The Uranium Tipped Pen

It’s finally happened folks.
We’re on the retreat, dragging our strap-on dildos and gimp masks behind us,
applying the lubricant to our feet for a quick get-away,
We never thought it could happen, but we’re finally learning how uncomfortable it is to try and run away from an angry mob wearing a full body leather skin-suit.

The counter-insurgency has driven back the tides of the sexual revolution, and we’re fleeing, fleeing like cowards with our dicks between our legs.

How did it happen?

Well, it died the same way every revolution died, we got complacent folks.
When the prudes started saying “oh well I’m not a prude but…” we remained silent.
When pro-virginity movements (with evengelicals pulling the strings) swept across Europe, and received widespread media coverage… we remained silent.
When people said “I don’t want my children growing up too fast” we submitted quietly and said, “well I suppose… if its the children“.

For all our pretensions towards sexual openness, we remain a nation of uptight repressed sexual lunatics, and I use the word lunatic in full accuracey, because a repressed nation is a factory for sexual deviants.
Not to mention the alarming rise in teenaged pregnancies…

I have news for you folks, it wasn’t the media, or rap music, or the lack of prayer in schools, that made little Daisy go out and get knocked up. It’s the result of trying to hide sex, from people whose bodies have reached sexual maturity.

Oh boo-hoo, you didn’t want them to grow up too fast?
Maybe we should start castrating them and feeding them growth reduction hormones too? Then we can carry on dressing them up in cute little outfits and playing with them like toys.

A Child is a transitory state, it is the process of transforming from a creature with the awareness intelligence and motor skills of a pot-plant into a complete human being, to try and arrest that growth, because we’re squeamish about sex, is no different to not feeding them, or lying to them about the world.

Childhood is the process of becoming an adult. To say that “adult things” are not for children to learn about is a form of abuse. In this case, a form of sexual abuse. And the result is we rear generation after generation of people that hide in the shells of adult-bodies, but are sexual children, with no idea how to carry out safe and healthy sexual relationships, that are a staple of basic human existence.

Everywhere we go, we see that “respectable” outfits, in society will have nothing to do with sex, or else use exhaustive and repressive means to hide and censor any “inappropriate” content from those martyrs to our bizarre neurosis, children.

Take youtube, I mean Jeez! just try finding some decent porn on that website!
or in your local library or bookshop, or on normal tv.

Something needs to be done.
A true sexual revolution would see a reduction in teen pregnancy, sexual offenders, paedophilia and what’s more, might lead to a nation of happy, relaxed people.

Have you seen the soaring sales in anti-depressants lately?
Of course, this might mean people cared more about living happy normal lives, and work less hard in their offices and factories, and this could be a disaster!

So we can never rely on governments and schools (whose job it is to churn out good little cogs for the social machine) to implement these changes.

We need to start the revolution from scratch.

Firstly, things like mainstream media outlets refusing to show “adult” content (Human content, really).
Why do they do it?
Despite the vast bulk of media created probably being porn (we’ve all been on the internet long enough to know this)
Despite the fact that porn is the main thing people seem to be interested in seeing (ask google - cumshots are bigger than Jesus)
Despite the fact that it is a massively lucrative industry.

They won’t touch it with a barge pole. Even though, they surely want to touch it…

They fear the backlash, they fear being associated with “Smut”, they don’t want to risk turning people on.

Well there is a simple way to fight this.
We’ll all just have to start getting aroused by mundane content, so they have no choice.
It won’t be easy. We’ll need to go into bookstores and start jacking off to the harry potter section, we’ll need to post on youtube, saying how hot that water-skiing squirrel got us, we’ll need to fake orgasms every time any “Respectable” corporation does anything.

It’s the only way.
Once they are marred by the association, they’ll be in a position where it is probably more profitable to just open a Smut section.

Next, sex education. It’s no use trying to reform it.
We came up against the stalwarts of the PTA, and they were mighty.
The headteachers and behavioural scientists all know we need decent education, that failing to teach it properly is as bad as not telling kids not to eat.
But the phalanx of moral crusaders blocks the way.

It’s time for guerilla warfare, we need to start cvreating sex-manuals, covering all conceivable topics, and simply putting them places where young-adults etc can easily get hold of them.

No, it doesn’t make kids have sex earlier than they should.
It has the opposite effect. Look at the countries with liberal sex-ed and open sexuality, compare their pregnancy levels.

