The predictability of the predictable and parallel universes

I know it has nothing to do with the subject

As the British all head off to vote or have voted or are not voting, I was just thinking this is one of those points in the history of a nation where a parallel universe would be damn useful. You see one of the great dilemmas of the stay/leave EU referendum is that no one for sure will ever know exactly what the outcome would have been if instead of stay the leave vote won (or visa-versa although I suspect stay will win by a whisker). You see which ever option wins folk will say in a few months or years . . . . There you go I told you so. . . .  But you can only do that if you know for certain what would have happened if the opposite thing had happened, only it didn’t. . . I hope that makes sense, sort of.

History is scattered with events where a small decision here or there changes the course of world history.  Sometimes it can be something where the consequences of a simple choice cannot be predicted either way. To me the EU referendum is such a choice. We can say many things and make many assessments but if ever there was a good example of Chaos theory in practice it has to be the workings of the European Union. It looks like it is an organised structure but under the surface are a million individuals all doing there bit to make a decent living, pay all the bills, look after their families while trying to hold the whole EU thing together while the politicians and the public complain. Some are honest some have their fingers in the EU till some are efficient and some are completely incompetent, that is the way life works when lots of folk all work together in one organisation. Just look at the National Health Service. I have had more than my fair share of being poked about by the NHS in the past stitching me back together and I can say with some certainty the staff are an eclectic bunch of mixed abilities from the brilliant to the terrible.

Anyway back to the point tomorrow as we wake up and think. . .  OMG we voted to do WHAT?. . . .  don’t worry because in a parallel universe somewhere there is a you that voted the opposite way and has woken up and is thinking. . .  OMG we voted to do WHAT?. . . .  An for a brief moment in time the two universes will converge before heading off in opposite directions never to be the same again.

I would love to see the outcome of both in and out in ten years time so that I could go . . . . well I did not expect that to happen but I don’t think I will. . . Well not the same me anyway and the other me will not tell me a thing (he is as grumpy as I am)   

Ooooooooo sorry damn I got slightly distracted by things so my post is a bit late and it appears the voting is done and the win for stay now predicted . . . . . don’t you just hate the predictability of the predictable. Still in the end a bit of chaos theory will have us saying . . .   OMG WHAT?. . . . but maybe not tomorrow.        

Poetry for Man and the Fickle Finger of Fate

The Fickle Finger of Fate

Dances in the Fire

As Man chases his dreams

And the things he does Desire

But all these many dreams

Put man in conflict with his fellow Man

And Fate quietly waits and smiles

As the flames of hate,

Are blown stronger by the Fan

And as Fates Fickle Finger

Watches mans wars and mans Rage

The hands of time slowly

Turn another Page

And History keeps repeating

All the Errors man has made

But man never learns

As the memories

All gently fade

And sometimes there is hope

And sometimes there is not

And sometimes we can’t understand

Why Fate dealt us the hand we’ve got

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Guy Fawkes. . . The true story behind the nights events.

As is the way of a chap who is disillusioned grumpy and generally disheartened by his stumbling about in the vast  voids of cyberspace with its blackness and its digitally  enhanced digital reality of self indulgence and blackness; I have decided to do a sneaky and repeat something.  You see tomorrow here in Britain it will be Guy Fawkes Night an event that is not celebrated by the rest of the world on account of the fact it is a very British historical event.  So it is an event of which few outside Britain will know anything about, this means that by repeating the story of exactly why we all celebrate with bonfires and fireworks has some relevance today, or folk around the world will be thinking . . . . . . What the hell are those Brits up to now. They are just a weird bunch of mad ex-imperialists with delusions of importance on the world stage. . . . . . . .(AH yes OK that is sort of true. . .But)

So here it is the true story of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. . . . The Government and the powers that be, will tell you differently for their own underhand reasons but everyone knows that Governments are always up to stuff that they do not want folk to know about, and will spin many a far fetched tale to distract us all. In fact it was this paranoia from the powers that be, that is partly responsible for the chain of events way back then. 

So here we have it

The  True Tale of Guy Fawkes . . . . . (Repeated)

Tomorrow here in the UK it will be Guy Fawkes Night( bonfire night, firework night) a night when loads of folk have bonfires, set off fireworks and eat toffee apples and wave sparklers about. However folk forget about why all this started back in 1605 when trying to escape from a large group of Zombies Guy Fawkes leapt into the cellar of the House of Commons. His train of thought (An old saying that led to the other old saying, he has fallen off the rails) being that no Zombie with any sense of taste would be stupid enough to want to eat the brains of a politician. However Zombies cant read so unfortunately followed him. thinking quickly on his feet he happened upon several large casks of gunpowder and thought to himself . . . . .I know I will blow them up (the Zombies, no one else . . . he just planned to blow up the Zombies).

