I have decided it is now time and I am establishing a new field of study that blends mathematics and political science, which I have named idiometry.
Simply put, idiometry allows one to measure just how close one can take the statements or promises if any politician and square them with the actual facts.
Then you repeat this for all of the statements of that politician and you inevitably find the square unattainable, there simply are no perfect squares yet achieved in idiometry, for no politician ever seen on a public stage hews perfectly to facts, always veering off into self interest or blatant ideology, so perhaps idiometry isn’t worth it, telling us what we already knew full well.
He can spend hours on the wooden bench in the small square in the center of the village. There he is but a statue, staring up at the giant clock face that looms over the square from the turret of the Village Hall. He likes to watch the long hand, arrowlike, make its slow, but inevitable movement, circling the blank outward gaze of the numerals. He does not care much for time, has too much of it some say, too little left, he knows. But here, as he stares fixedly, it stops. There is no motion in that instant, there is only the instant of time. It is no longer real, it is a thought lost or forgotten, and there is only the single moment in which he sits on the wooden bench in the center of the village.
It is an admittedly odd sign of my age that I recall clearly when bathrooms were tiled mostly in monochrome, black and white, and it was a mark of quality when each tile was hexagonal, a hive of ceramic cells, impenetrable.
Now tiles are square or rectangular, come in a rainbow of colors, often intermixed to achieve looks unimaginable back in my youth, and walls a painted with any color you can imagine, not the eighteen shades of white from which my parents had the choice for our new house.
But change can be for the better, and in proof of that you need only look around and see that bathroom fixtures are mostly white, occasionally black, not sickly green or peach, and, thank the gods, no one has avocado appliance these days.
Good night, Sisyphus try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day and you already know the rock will await you when you arise in the morning. I suppose by now you’ve come to realize there is no percentage in pissing off the Gods. Think of this as a personal re-education center where right thinking is the lesson of this and every other day. Did you really think they would let you stand in the middle of the Square openly mocking all of their edicts. Sleep old fellow, we have all the time in the world, it is one of the benefits of immortality.