Has the free bird flown over the cuckoo’s nest?

Twitter Watch Vol 12: That was the week that wasn’t.

Twitter Watch Vol 12: That was the week that wasn’t.

Yes kids, there really was a cartoonish play on words and pleasingly named man such as Yuri Andropov! Here immortalised on the cover of Time Magazine on the date of John F Kennedy’s assassination 19 years earlier and here in 1982, taking over as the sixth paramount leader of the Soviet Union following the death of Leonid Brezhnev. Picture courtesy of and with thanks to www.ebay.com

During this past weekend I conjured up a number of articles now held here for posterity within my archives and they mirror the contents of the frazzled mind of their creator. The archives are free so the decision is yours, but please don’t come to me demanding answers as I don’t have any.

But I did posit the notion that I’m as happy as I can be when sat cross legged in some kind of middle aged awkward lotus position as I hunch and crouch over an old wooden table, and write to my hearts content as not two feet away from me, my beautiful son plays his damn PlayStation in his own damned bubble and with the world firmly shut out of the equation for the day. As happy as I can be. Expressive. Talkative. Trying to make someone smile or laugh. Be a nice human being and some loving company. So that’s me as I pen these words, sat cross legged akin to morning assembly at junior school, drinking tea, twisting writing ideas inside the confines of my frazzled mind, whilst catching the occasional glimpse of my beautiful son before we each return to our cosy little worlds.

Saturday’s anxiety driven faux pas has been forgiven by “Buns” it seems, and nothing signifies my redemption more than murdering the past 125 years of Russian history together. To my son’s baffled bemusement, we managed to bastardise the Romanovs and Rasputin, via a Boney M song through to the pleasing realisation that there really was a human being named “Andropov”, that another Russian President had a ginormous red birthmark on the top of his head, but according to Buns “The Queen wouldn’t meet him” before dissolving into naming other Russian Presidents, ancient and modern, Breznev to “the pissed one” as we finally, jointly, came to the conclusion that (a) we were having a wholly out of our depth conversation in the middle of a mid-life failure of memory and (b) our beautiful son loved knowing that there really had been a human being named “Andropov” and that we were both squarely and utterly mad.

Well I certainly am, but welcome anyway to another of my Twitter Watch Specials of a past week that wasn’t. My name is Stephen and I’ll be your humble narrator for this passage through the absurdity and the carnival of wonders that is the madhouse otherwise known as Twitter. The confirmation of my name above will probably be the last word of truth spoken in this article, but at least I have the freedom to speak these untruths. What is truth anyway? The above two paragraphs could be entirely the creation of my tiny mind. How do you know them to be true? How do you know that I’m telling you the truth when I state categorically that I’ve written about the owner of Twitter at some length and want to cheer for the “free speech absolutist” but can’t, and that this greatly, greatly perturbs me? In my archives, that’s how.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 1.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 2.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 3.

Elon Musk has fascinated me for a long time now but for brevity: he’s either Clarence Worley or he’s Drexl Spivey and I’m bored with waiting to find out who. He’s either the True Romance inspired lover of Elvis Presley or he’s the super villain of a masterpiece in the cinematic and theatrical “film” played out before us in the Matrix of our lives. My blood curdles at the thought of the creations from inside his “Neuralink” organisation. My mind wanders conspiratorially toward the One Party State of “Global Citizens” and whatever the crazies may have you believe, 2+2 still equals 4, and it’s hardly a conspiracy when, as so sonically described by Elbow in their beautiful Leaders of the Free World song “it’s easy to ignore until they’re knocking on the door of your homes”. The requirements of being a citizen of the globe aren’t metaphorically rat a tat tatting on your front door.

They’ve been inside your home all along.

But Elon’s an absolutism in regards to free speech right?

Boy did I cheer for that man who still refuses to return my telephone calls to arrange a 1–1 to watch True Romance together when he said that oft quoted line about being an absolutist as regards free speech. Alas my cheers fell upon my own deaf ears it seems.

The madhouse of Twitter has been awash with discussions as to the merits of free speech, it’s dangers, the way this ridiculous notion has split the camps once more and brilliantly hilariously, the hard right are the defenders of the freedoms so cherished of the once hard left. Left and Right in politics is as much a sideshow as the theatrically pleasing names and characters in the Matrix of Elon Musk or Yuri Andropov, but an absolutist as to the very firmament of the freedom of speech is actually a censor?

Say it ain’t so Elon.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 4.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 5.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 6.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 7.

Please don’t be distracted by the wails and gnashing of teeth from people debating whether or not to subscribe for a blue coloured tag at $8 a month, or of the reinstated accounts and their collective “I’m Back!” tweets. I’m sincerely pleased they are, as I am for those poor wretches forever flung into “Twitter Jail” and their coded words upon release. So I was pleasingly intrigued when, as with thousands of others miscreants and malcontents who’d been banned and censored by Twitter previously, David Icke rejoined and posted two tweets to the best of my limited recollection. The first was to say it was indeed him, a confirmation and proof of life if you will, and that he and his team are requesting the return and reinstatement of his old account, whilst his second was a naughty “tester of the free speech waters” and a respectful but honest takedown of the platform’s owner, Elon Musk.

So they banned him again!

Now this leaves me in somewhat of a quandary and in the middle of a lovers tiff! You see, I want to believe Elon Musk is Elvis Presley, a small part of the protection of the “humanity” he always, without fail, refers to. But I don’t believe him. Nor do I believe some of David Icke’s writings. They are vast, wide ranging, thought provoking, a lot is difficult to believe, and we haven’t even broached the subject of the inter dimensional beings he believes controls the human entities we see lecturing us constantly from the telescreens of doom in the corner of the room! The moon is made of cheese and nothing, absolutely nothing, is as real as the unreality of the strawberry fields of a Beatles song. Right? We live in a holographic universe within an electrical Matrix or simulation and nothing is real as it cannot be real. The laws of quantum physics dictate (apparently) that the solid object you’re holding as you read this article is as impossible as the wooden table upon which this laptop sits, and which couldn’t exist again if you apply the laws of quantum physics.

I’ve read 15 of David’s 20+ books and I admire that grey haired wizard from the Isle of Wight immensely. But he’s banned again by the free speech absolutist platform of Twitter and he’s now banned from entering 26 countries in the European Union after he was branded a Level 3 terrorist threat. Blimey! I clearly need to choose my authors more wisely in the future and you, yes you, may well be thinking the very same thing and that’s ok. It’s the same freedom of thought and speech as mine but David Icke isn’t allowed that privilege on Twitter?

Where’s the absolutism of free speech gone Elon?

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 8.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 9.

That was the week that wasn’t, courtesy of the madhouse that is www.twitter.com Part 10.

So that was the week that wasn’t on Twitter and the madhouse you check into and, much like an Eagles hotel, you can never leave. I’ve been in my own personal happy place this afternoon and beside my excitably loud and beautiful son. I hope that should you ever read this message in a bottle from the bottom of the Matrix, that this distress beacon of apathetic hope reaches you in your happiest of places too.

“One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” (1975). Picture courtesy of and with thanks to www.behance.net

Thanks for reading. There’s over 500 articles now within the cave of wonders that is my archives. Here the three most recently published musings and ramblings within The Matrix:

Sunday night report from the Sports Desk
Conversations with the ghost of Hunter S Thompson.medium.com

Ramblings from within The Matrix
and other reasons for needing to write.medium.com

World Cup Countdown — Allez Les Bleus!
But will ball number 13 be unlucky for the European favourites?medium.com