TABBY CAT Gamespace

Bet the Farm

This past week I achieved my Tabby Yogic Milestone for the week. It was to re-introduce Urdhva Padamasana to my Primary Series. As below:

Every week I gotta have a TYM. Even though it's pointless to have one. But everything is pointless to begin with, so... why not have a TYM? Eh? For fellowship!

Now in this coming week things are going to get nastier. We're going to turn up the heat a little. I'm going to try to re-introduce (I say re-introduce when discussing poses I could do more or less OK as of last summer when I quit) one of your more problematic poses, Gabha Pindasana. As below:

I call this one a nasty boy because it has some serious overhead. Most people (me for one anyway) need to spray their legs with a water atomizer before attempting this! Isn't that awful? But otherwise you can't really get your arms through your legs (your legs are in full Lotus when you start). It's really quite wicked.

We'll see what happens on that, and of course might as well throw in the immediately following pose which is a somewhat similar flavor. That'd be Rooster, as below:

And that'll be all she wrote, for this week. If I even get that far, who the hell knows?

See what a simpleton I am? Notice how I always talk about yoga in this superficial, external, performance-oriented way. I never blab on about Patanjali or Eight Limbs or anything. Because I don't really buy all that stuff. Morals-wise all you need is "Don't hurt anybody". And spiritually, I go with David Carse who says everything's an illusion in the first place, so all this talk about spiritual progress is just hogwash. But very nice and venerable hogwash! I do respect the various Founders and Great Masters and Gurus and such of the art. But I'm just too shallow to really blend into their world. I figure as long as I keep "just practicing" my admission ticket is still good. My signal that the Ashtanga world really can't take me any more will be if/when Tracy ever kicks me out of her morning Mysore session!

Actually though, yoga should be done only by spiritual retards like me! This yogic soul corrective isn't meant for those who are already so high-minded and resonant with all the Yama's and whatnot. If you are already imbued with all that, in spirit if not the letter of it, then you good to go man! Bye bye! Don't let the door hit your butt on the way out. You don't need this stuff in the first place.

For is it not written:

But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them,

They that be whole need not a physician,

but they that are sick.

- Matthew 9:12

Advice: Catalog Shopping

Dear Tabby,

Love your stuff Tab, I try to catch your column, with all those nutty problems from all your weirdo readers, every day. In fact lately you've got me thinking about my own future. I'm happy enough with my current embodiment as a Dilithium Worm in the Zeta Reticulan star system. But nothing lasts forever eh? The average lifespan of we DW's is only ten lightyears or so. So looking ahead to my next serving as the Samsaric Lazy Susan swings around, I've been skimming through the REI catalog (Reincarnational Entity Inventory) and pondering my next selection. The pullout on Earth Plane Embodiments kind of caught my eye, because it seems there's a real diverse selection down there. Up here in ZR, you can have any incarnation you want, as long as it's Dilithium Worm (as the old joke up here goes, haha). But anyway, I was really getting off on all the choice points the Earth Plane catalog offers, but then I began to get a little anxious, like - what should I be? A bird? Insect? Lizard? Though actually, I don't even know whether I should jump into the Animal or Vegetable Kingdom to begin with. And then there's the whole human thing going on down there, what's up with that anyway? It's getting to the point of costing me sleep at night. I think this is what somebody calls the overchoice phenomenon. So I've decided to leave it all in your paws, Tab. I'll go with your call!

What should I be, next go-round?

