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Writer's pictureCrone

Cross

This evening after a day of lectures (but no work), I felt awful. My head had been aching since I awoke - I'd gone to bed with a headache. It had got worse through the day. I'd tried painkillers and stretches and drinking a lot of water, but it was hammering.


It was a day I'd been looking forward to - Empirical Ethics - where philosophers admit that it matters what the context is and what people actually think. But they don't. Not my colleague on the course, at any rate: 'Who cares what a random group of people of the street think?' And you wonder why there's a disconnect between the public and experts. No one except philosophers can talk about ethics. They've been doing it for 2500 years at least and what have they come up with, for sure? Basically, most agree that mainly it's bad to murder, lie and steal. That's IT. Oh great, well done. Spend a fortune on an education, sit about in your fucking towers and then basically all they can agree on is something humans have thought is wrong since the Paleolithic hunter gatherers.


Self-satisfied WANKERS.


My dad called and I told him this and burst out crying, saying, 'If I could life to see the day when the human species is wiped out, I'd be happy. The hubris of this self-interested species that thinks it matters more because it's ration. What good has rationality ever done for anything apart from humans? No other species has threatened the future of life on this planet or been responsible for so much death and destruction. How can humans possibly think they matter? I hate them. I hate them. I can't wait til the end of the world.


'Oh and on a positive note,' I said, 'the May blossom smells amazing.'


My father laughed.


'It happens,' I said, ' that you're walking along and you can't see a hawthorn tree anywhere. But suddenly some eddy of the breeze surrounds you with perfume from a hidden source.' Then I burst into tears again. 'What human could ever do anything as wonderful as that?'


When I wiped my eyes, the salt dried in white streaks on my sleeve. I am Lot's wife. Unable to leave Sodom and Gomorrah.

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