One day humanity will be destroyed by a race of superior beings, and this will be their superiority: They will have two opposable thumbs on each hand, one on the lateral side, like us, and another on the medial side. We will be helpless against their pollical dominance. Other terrestrial primates will see this as justice, I suppose. We've lorded our single thumb over them for millennia. We had a good run. Our conquerors will be impressed with what we were able to accomplish despite our limitations. They'll write songs about us, songs with complex finger-snapping rhythms, as is their way.
We should enjoy the time we have, my friends. We should be alert to each pleasure and joy that comes along, experiencing them actively, with our minds and hands and senses and wills. We should attack each sorrow fiercely and stab it hatefully in the heart and rend it limb from limb and pound our fists in the pools of its blood and scream profane curses at the memory of it. We should dance enthusiastically to the beat of every song, however stupid we might look doing so. Of course, I don't really mean all of this. Some of us prefer to sit quietly through it all and just smile or sigh from time to time. Still it's true. It's all true. Dance the dance of your deep stillness. Do your dance. Kill the killers. Love the lovers. All of that. I don't know.
Hello, friends. I hope you're well. Are you?
Later. Love.
