All humans are rogues. Cured only by death.

So, am I too, like all other humans, just a rogue? Sure! Just a notch less than those rascals wearing godly robes.

On a supra human level, yeah, I got That Which Is. Yet on a simple human level, rare are times when either my left or my right foot is not in some kind of shit.

People as a whole are shamsters. Grasp it well. And be well. Then, knowing fully well so, covering your butt, go on in life as if they are not. This is the only way to save your butt. Of course, you can always go live elsewhere. Like the Everest.

Don't worry. Life goes on. With or without you. So, live it, while it's given you.

After you die, a rare friend or family member may carry your memory throughout life. Most will forget you. As if you were never here.

Any silly ism or stupid book that considers men above women, must be shunned like a lowlife demon. For, all's one, barring none.

We're shadows! of naught;living, dying! for what's not.

Most humans are but beasts and bitches, till the One in All - this unconscious seeking, and conscious finding of it - 'em itches.