Controlled Corruption

A few weeks ago, I was watching channel 4’s oddly compelling medical version of the X-factor, where the patients (they are contestants really!!) are all trying to outdo each other with the most embarrassing medical complaints just to get their sweaty butt cheeks on telly?  ‘Look mum, the inside of my anal canal is on national TV’…. I do like watching it but not when I’m eating a slightly dodgy looking Chinese takeaway.  But one of the comments raised in this car crash TV show sent the hamster inside my skull spinning round on his little wheel at a colossal speed, I had a thought and it was a scary one! It was a vision of the future and it was not bright (or orange)….

The beginnings of my apparition stem from the obviously somber future evils (global warming for example, which I consider to be a load of bollocks btw) that ‘top scientists’ pretend to be finding the solution too. Science has clearly produced many amazing developments over the past century (lets skip over Meth amphetamine for time being…) that have not only prolonged our life expectancy, but also vastly enhanced the quality of life that we, as inhabitants of this developed country, experience. Not only can we mere mortals now be told the name of our infliction, but we can also learn, in great detail, how our life threatening and debilitating syndrome will slowly kill us. If only they could actually cure the bloody thing! But instead concentrating the task of prevention and cures, the powers that be dangle carrots wrapped in dollar bills in front of the scientists and surely enough corruption soon follows.

These powerful medical laboratories plough huge resources into producing (and getting paid for) massive stocks of immunizations for diseases that are invented by the government and publicized by the media. This creates public hysteria and therefore demand for the aforementioned immunizations materializes!  Bird Flu is a prime example of this problem; the media and W.H.O. (World Health Organization) worked very hard to create widespread hysteria from phony figures that Tamiflu (the ‘vaccine’) was stockpiled; allowing Tamiflu to turn over around $1 billion dollars.  The stock market responded kindly to the increased turnover, lining the pockets of the American defense secretary to the tune of around $25 million. African AIDS was the most likely the result of the smallpox eradication vaccine program conducted by the W.H.O. during the 1970’s, and look how much money medical science rakes in now from AIDS treatments (well.. you can’t really look as I didn’t state any figures but you know what mean!!)? And Ok, this can’t and probably never will be proven either way but my distrusting nature tends to lean towards the conspiracists with a sympathetic ear. There clearly is corruption somewhere in the ranks….

Another (apparent) problem that can be addressed within the governments (possible..) medical money spinner is the sheer number of peeps that inhabit our slowly dying earth, it is a big problem for them! We all need feeding and clothing and have opinions that we demand to be heard!! The Chinese leaders have had a crack at solving this and claim to have prevented 750 million births since its introduction in 1978 by introducing strict birthing policies. But within that mass of unborn intelligence, who knows what talent has been bypassed, we could have missed our chance to meet the next Einstein or Gascoigne. So Please China, keep your head buried deep in that sand box. Honestly, the social problems and gender imbalance within your empire created from your God complex must be considered to be ‘worth it’ in the long run…..

So what was my scary vision (and I’m not talking about my immanent bankruptcy if the money grabbing ex-trouble and strife has her wicked and emotionally blackmailing way), how do I foresee next act of god from our corrupt and downright thick as fuk world leaders?  I think that we will need to apply for a ‘license to reproduce’, for each and every possible child that every couple in the developed world wish to try and create.   Only those not suffering from any of the known diseases and syndromes will be allowed to apply for a certificate stating that they are allowed to one produce an offspring, and each subsequent sibling will have to be applied and argued for, no doubt with a limit of the total number of children allowed by family. But how can we be classified medically suitable to reproduce when the manufactured illnesses are biding their time, waiting to infected us and remove our chances of ever legally conceiving a child – and thus controlling the population numbers, whilst creating profit from the illness’s.

It’s a scary thought, as it will be start of the secretly controlled civilization with anyone classified as anything other than medically perfect being cast aside without procreating a successor to their personal throne. I’m not off the doctors anymore, nor am I getting the bloody flu jab this year….

To Fall in Love....