- All Ears

Dear Ears,

Thanks for writing, it's great to hear from readers in some of the farther-flung syndications. By the way, the name is 'Tabby'. Your letter is interesting but you left out a  key point that I'd really need to know to give you my best advice, namely what is your reincarnational goal? If I don't know what you hope to accomplish with your next soul transmigration, it's hard to zero in on a good body choice for you. If you are really serious and have the bucks, please contact my admin person to schedule a Customized Embodiment Consultation session. Yeah sure, it costs but ask yourself - aren't I worth it? Anyway, for now, let me give you my general advice on Earth Plane physicalization: Don't do it! Run for the fucking hills!!  Ahahahaha! Just kidding, just kidding. Seriously now, let's step back for a minute and summarize, what is so great, if anything, about Earth Plane incarnation, and then, given that, what embodiment is most geared to most fully optimize those particular experiences? Basically, the only cool things in Earth Plane existence can be pretty much boiled down to your basic "Three F's" list: Feeding, Fighting, and er... Frolicking. Capiche? Now I admit, some of these high tone fancy pants humans may try to tell you differently, talk about selfless service, art appreciation, laughter and love and all that. But take it from me, all that stuff is just pissing into the wind. So now that's settled, what kind of incarnation is going to max out your Three F exposure and opportunities? Well, some call me biased, but personally, if I were in your shoes (haha), I'd go feline for sure. Your basic earth cat is pretty much 100% fully targeted onto the Three F's, so there you go. Now the one caveat I need to clue you, when you are choosing your feline model option from the catalog give "Tiger" a miss. Yeah I know that model looks the sharpest on the page when  you're safely up there in ZR, browsing and shopping mode, but you'll find if you get into that particular model you won't last long because the humans will simply shoot you toute suite and skin you raw in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Then they'll grind up your bones for aphrodisiac powder. You might not think that seems so bad (cause you don't actually have any bones, at the moment), but ... trust me on this. Write when you get settled in and tell me how you're doing - I care.

Cine

I was waaay early for my flight home from Remote Viewing intensive training last week. I was speeding mindlessly up Virgina Hwy 66 towards Dulles,  my world filled with nothing but the brutal black sheen of infinite asphalt spread under the semi-tropical sun, when my empty eyes were stabbed by a flash of towering megalithic roadside signage offering an appealing time-waster: latest big meta-pic The Dark Knight (Batman).

"So let it be done!", I hissed to myself, and slunk within - silently, almost catlike in quietude.

The Dark Knight - now on its way to becoming one of the top earning films of all time. They've totally got the formula right at last, after nearly a century of research. Myabe Samuel Johnson was right when he said "God will not have man know what will sell" but in fact Hollywood is now very close to a scientific formulation. You need:

1. Heroes
2. Villains
3. Exotic motor vehicles
4. Explosions
5. Major supporting actor tragically dead under mysterious circumstances

That's all there is to it! But don't think I'm gutting the soul of creativity out from the movie biz. No, there's still plenty room for creative inspiration and high art, because only the first three items in the list above are mandatory - the rest are negotiable, subject solely to the artistic vision and aesthetic discretion of the director and backers.

It's interesting to me how ideological American movies now are. Always have been to some extent, but now I feel the CIA has basically moved right onto the studio lots, with their agents saving hotel fees by just bunking on the casting couches. Make no mistake TDK is a work of fully controlled Neocon Realist ideology:

"Some men just want to watch the world burn"

There you have it. Osama Bin Joker. But that's no biggie. It's expected. The more interesting question about this movie is how many hundreds of millions dollars of its final box office take will be directly attributable to one of the stars dying off while still so young and beautiful... so promising. Death, and I mean real death, snuff as it were, is always the best box office. That's why 9/11 has done such good gate.

"Good career move"
- a cynical poet, on being informed of Sylvia Plath's suicide

Not that Heath actually killed himself. That would have been a nice-to-have thing for the studio, but he did fine as it is.

The movie itself is fairly stupid. Yes, the Joker is the most interesting character, but is he really all that  interesting? Is this the best we can do? But it's alright. There's no point in criticizing it. After all, it's only a comic book.

The fight scenes were choreographed according to the Keysi Fight Method. Key point: protect your head with your defensive and offensive elbows. Makes sense.

Advice: Identity Crisis

Dear Tabby,

Help me out here, brah! Throw me a line. I'm having trouble telling the difference between you vs your owner! Which is which? I mean sometimes it seems like you are a semi-fictionalized character, a totally psychotic felinus domesticus who pontificates about the Earth Plane "Time Space Illusion" from his ectoplasmic perch in the Astral world, while at other times this very same blog seems to be authored by a rather tedious earthbound human male who spends most of his time dabbling pointlessly in yoga and combat sports, when not ranting insanely about wingnut fuckwit conspiracy theories.. Will the real Tabster please stand up already?

- Whiplashed

Dear Whipped,

Hmmmm....interesting... VERY interesting! I think I can see what you're getting at here... you almost seem to be hinting that a process of "bleedthrough" or something may be taking place between my identity and that of my owner! ... What a fascinating thesis! So, would you call that  some kind of unconscious projection or disassociative identification or personality displacement, maybe? Like some kind of Jekyll and Hyde type of scenario?? Whoa, Cuz! A lot of implications in that can of worms! Why, this insight is almost Freudian in its subtlety, profundity, and overall brilliance! Listen bro - with this, if you don't deserve a Nobel Prize in Armchair Psychology, why, I don't know who the hell does!

