Back to front
So it is blasphemous to “insult” an imaginary being that doesn’t exist, but it isn’t blasphemous to attack science, rationality, and the real world?
In the shadows
Searching for memories of childhood and youth. Events that were once full of colour and sound and movement and excitement and familiar people and places, are now, at best, faded shadows words forgotten, places unpictured names and faces beyond recall.
Make a list
When fascists gain power there first instinct is to destroy the environment – boost coal burning, get rid of national parks and conservation measures cut down the Amazon jungle. That will show the World who’s boss.
Harder than the common cold
If religion was purely a matter of individual private belief it could be just dumped in with all the other irrational thought patterns that so bedevil Homo sapiens (and presumably sapiens ancestors, though the other apes seem to be purely rational), a curiosity for psychological investigation perhaps. The problem is that one essential part of
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No book contract
If someone claimed that they, or their child, had been through a near death experience, in which they travelled to the real Disneyland on the moon, and there they met Mickey and Donald who were real live animals who could speak, then they would be recognised as suffering from delusions and they would be treated
Hubris
How messed up would your mind have to be to write a book telling other people how to live their lives?
Who watches the watcher?
Haven’t seen a snake yet this Spring, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t seen me
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Not restful
If Sunday is the day of rest why do so many people spend it talking to an imaginary friend, worrying about an imaginary afterlife, and whipping themselves into a frenzy thinking of someone, somewhere, is having fun?
The old schoolyard
The crowd of people that surround you at school – friends, enemies, classmates, teachers – who once you knew so well, or thought you did anyway. What happened to them over the next sixty years?
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Dropping like flies
People keep dying in their seventies, like runners in a marathon falling by the wayside, in sight of the finish line.
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