Sunday, 24 January 2016
Thursday, 21 January 2016
Pollution merchants.
There are one or more motifs quite close to my increasingly blackened lungs, that i might have mentioned from time to time. Pollution, check. Particulates, check. Noise, check…. So much so that i quite often feel like a broken record, and a particularly annoying one at that.
But you reach a stage when something has to be done, once your friends start to look increasingly askance at you, subtly implying the issue must surely have being resolved by now? I'm sure those people bent over the pollution desk at who, probably feel the same way too. And if they don't, then why bloody not?
It's odd really. On current form humanity is turning out to be just like those science experiments so many of us undertook in our more formative years, and many of those who are currently in their formative years still do, of bacteria growing in a petri-dish. Finite resources, finite energy, only so many hospitable places to live without over running and dying off. But unlike the bacteria we know what potential pitfalls are awaiting us, if we continue down the path that's been taken. Yet so many are still quite happy to put on blinkers waiting to be whisked away in a funnel, or drowned wondering why you can bring a snowball indoors.
It wasn't that long ago that more people started living in, than out of urban environments. All those cars, vans, lorries, buses, aeroplanes, motorcycles, tankers, ships, warships, fighter jets, rockets, bombs, rpg's, satellite launches, mining, pigs, cows, gas burning, electricity production and usage, production of food, transporting food, processing all the waste, waste of food, sewage systems, and fracking are all producing their own bits of pollution, every second of every day, by the thousands, millions, hundreds of millions. So when someone says that humanity's not having any impact, just remember that little list, pick one item, and use it to beat them around the head with.
Back to who. Before the new figures on air quality land on the desks of concerned citizenry everywhere (at least for those living in the 2,000 or so cities that'll be classified as perilous hell-holes for human habitation), who director (dr maria neira) of the department of public health, environmental and social determinants of health basically said, if i can condense her comments into a couple of words, we're fucked!
Imagine if all the conflicts around the world were concentrated into one large-ish area and 7 million people on the losing side were summarily executed in a day? There'd be an outcry. Coalitions coalesce, jihads would be screamed from the tallest minarets. Allies and axis' would form, and before you realised it trillions would be spent as the world beat with one, or probably four, calls to end it – naturally both sides would be given advantageous bank lending rates – until it became crystalline clear which side was going to win, then they'd call the debts in. Currently, however, as with many things which take place and who they mainly impact (baring global extreme calamity), the vast majority of the potential dead and dying will be concentrated amongst the marginalised poor. Those who have to work for employers whose only concerns are about how many filters they can crank out before they're carried out in just a larger box. The skivers. The enemies within, daring to look towards houses filled with filters made of gold; whether in delhi, beijing, new york, or london,
According to the eu public health portal, the annual number of deaths in the region from smoking is approx 700,000. The who's eu estimate on premature deaths from all the other crap we're cheerfully chucking up in the air? That will be 600,000. Of course, it doesn't say if all of those people were lifelong non-smokers; but, that's plenty of citizens who don't put cancer sticks (as an ex-smoker i claim my right to the word use) in their mouths, who prematurely die every year from the rubbish being purposefully dumped into the atmosphere. That's roughly 578,000 more people than are killed in the usa each year, and that's with their particular fondness of guns with everything.
More than half the worlds human population live in urban settings. By 2030, or in 5,095 days time, the global urban pollution will swell to 5 billion from the current 4 billion (a very rough estimate). So just think of your own current sprawling city, or town, and plop in a quarter more people – again roughly. How would your transportation system, health, education systems cope? How will you cope? Smaller places, longer queues, those long thought dystopian idylls of shoe-boxes for homes? If our city air's crap and killing us now, what will it be like in 14 years?
For example, as i sit here (not quite furiously tapping away), at any one time over 21 hours a day there are a number of buses each weighing 11+ tons, anywhere from 9 to 30 ft away. The drivers leave their vehicles engines in one of the following phases – in order of popularity: running, idling revving, off. The drivers (oh you have no idea how much i'm looking forward to driver-less buses) can remain at the stand for anything from a couple of minutes to 20 minutes, and that's 21 hours a day, every day. Of course with a mixture of buses from helicopter-bus-ships, to hybrid-noise-storms there's no end to the delights this little stretch of road dishes out on a regular basis.
I still assert that earlier buses were designed by someone, or a group of someones, who's experience of a bus ended, when they finally grew out of their favourite tonka toy collection phase. But surely after the buses were built, did no one deem it necessary to test them on roads and streets where people actually lived? At least then, the possibility of listening to a bloody bus sounding more like a helicopter parked 9ft from a window, followed by drivers revving their engines and bibbing their horns, slamming doors and emergency exits in faux maintenance walks, would hopefully have created some sort of a spark in someone with a few more spare brain-cells than the average, and caused them to ponder "just how will people react with all that noise and racket at 2am, or 5am, or any other times the things are in close proximity to them? Hm, i wonder!"
From my interactions with tfl, i've come to the conclusion they view the bus department as more of an annoyance. A horrid burden they have to endure, over the wonderful grandiose delights offered by running the tube network; with those glorious sweeping entrances, arched halls, and historic stations.
It probably went like this. At some stage the bus department failed to get the attention the other departments had managed to seize; and so when it came to procuring new buses they grumbled, grudgingly and said “yea, they'll do,” and so the helicopters which drivers think are good fun not to switch off, and tfl would rather not think about, or act on, were born. And in time they spread far and wide, throughout the residential land. Causing grief to anyone unfortunate to think that double or triple-glazing would surely be enough to keep the offending noise away from delicate ears.
A long example i know. But just imagine for a moment imagine, across london there are thousands of the red buggers all at it; despite tfl saying “they shouldn't be doing that. It will be stopped… They will be disciplined… They don't do it, it has been stopped… Is it still going on?"
If tfl, an authority so vaunting of its green credentials and respect for neighbourhoods, fails so dismally, and is incapable of policing it's own operators and drivers, then how will humanity, in any significant number do anything in time to ensure there's a world fit to live in? And don't forget the new watered down aim of cop 21 is to limit any temperature rise to 2 degrees celsius, but aspire to keep any rise to under 1.5. It'll be lucky if the rise remains under double figures.
You might just wonder why i'm somewhat skeptical of our ability to really knuckle down, and forge our way out of this slowly unfurling disaster. Apart from the attitude of tfl, people in general. A few months ago, over food and drinks, conversation with friends turned to money spent on shopping and where to shop. I brought up a shop called the 99p store, which I frequent for household cleaning materials. For those who don't know, it was a retail outlet where most things were going for 99 pence, more often than not for less - until it was acquired by their more aggressive competitors, the £1 shop (otherwise known as poundland). So we argued about the relative merits, until the nugget was boiled down to an issue of pride. Simply put, they would rather travel somewhere and pay £3 for an item instead of 99p at the store, as the 99p store was just far too down-market for them. If you multiply that and similar attitudes across the billions of inhabitants, then where do you see things heading?
As dr maria neira might well possibly say in an unguarded private moment, “we're fucked!”
But you reach a stage when something has to be done, once your friends start to look increasingly askance at you, subtly implying the issue must surely have being resolved by now? I'm sure those people bent over the pollution desk at who, probably feel the same way too. And if they don't, then why bloody not?
It's odd really. On current form humanity is turning out to be just like those science experiments so many of us undertook in our more formative years, and many of those who are currently in their formative years still do, of bacteria growing in a petri-dish. Finite resources, finite energy, only so many hospitable places to live without over running and dying off. But unlike the bacteria we know what potential pitfalls are awaiting us, if we continue down the path that's been taken. Yet so many are still quite happy to put on blinkers waiting to be whisked away in a funnel, or drowned wondering why you can bring a snowball indoors.
It wasn't that long ago that more people started living in, than out of urban environments. All those cars, vans, lorries, buses, aeroplanes, motorcycles, tankers, ships, warships, fighter jets, rockets, bombs, rpg's, satellite launches, mining, pigs, cows, gas burning, electricity production and usage, production of food, transporting food, processing all the waste, waste of food, sewage systems, and fracking are all producing their own bits of pollution, every second of every day, by the thousands, millions, hundreds of millions. So when someone says that humanity's not having any impact, just remember that little list, pick one item, and use it to beat them around the head with.
Back to who. Before the new figures on air quality land on the desks of concerned citizenry everywhere (at least for those living in the 2,000 or so cities that'll be classified as perilous hell-holes for human habitation), who director (dr maria neira) of the department of public health, environmental and social determinants of health basically said, if i can condense her comments into a couple of words, we're fucked!
