GOD AND THE NATIONAL SOCIALISTS

Hitler was a Christian of the Roman Catholic persuasion*. He believed that he was doing Biblegod’s work in destroying the power of the not Aryan races. He openly talked of Jesus being his saviour and him carrying on the work of clearing out the money-changers from the temple. His dark-red vision was of the end of any Semite condemned for being the murderers of the pure blooded Christ.
Tell this to any Christian and he will say something like (after you’ve convinced him it isn’t one of your atheist games);
“Yes, but Hitler wasn’t a true Christian. He used god’s name as an excuse to kill. He took the lord’s name in vain.”
All right, yes, fair enough. Hitler committed bloody mass murder and springing from this the most cruel, brutal war in the history of ever, and said he was doing it in the name of god. He took Jesus’ name and labelled the Shoah with it.
So, if god’s name was being impugned, the loving god of the bible who died for us, why in the name of reason didn’t he do something about it? Strike the Fuhrer down at one of his early rallies? Hit him with a stroke or heart attack when he was talking about doing Jesus’ work? Before he could put his words into actions? Why did he stand back and allow Hitler free reign to make speeches that would lead to the gas chambers? I know that the Roman Catholic church still counts Hitler as one of it’s own, having never got round to excommunicating him, but we’re talking about Biblegod here, who doesn’t listen to man, and is impartial and punishes the guilty etc.
Here’s a thought. Biblegod doesn’t exist. He didn’t pull Hitler up because he couldn’t because he wasn’t there. He is a made-up god like all the other gods of history, from Isis to Thor to Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu. He isn’t real. If you use your reasoning powers, it makes a lot more sense than imagining the all powerful almighty creator of the universe standing back and watching all the suffering and killing and cruelty and not getting involved for some theological reason that the greatest apologist in the world would be stuck to explain.

*Yes, all right, how about Stalin? And Mao? And Pol Pot? All Communists and atheists? Together their murder count made Hitler’s look like a baby slap compared to a dismembering of a human being. But none of them used their atheism as an excuse to kill. None of them referred to atheist philosophy as reason for wiping out well over half of the combined populations of the Soviet Union, Red China and Cambodia.

LESSONS FROM ANOTHER SPECIES

I saw a hawk today.
On the bus, looking out of the window. He was flying and hovering in an unmistakable hawk-y way over the grassy part of a roundabout, over a bunch of specially ornamentally planted bushes, with cars whizzing around him. I don’t know if he was after a mouse or a pigeon, cause I saw one a bit before, but he was definitely on the hunt.
And that got me thinking; a display of true nature in a place over-packed with human interference. Doing his hawk-y thing without a concern. It reminds me of when you see weeds growing on kerbs or in corners of a flat tarmac urban landscape, or sprouting out of the roofs of buildings. Everywhere it gets ahold it grows. My Dad used to say that human beings had to keep up the fight against nature taking over and he’s right. Human beings have to constantly cut and shave and kill to keep nature in it’s place. Give it an inch and it won’t be long before it takes over. It’s forever encroaching on human land. Like rats and foxes at night. Raccoons and bears in some parts of the globe. Feeding on the detritus of human society. Keeping a toe hold and lifting itself up and coming closer and taking more and more of the space, so human beings are constantly battling with it.
Us human beings thing we’re winning, but we’re not. We’re barely holding nature to a draw. Every crevice, every hole, every bit of food left. It’s coming on, and on in all it’s forms. Human beings can’t keep it up. We will lose. They’re laughing at us, other species, in their own way, because we have to keep fighting and all they have to do is survive, which they will.
And one day, win.

SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : ‘THE LOCO-MOTION’

This weekend’s song to end the weekend on is an absolute corker. ‘The Loco-Motion’ as sung by Little Eva, who was Carole King’s babysitter, and it was Carole who wrote this song for Eva.
So, sing along, and dance a little if you’re so inclined. If it floats your boat, even watch the accompanying YouTube video, which is just pictures of traisn pulling into stations and puffing steam et al.
And, as always,
A good week, whether you find something that makes you happy when you’re feeling blue, or not.

