Folks, friends and very, VERY occasional viewers of my blog, I have some sad news.
The blog is going to go now.
Well, it's not that sad, because I'VE MOVED to www.thereachforge.blogspot.com!
It's sad for all of you who don't give a shit about games however, because its dedicated entirely to the trials and tribulations of me on Forge on Halo Reach.
Fear not though - you might still learn something...
Perhaps.
Monday, 18 October 2010
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Ramblings Volume 6
Ramblings Volume 6, 25th May 2010, 20:31
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On Luke Dempsey.
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This guy is amazing i love his vids to bits LOVEYOULUKE
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On Luke Dempsey.
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This guy is amazing i love his vids to bits LOVEYOULUKE
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Ramblings Volume 5
Ramblings Volume 5, 21st November 2009, 14:33
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On pets, particularly the retarded ones
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Now, before I begin this here blog post, I'd like to first of all give a big shout out to the people who helped me decide on a topic - you know who you are, and I ain't saying nobody's name on the internetz without their permission.
Anyway (which is oddly how I seem to start most second or third paragraphs - wierd that, ain't it?), where was I? Oh yeah. Pets.
Now, I like pets. I love pets. I like cats, I like dogs, I like hamsters, gerbils, mice, guinea pigs and birds. I don't like rats. But that's just me. But when people start to prick about with nature and breed wierd and wonderful pets that just aren't - that's where I draw the line.
Take for example hairless cats. Cats are supposed to have hair. They have evolved, over millions of years, to have hair. So what do us grand old humans do? Slap their DNA around until they drop all of it. Then you have one of the foulest creations on the planet - a wrinkly cat that looks like some kind of deformed beanie baby (which is probably TM). They're oddly popular, but I mean... Seriously? Seriously? People like those?
Apologies, I'm going off topic... Which isn't unusual... But still.
No, the reason that I am writing this post is because of the new (or rather 3 month old) pet craze - micro-pigs. They're pigs... But they're small. *Cough*. I just can't get my head around why anybody would spend £700 on a small pig... You could buy a freaking 85 inch plasma screen TV for that price, and still have some left over for popcorn! But oh no, you choose to follow pop culture, and whazzam - £700 down the drain and you're stuck with a small, fat, pink, squeaky crap-machine.
Which isn't to say that I don't like pigs... It's just the whole 'keeping a farm animal as a pet' thing doesn't seem right. Now, nobody knows what the purpose of human kind is, but I'm pretty damn sure it ain't to turn every living creature we see into some kind of domesticated freak of nature. A domesticated, inbred, freak of nature.
Which rather neatly pulls the train into the station of point number 2. The end doesn't justify the means in these cases because the end is crap to start with. Wait, what? The end... is crap... to start... Off-topic, sorry.
Yes, anywho, these poor creatures are inbred as you like. How the hell else would you get something so freakishly and terrifyingly wrong? You can say that they take 'thousands of unrelated pigs' but at some point it's gonna boil down to two piggy siblings who are going to be forced to mate by some sick fuck up in an observation room somewhere. Now, I don't support PETA, mainly because they're borderline frigging mental, but I don't support the harsh cruel treatment of innocent animals to get David Beckham a new fashion accessory.
And that brings me to point number 3, my probably final point unless this writer's block clears. Pets are not fashion accessories. You've heard the slogan 'A dog is for life not just for Christmas', right? That's true. Oh so true. Pets aren't just a biological bracelet - they're living little furballs of fun (except in the case of hairless cats, which are just living balls of something-ness) that should be treated as humans would! You wouldn't force your own children to mate in a cage, and you definitely wouldn't leave them in a box on the side of a street in the pouring rain! People need to start stopping this insanity... Or at least pay a visit to BleakHolt animal sanctuary once in a while.
Wait, why am I not working there? "The only good thing for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing", right?
Shit.
I'd better go grab my coat, because it's rainin - screw it, I can just be an internet advertiser.
That's not nothing, correct?
So remember: "A pig is for life, not just for a handbag!"
Ouch, that was a rather poor finale...
It sounded so much funnier in my head. Ah well, my blog.
=====================================================================
On pets, particularly the retarded ones
=====================================================================
Now, before I begin this here blog post, I'd like to first of all give a big shout out to the people who helped me decide on a topic - you know who you are, and I ain't saying nobody's name on the internetz without their permission.
Anyway (which is oddly how I seem to start most second or third paragraphs - wierd that, ain't it?), where was I? Oh yeah. Pets.
