🚀 go-pugleaf

eventually your icons get so thick that you easily slip into the realist
illusion, even the modern boast (unfounded) of gifted sight over all
cultures not blessed with a magician as clever as Durkheim.  You start
feeling the formula inside your very being, feel the wave the world
stands on, hence the grandiosity of mental disease in the Western World;
men think they're gawdam napolean, women think they're elizabeth taylor,
children are all ultraman or a faery princesses.  Wait, not the children on
your block?  Good, listen up, the future's in your hands.  Eventually
the line is so clean that you cease to see any quantumn packages except
in physics textbooks, safely exiled to the realm of rilly small, and cruise
everynight thinking, 'wow, hey, how could anyone not live in chicago? (la?
frisco? vienna?)  Everyone should have cucumbers and msg on their hotdogs.
Everyone should have hotdogs; yeh, then there'd be no world hunger.  Shit
ain't it great to be white--everyone's a genius.  Ah what the hell's physics
anyway but a gawdamn very convincing religion?  Why should we revere science
as if anything meant anything to anyone anyway, huh?'  Right, them extremes
are part of the show. 'It's this or that, you shit.  Russia was wrong so now
it's Star Trek Cap. Mickey, over and out.  Why should we listen to these
glib routines anyway?  What makes you think America ever had anything to say?'
What makes you think you know your whiteass way around the zillion pimples
of our very massive and impressive geography?  You've never been to me.
See, that's the point, neither have I.  Makes life sort a' special, huh?
"Waterlillies in your bathtub silent invisible conversation...."