Well, it’s been one of those days when a stranger (who wishes to remain anonymous) posts you a photocopied page from a book by David Icke, for reasons unknown.
It was a page from Icke’s seminal text The Robot’s Rebellion, which is, in fact, as mental as it sounds. If you’ve never come across David Icke, the former footballer, sports presenter and man who came to believe he was “son of the Godhead” or something after a psychic told him he was a healer who had been placed on Earth for a purpose, and that the spirit world was going to pass messages to him so he could educate others, then please do take a shortcut and read the Wikipedia entry on him here.
I wouldn’t normally usher people in Wikipedia’s general direction for verification of facts but can’t be a lot far off the case in this instance. It’s slightly frustrating when mad people post you stuff that makes no sense, with no note, no clue to why they have, but that’s life. For the record it was something very Scientologist-esque about doctors and anti-depressives and robots and stuff.
Yesterday a good journo mate recieved no less than six emails and photos from a woman claiming to have seen a UFO which clearly is a streetlamp, but at least she let him know what she was on about.
However, on a serious note, at least neither of us have recently received a hand-drawn portrait of ourselves from a violent prisoner or a “thank you” card from a dangerous sex offender or someone threatening suicide. Which happened.
I can only imagine (and prefer not to) how that particular brand of fucked thing to happen to you feels. My crazies so far in the last eight years have been anonymous, placatable, hang-upable, glad someone listened to them for a bit and never (to my knowledge) tried to find out where I live.
There by the grace of god go I. And thank god we have a security system that fools most of us and traps us in its jaws on a regular basis. The crazies have No Chance.