DF 55 - The Ivory Hunter Hunter
And for this special occasion...Dear neighbours of mine, we're centuries, light years apart. Regular readers will make the obscure and cryptic connections but first timers can use the search engine on the front page if you are baffled by any particular reference.
Regarding the recent 'Symbolic Beheading of the Ivory Hunter by the Ivory Hunter Hunter', as shown exclusively on CTV (Caramba Television), to be honest I only wanted his teeth, but it was much easier to simply decapitate him. So I took off his head with a razor-wire garrotte. It probably hurt a bit but what the heck; I could have surprised him with a puppy and that would have been really cruel.
Ivory poachers' teeth, you see, are vital ingredients in an ancient Weirdistan potion. When mixed with sherbet and imminently-extinct rhino tears, boiled in vodka and badgers' vomit, then left to cool in the back room of a Chinese Herbalist's Emporium, the resultant medicine - if painted on your genitals, poured into your navel or squirted up your nostrils through an aerosol spray - will prove to be most efficacious in ridding you of demons for up to 24 hours.
Dear neighbour of mine, we're centuries, light years apart. Have you considered the placebo effect? Could it be that your condition improves because you believe it will, and not as a result of ripping tusks and horns from healthy animals? Of course, like the meat in our supermarkets, your product arrives neatly packed and far from the squealing abattoir. Such a bland process is not on offer to your donors, who gave their lives involuntarily and in unspeakable terror in order to provide your most efficacious medicine or stimulant; leaving their families (yes they do have families) heartbroken and people like me disgusted and vengeful.
So long as customers continue to purchase the product then the slaughter will continue until there are no more elephants or rhino; extinction is on the horizon - that is plain to see.
And it seems there is nothing that advanced societies can do; being limited by their nauseatingly obsequious approach to neighbouring but asynchronously developed cultures; those with power, wealth, tantrums and disproportionate influence. The poachers escape with their treasure and all we find are the rotting carcasses.
Therefore the end users must be the new target. You are so much easier to destroy; grazing in the open, your senses dulled by tradition.
Dear neighbour of mine, we're centuries, light years apart. But, sadly, time is desperately short for these ancient, magnificent creatures. I remember well during the Roman Inquisition and of course the Dissolution of the Monasteries how we would rip members from torsos, tongues from mouths and confessions from innocents. Introduce a white hot poker to eye or anus. Behead apostates, heretics and disagreeable types. Burn witches (and alchemists), and while we we're at it, burn alleged witches, as well as those that looked, smelled or sounded like witches. Inevitably - given their powers - some of them survived and are still practising in Parliament and on Television today. But we are subtler these days. We have grown out of those barbaric primitive ways; you have not.
In our neck of the woods there is even a growing awareness of the fact that man created god in order to cater for the human spirit and with that knowledge - wasn't it obvious all along? - comes the thorny and mercurial (yes, I know) responsibility for care and development to our tribal spirits, made all the more difficult by the recent discovery of Darwin's missing last chapter.
Dear neighbour of mine, I know you're trying to catch up and it seems as if Zeno's paradox is thwarting every effort, but - trust me - it's just a mathemagical trick. Just shift your position and all will become clear.
Copyright © Ian Gillan 2014