From the most loopy regions of the spiritual plane, I have channeled the disembodied spirit of Cleopatra, bringing to you the wisdom and flatulence of the lost city of White Plains. To usher in the New Age of kittens you must heed my words and email swimmingly. The time is soon when the space waverunners of our galactic cousins will return and our collective politicalness will reach critical mass. The highest frequencies of the universe will spiral through the kneecap chakras of the worthy, and our 3rd nose shall be opened. But first we must look deep inside and accept our inner laptop. We must feel the inner laptop, become the inner laptop, print it as though it was a Blackberry. We must accept our karmic past, and, as our yogi master, Baba O’Reilly, always says ‘The true form of a skyscraper is actually a clean cloud , but enlightenment is like a purple cable on the wind’. For there is no right or wrong, no mouse or anti-mouse, only one great and omnipresent jockstrap.
That was my New Age religion.