Physics and poetry and thankshanukahgiving

I have a dozen posts to finish on physics.  I also need to go back and rewrite all the poetry that I have written.  Painfully, you may then have to look at them all over again, one at a time with all the changes too subtle to know from memory, so you'll have to go back to the originals or suffer that you may be reading the exact same poem over and over again, a lesson in infinite series, perhaps.

Not so with the physics.  Each post cuts a new path towards the center of the universe, a better understanding of the origin of space and what this quantum thing called time is that allows us to experience dimension, love and even understanding of this thing.

And yet we have such a small part of time.  In a fit of melancholy, I realized that if Thankshanukahgiving only occurs every 70,000 years, it is unlikely that anyone will be there to enjoy it.  While you probably envision people in funny hats and painted robots sitting in a forest together sharing giant zombie turkeys brought down with lasers and motor oil, the sad truth is that human beings are less than 70,000 years old in their current version and we are more likely to be replaced by hardy cockroaches feeding on the corpses of one another than super intelligent derrivatives of each other that eat latkahs and turkey every 70,000 years.

While this is too likely not to be discouraging, the nature of the human condition is to hope in the face of insurmountable odds.  What little part that I play to improve the human condition is unlikely to be of much use in fighting crazed monster foul, but perhaps you can do something to make a difference.  I will give my new physics and songs of love to you and the future; and tomorrow, if the world still exists I will begin shopping for the ingredients for potato pancakes and dressing, all the while wondering in 70,000 years what another version of me will be doing as i pal around with my "new" robot, for as I think about it, I have a robot already in my smart phone.  It is smarter than me and while it will not share my repast, it will soak up current; so perhaps what we don't have in 70,000 years, we will have this thursday and the only thing I can want, is to have it with you.

And if it is never to happen again, as each day will never happen again, the least we should do is to make the most of it.