The barmiest piece of unsolicited mail ever

Back when I worked in a faith-based family charity we had an elderly guy write to us pitching his book. His basic premise was that the church was dying out because Christians weren't having enough children. He felt this was an urgent problem that he could do very little about because, as he explained, he was 89, as was his wife who had been severely incapacitated by a stroke.

It was my job to write back to him and decline the pitch. The other thing I remember was he felt contraception was one reason Christians didn't have large families any more. The chapter title for that was "And the Devil Waved a Condom".

That was probably the craziest piece of unsolicited post I've ever been sent, until today, when I got this.

It's 16 pages of unconnected ramblings about God that seems to think it's proven the existence of the Almighty. The key 'proof' is that human beings have evolved and sources of food have evolved and the likelihood of both evolving is so unlikely there must be a God. Convinced, yet? No, me neither.

Here are some sample bits from the document. This is a very odd introductory semi-disclaimer.

Yes, why did you invent it? Well, anyway, I'm sure your Mum and Dad are proud. Then there's this non-sequitur...

Yes, you've dismissed the equation of God and so we need the electric chair. Huh? Next up there's some quality scientific reasoning.

It's about science! And then we have this last bit which has the most bizarre concluding sentence ever.

So, cats getting thirsty is evidence for God. I think. Who knows what he means there?

Anyway, the whole thing concludes with a plea for assistance in getting this published and given to every schoolchild in the land. Tempting as it is to get back in touch and see if there is any more laugh out loud nonsense to read, I don't have to (unlike devil-waving-condom guy), so I think I might let this pass.

Things I'd like to see less of in 2013

Presuming the apocalypse turns out tobe a non-event, here are some things I'd like to see left in 2012

People Facebook tagging me in photos of their babies
I know you think everyone in the world wants to see every photo of your precious bundle of joy, but trust me on this, nobody in the world finds your sproglet as enduringly fascinating as you do. I’ll see your photo on my timeline anyway. I don’t need notifiying that twenty-seven people like a photo that I’m tagged in when I’m not even in it. It’s annoying. Next person to do it to me will get a comment about how ugly their child is.

Media fawning over the Duchess of Cambridge
It’s nothing personal. I’m sure Kate’s a nice gal and there are far worse people who could be in the papers every week (cough, cough, Katie Price, cough). But she should be allowed to be pregnant in private. We don’t need ridiculous baby bump photospreads taking up acres of newspaper space. Leave her alone!

Adverts for staged 'reality' TV shows
Just the adverts for Made in Chelsea annoy me. If I wanted to listen to a collection of narcissists awkwardly pontificate as if everything they say is cosmically significant, then I’d pay attention to the pundits on Match of the Day. Speaking of which...

Montage introductions to the ‘big’ game on Match of the Day
I tune in to watch the goals, flashpoints and other highlights in the football, not to be subjected to the work of the film studies intern who thinks banging together a load of fuzzed up footage over an indie track is somehow ground-breaking. There was one a couple of weeks ago that was so tenuously linked to the game in question even Gary Lineker, the master of non-sequitur segues, said he didn't know what it was about. It wasn't so bad when it was a very occasional bit of filler. But this is a case when less is definitely more. And none would be better.

Erofic
I’ve not read Fifty Shades of Grey because, like Twilight before it, it looks godawful, people who’ve read it say it’s terribly badly written, and it’s incredibly popular, which as a general rule of thumb means it’s going to be trash (the lowest common denominator is firmly at work when it comes to culture, witness the unwatchable crud of Saturday night TV schedules). Unfortunately, judging by the garbage clogging up the supermarket bookshelves, it seems every publishing house is now trying to cash in on the Fifty Shades success, even down to making sure there’s a ‘colour’ in the title and the cover is a random object artfully shot in black and white.