Thursday, November 12, 2020

I. Can't. Stop.

Telling the synchronicity fairies to take a hike was, it turns out, about as smart as giving a hornets' nest a whack with a baseball bat. They immediately unleashed a fire hose of syncs on me and -- okay, I give up. In true Charltonian fashion, I repent, but I'm not going to stop. See The Magician's Table for my latest post on the birdemic as the sole ill.

On the positive side, I have been able to keep one part of my resolution. I haven't been reading the news or anything like unto it. Actual news was cut out of my diet ages ago, of course, but I had still been reading news satire (Babylon Bee), news-focused bloggers (Vox Day, William Briggs, Laura Wood), and even President Trump's Twitter. For a few days after the recent election, I even (I blush to confess) took a peek or to at the New York Times -- but just for the election results! The modern-day equivalent of reading Playboy for the articles.

Since deciding to take a break -- which was, I know, like two days ago -- I haven't touched any of that. And I don't intend to until February. Let the whole electoral drama play itself out; there will be plenty of people to watch the show without me having to be one of them.

1 comment:

Bruce Charlton said...

Charlton would say that to repent you must not so much "want to stop", as know that you should not do it. In other words, repentance is a knowing rather than a wanting.

Where does that leave you? Maybe the opposite. You want to stop, but don't know whether you should, perhaps?

Neither aliens nor animals are biological robots, and we shouldn’t be, either.

Yesterday I bought and started reading the Kindle edition of Whitley Strieber’s latest book, The Fourth Mind. On page 47, he criticizes thos...