As luck would have it and despite the general clamor to the contrary, I am now and will be forever, immortal. Yes, I more than anyone, understand on a molecular level the audacity of this statement if uttered in the arena of public opinion. Be that as it may, it’s true. Come to think of it, I have said this before; been a while though. Since I am, for the moment, the only immortal I am aware of and obviously again with more time on my hands than you can shake a stick at, I have decided to teach to the multitudes that thirst for a more vibrant and fulfilling life. I will again undoubtedly amass a group of like minded followers in this new endeavor who will individually gain instant perspectives concerning other’s personal and social values and who will in time dramatically misrepresent this same information to satisfy their own self satisfying agendas. Many will write distorted recollections in letters and memoirs to family members and friends of what they have each gleamed from my impromptu talks and unlikely travels. Who knows it might even become a book that millions will use someday as a mallet to beat their foes into submission during public and private forums. At some point, I will tire of the circus that surrounds my every action, my every step. I will need a long and very distance, calm oriented vacation, alone. The constant bickering over who will guide the ship in my absence really feels like a large wooden splinter wedged deeply in my eye. I have quickly tired of seeds, pearls, livestock, talents and any other definitive reference to when I will return from said vacation. My loyal followers say they love me, but alas so did Mary Ann Pickle in the back of her Father’s tent as she easily crushed my hand , breaking it in three places while locked in place between thighs of steel. Her Dad spoke to my Dad, you know the deal. Between the denials and the tears of those hanging on my every word, day and night, I quickly realize a smooth exit is easier said than done. I need sometime that appears completely final. Staging my death would be; Time goes by and not only am I immortalized by gazillions, but by golly I am something of a celebrity. Just look around at all the buildings. Amazing how those who inscribed all those written and oral experiences of my immortal adventures failed to include those daily eruptions of facial acne, frequent flatulence, lengthy bouts of scurvy, ungodly body odor, nasty and unpredictable temper, lowly social status, multiple sexual indiscretions and finally my untimely and apparently violent departure without return to vanish from the face of recorded history. No, these same purveyors of propaganda have me waking the dead, performing parlor tricks and never enjoying the flesh of a woman once. Granted, I am immortal, remember, but I am still human. Go figure that one out and get back to me please. As a discerning reader, I will assume you know the rest of the story. So, what is my point? I do not have one; suffice to say that maybe someone might really want to explain in very simple, easy to understand terms, why someone like me needs to be worshipped by you in the first place. Why does the focus need to be on me and not on you? Just a suggestion, since many folks desire someone to lead them through life by the hand, take responsibility for your own actions, words and thoughts. If you don’t know what to do, learn. If you are down, get up. Do not depend on others to do anything you can’t do yourself. Lastly, don’t blame me for your inability to do the above mentioned suggestions. I am appearing on Web Forums from time to time now. Before I start charging a fee, write and tell me your woes. Who knows, maybe I will surprise you.