The Problem with Empire - Futopia

Empires are nothing but problems blowing in the sand. Sometimes as useful as a pane of glass. Sometimes more painful, when sticking out your neck!

In the UK, a long time ago, labour was swept into power with a landslide majority by an electorate with high expectations of a bright hopeful future. So let’s briefly look back at john smith who probably would have been prime minister; and where we can only imagine the path not taken.

Smith was a politician who had more of a smidge of affinity for the working class than his eventual successor. He probably would have reformed the public sector; but not carve it up and hand over the juicy morsels; sorry, tender out unproductive parts to private organisations. With smith’s untimely death, the mantle of leadership passed to margaret beckett. A lovely woman, but not really  galvanising the country by the scruff of its neck sort of leader. No matter how hard I try, I can never imagine margaret riding bareback on a shining white charger, with her enemies heads bouncing off her bosom!

But what of china and it's one belt one road initiative? There are currently 68 countries participating in the drive, which some might uncharitably view as the beginnings of a light-touch hegemony, eventually ushering in a loose empire. Yes china has human rights issues, along with most countries and all empires through the ages. The right to simply be, is a fight people have had to rekindle from generation to generation, and that’s only through records which haven’t been destroyed by religious zealots.

What of the king of trumponia and the crystal clouded future? I suppose the best we can hope for is that as long as stubby fingers fail to find buttons of doom, and a nest of inept incompetents are turfed out, then at least there’ll be one less agent of chaos ready to bring the world cascading into flames.

But when you hear countries talking about bringing freedom for your people, gather all your precious assets and squirrel them away safe and secure. Call black gold, nothing but dirty water, and the soil’s only fit for flushing. Then to all intents you’re too dirt poor, and hardly worth the enslavement.

Oh lordy!

A little bit - Furenvy!

Flying flocks of envy and galloping migrations of fury have been reported from all over the world - if you forget to consume your news with a hefty dose of morning salts.

Countries are furious. Customers are furious - although that quickly descends into only being tepidly livid.  Viewers are furious and envious - apparently more the latter when watching tennis fans gorge on fresh strawberries & cream! Even stalwart shareholders in blue chip behemoths are furious, and that's before the first lot of sandwiches have had time to become crispy curls at the enviously livid agm!

You don't have to read that many columns, nor listen to many pundits, nor look too far before realising that everyone is either extremely furious, or green with unmitigated envy. It won't be long before you come across a headline, byline, or have spittle flecks hurled in your direction, to make you realise that this is how you should feel, if you encounter such a situation.

	Fury	Envy
Watching someone eat strawberries & cream.		𔐍
Seeing a giraffe killed for fun.	𔐍
Your local shop running out of your favourite tea.	𔐍
Having one of your oil tankers seized.	𔐍
What's athena doing with that orange chipmunk?	𔐍	𔐍

Yes half the world's furious whilst the other half's envious, as the world is going up in flames. Perhaps that hot under the collar sensation is starting to subconsciously niggle at us: making us fan a smidge faster, mop an extra bead of sweat, or hastily guzzle a litre of beer instead of gently sipping, or even force us to open another button.

We're furious! No we're envious! We're full of fury! No we're full of envy! We are, furenvy!

The Problem with Empire - Trumponia

Empires are nothing but problems blowing in the sand. Sometimes those sands find their way into the most sensitive of parts, then you’re really screwed!

The latest fully paid-up empire is looking a bit leaky around the edges and appears to be following the trajectory of rotting from the core. The phrase “give me your tired, your poor,... the wretched refuse of your teeming shore” briefly rang around the world as leading to a halcyon bastion of  democratic hope, to all those suffering oppression at the hands of their own despotic rulers, and the caprice of nature, or who simply wanted to do more than eat dust and actually have a life. Which is such a delightful thought, once we shove under the carpet: the genocidal attempt against the previous inhabitants, plus the slight issue of slavery for a cash crop to have someone pop a sugar cube into your finest royal worcestor. Strangely, that is a period some believe would be worth revisiting. No doubt along with the level of medical advances they had at the time, and a piss-pot by the bed.

