You’re worse than Hannibal Lecter, Charlie Manson, Freddie Krueger

Space – The Ballad of Tom Jones

What did I do wrong?
Oh you nearly drove me cuckoo
Am I really all that bad?
You’re worse than Hannibal Lecter, Charlie Manson, Freddie Krueger
Why are we still together?
Oh I can’t leave until you’re dead
You mean ’til death do us part?
I mean like cyanide, strangulation or an axe to your head

It was lucky for us I turned the radio on
They say that music soothes the savage beast
There was something in that voice that stopped us seeing red
The two of us would surely have ended up dead

[Chorus]
You stopped us from killing each other
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
You’ll never know but you saved our lives
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
I could never throw my knickers at you
And I don’t come from Wales

Still haven’t solved our problems
You mean we hate each others guts
Still wanna poison your pizza
And I still wanna cut off your nuts
I phoned the marriage guidance
I tied the phone line round your neck
I’m sick of all this hatred
Well that will be the arsenic making you sick

You were about to drive me over the edge of a cliff
As I tried to jump out I knocked the stereo on
You changed your mind and then slammed on the brakes
It was lucky for us we bought his greatest hits…

Is Mundane Simplicity the Answer?

It has been a thing of mine to need a mountain fix from time to time, strangely I have not had that urge for quite a while and unless there is a train or cable car, it seems unlikely that I will be doing a 1000metre hike again. The “mountains” around here are all less than 400m.

I’ll suggest that many people live ultra-hectic lives and are continually het up about a whole bunch of stuff. People are so foxtrotting busy that they have little time to think and are constantly moving from one perceived devoir to the next. They do a whole load of stuff they don’t enjoy and are constantly worried about a large number of things. Ambition drives them “forward” and acquisitional consumerism eggs them on. People buy stuff they can’t afford to try to impress people they do not like. This is the modern-day hell on earth to which the bulk of western humanity is subscribed.

It is offered up as modern living and we can buy lifestyle magazines which help us consume in accordance with fashion and the latest technology trends.

If modern living is so good, why are so many people so foxtrotting unhappy, stressed-out and on antidepressants?

Humanity has made life very complicated for itself, complexity is a quasi-deity to be worshipped on the way home from the psychotherapist after having bought some vagina scented candles, at a ridiculous price, from a purveyor of snake oil. We install meditation and wellness apps on the principle cause of our hectic hegemony, our smartphones, blessed be their names.

If you are living in the past and looking at the future, you near entirely miss the present.

The mundane and the boring, so declared, are actually highly engaging and interesting if you are fully present in them. There is always a lot going on.

How many times have you been engaged in something that you enjoy and when Pavlov sends you a text, you stop what it is you are doing because you are drooling to know what is in the message?

I long suspected it, that simplicity was actually the answer. When I first tried to stop the world in order to get off, it was damn weird. There was a time a period of many years in fact when I was scheduled to the nearest five minutes. Now if there is more than one or two things per week, written in the dementia proof diary, it is highly unusual. Yet we find plenty to do and without any hurry and very little stress. A lot of what I write about here is mundane. People might scoff and think that boring.

It took me a number of months to de-tox from the hectic lunacy.

Now, there is nothing urgent.

I don’t have to talk with important people about weighty subjects. I am not trying to impress anyone. I don’t need to do a personal development plan laden with goals and objectives. I don’t have to justify myself if I fail to meet a target.

The things humanity does to itself in the name of “progress” seem more than a tad masochistic from where I am sat now.

Does it all have to come really crashing down before humanity realises, that if it was not so obsessed with progress and wealth, climate change would not be an issue. Reduce consumption-reduce greenhouse gases. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist. This simple message is not the one being touted. We must make things more complicated in order to get climate change under control.

One must not challenge the ultimate deity of acquisitional material consumerism. It is our Lord and God.

If we all lived a simpler life… There would be less drama, less stress. Hell, we as a species might even cheer up and get a little happier…

No matter how hard I shake my crystal ball, with snow in, I can’t see it happening anytime soon.

Being Stoic and Anaesthesia

Less than three hours ago I was unconscious and coming to in the recovery room. Since then, I have had a glass of wine and cooked lamb chops, boiled potatoes and carrots.

