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The Madman

The Madman took out his old brain and replaced it with a new one.
“I am worn out.” Said the old brain, and it asked 2 watchers nearby to deal the Madman some knowledge.
“Is it he who will be known as the Madman?” They asked.

2 The Madman sat upon a rock smiling not remembering that the old brain was his. He looked in great wonder at all the beauty around – the corner shop, the drunk, the overweight unemployed mum, the sky.

3 The old brain grew wings flew away and will not be seen again.
“Please listen dear Madman. This is Earth. You have a brain that is totally new.
It will store within it information that you need. Often you can learn by listening and asking questions. This message comes from your old brain.”
“My what?”
“It will not talk to you again. You have surely given it an ache.” Said the 2 watchers.

4 Soon the two watchers insisted they drop the Madman off. “We cannot bare the weight of his many questions.” They said.
They saw some passing strangers. “Excuse us, our friend here has just acquired a new brain. He knows nothing. We were wondering if you could help teach him?”
The gathering crowd agreed and the 2 watchers departed so fleet of foot the crowd remarked never before had they seen such speed.

5 “What can you tell me about this place?” Said the Madman, to the crowd.
“It is called Earth. It moves at 67 thousand miles an hour but you would never guess so. Where did you come from Madman? Surely you are crazy if you choose to have a brain that cannot remember your past?”
“Do I come from around the corner?” Said the Madman.
“No you come from your mother’s belly.” They said.
“A belly like yours?” Said the Madman.
“Yes.” Said the crowd.
“That is small I am large.” Said the Madman.
“Yes you was once small. Smaller than a fingernail.”
“Could you explain to me please?” Said the Madman.

6 “Everything on Earth is made of atoms. Some things grow. A tree was once a seed.” The crowd said.
The Madman asked, “Can you show me this thing you call growing?”
The crowd gathered bricks and placed one upon the other until the size was great.
“This is how things grow. Each brick in our example is an atom. Anything that grows has more and more atoms arrive to join together. They are the building blocks of life.”
The Madman got excited. “Behold behold I know how things grow.” Then he hesitated. “Excuse me where do atoms come from; around the corner?”

7 “Atoms do come from around the corner but it is a very difficult corner to explain. Science tells us that atoms were made around 14 billion years ago. They built the Earth 4 to 5 billion years ago.”
“So the atoms traveled 14 billion years to make you and me?” Said the Madman.
“That is one way of saying it.” They said.
“I would like to take this opportunity to thank the atoms for making me. That was very kind of them.” Said the Madman.

8 A crowd gathered around the Madman. They spoke. “The Madman is dim witted so innocent is he. He thinks atoms are kind. When all they really do is stick together.”
“Sticking together is a good thing isn’t it?” Said the Madman.

9 The Madman begun to walk and talk. Upon his travels he saw a woman upon her knees. “What is this?” He asked.
“They are praying.”
“What is praying?” Said the Madman.
“Here on Earth people pray to give thanks for their very existence.”
“To the atoms?” Said the Madman.
The crowd sighed. “People pray to God. Because God made the atoms God told the atoms to make all things.”
“Behold behold, blessed is God for having made the atoms that made me. I would like to take this opportunity to thank every atom in my body for listening to God.”

10 The Madman held a phone. “I will ring God and thank God for making atoms that made me. What is God’s phone number?”
“We cannot phone God. You must pray.” Said the crowd.
“Dear God,” said the Madman, “when I turn the next corner please tell the atoms to make a pathway for me to walk upon.”
The crowd said, “We do not pray for walkways if we did we would spend all day praying instead of walking.”

11 The Madman stood among the crowd. “Where does God live?”
“God lives in Heaven.” Said a man.
“God lives in the heart.” Said a woman.
The Madman said, “Where in this Universe is Heaven? Is it on your sat nav? If God is in our hearts why do you pray to God if God is so close?”
“God was taught to us by us parents.” They said.
“Who taught them?” Said the Madman.
“Their parents.” Some people pointed to this or that religious book. Or this or that particular man.
The Madman said, “Does that mean a woman cannot tell me about God as well as a Man?”
“No it is just that God chose man more often when it came to telling us about God.” They said.
The Madman did a strange thing. He got to his knees and prayed aloud. “Dear God send a long line of women that next time they do your bidding.”

“It seems to me that if I want to know something I should ask a human. For when I ask God I do not get a reply. Is God’s voice quiet?”
“What did you ask?”
“I asked what time the bus will take me around the corner.” Said the Madman.
A woman who did not believe in God said, “God cannot tell you the answer because God does not exist.”
Another woman who did believe in God said, “God does exist but God will never answer such a question.”
“Why?” Asked the Madman.
“It is too trivial . Bus times and routes are at bus stops or on your phone.”

“So what can I ask God that God will answer me?” Said the Madman.
The Woman who did believe in God said, “I cannot answer your question.”
A Religious Man said, “Not all questions can be answered but I believe in God.”
Then a female student from university said, “I am studying to finish my PhD it is the highest type of study. I do not believe in God I only believe in what has been proven.”
So the Madman said, “Well if you only believe in what has been proven why do you believe there is no God? For no one has yet to prove God does not exist.”


Then a Witness appeared. Its face was solemn. The Madman said, “Who is this?”
Someone spoke. “It is Witness and although it looks human it is not. It cannot be killed. It cannot be made to stop. It will speak. And although at first you shall not know soon you will.”
The Witness spoke, “You Madman stand upon that rock at that corner and issue forth your first wisdom.”

15 The Madman stood on a corner and upon the steadiest of Rocks spoke. “Ultimate Reality sent me.”
The crowd fell silent. For none at that time could understand.
“What do you mean Madman?” They said.
The Madman did not answer. And those that bore validity those with the face of a woman with PhD paid closest attention.
They would search for that what was and that what shall be. It was hidden in a human in a riddle within a riddle.
To find the human a riddle must be cracked.
The Witness spoke to the Madman, “Speak forth your logic so that simply it can be heard.”
The Madman spoke to the single mother, “So where is your husband?”
“He left me.” She said.
“Left you here?”
“You could say that.”
“He departed around the corner.” Said the Madman.
“Yes for another woman.”
The Madman spoke to a drunk who was from Scotland. “Where is your self?”
“It left me.” Said the drunk.
“For another self?”
“No that is not possible.” Said the drunk.
“With another self?”
“I.. maybe. This me drinks too much alcohol.”

16 The Madman spoke to the crowd. “What do all the people say about the condition my drunken friend is in?”
“We don’t understand.” They said.
“Every question I ask, you answer backed up by the opinions of others.”
“So what?” They said.
“It is part of the equation that I call Ultimate Reality.” Said the Madman.

And then a fool ready and quick to play the Madman’s tricks upon himself did step forward. “Ho ho ho sweet Einstein Madman. Are we to believe in our midst is genius that we listen to this E= MC squared type equation?”
And the Court Jester who was apt to act the fool did a merry dance at which the crowd were quick to laugh.
This was cut short by the swiping hand of the drunken Scotsman. His bottle crashed and caught the head of the Court Jester sending it to the ground. Its half merry dance over, blood trickled down its face.

The drunken Scotsman went to speak.
“Wait wait before you speak,” said a man that was the Killer. “I tell you Scotsman he that you defend will surely use your own jagged bottle against you, cutting out your tongue should it speak ill.”
The Killer continued. “If this Madman is what I think it is, it will use skill against skill. Drunk against drunk and -”
“Enough!” Shouted the Witness, stepping forth with a scowl upon his face. “You that is Killer your time good enough will come that you may confess. Or in truth claim your stake upon this place.”
“…and Witness against Witness.” Said the Killer.

19 “Save your one line wits for the Madman and those that will heed them. I have the words of a trillion sentences all made to measure by those who bore the test of time.” Said Witness.
The Killer said, “I have given you bombs drugs alcohol porn knives, but I have also given you the sword of choice. So what of war that killed millions or drugs or fast cars that kill. During these things you lived. I gave you choice.”
The Witness turned to the Madman and spoke thus: “I do not claim to know what you will say dear Madman or exactly how you will say it, but speak forth you must.”

