Of mice and men (Part I)

I am sitting here in a small darkened room four hours after my bedtime, while all round me goes on a circus that is common which has become regular if not mandatory in the circles in which I now currently move.

I am waiting to tell a story.

I do not know who said it, but man as an animal has a habit, of rationalizing and quickly adapting to situations. It's scary though. The question is whether the position he now adapts is tenable. That is something I am not seeing though.

So I sit here and think about Turing's theorom.

This is going to be a long expose to write on the process, perhaps a way of living which mad though it is, will dictate the lives of one hundred and eighty reasonably sane people, who cannot see beyond their nose. It is too long a story to be told in a single night. But it is a fantastic tale of not just tilting against windmills but against a fundamental distaste for rational thought.

Like I said,

I am waiting to tell a story...