I was thinking, recently, of how people who disbelieve in science are annoying (COVID is real, ya fucktards), but also how equally annoying are those who fetishize it. The latter, of course, seems to be the de rigueur attitude among those who wish to seem enlightened, but it certainly seems obvious that science, as a general concept, is no more worthy of admiration than its opposite (whatever that may properly be termed… it’s not superstition, mind you; science has its own superstitions).
Science, after all, has caused most, if not all, of the ills we face today. And it would be more than foolish to expect science to fix the problems which science has caused.
Yet.
But of course.
However….
Yes, yes, I know, there are good things being discovered, and some may yet prove helpful to us all. But scientists are no more worthy of immediate, unquantified, unearned respect than any other profession. Let’s see what they can do before bowing and curtsying to them, shall we? Scientists are the new firefighters, it seems: every one of them is a hero even if they haven’t done anything to deserve it.
And, as I’ve said many times before, among all the scientists, none is more loathsome than the spaceman. The lover of distant dead galaxies. The hater of the earth. The negater of Life as we know it. They’ve turned their backs on the only planet worth saving, which is a treason of an evil kind. Send them all to the nearest black hole.
Still.
And yet.
When will I get my vaccine? And when do they perfect teleportation?
And when will they invent a toaster that does both sides equally?