I’ve imagined my own death countless times, in countless ways.

I’ve pictured myself passing quietly in a sterile white hospital room, alone, at a very old age, in the dark.

I’ve seen myself collapse in the street, clutching my chest, suddenly and without warning.

I’ve thought about all manner of violent death too, from a horrible car crash, to being brutally beaten senseless by a gang of teenage thugs.

I’ve thought about this a lot, too much, to the point of it being easily labelled a decades’ old obsession.

Its not really death that I fear, its the process of dying and my morbid curiosity at how I will go, whenever that time comes.

Will it be painful?

Will I suffer?

Will I linger?

Will it take long?

Is it going to happen soon?

The roots of my fear of death were planted by my father. He was an older dad, I was the child of a second marriage who came late in his life. He talked about dying all the time and how he just wanted to live long enough to see me and my brother right in the world.

As a child, hearing this mantra of his frequently, I worried about his death a lot. I was close with my father when I was a child, his talk of death scared me and dug deep into my sub-conscious, where it remains to this day.

As it turned out, he lived a pretty long life, but had an unpleasantly long and drawn out death. From his diagnosis to his passing, it took about a year, with his health declining steadily in between. The last couple of months were particularly bad, with his decline ever more steep and his hopes dashed with each treatment option failing. His final days were spent heavily medicated, but he was at home, in his own bed when he drew his last breath.

As deaths go, I’d give it a 6, he loses points for the duration of suffering, but gains some for being able to choose to be at home. Also, he scores well on the life to death ratio, he lived to be 84 and was sick for only a year.

You can’t really do a scorecard for death, each one is unique.

There’s an old joke about a guy who, when asked how he’d like to die, said “when I’m 100 years old I’d like to be shot by a jealous husband”. That sounds like an OK way to go, as long as you’re a sprightly 100.

My mother’s death, unlike my father’s, was relatively quick, happening over about 48 hour period, from becoming ill to slipping quietly away.

Where my mother loses out is in the quality of life stakes, she had a massive stroke about 7 years before, which left her severely impaired.

She couldn’t walk, had a lot of trouble talking too, and her coordination was particularly poor. For the 7 years she survived after the stroke, she was dependent upon help for absolutely everything, like dressing, washing, eating and going to the toilet. Its no way for anyone to live, or rather exist.

When my mother had the stroke and was being treated in the hospital, my father was given a choice of whether or not to put her on life support.

He had been told it was a very bad stroke and her recovery would be problematic and never complete. He was also aware my mother had a living will, which pretty much said, if she was ever in this position, not to take drastic measures to keep her alive if the prognosis for recovery was grim.

My father ignored my mother’s wishes and said yes to the life support. He couldn’t bare to think of life without my her nor could he imagine her not making a full recovery. Nature would have killed my mother off then and there, peacefully, in her sleep, but instead my father chose to use every miracle machine known to modern medicine to sustain my mother’s life.

His mantra to all hospital staff became this: “She walked into this hospital on her own and she’s damn well going to walk back out”.

How wrong he was.

My father could have spared my mother seven years of a horrible existence, but he was selfish. He paid for this decision himself as his life got much harder when my mother was finally allowed to go home after several months in the hospital and a rehab facility.

My mother could only get around in a wheelchair and had several medical appointments a week that my father had to transport her to, unaided. He was in his 80s.

He refused all assistance at first, and not until he was overwhelmed, did he relent and hire some home help.

My father’s own death obsession kicked into overdrive and his new catchphrase became this: “What would happen to my wife if something happened to me?” This thought ran through his head constantly, it kept him up at night, he mentioned it every time he spoke to me. His fear of his own death now had a tangible focus, my mother’s fate.

What you think about can become real, as it wasn’t too long after this that they found a large, malignant and inoperable tumour in his bladder. Thus began his one year decline into death.

The “what to do about my mother” question became intertwined with the “beating this cancer” goal. “If I can just beat this cancer,” thought my father. “then I can continue to care for my wife.” It took him a few months to realise he couldn’t and the part time home help turned into a full time, live in carer for both of them.

When my father died, my mother continued to live in their house, with the live in carer. As it turned out, she would have had enough money to continue living this way, which was what I wanted for her, but her fear helped her decide to move into a care home. It was a good one, but expensive, more expensive than staying in her home, but it was my mother’s choice.

My mother spent the last five plus years of her life in that care home, before slipping into a coma and dying in a hospital bed, alone and unconscious. She should have died many years before, her life was no richer for those last, post-stroke years of hardship and suffering.

We all have to face death in all its varied forms and permutations. Death and dying come in many assorted flavours.

I lost four friends and many more colleagues, who all died while doing what we do, covering the news. I’ve been a journalist for over 20 years and when I was younger and more foolish, put myself in harm’s way too.

I’ve spent time in war zones and other dangerous places and the people I work with still do, every day, to tell you about people and places many people don’t give a shit about. Hey ho.

My four friends who all perished while working abroad, had quick, yet violent deaths. I’m not going get into any great detail here, Three of them were chased by armed men or rebels before being gunned down, one was killed by a stray, unexpected mortar shell. Each death effected me personally and professionally in quite profound ways.

All four of them were relatively young, some left behind partners and children. Each one was a decent, thoughtful and respected colleague and journalist.

One of these deaths was particularly hard on me because I was on duty when the news broke. I was working on a news desk, the central point of contact for everyone in my organisation. A lot of the telephone calls I received were from distraught people all over the world, waking up to the news of the death of a close friend. Many were in tears, many wanted me to tell them that the news got it wrong.

