It doesn’t matter what you know. Ideas tend to come and go like water, winding to and fro until it’s got no place left to go. Everything dries up and fertilizes something. Or it doesn’t matter much, does it?
And thinking isn’t for the sort who think of it as some great sport where someone’s always coming first or get traded. Yeah, that hurts. It sounds a lot like some old song, but I’ve got my cross-reference wrong. Besides if all we do is feel, that’s going to make it so much more real, isn’t it?
I’m not so sure. There’s so much prohibition tied up with freedom of speech and inhibition in general is sometime left to the less poetic. All I know for sure is the timing may not really matter, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the excrement from the air conditioner. Like the subtle difference between root beer and sarsaparilla. In life so much depends on your palate. If you’re lucky to live that long, your taste buds renew themselves about every ten years. Sounds like that ought to a sentence (or maybe term) limitation. Nobody wants to split hairs, but we’ll split an atom.
So it doesn’t matter what you know. Because that’s less than what you think you know. Which is of course less than what you say you know. Which if you’re prudent enough, is less than what people think they know about you. A drop in the bucket, and the bucket’s got a hole in it, it won’t hold no beer. Some country music used to reference real world economic and logistical concerns.
© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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