Goodbye to all that

Here's the thing. Everyone seems to be in a Happy New Year mood today.

For me, it's just another day.

I had to question what day it was.

Time is odd.

2009 has been ok. Some good times, some not so good.

2010 will be what it will be.

It's the now that counts. Right now. Whatever moment you're reading this.

Be...Here...Now...

Voodoo, who do?

I once had a discussion with a colleague over the nature of man.

She sided with the Dalai Lama, bless him, who held the view that people are essential good in nature, however were occasionally capable of acts of extreme selfishness, barbarity and so on.

I counterpointed by proffering  the opposite opinion.

You see, the evidence just doesn't add up. We are, in essence, rotten to the core.

At times, when we have some paradigm shift, we may do something other than selfishly. It's our survival instinct. It has nothing to do with religion, spirituality or good versus evil myths. It is who we are. It is the rarity, rather than the norm that every so often we act out of care for others.

Altruism is as real as the tooth fairy.

It shouldn't surprise us then that a person is capable of getting a two year old child drunk, then sticking over thirty needles in his tiny body, in order to 'get back' at his wife. It shouldn't shock us when yet another shooting/suicide/house set on fire takes place.

It should however, always appal us

Homage to 'Homage'

Just before Christmas, I found myself in the superb 'No Alibis' bookshop in Botanic.

It wasn't long before a book caught my attention.

George Orwell's account of his time spent as a volunteer in the Spanish Civil War in 'Homage to Catalonia'.

Having only read the first four chapters (for me as a non-reader this is quite an achievement), it would be unfair to say anything other than it is a fascinating account of those times.

They can be summed up in a few key words; lice, filth, cold, futility and antiquated weaponry.

The war itself breaks my heart, as do all wars, however this one in particular for the shattered and puerile fragmentation of the left.

A type of playground infight, where 'My red's redder than yours' seemed to be the order of the day.

This is tempered in part by the fact I feel a tinge of satisfaction that someone from my home town volunteered to serve in the International Brigade against fascism. A no-brainer if ever there was one.

The man was David Frederick Pritchard from the Scrabo Road. He was 31 years old and went missing in action, presumed dead in March 1938.

Why is this relevant in 2009?

Fascism changes its clothes every so often, from the obvious to the slightly more subtle, the openly xenophobic to the 'not in my back yard' type, however it remains a constant in every society.

This is why I hold to 'No gods; No masters; Against all authority'

NO PASARAN !

In Bruges

I visited this remarkably beautiful city sometime in the 1980's with my parents. We did all the tourist type things, canal trip, waffles, sightseeing the Gothic buildings etc, and yet much like Ray's character in the film, it bored the absolute arse off me.

The film in my view, is one of the best of the decade, combining pathos, humour, drama and so on all wrapped up in a script that crackles and fizzes with excitement. Martin McDonagh deserves high praise for giving each of the central characters that 'humanity' which is often lacking in theses types of film.

Now, as an adult, I would very much like to return to Bruges, this time with my own family and see whether like me then, they find it their own version of hell, or like me now, a delightful, enigmatic and charming place to be in.

Never on a Sunday

I read recently about those unhappy campers in the Cook Islands who objected to internal flights taking place on the Sabbath.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/8424640.stm

In most of the Western world, people couldn't care less what one does on a Sunday, shop, play sport, go to the pub, or even dare I say to whatever place of worship floats one's boat...

It wasn't that long ago, however that in this part of Ireland, people were unable to let their children play at the park as the swings were chained up by their local councillors, under the auspices of protecting people from having fun, leading to hell-fire and damnation.

In the Cook islands, protesters gathered at the airport, here they tend to camp around theatres showing 'controversial' plays (maybe two guys kiss and deliberately cause Armageddon) or breathing in and out in a non-religious fashion.

Therein lies the problem. Whenever people become so dogmatic as to exclude any rational thought, free speech or discussion and have the power to exclude others, be they believer/agnostic or atheist, we need to resist their zeal

Deal or no deal

An appalling government driven billboard ad has appeared in our town with the slogan 'Don't be a dealer'.

It portrays a hoodie wearing young person of indeterminate age, but looking around late teens or earlier twenties, shiftily passing over a supposedly illegal substance to some teens marginally younger than he.

The fact that tens if not hundreds of thousands of pounds of tax-payers money has been skimmed off to front this ridiculous and misguided campaign is nauseating to me.

Here's just a taste why...

The 'illegal' substance in question is wait for it, heroin? Nope, cocaine, er, no have another go. Grass then surely? Wrong again, it that most evil and gateway drug ALCOPOPS. Orange flavoured Bacardi Breezer by the looks of it.