I wish I could have.

When death comes to the young and good, its particularly hard on those left behind, trying to make sense of out it, trying to understand it.

I’ll tell you something right now, there is no sense in any senseless death, there is no understanding. Shit happens, you just deal with it as best you can.

After that spate of deaths, my industry tried to improve on safety. More hostile environment training was brought in, safety advisors in dangerous places are deployed regularly now, but journalists still continue to be killed in the line of duty.

Losing friends makes you think about your own mortality, not that I needed any help.

There are two other friends I lost, both of their deaths remarkably similar.

They were both about the same age, both had similar interests and lifestyles. One was a musician, the other a journalist.

Both of my friends were 50 years old when they died, both had massive heart attacks. One was found in his flat, sitting in his favourite chair, the other was at home with his partner and fell over dead as he got up from the sofa. Both died fairly instantly and may not have had much time to work out what was happening.

Both used viagra and cocaine regularly and drank heavily too. You don’t need to be a doctor to work out that’s a bad combination.

As I get older, my death obsession seems to have more things to fuel it.

People my age (I’m pushing 50) die from all sorts of things, natural and otherwise. I think about my health more often. I don’t actually do much about it, but I think about it…does that count for anything?

I get my cholesterol and glucose checked regularly, along with my blood pressure. All are good, especially my cholesterol, which was 3.1 at my most recent test. I don’t look like I should have low cholesterol, but I do. Go figure.

None of that means I’m immune from whatever’s lurking out there, waiting to pounce on me. I don’t drink at all, but I do smoke, cigarettes and weed. I don’t exercise, I don’t watch my diet and I work only nights. Not exactly the regime you’d pay a thousand quid a day for at a health farm.

If you would pay a grand a day to live my lifestyle, get in touch, I’d be happy to sort you out, as long as you are happy always being high and masturbating several times a day, but not in public, because that’s just gross.

Will it be a heart attack that gets me? My father had one of those.

How about a stroke? My mother’s got that covered.

Cancer? It got most of my aunts and uncles on my mother’s side.

Car accident? I think about it every time I get behind the wheel. Will this be my last journey? Is there a drunk driver or overtired lorry driver out there with with me in his sights?

How about some freak accident, like a plummeting jet engine a’la Donny Darko? A stray bullet from some silly gang related shooting on my north London ghetto street? That could happen too.

Terrorism, viral pandemic, earthquake, tornado, take your pick, the news is full of so many lethal things.

There are so many ways I could die and not knowing how its going to turn out for me is a genuine obsession.

But would I really want to know how I’m going to die?

Wouldn’t it be the ultimate spoiler?

If there was a box I could click online that would reveal the details of my death, would I click it?

Would I really want to know the big three facts about my inevitable death; when? where? how?

Hell, yes! I would definitely click that box. And then I am sure I would regret it.

What would I do if I did knew the details of my death?

I’d try to cheat it, if I could. If I knew a bus was going to hit me on the high street next Friday, I’d damn make sure I was someplace else.

But what if I couldn’t cheat it, some horrible disease or medical catastrophe that couldn’t be avoided. What would I do with that knowledge, that my own body was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off on a certain date?

Would I get my affairs in order, whatever that means?

Would I make a bucket list and try to cram whatever time I had left on doing things I suddenly felt were important?

Or would I just sit quietly, awaiting destiny, safe with the knowledge that my fate was well and truly sealed?

Who knows? I’ll never find out.

There is no real way to know when you’re going to die. Some people do find out the “how” from their doctors, along with a rough timescale, but I think that’s about as close as it gets. In that situation, I’d have no choice but to know.

Whether or not knowing would be helpful, well, who’s to say?

Whatever does get me, is out there somewhere right now, in the world or inside my body. Whether its today, tomorrow, next week, next year or next century is anybody’s guess. Who knows what miracles science might provide in the next decades?

There are two things I’ve always thought would happen to help people cheat death.

One is my view that ageing is simply a genetic disorder that eventually will be corrected with gene therapy. I think they are close to this discovery, isolating what it is in our DNA that makes our bodies age and then figuring out how to manipulate it and switch it off. It may sound like sci-fi, but its not and it will have all sorts of ethical and practical implications for the future of our planet.

Perhaps only the super rich will benefit from this discovery, maybe it will be available to anyone and everyone. Maybe it will be mandatory. Maybe it will be kept a secret.

While not delivering real immortality, it certainly would be a massive step in that direction, as long as you’re not hit by that bus on the high street.

The second scientific innovation that I think will eventually come, will be the ability to import (ingest? upload? scan? pick a verb) the entire contents of a human brain into a computer. Once you can do that, you could effectively recreate a person’s consciousness and construct a virtual world for them to exist inside. As long as you had a sustainable power source, this theoretically could deliver immortality for all.

Imagine being able to continue your existence in a perfect digital world, freed of the constraints of your flesh. For all intensive purposes, this digital world would be as real as our world and your sense of self, your identity, who you are, would be the same too. You would be reunited with your friends, your relatives, your loved ones, to spend eternity together in the most wonderful place imaginable.

That sounds a lot like heaven in the traditional sense, with one key difference. The heaven of our ancestors was an imaginary idea, this heaven I propose would be built by man and could one day really exist.

Do I think I’ll see these innovations in my lifetime? That’s the trillion dollar question.

I think the genetic discovery is not that far off, but its use in practise much further. Its unlikely in my socio-economic class that I will have access to it, if it is in my time.

The digital afterlife is harder to predict, as guessing at the future capabilities of computer equipment and the rate of change is slightly more complex than Moore’s Law would have you believe. Advances in quantum computing are making the news and once the real breakthrough happens, we very well may end up with more affordable computer power than anyone can currently imagine.

The singularity, anyone?

Once the contents of a human brain can be uploaded into a computer of unimaginable power, a multiverse of possibilities awaits. If I can live long enough to see that happen, I will be very lucky indeed.

I don’t hold out much hope.

I’ve always thought these amazing innovations would come the day after I die.

So it goes, as Vonnegut used to say.

That leaves me with a death obsession that won’t be resolved until its my time to shake off this mortal coil.

At least I have a pastime. They say having a hobby adds years to your life.

Let’s start with a big one, admitting to ourselves just how primitive a species we are, even though we have iPods and Microwave Ovens and other modern wonders of technology. We still remain quite primitive and relatively ignorant of so very much regarding the universe and our place in it.

We are extraordinarily primitive, more so than anyone would ever like to think. We are still a tribal race, unable to take a long term or global view of the true nature of our existence or the context.

We still cling to an “us versus them” mentality, we view people like us, living in the same place as more important than others, we foster rivalries and dissent between races and nations, rather than encouraging stronger ties based upon our similarities.

We are all the same, we are all earthlings first and foremost, every individual on this planet should have an equal worth, with the operative word being “should”, because the reality is nothing like that.

We value different people, different races, different classes, different nationalities as all having different and unequal worth in our so called modern society. We remain incredibly selfish when only selflessness will redeem the human race.

Imagine some space aliens arrived, imagine them any way you like, as long as they seem real and somewhat ordinary, because chances are intelligent life in the universe would be both of those things, ordinary and most likely real.

Imagine they didn’t read the fine print in their Travel Guide to the Universe which carried the caveat to our small blue planet, advising against any direct contact when visiting, because of our unevolved and primitive nature. They missed that bit and landed their space craft in the centre of a big city, expecting to be warmly welcomed by the friendly residents of our world.

Imagine the many surprises in store for these space visitors as they discovered our planet was not unified, we still believed we were the only species in the universe, created by an invisible, yet all seeing, all knowing space god, fighting each other for land and oil and religious differences. Oh, how they would laugh and mock us, seeing us as no more than insects scurrying around in the dirt.

They wouldn’t be too far off in their brief assessment of our world.

I keep coming back to the word “primitive”, because it truly applies. Our knowledge of the universe, of our world and ourselves is so blinkered, narrow and incomplete and yet we exist in a giant state of total denial. We have no collective self awareness of this fact and most would scorn me for me suggesting it.

Sometimes the bitter truth hurts.

If we want to have any hope of surviving what lies ahead for us as a species, the starting point needs to be a giant collective realisation of just how immature we are as race, and that we continue to evolve both biologically and socially.

Following that first realisation, must come another big realisation, that our knowledge of universe is minuscule and we know next to nothing about the true nature of matter, space and time.

If we ever did truly understand the true nature of matter, space and time, then most likely we could manipulate all three and make them bend to our will with ease.

We are eons from that point, but that doesn’t make it out of the realm of possibility, it just depends upon how long we last as a species.

I’ll give you an easy example of what I am talking about; the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) in Switzerland, which cost a gazillion dollars (or pounds or euros, or whatever currency you prefer) and is the largest scientific experiment ever constructed, is trying to find an invisible particle which theoretically gives mass to matter.

If that’s gobblygook, I’ll try to explain it, though many of these ideas often feel unexplainable to our tiny, meat computer brains.

Our understanding of subatomic theory is so (and here’s that word again), primitive, that we can’t see what gives mass to matter, because at the microscopic levels we can physically observe, most of the structure of an atom consists of empty space. Scientists theorise that there must be additional, invisible particles that are part of the subatomic architecture which give matter mass. I hope I am getting this right, I am not an actual physicist, but I do play the home game a lot.

To me, this seems like quite fundamental stuff that we are only guessing at, scholarly straws at which we can only merely gently grasp.

We are a long way away from any deep, meaningful understanding of anything big or important.

We still have no idea of the true origin of our universe. Again, we can and do only guess and then only to a point. Most theories start at some incomprehensible singularity that somehow erupted into the Big Bang and many only start one second after the Big Bang happened.

I’m not denying the Big Bang, on the contrary, there is plenty of evidence to support it as a theory, but many theories are incomplete, or depend upon things like cosmic inflation and expanding theory to fill in their quite considerable gaps.

The term “singularity” is thrown around quite a bit in science and yet to me, it seems to mean something that can’t be explained, or understood, so let’s just set it aside and take it as read that it exists and is a point on which we can build speculative theories.

Take Black Holes, which are pretty much theoretical mindfucks anyway.

There is a physical point to a Black Hole that scientists refer to as the singularity, where all that is known about time, space and matter doesn’t apply. Its just an easy way to admit our ignorance in a scholarly way.

The same is true for the theory surrounding the day when our computers become smarter than we are and can autonomously design and construct ever smarter and better machines than themselves. Theorists refer to this as the singularity as well because they don’t know what the impact will be on our world. Unless you’re James Cameron and you can envisage a Skynet like computer deciding we are bad for the planet and seeking to wipe us off the face of the earth.

Wouldn’t it be prudent to better ourselves as a species and a race, so when that day arrives, the machines see us more of a benefit worthy of keeping around and allowing to flourish?

