|Oh, great. They said The Afterlife would have donuts.|
Empty your mind of all thoughts.
Like you had any graymatter left, anyway?
Let your heart be at peace,
but try to stay conscious.
Watch the turmoil of the small beings,
but only contemplate using duct tape.
Each separate being in the universe
returns to the common source.
Returning to the source is serenity.
But only after the small beings leave for school.
If you don't realize this,
you stumble in confusion and sorrow,
and wonder why you ever let Ma-ma talk you into this.
When you realize that parenting is like hitting yourself in the head with
a ball peen hammer, and that it feels really good when you stop,
you naturally become tolerant of hitting yourself in the head
with ball peen hammers.
Disinterested, amused, bruised,
shellshocked as a WWI grandfather,
dignified as a trussed chicken.
Immersed in the stupified wonder of A Man Called Da-da,
you think you can deal with whatever life brings you,
but you’re so wrong.
And when death comes, you are so ready.
But don’t get cocky.
A Man Called Da-da always comes back as The Living Dead.
Like you're gonna get off that easy?
[Excerpted from Da-da's unpublished third book, The Tao of Da-da (or "Strong Winds CAN Blow All Day, Depending on How Much Sugar Has Been Ingested"). Enlightened publisher inquiries welcome. Void where prohibited. We're coming for you, Barbara.]
|Ah, THERE they are. Mmmm, Afterlife Donuts...|