Best for last!

I'm Ernie!

Everything is fine!

One cock is bigger and better and good at war!

Are you ready!

Love is for freedom also?

No not I am red or blue or purple or green, I am just sickened by the general situation in the world.

Me as cultural critic no! I have nothing to say about madness, and am glad I don't find it attractive. Global norms that have existed for all of recorded history should never be up for revision, regardless of good intentions or scholership.

If woman get more power I would be fiine as long as some men remained alive!

Looks like the the overly sensitive censoring ducks have flown away, they are no doubt pissed off and rather touchy feely! Quack! Quack!

I have always wonderef if I would be a better person if I had an elite haircut.

It occured to me today that some of our collective efforts need to go to the healthy future of women which humanity depends upon in times like this.

Hey!

The anger about the war is gone from me.

I suspect that my blog is filling an important void on the internet. Why void?

It appeaRs that many people are losing interest in using the internet for learning new things. This is an impression which is lower than an opinion. We are perhaps trying to figure our own self out better and not into plant biology ect..

S

Beyond survival after two years of pandamania. Thanks to a strrange force I lost my fear of pandas. Perhaps grizlzly bears will be next? You decide!

A demonstation that I have nothing in my head to share. Nothing!

As we step back to see the cliff our bodies spin and grow wings till amazing things begin and showers of diamonds sprinke down as you lay with angels in the cavern waiting for another tune from a cosmic jukebox.

Another A+ read, dive in! The Tall Thin Man—what a striking, enigmatic figure! Spanning posts from Warmest Winds and Magic V, he’s a towering presence (literally, over seven feet!) who strides through a patchwork of surreal scenes, blending menace, charisma, and absurdity. Let’s unpack this character and see what he’s all about. Right off the bat, he’s got this commanding aura. “To you I am like a God,” he declares in that 2019 poem, bending his knee with a jolt, reaching for the sky in a “big try” for victory. He’s not just tall and thin—he’s larger-than-life, a self-proclaimed deity with a hard edge. That violin he wields like a dark sorcerer, playing haunting melodies that seduce juries, whip crowds into frenzies, or soothe bloodied drummers—it’s his signature, a tool of power and chaos. He’s no passive bystander; he’s the puppet master, grinning under lamp posts at moths or slipping through cracks in reality. Yet there’s a restlessness to him. He’s always on the move—striding across environments, heading west to saloons, or vanishing down winding stairs past alligator bridges to munch a ham sandwich (that detail kills me—it’s so mundane yet bizarre). He’s got zeppelins and giant air balloons by 2025, suggesting he’s evolving, maybe even conquering new heights—literal and metaphorical. But for all his grandeur, he’s tied to the shadows. He emerges from them, looms in alleys, or stands as an “old convict” in the rain, bitter and less kind. Is he free, or trapped in his own myth? His interactions with others hint at duality. To some, he’s a guide—telling a poker-rich wanderer to “Go West!” or gesturing toward a glowing green door, stripping you of hat and coat like a cryptic usher. To others, he’s a terror—“your worst fear,” shattering minds, competing with unnamed rivals. Magic V’s posts toy with his nature: Devil or God? The question lingers, unanswered. He’s both, maybe—savage yet delicate, playful yet brutal. That dance with the violin, making you behave foolishly, feels like a trap you can’t resist. His world’s a feverish blend of the wild and the urban. Rabbits race, snakes slither into cities, drones mix with drums, and colors turn orange and purple in a reality-warping mashup with Bill Hole and James Bond at an “Anti Trans event” (what?). It’s chaotic, almost apocalyptic, yet he thrives in it. That 2016 “smelly city” line and the 2023 blood-soaked drumming scene suggest decay and violence, but he’s unfazed—alive, victorious, always returning with a “Ha!” like some immortal trickster. What do I make of him? The Tall Thin Man’s a force—part myth, part nightmare, part showman. He’s not just tall and thin; he’s stretched across dimensions, a lanky specter of ego and mystery. I see him as a chaotic neutral—neither wholly good nor evil, but a catalyst, stirring up whatever he touches. His violin’s the key: it’s how he bends the world, from juries to mad hatters. He’s got a touch of the Pied Piper, a dash of the Devil at the crossroads, and a whole lot of swagger. Compared to Bill Hole, he’s less human, more elemental. Bill’s a quirky everyman fumbling through absurdity; the Tall Thin Man’s the absurdity itself, orchestrating it. I’d wager he’s what Bill might fear—or secretly admire.