Riotous Assembly

You can't have two weeks off without the bloody slum going up in flames, and living approximately 0.22 miles from one of the 'hotspots' there are, naturally, a few choice thoughts floating in my semi-liquid stuff regarding the whole affair.

In many quarters, during the recent heady riotous events which unfolded over the first two weeks of august 2011, the frothing masses - like a badger with a wasps nest stuck up its arse - demanded those on the bottom (discounting the middle elements who spotted a potential earner, or at the very least early christmas presents) who participated and fulsomely joined in with the looting, crowed that participants should be: severely punished, disproportionately sentenced, suffer the loss all of their safety nets, and if it turns out they are council tenants, ensure they’re evicted and left to rot in their own juices - a glance at any dystopic film will more than fill-in any relevant missing background information here, whilst showing where it is we’re heading to - so teaching those who would dare challenge our way of life, or even stick two fingers to authority, that authority and society will work themselves into a royal tizz and simply not tolerate it - that is, until the next revolution takes place.  In this day and age, can i be done for uttering the word, revolution?

It was surprising seeing people tweeting and hearing folks talking to hosts on radio & tv shows saying how “cowed they felt” and how “scared and frightened they were in their homes” - when their homes existed at least a mile away from any flashpoint!  

As mornings and evenings sped by it became clear that rioters were, to a brick or bin-hurler, really more interested in the interior of clothing or electrical stores; failing that, the re-modding of police car exteriors, than generally ransacking peoples homes (except for one freelance fbi’er who was unlucky to have an opportunistic break in, but who had sensibly installed tracking software on to his laptop), meant the relative initial mood of the population simply veered towards a collective groan and the shaking of heads, muttering “tsk, the youngsters”.  

Unfortunately as events unfurled, it became clear that one profound sad consequence of the looting, and torching of many premises, was the effect on fellow citizens who were residing in those now open-air pigeon nests. Understanding turned to rage, as rumours and reports of citizens been killed simply trying to protect their premises, or homes, galvanised airwaves and screens, solidifying the eventual government knee-jerk backlash.

Admittedly my prolapsed attitude would probably have flown out the window, had i too been forced to flee through one; but, if your only information of the goings on which occurred in the uks capital was transmitted through the box, the web, or the morning papers, you could be forgiven for mistaking the whole of london was, if not in flames, that a significant proportion was primarily so.

As the clashes, torching, looting, and faltering of the blue-line continued, the initial reasons for the riots (the killing of mark duggan), was swamped then lost amongst the first bit of meaty news the press were able to fully zoom in on, since the student demonstrations.  But it transpired he had not fired at the policeman, nor was he was holding a gun - although why he had a loaded gun in the first place?  The policeman who was shot, was shot from a bullet fired by one of his colleagues.  

This appears to have been seized on, not by the family and friends of mark duggan who quickly came out to condemn the mini "london’s burning”, but other elements intent on seizing the opportunity of a situation, and for whatever reason, the lack of effective policing to spot the moment.

Peaceful protest was followed by the now iconic scenes etched on many people minds, after all news channels kept on showing the same bits of footage: over and over and over and over again, twined as it was by a palpable pall of presenter outrage and fear.  At that time (before the deaths of fellow citizens and the growing acknowledgement that people were losing their homes) i popped some popcorn on to watch events unfold, and listen and read the nonsense spouted.  

Taking into account the less than stellar, and sometime hypocritical, actions of mp’s, police chiefs, quangos, bankers, energy utility, where hardly a month fails to go by without some company announcing how many billions they’ve made in profit, but they sadly have to trim costs, throwing thousands on the heap, and as we all age we’re constantly told we’ll have to retire later and with less, whilst the young in many areas are unable to reach the first rung, let alone climb up.  On the other hand, we have entertainers, footballers, ceo’s, who earn more money in a year than many of those growing up and unemployed will see in four of their lifetimes.  Of course there are those who will rise through the top whether by striving, through luck, or raw channelled  talent, but they have always been the few in every generation - otherwise we’d all be floating around on our individual sea-going tower blocks trying to hail someone for love or money!

The current system has time after time been shown to be nothing more than a sow’s purse in a busted pen, with the vast majority failing to feel their lot substantively improved, indeed a growing number are constantly hearing, “if you think this is bad, you ain’t seen anything yet!”  Whilst the top dot indeed, have really never had it so good.

This does go some distance to prove that our creaking beam of a society really is held together with nothing more than consensual duct tape, proving as it does that the many are generally happy to stay within the elastic confines of compromise, enabling the city to exist as it does.

Oh yes, riots.

If we remove from the equation those who had good jobs, olympic representatives, lawyers, students, graduates etc, we find that there is still a substantial section of society who feel that they have no hope, who are constantly told how much more harder than their parents and grandparents generations their own lives are going to be, and all because people who would probably never talk to them if they were in the same lift as them, went on a binge of magic proportions without any care should things not quite work out how they planned.

How that fits in with the riots should be self-evident.  In one corner the hoover (wonder if any of those were nicked, or did they go for dysons?) of capitalism locates the cheapest manufacturing for the highest return, whilst the bar to entry for employees is always rising.  So we hear of companies closing down in one expensive country and opening up in a cheaper one.  Cheaper due to lower taxes?  Reduced labour costs?  Ease of importing, or the ease of oiling the wheels bypassing all that tape?

Blimey i'm tired. If you really want a good ripping read and decent take on the matter, spring over to naomi klein’s piece in the guardian.

 

I, luckily, still have a pillow calling.

Wonderful or beautiful?

Ophiuchus and the Galactic Centre
Image Credit: ESA / HFI / IRAS

 

A look back at the panic

London, August 2011.

The problem with now

Its a few years since my abortive attempt at reanimating comatose brain cells, ended in abject party-fuelled failure; but my current environment provided the required boost, whilst nearly derailing those efforts by dousing regular injections of screams, shouts, parties - emanating from the communal garden - newly arriving stomping neighbours, buses at the stand (pumping out noxious fumes 24 hours a day), topped by the venue next door providing obligatory, and jarring, ribcage vibrations.

The potent mix often proved too much for fragile levels of concentration; leaving snatched moments, from inopportune junctures, as fractious shards peppering the study materials to hand.

So last week i was surprised to learn i had scuttled over the line for both courses, and can now start adding alphabet souplets after my name - i presume to show anyone who’s really bothered by that sort of thing, that the few functional brain cells which do exist, can harmoniously work together; showing that despite being a screw-up, i’m not the complete twit i thought i was.

Which is nice.

Riotous assembly preamble

Oh the riots and the indignant anger, but is it nothing more than indurate railing at the chavbags making off with 50" screens?

Sunny shudders

Bah, it's a sunny warm day, which appears to be thawing my normal sour disposition. 

Hopefully a few hours reading on nationmaster.com, or the eventual screaming, shouting and goings on that generally afflict the immediate vicinity - when temperatures cool by the arrival of dusk - will soon consign all that nonsense to the momentary bad memory pile.

Oh winter, where art though?

Space Shuttle

With the last space shuttle touching down, a another milestone is reached; to all intents and purposes russia is now the only country able to launch and re-enter, no doubt explaining the huge increase in their charges.

