St. Victor of Python
And it came to pass that Saint Victor was taken from this place
to another place, where he was lain to rest himself amongst
sheets of muslin and velvet.
And there stroked was he by maidens of the Orient.
For sixteen days and nights stroked they him, yea verily and
His hair, ruffled they. And their fingers rubbethed they in oil
of olives, and ranneth them across all parts of his body for as
much as to soothe him.
And the soles of his feet licked they. And the upper parts of
his thigh did they anoint with the balm of forbidden trees.
And with the teeth of their mouths, nibbled they the pointed
bits at the top of his ears. Yea verily, and did their tongues
thereof make themselves acquainted with his most secret places.
For fifteen days and nights did Victor withstand these maidens,
until he cried out, saying:
"This...is fantastic! Oh...this is *terrific!!*"
And the Lord did hear the cry of Victor. And verily came He
down and slew the maidens. And caused their cottonwool bugs to
blow away, and their Kleenex to be laid waste utterly.
And Victor, in his anguish, cried out that the Lord was a rotten
So the Lord sent an angel to comfort Victor for the weekend.
And entered they together the jaccuzzi.
Here endeth the lesson.
A CONCISE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE
Part One- Chapters 1 to 5
by Zac Bishrey
This History was featured previously in the fellow (but now
unfortunately defunct) "ST Enthusiasts Newsletters" disk
magazine. A drink-provoking amount of cheers therefore go to Dave
Mooney (and John Weller, too).
In the beginning (slightly before ST NEWS) there was...
The Creation of the Universe (5)
(Beware of other unauthentic stories)
It is not widely known that God™ created the Universe in a fit
of pique, a bout of temper, and when no one was looking.
It is even less widely known that it was very early in the
morning when the unhappy event took place; but on what day and at
what time precisely, no one seems to know with any degree of
certainty, because God™ had not yet had time to create desk-top
calendars or make digital watches.
Rumour has it, that creation took place at precisely 0545 GMT
(Grand Mesopotamean Time) or there about, on Monday the 19th of
Nissan (later corrupted to April) in the year 3760 BC (ie 3760
Before Christmas), approximately.
A very clever cleric from Dublin University, however, disputed
the time and date of this minor event, and insisted that it all
happened on the stroke of the second hour of a ten-hour day;
Tuesday 27th October 4004 BC, according to his precise
calculations based on the ages of some middle eastern gents.
He also argued (correctly) that as God™ created man a biped,
because trousers have two legs and bicycles have two pedals, it
follows therefore, as night follows day, that if God™ had
intended the day to have 24 hours, then He would have put 12
fingers on each hand, and that is final.
To my certain knowledge, no one to this day has succeeded in
correcting our clerical friend, by confusing him with such trivia
as Hubble's Constant, the Universal Speed Criterion, Darwinian
evolution, dinosaur fossils, Carbon 14 dating, and other devilish
little tricks like that.
A mechanical (diesel) engineer and amateur astronomer (with a
modest telescope) from Eye near Peterborough did, however, gather
enough courage to ask our clerical friend: How is it then, if
there was no universe before 4004 BC, that we can now observe
stars and galaxies and other bits of rubbish like that, whose
light has been travelling towards us, not only for hundreds of
years, but for thousands and millions and billions of years ? And
what on earth do these massive monsters think they are up to, by
shining their light so brightly, all these millions of years,
before God™ created them? Eh? Eh?
It is not known if our clerical friend actually understood the
point that our questioner was trying to make...
At any rate, he never gave an answer, for the simple reason that
he was brain-dead (probably) long before he finalised his precise
calculations for the time and date of the creation of God's™
It was the racket that God's™ infant son was making (he was
raised exclusively on Liebfrau milch... honest, look it up in
your German dictionary), which had kept Him awake all night and
feeling moody and in bad temper; so He decided to amuse Himself
by making a Universe full of stars which rotate around flat
earths, and another star which goes walkies in front of three
middle eastern chaps (riding camels in broad daylight), then
hovering over a grotty stable like a stranded lawn mower and
absolutely refusing to budge.
He also created hell and damnation attendants, and gave them
jobs in the Ministry of Opted-Out Education, then called them
Volvo drivers, as a punishment for sinful motorbikers, and for
the purpose of having a big laugh at the expense of the motor-
bike riding fraternity, but that came much later.
