The Oracle of Bacon, as it relates to “Six Degrees of Separation,” has really nothing to do with what comes next, UNLESS you can find the common link among the posting below:

British soldiers arrived in colonial India wearing crisp white uniforms that turned light brown after being exposed to the dry earth and muddy waters.  The Indians dubbed the color “khaki” - Urdu for dust - and the name has become synonymous with practical, comfortable pants.

Jon Anderson once wrote a song about a trip to Las Vegas following an all-night binge when he was stoned, gambling, and happened to look down, in his stuper, early the next morning and see a little girl with flowers in her hair….. “Caesar’s Palace morning glory, silly human race - yours is no disgrace.”

In 1940, two prototype vehicles named “QUADs” were delivered to Camp Holland, Maryland, for testing.  After positive results, U.S. Army officials promptly ordered 1500 more.  These General Purpose vehicles, “GP” for short, are what we commonly know as ”jeeps” today.

The well known Hell’s Angel, Sonny Barger, once stated that there are 3 kinds of people in the world:  “Those who make things happen, those who watch things happen, and those who wonder, ‘What the fuck happened?’”

When you “Google” Woody Harrelson’s photo, the series of pictures copied above appears.  Profound, perhaps, yet apt.  Woody, a charitable and generous sort, is also a bit of a ramrod and, as it turns out (surprisingly), quite a prolific writer.  Bear witness: 

                            “A new day, trembling with potential.

                  I am the potentiate, and my life is equal to the task

                          of living, of loving, of moving my love. 

                             Yesterday I wallowed in me-hood,

                                 Following a well-worn path.

                                 Today, I jump from bridges,

                         Dance on tiny windowsills high above

                    the ubiquitous crowd of unsuspecting faces.

                                Combative.  Angry.  Hostile.

            Those were the bedrock of this body’s previous tenant. 

                                             And now I,

             Nameless, unnameable, ergo mysterious, incorrigible

                          March to the musical manifestations,

                           The bass and harp of distant angels,

                 Calling me with their many magnificent mouths:

                                          Dance, creature!

                                        Put down your pen,

                                         Lift up your limbs,

                     And dance to greet another golden morning. 

             

       

                                     (Marconi)