EDMUND EMILE KEMPER III

I know I should be doing better things with my time, but sod it.
Here’s an interview with Edmund Kemper, everyone’s favourite genius giant serial killer, Mother killer and necrophiliac. It’s from YouTube from ‘The Killing of America’ video, which by the way is unavailable over here, I know because I’ve tried to get it.
His question, when wearing his killing glasses, ‘Would you get into a car with this man?’ When this massive waste of space was active in the early seventies when the wash over of love and peace and trust from the loving hippie sixties still dictated that you should not suspects others, which meant young women hitch-hiking alone, getting into men’s cars without anticipation of anything going terribly wrong. So yes, getting into a car with a man did happen, and in six cases it just happened to be ‘this man’.
The most shocking thing about it is how reasonable he sounds. The idea is that true psychopaths are not raving slavering knife wielding killers a la Jason or Freddie or even Norman Bates as Mother, but likeable, charming trustworthy types. Of course, it’s all superficial, all front, but by the time the intended victim realises this, it’s too late. But how Mr Kemper discusses taking to severed heads and blowing people’s brains out and murdering his Mother like talking about going for a walk or eating his dinner, mixed in with his experiences on dating women, all with a sort of awkward open friendliness, makes you do a double-take and you have to recall that this man murdered ten human beings in his attempt to make sense of a world that was alien to him.

TIME FOR A QUOTE

One of my favourite feminists quotes goes;
“Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels.”

THE AMAZING TRUTH OF POTENTIAL LIFE

There is ice on Mars.
Ice, which is solidified H2O, or water.
And where there is water. . .there is life.
I have been having daytime fantasies about the mechanical Phoenix Mars explorer clicking photographs of tiny big eyed fish with shiny, reflective bodies.
I doubt it. But it this discovery leads to a finding of even the tiniest, living bacteria, well there we have it, life on other planets.
But to be serious, I don’t believe that this planet is the only one that contains even the most basic forms of life. There has to be some, and the way science is going, it won’t be long before we uncover or discover some tiny dark being wriggling away in a rock pool or a blue whale sized creature with rounded opaque flanks gently browsing on some rock mineral or a pointed-tailed fixed-winged form of life skimming through the skies, perhaps on one of the moons of Jupiter.
Leading to another well-timed metaphorical kick in the skull for ‘god created life on this planet (and nowhere else) in six days 6,000 years ago’.

SLEEPLESSNESS ALERT

I am out of bed late (or very early) several times a week, for two reasons. One is the deep down ache in my bones and muscles that drives me out of a horizontal and into a semi-vertical position. The other is entertaining neighbours.* I have no idea what it is with them, but the woman who lives there comes home with a male acquaintance and they seem to gain some entertainment by calling one another names and trading insults with the volume up (every word audible through the connecting wall). I don’t know if it’s their way of having sex but it happens at least three times a week and starts around midnight and goes on till gone one in the morning.
The former reason for my other enforced insomnia has me stumped for now. I can’t keep scoffing pain killers unless I want my liver to give out, but hope! My doctor has suggested some type of therapy and coping techniques which I am going to be introduced to and soon.
The latter reason could be cured by the purchase of a gun and two bullets.
AGAIN, (capital letters to show I mean it) THE PREVIOUS IS A SATIRE. I AM NOT A TERRORIST. EVEN BLOODY IRRITATING, SELFISH, HEARTLESS, GUTLESS, SPIRITLESS NOISY WASTE OF SPACE NEIGHBOURS DESERVE THEIR LIFE.
Ahem.
Ever since I found out I am an Aspie (Asperger’s syndrome person) I have got worse when it comes to not suffering fools gladly and my misanthrope metre has risen several notches.

*In case you’re wondering, it’s the same neighbour mentioned in a previous posting. I said I was moving home, but I never did. I stopped where I was. (Where I am?). You see, it might sound silly and sentimental but this is my home and I love it here. Four walls and a roof enclosing an interior that means a lot to me. Maybe because it’s the first place I ever got on my own, without my Mum or whoever making the application.