Imagine if all the conflicts around the world were concentrated into one large-ish area and 7 million people on the losing side were summarily executed in a day? There'd be an outcry. Coalitions coalesce, jihads would be screamed from the tallest minarets. Allies and axis' would form, and before you realised it trillions would be spent as the world beat with one, or probably four, calls to end it – naturally both sides would be given advantageous bank lending rates – until it became crystalline clear which side was going to win, then they'd call the debts in. Currently, however, as with many things which take place and who they mainly impact (baring global extreme calamity), the vast majority of the potential dead and dying will be concentrated amongst the marginalised poor. Those who have to work for employers whose only concerns are about how many filters they can crank out before they're carried out in just a larger box. The skivers. The enemies within, daring to look towards houses filled with filters made of gold; whether in delhi, beijing, new york, or london,
According to the eu public health portal, the annual number of deaths in the region from smoking is approx 700,000. The who's eu estimate on premature deaths from all the other crap we're cheerfully chucking up in the air? That will be 600,000. Of course, it doesn't say if all of those people were lifelong non-smokers; but, that's plenty of citizens who don't put cancer sticks (as an ex-smoker i claim my right to the word use) in their mouths, who prematurely die every year from the rubbish being purposefully dumped into the atmosphere. That's roughly 578,000 more people than are killed in the usa each year, and that's with their particular fondness of guns with everything.
More than half the worlds human population live in urban settings. By 2030, or in 5,095 days time, the global urban pollution will swell to 5 billion from the current 4 billion (a very rough estimate). So just think of your own current sprawling city, or town, and plop in a quarter more people – again roughly. How would your transportation system, health, education systems cope? How will you cope? Smaller places, longer queues, those long thought dystopian idylls of shoe-boxes for homes? If our city air's crap and killing us now, what will it be like in 14 years?
For example, as i sit here (not quite furiously tapping away), at any one time over 21 hours a day there are a number of buses each weighing 11+ tons, anywhere from 9 to 30 ft away. The drivers leave their vehicles engines in one of the following phases – in order of popularity: running, idling revving, off. The drivers (oh you have no idea how much i'm looking forward to driver-less buses) can remain at the stand for anything from a couple of minutes to 20 minutes, and that's 21 hours a day, every day. Of course with a mixture of buses from helicopter-bus-ships, to hybrid-noise-storms there's no end to the delights this little stretch of road dishes out on a regular basis.
I still assert that earlier buses were designed by someone, or a group of someones, who's experience of a bus ended, when they finally grew out of their favourite tonka toy collection phase. But surely after the buses were built, did no one deem it necessary to test them on roads and streets where people actually lived? At least then, the possibility of listening to a bloody bus sounding more like a helicopter parked 9ft from a window, followed by drivers revving their engines and bibbing their horns, slamming doors and emergency exits in faux maintenance walks, would hopefully have created some sort of a spark in someone with a few more spare brain-cells than the average, and caused them to ponder "just how will people react with all that noise and racket at 2am, or 5am, or any other times the things are in close proximity to them? Hm, i wonder!"
From my interactions with tfl, i've come to the conclusion they view the bus department as more of an annoyance. A horrid burden they have to endure, over the wonderful grandiose delights offered by running the tube network; with those glorious sweeping entrances, arched halls, and historic stations.
It probably went like this. At some stage the bus department failed to get the attention the other departments had managed to seize; and so when it came to procuring new buses they grumbled, grudgingly and said “yea, they'll do,” and so the helicopters which drivers think are good fun not to switch off, and tfl would rather not think about, or act on, were born. And in time they spread far and wide, throughout the residential land. Causing grief to anyone unfortunate to think that double or triple-glazing would surely be enough to keep the offending noise away from delicate ears.
A long example i know. But just imagine for a moment imagine, across london there are thousands of the red buggers all at it; despite tfl saying “they shouldn't be doing that. It will be stopped… They will be disciplined… They don't do it, it has been stopped… Is it still going on?"
If tfl, an authority so vaunting of its green credentials and respect for neighbourhoods, fails so dismally, and is incapable of policing it's own operators and drivers, then how will humanity, in any significant number do anything in time to ensure there's a world fit to live in? And don't forget the new watered down aim of cop 21 is to limit any temperature rise to 2 degrees celsius, but aspire to keep any rise to under 1.5. It'll be lucky if the rise remains under double figures.
You might just wonder why i'm somewhat skeptical of our ability to really knuckle down, and forge our way out of this slowly unfurling disaster. Apart from the attitude of tfl, people in general. A few months ago, over food and drinks, conversation with friends turned to money spent on shopping and where to shop. I brought up a shop called the 99p store, which I frequent for household cleaning materials. For those who don't know, it was a retail outlet where most things were going for 99 pence, more often than not for less - until it was acquired by their more aggressive competitors, the £1 shop (otherwise known as poundland). So we argued about the relative merits, until the nugget was boiled down to an issue of pride. Simply put, they would rather travel somewhere and pay £3 for an item instead of 99p at the store, as the 99p store was just far too down-market for them. If you multiply that and similar attitudes across the billions of inhabitants, then where do you see things heading?
As dr maria neira might well possibly say in an unguarded private moment, “we're fucked!”
Monday, 18 January 2016
Sayonara Samsung
Well, the mobile division at any rate. I have a few months to go before my contract is up. I was using the galaxy s3, when the screen cracked. That will teach me not to use a screen protector, nor to have the phone enclosed in a case. The entire thing happened in a moment of absent-mindedness. I went to forcibly catch the phone after it fell from my hand, when I attempted to move it about 2 feet from one part of the desk to another. The upper left-hand screen-edge impacted against a 5 or 10 pence piece sticking out from the side of a book. There was a slight retort and a partial spider screen, and that was that. A pristine phone ruined in an instant, but luckily still functional. As i was only a few months away from an upgrade, i decided to simply wait.
It was in december 2013, after the long awaited update to jelly bean 4.2, that things started to go sour between samsung, orange, the s3 and me. One problem, was the dreaded slow charging. After leaving the phone plugged in, using the original charger and cable, with wifi, mobile data, sound, brightness, either all switched off or set to minimum. After nine hours of non-stop charging the battery had finally reached 80% capacity. Then the moment it was switched on i could count the seconds as as it lost a percentage point of charge. It took a month for samsung/orange to correct that little cock-up. Once it was corrected, normal battery charging and usage were resumed. In the meantime i was left with my veritable and sturdy htc wildfire – which happily works to this day and is a default backup for phone calls, sms, and even the odd painful attempt at an email, should an upgrade go wrong.
But the day came after months of waiting, it was time to upgrade to a shiny new device. I had my eye on the note4 for flexibility, the android os (despite the rubbish overlay), replaceable battery, microsd slot, and the s-pen. It was still in the samsung fold, but i was more than happy giving them another free opportunity. Unfortunately i had to swap from orange to ee, but after sitting down and doing my calculations it was all worthwhile. So i upgraded and waited for it's appearance on my doorstep. It arrived. I could feel the box wrapped in an unopened bag, which didn't sport any external signs of damage.
I opened the bag and carefully removed the contents. The delivery note seemed odd. I read down the list of contents, and among them was a letter for the devices' return, a refund letter for the device, and the device in its box. A furrowed pucker started to burrow its way to the surface of my brow. I put the delivery note down, and picked up the letter, which began “we're sorry to hear that you're not satisfied with the device...” Not satisfied, i thought. I've only just received it. How can i not be satisfied? I looked at the delivery note and back to the letter. Put the letter down and picked up the box. The first label was intact. Turned the box around and looked at the second label, the security label. The one which says 'do not accept if broken'. It had a nice break running all the way through it.
I contacted ee, and queried why there was a break running through the security label.
“Oh the box is like that, as we have to test some of the phones,” she said.
Bullshit, I thought. “It's not acceptable, it's used.” I said. “I don't want a returned phone, when i'm paying the price of a new one!”
“We can send you another one, if you're not happy with it?” she said.
“Fine. Thank you,” I replied, and rang off.
Luckily, after learning my lesson the hard way with the s3, i had pre-purchased a case and screen cover for the note4 – both of which have kept it in very usable condition, despite the odd knocks it's experienced. Even with insurance, I'd rather try to hang on to it, and not have to schlep to a store, or send it away never to see it again as it's been run over after falling into the path of a forklift, after dropping from a lorry whose door had swung open as the driver had been out the night before and only saw, at the last moment, the postman crossing the road with earphones stuck in his ears connected to a s3.
Suffice to say, i was more than happy with the note4, and probably like many other owners, were eagerly looking forward to seeing the specifications for the note5. What wonders would they tempt us users with next?
No replacement battery, and no microsd slot!
I'm on my 2nd original manufacturers battery, i have the the microsd slot at 75%. When the phone plays up, I can simply remove and replace the battery and restart, and yes if that means sacrificing 2mm of thickness, then I can really say that I don't mind in the slightest.
Since the note5's unveiling, I knew that my love affair with samsung (as tempestuous, and unpredictable as it was) had run it's course. It was time to look elsewhere.
I had thought all was lost. That all the manufacturers had lost their senses when it came to device design and were all following the apple-cart of oblivion, well those who only depended on phones for their living. I made a conscious effort not to put the device in harms way, or near an edge, or halfway hanging out a side pocket easily available for a mugger to hoik, and run off with. Until one day lg, of all companies, brought out their V10. Yes, I know it doesn't have a s-pen, or a pen of any description. But it has battery that can be replaced, it has a microsd slot that can take anything from 32gb up to 2tb – i'm sure one of the reviews and spec sheets will be proven correct when the v10, or the g4 pro, finally lands in the uk.
