h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I've realised what Helga is playing at. It's the Bible; warn them twice and if he doesn't hear it, treat him a pagan. It's Titus 3:10-11. She thinks I'm warped and sinful; self-condemned. The voices say she has wept. Things would be so much easier if she went to the Lord to find out what's going on. She sent me an email in which she said she'd seen it all, worked out what was going on. But it wasn't right, it was just her fearing female mind making stuff up. And on the basis of that, she is having nothing to do with me.

This is an example of how Christian religion can really screw things up between people. Using the Bible like a rule book without living in the Spirit - "who is this that speaks words without knowledge?" I wish I'd kept that email because the phraseology was telling.

Well yeah, exactly.

This is how Bible fundamentalists behave.

There's no getting through to her unless the Lord speaks to her; but I wonder whether she hears from the Lord at all, sometimes. I don't know. She's determined and stubborn.

She weeps because she believes what her mind makes up for her. It's so silly. How can it be though, for a Christian who has the Spirit, to get it so horribly wrong? Oh well. So we see the world taking the piss, i.e. S with her demons and her doctorate in lying. And we have the Christians turning their backs. They used to treat me that way even when was clean so it isn't a result of the fact that I enjoy refreshments. That's just the peg to hang the behaviour on.

They're cultists. Unfortunately. Still, I did get a book out of it. And another one - Volume 2. I could continue producing volumes of Words ad infinitum really. Words volume 7.

The women are cleaning the laboratory.

How would you get through to someone who believes they are right. Well look at my Caroline story. I held on to that belief for 14 years and nothing anyone said had any effect whatsoever. The Lord had to let me change my mind and realise.

In the meantime she cursed my book and said that it wouldn't come out. So not only did she itch to stop me working on the radio, she wants to stop my book coming out as well. Which is very bad, because by all accounts it's a very good book which God uses.

What you do not know about methheads is they're highly unpredictable.

It's a battle of wills, because Helga's position is not God I don't think. Helga isn't representing the Holy One in her stance. So it's the stone will of Mrs van Niekerk against the stoned will of Woofti. (Just a joke.) Both too proud to back down. Me, on principle, because I've worked hard for my privileges (see below) and I'm not going to allow anyone to take them away simply because they haven't the revelation to know what's going on. She, because she thinks she's right and God is on her side. This behemoth needs breaking. She has to understand that God can extend grace to other people that she doesn't agree with or understand. It's a basic thing in the faith: other people's walks are not your concern. "If I want him to stay alive until I come, what is that to you?" She's a busybody, poking her nose where it doesn't belong and making judgements she has no authority to make.

Worked hard - of course a fundie will say Oh so it's salvation by works now is it?

It's not my salvation that I'm talking about, it's my privileges

If you want to gain a place higher up, you have to go lower.

There may be some adventures to enjoy as a part of the package of the privileges. God puts you through stuff to make you ready for things.

Now Vic wants to "inspect" my gas cylinders to see if they are meeting the insurer's requirements. I don't know what these requirements are, so I've asked him. He eats a lot of shame, does Vic. My cylinders are on the balconies, so I should imagine that's in accordance with the insurer's requirements.

I expect he's creaming his socks at the prospect of coming to inspect my cylinders. I will let them into the kitchen balcony but I don't want them in my den, although this will probably be inevitable because it is where I store the cylinder.

I already told him where I put the cylinders so I don't know why an inspection is necessary. Doesn't he believe me? Does he think I'm lying? What an alphagat. But anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, although he is in deep shame and blushing at the moment, it's terrible, poor old Vic, can't stand the heat. And Boehler is a patronising Yit as well. I'll have to make sure I'm in when they want to come round.

No, I can't find the relevant law on storing gas cylinders. I've asked Vic what the insurer's requirements are, but he hasn't answered yet. I'll have to phone Zelda and ask her to send me a digest of the regulations, seeing that I can't find them online.

Vic and Peter both want to come round. They are apparently in and out of Beatrice's place all the time. I really don't want those people in my space but I suppose rules is rules. Positions of power are generally speaking filled by people who want positions of power, and they are the least suitable for it. Tengo mas potencia que los dos hombres. No me quieran los dos.

