Of course he was. We don’t have the ability to see into the future. He was probably tripping on acid. Every photo I’ve seen of him his stare is vacant and his eyes mad. And that is one hell of an uncouth beard. If he wasn’t tripping when those photos and drawings were made, I’ll eat my shoes.
He was a seer, and seer means one who sees. During his lifetime, drugs became so common you were looked down upon for not using them. I’m sure everybody sounded like Nostradamus, only he was wealthy and could afford paper and a pen. Heck, he was an apothecary. A drug seller! Even if he didn’t use them, he spent his entire day hanging around their fumes. I’m sure they caused him to go la-la either way. He was even kicked out of university for selling drugs! I’m sure that made him angry and want to earn some respect in a society that hated apothecaries. How better to achieve said goal than to light up a bong and head to candy land?
He wasn’t even good at making drugs. He created a pill that cured people of the plague. His wife and children then died of the plague. Tragic, of course, but also proof of his ineptitude and poor judgment. Honestly, I put this to you: why do we believe a word that comes out of this man’s mouth? The only prediction he got right was his death. And how do we know his death wasn’t suicide? All his other predictions have been wildly misinterpreted and much of it is guesswork. Only a blind fool would follow Nostradamus.
I feel sorry for Michel ‘Loony Tunes’ de Nostredame. The picture I see painted before me is one of a man who wanted everything in life and was willing to work hard to get it. An honest man plagued by the allure of the occult and the veiled shadows of his era. A man who lost everything in pursuit of that allure and then lost everything again. He fell even deeper down the rabbit hole and became a rambling mad fool. ‘When they see the half pig man… a child without hands, never so great a thunderbolt seen, the royal child wounded at a game of tennis’, he wrote. Probably whilst drugged up. And people took that and used it as a platform for prophecy? Not me. Never me. I think we should let him rest in peace.
What is the future? At the start of this sentence, the middle of this sentence was the future, but now that future is history and the presence in-between is non-existent as it was outweighed by the future and the history, which merged together in an orgasm of confusion of the real truth: there is no future! There is no such thing as time.
We should live for the here and the now. That’s what Nostradamus would say. Well, that and, “Have you any crack, perchance?”
The Friday Bonus Question:
Plucked from the basement of the internet, a bewildering real question that defies logic and an answer, here for you to ponder:
Do you ever have dreams where you explode into a fountain of crabs?
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The Indelible Life of Me
Latest Post: How The Mopey Mope-A-Mope-A-Tron Was Hurt By A Moth
Hark Around The Words
Latest Post: Thisterness/Fatalness