Mike arrives back from a day off, opens his mail, and reads the following letter;Dear Wondrous Mikey
I am compelled to ask- do you write all this stuff? And I am having a hard time understanding some of the language you use. Is it English? Are you on medication for your ailment?
Yours Truly
Mom
Mike ponders and formulates his response;
Dear Mom,
Thanks for the pot roast. Most of the 'stuff' as you so eloquently state, found on this site, is written while I am in a trance or while sleeping. When I awake from one of these states I discover all this new 'stuff' on my computer and I don't have a clue how or why I wrote them. But I don't care, because I accept that I am a channel for some higher mysterious force that is using me to do its work. You might say that I have surrendered myself to this for I am a mere simple man otherwise. As for the inventive language, as you know the English language, or any language, is very limited in its ability to convey meaning, so for some unknown reason the force that channels through me invents new words or phrases to go beyond the wall.
Unfortunately, at present, there is no known cure for my ailment. It is a fatal disease, this love of glass, and someday I will pass from this world because of it. That is why I find such joy in living the remaining one hundred years of my life what I do…
In closing let me give you this comfort… I too am confused by what I write. It often amazes me that these thoughts have flowed through me. It takes time for me to absorb their full meaning. Some of them are absurd. I therefore apologize in advance for any confusion my words may cause.
On the other hand, I am just a humble servant to a higher force,
With Love
Mikey
1 comment:
Gentle reader, I must confess that I, Gary Brown (no e, I'm the one from the US, not my maple-syrup drenched brethren to the north), have seen Mikey in one of his creative fugues. It is a wonder to behold!
Hovering a few inches off the ground, Mikey wears a device that look more-or-less like a yarmulke with a few hundred wires coming off it. That leads directly into a Nefarious Machine that directly translates his random musings into, more or less, coherent typed text on a computer screen. And thence, into this file.
What is even more amazing is seeing him hook up the self-same machine to a Morton System-based contraption with a robo-arm and turn his pure (!) thoughts into cut glass. And all this while sipping on a cool glass of schnapps and smoking a fine Cuban cigar. Amazing.
GcB(no e on the end)
PS. So, when does the Gentle Reader get to see my picture?
PPS. Read http://obamausa.com TODAY.
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