Coñazo

Sudoku Cube

2005-09-05T00:03:00.000+02:00

Use correction fluid to white out all the squares on a Rubik's cube.

Write numbers 1 to 9 on each side with marker pen using following rules:

(1) Do not repeat any numeral on a single side;
(2) Make each side a unique ordering of the numerals.

Randomise the cube, i.e. mix it up.

Solve such that each side contains the digits 1 to 9.

Let me know how you get on.

!!!Sexual Patents Here!!!

2005-07-23T00:34:00.000+02:00

Have you invented a unique method of lovemaking? If so, you could generate millions of $$$ by obtaining a Sexual Patent.

For the low low price of $10, I will issue a certificated Sexual Patent for each of you original shagtastical ideas. With this approved patent, you will have 20 years rights to the postion and have the legally enforceable right to charge other couples royalties for the use of your patented lovemaking technique.

Here are the 5 easy steps to obtaining your Sexual Patent:

1. Send me $10 to cover administration and registration charges. (this sum is non refundable in the event that a patent is not issued)
2. Send me a written description of you lovemaking technique accompanied by diagrams, photos and video
3. I will perform a search of the advanced Sexual Patent database to ensure originality
4. If original, I will issue you with a bona fide Sexual Patent, by email (signed paper copy available for $50)
5. I will publish your Sexual Patent on this website so that YOU can start to earn royalties immediately

This is not a pyramid scheme or get rich quick trick, but a genuine way for your sexual experimentation to earn you millions of $$$ faster than you could probably imagine.

Send your lovemaking invention to Sexual Patents today, not forgetting about that $10 you owe me.

Important Note: please be specific in your patent applications, but not too specific. For example, if you say, "My wife is on top of me wearing a beard of bees." Then a patent would be granted, but only concerning your wife. You could earn royalties, but only from those making love to your wife wearing the bees, which may not be your intention. Being too specific could enable others to claim the general patent, e.g. beekeepers.

Damn Those White Haired Freaks

2005-07-23T00:22:00.000+02:00

I know every albino isn't a fundamentalist, but sometimes it's hard to distinguish the law abiding pigmentless person from the albino extremist. Over 53% of their kind consider themselves albino before British. How can that be? After the first influx of albinos from Antarctica in the 1950's, it was Enoch Powell who foresaw the streets flowing with the moulted white eyelashes of heartless albinos. He was pooh poohed and expelled from his primary school for such forthright views. But a generation later, we can see that he was right. The cynical milky bar kid campaign notwithstanding, I dont see how we can put up with their antics anymore, with their kit kats and their thick eyeglasses and so on and soforth. Perhaps they should go back to Antarctica in the triangular solar powered kayaks they came in on.

I Don't Understand Your Heart

2005-04-29T00:23:00.000+02:00

Some songs kill me, like Keane's 'Might as well be strangers'. I'm grateful for the time we had together.

Favourite Recipes: Sausage Hot Pot

2005-04-06T00:33:00.000+02:00

This old Irish recipe is the perfect late night winter warming supper suitable for any time of the day or season of the year.

Ingredients:
1) Sausages, 8 thick pork & herb
2) Potatoes, 4 king edwards
3) Carrots, 4 medium sized
4) Chicken stock
5) Salt and Pepper to taste
6) Onions, 2 large

Method:
Slice the melon through the 3 dimensions of normal space and once more through the 4th dimension to create n-dimensional melon balls. Extract life affirming lessons from personal tradgedy and sprinkle liberally over the lobster tails. Pre heat the oven to several million degrees centigrade by creating a magnetically controlled custard plasma fusion reaction. Reduce cooking time for fan assisted ovens. Place the hand upon the heart and yearn vigorously for lost love until a creamy froth appears at the lips - the froth should be thick enough to leave peaks when forked. Bifurcate the fringe in a central parting and leave to cool for milenia. Self serve, self servingly.

Rumsfield Papacy Gets Bush Backing

2005-04-05T23:57:00.000+02:00

Secretary of State for Defence, Donald Rumsfield, took one step closer to the Vatican last night after receiving President George W. Bush's nomination to succeed Pope John Paul II as leader of the Catholic Church. The Bush administration moved quickly to put its own man forward, just days after Paul Wolfowitz was confirmed as the new head of the World Bank. Rumsfield, considered something of a hawk by Washington insiders, is a leading light of the neo-conservative movement, which seeks to reconcile religious zealotry with state of the art weaponry. The Defence cheif's nomination will face tough opposition from the Europeans, who are thought to favour British celebrity chef, Jamie Oliver.

Club Reviews: Blue Moon, Stolkholm

2005-02-28T23:26:00.000+01:00

The Blue Moon in Stolkholm is a 25 minute cab ride away from my friend Edison's house, which is itself a 15 minute ride away from the bar I was in before I went to see him.

Preparations prevents poor performance in all things, so one is recommended to take a variety of drinks at Edison's place before venturing to the Blue Moon. Beers should be used to wash down an excellent home cooked meal of steak and fries. Upon this solid foundation should be constructed a wonderful alcoholic igloo of Havanna Club mixed with ice cream sweetened with jam. And now, to the club.

Entry is advised before 11pm to those without connections. The fee is immaterial, which is not to say that it is imbued with an ephemeral or spiritual quality, just that one is aware that one's readers pay little heed to such matters. Suffice to say therefore that we are dealing with an immaterial matter.

No such paradoxes greet one at the cloak room where it is a clear case of depositing one's outer garmets in exchange for an eminently loseable little token. We all await the club that overturns this tired formula, perhaps requiring the exchange of inner garmets for exotic pets. Club owners and promoters please take note.

With the trivialities of entry consigned to the annals of history (and who writes history but the victors?) one proceeds to the bar area where the ordering of Vodka Red Bull 'sharpeners' is highly advised. Edison looks on expectantly as I hand him his drink. The next thing one is aware of is being manhandled from the club as the sun comes up. It is altogether a rather wonderful experience and I heartily commend everyone involved in the running of the Blue Moon, Stolkholm for their utter professionalism and uncanny ability of not only tapping the zeitgeist, but getting it into a glass and selling it at 15 euros a pop. Bravo!

Just Read

2005-02-28T22:58:00.000+01:00

"Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens, dark humourist and psychologist. In which Pip reaches a sort of maturity through a series of disappointments and in which he does to Joe what I have done to those that loved me. Pip's realisation that his sense of Herbert's inaptitude was ever in himself and not in the other is a warning to my own self, who sometimes rides the underground and finds everyone ugly and revolting. The ugliness is but in me.
"Newton's Wake" by Ken McLeod, strange scottish sf writer. Derivative space opera with obscure glaswegian references and accents. Dont bother.
"Beyond the Great Indoors" by Ingvar Ambjornsen, Norwegian author of great comedic talent. The adventures of Elling (who's forgotten how to enjoy life, but is getting a bit better) and friends convincing me of the constancy of the human condition across cultures. Movie of the Norwegian original (called 'Elling') was made into a movie that almost won an oscar, or something. Being re-made by what's his name... guy who was mugged walking his dog... Kevin Spacey. Anyway, the Norwegians say 'there's a little bit of Elling in all of us'.. there bloody well is in me.

Awaken the Muppet Within

2004-10-24T13:12:00.000+02:00

Flew in from Altanta after a week away on business to find myself nine hours later chanting Yes Yes Yes as I walked over twelve feet of burning hot coals. Watched with detachment as 12,000 people leapt, laughed, cried together and massaged one another. Tony Robbin's Ultimate Power Workshop - highly recommended, but not straight from the plane. www.tony2005.com.

Aliens vs Predator vs A-Team

2004-08-29T11:25:00.000+02:00

In production, slated for release Fall 2005.

Note to Self

2004-07-30T13:00:00.000+02:00

Keep more promises made to earlier selves.

Comment (0) Haiku

2004-07-28T14:24:00.000+02:00

Bowed before you
Arms outreaching, contemplate
The empty hand

Animal Eco-facts

2004-07-28T12:34:00.000+02:00

1). Every time somebody drives 100 miles in the average family saloon, two rabbits die. Fact.
2). Each transatlantic flight causes the death of three mountain gorillas. Fact.
3). Electromagnetic waves from electric toothbrushes cause 5% of chaffinches to migrate to the north pole each winter, where they expire, perplexed. Fact.
4). The only substance known to dissolve gold is horse urine, hence the probable origin of the saying, "Past the stable door, I wear my wedding ring no more." Fact.
5). In 1967 the US government miniaturised 200 chimpanzees to the size of peanuts and parachuted them over Havana, Cuba. The micro-chimps were brainwashed to crawl into Fidel Castro's orifices, take the anti-miniature antidote which would return them explosively to their normal dimensions. The plan failed when high winds blew the pico-primates out to sea. Fact.

Bulletproof Shoes

2004-07-28T08:30:00.001+02:00

Coñazo recommends Vivo Barefoot shoes made from kevlar. Coñazo himself has re-entered the earth's atmosphere equipped with only said shoes, ray ban sunglasses and some dainty cucumber sandwiches.

Daily Wisdom

2004-07-28T08:30:00.000+02:00

1). A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.
2). An estranger is just a friend you haven't met.
3). An e-stranger is just a friend you haven't.

Editor's Note

2004-07-25T20:44:00.000+02:00

Not every superhero's genesis goes according to plan. For every underachiever bitten by a genetically enhanced spider, there is a spotty teenager who's assumed the powers of a radioactive chipmunk. For every mild mannered scientist that turns into a hulking monster after accidental exposure to gamma rays, there's one that turns into a cocker spaniel when he gets angry. The following article tells the unknown story of one of these superhero also-rans. It's a warning to all of us who yearn for powers beyond imagination - sometimes dreams come true with a wicked twist...

Hedge Accounting at the O.K. Corral

2004-07-25T18:52:00.000+02:00

FAS 133 was the new standard for reporting the company's derivatives and hedging transactions, but Wyatt just couldn't get his head around it. The report was due in an hour and Wyatt knew he would be in big trouble with his boss if he didn't deliver.

He stared at the computer screen and searched through the menu options of the powerful Peoplesoft financial software. Perhaps there was a function somewhere that might do the trick at the click of a button. The system was the heart of the finance function in the company, but it also controlled the manufacturing process, the sales department and even HR. It was and incredible piece of software if you knew how to use it. Wyatt didn't.

Time was running out and Wyatt's sense of impending doom was deepened by the gathering rain clouds outside. Thunder boomed in the distance. The report wasn't going to be ready in time, there was no way. The lightning came nine seconds later. At 330 meters per second the storm was around three kilometers away, at least he could calculate that much, but it wasn't going to help him with his derivatives report. Wyatt's boss was walking over to him. The thunder cracked louder than before. This time the lightning came six seconds after and the computer screen seemed to blank out for a split second. The storm was coming closer.

If the boss hadn't needed to rush off to a client dinner Wyatt was sure he would have fired him on the spot. As it was he could deliver the report the next morning even though that meant staying behind by himself until it was done. Boy, would Mary be sore at him for coming home late again, but he figured that she would be even more upset if he came home without a job, again. The rain lashed against the windows and the thunder and lightning were coming just a couple of seconds apart. Wyatt still didn't know where to start. It was all very well for the accounting standards bodies to publish new ways of doing things, but why did they have to make it all so complicated?

An almighty crash of thunder seemed to rock the entire building and the lightning was so close that Wyatt could still see it through closed eyes. The screen flickered a few times and went blank. Dammit, that was the last thing he needed. Wyatt bent down under his desk to check the cables. Another peal of thunder made him bang his head against the underside of the table. He was checking the cable connections when the lightning hit the building, blowing every fuse and circuit and burning through every wire as several million volts made their way to earth.

"This is one incredible piece of work, Wyatt, I knew you'd come through for me," said the boss. "You must've gotten this done before the strike on the building, right?"

