Cotton God Titration

The following appeared in my Rob Brezny horoscope this morning, from Booker T. Washington's view: "I shall allow no man to belittle my soul by making me hate him." I tend to follow such. I really don’t think I hate anyone. Any time I’ve thought I hated someone, I eventually realized that there was some quality in that person, which was also in me and which I’d rather wasn’t in me. So I decided it an embarrassment to hate someone because that would mean I wasn’t facing up to something black in my soul and thus not moving forward toward deism. That is the goal, isn’t it?

This morning I drank a serving of cough syrup without having eaten anything. I knew it would make me feel undesirably funny, but I did it anyway. Now my ears are stuffed with cotton, which makes it more difficult for me to hear when someone is coming and smoothly change what’s on my computer screen, and my vision is somewhat askew; however, I still think clearly, unlike the time I swallowed Sudafed on an empty stomach and lost the ability to recall what number followed what in the number line. And that stuff is legal.

I don’t have much to do at work right now and so I keep touching my hair. This has got to stop.

Did you know the Doh! of Homer Simpson is in the Oxford English Dictionary? It is.