And those little boxes where you draw a picture and it ends up inside, you look in the little hole, what were those . . *runs off* . . sound of googling . . . ah =) And a million paper footballs. Made ‘em outa gum wrappers, it’d put your eye out. And my favorite paper airplane. In Portugal, I was jacked up all morning knowing later I was going to go to the highest place I could find in our hotel and send one out into the plaza. There were many, it was splendiferous, no one seemed to mind.
Folding and creasing in beautiful symmetric ways, as human obsession, are only a little ironic as they lead us to the “holy grail of modern molecular biophysics”. I bet I can make those planes to a very tight mechanical tolerance. I could . . with joy . . make them everyday like a worker in a Chinese sweat shop.
As we inch closer to our density, we come closer to the vanishing point of misuse, arrogance and dogma. Be as a child means ready to distrust and fear, cower or run away as it does to be open and ready for new experience. The elimination of human suffering can only occur with the elimination of other sundry humanities and there will be no chance to choose. But it is this chance, this frighteningly unpredictable circumstance that is the true reason for our being. Why are we here? Irony.
Now, I gotta reset my Linksys access point . . .