the last sentence of bruce hoods book gave me a smile. he concludes his work with the statement about humanity being a sacred species. that at east offers some sense of conclusion. science is just the same as any religion, it requires faith based upon certain fundamental laws or 'truths' or principles. and these principles are unreconciled at the moment, they are not 100% fact, they are almost. when one applies the principles to other dimensions they fail. the truth is the universe is subjective, it's closest analogy is it's a hologram.
now how supernatural is that, yet it's based upon good science. the idea that the universe is a holographic representation is as bizarre as anything supernatural in bruce's book. i think arther c clarke nails it in his three laws

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

i noticed a comment in bruces blog aimed at my views. it's author uses a bullshit detector to derail my thoughts. yet he falls right into the trap that i state, which is science is in danger of becoming a religion. his fundamental idea is that this idea is bullshit, yet he does not identify that i start my statement with the words, 'i think', or 'i fear.'
the very horrific fact is some people cling to science as a fundamental truth as much as any religion and they all want to drag everyone into their perspectives.
the consensus reality is the one we make, just because i think something different does not mean it's wrong it just does not subscribe to the consensus but i would never try to force my values upon anyone else as long as they respect mine.

i received a long awaited letter from an old friend martin von donaldson in berlin, he was writing to tell me he had heard 'adventures' and really liked it but that the songs were to long.
i concur although at the time it seemed reasonable.
it was good to read his letter, hand written from another time. old martin does not even have an e mail address so it's hard to keep in contact. i occasionally write to him but rarely do i hear back.

on a sad note vale loius' father.
i never met him but can tell loius has a lot of respect for his dad.
it's awkward to know how to respond to some ones death, so many things to consider. i want to empathize with the loss but also share enthusiasm for the transition. either way if i say to much i would offend some one. plus i don't really know how to deal with the fact my father will die at some point in time. it's an awful thing that no one is really prepared for yet it's natural. all i know is death is not the end.

bruce hoods book continues to stimulate and he describes death in this wonderfully scientific way describing it as a continuous stage of life as energy converts but all the way through never acknowledging the idea that there is purpose to this law of physics.
later in the book he describes the way the tibetan monks choose the next dali lama, letting the child choose items that the old dali lama treasured, he describes an experiment where children are asked about a cardigan worn by a well loved and respected tv personality who was an all round good guy, however i think the experiment would have been more conclusive if they had been asked to choose between fred wests cardigan and this saintly tv figure. this would show if children are able to 'feel' the energy from the good or evil cardigan. they would have to be authentic though, although i guess as a control one could use fakes. either way i'm still impressed by the book although a bit confused by what exactly the super-sense is. to me consciousness is a collection of sensory and super sensory input, instinct and intuition are all part of the same thing. information that we process using our minds and brains. sure some people use belief indiscriminately to the point of stupidity. but that's the difference between a meme and a spiritual connection. the meme demands expansion, the spiritual idea is quite content to just be.

down on the street i'm involved in a chat with some knowledgeable sorts who seem to be under the impression that objects possess a soul. considered this over a cup of tea and i conclude i cannot prescribe to this idea. i guess firstly one needs to define what is meant by a soul, to which i was told as soon as you ask the question you are a step away from defining it. but language is the only tool available so i continue to ponder the question what is a soul.

i came up with the notion that the soul is the part of the living organism that has intent that is not attached to the material world. therefore when one feeds the soul by looking at a sunset it is not looking at a physical object interacting with another but an aesthetic sequence that is indefinable in beauty as the soul is in words. the reason it is indefinable is because once it is reduced to physics it has lost its beauty. therefore the sunset is not just physics.

anyways it's by the by, who really knows what's what in this old world, i don't, i'm just clutching at straws like everyone else, attempting to speculate upon things with my tiny brain and limited knowledge. often i come back to the fact existence is excession. no more can the ant ponder the spiral arm of the galaxy can we ponder the meaning behind the universe. our brains won't let us unless we put them together along with our minds. somewhere i read that our minds are in fact one mind. how cool is that, you who read these pages are in fact sharing my mind and i yours, like water in the mind exists in several states yet it is all part of the same thing.

