If you think a man juggling chainsaws would be relieved when they start running out of gas, you haven’t really asked yourself why a man juggles chainsaws in the first place.

If only this were a required attribute to be considered an “adult” of our species.

If someone from the past asked me what kind of culture we had in 2017, I’d explain how we sell fake books that people use to decorate their homes.

Nietzsche said that there are two types of people: those who want believe, and those who want to know.

More recently, it’s been suggested that the distinction between the two may be related to intelligence. Now I know how condescending that sounds, but think about how the mind works: stitching together a constant stream of information coming from the senses and presenting it to us in a form that becomes our individual “reality”.

Where the brain cannot stich together information from the senses, it relies on memory, or knowledge. It fills in the gaps as best it can to create the illusion of something solid, so we can make decisions that will keep us alive.

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So you’re unhappy with how the past year played out. The people elected a tacky, crass demagogue whose grade-school language winks at racism in his speeches and incites bigotry and xenophobia. And emboldened by his example, the volume of other ugly voices has been dialed up to eleven on our cultural speakers.

It’s like half the country is embracing the worst stereotypes the rest of the Western world holds about Americans, and embroidering them on Chinese-made red ball caps.

So what are you going to do about it, cuck?

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What good is the study of philosophy if any conclusions or ideas that come of it never reach the minds of the masses?

Sure, things trickle-down and diffuse through the memescape or zeitgeist or other $2 word to describes the cloud of culture that loosely connects all human thought.

But what is truly the point of seeking insight if only a handful of people will ever benefit from it directly?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to just spend one’s time learning how to build a better mousetrap? It’s not like the people running the planet are guided by the kind of philosophical thought that holds up to actual scrutiny by people who think critically and dispassionately.

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Star Agent, Grade Zero, B’ama sat at the hidden terminal in his office, ready to write his final report back to galactic headquarters. The interface hummed as his fingers entered the type-field and he smiled to himself –he’d really done it, the toughest mission of his soon-to-be-legendary career.

You magnificent bastard, he thought. I’ll bet they give you your own moon after this.

Only a few hours left before could leave this primitive backwater and return to civilization. Might as well get to it:

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When my daughter was four, she flat-out asked if Santa was made up. And of course, being me, I told her the truth.

We all know the basic arguments both for and against teaching your child to believe in a morbidly obese chimney burglar from the Arctic. Each boils down to whether or not you feel Belief itself is a good thing. And I’ve always tended to side with the rational over the irrational.

But then I ran into this piece of dialogue in a book by Terry Pratchett, that makes a solid case for teaching your child to believe in St. Nick, or in the world he was writing about, the “Hogfather”. The voice in all caps, belongs to Death himself:

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Emotions are like bare asses: some people may appreciate seeing yours, everyone else is going to be uncomfortable.

That said, I’m genuinely happy right now.