Thursday, December 02, 2004

They Decide and the Shotgun Sings the Song...

One Silver Lining to those with Brass Balls, you might not believe in reincarnation...but I naturally believed it when it happened to me several times... if you make an effort to dust off the cobwebs and rust, you'll start to remember... With that said, I lived in cyclical generations where only one time did I experience a 'legitimate historical event' as a human. That was back in 2236 years ago. In the Roaring 1920's, my most recent foray as a human, my life was cut short, as I was a little nine year old girl who was hit by a Model T while smiling at a street clown. Several times, for whatever reason, I was a canine, treated well, and always loyal... Now I wish to die and be born again as a dog... but I think my dog days are over. You can only evolve so much as a dog. I mention this because I actually have an eerie yet serene notion that we are living in an epic 161.9 year period. I just haven't counted which wave we are in. But I feel we are approaching the latter extreme points, where Critical Mass and Maximum Damage are going to occur as we are in a 'quickening' as I write this. Gattling created the machine gun in the hopes that it would end all wars, making the tool so brutal measured in massive death tolls, that humans would finally cease their primal violent tendencies. The irony is self-explanatory. So the Silver Lining with those with Brass Balls is that there's a 95% chance you are currently living in and thus will experience a 'great time in history' whether it's ultimately bad or good. Posted by Hello


At 11:15 PM, Blogger Gary said...

Not that you care....but more people would link to you if you toned down the insanity and cursing just a notch and changed the blog title. I enjoy reading your musings though.

At 1:33 AM, Blogger ballsdeepinoprah said...

Don't listen to Gary even though I agree with don't listen to me, either.

Nevertheless...your ability to transport readers into a psuedo-psychosis is uncanny. Your ignominious exploits in a field in which you profess to be an expert are, unwittingly, entertaining and (I dare say) inspirational. I do, however, find it curious that such (incongruous) Communist rhetoric has crept its way onto Wall Street.

To describe your imaginative powers as prodigious would be a gross understatement; transcending time, place, and species must be exhausting. Something tells me that if Dear Mister Fantasy played you a tune, you'd refrain from being happy. What's the future like?

At 10:07 AM, Blogger Lockheed Hayheehoo Macedon said...

I will digest these comments as I treasure advice from all sources. As for now, I will burn up breakfast sausages on my foreman grill. It's quite cold out, but sunny. Will definitely go outside if I don't die.


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