davidjohntooth

The christmas present you want to send back

Thanks, Putin, but we really don’t want the nuclear missiles you have promised to send to us, even if it’s Christmas wrapped. So we are returning it first-class delivery with DHS and are including our latest invention, The Jitter Bug.

Regards Ukraine, Europe, and the UK.

I am distraught with the quality of the latest photos I have received from the Epstein files. I am far better looking than they make me look. My teddy bears are incandescent and refuse to let me hang them on the wall directly above them.

Regards, The Duke of York. Bugger, I’ve lost that title.

Regards, The Prince of Whales, something fishy about that title. Bugger, I’ve lost that as well.

Regards, The Field Marshal, Bugger Momy never gave me that title. Where’s that bloody servant, Manwell?

Andrew, can I still use that name, bugger

Everyone knows that I am the greatest President that America has ever had, better than anyone, Better than anyone I’ve ever met. They are stuck in my heart, hang on every word I say.

In fact, I am simply the best

Only days until I get the World Peace Prize, but I might send it back and accept the Universe Peace Prize instead.

Regards

DJT

Donald J Trump

Mixed on the turntable

The pedestrian crossing on Abbey Road still looked the same. Marrie held my hand and smiled as she said, ‘It’s such a shame I should have stayed with you for more than just a day, but the music was good, wouldn’t you say. I nodded my head. She was still so pretty, and I was paralysed, almost fell into those big green eyes. The girl of my best friend walked past, and my heart skipped a beat. I wondered if I should tell her how I feel, but if she told him so, I could never face either one again, so I looked away, telling her, would be for another day. It was never about fame, because I realised fame comes and goes, and I know I should say sorry because sometimes the beat is inconsistent, which doesn’t help the dancers be more consistent. Apologies only happen at a later date, most times, much too late. There was a busker on the street corner playing ‘Something’, George was so in love when he wrote the music, thought it would last forever, but time changes everything, and before long, they drifted apart, leaving just the song as a memory before it all went wrong. The busker smiled as he strummed the guitar, then a look of sadness spread over his face as the song took him to another place. I was there when his girl left him for someone new and heard him say to himself as she left, ‘If I had stayed true, I know she wouldn’t be with you .’ An old black man sat on a wooden stool his hands were bent and gnarled but but they moved like magic over the strings of the guitar, dancing in front of him was a girl with a dimple on her chin; she was his babe, and he had his eye on you, the words don’t rhyme, but the music stays true almost as good as Mary loo. The beat was hypnotic; you could play it loud, listen to it alone, or in a crowd.

I don’t mind if you forget I am there, or if most times you share, and please forgive me if I make you cry as you think of a friend that’s long past bye, a girl you once knew, and wonder where it could have gone if you had told her she was the special one. I can take you back in time, be the calendar that used to hang on the wall, the mark your mom put on the wall as you started to grow tall. The tears you cried the day your dog died. He was old, but you hoped Kizzie would live longer than you; but think how he would miss you not knowing where you had gone, he would think you had left him not past on. Please don’t sigh, don’t waste a day. I will always be there if you need me, I will lift you up if you’re down, and fill the room with an incredible sound. Because I am ……………….

I am Music.

The letter you hope you never have to read if your a child: but perhaps we should all write one.

A small section taken from ‘Don’t Ever Forget Me’ It’s a story I wrote about an eleven-year-old girl, who’s grandad dies, but leaves her a cardboard box inside a metal safe. The contents make her cry.

A large cardboard box nestled inside the safe. It was quite heavy, and it took all my strength to lift it onto the worktop directly under the window. I moved my stool closer and raised the lid, not quite knowing what to expect. There was nothing nasty in there, but I still cried. It was full of all the things that I had ever drawn and made. Right from when I was a tiny baby. He had saved even the smallest piece of paper from the first time that I had scribbled with a crayon and the first time that I attempted to spell the word grandad.

As I worked my way to the bottom, my hand touched a large brown envelope. I pulled it out, and there on the front in small, neat letters were five words.

They read. ‘To Rebecca, love from Grandad,’ and I knew what was inside.

Mom found me a long time later, sitting there with the envelope in my hand, still unopened. She took it from me, read the words on the front, and burst into tears, and we put our arms around each other. He was very thoughtful and knew that this day would come. It was his way of saying goodbye.

I opened it much later that night when I was on my own.

Inside was a single piece of A4 paper.

The writing was very neat, so I knew that he must have spent a lot of time and patience writing it. Years spent working in a factory had taken their toll, and despite my poor attempts to convince him otherwise, his hands were in a bad shape.

The few years of retirement had allowed the scars to soften, but they would never heal, and he so resented being clumsy.

The letter read.

‘My dearest Rebecca, I am so sorry that you are reading this letter. I know that I am unable to be with you in person, and I am so sorry for the hurt that you are feeling. But I don’t want you to feel like that.

We have had so many good times. Try to remember them as you grow older, but please don’t grieve for me. Grief will not help you or me, and more than anything, I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy your life.

Just remember this. I have loved you so much and have seen you grow from a tiny baby into a beautiful young girl. Maybe someday, when you’re older, you will understand the pleasure that I have got from being your grandad. Rebecca, although I can’t be with you anymore, I will always be part of you, and If nothing else, remember one thing.

