Sometimes life throws up an opportunity that you would be insane to ignore like this one: a metric ton of German fruit bread for £5.00. The crazy fuckers are giving it away.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Dies stellt ein ausgezeichnetes Preis!
Sometimes life throws up an opportunity that you would be insane to ignore like this one: a metric ton of German fruit bread for £5.00. The crazy fuckers are giving it away.
Jesus noodles FTW
History has shown us that if a person really wants to believe enough in certain supernatural or unexplainable things they can condition themselves to do so through a process of repetition and self brainwashing. In effect you can lie to your own mind and this will be accepted after a certain amount of time. Now I have to be honest, one of the things that has always weirded me out is the sketchy image of Jesus that supposedly pops up now and again inside a cut tomato or as part of a cloud formation or on someones Marmite on toast or inside a broken dog biscuit. You know the one, the big fella with his long sandy hair and beard, dressed in the traditional robes of his usual depiction, sometimes in prayer and with a halo hovering above his head.
"What are these people on?" I used to think to myself, "Random images of all sorts can be found in the most unlikely of places if you spend enough time looking." But that was then, that was before I had my epiphany. I am no longer an unbeliever. Miracles CAN happen and I have the photographic evidence to prove it. If you look at the picture above at first glance it looks like an ordinary packet of noodles. Well look again my friend. If you concentrate on the centre you can just about make out the features of a bearded man (it took me a while to really see it so be patient). A bearded man that in my humble opinion could well be Jesus himself.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
TV rant, part one of at least three. A series spread over a number of nights.
I came home tonight, had a bit of a cuddle with my daughter while her Mam read her a story and was going to settle in and watch a film or maybe play this flight simulator I have but then decided against it.
The first thing I have actually done is to break out the Mr Muscle (the TV made me buy it) and clean my monitor as last night I was playing said flight simulator and discovered after about half an hour that the distant tank I had been trying to lock onto with my TV guided Maverick missiles was actually a speck of dirt but I suppose that is incidental in the grand scheme of things and not something that is going to encourage people to read this here blog.
Anyway the reason I watch films or boxsets or piss about on my computer is that I reached and breached my tolerance for watching scheduled television some years ago. I literally can't fucking stand it. The main channels, around prime time at least, have degenerated into such utter bollocks that I can't sit and watch for more than a few minutes without loudly and very vocally ripping the programs to pieces. This half baked dissection and sweary vitriol is not, as I am sure you can imagine, conducive to a happy and healthy night on the sofa for my other half and so I choose to spare her by going and doing something less boring instead.
It must just be me. Everybody else seems to get along with TV just fine don't they? Put the kids to bed, pour a glass of wine and then cuddle up watching Eastenders or The Bill, or "Strictly" (oh my how abbreviations like that make me want to commit murder. "Did you watch Strictly?" "Have you heard the new Robbie song?" "Did you see Enders?" feel free to fall on a kitchen knife from a great height all users of the above), it all seems so normal and it happens in most households up and down the country so why must it gall me so?
Let's take soap operas for a starter. Simply written, unforgivably scripted and poorly played out by up and coming actors who can't land a decent gig, shitty actors that are stagnating or established actors that have hit a rough patch on the way down. Designed, yes designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator as a sort of ongoing and dumbed down metaphor for your life that will be there in front of you at the same time and on the same channel for as long as you choose to give them ratings. The people out there that buy a magazine to keep up with plotlines or refer to the characters by name as if they know them or as if they are real need to piss off somewhere far away and have a concerned word with themselves. They could also stick two wet fingers in a plug socket as an alternative.
If you must allow Eastenders or it's ilk into your home then consider the following a damning indictment of your own guilt:
You have helped create the concept of a typecasted acting career unlike any other, the one I like to refer to as "The Adam Woodyatt". Once upon a time there was a "type" of "cast", that is to say that a person in a successful role that he or she played well may then be asked to recreate that role in a similar guise but for a different production. Archetypal hard men, the femme fatale, the comedic foil, some roles just suit some people very well but Ian Beale? The man Adam is actually typecast as the same fucking character in the same program. Forever. He is on the gravy train and he will now never get off. Alec Guinness died a bitter, bitter man because for all his stage and screen greatness, his range and acting prowess he will forever be remembered as Obi Wan Kenobi so imagine the torment you are putting this poor bastard through week in and week out.
