On bullshit, psychics and prayer

So, loaded question here and one I’ve always resisted asking on this blog: where do you stand on religion, alternative medicine and other such spiky subjects?

I wrote this on my other blog (which I forgot existed, whoops) and am reposting it here. It explains my stance on such matters.

I’d marry James Randi, if he weren’t such a funny colour. He’s had the skin of a cadaver since he was born.  The reason he grew that beard was to discourage people poking him on the chin to see if he moved.

He’s also gay, three times older than me and about a thousand times more clever than me.

Here he is in an exquisite takedown of Uri Geller and Peter Popoff:

And in a lovely lecture:

I’m a skeptic. I’m an atheist. I often tone down my opinions on such things in polite company, just as I try not to rant about atheism into the face of theists. I especially toned it down on my other blog, leaving nary but one huge rant and a few subtle links in the sidebar to give me away.  It was mostly to avoid showdowns with people who had mental health problems who felt they were helped by such things.  I have no right, and no interest, in doing anything to despoil that.  Even if every other day I received emails- ranging from well meaning to what the fuck- exhorting me to turn to god to be healed, or have I tried this homeopathic remedy?  It’s water, but, y’know.  Or the seminal: DIET AND EXERCISE! FRESH FRUIT! EAT IT! EAT NOTHING BUT! I couldn’t be arsed in the end.

For the record, I think psychics, dowsers, fortune tellers, faith healers, aura readers and their ilk are all either deluded or charlatans. Ghosts don’t exist.  There is no such thing as a soul. Hypnosis is suggestibility.  I think that homeopathy and most alternative medicine is dangerous bullshit.  I want to spit every time I remember that it’s funded by the NHS.  And yes, they do belong under the same branch as psychics, because it is the same principle: it is ego driven (like most professions), it’s unproven and it encourages cyclical, irrational thinking.  I would never stop anybody doing it (I have no right, and I’d hate to have the right, if it helps people, then, it helps), but I would slam my fist into their mouth if they- white, middle class, respectable- started wanking on about the wisdom of the Far East, tradition, herbs and shit that isn’t even widely practised in their native lands but is in richer enclaves of suburbia.  “But it’s traditional!  It’s an ancient remedy!”  Because it’s “traditional”, it doesn’t make it right.  Stoning women who commit adultery (to use a particularly hysterical example) is traditional in more hardline Muslim countries and it doesn’t make it right.

Alternative medicine and homeopathy is fine for the sniffles which would resolve itself anyway, but not in cases like this.  I don’t think the placebo effect is worth funding so extravagantly.  You do get it on the NHS.  Just ask any reassuring GP who has a nice fifteen minute chat with someone who has a bad cold.

But I’m completely fascinated by it all.  It isn’t with the snotty nose holding of a snob.  I’m just childishly hooked on it.  I could spend a happy few weeks reading about nothing other than homeopathy.  I love learning the tricks of psychics.  And I also love reading religious texts (and if you’re interested, which I doubt, I am against the banning of burqas.  It isn’t purely an OMG SYMBOL OF OPPPRESSIONSSSSSS! For many women it’s an expression of their identity).

I am co-owner of a tarot deck.  It was chosen via superstition.  Robert had been messing around with his friend’s tarot deck, and kept repeatedly- seemingly randomly- finding himself with, “The Fool”.  On an afternoon wander into a woo-woo shop, he picked up a deck of tarot cards, and the first card he pulled out was, aye, the Fool.  And even though he doesn’t believe in the Tarot, he bought them anyway.

The tarot deck I have is a beautiful object.  I don’t have it on me at the moment, but I think it’s the Golden Tarot.  Tarot, like horoscopes, are just vagaries that could apply to anybody, at any time.   And even though I know that, my heart still stops for a second when I get this card:


You can make anything fit you if you want to (they’re called Barnum statements, and, since I like mental health, it also has a hand in self diagnosis), and that’s the fun! Playing with Tarot cards is like mental chewing gum.  For example, you can have an online tarot reading here.  I have just asked,

“Is Girl Cat plotting?”


Here’s what I got:

Click for Details The card not shown but at the center of the cross, represents the atmosphere surrounding the central issueJustice: The achievement of balance and inner harmony after a great trial. Agreements, contracts, or treaties concluded justly. Things set to rights. Karma restored. A turn for the better in legal matters.

Well, that all seems good. Balance and harmony, agreement and the restoration of karma sounds like she likes me and doesn’t want me dead.
Click for Details The card at the top of the cross represents your goal, or the best you can achieve without a dramatic change of prioritiesFour of Coins (Power), when reversed: Using your power freely for your own enjoyment and the betterment of others. Coming to grips with progress and using your position to help it along. Finding security and identity someplace other than in the possession of material things. Letting go and encouraging others to find their own path. Being magnanimous and generous with your success.

Okay, so to achieve peace with Girl Cat, I need to maybe share something with her, like, I don’t know, my home and all my possessions, my time, affection and love.

Click for Details The card at the bottom of the cross represents the foundation on which the situation is basedEight of Cups (Indolence), when reversed: The realization that a matter thought to be important was actually of little consequence. Moving on from something in which you had invested great love and devotion. The start of an inner journey to find higher aspects of life. Reflection on what is truly fulfilling in life.

I knew she didn’t love me back.

Click for Details The card at the left of the cross represents a passing influence or something to be releasedThree of Swords (Sorrow): Unsettling news leading to heartbreak or loneliness. Tactless or hurtful words. Acting without consideration for the emotions of others. Betrayal of trust or confidence. The revelation of a painful truth.

The realisation of the above. I have to let go of the pain.

Click for Details The card at the right of the cross represents an approaching influence or something to be embracedJudgement, when reversed: Procrastination and indecision. Disillusionment and the inability bring a matter to conclusion.

Embracing indecision? I already embrace procrastination (hiya!) so, it can’t hurt to embrace indecision, too. Should I kick her onto the street before she kills me and resign her to her fate of being a flea-ridden stole for a tramp? Or, not?

Click for Details The card at the base of the staff represents your role or attitudeFive of Coins (Worry), when reversed: Concern over finance leads to prudent action. Impending physical threat is met with calm and skill. Suffering and loneliness leads to spiritual growth. Stress is met without resorting to excess or the pursuit of oblivion.

Calm and skill, or sticks and a giant dog? Touche, tarot. As for the suffering and loneliness leading to spiritual growth, that’s pure Catholicism talking.  Talking in a slurred Irish accent.

Click for Details The card second from the bottom of the staff represents your environment and the people you are interacting withNine of Cups (Happiness), when reversed: Vanity, conceit, and smugness in romance, friendship, or other relationships. Achieving what you always thought you wanted. Overindulging in food, drink, or the pleasures of the flesh. A state of joy and abundance that is shallow and fleeting.

This is Girl Cat all over. She’s a cat. She is vanity itself. And all she does is eat and get stroked and purr.

Click for Details The card second from the top of the staff represents your hopes, fears, or an unexpected element that will come into playKing of Coins: The essence of earth behaving as air, such as a diamond: A true businessman, with a gift for identifying opportunities and taking advantage of them. A person well informed about the world, skilled in all things physical, and eager to encourage others. A pillar of practicality and dependability, embracing tried and tested methods, and possessing an innate understanding of the material reality. A philanthropist and devotee of both luxury and hard work, whose word is as good as gold.

I have no fucking clue what, “air such as a diamond” means.

Click for Details The card at the top of the staff represents the ultimate outcome should you continue on this courseThe Empress: The essence of femininity and matriarchy. Creativity, productivity, and the foundation of civilization. Initiative and practical actions that promote prosperity, comfort and luxury. Fruitfulness and motherhood.

Me all over, innit.  Look at my rabbits, nice, fluffy, loyal rabbits instead of disloyal, spiky toothed little bastard cats.

I’ve had some good chats when playing with Tarot because where else is something going to make you discuss, “A state of joy and abundance that is shallow and fleeting”?  Even though I usually COUGH if I get a reversal and pretend I don’t notice.

I’ve always loved the fact that the fervert debunker of all things paranormal, “The Amazing Randi”, was a magician. John Edward (the American medium with an Easter Island face), refused to take part in Randi’s $1m Challenge on the grounds that he refused to be tested by, “someone with an adjective for a name”.  Someone, however, did take his $1m challenge, and failed. It was the Baby Mind Reader.

It’s a joyful kick in the bollocks to those who argue that skeptics want to strip the world of wonder.  Some of the most prominent skeptics are renowned magicians- like Penn and Teller.  They used to terrify me when I was younger, because their magic seemed so brutal.  Most people know they’re being tricked when they watch a magic act. It’s part of the fun. The open-mouthed. “How the fu…?” The protesting that you can definitely see a wire. I have no fucking clue how the classic, “woman being sawn in half” trick works.  Even though it is a thorn in my little feminist paw, I still don’t want to know.  I read about everything else, but never about how magic tricks are done.  It’d ruin it.

As for psychics, I’ve always been less accepting of their trickery.

The rational explanation for psychic mediumship is a combination of a few things: the main one is cold reading.  Cold reading is…

a series of techniques used by mentalistsillusionistsfortune tellerspsychicsmediums and other con artists to determine or express details about another person, often in order to convince them that the reader knows much more about a subject than they actually do.[1] Without prior knowledge of a person, a practiced cold reader can still quickly obtain a great deal of information about the subject by analyzing the person’s body languageageclothing or fashion,hairstylegendersexual orientationreligionrace or ethnicity, level of education, manner of speech, place of origin, etc. Cold readers commonly employ high probability guesses about the subject, quickly picking up on signals from their subjects as to whether their guesses are in the right direction or not, and then emphasizing and reinforcing any chance connections the subjects acknowledge while quickly moving on from missed guesses.

If you’re even vaguely skeptical to begin with, once you know about cold reading (and its more contemptible sister, hot reading, which is often responsible for those, “How did he know that?” moments in mediumship), it’s very difficult to take any psychic seriously. It becomes painfully obvious, even with the good ones (the telly ones are obviously subject to favourable editing).

I’ve never had a psychic reading myself, but my mum has.  She’s a great believer in all of this, and I’ve never really had the heart to argue with her.  The furthest I’ve gone is a shaking-head sigh at the, “Crossing Over with John Edward” book propped upon her bedstand.  Apart from the fact that as a good Catholic woman she’s going to burn in hell for this and I’d rather not frighten her, I also don’t really discuss it because it does give her obvious comfort. I’d be a bell end to toss her a book on cold reading then blow her a kiss before I fuck off on my motorbike with James Randi giving her the wanker hand from the sidecar.

She had recorded a session she had with a psychic medium, and played it to my sister and I, as proof that there was something in it.  Without exaggeration, it went something like this,

*crackling tape sound, then a warbly woman’s voice* “I’m getting a man here, an older man”.

Mummy: “Yes….” (At this point, I think she actually went to say a name, hence…)

WW:  “I’m getting a James.  Jimmy? Jim? John?”

M: “Jo…”

WW: “Joe, that’s right”.

M: “Yes! Joe!” (crying already)

WW: “He was your father…”

M: “My husband’s father…”

WW: “Yes, he’s saying he misses you and his son…He loves you both.  He wants you to be happy”.

M: “My husband’s dead”…

WW: “Aw.  Yes, he’s passed on now, it was very quick, wasn’t it?  Very sudden.  He was young, too young.  I’m getting a James…”

Eventually got to P, naming my dad’s brother Patrick, before she hit on Paul (my dad’s name).  There was much jubilation and my mother gasping in disbelief and delight, through tears.

My sister and I sat and listened to this, profoundly disgusted at the exploitation of our mother’s grief, but also completely stunned that, as we gawped, she nodded and wiped tears from her eyes.   Our aunt did likewise.

“Mummy- she’s talking shite, you realise this?  She just listed random names”.

But mummy had sincerely forgotten, even in the same second as she heard it, that this woman had missed on so many occasions.  It was doublethink.  She took from it what she wanted, and what she needed, and disregarded the rest.  Our aunt- a califloured hair woman who could make a nun punch her with her face- immediately turned on us.  Hadn’t we heard?  Wasn’t that proof? She said Paul. She said Joe!

There was absolutely no point in protesting.  Because, “she knew it was real”.  As my mum, I think, more desperately wanted to believe it was.

As fascinating as I find it, as academically as I can understand it (in a Wikipedia PhD kind of way), I think I probably hate psychics as much as I hate alternative practitioners who encourage cancer patients to abandon conventional treatments for their more expensive ones.  I don’t think all psychics are knowingly fraudulent.  I’m *breathes knuckles on self, wipes on shirt* passable at cold reading because I’ve read so much on it and sneakily practiced it in a non psychic way.  It’s sometimes useful.  If I was a bit unwell and was even better at it (and, oh, had never read any of this, and wasn’t being generous with the “passable” up there), I’d probably believe I was psychic.  Some people are just highly intuitive and unknowingly “read” people.  Some people are delusional.  Some people are, in a misguided way, trying to be nice.  Some people are just bored.  But some- I’d say a rather large “some”- are using tactics such as cold reading to deceive, and for personal gain.