Forward: A practical view of love…

The whole concept of love is such a misty grey subject tainted with the silent cries for attention from the lonely and broken hearted, and repeatedly stereotyped by the masses as a feeling that we should all strive to seek out and grip onto at all costs. Is it considered a failure to pass over this feeling, whether through choice or misfortune. We have developed this ‘ability’ to fall in love; but the success of an individual’s existence should not be measured by their ability to find the special someone.  Love is not, and should not be treated as the Holy Grail, it is not necessary to spend years and a small fortune on dating sites and Lynx’s products. It is fine to be single……    

Love is simply an emotion that, in the right situation, can fill you’re every waking thought with warmth and comfort, whilst providing the proud title-holder of the emotion with a sense of direction and achievement. But it can also create an invisible boundary’s and walls, subjecting the prisoner to heinous acts of emotional cruelty which go unnoticed by outsiders.  My own personal experience with cupid has cast aside the rose tinted specs that once sat proudly on the bridge of my nose. My perception of an evil shape shifter (the ex obviously!) caused emotional damage to such a depth that I suffer night terrors and flashbacks to this day.  Love is not, and should not be the feeling of abandonment (in an ambulance with a flashing blue light I might add) nor is it feeling abused or bullied within your own castle. By allowing myself to be suckered into the lion’s den and beaten within an inch of conscious life, my escape has afforded me the priceless ability to see inner beauty within the people that I meet. The Holy Grail is sat on my fire place; my search never began but is over already.

One thing that must not be confused with ‘love’ is the debilitating emotional handicap of infatuation. This parasite worm’s its way inside your system like a computer virus until every inch of your body is filled with nothing but this person. Normal service is well and truly gone; your body simply becomes a stalking machine functioning only for one purpose. It’s an impossible vicious circle that only a back alley fumble with a hooker of epically trashy proportions can break. Let’s be honest here, the poor victim of your infatuation is hardly likely to be attracted your behavior – ‘‘Please stalk me some more, I enjoy having some weirdo watching my every move. It makes me feel so relaxed and comfortable in your presence’’! Its potential social suicide that a simple ‘who’s your best friend app’ on Facebook can highlight to the world, It’s not normal to check a person’s profile 20 times in an hour nor is it healthy to refuse help or admit your issue.

To be heartbroken is emotion that we will all suffer at one point in our measly lives but I promise that you’ll come through a stronger person for it. The stifling vice around your arteries and noose that you’re hanging from will eventually loosen, and that sweet smell of happiness will return when you least expect it.  The broken heart can be mended, patched up and sent on its way again, ready to embrace life and all that it has to offer.

One thing I think we can all agree on is that sometimes we have to let go, whether it’s a long distance relationship that hurts too much or an infatuation that can only lead to prison time; If you love somebody let them go. More importantly though, please remove the rose tinted glasses and realize this: Nothing is forever!!! I do not doubt the strength of your feelings at the moment, but things can change in the blink of an eye and the consequences can be devastating if you’re not emotionally prepared. The foundations of any love are inherently unstable and subject to hidden dangers (travelling, stress, that night out when things went a bit wrong …) so enjoy the time that you have together and make it count, and don’t ever go to bed angry! This delicate sensation that we describe as life should be cherished as a blessing and embraced because you’ll never get a second chance to relive your regrets.

Oh.. and you know that person your currently stalking? Leave them alone because you’ll only be disappointed….

A pig of a Problem

Forward: This is a brief insight into the struggle between what is considered natural and modern food sources

..the entrance to the devils arse

Amongst the many varied attributes that us Humans are blessed with, one of our most important (I believe anyway) is the conscious mind; which affords us with the necessary tools that have helped shape and create the world that we inhabit today (for the purposes of this point please ignore all the huge failures, global warming, famine, nuclear weapons, socialism etc that have also been created!) It also provides most of us with the ability to make up our own minds and develop opinions that can, and usually are different to others. Now Let me repeat that because it’s very important… different to others, e.g. my opinion is different to yours and I am big and stupid enough to change it without your help!! Unfortunately opinions are like hairy arseholes, everyone has them but some of them stink. He who speaks loudest is not necessarily correct; in fact it’s the narrow minded opinionated bigots that have infuriated me into writing this passage. 

