Farage is your classic populist grifter, a POUNDLAND TRUMP, with simple useless black and white solutions to complex problems. Like Trump, like all Populist conmen they are in it for themselves, come out of it with loads of loot and we pick up the bill. They make everything worse with their divide and hatred. He is already costing us £37 Billion a year with his lying Brexit! He wants more!!
Why do people fall for these lying, nasty conmen?
I don’t think I want to visit the USA right now (apart from the fact that they probably wouldn’t let me in!) under Trump and ICE it seems to be descending into a repressive Police State run by the Gestapo.
They murder good citizens like Renee Good and Alex Pretti for protesting about their Gestapo tactics.
They claim the right to carry arms but that only seems to apply to ICE goons and white supremacists.
Trump is busy shutting down all opposition, muting the media and taking over the democratic process. Talk about rigging elections. He’s putting his guys in charge of everything. I think Putin is providing him with a clear model.
Are we heading for a civil war or a repressive Police State similar to Iran?
Trump, Vance an Noem justify murder. Alex and Renee deserved it – they were opposing the regime.
They killed thousands in Iran. Putin has the opposition locked up in Gulags and murdered. Xi locks up all dissenting voices. Kim just kills them. The USA is well on the road!
Yes! – You can purchase it in Hardback, Paperback, eBook or Audio! How great is that!!
What do you think of the cover? I used AI to put a photo of me in and it transformed me into that handsome dude (not the one on the left! Silly – I’m the one on the right!). As I have woven myself into the story it seemed appropriate.
This Sci-fi novel is rooted in today. A fast-flowing story of social commentary, intrigue and tall tales.
The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement) eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
This sums up what America has become – a playground for the ultra-rich. They are gleefully robbing the poor and laughing at the way the fools continue to support the very people who are robbing them blind.
Trump made $3 billion in his first six months and it passing bills to give himself and his buddies a hell of a lot more.
His whole family are raking it in.
Ever seen a poor senator? Snouts in the same trough.
Talk about draining the swamp!!
America is being run for a wealthy elite. It’s a giant con-trick!
Desperate people with automatic guns are deflected on to blaming immigrants and take it out on schoolchildren.
What a sickbed of racism, misogyny, hypocritical religious fanaticism and cold-blooded exploitation.
74 – Quantum Death
Can you have a quantum death? Death in two places? Death that isn’t death?
The world of quantum is much stranger than Sci-fi. Reality is nowhere near being reality. Everything is super weird. A while back there were experiments to show that photons behave differently when being observed. Now there is serious scientific talk about all matter having consciousness, about the human brain not being the seat of consciousness (but rather an organ that tunes in to the consciousness around it, some kind of sense organ) and not only the planet but the whole universe possesses consciousness. I’m at this moment reading a scientifically based article about planets being conscious and affecting their own orbits. What the hell? Science?? They now believe that we can change reality with the power of our thoughts. It’s getting weirder by the minute. Science is outdoing religion. These theories are becoming stranger than Sci-fi.
For me these ideas resonate back to some of my youthful conversations about universal minds and being part of some great consciousness that had its basis in Eastern mysticism. I remember tuning in to Jim Morrison of the Doors with his lyrics ‘I’m doing time in the universal mind’. It sounds to me as if science is tuning in to a similar concept. All matter contains an intrinsic consciousness. Consciousness isn’t a product of the brain. It answers a lot of things, like how can organisms like flies be aware while having brains the size of pinheads? And are microorganisms aware? That’s before we get to plants! Everything is conscious and aware.
When, long ago, I decided that all religions were manmade power structures with flawed doctrines designed to promote division and tribal behaviour, doctrines that did not shed light on reality and teachings that were based on ignorance and medieval practice (that was best kept securely in the past), I also tended to put aside my views on spirituality. Frankly, I find the concept of god risible. The biblical and Koranic stories fables and the misogyny and violence repulsive. They stem from a different cultural time and place. But when it comes to internal spiritual development and understanding, as through meditation and contemplation; that I can accept. I often find myself transported by nature, a sunset or a log fire. I have an affinity for nature and oneness with the natural world. That is my spirituality.
Perhaps the universe is stranger than we think? Perhaps reality is an illusion? Perhaps consciousness is a product of matter? Perhaps the weirdness of quantum is the norm?
