Prinz Landrew 'The Befuddled', Formerly/Formally of Tipton. Arse

Random Tiptonite of no Consequence

Shock-breaking news from the Kingdom of Tipton! Prinz Landrew has been stripped of the title/entitlement, Duke of Netherton North, and from now on will simply be addressed as Nonce Landrew. However, he will still retain the epithet, 'The Befuddled' when dining at 'Piazza Slop', Stewpony. This further development came forth following the discovery of a parchment documenting the alleged activities of the ponce, which were deemed unbecoming of his royal status. Read on and savour the events leading up to the fall of Landrew in addition to recent allegations bringing this saga to an incandescent, fiery climax.  

Several years ago, in an interview conducted in full view of the Tipton folk, Landrew faced questions and accusations concerning cavorting with girls barely past maidenhood. During the interrogation, Landrew denied ever meeting with such maids and made clear that a charcoal sketch showing him banging a wench on the cusp of puberty was not a true likeness, and he had no recollection of a famed portrait artist present at the proceedings. When asked about his association with Sir Godfrey 'The Bawdy', he stated he only visited Godfrey at his luxurious Dudley Castle apartments so he could pick up a misplaced cod piece. At the time, Godfrey had been indicted on several counts of: 'Procurring nubile maids, by the wagon full, at the princely sum of 50 groats a cord'. It was pointed out that all 12 meetings with the disgraced Godfrey had occurred whilst Godfrey was hosting one of his infamous 'Fuck /Fests/Feasts Akimbo'. The former prince strenuously denied ever being involved in the Fests, as it was way past his accustomed bedtime. When asked about the sweaty, greasy trail leading to the dungeon room, that allegedly had smelt 'regal', the prince replied that it could not have been him as his sebum-secreting glands had mysteriously vanished at a brothel in Tewkswbury decades before the supposed incident. 

A maiden who had allegedly serviced the young prince petitioned the High Court of the Land for redress. In response/nonce, Landrew declared he had never met the maiden, and to prove his innocence, the dowager queen, Lizbert 'The Ill Advised' decided to pay the impuning/impudent wench the princely sum of 500 groats and a town house on the 'Costa del Sol (Hola!). Recently, a scroll was unearthed documenting the alleged scurrilous behaviour of Landrew and a host of notables/nobles of the land. The king of Tipton, Karl III 'The Lech', was displeased with his brother as it bestirred the proles of the land and made them think more deeply about the role of the monarchy in general. This is particularly resonant with a populace fed up with a bunch of freeloading, untalented, entitled twats bestriding the land as if they own it (Cornwall excluded). Mayhap, the serfs will revolt and rise up in the land. Something had to be done to deflect the helots from scrutinising the royal house further, thus unearthing past and present indiscretions. Woden forbid that the peons find out about the activities of the deceased consort of the dead queen, Prinzz Phil Anderer. 

Not only will Landrew be stripped of his titles, but he will be evicted from his luxury castle accommodation, which he shares with a former flame-haired concubine. His punishment: the former prince will be banished to Portugal, where he will languish in an opulent castle next to a private beach. Here he will wither in disgraced exile with riches beyond count. Such a fitting end for the ex-royal wretch!    

Whence is justice?  

Notus Bene: After reading my nascent post, prior to publishing, my wife beseeched me to remove a sentence involving the poor woman at the centre of this insanity. On reflection, I realised that my dear wife had a point, and I had crossed the fine line between satire and poor taste. There is no doubt that there are occasions when my style transgresses the bounds of common decency. In this instance, removing the offending/offensive sentence does not detract from the thrust of this piece. Sadly, Mrs G found little peace and happiness in this life. If there is an afterlife, which I doubt, she is deserved of ultimate bliss and perhaps justice that she was denied in this life. 

    

Euthyphro Dilemma

Euthyphro Dilemma or Flaxen's Spouting Crap, as Usual

Rarely do I venture into the realm of human morality and ethics. Tis a murky area indeed, and morality systems proposed by so-called advanced nations have an air of fragility and, to my mind, are subject to political expediency.

Consider the following injunction: 'Thou shalt not kill'. A civilised society is supposedly defined by this moral law. Even societies not much above the savage recognise the importance of this universal code for members of the tribe, although its restriction may not apply to those who don't belong. With all that said, Homo Sapiens have an inordinate capacity for violent action. It could be argued that our ability to practise violence on others has been an evolutionary boon and has contributed to our success as a species. Wot no Neanderthals? But what about the genes- they still survive!