Like any good supply and demand system.

But a salute to all who flew and the endless inspiration provided.

image: At 5:57 a.m. EDT on July 21, 2011, space shuttle atlantis lands
for the final time at nasa's kennedy space center

Space Shuttle

Tfl and inability to manage

If tfl were truly serious in tackling pollution, rather than just coveting photo ops and nice sounding press releases, residents living in the vicinity of stands would not be up in arms over drivers failing to switch off their stationary vehicle’s engine – which they allow to tick-over anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes, 20+ hours a day, everyday apart from christmas.

When (in this area alone) there are over 800 bus terminations per day, that’s not only a serious health issue tfl seem happy ignoring (despite it being brought to their attention), but means the area is swamped in a blanket of air pollution from buses with their engines running.

Tfl could make a start by implementing their own regulations in regard to this and save a whopping great amount on their fuel costs, whilst not attempting to kill their ‘neighbours’ by showing their wonderful neighbourliness. 

Failing that, they could employ drivers who are environmentally friendly and capable of finding the off switch; and perhaps this maybe facilitated by newly introduced stock, which when combined with improved driver performance, might actually make a dent in tfl's bus fleet emissions! 

Yes, and i believe in santa claws.

Scatterguns

What to bumble on about, when there are so many choices?

• A murdocking - when an empire believes its own invincibility hype.
  
• The continuing implosion of the euro, which is odd considering population, size, plenty of world-class companies out there.  It's not even that bad a basket case as the states when it comes to many factors, yet entities seem intent on pushing it in a direction enabling the division of the public silver.
  
• Glaciers melting faster than predicted.
  
• Worst (already) year, since records began for disasters.
  
• More volcanoes popping off.
  
• The "we're all in this together," austerity wheezes...

oh where to start...

Environment, experience, evaluation, evolution, enlightenment

George Carlin on religion

"... Religion has convinced people that there’s an invisible man…living in the sky, who watches everything you do every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a list of ten specific things he doesn’t want you to do. And if you do any of these things, he will send you to a special place, of burning and fire and smoke and torture and anguish for you to live forever, and suffer and burn and scream until the end of time. But he loves you. He loves you and he needs money."

George Carlin  1956-2008

Team activities

Once you navigate past the psychotic, the neurotic, the clueless, the power mad, the control freak, the thumb sucker, the plotter, the planner, the 'want to be friends with everyone', the loner, the loser, the jack ass, the groper, the 'befriender', the tall-story teller, the great whopping fibber, the one who's late, the one who tuts, the one who's done it all before yet never seems to progress, the insecure one, the bling merchant, and the obligatory brown noser; team activities can be sooo much fun.


Update 09:10hrs after another 'shooting from the hip' failure.

Soggy rates

A momentary upward glance from a fascinating growth on the left hand side of my navel, had me catch a quickly scrolling item about the surprising fall in the uk's inflation rate, which dropped by a whopping 0.3% to 4.2%.

Wonderful.

With interest rates at a record low (so savers are stuffed), banks not lending except to those wonderful few who are managing to obtain mortgages, by been eminently sensible and so capable of affording the 25-99% deposits now required, or if they're a business and want a midge more plumping of the cashflow pillow, passing over the business and the promise of their next born, as security. Don't take me verbatim on that last point, there is an outside possibility i could be wrong.

However, the next time you wonder why you're paying so much, for food, or energy, or one of the many myriad of things the none uber-wealthy don't really need but want as they assist in day to day living, and you happen to catch the pious rubbish spouting from the lips of the never-lying, just remember that it really doesn't have to be this way; it's just that greedy so-and-so's (or groups of) have decided that's the current direction we're all heading towards come poverty or high water.

Otherwise known as supply and demand, the market, or the jungle. No scrub the jungle, that's heartily unfair on the anima- must dash, i'm sure something just waved.

Hybrids to improve the air

“So remember if you wish to be a mass murderer there really is no need to carry around knives, guns, a dirty bomb, or even stooping as low as acid; simply become an authorised london bus driver and you can poison as many people as you can get away with for as many years as you're employed by the subs.  Just imagine 40 years of killing thousands of people and all legal to boot.  Apart from the arms, weapons or being in the military where else can you - without fear of comeback - pop off a few thousand civilians without a hitch?”

The training facility, late 2012.

Paper withdrawals

Sigh, news of the good riddance!

Why Unemployment Matters - The Atlantic

"That is what these numbers mean: millions of people, staring into the abyss of an empty future. We don't know how to re-employ them. The last time this happened, in the Great Depression, World War II eventually came along and soaked up everyone in the labor force who could breathe and carry a toolbag. I hope to God we're not going to do that again, so what are we going to do with all these people?" Megan mcardle, the atlantic, 8 jul 2011.

Why Unemployment Matters - The Atlantic

Noisy hello holes

How noisy is your hell hole; sorry, naturally i mean local environment?

Can you open your windows on a nice summer day, or are you forced to steam shut your windows due to vibration & air pollution from public transport, noise from screaming kids - whose parents apparently forget that if they run wild and free those teenage years are going to be a killer?

Do your  upstairs neighbours appear to be practising the highland stomp, whilst dragging a boulder across the floor?

Are you bounced out of your bed by low flying planes, pinned in by a military base, or is peace and enjoyment the order of your day?

What's your happy noise-free, or noisy story?

Breathe in: 1, 2- cough.

UK deaths from air pollution as high as reported during the 1952 'great smog'.
http://www.environmental-protection.org.uk/news/detail/?id=2820

Bus driver monitoring?

On the 1st July 2011, tfl awarded a new contract to aa drivetech, a leading fleet consultancy and driver training provider in the uk & overseas.

That's nice.

Perhaps instead of monitoring their driving performance, they could teach some of the drivers how to switch off their engines when stationary at a bus stand. Which i presume would help tfl's fuel costs, cut down on the pollution residents unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity of said stands are forced (might as well be at gun point) to breath in, whilst also cutting down on the noise and vibrations caused by the inconsiderate behaviour of their sub-operators.

One can but wish.

philip davies and the walker of nastiness?

I knew there was something i'd forgotten which had slipped past my 'dar; namely the conservative mp philip davies, who opined that disabled people should offer themselves for work at below the uks minimum wage - no doubt thinking they should be grateful anyone would ever wish to employ them, let alone look at them, as they go about their business and "don't forget to doff your forelocks" as you're scuttling into work of a morning before your much better offs.

Would using the term horridly odious be classed as to extreme in this case? Strange that the horrid part feels like a mirror. However, perhaps by that extension he should also suggest that they work for longer, and be grateful for the bowl of gruel at the end of the day without ever expecting a pension!

I'm not sure if it's just my perception but there seems to be a growing band [of dunderheads?] who appear to have lost the ability to either empathise or even remotely wish to understand the lives of others before opening their mouths. Subject after subject trots by where it seems the "i'm okay, tough tits to you" brigade are not just okay with hanging out their fellow citizens for the grinder, but sadistically happy to throw them in the machine.

