SimpleSouls

That’s how the cookie crumbles: the more complex the system the more things that can go wrong with it. I ought to know, given the prodigious amount of things that are going kaput in, on, out and about my complex vile body. I think I’d gladly emulate the little chap in the doodle and become a single-cell organism. The only drawback I can see in this otherwise amiable state of being is that I wouldn’t be able to operate a mouse or a tablet and therefore no doodles. Then again, that would make some people very happy so it would sort of even things out, more or less. I love happy endings. And bad poetry.

When I was a small amoeba
Cuter than the queen of Sheba
If trod upon I would split
Slide, regroup and reknit
And go back to puff my cheeba.

When I was a small amoeba
And I didn't have a liver
I could get drunk every day
Armless, merry, free and gay
And my pods woul’n’t even quiver.

When I was a single cell
Life was easy, life was swell
Now I am eukaryotic
Drifting around quite neurotic
And my life is one pure hell.

If you know what’s good for you
You’ll stay put and not be two
Cleave to your monadic charm
Never try to grow an arm
Don’t become organic stew!