halfway through super sense by bruce hood and it's freaking me out slightly. the guys is a rationalist and firmly presents good evidence as to how the brain is hardwired to look for patterns and meaning in random events. it's a persuasive argument and presented in a lucid easy way however i feel mr. hood needs to really get out of his mind on some psychedelics before commenting on reality further. the brain he talks about is the one that filters information, it's the standard brain hardware version that most humans are born with the one that the central nervous system filters as information flows in. when the psychic center is opened reality changes as does ones perception of it. and it is here where the weird shit occurs. i'm enjoying the science in the book but it's based on a very standard version of supernatural ideas. once your brain has an ayahscia experience the idea of super nature appears straightforwards.
another thing i dislike about the book is he does not differentiate between super nature and the supernatural. for example he talks about how people would not want to handle a fred wests cardigan for fear of what it represented or some evil inherently within the item. this has nothing to do with nature and more to do with superstition or fear. if the constructs of the mind are dismantled the idea of inherent evil is pointless.
nor is the idea that evolution can't exist hand in hand with intelligent design. why can't the designer use evolution?

apart from these issues supersense is a very interesting read, well written and well worth reading.

this morning i awoke to a martian atmosphere, yes indeed i was on the red planet. despite it being incredibly warm and windy a massive dust cloud had descended upon all of sydney and engulfed us in its atmosphere. it was quite surreal and ironically at the same time the UN were discussing climate change in NYC. i think they had some nice champagne and told lies to one another like most political animals. they probably throw the press a few soundbytes and pose for a photo opportunity, appearing concerned while watching the neon from the back seats of stretch limos. its a strange day on planet earth.

well here i am back in sydney after a wonderful adventure in the bush, yes capt. mission and the great god pan went to st. albans where we camped out under the stars. i'm not a camping kinda guy, the whole idea is kinda alien to me being a city man but after all my babbling on about constructed reality i figured i should get a big dose of the natural world and the people that inhabit it. nature is perfect. after a decent meal and the best rhubarb crumble ever in the old stone pub i lay out on the sand down by the creek bed and looked at the massive expanse of stars. after star gazing for a few hours i fell asleep and in the morning awoke to find the mist rolling in across the meadows and valleys, such beauty. the birds started making a racket and i figured it was time to head back home, down the old dirt road, across the river on the wise mans ferry, down the winding road past the george onto the highway home, and without stopping for much straight to the city where i saw V in concert. although slightly nervous he played a great set of incredible songs, yeah there were moments where it he forgot the words but no one noticed and i think it was a great night. performance is not my thing either, i'm not looking forwards to playing these songs out there in front of people but i need to sell some cds and this is how you do it.
i've written the first song to snuff music and struggling with the second, its a different process this time as i'm actually using my brain and the songs are not flowing through me from some where else, these songs are well thought out and involve a certain planning, the words are carefully written, not stream of conscious yet at the back of my mind it's all from the same source and all the same process, i'm just aware of it more. i like snuff one, it's my fave song i've written, and it's really an opportunity to do what i enjoy most which is write words.

okay while i don't agree with mr robertson on some things i have a lot of respect for his view and i think generally he is a very switched on guy. here is the only opinion that was written during this period that categorically takes a stance against scotland's move. lybia headed the un human rights councils and still contributes along with several other dictator state especially if it means the un get to put the boot in to israel, which they do every chance they get. what is remarkable is the last comment below. it indicates why the left wing are so fucked up. and so popular. because people generally are trapped in moronic political moral mazes that cannot distinguish a good move from a bad one.


'Compassion' for a mass killer is a coup for Libya's dictator
GEOFFREY ROBERTSON
September 12, 2009 Comments 6
Colonel Muammar Gaddafi may be the worst man left in the world but last week many heads of state visited Libya to pay tribute to his 40 years of vicious dictatorship. On September 23 he pitches tent in New York to address a United Nations session chaired by Barack Obama.

His victories continue: the Swiss Government has made a grovelling apology for daring to detain one of his sons for brutally assaulting servants. His finest coup, other than that which brought him to power, has been to celebrate the Lockerbie atrocity by welcoming home from a Scottish prison the man who committed it - undoubtedly, at Gaddafi's instigation.

By what perverse process has the godfather of modern terrorism been allowed such a triumph?

At one level, the low parochial level of a Scotland recently "devolved" so it can administer its own criminal laws, Gaddafi's triumph may be put down to human error and indeed to human stupidity.