The ordeal of bowel preparation which required some stoicism and most of all a sense of graveyard humour, has faded into the mists of yesterday. Funny how toilet paper can feel like coarse grain sandpaper coated with scotch bonnet chillies and sulphuric acid, after a while.  I have had my cancer follow up and in a foreign language, to boot. Now we await the histology of the biopsies thus harvested. There is nothing I can do but wait.

I cannot control the outcome.

The nice people at the hospital commented that my command of French is good, which makes me think that the general level of Brit. French is shite.

When we discussed the likely outcome of today, I said that they would find a few polyps. This has been proven accurate, they found four. Which means that I have a rendezvous with the chimney sweep three years hence.

It is better from a participant experience to be fully sparko. I did miss watching it all on arse-cam and critiquing polyp type and quality, but it was much less traumatic to be unconscious. Less PTSD with induced coma, perhaps.

Tomorrow is another day and in ~ten days’ time, they will slice a potential laser induced basal cell carcinoma out of my left hand…

A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.

Hey-ho…

H−(O−CH2−CH2)n−OH, PEG and Emptiness

Later on today I am due to consume 192 grams of H−(O−CH2−CH2)n−OH with an average molecular weight of 4000 grams per mole. Tomorrow morning, I will have another 64 grams

This stuff is used in vaccines:

“A PEGylated lipid is used as an excipient in both the Moderna and Pfizer–BioNTech vaccines for SARS-CoV-2. Both RNA vaccines consist of messenger RNA, or mRNA, encased in a bubble of oily molecules called lipids. Proprietary lipid technology is used for each. In both vaccines, the bubbles are coated with a stabilizing molecule of polyethylene glycol.”

I have already had some {a tiny amount} of it when I got my Moderna jabs.

“PEG has also been used as a propellent on the UGM-133M Trident II Missile, in service with the United States Navy.

PEG is the basis of many skin creams (as cetomacrogol) and personal lubricants (frequently combined with glycerin).

PEG is the main ingredient in the paint (known as “fill”) in paintballs.”

At the moment I have a slight quandary. I haven’t yet got my covid test back and if it is positive, I won’t be getting my procedure tomorrow hence there will be no need for me to PEG it, as it were. If I take it dissolved in water it will act as a propellant for me too and enable me, in the course of time, to contemplate an alternate meaning of emptiness.

So, what do I do?

Do I place my bet on not having coronavirus and light the blue touch paper?

Once started that kind of thing cannot be stopped.

I guess I’ll keep checking to see if the results are in.

If I have coronavirus and I have consumed all that PEG it will be a double whammy…

In Your World – Is Ambition Good?

If so why?

Please justify this in less than 5000 words.

You will be judged {harshly] on the quality of your defence.

There is a hypothesis in which there are parallel universes…

Beyond the event horizon I can just about see yours, the signal is weak…It is not coming through…

Thank God, that you know best.

I can rest easy tonight as I go to bed, knowing that the world is safe in your organised, inclusive and totally altruistic hands…

Not a tiny drop of self-interest troubles such an omniscient being like you…

Autoproctology

Not far beyond the event horizon

gravity is so very importantly intense

that light cannot escape

this is the domain of the most venerable

Autoproctologist

All the heavenly spheres

rotate around that singularity

in Space-Time

the one ring which binds

the ring of Power

—-

Forged in the fiery cracks

of Mount Doom

the valley of death

where rode the six hundred

with cannons on all sides

—-

The endoscope of Ego

examines sphincters

on a cold winter’s day

to see the cosmic Manvantara

there, always at play

It needs aloe coated,

quilted paper to burnish

and Anusol

to clear all the piles

of leaves

The Autoproctologist

lays ostrich eggs

with his head buried

up to the ears

and sometimes past

In his eyes

there is no us

no you, no me

only He

or She

Not far beyond the event horizon

gravity is so very importantly intense

that light cannot escape

this is the domain of the most venerable

Autoproctologist

Data or Humanity?