Now, I like pets. I love pets. I like cats, I like dogs, I like hamsters, gerbils, mice, guinea pigs and birds. I don't like rats. But that's just me. But when people start to prick about with nature and breed wierd and wonderful pets that just aren't - that's where I draw the line.
Take for example hairless cats. Cats are supposed to have hair. They have evolved, over millions of years, to have hair. So what do us grand old humans do? Slap their DNA around until they drop all of it. Then you have one of the foulest creations on the planet - a wrinkly cat that looks like some kind of deformed beanie baby (which is probably TM). They're oddly popular, but I mean... Seriously? Seriously? People like those?
Apologies, I'm going off topic... Which isn't unusual... But still.
No, the reason that I am writing this post is because of the new (or rather 3 month old) pet craze - micro-pigs. They're pigs... But they're small. *Cough*. I just can't get my head around why anybody would spend £700 on a small pig... You could buy a freaking 85 inch plasma screen TV for that price, and still have some left over for popcorn! But oh no, you choose to follow pop culture, and whazzam - £700 down the drain and you're stuck with a small, fat, pink, squeaky crap-machine.
Which isn't to say that I don't like pigs... It's just the whole 'keeping a farm animal as a pet' thing doesn't seem right. Now, nobody knows what the purpose of human kind is, but I'm pretty damn sure it ain't to turn every living creature we see into some kind of domesticated freak of nature. A domesticated, inbred, freak of nature.
Which rather neatly pulls the train into the station of point number 2. The end doesn't justify the means in these cases because the end is crap to start with. Wait, what? The end... is crap... to start... Off-topic, sorry.
Yes, anywho, these poor creatures are inbred as you like. How the hell else would you get something so freakishly and terrifyingly wrong? You can say that they take 'thousands of unrelated pigs' but at some point it's gonna boil down to two piggy siblings who are going to be forced to mate by some sick fuck up in an observation room somewhere. Now, I don't support PETA, mainly because they're borderline frigging mental, but I don't support the harsh cruel treatment of innocent animals to get David Beckham a new fashion accessory.
And that brings me to point number 3, my probably final point unless this writer's block clears. Pets are not fashion accessories. You've heard the slogan 'A dog is for life not just for Christmas', right? That's true. Oh so true. Pets aren't just a biological bracelet - they're living little furballs of fun (except in the case of hairless cats, which are just living balls of something-ness) that should be treated as humans would! You wouldn't force your own children to mate in a cage, and you definitely wouldn't leave them in a box on the side of a street in the pouring rain! People need to start stopping this insanity... Or at least pay a visit to BleakHolt animal sanctuary once in a while.
Wait, why am I not working there? "The only good thing for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing", right?
Shit.
I'd better go grab my coat, because it's rainin - screw it, I can just be an internet advertiser.
That's not nothing, correct?
So remember: "A pig is for life, not just for a handbag!"
Ouch, that was a rather poor finale...
It sounded so much funnier in my head. Ah well, my blog.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Ramblings Volume 4
Ramblings Volume 4, 16th November 2009, 17:53
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On idiots - and just that
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Wow, it's been a whole 10 days since my last post here. I bet you missed me, huh?
Nah, who am I kidding. You didn't. I suppose I should explain my absence, at any rate.
But I won't, for fear of boring you.
At any rate, this week-ish's rambling is about idiots, and was inspired once again by a news story I heard on that certain copyright-armored radio channel. It was about a group of youths - two boys aged 13 and 14 and one 14-year old girl (I think, my memory is a bit foggy) - who stripped a 14 year old girl before savagely beating her with a stilleto.
I mean, pardon my German, but what the FUCK.
That's just a prime example of how retarded some people are. We're the lucky ones (referring of course to the 'at-least-partially-sensible' people who go to my school), we probably won't ever stoop to this level, but it just shocks me how screwed up in the head some people are. To assault somebody in the street is one thing, to strip them is another, to beat them with a stilleto is another but to film it on a mobile God-damn phone? What on earth possessed them!?
I don't want to dwell too much on that particular case for long, but let me just say that their 4 year detention sentence is an insult, and that justice is absolutely idiotic today.
Anyway, on lighter news, time for the rest of my post.
So, idiots. There are good idiots, and there are bad idiots. There's a foggy grey kind of idiot, but I don't want to get bogged down with boggy greys, I'd much rather keep focussed on the nice pleasant blacks and whites which require about as much thinking as blinking does.
