You cannot escape the compassion of life

For those of you who missed last week’s Tuesday… which was most of you… it was, by far, one of the more bizarre evenings. Lemmie set the scene with Joe, myself, and a drunk and stone Rasta, who knew Joe via the taiji school.

Joe and I were just settling into a nice birthday beer, when Rasta man, let’s call him, Bob (which is not his name), says, “Hey, you’re Joe.”

And from then on, Bob did not shut up. First, it was stories and plans. He is planning on going to Prague, taking with him his sewing machine, his drill (he is a locksmith), and figuring it out there. Second, it is the discussion of intent versus intend. He intended to knock Joe’s lighter into his beer… this is where I started looking for an exist think that claret might ensue. Then, we moved on to religion. Faith is not belief according to Bob. He had faith that if he had one for Stella he would just up on the wall and rip off some of the knick-knacks thereon. It was in the religion discussion that the phrase, “You cannot escape the compassion of life,” was uttered. Finally, we closed out the evening with a discussion about butterflies, which Bob called flutterbyes, because in his word, “There’s no butter in those flies.”

See? See what you miss if you don’t come to Toledo?

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