The Madman pointed to the Killer. “Speak my brother until your heart is content surely then I will learn something.”
“I will speak,” said the Killer, “for speak I must. Soon this Madman will come for me. He will have his ways played out before one and all. In the greatest theater production ever known to this world.”

21 “I like a touch of theatrics.” Said the Court Jester, smiling.
The Killer continued. “Dear lady, yes you that have given your life to learning your PhD at university. He will attack again and again, and bare the wrath of reason upon your attractive head.”
“Why? I have worked hard to get my PhD.” Said the University Woman.
“I have danced around his wits,” said the Killer. “It is you that took to center stage and began to jester: I do not believe in God I only believe in what has been proven.’’
“I fear no rebuke in this for I have surely spoken the truth.” Said the university belle.
The Killer continued: “I know him he will turn this truth of yours and hand it like the bottle to a drunken Scotsman that a drink be turned into a weapon.”

It came to pass that the Madman walked and talked with the drunken Scotsman and the unemployed single mother.
They showed the Madman the sights – the bus stop, the cafes, the places to buy burgers.
“This is a very nice bus stop and what a fine place to buy a burger,” said the Madman. He then turned to the Woman and said, “Why do you look so miserable?”
The Woman spoke, “I am fat and my husband has left me.” She cuddled the Madman.
“Truly you have a big belly and a big heart.” Said the Madman.
The drunk fell to the ground. “Why do you fall?” Said the Madman.
“The cider.” Said the drunk.
“Let us find a better place for you to fall. Where did you get your cider?” Said the Madman.
“At a shop.”
“Where does the shop get it from?”
“The wholesalers.”
“Where does the wholesalers get it?”
“The factory.”
“Where does the factory get it?”
“I don’t know.” Said the drunk. And he took a swig of his cider.
The fat single mother spoke, “It would come from the farm.”
“Let us go to the farm that we learn some wisdom.” Said the Madman.

23 At the farm the Madman spoke to the farmer and his wife. “Where does cider come from?”
“From rows of trees.” Said the farmer.
They took the Madman to the trees and pointed to the apples. “Where do trees come from?” Said the Madman.
“From the ground.” Said the farmer.
“Don’t tell me,” said the Madman, “atoms hidden in the earth did grow into trees.”
“Yes I suppose so.” Said the farmer.
The Madman knelt to his knees and whispered gently, “Thank you Earth for giving us apple trees that gave my friend his cider.”

The Madman stood at the Gate of Reason and Logic. “Let her and him pass who have proof in their hand.” Said the Madman.
The crowds gathered.
“What is this?” They asked.
“You…’’ (pointed the Madman to the Woman with the PhD) “You sayeth you only believe in what has been proven to this Religious Man?”
The Woman smiled and nodded with the face of beautiful reason.
“Tell me for I have been thinking.” Said the Madman.
“Go on Madman,” cried one from the crowd, “blaze us with your dazzling dim witted logic.”
“It is surely not an easy thing to think for oneself but try I have.” Said the Madman.
Someone shouted, “It is impossible not to think and if you think it is you doing the thinking.”
“As I was saying,’’ said the Madman, looking to the Woman with philosophical reason, “why do you say you do not believe in God for you only believe in what is proven?”
“Well I would not sit upon a plane ready to fly unless those like me had proven it safe to do so. Would you take a medicine that had not been proven safe to take?”
“This is incredible thinking did you invent it?” Said the Madman.
“No I am but like he,” (she pointed to Plato) “a man known” (so the Madman was told) “to argue until the cows come home late into the evening.”
At this moment a man from the crowd said, “Plato we have come in the many to amuse ourselves. Do you not know the Madman is a dim witted fool with peculiar questions?”
“Yes I am told he has dug a hole in the ground. Apparently he pops his head there and whispers thank you whenever he discovers a truth that leads back there.”
“When I die I will be buried in the ground that is the only time I will have reason to place my head there.” Said a man.

Plato watched carefully. The Madman continued his way. He continued at the Woman. So it was as the Killer had forewarned he was not finished with her yet. He asked about cars, medicine, computers, watches and technological appliances such as televisions and phones.
A man again asked Plato, “Why you here?”
Plato replied, “I have met dim witted souls before, some cannot be reasoned with.”
“Some dim wits are not so dim witted.” Said the man.
Meanwhile the Woman from University babbled on about kettles, music systems, telescopes, phones, cars, computers….
The Madman could be seen smiling in ore as she lined up before him picture after picture of objects that had been created invented and mass produced and all, she screamed, proven.
“Glory glory I have just witnessed the glorious wonder that proven can bring. Hail to proof.” Said the Madman.

26 The Madman shook the University Woman’s hand. “My friend please may I show you some photos?” The Madman played video of the day he had been with the single mother and drunken Scotsman.
The crowd watched in bored amazement as the Madman could be seen asking about cider. And how the three of them had visited the farm to speak to the farmer.
The Madman spoke. “So for cider so for all things you make into objects. The start place is inside the Earth.”

The crowd fell silent and then a peculiar thing occurred. A small Child holding the hand of Plato waved to the Madman.
The Child then ran to the Madman and said: “You are the Madman.”
The Madman whispered: “You will understand before any of them, that what is.”
The Child smiled and ran back to Plato to hold his hand.
“Already this day I hear every person can think for itself but I tell you Child no one can think for itself. I will wait until you see it. Where you stand you shall not. For all matters aside it is your reason I come for.”

The Madman spread all the photos of objects. There were that many that they could easily circle the world.
The University Woman said, “All these objects have been proven to work. They exist beyond just mere unproven speculations.”
“Amazing.” Said the Madman.
“Now you know why I say I don’t believe in God because I only believe in what is proven.” Said she.
The crowd cheered.
“You might know why you said it but that does not mean it is right held in context to the religious minded man. As if with your chest stuck out you have the chest of wisdom.” Said the Madman.
The University Woman spoke. “When I journey in an airplane I know it to be reliable. Because it has passed detailed tests and has sufficient proofs.”
“You carry on,” said the Madman, “as if your virtue of proof outweighs his belief in God. As if belief itself without any proof has less logical rights to the truth.”
The crowd fell silent. Some giggled. The Witness observed the Woman’s wonder.
Plato wondered if the Madman’s end was near.
Someone shouted, “The Madman has given us all the proof we need. He has proven himself to be a dim witted fool.”
The crowd roared.
The Madman suddenly begun to dance and heckle, “I believe I believe I believe I believe I believe I believe: proof. Boom boom.”
The University Cinderella smiled. She with the big PhD and the many photos to prove her point.
The Witness spoke. “Yes I get his point. Miss PhD here claims proudly as a representative of the university educated and other custodians of logic. She is proud of the scientific thought process. The Big I Am.”
Plato spoke. “I too believe in proof and its virtue displayed wonderfully by Einstein and the like.”
“Speak, for soon the Madman will surely make his point.” Said the Witness, to the Woman.
Miss PhD spoke. “Yes dear Madman I believe, I believe in proof. I have a proof for every photo given to me by every inventor. You expect given all that I would lower my levels of inquiry to that of the Religious Man?”
The crowd applauded, the Court Jester sang, Plato said, “Bravo,” and the Child peered out from behind Plato as if shy. All did look to the Madman.

The Madman spoke. “You might think she holds strong cards at the table of logic. She does not. She holds crooked cards. Do not be taken in by her own self deceit.”
A man shouted, “At least she has a self deceit all you have got Madman is madness.”
The Madman spoke. “Every car, ship, airplane, computer, phone was once only a loose unproven idea, a hope a plan a dream a possibility on a piece of paper. All figments of imagination held as beliefs without any proof.”