I’m just sayin’…

Perhaps we need to label more things that we don’t get with the word “singularity” and increase its common usage and understanding. For example, when men collectively complain that they don’t understand a woman’s mind, instead of labelling it a mystery, you could say its a singularity.

Or these kids today, they are a total singularity to me. You get the idea.

Let’s take religion. No, seriously, let’s take it somewhere and dump it and leave it in the past, where it belongs.

Religion is a prime example of our primitive nature that we desperately cling to like a comfort blanket. Religion is a primitive way of dealing with singularities, by filling in the blanks in our rudimentary knowledge of the universe by consigning everything we don’t understand to a benevolent/vengeful space god.

Religion is the epitome of our primitiveness, it is the best example of how undeveloped we are, because we still allow it to colour how we treat each other and dictate our moral code.

When we finally transcend religion, as we need to do if we want any hope for a better future for our species, we will need to base our moral code on more humanist ideals.

I try to be a good person, not because I want or hope for a better place in the afterlife, but because being good and doing good is something that matters to me. I care about my fellow man and woman. We all need to find that spirit of kindness in our own hearts, from a genuine belief in the betterment of our world.

What we don’t need to do is base our morality on the fear of a non-existent god who will punish us for our bad deeds.

Murder is wrong, not because it is in the Ten Commandments, but because it is immoral to unjustly take another’s life. We should understand that at an innate level, in our bones we should all know that killing is wrong.

And we do all know that, but we find ever more creative ways to justify killing on an industrial scale, all over the place. We kill with weapons just as much as we kill with our own selfishness and greed. There should be enough of everything to go around for everyone, no one should starve or lack fresh, clean drinking water, yet we all know that is not the case.

We don’t view the world as one big extended family, we highlight our differences, rather than stressing our similarities. Its actually amazing if you think of what we all on this planet have in common, yet you never hear anyone talk about it.

We all want a better world, the differences lie in how we all think we get there.

We need to move to a post-tribal mindset, we need to view things globally, rather than locally.

We need to care more about what’s happening to everyone, not just the people who are exactly like us.

We need to move to a point beyond religion, where science explains as much as it can, while actively pursuing answers to the things that remain unknown.

We need to put individuals first and agree at every level that we are all truly equal on this earth.

We need to act responsibly and think in terms, not of years or decades, but millennia, because if we want to have any hope of surviving, we need to be that forward thinking.

I know I’ve been knocking us for being primitive, but I don’t want to take away any of our already considerable achievements. We’ve worked out some impressive things, but we’ve only really scratched the surface of what there is to be known in the universe. I’m glad I have a microwave oven and flat screen tv, but we can go so much further and at an exponential rate.

I dream of a time in a time in a few thousand years, where we are the masters of all time, space and matter, where all the mysteries of the universe are finally revealed and understood by one and all.

I like to think of the many developments I’ve seen in my short lifespan, and how many more I will see in my remaining years.

I’ve joked before that they will discover the key to eternal youth and longevity the day after I die. But in the back of my mind is the tiny hope that I will find a way to cheat death, even if it is only in machine form, so my consciousness can carry on learning about and observing the human condition. Our best days still lie ahead of us and it drives me nuts that I won’t be here to see it all.

I have and continue to do so, constantly. Sometimes it drives me kind of nuts.

And I don’t mean me, personally. I know how I got here. When a man loves a woman, they do the mummy and daddy dance and nine months later there you are, or a little less than eight months in my case.

No, I’m talking about more than just me, or you or all of us or even our little blue planet, but all of existence, the known universe and beyond.

Not that much of the universe is really known, very little in actual fact. Most of what we think we know about what’s out there in deep space is theory accepted as fact.

Did you know that we only found the first planet outside of our solar system in 1995 and to date, only 407 of them have been identified? Wikipedia knows all.

Don’t you find that surprising, when you’ve probably been taught that the universe is full of billions of planets. Again, theory accepted as fact. Remember, its only 15 years ago since we found that first planet, probably about as long as mobile phones have been in wide usage. That’s not very long at all.

The point is, they are using a theory to map out these planets. They aren’t really mapping them so much as predicting and describing what and where they think they are, based on scientific supposition. They haven’t seen a single one of them through a telescope, because one of such power is yet to exist.

I’m not trying to call any of this into question and one day I expect they will prove they’ve found planets outside of our solar system, but I am using it to illustrate something much more fundamental; our knowledge of existence is infinitesimally small and as a race we remain in our infancy.

If you think the universe was created by some all knowing, all powerful god and you’re ok with that, this piece probably isn’t for you.

I wish it was that simple, to just have faith that a high power put me here for some purpose, but I can’t buy into any of that.

If it works for you, great. may your life always be just as free of complexity and curiosity. I certainly wish mine was sometimes.

But its not, and I try to move beyond my questions by accepting that these answers are unobtainable, by me, by you, by every human being who has ever existed or will exist and asked these questions.

Intellectually I understand that these questions won’t ever be answered to my satisfaction, but I can’t help continuing to crave the answers. Our knowledge and experience is far too limited and our brains far too tiny and useless to come up with any plausible explanations for anything that matters.

Its not fair that we can ask these questions, but are unable to ever know the answers. And that’s my prediction, that for as long as our species exists, people will continue to seek answers that will never, ever come.

Think about that, no matter how many generations follow ours, for however many millennia, we won’t get the answers the most fundamental questions concerning the origins and purpose of all of existence.