Unfortunately as he was running about avoiding Zombies and trying to set fire to the fuse for the gunpowder which was a bit damp, a large group of politicians arrived in the cellar to see what all the noise was about.  Zombies hate politicians they taste terrible (still true to this day) so they ran off and hid leaving poor old Guy Fawkes standing on a large pile of explosives with a box of matches and because no one liked and still dont like politicians they sort of got the wrong idea about him, thinking he was trying to blow them up. A classic case of political paranoia, I mean as if anyone would think about doing such a thing.

Of course poor old Guy was hung as they did back then for almost everything and it was only afterwards that it was discovered that he was trying to blow up Zombies. So feeling a bit guilty and knowing that no one liked them anyway the politicians thought it best to celebrate him with a jolly uplifting event with bonfires (everyone loves a bonfire) where folk could burn a Zombie on it (everyone loves Zombies). Then after several accidents where the Zombie escaped and ate small children it was decided to burn an effigy of a Zombie instead, which folk like to call Guy after that gorilla that can bend folks.




I will now run off back into the digital blackness of cyberspace to sulk and point at things like seagulls. . . .they get everywhere  

The Mighty God of the Sky, A slice of Bread and a Huge Beast.

I was eating my evening meal, a quiche with fried potatoes and salad followed by raspberry crumble and double cream and looking out of the window. We have very large windows this house is the lightest house (as in light rather than not heavy) I have ever lived in.  And as I looked out over the horizon there appeared a huge dragon like beast with eyes and pointy teeth and wings. It was all blue and grey and huge I mean really huge filling a fair bit of the sky and getting bigger all the time. Anyway I got distracted by my food for a minute or two as I pondered which slice of bread to eat. 

Looking back out of the window I was then shocked to see the large beast with its pointy teeth and wings had vanished and the sky was now full of nothing but a big blue grey cloud drifting eastwards in a cloud like manner. . . . Well that was mighty odd indeed.

But it got me into thinking about stuff in the sky, we don’t really have the same link with the sky like our ancestors did going back in time. I mean it was how humans managed to navigate all over the world looking at the stars in the sky and watching the sun and stuff like that. And then going back at least 2000 to 3000 years plus ago humans would make huge great stone circles to celebrate the Sun arriving in the morning and then very conveniently vanishing in the evening so that folk could have a sleep. Yes these were the Suns glory days when it was treated like a God.  Although the Sun still goes round and round the Earth (Yes Yes I know Bloody science has ruined that theory well and proper) giving us a nice confidently length, twenty four hour day (Phew that is lucky) no one goes out and leaps about at it calling it a God. . . . . OK not entirely true there are folk who go and wave at the Sun but they are a bit of a mixed bunch to say the least.

Maybe a few more stone circles and chanting might just help the Sun regain its pride and show up in a bit more of a God like way, that would be much appreciated around here. 

The Origin of Halloween . . Big Questions Answered

Halloween what’s that all about then, is definitely one of the big questions of the moment and it is time someone answered it properly. If you search cyberspace you will be bombarded with loads of stuff, but it will all be a bit wishy washy (no not as in Pantomime but as in vague).  This is what always happens when paganism meets religion, but not here no, you will get to know exactly what’s going on.

Firstly it is important to take note of the time of year, and the weather, this year in Britain is a classic to explain why this all started up. We had a fairly good summer and the sun sort of held on over September and then October arrived and the weather has crashed big time, it is dull, damp and getting cold.  So way back in the days when we were all tribal and waved sticks and worshipped the sun and the like (the good old days) what did folk do to get themselves through the long hard winters, remember there was no central heating unless you were a Roman. Well they had parties or as we like to call them now Rituals, yes everyone likes a party but in general we need a reason for them stuff like birthdays, passing exams, catching your first crocodile and the like.  Back in the old days folk would associate these events with their local god and Halloween also got linked to celebrating the dead. Things were different then, death was not all gravestones tears and flowers, it was big fires feasting and dressing up.  Remember the old ancestors did not vanish they were and are still about and it was good manners to show some respect an maybe burn a huge effigy of an Elk and wear a big mask and go and visit all the locals, eat, drink, dance, cheer and wave pointy sticks.

