taking ass and kicking names

Back home, being a damn good host and making sandwiches for guests whilst people have a jolly old time sucking at halo without me. Xmas came and went with the usual forced fanfair that it does in this household. we view it as something to be tollerated rather than enjoyed, like alternative art, or a really ugly hooker. BUT new years is fast approaching and that is where the action is a as far as I'm concerned.

In factoid, I was thinking about having a bit of shin diggery at xmas, and shall make feeble attempts to contact people who's company i only enjoy when under the influence (My mum feels the same way about me) Was surpised to have new years of work actually, certainly wouldn't mind the mula, double time double kill. Ended up applying for a student loan, despite atempts not to. on the plus i have more money in my account than any other family member. On the minus a grand total of £2200 needs to eventually be payed back. which sounds bad until you hear how bad other students suck with finance.

Wikipedia has fallen from grace lately, party because no tutor will respect it as a reference, and partly because of my discovery of conservipedia (the truthful encyclodpedia) Does anyone else in higher education suspect that the only reason lecturous lecturerers lecture is to hear all your good ideas (such as comparing corilanus to achilies) and then writing them in their own exciting dynamic papers

Epic Fail!

Why why why why didn't i just listen to my mother and buy her perfume? who'd have thought buying for a young lady would be such a minefield. Striding around feminine shops looking at feminine things and feeling very very out of place. ah well done is done and you know what? they were damn nice slipper socks (with enhanced grip and enforced heels!) Am I joking about this? maybe, maybe not. I'm a terrible liar anyway, so i make up for it by lying compulsively. WOLF!

I saw twilight. A film based on a book written by a mormon about vampires, but really about the dangers of having pre marital relations. also has a lot of racial purity going on in it. For the highschool prom the black guy ends up with the black girl, the jock with the cheerleader, and that asin kid better not even think about asking anyone else than a nice chinise girl down the road. plus indians gotta stay on their reservation.

Also, i have concluded that God is in fact an atheist. Reasons? well to beleive in any god requires just that-belief. And certainty of something isn't really belief, its knowedge. and what is god? Omninicient-all knowing. when you know everything you can't believe in anything.

thought of the day-remember farscape? How GOOD was that. well until they got to earth at least

pretending pretensions mk2

Once again for journalism. once again only pretending to have an opinion
When exactly is fully developed?

Few subjects have attracted as much controversy as the development of stem cell research. There are a huge number of issues surrounding it, be they political, religious ethical or medical. Although on the surface it may seem like essentially all the same issues that accompany abortion, i.e. pro lifers defending the rights of embryos, angrily declaring that they have all the rights of a normal human, the reality is far more complex.

The main problem is that the arguments rarely keep up with the technological breakthroughs that are being made. Few people have a well grounded understanding as to what stem cell research actually entails. The reason why Stem cell research is such a highly debated subject is the public perception of it. It is seen as creating life for the sole purpose of destroying it, subverting the natural order.

For understanding this, it is important that we understand what exactly a stem cell is. Stem cells are cells that can, with correct hormone signals and chemical stimulation can proliferate into any kind of cell. And in turn, an organ is a collection of one type of cell. So, in effect, stem cells can be grown into any part of a human body.

There are two main types of stem cell, adult and embryonic. Adult stem cells can be used to repair and maintain damaged tissues. Also like Embryonic stem cells they can differentiate into different cell types. However their ability to do this is limited, and often restricted to one type or line. By contrast Embryonic stem cells can differentiate into any cell line, giving them a far wider range of applications

Less controversial sources of stem cells can be located in an individual’s bone marrow, or umbilical cord blood. Problems do exist with these, few people wish to donate their bone marrow due to the great pain caused by its extraction, and only a relatively small quantity of cells can be extracted from umbilical cords and amniotic fluids. Scientists have also made limited progress in the reverse engineering of Embryonic stem cells from everyday normal somatic cells that are found within you and me. If they succeed then public opinion could swing rapidly. After all, almost no one criticises blood donning.


Religious qualms, particularly in the catholic faith, centre around the idea that man is trying to play god through such pursuits. Recently The Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, which oversees Catholic Doctrine, issued "The Dignity of a Person" to help answer bioethical questions that have emerged in the two decades since its last such document was published.

The new document clearly and concisely states it’s condemnation of embryonic stem cell research and in vitro fertilization. Yet it does allow for some use of vaccines derived from stem cell lines and some forms of gene therapy. While a cynic like myself might wonder if this is to combat the so called “gay genes,” it does reflect the growing trend for gradual acceptance for such research.

Conversely though, Islam adopts a very different view. Sharî'ah law currently permits married couples to have in vitro fertilization provided the egg and sperm do not come from donors. Also, a distinction is made between “potential life” and “actual life,” namely that actual life begins at roughly 40 days of conception. Some experts, such as Dr. Muzammil H. Siddiqi claim that because of this, stem cell research is permissible within the Islamic faith. However, he also has views about its strict regulation. “The use of embryonic stem cells should be very heavily limited. Only allow isolation of stem cells from frozen embryos that were created for the purpose of in vitro fertilization and would otherwise have been destroyed. Obtain full consent from the donors. Provide safeguards against monetary compensation to embryo donors and against the creation of embryos in excess of what is required for in vitro fertilization”

One other issue surrounding stem cell research is that many see it as a precursor to human cloning. Research has already been conducted into creating embryonic stem cells via early developmental cloning and with Dolly the sheep we even had a live example of a successful cloning technique. Basically the point is that they have a cyclical effect upon each other, and that increased application of one will result in increased application of the other. It’s a side of the debate that rarely gets examined, but a hugely important one none the less.

We are told that the medical benefits of stem cell research are staggering, capable of curing seemingly every disease known to man, from cancer to hair loss. But is it really the miracle cure that we have been promised. Sceptics say that embryonic stem cells often have a high chance of being rejected by the host’s immune system, in the same way that organ transplants fail. But animal testing has given positive results, with dogs being effectively treated for brain tumours via the injection of adult stem cells. Though you may not realise it, there have already been several successful human applications of stem, cell research, such as bone marrow transplants.

In America there are a number of stem cell lines available, yet President Bush has repeatedly vetoed bills proposing the creation and funding of new lines and limited funding to existing lines. The E.U is heavily divided on the issue as well, with research being non permissible in a number of countries like Austria, Denmark, France and Germany.

Britain has had a slightly more comfortable history with stem cell research than America and other European countries. In 2002 The UK stem cell bank was founded at the National Institute for Biological Standards and Control (NIBSC) with the aim of housing and developing stem cell lines. NIBSC is a publicly-funded scientific organisation whose function is to assess the quality and safety of biological medicines such as vaccines and blood products.

Scotland itself now has its own base of stem cell research. The Centre for Regenerative Medicine (CRM), at the University of Edinburgh is one of the leading proponents in the research and application of stem cell research. Construction is
currently underway for a new centre of research in Little France. The £59M building has received substantial funding from the Scottish Executive and Scottish Enterprise. It would be a reasonable assumption to think that this will see further support by the Scottish executive of such research, as well as shifting international focus towards Scotland itself, though unsurprisingly Alex Salmond is keeping very quiet on the issue.

You may be interested to know that the vast majority of patents for human embryonic stem cell research belongs to just one organisation, the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation (WARF) And the interesting thing about WARF is that while they freely allow academic study of stem cell research, for any sort of commercial use there is a charge. Very recently though, the legality of their patenting has come under challenge, and should any legal dispute go badly for them, then we could see a rapid increase in the commercial use of stem cells.

In fact, if you want an example of a country that has successfully applied stem cell research then look to China. The majority of its stem cell lines have been harvested from the umbilical cord blood of live births, again sidestepping controversy. Treatments are readily available for such diseases as multiple Sclerosis and Parkinson’s, and many medical tourists enter the country to take advantage of this.

Like it or not, it seems further research into the field of both adult and embryonic stem cells is inevitable. Perhaps the ethical issues will neatly resolve themselves as different methods of acquiring stem cells are discovered, or maybe a very blurred line between right and wrong will come about. Only in the fullness of time will we see if the medical results cause any great social change.

The best Idea ever

And i'm too lazy to do anything about it. Also, historically, different people tend to have the same great idea at roughly the same time. Hence all the debate about who invented what or discovered what.

Anyhoo, the best idea ever is an X-men/wolverine-Aliens cross over single shot graphic novel. Why such a great idea? Well with wolverines accelerated healing, you can have really awsome scenes where a chest burster blast right through him and he heals back up. hell make him stab himself in an effort to kill it while it's in him, only for the acid blood to melt through him. HOWEVER because aliens assume characteristics of their hosts, then this one has awesome healing too!

So there they are, both slicing each other apart and melting and regenerating when who should come in? No not wepon X! alien gets captured by canadian governentment and it too is grafted an adamantium skeleton. except Aliens of course have EXOSKELETONS!

I will make no money at all from my great idea. but remember where you saw it first!

Home

Nuff said really

these ARE the droids you're looking for

All you can eat at china buffet king followed by all you can drink at the pub turns out to leave you feeling pretty damn crap in the stomach department. Still, got my essay in today, only a mere day late and a mere 100 words short. made a few impressive points about how allegorical myth gave rise to the metaphysical poets, except that wasn't anything to do with the question. also learned about "Sprezzaturra" which is how i live my life.

Time for some relgion! Original sin was the first independant and wholly original act of mankind (save Adam getting to name everything-thereby cementing it's nature) and the eating of the fruit of knowelge was the first act of free will, so kudos to eve who kind of got the shit end of the stick when it all hit the fan. Though i will still rip the piss out of any feminist that blames me for the penis glass ceiling.

thought of the day-Why is it the bigger man that always has to bend his will (and back) to all the small people?

