He was chillin'
, sippin' on the gin and juice
and goin' on and on about this, that, and the other thing
, and so I says to him: "Hey, Lord
, what about the presidential election
in the US
He said, "I reckon it won't matter much in the long-view. It's quite possible that, no matter who wins, they won't exactly have a mandate of the people, you know? I think a call for a re-vote would occur, could the people do that without risking losing their democracy."
I says, "Yep, I think you might be right."
He nods and says, "So, what you think of the nodeshell rescue team?"
And so I go, "Man, I don't even have an opinion. You node?"
He said, "Yeah, but I got envious of Pseudo Intellectual's writeup count, ya know? I mean, how can he do that? I know everything and I ran out of things to say."
"That's why you end up noding bullshit."
"Yeah, but you know you're going to node this when you get home. I mean, have you earned your bullshit?"
"Yeah, you're right. But nodes about everything are just masturbatory. And every sperm is sacred, right?" And then I suddenly realized I was speaking in metaphor.
"It's gotten into your head, right? I mean E2."
I put my head down in shame. He patted me on my head and said, "It'll be all right. You've found me. Is there anything you want to know?"
"Yeah, I suppose." I stall, what to ask, what to ask, so I know and I can node the meaning of life without bringing up Douglas Adams, and I stumble, and spit out the first question I can ask the Lord directly, "How do I get home?"
And he said unto me, "Go down Main Street 'til you hit Cherry, take a right, then a left at the stop sign, 2 houses down on your left. You've got a Diet Coke machine on your porch."
"Don't mention it."