A coherent society demands that its citizens go forth and kill others on occasion. Thus, the 'shall not kill' rule becomes void in times of war. A special class of countrymen, 'Warriors', are expected to take the life of, but not necessarily restricted to, the Warriors of the groups deemed 'The Enemy'. At its most fundamental, war is about killing. Killing members of group B is a means utilised by group A to impose its will on group B, and vice versa. We can attempt to civilise war through treaties, mutually agreed restrictions on violence between protagonists and political side steps. Still, ultimately, war is about killing- how can it be otherwise?

The above is my way of introducing the Euthyphro Dilemma. If humans (and by extension, nations) are morally dubious, how do we match up to our supposed deity? Surely, divine morality is sublime, perfect, and a model for us mere mortals to follow. The dilemma with the funny foreign Greek name comes from Plato's dialogue, where Socrates discusses divine morality with a fellow called Euthyphro. What follows is a question from the good Socrates. This question has engaged the best minds (what a bloody waste) over the millennia, and its resolution has proved stubbornly elusive for theists. The question: “Is something good because the gods command it, or do the gods command it because it is good?”. The question is easy to frame, like many profound questions. On first acquaintance, mayhap it is a simple conundrum; however, the implications are intricately bound and raise difficulties concerning morality and the ultimate nature of God. Let's dig a bit deeper.

The question presents a choice between two horns of a dilemma.

Thorny Horn Number 1.

Consider this: If something happens to be good because the gods deem it so, then all morality is due to the gods' decree. Thus, an act of kindness is not 'kind' because the concept of 'kindness' is good in itself, but good because of divine will. The problem arises because, if we accept this view, then morality becomes arbitrary. If god commands that human torture is good, then torture must be good. This, no doubt, will conflict with our internal notion of goodness, unless we are a homicidal maniac. But if we accept god's will as the source of all morality, we must accept this adjudication as good. If so, have we become homicidal maniacs or incredibly pious? If we follow gods edict, then the truth, 'god is good' becomes a tautology and is devoid of informational content. And what does this say about god's ultimate nature, and is this god worthy of serious consideration and worship?*

Horny Thorn Number 2.

It's time to address the second half of Socrates' question. If 'good' is apparent and independent of the divine, then objective morality is manifest and subject to reason and experience. Divine will has no influence on morality. All well and good, and as a consequence, we shall exalt! This view is in line with how we want morality to be. It gives meaning to objective morality and soothes our worried brow. We cannot rely on the deity to provide guidance in the realm of morals and ethics. But not so fast, Flaxen. The thinking theologian (an oxymoron surely) is confronted by a problem, especially if he/she accepts the precepts of Thomas Aquinas, as this solution restricts the Christian notion of god's omnipotence. If morality does not rely on god's power, then god is subject to limits, which limits Divine Sovereignty.  This is a very uncomfortable conclusion for the Christian who ponders beyond simple liturgy and the preacher's insipid sermon on a wet Sunday morning.

Theologians, even the dumb ones, are never short on words and resolving contradictions, at least to their satisfaction; tis their life's work. One approach is to rely on Thomas Aquinas and his use/misuse of Aristotelian metaphysics. Accordingly, moral truths are integral to the natural order created by god. God's evident involvement can be revealed through reason (sic). Simply, we have a meld of god's authority with moral reality. Theology and reality are never a good mix, and even dense Thomist metaphysics are of little use. 

Another route popular with theologians is to note that the nature of god is inherently good. Therefore, god does not randomly impose what is good. As god's character is perfect, it follows that what he commands expresses his immaculately good character. The dilemma is supposedly bypassed by placing morality within god's essence rather than his will. This approach will only appear convincing to the student well drenched in Aristotelian metaphysics; I'm not such a student. Bollocks in, bollocks out.

Most folk do not find theologians' attempts to avoid the moral dilemmas, as previously stated, particularly compelling. Platonic and Aristotelian metaphysics are clearly acting behind the scenes to force and shore up reconciliation between god's perfectitude and the real world. The attempt appears archaic, and dare I say it, silly, as it is based on teachings superseded by modern philosophical systems. Folk, with a modern scientific/technological education, are at a loss to comprehend concepts such as 'essence', including myself. The arguments smack of sophistry and acadaemic cleverness for its own sake. Tis ultimately dependent on Thomist philosophy proposed 800 years ago. A philosophical system discarded by all except Catholic scholars.