There is, however, a large fly on the horizon: mobile world congress in barcelona from the 22-25 February 2016.
Cover on… cover off. What more could a nerd want.
It was in december 2013, after the long awaited update to jelly bean 4.2, that things started to go sour between samsung, orange, the s3 and me. One problem, was the dreaded slow charging. After leaving the phone plugged in, using the original charger and cable, with wifi, mobile data, sound, brightness, either all switched off or set to minimum. After nine hours of non-stop charging the battery had finally reached 80% capacity. Then the moment it was switched on i could count the seconds as as it lost a percentage point of charge. It took a month for samsung/orange to correct that little cock-up. Once it was corrected, normal battery charging and usage were resumed. In the meantime i was left with my veritable and sturdy htc wildfire – which happily works to this day and is a default backup for phone calls, sms, and even the odd painful attempt at an email, should an upgrade go wrong.
But the day came after months of waiting, it was time to upgrade to a shiny new device. I had my eye on the note4 for flexibility, the android os (despite the rubbish overlay), replaceable battery, microsd slot, and the s-pen. It was still in the samsung fold, but i was more than happy giving them another free opportunity. Unfortunately i had to swap from orange to ee, but after sitting down and doing my calculations it was all worthwhile. So i upgraded and waited for it's appearance on my doorstep. It arrived. I could feel the box wrapped in an unopened bag, which didn't sport any external signs of damage.
I opened the bag and carefully removed the contents. The delivery note seemed odd. I read down the list of contents, and among them was a letter for the devices' return, a refund letter for the device, and the device in its box. A furrowed pucker started to burrow its way to the surface of my brow. I put the delivery note down, and picked up the letter, which began “we're sorry to hear that you're not satisfied with the device...” Not satisfied, i thought. I've only just received it. How can i not be satisfied? I looked at the delivery note and back to the letter. Put the letter down and picked up the box. The first label was intact. Turned the box around and looked at the second label, the security label. The one which says 'do not accept if broken'. It had a nice break running all the way through it.
I contacted ee, and queried why there was a break running through the security label.
“Oh the box is like that, as we have to test some of the phones,” she said.
Bullshit, I thought. “It's not acceptable, it's used.” I said. “I don't want a returned phone, when i'm paying the price of a new one!”
“We can send you another one, if you're not happy with it?” she said.
“Fine. Thank you,” I replied, and rang off.
Luckily, after learning my lesson the hard way with the s3, i had pre-purchased a case and screen cover for the note4 – both of which have kept it in very usable condition, despite the odd knocks it's experienced. Even with insurance, I'd rather try to hang on to it, and not have to schlep to a store, or send it away never to see it again as it's been run over after falling into the path of a forklift, after dropping from a lorry whose door had swung open as the driver had been out the night before and only saw, at the last moment, the postman crossing the road with earphones stuck in his ears connected to a s3.
Suffice to say, i was more than happy with the note4, and probably like many other owners, were eagerly looking forward to seeing the specifications for the note5. What wonders would they tempt us users with next?
No replacement battery, and no microsd slot!
I'm on my 2nd original manufacturers battery, i have the the microsd slot at 75%. When the phone plays up, I can simply remove and replace the battery and restart, and yes if that means sacrificing 2mm of thickness, then I can really say that I don't mind in the slightest.
Since the note5's unveiling, I knew that my love affair with samsung (as tempestuous, and unpredictable as it was) had run it's course. It was time to look elsewhere.
I had thought all was lost. That all the manufacturers had lost their senses when it came to device design and were all following the apple-cart of oblivion, well those who only depended on phones for their living. I made a conscious effort not to put the device in harms way, or near an edge, or halfway hanging out a side pocket easily available for a mugger to hoik, and run off with. Until one day lg, of all companies, brought out their V10. Yes, I know it doesn't have a s-pen, or a pen of any description. But it has battery that can be replaced, it has a microsd slot that can take anything from 32gb up to 2tb – i'm sure one of the reviews and spec sheets will be proven correct when the v10, or the g4 pro, finally lands in the uk.
There is, however, a large fly on the horizon: mobile world congress in barcelona from the 22-25 February 2016.
Cover on… cover off. What more could a nerd want.
Sunday, 17 January 2016
Where's my prole?
It's quite disappointing watching the uk disappear up the annus of american ideology - especially when it’s not the perfumed, sweet-smelling, rose-tinted kind! With consecutive uk governments (whether true tory blue, or twitchy new labour serenity) following the crazy ideas of their more lunatic-fringed american brethren, it really is mindbogglingly fantastic that the malcontented detritic electorate who didn't vote, or who voted against the ruling paper-bangers, have failed to do anything other than grumble, or loft perfectly calligraphed signs - expressing disgust - above their heads, at the myriad papercut betrayals inflicting our democracy.
Instead of running the corporaphyte puppets out of parliament whilst waving a round bowl above their heads, to the cheering delight of some addled old lag laying sprawled in the street reaching for a pint, their only concern appears to be that of virtually connecting to the current wardrobe phase of the latest celebrity (who has been plopped onto a pedestal for general consumption), or checking to see whether the latest mobile gizmo will have something, added as a bonus. For the really hardcore noncarers christmas is popping up every other day, courtesy of the latest terrorist outrages, leaving them at a loss as to which bruised and blooded part of the globe to squeeze the last bit of blood from, in search of the next cheap getaway.
There are those who say the levers of power have been infiltrated by lumpenproletariats play acting at running the country, and ruining it for the vast majority who just want to live and enjoy a peaceful life; if the maelstrom of carnage and chaos experienced by many in the name of austerity and ideology is any indication, you might concede that they are more than likely correct.
The conservatives, under the premiership of margaret thatcher, truly began the privatisation runaway train as if there was no tomorrow. Fire sales of public services & assets. All with the lauded aim to create a share owning democracy, and new home-owning class. Subsequently over 40+ state organisations have been up for grabs, and politicians probably knowing that the vast majority of sids, at the first sign of flushed wealth, would flog off their holdings, made the bargain so much sweeter. It’s almost as if most of the country's assets and business were animals at a market, with the financial attendees haggling over the best piece of meat, slavering at the thought of making the killing.
That major period was followed by people throwing their hands up in disgust and voting for labour, giving the party a previously unheard of landslide. This was in the mistaken belief they would reverse the policy of the conservatives and turn if not 180 degrees at least pull sharply about, to stave off the worst bits of capitalistic greed, and bolster the services that the public wanted and believed were of communal and social benefit. Instead of reversing the policies, which the vast majority of people who voted for them wanted, the party closed their eyes and fell into the arms of the corporate lobbyists, newspapers - 98% of whom do not represent the average person's interests except for when it transpires they can make more money - and continued with most of the mendacious conservative policies. On top of which they added their own egregious bills to really put the pressure on. Ending with one last gasp of an act of their governance, the digital economy act 2010, plus the myriad of private finance initiatives - a conservative policy new labour devoured like a well trained puppy, lapping up puke.
Bbc’s question time of the 15th january 2016, was quite illuminating. I found myself constantly mesmerised by some of the nonsense being spouted by members of the panel. I was briefly under the impression many of them either believe there are no other sources of news for people to look at, and so the public's general goldfishiness can be taken for granted, or they really do live on a different plane and only momentarily interact with this one once they start talking, and return to their own reality once they’ve stopped spouting drivel. I mention the show, as talk veered on to the topic of housing and the government's aim to have a few houses built from now until 2020. Naturally those on the hang-them high side of thinking, wanted to bulldoze the green belt and have tower blocks covering everything. The ukip representative muttered about immigrants, yet no one mentioned that councils were stopped from building more housing by the government at the time, and subsequent governments since then have failed to allow councils to do anything in any meaningful measure since.
Talking of illumination, let’s take the latest news pouring in from the energy sector. Utilities are been harangued by various organisations, for not dropping their prices to household customers at a similar rate to the fall they’ve experienced in their wholesale prices. Indeed media outlets felt sufficiently aggrieved to provide nice and easy understandable figures, which were more than sufficient to encourage a rise in the gore of at least one morning breakfaster. For gas, the wholesale price has fallen by over a third in the past 12 months, for electricity, by a quarter. The large utility companies have failed to pass those lovely savings on to their customers; and why should they? After all these new computers just can’t cope like the old abacuses. All these ups and downs that have to be calculated. On top of that, they don’t have enough staff. What’s the point of them reducing prices when they’ll only have to put them up again when the next calamity hits, in four years time. They are, after all, companies who happen to provide something people need, and all companies (bar charities) are in existence to make a profit for their shareholders, and a nice big fat one at that. A bonus for the board members. Pay the employees as little as they can get away with, and see what pesky bits of legislation they can avoid, along with how many rings they can run around the regulators.
