According to the invariably inaccurate Yahoo! Answers, the average vocabulary of human Americans currently hovers around 10,000 words.
I'm unconvinced, partially because the cited "source" for the Yahoo! Answer is actually an article attempting to disprove that 10,000 words in the average vocabulary. But mainly because I'm pretty sure the average American can name more than 10,000 fast-food brands.
I kid, my American readers (although I would argue that simply clicking on a page and staring blankly at a large cacophony of letters doesn't technically count as reading). An American with a vocabulary of 10,000 words is unlikely to be able to list 'cacophony' as one that they understand.
This is a relief to me, as I have used it incorrectly.
But that doesn't matter.
Because you don't know what it means.
Let us unshackle ourselves from the burden of any further introduction in which I make points that will later be relevant. No, instead we sally forth onto the main event.
I am troubled by the future of the English language.
When people talk to me and use phrases like "bored of", I get annoyed.
Then they get annoyed at me because I'm annoyed.
"Why does it matter?" they ask "you still understand what I mean"
The smarter and pseudo-smarter amongst them may quote Stephen Fry, who once said on QI (and I paraphrase):
"Language must change. It always has done, and to try to stop it now is foolish".
I must disagree, Stephen, I must.
See, I think it would be a perfectly rational statement if it were not for one thing. One thing that has revolutionised us, and continues to do so:
The internet.
Let me explain. English is a fairly universal language. Though apparently not as common a first language as Spanish or Mandarin Chinese, it by far the common second language.
There are estimated to be over 1.025 billion people who speak Mandarin Chinese to a reasonable degree. 845 million of those are native speakers.
English only has about 350 million native speakers, but has over 1.5 billion who understand it to some degree.
Ergo, English is the most important language for overcoming international barriers and establishing meaning. It is therefore absolutely vital that we preserve it as close to its taught form as possible.
What good is 1.5 speakers of English all speaking a completely different type of English that no-one understands. The internet has broken down barriers. We are now more able to communicate than ever before.
We need to keep the English language as what it is, because without it, we lose our best chance to improve the only thing that can ever help us empathise with the world around us: communication.
Tuesday 20 December 2011
Saturday 17 December 2011
David Cameron, and the dangers of being agnostic.
It's a sad time for atheist. Christopher Hitchens, one of the finest minds of his generation, has died. And now we've got this bullshit.
So David Cameron has explained that he thinks that the UK needs to revert to it's "traditional Christian values" in an effort to "counter Britain's "moral collapse" ".
Interestingly, and pleasingly, 2 of my friends who don't know each other both reacted with the phrase "Fuck Off Cameron" to this news story.
Depressingly, however, I worry about whether he is wrong or not. Or at least whether the majority of the UK would perceive him to be wrong.
In the most part my Facebook is well educated and enlightened. I would hope that it is also mostly atheist (or at least agnostic, but we are about to get to that) and the absolutely crucial thing is that it understands why it is, and needs to be, atheist.
See, I worry that while a high majority of the UK might consider itself to have "no religion", that it's not because they are enlightened.
It's simply because they can't be bothered.
See having a faith means quite a lot of hard work. There is praying. There is attending services. There is abstaining from the world's finest pleasures.
I think a lot of people who now consider themselves to have no religion do so because they can't be bothered to go through the rigmarole and effort.
They still want to get into heaven though. They still think their dead grandparents have gone to a 'better place'. They still want there to be something else beyond us.
That's what worries me. These people are not atheists. They want to believe. And that is dangerous.
I always think that the aforementioned Christopher Hitchens actually presents a much more convincing case for why you shouldn't want to be religious, rather than why religion is incorrect. Detractors from him would often point out that much of his argument rested on God being a terrible thing and bad for humans, but that regardless whether he was right about that, he couldn't disprove that God was actually there.
Hitchens articulated anti-religious sentiments in a far more effective way than I ever could. And I would highly recommend watching any of the many videos on YouTube to any agnostics. (For full on Christians you can't beat a bit of Dawkins or Sam Harris).
Just as a simple example, David Cameron notes that we are built on Christian values, but ethically that argument never stands up. I mean, we can talk about the ten commandments telling us not steal or kill people or covet our neighbours stuff.
But come on, you're saying the human race just thought murdering and stealing was OK before God came down and said "don't do that"?
If you want their to be a higher power always aware of your thoughts and judging you because of them, then you might as well be a slave.
It is not enough to be agnostic. Being agnostic means you are always going to open to the lies of religion.
The UK needs to understand that we only have this one life. And it is fleeting, so make the most of it. And make it as pleasant as possible for yourself and everyone else. We don't need a religious moral code, we just need to be decent human beings. We are all we have.
So David Cameron has explained that he thinks that the UK needs to revert to it's "traditional Christian values" in an effort to "counter Britain's "moral collapse" ".
Interestingly, and pleasingly, 2 of my friends who don't know each other both reacted with the phrase "Fuck Off Cameron" to this news story.
Depressingly, however, I worry about whether he is wrong or not. Or at least whether the majority of the UK would perceive him to be wrong.
In the most part my Facebook is well educated and enlightened. I would hope that it is also mostly atheist (or at least agnostic, but we are about to get to that) and the absolutely crucial thing is that it understands why it is, and needs to be, atheist.
See, I worry that while a high majority of the UK might consider itself to have "no religion", that it's not because they are enlightened.
It's simply because they can't be bothered.
See having a faith means quite a lot of hard work. There is praying. There is attending services. There is abstaining from the world's finest pleasures.
I think a lot of people who now consider themselves to have no religion do so because they can't be bothered to go through the rigmarole and effort.
They still want to get into heaven though. They still think their dead grandparents have gone to a 'better place'. They still want there to be something else beyond us.
That's what worries me. These people are not atheists. They want to believe. And that is dangerous.
I always think that the aforementioned Christopher Hitchens actually presents a much more convincing case for why you shouldn't want to be religious, rather than why religion is incorrect. Detractors from him would often point out that much of his argument rested on God being a terrible thing and bad for humans, but that regardless whether he was right about that, he couldn't disprove that God was actually there.
Hitchens articulated anti-religious sentiments in a far more effective way than I ever could. And I would highly recommend watching any of the many videos on YouTube to any agnostics. (For full on Christians you can't beat a bit of Dawkins or Sam Harris).
Just as a simple example, David Cameron notes that we are built on Christian values, but ethically that argument never stands up. I mean, we can talk about the ten commandments telling us not steal or kill people or covet our neighbours stuff.
But come on, you're saying the human race just thought murdering and stealing was OK before God came down and said "don't do that"?
If you want their to be a higher power always aware of your thoughts and judging you because of them, then you might as well be a slave.
It is not enough to be agnostic. Being agnostic means you are always going to open to the lies of religion.
The UK needs to understand that we only have this one life. And it is fleeting, so make the most of it. And make it as pleasant as possible for yourself and everyone else. We don't need a religious moral code, we just need to be decent human beings. We are all we have.
Tired.
I get tired of this sometimes.
I get tired of everything always being OK, but nothing ever being great.
I get tired of working hard and finding my prospects diminishing.
I get tired of increasingly realising that it isn't anything tangible that I do the brings me my success, but more a case of being in the right place at the right time.
Blind luck.
I get tired of the sheer mediocrity of so many people. And the praise they get just because they are louder than some people who are brilliant.
I get tired of people greedily reaching for the quick option, rather than patiently waiting for the best.
I get tired of selfishness, and greed, and pettiness, and stupidity, and pessimism, and lethargy, and apathy.
I get tired that I see this around me every single day, and that 95% of people remind me constantly of exactly what I hate about everything.
And I get tired that it won't ever change. Maybe I'll change, maybe I'll get a bit happier and forget all my negativity, but all this will still be true.
I get tired of everything always being OK, but nothing ever being great.
I get tired of working hard and finding my prospects diminishing.
I get tired of increasingly realising that it isn't anything tangible that I do the brings me my success, but more a case of being in the right place at the right time.
Blind luck.
I get tired of the sheer mediocrity of so many people. And the praise they get just because they are louder than some people who are brilliant.
I get tired of people greedily reaching for the quick option, rather than patiently waiting for the best.
I get tired of selfishness, and greed, and pettiness, and stupidity, and pessimism, and lethargy, and apathy.
I get tired that I see this around me every single day, and that 95% of people remind me constantly of exactly what I hate about everything.
And I get tired that it won't ever change. Maybe I'll change, maybe I'll get a bit happier and forget all my negativity, but all this will still be true.
Friday 16 December 2011
Hitch.
Christopher Hitchens has died.
I mentioned him before in my 'Quotes' blog. I think he is the first celebrity hero of mine to die in my lifetime, certainly the first one when I have been more cognitively aware of what it means to mourn.
I am sad about it. I'm sad he won't be around to fight against religion or to surprise me with his views.
When I logged onto BBC News, the most read story was about Amy Pond leaving Dr Who next year. Hitch's death was 7th on the most read. That made me sad too.
Reports often incorrectly label him as 'right-wing', mainly just because he supported the Iraq War. Effectively though his political thoughts didn't really work in wings. He was merely taking atheism to its logical conclusion.
Against political correctness, it wasn't Iraq that he felt needed opposing, but rather Islam itself. That was the heart of his argument. All religion needed opposition to expose it.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Buy all his books I haven't read, I guess.
I mentioned him before in my 'Quotes' blog. I think he is the first celebrity hero of mine to die in my lifetime, certainly the first one when I have been more cognitively aware of what it means to mourn.
I am sad about it. I'm sad he won't be around to fight against religion or to surprise me with his views.
When I logged onto BBC News, the most read story was about Amy Pond leaving Dr Who next year. Hitch's death was 7th on the most read. That made me sad too.
Reports often incorrectly label him as 'right-wing', mainly just because he supported the Iraq War. Effectively though his political thoughts didn't really work in wings. He was merely taking atheism to its logical conclusion.
Against political correctness, it wasn't Iraq that he felt needed opposing, but rather Islam itself. That was the heart of his argument. All religion needed opposition to expose it.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Buy all his books I haven't read, I guess.
Thursday 15 December 2011
The party in your pocket.
I run out of credit on my phone sometimes.
I'm a rarity in Generation Y, and in fact a rarity in the under-50 middle class generally, I believe, in that I don't have a mobile phone contract.
It actually frustrates me when some people have them. People who can't afford taxis home after nights out, or people who complain constantly on Facebook about being poor. But anyway.
I don't have a contract for my mobile phone for a variety of reasons. One is that getting a contract would inevitably mean getting a 'smart-phone' and I don't want that for a variety of reasons. But until last night I found it difficult to articulate those reasons. Then last night I watched "Books: The Last Chapter" on the BBC.
I've got a few opinions on the show too, but just for the moment we'll leave them behind. But there was an author who was asked why he disconnected himself from the Internet and technology. I'm going to paraphrase what he said, with my own take:
Imagine that all your friends are at a party, and they are inviting you, constantly. It becomes very difficult to say no. Now imagine that the party is going on all the time, and the party is in your pocket. Through your smart-phone you are continuously connected to he party. And everyone's invited to the party, not just your friends, but your family, and your acquaintances and your enemies.
How can you pay attention to what's going on around you? How can you work productively? How can you gain intellectual stimulation? You become so concentrated on the party in your pocket that you neglect real life.
Don't tell me it doesn't happen because I see people doing it.
I'm a rarity in Generation Y, and in fact a rarity in the under-50 middle class generally, I believe, in that I don't have a mobile phone contract.
It actually frustrates me when some people have them. People who can't afford taxis home after nights out, or people who complain constantly on Facebook about being poor. But anyway.
I don't have a contract for my mobile phone for a variety of reasons. One is that getting a contract would inevitably mean getting a 'smart-phone' and I don't want that for a variety of reasons. But until last night I found it difficult to articulate those reasons. Then last night I watched "Books: The Last Chapter" on the BBC.
I've got a few opinions on the show too, but just for the moment we'll leave them behind. But there was an author who was asked why he disconnected himself from the Internet and technology. I'm going to paraphrase what he said, with my own take:
Imagine that all your friends are at a party, and they are inviting you, constantly. It becomes very difficult to say no. Now imagine that the party is going on all the time, and the party is in your pocket. Through your smart-phone you are continuously connected to he party. And everyone's invited to the party, not just your friends, but your family, and your acquaintances and your enemies.
How can you pay attention to what's going on around you? How can you work productively? How can you gain intellectual stimulation? You become so concentrated on the party in your pocket that you neglect real life.
Don't tell me it doesn't happen because I see people doing it.
Tuesday 6 December 2011
Lying.
I always wonder how much people lie to me.
Personally, I lie quite a lot. Not generally intentionally. I'll exaggerate or embellish stories about my life. Not really for my benefit, but for the listener. I tell people I like things that I really don't. I pretend I haven't heard stories they have told me. I even pretend I know less about certain things than I do, so that they can feel like they are teaching me something (although admittedly I'm becoming very bad at this one).
But worst of all, I just generally lie sometimes.
I can think of two 'facts' about my life that are a lie, but they are lies that I am comitted to (I'm sure there are a few, actually). Usually I have either lied to fit in, or to attempt to not fit in, because I'm patholigically allergic to conforming (EDIT: or constructing meaning correctly, it would appear).
I just wonder whether other people are like me. Do they commit themselves to lies? And do they tell the lie again to reinforce it? Are they then bound to tell that lie to other people so that should the question be raised again in front of both parties, a contradictory answer would not need to be explained?
Because I do. If I'm going to lie, I like to make it watertight. I'll tell people who don't even need to know, so that if just by accident it happens to come up between two mutual friends of mine they will both already agree.
I construct a web of lies.
But lying plays an important part in my life. And that is in tempering myself, because, left to my own devices, I'd be pretty angry with a lot of people most of the time. Effectively I am lying by not telling them what I really think about them.
See the trouble is I'm basically limited to two choices. The first is telling people what I think about them all the time, and have them hate me for it. Or two, letting people constantly get away with being the dick-heads that they are, making life difficult for everyone who isn't them and encouraging the selfish behavior that they exhibit.
I'm running out of friends to alienate as it is. I can't afford to lose anymore. A few weeks ago my friends staged an impromptu intervention in which I was told I wasn't allowed to have any opinions about anything anymore because I was becoming too forthright, arrogant and aggressive in vocalising them.
I understand where they are coming from, and I am becoming a bit too bitter and annoying (I've effectively started 'blogging' out loud in real life) but they are my actual friends. My friends. If my friends can't stand me having some conflicting opinions about iPhones and poppies what will people think when I start telling them that their attitudes to life are a joke, and that if I wasn't bound the duties of the law, I would happily kill them and enjoy watching them die.
I don't feel murderous about everyone, in case the police are reading this blog in a future murder investigation against me, just a couple of people (and, no, not the one that I'm accused of killing today, Mr/Ms. Police Officer)
Personally, I lie quite a lot. Not generally intentionally. I'll exaggerate or embellish stories about my life. Not really for my benefit, but for the listener. I tell people I like things that I really don't. I pretend I haven't heard stories they have told me. I even pretend I know less about certain things than I do, so that they can feel like they are teaching me something (although admittedly I'm becoming very bad at this one).
But worst of all, I just generally lie sometimes.
I can think of two 'facts' about my life that are a lie, but they are lies that I am comitted to (I'm sure there are a few, actually). Usually I have either lied to fit in, or to attempt to not fit in, because I'm patholigically allergic to conforming (EDIT: or constructing meaning correctly, it would appear).
I just wonder whether other people are like me. Do they commit themselves to lies? And do they tell the lie again to reinforce it? Are they then bound to tell that lie to other people so that should the question be raised again in front of both parties, a contradictory answer would not need to be explained?
Because I do. If I'm going to lie, I like to make it watertight. I'll tell people who don't even need to know, so that if just by accident it happens to come up between two mutual friends of mine they will both already agree.
I construct a web of lies.
But lying plays an important part in my life. And that is in tempering myself, because, left to my own devices, I'd be pretty angry with a lot of people most of the time. Effectively I am lying by not telling them what I really think about them.
See the trouble is I'm basically limited to two choices. The first is telling people what I think about them all the time, and have them hate me for it. Or two, letting people constantly get away with being the dick-heads that they are, making life difficult for everyone who isn't them and encouraging the selfish behavior that they exhibit.
I'm running out of friends to alienate as it is. I can't afford to lose anymore. A few weeks ago my friends staged an impromptu intervention in which I was told I wasn't allowed to have any opinions about anything anymore because I was becoming too forthright, arrogant and aggressive in vocalising them.
