The Old Man Meets the Amoeba

Dear Reader(s),

Nothing of note happened today. This is unfortunate for you and me both, but dutiful blogger that I am, rather than leave you with my thoughts about how fitting in is the new standing out or what I would do if I was Hillary's campaign manager, I have opted to start a fiction serial, featuring The Old Man. His name is Clive, but that is irrelevant. He will have exciting adventures when I do not. I hope you enjoy his debut.

Thank you for your continued indulgence,
Julia
The Old Man was lying face up in his front yard at around two in the morning, stroking his long white beard and contemplating things of great import. His inner discourse touched first on asparagus and how It looks like trees you would find on a little tiny planet inhabited by people who wear helmets, even at breakfast. He wondered how people like that could have evolved, which made him think about how humans evolved.

Humans evolved from monkeys who evolved from large rodents who evolved from small rodents who evolved from Archaeopteryx who evolved from dinosaurs who evolved from an amoeba. It's wonderful how much information scientists come up with these days. Would an amoeba be a friendly sort of person or not? The Old Man's inquiring mind asked him, Because the answer to this question clearly defines the nature of God. If people came from God, and people also came from an amoeba, then if the amoeba was vengeful, so must God have been, before his untimely death in 1882. Likewise, if the amoeba was kind and loving, so must God have been.

The Old Man saw immediately that the answer to one of life's persistent questions was almost in his grasp. He felt like Guy Noir. Why had no one thought to go about it like this before? He ran into his house and came back out with his telescope to pray. He put his eye to the eye-bit and his hands together. He said
"Great amoeba, I pray that ye may reveal thine self unto me, that I may look upon that what spawned me and know the nature of God."

Through the telescope, The Old Man spotted a tiny, roundish, hairy thing that wriggled closer until he thought he could make out its nucleus.
"What can I do for you, my fine fellow?" It inquired in the voice of a British street urchin.
"Which fork do you start with first?" responded The Old Man.
"Usually the salad fork, but a good rule of thumb is to always start with the outermost silverware first and work your way in."

The Old Man had learned all that he needed to, so he lay back down in the grass and sighed deeply. God was helpful and knew lots of things, he thought to himself, Just not the useful sort of things, and that's probably what did him in. Anyway, it was good to know.