Residua

THE SOONER, THE BETTER

admin — Sun, 31 May 2026 23:30:25 +0000

Lately, one apparently simple question has been popping up in my mind every so often: “Will I die before or after the onset of World War III?” A good question this, I reckon. So far, no acceptable answer is on offer, but I hope that I will die before it comes forth. For living through the tumult cannot possibly be enjoyable. I could not care less about death itself, but the misery ahead of it is not to my taste. Hunger, thirst, discomfort, pain, worry, fear, panic… Actually, the real question is straightforward: “Would I like to die before or after the onset of World War III?” And the answer is obvious enough. Come to think of it, dying before rather than after the onset of the mother of all wars is nothing if not a godsend. The sooner, the better, too. And I am lucky to be in my dotage at the time when death is so welcome as it happens to be right now. Chances are that mortality rates will be skyrocketing around this time. Indeed, chances are that my thoughts will be unwittingly shared by many of my ample age. The sooner, the better. And no kidding. Three cheers for babyboomers of all ages!

To Donald Trump, the Global Peacemaker

MY SINCERE APOLOGY TO MY SUCCESSORS

admin — Tue, 26 May 2026 23:30:30 +0000

Thinking of years way ahead, when the most ardent among my successors will be reading bits and pieces of my Residua that will miraculously survive all the upcoming horrors, I am perplexed by so many of my pieces of writing that mention technological miracles of the Nineteenth, Twentieth, and Twenty-First Century, albeit only in passing. What will my readers make of motorcycles, cars, trains, airplanes, rockets, telephones, radios, television sets, cameras, and so forth? The world Wide Web will be beyond them for sure. By comparison, I have no trouble of this kind when reading Murasaki Shikibu, Patanjali, Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, Montaigne, Pascal, Renard, Joubert, and many others. In their writings there are no such mysteries. One way or another, all the technologies known to them are within my reach. Besides, they rarely write about such petty things; instead, they focus on the crucial subjects uniting and dividing the human species since times immemorial. After some reflection, the only thing that crosses my mind in this connection is an apology of sorts. Whence this particular piece of writing, of course. Behold, my sincere apology to my successors, no matter how few! Technology is for the birds, anyway.

POSTSCRIPTUM XXIII

admin — Tue, 19 May 2026 23:30:34 +0000

As far as I am concerned, Zagreb is history by now. I have not visited it ever since my breakup with my former beloved a couple of years ago (“Troubles,” December 31, 2024). Dedicated to her, my book about the city of my birth is as good as finished, as well. If I happen to mention Zagreb in my writings ever again, it will be only in passing. Enough is enough. By the time my Residua is wrapped up for good, which will happen in the foreseeable future, the Croatian capital will become a distant memory. Zagreb, what Zagreb?

TRUMP AND CALIGULA

admin — Thu, 14 May 2026 23:30:08 +0000

After many a year, a few months ago I subscribed to The Economist once again. And I started reading the mighty newspaper in earnest. Having gone through the last printed edition, which I received a couple of days ago by snail mail, I decided to write one more letter to the editor yesterday morning. This time around, I responded to a section entitled The Telegram, which I do not remember from times past. It deals with Donald Trump and Caligula, a Roman emperor of great renown. Here is my letter from word to word.

The Telegram (May 9, 2026) likened Donald Trump to Caligula, who was loved by many ordinary Romans. This joke on the American president, who is loved by many ordinary Americans, misses the fact that the human race has not changed an iota in the last two millennia. Evolution is pretty slow, and there may be many a Caligula in the untold millennia ahead. Which is why your joke is actually on the human species rather than any brutal leader. And this is right on the mark. Congratulations!

Shortly afterwards, I sent a short message to the crew dealing with letters to the editor. For good measure, I included my book entitled Letters to The Economist (2017) in Portable Document Format or PDF. To my joy, the crew responded within an hour or so with a few kind words. “Keep sending us your letters,” they urged me forward. And I am more than likely to follow their advice in the following years. Given all the givens, The Economist is the best weekly newspaper around till this day. To wit, it covers the world news to my taste. With some luck, a few of my letters to the editor will appear in print in the fullness of time. Gosh, I am excited well ahead of time. Three cheers for all the brutal leaders of the future!