I understand where they are coming from, and I am becoming a bit too bitter and annoying (I've effectively started 'blogging' out loud in real life) but they are my actual friends. My friends. If my friends can't stand me having some conflicting opinions about iPhones and poppies what will people think when I start telling them that their attitudes to life are a joke, and that if I wasn't bound the duties of the law, I would happily kill them and enjoy watching them die.
I don't feel murderous about everyone, in case the police are reading this blog in a future murder investigation against me, just a couple of people (and, no, not the one that I'm accused of killing today, Mr/Ms. Police Officer)
Saturday 3 December 2011
The working annoyed.
I've never really had a situation before where I've had to do work, but I'm also really annoyed and angry. The trouble is that it begins to seep into what I write, and it also creates this kind of atmosphere where you begin to hate the work for what it is. I like writing, but now everything I write is making me increasingly angry.
I don't have a lot else to say, but I had to write it somewhere.
I don't have a lot else to say, but I had to write it somewhere.
Friday 2 December 2011
Art.
Now, I'm terrible at drawing. Any type of art, in fact, that doesn't involve words. I can't sculpt, or paint, or arrange or anything. I am artistically numb.
To 'illustrate' this (ha ha ha), here is a picture of a mouse I attempted to draw from memory:
This isn't a joke. This is what happened when I tried to picture a mouse, and then attempted to make my hand reproduce it.
See, I think I have two problems in terms of drawing.
The first problem is that I clearly can't draw. Now, I could potentially learn. But the second problem makes this pointless. The second problem is that I can't visualise things. I can't see in my mind what a mouse might look like. I know what it looks like. But I can't see it. I can remember bits, but not the mouse a whole.
You know, as I describe it sounds more and more like a mental illness. Maybe that's true.
With that in mind. I have decided to become an artist.
I might even buy some nice paint and paint brushes and start doing some nice pictures.
My mum recommended I do abstract works. I replied that I felt I was incapable of not doing abstract works.
I plan to become a millionaire from the art-work that I despise, whilst my writing goes unnoticed. I would come to hate everything I stand for, and eventually attempt some sort of creative suicide.
 |
| A mouse. Obviously. |
This isn't a joke. This is what happened when I tried to picture a mouse, and then attempted to make my hand reproduce it.
See, I think I have two problems in terms of drawing.
The first problem is that I clearly can't draw. Now, I could potentially learn. But the second problem makes this pointless. The second problem is that I can't visualise things. I can't see in my mind what a mouse might look like. I know what it looks like. But I can't see it. I can remember bits, but not the mouse a whole.
You know, as I describe it sounds more and more like a mental illness. Maybe that's true.
With that in mind. I have decided to become an artist.
I might even buy some nice paint and paint brushes and start doing some nice pictures.
My mum recommended I do abstract works. I replied that I felt I was incapable of not doing abstract works.
I plan to become a millionaire from the art-work that I despise, whilst my writing goes unnoticed. I would come to hate everything I stand for, and eventually attempt some sort of creative suicide.
Monday 28 November 2011
Clumsist
I bet you think that being clumsy is a bad personality trait. Well, I'm here today to argue the opposite. Let us begin.
I'm quite clumsy. It's a generally held belief. I spill drinks. I accidentally drop stuff. I trip over. I bump into people. And people get annoyed. They tell me being clumsy is a bad thing. They tell me to pay more attention to what I'm doing.
But if I waste all that time to such mundane tasks such as pouring drinks or walking, I lose valuable thinking time for other things. My mind is occupied elsewhere, I'm thinking about something else. Clumsiness is caused by being distract. But I am distracted by more interesting and important things than whatever it is I'm being clumsy with.
So, don't mock the clumsy. We're a kind and noble people more interested in the bigger picture than the dull constraints life places upon us in the day-to-day. Support us, don't be nasty.
Imagine if the future inventor of the cure for cancer happens to have a brainwave just as she's pouring out a glass of apple juice. If she spills her apple juice because of it, her friends and family may laugh at her and deride her confidence. The humiliation would in turn make her forget her cancer brainwave.
So the next time you laugh at someone clumsy just remember that over 1,500 people die from cancer every day in the United States alone.
I'm quite clumsy. It's a generally held belief. I spill drinks. I accidentally drop stuff. I trip over. I bump into people. And people get annoyed. They tell me being clumsy is a bad thing. They tell me to pay more attention to what I'm doing.
But if I waste all that time to such mundane tasks such as pouring drinks or walking, I lose valuable thinking time for other things. My mind is occupied elsewhere, I'm thinking about something else. Clumsiness is caused by being distract. But I am distracted by more interesting and important things than whatever it is I'm being clumsy with.
So, don't mock the clumsy. We're a kind and noble people more interested in the bigger picture than the dull constraints life places upon us in the day-to-day. Support us, don't be nasty.
Imagine if the future inventor of the cure for cancer happens to have a brainwave just as she's pouring out a glass of apple juice. If she spills her apple juice because of it, her friends and family may laugh at her and deride her confidence. The humiliation would in turn make her forget her cancer brainwave.
So the next time you laugh at someone clumsy just remember that over 1,500 people die from cancer every day in the United States alone.
Friday 25 November 2011
Quotes.
Quotes out of context are often meaningless, or at the very least rendered vapid, but I still love them, and I love quoting those quotes. So this post will not be an interesting and thought provoking attack on the use of quotes as sound-bites, and their lack of insight, verbatim or otherwise. No. It will be a simple list of some quotes I like, on a variety of different topics.
Christopher Hitchens. An extensive list of excellent quotes could probably be derived just from having a 10-minute conversation with him. I'm paraphrasing from an article written by his friend Martin Amis, that is no longer available on the Guardian's website, that he is a terrifying rhetorician.
Christopher Hitchens speaks the way that I wish I could write. He rails off frighteningly articulate sentences on arbitrary subjects as if he had been practicing them in the mirror for the last five years of his life.
He primarily speaks on the subject of religion. He's an atheist and in fact an anti-theist. At times he is also deliriously right-wing, and that's annoying. But you can't help be taken in by his arguments just from his incredible ability to vocalise them.
“Faith is the surrender of the mind; it's the surrender of reason, it's the surrender of the only thing that makes us different from other mammals. It's our need to believe, and to surrender our skepticism and our reason, our yearning to discard that and put all our trust or faith in someone or something, that is the sinister thing to me. Of all the supposed virtues, faith must be the most overrated.”
"That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence."
I also very much like the following quotes, not from Hitch, and in no order of preference, and no over-riding theme, just some words that I like. Many are lyrics.
"If the crowd gets behind you it means you are facing the wrong way" - Simon Munnery
"The only thing that's left to do is live" - Frank Turner
"True progress means matching the world to the vision in our heads. We always change the vision instead" - Thrice
" 'And we learn, as we age', we've learned nothing, and my body still aches" - Brand New
"A comprehensive study of its causes" - Stewart Lee (his best punch-line)
"'Cause a few mother's sons will never really be enough. Not 'til half of our names are etched out in the wall. And the other half ruined by the things we saw" - Brand New
"If it's still gonna hurt in the morning, and a better plan's yet to get forming, then where's the harm spending an evening in manning the old barricades" - Frank Turner
"So I don't see it like it's us and them
I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend
Droning on and on and on and never doing what we wanted
Heavy legs two steps behind some forever dangling carrot.
And I'm tired of this
So who's to say that we can't just fucking change it?
And I know it seems dramatic
But I treat it like a crisis
The office to the coffin
All our time and talent wasted
And that weight against your throat
Is that a noose dressed like a necklace?" - Kevin Devine
Christopher Hitchens. An extensive list of excellent quotes could probably be derived just from having a 10-minute conversation with him. I'm paraphrasing from an article written by his friend Martin Amis, that is no longer available on the Guardian's website, that he is a terrifying rhetorician.
Christopher Hitchens speaks the way that I wish I could write. He rails off frighteningly articulate sentences on arbitrary subjects as if he had been practicing them in the mirror for the last five years of his life.
He primarily speaks on the subject of religion. He's an atheist and in fact an anti-theist. At times he is also deliriously right-wing, and that's annoying. But you can't help be taken in by his arguments just from his incredible ability to vocalise them.
“Faith is the surrender of the mind; it's the surrender of reason, it's the surrender of the only thing that makes us different from other mammals. It's our need to believe, and to surrender our skepticism and our reason, our yearning to discard that and put all our trust or faith in someone or something, that is the sinister thing to me. Of all the supposed virtues, faith must be the most overrated.”
"That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence."
I also very much like the following quotes, not from Hitch, and in no order of preference, and no over-riding theme, just some words that I like. Many are lyrics.
"If the crowd gets behind you it means you are facing the wrong way" - Simon Munnery
"The only thing that's left to do is live" - Frank Turner
"True progress means matching the world to the vision in our heads. We always change the vision instead" - Thrice
" 'And we learn, as we age', we've learned nothing, and my body still aches" - Brand New
"A comprehensive study of its causes" - Stewart Lee (his best punch-line)
"'Cause a few mother's sons will never really be enough. Not 'til half of our names are etched out in the wall. And the other half ruined by the things we saw" - Brand New
"If it's still gonna hurt in the morning, and a better plan's yet to get forming, then where's the harm spending an evening in manning the old barricades" - Frank Turner
"So I don't see it like it's us and them
I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend
Droning on and on and on and never doing what we wanted
Heavy legs two steps behind some forever dangling carrot.
And I'm tired of this
So who's to say that we can't just fucking change it?
And I know it seems dramatic
But I treat it like a crisis
The office to the coffin
All our time and talent wasted
And that weight against your throat
Is that a noose dressed like a necklace?" - Kevin Devine
Saturday 19 November 2011
Music today
When I think about music now, I feel really sorry for kids. When was I was just discovering that I loved music there were so many small music labels promoting all sorts of different bands. These days all the small labels have been bought by big labels and so their agenda has become exactly the same: bands that make money.
So many of best experiences come from listening to brilliant music, and I'm the person I am today in no small part due to the excellent variety of alternative available to me as a kid.
When I was a kid there were so many good British bands: Funeral for a Friend, Biffy Clyro, Lostprophets, Hell Is For Heroes, Hundred Reasons, Reuben, My Vitriol, InMe, Vex Red, Million Dead, Fony, and I could go on.
There were countless American bands as well, too many to try to name, but they spanned all sorts of genres, emo, nu-metal, punk, metal, indie rock, acoustic, pop rock.
What exactly are alternative kids supposed to listen to? The British music scene is dead, and the American scene falls into to two categories: pop-metal and pop-punk. There is nothing else.
So many of best experiences come from listening to brilliant music, and I'm the person I am today in no small part due to the excellent variety of alternative available to me as a kid.
When I was a kid there were so many good British bands: Funeral for a Friend, Biffy Clyro, Lostprophets, Hell Is For Heroes, Hundred Reasons, Reuben, My Vitriol, InMe, Vex Red, Million Dead, Fony, and I could go on.
There were countless American bands as well, too many to try to name, but they spanned all sorts of genres, emo, nu-metal, punk, metal, indie rock, acoustic, pop rock.
What exactly are alternative kids supposed to listen to? The British music scene is dead, and the American scene falls into to two categories: pop-metal and pop-punk. There is nothing else.
Thursday 17 November 2011
Energy drinks.
I drink energy drinks, sometimes.
Red Bull, or the cheap Tesco equivalent usually.
I don't know why I do it.
I know it's tricking me.
On the packaging of my 'KX Energy Stimulation Drink' the largest letters read: "Fire up and focus your body and mind with stimulating caffeine, taurine, guarana and B Vitamins."
Aside from being an utterly ridiculous and clunky piece of advertising copy-writing, it is also, quite frankly rubbish.
Limited to the truth, the can would read:
"Fire up and focus your body and mind with the fuck load of sugar we pump into these things"
That's what gives you the energy boost. The sugar. Not the fucking guarana. The sugar!
One little 250ml can which I effectively down in about 2 or 3 minutes contains nearly 30% of my recommended daily intake of sugar.
I had two of them yesterday. 60% of my daily sugar in two cans of drink.
I don't even know why.
Why not use up that sugar on something that doesn't taste like someone has swallowed a whole packet of Skittles, let it reduce in their stomach acid for half an hour or so, then vomited it back into your mouth.
Red Bull, or the cheap Tesco equivalent usually.
I don't know why I do it.
I know it's tricking me.
On the packaging of my 'KX Energy Stimulation Drink' the largest letters read: "Fire up and focus your body and mind with stimulating caffeine, taurine, guarana and B Vitamins."
Aside from being an utterly ridiculous and clunky piece of advertising copy-writing, it is also, quite frankly rubbish.
Limited to the truth, the can would read:
"Fire up and focus your body and mind with the fuck load of sugar we pump into these things"
That's what gives you the energy boost. The sugar. Not the fucking guarana. The sugar!
One little 250ml can which I effectively down in about 2 or 3 minutes contains nearly 30% of my recommended daily intake of sugar.
I had two of them yesterday. 60% of my daily sugar in two cans of drink.
I don't even know why.
Why not use up that sugar on something that doesn't taste like someone has swallowed a whole packet of Skittles, let it reduce in their stomach acid for half an hour or so, then vomited it back into your mouth.
Thursday 10 November 2011
Business.
I've had a brilliant idea to make business fairer.
How about a system for business where, the person at the top can only earn a certain percentage more than the person at the bottom. Say 400%
So a cleaner on pro-rata £12,000 a year doesn't have the company director earning £500,000 plus benefits. The most that director can earn is £48,000. If they want to give themselves £80,000 a year, then the rest of the staff's money has to be changed accordingly, and the cleaner has to be on pro-rata £20,000 a year.
Maybe the figure needs to be higher than 40%. But I still think it's a brilliant idea.
How about a system for business where, the person at the top can only earn a certain percentage more than the person at the bottom. Say 400%
So a cleaner on pro-rata £12,000 a year doesn't have the company director earning £500,000 plus benefits. The most that director can earn is £48,000. If they want to give themselves £80,000 a year, then the rest of the staff's money has to be changed accordingly, and the cleaner has to be on pro-rata £20,000 a year.
Maybe the figure needs to be higher than 40%. But I still think it's a brilliant idea.
Wednesday 9 November 2011
Religion, again.
I'm due a Christianity rant, so here we go.
In this rant I am targeting full-on Christians, who believe the Bible, this rant probably doesn't apply to the lackeys spouting their "I believe in God, but..." excuses.
There is a brilliant quote from Ben-Stiller-lookalike atheist Sam Harris. It reads:
“Tell a devout Christian that his wife is cheating on him, or that frozen yogurt can make a man invisible, and he is likely to require as much evidence as anyone else, and to be persuaded only to the extent that you give it. Tell him that the book he keeps by his bed was written by an invisible deity who will punish him with fire for eternity if he fails to accept its every incredible claim about the universe, and he seems to require no evidence what so ever.”
It's true. And I'm afraid to say that in all likelihood (unless you're a "born again Christian"), the following is also true:
The only reason you believe in God, is because when you were a child, your parents, or other adults that you trusted told you that God existed, and told you things from the Bible.
It's the same reason you believed in Father Christmas.
(I remember believing in Father Christmas, I can't remember ever believing in God. I think it might be because there is actually a lot more practical evidence for the existence of Father Christmas, you see him most Winters hanging out in shopping centres)
When your parents told you Father Christmas doesn't exist, that it's just a silly story to protect your innocence. Well, Christians, I'm doing the same thing for you now.
Sorry. You cried when mummy told you Father Christmas wasn't real, and it'll hurt just as bad: God just isn't real.
Like Sam Harris says, in any other case, if someone asserts something you will ask for evidence. If I tell you I can fly, it's pretty reasonable for you to expect me send a couple of minutes suspended in mid-air to prove it.
But what's that you say? On the surface it doesn't matter if I can fly or not. Even if you believe me without evidence it's not doing you any harm to believe that I can fly.
So, how about I say: I can fly. Now worship me because of it.
Will you require evidence then?
I can fly. Now donate money to me.
Will you require evidence then?
I can fly. Now go to war and die because of it.
Will you require evidence then?
An argument I hear regularly from Christians is:
How did it all start then? If there is no God to create the universe, no divine architect, how did the universe go from not being, to being.
Well, let's start by saying I'm not a scientist. There are many theories. But in all probability, the answer right now is: we don't know.
That doesn't mean we won't ever know.
I'm willing to bet that there are a lot of people who, for example, would know if you asked them:
How does an electric guitar's sound come out of an amplifier. (Many people do know, but I bet there are a lot of people who don't).
