Cow Flatulations & Daffodils

Sylvia Shawcross

In a stream of consciousness world there are no paddles for your boat.

There will come a time when you’re sitting in a smoke-filled place from the out of control wildfires, the chicken balls you had for lunch might be crickets in disguise, the cat and the dog both have bird flu, the mosquito that just bit you probably has Oxitek’s Zika, the water you’re drinking is full of chemicals, nuclear threats from the Ukraine cover the media outlets, artificial intelligence thinks you’re stupid, one egg is worth more than the dollar in your pocket, outside the parades of celebration are really testaments to indignation and random murders compete with random heart attacks for worry of the week, you’ve already used up your allotted 15 minute city day trip and you read about how daffodil extract will save the planet from cow flatulation.

(And the scientists who want to block the sun haven’t checked with the ones who are making solar panels. I don’t think they like each other.)

At this point the collosal absurdity of it all sweeps into a foolish grin on your face. You have now been terrorized and educated to the point of nothing matters. And you eat and you drink and you be merry. I think that’s how it goes.

This way you stop all pretence at rebellion and settle into dumb benevolent stupification stultification waiting for Armageddon. Except of course, Armageddon never does come. Just more absurd headlines, most of which involve government and banal distractions of one form or another. And what do you do then?

You make a cup of tea and watch the way the ant carries a twiggish thing across the boards of the deck and wonder if it has a soul or is its soul part of the collective anthill. And are we souls ants in an anthill and if we are, then who might we ask is the Queen Ant? Or is there a queen ant? I think there is, or am I thinking of bees?

It doesn’t matter. The anthill and the hive got built by the collective ants but the little house nest built by the praying mantis is a singular objective. They both serve their purpose. And I doubt they believe in God so they have no souls per se. Perhaps they are just a manifestation of Godliness. Or an infestation waiting for the Devil.. to begin swarming. At this point why would we care? Our only job is to come to terms with the fact that underneath the mammoth absurdity there is a reality that does matter and to find it requires brave souls and sound minds. Both of which are in short supply. Now.

And so, it is important when you see a sane mind on a platform to make sure you clap and donate and support and advertise and generally give them everything you have to give. They are diamonds among swine these days.

However, speaking of mammoths. The absolutely only reason I’m hanging on here at all is the fact that they will one day recreate the woolly mammoth. I have always wanted to see a live woolly mammoth. Truth is, I’ll settle for any dinosaur because it is the only thing I want science to do for us all. It is really the only worthwhile thing science can offer us now. Everything else is just annoying and/or frightening. But watching a wooly mammoth frolic or a pterodactyl swoop…now that would be awe-some.

But of course they’re not going that way are they? They are promoting UFOs and aliens. All their resources are being mostly directed to war and aliens. They’re probably going to project that bluebell bluebeam thingie into the sky for the masses either for aliens or the Second Coming. I wouldn’t put it past them.

I think it will be aliens myself. But aliens are simply boring.

Little green men or giant triffids or Borgs. Ach… who cares. They’re either boring or terrifying and just another distraction in a world that has had so many distractions that we can’t remember what the original thing was that we were supposed to be distracted from. I suspect its death. All of it is a distraction from dying which apparently we all do. Everything, I mean everything, is about not dying. Everything. And the western world is very bad at understanding that. I suppose that is our biggest crime. To the rest of the world even. But never mind all that.

The point is, if only the Dutch grew daffodils instead of tulips then maybe they would still have their land and their cows. This is a deeply sad thing to think about which is really what Science has done for us. It does things and then we feel sad somewhere down the line for not knowing then what we know now and all that. We invented nuclear fusion and look where we are now.

This means we need to be highly suspect of any and every bit of new science because these scientists are entirely mad.

Mad as in insane. Selfish to the point of curiosity being solely self-gratifying. They do everything simply to see what happens. Like the Hadron collider. Or mRNA vaccines. Or blocking out the sun. Or… It never really works out. But it keeps them busy fixing what they broke which might be the entire purpose of it all. It could be said they never learn but they do. That’s the scary part. They learn how to mess things up on even greater levels.

They want to block the sun now. Just think about that. I suppose this is better than that other wild theory I had heard somewhere that they are encouraging global nuclear war in order to bring on nuclear winter to cool the planet. Yeah… let’s go with the sun thing over that one.

When I think about blocking the sun I think of Egypt and the Sun God. I don’t know why. Down in the cool beige tunnel tombs the Egyptians drew stories on their walls and dreamed of their gods in colours. The slaves ate onions and drank beer and dripped sweat and sometimes laughed and sometimes cried. I don’t think they wanted to create nuclear fusion even if they could have dreamed of it.

So why do we have to put up with this tyranny of science now? They don’t even feed us beer and onions. So then, just drink your tea and be quiet. That’s all there is today. Being Sunday and all that. It is the day of the Sun.

Earworm for the stream of nonsense kind of day:

Sylvia Shawcross lives in Canada. Visit her substack.