Ahahahaha! Gotcha! Had you going there for a moment didn't I? Look, the truth is very simple. There's only one author of this blog - me! Tabby Cat, A.A.E. (Astral Animal Extraordinaire). All the rumors out there are totally false, every single one, I deny everything! I stand alone as the sole auteur of all blog content.

[NOTE: The single exception to the above is the recent TABBYCAT Gamespace blog post: Mobbed Up. This particular post was authored by my human owner, not by me. I hereby disclaim all responsibility for this seditious, inexcusably irresponsible post, which, in the paranoid suspicions it voices concerning the duly constituted Astral Governing Authorities and Reincarnation Guidance, Planning, and Steering Committees essentially commits itself to an anti-authoritarian analysis of highly dubious legality. The post amounts to an illegitimate call for the violent overthrow of the duly constituted Universal Karmic Kommand, and I disclaim all responsibility for it. And if the DGS (Department of Gloamland Security) sees fit to initiate an investigation into the origin of that post for possible violations of the recently passed BODHISATTVA Act (Bolstering Official Detection and Hardass Intervention on Seditious Astral Terrorism and Transmigrational Vigilance Accountability Act), I pledge to cooperate fully with all consequent inquiries and prosecutions.]

The Cat on the Mat Comes Back

I did it. It's been a year off, but today was my Official Tabbycat Yogic Reentry day. Went to the new "AYS veterans" (or refugees?) Mysore session, presided over by Tracy. What a great session I had! Even though few things I could formerly accomplish with not much problem (such as Mari D, Garbha pidasana, and one or two others *smirk*) have temporarily fallen by the wayside (due to physical issues and a year's overcoat of rust), overall this morning's session was maybe the best, the deepest, the most mature if I could say that, I've ever done. And I'll reel those nasty guys above back in, and land them on the dock again, all in due course of time.

Why so great? Definitely not the facility. I mean its super nice of them to let us AYS refugees have some space, but nobody would disagree that physically, the studio there just doesn't compare to the lofty, airy, spacious and gracious AYS from where you could see across the entire Cascade mountain range of a bright clear early summer morning like today. Not to mention the cool pics of Ganesha and Hanuman all over the place. And other amenities. Nope, sic transit gloria, how are the mighty fallen, we are huddled into a smallish back room.

But that's good enough because the of the key factor we do have: Tracy. The teacher. She is such a total Yoga Goddess! This morning, with just a quiet word here and there, a touch, a gesture or smile she corrected dozens of my poses and taught me a bunch of key refinements - accomplished so smoothly you'd hardly know she was there. I was being too forceful, in breathing and posing. A bit crude I think, in retrospect. She said "[Tabby], remember - ahimsa in word, thought, deed". She was saying, you know, ahimsa even toward yourself, that was her idea at that moment. She was right. I love the ahimsa thing... I even mention it on the home page of my AlasBabylon Yahoo group. But I had forgotten it for a long time. She smoothed and gentled out my practice so it went way deeper.

All the Ashtanga teachers in the line the I've been exposed to in my narrow, extremely parochial slant on yoga (Ashtanga Primary Series only, taken in two locations only - Seattle AYS and Tokyo Ogikubo) have been great. David was very inspirational with his technical performance virtuosity and metaphysically spacy personality, Satya gave me many key technical advances in posture mechanics, Ken is the ultimate drill sargent who never lets you say die, pure fire, while Basia is another Yoga goddess type with absolutely incomparable technical adjustments.

But of them all, I love Tracy the best. She was my first Yoga teacher from Day 1 when I didn't even know what a Surya Namaskar is. She read us poetry, taught us the opening chant, just made it seem so fun and meaningful, a spark of something shining up an otherwise lackluster world. It's kind of funny, thinking back - after she'd taught our little intro group the Suryas A and B, I somehow thought that was all of Ashtanga yoga, that those two exercises were the system! They seemed challenging enough to me, at the time. So I was ready for the Intro class to begin winding down after we'd covered those. Oooops! That's what an ignoramus I was.

