From the Archives of the silence of the Q v.2

The bananaman is speaking.

My friends, I doubt that I'll be online and with the ability to transmit at all levels when I return from the wilds of the west, but regardless of that, I write and transmit with the best of thoughts and intentions out there, like a stone into a pool, like a pool ball pushed by a Q, I can sense that the world is shaped by me being here – yet like a silent tree that falls in the woods, I understand that I do not yet exist until rabbits make a home under my trunk.

But the last thing I want is to unload any baggage on you, and just claim that it was a thought that came by on a carosel.

At least I don't have to stab anybody or beat my wife, for that matter. I do, however really like clambakes.

There, trunk unjunked. Which is a good thing too, I'm off to the iowld blue yonder tomorrow. Exciting stuff, no?

So, my friends and neighbors, I am heading out and off for a couple of days.

Yesterday, I had to give reality the money I borrowed from it, plus interest – it's not like reality is a bad guy, he's been known to break a few kneecaps here and there, and must be one of the greatest serial killers ever apprehended, for the most part he enjoys watching you struggle and roots you on.

I asked him one Sunday morning over brunch why he let us go through our daily motions if the end was always the same; wouldn't it be easier to set up a machine or a collection system that makes it so the soccer game we call life is a bit more regulated, and less head-butty.

"I'm not a puppeteer, you don't have a hand up your bum unless you're into that kind of thing. You all get to make your own system, and I'm like the busboy who cleans and sets the tables after and before you eat. Besides, I like soccer games where people headbutt each other."

He then conseeded that in the restaurant analogy he made that he was also the food, the movements of the fork, the soup – the soup bowl, the fly in the soup (with a divulgeance into time and the quantum membrane theory) and everything within the restaurant.

So, ok, I say, if you're here, then this is the only reality, everything in this restaurant is all that exists in this moment?

Not nescesarliy. All that is within this restaurant, and all that is connected to it, and then all that is connected to that is all that exists – which weaves a web the whole universe wide actually.

Ah ha! So you admit that this physical universe is the only reality?

Hardly. We are connected to other universes through the knowledge that they exist. that meant that our universes are tied together, however faintly – by little thought strings, which means
this soupy fly is connected to superman of earth 48 and the kyrpotinite bullet that lex luthor is using to kill him.

Oh, I said dejectedly. So…. Why are you here sipping coffee while waiting for pancakes? If you're the only reality, shouldn't you have better things to put your conciousness on than this place and time?

Haha! He chortled madly. That's the thing! Even though I'm everywhere – there so many different variations that I don't know how many facets I have (in fact, he did know – but simple mathamatics couldnet handle it (take a google to the googleth power then understand that the value raises expodentially through an infinite time loop – then multiply it by the colors of the visible deltawave color spectrum that at the end of ALL time and space equals 1) as a matter of fact, there's eight of me here between the two of us alone!

Eh? I said. Then he told me. I woke up next morning with a spitting headache – I think someone had gotten the straitjacket a bit too tight, but he was there to loosen it. I just wish he'd take off the silly batman cowel.

Waffles