2004-04-25 - 5:34 p.m.

"Sgt.Grillo, what is the secret of your success?", I was recently arsked by a fresh-faced young lad seeking counsel of his elder.

I told it to him then and I will tell it to you now: the secret is that I keep a piece of baloney in each of mine shoeses.

Oh, wait, not that secret, the OTHER secret....

The secret is that I don't give a fuck about time.

A wise man once wrote on a cloth napkin while waiting impatiently for the Dim Sum cart to come to his table: "Temporal Perspective is the leading cause of death, literal or otherwise".

Okay, the wise man was ME, but hell, don't I know what I'm talkin' about, huh? huh? YOUR FACE, SHUT IT NOW!!!

Nowadays der human brainpan has a nasty habit of looking down a tunnel towards the dark and scary "future", or looking back towards der cloudy and misty "past". My Bad Grillo Self has already preached unto thee about how time doesn't start over here and then go over there, time is ONE BIG PASTY LUMP OF STUFF. The more you can lessen the direction of its non-direction, the more time you will have to think about porn.

Not following the tyrannicockle dicktates of the clock is not going to autistomatically solve all yer probs, no no no, it's not sho shimple. What you must do is gently probe and manipulate the gummy marionette strings that time has attached to you. These "astral silver cords" conneck you to the timespace continuum in ways even my fat head doesn't fully git.

Most of our lives are spent trying to reach goals that lie ahead in the future. We expects to be happier later on, after we completes that project. But the quality of that experience is depreciated by our dependence on temporal perspective, like Hemingway's "Old Man and the Sea" where the deep-sea fisherdude's prize fish was eaten by other fish by the time he could tow it back to the mainland Your old friend Grillo knows full well that der ride IS der destinuatium, and thus...

Grillo has diarrhea, gotta go