So where does that leave death? If the direction quantum physics seems to be heading: into a mystical connection, perhaps I have to view death a little differently? An end and a beginning. Perhaps it is the end of myself as an entity, an ego, a living organism, a man? But perhaps it is a reawakening into the universal mind of the cosmos?
Wouldn’t that be nice?
So none of your religious nonsense – no heaven, hell, paradise or Valhalla, no god presiding over everything and dispensing arbitrary rules and threats, just a cosmic universality, a consciousness into which I would dissolve! Takes me straight back to my youthful ruminations!
Isn’t life wonderful?
I await further scientific investigation on the quantum intelligence of reality, nature of spirituality and the death of tribal religions!
Until then I’ll continue to regard death as an end.
In Search of Captain Beefheart stands out among rock music memoirs because it blends personal storytelling with cultural analysis. Unlike traditional musician biographies that focus solely on an artist’s career, Opher Goodwin’s book is a deeply personal reflection on how rock music shaped his identity and worldview.
Compared to memoirs by musicians themselves, such as Keith Richards’ Life or Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run, Goodwin’s book is more about the experience of a fan rather than an artist’s firsthand account of fame and music-making. It’s similar in spirit to books like Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung by Lester Bangs, which explore rock music’s impact on culture rather than just recounting events.
Additionally, Goodwin’s memoir is unique in its historical scope, covering major world events like the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam War, and Cold War, showing how rock music was intertwined with these moments. This makes it more than just a music memoir—it’s a cultural history seen through the lens of rock.
In Search of Captain Beefheart eBook : Goodwin, Opher: Amazon.co.uk: Books
What these billionaires want is the right to peddle their propaganda as truth! Free Speech should be fact checked! Licence to say what you like even if it is deliberately untrue is NOT free speech.
Look how Twitter has descended into a toxic mess of hate and conspiracy!!
TESLA and its SWAZTICARS is now as TOXIC as Trump!!
I really enjoyed writing this book. It charts a journey that started for me at the age of ten – my love of rock music. I bought my first singles at the age of ten – Buddy Holly and Adam Faith. I bought my first album at the age of eleven – The Shadows Greatest Hits. I saw my first live band at the age of fourteen – the (British) Birds. Them were my second live band. I never looked back. Hooked on the excitement. I was addicted.
In the late sixties I was immersed in the sixties underground scene and saw everyone – from Roy Harper to Hendrix and Cream. I used to see Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Free in pubs, Jackson C Frank, Al Stewart and John Martyn at Les Cousins and was invited to Abbey Road studios for Roy Harper’s fabulous recording sessions. Meeting and talking to major rock stars behind the scenes and purchasing twelve thousand vinyl albums seemed like paradise. I saw a lot of the old blues guys, the folk guys and all the major bands. Life rocked.
This book is my attempt to capture it in words.
It’s probably my most successful book. You might find it entertaining!
Preface
Jack White launched into the searing riff that was the intro to ‘Death Letter Blues’. It shot me straight back to 1968 and the thrill of seeing and hearing Son House. Son’s national steel guitar was more ragged than Jack White’s crystal clear electric chords, and nowhere near as loud, but the chords rang true and the energy and passion were exactly the same.
Meg pounded the drums and the crowd surged forward.
It was Bridlington Spa in 2004. White Stripes were the hottest thing on the planet. The place was packed and the atmosphere electric. I was right near the front – the only place to be at any gig – the place where the intensity was magnified.
It was a huge crowd and they were crazy tonight. I could see the young kids piling into the mosh-pit and shoving – excited groups of kids deliberately surging like riot cops in a wedge driving into the crowd and sending them reeling so that they tumbled and spilled. For the first time I started getting concerned. The tightly packed kids in the mosh-pit were roaring and bouncing up and down and kept being propelled first one way and then another as the forces echoed and magnified through the mass of people. At the front the crush was intense and everyone was careering about madly. My feet were off the ground as we were sent hurtling around. I had visions of someone getting crushed, visions of someone falling and getting trampled. Worst of all – it could be me!
For the first time in forty odd years of gigs I bailed out. I ruefully headed for the balcony and a clear view of the performance. I didn’t want a clear view I wanted to be in the thick of the action. It got me wondering – was I getting to old for this lark? My old man had only been a couple of years older than me when he’d died. Perhaps Rock Music was for the young and I should be at home listening to opera or Brahms with an occasional dash of Wagner to add the spice. I had become an old git. Then I thought – FUCK IT!!! Jack White was fucking good! Fuck Brahms – This was Rock ‘n’ Roll. You’re never too old to Rock! And Rock was far from dead!