So, the bad idiots, these prats who deliberately go out of their way to cause people harm because it makes them look "well 'ard" or "sicky" to their mates. They are the reason that we lock our doors, they are the reason that small children are scared of the dark, they are the very reason that Liverpool is no longer a safe place to inhabit. The bad idiots, much like the people in the case above, are not pleasant. They are not good people, and they are, to most mentally stable people, socially unbearable. They are the kind that are only bearable by their own - one good assault deserves another, as I like to put it.
They are the dishonorable scum that ruin a life a day, they are the ass-hats that are crushing modern society and spreading prejudice at an alarming rate. It's the bad idiots that made me afraid to enjoy art. I was once an idiot, as I let the other idiots drag me down. I listened to them, and I didn't go to museums or art galleries for fear of being rejected by them - but then I realised - they don't matter.
And that's what we all have to realise. Violent idiots don't matter in any way whatsoever. They're just bad idiots. Bad eggs. Call them what you will, they're the ones you don't need to listen to, the ones that would sooner sell you for a tenner than assure your friendship or help you in a time of need. Don't let yourself fall in with the bad idiots, and I beg of you, don't become one.
But then, there's always a flipside.
There are the good idiots. I'm sure you've all heard the saying 'Ignorance is bliss', (I say all because my fanbase consists of around 2 people, both of whom are assuredly knowledgeable) and the good idiots are the happy ones. They're the lovable buffoons, the ones who really just don't get it, but accept that fact and have a laugh about it anyway. They're the ones who can't spot the forest for the trees or could probably get lost on the back of their hands, but who everybody loves because they don't go around beating the crap out of people with stilettos. I like bold font. Sorry, erm... Where was I?
Ah, yes.
Good idiots are not idiots in the conventional sense, they're just not very bright. I suppose it's actually a bit mean to condemn them.
Oh hell no... I'm slowly becoming a bad idiot...
But at least it keeps my blogs interesting.
I'm going to cut this short now, I think I see somebody minding their own business so I'm going to go and rape them with a shoe.
...
...
And yes, I'm kidding.
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On idiots - and just that
=====================================================================
Wow, it's been a whole 10 days since my last post here. I bet you missed me, huh?
Nah, who am I kidding. You didn't. I suppose I should explain my absence, at any rate.
But I won't, for fear of boring you.
At any rate, this week-ish's rambling is about idiots, and was inspired once again by a news story I heard on that certain copyright-armored radio channel. It was about a group of youths - two boys aged 13 and 14 and one 14-year old girl (I think, my memory is a bit foggy) - who stripped a 14 year old girl before savagely beating her with a stilleto.
I mean, pardon my German, but what the FUCK.
That's just a prime example of how retarded some people are. We're the lucky ones (referring of course to the 'at-least-partially-sensible' people who go to my school), we probably won't ever stoop to this level, but it just shocks me how screwed up in the head some people are. To assault somebody in the street is one thing, to strip them is another, to beat them with a stilleto is another but to film it on a mobile God-damn phone? What on earth possessed them!?
I don't want to dwell too much on that particular case for long, but let me just say that their 4 year detention sentence is an insult, and that justice is absolutely idiotic today.
Anyway, on lighter news, time for the rest of my post.
So, idiots. There are good idiots, and there are bad idiots. There's a foggy grey kind of idiot, but I don't want to get bogged down with boggy greys, I'd much rather keep focussed on the nice pleasant blacks and whites which require about as much thinking as blinking does.
So, the bad idiots, these prats who deliberately go out of their way to cause people harm because it makes them look "well 'ard" or "sicky" to their mates. They are the reason that we lock our doors, they are the reason that small children are scared of the dark, they are the very reason that Liverpool is no longer a safe place to inhabit. The bad idiots, much like the people in the case above, are not pleasant. They are not good people, and they are, to most mentally stable people, socially unbearable. They are the kind that are only bearable by their own - one good assault deserves another, as I like to put it.
They are the dishonorable scum that ruin a life a day, they are the ass-hats that are crushing modern society and spreading prejudice at an alarming rate. It's the bad idiots that made me afraid to enjoy art. I was once an idiot, as I let the other idiots drag me down. I listened to them, and I didn't go to museums or art galleries for fear of being rejected by them - but then I realised - they don't matter.
And that's what we all have to realise. Violent idiots don't matter in any way whatsoever. They're just bad idiots. Bad eggs. Call them what you will, they're the ones you don't need to listen to, the ones that would sooner sell you for a tenner than assure your friendship or help you in a time of need. Don't let yourself fall in with the bad idiots, and I beg of you, don't become one.
