I am experiencing a prolonged period of mild reactive depression.
Reactive,
that is, in response to the realization of the utter futility of hoping that
the sodden, mindless masses, motivated purely by Pavlovian responses to the bits of
cake that the political coterie cast before them to divert their attention from
the gathering storm clouds of impending disaster, will finally grasp the
concept that democracy is deadly serious, that support of a political party is
support for a belief system, for a set of ideals and their application to solutions for immensely complex social, economic and environmental issues, not support for
a fucking football team.
Or differentiate between self-interest and the common good.
Or differentiate between self-interest and the common good.
Or be outraged by the absence of intelligence,
compassion, generosity and respect in public discourse.
Or
be repelled by the arrogance of assuming that simplistic, misleading and
cynically mendacious argument won’t be noticed.
I have, therefore, been putting off writing this note
in the forlorn hope that I might suddenly discover the ability to write
something even mildly entertaining or interesting.
Then, out of the blue, when I was in the kitchen the
other day getting myself some lunch, an idea popped up in my head which I
thought was fucking hilarious. Regrettably I overestimated my powers of recall,
and for the life of me, I haven’t a bloody clue what it was. I thought I’d give
it a few days, sure that it would come back, but alas, I think it’s gone
forever.
What I can recall is the outstandingly
colourless thought I had while I was contemplating the ocean over the rim of my
pint of ale recently.
The curvature of the horizon is clearly evident from our elevated position, and it occurred to me that there is no such thing as a straight line.
The curvature of the horizon is clearly evident from our elevated position, and it occurred to me that there is no such thing as a straight line.
A straight line is merely a segment of an arc of a circle of infinite radius.
(My lack of regard for the probability that every
spotty-faced school kid already knows this doesn't concern me. Once again, I
couldn’t give a flying fuck.)

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