August 28, 2004
Homunculi
I believe, due, unfortunately, to a youth wasted to hellish experiments with pharmacological substances, that we are all born with a homunculus. Which I define, in my personal dictionary, as a twin unborn. A calcified alter-ego residing in one's breast. Usually near the heart. Sometimes the scrotum, however.
I am not alone here. There is great wisdom espoused on homunculi by learned scientists, I'm told. I don't care about that too much, though, because I know I have one.
The great question is: is he a good homunculus, or a bad one? The answer to that question lies in ourselves, of course. For the good person will have a bad alter-ego, and the baddun a good. Naturally.
A tiny twin. That does not play Jiminy Cricket on you, but, instead, asks you to play Jiminy on yourself.
A bizarre concept, you may say.
I say Mr. Kerry: reconcile your past.