This squirrel, comments: “You have an active electrical hum. Thou shouldn’t believe thinking.” What a helpful sentiment for the wrong garbage collection. Like here are these discharges from a talking squirrel, but where these talking discharges belong, lands in a place discharges have been wrongly attributed: shame. Taxi cabs do not belong in back alley dumpsters; they don’t even fit. Active electrical hum = absence of being possessed by the death of belief. WARNING: ISM, even by good-intentions, murders vibration in the confines of statements. Squirrels: their approach, are, sincerely unable to help anything, but it is in their co-existance with their habitat that keeps beauty of a backyard as active as an electrical hum. Rhina barking at one now. Except of course squirrels, indeed themselves, little balls of electrical hums; and this particular one, with a statement about active electrical hums, a statement from the shamed-collection of commenting: where the world is misperceived in the shouldn’t of its own squirrelly existence; as unfree within the confines of ISM, perpetuated by the inability to hear the hum of its own electricity: free-flowing (possessed by death); and finds necessity to “thou shouldn’t.” Yet wild in the squirrel’s eyes shows, there are no sentiments, little-balls of activity, the pre-dispositonal electric discharges of freedom. They dwell in the foreground of seeing, and if they can see their squirrelly-ness is a squirrelly antidote to all un-squirrely statements and the – shouldn’t ways – of commenting. Then the squirrel’s own misplaced sentiment would, inevitably, un-impose its placement and re-route to dispose of its taxi cabs and warnings in the garbage disposal of appreciation and humor; diametrically opposing the governing enforcement of ISM. It would roam between the disintegrating ruins of belief with tears of laughter.