Each To Their Own
30 August 2001
In 1974, she made her first million. By then, however, the Cycle had reached a downsome phase, and there was nothing but gravity between her and that hard cold concrete slab. They say she died happily.
"Fucking hell get out of the bloody way. Can't you people get a brain and lead a fucking normal life for once without causing obstructions to all us normal people trying to get back home from a frankly fucking hard day's work? Jesus Christ you weirdo fanatics with your horrible funny clothes and greasy hair and constantly groaning and moaning like you're constipated. I mean I'm all for doing your own thing, but couldn't you do it indoors and far away from major traffic arteries like this one. I've been crawling along here for forty fucking minutes on account of all you heretics. That's it. That's fucking it."
They became a fad among the occasional occupant's of London's glitz-glossy gossip pages. And with a successful not to say powerful spokesperson and backer, the movement was able to push constantly outwards while retaining the image of 'cool' and 'hip' for the infinite flow of young converts. Reports started coming in from state schools that there had almost been a reversion to uniform in the higher classes, the Potentates had become so numerous. That was before the First Rout of '84.
"Women and Children First, please. Don't Push, thank you. There will be room for everyone, but please take a number so that we can trace each of you. Don't forget the numbers, people, we all know how important that is. Please, don't push."
"Thank you for coming, and first I'd like to thank the good people of Loftus Road plc for allowing to use their wonderful facility for free. All please, meditate and pray that QPR do well this season, and begin their long-awaited sky-rocket back to the Premiership and hopefully one day European glory. I have given Ian Holloway our good book, now only our prayers remain."
"That done, please allow me to welcome to the main stage, the head Potentate of our West London quarter. You as well as I know her and love her. Please rise..."
"Target Acquired, sir. Clean shot available. Awaiting command."
"Hold steady. Repeat, hold steady. I want to hear her sing for a bit."
Since the beginning the cycle has been. We have all been. There is no end. While dirt-science and the mean-gods claim we have only one life on this earth, you know otherwise. We recognise natural beauty because we have seen it before - the familiar is beauty. The individual never dies, and so society is an illusion.
A recent joint study between statistical geographers and bio-diversity ecologists has given surprising credence to one of the central claims of the New Religion. While two simple truths have often been accepted, they have never been examined in conjunction. It is true that the human population has grown at an ever expanding rate, although that rate is now showing signs of slowing. It is also true that fish stocks, coral reefs, rainforests and wildlife in general has suffered a general trend of decline since the early industrial revolution. Using a complex and detailed economic theorem, coupled with a study of all available historic data and projections, this report shows that there is a statistically significant chance that the total number of living macro-organisms living on the planet has been constant throughout history as long as records began. Is this simply a Mammoth Coincidence, or is this actual solid evidence towards the reincarnation theories?
"Hello madam, I'm glad I found you in. It is a rather miserable day, isn't it, it being August. Hoping for an Indian Summer, me too. Yes. Speaking of the weather, we were just wondering if you had ever given any thought to your spiritual direction, and how an organisation such as ours could help it? Studies do show that those with faith do live an average of 2.5 years longer."
"No. Please sod off. As for spirit, I was the Ebola virus in a past life. And I have proof."
18 December 2003. George writes: This List
Most recent ten:
15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
Also by this clown:
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
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