To write a couple of lines I am inclined,

About a cat, sat on my front-door mat,

That was or was not, victim of a crime.

There in a box it sat, and that was that!

Or so I thought; then wrote a few more lines.

That’s not my cat, it is Herr Schrödinger's!

Is it quite dead, or is it doing fine?

Are Cheshire cats renowned malingerers?

Your answers to my questions I invite;

But obfuscatory meanderings

Such as “oh look, see how the moon shines bright!”

And, “is it really made of cheesy strings?”

Upon my darkness will throw little light;

Tu quoque fallacies will get us nowhere,

To logic they will kiss a sweet goodnight,

The dawn of reason will not have a prayer.

Wherefore and when, that cat upon my mat?

Cease and desist from whataboutery!

Who dunnit to Schrödinger's pussy cat?

Serve justice now, not demagoguery!

 

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh, 28th January 2024