Switching Off...

This evening I had 90 minutes of televisual pleasure. Channel 4 broadcast the apparently un-broadcast-able. The shows title - "TV They Tried To Ban." A winning formula if you can get away with it. They obviously thought they could, and it seems that they have.

May no one be in any doubt; the people in charge of programming at this institution of British broadcasting have Big Brass Balls and love nothing better than fronting up and spoiling for a fight with anyone prepared to test them. The spectrum of offending subject matter was impressively broad, the swearing turned the air blue and the rest, to nurture a metaphor, encompassed all the remaining colours of the rainbow.

There were "fucks, cunts, niggers, wogs, and twats." All obviously in the context of education and way above reprehension. We had anal sex, gay sex, donkey sex, cadaver sex... and when I say "We" I mean "They" but you got that right? Sacrilege was a big winner in the form of "Jerry Springer - The Opera." Which received a whopping 50,000 complaints (49,000 before the show was even broadcast). Live Seances, live Autopsies (and again to avoid confusion I'd like to stress the body was dead but the show was live) and German men eating dead babies all had their spot on another defining moment of spring cleaning in our domestic broadcasting.

They're [programme schedulers] trying to draw a line under something. That something is Time, but time does not want to have a line drawn under it and it's trying to make it very difficult to do so... it's not sitting still for a start.  But it is being subjected to analytical filing.

It appears the major networks of the world are hell bent on telling us what we, as a race, have experienced in recent decades. How things have evolved and developed into something righteous folk label disgusting but regular guys'n'gals embrace as captivating entertainment. "WE'RE ALL GOING TO HELL!" ...apparently. But hey, when we get there they'll probably have all the good re-runs.

I've seen shows documenting the 'Top 100' broadcast regularly for the last 12 months solid. We have had;100 of the Worst TV Moments100 of Best adverts 100 ... Heart wrenching moments 100 best comedians 100 best Sitcoms 100 bad boys 100 divas 100 Sporting moments 100 Icons 100 Political statements 100 World Achievements 100 best films 100 worst films 100 best songs / bands / artists / guitarists / bouts of uncontrollable flatulence.

Today is not the day for creating history, it's the day to re hash it, dress it nicely, put it in a cab and send it down memory lane. The only feasible outcome for this un abating trend for categorisation is in the production of 'The 100 best, Best of 100's'. Which is ridiculous, but still probably watchable.

Network executives have tapped into something we are all drawn to at a genetic level. Competition. Sure, depending on the topic different people will have different levels of desire to tune in to it, but that's not the point. It's not what wins or loses, it's what we FEEL should have won or lost.

The living room conversations after these shows are inevitably about where WE would have put different elements if WE had the chance and how THEY haven't got a clue, or they got it exactly right, it feels like they made that show just for me!  And may they long continue. I sleep soundly in the knowledge that there are creative minds out there designing ever more intricate pieces of definitive social dissection. And We, in our own subconscious way get to do the very same thing from time to time to our own friends and family. Yes we do. They're called 'Best Man speeches.'

Distractions...

Distractions? I should be working now, I should be the personification of a finely tuned motivated nucleus of efficient production. I've been fiddling for the last 10 minutes with an old piece of pasta thats rolled out from behind my monitor.

Is a distraction a distraction if you've sought it out? If the phone goes then that I guess would be a text book distraction.What if you've got an answer phone? If you answer the phone when you could let the machine get it then you have made an excuse to answer the phone to get away from what ever it is you were struggling to do.

My desk is organic. There is a circle of life process going on I swear it. Some stuff is eating other stuff, then shitting out new stuff, stationary is fornicating, I found 3 highlighter pens in a tray I never knew I had. This is distracting, Inanimate objects catch my eye, but the freaky bit is they seem to then shy away from my glance and I can't then seem to find the very thing I was looking at.

