In as much as I am unable to prove either that I exist or that I don't, I
do now and heretoeverafter, publicly announce my acceptance of the
proposition that I am. If I am not, it doesn't matter for I will never
know that I am not. I am still not sure about anything or anybody else's
actual, real, physical existence and I do not feel that logic can prove
that all such experiences of such other beings that I encounter in my
existence are not just flashbacks from the sixities.
Now then, since I am -- and since I cannot prove that all you people are,
then I get to make up, decide, determine, delineate all the rules. I and I
alone get to differentiate between the ineluctable and the eluctable, the
inexorable from the exorable. Other than the crude bodily processes that
impinge their inexorableness and ineluctableness upon my existence, other
than the screaming of the gonads (more like a whimper now) and other such
gross bodily needs and demands (can you tell that I was raised Catholic?)
other than that, life is mine to be meaningfillized in whatever way pleases
me. I am the meaningfiller of existence. It is totally up to me what it
all means.
So then, what is meaningful? Ah, there's the rub.
Mike Geary
Meaningfullizer of Memphis