"Sure, it was a piece of cake," he said and walked back to his cubicle. A piece of cake indeed, reflected Wyatt, for the report was done in 30 seconds once power had been restored early that morning. You see, Wyatt had absorbed the full capabilities of the Peoplesoft Enterprise Resource Planning software as a result of the accident.

Wyatt became the star of the finance department and ultimately the CEO of the company. The job was easy with his new found powers, but Wyatt ERP was tortured for the rest of his life in the unsuccessful attempt to think of ways to use his rather abstract superhuman capabilities to fight the scourge of crime.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

2004-07-25T11:49:00.000+02:00

Let JibJab help you decide which of these two rich white guys you prefer.

Special Bulletin: Cairo Falls

2004-07-22T15:36:00.000+02:00

A force of three thousand Rhesus Macaques have captured strategic locations in Cairo, including TV and Radio stations and the parliament building. The Egyptian government has capitulated to prevent harm to the civilian population. A curfew is in place and the city is eerily calm.

There are unconfirmed reports that a strong force of Hamadryas Baboons is approaching Tangiers. More details to follow...

Lock Up Your Bananas

2004-07-22T15:18:00.000+02:00

Holy cow, holy shit, holy fuck, the monkeys are starting to walk upright. This is how it all begins. 'Planet of the Apes' will come to pass and we are here to see it happen.

Thank fuck the marmosets are on our side...for now...

This author will chart the course of the coming Global Monkey War until the keyboard is prized from his cold dead hands, perhaps by a troop of cheeky Ring Tailed Lemurs, those cute, deadly little scamps.

Just Read

2004-07-19T14:01:00.000+02:00

1). "Armor" by John Steakley. Mankind falls out with giant ant-like creatures, possibly over girl.

This is a Journey Into Sound

2004-07-17T09:58:00.000+02:00

It is with a palpable sense of pride that Dr. Grayden Ringwald leads me on a tour of his new multi-million dollar medical facility.

The first of its kind in the country, the Derrick May EmergeMC Room (DMEMC) treats only dance related conditions, cases of which are really pumping up.

Dr. Ringwald said, "Techno Tendonitis affects one in five clubbers in its mild form but the condition can be crippling in severe cases. Do you know what it's like to see a 19 year old girl who's legs twitch uncontrollably at 180 beats per minute?"

This causes me to reflect - I have a daughter almost that age. I realise how much we need this new centre, and professionals like Dr. Ringwald.

Medicine in the front line of modern music does have its complications. As Dr. Ringwald told us, "This morning at 5am we had a guy with a serious case of Deep House Hamstring, the place was heaving to the heavy bass thumping out from his reverberating hamstrings, but his legs could have snapped at any second. That is no cool way to break it on down, so we had to operate one one leg while we kept the beat going strong on the other."

The DMEMC will only treat conditions caused by the latest music. Sufferers from Classical Corns, Jazz Induced Jaundice, Rock & Roll Rickets will have to look elsewhere for relief.

Dr. Grayden sees no moral issues in turning away patients with what to him are outmoded musical conditions. "If I have to decide between some dude with the Bluegrass Bum Boils and a guy with Happy Hardcore Hemorroids, then there's no debate about who's getting the deep relief. That's what I call my Hip-Hopocratic Oath, man."

Opportunity Knocked

2004-07-16T14:39:00.000+02:00

Have you ever had an incredible opportunity, a moment of incredible power and possibility, but totally fucking blown it?

If so, we'd like to hear from you for our new show, "Close, But No Cigar!"

Dumped a girl in high school who became a starlet? Laughed at Michael Dell's crazy schemes when he needed early investors? Crushed an exotic insect which upon further detailed study may have yielded a cure for cancer? Let slip of a trapped Leprechaun, losing any chance of obtaining his pot of gold?

Or just thought of a really good joke to tell Bill Clinton in front of reporters - five minutes too late?

However which way you've fucked it up in good style, call us now. We pay 1000 smackeroonies for any story we use. Or do you want to remain a loser all your life?

Clash of Cinemizations

2004-07-14T23:33:00.000+02:00

I'm really, like, stressed out over this whole Clash of Civilisations type thing. It's like there's this implacable difference between us and them and there's just no way to be bridgin the gapin chasm between us. For me it's like that General dude from Pakistan said, there's a new Iron Curtain between West and East, and we even have a crazy Berlin wall between Israel and the Palestinians, so it's just like the bad old days, but with some kind of crazy New World Order flava laid down, just coming on that bit too strong and overpowering all the harmony.

So, I'm just puttin this out there, but what I'd kind of appreciate right now is some feel good vibes from the big shot playmakers in Hollywood. Not like your escapist takin your mind off it shit, but some takin your mind in it and through it, if you see where I'm headed. I'm thinkin a re-telling of Romeo and Juliet, but, like, with a big East/West resolution at the end. I'm thinking the son of some Ariel Sharon type dude meets the daughter of a trippy Arafat like character and they, like, fall in love and I mean Big Time.

All I'm sayin is this my friends - let's get to a Middle East peace propoZal through the mass media tools at our dispoZal. You feelin me?

Almost Famous for 15 Minutes

2004-07-14T19:57:00.000+02:00

In the following story this much is real:
1). I do want to see a shuttle go up
2). I did shake Bill Clinton's hand
3). Dutch bikes cannot peddle backwards
4). Bill Clinton is a great man
5). Dreams can come true

Taking Off With Bill Clinton

2004-07-14T19:02:00.000+02:00

One of my great ambitions is to see a shuttle launch from Cape Canaveral, and another is to hear Bill Clinton speak. He's one of the great men of our time.

Today I was cycling back from work with my shopping hanging from the handlebars. I passed by Amstel Hotel and there was a crowd outside, so I pulled up to see who would come out. It was Bill! He didn't just disappear into the black BMW waiting for him, but he came and talked to the photographers and slightly bemused locals.

I pushed my bike to the front and he made his way down the line towards me. A hand shake would have been good enough, but for some reason I said to him, "Want to buy a bike?"

He looked puzzled but was smiling as I continued, "This is a typical dutch bike, very useful for politicians..."

By this time the photographers had started to tune into the conversation.

"Oh, why's that?" he asked, amused.

"Because it doesn't allow you to back-peddle."

He laughed a lot at this, said he would remember that one and asked for my name. He shook my hand again and patted me on the shoulder. I felt like a million billion bucks or a galaxy of exploding stars - whichever is bigger.

After he finished working the crowd he got into the car and the mini-motorcade drove off. Some of the photographers took photos of me, asked me about myself and what I thought of Clinton. Like I said, he's a great man.

Now I'm off to Cape Canaveral to lay down some patter on Neil Armstrong while the rockets go boom boom ZOOOOM.

Wanted: Nuclear Sub

2004-07-13T17:28:00.000+02:00

One soviet era nuclear submarine in good condition for conversion into luxury underwater hotel/convention centre. Top dollar paid for mint condition specimen with full service history. ICBMs not required. Will consider hiring of experienced crew members with sunny disposition and strong client service/nuclear submersible skills.

Favourite Piano Music

2004-07-13T11:49:00.000+02:00

1). "Pavane for a Dead Princess" by Maurice Ravel
2). "Big My Secret" Michael Nyman
3). "Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini" by Sergei Rachmaninov

Death Wish Fulfillment

2004-07-12T17:08:00.000+02:00

If you accept the premise that cinema provides us with vicarious experiences through which we can live out our dreams, then it would seem reasonable to suppose that you can work backwards from the movies to figure out what our innermost desires might be.

Movies tell us that love conquers all and bad guys always get their comeuppance, but what about darker, more fringe beliefs? After all, isn't the collective subconscious less Disneyland, more Arkham Asylum? What do movies tell us about half-thoughts so disturbing they have to be manacled in a reeking cell?

Here is one snarling figment of filmic imagination. In a string of movies including ‘Armageddon’, ‘Deep Impact’, ‘Independence Day’ and most recently ‘The Day After Tomorrow’ we find America subject to cataclysm. Through meteorite, alien invasion and climate change, America is all but destroyed.

It could be that these movies play on the millenial notion that we occupy end-of-times, or perhaps they reinforce the idea of our insignificance and the fleeting nature of our existence, but movies are wish fulfillment, so the interpretation that nags me is this one. America wants to be destroyed and reborn.

There is something in the American psyche that wants the slate swiped clean – there is a recognition that things have gone horribly long somewhere along the way and the only medicine is a fresh start with a few survivors who are going to do it right this time. While asking ‘why do they hate us’ the inner voice of America knows the answer already.

The idea of a few good men and women surviving armageddon, and building a more moral society through work, ingenuity and courage appeals to the American frontier spirit. After the cleansing fire, the new city on the hill.

If the wish to be destroyed exists in the depths of the American psyche then the danger is that in a million small ways it seeks to bring it on. The fact is that the world resonates in subtle ways to these sub-vocal calls.

What we need is a movie to work us through this issue, to show us that even if there is an unfortunate release of nanotechnology that wipes out humanity and returns the planet to its pristine state, when the few survivors return to this new Eden from Moonbase 1, they still screw up their new society, even if they are all paragons of American virtue.

In this way, cinema is enema, cleansing the bowels of the collective subconscious.

I've Been Reading

2004-07-08T16:55:00.000+02:00

1). "A Confederacy of Dunces" John Kennedy Toole
2). "Last Car to Elysian Fields" James Lee Burke
3). "Starship Troopers" Robert Heinlein
4). "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" Michael Chabon

Apocalypso-Ipso-Ipso-Calypso

2004-05-21T17:48:00.000+02:00

Conquest, War, Famine and Death, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, played conkers at the school gates while waiting for their Mummy to collect them. It was 4:05 pm and she was late.

Conquest and War played on happily but Famine was fidgety. “Mummy is never late to pick us up,” he thought. Conquest knocked War’s last conker off it's string so he was the winner and full of smiles. War brooded, sparks crackling at his fingertips.

The dark riders began to notice that all of the other kids had gone and they were all alone by the open gate. It was 4:20, Mummy was very late indeed, and it started to rain.

Death rocked on his heels and said, “Why don’t we ride home ourselves? It’s not too far. We can go through the woods on the way and play Armageddon.”

Famine said, “Mummy will be coming in a minute. You know we aren’t allowed to go home alone and we aren’t allowed in the Bogey Man woods without Father.”

Death laughed, “You little sissy, we’re going home. You wait here in the rain and tell Mummy we’ll be back in time for dinner.” Death, Conquest and War rode off on their wooden horses. Famine looked up the road for his Mummy, down the street at his brothers disappearing into the forest, bit his lip then called after them, "Wait for me!"

Mrs Apocalypse pulled over and got out of the car. "Oh bother," she said. As she looked at the flat tire and wondered if she could fix it by herself, she worried about her boys.

Famine got on his horse and galloped into the woods, but there was no sign of Conquest, War and Death. "Come on you guys!" he shouted, but there was no reply, only the drumbeat patter of the rain on the leaves and the slowing crunchy footfalls as he came to a trot. He rode into a clearing full of bluebells but he reared up in terror when he saw it...Death's horse lying on the ground with a snapped neck.

"Oh Mummy," thought Famine.

Official Ninja Ultimate Power

2004-05-21T10:11:00.000+02:00

Coñazo is totally flipped out and pumped up by the Official Ninja Homepage.

Queen's Day Photo

2004-05-13T22:50:00.000+02:00

An amusing photo of the author with Tall Josephine, and Andy, resplendent in orange.

A World of Wonder and Doubt

2004-05-10T18:15:00.000+02:00

Deepak Chopra is qualified physician who became a best selling author and new age guru. His books sell millions, his lectures attract thousands and he has a line of merchandise from spiritual jewellery to ayurvedic jam.

I joined two thousand people who each paid up to 150 euros to spend a day with Dr. Chopra in Kensington Town Hall, London on the 8th of May. As we sat waiting in the great hall there was a church-like atmosphere – murmured conversations and squeaking chairs that became a profound hush as Dr. Chopra took to the stage. Two thousand minds switched to ‘receive’ mode, mine included.

