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The first time I realized that “No, I’m not just crazy”—and that there might in fact be something deeply and irredeemably fucked up about the process of life itself (not my own life in particular, but the existence of self-replicators competing for scarce resources) came when I read a letter Charles Darwin wrote to a friend. In 1860, Darwin was corresponding with a friend on the topic of theodicy.
The first time I realized that “No, I’m not just crazy”—and that there might in fact be something deeply and irredeemably fucked up about the process of life itself (not my own life in particular, but the existence of self-replicators competing for scarce resources) came when I read a letter Charles Darwin wrote to a friend. In 1860, Darwin was corresponding with a friend on the topic of theodicy.
I beg the reader’s patience as I put my cards on the table. Every story is, in some way, autobiography, and my story explains the passion of the thesis that follows it. Baylor University recruited me right out of graduate school. I took the courting seriously, as Baylor’s Philosophy Department had an excellent reputation.However, being of a certain age, mention of Waco, Texas, conjured images of a very sordid affair that shall go unnamed here.
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