In the meantime, this infant son of God's™ wife from a previous
marriage, had blue eyes, long fair hair, and wore a trendy white
nightshirt, which had wide sleeves and was long enough to cover
his sandals, according to Leonardo da Vinci, Michelagniolo di
Lodovico Buonarroti, and a host of other experts on received
guess-work, who understand these things, and know all about this
subject inside out.
God's™ infant son was fond of crying in the wilderness at the
slightest provocation (or none at all), enjoyed bringing down
temples for fun (or as an early example of kick-starting the
stagnant economy by introducing buoyancy into the building
industry), loved upsetting rich merchants for something to do,
cherished a good argument with crooked bankers to show off his
knowledge of negative equity, and went out of his way to vex smug
lawyers for the sheer joy of it. Serves them all right.
He was also the olympic champion of the new sport of pushing
camels through the eyes of needles.
Apart from all that, he was an acknowledged expert on drying fig
trees; though for what useful purpose that was intended to be, no
one ever found out yet, and the matter is still being
investigated in Barnsley by fingerprint experts of the West
His favourite pastime, however, was setting fire to bushes. Yes,
there was a lot of arson about in those days.
Gifts of pots of gold, gallons of Channel No.5, not to mention
jars of cascara cut little ice with him, because he had a big
chip on his shoulder, which he could not get rid of.
That was hardly surprising, because his mother's husband from
the previous marriage was a carpenter called Joe, who couldn't
afford a workmate, and used a blunt adze which showered chips on
everything and over everybody's shoulders, and went around
shouting interminably "it's all lies", and "that's another fine
mess you got me into Mary", but no one could decipher what he
meant by all that, even unto this day.
God™ sat all night trying to work out a plan for creating a
Universe, because He couldn't go to sleep by counting sheep, or
by reading a thesis on nonlinear finite element analysis; for the
simple reason that He had not yet created sheep to count, let
alone postulating a working hypothesis for laminar structures, to
bore Himself into slumber; and since He was feeling moody and
irritable, He was determined that if He couldn't go to sleep,
then nobody would.
Some astrologers, including a huge one-eyed amateur (who never
tires of telling you about his fifteen inch reflecting telescope
at the bottom of his garden and, not being au-fait with italian,
pronounces Giotto as jee-yoto), claim that they owe it to
themselves to scratch their heads in complete and utter
bewilderment and let you know that God™, with a big bang, created
a whole lot of insomniacs and mechanical engineers and disk
magazine editors, to sit up all night writing various authentic
versions of His biography.
Many historians, including a cosmologist from Bradford High
School and a young mechanical engineer from Peterborough, insist
that that is a load of second-hand codswallop, because it was not
so much a bang (since God™ hates loud noises even more than He
hates Volvo drivers and hell and damnation attendants), but
rather a hardly audible whimper (by using a simple formula which
he created for the purpose), but if people are too lazy to work
it out for themselves, then they had better explain it to them in
their own native language, and in words of as few syllables as
Needless to say, that creating a brand new Universe presented a
few problems that God™ had not thought about when He was day-
dreaming about the thankless project.
To start with, He had to buy billions of tons of good quality
top-soil from Doncaster, for the hanging gardens in Babylon, and
for all the allotments in Burnley, though for what reason, no one
has been able to work out yet.
At three pounds plus delivery and VAT per cubic meter, it was a
bargain really, in those days of single figure inflation.
Bargains, however, do not come cheap and if you want a genuine
bargain then you jolly well have to pay for it through the nose.
In other words it was going to cost Him a fortune, so where was
the money to come from dear ?
God™ thought He would create a machine for printing the money,
which to Him was almost (but not quite) as easy as ordering a
"STEN" disk-magazine from Dave Mooney.
His wife, however, told Him that that would make it necessary
for Him to double VAT (and more), to increase prescription
charges, impose a pole tax on the more unfortunate of His
creatures, put up the interest rate, and apply to the Deutsche
Bank to allow Him to move the shekel two percentage points down
the narrow band of ERM (ie Easily Recycled Money), to pay for the
top-soil from Doncaster.
It would also cause high inflation, she said, after all His
prudent policies, which brought it down from the punishingly high
levels to which it was allowed to drift at the end of the
previous universe, and would cause a lot of unemployment for all
the people that He was about to create, which was a pity really,
even though it was a price well worth paying for lowering the
inflation (figure), which was the winter scourge of the previous
God™ considered this wise counsel for seven seconds, then came
to the correct conclusion that His wife was right as always (this
is only inserted here because Maggie is looking over my
shoulder), so He passed the buck to the gurus in the Treasury,
and instructed them to go back to their droring boards and come
up with a solution that would be seen to be hurtin', otherwise no
one is ever going to believe that it was workin'.
