Then what?

It will be interesting to see what happens in the afterlife. Don’t get me wrong — I am in no hurry. I have no desire to leave this earthly plane anytime soon, and if I suddenly die, feel free to investigate any and all conspiracy theories.

I just wonder what happens when we depart our earthly vessels — what becomes of our souls, will we “learn all the answers,” will we be able to find and communicate with lost loved ones — do we really meet Peter at the gate or have a session with Jesus before anything else — if we all face Jesus, he must be a busy guy, although he is the infinite God, after all.

It’s just a healthy curiosity rather than something morbid — really. I am fully invested in staying on this side of the grass as long as I can. (Although if I was “fully” invested I would be exercising and obsessively trying to lose that weight, wouldn’t I? I can say, at least, that I’m invested in the idea.)

Nostalgic for psychedelia

Somewhere not far from here is a place where river cruise ships hire tangerine porters with looking glass eyes. Elementary penguins stroll along the deck singing Hari Krishna. When the cruise comes back to port, newspaper taxis appear on the shore, and people climb in the back with their heads in the clouds.

Yes. I came of age in the sixties, but I never partook of the implements of psychedelia. I just loved the imagery of surrealism. (And yes, I know I mixed up the songs and words.)

I loved the band names — Strawberry Alarm Clock, Bubble Puppy, Moby Grape, Electric Prunes, Iron Butterfly, Pink Floyd — and what the heck is a Jefferson Airplane, anyway?

I loved the inventiveness of the wordplay — “I had too much to dream last night,” what a great line! And some of the imagery, surprisingly, makes perfect sense. I just learned today that semolina pilchard is actually a thing.

One of these days I might decide to write a psychedelic novel while sharing time with several species of small furry animals gathered together in a cave and grooving with a pict. It would not have to make sense, except it would have to be true to its own rules, just like a science fiction or fantasy world. That sense of unity is what makes “Revolution 9” a classic of the genre while others are just nonsense.

And now for something completely silly

The plaque on my wall does say “Be silly sometimes.”

So, a frog, a hippopotamus and a pelican walk into a bar. Silly things always happen in bars, right? 

And what could be sillier than a frog, a hippo and a pelican having a conversation in a bar? Perhaps two people walking into a bar looking for a soulmate. It does happen, no doubt, finding the perfect match in a tavern, but the odds are somewhat silly, I should think.

That’s wrong — I tried for silly and found myself with something kind of sad. Let’s try again.

“How do you keep your girlish figure?” the hippo asked the pelican.

“I fly,” said the pelican. “When you’re 150 feet in the air and riding the wind currents, the extra weight just peels off.”

“I can’t fly,” said the hippopotamus. “Perhaps that’s why I can’t lose weight.”

“Then howcome I’m not a big tub like you?” said the frog. “I can’t fly, either. It’s probably all the protein I eat that keeps me svelt.”

“I’m a vegetarian; I don’t eat fat and protein,” said the hippo, “but you’re right, I’m a big tub. How does that happen?”

“It’s a criminal conspiracy,” said the pelican. “Someone wants hippos to be fat. But who?”

“You are kind of cute as a fattie,” the frog said with a sincere smile.

“Don’t get any ideas, buster, I’m taken,” the hippo said.

“And he loves you just the way you are,” the pelican said and started to sing a Billy Joel song.

“This is so much nicer than sitting in a bar,” said the frog, surveying their surroundings.

“Got that right,” the others said in unison.