Keeping Yourself Occupied on Long Journeys

Now if, like me, you spend a fair amount of time on the motorways/freeways/autobahns or your regional equivalent, you'll know that driving on them for any length of time is a mind-numbing and tiring chore. And, if like me, you do this all on your lonesome, there's nobody to hold a conversation with. So, on these vast tarmac pathways that snake all over the countryside like a child's scribbled drawing, I tend to let my mind wander.

You'll be aware that on these roads there are other cars, other people who are making the same arduous trip you are. And you'll also be aware of the large number of company wagons on the roads. These are my holy grail; I make new, and (in my mind) humourous slogans for them. Here are a selection which I doubt any marketing team would take on;

Stalkers: We already know where you are.

Stalkers are a transport company that deliver things that require delivering. Stalkers are also a group of people that follow someone around and would possibly know things about them before being told. Therefore, this slogan is a match made in heaven.

Pollock: We've dropped another one.

This one might not translate well outside of Britain. "Pollock" sounds like "bollock" - a slang term for a testicle. "Dropping a bollock" means making a mistake. Since Pollock are also a transport company, "dropping another one" may be seen as "dropping off another delivery", or "dropping another bollock". I'm funny, me.

APC: We'll blow you away.

If you're au fait on modern warfare terms, you'll probably get this one straight away. An APC, in modern military parlance, is an Armoured Personnel Carrier, which usually has some sort of large gun on it. Therefore, an APC would be able to 'blow you away' with its gun. Or great parcel delivery service. Either or.

Waitrose? We'll help you shed those pounds.

Waitrose are a sort of posh/rich people's supermarket which sell overpriced stuff. Their name also sounds like "weight rose" which is something that might happen to a person who suddenly became fat. The shedding of pounds could refer to losing weight, or your currency. More likely your currency with the price of the items there.

Spar: Our prices will knock you out.

Spar, which is the antithesis of Waitrose, is a very cheap supermarket. It's also something boxers do when training where they fight each other in a semi-serious match. These boxers would possibly risk being knocked out by bargains whilst shopping there.

So, that's basically how I stop myself falling asleep at the wheel and careening blissfully across into the oncoming lane and into the afterlife. How was your weekend?

Equality Isn't Equal

Well, hello. It's been a while. Mainly because I've had nothing to talk about really, and I'm not one of these people who write about anything and everything I ever experience.

However, it was on the news a few weeks ago that the Government in the UK were taking some flak from a bunch of Feminist nutjobs because some of the changes they made were percieved as being anti-feminist. All they did is get rid of a few of the people in the highest levels of government who they thought weren't pulling their weight and replace them with better candidates, but because they got rid of more women than they put back in, every Feminist from Land's End to John O'Groats were brandishing the pitchforks and torches at the news.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for gender equality and against discrimination, but these Feminist groups' idea of "equality" must be vastly different to mine. To me, equality means both sexes being treated equally. That people are accepted for jobs not because of if they possess a Y chromosome or not, but because of what skills they have. The clue is in the name, folks. It's not difficult.

Feminists, on the other hand, seem to think equality means a 50/50 split. That for every man, there should be a woman in the same level of power. And I think this is a complete and utter load of shit. In most cases, their idea of equality will not equate with mine. They're not totally incompatible, it's just that it only happens when the planets are perfectly aligned. The idea that somehow, there were more men who deserved to be installed in top offices in the Government than women is abhorrent to these types.

Think about it. Say you have 10 job vacancies. Feminists would want 5 of those to go to women. Now, what if, after assessing each applicant, you found that the 10 best candidates were all men? Most Feminists would want you to reject 5 of those and give those jobs to women. They would want you to reject them because of their gender, which is exactly the thing that they're trying to eliminate.

You know what that's called? It's called positive discrimination. So really, we're not working to eliminate discrimination at all. We're just trying to change it's target.

Jump! For My Leapyear.

Okay, I'm not a secret Pointer Brother, but I thought I'd drivel on inanely because of the occasion. So yeah, for those of you who either sleep under a rock or don't follow the Gregorian calender, it's February the 29th. People born on this day have a queer habit of saying "I'm <real age /4> years old!" on this particular date. If so, and you're *really* only 5 years old, what the hell are you doing, driving a car, drinking alcohol and sleeping with women? You've made those innocent girls into paedophiles. Well done, you twat.

