Category Archives: General

Prospective

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.

Excerpt From
Marcel Proust, “Swann’s Way”

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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A necessary thing

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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Apple sauce

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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Whew!

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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We ain’t goin’ nowhere!

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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Saturday afternoon at the park

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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Treasure

“He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation.

Excerpt From
Edith Wharton. “The Age of Innocence.”

It is improbable that two of us harbour an identical account of treasure.  One for example may express a passion for guns; another for automobiles; some for horses; still others for clocks or oil paintings.  I’ve even known one consumed by cranberry stemware. A more predictable likeness is the narcotic effect of materialism, the unparalleled commotion surrounding its acquisition and display, and the remarkable assuredness of its re-enactment no matter how diverse or prolonged the zealousness may be.

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Walking the dog

“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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