It's just horrible, lazy, TV and it needs to be put out of it's misery. The next time someone remarks how amazing it is that these programs are filmed and broadcast within such a strict timeline please remind them of the fact they are written very quickly too and there is a very obvious reason for that which I won't patronise anyone by explaining.
Go on then I will, it's because there are monkeys and there are typewriters but none of the little cunt's have gone near to approaching Shakespeare as yet. Soap operas are the waste, the by-product of that particular experiment.
Reality TV is far worse. Take The X Factor. You are as a nation watching the hopes and dreams of very real people and then hoping upon hope that everything will go wrong for them and you can then somehow feel better about yourself. Go on, admit it. If you wanted to see some young girl that can sing fairly well get a record deal and then be forgotten about a year later you could simply just buy pop records. But you don't want that. You want five young girls or boys or five groups of young girls or boys or any mixture thereof to try really hard at something and go up against each other in order to see some of them cry and then fail. You want to pick your favourite little boy or girl and get right behind them like some crazed football hooligan, abandoning all reason and logic while a pantomime panel of fucking idiots and botox filled industry "experts" chews them up and then spits them out while taking all their money from them and then when the series ends you can forget about it all until next year.
You want to perpetuate the myth that someone appearing on television has somehow "made it", that coming up through the ranks in the traditional manner of writing and gigging, playing the pubs and clubs, being spotted by a talent scout and him/her passing your demo to an A+R can be condensed into some shitty, low rent, zero production value TV program that takes millions in phone vote revenue (even when those lines are closed) and lines the pockets of it's self absorbed, soul sucking, role playing contributors. Congratulations, you paid to kill the music industry while at the same time making it's murderers rich beyond belief.
To be continued...
The first thing I have actually done is to break out the Mr Muscle (the TV made me buy it) and clean my monitor as last night I was playing said flight simulator and discovered after about half an hour that the distant tank I had been trying to lock onto with my TV guided Maverick missiles was actually a speck of dirt but I suppose that is incidental in the grand scheme of things and not something that is going to encourage people to read this here blog.
Anyway the reason I watch films or boxsets or piss about on my computer is that I reached and breached my tolerance for watching scheduled television some years ago. I literally can't fucking stand it. The main channels, around prime time at least, have degenerated into such utter bollocks that I can't sit and watch for more than a few minutes without loudly and very vocally ripping the programs to pieces. This half baked dissection and sweary vitriol is not, as I am sure you can imagine, conducive to a happy and healthy night on the sofa for my other half and so I choose to spare her by going and doing something less boring instead.
It must just be me. Everybody else seems to get along with TV just fine don't they? Put the kids to bed, pour a glass of wine and then cuddle up watching Eastenders or The Bill, or "Strictly" (oh my how abbreviations like that make me want to commit murder. "Did you watch Strictly?" "Have you heard the new Robbie song?" "Did you see Enders?" feel free to fall on a kitchen knife from a great height all users of the above), it all seems so normal and it happens in most households up and down the country so why must it gall me so?
Let's take soap operas for a starter. Simply written, unforgivably scripted and poorly played out by up and coming actors who can't land a decent gig, shitty actors that are stagnating or established actors that have hit a rough patch on the way down. Designed, yes designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator as a sort of ongoing and dumbed down metaphor for your life that will be there in front of you at the same time and on the same channel for as long as you choose to give them ratings. The people out there that buy a magazine to keep up with plotlines or refer to the characters by name as if they know them or as if they are real need to piss off somewhere far away and have a concerned word with themselves. They could also stick two wet fingers in a plug socket as an alternative.
If you must allow Eastenders or it's ilk into your home then consider the following a damning indictment of your own guilt:
You have helped create the concept of a typecasted acting career unlike any other, the one I like to refer to as "The Adam Woodyatt". Once upon a time there was a "type" of "cast", that is to say that a person in a successful role that he or she played well may then be asked to recreate that role in a similar guise but for a different production. Archetypal hard men, the femme fatale, the comedic foil, some roles just suit some people very well but Ian Beale? The man Adam is actually typecast as the same fucking character in the same program. Forever. He is on the gravy train and he will now never get off. Alec Guinness died a bitter, bitter man because for all his stage and screen greatness, his range and acting prowess he will forever be remembered as Obi Wan Kenobi so imagine the torment you are putting this poor bastard through week in and week out.