Remember this???

over a year old, so be gentle...


Jim had drunk a lot, and thus needed a wizz sooooo bad. Hence he was not entirely observant of the sign that hung above the door. His friend Stewart, or stew the lying bastard as he was better known to his friends, had simply pointed him there and Jim had stupidly taken his word for it. He really should have known something was up when he saw that there were no stalls in the room, but the deadly combination of full bladder, weak bladder AND shy bladder prevented him from giving the problem his full attention. And now he was trapped, like a rat in a toilet cubicle in the women’s bathroom. Stuck Behind enemy lines, surrounded by hostile forces. No doubt feminists with scissors, knowing his luck. They had come in before he was done, laughing and talking about strange, womany concepts that scared him. Such things man was not meant to know.
Of course he could have simply walked out and explained the whole thing, but he had the misfortune of being nicknamed Jim the dirty pervert, for no other reason than he had 3 times walked in on his flat mate having sex. To be perfectly fair only 1 of those had been on purpose. His reputation would only be further cemented by this…misunderstanding, despite his best of intentions that all he wanted to do was siphon the python, with a 20% chance of hand washing afterwards.

Righto JimBob, aint no sense worrying about this problem. What we gotta do is solve it, with James Bond suaveness and Solid Snake sneakyness. Look around man, see what you have at your disposal? What would Magyver do?

Jim nodded to his internal monologue, which always seemed to be ahead of him. He scanned the cubicle for something, anything that could be used to help him out of this predicament. The toilet! Maybe a man could, with a bit of effort, squeeze himself down through the plumbing and swim his way to safety. Jim stared a long time down it, weighing his chances. He was about to try and stick his leg down it when he realized something vitally important. He had not yet flushed. Then something else struck him. The idea was stupid.

Bah, good plans are so hard to come up with when you’re incredibly drunk

Jim nodded bitterly in agreement. He resumed his scanning of his prison. What he really needed…was to look like a woman! Maybe, just maybe by stripping that toilet brush of its bristles for hair, constructing a dress out of toilet paper and using addition paper for cleavage…

Good, good. You’re on to something here, just a bit more…

“There” he muttered, after 10 minutes of cosmetic surgery. Unfortunately he had ran out of toilet paper at the final stages, so rather than being his preferred cup size of DD, he as a slightly more lop sided AC.

He looked over himself critically, thinking what a good job he had done. Had their actually been a mirror present he would have reconsidered this opinion. He braced himself for the coming challenge

Ok Jim, remember. Sway those hips, pout them lips, and for gods sake look graceful! Like 2 swans effortless mating upon the still frozen lake of early spring. Now…show time.

He opened the door and flounced out. Two young women, who had been touching up their makeup, glanced at him in mixed horror and bemusement.

“Hey girlfriends” he crooned, unable to resist abusing his brief gender swap. “Did you see that hunk out there called Jim? I dunno about you’s but I’d certainly give him one night to remember!”

He winked at them both and departed, amazed at his own ingenuity. Outside he found Stew.
“Hey man, them unisex toilets are pretty far out eh?” Strew told him “Girls and guys pissing together. It’s like we’re living in the future man! You’re covered in toilet paper by the way. Did someone jump you?”
Jim looked at him for a long, long time, before he finally said, “Shut up stud and buy me a drink”

JETSOOOOOOON!

Had to do a character sketch off the cuff for journalism. behold my pa

My old man has a catch all angry look, and it’s a pretty good one, able to silence small children and make older people wary. It’s all about the eyes, wide and crazy and arched by a sever brow. Most times it’s more put on than genuine rage, and you can spot a wry smile beginning to curl its way up his mouth. He uses it as a tool rather than an expression, just try talking over a favourite program of his and watch him turn it on you.

Then again, he has mellowed some in his golden grey years. And as such he has developed a new look, one of exasperated reproach. This is helped in no small way by the addition of reading glasses, softening the blows of his brow bashing. He now peers over them with disdain for the latest sheer stupidity he has bore witness to.

The glasses used to be a bit of sore point, and he was loathe to buy them, but necessity generally wins over conceit. And now I reckon he has grown rather attached to them, filling the role of world weary intellectual as he proudly announces that it only took him four weeks to finish the da vinci code.

whimsical xmas list

A replica of josephs technicoloured dream coat
A jane cobb hat
rubber aligator
fluffy bunny slippers
All of avatar on dvd
a bubble pipe
a monocule
hungry hungry hippos

fluff

Scene shifts to the next day, in the hustle and bustle of the market

Vendor Fresh fruit! Get your fresh fruit! Red apples and blue berries. White grapes and dark cherries! Buy and try and then buy some more!

Gordo Another Cherrie to pop in my mouth my good sir. A ravenous appetite I have for the things, with their sweet juices in my mouth

Vendor Might you not buy a bunch, rather than a mere morsel at a time

Gordo Ah, but who savours that which is plentiful? It is only through scant rarities that we derive true pleasure. To the parched throat brackish water might taste of sweet nectar. Only to the starving slave does crusty bread seem a meal fit for a king

Beck enters, having overheard this exchange

Beck And only to lonely hearts does cupid’s arrow strike true

Gordo Good morrow my friend, true words be your first this day. Hence my desire to be a moving target, not tied down by any individual affection

Beck And perhaps Cupid might find your heart too small a target for his milky filmed eyes to perceive

Gordo Many other foolish lovers fall afoul of his failing sights. Lovers’ quarrels rise as Cupids quiver lies empty and spent of spite

Beck Ha, the more I hear you speak of him, the more of him I see in you. And was your own spiteful love well spent last night? Any grim satisfaction to be had by the tainting of that young maids clear blue eyes?

Gordo I suspect I am not the first to dip a toe into those shallow depths, though a tasty dish she proved to be. Yet I already feel my appetite coming back to me

Beck How fitting a man who didn’t know his father would end up trying father so many

Gordo Hardly, I left my lady with the gift I leave them all. Red snare herbs. If she makes and drinks the tea no child will she be burdened with.

Beck And if she doesn’t?

Gordo Then I wash my hands of her. The letter I left made clear my intent. No true son am I and no true father I could be.

Beck Quite the romantic, aren’t you

Gordo And quite the son are you. Tell me, has you father found out about his empty breeches where you pursued his purse for gambling purpose.

Beck I have yet borrowed time to pay my borrowed debts. He is out of town on urgent business, leaving us free to reclaim and redeem from this unseemly scene

Gordo But how to go about such a venture? Perhaps with more funds and more cards

Beck No! through honest labour shall we recompense.

Gordo Very well, let us flee and seek some truthful work. Quickly though, for the sun slows for none.

Gordo exits hastily

Beck Strange he be so eager

Vendor What! That swine has made off with my wares! I trust you shall pay his fare !

Beck Tch! I shall good sir…let me just seek coins, in my other breeches!

Beck runs after Gordo. End scene

the worker sells his penis

There are a hell of a lot of asian chicks mailing my bebo account telling me how handsome I am. though susicions are raised when two of them use the same profile picture under different names. I don't really go in for the whole Asian fettish thing myself (racist!) Nor have i ever found black women very attractive. And before anyone Godwins me up and say only Aryan will do for bob, blondes generally get excluded as well.

I should probably stress right now that I have a foxy young lady that puts up with me, and i'm quite happy with the whole situtation. It also proves my theory that good things do happen when you dress up as zorro and drink lots of cider.

Having had various esssay submission (hold) dates mistaken or moved, it turns out that i'm not really in the shit at all. Plus, I'm gradually distinguishing myself too my tutors in class-even if i did reference terry pratchette one time. also note-a marxist reading of harry potter ISN'T very interesting. What IS intresting however, is going through das kapital and replacing every usage of the word labour with the word penis. go on, try it!

"If capitals that set in motion unequal quantities of living labour produce unequal amounts of surplus-value, this assumes that the level of exploitation of labour, or the rate of surplus-value, is the same, at least to a certain extent, or that the distinctions that exist here are balanced out by real or imaginary (conventional) grounds of compensation"

Also, if you substitute capitalist for evil killer robot, then almost no difference is made at all.

Thought of the day-if you want penis advice, ask a gay man

behind blue eyes

Cabel sat and drank and tried to avoid looking at anyone. He ordered another drink from the barman with his eyes downcast. He liked it here. The place was underground so there were no windows, and no effort was made to cater for women, so no mirrors either.

His dark dark sunglasses slid down his face and he hastily adjusted them. Through the black monochrome that he saw the world, he tried to read his book. He had to hold it very close to his face to make out the words. The cover was gone from it. It had been carefully torn it off when he bought it. Why did authors insist on having their pictures on their work?

The barman, for want of anything else to do, turned the television on and Cabel swivelled on his stool so his back was to it. He was well practised in blocking out certain parts of the world. What he couldn’t block out though, was the rough shove he received that sent him falling off his perch, arms flapping wildly.

Picking himself off the floor, he adjusted his sunglasses again and looked at the big biker boots of the person that had pushed him.
“Yes?” he said
“Why'd you turn your back on the game, you prick?”
“I don’t follow it” he told the boots
“It’s cause we scored, you sectarian bastard. Wasn’t it?”
“No”
“Shut up” The boots arms grabbed him and spun Cabel around so he faced the TV “Now watch the replay of this amazing belter of a goal”

Rough hands ripped Cabel’s sunglasses off and the gloom of the bar pierced his eyes. He blinked rapidly and then shut his lids tight, but not before seeing a whole sea of faces on the TV. He felt sick, like eels and snakes were fighting and fucking in his stomach. He was spun round again.