A quick itinerary of my desk, before it rearranges itself, or becomes hungry,

Pencil sharpeners x4
Calamine lotion
Nepali prayer flag
goggles
sepia filter
14 golf tees
Baseball, signed
Forest Gump
Lip balm x2
Japanese chewing gum
Rock from beach
International driving licence (expired)

There's other stuff too, but I got bored, and the dictionary bit me. None of the things need to be there, I don't know how or when they did get there. I have just found a minutery pair of flip flops on a keyring... pointless, random, and not mine. There is a stencil at the back poking out from behind an ashtray thats never been used (the ashtray or the stencil) And the time when it will get used is the moment when I should be doing something else.

So the irony is that as I sit here lamenting the frustration delivered to me in the form of random desk dwelling attention sappers, the biggest distraction is desire. The desire to moan. I should be working but instead I'm distracting myself by writing about how I'm getting distracted... Only one thing for it... FOCUS!... 1 more cup of tea, and then focus!... Maybe a bacon sandwich too, then I'm DEFINITELY back on the case!

Evo-lotion...

I've had a few scares recently.  I've been messing around here and there, been visiting places I probably shouldn't, or definitely shouldn't, without the right protection and well, I nearly paid for it.  I have been playing with the proverbial match, and damn nearly got burnt.

Viral infections are no laughing matter.  If one of your mates tells you he's got an STD you grimace supportively and enquire as to the damage.  If he's lucky he can get short term relief from a pot of yoghurt and an off-the-shelf product. Though a pride swallowing trip to the clinic, where he or she would 'swab' the infected region thoroughly until enough inner penis tissue had been removed to keep the boys at the lab busy, is inevitable.  This procedure would be completed regardless of how much you cry.

But you don't get infected unless you’re fucking around in uncharted territory.  A couple of bottles of Galiano after a dry spell and we are Outrageous flirting a-go-go! Throw in some chicken dancing with a grope or two and you're a splintered arse from a car park fence away from having an itching and burning sensation in your under crackers.

Searching for porn online is the same deal.  You know you should be more careful.  You know you shouldn't believe everything you read or hear.  But you can’t help it.  You want the good stuff - the Honey.  You've done it dozens of times before; found perfectly safe sites.  Why shouldn't this be different?  And then BAM!!!

In the heat of the moment as your pants are snagged around you trainers you hit 'Yes' to something telling you to download something to see the stuff.  Oh fuck!!  The online doors of Hell break open as your screen receives a carpet bomb of pop-ups...

There are cocks and tits. dildos and grannies, dirty arsholes engulfing fists cascading over each other in an unquenchable spray of filth, one after another filling the screen!  F*CK MY ASS!!  CUM IN MY EYE!!!  SUCK MY BALLS!!!  CHEW MY CLIT!!!  Links to Depravity with preview Mpegs!  You naively launch a feeble retaliation, focusing all the energy your index finger can muster into the red 'X's in the top right hand corner!

If you had a hard-on it vanished the moment your stupidity took control of your motor functions and proceeded to pull the pants of your hard drive down.  Your task bar has turned from a respectively organised window of Icons & Descriptions to a concertinaing mess of electronic dirt, seemingly unclean-able, like trying to get diarrhoea off a laminated floor with a biro! And the trousers you're wearing round your ankles like a restraint are only serving to compound the futility of the moment, as you sit there with your flaccid cock dribbling jizz over your thighs and favourite chair.

Your're panicked, shrivelled and vulnerable as viruses and spyware all the way from fucking Guatemala suddenly get a whiff of grade A exposure!  They sit bolt upright like a swarm of desert rodents, detect the source and advance, attaching themselves to your PCs innards like Centinals!  Common sense regains control by beating stupidity round the head with a big stick, and hits Ctrl-Alt-Delete, END FUCKING TASK!

