If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance I’m already dead. I hope not. It would be much more my preference to be holding your hand, sharing a meal and a fine smoke rather than to speaking to you through the filters of time, space, and technology. And yet, here I am and you are miles and years away, a chasm I may not have time to bridge.
After so many years of war, I feel there is nothing else at times. The fatigue wears on me like the weight of bags of wet rice on the back, splashing barefoot through endless acres of mud with no safe harbour in sight. Funsocks, Monsieur Thomas and I are among the only ones left. We’re surrounded by an assortment of intellectual monsters, the worst kind, those who tread water in the shallow waters of the Dunning-Krueger curve. The Delta wave is also heavy, disrupting trade, bringing out the worst in people.
This paper, released only this week, underlines the importance of what we do with our children. Yet, vaccine deniers insist on maintaining risk and so promoting the further isolation and siloing of children. The burden of cost of bad decisions today, regrettably will be the problem of future generations – meanwhile billionaires are charting the limits of good sense by taking brief tours of low orbit, nurses and doctors are afraid to enters the hallowed halls of healing (hospitals) because gangs of morons stand in the way. The examples are too few too numerous to count, it’s an odd time in this man’s life – a life that has already been filled with oddities.
It’s a complicated thing, to love your brother while he sticks the knife in. Let’s see if we can decipher some of the clues to my own death, and impending risks to your own existence.