The search goes on!!
We haven’t got a clue what we’re looking for but we sure as hell know when we’ve found it.
Rock music has not been the backdrop to my entire adult life; it’s been much more than that. It has permeated my life, informed it and directed its course.
From when I was a small boy I found myself enthralled. I was grabbed by that excitement. I wanted more. I was hunting for the best Rock jag in the world! – The hit that would send the heart into thunder and melt the mind into ecstasy.
I was hunting for Beefheart, Harper, House, Zimmerman and Guthrie plus a host of others even though I hadn’t heard of them yet.
I found them and I’m still discovering them. I’m sixty four and looking for more!
Forget your faith, hope and charity – give me Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll and the greatest of these is Rock ‘n’ Roll!
I was a kid in the Thames Delta, with pet crow called Joey, 2000 pet mice (unnamed), a couple of snakes, a mammoth tusk, a track bike with a fixed wheel, a friend called Mutt who liked blowing up things, a friend called Billy who kept a big flask of pee in the hopes of making ammonia, and a lot of scabs on my knees.
My search for the heart of Rock began in 1959 and I had no idea what I was looking for when I started on this quest. Indeed I did not know I had embarked on a search for anything. I was just excited by a new world that opened up to me; the world of Rock Music. My friend Clive Hansell also had no idea what he was initiating when he introduced me to the sounds he was listening to. Clive was a few years older than me. He liked girls and he liked Popular Music. Yet he seemed to have limited tastes. I can only ever remembering him playing me music by two artists – namely Adam Faith and Buddy Holly. In some ways it was a motley introduction to the world of Rock ‘n’ Roll.
I was ten years old which would have made Clive about twelve or thirteen, I suppose he could even have been fourteen. That is quite a lot of years at that age. We used to got off to his bedroom, sit on the bed and he’d play me the singles – 45s – on his Dansette player. He’d stack four or five singles on the deck push the lever up to play and we’d lean forward and watch intently. The turntable would start rotating; the mechanism clunked as the arm raised, there were clicks and clunks as the arm drew back and the first single dropped, then the arm would come across and descend on to the outer rim of the disc. The speaker would hiss and crackle and then the music kicked in. We watched the process intently every time as if it depended on our full attention.
The Adam Faith singles were on Parlaphone and were red with silver writing. The Buddy Holly was on Coral with a black label and silver writing. We reverentially watched the discs spinning and listened with great concentration to every aspect of the songs. It was a start.
Yet Rock ‘n’ Roll was by no means the only quest I’d started on. I was an early developer. I’d hit puberty at ten and can imagine myself as the scruffy little, dirty-faced kid who climbed trees, waded through ditches, got covered in frogspawn and lichen and was suddenly sprouting pubic hair – very confusing.
Life was going to change for me. I was in a transition phase.
In Search of Captain Beefheart: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798346131236: Books
This is my latest offering. Just more words. I may have invented one or two but mainly they are just old words rearranged in order to recreate the thoughts and feelings that swirl around in my head. I have these concepts living in electricity in circuits in my brain. They seem to mean something. I translate them into symbols. These symbols are made of letters. The letters represent sounds. The sounds form a language. Language enables conscious human beings to express themselves and communicate. Communication is good. We are not alone. We share.
The hope is that the emotions, feelings are thoughts that go on in my head are similar to the ones that reside in your head. It’s a forlorn hope. In reality we are islands of consciousness unable to understand the universe any other being inhabits. My red is different to your red. I live in an entirely different universe to you.
But I am not deterred.
I still interpret electricity, convert it to symbols and use them to make contact. It’s futile. All life is futile. That’s what makes it magnificent.
These are my words.
You can purchase my words for a very small sum of money. You can own them, think about them and see if we manage to communicate across the infinite reaches that separate us. I hope so!
Fighting words. Fighting life. Fighting meaning. Life not death.
Fighting justice, fighting freedom, Fighting for breath.
Fighting arrogance, fighting violence, Fighting Hate.
Fighting for my principles before it’s all too late!
Fighting greed, fighting oppression, for fairness and ice-cream!
Fighting for fun, for love, for tolerance – fighting ‘til I scream!
Words are my weapons. Words have many meanings.
I’m fighting words. I’m fighting words.
These are my words.
Fighting Words
Available:
Fighting Words eBook : Goodwin, Opher: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
Thank you for giving my electricity some thought!
