Deep Thoughts on Truth
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was trying to peruse the various blogs he enjoys reading. He hasn't had much time for reading of late. But for those of you more inclined towards abstract thought and philosophical questions you would do well to scoot over to Armavirumque for Roger Kimball's entry, A few thoughts about truth.
What makes this entry very timely for your Maximum Leader is that just this weekend Villainette Number 2 (the tomboy Villainette) asked him, "What's time?" To which your Maximum Leader, misunderstanding what she was asking replied something like, "Two thirty-five in the afternoon." (Your Maximum Leader always likes to add "in the afternoon" or "in the morning" or "at night" when addressing the time to his progeny. He's not sure why, but he does.) She responded, "No. What is time? Not what time is it." Your Maximum Leader thought for a moment and responded that time was "the hours and minutes we used to measure the day." While in the broadest philosphical sense that answer wasn't a good one; it was satisfactory for a five year old.
But it did get your Maximum Leader to think about abstractions like time, truth, and mathematical proofs.
Then your Maximum Leader poured himself a scotch and ceased to think deep thoughts. Instead allowing himself to ruminate on the smokey-ness of an undiluted glass of Ardbeg.
Carry on.
What makes this entry very timely for your Maximum Leader is that just this weekend Villainette Number 2 (the tomboy Villainette) asked him, "What's time?" To which your Maximum Leader, misunderstanding what she was asking replied something like, "Two thirty-five in the afternoon." (Your Maximum Leader always likes to add "in the afternoon" or "in the morning" or "at night" when addressing the time to his progeny. He's not sure why, but he does.) She responded, "No. What is time? Not what time is it." Your Maximum Leader thought for a moment and responded that time was "the hours and minutes we used to measure the day." While in the broadest philosphical sense that answer wasn't a good one; it was satisfactory for a five year old.
But it did get your Maximum Leader to think about abstractions like time, truth, and mathematical proofs.
Then your Maximum Leader poured himself a scotch and ceased to think deep thoughts. Instead allowing himself to ruminate on the smokey-ness of an undiluted glass of Ardbeg.
Carry on.
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