Sat down it was a chelsea morning and the first guy whom I see? God. Not Jesus - God. I asked him what the women looked like in the Babylon era and he grinned. If you can't picture the planet with a crust of ice a mile thick covering it, you can't distract with questions about Babylon era women. So God, I ask, when some secular humanist says to one of your believers "the exactness of the universe is what you can count on" and the believer says, "oh no - it's God's will that you can count on" and Mr Abacus gives us a WTF? I spent a few minutes this morning thinking about making out with Sharon Weaver, a freckled early developer with a protruding set of incisors that made for some mandibular long lasting chubbies. Now God, pardon my effrontery but how different is your will and the perfection of the universe? You already answered that? Where? I missed it - that ice age crap? No, I don't ask questions I already know the answer to. The laughing dog says it perfectly - ignore reality and go with anthropomorphic shit. I can already tell that getting a straight answer from God will be a challenge. So I start to sing that song "what if God is one of us?" and God warbles "I'll be down to get you in a taxi, honey" so then I look him right in the eye and say "Jesus was better at this than you are" and God says "no kidding - people are still trying to be like him and he never got the chance to do his best stuff". So where's that leave us God? About two bitcoins from a brazilian wax. No crabs were injured in the making of this encounter.

A little merlot, some bud and a 98 deg, 'cuzz makes for a nocturnal gathering of April proportions.