• Thinking...

    Sorry, I have to write this, if you disagree with me and want to delete me, that's your freedom and your choice... if you actually manage to get to the end, congratulations.


    Sometimes I despair for the human race.

    If someone wants to speak a different language, let them. Is it your problem that they will find it hard to get assistance if they live in a country but don't know the native tongue? No, it's theirs. Does it harm you if two people stand in London or New York or Sydney and speak a different language to each other? No.

    If someone wants to praise a different God(s), let them. You think you follow the one true God(s)? Good for you, so do they. The only people who know for sure are the ones in the afterlife and they're not sharing.

    On the other hand, are you agnostic or atheist? There's no evidence YOU'RE right either, a lack of evidence means no evidence. One God, many Gods or NO God is equally unproven.

    As there is no evidence of a right belief or wrong belief, just what people believe in their heart, how arrogant are you if you think you can change someone's heart or tell them their heart is wrong without proof.

    Equally if someone wants to love this person, or that person, let them. Same sex, different sex, one partner, several partners, casual relationship or dedicated marriage, if it's not harming anyone (who doesn't want to be harmed *shrug*), go nuts.

    Will someone else's relationship affect you in any way? No. If, on the other hand, your objections are religion based, read back two paragraphs and again ponder the arrogance of trying to change someone's heart with no proof that you're right.

    If someone follows a different sport, listens to a different music or reads a different genre of books, let them. Differences don't weaken the world, it stops it from being bland and uninteresting.

    I don't want a world where we drudge around in the same clothes, thinking the same thing, eating the same food, following the same religion. Life is like food, its amazingness and deliciousness and excitement is down to a mix of ingredients that are as different as the people of the world.

    I don't want to eat mashed potatoes garnished with roast potatoes and a side of boiled potatoes.

    I want mashed potato with sausages filled with pork and herbs and chilli and salt, with a side of beans in tomato sauce. I want to let all the different tastes and textures to combine to create more than the sum of their parts.

    This world is not for you, or me, or them, but for everyone.

    The only rule that matters is do no harm, to someone's body or their mind.

    If someone harms you, fight back against that person, not their race, their religion, their nationality or their sex, but that one person.

    Because all religious, all races, all nationalities and all sexes share one inarguable fact. They contain morons.

    Morons who judge by appearance or sexuality.
    Morons who force their religion on you as the "only" religion.
    Morons who look at someone different and revert to the playground, you are different, you are not as good as me.

    Racists, sexists, ageists, homophobes... the world is full of morons and their backgrounds are varied and different.

    Every group has morons who will hurt people, for fun, for misplaced beliefs, for power...

    Let our common morons bring us together. Don't join the morons against someone different who's done you no harm, join that person in rolling your eyes and sharing a look that says "I know, moron, we both have them" then just let the moron be, because... well, they have the right to be a moron, that's the beauty of the world, up to the point they cause harm.

    If you are a moron, if you believe difference in look or sex or race makes you better than someone else, if you believe that certain religions or races or sexes can be categorised and generalised, if you think you deserve entitlements of any kind, be they financial benefits or luck or respect, but do nothing to EARN those entitlements... then yes, that's ok, carry on if you must.

    We will allow you to for as long as you don't harm anyone, because that's your right. You have the right to say or do what you like, but do remember you don't have the right to be listened to or taken seriously.

    Chances are, however, if you're a good and decent human being you have more in common with the good and decent people of another race, religion or nationality than you do with the morons of your own.

    So beat that clan mentality, don't think you have to agree with someone just because they have one superficial thing in common with you, all they'll do is drag you down to their level.

    Instead realise the world is varied, complicated and full of differences. That doesn't make it wrong or scary.

    It makes it awesome.

  • Holy Hail, Batman!

    Pfft, still haven't had photogenic snow...

    We did however have some mighty hail that woke me up overnight, and my motto is, if Life gives you Lemons... do a yellow themed still life...









    Three's a few more on my Flickr and on my Facebook Page, links on the right...

  • "In this world...

    ...nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."

