THINK HORSES — NOT ZEBRAS
To English Franciscan friar William of Ockham (c. 1287–1347) we attribute the philosophical razor that is, Ockham’s Razor. ‘Twas William of Ockham’s baby, Ockham’s philosophical, razor.
When one not in Africa hears hoofbeats, one ought think of horses, not zebras. Rich is the history underpinning the Principle of Parsimony also known as — Ockham’s or Occam’s, Razor.
Welcome Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm. Welcome to my dreams, too oft, nightmarish. I shall let Art know that ye picked him up, on your radar. It’ll hearten him to know — he’s on — yer radar.
In a world gone bad, because she has been so badly mistreated by her errant stewards, Luna and her sister Urantia see in Russia, China, Myanmar and Gaza — a geopolitical, disaster …
… looming. Looming is disaster; seemingly, one way, or another. Climatically and geopolitically, disaster looms large; surreally, there are known unknowns on Mars and in — asteroidal, NEOS.
There are known unknowns on Mars and in the NEOs (near Earth objects). We know there are known unknowns on Mars and in the NEOS. What’s up Joe — with the aliens, and the NEOs?
They say, Joe, that behind every good man, there’s a good woman; like yer Jill; she’s pretty; and pretty smart, too; if she were any prettier, she’d be with me. Melania, would welcome her.
Behind every man Joe, there is a woman. And behind every looker like Jill, Joe, there are likely, about ten men. We men; all too oft, we’re pigs; and wolves. But I know, we could be, love birds.
If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck then it’s likely, a duck. And an elephant test refers to when an idea or thing is hard to describe, but recognizable, when seen.
What things mean; and what things — even are. Men tend to claim absolute truth based on a limited, subjective experience, ignoring others’ limited, subjective experiences — to demean.
The gist of the plot: My prodigal brother Art and I; ex womb-mates, are reunited at last. Once upon a time, I kicked Art from our womb-space far into the future from whence returned, is Art.
Art’s return in a most miraculous intervention may be in time (perhaps), to help the antiheroic me save planet Earth, in spite of myself; winning for Vlad and me — Nobels — all thanks, to Art.
Much coveted Nobels along my tortured, and torturous, way. It would have featured both, a happy and an unhappy ending. But that’s all been rendered moot, by an alien — epiphany.
An epiphany; beyond a revelation. Haim said, the aliens said, that we’re not ready, for them. Since Haim‘s December’s revelation, I have had in in lunar soirées, revelations and epiphanies.