If you’re honest about it, then it’s a wonderful trick.  Very good honest psychics (like, and I wish I could think of someone else but my brain has turned to bollocks, Derren Brown) turn it into a spectacle. It’s great, and confusing, and astounding.

But if you’re dishonest, then, y’know, you’re a cunt, and not only a cunt, but you’re a cynical cunt.

As it stands, I think my mum’s belief in psychics has not helped her move on from my dad’s death.  Since his death, her parents have also died, so she has even more grief to cope with, and the psychics have even more money in their coffers.  The last time I saw her she said she’d been reading less of her John Edwards and Colin Fry and Derek Acorah.  (My greatest regret is that I sat behind Derek Acorah at a gig and only modestly irritated him by booting his seat, when I should have launched into a full-on possession of a Liverpudlian ghost into his concrete hair). But I don’t believe her.

*** (It is later)

Anyway, last night, I was basking in the warm glow of the computer screen playing, “The Enemies of Reason” in order to break up my awake day.  I’m not one of the slavish Dawkins followers.  I agree with almost everything he says (which is ANNOYING, because it’s hard to be a vocal atheist now without just sounding like you’re repeating most of what he says, because he kind of articulates everything.  Instead of sounding like an intelligent, questioning person, I end up sounding like a BAAAAAAAAAAH Dawkins devotee), but he often irritates me in the way he says it.  I know someone who says, “Oh my Darwin!” instead of, “Oh my God!”, and, lovely as he is, I want to drive his teeth into his throat. Evangelical atheism is as equally irritating (though, nowhere even near as dangerous) as Evangelical Christianity.  But irritating I can handle, and I get a bit evangelical sometimes.   There is the argument that it takes a lot of intellectual arrogance to profess your atheism, because you can’t 100% know. But I’m 99.9% atheist.  My 0.1% is the little Catholic ten year old clutching her red Gideon bible and reciting bits of the New Testament to anybody who’d listen.  In the same way I only came down quite hardline on pseudoscience after reading so much about it, I only became an atheist during my formative years at a convent school while reading the bible.

I hadn’t seen that part of Enemies of Reason before, and I wanted something to keep my attention, for it is short.  He’s not as hellfire as he is in The Root of All Evil.  He’s focused, transfixed sometimes.  At the end, he eulogises about the majesty of the world.  I’m nodding here.  The world is majestic. It is more majestic, more beautiful, when I think of how it was created. Even thinking of the Periodic Table.  And utterly mindboggling, still.  The thought of how, and- oh fuck- why- is still enough to send me spinning and gasping for breath.  This world. And life!  The thought that- bloody hell- I am this machine built by evolution, with a heart pumping, with waterproof skin and- oh go on Dawkins, say it- obscenely lucky to be alive, in this finite moment, in this blink of time…the things that had to happen for me, and you, to exist.  He looked like he was going to blow up.

Lurching through my Smug Atheism was a bout of Nausea.  The kind of thoughts you get at alone with fractured sleep, that used to be in the dark.  I started panicking.  I wished I believed in god, because I didn’t want to be a brief spark, here, then not here.  That didn’t seem fair… or enough! I want more time!  For everyone! This can’t be it!  It’s meaningless! Fuck you, Dawkins! Fuck your splendor!  We are dust! That’s all! “ARRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

….which was coming from outside my flat.

It was about six in the morning by this point.  The hip-hop and ska nightclub a few doors down had emptied its Rude Boy contents onto the road but was still BSSH BSSH BSSHing.  I, ever nosey, went to the window and pulled back the curtains.  I expected to see a fight.

There were a lot of people crowded around a young man, in a suit. He was lying on the road, next to a car, its bonnet dented.  Some of those milling around were anxiously playing with their phones- one, a cunt who I hope gets hit by a fucking meteorite- was filming it and laughing to himself.

His dad was there.  “What about his mum?” “He ain’t got one!”, shouted back, angrily.

I watched, wondering if I were any better than cunt and a phone, hovering over their heads, pecking greedily at the scene- the approaching ambulance wailing, the dad, wailing.  Some wee rude boy swaying at a police officer, who very nearly gave him the back of his hand.   He slumped off, hands in his pockets.

