I'd far rather be happy than right any day.
And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realised what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.
Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mind–bogglingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as the final and clinching proof of the non–existence of God.
The argument goes something like this:
I refuse to prove that I exist, says God,
for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.
But, says Man,
The Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED.
Oh dear, says God,
I hadn't thought of that, and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
Bypasses are devices that allow some people to dash from point A to point B very fast while other people dash from point B to point A very fast. People living at point C, being a point directly in between, are often given to wonder what's so great about point A that so many people from point B are so keen to get there, and what's so great about point B that so many people from point A are so keen to get there. They often wish that people would just once and for all work out where the hell they wanted to be.