Plato spoke. “A PhD student leaves no stone unturned. They prod inquiries to the most obvious and unfathomable of places. They know as much about validity as any group of thinkers – they create the stuff.”
“Her claim is solid about airplanes, but her claim that she only believes in what is proven and so cannot believe in God rests on shaky ground when we test how it is being applied.” Said the Madman.
The Comedian arrived holding a harp. He played it with the skill of the Court Jester that could juggle.
The Comedian spoke. “Pray be great Madman harp on that bit more for the sake we can hear your great voice and that you hear it for yourself.”
The crowd cheered, “More more.”
The Roman appeared. “If I may remind you Madman, the mob do not care whose blood they see spilled.”
The crowd shouted, “Blood blood.”
The Roman continued, “Tell us more of this the ruthless voice that like she this PhD Woman possesses. She with this glorious shield: Validity.”

The Madman spoke. “She smashes the idea of God Angel Heaven by the illicit devious twist that God believers are holding a truth less valuable than her proof one.”
“What is your point?” Said the Roman.
At this point the Court Jester began to point towards the crowd with his forefingers. Then to the Madman.
“My point is that the search to find proof, create proof builds a world. Its value is a lack of proof. It causes direction to an undefined target.” Said the Madman.
“Define your target.” Said the crowd.
The Madman said, “It does not matter if God exists or not. The matter who is right is decided by the accuracy of the claim in context.”
The Comedian played its harp with quick flourishes its eyebrows danced to the rhythms of its slick moving fingers. “If I may tempt you dear Madman to harp on that bit more. For in this harp is surely your sweetest voice: soft gentle kind and polite-”
“Not!” Cried the Court Jester, who juggled oranges this way and the other in such fine dazzling display those in the crowd could read each word on each orange.
“I must encourage you dear Madman not to be too polite for this University Woman has guile in civilized politeness. And civilized society might wish it you attribute equal politeness as if like for like.” Said the Court Jester.
The Comedian said, “I entreat you to think closely of the mob as the Roman has warned you. Mobs only come to see the blood of wits spilled heavily on the gladiatorial floor.”
“It matters not to the mob whose head is severed,” said the Court Jester. “But we humbly sir are in your corner or should I say your court?”
The Madman did not understand fully so he said, “I do not understand.”
The Witness spoke, “Yes yes yes cry the crowds. Look how they hold hands even when divisions split. So it is they speak the same language. In this they will sink or swim together.”
“It is the hand grip of fear and toil.” Said the Comedian.
“It is you who must make it clear where they stand.” Said the Court Jester.
“It is you who must get them to move their feet for where they stand bare no atoms.” Said the Witness.

The Madman came forth this is what he spake: “Her virtue about proof is presented as if it were the star or angel one places at the top of the Christmas tree.”
The Madman in song continued. “If you claim a truth know where to hang it. In this case it does not deserve to be hung around the necks of people who believe in God. This proof necklace like a thorn pierces flesh. Blood trickles down the face made to wear it.”
The Woman said, “Proof I seek proof I drive.”
“Enough of her civilised road rage rants directing the course of reason. I will not feel one pang of sorrow for her.” Said the Madman.
“I want no sorrow from any.” Said she.
“She is the educated leading the uneducated. She wishes to take the Child across the road to the ice cream van for an intellectual special.” Said the Madman.
“I wish nothing but the truth.” Said the Woman.
“But the proof.” Said the Madman, mirroring her. “She twangs of of intellectual smugness draped in acknowledgement for her proof power and its possibilities to set upon the Religious Man.”
“I merely said I do not believe in God.” Said the Woman.
“This is fine by me, but then you explained that you only believe in what has been proven as if this is the virtue the Religious mind lacks.” Said the Madman.
“He does lack it.” She said.
“Lack it or not that is not the issue. You insist, like a big breasted poll dancer, proof is the leading light. If it is then prove God does not exist for it is you that wishes to follow what is proven.” Said the Madman.
She fell silent.
The Madman continued, “Your virtue leads you to the same place. You carry belief as the Religious Man does.”
The mobs in the crowd were split but they both chanted. “The Madman is with us.”
The Madman chanted back, “I am with Ultimate Reality.” The crowd went silent.
“And so are you.” Said the Madman.

Plato looked concerned. The brutality set upon the University Cinderella. The chanting mob. The reverence for the Religious Man. The Child kept asking to see the Madman. The Court Jester juggled oranges and one apple. He spoke to Plato.
“If you want to know where the Madman can be found follow the green apple.”
This was easy for Plato there was not much he could not follow. This led him to the crowds. The Religious Man danced before them enchanted by their cheers and congratulations.
One from the crowd said, “You have your long line of prophets now you can add a Madman to your bow.”
The Court Jester spoke, “Yes from the bow the arrow. Do you know the story of the University Cinderella and the Religious Man who wanted to marry her? Convert her to his wisdom?”
At this moment the Comedian arrived playing tunes upon his harp. The crowd had never seen him look so happy.
The Court Jester told the story: “Once upon a time a king issued forth a command: If you wish to marry the University Cinderella you must split this apple in half. The apple was placed upon Cinderella’s head.
The king said, If you have the aim true and long take 20 steps back and hold steady.
What if I miss? Said the Religious Man.
Then the apple will be placed upon your head and Cinderella will fire the arrow.”
The Court Jester began to walk away.
“What happened?” Said the crowd.
“I don’t know it is a riddle.” Said the Court Jester.
“I can answer it,” said the Comedian, “they both fired the arrow and missed. Such is their aim. Is this the answer?”
The Killer stepped forth. “No it is not the answer. Both lost an eye both later bled to death.”
Plato spoke. “The one with the greatest logic will surely aim best and not miss. But do not take my word upon it let’s ask the Madman. It will surely entertain us.”
“Careful.” Said the Comedian, bright faced to Plato. It rubbed the red powder from its rosy cheeks. “Careful what you speak to entertain us for it is you that holds the Child’s hand.”
At this moment a woman in a short skirt and high heels walked past them.
“What is that? Never have I seen such a voluptuous woman.” Said Plato.
The Comedian spoke. “She is the passions of this place the Witch from Hell. Can you see the red glow at her lips?”
“Yes.” Said Plato.
“Apparently,” said the Comedian, “she cries out for the Madman every night. No intellect or reason does she care to have but to have the Madman.”
At this moment another woman walked past. Plato examined again. “Never before have I seen such a beautiful face.”
“She is an angel of wisdom,” said the Comedian, “can you feel her inner glow of her beating heart? Her words skip lightly upon time and space. She forgives the Madman every trespass.”
The Court Jester arrived beside Plato and did whisper, “Truly the Madman keeps good company.”

One side of the Madman stood the Voluptuous woman. The other side the woman with the beautiful face.
The Roman took centre stage. Two lines of women danced to the crowds. Two large crosses were raised by the hands of the Roman. So high were they their height reached up to where birds did fly.
Between each cross stood the Madman juggling a hammer and nails. The Comedian stepped forward to front of stage where thousands stood to watch. This is what he spoke, “Step right up. Step right up. He or she who is brave enough or foolish enough. To defend their corner.”
Plato was in the front row. The bells ringing, the rain pouring the thunder flashing. But none would step up. For so it was the story had circulated about the one called Cinderella the PhD itch.
“The Madman will surely play a trick,” the crowd whispered.
A rumour spread. According to the Court Jester a double crucifixion was going to take place. Many in the crowds believed that the killer might be got.
As it was the Madman beckoned those closer who believed in God and those who did not believe in God.
The dancers disappeared. The Roman and the Comedian stood by the side of the stage.
The Madman said, “Let him who is brave enough come to center stage.”
Suddenly the footsteps of light running feet could be heard. The Child runneth to the Madman.
This is what the Madman spake: “I carry nails I carry hammer. But never will I spill your blood. That what would spill from you will have theirs spilt ten fold. Go to your guardian and watch carefully.”
All fell silent.
This is what the Madman spoke: “We find ourselves surrounded by so many things. Everywhere I turn there is an object invented by another.”
A voice from the crowd shouted, “I made this jumper I wear. It was not made by another.”
The Madman replied, “It is but one thing. But look how many things there are that you did not make. Be it a bed, room, car, pavement, road, coffee, buildings, computers, a garden. Wool you used. These things cannot be avoided.”
A man cried out from the crowd, “Yes they can be avoided for this morning I walked my dog in fresh morning air surrounded by nature’s flowers.”
“Did you walk naked?” Said the Madman.
“No.” Said the man.
“Well you had clothes on made by others.”
The crowd laughed.
But the man from the crowd was not yet finished. For he said, “Yes and tomorrow I will walk naked just to prove you wrong.”

