The Time is Ripe

[Stephen Whiteside]

I've said it before and I'll say it again. It is no good saying the time is not yet ripe. The time is always ripe.

Time is not like fruit. It doesn't move from greenness to ripeness to rottenness. Time does not grow on trees. Time is inversely proportional to speed, unlike trees - and fruit - which are unaffected by speed, unless they have a collision with a speeding vehicle, I suppose, but that is not what I mean.

Time does not have a rind or skin, pulp, or pips. It cannot be chopped up and thrown into a bowl, added to yoghurt, stewed or canned. It does not fall to the ground for want of pickers. It in unaffected by the recent decision at SPC.

Time is not pecked at by birds or inhabited by grubs.

Time did not tempt Adam and Eve.

So let us not delude ourselves that the time is not yet ripe.

The time is always ripe.

[David Campbell]

Indeed it is, Stephen. Although my luck is always rotten. In your professional philosophical capacity, can you suggest a suitable way of striking a balance between the two?

David

[Stephen Whiteside]

I suppose if the time was rotten but your luck ripe at least half the time you'd be happy enough.

Assuming there is a relationship between time and luck (which is a big assumption, I know, but we'll let it stand for the moment), it might be worth trying to find a way to rot time - at least part of the (rotten?) time. That might force your luck into temporary ripeness.

I wonder if speed might be the answer.

High speeds seem to challenge the conventional rules of physics.

I'm not sure that the speed of light would be sufficient. If you could try to move at several times the speed of light, though, your luck might improve - at least for the time you are moving.

Perhaps if you placed your right heel securely on the carpet and pushed yourself around clockwise (or anti-clockwise) a few times it would be a good start. Of course, there is a big difference between spinning on your heel and moving at several times the speed of light, but I'm not sure what else to suggest, and you have to start somewhere.

The other difficulty is that it is difficult to put pen to paper while you are spinning around, or even think clearly, and there is every chance that by the time you have slowed down your luck will be rotten again.

I'm not sure I've been much help. These are just thoughts off the top of my head, though - just next to that itchy mole that's been worrying me a bit lately. If I have any further thoughts - some more considered thoughts, perhaps - I'll let you know.

Ripe luck!

[David Campbell]

Hmmm...it seems that no-one else dares to venture into the ticking bomb of time, rotten or otherwise. Maybe it's not poetic enough. Let's try this:

Alas, perhaps it seems that I'm
a fool to dig the sands of time,
to conjure castles in the air
of whimsy, intricate and rare.

David

[Neville Briggs]

Don't confuse us with facts Stephen surely our poetry friends here need to enjoy the wonderful, imaginative and colourful spice of the figure of speech.
What's logic got to do with it ?

Were the gilded youths in Banjo Paterson's barber shop really acerebral ?

[Zondrae]

Correct me if I am wrong

which I often am, - but doesn't 'gilded' mean covered with gold? If so where did they get it?

[Stephen Whiteside]

A fool to dig time's sands, perhaps,
And conjure castles in the air?
You may be sure that other chaps -
And fools? - have also travelled there.

Rotten sands of rotten time.
Smoggy castles, smoggy air,
And yet, perhaps, the time is ripe
And you might climb the winding stair

That weaves around the turret dark
And leads above the puffy cloud
Through heavens pale to make your mark
Way up above the madding crowd;

And as the ground below you falls,
And you are feeling light and free,
Your mind on sweet, angelic halls...
You'll bang your head on space debris.

[Glenny Palmer]

Zondrae, methinks Banjo was referring to the ‘tasteless show-off sort’ interpretation of ‘gilded’ albeit somewhat archaic in origin.

Now, now Stephen. I must take issue. How could you possibly describe the time as being ‘ripe’ if, for instance a fella proposed to his sweetheart through the swing doors, when she was fully occupied on the toilet? To me that would seem the most un-ripe time to effect such a plea?

Are you not completely at odds with yourself when you state:

Time does not have a rind or skin, pulp, or pips. It cannot be chopped up and thrown into a bowl, added to yoghurt, stewed or canned. It does not fall to the ground for want of pickers. It in unaffected by the recent decision at SPC.

If we are to accept your aforesaid argument, does it not undeniably indicate that time is not ripe...ever...for it is not, as you eloquently point out, suitable to be canned by SPC...& therefore not a fruit, & furthermore...therefore... unable to be rotten or indeed ripe. No, no good sir. Time is, by your own argument never ripe...never organically capable of being ripe.

[Stephen Whiteside]

Yes, of course you are right, Glenny. I was arguing that time can never be unripe and therefore it must be always ripe, but the overriding argument is, as you say, that the concept of ripeness has no relevance to time at all, as I have so eloquently argued, as you say. It was a bit of a gamble on my part that nobody would notice. It didn't pay off. Luckily, I didn't have any money on it.

I'm rather glad David brought air into the discussion. In the example you mention, it would be the air, rather than time, that would be ripe, I expect. I guess the castles would be in the bowl, though I haven't heard them referred to as castles before.

[Glenny Palmer]

....I really should recognise when you are off dodging 'space debris'... This feels like a most hollow victory good sir. However, 'lateral thinking' can be somewhat 'distal' when taken to extremes. eg.
Nothing is heavier than an elephant.
A feather is heavier than nothing.
Therefore...a feather is heavier than an elephant.

(See you on the far side of the moon, mon ami...)