    - Benjamin Franklin

    But here's the difference between the two. Even Death doesn't make you sit through automated telephone messages.

    I've been sent a little warning note I still haven't done my tax self assessment so, like a dutiful citizen I set up to do my annual reminder of how I'm broke and my life is a meaningless trudge of using up the Earth's natural resources until I become one.

    Only here's the thing, I have approximately 2.4 billion passwords and logins, at a conservative estimate...

    Could I remember which one was for this? Could I, my arse.

    First off it was my user ID, a random series of numbers with no bearing on anything else in my life, 12 digits as random as 12 rolled dice and just as memorable.

    But, BUT! I have been intelligent and organised, for once. When I got this account they sent me a card with the number on, laminated and everything. So, being clever I put it somewhere safe.

    No, wait, sorry, typo there. Being stupid, very VERY stupid I put it somewhere safe.

    Because here's the thing about the apocryphal "safe place". It's safe only in the way it will never be found again, basically anything put in "a safe place" is technically lost the moment you put it there, but... and this helps our brains, it's lost in a very ORGANISED way...

    So, I search, a lot. Nothing. I finally decide to check online and see what I could get a hold of, which brings me into a truly governmental Catch-22.

    I needed my user ID and my password. To get my ID I needed my password. To get a new password I needed, you guessed it, my User ID!


    Finally, light dawned! I discovered my USER ID! put it in, put in all my details to get a new password... "your details have not been recognised".


    So, with fear in my heart and phone in my hand I entered myself into the vagaries of the Tax Helpline...

    That then left me spending 5 minutes listening to all the things I didn't want to do that I could do online in a speech just slightly shorter than Far From The Madding Crowd... until finally I got through to a real person.

    The admittedly lovely lady takes all my details, and finally discovers I was using the wrong email because I'm an idiot.

    OK, lovely, wonderful.

    So now, filled with joy at having the right details I thanked the lady profusely and hung up, before sitting at my PC with enthusiasm and joie de vive ready to sort my taxes!

    "Your details have not been recognised."


    Nobody has felt this much blackness going to a phone... but then I see an actual Online Help number! A number for online help, found online, it must be better!

    Foolish Boy.

    This time was a totally different system with a much DIFFERENT automated message, one that definitely beat FFTMC and in fact rivalled Les Miserables in it's length, mundanity and general soporific effects.

    It gave me reams of information about what I could do online, if only I could get online, which I can't which is why I'm phoning THE ONLINE HELPDESK. It was extremely helpful to hear the web address I had just COME FROM 14 times in full.

    I did FINALLY reach a real life person again, although I truly wondered if, during my time in the automated system the world had simply come to a gentle end without me noticing and the automated robot lady was now ruling the planet.

    "If you are crumbling into radioactive dust you may be eligible for a tax break, just log on to..."

    Now this lovely lady was extremely helpful in telling me what I had wrong, which was absolutely nothing.

    The problem was the Tax website and the fact the warning messages on the system don't differentiate between;

    "Your details have not been recognised" and
    "You've been locked out because you were a forgetful fucker and tried too many wrong passwords"

    So I STILL haven't sorted my taxes, but I do have a wholly insecure and potentially dangerous piece of paper next to my computer with my Tax Service log in on... because frankly, what's the worst that can happen? A burglar will break in and do my tax return for me?

    If one does, not only is he welcome to them but I'll let him use my phone to ring the Tax Helpline and have a robotic lady tell him all about the tax breaks available for people keeping household items and money in circulation...

  • Sold one of these today!

    ...and it was BIG... Which was nice.


  • Bust 'Em Up

    I've been a gamer since... well, forever and I'm the cardboard cutout stereotype of gaming geek. Male, glasses, chunkier than I should be and socially inept comfortable in my own company... and sometimes games come along to really remind us all what the game companies are still aiming for, stereotype wise.

    Boys with a vibrating controller in their laps walking Lara Croft into a wall to hear her grunt and make the controller shake... (yes that happened, no it wasn't me).

    Now beat em ups have always been the home of big tough guys in all manner of outfits and petite women with magnificent mammaries barely hidden in skimpy costumes.

