The Hidden War
Several years ago, I worked on a contract in Central London (That’s in Great Britain, an island off the coast of America) and I used to commute to work by train (that’s a bit like a long chauffeur-driven car on rails). Every few weeks or so, people used to commit suicide by hurling themselves under the trains. Generally, these terminal events took place in or around the Crawley or Hayward’s Heath areas. It just so happens that this area was a single line stretch of track and there was no easy way to go around the affected area. The net effect was always massive tailbacks and confusion in the rail network that spread out from the terminals (Hmmm, no pun intended, but weird huh?) affected in London to cover the whole region. This butterfly effect always happened during rush hours and always on weekdays.
I used to curse the departing souls of the selfish imolators to hell, blindly assuming that there was a continual stream of people killing themselves all over the country, and I had just been unfortunate enough to be affected by one of them at random. Now I realise that the imolators were guaranteed their place in heaven (with 72 virgins to cater to their every need, and presumably a free rail-pass for good behaviour). You see, I have penetrated the veil of happenstance to see the evil designs of a master-criminal at work. This spider-like Moriarty figure would never be so crude as to send people to blow up trains and buses (note the public transport links here. I’m not kidding) were he not trying to draw attention away from a more subtle and insidious gambit. One which is – I exaggerate only slightly – equivalent to Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Amin and Pol Pot combined in its cumulative horror.
You see, it all stems from Utilitarianism. As any morally sophisticated person can tell you, in a sentence, utilitarianism is that branch of ethics that seeks to do good by maximising the greatest good for the greatest number of the population. There is an implied calculus of pain in this statement that is being exploited by our criminal mastermind for the punishment and/or education of us infidels. It is easy to deduce the coefficients of this calculus as well. We can see from Newton’s laws that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. One man (or woman)’s death in Haywards heath is roughly equivalent to frustration and irritation for about 50,000 people for about 2 hours. To standardise, we shall call that unit the ‘crawley’ and it’s equal to roughly 100,000 grumble/hours.
We know that around 2 million people attended the march against war in Hyde park, London in Feb 2003. They were in attendance for about 5 hours, giving a total of 10 million grumble hours or 100 crawleys. That is – Osama bin Laden did the equivalent of 1.7 London Bombings without even having to get out of his seat. Multiply this by all of the demonstrations across the globe since then against the war and we have several times the devastation of the twin towers, and all he has to do is sit there, nice and cozy, in his dialysis machine in his cave there in Afghanistan, without moving a muscle. Add to that the huge dissatisfaction of the world with George W. Bush. Lets face it, how many people in the world have not spent at least an hour a week complaining about the wickedness of his regime and the general blindness of the Americans for not noticing, or caring.
It all adds up. If all the people in the world grumbled for just one hour – that would be equivalent to 20 times the September 11 attacks. Doubtless they have done a lot more than that! You’re not including areas of highly crawleyage such as the middle east, and amongst the poor. There’s a few more thousand crawleys for you. I find it shuddersome how this architect of woe has turned the very principle of a just and sane society, the very root and branch of liberal democracy, against us. Is it any wonder that this man has not been found, he needs to hide, to best achieve his nefarious ends. In fact he could achieve them even if he were dead. He’s a lot like Jesus Christ in that respect, a man who he must respect for the countless giga-crawleys of misery he has spread posthumously across the world.
Any relation to any persons past or present is wholely coincidental. Please don’t burn my effigy in the streets.