MR William has his own Extinction Rebellion

Dear Reader, 

Are you as confused as I am, if that's possible? Have you caught 'flygskam' from Greta Thunberg yet? Seems it's guilt about the number of flights a bod takes. I had to give flying up as a bad job when my blood pressure flew off the Richter scale. It wasn't, as some naughty peeps thought, a 'mile high club' incident gone horribly wrong. Those newspaper reports were about some other ol' codger, not I, your honour!

So, why am I confused? Well, you see, the reason is I am now in heaven in blissful joy, playing a wee harp tunelessly while floating on a fluffy cumulonimbus pillow. Yes, the reason why the dopey son in law has failed to publish this stuff and be damned for some years now is, surprise surprise, he has ziltsch ideas without my input. He really is a buck eejit thinking he is a writer when he has zero imagination and even less talent.

So you ask what happened? Well, I got dementia, lost the plot and then fell off my perch one day without warning. Hey ho, we all have to go, but it's fine here, if a little same-y. I'll never get a decent tune outta this stringed torture instrument. 

So, what changed, Mr Peeps, that brought you out of heavenly retirement, you ask? Well, I peeped over the cloud one day and looked down at the Earth and what assaulted my immortal gaze but images of Donald Trump, Brexit, climate emergency, extreme inequalities, injustice and cruelty.

So, what would you have done? Well, my response was to check with the boss for the green light, then I haunted the dopey son in law until he agreed to start writing my diary again. He didn't need much persuasion, after the initial surprise, when I reminded the dodgy little blighter that I could see every little thing that he got up to and that blackmail was not a dirty word in my vocabulary where he was concerned.

So, here we are, reader. My messages might be a little ethereal, but will have cosmic wisdom and will only be mediated by the feeble failings of my dim amanuensis, ie the son in law. He just needs to remember that my all seeing eye knows where his 'bodies are buried'?!

Anyway, today I want to talk to you, kind person, about my concern for the planet and the future of my grandchildren, not to mention humanity and life as we know it. It all seems crystal clear to me 'from a distance'.  My grasp of things, however, used to be dodgy. You see how you are if you make it to 93? My body was indeed a temple, but like many ancient Greek ones, it was a bit of a ruin. In the end I might have needed one of those amazing exo-skeleton things to get around? 

So, anyway, one time when I heard the church was looking for an 'organ donation', I thought they wanted a kidney. That struck a bum note with me, I can tell you. I stayed away thinking they might draw lots and I would pull out the short straw.
Then I rang my dopey son in law to check and typically the wee git said I had a wrong number and this was NASA in Houston and did I have a problem. Space Cadet! He has a supermassive black hole where his brain should be.

No help there! Next, I got a bally call out of the blue, asking me if wanted to give to 'Blind dogs for the Deaf'? Seemed fair enough to me, but then I believed Gerry Adams was never in the IRA. Seems he was innocently walking along the street, minding his own, when some bloke with a strong southern accent whispered out of the side of his mouth, "How wud ya loik ta run the IRA?"
At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me.

Anyway, you can see my difficulty. Although my head was full of sweetie mice and my affairs were in alpha-pathetical order, I could still read the writing on the wall and knew right from wrong. Now, my moral compass is perfectly true.

For instance, our litter is litter-ally filling the land and sea. Fish are choking on our plastic and our overuse of fossil fuels is boiling our atmosphere at an increasing level, with drastic consequences. If we don't start to really sort it, do we think we're all going to fly off in a few decades to a new goldilocks planet in some other galaxy? How short sighted and full of overweening hubris are we humans? Didn't we learn from the story of Icarus?

The thing is you can use your re-usable coffee cup  and recycle to a level that would cheer Sir David Attenborough himself, but I think Greta and the children are right that it will take all governments to legislate and facilitate the necessary changes without further delay or selfish national interest.

Of course, everyone of us needs to do our bit individually, even dinosaurs like I was. Don't forget that the dinosaurs went extinct after a cataclysmic event! Do we want to be next? So, I'm with Extinction Rebellion on this. No-one wants to be disrupted by a pesky protester, but only peaceful, if a little pesky, protests will change hearts and minds, particularly those of decision makers worldwide.

You see, dear reader, I spent most of my adult life trying to rebel against my own little extinction. That is the primary imperative of every living being, but we humans are going to have to think bigger. We developed the large brains, so let's use them for good ends. My dog could sense danger and act on it and it licked it's own butt. Maybe that's where we need to get our heads out of?

So, the point is, readers and fellow humans, we all have to wake up, smell the coffee (from a re-usable cup, of course!) and work together without our biggest human negative trait, pure selfish interest.
Otherwise, some day soon you might have to explain to a child why the planet will be uninhabitable before they can vote or have a family of their own?

Any road, serious stuff over for today. Here are some things that tickled my doodah. If there are sunny spells, does that mean Harry Potter is feeling bright? Is a 'critical mass' one where the priest has his bishop observing? That really is religious 'observance'? Could 'critical mass' also be triggered by that extra doughnut that might make me explode? Is a 'francophile' a bod who likes all things French or some plonker who admired the Spanish dictator? 

Finally, is a 'sinophile' Chinese crackers or crackers about China? That really takes the biscuit.
Before I go, did you hear the doc on the radio, a Prof. Ivor Nancer, who was praising the British Association of Plastic Surgeons for a responsible attitude. Yes, it seems BAPS is against unneeded 'Boob jobs'. Is it just me, reader? Do organisations never check the initials?

Off now to recycle my harp. Like my body, it served me well, but  the universe had to re-purpose it.
In the meantime, loads of love and joy from

The Heavenly Blogging Gogfather (Still a 'gog' at heart, that's a grumpy ol' git!)