{The Rocky Horror Transylvanian Transexual Award for Conforming and Complying with Norms.}

Over the last eighteen months humanity has been exposed to data like never before. There are graphs, league tables, rolling averages, exponential curves, fits to data with error bars and endless conversations about how many cases there are per 100,000 human beings. People have made arbitrary decisions based on these numbers. They have spoken about deaths, hospital admissions and case numbers. They have spoken about vaccine efficacy, I have yet to hear in the media how vaccine efficacy is defined. People have been watching the numbers go down in the hope that they might be able to go to Ibiza.

There has been relatively little coverage of the human side. It is mentioned in passing. People who are not asthmatic have experienced difficulty in breathing to the point of intubation and death. Many are very anxious. I can see it in the eyes above the masks.

I’ll posit that people are getting blasé about these numbers, they are bandying them about like bargaining chips. My own analysis says that in two weeks’ time UK case numbers will exceed 100,000 per day. But we must have our freedom, our visit to a packed-out stadium and to a sardine can beach. Let’s hope that the hospital admissions do not rise. But rise they will!

What about the humanity of it all?

Do we give a shit if our fellow beings suffer and die?

Who knows it might be us next…

The box-ticking mentality so reliant on data says nothing about the qualities. It is like some bizarre advent calendar where we tick a box and get a chocolate reward. As an F type interacting in a largely T world this is a dilemma I faced before. Collecting data relating to some metric of an organisation say absolutely nothing about the interpersonal dynamics, the mood or the ethos of an organisation. An organisation which has ticked many boxes can still be a cold, harsh and confrontational place. At face value it could be black, girl, queer and disabled friendly, it may have ticked all the boxes. It says nothing about the latent opinions, the snobbery and the presence of cliques or cronyism.

When I hear people saying that we have to stamp out racism, I think to myself whisky tango foxtrot. Listen to your language!! Does the jackboot approach actually work? I suspect that there are those who say things like that because they think they ought to but who are highly discriminatory.

It is one thing to talk a good game and tick all the boxes. It is quite another thing to change and to change in a meaningful as opposed to lip-service way.

There is a real danger of using normative statistics. The norm, the mean, the average is not actually something to aspire to. How about trying to excel and lead by example?

The “everybody else is doing it” or “I was only following orders” is the cry of sheep, of the shoal. If the shoal turns this way, then so shall I and on a sixpence to boot. It is the cry of those lacking courage.

I am guessing that although people have covid fatigue, this story has much more mileage. There will be more twists and turns.

It ain’t over until the kilogram challenged nonstandard sized person with a vagina and in possession of above average sized mammary glands sings.

This has the hallmark of a fifth ray crisis which I’ll expand on when I have gathered my thoughts.

Be Careful What You Wish For…

Oh Kudos, which art sublime

You are hallowed and sought out by mine eye.

If thy kingdom comes unto me

And MY will is done.

I shall finally have it ALL on earth

Give me this day my daily worship, to which I am owed and utterly entitled.

As we destroy all those infidels who trespass against us

Lead us deeper into temptation.

Do not deliver us from evil!

For I seek THY benevolent and most gainful kingdom

Whereby I can express all the tyranny of the power and of the glory, which I possess.

For ever and ever, after all they are but little people.

And I, at last, am akin to You.

Amen

Does Having a Cock Make You Self-important, Insecure and Defensive?

I guess I am starting to touch on the nature of gender and interactions between males and females. I am not going to do any virtue signalling, whatever that means. People can identify as whatever they want. To my eyes it remains identifying with the form side of life and therefore an obstacle to enlightenment.

“I personally am a hexadecimal being, not binary.”

It seems to me there are many people with the aforementioned genitalia who are deeply insecure. If anybody has the temerity to question them, they get all huffy and uppity. They want to “fight” metaphorically right from the get-go. They view anything which does not coincide with their own version of self-perceived reality as a bitter and mortal attack. Rarely do these attacks actually happen during the course of a normal working day.

I may be imagining it but over the years many “men” have tried to compete against me, to beat me or in some other way win. I myself have never sought to do this in return. If people want so bad to win, then why not let them. If it means so much to have a victory, why deprive them?

It is really funny, but women can get away with saying things to men than other blokes can’t. Men will take something from a woman but not another man. Insecure blokes have hair-trigger hackles.

Where does all this insecurity stem from?

How many people have a great big chip on their shoulder with something to prove?

What do you reckon:

Does Having a Cock Make You Self-important, Insecure and Defensive?

Hmnn…