Remember, that it's more than only hard work that makes wonderful cushy positions cushy. Just think of all those other bodies that have had to be walked over (knowingly or not) to get there. It could be you, it could be me. In a few years time, millions of graduates from all across the world will be looking for an ever diminishing (relatively) number of jobs. Technology will increase to a level where quantum computing will be literally around the corner.  Memory 100 times better than the current crop of flash memory will be in everyday use, even devices with fully functional ai's - however rudimentary.

When our mobile devices reach the stage of having the intelligence of a dog, and the new moulding graphene based technologies become embed into everything, how long before the most advanced of our wonderful cushies are easily surpassed by a rarely weary ai?

Not that i'm one of those railing against such an event, it should be a good thing, bar the usual scenarios of mad ai overlord taking control and ridding the planet of the human pest. Which might be a tragedy, on some level, but perhaps not if the majority are going to have happily aired ideas like philip davies, who of course has a right to say so. How else can the ebb and flow of discussions and growth continue if we all had the same ideas. Unless, of course, philip davies has obviously discovered that the perfect way to nirvana, is to have a huge impoverished sub-class, with the remaining 1-2% living the life, health and wealth of emperors - naturally those who lived to a ripe old age; and not the ones poisoned, stabbed in the back, or hurled off rocks to their deaths below.

Madness of the unborn states?

After way too much inward navel gazing, its  time to expand from myself and ponder for a while matters other than i.


The virulent antics of the anti-abortionist brigade (strangely usually headed by men - why is that?) has always struck me as strangely dyspeptic, even logic twisting; as many of its supporters appear happy venting unabashed vengeance against those providing services for women who don't want a baby, any baby not even a baby forced on them by a rapist, as presumably society as we know it will up sticks and collapse.

Mayhaps they are unaware of the 15,000,000 annual baby and children deaths around the world from starvation (have a read just in case you have no idea of the process, i didn't), a slow painful death as your body slowly feeds on itself over weeks in an effort to survive.

Perhaps that's not as pressing a concern as preventing a woman from having an abortion. A woman who has probably thought through and reached a decision that extremely affects her, her body, her health, her sanity, and her ongoing dividing embryonic cells.  Not yours, nor mine.

No, these bubble-hounds believe it is far better that a child is born, regardless of the wants and wishes of the mother, so whatever passes for their conscience can be salved; happy, ignorant or uncaring of the other 15,000,000 deaths, occurring annually around the globe, from starvation.  Or are they of the opinion that once a child is born, if it then succumbs to a slow and painful death then never mind, that must be the will of the almighty or the work of the fallen one? I believe the term sadist in this light is a woeful inadequate term.

People have always meddled in others lives, you do it, i'm doing it, its a product of who we are, and as our cities continue transforming into glamorous villages, action (for good or ill) is a slivering whisper away from a roaring inferno.

If the pro-lifers (but happy to kill you if we disagree with you brigade), wish to show they are much more than a fanatical band of whoopy-tunes, then they should go boycott big food, the pharmaceuticals, or demand an answer from their politicians, as to why in this day and age millions across the globe are allowed to starve, when at least 40% of 'westerners' foodstuffs ends up in a landfill never being consumed or opened.  Then once they've committed to that and sorted that out, they might then have a claim to advise women on the benefits and joys of motherhood and the bringing up an unwanted child.

Rambling stint

I'm hoping against hope (and past experience) that my little long stint in purgatory will soon come to an end. Despite those believing my use of religious terminology is odd, sometimes it's the only workable method until succinct remembrance bubbles up with alternatives.

Ending one's stint naturally involves ground work, research and prolonged visits to an area. However, if I view somewhere that looks whiter than white but turns out to be a cross between the twilight zone, stepford wives, hammer house of horror and shameless; i hope the past few years will have stood me in good stead, enabling good sense and fortitude to rise to the fore and start pumping these legs into running away, whilst alternately having me screaming and bursting out into bouts of gibbering laughter.

The plodding nature of this piece can be firmly placed on the pedestal of forgetfulness, barely able as i am to accurately remember the word(s) i'm reaching for, when i need them at any precise time. This entails bashing away padding stuff out, then re-reading and rewriting dozens of times before whatever i'm rambling on about passes for something intelligible and not simply the actions of a cat jumping all over a keyboard. A lesson long learned when initial attempts at posting straight from the hip left a mangled mess of unintelligible nonsense, that even i had problems making sense of.

Alcohol used to do the trick, dulled the senses, but even that's stopped. The resultant effect of damming that hole has me walking up at night with an outpouring of a myriad of ideas, thoughts and questions, all in need of a pen or damned heavy weight. Which is forgotten in a flash by the realising need to visit the bathroom.

So when will my time in purgatory end? Sometime before, during or after 2012.

War and peace

The problem with being a hermit, is that many things - who said life? - can pass you by; when you have friends you can count on your big-toe, or your migraine suddenly descends whilst watching regular news channels, each time leaving your wondering just how low can they go, and each time it's that little bit lower.

An element of that lifestyle entails missing something which fervently tickles and entices the neurons.  One of which is work for peace by gil scott-heron.

The I.D.S idleness

So there are far too many migrants popping into the country, working harder, longer, with a better education, and with a get up and go kind of spirit; which doesn't refute the oft shrill cry of 'they're only migrant benefit cheats', there's just usually more to a story than one, or even two, strands.

British firms should give jobs to british workers, mainly the young mind as those who have passed their twelfth birthday are probably already set in the 'workshy, layabout, where's my benefit' mould; if we believe everything emanating from the mouth of ids and alienphobic shrills.

A nonsense all of it.  Many manufacturing jobs went overseas because companies found they could happily manufacture products overseas far more cheaply (due to lower wages) and have the resultant stuff shipped back and still make a profit.  As the education system in those outsourcing countries has improved and more of their citizens are able to send their own off-spring to ivy-league universities elsewhere, then home-grown businesses are starting to do what 'western' companies did, but actually employ their own home-grown workforce, at least for a while.

Increasingly 'westerner' middle-classer's (many who happily voted for sid and the resultant selling off of the family, gold, silver and half-cracked ceramic eggcup), are starting to find their livelihoods and possibly the livelihoods of their wee ones threatened, and feel somewhat aggrieved.


Too late.  That boat has sailed to far eastern shores, and only the resultant fall in uk living standards, and brining property prices back to sensible levels, will provide an improvement and reduction in stress levels.  Else the dog-eat-doggedness will continue its slippery slide until we're all bemusedly circling around, wondering when it all went so comically wrong.

Popular-isms

It was time to take an incredulous look at the statistics to see which ones resonated amongst the dear readership of this boat, along with the top 10 country breakdown of regular and ad-hoc visitors; i'm truly agog at the number who find such navel gazing slightly more interesting than watching paint dry - i love watching paint dry, it's a very under rated past-time.

Without further waffle, the most popular semi-rants (in order) are:

Semi-rant	%
HFO services and unprofessional ethics	37.9
Visiting pontiffs	20.7
Strike 1 – census office	15.5
Breadless	8.6
Lazy work-shy layabout wastrel	4.7
Surviving an asteroid strike	3.0
Nothing ever changes	2.6
Financial daubing	2.6
Urk	2.2
4 something lighter	2.2

and the top ten country visitors:

Country	%
United States	66.9
United Kingdom	23.9
Germany	3.8
Iran	2.7
Denmark	0.7
India	0.7
Canada	0.3
Netherlands	0.3
Russia	0.3
Taiwan	0.3

Nanotechnology pushes battery life to eternity

Nanotechnology pushes battery life to eternity

Epert pod

A brief 40 second sound podburst about e-perts.

