Sometimes when waking in the morning and uttering words in regard to breakfast (lunch), english comes across not as a first language but a second, no scratch that, third, fourth… two hundred and fifty sixth language, and all without the aid of anything remotely exotically toxic; perhaps it’s just anything longer than a twitterance.
Saturday, 30 January 2010
After picking up the phone and verbally complaining - in measured tones (apart from a slight hysterical rant towards the end - which i'm putting down to the frequency of my virtual phone/fax software assistant oscillating in synchronisation with the guest & hosted os's) to tfls customer services (buses division) about the constant idling (no not drivers asleep at the whee- although saying that should really post some of those pictures) of bus engines been constantly left on idling (ticking over) let alone the revving of them, sometimes you could almost be forgiven for thinking you were at a formula one starting grid, on top of the increasing frequency of brake squeals and horn use; and sorry but no, using a horn 16 times outside of rush hour with no traffic holding you up in a residential area is not acceptable.
Sadly it would seem that yesterdays boy/girl racers have turned into todays bus drivers - even the aged ones.
So i was impressed with the attention given by customer services at tfl despite having to numerously repeat the bus numbers every other sentence so they could work out which companies to send the complaints to, indeed I was so impressed that 11 minutes later i detected a slight thawing in my attitude. So much so, my original mad bashings titled 'lies, lies, and tfl customer services' that i was going to put online (which for those who have somewhat followed the odd post can just imagine with that headline what the body of burblings contained) has been temporarily put to one side, not deleted, just placed on hold to allow sufficient time for those extra chances (as though five years isn't long enough) to see how well things could improve over the next couple of weeks - although the ongoing chugging (and screech of heavy brakes at four minutes to midnight) seems to indicate which side of the hill this particular saga's continuing to slide down on.
Because you just know that if the sound was on the other foot, which would be the equivalent of burning down the bus garage, finding every relation of every bus-y driver who refuses to switch off their engines and doing a dexter - whilst the driver is watching, then doing away with the driver too, then ferkling out every official supervisor who has received and read complaints from residents (anywhere) in relation to noise issues yet singularly done nothing about it, to subject them to 24/7/365/4 years worth of 200db taped noise (and yes I know eardrums burst at 120db - remember this trail of mayhem murder and mischief is bit of fiction simply added for indicative effect - and to slowly work ones way up the "chain of command" to the directors, place them into cannons and launch them (feet first) from one side of the channel to the other (and yes I know the success rate of cannoning a person from the english shores to the french has been zero - they simply needed to add more bloody powder) however many times it takes until they get the message: that this is how ignored environmental events can impact on those in the nearby surrounds... i'd be tasered every millimetre of the way to a prison cell and deemed a severe menace (well bar any knicker scorcher flying over that is), until the end of my days.
Loud? When is loud too loud? Maybe i'm just becoming more sensitive as the years tick on by, which would be bloody sad as i was quite looking forward to incipient drooling senility, and the only time i would need to inanely socialise is when been digested and shit out by earthworms - but despite full-ear fitting ear-plugs, over which is a full-ear covering set of headphones i can still hear the squeals of brakes or bus horns, and all through double glazed windows - believe me it's loud; and i am not the only person complaining about it.
To think only a few years ago I was fondly thinking of bricking up all the windows...
Oh my, maybe it really is time to move to the country - middle of antartica about 200m below the surface, or maybe i should install secondary glazing (it already has double before some smarky tit interjects)-, no tertiary glazing and turn one room into a panic/silent/two-fingers to the noise, room with air-purification, lots of plants, foam backed walls to absorb sound, slightly lower the ceiling with padded foam on the other side, suspended floor with noise cancelling inch rubber thick matting and wooden panels... it might just make at least one room semi-nice to live in once more, even if it no longer has the space to swing a dead newborn rat.
Update 30/01/10 15:44 slightly amended to improve readability.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
A source from experts said that the moon will disappear from Earths orbit, in a few years; but a few years before that fateful time the earths oceans will boil, mars will be our new home and jupiter will be turned into the solar systems biggest diamond.
