As regards having-the-permanent-understanding, when one man was accused of being a mere poseur, he mused, “Hell, I’m not even at that level.”

Another day with its own name; a month of days, exclusively identified; a year of months, boasting its own private number.  What a universe we live in!  What a universe lives in us! All filled with words…and numbers…and words…and numbers…and words…and words, and words.

Can you just imagine how much we must be envied by black holes, brown dwarfs, novas,  and especially all the neurons who went to all the trouble to fabricate the “self” in you that seems to be reading these words, and who now is the only one who ever gets any credit for any of this. 

Hey, it’s Good-d-d-d-dto be King…even if the title is concocted.  But, anyway, here are fresh updates for consideration by your over-the-hill, pretender-to-the-throne, royal noggin:


Certain men feel they have been kidnapped, and are being held for ransom.  Two small problems: they do not know who has kidnapped them, and they are not clear on what is being demanded for their release.  Oh, one more thing: they are not even positive who it is that has been snatched, (but they still feel vaguely certain that some sort of crime has taken place, and that they are somehow involved).


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