The Madman continued onward. “Whoever you are wherever you are you only know via the opinions others told you. Ultimate Reality as I call it is: objects and opinions.”
The crowd laughed. One man shouted: “I know you are a fool Madman and no one told me that opinion.”
“I could have told you.” Said another man.
“Great minds think alike.” Shouted a woman.
The crowd roared with laughter. The mob did jeer and chuckle. Yet again the Madman true to himself had proved himself a fool.
The simpleton must have got lucky when he took on the PhD itch. So it was now Cinderella fancied the coup that she take from the Madman his own foolish nails.
“Maybe it is time we crucify him,” said this barefoot Cinderella. She sharpened her teeth on her PhD. For she loved nothing better than to eat from the pie (as saying goes) that is an eye for an eye.
“Na,” said the Religious Man, “he this Madman did defend me from you. I will stand and watch. Anyway you should be happy, he has given you wisdom to cloak your self in.”
The Woman replied, “I need not his wisdom that he undress me that I bare my nakedness before all. I will take him on and give him a taste of what he gives.”
And so the crowds roared and roared. They said, “Yes Woman of University take him on take him on. For blood is what we came for. The Comedian might call you Lady of the Night but we will call you Lady of the Light. Illuminate us with your wisdom and roast this Madman upon the spit that we dance merry home. Never have we heard such a ridiculous thing as objects and opinions.”
The crowds laughed for so long at what they saw and what they said.
The Witness arrived to beckon their silence. “This matter will not be decided by you not listening,” spoke the Witness. “Nothing good will come of such a trick.”
The crowd fell silent.
“As sure as thunder and rain have come so has this Madman. As sure as the thunder and rain will disappear so will this Madman. Once the bidding is done.”

The Madman could be seen dancing with the Woman of the Day and the voluptuous Woman of the Night.
“Oh my word what is this?” Cried the crowd.
From the sky opinions fell fluttering like paper. The stuff piled up before the stage. The Court Jester played music through a flute, tip toeing to its sweet pulsing beat.
The Comedian smiled and cried out: “Oh yes oh yes oh no.” Clapping his hands.
“Is it money?” Asked the crowd, inspecting the piles of opinions.
“Better than money.” Said the Madman.
“I will bet anyone anywhere they cannot escape Ultimate Reality by which I mean the objects and opinions made by others.”
Miss University spoke: “I have written thousands of pages I have talked millions of words I have loved a million feelings.
I cannot escape the objects but I pride myself in my modern intelligent mind and its freedom to think for itself. I will bet I can escape the opinions of others.”
The crowd did wait for the Madman. “Then bet you shall,” said he. “And let any in the crowd bet also. Either I am right or she this barefoot Cinderella.”
A man came forward: “I will bet she escapes if only in desperate hope she defeats thee.”
And the Madman replied, “It is as worthy a bet I have heard. At least you have decided you do not like what I speak.”
The Comedian shouted, “See how virtuous the Madman is. You would think like a shop he try to sell you three for the price of two. That he take your custom.
But so virtuous is he it matters not to him that you buy what he sells. For sell your self you surely will. Be it cheaply or at a fine price to that what will buy it.”
“Some are rich some are poor.” Said the Court Jester.
The University Cinderella took a deep breath and then spoke, “What am I to do to bet?”
The Madman said, “I say every single thought you ever had, every written word you produced was dependent upon other people giving you opinions or truths or ideas to use.”
“That’s impossible. I will bet. I will not be told by you or anyone that I am not a free agency. I can go where I will and think what I will and do what I will.”
The Court Jester yawned. The Comedian played his harp. The Madman said, “Increase your bet.”
Cinderella continued: “From this morning to midnight I use my mind and body how I direct it when I direct it.”
“I agree you do.” Said the Madman.
“Then I am not dependent on the opinions, ideas, truths of others. I have my own opinions.” Said she.
“Did you invent any of the meanings to any words you used to think with?” Said the Madman.
“No.” She said.
“Then you was dependent on whoever invented those words. Meanwhile whatever matter you focus upon be it a worry, plan of action, deliberation… it will connect to something created by others in the past.” The Madman turned to the crowd.
The Religious Man and Woman came to the Madman and said –
“Be not distracted by this crowd. Please continue that you finish off this barefoot Cinderella this PhD itch from the hood, for surely she needs finishing.”
“You may all change your bet if you wish. I am not a casino. This is no straight forward thing.” Said the Madman.
“Finish her.” Said the Religious Man.
“I have no good reason to finish her off as I would have no good reason to finish you off. I have opinions and you both have yours. It’s just that I know our opinions to be made on the backs of others.”
The Madman turned to the University Woman. “At the age of a few months until 5 years who told you your name?”
“My mother.”
“Who told you the name of your toys?”
“My mother and father.”
“Who taught you where you live?”
“My mother.”
“Who taught you to spell and what words mean?”
“My teacher at school,” said the PhD itch. “But I named some of the dolls myself, I constructed imaginary conversations.”
So it was the PhD itch defended her quarter.
“Yes with names taught to you. And conversations using words taught to you. Age 25 to 30 who told you where you live?”
The PhD itch hesitated, then she said, “The person I rented from.”
“How did you get the postal code?”
“It was on a form.”
“It all depends on others and their information,” said the Madman. “And that’s my point. With the greatest respect to you, can you tell me what you know you did not learn via the aid of other people’s facts knowledge ideas or opinions?”
“If this isn’t the crucifixion we must surely stick around for what is.” Said the crowd.

The Artful Northerner stepped up to the stage and spoke to the PhD itch. “You have your snooty opinions all wrapped up in academic prose, stuck up your hooter.”
Miss PhD replied, “There is nought stuck up my hooter that is snobbish. It bares the shadows of a hundred generations all searching for the truth. I am but its product and proud of it. These intellectual people all searching for the truth like a coal miner.”
The Artful Northerner faced the crowd and spoke. “Now then now then now then. I’ve had a tough upbringing. You know the one. I grew up on a council estate. Me dad was a coal miner, me next door neighbour’s cat had a drug dependency. Bla bla bla bloody bla. Snore snore snore.
The PhD itch drives a fancy car but did she build it? It fell off the factory floor for her to inherit. She knows little about this search for the truth she speaks as if she herself has dug for coal.
Take what you can while you can. Take from the Madman his definition about Ultimate Reality for be you rich or poor, on one leg or two, believe in no God or God. Bet the Madman is right.
Because once there was no time according to the human brain even though we lived through it. One day we invented the clock and later still Einstein told us about Relativity.”
The crowd went silent.