But, it's a 1/1826 chance that you're born on this date, so I allow them their little quirks. Basically, the only reason this date exists is because the Gregorian calander is wrong. A year is NOT 365 days on the nose, it's actually 365.25 days (and growing, due to the effect of the tides counteracting the Earth's spin). Therefore, if we didn't clag an extra day onto February (why the hell it only has 28 days to begin with, I don't know. Did the calandar-making people hate the person who made the name so odd to pronounce for its spelling?), we'd be slowly lagging behind. Summer would start in December, confusing the shit out of christmas-card makers, Easter would be celebrated in Autumn, and people going to Wales in a caravan for a weekend away in June might be surprised to find 16 inches of pure, unadultered snow.

Essentially, it'd be like living in Australia. A fate worse than death*.




*(Just kidding, any Aussies who have also got lost on the internet and ended up here. I'd gladly welcome your weather. Just keep your fucking snakes and spiders to yourselves, okay?)

Spying On You From The Comfort Of My Toilet

Bathroom libraries. I'm sure you all have one, and, if not, then I'm sure you'll have read a book whilst attending to Nature's call. Myself, I have a pile of about 6 books ready to be leafed through at my leisure on my bathroom floor. None of them are what you would call 'serious' books, they are just books to be picked up and put down again after a short space of time.

So, recently, I've followed this... hobby... to its natural extension. I take my iPod Touch in with me. I can browse the internet, play a game, and, starting from a few days ago, spy on people. Yes, no longer does the Spy need to rely on large newspapers with eye-holes cut into them, fake moustaches and code phrases such as "The grey wolf howls at midnight". The modern Spy can sit at home, toasty warm, watching people through his PC, and the only things they need worry about are the amount of hot beverage in their mug and their bladder levels.

Now, of course, I'm making this sound a whole lot more dramatic than it actually is. Basically, it's just an app that lets you watch the feed from some camera in Duesseldorf. What is interesting, though, is that many cameras let you take direct control of them. You swipe you finger across the screen in your bathroom in Britain, and a camera in San Francisco rotates and hits a seagull in the face. I'd like to think someone passing by would look up, see the camera gyrating and think "Not that fucking Brit again!".

So, next time you're walking down the street, just pay attention to any CCTV cameras in the area. If you see any of them spinning in circles and doing the funky chicken, be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

...And a Happy New Year.

So, 2011 has slipped away like a person who has woken up at 5am after a regrettable one-night stand. It was a year that had many memorable moments, many tragedies, many great innovations - and the iPhone 4S.

I mean, seriously, why do people keep on forking out huge sums of money for barely-tinkered-with gadgets such as the 4S? It's ever-so-slightly changed from the iPhone 4, and suddenly all the fashionable kids must have one for fear of being laughed at for not having the newest gear. You know what they say about fools and their money, and it's not that they go on to live a long and prosperous life together.

But the acceptance, as a race, to be satisfied with the status quo worries me. Why don't we strive to better ourselves, as our ancestors did? I want my floating cars, nutritional pill diets and dogs in space helmets on every street corner. It's like the sense of adventure has finally been repressed, now we're the number 1 species on this planet. We're top of the pile, and have become complacent. All it takes is one small termite uprising and we're done for.

What would have happened if, back in the Stone Age, Neanderthal man looked outside and thought "Ooh, looks a bit chilly outside, let's never venture out this cave again". We'd still be there, twiddling our thumbs, but at least you'd not be here, reading this. Every cloud and all that.

Right. Anyway. 2012 has lept upon us like some predator-related metaphor. It's going to be a year full of excitement and meteorites and armageddon. That's if you listen to the tin-foil-hat brigade who are shitting their pants because the Mayans couldn't be bothered to calculate any more days past a certain date.

Hey, look on the bright side... No more Christmasses. I wonder how many 'believers' will not buy any presents for their child, expecting the world to end, then have to go on a massive panicky buying spree when they wake up safe and sound on December 22nd.... Only for termites to take over on December 23rd.

You read it here first. I, for one, welcome our new termite overlords.

Bah, Humbug.

So, Chirstmas is just around the corner. No doubt you're wrapped up warm, sitting by the fire, a nice cup of hot chocolate topped with marshmellows in hand, doing 1,000,000 better things than reading this blog.

No?

Well, unlucky you. But even if you are here, I bet you've finished everything needed for Christmas and can settle down and relax.

Me? I've not even *started*. I hate shopping. I hate advertisements. I hate queues. I hate the very fabric of Christmas, the long waits, the money spent, the naff presents from extended family you only see once a year. I would dearly like to meet and subsequently kill the man who invented wrapping paper and designed it to tear so fucking easily. A blind chimpanzee with no arms would do a better job of wrapping presents that I do.