Looking at the slow moving change taking place in the various governmental arms in the usa, you would be forgiven for thinking that a period of theocratic manifest destiny appears to be waiting, just over the horizon, to grab the stick of control from an increasingly fractured and side-tracked populace. Since they haven't had control since forever, it really doesn't make that much of a difference.

If you listen quietly, in-between the incessant chatter of evangelicals and bombast from neocons, you can hear them praying with expectant hope, that the age of armageddon really is this time, just around the corner. Which is odd, that some of the more fringe believers would then petition netflix to cancel the show good omens. A show which is neither shown on, nor produced by netflix. But why let a good bit of umbridge and disgruntlement go to waste, when you can publicly show just how much your wrongness should be appreciated. Terry pratchett would indeed have been amused, as was neil gaiman.

But if you are unaware that there are portions of the north american governing branches that seem hell-bent on having yet another war, then you weren’t following the events in venezuela, nor the ongoing sabre jousting currently taking place with iran. Don’t believe it? Watch a clip where john bolton’s idea of another country’s resource sovereignty, should really put the willies up those who believe there's any such thing as a special relationship.

The 45th potus nicely flows into that frame of state. Where outside of his follubleators (followers caught in a bubble whilst courting fawning yet discreet admiration from global dictators), he is viewed by some as nothing more than a charlatan, with the memory of an upside down goldfish - experiencing a very bad day.

Let’s briefly cast our minds back to the extreme republican attitude towards the 44th potus. You know that if he had committed a fraction of what the 45th’s already, or alleged to have done, then he would have been hounded out of office with the use of extra sharpened pitchforks, and that’s just by his fellow democrats.

It isn’t really that far a stretch to believe no matter the nonsense pouring from the 45th potus mouth and fingertips, the narrative permeating his base lends to his possible re-election. Which of course may be aided by a supreme court 5-4 ruling, basically saying federal courts can not intervene when states undertake  gerrymandering. A ruling that now, in theory, means states can redraw voting districts to their hearts content. Why have a district of only 2,000 people, when you can now have one that encompasses 50,000? A shame all those non-republican representatives will be shrunk to a hotdesk for two. But what can you do? That’s just how the voting times fall.

We now just need the usa’s very own information minister of pr to take center stage. Maybe the third time will be the charm. Then finally, we’ll know the regime has reached its very own point of peak unbelievability.

Sugar no spice!

Somewhat overheard - June 2019

“The best thing about this place is getting the hell out of it,” the landscapist said to the painter.

When even hardened lifers say the best thing about an area is leaving it, you know you might have made a teensy bit of an error moving there in the first place.

The Problem with Empire - Brexdamtwit

Empires are nothing but motes of sand blowing in the wind. Sometimes they phut around for hours; at other times, they whip along for centuries!

Empires have waxed and waned throughout the eons. They grow from slow mewling collections of the dirty unwashed who huddle expectantly around unsanitised watering holes. Periodically fight off four-legged animals stupid enough not to be at least partially eat-a-domesticable. Then move forward with shocked faux fervency, through the horror of public orgies held beneath prickly moist sheets.

The above usually occurs through a lens of no-nonsense rational expansion. Where higher beings nicely bubble along the top, insisting that their actions are aligned with the wishes of whichever deities they've taken as their own. This allows them to parade through their existence, cloaked with the hair of demurred gravitas. Luckily this also allows history to leave the most memorable of moments, as unexpected bonuses for future generations hilarity.

Society's progress rarely marches in a straight line, often experiencing setbacks peppered by climate, wars, the odd volcano, and those who dream of wealth, power, dominion and utter control, by whatever means necessary. Empires slowly peak in grandeur as their messy conundrums surpass the goals of interconnected villages, cities, regions, politicians and quickly jettisoned ideals; before, sadly, having the most insane of leaders inelegantly hoiked upon them. Experience terminal collapse. Then have the final indignity of ending up in the guts of some bookend eating worm.