OK well that'll be all.

I phoned Beatrice but she has attitude. Doesn't worry me. I've got used to it now, people's attitude. She was trembling by the time I finished the call. Obviously she wanted to patronise me - they all patronise, these people. The letter I got from the woman downstairs, terribly patronising. Peter patronises me. Vic is just screwed up, completely screwed up. He told me I had to go to Olympik and then he told me the exact opposite, that I mustn't go to Olympik. e pseustes e mwros estin.

It looks like I may have to do a reprinting of the English edition of Words. I've only got about two and a half boxes left of them. I don't know what's in the garage; Xhosa mostly, I think. Mimi has got a bunch of boxes at her place so I'll go round there tomorrow morning probably and pick them up. Because I want to take some to the junk shop up the road, for people to take them away. But I'm not going if all I've got to give him are Afrikaans books. I'll give him half English half Afrikaans. I may be able to do that this morning, we shall see. I'll have to split up the English books I've got at the moment, between Michael and the junk shop. I won't give the junk shop man many, unless he turns out to be a good supplier and wants more.



Right, I went to give Michael two carrier bags filled with Words in the English and Xhosa editions. Then I went to the junk shop and gave the man there a carrier bag with the English and Afrikaans editions of Words, and a few copies of Dorchester Starlings. His shop is just the shop I had in mind when I was thinking about how to shift the poetry and Words. I hope he hurries up and reads Words so that he knows what he's shifting on his shelves.

OK I've got to phone Mamacos about curtains and Mowbray about books.

And I had better phone Andrew and find out what's happening with the book and the printer. There is a revised quote coming out from the people in Jo'burg who have my car. Zelda is seeing to everything for me. Bless her heart. I shall buy her a bottle of bonk after it's all over, and a nice cake or something. I believe these Afrikaner girls like their cake.

Right, phoned Mowbray, Mamacos and Andrew. I had forgotten I had already phoned Mamacos and they're coming on Tuesday. Silly me. Then Andrew is busy with the book and seeing to quotes and so on. And Mowbray - I've got to go there and see them about the LSJ, the OED and the TDNT/TDOT.

Are there roadworks on the Main Road? Because if there are, I've got to walk home. I can't be doing with going round the back streets and ending up in Wynberg.

Right, I'm ordering these books. The LSJ and the OED are both available locally, and the Theological Dictionaries are overseas so they will take moons plural to get here.

OK so it's PO Box, Mowbray and the Copy Shop.

OK. Relax. Chill. Consider. Meditate. Evaluate, and Think Slowly but Surely. Talk the next few hours over with the Lord. My goodness me what a mess. You see I reflect people back at each other.

What's the matter with her... why is she shaking her head like that? I was totally fine until she decided to try getting heavy, contrary to what God wanted, and then everything fell apart. I mean it's going to, with me, isn't it. Because if you show me flesh, I will respond in kind. Flesh gives birth to flesh. If you show me your heart, I will respond in kind. Spirit gives birth to spirit. They can't handle me for some reason. I know I can be difficult, but we were getting along so well before everything blew up, and we know who wants to drive a wedge between the brethren and the saints.

Right. I need the viola part for the Sonatina. I need just one copy of that. For some reason I didn't get three copies of that. I need just one copy of the Etymological Dictionary. I couldn't find the file with the other one on, so I'm just going for the --- but hey, no, I need both, really. I'll have to look.

Right, I've found both: Chantraine and Boisacq. So I will have those two printed again to take to Beit Chesed along with the OED, LSJ, BDB, TDOT, TDNT. Excellent. But I'm putting off going out until Monday, when I shall have the time in the morning. I believe in acting in the noon. Well actually, in the morn. Think in the morning, Act in the noon, Eat in the evening, Sleep at night. I've said it before but I'll say it again: Britten's setting of those words is nigh-on perfect.

OK I'm putting off Mowbray and the Copy Shop until possibly tomorrow morning. I'd forgotten, it's Saturday tomorrow. Right, now have to go with the maid to the ATM to get her her wages. Then the PO Box.

