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How American of me to think that it was all about me.  Everything is apparently out of sych.  Words lose their meaning just as nature loses its instinct.

Onepotmeal knows.

Myself.  I just paid a parking ticket I don’t remember receiving.  Apparently in Oregon, lapse of memory comes with a mandatory fine of ten additional bucks.

They’ll probably hit me up again next week, after my brain has a chance to cool down and re-forget.

In the future, bloggers will be assigned an area of expertise.  More importantly, all bloggers will be assigned levels of consciousness, which will function somewhat like a governmental hierarchy, somewhat like a cluster of interrelated souls.

For instance:

I may find myself assigned as an expert on, say, wet sidewalks.  I would then be expected to write prolifically about all aspects of wet sidewalks, which would, of course, relieve all other bloggers of having to do so.

Secondly, I would be assigned a position in the hierarchy.  Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I have been assigned a position as a subconscious commenter on, say, Jo Spanglemonkey’s blog. 

What this would mean is that all of my writing would take place at the sub-level of Spanglemonkey, and would, no, I take that back . . must be worded in such a way as to not only reflect on Spanglemonkey’s assigned area of expertise, but also be worded in such a way as to reflect my own area of expertise, which in this example happens to be wet sidewalks.

Can you feel the efficiency in my vision?  Does it leave you suddenly feeling like you were born in the wrong century?

I’ve experimented briefly with my vision, and it holds some promise.

Pulled from a recent Spanglemonkey, and supplemented with my own, experimental responses.

Spanglemonkey:

Keep in mind that he worked for NIXON. For NIXON. Nixon! Do I have to repeat that? Nixon, the cynical bastard who resigned from office. RESIGNED. The man who disgraced the office of the presidency, whose cronies were evil evil evil. This man, who actually seemed rather a decent sort, worked for Nixon, and he is far more disgusted with the current administration.

Expert Response:

Nixon’s cronies may have been evil, but what could be more evil then a wet sidewalk, I ask?  Have you ever tried to get wet leaves up from a wet sidewalk?  Now that will drive a man to resign faster then any disgrace in public office.

Spanglemonkey:

Today! Is the day I make a Master List. I will get my shit together and it will be magnificent.

Expert Response:

As magnificent as a wet sidewalk!

I, for one, am looking forward to the future.  If only half of what I see becomes true, I will be a lucky man.

Please note:

Those interested in having their own blog subjected to our harsh, futuristic testing procedures, should leave a comment here.  Interested parties should note that experiments have shown that not all blogs hold up well to the streamlined rigors of blogging that we envision in the future.  Results will vary.  Settling will occur.  After all, not everything can be compared to a wet sidewalk.

In my spare time I will try playing around with the newest version of Expression Engine, which now boasts an image gallery module.  Hopefully the learning curve is gentle (which looks to be true at first glance) and I can start posting more pictures.  On the side, so to speak, for those who like that sort of thing.

The main difference between mathematics and writing fiction is that there is no such thing as negative words.  You can delete all day long, just pounding away on that key like its the only one on the keyboard, but you’ll never get less then zero words, no matter how hard you try.

Mathematicians know this, and as a result, seldom write fiction.  I can’t prove this mathematically.  Not with words, anyway.

Other then that, I can never get enough Toothpaste For Dinner.

I suspect the artist is a mathematician himself.  Someone who tried too hard, and slipped into the other side.