Friday, February 27, 2009
Short note
Feminism. A movement whereby, until males are an entirely subordinate gender, women will never be quite 'equal' enough. Where a large group of disproportionately ugly women portray female beauty as objectification, and where there is a distinct obsession with a so called 'glass ceiling!' a stupid term given that if it was literally applied, attractive young women would be openly encouraged to scale the ranks, given their propensity for wearing skirts.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Wheels on the Bus...
Good ol' public transport...It's easy to have a stab at bemoaning it. "They're always late, never on time, overcrowded, smelly, poorly maintained..." etc. etc. etc.
Let's cut to the fucking chase. I can deal with a train or bus being a few minutes lit...You know, I could even deal with major delays, of upwards of an hour. I don't mind that the vehicles themselves are often terribly maintained, as long as I can sit down of whatever squalid seat is available, and I really do not care if someone is playing music quite loud in front of me, as long as it doesn't sound like James Blunt.
What I hate about public transport, is the people. Not all of them. Some people are perfectly happy to sit and enjoy their journey in quiet comfort, ably chatting to their friends without raising their voices to decibel levels somewhat akin to those of a rock concert.
Does people using their mobile phones get on my nerves?....No...Does people using their mobile phones when they think that the level of volume in their voice is relative to the distance away the person they are talking to is? Yes! The whole purpose of a mobile is to allow portable communication wherever you are (as long as there's a signal but that's a different blog altogether) no matter what the distance...i.e. someone in Birmingham, Alabama can hear you just as well from your location as someone in Birmingham, UK. Therefore it is entirely unnecessary to project your voice down the phone in the manner of Brian fucking Blessed.
Worse than that though, are the people who think the opposite. The people to who, the closer the person with whom they wish to speak, the louder they believe they should be chatting. I must admit, this is predominantly aimed at teenage females, whose laughter cuts through me like a knife and whose purpose in life is somewhat debatable. All they seem to do, and I use these examples not in any sexist ironic way, but as examples I have truthfully overheard, all they seem to do, is discuss hair and nails....Seriously...Same girls on my train all they time, all they ever talk about. They occasionally discuss their hideous sexual conquests but that itself is usually tied into the "Oh yeah he fucked me coz he really liked my hair" thing...
I wish I was joking, I'm sadly not.
Now, I don't mean to be construed as anti-social. I am not, if I was sat with my friends I would chat quietly too them. But quietly is the optimum word here! It's school classroom syndrome. If you all chat quietly, no one really minds and you can get on with it. If one lot of you talks loudly, everyone else has to raise their voice and the volume creeps up until you get asked to work in silence. Unfortunately, remove the teacher from the equation and you get a diesel powered tin box with enough noise pollution and hot air to move the Earth from it's orbit.
But there are people worse than that still. And these people take what I do to the extreme. You see, these blogs are, as mentioned in the first post, about the trivial little things that piss me/us off. We like a good moan, and what better to moan about than the trivial, after all, everything is relative, and here in the west are lives are relatively much better than those of most people elsewhere in the world. By jovially complaining about the little things it actually reminds me that it could be much worse...
...There are some people however, who do not believe that is the case. You know the ones. Their problems are always much worse than yours, and if you've got a problem similar, theirs will always be worse anyway. I used to work in insurance and have a few textbook examples. The company I worked for specifically dealt with more mature clients (over 50s), in itself that meant there was some relatively friendly chat, but it also happens that most of the biggest, baddest bastards are in this category. I had a man telephone me, wanting to know why his renewal premium was so high on his motor insurance. I pointed out the fault claim (fault claim means that the costs could not be claimed from the other side, either because it was the motorists fault, or because the offending motorist was uninsured) he discussed this claim with me and said that it was because of a squirrel. Now, and here's the good bit, this person. Keep in mind this person has been allowed onto the roads, in a vehicle capable of causing death and destruction. This person claimed that the squirrel had hit him!
Not that he was travelling at an unnatural speed for his species, and as such should take responsibility for the destruction of nature occurring as a result...No, apparently squirrels, SUICIDE SQUIRRELS AT THAT! Are throwing themselves into the roads, in order to to deliberately put motorists insurance premiums up....Presumably these are all al quaeda trained suicide squirrels, whose efforts have led to the current economic collapse, since people are bankrupting themselves with their car insurance. That's the only reason I can think of for an animal, a shy, skittish and generally quite cautious animal, to jump into a moving car.
I had another example. The renewal process for a policy begins a month (i.e. 28 days) before the renewal date of that policy. If someone wishes to renew their car insurance 30 days prior, they'll have to wait two days, it's all automated, the customer service bods on the end of the phone can do nothing about it. But I had someone phone me once, cursing me, calling me all the names under the sun, because I could not renew his policy...Why was it so desperate?
Well it turns out the insurance on his FUCKING PORSCHE needing renewing immediately because they were GOING AWAY ON A SIX MONTH FUCKING HOLIDAY IN THE FUCKING CARIBBEAN!
There was me, sat in an office, clucking away insurance bullshit hour after hour after hour, I didn't have a holiday booked...I wasn't going away anywhere, and if I was it would be nowhere near six months long, and the location would more than likely be Beirut rather than the Caribbean, I was being paid peanuts to do a job that a computer could be programmed to do, and should be to put these poor call centre bastards out of their misery but I was the one who was being unreasonable...Oh was I really?...Not doing something I literally can't do in the first place, that you only need done because you're swanning off to one the sunniest, warmest, nicest, most beautiful locations in the world to enjoy half a year of sun, sea, sand and geriatric sex and I'm the bastard...I do sincerely hope that on that trip, that gentleman contracted some exotic parasitic pathogen. He probably wouldn't have though, because he fucking is one, and they all stick together.
