I'm gonna pay for my arrogance. I have in the past. No reason to think that won't continue ad infinitum. The next few paragraphs are something I wrote earlier today. I messed around with it and edited it from a million different angles. I seem momentarily convinced it's about the funniest stuff I got in me. It might help to understand I'm being sarcastic and that I wrote this to somebody I admire. Otherwise, it might not be so funny at all. No blame.
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Resolve. Yes. What the hell has that got to do with "terms" and "Yeshua"? I'm stating that my trumped up accusations about you carrying on like a Sunday School teacher seems to rattle your cage. I don't know why. You don't understand memory. Not one in ten thousand do. I don't have to know why you have no control over your reactive mind, even in a conventional sense, in order push your iconic Norman Rockwell-designed default buttons. God, you're soooo translucent. Have you no pride? You know a mystery... Mister Flattop... my ass! Tars! Feathers! Git outta town!
Now, I'm seriously joking. Perhaps if you were to study Scientology and get them to help you resolve your extreme, discombobulating REACTIONS to the discomforting memores of your pasty-faced, pimpled youth, you might become "clear" enow to resolve your own issues, and stop wasting the entire world's precious... and soon to be yore, and no more... ti-me.
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My world is getting a little crazy because of vitamin D. Not only am I taking four prescribed calcium tablets with 400mg of vitamin D in each one, occasionally I take one 2000 milligram tablet by my own leave for the sheer shock value of it. I read an article by a reputable doctor who suggested it. He's probably a little crazy about vitamin D too. Most Sun worshipers are.
I'm sitting here on the second floor inside my house where I put my computer desk when I moved my computer back upstairs after remodeling a bit. It's located in the southeastern corner of the upstairs rooms. There is a set of two outside decks on the eastern side of my house. One 10' X 10' preserved wood deck for the downstairs that leads to my front door, and another one on the second floor with a set of outside stairs (16 of them) that connects the two decks. The upstairs deck leads to another outside door that's located directly to the left of where I'm sitting. When I get up in the morning and open this door beside my computer rig, the rising sun shines directly on my mostly nakid, wrinkled old body and bathes it in light. Nature's way of getting even more vitamin D inside my skin.
I've mentioned that I subscribed to an AppleScript mailing list. It's fairly active. There's a steady stream of posts that don't get off-topic much at all. Apparently there is a cadre of old scripters who have been active on the list for a long time. There names seem to be familiar to the old Apple fanboi base, and they're kinda worshiped in a groupie sort of way for their technical prowess. There doesn't appear to be a stuck-up bone of contention amongst them.
That's about as different as it can possibly be on the other active e-mail discussion list I like to pretend at. It seems like just about everybody deliberately lies about stuff that shouldn't even be aired in decent people's company, and then initiates ad hominem attacks against all dissenters. Not me, though, exactly the opposite, I only feign attack, and then mock the indignant defenses my accusers find crumbling about them in tattered ruins. '-)
I'm not only nutty about vitamin D this morning, but I did something radical I might have ought to have done a long time ago, but that's not unusual at all for a double-Taurus-both-Sun-and-Moon. Taurus rules inertia. They can keep their stopping still beyond most people's call of duty. I.E., I changed the font style and the size in this text editor for the first time since I brought the computer back to my house.
I can be such a stubborn fool. I don't know how I've survived without getting shot with shit and then killed for stinking. For all practical purposes I haven't really survived anyway. The personalities I created to serve me in the various adventures I've enjoined, in the past, got out-and-out murdered by the very people they were designed to please. What a drag, man, "nobody loves you when you're down and out.", but there's a lesson.
A body gotta get skilled at dissembling and taking on the persona of a handicapped person or be a natural at portraying bums and down and out individuals or you might believe your own act, and go down in flames. I mean, that's WHY I took acting lessons for years off and on. YMMV, but I'm proselytizing that it shouldn't have. I'm telling ya, you can know too much about how to act around homo sapiens in the wild. Get professional help. At least consider going to acting school. LOL
The size of this font is making my eyes roll in confusion. I changed from a teeny tiny 10-point font to a bold 14-point font, and my eyes, habituated for years to the old default font, got the can't-help-its and acting jive-assed and jitterbuggy.
I'm so new to AppleScript I still find myself fascinated by all the cracks I find in the sidewalk. I don't have a clue where my intrique will lead to. There is lots of stuff about AppleScript that came with the Operating System that I haven't looked at. Just now I opened up some ready-made scripts with the heading "URLs". One of them was a script for opening CNN inside a browser, so I double-clicked on it to see what would happen. Exactly what it was supposed to do. A browser page with CNN headlines staring me in the face. Quick. Uncomplicated. Worth a shortcut on the desktop for sure. I've been doing things the hard way.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
