Creation is an activity best left to God. Any worthwhile science fiction novel can tell you that much. But we humans are an obstinate bunch. We insist that we are capable of creating original thought. We attempt to prove this through new inventions, new religons, and more new boy bands than any one person could begin to shake a stick at.
No matter how hard we try, anything that the human race accomplishes is merely a rearrangement of the original elements of nature established long before our time. But still we persevere. And we continue to embellish our illusions of grandeur by sealing the deal with a namesake.
A dinky yellow cloth was nothing but a dinky yellow cloth until some idiot called it a ShamWow! And that Halfrican (half African) in the Oval Office would have been just some President if not for the bozo who decided to name said Halfrican after the 3 men on the FBI's most wanted list. And a rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but it wouldn't be a rose anymore, now would it?
I have a full share in this futility. My blog posts are often written with little to no regard for the content; I want simply to insert enough words into the body of the post to warrant an interesting title.
Confessions of a blogger with ulterior motives. So sue me.
Sue me now.
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