This brings me back to the point of this blog. You see, there are bastards among all of us. I am myself a bit of a bastard, I can be rude and unpleasant, sometimes with reason, sometimes without. But I do remember that, relatively speaking, we have it quite comfortably. And so, when an announcement comes over the PA telling me we've been delayed on my train, I look up, shake my head a bit, and get back to reading my book. When I'm told there is a rail replacement service (a British phenomenon whereby, during emergency or planned engineering works on train lines, rail services are replaced with bus or coach services to your destinations) I climb aboard whatever rickety bone yard piece of crap they've dug up, slip myself into the uncomfortable seat and remember that some people in other countries have to travel like this daily...Which is why I get slightly pissed off when some grotesque fat-fuck of a lady is stood in front of my in the ticket line to complain about such things..."I've just come back from Barbados..." see above for my discussion on ungrateful shits who don't realise how lucky they are with their Caribbean holidays..."and we had better treatment there...You call that a rail replacement? I'm disabled, I've got a bad thigh" No, love, you've got two bad thighs, with fat fucking ankles and a face like a lobster being anally violated on a bed of broken glass, besides which if it was that bad you shouldn't have been flying, and you seem to be able to march about stomping your feet perfectly fine when you've got something to bitch about. "I don't call that customer service..." Well what do you call it? It's not customer disservice because they've tried to do something to help you...I mean, maybe, they could just put a personal train service on just for you, and send you hurtling down the tracks, which are being repaired for a reason, and that would make you happy...Or maybe, they should always have a chauffeur driven limousine on standby in case YOU happen to be fucking travelling that day...
These are the people that ruin public transport. They are never working class, or upper class. Working class people accept the shitness of public transport as an inevitability, and as such have contingency plans in place to combat it, or just deal with it. Upper class people are too stiff upper-lipped, they'll have a bitch and a moan and maybe eek some complimentary drinks and snacks out of people, but they'll never hold up a queue just to moan to someone who has no power over the situation about it. The middle classes too are usually accepting. They don't enjoy it, but they understand the necessity for caution in travel. After all a half hour delay, and finally arriving at your destination in a metal box is far better than arriving early in a wooden one. No, it is the upper middle classes who like to complain. Not the rich, not the comfortable and not the poor, but the reasonably well off. And it's always due to regression to the mean (i.e. the natural law that states that everything should be roughly around where it always is such as population densities of animals or, sales of cars at a car lot...There will be ups and downs but over time it will all regress towards the mean) Therefore, when these people have just come back from a holiday, they're going to have their straw hats and rose tinted sunglasses on and come from relative comfort and crashing back down to reality. Regression to the mean, if you have a good time, a shit one will follow and even if it's not that shit it will seem worse because you've just had a good time.
These are the people who make transport rubbish. Because these are usually the people in charge of it...They're the ones in charge of it, they're the ones who moan about it, they're the ones who want to make the trains run on time and in doing so take over network rail and neglect line maintenance, leading to derailing, crashes and deaths. Unfortunately they never travel at those times and it is usually always the happy-to-accept-it public who are the unfortunate victims of upper-middle-class stupidity.
So next time you're on a delayed bus, train, plane...or even stuck in traffic. Remember these things. 1) It could be much worse, some people live in conditions far more abominable than you and 2) If you see some can't-get-over-themselves wannabe snob bitching and moaning, punch them...hard and with conviction....really whack them like you mean it. If you don't they'll get ideas above their station and people will die.
Let's cut to the fucking chase. I can deal with a train or bus being a few minutes lit...You know, I could even deal with major delays, of upwards of an hour. I don't mind that the vehicles themselves are often terribly maintained, as long as I can sit down of whatever squalid seat is available, and I really do not care if someone is playing music quite loud in front of me, as long as it doesn't sound like James Blunt.
What I hate about public transport, is the people. Not all of them. Some people are perfectly happy to sit and enjoy their journey in quiet comfort, ably chatting to their friends without raising their voices to decibel levels somewhat akin to those of a rock concert.
Does people using their mobile phones get on my nerves?....No...Does people using their mobile phones when they think that the level of volume in their voice is relative to the distance away the person they are talking to is? Yes! The whole purpose of a mobile is to allow portable communication wherever you are (as long as there's a signal but that's a different blog altogether) no matter what the distance...i.e. someone in Birmingham, Alabama can hear you just as well from your location as someone in Birmingham, UK. Therefore it is entirely unnecessary to project your voice down the phone in the manner of Brian fucking Blessed.
Worse than that though, are the people who think the opposite. The people to who, the closer the person with whom they wish to speak, the louder they believe they should be chatting. I must admit, this is predominantly aimed at teenage females, whose laughter cuts through me like a knife and whose purpose in life is somewhat debatable. All they seem to do, and I use these examples not in any sexist ironic way, but as examples I have truthfully overheard, all they seem to do, is discuss hair and nails....Seriously...Same girls on my train all they time, all they ever talk about. They occasionally discuss their hideous sexual conquests but that itself is usually tied into the "Oh yeah he fucked me coz he really liked my hair" thing...
I wish I was joking, I'm sadly not.
Now, I don't mean to be construed as anti-social. I am not, if I was sat with my friends I would chat quietly too them. But quietly is the optimum word here! It's school classroom syndrome. If you all chat quietly, no one really minds and you can get on with it. If one lot of you talks loudly, everyone else has to raise their voice and the volume creeps up until you get asked to work in silence. Unfortunately, remove the teacher from the equation and you get a diesel powered tin box with enough noise pollution and hot air to move the Earth from it's orbit.
