UK energy policy?

According to the governement here in the uk, we (the plebs, proles, not them) all use far too much power, and as we're all complaining about prices we should therefore be growing thrifty and economical so ensuring we can go on using them long into our dottage.

I hope the same applies to all those business who have windows ablaze with lights, oh wait, as they all have money which is tax deductible, they can keep the lights burning more or less for as long as they wish.

But i fully agree, we should all do our bit and reduce the amount of power we use.   Sadly after checking the amount of power i use i really can't reduce my usage anymore...   Silly me, of course I can. 

Now, where did i put those twigs?

ASA

Someone really should put that toothless old dog down and out of its misery.

The asa.  

Truly protecting the industry's ability to fleece its customers since november 2004.

Idling TFL

A neighbour, in the battle against bus drivers utilising the bus stand outside who consistently refuse to switch off their engines, called me yesterday querying whether i'd seen that days' edition of the evening standard, and specifically page 25.

I said i hadn't.  Then launched myself at the site only to have them request all my details.  Which is odd, as i fail to recall being required to fill out personal details when picking up the evening standard in the real world, so i'm not sure i wish to be on the end of more unsolicited crap of the type that already litters my tray.  But the grand headline "turn off your engine: idling cabs targeted by eco-marshals", sounded just too good.

So it proved.  Reading the headline first-hand caused an immediate flurry of neurons to simultaneously explode whilst downing a glass of something chilled, either that or a small gathering of serotonin decided to begin kicking me innards.

Tucked away in the 6th paragraph of the article, they said "tfl is writing to coach, bus and freight operators asking them to encourage their drivers to switch off their engines while parked."

Asking them?

I suppose it's a start.

But, asking them?

Surely there's enough data now available, for example the 4,000+ people who die every year in the capital from pollution, that should make tfl not simply ask but demand that it happens; otherwise sub-contractors (and all their drivers) will have their licenses revoked and new companies brought in to operate services without killing the capitals populace, instead.

The cabbies response was to be expected as quintessential squeaking.  If tfl took the attitude of fining them and taking away their licenses - by getting residents on their side, perhaps drivers would soon find the off switch.

Naturally only time will tell whether this is more than a flash in tfl's long line of eco-virtual-pans.  If in six month's time pollution levels have improved, then i will  truly begin to remotely consider the hint of a possibility, they might finally have a success on their hands. 


Updated: 11:08

Oh dear, i've come across all happy

It's being one of those serendipitous starts to my day, which began by not been woken up by neighbours stomping around, or dropping things on the floor; which led me to peaceful thoughts of listening to a podcast podnutzatnight, where they all laughed uproariously and giggled furiously over a video they were watching during the making of the episode, about cone-ing; which i watched but didn't find that funny.  However, the slight smile i could feel twitching to escape from its box will no doubt mean that i'll have succumbed to similar bouts of hilarity by the third viewing.  But after that video had finished, one of those little video icons (which usually pop up underneath the replay button and which i usually ignore) had the machina logo which i hadn't seen before - or at least at this moment simply can't ever recall seeing, which for someone with a gnat like memory could have been any time from the start of the sentence to forever.  Firmly intrigued i clicked and popped over to the channel, where today they had the first outing of an exclusive new online series called rcvr.

The premise is-, well it's only on for 11 minutes and worth every second - in my opinion.  So instead of spoilers watch below or pop over there and watch.

It's good.  Especially at the end if you let the music wash all over you, very reminiscent of game of thrones.

Of course this is only the first episode and everything could go horribly downhill from here.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed, as all my favourite terrestrial shows are now well and truly dead.

The dreadful people

Someone enquired the other day how the neighbours are, after my scribblings on the subject appeared to peter out after the firm, but fair, letter i delivered a few months ago.

Well, on the music and knowing their favourite tv series front, they're generally well behaved, apart from the odd friday evenings pre-going out getting into the mood spin-ups.  They have instead increased the number of gatherings, dinner-do's and having friends over, who have taken if not to heavy foot-falling, then stomping around to such an extent that it's now possible to draw a sound-map of their abode and where they are, any time they're home.  I periodically pinch myself to see if i'm awake, in the hope that i'm stuck in some ground-hog experience and i'll remember the pain next time around.

Then there's the door slamming - which appears to be a popular pastime, regardless of whether it's 6.30am or 11.25pm.  If it can close, it can slam shut!  The same goes for drawers, kitchen cupboards and bathroom cupboards.  And why bother taking off heels (and I'm talking of the tenants here and not guests) when indoors, as you can galumph around for 45 minutes before realising you still have them on.

I did chat with with them, after I hadn't heard anything in relation to my missive, enquiring whether they'd actually received it or not.  I was looked at straight in the eye and told "yes, but we don't think we're making that much noise," and so by extension your tome, which we find rather amusing and show to friends with great hilarity, obviously isn't worth replying to.

Luckily everyone who pops in to my own abode, and experiences the levels of noise coming from upstairs, wonders why I put up with it.  Perhaps i'm not striking the right tone, and so my ministrations aren't taken seriously enough.  Or perhaps it's a mixture of all the above.  I rarely tend to the rottweiler type, preferring instead to let things slide over getting my teeth into screeching bone.  Whacking up the volume of the headphones until my ears complain before thinking "fuck it" time to turn on the speakers.

But as i write this on the 20th, 23rd, 26th August, 9th, 12th, 16th, 18th September 2011, it sounds like another gathering is in the offing, with associated  reverberating footsteps, and a litany of cries penetrating through the ceiling at an alarming deja vu rate and naturally there's never the whiff of a note or a quick tap saying "we're going to, or are, having a do.  You're not invited, it may be a bit noisy.  Hope you don't mind!"

Now, remember the only thing between their feet and my ears are their bare floorboards, joists, and my ceiling plasterboard with a sliver of painted wallpaper.  So when they have a gathering (as young socialites around town are prone to), which take place on regular intervals, just imagine the sounds from a cacophony of staccato heel & shoe wearers.

Over the past week I stopped indulging in those extra few seconds that it takes me to close a door, or lower a lid (as nothing in this place has a soft close option), i even stopped taking the time to gently place a magazine on the side, or close the lid to a small wooden box.  After all, why bother, when it's far easier simply allowing gravity or momentum to take their course and bring what ever is moving to a complete stop or halt, just like my erstwhile neighbours.

I must admit that it was quite an ear opener listening to the generated bangs and slams.  However the sound emanating from my abode appeared to stir up a hornets nest of excitement;  as they slammed and staccato stomped around with even greater energy than before.  So i too slammed and dropped, which despite being exceptionally childish in the extreme, actually relieved some of the pent-up angst, you can find yourself subsumed in when on the receiving end of inconsiderate neighbours.  Eventually they went out.

At least it's progress of a sort, they know that i can hear that they don't care.

Which means that before this childish puerile nonsense gets completely out of hand, it's time the management company did their job and actually enforced those bits of the lease which deal with this kind of nonsense.  Namely the fact that flats should have suitable covering, i.e., not bare floorboards.  Sadly they can't yet do anything about the dreadful people, that will have to run its course.  But i'm sure once covering does go down, there'll be even more banging, slamming, clanging, shouting, screaming and do's; but, maybe they might finally realise.

Oh joy.

I know that in the scheme of things this is naught but a boil in need of lancing; but that's the problem with boils (i've been led to believe), if they're handled incorrectly they can reach the stage of life-threatening septicaemia.

Satellite dingers

It was fun reading about the probability of being struck by bits of a falling satellite around the 24th September.  Apparently there's a greater chance of one of us being struck by some leftover non-burnt nor destroyed bits of the upper atmosphere research satellite, than there is of ever winning the uk lottery.

Risk of being struck by satellite: 1 in 3,000.

Chance of winning the euromillions lottery: 1 in  116,531,800.

Of course this comparison wasn't rigged.   Anyway, it's time for me to pop on the tin-hat, as with my current run of luck i'll strike out with a bolt.

Positivism

I was cheerfully informed the other day, that my usual sour pessimistic disposition seems to be lightening.  Of course it is, winter's coming. 

Stuff about nothing

It's always difficult knowing what to write: whether it's stuff straight from the heart (please, just call me a lump of lead) which generally grabs me, or stuff that's popular, quaint and in which i have as much interest as a bear mating with a chipmunk - not to say it's lacking, just that it's not for me.

Lets take the tv-series game of thrones.  I say series as the whole phenomenon took me by surprise having never read any of the books.  I used to enjoy reading fantasy novels and watching the travesties that passed for book-to-tv adaptations.  Then I stopped reading fantasy novels and stopped watching the adaptations, or even looking out for them.  Instead i  stuck to the one remaining leg of the "why am i paying for satellite?" stool, which was at the time the sci-fi channel.  Well that was the case, until si-fi decided to become anything but, by cancelling everything sci-fi-ish it could get its hands on.  This took place so often, that eventually i hurled my now worthless subscription (for that is what i viewed it as - for me you understand) out the window and onto the polluted hedge outside.