Just because they don't know doesn't mean there isn't a scientific explanation. The fact that you don't know about amplifiers doesn't mean you can't ever know. And it's the same with science.
We haven't always known everything we know now. We'll probably never know everything. But that doesn't mean we should stop trying and just say: God did it.
God didn't do it. There is no God.
In this rant I am targeting full-on Christians, who believe the Bible, this rant probably doesn't apply to the lackeys spouting their "I believe in God, but..." excuses.
There is a brilliant quote from Ben-Stiller-lookalike atheist Sam Harris. It reads:
“Tell a devout Christian that his wife is cheating on him, or that frozen yogurt can make a man invisible, and he is likely to require as much evidence as anyone else, and to be persuaded only to the extent that you give it. Tell him that the book he keeps by his bed was written by an invisible deity who will punish him with fire for eternity if he fails to accept its every incredible claim about the universe, and he seems to require no evidence what so ever.”
It's true. And I'm afraid to say that in all likelihood (unless you're a "born again Christian"), the following is also true:
The only reason you believe in God, is because when you were a child, your parents, or other adults that you trusted told you that God existed, and told you things from the Bible.
It's the same reason you believed in Father Christmas.
(I remember believing in Father Christmas, I can't remember ever believing in God. I think it might be because there is actually a lot more practical evidence for the existence of Father Christmas, you see him most Winters hanging out in shopping centres)
When your parents told you Father Christmas doesn't exist, that it's just a silly story to protect your innocence. Well, Christians, I'm doing the same thing for you now.
Sorry. You cried when mummy told you Father Christmas wasn't real, and it'll hurt just as bad: God just isn't real.
Like Sam Harris says, in any other case, if someone asserts something you will ask for evidence. If I tell you I can fly, it's pretty reasonable for you to expect me send a couple of minutes suspended in mid-air to prove it.
But what's that you say? On the surface it doesn't matter if I can fly or not. Even if you believe me without evidence it's not doing you any harm to believe that I can fly.
So, how about I say: I can fly. Now worship me because of it.
Will you require evidence then?
I can fly. Now donate money to me.
Will you require evidence then?
I can fly. Now go to war and die because of it.
Will you require evidence then?
An argument I hear regularly from Christians is:
How did it all start then? If there is no God to create the universe, no divine architect, how did the universe go from not being, to being.
Well, let's start by saying I'm not a scientist. There are many theories. But in all probability, the answer right now is: we don't know.
That doesn't mean we won't ever know.
I'm willing to bet that there are a lot of people who, for example, would know if you asked them:
How does an electric guitar's sound come out of an amplifier. (Many people do know, but I bet there are a lot of people who don't).
Just because they don't know doesn't mean there isn't a scientific explanation. The fact that you don't know about amplifiers doesn't mean you can't ever know. And it's the same with science.
We haven't always known everything we know now. We'll probably never know everything. But that doesn't mean we should stop trying and just say: God did it.
God didn't do it. There is no God.
Monday 7 November 2011
It's easier to be...
NOTE: on reading this back I realise that it is, in most places, highly vulgar. I tend to write this blog without any planning. I just write and write and write in a stream of conciousness. I also say a lot of things I say for comic effect, rather than because I actually believe them. This blog is meant in jest. It is not an example of what I would like to leave behind for future generations to think of me.
It's easier to be gay.
I'm sure there are literally numerous examples, so I'm just going to pick one at random to prove that it is easier to be gay than straight.
Orgies.
Now, I've never been to an orgy. I don't exactly know how they come about. Does someone cheekily suggest it with a Facebook event invitation, and then gradually everyone comes to a collective decision that an orgy is a good idea? From my experience, the emotions of having sex with just one person at a time is complex enough. I can't imagine what it would be like to simultaneously be sexually involved with a group of people.
But my innocence and naivety aside, let's look at the concept.
I'm going to keep it fairly simple.
A 5 person orgy.
Now, if you are straight there is an obvious problem with a 5 person orgy: 2 doesn't divide by 5. There will clearly be a gender imbalance.
Common male sexual fantasy will suggest that a ratio of 1/4 is the optimum break down. Now, maths and sexual stimulation rarely mix nicely together, so already we're beginning to see a problem with straight orgies.
Personally I just can't see it working. I mean it's a tough enough stretch of the imagination for me to envisage convincing one willing female to engage with me in guilt-free violent pseudo romance with the touching of the genitals and so forth.
But imagine, just imagine, the complexities of an orgy that has a ratio majority of straight males. The mind boggles, and takes me to places that I simply do not have the courage to commit to the written word.
It would be dreadful.
Gay people, however, have no such problem. You see, at a gay orgy (lets just take male, for the sake of it) all the men are attracted to men. They are all equally able to fornicate happily with each other.
That is why it's easier to be gay.
Orgies.
It's easier to be gay.
I'm sure there are literally numerous examples, so I'm just going to pick one at random to prove that it is easier to be gay than straight.
Orgies.
Now, I've never been to an orgy. I don't exactly know how they come about. Does someone cheekily suggest it with a Facebook event invitation, and then gradually everyone comes to a collective decision that an orgy is a good idea? From my experience, the emotions of having sex with just one person at a time is complex enough. I can't imagine what it would be like to simultaneously be sexually involved with a group of people.
But my innocence and naivety aside, let's look at the concept.
I'm going to keep it fairly simple.
A 5 person orgy.
Now, if you are straight there is an obvious problem with a 5 person orgy: 2 doesn't divide by 5. There will clearly be a gender imbalance.
Common male sexual fantasy will suggest that a ratio of 1/4 is the optimum break down. Now, maths and sexual stimulation rarely mix nicely together, so already we're beginning to see a problem with straight orgies.
Personally I just can't see it working. I mean it's a tough enough stretch of the imagination for me to envisage convincing one willing female to engage with me in guilt-free violent pseudo romance with the touching of the genitals and so forth.
But imagine, just imagine, the complexities of an orgy that has a ratio majority of straight males. The mind boggles, and takes me to places that I simply do not have the courage to commit to the written word.
It would be dreadful.
Gay people, however, have no such problem. You see, at a gay orgy (lets just take male, for the sake of it) all the men are attracted to men. They are all equally able to fornicate happily with each other.
That is why it's easier to be gay.
Orgies.
Thursday 3 November 2011
Friends.
OK, so, let's say you've popped out for a drink with your good old pal, Adolf Hitler. Adolf's a good laugh, even if he is a bit mouthy sometimes. But that's OK, it's just one of his personality quirks. He's a bit of a 'character'.
But this time, you're out and Adolf makes a couple of comments about Jews that you don't much care for. But you laugh it off.
"Here we go *tsk* Adolf's off on one again".
And the night carries on, and you all have a good laugh. Adolf does his party trick with two pint glasses and a thong.
Then a few weeks later, you and Adolf have gone out for a nice meal. Thai. His choice. You're discussing popular music, when Adolf brings up that he thinks Jews are the source of all the world's problems and that at the next election he's going to vote for the antisemitic party. He says it with a cheeky little grin on his face, because he knows you're not so partial to racial hatred, but you can tell he's deadly serious.
Some months pass and you're on a night out. You haven't seen Adolf for a while, but he appears at the same club you're at. He's bought a load of his rugby mates; a boisterous lot. You're boogieing through the night having a laugh, when a drunken Adolf puts his arm over your shoulder.
"I've had it with the Jews," he slurs "and none of the political parties are doing fuck all about it. I'm gonna start my own party".
Later that night you witness Hitler's rugby mates beating up a Jewish guy outside. Adolf doesn't get involved, but you can tell he's loving it.
"I don't think he really hates the Jews," you tell your other friends who think Adolf is a bit of a prick "that's just the way his parents are".
So a few days later you get a Facebook invite to the first meeting of Adolf's new political party.
"Look at Adolf!" you think "starting up his own political party, I never thought I'd see the day".
You'd better go along, you think, as long as nothings on TV. It'll just be for a bit of morale support for him. It'd be horrible if no-one turns up.
You arrive and you can't believe it. The place is heaving. Adolf is standing at the front, preaching loud and proud. And preaching to the converted. Everyone here hates the Jews. And Adolf's good with words too, he's turning their hatred into belief. You feel a bit intimidated and out of place, so you sneak out the back.
You and Adolf don't see each other for a good six months. You've both got things going on, and the opportunity never really comes up. But then you bump into each other in Tesco.
"How are things going?" you ask.
"Oh great mate," says Adolf "I'm the leader of the country now, and we're killing the Jews by the thousands, gassing them to death in chambers"
"Wow, glad things have turned out so good for you. Hey, we should try out that new French place that has just opened up"
"Yeah sounds good, see you soon"
"See you later Adolf".
At what point do your friends beliefs and opinions stop them from being your friend? That's the point my Adolf Hitler story is trying to make.
But this time, you're out and Adolf makes a couple of comments about Jews that you don't much care for. But you laugh it off.
"Here we go *tsk* Adolf's off on one again".
And the night carries on, and you all have a good laugh. Adolf does his party trick with two pint glasses and a thong.
Then a few weeks later, you and Adolf have gone out for a nice meal. Thai. His choice. You're discussing popular music, when Adolf brings up that he thinks Jews are the source of all the world's problems and that at the next election he's going to vote for the antisemitic party. He says it with a cheeky little grin on his face, because he knows you're not so partial to racial hatred, but you can tell he's deadly serious.
Some months pass and you're on a night out. You haven't seen Adolf for a while, but he appears at the same club you're at. He's bought a load of his rugby mates; a boisterous lot. You're boogieing through the night having a laugh, when a drunken Adolf puts his arm over your shoulder.
"I've had it with the Jews," he slurs "and none of the political parties are doing fuck all about it. I'm gonna start my own party".
Later that night you witness Hitler's rugby mates beating up a Jewish guy outside. Adolf doesn't get involved, but you can tell he's loving it.
"I don't think he really hates the Jews," you tell your other friends who think Adolf is a bit of a prick "that's just the way his parents are".
So a few days later you get a Facebook invite to the first meeting of Adolf's new political party.
"Look at Adolf!" you think "starting up his own political party, I never thought I'd see the day".
You'd better go along, you think, as long as nothings on TV. It'll just be for a bit of morale support for him. It'd be horrible if no-one turns up.
You arrive and you can't believe it. The place is heaving. Adolf is standing at the front, preaching loud and proud. And preaching to the converted. Everyone here hates the Jews. And Adolf's good with words too, he's turning their hatred into belief. You feel a bit intimidated and out of place, so you sneak out the back.
You and Adolf don't see each other for a good six months. You've both got things going on, and the opportunity never really comes up. But then you bump into each other in Tesco.
"How are things going?" you ask.
"Oh great mate," says Adolf "I'm the leader of the country now, and we're killing the Jews by the thousands, gassing them to death in chambers"
"Wow, glad things have turned out so good for you. Hey, we should try out that new French place that has just opened up"
"Yeah sounds good, see you soon"
"See you later Adolf".
At what point do your friends beliefs and opinions stop them from being your friend? That's the point my Adolf Hitler story is trying to make.
Tuesday 1 November 2011
Knowing stuff sucks, man.
I am not a political heavyweight, no matter how loud I talk. At best I'm a political light-bantamweight feathering weak left-jabs at Tory sluggers who could have me down for the count with one quote from the Institute for Fiscal Studies.
I've got my opinions and I'm not afraid to share them with you (usually quite obnoxiously, as if there is no possible alternative). But I'm wholly unprepared for a proper political argument. To be blunt, I just haven't done my homework. I read the Guardian, and scoff any time I come into contact with right-wing paper.
See, I like evidence. It's part of the reason I'm not religious. I've got plenty of information about basketball, though, so if you wanna have an argument on basketball I'm pretty confident I can beat you. But politically I just don't have the base of knowledge. It's not that I can't site my sources, it's that I don't have sources to site, most of the time.
When I was younger, I didn't know anything. But I didn't know that I didn't know anything, so it was easy to puff out my chest and lambaste whomsoever I felt was due a lambasting. These days I'm fully aware of my own ignorance, and I know how easy it would be to defeat my argument. So I often have to contain my opinions, even though they are more relevant and informed than I have ever been before.
The problem, as far as I can see, is knowing stuff.
Someone clever once said:
"The smarter you become, the sadder you become"
I think it was me.
But it's true. And it's because when you're young the world is presented to you very simply and neatly. Mummy tells you that being good is good, and you'll be rewarded, and being bad is bad and you'll be punished. The heroes always win in books and TV and films, and the evil villains not only lose, but they get their comeuppance too.
When you grow up. Everyone's a fucking villain. And they're all getting away with it.
The more you learn, you realise what a terrible place the world is, and how the sugarcoated existence you once knew is gone, and can never come back
I've got my opinions and I'm not afraid to share them with you (usually quite obnoxiously, as if there is no possible alternative). But I'm wholly unprepared for a proper political argument. To be blunt, I just haven't done my homework. I read the Guardian, and scoff any time I come into contact with right-wing paper.
See, I like evidence. It's part of the reason I'm not religious. I've got plenty of information about basketball, though, so if you wanna have an argument on basketball I'm pretty confident I can beat you. But politically I just don't have the base of knowledge. It's not that I can't site my sources, it's that I don't have sources to site, most of the time.
When I was younger, I didn't know anything. But I didn't know that I didn't know anything, so it was easy to puff out my chest and lambaste whomsoever I felt was due a lambasting. These days I'm fully aware of my own ignorance, and I know how easy it would be to defeat my argument. So I often have to contain my opinions, even though they are more relevant and informed than I have ever been before.
The problem, as far as I can see, is knowing stuff.
Someone clever once said:
"The smarter you become, the sadder you become"
I think it was me.
But it's true. And it's because when you're young the world is presented to you very simply and neatly. Mummy tells you that being good is good, and you'll be rewarded, and being bad is bad and you'll be punished. The heroes always win in books and TV and films, and the evil villains not only lose, but they get their comeuppance too.
When you grow up. Everyone's a fucking villain. And they're all getting away with it.
The more you learn, you realise what a terrible place the world is, and how the sugarcoated existence you once knew is gone, and can never come back
Sunday 30 October 2011
Where's my cocaine?
OK, so I've come to the conclusion that alcohol is the world's worst evil.
And unlike the usual "I'm NEVER DRINKING AGAIN!!!" moment, I've come to this decision not after a heavy night of drinking and with a raging hangover. I've come to this decision sober. Sober as hell.
Alcohol ruins us. It makes us sad and depressed. It makes us angry and aggressive. It makes us arrogant and loud-mouthed. It makes us childish. It makes it uncomfortable for non-drunks to be around us. It makes us lose money. It makes us stupid. It makes us forgiving in the wrong situations. It makes good guys wankers, and it makes sweet girls whores. We make the excuse that it gives us confidence, but really it just lowers our standards. It makes us abandon our friends. It makes us say things we don't mean.
And for what?
What are the benefits?
I mean, things are good after a couple of drinks I'll grant you. The high isn't even that good, and the second you push it too far you're virtually guaranteeing that you'll do something to make an idiot out of yourself.
So I've decided I'm giving up drinking.
And I'm going to start doing cocaine.
That's right full on cocaine.
No feeder drugs. No pussyfooting around. I'm going to snort that white powder till it rots my nasal cartalidge. I won't take it too far, I'll be sensible.
Of course, I am missing out one major problem. And it's a problem that has vexed me ever since my decision to give up alcohol a few minutes ago.
What the fuck do you drink?
I don't mean on a night out (on a night out I'll certainly enjoy the irony in going to the bar and ordering a Coke) I mean what do you drink when you get it and just want to have a sit down and relax during the evening.
Wine and beer are quite literally the ONLY savory cold drinks outside of water and milk. (Hot drinks should always be sweet, I think).
I'm not asking for much. A savory drink. I don't like sweet. I like savory.
Coke etc.? Fruit juice? Squash? Shloer?
You could have non-alcoholic beer, but I think that's missing the point really.
Feel free to offer suggestions, I would LOVE to be proved wrong.
Maybe instead of Coke, I'll just dissolve a teaspoon of cocaine in my water and drink that. It's gotta be good.
And unlike the usual "I'm NEVER DRINKING AGAIN!!!" moment, I've come to this decision not after a heavy night of drinking and with a raging hangover. I've come to this decision sober. Sober as hell.
