john rah essay

There's no real reason for 36. As a kid I liked 3 and 7. There's no sense in having a favorite number. 6 won over 7 when I was over twenty. I had 37 on my hockey sweater in college.

6 was cult. With my friend and a friend of his. No reason. A form of irreverence to conviction. It was a good answer.

"How many gods are there."


"What I think he means...."

Which he didn't. He meant the question was a pointless question. The number six was just a random premeditated response.

There are other things about 36 and 6 which one could add to its meaning. For example, when your TV is broke or you are stranded on a frozen island, far south when the sun has gone north to where you would sit outside under a tree and wonder very random thoughts.

Such as Babylon. They like 6. They wanted 360° in a circle.

It rhymes nice with fish.

I see I'm sinking. For a point.

When I've written article 36 for jurnidit review, I will give up trying to make things clear. Enlighten the reader.

Who the fuck reads.


Six fish swam in a dish.
In the dish swam six fish.

Long as the water got oxygen,
they won't fuckin' die.

_flower stop_

I ain't threatening or nothin'. Someone else can write something here. I'm ignoring the rest of everything I do, which includes work on other words.

Where other worlds meet.

This uncontrolled raving is what I love.

Many things, like life.

He or I hide in the words.

_flower stop_

Cough syrup Six.

Six is the loneliest number.

ACDC is also nice live. No offence to the guy with the hat, he's a real worker and gives it all.

Bonn was simply sexy. He almost drown, well, he did, in his own Stereo type.

Dangerous things, stereo Types. Especially this writing and never knowing if it comes to anything.


Somehow, I gotta get it.

Maybe I'll have to do a Catholic song and if I wanna get blowed up, I can insult Mohammed.

What I wouldn't do. Moses sure. And the Mosque, Synagogue and Church. I have no choice. They are causing more harm than good. The whole business has to slow down. To a slow stop.

Get over it.

Use the buildings for the arts.

Community centers.

_flower stop_

The last page. For me here.

At least for a while.

Your host will go work on his music. Some new hits.

So, to sum it up. The militant war machine dictates our lives. This is not just my opinion. It has become somewhat obvious. Whether or not anyone can do anything against it ain't a question we can afford to ask. The war machine already has an intelligence of its own. Those in control of it, aren't. Even if they think they are.

It's simply no way to end it.

After billions of years of practically nothing other than matter and energy, is flesh. Animated to a heavenly art. Creatures with the makings of quite possibly the first gods in the universe.

A bit crazy. Not very subordinate. Like the war machine teaches us.

We don't need to believe it.

We can change the story to suit our needs.

War equipment and oil.

The two most powerful and destructive businesses in the world.

We all work for them.

It's time to ask for better conditions.

It might be time to accept that we are a global village.

A small and fragile village sitting on a thin crust of rock floating over a ball of magma. Flying through hazardous space with only a thin layer of atmosphere to separate life from death.

Death is nowhere. Whatever they'd have us believe.

This now is what it is and we are in it. How we choose.