The Treasury gurus came up with the nifty idea of printing the
money first then creating a monetarist policy afterwards.
They also solved the (carefully planned) unemployment problem,
or Negative Employment Situation as they called it, so the
jobless do not notice that they are without work; by removing
from the statistics all the unemployed below retirement age, thus
reducing the dole (figure) to exactly zero, without finding a
single job for a single one of the idle devils.
More than that; they divided the working day into morning and
afternoon sessions, with ten minutes in between for a jam butty
and a cuppa, then claimed (correctly) that they doubled
employment at a stroke, and boasted modestly that they managed to
create twice as many jobs as there are people in the whole
universe, and that, they said, was very good news indeed.
To prove their point, they pinned up notices on the walls of
every job centre in every planetary system, inviting the idle
jobless and the self-unemployed to get on their bikes and pedal
to where they might find the jobs, if they looked hard enough for
No one, however, succeeded in finding a single solitary one of
these elusive vacancies, because by an amazing coincidence (and
because the smart-art gurus in the Ministry of Unemployment were
fond of sick jokes), the vacancies never happened to be on any
planet where these jobs were advertised.
For your information; the gurus' ingenious device for reducing
the seasonally adjusted unemployment figure, while the number of
unemployed kept on rising, was by no means original, because that
trick had been recorded not only in the annals of King Myrtle of
Babylonia, but also in the diary of the Caliph of Baghdad, as the
eighteenth guru fiddle.
It is to the credit of the voting gumbies of Babylonia and the
community-poll-charge-tax payers of Baghdad, that they began to
smell a rat, after this scheme had been in operation for only
thirteen centuries, and that is why it was dropped by the gurus
after the eighteenth fiddle, and was never used again at any time
anywhere in the world...
Nevertheless, God™ was so impressed with this simple solution,
that He knighted the whole lot of gurus, and pinned gongs on
their aprons and rolled-up trousers, and put garters on their
silk stockings, then topped His gratitude by appointing them as
chairpersons of privateered companies at 495,000 pounds per annum
(index linked), and appointed their wives on the boards of opted-
out hospitals for good measure.
It was half past three in the afternoon when disaster struck.
God's™ son, after washing his feet, forgot to turn off the
unmetered Thames Water tap, so the whole Universe was flooded.
Thanks be to the Sumerians, who recorded the original episode on
tablet 11 of the "Epic of Gilgamish" (beware of the plagiarised
version in the Book of Almighty Truths), we know now that the
unfortunate incident took place in 3050 BC.
It is written (therefore the faithful among us wouldst declare
that it must be the holy truth), that the tap was left open for
forty days and forty nights.
Actually, the tap was left turned on for a little under a
fortnight, but the figure forty is a holy Babylonian number, and
must, therefore, be used wherever possible, whether in context or
not, as an approved alternative to the number seven (another holy
Babylonian number), whichever happens to be the more outrageous,
or looked prettier in print, in all authentic and holy Babylonian
The unmetered water gushing out of the tap, not only flooded the
whole universe, but the apple grove (with only one apple tree in
the middle of it, and a small snake), which had taken God™ ages
to cultivate was ruined, and the snake left in a state of shock.
Needless to say, it was the gardener and his wife who got the
blame for all the fallen apples, and that earned them instant
dismissal from the garden of Eden without so much as a final
warning, and certainly without any compensation.
On top of that, they were fined 50,000 pounds by Thames Water
plc, which this benevolent company donated instantly (in the
interest of the consumers) to the Babylonian Control Office
(their favourite charity), as a tax deductible donation to help
this charity towards the £10M expenses incurred during the
previous general election in the garden of Eden.
In addition to that, and as a just and well earned punishment,
the gardener and his wife were banished, together with their two
sons, to a cheap and cheerful black-hole at the fag-end of the
Universe called Eye, on the edge of a bog in the Soke of
Peterborough, where they all reside to this day.
These two souls considered their situation over a cup of tea,
then decided to go straight to Red Rombo, their Shop Steward, who
immediately adjusted a knowledgable frown on his face, before
enquiring from them very politely and in words of one syllable:
What the hell was it all about this time ?