Alcohol ruins us. It makes us sad and depressed. It makes us angry and aggressive. It makes us arrogant and loud-mouthed. It makes us childish. It makes it uncomfortable for non-drunks to be around us. It makes us lose money. It makes us stupid. It makes us forgiving in the wrong situations. It makes good guys wankers, and it makes sweet girls whores. We make the excuse that it gives us confidence, but really it just lowers our standards. It makes us abandon our friends. It makes us say things we don't mean.
And for what?
What are the benefits?
I mean, things are good after a couple of drinks I'll grant you. The high isn't even that good, and the second you push it too far you're virtually guaranteeing that you'll do something to make an idiot out of yourself.
So I've decided I'm giving up drinking.
And I'm going to start doing cocaine.
That's right full on cocaine.
No feeder drugs. No pussyfooting around. I'm going to snort that white powder till it rots my nasal cartalidge. I won't take it too far, I'll be sensible.
Of course, I am missing out one major problem. And it's a problem that has vexed me ever since my decision to give up alcohol a few minutes ago.
What the fuck do you drink?
I don't mean on a night out (on a night out I'll certainly enjoy the irony in going to the bar and ordering a Coke) I mean what do you drink when you get it and just want to have a sit down and relax during the evening.
Wine and beer are quite literally the ONLY savory cold drinks outside of water and milk. (Hot drinks should always be sweet, I think).
I'm not asking for much. A savory drink. I don't like sweet. I like savory.
Coke etc.? Fruit juice? Squash? Shloer?
You could have non-alcoholic beer, but I think that's missing the point really.
Feel free to offer suggestions, I would LOVE to be proved wrong.
Maybe instead of Coke, I'll just dissolve a teaspoon of cocaine in my water and drink that. It's gotta be good.
Wednesday 5 October 2011
FTSE.
There's a lot of things they never teach you at school. Or ever.
The FTSE for example.
You hear it every day on the news.
'The FTSE is down', 'The FTSE is up', but what the fuck is it? And what the fuck is the Dow Jones for that matter? AND why do they have such obscure and completely different names?
And also, why is it the FTSE. But it's pronounced "footsie". It's clearly a fucking acronym. It's clearly the "eff-tee-ess-ee".
The only "footsie" I'd ever heard happens when you're sitting at a table and accidentally briefly clash feet with an elderley relative.
"Ooooooooooooooooooh are you playing footsie with me?"
No.
No I wasn't. It's a table and there is limited space beneath it. I wasn't try to solicit mild sexual stimulation with a member of my own family. The suggestion repulses me.
So, the constant reference to it on the BBC and (I presume) other news programmes, I have no basis for understanding the concept.
The FTSE for example.
You hear it every day on the news.
'The FTSE is down', 'The FTSE is up', but what the fuck is it? And what the fuck is the Dow Jones for that matter? AND why do they have such obscure and completely different names?
And also, why is it the FTSE. But it's pronounced "footsie". It's clearly a fucking acronym. It's clearly the "eff-tee-ess-ee".
The only "footsie" I'd ever heard happens when you're sitting at a table and accidentally briefly clash feet with an elderley relative.
"Ooooooooooooooooooh are you playing footsie with me?"
No.
No I wasn't. It's a table and there is limited space beneath it. I wasn't try to solicit mild sexual stimulation with a member of my own family. The suggestion repulses me.
So, the constant reference to it on the BBC and (I presume) other news programmes, I have no basis for understanding the concept.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
Writing.
I used to think there was nothing more painful than reading back some "comedy" writing you did when you were about 11, thinking you were funny.
But I have found something more painful. Disturbingly painful.
It's when you read something you wrote when you were 11, and it's funnier than anything you write now:
"I'm gonna give Michael a piece of my mind!"
"Be careful, you don't have much to spare"
That is a brilliant line. If I came up with that now I'd take the rest of the day off.
But I have found something more painful. Disturbingly painful.
It's when you read something you wrote when you were 11, and it's funnier than anything you write now:
"I'm gonna give Michael a piece of my mind!"
"Be careful, you don't have much to spare"
That is a brilliant line. If I came up with that now I'd take the rest of the day off.
Bored?
I hate the word bored.
Are you bored?
Well go fucking do something then, there is a world of infinite wonder and fascination out there, I honestly don't know how you find the time to be bored. Read a book. There's loads of them. You might learn something.
Learn a language. Listen to an album by a band you'd never heard of before. Bake a cake. Learn about the Zimbabwean political system. Write a poem. Sing in the club style. Cure cancer.
But for God's sake don't be bored.
Being "bored" is such a boring emotional state, not just for you for everyone you bore by telling them you're bored. Saying "I'm bored" infects other people, and makes them think they're bored. And it's self defeating.
The bored are the boring.
Are you bored?
Well go fucking do something then, there is a world of infinite wonder and fascination out there, I honestly don't know how you find the time to be bored. Read a book. There's loads of them. You might learn something.
Learn a language. Listen to an album by a band you'd never heard of before. Bake a cake. Learn about the Zimbabwean political system. Write a poem. Sing in the club style. Cure cancer.
But for God's sake don't be bored.
Being "bored" is such a boring emotional state, not just for you for everyone you bore by telling them you're bored. Saying "I'm bored" infects other people, and makes them think they're bored. And it's self defeating.
The bored are the boring.
Monday 3 October 2011
Doctor Who, and what I think
Doctor Who's season has just finished. The whole of the last series has been, for me, a highlight in television this year, and a massive improvement on the seasons written by Russell T Davies. I thought that the villains, The Silence were well designed and menacing, and the use of foreshadowing was brilliant.
But it seems there is some debate among Who "fans" as to whether this is correct. And please note I speech-mark fans quite intentionally. Complaints have arisen over the complexity of the narrative, and the fact that the story-arch continued each week, making it difficult for "casual viewers" to hop in and hop out at their leisure.
Doctor Who should be something for everyone to enjoy, they say; a children's show that parents can sit down and watch. But that is where I think they are wrong. See, maybe in its original incarnation Doctor Who was a children's show that adults could derive some pleasure out of, but now those children have grown up and still love Doctor Who, and there is a whole generation of young adults who like Who too. These days Doctor Who is an adult show which children can derive some interest in.
And as for the concept of hopping in and hopping out of the series on a whim:
they might say: "I like to be able to sit down and just enjoy a one off episode for what it is. I don't want the complexity of a story arch which I don't understand".
But this is just lunacy.
You don't pick up a book and read the 4th, 7th and 9th chapter, and then expect the final chapter to make sense. Why would you expect it from Doctor Who? And more to the point why did you just read the 4th, 6th and 9th chapters in the first fucking place. It's not actually that hard to sit down and watch the fucking TV.
Perhaps you'd prefer a return to the past? Perhaps you'd like to be able to simply sit down on the occasional Saturday night and enjoy 45 minutes of excellent, self-contained entertainment. Well, you cant. It would be impossible for even an exceptionally talented writer to pull off, unless you were also looking for Teletubby-like simplicity in the plots and character development. In fact you probably are looking for that level of simplicity, so undoubtedly our argument can only end here.
But it seems there is some debate among Who "fans" as to whether this is correct. And please note I speech-mark fans quite intentionally. Complaints have arisen over the complexity of the narrative, and the fact that the story-arch continued each week, making it difficult for "casual viewers" to hop in and hop out at their leisure.
Doctor Who should be something for everyone to enjoy, they say; a children's show that parents can sit down and watch. But that is where I think they are wrong. See, maybe in its original incarnation Doctor Who was a children's show that adults could derive some pleasure out of, but now those children have grown up and still love Doctor Who, and there is a whole generation of young adults who like Who too. These days Doctor Who is an adult show which children can derive some interest in.
And as for the concept of hopping in and hopping out of the series on a whim:
they might say: "I like to be able to sit down and just enjoy a one off episode for what it is. I don't want the complexity of a story arch which I don't understand".
But this is just lunacy.
You don't pick up a book and read the 4th, 7th and 9th chapter, and then expect the final chapter to make sense. Why would you expect it from Doctor Who? And more to the point why did you just read the 4th, 6th and 9th chapters in the first fucking place. It's not actually that hard to sit down and watch the fucking TV.
Perhaps you'd prefer a return to the past? Perhaps you'd like to be able to simply sit down on the occasional Saturday night and enjoy 45 minutes of excellent, self-contained entertainment. Well, you cant. It would be impossible for even an exceptionally talented writer to pull off, unless you were also looking for Teletubby-like simplicity in the plots and character development. In fact you probably are looking for that level of simplicity, so undoubtedly our argument can only end here.
Friday 30 September 2011
Why I don't have a girlfriend
OK, so I haven't had a girlfriend for three years.
There is primarily one very good reason for that, which, confusingly, I'm not going to discuss. Instead I'm going to skirt around the edges, clawing at a number of equally valid, but less consequentially important reasons. Anyone who really knows me will already know anyway. And to be honest, it would be boring describing it, for you. And me. And probably emotionally destructive for me. And you.
I mean, this whole post will be dull anyway, because it's just going to be about me, and the dull things I think about my dull life. There will be no cutting insight into the human consciousness, no probing truisms and no material you will ever be able to plunder and use in a Michael McIntyre-esque observational comedy routine.
Good luck.
OK, so we start again: I haven't had a girlfriend for three years. My last relationship, and only ever proper relationship, was fairly long term, but was destined, we both agree, to failure. In fact people occasionally site this ex-girlfriend as a reason why I might not have moved on.
I can categorically state now that I moved on immediately as the relationship ended. I just got stuck elsewhere.
I think fundamentally I don't really need a relationship. I'm OK on my own. I don't really get lonely. I occupy my own time pretty well. And I have good friends. So I've never really pushed myself really hard to try to get a girlfriend. There have been opportunities, certainly, some which I wish had gone somewhere, others which I am glad I never followed through. But for the moment I'm doing alright alone.
But surely there is more to it than just "I can get by without a girlfriend". The reasons run deeper.
First of all, I'm not really too well versed on the mechanics of acquiring a girlfriend (you would probably be able to work that out by simply reading that sentence). Your options appear to be limited fairly strictly:
1) Go out to a club. Pull a girl. Exchange phone numbers. Stay in contact through a series of flirty and then eventually explicit text messages. Have sex. Play mini-golf. Have a meal out somewhere. Job done. Easy.
Of course, it isn't easy. Let's just say I'm pretty much lethally allergic to embarrassment, and "going into a club and pulling a girl" is tantamount to an embarrassment minefield, complete with rejection barb wire and volleys of humilation machine gun fire raining down upon you.
Even on a good day, a confident day, I would struggle to approach a stranger and engage them in a pleasant way. Let alone to the point at which I would supplicate extreme proximity to their person, and introduce the concept of sloppily pressing my mouth against their erogenous zones.
But it's not only the potential embarrassment of failure; it's also the suffocatingly low chances of success. When I walk into a club, I am consistently made aware, that in the terms of the room I am unlikely to be considered attractive. I'm not trying to put a downer on myself, but it just stands to reason that clubs generally attract the youthful and sociable, and both traits are talismans (talismen?) for attractiveness.
So realistically I'm unlikely to be in the top 50% of attractive men at any given club. Probably lower still. I don't blame them. If I was a woman I wouldn't find me attractive either. There are always going to be better options, physically at least.
Now, that doesn't need to matter, because attractiveness isn't everything, and I have occasional confidence in my own personality to win people over. Unfortunately clubs don't really facilitate imposing your personality on someone. You effectively have one method at your disposal to show the people around you what kind of guy you are: dancing. You could try shouting into people's ears, but it isn't much good. I tend to play dancing for laughs, with elaborate and eccentrics moves not befitting my personal appearance and level of skill. It has been found amusing occasionally (I worry sometimes that people only find it funny to save me the embarrassment, of me dancing stupidly and people not finding it funny). But dancing is not a high point for me. To get with someone you need to have an air of mystery, so I guess I'm going the wrong way about it.
No. Clubs just don't work for me.
2) So, clubs are a no-no. Girlfriend option number 2: a friend of a friend. I've lost count of the number of times that relationships I have asked the origins of, have arisen from mutual friends.
See with mutual friends you get the best of both worlds. You get the mystery of someone you don't know, without the fear that they are an utter wanker, seeking out only the spoils of your soft genitals.
Unfortunately the problem now is that my friendship group is small and close-knit. The larger friendship group I previously owned has been largely fragmented, predominantly due to relationships and the fact that we spent our latter teen years getting with each other every week.
Perhaps there is potential around. But it hasn't happened yet.
3) As an offshoot to option 2. Perhaps I should mention friends.
Even if we disregard the complexities of getting with friends, my friends already have the advantage of knowing what a miserable twat I am. Beneath a mildly affable and friendly surface, my identity is a junkyard of grammar pedantry, soul-crushingly ruthless self hatred and misplaced relevance to lyrics by Brand New. They know the kind of person I am.
So as beautiful and wonderful as all my friends are, they are all not options.
4) So, what about work then? So what if I told you I work in a department, that, from Monday, will be exclusively female + me. How does a charming [sic], handsome [sic] man such as myself not possibly acquire a girlfriend?
Well, fortunately from them, they are all either in relationships or contravene point number 3.
5) Hobbies, then. Surely I have some hobbies which cold facilitate female interaction, and then consequently vigorous sexual dynamism.
I play basketball, predominantly with men, it must be said, but women do come along occasionally. I don't really think that sport is the way to romance, however, but I've been wrong before.
I like reading, which traditionally is enjoyed best as a lone activity.
I play in a band, which suggests the notion of groupies. But in reality sustains only mild enthusiasm from close friends and family members.
So there we have it. I have exhausted all the options for getting a girlfriend and have failed. There is no longer the need to ask me why I don't have one.
There is primarily one very good reason for that, which, confusingly, I'm not going to discuss. Instead I'm going to skirt around the edges, clawing at a number of equally valid, but less consequentially important reasons. Anyone who really knows me will already know anyway. And to be honest, it would be boring describing it, for you. And me. And probably emotionally destructive for me. And you.
I mean, this whole post will be dull anyway, because it's just going to be about me, and the dull things I think about my dull life. There will be no cutting insight into the human consciousness, no probing truisms and no material you will ever be able to plunder and use in a Michael McIntyre-esque observational comedy routine.
Good luck.
OK, so we start again: I haven't had a girlfriend for three years. My last relationship, and only ever proper relationship, was fairly long term, but was destined, we both agree, to failure. In fact people occasionally site this ex-girlfriend as a reason why I might not have moved on.
I can categorically state now that I moved on immediately as the relationship ended. I just got stuck elsewhere.
I think fundamentally I don't really need a relationship. I'm OK on my own. I don't really get lonely. I occupy my own time pretty well. And I have good friends. So I've never really pushed myself really hard to try to get a girlfriend. There have been opportunities, certainly, some which I wish had gone somewhere, others which I am glad I never followed through. But for the moment I'm doing alright alone.
But surely there is more to it than just "I can get by without a girlfriend". The reasons run deeper.
First of all, I'm not really too well versed on the mechanics of acquiring a girlfriend (you would probably be able to work that out by simply reading that sentence). Your options appear to be limited fairly strictly:
1) Go out to a club. Pull a girl. Exchange phone numbers. Stay in contact through a series of flirty and then eventually explicit text messages. Have sex. Play mini-golf. Have a meal out somewhere. Job done. Easy.
Of course, it isn't easy. Let's just say I'm pretty much lethally allergic to embarrassment, and "going into a club and pulling a girl" is tantamount to an embarrassment minefield, complete with rejection barb wire and volleys of humilation machine gun fire raining down upon you.
Even on a good day, a confident day, I would struggle to approach a stranger and engage them in a pleasant way. Let alone to the point at which I would supplicate extreme proximity to their person, and introduce the concept of sloppily pressing my mouth against their erogenous zones.
But it's not only the potential embarrassment of failure; it's also the suffocatingly low chances of success. When I walk into a club, I am consistently made aware, that in the terms of the room I am unlikely to be considered attractive. I'm not trying to put a downer on myself, but it just stands to reason that clubs generally attract the youthful and sociable, and both traits are talismans (talismen?) for attractiveness.
So realistically I'm unlikely to be in the top 50% of attractive men at any given club. Probably lower still. I don't blame them. If I was a woman I wouldn't find me attractive either. There are always going to be better options, physically at least.
Now, that doesn't need to matter, because attractiveness isn't everything, and I have occasional confidence in my own personality to win people over. Unfortunately clubs don't really facilitate imposing your personality on someone. You effectively have one method at your disposal to show the people around you what kind of guy you are: dancing. You could try shouting into people's ears, but it isn't much good. I tend to play dancing for laughs, with elaborate and eccentrics moves not befitting my personal appearance and level of skill. It has been found amusing occasionally (I worry sometimes that people only find it funny to save me the embarrassment, of me dancing stupidly and people not finding it funny). But dancing is not a high point for me. To get with someone you need to have an air of mystery, so I guess I'm going the wrong way about it.
