CD Wilson's life lessons and junk

Man, I hit writers block like a kitten shot at high velocity into a brick wall yesterday.

Visualize it, a flying blur of  furry grey cuteness soaring faster than the speed of sound and then a giant smack  into a giant wall and all you can think of when the meow catches up with the cloud of fur is Who put that brick wall there?

Am I demented?

Most Probably.

If a kid launched in a flying saucer that soars forty miles per hour 10,000 feet in the air isn’t really there at all but the Day Time news launch fourteen hours of video and than the kid goes on two forty two minute talk shows the next day and throws up approximately a pint of yesterdays green bean casserole weighing about a pound, figure for y if x is the percentage of Americans who believe the world is going to end in 2012.

Y is a tiny number. It is the average IQ in the country.

So, it is trigometrically geometric to the parallel algebraic expression of anger and genuine confusion that we, being the accepted ever changing control group for our own sick experiment, aka society, pretend that we don’t feel.

Am I making sense?

I sure hope not.

Anyway, I am pretty much spurting out anything, Rambling Nonsense (ding ding reference to the title) if you will but other than that it has been a good day. And nobody reads this blog so I have pretty much given up on the validity of clarifying the turbid misconceptions that you simpletons cling to in your circadian pathetic-ness where you wake up just to watch live footage of a balloon (that holds no little boy by the way) just to voice grievances to your apathetic friends about your job that you loathe and than you go to sleep after auto-erotic escapades  into the lead basement you assembled so your ancestors and aliens  can’t see you in your most ecstatically nasty state.

And then you get angry the next day when there was no little boy in the balloon but you tune into the talk shows anyway given that they are not at the same time as American Idol so you can see those two blonde twins act sexy while singing worse than a walrus with a cold.

Hey, if nothing makes sense. Just go with it. You might find that the universe is just a much more enjoyable place that way. Anyway, I am through rambling nonsense (ding ding)

This is Basic Interpretation, signing out.