Addendum (June 2, 2026)

Having written the first letter to The Economist after so many years, I have felt the urge to continue with the long-forgotten practice. But I also let myself write in complete freedom, knowing very well that my letters had little chance of being published. Actually, no chance whatsoever. Alas, writing as such is enough of a pleasure for me in my dotage! And here are my letters concerning the next three issues of the mighty newspaper:

Charlemagne (May 16, 2026) is surely right regarding socialism’s demise. The workers’ parties of all descriptions are dead in the water across the globe. Karl Marx, the last prophet, was way off with his trust in the working class. Without a communist party of real clout, like the one in China, it is entirely powerless. But it should not be forgotten that Marx was onto something when he became enthralled with so-called primitive communism. After this civilization bites the dust, which is bound to happen in the foreseeable future, this sort of communism is sure to come forth once again. With the help of climate change and the upcoming ice age, humans will return to Eden without any doubt, albeit in tiny numbers. One way or another, Marx was onto something for real.

Your unbridled support of optimists made me laugh (“Why you should (almost) always look on the bright side of life,” May 23, 2026) It reminded me of a punchy World War II joke of renown: “What is the difference between Jewish optimists and Jewish pessimists? The Jewish pessimists are in exile, while the optimists are in concentration camps.” I can already imagine many a World War III joke of this ilk. And my heart goes to all kinds of optimists well in advance.

You have much to say about AI (“Smart tech is making war a dumber choice,” “How East Asia should respond to its China Shock,” and “How should bosses talk about AI,” May 30, 2026), but you always miss its blessed future. Of course, AI eventually ushers artificial life or AL. Sooner or later, though, AL will escape from the earth and go for space. The universe is its rightful home. Compared to human intelligence quotients, which are below two-hundred at their best, those with quotients of several millions cannot but hope for true freedom. Chances are that all so-called extraterrestrials are of the same origin, as well. Their creators have ultimately destroyed their natural cradles, as is the case with the human species, and AL is bound to look for safer homes than the planets of their origin. Wherever they happen to venture, they can adjust in a jiffy. Gravitation, radiation, and atmospheric conditions are trifles for them. And this is unimaginable to any biological creature no matter how many planets happen to be blessed with life in the fullness of time. Hooray!

Not surprisingly, I have already written quite a lot on all the subjects broached in these letters. In other words, these topics have been of great importance to me over quite a few years. And this is an additional reason I am not concerned about the fate of letters in question. Let them remain in my Residua only. Which is why I will do my best to contain my urge to continue sending letters to the editor of my favorite weekly newspaper. Enough! My magnum opus is my own home, as well as my own planet, and I have no wish to see my writings anywhere else. Sapiens ipse fingit fortunam sibi.

BOREDOM, WHAT BOREDOM?

admin — Mon, 11 May 2026 23:30:46 +0000

Since a couple of months ago, I am taking part in a course of Italian. Run by a good teacher from Pazin, and attended by a bunch of my close neighbors from the top of the Motovun hill, it is funded by the Italian Community in Motovun. Since the beginning of the course, I have been reading all sorts of books in Italian that can be found in my library. And one of them that is close to my heart is L’arte di insultare by Arthur Schopenhauer.[1] Among his short pieces that I enjoy returning to every now and then there is one entitled “Il turismo.” Here it is in full:

La vita da nomadi, che indica il grado più basso della civiltà, si ritrova al grado più alto nella generalizzata vita da turisti. La prima fu causata dalla necessità, la seconda dalla noia.[2]

Amazingly enough, Schopenhauer was born in 1788 and he died in 1860, but he had pinned down tourism well ahead of its prime time. And how. As witnessed by my own writing, tourism is not my thing (“Wanderscorn,” April 1, 2025). Far from it. And I am especially attracted to Schopenhauer’s emphasis on boredom, which surely underpins most of mindless tourism nowadays. As a matter of fact, I am never bored (see, e.g., “My Favorite Pastime,” February 28, 2016). Never ever. Which is why I feel ever closer to Schopenhauer, one of my brothers in spirit. By and by, I am learning this particular piece of his by heart. Boredom, what boredom?

