Monday, August 28, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Cartoons
How many of us were brought up on a diet of Tom and Jerry, and Wile Coyote? I was, and thoroughly enjoyed them as they stumbled their way through the toon taking hits that would fell buildings. And oh how I laughed. And judging by the moralistic animations (they aren't cartoons - it's not a cartoon unless someone has an anvil dropped on their head) that our kids are fed (brainwashed?) these days, I truly lament their passing.
They say they are a bad influence on kids; that kids will copy what they see. Well, I've watched a million cartoons and not once have I tried to hit someone in the face with a frying pan. Been close a few times though! :)
God, I hated that mouse! Poor Tom.
They say they are a bad influence on kids; that kids will copy what they see. Well, I've watched a million cartoons and not once have I tried to hit someone in the face with a frying pan. Been close a few times though! :)
God, I hated that mouse! Poor Tom.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Stem cell
Tony Abbott, the Health Minister makes a fair point; that being that we can't allow the risk of scientists creating 'life to order' (my term, not his but essentially, that's his point). This would be all well and good were it not for Mr Abbots motivation behind such a speech. His rabid catholicism is what drives this opinion, much like it did in the abortion drug RU 486, (or something like that term - don't quote me) issue.
He has repeatedly failed to show impartiallity in such matters and then has the audacity to cite ethics in his speech? Scandalous behaviour and Mr Abbott should be removed from this particular portfolio forthwith!
He has repeatedly failed to show impartiallity in such matters and then has the audacity to cite ethics in his speech? Scandalous behaviour and Mr Abbott should be removed from this particular portfolio forthwith!
Smoking tragic?
A picture was printed in a national paper of a celebrity smoking. The latter word of the two in title was used in reference.
It's almost as if the anti-smoking lobby, bereft of constructive ideas to combat the rate of new users, have resorted to infantile playground insults.
In fact, smoking isn't tragic; it actually is pretty cool. The effects of smoking tobacco aren't always what one would want (whilst remembering the incontrovertible fact that death or serious illness is NOT guaranteed), but the act of smoking a cigarette is one of...aloof, thoughtful, passing the time, indulgence.
It's a pastime that's hard to explain to a non-smoker; a time, on occasion, where the individual reflects on a subject while enjoying the inhalation.
Consider the Marlboro Man. Love him or hate him (and what he stood for), he looked...well, that could be debated for hours, but it under no circumstances, was nerdy, tragic or UN-cool.
Note to Anti-smoking Lobby: Lying to the public, no matter how easily-manipulated and explioted they may be is just impeding your intended progress.
On one occasion, the threat of blindness was employed in an obviously desperate attempt to dissuade people from smoking (or the taking up thereof). To my surprise, this ploy was largely ignored by said public. The general opinion was that - 'y'might as well tell me my head's gonna drop off'. Such an obviously outrageous claim it was.
The celebrity who motivated this piece was also holding a glass of white (less than half full, so the celebrity may well have been on her way to getting tanked). Howcome the dangers of 'the demom drink' are never vilified? Alcohol has killed at least as many over the years. More to the point, it's ruin of lives, extends well beyond the instigator of the offence.
It's almost as if the anti-smoking lobby, bereft of constructive ideas to combat the rate of new users, have resorted to infantile playground insults.
In fact, smoking isn't tragic; it actually is pretty cool. The effects of smoking tobacco aren't always what one would want (whilst remembering the incontrovertible fact that death or serious illness is NOT guaranteed), but the act of smoking a cigarette is one of...aloof, thoughtful, passing the time, indulgence.
It's a pastime that's hard to explain to a non-smoker; a time, on occasion, where the individual reflects on a subject while enjoying the inhalation.
Consider the Marlboro Man. Love him or hate him (and what he stood for), he looked...well, that could be debated for hours, but it under no circumstances, was nerdy, tragic or UN-cool.
Note to Anti-smoking Lobby: Lying to the public, no matter how easily-manipulated and explioted they may be is just impeding your intended progress.
On one occasion, the threat of blindness was employed in an obviously desperate attempt to dissuade people from smoking (or the taking up thereof). To my surprise, this ploy was largely ignored by said public. The general opinion was that - 'y'might as well tell me my head's gonna drop off'. Such an obviously outrageous claim it was.
The celebrity who motivated this piece was also holding a glass of white (less than half full, so the celebrity may well have been on her way to getting tanked). Howcome the dangers of 'the demom drink' are never vilified? Alcohol has killed at least as many over the years. More to the point, it's ruin of lives, extends well beyond the instigator of the offence.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Modern vehicles
Has anyone noticed how cars are being built with the assumption that it's inevitable they're going to be crashed? Airbags front, back, middle, above, below, around, beside... We'll soon be calling them aircars. Why don't we just completely surround them with a great big bag?
Although here's a thought... what about, oh, I dunno, maybe - TEACH MORONS HOW TO BLOODY DRIVE!!!
Although here's a thought... what about, oh, I dunno, maybe - TEACH MORONS HOW TO BLOODY DRIVE!!!
Wheel clamps
So the authorities in their money grabbing wisdom have decided to attach wheelclamps to vehicles whose owners owe outstanding fines? Fine, you do that. I, in my innovative wisdom, have a grinder. How much does a wheelclamp cost? Coupla hundred? A grinder wheel costs about ten bucks. As they say in America - you do the math. Grinder -1, wheelclamps -nil. Heh-heh
Road death
Howcome every time some bonehead gets run over by a car, it's the driver on whom the attention is focussed?
Where you going to fast/too slow, not paying attention, had you been drinking, under the influence of drugs? And so on and so on.
The pedestrian, short of him/her actually throwing themselves in an obvious suicide attempt, in front of a vehicle, is never blamed.
How does society stop this lemming-like carnage? Well! I have the answer. It's a bit out of left field and may be considered by some as simplistic but I'll put it out there and see. Okay...ready...here it is - Pedestrians - STAY OFF THE BLOODY ROAD!! I don't drive on the footpath, you stay of the road. If ever there was a single purpose structure, it's a road. it doesn't double up as a playground or a carpark (unless of course you're talking about the M4 at rush hour). Still not a play area, though. It's for one thing and one thing only - traffic.
When I was a boy (God, I sound like my granda), at Primary School, I, and the rest of the school, were taught a thing called 'The Green Cross Code'. In this code there is a line which states, and I quote (roughly - it was a lonnng time ago after all)- 'when it's safe to cross, do so, looking and listening all the time'. Meaning exactly that; keep looking. Vehicles have a habit of just appearing from seemingly nowhere. Out of side streets, from parking spaces, wherever. Now, how many times have we seen people look each way (surprisingly, not always each way) and then step out onto the road willy-nilly as if that one brief look acts as some sort of magic talisman protecting them from all evil?
Is it any wonder they get cleaned up? Bloody pedestrians - think they have a God-given right to cross whenever the hell they like. And the Pedestrian council? Those tossers who whine on and on about 'the roads there to share'. What the hell's THAT all about? If there's a semi-trailer bearing down on me, I'm sharing nothing - the road's ALL HIS. Pedestrian council indeed; a bit like the underwear wearing brigade. Time for the Big Stick methinks.
