Kneejerk

Age is just a number

2011-07-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

A very important number that with the kind of accuracy of normal distribution can predict the spending patterns, life expectancy, political views and all sorts of other things that make us unique. For reasons like this it's as important when you come from as where you come from.

I come from the time of Bosco on afternoon TV sitting beside a fire because oil or gas heating wasn't invented or we were too poor. I hate that obnoxious little red-haired fuck. I hate the fact that the word "uafásach" is burned into my brain. I hate that while I can't consciously remember the theme tune, hearing it brings me back to that cold room and two channels of television.

Most of all I've hated the suggestion that a gift you made yourself was somehow better than one you bought ie the one made by professionals. Bosco is responsible for parents receiving poorly painted shit instead of gifts for decades. Inside that puppet was someone giving us all the middle finger.

I've been militant in this belief for years, until now. For this little arts and crafts session you'll need
1. A belt
2. A plastic bottle
3. A paper towel holder
4. A shitload of duct tape
5. Knife/scissors

Mangle these together and you have the perfect gift for a parent, a partner or even just a stranger who needs a little pick me up

An impromptu strap-on.

NARTH

2011-07-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

In my proud history of bothering people I have been shot down on occasion and I respect those who do this more than the weak assed fucks who just apologise. I even respect it when they are the misguided, bigoted fucks from NARTH. Just cos you're wrong doesn't mean you can't sometimes score a win. What follows is my email to NARTH followed by their rather curt reply. Not even a signature.

For this email I adopted the character of Rodney J. McCoy. The "J" stands for Jamie.

Dear Sir,

I have read extensively your fine website and am grateful for the wealth of free information that you have provided for people in need of your help. I have however come up short in a search for an answer to my question.

This is a bit awkward to explain. I own three dogs, two sheepdogs and a rottweiler, all male. I was walking my land with a friend of mine when my rottweiler wandered over to one of the sheepdogs. ordinarily the sheepdog growls a reproach but on this day the dog looked high strung and squared up to the rottweiler. I was curious to see what would happen next and did not interfere, much to my shame, at this point the sheepdog mounted the rottweiler. I moved in instantly to put a stop to this and delivered such a sound thrashing that I hoped this was the end to it. I separated the dogs and tied them for the night.

The next day a friend brought by his pitbull terrier and I observed this dog and the rottweiler rough housing in the way they have done all along. I was content that the previous day's incident was behind us. When next I looked around the rottweiler had mounted the pitbull terrier.

I realise that this situation is outside your remit but I imagine that you have members who may have encountered the same problem. I'm worried that I might have dealt with this wrong and casued the second incident, did I? Have I corrupted my dog? Is there anyone who can help me recondition him? If I can't should I put him to sleep?

Yours Sincerely,

RJ McCoy

And the reply,
They're dogs, its completely normal, in fact it has more to do with dominance than it has to do with sexuality.

So next time your dog starts fucking another dog, don't worry he's not going to hell.

Never buy a weapon from someone who isn't crazy

2011-07-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

Rational thought, reasonable analysis of your actions, the ability to calmly sift through the bullshit and scaremongering and make decisions based on all this seem like they are desirable in every walk of life. I will however point out that if you are seeking to buy a weapon, you want it made by someone who is batshit insane.

The more they believe that the end is coming the finer an instrument of death and destruction they will make. If they genuinely think that their sword will be needed in equal measure to defend your home from intruders and dragons the surer you can be that the sword will stand up to the mythical sword fighting intruder.

In this vein I give you Lynn C Thompson.

Lynn C Thompson is one such gloriously insane man. He is the founder and president of Cold Steel one of the better knife makers out there. He is passionate about his knives and I salute him but the inescapable truth is that he is mental and as an aside always slightly off balance - observe:

There are a wealth of other even more mentally and physically unbalanced videos on YouTube and I hope you get a chance to browse through them. Far from criticising Mr Thompson, I thank him for his commitment to quality and the fine products I enjoy.

What follows are a series of emails to Cold Steel and the replies I have received. For the record I did not use my email account or my name.

Dear Sir,

I have recently received two of your fine hand and a half polypropolene training swords and several of your throwing knives. I am very impressed with the quality durability of said products. After vigorous training with the polypropolene they are still unmarked and hundreds of throws with the throwing knives they are unharmed. If I could make one complaint, the cold steel RPG thrower has made kindling of my throwing target. Not a bad complaint.

My query regards planned product lines, I am anxious to get a zweihander - and hope that you might consider making a polypropolene training version of this. May I ask what other lines you plan on introducing?

Yours in combat,
Conan

A reply:
Thank you for your suggestion. I have passed this email on to our R&D department.

Our plate is very full for new products coming up, but they do look at all suggestions. If it is an item that will become part of our line, R&D will release that information when it is ready for production.

Again, thanks for your suggestion and your enthusiasm for Cold Steel.

Anthony Russell

Customer Service

And again
Dear ColdSteel,

You may remember that I recently purchased two of your hand and a half training swords. I have enjoyed training with these as much as I beleive possible, bruises and all. The swords have held up remarkably well with any minor scuffs rubbing out easily.

Following this positive experience I have ordered a set of your no doubt fine gladii (all from knifecentre.com - a truly fine stockist of your products). This purchase has raised several questions and suggestions in my mind and I wonder if you might help me with them

1. With a gladius I wonder if you might suggest to your R&D department that they make a polypropylene shield (a scutum) to accompany the gladius. When shield shopping one only comes across display pieces and the type of product suitable only for re-enactments not the serious training that I engage in.

2. As I mentioned before I also purchased several of your throwing knives and an rpg. Though long hours of practice the edges and points have become dulled and I am seeking your advice on blade care and sharpening. When searching on the internet I am met with any number of implements from stones to steels to straps and oils of various viscosity and qualities. I would like to know what ColdSteel recommend for your fine edged products.

Yours in combat,
Conan

Oops
Dear ColdSteel,

Pursuant to my previous email where I asked about the sharpening of your fine edged products I would like to withdraw my question. In my enthusiasm for the pursuit of martial knowledge I overlooked the comprehensive information provided by your FAQ. This has answered all my questions and even some I did not know I had. Once again I am in your debt.

My question about the scutum remains. I look forward to hearing from you in due course.

Yours in Combat,
Conan

Finally we see the real Anthony Russell
Thank you for your inquiry and the follow-up email.

As for Cold Steel producing shields, I can tell you that our R&D department has been looking into several different types of shields for mass production. Where they are in their research is unknown. R&D does not usually release information until a project is ready for production.

I will, however, pass this email along to the R&D department for review.

Anthony Russell

Customer Service

It continues,
Dear Cold Steel,

I yesterday received my gladii. They are excellent. This email is taking longer to type than normal as I think I may have broken my sword arm-hand! I will probably get an x-ray tomorow. I in no way hold you responsible for this.

I have attached a picture in which you can see that I have improvised a scutum. Please feel free to pass this on to the R&D department if you think it may hurry their efforts to produce a working version.

Yours in Combat,
Conan

A beautiful institution

2011-07-18T16:37:00.001-07:00

Weddings always fill me with a certain joy and wonder. Also an unparalleled terror. Not the terror of commitment, the interminable nature of it all, I can handle that. I think I could do prison time. Of all things I love routine and predictability the most. Marriage is a lot like prison but the nicest parts of prison, not the random assaults and misuse of drugs unless your knee has bent in front of the wrong person.

What scares me about marriage is the idea that I might have to give my family the opportunity make speeches in a very public forum. A forum which I will have paid no small amount of money to organise and bring literally everybody whose opinion matters to me. I'm talking cold sweat terror at that idea.

The notion that I might also become emotional and possibly shed a tear in front of all these people does nothing for my commitment to the institution of marriage. I can't help but feel that it would come crashing down on me, at my lowest, that I am the architect of these misfortunes. All of this overshadowing what I'm led to believe should be a happy day.

All of this is very different to the short sharp, soon to be over and forgotten nature of a prison assault. This is more like a prison rape. With long lasting mental consequences. The side of prison I most likely wouldn't like, actually definitely wouldn't like. For the record I definitely would not like to get raped in prison but I definitely wouldn't like to let my family make speeches.

By contrast, living in sin seems much easier.

Work related ennui

2011-03-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

We don't have any natural predators. Nothing wants to kill us. Disease doesn't stalk the land. The biggest worries that people have at the moment are the price of oil, mortgage repayments and the looming spectre of unemployment. Not that these aren't valid, I'm just pointing out that compared to the concerns of someone in a war torn African country they are less important to the health of the organism - Us.

I deal with people at their very worst. You don't meet me on your good days when nothing has gone wrong. I don't see you when you've managed something clever that you will regale your friends with. I see you at your worst. Hair messed up. Dried blood. Wallet or handbag missing and for some reason containing the documents you need to travel tomorrow. I regret that at times because it leads me to the possibly false belief that people are stupid. That our collective good might be served by thinning out the numbers and the introduction of a few natural predators.

The result of this is that I feel the person who took the bag that was left unattended in the bar for upwards of 45 minutes is not stealing, merely levying a tax on the foolish. The careless need to be taught a lesson. In the absence of real peril then we need these people, these tax collectors.

I feel differently about the person who knocks over an old lady or ties her up in her house as they ransack it. I don't know where the line is but I regard them differently. This line between criminal and somewhat irregular public servant.

I hate people who get "assaulted" even more. The number of people who just get assaulted is very low. In my experience it seems to be when a roving gang of youths encounter someone different and weak. If you're different you can't be weak, some of the blame has to fall on you if you are. For the most part then getting into fights and assaulted is a culmination of poor selection of location, your sobriety, your group of friends, the very real chance that you're an ass and deserve it and several other factors all of which you have the chance to change. What I'm getting at is don't come running to me, I have no sympathy for you.

Tandem Felix

2011-01-15T14:20:00.000-08:00

Ever hear that old joke? Waiter is called to a hotel room to deliver yet another bottle of champagne. He walks in and surveys the scene. Sprawled on the bed along with several beautiful naked women is George Best. The waiter ponders for a second and asks, "George, where did it all go wrong?". In the extended version of that story I imagine a drunk and enraged George Best struck the waiter violently and returned to the orgy.

