Inspired by, and partly in response to, an exchange on the lovely a’s blog, today’s first thought comes from Bertrand Russell, from his short essay, "On Induction": “A horse which has been often driven along a certain road resists the attempt to drive him in a different direction. Domestic animals expect food when they see the person who usually feeds them. We know that all these rather crude expectations of uniformity are liable to be misleading. The man who has fed the chicken every day throughout its life at last wrings its neck instead, showing that more refined views as to the uniformity of nature would have been useful to the chicken.”
It is perhaps, true as well that more refined views would be useful to farmers, as well:
Farm Worker Attacked by Herd of Pigs
It is perhaps, true as well that more refined views would be useful to farmers, as well:
Farm Worker Attacked by Herd of Pigs
posted by Lady Bonds at 22:29
9 Comments:
This farmer, on the other hand, had an extremely pragmatic approach to nature, as did her none too altruistic neighbors:
http://www.tribuneindia.com/2003/20030419/main8.htm
Meow.
Dammit. That's
http://www.tribuneindia.com/2003/
20030419/main8.htm
Duchess; This is why I want to be a journalist.
it's all an Orwellian metaphor....
Hello.
Now I understand why I expect a cup of coffee and sex (not necessarily in that order or contiguously) when I see my husband.
If I one day turn up with a broken neck, I guess it's only what one could have expected.
Thank you and Godspeed.
Here is your Custom Avatar.
Oh yeah, how do I get to be a duchess?
a; Orwell, Schmorwell. He can poop on himself. I'm talking Hobbes, here. (And not only the tiger).
Ms. O’Brien; Apparently you are unfamiliar with the post-coital Mug of Joe. What kind of man is he that he can’t heat up some water and beans at the same time he heats YOU up? Tell him to get his act together.
Zen; You are my hero. See next post.
Ms. O'Brien; Hmm. You wish to be a duchess. I shall have to defer to the actual-factual duchess on this one, but in the meantime I can tell you that coming from small-town Ohio helps immensely. Do you play the banjo? Do you eat applesauce through a straw?
Duchess; Meow.
Profound words, Lady Bonds. As ever. Sometimes though, in incentivising equine beasts, one can find outself feeling like the metaphorical carrot on the proverbial stick.
And this is a proverbial cloud with a proverbial silver lining.
By the way, Bertie Russell was a silly old fool who was by far cerebraly surpassed by his young protege, soon to become nemisis, L. Wittgenstein.
Though he undoubtedly slept easier at night than young Ludwig...
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