2017: Drugs, death, science.

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FOR A MAN WITH NO FINGERS, TIME IS IMMEASURABLE. Time with a capital T. Time in italics. Time, whispers the dealer to the school-child.

It’s the eighth of January, the Christmas tree has gone, it’s raining and foggy outside, I’m stood waiting for the bus and I wonder if anyone else has ever waited for the bus and looked at the sky, the exact dark patch that I’m looking at, and wondered if anyone else has stood there, wondering the same thing.

2017 has begun. So far it’s like everything else.

Some people have died at the hands of other people. Some of these deaths were racially motivated, some were politically motivated, some were motivated by the crushing flaws of the system, some were motivated by the harsh success of the system, all were necessary, unnecessary, they happened, it happened.

Violent deaths, unlike the babies in London who should be wearing gas masks. It’s the blitz, there’s mustard gas in the air and it’s not dropped in bombs, falling from some chute, the arse of a masked airman, anonymous, invisible.

Not an airman, but the suited councilor. A new kind of guiltless obscurity, not fifteen thousand feet: behind the desk.

It took five days for the legal annual limit on air pollution to be broken in London, on Lambeth Rd in Brixton. Five days.

“We broke the limit.”

“What limit?”

Who’s speaking? We’ve no idea. Who’s in charge of this limit? The law? Which law? I don’t see any law around here.

Putin’s law. Oh. Got you. Let’s do whatever we want. Like “help” Trump win the White House. I wonder why. What possible reason could the despotic leader of a country that lost out to it’s fat American cousin time and time again, have in assisting the election of a bumbling Tweeter?

MEXICO. THEY’LL PAY. They’ll pay at some point. They’ll reimburse us. Until then, well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it from you.

Me? Que?

Other walls are built around areas that people like to gather in. Trucks are the new tool. In a decade we’ll have automated trucks, and automated jobs, an automated workforce, automated roads, automated rules, automated lives. Maybe we’ll stop killing each other.

Que? Que? Que?

FTSE 100 BOSSES EARN MORE THAN SUSAN AND DICK WILL EARN IN THEIR WHOLE LIFE OVER THE COURSE OF A WEDNESDAY. BY THE TIME RUPERT AND RONDOLINA FROM INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING CO. LTD. HAVE FINISHED THEIR JELLIED CHAMPAGNE SHOTS AND PANCAKES FOR BREAKFAST, WHILST A YOUNG GIRL MOISTENS THEIR TOES, THEY HAVE OUT-EARNED THE ENTIRE BRITISH ISLES.

Que?

POLICE IN GERMANY SELECTIVELY MONITOR MEN OF NORTH AFRICAN DESCENT ON NEW YEARS EVE. IT FUCKING WORKS. EVERYONE HATES THE CHIEF FOR PROVIDING STATISTICAL EVIDENCE TO PROVE THAT IT WORKED. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO SAY OR DO. PANIC.

Que?

THE ARCTIC IS MELTING, THE ARCTIC IS CRACKING, THE ARCTIC IS ENDING.

Que?

FOR JUST UNDER AN HOUR A MENTALLY DISABLED YOUNG MAN WAS TORTURED, LIVE, ON FACEBOOK. THOUSANDS WATCHED.

What?

This last one got me.

I watched fifteen seconds.

Couldn’t do it.

Knew I had to.

To understand it.

It’s sick place in history.

But I couldn’t.

Nah.

 

It’s okay though because there’s been some nice stuff to do with the climate in places like Costa Rica and India where they’re really actually doing some great old stuff to save the planet like you know renewable energy and lots of good things to do with trees and you know stuff like that.

 

 

 

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