Meditation, bean sprouts, flute music or What went wrong, Keith?

And how can it be that we think it is healthy to eat like birds in winter? I asked these and other questions after turning down countless requests and I am sure it is because of his management, my inner Keith, who came along with Jim, and I saw Timothy and Jerry waiting in the Cadillac on the inner Reeperbahn and also a whole lot of excitingly wonderful Instagram girls. 

It seems, despite the question

Hope

to pass.

I serve us CBD brownies and a slightly spiced-up Bobo cocoa, which could almost be a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize because of all the fair trade. Keith leans back happily as always on the old cowhide couch, thirty years ago a few Indian cows died for this, and he's also a wimp, because he quickly takes his hands off the cup that is still hot to the left. 


How did it come to this point where we are no longer allowed to casually put our hand on a woman's thigh?


Or a man of course, I think it could also be because it wasn't always just our hands, Michael. I mean, show me...


He takes my hands in his,

it is a very tender gesture.

Yours are more of an artist's hands, you old scribbler, yes, I have been plucking my strings for so long, I have steel fingers,

I am a fucking god. 


But you know what I mean, the two or three thousand interesting men in this world try hard, but they can't mate with all of them. That's the basic problem.


But the question, Keith, is more political and social in nature, even if you can of course break it down that far; in Austria this problem is even more vacant. I mean, of the 2,000 to 3,000 there are at best forty here. 

My question was just a polemical follow-up question. I mean, the planet was really on the right track around 1968. And originally the stoners discovered the grain-eating, but what was not understood is that without Mary Jane the stuff tastes rather poor. And really belongs in the oven.

YOU'VE PROBABLY TRIED BAKED MUESLI. AND DON'T FORGET THE BREAD MAKERS. 
DO YOU ACTUALLY REALIZE THAT WE'RE COMPLETELY RIDING A FUNNY WAY HERE AND ACTUALLY PUBLISHING IT IN A BLOG THAT PROFESSES ALL OF THIS AND MORE?


Mmmh, Sure, Pope, I think to myself and I must say his fingers are really hard as steel. Hard as steel. Oh yes.

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