    From Chun-Li's knicker flashing helicopter kick and Cammy's thong leotard in Streetfighter to Dead or Alive, a game that marketed itself as the first video game in history to give a fully bouncing portrayal of it's female competitors bountiful bosoms... Beat Em Ups have been the home of women specially designed to stimulate and dominate the male geek crowd.

    But, in them all, I think the latest Mortal Kombat which I just got free from the Playstation Network might just have got some kind of award... So, sit back with me as I take you through the official entry requirements for the Mortal Kombat Tournament.

    1) The Puppy Power quotient.

    Just like Scrappy Doo, puppies mean power! In a direct scientific correlation the most powerful women are the ones that have the milk capacity of a medium sized tanker truck.

    Don't even bother entering if your airbags aren't enough to save a man from an untimely accident.


    2) Agility and Flexibility are key!

    Obviously the ability to move effortlessly around the battlefield is key, and, as any woman will tell you, when it comes to both ease of movement and comfort, nothing, and I mean NOTHING beats thigh high leather boots with stiletto heels.


    3) Protection, Protection, Protection.

    Obviously the correct choice of clothing is paramount.

    Firstly, make sure you use one of our designates suppliers of clothing. They are the only manufacturers to supply the sticky backed clothing that will be sure to continue to cover all necessary areas while allowing other, non specific areas to show.

    These include shorts that retain the crotch but are flexible in the buttock area...


    ...tops that have specially reinforced nippular areas that will never break...


    ...and of course, gravity defying leotards so self-respecting female ninjas can keep all lips covered at all times.


    Finally, in case of emergency, remember to carry bandages.


    4) Shave to Save.

    Don't give your opponent any hair to get a hold of, especially in your high cut protective leotard, nothing says "I'm a tough fighting chick" than displaying more bare pubic area than a Playboy photoshoot.


    5) Dare to be different...

    We don't care about your background or your species, we're totally and utterly tolerant of every woman who has bazooms like overinflated balloons.

    Dead? You just need a funky haircut and magical cups...


    Dental problem? Distract eyes away from your face...


    Four armed spawn from the Nether-realm? Our swimsuits are tailored for all body shapes that include Humongous hooters and with four arms you can give yourself a Brazilian down below and on your head at the same time!


    6) Strategic damage.

    Finally remember, there's nothing the audience like more than some strategically placed bloody handprints... because what's a fight to the death without a little mild spanking play?


    Follow all these rules and you're sure to be a one woman, two tits, 0.5 costume killing machine!

  • The Return Of The Geek

    Well, yesterday I promised a look at why I'm back, although really it needs to be a whole story, from my first blog to this one... If you're interested, settle in for a story, if you're not, keep tuned in, more interesting things will be incoming.

    I first started blogging a couple months after my Dad passed away, it was sudden, unexpected and as far out of the blue as can be imagined.

    I needed something, call it inspiration, a place to vent, a place to find a reason perhaps. For a long time I found it, this place gave me substance, from finding friends to feeling useful. It gave me a support network, a collective and a reason.

    As my previous career ended (badly) and my new one sort of stuttered into beginning I found myself here less and less. The malaise I felt over the induced euthanasia of a job I'd spent 8 and a half years chasing and the slowness in my new one starting took it's toll and I clammed up until finally, a little under two years ago I just bailed.

    If I'm honest I didn't think I would return, and yet here I am, and it's for much the same reasons I found myself here in the first place.

    I have cruised the last two years and have found myself completely bereft of creativity and purpose, having screwed up the majority of things that worked.

    So I'm back, I'm back to try and write again, something I truly enjoy doing, and in the hope I find more inspiration to be creative. Basically, just like day one I'm here to find substance to add to the empty framework.

    Will it fail? Will it succeed? Will I find my creative urges or slip back into limbo?

    I don't know, but lets hope we have fun finding out, eh?

  • 706 Days...

    ...that's rather a long time.

    I'm thinking I should run a duster around, maybe get some new furniture...

