I'm coming to this thread drunk off my ass, so forgive my imposition, but I think Ursula K Le Guin had it right, in The Lathe Of Heaven when she wrote, "I haven't any strength, I haven't any character, I'm a born tool. I haven't any destiny. All I have is dreams. And now other people run them.” We find ways to rationalize our way away from fate, to pretend we have ways by which we escape the game, by which we bet against the house and win -- but we all know we're born tools; to wish to be otherwise is the wish to be supernatural, or the stuff of angels. We find it easy to condemn the stupid for silly "get out of jail free" cards in their faith, yet we buck and fight the inevitable, that we are just a tool, no less than the theist, no less than any of those we hate. We are tools. And other people run us.
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