Whilst attending yet another wedding ceremony (crazy fools!) on Saturday, the promise of a crispy hog roast for supper sparked a few words that I couldn’t get out of my head; ‘an animal had to die for a couple’s whimsical fancy’. A simple tick of a pen or the entering of a PIN number into a credit card machine and that animal was a goner. Now just to get this clear, I’m not a vegetarian, not by any means... I love meat. In fact BBQ’s are without doubt my favorite form of celebratory food, given the opportunity (not to mention the cash needed to fund it) I would relish the Atkins diet, burgers for breakfast are the best!  But for some alien reason I couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty for the act of slaughter that the happily married couple (I’ll give them 2 years ‘till the realization of what they’ve done kicks in…) deemed necessary to celebrate their union (once it had been pointed out to me).

N.B. lots of brackets have been used in the making of the above paragraph which can only be attributed to my hatred of the comma.

Roll back the clock a few centuries and the story and opinions are very different (I’m not delving into the subject of evolution here, that’s for another day….), red meat was an essential part of their diet providing energy and fat to allow early humans to survive through the tough winters. I don’t think the mud huts were central heated so they adapted and used the food sources available i.e. animals.  But now, in 2011, 4000 calories a day is simply not necessary for us to go about our every day activities. I don’t need to physically hunt down and spear a multi legged animal to provide sustenance for my family; Asda do that for a bum-slapping low price (and deliver it to my door). So why do certain opinionated people feel it necessary to mock, sorry wrong word, try and convince those who choose to follow a different diet that our digestive systems (but there’s never a mention to the potential heart disease) will be so much better off eating their way, at every given opportunity?

New food sources and techniques have been developed to allow a very healthy alternative diet without the need for animal blood; and to be honest you don’t meet many overweight vegetarians…. but it’s still a tricky lifestyle to follow, your options at most restaurants are limited and the prices of Quorn are ridiculous. Unfortunately there are too many narrow minded idiots who think that they can be the one to convince you that we are designed to eat meat and that you’re wrong for choosing not to, when in fact you can make any choices you want without having to justify yourself at every public restaurant or family occasion. Vegetarians/ vegans etc are obviously clever enough to sustain themselves on a different diet which can be trickier, and for that I think that they deserve more respect for choosing to follow their beliefs despite the obvious difficulties associated with this choice.   

This leads me to a bit of a cross roads; how can I feel guilty for benefiting from the murder of animals when I enjoy, nay love, eating them?  Should I become a healthy, BMI-perfect vegetarian or an overweight, opinionated meat-eating slob? And how on earth can I get aforementioned overweight opinionated slobs to keep their opinions to themselves? This is a tricky one, I wonder if Smarties still have the answer….

Fuck Up

Forward: This is a passage describing regrets that surfaced from not trying hard enough when the opportunity presented itself

As I peel open my eyelids, trying frantically to silence, without damaging, my noisy android friend, that all too familiar feeling of anxiety and sadness fills my hazy early morning thoughts. Is it Saturday? Please god let it be Saturday, I really don’t want to spend another day sitting in a grotty, modular sweat box surrounded by miserable and bitter old gits who insist on calling me ‘young man’ (but apparently it’s offensive if I call them ‘old’, where’s the logic in that?). I simply can’t summon the massive quantity of sarcasm needed to survive yet another day surrounded by people who, to be honest, probably hate their jobs just as much as I do. The highlight of my working day is leaving the door at 5.00pm when I can depart as fast as my skinny legs will carry me without making it blatantly obvious to those around me that I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my current employment, if only my multitude of debtors would accept promises and dreams as payment….

It’s not as if I can point my bitter, RSI infected finger at anyone in particular and call them a ‘dream-breaker’ (I can’t actually ever think of an occasion when I have used that particular insult but hey..), and maybe sue them for allowing me to wander aimlessly down this dead end that I call employment entrusting my future to the comment thrown around by the elderly; ‘it’ll all work out in the end’. Well guess what?? It doesn’t, I’ve tried that for a few years now and I’m officially screwed. A more apt phase involves me lying uncomfortably in a bed that I made myself.

