The wilful vegetable

The reader will understand that I am only writing this to prove (within reason) that I am still alive, and enjoying my new life as a vegetable. For this I must thank the surgeons who generously gave me a neurological condition, to replace the cardiac problem I approached them with. The stroke left me in a constant state of the dizzies, walking the streets as a common Parkdale inebriate, and forgetting things — for instance words, and names especially. Given enough time, however, specific vocables may suddenly return, and I may fill in the blanks of an abandoned composition.

A kind reviewer has told me that the result can be almost coherent, and you know, I am wilful and determined to persist.

Meanwhile, so far as I am able to judge, the world has entered a state somewhat similar to my own. I suspect even the leading statesmen wobble, when they try to walk. As the plurality of children are now aborted, and the sex of the survivors is frequently changed, and “Medical Assistance In Death” may be prescribed for the remainder, the population of the world might soon be running out.

For the transient inhabitants of this world are now obliged to “follow the science,” and the content of this science is murderously insane. We thus spill into an environmental anti-disaster, of a kind so appalling to make all the mega-disasters of the past seem merely frumpish by comparison. Ours will consist of industrial disintegration and collapse, general hypothermia, and famine, as all of our sources of energy and food are politically banned, in the general hysteria over “climate change.”

Already carbon dioxide and nitrogen are scheduled to be phased out, on the planetary scale, and I would imagine that oxygen and other objectionable gases will be added to the list. The object is “carbon neutrality” or death.

Ah well. Perhaps we will experience the contrary fashion, in the next season.