The Shop Steward was not only a wise old owl, who had seen it
all before on the picket lines and factory gates, but also a guy
who knew on which side his bread was buttered.
Red Rombo, being a positive thinker, adhered correctly and
instinctively to the time-served work ethic, that solidarity with
your colleagues and doing right by your workmates is one thing,
but crossing the Boss up there is another kettle of fish
altogether; so he gave them a dollar and pointed them in the
direction of their Branch Secretary, asking them to pass the buck
on to him, then closed the door behind them loudly, and re-lit
his pipe with the No Smoking sign which he peeled from the wall
The Branch Secretary greeted them very politely, asked them to
sit down and offered them two free car-stickers advertising
"Equal Opportunities Year" from his vast stock of 5000, which
Head Office had sent him four and a half years previously but has
been unable to find anyone interested enough to take them off his
They declined his offer graciously, so he proceeded to open a
battered old file which he pulled out from an old wooden filing
cabinet, with the names of the previous Branch Secretaries carved
on the top, with blunt pen-knives.
The Branch Secretary (being a lateral thinker) ran his index
finger slowly and deliberately, down a long list of excuses,
until he found a suitable one.
With a long slow breath which he drew through pursed lips over a
period of one minute and twenty four seconds, he polished his
reading glasses whilst shaking his head slowly, from right to
left and back again, for exactly three and a half times.
It took him another forty seven seconds to put his glasses back
on his nose and curl the hooks over his ears, before he looked
sympathetically at Mr. Adam (that was the gardener's name, didn't
I tell you ?).
He informed Mr Adam (corrupted from Addem - a place name in
Arabia, if you really want to know) and his partner Eve
(registered on her birth certificate as Hhawwa - parents
unknown), that their membership subscriptions were in arrears for
at least a week, which made it impossible for him to do anything
for them within the newly created "Union Rule Book" and the
"Practical Guide for Branch Chairs and Secretaries", and that
their best course of action was to see the RO (which is unionese
for Regional Officer), down in Bishop's Stortford.
It took the Regional Officer seven seconds exactly to establish
that he could not help them -no way- because of the new union-
bashing law, which was introduced by the gurus in the Ministry of
Unemployment for just such an eventuality.
Mr and Mrs Adam felt rather depressed and began to have second
thoughts about continuing their membership in the union, so to
cheer them up, and to banish the daft thought of leaving the
union from their minds, the RO read to them the case of Regina
versus Ardour Scarhill, who was fined 14p plus VAT for leaving
the tap on (in a truffle mine), with three hundred and twenty
nine thousand pounds in legal costs, plus seven and a half
million pounds for contempt of court, because he spat on the
pavement after leaving the courtroom.
The story of Ardour Scarhill's trials and tribulations made Mr
and Mrs Adam giddy with laughter and it left them rolling on the
floor, kicking their legs up in the air. It also cheered them up
to such a ridiculous extent that they paid the week's arrears and
renewed their membership in the union on the spot, giggling
uncontrollably while they signed a new Standing Order Mandate
drawn on their joint account.
The Regional Officer felt so pleased with himself that he
awarded himself on the spot a salary increase of nine percent,
back-dated to the twenty fifth of December of the previous year,
then put his shoes on, ready to take the dog out for a walk,
before sending Mr and Mrs Adam off to see NO (National Officer)
Anne Wibson, the Full Time Officer in charge of the Equal-
Opportunities and Unequal-Discriminations Department, at Head
Office in Wandsworth.
Mrs Wibson considered the matter very carefully for three and a
half seconds, then came to the inescapable conclusion, that since
Mr and Mrs Adam were equally discriminated against and were given
an exactly equal opportunity to be dismissed summarily together,
and without compensation for either of them, she couldn't see how
her Department could help, but asked them not to hesitate to
contact her office again if they felt that she could be of
further assistance, then sent them off to see the Assistant
General Manager, within whose remit, she said, these
She wasn't quite certain what all that meant, but she thought it
sounded correct, and had an official ring to it, as befits the
dignity of her position in the organisation.
The Assistant General Manager heard rumour of the case, so he
applied for instantaneous voluntary redundancy, because he said
he wanted to spend more time with his family; but being a proper
gentleman, he only signed the redundancy documents after asking
someone to pass them on to the General Manager.