That was then and this is now. George Best's career fluttered and died and so did he. Conversely Charlie Sheen achieved early on the dizzying heights that most can only dream of and is now reaping the rewards. He's been in era defining movies and in terms of awards is only shy the Oscar which truth be told he'd probably have to speak in an impeded English accent to get. He's one of the highest paid TV actors around. The dude has done it all.

People condemning his behaviour, his drugs, his parties, his porn stars, etc are all just jealous. Let the man reap his rewards.

Capri Anderson
Bree Olson
Bombshell McGee
Ginger Lynn
Heather Hunter

This is not an exhaustive list of women in the porn industry who have been romantically (traditional notions of romance are here challenged) linked to Charlie Sheen, to say nothing of the many, many hangers on and less famous but equally eager friends. If the Internet is to be believed then some of these women came in pairs or even trios.

There are many things that would heighten my enjoyment of a sexual situation, better technique, improved flexibility, a clearer understanding of what's going on but above all of this would have to rank better looking partners who bring their friends. I'd like that.

As for the drugs, I bet Charlie gets that special coke that's smuggled in boxes and not up some guy's ass. Movie star grade cocaine. He's got an clinic of doctors and a team of problem solvers to pick up the pieces after him. He is the poster boy of people who should be allowed do drugs.

One of the wealthy who could fit in so easily if only he conformed. He's a man with a purpose standing against an oppressive regime, defying convention and sleeping with some ladies along the way. I don't want to say that he's this generation's Oskar Schindler but he's damn close.

He's a flawed hero but a hero I can get behind. A man unafraid to sacrifice himself on the altar of celebrity and to live and publicise the life I can only dream of. God bless you Charlie Sheen.

An annual tradition

2010-12-30T10:16:00.000-08:00

This year had the usual challenges, family, cabin fever etc mixed in with me being just a little sick and thus more irritable. New challenges made themselves known, fewer movies that I recognised were on tv. The last shreds of Christmas spirit are intrinsically tied to seeing the Back to the Future trilogy but it wasn't on. Indiana Jones was but the only thing that Indiana Jones can't save is my Christmas cheer. The kids are taking over with their pixar animated things. My nostalgia is being upgraded for theirs.

I got no presents this year. Not a bad thing, I dread getting stuck in one of those adult relationships where exchanging presents of approximately the same value is how you express your affection. The thing is that when selecting a gift I'm held to a budget and I don't know as much about this stuff as the person I'm buying for. How then could I be expected to pick up the right gift? I'll go for the cheaper one in the shinier box. I'll give you that and now that you have one of these that isn't good enough you're denied the pleasure of buying yourself the right one. I've ruined this gift and your chance of getting yourself something decent. It's supposed to be the thought that counts but in most cases that thought is "this'll do right? and it's cheaper than that other one". My brother got gifts from his girlfriend's parents and his little face sank. Poor bastard never saw it coming.

New Year's is just around the corner now. I've come to hate New Year's. I've touched on why I hate going out. The forced joviality, the way each night is a little like Groundhog Day. New Year's is the worst of these. It even has its own timetable built in. Everybody is expected to be out and celebrating. The pressure is really something. Then the night falls and worse than any other night out places are packed, people are drunker, taxis are harder to get, and someone gets glassed because the pressure has to escape somehow.

I'll be working. Cleaning up this fucking mess, invariably with people wanting me to smile in photos. "go on smile for the photo" translates as "pretend you're happy". Then when I gently try to slip away and not get into the hand shaking and pleasantry exchanging at midnight I'm the kill joy. I ruined the fantasy that this night was different and special and that this coming year will be better. I'll care about less of the Christmas films next year

I started this and thought it would be angrier

2010-11-26T06:31:00.000-08:00

I sometimes think I'm striving for consistency. It'd be the nice thing that people would say about me when it eventually happens - If nothing else, he was consistent. When I get up in my head like that is when I decide not to get a Facebook account.

I appreciate that from an entertainment perspective it probably kills a few hours and my life is sufficiently empty to see that as an appealing point. I just don't like that it is the cowards' way of ignoring people. You don't have to give a fuck about someone on Facebook. You just see their status updates and commit the nugget of information to the back of your mind in the off chance that you meet them on public transport and can't get away. Suddenly you bust out whatever you last read and you have a ready made conversation. An empty uncomfortable conversation where you both ignore the fact that you're not friends anymore. You either regret it because this situation is of your own making, through your laziness or because you never really had anything in common and this is a cringing reminder. I've let people down and I don't need Facebook to try to convince me I haven't.

So, it's not commitment to a friendship or anything of the sort. It's commitment to social niceties that are not in line with my true feelings. Like an office Christmas party. All year long I haven't gone out with the people I work with because that group is comprised of two smaller but distinct groups - people I genuinely like and enjoy talking to and wankers. The regular work night out has both present and so too will the Christmas party. So since I haven't gone out all year long, it stands to reason that I dread this. Deep down, in the pit of my stomach. All I can rely on is that there will be some kind of argument and division that will at least amuse me in the coming weeks, because one of the less nice things people will say about me is that I am a gossipy bitch.

I'll be there for you in ways you can't imagine

2010-11-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

I had my iPod on and was walking the lonely streets. The occasional drunk stumbled by, and I saw them glance sideways as they caught a few bars of a song I was gently singing. More precisely it wasn't singing so much as tonelessly repeating the words as the song went on heedless of my butchery.

As the drunks grew fewer, my nerve stronger and the songs louder. A bawdy shanty or a classic ballad. Between me and the darkness it was just entertainment. That was until the song choice and the nearby events coincided beautifully.

The couple walked down the street, leaning into each other as much for balance as affection. Moving close to light one cigarette off the other. It looked perfect, yet as I started singing along it all changed. The meander stopped. They faced each other. With arms open at waist level. Hips slightly back and heads forward. I couldn't hear what they were saying (earphones in and singing) but it looked like I was singing the right song.

They left as they had arrived, walking, but there was a difference. I don't know that I helped. It does nothing for the tale whether I did or not.

Musings from a lonely vantage point

2010-10-27T06:35:00.001-07:00

The reason tattoos are so intimidating to people is that it indicates that the wearer has pretty poor reasoning skills. They can't see the consequences of their actions. Live for the moment and the instant gratification. Without seeing and weighing those consequences they are subject to a set of expectations different to yours. They care less about what prison life will be like, not even considering that possibility but completely wrapped up in what your blood will taste like.

I don't like my hair. At all. It doesn't look like how I think it should based on running my hands through it. The physical equivalent of hearing your voice recorded and realising you sound like a total conceited prick. I don't like my voice either, but where I'm stuck with that the barber media machine repeatedly convinces me that I can make my hair better. I can't. I know that now.

My brothers are in any given situation completely fucking useless. One will wait until I have toiled and admitted defeat before telling me what I should have done and how he knows a guy who has a job-o-matic-doer 5000 who could have done that in 2 minutes. The other is useless in a much more classical way. Faced with a choice I prefer the classical approach.

I don't like bars and nightclubs. I approached one girl and politely told her that she looked like a young Dr. Beverly Crusher. I meant of course a youthful looking Dr Crusher as re-imagined from her attractive self in the later episodes not the early episodes where she looked a little like Wesley Crushers 'aul one. Long story short, we never reached that level of conversation because it appears I have fundamentally different interests to the nightclub set.

Having stood at the end of the Dublin Marathon I can tell you that not one of the runners looked triumphant or godly. They looked in pain. They looked emaciated. The sweat had caked on their faces to leave a light white crusting and they needed a little sit down and maybe medical attention. In the absence of facts or any reputable organisation willing to undertake the study I'm going to just make an assumption and put it out there - Marathon running on balance over a 20 year period is worse that smoking. For some reason though people will treat you like you're Neil Armstrong just after delivering the first baby on the Moon for doing that to yourself. I don't get it. If self harm is what people are into I'll cut myself a little the next night we're all out.

A smokin' hot lady and a man in control of his hair

Sometimes I prefer to just be left alone

2010-10-07T10:17:00.000-07:00

I can't find a suitable analogy to get this across. I see people protesting and I just don't believe in it. I do like the slogans and the occasionally catchy chants. Especially the ones where there are too many or too few syllables and the chant just races through it obliviously.

I suppose some people have reached the same conclusion and instead of going home and quietly masturbating or something, they decide to take it a step further. This is where hunger strikers come from. A realization that slogans and chants alone will not change the world and the belief, the false belief, that anyone gives a fuck if they live or die.

Protesters as a group are a boring lot. Probably not when they're at home and with friends but definitely when they're protesting. They're so on message, all the time. Just talk, talk, talk about the cause. The fact that they are protesting at all should inform them that up to this nobody cared.

The hunger strikers want to make them care. They want people to care about the boring cause because they, a white person who may well live nearby and almost certainly supports the same football team as some people are skipping a few meals. Fuck hunger strikers. It's petulant.

Like a child, they'll stop this very slow exercise in self harm if only you give in to their demands. A very adult tantrum. Before this goes any further I'll point out I don't care for nationalists at all, but that's not the point.

Assuming 100% commitment, which I never do, this should be seen as on a par with setting yourself on fire. It's not. Those guys get taken in for mental examination and kept in a secure facility. Just 'cos they've got more balls and commitment than a pussy hunger striker. It all goes to show that the authorities don't really believe in them either. We think they're full of shit. Figuratively, not literally because they haven't eaten in a while.

What are the rules for hunger striking? You're allowed water. Any essential salts? What about a coke? It's not eating... fuck that, there's no pissing about when you set yourself on fire, or stand in front of a tank. I've had stomach bugs that lasted longer than some hunger strikes.

Dublin Bikes

2010-09-01T07:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to bore you with facts and figures or try to prove my point. In the fine tradition of tabloid journalism I'll just say stuff and maybe fire off an email to Joe Duffy or something.

A while ago, Dublin City Bikes started operating. I predicted that most of them would end up in the Liffey at the hands of Dublin's finest. To prove me wrong this has allegedly gone on to be the most successful scheme of its sort in Europe. Fuck you Dublin City Bikes.

What concerns me is that with a rise in cyclists using these bikes, using them by and large without helmets there must be at least some rise in road traffic accidents involving these cyclists. It would be practically impossible for there not to be. This hasn't been publicly discussed. Hasn't even been mentioned. We have no idea how may new hospital admissions are down to these bikes. How many families are fatherless? How many people will never make it to the office....