The barefoot Cinderella (PhD itch) had the countenance of one who looked sick as if she had just failed an exam.
The Madman said, “If you think that was hard to hear what I offer now is much harder.”
The Killer shouted from the crowd: “I warned you I told you so.”
The Comedian walked on stage to the sound of the midnight bells. “You are many the Madman is one. It is surely an unfair contest you are not that many you will manage to outwit him.
He with the tomfoolery simpleton brain. I’ll bet blind. You might call it chance but I will call it reputation. I bet the Madman will string you up before you can lay one hand upon him.
What you hold at this card table is the laughable principle. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. So laughable is this principle of yours the Madman will quite literally laugh it out of this casino.”
The Roman walked to centre stage. “Bring me the head of this laughable principle.” He said.
The Court Jester arrived. He did not carry a flute or fruit to juggle. His face appeared serious.
The crowd said, “What’s the matter with you? Worried we might rush the Madman and show not one mercy?”
The Court Jester replied, “Do not rely on wits to catch the Madman for soon when the bets are done and the bells have tolled it is he who will laugh all the way to the bank.”
The Madman then spoke to the crowd: “The laughable principle is this.”
The Madman produced a grain of sand. Which he held high to the crowd. He then placed it to the ground and stood upon it.
“The God believer cannot prove God exists to the non believer. Or even to himself! Meanwhile hark the heavenly angels sing. The non believer cannot prove God does not exist to the believer. Or to himself!
Both types have ranted at us through the centuries that they see reality. Not one of them has proven who is right.”
The Madman picked up the grain of sand and held it high and said: “Between them this is the amount of their proof.”
It fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Some say it was so silent you could hear the grain of sand when it fell to the ground. So it was the Madman blew it from his hand.


Plato stepped forth. He carried a weapon. A plate upon which he would serve the Madman as a dish beaten not eaten.
This is what he spoke. “I must defend the PhD itch. You have said God and no God cannot be proven. If so you defend her because it is she who said, she does not believe in God she only believes in what is proven.
This is logical for God cannot be proven. Just as you yourself have stated.”
A chill and buzz filled the air. The Madman was roused and the crowd did whisper; “The Madman is beat he has served himself as a dish upon Plato’s plate. And how tasty it will be.”
None did shout or taunt. For so it was the Madman had yet to speak.
“This is so, Plato, but once you only believe in what is proven it also means you cannot fully believe God does not exist. Because no one has proven God not to exist.”
“What is your conjecture?” Said Plato.
“This understood she must accept that God might exist but she never got so far in the reasoning process.” Said the Madman.
“She attacked the Religious Man and Woman with a half thought not knowing that her definition of what is a virtue in the reasoning process automatically frames it in doubt: because God cannot be proven to not exist. She holds not the cards she thinks.” Said the Madman.
“But ‘might exist’ is not ‘proven’ and ‘proven’ is her chosen value.” Said Plato.
“Yes but she held it in context that proven has a higher value. She stuck her chest out proud as punch or should I say proud to lunch upon the Religious Man and Woman.
If you uphold a value like proof it is because you believe it superior and that is the context she held it in. A classic academic conceit.” Said the Madman.

A man stepped forward and said, “I don’t believe in God. I never thought I had proof I just had belief there is no God. Others exist like me. So you are not alone Madman.”
The Witness stepped forth. “Yes this is so.” He said.
The Madman spoke. “It is nice not to stand alone but I worry for the Child should it be led by the hand of reason and this PhD itch. Her reliance on proof is no place to stand.
Such a person be they Scientific or Religious cannot via proof find God or no God. And yet such a person is sure of their right.
Such a person will lead the Child astray. And if such a Child grows up to be cleverer than the last generation what will it discover with its bold claims of proof? Only that of a scientific proof. Which is very successful.
Be clear mankind. If the Child wishes to find God or no God it best not fool itself it can do so via proof. So it is I stand at the Edge of Reason.”


The Madman stood at a corner and placed a phone to his ear. “Dear God thank you for such a lovely day.”
The crowd said, “What do you do?”
“I ring God.”
“Ring God? We pray to God.”
“You pray to God I ring God.”
“God cannot be contacted by phone.” They said.
“Who says so? Is it written in a holy book?”
“No.” They said.
“Then why not I cannot ring God?” He said.
“We pray as part of tradition.” They said.
“But this is now.” Said the Madman.
The crowd laughed, “Does God answer the phone to you Madman? If so what does God say?”
“I have not heard God speak to me when I ring. Have you heard God speak to you when you pray?”
“No, Madman, it cannot be right to contact God so.”
“You have your book belief without proof, I have my phone belief without proof. You all spend so much time on your phone why not use it to contact God?” Said the Madman.
“Would you have us send a text to God?”
“What a wonderful idea.” Said the Madman.
“Or email?” They laughed.
“Why did I not think of such a clever idea. I will do all these this day. I could even write a letter on paper also.”
The crowd roared, “You have God’s address Madman?”
“Do you? email it to me.”

The Scotsman appeared. He placed down his cider bottle. He held his mobile phone. “I have no credit on my phone.” He said.
“That doesn’t matter, a call to God is free.” Said the Madman.
The Scotsman said, “I cannot work out if it is respectful enough to use a phone to contact God? That’s if God exists.”
“Then get on your knees to pray and show God your respectful nature.” Said the Madman.
“I would but I’m that drunk I would nay-make the return journey to stand.”
The Madman said, “You’re the generation that spends so much time looking at a screen you may as well build a church there.”
The Scotsman spoke into his phone. “Dear God could I have another bottle of cider this day, oh yeah thank you for giving me a soul and a life.”
Someone gave the Scotsman a bottle of cider. And said, “Truly the drunken Scotsman has wisdom.”
“This is all you need.” Spoke one.
“What is wise in a drunk?” Someone hooted.
“You cannot prove my phone call to God is less better than your pray to God.” Said the Scotsman.
And he went into the crowd to argue his point.
“See what the Madman has started,” said the crowd. “He has given us a wise drunk or is it a drunk that is wise? It is certainly a drunk with a phone.”
The Madman spoke. “Would you have it that the wise are only dressed in the robes of university. They would not invite him for a debate.”
“Would you invite him?” They said.
“I have invited him. And I do not insist he be sober and use clearly pronounced words.” Said the Madman.

And the Madman did a strange thing. He opened a church. And on the entrance it was written: Drunks only.
The mobs arrived to watch the spectacle. Inside men and women held drink and drugs close to their hearts. Some sat. Some falling that their head gave blood. Some shouted some argued.
The man that gave the service was drunk, he slurred his words through the holy phone. Men and women were laying on the floors listening to the minister.
“Deplorable.” Said the crowd. “Amusing.” Said others.
“Everyone has their house,” said the Madman. “This the house of addiction.”

The drunken Scotsman shouted, “I’m sick of so much.”
The crowd shouted: “Watch him, he will surely smash the bottle and threaten us with its jagged edge.”
And the Scotsman cried into his phone, “Forgive them God or for that matter don’t. I cannot tell which is better. They know not what they do. Or do not do what they know.”
Someone shouted, “I know this Scotsman he does not believe in God.”
“I that’s right,” said the drunken Scotsman. “But I suddenly realize God might exist albeit with no proof. It was trying to find God by proof that turned me to drink.”
“A drink of holy water?” Said the Comedian to the crowd.
“I can handle being a drunken Scotsman but a sober fool I will not bare. And I say to you if you nay understand the Madman’s words, you are sober fools.”
“Sober is lovely.” Said the Comedian.
The Scotsman continued: “I know now I can call by phone without any rule or regulation or inconvenience to my cider drinking ways.
I can talk to my heart is content to God. And I know full well such a God if it exists would listen to me.”
The crowd spoke: “Can you prove God listens in such a way?”
“No I cannot prove. But only yesterday I was in the pub on the phone to God for an hour. Did you pray for that long?”
“This Scotsman is dangerous.” Said the crowds.
Yet suddenly a vicious argument broke out between them. Those that would defend the Scotsman and those that would not.

The Scotsman wrote in chalk upon the street floor: “Please may I buy a phone credit to speak to God.”
“This is a scam. It’s free to talk to God.” Said the crowd.
The Scotsman said, “The church has its poor box I have my drunk box.”
He wrote; “I’ve a phone line to God I will surely thank God for your kindness if you spare me a penny.”
“We will give you no penny for you will go and get drunk.” Some said.
And the Madman spoke. “If you need a penny for drink ask for it. Those that do not give are merely serving their own conscience, but the ones that give understand how to serve yours.”
“We will serve him no drink.” Said they.
“You say your conscience is better than this Scotsman?” Said the Madman.

