Because of Friday, I was prepared to do a thing about the aardvark and will he dance, why not, or whatever.  But y’all had pretty much got that covered his adventures in assorted debouchery and neglectfulness to dance.  (Good job with that, guys/womyn!) And then the Internet blogserver was bust a gasket or something.  So I thought twice and yet again.  So……

Deep cleasing breathes have serve me well in the past, so a few good ones of those was well in order.  Then try to just relax open my third eye, a get a good vibration going on my kundalinies, and just…..  Blog. 

Ultraman.  You know him.  I know him .  He got his power was from the sun.  When his colorlight (on his middle of the chest) would start flashing, he had to, ect.  But what I’m really interested is, you remember how the start of that show, there was the paint?  And its swirling, swirling, swirling slowly of a mix of brightly colors?  And your like okay, paint, but is got to do with Ultraman?  And then… as if a magic, the swirls are convalescing into a word, a word that is, you guessed it, Ultraman.  (I’m assume that was Ultraman in Japan letters.  Or something else more and less mostly like Ultraman.  I’m just assume its not the sponsors name like some Japan paint company.)

How did they even do that!?!?!?!  Can you imagine how many times they had to swirl that paint to get it to come out just exactly?  That’s what bobbles my mind.  When I see that, there must be a God or Goddess. 

But, then again, let’s face its Orientals.  Whatever one might say, the Orientals are a patience people.  For you or me, to try and try again to swirl that paint, it would a kind of torture or boringness, but a Oriental must, I think, have the focus of energy and the mind to do it.  I am always very envious of that Spirituality— to swirl the paint, snatch the pebble out the old man’s hand, or do a silent ninja disappearance. 

And maybe just maybe that’s the problem.  If we could rap this up in a neat little bow to the issues of today, maybe it would be….  the Envy.  Helloooo!  Theres a reason it was one of the Seven Silent But Deadly’s.  There’s a reason why, of all, its the Green One.  I’m guess I’m getting a round to in my roundabout is :  We should not be so envious.  Of the Others and there cultures—the French and their wines, the Cubans and their cigars, the Arabs and their natural gifts for oil.  We should just relax and let us be who we are—hamburgers, sitcoms, Spring Break Datona.  Whatever!  Its okay.  (Although I do think we should have the free Canadian healthcare.  Or maybe one of those other ones, Norway I think.)

I DO think we could still have California wine, just as long as were humble about it.  You know, maybe not try so hard to beat the French at there own game.  Just say, yeah, sure, its just a California Pinot Griggio.  Its not French, but its still good enough for are humbled purposes.  I think the world would like us more if we could get together and do some more humilty.  Its worth a try any way.  It couldn’t hurt. 

Like Bartle and James.  You know, Bartle and James had the humilty we could all used more of today.  What’s its especially amazing is how it was in the greedy old days of Reagan, but these guys were just who they are.  They were not out trying to snatch pebbles, or steal oil, or export “so-called” democrasy on a pointy bayonet.  No, they sat on there porch and they made there coolers, the good old American way.  With fruit.  And they were pretty good sometimes, on a hot day.  (The watermelon ones were dangerous—proceed with caution.  YMVM.)

(Aslo, strawberry kiwi.  I’m gag a little just thinking about that sad episode.  Long story.  Trust me, you are better off not even knowing about this one.)

Anyway.  I don’t know if Patsy McSlapshake is coming back to boot us all of us interloopers out of the cornpatch, but if so is been fun in the meanwhiles.  Thanks for listening/sharing with me. 

Courage. 

P.S.  Freebloggin’ is the series of it started with this one.