Today began with two paracetamol. Now I don’t know about you but when it comes to killing those heavy duty hangover pains, paracetamol does it for me. In fact, I managed to break my arm once, and, after the operation, I was subjected to hitherto unbeknown levels of pain. Now the hospital was very good and they did all they could to shut me up including two injections of opiate based pain killers. The thing is with these is that you still feel the pain but you’re not that bothered about it because you feel so good anyway. To my simple mind, however, that is an ineptly named pain killer. For me, a pain killer is something that makes the pain go away. After two days of different pain killing cocktails ala Mick, the nurse turned up with a paracetamol the size of a golf ball. “It’s the only thing we haven’t tried,” she said mistrustfully, peering into my glazed pupils, and proceeded to stuff it down my throat. After the agony of swallowing it and fifteen minutes wait – bliss, it really worked. As I said, paracetamol really does it for me, which brings me to my first sad thought of the day, that if Michael had stuck to a proper pain killer like paracetamol, which stops your pain without stopping you caring, then he’d probably still be with us today.

Which brings me to my second thought, which really just goes to show how effective the fucking media is, I too, am now obsessing about Michael.  I was just watching telly and saw congress actually standing in remembrance of Michael. Now don’t  get me wrong, I think Michael deserves all the reverence he gets, but we are talking about a person known for substance abuse, had questionable relationships with children – and no, we don’t want to go there – and is a pauper. These are all values which are not exactly highly revered in American society and yet here we see the pinnacle of American society revering just that. This I take to be empirical evidence of the ensuing insanity of American, and, dare I say it, Western society. Well, so be it.