It’s cold. It’s too hot. I hate the rain. When will it stop snowing? Where is the sun? Man it’s humid! Does any of this really matter?
Or as Emerson once stated, “We think it trivial to talk of the weather, yet there is nothing more important.”
Important? To whom? To all of us. Is the climate the same? Do we think we are as all empowered with access to the interweb thingy and media abounding in our environment? Are we all so vain as to think WE have control? As we evolved from the primordial ooze in an environment of acid air, putrid heat, and cosmic upheaval, perhaps we are destined to return.
Could we have stopped the terrestrial onslaught by evolving with polycanthi, hypocanthi, or the still argued upon coelacanth? Are we predisposed to destruction? Where are the religious zealots and naysayers explaining our destiny? Where is the modern day parter of the oceans to expose the reality of the undersea saviours?
When will Moses return in his Biker garb and drug lord fighting armour to show us the path to the top of the mountain? In 2000 years we have splayed and expurgated our genus. We have nothing to show for our labours but more debt, more disease, more starvation, and more of less. Who was the wizard who said, “more is less”? What pedigree was hosted by this Neanderthal?
The weather as predicted by the Almanac of repute is as accurate today as it was more than a hundred years ago, long before The Countess of Lovelace and her Babbage graced this firma. The analytical engine was just the precursor to Turing the world on a LCD screen as being possible. It was posited that, “It is possible to invent a single machine which can be used to compute any computable sequence.” Now who’da thunk that weather was a computation? Let alone that images were a computation. Most still don't.
Now that we have the portable as well as fixed state CPUs, the average Java-Head does not realize that as we use these devices, computations are being foisted upon the electron based desk space. No, it’s just some information being piped in as our municipal water is. And when we scroll away from a page or document, that the eternal golden sewer washes our info into the ethereal slough of data waste.
This is how our head swells. We scurry about on our virtual long-boards, through the clouds and stratosphere of the interweb thingy, and feel that we have actually gone somewhere and found something. Nope! Not have you not been, you really have not seen. And in some cases it’s better to be heard than not seen.
As with carry-on you need to reduce your Babbage and in turn reduce your footprint. Less toted about, amassed and stored, the more transparent and treading lightly you will be. Consistent weather depends on consistent usage. We change, it changes. We do less, it does less. Less of everything, the good and the bad. Our vanity regarding our power over the dynamics and physics of this orb matter not relative to the “Laws of science”.
Our input is generally GIGO. As is the refuse.
Mark Hull Du Calumet, first of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler.
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