If You Like What You Read

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Fun Fun Fun

Hell n. 1. Any unacceptable situation occurring in time ranging from minutes, hours, days weeks, months, years and/or lifetimes. (A trip to the New Jersey DMV is no picnic either.)

What if heaven is really not that much different than where we are right now? Same things, but only everything is in it's proper place, properly understood, and properly used? Of course, there'd be no death or disease, and you'd get to live forever. If you wanted to. If not, you could still do all the same stuff we continue to do right now, the way we understand and do things... it just wouldn't be as much fun. The choice of how we experience things would still always be there. Sort of. I mean, there are some things you just can't choose. Like being born. Well, maybe you can, and we're just not aware of how we choose to do it? I don't know. A better example might be existing. You can't choose to exist. Or to not exist. You just do. Am I getting closer? No? Okay, well never mind. It's not important.

Fun. Now there's a word I seem to have lost familiarity with lately. And I'm a guy that likes to have fun. Of course, we all know where fun can lead if you don't pay attention, but that's another story. In itself though, fun is fun. It's good. It's fun! It's not a bad thing, like some people might have you believe. Those types of people are usually not very much fun though and I usually avoid them. (Funny how that works.) Anyway... fun, yeah...

Fun n. 1. The ability to see past other's erroneous perceptions and false ideas about who we are or might be and still do whatever you want without guilt, fear and/or shame, all the while watching with a detached curiosity at their utter dismay as to why they're not happy and why their own life didn't work out exactly the way they thought it would.

Actually, that's really not that much fun when you think about. I'd much rather be on a warm beach somewhere, cool breeze, watching waves break, salt in the air, surfers wiping out, and girls bouncin' around in bikinis, and airplanes pulling signs for stupid places I'll never go, and mysterious men in black trench coats wearing dark sunglasses slinking around in the b.g. everywhere, spying on us all...

[What was that?!... Hold on!... Okay, I have to stop writing now! My time is running out! They're almost here! I can feel them approaching! And when they do, they will not like me communicating such ideas herein to the unwashed masses, not to mention me helping McMullen escape jail! I will be up shit's crick without a paddle! Or even a boat! So I have to sign-out now. Immediately! I think someone’s at the front door! Hopefully you will hear from me again soon! If not, keep both your eyes and ears open, but more importantly, your heart. That's what they want. Since they don't have one themselves. And don't take any wooden nickels. At least not government-issued ones.]

Okay, sorry... false alarm. It was just the mailman dropping off some beef jerky I ordered from Hawaii.