Saturday, July 2, 2011


Tim if you are reading this, or if your lawyers are reading this, please don't sue me for reproducing this work that is entirely yours and not mine. Ask and I'll take this down.


Inner North London, top floor flat
All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
Rice Paper partitions
Modern art and ambition
The host’s a physician,
Lovely bloke, has his own practice
His girlfriend’s an actress
An old mate from home
And they’re always great fun.
So to dinner we’ve come.

The fifth guest is an unknown,
The hosts have just thrown
Us together for a favor
because this girl’s just arrived from Australia
And has moved to North London
And she’s the sister of someone
Or has some connection.

As we make introductions
I’m struck by her beauty
She’s irrefutably fair
With dark eyes and dark hair
But as she sits
I admit I’m a little bit wary
because I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
Tattooed on that popular area
Just above the derrière
And when she says “I’m Sagittarian”
I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
And is immediately filled with pigeon
When she says her name is Storm.

Chatter is initially bright and light-hearted
But it’s not long before Storm gets started:
“You can’t know anything,
Knowledge is merely opinion”
She opines, over her Cabernet Sauvignon
Some un-hippily
Empirical comment by me

“Not a good start” I think
We’re only on pre-dinner drinks
And across the room, my wife
Widens her eyes
Silently begs me, Be Nice
A matrimonial warning
Not worth ignoring
So I resist the urge to ask Storm
Whether knowledge is so loose-weave
Of a morning
When deciding whether to leave
Her apartment by the front door
Or a window on the second floor.

The food is delicious and Storm,
Whilst avoiding all meat
Happily sits and eats
While the good doctor, slightly pissedly
Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history
When Storm suddenly she insists
“But the human body is a mystery!
Science just falls in a hole
When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul.”

My hostess throws me a glance
She, like my wife, knows there’s a chance
That I’ll be off on one of my rants
But my lips are sealed.
I just want to enjoy my meal
And although Storm is starting to get my goat
I have no intention of rocking the boat,
Although it’s becoming a bit of a wrestle
Because -- like her meteorological namesake -
Storm has no such concerns for our vessel:

“Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy
They promote drug dependency
At the cost of the natural remedies
That are all our bodies need
They are immoral and driven by greed.
Why take drugs
When herbs can solve it?
Why use chemicals
When homeopathic solvents
Can resolve it?
It’s time we all return-to-live
With natural medical alternatives.”

And try as hard as I like,
A small crack appears
In my diplomacy-dike.
“By definition”, I begin
“Alternative Medicine”, I continue
“Has either not been proved to work,
Or been proved not to work.
You know what they call “alternative medicine”
That’s been proved to work?

“So you don’t believe
In ANY Natural remedies?”

“On the contrary actually:
Before we came to tea,
I took a natural remedy
Derived from the bark of a willow tree
A painkiller that’s virtually side-effect free
It’s got a weird name,
Darling, what was it again?
Which I paid about a buck for
Down at my local drugstore.

The debate briefly abates
As our hosts collects plates
but as they return with desserts
Storm pertly asserts,

“Shakespeare said it first:
There are more things in heaven and earth
Than exist in your philosophy…
Science is just how we’re trained to look at reality,
It can’t explain love or spirituality.
How does science explain psychics?
Auras; the afterlife; the power of prayer?”

I’m becoming aware
That I’m staring,
I’m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
Maybe it’s the Hamlet she just mis-quothed
Or the eighth glass of wine I just quaffed
But my diplomacy dike groans
And the arsehole held back by its stones
Can be held back no more:

“Look , Storm, I don’t mean to bore you
But there’s no such thing as an aura!
Reading Auras is like reading minds
Or star-signs or tea-leaves or meridian lines
These people aren’t plying a skill,
They are either lying or mentally ill.
Same goes for those who claim to hear God’s demands
And Spiritual healers who think they have magic hands.

By the way,
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
Do we need to clarify that there’s no such thing as a psychic?
What, are we fucking 2?
Do we actually think that Horton Heard a Who?
Do we still think that Santa brings us gifts?
That Michael Jackson hasn’t had facelifts?
Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
That we think that the dead would
Wanna talk to pricks
Like John Edward?

Storm to her credit despite my derision
Keeps firing off clichés with startling precision
Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition

“You’re so sure of your position
But you’re just closed-minded
I think you’ll find
Your faith in Science and Tests
Is just as blind
As the faith of any fundamentalist”

“Hm that’s a good point, let me think for a bit
Oh wait, my mistake, it’s absolute bullshit.
Science adjusts it’s beliefs based on what’s observed
Faith is the denial of observation so that Belief can be preserved.
If you show me
That, say, homeopathy works,
Then I will change my mind
I’ll spin on a fucking dime
I’ll be embarrassed as hell,
But I will run through the streets yelling
It’s a miracle! Take physics and bin it!
Water has memory!
And while it’s memory of a long lost drop of onion juice is Infinite
It somehow forgets all the poo it’s had in it!

You show me that it works and how it works
And when I’ve recovered from the shock
I will take a compass and carve Fancy That on the side of my cock.”

Everyone’s just staring at me now,
But I’m pretty pissed and I’ve dug this far down,
So I figure, in for penny, in for a pound:

“Life is full of mysteries, yeah,
But there are answers out there
And they won’t be found
By people sitting around
Looking serious
And saying isn’t life mysterious?
Let’s sit here and hope
Let’s call up the fucking Pope
Let’s go watch Oprah
Interview Deepak Chopra

If you’re going to watch tele, you should watch Scooby Doo.
That show was so cool
because every time there’s a church with a ghoul
Or a ghost in a school
They looked beneath the mask and what was inside?
The fucking janitor or the dude who runs the water-slide.
Throughout history
Every mystery
EVER solved has turned out to be
Not Magic.

