Clouds are the most temporary thing there is. And, folks, this is nothin' but a whole world of temporary things. Grandmothers, kittens, causes, tricycles...all gonna die. All gonna melt away like chocolate chips between Yahweh's lips. In the meantime, though, what is there? Experience. That's it, that's all. And what do you really truly know at the end of each day? Only what you've experienced. Everything else is a goddamn rumor. Please, raise your fist and/or champagne with me tonight & toast that noble little underdog who is in fact running the whole show: Mr. Experience. He's a good guy. He's gonna shake up your whole world. He's gonna eff up your homeostasis like the vandal that stole the all handles. He's your avatar. He's your Christ. He might be a she. And she speaks in clouds, not parables. Cuts of cloud.