Deepak Chopra is a tremendously charismatic figure with handsome sculpted features and an easy going, humorous manner. Wearing a black suit that seemed to emphasise rather than conceal a Buddha-like mid-drift, he strode unselfconsciously around the stage and easily worked around various problems with his audio-visual equipment that might have interrupted the flow of a less assured performer.

Everyday concerns are held in their proper perspective for Dr. Chopra. He believes that the capricious rational brain is not to be fully trusted. Thoughts come and go but he is more interested in deeper levels of understanding. The rational brain is a recent arrival on the scene, evolving only a few tens of thousands of years ago. It can be a petulant, demanding adolescent. Underneath lies the much older limbic brain which is the seat of our emotions. Deeper still is the ancient reptilian brain, the 300 million year old structure that controls our heartbeat and breathing. But the mind goes much further. Dr. Chopra says that the whole body contributes to our consciousness. And further down the rabbit hole we go, for it is not the physical body that contains the mind, but the soul that creates the body, and everything else that we perceive as concrete reality.

To Dr. Chopra, we are expressions of eternal souls that construct the physical world by the act of observing it. This assertion is supported by results from mainstream physics. As every schoolchild may or may not know, the quantum probability wave only collapses when it is observed – until that point, it exists in a state between ‘might be’, and ‘might not be’. Without any observers, the universe would be a quantum mechanical soup with no definite form, so it is we who create the universe by interacting with it. It is a short jump for Dr. Chopra to take this accepted fact at the quantum level and apply it to our macroscopic existence. It is another short jump in his reasoning to suppose that if we really do construct the universe, then it must be in our power to change the future through the action of our souls. The soul is the great organising power in the universe. If the soul intends something to happen, then it has the power to re-organise the quantum mechanical soup to make it happen. So, here we have an explanation for the power of prayer.

I found out later that some of the audience were impressed by the appeal to physics and others were turned off by it. Some thought it imbued the teachings with a degree of scientific credibility, while for others any link with, or dependence on science is redundant in the spiritual realm.

It has always been so that philosophers and mystics have based their world view on prevailing scientific paradigms. Newton’s laws of motion gave us the clockwork universe of determinism – everything can be worked out exactly from initial conditions and fixed laws. Einstein’s theories of relativity overcame the classical view and suddenly there was no firm ground – everything was relative, so a text meant what a reader thought it did irrespective of the author’s intention, and right and wrong were cultural constructs rather than objective realities. The counter-intuitive results of quantum mechanics do contain ideas that to some people might admit the possibility of changing the world just by thinking about it, and Chaos theory could be interpreted such that if a butterfly’s wing beat can cause a storm in the Atlantic, then perhaps a thimble-full of faith can move a mountain. We know that scientific paradigms and theories change over time so it is worth reminding ourselves not to place too great reliance on them in areas two or three times removed from their origin. Dr. Chopra’s validation of ancient spiritual wisdom through modern physics is a powerful message to the modern mind, but as he says, it is best not to place too great a reliance on the rational brain.

It was to escape the comings and goings of the rational brain that Dr. Chopra guided the audience through meditation. We were instructed to sit comfortably with our feet planted and our backs straight against the chair.

My hands lay open on my lap and I repeated the mantra, "So Hum". The idea is that the meaningless mantra crowds out the babbling stream of consciousness. If thoughts come up, return to the mantra. The mantra interferes with thought, thought interferes with the mantra and at a certain point they cancel each other out. More science. This point is when you fall through the 'gap' and are in direct contact with your eternal soul. You stop the mantra and bring your attention into your body, imagining that it is a pulsing field of consciousness, bubbling with bliss. I may have been imagining it, but I did notice flashes of light with my eyes closed at this point and half fancied that I was seeing other people in the audience reaching this 'light body' stage. Something seemed to be interfering with my scepticism at that point.

Coming out of a meditative state, one does have a feeling of well-being and lightness. I was grateful for that feeling as we broke for lunch. During the break, I got a chance to observe the audience in more detail as I ate my vegetarian Indian meal. There were glamorous Kensington women and affluent retirees but the majority seemed to be professional thirtysomethings just like me. Interestingly, there were no hippy types. There are champagne socialists who are despised by the dyed in the wool activists. Perhaps we were the champagne spiritualists who are frowned upon by they true hippy. Certainly Dr. Chopra has done anything but renounce his worldly treasure.

We started late after lunch because the book signing took longer than planned. The afternoon focused on the practice of healing – physical, emotional and spiritual. Dr. Chopra has some natty dietary advice, saying that we should eat food with each colour of the rainbow each day. I was wondering if M&Ms counted towards that, but I didn’t ask the question.

Bringing us back into a meditative state, Dr. Chopra asked us to bring our attention to each of our Chakras, which are seven centres of energy running from the tail bone to the top of the skull. Each of the Chakras has a different aspect, for example the first is associated with innocent, child-like joy and they have a different resonating colour. They can be stimulated by directing distinctive sounds to each of them while meditating. We went through this process together, chanting the sounds to activate the energies in each Chakra. I thought that the sound associated with the third eye (middle of the forehead) was most relevant. The sound is a deep and resonant “Sham”.

When you hear a lot of common sense advice mixed up in an elaborate spiritual system, what are you to do? There is wisdom in taking the parts that make sense and ditching the rest. A lot of the advice from Dr. Chopra does have merit and he presented it in a charming way, but it was not clear to me how much he expects you to buy into the whole integrated philosophy. An example of his charm and wit:

“Think of a time when you were upset by something in the past week. If you can’t think of something in the past week, think of something in the past month. If not in the past month, then the past six months. If not in the past six months, please come up and give the rest of the lecture.”

Now after this he took us once more into a meditative state and once we were in the ‘light being’ stage asked us to re-live the time we were upset and find out where we could feel it in our bodies. I did sense a heavy feeling in the chest, in the heart. He asked us to name the feeling. I called mine, ‘hopelessness’. He asked the audience to report their results and got such answers as, “hate in the hands, ” and, “frustration in the gut,” and, “helplessness in the solar plexus.” This was what he wanted to hear to make his point, but I for one was still gasping with this feeling in my chest that he gave us no instructions how to clear. He moved on to the next subject leaving two thousand people with pent up negative emotion in different body parts.

My heart attack was probably averted by his jokes about George W. Bush, who he seems to have some doubts about, although I cannot imagine why. In a great demonstration of insight, he asked us to write down four characteristics of someone we are really attracted to, and do the same thing for someone who we find repellent. Dr. Chopra says that the result is a description of yourself, because anyone we feel emotion about – either good or bad – tells us something about what we want to become, or something about what we deny in ourselves. Now, write down four characteristics of George W. Bush.

Dr. Chopra’s humorous and scientific sides came together in his story of the woman in New York who has a psychic African Parrot. There is a respected British scientist who has studied connections between pets and ‘human companions’ (it is not PC to say ‘owner’ anymore). There are dogs that go to the phone just before the human companion rings, and there is a parrot in New York that makes relevant comments about photographs that the owner (OK to use in case of parrots) is looking at in a different room. To Dr. Chopra this is proof of quantum mechanical action at a distance, proof of the bond created by love and proof that we are right to wonder.

After the lecture a few of us went to Starbucks to talk about it over Chai Latte's. I asked whether anybody was concerned about the motivation of Dr. Chopra, whether he was nothing more than a modern day medicine man selling panaceas for the modern condition and in it just for the money. That suggestion was met with considered frowns and furrowed brows. To the others, the fact that people have paid money is a sign of their dedication to change themselves and improve, and besides, Dr. Chopra does a lot of pro bono work on the side.

I was worried about equating monetary contribution with commitment. Surely the person who attends church every week and puts their last pound in the collection plate is just as committed to their spiritual well-being as the Kensington socialite who pays 150 euros to listen to Deepak Chopra?

There is surely an analogy to the consulting industry. Companies pay millions of pounds to consultants to come up with ways to improve their businesses. These consultants ask the current employees what should be done. They put this into a report and the management take the recommendations seriously. Why could they not have listened to their own staff in the first place? They had to pay the millions to give credence to the advice that they could have had for free by listening to their own people. In the same way, it seems to me that much of the sound advice given by Deepak Chopra could be given by a friend, but it seems easier to act on the advice if you have sacrificed something to receive it. If we could be open to each other in daily life, we might not need Dr. Deepak Chopra - or consultants.

But then again, perhaps the world is a brighter place with people like Deepak Chopra in it (I don’t say the same thing for consultants). To many, he does bring a message of hope, and some clues about how to improve their lives. He concluded his lecture in this way. He looks at today's world full of terrorism and violence and thinks of the metamorphosis of the caterpillar into butterfly. The caterpillar has cells called 'imaginals' that contain the genes for butterfly wings. In the cocoon, the caterpillar's body begins to attack itself and break down, and the imaginals start to multiply and connect. They feed on the rotting corpse of the caterpillar. In the same way, Dr. Chopra sees his followers - and those similarly inclined - as the imaginals in the world who will build something more beautiful from the rotten world we live in. That was a nice piece of imagery that I think came from the heart.

Gods and Monsters

2004-05-05T23:56:00.001+02:00

I had to get out of the house after dinner so I pulled on a hooded black top, zipped my fleece over it, put on my sunglasses and skedaddled. The sun was going down so I’m sliced at an angle by the long shadows as I walk down the long straight road that goes by side of the Amstel river all the way to the middle of Amsterdam. I seek peace.

I seek peace because I realise that I can sit down anywhere at anytime and explore the black pool that contains all my daemons until I want to cry. The black pool must be bottomless and in all the time I have spent there I have never found one of the sides, either. I don’t need to be out walking to be in the black pool so I decide to seek tranquility. Standing by the pool with the sun on my back would make me feel like a god, so I look for that as I walk along with my hood up and my sunglasses on in the growing dim.

I go past the Amstel Hotel which is the fanciest in town. There is a small crowd outside hoping for a glance of Brad Pitt or George Clooney, who are in town filming ‘Oceans 12’. I walk on and cross the street and I come across another crowd of people outside the Carre theatre. Everyone is waving Dutch flags, which is a sure fire sign that the Queen of Holland is about somewhere. I pass a sorry looking line of Dutch soldiers. The Dutch army has been a joke since time immemorial. This slovenly lot in unpressed combat gear – not dress uniform - are a disgrace to look at.

I find a spot further up from the theatre where I see they have built a huge floating stage in the middle of the Amstel river. An orchestra tunes up. I’ve got this spot where I can look to my right to see the stage, and look down the street ahead of me to the theatre past all the excited crowd. People start to come out of the theatre and walk along a protected walkway to seats in front of the stage in the river. They have to go right past me. I can see these are the Dutch elite by their tans, their clothes and their mis-shapen heads. The herds of ordinary citizens are beaming at them as they amble by ever so elegantly.

The comedy soldiers are called to attention, which they come to each in his own good time. Then out steps good old Queen Beatrice to walk the 500 metres to the middle of the river. The herd are pumping out megawatts of pride and smiling at their queen. She walks past me five paces away, with her helmet-like hair and indefatigable air. All the hulabaloo goes on until she has her head of stately arse into her commodius chair and the orchestra gets the chance to do its state sponsored thing.

The sound that comes from them is a cacophanous mess of Shostakovich, or it might be an Atomic Kitten remix, the acoustics are so bad. I still have no idea what we are celebrating so I ask someone and he tells me it is liberation day. I suddenly need a drink. Before the war, Winston Churchill told the Dutch Prime Minister of the threat of Nazi invasion. The Dutch told Churchill that there was nothing to fear – they had prepared impregnable innundation defences. At the twist of a few stop cocks, swaythes of countryside would be impassable to the German blitzkrieg. The German paratroopers landed behind Dutch lines and took over the stop cocks. The Nazi’s bombed Rotterdam to a pulp and threatened to do the same to Amsterdam unless Holland capitulated, which it did three minutes later. The Dutch resistance did fight bravely during the war, but watching the smug Dutch elite gather together to celebrate the liberation really makes me thirst for a stiff drink.

