sometimes people look at the world, at the sun and the moon and the earth and they think how amazing it is that it all works like a machine and our incredible fluke of life is secure and predictable day in day out. sometimes they make similar conclusions about nature, that spring follows winter, that everything goes round and round mechanically, branches budding, ants reappear crawling into cracks, birds return nesting in the vines, but it might be the opposite. the machines we invent all the while believing they aren’t natural because we made them, in fact are simply imitations of all that surround us, just reflecting all that we already know or what we already are. which might mean our minds are also machines being machines, despite looking in the mirror and saying hey handsome wassup? is that our free will or an example of our program or fulfilling our program? is every complaint we endlessly repeat just what we’re supposed to do? in a way, bo diddley figured this out long ago when he bought his baby a diamond ring and when it didn’t shine he took it to a private eye and realized if that private eye couldn’t see he better not take it away from him.