Love Minus Zero/No Limit - Bob Dylan (With On-Screen Lyrics)

Turkish Teeth

 

Apologies for the total dearth of posts at the moment.  I had a complete blank writing-wise for a few weeks - experience tells me not to force it, it only comes out even worse than the usual un-forced stuff - and then a nasty bout of covid.   If only Dave Nark had been around with his covid marshal cattle prod, hazmat suit and hi viz jacket.   

But he wasn't.  He was elsewhere.  And by elsewhere,  I mean he was testing out one of Val's new-fangled 'death pods'.  Yes, she finally cracked it.  Guests can now say their final goodbyes to the Earthly plane in an eco-friendly green energy-style camping-cum-death pod,  comforted by a hand-made nettle fibre welcome basket filled with last minute artisan-style comestibles and self care items like deadly nightshade tea and gravel flapjax, hemlock toothpaste, arsenic body butter and strychnine shampoo.

'I really can't go these gravel flapjax,' Dave muttered.  'Not even if I dunk them in the deadly nightshade tea.  Val knows full well that I killed the nerves in my teeth playing the jawharp when I was busking my way across Europe back in the day and they all turned black.  I can manage a digestive if I have to but that's it. Oh well.  Someone else will have to test the death pod and its comestibles.  I'm off for a walk.'

NEXT TIME Dave reads a news article about 'Turkish teeth' and thinks he might busk his way across Europe again to get some.

Death Pods

'Death pods' churned out on a 3D printer.   What could possibly go wrong...

 https://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/world/tesla-of-euthanasia-death-capsule-that-kills-occupant-in-seconds-to-be-used-for-first-time/ar-BB1ptFCA?ocid=socialshare&pc=DCTS&cvid=bfbae116b85d4ff29b48208b9791e7f6&ei=27

 

Dave's Third Eye Pops Out

 Turns out that Dave's third eye couldn't handle the thorny moral dilemma of whether or not Dave should murder his insane wife, and simply popped out.  It fell on to the floor with a plopping sound and rolled into a gap in the skirting, where it shrivelled up and turned into a walnut-soaked-in-vinegar-like thing.  One day in the future a child will find it, and that child will probably grow up wondering why it has an adam's apple-style lump in its forehead which can read everybody's minds.

'Have you tried offering her a nice cup of tea Dave?' Geoffrey suggested.  'With a white chocolate digestive or two maybe.'

'What a good idea.  I'll do that right now.  Val!  Nice cup of tea and a digestive for you! ' Dave rolled his eyes.

'A well-meaning but, dare I say it, a stupid suggestion Geoffrey,' I said.  'Especially when we have heavy duty drugs in our medical chest.  Laudanum,  opium tabloids, curare.  Paraldehyde.   Fetch the glass syringe and the blow-pipe Geoffrey.  Let's get to work.'

The Smiths - How Soon Is Now? (Official Music Video)

 Safe to say the world has pretty much lost its shit at the moment.   

Everything feels out of control.  Bonkers people in charge everywhere.  Bonkers people protesting about stuff that makes me wonder if we're inhabiting the same universe. 

Is it time to find a suitable cave in which to sit the whole thing out?   Do I dig a bunker in the garden - or under the house - fill it with books and tins of this and that, tap into a water main and turn survivalist? 

 

Dave's Third Eye has a serious word with Dave

*Dave's third eye is speaking*   Dave - you must face reality.  Val has clearly gone completely insane.  Not only that - she's homicidal.  To use a possibly off-putting but descriptive technical term, Dave, your wife is a homicidal maniac.   This is a highly dangerous situation. You must deal with it.   I'm sorry to have to say this but this whole thing is so stressful I'll be throbbing painfully until you do, I might even get to the glowing, spontaneous combustion stage and that won't be pleasant for either of us.  

*Dave is speaking*   I wonder if I should contact Dr Wilson to get her a psychiatric referral and/or some kind of psychotropic industrial strength tranks.  Val's more of a St John's Wort type of person but I think we're probably past that stage.  Even if I added in some Evening Primrose...I mean I'm raving myself now.  Let's be honest she needs either high grade meds or locking up in a secure facility.  Probably both.  I wonder if it's menopause-related.  Goes without saying that I daren't mention that in front of Val.  

