GingerZilla…a creature in harmony with his madness.

Fear? If I have gained anything by damning myself, it is that I no longer have anything to fear. ~ Sartre

You are a bad bastard Craig, an evil genius within whose blog might be discovered a universal panacea, an imaginary antivenin for all the known mental ailments troubling humanity. I fear however, for the mental well-being of academics exposed to your ruminations and plots, who would surely join medicine’s equivalent of The Surgeon Of Crowthorne to complete their work in a barred residence for the dangerously bewildered.

I noticed the bit on rotting corpses and having deduced that the juices of one was seeping into the concrete floor of the adjoining flat one summer day in a tropical town, one can justifiably use the foetid word. I made do, in describing the corrupt end of Brisbane’s George Street, as the sewage end, but I hasten to add that discretion disallowed proper nouns like Schwarten, Bligh and Lucas to be so included.

In time I hope to get around to a lot of things, and completing the half-baked post I alluded to is top priority. I recognise this lame missive as an inadequate reply to your tweets, being more “off the cuff” to the point of ad lib than yours, but I hope to atone.

The object of that post was to correct your mind image of a hard-drive buried in the freezer with the gen to bring down an empire. For me at least, that m.o. is as dead as the micro-dot attached to postage stamps. I would fuck-up if I tried being technical. No! I belong to the abacus era, a hand written diary for my notes which must be added-to daily to maintain a rhythm.

My partner kept a hand-written record of her dealings with a piece of shit named Rogers and his drug-using daughter who fraudulently assumed credit for the training of the winner of an inaugural 2 YO race that has gone on to be a big event in Australia’s racing calendar.

My friend, who Oscar Wilde had in mind when he asserted no good deed should go unpunished coaxed me into obtaining a loan at the huge compound interest of the eighties for a half share in their recently retired, 77% place rate stallion, Highland Beau, for stud work. The cash was for dealers who were leaning on her.

He quickly reneged and secreted the horse with another “partner” leading to my friend’s notes being pivotal in getting the cash back and the hollow victory of the stallion’s return.

Since then, I’ve kept a similar hand-written daily record of the most mundane of happenings, and as such can’t be easily altered as can p.c. entries.

I suspect this stuff doesn’t get to your post or problems with html. Will stick it on my post and you can take it if you want it. I’ve lots to do and should disable modem, twitter a distraction. Adobe reader crashing and not even watching wanker stuff.

Till later, Les Johns.



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