There is simply not enough intellectual depth amongst baboons to allow any significant baboon-technology to develop. I would want to live in a world were baboons are capable of managing their own airlines, but I’m afraid that this is not yet possible. Perhaps in the future we will see baboons change and become more technologically sophisticated, but I’m afraid that this might be far into the future.
They only fly if they are filled with helium, and I would argue that a helium-filled balloon does not fly, but rather levitates.
Flying, like walking or talking, is an active process and it requires some kind of mechanism built into the organism or machine to occur. A bird requires its wings and muscles to fly, and although some birds can make flying seem effortlessly simple, it is still a complicated process that has required at least dozens of years to evolve.
I don’t think it is controversial for me to suggest that balloons are incapable of active thought. Balloons are not sentient, and they are not designed with any mechanisms that allows flight. If you fill a balloon with a gas that is less dense than air, then that will result in the balloon being forced upwards. I consider the balloon to be a passive participant, and therefore it does not fly. It levitates.
I do not perceive myself as a glutton, but I must admit that sharing one cookie for two people seems absurdly stingy to me. I rarely choose to indulge myself with cookies, but if I do then I do want more than half a cookie. At least two, but the number could go up to around five. It obviously depends on the size of the cookie.
If you only have one cookie available, then I think you should keep it for yourself. I do not expect a one-cookie person to be generous.
I wonder what part of the body people imagine they are poking when they write *poke.* I do have a big body, and you have a lot of choices of areas to poke. I would prefer it if you avoid poking me in the eye, but that’s the only no-no area. Although, if you do have long fingernails (I imagine that most of my readers have long and manicured fingernails) I’d ask you to poke me softly.
I used to be quite opinionated about politics, and for a while, as a youngster, I genuinely thought that I could become a good politician. I had a few teachers agree, probably because I wouldn’t keep quiet during lessons. I have an inborn ability to talk for great lengths of time without actually saying anything.
But I realised later that I know very little about politics. I know my way around political philosophy and ideologies, but those aren’t relevant to the type of politics most politicians like. If a politician talks about ideology and what’s right and wrong, then that politician risks being precieved as aloof and intellectual. Voters prefer politicians to be gruff and practical.
It worries me when people treat political parties like as if they were sports teams. If you have a stubborn sense of devotion to your party, then you are useless as a voter. You should constantly question politicians, even if you like them. Politics is not a game.
I like to think of politicians as the groundskeepers of society. They are working for the people. And don’t listen to JFK; if there is one thing you ought to do, then that is to ask what your country can do for you.
I am not good at celebrating my own birthdays. In fact, I am not good at celebrations. If I could, then I would like to avoid any exhibitions of structured gaiety. I loathe the type of people who feel as if they can arrange happiness. The idea that certain dates has to be fun and joyous seems impossible to me. I don’t know what mood I will be in tomorrow so how could I possibly know what mood I will be in on my birthday?
All I need is a few presents and a modest cake. And love, if that’s available.
I’m by no means an expert in Star Wars lore, but aren’t Jedis just monks with superpowers? Now, superpowers are superb and could significantly improve my life, but I’m not sure if I’d be willing to abandon the ravenous womanising lifestyle that I am used to. Imagine all the women who would weep if they heard that I was off the market.
Now, there is a possibility that I might become a Jedi, but then betray the Jedi Order by going rogue. I could be a ravenous womaniser with superpowers.
Flen has a railway station, and I may have passed through that station a few times. Passing through a railway station hardly counts as visiting, but at least I am aware of Flen’s existence. Though, Flen will always be just a railway station for me. And if I am on a train, then I am likely to be travelling to a more exciting place. Flen isn’t very exciting. Although, I do like this song and it mentions Flen.
Your body is not disgusting, my anonymous dear. The vast majority of people might find your body unpalatable, but there ought to be a minority of people who could openly embrace your hideous and frightful body. Even if your skin is craggy, blistered and covered in small weeping wounds, there ought to be someone out there in the massive world willing to shower you with their love. Ugly people also love. There’s hope for you all.