Now I am trying to move beyond acceptance of these things I know I won’t know, to an even more basic view: All of existence is utterly pointless.

I’ve believed for a long time that life is pointless, but then I see most things in a bleak and dreary light, so this shouldn’t surprise you. We go about our brief, tiny lives, flitting from here to there like insects, but unlike insects we fill our heads with thoughts of grandiose self-importance.

We think because we build, create, destroy, reproduce, kill and dominate our domain that we’re so important, so worthy of everything we take for granted that we’ve missed just how insignificant we are in the scheme of the universe.

And if it turns out we are the most advanced living creatures in the universe, then what does it say about that universe?

That it is just as insignificant as we are.

The universe is bigger and more diverse than anyone can ever imagine. I don’t think I can come up with a fraction small enough to express how much we know about it, but I can try.

We know this much:

1/100000000000000000000000000000000000000000^{100000000000000000000000000}

Even if you don’t understand fractions, or exponential numbers, I’m sure you can see that is an extremely small number. It a chip off a fleck of dust above zero.

That’s how much we know.

We think we know a lot more.

By choosing to believe in the utter pointlessness of all existence and that any deeper understanding of all that exists is impossible without accepting the unproveable, can be quite liberating.

If we let go of the unknowable, then we can concentrate on the things that matter to us personally. Sure, you still have to play ball with society, pay your taxes, eat your vegetables and brush your teeth, but you’re doing all those things for yourself, without wondering why you’re here.

Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll obsess about this crap forever, utter pointlessness or not.

Switzerland is currently the only country in the world which allows foreigners to visit and partake in a spot of assisted suicide. Go Switzerland!

I say the media was full of bullshit because most outlets concentrated on the issue of whether or not you should show the “moment of death” on television, for fear of “glamourising death”.

WTF?

I haven’t seen the entire documentary, but I have seen some clips and how could showing a man with an absolutely horrible disease ending his life in any way glamourise death? There were no Hollywood films stars or strippers cheering him on, the room he did it in wasn’t kitted out in fur rugs and leather sofas and they didn’t even have a live band.

There was no glamour at all, but then there was absolutely nothing glamourous about it.

Taking your own life is a serious decision, certainly the most serious decision any individual can take and it was clear this poor man deliberated for a very long time before making this final decision.

The debate should not have been about whether or not they should have shown this on television, but why more countries don’t have systems like they do in Switzerland.

Why is it against the law to provide the ultimate relief and end the suffering of another human being? We do it for dogs and cats and horses — do they matter more than people?

There are some rather horrible maladies and afflictions out there which are horrendous and could cause immeasurable suffering and pain to the person affected.

A slow, protracted death is one of my bigger fears, but that fear is exponentially exacerbated by the fact that I know if I wanted to choose to end the suffering, it would not be possible because of our archaic view of euthanasia.

The people most unsurprisingly opposed to euthanasia tend to be religious nuts who believe only god’s will can decide when your life ends.

What a fucking bunch of fucking bullshit. If that’s true, then anyone with a gun is god, because they can choose to end anyone’s life with relative ease.

I have a real problem taking anyone seriously who is deeply religious to the point of it clouding their every thought and opinion, especially when those misguided views increase the suffering and pain of others.

That’s one of religion’s speciality though, causing others to needlessly suffer.

I’ve recently been in touch with a distant relation of mine, who was in charge of dispensing a small stipend to myself and all my cousins following the passing of a beloved aunt of mine.

When she wrote to me, her letter was peppered with all sorts of religious references. I half expected her closing salutation to be “Yours in Christ” and was relieved that it wasn’t.

I had to really reign myself in when I replied to her, by keeping my secular humanist views at bay, though I couldn’t resist wishing her a “happy holidays” in response to her “merry xmas”. Of course, she wrote out the entire word and capitalised it.

I have nothing against my distant relative, the fact is I don’t really know her, having maybe met her twice before the age of 13, but its the way in which religious people think everyone else should be equally religious, and not just that but we should follow their religion, because the other ones, even variations on Christianity, will send you straight to hell.

There is no hell. Hell is other people.

No, hell is being forced to live with a debilitating and terminal condition, needless suffering a long, drawn out death because the law won’t let one be the architect of one’s own fate.

The law is an ass. Or is that asshole?

The idea of my mind, my personality, the internal bits of my brain continuing to function as they do now, while being trapped in my body, wracked with pain, or worse paralysis is a fate worse than death. Compared to any of that, death would be a trip to Disneyland.

And for all you religious nuts out there, let me ask you this: If heaven is so goddamn great, why can’t we let the sick people arrive a little earlier than expected? Surely a just and loving god would welcome them with open arms.

If there were a god, he wouldn’t make us suffer.

If there were a god, he wouldn’t let us die.

If there were a god, there would be no need for heaven, because heaven would be here on earth and we would all already be angels.

If there were a god, he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if someone chose to end their life because of an intolerable existence.

If there were a god, I wouldn’t get to post all of this on the internet and he’d have a stern word or two for me.

There is no god.

Why not be your own god? Why not determine your own fate?

They say you make your own luck and I believe that’s true. I believe in self-actualisation and the power of an individual to overcome obstacles and succeed in anything.

If the obstacle you’re encountering is insurmountable, then the only path to success is retreat.

If you’re dying a horrible death, the only way to minimise death’s victory over you is to limit the amount of time you spend dying.

I thought about this a lot when I was ill last summer, especially when I could hardly walk and spent over a week trying to sleep sitting up on my sofa.