Sometimes I wish I had actually taken myself seriously, instead of daydreaming and teasing myself with seemingly viable options of skipping my next lecture to keep my sofa company. Honestly, I could hear it gently calling my name to try and lure me back onto its forgiving softness with promises of beer and pizza. It was at this point that somewhere inside my unconscious thoughts, a hidden war between my future happiness and the next pint was fought and lost without me even realizing it. I think the buzz word for this reaction to the new found freedom that teenage study allows is culture shock. I can only compare the change to being released from a Category A prison straight into the playboy manor with pocket full of $100 bills, some people (me included) just went mad and plain forgot the what the mission was. And that was my problem, a complete lack of application…

But I’m not so blind that I can’t see which path I should now choose, but at the same time that path is blocked by another quick fix (more beer) that will allow me to remain outwardly sane for another couple of days. I have to keep this as a little secret that only me and my inner voices can talk about, a dirty little shameful fact that I just couldn’t bring myself to share with an actual living person for fear of forced therapeutic help. To the outside world I’m just getting on with it best I can, making do and smiling through it, inside I’m screaming for stimulation.

Don’t get me wrong though, I had an f**king fantastic time tossing it off for all those years … but now I’m not, now I’m unhappy and bitter with the shitty hand dealt to me by life, now I hate myself for messing up my so called future cos of what seemed so important at that time in my life. I guess I’m trying to be wise and get the point home, don’t fuck it all up or you’ll end up like me.

Its a Stupid World

Forward: Why stupid ideas seem to take over…

A few days ago I noticed a sticker in the back window of an old VW Polo stating that it had survived the scrappage scheme, obviously the owner was proud of this fact otherwise why go to the bother of putting a sticker in the car! To be quite honest I felt like stopping him ‘road rage’ style, just so I could shake his hand and possibly even offer him a man hug, although this would depend on the many variables  associated with the technique employed to stop him the first place (he did look quite a bit bigger than me…). But this smart (and large) guy obviously understood the utter stupidness portrayed by our countries ex-faithful leader, and remained impervious to the subliminal advertising techniques, to which so many others fell prey to, and is quite proud of the fact that he managed to actually think outside the black and white lines laid down for us by the powers that be. He is not a dumbass, unless he bought the car with the sticker already in the window?

Now I’m not digging at Gordon for trying (well, I probably am) but his lack of comment sense and guidance was comical. My issues with the old government funded scheme stemmed from the contradiction created by trying to lure a nation of skint people into more debt with car payments whilst encouraging the car giants to import a multitude of cheap little French shit boxes. If their main aim was to kick start a failing industry and remove the (apparently) heavily polluting cars, then it could be chalked off as a massive success. Loads of peeps went forth and spent money that they didn’t have on a car that they didn’t really need. And in the current climate of winging and griping about emissions and carbons and science stuff, why the hell would anyone encourage the heavily polluting industries to consume more energy producing more cars than normal?

Even to a politically incorrect, selfish, single-minded gob shite like me, it doesn’t make sense, so what kind of herbal remedy must Gordon have been smoking to have approved such a mindless and frankly pointless increase in industrial pollution. Surely to god it’s better to keep our bangers running sweetly than make shit loads of new cars that aren’t needed. He’d have been better off toughening up the MOT and giving us a few bob to spend on bring our old bangers up to date. It nigh on impossible to raise the cash needed to legally run our rust buckets these days, the running costs are so high that its hardly surprising that 1 in 2 of us (not strictly true but probably not far off!!) drive with insurance and MOT’s. Given the choice of eating or paying the next monthly installment on the insurance, some families have no choice but to risk it (…for a biscuit).

I could drive that....

Too many people can’t see the forest for the tree’s, they don’t ask questions or read the small print, and end up making life that little bit worse for those of us with an I.Q. higher than my ex-wife’s (which is really, really low… she didn’t know the difference between a native Indian and an Indian!). It’s a worrying thought that we seem to live in a world run by stupid people, for stupid people, and I’m the minority, an outcast within my own society simply cos I see things differently to the current set of bum burglars in charge of our country (one of whom wasn’t even voted in!)

Reality TV is Sham

Forward: The ever increasing popularity of reality TV raises issues with being told what we should find entertaining.

We have now seen the return of the once originally unique real life sitcom that always ends up taking over the entire broadcasting network for a good couple of months and leaves the public with a little present in the form a handful of new Z list celebrities (more like a suspiciously smelling dodgy stain than a present..), that most normal people couldn’t give a camels toe about. We can also thank this reality hell for starting the whole reality TV boom that filled our lives with a never ending torrent of two bit celebrities trying in vain to revive their flagging careers by subjecting themselves to a wide variety of appallingly degrading and downright shameful activities (but occasionally cringingly funny, remember the inflatable Barbie doll eating fish eyes in the jungle?), when all they end up doing is selling Icelandic frozen delights for a couple of months afterwards….