The why of this is because everybody loves the idea of it. Like recycling which isn't powered by the beauty of clouds, which uses bleaches and energy and requires massive volumes of water or Hybrid cars which are purpose built to destroy the environment, as long as an idea is palatable enough we'll ignore any facts that may exist. I'm not saying they do, this isn't that type of blog.

On the other side of the coin, Head Shops and the Psychoactive Substances Act and all that shit was rushed through the legislative process without concern for these pesky facts or peoples' rights to ingest whatever the fuck they like (with certain provisos that should be accepted). It's not facism or anything like it. People just accept the nice pretty things like more bikes and would prefer to get rid of the junkie exercising his rights by being out of his bin at 2 in the afternoon and swaying gently on O'Connell St.

Fuck you Dublin Bikes.

Sacrifices must be made

2010-09-01T07:01:00.000-07:00

I had to use my emotions the other day. Or more correctly pretend I had some and pretend to empathise with someone. The alternative was probably an official complaint, it was on a knife edge. I hate feeling like a whore after I say something meaningless like "time heals all wounds" or "the important thing is that you do what's right for you and your health". Really? Fuck, I just hope they didn't see the disingenuous smirk.

I'm not trying to pretend to be Patrick Bateman or anyone requiring police supervision before he claims another victim, I just think most people are pussies. Suck it up. It's not that bad. If you look at it from my point of view anyway.

I acutely feel all the old dinosaur emotions. Anger, jealousy, lust and if any of the other seven sins are emotions, them too. Higher order, complicated emotions don't come easily to me. Even when I think I feel them, I'm quickly proved wrong by my own impatience.

It's this that holds me back. This that has convinced me that in the event of a crisis the least useful thing a person can do for you is to empathise. A cup of water would be more helpful, fist aid skills are helpful, great bloody vengeance is helpful but empathy is not. So having to choke on this and mouth platitudes to fucking idiots complaining about nothing at all is tiresome.

Nobody cares about your iPhone.

By way of analogy

2010-08-14T23:08:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in our childhood years someone managed to convince us that being a grown up was something to aspire to. Much like in Inception, this idea took hold and grew into something that it was never meant to be, something untrue.

Somehow being an adult and having bigger toys wasn't good enough, we had to act responsibly. This became an end in itself, the joy was to come from the feeling of being older and mature and not from being old enough to get away with the stuff that kids find fun.

Think of it in terms of wine and coke. Wine is horrible, some people have forced themselves to drink it. Some more odious people to have and offer opinions on it, but at it's heart it tastes horrible. I'm sure if I had taken the time to check the wikipedia entry on wine it would in the first paragraph mention that it's disgusting.

Coke on the other hand is awesome. It's sweet and it bubbles. Whatever that chemically constructed vegetable extract flavour is it's delicious. Ice cold on a warm day - nothing better. What really brings out the flavour of a white fish meal with a light dressing? Coke! Why? 'cos it's fucking fantastic.

Now as children we knew this, but during the growing up mindfuck some of you started drinking wine. Shame on you. If you wanted to get drunk, just make some special coke with your choice of special ingredient which won't ruin that lovely coke flavour.

The same is true of conversation and sex. Somewhere in there, slipped in with the idea that wine is nice and coke is for children they told us that a healthy relationship relied on conversation and mutual respect at its heart. As a child I knew that getting what I wanted when I wanted was the important thing.

Not talking. Especially not about my feelings. I have no feelings. At least none that I want to talk about. If ever I have an issue I want to verbalise I can tell my dog.

The way you've been treated?

2010-08-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

I'd love you to believe that I'd been quietly considering what to say. How to sum up what has transpired in one elegant blogpost. Giving credit where credit is due. Admitting my own faults. Striving to seek a balance and atone for all that keeps me awake at night. Fuck that. I've had no internet.

Careful consideration and the unconditional support of my peers has convinced me I was completely in the right. No question of it. They should make me a saint or name a cathedral after me or something. Maybe a statue in the city centre.

So what have I learned from this fiasco?

1. Trying to build a relationship with a man who has "Everything Fades" tattooed on his arm is maybe not the most realistic thing to do.

2. While the allure of women and whispered nothings is undeniable, Nerf and beer is fucking awesome.

3. While I previously tried to reconcile the wisdom of sitcoms with the idea of reasonable female actions I can now conclude that women are batshit crazy given the right trigger. In this case the right trigger was me.

4. While saying "chillax" to some people will rile them up, saying "after the way I've been treated the past couple of weeks?" is my flash-phrase. I think it unlikely the average junkie accidentally happening on that one.

5. In bygone days ending a relationship via text message seemed rude or uncaring. I disagree. The depth of emotion could be seen by the indiscriminate use of umlauts.

6. Better now than after what would have been a picnic seething with repressed emotions.

7. That cats have more in common with snakes than they do with dogs.

This may seem like very little to have taken from the relationship. Biographers may someday debate the importance of this, but to date my life has yielded one original life lesson. That is, if you have a blocked nose and no tissue paper do not blow your nose while in a public restroom, you have no idea what might be there.

Double standards

2010-06-27T06:39:00.000-07:00

So lately I've been thinking alot about relationships, what they mean, how they are defined and all the big questions.

When stuff like this starts piling up inside the only thing you can do is think "what would Swayze do?".

In Dirty Dancing Swayze begins a relationship with Jennifer Grey. Swayze is serious as is Grey. Swayze is a little older and Grey's father, Jerry Orbach is against it.

Does Swayze sit him down and reason it out? Does he explain the depth of his feelings? Point out that he Swayze was born on 18/08/52 and Grey was born on 26/03/60 and compare that to Orbach who born on 20/10/35 and his wife Kelly Bishop 28/02/44. Does he point out the similar age difference?

No. He just fucking dances. When reason and even violence fail us, just fucking dance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJO_zQTDhb8

Maybe that's what Lady Gaga was talking about.

We're all disposable

2010-05-05T05:52:00.000-07:00

I love the book and film of The Princess Bride and I enjoy the soundtrack too. It's filled with pithy observations and messages. The two that spring instantly to my mind are "true love never dies" and "Life is pain, Highness". There's also a discussion about fairness in the film as Grandfather Columbo explains to Grandchild Kevin from the Wonder Years that life is not fair. A conversation that more grandfathers should have with grandchildren. It's cruel to let them figure that out on their own.

Back on track, I lost my book or gave it to someone and they haven't given it back. So I bought another copy. I got this second hand on Amazon. They have various companies that have old library books or second hand bookshops etc. Good value.

When I got the book I looked at the inside cover and read the handwriting:

Hmmm - a fairystory?
Not the most obvious choice... but
it's funny and wonderful, and
you won't be able to put it down.
Enjoy!
Happy 26th. With Love,
Jen xx

There is no explanation of how this book came to me that isn't filled with sadness and ultimately reminds me that we are all disposable and replaceable.

Vinny the Racist

2010-04-29T16:39:00.000-07:00

Vinny is a racist. Not a nice racist like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino or Ed Norton (eventually) in American History X, Vinny is a despicable old man who is a racist.

I first met Vinny the Racist one day in work. I was strolling around and being bored I said hi and thought to exchange pleasantries, the way one does. Vinny the Racist instantly seized on the opportunity to explain to me the problems with and caused by the Blacks. At length.

I was a little flustered. I went in prepared for mild introductory pleasantries and got this. Not that I have a weak constitution for such things. When someone is screaming this drunk on a street corner I'm prepared but by contrast it's brought up in our first polite conversation.... I worry. I worry that like two people who fall in love at first sight he has seen the totality of my existence in that one glance and thought to himself that here is a kindred spirit. Another man filled with hate. Race Hate, cos Vinny the Racist is a racist.

Vinny is a short old man, still working so I assume under 65. He's a little fat which is staving off the wrinkles somewhat. He has brilliant white hair (white as a newly flowing Klan robe) which only serves to highlight how red his face gets when he talks about foreigners and how they are like a cancerous blight on Ireland. I believe he suggested putting them on a boat with a small hole in it. So that it would sink slowly. Presumably to allow them to fully realise what absolute bastards they are for being foreign. Bright, bright red (red as the robe of the Red Hooded Klansman - Kleagle?). I worry sometimes that Vinny the Racist will have a stroke if he gets too worked up over all of those foreign bastards robbing from the state. Keeping you and me out of a job (despite talking to me while we were both in work).

Vinny the Racist works in a job (not the same as my job) that requires him to talk to tourists, Vinny the Racist hates tourists, because they are foreign and too stupid to speak English. So he ignores them or gives them false directions. Presumably in the hopes that they will become lost and get set upon and die slowly knowing that he, Vinny the Racist, was responsible.

I cheered up considerably when I heard that Vinny the Racist was just as horribly racist around everyone else. So far from seeing in me a fire that mirrored his own, he's just a delusional racist. He 's old and those of us who have been well brought up don't hassle the elderly. Vinny the Racist through this loophole of manners has arrived at the point where he thinks the world shares his racist beliefs. That we are on the crest of a wave, about to break across his sacred and racially pure island home and wash it clean. Vinny the Racist is deluded.

I got speaking to Vinny the Racist's colleagues today. I don't know if any of them agree with Vinny the Racist (I doubt it), but at the very least they had the social common sense to decry Vinny the Racist. They told me all the tales. Like the day Vinny the Racist couldn't have tea because the two coffee shops he could go to in work both had a foreign girl on the till. He hates foreigners enough to give up tea.

One of his colleagues (a man of advancing years) is married to a young Asian woman (I asked no questions and heard no lies), they have two young children. These children are the apple of this man's eye. Vinny the Racist to his face, in conversation, with witnesses, referred to the children as “halfbreeds”. I'm not sure of the exact hierarchy of racist slurs but I suppose it ranks above abomination and below half caste? Maybe Vinny the Racist can explain.

There were explanations put forth as to why Vinny the Racist is a racist. One was that he was banned from a pub he once frequented after he offered one of the Polish barmaids money in return for sexual favours, but this was countered with the argument that Vinny the Racist has always been a racist. This seemed to be an isolated incident where he attempted to connect with someone, a thing he fails to do because HE IS A HUGE FUCKING RACIST.