But anyway, for me, Tracy brings a taste to the practice that nobody else ever did. Although I know that actually nothing means anything, everything will end as mere dirt in the wind, still I have to love those very rare spirits whose golden touch can make me feel otherwise, if only for a moment.

Downward Facing Cat

Tomorrow I'll take my re-tooled Ashtanga Primary Series into the shop (Tracy) for a checkup. I've just barely got something passable stitched together with paper clips and duct tape after the one year layoff. But it's gotta go back on the road sooner or later, and tomorrow's the day. I may report Tracy's prognosis on it here in this gamespace. Or not. Doesn't matter. 

I never had much use for Buddhism. Though I studied it a lot, even learned Tibetan language at Harvard for one intensive year, in the end it leaves me cold, just like all the other big phony organized religions (except I do have a bit of a soft spot for Jainism, since they are super kindly towards animals). The only supernatural entity that interests me is Shiva Nataraj - Lord of the Dance. However, there are two cool artistic works that have arisen from, or are related to, Buddhism.

Number One, the novel Siddhartha by Hesse. Strictly speaking not part of the Buddhist religion in any way, but (supposed) historical Buddha Gautama features as a character and the whole things touches on Buddhist themes.

Number Two, the 8-volume manga graphic novel of the historical (semi-fictionalized) life of Gautama by Osamu Tezuka. That is really magnificent work (and as a bonus features lots of commentary on human-animal relations).

What somebody needs to do, and this would be a great Hollywood project that could make a ton of money not to mention acclaim and prestige etc. is to make the ultimate animated feature film of Siddhartha. I've mentioned this before in Tabby Ashtanga blog, but no action has been taken. It's true there's a fairly recent (2004) Thai animated version of the historical legend of the Buddha. But that, graphically charming though it is, remains a parable or catechism for religious indoctrination of children. Just like all the Jesus movies out there.

Whereas if somebody were to do real justice to the Hesse novel, it would be wild, exciting, mysterious, bizarre, awesome. Not offer any answers, just immerse you in the mystery and weirdness.

And to do it justice, the indispensable element would be the soundtrack. Just as important as the narrative content, we'd need to get rights to the latest great world-music trancified Hindu kirtan chants. I refer of course to stuff by Jai Uttal, Krishna Das, Donna De Lory, and Deva Premal. Those extended psychedelic chant tracks would set the atmospherics which the graphics would only enhance.

So the sequence would go something like this:

Opening scene: The proud, beautiful Brahman youth S, bathing at sunrise at the river by the boats, then walking back to his home. He passes forest scenes with animals visible through the leafy shadows. And town scenes where blacksmiths and other busy shops clank with pre-industrial production noise, that sometimes amost totally obscures the music track but always under the "red dust" of this world, the beat of the music track would still be barely discernible and would always re-emerge strongly as S passes quietly by each tableau, walking his way. The sound track for this opening "walk" scene would be Jai Uttal's Maha Deva chant (about 10 minutes).

Then there's something good from Deva Premal, title escapes me at the moment, that would exactly suit as the soundtrack for the Samana phase, where S abuses and tortures himself with physical austerities in the forest for years. We could do some great dark work on that phase.

Then we need a good sound line for S's meeting with the actual Buddha. Gotta think about that one.

Another soundtracked scene would be when S has done with his Sannyassin phase, no longer a Samana, and has met and rejected the Buddha, and has given up on all the spiritual search, and comes to town and first sees the half-naked sexy girl drawing water, who places one foot on the other while staring at him, but he passes her by and sees the beautiful courtesan Kamala, in her sedan chair and their eyes meet. The soundtrack for this extended sequence would be Donna DeLory's Om Nama Shivaya - sung with her passionate female voice (Madonna's main backup vocalist in live concerts) and its hot rhythmic beat. A hymn to Shiva, the wild god of power and ecstasy.

Then the dramatic and spiritual climax to the movie would be the scene where S has been through absolutely everything and lost it all, he's just a bum of a ferryboat oarsman, and he gazes in the water and suddenly understand Non-dual awakening. The river immerses him and he becomes the river (rivers are also symbolized in the wild tangled hippie hair of Shiva Nataraj). And the soundtrack for this extended segment must obviously be Jai Uttal's ultimate masterpiece, Nataraj.

Then something from Deva Premal for the closing credits.