The whole concept of all reality TV is bogus, a play on words and a blatant lie. How can anything that is created and staged be real, how can the ‘actors’ words and reactions be real when they are playing for a prize? All that is being shown is a bunch of actors taking part in a supposedly ‘live’ game show where their ability to create a relatable character is rewarded with money and fame (if fame is even a worthy prize). Mr. T’s ‘Craziest Fools’ was much closer to reality TV than BB could ever be.

I have watched many a decent person (ok, just one but it really annoyed me) become lost in the murky world of BB (insert the series numbers here), watching hour upon hour of the live streaming as they simply go about what can only be described as their everyday business, but more amusingly is watching a friend hurry home from any type of drinking or social session to watch a bunch of strangers sleeping and snoring, to be met with the comment of ‘something interesting might happen…’ Tell you what, turn off the sodding telly and we’ll do something interesting in real life!

The average Joe or Sheila (…I know we’re not Australian but I like the analogy) will, if anything, only watch the hour long summary of the day’s events (usually arguments and bitching) which condenses everything that has happened that day that producers deem interesting or relevant into a daily update allowing us to keep up with the oh so important life that these hamsters lead in their cages. But therein lies the problem… I think that we should be able to make our minds up about the morality and virtuality of each and every situation, but the powers that be in the crazy media circus insist of making this virtually impossible by carefully selecting the little ‘snipits’ that appear on our idiot boxes, honestly they may as well insert a subliminal message stating who they need to win the show into the first ten minutes and allow us to invest that hour of viewing hell into something, anything, more productive than watching a bunch of attention seeking wanna-be’s bitch and argue about who is next to feel a cold blade between their shoulder blades.

I guess I’m trying to say that we shouldn’t feed this industry the attention that, just like its actors, it so desperately craves to stay alive and ‘current’, and then perhaps the vast quantity of money and resources invested could be ploughed into something more worthwhile but it’ll never happen, instead let’s keep our fingers crossed for another series of Jungle winging & Fakes and how to look stupid on ice….

Close the Gate....

Forward: This is a passage describing feelings relating to past event, which has raised deep emotions despite the simplicity of the requests.

A stunning tree deep within Dalby Forest

Its bloody good job that I, like so many others in my situation, suffer tragically from a terrible and debilitating disease; an infliction so devastating and life altering that only another parent would understand the pain caused by this invisible peril. It’s called unconditional love; and is secreted from the pores of the skin for your little bundles of pain joy, and if it didn’t exist or I didn’t suffer from it; I swear I would be receiving visits from my friendly (?) local social worker by now questioning why there are two boys hanging by their underpants from the top of the garage door screaming that it wasn’t them.

For reasons unbeknown to any rational thinking adult, ‘dumb and dumber’ (I do love them, honestly, but this really winds me up) consistently leave the gate, separating my tranquil and tidy back garden from what can only be described as a world war 3, with what sounds like actual murders taking place, wide open. My boundary is breached, my protection from the hordes of screaming brats is nonexistent and I’m scared. What if the little gob s**tes wander in through the open gate looking for an easy target, someone to cling on to, I don’t want to be that friendly dad that the kids feel comfortable around, I’d have to employ an immigrant worker to help me with the never ending string of snacks and drinks that need to be supplied to the rabble.

On Sunday I actually made an effort to count how many times the simple request was made to my two boys, and their friends, and their friends’ friends, and the other randomers that happened to be following them in and out of my garden.  FIFTEEN TIMES, honestly I asked the ignorant little toe rags fifteen times to close the bloody gate, and each and every time they passed through the boundary it was left wide open. And because of that, there is now a deep head shaped groove next to the patio door which I found my head slamming uncontrollably into after every gate related violation occurred. I have a head ache….

But there is an answer, a solution that will save me from the potential snack preparation hell that only expensive ongoing therapy could relive; it’s a called a ‘large f**king spring’ and it will do what my little sods are ment to do after every opening event of the wooden portcullis occurs – CLOSE IT BEHIND THEM!!  

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