Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

Month: June, 2017

Murderous Leisure

Murder is the principal​​ intention of men.
A man’s geometry insists that taking life from others, on the small stage or large, is the shortest distance to greater comfort and ease.
Men have prowled history irresistibly drawn towards leisure.
It has never been our inclination to replenish the species.
Women do that because they have to. We relax because we must.

Why what we believe is stupid

The weak mind falls inevitably into misinterpreting emotion for facts.
All our major religions built themselves around common passionate sensations and then over time organized cocoons, like churches, synagogues, mosques, etc. that regurgitated this emotion as spirituality.
Practitioners tended to meet early in the morning, on a Saturday or Sunday mostly, when still not quite awake.
Flash chemical passions account for nearly all loyalties. Place a baby in front of women, and it will swoon for their breasts like they have swallowed a barrel full mescaline cactus.
Likewise, men at sporting events demonstrate allegiances on the minor triggers of colored jerseys. There would not be Christianity if Jesus died during the playoffs.
The frailest minds gravitate towards fidelities that can be horrifyingly simplistic and even moronic. These people will, without any discernible catalyst, announce what their political party is or who they were in an earlier life. These characters are essentially harmless except when granted some play in decision-making activities like Presidential elections.

Poem: If You Can’t Watch

Every death,
comes with its particular novelty.
While birth plods into life
with a sloppy inaccuracy,
tumbling incoherently through
the thick, sticky afterbirth,
always shackled to incomprehension.
Still we guess birth to be miraculous
while it’s endgame, death
is reviewed as a misfortune,
accompanied by a chorus of “if only’s.”
and the tardy howls of loss.
But of what good is the marvelous,
if you can’t, watch?

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