Then, while not connected directly to his racism, there was the story of him being spotted being forcefully ejected from a lapdancing club on Dublin's Capel st. Vinny the Racist is obviously a racist who can't keep his hands to himself.

The plan is for one of the new guys to approach Vinny the Racist. The new guy will pretend not to know that Vinny the Racist is a racist. He will explain the following:
- that he is seeing a woman of colour;
- that she has several children already and yet another of his on the way;
- that she is not working because the dole, the children's allowance and all the other benefits the taxpayer covers is keeping her in fine style;
- that he will not move in with her, because if he does she will lose her free flat provided by the taxpayer;
- that the free flat is just up the road from Vinny the Racist.

The hope is that Vinny the Racist's big red angry face will finally explode.

It should be noted that Vinny the Racist's name has not been changed to protect his identity.

I can always rely on myself to let me down

2010-04-18T16:07:00.000-07:00

Maybe it follows the natural progression of things, maybe it doesn't. At some point you may wish to introduce your girlfriend to your parents.

This caused me to fret. I think it's usual or at least not unusual to worry about people meeting your parents. They say crazy things that I've long since stopped thinking are funny. They tell stories with at best a loose adherence to the truth featuring you as the main character. Unique to me maybe, they shout at your friends?

Then there's home. I can find my way around in the dark, I know where the light switches are and I don't walk into walls or doors. On the downside I also see every little flaw.

A day spent scrubbing the place and an hour spent gently explaining to my family that maybe they should just smile and nod.... and I was ready as I was going to be. It looked cleaner, but it still isn't clean. I'd spoken to them but fuck knows how that was going to go. A little ball of terror sat in my stomach.

Breath held. Everything was going swimmingly. The one complaint/concern/bump in the road was not their fault, it was Fred. Fred is a 500ml blue plastic water bottle, he is one third full of liquid and fungus or bacteria or both. Years ago, a Men's Health article said I could make a more effective sports drink by adding some salt to a mix of orange juice and water. I did just that, brought it to the gym and drank two thirds of it. I left it in my bag for a while and then there it was, the start of a fungus growth. Did I create this life?

Fred was left sitting on my shelf where the orange separated from the water. Floated to the top. Sank to the bottom. All the while supporting life. In my humble opinion it looks dead. Sitting at the bottom, devoid of nutrients and with no further activity but she hates Fred. She's a scientist and disagrees. She colourfully described him as "death in a bottle".

Anthropomorphising just a little, I've known Fred longer than many of my close friends. He's not much of a conversationalist but that's hardly enough of a reason to get rid of him. That didn't seem to be a reasonable explanation.

Let them know men did this

2010-04-04T03:50:00.000-07:00

I like to get to the cinema when a film comes out first, it stops me having too many preconceived notions (apart from what I've gleaned from the trailers, but that's sort of different). I don't want to go in and have heard that a film is crap when the reviewer just missed the point or has no appreciation of pointless action. With mindset, I went to see Clash of the Titans. If like me you prefer to go in clearheaded don't read on.

Clash of the Titans is pretty shit. I wasn't expecting much by way of plot or anything. It's a remake of what at the time was a special effects masterpiece. So I just wanted cool 3D explosions and a believable Medusa. I was upset.

The special effects were poor in comparison to other movies pushing that envelope. Whenever the Pegasus wasn't flying it looked like they had made some wings from black bin bags and stuck them on a bewildered horse. The Cracken looked like they had made it in a rush out of black plasticine, which seems like the whole point of this endeavour was to avoid that comparison.

Sam Worthington irritates me.

Liam Neeson seems to have taken the death of his wife pretty hard and is just making any film that you hand him a script for. I'd like to stand by him in this hard time but Zeus looked like he was supporting Gary Glitter back in the glory days of shiny suited rock. He couldn't even walk in his suit of armour, an entirely unnecessary suit of armour given that he was sitting in Olympus and a suit of armour he left at home every time he visited Earth. The character Zeus is an asshole too. One of his previous enemies, Zeus pretty much just date raped his wife. Harsh even by today's standards. I understand that Greek gods were flawed and from a theological perspective this avoided the question "if god is so powerful, why does he let so much suffering happen?". If a Greek asked this question the short answer is - 'cos he's a petty, vindictive, tool lording it over us. Not comforting but easier to accept as a doctrine. Choose your poison I suppose.

Ralph Fiennes plays Hades. He looks like a paedophile. That's why the people hate and fear him. They think he'll touch their children.

Gemma Arterton plays Io. I missed this for most of the movie but she's the love interest. It's just sort of tacked on at the end. She sort of dies, but Zeus being the fickle bastard that he is magics her back to life. So happy ending. In the absence of well executed special effects the director opts to change her hair around a little in each shot and get her to wear a pointless fluffy cape.

Mads Mikkelson. I'm sure someone will say he's a great actor not concerned with the star game and that following on from Casino Royale he threw himself back into his great passion - musical theatre or some shit like that. I don't care. He's tall thin and not believable as a warrior type. Aside from that he did point out that since Perseus wasn't using his magical gifts from the clearly bi-polar Zeus all his men were dying. Perseus ignored this, citing the honour of mankind, until he nearly died and then forgot his honour. Yay, magic sword. So for this one observation and Mads' cheeky smile he's my favourite thing about this movie.

IMDB tells me there were a lot of other named characters but this was a bad movie that jumped between a couple of stories and managed to alienate all of the stories from me so I can't remember.

I assume that if a girl will
1. agree to go see this with you and
2. agree to go out with you again.... that's a good sign.

Everything Fades

2010-03-25T12:24:00.001-07:00

I think smoking looks cool, just for an instant. Especially if you can deliver a killer line while smoking and maybe even blow a smoke circle. Fucking awesome. Anyone who disagrees with me is obviously a filthy fucking liar, but that's just in the instant. Living for the moment, the reality stretched out past the cool line and the smoke circle is kids with asthma from second hand smoke, a respirator for you and a death not worthy of the hero you were trying to be with the, in hindsight, shitty smoke circle. Plus you taste like cigarettes and if that was a nice taste they'd probably put it in chocolates or crisps but it's not.

Tattoos are just as fucking stupid and just as awesomely cool. They are essentially a scar you opted for. Not because you were taking a bullet for the president but cos you thought a butterfly and a fairy playing together was cool.

I have a scar on my arm from when I tried to wrestle a knife away from my younger brother, this was only two years ago. I have a scar on my leg from trying to point a stick and pushing real hard against a knot in the wood. It slipped and cut nice and deep into my leg. The scar from when I was a child and pissed off that pack of dogs has all but gone. Like my tattoos, they all mark a place and time in my life. Regardless of motivation, whether it's the saccharine sweet shit on Miami Ink about remembering fallen loved ones or cos eagles rock superhard it'll remind you in ten years time of that one day.

My modest collection of tattoos is, in order:
a dragon on my right shoulder blade;
the word Cliché on my left shoulder (conceived moments after the dragon was finished);
and just the other day - the words Everything Fades on my right inner arm.

None of it has any meaning, just shit I thought was interesting at the time. I sometimes wish I had the gall to say it had deeper meaning, but I'm pretty fucking shallow.

------------

So on Tuesday I went into the local tattoo shop in the village. Ostensibly I was in the village looking for orange juice and happened to wander in. I got talking to the guy there because as you might imagine in a small town they have little business and are happy to talk to anyone.

I mentioned I had been thinking of getting some text on my arm, namely Everything Fades and we started looking at fonts. The dude really wanted to Latino it up but I politely declined. I settled on one but the "v" looked like a "b" and details like that worry me. So we started trying to doctor the "v", ultimately chopping the tail off of a "y" to make what I think is the perfect "v". I smiled, just a little.

All that agreed. The dude asked did I want to do it now. Since I was already there I figured why not. I got a bit worried when he slammed three cans of red bull but his hands seemed steady enough after this, so why not? 45 minutes later and I was permanently scarred.

People keep asking what it means, I think they want me to say it's a melancholic reflection on my own mortality and in particular my soon to be fading youth. Fuck that.

An uncertain mood

2010-03-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

When I die the thing I'll regret the most is that I didn't sleep more. This is at least in part down to the fact that chief among my pleasures is waking up and realising I have another 5 hours in bed, but mainly down to the fact that I'll probably die in a car crash because I drifted off to sleep.

This will piss me off. Mostly because I doubt anyone else will bother to appreciate the irony, the headlines won't read “slothful man actually killed by work”, and that's a tragedy. If it's The Sun or The Mirror I fear for how the headline may read, “rest in peace, sleepy man”? If I weren't so tired I'd pluck up the energy to spin in my grave.

I spent a month arsing about and it was glorious. My brain working in a way that only a truly rested mind can work realised what it was to enjoy my day. I fucking hate work. Not my job too much but that I have to go in and do things that I do not find immediately gratifying. Frequently the only gratifying part of these things is that when I'm finished it is the longest time before I'll have to do them again. Conditioned as we are, all through our lives this doesn't seem strange and unnatural until you've had a period to readjust.

This may be how cults get started, they get you to stay for a month and then when you go back and your days aren't filled with questionably legal sex and definitely illegal drug use you start to realise that the world we've built is not a Utopia, it's just kinda functional. Kinda functional, putting food on the table and paying the bills, I appreciate the nobility of it all but I'm so fucking tired all I can think is to stay in bed and hope that the world just joins in and the species comes to a dignified end.

Some stories should be told

2010-03-03T04:13:00.000-08:00

So, I've mentioned that the idea of the new Karate Kid movie upsets me. In the same breath I also mentioned that I loved the original. Yesterday I watched all three in a row. Then fell asleep contemplating the lessons it had taught me.

A remake is unnecessary, as unnecessary as rewriting the bible. If anything the idea of a new kid facing challenges while dealing with a new romance in his life was adequately rehashed in Never Back Down. A much better idea than the Smith boy and Jackie Chan ruining a film I hold dear.

That seems rigid, like I don't want the studios to have a revenue stream but you're ignoring the other opportunities. This came to me last night as I pondered the words of Miyagi – a prequel.

We're given enough of a hint of Miyagi's life for us to know it was glorious and terrible all at once, from the wife he lost to his medal of valour. The matter of honour that forced him to leave his village, I'd like to see the young Sato. That movie would rock. Teacher seen in the role of student as his father imparts his knowledge of the Miyagi family Karate to him and he learns the life lessons he'll eventually teach a young Daniel. There's a new Miyagi trilogy there already.