When it comes to the less appealing sides of empire, they can have a deleterious effect on the populace of any country they are successful in overwhelming. Let's briefly take a very small country, which had a very large impact - belgium, and another country now called the democratic republic of congo. In the 1880’s belgium’s population was roughly around the 5.5 million mark whilst also been over 6,282(ish) km away from the congo. We, or probably very few of us will ever know the true death toll from that little romp into the interior. But with estimates ranging from 5 - 12 million people killed, outside of a world war they’d give any tyrannical dictator a run for the top spot of attempted genocide.

From such practices as severing a person’s hand, to outright murder, they could be viewed as lawful terrorists of their age. In terms of brutality, they still surpass many of the actions carried out by isis - in their onward march to an attempted caliphate. It’s probable the world might have mobilised had the group killed the same number of people as king leopold ii, if we believe there’s more than a raft of empathy and humanity amongst the global political brokers. But how many of us heard, or can recall hearing anything regarding such atrocities, whilst flicking snot balls during monotone history lectures?

History does repeat itself, it’s just that society usually has amnesia injected into its veins.

A little bit -They're in the money!

The 2019 rich-list popped screaming into the world in february. Looked around for it's platinum spoon. Then sulked off as the vast bulk of the media moved onto the next event.

We are usually informed by presenters, in tones of exasperated wonder, just how much these bestriding titans are worth. Whether they've risen, or how far they've fallen and despite their bad luck which benevolent charity they've donated so much of their wealth to. Nowadays, even that accolade is only confined to those lucky enough to be placed within the highly coveted bracket of minting it, otherwise known as the top five.

As a grouping, the top ten richest people in the world are worth roughly $743.8 billion. Put another way, if you lined up 37,190,000 people (let's say the entire population of afghanistan, or canada) and then proceeded to hand each individual (babies included) $20,000 no strings attached, collectively they would have the same amount as the worthiest ten richest individuals in the world.

If we continue cannon-balling along with this little mind trip, and take the world's 100 richest people (if my slightly watering eyes, and dodgy mathematics are anywhere near correct), they are collectively worth a clip at $3 trillion +/- $32 billion. Put another way, 151,590,000 destitute people could be given $20,000 a year, which they just might find useful. Already the top 26 billionaires own more than 50% of the world's population Of course this doesn't actually do much for a population of roughly 7.7bn and rising, but with exponential advances in technology, rising inequality, and rising hordes of the unemployable (simply down to technology doing so much work faster, better, and cheaper) there should be more talk about the existential and societal crisis which will descend on us. When that unfortunate self-inflected trauma dovetails with the self-inflected upheaval of climate change... well, might just order another bucket of popcorn.

Boris for PM?

Oh, how joyous.

Inflicted by TWAGs?

Are you living somewhere inflicted by tossers, wankers, arseholes, or godsends (TWAGs)? Four options likely to be heard when conducting a survey about neighbours. Whether you live in a palatial detached castle, or hunker down in the most kafkaesque blocks of flats many call home, horror stories abound when it comes to living by neighbours and the squabble-some descents into feuds.

Before i get totally carried away, it would be highly negligent of me to ignore those occasions which are scattered like hens teeth amongst swill, where we live by neighbours who are godsends of enlightenment.

When neighbours feud there is a high probability that noise will be somewhere in the top three of probable causes. For the most part this is down to the way buildings have been designed and constructed over the centuries, either from the observance of shoddy building practices and the need of making a quick buck, or from the use of shoddy materials again for the same reason, or when they were built who knew, or the management/freeholders of a building have failed to ensure that the covenants of leases pertaining to flooring are actually enforced; which they are generally quite loathe to do, until they're kicking and screaming in the flames of legal redress.