“Now” said the owner of the big boots and the heavy hands. “Tell me that wasn’t poetry in motion, you wee fuck”
The rapid spinning proved too much for Cabel and he emptied his stomach onto the broad chest in front.
“Sorry” he said, hurriedly bending down to pick up his glasses.

A vicious kick greeted him and the shades were broken against, and with, his nose. Cabel's head shot up in pain and for the first time he met his assailant’s eyes. No no no no…

But it was ok, and he breathed a sign of relief as he received kicks and punches from someone that didn’t have to die.

When the man had left, Cabel picked himself up and went to the bathroom to clean the blood off. He did this in the closed stall with water from the toilet basin, just in case anyone surprised him. reaching into his jacket, he pulled out another pair of opaque glasses from a bundle that hadn't been damaged by the beating. Satisfied with this, he went back out.

The bar had gone silent, except for the sound of channels being changed in rapid succession. And the scratch of someone furiously scribbling down notes. He risked looking up. The barman lay slumped over the table with a knife in his back. And standing over him, nonchalant and with eyes fixed on the TV, was Cabel’s brother, Sain

“Hey coward” Sain said, not shifting his gaze. “Still failing to live up to your gifts I see” he gestured towards the barman. “And I bet you haven’t been doing any homework either” Scribble scribble went the pen.
“What I don’t know can’t hurt or haunt me” Cabel replied
“Then why is your nose broken?” Sain put his notebook away and walked over to him. He grabbed Cabel’s nose and twisted it left with a crack.
“There, good as new” he said, staring right through Cabels sunglasses and into his eyes. Not once had Cabel ever seen his brother blink.

“You disappoint me” Sain went on “Hiding down here from your duties. Not seeing the world as you should” He plucked off Cabels glasses and flung them too the floor.
“I don’t much care for what I see” Cabel replied.
“Judgment is a divine responsibility. And we have both been proven right too many times to question ours. Remember the child you refused to kill, and all the evil and death she wrought?”
“You would not kill her either”
“Well, we were both weak back then. Both hoping that we were wrong or sick in the mind. But while I have grown strong enough to shoulder this burden, you remain weak. And so here I am, to set you back on the right path”

Sain went back to the barman and pulled the knife out. He handed it to Cabel. The handle was fashioned to resemble an eagle, with dark red ruby eyes set in. Cabel stared at it a long time.

“Come brother, there is work to be done” Sain put his arm around Cabels shoulder and steered him to the door. Cabel stopped, and looked his brother dead in the eye.
“I wish you weren’t always right” he said, and thrust the blade through his brothers unblinking gaze. He pushed deeper and harder, bearing the twitching, flailing form to the ground. Push and bleed and push.

He stood up and looked down. One of the rubies had fallen out of the dagger. Cabel gave a grim smile, went to the duke box, and made a selection. It booted up and he sang along with it.

“No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes”

He ripped out his eyes from their sockets and put his sunglasses back on. Then he walked out, unwilling and unable to look back. If he could, he would have seen Sain’s one remaining eye give a last twitch in the form of a wink.

Some time later, when a passer by had seen the bodies and made the call, the police and ambulance arrived. A search of Sain’s body revealed he had an organ donor’s card.

leather bound smarts

Bookshelves are like the intellectuals trophy room. Stuffed and mounted heads line up, proclaiming our reading prowess. "Thats right, I read all of the illiad, check me!" The shelf proclaims. thats why public libraries are still under rated, despite being one of the best ideas ever. We want folk to come into our room and look upon the volume of our achievments and go "so thats the kind of person you are" You can't judge a book by its cover, but we often try to judge people by who they read "An Orwell fan are you? that makes you crazy socialist!"

I'm proud to say that I have an entire shelf devoted to graphic novels, so ha! how very ironically alternative of me.

Bsck to orwell. Had this trippy dream about 1984 being mixed in with the redwall series. So you had the fox police going round being evil and cunning while the mole-itariate work like dogs and Big badger watches over us all with an iron paw!

Thought of the day-Its kinda bad that i get the words zietgiest and zygote mixed up sometimes

synchronized fan hitting

I'm slightly in the shit. And different shades coming from different sources have all hit the fan at the same time.

don't clone me bro!

I play guitar a lot. Accoustic mainly. I used to lean towards electric, mainly cause when i started playing my fingers were soft and squishy, and electric guitars are generally easier on them. But there's a lot less hassle with accoustic, in the simple terms of amp and effects and all that. I also used to use a pick, for the same squishy reason. Now I'm all about the finger picking, gives you more options.

Because i play guitar a lot, there isn't a thick layer of dust on it, as is the case with my dads. sometimes I even clean it and restring it. But, theres a part of it i refuse to clean, for wierd reasons. Because I finger pick, above the saddle and bridge there is a thick layer of dust, accumlated over weeks and months and years, AND ITS ALL MY OWN SKIN!

ummm, yeah

bleh

I told myself I'd feel proud once i reach 10000 words, but i don't really. Maybe when the damn thing is finished I'll feel proud.

i should have really done my essays today

teeth the colour of toffee pop corn

Busy weekend let me assure you. First there was mild sexual molestation at a bus stop, with three dudes waving their tadgers at me. Which highlights the need for me to carry a lighter about from now on. Then there was a reasonably good flat party, where I won at gay twister (like normal twister, but played with gay dudes) And then, on my extremely tired walk home from a flat full of women, i came across an old dude lying on the ground with a young dude doing the contraversial thing of looking over him in concern and calling an ambulance

The young guy explained to me he had seen the old dude collapsed in the middle of the road while drivign, and so had stopped to drag him to the pavement. Now this old guy was quite the sight let me tell you. He fair reeked of booze and piss and shit, his fly was undone and his hands were stumpy and deformed. he did have a rather spiffy cowboy hat though, which he clutched weakly in his non fingers.

I waited with these two, feeling fair useless and pointless, though a whole bunch of other folk passed without so much as looking. I'd like to think that maybe my presence made the kind young guy feel less awkward and stupid for having stopped and done the right thing. wishful thinking no doubt

Anyhoo, eventually the rapid response car ambulance arrives and the paramedic steps out with an air of skepticism about him. which was quite understandale given i think the old dude started demanding morphine off of him. it was hard to tell, his voice was cracked and strained and full of hate for the world. the paramedic (who i was not the least surpised had donned sanitary gloves) told us we could leave. we did

Saw the old dude the next day, walking down the street. gave him a nod but i don't think he recognised me

thought of the day-why do non employed students feel they have a right to call themselves members of the the socialist workers soceity

damnit!

Hey, nice bowl cut robert. you know who you look like in that picture
who?
Gai sensei!
Damnit stewart!

*Later*

I need the toilet, but someones in there! Time for a dynamic entry (thats what she said)
Ha
Stewart, you better not start calling me gai..
GAI SENSEI!
Damnit stewart!

*Later*

Hey guys!
Robert! Is that a woman up there with you?
I don't have to answer that
Gai sensei scores!
Damnit stewart!!!

scrappy dappy doo

Right , I know we all worry about disambigous "yous" getting mentioned on blogs, what with the para oh god oh god are they talking about me? noia. Rest assured, they arent. But I'm putting a stop to it damnit! Well here at least anyways. So everybody know that the you here is aimed at my super smash brother

You are right of course. I got no call to bitch and moan about anything. but then i wouldn't be a kilgour if i didn;t go off on a manly sulk every now and then. so bleh.

And now on to random great awesome ideas that have been gestating in my cranial womb. We need a currency called errection. think of all the fun times that could be had- "the erection rose above the dollar today" "The value of the errection is at an all time low" "The errection plummeted" "The errection isn't as strong as it once way" "damnit you gave you 5 erretions and i only got 3 and a half back" And so on.

Other thing-what with the weather being as it is, i reckon that with setting the clocks back an hour for daylight saving, we'll also have setting the month back for seasonal accuracy. what a strange and terrible future to live in!

Thought of the day-Pride is like HM cut, only useful in very specific circumstances

getting a feel for it

Beck There is nought left for us here Gordo. The day is gone and lost with our wealth. Perhaps if I throw myself at my father’s mercy he may only beat me.

Gordo Nought left for you, but perhaps I might yet leave with a prize.

Gordo approaches the serving maid

Girl Alas my lord, you have lost your hand

Gordo Might I be compensated with yours? Link it with mine own. With tips we brush and caress the canvas of each others palms, tracing tender affections upon.

Girl It is smooth to the touch, though I’d thought it be rough

Gordo And yours be cold when I’d hope it be warm. Let me breathe upon this snow, and paint it less pale with my breath. A better reason to breath than merely to sustain myself

Beck approaches, looking pained

Beck If stay you must, then I leave alone. I fear my bed is calling me home

Gordo I shall see you in the …afternoon. Morning might yet be much too soon.

Beck Departs

Girl Perhaps we might heed the same calling my lord. The work of mine here is done

Gordo True. And though your hand is now coloured and framed, much else of you there still remains.



Scene shifts to Elmin, walking desolately down the streets


Narrator Luckless Elmin broods through cobbles and dirt and grass. His steps are careless, for there is no destination in mind. Only the small solace to be found in motion

Elmin My spirits have ebbed away like the tides. Fitting, given that no moon graces the sky. Her ghostly light refuses to illuminate, nor can my lantern imitate. Darkness grips us all, and the pool of light that I bathe in only covers me with the stink of my own thin, wavering shadow.

Beck Gordo!