But then, there's always a flipside.
There are the good idiots. I'm sure you've all heard the saying 'Ignorance is bliss', (I say all because my fanbase consists of around 2 people, both of whom are assuredly knowledgeable) and the good idiots are the happy ones. They're the lovable buffoons, the ones who really just don't get it, but accept that fact and have a laugh about it anyway. They're the ones who can't spot the forest for the trees or could probably get lost on the back of their hands, but who everybody loves because they don't go around beating the crap out of people with stilettos. I like bold font. Sorry, erm... Where was I?
Ah, yes.
Good idiots are not idiots in the conventional sense, they're just not very bright. I suppose it's actually a bit mean to condemn them.
Oh hell no... I'm slowly becoming a bad idiot...
But at least it keeps my blogs interesting.
I'm going to cut this short now, I think I see somebody minding their own business so I'm going to go and rape them with a shoe.
...
...
And yes, I'm kidding.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Ramblings Volume 3
Ramblings Volume 3, 6th November 2009, 21:09
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On modern technology, particularly the Xbox, and how it's killing us off
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So, my Xbox 360 broke. It's died, moved on to the big trash heap in the sky. Or, rather, I've sent it off to Microsoft.
So basically the same thing.
Anyway, it's got the Red Ring of Death, and I'm stuck without a gaming console for a couple o' weeks. And I ain't enjoying it, I can tell you that.
It's not that it's the console itself that's gone - I love the fact that I can sit in my room now and think without hearing an incessant *whiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr* of the mighty box itself, in all it's thunderous glory, proclaiming its presence to the heavens - but the fact that I can't play my games. I know, it's sad, it's pathetic, I could go on all day about what is and isn't being a 'GameFreak', but for now let's just push that to one side.
You see, I don't particularly miss it as such, but it's rather the fact that I miss the comfort of being able to lose myself in another life. That's what's so great about computer gaming, and it's also what's so terrible, kind of like a black forest gateau with extra topping stuffed with rat poison. I miss being able to simply get away from it all and go and live in peace on Oblivion, and be able to maim some zombies on Half-Life 2. Let's rule out the fact that I have a PC for now, I'll cometo that later. It's just that for me, gaming has become an art form, and it has for many others too.
They are no longer 'Bobby Thompson' or 'Billy Jones', they have become Gordon Freeman or Master Chief - gaming doesn't just provide an opportunity to extract yourself and inject the very essence of you into another life, as soon as you find yourself enjoying a game the game actually becomes a part of you. Soon enough you find that the real world simply isn't interesting, that books aren't exciting enough because you have to think up the explosions, and the little beam of hope in our grey, dull minds that is the imagination is extinguished for good. We gradually lose the ability to respond to anything other than visual stimuli when we're playing, and our conscience doesn't seem to function properly when we're not. We can't just go back to being a normal person - we'll always be a gamer, deep down, and we'll always crave that 'one more level' that we so often beg for.
When I say we, I'm referring to gamers. Just thought I'd clear that up.
Essentially, the PC doesn't provide as much immersion as the consoles, and that's a good thing. For example, with a desktop PC, you're always going to be sat upright, and with a laptop you're always going to feel the weight of it, or have to awkwardly position yourself to see the screen properly. It's this extra barrier of protection that everybody needs, but that simply isn't there for consoles. The Xbox controller, for example, only has a relatively small 11 buttons and two joysticks (not counting the d-pad, because nobody ever uses that any more) but the keyboard? I can't be bothered counting, is the short answer, a google search is the long - but you catch my drift.
So catch this drift, Skippy.
I don't miss the Xbox at all. "Ooo, hypocricy" you say, "Ooo what a dirty liar" you say, but say what you will. I don't in effect miss the Xbox, but it's the fact that it's gone that makes me crave it even more. It's like when somebody puts up a sign saying do not step on the grass, and you feel compelled to step on it out of curiosity (or if you're just a prick); it's like when somebody tells you to tell a joke and you can't think of anything - hell, you may have John Cleese's entire repetoir crammed in the old noggin, but when put under pressure it'll fly out the window like a racing pidgeon on crack.
Man, I've really got to see that one day.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Reverse the last statement and you have me, right now. Craving something because I can't have it. Wanting to play because I know I can't. Thinking of all the games I could be playing without even once considering the life I'm living here. It's a subconscious thing, you can't avoid it.
So basically...