If we got Matt Damon on board and wanted to do something on American foreign policy and the horror of war I'd watch a movie about a young Kreese and Silver in Vietnam. It'd have to have an 18's cert though, that story has some very adult themes.

Now everytime Hollywood tries to do a prequel we end up with all the main characters' paths crossing long before they should have met and the original story being damaged by it. I hate coincidental meetings years before that everyone seems to have missed or some shared ancestry bullshit (Fuck Caprica). This seems almost impossible though, if we set it before World War 2 (which Spielberg is going to make sexy again) then neither Kreese or Daniel are born. Short of some idiot writing in Kreese's father as a racist sergeant in the movie we're golden.

So now that I have had this idea, who do I write to? The internet campaign starts here, someone set up a Facebook page or whatever it is you do nowadays instead of being useful.

The continuing adventures of Angel Jones

2010-02-25T04:53:00.000-08:00

Everything is on a sliding scale, and despite my incessant moaning I'm probably on the good side of middle in most things. Those charming Trocaire ads really remind me that my job isn't that bad and I do enjoy eating. In terms of a love life it could be worse, bottom of the scale is Farah Swaleh Noor and somewhere near the top is Hugh Hefner. I'm neither and that's just fine. This all leads into me explaining that a while ago I decided that I'd give Internet dating a go.

To preempt speculation, this did not go as planned. Not to say it didn't go well, but certainly this is not what Match.com advertise. There was one date and that ended shortly after a sudden onset stomach bug and me getting sick on my shoes and trousers. I made my excuses and left. I suppose I should have explained the reason to the young lady but it wasn't going well in the first place.

My other adventure in the realm of Internet dating, and what this blog concerns is the following tale - it's lengthy but there are pictures.

So, I received the following email:

I have just gone through your profile and liked it. I would really love to get to know you better if that's okay with you of course. Life is too short for any one to just sit around with out making new friends and cherishing good ones where ever they maybe. Believe me if there is any one who should know this, its me i got into this site in search of a gold heart i never i can tell if it you,The beauty of someones inner heart is what really count in the real sense of a relationship ?I will surely uphold our relationship if you are sincere with me .

Well, I hope to hear back from u then we can get to know each other better. I am a woman that has principle and good qualities to offer to my friend,who so ever or my desired love I am loyal ,diligent ,loving and caring ,social ,trust worthy ,honest ,truthful,hard working , good and smart looking ,friendly ,kind , well mannered,well behaved,action oriented,goal oriented and in my leisure time i love jogging , dancing ,reading , traveling , internet ,swimming .

I will like to know more about you ,Your marital status, age,occupation and so on, my private address is jonesangel2009 //at//yahoo///dot////com/// or jonesangel2009 ///at //live//dot //com

I will be waiting for your reply.
Angel

Being the trusting sap that I am I responded and got a reply and then another, but then being trusting and reaching the conclusion that this person had a serious learning disability I stopped. Enter my accomplice, who for the sake of his anonymity I shall call Nick. Nick being less trusting and obviously having Internet interests outside of porn spotted this as a scam email. So we set up an email address for one Dennis "Denny" Crane and said hello. We received exactly the same reply as I got! Oh my wounded ego.

What follows is the conversation we entered into. Our aims in a broad sense were to waste the time of these presumably Nigerian scam artists and hopefully get them to send us something. Anything.

Hi,

I was really glad to hear from you. I'm glad you liked my profile.

I couldn't find your profile, have you found someone? I liked your email, it sounds like you have a good heart. You have seen my picture but now I'd like to see one of you if you don't mind. I'm not hung up on looks but I like to picture who I'm talking to.

Where are you from? I live in Ashfield in Meath. Are you close?

I'm single, I just haven't found the right person. I own my own company, it's not much but I'm building on it, I make farm equipment. I'm 31.

I hope I didn't wait too long to respond, I look forward to hearing from you.

Dennis (Denny)

Reply with pictures, I'd love to know who this girl is

Hello there,
How are you doing there today? hope all is well with you there. Thanks alot for your lovely message, you sound sweet to me, i think you are a nice man but i would love to know more about you if you don't mind. I want to know what makes you, i want to know what you are doing there for a living and much about your family and what you are looking for here as well.
Here is little about me, get back to me with some more information about you and with your picture as well, i want to see more of you and to know you better.
I'm Angelina by name but you can call me Angel, I am single since i had caught my Fiancee red handed in my room sleeping with my best friend..but i have erased there path from my heart we took to meet in life,i am 25 years old by age, I'm from Queensland Ipswich in Australia but im presently in Nigeria now to buy African arts for resale in Australia, that's what am in to for a living

I`m 5`7" 120 with a athletic build , mentally stable, physically fit, a bunch of laughs, warm, caring, honest, good listening, God Fearing, and a positive person.I am real easy person to talk to and a good listener. I enjoy chilling with my friends/family I like going to the movies , or watching movies in my room ,I am a family oriented person and There is more, but it would be better for you to find some things out for yourself..
what do u like in a lady ?,what do u do for fun and in your free time?,do u have kids ?,tell me about yourself ? Where are you from?
I care xoxoxoxo
Angel

Hello,

I am very well. I really enjoyed getting your email. I'm sorry it took so long to write back but I've been busy with work. Working for myself is tough, but I like it.

I live on my own except for some weekends when I mind my son, his name is Mason. Like you I have had bad experiences in the past. Despite that I still keep an open mind and that is why I emailed you back.

I was happy to hear that you liked family and believed in God. So many people lack these basic values. When you ask what I am looking for, that is it. I also liked your pictures.

Your job sounds very interesting, please tell me about it. What sort of African arts do you sell in Australia? Did you go to college for this job?

I don't get much free time but when I do I like to spend it with family and friends.

Write back soon,
Dennis
xxx

I think it might be love

Hi Dear,

Thank you so much for getting back in touch with me as it actually made my day!!!, you sound like all i want, you are my perfect match . I am really going to put a lot of effort into writing this letter to you in hopes it will provide you with a good understanding of who I am, what I am all about, and what has made me the person I am today.

The reason I am going to write a letter rather than just send a message is because I am serious about wanting to establish a quality friendship with you, and because of the fact I rarely contact anyone on here, so when I do you can be rest assured I am serious about my intentions.
Am looking for a man that will be able to listen to me, communicate his feelings to me ,make me laugh,hold and comfort me in need,stand by my side, respect me, passionate lover in every way, support me in every way, love me and only me, make me smile, protect me when needed, romantic time to time ,constantly reactive, and treat me right.... I know you will think what is a pretty lady like me doing on here ..

Yes the reason I came on to the internet to find the special person who deserves all the love and passion that makes up my heart and soul is because I do not have the time to meet others out in a public setting, and the fact I feel you can learn so much about someone through letters, as a person has to take there time and think about the words they want to express, so it allows you to gain a better understanding of someone than you would probably otherwise. As for your question I do Buy wood craft which are very attractive

The very reason I am interested in establishing a friendship with you is because I feel I have alot to offer you in the way of a friendship and I know I have alot to share with you that will be of interest to you and even some things that will surprise you if you can be mine alone. I am very much a woman of substance and I am very unique in todays society because I live my life through my spirituality and through the word of God and because I have such a strong understanding of what I feel my role in life is suppose to be. I am a woman of integrity and my word is my honor!.

I have very high standards for myself and my life is all about providing love, peace and happiness to others.For you to get a better understanding of me, picture a waterfall in your mind and instead of all the water overflowing it is all the love and passion I have in my heart to give to others who are deserving,as the love and passion has an endless flow coming out of my heart. Where others write many people and keep there messages short because they are all about how many they can write, I am the opposite and very selective in whom I choose to write and I like to give them my very best even if it is in a long letter such as this.

I know the type of person who I want to build a friendship with so I am willing to put the time and effort in my messages to show that to you. I care

Angel

We're delighted

Hi Sweetie,

Thank you so much for your letter. It's great that you took the time to write such a personal email. I'm glad you liked my email, I was very surprised by your reply. I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner, I've been very busy with work. I hope you don't see this as a sign that I'm not interested.

I've never met someone from Australia before, what's life like there? How long have you been living in Africa? What's it like there? Are there many other Australians with you or are you alone? I'd like to visit africa someday, but I hear it can be dangerous for foreigners.

Looking forward to hearing from you again,
Denny
xxx

So is she

How are you and work,hope all is well with you ?It's my very great pleasure to hear from you back,its really make my days with the lovely message you sent to me and i like the way you feel about me thank you my dear.I've been in several rapports where I was not fully appreciated.In fact,many times I felt I was taken advantage of and that hurts me so much.I'm the only child of my parent.
My Parents died in an auto accident while traveling to visit their parents in state some years ago.I must tell you my dear,I have sorrow in my mind when i see kids having fun with there parents.Well life must go on.
I have been into 4 serious long relationships and those are also my only serious partners I have ever had. 2 of my relationships ended because of my partners betrayal and infidelity (cheating) and the other 2 ended because the love was not there to grow they are all about my inheritance i told them and knew all am talking about.So i had to let them go on there way of life to cheat others on there properties. well Denny am the only one here in Nigeria okay and i did lodge in a hotel here And very soon i will be back home and i wish i can meet you in persos probably see what might happen between us
I would say that I'm not afraid to display my emotions. I'd like someone who is sensitive and caring.If I'm sad, I'd like for him to be able to comfort me and cheer me up. He doesn't has to do much,but just knowing that he's there solacing me is more than good enough.
Have you ever had someone not stand up for you? I was deeply hurt when someone I once knew wouldn't not stand up for me, even after he told me he loved me.I would never allow someone to hurt my boyfriend or my husband, and I would always stand up for him. One thing I will always do for my man is to protect him when needed.
Well,i cant wait to hear from you soonest.Hope you are thinking about me?
Hope to hear from you soonest.
I care ............
Angel

I like Collies and I veer dangerously close to giving the game away

Hi dear,

I'm so sorry that it takes me so long to email you back, I'm very busy with work and spending time with Mason. I just don't get a minute to myself.

I have had one really serious relationship, we were very much in love and we have a beautiful child but it all ended very badly. I still can't really understand where it all went wrong. I'm just very happy that I have Mason, of all the bad things that have happened to me he is a shining light. I know that you said you feel bad when you see kids having fun with their parents but could you see yourself caring for another person's child. Any woman that I become involved with has to love Mason.