Elmin What! What apparition approaches me?

Beck Hold fast Gordo, did that woman prove herself canny and see through your thin grinning guise? Just as well, you idiotic baboon arsed clown…

Beck reaches Elmin

Beck Ah, apologies my lord. Though night’s thick cloak I mistook you for a companion of mine.

Elmin An honest mistake, as most mistakes are

Beck Ha, you speak true my lord. Yet honest mistakes are oft punished with the rest. Tell me, now I get a look at you, for I wish no disservice. Are you Prince Elmin?

Elmin That I am

Beck Indeed!? This night makes strangers of us all. A father would not recognise his son.

Elmin No, no he would not

Beck Well, unless there is any service you need of me, I shall depart, and hope my own father will not distinguish me. Farewell

Beck exits

Elmin How the fates toy with me, like young cats with a mouse. Sending words, though spoken in goodwill from an unwitting vessel, that might rub salt in fresh wounds.

Drunken laughter is heard

Elmin The sweet sound draws nearer. No doubt another mocking blow awaits.

Gordo What want have I for light my lady? The steps of the dance are well known to me, and the velvet darkness is a garment I would never shorn. Though certainly I could do without a chill

Girl Hold me closer then Gordo. Also warm yourself with this fine wine I have thefted for us. Indeed half I have already had!

Gordo My love for you grows and grows

Girl So I see

Gordo That would be the bottles neck. But look, a stranger appears

They reach Elmin

Elmin Good eve to you both

Gordo And a good eve to your good self my good good sir

Girl A strange thing Gordo, he resembles you in many ways, though his brow be less kingly and his chin less manly.

Gordo Indeed, I might call him brother, though I treat all men as such. But come! To home we go, so I might hold you even closer. Adieu brother.

Gordo and Girl exit

Elmin Well played my unchosen foe. Twice you send me reeling. The Scorn of my father follows me far. Yet I cannot help but feel that through the cruel teacher of pain a lesson may be learned. A father would not recognise his son? Then perhaps a wife might not recognise her husband. It does not bear to dwell on such thoughts, yet encamp I must!

Elmins lamp goes out

Narrator And though it pains him so, Elmin schemes with darkness. Thus for the good of all, his heart is rendered heartless

Watch out obama, it's zombie Oswald!

Right, if you ever want to mess up the age old debate of kirk vs picard, heres the how. Just chime in that, in point of fact, it is captain pike that has statistically had the highest mission success rate, least crew deaths and best ratio of female scoring out of all captains of the starship enterprise.

Also, turns out i'm a bit of a chain drinker. hand feels pretty damn empty when there isn't a beverage in its retractable claw. fortunatly, experiments last night proved that the drink need not even be alcoholic, and i ploughed my way through about 4 pints of water. as a result i feel not shit this morning, which let me tell you is a novelty that will never wear off.

Also, want to get kids interested in politics??? heres the how http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=kdRXptTmLqc

Pretending Pretensions

Got to write a collum for journalism, which means acting like i care about "important" stuff. current political thinking among friends is obama is sooooooo gonna get assasinated. anyhoo...

S.S.D.D

Did you know that there’s an American election on? You did! Well now, how about that. And I thought I was the only one.

Actually, you’d be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t know about the election right now, which is slightly odd, given that it’s taking place some five thousand miles away. Ah but then there is our “special relationship” to consider. And of course, I’m afraid to say but our transatlantic companions do tend to put on more of a show. After all, this is history in the making. A black president? A female vice president? Either way this election goes, things will be different forever. And indeed, as things currently stand, Barrack Obama is certainly looking the stronger contender. Change we can believe in, so the slogan goes.

Except I’m not exactly rejoicing. After all, though certainly interested, I’ve never had the urge to be politically active. Perhaps youthful apathy, or plain ignorance and laziness are to blame, but personally I don’t much like the notion of my ideals being politicized. They are too complex a thing, formed from unique experiences, to be put into either catchy slogans, or general policies.

And also, I’m sorry to say, but things in my eyes seem very much similar between the two camps. I’ve watched all the presidential debates, and true Obama is quite the orator. But he answers questions in very much the same way McCain does. When either is accused of something, the say something along the lines of “simply untrue” and then makes a counter accusations, without really explaining why it’s untrue. They both rely on rhetoric to turn a difficult question either towards an issue they are comfortable with, or an attack on their opponent.

Then there was the whole thing about the election turning nasty. Harsh words were thrown about and pointless accusations made. Regardless of what they say, or even who fired the first shot, it was clear that both parties were investing time, effort and money into smearing their opponents.

Even their policies seem similar. Both Barack and McCain admit that drastic steps need to be taken in order to stabilise the economy, which of course means tax raises. Both admit that the war on Iraq is not going well, and that U.S troops need to be withdrawn. And both are staunch defenders of Israel, and hostile towards Iran. The staunchest of republicans admit that climate change is now a serious issue that needs to be addressed. While the most liberal of democrats concede that drug abuse is not being dealt with effectively.

There is one person, in my mind who has stood out from the herd of public pandering politicians. Ron Paul. There has been just as much booing as cheering that has accompanied his speaking. In my opinion the booing is good. It shows that he is sticking to his guns and not trying to appeal to everyone, which would inevitably mean disappointment for some. I was frankly amazed when I saw him stand up and say that maybe, just maybe the reason the Middle East hates America is because they keep bombing them and establishing bases there.

He really made a name for himself at this years Republican nominee debates, accusing the party of ignoring the constitution and “losing its way”. The debate, which was broadcast live, had a phone in poll for people to vote who they think won out of all the candidates. Ron Paul came first, with 26%. John McCain came last, with 2%. Hosted by the fair and impartial Fox News, the poll was later deemed flawed.

I also respect his stance on abortion. Personally I have always kept away from this issue, seeing it as something I have no right to have an opinion on. As the pro-choice side say, it isn’t my body. Paul however, as well as being a congressman is also a physician, Obstetrician and Gynecologist, and has done much of his work pro bono. Records show that he has in fact delivered well over a thousand babies, as well as having observed numerous hysterectomies and abortions. He, unlike many, has earned the right to an opinion on the issue.

Certainly it would be fair to say that a few of Congressman Paul’s policies seem slightly radical. Going back to the gold standard, despite the reasonable logic behind it (gold being after all, effectively immune to inflation) seems enormously impractical, and Pauls non interventional policies would most likely mean withdrawal from NATO, resulting in a huge power gulf and a scramble to fill it. Less than ideal of global stability.

Yet the more I hear from him, the more I like him. He is a breath of fresh air, an honest man in the fickle world of politics. I’ve never voted in my life before (again, youthful apathy) and I’m American or have even been there. But if I could have, I would vote for Congressman Ron Paul.
.


Word count 828

Recommended for The Times

a scrap

man i need to tidy up my saved files...

We each of us play out our parts
I clutch the fossil of your heart
stabbed by thorns it begins to bleed
but I hold on with practised ease

If I’m obsessed and you’re distressed
Why tolerate this careless caress?

And you tell me just what I am
Hold my eyes and take my hands
Scolding tongue burns my ears
Why must you be so sincere?

It hurts to know that I’m your foe
The source of all your woe

running out of steam

Scene shifts to a tavern, within the city centre

Narrator Look now all, upon this place of ill repute. Shady dealings are dealt here, with cards and with lives. The beer flows through the night and past the day, here where men pass their present and share their troubled pasts. Welcome to The Split.

Gordo Drinks to this table serving girl, so I might drink to your beauty. It is a miracle indeed that a rose like you can bloom in such a dismal place.

Narrator The man with all the pretty words is Gordo, known throughout for his charm and quick wit. A smile is ready on his lips and lady fortune seems to smile back, along with countless other ladies.

Beck Slow down my friend. Let us not fug our heads whilst we lose our money in foolish bets. An admirable poker face you have, but does no good when you hold your hand backwards.

Narrator His closest and oldest friend, Beck and Gordo are quite the double act. What Beck says about a poker face is true, for he knows of the deep wrestles rage that hides within that easy smile


Gordo Not to worry my boon companion, five hearts I have, and with that I shall win back all.

The other players at the table fold. Beck slaps his head in vexation

Gordo Well, what say you Beck. Are you in, or mere chickin?

Beck Fool! We play for the same cause and with the same money, most of which is mine. Half of which my fathers.

Gordo Pah, the further we can get from fathers the better.

The serving girl returns and smiles at Gordo

Girl There you are my lord

Gordo Thank you, my lady. Rest assured, though you serve me this drink, I would serve you forever

The girl smiles and blushes before walking away, casting her eyes back every now and then

Beck I trust she realises that when you say serve her you mean service her.

Gordo I’m sure she shall get the point. She may even understand what I mean as well. Now back to the game! Let us rob these men of all in their pockets, and then of their pockets as well.

Narrator Gamely they play, and gamely Gordo loses. Finally fate smiles at him and he is given a hand that can win all. And so bet all he does. Even Becks share becomes ensnared.

Beck Fortune best favour this small fortune you wager, Gordo!

Gordo Courage my friend! And doubtless none here have the courage to match and to call. Like the mute swan, all they may do is hiss with regal redress.

Narrator And true enough, the players do fold and do curse. Yet one among them does not, a figure shrouded by silence and shadows. Weathered hands toss a leather pouch into the fray, and Gordo feels himself being stared down by unseen eyes.

Gordo Very well oh ghost of the corner. Let us lay ourselves bare, with truth in our hands and hearts on our sleeves. Behold and bemoan! Four kings do stab at thee.