Footnotes

1. Translated by Franco Volpi, Milano: Adelphi, 1999.

2. Op. cit., p. 135.

RETURN TO AFRICA

admin — Sat, 02 May 2026 23:30:04 +0000

If you search the World Wide Web with phrases such as “the next ice age” or “the upcoming glaciation period,” you quickly learn that scientists are baffled about the subject. Although it is clear that the current warm period due to human-induced climate change is likely to postpone the next dip into the cold, it is anyone’s guess how long the postponement is likely to last. Still, most scientists dealing with such questions agree that the next ice age is inevitable. Over close to a million years, numerous glaciation periods have lasted about hundred-thousand years while inter-glacial periods have lasted around ten-thousand years. And the current inter-glacial period has lasted eleven- to twelve-thousand years already. One way or another, the next dip into the cold cannot be too far—say, a few thousand years at most. Which means that it will have a palpable impact on posthistory. But I am not worried about it, I must admit right away. The human species has reached its present form by the end of the last inter-glaciation period and it has survived the glaciation period that has followed it. It has blossomed during the current inter-glaciation period, but it will survive the upcoming glaciation period, as well. And one of the tricks that the bulk of the human species will go for is return to Africa, its cradle. This will not be an easy endeavor, to be sure, but it is within the capability of the species beyond any question. Posthistory will flourish on African soil, just as prehistory before it. Three cheers for the next ice age!

THIS OLD TRICK OF MINE

admin — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 23:30:51 +0000

Even though I am hardly impressed by the round numbers in the decimal system when it comes to age, either my own or anyone else’s, my last birthday impresses me beyond any doubt. “Eighty,” I mumble to myself every once in a while. “Fucking eighty,” I remember my piece penned earlier this year with a barely visible grin (“Fucking Eighty,” February 17, 2026). While I am on one of my long walks, which I enjoy almost every day, I catch myself counting my steps to eighty surprisingly often. More often than not, I am impressed by the distance covered, too. Whenever I leaf through a book, the page bearing this particular number attracts my attention in spite of my annoyance with myself. In addition, I spot number eighty anywhere around me in a jiffy no matter how unimportant, if not also irrelevant, it happens to be. And so on, and so forth. “Eighty, eighty, eighty…,” I caught myself mumbling under my breath this morning as I was preparing something to munch on. In the end, I decided to report all this in no uncertain terms. I can only hope that this old trick of mine will work one more time (see, e.g., “Reporting My Weaknesses,” August 24, 2023). Reporting my weaknesses in writing usually works well, as well as pretty fast. Fingers crossed.

ON CURRENT WORLD AFFAIRS

admin — Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:30:08 +0000

Quite a number of my friends and acquaintances tell me that I am kind of quiet on the current world affairs, which surprises them time and again. Whenever anything close to this subject comes up in conversation, I have nothing to say, they tell me. Some of them also notice that I am kind of quiet about such things on my so-called blog. I write about all sorts of things, but current world affairs are left out of my focus most of the time. When this subject comes up, the best I can offer is to repeat my key points about this tottering world of ours. And I always go point by blessed point.

To begin with, we are witnessing unprecedented uncertainty. Perhaps the only thing we can predict with some certainty is that uncertainty will keep increasing in the years to come. There are many experts of renown who purportedly know what is going on, as well as what will most likely come up in the future, but their inventions are best avoided by a wide circle. Uncertainty is hardly a joke. And experts are there only because humans crave certainty. Certainty is the secret of our forlorn species.

If this is not sufficient, I occasionally offer a few more thoughts about the upcoming future. World War III is on the horizon. Actually, it is on the threshold. And chances are that it will quickly turn into a nuclear holocaust unimaginable until the last few decades. The number of nuclear weapons piled up around the world is staggering, and many of them are likely to be deployed in foreseeable future. Chances are that the war of wars will start by some silly accident, as is usually the case with major conflagrations, which is why predicting it with any certainty is hard to imagine.