*Dave's third eye is speaking*  yes that's women's talk Dave and we never go there.  No, you have to think of the public safety aspects now.  She's concocting lethal potions in order to bump people off, and telling everyone it's a good thing.  She's saying it's over 55s only, and that it's voluntary, but she isn't going to stop there is she.  She's a seasoned killer now Dave, she's got a taste for it and she's asked you to join in.  Two words Dave.  Premeditated murder. Another two -  Saughton prison.   Need I say more?

*Dave is speaking* no, you needn't.   However,  you might give me some pointers as to what to actually do about it.   Do I call the police, psychiatric services or what?

*Dave's third eye is speaking* I'm afraid it's 'or what' Dave. 

*Dave is speaking* what do you mean?

*Dave's third eye is speaking* well, how did Val put it. Let me think...wield the cushion over the vital area, or something...

Next time- Dave fetches a cushion to wield over Val's vital area...then realises that he's about to do the very thing to Val that she asked him to do to the victims sorry guests, and which he refused to do through an excess (some might say) of principle or squeamishness...his third eye starts to throb violently and threatens to spontaneously combust due to the stress of it all...

Blog we Daily, On we Go

 Checking the old link in my bio that supposedly clicks through to Northwords Now and find it no longer takes you to the relevant page as they have updated their system.  I'm not surprised given it's 13 years old. They now save back issues as PDFs so here is a link to that.  17.pdf (northwordsnow.co.uk)  I've been living off that review/mention by Tony Ross for 13 years, you might think it's time to move on but some of us haven't got much else to move on to, frankly.

I've a story I've been working on for ten years.  I have bursts of activity on it when I think I've got a clue how it should end - or how it should be - and then I get scared and run away from it.  

Val's Lethal Income Generation Scheme becomes compulsory

 'Dave and Val have got a new income generation scheme.   I'm telling you two because you're in the zone age-wise and you might be interested.'  Tuppence emptied the last crumbs of a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch into his mouth and belched loudly. 'Meaning that you're both old.'

'That's not funny Tuppence.  As if we hadn't already heard about the holistic wellness self euthanasia care yurt.  We won't be getting involved with that, thank you.'

'I'm not surprised.  As well as being old you're fat unhealthy and selfish into the bargain.  You're breathing air and taking up space a young person could be using.  You're eating food of a very unhealthy stripe and not taking any responsibility for yourselves.  Your social attitudes are prehistoric and your time on the planet is up. You need to acknowledge that before she comes and gets you.'

'Comes and gets us?  I thought it was voluntary?'

'It WAS.... but now Val's got a pair of running shoes, a crossbow, tranquilliser darts and a van with blacked out windows.  Government issue. She doesn't need victims sorry guests to pay her because she's getting commission for each over 55 she manages to euthanase, with or without their permission.'

'How absolutely ghastly.  Geoffrey, fetch the shotgun.  We may need to defend ourselves.'

Next time....Dave's third eye starts to throb and he has a crisis of conscience....

The Killing Yurt

 'Dave we've got our first guest in the holistic voluntary self euthanasia care space and I've just realised we've got two big problems.  Man up please.'

'You mean the killing yurt.'  murmured Dave, who had his back to Val as he replaced the battery in his trail cam.

'Number one - they've got a needle phobia and they don't like tea, you're going to have to inject them Dave because I won't have time,  I'm all booked up with hot stoning clients this morning.'

'WHAT?  No I'm sorry Val.  There's another word for euthanasia, and it's murder.  I'm not doing it and neither should you.'

'But they've signed the disclaimer Dave.  It's totally fine.'

'What does the disclaimer actually say Val?'

'It says they're over 55, they want to end their earthly journey now, and if anything should go wrong, e.g. coma, paralysis and/or mental incapacity or whatever, they're sane at the point of signing therefore they accept that they're 100% responsible for anything that happens and they won't sue.  Plus, I've extended my professional liability insurance that I use for my hot stoning to cover wellness self-euthanasing.  We're totally covered Dave.  Now get on with it, we don't want a negative review on Trip Advisor.  Not that they'll be around to write one but...'

'What's the second problem?'

'Well, you know how I said they paid half up front half on completion?'