The crowd gasp and more than one man is glad he folded. Gordo goes to take the money, grinning. But the leathery hand settles on his.

Stranger Haste makes not grace, young one. The kings stab in vain. Though they think the highest of themselves, we all know the truth.

Gordo No!

The stranger shows his hand and people clap theirs

Stranger Above them lie some. Four aces shield me.

Gordo My wealth!

Beck Fathers wealth! No honour shall I bring home, nor love receive!

Stranger Foolish to put your faith in kings. They are fools themselves. Look upon the lord of hearts. No closer I say!

Gordo He…he stabs himself.

Stranger Aye, showing him the wisest of the four. Think on that, as I take my leave.

Stranger exits

a playe of epyc proportins (the start anyway)

A long shadow


Men of the world doth promises make
And many a man of oaths have spake
Yet promise and oath be heavy weights
And sure as the dawn these things do break
This be a tale of promise to one
One man to other, father to son
Of words unsaid and of deeds undone
A grain of truth, a mere speck, a crumb


Narrator Behold the fair city of Arrowshorn, prized Gem in the crown of Galad, a kingdom like no other. Only fitting then, that the king himself resides there, seated in his throne in the seat of the world. Once he was a wise and just ruler, but as a rule power corrupts. His seat holds too much comfort and turns him complacent. Neglectful of his people, he concerns himself only with idleness and luxury.

King More wine and wenches. More beef and bacon. Only the best for a man in my station

Narrator Thus it falls upon those below him to make sure he stays atop. Dutiful son Elmin shoulders the burden. A subtle Atlas he is, carrying all worldly concerns with him always.

Scene shifts to Elmin in his study, hard at work

Elmin Grain imports from the east are drying up. Look west for new crops. Taxes in the slums are too high, while the temple district distracts the coffers with pretty words. What need have men of the cloth for exotic silks?

Narrator Day and night the son toils. His young pretty bride, recently wed, still awaits christening of marriage bed. Yet a secret Elmin does hide

Elmin Of fair maidens touch, I can abide. I seek not the company of boys, though that’s what some say. Yet neither flesh doth give me a rise. As fertile as dust I am. No fruit shall flow from these loins, no seed can be sown. Childless forever I’ll remain, though I must hide it, to hide my shame.

King bursts through, with favoured wench Mary

King What ho, my son! Still with your head buried in books, while your wife waits for it to be buried in her bosom. Folly I cry! Folly!

Elmin Father please, I have work to do.

King You speak true. A young maid to be laid and a grandchild made. That is the work that must be done. And thirsty work it is

The king drinks deep from his flagon and fondles Mary, who giggles

Elmin But the people must come first. For seven generations the proud family of Phearson have looked over the kingdom of Galad, protecting its citizens from all that besiege.

King Indeed, Indeed. And very soon you will be king. A better ruler than I, methinks. Yet the people are content with this old fool now, for they know that you will take my place. The eighth Phearson to wear the crown and sit within the Pillar of Tears. Yet the people must know that a ninth King will follow. If the line is broken then all illusion of stability is gone, for nought keeps us kings but mere tradition. So I implore you; sheave your sword in her scabbard. Be it long or short, broad or narrow. I once knew saw a man curved like a rapier.

Elmin There are better ways to measure the worth of a man than with a ruler. But what became of this rapier you describe?

King Hung for rape.

Elmin No doubt he was pressured by his father to produce a son

King And yet without a son you shall never rule. Do not think yourself smarter than I, child of paper and ink. It is with flesh and blood that we are made. We are borne into the world covered in the stuff. And with our flesh meeting a maids do we make more flesh. Know this; I have signed a degree declaring you illegitimate for the throne should wifey fail to grow into a more fitting form.

Elmin And what of stability? Of the great and noble family tree?

King I have branches of bastards to replace you. You are just one stalk from my crop. True you are smarter than most, but what use a plant that does not bloom. And what of your bride? I see in her eye a desire of the carnal. If you will not lie with her, then perhaps I might.

Elmin Father! Enough of this talk. I am a Phearson, of hardy stock. I shall take my bride soon.

King When?!

Elmin At hunters moon, so shall my arrow prick her.

King Excellent. Come Mary, to my chambers we go. An argument is good for the blood and makes it flow

King exits

Narrator And though the king now be full of glee, all Elmin knows is sorrow. For Hunters moon is all too soon, two weeks off the morrow

Elmin A plan I need. No feckless fool can rule. Twould be bad for all. I love my wife, and she loves me…perhaps. Would she take another for a night? Lie with him then lie that it was I that make her with child? Nay, if only so she might avoid scandal. Bah! To the city I flee, in search of some inspiration.

but muuuuuuuuuuuuum

My folks are pretty damn good in terms of giving me my space and letting me fuck up and learn on my own. Hell they even ever so subtley encourage me to try crazy shit and live life to the pepsi max. But theres one point that my mum fails miserably to respect my ill guarded personal borders, and swamps me with huge amounts of illegal immigrating parenting. and this is clothes shopping.

when we go clothes shopping i automatically become 8 again, and she (literally) drags me about the store, forcing me to try on pratically everything, telling me to stand up straight-don't slouch! walk around, look in the mirror and get a feel for it. and all the while attractive young shop assistants try not to laugh. and now i am the ripe old age of 20, its ever so slightly disturbing when she tugs at my waistline to see if trousers are too tight or baggy.

Course you gotta put up with it. resisting makes you look as childish as you're being treated and my dear mama is not above clouting me one if i misbehave. And hell, you're getting free gear so what right is there to complain. (note-a point of some pride in my life is that despite my parents insistince on clothing, i pay for pretty much everything else in my life, including rent. Thats why i sometimes, but not often, hate my fellow students whos folks pay for everything for them)

thought of the day-you know how on a cold day you breathe out hot and smoke/condensation appears? I've always wondered if the same happens when you fart

behold the casual grip of the mundane

a bit more about my voyeurism, and the strange fettishes that hide with me behind the curtains. I find it an incredibly compelling thing to see middle aged people do childish things. I don't mean petty or small things, but actual unconcious actions. for example, there was the besuited business man that complained that his tummy was sore, rubbing it for effect. Or when a woman at work swatted feebly at a fly, wanting it to go away but to scared to actually hit it. Or when I see anyone act shy or akward or nervous. Had a teacher at school that was terrified of her class, and spoke in a voice that shook along with her hands. felt kinda bad for her, and even made the schoolboy error of voicing concenrs to peers, who in turn peer down and declare "you fancy her!"

Bit foolish to assume that adults are in fact always adult 100% of the time. my own deffinition of adult is kinda wierd and pretty damn narrow. an adult is someone that is either succesfully doing the family thing, and/or doing the whole career thing. having salt in your pepper and creases in your facebook (because faces do tell stories, though as always never judge a book by its cover) certainly helps too.

thought of the day-food prices might be shooting up like rich addicts, but cider remains incredibly cheap. and you know what they say about drinking on an empty stomach. Sinister aliaince between governments and brewing companies to keep the prolitariate down??? damn you signor orwell, making me paranoid

more possible fiction

My first Kiss

They say that your first kiss is the one that you judge all others by, that it’s something you will always remember. They talk shit, and if it’s a rule then I am the exception to it. Fact is I cannot remember my first kiss at all, as I was, not to put too fine a point on it, rat arse wasted.

A bit of context might be useful here. At a friends 18th, and a bunch of us were round playing videogames, talking shit and boozing. Nothing new there, but the big amazing difference that marks this occasion out from a hundred other is the fact that there were women present! Now this might not seem a big deal to all you city slickers, but back home young ladies are hard to come by, and ones that would submit themselves to our company were practically non existent.

These young ladies came from the fair town of Peebles, a fairly sinister place it must be said. We met them the worst possible way-online. Or rather birthday boy did, and took a shine to one of them. I was integrated into this whole talking online crap, ands you know I’ll admit, I went for it too. I mean Christ, someone of the female persuasion to talk to that seemed interested in me. I dared hope good things might come of it.

A meet was arranged, where birthday boy hit it off with his target and I did the exact opposite with mine. She didn’t realise this however, and I was too chicken shit to be blunt about it.

Anyhow basically she wanted to hook up with me at this party, and I wasn’t keen on it. So she gets drunk and starts crying on the staircase. Now this makes me feel about as low as I can. So I drink. A LOT. Two litres of cider and half a bottle of straight vodka. The Norsk stuff that sits at about 55%. Last thing I remember was sitting on the couch in a pool of self loathing. Beyond that memory kinda fails.

What I was told however, was this. On my way to the toilet girl crying on staircase jumps up, throws me against wall and starts making out with me. And I am in absolutely no condition to say no. Apparently she had to prop me up to stop me falling.

Not long after this I pass out. This is the only time I have done so from boozing, and it stays with me to this day. You might not think it, but I am damn careful about my drink, and switch to water when things get shaky. My friends came through for me though, and dragged me upstairs to lie in the recovery position as I sleep and spew and die.

They tell me a great story when I wake. Apparently I get up halfway through the night and try and take a piss…on the TV. But what good friends I have, they run down and get a basin, and even hold me still so I don’t miss. Exactly what parts they held is something I never want to know. My friend does have a pool table in his room though, and I have this image of them using the cues like chop sticks to direct my flow from a safe distance.

And that’s how I got my first kiss. Best part was birthday boy actually ended up going out with the girl that ever so slightly sexually assaulted me. Except cause I’m a guy I have to laugh it off and not feel all violated. Sexual inequality-not just for girls.

I’ll end with a little horror story. Obviously I reeked of vomit. When I got home I showered for a year, but could still smell it on me. All day I smelled it, until I blew my nose and discovered it was hiding up there, all crusty and old.

Fiction...?

Making it to the semi finales of the regional Pokemon battling championships


The title says it all really. And before accusations of “nerd” get hurled this was when Pokemon was still cool (like it ever became uncool) Yep, we still just had the original 151 and there was none of this pissing about with natures or hold items or the dubious ethics of cross species selective breeding

There’s only one really important thing you need to know about a pokemon tournament. Every single person will have a team all at level 99. Stupid rare candy cheat, turning what should be hours of tedious grind into minutes of tedious item replication. In my mind here’s how a tournament should play out. You begin a new game at the exact same time, are free to trade and chat, and at hourly periods are forced to battle. It makes it frantic, strategic, and full of plenty of back stabbing and broken alliances. Good training for a corporate environment

Anyway, I’d been lucky so far, matching off against incredibly inept trainers and winning by a fair margin each time. There was one idiot that decided having team entirely consisting of pikachus was a good ploy, relying on the ever so fickle paralysis gambit. My golem and snorlax swept that dream away. Then there was the fan boy, who basically had season 1’s Ashes team. Hell he even had the hat, and twisted it each time he sent one to their untimely death. If he had had the sense to evolve, things might have gotten hairy. Then there was the small child I made cry. I felt bad until he started swearing at me.

And now here I was, in the semi finales. Now the event (held at a toys R us if you were wondering) wasn’t exactly crowded, maybe fifty people in all. But a gameboy, as you well know, is fairly small. I had about eight guys crowding around my screen, as did my opponent, and I dunno about him, but the close proximity of sweaty prepubescents was getting to me.

A Pokemon battle is a lot like poker. From the outside it seems a lot of luck is involved, what with type matches, critical hits and missed status effects. But there are loads of things you can do to maximise your odds. I knew this (from online guides I’ll admit) and clearly my opponent did too. We danced around editing each others stats, hoping like hell our base stats were higher than the others. And then got to the nitty and gritty of sweeping and blocking. My snorlax was on fine form and I was well positioned to counter his. But then he pulled something unexpected out of the hat. A Taurus. I hadn’t anticipated that, and my failure to do so was the end of me. It’s hybrid attack blocker stats meant my snorlax eventually lost out and from there it was a quick clyoister ice beam rally to death. My dragonite managed to finally take it out but the damage was done and my hopes of making it to the finals of the regional Pokemon battling championships whited out with him.

Apologies to anyone that doesn’t have a clue what I’m on about. You N00bs.

A man walks into a bar...and breaks his nose

I keep see-sawing with the cold right now, alternating between flegmy death and 100 health and armour every hour or so. got caught in some nasty ass weather today, my own fault for shunning public transport in favour of booze money. I've always felt the cold more than most, and have taken to wearing hats all the time, and sleeping with (women OMFG!!!!!!!) both a duvet and sleeping bag. stupid global warming, failing to live up to its name.

Work was a fairly casual affair, like the one between me and your mother. The dull grind was routine and reasonably easy going and once again i recieve praise for my pizza rolling abilities. Also turns out boss spoke up for me when manager ranted about kitchen not being clean enough. your damn right it is when i finish up, who else bothers to pull the counters out to sweep beneath them. Its a good vibe actually, to have someone stand up for you of their own accord, so yay for that.

I walked past a burger king that i ate in a year ago and was hit with nostalgia, about sitting in there, people watching (always a facinating thing in any fast food distributor) Then I got thinking, what is the time limit on nostalgia? can you really be nostalgic about something that happened yesterday, a month, a year ago? how long does it take for the brain memory chemicals to ferment into that intoxicating shot of reminisince? to be honest I don't really care, but hey gotta say something interesting.

thought of the day-when we say we're looking for someone to challenge us, what we actually mean is-we want someone that challenges us, but eventually submits and sees things from our point of view. christ forbid they be the ones stronger than us and in the right.

Rainbows give you cancer!

which is why leprechauns are so damn anxious to splash the cash. the cogs of beaurcracy and complacency means i don't really know exactly when i;m leaving work, but i'm doing piss easy shifts anyways-12 hours a week. I think they're being nice to me and want me to suddenly realise that quitting would be a foolish mistake, but i;m sticking to my guns (kisses arms) Sad fact is i've been there so long that i've grown tired of the place. My work is hardly stimulating and i don't actually deal with people so i tend to spend a shift either switched off and running on automatic, or plain bugging staff outta boredom.

Unfortunatly, less hours means less cash, and money is something that is now keenly on my mind again. of course its nowhere near as bad as the good old days of going large in the uni toilets so i don't have to buy toilet roll, but sad as it seems, going out and buying shit is a damn good distraction. and thats why the commies will never win. and given my old man works for a bank that is apparently in meltdown due to credit crunch, i desperatly don't want to be a burden on the folks right now. keeping quiet about the fact he said he'd buy my books this year. most of the shits posted online or in the library anyways, and i still got last years cacky texts to trade in.

In fact, i was thinking about it yester, and i'm actually pretty finaincially sound for the next while. best case scenario is i gets my holiday pay on quitting, so a few hundered there, plus a tax rebate thing of another few hundered. i got 300 in my account and another 800 overdraft that can, if needs be, extended. hopefully i haven't ballsed up the student loan malarky and thats another 800. plus emergency loose change in bags amounting to about 50. hell i could buy an island if i wanted to, and spend the rest of my life paying off debt.

thought of the day-sometimes i think a domineering girlfriend would do me a world of good

OMFG gotta work this year

Seems this year may mean biting off more than i can chew and being forced to very quickly learn how to deep throat. Let me explain. see to be good at my course requires the following things. A good grasp of history, mythology, classics, philosophy, politics, the bible and religion, anthropology, art and its critique, critical theory, media studies, industrial processes, marketing etc. at no point has completing halo 3 on legendary or being able to name 200 pokemon proved useful.

so yeah, basically got a shit load of reading to do. sometimes i suspect an english course is basically one that nabs the catchiest parts of other courses in an attempt to please everyone. given my own lack of specified intrest, this is probably why i like it.

thought of the day-"what is a man but a miserable collection of secrets and lies?" anyone know the quote? cause i don't and its been bugging me a while.

the clocks face has five o'clock shadow

Full of random facts
obsessed with Porn
makes up hip new words and phrases
incredibly self referential
likened to chuck norris
wikigoogletube
awesome videogaming
Either lightening quick or frustratingly slow
constantly entered by strange people
scares the elderly

From this evidence we can conclude that in fact I am the Internet.

Things like this do not happen

She sat down on the bench next to him. The man, who had been staring into space, turned to see if he knew her. She did the same and they held each others gaze. Too long they both looked for them not to say something.
“Hi” she said
“Hey”
She leaned in and further scrutinized him.
“Your eyes are watering” she said.
“Hay fever” he replied
“It’s November”
“Yeah well, global warming and all that.”
She laughed “Well, as long as you’re ok”
He nodded and smiled thinly back, then returned to his staring contest with the intangible.
Fair enough, she thought.

Presently a jogger came by and paused when he saw her. He walked up to the bench and spoke. “Hey Jane, how are you?” he said, breathing heavily.
“I’m pretty good Kevin, thanks. You?”
“Good, good. Look I’m sorry but I got to keep on track with my regime. I’ll speak to you later ok?” he turned and walked off.
“Feel the burn and love it!” she called to his retreating back

She turned and saw the man had been watching this exchange. “Jealous?” she asked
“Envious actually. That was one handsome guy”
“Did you see his chiselled jaw?”
“I was too busy admiring his bulging abs, but he is certainly quite the Adonis”
“I could introduce you two…”
“I’m a poor swimmer. I’d drown in those baby blues of his”

They paused in their verbal jousting to assess the situation. Two people carefully weighing the other up. It was him that spoke first.

“So, Jane is it?”
“It is. Plain old Jane”
“So, what brings you out on this fine day, plain old Jane?”
“Well, the fact that it is a fine day for one thing” she said airily. Then she gave him a serious look “And I think I can guess why you’re here”
“Oh?”
You’re dressed smartly wearing all black, even your tie, with your eyes watering”
“From hay fever”
“I think it a safe bet that it wasn’t a wedding you were at. Were you close?”
“We…were”
“It’s always hard to lose somebody close to you. Ummm, I have. And felt…broken, for a long, long time. There’s no real advice to give or words to help. Just try and distract yourself with your favourite things”
He gave her an incredibly wry look “Unfortunately my favourite thing involves a woman”
She returned his look “And dare I ask the specifics”
“It has a stupid name that does it no justice at all. The only way you could understand is if I show you”
“Does it involve your hands, or mouth or…midsection?”
“No, no and no”
She took a deep breath and said “fine, at the risk of disappointing feminists everywhere…show me”

He slowly and carefully lowered his head to hers and rested it against her forehead. The bridges of their noses touched and formed a link between them and their eyes, inches apart, stared long and deep, his watering but never quite tearing. Then he lowered his head still further so it rested on her shoulder and their cheeks met. She felt him breath slow and steady and hot into her ear.

And just like that he pulled away, fresh stubble scratching her face in the retreat.
“It’s called nuzzling” he said “Sorry”
“That’s ok,” she said presently
“I was thinking about Kevin’s bulging abs at the time”
She smiled “That would explain the other bulge then” she said, pointing down.

He looked confused but then realised the implication “Hey, that’s just Michael Jackson” he said hurriedly.
She gave him a look. In response he tried to pull it out. She gave him another look. But he persevered and held before her eyes an old clunky IPod.
“Michael Jackson” he said.
“You named your IPod Michael Jackson?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“Well, I guess I could make some crack about having it since I was a child, but mainly because it’s a black IPod with a white protective sleeve thing”
“Ahhhh” Another look followed. A much warmer one.

She took something out her bag and turned to the side for discretion. Then she turned back to him and presented it to him. It was a bus ticket. Perplexed he went to take it, but she closed her hand into a fist “You know my name, only fair if I learn yours” she said.
“Michael”
“Like the IPod?”
“Like him” he said, putting Michael Jackson away.
“Well Michael like the IPod, I’m afraid I have numerous commitments today, but I will take a chance here and give you this” she handed him the bus ticket. Then she got up and said “Goodbye”
“Bye”
She walked away.

Michael opened his hand and examined the bus ticket. It had her number on it. He looked at it for a long time. Then he held his palm open in the air and let the wind take it from him. He went back to staring at nothing

A long time later Michael arrived back at his flat, some two miles walk away. The walk home had done nothing to disprove his theory that his IPod had achieved sentience. Whilst on shuffle it had played Bonnie Tylers All by myself, Jack Johnsons we’re as lonely as we want to be and Radiohead’s how to disappear completely. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket when something small blew up against the door. It looked like a bus ticket. In fact it was a bus ticket, with a phone number on it no less. He was cynical enough to assume it could be anyone’s, but still you did not argue with shit like this. He pulled out his phone and saved the number as snakes on a Jane. Hen saw that he had also received a text. Dude, Y aint my best man here anymore???” It said. And just like that, his IPod started playing Nice day for a white wedding.
“It’s a nice day to start again”

no prizes or surprizes

I found this from absolutely ages ago, so no one feel the need to call the samaritans on my behalth. And yes it is just a 2G's rip off


We all know where you been
See the look in your eyes
Yet we all go along
With your tired tried lies
If it brings you comfort
Who am I to deny
Beads of sweat and of sin
that seep out of your skin
Smudge your thin grinning guise

This thing that you do
don’t make no sense to me
For those you distaste
you get down on your knees
So pathetic and sad
that it pains me to see
watch them march on parade
such a shameful charade
of how you thought it would be

But you’ve changed so much
Watch as your morals corrode
Conscience becomes frayed
Old certainties erode
Ignore all integrity
Whilst convictions get stowed
See you struggle and stumble
A world around you crumbles
As you go down this road

And I watch from my perch
As you stand on the brink
Such a treacherous mindset
Such a lecherous wink
Look upon your chosen
Their hearts hidden in ink
Go be with your own kind
Only one thought on my mind
Poor Boy could use a drink

Trouble

You know you're in trouble when you walk in to a party and it has a yard glass
You know you're in trouble when you're pretty much hammered by 10
you know you're in trouble when you steal a strange persons bottle of whisky and take a hit
you know you're in trouble when you knock on a random door and are forced to ask "is asian looking guy in?"
You know you're in trouble when you end up being the third spoon with a guy and girl on the bed (the girl was in the middle so its ok)
You know you're in trouble when you end up at a burger van at 5 am ordering a "scooby snack" just to see what the hell it is
you know you're in trouble when you get a text in the morn sayin "still alive?"

Still, pretty good night

Love

right well, seems everyones talking about it so i best just grit my teeth and get it over with. Thinking about it, i don't reckon I've ever even heard my dad use the word, so blame him for my poor expressiveness.

I've never told a girl I loved her, for the fairy obvious reason that i've never been in love. Only had uno girlfriend after all. I liked her a hell of a lot, but we only went out for 3 months or so and saw each other only about once a week. Which in retrospect seems like hardly any together time at all, and certainly not enough to know for certain how I felt about her. wasn't heart broken when it ended, just sad for a long time.

My little brother once pretended to be me on my MSN, and told a girl that i loved her. I kinda dismissed it at the time, but turns out it fair affected her. fortunatly that whole episode is long done with and i think we are cool now. the lesson i took from it is that the L word is a dangerous thing indeed that should be regarded with caution and suspicion.

One time a girl accused me of loving some other girl and she must have clocked on to the look on my face because she quickly explained that she meant "Luv" not "Love" which are of course two entirely different things, apparently.

ummm, I kinda regret that I never told a girl when i was a teenager, that i think is when you might feel it the most, what with hormones flying about and all that malarky. Chemicals have mostly settled down now though, and I'm a lot less likely that have something in both my eyes when something dramatic happens. Which is a plus

Probably most guys feel this way, though truth be told the way i feel about things tends to be a fairly fluid and dynamic thing. with lasers attached

thought of the day-I haven;t kissed a girl sober in well over a year (boo bloody hoo says all you people that havn't kissed a girl in well over a year)

The group dynamic

Joe makes smoking cool
I make drinking cool
Catherine makes being a girl cool (probably the most challenging one)
And stewart makes the rest of us look cool by comparison. of course one day he will be cooler than all of us, the reward for all the adviserity he faces (so quit your bitchin)

Also, got a good one off in class the other day. fellow student bangs on how shit the sun newspaper is and how she wouldn't wipe her arse with it. lecturer asks why to which i quip "Cause its not very absorbant" Cue hilarity and laughter, with me being unable to bask in the dim glory due to being RIDICULOUSLY hung over. but theres pretty sound logic for the Sun being not a good paper for absorbancy. Being a tabloid it generally has more pictures than a broadsheet. the pictures use more ink, meaning the paper has already absorbed it, which means that you are far better sticking with a text heavy broadsheet like the Times. And of course wiping your arse with boobs is a good way to develope some very bad fettishes.

Fiction from (apparently) friction man

task-write about yourself from the point of view of an imaginary friend

John looked around the bar and saw Robert spread in the corner, reading the paper. He must have felt his eyes on him because he looked up and gave a nod. He walked on over and sat down next to him. Robert had been doing the Sudoku, and John saw immediately that he had been going wrong. He waited in silence for his friend to discover this, and smiled when a muttered curse told of his discovery.

“I used to be good at those” Robert said, tossing the paper aside.
“Getting old” John replied.
“That I am. You don’t want to know where I’ve been finding grey hairs” He downed the last dregs of his pint. “Drink?”
“It’s my turn to b…”
“Too slow. You’re getting a Fosters unless you say different” Robert got up and took his glass to the bar.

While he waited, John nabbed the paper and browsed. He was midway through the credit crunch, where every face had a monocle and top hat drawn on when Robert returned, drinks in hand. He sat down heavily and spilled some drink on himself. “Bah” he said, scowling. Both pints had straws in them.

John frowned “Been here long?” he asked. His friend looked worst for wear. Well, worster for wearer than normal anyway.
“Nah, just really tired from work is all” Robert replied, yawning for effect. And he really did, wincing as he shifted position.
“Still doing shit shifts?”
Robert shrugged “Fraid so. Thirteen hour one yesterday”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
Another shrug “Yeah, well so’s incest. But every night me and my sister curl up to each other whilst mumsy looks on.”
“You don’t have a sister” John pointed out

Roberts face went strange. The studied indifference changed and softened. The granite cleaved chin went chalky. He spoke softly in reply too “I kinda semi quasi not really do” he said.
There was silence, excused by the fact that there was drinking. It wasn’t awkward but it could have done with some filling. John obliged
“So, how are you anyway? Aside from tired”
“Fair to middling my friend. And you?”
John smiled “Well I had that date that I told you about”
“And?”
“Went pretty good. We seemed to hit it off, all going well. But I was hoping to ask your advice”
“Wear a condom and don’t shout out Steve when you come”
John smiled “I didn’t really mean on a technical front”
Robert laughed “Muah, technical front”

John sighed and looked exasperated. Robert returned the look. “Look, why would you ask me for relationship advice”
“You’ve been on more dates than me” John pointed out.
“Which means I’ve been on more failed dates than you. But fine, shoot” He slurped the rest of his drink through his straw. “You know my fee” he said waving the empty glass at him.

John returned with drinks and began to tell his tale “Well, about halfway through the date, she got this text message. And when she read it, she went all sad and quiet. And I thought it best at the time not to ask what the worry was. But now I’m starting to think I should have asked her. Show concern. I was concerned after all. Is it too late?”

Robert frowned. “It’s a tricky one all right. A conundrum if you will. Plenty of potential for fucking up. Then there’s always the possibility that you’re imagining it. You got a habit of making small things look big” He gestured downwards to Johns crotch.
“Hilarious. A penis joke”
Robert grinned “I’m full of them…wait no…damnit!”
“You’re certainly full of something”
Robert took another drink “Talking shit and boozing. That’s all I’m good at and good for”
“Being hard on yourself don’t you think?”
“There are worst skill sets to have. And anyway, people should be hard on themselves. Only they know themselves. Plus it has the added benefit of causing others to see you in a kinder light. Nothing like nabbing that sympathy vote”

John thought about all of this. Then he came to his sense “That has turd all to do with anything you hairy bastard. Now what do you think about what I told you?”
Robert stroked his three day beard. Finally he said “No bad can come from letting her know you care, even if it’s a touchy subject”
“You think?”
Robert shrugged “Christ knows. Want to do shots?”

Alternative employment

Is something i should start seeking for now. I've not actually quit yet, but everything is in position for a smooth switcheroo. Boss is coming back, someones lined up for an interview and most people have had enough fair warning so it doesn't come as a shocker. Yesterday kinda proved thed need for change, as i spent half of it just annoying people, head butting them and making funny noises. PRODUCTIVE. Ann-Marie even smacked me one, she was getting so sick of it, though i did kinda ask for it

"You wan me tae smack ye tights?"
"What does that even mean!?"
wack.
"OWWWWW"

Good times. For a sexual harrasment case!

Then i made the mistake of reading the paper. turns out theres this thing called a "credit crunch" Now I'm a bit sketchy on the details, but from what I gather it means that i will never ever get a job or have money ever again. And that Wall street will implode in a sea of cigar smoking fat cats in top hats.

If anyone hears of work for a handsome young man that likes to stand around street corners, do tell. I myself have a notion that working in McDonalds will pay off in the long run. think about it, there are quite literary McD's all over the world, so having that on you CV pretty much gives you guaranteed employment on a global scale. which is solid given i hope very much to travel some.

Me and JoJo from worked talked about Alpha males in clubs, with their runty little hanger ons. Which got me thinking if i fall into either category. a kindness would be to say that i'm mainly a lone wolf, doing my own thing, but christ knows if thats true or not. I do spend a great deal of time alone after all, but can be quite the socialiate when booze has been had. ummmm yeah whatever, sounds like the kinda thing not to be dwelled upon


thought of the day-I want to captain an air ship named Icarus 13

The one internet meme...

...to rule them all!

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=h9o5_W6hn9k

whos that bobemon!?

Christ almighty talk about catharsis. Unfortunatly the only way to get out the poison in you is to replace it with another. Hence feeling pretty damn shit and hung over right now. But lets look at the facts. well first me and mine now have a pair of 1st year lackys that worship the ground we walk on, though don't ask me to recall their names. Then their was the free wine and certain people finally making some headway in the billions of drinks they owe. and also empty orchestra! coupled with the x-rated version of greeces summer days. i recived more than a few admiring glances for that performance, the big reciever that I am

People will tell you they can't help how they feel, but they're stupido! Hell there are entire industries based upon the premise of changing how you feel. big big bucks to be made my friends. Now if only my kidneys didn't hurt everything would be just shiney

thought of the day-I quite badly want a Jayne hat to go with my collection

sleep would be nice

The Condom, with his latex cape billowing about him magnificintly, is the protector of penis city. he has a whole rogues gallery of villains-captain chlymidia, master clap and non-water-based-lubriant man. but he also has his allies- diaphram woman and his sidekick, water based lubricant man (he has an evil twin)

"Hows the new suit, Dom? those new ribs should enhanced your abilities by 12%"


This is how sexual education should be taught at schools. all i gots to do is sit back and await government funding

thats one damn ugly mirror i'm looking at

not been a good week for sleep.

but on the plus i learned to play the firefly intro on geetar

and the world keeps turning

huh

thought of the day- I will not be popular this year

what the hell is this man on about?

There are a thousand little ironies presented to you each day, providing you want to see them of course. I'm thinking it a better idea to at least try and ignore them, and chalk it up to an over active imagination brought about by an exceptionally dull summer. And before anyone gets paranoid, i'm just talking shit about life in general. I think a lot of people read into blogs farrrrrr too much.

The future starts soon. And i'm veiwing it with not pessimissm exactly, but a certain degree of caution. What do I want to be in the future? fraid thats still not decided. in fact I get annoyed at people with drive and ambition that know exactly what they want to be when they grow up. I myself have always wanted to try my hand at many things. saying to your guidance teacher at highschool that you want many different jobs may be laughed off and excused as inexperience, but saying the same thing at the end of uni may present a slight problem. a likely outcome is me and my brother will get pissed and stay in all day playing videogames. and when you put it like that it aint exactly the worst of prospects

thought of the day-i should probably stop telling people what exactly it is that I do with detol and sudocrem

the gay

Now i've no idea why, but back home it is the height of hilarity to act gay. But it turns out in the city there really are people that...are gay! my mind was blown and my ass was grabbed. but ole bobs all about the banter, and yesterday i decided it would be "talk wierd and slightly mean to my gay waiter friend day!" He had a hickey as well, which i pulled him up about, calling him "hickeyberry hound" all day-the dirty dog. Then there was the classic

"You only like mayonaise cause your gayyyyyyyyyy!"
"I know!"

or, at the other end of the spectrum

"Your special Rob"
"No, your special man. cause you make others feel special. and thats the most special thing of all"
then i went off to do some heavy lifting ala over compensation

My father would not approve.

Thought of the day-the new phrase to ask if someone is ok shall be "Everything chipper, skipper?"

smooth chin operator

"Gang bangers don't just gang bang. they do many many things. like read the paper. and do the crossword. 8 down, to bang with a group."

Now there is no way that that conversation should result in my getting a girls number. but thats how the cookie crumbles. no doubt cynicism will win the day yet again though

a little side note

Me and ross drank cider and completed halo 3 on legendary. jealous? you should be

cloning yesterday and calling it tommorow

it makes sense i guess, but i did not know that my headphones were labled L & R to show which ear they go in. And upon discovering this, i took pettyness to a new level by putting then in the wrong holes (make of that what you will) By the by, does anyone wear headphones while on the computer for the sole purpose of keeping their ears warm?

I needed cheering up, so i got the new terry pratchette book and power read my way through it. shamed to admit its the first book i've actually finished in bloody ages. And you know, it was pretty good. a cynic might say it was small gods minus everything discworld, but it does the job of telling a story well. Plus the good thing about it not being a discworld is theres none of that constant repition that is inevitable in such a big series. so yeah-got the rob k thumb up and stew your welcome to borrow it

i'm teetering on the edge of a cold right now, staring into the mucussy abyss. will it engulf me in its moist green embrace. i hope not, what with a weekend of doooooooooom on the horrizon. for those not in the know, weekends of doooooooooom are when i work 13 hour shifts on both saturday and sunday-both of which are generally busy, so not many breaks. Exept it can break a man, in a small dull way.

thought of the day-you KNOW your geeky and lame when you figure that tales of the black frieghter DVD extra will be far better than the actual watchmen

see the clouds mock the way of a perfect view to a perfect day

Borders book shop has this nasty habbit of not labling their books with prices. i guess they assume if your in there you must be rich. but annoyingly they also quite often put discount signs on these priceless books. £3.00 off!" it delcares. "what a deal!" I exclaim "And it comes with a free pen!" i then realise it isn't polite to vocalise in !, and rush to buy. "That will be a ridiculous amount of hard earned money despite your work to pay ratio being wayyy off!" says the cashier (everybodys ! today!) "This isn't over!" i exlaim very quietly so no one hears.

then i compromised by buying very cheap shoes. good old sweat shops and war orphans

Also, i had a rather great idea. well more an insurance policy. I gotta go around torturing all the hypotists in the world telling them to undo what they've done to me-JUST IN CASE-that they have done something.

thought of the day-cults are the poor mans religion

things happened in a non sexual sense of the word

Been a pretty heavy week for the boozing i'm afraid (ahhhh!) and a pretty bad one for lack of sleep. I blame steve (grrr steve) Despite this I don;t feel incredibly shit-just pretty shit. unfortunatly mood is not improved one bit by the discovery that a day before its due-fellow work mate announces hes on holiday for a week. sooooooo another bloody 50 hour week for the bob. and i know it aint like me, but i'm getting prettttyyyyyy pissed off. not boring old melancholy, but genuine anger.

i learned stuff. i learned the meaning of whiskey pounding and that viagra merely maintains and that you should never make eye contact with the bride of a hen party. and i talked a great deal of shit and a reasonable amount of sense and tried quite hard to be honest and flat out told some people to shut up.

I'm quite sore and very tired and there was a bit of a disiplinerararary hearing about fish. i need to see some people and i am very grateful for my time alone for all the thoughts it brings. sherry is manky and port is nice and pina colada's are ok but the song is surprisingly amoral

someones talking shite

i could well have bitten off far more than i could chewbaca here. And tiny mouths wait for the crumbs to fall from mine. once they've developed a taste for it they become ravenous, insatiable even. whereas I have my fill and reach my quota in ever diminutive amounts.

And a girl from call centre told me about her sex life 5 mins ago. Anything for a sale

The harsh week of dooooom at work is over. though to be honest it went as well as it could have. and now i have some free time again, to kill online and with TV. so first up, saw a VERY good film, given and recommended by the lovely catherine (thank you) called Closer. dispite initial misgivings about its possible status as chick flick, it quickly proved itself to me. and of course it fit the all important criteria of being quite depressing. and there was also mild nudity!

then there was the immense hangover caused by certain zany misadventures. what i like to do when i'm feeling so, and if the weather is nice, is to sit on buchanan steps and (oh quirky cliche alternative) people watch. now you can't deny that there are some incredibly ass-fetically intresting people in the big smoke, so i think you can understand the attraction. pride of place goes to the two young girls (ohhh pedo!) one who looked rather typical and was reading to one that had downs syndrome (oooh distrubing fettish) Off colour remarks aside, it was a nice image.

Then there was street theatre! or as its also known, preachy christians! they were doing that scene were jesus goes "let he who is without sin, cast the 1st stone" And then an intresting theological point was made-jesus being jesus-was in fact the one without sin and so could have cast the first stone. and then gone on a stone killing spree!

Then of course one of them comes for some one on one time with the bob. and she says the thing that quite a lot of the various religious crew says to me "you have kind eyes" HA, always smile wryly when they say that-if only they knew.

You shouldn't think i'm wailing on the christians here. a while back one made a VERY good case to me that i was quite willing to concede to. she said that when we feel good about doing good and guilty about bad shit, then thats god working though us. if you want to call your concience god then thats fine by me. the buddah says we are all a little god to ourselves

thought of the day-one day i will count up all my quirks, and then try and match them to the tv shows i stole them from