Al-Megrahi was convicted of the cold-blooded mass murder of 270 innocents on Pan Am 103. Eight years into his sentence he began a fresh appeal, and contracted prostate cancer. He made an application for bail so he could live under "house arrest" in Scotland while preparing his appeal but this application was rejected by the Scottish appeal court last November. It pointed out his condition was "very unpredictable" and "his life expectancy may be in years". A few months later an egregious politician intervened. The Scottish Secretary for Justice, Kenny MacAskill, an undistinguished lawyer, freed al-Megrahi in the name of "compassion", a virtue he claimed to be specially embedded in Scottish law.

There is a place for mercy in every justice system. Primitive countries offer arbitrary pardons to celebrate the ruler's birthday but more advanced systems require "compassion" to be rationally related to the mental state of the particular offender. It is extended either because he can be forgiven or because he is genuinely to be pitied.

Al-Megrahi, as an unrepentant and cold-blooded mass-murderer, is unforgivable. The notion he could be pitied, allowed to end his days in Libya as a national hero, was ridiculous. The pardon bestowed by MacAskill was not, in law or in logic, an act of compassion. It showed kindness to nobody and rewarded the wrongdoer.

The Justice Secretary visited the killer in prison (he did not visit relatives of his victims) and relied upon a promise from Libya that his reception there would be low-key. What sensible minister would believe the promise of an unpredictable terrorist regime? He acted with unseemly haste, making his decision less than four weeks after Libya's application. It must have been blindingly obvious that the release of Megrahi would coincide with Gaddafi's 40th-anniversary celebrations, and be hailed a triumph. It must have been equally obvious it would be an act of cruelty to all those who have suffered from Libya's terrorist crimes.

The decision was supported by a few soft-hearted and soft-headed Edinburgh clerics, entranced by the idea that it reflected forgiveness. But Bishop Joseph Butler warned against hasty and uncritical compassion, irresponsible because it compromised important Christian values such as self-respect and respect for the moral order.

MacAskill's "compassion" was irresponsible because he bestowed it on an unrepentant perpetrator of what Immanuel Kant termed "radical evil," at a time and in a way that enables him to be honoured as a national hero.

The Scottish Parliament desperately attempted to regain its reputation by condemning MacAskill's decision. But the damage has been done, especially to the worldwide campaign to abolish the death penalty for international crimes. This relies upon the validity of assurances genocidaires and torturers and terrorists will never be released. Now, such assurances cannot credibly be given because MacAskill's action so vividly illustrates the risk that, within a few years, politicians will breach them.

Was this simply an irresponsible decision by parish-pump Scottish politicians, or was the British Government really pulling their strings? There had been long-running negotiations between British ministers and Gaddafi and his son, Saif, over trade, in particular British Petroleum's access to untapped Libyan oil deposits. Al-Megrahi's release was always, as Saif admitted, "on the table", so there was suspicion it may have become the quid pro quo for the success of BP's contract bid.

If the British Government really had been orchestrating the release behind the scenes, using the Scottish National Party as cut-outs, this would have been an astounding breach of faith, since, in 1999, the then foreign secretary, Robin Cook, promised Madeleine Albright that al-Megrahi would serve his full term (27 years) in custody in Scotland.

The stakes must be extremely high before Britain will defy the US. The Labour Government shows inordinate servility. It has, for example, accepted a bullying US extradition request to put a Scotsman suffering Asperger's syndrome in prison for up to 60 years for hacking into Pentagon networks (he was searching for evidence of UFOs and left a message "Your security is crap"). No decent person in Britain believes he should be extradited and the Government has made itself extremely unpopular by insisting American wishes are its command.

Would the British Government really incur US displeasure to help British Petroleum to 590 million barrels of crude oil?

Up to a point. After a week's astonishing silence it emerged Gaddafi and son were assured, during trade talks, that although it was a matter for the local Scots, the British Prime Minister did not want him to die in prison. This wink seems to have secured the Libyan nod, and the trade deal went ahead.

The Foreign Office, always anxious that commercial interests should prevail over ethical concerns, was well aware Gaddafi was consumed with guilt over his decision to send al-Megrahi to trial, a sacrifice necessary 10 years ago for the lifting of UN sanctions crippling the country, and dangling even a possibility of al-Megrahi's release would sweeten the deal.

