Place this in your pipe and fire it up. Top or bottom of the food chain is a matter of perspective. We have long thought of ourselves as the pinnacle, the shizzznitz, the ipsissimus of all life. Forgive me, but i beg to differ. This train of thought has been partially stimulated by the ongoing discussion involving the merits of veganism over an omnivorous way of eating. This assumes that eating a plant based diet is as nutritious, health giving and complete as eating from multiple sources. It also assumes that it is more ethically and morally correct to spare the lives of animals as food. Research done over decades, verifying that plants not only have sensory apparatus that allows them to "feel" in profound and empathetic ways, but indicate that they "know" when they are being harvested and eaten would tend to debunk the notion that it is any more morally correct to eat plants than a diet based on animal and mineral kingdoms as well. My take on all that is that Sacred knows no prejudice. It's all or nothing. Acknowledging that and giving respect to the cycle of birth, life and death is the necessary precursor to minimizing the "freak out to the land of Hyperbole" impulse. In recognizing this, one has to wonder as to whether this food chain concept is any more than just another anthropomorphic pat on the back testifying to our awesomeness. Consider the fact that our ability to have created language is one vehicle in which we navigate the path to said awesomeness. Consider also that this is said to have put us in advance of all other living critters in the mere fact of our being able to describe our awesomeness. Consider also that this is a mindless exercise in hubris. Wanna know how I see it? I thought not. The plant kingdom is the pinnacle of Natures Creative Existence. The human species, possibly an import, possibly a monkey chimera, possibly an extra terrestrial experiment gone terribly wrong is in reality, food for the plant kingdom which is wondering just when the fuck we are going to do away with coffins and urns. Oh sure, you're gonna say what about Mozart, DaVinci, Van Goghgle and Michael Jackson? To which I say, even a broken watch tells the right time twice a day. Plants are conscious and have language beyond anything we can as yet quantify. They are adaptable beyond any measure of human capacity and they could give a shit about iphones. They thrive on our remains as we attempt to figure out how to culture them to nurture our gardens (for the neophyte, we're talkin' compost). They are stable and resilient to all conditions thrown at them by natural forces with the notable exception of human stupidity. In the End however, the plants will out. The simplest definition of sustainable is no external inputs to the system and the system continues to thrive, like the amazon rainforests or the great coniferous forests of the north. Humans require more external inputs than any other species in existence. "On and on, the rain will sing, how fragile we are, how fragile we are."Climax ecosystems in the plant world only require four things. Fire, Earth, Air, Water. I would argue that we are, in fact at the bottom of the "food chain". We are the most abundant source of food for the Plant Kingdom. Sorta toxic at this point, but what's a couple of millennia of composting in Earth Time. Sometimes, when i walk around the orchard wondering why the mangoes don't set fruit regularly and pining over my lack of insight, I sense the trees laughing their asses (if they had them) off over my attempt at bringing my consciousness to a level of understanding that can have a positive influence on the rendering of a more consistent fruit set. And when I realize that they will outlive me I figure fuck it, Tyler can figure it out. Let's crack another brewsky. Mangoes are the flibbertigibbets of the plant world. They could absolutely give a shit about your expectations or any assumption  of their consistency in bearing. Moreover, they snigger at your whimpyness. While I have somewhat mastered the many dialects of Fowl language, it will be the work of my remaining years to learn Mango. We have twenty one varieties, and i feel certain that each speaks a different dialect. For now I will be more fawning and obsequious, make less eye contact with the young fruits and in general behave the way I would around the Queen of England, or Little Richard. This week in news: Greenleaf turned my golf game around, again. The man is a miracle worker. The Rancho is throbbing like a debutant on E. Mom is arriving June twenty fifth and will be holding court at the second party of the season (to be announced). I'm kvelling, but in moderation. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp