For Medicinal Purposes Only

The other night I woke up at about 2am, unable to sleep. So I did what I usually do and watched some TV. They were showing a repeat of "kalitera Mazi", an afternoon programme that I don't usually see.

They had a "Colour Therapist" on who was explaining how she makes a living, as far as I could tell, by telling people how to choose what colours to wear. The colour of your clothes apparently has an effect on your health.

This is because different coloured fabrics absorb different frequencies of light, so the light energy that hits your skin is different.

Now, I'm very sceptical when it comes to "alternative" medicine. The kind of "medicine" which people will swear definitely works, and yet when anyone gathers statistics they can't find any proof. The sort of medicine that cures ailments which haven't got definite physical symptoms, and yet can't cure, say, cancer.

Nevertheless, I've worked out what colours can really make a difference. If you look at a rainbow, it's the colour at the very end. The pot of gold.

I'm going to set up in business as a "money therapist". The idea is that the kind and amount of money that you keep on your person channels different types of energy through your body.

Just because I'm among friends here, I'm going to give you all a free diagnosis session. No, it's okay, you don't need to thank me, I'm just doing it to make you all healthier and happier.

I think that you're all weighed down by the money that you carry. Not so much by the notes and coins that you have in your wallets and purses, but by the plastic money. In order to become more carefree and well-balanced you need to channel that negative energy away from yourselves.

Simply check your credit and debit card balances. Work out how much you can afford to spend on them. Frightening, isn't it? Just think of every dollar and cent as a crippling weight. Because I'm so altruistic and because you're people I care about, I'll make the ultimate sacrifice and take your burden from you.

What do reckon? Try it and see. If it works, then I'll become a full time therapist and spread happiness and health throughout the world. The colour of money. That's the best medicine...

All major credit cards accepted.

Newsworthy

There have been a few news items that caught my eye over the last week or so, but for some reason none of them were inspiring enough to warrant a post. Or maybe I'm just suffering from a lack of creativity. Anyway, here are a couple of them.

---

What A Party!

You know that your birthday party's gone well when you go to sleep in some random place on your way home, and the sound of an express train going over you doesn't wake you up...

This happened to a 32 year old woman from Belarus. She lay down on the ground to have a little sleep, since she was feeling the effects of a boozy night. She didn't realise that she had lain down between some train tracks.

If she'd woken up and tried to sit up then she wouldn't have survived as the train rattled past above her at 90 mph.

All of which makes me wonder what kind of birthday celebrations she's planning for next year...

---

The Breath-Test Car

I'm sure this isn't a new idea, but it was on the TV last night. This is the car that has a built in breathalyser. You blow into it, and it only starts if you're not over the legal limit.

There are clearly so many problems with this idea that I won't bother to list them. But I did wonder about similar applications:

• Mobile Disco Detector : The engine is automatically cut off when the car's stereo system reaches a certain decibel level

• Intelligent Parking : After two failed attempts to get into the same space, the car parks itself (I need this!)

• Flat Cap Detector : If the driver is wearing a flat cap, the car will move at twice the speed displayed on the speedo.

• Road Pacifier : Detects high outputs of adrenaline, indicating that the driver is suffering from road rage, at which point the horn is disabled, all windows and doors locked, and a soothing medley of dolphin mating calls is played on the stereo.
  

24th March 2108

As you all know I notched up my first hundred years of blogging last October. I threatened then to do restrospectives from time to time (You know - "On this day 100 years ago"), especially when I get low on material.

However, today I'm going to give you the post I didn't write on 24th March 2008. I didn't write it because I didn't know at the time what was happening.

Looking back on that day, I see that it was nothing special. I'd posted a "Scary Jean Knee Special" a few days previously, and Jean Knee was talking about her concerns about a zombie invasion.

If I'd paid attention to her, I would have taken defensive measures. I would have gone out and got protective clothing, of the sort that can't be bitten through, and I would not have eaten that egg.

Ironically, I had been reading Jean Knee's post about chocolate eggs, and had commented that they were too sickly. Nevertheless, in the interests of science, I decided to try a few, so I'd gone out and bought some - they were being sold off cheap after Easter.

Little did any of us know at the time that a particular batch of eggs had been made with milk tainted with bacteria. It's not surprising that no-one knew, since it was not detectable by any of the routine tests carried out on foodstuffs.

I only realised about a week later when someone commented that I was walking like a chicken, whilst I was on my way to the butchers to buy some tripe. By then the first medically verified cases of zombification started to be reported.

