THE DEATH OF CRITICAL THINKING & REASON: pointing fingers at you, the Sun, god and everyone, yo, not you, yo #WFT

“How many fingers do you have pointing at me, Bilta?”, I ask as I yawn at the café by the beach with a cold frappe in my hand.

“None”, he replies as he shrugs, “I’m just trying to enjoy a pleasant afternoon with a good friend and a conversation, yo.”

“Me too, yo”, I continue speaking as I sip my coffee from my green taza, “you know, yo, some people love you and some people hate you, yo; but, few people like and care about you.  I have fans and critics–but, few in between.”

“I could stick my middle finger at you’, he responds as he turns his head to me, “if that would make you feel better, then I could be your worst enemy, yo.”

“Oh!”, I respond as I laugh, “I’m good in that department–everytime, I look in the mirror when I am in the bathroom wawshing my hands I am reminded of the bad decisions that I’ve made in the past and the opportunity that I have in the future; it’s both the past that holds me back and the potential of tomorrow that pushes me forward, yo.”

I pause; I look out the window at the 13 surfers in the water waiting to catch the next set of waves.

I turn my head back to Bilta; he only shows up ’cause I pay for the coffee and stale biscottis.

“Furthermor”, I continue speaking as I sigh, “you just showed up today–I have a meeting with a client in 15 minutes and you need to make yourself scarce.  Why, yo, don’t

I think Monce is running the Republicans for Trump fan squad in Mexico but we’ll discuss that later, yo. #LOSER

Why, yo, don’t you make yourself scarce and sit in that chair over there by the window and sip your coffee and look out the window and you can see how I run this meeting, yo.  If there are any problems–feel free to jump in and use your sweet Jeet Kun Do karate skills to defuse the situation, yo.  You are both a valuable writer and a small lethal killing machine… and very whiny and annoying but that’s how things go, yo.”

He turns his head to look out the window and then back to me.

“I’m going to just go over to that other table and wait until your done with your business and then, maybe, we can go down to the beach and watch the sunset?”

“Don’t be a loser, Bilta, they telecast that 24/7 on Channel 8 on the digital.streams”, I respond as I shrug, “just watch it on TV in the comfort of your house on your couch.”

I pause; that sounds relaxing.

“Oh yeah”, I continue, “with a bag of digital.papitas, yo.  Those are f’n delicious, yo.”

I take another sip from my taza and set it on the digital.table in front of me in the digital.simulation.

“She’s here now for the meeting”, I continue speaking as Bilta gets up from the table, “watch me to see how it’s done.”

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