Alcohol dehydrogenase blues.

Alcohol dehydrogenase blues.
Originally uploaded by HyperBob.

Alcohol dehydrogenase blues

You know what; there is a company up in Iceland that has got hold of the medical records of everyone on that island like, and they know about every disease that everyone has ever had. Tonsillitis, high blood pressure, multiple sclerosis, diabetes, schizophrenia; you name it, they know it.

No shit man??? That’s way weird.

Yeah!!! and what they have done is get samples of folks DNA, and looked for certain genes, and come up with the idea that certain genes produce certain diseases. I mean to say, they can even take a sample from a baby in the womb, and tell you if its going to be a spastic or whatever.

Man that’s capital Weird!!! Double hairy gnarly man.

Well they were not making enough money with the DNA analysis thing, so they sell all this information to some big insurance company. And you know what man, they begin to use it to evaluate risks when they sell health insurance. You know, like, if you have a heart attack gene there in no way you are going to get life insurance.

Bummer man, No way!!!

Capital way man. It’s all about risk evaluation, and the next thing you know it’s about crime prevention. I mean to say if the police got a hold of our DNA we’d be shoved straight in the slammer, faster than shit off a hot shovel.

Man your freaking me out, like major big time. Bad vibes man.

Mega mega major freak I’m telling you. Like, would you want to know if you were a Tay-Sachs carrier? You are screwed if you get one base pair wrong. Just one letter wrong. Like one in twenty five Ashkenazi Jews are carriers of Tay-Sachs disease, and they screen themselves so they don’t team up with the wrong partner.

Holy shit, you mean no more screwing around?

Next thing you know there’s a eugenics programme going, and marriage laws about who can wed and what not, and after that, to get it right, people are having designer babies. You know like, they’d have babies with the brains of Albert Einstein and the bodies of Britney Spears.

But what if the babies got Britney’s brains… that would be way cool man, a world of singing babies.

Yeah that would be way cool!!! Babies singing hit me one more time. There must be, just gotta be a singing gene out there. Some protein that codes for good vocal chords, some bit of DNA that gives you perfect pitch. They could inject it into all of those losers that audition for pop-idol.

You mean like a talent gene??? Right on!!!

Exactly!!! You would never need to practice the piano, you would just sit down and play it, and the French could have a language gene implanted so they would be forced to speak something other than Froggie.

Crescent fresh idea dude. They should go for it major like!!!

You want to know something really weird? Like some dude in Japan took the notes from the “Death March” by Mozart and used some strange algorithm to convert them into a protein sequence, and then, when he searched some protein database in Switzerland he found out that the notes had been transcribed into a protein that was responsible for cancer. You get it?

Musical DNA like??? Incredible with a capital in!!!

Exactly!!! So here’s my plan, I mean to say, I am thinking out of the box here. Tossin’ a few ideas around. It’s simple really. You know that serotonin or something like that, some dopamine thing, some chemical from this spliff, or just plain old booze, alters the way we feel, readjusts our brain chemistry. Well we reverse the process, and we turn the chemical or protein or whatever, into music.

Like music is the drug??? That rawks man!!! Kool!!! Sure as hell would knock seven colours of shit out of MTV. We could make millions… Wicked… Yeah!!!

Mega Kool dudester!!!

Alcohol dehydrogenase blues

When we have gone our shadows will remain.

I have tasted the salt of a woman's tears. It was the tenderest of moments. It happened when I kissed her cheek.

When the sun goes away our shadows disappear, but I have cast a shadow that will never disappear, because the Almighty has cast his shadow over me.

I have tasted the salt of my own tears, when they trickled down my cheek. They did not taste bitter.

It is a matter of honour

The girl with down's syndrom said "don't leave me honey," her mother said she had learn it from the "bold and the beautiful" Tv show. I said "that's OK by me Baby".

At the speed bumps she raised her hands and went "Whee!!!" I drove faster at the next speed bump took my hands off the whell and went "Whee!!!" as well. She squirmed in the back seat with laghter.

She was a waitress who during the war served drinks to Mannerheim in the upstairs room at hotel KÄMP. The carpets were so thick her high heel shoes sunk into them.

Both of the war veterans in the back seat were deaf. One said "What did you say?" the other said "What?" and the first one said "What did you say?" and the second one said "What?"

The man who had three strokes wanted to go for a "Kerab" His speech was slured. I took him for a Kebab and he was happy.

The boy's said that his brother with cerebal palsy was called Larry but he prefered to be called Neo after a character from the Matrix.

The man with no legs sat silent in the front seat of the car.

The blind woman could not tell me whether to turn left or right since she did not know the road she was going. When she left me she said "See you".

The woman who had no tongue and could not speak pointed vigourously with her hand to tell me where to go. We arrived exactly where she wanted to go.

The drunk sang two Tapio Rautiovara songs and made me cry. "Kyllä se minne putki kun ihmiset itkea" he said proudly and gave me a 5 euro tip. I will have to cry more often.

She had a club foot and pushed the rollator in front of her and then draged her legs behind it. Her friend was straight out of Sunset Bulevard, her face caked with makeup. She was 80 if she was a day. The lady with the club foot stroked my face and said I was wonderful, while Bette Davis took me by the ears and kissed my cheek, leaving red lipstick on my cheek. I waved at them as I drove away. They tittered behind their hands like young school girls and waved back.

Taxis are of the dead and dying.