I Was Censored

As the father of philosophical cynicism, it is not terribly surprising that some of the things I write aren’t greeted with enthusiasm. Recently, a number of them were discarded and didn’t get published. During my physical presence on earth millennia ago, I would have responded by urinating on the feet of my detractors. (Don’t believe me? Click here.) No longer having a corporeal presence, that is more difficult–that is to say, impossible.

In any case, I still find it difficult to accept that some of my writings have not been published. Apparently, it is because I speak the truth and your society no longer has an interest in the truth. To me, that is an amazing thing. How can you function?

If I walk through the forest and a tree is in my path, if I tell myself there is no tree, I would surely find myself on the ground, nursing a nasty bruise. Likewise, if I walk toward the sea and continue past the shore, I will eventually drown whether I admit the sea is there or not.

I am amazed by your disavowal of facts–absolutely amazed and it takes a lot to amaze me.

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