What it should have portrayed in my humble opinion, is the seedy, middle-aged men who hang around primary and secondary schools, making a living selling drugs to kids for chrissakes...to show a young person in a hoodie passing over a 4% alcoholic fruit drink, not only makes a laughing stock of more serious matters, but demonises all young people as being shifty and untrustworthy oh and evil beyond comprehension to boot.

What idiot in a suit thought this one up?

The Mighty Boosh

Isn't it great when you get a dose of your favourite things for Christmas presents, like Meharis sweet Orient or jelly beans, or The Mighty Boosh live dvd!

Brings back memories of seeing them up close and personal in Edinburgh. Row 5.

In Row 4, sat a few lads on a night out. One of them kept turning round and leeringly shoved a Bacardi breezer at my then 14 year old daughter. Poor guy must have thought his idea of courtship was working.

Despite her polite refusals, he persisted.

That is until I lost my patience and very subtly, quietly and in hushed tones leaned forward and said 'did you not get the message?'

'Whaaaat messshhaage?' he slurred.

'This is the message', I replied

'Fuck off'

His mate beside him was furiously texting and over his shoulder I glanced 'some Irish guy...'

We weren't bothered again the rest of the show.

No-one messes with my daughters...

Fantasy Dinner Guests

This Christmas Eve I was thinking of my ideal dinner guests, excluding family or friends.

I suppose it would be a group of individuals whom I have admired over my lifetime, for what they stand or have stood for and those who have inspired me or grabbed my interest, or even just made me laugh.

Here they are then, in no particular order, oh and in a fantasy dinner, they don't even have to be alive...

1. Spike Milligan
2. Peter Tatchell
3. Nicola Tesla
4. Sophie Scholl
5. Anne Frank
6. Mike Oldfield
7. Michael Palin
8. Anita Roddick
9. Aung San Suu Kyi
10 Gina McKee
11 Helen Mirren
12 Derren Brown


Your health and happiness

Christmas Shopping

I woke around 1.30am and went downstairs to check if my virtual wages had been deposited in my symbolic interactionism bank.

They had.

Off we drove, bleary eyed and arrived at the mother and father of all capitalism.

One slight kerfuffle was the licensing laws, which prevented us from getting any booze.

That aside and a large amount of money later, we could now bask in the knowledge that should the four horsemen of the apocalypse arrive on Christmas, we could at least give them a mince pie.

It's A Wonderful Life

It's around this time of year we sit down and watch the film which has so much to say about love, missed opportunities, sacrifice and redemption.

I don't think it was made intentionally to necessarily reflect any religious or spiritual significance. For me it makes a simple statement and one which remains the best piece of advice I have ever received.

Years ago my father made the comment that 'very few people in this life give a damn about you'. I didn't quite understand the gravitas or significance of this at the time, being an inward looking, selfish and self loathing adolescent.

Over the years however, I have distilled his advice into this simple equation.

There are radiators and there are drains; the former give out warmth, comfort and succour, the latter suck the life out of you, leaving you empty and exhausted.

The solution is to recognise and embrace the radiators and avoid the drains.

Give me flawed people who give a damn any day over seemingly 'perfect' but detached ones.

Earth needs more George Baileys...

Angels and Demons

Jimmy Angel would be spinning in his grave! (if he had one)


The man who allegedly  first flew over the highest waterfall in the world in Venezuela, or the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, depending on your loyalties is about to be demoted to a footnote on the map.


Hugo Chavez, C.E.O. of Venezuela P.L.C has announced on his weekly reality tv show that he wants the name to revert to the original indigenous one Kerepakupai-Meru which will be a bummer for pub quiz nerds.

Hilariously, both Senior Chavez and Jimmy Angel could have been separated at birth, judging by recent photographs, although the most recent one of Mr Angel is rather disturbing.

There has been much debate over the years as to whether Hugo has been an angel or a demon as far as the good of Venezuela goes, a hero to some for his anti-U.S. stance in foreign policy, a corrupt dictator to others.

Jimmy the pilot, however, could only be referred to as an angel and was last seen fluttering around his (for now) namesake.

It was after all on his birth certificate.

Snow

What is it about our fascination with snow?

Maybe it's because we rarely see it here, we become child like with wonder and imagination.

On any other day my waking our girls early would have resulted in a few choice words. This morning, however, they both looked confused enough not to shout at me when I said 'look out the window girls'.

In a short time, they were making snow angels and having fun snowballing each other. Marley dog hadn't seen much snow before and was understandably cautious.

The snow had caught us by surprise and meant we needed to be creative in our entertainment plans, and yet old habits die hard and Sunday papers were duly collected along with an array of tasty Christmas treats.

Like snow, life occasionally throws us a few extraordinary curve balls, which we need to try to deal with...

Family

It's around this time of year we rush around frantically, sorting out presents, food and drink and the obligatory family get-together.

Last night was side, which was pleasant, laughter filled and everyone in good humour.

This afternoon was my wife's family and again it was an enjoyable time with afternoon tea and a whole array of tasty food.

