Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Too heavy by half, I know. Too many mass murders. Too many problems without solutions. It’s been pretty heavy sledding for my thought processes lately. Thankfully there’s Adam’s BugMartini to lighten my mood.
Adam, your brain is most excellent. Your problem is that modern science, and the population at large, just don’t appreciate good comics. As soon as society and science see as much value in comics as they do in theoretical physics, you’ll be golden.
The Universe is like a Hot Pocket in that some of it is hot enough to be plasma, while other bits of it are only a few degrees above absolute zero, and most of it is dark matter that we simply can’t understand.
I think there’s a pattern emerging here. Bug does his best thinking when he’s slouching (apparently), and we all know what happens when he’s sitting down and you pass him a book…
OK, I’ll go for the obvious…
W.B Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Uh…yeaaaah. Okay. If you say so.
I’m pretty sure the relevant part is the last line. The rest is just good writing and adds context.
Too heavy by half, I know. Too many mass murders. Too many problems without solutions. It’s been pretty heavy sledding for my thought processes lately. Thankfully there’s Adam’s BugMartini to lighten my mood.
Adam, your brain is most excellent. Your problem is that modern science, and the population at large, just don’t appreciate good comics. As soon as society and science see as much value in comics as they do in theoretical physics, you’ll be golden.
LOL. I read that as “theatrical physics” and immediately thought about laser shows at a planetarium.
Funny, it made me think of Cirque de Sole, but then again I’m more of a Newtonian than a quantum mechanic.
The universe is like a Pop Tart in that neither one is very good for your health if eaten.
The universe is like a pop tart in that it makes a delicious breakfast and comes in several different flavors, of which S’mores is probably the best.
No , it is folded with a disappointing amount of sweet filling and the hot parts are far hotter than you could ever imagine.
The Universe is like a Hot Pocket in that some of it is hot enough to be plasma, while other bits of it are only a few degrees above absolute zero, and most of it is dark matter that we simply can’t understand.
The universe is like a pop tart: both are made primarily of matter.
I’m reminded of a wonderful website that sifts through Deepak Chopra’s tweets to randomly generate incoherent wisdobabble.
http://www.wisdomofchopra.com/
Enjoy!
I’m totally stealing “wisdobabble”.
After running that ten times, they all seemed plausible, except “Kittens are plants.” And I’m not even sure THAT’S wrong.
I want a whole series of strips delving further into Pop Tart Theory. It sounds fascinating.
The Universe is like a Pop Tart. God must have a toaster like mine – it has a pop tart setting.
I think there’s a pattern emerging here. Bug does his best thinking when he’s slouching (apparently), and we all know what happens when he’s sitting down and you pass him a book…
It’s not enough to slouch and theorize. You also have to be really really smart.
R.I.P, Mr Hawking š