It's just horrible, lazy, TV and it needs to be put out of it's misery. The next time someone remarks how amazing it is that these programs are filmed and broadcast within such a strict timeline please remind them of the fact they are written very quickly too and there is a very obvious reason for that which I won't patronise anyone by explaining.
Go on then I will, it's because there are monkeys and there are typewriters but none of the little cunt's have gone near to approaching Shakespeare as yet. Soap operas are the waste, the by-product of that particular experiment.
Reality TV is far worse. Take The X Factor. You are as a nation watching the hopes and dreams of very real people and then hoping upon hope that everything will go wrong for them and you can then somehow feel better about yourself. Go on, admit it. If you wanted to see some young girl that can sing fairly well get a record deal and then be forgotten about a year later you could simply just buy pop records. But you don't want that. You want five young girls or boys or five groups of young girls or boys or any mixture thereof to try really hard at something and go up against each other in order to see some of them cry and then fail. You want to pick your favourite little boy or girl and get right behind them like some crazed football hooligan, abandoning all reason and logic while a pantomime panel of fucking idiots and botox filled industry "experts" chews them up and then spits them out while taking all their money from them and then when the series ends you can forget about it all until next year.
You want to perpetuate the myth that someone appearing on television has somehow "made it", that coming up through the ranks in the traditional manner of writing and gigging, playing the pubs and clubs, being spotted by a talent scout and him/her passing your demo to an A+R can be condensed into some shitty, low rent, zero production value TV program that takes millions in phone vote revenue (even when those lines are closed) and lines the pockets of it's self absorbed, soul sucking, role playing contributors. Congratulations, you paid to kill the music industry while at the same time making it's murderers rich beyond belief.
To be continued...
Monday, 9 November 2009
Wot r we doin to arselves?
I have briefly touched upon this before but the horrible takeover of the human language that is "textspeak" has in recent weeks begun to get right on my tits. The other day I passed a billboard advertising the chocolate foodstuff that is "Kitkat Chunky". The sole content of the advertisement was a picture of said product and underneath it was the legend "OMG, MY CHUNKY JUST GOT FUNKY :-)".
Now I am not for one moment suggesting that some ad agency mong on far too much money pitched it in this way (well OK I totally am) but it seems fairly obvious that the decision to go ahead with this campaign rested on the following logic:
"Everyone these days communicates via some horribly truncated and emoticon riddled SMS language, not just the young people or the stupid or those that can't spell, everyone. We are appealing to them all with this simple advert, dumbing it down for the Proles and the kids but the normals won't take offence either." Well I fucking well do ladies and gentlemen. I very much do.
There are a number of different theory's in my own head how this has been allowed to happen and not being the most educated man on Gods green earth I can only suppose which one is the truth. My gut instinct would tell me that with the advent of mobile phones that were SMS enabled came people that owned them for reasons of status and the prohibitive cost and limited character usage meant that it occurred to these people to shorten the language they used in order to be frugal. Later when cost was no longer an issue but the character constraints remained the same people still wanted the most bang for their buck and so the shortening of words and omission of vowels etc continued.
Now the point is not that I have a problem with abbreviation per say, it's the fact this has carried over into everyday usage that gets to me. Reading the average internet post these days is like trying to decipher some kind of Enigma machine transmission and let me tell you right now that I am no Alan Turing (sexual preference and long distance running skills aside obviously). I honestly spend more time trying to work out what is being said than the person writing for the sake of brevity spent composing it so for those of us not fluent surely this renders the entire operation redundant? Lest we forget, the internet, in terms of price per letter at least, is charged at a flat rate. There are no excuses when you have a keyboard at your fingertips and your broadband is paid up for the month.
Facebook, always an easy to aim for target especially when you are as lazy and/or drunk as I am, is a prime example; grown ups having tit for tat, back and forth discussions concerning how much cock they like or how bored they may be when the school holidays descend and the kids are at home or when they find some puerile internet video amusing (don't get me started on Youtube, I have an entire night put aside for a rant about that shit) have become a struggle for me to interpret. Fuck me it's torture. Let's take a little stroll down idiot lane and have a more in depth look:
yu
wot
guna
uv
ure
gota
dun
And my personal favourite:
Ov
The kicker is that when the majority of these "words" are used it's with the omission of just one letter and in a few cases no abbreviation is used at all. "ov" is composed of the same amount of letters and takes exactly the same amount of time to type as "of" yet it seems that in it's original form it just wasn't good enough to stay as it was for fear of rocking the textspeak boat.