As one of the pioneering "New Zombies", life was difficult. Of course I didn't go to the doctor - I would have been "cured" (i.e. killed), since in those days they didn't have zombie food, so we had to rely on biting people.

I kept blogging as if nothing had happened. I didn't dare talk about it. It was agony to hear about Jean Knee's fate. She'd predicted that she only had a 33% chance in a Zombie attack, and she was right. I knew it was my kind who did that to her. I'm glad that she didn't blame me personally for it, and that the 33% of her that was left has still managed to produce such entertaining blog posts and comments this past century.

[License]

Bee had managed to avoid the invasion, since she was out buying shoes at the time. Though if anyone could have outrun a Zombie in stilettos it would have been her. Tracy was also unaffected (they didn't get round to invading West Virginia for some reason).

As we look forward to this year's possible election of the first Zombie President of the United States (medical evidence has recently been found to prove that despite what many people believe this wasn't Ronald Reagan), it's amazing how far equal rights have come in such a short space of time.

I might write more on the subject another day, but right now I'm going to grab my shroud and go out for a shuffle...

Dizzy

"Aghhhhhhhhhhhh! I've had it! I'm Done for!"

"Aghhhhhhhhhhhh! No, I'm not one of them!"

"The Horror!"

Scottie woke up and hurridly looked around him. In his half-sleepy state he looked to see if she was there. He felt a wave of panic run over him. There she was! The Lady in Grey. She was coming nearer...

He should run, but he was paralysed with fear...

"You were having another nightmare, Mr Fergusson", said the nurse, taking a thermometer from the pocket of her grey uniform. "It's okay now."

Later that day he was taken to his weekly meeting with the Institute's physciatrist.

"The dream started the same as always, but this time it ended. I managed to get away, though I couldn't believe it."

"Suppose you tell me about it."

I was in the city art gallery. I love it there. Well, I did, until... Anyway, that's when I saw her. Dressed in grey sitting in front of an old portrait. She was staring at it. Her hands were frantically busy - I saw she was making something out of bits of office stationary that she must have had in her handbag.

I thought she was just a bit dotty, but then I realised the startling resemblence.

The wierd figure that she was crafting looked just like me!

But she had her back to me! How could she know? I tried to get her attention, but she kept staring ahead and crafting. Then I realised the other startling resemblence.

The woman in the old portrait looked just like the woman in grey!

I left the gallery - I no longer felt like looking, and went walking. I didn't know where, just around the city. Eventually I came to the graveyard. This seemed to suit my mood, and I walked around. Then I saw her. Her!

She was staring again. This time at an old gravestone. I walked up to her. She didn't seem to notice me. The inscription on the grave said "Carlotta Knee", and there were some dates. Some time in the 19th century. Suddenly, she turned round.

She looked straight through me and walked away. I stood there wondering, and then I noticed that she'd dropped something. It was the wierd figure that looked like me. And she'd crushed it beneath her feet...

After that, things are a bit of a blur. Days passed. Everywhere I went, there She was. In that same grey suit (or maybe she had a whole wardrobe full of them). I went for a meal at my favourite restaurant. She walked past, and I almost died. "John Ferguson, died suddenly at Park N Pizza choking on an olive." That would have been embarrassing (I don't even like olives particularly), but fortunately the waiter was an expert at that Heimlich thing.

Anyway, I decided that next time I'd confront her. But Fate had other plans. I was walking by the river when I saw someone in trouble. I jumped in and pulled out the drowning person. It was the Lady in Grey. I took her back, practically unconscious, to my apartment.

She slept for hours. When she woke up she started to thank me for saving her life. Then she stopped.

"Dang, It's you! The horror! You should have left me to drown, not bring me back so you could torture me more!"

"But..."

"You keep following me. Everywhere I go. I know what you are. I know that I've only got a 33% chance of surviving an attack from zombies like you."

"But..."

"AND BAD LUCK, YOU'RE THE 33%!", She shouted lunging towards me.

She had reckoned without my arachnophobia, which has meant that I have excellent reflexes when it comes to running away screaming. But she kept following me.

I ran. And ran. But I couldn't get any distance between us. Maybe she's got a phobia too. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and ended up at the old Mission. It's practically deserted, just the odd nun around from time to time to tend to the grounds. I headed for the imposing bell tower.

I don't know why. It was probably the old survival instinct of getting to higher ground, but I found myself pelting up the stairs.

Then I realised she was no longer there. From the top of the tower, I saw her running away.

