We’re All Scumbags
I just heard some painful news from a real good friend. It reminds me how we’re ALL scumbags in this world. Every last one of us. At least it seems that way sometimes. There are more broken promises in human history than molecules in a mountain.
I’m still quite uncertain what it all means. Something about the selfish gene, no doubt. But why is my heart so appalled at the cold truth? The truth that love is at best a biological process, bathing the mind in happy chemicals, triggered by mundane zoological cues as we move about in the herd, thinking much but thinking only, when the chips are down, of ourselves.