Swing on the spiral. Or don't. I will medicate the tomato hives and whisper cacophonous and furious to the holy polarity under the angel's rainbow and above the spider's drainpipe and if you think it's bad now wait until you really need a damn miracle and God's silence proves he's there right there in the biochemical sparks of the frontal lobes. Like a candleglow on the surface of the sun.
Read all of Bob's post, All Along the Godtower.