Angels On the Sideline

Right in Two icon-search-12x12 (track 04 from the 10,000 Days EP by Tool icon-external-link-12x12 icon-search-12x12 )

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Angels on the sideline puzzled and amused
Why did Father give these humans free will?
Now they’re all confused

Don’t these talking monkeys know that Eden has enough to go around?
Plenty in this holy garden
Silly monkeys, where there’s one you’re bound to divide it right in two

Angels on the sideline baffled and confused
Father blessed them all with reason and this is what they choose

Monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground
Silly monkeys give them thumbs they forge a blade
Where there’s one they’re bound to divide it right in two

Monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground
Silly monkeys give them thumbs they make a club and beat their brother down
How they survive so misguided is a mystery
Repugnant is a creature who would squander the ability to lift an eye to heaven conscious of his fleeting time here

Cut and divide it all right in two

Fight over the clouds, over earth, over sky
Fight over life, over blood, over heaven
Fight over love, over sun, over another
Fight for each other for the ones who are rising

Angels on the sideline again benched along with patience and reason
Angels on the sideline again wondering when this tug of war will end

Cut and divide it all right in two

Contemplative Consternative Quandary

A person has two imaginary friends.

He talks about one to the other all the time, and vice versa.

After many months of this, both imaginary friends decide that they should be introduced.

The person keeps putting off this introduction, however, because he is afraid that one is going to find out the other is not real (and vice versa).

Merry Aloofness

I spent about an hour searching the Internet for a Christmas-related graphic or card that might serve as a fair approximation for how I feel about this time of year. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really find anything that did the job. I did, however, stumble across this little gem:

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No More School

I read an intriguing scribble of graffiti today on the side of a ballast as I was leaving the UC Berkeley campus for the last time. It read something like:

“It can be considered no manner of good health to be well adjusted to such a profoundly sick society.”

Somewhat dour, even for me, but I have to admit that it struck a chord.