That's all folks! And hey! Be careful out there!
Where you going to fast/too slow, not paying attention, had you been drinking, under the influence of drugs? And so on and so on.
The pedestrian, short of him/her actually throwing themselves in an obvious suicide attempt, in front of a vehicle, is never blamed.
How does society stop this lemming-like carnage? Well! I have the answer. It's a bit out of left field and may be considered by some as simplistic but I'll put it out there and see. Okay...ready...here it is - Pedestrians - STAY OFF THE BLOODY ROAD!! I don't drive on the footpath, you stay of the road. If ever there was a single purpose structure, it's a road. it doesn't double up as a playground or a carpark (unless of course you're talking about the M4 at rush hour). Still not a play area, though. It's for one thing and one thing only - traffic.
When I was a boy (God, I sound like my granda), at Primary School, I, and the rest of the school, were taught a thing called 'The Green Cross Code'. In this code there is a line which states, and I quote (roughly - it was a lonnng time ago after all)- 'when it's safe to cross, do so, looking and listening all the time'. Meaning exactly that; keep looking. Vehicles have a habit of just appearing from seemingly nowhere. Out of side streets, from parking spaces, wherever. Now, how many times have we seen people look each way (surprisingly, not always each way) and then step out onto the road willy-nilly as if that one brief look acts as some sort of magic talisman protecting them from all evil?
Is it any wonder they get cleaned up? Bloody pedestrians - think they have a God-given right to cross whenever the hell they like. And the Pedestrian council? Those tossers who whine on and on about 'the roads there to share'. What the hell's THAT all about? If there's a semi-trailer bearing down on me, I'm sharing nothing - the road's ALL HIS. Pedestrian council indeed; a bit like the underwear wearing brigade. Time for the Big Stick methinks.
That's all folks! And hey! Be careful out there!
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Euthanasia
After waiting for some time, I finally watched a particular film recently. It starred and was directed by a famous 'Hollywood' actor, the legendary Clint Eastwood. The reason why I waited was because this actor/director's films sometimes are hit and miss affairs. His westerns are legendary, as are his cop films. And many more. But sometimes, in my opinion, there are films he's made that are (again, in my opinion), mediocre. This film, I thought was one such film.
I couldn't have been more wrong. In this world of manufactured...rubbish! (is the best description), films, especially American ones (no offence to the Yanks) are a compendium of big explosions, stunts, dopey one-liners et al. Films with soul, that have an effect on you, are few and far between. This is one of those rarities. The film of which I speak is 'Million Dollar Baby'. When I first heard of it when it was released, it was touted as an award-winner (which it was), but nevertheless it was about boxing.
Mention of boxing immediately conjured up an image of Sly Stallone getting the shit beat out of him for fourteen rounds, then making a superhuman comeback in the last round to claim victory amongst much celebration and patriotism (Rocky 4 at least). The Rocky series actually are very entertaining, if one doesn't take them too seriously. (You just have to see Eddie Murphy's "RAW" live concert to see the way he gives it to Italians, after they've seen a Rocky film - priceless stuff). Funny, but that's for another post. There's nothing funny about this one.
Back to the film in question. To precis: girl boxes, girl gets hurt, the end. Doesn't tell you much, I know, but I don't want to spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it. For those people, go out and rent/buy it immediately - I guarantee you won't be disappointed.
The effect it had on this author was...tremendous. It was so not what I expected and frankly, blew me away. It is an extremely moving piece of acting and a glimpse of this author's own personal nightmare (one he hopes he NEVER has to suffer).
And so, to the main point and title of this post - euthanasia.
A very emotive subject indeed and it divides nations with the majority being on the side of keeping it illegal. Human life, they say, should be maintained at all costs, no matter what. Christians and the religious claim it to be only God's right to take it away. That it's sacrosanct. That it's above all else; that regardless of whatever else may be sacrificed, human life must be protected.
Well, that's all well and good in most circumstances but consider this. Take a moment and really consider this.
A man driving home to his wife one evening is involved in a car crash. His neck is broken, but he doesn't die; instead he's paralysed from the neck down. Doctors tell him while he lies there unable to move anything, that this is it - he'll never recover. He'll be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. This once proud, active, family man, who used to carry his boy on his shoulders, now can't even turn his head to look at him. What kind of life does he now have? Living in a wheelchair with the only movement by blowing into a tube. A perpetual spectator. Never again a competitor. If he wants to slip his mortal coil, then why shouldn't he? Who am I to tell him he can't?
In the bed next to him, a woman is dying of cancer; her body screams with the intense pain the disease brings. All day every day, she begs to be released from this, her own personal hell. The doctors administer the most powerful pain-killing drugs in their arsenal - it doesn't help, still she suffers. Again she begs for release. In moments of lucidity, which are few and far between because of the cocktail of drugs given to her, she wonders why these people, who claim to love her, won't set her free from the torture. She lies there 24/7 with only her tortured mind to go round and round.
While she suffers, the world goes on. They talk about compassion and empathy; care and love; laws and right/wrong. Not once do they talk about how she feels. Not once is her opinion considered, instead dismissed with condecension. 'Aw, she doesn't know what she's saying - she's delirious'. Of course at times she's friggin delirious - with pain. But in a part of her mind, she knows exactly how things are. And she doesn't want to endure it anymore. This woman, who is slowly dying under the most extreme and intense pain as her insides are eaten away becomes something over whom the politicians quabble. The lawlords cite reasons why they can't allow it; they prolong her agony while they eat lunch at fancy restaurants. They debate it over chardonnay like it's a school competition, each trying to outdo the other with their knowledge (alleged) of morality and ethics. Meanwhile, the woman suffers on, dying to die.
Her family moan and bleat - 'what about me, she's my mother/sister/daughter. What am I going to do? I'll be heartbroken. How can I live without her. It's too hard'. And on and on they whine about me, me, me. While their relative suffers in agony and begs and pleads again and again to be put out of her misery.
You selfish...#@*>*#@, the lot of ye. When? Tell me when this became about you. Are you seriously suggesting that you perpetuate someone's private hell, just because you'll feel...mournful or sad? That they should endure the most extreme suffering just so you can avoid having to make a decision that might leave you upset?
I'm having difficulty putting this into words. I can hardly believe it. These...these...invertabrates, that are so weak, and so selfish, that they'd rather see someone suffer than release them, just to cater for their own self-indulgent feelings make me SICK!! I'm almost speechless. Gonna have to stop now.
I can only hope and pray to whomever's listening, that if ever I'm in that insufferable position, someone who loves me, really loves me, and doesn't just throw the word about like a teenage popstar, will stand up and be counted.
Me? I'm more than willing to do time over it. If someone I love is in such desperate pain and suffering and, with a clear mind (I'll know, believe me, I'll know) asks for release, then as God Almighty is my judge, I'll not let them down.
There are worse things than death!