If you've ever so much as touched a controller and played even a fraction of a minute of any game and enjoyed it then you're stuck. Forever. You can go outside. You can play football, stave off the hunger; you can watch TV, fight back the boredom - but you know now.
You're one of us.
=====================================================================
On modern technology, particularly the Xbox, and how it's killing us off
=====================================================================
So, my Xbox 360 broke. It's died, moved on to the big trash heap in the sky. Or, rather, I've sent it off to Microsoft.
So basically the same thing.
Anyway, it's got the Red Ring of Death, and I'm stuck without a gaming console for a couple o' weeks. And I ain't enjoying it, I can tell you that.
It's not that it's the console itself that's gone - I love the fact that I can sit in my room now and think without hearing an incessant *whiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr* of the mighty box itself, in all it's thunderous glory, proclaiming its presence to the heavens - but the fact that I can't play my games. I know, it's sad, it's pathetic, I could go on all day about what is and isn't being a 'GameFreak', but for now let's just push that to one side.
You see, I don't particularly miss it as such, but it's rather the fact that I miss the comfort of being able to lose myself in another life. That's what's so great about computer gaming, and it's also what's so terrible, kind of like a black forest gateau with extra topping stuffed with rat poison. I miss being able to simply get away from it all and go and live in peace on Oblivion, and be able to maim some zombies on Half-Life 2. Let's rule out the fact that I have a PC for now, I'll cometo that later. It's just that for me, gaming has become an art form, and it has for many others too.
They are no longer 'Bobby Thompson' or 'Billy Jones', they have become Gordon Freeman or Master Chief - gaming doesn't just provide an opportunity to extract yourself and inject the very essence of you into another life, as soon as you find yourself enjoying a game the game actually becomes a part of you. Soon enough you find that the real world simply isn't interesting, that books aren't exciting enough because you have to think up the explosions, and the little beam of hope in our grey, dull minds that is the imagination is extinguished for good. We gradually lose the ability to respond to anything other than visual stimuli when we're playing, and our conscience doesn't seem to function properly when we're not. We can't just go back to being a normal person - we'll always be a gamer, deep down, and we'll always crave that 'one more level' that we so often beg for.
When I say we, I'm referring to gamers. Just thought I'd clear that up.
Essentially, the PC doesn't provide as much immersion as the consoles, and that's a good thing. For example, with a desktop PC, you're always going to be sat upright, and with a laptop you're always going to feel the weight of it, or have to awkwardly position yourself to see the screen properly. It's this extra barrier of protection that everybody needs, but that simply isn't there for consoles. The Xbox controller, for example, only has a relatively small 11 buttons and two joysticks (not counting the d-pad, because nobody ever uses that any more) but the keyboard? I can't be bothered counting, is the short answer, a google search is the long - but you catch my drift.
So catch this drift, Skippy.
I don't miss the Xbox at all. "Ooo, hypocricy" you say, "Ooo what a dirty liar" you say, but say what you will. I don't in effect miss the Xbox, but it's the fact that it's gone that makes me crave it even more. It's like when somebody puts up a sign saying do not step on the grass, and you feel compelled to step on it out of curiosity (or if you're just a prick); it's like when somebody tells you to tell a joke and you can't think of anything - hell, you may have John Cleese's entire repetoir crammed in the old noggin, but when put under pressure it'll fly out the window like a racing pidgeon on crack.
Man, I've really got to see that one day.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Reverse the last statement and you have me, right now. Craving something because I can't have it. Wanting to play because I know I can't. Thinking of all the games I could be playing without even once considering the life I'm living here. It's a subconscious thing, you can't avoid it.
So basically...
If you've ever so much as touched a controller and played even a fraction of a minute of any game and enjoyed it then you're stuck. Forever. You can go outside. You can play football, stave off the hunger; you can watch TV, fight back the boredom - but you know now.
You're one of us.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Ramblings Volume 2
Ramblings - Volume 2, 2nd November 2009, 16:14
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On naivety, and the way it's slowly destroying us
=====================================================================
Well, let's just settle the first matter at hand. I know it wasn't a week since my last post, but this was really a spur of the moment type post, inspired by a news story I heard on a certain radio station I ain't gonna risk metioning for copyright reasons. Consider it my gift to you, a special edition post!
Which actually gives birth to another problem or rather matter to address: a special edition post on my second? My second post to this blog is a special edition... Really makes you think doesn't it?
No?
Good. On to more pressing issues.