It has been a privilege to have you as my granddaughter.

I have loved you and will love you forever.

Grandad,’ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s twelve months since grandad died, and it still hurts.

Want to live forever, then buy the smart-thread incapsulating pod

AMAZING HOW MOST OF THE SCIENTIFIC FILMS AND BOOKS ABOUT TRANSFERING MEMORIES FROM ONE HUMAN INTO A YOUNGER PERSON OR A REPLACEMENT BODY, EITHER HUMAN OR SYNTHETIC, MISS THE MOST OBVIOUS DRAWBACK, WHICH IS THAT AS THE BODIES AGE, SO DO THE MEMORIES.

THEY LOSE THEIR SHARPNESS AND BECOME INDISTINCT; IT’S NATURE’S WAY OF MAKING AGING EASIER. SO WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT OF TRANSFERRING AN INDISTINCT MEMORY?

BUT THE POD OVERCOMES THIS PROBLEM BECAUSE IT IS FITTED TO HUMANS FROM THE MOMENT THEY ARE BORN. IT IS MICROSCOPIC IN SIZE AND COPIES THE SIGNALS TRANSMITTED TO THE BRAIN INTO A CLOUD SYSTEM. MOST OF US, EVEN PEOPLE WITH A GOOD MEMORY, WILL FIND THAT THEY DETERIORATE OVER TIME. THE SHARPNESS WE EXPERIENCE FROM EMOTIONS WHEN WE COME INTO THIS WORLD IS INTENSE. EVERY SMELL, TOUCH, SOUND, SIGHT, EXPERIENCE, GOES ONTO A BLANK CANVAS. THE POD COPIES AND RETAINS ALL THOSE MOMENTS.

SO WHEN YOUR LIFE ENDS, YOU HAVE EVERY MEMORY YOU HAVE EVER MADE. BUT WHERE DO YOU PUT THOSE MEMORIES? PERHAPS BY THE TIME THE POD IS DEVELOPED, THAT QUESTION WILL BE RESOLVED.

BUT DO YOU REALLY WANT TO USE SOMETHING SO BIZARRE?

I HAVE STARTED TO CONSIDER IF THOSE ELECTRICAL SURGES THAT CARRY ALL THOSE EMOTIONS GO SOMEWHERE THAT IS BEYOND OUR UNDERSTANDING INTO SOMETHING THAT STORES THEM FOR ETERNITY, AND NOTHING IS LOST.

WONDER IF A COLLECTION OF STORED MEMORIES IS ANOTHER NAME FOR A SOUL.

HOPE THERE IS AN ALDI THERE SO I CAN GET MY FIX OF A BOTTLE OF JAMMIE RED AT £5..99

That’s the Thing

That’s the thing, I was born in Balsall Heath in a back-to-back halfway down an alley where Peaky Blinder sometimes walked past. There was a cobbled yard guarded by a marmalade one-eyed cat with a knot in its tail. People said, when it was put there, you could hear it squale (Birmingham for squeal)for miles around, even on the other side of town. Its owner said it was the right thing to do, but some said it was because he caught it eating his favourite stew. Billy said it used to chase its tail, so it stopped him spinning round and disappearing into a hole in the ground.

The shop on the corner sold everything from a ball of string to a Micky Fin, another name for a bottle of gin. Nobody paid for things right away; they left that for another day. Instead, everything was on the tick; only the rich paid quick. There was a long list on the window that Billy said was written in blood, containing the names of people who couldn’t pay, that would change when the Peaky Blinders knocked on their door, and they ended up on the floor.

The pub on the corner had been hit by a German Bomb, Dad said it was to weaken our resistance, and now it was just a pile of bricks. Lots of men would cry as they walked past, but it didn’t last. There was another pub a hundred yards further on, and their loyalty was soon gone.

The bomb building was my playground when I was small; all I needed was a tin can and a bent spoon. It was a time when hours lasted forever, and your imagination took you to places you could never return to when you left your childhood behind, no matter how much you whined.

The cellar flooded every time it rained, and at certain times in the year, it became full of frogs that croaked when you opened the door. How they got their, I never knew, but there was far more than just a few. When the frogs left, the rats would take over. We could never afford a dog, so I called the largest one Rover. Billy said that’s how the cat lost his eye fighting with a rat over a steak and kidney pie.

Dad was really ill most of the time, so we never had any money but I had the most important thing a human can have ‘imagination’ and the love of my parents, how I wished when I was older that I could have given them more, my biggest regret in life is that you can’t pass things back because my mom and dad died with nothing.

That’s the Thing.

The one major concept that DJ Trump is getting right and every country should be doing it

So, what is it? Every country should try to be self-sufficient because inequality causes famine, war, and a sense of inequality. DJT is trying to bring things that were made abroad back into the United States, especially manufacturing, because for a long time, products were imported from many other countries, but especially China. And now he has arranged all these mineral deals in different parts of the world. Quite clever.

Lots of countries have talked about expanding their self-sufficiency, but most of the time, it’s just talk. The UK has had a succession of governments promising to change its reliance on imports, but things seem to be going in the opposite direction.