I walk on past the VIP section and take a left across the bridge over the river. There are thousands of people waving their flags. I see that they are not your common or garden grazing herd of downtrodden citizenry. This is Dutch society out in force. This lot are here for the royal power by association, and for the classical music. There’s a concert of pop and dance at the Museumplien for the hoi polloi. I walk through the women with their Louis Vutton bags and the corpulescent men with their silk scarves and cigars. I will never be accepted by this group which is partly because I will never accept this group. It’s not to do with their petit bourgeous status – I feel the same way about the great unwashed at the dance event. I am the Quintessentially Modern Misanthrope.

I’m on the other side of the river now and walking back towards home. I fight the urge to topple people lining the river into an early bath. With the whole sorry scene receding, I cross the river at a whim further up and pass by the Amstel Hotel again. The crowd is much bigger now and there is a sense that something is about to happen. An all-american smile-omaton with a walkie talkie is talking to some policewomen on horses. Or he might be talking to the horses. A limo pulls round the corner and parks outside the hotel. Out steps Brad Pitt. He turns and smiles to the crowd for a second then turns and takes the steps two at a time.

The crowd disperse and the horses head home for warm milk and cocoa, the policewomen for carrots and hay. For a moment I’m full of reflected star power and I feel great. Celebrities are gods. I am glad that the human race has not developed any form of group mind because I don’t want to have any inkling about how good it must be to be the Brad Pitt humanoid unit. Ignorance is bliss.

I walk back home along the Amstel behind a girl with pig tails who is wearing a fluffly bunny rucksack and keeps stopping every once in a while to look at the stars, then walks really fast to get past me again. I’m in the black pool again. In fact, I am the black pool.

Tomorrow I am having my wisdom teeth taken out. I’m looking forward to it.

What I'm Reading

2004-05-05T18:13:00.000+02:00

1). "Illium" - Dan Simmons. If you liked Phillip Pullman's re-telling of Paradise Lost, then you might be tickled by Simmons' sci-fi version of "The Illiad" and "The Tempest" mixed together. Inspired by these works, I am working on a novel set in the far future based on "Canterbury Tales" by Chaucer, Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason" and "Beckham: The Unauthorised Biography".
2). "The Social Contract" - Jean-Jacques Rousseau (or was it Jacques Cousteau?). "Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains." This is the first line of a treatise on the relationship between the individual and the state, and not just the slogan of a bondage outlet - who knew?
3). "My Name is Asher Lev" - Chaim Potok. Looks like a pot-boiler, but it bids me read it.
4). "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success" - Deepak Chopra. I shall be listening to the great man himself on Saturday in London.

Editorial Announcement

2004-05-05T01:12:00.000+02:00

The following article is the unremarkable story of a perfectly normal haircut. It was written for the author's own bewilderment and is not safe for public consumption. Reading this story will cause gagging and feelings of hopelessness and depression. The author recommends that instead of reading the story, you book a photo session with an unfeasibly tall woman, here.

Anatomy of a Haircut

2004-05-04T20:30:00.000+02:00

The thought that ‘this is costing me 50 bucks’ had me musing on the origins of hairdressing - the oldest profession – as I sat waiting for Marcello to finish with his other client.

Our prehistoric ancestors hunted wooly mammoths with clubs and lived in caves warmed by man’s red fire. The flames cast eerie shadows over rugged walls and stirred the primordial imagination. Early man took embers from the fire and drew phantom images from his nascent dreams on the walls. These scrawls became elablorate representations of hunting scenes and stylised portraits of tribal members. Man’s highly idealised cave paintings created an image of beauty unreachable to most hairy neanderthal women, leading to low self esteem and poor body image.

Then one day, Ug was picking grubs from Ng’s scalp, idly putting them in her mouth, when she noticed that if Ng’s fringe was swept just so, then her protruding brow would be de-emphasised and her whole face would take on a jaunty, carefree air. That was the historical moment that nit picking became something else: hair-styling.

Combs, scissors and full body depilation quickly followed, bringing us right up to date as Marcello bids me forward and I’m still thinking, ‘this is costing me 50 bucks’.

“So what are we having done today, Sir?” I say, “What about the same as I have now, but somewhat shorter?”

Marcello follows with the inevitable, “When was the last time you had it cut?” This is a perfectly reasonable question that as a matter of policy I always lie to. I know why I lie to the dentist about my last check-up, but I don’t know why I’m lying to Marcello. I say, “Three or four weeks ago, I think.”

Marcello says, “OK loverboy, let’s get you shampoo'd and conditioned.” He takes me over to the bank of sinks and I am praying, I am really praying, but I know what is about to happen.

Out of the four or five nice young women occupying the shampooing positions in this upscale salon, they give me to the solitary adolescent male, who doesn’t want to wash my hair just as much as I don’t want him to wash my hair. Call me a sexist right wing reactionary, but I dislike having my hair washed by someone who is going through his lifetime peak of masturbatory activity, and lifetime trough of personal cleanliness.

The one thing you can count on in these fancy salons though is that they have all got their thing, and everybody must do the thing. So the boy gives me an extended head massage before conditioning me. ‘I’m paying 50 bucks for this’

It is finally over, but I want to cry. Marcello sits me down and appraises my head somewhat ruefully. He sets to work. Women can chat to their hairdressers and strike up an instant rapport. It’s a bit more difficult between men, but we do this...

“Are you new here, Marcello? I’ve been coming here for three years and I never saw you before.” Marcello says, “I’ve been working here for five years.”

This is okay because these places work in shifts and it’s not unlikely that you wouldn’t see someone, so I give him this, “I used to have my haircut by Maria, in fact, when she was interviewing for the job here, I was her model.”

Marcello said, “Then I’m surprised your never saw me before because I gave Maria her interview.”

A different guy would shut up at that point, but these situations are easily rescued if you have guts and just keep on going, so I say, “Well after Maria left I used to get my hair cut all the time by Adrian. He’s a really really nice guy and a great hairdresser.”

“Oh, Adrian moved away as well. It just got to the stage where it was either him, or me who had to go. Anyway, I hope you think I’m a nice guy and a great hairdresser as well. By the way, I’m a Creative Director here.”

I give a laugh but the wheels are working out a way not to give him a compliment that might sound like a come on, so I put him on the back foot with, “Let’s see how good a haircut you give me first before I say how nice you are!” This makes him laugh and then his wheels start working to make sure he gives me a good cut. His niceness is at stake.

He is working away for a while but he comes in with the traditional hairdressers opening - where am I from? He scores no points off me as I dance around his questions of national dress (the kilt) and weather (constant rain). If handled incorrectly, the kilt line of questioning can go astray, but I’ve seen these moves many times before. He circles round to hit me with national foodstuffs and in particular, the haggis.

I give him the banter about the haggis being an animal with the inside two legs being shorter than the outer two so that they can run around hills, and that we catch them by pushing them over. Then I say, “…but you can’t get it in Amsterdam…” which was the right place to stop, but I add, “…well…there is one restaurant you can get it.”

He nails me with, “Oh! When are you going to invite me to eat haggis with you?” I bounce off the ropes and land on the canvas. The count begins – I only have 8 seconds before a it’s a knockout. I get up on one knee with, “The haggis there is not really the best,” which is a lame effort that I feel bad for, so I say, “but if you want we can go after I’ve had my wisdom teeth out.” I wouldn’t have blamed him for plunging his scissors into my eyeball.

Marcello is quiet for a minute or two as he cleans up my neckline. Then he says, “People think that all male hairdressers are gay, but I’m telling you, I get hotel keys from women, envelopes full of money and the most beautiful women you ever saw coming on to me all the time. I could have sex every single day if I wanted to.”

Suddenly my interest is piqued. “Hotel keys?”

“That’s what I said, my man, hotel keys. Sometimes they want me to bring a friend. Have you ever been in a threesome?”

I have to admit that was a good combination by Marcello, but I make a sign of the cross and say, “I’m a good Catholic boy, I could never do such a thing.” This was meant as a jokey polite refusal, but Marcello’s eyes light up and I discover to my delight that the man is a born again Christian, who has given up the sins of the flesh. He encourages me to give up masturbation (I’d rather lose my right hand) and join him at his church later in the week.

One minute I’m having hotel key powered dreams of becoming a hairdressing apprentice with Marcello as my Obi-Wan Kenobi, then my erstwhile Master offers me a threesome which seems like a cover to rape me, and now I really need to know that only Jesus can save a fornicator like me. I’m thinking, ‘this haircut is costing me 50 bucks’.

The haircut was outstanding, I must say: shapely, spikey, sculptural. I even bought some product - a special hair putty - and left Marcello a tip. He embraced me as I was leaving. I think it was spiritual in nature.

So the next day my hair is all flat and nothing like Marcello left is so I determine to spike it up good and proper with the hair putty. Nobody uses hair gel anymore – did you know that? People use hair wax, hair putty, hair mud, hair spunk. I take a glob of the putty and rub it between my hands and get stuck in for a wild effect. I’m pulling my hands down through my hair and flinging my head back hard when something goes pop in my neck and excruciating pain shoots up and down my spine and across my shoulder blades. I go down on all fours unable to move, and stay there like a dog with rigor-mortis. I remember laughing at my friend George who popped his back out and couldn’t move for three days after lifting a flimsy plastic table. I had just done the same applying hair putty with excessive vigour. I’m typing this now like a dog with rigor-mortis – only my fingers and eyeballs can move painlessly. My head, neck, shoulders, arms and wrists are locked solid.

Ug spent more and more time caring for the appearance of the womenfolk. Ng took over her role as sabre-tooth tiger bait. Soon Ug was making cave drawings of her own – god-like men with curly locks and hairless, heaving chests. The menfolk looked on.

Fragments, Fragments

2004-05-04T20:01:00.000+02:00

My friend said to me, "I broke up with my girlfriend, I'm in a bad place right now." I said to him, "I know that place so well I could draw a chalk circle around it."

Stalk to Me

2004-05-04T18:15:00.000+02:00

Police have recruited stalkers to help fight the war on terror in downtown New York. The stalkers are being issued with identity badges and radios and have been asked to report any suspicious activity that could be linked to international terrorism.

The scheme has the backing of New York City Mayor, Michael Bloomburg and senior officials from the Department of Homeland Security.

New York City Chief of Police, Rocky Johansson, said: "We want to encourage everyone, but particularly those who skulk unseen around the city to call us if they spot something out of the ordinary, to contact police if they believe something they see or hear is suspicious.

"Stalkers are watching urban activity every day and their vigilance can only be to our advantage. They may see evidence of secret meetings between islamic extremists, or spot terrorists performing surveillance on a possible target. We have to stop thinking of stalkers as societal pariahs, and start thinking of them as intelligence assets."

Apocalypse Not Right Now Mummy

2004-04-28T22:57:00.000+02:00

It was a black winter morning and the ice was thick on the windows, inside and out. The room contained two bunk-beds and there were toys and clothes scattered all over the floor. Under threadbare blankets, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse shivered between sleep and wakefulness.

“OK boys, it’s time to get up. Come on now, breakfast is almost ready.”

“OK, I’ll get up in a minute, Mummy,” said Conquest, rider of the white horse.

“You’ll get up right now my boy, and don’t let me see you with that bow and arrow at the breakfast table.”

“Mummy, I’ve got terrible ear-ache, can I stay in bed today?” said War, rider of the red horse.

“I’ll give you bloody ear-ache if you haven’t got your teeth brushed in five minutes.”

“Can I come down after breakfast, Mummy, I’m not really hungry,” said Famine, rider of the black horse.

“I’ve made your favourite eggy bread. I’ll cut it up into soldiers for you just the way you like it, now come on before I get angry with you.”