This was inspired by the story of the 'human chameleon' Paul Bint, who was jailed today for conning the hell out of some women, amongst some 350 other offences spanning a course of 30 years since his childhood. He's been dubbed King Con, and he essentially posed as a lawyer on a dating website to attract women who he then swindled.
Not much, right? Not too naive: so, he's a lawyer, big deal? Well, here's where you'd have to start getting a bit skeptical about the whole idea: he claimed to have a fleet of cars, amongst which was the car used in the James Bond film Goldeneye (20% ludicrous), he had socialised with former James Bond star Pierce Brosnan (40% ludicrous), he was good friends with Robbie Williams (60% ludicrous), he was the best lawyer in the country (80% ludicrous) and he was once married to comedy actress Sarah Alexander (*ding!* retarded!).
So that really left me thinking: how in the name of God Almighty or whatever you believe (although I must say I'm an agnostic, I think (lol religion joke)) could these women be so naive as to believe all of this? It really all starts for me with the fact that he was featured in lonely hearts ads. Now, this man, whoever he impersonated (some were told a very famous lawyer, Jonathon Rees, others think the Director of Public Prosecutions) was in a lonely hearts ad on the internet. You'd have to be a fool to click on one of these anyway, but to think that this man (and let's face it, for some people money does buy happiness, let's not kid ourselves) who could buy and sell any one of us for what he would consider a paultry sum would end up in lonely hearts advertisements. This man could have any woman he wanted, Jesus, he could buy any woman he wanted, yet he would stoop so low as to post himself on the internet?
Ooh, look at that, I'm being naive. Let's disregard that, and continue, with considerable haste.
The naivety is really possessed by the fools who wanted to date him. In olden days, it was safe to be naive - you could leave your doors unlocked at night, and open during the day (or so I'm told, my grandad might not be the most reliable of sources) - but now if you so much as leave a catflap open you'll probably end up missing the best half of your house, not to mention your skeletal integrity. Perhaps these women were living in the past, perhaps they had no concept of naivety whatsoever - but eventually, cracks start to appear.
Now, I'm not talking big cracks here, I'm talking... Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about, this is a ramble and I can't be bothered scrolling up, but... I kind of mean that eventually, people are going to start suspecting everything and anything. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, hell, it might not even be in our lifetimes, however long they may be, but at one point in the future naivety is going to be a thing of the past for EVERYONE. You're going to start being afraid of every tree you see, because they might conceal a sniper; you're going to be terrified of old lady Doris because she might have a shiv in her handbag; you're going to stop turning your lights on because they might explode and a fragment of glass might kill you - you're going to be suspicious of everything. Suspicion for me is the opposite of naivety, and don't ever say that you'll never become this kind of person, I said I'd never go on facebook - and just look at the last post!
However, as a wise man once said: "What goes up, must come down". At some point in the even further future, we're going to stop being suspicious of the bigger things like terrorism because our tea might be too hot and cause us mild discomfort. We're going to forget to lock our doors because we're too busy listening to government propaganda, force-feeding us bullshit on how celotape can kill us. The streets will be rife with crime for about a year or so, until at some point we'll realise what's happening and realise that life is far too short to worry about oversharpening your pencil, and that life isn't long enough to take so many huge risks, so it'll all come back to the norm again.
I think during that year of crime and dismay, if I'm still alive, and if (persay) I'm a doctor, I'm going to post a lonely hearts ad claiming I'm a thief who steals from their partners for fun. I wonder how many responses I'd get, but moreover - I wonder if I'd be liable for prosecution?
Wait...
Hold on a second...
Everything I've just wrote (bar the news story, that's fact) was an absolute pile of bollocks...
That's a good reason to call it a special edition post, I guess.
=====================================================================
On naivety, and the way it's slowly destroying us
=====================================================================
Well, let's just settle the first matter at hand. I know it wasn't a week since my last post, but this was really a spur of the moment type post, inspired by a news story I heard on a certain radio station I ain't gonna risk metioning for copyright reasons. Consider it my gift to you, a special edition post!
Which actually gives birth to another problem or rather matter to address: a special edition post on my second? My second post to this blog is a special edition... Really makes you think doesn't it?
No?
Good. On to more pressing issues.
This was inspired by the story of the 'human chameleon' Paul Bint, who was jailed today for conning the hell out of some women, amongst some 350 other offences spanning a course of 30 years since his childhood. He's been dubbed King Con, and he essentially posed as a lawyer on a dating website to attract women who he then swindled.
