A reader sent me a sheaf of pencil shavings, asking me if I’d apply my divination skills to discerning the future from the bundle.

Whoa, woe is me, weary and wornout, beset with warts and all manner of worrisome wheretofores.

Last night, I took apart the battery pack attached to this notebook computer to see what’s inside.

Six cells, labeled “LGEP218650,” glued and soldered together, with some circuitry tucked in beside.

A set of Li-ion energy packs whose roar is less trustworthy for long stints away from AC power sources.

Same for the pencil shavings.

How long ago were they made?  The wood I can figure out.  The graphite source is easy to trace.

But the patterns…hmm…

If I read them correctly, there is a secret executive order, approved by the World Court, that says, because everyone is less than six degrees of separation from anyone who claims association with al Qaeda or similar officially designated terrorist organisations, all members of our species are subject to unlawful seizure and indefinite imprisonment by those in military/police uniform but, most especially, useful as free labour in the New Corporate World Order profitmaking schemes.

And now, let the racial accusations fly (or at least hear politicians running for [re]election take claim for such): whites will fear retribution by nonwhites, nonwhites will fear retribution by whites and native Americans will moan, saying “Here we go again!”

I’m shaking in my boots.  Wait, I’m not wearing boots.  I’m wearing leather moccasins!  That means, yes, that I now have PETA on my tail and an association with native American fashion to contend with.

Where can I go?  Where can I hide my hide?

That’s what I get for telling readers not to send nude photos of themselves to me via post or email.  It just opens up all the other possible permutations and combinations of things that CAN be sent to me.

All I wanted to do was sit in my cabin in the woods and meditate on the meaning of the nothingness of meaning.

Instead, I have delivery trucks stopping by my house both night and day, dropping off packages carefully wrapped by those who hold the belief that I divine the future because I don’t care about the future and thus can tell the truth about what’s going to happen next in the collision of waveforms in the nearby sections of the known universe.

I lift my cup of tea, put in a drop or two of humour, doubt and disbelief, stir in a bit of sarcasm and happiness, and take a slow sip.

It is a good day.

The rhythm of lines of water dripping from the broken gutter forms quickly moving bars and stanzas of translucent sheet music following gravity’s trail from sky to ground, thanks to the condensed moisture (i.e., rain) heavy enough to be attracted to Earth’s core.

Time to investigate more about the subculture of the lilypad Arduino and its future effect upon us all…

…and wonder why facebook discourages making connections with complete strangers.  Aren’t we all connectable?  How else are we to reach out and get to know as many of our fellow seven billion as we can before we die?  Other than the unencumbered/uncensored Internet, that is.

Imagine an interconnected army of Elmos invading your children’s hearts and thought sets.  Wait, it already happened!  😉