Time Travel

As we quickly approach midway in 2020 (less than six weeks away!) it’s heartening to know that time travel is possible. Thank fuck for that, I thought we were going to be screwed! Yes, it does involve some graft, granted, but a few weeks in the shed with some strong Yorkshire Tea should about do it. In theory, if we travelled out from Earth for five years at the speed of light then back again (u-turn at Proxima Centauri), although 10 years would have elapsed on the spacecraft, 29 years would have passed here on Earth. It’s an effort, I grant you, but Trump would definitely be out by then. But looking at the basics, for a year to pass . . . Yorkshire Tea, spacecraft, speed of light, four months. Send donations to my Kickstarter page #LetsGetTheFuckOutOfHere

Talking of time moving more slowly, I’m at the end of the second week of the Wim Hof Method, the amazing Iceman performing ‘superhuman’ feats in sub-zero nature. Wim comes across as an honest, scientific, energetic man, but I’ll be honest and say that starving myself of oxygen to start my day isn’t as appealing as it sounds. It’s almost as if our bodies want us to breathe! Two weeks down, cold showers embraced, breath holding for two and a half minutes. As a pick me up I started Sam Harris’ End of Faith, which is shaping up nicely to ruin all religion if Tom Paine’s Age of Reason didn’t stamp any last scintilla of faith already. Incidentally, cold showers leave much to be desired and have a time-travel experience all of their own: if I wanted to recall what I was like when five years old, all I have to do is look down in a cold shower. Totally emasculating. Am barely a male.
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Taking advantage of spending more time at home, I’ve started drawing again, with the aim of adding cartoons to the blog. Bear with me! In trying to get more exercise over the last few weeks, I’ve started running, beating my personal best around a local track of four kilometres. It sounds great, but near the end I was passed by a tub of lard, shuffling along eating ice-cream. I had a sprint finish, thrashing my nemesis by inches. As I panted for breath at the last post, my heart climbing out of my mouth to get some fresh air, he just kept on plodding, lighting a cigarette. Utterly demoralising.
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​What am I listening to? The Grudge by Tool.
What am I watching? The occasional Steve Colbert and Have I Got News For You
What am I wearing? Same as everyone else, nothing from the waist down.