And the Madman did a strange thing. He opened a hostel for drunks only. An Olympic sized swimming pool was filled with beer.
Drunken women and men traveled from afar to live there. Some were so dangerous to themselves and others they had to be separated and placed in a padded cell. With a gallon of beer.
A drunk with his head in a trough of beer stood to face the teetotal crowds. “This is my home this is where I belong this is where my will and conscience brings me.”
“Yes,” said the teetotal crowds, “this is where we come to stand and stare.”
“Buy me a drink. That way if I die crossing the road I die knowing you love me.” Said the drunk.
“You call that love?” Said they.
“Love is in the heart not the practical condition with which you give.” Said the drunk.
A strange thing passed. Two types of drunk emerged, one that asked for a money for a drink. Another that asked for a money to ring God. Some from the crowd gave money one way. Some the other way. One of the drunks stopped drinking.

“I am onto a good thing,” cried a drunk. He got dialing thanking God for the kindness of those that gave.
Plato stepped forward. “Great Madman dear sir. Allow me to give you this penny that before this Child you show by example what drunk you would give it to.”
The Madman did a strange thing. He bent down and took a pound from one drunk and took a pound from the other drunk. “Thank you.” Said the Madman to each of them.
“Hey,” they cried, “we are drunks, poor and homeless.”
“What is good for you is good for them,” said the Madman. “You think I do not need a pound? You think this man here in a suit does not need your help?”
The drunks looked at the suited man. “But this man has a car, a job, a wife and nice clothes.”
“So he has no problems? Have you asked him that you might help him in some way?” Said the Madman.
“No.” The two drunks replied.
“Ultimate Reality will catch you out. Already it has taught you your plight is the bigger problem. Soon those without credit will have nothing to give.
Credit of virtue, the question; will you give? Will you give your help?” Said the Madman.
The crowds did say: “Explain what it is you mean Madman.”
But the Madman disappeared from view his talking was done.


And the Scotsman argued late into the morning hours.
“My phone is proof of my spiritual wisdom. I’m a small man but my heart is big. I know the cider is bad for me. I know the Madman is good for me. I swear this on the holy phone.”
“Holy phone?” Cried the crowds.
“Like your holy books but without stories or orders.” Said the Scotsman.
“Then how would you know the word of God.” Said they.
“I know no word of God. And if you do; you would only bamboozle me with it.”
“Where is the Madman?” They cried.
“Did you not heed what the Witness told you? Here today gone tomorrow.” Said the drunken Scotsman.
“Put down your phone,” said they, “and read the word of God from our books.”
The drunken Scotsman replied, “As sure you are God sent you this word so I say the Madman’s word is true that I can use this phone.”
“Our wise men told us to pray.”
“You point to a pathway of opinions through time when there were no phones. Who is to say any of them are wiser than the Madman?”
And the crowds roared with laughter. “Our wise men could fill books with wisdom. The Madman has a new brain he does not understand how he grew in his mother’s belly.”
“And what is it you understand? except that what you have read or what someone did tell you.” Said the Scotsman

“Hear up hear up I have something to declare.” Shouted a Preacher.
About this time he took to centre stage.
Those in the crowds with a religious mind said, “He will surely praise the Lord.”
Another said, “Himself or his religion.”
“No,” said the Preacher, “I want to introduce you to why it is I believe I have the advantage over all men and women. It is a secret I have kept since I was six years old.”
“No one can keep a secret that long. Not these days.” They said.
“Yes fear not-” Said the Preacher.
“We are not fearing.” Said the people. Yet a few did whisper, “fear fear fear.”
“I have secrets aplomb for the religious minded people.” Said the Preacher.
“There are many religions.” They said.
“Fit what I say where you want I am the Preacher. He that Madman is surely very cute and clever but I have the advantage over all men and women or should I say all souls.”
“We have not found any to have advantage over the Madman so tell us your secret that we might.”
“I will articulate myself by calling it the first Preacher truth. Remember many more shall follow.”
The Preacher set himself upon a stage. There was a drum roll. It was billed as the secret above secrets.
The Preacher made them pay a high and hefty price – their attention. The Preacher spoke. “The Scotsman will take your cash and save your soul. That is his word.”
“Is that the secret?” Asked the Religious people.
“If any here be not religious shoo shoo. Away ye with sin in your soul.” Said the Preacher.
“Please Preacher tell us this secret of yours for surely it is shrouded in deep mystery.”
The drums rolled. The Preacher went into preaching mode.
“My brothers my sisters. My sisters my brothers. And any other combination. It’s not wise to upset anyone these days. I would not want to lose my internet following.”
“Where on the internet can we find you Preacher?”
“Nowhere. I am an unusual Preacher in that I do not want a following.”
“What kind of Preacher wishes not a following?” They asked amongst themselves.
“The kind that will get one.” Said a woman.
“Save us this misery,” said they. “What is this secret you talk but undeclared it remains. For surely long the drums have rolled.”
The drums fell silent. The Preacher raised both arms high and out to the crowd. This is what he said. “I have one advantage over all humans. It is that I know I do not know what I am talking about.”
“Is that the secret?”
“It most certainly is.”
“We came all this way, wasted all this time, paid all that cost and this is your secret of secrets?”
“It most certainly is.”
“It means nothing Preacher. You cannot claim to be a Preacher telling us just that.”
“It is profound don’t you think?”
“No,” said a man, “it offers no advantage whatsoever to know you know nothing.”
“Yes but that’s the advantage. I know when I do not know. Define God.” Said the Preacher.
“What?” They said.
“Define God. Show me where in your religion God is defined. Show me the exact page the definition of God is given.”
The Religious people did not like this.
The Preacher continued. “I am not questioning the existence of God or your religious ideas. I am merely asking what by definition you pray to?”
They replied, “Name the parts in a car.”
“Four wheels, seats, mirrors, lights, engine.”
“Your description is vague. Is that it?” They said.
“Yes.” Said the Preacher.
“Well God created the Universe and that’s good enough for us. Such is our vagueness.” They said.
The Preacher having been out preached attempted to make a bit of a comeback.
“Yes I agree but I have to defend people who do not believe in God. You have hardly laid out any understanding about what God is exactly.”
A posh spoken Christian chap marched up to the Preacher with a hefty accompaniment of do good religious friends. They did not see eye to eye but did agree they did not like pigs.
The Preacher spoke. “Oink oink. Many on earth can do a ravishing impression given enough cash and monetary speculation.”
The Christian posh said, “Are you taking us for-”
“A ride?” Said the Preacher.
“No a-”
“Walk?” Said the Preacher.
“No a-”
“Talk?” Said the Preacher.
“No a-”
“Candy floss?”
“No taking us for -”
“Christs?” Said the Preacher.
“No chumps.” Said the Christian.

“The second Preacher truth is: Mental images impress upon the mind which the reader experiences.”
“What?” Said the Religious people.
“Your definition of God, Heaven, Angel, Soul, Spirit is dependent upon the experience of reading your religious books unless you don’t read. Ask Google?”
“Oh we read Preacher.”
“Good. You get a sense for what God is by reading all the references made about God. Unconscious and conscious mental images surely prevail.”
“What prevails in you Preacher?”
“I wonder where this Madman is of yours that I get to hear his acute reasoning. I hear he defends you.” Said the Preacher.
“Yes the Madman defends but defends himself whilst defending.”
“I do not understand can you define this Madman clearer to me?”
“We can only tell you of him what we know you would have heard of him yourself.”
“What can he tell me of God?” Said the Preacher.
“He does not care one iota be there God or no God because no one can prove one thing or the other.”
“Would he consider your definition of God?” Said the Preacher.
“We doubt it. He would accuse us of having no proof. He pinpoints things with missing logic and can rant like a vicar. He gives ale to drunks and will hustle his opinions reversing everything.”
“What in God’s name does that mean?”
“It means your first Preacher truth may not apply quite so easily to him. The PhD itch used a claim to proof which he turned upon her head. Soon after using proof or the lack of it upon our heads.”
“I would like to meet the Madman.” Said the Preacher.
“That you may but know how difficult he can be given the day. He has encouraged people in pubs to use their phones to contact God. The drunken Scotsman is his profit.”
“Yes the drunken Scotsman knows how to make profits from the Madman’s truths. He knows how to threaten using the jagged edge of a broken bottle.”