I couldn't have been more wrong. In this world of manufactured...rubbish! (is the best description), films, especially American ones (no offence to the Yanks) are a compendium of big explosions, stunts, dopey one-liners et al. Films with soul, that have an effect on you, are few and far between. This is one of those rarities. The film of which I speak is 'Million Dollar Baby'. When I first heard of it when it was released, it was touted as an award-winner (which it was), but nevertheless it was about boxing.
Mention of boxing immediately conjured up an image of Sly Stallone getting the shit beat out of him for fourteen rounds, then making a superhuman comeback in the last round to claim victory amongst much celebration and patriotism (Rocky 4 at least). The Rocky series actually are very entertaining, if one doesn't take them too seriously. (You just have to see Eddie Murphy's "RAW" live concert to see the way he gives it to Italians, after they've seen a Rocky film - priceless stuff). Funny, but that's for another post. There's nothing funny about this one.
Back to the film in question. To precis: girl boxes, girl gets hurt, the end. Doesn't tell you much, I know, but I don't want to spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it. For those people, go out and rent/buy it immediately - I guarantee you won't be disappointed.
The effect it had on this author was...tremendous. It was so not what I expected and frankly, blew me away. It is an extremely moving piece of acting and a glimpse of this author's own personal nightmare (one he hopes he NEVER has to suffer).
And so, to the main point and title of this post - euthanasia.
A very emotive subject indeed and it divides nations with the majority being on the side of keeping it illegal. Human life, they say, should be maintained at all costs, no matter what. Christians and the religious claim it to be only God's right to take it away. That it's sacrosanct. That it's above all else; that regardless of whatever else may be sacrificed, human life must be protected.
Well, that's all well and good in most circumstances but consider this. Take a moment and really consider this.
A man driving home to his wife one evening is involved in a car crash. His neck is broken, but he doesn't die; instead he's paralysed from the neck down. Doctors tell him while he lies there unable to move anything, that this is it - he'll never recover. He'll be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. This once proud, active, family man, who used to carry his boy on his shoulders, now can't even turn his head to look at him. What kind of life does he now have? Living in a wheelchair with the only movement by blowing into a tube. A perpetual spectator. Never again a competitor. If he wants to slip his mortal coil, then why shouldn't he? Who am I to tell him he can't?
In the bed next to him, a woman is dying of cancer; her body screams with the intense pain the disease brings. All day every day, she begs to be released from this, her own personal hell. The doctors administer the most powerful pain-killing drugs in their arsenal - it doesn't help, still she suffers. Again she begs for release. In moments of lucidity, which are few and far between because of the cocktail of drugs given to her, she wonders why these people, who claim to love her, won't set her free from the torture. She lies there 24/7 with only her tortured mind to go round and round.
While she suffers, the world goes on. They talk about compassion and empathy; care and love; laws and right/wrong. Not once do they talk about how she feels. Not once is her opinion considered, instead dismissed with condecension. 'Aw, she doesn't know what she's saying - she's delirious'. Of course at times she's friggin delirious - with pain. But in a part of her mind, she knows exactly how things are. And she doesn't want to endure it anymore. This woman, who is slowly dying under the most extreme and intense pain as her insides are eaten away becomes something over whom the politicians quabble. The lawlords cite reasons why they can't allow it; they prolong her agony while they eat lunch at fancy restaurants. They debate it over chardonnay like it's a school competition, each trying to outdo the other with their knowledge (alleged) of morality and ethics. Meanwhile, the woman suffers on, dying to die.
Her family moan and bleat - 'what about me, she's my mother/sister/daughter. What am I going to do? I'll be heartbroken. How can I live without her. It's too hard'. And on and on they whine about me, me, me. While their relative suffers in agony and begs and pleads again and again to be put out of her misery.
You selfish...#@*>*#@, the lot of ye. When? Tell me when this became about you. Are you seriously suggesting that you perpetuate someone's private hell, just because you'll feel...mournful or sad? That they should endure the most extreme suffering just so you can avoid having to make a decision that might leave you upset?
I'm having difficulty putting this into words. I can hardly believe it. These...these...invertabrates, that are so weak, and so selfish, that they'd rather see someone suffer than release them, just to cater for their own self-indulgent feelings make me SICK!! I'm almost speechless. Gonna have to stop now.
I can only hope and pray to whomever's listening, that if ever I'm in that insufferable position, someone who loves me, really loves me, and doesn't just throw the word about like a teenage popstar, will stand up and be counted.
Me? I'm more than willing to do time over it. If someone I love is in such desperate pain and suffering and, with a clear mind (I'll know, believe me, I'll know) asks for release, then as God Almighty is my judge, I'll not let them down.
There are worse things than death!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Joey Johns
I'd like to discuss Andrew (Joey) Johns and his outburst during a recent Rugby League match (and that's League, not football. League, Union, Aussie rules, Gridiron, Lord help me! and football - so called because the feet are the primary method of moving the ball. It's not hard. Not complicated. Football. No such thing as bloody 'soccer'. Soccer - what the hell does that mean? Tch!). But that's a whole other post; stay tuned for that!
For my international visitors, let me briefly explain who he his. In a word - the Messiah of international League, virtually, if the adoration of the Australian League supporters is anything to go by. For me, he seems like a rather decent chap and is touted as arguably the best League player there is, period.
Okay, got that, good. I'll continue:
In a recent game of said league, he was so annoyed at a bad call made by a linesman, that he called him a - and I quote - effin' cee. Remember, this is a verbatim report - these are his words, not mine. I'm merely a non-partisan reporter and this is an analysis of events - in no way for shock value. If you can't or don't want to accept this then...go away and play with your dollies, frankly, and let the adults talk. In the name of accuracy, the offending words (and entire reason for this post, and Johns tribunal) have been recorded.
Opinion on the matter has been wide and varied; one side maintains that, as a public figure, with the associated influence he has on young people, he should be more aware of what he says. The other side, argues that the punishment (4 match ban) is way to extreme and that he's being singled out because he's a high profile player.
Let me just say this; If you as a parent can't teach (yeah, teach. Stop making it everyone elses job) your child the difference between appropriate and inappropriate language at any given time, then you've failed. As my dear old mother used to say - 'if he stuck his hand in the fire, would you do it too?' And it's a fair point. When I was a youngster, football stars swore all the time, actually, they spat a lot too. That's illegal now isn't it? - didn't make me want to copy them. Sure, I wanted to be like them as far as their skills were concerned, but I knew and was taught by my parents that the cursing wasn't to what I should aspire.
Another thing; this is top competition rugby. In which tempers get frayed, players get hurt and things get said. They are tough men, slamming their bodies into one another in a desperate attempt to be victorious. Words uttered in 'the heat of battle' mean nothing, and how many times have we seen brawls involving 4,5,6 or more players? It's a way of venting to a certain degree and widely accepted by all involved, officials included. This isn't lawn bowls or table tennis; these games are promoted as titanic struggles between two powerhouse teams and as such, moments of...questionable language should be expected. Moreover, the language wasn't even actually heard - it was lip-read. Talk about a storm in a teacup!
