THEY TELL ME
this the final resort of the utterly desperate.
Sarcasm? Just hyperbole taken just a little more to the extremis end of the scale. Sadly I’m a bit too long in the tooth to worry about offending the sensitive—I call it as I see it, and if I’m wrong my mistakes will be in turd with my bones (Shakespeare) (sort of).
ONE CANNOT HELP
but look at history and run screaming from the room, no? Some take comfort in Jesus (or Allah, Buddha, Charlie, etc etc …) others hide behind various mind-expanders.
“Desperate,” I was told at school by knowledgeable teachers (mostly men with a good eye and superb coordination when it comes to throwing things) “stems from the Latin de meaning away from, and spero meaning ‘I hope’.”
So the desperate are those with no hope.
I’ve been desperate then for a very long time. How can there be ‘hope’ for anyone with eyes open and one half of four fifths of two thirds of .0000000000001 per cent of a mind capable of integrating and interpreting reality?
SO THE FIRST QUESTION
here has to be ‘what, pray, is reality?’ and it is a toughie. The love of Christ of course answers all such questions, as does the love of Allah and His merry minions with their own rather peculiar* peccadilloes, and the love of any of the many tens of thousands of unique Creators, divinities, gods, Gods, goddesses etc etc ad nauseam throughout history.
Real to some, no?
I personally tend to think that a sharpened bayonet or a falling bomb is a bit more real than a crucifix or gibbering mullah’s babbles, but that’s just me. I’m a sarcastic bastard and when I see things from my own twisted perspective I take refuge in sarcasm. (Hardly anyone reads my blogs anyway so I can’t offend too many.)
have a nice shot of a parked cars in Invercargill—
—and tell me why I put such an irrelevance in this post?**
And on the subject of reality, here’s a replay of the nice chart that I haven’t even attempted to verify ‘cos being Greenland it’s hardly relevant to me in New Zealand … or you, wherever.
And yes—that was sarcasm.
* Judge not, lest thee be judged … “Full ahead both!” (and damn the torpedoes …)
“Mr Argus! Sir!”
(Bugger, it’s Little Virginia …)
“Yes, sweet Pest?”
“Sir—you said ‘damn’ … it’s a naughty word, Sir!”
“Oh … … bugger.”
** CLUE: if you have to ask you’ve missed my point …