I almost called this “the myopia of utopia” cuz, um, it rhymed, but that’s what I wuz burbling ‘bout last week. It can’t jus’ rhyme, it’s gotta mean somethinc too, and the “myopia of utopia” means nothinc. Sayin’ utopia is myopia (I do like to say it a lot tho, cuz ya know, it rhymes), is like sayin’ the sky is azure (er, blue).  In fact of point (-y head), utopia is practically visionary in its blindness. It nose (knows) that it’s ideology, it doesn’t claim to be anythinc else. It is perfectly happy to be ‘bout perfection.

But god, all-knowing, all-wise god, needs to get some glasses. (Would you stop picking on god Mike? I believe the idea can defend itself, and if it can’t, ah well).  BTW, notice I’ve decided not to capitalize god. How ‘bout politicians etc. and preacher-sellers, not capitalizing on god. Hmmmm?

But this is not even what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. What are you talkin’ ‘bout? O.k. I’ll tell ya. There is always this game ‘bout what separates us from, well, from what we’re separate from. In outré words, what is it, that is, IS, a humane bean (see Tylerism). It is a truth universally acknowledged that it is almost impossible to do somethinc that would seem to be, well, not so impossible (um, possible). That is this. That. Is. This. Colon. (:) (not a smiley) (-:

Knowing that ...

Other people are other people. Huh? Other people are different than you. Whu? Other people have had different experiences. Really? Other people have different points of view? Mygawd!

Humane beans have trouble with this. I have trouble with this, and I spend a lot of time, a lotta time, on it. Yet this is it. This is the winner of the above game. This is what separates us from what is separate from us. We can do it. To be a humane bean is to know this, even if it is almost impossible (not possible) to act on it. (Action is not complicated, or usually is, pause, not.) God (only capitalized cuz it’s the beginning of the sentence) is of course the idea that you don’t have to confront this idea. It is faith that casts aside the doubts that the differences between people provokes. This is the myopia of god.

In this menagerie of words above, all the hoots and hollers, and cackles and quacks, of the farmyard (my confusing prose) are two. One, on this day that celebrates Dads, I’d like to give a shout-out to my Dad, who brought me into the world, after he already brought me into the world, by talking about the world as the world talks, in a cacophony, and yet still kept a safe-feeling focus, a moral connection, as the differences collide.

And two, as the two presidential candidates collide one seems also to understand this, and one, my friends, no matter what he purports, simply, temperamentally does not. Yes good fences, make good neighbors. And good speeches are given by good listeners, that’s how they know what to say.