However main stream religion got involved and said it was a Christian event in a cunning plan to get rid of all these other gods and effigies. But old customs are difficult to get rid of and before you know it small children were doing trick or treat all over the world. In particular the whole event appealed to the USA having arrived with the Irish and Scottish way back (they were good at this stuff) and the spirits of the dead were turned into monsters, mummies, vampires, huge things with pointy teeth, witches and the like. This allowed the corporate business world in the USA to make a killing (no pun intended) by selling all sorts of gruesome characters made out of China’s very best genuine recycled plastic. As well as packets of dodgy sugary things that are needed to give to the swarms of trick or treat children that turn up at your door sort of saying things like . . . . .give us stuff or we set fire to the rabbit hutch. . . 

These days with it all being witches and monsters and the like religion has got all funny about it and say it’s the work of the devil. They really should have just left it alone and let the pagans have a party for their long lost ancestors round a big fire and eating and generally having a good time, much like they do at Christmas. . . . . . . AH.

Anyway there you have it that is the Origin of Halloween . . . . sort of        

The IDIOTS Timeline of scientific discovery and a piano.

With a quiet day to write about I think it might be best to skip the basic details about sharpening axes, doing a little IT and pointing at the piano and saying those white keys are called notes and those pedals are the accelerator and brake. It appears most pianos are Automatics; well actually they are not only the electronic ones are in general, allowing you to get on with other stuff as they play away to their hearts content. It makes practicing so much easier. 

All this is a distraction because it was a quiet day and I have decided to consider the bigger picture of things or Science or in particular the frontiers of science.  Yes the frontiers of science do not progress in a linear way they sort of make sudden little skips and then fizzle out for a bit and then skip forward again. History shows us many of these little leaps and I think we should look closely at them.

Step one . . . . . . . Tools (3 million years ago)

This is where man parted from the other critters on the planet he started to use tools such as clubs, pointy things like sticks knifes and axes.  This was a seriously major step we still use all these tools to this day.

 Step two . . . . . . Boats (10,000 years)

Folk forget about boats but man would never have colonized the entire world without boats and they are still a key part of the global economy

Step three . . . . . . . Wheels (7 thousand years ago)

Man has always liked to move big heavy things about and it started with rollers and ropes but then some bright spark fixed the roller to the heavy thing and created transport. Where would we be today without transport, it is the backbone of almost everything.

Step four . . . . . .  Smelting (6 thousand years ago)

Yes the production of metals such as iron and Bronze are so critical to mankind that we even have an Iron Age and a Bronze Age and yet again without metals modern life would not exist.

Step five . . . . . . . Engines (1698)

The invention of the steam engine meant that us humans could do loads of stuff more than we could ever do by hand or using animals or slaves without the steam engine the industrial revolution would not have happened.  The steam engine sort of lead to the oil based engine and allowed us to make transport that could go anywhere.

Step six . . . . . . . . Electricity (1800)

Electricity took a while to get going but just look what happens when we have a power cut. . . . . Enough said.

Step Seven . . . . . . Electronics (1950)

This has led to the computer, the internet, my blog and all sorts of clever stuff as long as we still have electricity.

So that’s it that is everything covered and shows the key steps man has taken in the last three million years or so, If you think I have missed something important please let me know

A look back to events three years ago. . . .Things change

Today I have managed to draw a picture but have not had time to write a single word for the blog so to get round this terrible event I have decided to repost the events from my diary from the 16th August 2011. A time when it was not read much and I still lived with the Dream that the very nice Steven Spielberg might turn up. This was before the very nice Steven Spielberg dashed my hopes against the sharp rocks of disappointment and stabbed me with the pointy sticks of failure and obscurity.  . . . . . . It's OK I bounce back everytime much to the annoyance of the very nice Steven Spielberg.

It has been one of those non days yet again this is not good near the end of book one. But it’s what happens in real life, it has moments like that. Quite a lot of moments like that as it happens. One thing I have learnt from the Ghost Writer is that exciting lives are not exciting all the time and some perceived exciting lives are actually somewhat pedestrian. Particularly if you are in fact a pedestrian.

Mercedes has spent the day in the woods leading a protest group against Jims filming. The group which mainly consists of a rag-tag collection of slightly uninteresting mammals are demanding equal rights in the docu-film and say it is unfair that the vast majority of their appearances so far have been as dinner for something a bit bigger; or more interesting.  She has been a little disappointed so far by the lemmings who she said seem to follow anything and who stupidly followed a rock over the edge of the cliff face. Jim said if was great action movie material all the little lemming clutching their protest banners and screaming as they fell into the abyss. Which was entirely the opposite effect of what Mercedes wanted?