To all my readers, this discussion on so-called 'Morals' seems to devolve/dissolve into the void of esoteric nonsense. This is, of course, my unlearned opinion, so take it as you will. A cadre of very clever acadaemics has devoted their careers to considering some of the finer points of what it means to be a moral person. As said in the introduction, I struggle with attempts to formalise a code of morals and ethics. As humans, we all have our own 'morality' based on our cultural milieu, guidance from our parents/elders/teachers and our intuition. Socrates' sharp question on morality's dichotomy is not a dilemma for the atheist. The dilemma is only for devotees of supernatural deities possessing superlative qualities. 

Unrelatedly, my writing has been criticised for using unnecessary ellipsis. I am guilty as charged, me Lord...

* The answer is NO

Darwin II

A tad unfair, as Darwin was too 'ill' to attend the debate

Several months ago, I wrote a post introducing Darwin's revolutionary concept of species change through the mechanism of natural selection. This post set the scene for a future series examining the impact of ideas put forth by learned predecessors on Darwin's well-favoured noggin and theory. Let us not take away Darwin's brilliant insight; however, others before him had made discoveries that influenced Darwin's thought processes, culminating in his remarkable theory. But before launching into a survey of the Great Men who had come before, I would like to briefly examine the impact the publication of 'Origins' had on staid, musty but rocksure British Victorian society, with emphasis on the scientific and theological community.

Darwin was forced to rush the publication of his seminal book, 'The Origin of Species,' against his natural inclination. Darwin had been sitting and ruminating on his theory for years, only to be awoken from his somnolent revery of procrastination by the news that a fellow naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace, had devised a similar evolutionary theory. 

From our modern perspective, it is difficult to understand the impact that Darwin's theory had on Victorian society as a whole and specifically on the scientific and religious establishment. Today, we are the recipients of technological advancements beyond measure. And the improvement continues to accelerate to the extent that new and major innovations are commonplace. In a way, we are inured to the wonderful march of modernisation and expect all at the touch of a button or a swipe of a screen. This is not to say that the 19th century was static in theory and technological development. However, the pace of advancement, though marvellous for its time, was a snail's track compared to those of the 20th and the first 25 years of this century.    

Religion and science have been in conflict in the Western Arena for the past 500 years. Theologians were in no doubt about the challenge the march of scientific thought posed to the carefully constructed edifice of Catholicism. An edifice defined by dogma and infallible doctrinal fiction manufactured after centuries of conclaves, conflicts and blood. And yet it survived for centuries, together with a jewel-encrusted Pope- what would the baby Jesus say? With the rise of Protestantism initiated in the early 16th century, Catholicism had weathered its greatest threat. Catholicism survived, battered, but the Nicene creed and associated Greek philosophy remained. Christianity, however, was no longer unified under one doctrinal banner. Christian thought was now up for grabs, and independently minded men could interpret scripture according to their wit and religious inclination; this, no doubt, assured their position in Hell. The Protestants can go to Hell; Catholics were secure under their carapace of spiritual certainty, and Heaven, punctuated by a stint in Purgatory, was an absolute truth. That said, science posed a threat to Protestantism and Catholicism alike. Unlike religion, science was a process put forth by observation and experimentation. It was not static, but subject to change and improvement. In contrast, religious thought is exact and exacting. It is based on revelation from God and faith. Neither revelation nor faith is a path to knowledge. When did religious thought produce a longer-lasting light bulb?   

Back to Darwin: Following the publication of the 'Origins', the most obvious problem for theologians of the time was that the theory provided a naturalistic explanation for natural complexity. Before Darwin, free thinkers faced the problem of giving a non-divine explanation for the manifest complexity of the natural world. An 18th-century theologian, Paley, neatly summed up the issue in his watch analogy. Consider the following scenario: If, upon wandering a wind-swept abandoned shopping mall in Tipton, you find a stolen watch, you would immediately note its complexity, even if you had never seen such a timepiece (It's Tipton, remember). The intricacy of the mechanism leads you to conclude that this item must have had a maker; in this case, a human artificer. By extrapolation (note: not logic), the complexity of the Natural World is an evident truth. Even the simplest bacterium is a highly sophisticated biological/biochemical machine. How can such intricate complexity arise naturally? Just as a complex machine, a watch, has a maker, Nature, in all its elements, guises and majesty, is surely constructed by the ultimate artificer that many call God. This argument proved highly persuasive, even before Paley's mechanistic exposition. Intuitively, it works, although it fails if confronted by cold, hard logic; but only logicians will be convinced by this argument. Regardless, the theological argument from complexity is highly compelling from a visceral perspective. However, it does not necessarily support the Christian conception of their deity and the associated theological construct and dogma. Darwin's theory of evolution through natural selection provided an elegant naturalistic mechanism for generating complexity from simplicity over vast intervals of time—supernatural intervention was not required.

