The Matrix

The Matrix movie trilogy is often quoted and referred to these days in relation to the modern world around us and how reality is often not what we think it is. There are a lot of conspiracy theories out there, as well as conspiracy theorists (me included) and they will often ask the question, have you taken the red pill or the blue pill, meaning are you awake to the truth, or are you one of the sheeple who swallows all the lies and propaganda hook line and sinker.

However, I’ve been thinking about The Matrix and in one important way, I’m not sure it means what we all seem to think it means. Neo is “The One”, the saviour, the Jesus figure and he has a small band of true believers assisting him. They are his disciples, if you will.

One of these disciples is actually working against Neo and the rebel cause. He wants to be plugged back into the matrix and be rewarded with a life of ease and riches. He is the Judas figure, taking his bag of silver to betray Neo. The rest of the human rebels display varying degrees of scepticism that Neo is really the saviour they have been waiting for, which probably describes how Jesus was viewed by the majority.

There is the old lady, the Oracle, and I think she represents God, offering advice and guidance, but not actually interfering directly. Or perhaps she could be viewed as Mary, the mother figure, or even a combination of the two.

Then we have Agent Smith, Neo’s nemesis, the representation of evil out to destroy the good guy. If Neo is Jesus, then Smith is the devil. Not only is he out to destroy Neo, he also tries to tempt him. Why do you keep struggling, Mr Anderson, it could all be so easy, he offers, but Neo is not to be swayed in his mission to free humanity and after many trials, including being briefly dead and resurrected, he wins the day, the war is over and the rebels celebrate.

Well, that’s the basic plot of the movie and although it tips its hat to many religious and historical references, it boils down to good versus evil, God versus the Devil.

But, and it’s quite a big but, let’s look at it another way. Apart from stopping the war between the machine overlords and the human rebels, what in fact has Neo accomplished? The rebels are free from further attacks, fine, but are still left living in their bleak underground bases. The earth is still a scorched and blasted wasteland to which they can’t return. The matrix still exists and the majority of humanity are still in their vats of liquid, being used as an energy source against their will, while dreaming their lives away.

In fact, Agent Smith was the one hell bent on destroying the matrix, so doesn’t that actually make him the good guy and not the bad guy we have all been lead to view him as? By making a pact with the machines and destroying Agent Smith, in reality Neo is responsible for preserving the matrix and the domination of mankind by the machines. Great for him, flying about like superman in his sexy black gear, but what has changed for the rest of mankind? Not a thing. They are still enslaved and they are still living in a fake reality - a state of affairs that Neo is guilty of maintaining. Left to his own devices, Smith would have shattered the matrix illusion and with it, the machines' ability to control mankind.

I wonder if the rebels woke up with a hangover the next day and said to themselves, hang on a moment, Neo is actually the machines’ most powerful agent and not our saviour as we believed. We’ve been sold out!

By coincidence, yesterday I saw a video posted on Facebook of a man called Simon Parkes. In it, he was talking about various alien races, which he firmly believes exist, both extra terrestrial and inter-dimensional. I didn’t watch it all because it was quite long and video downloads eat my data allowance like slugs eat your favourite plants, but what I did watch was very interesting.

One of his contentions was that the Earth is actually a prison planet and that humanity is being fed off. I think he said it was by those pesky reptilians. Apparently our emotions are a source of energy to them. Love, anger, hatred, despair, yum, yum, we’re just one big emotional buffet to those green buggers. Remind me to buy a packet of “Lizard-Be-Gone” next time I’m in a hardware shop.

He also stated that mankind has had its DNA tampered with to dumb us down so that we can’t perceive reality as it really is and also to remove our telepathic abilities. He further maintained that when we die, they trap our souls and return them to Earth in another body, memory wiped, so that we can continue to feed them. Don’t, he said, walk towards the light when you pass on, because that is the trap they set for us. If anything, run away from the light as fast as you can and be free of them. Maybe these claims explain past life memories, the wiping process not being a hundred percent perfect, and also the reincarnation beliefs of so many people.

This may all sound like airy fairy nonsense, but I’m not so sure that it is. There are obvious comparisons with The Matrix in that we are all blinded to what is truly real; that we are all in one way or another slaves to the elites and possibly to the alien entities they all work for. And being used as an energy source is one of the main premises of the movie and we all (those of us who have taken the red pill anyway) know how they like to taunt us by showing us the truth in fictional form and having a good laugh when we still don’t get it. It may also explain why our leaders are hell bent on creating constant wars and conflicts, a smorgasbord of misery for the aliens to feast upon. All the dead get recycled anyway, so they can continue emoting all over the shop, so there's not even any wastage.

I have to say, Simon Parkes sounded extremely sane and believable. You may want to look him up on Youtube. Just one note of warning, however, he has the most dreadful comb-over I have seen in a very long time…

Just to end with a small fact about The Matrix. Will Smith was originally offered the role as Neo, but turned it down to instead make his movie “Wild Wild West”. Yep, said no to one of the most popular and critically acclaimed sci-fi movies of all time, to go off and make a complete turkey instead. Obviously took the blue pill, the Muppet.

Lungs Suck

Lungs suck. And they blow. And sometimes, if you don’t remain vigilant, they fill up with water and kill you when you least expect it. Apple bobbing has claimed more unwary victims than people realise. Particularly when the class bully holds your head under while the teacher is outside having a crafty smoke.

 

Lungs don’t even taste good, not unless some sneaky manufacturer hides them inside their pasties, sausages or burgers, disguising their noisome flavour with minced chicken neck and savoury cow’s anus. That’s another Jamie Oliver recipe I won’t be trying again any time soon. The sprinkling of star anise and pinch of saffron didn’t make a bit of difference. As for the squirt of squid ink, bloody waste of time and money that was.