Which was crazy, because she could have got me, especially as I've no head for heights."

"Hmmmm", murmered the shrink, "This is a good sign. The dream is finished, and maybe you can get back to reality. Then eventually we can let you out of here."

"No!", said Scottie,"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay here. This is the one place I feel safe."

"Well, I didn't say we'd let you go straight away. Now that's it for today. I have to see the new patient now - the vertigo sufferer. We'll talk next week."

Scottie left the office feeling a lot better. So it was all in his mind after all! He nodded aknowlegment to the patient sitting in the waiting room, then suddenly froze. It was Her...

Silver Surfer

I'm not a geek!

Here is an update on the status of my computers. Something that has been occupying my time in the past few days, though you're probably not interested. If you want, feel free to skip this and comment about something completely different.

What do you mean that's what you always do?

---

Anyway, my laptop crashes at random intervals, and I'm going to have to find out why and possibly take it back. Otherwise it's fine...

With the security of having a second Windows machine, I decided to have a go at removing it from my main computer and installing Linux instead. It helped that I'd consumed a reasonable amount of vodka - I've never done anything like this and I don't think I'd have tried it whilst totally sober.

The operation involved reformatting my hard drive, and so deleting all of the files on it. I didn't bother to back any up. Photos, email inbox, the lot all went...

After a tense 30 minutes wondering whether I'd acutally have a useable computer at the end of all this, the operating system was installed and I could log on. It all seemed to work, and I spent the next few hours working out where and how to get all the software I needed.

I panicked a bit the next morning when I installed the video player and it only gave me sound and not pictures. No Cypriot Telly! Luckily I was able to sort that and watch a bit of breakfast TV before going to work. Phew!

The only thing I thought I might miss was Photoimpact - the wonderful photo editing suite that came with the computer, and is now history. However I've now got GIMP which is at least as good.

You might be wondering whether this is the first sign of something bad happening to me and that I'm going to grow a beard, develop a taste for real ale, and possibly take up pipe smoking, spend my weekends campaigning to save the countryside and going round National Trust parks. Hmmm, what do you think? I think not this side of Eternity...

Or perhaps I'm going to turn into a geek, though I suspect I'm getting a bit old for that sort of thing. Anyway, you don't qualify until you've physically opened your computer up and swapped all the parts for others that never quite work properly. Since I only do software not hardware that won't happen.

---

If you skipped all that you can start reading again

Next Time: A Scary Jean Knee special

Woman Driver

You will of course remember last month's review of Airport (1970). I know that you hang on my every word, so I'm sure you won't need to check the link to refresh your memory.

Well, we finally got round to watching the first sequel - Airport 75. This stars Charlton Heston as an expert 747 pilot, and of course features another thrilling mid-air disaster.

As before, there are a variety of interesting and fun characters - a singing nun, an alcoholic Myrna Loy (reminiscent of Nora Charles, as Helena pointed out), a young girl on her way to get a kidney transplant (Linda Blair).

This time, the accident is caused by the pilot of a light aircraft. He is battling difficult weather, and also feeling under the weather himself, but he is eager to get back to his wife and their warm bed.

Unfortunately, he suffers from a heart attack and crashes into the 747. "Is there much damage?", asks someone. "No, not much, just a hole where the pilots usually sit!". So there is a plane load of people flying over Utah with no-one to fly the plane.

Look, no hands!

They've got the autopilot, but all that does is keeps them going in a straight line. Unfortunately they're on their way to Salt Lake City, and the straight lines all point to mountains. The autopilot is also not going to be much help with the landing.

Who Put Those In the Way?

The chief air hostess, Karen Black, has to save the day. She is given instructions on flying the plane by Charlton Heston. "THE STEWARDESS IS FLYING THE PLANE?" asks one of the suddenly anxious and panic-stricken passengers incredulously.

He'd be a lot more worried if he was in the cockpit. Karen Black's character is not exactly the first person you'd want to rely on in that situation. She's terrified, and manages to knock the radio off the correct frequency. You'd have thought with over 200 people on this plane there would be someone who would be calmer.

Eventually the situation gets so bad that they decide to winch a pilot in through the hole in the cockpit, so that they'll have a fighting chance of getting it on the ground in one piece.

Anyway, Helena's verdict on the film was that it's better than the first one. It's less plausible and most critics would say not as good, but she said that it wasn't as "dull" - it's certainly true that there's a lot more action, and less emphasis on personal relationships, though there's still loads of humour.

Maybe next month we'll get round to Airport 77...