We need to stop sanctifying marriage.
It isn’t the state’s job to give approval to one kind of relationship at the expense of another. Monogamy is a great thing, it works for me, but it isn’t the bloody Perfect Model of what works.

finally, we need to counter the effect of generations of Lying To Children.
Of telling people sex is bad, that god will punish us.
Because these things transfer into adulthood.

We need a new, better lie.

If you’re sexually repressed, the Great Stunted Human Development Bear will cum in your mouth…

It’s the only way people

We have both the Christians and the Discordian’s (one of whom gave me the link) the thank for this little piece of comedy gold.

It got me thinking about the whole “get out of hell free” card thing, don’t worry, I’m not about to join the choir…

It’s just that this one time I won a “free” holiday to Italy.

Now Italy has the highest quantity of Popes per-capita in the world (christian popes, not Discordian ones. The country with the most Discordian popes is China) which makes it basically second only to Heaven, so they’re fairly similar things.

But when I looked into my “free” holiday, I soon found out that the food, drink, return flight, bedding etc were all charged as extra, and on top of this I would be pestered daily to buy products I didn’t want, with money I really needed for bedding, by the company that had stranded me there…

So in the end I chose not to go.

Now they SAY Jesus will get you into heaven free-of-charge, no matter what your previous credit rating is… sounds too good to be true right?

But try to remember folks, when it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

What I’m trying to say is this: Sure, Jesus might get you a free trip to heaven, but you [i]know[/i], in your heart of hearts, that you’re going to have to sit through a timeshares pitch for the rest of eternity when you get there.

After being rejected by almost every living publisher, and even some of the dead ones, I’ve finally taken the decision to publish my book “Cold Turkey and the Case of the Missing Crime” with Melrose Books, a Commissioned Publisher.

Naturally, I was dubious at first. There is one warning that you receive as a new writer, one warning they repeat, again and again and again.

never go with a publisher who expects you to pay your own printing costs. The reasons they give are many, explaining in great detail how all these people want is your money…

It’s almost convincing, almost makes you think that the big publishers are after something other than a share of the cash from your work, that in fact the nice folks in the big publishing houses (which you soon realise are all owned by the same very few companies) really care nothing but for high quality literature.

almost convincing.

The argument-between-the-lines that they present against the various forms of independent publishing is: You need us to tell you whether your work is good or not. That is our right. We are the institution which gets to decide what is and is not good writing. Those “other” companies will let you publish anything, just because you wrote it and want to publish it!

How dare we even think that we could be allowed to see our work in print, without having a market-driven advertising executive deem that it is “real” writing.

In case you haven’t guessed, I’ve become less convinced of the Big Publishing industry’s position.

They cry that you might lose your money… which is ultimately an indicator of the flaw in their argument. They think writing and publishing is all about money, they are salesmen, not literate.

Don’t believe me?

Then check out:

Exhibit A

and

Exhibit B

If we were going to use financial success as the critical standard we would need to discount a thousand works of art and literature as “worthless”.

But that isn’t why we write.

Sure, no one is going to top the bible on the best-seller lists with an independently published book, but that was never the point. Only publishers see books as a “get rich quick scheme”.

I think it’s time more writers took the first bold steps into this area, and put down the prohibitive warnings, laid out by those who wish to hold an artistic industry in the iron grasp of crass consumerism.

The writing industry doesn’t belong to them, it belongs to us. We are the labourers.

It is us that reaps the field of words, and sifts the verbiage to produce the crop of pages.

They are the greasy salesmen and the spotty check-out clerks, who scan and package our material.

We need to remember that, I think

A Penny For Their Thoughts

‘Tis a heavy burden,
A working human brain,
For when the world’s an idiot,
The clever man’s insane,

It weighs in at three pounds,
If you have the full amount,
Though it seems most folks I know,
Got theirs at a discount,

If you dare to stand aloft,
And say the ship is sinking,
They will throw you overboard,
For the crime of of thinking,

The world it is an idiot,
Its thoughts come off the shelf,
And Wise Man is a lunatic,
For talking to himself

For your amusement and pleasure…

Some verse I scribbled to amuse the good folks at StagePlays.com forum.

——

There are two types of folk
Out here in the world

And thus we must admit

That while half sit and write this crap
the others sit and read it

Whilst some bloggers have been claiming the demise of Albert Hofmann, discoverer of LSD.