It seems to happen 3 or 4 times a year.

When it does we come home asking ourselves why it's so seldom.

Life is too fragile not to make those important connections.

Oxymoron

Military intelligence, blood soaked Obama and Kissinger winning the Nobel Peace prize and so on, yes it would appear I touched a raw nerve when I wrote against the 'Sun Military Awards'.

An old friend felt stung enough to respond...

'which happen to mean a lot to those who have fought steadfast and without question for their country'.

I doubt the loon grinning celebrity presenters could even find Afghanistan on a map, never mind explain why troops are there.

I sense his annoyance at my stance, however in my defence, the 'Sun' has a long track record of sickening hyperbole, far right-wing scaremongering and sensationalism.

Hardly a noble outlet.

Don't give me that crap about 'protecting Britain from terrorism'. Since when was it under attack?

Utter nonsense and smokescreen.

Lies along the same lines as those told attempting to justify Iraq.

R.I.P. David Kelly.

Bubble wrapped

Tonight we dragged ourselves to our daughter's Christmas concert.

Our reluctance to attend had nothing to do with her, rather the bubble wrapped community in which she had to perform.

People who passionately believe in whatever they believe in, however are so isolated from contact with the rest of society, they are truly devoid of polite, considerate social interaction.

So much so they posted the 'thou shalt not leave the room' police at the door, blocking us in, invading our personal space and making us feel thoroughly uncomfortable.

The saving grace came when our daughter's performance was top of the bill, and we reached round the dragon to free ourselves.

Outside, barriers had been placed in our way, but nothing would have held us a minute longer in cult hell. With millimetres to spare we drove away, having escaped our own Waco.

As Dorothy says 'There's no place like home'.

Facechanger

This Chinese opera has bewitched people for centuries as it gets handed down from generation to generation.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/8415217.stm

Up to ten hand made and exquisitely decorated silk masks are used in any performance and operated by a 'trigger system'.

It mimics human nature, I suppose. One second we can switch from contentment to sadness, from peaceful to angry. Of course this depends on a combination of our circumstances, our emotional make-up and so on.

The basis for contentment seems to lie in steering  a middle course of sorts. This is where living with depression gets tricky. For some medication is essential in releasing the depleted serotonin,  for others a combination of exercise, healthy eating and general busyness helps.

No two people are the same of course, but I know I only want to have one face to present in public and private.

The genuinely contented one.

Footsoldier

This is who I am.

It's who I've always been. From Shop Assistant, to Road Labourer, from Student Helper to Machine Operator.

It's who I want to be for they rest of my days.

Not a General, a Prime Minister or a C.E.O. Not even a Team Leader.

In some circles, this is looked down upon as being quite disgusting attitude to hold.

To have a complete and utter loathing to 'climb the greasy pole'.

You see, to lose contact with your colleagues and start dictating what they should do would revolt me.

That is why I'm proud to be a footsoldier.

The Big Man

When is a nuisance missed?

When it dies.

Yesterday we arrived home to find our 'adopted' cat in a peaceful sleeping pose on the grass bank.

It wasn't sleeping, however.

Over the years, it had chanced its luck, getting fed surreptitiously, stroked and ignored when it was curled up on top of the washing pile, having slipped in through the opened window.

Another 'Big Man' didn't quite die yesterday, but was given a bloodied nose instead.

There won't be any tears shed when he dies...

Whatever happened to the Spree?

Stumbled upon the glorious Polyphonic Spree this morning. What an awesome uplifting, joyous sound, especially Soldier Girl.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uzddaCSwpE

It is one of my fantasies that if time travel were ever possible I would choose to be part of Ken and his Merry Pranksters touring and tripping across sixties America in that fabulous psychedelic magic bus of theirs.

http://www.scottpcook.com/clothmonkey/images/further240.jpg

The other period I would rush to would be la Belle Epoque, the Paris of Toulouse, Moulin Rouge and of course the genuine green fairy.

Where does my mind wander?

B Liar

Quelle surprise, Mr you know who says he would have invaded Iraq even if he had known (which of course he did) that there were no weapons of mass destruction.

I nearly crashed the car when I heard the 'news' on the radio.

This is the idiot who wanted to be President of Europe...

Despite massive public outrage and hundreds of thousands on the streets saying 'Not in my Name'.

And they say we live in a democracy...

Friends

Last night was the first Christmas party (I know I'm an atheist but I detest the word Xmas) I attended this year.

Some people performed a few 'turns', not epileptic mind, more entertainment like and others watched and laughed or didn't and so on.

I noticed people tend to gather around those they feel most comfortable with and that's fine, so long as it doesn't exclude others from taking part.

Where it all goes wrong is where hushed conversations are held and snippets overheard which cause doubt over a person's integrity.

Life isn't fair, you say. Let's make it fair, I say.