I imagined quite vividly that my condition could have been permanent and degenerative, and what I would do in that situation.

I think you can work out the answer.

It’s over 6 minutes long, but I promise, it’s worth it.

Don’t have 6 minutes? Ok, you can read THIS VERSION in 2 mins, from the NY Times.

Personally, I think this is the first rational explanation I’ve ever heard on the nature of existence and it deserves a much wider audience. Please spread the word!

Now that you’ve read the NY Times article, or watched the video, read the title of this entry again.

Ok, who’s with me?

And there’s always next year! Make sure you write your MP or congressperson and point out this horrible injustice.

Ah-hem.

The real reason I’m here is because the pope clearly must read my blog and he doesn’t like it and he doesn’t like me. Well, matey, the feeling is very mutual.

A while back, I confirmed the existence of my band, “the seven deadly sins” when I announced the upcoming release of my album. It seems the pope didn’t like this move and he’s trying to stifle my creativity by updating the 7 deadly sins for our modern age. I guess god has finally made an appearance in the 21st century and about time!

The new top seven sins according to the pope are as follows:

1) Environmental pollution
2) Genetic manipulation
3) Accumulating excessive wealth
4) Inflicting poverty
5) Drug trafficking and consumption
6) Morally debatable experiments
7) Violation of fundamental rights of human nature

Ok, there’s one on that list that wouldn’t be there, if it weren’t for his hatred of me and that’s number 5…drug consumption. The pope’s getting his revenge on me with that one, but it’s not the only one…

Genetic manipulation! My published work in recombinant DNA research is well known and I only missed out on a Nobel science prize because of some ill conceived public comments I made while drunk on power, fame and 151 proof Bacardi!

And yes, I’ve violated the rights of human nature, for according to the catholic church, that’s an easy one as its their definition of sodomy. Oh and before you think I am some sort of ass bandit, sodomy at its most basic definition includes oral-genital sexual contact. Guilty!

The pope is out to get me! He knows my liberal ideas and secular-humanist values threaten his existence as a silly old white man in a white dress!

But never mind him! What about my band?

The drummer, wrath, doesn’t want to change his stage name to “genetic manipulation” and sloth, who never makes it to rehearsals, would have to start showing up…

I’m sure glad I’m an atheist and I don’t believe in any of this nonsense. I mean, come on, eternal damnation? Give me a fucking break!

Sin is far too much fun, anyway. I don’t see anyone stopping, do you?

As much as I dig being the northlondonhippy and believe me, I do, sometimes I struggle to force myself to sit down in front of my computer to produce high quality, web-based content that both informs and entertains.

In other words, sometimes I just can’t be arsed.

I’ve always got ideas and a running list of a dozen topics which would dazzle the average hippyfan. Of course, you are above average and require a higher standard from this hippy. Don’t worry, I’ll disappoint you all today.

I’m actually in a reasonable mood this week as I took delivery of my fancy new coffee set up. I’ll do a proper post on it in the near future, but I am pleased to report that I am already pulling reasonable shots and producing quite drinkable cappuccinos and lattes.

I’m sure its not helping that my birthday is imminent. I think that’s why January sucks so badly, because right off the back of the stupid holidays comes my dumb birthday.

Getting old sucks. Yes, highly original and thought provoking, wouldn’t you agree?

I don’t really mind getting older, not that I have a choice or would prefer the alternative, but that’s because I don’t look my age. How much longer can people still see me as youthful? I’m forty-fucking-five years old for fucks sake!

My birthday brings out my ageing obsession, but don’t despair, it peaks every year around January and fades into the background soon after that. Then I can move onto other obsessions, like my utter failure at life.

Haha.

I don’t really feel like a failure, but it’s amusing to make jokes about it.

Considering all my faults, its amazing I’ve done as well as I have out of life and I thank Satan every day for doing that deal with me back when I was a teenager. Eternal souls are overrated anyway, or at least that’s what my master, er beastmaster tells me. If only I thought to ask him to make me taller! Being short sucks more than getting old, any day!

That confession shouldn’t be a huge surprise to you, as I’ve said on more than one occasion on this very blog that I’m not an actual hippy.

I’m a genuine capitalist, not like the people who run the country. I believe that market forces should dictate what the market sells; demand should regulate supply. That is one of my biggest arguments for legalising drugs. People want them and the black market steps in where the controlled market fails.

If you’re anti-legalisation, then you’re not a real capitalist and I can’t take you seriously over any economic issue. Are you listening Mr. Brown? And you Tory twats? I hope you all wrote that down!

Genuine hippies don’t believe in survival of the fittest, they believe in a world where we all help one and other. All you have to do is step outside your front door for 30 seconds and you’ll see how unhippy-like the world truly is in that regard. People are cunts and they treat each other like cunts. That, my friends, is a sure thing.

I’m over-generalising, but you get the idea. The more selfish you are, the better your chances of survival are. If you put yourself ahead of everyone else, you’re probably going to come out on top. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule as well.

Think about your boss, or bosses in general. They all tend to share a common belief that they are better than the people working below them. This belief doesn’t come from having the more senior role, I’m sure they all believed they were superior prior to that. If anything, that innate belief in superiority is what got them the job in the first place. But reaching that position of power can come with a price, and the price can be dismissal from a hotshot, high paying gig.

I’m not selfish enough, but then I don’t claim to be the fittest and worthy of survival. I wouldn’t last 2 minutes in the real jungle, I don’t have that killer instinct, much as I pretend I do. I’m too pseudo-philosophical and too much of a pseudo-intellectual to care about anything enough to really fight for it. I’d be chewed up, swallowed down and shat out by a bigger, meaner, scarier animal than me.

