I can't stand vain, vacuous, airheads. They may be nice to look at, but I wouldn't want to 'own' one. I wouldn't trade my intellectual rebel in for anyone, as far as the mullethead is concerned. I wouldn't trade my mentor in, either. He's yet to be unable to answer my questions. Unwilling, yes; but NOT unable. After all, there are things I am not yet supposed to know. And I must admit, though I don't innately lean in that direction, he is HOT for a. . .um. . .sausage casing. In reality, he's the only lad I'd relate to nonplatonically, but some things over-ride gender, OK? Not to mention it's kind of fun playing every role in the book. Some times you feel like a bitch, some times you don't, ya know?
Such is life, or my simulacrum of it.
Speaking of the mullethead, it also wonders what's the ultimate importance of Physical Existence, considering how many lives some of us live, and all we take with us are memories.
Well, some of us. Those who had their slaves, animals, and other 'belongings' buried with them did have the Etheric counterparts of those items with them when they transferred, but unless there was a close relationship with those 'killed' for the sake of accompanying the esteemed one, they would find all buried with them of little use very shortly; if they had half a brain.
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