Not much, right? Not too naive: so, he's a lawyer, big deal? Well, here's where you'd have to start getting a bit skeptical about the whole idea: he claimed to have a fleet of cars, amongst which was the car used in the James Bond film Goldeneye (20% ludicrous), he had socialised with former James Bond star Pierce Brosnan (40% ludicrous), he was good friends with Robbie Williams (60% ludicrous), he was the best lawyer in the country (80% ludicrous) and he was once married to comedy actress Sarah Alexander (*ding!* retarded!).
So that really left me thinking: how in the name of God Almighty or whatever you believe (although I must say I'm an agnostic, I think (lol religion joke)) could these women be so naive as to believe all of this? It really all starts for me with the fact that he was featured in lonely hearts ads. Now, this man, whoever he impersonated (some were told a very famous lawyer, Jonathon Rees, others think the Director of Public Prosecutions) was in a lonely hearts ad on the internet. You'd have to be a fool to click on one of these anyway, but to think that this man (and let's face it, for some people money does buy happiness, let's not kid ourselves) who could buy and sell any one of us for what he would consider a paultry sum would end up in lonely hearts advertisements. This man could have any woman he wanted, Jesus, he could buy any woman he wanted, yet he would stoop so low as to post himself on the internet?
Ooh, look at that, I'm being naive. Let's disregard that, and continue, with considerable haste.
The naivety is really possessed by the fools who wanted to date him. In olden days, it was safe to be naive - you could leave your doors unlocked at night, and open during the day (or so I'm told, my grandad might not be the most reliable of sources) - but now if you so much as leave a catflap open you'll probably end up missing the best half of your house, not to mention your skeletal integrity. Perhaps these women were living in the past, perhaps they had no concept of naivety whatsoever - but eventually, cracks start to appear.
Now, I'm not talking big cracks here, I'm talking... Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about, this is a ramble and I can't be bothered scrolling up, but... I kind of mean that eventually, people are going to start suspecting everything and anything. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, hell, it might not even be in our lifetimes, however long they may be, but at one point in the future naivety is going to be a thing of the past for EVERYONE. You're going to start being afraid of every tree you see, because they might conceal a sniper; you're going to be terrified of old lady Doris because she might have a shiv in her handbag; you're going to stop turning your lights on because they might explode and a fragment of glass might kill you - you're going to be suspicious of everything. Suspicion for me is the opposite of naivety, and don't ever say that you'll never become this kind of person, I said I'd never go on facebook - and just look at the last post!
However, as a wise man once said: "What goes up, must come down". At some point in the even further future, we're going to stop being suspicious of the bigger things like terrorism because our tea might be too hot and cause us mild discomfort. We're going to forget to lock our doors because we're too busy listening to government propaganda, force-feeding us bullshit on how celotape can kill us. The streets will be rife with crime for about a year or so, until at some point we'll realise what's happening and realise that life is far too short to worry about oversharpening your pencil, and that life isn't long enough to take so many huge risks, so it'll all come back to the norm again.
I think during that year of crime and dismay, if I'm still alive, and if (persay) I'm a doctor, I'm going to post a lonely hearts ad claiming I'm a thief who steals from their partners for fun. I wonder how many responses I'd get, but moreover - I wonder if I'd be liable for prosecution?
Wait...
Hold on a second...
Everything I've just wrote (bar the news story, that's fact) was an absolute pile of bollocks...
That's a good reason to call it a special edition post, I guess.
Friday, 30 October 2009
Ramblings Volume 1
Ramblings - Volume 1 30th October 2009, 22:22
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On FaceBook, and the suspicion thereof
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Hello there. I think it's about time we met, don't you? Yes, quite. Anyway, without further ado, I will begin my first ramble of what will hopefully be many weekly additions to come.
But down to more pressing matters. I'm rambling about facebook today, and oddly enough, I'm posting the ramble on the 'Demon Site' itself. But it doesn't seem all that bad, once you get to know it. I mean, it's not like you HAVE to post you details for the entire universe to see - the truth is in fact quite the contrary - and once you have become acquainted to the familiar blues and whites of what would seem at first glance a poorly designed site, it's all very useful. It allows you to speak and communicate your feelings without the need to spend credit on a text or phone call and without the need to spend time arranging a get together with mates. However, Facebook's greatest feature would also seem to be it's Achilles Heel.
You see, upon actually looking at what social networking sites are doing to us, it becomes apparent they are depriving us of that human contact that we as social beings so desperately crave. I for one am a lost cause, there is no saving of my confidence - no, it was flushed down the lavatory a long while ago - but there are some people who are rapidly losing the 'human touch', as it were. We are simply becoming slavesto the machines, no longer a functional being but rather a series of 1s and 0s transmitted via fibre-opticsto all the rest of the world: without having to leave our bedrooms.