But there are people worse than that still. And these people take what I do to the extreme. You see, these blogs are, as mentioned in the first post, about the trivial little things that piss me/us off. We like a good moan, and what better to moan about than the trivial, after all, everything is relative, and here in the west are lives are relatively much better than those of most people elsewhere in the world. By jovially complaining about the little things it actually reminds me that it could be much worse...
...There are some people however, who do not believe that is the case. You know the ones. Their problems are always much worse than yours, and if you've got a problem similar, theirs will always be worse anyway. I used to work in insurance and have a few textbook examples. The company I worked for specifically dealt with more mature clients (over 50s), in itself that meant there was some relatively friendly chat, but it also happens that most of the biggest, baddest bastards are in this category. I had a man telephone me, wanting to know why his renewal premium was so high on his motor insurance. I pointed out the fault claim (fault claim means that the costs could not be claimed from the other side, either because it was the motorists fault, or because the offending motorist was uninsured) he discussed this claim with me and said that it was because of a squirrel. Now, and here's the good bit, this person. Keep in mind this person has been allowed onto the roads, in a vehicle capable of causing death and destruction. This person claimed that the squirrel had hit him!
Not that he was travelling at an unnatural speed for his species, and as such should take responsibility for the destruction of nature occurring as a result...No, apparently squirrels, SUICIDE SQUIRRELS AT THAT! Are throwing themselves into the roads, in order to to deliberately put motorists insurance premiums up....Presumably these are all al quaeda trained suicide squirrels, whose efforts have led to the current economic collapse, since people are bankrupting themselves with their car insurance. That's the only reason I can think of for an animal, a shy, skittish and generally quite cautious animal, to jump into a moving car.
I had another example. The renewal process for a policy begins a month (i.e. 28 days) before the renewal date of that policy. If someone wishes to renew their car insurance 30 days prior, they'll have to wait two days, it's all automated, the customer service bods on the end of the phone can do nothing about it. But I had someone phone me once, cursing me, calling me all the names under the sun, because I could not renew his policy...Why was it so desperate?
Well it turns out the insurance on his FUCKING PORSCHE needing renewing immediately because they were GOING AWAY ON A SIX MONTH FUCKING HOLIDAY IN THE FUCKING CARIBBEAN!
There was me, sat in an office, clucking away insurance bullshit hour after hour after hour, I didn't have a holiday booked...I wasn't going away anywhere, and if I was it would be nowhere near six months long, and the location would more than likely be Beirut rather than the Caribbean, I was being paid peanuts to do a job that a computer could be programmed to do, and should be to put these poor call centre bastards out of their misery but I was the one who was being unreasonable...Oh was I really?...Not doing something I literally can't do in the first place, that you only need done because you're swanning off to one the sunniest, warmest, nicest, most beautiful locations in the world to enjoy half a year of sun, sea, sand and geriatric sex and I'm the bastard...I do sincerely hope that on that trip, that gentleman contracted some exotic parasitic pathogen. He probably wouldn't have though, because he fucking is one, and they all stick together.
This brings me back to the point of this blog. You see, there are bastards among all of us. I am myself a bit of a bastard, I can be rude and unpleasant, sometimes with reason, sometimes without. But I do remember that, relatively speaking, we have it quite comfortably. And so, when an announcement comes over the PA telling me we've been delayed on my train, I look up, shake my head a bit, and get back to reading my book. When I'm told there is a rail replacement service (a British phenomenon whereby, during emergency or planned engineering works on train lines, rail services are replaced with bus or coach services to your destinations) I climb aboard whatever rickety bone yard piece of crap they've dug up, slip myself into the uncomfortable seat and remember that some people in other countries have to travel like this daily...Which is why I get slightly pissed off when some grotesque fat-fuck of a lady is stood in front of my in the ticket line to complain about such things..."I've just come back from Barbados..." see above for my discussion on ungrateful shits who don't realise how lucky they are with their Caribbean holidays..."and we had better treatment there...You call that a rail replacement? I'm disabled, I've got a bad thigh" No, love, you've got two bad thighs, with fat fucking ankles and a face like a lobster being anally violated on a bed of broken glass, besides which if it was that bad you shouldn't have been flying, and you seem to be able to march about stomping your feet perfectly fine when you've got something to bitch about. "I don't call that customer service..." Well what do you call it? It's not customer disservice because they've tried to do something to help you...I mean, maybe, they could just put a personal train service on just for you, and send you hurtling down the tracks, which are being repaired for a reason, and that would make you happy...Or maybe, they should always have a chauffeur driven limousine on standby in case YOU happen to be fucking travelling that day...
These are the people that ruin public transport. They are never working class, or upper class. Working class people accept the shitness of public transport as an inevitability, and as such have contingency plans in place to combat it, or just deal with it. Upper class people are too stiff upper-lipped, they'll have a bitch and a moan and maybe eek some complimentary drinks and snacks out of people, but they'll never hold up a queue just to moan to someone who has no power over the situation about it. The middle classes too are usually accepting. They don't enjoy it, but they understand the necessity for caution in travel. After all a half hour delay, and finally arriving at your destination in a metal box is far better than arriving early in a wooden one. No, it is the upper middle classes who like to complain. Not the rich, not the comfortable and not the poor, but the reasonably well off. And it's always due to regression to the mean (i.e. the natural law that states that everything should be roughly around where it always is such as population densities of animals or, sales of cars at a car lot...There will be ups and downs but over time it will all regress towards the mean) Therefore, when these people have just come back from a holiday, they're going to have their straw hats and rose tinted sunglasses on and come from relative comfort and crashing back down to reality. Regression to the mean, if you have a good time, a shit one will follow and even if it's not that shit it will seem worse because you've just had a good time.
