MY HEAD "ROCKS" WITH QUESTIONS

It is not true that rocks don't talk.  The rocks in my head have a lot to say, but mostly they ask questions:

"Do beavers ever get damned tired?"

"Was Oedipus Rex the first person to engage in sexual intercourse with his mother?"

  

"Is there a word for a person who engages in sexual intercourse with mothers?"

"How would cops cope if there were copious crooked cops?"

"What do cannibals pack for lunch?  Ladyfingers?  Esophagus sandwiches?  Bellybutton pudding?

"Would we feel less lonely if more people had rocks in their heads?"

"Can we stop asking questions now?"

IT IS 4:00 A.M. AND I MUST WRITE SOMETHING !

I will not allow my imaginary friends to set unrealistic expectations.

I have never had an epiphany, but I have faked a few.

I am skilled at being unskilled.  Should I run for office?

On books?   I enjoy any book containing words.  Currently  I am reading  A History of History  by Itis Bygone.  I'm still afraid to read books about phobias.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water.

Jack came down with The Ten Commandments

Moses was pissed

And Jill became a hermit.

(Eventually she got her own Reality TV show.) 

Some beavers are apathetic, and some give a damn.

I do not belong here.  My soul was on its way to another planet when Cosmic Post screwed up, and delivered it to Earth.   The planet my soul was supposed to go to is a planet where sensitive and honest people are not ridiculed for being sensitive and honest.  It is a planet where corporations rely on the Arts for financial support.  I cannot tell you more because of  a confidentiality agreement which was part of the settlement with Cosmic Post. 

It is 4:00 a.m. and I must write something!