Had a flash, while notre cher Anton was explaining how galaxy-formation computer-simulation requires the existence of Dark Matter to explain the (photographic, etc.) evidence we have of the Universe of approximately only one and a half billion years old (say, twelve billion years ago): Dealing in a rational, adult manner with such immense antiquities is maybe something that those who grew up in Jesus Land, and who may have had their brains sadistically mutilated by Parochial School Educations, are ill-equipped to do. While still, I myself find the existence of Dark Matter a depressing prospect--and even as I still am deeply annoyed by the Big Bang itself (which, goddammit, in a rational, godless universe ought never to have happened)--I must allow that my disquiet is probably not of the same order of magnitude of spiritual anguish as that of one who, while surveying the Grand Canyon, and bearing in mind (if he were not stupid) the hundreds of thousands and millions of years necessary for the laying down of geologic strata of limestone, might be attempting to shoehorn those ancient seabeds (in his imagination) into an earth supposedly less than seven thousand years old. That must hurt.
I burn hot. I tend to exhaust people in conversation, like Margaret Fuller did Carlyle. Which leaves me (but apparently not Margaret) always wishing I'd shut up sooner. I have quite a few friends and not many enemies, but I'm very proud of the few I do have. There is consensus among my friends about me, which is how I know to write about myself. What my enemies think of me I have no idea. That, of course, could be dangerous.
The list of interests and favorites is absurdly partial and half-assed, particularly as to music and books. It's the stupid format of the blog itself, as given, that, of course, I color outside the lines and burst the seams of.
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