What i do find ghastly, is the crocodile expressions of amazement politicians express, shocked that companies are not passing on savings to customers, and pocketing the difference instead. That would be the same as someone buying a pitbull terrier from a cage-fighter, then looking on in horror, wondering why it’s using a chihuahua as a chewy toy.
Instead of running the corporaphyte puppets out of parliament whilst waving a round bowl above their heads, to the cheering delight of some addled old lag laying sprawled in the street reaching for a pint, their only concern appears to be that of virtually connecting to the current wardrobe phase of the latest celebrity (who has been plopped onto a pedestal for general consumption), or checking to see whether the latest mobile gizmo will have something, added as a bonus. For the really hardcore noncarers christmas is popping up every other day, courtesy of the latest terrorist outrages, leaving them at a loss as to which bruised and blooded part of the globe to squeeze the last bit of blood from, in search of the next cheap getaway.
There are those who say the levers of power have been infiltrated by lumpenproletariats play acting at running the country, and ruining it for the vast majority who just want to live and enjoy a peaceful life; if the maelstrom of carnage and chaos experienced by many in the name of austerity and ideology is any indication, you might concede that they are more than likely correct.
The conservatives, under the premiership of margaret thatcher, truly began the privatisation runaway train as if there was no tomorrow. Fire sales of public services & assets. All with the lauded aim to create a share owning democracy, and new home-owning class. Subsequently over 40+ state organisations have been up for grabs, and politicians probably knowing that the vast majority of sids, at the first sign of flushed wealth, would flog off their holdings, made the bargain so much sweeter. It’s almost as if most of the country's assets and business were animals at a market, with the financial attendees haggling over the best piece of meat, slavering at the thought of making the killing.
That major period was followed by people throwing their hands up in disgust and voting for labour, giving the party a previously unheard of landslide. This was in the mistaken belief they would reverse the policy of the conservatives and turn if not 180 degrees at least pull sharply about, to stave off the worst bits of capitalistic greed, and bolster the services that the public wanted and believed were of communal and social benefit. Instead of reversing the policies, which the vast majority of people who voted for them wanted, the party closed their eyes and fell into the arms of the corporate lobbyists, newspapers - 98% of whom do not represent the average person's interests except for when it transpires they can make more money - and continued with most of the mendacious conservative policies. On top of which they added their own egregious bills to really put the pressure on. Ending with one last gasp of an act of their governance, the digital economy act 2010, plus the myriad of private finance initiatives - a conservative policy new labour devoured like a well trained puppy, lapping up puke.
Bbc’s question time of the 15th january 2016, was quite illuminating. I found myself constantly mesmerised by some of the nonsense being spouted by members of the panel. I was briefly under the impression many of them either believe there are no other sources of news for people to look at, and so the public's general goldfishiness can be taken for granted, or they really do live on a different plane and only momentarily interact with this one once they start talking, and return to their own reality once they’ve stopped spouting drivel. I mention the show, as talk veered on to the topic of housing and the government's aim to have a few houses built from now until 2020. Naturally those on the hang-them high side of thinking, wanted to bulldoze the green belt and have tower blocks covering everything. The ukip representative muttered about immigrants, yet no one mentioned that councils were stopped from building more housing by the government at the time, and subsequent governments since then have failed to allow councils to do anything in any meaningful measure since.
Talking of illumination, let’s take the latest news pouring in from the energy sector. Utilities are been harangued by various organisations, for not dropping their prices to household customers at a similar rate to the fall they’ve experienced in their wholesale prices. Indeed media outlets felt sufficiently aggrieved to provide nice and easy understandable figures, which were more than sufficient to encourage a rise in the gore of at least one morning breakfaster. For gas, the wholesale price has fallen by over a third in the past 12 months, for electricity, by a quarter. The large utility companies have failed to pass those lovely savings on to their customers; and why should they? After all these new computers just can’t cope like the old abacuses. All these ups and downs that have to be calculated. On top of that, they don’t have enough staff. What’s the point of them reducing prices when they’ll only have to put them up again when the next calamity hits, in four years time. They are, after all, companies who happen to provide something people need, and all companies (bar charities) are in existence to make a profit for their shareholders, and a nice big fat one at that. A bonus for the board members. Pay the employees as little as they can get away with, and see what pesky bits of legislation they can avoid, along with how many rings they can run around the regulators.
What i do find ghastly, is the crocodile expressions of amazement politicians express, shocked that companies are not passing on savings to customers, and pocketing the difference instead. That would be the same as someone buying a pitbull terrier from a cage-fighter, then looking on in horror, wondering why it’s using a chihuahua as a chewy toy.
Tuesday, 5 January 2016
Productive serf
It's no wonder there are more us feeling just that little bit cranky nowadays. You could almost say we’re looking a bit frazzled around the edges, and weather worn from the slow drip of increasing stress, as the hours glibly fly by.
We’re less than a week into the new year, and already people feel as though their heads are going to explode from the sheer stream of utter bs, streaming in from all directions.
Oh, where to start… Let’s see, tfl, neighbours, letwin, putin, daesh, trump, buses, parliament, presidential campaigns, floods, climate change… Parliament!
Politicians say the modern day serfs are not been productive enough. That they can only expect a pay rise, or improved living conditions, if they work harder. Much harder damn them. We want to see blood pouring from those fingernails, and watch as those layabouts gnash their teeth under another 70 years of hard blue labour!
Now before you nod your head savagely, in sage agreement with them, remember that this will be the same politicians who take even more holidays than teachers. Indeed through dint of elbow grease, or silver spoon, they are the best of the citizenry that's floated to the top, and as such 98% of them shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the reigns of power.
But in their role of representing all those other lazybones - who claim they have better things to do such as foraging around in foodbanks, pretending to be poor by wearing less than their sunday finest, or waiting for a letter telling them how many months they’ll be sanctioned and receive no money for, for failing to receive a letter that should have been sent by the dwps’ 100% efficient machinery, via the department which doesn’t understand the concept that the species hasn’t yet mastered the art of mind reading. Those saintly souls, during the helter-skelter ricochets of 2015s ongoing turbo-charged austerity, had their basic pay packet increased by 10%, or roughly £7k to £74k. That’s only the basic. On top of that they could get anywhere from £13k to £74k extra, dependent on what other post, or job they managed to parachute themselves into, during their hallowed paneled-hall tenure.
Don’t worry, i’m nearly past this bit. If this is proving a bit much, here’s a cat video you can watch, it even includes toilet paper.
The 10% increase, plus extra, was just the first and second fiscal posts for the job of serving the people. Going to the third post are the various expenses that can be claimed, plus subsidised canteens, 24 hour booze dens, pensions, and as we’ve seen from those arch crypto-commie-socialists: brown and darling (plus all the others in the past) the final post of a nice cushy directorship at the end of the line - should you end up pleasing your masters, or a speaking tour where you can charge £15k to tell them just how you got away with it, thanks to the majority lemmings having not a clue.
But this 10% salary increase was made by the independent parliamentary standards authority (ipsa), with the promise that further pay increases will be clipped to the level that mp’s constituents have to face; naturally it fails to say (that i could see in my skiving skimming) whether that’s the average, middle, lower, or upper levels of said mp’s constituents.
Who makes up the board of the ipsa? After all, according to their blurb…
I digress.
Of course this 10% inflation busting pay rise eventually followed on from the expenses scandals which peaked in 2009, which were so mouthwateringly audacious, that even ducks would paddle around their moats with a wing held over their heads in shame, at such unfortunate an association. The fact mp’s managed to surpass that peak five years later, is a topic to be mulled over during a different bout of shirking.
The modus operandi we proles, we vast swathes of the bone idle, we feckless grommets, we lazy everyday shirking layabouts have failed to grasp, is that such prized fiscal remuneration would be within grasp of our nettle, if we weren’t so roundly and utterly damned unproductive.
We’re so unproductive that we deserve the austerity brought down upon our necks by the banks imploding and then been dutifully bailed out by the government. Who then found themselves with no other option but to cut public services, and freeze people's benefits due to the sheer cost of having to magic the money out of the air, to bail out the banks, to then go back to the banks to obtain loans with wedges of interest attached; which with hindsight firmly under wing, some might say such politicians had acted appropriately, if the aim was to ensure their future pay-masters needs were properly serviced.
But you, you shirking non-productive unit! You have to work longer hours, harder, and have less benefits, and oh yes, work until you're 90. That will teach you to be so lax in your productivity.
So just in case we've forgotten, ongoing austerity is all our fault. We’re all in austerity together. That's all of us earning less than £74k per year. You might for one moment think that you really can't work any harder, nor faster, and at the rate you're going your body will fall to bits due to the shear levels of stress – but this is only the working environment we’re considering, you can re-allocate time from your leisure, home environments and any other duties which obviously can’t be as important to the servicing of this need.