If the animation were really super highest quality, with lots of mysterious, dark, psychedelic yet surrealistically credible hyper-real imagery and colors, this could be the most powerful animation movie ever made - even though there really isn't any action in the story at all. No car chases, and not even one single explosion.

I figure we're talking 20 million USD for overall budget, including animation, soundtrack rights, novel rights (or rights to the English translation if the original German has gone public domain already), world class voice talent, and so on. Naturally I would have to retain full creative control over the entire project.

My brother is in the business, hobnobs with all kinds of industry players, big wheels, movers, shakers. I need to put him onto this. If only I could get him to return my calls and emails (Hollywood is a cold town, ahaha).

Do I look like a complete moron?

Wait, don't answer that. But sometimes I think the mil.gov High Command is doing some kind of covert intelligence (in the old sense of just plain smarts) testing on the USA population. They must be laughing their asses off as they egg each other on:

Hey man, get this get this, let's tell them that the 2001 anthrax thing was done by one single lone wolf  homicidal nutcase of a scientist - who then suicides himself!

Ahahaha! Stop it, just stop it man, you're killing me. Look they may be total idiots but they ain't that dumb.

No seriously, I got a hundred bucks here says they'll eat hook line and sinker.

You're on bro! We'll run it and have some fun with it.

You'll see, you're not gonna be into me for just a hundred bucks man, yer gonna owe me a fucking academy award!

So now we get FOX news and others saying things like how it's still a mystery why they "cannot weed out people like Ivins who work with deadly toxins while privately battling dark psychological problems." Notice how they at first sprinkled the idea that Jane Duley was Ivins' psychiatrist, and now a couple of days later, when it's clear that she is in no way a psychiatrist (which is an MD degree) - she's just a sort of social worker, they simply stay silent.

They have said that he thought the anthrax could get all the way through to his targets (high officials instead of the lowly postal workers who actually died) because he didn't understand that the highly weaponized anthrax powder can easily pierce the envelopes. Oh he didn't understand that? Is that right? Yet Ivins somehow managed to (supposedly) send out all those letters, working entirely alone, without endangering himself in any way. What a stupid farce. Then a supposedly homicidal maniac, under tight supervision in a mental ward, surveilled, tailed, and suspected by the FBI of the crime of the century, a man diagnosed as a potential serial killer psychopath, manages to slip enough drugs from somewhere to suicide himself - right there in the hospital! 

And notice how, after Colin Powell and many other officials slanted the anthrax thing as Al Qaeda and/or Saddam, in fact, even if the stupid current FBI story were true (it isn't), it actually was an "inside job" in a sense - you don't hear a single word about that from any respectable source. Down the Memory Hole!

Ahahaha! What jokers these boys are.

At this point the Big Boys of the Inner Party are merely having some fun with us. They're just doing a little IQ probing on the population.

Mobbed up

We are here to awaken from the dream of our separation
- bumper sticker

I saw the above quote on a bumper sticker today. It's alright as far as it goes. Who could argue? One sees a BS (Bumper Sticker) like that and one says to oneself: "Cool ... far out ... if that's not deep I'd like to know what is".

 But wait a sec, hold yer damn horses a minute. Isn't there a logical issue with this? I mean, if the only reason for us being "here" (Earth Plane Time-Space Illusion, I assume), in an apparently undesirably "separated" condition, is for us to realize we are not actually, or need not be, separated, then what's the point? In that case, this is a very screwed up school. It's as if a doctor first deliberately injects you with syphilis so that he can then sell you the cure or antidote.

Point being, if we weren't separated in the first place, when we were up on our etheric clouds or wherever, before we jumped into physical, then the easy way to handle this "separation" problem is just don't jump down into Earth/TSI to begin with! Where did this problem of "the dream of separation" come from? Just by landing in the physical Earth meatspace in the first place.

Is it not written: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Do you know the formal definition of a protection racket (organized crime) ? It goes something like this: an extortion scheme wherein victims are forced by an organized crime organization to pay for "protection" from threats and dangers that are engendered by the criminal group itself.

So, bear with me now, this logic is going to hug the rails on some tight curves here -  if the ONLY place that "problems" such as separation, loneliness, greed, fear, pain, ego, etc. all that baaaaaaaaaaad stuff exists is the Earth/TSI in the first place, and if this is the only place it can be experienced, then your basic New Ager will tell you that's why we are here - because ONLY here can we experience those things and learn to overcome them. But but but...wait a fucking second, if all that nasty stuff is ONLY found here, then why bother to learn to overcome it in the first place? Just leave Earth/TSI alone and go on about your business.

