Hamburgers versus Existentialism – The Final Showdown

Some questions demand an answer. In this category, I’d include the queries ‘What time is it?’, ‘Who are you?’ and, of course, ‘Do you know the way to San Jose?’. Then there are other questions we end up spending our whole lives trying to answer. ‘Why are we here?’, ‘Does my existence in an infinite universe really matter?’ and ‘Exactly when did Shane Warne start looking like a police identikit picture?’. But there is a third category. These are questions that demand not so much an answer as another question. Or, if not a further inquiry, then the kind of silence that only deep, deep space can rival. Into that category, I would put the following: Would you like that in a meal?
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A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Beyond a toothbrush and a sturdy pair of shoes, there’s little in life that is truly essential. Except, perhaps, a good pair of sunglasses. When I was a kid, the sun was considered a force for good. As time has gone on, it has been regarded less as the giver of life and warmth as it has a giant death orb that is trying to destroy human civilization as we know it. Between climate change, heat waves and the tyranny of daylight savings, people today must take all the precautions they can against this rampaging celestial predator.
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The Real Reason Angels Play the Harp

If music be the food of love, brace yourself for the worst meal of your life. I have taken up the violin. To just under my chin, as it happens. I had seen other people play the instrument and, to be honest, it looked pretty simple. It only has four strings. How hard could it be? Nero was useless as Emperor of Rome but even he could knock out a decent tune on the fiddle. I should have been up and running within minutes. As I prised the instrument from its case and lifted the bow, I readied myself to unleash a flood of beautiful music on an expectant world…
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The Tale of a Christmas Turkey

Saturday, November 17. That was the auspicious day on which I encountered my very first Christmas Carol for the year. I had made a dash for the local supermarket and was engaged in the eternal struggle that is ‘white versus multi-grain’ when I heard the mordant tones of ‘Joy to the World’ wafting through the aisles like a giant dose of audio flatulence. Christmas may well come but once a year, but apparently no such restriction applies to Christmas Carols.
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