 

Did you know one human lung spread out flat would cover an entire tennis court? I dare say it would make it a bit slippy, though. Don’t see Wimbledon changing over from grass to lung courts in the near future. Not ‘traditional’ enough for those snobs. I mean, they’ve never budged an inch over the all white kit thing, not even for the girl players when they’ve got the painters in.

 

“How much! For six effin’ strawberries and a teaspoon of cream? I don't know about Wombles of Wimbledon, highway robbers is what you are."

Down the Local

Some more of my words turned into a song by Chaz Crane.


http://chascmusic.wordpress.com/2012/11/07/down-the-local/

Cockney Sparrow

About twenty or more years ago, I was walking over to the local supermarket, when I came across a baby sparrow huddled up against a low wall. The flats that the wall belonged to are forty-plus feet high, so though the little mite had survived the fall, there was no possible way its mother could get it back into the nest and a local cat was bound to stumble across it sooner or later.

 

Anyway, touched by its plight, I hurried back upstairs, found a small basket with a lid and returned to the chick. As I tried to pick it up, it squawked and shrieked and spread its wings trying to look bigger and more imposing, which was an impressive display for such a youngster given it wasn’t even two inches big and probably weighed an ounce dripping wet.

So I scooped the tiny sparrow up, with it loudly protesting the entire time, put it in my basket, took it back to my flat and fashioned a home for it. First I cut one side out of a cardboard box and covered it with cling film, then cut a flap in the back to act as a door. Finally, I put a number of cotton wool balls into the small basket, turning it into a surrogate nest, all nice and cosy.

At first, the baby sparrow was rightfully wary of me, but when you’re as hungry as growing birds are and someone keeps bringing you food, it’s not long before trust is gained and given. I fed it oats soaked in milk, small bits of bacon fat (remembering how we used to put the rind out for the birds), crushed up nuts and slivers of dried fruit, all supplied by a pair of tweezers. The diet was pretty much guesswork on my part, but it gobbled down what I provided and seemed to thrive.

After just three or four days, I started leaving the box open and all I had to do was walk into the room, tap the food bowl I was carrying and “Birdy” - as I had so imaginatively called my little friend - would fly across the room, land on the rim of the bowl and open its tiny beak demanding to be fed.

Every evening, when my girlfriend of the time, Allison, came home from work, first thing she would unfailingly do was ask how Birdy was and go and check on her. That’s when an amusing idea came to me in the form of one of those sugar coated mini eggs. Sorting through the bag, I found the most convincingly egg-looking one and just before my other half got home, I placed it on the cotton wool in Birdy’s nest.

I was sitting in the living room when Allison got back that night and as usual she asked how Birdy was and went straight into the bedroom to check. A few seconds passed and then she cried in a voice full of surprise and delight “Tony! Tony!”

“Yes,” I responded, trying to sound innocent, but my voice clearly giving away my barely suppressed laughter. There was a brief pause and she called back, “Nothing…”

When she came from the bedroom, I was grinning from ear to ear. “You bastard,” she said. “I really thought for a moment Birdy had laid an egg.”

“Yes,” I laughed. “She’s only a baby and an egg that size would have split her in half, but you still fell for it.” She replied that she would get me back and sometime later, she did, in the form of a large plastic spider placed half behind a pipe in the bathroom. Being a terrible arachnophobe, I was almost sick from fright, so she did indeed get me back. Good and proper.

It was a shame that my suppressed laughter gave me away, because the next part of my plan - expecting to be called in to take a look at the "egg" - was to amble in, pick it up, pop it into my mouth and crunch it up. I think the look on Allison's face would have been priceless. Just the same, all these years on, my prank still makes me smile when I think about it.

Birdy grew fast and within another week, when she started flying around the room, I realised it was time for her to leave the nest. She was clearly ready and cooped up in my bedroom, I was scared she’d bang into a wall and hurt herself.

Next morning, a nice bright warm day, I took Birdy in her box/cage out onto my balcony. She had only been with me a matter of days, but having been a mum to her and having won her trust, I was sad having to let her go, but knew it was the right thing to do. I opened the front of the box and Birdy hopped out onto the wall. She hopped about a bit, looking out towards the big world she was about to enter, then she turned back around, took a good long look at me like she was saying goodbye, then turned again, spread her wings and flew off like a tiny rocket.

 

I freely admit to shedding a few tears watching her go, but I was also pleased that I'd managed to give Birdy her life back when the little soul I'd found, feisty or not, likely wouldn't have lasted an hour or two out on the street. They say that God looks out for even the smallest fallen sparrow and on this occasion, I guess I was the one sent to do the rescuing.

For many years since then, sparrows had all but disappeared from London. No one seems to know quite why, but they went from a daily part of life, to non-existent. Recently, however, I have started seeing a few about again. I particularly noticed because they have been conspicuous by their absence for so long.

There are actually a breeding pair of sparrows nesting somewhere in the downstairs communal garden. Whenever I see them hopping around foraging, I can’t help but wonder, or even hope, that one or other is a direct descendant from Birdy and that perhaps I had some hand in continuing Birdy's line and in my own small way helped to stop sparrows from vanishing for all time.

Still, a comparatively huge chocolate egg, Allison, really?




 

The Itch

Wedding bells
Nappy smells
Filled with poo and pee
Darling dear
Listen here
This really isn't me

 

Nagging whine
Dinner time
But, and here’s the rub
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m going down the pub

 

Wanting love
Elbow shove
Asked for marriage right
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m too knackered tonight

 

Lovely eyes
Silken thighs
Beauty I can’t bear
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m having an affair

 

Screaming fight
House alight
I think it’s time to go
Darling dear
Listen here
You’ve been so nice to know