It’s not what you do, or even the way you do it, that matters... so much as when you do it. Everything is slave to the clock and the calendar, everything victims and beneficiaries of Old Father Time. A brilliant plan today would have failed yesterday; a disaster last week would have been a triumph next week. The Titanic did not sink because it hit an iceberg – it sank because it hit an iceberg at precisely the moment it did. An extraordinary sequence of events all had to come together in exactly the right order and in exactly the right times in order for that ship to hit that iceberg in that place and at that second in such a way that it would sink. A fraction out anywhere down the line and she would have steamed into New York a triumph of man’s dominion over nature. The statistical probability of precisely what happened actually happening was infinitesimal. And yet, sink she did.
The same principle applies to literally everything that has ever happened. Careful planning and attention to detail matter... but timing is everything. Some things you can predict; others are subject to nothing but the rising and setting of the sun and moon. It’s the one fundamental constant of all existence.
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This is the age of the slogan, the soundbite, the snappy phrase in place of considered argument. Thought is dying; reason’s gone critical. In bookshops and magazine racks we’re told only what we want to hear: we’re told it in neat, bullet-pointed affirmations of our own worth.
No more. This is the fightback. The resuscitation. This is the slogan as explainer of the world. One a day for a year. Three hundred and sixty five phrases, soundbites and bullet points with which to make sense of the way things are now and point to how things could be tomorrow. Read them and weep.
Defining the age through a slogan a day
This is the age of the slogan, the soundbite, the snappy phrase in place of considered argument. Thought is dying; reason’s gone critical. In bookshops and magazine racks we’re told only what we want to hear: we’re told it in neat, bullet-pointed affirmations of our own worth.
No more. This is the fightback. The resuscitation. This is the slogan as explainer of the world. One a day for a year. Three hundred and sixty five phrases, soundbites and bullet points with which to make sense of the way things are now and point to how things could be tomorrow. Read them and weep.
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