One day, I shall disappear forever from this earth. My body will be utilized as much as possible by the scientific community, be that as a crash dummy, an organ donor, an anatomy cadaver (this is my biggest hope), or dinner for a serial killer. Whatever remains from that process will be destroyed. The lengthy mental ejaculations I have made through this blog, my music, perhaps books, and my charming conversations and speaking engagements will be lost. In short, I will be scattered atoms and nothing more.

It’s kind of a chilling thought, but it’s also the way things go. So very little remains of all the life that has existed on this planet before this moment, and the reality is that life is impermanent. Geez, felt kind of like a Buddhist there for a minute. Only I think that when it’s done, it’s DONE done. However, every now and then we get the opportunity to find some relic from the distant past and speculate about it.

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I don’t mean a spanking, either. I mean one of those bastard Catholic school bat the size of my head beatings to the ass in the front of the room for all to see. I was trying to think of another non-religious image to go with the kind of paddling I mean, but the fact of the matter is that it’s Catholics who seem to have a monopoly in my head for all of the worst, most savage humiliations. But yes, that’s the sort of awe-inspiring paddling that some people need. Who’s in the mystical group? Well, for starters there’s a mess of obvious choices, like Catholic priests who like to abuse children. Of course, we’d add pretty much anyone who says that Jesus told them to run for President. And also, the people who caused Rebecca Watson to post this.

Hey, we’re skeptics. We’re generally pretty vocal about our opinions. And we are notorious for not agreeing on much of anything. I get that, and I applaud it. In the words of Ice T, if you’re thinkin what I’m thinkin, then only one of us is thinkin. But Rebecca has been a target for months simply because she spoke her mind. And on what awful topic did she do this horrible deed?

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Last night, I sat outside with the Lovely Lady talking about what two people in love talk about. Our conversation was paused temporarily by the sounds of young love down the street. A male voice yelled out “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?” Then a car started up. It would become clear that the driver of this car, whose name was Kat if I heard it correctly, was not interested in spending the night with her boyfriend.

There was much yelling from the boy, often growling out that he just wanted her to roll down the window so they could talk. Or maybe she could just open the door so they could talk. Or maybe she should just park the car and come inside. Or maybe she could open the door so he could JUST FUCKING HUG AND KISS YOU. That one was easily the growliest thing he said the whole time.

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