Now I know there's Service Pack 2 and Norton, Sophos, McAfee etc, and I know I should wear my seatbelt and cut down on caffeine, and floss.  But this isn't the world I live in.  I'm a learner.  I once checked if the iron was hot.  It was and I have a scar to prove it.  Now I check if the irons light is on.  This is my own personal evolution.  If I have a fatal car crash I intend to never Not wear my seatbelt again.

I guess the deal is; If you want the honey, you need to go to a super market or a similar professional outlet where they take the risk out of the equation, or at least have a basic knowledge of amateur beekeeping.  If you don't…You should prepare, every once in a while, To get stung on your bare Ass.

Some Stuff Cant Wait...

The Pre-teenies are busy, busy days for most of us. Time management is more important now than it ever has been. Our information exchange is fast professionally and socially, we are having to make decisions quickly. We organise and schedule and we put aside the things that can wait, and we get everything else done. Occasionally, we have to deal with what is right in front of us, immediately.

Cleaning up carpet barf. That can't wait. Come to think of it, cleaning barfy teeth too. Though it might have to wait if your in a curb. Spilling something dark onto something light? The economic collapse is something affecting other people if you're cool with that happening. Big Bill C probably wishes he wiped himself off that lass' dress with some urgency too, an example off of the old days.

Standing in front of someone who's just got your name wrong? That needs nipping in the bud right? You let that hang and you will be, at best, a variation of your own name, at worst a completely different one, for the other gender.

Common Cartesy...

I realised something about my driving yesterday. I only let people out at junctions because it makes me feel good.

Its not about easing congestion or sympathy they've been there forever, I'm all about the gratitude. I'm looking for a raised hand in thanks, a nod of the head in recognition of my gesture and perceived humanity. If I don't get either of these, its okay, its not too late. I wait for the blinking hazard lights of joy, I like that show of appreciation. Out of the 3 its the most effort. A button needs to be pressed. The pinnacle of this; Let a lorry out a night and you can bathe in the blinking glow of his huge industrial lights.

Another nice gesture to provoke is from a biker. Clock one in a mirror and drift a couple of feet out of his way and the appreciative rider will/should/might  raise their hand. It's almost imperceptible, but that fine because lets face it more than a touch dangerous.

Motor car or bike a warm fluffy feeling covers me for a few seconds because a complete stranger has thanked me for something I have done. I sing a little bit louder after this I think.

However, if I get none of these, Ooooo it irritates me. I curse them with the mantra "Oh right, charming, like that is it? I was just doing my job was I? A 'Ta' too much was it? Geez!"

Why do we expect more of drivers? If someone cuts me up while I'm walking I don't think I care. If a door isn't held open I think nothing of it, I'm going through it; I'll open the door. But if someone takes an exit I'm waiting at without indicating... Oh My God... "IIIIINNNNDDDDIIIIICCCCCAAAATTTTTEEEE YOU $£&*ING &$"£! MUNCHER!! I COULD HAVE GONE THEN!!!"

I'm Angelic of course. Whenever I forget to indicate its a trifling matter, a forgettable oversight, dammit it's almost whimsical. Its certainly not the kind of evil and callous action of the Machine Devils I come up against in battle every rush hour! ...Or so I tell myself.

Either way, may all offenders be struck down by something itchy and rash based.

Cars that drive themselves - The antidote to rage. Its on the horizon and very exciting. The downside; It will make gratitude accruing junction decisions too. Based on something cold and logical no doubt. So when the time comes, as I'll have 2 free hands, I guess I'll have to regress to something more childish like waving frantically at other cars... Wave back huh.

The Internet has a GSOH?

When did this happen? Has this always been the case? What prompted this was an error message...

I have never been made to smile by an error message before. I cant say it diffused my frustration, because I really don't think I had the time to build any up.

The internet weavels have done good work here! ...Unless of course this is a serious message.  It's not like they can't already write prose!


Hey, what I'm going to do if I see them is run. But if things turn nasty and they resent me adding to their admin workload then I guess we're just going to have ourselves a geek Human Monkey death match.

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