VERY NICE FROM AN ASPIE

All council office workers, without exception, no matter on what level, should be painlessly put down, like They do with a vicious dog or a person in death penalty countries.
Every name-badge wearing smug superior type with their hands in my business is a waste of space.
Here is a short list of the reasons why they should be and why they are;
Using vital monitoring equipment that was installed to check for street crimes and possible acts of terrorism to perform actions liking watch if someone really lives where they say they live.
Leaving both paper and e files that could be used to personally identify someone and use it for their own purposes on public transport.
Not providing enough public toilets and charging money for what there are. (Exact change only please, no 5p and 2p and 1p’s).
Wasting hundreds of pounds of tax payers money fitting dustbins with little monitors to see if the householder is not putting unauthorised rubbish in them. These monitors were found to be worse than useless and the whole thing had to be scrapped. Not even an apology from the direction of the mouths of council office officials
Complaining in such a way that taxes are risen because they want private parking where the poor ordinary sods have to pay to park, with tickets that are registered to that person’s car registration plate alone, so even if you come back within your allotted hour, you can’t give your partly used ticket to someone else.
As soon as they are fitted with their name badges this alters their DNA, which means they never, ever, no matter what, if they have been caught with the evidence and on one of their little monitoring devices, admit that they made a mistake. Never apologising but then they have nothing to say sorry for since they didn’t do anything wrong.
Spending all day with their feet on their desks throwing paper darts at pictures of the poor ordinary sods going about their lawful business that they have photographed using the aforementioned monitoring equipment.
All right, I was joking about the last one. If that was all they did, they wouldn’t be so bad and some should be allowed to live. So long as they don’t congregate in groups of more than two. And they are subject to compulsory sterilisation.

DISCLAIMER : I AM NOT A TERRORIST(In big, important letters) Just in case anyone is reading this that might have some connection or sympathy with council office workers, or is one themselves, this is what you call an example of satire. I don’t agree with the deliberate killing of any living thing. Even ants and slugs and council office workers deserve to live freely and without harm.

GET ON WITH IT

Apparently, I am the proud owner of a case of mild Asperger’s syndrome.
No, seriously. I’ve had tests and everything. Brain tests, where you have to react to situations and fill in forms et al. The social worker person They gave to me (not to keep) due to me being disabled arranged ‘em. I hadn’t mentioned it before today because I wasn’t sure of the results.
Actually, it explains a lot. I am uncertain and awkward in social situations (I’ve read it described as ’socially naive’ which is lovely and poetic) never know what to say, and groups of people make me feel genuinely uncomfortable. Social awkwardness is a symptom. I’d rather be alone (seriously, honestly. No games. I am a total, uncompromising loner. I am content that way). I prefer objects and animals and books to human beings.
I can’t get my head around why people howl and scream and laugh and make eternal promises over events. I rarely get angry or upset or afraid or happy and it rarely lasts more than a few seconds. Things rarely touch me emotionally to any depth, not like other people.* Again, Asperger’s types can’t get along with others and have no idea about emotions and why human beings get upset.
Another by-product is my brain not being able to handle sensory overload. The slightest sound gets to me and distresses me. That’s why I wear headphones when I’m out, to shut out the irritating of someone else talking in public places or buses. Someone talking outside my house puts me off being able to concentrate.
Then there is the inability to work out people’s emotions via their expressions. I’ve joked in the past that there is a connection missing in my brain because everyone’s expression looks the same (bar my Mum) and those emoticons, that you use to give expression to your writing, are just little yellow balls with dots on them. I’d much rather hear than see. It’s not that I can’t tell people apart, it’s just that I can’t tell what are people are ’saying’ by their facial features movements.
And don’t get me started on the absolute terror I feel if I’m forced to break my routine for any reason. Honestly. I have to make a cup of tea, for example, a certain way, and eat at a certain time etc. If something gets in the way and I have to divert I break into a cold sweat. Same with spontaneity. I have to plan everything down to the finest detail or else, same as above. All examples of Asperger’s syndrome setting the mechanics of my brain machine.
I’m glad really. I’m not a miserable old misanthropic, routine-driven uninspiring recluse by choice. It’s my brain. Like a condition.
It’s absolutely fascinating, all of it. I really must learn more of this strange condition I’ve just learned is part of me.

*When I was a kid, from my early teens onward, I could handle things and was cool-headed when it came to excitable situations. My Dad jokingly used to compare me to the chap in Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If’, and quote;
‘If you can keep your head when all about are losing theirs and blaming it on you’.
Both my sisters and my Mother get really upset and excitable, and I coolly solve the problem, where it’s a computer with a virus, television with an unseeing screen, or furniture with a broken leg, whatever it is. That’s if they bother listening to me. Today, I am very practical and reason and not emotion-driven.