 Mum has explained to Mercedes that left wing politics is full of such dilemmas and the idealist principles of left wing philosophy always go wrong for some reason, history is full of such events from the early days of communist Russia and China to the commune society of the sixties etc, to Uncle Franks revolutionary march on the tea shop in 1974 which ended in broken tea pots and Uncle Frank’s picture on the front page of the national newspapers wearing only an old university tie. Uncle Frank still insists on showing it to the nurses at the home

Pirate Pete is collecting together all his belonging for his new epic adventure at sea and we have had a message that a Pirate ship has anchored in the bay by the Spy Glass Inn on the island in the lake in the park in town. if by any chance you are thinking where, what etc, it’s a long story and best if you return to page one of the book again and take notes. To tell the truth I should have done that as I really don’t know what’s going on anymore, which is what the Ghost Writer says when he returns from his grey office. 



Back to now

Sorry half of you are well confused now but three years is a long time stuff happens.

A new colourful theory about Neanderthal man and the origin of Art

Last night as I struggled to draw something interesting like a mad dog eating a Vampire Lemming that had been distracted by the arrival of Mechanical Zombie Aliens riding giant Goats. The thought went through my mind that where did all this drawing stuff start. The reason I thought that was because my drawing was taking on a distinct prehistoric image, more dinosaur (the Fidosaurous) than dog. The earliest drawings of course being those of strange beasts on the walls of caves by Stone Age man some ten thousand plus years ago.

As I pondered this thinking why would they suddenly do this (draw and paint on cave walls), after all Lions and Bears don’t, I had this sudden flash of genius. You see if you look at the last few ancient tribes that live in the world today, one of the things they like to do is dress up in costume and paint their faces and bodies.  Most folk even now like a good party or carnival and will paint their faces and dress up in fancy dress and feathers at the drop of a hat.

So it is a small step from covering yourself in paint and leaping about with your mates to using the paint on the walls of your cave to cheer it up a bit. . . . . This may not sound very exciting but it is, because what it implies is early Neanderthal man was not just a hairy club carrying grey sort of chap, but was a colourful and bright chap with each tribe doing its own distinct thing to distinguish it from its rivals.

Now some of you will be saying that is all well and good but so what . . . . . Well I am letting the world know of my theory of the origin of Art and the shock news that the very early ancestors of mankind were in fact a jolly colourful bunch. . . . By announcing this now I should be in time to get some sort of award before the end of the year, something shiny with my name on it is large letters. . . . . A Nobel Prize for History would be good, to go with the one for Science. . . .   

The Final Analysis of the 2014 Brazil World Cup and its achievements.

As the long reaching arms of the Knights Templar inevitably encircle the Holy Grail (World Cup) and the world watches knowing there is nothing they can do to stop it now (you will need to read this if you do not understand why). Little do they realise what I have discovered, which now makes their efforts futile. You see we need to look at the achievements of the World Cup as a competition in the cold light of day.

So what exactly has the 2014 Brazilian World Cup achieved as the two final teams (Argentina and Germany) face one another in their true colours?

Have the people of Brazil been left proud knowing that although they did not win, their team played like they loved football, like they did as kids on the beach pretending to be Pele or Jairzinho, running up the pitch being creative and taking risks . . . . . . .  AH NO.

Did it help to solve the terrible inequality and poverty that still exists in Brazil. . . . . . AH NO.

Were the ordinary folk of Brazil able to get tickets rather than them being all sold off at huge profits to the rich corporate bodies and the like. . . . AH NO.

Will the World Cup legacy help Brazil in the future. . . . . . . AH NO

Did it help just a little towards World Peace and understanding, a competition of true sportsmanship   . . . . . . . AH NO.

Has it made the World a better place . . . . . . . AH NO.

Is it the taking part not the winning that is important. . . . . . . . AH NO

Has the corporate world taken over the event so that it has become a money making machine for a few from advertising and appealing to corporate greed and elitism of the few. . . . . . AH YES.

So it is clear that the World Cup can not be the Holy Grail, but just a lump of gold or the whole competition would be an open, harmonious, and happy event without all that money stuff lurking in the background and all the secret wheeler dealing leading to suspicion of greed and corruption and a few men on a power trip.

So now I need to work out exactly where that Holy Grail is before you know who starts sending its Androids after me.

What’s that you say Skippy . . . . . . The old Funfair near Stockdale . . . . . . . Surely not. 

The Origin of the word Android . . . . A True Story to Tell at Breakfast . . . (sort of true-ish...a bit)

Many people enjoying a sci-fi film or book and reading of Androids will seldom if ever think about the origin of the Android, it is after all a funny old word and an idea that can be traced back to the ninetieth century. But the real truth about the origins of Androids has been lost to all but a small group of Scientists, historians and Android enthusiasts.

