The mind and the machine are my tooth and claw defying all to oppose my thumb. You make your claim of natural blades, and you have a point, but I can make pointer points still. I can send them out at will. My hands may be weak, but yours are empty. I fill mine up with thoughts more dangerous than your teeth.
We live a different life, painting history with different strokes, because of these machines. With twenty cellular phones and a reliable anachronistic network you could rule the Middle Ages. Imagine Columbus with GPS. A parachute for Icarus. Nero on Prozac.
"I think in heaven there won't be machines," he said. "I think there will only be natural things. That will be nice."
"I hope there are refrigerators and microwaves and air conditioning and televisions and iPods and computers," she said. "That would be nice too."
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
P. S. - Aphter: 22. Thanks for stopping by.