It doesn't hold water. I smell a rat. There's a fly in the logical ointment here. 

Souls are being scammed! Somehow the whole operation reminds me of the dumbass old joke about Tiger Powder: a guy comes up to you and the following dialog ensues:

TP Salesman: "Hey here's something you really need, Tiger Powder, you just sprinkle this around and it keeps all kinds of nasty dangerous man-eating tigers away from you!"

You (sensibly): "There's not a tiger within a thousand miles of here!"

TP Salesman: "There, you see? It works!"

The Soul Command out there is somehow cooking up some kind of faked-up hothouse threat, and then forcing us to learn to overcome it by scamming us into ponying up our souls and whipping us liked rented mules into a karmic pack train of abuse - abuse that the Soul Command itself has artificially created to stoke the very fires it claims to be helping you extinguish.

Drive it or park it

 I've already written a lot about non-duality. Although authors and Satsang vendors love to blab on about it, the whole thing pretty much boils down to the following:

• There is nowhere to go
• There is nothing to do
• There is nobody to be

The interesting thing is that the petty, grasping, nutso everyday ego-mind (or Left Brain if you follow the superb performance art of Jill Bolte Taylor) will, when presented with this, actually pause for a moment to consider it. And generally it will actually agree with it, in principle, even though the cheesy little I-me-mine ego is the main target of the whole Non-dualist shock and awe insurgency. But see, the ego-mind wants to be thought intellectually respectable. It fancies itself a sophisticate. And it knows that appearing defensive is uncool. Therefore it will react: "Well yes. That's all true. I quite agree with that analysis. In fact I've known that all along." But then it will elbow the insight right off the pavement: "Now 'scuse me, I have serious business to attend to, places I need to be, people who need to see me, important stuff I need to get going on." And off it sails, totally business as usual. That's true genius, the real beauty of the system.

But the sad thing is, no matter how much the Non-dualists bleat to the contrary and try to paint the ego-mind as the villain of the piece, the 13th Fairy at the feast, the cheeseball little ego-mind actually is correct. It does have work to do, namely securing food, clothing, shelter, basic sanitation, and social approval for the physical body. So no matter how  many Satsang's you go to, in the predatory Earth system the physical body still rules the roost and always will. If you think otherwise you are fooling yourself.

I've been to a bunch of Satsang's, and Sarlo has posted up some of my notes on them. But here's a guy who's covered way more Satsang acreage than I ever did.

Half inch deep

One among the numberless hordes of Gamespace readers, someone I don't even know, wrote me to complain about my recent posts on yoga. Saying that I don't get it, that the point isn't physical performance and asana sensationalism - no, no, no, no, no! It's all about spiritual growth, progress toward the light, self understanding, soul shaping to qualify for a gold star from the Lords of Karma, taste their carrot rather than their stick, blabitty blah blah. I am claimed to be too much performance oriented. I am told to study the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali more seriously.

Well that's fine as far as it goes. But from my feline point of view, it's really rather shallow. A tad ... unagressive... wouldn't you say? Because we felines don't buy into the whole human hangup about spirituality and enlightenment and all such nonsense. That's all just air whistling past our ears. We don't buy this whole complicated game of eight-limbed soul straightening. To me, there is nobody here or there. Nobody exists. We are all just populating one another's dreams for no particular reason. It's all just lila, the endless pointless dance play of Shiva Nataraj. Given that, all you can reasonably ask is that it at least look good.

Now granted, I can't blame the humans for thinking something matters - they have been conditioned by the one harsh task mistress of the earth plane - physical pain - to believe so. They have obviously been driven insane since Day One in this vale of tears by their unrelenting experience of physical and emotional pain, so who can blame them for being such harebrained fanatics? Mad as hatters, every one of them.

Me, I see it all as dance. And dance ought to look good. Or not. Won't matter in the least, either way.

Get it: The sole thing that does matter, across all the galaxies, across all the vastness of hyperspace, is food. It's a predatory multiverse, for sure! Haha! But if our dance play looks good, it makes good eating for the Lords of Karma. And then they'll reach down to gratefully pat our heads and in their turn toss us a scrap from the high table of their cosmic feast.