The General Manager saw them coming, so he decided there and
then to take twenty eight weeks off work with immediate effect,
as a combined praternity and sick leave (on full pay with
overtime and bonuses), to which he was entitled under the union's
terms and conditions of employment (because he was in
uninterrupted and continuous employment at Head Office for a
The matter was entrusted in the capable hands of Brian, a gem of
a man, but despite that fact, he was also a member of the NEC
(National Executive Council to you and me) and who, everybody
agreed, was sure to do something about the Adam's case, because
he was ever such a nice chap.
Brian told them cheerfully that in his opinion, he/she had a
perfectly legitimate cause for dispute/complaint, and that the
union would do everything in its power (and more), and/or
enable/authorise contingency plans for industrial action, or a
march to Downham Street and a rally in Trafalgar Square, if/when
necessary, to help/assist them; whether their case was ultra-
vires the new union-bashing law or not.
After all, he said, it was for that purpose that our founding
martyrs created the "Society of Turf Employees and Nurserymen"
(or STEN for short).
The union, said Brian, would move heaven/earth in their just
demand and legitimate claim, and would use best collective
practice in the endeavour.
Furthermore, he would see to it that not a single stone was to
be left unturned, and would instruct a firm of solicitors in
Nottingham to take their case to the highest authority in Eden,
or even to ACAS.
Brian stopped for a gulp of stagnant water with a dash of
benzin, from an up-market green bottle, then continued before he
finished swallowing (which made him cough):
...but unfortunately, and what a shame it was, and how it broke
his heart, and oh-dear oh-dear oh-dear, there was a tiny little
snag; because God™ had not yet created ACAS to take them to, and
He had already abolished the Unfair Dismissals Court in Eden,
because God™ decided there was no need to waste taxpayers' money
on an extra tier of legal bureaucracy.
Brian with tears in his heart, deposited Mr and Mrs Adam outside
the door of one of the seven Assistant General Secretaries, who,
Brian was not only certain, but was also sure, and had no doubt
at all, that the AGS would be able to help them, and promptly
left the building to use his free triple luncheon-vouchers, to
which he was fully entitled under the union's terms and
conditions of employment, which were drafted when he was
chairperson of the Union's Terms and Conditions of Employment
The AGS, a Mr Jack Scar (née Ass), an idiot by profession and
qualification, and a moron by many years of practical experience,
decided to take early retirement on full pay (with overtime) and
a nice lump-sum of 247,000 pounds (to which he was legally
entitled under the union's terms and conditions of employment),
rather than be involved in this messy affair, which he could not,
for the life of him, understand.
The AGS found it difficult to understand the case which Mr and
Mrs Adam brought before him, even after the gardener and his wife
had tried their best to explain it to him seven times.
It was four times actually but don't forget that Holy Babylonian
Bull which requires the number seven, or forty, or multiples of
one or the other, or combinations thereof, to be used in all such
holy Babylonian stories.
The gardener also used seven sketches plus a completed, signed
and witnessed Accident (Workplace) Schedule of forty numbered
paragraphs, and had asked a Speech Therapist mate of his to help
explain the incident to the AGS in words of not more than seven
(nudge/wink) syllables, but all to no avail.
Though the AGS never did understand what on earth Mr and Mrs
Adam were chuntering on about, he nevertheless found it
necessary, in the circumstances, to weep a little for their
benefit, at what he thought was, apparently, a predicament.
He was rather annoyed to have to do that, because he was saving
his tears to let flow during an after-dinner speech at the end of
the following August, which he was to read from a script prepared
by his worship the General Secretary, to mark the retirement of
the General Secretary himself, and asked his typist to take them
to the top floor to see the Gen. Sec.
His gracious mightiness Keith Gillmore, the General Secretary (a
big pillar of society), was drafting an ad hoc (and off the cuff)
speech, which he was invited to deliver at a solidarity rally in
Hyde Park, in honour of a visiting Brother from abroad, so there
was not even a weight challenged (i.e. fat) chance of sparing any
of his precious time to deal with such a trivial matter; instead,
he asked his Private and Personal Secretaries to enquire if the
gardener and his wife were interested in raising the level of
their consciousness, by buying a copy of "The Ragged Trousered
Philanthropists", autographed by himself with a rubber stamp.
The General Secretary also instructed his Filing and Clerical
Secretaries to fetch him a nice cup of tea with a dash of milk
and two lumps of sugar, and a chocolate biscuit please, from his
private kitchen, and while they were at it:
To tell the Assistant General Secretary (Redundancies and Non-
Industrial Disputes Department), if they can find him...