No you can’t? Well that’s tough. Atos the previous gestapo glove (as viewed by many) of the government's dwp arm is firmly out of the way, and replaced with maximus, another globalised (how many units can we move) company, poised at the ready to sign you back as “fit to work!”. A quick look at their history, might make you wonder which path all of this will lead down. I predict, not the happy one - especially as they’re still implementing the same tests that atos had to, as those are the tests mandated by the government. Or put another way, it’s the same burnt disgusting gravy, just served by a different, more exotic waiter.
When it comes to these tests, you can hide in the casket you were buried in, or have your ashes thrown to the four winds; they'd only send someone around the globe to find all your ashes, pop them back into the urn, take the urn to an examination room and give it a stern telling off, before applying sanctions (so you can only blow to three corners and not four) for been tardy in your approach to gainful employment.
Fuck the machines, and the robots, and the artificial intelligences coming increasingly on stream. You will have to up your productivity to compete, either with some poor five year old from malawi that's been forced to work for 20 hours a day, 364 days a year and drops dead when he’s aged seven, or the machines working every hour of every day until they rust to bits and reach that great bender in the sky. That is the sort of productivity they want from you, and even if you were capable of providing it, they still wouldn't be happy, as it would never be enough.
However societies, the modern ones, where on balance the more intelligent people outweigh the dim ones, are rapidly zooming to a point where their toasters are going to be smarter, and more intelligent than their politicians - let alone the people using the toasters. Pop into that mix the revolution of quantum computers running at a gazillion flippers every second and all just melding together to become the true masters of the planet. Then in 20 years, if we are all connected via our quantum watches and every decision can be voted on instantly, without the spin, the hype, the lies nor mistruths, what will we actually need politicians and parliaments for?
We’re less than a week into the new year, and already people feel as though their heads are going to explode from the sheer stream of utter bs, streaming in from all directions.
Oh, where to start… Let’s see, tfl, neighbours, letwin, putin, daesh, trump, buses, parliament, presidential campaigns, floods, climate change… Parliament!
Politicians say the modern day serfs are not been productive enough. That they can only expect a pay rise, or improved living conditions, if they work harder. Much harder damn them. We want to see blood pouring from those fingernails, and watch as those layabouts gnash their teeth under another 70 years of hard blue labour!
Now before you nod your head savagely, in sage agreement with them, remember that this will be the same politicians who take even more holidays than teachers. Indeed through dint of elbow grease, or silver spoon, they are the best of the citizenry that's floated to the top, and as such 98% of them shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the reigns of power.
But in their role of representing all those other lazybones - who claim they have better things to do such as foraging around in foodbanks, pretending to be poor by wearing less than their sunday finest, or waiting for a letter telling them how many months they’ll be sanctioned and receive no money for, for failing to receive a letter that should have been sent by the dwps’ 100% efficient machinery, via the department which doesn’t understand the concept that the species hasn’t yet mastered the art of mind reading. Those saintly souls, during the helter-skelter ricochets of 2015s ongoing turbo-charged austerity, had their basic pay packet increased by 10%, or roughly £7k to £74k. That’s only the basic. On top of that they could get anywhere from £13k to £74k extra, dependent on what other post, or job they managed to parachute themselves into, during their hallowed paneled-hall tenure.
Don’t worry, i’m nearly past this bit. If this is proving a bit much, here’s a cat video you can watch, it even includes toilet paper.
The 10% increase, plus extra, was just the first and second fiscal posts for the job of serving the people. Going to the third post are the various expenses that can be claimed, plus subsidised canteens, 24 hour booze dens, pensions, and as we’ve seen from those arch crypto-commie-socialists: brown and darling (plus all the others in the past) the final post of a nice cushy directorship at the end of the line - should you end up pleasing your masters, or a speaking tour where you can charge £15k to tell them just how you got away with it, thanks to the majority lemmings having not a clue.
But this 10% salary increase was made by the independent parliamentary standards authority (ipsa), with the promise that further pay increases will be clipped to the level that mp’s constituents have to face; naturally it fails to say (that i could see in my skiving skimming) whether that’s the average, middle, lower, or upper levels of said mp’s constituents.
Who makes up the board of the ipsa? After all, according to their blurb…
“IPSA is independent of parliament, government and of political parties. In everything we do, we focus on our main duty; to serve the interests of the public”Well, it’s made up of an ex-mp, a sir, ex-civil servants, an ex-audit company member and so on. Hardly your local reformed gang member, nor checkout assistant from your local sainsbury's; whom would be a true boost to the claim of independence, and could truly be said to have served the interests of the public - however poorly.
I digress.
Of course this 10% inflation busting pay rise eventually followed on from the expenses scandals which peaked in 2009, which were so mouthwateringly audacious, that even ducks would paddle around their moats with a wing held over their heads in shame, at such unfortunate an association. The fact mp’s managed to surpass that peak five years later, is a topic to be mulled over during a different bout of shirking.
The modus operandi we proles, we vast swathes of the bone idle, we feckless grommets, we lazy everyday shirking layabouts have failed to grasp, is that such prized fiscal remuneration would be within grasp of our nettle, if we weren’t so roundly and utterly damned unproductive.
We’re so unproductive that we deserve the austerity brought down upon our necks by the banks imploding and then been dutifully bailed out by the government. Who then found themselves with no other option but to cut public services, and freeze people's benefits due to the sheer cost of having to magic the money out of the air, to bail out the banks, to then go back to the banks to obtain loans with wedges of interest attached; which with hindsight firmly under wing, some might say such politicians had acted appropriately, if the aim was to ensure their future pay-masters needs were properly serviced.
But you, you shirking non-productive unit! You have to work longer hours, harder, and have less benefits, and oh yes, work until you're 90. That will teach you to be so lax in your productivity.
So just in case we've forgotten, ongoing austerity is all our fault. We’re all in austerity together. That's all of us earning less than £74k per year. You might for one moment think that you really can't work any harder, nor faster, and at the rate you're going your body will fall to bits due to the shear levels of stress – but this is only the working environment we’re considering, you can re-allocate time from your leisure, home environments and any other duties which obviously can’t be as important to the servicing of this need.
No you can’t? Well that’s tough. Atos the previous gestapo glove (as viewed by many) of the government's dwp arm is firmly out of the way, and replaced with maximus, another globalised (how many units can we move) company, poised at the ready to sign you back as “fit to work!”. A quick look at their history, might make you wonder which path all of this will lead down. I predict, not the happy one - especially as they’re still implementing the same tests that atos had to, as those are the tests mandated by the government. Or put another way, it’s the same burnt disgusting gravy, just served by a different, more exotic waiter.
When it comes to these tests, you can hide in the casket you were buried in, or have your ashes thrown to the four winds; they'd only send someone around the globe to find all your ashes, pop them back into the urn, take the urn to an examination room and give it a stern telling off, before applying sanctions (so you can only blow to three corners and not four) for been tardy in your approach to gainful employment.
Fuck the machines, and the robots, and the artificial intelligences coming increasingly on stream. You will have to up your productivity to compete, either with some poor five year old from malawi that's been forced to work for 20 hours a day, 364 days a year and drops dead when he’s aged seven, or the machines working every hour of every day until they rust to bits and reach that great bender in the sky. That is the sort of productivity they want from you, and even if you were capable of providing it, they still wouldn't be happy, as it would never be enough.
However societies, the modern ones, where on balance the more intelligent people outweigh the dim ones, are rapidly zooming to a point where their toasters are going to be smarter, and more intelligent than their politicians - let alone the people using the toasters. Pop into that mix the revolution of quantum computers running at a gazillion flippers every second and all just melding together to become the true masters of the planet. Then in 20 years, if we are all connected via our quantum watches and every decision can be voted on instantly, without the spin, the hype, the lies nor mistruths, what will we actually need politicians and parliaments for?
Monday, 4 January 2016
And we're off!
I believe this poor thing might be a few months too early.
First honeybee i've spotted, ready for the off.
First honeybee i've spotted, ready for the off.
Friday, 1 January 2016
And a jolly happy one
Yes a jolly happy 2016 to one and all; which will be the most bit of happiness and cheer i'll be spouting for the next 365 days, as this year's a gorgeous leap year, or a year with an extra day of misery to wade through, before it's all over.
But the year's still young, hope and joviality's fresh in peoples minds, relatively untrammelled, and fresh with promise... which means it should soon come crashing down and be all over by noon.
Why my positive thoughts you might ask? Well, for starters, and following the opinion of experts, 2016 and el nino will probably mean it'll be hotter than 2015 and with yet another year of weather records potentially waiting to fall, it's seriously time to consider having a solar collecting, water filtering, salad growing inflatable to hand for emergencies, floods, earthquakes and rising tides.
However, it wasn't just that cheery thought which set my teeth chattering; no, with the dog hours of the year nearly buried, so was plans for an inquiry into the banking culture, behaviour and pay, by the financial authority. Neatly brushed away as been too difficult to look into, and really, don't you know, all those misdemeanour’s happened ages ago. So do mind that little bit of a hump beneath the carpet, as you're going through brown-paper-revolving directorshipland.
