Goodnight, mud.

It’s so terribly cliche, that I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but a fair amount of my philosophical “coming out” was influenced by the late Kurt Vonnegut.
(c) Unknown

Now, I know there are people there who read Slaughterhouse Five or Breakfast of Champions, and thought they understood the world. Anyway, more on that later.

Join me now in the last rites from Cat’s Cradle:
God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!”
“See all I’ve made,” said God, “the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.”
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God!
I certainly couldn’t have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait…

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