For reasons of which I am uncertain – if indeed there is anything especially abstruse about the decision – we’ve lately committed ourselves to retiring no later than 10:00 pm. No doubt the less than perplexing election was moderately prompted by the current wash of attention to record-keeping and accounting arising from the likes of Apple Watch whereby the manufacturers have created a seeming imperative to note every footstep, heartbeat and kilometre in order to legitimize their particular device.  One of the functions is a pre-set bedtime and, I presume, arising, the overall theme being that eight hours of sleep each night at the same time is a good thing.

With the Sleep app on Apple Watch, you can create bedtime schedules to help you meet your sleep goals. Wear your watch to bed, and Apple Watch can track your sleep. When you wake up, open the Sleep app to learn how much sleep you got and see your sleep trends over the past 14 days.

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Remarkable though it may seem – considering we’re in the middle of winter in Canada – I went for a  bicycle ride this morning as did I yesterday morning as well.  I didn’t go far either day, about 4.7Km today and only 2.83Km yesterday. The temperature both mornings was about -14°C and today the air was filled with tiny crystals though the wind was less sharply driven than yesterday. More importantly the subdivision roads were predominantly clear; and significantly, little traffic.  There was frequently a welcome layer of sand and undissolved salt. The curiosity of bicycling in these conditions is strange because those who are walking (often with their dogs) express alarm that one should bicycle when it is so cold – though they themselves are walking in identical conditions! I confess that the opportunity is diminished by the implacable fear of slipping on an ice patch; but with caution I was able to capture invigorating fresh air and sufficient exercise to enhance an appetite for my subsequent breakfast (an equally cherished undertaking).

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Last evening we watched a documentary-style television program hosted by a dark-skinned moderator concerning the ancestry of a man and a woman (unrelated) of Jewish heritage. The disturbing accounts of the pogroms (organized massacre of Jewish people in Russia and eastern Europe) were strangely quelled by the investigation of them by a man who might well have historical roots in slavery. All three persons involved in the dialogue were exceedingly intelligent and successful by any measure. What however captured my more earnest inquiry was why these pogroms began in the first place. What was it that so compelled one set of human beings to respond so violently to another?

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“I do not ask to live to a hundred,” my aunt would say, for she preferred to have no definite limit fixed to the number of her days.“

The unimaginable approaches each of us in a novel and unusual way. Some propose (or pretend) a callous indifference.  Others seek to circumscribe the unknown by single-minded dedication to what they believe is calculated advantage. Some simply abandon the prospect either by ignorance or metaphysical elucidation. Whatever the aforethought no matter how purposeful or reckless it may be, the accepted awareness is that there isn’t one. We all know of those who have been removed from this indefinable sphere too soon and others who have lingered far beyond expectation. We all share that limitless prospective.

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Accordingly, there must be something whose nonexistence would cancel all internal possibility whatsoever. This is a necessary thing.

Kant then argues that this necessary thing must have all the characteristics commonly ascribed to God. Therefore God necessarily exists. This a priori step in Kant’s argument is followed by a step a posteriori, in which he establishes the necessity of an absolutely necessary being. He argues that matter itself contains the principles which give rise to an ordered universe, and this leads us to the concept of God as a Supreme Being, which “embraces within itself everything which can be thought by man.” “God includes all that is possible or real.”

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Among my fund of what are I suspect by some accounts less than endearing conventions is one which I cheerfully embrace on several grounds. The custom to which I refer is that of breakfast. For starters, breakfast is predominantly a morning repast even if extended by drunken delay or overt design (usually with the same calculated purpose through such elevating beverages as a Bloody Caesar or Champagne) to the anodized ceremony of brunch. Breakfast entails more often than not an early rising.  The meal traditionally punctuates a soothing sleep and a natural gusto for a new day. Breakfast is thus a placemat for the very idea of inspiration!

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Stars and newsmakers, they all took turns
by Rocci Fisch, American political commentator

It seems like eons ago
That a new prez took over the show
Biden in, Trump out
So now let’s see what it’s all about

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ARTICLE FROM THE U.K. GUARDIAN
by Marina Hyde

No grace, no dignity, no humility, no magnanimity, no class, no morals, no empathy, no soul. He has no friends, not even a dog.

His wife can’t bear his touch, his daughter can’t avoid it. Devoid of humour he doesn’t make jokes, he doesn’t laugh. Not ever. An occasional dismal rictus, a necrotic gash in his ochre-lacquered face-bladder signifies nothing more than his satisfaction in transacting failing with no compensating virtues. A craven coward. A sociopath. A serial rapist. A racist. A quisling. An opportunistic grifter. An inveterate cheat. A deceitful toad. A chronic liar. A shameless braggart. An ignoramus who lacks curiosity. He doesn’t read, he doesn’t care. Trump is a ridiculous, combed-over cartoon villain, a deranged clown with a face sprayed the colour of hang-over piss and toilet paper stuck to his shoe, whose wits are defeated by an open umbrella.

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This pandemic business is becoming more than an obstruction; it’s positively recasting our world. Whatever big or small ambitions one may once have had – whether a winter sojourn or going out for lunch at a Pho beanery – it’s all changed. After years of planning and practicing, the scenery is entirely altered.  There is no escaping the present, the immediacy of it, the inalterable mould of it.  It requires a complete rethinking of what one does. The traditional habits of grocery shopping, fuelling and washing the car, collecting the mail, laundry and house cleaning all prevail – but with renewed imperative. And the imperative is that that’s all there is!

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There is a term in the practice of law called a “legal fiction“. A common (though inaccurate) example is the “reasonable man“, a creation used particularly in negligence cases in order to establish what a reasonable person in the position of the defendant would do in the circumstances. It is meant to distinguish an objective test from a subjective test.  A more accurate description of a legal fiction is for example, if a person renounces a legacy (which is a gift by Will) that person will be deemed (presumed) to have predeceased the testator (the one who makes the Will) for the purposes of distributing the estate. The presumption effectively creates a fact which though false is used by the court for convenience. A more recognizable legal fiction is the concept of a corporation which is presumed by the court to be a legal person though clearly it is not.

“Thus, the fiction that a corporation is, for many purposes, a person separate from its members is equivalent to saying that, for those purposes, the law deals with the group as a unit, disregarding for the moment the group’s individual members as such.“

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