From Carl Sagan To God ....

I spent the morning trying to locate a book for my Father which went out of print many moons ago. The book that is, not my father. It’s called “Knocknagow Or The Homes Of Tipperary”. This led to no end of problems when most shops I rang thought I had given them two separate book titles. My grandmother use to read it to my father and his siblings when they were young. Back before they had the electric light running water and inside toilets, back when God was a gossin’. He regaled me with snippets one of which was about an old man who gave a scutty wren a swipe of his cap and knocked a hat full of feathers out of him. This amused them no end when they were young laughing heartily at the notion of a scutty wren having sufficient feathers to fill a hat. Oh the crack they must have had. I found the book, well not so much found as ordered, good old Hodges Figgis. I’ve just finished reading “The Varieties Of Scientific Experience” by Carl Sagan which put the whole Christmas thing into perspective. We live on a pale blue dot, no more than a spec on a spec on a spec at the very outward edge of a vastly expanding universe which is mostly full of emptiness. It’s a wonderfully sobering and liberating realisation. I’m currently reading “Lamb – The Gospel According To Biff Christ’s Childhood Pal” which is very good and I’d highly recommend it. I bought the special edition which is leather bound, gold leaf edged and looks for all in the world like a brand new bible. When people see me reading it and laughing they tend to stare, I just look at them point at the book and say “fuck me this Jesus fella is as mad as a box of frogs”. If they continue to stare I tell them to “fuck away off or I’ll cunt you in the bastard”.