Darwin's theory immediately impacted the scientific community, and the reception was undeniably and almost universally positive. This apparently simple model, at least on first acquaintance, provided a compelling, and dare I say it, exquisite solution to the ultimate problem. At last, science had closed the last gap available to theology. The Great Question had been resolved, at least to the satisfaction of the scientific community,  and religious folk had nowhere to retreat except to their narrow world of irrationality.  

The initial reaction from the theological community was disbelief. However, once the implication of Darwin's book was fully digested, thoughtful theologians realised the severe challenge evolutionary theory posed to their conception of Divine Providence and miraculous Creation. The situation was grandly reviewed during a series of lectures at Oxford University in June 1860. The focus of the debate was: Evolution versus Creationism. Two individuals dominated the scene: Thomas Huxley (an undergraduate) and Bishop Samuel Wilberforce. Sadly, no transcript of the proceedings was kept, and we have to rely on letters and accounts of the debate from those present. The highlight of the meeting unfolded when the good Bishop, 'Ol Soapy Sam', asked: "If Huxley was descended from an ape from his grandfather or grandmother"? This cheap jibe should not have been part of a serious intellectual debate. However, it was meant to sway the audience through tawdry sentiment and to pander to Victorian sensibilities concerning the superiority of Humankind in comparison to the rest of the 'Animal Kingdom'. Although we don't have the exact words of Huxley's rebuttal, a popular report provides the following: "A man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. If there were an ancestor whom I should feel shame in recalling, it would be a MAN, a man of restless and versatile intellect, who, not content with an success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digresions, and skilled appeals to religious prejudice". What a wonderful reply to the Bishop's cheap shot! In response, a lady in the audience fainted. Please note, this is the only comment I'm prepared to make regarding Darwinian theory's effect on Victorian society. Please do not be disappointed. I have neither the inclination, time, nor space in this post to pontificate further. Take the lady's 'touch of the vapours' as a metaphor for the impact on genteel Victorian mores. Either that, or you can blame it on wearing a bustle in the June heat. Did Huxley utter these exact words? Probably not. Nevertheless, we have other reports of the incident, and the gist of what was said is eloquently represented by the above. The rebuttal was harsh, fair and intellectually compelling/telling. 

Today, with our gift of historical insight, we can easily state that the Evolutionists carried the day. However, contemporary accounts give a more balanced and nuanced view. Apparently, victory was ascribed to the side as decided by the writer's personal prejudice, at the time, generally not by the intellectual weight of the argument.     

Within ten years of the Huxley/Wilburforce debate, Evolutionary Theory had been accepted as mainstream and part of the biological canon. It was a theory that everyone could understand, or so they thought. Even biologists of the time did not fully grasp its mechanism or implications. Even Huxley, the man who doggedly advocated for its acceptance, was a better debater than he was at understanding the underlying theory. But that did not really matter. For Huxley, Evolution was the perfect vehicle for undermining Natural Theology and replacing it with Science.  

Tis enough- I must desist as I'm starting to wibble on akimbo. The following post(s) will concern the notables who inspired Darwin. Nuff said, for now.

Paradise Lost (Again)

Close Enough

On the 23rd September 2025, it had been predicted by Pastor Joshua Mugumbo (sic), a prophet/profit resident of South Africa, that the Rapture would definitely occur. There was no doubt about his prophecy. The 23rd marked the day when the faithful in Christ would be whisked skyward in accordance with Christian lore. On this day, Christians believed that because of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, they would receive atonement for their sins and therefore be cleansed of all venal iniquities. Thus, the true believer would leave behind their earthly, and undoubtedly filthy, vestments/raiments, defy gravity, and ascend to meet their saviour in the clouds.

The 23rd of September marked the 'Feast of Trumpets', a celebration of the Jewish New Year—a clear sign of the Rapture's inception. Folks drenched in obdurate stubbornness (double positive) and pride, and those who do not recognise the sovereignty of the Saviour, will be left behind. Atheists, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jehovah's Witnesses, Gypos akimbo and sundry dark folk will not participate in Jesus' manifest mercy and benevolence. They will be left in the mire and crapulence that defines those who wilfully refused to embrace Jesus' gift of eternal love. There was only one path to eternal bliss, and that was through Jesus. All other religions and beliefs were distractions put forth by Satan to misdirect and to fool the unwary. 

