EVERYbody’s on drugs.
One guy used to tell himself a lot of stuff that would turn out to be incorrect – but on PURPOSE – he says. “Yeah,” he replied, “On purpose my ASS!”
“Dear sainted Pa Pa,” said the kid, “May I ask thee this one question for today: Why doth men continue to rhapsodize about how all new birth comes through the pain of others, when my own intellectual creations give nothing but joy?” And the ole man was so radiantly enraptured that he STILL has yet to reply.
And as the seas continued to churn and thrive, the atoms, cells and molecules clung dearly to one another and thus were the humans also able and liable to do so.
Sometimes, while in a playful mood, this one reality would shout out to its brood, “Hey, can you still see me through the fog?”
The paper-leader of one universe
declared: “Hey folks! – let’s face it –
It’s ALL just a hobby to somebody.”