No. Clubs just don't work for me.
2) So, clubs are a no-no. Girlfriend option number 2: a friend of a friend. I've lost count of the number of times that relationships I have asked the origins of, have arisen from mutual friends.
See with mutual friends you get the best of both worlds. You get the mystery of someone you don't know, without the fear that they are an utter wanker, seeking out only the spoils of your soft genitals.
Unfortunately the problem now is that my friendship group is small and close-knit. The larger friendship group I previously owned has been largely fragmented, predominantly due to relationships and the fact that we spent our latter teen years getting with each other every week.
Perhaps there is potential around. But it hasn't happened yet.
3) As an offshoot to option 2. Perhaps I should mention friends.
Even if we disregard the complexities of getting with friends, my friends already have the advantage of knowing what a miserable twat I am. Beneath a mildly affable and friendly surface, my identity is a junkyard of grammar pedantry, soul-crushingly ruthless self hatred and misplaced relevance to lyrics by Brand New. They know the kind of person I am.
So as beautiful and wonderful as all my friends are, they are all not options.
4) So, what about work then? So what if I told you I work in a department, that, from Monday, will be exclusively female + me. How does a charming [sic], handsome [sic] man such as myself not possibly acquire a girlfriend?
Well, fortunately from them, they are all either in relationships or contravene point number 3.
5) Hobbies, then. Surely I have some hobbies which cold facilitate female interaction, and then consequently vigorous sexual dynamism.
I play basketball, predominantly with men, it must be said, but women do come along occasionally. I don't really think that sport is the way to romance, however, but I've been wrong before.
I like reading, which traditionally is enjoyed best as a lone activity.
I play in a band, which suggests the notion of groupies. But in reality sustains only mild enthusiasm from close friends and family members.
So there we have it. I have exhausted all the options for getting a girlfriend and have failed. There is no longer the need to ask me why I don't have one.
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Reading 2011
OK. New blog.
No silly promises about more regular posts. No self-indulgent facetiousness. No epiphonomenal embroglios. Just things I think about.
I just got back from Reading Festival.
At the time I didn't particularly enjoy standing around for 12 hours a day with my feet hurting and my lower intestine engorging. I didn't particularly enjoy sleeping on an airbed with no pillow. I didn't particularly enjoy the over-priced Tuborg beer. And I certainly didn't enjoy the state of those fucking festival toilets.
But on the whole, the weekend was a marvelous success.
I was highly impressed by Elbow and Deftones, and to a lesser extent The National and Panic at the Disco.
And of course there were a number of bands who were brilliant, but I was expecting them to be brilliant anyway (Jimmy Eat World, Frank Turner, Muse, Taking Back Sunday, 30 Seconds to Mars, Rival Schools).
Muse completely stole the show. I feel sorry for the Leeds Festival people, who got Muse on the Friday, and then only had Pulp/The Stokes to look forward to on the Sunday. We got Muse as the last band of the festival, and it was a seriously amazing headline performance. True headliners. Song after classic song performed exceptionally, to an elaborate and mesmerising backdrop.
We camped with some nice people. We had some campfires. We made some modern art.
But I doubt I'll go back to Reading. I went for the lineup, and only an improved one would make me go again.
No silly promises about more regular posts. No self-indulgent facetiousness. No epiphonomenal embroglios. Just things I think about.
I just got back from Reading Festival.
At the time I didn't particularly enjoy standing around for 12 hours a day with my feet hurting and my lower intestine engorging. I didn't particularly enjoy sleeping on an airbed with no pillow. I didn't particularly enjoy the over-priced Tuborg beer. And I certainly didn't enjoy the state of those fucking festival toilets.
But on the whole, the weekend was a marvelous success.
I was highly impressed by Elbow and Deftones, and to a lesser extent The National and Panic at the Disco.
And of course there were a number of bands who were brilliant, but I was expecting them to be brilliant anyway (Jimmy Eat World, Frank Turner, Muse, Taking Back Sunday, 30 Seconds to Mars, Rival Schools).
Muse completely stole the show. I feel sorry for the Leeds Festival people, who got Muse on the Friday, and then only had Pulp/The Stokes to look forward to on the Sunday. We got Muse as the last band of the festival, and it was a seriously amazing headline performance. True headliners. Song after classic song performed exceptionally, to an elaborate and mesmerising backdrop.
We camped with some nice people. We had some campfires. We made some modern art.
But I doubt I'll go back to Reading. I went for the lineup, and only an improved one would make me go again.
Sunday 29 May 2011
End Of: The basic story of Tim Loughton MP
So, I haven't blogged for ages. I know. Been busy, haven't I?
But anyway, I'm back now so you can stop crying.
Following Plashing Vole's lead, I have decided to keep a close eye on my Tory MP Tim Loughton to see what kind of a guy he is. And to see if an MP who has been voted in with an increasing majority since 1997 is actually doing a good job for us.
So, let's start off with something very basic. Here's TheyWorkForYou.com's analysis of Tim Lougthon's voting record. Now, bear in mind that it is taken out of context, and obviously you shouldn't judge people on little setences that don't tell the whole story. But at the very least it gives us a basic idea of what Tory Tim is really about. The little numbers alongside the embolded statements reprents a key to which, if you look below, you will find a number my observations.
Voted very strongly against allowing ministers to intervene in inquests
Voted very strongly for greater autonomy for schools.
Voted strongly against more EU integration. (4)
Voted strongly against introducing foundation hospitals.
Voted moderately against a smoking ban.
Voted very strongly against removing hereditary peers from the House of Lords.
Voted a mixture of for and against a wholly elected House of Lords.
Voted moderately against Labour's anti-terrorism laws.
Voted moderately for a stricter asylum system. (4)
Voted very strongly for the Iraq war. (1) (2)
Voted strongly for an investigation into the Iraq war. (2)
Voted moderately for laws to stop climate change.
Has never voted on a transparent Parliament.
Voted moderately against the hunting ban.
Voted very strongly for replacing Trident. (1)
Voted moderately against equal gay rights. (3)
Voted strongly against introducing ID cards.
1) So, he's a war monger.
2) He voted VERY STRONGLY for the Iraq War. And then when public opinion changed, suddenly he was all for an investigation into Labour.
3) He voted AGAINST equal gay rights. AGAINST! (I am aware that there are probably still a majority of people in the UK from whom voting against equal gay rights seems the sensible and natural thing to do. Sad.)
4) Doesn't like those bloody immigrants. You know, coming over here, working hard, propping up our national health service, etc.
But anyway, I'm back now so you can stop crying.
Following Plashing Vole's lead, I have decided to keep a close eye on my Tory MP Tim Loughton to see what kind of a guy he is. And to see if an MP who has been voted in with an increasing majority since 1997 is actually doing a good job for us.
So, let's start off with something very basic. Here's TheyWorkForYou.com's analysis of Tim Lougthon's voting record. Now, bear in mind that it is taken out of context, and obviously you shouldn't judge people on little setences that don't tell the whole story. But at the very least it gives us a basic idea of what Tory Tim is really about. The little numbers alongside the embolded statements reprents a key to which, if you look below, you will find a number my observations.
1) So, he's a war monger.
2) He voted VERY STRONGLY for the Iraq War. And then when public opinion changed, suddenly he was all for an investigation into Labour.
3) He voted AGAINST equal gay rights. AGAINST! (I am aware that there are probably still a majority of people in the UK from whom voting against equal gay rights seems the sensible and natural thing to do. Sad.)
4) Doesn't like those bloody immigrants. You know, coming over here, working hard, propping up our national health service, etc.
Thursday 7 April 2011
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: F
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me
F
fuckin'
Not the activity. That's fine.
And not even really the word, because I don't have a problem with the existance of swear words. In fact I think they are really important. It's important to have words which display emphasis at a level beyond which is socially acceptable.
For real anger.
For real passion.
For really getting your penis caught in the fly of your jeans.
So it annoys me when "fuckin'" is used as an adjective to substitute for everything and sometimes even nothing.
"I was at the fuckin' football, wasn't I" (this is actually probably more grammatically correct than the sentence would have been said in any instance).
There's no point. It's just swearing for the point of swearing. So what annoys me is excessive and pointless swearing.
I can already imagine a future where I am a grandfather (or even just father) and the use of the word "cunt" is rife, without anyone under 25 batting an eyelid, and I am seen as stuck in the past for thinking you shouldn't casually refer to your best friend as a "cunting fuck".
Don't overuse swear words. Don't take away the little power they have remaining.
F
fuckin'
Not the activity. That's fine.
And not even really the word, because I don't have a problem with the existance of swear words. In fact I think they are really important. It's important to have words which display emphasis at a level beyond which is socially acceptable.
For real anger.
For real passion.
For really getting your penis caught in the fly of your jeans.
So it annoys me when "fuckin'" is used as an adjective to substitute for everything and sometimes even nothing.
"I was at the fuckin' football, wasn't I" (this is actually probably more grammatically correct than the sentence would have been said in any instance).
There's no point. It's just swearing for the point of swearing. So what annoys me is excessive and pointless swearing.
I can already imagine a future where I am a grandfather (or even just father) and the use of the word "cunt" is rife, without anyone under 25 batting an eyelid, and I am seen as stuck in the past for thinking you shouldn't casually refer to your best friend as a "cunting fuck".
Don't overuse swear words. Don't take away the little power they have remaining.
Tuesday 5 April 2011
Suspicious mind.
I'm always highly suspicious of getting anything that everyone thinks is a good idea.
Therefore I am always putting off getting things that really would probably do me a lot of good.
Like a Mac.
Or an iPhone.
Or a girlfriend.
Therefore I am always putting off getting things that really would probably do me a lot of good.
Like a Mac.
Or an iPhone.
Or a girlfriend.
Mrs.
My mum was complaing recently about the use of burqas in Arab culture. She said it was an example of men oppressing women.
Sitting in the entrance hall was a letter for her, addressed to "Mrs. Philip Wells".
Sometimes we can't see sexism sitting in front of us.
Sitting in the entrance hall was a letter for her, addressed to "Mrs. Philip Wells".
Sometimes we can't see sexism sitting in front of us.
Wednesday 16 March 2011
No.20
American Hi-Fi's self-titled debut album was a fairly early one in terms of those I went out and bought myself. I did so on the strength of this lead single. It's a great tune.
The singer Stacy Jones is now part of Miley Cyrus's touring band.
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Rant.
Increasingly I have noticed that I don't learn anything new about people.
The same things happen with monotonous regularity. It's always the same people doing things that annoy me. And the same people being nice.
And if you're reading this as one of my close friends and worrying that I am talking directly about you, I'm almost certainly not. Fundamentally most of my friends are good people, despite their little annoyances. There are people out there more selfish than Roger the Alien.
It's the same people who are always willing to help.
And it's the same people who will sit back as if they are entitled to things that are done for them.
It's always the same who take without asking, or thanking. Or thinking.
Just like it's always the same people who give without wondering if it will ever be repaid.
It's the same people who empathise. And it's always the same people who believe no-one can empathise with their complex existence. As if they are the only people in the world who has these problems, or much worse versions of those problems.
It's the same people who make sure everyone else is ok before they think about themselves. And it's the one time that those people do think about themselves that everyone has a go at them for.
It's the nice people who are taken advantage of.
It's the wankers that people look up to becuase they're cool.
Seriously, it's like capitalism of personality.
We aren't equal. We aren't given a fair chance.
The world rewards you for being a dick.
No wonder the economical system of capitalism works. It's bound to. It's the only way we function as a society.
I have just absolutely proved that communism will fail in the end.
The same things happen with monotonous regularity. It's always the same people doing things that annoy me. And the same people being nice.
And if you're reading this as one of my close friends and worrying that I am talking directly about you, I'm almost certainly not. Fundamentally most of my friends are good people, despite their little annoyances. There are people out there more selfish than Roger the Alien.
It's the same people who are always willing to help.
And it's the same people who will sit back as if they are entitled to things that are done for them.
It's always the same who take without asking, or thanking. Or thinking.
Just like it's always the same people who give without wondering if it will ever be repaid.
It's the same people who empathise. And it's always the same people who believe no-one can empathise with their complex existence. As if they are the only people in the world who has these problems, or much worse versions of those problems.
It's the same people who make sure everyone else is ok before they think about themselves. And it's the one time that those people do think about themselves that everyone has a go at them for.
It's the nice people who are taken advantage of.
It's the wankers that people look up to becuase they're cool.
Seriously, it's like capitalism of personality.
We aren't equal. We aren't given a fair chance.
The world rewards you for being a dick.
No wonder the economical system of capitalism works. It's bound to. It's the only way we function as a society.
I have just absolutely proved that communism will fail in the end.
Monday 14 March 2011
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: E
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me
E
Entitlement
I should point out now that what I am about to say seems to demonise a certain group of people. It's not my intention to do so, but I am having to make crass generalisations in order to make a point.
When I say I am annoyed by "entitlement", I'm not talking about in terms of people actually being owed something. I am referring to when people believe they are entitled to something. I am not having a go at the upper classes for being born into their privilaged lifestyles (although I am certainly no monarchy fan, I see the benefits in keeping them around), I am actually having a go at many of the "normal" people I see in England today.
Let's take for example the BNP and UKIP (neither of which I would count as "normal", although I see an increasing trend of "I'm not racist, but I blame the bloody foreigners").
Without any research (as is the usual stipulation of this blog) I'm sure I remember Nick Griffin, or some other BNP diet-Nazi referring to immigrants coming over here and taking jobs away from "good, hard-working British people".
Now, I work at a place with a fairly high turnover of manual labour-type staff. Part of the reason for the high turnover is the rate of pay, which admitedly should be better. But another reason is that some of the time, it is quite hard work.
My job with the nice, old books is fun. But it's not very much fun, I can tell you, lifting boxes of books around all day. So we get a lot of people complaining about the hard work, and then eventually leaving.
But (and this is purely from my experience) you never see the immigrants complaining. They are happy to have the work. My experience tells me that (some, and certainly not all) of the British employees seem to feel that they are entitled to not have to work very hard in order to earn money.
But it's no fucking wonder, then, that the immigrants are taking their jobs. If I was an employer and had the oppurtunity to employ:
A) an obnoxious, mouthy twat who rather complain about work than do it
B) a hard-working person who just gets on with the job and doesn't complain.
I'll give you a hint.
It's not A.
And it is B.
B.
British scumbags,
You are not entitled to anything. You just have to work hard and get on with it.
I'm sure British employers would much rather employ people who are British, if just because British people tend to have a better understanding of English (debatable in some cases) and that can only be beneficial.
British people seem to think it is their right to be as lazy as they possbily can whilst keeping their job.
E
Entitlement
I should point out now that what I am about to say seems to demonise a certain group of people. It's not my intention to do so, but I am having to make crass generalisations in order to make a point.
When I say I am annoyed by "entitlement", I'm not talking about in terms of people actually being owed something. I am referring to when people believe they are entitled to something. I am not having a go at the upper classes for being born into their privilaged lifestyles (although I am certainly no monarchy fan, I see the benefits in keeping them around), I am actually having a go at many of the "normal" people I see in England today.
Let's take for example the BNP and UKIP (neither of which I would count as "normal", although I see an increasing trend of "I'm not racist, but I blame the bloody foreigners").
Without any research (as is the usual stipulation of this blog) I'm sure I remember Nick Griffin, or some other BNP diet-Nazi referring to immigrants coming over here and taking jobs away from "good, hard-working British people".
Now, I work at a place with a fairly high turnover of manual labour-type staff. Part of the reason for the high turnover is the rate of pay, which admitedly should be better. But another reason is that some of the time, it is quite hard work.
My job with the nice, old books is fun. But it's not very much fun, I can tell you, lifting boxes of books around all day. So we get a lot of people complaining about the hard work, and then eventually leaving.
But (and this is purely from my experience) you never see the immigrants complaining. They are happy to have the work. My experience tells me that (some, and certainly not all) of the British employees seem to feel that they are entitled to not have to work very hard in order to earn money.
But it's no fucking wonder, then, that the immigrants are taking their jobs. If I was an employer and had the oppurtunity to employ:
A) an obnoxious, mouthy twat who rather complain about work than do it
B) a hard-working person who just gets on with the job and doesn't complain.
I'll give you a hint.
It's not A.
And it is B.