So why this particular piece? My usually quiet (except for the ‘if it has a hinge it must be made for slamming’) neighbours, decided it was a good idea to throw a party. Nothing wrong there you might say. True, apart from the fact that they didn’t bother to invite me, which is understandable and fair enough. Nor did they bother to drop a scribbled note saying as such, on the back of some junkmail they’d received and couldn’t be bothered to throw away, through the still functioning letterbox.

The party started. Surprisingly the first three hours were tolerable. If the party had remained close to that for the rest of the evening, it would have been enjoyable night for all concerned. At some point after the third hour, the booze and happy makers had reached their zenith, as noise levels finally breached the 65 decibels mark causing the screen on the monitoring app to turn yellow.

The noise from the party continued to rise. I was reluctant to increase my headset’s volume, as that might have resulted in hearing damage. Instead i removed it and switched the computer's speakers on. The aim was not to fully drown out the unwanted external sound, but allow me to hear what i was listening to without the potential degredation of hearing. Initially, i couldn’t hear the sound from the speakers with any clarity (noise from the party), so i whacked up the volume slider until the sound output ranged from 45 to 50 decibels. I’m sure many of you with an interest in the more technical aspects of sound, must be shaking your heads and wondering have i lost the plot. For reference, the level for background music and normal conversion in a room is stated as 60 decibels. So my four 8 x 10… cm speakers, pumping out 50 decibels, could be viewed as being well within reasonable levels. 

Sadly, due to the paper-bag nature of the dwellings the volume from the speakers was sufficient to reach their ears. The reaction was almost instant. An increase in stamping, especially by a female guest at the party, who seemed to take exceptional umbrage at the 45 - 50 decibels levels drifting towards her ears. There was a ratcheting of door slams. Objects being dropped on the floor. All mixed with general laughter and momentous hilarity.

Noise levels from the party started peaking at 73 decibels, just 9 decibels short of the all time great of 81 decibels, which was secured by the previous tenants. The screen on the app turned fluorescent red.

So how did the noise generated by the party compare to a gang of motorcyclists driving by? At approximately 10:09 am the following day, one such gang obliged. The bikers managed to zoom by at roughly 63.9 decibels, 10 decibels softer than the peak of the party, which is actually quite a feat.

What about the four words which started this fervid piece? It was whilst reading a press release of a survey from Slater & Gordon Lawyers, where two thirds of respondents said they were living by nuisance neighbours, and the overheard frayed heated words that regularly take place in the cheek by jowl cities, we lovingly call home. The following graph is a breakdown of the most pressing neighbourly concerns.

Source: data from Slater & Gordon Lawyers

I should count myself lucky, i only have the first and last ones… although, pets (and humans, if the attached toilet paper was any indication) defecating underneath windows, and footballs being thrown/kicked against windows, might just be included in the second and fourth… dammit!

Not sure when that survey was done except recently. So how have things changed over the years? In 2011, jill insley wrote a piece in the guardians money blog called “Everybody needs good neighbours … but few seem to have them.” The issues reviewed at the time found that three in five people were annoyed by loud voices or arguments, blaring music and tv’s. A quarter were irritated by door slamming. Another quarter by noisy pets. And one in five by hearing their neighbours having sex. Let me see, loud voices - check, door slamming - check, pets - check, neighbours having- god dammit, not again!

Somewhat overheard - April 2016

The then employment minister pritti patel mp on the today program 28 april 2016, talking to sarah montague.

"I'm talking about…  rolling back workers rights… It was the British Parliament and British Governments that have stood up and introduced… regulations and red tape, and the cost of regulations and red tape, on British businesses. I'm speaking about small businesses and regulations… regulations and those rules… what is appropriate, and what is not appropriate… I’ve already said several times we'd have full… regulations and meddlesome… red tape… regulations… regulations… regulations… These are regulations that stand up… and be outvoted constantly.”

In alternate reality 45823....