These are the people who make transport rubbish. Because these are usually the people in charge of it...They're the ones in charge of it, they're the ones who moan about it, they're the ones who want to make the trains run on time and in doing so take over network rail and neglect line maintenance, leading to derailing, crashes and deaths. Unfortunately they never travel at those times and it is usually always the happy-to-accept-it public who are the unfortunate victims of upper-middle-class stupidity.
So next time you're on a delayed bus, train, plane...or even stuck in traffic. Remember these things. 1) It could be much worse, some people live in conditions far more abominable than you and 2) If you see some can't-get-over-themselves wannabe snob bitching and moaning, punch them...hard and with conviction....really whack them like you mean it. If you don't they'll get ideas above their station and people will die.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Milk...What the f*ck!?
So, a man, one day, in the very distant past, was prowling through a forest, when he sees a large bovine creature. He readies his posture, feels the wind, checks his stance, launches his spear and with that, the large bovine falls dead and all those pre-historic guys in loin cloths had a lovely steak.
After a while, these large, cumbersome bovines were getting annoying to kill, so they were caught and enclosed, they were kept and fattened up to provide available food that could be fattened to order, and of course their hides could be utilised for clothing or throw cushions or whatever.
Then a female had a calf...And it suckled...and some filthy fucking pervo thought "I've gotta get me some of that!" and we've been slaves the stuff since.
While there is no doubt it is an excellent source of calcium, so is a piece of raw calcium metal, but you wouldn't eat that would you? It is rich, and nutritious, yes, but there's no denying that when you spill it on something, it smells like a homeless for ages and when you drink too much of it cold it makes your gut feel, for want of a better, more legitimate word, ICKY. Let's not forget that horrible lactic aftertaste too, and the way it seems to coat your mouth with a thin slime layer or fats.
We take a lovely cup of freshly brewed black tea, with a bit of sugar for sweetness, all very acceptable...and then we drizzle a mixture of minerals and fats sucked by machine from a cows grubby nipple; and most sickening of all, we drink the stuff.
The reason I say this is because, after a long lay off without it (since the missus doesn't like it) I have recently indulged in a couple of sips of milk here and there...and while before I may have enjoyed it purely out of habit, now I feel rather like you do when you catch sight or whiff of that one tipple you always avoid...You know the one, it tasted different, and you had it at a party or do once, and you were stone dead drunk in seconds, vomited everywhere and vowed never to drink again...You never meant 'never drink again' you actually meant 'never drink that shite again'. In my dad's case it's amaretto, in my case ouzo, you smell it, and it makes you feel instantly sickeningly drunk just to catch a glimpse of it from across a supermarket. That is how milk makes me feel now. It's acidic lactic tang, the slimy mouth feel, and the smell all combine to make something that tastes as bad as it looks. I mean, you rarely dare drink a cloudy liquid and yet this one is thick with suspensions and yet we gulp it down with aplomb...
...Thoroughly disgusting thank you...I'll wait for it to go off and have me a yoghurt...I love yoghurt.
After a while, these large, cumbersome bovines were getting annoying to kill, so they were caught and enclosed, they were kept and fattened up to provide available food that could be fattened to order, and of course their hides could be utilised for clothing or throw cushions or whatever.
Then a female had a calf...And it suckled...and some filthy fucking pervo thought "I've gotta get me some of that!" and we've been slaves the stuff since.
While there is no doubt it is an excellent source of calcium, so is a piece of raw calcium metal, but you wouldn't eat that would you? It is rich, and nutritious, yes, but there's no denying that when you spill it on something, it smells like a homeless for ages and when you drink too much of it cold it makes your gut feel, for want of a better, more legitimate word, ICKY. Let's not forget that horrible lactic aftertaste too, and the way it seems to coat your mouth with a thin slime layer or fats.
We take a lovely cup of freshly brewed black tea, with a bit of sugar for sweetness, all very acceptable...and then we drizzle a mixture of minerals and fats sucked by machine from a cows grubby nipple; and most sickening of all, we drink the stuff.
The reason I say this is because, after a long lay off without it (since the missus doesn't like it) I have recently indulged in a couple of sips of milk here and there...and while before I may have enjoyed it purely out of habit, now I feel rather like you do when you catch sight or whiff of that one tipple you always avoid...You know the one, it tasted different, and you had it at a party or do once, and you were stone dead drunk in seconds, vomited everywhere and vowed never to drink again...You never meant 'never drink again' you actually meant 'never drink that shite again'. In my dad's case it's amaretto, in my case ouzo, you smell it, and it makes you feel instantly sickeningly drunk just to catch a glimpse of it from across a supermarket. That is how milk makes me feel now. It's acidic lactic tang, the slimy mouth feel, and the smell all combine to make something that tastes as bad as it looks. I mean, you rarely dare drink a cloudy liquid and yet this one is thick with suspensions and yet we gulp it down with aplomb...
...Thoroughly disgusting thank you...I'll wait for it to go off and have me a yoghurt...I love yoghurt.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
HAPPY LOVE DAY EVERYONE!
Picture the situation, you're a priest, and you fanny about marrying couples against the will of the Roman Emperor...as you do...and then all of a sudden some bastards kill you. That is the (abridged) story of St. Valentine as first told in the Nuremberg Chronicle in 1493. The fact that this story was described at least 1000 years after Valentine's canonisation, let alone his life, is of no bearing...What I want to know is, why did they kill him?
