I don’t know why
Not sure what’s going on with my brain, writing all this stuff, but it’s interesting I suppose to trace the mindworkings – first I read an article on Online Opinion written by a sceptic on the theme of science one day being able to explain religion, a theme guaranteed of course to get up the noses of the godbotherers, and while trawling through the voluminous comments (and adding two or three of my own) I come upon references to the supposed conversion of Anthony Flew, which I first read about in Philosophy Now. So (short sentences please) I do a spot of surfing to see what gives with Flew. I read his interview with Habermas. I visit some critical bulletin boards. This issue about evolution and the origin of life gets me hooked. I agree with the critics that it doesn’t seem much of a reason to overturn the thinking of a near lifelong atheist. I’m amazed for example that, though his principal reason for embracing deism is that he can’t see any explanation for life apart from a god, he’s not up at all on the latest work concerning life’s origins. Sounds chumpy to me. Back to short sentences. So, while waiting for Flew to provide a fuller formulation of his position (I’m not holding my breath), I’ve decided to check out the latest myself. Which explains my last post.
Meanwhile I await with dread the outcome of my job application. I hand over the co-op’s cheque book and requisition forms to the new assistant treasurer, explaining to him what needs to be done. I watch my colchicums coming spectacularly up in the front garden. I urge my charge to clean his teeth and all the rest. I jog around the oval in the evenings. I stare with true awe at the female form on the internet. I read a flurry of disconnected and occasionally incomprehensible science articles. I attend job search training with great reluctance, and afterwards wander around great fantasybarn shopping centres. I watch Jekyll and Hyde once more, and Russian Ark and A gun, a car, a blonde (which I find more or less fatally flawed by a typically American take on the rich and the poor, the successful and the unsuccessful).
Meanwhile I await with dread the outcome of my job application. I hand over the co-op’s cheque book and requisition forms to the new assistant treasurer, explaining to him what needs to be done. I watch my colchicums coming spectacularly up in the front garden. I urge my charge to clean his teeth and all the rest. I jog around the oval in the evenings. I stare with true awe at the female form on the internet. I read a flurry of disconnected and occasionally incomprehensible science articles. I attend job search training with great reluctance, and afterwards wander around great fantasybarn shopping centres. I watch Jekyll and Hyde once more, and Russian Ark and A gun, a car, a blonde (which I find more or less fatally flawed by a typically American take on the rich and the poor, the successful and the unsuccessful).
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