Detach.

Uncouple.

Separate.

Split.

Phase out.

Dim.

Words of action to describe the best course to pursue when inundated with the constant babble of “Breaking news!” and “Trump did this!” and “Global warming!” and, and, and, (thud)

We all make constant decisions, we have to or else the actions around us will decide and this would usually mean our destruction.

“Uh…Fred? That bear is charging us. Do you think we should move?” Fred had already decided and started running leaving the befuddled companion asking the question to ponder on whether to run, discuss poetry with the bear, or just do nothing and get eaten.

Fun thing about decisions. They can become good decisions or bad decisions. They can save lives or kill lives. They can create something new or destroy something old.

The topic of this babble today is that I’ve made the decision to retreat back into my cave. A most wonderful cave. Buried deep in a dimension where nothing can touch me. No decisions, no pain, no anger, no hate, nothing to harm, age, or inflict angst.

What is news? For that matter what is global warming? What is racism? What is the purpose of tearing apart others both physically/mentally/spiritually?

Why is there the constant force of “I’m right, you’re wrong!”

It was interesting to see decisions of so many questions end up where the one pondering such turn into a victim. Being a victim is a decision. Being a victim gives the power of assigning blame.

Being a victim must truly be boring, just as being ‘right’ must also border on the side of seeing paint dry.

I personally like being wrong as then it is impossible to be a victim and thus boring. It also beats being ‘right’ as for humans being ‘right’ is like being a mountain for others to decide to climb and once on top plant the flag of “I’m right now and you are wrong.’

Yep, being wrong is actually very pleasant.

Is it wrong of me to write such babble? Absolutely! No one gives a shit and nor should they. They should be right and thus boring.

Anyway, even if the news and Trump and global warming and discussing poetry with a bear is the ‘right’ thing to decide to be affected by, being wrong and detaching from the herd is for me, the fucking best decision I’ve made in a long time.

So until I’m fully nestled back inside my cave and getting ready to sleep for another couple of thousand years, when I hear, “Whites are racist killers,” or “We’re all gonna die because there is a shortage of honey bees…” I’m just going to say, “You’re right, I’m wrong, and have a nice day.”