A word in defense of Jabba
Yes, a word in defense of Jabba. He won’t like it, but here goes:
Why does he keep rolling and tumbling this topic over and over, never coming to a conclusion? The answer is simple: Fear.
He wants to be a good religious believer and, like a little child, love his cult and wrap it around him as his days (like mine) grow shorter. But doubt, inspired by a healthy incredulity, just won’t go away; disbelief, like King Charles’s head, keeps somehow getting into it. That scares him, as it does any religious person who suffers from flashes of sanity.
As we know from the immortality thread, loss of faith, for Jabba, means the loss of eternal life; it means facing the reality of annihilation. He’s recently said that if somebody can prove that there’s no blood on the Shred of Turin* he’ll “give up the ghost.” That’s a telling phrase: in ordinary speech, it means to die.
Yes, to die. If you aren’t afraid of death – and somebody here is bound to declare that he isn’t – then Jabba and I will just have to admit that we differ from you.
But if primitive animal fear impels him to keep cranking the handle of his religious hash-grinder, going over over OVER the same old stuff, then there I’m happy to say that I differ from him, while feeling a kind of distant sympathy and pity.
Am I speaking only for myself?
*That’s a disrespectful thing to call it. Isn’t it?
Yes, a word in defense of Jabba. He won’t like it, but here goes:
Why does he keep rolling and tumbling this topic over and over, never coming to a conclusion? The answer is simple: Fear.
He wants to be a good religious believer and, like a little child, love his cult and wrap it around him as his days (like mine) grow shorter. But doubt, inspired by a healthy incredulity, just won’t go away; disbelief, like King Charles’s head, keeps somehow getting into it. That scares him, as it does any religious person who suffers from flashes of sanity.
As we know from the immortality thread, loss of faith, for Jabba, means the loss of eternal life; it means facing the reality of annihilation. He’s recently said that if somebody can prove that there’s no blood on the Shred of Turin* he’ll “give up the ghost.” That’s a telling phrase: in ordinary speech, it means to die.
Yes, to die. If you aren’t afraid of death – and somebody here is bound to declare that he isn’t – then Jabba and I will just have to admit that we differ from you.
But if primitive animal fear impels him to keep cranking the handle of his religious hash-grinder, going over over OVER the same old stuff, then there I’m happy to say that I differ from him, while feeling a kind of distant sympathy and pity.
Am I speaking only for myself?
*That’s a disrespectful thing to call it. Isn’t it?