Does the idea that there might be truth
Frighten you?
Does the idea that one afternoon
On Wiki-fucking-pedia might enlighten you
Frighten you?
Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
So blow your hippy noodle
That you would rather just stand in the fog
Of your inability to Google?

Isn’t this enough?
Just this world?
Just this beautiful, complex
Wonderfully unfathomable 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?
If you’re so into Shakespeare
Lend me your ear:
“To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw perfume on the violet… is just fucking silly”
Or something like that.
Or what about Satchmo?!
I see trees of Green,
Red roses too,
And fine, if you wish to
Glorify Krishna and Vishnu
In a post-colonial, condescending
Bottled-up and labeled kind of way
That’s ok.
But here’s what gives me a hard-on:
I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant lump of carbon.
I have one life, and it is short
And unimportant…
But thanks to recent scientific advances
I get to live twice as long as my great great great great uncles and auntses.
Twice as long to live this life of mine
Twice as long to love this wife of mine
Twice as many years of friends and wine
Of sharing curries and getting shitty
With good-looking hippies
With fairies on their spines
And butterflies on their titties.

And if perchance I have offended
Think but this and all is mended:
We’d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
For all the chance you’ll change your mind.

Stop worrying and fucking do something

The bad news: you are going to get old, sick and die. If you've missed an opportunity to do something it's gone and you can't go back. You aren't special. There are 6.8 BILLION people on this planet and they all got their start the same way you did; their parents fucked.

There's a fun line: You got fucked into this world, you are gonna get fucked through out your life in a variety of ways and then you are gonna get fucked out of it; learn to like getting fucked.

The good news: you can do damn near anything you want. If you work hard enough, are smart enough and lucky enough there isn't anything you can't do except break the Laws of physics. Even then, there isn't a Judge of physics or a Cop of physics and certainly no Jail of physics so you might as well try to break those Laws. In fact if you figure out how to break Laws of Physics you will get extremely rich and famous.

Much like Stephen Hawking. Now there is a truly awesome mother fucker. Born a healthy normal boy during WWII, nearly died getting bombed by Luftwaffe, Stephen Fucking Hawking would eventually end up in a wheel chair with a unpronounceable disease that has left him almost completely paralyzed.

He has, from his wheel chair, unraveled the mysteries of Time and Space, Blackholes, the creation of the Universe and has predicted how all of everything is going to End.

Stephen Hawking is hardcore. If he can do it so can you.

Learn to be fucking awesome. Never give up. Never stop. Do not listen to anyone that tells you you can't do something.

Try everything. Don't worry about failing. Do anything you want to do. Learn from every experience; yours, your friends, your enemies. Learn history; think of it as a lesson on how other people have fucked up so that you don't have to.

Here is the big one; Think for yourself. This is bloody difficult. We are conditioned to listen to people, do what we are told, and to believe what other people want us to think. Some people are wrong and think they are right, some people lie to get you to do something they want you to do/think/believe, some people hate their life so much they make up stuff to make them feel better. These useless fuckers will tell you you can't do stuff, shouldn't do stuff, or that things you want to do are impossible. Think for yourself. If someone hands you an easy answer but doesn't explain how it solves something that person is probably full of shit. They may mean well, they may be lying to impress you, they may be telling you what they learned and never thought about. If it doesn't make sense ask questions. Demand an explanation.

You have one life. It is small, short and unimportant but it is yours. You won't get another one.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Allo mein twisted monsters

nearly 5 in the morning and full of coffee and reading discordian mantras in the form of strange blogs I have to say that I'm feeling pretty good. I ought to do something creative to get my mind moving. finding inspiration is a little difficult; like unzipping a fish. If nothing else I can unlock the doors of this place and dump all the cobwebs out of my brain.

Thursday, January 13, 2011


Some jackasses can't take a hint.

I'm at work, my cell phone rings, and I answer.

THEM: "Hi, I'm from the company that warranties your car. Did you know your warranty has expired?"
ME: "I am not interested in anything you are selling, Goodbye."


10 seconds later the same phone number rings me back. I answer and start talking before they can start.

ME: "What part of 'I'm not interested' don't you get?"


Amazingly they call back a third time about 2 seconds later. They rush to get their foot in the door.

THEM (obviously upset and hurried): "Sir, I'm not selling anything! I just wanted to make sure you knew that your warranty has expired!"
ME (choking on my own rage) : "I know my warranty expired. Your company sent me 4 post cards explaining that is was expired and tried to sell me a new warranty. The warranty I got with my car wasn't very good and the renewal warranty was even worse PLUS it cost me money. I didn't reply to any of the mail you sent me and I've hung up on you TWICE! What makes you think I care about my warranty AT ALL?!

(this person then said something unthinkably stupid)

THEM: "So you are aware that your warranty has expired? Would you like to renew it?"

(at that point an aneurysm burst in my head and I died)

Monday, January 3, 2011

Aimlessly Adrift

Once in a while
perhaps at great length
I'm given to dither with prose

I scribble and doodle
with stanzas and stout
But none of it good I'll disclose

A purposeless life
is a ship without rudder
Its actions are float, drift or sink

A directionless journey
with no destination
Leaves its crew little recourse but drink

Through the fog and the rain
they keep at their tasks
Though the fear darkened night keeps them wailing

but a light they will find
and somewhere to dock
so long as they've will to keep sailing

to redouble their grip
is the core of their craft
if they want to leave their location

but starving for options
they're left little choice
as they've been pressed to their current vocation

no matter the ship
no matter the crew
we've all a journey to make

either make a choice
on where you would go
or it'll be made inspite of your sake