Bottom line, it was only two swearwords. SETTLE DOWN PEOPLE, IT'S ONLY A WORD.
If I was he, and held in such high esteem, and after 13 years at the top of his game I'd tell then to stop being so ridiculous and get stuffed. He's close to retirement anyway.
This is the bloody namby-pamby's again. Ooh! We've got to protect our kids from such bad influence. If your kid is so easily led that he or she will imitate everything they see, then that's your fault - no-one elses. Kids have influences from all quarters; a parents job is to filter them and steer the kid the right direction. Not kick up so much fuss that the offender gets charged. What do you suggest - that we eradicate all cursing. 'S not gonna happen, I tell ye. Cursewords are as much a part of the language as anythin else. Get over it, teach your kids that sometimes people swear and STOP YOUR BLOODY WHINING!
These games are so intense with the players so determined to succeed that when a bad call unfairly halts your efforts in their tracks, the frustration is almost palpaple. The people most complaining about this don't understand the pressure at times in top-class, physical sport. When, as a player, you're giving it all to cross that line (think any sports drink ad), a call (right or wrong) can push you over the edge. A bit of foul language is to be expected. Has anyone even asked the linesmans opinion on the matter. I'll wager he couldn't care less.
Anyway, it's all nonsense. Everyone take a step back and wind your necks in! Oh, update; turns out, I've just seen on TV, his charge was downgraded. Two weeks instead of four. Whoopy-bloody-doo! The pro-Joey crowd must've made much noise.
He still got reprimanded though. Naughty Joey; bad Joey; go stand in the corner until you learn the error of your ways. Heh-heh
For my international visitors, let me briefly explain who he his. In a word - the Messiah of international League, virtually, if the adoration of the Australian League supporters is anything to go by. For me, he seems like a rather decent chap and is touted as arguably the best League player there is, period.
Okay, got that, good. I'll continue:
In a recent game of said league, he was so annoyed at a bad call made by a linesman, that he called him a - and I quote - effin' cee. Remember, this is a verbatim report - these are his words, not mine. I'm merely a non-partisan reporter and this is an analysis of events - in no way for shock value. If you can't or don't want to accept this then...go away and play with your dollies, frankly, and let the adults talk. In the name of accuracy, the offending words (and entire reason for this post, and Johns tribunal) have been recorded.
Opinion on the matter has been wide and varied; one side maintains that, as a public figure, with the associated influence he has on young people, he should be more aware of what he says. The other side, argues that the punishment (4 match ban) is way to extreme and that he's being singled out because he's a high profile player.
Let me just say this; If you as a parent can't teach (yeah, teach. Stop making it everyone elses job) your child the difference between appropriate and inappropriate language at any given time, then you've failed. As my dear old mother used to say - 'if he stuck his hand in the fire, would you do it too?' And it's a fair point. When I was a youngster, football stars swore all the time, actually, they spat a lot too. That's illegal now isn't it? - didn't make me want to copy them. Sure, I wanted to be like them as far as their skills were concerned, but I knew and was taught by my parents that the cursing wasn't to what I should aspire.
Another thing; this is top competition rugby. In which tempers get frayed, players get hurt and things get said. They are tough men, slamming their bodies into one another in a desperate attempt to be victorious. Words uttered in 'the heat of battle' mean nothing, and how many times have we seen brawls involving 4,5,6 or more players? It's a way of venting to a certain degree and widely accepted by all involved, officials included. This isn't lawn bowls or table tennis; these games are promoted as titanic struggles between two powerhouse teams and as such, moments of...questionable language should be expected. Moreover, the language wasn't even actually heard - it was lip-read. Talk about a storm in a teacup!
Bottom line, it was only two swearwords. SETTLE DOWN PEOPLE, IT'S ONLY A WORD.
If I was he, and held in such high esteem, and after 13 years at the top of his game I'd tell then to stop being so ridiculous and get stuffed. He's close to retirement anyway.
This is the bloody namby-pamby's again. Ooh! We've got to protect our kids from such bad influence. If your kid is so easily led that he or she will imitate everything they see, then that's your fault - no-one elses. Kids have influences from all quarters; a parents job is to filter them and steer the kid the right direction. Not kick up so much fuss that the offender gets charged. What do you suggest - that we eradicate all cursing. 'S not gonna happen, I tell ye. Cursewords are as much a part of the language as anythin else. Get over it, teach your kids that sometimes people swear and STOP YOUR BLOODY WHINING!
These games are so intense with the players so determined to succeed that when a bad call unfairly halts your efforts in their tracks, the frustration is almost palpaple. The people most complaining about this don't understand the pressure at times in top-class, physical sport. When, as a player, you're giving it all to cross that line (think any sports drink ad), a call (right or wrong) can push you over the edge. A bit of foul language is to be expected. Has anyone even asked the linesmans opinion on the matter. I'll wager he couldn't care less.
Anyway, it's all nonsense. Everyone take a step back and wind your necks in! Oh, update; turns out, I've just seen on TV, his charge was downgraded. Two weeks instead of four. Whoopy-bloody-doo! The pro-Joey crowd must've made much noise.
He still got reprimanded though. Naughty Joey; bad Joey; go stand in the corner until you learn the error of your ways. Heh-heh
The Big Stick
I would like, at this point in the blog's life, to introduce - parpety-parpety-parp (those are trumpets, btw), THE BIG STICK .
The Big Stick is my own personal arbiter of justice (as I like to call it). Father of medium-sized stick and grandfather to the little stick. Which, t'be honest, isn't actually a stick - more of a whip - with chains - and furry handcuffs, and I particularly like using this stick when -(censored; getting a bit off the point, aren't we? Ed.)
Ahem! Where was I? Oh right, the Big Stick. Well, as I was saying - Big Stick, arbiter, justice - y'get the message.
I hope you get to know and love the Big Stick as I do. Embrace the Big Stick. The Big Stick's our friend. Only the Big Stick can set you free!! (you finished? Ed.)
The Big Stick is my own personal arbiter of justice (as I like to call it). Father of medium-sized stick and grandfather to the little stick. Which, t'be honest, isn't actually a stick - more of a whip - with chains - and furry handcuffs, and I particularly like using this stick when -(censored; getting a bit off the point, aren't we? Ed.)
Ahem! Where was I? Oh right, the Big Stick. Well, as I was saying - Big Stick, arbiter, justice - y'get the message.
I hope you get to know and love the Big Stick as I do. Embrace the Big Stick. The Big Stick's our friend. Only the Big Stick can set you free!! (you finished? Ed.)
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Spare the rod; spoil the child
As the title suggests, this entry concerns the discipline of children, and I know it's not just me who feels stunned at the way kids nowadays seem to get away with almost murder.
If I can start with a line that, as a small child, used to pull me into line. 'Do y'wanna feel the back 'o' my hand?' This line, when voiced, was a warning for me to stop whatever it was I was doing. Whether it was actually carrying on like a wee hooligan or just being cheeky or disrespectful, those words pulled me up quick smart. And if they didn't, the firm crack to the side of my head certainly did.
