Items overheard on BBC radio this morning: Japan is forbidding entry to anyone with tattoos; and Argentina is suffering a plague of beavers, a non-native species that has has changed water drainage patterns sufficiently that native plant species are going locally extinct. All this comes hot on the heels of Trump winning the US presidential election, and I take it to be further evidence of space-time dimensional slips that have us careening from one progressively less adjacent parallel universe to the next. And it’s clear that our pilots, such as they are—all the pundits and policymakers—have little idea where we are now, how we got there or what it all means.
Years ago I determined that God had hired a new cosmic scriptwriter, and Mel Brooks was his name. Now we know that once again God in His Heaven is bored, and He has said, “Entertain me, Mel. Really. Or start looking for a new job.”