Not to be outdone in the "hated by the public" stakes, small businesses are now complaining of the onerous rules and regulations they are been forced to endure, such as having to pay people a living wage, after all having one set of armani wear hanging in the walk-in, and cutting down to 26 business flights a year, is just, unthinkable.
However, it's not yet noon ... happy 2016!
But the year's still young, hope and joviality's fresh in peoples minds, relatively untrammelled, and fresh with promise... which means it should soon come crashing down and be all over by noon.
Why my positive thoughts you might ask? Well, for starters, and following the opinion of experts, 2016 and el nino will probably mean it'll be hotter than 2015 and with yet another year of weather records potentially waiting to fall, it's seriously time to consider having a solar collecting, water filtering, salad growing inflatable to hand for emergencies, floods, earthquakes and rising tides.
However, it wasn't just that cheery thought which set my teeth chattering; no, with the dog hours of the year nearly buried, so was plans for an inquiry into the banking culture, behaviour and pay, by the financial authority. Neatly brushed away as been too difficult to look into, and really, don't you know, all those misdemeanour’s happened ages ago. So do mind that little bit of a hump beneath the carpet, as you're going through brown-paper-revolving directorshipland.
Not to be outdone in the "hated by the public" stakes, small businesses are now complaining of the onerous rules and regulations they are been forced to endure, such as having to pay people a living wage, after all having one set of armani wear hanging in the walk-in, and cutting down to 26 business flights a year, is just, unthinkable.
However, it's not yet noon ... happy 2016!
Thursday, 3 December 2015
The unfettered
If you're one of those rare specimens living in a thoroughly soundproofed environment, where you don't hear the birds cawing at 5.23 am, nor are you startled awake by the sudden weeewwawwww-ing screech of alarms emanating from the plethora of 3.06am lightning-moving emergency vehicles, nor is your daily rhythm suckered by the sound of a crunching car flipping across the road before landing on its roof in a smoking piled ruin, nor are you shaken by the sounds of screaming jet engines scorching a path from the sky towards earth and yet another holding pattern; and you don't need a decent pair of soundproofed headphones – which sadly through over-use give you a case of burn-baby-burn – but which still manage to pump out white-noise during the day, and you certainly don't need earplugs to sleep; have neither aspergers, attention deficit disorder, nor dyslexia; then, maybe, just maybe, home working is indeed for you.
But I digress.
Working from home, if you're not living in a bombed-out wilderness where you've been involuntarily reduced to the level of goat tending: squeezing nannies tits before pulling yarn out of your eye – as you only dream of chomping down on your first mouldy dusty slice of something for breakfast, means that you can forgo the boring daily drudgery that goes by the name of office politics: where mavis' talking about her never-ending periods, and clifford's going over the amazing quadruple back-somersaulting 750m line goal over the weekend, from the left-back (no-one wanted), 5 seconds from the final whistle – for the 50th time that hour. The other office dramas. The commute to the office taking an extra two hours, in your own car, as the emergency services have conveniently forgotten to notify anyone, that a major minor connecting the arterial artery has suffered a catastrophic failure due to a lorry aiming for it's main support; as the driver's slumped asleep after not having slept during the past week, courtesy of receiving a caring email from his employer, offering to terminate his service should he be unable to help with the extra 40 deliveries they've so kindly decided to add to his roster, as they just don't have anyone else available to take up the slack.
Failing that, you could commute via the public transportation network and enjoy the morning miasma: the smell emanating from yourself, and the smells wafting from everyone else, combing to create a miasmic soup pricked with last night's drunken regurgitated stew, and the morning's colonic shower-gel, all liberally over-applied and slowly asphyxiating everyone in the carriage, whilst providing a suitable blueprint for the never-ending march of our very own super-bugs.
There is that need, however, to admit that I am been a bit too harsh. Working from home can be one of the most wonderful and thoroughly enjoyable things you can do. Especially if you have a job, or a paying hobby that you actually enjoy, which you can consummate without the need for constant interaction and hand-holding from your previous office, and desk-bound colleagues.
Then, and only then, can you truly say that you are unfettered. Despite been able to count the 50 pacing steps your neighbours take from room to room over the space of half and hour, before they decide that they can take off their steel capped shoes or high heels, and then wait another ten minutes before starting to do it all over again – for another hour; or you might just find yourself wondering just what obscure invisible object needs to be precisely hammered at 11pm at night, three nights in a row, with untrammelled equanimity.
When daesh are on the door-step, putins finger's hovering, half of global food production is wasted, and climate change means my avocados might actually survive outside their watery bath, that talking about such trivialities could be viewed is naval-gazing at it's worst, but with civilisation falling around our ears, we do really need to cling to those things which can allow us a moment of dizzying reflection and recollection!
Before realising that you're still in the office and reaching for a post-it, as your leaking red pen's now ruined another crumpled shirt.
Friday, 20 November 2015
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
A moment
I sincerely hope this ongoing trend of
jeans and khakis having slim tapered ankles soon comes to an end.
There's nothing worse than having 18” calves atop sturdy
foundation-like ankles, walking down the road looking like a whale in
pantaloons.
Now, it's time to fulminate over
russia, venuzula, ukraine, south africa, usa, canada, britain,
france...
Saturday, 25 January 2014
All-Shehebees!
"Yes, we strike another body blow to the nonsense parading itself as democracy and freedom. From here on in we, the All-she-he-bees, ban all of that mixed shaking and passing on of sweat or bodily dna, between everyone everywhere which is of a physical nature. Indeed this strike is to the foundations of individualism, dictating that all procreation be carried out by turkey basters and a no-nonsense test-tube.
Naturally
some of us have to be exempt from such conscription’s, as that is
the will of the host on high.
However
in the meantime:
- No handshaking!
- No looking in the same direction of anyone else for the purposes of sex!
- No eating in the same room!
- Actually, no living in the same town as anyone else, for the purposes of anything!
This
pronouncement is the will of the most high - as divined by our balmy
teacher.”
Thursday, 23 January 2014
Expert economist
Most economists never saw the 2007
crash and subsequent recession driving straight at them.
Most economists never saw uk
unemployment reaching 7.1% by the start of 2014.
Indeed, when it comes to predictions economists track records are worse than attempting to win anything on a lottery.
In light of this please pick the activity you believe those using the label economists, are actually good for:
- The position of court jester.
- Filling hot air balloons.
- Been used in boiler rooms during the depths of a severe winter, or
- Chasing around the village square with very heavy sticks?
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
Super yachts or super typhoon?
The worlds 100
richest people in 2012 sat on $240 bn.
If the worlds 100 richest gave the un
$301 mn in aid it would (worst case scenario) cost them 9 days worth
of interest.
But when it comes down to it, why should something like a
little disaster in the world set them back 9 days worth of interest
(when they're not in the slightest bit affected) and there are super
yachts to buy?
Friday, 25 October 2013
Start Trek continues
No this isn't about the eye-blinding lens-flaring of the last two films, but a fan made continuation of the original series, apparently with cbs's blessing. It's a testament to the dedication, talent and willingness of people to see their dreams unfold.
This is a fan continuation of the original series, with apollo making a re-appearance. The crew is the same crew but naturally played by all new actors, including the son (chris doohan) of scotty (james doohan) playing the role of... scotty! Michael forest reprises his original star trek role of apollo, with marina sirtis off next generations as the voice of the computer! Priceless.
Only 1 webisode's been made so far, but they're hoping to raise $100,00 by the 6th November to produce another 3 webisodes. To date (24th October at 13:03 hrs UT) they have raised $68,858, so only another $31,142 to go. So if you're a lover of all things trek, or sci-fi or just wish to poke one in the eye of the executives who cancel everything, go over to their kickstarter page and pledge: anything from $1 all the way up to $3,000 - which gives you:
But if you're too lazy to head over...
This is a fan continuation of the original series, with apollo making a re-appearance. The crew is the same crew but naturally played by all new actors, including the son (chris doohan) of scotty (james doohan) playing the role of... scotty! Michael forest reprises his original star trek role of apollo, with marina sirtis off next generations as the voice of the computer! Priceless.
Only 1 webisode's been made so far, but they're hoping to raise $100,00 by the 6th November to produce another 3 webisodes. To date (24th October at 13:03 hrs UT) they have raised $68,858, so only another $31,142 to go. So if you're a lover of all things trek, or sci-fi or just wish to poke one in the eye of the executives who cancel everything, go over to their kickstarter page and pledge: anything from $1 all the way up to $3,000 - which gives you:
"THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE SULU: Personal set tour guided by Grant Imahara ... This is a standalone level and does not include any other level in combination. Backers will be included on our special backer page on the Star Trek Continues website. We will thank backers at this level in the credits of the episodes supported by this Kickstarter..."But to re-wet your appetite for hopefully more, and if you're one of the few who haven't seen it yet, the following link will take you to their youtube channel so once more we can: boldly go where we've boldly been with a boldness no previous trek has bowled over!
But if you're too lazy to head over...
