If one is to consider that the older a living entity is, the more spirit it has acquired by soaking up the cosmic background radiation of the universe itself, one has to acknowledge that trees are entities with rights. Bamboo, not so much, being that it has such a short-lived lifespan (at least, when humans and polar bears — wait, no, pandas — are involved) and cannot soak up much spirit from the universe at all if we summarily cut them down once they reach an adequate height. This only takes months, might I add.
Trees, on the other hand, live for hundreds of years if left be. Bamboo doesn’t live that long, even when left to its own devices. Each cane or stalk or whatever you call it only lives for a maximum of fifteen years. Some trees can live for thousands of years if the conditions are right, according to Lord God.
He won’t let me die, you see. God. I try and keep trying. He just won’t let me go. In fact, he told me my parents tried to murder me repeatedly before I was even a year old and if I do regressive therapy this will come to light and they can go to jail for the rest of my life, owing me all their monies. I don’t know if he’s right or not, but I didn’t even mean to talk about that.
I mean to save the fucking trees. I love trees. I absolutely love life in general, except my own of course. And now, all the rest of humanity. I was actually gearing up to make some cookies of a fashion, or maybe a cake, and I was suddenly inspired by Mr. Morra (https://lawrencemorra.com/) to write about tree murderers. I think they should all be put to death.
Since God won’t leave me alone, I’ve been dictating a long list of crimes people should die for. In fact, I hope he kills me for failing to buy recycled content toilet paper, although that hasn’t happened in ages because my parents literally have an entire tree sitting in the bathroom, waiting to be used.
Yeah, I live with the people who tried to kill me. It doesn’t make any sense until you take into account that I nearly died, but God won’t let me die! He said there are dead people in the walls of Israel — my house, you ninnies — and that it’ll be the first AirBnB (or just straight up BnB) in a former serial killer’s home. That all the people who like spooky stuff will come to me and pay me just to maybe experience a ghost. They’d certainly be in the right place.
According to God, I have over 1,000 ghosts haunting me, specifically. They are collecting like fruit flies in vinegar. They want to be around me because I heal them. I’m a healer. In fact, I thought I was a shaman but God told me calling myself that will get me killed. SO HERE IT IS: I’M A MOTHERFUCKING SHAMAN. GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY. KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!
Also Erie, PA’s very own Jack the Ripper lived in my house in the 1800s and killed a bunch of run-away slaves and put them under the dirt of the coal room and in my bathroom walls. I have yet to find evidence of it, but I’m not keep on digging in the dirt of the coal room or breaking into the wall by myself… the house is made of metal sheets covered in plaster — also known as Sheetrock — and I don’t think I have the strength to get through that right now.
I also don’t care, even though God tells me that once I beautify this house, it’ll be a historical landmark of some sort or some BS like that. I told him if he thinks I’m going to have a picture of some dude that killed black ladies on my walls, he better think again. I’d rather have the black ladies on the walls. But, then again, I’d rather not pimp them out to awkward admirers of death and destruction. (What is wrong with us as a species, anyway? What is wrong with me?)
He said, oh, we’re just going to nab you some SSI darling, and I said to hell you will! I never take, I always give. It’s my biggest rule to live by. It’s the only rule worth living by, if you only want one rule to follow. I say you’re stupid if you can only follow one rule. The second rule is DO NO HARM. Or maybe they’re tied for #1. You’ll notice I have a few other rules that tie for #1, honestly.
Anyway, why are we mass murdering trees? Here’s what Mr. Morra is on about. (<– Click the link.) I think it’s heinous and people who kill trees should just die. In fact, God, can we start with me please? I killed a tree because it was underneath a power line. I killed it dead as a door nail. I chopped it down with an axe, too. A BLUNT AXE. I am a barbarian and I deserve to die. Please take me now. I do not deserve to live. I have killed countless ants, a badger, wasps, rodents, and so much more. I am a serial killer for killing these beings. Not to mention I watched a bird die of a broken wing on my patio once. I feel terrible for not being able to end its suffering sooner for fear of catching some disease from it.
It’s true I apologized to everything I’ve killed but I don’t think that excuses me from the act of hatred. I didn’t mean to hate any of these things and I’m sorry I’ve done it. I’d much rather help things live, especially things that aren’t grass. Why do we love grass so much? It’s such a useless plant, all we do is cut it and waste gas doing it. It’s not even a natural thing to have around, either, it’s a perversion of nature itself to have a grass lawn.
I hope my seed bombs arrive soon. I want a profusion of wildflowers around this stupid house to feed my bees. They’re dying out and it’s a small, small thing I can do for my little fuzzy yellow and black friends. I fear the collapse of bees will be the collapse of humankind, so I’ll do my part to keep them around. Besides, it means using less resources because I don’t have to mow anymore. Well, I do between the sidewalk and the road, but that’s a lot less than what has to be mown now.
My heart goes out to Mr. Morra and his community. I’m very sad to read about how his area is being demolished and stolen from him and his neighbors. I will pray for them now and I hope you’ll do the same.