You see, most would say it was the whole 'encouraging the marriage of Christians' thing...No, no, no....You see I think it is possibly because people in the olde worlde bible days, had magical powers of premonition. They saw that in about 1,500 years time, people would be running around like headless chickens buying up everything cute, fluffy, red, chocolaty, boozy, cuddly, sparkly, spangly, dangly, lovey, dovey and generally tatty in order to profess some sort of love to someone who, lets face it, they're probably going to end up breaking up with anyway.
It defies logic.
Don't get me wrong, I am not bitter because I am single, I have a partner, we are engaged and are relatively happy together. I am not bitter at all...I am merely baffled by how shallow the whole thing is.
My girlfriend has recently been suffering a bout of chronic sciatic pain. It has meant that I have spent a great deal of time, and love, picking her up, putting her down, running her errands, doing the chores; with absolutely no contemplation of any reward to myself. And yet, if I were to not get her a Valentine's Day card, she would find it logical to feel in some way unloved...
...WHAT!?
How the hell does this love thing work? "Oh, yeah sacrifice your life for me all you want, but God-Damn it if I don't an overpriced piece of paper with a kitten on it, and something red and fluffy, so help me I will ditch your arse!"
"But what about the kids!?"
"SOD THE KIDS! I WANT WORTHLESS FLUFFY SHITE!"
To all those of you who are single, never, ever look at Valentine's Day as a depressing time. Just imagine the dent in your finances from having to purchase all that tat...And check out the prices two months before and I guarantee they at least double by February 14th.
The other problem I have is that it is all very sexist as well, isn't it? I mean, everything seems to be about men taking the initiative to buy things for women. While it could be argued that this is because women remember while men need reminding, this is also extremely sexist; there have been no scientific studies that show women have better memories than men, as far as I know, and when such supposed 'studies' do crop up, the evidence is generally misinterpreted, falsely correlated or even just plain corrupt. Therefore, why are there no posters up saying "CHICKS! MEN DIG BEERS!" whereas there are thousands essentially saying "MEN! CHICKS DIG BEARS!" At least Christmas gives a fair whack of attention to all, an over-consumerist religious festival is all vaguely acceptable (I won't be saying that at Christmas!), so long as it is not sexist, racist or prejudiced, but Valentine's Day so openly is that it should be arrested.
If a lady was approached by a grotesque blob of male; an overweight balding misogynist, who smacked her on her arse, put his face between her tits, went "brrbrbbrbrbrbr" into them and then said "Buy your man something nice!" he would be arrested for sexual assault. However, adverts all over the place are essentially doing the same thing to men, except with a far more psychologically sinister undertone. "Buying your lady some chocolates sir...Well, we do have a reasonable box for £6, but....You don't really love her unless you get these £50 chocolates, do you now!?"
"Yes, your lady may be a bit partial to a Chauvignon Blanc, but, does it have bubbles?...You see, if it doesn't have bubbles you won't get any sex, and she'll probably leave you for your best friend...I know Champagne taste like stale cats piss...but it doesn't matter...Oh and I forget to mention...WE CAN NOW MAKE IT PINK!"
This is why society seems to be having more divorces than weddings these days. People like breaking up more than they do getting together because when they're together businesses are constantly bombarding people with messages that essentially equate to "If you love him/her you'd buy it!"
It's a sorry state of affairs really.
The problem is though, that people get away with it because, contrary to what women all want to believe, men are actually the fairer sex. We may have testosterone, male bonding, and an inbuilt desire to witness or be part of violence. But that's just from our former (and in some cases current) role as protectors and fighters. But when a man makes an attachment to a woman he is utterly powerless. The story of Sampson and Delilah, whether true or not, is perfectly allegorical to how men behave; we give up all of our power. While there are some exceptions, the majority of families I know of are matriarchal. Even old fashioned relationships, where the men go out and work and the women look after the kids, if that woman wasn't there that man would be up a particular faecal creek without a propellant device. In terms of extra-marital affairs, it has been proven (in non biased, non gender supportive psychological studies) that women are more likely to have an affair just for fun, than men. Men tend to have affairs out of lack of confidence, low self esteem or a feeling of being hen-pecked and nagged. Men give the power to do that to women...If our mates gave us half as much shit as our girlfriends we'd batter them, but we go all doe eyed and sappy when it comes to our ladies and this is possibly man's greatest weakness, and the reason why Tosspot, Wanker and Prick Advertising Co. can get away with making us feel emasculated if we don't go overboard on our overdrafts at this time of year.
So advertising execs. swarthy bastards in their nice suits with their sports cars...Well I hope they crash those sports cars at incredibly high speeds because the emotional blackmailing of the general (but particularly male) population at this time of year is inexcusable. I never see a poster in a shop saying "Show her your love with an attentive evening, a nice home cooked meal, and some passionate love making..." instead all I see is "Buy her roses and diamonds and kittens and balloons and red shit and black shit and nipple tassels and chocolates and champagne and caviar and go to a restaurant and buy more champagne at the restaurant and eat lobster at the restaurant and then buy expensive sheets and more roses to pick off the petals and shower the bed with them and then have sex with her but buy these expensive sex toys because you're inadequate, sex wise, and make sure you get the premium model, it's all gotta be premium or she'll think you're a cheapskate, can't have that now can we big man...yeah, not such a big man now are ya...that's right, get your wallet out, show the world how you really show someone you love them..."
So, that's why St. Valentine was killed. Because he's a c*nt and they knew it...
...Now I'm just off to the shops to buy some roses, and chocolates, or I'll be in the doghouse later.