For instance, we have some of the worst water companies in the world, the waterways are polluted, we lose millions of gallons of water a year through leaks, but the directors still get massive profits instead of getting a prison sentence. We need to grow more of our own food, but the incentive to do this is being eroded. We don’t store gas anymore. And oil is being suppressed, I like the idea of wind farms and solar panels, but at the back of my mind is the what if? a new type of cheap energy comes along and we have to dismantle the wind farms and solar panels, this is when you become a traveler (scrap merchant). And what has happened to our manufacturing sector, because it’s not there. When I started as an apprentice toolmaker (1957), there were block advertisements in every newspaper from firms desperate to attract skilled engineers. (Yes, I know it’s an age thing to mention how good the past was, and that the music was better.) Because of my age, I don’t care anymore.

Message to the UK government. Become self-sufficient or face the consequences.

In the future, the Molecular Cooking Pod

It was inevitable that when people stopped cooking food at home and either went out for food or had it delivered, science would eventually find a way to make it at home with minimal effort. This is where you pre-order your Molecular Cooking Pod. The delivery date and price are pending. But it will be within the next eighty years. But then, you will be the envy of your neighbors.

To the question that everyone asks, how does it work? It fits in the space vacated by the washing machine and can make a complete meal for six, including dessert and wine, in just fifteen minutes. And all you have to do is explain what you want, and a holographic image appears on the work surface, which you can vary to suit your individual requirements.

Everything is made of atoms, containing electrons, protons, and neutrons. The pod manipulates these to vary the desired meal. I could go into detail, but Match of the Day is on in one hour and my Jammy red wine from Alde is just reaching room temperature. Plus I would have to look up my science notes from Erdington College when I was eighteen,

You do realize everything will be made this way in the future, Scary, isn’t it?

Life on Mars

Life on Mars is a TV series that was made a long time ago and is currently available to stream or possibly to watch on BBC iPlayer ( this may be incorrect as it’s Saturday night and my level of concentration is poor anyway, as I normally listen to music). Where was I? Oh, I am still here. It’s 2006, and Sam Tyler, a Detective, is involved in a car accident and wakes up in the year 1973 and finds he is still working for the police.

Has he time-traveled? Is he in a coma that he can’t break out of?

It’s a very clever storyline with lots of twists, cleverly arranged, and the backdrop from that period is very well done.

It’s a slow burner, but well worth spending time watching.

So the Prince has been caught with his trousers down and has been stripped of nearly all his titles, but still lives in a massive house with his ex-wife, Sarah. Why do two people need a house that can hold twenty?

And who pays the rent? I do, and sixty million other taxpayers. Call me mean, but I know a prefab in Portobella that has just become vacant, with off-road parking for a small car, a small fish pond (gold-fish bowl), and really good neighbors, apart from Biffo Floyd, the ex-boxer who hates Royals. But as long as you adopt a black country accent as soon as you can, you will be fine. Oh, keep out of the way of the Scottish man, Mac Donnald Hammish, he hates people with a black country accent.

I will make the arrangement on Monday, and to help you even more, I will look after that big old house for you free of charge.

Where does deep space end

I have read some of the information regarding deep space and what happens as it expands, and none of it makes any sense. So what does it expand into? Well some say nothing, what does nothing mean, and what is beyond nothing. I sometimes have this quite unnerving feeling that life is not how we have been led to believe. Help.

Prince Andrew has given up his Royal title and stated that it was voluntary and in the best interests of the country. One of my friends who has a tool sharpening company, told me that he has quoted for sharpening a very old axe with a Royal Crest on it, and it was a rush job……. I wonder.

So the two world leader’s DJT and Putin, are to meet again in an effort to end the war in Ukraine, but like the previous meetings, this may only extend it.

So advanced it may seem impossible but one day this is how we could make an AI (advanced individuals) or anything.

Most things wear out because their surfaces rub together; it’s commonly known as friction and is almost impossible to eliminate. Forget about gradual steps and conventional logic, let’s take a hyperjump. That’s what John Smith did. His AI was built from billions of minuscule round spheres that use positive and negative magnetism to prevent contact with each other. By varying the position and strength of the current, it’s possible to create movement that is totally fluid and able to produce any shape. Then, each sphere has intelligence added to it so it can control direction, thought, and reasoning. Then consider moving the spheres around when needed and stacking their memory and intellect. So that they increase their abilities by the number of spheres used. Thoughts and memories are passed from one to the other through a type of electric current modeled on the way the human brain works.

Quite frightening, but the way things are moving, it’s going to be at least another two or three years before we all become obsolete, so drink as much red wine as possible and relish the fact that they can’t.

Over the years, I have become quite a connoisseur of red wine and have now upgraded to Jammy Red at Liddles or Aldi. It is a bit more expensive at £5.99 a bottle, but at eighty-three, I may not need many more of them.

I wonder if I send an email to Donald Trump suggesting my upgrade and where to get them, he would offer me a pardon for all the terrible things I said about him…….. or even a holiday in that big place he hardly uses ‘The Whitehouse’.