On the seventh day, God did, as is so often said, rest. But not without a little help. The Lord, dragging a bit from the drudgery of inflating all of eternity, stepped on a bunch of ripening grapes, and the godly fungus of ethereal toes did yield the yeast of ages. And there, suddenly, was …
So this Siddhartha Gautama fella, propped there beneath the midnight bodhi tree, feet fitted together like pretzel arms, the light bulb of his consciousness glowing with the pure unbroken filament of now. And in no religious statues or silly garden art, or any other caricatured renditions of the Buddha for that matter, is dude ever wearing …
So I was walking today back toward home just before twilight, after venturing onto an old farm path beside a fallow field a ways outside of town, seeking whatever, as you do. And that’s when I saw him, bald as some monstrous baby, jiggling and grinning in his way, the dust motes licking at his chubby …