Cold Break before Disney

"Kittens' skulls cracked open and electrodes inserted into their brains in shocking series of experiments at 9 UK universities including Cambridge"

Its certainly not headline to win friends, and positively horrifies a wildlife lover like me (as a boy growing up in a wild, green corner of Wales, I adored animals and even attempted to save newts when winter froze our ponds over). I am not exactly thrilled with animal experiments and would, like most caring human beings, prefer living in a world where such barbarism is not necessary but the cold fact is we don't.
Strip away the Disney blinkers and fluffy hearts and the world reveals its naked colour: life is hard, often cruel and extremely unforgiving. This isn't a place of abundant mercy or good deeds. Sure kindness exists but by and large in order to survive a lifetime on planet Earth, you need to be hard or risk being crushed like a toy soldier. (Im really selling this planet to any alien that might read blogs huh?)
Oh we try our damndest to dull the pain, using reality television, videogames, movies and social media in a vain attempt to ignore the raw knocks but it remains in place no matter what. Life is hard, nobody ever said it would be fair. Bogeymen exist at every turn in the form of cancer, dementia, etc and if experiments on animals lead to a breakthrough cure then I'll roll with it regardless of the genuine pity I feel. I dont wish to sound "combatative" here but I take it those against experiments wouldn't accept breakthrough treatment?
Its so easy using mere words, and ive heard some folks claim that they would prefer to suffer before an innocent creature, which is all very admirable but im afraid I cannot believe it. Like I said, words are easy with no threat of danger but if faced with a very real and very lethal terminal illness I wonder if opinions would change? I'd wager good money on it being so.
Death has ruined many a brave souls intention when faced with the final chapter of their lives because you know...death is DEATH and nobody in receipt of a clean bill of health wants to die. I don't care how many dogs or animal charities they help. And take it from someone who has come close to breathing their last: its frightening (to say the least) and most folks would give a barrel load of kittens in order to extend their mortality. Even by just a day.
Add in the fact that 21st century morals are pretty screwed when you consider how much meat most people eat while they condemn things like hunting, and things look even more grim for those purty looking cats. Nobody likes the idea of scientists sticking needles into animals in the name of medicine but if the endgame is triumph over cancer then its worth it no? I realise this subject is like a cold, hard slap in the chops that sobers us up from our coffee laced, fluffy fairytale and the hangover is one we would rather not face but still it remains.

Last Of The Dark

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living ~ Cicero

Death has never been a solemn subject to me, it is has never been taboo. It is fact that I have attended more funerals than weddings but not once have I shed a single tear (and these were close family members). Now before I am accused of being "unfeeling", allow me to explain. I have such a strong belief of a sweet Afterlife, I believe we ALL go there, good or bad, that whenever I find myself standing graveside I am so convinced the departed have "ascended to a better place" (to be glib about it) that no sadness will emerge. Not even by force. No amount of pleasant memories, or clenching fists or straining veins will tempt sorrow from its den.
At times I have wondered if I was simply cold or indifferent toward death but as the years turn into sheaths of grey, I realise my emotions are in check, their pulse alive and screaming. I believe. That is as simple as it gets.
Indeed if I was stood before a Judge about to sentence me to death, or a doctor about to deliver my cancer act in deadly script, I would more than likely grin in reply. (Of course I don't know 100% for sure of that smirking reply but I could lay my heart on it being 95% certain). Naturally I am wary of DYING but the actual DEATH part? Im no more afraid of it than razor steel is to flesh. Or a crocodile to butterfly (but I am being blown off course now).
For me, death has no end and therefore no sorrow. My bones might miss the company and mortal flashes of the deceased but I know, nay feel, that as the coffin is being lowered into its earthly haven or obliterated by flame, that the soul of Man is rising like a stunned eagle into realms where even the finest pearls would look as lowly as paupers rags. Shrugging off mortality and disease as it lifts unto the sanctity of unknown. And these brief shards of endless joy penetrate my mind so deeply, embedding themselves like euphoric clots, that sadness is obliterated, unable to bring me to my knees.
I have my humanity, feelings, and good many things will reduce me to tears but weeping for the dead is beyond my hearts grasp. I think too much, believe I even know too much and doubt can never get over the threshold of my imagination/beliefs to even begin to try and shatter these ideas. Of course every man will have weak moments, and being a man prone to sometimes rampant, wild emotion there are often times when all I am able to imagine after my pulse is done is a wall of black, blinding in its finality.

Not often I am happy to report. Often a good dose of Welsh coastal air or the sight of a buzzard hunting for its supper will remedy that.

No Spoon For Cancer

It is a bold prediction that I am going to make but one that I know from within every crease of my spirit I can make with confidence. I will never get cancer. Ever. It has touched me, when the vicious lung cancer took my uncles life when he was in his forties but never again.
How do I know this? Difficult to explain, suffice to say I am able to tell you that cancerous cells are about as far from my body as far can be. And there are a multitude of other illnesses waiting in my mortal queue to strike me down before cancer will ever get a decent chance.

Golden years of sickness

The thought has never worried me. When I have watched programmes to do with this cruel disease, its as if im watching from a safe distance like a bird would watch a fishing show; feeling sorry for the fish but knowing the hook will never be a threat to him.
Its a curious thing i'll admit but there you go. Life is strange, a mish~mash of the ODD and the MAD, peppered occasionaly with gentler strikes from more forgiving swords. Its best not to question too much because it will usually only serve to frustrate even further.
My lifestyle is ripe for some serious health related catastrophe to pounce upon my sorry frame but instinct (something which has served me impeccably during my time) tells me I am safe from the brute thats is cancer.
You see, I 'feel' the fingers of cholesterol and grease play with my innards and sometimes I am nearly suffocated by pressures within my chest (nothing major, just tingles) but ive never once felt the sickly barbs of something capabale of eating me inside out.
I like to believe that because my body is more like a rubbish bin than a temple, no self respecting cancer cell would ever wish to take residence in my frothy (and perhaps even toxic) organs. Whatever sinister diseases are lurking in the wings, my diet has fermented worse. And it is one of these that will come for me in the dead of night when I am being entertained, or in the early morning when im unawares.