2025: The Writing on the Wall – Lessons from Babylon, and Why Words Still Matter

Opening Gambit:

2025, mi fren! A new year, a fresh slate, and yet, don’t you feel like the universe has left us a cryptic message on the proverbial wall? Maybe it’s time we do as Daniel did—pause, interpret, and glean wisdom from the words of old.

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The Biblical Backdrop:

Now, let’s talk about this famous biblical moment from Daniel—King Belshazzar’s feast, the mysterious ghostly hand, and words that weighed more heavily than the gold goblets he was sipping from. “Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.” Four words, small as a grain of rice, but bursting with meaning. 

Here’s the kicker: **words carry weight.** Tekel literally means “weighed,” and if that doesn’t make you stop scrolling through Instagram for a hot second, I don’t know what will. Every word you utter or type has the power to tip scales, divide kingdoms, or count the days of empire. And in 2025, with our tweets, posts, and texts, we’re all scribbling on walls, aren’t we?

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Semantic Shenanigans:

Let’s break these words down, linguistically, like a true philosopher playing dominoes with etymology.

1. **Mene (מנא):** This comes from the Akkadian root “manā,” meaning "to count." Counted. Tallied. And you know what’s wild? This root connects to the Proto-Semitic "*mny*" and even parallels the English word “many” through a shared Indo-European root, "*men-*," meaning "to think" or "to count." So, to count is to think. Let that marinate. In 2025, are we thinking about what we count? Followers? Likes? Dollars? Do we even know what we’re tallying anymore?

2. **Tekel (תקל):** Weighed. Balanced. Found wanting. This word is the ancestor of “shekel,” a currency, and it’s derived from the Proto-Semitic "*šql*," which ties to the act of weighing. So, this isn’t just about scales; it’s about value—how we measure worth. In 2025, are we weighing the right things? Or is the scale tilted by bias, greed, or vanity? 

3. **Upharsin (וּפַרְסִין):** Divided. Split. And here’s where it gets spicy—this word shares roots with the concept of parsing. Yes, that thing we do with sentences, dissecting them into nouns, verbs, and clauses. But isn’t that also what we do with people, ideas, and even nations? We parse, divide, segment. Sometimes, for understanding. Other times, for power. A lesson for 2025: Maybe it’s time to parse less and unite more.

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**The Linguistic Dancehall:**

Language is a complex riddim, mi fren. Take “Upharsin,” for example. It’s not just a word; it’s a crossroads where Akkadian, Aramaic, Greek, and Latin all meet for a jam session. This one word shows us how languages influence each other like waves crashing on the same shore. And isn’t that a metaphor for humanity? We’re all cognates of the same root.

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Phonetics and Cognition:

And let’s not forget the sounds—the *phonetics*. Say "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin" out loud. Hear the rhythm? The repetition of “Mene” feels like a heartbeat, steady and inevitable. “Tekel” drops like a gavel, a judgment rendered. And “Upharsin” trails off, dividing the rhythm, like the very act it describes. Words aren’t just meanings; they’re music. And in 2025, maybe it’s time we listen to the melody of our language a bit more carefully.

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The Bigger Picture:

What’s the lesson here, as we step into 2025? The writing on the wall isn’t just ancient history—it’s a reminder. Words are powerful. They shape kingdoms, relationships, and even our own minds. But here’s the catch: words are only as good as their translations. If we don’t strive for clarity, precision, and understanding, we risk misinterpreting the message. And trust mi, Babylon didn’t fall because of a bad party—it fell because the king didn’t understand the weight of his actions. Or his words.

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Jamaican Twist:

So, as The Jamaican Philosopher, let me leave you with this: In Jamaica, we have a saying—*“Talk and taste your words before you spit dem out.”* Translation? Be mindful of what you say, because your words have power. Maybe in 2025, we all need to taste our words a little more. Whether you’re posting on social media, having a heated debate, or whispering sweet nothings, remember: you’re writing on someone’s wall. Make it count.

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Closing Vibes:

So, here’s to 2025, a year where we weigh our words more carefully, count what truly matters, and parse less but connect more. And if you ever find yourself confused or lost, just remember Daniel’s wisdom: The hand is always writing. It’s up to you to read it.

Blessings and balance,

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
The Jamaican Philosopher  

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Out Here On A Limb!

The Great Renaming: A Humorous Yet Thought-Provoking Musing on Animal Anatomy and Evolution 

Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your hats—or your fins, wings, and webbed fingers, as the case may be—because I am here to challenge the very foundations of zoological nomenclature with the audacity of a squirrel challenging gravity during a leap of faith. It's time we reexamine what we *think* we know about our animal kin. Let me present to you a thesis that is as witty as it is scientifically provocative: Animals are mislabeled, misunderstood, and dare I say, misrepresented in the great book of life.  

All the data presented here is based on my own HANDS ON experience!

The Case Against "Four-Footedness"  

Let’s take a moment and truly consider the so-called "four-footed" animals. Cats and dogs—pardon, *puss and dawg*—are among the most egregious victims of this anatomical propaganda. Anyone who has spent years sketching their skeletal frames (as I have, with the fervour of a Renaissance anatomist) will tell you: the front "legs" of these creatures are not legs at all, but rather arms. Yes, arms! The bone structure is nearly identical to the human arm—humerus, radius, ulna, and let’s not even get started on the wrist-like carpus.  