I'm really sorry to hear about your parents but you just have to keep hoping that tomorrow is a brighter day. I can't believe that someone would betray you for an inheritance.

I feel like we're only talking about the big things and I'm not really getting to know you. What type of music do you like? Australian bands or is the music in Nigeria good? I really like Shakira. Do you like Shakira? What's your favourite song? What food do you like? You must like something strange with all the travelling you've done.

I would protect you. A collie is an Irish dog that is very loyal, I've been told I'm as loyal as a collie.

xxx
Denny

Luckily disaster strikes and they probably didn't know what a collie was

Honey,
Thank you for the mail and quick respond i know we don't get to see each other but i believe in all what u wrote to me since all this day .. i have faith in God ,that i see who am talking to one day by Gods grace that day was supposed to be today...but in destiny such is life and life goes on...i am ashamed to bring this up but i tried my best to get myself out of it but no luck ... Am having a problem here with my container of art works i bought here at port authority,....I went to the shipping agent i gave it to this morning...and i found out all my container has been seized by Nigeria customs at the (THE NIGERIA PORT AUTHORITY) . they want me to pay some tax for it .. and custom duty ... i don't have such money they requested for at the moment ... i don't want anything do happen to my container, because it worth large amount of money,and i believe by the time i get it export to the clients in Zurich i will get paid,i have used all my money to buy the art works i'm only left with the money to eat here in the hotel nothing more, baby i really need your assistance . i don't know if you can lend some money till i get home, i'll pay you back as soon as my clients get the container delivered to them,...I really want to settle this in time ,so that i will not miss my flight which has already been scheduled but now i will have to reschedule my flight and i can also change my flight to come and meet you so that we can both start a new life i want you to know that i'm not after your money all i need is a good man that will love and care for me a man to start a new relationship and new life with and i'm so happy since the day i met you i feel i have find my soulmate the man of my life... i am really ashamed to write this letter....because i didn't want to ask for anything from you concerning monetary terms...I want you to know that money is not love all i needed is your love...so help me do not loose faith and hope in me...and i can tell you, this is the bad day i never i had in my life .... i don't know how u feel when you read this....I swear on my parents grave not to let you down in anyway and i promise i will pay u back my dear as soon as my goods get to client for resale ! i don't know what you will say .I am just ashamed !!!!!!!
i hope to talk to you soon
Angelina Cares

We want to help, but we have problems

Angel,
I was very surprised by your message. I hope your problems aren't too bad. I though you had a nice inheritance, where did it all go? I would love to be able to help you, but I only have €20,000 in the bank. I don't know if that would be enough to help you out of your problem. If I did give it to you I would need it back very quickly as all of my money is invested in my company and I need to see it grow. How would I be able to help? What do you need from me? I hope I can trust you in this, but obviously I would like to hear more from you before we exchanged any money. The money is mine, but unfortunalty I have business partners who wouldn't let me give money to 'strangers'. Is there anyway we could show my brother that we are not strangers? If he doesn't co-sign the release then it would take at least two months to release the money from my account. When is your flight scheduled? I hope you haven't missed it already.

Please get back to me as soon as possible.

Love,

Denny.

P.s, you are a very beautiful girl. Do you have any more pictures of yourself that I can add to my dreams?

It becomes clear

Honey All my inheritance as been turn to money i mean i sold everything and i have used all the money on my business and now am not happy with the situation happening to my Goods which is bothering me a lot Honey...And the amount i was asked to pay is 5,000pounds and i dont have that for now
Honey Help me out
I LOVE YOU
Thanxx for your reply xoxoxoxo

We are not bright, and she loves us in spite of that

Is it £5000 English pounds? We don't use English money in Ireland, we use euro. How can I send you the money? I'm trying to speak to my brother about it. He is sceptical about our relationship. I showed him the photos of you, he thinks you are very beautiful too. Is there a time limit on the customs charges? Is two months too long?

Thank you for the new photo, I love seeing as much of you as possible.

Love
Denny

Jibberish?

Honey I realy apprecaite your brother view about me that am beautiful my regards to him (THANKS BROTHER).I'm eager to see you My Denny.And tell him not to be skeptical about our relationship I swear i will return the money and tell him to please help me out Okay Honey
Honey the amount is in English pounds okay you can do the exchange to euro as i don't really how much it will be in euro,And why don't you western union money transfer all what you will need is my name and the address to send it to
I was alert this morning that the money must be paid this week which makes me now to be afraid that anything might happen to my goods if i don't get to pay it
Am sad about this news Honey
I really need to pay it in time
How was your day like?,I was thinking of you all day ? What did you do today ?and are you okay? what did you ate as dinner ?
I love and care for you so much Honey
Trust me I love you with all my heart you have showed me caring and honesty and that all what i need from a man
I will never leave you
You own my heart
Muah Kiss to you
Love you
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dilemma

I'm having a lot of trouble convincing Frasier. I'm so embarrased. I'll e-mail you tonight or tomorrow, as soon as we can come to an arrangement. I'm so sorry. I hope I haven't let you down.

Love,

Denny

Enter Frasier Crane, smarter brother of Denny

Hi Angelina,

You don't know me but I'm Frasier, your boyfriend's brother. I got your email address from his account. He is trying to convince me to send you £5000. I'm
not a doctor but I think Denny is a bit simple. Why would a beautiful woman like you be interested in my simple brother? I've met Australian girls like you before and I think you'll just take his money and break his simple heart. Please don't tell him I sent you this email.

Obviously I can't just let him send you the money because I've never met you. However, we might be able to reach a business agreement. I don't know if you know but there has recently been an increase in the number of Nigerian farmers living and working in Ireland. Myself and Denny have a small business selling farm equipment and we have a marketing budget of €10,000 that we need to spend before June. We are interested in marketing our products to Nigerian businessmen. Have you ever seen any traditional Nigerian artwork or woodcuttings of tractors or farm machinery? If we had something like that to give as gifts to customers I think we could make a lot of sales.

As I said please don't tell Denny about this email.

Yours faithfully,

Fraiser.

Quick to assuage our fears

Well Frasier you are embarassing me please and please am not like anybody am alone on my own okay I do love Him with all my heart God Knows I do
OK
tHANKS

At least she doesn't tell Denny about Frasier but this mail disturbs me

Good Nite My love there is so much I want to tell you, a lot has been running through my head lately. I'm having trouble putting my thoughts into words so you will have to bare with me through this.And i did wait till this time may be you will email me back

I keep thinking about the future, about life, and what I want out of it. I keep thinking about us and what this relationship means to me. I keep thinking about these things and I realize they go hand in hand. This relationship is my future; it's what I want out of life. I want to grow old with you. I want to experience this crazy love forever and ever, and I really think I'm going to get to. I want us to walk through new houses picking the one that would be just right for us. I want to see you walk around our house in a big t-shirt with . I want you to pull the covers off me at night and then I have to get even closer, if it's possible, to you to keep warm. I want to see you laugh like crazy at me when I do stupid stuff. I want to rub lotion all over your body because you laid out in the sun too long. I want to have a child with you and go through the experiences of parenthood with you. I want to see you and me chasing our little kid around the house, all three of us laughing our heads off and having fun. I want to hold you when you cry and smile with you when you smile. I want to fall asleep every night with you in my arms. I want you to fall asleep on my chest listening to the beat of my heart and know it beats for you I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. I want to see your bad morning hair; I think it will be so cute. I want to sit on the beach with you and watch the sun set, and I want all the people who pass us to envy the love that we obviously have for each other.

I want to see you walk down that isle and I want to take your hand for the rest of my life. I want to spend all night, and maybe the next day, making love to you with an undying passion . I want to cook a meal with you and us totally ruin it and end up doing take out. I want to sit there talking to you for hours about nothing at all but in the same time everything or maybe we won't talk at all and just grin at each other realizing how lucky we are. I want you to get mad at me for doing something stupid, and I want you to bust out laughing when you try to yell at me. I want to lay with you in front of a fireplace and keep the heat going long after the fire goes out. I want to take trips with you to places we've never been and experience them together. I want us to go skinny-dipping in a hotel pool and get caught and streak back to our hotel room waking everyone up because we're laughing so hard. I want us to go and pick out the hot tub we want with the biggest grins on our faces the whole time. I want the sales rep to get embarrassed when we sit in them and make sure we have enough room to do the things we want to do. I want to hold your hand and let you scream at me while you bring our child into this world. I want our friends to come over and get totally jealous because they don't share a love like we do. I want to be walking into a store with you and trip and fall on my face and turn around to see you rolling on the ground laughing at me. I want us to run outside in the rain and act like total kids getting completely soaked, and when we come back in stripping down to nothing as we stumble into the bedroom, or the kitchen counter, or the balcony, or the dining room table, or an office desk, or the shower, which ever one we feel like at the time.

I want it to take your breath away every time I say,I love you because you know it's coming from the heart. I want us to be sitting there and watching our child take their first steps from my arms into yours. I want us to sit down with a box of strawberries, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a thing of mint chocolate ice cream; well, I'll let your imagination finish that one. I want to love you and be with you for at least forever if not a little longer. I couldn't really express in words what I'm feeling right now so I decided to share with you some of the images and thoughts that have been running through my head.

I just want you to know that I had never found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with until I met you. I really am crazy about you, everything about you
This is the Address you will need to send the money below to via western union there my love and make sure you send it via western union and after you send the money you will be given a receipt,On the receipt there is a number called the MTCN number which is 10 digits that's is the number i will need to get the money here Honey

Name...Angelina Jones
Country ..Nigeria
City...Abeokuta
State..Ogun
Zip Code ..23439
question... what is my name
Answer .... Angel
xxxxxxx
Love you always

Impatient

Honey what happened,I thought you will have emailed me by now...whats happening to you Honey Okay?I miss you so much..And what have you been up to?
Love you
Angel

We have a plan to help

Angel,

I know I miss you so much. I'm really embarrassed by all this, I spoke to Frasier and explained that I needed to send you the money immediately but he says that it's for the business and unless I'm spending it on the business then he won't sign the withdrawal slip at the bank! We had a big fight, I haven't spoken to him since. He says you're too beautiful to love me. I showed him your emails and tried to tell him that you really do love me but he just laughed at me.