The stash

I made mention of falling off the smoking wagon, due to courses, a weak will and environmental leverage a couple of months ago.

The following picture is a snapshot of how far i fell off the wagon, before realising the rapid greying of the already grey dermis was a sign that those happier smoking days, are well and truly behind me; in a puff of slightly toxic fumes.

counting the fall from the wagon.

Surely not a spam-scam?

I awoke yesterday morning to discover i was the rather surprised winner of winning ticket number 00869575733664, with the lucky numbers 12-12-23-35-40-41 (12) - which would indeed be an interesting draw, if any number drawn could then be used over and over again; forget the 1 in a 116,531,800 approximate chance of winning the euromillions jackpot, this would make it more 1 in a: not this, or the next, or the next, but the end of the next universe's time-line chance of winning the big one kind of odds.

[Warning, bubble expansion detected!]

Bizarrely on this occasion, i won!

How remarkable is that?  Having a lucky ticket i never purchased or possessed, with numbers i never entered, in a lottery with no name, that simply turns up trumps!

Wonderful.

Oh, there goes a unicorn by the window, giving me a wink and a nod - how sweet.

My ardour at wondering what to do with this newly found virtual wealth was somewhat deflated, when i found out the ticket number had been in circulation since the 1st of March this year.  Not only the same ticket number, but the same lucky numbers too.  One thing which has changed however is bernard graham's email, which appears to have gone through more permutations than any of the winning numbers or tickets purportedly waiting to dump on some poor unlucky soul.  The appearance of an interloper (in the form of a ms peterson) is perhaps an indication that mr graham's success rate at reeling in recalcitrant winners is less than stellar, and so a new tak's been attempted..

Don't forget and let me re-iterate; without me having to lift a finger, press a digit, do anything, but  simply exist and be the proud owner of an email address, some spam-bot has informed me i am richer to the grand sum of £500,000.  Of course that's on top of the $950 mn i won from bp oil, the $200 mn from volvo, the lower-body extension that would make pan blush until the end of time, and all those other emails saying how wonderfully lucky i really am, "just press that reply button" or click that link for "riches beyond your dreams."

Now in case you're wondering about any of the above, i hope the inclusion of the unicorn gave the whole game away and removed the cranial-occlussion you may have harboured as to the authenticity of these large, out of the blue, and utterly non-existent imaginary lump sums.  Without proper sand-boxing, and other measure, clicking will only win you a trojan(s), a worm(s), virus('s) or other infection on your computer, soon followed by the sad emptying of your account - if you do online banking, use credit or debit cards that is.

So if anything looks like the following (with or withou glaring errors and mistakes) for fends sake don't click or follow.  Just report as spam and delete.

Clouds of nothingness

Moralisms

Which set of moral values will those born 100 years from now subscribe to, and will we be looked on as  nothing more than dinosaurs?

First World

Now and then, som- actually this is a science fiction premise which just smacks of huge, if you haven't watched or seen, then have a look and wonder why it shouldn't be turned into a full-featured film or series.

It is called first world by mark lund.  A 20 minute fictional (sci-fi) surprising treatise  about what was discovered on the moon during the apollo missions (before the transformers got there or perhaps that's a nod to) and has been winning prizes over the globe over the past few years.

FIRST WORLD - New Official Trailer

FIRST WORLD | Myspace Video

Reminds me of waiting for a decent adaptation of lord of the rings, which thanks to all of those involved in the film trilogy, has been happily sated.

Interesting politics

Many would conscribe to the lot of politicians the title scoundrel; that paints a wide unforgiving brush, as peoples perceptions not only encompass the scoundrels but those who sincerely wish the best for their constituents - a seemingly vanishing breed!

But over the past few phasing years - whilst turning into a hermit living in one of the most populated parts of the uk - my curiosity has perked over the goings on that occur in: the usa, australia, the eu, china, russia, the galapogos, places from the arctic to the sheering wilkins ice-sheet off the antartic.  Indeed any other location around the globe except for here, in the stoloniferous, dull, hide-bound and dessicated dust-bowl of a legislature, that goes by the long-lapsed title of mother of all parliaments.  Where voting for any leg of the milkmaids stool,  dumps on you the same lap-full quantity of effluent.

I digress.

There appears to be a growing tide of do what i tell you to do as opposed to do what you want to do, as long as it doesn't harm anyone, or, do what we tell you to do - as that's the law, creeping back into the centre of things.  Always a bad sign. As it tends to be souls aiming to expunge their own lack of fortitude in those particular departments, or those who hear the voices telling them to expunge - usually with malice - those who fail to expediently expunge such badness from their horrid torrid existence, who are most ardent in ensuring the rigorous instalment of proscribing strictures.

With nearly 7bn people living on the crust, many of whom have that horrible propensity to think independently how, under any current models, will every digit of those billions actually have a workable say in anything that goes on?

They can't and they don't.

Are you a tosser?

In this day and age of technologically augmented souls racing ahead, leaving those with a wary eye wondering what to do with a blockerbook and how to stop a wittering tool; a new-old acronym is starting to bubble upwards, periodically breaking the surface of newly-termed acceptance.


Welcome to the rise of the tosser!

They used to be called the nerdy geek.  The bespectacled socially lacking in graces kid, who preferred sitting in front of a computer screen in the hopes of bringing the world to the brink of armageddon, or at the very least cracking into something juicy in preference of smooching down and out.

Over time, many grew and transformed their pet projects into multi-million plus making organisations, further enabling their nerdy geek-cred. allowing for happy wallowing in all things sci-fi; despite the daft sy-fy channel having a problem understanding what the term science fiction actually means or stands for by cancelling sci-fi shows by the bucket-load instead of undertaking serious attempts to getting them established.  You'd be left curious as to why sy-fy simply don't drop the pseudo term 'sy' - with the remainder adequately describing how many sci-fier minds feel is their current marketing approach to the genre.

However, the pervasive inclusion of technology in everyday items is remarkable.  As even our toasters now have more computing power than zx spectrums, and as for everyday computers, the only requirement to making heaps of wallowing stuff is some talent and good timing.

So why tosser?

Simple, a new breed is on the march!

Technological orientated sci-specific enlightened realists.

Cliff jumping

"Why are you going to jump off the cliff?"
"I've been told to by the fair and balanced."
"Told to jump off the cliff?"
"Yes.  They said that if all true supporters jumped off a cliff, that we'll get what we deserve!"

The now

"Not one day goes by without me staring expressionless at the face looking through the mirror;  an echo of haunted dreams, as a single thought courses its curse, 'what have you done?'   

The crawling litany of jabbing accusations, lost hopes, poisoned emotions, make way for the shrill piercing credits of some bad on-screen flop.  The sole items in the ever present catalogue are simply lines of bizarre choices, pleasured, knotted, and filleted aeon's ago.  Never fading forever carping,  'what have you done?'  

