Voice in my head

The voice in my head is not a single person, but rather an unruly committee of weirdos. Contrarian, using compartmentalized logic to baffle and fehoodle me with whispers and rants, they bury me up to my neck in live chickens. None of that is literal. A pocket be upon they gathering sticks in the name of the Lord. Oh, yeah... He speaks to me too.

That's the only One that disturbs me. I mean, He is infallible and ineffable. Be it manky, be it Hilo grits, the damned sing with abandon. Otherwise it would all be for naught. The Tablenakian Priesthood, all those hundreds of years ago, had not naught, for they were naughtless. Being so poor of the Holy Spirit, they rabbleroused and cavorted among the village dogs at every opportunity.

None of not naught brings shame upon the House of David or the Samaritans. It is simply historical fact that Harappan civilization had advanced mathematics further than the Israelites back then. Of course, they had a habit of putting too many limbs on statues.

Misnomered "Inca Roads" bump along lazily in the current. There are Eddies impinging on the borders of a border of the mind. Or is it the mind? A simple word for a thing that to us is equal in complexity to the universe. So does the universe contain God, or vice versa? The crucial fact, the thing they never tell you, is that angels cannot dance. So the answer is zero. Zero angels can dance on the head of a pin.

And so, if this koan analog is solvable with logic, what does this portend for such a greasy piece of dreck such as myself? Here's the thing: if there is a layer of truth under the zero angels, if in fact the correct solution is greater than naught, then I am faced with not naught yet again.