According to the PC and bleeding hearts, this must inevitably turn me into a violent boy. It didn't. What it did do, was to teach me to respect my elders - a respect almost unheard of in this day and age.
What the snivelling rights campaigners fail to understand is that before the age of understanding, the threat of a whallop is often the only thing stopping a child from doing something stupid. Something that may cause the child harm. Many times when young the only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that said crack would follow.
I didn't understand why; just knew that it would come.
We're not talking about ritual abuse here, Of course that's inappropriate. No, we're talking about a parent's love for their child. And the experience to know when it's required. A smack or slap to the rear end is completely harmless and it no more leads to a violent child than slapping a dog with a rolled-up newspaper turns it into a vicious animal.
I'm reminded of a time when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I was in the local high street with my parents when I saw something in a shop that I decide I wanted. Remember I'm only 4 or 5 so it was probably something shiny and sparkly. In the typical way of a whiney 5 year old, I pointed at it and proclaimed my desire. My mother said no. I said I wanted it; she said no. And on it went, So I did what any brat would do in the same circumstance and sat on the pavement and wailed my head off.
Now, the aforementioned snivel right crowd would advise the parent to 'speak firmly and calmly' to me, explaining in detail why I couldn't have the object. I'm 5 years old - it means nothing to me when told I don't need the item - all I know is I want it, and if throwing a tantrum means I'll get it, then that's exactly what I'm gonna do. Big mistake - huge! So I'm going off my head in the middle of the street with people watching the show. How embarrassing must that have been for my poor mother. So what did she do? At the end of her tether with my antics she lifted me off the ground by one arm and beat the shit out of my arse. If I thought I was wailing before, that was nothing to how I now did so.
I learnt a very valuable lesson that day; one that I've carried with me throughout my life. That is that sometimes one just can't have what one wants and kicking and screaming isn't gonna help.
And apparently, according to the bleeding hearts, I now am a violent man because all I learned from the experience was that violence gets you what you want. Well, I've never started a fight in my entire life; nor do I beat children.
There's a direct correlation between the decrease in physical punishment and the increase of disrespect from the young. I bloody hate the young now - especially teenagers, with their white baseball caps (the wearing of which, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the wearer's an arsehole)and their short haircuts and their 'tracky daks'. If you ask me, they all need a good hiding to beat some sense into them. Wee shits!
If I can start with a line that, as a small child, used to pull me into line. 'Do y'wanna feel the back 'o' my hand?' This line, when voiced, was a warning for me to stop whatever it was I was doing. Whether it was actually carrying on like a wee hooligan or just being cheeky or disrespectful, those words pulled me up quick smart. And if they didn't, the firm crack to the side of my head certainly did.
According to the PC and bleeding hearts, this must inevitably turn me into a violent boy. It didn't. What it did do, was to teach me to respect my elders - a respect almost unheard of in this day and age.
What the snivelling rights campaigners fail to understand is that before the age of understanding, the threat of a whallop is often the only thing stopping a child from doing something stupid. Something that may cause the child harm. Many times when young the only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that said crack would follow.
I didn't understand why; just knew that it would come.
We're not talking about ritual abuse here, Of course that's inappropriate. No, we're talking about a parent's love for their child. And the experience to know when it's required. A smack or slap to the rear end is completely harmless and it no more leads to a violent child than slapping a dog with a rolled-up newspaper turns it into a vicious animal.
I'm reminded of a time when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I was in the local high street with my parents when I saw something in a shop that I decide I wanted. Remember I'm only 4 or 5 so it was probably something shiny and sparkly. In the typical way of a whiney 5 year old, I pointed at it and proclaimed my desire. My mother said no. I said I wanted it; she said no. And on it went, So I did what any brat would do in the same circumstance and sat on the pavement and wailed my head off.
Now, the aforementioned snivel right crowd would advise the parent to 'speak firmly and calmly' to me, explaining in detail why I couldn't have the object. I'm 5 years old - it means nothing to me when told I don't need the item - all I know is I want it, and if throwing a tantrum means I'll get it, then that's exactly what I'm gonna do. Big mistake - huge! So I'm going off my head in the middle of the street with people watching the show. How embarrassing must that have been for my poor mother. So what did she do? At the end of her tether with my antics she lifted me off the ground by one arm and beat the shit out of my arse. If I thought I was wailing before, that was nothing to how I now did so.
I learnt a very valuable lesson that day; one that I've carried with me throughout my life. That is that sometimes one just can't have what one wants and kicking and screaming isn't gonna help.
And apparently, according to the bleeding hearts, I now am a violent man because all I learned from the experience was that violence gets you what you want. Well, I've never started a fight in my entire life; nor do I beat children.
There's a direct correlation between the decrease in physical punishment and the increase of disrespect from the young. I bloody hate the young now - especially teenagers, with their white baseball caps (the wearing of which, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the wearer's an arsehole)and their short haircuts and their 'tracky daks'. If you ask me, they all need a good hiding to beat some sense into them. Wee shits!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Spitting
Here's another snippet I've just come across. Fairfield council have now erected signs warning people if they're caught spitting on the street, they will face a fine.
Council enforcement officers will now be patrolling handing out the fines to anyone seen engaging in such a practice. (How they prove ownership of a given 'lugey' could be interesting - hands and knees with a cotton bud perhaps, to be produced in a court. 'This is the offending spit, your Honour, and it belongs to this man).
Is it such an enormous problem? I suppose if every single person on the street, ever, was to start spitting all over the place, it might be. But are they? Might this not just be (despite the councils protestations to the contrary) another form of bolstering the councils commonly-known stretched coffers? In fact, in the same paper, there is a report on how the said councils are spending bucketloads of ratepayers money sending representatives to a high-class hotel in the Blue Mountains. The subject of which, hilariously, is council finances.
So if spitting is now to be outlawed, what's next - breaking wind. Will the same officers patrol areas with smell detecting devices; where they follow individuals around like dogs sniffing each others' arses? How about belching, picking noses, adjusting ones tackle overtly? The list of humans' personal foiblles goes on and on. Hey, there's a business opportunity - rooms for hire where one can spit, pick, fart etc in private. (Don't fancy the cleaner's job much, though!
In the report, a councillor asks - what is wrong with the good old hankerchief? Well, if as many as is claimed to justify such an arbitrary law, are spitting willy-nilly, then, in this age of easily spread (and evermore immune to antibiotics) diseases, would the practice of all these people carrying infected rags in their pockets not introduce problems of its own?
A bacteria-soaked rag in a warm pocket is only going to culture more bacteria. It's where they thrive.
So what to do? Spit down a drain, I suppose, although with societies seeking a way of recycling water, that may also be a no-no. And fart downwind of any rangers.
Council enforcement officers will now be patrolling handing out the fines to anyone seen engaging in such a practice. (How they prove ownership of a given 'lugey' could be interesting - hands and knees with a cotton bud perhaps, to be produced in a court. 'This is the offending spit, your Honour, and it belongs to this man).
