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

The music on CCFM this morning is pretty dire. No melody, noisy.

I've been up all night. I'm quite tired now.

Do you know, they're STILL fert-ursing about upstairs?

Hey ho. Another day - 22 degrees today, however.

Oh yes, there's the SA Visa requirements being messed with at the moment, and the DA don't like it. I have to admit I don't know what the kerfuffle's about. Back in the day, you needed a tourist visa if you wanted to stay more than about three months as I remember, and you had to renew it every three months. I eventually gave up bothering to do that, and then I became permanent, so it was no longer applicable in casu meo.

The spot price of Brent Crude OIL.

Why "spot" price? Is it because the oil gets on your clothes and causes black spots?

But enough of this lixivacious nonsense. Mrs Honeybadger told me she'd cursed me terribly this morning. But she doesn't know Romans 8:28. Oh, it's Vicky Cole.

Mrs Honeybadger is different every day. She's certainly different today, from the way she was yesterday. And the word is, He's no longer respected, and no longer has a joyful heart. So we simply look to Jesus, mainly because our lives are a) hidden in Christ with God, and b) they come to us like mains electricity down the wire, like constantly, it's not like a blancmange, sort of here's yer lot and that's it. No no no, that's an entirely incorrect conception of what life in salvation is like. Life comes to us from the future constantly. Remember also that they are prone to falsetudinous utterance, like their master. And of course, remember this, Collard wants to make you evil, so under no circumstances whatever, are you to allow yourself to be "trained" by him. That's pretty clear. "Less offensive to the I." apparently. Oh, and can I believe that they are going to leave me alone henceforth? Was that true, or was that an untruthfulness? I'm still going to bolt my door.

I've lost respect in the eyes of the world, but then, that's probably no bad thing. I had no choice. Well I did, of course, and I said; but actually I hadn't a choice, if it was my choice, I had to refuse those misnomered ones the use of my mind and body and soul, any more.

So. As Doris said all those months ago, you've cut evil out of your life. Good.

And although Mrs H may not have been overly lavish with the actualite, verite, liberte, I hope they won't be bothering me again. And I hope I don't get mind controlled again. I'm sick of it. Why should people do that to me? Although of course sometimes it does make me feel better.

It's all too much for me to think about. I lack the conceptual framework to think about it properly.

It's Vicky Cole taking the piss again.

"We all need a coaching relationship with someone" - coaching someone? Coaching? Gospel coaches. Oh dear.

Coach. Mentor, perhaps. But not coach.

I haven't had a mentor since Old Spike. This horrendous version of the faith, that they espouse on the radio, I dunno.

Filw eidein ten filoteta en televisiais kai logizomai aei, aaa, hws glyky, kai eufrainw hyper autous gam ki eileikh sleep eil yeshu'ati redhead gorgeous and I shall

The movie The Last King of Scotland is terrifying. Old wossname is terrifying. There is a terrifying madness that exists, an African madness. Terrifying madness and a difficult extraordinariness and a useless pity and blood and corpses and headlines in the newspapers, dismaying the President and upsetting the balance of awareness.

Never again do I. They shall not interfere with the balance of my mental mind any more. They shall not switch my mind from knowing to not knowing and a yellow voltage of oblivion. They mention words and destiny. I say, I do not kill.