B.
British scumbags,
You are not entitled to anything. You just have to work hard and get on with it.
I'm sure British employers would much rather employ people who are British, if just because British people tend to have a better understanding of English (debatable in some cases) and that can only be beneficial.
British people seem to think it is their right to be as lazy as they possbily can whilst keeping their job.
Friday 11 March 2011
No.19.
This is a song called "Effigy" by The Smashup.
An interesting fact is that the bassist in this video is actually the original bassist in Wheatus, of "Teenage Dirtbag" fame, which is also one of my favourite songs.
I had a lot of trouble when I first heard it trying to work out what most of the lyrics were.
I challenge you to try to work out what he sings throughout most of the first verse.
Old advert.
My favourite thing of the day so far at work has been this advert from a copy of Lorna Doone by R.D Blackmore from 1891 (which I have valued at: nothing).
The advert reads as follows (the grammar and syntax are correct, and probably the best part):
BEETHAM'S FRAGRANT HAIR GROWER
Is a delightfully Refreshing and Strengthening application for the Hair, quite free from grease or dye, and, being rather more stimulating than the "Capillary Fluid," is recommended where the Hair is Falling Off very much. For Baldness, or where the Hair has Fallen in Patches, it has been found marvelously effectual in producing a fresh growth of Long Glossy Hair. It also entirely Removes all Dandruff, and keeps the Skin of the Head Clean and Healthy. Bottles 2s, 6d., 4s, 6d.
I much prefer this advert to the Regaine, hair regrowth product you see on the TV.
If I start losing my hair, I am going to use BEETHAM'S FRAGRANT HAIR GROWER.
It also has a better name.
The advert reads as follows (the grammar and syntax are correct, and probably the best part):
BEETHAM'S FRAGRANT HAIR GROWER
Is a delightfully Refreshing and Strengthening application for the Hair, quite free from grease or dye, and, being rather more stimulating than the "Capillary Fluid," is recommended where the Hair is Falling Off very much. For Baldness, or where the Hair has Fallen in Patches, it has been found marvelously effectual in producing a fresh growth of Long Glossy Hair. It also entirely Removes all Dandruff, and keeps the Skin of the Head Clean and Healthy. Bottles 2s, 6d., 4s, 6d.
I much prefer this advert to the Regaine, hair regrowth product you see on the TV.
If I start losing my hair, I am going to use BEETHAM'S FRAGRANT HAIR GROWER.
It also has a better name.
Thursday 10 March 2011
No.18
A return of the songs I like.
No.18 is a band called Easyworld with their song 2nd Amendment.
Easyworld are one of a long line of early of early 2000's British rockbands who didn't make enough money for their record labels and got dropped.
They broke up after the release of this album, but left behind this great song and a couple of others.
This is my favourite, and is embedding disabled on YouTube.
Cats and Dogs Theory
When I was young I always assumed that all dogs were male, and all cats were female.
I didn't assume they interbred or anything, but I just didn't really have the concept of dogs and cats being male and female. Dogs were just male, or at least masculine, and cats were feminine.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that we never had any dogs or cats in my house, or at my grandparents, and so as such I never got used to the concept of describing dogs or cats in terms of their gender. So for a while I did just assume it was that way.
But I grew up, and learned.
But now, I look back and I wonder whether there wasn't something in my assumption. I mean, I don't think that dogs are all male and cats are all female, but the more I think about it, cats and dogs seems to apply themselves to the fundamental characteristics of the human gender.
In a sense they perhaps conform to 1950's gender stereotypes:
Cats tend to be smaller than dogs, and often less overtly aggressive. They are more interested in personal hygene than dogs. Cats like attention but they make you work much harder for it like they're playing hard-to-get. Dogs just blunder into any affection they can get.
Dogs have a bit of energy that they like to use up running around, but leave them at home and they are quite happy to lounge around. Cats are generally more active, they even like to get their own food occasionally, you'd never see a dog doing that unless he was starving.
Dogs are louder, like to be the centre of attention. Cats are more reserved, more austere perhaps. Dogs always chase cats, cats never chase dogs...
Now, I don't think my Cats and Dogs theory is anything new. After all, we already have the term "cat fight" for any time women have a fight, and I am often referred to as "The Big Dog" by my close friends.
I didn't assume they interbred or anything, but I just didn't really have the concept of dogs and cats being male and female. Dogs were just male, or at least masculine, and cats were feminine.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that we never had any dogs or cats in my house, or at my grandparents, and so as such I never got used to the concept of describing dogs or cats in terms of their gender. So for a while I did just assume it was that way.
But I grew up, and learned.
But now, I look back and I wonder whether there wasn't something in my assumption. I mean, I don't think that dogs are all male and cats are all female, but the more I think about it, cats and dogs seems to apply themselves to the fundamental characteristics of the human gender.
In a sense they perhaps conform to 1950's gender stereotypes:
Cats tend to be smaller than dogs, and often less overtly aggressive. They are more interested in personal hygene than dogs. Cats like attention but they make you work much harder for it like they're playing hard-to-get. Dogs just blunder into any affection they can get.
Dogs have a bit of energy that they like to use up running around, but leave them at home and they are quite happy to lounge around. Cats are generally more active, they even like to get their own food occasionally, you'd never see a dog doing that unless he was starving.
Dogs are louder, like to be the centre of attention. Cats are more reserved, more austere perhaps. Dogs always chase cats, cats never chase dogs...
Now, I don't think my Cats and Dogs theory is anything new. After all, we already have the term "cat fight" for any time women have a fight, and I am often referred to as "The Big Dog" by my close friends.
Tuesday 8 March 2011
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: D
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me
D
Dan Brown
Tempting as it is to use "David Honey" as my D on Things That Annoy Me, I'm not convinced that a sustained personal attack on one of the few people I actually like is not a sound way to construct friendships. Instead I have elected Dan Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code and other equally suck-cessful* books.
Now, firstly, and seemingly as usual, I have a confession. You see, I've never read a Dan Brown book all the way through. (I have sat through the Angels and Demons movie adaptation but only on a plane). I have read the beginning of The Da Vinci Code a couple of times. The first time it was recommended to me, and I started reading it, but was distracted by (probably) a much better book, because I then gave it up until the start of uni, when my deconstructive reading abilities were far superior.
The Da Vinci Code is just not a good book. It is just poorly written. Yet, it is enormously popular because the majority of people are stupid enough to fall for hype.
But it is true, I haven't read any of them all the way through. So perhaps instead of this being a full criticism of Dan Brown (who in truth doesn't really annoy me to badly) I am actually merely using his name as a famous example that can be applied to many other rubbish authors.
Because what really annoys me is that: quite a few people don't read very often these days, so it dismays me when the only thing they do read is rubbish like that found in Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyer (Twilight) or Christopher Paolini (Eragon).
It's not really a surprise that people can't get into reading if the books they read have no quality writing, depth or point.
No wonder you don't like reading if the one book you pick up in a year is Digital Fortress by Dan Brown.
And actually the worst of it, is the crisis that book publishers now face is all their own fault.
See, what they are driven by (and indeed, it seems, virtually every company is driven by) is profit in the short term. So if hypothetically HarperCollins releases something like Jedward's autobiography, sure, a few delusional Jedward fans might buy it and attempt to read the mindless drivel no doubt contained within the waste of trees.
But probably what will really happen, is that their young minds will become bored, and that is foremost because Jedward are boring and unskilled in the writing of compelling prose. These poor Jedward fans (soon to be Justin Bieber fans, and then soon to be heavy-drinking and mass-drug-consumption fans) will assume that they didn't enjoy reading Jedward's autobiography because reading is shit.
But reading isn't shit. Jedward are shit.
They will have missed the point that it isn't reading that has bored them, but the rubbish in the pages that they happened to have chosen.
So in the future they don't read. They stop buying books. They stop buying HarperCollins books. For the sake of £11.99 (and a giant Mars bar for only £1 extra) HarperCollins has disinterested a reader for a lifetime. They have fucked themselves over.
Now that annoys me.
*I think you'll agree this is a stunning example of low-brow word play.
D
Dan Brown
Tempting as it is to use "David Honey" as my D on Things That Annoy Me, I'm not convinced that a sustained personal attack on one of the few people I actually like is not a sound way to construct friendships. Instead I have elected Dan Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code and other equally suck-cessful* books.
Now, firstly, and seemingly as usual, I have a confession. You see, I've never read a Dan Brown book all the way through. (I have sat through the Angels and Demons movie adaptation but only on a plane). I have read the beginning of The Da Vinci Code a couple of times. The first time it was recommended to me, and I started reading it, but was distracted by (probably) a much better book, because I then gave it up until the start of uni, when my deconstructive reading abilities were far superior.
The Da Vinci Code is just not a good book. It is just poorly written. Yet, it is enormously popular because the majority of people are stupid enough to fall for hype.
But it is true, I haven't read any of them all the way through. So perhaps instead of this being a full criticism of Dan Brown (who in truth doesn't really annoy me to badly) I am actually merely using his name as a famous example that can be applied to many other rubbish authors.
Because what really annoys me is that: quite a few people don't read very often these days, so it dismays me when the only thing they do read is rubbish like that found in Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyer (Twilight) or Christopher Paolini (Eragon).
It's not really a surprise that people can't get into reading if the books they read have no quality writing, depth or point.
No wonder you don't like reading if the one book you pick up in a year is Digital Fortress by Dan Brown.
And actually the worst of it, is the crisis that book publishers now face is all their own fault.
See, what they are driven by (and indeed, it seems, virtually every company is driven by) is profit in the short term. So if hypothetically HarperCollins releases something like Jedward's autobiography, sure, a few delusional Jedward fans might buy it and attempt to read the mindless drivel no doubt contained within the waste of trees.
But probably what will really happen, is that their young minds will become bored, and that is foremost because Jedward are boring and unskilled in the writing of compelling prose. These poor Jedward fans (soon to be Justin Bieber fans, and then soon to be heavy-drinking and mass-drug-consumption fans) will assume that they didn't enjoy reading Jedward's autobiography because reading is shit.
But reading isn't shit. Jedward are shit.
They will have missed the point that it isn't reading that has bored them, but the rubbish in the pages that they happened to have chosen.
So in the future they don't read. They stop buying books. They stop buying HarperCollins books. For the sake of £11.99 (and a giant Mars bar for only £1 extra) HarperCollins has disinterested a reader for a lifetime. They have fucked themselves over.
Now that annoys me.
*I think you'll agree this is a stunning example of low-brow word play.
Monday 7 March 2011
I'm in love with a different Lacey.
Seriously now.
And to tell the truth I'm not even a fan of this song particularly on the recorded version.
But something about her singing it here.
If she is attempting to battle Hayley Williams for my potential affection she is doing a seriously, seriously good job.
Tuesday 1 March 2011
My commodity dependence.
I want this.
I want this.
I want this but I would settle for this.
I want to do this but will probably end up like this.
I want this but will more likely go for this.
I want lots of these, including this and this.
Most of the rest of the things I want are less simple, tangible, or less easy to define in a single picture.
They do exist though, and there are lots of them.
I want this.
I want this but I would settle for this.
I want to do this but will probably end up like this.
I want this but will more likely go for this.
I want lots of these, including this and this.
Most of the rest of the things I want are less simple, tangible, or less easy to define in a single picture.
They do exist though, and there are lots of them.
Friday 25 February 2011
Tony Hawk, and all the proof I need.
As a man with a well-documented historic inherent inability at anything involving balance, co-ordination and skill, I have learned to avoid such ventures.
I had a brief mid-life crisis around the age of 15, when I realised that I had spent my previous teenage years being a bit of a bookworm and an academic. It was in this time that I began my ill-fated attempt to learn to skateboard.
Spurned on, I think, by the Tony Hawk's skating games, in which a novice needs only press the X button to ollie seven feet into the air without a care in the world, I thought it would be a good idea to break with tradition and try something a little more rebellious.
(Note here that it seems odd that these days, the most rebellious people I know, who, for example, speak out against the government and injustice, are actually just those who were intelligent and worked hard academically. Most of the "rebels" from my youth have taken the seemingly rather tried-and-tested formula of rebelling of: getting a girl pregnant, leaving her when realising the actual workload involving in raising a child, and then attempting to recapture their youth by constantly complaining about work [even though it's probably the only reason they have any friends] and spending all of their free time drinking and taking drugs. Ooh, you rebels. Rebelling just like everyone else.)
Anyway, so I tried to learn to skate.
But I failed.
Tony Hawk had given me a false sense of the amount of dedication merely involved for a teenager just to "go along" to any reasonable level. I also fear that my ever present fear of injury was only magnified by the fear of looking like a prat.
This is one of histories lessons for me:
Adventurous sports, Dave, that require genuine practice and ability, are best left to those who are fueled only by adrenaline and/or weed.
So why then, why, have I caved in and decided to attempt skiing this Saturday?
I'll be venturing to a dry slope (you know, the only way you can actually ski in England) to indulge in a pursuit that I probably wont be very good at.
I've never been skiing before.
It looks lovely in the brochure. I happen to have written a lot of travel guides about all the best places to go, and the kind of fun you're supposed to have.
But I feel like there is a little bit of logic to my plan. Firstly, I can learn in this short 4/5 hour session whether or not I actually enjoy the concept of skiing. This could affect potential future holidays. You see, I'm already injecting ruthless logic.
Also, I think it is somewhat of a basic survival instinct too.
I should learn to ski.
Just in case...
Just in case I'm a secret agent on the slopes of the alps being chased by angry Russians with sub-machine guns. Using my skills which I honed on the infamous dry slopes of Mount UK, I would evade capture and maybe trick a snowmobile into driving into a tree.
In my mind, you'll notice, I have become James Bond.
I feel like in reality, my experiences on the slopes are perhaps likely to be more akin to someone like James Joyce, who would likely:
a) be confused of his obscure location
b) be overwhelmed by a sense of both fear, and futility
c) rather be sitting at home writing.
I had a brief mid-life crisis around the age of 15, when I realised that I had spent my previous teenage years being a bit of a bookworm and an academic. It was in this time that I began my ill-fated attempt to learn to skateboard.
Spurned on, I think, by the Tony Hawk's skating games, in which a novice needs only press the X button to ollie seven feet into the air without a care in the world, I thought it would be a good idea to break with tradition and try something a little more rebellious.
(Note here that it seems odd that these days, the most rebellious people I know, who, for example, speak out against the government and injustice, are actually just those who were intelligent and worked hard academically. Most of the "rebels" from my youth have taken the seemingly rather tried-and-tested formula of rebelling of: getting a girl pregnant, leaving her when realising the actual workload involving in raising a child, and then attempting to recapture their youth by constantly complaining about work [even though it's probably the only reason they have any friends] and spending all of their free time drinking and taking drugs. Ooh, you rebels. Rebelling just like everyone else.)
Anyway, so I tried to learn to skate.
But I failed.
Tony Hawk had given me a false sense of the amount of dedication merely involved for a teenager just to "go along" to any reasonable level. I also fear that my ever present fear of injury was only magnified by the fear of looking like a prat.
This is one of histories lessons for me:
Adventurous sports, Dave, that require genuine practice and ability, are best left to those who are fueled only by adrenaline and/or weed.
So why then, why, have I caved in and decided to attempt skiing this Saturday?
I'll be venturing to a dry slope (you know, the only way you can actually ski in England) to indulge in a pursuit that I probably wont be very good at.
I've never been skiing before.
It looks lovely in the brochure. I happen to have written a lot of travel guides about all the best places to go, and the kind of fun you're supposed to have.
But I feel like there is a little bit of logic to my plan. Firstly, I can learn in this short 4/5 hour session whether or not I actually enjoy the concept of skiing. This could affect potential future holidays. You see, I'm already injecting ruthless logic.
Also, I think it is somewhat of a basic survival instinct too.
I should learn to ski.
Just in case...
Just in case I'm a secret agent on the slopes of the alps being chased by angry Russians with sub-machine guns. Using my skills which I honed on the infamous dry slopes of Mount UK, I would evade capture and maybe trick a snowmobile into driving into a tree.
In my mind, you'll notice, I have become James Bond.
I feel like in reality, my experiences on the slopes are perhaps likely to be more akin to someone like James Joyce, who would likely:
a) be confused of his obscure location
b) be overwhelmed by a sense of both fear, and futility
c) rather be sitting at home writing.
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: C
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:
C:
Cynicism
Now, I think you would be forgiven for not forgiving me for naming cyncism as my "C" of things that annoy me. I have cultivated a personality based almost entirely on cynicism (with the occasional embellishment of self-loathing, it is to be admitted), but nevertheless, induldge me.
