So the day unfolds like most other days, with some unusual unease at blithe and careless politicians and their activities. Despite my efforts to touch the world with only the lightest of touches, they manage to intrude on my reverie and so I prowl the newsfeeds trying to gauge the temper of the body politic.
I know that over time people’s greed causes them to devolve into misery and oppression, and perhaps the dissolution in our nation is inevitable. Still, we tried, and I really hate to see the nation so easily lose focus. It takes a very moral people to self-govern, and I don’t think we have the chops for it. Like Eve, circling the tree, listening to the snake as she marvels at the beauty hanging off the branches, we demand the right to be as god. Which is funny in an ironic sort of way. God’s who grow old and die, and can’t add one inch to our height without some sort of artifice.
So once again, I pick up my figurative marbles and exit the game. I really suck at being God and find my happiness is the ability to munch on breakfast cookies, sip coffee and ponder this miracle called life. Someday, old Thanatos will tap me on the shoulder, and all my musing will end, and the world’s supply of cookies and coffee will fractionally increase.
And another old man will arrive on the scene to chronicle the passing of days. Then another. And another. Then it will end.