'Yes...'

'I just realised that if there is a 'completion', then they'll have ended their earthly journey and won't be able to pay the remainder.'

'How terrible.  Well, maybe you should just scrap the whole thing Val and stick to the hot stoning and the ear candling.'

'Perhaps Dave but what do we do with the guest that's already here?  They're ready to depart this world and eager for us to assist.'

'Just give them their deposit back Val, and offer them one of my wildlife safaris.  I've repaired the holes in the kayak and I can take them round the loch, there's a pair of grebes nesting in the reed beds.  We might even see an otter. That's sure to bring back the will to live. OW!

Dave winced as Val smacked him in the third eye with a hot stone.

The Holistic Voluntary Wellness Self Euthanasia Care Space

 'I wonder if I can somehow remove my third eye', thought Dave.  'I don't think I can cope with being in a permanent state of enlightenment.  I feel I need some Valium or something.  Something to bring me down...'

'Dave!  What are you doing out there!  Get those logs chopped right now,  the mobile sauna needs topping up, my hot stones are going cold and I've run out of kindling.   And haven't you dug out the composting toilet yet, it smells disgusting.  Guests are complaining.'  

'OK Val.'  Forget about the Valium, thought Dave, pulling on his Wellingtons.  And as for the composting toilet - the clue is in the name.  It's a composting toilet, therefore, it smells disgusting.  You wanted the bloody thing.  I tried to warn you but would you listen?  No.  Because you never listen. There was no point in trying to explain this to Val.  There was no point in trying to explain anything to Val.  

Later...in Dave and Val's cottage, over some goji berry tea...

'Dave I've got an idea I need to discuss with you.  Nettle flapjack?'  Val proffered a handwoven willow basket filled with lumpy brown-ish rectangles. 'They're three months old but they're totally fine if you dunk them.'

'No thanks Val.  I'm still full after the roadkill soup you made for lunch,'  said Dave warily.  He only got offered flapjacks if Val wanted him to do something.  And it was always something bad.

'That's OK, they were left over from a guest's welcome pack. Why do people never eat them? So ungrateful.  They probably expect Twixes or something.  Anyway,  what I wanted to tell you, I mean ask you...I mean tell you....or discuss or whatever...I'm converting one of the yurts into our own mini Switzerland Dave!  I'm getting a grant from the Scottish government, as long as I rewild the back field, fit solar panels and an air-sourced heat pump and ante up three grand.   It's going to be a holistic voluntary wellness self euthanasia care space.  Where people who fulfil certain important criteria can either indulge themselves by self-euthanasing via an injection of a holistic cocktail of lethal wellness drugs I carefully distill from locally eco-foraged fungi and toxic plants, or ingest it in the form of a pleasant herbal-style tea.  Which obviously would take longer to take effect but would be ideal for anyone with a needle phobia.  I might even throw in a Toblerone.'   

'What are the criteria?'

'Oh, they'd have to be over a certain age.  Let's say, 55?  Just plucking that out of the air but it sounds about right.  And, they'd have to pay a fee, obviously.  Half up front,  half on completion.  I'd take Paypal, cash, debit and credit cards but not Klarna.'

'You've clearly thought this through Val.  Leaving the legality of it aside for a minute - how would you - or we - dispose of the - how shall I put it - remains?'

'Bury them in the back field, Dave.  The one that I'm rewilding and planting up with yellow rattle and stuff.  Where they would compost down into the soil and become a useful part of the ecosystem instead of taking up space on an already overcrowded planet.  That's where you come in.  You've got a pick and a couple of decent shovels, haven't you?'

'And what if - heaven forbid - someone attempts but fails to 'complete'?'

'No worries at all, they have two options which they pre-select on the disclaimer form prior to arrival.  They're either left in a permanent coma-style vegetative state - mentally alert, yet physically completely paralysed, or vice versa, depending on the proportion of specially foraged herbs to fungi used in the solution - or, for an additional fee, finished off, let me put it that way.'

'Finished off?  How?'

'Dave you're fully capable of wielding one of my home made crocheted nettle fibre cushions over the vital area.'

'The vital area.  You mean the face don't you.  Good grief Val.  When we got married I knew you were a strong-minded woman but I didn't expect this.'

