To whomsoever it may concern: if you’re around in London on Saturday 24th February and fancy a first drink with a Tricenarian version of me here’s some advance warning that I’ll be celebrating my birthday in the Royal George from 7 until they kick us out for throwing pistachio nut shells around.

I’ll try send out some more proper invitations, but age does not seem to have improved my clerical skills at all: all the emails and phone numbers I wish I had are scattered through ten gigs of email folders.

So while we’re on the subject of biblical smiting…. it looks like Edmonton may finally get what it deserves.

And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar. And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children builded. And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one anothers speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. Therefore is the name of it called Babel confusion; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.

Q. “Why can’t we all just get along?”

A. Because God was a dick.

Now we’ve seen that you can get into quite a high orbit without ending up in heaven it looks like getting in a huff over a tower was unreasonably pre-emptive.

Incidentally, I thoroughly recommend going to watch Babel.

Last weekend was our annual pilgrimage to Southampton for the Guymas 2007 extravaganza. I’m pleased to report that even at 30, Guy still appears as studly as ever, especially when viewed at a jaunty angle.

Glossing over the important theological significance of the festival to Guymas aficionados, I’ve compared this year to the previous events on record to try and figure out the trajectory of Guymas in the future.

Popular Guymas rituals this year:

• Black and white photography.
• Tequila consumption.
• The eating and stacking of pizza.
• The production of balloon animals.
• Enthusiastic gyratory movements that could, if one were very generous, be interpreted as dancing.
• Roast meat.
• Laughing at Guy’s family album (thanks Meg)

But for some reason, there wasn’t much:

• Arm punching.
• Karaoke.
• Curry.
• Dungeon.

Here’s some more photographic evidence and here’s to the next few hundred Guymases.

Further to my last post, Pope Bob passed on yesterday morning. Given the abundance of papal authority he handed out, it seem safe to assume he has skipped the 50 year queue and already been canonized. If not, I’ll use my own papal infallibility to push it through.

If anyone else wants to participate in my ad-hoc memorial, probably involving a combination of helium balloons and pasta, let me know. It’ll have to wait a week for guymas, but I’ve got to see how far I can get that lasagna to fly.

Robert Anton Wilson has been one of my favourite authors ever since I randomly picked one of his books out of a comic shop bargain bin in Leeds. He’s as crazy as a fruitbat and as wise as a man can be, and I’ve tried to convince a lot of people to read his brilliant Illuminatus! trilogy over the years, though to my disappointment most of them put it down baffled or irritated after making it through the first few chapters.

This week some apes have poked and prodded him and told him he could be close to death, and he’s taking their comments with all the wit and wisdom that he’s brought to all his books.

“Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night”

Various medical authorities swarm in and out of here predicting I have between two days and two months to live. I think they are guessing. I remain cheerful and unimpressed. I look forward without dogmatic optimism but without dread. I love you all and I deeply implore you to keep the lasagna flying.

Please pardon my levity, I don’t see how to take death seriously. It seems absurd.

RAW