Is it such an enormous problem? I suppose if every single person on the street, ever, was to start spitting all over the place, it might be. But are they? Might this not just be (despite the councils protestations to the contrary) another form of bolstering the councils commonly-known stretched coffers? In fact, in the same paper, there is a report on how the said councils are spending bucketloads of ratepayers money sending representatives to a high-class hotel in the Blue Mountains. The subject of which, hilariously, is council finances.
So if spitting is now to be outlawed, what's next - breaking wind. Will the same officers patrol areas with smell detecting devices; where they follow individuals around like dogs sniffing each others' arses? How about belching, picking noses, adjusting ones tackle overtly? The list of humans' personal foiblles goes on and on. Hey, there's a business opportunity - rooms for hire where one can spit, pick, fart etc in private. (Don't fancy the cleaner's job much, though!
In the report, a councillor asks - what is wrong with the good old hankerchief? Well, if as many as is claimed to justify such an arbitrary law, are spitting willy-nilly, then, in this age of easily spread (and evermore immune to antibiotics) diseases, would the practice of all these people carrying infected rags in their pockets not introduce problems of its own?
A bacteria-soaked rag in a warm pocket is only going to culture more bacteria. It's where they thrive.
So what to do? Spit down a drain, I suppose, although with societies seeking a way of recycling water, that may also be a no-no. And fart downwind of any rangers.
Obesity v's tobacco
14th August 06
Before I start, I'd like to preface this with the admission that, for those who are extremely overweight by cause of a genetic disorder or some other such cause beyond their control, I couldn't have more sympathy but for the lard-arses who spend their days lounging on the sofa stuffing cakes and buns into them, I have none.
Read on:
I read in today's newpaper that hospitals have now joined the list of those who are banning 'cakes and pies' and other such 'unhealthy' foods from their menus.
It seems that the obesity epidemic (for that's how it appears to have become) is getting out of control. It's true, that there do seem to be a lot of extraordinarily fat people around nowdays. And it raises an interesting point - which is - have we really become so lazy that we will, without protest, allow ourselves to 'balloon' to (in many cases) twice our original size?
The ease with which fast-food can be obtained, without even having to exit our vehicle and -walk, God forbid, to order our food, is a typical example of how we no longer have to exert ourselves at all.
Actually, an amusing memory has just been sparked. Recently, while at one of the above mentioned drive-ins, I found myself waiting behind another customer while she recieved her meal. The attendant passed an enormous tray of burgers and fries to the car's driver before handing her the (equally large amount) of drinks.
Now this woman was huge; the sort of huge that requires one to lean back and turn one's entire body to reach out and grab the item. You've seen them around, in their cars. Y'know, the ones who, when having to look over their shoulder to, confirm the road is clear to proceed, have to twist their entire body, with the vehicles suspension rocking under the strain. Their necks being so 'lard-locked', that the basic normal free movement is restricted to a great degree.
This is the sort of woman we're talking about here; and here's the funny part. After recieving enough food to feed a small family, she sent the drinks back after discovering they weren't 'diet' drinks. Sort of - 'oh, I'm sorry, could I have the non-fat drink please? There's too ,much sugar in those - have to watch my weight'.
Never mind the half-dozen burger and fries meals you're going to shove down, lady, just make sure the drinks are of the diet variety. Laugh, I very nearly choked on my smoke; which brings me nicely onto my next point - tobacco.
In the US, (home of the fattest people on Earth) obesity is now officially a bigger killer than the much maligned tobacco. So my question is this - when are we going to see the same images plastered all over tobacco packaging, in a desperate effort to reduce smoking among the general population, on burger wrappers. Pictures of clogged arteries, warnings that obesity can cause 'serious health issues'. Fair's fair, if obesity is a bigger killer, then let's see the pictures. Show people the result of living on junk food.
Imagine the uproar! Banners proclaiming 'fatties are people too', and 'don't discriminate against the overweight!'. Hundreds of obese (and there would be at least that many, believe me) choking the streets, like a herd of elephants (no offence to the tusked ones, cause they're elephants too) chanting and generally causing a nuisance the way such protestors do.
It would seem that the hassled smokers of the world have become public enemy No 1. From every direction, they are being told to quit; being treated like modern lepers, forced to smoke away from society like some disease carriers. As they say in the good ole US of A, enough already, or at the very least, level the field.
Before I start, I'd like to preface this with the admission that, for those who are extremely overweight by cause of a genetic disorder or some other such cause beyond their control, I couldn't have more sympathy but for the lard-arses who spend their days lounging on the sofa stuffing cakes and buns into them, I have none.
Read on:
I read in today's newpaper that hospitals have now joined the list of those who are banning 'cakes and pies' and other such 'unhealthy' foods from their menus.
It seems that the obesity epidemic (for that's how it appears to have become) is getting out of control. It's true, that there do seem to be a lot of extraordinarily fat people around nowdays. And it raises an interesting point - which is - have we really become so lazy that we will, without protest, allow ourselves to 'balloon' to (in many cases) twice our original size?
The ease with which fast-food can be obtained, without even having to exit our vehicle and -walk, God forbid, to order our food, is a typical example of how we no longer have to exert ourselves at all.
Actually, an amusing memory has just been sparked. Recently, while at one of the above mentioned drive-ins, I found myself waiting behind another customer while she recieved her meal. The attendant passed an enormous tray of burgers and fries to the car's driver before handing her the (equally large amount) of drinks.
Now this woman was huge; the sort of huge that requires one to lean back and turn one's entire body to reach out and grab the item. You've seen them around, in their cars. Y'know, the ones who, when having to look over their shoulder to, confirm the road is clear to proceed, have to twist their entire body, with the vehicles suspension rocking under the strain. Their necks being so 'lard-locked', that the basic normal free movement is restricted to a great degree.
This is the sort of woman we're talking about here; and here's the funny part. After recieving enough food to feed a small family, she sent the drinks back after discovering they weren't 'diet' drinks. Sort of - 'oh, I'm sorry, could I have the non-fat drink please? There's too ,much sugar in those - have to watch my weight'.
Never mind the half-dozen burger and fries meals you're going to shove down, lady, just make sure the drinks are of the diet variety. Laugh, I very nearly choked on my smoke; which brings me nicely onto my next point - tobacco.
In the US, (home of the fattest people on Earth) obesity is now officially a bigger killer than the much maligned tobacco. So my question is this - when are we going to see the same images plastered all over tobacco packaging, in a desperate effort to reduce smoking among the general population, on burger wrappers. Pictures of clogged arteries, warnings that obesity can cause 'serious health issues'. Fair's fair, if obesity is a bigger killer, then let's see the pictures. Show people the result of living on junk food.
