On Sunday, I was driving around with Urrka, which is a mixed bag. 90% is excellent because I like to spend time in the car. That's some quality fruit. 10% is terrible because it often means we listen to the radio. I hate the radio more than anything. I was griping about it because it was terrible on every channel as always and Erika said I like 10% of what is on the radio. I think that is a high guess. I like NPR on Saturday nights. That's super. Then I maybe like 2 songs total from all the other stations combined...maybe. I'm pretty sure that's not 10% of what's out there. The radio relates well to Trevo's recent discussion (see Rev Trev link to the right). The radio is not in itself a good or bad thing. They could play excellent jams on the radio (much like some of the stations on iTunes). There is that potential, but it lies within those who run the radio stations. Those who run the radio stations have the same taste as a four-year-old child who thinks that the Wiggles are excellent musicians. Therefore, radio is evil, but only because of the humans behind it.
So this was especially unfortunate because we were listening to my bane, Christian radio. There was this song on that E really likes, so I gave it the old listen. I have no idea what it is called, or who it is by, but I was sitting there driving, and I heard..."My God is all He's gonna be."
No Way, I thought. There's a song against Process Theology on the radio. I was so happy because I thought it was so hilarious and super that there was something so theologically directed in a Christian song. I'm not trying to hate on Process Theology. I actually really respect Process Theology. It's a bit anthropocentric, but what else do we really have to go off of? I kind of dig Process Theology the way I dig many theologies...I don't agree, but I respect the pursuit. Regardless, I couldn't believe this song. I started going on about how great that was, and Euriskow asked me what the heck? It turns out the song says, "My God is always gonna be."
This made me think, what kind of world is my brain living in? I'm so into theology, that I really think there is an East-Coast/West-Coast-rap style feud going on in the world of Christian radio between varying theological traditions. Honestly, I think my brain heard what it wanted to hear as an excuse to roam free like a buffalo who has been locked in the Denver Zoo since birth, longing for the day when a kind-hearted fisherman named Josh Dever would win the lotto and buy himself a nicer boat, a taco bell franchise, and my freedom. He would ride on in to town with 700,475 in cash (that's 2,000 over my worth, he doesn't want any problems with the transaction), hand it over to Ted Billingsly (the Z.E.O.) and we would leave town together, hand in hoof. I would probably head on out to the West side of the Rockies to roam free. That is why I was purchased after all. This makes me wonder how much my perception of reality is skewed by myself. For that matter, how much is everybody's perception of reality skewed by themselves? Eat that modernism. I guess the only reasonable solution is solipsism. So eat it, everybody but me and God. Pals together forever. Like my mind and Josh. Except not really, because I left Josh on the east side of the Rockies. You probably know what I mean though.
Yesterday I came home and Erika bought mini bananas at the grocery store. I can't believe how incredible mini bananas are. Perhaps you're wondering why I didn't know about the glory of tiny bananas before yesterday. You can't expect me to know everything. I'm not a wise sage who has wandered the earth, searching for a giraffe and an octopus peacefully coexisting as a very loving, but totally platonic pair of old pals who are there for each other no matter what. Like the time that ole' Gred (the giraffe) got into quite the pickle trying to get the last pickle in the pickle jar, because pickles rule, especially the tiny ones because they are so crunchy much like how tiny bananas rule except they are not crunchy, and she got her hooves stuck in the jars...all four. Clearly she couldn't go to work with pickle jar hands. She works at dang Fazoli's. How are you supposed to serve up breadsticks with dang pickle jars on your hooves? Heck, how are you supposed to serve breadsticks with hooves in the first place? Only the people who found Gred and Borty (the octopus) know because it's the only place where Fazoli's hires giraffes. So Borty covered for Gred and was even able to serve up 18 times more breadsticks on account of his suckers and tons of legs and stuff. But he still gave Gred all the money from the shift while she got Mips to get the pickle jars off with a cutting torch. Why didn't they just break off the jars? Like I said before, I'm not omniscient. Sheesh.