You see the ninetieth century was a time of much scientific advancement across many disciplines; it was also a time in the history of man of much insecurity and political volatility throughout Europe, where one army would march on another.

So much thought was put into ways and means of defeating the armies of your enemies as they jousted for supremacy. It was into this world that a young and brilliant scientist was thrust by his countries leaders in the heart of Europe. 

Young Augustus Von Androidus was a genius and a master of building Automata, but he had said that with the right resources he could make a fully independent walking, talking and thinking mechanical man. And so the great German leadership of the time gave him everything he needed to do this, they wanted   Young Augustus Von Androidus to build an invincible army of mechanical fighting men.

Using the very best designs for suits of armour Augustus Von Androidus build sophisticated mechanical structures and mechanisms into them powered by concentric vibration activated coil winders and multilayer bimetal ratchet drives, meaning his warriors were self powered and could operate forever in theory. Added to this the use of infinitely variable cam drive systems allowed the worriers to think for themselves and learn as they fought, so they would never lose any battle..

After many years a group (the number of which is unknown) of worriers now called Androids were finally complete and a battle against an elite force was arranged as a test deep in the heart of the Black forest in a large clearing.  The Androids lined up as the elite of the German Army prepared themselves to attack, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.  But then the silence was suddenly broken as a small child skipped across the field picking flowers.

The small child curious at the small army of shiny Androids ran up to see them and offered one of them a flower, but as the android bent down to take the flower the men of the German Army shouted at the child to go away and threw a rock at it. This made the small child cry dropping all the flowers as it ran off home. It was at this point that the Androids all looked at each other and realised that fighting and war were futile and wrong so they dropped their weapons and vanished into the forest.

The German authorities covered the entire story up as they could hardly tell the public that they had lost a army of mechanical fighting men (Androids) which meant Augustus Von Androidus was never recognized by the world for his greatest achievement.  Then a few years later someone else claimed that they had thought of the term Android rather to the annoyance of Augustus Von Androidus.

As for his Androids they are thought to still roam the wild places of the world learning and watching. Which is why folk tell stories of strange mountain men or men of the forests and remote islands, unaware that they are in fact entirely mechanical sophisticated Androids.

Anyway that’s what they said at Ye Olde Pig and Trolley Inn when they refused to sell me the all day Full English Breakfast at quarter to twelve, adding that you can’t have a Full English Breakfast after 11.30 am.

The origins of old traditions, Goat murmuring, Charles 1st and a Large Cat.

We all wonder stuff, particularly when it is very very hot again today and our minds have melted slightly and are dripping out of our ears making our thoughts mushy as well as making passers by shout Oooo look YUCK.  So I thought to myself today, well to tell the truth I thought to myself about five minutes ago because I was thinking what will I write tonight.  Yes I thought where do all these strange old traditions come from that folk do, like the old Shropshire tradition of Goat Murmuring on the first Sunday of August where folk gather in the local tavern or hotel and murmur away to entice the local goats in. 

Lets face it, it is all very well with its strange rules and instant disqualification for using trails of peanuts, crisps or beer and everyone singing long into the night as they parade the goat proudly aloft if they have succeeded in the quest, in its gilded goat throne. But it is not the sort of thing you sit about thinking I bored today lets try Goat Murmuring. It takes years for such things to take hold and become a part of the local tradition, so that folk turn up from all over the world to take part.

Some say this particular tradition is from the days of Charles 1^st, when he was being hunted down by the parliamentarians and he found himself cornered in Ye Olde Pig and Trolley Inn . . . . . (full English Breakfast available all day). They say that the sharp thinking inn keeper had an old goat skin behind the counter and dressed the King up as a goat.  The Curious but slightly stupid parliamentarians questioned the inn keeper who explained he was practicing his murmuring for the annual Goat murmuring competition. The King joining in by butting the parliamentarians and becoming docile and friendly when the inn keeper started to murmur.

That’s all well and good but traditions like that just can not get going these days, lets face it the old tradition of throwing grannies off the bus is not quite the same. Particularly as it happens every Friday night rather than once a year.

Ooooooo while I was away I saw a huge cat called Ben he was really huge, but rubbish at Cat murmuring and never caught a Dolphin.              

Liberties of London, a small Japanese Sheepdog and Zombies from the Wizard of Oz....

