The weird and fucked up world of Dr. Pope
It is clearly a strange world that we live in when in just the short space of a week I can
- be chauffer-driven in a limousine to meet a lottery winner, accompanied by the only teacher who brought Dr. Pope to tears, back in the days when education meant trying to achieve the best marks possible, as opposed to plying the scum of today with a £30 a week EMA bribe to maintain their crack habits.
- feel rather disappointed not to have won £79m on the lottery, which I had earmarked for entering the arms trade, now that there is a gap on the market with Gadaffi supposedly playing ball with the Yanks and the IRA saying for the umpteenth time that they will disarm. Bullshit.
- be witness to the most appalling example of sporting violence I’ve seen in 15 years of attending football matches, a deliberate and malicious stamping on a grounded player’s head by an opponent.
- be caught up in a nasty exchange between drunk white males and Asian youths, with yours truly abandoning all peace-keeping roles when bricks were thrown in my general direction. Now I understand why the United Nations are a bunch of pussies.
- resign from my job citing extreme boredom, career reasons and unhappiness – a good combination for trying to skip some of the mandatory notice period, suckers.
- end up in bed with my ex-girlfriend, who after 11 months of travel and 4 stone lighter, now resembles only twice the size of the average sperm whale (as opposed to five)
Having experienced nostalgia, disappoint and danger in unequal doses, and feeling a little fragile, I briefly turned to the dark side, surrounding myself in pathetic hippie propaganda. Usually I despise nothing more than these so called self-help activities, mostly because it triggers memory of cunting Kris Akabusi going on a PMA in a Lucozade advert. PMA was supposed to stand for ‘positive mental attitude’, although in his case, ‘permanently mincing arsehole’ always seemed more appropriate. However, somewhat rattled by recent events, I turned to a hippy present I was given recently, following my involvement in a television documentary. The gift was ‘Power Thought Cards’ by Louise Hay, and the description on the package of ‘a deck of 64 affirmation cards to help you find your inner strength’ did little to enamour me towards them. However, starved of drugs and alcohol and tied to my workbench, they were my last hope, even if it meant relinquishing my dignity and becoming a tree hugger.
The first card I pulled at random informed me ‘I am flexible and flowing’. Given that the last time I looked in the mirror I was taller than six foot and weighing in at more than 20 stone, I was somewhat taken back at it being revealed that I was in fact a menstruating Romanian gymnast. Surely this had to be some sort of mistake? The explanation on the reverse of the card put said ‘I am open to the new and changing. Every moment presents a wonderful new opportunity to become more of who I am. I flow with life easily and effortlessly.’ Excluding the fact that this in itself was generic, I thought deeply about how this actually applied to me. ‘I am open to the new and changing’ I suppose would refer to my fondness for infants and pubescents. ‘Every moment presents a wonderful new opportunity to become more of who I am’ – well they say there a children born every few seconds, so I would suppose they do present a wonderful opportunity for somebody as perverted as I. ‘I flow with life easily and effortlessly’ – yes, I have to admit it, I can supply Jesus juice on demand and my word does it flow.
Despite my initial reservations, this clearly shows that these cards could provide some direction in my life, though clearly not of a high moral standard. Rather excited thanks to a momentary pause when at least five more kids were born, I delved into the pack to pull another card. ‘I release all fears and doubts’ I was told, which rather reminded me of the lyrics to Diane by Husker Du, where the bloke stabs her senseless. On the reverse it partially explained ‘I am loved and I am safe.’ Well I might be loved but if these damn cards continue to encourage paedophilia and murder then it is safe to say that others may not be.
It got worse. ‘I am deeply fulfilled by all that I do’ just goes to show that not only were these cards encouraging me to do a series of wrong things, but also that I should have a bloody good time while I’m at it. Frankly a little disturbed by all of this, I felt a responsibility to research this Louise Hay a little further to see what other crimes I can blame on her teachings. A quick glance through the biography on her website enlightened me that she had been diagnosed with cancer, but through alternative therapies such as affirmation and psychotherapy she was completely healed of her illness without drugs or surgery. Fuck me I thought, not only have I been told to enjoy fiddling with toddlers and extracting uteri with a carving knife, but I can make a career out of doing so by coming up with the biggest load of crap since the elephant shat freely on Blue Peter. Clearly the Nigerian priest Father Basil Onyia received some similar advice. God bless the Nigerian Church .
A final thought. Sheryl Crow once sang the line ‘if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad’. One wonders if Lance Armstrong has ever used this against her for anal loving.