And that would be OK. If you believe in the laws of the jungle, then you have to accept your fate. I accept mine every day the good lord above sees fit to let me wake up and endure another day.

Like I believe in “the good lord above”! You didn’t buy that shit, did you? There is no god, there’s only hippies and occasionally, once in a generation, there are hippygods. I am that hippygod and have the business cards to prove it.

Except, I’m not really a hippy. I don’t even own a pair of sandals, never mind love beads.

What are “love beads” anyway? Could a real hippy let me know? Preferrably one that was older than 6 when the 70s started, I was 6 when 1970 started and I just don’t know what they are.

I bet these people know. I mean, the people in THIS REPORT from today’s Independent, which checks up on some former hippies to see if they are still living the dream.

I guess the Indy left me out of that list because they think I am currently a hippy and they probably already know I was 6 when the 60’s ended. It still would have been nice for them to phone me, you know, just to say “hi”.

I know you guys at the Indy are coming here, hanging out, reading my shit. I mention your rag too much for you not too. I don’t mind if you sniff around my nether regions a bit. I kinda like it, actually, but usually I expect a bit of dinner or a drink before I let someone do that sort of thing to me.

Don’t worry, I still dig your Monday-Saturday editions, but you really need to sort those dorks at the IoS out. Their lies, exaggerations and mixed messages on cannabis are ludicrous, hurtful and unhelpful and they should cease immediately. You know it makes sense!

Anything!

I feel the need to amuse, inform and entertain.

I feel the need to make my presence felt on the world wide whaddiyacallit.

There’s only one problem…

I’ve got nothing to say!

Well, that’s not strictly true, I’ve always got something to say.

Who doesn’t? They say opinions are like assholes; everybody’s got one.

Or in my world, I refer to a lot of people as “opinions” and if you think about the previous sentence, you’ll decode the secret message that these particular people never seem to get!

What I really mean is, I don’t have a topic to drone on about this morning. Yes, it is morning, here in north London, right now as I am tapping away on my keyboard, writing this drivel just for you!

And it is just for you, my beloved, loyal and truly adored hippyfans.

As my mother used to say, when she would yell at me for something that she had already yelled at me for; “I’m not yelling just to hear myself. I’m shouting at you!”

Well, it’s the same when I post something. I’m not posting this so I can read it; that’s the intended purpose of my thoughts. No, I am posting this nonsense to be read, appreciated and possibly worshipped slightly.

Ok, not worshipped slightly, but totally and completely, like the true living god that I am.

Ah-hem.

Anyway, that can’t be true, because I can’t be god and “a messiah for the new millennium” at the same time can I? I can surely try!

Double ah-hem, now just leave it, you pseudo-deity.

Actually, it’s cool that I’ve made a god reference; because I had a real creative breakthrough on something I’ve been working on for a very long time. It’s one of those extra little side projects of mine that I mention from time to time and it has nothing to do with my real life job or this blog.

Basically, it’s a novel I’ve had percolating in my head for over ten years and here’s where it gets confusing…it’s my semi-fictionalised autobiography. It’s my life lived right in a lot of ways and very much the same as reality too.

I told you it was confusing! No wonder it’s taken me this long to get my head around it.

Anyway, the breakthrough has to do with the philosophy behind the story and one of the themes that will pervade the narrative.

Ooooooh! Listen to me get all poncey and pseudo-intellectual!

Remember, it’s better to be a pseudo-intellectual than a proper one, because us PI’s have actually touched a girl, smoked a spliff and danced with the devil in the pale moonlight.

Maybe that last bit’s just me.

The theme and philosophy of which I speak is the total rejection of the concept of god and god’s existence to the point of extreme blasphemy.

If I can’t be god, then no one can!

I’ve never believed in god (and the lack of a capital G is infuckingtentional), not even as a child. I can remember questioning the logic of it all at a very early age and thinking that it was as ridiculous as Santa and the Tooth Fairy (again, capitals on purpose, blasphemy ain’t just for xmas, it’s for life!).

I’m not saying you can’t believe in god, if you want to. It’s your choice and I believe in religious freedom, especially the freedom to reject it all.
You can have faith in a “higher power”, if you need to; or perhaps a belief in an order to the universe, if you must.

I might even buy into that one; that there is order to the universe. I just don’t think we will have the slightest clue as to what that order is as the enormity of it as a concept is well beyond the capabilities of the tiny little meat-computers in our head.

So was that last sentence, nearly!

And look, if you do believe in god and you really think that there’s a guy in the sky with a long white beard and a longer white robe, running the show down here, then you must absolutely detest him because of all the pointless grief and suffering his actions cause us every day of our stinking, rotten existence on this hellhole of a planet we call home!

If anything, all the bad, the evil, the shit in this world is proof positive that there is no god. For if there were a god, then bad things wouldn’t happen to good people and pets. For if there were a god and he created us in his image, he sure as shit would treat us all a lot better.

Now, if I were god, life for everyone would be nothing but free beer, weed and blowjobs. You’d all have perfect health and perfect lives and you could have a lie-in every Sunday (or Friday or Saturday, or everyday depending upon your present denomination and level of devotion) because I wouldn’t want to be worshipped in the classic “go to church” sense of the word.

But I’m not god, I’ve never been god and unless my take on the universe is completely wrong, I’ll never be god. And this last sentence is proof I’m not insane either!

