Achieving the Divine Spark

AS MAN ACQUIRES MORE AND MORE knowledge of his surroundings, he is always joyful in his discovery that no other species has managed to amass as much money in so little time. By far the richest of God's creations, Man has the funds to search and ponder his place among the creatures of the Earth and then watch the reruns on his VCR.

Yet, ironically, as Man learns more and more he seems to be able to fit his knowledge into less and less space. Current computers that contain the sum total of human knowledge are no bigger than a man's thumb, and are shrinking every day. Soon the devices for storing knowledge will be far too small to read from, and the great advances of civilization will be lost.

For this reason, as technology hurdles us forward into the great unknown, it is important that we do not ignore what distinguishes us from the lower beasts of the jungle and what therefore makes us far more likely to be invited to many of the more festive occasions of the well-to-do--that is, our unlimited ability to be confused. Humanity's inherent confusion sparks the randomness of thought that is necessary to advance society. Random thoughts breed invention, and inventions--if the copyright is secured--often lead to joyous quantities of nice crisp money.

Nowhere are random thoughts better expressed than in the unlimited free association afforded by diaries. What follows are excerpts from a mind that has been primed for introspection by the endless opportunity for random thought that Harvard offers to students in large lecture classes. If these ruminations are indicative of humanity as a whole, it is evident that our future as a race is limited only by the official guidelines of the network censors, and even these, it must be remembered, are becoming less and less stringent every day.

The following journal entries are all that could be translated from the brilliant yet cryptic texts that were recently found in the secret archives of the author who, we must sadly report, has committed ritual suicide to protest the unsightly green vomit that Harvard pours all over the yard each spring.

I often find myself immersed in gasoline and jumping head first into flaming buildings only to discover that I have forgotton to don my asbestos undergarments. Oh, diary, sometimes I think nothing makes any sense...if all living material is composed of protoplasm does this mean that Christie Brinkley is made of the same material as Buddy Hackett?

Am deeply troubled with moral dilemma...should men who let their beards get if their soup be put to death? Are we taking manners too seriously--putting our civilization above humanity? Perhaps a strong reprimand and a stiff fine will do...but how can we be sure he won't do it again?

Sometimes before I shampoo my hair I read the directions on the bottle--"lather, rinse, repeat"--and then become trapped in the infinite cycle. It often takes weeks before I am discovered and rescued.

Maybe I should switch brands.

Insecurity plagues my daily activities and plunges me into involuntary reflection...if God made humans in His own image, why does Tammy Bakker look like multi-colored tupperware was abstractly melted all over her face? I am forced to question His good looks, and even the brand of cologne He chooses to wear, if in fact He can be said to wear any cologne at all in the Biblical sense.

If it is normal behavior to murder, then murder should be legal. If it is insane behavior to murder, then everyone who murders will go free on the insanity defense. I am very excited about this latest revelation, and have been enthusiastically preparing a victim list for after graduation when hope to have more time.

To be truly alive, we must seek to express our souls. I feel that in my poetry I have achieved the elusive divine spark that can express my innermost self and individuality better than anything else I do, save my unruly tendency to speak with my mouth full.

Baa Baa Black Sheep

Baa Baa Black Sheep,

Have you any wool?

Yes Sir,

No Sir,

We can't make up our minds.

Mary Had A Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb,

Little lamb, little lamb,

Mary had a little lamb

Whose fleece was made of snow.

Every time that Mary went,

Mary went, Mary went.

Every time that Mary went

To Florida, her lamb would melt.