What's in My Heart
What's in my heart
So great a place
That I could never know?
What's in my heart
So much away
That I will never show?
What's in my heart
A raging flame
That I will never control?
What's in my heart
And who am I
So much my heart will hold.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
http://thinkingthelions.blogspot.com/
I'm starting off today's (maybe this weeks) post with a link to my friend the Trouble With Roy in the hopes that after reading todays post he can provide me with an answer to The Question.
When I started this blog it was very hard to come up with a good name, I finally settled on "Life, The Universe, and Everything" which is, of course, a vague nod in the direction of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, and to my Sci Fi background, which largely consists of Star Wars (and now Battlestar Galactica) and other obscure things like (Wing Commander).
However, this line is very relevent to The Question, because the question is part of Life, The Universe, and Everything.
So without further ado, here is The Question:
Why do babies clothes have pockets?
Let me know if you figure it out. I sure can't.
Onto more important things...I really want to have six kids. People say I'm crazy and I don't know what I'm getting into but I don't care. At the end of my life when I'm laying in a casket and everyone is saying fake nice things about how wonderful I was and pretending to cry but really just wondering what kind of food is back at Aunt Maggies house and will they get there in time to get a good parking space and a good spot in line I want to know that I really truly left something behind. And one child just isn't enough.
I mean, one child is one cancer case from the extermination of my family line. Or one salmanella poisioning away from the wiping out of my entire genetic code.
I don't want that!
Six kids is like six times redundancy in the event that something goes wrong (hopefully they will all be boys, too - God forced me into a house with three women so I figure having six boys bounces that out, right? Because that's how God works?).
There's a major obstacle in my way to this plan though, namely my Wife. If I could order Babies on Amazon I'd have six kids right now (and probably not enough time to read this sentence, let alone write this post) but that's just not possible. Biologically I need another person to help me along in this venture.
So we're going to have to be extra nice to the wife from here on out so she'll keep producing babies.
This is sort of like my dad's 65 Mustang. When he dies, I'm sure he's going to leave it to my older younger sister (I have two younger sisters now, so this sentence is technically correct as he will leave it to the older of the two). My younger sister will - undoubtedly - promise at some point in the future (an undetermined point to be sure) to give me the car, if I am nice enough. It's easy to see what follows - even though I know she would never give me anything if her life depended on it (If my life did it goes without saying she would not) I will cling to the desperate hope that maybe one day she will give me the car, and she will suck the life out of my body with that fake pretendeness.
Fortunately, I don't mind being extra good to my wife.
I'm starting off today's (maybe this weeks) post with a link to my friend the Trouble With Roy in the hopes that after reading todays post he can provide me with an answer to The Question.
When I started this blog it was very hard to come up with a good name, I finally settled on "Life, The Universe, and Everything" which is, of course, a vague nod in the direction of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, and to my Sci Fi background, which largely consists of Star Wars (and now Battlestar Galactica) and other obscure things like (Wing Commander).
However, this line is very relevent to The Question, because the question is part of Life, The Universe, and Everything.
So without further ado, here is The Question:
Why do babies clothes have pockets?
Let me know if you figure it out. I sure can't.
Onto more important things...I really want to have six kids. People say I'm crazy and I don't know what I'm getting into but I don't care. At the end of my life when I'm laying in a casket and everyone is saying fake nice things about how wonderful I was and pretending to cry but really just wondering what kind of food is back at Aunt Maggies house and will they get there in time to get a good parking space and a good spot in line I want to know that I really truly left something behind. And one child just isn't enough.
I mean, one child is one cancer case from the extermination of my family line. Or one salmanella poisioning away from the wiping out of my entire genetic code.
I don't want that!
Six kids is like six times redundancy in the event that something goes wrong (hopefully they will all be boys, too - God forced me into a house with three women so I figure having six boys bounces that out, right? Because that's how God works?).
There's a major obstacle in my way to this plan though, namely my Wife. If I could order Babies on Amazon I'd have six kids right now (and probably not enough time to read this sentence, let alone write this post) but that's just not possible. Biologically I need another person to help me along in this venture.
So we're going to have to be extra nice to the wife from here on out so she'll keep producing babies.
This is sort of like my dad's 65 Mustang. When he dies, I'm sure he's going to leave it to my older younger sister (I have two younger sisters now, so this sentence is technically correct as he will leave it to the older of the two). My younger sister will - undoubtedly - promise at some point in the future (an undetermined point to be sure) to give me the car, if I am nice enough. It's easy to see what follows - even though I know she would never give me anything if her life depended on it (If my life did it goes without saying she would not) I will cling to the desperate hope that maybe one day she will give me the car, and she will suck the life out of my body with that fake pretendeness.
Fortunately, I don't mind being extra good to my wife.
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