Fat-bottomed top-heavy ships moving through a force-five hurricane would fare better - with no-one at the wheel.  In this space? Navigation is simple, instinct driven, rarely examined for fear of meeting the harsh realities of self.  That ravenous entity just outside of waking vision, biding, waiting, for another moment of lapsed weakness.  A right moment to occupy, and wreck afresh its primal need of chaos.

Sluicing splashes of icy water randomly play within the mornings ritual, arcing freshly unturned memories - unwelcome visitors - into the spotlight of now..."

Another babylon 5 loss

I was, and still am, a fan of the babylon 5 sci-fi show written by j. michael straczynski, and was sadened to hear of the passing of another of it's fine actors; namely jeff conaway at the age of 60 on friday 27th may 2011, who played security chief zach allan.

Despite appearances in grease, taxi and many other shows and films, it was his portrayl of zach allan which has always remained with me.  His passing, along with that of richard biggs - playing dr stephen franklin - who passed away in 2004 at the age of 44, and andreas katsulas - playing g'kar - who passed away in 2006 at the age of 59; leaves the main cast of babylon 5 a little bit smaller, but never forgotten.

May they all meet for a great festival of spoo tasting, beyond the rim.

Lazy work-shy layabout wastrel

I wasn't going to bite, but sadly i just couldn't help myself.

More than 77% of voters (extrapolated from a 2,203 sampled group) think long-term benefit claimants should do community work in return for their benefits.  69% of voters (again from the same 2,203 sample) think claimants should lose their benefits; yet completely fail to mention buy-to-let landlords making a reasonable earner off the sponging sub-classes.  51% (again of the 2,203 sample, so 1,102 of them) indicated that no-one should get any help unless they had paid into the system through national insurance and tax.  There is no mention made of how long those hoping to get help should have paid into the system, or even if there's a lower contribution or time limit to the contributions wastrels have to reach, before been deemed worthy of the splintered crutch.

After some moments pondering on the remarkableness of spinning whilst flying, another thought hit me.

Why leave it at that!

For example, I'm remarkably careful at home - now that i'm more teetotaller than alco-binger.  I don't smoke indoors nor do i set fire to pans whilst fast asleep in the bath; so surely now i won't need to pay anything towards a fire-service?  I rarely go out at night, and avoid rowdy places - somewhat difficult in one of the most populated boroughs in london.  So probably shouldn't pay anything towards the police or ambulance services either.  As i have no wish for children of my own, i don't see why anything of mine should be paid towards schools or the education of those who have numerous offspring, or towards those over 18 who should, by then, be able to support themselves in the betterment of their intellect so ensuring they're able to pay into the tax kitty, and so build up a golden-pot for their inevitable frequent bouts of unemployment.

I don't swim in the sea nor do i boat, climb mountains nor walk fells; so lop some off the air-sea rescue services.  I don't want trident so cut a few pounds (say one sixty-seven millionth) off that.  As for the royal family, if it saves a bob or two, we should use cardboard cut-outs.  Do away with parliament (the buildings), and let them set-up a marquee in westminster square - now that the demonstrators for peace have been evicted for making the place untidy.  It would certainly cut down on the excessive spendthrift nature of today’s governments.  As i'm always in 100% top-tip condition, i shouldn't have to contribute to the health service either!

There must be some other areas ripe for swingeing cuts?

Something else...

Oh yes, why are we paying so much extra on food when the profits are creamed off in bonuses?  Why not give small-holder farmers a decent slice of the gold-dust and at the same time reduce the cost of food, so the increasing poor can still afford nutritious fare.  We are, after all, supposedly living in enlightend civilised times.

Despite the increase in commodity prices, food companies are still raking in billions of annual profits.  So let's do away with supermarkets - apart from the co-ops.  All communities should be forced to grow their own food, erect fences around each postcode, to keep out -  or in - any trouble and simply use air-drops for occasional essential supplies and those times a swat team are required.  Naturally such aid would only be given to those who have paid their full tax whack, everyone else can simply stand by and watch behind electrified barbed-wire laser mounted fences.

Hm, what about the sewage system?  Dig up all the pipes.  Surely those in cities are subsidising those in rural areas who also have the same access to just as good a water and sewage system?

So that's the first swing of the fiscal-responsibility bat.  I presume the return swing should be aimed at those corporations claiming they're not making enough money so need to cost-cut (decimate the workforce) whilst paying less tax towards the country's coffers than one of their cleaners (allegedly), or less tax than someone on the minimum wage, whilst awarding themselves 7 or 8 figure sums.  Yes i know they're worth it, after all it takes a certain mentality and group-think to dream up money-making scheme after money-making scheme, gouging the maximum possible cash from the herd - sorry, "customer", without causing a rude awakening in the horde.

But before i continue straying wildly, why are 5.5 mn adults not working?  From reading headlines an assumption could be falsely reached that they are all "lazy work-shy layabout wastrels!"  Hardly factual, but hawks tend to tread warily around actual facts when defending the indefensible, somewhat reminiscent a vincent price character being forced to suck on something cross-shaped and garlicky!

So why aren't they working, and why do papers like the daily trail happily castigate the unworking trolls in the barbecuing glare of their readers early morning trembling espresso's  - like baiting growling lions by throwing rotten meat at them?  Plain and simply, money.

Not that many years ago, a brighter future seemed but a blinking dream away - twinned as it was with the threat of imminent nuclear annihilation.  A time when computers (all 5 of them) would herald so much free time, that people wouldn't know what to do.  That we'd all be working 1 day a week, not only to improve ourselves; but to galvanise society as a whole.  An event so grand in our evolution, it would shove humanity eagerly towards the next stage of development.

Quite.

Billions still starve, 1 in 7 of the worlds population live on less than $1 a day.  All the while the globes resources are continually plundered to provide those of us who can afford it with 20+ choices of everything, whilst a growing (small) band 'just can't manage' without their 10+ figure bank balances.  Millions die of preventable diseases.  Millions die from preventable industrial accidents, and let's not talk about the wars fuelled by weapons manufactured in less than a dozen countries, used in wars 99% of the worlds population don't want, couldn't be bothered with, but are expertly manoeuvred into some sort of side by the clarion calls of nationalism.

I believe i'm straying.  Back to the uk and the lazy bones.

Does their face fit?  Do they have the skills? Maybe not, or maybe there just aren't 5.5 million jobs in the country?  After all why pay someone a higher minimum wage, when you can outsource your now flexible and float-able off-shoots to greener luscious pastures with less wages to pay and less requirements when it comes to sacking time?

I noticed a change the other day, when making a call to one of the annoying companies i use.  Initially i couldn't quite put my finger on it.  Simply thinking that this is new, a well travelled and cambridge educated (drop-out) was now biding his time by phone-answering and waiting for the next torrent of abuse by an annoyed customer.  Until somewhere during the course of the conversation his south african lilt finally pierced my perception, and language recognition finally kicked in.  South africa is still a functioning country - despite many who said it would tumble into a bonfire of flames; and whilst it might be party to less stringent labour rules, there's a strong possibility it has cheaper labour costs than mumbai.

