Possessed of a long and fickle memory, which permits me to recall every sin I ever committed, and more sins beside, I have a confession to make. I'm neither Jewish nor Catholic. And my memory sucks. So the one, individual sin, some venial failure, perhaps only a slighted acknowledgement of sensible virtue, acquires legs - black, long, and hairy - which then migrate, spider-like, into ethical realms inaccessible to rational analysis. At which point I can recall, with perfect clarity, sins which I could not possibly have committed.
But where was I?
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. To those of you who contribute to these pages and to those who merely find them amusing.
I always complain that Showdown isn't as high-brow as it should be. Apropos of Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling, it would be a mistake to pig out at Thanksgiving.
Man ist was er isst. You are what you eat? Let moderation rule. I have myself, many times, re-awakened from a Thanksgiving dinner in late afternoon, and having returned to sentience plucking feathers from my own skin, only then discovered the Dallas Cowboys on TV, or as often their opponents, similarly engaged, plucking off their own feathers in rage and humiliation. Would this be the wrong time for me to boast of my superior breast meat?
I don't know why I associate that pun with Schelling. You are what you eat? Schelling was post-Kantian, and the phrase must have been ages old before Schelling arrived, at the beginning of the 19th Century.
Good pluck to the Cowboys and their opponents this Thanksgiving (no injuries, please). Best wishes to you, Scaratings members and visitors alike, your friends, and your families, and to anyone else this message may prayerfully reach.
Yours from Mouse Hollow
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