Wrong is the new right

[michaelsees]

Wrong About Everything



by Vicki Woodyard


I am wrong about everything when I am in my head. My head has been on so many trips it flies Medallion Class, but that’s another story. Once it got stranded at the Munich airport for three days and lived on head cheese, which luckily is available there. Another time I took a head trip to a famous guru who also lived in his head. He thought he was enlightened and so did his students. We all sat around and sang “I Ain’t Got Nobody,” but turns out he was lacking a heart as well. One by one the students caught on and became entangled in yet another head trip.


That leads me to yet another conclusion. We are all wrong about everything when we are in our heads. The head is no place to live; there’s just not enough room in there. We have all heard the phrase that some place had no head room; well, the head has no heart room, which is even worse. Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” He thought he was A Head of His Time, but we all know better. It should read, “I think, therefore, I am wrong.” For head trips are extraneous; no one need make them.


It is healthy to be wrong; try it sometime. You don’t have to wait until you get a ticket for following too close, which happened to a zealous spiritual student I know. His guru slapped with him a ticket and made him stay ten feet behind him at all times. He said he didn’t have ten feet, so his guru reduced the sentence to two feet. (I am writing this, so I can take ridiculous liberty with the law. By the way, the Law of One states that there is no duality, so be advised. You can’t really stand on your own two feet, much less stay ten feet behind anyone.) Someone is writing this and someone is reading it, which already confuses the heck out of me. Who is my audience and why are they reading this drivel. One of us is clearly wrong. As the Everly Brothers sing, “Let It Be Me.”


I love being wrong; it makes no sense, which proves that I am out of my mind and therefore not in my head. (I am inventing theorems as I go along.) People that make sense are up to no good. The Talking Heads made a movie called Stop Making Sense. I may make Look Who’s Talking III, about how no one has it right. The love of being wrong should be taught in every womb before the fetus even emerges. That way, we could start our lives with one big cleansing apology. Our parents would forgive us. Our mothers for giving them stretch marks; our fathers for depleting their bank accounts.


I just have one more thing to say. Being wrong is the new right.


Vicki Woodyard, [/i][/size][/color]