Many believed Pasty Mugumbo, especially in the US. TikTok videos appeared warning of impending doom. True believers began to give up their acquisitions. Cars, money and even houses were given away. What good were these chatels when one had achieved the sublime and was now resident with Jesus in paradise? Folk gathered in groups on the allotted day and waited with joy in their hearts, as on this day they would be embraced in the bosom of the Lord. Some worried that if they stayed inside, they would hit their head on the ceiling as they shot skywards, so they went outside, ensuring there was no potential obstacle preventing vertical egress.

As the allotted day approached, fundamental Christians were driven into a righteous religious fervour. When the 23rd came, they prayed mightily and waited to be taken.

Aftermath: Pastor Joshua Mugumbo was interviewed on the 25th on a Podcast (CENTTWINZ TV). During this time, he droned on about bugger all, casting out verbal diarrhoea in ritual abundance. However, no apology was forthcoming for his failed prophecy. Instead, he doubled down and simply revised the date, a common ploy of all failed Rapture prophets. God's calendar was based on the now-defunct Julian calendar, initiated by the great Julius Caesar. Today, we use the Gregorian calendar. According to Gregorian chronology, there is a 13-day difference between these calendars. Thus, the date of the Rapture has now been revised to the 7th or possibly the 8th of October. This is all very convenient, but there is a flaw in Joshua's cunning plan. When the Rapture fails to manifest on the allotted date, those adherents, still left adhering to primitive bollocks, will be left mightily disconcerted and possibly disconbobulated. There might even be a little gnashing of teeth. I'll get the popcorn.

These Rapture events are occurring at ever-increasing time intervals. I recall the late Harold Camping's prediction of Doomsday and the supposed impending aerial elevation/salvation of the faithful few. *At the time, I penned a verse of doggerel to mark this inauspicious happening. Again, he attracted followers who fervently believed in his brand of insanity. In particular, I remember one fella who was a true believer. He was so sure of the event that he had spent all his savings on billboards proclaiming the coming lofty event/ascent. These large adverts appeared throughout New York, heralding impending doom for those foolhardy enough not to believe. As he stood in Times Square to await the event prophesied to occur at precisely 6pm on 21st May 2021, he clutched his small bible in both hands with a fierce ferocity. The large digital clock in the square revealed the appointed time, and the unbelieving heathens, some in festive garb, who had gathered to partake of the carnival atmosphere, vented a large cheer as if of one voice. Our lone hero looked lost and confused. This was his chance of salvation- now lost. An escape from his miserable mortal existence did not happen. He quietly muttered, "I don't understand". A pitiful low cry hardly discerned through the raucous laughter and derision. As for Mr Camping: He went silent, but not for long... Like all failed prophets, he stated that he had miscalculated and then announced that the true date of the Apocalypse was, in fact, a day in October 2021. Many of Camping's adherents became disillusioned after the May debacle, especially those who had dispensed of their worldly goods, stopped paying rent, and gave up their employment. A few diehards (our lonely hero, mayhap?) stayed on to witness the final death knell of Camping's delusion in October. Camping died a confused and embittered man on the 15th December 2013 at the age of 92.

                                    *You made your predictions quite categorical,

Date and year were virtually undeniable.

Except your pontifications were completely unreliable,

And your followers were left bewildered, high and dryable.                

                         

                         

I am truly confused. How, in this day and age of scientific achievements and wonderments, do we still have folk in supposedly 'sophisticated' Western countries who continue to believe in these silly, primitive, nonsensical beliefs? And let's be honest: When we talk of Western countries, we're talking about the USA. This could not happen in my adopted country of New Zealand. But before I become too smug and enter the realm of intellectual superiority, I must admit that New Zealand has its own brand of insanity, termed 'Maori Science'. But worry not, gentle reader, I will devote a post to this concept in the future.

Fundamental Christianity has had, and still has, a detrimental influence on American politics, education, and science. This is a vast topic, and the controversy concerning the teaching of Evolution in schools has been a century-long battle for it to be accepted universally throughout the US. The fundamental lobby has fought hard, and often deviously, to include the teaching of 'Intelligent Design/ Creation Science' as a viable scientific alternative to evolutionary theory. We see a stain/strain of anti-intellectual poison that seeps throughout certain sectors of American society, resulting in the uncritical acceptance of Biblical babble as alternative truth. Belief in Evolution as a valid scientific theory hovers around 50% of the US population. The rest of the population seems happy to believe that God is the answer. I rest my case, for now. 

As Mad as a Bucket of Frogs in Vinegar. Part Two

Due to circumstances beyond the control of mortal man, this second post concerning my mental health has been a long time coming. I was hoping to put forth this post weeks ago. However, real life intruded, and I was subjected to a series of life events that prevented my mind from concerted application. 