Why not just do it right to begin with? What do you stand to lose by typing every word that you learned at school and probably still know how to spell properly, properly?
Some cunt I encountered in a pub a while ago when presented with a friends funny comment actually responded with a "LOL" out loud. Now that might seem to you to be a mistake on my part but he did say it. Out of his stupid mouth and very much out loud the word "LOL" came as spelt. He said "LOL" and nobody in his immediate presence batted an eyelid.
Personally my grammar is less than perfect, punctuation escapes me at times and my spelling does need help on occasion and that's fine. I would never for instance take the piss out of dyslexia or it's sufferers. Bad spelling is cool with me as are genuine mistakes but to be clear and honest if you go out of your way to converse in this manner when you could easily do otherwise you are an imbecile and a contributor to your present/future children's downfall.
Orwell's fictionalised version of the future in 1984 was based on the premise that if you limit language and the peoples ability to learn and convey it then you can also throttle their thought processes. Language and conversation first and foremost are concepts based on learning and thought.
Please please don't make the above a reality because of your lazyness when you already have the basic tools of your education on hand to prevent it .
LOL.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
It ain't safe no more
This little gangsta is here to pass on a message: I have a phone with decent internet and usable camera at last and so will be taking pictures of various objects and then commenting on them in a sarcastic manner as in the past. After this pic was taken he sidled up to me, raised his mask and whispered in my ear "Don't say my car's topless, say its titties is out" to which, frankly, I had no comeback.
It is with great regret....
....that I have an announcement to make.
I have closed this blog down at the request of the good folk at blogger and if you are reading this then you are far in the future and have recovered the data from their servers. Wow. What's it like in the future guys? Do cars fly? Does every house have a massive awkward robot fridge that brings you chilled food and drinks on demand? Does all fashion now consist of Silver hot pants and see through plastic visors? It must be great.
Anyway the point is it all just got too big. So much traffic was flowing through here that the google ad revenue alone was enough to enable me to buy new shoes and blogger had to lay on more and more bandwidth just to cope with daily visits. Eventually internet notoriety gave way to outright celebrity and so many awesome people came to read that they (blogger) had to buy a new server room just to keep up.
It was a mad time. Punks, skins and rastas. People of all colours, shapes and smells coming together, united by their common interest in the rhetorical rantings of a sweary idiot. Imagine a lot less gay and slightly better looking Perez Hilton then take that thought and imagine me saying that the person you are thinking of was me. That was me. Me.
The adoration and attention was something I was not used to, digital stalkers sending me pictures of their genitals, marriage proposals. And the begging letters? Fuck me they were harsh. I stopped even opening them after a bit.
Anyway I broke the internets and started a new religion without even trying and so The Man shut me down. It's incredible that so many thousands could be deprived of their monthly read so cruelly and so easily but in the end you can't fight the system and win. It was politics and I was getting too much influence and now I am just a nobody again.
Seriously though, to the few that do, thanks for reading x
I have closed this blog down at the request of the good folk at blogger and if you are reading this then you are far in the future and have recovered the data from their servers. Wow. What's it like in the future guys? Do cars fly? Does every house have a massive awkward robot fridge that brings you chilled food and drinks on demand? Does all fashion now consist of Silver hot pants and see through plastic visors? It must be great.
Anyway the point is it all just got too big. So much traffic was flowing through here that the google ad revenue alone was enough to enable me to buy new shoes and blogger had to lay on more and more bandwidth just to cope with daily visits. Eventually internet notoriety gave way to outright celebrity and so many awesome people came to read that they (blogger) had to buy a new server room just to keep up.
It was a mad time. Punks, skins and rastas. People of all colours, shapes and smells coming together, united by their common interest in the rhetorical rantings of a sweary idiot. Imagine a lot less gay and slightly better looking Perez Hilton then take that thought and imagine me saying that the person you are thinking of was me. That was me. Me.
The adoration and attention was something I was not used to, digital stalkers sending me pictures of their genitals, marriage proposals. And the begging letters? Fuck me they were harsh. I stopped even opening them after a bit.
Anyway I broke the internets and started a new religion without even trying and so The Man shut me down. It's incredible that so many thousands could be deprived of their monthly read so cruelly and so easily but in the end you can't fight the system and win. It was politics and I was getting too much influence and now I am just a nobody again.
Seriously though, to the few that do, thanks for reading x
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