But those voices refused to shut up.  Week in, week out, people who knew i had forsworn broadcasts and all their poisonous ilk, kept on going on about it.

My natural reaction was to pooh-pooh the whole thing as the deluded ramblings of non-genre-ites, probably clambering aboard a relatively okay cgi produced bandwagon.  This lasted for about a month, until more people kept on mentioning this game of thrones, and just how good it was.

Eventually my curiosity was piqued and sturdy fortitude gave way to  "well, what's the harm in watching an episode?"

So i did.

And i was hooked.

The foaming of the "whatdaymeanitsfinished!!!!" kind of hooked, that has you thinking up decidely suitable punishments for tv executives everywhere, for either cancelling or making you wait a year before the next season starts - if you're lucky.  The last time a show had that slight effect was on hearing stargate universe had been cancelled, again by sigh-fi!  Not that g.o.t has anything to do with sy-fy, but the general tenet regarding execs remains.

But g.o.t had sweep, plot, acting, brilliant casting and bloody good cgi - apart from the dragons at the end.  A world which, if you allowed yourself to fully immerse into it's winter is coming mantra, had you hooked in its bleak, yet gorgeous, portrayals, wonderfully reminiscent of the superb lord of the rings (peter jackson version).

There was going to be a point, and something in this rambling bit of nonsense about lord of the rings - apart from fantastic - but this will have to do.

Etchings of a mental tide

"I was harbouring under the mistaken belief that my utterings splurged, rather than dribbled; more skittered than gushed.  Like a redolent faucet of misanthropic toilet paper, that wrapped my sub-consciousness in the latest bucket-load of crap exorcising the minds of news editors for the day, i realised - too late - that none of it really mattered. 

That, crystallised thought brought tears of hysteria jetting through dammed ducts; as the realisation all those smoky nights spent wringing an iota of meaning from writhing mountains of data, was for nought."

Losing the zone

Another peek into the arena people classify as humour. 

Puerile humour to boot, but still humour.

The future

A better future for us all, on this most poignant of days.


I finally found a clip which sums up my thoughts on not only the events that took place a decade ago, but all the other wars and atrocities that have been and sadly will be.

Torchwood

I don't like the new torchwood season (number four), i absolutely love it; more gritty, less campy, a few more pennies spent on its production, a nice fusion of actors and for those people saying its just "way tooo gay" (watch the previous seasons and realise what it is you decided to jump onto, and grow a pair.

I'd go so far as to say, if you don't like what someone else has done with their imaginary sci-fi worlds, then don't watch, you're not being forced to you can vote with your feet and build your bloody own!

One reason i believe this season's proved an enjoyable wheeze (despite more contriveness than a banker trying to explain why he's worth it), stems from the improved production quality, an increase in the depth and feel of scenes (probably more space for the sets) and the one area that absolutely ruins (for me at any rate) a show, that tosses me out of the zone of escapism more than anything else, the unruly extras.  

This season they appear to have reined in the unruly mob.  Done away with extras laughing when they're supposedly running away in fear of their lives, or extras seemingly been told one of the funniest jokes ever while their supposedly  milling in stunned groups at the end of everything they know. 

Not that i claim the season is 100% perfect.  At the end of episode one, the helicopter chase shoot-down scene, although good, sadly missed the spot and fell (no pun) wide of the mark.  After gwen hoists and fires the rocket launcher (bringing the chopper down) the proportions of the approaching machine to the jeep, in those brief few frames, appeared a tad out.  That said, i still managed to enjoyably watch the whole episode three more times before finally feeling satiated.

A very good, you could almost say, re-birth of the series.  Despite finding the harkness tone-down slightly niggling, when compared to other seasons - as by the second batting of an eye-lid jack would have flirted with all the staff and the extras to boot. Which makes those whiners complaining about the odd peek is gob-smacking.

I can safely say that i look forward to torchwood far more than the candy flossed dr who - may that too live for-ever, as it provides a slightly more darker outing than most (if not all other) sci-fi shows currently doing the rounds - well the ones that i've seen so far that is.

