Great Divide

Which came first, the Chicken or the Egg Man; and were they “J-walking?” Surely the Beatles crossed an ocean as well as an Abby Road, probably in search of that quizzical chicken who was probably in search of a legal weed shop on the other side.

The best answer I’ve come up with as to the question of WHY anything might want to cross an etherial ROAD as it were, is this:

All of creation has a basic natural instinct to avoid pain and draw closer to that which provides pleasure, comfort, peace. Repulsion to pain isn’t something one needs to be taught. 

When’s the last time a cat on a hot tin roof sat there and thought about his next move for more than a millisecond? How many recordings of nails scratching on a chalkboard do you have loaded onto your mobile device? Excuse me, but since when has fiberglass boxer briefs been the top choice of wrestlers, rustlers or long-haul truckers? Never. None. Not once.

No one is jumping out of windows or stabbing out their eyes because of marijuana–except maybe those who are still intolerant of people they disagree with enjoying their personal freedom. But plenty of folk are making moves, crossing lines, forming alliances, over nearly everything to do with anything. Talk about a continental divide.

I’m sure you all can guess where I stand … or ah, recline I should say.


Hey, as a postscript note here, I’d love to hear from all of you interested in having a T-Shirt of the above art. If I get enough interest, I’ll put an order together. Please hit the LIKE button below and or let me know in a comment and I’ll come up with some options for ordering. 


Some very final thoughts:

I’ve taken a bit of a break from writing here lately. Too much serious shit going on in the world for me to be motivated to post the personal ramblings I tend to offer up here. Just seemed pointless. I’m not motivated by politics. I have my convictions, but I don’t believe in blathering or trying to convert anyone to anything. There’s enough of that going on these days. 

Anyway, I’d love to hear from YOU though. If you read this (all three to five of you!) please like, share, and or print out and paste this page to your fridge, then take a selfie with it and your favorite condiment in hand, and email me so I know without a doubt who’s still subscribed, and how you like your sandwich …

Otherwise, I’m going to buy a record player, roll a legally sanctioned joint, and spend more time behind the typewriter with white paper and a bottle of correction fluid in hand … and life without erasers will be replaced with, well, “life without the internet,” as I can still get three or four letters out a month to you via snail mail if that’s all I have reading me.