Another source said all of that was a pile of rubbish and shouldn't be taken with anything but a crate of prozac to calm the first source down.
A third source said they were both barmy and that if you sailed off into the sunset your boat would fall off the end of the world.
Another source said that everyone within a 50 mile area was providing terrorists with material that could possibly be of material benefit to said terrorists: so all sales of toilet paper, oyster cards, birthday cards, newspapers should be banned, corner shops, supermarkets, knicker shops should be cordoned off with everyone required to show their passports and id cards before reaching checkouts.
And as the wheel of the sensible bus hurtles after the bus over the edge and into the canyon below, just before exploding on impact the last thing to flash before your mind...
... our water's taxed - and poisoned, our foods taxed and value added along the line, our travel's taxed down to our shoes and scummy trainers (yet try to go down the street bare-feet and in the nude and you'll be arrested for shocking the public), so even if you grow your own: the land's taxed, the delivery of goods to you or from you is taxed, not to mention the water's taxed with tax on top which only leaves the air; the only thing they haven't yet manage to singularly tax - unless you're flying through it - will, once they finally get their way, be taxed as an environmentally sound thing to do and surprisingly, and naturally wont be spun as simply a tax just t-…
Monday, 25 January 2010
"So how do you get to sleep?"
"Well I put my head down and within seconds I'm counting sheep."
"And what about you madam?"
"I have a cup of cocoa, put my head down and before I realise it, i'm dreaming of knitting odd socks."
"Wonderful. Excuse me Sir, how do you get to sleep?"
"Well, first of all i put in my ear plugs, then i cover them with dense cotton wool, then a thick towel, then i put on headphones and turn the volume up so i can just about hear it."
"Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"Not as extreme as what i'm doing to those bloody sheep!"
Friday, 15 January 2010
Limbaugh reminds me of a sick puppy, one that scrambles around shitting itself at every opportunity because it just can't help it.
So he criticises obama for taking three days to give the nation his spleen over the attempted bombing of the airline over detroit - in which no one died, no plane was brought down, even "pants on fire" survived. But a country, not exactly a million miles away, suffers the most devastating natural disaster in over 200 years with many thousands (even hundreds of thousands) dead and he's critical that obama responds within 24hrs.
Perhaps mr p should have waited two weeks before responding, but no doubt that would have brought on the clamouring charge of indifference.
A sick, mad puppy.
And as for robertson… sick, mad, bad, nasty, viscous, hateful…
But those are just my idle thoughts, i could be wrong.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
As a quick and easy back-up measure linux has more than proved itself. Quicker to set up and run, stable, hasn't crashed or seized up once since installing and that after putting on ubuntu 8.04 with a livecd, upgrading to 8.10 by streaming over the net, upgrading to 9.04 by another stream (and vowed never to do it again), then in moment of delirium and pitching all concern to the wind, i finished off by using the 9.10 alternative cd which upgraded the 9.04 in no time at all; an unexpected useful fall-back in an emergency, despite having to spend even more time in front of the bloody screen learning things anew.
The one thing this chapter has ensured is that after many abortive attempts linux is now my os of choice; and i am pleasantly pleased.
Hm. Bash? Man? Grep? Bash a mans grep, what the?...
Friday, 1 January 2010
Well the old memorable decade and especially rubbish (starting to get the impression of a theme here) year are nearly neatly inturned, so with the usual nonsensical tradition of wishing in a better new year, my new years wish in best competition answering mode is "for an end to the mentality of ...
them against us, shaft or be shafted, law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, cops and robbers, beauty and the beast, good cop bad cop, good evil, god devil, angel demon, for us or against us, shitty options, shifty options, options that don't land us in the shit."
that always seem to hold us back.
Now, i just need to minutely examine my breath for an increase in superlatives.
Wishing everyone a wonderful, happy and more peaceful 2010.