This Spiritualist, This Statistician, What Are You

There Is No Real Direction Here, Neither Lines Of Power Nor Cooperation. Decisions Are Never Really Made – At Best They Manage To Emerge, From A Chaos Of Peeves, Whims, Hallucinations And All Around Assholery.

Some Of Us Are Afraid Of Dying; Others Of Human Loneliness. Profane Was Afraid Of Land Or Seascapes Like This, Where Nothing Else Lived But Himself.

I Mean What They And Their Hired Psychiatrists Call Delusional Systems. Needless To Say, ‘delusions’ Are Always Officially Defined. We Do Not Have To Worry About Questions Of Real Or Unreal. They Only Talk Out Of Expediency. It’s The System That Matters. How The Data Arrange Themselves Inside It. Some Are Consistent, Others Fall Apart.

You May Never Get To Touch The Master, But You Can Tickle His Creatures.

Danger's Over, Banana Breakfast Is Saved.