51 At this moment walking forcefully towards them, phone in the left hand, cider bottle in the right, the drunken Scotsman marched purposely that the Preacher considered his stout legs.
Behind him playing the bagpipes was the Comedian and then again the Court Jester juggling coins and religious books. The pipes whittled down to a close, the last tune broken, it scuttled through air.
“Yes God,” (said the Scotsman to the phone) “I am at the one they call the Preacher amen.”
“What money do ye have for me Preacher? that today we can do some good. Would you care to check any holy book for a definition of good? Seeing as ye be a man for a precise definition.”
“You have knowledge for me?” Said the Preacher.
“You have cash?” Said the Scotsman.
“I have Preacher truths.”
“That will do. Let me check such a transaction is decent with God.”
The Religious people spoke. “The Scotsman claims that God speaks to him. Yet when we listen at the phone no voice do we hear.”
“I, God speaks to my heart is reason why.” Said the drunken Scotsman.
“Ask God what God’s definition is of God.” Said the Preacher.
“There is no point I cannot tell if it is God who speaks to me or the hurt burn from cider.”
“Are you religious?” Said the Preacher.
“No,” said the drunken Scotsman, swilling back his bottle, “I am a man arguing the truth found in an argument. That is all I am.”
“What of God?” Said the Preacher.
“I know nothing of God or definitions only that my phone is as reliable a tool as a church to find God. Unless you can prove otherwise.”
“Interesting point,” said the Preacher, “I would hasten a bet with you. I hear your Madman has a philosophy that encourages betting.”
“Na, it is not as much an encouragement as it is a fact of life; you bet your actions daily as a judgment of morality.”
“Then tell me Scotsman what is your morality? seeing as your master is not here to answer for you. Is it God you answer to or the truth in your arguments?”
The Scotsman spoke. “It is the truth in my arguments I answer to. In this way I serve God if God exists.”
“Do the truths in your arguments exist?”
“Drunk or sober they do. What better way to approach God.” Said the Scotsman.
“Then let me add to your repertoire. I will declare the third Preacher truth: You cannot know God better by phone or pray alone than you can by reading holy books.”
The Court Jester shuffled past juggling a consortium of holy books.
The Comedian lifted the Court Jester’s kilt. No one dare improper to hasten a look.
“Tell us of this truth the Court Jester holds.” Said the Preacher to the Comedian.
“One is spoken. One is unspoken. One on show. One hidden. Careful some men carry a truth as a heathen conceals a sharp blade.”
The Preacher spoke. “There are more truths in relation to God written by hand there to be reflected upon than phone call or pray. Us thinking humans gather our gold in the reflections made upon the written hand.”
“Are you saying a man who does not know how to read cannot know God as well as he that can read?” Said the Scotsman.
“It is obvious Scotsman that you have failed to consider the 4th Preacher truth: Until written books about God how could a world of people expect to share in that collection of insights? Those insights would be lost.”
“My phone can record what I say to God that I play it back when I am sober.”
“A book allows you to pick it up wherever in its pages. In this way you can reflect when you will without aid of a preacher who in himself cannot speak a thousand pages.”
“My eyesight is poor when drunk. If your book does not contain God then God I cannot see.” Said the Scotsman.
“If you want to know of God you must read the holy books, it is logical,” said the Preacher. “You might pray or text God but the religious brain has thousands of images made by reading holy books.”
“A matter of interest Preacher, would I be right in thinking you contain a further amount of these truths?”
“I. I thought as much.” The Scotsman swigged his drink.
“Where is the Madman?” Demanded the Preacher.
“He went to the stationary shop for a piece of paper.”


And the Madman could be seen jumping with joy clutching a piece of paper. “Finally I have an opinion,” he shouted. “So simple behold the opinion of others behold to the inventions of others I can see it.”
Thunder roared at this moment and lightning bolts struck one eye then the other eye. Blood dripped down the Madman’s face, rain poured filling the Madman’s lungs, the wind gathered and blew him across the Edge of Reason.
He lay fell at the pit of the dark ravine. The mob rushed to its edge looking down. The Court Jester spoke. “The price of wits the price of freedom, the Killer has won the day. Whatever it was the Madman would have spoke we can only guess.”
The Comedian spoke. “No angel was there when the Madman in his fall did need one.”
The Killer arrived smiling. He carried dice. “I throw a six I throw a seven I throw for hell I throw for heaven. I throw dice loaded by deceit.”
He threw the dice and true to his words a 6 and 7 rolled up. “Natural elements can be fatal,” said the Killer, “I needed the Madman to walk to this edge. At last he is blind at last he will shut up.”
At this moment the Child could be seen running to the Edge of Reason. It pushed its way through the crowds. Looking over, tears fell from its face. These tears fell to the Madman. Please do not leave us, spoke these tears.
The Killer spoke. “Silenced is he. That what cannot see that what cannot walk or talk my job is done.”
The PhD itch cried, “I did not agree with him but I enjoyed not agreeing with him. Much was he to bare.”
The Religious Man spoke. “I think he believed in God even though using proof he would not. I will pray for the Madman’s soul.”
The Scotsman arrived. From the Edge of Reason he threw down his phone to somewhere the Madman lay slain. “You might be needing this dear Madman.” He then threw down his cider bottle. “Have a drink on me in heaven if it exists pal.”
The Roman spoke. “I warned him. All spectacles of wit end in the bloody entertainment for the crowd.”
Plato spoke. “That what slips falls.”
The Artful Northerner spoke. “That what spoke to us has gone down south.”
And so the sun set. And the moon did rise. Only echoes of the Madman remained.

The mob gathered at the stage set by the Edge of Reason. “Where’s your God phone?” they chirped to the drunken Scotsman who held a whiskey bottle in one hand a cider bottle in the other.
“I. That’s right kick a poor old drunk down why ye can. I gave my phone to he who might need it. Seeing as you’re all so big why don’t ye take to the center stage and make a stand.”
The drunk slumbered to the ground dribbling. His last words gargling. “If you are out there God with no proof send someone to stand. I cannot do it I cannot walk let alone stand to a stage.”
The Comedian beckoned smiling to the drunk. “Hold my hand I will lead you to the Edge of Reason. To your master.”
“Na I’ve not the legs son,” said the drunken Scotsman. “I need my drink. My cider bottle reminds me of the good old days and just when I was beginning to find my -”
“Fish and chips?” Inquired the Preacher.
“No me -”
“Cider bottle?” Asked the Court Jester.
“No me -”
“Feet?” Asked the University Cinderella.
“No me -”
“Money for a beer?” Said the man in the suit, spinning a coin through the air.
“No me-”
“Final resting place?” Said the Killer.
“No me -”
The Child came to the Scotsman and said, “Faith.”
“No Child,” said the drunken Scotsman, sitting himself up whilst the crowd looked down to him.
“Me voice.”
“Well,” said the Court Jester, juggling cider bottles. “Drink these you’ll find your voice broken to pieces hidden at the bottom of each bottle.”
Suddenly the Scotsman cried out and jumped to his feet pointing. “Everybody look behind you.”
And they did look behind them. There upon his knees crawling upon the stage blood pouring down his face brainless eyeless the Madman dragged a great sized Mirror.
So large was it the size of the stage it took. The Madman beckoned forth those from the crowd who wished to come and stare. They did so in great numbers.
Their eyes bulging then disappearing. Their ears growing then receding. So their bodies shifted and reshaped. The Madman crawled away. “Truly the Madman has gone. Still he mumbles of his objects and opinions and yet no eyes or brain does he have.”
The Witness took the Madman’s hand and led him away from the stage. The Mirror spoke, “I have seen this trick with the brain before but not done twice. It is a clever and dangerous thing. Remind him Witness I will not take his biting lip.”
The mirror then spoke to the crowd. Their eyes did glean and hearts did stare. They would not carry this day this tainting judgment well. It was meant to weigh heavy and heavy it would lay.
This is what this Mirror spoke. “What you did not understand played into my hand. Humans will stand pointing fingers. Tied up in a knot that untied is the same thing. No war or disease was needed. Only objects that you bow down to like Pagan’s at sunset.
For what reason? Opinions is your answer. Opinions is your fate. The opinion you need these objects at any cost the cost to your unborn children’s future. As you look to the skies to watch it disappear so a part of you disappears.
Take with you your Madman who cracked the code. I will welcome you to your opinion to look after your family yourself and let the future generations look after their selves. In this you will reside in me.”
30 pieces of silver spewed out from the Mirror. Spend it you earned it. The Mirror exploded into billions of bits and cast its reflection out through to the hearts of the crowds that lived on Earth.
Some in the crowds with eyes to see fell ill. Those that did not see came to their aid warning them that they had been smitten by delusion. Not knowing that the one that shall come is smitten not.