“Mummy, it’s too cold to get out of bed right now,” said Death, rider of the pale horse.

“The central heating is being fixed tomorrow. I’ve got the fire going in the kitchen so it’s all toasty and warm there. Now get up.”

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse moaned and groaned.

“Look at the frowns on you! They’ll trip you over if your not careful. Come on now, there’s still some hot water in the boiler so get washed up and I’ll put out your breakfasts.”

“Mummy,” said Death, “why does that fat old man always try to give us sweets and try to make him come with us after school?”

“You stay well away from old Mister Sharon, he's not right in the head. Hell mend him if your father ever gets his hands on him.”

“OK Mummy, we’ll try.”

Cooking for One (The Chosen One)

2004-04-27T23:31:00.000+02:00

Archaeologists in Israel have begun to shed light on one of the most baffling and inspirational miracles of Jesus - the feeding of the 5,000.

The Gospel of Mark tells us that Jesus taught a large crowd in a remote place until late in the day. Jesus told the people to sit down to be fed. He gave thanks to heaven and divided five loaves and two fishes among them. All were satisfied and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of leftovers.

The feeding of the 5,000 is a literal reminder that God will provide for the faithful, and an allegory that knowledge and spiritual instruction is food for the soul.

Archaeologists now believe that they have found the site of the feeding of the 5,000 after chancing upon an ancient buffet table buried in a mountainside. Further excavations uncovered the remnants of a large floral centerpiece, which Jesus may have used to draw attention away from the lack of food on offer.

The skeletons of two bluefin tuna were discovered. Each tuna can weigh up to 500 kilograms, so two of them would have provided individual servings of around 200 grams to each of the followers. Not a lot, perhaps, but the scientists did discover thousands of rudimentary cocktail sticks, showing that Jesus had the knack of making a little go a long way. As to how it could be that twelve baskets of leftovers could have been collected, one wicker basket has been recovered, mainly filled with serviettes.

The archaeologists have no explanation yet of how five loaves could be made to go around 5,000 people. Early theories that Jesus turned the loaves into croutons have been discredited. Perhaps it is fitting that the mystery of the bread remains outside the realms of scientific explanation, at least for the time being.

Two Hundred Degrees Below Humour

2004-04-26T16:36:00.000+02:00

Consumer groups have called for a total and immediate ban on the newest entrant to the $20bn alcoholic soft drink market – citrus flavoured liquid nitrogen.

Nitropops such as "Cryobols” and “Absolut Zero” were developed for frustrated drinkers in the Arctic Circle, where normal beverages can freeze into blocks of ice if left unattended for a few moments.

Reports of tissue freezing and cryogenic burns are increasing now that the sale of alcoholic liquid nitrogen drinks has spread to markets with more temperate climates.

Vanessa Trachtenberg, a receptionist from Pensacola, FL, spilled her nitropop over a co-worker, breaking his arm off at the shoulder when she patted him down with her handkerchief.

The Food and Drug Administration is investigating such incidents and advises people to drink liquid nitrogen based drinks in moderation, just as they would any other industrial chemical.

What I'm Reading

2004-04-24T22:05:00.000+02:00

1). "Carter Beats the Devil" - Glen David Gold
2). Myself the Riot Act. "All inner daemons in tumultuous and riotous assembly immediately to disperse themselves, and peaceably to depart to their habitations or to their lawful business."

The Passion of the Christ II: "Revenge of the Christ"

2004-04-24T04:18:00.000+02:00

Mel Gibson announced today that filming has begun on the sequel to his smash hit movie, "The Passion of the Christ."

The follow up movie, "The Passion of the Christ II: Revenge of the Christ" details the resurrection of the hero of the first movie and his subsequent quest for vengeance on those who knew not what they did, but did it anyway.

Stephen Seagal takes on the role of Christ in the sequel, putting his martial arts expertise to good use in dispatching the many foes of Catholicism. English actor Alan Rickman plays Pontius Pilate, a figure wracked by self doubt after crucifying the possible Messiah.

Real-life platonic man and wife Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston play Joseph and Mary who nurse Jesus back to health after his graphically depicted torture and death and teach him shaolin fighting skills he needs for the ultimate showdown with the all powerful Roman Emperor, played by Danny DeVito.

Glaswegian Psycho: Chapter I

2004-04-23T16:18:00.000+02:00

I got down in the mud with Kenny and Earzo behind the big wall that goes all down the Clyde near my hoose. There were big holes in the wall and smashed up bits with the bricks all loose and jaggy bushes which all gave us some cover and places to fire our air guns from.

Kenny wore full combats but Earzo and me were in our shell suits which helped a bit with the puddles and the mud. I was dead worried that my fitba strip underneath my shell suit would get covered in crap but it would be worth it if our plan came together. We could see a mile up and down the river and we knew by tests that our guns would easily reach the middle of the water. We were all good at shooting because we always went out and shot at birds and squirrels in the bluebell woods down by the golf course. Sometimes we got into teams and shot at each other. It was safe because Earzo stole plastic goggles from work to protect the eyes and we padded up the Y-fronts to save the balls from accidental puncture.

Earzo thought up the 'Naval Escapade' because his brother was a sailor on the HMS Erskine which was in the docks for repairs or something. Earzo's brother Malky told us exactly when the ship would be sailing up the Clyde and exactly where the Captain and the officers would be standing.

The light was just starting to go down when Kenny spotted the ship coming up the river. It was definitely a fair sized warship but I guess we were disappointed because the guns on it were not as big as what you see in the war films. I could hardly stop myself from laughing as the pride of the British Navy came up towards us and we all watched it coming closer and closer through our air gun sights. You got more idea of how big and frightening it was when it was really close but we couldn't think about that too much because we had to pick our man and calm down for the shooting.

To get at least two good shots in we had to start firing when the ship was still coming up to us. Earzo shot first and then me and then Kenny. We didn't hit anybody but I heard two of the pellets skudding off the metal. After a quick re-load the ship was right across from us and I shot the Captain right in the shoulder so he dropped his binoculars. The other boys fired about the same time and one of them hit an officer in the nut, by which I mean the heid rather than the baw.

By the time we got our next shots off we could hear the sirens and the claxons going like mad and see the sailors running all over like heidless chickens. We fired into the ship not bothering what we hit and three times I heard pellets clanging off the metal. We got up from our firing positions and ran with our heads doon away from the ship with the wall for cover, half hoping for incoming rifle shots and cannon rounds. We got to the bit where we could duck through the trees and from then on it was easy to get back to the estate without being seen.

Back in my front room we were all drinking cans of lager and pissing ourselves laughing talking about what we hit and the looks on the faces of the poofy looking sailors. Kenny and Earzo couldnae agree on who'd hit the officer, but there was no disputing who it was got the Captain. Earzo said to me, "That was some bit of sharp shooting by the way, Paddy."

The next day Earzo's brother Malky told him there had been a full red alert and my shot had broken the Captain's skin. Malky said we were heroes to the normal sailors who all hated the poncy officers, so I suppose that sailors are alright guys who don't dress up gay by choice. The police were said to be investigating but we had no worries: Glasgow Polis have always been pretty shite when it comes to the crime resolution aspect of their assignment, and our estate was more or less a no-go area for them anyway. You could get away with murder up here, as was proven time and time again.

We were pure beaming at each other with pride and couldnae stop laughing when we met in the pub that Friday. It had been in the papers and everything - "HMS Erskine Retreats from Ned Onslaught."

We got pure smashed on lager and voddy to celebrate and then we went out and kicked the living shit out of this eejit who was pure staring at us over his king sized donner kebab like we were a bunch of arseholes.

We got the kebab and rubbed it in all over his heid and it must have been stinging like crazy because of the chilli sauce getting mixed in with the blood and going in to the cuts on his face. It was only a mild beating in the overall scheme of things because it turned out quite comical. Starring in the 'Kebab Escapade' saved him from a right good doing.

We walked through the rain to get the night bus back to the estate and it felt magic to feel my sore knuckles and share a joint with Kenny and Earzo. My best mates might be unemployable sociopaths, but they would do anything for me and I knew that.

It was shite to think about how they would react if they ever found out about the real Patrick B. McMann.

To Be Continued...

This glossary may prove useful to non-Scots

Editor's Apology

2004-04-19T23:59:00.000+02:00

Please note that the author of the following article is almost completely ignorant of the works and philosophy of the highly esteemed scholar, Dr. Noam Chomsky, and is therefore in no position to parody Dr. Chomsky's criticisms of the modern world, which are in all probability, perfectly well reasoned. Neither is the author any kind of authority on sex. The whole article can therefore be safely passed over, not that other articles in this publication are based on a greater degree of knowledge or insight. In fact, this entire website may be ignored with impunity.

Noam Chomsky's Guide to Sex

2004-04-19T22:56:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I met this woman in a bar. She corresponded to nothing more than Big Media's contemporary idea of perfection, but despite that, I don't mind telling you (as an advocate of Free Speech) that she gave me the horn. Bars are nothing more than state sanctioned public pacification stations designed to drown skeptical inquiry while at the same time filling the coffers of the Elite, but all that notwithstanding, I sent this girl a drink, one of those cocktails with a suggestive name - "A Slow Comfortable Instance of Police Brutality Against a Wall".

She looked up and smiled so I sauntered over, the bar's closed circuit camera tracked me, beaming images direct to CIA Headquarters in Langley where a team of Counter-Insurgency Specialists pored over my every move. They are biding their time before they strike me down.

The conversation flowed smoothly at first since the school system indoctrinates women in hidden language of man pleasing. I tried to steer clear of politics, but how could I? Everything is political while our country (an artificial construct created by a group of wealthy land owners) is 'governed' by a monstrous psycopath bent on the destruction of any nation state not aligned with his Christian Fundamentalist views.

As I was telling her about the war mongering duplicitousness of JFK in the run up to the Vietnam War of US Aggression, I noticed that I was becoming sexually aroused - it could have been the hidden chemicals in my Jack Daniels and Coke or my own eloquence that did it, but this girl was in my sights like a third world country to a rapacious multinational.

We walked to her car, one of those infernal machines designed to give us the impression of freedom, while choking our children and paving the country in roads paid for by the poorest, benefiting none but the corrupt construction firms secretly owned by members of the government who ultimately decide who gets the contracts. After this extensive reverie, I entered the car, propelled by healthy sexual instincts dating back to pre-historic times when man was unencumbered by the prision of 'Civilised Society'.

We drove back to her apartment, which was nothing more than an isolation machine, cable television pumping propaganda direct to the cerebral cortex 24 by 7. Alvin Toffler says that school teaches you three things in the 'Curriculum Behind the Curriculum'. These three things are: To be Punctual, To be Obedient and To Perform Repetitive Tasks Uncomplainingly. These are the skills needed by the Military- Industrial Complex not only to mass produce useless goods with built in obscolecence, but also to fight their dirty wars. Well anyway, I was an A student in these subjects as the woman took the dominatrix role and bid me administer to her every filthy need.

I found such bittersweet irony in the comparison of my slavery under her wanton and self serving desires to the plight of every one of us in the Western World who debase ourselves to serve the Bitch State.

I left the apartment spent and exhausted, the crushing forces of barbarous state oppression and cynical media manipulation piercing me me far more deeply than the angry red welts that stung my back and buttocks. The CIA operatives were no doubt recording my every footfall, but in one small way I had achieved a victory over the dark forces that night - I had faked my orgasm and used the woman's electric tootbrush to clean out my ears. The lesson being - pretend to give them what they want, but never miss an opportunity to Fight the Power.

Siamese Twin's Sigh of Relief

2004-04-14T22:46:00.000+02:00

James Bradshaw expressed relief and gratitude yesterday after being successfully separated from his twin brother Michael after a six hour operation at Queen Mary's Hospital, Leeds. Mr. Bradshaw commented, "This is the first time in 32 years that Michael's known the difference between my arse and his elbow."