To tell the National Executive Council member, when he comes
back from his lunch later that evening...
To tell the Chairperson of the Finance and General Purposes Sub-
Committee, as soon as he has finished polishing his putter and
packed away the practice balls...
To tell one of the fourteen General Managers in the Records
Department (Arrears -Direct Debit- Office), when he comes back
from his holiday in Menorca...
To tell the Deputy Assistant General Manager (Industrial
Disputes -Cases Pending- Section), when she returns from her
To tell the Acting Director of the Membership (Agricultural)
Office, if he decides to use his flexi-time and comes to work in
the office that day...
To tell one of the Supervisors in the Subscriptions (Overdue)
Section, when he has a few minutes to spare...
To tell the appropriate Regional Officer (Parks and Amenities -
Division A) when he returns from walking the dog...
To tell the Branch Secretary (Eastern Eden Regional Council -
Branch 0861), when BT have re-connected his telephone...
To advise Mr and Mrs Adam to go and discuss the matter with Red
Rombo their Shop Steward, who enquired from them politely:
WHAT the hell was it all about THIS time...
We have now reached the point in this epic when you should begin
to become a little confused...
Because, if you had to ask yourself the silly question of:
"How come God™ could buy top soil from Doncaster, when He had
not yet created that ridiculous place ?"
...without getting a silly answer, then it is obvious that you
have not yet fully understood the mechanics of creation.
The silly trick, if you were daft enough to want to create an
infinite Universe all in one go with a totally ridiculous big-
bang, is to beg from someone an infinite amount of energy to
create your universe in the first instance, then to borrow from
your friendly loan-shark infinite amount of energy (again) to
squeeze it all into one enormous black-hole, then steal from
someone else infinite amount of energy (one more time) to blow
your universe out to smithereens !
But you haven't finished yet !
Because only after you have created your universe, may you
create a law of conservation of energy. Any attempt to do it the
other way round, by having a law of conservation of energy before
you start creating your universe, or for that matter, creating
even a small baby; would end up like your sons' contributions to
the housekeeping budget, i.e. exactly zero.
If, however, you are like me, one of those stubborn people who
will not accept this explanation as the acknowledged easy cop-out
solution to this utterly insoluble problem, without such little
trivia as evidence and proof and other small matters like that,
and if you were smart enough, or nosey enough, to want to know
the real truth about how God™ created the whole universe without
costing Him a penny, then you need go no further, or waste your
time and money reading books on the subject of the history of
The solution to the baffling puzzle of creating a universe for
free, is not only patently obvious, but also incredibly easy to
understand. This becomes perfectly clear when you realise that
one of God's™ many attributes is that He is a bit of a
mathematician, and very fond of using His Atari stone tablet, and
a small pocket calculator.
It so happened, that while He was doodling one day on some
tablets of stone with hammer and chisel, and using a neat little
programmable calculator (TI-59 if you really must know), He
discovered that the sum of all the vectors under a complete
sinusoidal curve is exactly zero. (oh yes).
So He came to the rather obvious conclusion, that if He was to
give nothingness (which is all there was, where the universe
stands today, apart from a small black hole where Peterborough is
now), just a tiny little nudge, then He would start the process
of creation going, and a whole brand new Universe as tiny as He
wished, or as huge as He liked, would then oscillate, between a
positive maximum and a negative minimum, and back again, and
again, and again ad nauseam.
God™ was in no hurry of course and had bags of time on His hands
all night, since He could not go to sleep because of the crying
baby; so instead of creating the whole shooting match in one big
bang (as some silly people claim, because they haven't the
foggiest idea how He did it), He decided to start the process
going by throwing a pair of dice, to see who, or what, shall be
the first thing to be created.
The lucky punter was a single solitary unit of nothingness, a
tiny little non-entity, which measured exactly nothing and was
too small to see even with the naked eye.
He took this non-entity from His vast store of nothingness and
gave it a tiny little push to start it oscillating, which made it
exist for the first time ever. He then asked it if it had any
preferences for a name, but the newly born little entity was
neutral about that subject, so He called it neutron.
