Happily ever after.

I lost all faith in my eternal soul not long after my first hypoglycemic attack (as a diabetic they're just part of my life's rich tapestry). I found myself thinking "wow I was a different person back there" and I was. I literally go from nice easy-going ol' me to little short of a homicidal maniac in the space of 2/3 ml of sugar per litre of blood. The question this raised, to my mind, was how my so-called eternal soul is supposed to last forever if it can't even handle a drop in blood sugar? 

The plain truth of the matter is that "we" are our brains (it can actually reasonably be argued that we're not even that, but I digress) and, therefore, anything that happens to our brains happens to "us". And that, I'm am sorry to say, includes dying.

If you're wondering what the experience of death is like here's a quick experiment you can do at home! 1) find a large hammer/mallet 2) (you may need a friend or an irresponsible adult to help with this next bit) bash yourself firmly over the head. If the experiment worked you should have a death-like-experience and be back in time for tea! hurrah!

Just what is the supposed purpose of a 'soul'? (apart, of course, from assuaging people's fear of death?) There doesn't seem to be one. I certainly can't think of one, and no, just "feeling it" sure don't count, not in my book. Having an excuse to market silly books at vulnerable, gullible people does actually, er, count.

Oh dear.