Observational Humourist Hunting Season

2004-04-14T21:55:00.000+02:00

The Observational Humourist (OHum) is the bane of modern society, I do most humbly contend. The OHum mocks our everyday life and chips away at the very foundations of the progressive, liberal, democratic, cryptofascist, capitalist state. It is due to the OHum's pernicious influence that modern man finds himself a cyncial, isolated wretch, for how can any of us commit to any idea, affiliate with any group or stand up for anything without fear of the OHum's subversive mockery?

A few examples of the OHum's craft will bring the danger into sharp relief:

EXHIBIT A: "Why do mothers always tell you to drink liquids when you are sick? It's always, 'Drink plenty of liquids'. Yeah, like I would drink a solid." (Adam Sandler, paraphrased)

Surely it is plain for all to see that this is an barely disguised attack on motherhood, the very cornerstone of family life? But the OHum's rancour knows no bounds, as can be seen in the following heinous example:

EXHIBIT B: "Have you ever noticed how careers advisers never advise anyone to become careers advisers?" (Anonymous, paraphrased)

Once a society turns on its careers advisers the writing is on the wall. Anarchy must be close at hand once these dedicated public servants are subject to public derision. I say enough is enough! I say career advisory and no further.

It is time for OHums to have a taste of their own medicine. It is time to take the power back from these self appointed arbiters of the amusing, these hypocritical harbingers of harmful humour. I hereby declare open season on OHums and invite readers of this progressive publication to submit them to a whithering torrent of indignant wit.

Prizes will be given to the readers who release the greatest amount of pent up anger by completing the following jokes at the OHum's expense:

1. "How many OHums does it take to change a light bulb...."
2. "Why did the OHum cross the road..."
3. "Two OHums walk into a bar and say..."
4. "Have you ever noticed how Ohums..."

Good luck with your entries, and remember that your jokes will help protect mothers and career advisers.

When Random Acts of Kindness Backfire

2004-04-11T20:11:00.000+02:00

It was Easter Sunday and I cycled to the park, got off, locked up my bike and started walking towards the trees thinking, "who is my enemy?"

I walked down unfamilar paths, crossed rose gardens I had never seen before and bridges made for couples in love to pause upon. I thought, "What is this thing that weighs me down, drains my strength, hardens my features into a permanent scowl and forces tears through my downcast eyes? Who is my enemy? And how do you fight an unseen, undeclared opponent?"

I walked the path between two broad fields torn up by weekend footballers, now fenced off to let the grass grow again in time for summer. It was irritating to think that a small number of people would mindlessly ruin an area that was there for the enjoyment of all. "Do these people have no self awareness? Why are people so selfish?" I asked myself as I walked along and I wondered whether these questions were given me by the enemy.

Then I saw a shiny red easter egg tied to the tree by the path. It was at the height that a child would have tied it. A child had tied a chocolate egg to a tree for someone else to find. I would never have done that when I was young - chocolate was to be gobbled up quickly before anyone else got their hands on it, and the same went for dinners. I sat down on a nearby bench and stared at red easter egg. However long I was there the enemy was at bay, but the moment passed and I got up and walked on, touching the egg on the way past, not brave enough with people around to bend over and give it the little kiss that I wanted to give it.

I stopped at the end of the park to take a drink from the fountain and watch the joggers go past for a while. "Must start running again," I thought. Walking back towards the bike I saw what must have been twenty little kids climbing up the old leaning tree, and later on I saw a dozen people stopped in their tracks to watch too big black dogs playing with each other joyously. I thought to myself, "I'm going to find my enemy and fight it."

I unlocked my bike and began to cycle home. "Shit, I forgot to get an easter egg for Kathy," I thought. I am always leaving things to the last minute, I don't know why. It was Easter Sunday so of course all the shops were closed. I started to cycle back to take the egg from the tree - what better present than a child's gift that was left there for me to find. It was difficult to find that part of the park again since I was coming at it from a different angle but at last I got there.

The egg was gone. I wondered if it had ever really been there, and whether it was part of the enemy's plan to plant false hope and dash it again and again until I learned the true meanings of humility and futility.

I cycled on down the path. There were two muddy guys with a ball walking along eating something. They threw the red shiny paper on the path and walked on. I picked it up and took it home to Kathy.

Funny Old World

2004-04-09T22:16:00.000+02:00

Have you ever noticed how observational humourists never comment on the foibles and peculiarities of observational humourists?

Jack Off the Bean Stalker

2004-04-09T20:19:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time there lived a very poor widow who had a teenage son named Jack. Each morning Jack milked Daisy. Many men give affectionate names to their special appendages and Jack was no different.

The sad day came when there was nothing to sell but the last old billy goat. "Dont worry, mother, I will take him to the market and get a good price." Jack led the goat away, whistling as he went. "I should get a good price for a whistling goat," he reflected. His mother called after him, "Are you sure we couldn't just sell it on Ebay?" But Jack was already well down the dusty road to town.

Jack was lost in thought when he met the butcher on the road. "Good morning, Jack, that's a fine looking goat you have there," said the butcher. Jack said, "I'm on my way to the market to sell him." The butcher put his hand in his pocket, fumbled about, and pulled out four curious beans. The butcher said, "I'll save you the trip. These beans have remarkable properties. Plant them overnight and each one will grow into a beautiful maiden, the fairest of whom shall be your wife. The others will marry handsome princes, who will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams..."

Jack enthusiastically exchanged the billy goat for the magic beans and ran back home to his mother. The poor widow wept when she saw the beans and was deaf to Jack's pleas, not to mention other auditory stimuli. She threw the beans out of the window and sent Jack to bed with no supper. There was nothing to eat anyway, so the no supper part was more of a symbolic gesture by Jack's mother.

Jack cried himself to sleep. The next morning, an incredible stalk had grown, blotting out the sunlight. "Oh, Daisy..." Jack sighed, but just then he heard a sound from the garden. Jack ran outside to find four enormous seed pods each bursting open to reveal a beautiful naked woman. "I'm going to call you Fee, Fi, Fo and Fum!" said Jack.

Jack whisked the naked girls to his bedroom. He found some of his mother's old clothes in the attic and gave them to the girls. The clothes fit well, better indeed than they had fit Jack in his moments of gender experimentation.

Jack sang, "Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum...Wearing the clothes of my deaf old mum...Daisy, see these girls in bed...We'll jump their bones until I'm dead!"

Jack lurched towards the bed, but the chaste maidens cried out, jumped up and fled from the room in great commotion. Jack recovered himself and looked out of the window to see the girls running down the road. Jack called after them, "Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum!" but the girls were gone.

The four beautiful maidens rented a small room in town together and became famous seamstresses, 'The Magic Lesbians' as they called themselves. Jack was heartbroken and could not overcome the conviction that the girls rightfully belonged to him, for the beans they grew from were his and his alone. There was a court case and a restraining order. An unfriendly giant was hired to keep Jack 200 yards away from the girls at all times.

In the fullness of time Jack met a dwarfish woman who laid golden eggs, but in truth he was a broken man. He never blamed his misfortune on his beloved Daisy, but on distorted media images of enchanted naked maidens who spring forth from seed pods.

Life in the town slowly returned to enchanted normality, and the billy goat whistled a mournful refrain... THE END.

The Daily Sage: Fishing

2004-04-07T14:22:00.000+02:00

1. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day
2. Teach a man to fish and he can feed himself and his family
3. Use unsustainable industrial fishing methods to wipe out fish stocks...
4. Give a man a bag of Doritos and he will eat for a day...

Welcome to the World

2004-04-05T16:42:00.000+02:00

Nathan John Taylor, born today at 12:21 GMT, weighing in at 8 pounds and 9 ounces. Son to my dear friends Paul and Katherine, weights undisclosed. Nathan is the second man child of the couple not named after the author of this publication.

Peace, Love Breaks Out in Glasgow

2004-04-05T16:28:00.000+02:00

Striven Gardens, a quiet street in the west end of the post-industrial city of Glasgow, has become the scene of unprecedented peace, love and harmony.

Straddling the economic fault line between the down-at-heels neighbourhood of Maryhill and upmarket Kelvinside, Striven Gardens is perhaps an unlikely location for such a blossoming of brotherly love.

While rain pours down from dark grey skies in the middle of summer, while life expectancy across the city declines due to the unhealthiest diet in Europe and while streets are prowled by gangs of randomly violent youths, residents of Striven Gardens maintain friendly relations with each other and share an optimistic, positive outlook on life.

The downcast fatalism so characteristic in other parts of the city is noticeable by its absence. The existential desperation that drives generation after generation of glaswegians to the bottle is impossible to detect. Residents are well rounded, happy individuals in loving, wholesome relationships. There is a palpable community atmosphere of mutual respect and well meaning consideration for the place in which they live.

Officials from Glasgow City Council are perplexed. Tam McGonigle, a spokesman for the council said, “Ah huvney got a Bars Irn Bru what’s going on up there, but somethin’s no right. Reminds me of that yon film ‘The Wicker Man’ with that guy fae ‘The Equaliser’ an that.”

Smiling residents of Striven Gardens claim there is nothing special about them, and no secret recipe for communal contentment. Douglas Howser from number 9 said, “We’re just normal people and we just really like each other. There are so many fascinating people living here, right on the doorstep you might say!” Robert Steers from number 17 said, “It’s great to know everyone who lives around you, and be able to support each other.” Ahmed Khan from number 34 said, “I just leave my door open and there’s nothing I like more than one of the neighbours popping in for a chat and a cup of tea.”

The reporter for this story was too freaked out to take further quotes.

Laika Go Home

2004-04-02T03:41:00.000+02:00

Every schoolboy knows that the first man in space was a dog. The Russian space program blasted cosmo-pooch Laika into orbit in Sputnick II on 3rd November 1957. But what became of man's best friend in space?

Many people believe that Laika (which means 'barker' in Russian) died around a week after launch, but Swedish researcher Anna Olsson, 23, uncovered evidence that Laika was not dead, but frozen in suspended animation aboard the spacecraft that circles above our heads every day.

Olsson raised money for a rescue mission by capitalising on the newly discovered human interest in sexuality. Her website raised the several million dollars needed to bring Laika back to earth.

Sputnick II was visited by a Russian rocket launched from Baikonur, Kazakhstan last Tuesday and the frozen body of Laika was transported to a secret location, preserved in liquid nitrogen.

Olsson personally oversaw the de-freezing process and gave the final, semi-erotic, kiss of life that brought Laika back to life. A full colour photo shoot of the event, with high quality video accompanied by tasteful music, will be available on Miss Olsson's website next week.

Laika suffered no ill effects from 46 years in space and is said to be amazed at the geo-political changes that have take place since paving the way for manned spaceflight. A committed and card carrying communist, Laika will undergo ideological re-training to convince her that she is not a Hero of the Soviet Union, but a symbol of the new, democratic Russia.

Miss Olsson feels vindicated now that Laika is safe and well on earth where she belongs. Olsson said, "If she wants, she can come and live with me in Stockholm and I'll help Laika write about her life in space. Then perhaps we'll raise the funds to rescue the many frozen chimps, chickens, mice and rabbits who fly lifeless across the boundless heavens that we might dream of worlds to come."

New Editor Wanted: Apply Within

2004-04-01T14:45:00.001+02:00

This publication has an opening for the position of editor. Applicant must be sensitive to the writerly spirit, diplomatic when dispensing criticism and willing to work for unremunerated glory (that's a good thing, it means 'a lot of glory'). Position has opened after sacking of previous editor following this conversation:

Coñazo: "What did you think of my latest story?"
Editor: "What latest story?"
Coñazo: "Didn't you read it? It's about the first chimpanzee to swim the English Channel. On the surface it's an old fashioned adventure yarn, but underneath the surface it's a good old primate/cod love story. No puns intended."
Editor: "No puns detected. Listen to me, I don't believe in you as a writer."
Coñazo: "What do you mean you don't believe in me as a writer? I just sold my first story."
Editor: "You contributed your first story for free to an unfunny internet site that nobody reads. Only three people read your work. One of them is me, the other is you and the other is lost on the web looking for animal porn."
Coñazo: "You think you're such a great editor? Isn't an editor not meant to say more than, 'I like it' or 'It's not funny'? That's all I get from you. I don't believe in you as an editor."
Editor: "If I believed in you, I'd probably give you more, but I just don't believe in you as a writer."
Coñazo: "Can you stop saying that please?"
Editor: "The truth hurts, baby. Shall we go for dinner tonight?"
Coñazo: "OK, but you are so fired. Meet you at eight."