So, I don't like Chistmas. I mean, it's a holiday date stolen from Pagan (the Feast of Sol and Victus) so that, back when Christianity was new and trying to oust the old faiths around, people would find it similar enough to their old religion that they'd switch over. Apparently, you can switch off faith to the holy sky being whenever you feel like it. Now, as an atheist, I don't believe there is anything there to believe in, but it's human nature to feel like you have a purpose, to feel like there is someone at the helm of the ship, and knows which course to navigate. I believe in things that can be tested and repeated under scientific conditions. I love learning about the world we live in, the way chemicals react and the deep, subatomic reasons why; I love learning how mathematics, the most powerful tool ever devised, came about; I love learning how something so complex and intricate as the human body was formed out of mere elements.

What I do not love, however, are these Creationists who are trying to muddy the scientific waters by having Christianity taught on par with science. That is to say that they want the theory that everything poofed into existance to be taught alongside proven theories such as the Theory of Evolution, Heliocentric Theory, the Theory of Tides, et cetera, et cetera. Now, 99% of Christians are lovely, fine people, but why does that 1% think Chistianity should be more valid than, say, Hinduism, to be taught in a Science class? It irritates me that they would want the Human race, as a whole, risk taking a step backwards just to further their own agenda.

Of course, this may sound like sheer hypocrisy coming from a staunch atheist. So be it, but religion is a lot like a penis; You don't want people shoving one down your kids' throats. Let them decide; if they choose to follow Christianity or Islam or Buddhism or be atheist doesn't matter. As long as it's their choice, people should respect that, but just remember that science and religion aren't mutually excluse; There are plenty of religious scientists. There is even a theory that God created the 'big bang' that created the universe. As unlikely as I find it, I have to admit that I think science will never be able to go further back in time than the Big Bang, and so it can never be disproved.

Anyway. I guess the point I'm really trying to make here is I really need to get a move on with my Christmas preparation. Not sure how this turned into a sort of rant, but that's just how my mind works. Give me a topic, set me off and I guarantee I'll be talking about Hitler in 20 minute's time.

So, apparently, God wants me to think about Hitler. That evil, evil, omnipotent and omniscent being.

If I Knew You Were Comin', I'd Have Shut the Curtains and Pretended I Wasn't Home.

So. Blogs. Wooo.

I've made a few blogs before and getting started is always the bugger. You need a first post that grabs your reader by the balls and pummels them into submission until they enjoy it like a businessman in an S&M dungeon.

Unfortunately, this is the bile I produce. It's all I'm bringing to the table. Get used to it, marra, there's a plenty more where it came from.

So. Anyway. You've stumbled into this very corner of the vast, infinitely cornered room that is the internet. Unlucky you. But, seeing as you're here, let me rattle off a load of uninteresting and mundane facts about my life.

Actually, sod that. Blog posts that read like a child's story are dreary and shite. "My name is Paul and I have 4 best friends and we go to the park and sometimes play on the swings and I went home and I had food and I eated it all up"...

Fuck. That. With. A. Shovel.

So, why have I started a blog, you ask? I'm sure that that wasn't really a burning question you had on your lips and dying to know the answer to, but I'll pretend otherwise. Indulge me.

Well, it's for the same reason anyone starts a blog. Because they want to feel like they are some sort of Internet Celebrity and people will give a toss about their small and unimportant lives and opinions. Some people make it big. Many, many more fall by the wayside. If this doesn't join those in the wayside party, I'll be disappointed. I can't see how these so-called "professional bloggers" can be called famous, and to join those would go against my ethics about the vast amount of non-celebrities that permeate into every fucking show, book and film, until they're forced down your throat and you're shitting them out for days on end. Some say that after 7 days of extreme non-celebrity exposure, you grow another head. I'm not willing to test that theory out. I think you're probably going to be dead after 3.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am no "Anti-capitalist/consumerist activist", a group more consisely known as "dicks", but I detest everything about the celebrity culture and how everyone is vying for their 15 minutes of fame. There are 7 billion people, and if each person gets theirs one after the other, we're talking almost 200,000 years of un-funny comedians, talentless actors and musicians and idiotic people injuring themselves with hammers, á la Jackass and Dirty Sanchez. Although not injuring themselves enough, in my eyes.

So, do me a favour, and make this blog crash and burn. I'll thank you for it, and maybe, one day, we can all get together and laugh at the popular kids when they're washed up and over the hill.