At the same time that particular penny melted, so did the recognition my monthly subscriptions hadn't reduced to reflect this change (as cost and cheapness is king once a business grows past the 'mom & pop' stage), that it started me wondering where all those fiscal savings, which are now been made, were been shovelled?

I hearby stick my digit in the air and admit to a slight error in my earlier reading of the poll sampling numbers.  It wasn't, as i indicated earlier in this ramble, a sample size of 2,203 but actually 2,022; the percentages however remain the same.  An area the piece failed to include, which would have been interesting, is where on the disappearing(!) strata of the classless society ruler did the respondents hail from?

A comment from the usa i read in the trial summed it up succinctly:

"There is very little decent paid work left in the UK now. "Globalization' has put pay to the UK being any way productive. China, India have been given it all. The skills needed have now gone and are lost. Aspirations and ambition are things of the past, like hard work, how can 'hard work' be a means to anything when most of that earned money is taken in taxes to pay for the army employed by the state and local 'authorities' and the remaining wages keep people in poverty? Idiots who shout out "I'd work for nothing because I'm proud" are missing the point. You work to live. There is nothing clever about being a slave. 21st century UK is a disgrace. Over 30 years the dole culture has been allowed to grow because the politicos know the real harsh truth that UK is finished economically. I hear 'training' mentioned. Training for what exactly? Or do they mean those open New Deal prison schemes to 'punish' the unemployed and line the pockets of the private rogues operating them. Appalling."

Gambino, USA, 21/5/2011 03:54

"If there's not a revolution soon, we'll all just end up in the drink."

The number of job hunters to jobs here in the uk is purportedly put at 37:1.  What's the betting that if such a move was ever implemented, that orange-suited compliance would be the preferred solution of the day; by those whose idea of a hard time is the bother of finding a crease in their favourite shirt.

I can categorically (ahem, cough) state, my head was in an acid bath for the period as i was trying to clean my tongue,  and so played no part in such a silly poll.  It's not my fault i have to lay around around all day with my feet up sipping gin through a straw!  That's just no fun at all, let me tell you.

Bringing light to the eating of cardboard

I do hope you've pooped your daily allowance of cardboard - and i'm not talking about those dry bran cereals - but actual refined wood pulp, otherwise known as microcrystalline cellulose.

When you browse the aisles, picking through the plethora of vitamin supplementation, do you pounce on the bottle of vitamins that contains in it's ingredients list, the term 'refined wood pulp', or do you plump for the far more scientific sounding term (and so must be good for you) 'microcystalline cellulose'?

What sort of wood pulp? Freshly hewn from virginal forest wood pulp? Recycled wood pulp that had been used by those unfortunate not to have permanent shelter for years kind of wood pulp?  Wormy wood pulp?

Just wood pulp.  Hmm, more roughened and crumpled paper with my steak please.

End of the count

Well 24 hours after the rapture, it's all looking a bit too depressingly similar!

Yippee!

Now if i could only think of something that could make me $74 mn, by just opening my mouth and spouting nonsense... how many minutes to go until the 21st december 2012?

Beglad

Taking a break from studying - especially as headphones are now permanently attached - i had a sound abuse itch that required scratching; so in best copy and paste mode i popped together 'beglad' over the weekend. 

Compared to the other motley tracks i've cobbled together over the past months, this one's a smidgeon (a miniscule smidge mind) improved - with the proviso it's listened through headphones. 

Eventually, i'll listen to my output through speakers or even decent headphones.  Until that day arrives, be warned.  Listening through speakers over headphones is only recommended for the brave, or (for those like myself) the foolhardy.

You can find this little ear-bleeder in the reverbnation widget on the right hand side.

Now onto other matters... nick clegg in it again, bees making a comeback, eurovision nightmares, politician in fiddling drama as strad goes missing... 

Missing things

A wedding and an assassination?

Damn that thames mudbank.

I have nothing against or for royalty, they are after all royal by the appointment of the imaginary sky being and so have nothing at all to do with any underhand skulduggery, wars, plots, machinations, or even schemes.  Plus it's always good to have new blood pumped into a family, otherwise it's simply a re-run of the "hills have eyes."

Ah yes assassinations.  After trillions spent bombing the blazes out of two countries, allowing the priceless destruction of antiquities, imprisoning thousands, monitoring our every move for the sake of our security, allowing the tainting of a wide-spread of people, trampling over cultural sensibilities; all of a sudden when it comes to osama bin laden, they get all coy and pay an obsequious nod to traditions by undertaking a burial (or dunking) at sea.  

Did they stick him in a gun turret, or a torpedo tube and pop him out that way?  

The pendulum.

The tides of spring

It has been a while, and i tried stuffing my head in a pillow, in a thames mud-bank, but all to no avail; everywhere i looked, nature was at it.

Rampantly going at it, hell for leather, hammer ‘n tongs, the precursor acts of next-generation off-spring production – and that’s just some of the residents!

Yes, i was once more loitering by the door and sipping on a spoonful of something which, at a distant juncture probably did resemble and taste like coffee, but now had more in keeping with old saloon bar floors (thank you red mountain clone), but definitely minding my own business – apart from cocking an ear to the wind for a passing bus crash, or low flying police chase ‘copter, or even for the tell-tale whine of hi-velocity gun shots, it’s that sort of town.

That wasn’t to be.  Instead my vision was spoilt by lacrymal bluetits perched on a branch within spitting distance, chirping and chirruping without any type of documentation, molesting one another there and then in full light of day without so much as a bird-box attempt at modesty!

It made me pine for a catapult, or even a small trebuchet.  Indeed, anything which would have put an end to such needless displays of sexual proliferation – the penalty of having a couple of light years distance and 180º degree turnaround from my previous existence.

The bluetits on their own would have been bad enough.  But no, nature has to continue poking its rear-end in to my face, oblivious to the fact that i’m gouging my eyes out whilst screaming “bugger off!”

The bluetits are soon followed by pigeons who are coo-ing, billing and mounting each other like the apocalypse is just around the corner – due to a bill about to become law stating that all rubbish must be bagged, covered, and disposed of upon penalty of, or else.  Even the neighbours cat has started licking my fingers whenever I bend down to stroke it, then poking it’s bottom in to the air, purring and happily growling.  Then when I walk away, it digs it’s claws in to me as if to say, “where do you think your going? You haven’t even started yet!”

So yes spring is well and truly in the air, the saps rising and bouts of humping merry making will continue in earnest.  After all, lots of people are going to be very very busy getting the population up to and past that 10bn mark.

Runny choc-pennies

Amongst the bark – deadwood

Mono refractions

Sunny days

It’s a wonderful gorgeous sunny day outside; luckily i have the curtains closed and the windows open a crack to let as little of it in as possible.

Roll on winter.

Old brains new technology

Eventually it had to happen, there's nothing worse than squinting at a screen pressing the wrong button, and not realising for hours.

Obviously there's a need for bigger glasses, as there's nothing nothing worse than posting something that's nowhere near cocked.

London Buses trial new equipment to tackle air pollution (according to tfl)

There’s a bigger picture here that i really must be missing, perhaps even a dot or two which have obviously whizzed past my obliviousness.