We know much better.

In fact, the real Albert Hofmann, is 36 feet tall, and invulnerable to all forms of weapon and illness.

He still patrols the oceans, protecting the seas from Dolphin Unfriendly tuna trawlers.

The claims of his death are doubtlessly a Discordian ruse, implemented by the insidious Cain and his followers

After my usual weekly swim through the London Underground, I surfaced for air in Sloan Square, as I am wont to do.

My neurosis about being on time ensuring that I was a fair 20 minutes early for the Young Writer’s Program as usual.

So I decided to indulge in a hobby I have developed since enrolling at the Royal Court, namely walking up the street and trying to find a single shop that doesn’t sell expensive labelled clothing.

One day I walked for 40 minutes in a straight line without finding anything. They even have a designer underwear shop for men. Wonders never cease.

All of this goes (I think) a long way towards explaining Shaun. 

Shaun is the homeless guy on Sloan Square, homeless and starving I suspect, not out of choice, but because there is nothing but clothing shops in all directions. Sloan Square is a desert of clothing shops. Look closer, and you’ll see that all of the inhabitants have a starved look in their eyes, like they haven’t seen civilisation, food or water, for months.

I think perhaps Shaun is like me, he just started walking one day, only he wandered too far and now he can’t get back. He is forced to crawl through the barren and inhospitable wasteland, sometimes running, gibbering towards what looks like a cafe, only to realise that it is a cruel mirage, created by the sun burning on the nylon of CK boxer shorts.

I like Shaun, because like me, he cuts an odd figure out here in the fashionable Chelsea district. And like me he receives the same frosty glares from well-dressed passer-bys. The one which says: “You don’t belong here”.

It all goes to reinforce my theory that Londoners actually have more in common with camels, than human beings.

They stock up on normal human contact, compassion, quirkiness, probably in some hidden Oasis, and then out they go into the Sloan Desert, storing it all away in a hidden hump somewhere while they trudge the faceless crowds.

But I digress,

It turns out that Shaun is not starving, in fact his situation is quite the opposite. Shaun cannot possibly eat another sandwich.

He explains that it has become the “in-thing” amoung a certain kind of people, to give homeless folk sandwiches instead of money, the theory being that you can’t easily exchange a cheese ploughmans for class A illicit substances.

Of course, as he explains, there are only so many sandwiches you can actually eat in a day. But this doesn’t stop people, so determined are they to give him sarnies, that one bunch of Christians refused to leave till he had eaten one, causing him to later be sick.

He was literally sandwich-raped.

He didn’t specify what the filling was

He had asked me to stop and talk so that he could present his case, and so that I could confirm to him, that he was neither insane nor ungrateful.

So for the sake of Shaun, I have written this post.

Asking you to please not feed the homeless in Sloan Square, just give them some frigging change.

Yes, they might spend it badly, it might not help them become pope or Prime Minister, or whatever career it was you had in mind for them.

But that isn’t the point. Everyone makes bad choices, I don’t actively try to improve the way you make yours, by refusing to lend you a bus fare, because you won’t spend it “going anywhere useful”.

That’s not what compassion or empathy are. It’s about human-contact, about acknowledging another human, their plight, alongside yours. Not stumbling blindly through the dust bowl of empty labels and shiny accessories.

You can’t fix these people, or anyone else. So instead, just shrug, drop some change, and share a moment with them.

Or don’t.

But for Christ’s sake. No more sandwiches.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword… but is the pen mightier than the atomic bomb?

It has to be said that even the most stalwart intellectual would probably balk at the concept of going up against a five-hundred megaton radioactive incendiary device.

Of course, in times gone past this same question was asked of pens and guns, and the literary establishment responded by inventing the paintball gun, the ultimate combination of gas-propelled projectiles and writing implements. Which begs the question: is it time to start creating more powerful, mightier perhaps even, dare I say it, atomic writing implements? Capable of delivering a single paragraph over a two hundred kilometer radius; A pen that would write words that could not be washed off a surface for the next fifty years, and would cause children conceived in the target area to be born with those words already tatood on their foreheads?

In an age where government power over the populace grows ever mightier, this writer thinks that yes, that time has come. But what form will this writing implement take? Sadly, I have been prohibited from irradiating biros so I have chosen another, more devious method of spreading letters over huge geographic areas…

The blog.

Yes… it’s back. And now it is even MORE hairy.