Next time - Val discloses that her mother is coming to stay for an indefinite period.  Dave perks up as he wonders if she might be the first candidate for the holistic voluntary wellness self euthanasia care space...

Bob Dylan - Like a Rolling Stone (Official Audio)

Happy 83rd birthday to a genius whose wonderful songs have been friends to me for as long as I can remember.  

Geriatric Refuseniks

'How are we going to find the treasure if we can't get Dave to lend us his third eye?'

'Oh who knows.  Can we be bothered even looking - even if he does lend us it?  Frankly,  I'm not sure. We've got through life this far without having treasure and we're doing OK.  Bit of victimless thievery, bit of starvation now and then, threadbare clothes, no holidays and no fancy cars but hey.  We get by. The simple life is grand.  Let's say that if we haven't found it by the time winter comes - say,  mid-November, depending on weather - we should call it a day and just accept we had our chance and we blew it, we're old and we should stay home with our pipes and our slippers and just accept we did our bests in our lives and that's the fun part over, we've had a fair kick of the ball, no treasure for us and maybe we should book a trip to Switzerland and be done with it.'

'Bit negative Tuppy.'

'Mark my words.  Pretty soon once we reach a certain age - say, 60, perhaps 70 if we're very lucky - we're going to be offered an injection, which won't be compulsory, but, if we don't take it we won't be allowed nice things.  We'll probably have to live in an old person's compound, with all the other geriatric refuseniks, soiling ourselves and being given porridge and soup.'

'Let's just hope that Dave does lend us the eye then and that we do find the treasure by November...and if you can't be arsed, then I'll find it myself.' 

Dave considers monetising his third eye

 'I'm not deploying my third eye for shit!' snapped Dave. 'How dare you even ask me that.  It's for metaphysical purposes ONLY, plus seeing in the dark.  Which is great because I'll never need to use night vision goggles again.  It'll be much easier when I'm out setting the wildlife cam looking for pine martens and owls and stuff.'

'Burglars.  Rats.  Cockroaches.  You could start renting it out to paranoid property owners Dave.  It could be a side hustle,'  sniggered Geoffrey.

'Pervs,' suggested Tuppence.  'Doggers.  Not that I'd know anything about it but a third eye that can see in the dark would be fairly handy in those circumstances.  You could rent it out by the hour. Heh heh.'

Dave shook his head and strode off.  I'm not even going to bother explaining to these moronic twits that my third eye cannot be removed, therefore it cannot be rented out, he thought.  My services as the possessor of a third eye however are a different matter, and I suppose I could put an ad on Gumtree regarding charging a small fee for doing night security patrols round people's property.  Mind you, that would be pretty boring, and a bit of a waste of the eye, and besides don't paranoid property owners have dogs already?  A crazed XL bully would surely be a better bet.  And in any case, money's not everything and I'd far rather be by the river scouting for otters than giving people who don't appreciate the profundity of it, the benefit of my third eye in exchange for a few quid.  I'll think it over.  Oh and I definitely won't mention it to Val, because she'll one hundred per cent want me to do it.  Her nettle jams aren't selling well, what a surprise, and she's had some bad reviews on Tripadvisor about the cleanliness of the yurts so she's freaking out about losing business and maintaining income generation.  By which she means me getting a regular job, instead of just punting my otter vids on Youtube.  Luckily she doesn't even know about the eye yet.  Hopefully it'll stay that way.

No,  I think I already know, within myself, that commercialising the eye would be wrong.  I received it as a gift from the glittering eye in the sweat cottage, as a means of, or tool for, elevating my psyche if you like and developing my relationship with my higher, better, self.  I can't just rent it out for cash.  I feel that something bad would definitely happen if I did that.

Next time - Dave uses his third eye to try to resolve some stuff that's been buzzing around his brain...

Why are human beings so far apart, even if they're in the same room?  Can't we all get along?  Why does my heart hurt, and will it always be that way?  Why do I have to earn munny in order to live - why isn't everything free?  Why did humans invent munny anyway? Are globalists going to abolish it and make us all slaves?  Why on earth did I marry Val, and am I stuck with her forever...I'm hungry, I wish I had some sausages...even a Twix...