Imagine the uproar! Banners proclaiming 'fatties are people too', and 'don't discriminate against the overweight!'. Hundreds of obese (and there would be at least that many, believe me) choking the streets, like a herd of elephants (no offence to the tusked ones, cause they're elephants too
It would seem that the hassled smokers of the world have become public enemy No 1. From every direction, they are being told to quit; being treated like modern lepers, forced to smoke away from society like some disease carriers. As they say in the good ole US of A, enough already, or at the very least, level the field.
future air travel
13th August 06 01:42
Reminissant of PinkFloyd's masterpiece, The Wall, in which the school children, dressed identically in school uniforms, are transported to - a meat-mincer, disturbingly, imagine passengers being loaded in the same way onto aircraft.
This stage, of course, is after each single piece of freight has passed through a scanner where it has been thoroughly inspected for any trace of explosive.
Where they are strapped in to seats (reminissant of the booths in Aliens, the sci-fi classic) for their own safety, (and not at all in a restrained way). Fed intraveneously, the 'freight's' vital signs are monitored and provided for in the form of nutrient 'soup'.
For added security, the aircraft pilot will in fact be a computer, with the craft itself being a drone; the same technology used in warfare exploited.
An appropriate space of time before the aircraft with cargo lands at the fully automated air 'facility', the soup, previously used to ensure constant levels, will adjust the settings to animate the still form. the aircraft will pair to another, similar conveyor and the cargo, like their belongings (having a long time ago, been banned from carry on) is unloaded from the craft. Previously confirmed information, and by which the cargo must stand, unpon threat of heavy fines and incarceration, sees the individual pieces of freight are transferred to an underground train, where they are then deposited in a distribution centre where their form of transport is waiting.
Safe as houses. Until a terrorist of any given belief, discovers a way to insert a virus; in which case untold numbers of frieght will die. Though they'll all be blissfully ignorant of the imminent .
Reminissant of PinkFloyd's masterpiece, The Wall, in which the school children, dressed identically in school uniforms, are transported to - a meat-mincer, disturbingly, imagine passengers being loaded in the same way onto aircraft.
This stage, of course, is after each single piece of freight has passed through a scanner where it has been thoroughly inspected for any trace of explosive.
Where they are strapped in to seats (reminissant of the booths in Aliens, the sci-fi classic) for their own safety, (and not at all in a restrained way). Fed intraveneously, the 'freight's' vital signs are monitored and provided for in the form of nutrient 'soup'.
For added security, the aircraft pilot will in fact be a computer, with the craft itself being a drone; the same technology used in warfare exploited.
An appropriate space of time before the aircraft with cargo lands at the fully automated air 'facility', the soup, previously used to ensure constant levels, will adjust the settings to animate the still form. the aircraft will pair to another, similar conveyor and the cargo, like their belongings (having a long time ago, been banned from carry on) is unloaded from the craft. Previously confirmed information, and by which the cargo must stand, unpon threat of heavy fines and incarceration, sees the individual pieces of freight are transferred to an underground train, where they are then deposited in a distribution centre where their form of transport is waiting.
Safe as houses. Until a terrorist of any given belief, discovers a way to insert a virus; in which case untold numbers of frieght will die. Though they'll all be blissfully ignorant of the imminent .
Dogs and kids II
13 August bright warm, cool after sunset
So! Another child - another dog, and another one chalked up for 'man versus dog'. A nine year old boy and a staffy/labrador cross. (one chalked up for the staffy/labrador). Fair's fair! and for this to be a true and accurate account, all views must be considered therefore completely impartial, in the name of research.
Isn't it obvious to everyone, that the persons most innocent in this tradgedy are the ones most affected. I was of a mind that below 4 years of age was of an age beyond understanding. With that most wonderful of retrospective, that may be, in fact, too low. The reported facts, having heard the last 4 or 5 radio broadcasts are even more scarse this time. But, essentially, the animal was freely running around the surrounding area and intercepted the boy in a public (presumably) park (also freely running around; remember, impartially, name of research).
What happened next was reported as 'mauled', with a reference to 'ripped his face off'. These are the facts as reported on a popular radio station.
So we either have - a/ an agressive medium to large dog biting and attacking anyone (actually, this may be the first time THIS animal HAS actually bitten), or a normal dog, agitated by the boy to the point of snapping. This does from one angle appear to be unlikely - that the 9 year old would be foolish enough to do such a thing. Nine year olds generally have been taught (and learned themselves through near misses) by that age not to approach a stray animal. This writer was told that very thing some thirty years ago.
If this is the case, then the owner of the animal is ultimately responsible. Dog isn't; child isn't. The child at nine, seems to be likely to frequent a park and thus the possibility of a potential victim should an animal attack. Therefore the owner should never have allowed the opportunity to arise. The 'staffy' in the animal carries obvious suggestions as a breed prone to attack, however, just as smoking tobacco may kill you, but cannot be guaranteed, nor can the espousement 'all staffies are prone to attack' be justified beyond doubt.
But nevertheless, a young boy was mauled and the opinion that it must never happen again has understandable voice. Unfortunately, until the reason for this is addressed instead of the result, such an opinion will never be realised.
So! Another child - another dog, and another one chalked up for 'man versus dog'. A nine year old boy and a staffy/labrador cross. (one chalked up for the staffy/labrador). Fair's fair! and for this to be a true and accurate account, all views must be considered therefore completely impartial, in the name of research.
Isn't it obvious to everyone, that the persons most innocent in this tradgedy are the ones most affected. I was of a mind that below 4 years of age was of an age beyond understanding. With that most wonderful of retrospective, that may be, in fact, too low. The reported facts, having heard the last 4 or 5 radio broadcasts are even more scarse this time. But, essentially, the animal was freely running around the surrounding area and intercepted the boy in a public (presumably) park (also freely running around; remember, impartially, name of research).
What happened next was reported as 'mauled', with a reference to 'ripped his face off'. These are the facts as reported on a popular radio station.
So we either have - a/ an agressive medium to large dog biting and attacking anyone (actually, this may be the first time THIS animal HAS actually bitten), or a normal dog, agitated by the boy to the point of snapping. This does from one angle appear to be unlikely - that the 9 year old would be foolish enough to do such a thing. Nine year olds generally have been taught (and learned themselves through near misses) by that age not to approach a stray animal. This writer was told that very thing some thirty years ago.
If this is the case, then the owner of the animal is ultimately responsible. Dog isn't; child isn't. The child at nine, seems to be likely to frequent a park and thus the possibility of a potential victim should an animal attack. Therefore the owner should never have allowed the opportunity to arise. The 'staffy' in the animal carries obvious suggestions as a breed prone to attack, however, just as smoking tobacco may kill you, but cannot be guaranteed, nor can the espousement 'all staffies are prone to attack' be justified beyond doubt.
But nevertheless, a young boy was mauled and the opinion that it must never happen again has understandable voice. Unfortunately, until the reason for this is addressed instead of the result, such an opinion will never be realised.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
are we witnessing the demise of humour?
A few months ago, cartoons appeared depicting Mohammed in a less than distinguished light. The result has been extreme, to say the least. Radio Station CEO’s everywhere must have been rubbing their hands with glee with the interest and resultant stirrings; being inundated with calls on the subject as they were.
