Socrates post mortem

This is what I forgot. There should now be a semi-colon. But I'm trying to avoid them. This is what I forgot. In the last post (for the blog, not a musical tribute played on a trumpet for a lot of dead soldiers) I failed to explain the title. You are not going to get off so lightly. Socrates, it seems was a champion of ignorance. If you think you have deep understanding of anything at all you have successfully compounded the personal flaws that come to the surface as soon as you think your knowledge makes you have a clearer vision of the universe. Ignorance may be bliss, but it's also an integral part of the human condition. You can learn facts and skills but they are always dependent upon you and your environment for any transient validity.

Remember, you are dumb. It's good.

Now that's Scary

The plants and the dogs are doing their transcendental, beautiful tuned-in-to-the-universe thing. The dogs, in particular, are being lovely and cuddly. The plants are oozing a viscous, redolent impression of an exciting afterlife and the porch roof is now transparent. I can see the stars.

Peaches in the Porch; delicious, sweet, luscious, and would have been a better choice as the tree of knowledge (which only makes you more stupid unless you embrace your ignorance) 

    Ok. The music is playing in the background. There is no dissonance, but the song is in a minor key; I think it's Depeche Mode. There is dissonance in my brain. But there is a fair old bit of harmony too. Jumping out of that plane at 4000 feet was a very good idea. How focussed can you be? How much adrenaline can you produce before your heart explodes? very and a lot, respectively.

A big metaphor. The path is the chronology of life, the wheat is the goodness, the crows are death and the sky is the afterlife. Much too easy.   

   Today's poem:

Have A Nice Day

'Help, help, ' said a man. 'I'm drowning.'
'Hang on, ' said a man from the shore.
'Help, help, ' said the man. 'I'm not clowning.'
'Yes, I know, I heard you before.
Be patient dear man who is drowning,
You, see I've got a disease.
I'm waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.
So do be patient please.'
'How long, ' said the man who was drowning. 'Will it take for the Doc to arrive? '
'Not very long, ' said the man with the disease. 'Till then try staying alive.'
'Very well, ' said the man who was drowning. 'I'll try and stay afloat.
By reciting the poems of Browning
And other things he wrote.'
'Help, help, ' said the man with the disease, 'I suddenly feel quite ill.'
'Keep calm.' said the man who was drowning, ' Breathe deeply and lie quite still.'
'Oh dear, ' said the man with the awful disease. 'I think I'm going to die.'
'Farewell, ' said the man who was drowning.
Said the man with the disease, 'goodbye.'
So the man who was drowning, drownded
And the man with the disease past away.
But apart from that,
And a fire in my flat,
It's been a very nice day.