“Before we begin our next show 'Orange is the old Lemon', breaking news from the leafy suburbs of Slurry Peath. Hildabrad, just what is going on?”

“Yes, good evening Daviard. We are just outside the home of constituent mp Mr Cove. We have been led to believe that he will soon be making a statement, regarding. Wait, hold on. The front door has just being opened a crack; and yes, Mr Cove's shiny pate is peeking out, and I can confirm that his mouth is moving. Quick point it over the there.”

"...my name is Michael Cove, and I have a confession. I took cocaine 20 years ago when I was working in a pig farm, and I was so off my tits that I might have made sweet happy love to Betsy, once or twice. It was a mistake, over which I experience deep re-. No, sod it. It was the happiest years of my life. Vote for me, to ensure everything's all legalised, tested for purity, and taxed the same as alcohol and cigarettes. Buy two, and get your own Betsy for free. Vote for me!"

Dimensional porkies

Magical Unicorns

Oh Daddy

The donkey and the bear - is it really that long!

When artificial intelligence finally surpasses humanity over any number of given tasks and can repeat those tasks, all without human intervention, then we’ll have arrived at the door-jamb of obsolescence, and I can hand over my drafts, so allowing for the odd corrective tweak.  Now, after firmly hoisting myself at the end of part ii, it’s time to move swiftly through part iii.  

Trubrexaggedon - part iii

Looking across the globe the realms of political square dancing seem to be going through a slight pinprick of turmoil.  If I had to pick a point in time, in which the general air of pensive foreboding hangs like a spectre of damocles (like ids at a hip and fun party, celebrating a victory shredding even the barest of safety nets from the most vulnerable in society) then that date hovers somewhere between the years 1928 & 1933.

Many part-time wielders of power (prostrating themselves in gratitude after reaching the executive level washrooms, come slinging out time in the public realm) appear furiously intent on appeasing their zealous, increasingly public, lever pulling power-tuggers, whilst trying to ensure voters vote the way that’s expected of them, but ideally, not having them vote at all.  However, even if the electorate did vote there are always ways to get around that particular bit of planking in the eye - democracy, or no democracy.  Pfft.  As we’ve seen throughout history, all that’s needed is a popular media uprising and soon enough people will trot out that hackneyed phrase “there’s no smoke without fire,” with a third of the readers vehemently, or partially at any rate, believing the regurgitation, and laws changing accordingly. 

Not quite the same as unleashing an army of killer nanobots in need of some real world testing, but it certainly does come a close second.  And why stop at nanobots when robots are becoming increasingly more flexible and heartwarmingly helpful - here, here, and oh yes, here.  After all, where there's a will and funds, and the funds for slaughter are always certainly there, then the ways are becoming practically limitless.

Mix into that heady sloop of rabid squirrels: sudden jolts of climate change, a seasoning twist (or two) of global hunger, an asteroid strike, a sprinkle of world-wide terror, and a stroke of light apocalyptic proportions - adding a dash of quintessential piquant essence.  Naturally, we haven’t quite finished.  Something interesting yet old, such as a new antibiotic-resistant plague, which is also 100% multi-vector communicable, and has at least a 98.5% fatality rate.  That would of course see off most of the populace making the rest, for those that survive, far more amenable and suitably cowering under a bounty of weapons pointed in their direction by autonomous entities a far better prospect to look forward to, for those inside a nice and intact dry base of operations.

Where was I?  Ah yes, the donkey and the bear.

The ongoing, self-inflicted car crashes on either side of the pond (the usa and uk for those in any doubt), show no signs of immediately petering out, or really being nipped in the bud.  It reminds me of, just for a split second after you leave a club, that you truly believe that you can fly, before gravity rudely distributes your body all over the floor.  But let’s not dwell on past memories, moving on.