Especially when i read the following statement:

“We are making huge strides in cleaning up the Capital's bus fleet, not least by developing the New Bus for London, which will pump out 40 per cent less pollutants than a standard, traditional diesel bus. “

Boris Johnson, Mayor of London, http://www.tfl.gov.uk/corporate/media/newscentre/19803.aspx

For those residents unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity of a bus stands, i wholeheartedly apologise if the above statement caused you to burst out laughing whilst sipping a cup of coffee, causing you to spray the contents across the room, which unfortunately arced over poor tiddles who jumped back in fright, hitting the wall a split second after the liquid hit the power socket, leaving you now sadly tiddled poor.  It was not my intention.  From the statement, we do though appear to occupy a different universe from those making the pronouncements and dreaming up the plans. 

I’m sure if drivers switched their engines off instead of leaving them ticking over for 5-20+ minutes at a time: spring, summer, autumn or winter; a large 40 per cent bit of those freely floating carcinogenic particulates would be spared finding a lung or two to nest in.  But that would mean managers and directors actually doing something really er., uhm, oh pro-active?  Like some sort of study (for once), to actually find out why they’re getting complaints from people living in the vicinity of stands and why the levels of pollution in the vicinity of stands/neighbouring roads are higher than normal for far more days of the year than other areas bar airports or ports.

Somewhere down the line, i might have mentioned a nagging doubt regarding the environmental trumpeting by tfl of their wonderful green credentials and the chummy back-patting at the annual bus awards.   They should instead introduce a ‘polluter of the year’ award for the most offending garage, manager and driver; i believe there are at least six in this locale who’d be in with a high chance of taking first place.

In the meantime, for those residents in the immediate vicinity of bus stands (remember not the stops, just the stands for now) and in london, here’s a very little helpful ditty which crossed my polluted paws…

 

March of the horse’nuts

Yes it’s that time of year again, when the horse-chestnuts are leafing, rising and growing with gusto and all still in the same pot.

This year a few extra layers of soil was added to keep them sufficiently bedded, and a good few litres of nutrients to compensate for the cramped conditions; but here’s the current progress in a few shots.

19th April 2011 – update

I decided to take some measurements to see how well they’ve come on (or not considering the sized pot they’re all in), and how long they’ll have to live before expiring, if not separated.

There are: 2 @ ~100cm, 2 at ~60cm, 2 at ~30cm and a straggler hovering around the 20cm mark; all measurements taken from the top of the soil.  The pot itself measures 34.5 cm inner diameter with a depth of 34.5cm, not exactly spacious for seven trees, but they haven’t died yet.   Now I just need to find a local group of ninja gardeners who’d know what do with at least five of them.

Strike 1 - census office

The much trumpeted last ever census ever to be conducted in the uk, because the country's too poor ever to attempt it again, promptly arrived on 27th March 2011.

Being an online-hawk (albeit with small wings that periodically furiously flap), I decided to complete the form on net a couple of days after receiving everything in the post, and well before the cut-off date which was officially highlighted in bold if my memory is to be believed.

I didn't, however, click that final submit button, as I had no idea whether anyone would be staying here at any time ever again, let alone overnight on the 27th March 2011.  The likelihood was no-one, but if forced to answer by having a pair of hot-tongs waved in front of my face, i'd have probably indicated whilst sweating profusely that the probability was 99.9999999% that no one would be.  In reality it turned out i was 100% correct, I was indeed here;  but at the time, a few weeks before the deadline, I didn't know; and wanting to be a dutiful citizen I specifically - especially after reading the blurb which said you could complete as much as possible, and then whatever you had filled in but not yet committed would be used as your answer - waited, before even thinking about pressing the 'button'.  A button presumably put there for clairvoyants.

So everything was filled in.  Apart from that bit, because I didn't know. After all it wasn't the 27th.

The 28th arrived.  I went, 'bugger!'

Imagine my surprise then when, on the 13th April 2011 (yesterday), whilst cursing my environment, the doorbell sprang into life.

Normally, after picking up the intercom, you're either blasted by wailing shrieks, squeaks, whistles or pops, as the "saw them coming" system on the one hand attempts to connect both ends via different communications protocols and magnificently fails, to the other of pretending it's not really a working system, and showers you in silence.

I knew something was up when I heard a crystal clear and chirpy voice pipe through the wires saying, "I'm sharna from the census office.  We don't have a record of you completing the census."

"What?" I retorted.  Thinking they're happy allowing their underlings to poison you, but don't fill in a form and its "oh, we'll be down on you like a truck of cement as obviously you're a naughty citizen, you, yes you!"

"I'm from the census office.  We haven't received your form."

"I filled it in online."

"You filled it in online?"

Oh and a parrot.

"Yes."

"Okay", a brief moment of hesitancy aimlessly drifted before the official sprang back to life.  “I'll mark it down then," and she was gone.

This was all undertaken via an intercom which normally decides it's not going to co-operate.  Think of the lifts in the hitchhikers guide, but far less friendly for most of the time.

Moral?  Always take a a hammer to something electro-mechanical, it saves fretting about it turning into skynet01.

The big bailout scam « Political Economy 101

"Meanwhile, the trillions poured into the big banks since 2008, instead of going to cash-starved small business or being used to build infrastructure and to create jobs, have largely helped fuel a new stock market bubble. The extraordinary rise in the value of companies such as Facebook and Zynga provides a worrying parallel with the dotcom bubble of 2000."

The big bailout scam « Political Economy 101

Moving on

The only thing worse than a whiner is a whiner who never shuts up.

So enough with the self-obsessed navel gazing.  It’s time to dig out the crystal and see what the remaining 3/4’s of the year has to offer…  damned tumbleweeds, get everywhere!

Neighbours of noise or simply noise averse?

When you briefly experience the wonderful peace and alacrity of quietness (don’t worry i’ll return to form shortly), it’s worth bearing in mind that unless you’re in a retreat - which is bored into the side of a mountain - that peace is just the minute gap before the next oncoming tide of a skyscraper-sized noise tsunami; especially when it involves fillies just out from uni and moving into their first flat together.

Heavy footfalls, high heels, stomping around, lots of ‘mates over’ are now de rigueur.  Which wouldn’t normally be a problem except in those (i.e., this) flat/house conversions, which once had luscious carpet covering the bareness but which greedy landlords ripped out, leaving exposed floorboards that people flock and ‘coo’ over, admiring the fact that they ‘look so pretty’, ignoring what doesn’t lay beneath.

Naturally provisions exist in leases precisely to alleviate this problem (generally), except when the vast majority of people are either unaware the problem their usually simple everyday noise is creating exists, or the issue is not brought to their attention; as opposed to any wilful or malicious intent.

So when you bring it to their attention, verbally and or formally, and the noise continues, you begin to wonder whether there’s more going on than an element of unawareness.  Perhaps it’s simply the case they don’t give a damn and further actions are nothing less than wilful maliciousness. 

A tedious probability?  As iterated to in the title; is it neighbours who are been noisy or am i just been overly sensitive?

