Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Stephen Fry

"Who do you feel more sorry for? Who do you actually want to hug? The person you happen to know has a tumour, and is just getting through life not talking about it, smiling, trying not to embarrass anybody about it; or the kind of person who’s always going, “My leg, that went there, and then I had this pain here and the doctor didn’t know what to do about it, and I get these flashes --” Oh, Christ, I’m sure it’s terrible for you dear, but shut up! Now – of course we do our best and we feel sorry for all kinds of people and we, you know, show sympathy, but – the real heroism of people who quietly get on with their lives and think of others should be rewarded, and usually is by the fact that they are liked. And if you’re liked, people want to be with you, and if people want to be with you they share opportunities with you, and you observe the way they do things, and your life can open up, and there are opportunities everywhere."

"I suppose the thing I most would liked to have known, or been reassured about, is that in the world, what counts more than talent, what counts more than energy or concentration or commitment or anything else is kindness. The more in the world you encounter kindness -- and cheerfulness, which is its kind of amiable uncle or aunt – the more, just the better the world always is. And all the big words – virtue, justice, truth – are dwarfed by the greatness of kindness."

More meandering insight to be found here, or here.  (h/t No Sign At All)

Wave of Decrepitude

Well -- I gotta say, I have no idea what you do for a living, and neither do I have any idea what hobbies you enjoy in your spare time. Maybe you're a nurse, or a cut-man in a boxer's corner. Maybe you enjoy dumpster diving at the hospital, or perhaps you're a groupie with an odd assortment of souvenirs gleaned from your personal associations with rock stars. What I'm getting at is, I have no idea how many plaster casts you see in an average day, but as for me, I could probably go a good six months without seeing a single one -- and even then, I couldn't guarantee you that seeing that single plaster cast would make a big enough impression that I'd even vaguely remember it the next day. So, yesterday was a little odd -- I saw:

• one plaster cast on a broken wrist on a customer in a Subway at Vic Park and Danforth at about 4 in the afternoon;
• one on the arm of the driver in a car next to me on the 401;
• one on the arm of  patron outside a gas station convenience store just outside of Belleville;
• and yet one more on the arm of the clerk at the Burger King counter in Belleville at about 10:30 at night.

So, what I'm gathering from that (besides the fact that I eat juu-u-ust a little too much fast food), is that the average South Ontarian suddenly needs a whole lot more calcium in their diet. Weird.