Trials with the BC guy and the matter of gas cylinders. I won't go into it in detail. Suffice it to say, it's hassles I could do without.

I recorded on Facebook I think, that I was planning to move over to electricity instead of gas, for my heating. This is highly convenient in view of the present troubles surrounding gas cylinders.

OK, Mohammed is coming round tonight to pick up the cylinders I have in my flat. Then at least I shall be legal according to the BC guy. Mohammed says that people are usually allowed two cylinders. But the BC guy says only one. Whom to believe? Well the BC guy has been mistake in his mind before, and given that the gas guy says we're allowed two, which is apparently the norm, and given also that there is a certain amount of enjoyment of imposition of restriction, as it were, (cough), then I am minded to want verification from the insurers that we really are allowed only one, and not two, on our property; and furthermore, that we are not even allowed to have one in the garage, and one in the flat. I find this difficult to believe. So I want it verified.

Unfortunately the BC guy refused to tell me who the insurers were so that I can verify for myself what the situation is. When I pressed him, he put the phone down on me. Well this doesn't inspire confidence either. You see Mohammed says we're allowed two. But the BC guy says we're only allowed one (the word was enunciated with a thrill of satisfaction) and not even allowed one in the garage. I find this difficult to believe. That's why I want to make my own enquiries.

Hey ho.

OK, so Mohammed is coming round this evening to take away my gas cylinders that Foc says are surplus to what is allowed by the insurers. I think that we are allowed two cylinders and that Foc is making up stories, for his mum. Puta and Foc are both worshippers of the Hidden Trrd and Clenched, and they want to exercise power here. Well I don't know about that (you should hear some of what goes on in Foc's flat on a Saturday night at 3am) but Jesus is my Lord and he's the King of kings and Lord of lords. If you got a problem with me, take it up with Jesus.

Mohammed just phoned. He's coming to take away my gas cylinders. I hope to be able to ask him to bring one of them back again after I've made my enquiries.

It strikes me that I might be able to ask one of the other tenants whether they use gas and if not, whether I could store a cylinder in their garage. This would be an easy solution to the problem. One needs two cylinders so that one has a backup when the other one dies.

The thing is it's FREEZING COLD in this flat in the winter. One really needs heating. But well we'll see how I get on with the electric radiator. I've boosted the heat in my den with the gas fire and now I've got the electric radiator on. Let's see if it makes a difference.

And then on Monday I have to make an appointment to see the insurance broker who deals with this block. Given that Foc has such an angry little wiggle waggle, meaning you can't deal with him, beacuse he loves his power. Last thing was not allowing anyone to park in the yard. Now it's the gas cylinders. What next? Should I start attending Body Corporate meetings? I can imagine what they're like. Bootrace said Foc and Puta were round her place all the time. So clearly there's little circles of power. I'm just not interested.

Well, the electric radiator is very warm in here. And it's 13 degrees out. That's fairly chilly. So hopefully electricity will be OK from now on. In which case I shan't have to worry about gas at all. But I still want to go and see the insurance broker simply because Foc was so aggressive and nasty about my going. When I told him someone had told me we were allowed 2, there was a very telling reaction in the vibes - and "who?"

Gus "sees something" in Jesse.

I think he's seen his wiggle waggle.

He wants to give him a woggle.

He wants Jesse to have a wiggle waggle woggle.

Then he will be a super duper trooper.

Gus wants what Gus sees.

Mr White has become black. It's an morality story. Very good.

Mr White gets paid for cooking meth. Seven and a half million dollars a year. There's no car wash in the world that can do that kind of business. Seven million could take years. Save it? Where? It's cash, dude. Cashoids. Fifty million zillion dollar billies. Oh dear Mrs White is a pink fleshy cow with loose lips fatty face and staring bubble eyes. Like a bowl of milk, on the turn. Not nice. Oh no, he's got to put something in Gus's drink. I wouldn't like to do that. No, no, no. Gus is a nice man, who kills us for joy. I like the way he does his hair.