Considering the scale, there doesn’t seem to be that much news regarding the panama, paradise, or even peculiar papers anymore which considering the large scale filching, is to be expected.  If we take a brief step back, we can really feel deep down that there’s probably going to be a third instalment.  Waiting, pensively.  Over there.  Just beyond that flaming horizon.

With nobody really brought to book (apart from the icelandic premier and i’m not even sure he counts) and the ongoing deaths of investigative journalists it looks as though justice is being shoved firmly back into its box, whilst being sat on by law.  No doubt justice’s full force will be wheeled to bear when an impoverished and poverty struck person decides they need to nick a loaf of bread, or face starvation.  That will teach them. Have their face firmly rubbed in it and displayed across the press, as a freak for public excoriation.

Considering the zeal with which some of the press salivate over any chance to castigate members of the workshy caught pilfering a bottle of water from the local branch of poundlight, due to a lack of rainfall and the local council having to choose between: ensuring the public fountains & water taps are kept running, or keeping the public libraries open for a few hours.  In their great wisdom, the council decided that on leaving the public libraries open!  Not only would that provide an avenue for people to read about how wonderful it was to drink water, but they could also find out how glorious it would be to actually eat food consisting of nutrients and micro nutrients, building to that delirious result of mouthwatering taste, instead of their usual bowl of grey dust.  Surely that would be far better than actually having someone lean over a tap, trying to get some temporary relief?  And if they’re dead from starvation, well it’s a job for the obituary column.

Gargh, the donkey and the bear!

If we look back at all those countries which have either expressed a wish to, or attempted to remove themselves from the petrodollar and take on a different currency, such as the euro, or in the case of libya whilst under the firm control of gaddafi, form a new continent-wide currency to replace the dollar as favoured currency to trade in oil, then without exception, the drums of war started to peal, and the labelling of those countries as dangerous to the utter existence of all around them reached a roaring crescendo - well, that is in the usa media and political circles.  But those countries didn’t really have the clout of somewhere like, china.  Yes, China - and this is something which completely passed me by, and I didn’t see on any of my newsfeeds - on the 26 march 2018 started trade in yuan-dominated oil futures contracts.  Some hail this as the beginning of the end of the petrodollar, whilst others believe such talk is overblown and the petrodollar dominance will be fine for years to come, which it could well be.  But over time all things change, and the fate of the us dollar will be the same as all others before it, bulldozed by the onward march of history.  For many in the usa and other countries around the world, let’s hope it’s a nice and orderly transition of influence and not a worst case scenario.  An event, i have no doubt, that will be ably presided over by the 45th potus, and  the coterie of mountebanks.

Oh dammit, i nearly forgot. The donkey and the bear!

When we forget...

“Bloody computer, useless pile of shit.  It’s first thing, and I have an report for this morning’s meeting, useless IT!”  

“Thank you Sir.  Please wait a moment...

I’ve diagnosed the problem…

Did you remove the network cable before the weekend?”

“Er… er…"

Click.

Taking back control

Oh isn’t a week a really long time?! So here’s the recap from part I. Orange buttons, buffoons, garden of eden, and thanks for reading. Finally, a part ii which has made it out of the fervid recesses. So before this destructs, let’s take a gentle gander back through time and across the spinning globe, before it bursts into a gargantuan nuclear flower...

Trubrexaggedon - part ii

USA

Ah the american dream. Where not pouring an endless stream of money into advertising, nor having 2,868,691 less people vote for you than your opponent by dint of an electoral college, ensures you win an election? Land of the free? More land of the extremely malleable - and you won't believe how long it took before that description replaced the far less charitable one!

A land where the carrot of wealth fights alongside the pendant of superficiality, and the entire balloon is periodically pricked by an underclass of consciousness. Once that pesky thing is firmly flung back in to its box before any serious damage can be done, and the balloon is fully patched, the citizenry can safely be returned to their mewling senses. Just in time to see the president tuck into an opponent with a carving knife, live on air, whilst dementedly screaming the presidency is mine for life.