Becuase cynicism serves no purpose at all. Well, no, it does have one purpose, and that single purpose is to look all wise and insightful when something goes wrong. Cynicism puts doubt in the minds of those who had previously been clear. It never presents a solution to a problem, it is only capable of mocking or deriding the big ideas of others.
C:
Cynicism
Now, I think you would be forgiven for not forgiving me for naming cyncism as my "C" of things that annoy me. I have cultivated a personality based almost entirely on cynicism (with the occasional embellishment of self-loathing, it is to be admitted), but nevertheless, induldge me.
Becuase cynicism serves no purpose at all. Well, no, it does have one purpose, and that single purpose is to look all wise and insightful when something goes wrong. Cynicism puts doubt in the minds of those who had previously been clear. It never presents a solution to a problem, it is only capable of mocking or deriding the big ideas of others.
Wednesday 16 February 2011
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: B
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:
B:
Bicycles
Bicycles hold an interesting status in annoying me. No matter where they are, they piss me off.
So.
A) If I'm walking along the pavement on a nice summers day you can bet that some twat on a bike will be ignoring the rules and just riding slowly and not very well, making it difficult for me to walk, taking up too much space. Arrrghhh, nothing annoys me more...
B) ... except when I'm standing on a train and some twat who's ridden his chuffing bike to the station already gets on and jams his handlebars into my genitals and then glares at me for not making room. I've made this point before.
C) And then there are bloody cyclists on the road.
You're too slow for the road. You slow me down. You make me worry that I might accidentally hit and kill you and then I'd go to prison and potentially be molested.
Cyclists want me to be molested.
B:
Bicycles
Bicycles hold an interesting status in annoying me. No matter where they are, they piss me off.
So.
A) If I'm walking along the pavement on a nice summers day you can bet that some twat on a bike will be ignoring the rules and just riding slowly and not very well, making it difficult for me to walk, taking up too much space. Arrrghhh, nothing annoys me more...
B) ... except when I'm standing on a train and some twat who's ridden his chuffing bike to the station already gets on and jams his handlebars into my genitals and then glares at me for not making room. I've made this point before.
C) And then there are bloody cyclists on the road.
You're too slow for the road. You slow me down. You make me worry that I might accidentally hit and kill you and then I'd go to prison and potentially be molested.
Cyclists want me to be molested.
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me: A
A-Z of Things That Annoy Me:
A:
A-Z Lists
I hate A-Z Lists.
Stupid pointless things. Don't even make any sense. Why would the world conveniently catalogue everything on a certain subject with 26 individually lettered options? Even trying to do this I haven't put any real thought into the consequences.
I mean there are so many things beginning with S that annoy me. I could probably roll of about 26 of them anyway. Maybe I should just do a list of 26 things beginning with S that annoy me.
Trying to do an A-Z list means that probably at some point you're going to have to use the word "xylophone", or worse "x-ray" which isn't even a real fucking word. I don't think there is anything I hate beginning with "x". I don't know what I'm going to do.
Stupid idea. 26 different things. I'm gonna get bored. I'm gonna lose interest at about C and then stop altogether at like F.
A:
A-Z Lists
I hate A-Z Lists.
Stupid pointless things. Don't even make any sense. Why would the world conveniently catalogue everything on a certain subject with 26 individually lettered options? Even trying to do this I haven't put any real thought into the consequences.
I mean there are so many things beginning with S that annoy me. I could probably roll of about 26 of them anyway. Maybe I should just do a list of 26 things beginning with S that annoy me.
Trying to do an A-Z list means that probably at some point you're going to have to use the word "xylophone", or worse "x-ray" which isn't even a real fucking word. I don't think there is anything I hate beginning with "x". I don't know what I'm going to do.
Stupid idea. 26 different things. I'm gonna get bored. I'm gonna lose interest at about C and then stop altogether at like F.
To revitalise this blog...
Welcome to the future.
This is my A-Z Index of Things That Annoy Me.
Starting with...
This is my A-Z Index of Things That Annoy Me.
Starting with...
Tuesday 15 February 2011
Monday 14 February 2011
Without context, this won't make sense, so ignore it.
I've been over it in my head so much today.
Becuase it's the kind of thing that I can only really think about.
The main problem is I quite often wonder if it's me that is being difficult.
But no, it's not, it's not my fault.
I did everything I could.
Becuase it's the kind of thing that I can only really think about.
The main problem is I quite often wonder if it's me that is being difficult.
But no, it's not, it's not my fault.
I did everything I could.
Saint Valentine's Day
It's Valentine's Day. As "Day"'s go it ranks for me a long way behind Boxing, my birth, and Christmas, but somewhere ahead of Independance and Mon.
Whilst I would love to spend a blog reflecting on my current personal situation, detailing my fears, angers and soul-destroying emptiness, I have instead opted for the less emotionally draining option of having a go at Valentine's Day instead.
Because it's not just the rampant commercialism, dear reader, and it's not just the love-sick sentimentality that affects people who would otherwise refer to their partner as the troublesome constraint on their freedom and parents of their semi-neglected and futureless children. No! (well, I suppose technically Yes! But! Also!...) The problem I have with Valentine's Day is the acting surprised.
Surely now, if you're going to make an overblown surprise romantic gesture then Valentine's Day is the most terrible possible day to do it. Because any other day (apart from perhaps the subsequent week after VD, because you'll just appear to have forgot) then it will be a genuine surprise that will make your partner feel good.
But on Valentine's Day it's in the back of your mind anyway. In fact it's pretty much what is least expected. A bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on any other day would be a wonderful surprise. But a bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on Valentine's Day just feels that you're doing pretty much the bare minimum in your relationship.
David Wells, Love Advisor
Relevant and practical since 2012.
Whilst I would love to spend a blog reflecting on my current personal situation, detailing my fears, angers and soul-destroying emptiness, I have instead opted for the less emotionally draining option of having a go at Valentine's Day instead.
Because it's not just the rampant commercialism, dear reader, and it's not just the love-sick sentimentality that affects people who would otherwise refer to their partner as the troublesome constraint on their freedom and parents of their semi-neglected and futureless children. No! (well, I suppose technically Yes! But! Also!...) The problem I have with Valentine's Day is the acting surprised.
Surely now, if you're going to make an overblown surprise romantic gesture then Valentine's Day is the most terrible possible day to do it. Because any other day (apart from perhaps the subsequent week after VD, because you'll just appear to have forgot) then it will be a genuine surprise that will make your partner feel good.
But on Valentine's Day it's in the back of your mind anyway. In fact it's pretty much what is least expected. A bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on any other day would be a wonderful surprise. But a bunch of flowers and a romantic meal on Valentine's Day just feels that you're doing pretty much the bare minimum in your relationship.
David Wells, Love Advisor
Relevant and practical since 2012.
Friday 4 February 2011
Jeremy Clarkson and the Mexican Scandal
Why is it still big news when Jeremy Clarkson offends somebody?
He's an antiquated magniloquent who lumbers through his rants like some sort of scavanging dinosaur; he probably doesn't fully understand everything that's going on, but it seems like a good idea at the time. And the Top Gear audience give him a laugh.
We tolerate his stupid opinions because he is brave enough to say them out loud.
So when Jeremy Clarkson suggested that Mexican people were lazy, flatulent and fat, it can't have come as a big surprise.
Now, my point becomes a little invalidated when I say that I am a big Top Gear fan. Guilty. It's silly and it's over-the-top and it's childish, but it's still good entertainment. But I have to admit, that when Richard Hammond set up the "cars take on a national identity" line leading into Clarkson's monologue, I could already see what was coming.
And the thing is, I don't specifically object to national stereotypes being portrayed, everyone does it in comedy, and I think the whole concept about cars and national identity is an interesting one. However, the problem I think I really had with it was that it just wasn't funny.
The "Mexicans are lazy" stereotype is one that doesn't really ring true in England. It is completely an American stereotype which the Top Gear writers have decided to borrow and attribute to Jeremy. I don't know about you, but I don't see very many Mexicans in England, and certainly the concept of Mexicans being lazy is something that has only been perpetuated by American TV shows.
No, but it's true, we don't see many Mexicans in this country. They are probably all too full up on their refried beans to make the trip over... Ahaaaa you see, I was in on it all along!
Seriously, though.
In this sense, I am not so much annoyed at Jeremy Clarkson for expressing this daft "opinion" (as Stewart Lee has said "the opinions he has for money"), but rather that for some reason the writers have felt the need to talentlessly jump of the American bandwagon of stereotyping Mexicans in this way.
What can we expect next? Jeremy makes a sexist comment about all the "soccer moms" in the audience? Seriously Top Gear writers, if you are going to make crass generalisations at least have the decency to be funny.
He's an antiquated magniloquent who lumbers through his rants like some sort of scavanging dinosaur; he probably doesn't fully understand everything that's going on, but it seems like a good idea at the time. And the Top Gear audience give him a laugh.
We tolerate his stupid opinions because he is brave enough to say them out loud.
So when Jeremy Clarkson suggested that Mexican people were lazy, flatulent and fat, it can't have come as a big surprise.
Now, my point becomes a little invalidated when I say that I am a big Top Gear fan. Guilty. It's silly and it's over-the-top and it's childish, but it's still good entertainment. But I have to admit, that when Richard Hammond set up the "cars take on a national identity" line leading into Clarkson's monologue, I could already see what was coming.
And the thing is, I don't specifically object to national stereotypes being portrayed, everyone does it in comedy, and I think the whole concept about cars and national identity is an interesting one. However, the problem I think I really had with it was that it just wasn't funny.
The "Mexicans are lazy" stereotype is one that doesn't really ring true in England. It is completely an American stereotype which the Top Gear writers have decided to borrow and attribute to Jeremy. I don't know about you, but I don't see very many Mexicans in England, and certainly the concept of Mexicans being lazy is something that has only been perpetuated by American TV shows.
No, but it's true, we don't see many Mexicans in this country. They are probably all too full up on their refried beans to make the trip over... Ahaaaa you see, I was in on it all along!
Seriously, though.
In this sense, I am not so much annoyed at Jeremy Clarkson for expressing this daft "opinion" (as Stewart Lee has said "the opinions he has for money"), but rather that for some reason the writers have felt the need to talentlessly jump of the American bandwagon of stereotyping Mexicans in this way.
What can we expect next? Jeremy makes a sexist comment about all the "soccer moms" in the audience? Seriously Top Gear writers, if you are going to make crass generalisations at least have the decency to be funny.
Wednesday 2 February 2011
O.J Mayo, and unrealistic expectations.
It's bloody basketball again, but only for a brief second, and only to illustrate a point.
This handsome young gentleman is O.J Mayo.
He is famous (aside from having a name that could substitute as a rushed shopping list) for being a professional basketball in the NBA. He plays for the Memphis Grizzlies.
O.J Mayo's career has so far been seen as a bit of a disappointment. It's not that he isn't a good player, becaue he is good, and has played well (I have heard him described as a "poor man's Kobe Bryant" [which scales nicely as a "tramp's Michael Jordan"]).
Nevertheless, he get's a lot of criticism for being not as good as he was supposed to be. When he entered the NBA, a number of people (mainly his own agent, believe it or not) heaped praises onto his ability. Scouts were describing him as a potential superstar, and a future Hall-of-Famer. He hasn't lived up to it.
Now, consensus has been drawn that while he is a good player, he will never be an amazing player. And the only reason that anyone ever thought that he could be an amazing player, was because he looks like he should be an amazing player. He has a typical NBA star-look, he's charamatic and photogenic.
I use this lenghty annecdote, firstly, to finally use that shopping list/name joke at the beginning (I've had it for ages and there has never been a suitable platform), but also to illustrate that unfair nature of attractiveness.
I don't know for sure, but I always think I am naturally kinder/more generous to people if they are attractive. I don't know if it's a conscious decision, but it certainly seems to happen, and I don't think I'm the only one. Better looking people get treated better. Us less attractive people want to establish favour with them, perhaps they will like us? Perhaps they will let us look at them a bit longer?
However, in O.J Mayo's case it has worked against him. Because he had the look of a star, he also had the expectation to live up to.
I'm sure I was going to make an actual point. But you'll have to make do with that last one. I'm tired, and that's about as good as it's gonna get.
 |
| Tropicana and a jar of Hellmann's? |
This handsome young gentleman is O.J Mayo.
He is famous (aside from having a name that could substitute as a rushed shopping list) for being a professional basketball in the NBA. He plays for the Memphis Grizzlies.
O.J Mayo's career has so far been seen as a bit of a disappointment. It's not that he isn't a good player, becaue he is good, and has played well (I have heard him described as a "poor man's Kobe Bryant" [which scales nicely as a "tramp's Michael Jordan"]).
Nevertheless, he get's a lot of criticism for being not as good as he was supposed to be. When he entered the NBA, a number of people (mainly his own agent, believe it or not) heaped praises onto his ability. Scouts were describing him as a potential superstar, and a future Hall-of-Famer. He hasn't lived up to it.
Now, consensus has been drawn that while he is a good player, he will never be an amazing player. And the only reason that anyone ever thought that he could be an amazing player, was because he looks like he should be an amazing player. He has a typical NBA star-look, he's charamatic and photogenic.
I use this lenghty annecdote, firstly, to finally use that shopping list/name joke at the beginning (I've had it for ages and there has never been a suitable platform), but also to illustrate that unfair nature of attractiveness.
I don't know for sure, but I always think I am naturally kinder/more generous to people if they are attractive. I don't know if it's a conscious decision, but it certainly seems to happen, and I don't think I'm the only one. Better looking people get treated better. Us less attractive people want to establish favour with them, perhaps they will like us? Perhaps they will let us look at them a bit longer?
However, in O.J Mayo's case it has worked against him. Because he had the look of a star, he also had the expectation to live up to.
I'm sure I was going to make an actual point. But you'll have to make do with that last one. I'm tired, and that's about as good as it's gonna get.
Saturday 22 January 2011
Happiness.
Listening to Linkin Park's third single from Minutes to Midnight, "Leave Out All The Rest", I was reminded of something.
I've mentioned in this blog sometime before a short story called "Vanilla Bright Like Eminem" by Michael Faber. The story deals with the happiest moment in a man's life. It's a very good story, and whilst I am aware the likelihood of you reading is small, I still feel I shouldn't reveal too much and spoil it (although the brilliance is in the telling, not the ending, as with all quality pieces of writing).
But the concept of the happiest moment of someone's life is difficult. I mean, it might be fairly easy to pinpoint the happy times of your life against the sad times, but actually to pick a specific moment as the happiest. Not easy. Perhaps not even possible, are you really ever properly aware.
I was certainly very happy the day that I recieved my official degree certificate. But ultimately I knew that I was going to get it, so probably most of the happiness had disapated long ago. The degree was more a build of several happy moments where I got good results, or did well in a presentation or understood something in class. The feeling of finishing all of your essays is a good one too.
When I got a job recently I was very happy. But again, in a sense I had already been happy in the first place to have found the job, and then happier still when I was given an interview. Again, just a process of general happiness.
I was reminded, however, by Linkin Park because I remember a moment in which I did feel happy. I don't know if you could call it the happiest I've ever felt, but I certainly felt very happy. And it was odd, because it wasn't specific.
I wont furnish you with the full details, but I can tell you that I had just finished watching a film that I don't particularly like (based on a book I hate), and was listening to this Linkin Park song, which I do like, but don't really consider to be a real 'favourite' song or anything. There were other extenuating circumstances that I won't delve into, but nothing that specifically should count as a happiest moment. 'Better' things have happened, but just sitting their listening to it, I was aware that I was completely happy.
I've mentioned in this blog sometime before a short story called "Vanilla Bright Like Eminem" by Michael Faber. The story deals with the happiest moment in a man's life. It's a very good story, and whilst I am aware the likelihood of you reading is small, I still feel I shouldn't reveal too much and spoil it (although the brilliance is in the telling, not the ending, as with all quality pieces of writing).
But the concept of the happiest moment of someone's life is difficult. I mean, it might be fairly easy to pinpoint the happy times of your life against the sad times, but actually to pick a specific moment as the happiest. Not easy. Perhaps not even possible, are you really ever properly aware.
I was certainly very happy the day that I recieved my official degree certificate. But ultimately I knew that I was going to get it, so probably most of the happiness had disapated long ago. The degree was more a build of several happy moments where I got good results, or did well in a presentation or understood something in class. The feeling of finishing all of your essays is a good one too.
