My cold is leaving me the way that winter says goodbye
Left behind are dirty pools, crevices and broken twigs inside.
I spent most of
Sunday writing down ideas for the essay that would be due in eight days. The
point for which I hope to make a good argument is that the more attributes we
give to god the less probable god is. So if, like Kierkegaard, one believes
that god is a loving, omniscient creator that is interested in human beings,
those are already four factors dragging down on the probability of god. I
compare it to a room someone has rented but has never seen. The most probable
scenario for which the renter can hope, if they haven’t been deceived about the
existence of the room, is that the room will have a ceiling, a floor, four
walls and a door. That the room will have light is also possible but slightly
less probable. That the room will have light and heat together is less probable
than if it were to only have light, and so on.
That night I looked
out the window and saw the shouting bag lady with her pants down, relieving
herself on the sidewalk behind her cart. She was hidden from the donut shop
window, but fully exposed to traffic. I’m starting to wonder if she would be
better off in a care facility, as long as it was care in every sense.
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