The Mystery of Life

 
   "The Mystery of Life"
   
   600,000 people, approximately, disappear each year.  Feds called into the State of Alaska like none other.  Implants.  Abductions.  Get a certain blood transfusion; next, pseudo-physicians take your blood everyday.  People, music, television--all programming you to doubt.  Like we're being bred for death, if only to become food for the Earth.
   Are all these people crazy?  Some things I've mentioned are fact.  Depression, blah.  But Multiple Personality Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Schizophrenia and others seem wondrously weird, as if not natural.  What man doesn't want to engage in sloppy intercourse?  From his perspective, a harlot's genitalia resembles a beehive, and he will not insert his dingus.  Good for him.
   So, you know everything?  I don't save that the possibilities are limitless.  Look at Schwarzenegger:  "Hey, I'm not a cop--I'm a player."
   But we forget.  We don't remember.  And as my German grandmother's father said to her when she married a poor Serb:  "You've made your bed, now sleep in it."
   Her heart however, did her well.  It wasn't all roses, or was it?  The best part of having a spouse--there's always somebody to nag.  Every spouse yearns for their significant other to die before them, mostly.  How many dumb guys I've met that say their tramps love them, and that they would never hurt them.  Possibly.  Possibly not, way more.  So, learn how to love, even yourself.  Be who you are, and not the envy of your sister's larger breasts, for they can knock a guy out.  Cupcakes are yummy.
   Is this like a caveat of Christ?  He is the Author of Life, and Big Brother (Him) wants us to believe, even if the world calls us fools.  Jack Kerouac never met a beer he didn't like, never saw it coming, and is iconic, so alive.  My butt doctor won't receive such recognition.  But there's a place for the authors of confusion as well--they get to meet their Daddy, while those that reside in truth, get to meet their dynamic Dad.  God Almighty.