Making the cross

"Homos are more dangerous than terrorists," claims the oklahoma house of  representative, sally kern.

Let me roll that around my tongue for a bit.  Homos, are more dangerous, than terrorists.

No doubt that is the case in her universe.  In this one she appears to have skidded past those natural same-sex pairings which do take place in the rest of the animal kingdom, thinking they're probably nothing more than demon animals brought forth from the bowels of lucifers darkest nether regions, to bring down the remaining members of the good flocks.

I don't think i've heard ms kern wax lyrically about how many americans (or even earthers) guns have killed, or bombs, or weapons in general, or even the two nuclear bombs dropped on japan, or the wars in europe, or the wars in afghanisatian, iraq, the genocide in darfur, the crap manufacturers fill our food with, or the crap food they sell, or how many people have being killed from pollution, killed by cars, cigarettes, drink or by her big palls in the pharma industry.  Nothing about them, it's just the homos who are the bug-bears in the eye of this lunatic.

She goes on to say, "it (queerness) will tear down the moral fibre of this nation. We were founded as a nation upon the principles of religion and morality, if we take those out from under our society we will lose what has made us a great nation..."   Perhaps the dear lady has being living under a rock for the past few decades and missed her history lessons.  But being founded via committing genocide and built using enslaved labour is hardly a base to trumpet a claim for great morality. 

This has as much to do with morality as my big spreading backside has to do with eating a green salad.  It smacks of nothing more than a vacuous hole, used as a short cut by any passing breeze - no offence dear, this is only a biased myopic opinion on some of the stuff i've read that you've uttered.

The one thing i do get from this, after taking another cursory glance through the book and noting references, is that if jesus were around now he'd rather be a down and out bum than mix with this shower of crap shooters; people who do more harm in his or any other religious deity's name she may be using (taking the 2000+ years they've been at it), than anything other than death itself.

Simply light-hearted

Mozilla have a fun little quiz, visually displaying how from your questions it appears you approach the web. 

For some reason mine contains too many travelling and mobile implements for my liking, there was obviously a glitch.

webifyme

Harmless, fun (choke), and what better way for you to wile away those precious few minutes - enjoying (cough) just you time.

Letting the wasp have it!

Having been pried from my very cosy cell to the outside world for tea and a chat, by a friend (who’s an excellent photographer and even greater witterer), but who sensibly passed over my offer for lunch for better fare - due to his later visit to a temple -, meant that after i’d finished tucking into a few legs of freshly spiced chicken, as luck would have it a wasp discovered the plate, and started to heartily tuck in too.  

Ordinarily the “it’s a wasp, bat it,” reaction would have kicked in, bugger the possibility of being on the receiving end of a very hundred stings; but on this occasion i just sat, in fact we both just sat and watched it, whilst continuing out conversation.  If it did venture too close, then we slightly edged back until it re-commenced attacking the chicken.

The upshot is two pics below (before and after) taken using friend's motorola d-something.

Tfl press releases and envrironmental emissions

I was consuming a bowl of freshly made carrot & coriander soup, when half of it jettisoned across my clean shiny table.

The reason?  Simple, a press release from tfl regarding the output of their buses.  I'm not sure what type of buses these are or which routes they operate on, but the claim was tantamount to saying, "your nuclear melt-down is 1% worse than my nuclear melt-down."

To which the quote:

"...operating one of the cleanest fleets in Europe, London leads the way by trialling new technology, introducing more environmentally friendly hybrid and hydrogen buses to meet tough EU targets which will protect the health of Londoners."
Mike Weston, London Buses Operations Director

It was at the: "protect the health of londoners" bit, that my soup jettisoned, as it was extremely difficult mangling those words (as wonderful and fantastic as they environmentally sounded) together with our parallel unfolding experience here, and trying to work out exactly which universe the quote referred to; as the only time our health is protected in the vicinity of this bus stand, is christmas day, when there are no damned buses.

So i say again, that perhaps members of tfl management, or even mr weston, would care to pop down to our little stand (naturally under cover and not making a song & dance production about it), but an anonymous trip, over three separate periods to see how environmentally unaware and incontinently incapable their foot-soldiers (whom i'm sure are really nice people outside of working hours) appear to be.

Memories of the days

Bootboysgoonforever's

Enough nostalgia...




and for some memorial work...

Ear climbing

As a slow moving dinosaur, it took a while to realise something was scurrying up my neck and over my ears...

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!"