I have now entered a period of mental serenity, and I have achieved temporary respite from the world's ills and the stifling oppression that previously crushed my very soul. 

In my last post, I revealed that I had been diagnosed with ADHD. At the end of my first session with the psychiatrist, he revealed that in addition to ADHD, I suffered from an additional mental malady; apparently, I also have moderate autism. I confess, I was shocked at this supplemental diagnosis. At no time during my existence have I considered autism as a possibility for my manifest neurodivergence. 

I left the good doctor's office mightily confused. That evening, I researched symptoms, signs and the diagnostic criteria associated with autism. First off, the preferred moniker is Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Recently, much research has been directed toward unravelling the mysteries of ASD, and there has been a paradigm shift in the overall comprehension of the condition. No longer is this highly complex and diverse neurological condition(s) understood in terms of the classical model of 'Functional Deficit'. Today, rigid diagnostic labels are no longer applied, and the repertoire and gradation of symptoms uniquely associated with ASD are being recognised. I'm not going to provide an exhaustive list of attributes considered diagnostic. However, I will provide my own individual experience and some of the problems and positive associations I have experienced throughout my life and the coping mechanisms I have applied to ease my troubled mind.

After extensive research, it became clear that in many regards, I am textbook ASD. The irony: Toward the end of my career, I worked on identifying the various genetic markers associated with the condition. Even though I was aware of the diagnostic features of ASD, I failed to make the connection concerning my own mental condition. This failure to 'connect the dots' is a common feature correlated with ASD. Only when it is pointed out by a third party does the link become obvious. Rigidity of thinking is a characteristic of the ASD mind. However, before my diagnosis, I knew I had a tendency to comprehend concepts in terms of 'black and white'. Therefore, I tried hard to inject nuance and subtlety into my thinking where appropriate. This was one of my many coping strategies that I had adopted to combat the perceived negative consequences of my unyielding thought processes. Clearly, insight is not always a sure guide to success.  

ASD individuals often have areas of focus or downright obsessions. This is undoubtedly the case with regard to myself.  My interest in archery borders on insanity. To date, I'm the proud owner of 35 bows of all types, brands and financial outlay. This dedication to the hobby is not normal behaviour. As can be imagined, most archers do not expend this extreme degree of allegiance to their leisure activity. Not only am I blessed with an inordinate amount of archery equipment, but it takes little prompting to bring forth a prolonged monologue on the topic. My poor family are well aware of this proclivity and know when to walk away. This might seem disrespectful, but I barely notice when in the full grip of reverie. This brings me neatly to the next point.

Problems with social interaction and the formation of relationships are well-known features of ASD. This can be crippling for ASD individuals. I have been spared some of the extreme aspects of the condition. Throughout my life, I have acquired very few true friends. I possess only one true friend in New Zealand, and I met him 40 years ago in England. I have lived 25 years in New Zealand and have not made a new friend during that time. This bothers me not a jot. I do not actively seek out interaction with my fellow humans, and I spend a great deal of my day either in my voluminous shed communing with my many bows or ensconced within my study reflecting on the good fortune of voluntary solitude. I do not crave fellowship. On the flip side, when on those rare occasions I am thrust into the social whirl, I do not eschew social interaction. On the contrary, some poor bugger will attract my attention and will be subject to my rather bizarre, and often socially inappropriate sense of humour. Some folk will go with the flow, while others will look perturbed and offer an excuse to be elsewhere. Occasionally, I will bag someone who is too polite to end the interaction. They stand, transfixed, as if by a penetrating, sharp object; looking pained and frightened in equal measure. On rare instances, I have the delight of finding someone who is equally strange. These sublime moments are spent in mutual admiration and intelligent intercourse (the non-messy variety). There are some very odd folk out there, and I do have a talent for ferreting them out.

I have droned on enough, and thusly, this post is at an end. Nuff said. 

.       

 

Mad as a Bucket of Frogs in Vinegar

                                                                 Predictable, Flaxen

I am about to reveal personal information to my readership that is known only to my doctors and close family. I am unknown to all who linger here, and long shall it remain. Please keep it a secret.

Mental health acronyms are everywhere, and everyone has one. PTSD is very much in vogue. In years passed, this was called 'shell shock' and was the sole preserve of those affected by their combat experience. Now, however, the condition has seeped into civilian life and is awarded to those who didn't achieve a merit badge back in the day when they were in High School. I'm being flippant, but I don't want to denigrate the horror, distress and misery mental illness causes. I should know, or know better, as my family has been marred and blighted through the generations.