Financial benefits aside, there is a more frightening side to this. That is—the further breakdown in relations between the
People had been ringing radio stations all day,(and for several after) claiming outrage at such an offensive drawing. The drawing— can’t call it a cartoon (ever mindful of the politically correct Nazis, oops, racist)— concerning the virgins, if you’ve seen it, you’ll understand, is very amusing although quite irreverent. If you haven’t, the punchline humorously claims that paradise is ‘running out of virgins’. Islam went apeshit over it. Me? I thought it was quite funny.
All kinds of threats were forthcoming as a result. The entire Islamic world erupted in uproar and condemnation of this most offensive and appalling insult towards their beliefs. Far out mate – get a sense of humour, why don’t you. Of course, this author is Irish and thus has been the butt of jokes for years (Paddy the Irish/English/Scottish man).
Never mind the thought police; have the humour police struck? Stop that, that’s funny. I challenge anyone to apply that phrase from the uniform clad Graham Chapman, in the famous Monty Python sketch, where he’s pompously denying the previous, usually quite ridiculous play, and not find that hilarious. The scene I remember was the horde of old ladies terrorizing Joe Public. Classic Python. Maybe old women the world over should revolt at this portrayal. Puh-leeze!
Will we soon be facing the compulsory removal of one’s funny bone? (At the owner’s expense no doubt, I would offer). Will it become an offence, to be seen laughing in public? Will there be signs similar to those for littering, placed on telegraph poles throughout the land? Neighbour pitted against neighbour—if you see, or suspect, someone of laughing, alert the authorities. We’ll then punish them for their most heinous crime.
Will we then have the ‘urban humorist’, fighting against the injustice, spraypainting ‘Knock-Knock’ and ‘Why did the Muslim cross the road’ jokes on any available piece of canvas. (I know it’s ‘chicken’ but in the name of the discrimination of comedy the humourist will change the subject) Where comedy is forced onto the black market? At market stalls everywhere, DVD’s of comedy are sold – in brown paper bags like the porn mags received through the post (not that this particular author has ever taken part in such depravity – simple research, honest).
An army of ‘Graham Chapmans’ with straight, dour faces called to shut the stall down when someone with the aforementioned removed funnybone gets wind of it. In darkened basements, those who have rebelled against the removal of their funny bone gather to giggle in secret, mindful not to laugh out loud in case they’re heard. Brave men who stand on street corners, telling jokes to the deaf. Running for their lives at the appearance of the law.
Gangs of joke wielding comedians roaming the streets, picking on the slow and defenceless. Hijacking P.A. systems, putting their propaganda over the air. Over the decades, after years of suppression, comedians will finally be allowed to (cos’ comedians are people too, after all) have an area where they can ‘comede’, if you like, at will.
We all laugh at something or someone, whether they be falling over, or making a mockery of themselves for a TV show. Think Laurel and Hardy, Monty Python, The Young Ones etc. The list here is enormous, but you get my general idea.
Without humour, the world’s a sad and depressing place and this author for one is going to keep embracing irreverence in the name of a laugh. Political correctness be damned!
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So sunshine is actually good for you now?
So sunshine actually is good for you now? Only what parents in the seventies have been telling us for years – in moderation obviously. Because, believe it or believe it not, this author has actually got sunstroke before – twice. What’s more surprising is that it occurred both times in
It seems that everything at one time or another over the last few years has been bad, then good, then back to bad, for you, again. In this case we’re enjoying a ‘good’ cycle.
Ok you collective Einsteins, tell me what to do. Do I go out in the sun – or not? Do I drink milk – or not? Are strong bones and the lessened chance of a nervous disease more important than skin cancer?
Or, how about letting me take my own responsibility for my future?
Where, oh where do I get a job like that? Make a claim based on supposed new findings, wait for a few years and with the appropriate surprise counter with – ‘Hang on, it’s not bad for you after all’. Double mileage from the one topic.
So fear not all of those confused by the indecision of academia; stand fast by the original nonsense you believed, it will become valid once again.
So I smoke, I race motorcycles, I jump from aeroplanes and I don’t buy soy products, I don’t take part in any activity that involves spandex and I don’t ‘watch what I eat’. (Though that depends on what I’m eating. hum).
So obviously, according to the so-called experts, I’m at deaths door. Although I may as well be, being that I’m one of the modern lepers, due to my apparently disgusting habit of…wait for it…smoking. The audience gasps in horror as they all ask – ‘don’t you know it’s bad for you?’
Except I don’t feel that way. Hmmm, maybe the experts have got it wrong again; I’ll just wait for the requisite time to pass. My lifestyle will, no doubt, be considered sanctimoniously acceptable once again.
Dogs and kids
I’m sorry, I cannot – damnit, will not! Hold my tongue any longer.
Earlier this year a young child (unsupervised, and the very crux of my argument) approached two dogs chained in their garden.
He, or she, I can’t remember, was attacked and badly mauled.
More recently, a four year old infant was mauled and tragically killed by another group of dogs in their back garden.
The concerned parties expressed outrage, laced with a healthy dose of sanctimony, the owner showed the appropriate contrition, and the animals were put down.
Now, let’s just look at the facts as I see them (and if they’re incorrect, I’ll stand corrected).
A four year old infant, what my dear old mother would refer to as ‘barely out of nappies’, ‘got out’ , much like a dog ‘getting out’, and proceeded to wander about – on her own –. She went through two gates (maybe we can jail the owner for not having them locked) and…get this – a six foot (two metres) fence, into the garden housing the group of dogs. (two – four of, at least one chained in its own back yard). The infant approached the animals and was mauled to death.
Who’s responsible? The infant? Don’t see how. She’s only four. Her young brain hasn’t developed enough to grasp that dogs don’t enjoy being ridden on, stood on, ears pulled, kicked, punched, and treated like a punchbag. She can’t know that all dogs, no matter how docile will inevitably snap with extended times of such treatment. (Adults, however, do!)
What about the owner of the devils spawn – sorry, dogs. He had his animals sequestered in his back garden behind two gates and a six foot fence with one dog chained up. What more could one reasonably expect him to do?
The dogs as I’ve already explained, where just being driven by the greater force of nature, they don’t know any better either – they’re just dogs after all.
No, I’m afraid there is only one person responsible for this saddening event (two actually) – the parents. Where…the hell… were they, while their…baby, let that sink it…baby, was wandering alone out of sight. A four year old child should never be out of their parents’ sight. At the very least not outside the homes boundary – especially knowing that next door lay the threat of this occurrence. As horror and grief-stricken the parents must be, I’m afraid that’s where the responsibility lies. You are ultimately responsible for your child – no-one else.
This happened, purely and simply because you weren’t supervising your daughter. If you had’ve been, this wouldn’t have happened, would it? How, for example, do you see it happening if you were with the child?
In the name of all that’s good and holy, don’t ever let an infant (or young child, for that matter) near a dog (especially one chained up)…period actually, but at least not unsupervised.
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