How do you do this and prevent 'Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose?'

Say what you mean
           and
Mean what you say

Alive

Without pressures or deadlines, no-one looking over your shoulder; no statistics to collect; no boxes to tick; no forms to be filled or motions to be gone through, or things done for the sake of being seen to be done.

This for me is where I'm at and it's where I feel genuinely alive after 7 years of existence...

My routines and my activities are my choices.

It's because of this I am alive.

Bullshit, bollocks, and bumfluff.

No, it isn't the name of your town's newest solicitors, just a statement of opinion about the 'financial crisis', which quite frankly bores the frigging arse off me.

How is it that the 'government' (first against the wall...) can get away with being £178 billion in debt? Then ask us to pay for it?

What does that even mean?

Is it a lorryload? A mini skip?

Money only exists to keep the people in their place and when you're at the top of the shit heap there's no-one left to wheel you off to the asylum.

It's all just symbolic interactionism anyway. You can't eat paper or keep warm on coins.

It's only a matter of time before we all get micro chipped...

You can have it all

Millions in the bank, trophies galore, Presidential endorsements, sex on tap and yet behind the fake smiles, the real story emerges.

A miserable human being, thrown into the limelight by a parent trying to live their life through their child's.

Years later and everything is collapsing around him, his reputation in tatters. endorsements at risk, shunned by fellow players and in real danger of suicide.

The case serves to remind us that yes, you can have it all, but without meaning or satisfaction. The authorities who have been guilty of preferential treatment, have to be brought to account as well.

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars'.

Today more especially so than others.

Copenhagen

More hot air I suppose...forgive me for being cynical but when have the authorities (see 'Stop all that doom and gloom right now') ever done anything out of altruism, rather than profit?

When I still thought I gave a damn about people and maybe, just maybe the powers that be did too, I learned a harsh lesson in reality.

Companies (and yes that does include charities and so called 'Care Organisations') are driven by two ethics; how much money they can make and how little can they spend  pretending to be so very wonderful.

Surely after Kyoto, we know that promises aren't worth the expensive gold embossed brochures they're written on?

Is there anything worth bothering over?

There's a beautiful line in The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, where Christopher Plummer says something along the lines of  "It is true what you say you know; everything you touch does turn to shit".

The more attached you become to things, the more fragile they become, the greater the danger they will turn to dust in your hands. Buddhists warn against attachments for a reason.

Mind you, the opposite is equally unthinkable, not giving a damn...I'm just in grouchy form because this time of year reeks of everything I despise; greed, phoniness, arguments, tension, and the delusion that millions believe somebody, or something, somewhere is in charge.

There isn't.

Feeling safe

Cancellations, delays, maybes; things working, things not.

These all serve to make me feel unsafe. My foundations become polystyrene.

Strangers in a neutral venue are welcomed, listen to, smiled at. Those who enter or may enter my territory are potential threats. Nerves become fragile. My body tenses.

When they arrive, they are treated with respect and courtesy. When they leave, I can breathe again.

Is this natural? Probably (not).

As John Lennon sang 'you can count me out (in)'.

Right up my Straße

So it goes, wrote the great Mr Kurt Vonnegut.

In other words, there isn't a whole hell of a lot can be done to stop things happening.

Like struggling with the weariness of it all, the repetitious, mundanity.

I know it's not a proper word, but like reality, mundaneness is incredibly dull. It's also the height of ludocrosity (yes it doesn't exist either).

Sometimes when we want to give up, we should.

Shakespeare on ice

This morning a book arrived from Amazon. On the left hand page, strangled gibberish, allegedly written by the godfather of English, the bard, el Shakespeare;  on the right hand side, modern English.

Tonight, I shall attend an audition for this play (Twelfth Night). My face may well tell my grief, as they say and my sanity to audition questioned. In this case, the play isn't the thing, it's the craic and for that reason alone I hope to get a part.

L'enfer c'est les autres

Things which really tick me off;

1. Not being able to find things you think you know where they are.
2. Things which don't work which should.
3. Sudden or irritating noise.
4. People.
5. Caps lock being on when you think it's off

APART FROM THAT I'M ACTUALLY OF QUITE A CALM DISPOSITION.

The Boilerman Cometh

He's here, he's polite and he's fixed things as fairly as he could without unnecessary work. We now have heat upstairs, hoorah. Sludge removal from the pipes is another matter in order to have hotter water. Oh, and £200 on top of the £45 handed over today.

All these things remind me of a little plaque type thing which hung on the back of our bathroom door when I was little;

Please remember, don't forget,
Never leave the bathroom wet,
Nor leave the soap still in the water.
That's a thing we never oughter,
Nor keep the bath an hour or more,
Nor leave the towels about the floor.
When other folks are wanting one,
Please don't forget-it isn't done.

However that's another job on a long list.