My mother, at age 21, shoved her head into the gas oven in a serious attempt to end it all. By luck, she was found in time. Back in the 1950s, piped gas was generated from coal and contained significant amounts of carbon monoxide. My poor mother was sectioned and sent to the local Mental Health Facility. I could never determine how long she spent there, as the family considered the matter taboo. My maternal grandmother strenuously denied that we had that 'sort of thing' in the family. The irony: she also experienced a 'mental episode' when young. As regards the incident, all my mother would reveal was that she was subjected to electric shock treatment, which filled her with horror; she raved about the treatment until the day she died. 

The doctors diagnosed my mother as suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and placed her on medication, and she was eventually released into society.

Schizophrenia can be highly debilitating and destroys lives. However, she responded well to the strong meds and father, whilst alive, skillfully managed her delusions and prevented a recurrent episode warranting readmittance; this all changed when he died. 

From an early age, I knew I was 'different' from others my age. My thinking always seemed off-centre, and I was often careless and inattentive. As I aged, odd behaviour and thinking became more apparent. By young adulthood, I realised that I had cognitive blank spots. Certain actions and behaviours that appeared natural and easy to others were extremely difficult for me. Subsequently, I developed coping mechanisms to help ameliorate the symptoms and to hide the problems from my peers and adults. As for why I was neurodivergent, as they say in the modern medical parlance, I ascribed my issues to aberrant genes from my mother. I learned that schizophrenia has a strong genetic component, and many contributing genes are responsible. Exceeding a 'bad gene' threshold results in the condition.  I reasoned that I had received a goodly amount of the aberrant genes, but not enough to present the condition. I was spared true schizophrenia, but I wasn't untouched by the genetic taint. My mind could be in turmoil, with rolling/roiling and cascading thoughts that blazed throughout my brain with chaotic glee. On the plus side, I seemed endowed with a degree of creativity and spontaneity that was denied to most. It is the muse that drives my blog content and provides it with its singular character. My self-diagnosis seemed fair to me, and as I aged, I accepted my idiosyncrasies and the perception of being different with indifference and got about the business of life. 

Coming to modern times, my two grown-up children, male and female, experienced mental health symptoms that developed with age. Eventually, they were both seen by psychiatrists for help. Both had to rely on private treatment, as the public mental health system is but a name, unless you are a juvenile and virtually impossible to access as an adult, as the bar for acceptance is set impossibly high. Unfortunately, this is not a cheap route, and Kiwis with mental health problems are left to wallow in their mental abyss due to cost.  And so it transpires that both of my beautiful children are affected by ADHD and have been prescribed the stimulant Ritalin. The outcome for both my children has been good, and they have attained a degree of peace, calm, and focus. I've noticed my daughter, who was burdened with inactivity and lacked motivation, has since become 'awakened' as if from a dream of lassitude. She now makes jewellery and trinkets and is opening her own business. As for my son, who experienced severe bouts of doubt and mental tumult is now an esteemed professional. Not only does he work full-time, but he also runs two businesses of his own design. One of his enterprises is starting to become lucrative, and he is working toward making the dizzying leap to full-time businessman. I wish him luck in his endeavours and vow to support him in his hard-fought/thought ventures. 

With two children with ADHD, likely, one or both parents are thus affected. The spotlight deservedly fell upon me, and I became concerned that my self-diagnosis (never a good thing) was in error, and so I sought medical counsel. I will not linger on the process, which in my case proved challenging and a long time a coming. Eventually, I was booked to consult with an eminent psychiatrist with a special interest and expertise in ADHD diagnosis and treatment. Like my children, I trod the private road. A toll road well worth the access fee.  

The initial session with the doctor was helpful, informative and deeply revealing. I filled in tests akimbo, and in the final part of the 2.5-hour consultation, I was diagnosed with ADHD. This came as no great surprise. However, the good doctor was not finished with his professional verdict. It transpires that I have a comorbidity. I will not reveal the additional mental issue in this post as it has started to veer into 'too long, won't read' territory. Suffice it to say, it was a shocking revelation to me and for a while, I was thrown into mental turmoil. Perceptive and long-time visitors may be endowed with the powers of psychic divination and thus can discern my cohabiting malady with grace. It was no surprise to my daughter- she knew all this time. Insight was denied to this blogger, and I had to wait nearly 70 years for disclosure.

A second post is warranted and is coming soon.  