Sundays as I have said before have been very quiet in cyberspace, however this can be good and bad depending on how you think of cyberspace. If you see it as a party in a large hall full of interesting folk and you turn up and find they are all at home and the only person to speak too is a small Japanese sheepdog who has had a bad day and is rambling on about lions, tin robots and straw men. Having first lost his barrel of brandy then the sheep refusing to cooperate, that are now all outside with protest banners saying We Prefer Welsh Sheepdogs; Well then Sunday is not a good day to be wandering about in cyberspace. But if you think of cyberspace as a big store like Harrods or Liberties of London and you have turned up and it is entirely empty except for say a little old lady who is testing umbrellas by stabbing at manikins with them and shouting don’t you come round here with your furry gingerbread penguin ONESIE ASKING if I have seen the Zombie from the Wizard of Oz . . .(sorry distracted a bit there), then Sundays are a great day. Where you can run up and down the aisles doing things like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa or sending slinky’s  up and down in the lifts to confuse them. Or making Lemon Bon Bon sweet circles so that on Monday morning the staff will assume the store has been visited by aliens, until they see the moustache on the Mona Lisa, then they will blame me…….. They did last time……..

So what did I do today well I re-potted a palm, that’s the plant not the part of someone’s hand; I have worked out that the Ghost Writers car has a hydraulic problem so may not need a new clutch; I dug a small hole and I defrosted a small freezer. OOOoooooo and I ate a pork pie . . . . . . YUM

I also discovered an ancient wooden monument designed to point at the moon in the early evening, I have not worked out what the exact significance of this monument was in the past, although I have reason to believe it was to do with harnessing the power of electricity from lightning strikes which was then used to light flares for the various Micro Gods of our ancestors, ancestors such as little old ladies testing umbrellas who would navigate using the light of the flares to avoid Zombies in ruby red slippers out walking their dog Toto, a small Japanese sheepdog that has lost its sheep somewhere on the notorious Curdsand Way.     

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The true History of Guy Fawkes and other things

Today in the UK it is Guy Fawkes Night when loads of folk have bonfires, set off fireworks and eat toffee apples and wave sparklers about. However folk forget about why all this started back in 1605 when trying to escape from a large group of Zombies Guy Fawkes leapt into the cellar of the House of Commons. His train of thought (yes another saying that led to the saying, he has fallen off the rails) was that no Zombie with any sense of taste would be stupid enough to want to eat the brains of a politician. However Zombies cant read so followed him, so thinking quickly he happened upon several large casks of gunpowder and thought to himself . . . . .I know I will blow them up.

Unfortunately as he was running about avoiding Zombies and trying to set fire to the fuse for the gunpowder a large group of politicians arrived in the cellar to see what all the noise was about.  Zombies hate politicians they taste terrible so they ran off and hid leaving poor old Guy Fawkes standing on a large pile of explosives with a box of matches and as no one likes politicians they sort of got the wrong idea about him thinking he was trying to blow them up. 

Of course poor old Guy was hung and it was only afterwards that it was discovered that he was trying to blow up Zombies, so feeling a bit guilty and knowing that no one liked them anyway the politicians thought it best to celebrate him with a jolly uplifting event with bonfires where folk could burn a Zombie on it. Then after several accidents where the Zombie escaped and ate small children it was decided to burn an effigy of a Zombie instead.

We will be heading off to see Mr M again soon but have discovered, thanks to Miss Fionaski the Famous Russian Spy that it will be possible for him to have a Buddhist funeral service locally which is something he would like, so we will be passing on the information to his son later; although it is on microfilm and in code . . . . . . AH DAMN.

The Definitive History of Good Friday and Everything.

It is Good Friday today and I have to say I am a little puzzled by all this because although I am not a religious eccentric child of cyberspace I do know it was not the best day for Jesus (that’s Jesus as in THE Jesus and not Jesus as in Mr ESB’s friend in the diner in Texas).  So there must be an explanation as to why it is good. And bearing in mind it was not a good day in religious terms it is time to ponder other reasons why it might be good.  One lucky coincidence is that Good Friday is a national holiday in a huge number of countries which gives those who are religious the opportunity to go to church, if it was a normal working day (OK it is these days for many) it would be tricky. And it gives us in the west an opportunity to eat loads of chocolate in the shape of eggs and rabbits, although this is good it is also confusing, because I do know that rabbits don’t lay eggs. Ducks lay eggs but you seldom see a chocolate duck, although you might duck if someone throws an egg at you which would not be good.

 We could ask ourselves the old question . . . . . . . . which came first the rabbit or the egg, but that might confuse things even more so what is all this all about, why do we need to know and even more worrying why have I not got any Easter Eggs this year.

