Intolerance.

One of my more minor problems at the moment is that I’m becoming ever more intolerant of things malfunctioning. Things do, frequently. Everything does: everything malfunctions or degrades, or both, eventually – everything from a vacuum cleaner to a tree to a physical body to a mountain to the very sun without which we couldn’t function at all.

Why does it have to be that way? Why is the design of every aspect of material existence inherently flawed? Why can’t everything function perfectly and perpetually? Why is nothing safe from the state of flux?

If I asked a religionist he would tell me that it’s God’s will. I would ask him why. He would either tell me that he didn’t know because God’s will passeth all understanding, in which case I would ask how he could possibly know that it’s God’s will, or he would offer some piece of meaningless sophistry or a vacuous non-sequitur. And that would give me something else to be intolerant of.

And did I ever mention that I’m intolerant of sentences which end on a preposition?

Seriously, though, let’s get back to God. I’m tempted to suggest that maybe:

It’s God, Jim, but not as we know It.

… because things like that occur to me when I’m in a bad mood.