 What would it be like to be a whale surrounded at all times by salty sea
water so big you don’t even know how big yet eating tiny things you don’t even know their names just eat them because they come in front of you I can’t imagine it’s a very happy life and in spite of what I hear contentment might be possible of course and contentment is so hard to come by maybe that should be called happiness now that I think of it I have always felt close to whales and especially blue whales not so much humpbacks because they look sleek and powerful and also have ridges and warts under their chin not ugly warts just warts I always liked blue whales because since very young blue has been my favorite color I do like orange as well though it’s not as useful as blue I wish there was an orange whale and now that I think of it why not orange is not a normal color like blue or red I get the shivers thinking about a red whale but an orange whale would not draw so much attention for example as a red which would bring people from all around the four corners but an orange whale could bring happiness to all the drab whales who would see him and think wow an orange whale
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 I view my wife as I would a wild beast.
The only morality that may be attached or applied to her actions is her internal morality, a natural construct. She may do things I don’t like; it’s none of my business. If she wants to tell me about it, I listen. It’s Interesting—just not the reason I love her. That one, that’s a mystery I haven’t solved.
 “It looks like the human race is finally coming to an end!”
the rat said to his friend, who responded, “What makes you think so!? The smartest of us have predicted this for thousands of years, and it still hasn’t happened!” “Well, just look at what’s going on!” the first rat answered. “War, disease, famine, drought, murder, suicide, and mayhem wherever one looks. I have to believe that it’s never been this bad!” “You need to read more human history!” the second rat replied. “It’s always been like this. And, in fact, there have been periods when it’s been much, much worse. . .”  “Human life doesn’t seem to have any meaning--
each of them just muddling through their existence!” the rat expressed to his friend, who responded, “No truer words have been spoken! Not to mention how we are treated: killed in traps, poisoned, and hit with blunt objects for no other reason than we don’t look like them, smell like them, nor act like them.” “Brilliant analysis!” the first rat responded. “If only we could put rat poison in their drinking water and alcoholic consumptions!” “That would be poetic justice!” the second rat replied, “but unfortunately poetic justice is such a rarity in a world like ours. . .”
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