They say: Don’t speak ill of the dead. Yeah, right.
Snatched out of oblivion, and for what?
If people are never born, they are saved the problem of dying.
Do politicians never realise that when they talk like politicians they don’t sound at all clever, they simply sound like arses?
I simply cannot understand why lots of people don’t ride motor cycles. Are they insane?
I’ll say it again, and not in a telegram: BETTER DROWNED THAN DUFFERS IF NOT DUFFERS WON’T DROWN.
But I’m sure there are times I see people drowning, not waving.
Ennui: an existential perception of life’s futility. Ennui is a consequence of unfulfilled aspirations.
The steady trickle of so-called informed opinion pieces on Brexit and its forecast effects on the country, the EU and the rest of the known universe, has become a flood, except that such pieces are now presented as facts, as certainties, as truths. These things are the confident stupidities of the drunk on the bar-room stool.
Here’s what I think: Nobody can possibly know!
I saw a man in the barber’s mirror today who I didn’t recognise. I see now that he’s followed me home and sits with me in my office as I type this. Who can I complain to about this stalker?
It seems we produce a form a cannabinoid naturally, often after exercise although it is claimed that other activities stimulate production. So I was probably a little bit (naturally) stoned today when riding the Bonneville, notwithstanding the freezing cold weather. Bliss.
Nobody should fear death. We are only stardust and once our consciousness dies, we’ll assume our natural stardust condition again. Our chemicals won’t die. They can’t.