"Somebody once wrote 'Hell is the impossibility of reason'. That's what this place feels like. Hell. "
Oliver Stone's remembrance of his younger self in the person of Platoon's Pvt. Chris Taylor makes this observation in a letter to his Grandma. He's talking about combat in Vietnam during the height of the war but I think we've all come across an 'impossibility of reason' in less traumatic circumstances.
I sometimes think life in a large corporate technology department is largely based on a variant of this premise (not that hell is the impossibility of reason but rather here is the impossibility of reason). We occasionally happen upon an oasis of sanity and that keeps us going. Or maybe we just imagine taking brief gulps of air before the current pulls us under again - maybe that's when we are really the farthest around the bend. I often don't know what side of the dividing line I fall on any given day. Perhaps if I had a Homer Simpson style "Sane" Certificate, I'd be more confident of my lucidity. But to be sure of that means I must be just as positive in the madness of those around me (admittedly, not a stretch).
What were those wise words Grace and the Third President's Flying Machine sang way back when in the good old days? Go Ask Alice, I think she'll know. Indeed. Even when the Red Queen's lost her head.
At least it sounds like Dick Cheney's going to be gainfully employed again.
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Too many frosty Longboard Island Lagers (some swill from the Kona Brewing Company) consumed last night at 8,400 feet had me mystified at what the 'Third President's Flying Machine' was referring to this morning... Visions of Monty Phython, but Grace and the lyrics snapped me out of the apparent fog I was in... Good stuff as always...
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