    Oh, and I think I'd best just gaffer tape up the fridge and dump it, when I opened the door there were things in there had created rudimentary bows and arrows...

    I'm back, to stay or not is to be decided but right now I think so. I will share more tomorrow I think in a New Year post that tries to explain why I have appeared again like Bobby Ewing from a shower cubicle.

  • And so the time has come... decide what to do with this place.

    Just had an email from Paypal telling me my pro subscription for here has failed because it's on an old credit card and to sort out different payment.

    Thing is, I'm not sure it's worth it, certainly not at the moment.

    As is fairly obvious from the dearth of posting lately I'm finding it hard to write stuff these days. To be honest I'm finding it hard to do ANYTHING these days, up to and including bothering to get vertical in the morning.

    So, three choices that I can see.

    1) Carry on regardless, put the payment on another credit card and hope I get the will back, however unlikely that seems.

    2) Cancel my pro subscription and leave this here, just in case.

    3) Archive everything, then slash and burn.

    At the moment I'm leaning towards number 2, I just have to remember how to cancel my pro subscription, I think I just email them.

    Think with everything I've got on here over the years I don't feel like trashing it, but then I can't justify paying for it either.

    Ah well, I'll decide at some point today so BCUK don't call me out as a bad boy for not paying... If it's option 1 or 2 I'll see you all when I next feel like writing (Happy Easter?), if it's option 3 I'll probably write something just in case anyone notices, don't want to join the list of those who just burnt and ran in the night.

  • The Burning Issue...

    Dear readers, a proviso to this post if you will... If you read the Daily Mail, look away now, this is a post that will make the xenophobe tell me to get back to where I came from (a small town hospital in Devon), the jingoist to call me unpatriotic and the BNP member to tell me I'm selling out.

    I don't care.

    This is my reply to the amount of things I've seen lately that go something like this...

    "That girl who burned a Koran has been arrested, but we don't see any of the poppy burners arrested do we?!"

    Final warning, if you read that and thought "Ha, yeah, exactly!" go check out something fluffy speaking ungrammatically, it's for your own good.

    Let me get my own feelings off the bat straight away, the poppy burners are morons doing something mind-numbingly stupid. Possibly a number of people will completely and utterly ignore that bit, certainly anyone who ignored my warnings and isn't now giggling over a tabby explaining "I haz a sad...", but at least I've put it in there for the rational people who's brains aren't so full of anger their ears sound like an old fashioned kettle going off.

    I thought I'd look at what seems to be the main points here one by one...

    Burning a poppy is equal to burning a Koran. No, it's not. There is absolutely no logical reason why the two are equal. No, shush, yes you at the back, I can see you muttering. Whatever you were going to say? Wrong.

    The burning of a poppy can be many things. An insult to soldiers alive and dead (more on their feelings later), an anti-war protest, a propaganda mission hoping to stir up hatred against an entire religion and create martyrs to boost extremist recruiting numbers in a George Bush free world that seems much more inclusive... (Hmm, wonder which this one was...)

    What it can't be is something as serious, as wide ranging and as plain insulting and abusive towards a huge chunk of the world as burning a Koran.

    Think about what you felt when you heard about it, especially your thoughts before the media had guided you in the direction they want.

    Two, maybe three million (I'm giving them half the population of Britain) felt anger, annoyance, a little bit of disgust? Perhaps a desire to punch one of them? The burning was so small and petty that a lot of people just felt apathy and mild irritation. After every November 11th I regularly find poppies strewn on the floor like litter by people who presumably cared enough to buy them then consign them to the elements to sit forlornly on the pavement, wilted and rained upon. Is that not a more ignominious end for a symbol? Why do we not take photos of these forgotten poppies and begin a campaign to stop them being flung away like this? The answer? It's not as exciting.

    On the other hand think about how Muslims will feel on seeing a Koran burnt... It is by far and away one of the most insulting, most abusive, most degrading things you can do. Barring Andrex creating loo roll with Muhammed on it we're pretty much at the peak of religious intolerance and hatred here.

