Time, like year-end commentaries, are convenient constructions to help us make sense of our lives. In the great scheme of things -- or, in The Great Scheme of Things, as you prefer -- both make little difference. It's not that they don't matter; they do. Both require great patience to endure, and both direct our wooly thoughts here and there, willy-nilly.
Distractions explode, pop, and stutter in the mind. This is especially true if, like me, your concentration and mental discipline are not what they once were. Digesting a few recent tidbits in the news has proven tougher on my stomach than freeze-dried ostrich or owl jerky.
For example: In the last week, via media reports, I've bumped into various aspects of God, Santa Claus, Fox News, Albert Einstein, and Pope Francis. In a move displaying little to no apparent evolutionary advantage, my mind insists on turning these random exposures into patterns -- in this case, jokes of the sort which always begin with a long, convoluted list of people and animals all walking into a bar...
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