I showed him your picture too, I'm so ashamed of myself. I thought that since we need models for our company and that since you are so beautiful that we could help each other. He agrees, if you could take pictures of yourself beside farm machinery or sitting on old tractors we could pay you a modelling fee. That'd make it for the business. Frasier wouldn't be able to say no then. I'm so ashamed to have to come and ask you this. Please write back.

All my love,
Denny

So close to losing it

Denny My love i think i will say am sorry for all the embarrassment okay ..I think you should not bother to help me again as your brother didnt trust me..I dont know what to do now ..am down ..all what i have my hope is going now that means i will start a new life i did invest all my money on this business Honey
What can I do since your brother didnt allow you to help me and he didn't trust me either
I love you Denny
And I will always do
Love you

But greed is a powerful aphrodisiac

Honey am sorry to say this what did he mean by (take pictures of yourself beside farm machinery or sitting on old tractors we could pay you a modelling fee) did he thinks am a model or what
well Honey i hate this okay

Honey is there not a way you can help me by yourself

This is probably my favourite reply

Hi Angel,

I'm so sorry about Frasier's antics. He just won't release the money. If you can possiblely wait for two months then I could get the money for you without his permission. Two months isn't two long is it? Could you write a letter to the Nigerian Customs explaining the situation? I would be happy to be a witness for you. I hope I'm not dissappointing you. I'm so looking forward to the day we can finally meet. Your pictures keep me warm at night. Is there anything else I can do? I don't want to lose you so soon.

About the pictures. Yes, he thought you were so beautiful that you could be a model. We are building our website at the moment and we want to take some pictures of a beautiful girl with tractors and farm machinery. (I have included one picture in my email. We don't know this girl, I found the image on the web so we can't use it on our site. But that is the type of pictures we are talking about. Obviously there would be no nudity, we are honest God fearing people.) Unfortunatly here in Ireland most of the girls are not very beautiful. At least, they are not as beautiful as you or as the girl in the picture. We have only one model at the moment, but she is typical Irish with red hair and unnatractive pale skin. I have also included a picture of her for you to see. As you can see you are much more beautiful than her. We pay her €5000 per shoot, but for you it would be €10,000. Of course if you are not interested in modelling I'm sorry to insult you, but you are very beautiful.

What will you do if you can't get your goods back from customs? How long will they hold them for? After that what will happen? Will they be destroyed? Would it be possible to send the goods to me Ireland instead? I hope you will still be able to come to Ireland after this, no matter how it all works out.

Always thinking of you,

Denny.

Not to be

Honey Well I really appreciate your thinking and all what you have done to help me out.. If you want me to come there with goods why not but for me to wait here till two months you will have to help me with hotel bills and i will tell the Nigerian port authority to give more two months for the goods and I hope you will be able to help me on the hotel bills for the two months okay which i will ask the hotel manger how much it will cost me to stay here for two months okay but i gues it should not be more that 1000pounds and above okay
I will like you to mail me back asap

Love you Denny

Obstacles to love, eh?

Angle,

I think this could work out great for both of us. If you're alone in a strange country waiting in a hotel for two months I could come to Nigeria and spend the time with you. Would that be okay with you? I would love to spend some time with you in Africa! I can't believe this oppertuinity. What city are you living in? Are you staying in a nice hotel? If I came to Africa I would like us to stay in the a very nice hotel together. Could you find us a double room in a nice hotel in your city? Would two beds be better for you until we got to know each other better. If you could book us into a hotel and send me the online reciept then I will be able to pay you back when I arrive. Because of Frasier, I can only pay you back in cash at the moment. Is it a nice city? What is the nearest airport. I've just looked at a map, Nigeria is a very big country!

I hope you are as excited by this idea as I am,

Love you,

Denny.

Ps, maybe we can take some photos together ;) :)

More obstacles

Honey I cant book it online as the payment here will expire by next week and I will need you to help me to pay the money so we could stay here together..Honey the hotel is nice and am in Gateway Hotel Abeokuta Ogun state Nigeria Honey.. the hotel manager said i will need to pay in cash... Honey we will share a room together okay but i did ask him for the two months he said its 1,988 English pounds Honey
So will u send it so i will be able to pay before Monday Honey?
Love you Denny
Angel

We're worried. The link is bogey but our concern is not.

Hi Honey,

It's nice to talk to you live! I've been looking for the Gateway hotel website okay honey, but I can't seem to find a website. Are you sure you got the name of the hotel right? There is one picture of a gateway hotel online, but it looks like a school, or maybe it is closed down okay? Also I did a seach for the hotel and I found a result that an English man was killed there. http://allafrica.com/stories/201042050571.html. Are you sure it's a safe place for you? I think it's very strange that the hotel only takes cash okay. Are you sure that the manager isn't trying to trick you out of the cash honey? Do you have a Hilton or other big international hotel company there? I think that would be better for both of us.

You forgot to answer my other questions honey. I'm trying to find a cheap flight to Nigeria for myself okay, but I need to know where is the nearest airport. Can you meet me at the airport. Is it safe there? Do people usually carry guns? Should I buy one?

I found a really cheap flight to Lagos international airport. Could you meet me there?

Please reply asap

My sole forever,

Denny

She must be terrified

Honey the hotel is okay but when are you coming i must pay the hotel bill before you
are here or do you want me to be sent out of the hotel room before you are here ?
Lagos is the nearest airport okay which i can come and meet you there and i will like to know when will you send the money for the hotel okay
I dont want my things to be sent out okay
And the hotel manager is not trying to get moey out from me okay
when will you send it Honey ?
Love you
Denny
Angel

Just to fuck with them

I know it's crazy right now but I just wanted to say Happy Valentine's day.

Love you Angel
Denny

In my imagination I see a group of confused scammers sitting around a computer swearing

Honey Please dont let the hotel manager send me out I need to pay the hotel bill this week
Will you send the money this week
Happy Valentine to you too I wish am with you

We have a solution though, romantics that we are

Angel my love,

I have a very big surprise for you. I think you will be very happy. I'll tell you soon.

Yours forever,

Denny

Poor confused scammers

Whats that Honey
Tell me
I miss you
How was your day like?
Love you

Our solution, complete with fake online receipt

I'm coming to see you! Can you believe it! I'm so excited, I can't wait. How excited are you? Of course I will also book us a fantastic hotel. Can you still pick me up in Lagos? I don't mind if you can't because it's such a surprise! I'll be bringing cash with me so I can pay for everything when I arrive. I can't wait.

Mail me back asap,

Love you,
Denny

Booking Confirmation
Booking Reference: 23TFG5
Your Journey This is a ticketless flight.
You will be sent an Itinerary and Receipt email confirming your flight details and fare information.

This Itinerary and Receipt email will constitute your "passenger ticket".

You are required to present the following at check-in:

* Passengers travelling to or from the United States must present your email at check-in.
* For passengers travelling to all other destinations, your booking reference and a valid form of ID will be sufficient.
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Flight Details
Flight Info. Departing Arriving Fare
AER LINGUS KL3512

Lagos
06:00 20 Feb 2010 Amsterdam
08:40 20 Feb 2010 LowFare
KLM KL0587
non-stop Amsterdam
11:50 20 Feb 2010
18:40 20 Feb 2010 LowFare
Passenger Details
Passenger Name Outbound Return
Checked Bag Extra Weight Checked Bag Extra Weight
Angelina Jones
1 0kg 1 0kg
Fare Information Prices are shown in Euro
Passengers Fare p.p. Taxes & Charges Cost p.p. Total
1 Adult 892.64
included
79.85
892.64
Handling Fee 10.00 10.00
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TOTAL EUR 932.64
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Happy but still there are problems

Am Happy Honey but I will be set out of the hotel tommoroew
No where to go

A solution but don't forget your passport

Hi Honey,

I have solved all our problems okay. Since you're being sent out of your hotel I booked us into a hotel in Lagos okay. We can stay for two weeks and then go back to sort out your problem with customs. You can check in without me tomorrow and I'll arrive at the weekend. All you need is this email printed out and your PASSPORT. Don't forget it okay :) . I never asked you before, but are you a smoker, I got us a non smoking room honey, I hope thats okay.

I think I've done a lot for you today, can you do something for me honey? Do you have a webcam? Could you record me a video massage to warm the cockles of my heart until I see you. It would really keep my heart moist until we finally met. If you can't do that I would love to see some more pictures. Sexy ones if possible. I'm so excited about seeing you.

So far this has cost me a lot of money, obviously I'm not telling Frasier exactly what is happening, but I should be able to have the cash with me when I finally see you. Do you have any pictures of your art? I would love to see what we are spending our money on honey.
Booking confirmation
Thank you for your booking
Booking.com booking number 154.188.252
Pincode 1985
This booking is confirmed on Monday, February 15, 2010
Your name Dennis Crane
Your email denniscrane1979@hotmail.com

You will need valid passports confirming identification to check in. This confirmation is all you need! It contains all details of your booking.

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Your booking
Hotel Information
Hotel Victoria Island Crown Plaza Hotel
Address 292b Ajose Adeogun Street
Victoria Island
Lagos
Nigeria
Phone 234(0)12719800
Fax
234(0)12719810
E-mail booking@vcphotel.com
Travel information For directions please visit our website
Your reservation details
Arrival Tuesday, February 16, 2010, check-in after 14:00
Departure Tuesday, March 1, 2010, check-out before 12:00
Quantity 1 room
2 persons
Total costs $1700.00
Room 1 - Executive Twin Room (Advance Purchase) - Non Refundable
Room description
These rooms have Egyptian linen, bathrobes and free internet access. There is a Sony music system with MP3 connection, and in-room dining.
Guest name
Dennis Crane
Angelina Jones

for 2 persons (non-smoking preference)
Breakfast:

* Breakfast costs $10.00 per person.
* Dinner costs $30.00 per person.

Taxes:

* 17.5 % VAT is included.
* Service charge is not applicable.
* City/tourist tax is not applicable.

Cancellation cost:

* $100

This reservation can not be canceled free of charge.
Total costs of this room

$ 1700.00
How to cancel or change your booking

These are general hotel policies. As they may vary per room type; please also check the room description.
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* The total price of the reservation will be charged on the day of booking and is non-refundable.

