iWonder if all of us have now evolved into some new species of homo erectus: One with no time to smell the rose-scented Glade plugins. Because we still don’t even know what human consciousness is. Do our brains equal “us,” for instance? Because if your brain controls everything, this obviously means your body is only a shell, and you’re a ghost trapped inside a small space at the top. Consider that you could lose your arms and legs and still be 100% “you.” Liposuction has no effect on you, either, except to make your shell more attractive to other hormonally-driven brains. But if you cut out your brain. . . well, that’s it. You’re cooked. So the lesson here may be that people are really only three pound clumps of jelly, which you could probably hold in your hand for at least a few seconds before freaking out. How “cool” is that? And all this time you’ve been worried, too, about what some other clump of jelly thinks about your own clump of jelly. All over the country these three pound “jellies” recognize the shell holding your clump, and your clump wonders how these jellies are “doing” or “feeling,” and if they’re coming to visit you for what is termed a “holiday,” and if the alignment of electrical impulses inside your jelly mold can ever “forgive” or “love” or “whatever” them again. Or even if you should. Meanwhile there might just be huge 600 lb. jellies moving this direction at near light speed to make slaves of all the smaller jellies on this tiny world we’ve dubbed “Earth.” Am iRight?
Such thoughts plague my jelly mold whenever it can’t get into REM sleep due to repeated visits to Starbucks. One day I too may find peace at last from these troublesome ruminations, I’m sure. Until then, unless some alien takes me, I fear I’ll end up wearing a tee-shirt reading iTHOUGHT, THEREFORE iWAS as I wander around Wal Mart parking lots, complaining that the 25 cent diet sodas now cost six bucks. And no doubt no one will listen to me then, either.