The young man seemed alright, he was awake, with his head being held up, and was eventually put into the back of an ambulance, which lingered for a while.  The noise died down as people sorted out who was going where, and for what.  And I’m up at my window, with my glasses off, with my head down, saying a prayer.  I didn’t even stop when I realised what I was doing because it made me feel like I was doing, and not just watching.  I managed to stop believing in god but never really abandoned praying.

I hope he was alright.  He’s not in the news, online or elsewhere.   Since the ambulance loitered for so long, I think that’s a good sign.

12 Responses

  1. I read this post previously and agree with you on most points, the others I had simply not thought about before and it was great reading.
    I am an atheist. I read the Shack recently after putting it off for 5 months, think I feared some kind of brainwashing would somehow occur!
    The Shack surprised me, it actually referred to Religion as I understand it as somewhat missing the point about God, I wasn’t expecting that!
    Mind, the only other religious text I’d read was a child’s bible, so perhaps my own ignorance was at fault.
    I didn’t convert me but I gained some insight and am glad I read it. I was looking for something to help me fathom out what was happening
    in my head. I didn’t get the answers but I no longer feel I am a lesser person than one who attends Church of any form. So I am glad.
    I also feel that I have now first-hand experienced that search for answers that followers of religion do (in my assumption).
    I am still of the opinion that if I try hard to be kind, help others who need it and love my family and friends I am doing pretty much what
    those who follow religious ‘rules’ do.
    That’s enough from me, I am struggling to concentrate at the month so I’ll end my musings for now…

  2. Well written! Hope the young man’s ok

  3. First what you call cold reading, I believe on some level EVERYONE has this ability, but some are more gifted with this and handle it much greater…this is how I see BS psychics and prayer. They are all real….if I go into a field full of bulls I’m bound to step in some unforseen shit from a cow/bull or such so I keep on the look out, cause maybe one day I can use it for fuel…..like candy, psychics might get you goin a bit but too much of the stuff is NEVER good for you, no matter what. As for prayer, in my case I’ve often known of certain persons exhorting others by prayer. Sometimes the one that’s been prayed for curses others for their prayers if it’s something they don’t want to hear….at first….by then it can be too late because then they’ve decided to discredit the entire prayer or exhortation, when in act they really don’t have anything to loose and should’ve given it a good try for a minute, not by human reality minute, but a serious try. People are very whinny, sorry, pathetic and pitiful, and even in that state there actually is a group of people in this world that dare to say we are loved by an Incredible existence that could wipe us out with one cough, instead a plan was made to get us to focus on doing our part and working together with the respect for other working parts, and to understand though we might think we can do this on our own…..we really can’t, then no one would be here…..Your vehicle is made of different parts located in various areas, looking quite strange and out of place. some of these parts need to be oiled or have it fueled. I don’t push my beliefs on any one and I’m a believer in an all Truistic Life that set this cosmos up the way He wanted it to be, efficiently dependent upon each other. All will fall and become desolete, hence the dependency for each other. And I agree with you, one SHOULD NOT push another into making them believe in something, but the one with out belief should be careful of how they respect the belief of others when commenting on such matters. No matter what is said and who you are, I know I’m gonna always need you and another to see circumstances and situtations in a different perspective, but I would NEVER be of disrespect to how the feel and believe, because I don'[t know the path in which they have walked in order for their mind to be set that way. I believe in Jesus Christ as Lord of all creation (this includes the cosmos), that’s my rant on bullshit, psychics, prayer, and yes I’m still an active manic depressive person that believes she is born again through Jesus the Christ. No one is perfect, but what gives you peace no matter what you believe is having an open and patient heart to lead with. No charlatry, tricks, bullshit and the likes…just common respect of another……none are right and none are wrong, but you can make it worse with a nasty rebutle.

  4. Wow! That was quite a post … well I guess I’m a sceptic but have seen first hand the benefits of healing work (whether it is placebo or not doesnt matter to me – it works) and I have had several interesting interactions with what is best described as the afterlife which i cannot rationally explain away (one of them a shared experience which sounds like weirdo shit except I tested it to the limit). i am very sceptical of psychics and have visited two in my life, one of whom could not have known what she had known about me (and she gave me very specific information without asking questions or doing the old .. hang on, I have a man here (wait for reaction), oh no its a lady (wait for reaction) bullshit and one who started well but failed. Homeopathy don’t work on me, but works on my pets (which i can’t explain either), aromatherapy works a treat on me but I don’t use it on my animals as it is far too strong. So my jury is still out – I believe that homeopathy works but I am not sure why, I believe that there is some sort of existence after this (but am really hoping it’s not sitting on a bloody cloud with a harp because I’d be bored stupid) and certainly healing work (which I now do, but I hasten to add for no fee or favour) works but as for the rest – who knows!