The British Government walked a verbal tightrope, telling the White House al-Megrahi would die in prison while secretly assuring the Libyans it did not want him to. Then, when he contracted prostate cancer, it tipped the wink to the Scots there was no national interest at stake if he were released.

The "useful idiots" in Scotland did the rest. It might have gone down in the twisted annals of British diplomacy as a great success, if only the Libyans had kept it "low key". But you cannot trust international criminals and you cannot trust Gaddafi.

Anyone who has studied Libyan governance knows if al-Megrahi's guilty, Gaddafi gave him the order. There is no way a decision to commit an atrocity of this magnitude would have been taken by his intelligence services (run by his brother-in-law) without his knowledge and approval.

For more than 30 of his 40 years in power, Gaddafi has run a terrorist state, initially sponsoring and training the most violent terrorist groups and supplying the IRA with much of the semtex it used to bomb British citizens. He ordered the assassination of Libyan opponents of democracy (calling them "stray dogs") at home and abroad. Al-Megrahi's colleagues have been convicted, by a French court, in absentia of the bombing of a UTA passenger jet. And Gaddafi has encouraged mayhem throughout Africa.

So how did he come in from the cold? Quite simply, he became afraid of al-Qaeda and the Islamic fundamentalists who despise as blasphemous his "green book" version of Islam. To preserve his dictatorship and his dynasty (Saif will succeed him) he allied himself with the West after September 11, providing intelligence about nuclear trafficking and disclosing all his dealings with the IRA.

The Bush administration decided his isolation must end. But because the US could not be seen to deal immediately with a terrorist, Tony Blair was dispatched in 2004 to welcome the colonel into the Western fold.

Blair met Gaddafi in his tent. The colonel pointed his bare feet at the prime minister (an Arabic sign of contempt) and then broke wind loudly (a sign of even greater contempt). Gaddafi's fart went unreported by the loyal Blairite press ("We were writing for family newspapers") but it lingers on as a symbol of his true sentiments towards the West and his insouciance about his past crimes.

These crimes are too distant to permit the attention of the International Criminal Court, which can only consider atrocities after 2002. But the prosecutor of the UN's war crimes court for Sierra Leone may take an interest: Gaddafi is accused as a co-conspirator with Charles Taylor, who trained in Libya along with Foday Sankoh, the leader of the rebels who razed Freetown in Operation No Living Thing. That court has held that sitting heads of state have no immunity from prosecution, so an arrest warrant might validly detain him in New York.

There are other legal possibilities. Unruly rulers (like Karadzic, Mugabe and Marcos) have been subjected to civil actions under the US Alien Tort Claims Act, although they cannot be obliged to wait around for the verdict.

There are other prosecution possibilities, yet Gaddafi struts the world invulnerable, not because of his strength but because of the weakness of international law and those who have a duty to apply it.

Geoffrey Robertson, QC, is a member of the UN Internal Justice Council and the author of Crimes against Humanity.Peter Hartcher is on assignment.



As a person who vividly recalls the day of the Pan Am crash, living in The States, who watched the collapse of the airline as a result, the loss of so many innocent lives and the aftermath, the recent decision in Scotland (no doubt not reflected by its people or by that of any in Englad for that matter) is a disgrace of massive proportions. Where is justice I ask? But more importantly, where is the outrage? Where are the people asking more of their government and of those 'allies'? We should all be taking action, if, in no other means than just voicing your opinion. Hope this new website takes off so voices can be heard, read, but more importantly, action taken as a result
Pan Am | Gold Coast - September 12, 2009, 1:34PM
Exactly...how is it that Lybia has enjoyed such relative anonymity, such passive engagement with the world, yet world leaders will not step up to the plate to acknowledge their role in such atrocities. Yes, the damage has been done with the Scottish ruling, but the damage was done years earlier, and so many families suffered as a result
Lock-er-bee | Sydney - September 12, 2009, 1:38PM
Thank you for the above comments. I too can remember the awful day. It seemed the worst thing that could happen...but then 9/11 happened...and now it is September 12, 8 years later...and the Scottish government made their ruling. I find myself asking, "how"? But then again, how was Bush RE-elected?
Li--bee-a | Northern Territory - September 12, 2009, 1:42PM
"Celebrate his dictatorship." Disgraceful, isn't it? Seriously, can you please name the 40 world leaders who visited after the Scottish ruling? I think we all deserve to know.
Fred 45 | VIC - September 12, 2009, 2:02PM
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for forgiveness, but AFTER an apology, which, correct me if I'm mistaken, we (the world) never got. Sure some millions of dollars from Libya to the victims (some years later), but no guilt, no apology, no acknowledgement of association and now, the guilty party welcomed home a hero. Can you name the heads of state that went to visit...and celebrate his dictatorship?
Stephen | Surry Hills, NSW - September 12, 2009, 6:22PM
why is smh censoring any criticism of this article? there were 8 or so comments this morning- most of which were critical (including mine :) - now i see, some 8 hours latter, there are only 5 comments, all of which support mr.robertsons stance- this has got to be news worthy.
hello mr censor