And those paws? They’re hands in disguise, my friends. Hands! Observe a cat batting at a toy or a dog digging a hole with surgical precision, and tell me that isn’t a form of manual dexterity. If these creatures are walking on all fours, they are, in fact, walking on their hands. Ponder that the next time you see a Labrador sauntering down the street with regal nonchalance.  

Kangaroos are fascinating creatures, particularly when you examine their front limbs, which resemble human arms in both structure and function. These "arms" are equipped with powerful pectoral muscles that enable them to deliver impressive punches during their unique form of boxing. When kangaroos engage in this sparring behavior, their muscular build and the ability to extend their limbs showcase a remarkable similarity to human upper-body mechanics. The kangaroo’s forelimbs are not just for balance or support; they are adept at striking, allowing these marsupials to assert dominance and communicate through physical displays. This anthropomorphic quality in their anatomy highlights the evolutionary adaptations that allow kangaroos to thrive in their environment while also captivating our imagination with their human-like strength and agility. Don't you think it is something to think about or consider?

Birds Do Not Have Wings—They Have Hands That Fly  

Now, let us turn to the aviators of the animal kingdom: birds. The so-called "wing" is nothing more than a glorified hand wearing a particularly fashionable feathered cape. Anatomically speaking, the avian wing comprises the same basic structure as your own arm—shoulder, elbow, wrist, and fingers. Yes, fingers! Those feathers are just the avant-garde extensions of what evolutionarily amounts to jazz hands.  

Bats, of course, have taken this concept to its logical extreme. Their "wings" are merely webbed fingers stretched to improbable lengths, like something out of a Tim Burton sketchbook. They don’t flap wings; they high-five the air.  

The Aquatic Ape Theory: Humans, Seals, and the Ghosts of Our Webbed Ancestors  

Now that we’ve established the hand-walking, hand-flying reality of terrestrial and aerial creatures, let’s dive—literally—into the aquatic realm. There’s a theory, whispered among the more rebellious anthropologists, that humans are not merely distant cousins of the chimpanzee but rather the offspring of an aquatic ape. Think about it: humans are oddly suited for water. We have subcutaneous fat (blubber, if you will) much like seals and whales, and our babies, when submerged, instinctively hold their breath and perform a rudimentary doggy paddle. Could it be that we are the web-fingered descendants of some long-forgotten coastal ape that decided to take a swim and never stopped?  

Seals, of course, are the obvious sea-dog analog. Their skeletal structure screams "canine cousin," and their vocalizations—those charming *arfs*—are but a watery echo of their terrestrial counterparts. Meanwhile, the walrus, with its saber-toothed maw, could very well be the aquatic equivalent of a prehistoric lion forced to adapt to icy oceans.  

Whales, Wolves, and Porpoise-Pigs  

And what of the great leviathans of the sea? Whales are often said to have evolved from wolf-like ancestors, and dolphins, in ancient times, bore the name "porpoise," a term derived from the Latin *porcus piscis*, meaning "pig fish." While I admit I have yet to personally compare dolphin and pig bones in the manner of a Victorian naturalist, the linguistic and behavioral parallels are uncanny.  

Dolphins are social, intelligent, and occasionally mischievous—traits they share with pigs. Perhaps they are the aquatic swine of yore, frolicking in the waves instead of rooting in the dirt.

Lobsters, Scorpions, and the Arthropod Ancestry  

Finally, let us consider the crustaceans and their terrestrial doppelgängers. Is a lobster not but a scorpion in a diving suit? And what of the crab, with its spider-like gait and penchant for scuttling sideways? Shrimp and roaches, too, seem to share a common lineage, their exoskeletal forms suggesting a family reunion that spans both land and sea.  

A Call to Action (and Renaming)  

Time for a New Nomenclature

So, my fellow thinkers, artists, and amateur anatomists, I propose that we abandon outdated labels like "four-footed" and "winged" in favor of terms that reflect the reality of these creatures’ anatomy and evolution. Let us celebrate the hand-walking, hand-flying, web-fingered wonders of our world. And while we’re at it, let’s give some thought to the connections that bind us all—from the scuttling lobster to the soaring bird, from the barking dog to the blubbery seal.  

After all, in the grand tapestry of life, we are all but variations on a theme, our bones echoing the same ancient melodies, our forms shaped by the whims of evolution. And if that’s not worth a hearty *arf* or a jubilant high-five, I don’t know what is.  

References:  

- Darwin, C. (1859). *On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection.* (Also, a great read if you like long sentences and Victorian drama.)  

- Shubin, N. (2008). *Your Inner Fish.* (Or, why your hand is also a fish fin.)  

- Ancient sailors who mistook dolphins for pigs and seals for sea-dogs. (Unpublished anecdotes but undeniably compelling.)  

And with that, I leave you to ponder the marvels of the natural world, one humorous bone structure at a time.