Being For The Benefit of Mr. Cous.

Hello, friend. I don't suppose that you've been pining away for another post on this thing, but since you can't have too much of a good thing, you can probably put up with a pretty hefty amount of a bad thing, too. Am I wrong? I thought I'd take this time to fade out, having nothing really to talk about, but as the post has only just begun and my last post was a long review that you won't want to read, I'd better throw in some filler that you'll read and wish that you hadn't. Yes. On with the filler! I've been following the headlines about the Pope's supposedly "inflamatory" comments, but have been too disgusted to actually read what's going on. I suppose that you might call it irresponsible to not actually follow the details, since you never know when I might have to defend His Holiness or my faith in general against someone who reads the New York Times like most Christians don't read the Bible, but I really don't see this as even being that relevant. The media's jumping on the Pope for saying something politically incorrect. No kidding. Is the Pope Catholic? I'd be more worried if the media actually liked the guy. Honestly, the only thing he could have said that would have pleased the media and political establishment in general is if he said "Um, everyone just do whatever you want and don't worry about the consequences. Jesus was a reallly nice guy and he wouldn't want anyone to make some sort of moral assesment of any actions or ideas or their implications. Also, Islam is peace. While nothing is actually wrong per se, it's very not nice to imply that your religion might be closer to truth than anyone else's." Anyways, as you can see, I'm in no mental state to engage in any kind of intelligent thought right now, and I'm ranting. Come to think of it, I'm not sure what my mental state would have to be in order to make an intelligent post. I've yet to attain it, whatever it is. Sooner or later you have to realize that it's not really going to make a whole lot of difference whether you're hearing that sound from outside your head or if its just some ringing in your ear from too much shouting in the art galleries where Dr. Mournful's finest work is never on display, but where you can find his finer mediocrities without much trouble to the police or anyone else in this town know where I can find a telephone that takes American change? Times change. You can argue that Time is a human construct, but I don't think that it is. Clocks are a human construct, but I'm pretty sure that Time would exist without them, and without calendars on the wall telling you what to do all the time you might actually break down and do what you've wanted to do all along but never had the time because of the worrysome sound of water coming from the ceiling in the room that you'd just repainted-and suddenly we're back to paint and it's time (back to time as well, although we technically can't leave it behind anywhere either way) to wrap this up and wish you a fine evening before it becomes morning and you have to get up and do your chicken dance all day until you can't lay any more eggs and farmer John will come around with his axe a-swingin' and whiskey on his breath. Maybe tommorow won't be the day, though, so maybe we'll have time to have a pint and talk it all over on some evening when we're both free. We'll see.