You see, most would say it was the whole 'encouraging the marriage of Christians' thing...No, no, no....You see I think it is possibly because people in the olde worlde bible days, had magical powers of premonition. They saw that in about 1,500 years time, people would be running around like headless chickens buying up everything cute, fluffy, red, chocolaty, boozy, cuddly, sparkly, spangly, dangly, lovey, dovey and generally tatty in order to profess some sort of love to someone who, lets face it, they're probably going to end up breaking up with anyway.
It defies logic.
Don't get me wrong, I am not bitter because I am single, I have a partner, we are engaged and are relatively happy together. I am not bitter at all...I am merely baffled by how shallow the whole thing is.
My girlfriend has recently been suffering a bout of chronic sciatic pain. It has meant that I have spent a great deal of time, and love, picking her up, putting her down, running her errands, doing the chores; with absolutely no contemplation of any reward to myself. And yet, if I were to not get her a Valentine's Day card, she would find it logical to feel in some way unloved...
...WHAT!?
How the hell does this love thing work? "Oh, yeah sacrifice your life for me all you want, but God-Damn it if I don't an overpriced piece of paper with a kitten on it, and something red and fluffy, so help me I will ditch your arse!"
"But what about the kids!?"
"SOD THE KIDS! I WANT WORTHLESS FLUFFY SHITE!"
To all those of you who are single, never, ever look at Valentine's Day as a depressing time. Just imagine the dent in your finances from having to purchase all that tat...And check out the prices two months before and I guarantee they at least double by February 14th.
The other problem I have is that it is all very sexist as well, isn't it? I mean, everything seems to be about men taking the initiative to buy things for women. While it could be argued that this is because women remember while men need reminding, this is also extremely sexist; there have been no scientific studies that show women have better memories than men, as far as I know, and when such supposed 'studies' do crop up, the evidence is generally misinterpreted, falsely correlated or even just plain corrupt. Therefore, why are there no posters up saying "CHICKS! MEN DIG BEERS!" whereas there are thousands essentially saying "MEN! CHICKS DIG BEARS!" At least Christmas gives a fair whack of attention to all, an over-consumerist religious festival is all vaguely acceptable (I won't be saying that at Christmas!), so long as it is not sexist, racist or prejudiced, but Valentine's Day so openly is that it should be arrested.
If a lady was approached by a grotesque blob of male; an overweight balding misogynist, who smacked her on her arse, put his face between her tits, went "brrbrbbrbrbrbr" into them and then said "Buy your man something nice!" he would be arrested for sexual assault. However, adverts all over the place are essentially doing the same thing to men, except with a far more psychologically sinister undertone. "Buying your lady some chocolates sir...Well, we do have a reasonable box for £6, but....You don't really love her unless you get these £50 chocolates, do you now!?"
"Yes, your lady may be a bit partial to a Chauvignon Blanc, but, does it have bubbles?...You see, if it doesn't have bubbles you won't get any sex, and she'll probably leave you for your best friend...I know Champagne taste like stale cats piss...but it doesn't matter...Oh and I forget to mention...WE CAN NOW MAKE IT PINK!"
This is why society seems to be having more divorces than weddings these days. People like breaking up more than they do getting together because when they're together businesses are constantly bombarding people with messages that essentially equate to "If you love him/her you'd buy it!"
It's a sorry state of affairs really.
The problem is though, that people get away with it because, contrary to what women all want to believe, men are actually the fairer sex. We may have testosterone, male bonding, and an inbuilt desire to witness or be part of violence. But that's just from our former (and in some cases current) role as protectors and fighters. But when a man makes an attachment to a woman he is utterly powerless. The story of Sampson and Delilah, whether true or not, is perfectly allegorical to how men behave; we give up all of our power. While there are some exceptions, the majority of families I know of are matriarchal. Even old fashioned relationships, where the men go out and work and the women look after the kids, if that woman wasn't there that man would be up a particular faecal creek without a propellant device. In terms of extra-marital affairs, it has been proven (in non biased, non gender supportive psychological studies) that women are more likely to have an affair just for fun, than men. Men tend to have affairs out of lack of confidence, low self esteem or a feeling of being hen-pecked and nagged. Men give the power to do that to women...If our mates gave us half as much shit as our girlfriends we'd batter them, but we go all doe eyed and sappy when it comes to our ladies and this is possibly man's greatest weakness, and the reason why Tosspot, Wanker and Prick Advertising Co. can get away with making us feel emasculated if we don't go overboard on our overdrafts at this time of year.
So advertising execs. swarthy bastards in their nice suits with their sports cars...Well I hope they crash those sports cars at incredibly high speeds because the emotional blackmailing of the general (but particularly male) population at this time of year is inexcusable. I never see a poster in a shop saying "Show her your love with an attentive evening, a nice home cooked meal, and some passionate love making..." instead all I see is "Buy her roses and diamonds and kittens and balloons and red shit and black shit and nipple tassels and chocolates and champagne and caviar and go to a restaurant and buy more champagne at the restaurant and eat lobster at the restaurant and then buy expensive sheets and more roses to pick off the petals and shower the bed with them and then have sex with her but buy these expensive sex toys because you're inadequate, sex wise, and make sure you get the premium model, it's all gotta be premium or she'll think you're a cheapskate, can't have that now can we big man...yeah, not such a big man now are ya...that's right, get your wallet out, show the world how you really show someone you love them..."
So, that's why St. Valentine was killed. Because he's a c*nt and they knew it...
...Now I'm just off to the shops to buy some roses, and chocolates, or I'll be in the doghouse later.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Communication Problems
Yang my fronger, jis tickley namma on the hilly snickle toggle.
