If we're all one then why am I talking to myself? You show me the founder of a religion and I'll show you an old man who thought to make himself king by confusing people. You show me a religion itself and I'll show you rules for grasping at straws while blindfolded. You show me a religion that doesn't talk about where the world came from or what it's made of or what it's like, and I'll tell ya: that's a good religion! Sign me up! So you've got three and you've got four. You got 'em together. So you got seven, right? And if you got seven, then you also got one THRU seven. IF...THEN. When? And who's got them? There's no IF and THEN with numbers! Only with people who have them! No creatures to make propositions? No propositions! No propositions? No truth values! Dig yourself outta THAT one! Tonsillitis is a symptom of...what? Cuz we all have it apparently or something like it. Ripples...ripples...ripples in the stars. Something is approaching. Uroboros, the self-swallowing snake, slithers across the galak-zee toward our schizofrantic planet. It is 2012. We have a decision to make: try to fight that unknown menace, that huge wandering space-worm with an appetite for solar-systems (all our nukes won't make a dent in something that EATS STARS), or try to build a planetary life-raft to slip past it unnoticed (we're just GERMS to that damn thing).