Tim Minchin's Storm is a 10 minute beat
poem (yep, that's right) about what happens when sceptic, Minchin is
forced to converse with hippy, Storm, about the deeper things in life
at a London dinner party.
I'm a big fan on Tim Minchin in general
but it has to be said, 'Storm' is undoubtedly his piece de
resistance. If you have ten minutes to spare WATCH IT:
In my opinion, it's pure genius and
echoes (albeit more eloquently) my own rather sceptical views on some
of the more supernatural elements of this world and in particular the
morality of psychics:
“Why is it OK
For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
Is it not totally fucked in the head
Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
And telling her you’re in touch with the other side?
That’s just fundamentally sick”
One of the other major aspects of the
poem that resonates with me is the assertion that this world should
surely be enough for us without needing to look for deeper meaning:
“Isn’t this enough?
Just this world?
Just this beautiful, complex
Wonderfully unfathomable, NATURAL world?
How does it so fail to hold our attention
That we have to diminish it with the invention
Of cheap, man-made Myths and Monsters?”
Of course it's very easy to be
satisfied with the world around you when it's a glorious sunny Friday
morning in Cardiff.
