The worship of Mammon may be vulgar or immoral, but it persists while other religions falter and disappear.
Posterity--the forlorn child of nineteenth century optimism--grows ever harder to conceive.
Eternity eludes us, even as a thought.
Lies save trouble now, but may return in thunder and lightning.
Sometimes I dread loneliness more than bores. Other times, the reverse.
Home again, I can groan, scratch, and talk to myself.