dangerelijah - The Monday Morning Memo

Okay, let’s review the facts:

1. You have been told that you should click only the uppermost image on a rabbit hole page to stay in the main shaft.

2. You have been warned that side tunnels are risky and you may enter a side tunnel if you click a lower image.

3. You clicked the image BELOW a lower image. Have you considered the implications of what you’re about to do?

4. Think about it: Wizzo opened the main shaft with some thoughts about racism and the diminishing role of whites in the future of America. He is obviously not in his right mind this week.

5. And you want to get weirder than that?

“A baby was born and a candle was lit.

The illumination that added to the brilliance of existence acquired the characteristics of humanity.

It too would strive for a purpose as the taunting winds of life seemed to hinder its external cause.

A little boy was staring up at the heavens in awe and wonder, and the candle with its extending and questioning flame, stretched toward the abode of God in defiance, its doubts to remain forever unanswered in a world of dormancy.

As happiness enveloped the boy in a protective shell, the flame danced and trembled with excitement, inspired by the winds of mockery.

A young man, his mind filled with stirring ideas, set out to conquer the world.

The candle set out in rebellion against darkness, with wild hisses and mounting expectations, and the melting wax of years piled like sediment in the foundation of a life.

Yet the young man had not a smile on his face, but resembled a sketch which had captured a moment of sadness, and the flame, burning away priceless years, let hundreds of years escape over its brim of light.

An old man, whose face was etched with the lines of toil, struggle, and emptiness, let his mind wander back to his moments of marvel, of delusions, of past and forgotten happiness, and many unquestionable aims, and his frail body which had wrinkled with the creases of emotion, trembled, and one lonely forsaken tear fell, shuddering down his cracked cheek.

His eyes closed, yet a faint smile seemed to suggest contentment, and as the whisper of God breathed softly a message of simple finality, the flame, with one last groping of anguish rose towards the sky, and then sank back into oblivion.

“

- Douglas Burdon

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