Before The Nightmare Began Again

*




In the mid-day heat i gave a sigh
Cruisin' through the garden district, i was out of my mind
The star of india's in my hotel room
In a briefcase combination: 3, 2, 1 (which only i know)
And i've just seen my mentor, dr. No
"california sun" is on the radio, let's go

I just wanna reach the radio star
It's a satellite off venus and it ain't too far

I was shooting up in my hotel room
When the phone started ringing - oh no
It was dr. No, he gave the password
He said, 'hey, man, haven't you heard? And i said 'no'
'the world's been invaded by alien life forms
Meet me at the airport, we've got to get out - let's go

I ran to the window and looked out, there were dead people lying all over the streets.
Within two minutes i had all my stuff together.
I jumped in my car and was speeding down the highway past all the deserted cars.
In five minutes i was at the airport but there at the gates i saw what i suppose was one of these 'alien life forms'.
I pulled my bazooka out of its bag in the back of the car and blew it to hell.
As arrange dr. No was waiting for me in the terminal.
We got in his private jet plane and took off, two hours later landing in zaire, where we met up with fu manchu, hannibal lecter, the hooded claw and all the rest of the gang.
We boarded the rocket and soon we were shooting off for the stars and as we approached the space station i looked down and observed the earth, the us air force being annihilated and swarms of nuclear weapons soaring through the stratosphere destroying the earth - and i swear to god i laughed.

Day of the Triffids. Ash.



Some days just defied belief. Everything settled like dust in a musty room. He was caught scuttling between two giant skyscrapers, out in the open, the space in between. He was frightened as all hell. He was equi-distant from any form of shelter; and everything went away, away, as cruelty settled and past days came back to haunt him; the days when he had hocked everything and was grimy to his very soul. Original signatures don't make any difference to the value of the books; the man at the second hand book shop told him. He was sweating and desperate and could only think of one thing, how to get relief. And that required money.

Thus it was that he sold all the books, signed autographed books, that he had been collecting over years; Dirk Bogarde, Anthony Burgess, Joseph Heller. They're all dead now, these authors he had interviewed in his life as a literary journalist. He had had so much gumption, ringing up agents, publicity people, I'm from Australia and I'm here to help; I want to meet famous people, my idols. And so it was that he met all these people in varying states of disrepair, in various circumstances. He missed his old sponsor; the right wing thoughts just kept spilling out.

The curmudgeon inside was thoroughly fed up; all the bludgers out there, soaking up our taxes, layabouts, that old fashioned term, but worse now; they were everywhere. They had grown fat, lazy and comfortable on the billions of dollars being dished out by the Federal Government, ostensibly as an economic stimulus package to avoid recession, read depression. It was cruel; it was the context he couldn't take away. He wanted to go back to the movies; back to a simple life. He wanted to be loved again; yet was too old. They don't queue at the door any more, he said, shrugging it off, struggling to give up the cigarettes as always, captured by the past, imprisoned by the future.

And soit was that he stood there at the counter; handing over his signed copy of Earthly Powers personally autographed by Anthony Burgess; his volumes of Dirk Bogarde's autobiography; also all personally autographed. He handed them over and tried to argue over the price; and the swept kept running down him and he thought he was going to die. Hanging out like a dog was the phrase, and my God there was no way out. The consequences were so unfair. Therapeutic messages kept running through his head. Just for today. Just for today he was going to get plastered, if only the pain would stop.

It was cruel, the pain that had infiltrated into every part of his soul. In later years he might be caught out in the open, transfixed in the glare, stunned on open ground; but not now. He was in hiding. He could feel The Drift, as he always thought of the physical world impinging in upon him, he could feel it threatening the vfery surface of his skin. $120 the lot, the man said, and he did his rapid calculations and it simply wasn't enough; not now, not ever. He argued. He pointed out Joseph Heller's signature; as the author of Catch 22 one of the most famous writers on the planet. The man shrugged indifferently. He could see the sweat on his skin, the man knew he was desperate.

He began to pack them up; it wasn't worth destroying his dreams for $120; the books he had collected studiously for years; carted from one rental house to the other, stored under his mother's house while he was overseas, all those boxes, all those moves. $150, just for you, the man said. He shrugged and gave in and sold them; The Savage God, personally signed by Al Alvarez that day they had walked on Hampstead Heath together, talking, talking, the young man from Australia who thought he was destined to be a great author. Not a great junkie. This sad shivering wreck who stood at the counter pleading with the man to pay him properly; to recognise that a book personally signed by Norman Mailer was actually worth something.

Alright, he said, and turned, sold, them, just like that, and within the hour experienced personal relief; brief personal relief before the nightmare began again.



THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.theage.com.au/national/remains-found-after-crocodile-attack-20090317-904p.html

Human remains have been found in a flooded creek after a crocodile attack on an 11-year-old girl in rural Darwin.

A 10-man search squad discovered the remains yesterday evening after more than 12 hours trawling Black Jungle Swamp.

Superintendent Michael Murphy says the remains will be subject to DNA testing for identification.

The girl had been playing with her seven-year-old sister and two friends, 10 and 12, when she disappeared in the suburb of Lambells Lagoon yesterday afternoon.

Superintendent Murphy says the children told officers they had seen the tail and the mouth of a crocodile splash the surface moments before the girl went under.

AAP

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/03/17/2517890.htm?section=world

The Australian National Council on Drugs says it is concerned that heroin produced in Afghanistan is being tailor-made for Australian drug users.

The council says global heroin production has hit record levels, with more opium being produced in Afghanistan and Burma.

Executive director Gino Vumbaca says he is especially worried about reports of Afghani heroin appearing on Australian streets.

"We're also hearing about Afghanis importing the technology so they can process heroin further to make it more suitable for markets like Australia, the UK and the US," he said.

Mr Vumbaca says complacency could lead to a resurgence in heroin use to the levels encountered earlier this decade.

"Close to three people a day, if not more, were dying as a result from an overdose on heroin," he said.

"We don't want to see those days return.

"What the council is warning, is that before we get to that state where we have the calamity of what we had in 2000, is that the governments need to act now."

Mr Vumbaca says more injecting drug users increases the risk of HIV and hepatitis C infections.

Queensland Police say there is no intelligence to suggest an influx of high quality heroin into the state.

http://www.climatechangefraud.com/content/view/3535/228/

Global Warming Science Report: Tropical Cyclone Activity
Written by Nick Loris, Heritage
Monday, 16 March 2009

Global warming alarmists link every natural disaster to global warming. Most recently, they blamed the Australian wildfires on global warming and, of course, one cannot forget their efforts to connect global warming with Hurricane Katrina. But is this really the case. The short answer is no.

In fact, new findings from Florida State University that global and northern hemisphere tropical cyclone activity is still the lowest in thirty years and will likely continue down that path:

Tropical cyclone (TC) activity worldwide has completely and utterly collapsed during the past 2 to 3 years with TC energy levels sinking to levels not seen since the late 1970s. This should not be a surprise to scientists since the natural variability in climate dominates any detectable or perceived global warming impact when it comes to measuring yearly integrated tropical cyclone activity. With the continuation (persistence) of colder Pacific tropical sea-surface temperatures associated with the effects of La Nina, the upcoming 2009 Atlantic hurricane season should be above average, as we saw in 2008. Nevertheless, since the Atlantic only makes up 10-15% of overall global TC activity each year (climatological average during the past 30 years), continued Northern Hemispheric and global TC inactivity as a whole likely will continue.”

As Heritage Senior Policy Analyst Ben Lieberman writes, natural disasters are just that: natural. They will occur with or without global warming and their frequency or intensity cannot be linked to global warming.