Sunday, 13 October 2013
I understand... happiness
I understand the need (in a different
parallel universe of course) to find and create profligate amounts of
time to be happy; believe me there's nothing more i would find
happier than, for however brief the moment, been on a platform
watching the whole planet been sucked into a ravenous black-hole.
Knowing my luck however, the platform
would be on the facing side, as the planet was gripped in the
death-throes of the beasts itsy-bitsy maw.
So, you might wonder, what's prompted
this interlude of “fun”? It was a comment (which i'm still
pondering whether to allow) I received on a post to do with “hfo
and unprofessional ethics” . As i'm commenting on it I suppose
it'd be rude not to – saying that "it is the time to be
happy." Which is wonderful if that's what they really want. I
can only assume they'd failed to read any other post apart from that
one entry, and so missed the realisation that I'm happiest wallowing
in the miserableness which surrounds me like a pack of killer whales
spying a seal, obliviously basking on an ice-floe, thank you very
much. Weight goes up pants tighten, weight goes down pants fit, an
easy equation to jog through life by, especially considering that one
day none of it will matter.
If you do wish to visit the site the
unknown person mentioned, it is called www.nerdfitness.com.
It will make you like yourself, it will make you enjoy you're couch
potato lifestyle with some exercising and nutrition, enabling you to
become a truly productive member of society (what on earth for?), so
if that's your bag, then please do head over. On the other hand, if
you wish to endure depressing, lip-curdling rubbish, there's no need
to go any further. Indeed, have a stroll through the archives and
see if there's anything which has you reaching for the close-tab
icon, or preferably have you rip the telephone cable from the wall
socket to strangle next doors cat with, which has plopped one deposit
too many on your prize now-shrivelled hydrangeas!
Monday, 5 August 2013
Oh I nearly forgot, paris – p1
Ah paris! That wonderful city of romance (yuk), good food
(what's wrong with eating dust), cheeses galore (which naturally have
me running screaming to the loo), and very rude parisians. Why
on earth would anyone wish to travel there except to swan around or
clamber to the top of the eiffel tower, simply to get their tits out?
On this occasion i was invited by a friend whom i hadn't seen in years. And with the fine people at eurostar offering fantastic return deals at £59, it seemed churlish not to grasp the opportunity – if just to get away from the silly madness flying under the bloody tourettes purported big society banner – a headless environment where people run around wishing that their headlessness is firmly kept away from the glare of exposure, but it certainly sounds chummily nice.
Being a crabby traveller i find airports, and the so called "stassi" security measures they contain for our benefit, nothing less than a sad sop. If they were serious about security each person would be stripped down to their nothings and forced to wear some kind of disposable (but recyclable) garment. The passenger would then, naturally, be reunited with all theirrubbish belongings
on the other side, once the plane had safely skidded to a halt. No
make-up, no perfumes, no books, nor any reading. To take it to its flying
extreme, if everyone was simply tranquillised upon boarding, a third
of the unnecessary weight could be dispensed with and airlines could
cram even more people on the planes. We travellers, on the
other hand, would arrive feeling refreshed if a little dozy.
Indeed why not ban hand-luggage from the cabin altogether and dump everyone’s crap in the hold? A dreadful chore i know; but, just imagine not having to worry about that strange foreign-looking person sitting two rows down, who's just started to sweat uncontrollably!
No, travelling for me and I suspect for many of you too, involves far more hours wasted that could be spent contentedly tucked happily away in bed. Failing that, checking over the luggage for the umpteenth time before been quietly confident pants hadn't been forgotten. Even spending more time at the destination - despite the final nights bout of food poisoning, all before making that fateful return trip back in a nice new maglev carriage or popping on a pad and been beamed away.
When it comes to security, it always makes me ponder on the considerable number of passenger journeys taking place around the globe day by day, year upon year, who meet with a fate no worse than a greyhound discovering that the tasty morsel its chasing after to devour and fill its half starving stomach, is nothing more significant than insubstantial fluff. Yet there's more fear surrounding the act of flying than any other type of activity - bar sticking your head in a nuclear reactor, or playing russian roulette with a meth'd out crack head. Even dying by bungee jumping nowadays makes you into a sports martyr and garners you the respect you failed to garner whilst been alive.
Looking through the league tables of probability, you have less chance of dying from a bizarre kind of plane malfunction: whether caused by material fatigue, or some successful pants bomber managing to actually do the plane in (at roughly 0.000.014%), than you have of dying in the uk in a car accident which trots in somewhere around the region of 0.013%. Even the chance of been struck by lightning somewhere on the globe pops in at a measly 0.000.34%, which means you have a far greater chance of dying horribly from having your number called by a lightning bolt from the ledger in the sky, coming to you in the form of a plane incident.
But, put another way, more people die from falling birds, choking on a peanut or been hit in the head by a golf ball than dying sitting in seat 17A of an aeroplane. Sadly, before you get too carried away, there's more chance of you dying in a plane incident than chance of you winning the euromillions lottery jackpot, which is stuck way down the league of improbables at 0.000.000.86%.
Don't get me wrong, we're all (with 100% certainty) going to kick the bucket, pop our clogs, give back our birthday suits, feed the worms, be dust in the clouds... the only random variable is simply that of timing.
Of course security hawks will tell you that the amount of money spent on making us queue like sheep in a pen, or protestors been kettled has all been worth it, which in 2011 apparently reached the grand sum of $19.1bn and could top $45.13bn by 2018, according to security director news from research conducted by frost & sullivans 'global airport security market assessment' report.
Imagine that, $19.1bn in one year poured in to help ensure the safety of passengers and the security of flights. So it's good that all the money terminally spent stuffing all the security holes and hence the tide of terrorist menaces, that would otherwise cause that side of the fatality figures to er, explode, met with unqualified success. Apart from the few individuals who managed to get on-board aeroplanes with false passports or no passports at all. Such as the 12 year old boy in 2006 who managed to evade the heightened measures and boarded a plane at gatwick for lisbon, who was described by cnn in one of their less hysterical notorious moments as the “uk terror boy”; or the 11 year old boy who in 2012 managed to get on a manchester to italy flight, but by then this grievous feral terror plot was described in far less hysterical terms - and they were the first three search results which appeared from my query.
Incidents which no doubt happened decades before the billions were sequestrated or spent, it's just that we haven't realised it yet. On the other side, the manufacturers will claim just how fantastic and improved the security and designs of the new aeroplanes are, thus ensuring their ongoing improvements are suitably noticed by those signing the contracts on the one side of the fence. Which has nothing whatsoever to do with the necessity of prying through all your emails viewed as required reading by the spying brigade, occupying the other side of the fence.
Yet when you look at how full of holes and shoddy the security at most airports around the world are, it's more a question of how come the terrorists have failed to pull of more spectaculars than the relative few they have actually achieved?
In comparison train travel is relatively easy on the experience, the eye and body – if we ignore the tragic instance of the spanish crash on the 26th July 2013. The few occasions i've journeyed on the eurostar for example have been relatively quick, easy on the stress levels, but even more importantly (as i discovered on my last journey) if you glower a bit, people tend avoiding talking to you, which is a boon; especially if the trite conversations i had the displeasure of overhearing going on around me were anything at all to go by.
To be somewhat serious, i have always loathed travelling by air which i put down to been an uncontrollable sweater - even when young. It's the heat of the airports combined with the stifling air, and nothing whatsoever to do with the six bloody mary's i'd have knocked back in less than 30 minutes, just to steady and calm my nerves whilst stopping images from those bloody airplane disaster movies, let alone the disaster of the day from normal news, from crowding out anything else. The travel to and from the airport. The two plus waiting hours before take off, unless you're a diamond/platinum/uber-gold frequent flyer. The circling, the holding patterns, the person in front deciding to tilt their seat back when you're trying to eat the nutrition-less cardboard passing for regurgitated puke (someone had the temerity to call food), whilst juggling with a cup of burning coffee. The air-sickness, the drunk, and the person behind you who believes they're setting a new guinness book of records' - as the passenger annoyingly pressing the attendance bell (do they still call them that) more times than any other passenger, ever.
And sadly, I haven't even reached paris yet!
To be continued, before the month's out!
Refs:
On this occasion i was invited by a friend whom i hadn't seen in years. And with the fine people at eurostar offering fantastic return deals at £59, it seemed churlish not to grasp the opportunity – if just to get away from the silly madness flying under the bloody tourettes purported big society banner – a headless environment where people run around wishing that their headlessness is firmly kept away from the glare of exposure, but it certainly sounds chummily nice.
Being a crabby traveller i find airports, and the so called "stassi" security measures they contain for our benefit, nothing less than a sad sop. If they were serious about security each person would be stripped down to their nothings and forced to wear some kind of disposable (but recyclable) garment. The passenger would then, naturally, be reunited with all their
Indeed why not ban hand-luggage from the cabin altogether and dump everyone’s crap in the hold? A dreadful chore i know; but, just imagine not having to worry about that strange foreign-looking person sitting two rows down, who's just started to sweat uncontrollably!