R.I.P. GEORGE CARLIN

George Carlin: 12th May 1937-22nd June 2008.

I only just discovered this great, clever, articulate man went into hospital because his heart didn’t feel right. And he didn’t make it.
He will live on as long as people stand up for the right to freedom of speech, and remember that offensive is only a word.
I’ll leave you with that hollow feeling you get when you have had a genuine shock, and his words on religion.

“Religion has convinced people that there’s an invisible man…living in the sky, who watches everything you do every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a list of ten specific things he doesn’t want you to do. And if you do any of these things, he will send you to a special place, of burning and fire and smoke and torture and anguish for you to live forever, and suffer and burn and scream until the end of time. But he loves you. He loves you and he needs money.”

EXPECTATIONS, UNFULFILLED

There was supposed to be a rare, massive storm hitting the north of England yesterday, and Manchester was right in it’s path.
Well, it was a rare storm, if by rare you mean ‘nowt to it’. I expected a real tree-bender and a deluge-like rain storm. Instead, the leaves rippled a bit and the rain was about as intimidating as a baby’s tears.
But then us in this country aren’t used to real weather, like tropical storms or Arctic level snows or desert heat. The weather is too changeable, variable, and extremely temperate. In fact, we in the good old British Isles live in a band known as the temperate zone, because you don’t get too much of any type of weather. So, taking all this into consideration, it probably could be classed as a rare storm.
Also. . .
I had another dream in which all the family were at home (by home I mean the house where I grew up) and my Dad was alive. I’m always having dreams like that and wake up dulled with regret because those happy times will never be revived. Does this mean I’m starting to develop an older person’s hankering for the past? I’m forty-five soon. Still middle-aged. But then I am very set in my ways and steady in my outlook, like everything to have a routine and unplanned excitement frightens the life out of me, so perhaps I’m older in my subconscious*, hence dreams of memories of happier times when I was living at home and the family were around.

*Apologies for the implied ageist dig at older folk, making out they are reclusive and uninspiring. A lot of older folk I’ve met through my Mum’s club all live thrilling exciting lives and love challenge. It’s just a description of me, plodding and steady and to most people, yes boring. ‘Old before me time’ they might say. But I’m not harming anyone.

THOUGHTS ON THE LONGEST DAY

It’s the summer solstice, longest day of the year today, the light lasts longer than any other day of the year.
So if you celebrate the summer solstice, or not, or are just living in it,
all the best.

REAL-LIFE MIRACLES WITHOUT THE NEED FOR THEISM

According to quantum physics, two particles can be hundreds of miles apart and yet react to one another in the same way at the same moment.
If you shoot light particles through a pair of slits, you can’t tell which slit it will go through until you observe it. Sometimes, the same particle can go through both slits. That is called the Copenhagen Interpretation, named after the place where it was first discovered.
There are four recognisable dimensions which are height, width, depth and space/time. According to quantum physics, there are at least another six which could lead to the theory of invisible, connecting worlds, like in ‘His Dark Materials’.
Nothing can move faster than light. The faster you go the nearer you get to light speed, the slower time passes on the craft you are travelling in.
Relativity is the idea that everyone sees things differently from different angles. Someone on a railway station platform can see a train going by. Someone on the train can see the person on the station going by. Both are equally right.
See that? . A quarter of a million bacteria can fit on that dot.
Huntington’s chorea is a congenital* genetic disease that effects the brain and nervous system but which doesn’t manifest itself in it’s human host till after the host is old enough to have reproduced and the gene carried onto the next generation.
Bats navigated by a system of sophisticated sonar. They send a squeak out and it strikes whatever object is in the way and bounces back, so they can find their way around. The bat’s ears close when the squeak leaves the body, so as not to deafen it, and opens when the sonar audio reflection comes back so it can pick it up.
Given all these wonders of science, do we really the idea of gods and angels and spirit beings? Isn’t the discovery of science miracle enough without shoehorning some theist dimension into it all?

*Obligatory self-pitying note; Congenital means formed between conception and birth which means you’re stuck with it as soon as you come out of the womb. I know. My condition is congenital. The genetic dice was loaded against me before I had the chance to do anything.