The Universe, let’s face it, can be downright annoying. Disagreeable even. Oh sure, every so often we (apparently inaccurately) get to say ‘Karma’s a bitch’ when someone we especially dislike gets his or her comeuppance, but by and large that happens all too rarely and the world is chock full of jerks going along their merry way doing just fine without the Universe getting too bothered. What goes around does not appear to come around, unless it’s just doing a U-turn.

I am reminded of a line from an old essay by columnist and critic John Leonard:

Said the man to the Universe, “Sir, I exist.” “That,’ replied the Universe, “does not instill in me any particular sense of obligation.”

And there’s the rub. The universe carries on, black holes and quasars and pulsars and whatnot out there, a gazillion light years away so we don’t even know they’re there for thousands of years since it takes forever for their light to travel over to us. The Hubble telescope shows us the odd awe inspiring photo of it all going on, Big Bang in the rear view, expanding away. Meanwhile we think we matter somehow – so we create gods and symbols and rituals to reassure ourselves that really there is some point to it all, we just haven’t quite stumbled onto the details yet.

I won’t bother to bring up the lunacy of the world at the moment – you all have access to the same news I do – or gripe in my usual charming fashion about the stupidity of AI or the madness of crowds ploughing buckets of money into said AI. I’ll keep a tight rein on my temper as drivers go nuts – the car ahead of me yesterday signalling right as it then turned left (reminding me of the old Bob Newhart driving instructor bit: Mrs. Webb! Mrs. Webb! SCREECH.  Ah, well, Mrs. Webb, you were in the left lane and you were signalling left so naturally I assumed … ). We won’t even mention the psychopaths who sit on their horn because I seem reluctant to run over the pedestrians in the crosswalk. I know, so gauche of me not to want to murder people.

I’ll simply resort to paraphrasing the immortal words of Monty Python’s Eric Idle, and hope that somewhere in the universe there’s intelligent life.

And take solace in the fact that summer with its incessant heat, forest fire smoke and general chaos is over, fall is here with its soothing, cooling rain and try – try! – to not echo the same shriek as everyone else: November? It’s November already?!