T Fox: I wonder if I would have been able to help that Arizonian Googler, trying to find an answer to his question "slippery road, horse stuck?" from my blog.
Mr Time: It's too late. He won't come back.
T Fox: Hopefully the horse is fine.
Mr Time: Don't know about that, but you aren't.
T Fox: Oh, it's you. I have something to ask.
Mr Time: Go on, then. I've got plenty of time, unlike you.
T Fox: Well, that is bit related to my question. How come time flies?
Mr Time: You couldn't invent more unoriginal question, could you?
T Fox: Remember, before I was 30, I thought I could do anything I'd want. You know, have time for everything and similiar.
Mr Time: Yes. And?
T Fox: When I had the cubs, I thought I could go on with my previous life when they get bit older...
Mr Time: And you figured out you can't.
T Fox: Well, it takes still 14 years until A is 18... and I am then [counts vigorously] 48!
Mr Time: And then somebody's probably pondering would you prefer a table clock or a week in Las Palmas as your 50th Birthday present.
T Fox: Stop it!
Mr Time: Okay [sulks]
T Fox: I was just wondering if that really was right, that Do it today, not tomorrow-thing?
Mr Time: More clichés? Yes that is true. Remember how you didn't have that portrait taken of you when you were around your twenties?
You thought you'd look exactly the same for long enough to...
T Fox: [sigh]
Mr Time: And now your future grandchildren will think you have always looked like a mixture of a citrus fruit and a fat onion.
T Fox: [sigh]
Mr Time: Remember how you promised your son you'd do that finger painting tomorrow?
T Fox: Yes..
Mr Time: And after that tomorrow, it was again tomorrow, and after that tomorrow you said tomorrow...
T Fox: Okay. I got it. I have to do that before it's too late. Before he is too old and all he wants to paint are some tags on the trains... I will do it tomorrow.
Mr Time: No you won't.
T Fox: Excuse me?
Mr Time: It's too late. Tomorrow you can't paint anymore.
T Fox: What?
Mr Time: Nor can you have a splish splash in the water. Or dig any soil without gloves. You can forget the gardening now.
T Fox: That can't be true. Or can it?
But time didn't tell.
About posthumanism - I’m reading Katherine Hayles’s How We Became Posthuman (which Blogger turns into *“Postman”*, which is nice, and sexist), and came across this on Twitter a...
5 days ago