OK it appears we have overlapping stuff going on and history dictates that events of importance that are commemorated each year will over long periods of time be subject to clustering. So important pre Christian events and important Christian events will cluster to end up on the same day (its far more practical), thus the fertility rites of the ancient Celts leaping about in the early spring waving eggs, rabbits and hares about and the religious events of Easter end up on the same day, even if they originally were not. Then it all gets confused and no one can remember which bit of which ceremony is connected to which, resulting in loads of folk getting angry when they see chocolate Popes for sale and Druids being chased out of IKEA.

So there you have it Good Friday is an anomaly of Historic events from the Christian religions of relatively modern history right back to the old rituals of pre history, and spring is the start of the warm weather (well it should be) in the northern hemisphere, add some dodgy translation over time as a few re writes of both historic and religious books and the odd tweek  to stuff to suit the powers that be and you are left with only one certainty in life, The diary of Rob Z Tobor the definitive history of everything in the year 2525. 

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The geography of motte and bailey and things of no importance

I was discussing my impenetrable defence trench at school today with the geography teacher as I thought he might be able to help by suggesting ways of contouring the land to improve our defence. You see there is a weakness in our location because less than one hundred yards behind the house are the remains of motte and bailey from way back in history, something that myself and the dog think might be used by intelligent zombies. Yes I realize that represents a contradiction in terms but evolution suggests that with time Zombies might learn skills. The dog has already said they might try to get parts in Zombie movies as it must be very frustrating to see all the good zombie parts played my actors who are not zombies.  He thinks that the local zombies have already started a zombie union and are building a social club in a small vista in the woods called the bony-vista  (well that’s tonight’s music sorted then HAH HAHHAH HAHAHH Hah hahaha hahahahhahaha ha).

Sorry I got distracted; I was saying about the impenetrable defence trench and the geography teacher, he says I have built my defences based on an old iron-age method which is fine as long as I am not up against Roman zombies . . . . . . . no sorry I mean roaming zombies which have a habit of walking round the end of trenches, and I need to make the impenetrable defence trench at least 23 times longer.   I think I might give up defending myself against zombies they are getting too much like hard work.  Maybe if I become an affiliated member of the union of zombies, tell the dog to stop eating the chewy ones and offer them parts in the block buster movie they might forget about trying to walk round the end of the impenetrable defence trench and look confused and defeated by a huge and very long impenetrable defence trench.

The geography said I was an IDIOT  . . . . . . . . Mmmmmmm I might tell the zombies where he lives 

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Mad Axe-Men, chainsaws, trees, Samuel Pepys and Uncle Toms Cabin

There is one thing I have found out about writing an internet based Diary in the mould of Samuel Pepys who as we know also had a Ghost Writer called Tom or Peeping Tom as he was known to his pals. And after several incidents in which he claimed he was only looking for aliens poor old Peeping Tom was locked away in a cabin by his relatives where poor old Uncle Tom wrote his own book complaining he was sold down the river by Samuel Pepys who said he was a rubbish Ghost Writer.

Hang on what was I talking about  . . . . . . . . . . AH yes internet diaries (also available as a large pile of paper in three volumes), yes I was going to say one of the things that can get a little disheartening is when suddenly the masses vanish off in a sort of vanishing way, in the same way indeed as  Pepys’s (peeping) Tom insisted the aliens did when he was looking through the windows of his neighbour as 2.00am, Tom like Mr Jones was also  convinced that the best way you hunt aliens was naked….  Of course back then Aliens from space were a minority interest and all showing any sort of interest were treated as witches and followers of the dark arts.

OK yes sorry again it appears everyone has vanished at a time when I am suffering writers block, I think the dog threw it at me through the window a few days ago and I can’t get rid of it now.

 Anyway today saw the return of the mad Axe-Men with chainsaws who finally removed the last of the big tree that was sort of tangled up in all the power lines a bit. Which has now ruined the vicars budding tourist attraction,  the burning bush or burning tree. When folk asked him about the fact it was a huge tree that was burning rather than a bush he would explain that after two thousand years of only modest pruning most bushes become huge monster trees. It is also not a good move to hug a tree in contact with 11000 volts either as many a pilgrim found out although the tea and cake at the vicarage was always a good seller after to settle them down a bit. As the dogs says Nuns are creatures of Habit AHH HAH Hah ah ahahaha h ahah hah aha haha haha ha hah ahhaha hahaha hah ah ah hah ah ha

Sorry distracted again, we now have a big pile of logs for the fire, although they will need to be cut up and stacked until next year. But it has forced dad into buying a proper chainsaw as recommended by mad Axe-Men with chainsaws, so I now have a new toy to play with; I’m sure I once watched a TV show about magic where a man cut a cat in half with a chainsaw, although the programme was abruptly ended mid-show due to some screaming and blood stains on the camera lens.         