Being completely neutral, as any non-aligned little country, or
any self respecting sit-on-the-fence and middle-of-the-road
political party would tell you; is a very dangerous and unstable
position in which to be; because it gets shot at from both sides
of the fence, just prior to being run over by a juggernaut; with
the consequence that it either merges with another party, or
splits apart (to name but one process).
Another example of nothingness (or unstable neutrality), might
be a razor blade trying desperately hard to balance itself with
perfect neutrality on its sharp edge, with the weight on the
right of the edge being perfectly balanced by the weight (in
permanent and loyal opposition), on the left.
It does not take a genius to work out from this analogy (even
though analogies are never perfect), that it takes next to no
effort at all (zero force in fact) to make the razor blade fall
over to the far right, or to the loony left; though being a total
gumby, it usually plays it boringly safe, and topples over to the
extreme right, time and time and time and time again (four times,
at least, and the fifth time is confidently being predicted to be
a virtual certainty).
And so it was with our newly born neutral friend, the neutron.
But its boringly neutral and, therefore, unstable state, was soon
put right, by having a tiny part of itself shoot straight out and
go into orbit around the central, much heavier part (by a factor
of 1836 times, if you really want to know).
God™ observed the trick which the neutron had performed, "and He
saw that it was good", so He named the central part proton,
because it was the prototype of all others like it that would
come afterwards, and called the orbiting little monkey, electron,
because it elected to leave the matrimonial home.
He also decided to call the two pieces when they are living
together in harmony (albeit at a respectable distance apart), a
hydrogen atom, for reasons better known to Himself.
God™ gave the dice a couple of shakes then tossed them again, to
see whose turn it was to be created next.
This proves conclusively that Dr Albert of planet earth was only
joking really with his friend Max when he said to him, while the
two of them were strolling in the garden on a sunny Saturday
afternoon, that "Gott™ Würfelt nicht".
When God™ weighed the two bits resulting from the trial divorce
(on precision bathroom scales), He found, to His utter amazement,
that the total weight of the two bits, was ever so slightly less
than the weight of the original neutron.
God™ started looking hard for the missing bit, because it was
necessary for Him to enter its weight into the ledger, before the
auditors came round to inspect the books.
He had no difficulty at all in finding the missing little bit,
because although it was moving at a terrifyingly high velocity
(at the speed of light in fact, or more accurately, the Universal
Speed Criterion), it was also shining ever so brightly, which He
thought would be rather useful for taking photos, so He named it
He caught the photon and put it on His precision bathroom
scales, confidently expecting it to weigh the same as the missing
mass, but to His utter astonishment, He found that the weighing
machine failed to register any weight at all, even after He re-
calibrated the scales seven times.
With the annual stock-taking coming round soon, He had to do
something about the missing mass, otherwise, the auditors and the
Director of Public Prosecutions (when he could take a little time
from his other, more pressing engagements) would have a field day
in filing plaints in the district court.
God™ came (correctly) to the conclusion that by flitting about
at a terrifying speed, the photon must have used a wee bit of
energy, so, using His little TI-59 programmable calculator, He
worked out a neat little formula, equating the energy used by the
photon, with the missing mass and the terrifying speed.
That satisfied the auditors perfectly, even though they didn't
have a clue what in heaven He was on about; and the DPP (who had
a lesser understanding of physics than Sir Nigel Lamond about the
green shoots of economic miracles, peeping from around the next
corner but one), heaved a huge sigh of relief for not having to
prepare yet another case (in the public interest), and that gave
him more time to do the things he enjoyed doing best, and an
excuse not to kerb his desire for driving ever so slowly on the
pavement in his Skoda.
It took an awful long time for Dr Albert from planet earth, and
a number of scientists from other planets round about, to cotton-
on to God's™ formula, which was simply: E = m c c
That means (without boring you with details of the units used in
the formula) that energy is equal to the mass of a matter,
multiplied by the universal speed criterion once, then once more
for luck, and has nothing whatever to do with cricket.
But if you insist on being bored with detail, all right then:
1 gramme of matter (which is not a lot in terms of meat from the
butchers, or even in terms of soya beans, if you happen to be a
vegan; is equal to 2150000000000 calories (honest).
How else do you think you can blow up a whole city (in a just
cause), by the inefficient use of not more than 3% of about as
much material as you can carry in your bombag ! eh ?
Some lesser mortals, however, remained obdurate, and insisted,
even as unto this day, that the little bit of missing mass, is
some echo of energy left over from a "big bang", in which God™
created the universe all in one go, without ever having to
satisfy themselves or anybody else, just where He got an ear-
muff, and all the stuff in the universe from; but to my mind,
that is a load of tripe and no mistake and you best ignore it.