 

 

Madame Guillotine

                                        Halifax Gibbet, Looking Mean 

I recently asked one of my readers, 'Would he rather I write about the Guillotine or Hanged, Drawn and Quartered' as a punishment?' To date, he hasn't replied, so I have decided to force the issue- I have powers beyond the ken of mortals. By the power of divination, I have picked (drum roll), the Guillotine.

The Guillotine as a form of capital punishment is forever linked with the French and, notably, the French Revolution. During the 'Reign of Terror' (1793- 1794), it is estimated that over 15,000 folk faced decapitation by this technique. This execution method was not exclusive to the French and was not first introduced during the French Revolution. Read on, gentle reader, and if not entertained, at least be enlightened.

One of the earliest mechanical beheading devices, 'The Halifax Gibbet', saw service from 1286 to 1650, in the sleepy Yorkshire town of Halifax. It was considered a more humane method than manual beheading with an axe. The device consisted of an axe head attached to a weighted block. The block and axe were fitted in grooves in two upright beams of 15 feet in extent. The block was hoisted by rope and pulley until it rested at the top of the beams. The block was secured by a pin which, when released, sent the block and axe hurtling down to sever the miscreant's noggin. This way, about 100 people were sent to paradise, purgatory, hell or oblivion, depending on the viewer's preference. Of the choices, I prefer the latter. In those days, stealing was the most common crime punishable by death. The condemned would remain in custody for three market days. During this time, the poor man was displayed to the public in the stocks as an act of humiliation and to deter others. The Scots were not to be outdone by English ingenuity, and in the 16th to the 18th centuries, 'The Scottish Maiden' in Edinburgh was readied to sever a criminal's head. The construction and execution of the device were similar to the English version, although a mite cruder.   

The German version of the mechanical kopf removal device was first used in the Rhineland in the late 18th century. By 1871, it had become the most common method of execution throughout Germany. Like the English variety, it used an axe head for the butcher's work. It differed from the French array as it was constructed of metal, unlike the Guillotine, which was built of wood. Also, the drop was decidedly short, and to compensate, the axe and block were made to be extremely heavy. Death by fallbeil became very popular during the Nazi regime (1933 - 1945), with nearly 12,000 prisoners executed by this means: rest in pieces, Sophie Scholl.  

Before the execution by machine, decapitation was often carried out by a headsman with an axe or, less commonly, a sword. The ancient Romans used the gladius to send German tribesmen to Valhalla. In the Middle Ages, decapitation was reserved for noble folk as it was considered more humane than hanging, which was the fate of the rabble. King Henry desperately wanted to marry his mistress, but unfortunately, he was married to Anne Bolynn. So trumped charges of infidelity were manufactured. Poor Anne would die because of a passionate whim of an unstable king. However, the king did not want his former beloved wife to suffer and therefore engaged the services of a highly skilled headsman from Calais. The headsman responded to the call and cut through Anne's slender neck with a single swing of a sword as Anne remained kneeling (1536). Not all headsmen exhibited this level of professionalism, and the skill of the headsman varied enormously. Nobles executed during the French Revolution would give the headsman gelt to encourage a clean and efficient cut. Not all beheadings went to plan. Behold, Margaret Pole, whom King Henry executed for political reasons. Her crime of 'Last of the Plantagenets'  was a grievous offence to the king, and surely her head must go. Sadly, the axeman was not up to the task, and several clumsy attempts were necessary before her bonce rolled orwf.

Most folk would like to know whether residual consciousness exists after removing the head. The cut is clean, the brain is undamaged, and oxygen will remain within the structure to support cognitive behaviour.  Without continued oxygen input, it takes several minutes for the brain to die. Imagine the existential horror of knowing that your head has been removed from your body, and you are still able to frame coherent thoughts several minutes after removal. This could be an argument against the humanity of this form of execution. Indeed, a medical doctor, during the French Revolution, tried to determine whether this was the case. My personal opinion: I suspect that loss of consciousness is instantaneous after the cutting of all the blood vessels supplying the brain. What is not considered is the catastrophic loss of blood pressure following head removal. Low blood pressure alone can foster unconsciousness, so imagine the effect after the complete loss of blood pressure in a millisecond. It could be argued that an unconscious dream state might intervene for mayhap a minute or two, but I can't imagine that full consciousness exists after decapitation. The neurons would still fire until the oxygen is exhausted, then true death would intervene. I hypothesise that an internal reverie would happen without awareness of the external world. Perhaps the dark tunnel would be experienced with the bright light at the end, then oblivion. Of course, I could be wrong, and, of course, there is no objective way we could test my musings. Regardless, I'm intensely interested in the opinions of my readership. I await, my mind agape- is there a neurosurgeon in the audience?