The Combination Of Modern Ordnance And Outdated

Dead Air' Is Full Of Rants; It's A Rant-based Book. Yes, It's Self-indulgence. I Plead Guilty; Mea Culpa.

Our Lives Are About Development, Mutation And The Possibility Of Change; That Is Almost A Definition Of What Life Is: Change... If You Disable Change, If You Effectively Stop Time, If You Prevent The Possibility Of The Alteration Of An Individual's Circumstances — And That Must Include At Least The Possibility That They Alter For The Worse — Then You Don't Have Life After Death; You Just Have Death.

In So Much Of Politics You're Not Allowed To Disagree With What's Been Agreed.

But It Was Pointless, It Was Stupid; He Thought About Thoughtless Things. If I Were A Seabird . . . But How Could You Be A Seabird? If You Were A Seabird Your Brain Would Be Tiny And Stupid And You Would Love Half-rotted Fish Guts And Tweaking The Eyes Out Of Little Grazing Animals; You Would Know No Poetry And You Could Never Appreciate Flying As Fully As The Human On The Ground Yearning To Be You. If You Wanted To Be A Seabird You Deserved To Be One.

...and I Confess That, Like A Child, I Cry. Ah, Self-pity; I Think We Are At Our Most Honest And Sincere When We Feel Sorry For Ourselves.