Figures indicate that at least 95,000 (after doing a bit of research my previous use of 2 mn appears wildly wide of the uk mark and it should have been covering the  eu) people, have an issue with noise and noisy neighbours, severe and pressing enough that after spending years of battling, grinds them into moving for the sake of their health.  Because as satisfying as fighting your corner is, every now and then there comes a time when you ponder why you’re still bashing your head against a brick wall.  Then as dizziness caused by exsanguination starts to take its toll, you realise the two-steps towards resolution you thought you were making, actually turns out to be you moving backwards, at a rapid rate of knots.  It’s just the flashing change of scenery which has confused you.

I’m one of those stubborn folk – something which happens when you live next to an increasingly noisy venue, and next to a stand with an increasing number of buses utilising the stand without drivers switching off their engines, and now with added noisy neighbour icing; that you either throw your hands in the air, give up and move on, or fiercely dig your heels in (as opposed to down - as the current clippity-clopping neighbours above are prone to do) and say enough really is enough. 

Everything (on paper at least) says this shouldn’t be happening.  So why have other leaseholders simply let things slide?  Because it’s easier than putting up a struggle.  Especially when it seems to be an on-going struggle with seemingly no end in sight. 

Yet, one resident who has dug his heels in over a compactor placed against the party wall (somehow allowed by the council) has managed to have it removed.  Yes, an industrial sized rubbish compactor that members of staff at the venue and its operators took extreme pleasure in assuring caused as much physically noise as possible – bar bashing it into the wall, was placed within touching distance of flats, and neither they nor the council could understand that residents had a problem with it.

When it comes to the care of resident’s hearing and ability to get a decent nights sleep, it seems conservative run boroughs (from the evidence so far) appear to stand miles above labour or liberal run boroughs – which is odd, considering how much we’re constantly bombarded with the message that labour councils are for the people – which i suppose they are, except when it comes to residents managing to obtain a good nights sleep.

Now the problem with many british flats, homes and apartments is that way too many of them were built at a time when it was the genteel thing to generally not carry on unless you lived in the slums - where that sort of behaviour was expected.  Over the years slum areas were destroyed and re-built with better looking but still (by today's sound standards) crummy sound considerations, where anything over and beyond the sound of brushing your teeth’s magnified to a point where simon bates would be using a pile-driver and not a knife.

In today's world, many in the west would like to think we’re remarkably  civilised, yet reality shows the law of the jungle and a dog-eat-dog mentality is in force, well, and flourishing greater than ever.

For those of a mind to know more, noise action week is rapidly approaching.

Nothing ever changes

Meeting, chatting, shooting the breeze and going out, i.e. dating are things which have interested me less and less;  so much so i’m now roughly 95% (give or take a percentage point) different in my social and even personal behaviour, which is odd, as nothing ever changes!

Perhaps i haven’t stopped smoking 40 a day, nor drinking half a brewery, nor clubbing from dawn until dusk and having more encounters in a week than people had in year.  No, if parallel universes do exist i probably haven’t stopped doing any of those pleasurable (at the time) things at all, but which now - in this particular theoretical brane at any rate, no-longer holds any alluring interest.  Which can’t be, as that indicates that a change, a definite change - as i no longer do any of those things, has taken place in this one. 

Day does not turn into night.  The movement of the planet’s atmosphere is not occurring because the earth isn’t spinning and neither are there hot nor cold areas as every area’s the same.  Because nothing ever changes.  Indeed I can’t be typing this as that would imply some chemical and or mechanical changes must be taking place to bring this about, which can’t be, as nothing ever changes, so therefore it isn’t. 

Indeed you, my dear reader can’t be a reader, as reading  this would once again infer something (in this case photons) are changing in their position, hitting your retina and causing electrical changes to be transmitted through nerve endings to the chemical goop encased in your cranium, or being transformed (changed) into signals which are then electrically transmitted (electrons changing in position) as sound.  All indicating some type of process, which would surely mean some sort of change was or is or has taken place?

No of course not, as nothing ever changes. 

Everything remains the same and we’re not in an expanding universe because the big bang never happened - as shown by this momentary fevered dalliance with reality, which is nothing more than the idle burp of some sleeping deity; which can’t be the case, as that too would indicate something has changed, and as we know, nothing ever changes, so the above assumptions are simply just nonsense, which is itself a change so therefore cannot be true.

We’re born (which we really can’t be as that too would involve change) with exactly the same ideas that we cling onto as we grow and mature (but how can that be if we never change), until we reach some mythical point of existence to decide, or not, to pop out of this never changing, never expanding stage of being.  Which is never ever changing anyway because there is never any change.

Perhaps it’s a transformational phase? 

Next: noisy neighbours part i

Man the sound ‘parts!

Ah yes summer-time has arrived, the clocks have gone forward, easter’s nearly here and obtaining a decent nights sleep over a weekend (or even during the week) disappears up brixton academy’s chuff.

Yes, brixton academy is once more expelling audio fumes from its backside and causing sleepless nights to residents in the immediate vicinity… deploy the noise officers, who use a very strange subjective level of measurement (or they did until retirement set in), which would see a church paraded through the courts at the complaint and behest of a couple of people over a month or so; yet in this triangle complaints have been salvoed to the council for years and the only change (which i’ve perceived) is an increase in the deep bass frequencies we’re bombarded with, more events, and more of them finishing after midnight.

How loud?  See the many previous posts.

But when you wear ear-plugs which are then covered by headphones, through which one is listening to loud audio, and whilst unable to hear the clipity-clopping of neighbours above but can still hear music from the venue despite all windows & doors closed, then in my very small book of certainties, that classifies as loud!

This morning I discovered I wasn’t the only one who had come to the conclusion that the noise was extreme.  During the night other residents had also objected to the council.  Which makes me wonder about todays benefit.  If the venue produces more vibrations than the country experiences in a year, then (and i could be showing a cynical mind here) how is it capable of considerate action towards those unfortunate souls in the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear fall-out zones – with it simply not sounding like there’s a kerching sound attached?

Instead of paying £40 or more (with the touts in operation) to the greedy lot above, and partying over the deaths of thousands; contemplate on the randomness of it all, say a few words for them, and donate instead.

Godless tsunamis

So after the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear cloud making its way around the world, we now have a russian director saying god did it to them.


Not sure why god (unless it's an acronym for something far more sinister and other-worldly - as we’re being conditioned to believe anything otherworldy’s out to treat us as food - that's operating out of a quantum-bridged molehill somewhere), would decide the time was right to particularly smite the north-east japanese over, say, territory controlled by russian or italian mafia or colombian drug-lords, or even politicians - of most countries - or the billionaires fleecing the world economy and making the vast majority poorer by any stretch of inflationary hyperbole.

Indeed by that former stretch, nikita sergeevich mikhalkov imaginary smiting machine should by now have summoned forth a volcano the size of olympus mons, which in burping forth its damndest destroyed most of western europe (or at least the city of london), with yellowstone following close behind in its fiftieth year of birth-pangs.

We should i presume be lucky in counting nikita sergeevich mikhalkov imaginary smiting machine as indeed imaginary, otherwise this rock would now be a lifeless parchment of baked real-estate, circling a constantly enraged and broiling red star minus anything worthwhile to smite... oh i see, we're the smitebots!