Zen and the art of colonoscopy

As an erstwhile writer I fancy myself a cheap-imitation Robert Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Though I didn't understand some of the book (I'll take his word on it regarding Poincare) and didn't agree with most of what I did understand, I admired his style and skill. Pirsig wandered about multiple subjects such as the nature of Quality, the care of motorcycles, and the relationship with his son, while tying it all in with the narrative of his slow descent into madness.

While I'm open the the possibility of the descent into madness, I prefer to think of the underlying theme of this blog as my march to extinction. I'm like a brontosaurus who wakes up one day and writes in his journal "Boy, it's cold today!" as the planet plummets into the nuclear winter of a massive asteroid strike.

Before too long, if I dwell on the dumb asteroids in my life, my limbic system melts down and I risk stroking out at the keyboard. Gotta change the subject for now. I'll return to my tail of woe later.

Which has precious little to do with either Zen or colonoscopy, so I'll leave you with this thought:

The fecal stream flows

Scopes go against the current

As the lawyers wait.