'turn right at the butterfly nebula
follow the signs to anteries 7
take the third exit and fuck man we are lost to...'

space is beautiful, it turns me on.

the deep fix rehearsal without computer technology we are forced into a different direction, a new song nevin has orchestrated, it's a drone, with a jazz bit that quickly morphs into space rock and then back to drone. i like it, although it takes me a while to work out where to sing the words, s strange song called, 'the killing joke.' the bass is awesome and louis plays some sexy sax parts that are kinda sound almost hawkwind like. it's still strange having a drummer, i like it but i'm uncertain if its the sound i want.
i'm now starting to think about a spin off project called, 'the deeper fix'
this would concern itself with the conceptual work i want to do, 'esoterotica' and 'snuff music' and 'music for books' plus various soundtracks. i'm almost on the verge of writing the words for snuff music, the ideas are formulating, they are like a dense cloud of gas swirling together in a massive explosion and gradually forming a solid.

imagination is a powerful tool, it constructs everything we perceive.
imagine running, fast, you are running very fast, as fast as you can imagine within the bounds of plausibility. sweat forms a thick slime between your skin and the clothes you wear, each breath is a cycle of motion forwards and away from, a rhythm unconsciously tuned into the reptile aspect of the brain. this run is attached to survival, you run as though there is no other choice, each leg thrusts before you alternatively, each foot propelling itself from gravity, each arm a driving piston pumping. your eyes focused forwards upon hyper reality, colours enhanced and vivid like a dream like state, more real than real, this is life. your teeth bite down, gritted together, and there's pain, searing pain, the pain is everywhere, it starts in the gut but works its way through the flesh, through the nerves to the extremities where it leaks out through the pores in pheromone frenzy. you are alive. you have never felt more alive.
death is certain, it follows you like a electron orbits the nucleus, you know it is there behind you, over your shoulder, upon your heels. you know it is relentless, it does not cease, it does not falter, it does not distinguish or discriminate, when your number is up baby, it is up. if there were time for contemplation you may come to the conclusion that the only choice is to turn around and look death in the eye and laugh at it as it claims you but this is unthinkable now so you run, ever faster and faster, without looking back. then in that slow motion close up, as the camera sees your face, unshaven, the white uniform maintenance of well groomed teeth clenched together, the look of terror in your eye, the hint of forbidden knowledge because you can smell death upon you, getting closer and closer and as blood flows from the heart directed and distributed by millions of years evolution it suddenly stops. you may find your hands momentarily clutch at your chest. death proclaims 'may god have mercy upon your soul.'
and then you may just find the body gives up and gravity take over, you may have enough time to whisper some last words. they escape your lips like a soft whisper carried upon your last breath.
'why not? after all it belongs to him.'

strangely i attract such problematic people, complexities confront me as i walk my path, and what a path, crazy man, up down in out leading around in circles, here there and everywhere but somehow moving forwards all the time, yet traveling back and forth like a like a water tiger as they gravitate to me, they meet my stare and they fall frozen in awe, they meet humility and they have to destroy it. there is no middle ground with govt. people, agents of evil. i am destined to abandon them. it's written in the stars.

nevin lent me a cd by scott walker, it's one i have on vinyl purchased when it was released but have not been able to play due to not owning a record player. it's called climate of the hunter and i remembered vividly buying it and playing it, that bass line was incredible and then his voice, booming out in baritone, just like a sonic boom each word has its own power. transcendence, but i had forgotten about the amazing last track a sparse blues that just sparks the imagination, as i see a lone horseman trekking through the mountains of the mid west on a white horse as he comes to the river. it's an evocative piece melancholy and empty with a few words, perhaps the only words that actually have a linear feel to them on the whole album.

