Don't Step on my Blue Suede Shoes

"Hey! Don't step on my phylogeny!"

"Why? If I step on yours, I'm only stepping on mine as well."

"That's only down to a certain branch, bastard. From there on it's me
you're killing."

"Yes, but you are evolutionarily inferior. You're a mutant who wasn't
intended to make it. You need weeded out."

"All right, then, what if I step on your phylogeny, bastard?"

"Don't do that to yourself! You know the cards."

"Yeah? Like if I die from it, it'll take you with me?"

"Yeah. Please don't."

"Listen to you beg. I think that you're the evolutionary degenerate,
not me. Don't you believe in reincarnation?"

"Oh no. Not that. Please?"

"Then I challenge you to a duel. Let's see who can step on our mutual
phylogeny, first, and see just who survives it, from doing their
homework and diversifying enough so that it won't make any difference!
Ready?"

"Please... I won't step on your phylogeny if you don't step on mine! Is
it a deal?"

"If you buy me twenty twinkies."

"I'll buy you fourty."

"It's a deal. By the way, how is your family doing?"

"You should know. I thought we shared that branch, the last one to the
trunk. Remember?"

"Yeah, but I don't like going caving with flashlights. Why don't you
just tell me. You know. The reason why people talk and hear with their
tongues and ears."

"You mean,... , you really don't know?"

"Somewhat. No details."

The oracle of the book, "Survive the Savage Sea," persevered on, as the
father had faith in the currents and the trades, to put his overcrowed
skiff in eyesight of his flares, to sailors and captains in the shipping
lanes, as the old days of the trucker helping the stranded motorist,
ends the last chapter in the acceleration of world consciousness,
through the advent of technological saturation.

	#1
Chameleon Image	Don't Step on my Blue Suede Shoes "Hey! Don't step on my phylogeny!" "Why? If I step on yours, I'm only stepping on mine as well." "That's only down to a certain branch, bastard. From there on it's me you're killing." "Yes, but you are evolutionarily inferior. You're a mutant who wasn't intended to make it. You need weeded out." "All right, then, what if I step on your phylogeny, bastard?" "Don't do that to yourself! You know the cards." "Yeah? Like if I die from it, it'll take you with me?" "Yeah. Please don't." "Listen to you beg. I think that you're the evolutionary degenerate, not me. Don't you believe in reincarnation?" "Oh no. Not that. Please?" "Then I challenge you to a duel. Let's see who can step on our mutual phylogeny, first, and see just who survives it, from doing their homework and diversifying enough so that it won't make any difference! Ready?" "Please... I won't step on your phylogeny if you don't step on mine! Is it a deal?" "If you buy me twenty twinkies." "I'll buy you fourty." "It's a deal. By the way, how is your family doing?" "You should know. I thought we shared that branch, the last one to the trunk. Remember?" "Yeah, but I don't like going caving with flashlights. Why don't you just tell me. You know. The reason why people talk and hear with their tongues and ears." "You mean,... , you really don't know?" "Somewhat. No details." The oracle of the book, "Survive the Savage Sea," persevered on, as the father had faith in the currents and the trades, to put his overcrowed skiff in eyesight of his flares, to sailors and captains in the shipping lanes, as the old days of the trucker helping the stranded motorist, ends the last chapter in the acceleration of world consciousness, through the advent of technological saturation.