When I got a job recently I was very happy. But again, in a sense I had already been happy in the first place to have found the job, and then happier still when I was given an interview. Again, just a process of general happiness.
I was reminded, however, by Linkin Park because I remember a moment in which I did feel happy. I don't know if you could call it the happiest I've ever felt, but I certainly felt very happy. And it was odd, because it wasn't specific.
I wont furnish you with the full details, but I can tell you that I had just finished watching a film that I don't particularly like (based on a book I hate), and was listening to this Linkin Park song, which I do like, but don't really consider to be a real 'favourite' song or anything. There were other extenuating circumstances that I won't delve into, but nothing that specifically should count as a happiest moment. 'Better' things have happened, but just sitting their listening to it, I was aware that I was completely happy.
Sunday 16 January 2011
Licking.
At some point around half past one last night Alex Baker began licking my face.
His nature as a "dog" changing from hyperbolic sexual simile (technically a metaphor but I enjoyed the alliterative sibilance) to terrifying reality in an explosive and not altogether pleasant fashion.
He never did explain it. He licked other people too. I feel that perhaps in licking my face he was basically opening the door to the opportunity to lick other people's faces: probably people who are somewhat more female than I am.
In licking my face he was making it seem as if licking people's faces was a natural occurance in his life; a platonic and charming gesture to display affection without the suggestion he was gaining any sexual gratification from the lick.
I'm not suggesting he gained sexual gratification from licking my face, but perhaps in the probing of the more attractive female face he could do just that.
And now an apology. It seems that I only ever blog about two things.
1) My pathetic nature and weakness of character in the face of any minor setbacks.
2) What happens when I go out.
1 is fair enough, I think you'll agree. A document of my failings is half of what I set this blog up to be. But 2. No. 2 has crept in to my ramblings, perhaps in an attempt to keep your interest.
Perhaps you hope I'll reveal some deep personal secrets (oh, there are dark, disgusting and shameful ones coming up in the following weeks, I promise).
For the moment, you'll have to make do with an opinion I have on some people who I see sometimes.
Generally, I find that the people who frequent the PavTav are good people.
The example I usually refer to (I've probably said it before) is that on the few occasions I have ventured to Oceana or Walkabout or other commercial clubs I have always seen people fighting.
I go to PavTav far (FAR) more frequently, and have seen possibly three fights.
Generally you can rate decent men on how likely they are to throw a punch when they've had a couple too many.
But I have realised recently that some of the PavTav people, and perhaps not those who I would refer to specifically as friends are genuine selfish wankers.
If there is one thing I hate, it is selfishness (which is slightly surprising as one of my closest friends is easily the most selfish person in the world, easily) but I think some people are just so blatantly out for themselves and not giving a shit about other people's feelings or enjoyment.
I have spoken.
His nature as a "dog" changing from hyperbolic sexual simile (technically a metaphor but I enjoyed the alliterative sibilance) to terrifying reality in an explosive and not altogether pleasant fashion.
He never did explain it. He licked other people too. I feel that perhaps in licking my face he was basically opening the door to the opportunity to lick other people's faces: probably people who are somewhat more female than I am.
In licking my face he was making it seem as if licking people's faces was a natural occurance in his life; a platonic and charming gesture to display affection without the suggestion he was gaining any sexual gratification from the lick.
I'm not suggesting he gained sexual gratification from licking my face, but perhaps in the probing of the more attractive female face he could do just that.
And now an apology. It seems that I only ever blog about two things.
1) My pathetic nature and weakness of character in the face of any minor setbacks.
2) What happens when I go out.
1 is fair enough, I think you'll agree. A document of my failings is half of what I set this blog up to be. But 2. No. 2 has crept in to my ramblings, perhaps in an attempt to keep your interest.
Perhaps you hope I'll reveal some deep personal secrets (oh, there are dark, disgusting and shameful ones coming up in the following weeks, I promise).
For the moment, you'll have to make do with an opinion I have on some people who I see sometimes.
Generally, I find that the people who frequent the PavTav are good people.
The example I usually refer to (I've probably said it before) is that on the few occasions I have ventured to Oceana or Walkabout or other commercial clubs I have always seen people fighting.
I go to PavTav far (FAR) more frequently, and have seen possibly three fights.
Generally you can rate decent men on how likely they are to throw a punch when they've had a couple too many.
But I have realised recently that some of the PavTav people, and perhaps not those who I would refer to specifically as friends are genuine selfish wankers.
If there is one thing I hate, it is selfishness (which is slightly surprising as one of my closest friends is easily the most selfish person in the world, easily) but I think some people are just so blatantly out for themselves and not giving a shit about other people's feelings or enjoyment.
I have spoken.
Friday 14 January 2011
I stood at my nans funeral, and I was trying quite hard not to cry.
For a long time it had felt surreal. I don't think I quite knew how to act.
A funeral shouldn't really be a time for self-analysis I don't think, but nevertheless standing there in the cold it wasn't myself that I was sad for, and if I tell the truth it wasn't my nan.
I was watching my grandad. And that's what got me.
I was fairly conscious that during the week since my nan passing away I was finding it tough to be around my grandad. And not because I didn't want to be there and support him and care, because I absolutely care.
I find it tough, I think, because I feel more sad for him than I do for me. That's what makes me cry.
I don't know why, and I don't know how I feel about it.
Sorry, I'll try to be a little more upbeat next time!
For a long time it had felt surreal. I don't think I quite knew how to act.
A funeral shouldn't really be a time for self-analysis I don't think, but nevertheless standing there in the cold it wasn't myself that I was sad for, and if I tell the truth it wasn't my nan.
I was watching my grandad. And that's what got me.
I was fairly conscious that during the week since my nan passing away I was finding it tough to be around my grandad. And not because I didn't want to be there and support him and care, because I absolutely care.
I find it tough, I think, because I feel more sad for him than I do for me. That's what makes me cry.
I don't know why, and I don't know how I feel about it.
Sorry, I'll try to be a little more upbeat next time!
My two opinions.
I haven't blogged for a while. Again.
Blogspot is disabled at work so I can't blog on the little breaks that I get.
Instead, I have decided, I shall write out my posts at work, email them to myself and post them later, perhaps taking care to edit my erstwhile thoughts.
So, here's the one for today.
There's that kid, Edward Woollard. You've seen/heard about him. He was sentenced to over two and a half years in prison for throwing a fire extinguisher off the top of the Tory headquarters during the big student protest.
My own internal opinion is actually fairly divided on this one, I haven't made up my mind yet. But invariably I fall into two types of thought depending on the time of day:
1) This kid did something inherantly wrong. No matter which way you look at it, you have to be a thoughtless individual to throw a fire extinguisher off the top of a building and not give a fuck about the consequences (be they your own legal ones, or just the immediate ones of what happens when a fire extinguisher hits someone's skull at that speed). Yes, he is young and inexperienced, but come on, he's knew better than that. He knew what he was doing and he got caught, and there are thousands of kids (and older people) who are just as thoughtless.
What we need is a society where people actually care about other people, and no matter the circumstances you cannot throw something from a building that has the possibility of killing someone, and not be severely punished.
2) You're talking about an 18-year-old who got caught up in a single moment. We've all done stupid things we can't explain. It was his first trip to London on his own. It was his first student protest. He had no idea what he was getting into. It was probably a very surreal experience, and in that state of mind people do stupid things. He proves it.
So now we punish him horrendously for being a human being. We give him a more severe punishment than some drunk drivers have gotten for killing people. That's the message that has been sent out. Killing someone isn't as bad as endangering someone.
The judge "made an example" out of him, but these are incredably specific circumstances and very rare. Most people wouldn't throw a fire extinguisher off a roof, no matter the circumstances, and anyone who is in the state of mind to do something really stupid like that aren't going to first think "ooh yeah, but that kid got 2 years in prison for throwing a fire extinguisher off a roof, better not complete this act of mindless stupidity".
That's the point. It was a thoughtless act. He didn't think, and he should be punished for not thinking. But to punish someone that young and that severely in those circumstances...
Perhaps instead of investing money in sentencing kids to jail sentences for thoughless act, maybe we should pump money into education so that everyone thinks a little bit more about the consequences of their actions.
Blogspot is disabled at work so I can't blog on the little breaks that I get.
Instead, I have decided, I shall write out my posts at work, email them to myself and post them later, perhaps taking care to edit my erstwhile thoughts.
So, here's the one for today.
There's that kid, Edward Woollard. You've seen/heard about him. He was sentenced to over two and a half years in prison for throwing a fire extinguisher off the top of the Tory headquarters during the big student protest.
My own internal opinion is actually fairly divided on this one, I haven't made up my mind yet. But invariably I fall into two types of thought depending on the time of day:
1) This kid did something inherantly wrong. No matter which way you look at it, you have to be a thoughtless individual to throw a fire extinguisher off the top of a building and not give a fuck about the consequences (be they your own legal ones, or just the immediate ones of what happens when a fire extinguisher hits someone's skull at that speed). Yes, he is young and inexperienced, but come on, he's knew better than that. He knew what he was doing and he got caught, and there are thousands of kids (and older people) who are just as thoughtless.
What we need is a society where people actually care about other people, and no matter the circumstances you cannot throw something from a building that has the possibility of killing someone, and not be severely punished.
2) You're talking about an 18-year-old who got caught up in a single moment. We've all done stupid things we can't explain. It was his first trip to London on his own. It was his first student protest. He had no idea what he was getting into. It was probably a very surreal experience, and in that state of mind people do stupid things. He proves it.
So now we punish him horrendously for being a human being. We give him a more severe punishment than some drunk drivers have gotten for killing people. That's the message that has been sent out. Killing someone isn't as bad as endangering someone.
The judge "made an example" out of him, but these are incredably specific circumstances and very rare. Most people wouldn't throw a fire extinguisher off a roof, no matter the circumstances, and anyone who is in the state of mind to do something really stupid like that aren't going to first think "ooh yeah, but that kid got 2 years in prison for throwing a fire extinguisher off a roof, better not complete this act of mindless stupidity".
That's the point. It was a thoughtless act. He didn't think, and he should be punished for not thinking. But to punish someone that young and that severely in those circumstances...
Perhaps instead of investing money in sentencing kids to jail sentences for thoughless act, maybe we should pump money into education so that everyone thinks a little bit more about the consequences of their actions.
Thursday 13 January 2011
What would you do?
OK so, what would you do if you could have what you wanted... but only for a little bit. A very little bit.
Because then it goes away with no real explanation (even though you can make an educated guess).
Do you take it, and enjoy it for the moment you have it? Even knowing that it is going?
What would you do?
I know what I'd do. I know what I do.
Because then it goes away with no real explanation (even though you can make an educated guess).
Do you take it, and enjoy it for the moment you have it? Even knowing that it is going?
What would you do?
I know what I'd do. I know what I do.
Thursday 6 January 2011
I try not to blog too late into the night, especially at times when I should definitely be asleep by. I have a habit of making unsustainable grandoise statements that serve only for future embarassment.
Bear with me, this is going to be a blog of deviant tangents.
It's weird how I think of how I have changed over the last few years, fueled mainly by my experiences at university.
It's actually pretty difficult for me to talk about what I was like before that. I don't know if it's a common experience for people, but before maybe the second and third years at university I wasn't very self aware.
Like I used to wear stupid clothes, and I had silly long hair that makes me cringe now and these days I try to come up with a rational explanation for it. But the actual truth of it was that at the time I just didn't care what people thought. Like I was shy and introverted, but I wasn't bothered if people thought something made me look fat or wasn't in fashion and I wasn't bothered if people thought I was boring or that I wasn't clever.
And as much as I try to say I still don't, I now do completely care. It may not look like it, or seem like it, but I always thinking about what people think of me.
In effect a lot of the time I'm trying to second guess people, or think about what I think people are going to think.
That definitely makes sense... in my head it makes sense. But then, it is late... I mentioned this earlier.
I worry about what people think. The reality, I am fairly sure, is that people aren't thinking very much, but I don't know if indifference is preferable. I don't think I should be happy with indifference.
I don't even know what the point I'm trying to make is.
I don't think there is a point.
Just another piece of nothing.
Goodnight.
Bear with me, this is going to be a blog of deviant tangents.
It's weird how I think of how I have changed over the last few years, fueled mainly by my experiences at university.
It's actually pretty difficult for me to talk about what I was like before that. I don't know if it's a common experience for people, but before maybe the second and third years at university I wasn't very self aware.
Like I used to wear stupid clothes, and I had silly long hair that makes me cringe now and these days I try to come up with a rational explanation for it. But the actual truth of it was that at the time I just didn't care what people thought. Like I was shy and introverted, but I wasn't bothered if people thought something made me look fat or wasn't in fashion and I wasn't bothered if people thought I was boring or that I wasn't clever.
And as much as I try to say I still don't, I now do completely care. It may not look like it, or seem like it, but I always thinking about what people think of me.
In effect a lot of the time I'm trying to second guess people, or think about what I think people are going to think.
That definitely makes sense... in my head it makes sense. But then, it is late... I mentioned this earlier.
I worry about what people think. The reality, I am fairly sure, is that people aren't thinking very much, but I don't know if indifference is preferable. I don't think I should be happy with indifference.
I don't even know what the point I'm trying to make is.
I don't think there is a point.
Just another piece of nothing.
Goodnight.
Tuesday 4 January 2011
Bookgun
Artist Robert The created this, and a number of other pieces with the same. I think this one is the best, and conveys a very powerful message.
Monday 3 January 2011
Resolutions.
See, about 5 months ago my list of resolutions would have been fairly simple:
1. Read more.
2. Play basketball more.
3. Get a job.
4. Drink less.
5. Eat less.
6. Listen to more (a greater variety) music.
But I've actually managed to achieve all of those things. 5 has been ruined a bit by Christmas, but it'll get back to normal soon enough. So, now I'm stuck with the task of thinking of new resolutions.
Right:
1. Stick to those 6 resolutions I mentioned above.
2. Finish my novel properly (you'll notice I have made a concerted effort not to do a Brian Griffin and constantly mention my novel)
3. Write and record something with my band.
That'll do for now, I have a wish list, but I don't think it's worth publishing, most of it is childish superficial desire.
1. Read more.
2. Play basketball more.
3. Get a job.
4. Drink less.
5. Eat less.
6. Listen to more (a greater variety) music.
But I've actually managed to achieve all of those things. 5 has been ruined a bit by Christmas, but it'll get back to normal soon enough. So, now I'm stuck with the task of thinking of new resolutions.
Right:
1. Stick to those 6 resolutions I mentioned above.
2. Finish my novel properly (you'll notice I have made a concerted effort not to do a Brian Griffin and constantly mention my novel)
3. Write and record something with my band.
That'll do for now, I have a wish list, but I don't think it's worth publishing, most of it is childish superficial desire.
Saturday 1 January 2011
2010.
So it's New Years Day. Welcome to 2011.
Nothing better, of course, than looking back at the past, to learn from our mistakes and what not. So, how was 2010 for me.
I think, all things considered, 2010 was a pretty good year for me.
Certainly there were moments, days perhaps, that made me as happy as I have ever been in my life. (By the way, there is a pretty brilliant short story on the subject of happiness by Michel Faber called "Vanilla Bright Like Eminem"). Equally, there have been some not so happy times, but in general, I think I'm past the volatile stage of self-hatred, I'll tell you about it sometime when I'm a bit braver.
I graduated with an upper second class honours degree.
I got a job, a proper job, that I enjoy doing.
I got a car.
My personal life has been confusing, to say the least. But not unrewarding.
The very end of the year has been a bit of a dampener on things, but we live on.
I have high hopes for 2011, although I feel somewhat pessimistic also.
Well... that was boring eh.
Nothing better, of course, than looking back at the past, to learn from our mistakes and what not. So, how was 2010 for me.
I think, all things considered, 2010 was a pretty good year for me.
Certainly there were moments, days perhaps, that made me as happy as I have ever been in my life. (By the way, there is a pretty brilliant short story on the subject of happiness by Michel Faber called "Vanilla Bright Like Eminem"). Equally, there have been some not so happy times, but in general, I think I'm past the volatile stage of self-hatred, I'll tell you about it sometime when I'm a bit braver.
I graduated with an upper second class honours degree.
I got a job, a proper job, that I enjoy doing.
I got a car.
My personal life has been confusing, to say the least. But not unrewarding.
The very end of the year has been a bit of a dampener on things, but we live on.
I have high hopes for 2011, although I feel somewhat pessimistic also.
Well... that was boring eh.
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