Have any clue what that means?
No?
Good, me neither, which is why I wonder why people from specific walks of life always feel the need to convey messages to you in their own little dialect rather than using actual words that are common not just to a certain in-group, or profession, but to all people who technically speak the same language as they do.
When notorious 'bad man' Dave Courtney was up in court once (of many times), his language was, as we have to say these days 'inappropriate', the quick witted man in the dock however found it quite 'appropriate' in the light that lawyers use their own bullshit language in court so why shouldn't he? And it's a fair point well made. You will find that people of certain professions (e.g. doctors, lawyers, insurance bods) will always talk to you as if you're one of them, and then, when you've been singled out as not understanding a word of their gobbledygook, they'll make you feel marginalised, and stupid.
This possibly extends from a deeply in-built anthropological need to be within an in community or group...Unfortunately it is usually the case that it is a group of wankers.
What is possibly worse, is when those specific in-words become commonplace amongst the populace. Is there anything worse than your grandad rocking in his chair, sucking a werthers original and bemoaning how "sodding chavs" are ruining society and how they have spent the weekend "getting pics from Aunty Linda on MyFace or MyBook" and downloading them to their "EePod".
It isn't just pop culture where this happens, and this next example involves the slipperiest of slippery, slimy, swarthy thieving bastards of all time. Insurance people! A Premium, you see, is what you pay for a policy. Said policy will also have an excess.
Premium means more expensive.
Excess means too much.
Coincidence? Not on your life (which, incidentally I hope you've got insured, after all, how will your loved ones cope when an air-conditioning unit falls on your head, or a plant pot, or you get hit by a bus; because as we know, this is how the majority of people meet their demise, not through heart disease or cancer, no it is travelling obstacles that inevitably kill everyone! "Oh but, you never know!" they say...No, but I can do the maths, and that tells me that I would be better off buying a lottery ticket, because there's more chance of me winning than their is of me dying due to a falling air conditioning unit today! And anyway, if there is suddenly such an increase in people neglectfully dangling things out of multi-storey windows, why the hell is there no new legislation being passed to prevent this!? This is what happens when our lives are so comfortable as to effectively remove all notion of Darwinian 'survival of the fittest' theory...idiots are still hanging around blocks of flats casually draping objects outside of windows like Michael Jackson with a shrouded baby. )
I digress.
That these words become commonplace amongst our vocabulary is a testament to the evolutionary nature of language. But that still does not prevent some elite words being reserved for their specific groups. While this is understandable in some cases, e.g. the scientific community (after all, why do we need to know what deoxyribonucleic acid is when it's initials, DNA, are bandied about everywhere?) In others it is merely a way of a group clutching desperately at their own identity, whilst not wanting anyone else to be involved. A sort of playground "I know something you don't know!" situation, only twice as childish, since it is being performed by adults, not children.
Here is the thing though...We are all involved in this behaviour in some way. Whether it is pet names for your partner, or your own little language, or whether you are a lawyer and speak more Latin than a catholic priest, or whether you work in insurance, and deal purely in lies; we all do it! As such, does it give me any right to moan about it?
Yes, of course it does, because I want in with them, and they want in with me, we all want in with every other group in the world...so, in this spirit of all inclusion it makes you wonder...Why the hell are we always fighting each other?...
...It's because the insurance people won't tell us their secrets. Bastards.
Have any clue what that means?
No?
Good, me neither, which is why I wonder why people from specific walks of life always feel the need to convey messages to you in their own little dialect rather than using actual words that are common not just to a certain in-group, or profession, but to all people who technically speak the same language as they do.
When notorious 'bad man' Dave Courtney was up in court once (of many times), his language was, as we have to say these days 'inappropriate', the quick witted man in the dock however found it quite 'appropriate' in the light that lawyers use their own bullshit language in court so why shouldn't he? And it's a fair point well made. You will find that people of certain professions (e.g. doctors, lawyers, insurance bods) will always talk to you as if you're one of them, and then, when you've been singled out as not understanding a word of their gobbledygook, they'll make you feel marginalised, and stupid.
This possibly extends from a deeply in-built anthropological need to be within an in community or group...Unfortunately it is usually the case that it is a group of wankers.
What is possibly worse, is when those specific in-words become commonplace amongst the populace. Is there anything worse than your grandad rocking in his chair, sucking a werthers original and bemoaning how "sodding chavs" are ruining society and how they have spent the weekend "getting pics from Aunty Linda on MyFace or MyBook" and downloading them to their "EePod".
It isn't just pop culture where this happens, and this next example involves the slipperiest of slippery, slimy, swarthy thieving bastards of all time. Insurance people! A Premium, you see, is what you pay for a policy. Said policy will also have an excess.
Premium means more expensive.
Excess means too much.
Coincidence? Not on your life (which, incidentally I hope you've got insured, after all, how will your loved ones cope when an air-conditioning unit falls on your head, or a plant pot, or you get hit by a bus; because as we know, this is how the majority of people meet their demise, not through heart disease or cancer, no it is travelling obstacles that inevitably kill everyone! "Oh but, you never know!" they say...No, but I can do the maths, and that tells me that I would be better off buying a lottery ticket, because there's more chance of me winning than their is of me dying due to a falling air conditioning unit today! And anyway, if there is suddenly such an increase in people neglectfully dangling things out of multi-storey windows, why the hell is there no new legislation being passed to prevent this!? This is what happens when our lives are so comfortable as to effectively remove all notion of Darwinian 'survival of the fittest' theory...idiots are still hanging around blocks of flats casually draping objects outside of windows like Michael Jackson with a shrouded baby. )
I digress.
