Anonamas258

They say God sends locusts to chastise the wicked,    so I wonder what we did to deserve the moth summer. I’m talking thousands of the bastards;    winging through the parks and the schools and Town Hall and the supermarkets,    shedding their filthy dust. Better keep your windows down, don’t want to end up like Mr. Jones. Two days out of town with a crack to let the breeze in,    and poor Mr. Jones came back to hundreds of fat, full-bellied moths.    He chased them out, but already his couches,    his clothes, his carpets, the wallpaper, the sheets,    and the lampshades were all eaten away. My dad said he never knew mo

I know. If I do not, I learn. If I cannot, I do not believe. I am five of one-hundred, and they say I am the lowest of us. A reply: ripples from a stone. You know me, from your stories and histories: Feynman, Ayn Rand, Jefferson, Joe Steel. Sherlock, Spock, and Aristotle. I neither defy nor challenge authority, though I circumvent it when I must. It’s more efficient that way. I love, and I hate. I hate blind acceptance, tradition for tradition’s sake. Ignorance (willful or otherwise), the lack of second guessing. Those without restraint. I love— Thought and innovation and names and what is yet to come.