    This is deep, this is personal, this goes down to not just a tradition and a symbol, this is their lives, their beliefs. This is the words of their God being defiled and destroyed.

    Imagine someone pissing up against the Western Wall or bitch-slapping the Pope. Imagine JK Rowling rewriting the bible to say Harry Potter was Jesus or a vandal cutting down the Bodhi Tree in Bodhgaya.

    It wouldn't matter who did it, there's no excuse of it being some 15 year old kid. Any of those actions would create a deep feeling of disgust, of physical sickness and pain, of anger hotter than we've ever felt and of alienation, of detachment from the place that it was done.

    We HAVE to make a stand and make some show of arresting this silly little girl because firstly it's right, and secondly we have to do what we can to make true, moderate Muslims, the Muslims that make up most of their faith, realise that we don't hold them accountable for the actions of the few.

    I think the most pertinent argument is this. The poppy burners, with the aid of the media ("Darling, the Daily Mail says we should be annoyed about Camembert and asparagus today..."), successfully angered the couple million people they were aiming at. This daft student successfully angered an ENTIRE RELIGION which has over 1.5 billion followers making up almost a quarter of the world's population, the vast majority of which aren't extremists. It's the difference between suggesting Indian scam phone centres are knobs (which they are) and suggesting a knobishness about the entire Indian nation...

    So basically this girl has taken the world's most annoying teenager title from Justin Beiber, quite an achievement.

    They should be arrested for the same thing. What for? They could be arrested for arson, true... but then anyone burning ANYTHING will count as that ("put the Lambert and Butler down ma'am, you're coming to the station..."). There's no way we can arrest them for spreading religious hatred or intolerance when the poppy isn't a religious symbol, it's a patriotic one.

    Under free speech they're allowed to bitch about the country (we do it enough) and are allowed to protest, it's actually a right. Nobody said we have to agree with the reasons and methods behind every protest, we just have to allow them (within legal reason... ie, don't burn a frickin religious book).

    The poppy burning here is akin to the Westboro Bastard Church in America, the "God Hates Fags" brigade. In both these scenarios I have heard from soldiers young and old who say they don't WANT these people stopped, that if they had it in their power they wouldn't arrest them and even pleading with people to leave them alone and not resort to violence.

    Why? Because it's what they fought for, nobody ever said our wars for freedom was only going to be the freedom we like, it's freedom for all within limits. We're going to get some bad apples, yeah, but we're just as free to bitch back as long as we don't take it to an extreme... such as something so stunningly dickish as burn a holy text.

    That's not protest, that's religious intolerance of the highest level.

    Soldiers also realise that if you defeat an enemy by lowering yourself to their level, you've both lost.

    Britain doesn't care about Britain anymore. Yes, it does. Which is why it might not be a good idea to give extremists (and possibly even moderate Muslims) a reason to want to kill us... no?

    By the way, the majority of these people don't mean Britain, they mean white, fifth generational Brits... the same as how the word "foreigner" in the mouth of a Daily Mail reader never includes the Swiss or the Aussies...

    We have to be as bad as them. Do you know who burnt poppies? Muslim extremists wanting to cause trouble because it looks good on recruitment posters.

    Therefore, congratulations to anyone who thinks burning a Koran is a good response, you've just been relegated to British Extremist (Your BNP membership card is in the post, welcome to institutionalised bigotry).

    Thankfully rather than send explosive packages on airlines we Brits are much more likely to send letters to our local newspaper signed off "Angry Patriot from Much-Moaning-On-The-Wold" so we should be safe to fly. The worst we can fear is some of the cabin crew treating us like crap and a baggage attendant rifling through to nick some underwear, so nothing out of the ordinary.

    I will finish this whole thing off with an ironic homage to Godwin's Law, an internet rule that I knew of already even before it was mentioned on QI and is particularly pertinent here as many of the people filling with rage at my post are likely to go with it.

    You know who liked burning books? Hitler.

  • Ice, Ice Baby...

    Ice, Ice Baby...

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    Ice, Ice Baby...

    Ice, Ice Baby...


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