Let's talk about the end of everything

Let’s talk about the end of everything
There is someone, through fear of lack of fossil fuel has bought a canoe and filled it with tinned things.
I will probably go that way.
Tomorrow I will buy a cross bow. I will make a schedule: Tuesdays- kill crows and squirrels in community gardens Wednesday – find fallen masonary to build a bunker
My friend John Spooner made a show called ‘the ethics of progress’, it was all about application and development of quantam physics. In case you are interested, super positioning is the process of entangling two particles.
Basically, the maths means that they’ve proved that if we map a body, transport something from A to B without moving anything in-between, we will have disproved the soul and that will be excellent.
And I know I know, the first person to be transported will probably die but if you weigh the body after death they say it’s a little lighter anyway and the scientists aren’t just Jamie Oliver dropping spaghetti onto scales.
They’ve done experiments in lab galleries - family members waiting in biscuit coloured refectories talking about the cracks that let the light in.
And hearing the statistic isn’t reassuring the weight of the soul is 21 grams scribbled on the back of TV Times subscriptions.
And even in the hospitals, the interns are snogging by the Xray machine, the married doctors are fucking in cupboards trying to tessellate disbelief.
And if we keep developing the explaining, and train explainers to articulate for the theorists it will all get very academic and evidenced, and that will be excellent.
The National Geographic will have a new nostalgia – photographic documentation, social networking quotes supporting the argument that the defiance of our ancestors insisted on investigating pulmonary tectonics, how the volcano grounded everything, left us staring at static, at each others faces, the space in-between experiments,
our reliance on excellent tinned things.