That might just be the intensity of smacked realism needed for the moderately minded to finally see where the horror of electoral inactivity could truly lead. Hopefully that'll occur before they head to the polls in their droves, so turfing out the power hungry, small government (unless it involves getting hands over and into your private parts - especially if virginal offerings, sex optional) minded, power-crazed, empathically devoid dingbats.

Talking of manipulated carrots. The current potus (the 45th) allegedly suffers from partial cushing’s syndrome; and wherever there’s a troubling hotspot with temperatures in excess of 50 degrees, apparently leans towards placing a palatial edifice within striking distance of said trouble-spots. Strategically placed icbms dotted inside the gargantuan name overlooking the rubble, and any rabble with the temerity to cause a ruffled combover to slightly flop in a force 0.0015 breeze. So helping to ensure stocks continue to maintain their healthy defense payouts.

President thin skin is the undisputed leader of the free world. His administration of multi-billionaires studiously looking out for the little guy, and concentrating on the important things. Such as: cutting inheritance tax for all those people living wage packet to wage packet, but who have at least 14 plus million dollars they can squirrel away to their offspring, should they shuffle off this pie mud. Visiting the poor, the misfortunate, the stereotyped and downtroddenly maligned; providing them all with vhs copies of history programmes showing a better time in history, when workers were all hard at work, and the underprivileged knew their place.

Austria

Electing a non-fascist as president. Then slamming the brakes on, before pitching the pendulum fiercely into reverse.

UK

The sphincters charter, taking back control; and soon, fresh from across the pond... best before the end of the apocalypse re-packaged chlorinated gmo chickens.

Yes the empire's better days of bringing the rule of slaughter, divide and conquer, appear to be well behind it. Now leaders seem submerged by the alternatives of fear. No longer able to distinguish one mad max future from another, believing the only thing preventing a descent into sure madness is by monitoring, storing, and archiving everything everyone does should in-depth analysis years down the line be required. Should citizens dare think, let alone do anything mildly stimulatingly subversive. Protest over fair pay, or another duck pond not fit for a gnat? Tough. The checkbox for your permanent monitoring has been automatically checked and everything you do from now on will be stored for the safety and security of the nation, until the end of time.

Such moves are only a boon to nationalists everywhere. Who utilise them as affirmative signs the others shouldn’t be allowed in to their particular patches of twisted reality - let alone interbreed with pure stock. Whilst so many of their fellow compatriots (for whatever reason) fall on less than stellar times, their goto pissing post is always the same: it’s everybody else who’s different from us fault, and should be blamed for our ills. Usually though, if you spare more than two seconds to read the headlines before skipping to the next click-bait piece, the others (most of them at any rate) are usually escaping something: bombs being dropped, markets been blown up, beheadings for not believing in whichever sky fairy is the most popular in the region at the time. Economic systems decimated from pilfering politicians, bribing global corporations, small-minded henchmen, or possibly years of drought leading to pictures that usually depict a malnourished african child in a woollen jumper who's forgotten how to use his hands when the film crew are there, whilst the flies treat him as an aircraft carrier.

People drink in the nonsense spouted by most of the billionaire owned press, either not knowing or not caring enough to ensure their mental goalposts are sufficiently robust to view the material with a major helping of suspicion. But when reports of people with a more conservative frame of mind, indicate that they believe most people are guilty until otherwise proven innocent, then why on earth would the billionaire owning class do anything that would jepordise the status quo that ensures their billions remain untouched, by the trolls further down the ladder?

Perhaps if the top 0.001% of the people didn’t own more than the lowest 60%, and instead turned from fluffing their own nests into attempting to understand why so many parts of the world are, for so many, such steaming piles of dung heaps. Then just maybe, we could have a world where more people were able to reach their potential, and who knows, perhaps society as whole might just feel a little bit better off for it.

And before this continues in part iii somewhere around the corner, i hope you all had a wonderful christmas and a very happy new year.

Trubrexaggedon?