Hypocricy indeed, considering that at this time I myself am sitting on my chair in my room, door locked, curtains drawn, lights off, with the only sources of illumination being my Xbox (which is making it hard tothink, but that'll probably be covered in a later ramble) and my monitor. I am not a confident soul, and my personality is simply not there, and I can't help but think that it's the internet which has caused this.When typing on the internet, one can quite easily think about responses, and has time to correct their mistakes and avoid any misunderstandings on the receiving end. After year upon year of this, we are dragged from our bodies into the computer-literate 'way'; to say, what you become upon spending far too much time chatting via MSN, Bebo or indeed facebook. This path leads us to forget our human social lives, and also brings us eventually to forgetting how to speak with other people. You are pressured in the real world, apause of over 5 seconds to think about your response would be seen as awkward, and gradually you would become isolated, lost, alone.
There will always, however, as is the case with most of life's little inconveniences, be the exceptions. I am a natural introvert, but extroverts like my good friend Joseph will never succumb to the siren's call of FaceBooking. People like him will never be grasped by this cruel alternate reality and will forever remain encased in their real lives, meeting real people, talking REAL words.
I just thought about what I've said, and it ocurred to me that I'm sounding a lot like my father at this point. I'm sounding a lot like an extrovert myself - but really I'm just an acceptant pessimistic individual who can quite easily come to terms with how pathetic his life really is.
Considering this, I think I'm going to open the curtains and turn on the light.
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Ramblings - Volume 2, coming soon to a blog near you
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===================================================================
On FaceBook, and the suspicion thereof
===================================================================
Hello there. I think it's about time we met, don't you? Yes, quite. Anyway, without further ado, I will begin my first ramble of what will hopefully be many weekly additions to come.
But down to more pressing matters. I'm rambling about facebook today, and oddly enough, I'm posting the ramble on the 'Demon Site' itself. But it doesn't seem all that bad, once you get to know it. I mean, it's not like you HAVE to post you details for the entire universe to see - the truth is in fact quite the contrary - and once you have become acquainted to the familiar blues and whites of what would seem at first glance a poorly designed site, it's all very useful. It allows you to speak and communicate your feelings without the need to spend credit on a text or phone call and without the need to spend time arranging a get together with mates. However, Facebook's greatest feature would also seem to be it's Achilles Heel.
You see, upon actually looking at what social networking sites are doing to us, it becomes apparent they are depriving us of that human contact that we as social beings so desperately crave. I for one am a lost cause, there is no saving of my confidence - no, it was flushed down the lavatory a long while ago - but there are some people who are rapidly losing the 'human touch', as it were. We are simply becoming slavesto the machines, no longer a functional being but rather a series of 1s and 0s transmitted via fibre-opticsto all the rest of the world: without having to leave our bedrooms.
Hypocricy indeed, considering that at this time I myself am sitting on my chair in my room, door locked, curtains drawn, lights off, with the only sources of illumination being my Xbox (which is making it hard tothink, but that'll probably be covered in a later ramble) and my monitor. I am not a confident soul, and my personality is simply not there, and I can't help but think that it's the internet which has caused this.When typing on the internet, one can quite easily think about responses, and has time to correct their mistakes and avoid any misunderstandings on the receiving end. After year upon year of this, we are dragged from our bodies into the computer-literate 'way'; to say, what you become upon spending far too much time chatting via MSN, Bebo or indeed facebook. This path leads us to forget our human social lives, and also brings us eventually to forgetting how to speak with other people. You are pressured in the real world, apause of over 5 seconds to think about your response would be seen as awkward, and gradually you would become isolated, lost, alone.
There will always, however, as is the case with most of life's little inconveniences, be the exceptions. I am a natural introvert, but extroverts like my good friend Joseph will never succumb to the siren's call of FaceBooking. People like him will never be grasped by this cruel alternate reality and will forever remain encased in their real lives, meeting real people, talking REAL words.
I just thought about what I've said, and it ocurred to me that I'm sounding a lot like my father at this point. I'm sounding a lot like an extrovert myself - but really I'm just an acceptant pessimistic individual who can quite easily come to terms with how pathetic his life really is.
Considering this, I think I'm going to open the curtains and turn on the light.
==================================================================
Ramblings - Volume 2, coming soon to a blog near you
==================================================================
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