Thought for the Day

On the one hand you have the optimists, those worshippers of animate matter who believe pain equals gain, love conquers all, and life is what you make of it, sluicing chance's current for flakes of confirmation with nary a glance downstream, who sometimes hedge their bets with candy coated kingdoms come to assuage that nasty little tic fluttering behind their implanted Leibnitz’s Doctrine. They walk the land garbling contradictory phrases like ‘intrinsic worth’, ‘subjective reality’ and ‘God has a plan for your life’, sprinkling confectioner’s sugar behind them in the footsteps they leave in the mud, as the peasants rejoice for the sweetened muck, trampling over one another for a taste of it; for, after all, some kinds taste better than others. The world turns under their feet, and entropy be damned!

On the other hand you have the pessimists, shrouds without coffins, prophets who cry doom from the center of the tilt-a-whirl at all the gritting teeth behind tightened smiles, warning of the meteorites falling from the sky where others see only space and possibility, preaching portents scried from everyday watch crystal with analog sensitivity, unheard in the digital silence of mocking regularity and good will. Morose, ashamed, feared for their ability to transfer fever by touch, pariahs of unwelcomed lucidity who grapple like heathenistic Davids against stone monoliths the size of history with the shape of upturned thumbs. Spoilsports, sad sacks, melancholic crepehangers hanging porkchops from the Prom Queen’s entourage for effect, inured to champagne bubbles and babies’ coos, who look out Schopenhauer’s window and see dead people sitting at desks, plying their trades and otherwise prostituting themselves to earn quick cash for their own gravestones.


Who sees the state of things more accurately? The answer lies in how one determines risk and necessity. If I throw a sleeping child into the air I might catch it, and I might not. But who will catch both of us when the ground opens up and we are swept away into the void of our origins? When the land closes above our heads, what will have been the point? The grass will grow back, the rain will fall, the sun will parch, and all will be as it was before until the earth shakes again.