Sometimes we need to squirrel ourselves away to recharge rundown and corroded batteries. Sort of take a little time out.  To try and remember precisely where we’ve squirrelled away all of those batteries.  Especially when ingesting and processing the endless streams of guff pouring over wires, or through the ether, has the unfortunate side effect of exponentially draining our energy reserves, as mind-boggling levels of worldwide guff grows with eye bleeding rapidity.

Part I

Oh blimey.

Oh dear.  

Oh my omnipresent sky biscuit and creator of all. Whom despite being all knowing all seeing, and all powerful (albeit with a short fuse) just can't put his/her/it’s own creations in order and needs one of those creations (a bunch of semi-intelligent, arse scratching, missile waving bipeds) as poxy fodder to help win a simmering cosmic war.  A war which will finally be concluded when the hamsters of the apocalypse pop along to firmly press the orange finger of pudginess, into the gaping windblown crack of wanton armageddon - or something tautologically horrific!

Lest we forget, this familial bust-up (for a fifth of the world’s population at any rate) began with the brightest and most favoured feeling put out by some upstart knuckle-draggers daddy had the temerity to pop into existence, and started paying far too much attention to.

The flouncing and pouting was partially inspired by a towering pillar of narcissism, and nascent realisation the gullible and easily manipulated bipeds were more than ripe for the picking and for a bit of upselling, with nothing more requisite than a dingle-dangling delicious bite of an apple.  

I’m sorry, but if the fate of the universe depended on whether some grunting mud-slingers, apparently without prior knowledge of good or evil (nor seemingly much knowledge of anything else outside of lewd behaviour) decided to eat the forbidden fruit, as the magic speaking snake said it tasted soooo so good, then that surely smacks of juvenile entrapment, along with been a bit of a flaw in the master plan.  After all they hadn’t even reached their first birthday; and which parent expects a toddler less than one year old to do anything it’s told.  But who am I to quibble over the elated finer points of reverential godly existences!

Moving on.

What a year 2016 turned out to be!?  Yes this is a bit late, and yes no one cares, and do you have to read it?  Of course.

This was going to be the bright and shiny 2017 new year's day post.  But i’ve been stuffing my face with popcorn and cream cakes ever since the year birthed into being.  My open mouth refusing to stay shut, as my eyes stared in amazement at the reality tv series that had overrun the newsreels. Launching us kicking, and screaming down our very own dystopian version of the twilight zone.

Dependent on which part of the social, political, empathic, climatic, sociopathic, bring-on-the-trumpets side of revelations you inhabit, either your throat is hoarse from all the shouting and screaming - and that's only at your heathen neighbours with the temerity to fly a rainbow flag - or you haven’t stopped shaking your head, as each mind-boggling month is followed by yet another, even more out there, boggling month of creaming uncertainty.

So with 2016 firmly in the rear view of the great knackers bin of history, and 2018 in the wings, hardhat firmly wedged behind baroque velvety curtains - eyes peeking through embryonic camouflaged hands - it’s time to take a gentle gander back through the briarbush of popcorn-stuffing stuff, which had people sputtering burnt toast across and over their better half - whilst listening to the news, first thing of a morning.  

So, and in no particular order, let’s take a gentle gander back through time and across the spinning globe, before it bursts into a gargantuan nuclear flower...

Which in time honoured tradition, will be continued in part ii, next week.   

Telegraph Hill

Every now and then, in-between reading, listening, and being mesmerised by the deranged goings on of the loons in the current american presidential cycle, sighing over the ever bleaching coral, extrapolating when warmer land and sea temperatures will lead to rapid sea rise, massive migrations, wondering just what goes through the mind of a suicide bomber as they exit this life; my fingers wander across the periodic little gem.

Telegraph hill. A short film, from paulo berberan, which held my attention through all of its' 14 minutes, and there are still two scenes which refuse to budge from my minds eye – despite numerous attempts at swatting.