No, travelling for me and I suspect for many of you too, involves far more hours wasted that could be spent contentedly tucked happily away in bed. Failing that, checking over the luggage for the umpteenth time before been quietly confident pants hadn't been forgotten. Even spending more time at the destination - despite the final nights bout of food poisoning, all before making that fateful return trip back in a nice new maglev carriage or popping on a pad and been beamed away.
When it comes to security, it always makes me ponder on the considerable number of passenger journeys taking place around the globe day by day, year upon year, who meet with a fate no worse than a greyhound discovering that the tasty morsel its chasing after to devour and fill its half starving stomach, is nothing more significant than insubstantial fluff. Yet there's more fear surrounding the act of flying than any other type of activity - bar sticking your head in a nuclear reactor, or playing russian roulette with a meth'd out crack head. Even dying by bungee jumping nowadays makes you into a sports martyr and garners you the respect you failed to garner whilst been alive.
Looking through the league tables of probability, you have less chance of dying from a bizarre kind of plane malfunction: whether caused by material fatigue, or some successful pants bomber managing to actually do the plane in (at roughly 0.000.014%), than you have of dying in the uk in a car accident which trots in somewhere around the region of 0.013%. Even the chance of been struck by lightning somewhere on the globe pops in at a measly 0.000.34%, which means you have a far greater chance of dying horribly from having your number called by a lightning bolt from the ledger in the sky, coming to you in the form of a plane incident.
But, put another way, more people die from falling birds, choking on a peanut or been hit in the head by a golf ball than dying sitting in seat 17A of an aeroplane. Sadly, before you get too carried away, there's more chance of you dying in a plane incident than chance of you winning the euromillions lottery jackpot, which is stuck way down the league of improbables at 0.000.000.86%.
Don't get me wrong, we're all (with 100% certainty) going to kick the bucket, pop our clogs, give back our birthday suits, feed the worms, be dust in the clouds... the only random variable is simply that of timing.
Of course security hawks will tell you that the amount of money spent on making us queue like sheep in a pen, or protestors been kettled has all been worth it, which in 2011 apparently reached the grand sum of $19.1bn and could top $45.13bn by 2018, according to security director news from research conducted by frost & sullivans 'global airport security market assessment' report.
Imagine that, $19.1bn in one year poured in to help ensure the safety of passengers and the security of flights. So it's good that all the money terminally spent stuffing all the security holes and hence the tide of terrorist menaces, that would otherwise cause that side of the fatality figures to er, explode, met with unqualified success. Apart from the few individuals who managed to get on-board aeroplanes with false passports or no passports at all. Such as the 12 year old boy in 2006 who managed to evade the heightened measures and boarded a plane at gatwick for lisbon, who was described by cnn in one of their less hysterical notorious moments as the “uk terror boy”; or the 11 year old boy who in 2012 managed to get on a manchester to italy flight, but by then this grievous feral terror plot was described in far less hysterical terms - and they were the first three search results which appeared from my query.
Incidents which no doubt happened decades before the billions were sequestrated or spent, it's just that we haven't realised it yet. On the other side, the manufacturers will claim just how fantastic and improved the security and designs of the new aeroplanes are, thus ensuring their ongoing improvements are suitably noticed by those signing the contracts on the one side of the fence. Which has nothing whatsoever to do with the necessity of prying through all your emails viewed as required reading by the spying brigade, occupying the other side of the fence.
Yet when you look at how full of holes and shoddy the security at most airports around the world are, it's more a question of how come the terrorists have failed to pull of more spectaculars than the relative few they have actually achieved?
In comparison train travel is relatively easy on the experience, the eye and body – if we ignore the tragic instance of the spanish crash on the 26th July 2013. The few occasions i've journeyed on the eurostar for example have been relatively quick, easy on the stress levels, but even more importantly (as i discovered on my last journey) if you glower a bit, people tend avoiding talking to you, which is a boon; especially if the trite conversations i had the displeasure of overhearing going on around me were anything at all to go by.
To be somewhat serious, i have always loathed travelling by air which i put down to been an uncontrollable sweater - even when young. It's the heat of the airports combined with the stifling air, and nothing whatsoever to do with the six bloody mary's i'd have knocked back in less than 30 minutes, just to steady and calm my nerves whilst stopping images from those bloody airplane disaster movies, let alone the disaster of the day from normal news, from crowding out anything else. The travel to and from the airport. The two plus waiting hours before take off, unless you're a diamond/platinum/uber-gold frequent flyer. The circling, the holding patterns, the person in front deciding to tilt their seat back when you're trying to eat the nutrition-less cardboard passing for regurgitated puke (someone had the temerity to call food), whilst juggling with a cup of burning coffee. The air-sickness, the drunk, and the person behind you who believes they're setting a new guinness book of records' - as the passenger annoyingly pressing the attendance bell (do they still call them that) more times than any other passenger, ever.
And sadly, I haven't even reached paris yet!
To be continued, before the month's out!
Refs:
Saturday, 27 July 2013
Who'd have thought!
I'm amazed how many people manage to find their way to this little rancid backwater of the interweebs, so i offer a curmudgeonly acknowledgement, whilst briefly wondering what you do for a living, as you you really must have nothing else better to do with your life than browse the web 24 hours a day!
For a while now, i've been succumbing to a maelstrom of inward angst causing me to mentally cook up new methods of despatching neighbours - after enduring 10 weeks (so far) of refurbishment: drilling, tiling, hammering; you would too, or be holidaying away somewhere nice and cool to regain some element of composure if your every waking moment was subject to 100+dB noise. Did i just say neighbours? I meant neighbours, shoppers and generally everyone i have the disagreeable misfortune of bumping into.
But even all of that combined with the thoughts of a further eight weeks of the same (this time on the other side) to take place, failed to prick my bubble of miserableness, nor locomate my fingers to swifkey all on their own.
However, somewhere amongst the mossy corners, disturbing thoughts and images caused me to increasingly twitch and cry out; screaming awake in the dead of day with sweat pouring from my orifices and the duvet not attempting to strangling me... Murray wins wimbledon... bah! England win at rugby... bah! The 2012 london olympics finally pays for itself and is making a profit?... bah! New royal baby?... bah!
What is this country coming to? It's starting to become covered in a smug over-weaning milieu of joy.
Mark my words, it'll all end in tears; and it will be tears the size of footballs smashing the glass-houses of happiness and jollity to smithereens!
For a while now, i've been succumbing to a maelstrom of inward angst causing me to mentally cook up new methods of despatching neighbours - after enduring 10 weeks (so far) of refurbishment: drilling, tiling, hammering; you would too, or be holidaying away somewhere nice and cool to regain some element of composure if your every waking moment was subject to 100+dB noise. Did i just say neighbours? I meant neighbours, shoppers and generally everyone i have the disagreeable misfortune of bumping into.
But even all of that combined with the thoughts of a further eight weeks of the same (this time on the other side) to take place, failed to prick my bubble of miserableness, nor locomate my fingers to swifkey all on their own.
However, somewhere amongst the mossy corners, disturbing thoughts and images caused me to increasingly twitch and cry out; screaming awake in the dead of day with sweat pouring from my orifices and the duvet not attempting to strangling me... Murray wins wimbledon... bah! England win at rugby... bah! The 2012 london olympics finally pays for itself and is making a profit?... bah! New royal baby?... bah!
What is this country coming to? It's starting to become covered in a smug over-weaning milieu of joy.
Mark my words, it'll all end in tears; and it will be tears the size of footballs smashing the glass-houses of happiness and jollity to smithereens!
Friday, 3 May 2013
Racist pepsco?
Not that i drink the foul brown stuff produced by this or the other companies. Well not unless i've just been cola-borded - and even that comment's sloshing with bad taste.
Hopefully, you can see from the video, just see how insidiously stereotypically rude the clip is/was and the justifiable reasoning for them removing it from their site - hence this educational use of it, and an acknowledgement (not that they need it) to the extra free advertising they've garnered from it.
Hopefully, you can see from the video, just see how insidiously stereotypically rude the clip is/was and the justifiable reasoning for them removing it from their site - hence this educational use of it, and an acknowledgement (not that they need it) to the extra free advertising they've garnered from it.
Sunday, 7 April 2013
A wee break
There's nothing quite so wonderful as having a wee break from the ongoing need to pop out a stray thought. To forgo the need to eviscerate boils of angst over the unceasing problems our species creates for itself - regardless of the amount of data available at our fingertips. Momentarily ignore the monthly record-breaking weather changes and simply sit down, shrug your shoulders, unwind, and relax.
To whit, i'm in a happy (yes you heard me) holding pattern. It won't last for ever, nothing ever does, but for the past few months i've been oddly content with a meh taking the place of frothing righteousness.
To whit, i'm in a happy (yes you heard me) holding pattern. It won't last for ever, nothing ever does, but for the past few months i've been oddly content with a meh taking the place of frothing righteousness.
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