I worked on a car today that costs £74000. When you open the door, the steering wheel moves upwards eight inches to accomodate your hefty diabetes inducing gut, then when you put the key in, it moves down to stop you straining your weak and useless excuses for arms. I tried to move the 4.5 litre waste of finite resources forwards later, and couldn't find the gearstick, before realising it had paddles behind that oh so accomodating wheel, because changing gear traditionally takes time and effort that our busy days just don't have any room for nowdays. Then I had to reverse it back to where I started, and was surprised when the behemoth spoke to me, and blared through the workshop too. It told me to watch out for obstacles, because the manufacturers probably didn't want to get sued for not warning me things could be behind me, or warning the hypothetical pedestrians that walking into a moving car could hurt.

Being fit and healthy, using old technology that works, and using the neck and eyes that we used to use to look where we were going, not to mention the brain held up there, is so 20th century. We can buy our way out of our stagnant pit. Can't we?

While I was working on this car (if you are interested, a new rear bumper at a cost of £687 (part only) and a rear left hand light cluster at a cost of £224 part only) I was listening to the radio. Japanese Ragweed was the hot topic, which was described as 'terrifying,' 'your worst nightmare,' and 'something that should never happen to anyone.' I daydreamed happily about sending these useless mouths to Afghan to teach them the meaning of terror. The news was describing a bunch of overpaid and over important stuffed suits with nice houses as 'rebels,' for mildly dissenting over irrelevant financial matters. 'Fluff you Che, get out of here Von Stauffenberg, up yours Lenin, the tory conference is here and they are rebelling while they eat their cakes and drink their tea.' I turned to a commercial station, and was told that my 'Shopping Soulmate' is coming soon in town. It's a new shopping centre, like the old one, but bigger, and sells more stuff so we can work harder, for less money, for longer, to buy more stuff we don't need. I hope if I have a soulmate out there, she's not such a b**ch.


It sickens me that £74000 of intrinscially worthless paper give the owner of this car respect in our society. We seem to be progressing with no regard for where we are going, or slowing down to ask 'why?'

I'm a little bit sick of a society that is of no more innate worth than the corrupt and childish fuel that runs and motivates it. I've barely set foot back here and I want to leave again.

Oh, but I can't yet, as the bits of paper have taken a mind of their own, and the men in control of them have lost that control. While somehow they still get richer....? real life; stranger than science fiction.

I think that was my way of saying, 'yes, I fully agree with you Mr Estebangc!'

I'm off traveling for a long period, then returning to Spain to live on my mountain, herd goats and sit at my typewriter until the planet chokes on our filth and sends us the way of the dinosaurs.

Birdy

(Btw, it's good to be back people!)