Luctus temporalis
One of the things that annoys me about the fact that in all probability I won't live for ever is that it means I won't get to see all the crazy shit those space-age futuristas will come up with. Mostly the time machines. Example: only yesterday, a moment of genuine sadness overcame me when, while warming up some nice thick pea and ham soup, I glanced at my cooker and felt a real pang of regret that I might never be able to pop back to a carefully-tended Palæolithic fireside, wrest a caveman's attention from the dancing shadows cast by its oh-so-hard-won flames, zap him back to my futuristic lair and show him a god-damned GAS HOB. I mean, imagine the look on his face while I'm just standing there, switching it on, and off, and on, and off. Maybe casually scorching some paper, a candle, a sabre-tooth steak; you know, just making the point. On, again; once more, off. And hey! Look! I switched it on again! Yeah! How'd you like them apples, Cavey? He'd go batshit, I'm telling you.
Luctus temporalis
One of the things that annoys me about the fact that in all probability I won't live for ever is that it means I won't get to see all the crazy shit those space-age futuristas will come up with. Mostly the time machines. Example: only yesterday, a moment of genuine sadness overcame me when, while warming up some nice thick pea and ham soup, I glanced at my cooker and felt a real pang of regret that I might never be able to pop back to a carefully-tended Palæolithic fireside, wrest a caveman's attention from the dancing shadows cast by its oh-so-hard-won flames, zap him back to my futuristic lair and show him a god-damned GAS HOB. I mean, imagine the look on his face while I'm just standing there, switching it on, and off, and on, and off. Maybe casually scorching some paper, a candle, a sabre-tooth steak; you know, just making the point. On, again; once more, off. And hey! Look! I switched it on again! Yeah! How'd you like them apples, Cavey? He'd go batshit, I'm telling you.