17th March 2020

Our present surreal existence, our plight as were, represents an unquestionable travesty of Jheronimus van Aken’s, commonly known as Hieronymus Bosch, late fifteenth century allegoric foreshadowing triptych altarpiece ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ presently housed in the Museo de Prado, Madrid, España.

Those of you with more than casual observation skills will have noted me oft wearing a silver-based pair of Dr. Martin boots regaled with the very same pessimistic illustration.

I am ever amazed how very specific my usage of verbiage tends to be. I recall I have previously pointed out my methodology for creating adapting and transcribing words. Initial dictation is bold and expansive, words and phrases flowing in almost anarchical freedom picked it would seem from apparent thin air, yet always following some mysterious pre-ordained pattern.

Transcription is done by a remarkable but wholly confusing electronic gizmo. that listens intently to oft obtuse procrastinations, proclaimed in an all but indecipherable accent, and manages to turn the hodgepodge into a script, sometimes sensible but on occasion in a style that begs if the program has before heard one syllable of my native tongue.

The last step is a final visual edit, a matter you could rightly assume should be simplicity itself, the previous two stages having taken care of all the heavy sifting and sorting.

I am ever surprised how from the distance of two feet from a screen diatribe will often take on a wholly different appearance, context and connectivity than its original purpose.  Words and phrases when spoken can seem wholly appropriate, but when digitally transcribed are inclined not to invoke the same sense or compatibility. Both speaking and writing are reliant upon flavor, essence, subtlety and aromatic infusion, but the sauce that works with the one does not necessarily present the other to its best advantage.

I am not personally a touchy-feely sort of person when reacting to or recognizing others, finding the simplest of head nods a more than adequate form of greeting to a male, with a more expansive and expressive formal acknowledgement necessarily reserved and provided for a lady.  That these highly acceptable forms of public recognition have passed out of general use and fashion, the methodology avoiding both unwarranted and unnecessary physical contact and clearly eliminating any risk of infection, might now, quite justifiably, need reexamination.

Perhaps ninety nine percent of all my contacts with other homo sapiens take place through the front window of their motor vehicles as they speed past my meandering and often irregular progress alongside the roadways of our fair isle. I am ever inclined to give a defined nod to driver and passengers, accompanied by, weather permitting, a warm smile as my half side of the social contract we must all as human beings accept, honor and if necessary endure. The reappraisal and wholesale reemergence of such simplistic forms of interaction, nonverbal, unassuming, distancing whilst still personal, quite possibly direct to an avenue that avoids or at least minimized the worst excesses and unfortunate consequences of more ebullient greetings. How highly appropriate that our antecedents via the reimplementation of their seeming antiquated social mannerisms might reinstate historical health norms that have till recently been vigorously enjoyed.

Is it truly necessary for us all to be personally obligated to re-appraise both Frank Herbert’s remarkable Dune series and  Winston Churchills numerous speeches and essays concerning  the History of the English Speaking Peoples to reach the unavoidable and wholly self-evident conclusion that fear itself is indeed the only thing mankind ever needs to fear.

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