Now then, Jesus says, Come to me, and I will give you rest. Go to Jesus. Foc doesn't want me to go and check up on his story with the insurer. He says I must "learn" not to verify things. Well tough shpt, Foc. I don't trust you and I don't believe you and I think you're a worshipper of the Hidden Trrd and Wacky Bolok. Gus can be ever so charming.

Ooh, now Hank has got Gus's fingerprints.

Oh no, I can't stand tension. Now Wossisname is making Gus's coffee and he's putting something in his drink but he had better not. "I don't want to see that in your hand unless you see me with mine, OK?" ike is the most sympathetic character on Breaking Bad. I think he's a lovely man. I don't want to see you with your gun on at all. Frillynix put the phone down on me. Relacion - Gus pronounces the -cion Portuguese style.

Gus gulped and looked anxious. Gosh that was exceptional.

Mike's going to teach Jesse how to shoot. Things are going to get heavy. I wonder what they are about to do with Jesse. Do they love his brain? They see "loyalty" in Jesse. Loyalty is nice, loyalty is good. I like loyalty. Loyal to Jesus. Why won't Foc tell me what the insurers are? He said we were only allowed one gas cylinder on our property. I think he's a worshipper of the Hidden Trrd. I heard him through the aethers, frenziedly screaming the worship of demons and hell at 3 one night. The Hidden Trrd was happy. O, happy is the Hidden Trrd, when Foc gets his wiggle waggle woo.

Foc wants us all to be scared of him. But he is like a little boy caught with his fingers up his bum. The astonishing thing is, I saw a man in a black suit come to The Sheraton one time. He was carrying a camcorder. Later that night I went to the toilette to relieve myself. I listened to the quietness of the night. And then I heard a groaning and a moaning and an Ooof. (Well I didn't hear the Ooof but I am pretty sure there were some Ooofs being said that night.) I wasn't the only one relieving himself that night. What a silly billy is our friend Foc. You cannot convince me that grooth and bumber is correct doily. No no no, it isn't correct doily at all. It is thoroughly incorrect doily and pantie time.

He put the phone down on me because he couldn't cope with the anger he was feeling. He's got a red hot coal in his chest which makes him angry because he knows his time is short-short. With every passing year his anger grows against humanity. He wants to kill humanity, but then he would have no-one to torment and hate and kill and so on. So he wants to kill 80% of humanity and possess the rest.

Imagine that - a world full of demonically possessed people. How awful that would be. You'd get Foc, damagedly running with his trousers down by his ankles, running after a man in a black suit and a teenage dirtyboy, wanting powah. Ooo, he's say. Ooo oo ooo ooo. Because he wants powah. So you think that Foc is lying? How embarrassing for him if so. Indeed I might make a formal complaint to whoever is in charge of this block, about him, if I find out that he's lied to me about what the insurers said with regard to gas cylinders. Because he already lied about the window people. He brought it up today, confident that I would be cowed into submission to the lie. I wasn't. But he lied about the window people, and so I think he's lying about the gas, too. We'll just have to see, won't we. I might be out on Monday, seeing the people at the insurance brokers. I've got to see them asap.

Well it's Friday Night now. Friday night is music night. I'm watching Breaking Bad again. Soon, it will be over. Impossible to say.

Great Uncle Woggle had a wiggle woggle woo.

(Trad.)

The fact that he was so angry when I asked him to provide me with details shows me that he might have been making up stories, you see, to satisfy his godlet. The more lies you tell, the more possessed you become. He is in a trap, entrapped, but he thinks he's free and getting freer. But no! He is bound tight in a trap by his little godlet and on his way to Hell if he doesn't turn, turn. You see his little godlet tells him to lie, lie, lie. S had the same; she had to lie, lie, lie as well. They have to steal, and lie, and mess up God's holy hill as much as they can, before they pop and the blood comes out.

How do you like that? Where's the blood of Jesus in all of this? Covering you, Sir. Yeah I know. It's good isn't it. Thank the Father for sending his only Son.

Right well I've got some writing to attend to in a bit. I feel like a staying up again, I slept this afternoon and I like the nighttime. I've got to continue work on Ite Thoai.

I need to get down to Ite Thoai. I also need to get down to doily.