It’s the Ides of March, apparently. This is the day that Stabber got seized. Or was it the day that Caesar got stabbed? I always get confused. Anyway, it’s probably irrelevant, since it’s notoriously difficult to be specific about dates that far back in time — and, more to the point, nobody gives a fig either.
At lunch time today I dropped into a café. I really must get the parachute fixed on that ejector seat. Anyway, they were kind enough to furnish me with both coffee and… well, furniture. I had a few hours free this afternoon, so I spent a minute or so browsing the second hand book shelves. At length, I selected a volume about the local area.
I was feeling a little peckish after my flight, so before nestling at the tail end of the establishment, I took a gander at the food. Unfortunately, I mispronounced ‘currant bun’ as ‘current pun’, and got a bit of a shock when I bit into what they’d supplied. I just hope they didn’t overcharge me.
The coffee was refreshing. I could tell because it came with an hourglass that kept revolving alongside it. It’s a good job I wasn’t in my mac, because I think a spinning beachball would have cleared the table faster than the Cincinatti Kid. While I waited, I sat and thought about assassination. Not any particular assassination, you understand: just the general concept. It struck me that it’s simply one of the more extreme manifestations of a mind’s efforts to edit reality to suit its expectations. Or is it one of the more manifest expectations of a suit’s efforts to edit the mind and get real about its extremities? I think the linguistic module I installed when I got to Earth may be in need of servicing.
Anyway, to get back on topic… we all know that killing is wrong, right? And two wrongs don’t make a right, although three rights make a left — but listen up: left or right, a wrong is just wrong, and backward. I’m down with that.
But what about the trolley problem?
You’ve heard of the trolley problem, I assume? Basically there are two supermarket aisles, and a trolley is heading for a stack of 500 tins, and you have to decide whether to push it the other way and knock over 100 tins instead. Or something like that. Never understood what the big problem is, myself, because I’d never manage to hit either stack of tins, given that trolleys have minds of their own. Yes, they really do, actually. They’re installed at the factory and programmed to cause maximum back injury and inconvenience.
But I’ve strayed from the topic. Where was I? Oh, I can’t concentrate now, sorry. I think it’s all those shocks I received from that current pun. For now, I’ll just wish you a Merry Treason Day. Mind your backs.
