Dearest Mister Pascal

could it possibly have been the tumor in your stomach which then spread to your brain, finally killing you on august 19th, 1662, which led to your shameless “wager” which believers have used in an endless attempt to inflict guilt upon all of us who simply cannot digest the babblings of your book, your traditions & your “god,” and not some kind of religious awakening? hadn’t you been in poor health most of your life, and hadn’t you any hesitation before positing that it’d be better to believe than to not, as if life was just some cheap roll of the dice in a casino, a lottery scratch off, whereby if you take a chance & play, you may win the prize & if you don’t bother, you will have no chance whatsoever? could the cancer invading your mind have led you to believing that what insanity was right for you, might have been right for others? couldn’t you have just been content being really good at geometry & not feel the need to pounce upon us posthumously with your Pensées?