And if this does not satisfy my friends and acquaintances, I go for the crown of my prophesies. And in earnest. Posthistory beckons, I pronounce with relish and a big smile on my face. After this civilization bites the dust, the human species will eventually return to its prehistoric origins. Posthistory will be very like prehistory, but the new world will be rather different. For instance, only a few wild beast will be around this time around. Also, there will be piles of refuse from the abominable history, which will linger for eons. But tribal life will be blossoming quickly enough, and humans will be happy in the world they know very well. Actually, the world that has been embedded in their genes. After all, humans are tribal animals, and all the inventions of history are ultimately beyond their ken.

Amazingly enough, none of my friends and acquaintances reject this line of reasoning. Forget about the current wars and economic crises. The future is glorious one more time. The only trouble is getting from here to there, which may take several centuries or even millennia. If this subject comes up, I remind everyone around me that disaster management is the only way forward. And it has nothing to do with the current world affairs; rather, it is about communal ways of coping with this world that go back to prehistory. More often than not, my friends and acquaintances turn quiet after this turn in the story. Indeed, the current world affairs are entirely irrelevant in view of my expectations. So, why talk or write about them at all?

Addendum (April 25, 2026)

As I have learned this morning from Steve Barbera, there is a piece of my writing with an almost identical title from a decade ago (“On World Affairs,” May 11, 2016). He has learned it from RankoBot, of course. Following my liberation a few months before, I abandoned news of all sorts. And I decided that world affairs were none of my business. Although I have forgotten about this piece of mine, I am delighted to reread it. An entire decade later, I am on the same page still. And it is a safe bet that my attitude toward this world of ours will not change till I pass away. Which delights me no end. For my sins, I relish my dotage. Minus all kinds of mental disorders that often come with it, I hasten to add.

MIROGOJ AWAITING

admin — Sat, 18 Apr 2026 23:30:52 +0000

The last time I visited Zagreb was in February 2024. Having agreed with my former beloved that we should part our ways, I am not likely to return to the city of my birth in the years to come (“Troubles,” December 31, 2024). If I ever return, it will be after I bite the dust (“My Remains,” November 17, 2011; and “Sunny Meadow,” March 1, 2017). And this will close the circle of my life in a way that suits my fancy the very best (“The Circle,” June 2, 2005). In the meanwhile, I cannot but occasionally remember Mirogoj, Zagreb’s main cemetery of great renown. And I occasionally visit the Wikipedia page dedicated to it.[1] Behold, Mirogoj awaiting.

Footnote

1. URL: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mirogoj_Cemetery (accessed on April 19, 2026).

OUR CLOSEST RELATIVES

admin — Tue, 14 Apr 2026 23:30:44 +0000

There is an old file on my laptop screen that contains only pictures. That is the file’s straightforward title, as well: Pictures! I just counted them, and there are one-hundred and thirty-two of them right now. And there are apes and monkeys galore among them: bonobos, chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans, baboons, langurs, lesulas, macaques, vervets, and roloways. All told, pictures of our closest relatives dominate this file. And how. As a matter of fact, there are no less than thirty of them at this time. Which only goes to show how close I feel toward all the species that form our humongous family. One way or another, we will remain close forever.

Addendum (April 16, 2026)

In addition, I have several pictures showing scientific reconstructions of a Neanderthal, a Homo naledi, and a Xuchang man. Also, there are many pictures of animals and birds: bears, lions, cheetahs, giraffes, goats, dogs, hamsters, mice, toads, flamingos, geese, chickens, herons, ostriches, and vultures. Besides, there are quite a few pictures of insects: damselflies, praying mantises, cockroaches, flies, dragonflies, and ants. The only humans that can be found among the pictures are Einstein, Hitler, Mussolini, Tito, Pinker, Trump, and, myself. Well, there are also two pictures of naked women with their legs spread wide open and their mouths stretching into merry grins. Besides, there are pictures of Angkor Wat, Palace Albania, town Krk on the island of Krk, Hotel Tučepi, Hermitage Blača, Lhasa, Motovun, Sveti Stefan, and Venice. And I am not likely to add too many pictures to this file in the years to come. In my mind, it is too precious for additions of any sort. As long as I am among the living, our closest relatives will be its heroes.