That these words become commonplace amongst our vocabulary is a testament to the evolutionary nature of language. But that still does not prevent some elite words being reserved for their specific groups. While this is understandable in some cases, e.g. the scientific community (after all, why do we need to know what deoxyribonucleic acid is when it's initials, DNA, are bandied about everywhere?) In others it is merely a way of a group clutching desperately at their own identity, whilst not wanting anyone else to be involved. A sort of playground "I know something you don't know!" situation, only twice as childish, since it is being performed by adults, not children.
Here is the thing though...We are all involved in this behaviour in some way. Whether it is pet names for your partner, or your own little language, or whether you are a lawyer and speak more Latin than a catholic priest, or whether you work in insurance, and deal purely in lies; we all do it! As such, does it give me any right to moan about it?
Yes, of course it does, because I want in with them, and they want in with me, we all want in with every other group in the world...so, in this spirit of all inclusion it makes you wonder...Why the hell are we always fighting each other?...
...It's because the insurance people won't tell us their secrets. Bastards.
INTRODUCING!
Hello and welcome!
I would say that this is my blog, except it isn't. You see, I am sick to death with those over-inflated self-important egos that frequent the Internet, constantly bemoaning their personal lives, complaining about how this, that and the other affects them. There are some blogs out there by people with genuine problems (terminal illnesses, terminally ill relatives etc. etc.) that make those petty "OMFG!!!! MY GF JUS BROKE UP WIV ME ON FACEBOOK!!!" blogs look microcosmic, in the same way that the universe makes a quark look microcosmic.
So what I aim to do with this blog is aim to hit an even smaller microcosm than the relatively quark like facebook break up. What I intend to deal with in this blog is why minicabs always smell sickly? Or why, when you are always in a hurry to get somewhere, do you always get stuck behind a slow moving couple?
I will try to convey these negative little niggles in as humourous a way as possible, if you find it funny I am honoured, if you don't then please, do not 'flame' me about it...merely don't bother reading. Quite frankly if you have to read every blog post just to tell me how shit and unfunny I am you are just a tad on the wanky side.
If you have never experienced a problem I discuss, maybe you are lucky. Or maybe you are positive enough for it not to be an event to you. However I am, unfortunately, graced with an irritable disposition. A slightly altered irritable disposition in that people could get up in my face and open scream insults at me and I wouldn't bat an eyelid, but I will openly stew with rage if I have to listen to an American girl on my train talking so enthusiastically about her magnificent collection of photographs of door knockers.
I would like to say that the aforementioned example of an irritant was a hyperbolic example...Sadly, it isn't. It's true.
So if you can't relate, maybe, just take notice of those little things...Got something stuck on the bottom of your shoe...It's not a big deal, right!? WRONG! It's a bloody nuisance! Someone just suddenly stopped in front of you as you walk down the street? It's ok, you'll just go around, yeah? NO!! You'll stop too, and huff, and then continue shaking your head in bemusement! If you understand welcome to our blog, if you don't then I'm pretty certain you find me an uptight tosser and are quite happy to know I am being irate out there, somewhere.
I'd like to say this is my blog, but it isn't. It is our blog. It is a collective of things you either notice and agree with me about, notice and disagree about, or just find hilarious that some idiots are wound up by these things. Whatever your opinion, I hope I can at least make you giggle.
I would say that this is my blog, except it isn't. You see, I am sick to death with those over-inflated self-important egos that frequent the Internet, constantly bemoaning their personal lives, complaining about how this, that and the other affects them. There are some blogs out there by people with genuine problems (terminal illnesses, terminally ill relatives etc. etc.) that make those petty "OMFG!!!! MY GF JUS BROKE UP WIV ME ON FACEBOOK!!!" blogs look microcosmic, in the same way that the universe makes a quark look microcosmic.
So what I aim to do with this blog is aim to hit an even smaller microcosm than the relatively quark like facebook break up. What I intend to deal with in this blog is why minicabs always smell sickly? Or why, when you are always in a hurry to get somewhere, do you always get stuck behind a slow moving couple?
I will try to convey these negative little niggles in as humourous a way as possible, if you find it funny I am honoured, if you don't then please, do not 'flame' me about it...merely don't bother reading. Quite frankly if you have to read every blog post just to tell me how shit and unfunny I am you are just a tad on the wanky side.
If you have never experienced a problem I discuss, maybe you are lucky. Or maybe you are positive enough for it not to be an event to you. However I am, unfortunately, graced with an irritable disposition. A slightly altered irritable disposition in that people could get up in my face and open scream insults at me and I wouldn't bat an eyelid, but I will openly stew with rage if I have to listen to an American girl on my train talking so enthusiastically about her magnificent collection of photographs of door knockers.
I would like to say that the aforementioned example of an irritant was a hyperbolic example...Sadly, it isn't. It's true.
So if you can't relate, maybe, just take notice of those little things...Got something stuck on the bottom of your shoe...It's not a big deal, right!? WRONG! It's a bloody nuisance! Someone just suddenly stopped in front of you as you walk down the street? It's ok, you'll just go around, yeah? NO!! You'll stop too, and huff, and then continue shaking your head in bemusement! If you understand welcome to our blog, if you don't then I'm pretty certain you find me an uptight tosser and are quite happy to know I am being irate out there, somewhere.
I'd like to say this is my blog, but it isn't. It is our blog. It is a collective of things you either notice and agree with me about, notice and disagree about, or just find hilarious that some idiots are wound up by these things. Whatever your opinion, I hope I can at least make you giggle.
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