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If it didn’t need permission to expose my mind to irresponsible, sexed-up marketing for an unhealthy, addictive product, does that mean I don’t need permission to put an axe through the advert the next time it drives by? My mind is private property too – perhaps the most private of property.
wanted meaning and purpose back in my life. So what did I go and do: I got a job on the assembly line of an American pharmaceutical company on an industrial estate in Galway, and went out drinking every night with the wages.
we so often want to make a difference but are paralyzed with fear or not knowing how, so we waste our time instead
On one hand they’re going to stop me from careering into an oncoming car and near-certain death; on the other hand, I’m painfully aware that they’re the fruit of a political ideology that is careering head first into a natural world it has forgotten its dependency on, and near-certain death.
I put the wheel back on, pump the tyres, oil the sprocket and clean out the dirt from the derailleur. It’s in good shape. There’s a strong argument for not using a bike, but there’s no argument for not looking after it well.
And so now the only people keeping the Great Blasket’s paths alive are tourists, like me, who gawk at the ruined remnants of a people made extinct by the homogenising, all-consuming factories of industrial civilisation. And to think that we call the people who drive such extinctions ‘innovators’.
As David Fleming wrote in Lean Logic, ‘There is no reason why he [the hypocrite] should not argue for standards better than he manages to achieve in his own life; in fact, it would be worrying if his ideals were not better than the way he lives.’