Great many other hydrogen atoms came into being by exactly the
same free-of-charge process using the same pair of dice, and is
going on continuously, and spontaneously (because God™ soon
became fed up with shaking and throwing the dice), everywhere in
space, and you can take my word on that.
Unless you have led a very sheltered life, you should know by
now that dice rolling is rather unpredictable, unless you happen
to be a croupier, or a crooner who owns the casino.
It is, therefore, rather obvious that in some parts of space
there will be a handful more atoms coming into being than in
other locations, hence the little ripples of unevenness that you
see, if you look out ever so carefully for them, and particularly
if you use a space telescope which costs a fortune to design and
have installed into it, a bent mirror.
These ripples caused quite a lot of excitement in some
scientific clubs lately, where the club members spend an awful
lot of time praising and congratulating each other grudgingly,
and praying singly and in groups, that the ripples might have
something, anything (please God) to do with their hilarious (if
it wasn't so mindlessly stupid) big-bang theory.
The more hydrogen atoms are produced, the more they push away
the other bits of rubbish and expand the space around them;
rather like a rubber balloon (if you can imagine one without a
skin - because analogies are never perfect), would increase in
size as more air is introduced into it, which is why the universe
is expanding with linear acceleration in every direction all the
time; and that is also why every point in God's™ universe seems
(from its own point of view), to be at the centre of the whole
universe; just like each and every single point on the surface of
the earth is itself (like every other point), at the centre of
that surface of the globe.
Or did you really think that everything in the universe is
moving away from you, because by the most amazing coincidence in
the whole history of God's™ creation, you just happen to be
sitting right at the very point, which just happens to be the
centre of an exploding universe ?!
If the entire universe (according to the silly big-bangers) was
concentrated in one dimensionless point (ie literally, the mother
and father of all black holes), how did you and I and all the
suns and planetary systems and galaxies and all the other bits of
rubbish within this amazingly massive universe manage to escape
from that primordial blackhole then ? eh ?
If the temperature at the centre of a "big-bang" at the time of
an "all-in-one" creation, according to the gropers in the dark
and the by-God™-and-by-guess workers (ie the big-bangers) was a
trillion gillion zillion degrees kelvin (at least !), as far as
they could guess from the weather forecast by working backward
from the heat wave over the Dogger Bank last week, then why did
Adam need to wear a fig leaf for warmth (it was written in the
Big Book of Almighty Truths, therefore it must be true), just a
few days after the universe was created, when it was (supposedly)
so damnably hot? Eh?
Forget it, there was no such thing as a "big-bang" creation.
Don't let the big-bangers insult your intelligence with it.
The fact of the matter is, that from the huge number of hydrogen
atoms produced by the highly cost-effective process of producing
everything without really creating anything, came the suns, the
planets, the floppy disks, all the baked beans that you can eat,
the cat next door, and you and me.
The whole business began, when God™ gave nothingness a little
push (one tiny parcel of nothing at a time), or if you want to be
technical about, just one hydrogen atom in a space the size of St
Paul's Cathedral, over the course of one year; which doesn't seem
to be a lot by everyday human standards of space and time, but
repeated over the whole of space, and in God's™ own time, is an
awful lot by any standard.
That is exactly how the whole of God's™ universe was created,
and continues to be created, and increasing in size, a little bit
at a time.
Since God™ designed the tiny primordial components of His
universe to oscillate between a positive state on one side of
zero, to an equal and opposite state, on the other side of zero,
therefore, the sum total of God's™ creation remains zero,
without, as it were, having to produce a rabbit out of a hat or
"the heaven and earth out of the word of his mouth", as some
magicians, the clerical fraternity, some second-rate
cosmologists, and one-eyed astronomers would have you believe.
This satisfies the law of conservation of energy perfectly, a
law which God™ created even before He started His amazingly
simple project of bringing the universe into being, at no cost
whatever to Himself.
Since the sum total of this oscillation is exactly zero, it is
perfectly clear, therefore, that God™ has the honour of being the
first in recorded history, who managed to obtain anything from
and for nothing; except disk magazine editors and public domain
punters, who don't count.
Easy really when you know how, but when it came to filling the
Universe with people, God™ decided to have a bit of fun.
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.