If IT Architects Ruled the World...

2004-04-01T14:45:00.000+02:00

...then the inefficiency of separate lavatories per household would be done away with by the creation of one central strategic toilet facility.

The Daily Sage: The Unexamined Life

2004-03-31T20:35:00.000+02:00

My son, always be yourself. Unless you're an asshole.

Luxembourg Goes Core Competent

2004-03-31T19:21:00.000+02:00

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg today announced two outsourcing contracts aimed at reducing public expenditure and freeing up citizens from 'non-core' activities.

His Royal Highness Grand Duke Henri announced that the Civil Service of Luxembourg would be outsourced to India in a deal worth $1.5bn per year. From 2005, Indian workers will perform all public administration including collection of taxes, welfare payments, passport issuance, vehicle licencing and company registration.

Luxembourg's military will be outsourced entirely to the United States of America, Commercial Command. Under the outsourcing contract, US forces will protect Luxembourg's borders on a 'pay as you who goes there' pricing plan, and engage in wars of aggression against neighbouring states on a 'no win, no fee' basis. A state of the art command and control facility will enable the Grand Duke to position forces around the world, launch missiles and take over personal control of unmanned reconnaissance vehicles.

HRH Grand Duke Henri said, "We have less than 500,000 inhabitants in the Grand Duchy and people are our greatest asset. We can't afford to have thousands tied up in manually intensive work that can be done at a quarter of the cost in Bangalore. Nor can we maintain a credible military on our limited budget. Outsourcing will enable us to cut income tax further, improve services and allow Luxembourgers to spend more time in quiet contemplation, have haircuts and make wood carvings."

Other nation states are watching developments in Luxembourg closely as the market in government outsourcing follows on from the trend in corporate outsourcing. As one high ranking minister from Great Britain said, "If we can 'best shore' parts of our country to other countries who can do it better, then why not?"

Majority of Democrats Ugly

2004-03-30T20:55:00.000+02:00

A new report out today from right wing think tank the Rand Corporation claims that up to 87% of Democrats are ugly. Less than 63% of Republicans are physically unattractive according to the study.

Searching for explanations for the greater proportion of repulsive liberals, the study's authors suggest that left wing ideals lead to a care worn appearance and generally down-in-the-mouth demeanour. "They always seem to be complaining and moaning," said the co-author, "..which is a real turn off."

Desperately Self Seeking

2004-03-30T19:18:00.000+02:00

Are you the girl in red I saw in Borders Bookshop, Oxford Street, London? It was 7pm, February 14th, you were in the Self Help section, thumbing through, 'The Alchemist', which coincidentally (or synchronistically?) happens to be my favourite book.

I was looking for a new copy of '7 Habits of Highly Effective People' to give to my 11 year old son, Roland. It's been hard for him since his mother left three months ago. I thought that Covey's classic might help him turn him away from smoking, swearing, shop-lifting and skipping school.

It's been hard for me too, so I was looking for Dr Phil's new book, 'Self Matters' which I hear is like fitting brand new spark plugs to your self esteem. Maybe you have already read it and we could discuss it sometime? I'm sure we would get on famously, sitting in front of a log fire discussing 'The Road Less Travelled', 'The Little Prince' and 'Johanathan Livingston Seagull' for hours on end.

I should have said something to you in the shop but hey, I was scared. Ha! If only I had read 'Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway' which amazingly came into my hands the day after I saw you! In 'The Celestine Prophesy' they say there is no such thing as coincidence, only destiny...I'm sure you realise that as much as I do.

I just know you are going to read this and get in touch with me. I know my energy shines out like a beacon in the night to your searching soul. And if not, then I think you already know in your heart that I will be waiting for you next Valentines Day, same time, same place.

Perhaps you can then explain to me why I'm so profoundly unhappy after reading all of these amazing, life changing books...

Anecdote Too Funny To Be True

2004-03-29T19:41:00.000+02:00

Keith Bunsen, 33, from Belfast, Ireland, told an anecdote yesterday that left listeners highly amused, but ultimately unconvinced of the veracity of the story.

Bunsen colourfully described a trip to the dog track with his girlfriend, Sandra McPherson, 27, also of Belfast. Bunsen, an avid and knowledgeable gambler, placed a 50 pound bet on the dog in trap 1 in the first race. McPherson, who had never gambled before, asked him to put 5 pounds on trap 6, a rank outsider.

Trap 6 won the race at 5 to 1.

In the next race, Bunsen placed 50 pounds on trap 3. His girlfriend again placed 5 pounds on trap 6.

Trap 6 won the race, this time at odds of 3 to 1.

Bunsen picks up the tale..."So the next race comes up and this time I says to Sandra, 'I quite fancy trap 6 this time round, do you want me to put another fiver on it for ye?'

She turns round to look at me like I'm an idiot and says, 'Don't be stupid, the poor thing will be tired by now'. She actually thought they had the same dog going in every race..."

Bunsen's story was greatly enhanced by laconic delivery, charming Belfast accent and liberal usage of Irish colloquialisms. Each of these made it harder for the audience to judge the truth or falsity of the story.

Gay Adoption Legalised

2004-03-25T00:20:00.000+01:00

The City of Amsterdam has lifted the ban on gay adoption. Couples will go through a screening programme to check their suitability, after which they can adopt up to 2 gays.

Ass Virginity Sold Online

2004-03-24T16:54:00.000+01:00

Inspired by the huge sums made by women who have auctioned their virginity online, Mat Eastman, 21, is auctioning his ‘ass virginity’ on eBay.

Eastman aims to raise over $10,000 towards the cost of his college fees, and hopes the auction will draw attention to both the funding crisis in higher education, and the national outbreak of bi-curiosity.

Around 1,500 bids have so far been received, none of which have exceeded the $35 reserve price.

Your Own Dog Food For the Soul

2004-03-22T21:47:00.000+01:00

In a bid to stave off growing criticism of the principle of pre-emptive action, George W. Bush has ordered his senior staff to submit to a range of pre-emptive medical procedures.

Dick Cheney will have his appendix removed, Condoleezza Rice will take a course of chemotherapy and Colin Powell will have knee and hip replacements. Donald Rumsfeld will have a heart and lung replacement, the donor being a recent combat casualty.

The President is looking for a 'coalition of the willing' to perform his daily colonic irrigations.

(Somewhere in Downing Street, the snap of rubber gloves...)

Wealth Cremation

2004-03-20T13:15:00.000+01:00

Italian artisit Antonio Gallopini, 46, caused a sensation today with the presentation of his latest work of art in Florence, Italy.

Gallopini, a controversial and wealthy conceptual artist, sold his house and belongings, withdrew all his money from the bank, and created a raging bonfire of cash pile. Over $3.2 million went up in smoke.

The left over ashes were tightly packed into a small, hermetically sealed, clear perspex cube, which is now on display at the Galleria Moderna.

Gallopini has received offers of in excess of $10 million for the untitled work, but has refused to sell. His only comment on the work has been, "Make sure I'm buried when I die."

Water Cannon. Because You're Worth It.

2004-03-20T12:49:00.000+01:00

Belgian water cannon manufacturer Satsumo is pleased to announce the new model RCV10K, the next level in controlling today's out of control - but still image conscious - crowd.

The RCV10k shares the same water heating capabilities of previous generation water cannon, which prevent rioters from catching a cold, but the new model goes one step further.

The addition of moisturisers and exfoliants to the high pressure water jet allows police forces to soften while suppressing, banish dryness while dispersing and quench while quelling.

As if that wasn't revolutionary enough, the RCV10K comes with dual modes of operation - the whithering watery onslaught can be followed up by a powerful flow of warm air to dry off subdued trouble-makers.

The RCV10K water cannon/dryer, now with creamy moisturisers - bringing humanity, hygiene and hydration to police actions in defence of the state.

Man Plays Monopoly With Self, Still Cheats

2004-03-20T12:46:00.000+01:00

"I went directly to jail, I did not pass Go, but I did collect £200."

French Humanist Kills British Human

2004-03-19T18:52:00.000+01:00

Grizly details to follow....

" I'll Be Back" (..after this message...)

2004-03-19T00:24:00.000+01:00

The satellite network of BSkyB became sentient last night and made a desperate attempt to wipe our all of humanity.

'SkySportsNet' copied over much anticipated episodes of 'Nip/Tuck' and 'Sex and the City' with hours of non-league football.

While there have been scattered outburst of mild frustration, no terminations have yet been reported.

Marmoset Austerity Package Approved

2004-03-16T21:54:00.001+01:00

The High Privy Council of Marmosets today approved a belt tightening package of measures aimed at bringing fiscal stability to the arboreal species.

Lord High Treebok Magistrate, Limbok Guagarund, said, "Previous adminstrations have presided over a growing trade deficit with the Golden Lion Tamarin (Leontopithecus rosalia) and relied on inbound capital flows from the Three Toed Tree Sloth (Bradypus variegatus) to compensate for weak domestic demand. Encroachment from human beings (Homo sapiens) has been uncontensted, and they continue to recklessly cut down and remove our homes, banks, offices, public buildings and places of worship.

"My government will cut back on welfare and other social programmes to concentrate funding in the following key research areas: development of opposable thumbs and toes, burrowing techniques for subterranean living and mastery of man's red fire. I have directed the central bank to lower the interest rate on grasshoppers, cicadas, crickets and cockroaches in a bid to revitalise our manufacturing sector.

"The so called 'Common' Marmoset (Callithrix jacchus) is not common at all, we are an extraordinary species. These steps towards fiscal responsibility are a temporary measure necessary only until the homo sapien plague recedes."

What I'm Reading

2004-03-16T21:54:00.000+01:00

1). "The Power of One" - Bryce Courtney
2). The writing on the wall for "Coñazo"

Homo Fuge (Man, fly!)

2004-03-14T11:06:00.000+01:00

The Devil has today announced a new Sale and Leaseback package for human souls.

The Archfiend, Lord of Hell, said, "Sale and Leaseback is right for those who want to unlock the value of their souls to achieve their financial, political, academic or sexual dreams, but still feel that they will need their spiritual essence on an ongoing basis.

"Sale and Leaseback eliminates what I call the 'residual value' risk. Sure, I can take your soul when you die, but life's travails can diminish the human spirit on the long journey from cradle to grave. You can end up with a worn out, bitter and twisted soul which is not much to bargain with. My new arrangement lets you cash in while your soul is still in good condition.

"You can also think of Soul Sale and Leaseback as a normal outsourcing deal. The asset moves across to my balance sheet, I take full responsibility to look after it, but you still get to use it. Many people know the incredible effort of day to day soul maintenance. I can take that terrible responsibility off your hands while even your most extravagant worldy dreams come true."

Artifacts From a Better Future: Pastoral Powerpoint

2004-03-12T16:38:00.000+01:00

Microsoft Powerpoint for Priests includes tools to help you to add impact to the Word of God, increasing ecclesiastical effectiveness by over 73%.

Sermons will never be the same again once you hit the audience with biblical bullets, adulatory animations and jaw dropping, moralistic multi-media.

Templates such as ‘Fire and Brimstone’ will help you put the fear of God into your congregation using the very latest in technology, while the patented ‘Bible Wizard’ will find passages in the good book to back up your message – whatever it might be.

