Not Banana
2+2 = 4 (in base 10). This, we know to be true.
Now, if someone says 2+2 = Banana, we know that is false. This is not useful, and it should not be relied upon. Furthermore, if someone says that the banana conclusion that you have come to is not useful, that is not a political statement. That is a simple matter of fact. If you insist that 2+2 = Banana, and someone points out that your reasoning is lacking, that is not a political statement. That is a simple matter of fact.
If you later make the correction and state that 2+2 = 4, and not Banana, you can not logically blame anyone else for your false conclusion, or dissemination of that bad information. 2+2 = 4 (in base 10) is an immutable fact. It can’t not be altered, adjusted, or changed in any way by politics, perspective, or intention. It can either be grasped and communicated accurately, or not.
Covid-19 is a virus which requires the separation of people to slow and eliminate the growth of this pandemic. If you have said otherwise, like Gov. DeSantis of Florida, or Donald Trump, village idiot of the Milky Way Galaxy, you are wrong. That is an immutable fact. That fact has nothing to do with the motivations of those who oppose you. Wrong is wrong. 2+2 is not equal to Banana.
Ron Powell
04/03/2020 @ 4:47 am
“Never argue with stupid people. They will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”
——Mark Twain
Bitey
04/03/2020 @ 6:33 am
“Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” It is usually accompanied by a veiled insult from the poster and an image of a stern and stately Mark Twain, long the go-to guy for apocryphal maxims. This particular quote seems to be derived from Proverbs: “Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto him” (26:4). As with many of Twain’s own lessons, however, this is immediately followed by a reversal: “Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own conceit” (26:5).
Regardless of the quote’s origins, its sentiment is echoed in Twain’s “The Privilege of the Grave,” a short piece, written in 1905, that appears in Who is Mark Twain?, a posthumous collection of the satirist’s unfinished and unpublished works. “As an active privilege,” Twain says, “[free speech] ranks with the privilege of committing murder: we may exercise it if we are willing to take the consequences.” The main difference between the two? “Murder is sometimes punished, free speech always.” As a result, Twain suggests writing one’s true thoughts down and uttering them only from the grave. Fittingly, Twain specified that his autobiography was not to be published until 100 years after his death. (This request was honored, and the first volume of the book was published in 2010.)”
Ron Powell
04/03/2020 @ 9:24 am
Yes, in many ways, Twain was “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma”.
But then, I doubt that Winston Churchill was personally acquainted Samuel Clemens….
Bitey
04/03/2020 @ 6:05 am
jpHart
04/03/2020 @ 5:30 pm
‘…the future starts here”
Just boys and me once saw Andy Pafko at full speed charge that lofty fungo from deep center—summersault impossible glove-heel catch.
Capless he stood, held the ball—an ovation roars…as though 50,000 lions full-lunged.!
…O lotioned Puff…!
…one must think…
Nowadays buds wounded warrior and me: Let’s name him Ruby’s friend. Exchanging notes.. His legs of no use…last ounce of courage…many here among us…now read this, now read this!
Y’all as adroit as Napoleon and rags, Bitney.
Such a TALLYMAN.
Wow your songs o’
DAYGLOW
these dark sacred nights o’
!DAY-0!
Bitey
04/03/2020 @ 7:12 pm
Do you like birch beer?
jpHart
04/10/2020 @ 12:36 pm
Next thing (as you may know) Fernando hears the steel drum agape at Jesus’ outstretched concrete arms (aerial) São Paulo.
Liberty is all I had. Play it out just once more. Poignant youtube clip Where Have All the Flowers Gone. She said no I work at night.
Puzzles at home for a small fee; only time will tell. ‘Yo! That I must click-chick-magnet blue suedes.
And may God Bless Stephen Hawking and his whiteboard. Pyramids along the Nile. Next morning in bright orange shackled he was at last
back at the coffee counter the blind man’s seeing eye dog asleep on his paws as though we were in that sunlit trench singing Silent Night.