The Zen Guy, Ch. 16

We're on a road to no where.

We thought we were the center of the universe, but Copernicus showed us wrong.  Nothing revolves around us.  We live on an insignificant planet going around an insignificant sun in a pedestrian galaxy.

We thought we were special and controlled our own destiny, but Darwin demonstrated that it just wasn't the case.   We come from primates not from the hand of any God.  We came to be what we are because somewhere way back when some mutation of us was a better killing machine.

We even thought we were the master of our own thoughts, but even that was taken away from us by Freud.  What we think is all a veneer, a rationalization of more primitive, and perhaps darker impulses.

And finally, the crowning blow:  even if we win, if we win, HAH! Even if we win! Even if we play so far above our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days; even if God in Heaven above comes down and points his hand at our side of the field; even if every man woman and child held hands together and prayed for us to win, it just wouldn't matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk because they've got all the money! It just doesn't matter if we win or we lose. IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER!
Rest of group: IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER! IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER...

In the end, we really don't miss Sarabi anymore.  Perhaps that was uncalled four, but I really am no cunning linguist. We all are on a gigantic wheel of fish.   And no, I didn't come for the gang bang.

The Apolitical Activist, Ch. 9

Patriotism may the the last refuge of the scoundrel.

Conservatism may be the first refuge of change.

But before I get there, let me wave the American flag around a bit.

It goes like this:  I think that the American "melting pot" experiment to be one of the most significant social experiments of all time.   Where else in the history of the world, on such a grand scale, have you thrown together so may disparate cultures and religions together.   And it turned out without much strife.  (Lets just ignore the Civil War).   These days Jews marry Christians.   Irish remember their origins only on St. Patrick's day.  You get the idea.

That's why it feels me with sadness when I hear stories about how 9/11 caused a retrenchment of cultural identity.  Of how there was such a stink about opening a Muslim center near the site of the former twin towers and how "Christians" protested it.   Of how writers like the Canadian Shereen El Feki, can say that before 9/11 she never really identified herself as a Muslim, where after 9/11 she started researching her heritage and wearing a hajaba.  Rather than looking to the past for answers, why not change the present?  Do you seriously believe for a second that looking backward gives better answers for how to live a life?

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, hopefully this is nothing more than a speed bump along the way.  With the internet, maybe the entire world will be the melting pot:-)

Boston Marathon

The Artist, Ch. 11 (coda)

A stone giving up rolling just gathers.

For her it was weight and a bad complexion.

She settled down with the woman who had been married with kids

which the former husband had custody.

Supposedly the women had been cheating on her with men.

She said that didn't matter.

I'm not sure she paints anymore, either.

In fact, I'm not sure what she does anymore.

There is something sad and tragic about inertia

and it was not her, but her sister, who eventually journeyed out to the west coast.

The Dancer, Ch. 7 (coda)

The Dancer left town and went to Arizona.

It wasn't so much that she was tired of dying my hair

I think it had more to do with the fact that her husband

the nice guy at the bar all those years ago

beat the shit out of her

and protective orders neither protect nor order.

Things were not what they seem

especially to the unobservant.

This is not a recent development.

It manifested one night, at a different winery.

Not the one she lost her job from smoking dope on the job.

Allegedly.

It was a different one.

It was about the partners the nice guy at the bar

foisted on her

and it was not just the librarian.

I lost track after that.

Probably for the good.

 

In My Kingdom, Ch. 2

In my Kingdom, under no condition shall Gonzaga ever receive a number one seed

and Kentucky and Iowa shall always take the place of Boise State when the game is basketball.

Further, let it be known from this day forward that the name of the podcast and TV show is "Comedy Bang Bang"

Those who insist on calling it Bang Bang Comedy shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

Henceforth, Sara shall always smile for Daryl, and Daryl shall always go for that, and do anything that Sara shall want him to do.  Because she is a rich girl, after all.

And as a side note, all turbos shall be completed within one week of dictation.   And while we are talking about work, all Chicago lawfirms shall send only one person to cover a deposition.   In the event that two attorneys attend a single deposition, they shall prohibited from speaking unless they come with a case of wine.   If three Chicago attorneys attend a deposition, all shall be flogged.   And if if any of three attorneys are women, then the deponent, if he is a physician originally from Syria, shall be permitted to respond to questions calling the attorney "lady" or "honey."  

Henceforth, there shall be no more talking about work.   Whenever work is mentioned, it shall be replaced with the subject of bonobos.

In my kingdom, by official decree, Charles Darwin was incorrect.  Humans did not evolve from chimpanzees or gorillas.   Humans derived from bonobos.

This goes without saying:   the trivia team known as "We miss Sarabi" shall win each and every contest of trivia.  And throughout the land, all denizens of said land shall officially miss Sarabi.

Henceforth, all hefeweizen beer shall be brewed with blood oranges.   With this caveat:   if any microbreweries near Cantrall, Illinois, shall arise from the offspring of a neurologist who prescribes excessive amounts of testing for his "delightful" patients, then said brewery shall be shut down unless said neurologist retires and bequeaths the fruits of his fraud to charity.

(the preceding paragraph shall be replaced with the word "bonobos")

By the way, this is the official wine of bonobos everywhere  (its even from Eric Solomon):