54 Great arguments and discussions broke out. And if it could not get worse. Worse it did. The Comedian followed closely by the Magician came to center stage. As indeed many innocent unsuspecting people would find themselves. Cast to the fate of the theater.
So it was or so the people thought the Comedian and the Magician had come to do the Devil’s bidding. As it was they came to do a trick. They called it the Climate Zone.

The Magician produced a floating globe that had painted upon it all the countries of the world. He floated his hand above the world and a shimmering mist pervaded it.
“What we have got here is a world and a climate zone. I want the Magician to show how to get rid of the climate using a magic wand.” Said the Comedian.
The Magician produced a hand size doll of a man wearing a suit. He waved the little man across the climate and spoke the magic words: “Objects objects objects.”
Parts of the climate disappeared. The audience gasped. And the Roman entered pushing a long tray covered by a cloak. He lifted the cloak and beneath it was billions of babies. All smiling happy as the day is young.
“Watch as the Magician holds these miniature objects, many found in the home, how for each object a baby disappears.” Said the Comedian
As the climate zone opened more and more babies disappeared through it. So it was they went up in smoke.
“The now the future all in one magic image,” said the Comedian. They departed from the stage. Leaving the props to their act so that crowds could wonder.

The Court Jester arrived on stage with a curious smile and a wandering hand. It carried upon its face two articulate mouths.
This is what it spoke. “Everything is or not. I do not care less even though I could. Even though I will. In many places do we sleep in many corners do we stand.
And so what we have step right up step right up. Is a difference of opinion. Can it be can it really be that I have lost? What safer way to preserve a soul than bet on a truth as much I dare. Two mouths have I two minds and two opinions.
I cannot see how to avoid the Devil’s snare I must wait the Madman’s noose. You meanwhile whoever you are what riddle is that an opinion for an object a climate for a soul?
A cheap price for all to to be had. No Devil did enchant you no Devil called you home. No value lying in this glorious now.
I never believed in the time old spiritual tale the Universe is only now. If it were then the Devil’s bust is all hot air. Ridicule then must lay this Devil in your heart. What is worth or worst the Devil and its truth or lie or the Madman truth or lie?
The Devil says it has you all alone to itself. The Madman more a worst he says everything is in your opinions and your objects. He kindly does not speak of Devil or God. Only one you to blame only one you to turn to.
If but you can see through all those deceiving opinions. And if only you could have believed him when eyes and brain he spoke to you of opinions and objects. You took no heed.
You think it easy he found by search this truth? That your opinions did ridicule it. Whilst your inner command your soul and heart will shout out to him from its far now distant future. Far from the delights of a spiritual truth. At the rise and fall.
Your soul belongs to me your soul belongs to me. As one goes up the other goes down. No I never believed such a superstitious song. Only that the Devil belongs to you as close to your heart as it beats.
How many of them left? Music to my ears. Why how you do this thing? I say why how you do this thing?
To feel sick and perilous there is no way out no way back to your heart. What opinion could you share to bridge that void that opinionated mistake but lip service. The long service of later tomorrow. How why you do this thing? How why you forget your soul?”

Suddenly at the point when all seemed lost a great and wonderful thing occurred. The Madman stood without brain or eyes. Onto the stage he brought another Mirror. Upon it was written: GOD.
Crowds made their way upon the stage. To the mirror. They spoke. “Look at our beautiful reflections how beautiful a feeling how wonderful, look at our light what splendour what love is in our hearts.” The Mirror spoke. “Have my children forsaken me?”
And the people became silent but for the sobbing tears that rain upon the poisoned Earth. The Mirror burst it laid a part in the human heart that lived. “Have my children forsaken me this day?”

The Witness appeared. “Go forth and speak you that have seen here that you bare witness. For God did not make Africa that it starve. God did not make a climate that it be destroyed. God did not make a future for our children they be not born.”

The crowds rushed away to where they could to find their voice and do the bidding. A small Child alone. Unknowing. Innocent. Cried lonely over the Edge of Reason. Looking down to the dark ravine.
“That is where I come from.” Said the man.
The Child then did look to the man’s right hand. Written was the word Trouble. “What is that?” Said the Child.
“That is where I go. It is like no Trouble ever seen.”
“Watch carefully,” said the man. The man he jumped down head first into the ravine. Soon he returned holding a piece of paper. “Go tell your mummy soon.”
The man wrote upon the Child’s hand; FATE. Upon the other hand DESTINY. The man handed the phone to the Child who departed to its mummy. The phone rang. The Child listened and pointed to the stage. “Mummy Mummy look. Look Mummy look.”

And the Witness appeared. He gave order that the stage be far removed from the Edge of Reason. Some in the crowd complained. The Witness spoke, “You will get your chance. You must wait for the passing of the first Trouble.”
“The one that speaks its heart is the sound of two directions. You will see all that is you in the flesh.”
“Look Mummy that is the place we shall go to meet the Madman.”
“No Child the Madman is fallen he is beaten he is finished. Already he has lost his two brains.”
“No Mummy the Madman has a new brain. In weeks it will speak to us.”
“It is not possible.” Spoke the mother.
The Child said, “I will laugh you will weep Mummy the day you will see him.”
The mother said, “How will I know this Madman I do not know his face.”
The Witness appeared. “You will know it.”
The Mother replied, “I know it not. My Child every day speaks of this Madman, and cries out in its sleep, but no Madman have I seen.”
The Witness said, “You will be called to the stage but not as you might expect. You will wonder is this the place is this the man? I say remember this: who else could call the Child? This the first thing that will occur. The second thing will occur soon after. This the thing that will be the Trouble. What stands there was born in it.”

The Witness showed his heart. Upon it scars. This is what it spoke to the mother: “I bare these pains each to that I call my brother.”
The mother spoke. “You have blood upon your hands.”
The Witness said, “It was my job to take his eyes that he crawl blind in mud with only the rain to keep him company.
None would want to know of such a journey. That what stands is not meant to crawl but to fly. Your Child will be the proof of this. And although you hear these words you do not believe such a thing.
But I tell you Woman so it is the Madman will Call the Child. On a day you will break in tears and upon your knees pray to God.
So it is the second trouble will pass. But no trouble for you Woman. During these times the PhD itch will do the bidding. At this time many will know exactly what it has to do. So it is many will make their way to the Edge of Reason.
Many shall fall there and you will see when Trouble comes home exactly what this trouble is.”

And all saw at this time a Child let go of its mother’s hand. “No Child,” she cried out. But the Child could not hear her. Such was its calling.
The Child ran towards the Edge of Reason and like an angel flew above the ravine. It turned and spoke to its creator. “I am free my spirit is free.”


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