Cadillac Man may be ready to make the move in right about a month.
Some last pre-flight situations are being worked as in physical work but he's getting excited about a new world.
Zen Yogi: he will be in the world rather than watching it from somewhere else
Is this the "Life is More than a Four-Inch Screen" sermon, Yogi?
Zen Yogi: something like that
I've heard that one, buddy ... I think from you.
Zen Yogi: it's the city air as it makes me forget things a lot
Lotho lives in the country.
Zen Yogi: I thought you had to be in the middle of Nebraska in some place even snakes don't go to be really country?
Nah, people get clear on that quickly after getting stuck in a Cincinnati traffic jam in the Summertime and sweating through that glory. They still don't really know what is country but they know well what isn't. Lotho's pad is not in that mess at all.
Zen Yogi: where will Cadillac Man go?
Anywhere he wants, my furry bear buddy.
Zen Yogi: do you think he will get to Sanctuary?
After this move, he will already be most of the way there. He will be in the trail of the real Americans, the Indians, and living in his new way he will do it as they did since they leave no trace behind them. He will still burn some fuel but not so much and he needs to eat but, beyond those, his demands on the planet will be slashed.
He will also still be consuming a little bit since he will probably pick up little things along the way so he can blow into town sometimes and the grandkids will go apeshit, "Grandpa, Grandpa!!"
He will have lots of little goodies he found along the way because, well, Grandpas always do.
CM will be living like the Great Greek Zen Man.
Zen Yogi: who is that, Silas?
Constantine Cavafy wrote "Ithaca" and ...
Zen Yogi: I know this Great Greek Zen Man
I thought you might, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: he's fast when he steals pic-a-nic baskets. He's a good man.
Well, he was, Yogi, but his poem lives as an ongoing marvel of non-aquisitive philosophy. He tells us to arrive at Ithaka when there's nothing left, when we're burned-out, dragged-out, buckets of bolts. It's almost our obligation to use ourselves up completely in fulfillment of whatever we would do in life.
Zen Yogi: that doesn't sound like raging against the dark night
Dylan Thomas didn't do that either. He was one drunken monkey when he wrote the poem for his old Dad. He probably puked on himself after he finished it but he never raged at all, instead he continued drinking himself into his own grave such that he died a few years later. He didn't die with a rage but rather ... a burp.
Zen Yogi: sodden in his own urine
Aww, Yogi, this is a family show.
Zen Yogi: bullshit, Silas. No kid ever came here or at least no outraged adult never came about a kid coming here.
You're right. And, you know what ... you won't believe the entertainment we have arranged for tonight. We have dancers with boobies so nubile and firm they point up.
Zen Yogi: I didn't know that was even possible, Yogi
Don't miss the show, buddy.
Zen Yogi: do we need the Zen of smoking yourself into an early grave?
Nah, as I don't need the introspection and this bit isn't about me anyway; it's about Cadillac Man going into something he has considered for quite some time. Breaking out when you're twenty isn't even a millimeter of the risk relative to doing it when you're longer on the trail than that so Cadillac Man has been making his plan and is making his move.
Zen Yogi: stones like cannonballs?
It's true, mate, since it takes balls to do more than talking about the outside of boxes and instead to get yourself the hell out so we're proud of the old boy.
Zen Yogi: old?
He's got me by about six months so, sure, that's ancient, right?
Some last pre-flight situations are being worked as in physical work but he's getting excited about a new world.
Zen Yogi: he will be in the world rather than watching it from somewhere else
Is this the "Life is More than a Four-Inch Screen" sermon, Yogi?
Zen Yogi: something like that
I've heard that one, buddy ... I think from you.
Zen Yogi: it's the city air as it makes me forget things a lot
Lotho lives in the country.
Zen Yogi: I thought you had to be in the middle of Nebraska in some place even snakes don't go to be really country?
Nah, people get clear on that quickly after getting stuck in a Cincinnati traffic jam in the Summertime and sweating through that glory. They still don't really know what is country but they know well what isn't. Lotho's pad is not in that mess at all.
Zen Yogi: where will Cadillac Man go?
Anywhere he wants, my furry bear buddy.
Zen Yogi: do you think he will get to Sanctuary?
After this move, he will already be most of the way there. He will be in the trail of the real Americans, the Indians, and living in his new way he will do it as they did since they leave no trace behind them. He will still burn some fuel but not so much and he needs to eat but, beyond those, his demands on the planet will be slashed.
He will also still be consuming a little bit since he will probably pick up little things along the way so he can blow into town sometimes and the grandkids will go apeshit, "Grandpa, Grandpa!!"
He will have lots of little goodies he found along the way because, well, Grandpas always do.
CM will be living like the Great Greek Zen Man.
Zen Yogi: who is that, Silas?
Constantine Cavafy wrote "Ithaca" and ...
Zen Yogi: I know this Great Greek Zen Man
I thought you might, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: he's fast when he steals pic-a-nic baskets. He's a good man.
Well, he was, Yogi, but his poem lives as an ongoing marvel of non-aquisitive philosophy. He tells us to arrive at Ithaka when there's nothing left, when we're burned-out, dragged-out, buckets of bolts. It's almost our obligation to use ourselves up completely in fulfillment of whatever we would do in life.
Zen Yogi: that doesn't sound like raging against the dark night
Dylan Thomas didn't do that either. He was one drunken monkey when he wrote the poem for his old Dad. He probably puked on himself after he finished it but he never raged at all, instead he continued drinking himself into his own grave such that he died a few years later. He didn't die with a rage but rather ... a burp.
Zen Yogi: sodden in his own urine
Aww, Yogi, this is a family show.
Zen Yogi: bullshit, Silas. No kid ever came here or at least no outraged adult never came about a kid coming here.
You're right. And, you know what ... you won't believe the entertainment we have arranged for tonight. We have dancers with boobies so nubile and firm they point up.
Zen Yogi: I didn't know that was even possible, Yogi
Don't miss the show, buddy.
Zen Yogi: do we need the Zen of smoking yourself into an early grave?
Nah, as I don't need the introspection and this bit isn't about me anyway; it's about Cadillac Man going into something he has considered for quite some time. Breaking out when you're twenty isn't even a millimeter of the risk relative to doing it when you're longer on the trail than that so Cadillac Man has been making his plan and is making his move.
Zen Yogi: stones like cannonballs?
It's true, mate, since it takes balls to do more than talking about the outside of boxes and instead to get yourself the hell out so we're proud of the old boy.
Zen Yogi: old?
He's got me by about six months so, sure, that's ancient, right?
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