  5. Fantastic post. You speak the words I feel but would be rather hopeless to voice. I have always been a huge fan of sciences, asking questions and finding out why things work the way they do. Call it an overblown sense of curiosity and a critical nature. I came to learn about the term and movement of skepticism through podcasts about a year ago and I felt like singing for joy. First time I had come across people with the same interests and passions of myself and I quickly loaded up on listening and reading to learn more. I’m very tolerant of others beliefs and don’t at all hate the existence of the un-proven theories or art – I draw the line at when it becomes more than an entertainment or is given higher place than proven scientific knowledge. Complementary Alternative Medicine is my huge bugbear. Being a sufferer of mental illness myself I can admit I bought half the bullshit recommended by peddlers and well-meaning friends in times of desperation. I understand why we become willing to try even the most ridiculous and out-there remedies when life is unbearable and it seems like nothing is helping but it is so very very wrong that this get taken advantage of! The placebo effect does produce slight positives and can lead to mistaken belief in some cure that ultimately brings nothing but money lost and sometimes lives too. It kind of terrifies me listening to others and discovering a distrust of doctors and medical treatments is becoming common. I have nightmares in which a boy gives an absent homework excuse of not “the dog ate my homework” but instead the much seen “BIG PHARMA DID IT”. Paranoia makes people choose unwise options. Sorry I’ve gone rambling away here. In my life I’m open to anything, but always take it with a grain of salt and read the fine print. I go to the sources – that isn’t something CAM stands up well to.

  6. Despite all the medical advances the death rate remains the same, its still one per person.
    As there are so many Chinese people you could be forgiven for thinking that there is something to Chinese medicine.
    Do I believe that I occupy a small blip separating the infinity of the past and the infinity of the future on a tiny planet in a huge solar system in a massive galaxy in a universe without limit and that I only exist because only because of the chance meeting of my parents and my Grand parents going all the way back to singled celled organisms. I believe in something I guess.

  7. hey seaneen i do think that homeopathy does have basis in fact but thats only because most modern medicienes where originally derived from plant form, however saying that its hit and miss i reckon probably safer to stick with modern mediciene

  8. You have a beautiful soul, Seaneen 😉

    Thanks for stopping by my place. For me, following Jesus has very little to do with religion and it annoys me that Jesus has been hijacked by religion, though it’s understandable — he was a rabbi after all, albeit a tad unorthodox!

    Thing is, to me Jesus makes sense; it’s all about love, showing one another mutual respect but not being afraid of straight talking, especially when it comes to hypocrisy … and being prepared to put your life on the line for integrity, though whether or not I would if push came to shove is another matter.

    As for God: I think the Apostle Paul summed it up well when he said, “In him we live and move and have our being” … apart from the ‘him’ bit … to me all the arguments about whether or not God exists are nonsense: God doesn’t exist: we do — thank God for that!

    … I’m also rather taken with Karita’s recent picture of Jesus as a guy you could go out on the piss with: one seriously down to earth deity!

  9. I spit right on alternative medicine being glossed as bottled stars that take the mentals or cancer away like magic, but, shit, I take seroquel for the mind, and acupuncture for the pain. I think they’re both pretty good at what they’re designed to do – but neither one is the cure-all. Co-operation is a lovely thing.

    Being a Taoist and all, I suppose would bang on about the wisdom of the East, but I’m too busy using it to have a nicer life. Hell, I also listen to Frank Sinatra for fun, that’s some dangerous belief system right there.

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  11. […] nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come round. I’ve prayed. I’ve vainfully resurrected my old Catholic self.  Not believing in god, bu… I’ve had a big year; done those, “once in a lifetime” things, like getting […]


    Wanky Wanky Wanky `Fucking Fucking Hell Fucking Shit Fucking Kill Them All. You fucking Know it. Fucking vaginal county wank. Should I leave my fucking name two fucking years of hell you fuckers humans are bastards incite creation of airborne death viruses now normal people. Not you hippy fucking future fucking projections oh well la di da die die die. There, it’s in writing you nosey cunts. Punto basta.


    Should not have been told a God Damn Fucking thing.

    Oh yeah recycle.

    Wake up kill a PSYCHIC today

    Quashed my life.



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