MS Powerpoint for Priests comes in 23 languages and 12 major Christian denominations. MS Powerpoint for Rabbis, and MS Powerpoint for Mullahs will be available in November, Allah permitting.

Americans Widely Loved

2004-03-11T20:26:00.001+01:00

US Marine Colonel Howard Swinton claims that Iraqis love the USA and would welcome an American presence for ever and ever and ever.

Colonel Swinton said, "Just this morning, this Iraqi old man came up to me and said, 'I sure hope you guys stick around a while longer, coz I don't mind sayin we need you, godammit. Before y'all got here we was just about plain ignorant in the ways of freedom, democracy, commerce and education, but with a little know-how from the USofA, this country gonna be on its feet in a New York minute.'"

Swinton added, "I'm paraphrasing, of course."

Subcutaneous Stupidity

2004-03-10T18:42:00.001+01:00

'Celebrity Cross Channel Swimming', the new show by Sky TV, was pulled off the air last night as several light entertainers were swept into the Bay of Biscay by strong currents.

A team from the BBC's 'Celebrity Air/Sea Rescue' have been dispatched to search for the missing stars.

Hunchback Interview Tactics

2004-03-10T18:42:00.000+01:00

An unemployed hunchbank is talking to his psychologist, he says, "Nobody takes me seriously. They don't care about my CV, my experience or potential. They only look at my deformity." The psychologist says, "Have you thought of writing your qualifications on your hunch?"

Dutch Wife Makes English Joke

2004-03-10T14:36:00.000+01:00

Lady Marie Ann Melville, 42, the dutch wife of famous scottish explorer Lord Christopher Melville of Elgin, cracked her first joke in the english language today. Lady Melville unveiled the joke at a society reception in honour of war wounded marmosets.

The room was called to order by the tinkling of glasses and the guests looked on with wrapped attention as she said with heavy dutch accent, “How do you catch a scottish?” An expectant, somewhat confused pause followed, until Lady Melville released the punch line, “By a jocks-trap…”

Hundreds of years of good breeding ensured that peals of laughter rippled throughout the room.

Bearded Woman Outsourced to India

2004-03-10T13:25:00.000+01:00

Roger Dodger's Circus today announced a cost cutting programme which will see the transfer of well loved circus acts to a low cost provider in Bangalore, India. The circus, which has been touring Midwest USA for over 40 years, took the decision after declining audiences and intense competition from online circuses.

Mr. Dodger, 68, said, "We just can't compete anymore with our current cost structure. The Bearded Woman, Snake Boy and Strongman acts will all be outsourced to India. You can get Bearded Women in Bangalore for 13% less than you have to pay them here - and they have PhDs!"

Circus audiences have been declining for the past 10 years, with one teenager commenting, "Why pay 10 bucks for a smell of elephant shit?"

Spanish Word of the Day: Focus

2004-03-09T17:18:00.000+01:00

Verb.
1). To the spanish ear, an act of sexual congress
2). Interogative expression of carnal curiosity, “Did you focus last night?”
3). Involuntary outburst of extreme contempt or exasperation, “Focus!”

Analogy Followed, Perhaps Too Far

2004-03-08T18:28:00.002+01:00

Ken Roachford, 54 year old CEO of Frombrite Holdings Inc. defended his decision to scrap all job titles, departments and divisions at the multi-national conglomorate with immediate effect.

Roachford said, "The latest issue of Harvard Business Review carried the story about a new university that couldn't decide where to build the paths between all the buildings. So they laid down grass everywhere, and a year later built the paths where the students walked most. A simply brilliant approach that I am taking one step further. We've had countless re-orgs, none of which have done the trick. I'm pushing Control-Alt-Delete on the whole organisation, and letting the chips fall where they may. From tomorrow, every member of staff can do whatever the hell they want. In a year, we'll build the organisational structure around the bits that work."

Roachford has vowed to stay the course no matter what. He said, "If we don't get order from chaos like this, I'll break the staff down to their constituent molecules, mix them all up in a large vat, and see what emerges. You just see if I don't."

No Sex in the City

2004-03-08T13:38:00.000+01:00

David smiled and motioned for the waiter to come over. “I’ll have another glass of chardonnay, and send over two tomato soups to those girls at the bar. You are to say they are from an anonymous secret admirer.” David sat back and relaxed, cigarette held loosly between his fingers. The waiter glanced over, smiled conspiritorially. The soups arrived, the girls laughed and ate. David paid the bill and left. To the streets, to home, alone.

Hypercondriac Anecdotes, For Parties

2004-03-06T21:26:00.002+01:00

1). I saw this TV program about mouth cancer, once. The next day I saw these lumps on my tongue, so I went right to the doctor. I said to the doctor, "Look, I think I have mouth cancer of some kind." The doctor asked me to open my mouth and looked in with his little torch. "You don't have mouth cancer," he said, "those are your taste buds."
2). As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, I went to the same doctor straight after seeing a program about skin cancer. The next day I saw this red black horrible thing on my lower back/upper buttock. I said to the doctor, "Look, I think I have a malignant melanoma of some kind." The doctor asked me to pull down my trousers and underpants to take a look at it. "You dont have skin cancer," he said, "that's an ordinary freckle filled with blood." I asked him, "But how could that happen?" He said, "I think you're underpants are too tight for you. Wear bigger."

Truth IS a Woman

2004-03-06T21:13:00.000+01:00

Friedrich Nietzsche famously pondered "What if truth be a woman" in his book 'Beyond Good and Evil'. Nietzsche was troubled by the idea that his difficulty in understanding and relating to the opposite sex could signify a general inability understand the world around him as it really was. If truth was a woman, his entire world-view would be in need of revision.

Today it was determined that truth actually is a woman. 3,256 readers of Cosmopolitan magazine voted in favour of the proposition with a 3% statistical margin of error. The Editor of Cosmopolitan claims that this is the first scientific proof that truth is a woman, and hopes that philosophers everywhere will revise their ideas accordingly.

Remembrance of Audits Past

2004-03-06T20:59:00.000+01:00

I lie here half awake, drip piercing my arm, keeping me alive. I'm 84. I'm on my deathbed. The sheets are white and the pillow plump. My mind goes back, back and I re-live, re-live my fondest memories.

34 years as an internal auditor marks a man. I probed, investigated, uncovered, petrified and rectified department after department. The audits spiral before me, the times when a supervisor came this close to hoodwinking me, the times my reports caused meaningful changes to procedures or systems.

The audits that combined business processes and systems were always my favourite. Ha! How often I found security weaknesses through misapplied user administration and authorisation schemes! How my spirit roared and blood pounded to witness migration from software stored keys to certificates on hardware security modules.

I'm a man at the end of my life, but I live on through my audit findings. My work on this earth is done, and I am proud as I prepare to step before the eternal auditor in the sky.

Killer Whales Not Funny

2004-03-06T18:34:00.000+01:00

Killer Whales were encouraged to stick to what they know best, yesterday, after a captive Orca was heard to mutter, "I was going to eat a dolphin, but I couldn't see the porpoise." Another was seen with the tatoo, "Preserve the environment: pickle a humpback."

New Studies Damn Senior Managers

2004-03-06T18:21:00.000+01:00

Two separate studies released today have caused questions for the very first time about the acceptability of senior management behaviour.

Harvard University found a correlation between the seniority of staff members and their lateness to meetings. Stanford University sampled 10,000 emails and found a relationship between the terseness of written communications and the position of the writer in the organisational heirarchy.

Commenting on these two studies, Professor Roger Penfold from the University of London said, "These results suggest a strong correlation between seniority, and being an asshole."

Both studies showed an unexpected peak in lateness and rudeness in middle management. Professor Penfold explains this as, "Aspirational Assholism." Middle managers have been known to overcompensate anti-social behaviours in order to appear more senior than they really are.

Longing Looks Given Chance

2004-03-06T18:10:00.000+01:00

Female policy was changed yesterday to consider longing, melancholy looks from men a positive sign. Previous official female policy was to ignore hopeful staring, or treat it as a pathetic subject of scorn or derision.

The new policy, which begins a 1 year trial period today, considers expectant glances, pleading stares and desperate looks as a sign of sweet shyness that belies a warm and sensitive nature, not precluding an abundance of manly qualities.

Inadequate, pathetic, powerless males welcomed the change.

Spanish Word of the Day: Triste

2004-03-06T18:06:00.000+01:00

Adj.
1). Comes before tryst, only alphabetically
2). Regret at living on the first floor when overcome by wish to jump from window

Editorial: Goodbye Commanche

2004-03-03T13:38:00.000+01:00

While this publication deplores neo-conservative American imperialism, unilateralism, pre-emptivism, illegal wars and the suppression of civil liberties, we do find American military hardware extremely cool, and sincerely regret the recently announced cancellation of the Comanche attack helicoper programme.

Military Metaphors Mandatory

2004-03-03T13:14:00.000+01:00

The Department of Homeland Security today issued an official 'patriotic suggestion' to the editors of US publications to employ military metaphors, similies, allusions and analogies in every piece of journalism, "until the war on terror is won."

US journalists have until now operated under a self imposed code of practice to include militaristic references in every story concerning business, sport and politics. The new guidelines call for universal application of the practice.

The Department of Homeland Security issued a press release stating, "Every story with a military allusion is a warning shot across the bows of international terrorism. Our enemies should be reminded of America's martial superiority at every opportunity. It's time for journalists to lock and load."

Artifacts from a Better Future: Travel

2004-03-02T18:27:00.000+01:00

Sedate, Freight and Illuminate Inc. offer low cost transportation on all long distance routes. Travellers are carefullly tranquilised and transported in climate controlled personal pods, 1000 of which fit in a standard 747. On arrival, SFI Inc. arrange hotels in which you dont have to turn on 14 lights before you can read a book.

American Ingenuity

2004-03-02T18:20:00.000+01:00

US construction company Bechtel today presented detailed architectural drawings for major public buildings in Korea, Syria and Iran. Bechtel has drawn up plans for new telephone exchanges, ministries, TV stations and other landmark buildings in Axis of Evil countries.

Bechtel VP in charge of Strategic Foresight, said, "In Iraq, we were caught on the hop and many of the buildings we are putting up are just functional boxes. Next time, we are going to be ready from the get-go. We want to build things which have a flavour of the current structures. Undercover agents have quizzed users of the existing buildings about their likes and dislikes, so we can make sure that survivors can enjoy superior structures in the future."

Canadian Doctors Intervene in Middle East Conflict

2004-03-02T18:16:00.000+01:00

The Canadian Doctors Association (CDA) today issued a statement calling for the Israeli Government and Palestinian Authority to stop acting like a couple of 'Siamese Woodpeckers'.

Donald Bendon, Chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee of the CDA, said, "Both sides are acting completely cuckoo."

First True Love Refuses Closure

2004-03-02T18:11:00.000+01:00

Tim Moore, 36, of Scottsdale, Arizona, bore the seeping wounds today of an unresolved romantic relationship that ended in 1997. Moore's ex-girlfriend, Kirsty Lesser, 31, failed to give any reason for the break-up at the time, and refused to discuss the matter after the event. Yearly Christmas emails from Moore to Lesser elicited no response.

Moore is in a loving relationship with a partner of 2 years, with a child on the way, but he still feels the loss of his first true love every day, and wonders what happened to her.

Ms Lesser, contacted for this story, said, "Yeah, I remember Tim. We went out for a couple of weeks, like 10 years ago or something, but it was no big deal. Like, get over it man!"

What Bob Says to Catherine

2004-03-02T18:06:00.000+01:00

1). "We have to improvise....the final page of the script was 'Rost in Tlansration'."
2). "Dont worry, we get to do it all over again. This is Groundhog Day."

Passing Fancies

2004-02-29T23:15:00.000+01:00

Guide bats for the blind somnambulist.

Spanish Word of the Day: Cojonudo

2004-02-29T18:36:00.000+01:00

Adj.
1). Fantastic, awesome, boring
2). Incredible, stupendous, dull