What is really God?

A few days ago, I was driving the passenger seat of Ian's 2004 Volkswagen Jetta w/ custom Audi rims, ice cream stained rear perch and manual transmission drive upgrade package. I was feeling pretty at ease with things/globally satisfied since we were passing Whole F()()ds and Mad Hatter's sustainable produce cafe simultaneously. A rare cardinal had just performed a delicate little dance in seemingly slow motion mere meters from our windshield and a 40 year old dad was patiently sitting with his daughter on the side of the road, teaching her about the economy she would one day inherit while playing The Shins on his iHome iPod/iPhone compatible external amplifying device. Since it was such a great moment I was already moving my head in sweeping arching movements much slower than usual so that if anything real happened I would be able to capture it more fully and also to appear to observers as taken and knowledgeable about the situation as I desired to be. As my eyes were taking in the waning horizon on the dashboard at about 0.2 radians/second I felt a environment grimace start to sneak onto my facehead, tried to fight it because I couldn't identify the source. Some kind of fully quantized field was pullin on my chin, makin my mouth confused looking. I was stuck between my wanting to see it and preserving the RealKnowledge chic at every one of the costs. Hours later I would look through the glass to see a pick up truck. I wish I had a picture of the pickup truck to give you but I don't. Trust me very much, imagine that someone wanted to buy this pickup truck

From Mediocre sex

but they didn't have the future advantage, they were in the market for such a truck about 25 or 27 years ago, this is what kind of truck they had. Sometimes people attach accessories for the suburban terrain environment like this fully_grown installing nylonish straps to the bottom of the doors in order to attach a boombox playing the Indigo Girls classic album "Swamp Ophelia" through HOPE08 stickahs stuck to the speakers.

From Mediocre sex

From Mediocre sex

This southern futurist didn't use that add-on obviously, he was more of a normal_dude just excited to be on the road again and driving for himself in this winding road of life. Remembering the sadness, I write about the cause. The first elevator I took in my first time in Las Vegas I was with my dad and two perfectly midwestern English speaking guys with two horribly speaking euro girls from unidentical countries in the eastern bloc. That was awesome and reaffirmed my faith in my ability to approximately predict events. On the door to the flatbad on the pickup truck I saw this sadmaker ominously lookin me in the eyes, like a Citgo sign over the outfield wall at Fenway Park broadcast on Fox Sports Wednesdary morning baseball, postseason edition.

From Mediocre sex

Why is the grace of God limited to only one aspect of the coincidental portion of this dude's lifestyle? God had the awesome power to guide him into the army of the tarheels and also have grace but couldn't do a simple thing like deliver him in one of the two Carolinas? What about fruit chillerz?, i guess those are just random miracles as well. I know not everyone's brain is as simple as mine, but sometimes I just feel bad for people that don't understand the bigger things. If anything happened, God put your zygote bundle in a womb in NorCar within the Raleigh-Durham sub area, that is easy enough. But you, your powerful wizard, are the sole motivator in aligning your allegiances with the tarheel armies. Maybe it's time for you to empower your own self and realize what it really is like.

From Mediocre sex

In the past, Copernicus tried to show to people that God wasn't the main dude in the universe, Mr. Circle was, in later years, Kepler with stolen data found out they were a little bit like a strange circle (which would eventually become known as a ellipse, the chosen shape of cut throat roller derby rinks) but he didn't disagree enough with Copernicus to break ties in light of such a sacred and timeless harmony. They both were trying to show everyone where God was truly operating upon and where he was hiding. In fact, if you look closely at a Copernican diagram, no matter who the artist was, then get a pair of CVS Safe-T Scissors for Kidz and cut a "JO" shape between the orbits of Jupiter and Venus. Depending on the point in the orbits it is a common mistake to mistake Venus for Neptune and/or the now defunct Pluto, as always, stay vigilant in this portion of the exercise and make sure you are snipping along the correct trajectories. When you lift up the page, you will find a page in between the two sides of the original paper (you though it was only one paper huh!) a beautiful picture of Jesus riding a giant tongue.

From Mediocre sex

You are confused, you have thought, you are right, that is exactly what they and what I will now imply is the actual situation, I will just say it a kind of a declaration, since it is fact in this case. God is Taste.

Haven't you ever thought of the famous questions there are like:

1. What came before the big bang, like I know matter cannot be created or destroyed, but where did the first matter get made?/do they give tours to us?

2. Can anyone figure out where Richard Feynman gets random ass mathematical connexions that then get called "this is obvious" by Feynman in his books? can i get directions to it on Google maps/ TomTom/ Garmin???

3. Peach Dream or Polar raspberry, which is the best fruit chiller? are the both the same bestness?

From Mediocre sex

one of these might have had an answer but now he's dead people, we can't ask feynman anymore where they came from, we wasted the time he was alive and now we have to accept and suffer the consequences. we will have to stumble through pages of advanced calculus only to realize how st()pid i still am. the other two important questions are a matter of opinion which is a matter of taste. isn't it funny how all of our questions keep leading back to the theme/answer of taste? consider this hypothetical stiaution:

Animal Collective writes 13 new songs for Merriweather Post Pavillion, 11 songs are selected for Merriweather Post Pavillion, on the official track listing/song name database, only 3 songs retain their original name from the setlist at live performance show environments/beta testing sessions yielding a 23.0769231% chance of retaining the original song as a MPP era Animal Collective Song. would you be able to guess what songs? No, but I will tell you. No More Runnin', Lion in a Coma. You should be able to guess the last one if you are upto date with things that matter/ things that will be considered important by people serious about the future of the global economy. Yes, the last song is named Taste as most of you have suggested. If Avey tares, panda bare and geoguy decide it is in the (100-23.077...) percentile of words they thought of a year ago to put in song names, who are we to refute its role as Lord? The truth is, we are no one. At least no one to do something that important.

Taste must be a God, we have established that. Now you may wonder, what about other Gods, could there be more, would Taste be friends with them? Or would he be guilty by association. The answer is they would. We can split this into two cases. Suppose'n Taste saw the other Gods and enjoyed their presence, then they would be elements of his preference WOULD THEY NOT? and then therefore, an element of his Taste. Likewise, if he disliked them, they WOULD ALSO BE a component of his preference is Taste. Lastwise, suppose he could not see the other Gods because they were hiding. Either they are hiding far away in which case they ARE COWARDS AND ARE PRECLUDED FROM BEING A God or they are hiding behind a rock in which case Taste likes or dislikes the rock and then dislikes or likes the people behind it for performing an offensive maneuver to an object he likes or dislikes. Taste doesn't have to be taste, it could just be someone's particular Taste. Clearly, we are getting to the point, Taste is in every one of us's heart and minds and closets. Everyone has a Taste and everyone by induction has a God. Respect each other's Tastegods for the better or for the worse, its the only way we're gonna make it out of this alive.

Live love more,

peggy guggenheim may not have been the savoriest girl in the world, but through a manipulative/ clever application of her inherited wealth, she still bagged some of the premier artists of her time. knotches on the bedposts, live out your Tastes!

Vigilance Reminder

From Mediocre sex