If you approach it rationally and logically, there’s only one conclusion that can be reached: God didn’t create man, man created god. And man did a shitty job of it too!

And that’s the undercurrent of my next novel. Bet it will top the bestseller list in the first printing! After all, you will all buy it, won’t you?

In the next couple of weeks, once I wrap up a few other things, I’m going to be dedicating a lot of time to this particular side project. I’m giving myself a very loose six months to complete a first draft of it. Then comes the really hard part…convincing someone it’s good enough to publish.

And if I fail, there’s always the internet. I hear they let you publish any old shit on the web. If they didn’t, then how did this particular hippypost get here?

Sorry for the longer than usual gap in posts. I’d love to blame it on something as exciting as a trip to a desert island, or a drug-induced coma, but sadly the truth is more mundane than that.

My iMac has been in the shop for the last few days, though thanks to my iBook, I’ve still been online.

So if I’ve still been online, why haven’t I posted?

Simple, I’ve been suffering from tech-stress!

In the last 3 weeks, all of my major Apple gadgets have suffered from some sort of problem or issue. They are all resolved now, so my tech-stress levels are returning to normal.

Before anyone thinks this is going to be some sort of anti-Apple tirade, think again. I have nothing but praise for how they have handled my technical troubles.

Firstly, my Black 60gb iPod with video developed an odd problem; when I connected it to my computer, it didn’t show up on the desktop or in iTunes. The iPod itself worked fine for playback, but it wouldn’t synch or charge via the dock connector.

Because my iPod is engraved, the only repair option I had was to use Apple’s collect and return service. All of this was under my original warranty, so it only cost me in time without it, but no dosh at all.

Apple sent UPS to collect the iPod, complete with all the packaging and labels required.

The UPS guy even waited a few minutes while I boxed it up. The next day it was back with the mothership in the Netherlands, the problem was diagnosed and a new one was shipped out from their factory in Shanghai the day after that.

If it weren’t for the recent terror alerts, I would have had the replacement much quicker, but as it turned out, I was without the iPod for 10 days. Not bad.

I’m not sure if the replacement is brand new or reconditioned, but it certainly looks and feels new. I was so impressed with the service I received that I bought the Apple Care plan to cover it for another 2 years. If something else ever goes wrong with it, I know exactly what to expect.

My G5 iMac is around 18 months old and I still love it.

Around a year ago, Apple identified an issue with my model of iMac that involved the Logic Board and power supply and extended the repair period by an additional 2 years on top of their warranty. Last week, I realised my computer was suffering from this known issue.

The fans were running fast, the temp was high and hot and finally, I started getting distorted video and weird crashes. Last Wednesday I took it into my local north London Apple Store.

I had my first ever appointment with a Mac Genius and I was impressed. He checked out my iMac, booked it in for the repairs and even ordered the parts he thought might need replacing. It turns out, it didn’t need everything he sent but better safe than sorry.

On Friday, the online status of my repair said it was complete, but they didn’t phone me. I was really missing it, so today (Monday) I went in to collect it. The repair was finished, but they wanted to clean it before I picked it up, so I wandered around for half an hour and when I returned, it was boxed up and ready to go.

It’s running cooler, the fans are quieter and the video looks great. Also, they did an amazing job of scrubbing it up, it looks as good as it did when it was new…even the keyboard!

So again, Apple came through for me.

Now, my problem with my iBook is the same one affecting 1.8 million other Apple laptop owners, the great Sony battery recall of 2006. Apple was quick to announce this and even though they haven’t had that many reported cases of overheating, they’re replacing all those batteries for free!

As I was using my iBook extensively in the last week, while the iMac was back with the mothership being repaired, I noticed the battery wasn’t holding it’s charge as well as it used to and considered ordering a replacement. Now I don’t need to, as I’ve registered for the recall and should receive a new battery for it in the next month or so.

Again, I’m pleased with the outcome.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s stressful when your essential toys go funny and I’ve been missing my iMac like mad.

I was able to back-up all my important data; the elements of my all new digital lifestyle, before I took it into the shop, but it’s still never easy to part with your computer.

I’m glued to my screen most of the time, when I’m home. If I’m not writing, or surfing the net, I’m using it to waste time with music and video. I’m attached, addicted, whatever you want to call it. I’m glad it’s home, where it belongs.

I want a black MacBook and am going to get one at some point in the not too distant future.

I’ve offered Mrs. Hippy the iBook, which is only a year old and pristine condition and if she passes, I’ll sell it at a decent price. I may already know someone who would grab it, though I would love to see Mrs. H take it. She doesn’t really get my love of all things Apple and I think it would put her on the road to understanding why they are so damn good.

I also hope to be ordering a Mac Mini soon as there’s a refresh expected in the next fortnight, if you believe the rumour sites. I always believe the rumours; life is more fun that way.

The Mac Mini will get connected to my Sony Bravia and stereo and act as my media server. I’ll move all of my iTunes on to it as well as using it to download video from the net. I’ll also be able to receive and record some digital terrestrial channels on it, which will be extra cool because I can export the programmes for playback on my iPod.

And then my 2nd Airport Express, which is currently connected to my stereo, for streaming music from the iMac, will move into the kitchen, to connect to my brand new Logitech mm50 (black) speakers, that I picked up last week. They’re rather wicked and I’m blown away by the sound!

My all-new digital lifestyle just keeps getting better and better and better! And this ends what amounts to a two-handed geek-speak wank that probably put most of you off!

Normal hippy service will resume soon!