we got to get out of this place / if it's the last thing we ever do / we got to get out of this place / girl there's a better place / for me and you

Clicking might be nice.

It's happening again. What claims to be Reality on Planet Earth has just become too ghastly and horrifying to endure, so I must flee.

Call me a coward if you like. But I've been posting about Earth Reality a lot this past week, I've been a Very Fine Political Blogger.

And it's made me quite ill. So I'm fleeing.

I'd flee to my vacation condo next to the Shoe Mirrors Underway station in Ciudad Vleeptron, but once again, the Zeta Beam is on the frizz, and it's going to take weeks to get new parts.

So there's only one other locus to flee to to get off this sucky planet -- the Realm of Platonic Objects.

They never lie.

They are perfect.

They last forever.

In order to exist, they don't need me, or you, or anybody. If we all vanish, they won't.

None of these Platonic Objects can possibly exist on Earth. Our Space and our Time are just -- well, wrong, too restrictive, too crude to contain a single one of these amazing, perfect objects.

When I flee Earth Reality to cavort and gambol amongst these Platonic Objects, I rent a car with square wheels.

I tried to use it on Earth, but as you can imagine, it was a terrible car for Earth roads.

But I can drive my square-wheeled car on a road whose surface is made of hump-up catenaries, and it's as smooth a ride as a BMW on the Autobahn.

If I pay a little more, I can rent a car with pentagonal wheels, or hexagonal wheels -- wheels of any number of sides -- and there's a catenary highway that will give me a perfectly smooth ride for all of them. Once I rented a car whose wheels were 23-sided, and just drove through the countryside smooth as silk. Didn't even spill my coffee.

You don't believe me, but it's True.

Have I told you about the screwy storage tank here? Sort of a quonset hut, but it slopes down from a tall end to a very small, narrow end. It has a hole at the top and you can pour olive oil into it until it fills up the inside of the storage tank. It holds a specific, finite volume of olive oil (or vinegar, or absinthe).

Then I decided I didn't like the hut's color, so I bought some paint and started to paint the outside.

I had to keep going back to the paint store to buy more and more and more cans of paint. I could never finish painting the storage tank. It would have taken me forever. Really forever.

Somebody finally explained to me that the storage tank had a finite volume, but an infinite surface. She showed me its equation, and I used the equation to build another storage tank. I filled it up with chocolate milk until I couldn't add another drop.

Then I tried to paint the outside turquoise. But I could never buy enough turquoise paint to paint the whole surface.

I'll be back when I've had too much Beauty and Truth and Perfection.