when i crossed to the river
with a heavy blanket roll
i took nobody with me
not a soul
i took a few provisions
some for comfort
some for cold
but i took
nobody with me
not a soul

where has this figure come from ?
where is he going ?

i love this song as it has space and mystery and sadness. all the ingredients of a perfect song.

dream
agent stone and some others in some sort of weird orgy, in some kind of strange apartment which could be somewhere in germany or the us, inconspicuous area. i'm an observer, partly enthralled and partly stunned by the tackiness of the whole scene as a visitor from the hall peers into the open doorway and offers to participate. he removes his pants and then i wake up somewhat disturbed.
later i connect the dots and recognize i'm reading houellebecq, things seem to suddenly make strange sense. i'm like a character in one of his novels, the bland mundane meets the need to transcend.

the houellbecq i read is his biographical essays on hp lovecraft, 'against the world, against life.' which is brilliantly written and makes lovecraft totally human.

i have recommended 'prince of nothing' to a friend and i am excited that he is to read this amazing series.

work meanwhile...
what is it about the public service that attracts the usual suspects, born agains, jealous and envious people who have nothing better to do to do than compete against their peers, people whose illegitimate anger fuels their destructive nature where the moral high ground is to be conquered not reflected upon. jesus was a human, he was a political animal, a revolutionary, he was a guy who was flawed but a man of our times, yet he conquered his own anger and understood that life is pointless without the idea of love and he is right about this, as are all great teachers. to build a church around this and other religious teachers is a strange construct when essentially the message is the same. may as well build one around google.
oh! look some one has...

The Church of Google offers what it calls nine proofs:

1. Google is the closest thing to an omniscient (all-knowing) entity in existence.

2. Google is everywhere at once (omnipresent).

3. Google answers prayers. (''As an example, you can quickly find information on alternative cancer treatments, or new and innovative medical discoveries, and generally anything that resembles a typical prayer.'')

4. Google is potentially immortal.

5. Google is infinite. (The internet can theoretically grow forever.)

6. Google remembers all.

7. Google can do no evil. (Google's corporate philosophy is ''do no evil''.)

8. Google is believed. (The term ''Google'' is searched for more than the terms ''God'', ''Jesus'', ''Allah'', ''Buddha'', ''Christianity'' and ''Islam'' combined.)

9. Evidence of Google's existence is abundant. No faith is required.

see you at church i guess

the deep fix rehearse a shambolic set last night under the full moon, with a new drummer mr. ian paice, fresh from deep purple to the deep fix. it's strange having a human drummer, it could work, although i imagine the repetitive patterns would become difficult for him, i'm conflicted about the sound, it's so different. i don't really want a rock drum sound but it's early days and we still have to find our feet a bit. i was having trouble hearing and got lost several times.
i did get a chance to talk about stuff with val, the ideas are pouring out from left as in sinister axis, he's like a portal to a universe thats leaking into ours, i am just part of a story, a dimension.
the future holds great things in store.
chatting to our eccentric guitarist i discover he has an amazing concept in his head that is waiting to be revealed. and it is amazing. all these ideas coming together in convergence. all these amazing people on tangents that don't belong anywhere else, i'm for once surrounded by people i respect immensely and really like. these are people who are so far outside the box there is no box. and our time is now.
i better go learn my words.

dream
i'm attending the very private function hosted by the american presidential candidates of unknown parties, possibly republican and democrat but it's very low key and only a select few are there so i have no idea how i am in attendance. the location is two homes in a quite suburban street that face one another, there's a few cars outside and lots of security but it would appear to the civilian as nothing more than a lavish dinner party. there i am walking from one house to the other with a group of people, one of whom is the vice president of one of the parties, we are approached by a dude in a black suit.
the vice president says, 'that's mr ? he's an arms dealer, he don't care who gets voted in, it makes no difference to him.'
he walks up to us and says in a loud brash voice, 'ha you gotta watch this, my new weapon i'm testing, well mr. smith is, he's just parking the car. listen.'
suddenly we hear an explosion and see a plume of rising smoke. a moments silence and then mr ? starts to laugh.

we all move into the lounge area of the house, i'm approached by several people wanting my attention. i wake up.