Who or what is the entity known as ‘I’? The whole composite of mind and body? Or just the persistent voice in ‘my’ head that tries to deal with the rest? And how do ‘my’ deep-sleep dreams fit into the definition you prefer? Thinkers down the ages have wrestled with the topic and supernaturalists have formulated conflicting explanations, leading to revolution and war. And now some new science will fuel the flames of the debate. There seems to be brain activity after ‘death’ as defined by accepted medical practice.
Does this persistent brain activity have any ‘purpose’? Is the owner ‘conscious’ of it? That is, what is it for, if anything? Or is it like the decapitated chicken that keeps on running? Or a turbine spinning after shut-down?
Even Backside couldn’t have invented this PoW story.
Who says big biz has no sense of humour?
Guess who’s buying the baby formula giant! The owner of Durex. That’s all about preparing for the worst, I suppose. Buy me and stop one or if not……….
Hacking, bugging, snooping, leaking, infiltrating, etc., etc., seem to be the daily agenda for governments, as they have, I guess, since Adam were a lad. So let’s save our concern that Russia showed interest in the US election. Do we imagine the US is idle in Moscow or Beijing or Delhi or London or…..?
No doubt the meeja will be reporting Trump’s first decisions as President almost before he has made them; and the Brexit negotiations will be about as secret as a fart in a bathtub.
It’s interesting that Trump chooses to herald his activities by using social media, which can hardly be pre-empted by data thieves! Not a bad idea, perhaps.
It’s best to keep new year’s resolutions to oneself. That way, breaking them inspires least hilarity or contempt in others. Backside’s irritating irony would always be too much for me. But for all that, I can reveal I am resolved to kill the gadfly which my other head too often allows me to employ at others’ expense. I will brave his efforts to persuade me to harness a new one whenever I feel the urge. So! That’s done. And yes, I feel better already and hope that you, friends, will let us know how you intend to conduct yourselves in 2017. Or have you resolved to tell nobody?
If only ! I hear you say! To witness the bad-tempered shoppers and manic motorists, one would never guess the intended mood of the winter holidays. Danes are always spacially unaware in crowds; the only space of interest is their own, as of right. And now their rudeness is compounded by a desire to grab the very items other foragers are examining. But soft! Here in the backwoods the deer are still keeping their distance, blissfully ignorant of the seasonal fun the hunters will soon be sharing with them.
So despite everything, friends, my close companion Backside joins me in wishing you and yours whatever respite you seek for yourselves these dark days. I’ve told him there’s so much to be positive about. (No reply.)
In time for the festive season it is reported that Wales now rejoices in 10 million sheep but only 3 million homo-sapiens-type creatures.
That’s a flocking surge, says the Mail. An apposite observation, methinks.
They are the Marmite of veggies, the bane of bairns. And I love ’em.
Their growers have their own association (as you do) who are campaigning against boiling the little critters. Steam, stir-fry or microzap, they insist.
But I humbly suggest an easier way to max their flavour. Take a shallow dish, drizzle ’em with extra virgins, cover with foil and bake in the oven with the roast. Say 15 or 20 minutes – to taste. Crisp or not, you decide. And it’s true, sprouts improve with frost and don’t mention Brussels.