Friendship with the Earth and the Beasts thereof

We interrupt our normal broadcast for a special report.

It has come to my attention that a man of power, indeed, a veritable prophet, might be visiting this humble corner of the interweb in the near future. To him I give my warmest welcome, which is at least as warm as the heart of the sun. May he partake fully of the pleasures contained herein and, by Providence, avoid altogether any bitterness and silly talk; therefore, I wish him peace.

We now continue with our regular programming.

Now, my friends, I may proceed to my intended topic: nonhuman friends. These may be animate objects, inanimate objects, or abstract objects. Many households have adopted animate objects, usually animals, as friends. Though my household has done no such thing for many years, this yet remains a noble practice, unless of course those animals happen to be those that do not make friends, such as the jellyfish or the unicorn or the elephant. Even worse, one could adopt a unicorn and and elephant, which are perpetually at war in their native home, India. Also, elephants are very difficult to feed, as the mandrake plants tend to run away. The same applies to unicorns, except that it is the unicorns that run from their food and the one feeding them rather than the food itself running away. There is and exception, though, in the case of the unicorn: it may be cared for by a beautifully dressed virgin in the midst of a forest, otherwise the unicorn will gore its intended master to death, just as Alexander gored the Persian Empire. Thus we must be very selective of our animal friends, remaining with such creatures as dogs and horses and talking dogs and talking horses. The latter two, though, should be tested for unclean spirits before making friends. To conclude, I would like to advise my friends on certain truths in animal-friend-naming.

That one ought to call a dog by the name Philokunos
That one ought to call a horse by the name Philoippos.
That one ought to call a bird by the name John Cage.
That one ought to call a fish by the name Philoichthus.

Next we move on to friendship with inanimate objects, which is also a noble practice, pursued by many fine individuals, though admittedly fewer than the latter. I for one, the readership may recall, made friends with a miracle gourd (which seems to have been a squash) until the Lord sent a worm (or fungus or something) to kill it. Regardless, I am not without precedent. The naming of these friends, unless we are Scientists, matters little to me, as far as noble truths go. I named my friend the gourd, or perhaps my friend the squash, My Friend the Gourd. Of course, there are other inanimate objects less suitable for friendship, such as the mirror's reflection or the gilded (and bearded) idol or the deceased corpse. Pet rocks, by the way, are fine.

Lastly we come to the most important variety of nonhuman friend, the abstract object. These include numbers and words, which are the best abstract objects for befriending. It is mathematical fact, after all, that some numbers are greater than others. Which number is the greatest, however, is a matter of dispute. Some say (all right, so one noble reader says) that twelve is the greatest number, while others say that twelve must be less than some number. Of course, we must remind ourselves of the number three, which is the number of the Holy Trinity, and that three and thirty seems to be the number of years Our Lord Christ Jesus spent upon the earth, three of which comprised His ministry, and that He seems to have died at 3:00 pm, only to rise three days later. Furthermore, we find a propensity of three-point slogans (shout your slogans! throw your stones! it will not help!) throughout human history, including but not limited to the French Revolution, "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," and the Russian Revolution, "Land, Peace, Bread" and from the radio (the voice of the Evil Right-Wing Republicanofascist Conspiracy), "USA! USA! USA!" So it must be a sound proposition to make better friends with some numbers over others.

This moves us on to words, which may be kept as adopted pets or children. It is, after all, a moral imperative to treat orphans and widows well, and why should this not extend to orphaned and widowed words? Here are three (the number of the Holy Trinity, et cetera) words that I at least have adopted:

Groovy, that I might express something to be swell.
Swell, that I might express something to be neato.
Neato, that I might express something to be groovy.

It is also recommended that we occasionally make use of common word orderings in dead languages. Take the sentence, "I cut him into little pieces with a knife, and I hid his remains under the floorboards."

The Ancient Greek would phrase it as follows:
"Having cut him into little pieces with a knife, I at least hid his remains under the floorboards."

Or the Middle Englishman:
"Indeed, I did take mine own knife and dice his most foul corpse into the smallest of pieces, and furthermore I hid that which remained beneath my floorboards, ere the mangled corpse remaineth yet."

Can we really leave these unpleasant and cumbersome wordings out to die in the cold and the wind and the rain and the airplane and the blood and the mud and the beer? Of course not. By the way, you are right. I did just quote Pink Floyd ("San Tropez") and Johnny Cash ("A Boy Named Sue") in the same breath.

So concludes our discussion of inhuman, that is, nonhuman friendship. Remember, though, my friends (who are human), you are always the best of friends. As I have said before (in precisely three words), hurrah for friendship!