I guess I should tell you all what I did today but I have written enough for a person with writers block, although it was nice and sunny today  but for reasons I don’t understand it is now raining, still it is dark and I cant see it so . . . . . . . Ya Sucks Boo rain…….. 

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The grinding wheels of progress going round in circles

There I was minding my own business pottering about attempting to draw 5000 legionaries (that’s the Roman ones that marched about in legions) in the margins of my history book. The one I am allowed to write in not the one from the library called ‘The Roman Legions and their place in the Development of the Ice Cream Van’, when I heard a noise. A sort of grinding spinning noise, the sort of noise that a twenty seven foot high mechanical clock might make prior to it going into the full Westminster chime at midday. So I looked up and low and behold what was staring me in the face but the grinding wheels of progress. Well I say progress, but I mean a twenty seven foot high full Westminster chiming clock made by Mr Progress one of the metalwork teachers, which he plans to put in pride of place on the school roof. Well he did until he was told it breaches planning consent.  Not normally a problem but because we are now an academy the headmaster is trying to do things by the book. That is not the book ‘The Roman Legions and their place in the Development of the Ice Cream Van’ because it has very little in it about large clocks. Although the ice cream vans in those days did have grinding wheels much like the clock, and the planning process.

Now being faced, sort of face to face by the grinding wheels of progress (Mr Progress’s name for his clock makes you realize that life ticks by dead quick, OK not dead quick because the clock is losing at least 10 minutes a day. But I realize I need to focus my diary on matters of great importance as the old History teacher said You can either sit and watch the wheels of life turn and go nowhere yourself or be one of the wheels, sadly in an attempt to prove the point the teacher was crushed by a large grinding machine full of cogs and wheels. Proving to all it is much better not to be one of the wheels. It is all this trying to be one of the wheels that has resulted in so many people just going round in circles. The only real advantage I have found so far for going round in circles is that it allows me to write absolutely loads about absolutely very little on days when very little has happened.

We are hoping our strange electrical fault is fixed and the Ghost writer says after a hard day in the office he feels like he has been trampled by a legion of Roman soldiers, then run over by a large object with grinding wheels that strangely sounded just like a large Westminster chiming clock.

And Heavy Harry the Cat  arrears to be not well, apparently my use of the defibrillator did not help although he did leap up and looked very perky for 10 seconds. 

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Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Pick n Mix and the ancient Britain's

The canvas canopy erected for the family barbecue moved in the wind last night, not by much but I have just spent a little bit of time sorting it out to ensure it stays up. It has involved the use of a bit more hazel. It makes me wonder just how much hazel must have been growing back in the days of the early Brits when hazel was a staple building material. Add to that the fact there were no grey squirrels about means that there must have been a lot of hazel nuts, and this would then imply there must have been a lot of fruit and nut chocolate bars. I prefer yoghurt coated hazel nuts myself but I am not sure the ancient Britain’s would have eaten them because I think they tend to be available only in health shops, not something the ancient Britain’s had, they were restricted to Woolworths (I think).

  On the subject of Woolworths, what ever happened to pick n mix you just don’t see it these days, I suspect it is a health and safety issue after all you never know where people have been putting their hands. But it was no different in the glory days of pick n mix and not many people died as a result of eating strange disgusting jelly snakes and worms, I say jelly but I think it was some sort of indestructible rubber substance; and those weird pink shrimps were sort of quite nice (OK I lie).  The point is though things like this were the staple diet of pick n mix and without it they have vanished, much like Woolworths itself.

We all went into Montgomery this morning to do stuff and get things but Montgomery has a built in delay effect so after seeing loads of people and talking we finally escaped about two and a half hours later, rather than the fifteen minutes planned. But Manyana , it was OK we were all chilled about this.

Today has been another classic day in what is becoming the traditional summer in Britain these days slightly grey, slightly wet, and slightly warmish sort of, slightly windy and slightly uninteresting for weather. Although that has never stopped us Brits complaining about it, even the ancient Brits would often say “The hazel coppice is a bit late this year, it’s just too cold and I bet the price of fruit and nut chocolate bars goes up. And I’m convinced they are smaller than they used to be.” Followed by the little joke which was their final downfall “That new trendy iron will never catch on, you just cant beat a nice bit of flint.”  To which Isambard Kingdom Brunel would usually shout back IDIOTS…

It just goes to show that little has changed in the last ten thousand years or so except the grey squirrels get all the hazel nuts and we are not allowed pick n mix anymore, well I guess that is progress for you. 

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