Discworldian physics. And the beginning of the end times.

Monday morning… Traffic was super mundane and no one tried to murder me. Which is… (in all honesty) exceptionally weird. Usually theres a least one. So… off to a good start. I realise I’m totally jinxing myself (and potentially everyone else on the earth) and that this bump in the space-time fabric has just caused one of the celestial elephants to stumble, cantilevering our planet dangerously off to one side. This could be the end for us. (I always suspected my life had purpose) Joey, pusher of the red button, destroyer of humanity.

Vaguely I wonder if cantilevering is really a word. And more importantly if I’ve used it correctly. My thought process being, since there are four elephants holding up the planet (on the back of giant space turtle), one stumbling means, at that point the planet would be cantilevered? Ie, not supported. Anyways. I apologise if I got it wrong. I am not an architect, engineer or astrophysicist. If you want to send me some pithy, hate mail, I’m okay with that. (I won’t be checking my mail again anyway)

a__tuin_and_the_disc_world_by_theyoungtook.jpg

The above assumes you have a working understanding of Discworldian physics. How someone could get this far in life WITHOUT an understanding thereof is beyond me… but I imagine there are people out there… you know… *cough* living in a dark Platonian cave playing shadow puppets or whatever people do for fun in allegories of this type. (Joey pats myself on the back for combining Terry Pratchett, flat-earthism and Philosophy one oh one into a single post, yay!)

Hmmm. One of my IP addresses has JUST (randomly) decided it’s in conflict. Conflict with whom is unclear… Maybe Poland? Historically speaking that would probably make sense. We have always been envious of their lebensraum. Although the Poles make the best games these days (CD Project Red, 11 bit studios, etc) which makes me less inclined to call for invasion and take up a more, let them live and make games, philosophy.

Anyway, this is how it starts. ‘We have an elephant down. I repeat we have an elephant down’. (to be shouted in a Scottish accent). Although how one would go about righting a downed celestial elephant… is beyond me, I’m just the harbinger of doom, I don’t come with any real solutions or workable stratagems. I am the guy that leaves the wet towel on the bed, doesn’t replace toilet paper rolls and puts the empty milk carton BACK in the refrigerator… clearly I’m more disposed towards chaos (and getting shouted at by my wife).

I tag this post as ‘astronomy’. I chortle to myself as I tick the box. God, I am so funny.

An open mind…

The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it – Terry Pratchett

BodeHeadKey.png

MJ. That rare intersectionality where you can combine your favorite author with your favorite comic book.

I often decide that since it is in my mind, I must have put it there. Instead of challenging the concept that most of my most hardcore beliefs were actually placed there by someone else. I just entrenched and calcified those ideas. I’m am likely quite a porous individual, absorbing things willy-nilly like some sort of organic, meat-sack sponge.

That’s not to say I don’t have original thoughts. Well… I’m assuming some of them must be original… right? I’d love to see that version of me that evolved as a blank slate free from outside stimuli. What sort of person would that be, what would he have come up with…

openMindTerryPratchett.jpg

Would I be more Jack? Or more Ralph.

ralph-wave.gif

Probably Ralph. Wiggum I mean.

NOT a murder mystery

I forgot to lock my front door last night.

Terry Pratchett has this great paragraph about how, in Ankh-Morpork, there are actually very few murders. Mostly dead bodies are considered suicide. Walking in the Shades after dark for example, is suicide.

New Bitmap Image

While Johannesburg likely wasn’t used as a template for this Discworld metropolis (as far as I know) I feel it definitely ranks in the top five most Ankh-Morporkian cities on this plane of existence (up there with Lagos). The most glaring difference (which precludes Jo’burg from the top spot) is that instead of a brass bridge lined with hippos over the river Ankh (primarily used to dispose of dead bodies) we have a bridge over a train yard. (which broadly serves the same function). Also a bridge made of brass would have been stolen ages ago.

In any event, not locking your front door in South Africa is broadly considered suicide. (glad we made it!)

In all fairness in order to get into the master bedroom to murder us they’d still have to make it past the booby traps (the playroom strewn with Lego caltrops), the vicious guard basset (oh who am I kidding) and there’s always the chance they might trip over the German Shepherd in the passage (who would likely then roll over for tummy tickles). I sleep like the dead, but all the commotion might wake the missus (who will then punch me, ‘Your turn’.)

IMG00128-20101210-2155.jpg

Back when I was an (irresponsible) bachelor I slept with a Glock (.40S&W) underneath my pillow, 1UP and ready to rumble. It caused me endless frustration when girlfriends wanted to sleep over. (where is the Glock going to sleep?) Although savvy enough NOT to suggest they go sleep in the other room due to their presence deteriorating the defensive integrity of fort Joey, it generally elevated my already simmering levels of anxiety. (Clearly I had other qualities which glossed over some of the other more serious psychological… eh…  deficiencies)

Marriage has mellowed me somewhat (or turned the liquid cloudy, depending on how you look at it). These days instead of rolling out of bed and into my body armor I first have to go the cupboard and take it off a coat hanger. I also have to waste precious time taking my Glock out of the safe and cycling a round into the chamber. All this while under the added pressure of being murdered. (very inconvenient)

In other news I went for blood tests yesterday. The excitingly named D-Dimer protein test. Which looks for a protein in your blood which appears when you’re busy having a thrombosis that’s disintegrating. I’ve… torn a calf muscle (I think, although it could also be a DVT). My ability to tolerate pain after twenty five years of near constant boxing and ju-jitsu makes me weary of gritting through something that may not be what it appears. Especially since I’ve had a pulmonary embolism before. Which… as you might imagine really sucked.

Anyways, the doc phoned me with the results of my test this morning. Negative (but with provisos). He thinks maybe I should go onto the rat poison for a month… just to be sure… which I’m not particularly keen on. Since I was going for blood tests anyway, I did a non-fasting lipid test. Which was was higher than it should be. I’m more annoyed about my cholesterol than the rat poison. I generally pride myself in eating healthy.

The indestructibility of youth is ebbing away to its inevitable conclusion. So annoying.