Cancellation policy

* Please note, if cancelled or modified, the total price of the reservation will be charged.

Children and extra bed policy

* All children under 12 years stay free of charge when using existing bedding.
* There is no capacity for extra beds in the room.
* Maximum capacity of babycots in a room is 1.

Guest parking

* Private parking is possible at a location nearby and costs $ 17.00 per day.
* Private parking is possible on site (reservation is needed) and costs $ 17.00 per day.

Internet

* Wireless internet is available in the entire hotel and is free of charge.

Pets

* Pets are not allowed.

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You have now confirmed and guaranteed your booking by credit card. This is for guarantee purposes only.
All payment is to be made during your stay at the hotel.
The hotel reserves the right to pre-authorise credit cards prior to arrival.
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At this stage we've lost it. Gone forever is our love but I make one last ditch effort to get them to collect us at the airport.

Hi Honey,

I rang the hotel but they said that you hadn't checked in. Are you okay?

Have you found somewhere else to stay?

I've been so busy getting ready to go to Nigeria that I haven't had time to email you. I'm sorry.

I thought you might not have a computer at the hotel so I bought you a laptop, it's pink I hope you like it.

Can you collect me at the airport? My flight gets in at 18:40. Then we can go get your things from customs, I'll have the money with me.

Please let me know that you're collecting me. I'm hope you're not angry.

My love always and forever,
Denny

There are several spelling mistakes in our emails, this is entirely intentional. My favourite being "sole" instead of "soul". Ultimately this reads as a failure but I think everyone should have a Nigerian scam artist penpal.

I suppose the real message here is that love is fleeting and as much as we hope that we can remove the terms and conditions of our lives from the contract of our continued love we can't. Maybe geography, our careers and our ability to pay for things count too much.

Good Taste

2010-02-13T17:00:00.000-08:00

Genocide, torture, extraordinary rendition all happen every day, it's sobering stuff. We're all aware on some level that this is happening but it probably doesn't make you a monster to not be out campaigning about it now, right now. But how you react when you see it, face to face is a defining characteristic.

I reckon with far more frequency than any of those things listed above gay guys masturbating also happens. It's not on the same level, even if I believed in the risen lord jesus and his holy church I probably couldn't rise to put what is essentially healthy exercise on the same level as anything in the first paragraph. My tacit approval aside, I think coming face to face with it, being inescapably aware is also a character defining moment.

To rewind slightly, the internet is a many splendoured thing. There is a website called chatroulette.com, it allows you to flick randomly between all of their online users and at least in theory - chat, via webcam or text.

It is very much of our time, cheap thrills and no moral centre with the predominant drive being instant gratification. It's mostly guys flicking through looking for girls or some interesting set piece to pass a few seconds. This led, almost like destiny to myself and my accomplice staging a piece.

The piece involved him in a mask with a knife and various gruesome scenes of my murder to entertain the impatient rouletters. This ultimately led to me lying on the ground with ketchup on my chest and neck, with my shirt off. Traffic moved apace and then it happened, a dude. A naked dude. Stroking his erect penis. Looking at me, shirtless.

All the component parts had happened before but this was the first time they combined. About 1 in every 20 or so of these chatters are touching themselves or so it seems but this was the first time one of them lingered watching.

I think I'd be cool with being a celebrity.

I sent an email of complaint to Kerry Low Low, as soon as they reply I'll get back on track. This blog is not dedicated to anyone.

A small death

2010-02-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

So, I went to the cinema last night and to my horror saw a trailer for The Karate Kid - a fucking remake. From that first sentence the discerning reader will realise I'm not happy. I'll outline the situation first then explain why.

The Karate Kid is going to be a pretty much direct remake of the 1984 film that we all hold dear. It will star in place of Ralph Macchio - Jaden Smith. It will star in place of Pat Morita - Jackie Chan and in place of Elisabeth Shue - some Asian child. The premise of the story from what I've gleaned from the trailer and some light internet research is that Smith's character is uprooted from his home and moved to China so that his mother can find work. Once there he sees a girl and meets a bully. These things don't mix a fight ensues. Chan shows up and stops the fight. Chan offers to train Smith. Culture clash followed by rousing montage and ultimate victory.

So here's the problem(s) - Fuck Will Smith. I don't appreciate being force fed his dreams for his son. Jaden Smith seems to be only capable of getting work in his daddy's pictures so no surprise that Smith Snr is producing this.

Fuck Harold Zwart, the director who comes to meddle in my childhood with credentials such as Agent Cody Banks and The Pink Panther 2 under his belt. This man is a mercenary, he does not care the shit he churns out and the damage he will do to my memories.

Other well documented issues include - China is the home of Kung Fu not Karate, Japan is the home of Karate. The title is inaccurate and may be only for Western audiences but the rot has already set in. Pat Morita would never have claimed to teach Kung Fu, may he rest in peace. Chan is A-Ok with this.

Jaden Smith will celebrate his 12th birthday on July 8th. Any sort of romantic plot is somehow muted by this. Consequently his bullying peers can only be the same age or slightly older, not that impressive for Chan to break up that fight. I'm pretty sure I could do that. Johnny Lawrence was badass, not a 12 year old. Jaden Smith also seems to bring some hip hop style sass to the role, I don't think I need to explain why that's a bad thing.

Some Asian 12 year old is not as hot as Elisabeth Shue.

Jackie Chan cannot be serious, Pat Morita brought the necessary gravitas to the role. Morita got a best supporting actor Oscar nomination for his role, back when that meant something. Chan is a clown, a lovable clown but still a clown not suitable for an iconic role like this.

All of these issues have been far better documented on far angrier blogs all across the internet, I just thought I'd recap them a little.

I have a far deeper dread. There are things that form a part of your childhood and adolescence. I never cared about Transformers, I was only peripherally aware of it as a child, so when Michael Bay pissed all over it I didn't care. I looked on amused. When knowing irony seeped into all of the remakes from Transformers to the Hulk movie where Lou Ferrigno got a small cameo, to the Star Trek Movie where it might well have been Bourne in space I didn't care I stood by and let it happen. The trailer after the Karate Kid was for the new A-Team movie and I think that might even be a good idea but stay the fuck away from the Karate Kid.

These things never mattered to me. As a 20 something with an angry blog and hobbies including martial arts and lifting weights you can guess what matters to me. I empathised with the original and being made in 1984 it was just hitting its tv movie slot when it mattered to me. These things that mould you should never be left to the evil and inept the Smiths and the Zwarts, what good can come of it?

My understanding of right and wrong is tenuous at best. It is based around the films of my childhood, those things that in an uncommon clarity explained what was expected of great men, men I could only hope to emulate not some sassy hip hop brat.

The Original

or
The new steaming pile of shit

You decide.

A long time coming

2010-01-05T13:34:00.000-08:00

I'll preface this by saying that while unlikely to be true I believe myself to be immortal.

I have spent a lot of time in my humble blogging career talking about my wedding and plans for getting married. It has always been of an ironic bent, especially lately as it seems that some people don't consider it quite as funny as I do. Suffice it to say that while I'm loyal as a border collie I don't see it in my future anytime soon. I mention marriage once again only because I have devoted so much time to it and I have ignored my own death. Something which despite the preface seems at least twice as likely as marriage. All to my chagrin.

Well let me right this wrong.

I spend most of my waking moments bristling at something or someone and it would be a shame to die and not at least get a chance to explain to all my foes and hindrances that they are a useless pack of wankers who have held me back at every step. That I could have been great were it not for their interference and that I regard every second spent with them as a wasted second. A second that I gladly would have killed babies in the snow for the chance to relive it and do something useful with my time. There is a list of these people, it only exists in my head at the moment but if it is the last thing I do I will scrawl their names in my own blood beside where I fall.

My vanity of course would prefer a living funeral. Which as far as my meagre research has led me to understand is a gathering of all the people who would otherwise come to your funeral but yet you are alive and present and enjoying all the nice things being said about you. In my case there would also be shouting at those that have had it coming. A lot of shouting. A corpse always has the moral high ground.

It should be a secular affair because for the sake of my immortal soul I do hope I was right about the whole religion thing. It'd be embarrassing if I wasn't. Downright catastrophic for my surprised to exist immortal soul. I'd like a cremation, just because you can do such interesting things with ashes these days. My preference being that they are used in tattoo ink and all my friends get a commemorative tattoo. Maybe my smiling cherubic face on their chest. In memory of me you should be slightly embarrassed forever.

My poor mother should be comforted too. Not that I assume she is naive to the facts but in cleaning my room she is likely to find things that were hidden to spare us a moment and an explanation. Poor dear. Trying to mourn but really just ashamed. Deeply ashamed and hoping too that I was right about religion, for my sake.

My vanity is the ruling factor in these preparations. I'd like no less than three eulogies. As a change I think they should be honest. When my grandmother died the priest in summing up said she was "kind and generous of spirit", she was not. I don't think she was any of the nice things he said. Before she lost her mind and died ten years before she was finally buried, she was bitter and sharp and condescending and didn't suffer fools gladly. Commendable but not suitable for the traditional eulogy format. My eulogies will tell the people assembled for the benefit of my parents and siblings the truth. The terrible truth. The failure of a man I really was. Despite that, I'd also like it mentioned how fucking awesomely strong I was.

Every story needs a happy ending.

Strangely Numb of Late

2009-12-21T15:53:00.000-08:00

Not that the usual business of getting knocked around and pissed off by it hasn't been occurring, I've just been a bit numb to the effects of it all. I get to thinking that I could write a blog about it all and then I come to realise I just don't give enough of a damn to write it down. My fire is slowly burning out.

The plan here is to give a quick recap of the last while, see if anything takes my fancy and if I get to writing then all well and good. I think I'll start by topic and work from there.

Work:
I've become less idealistic. Truth be told, I've been becoming less idealistic since day two when the cold started to set in. I've stopped believing that a group of like minded people prepared to fight the good fight and be the best we can be is what I want. I want to be surrounded by fuck ups. Their litany of sins and precedents set insulate me from the high standards that should be set. I may be alone in feeling safe and comforted knowing that I'm in the company of quite a few terminal fuck ups (who I might point out, do not as far as I know know of this blog). Comedy could only ensue if they did.

Love Life:
It is not a train wreck. Train wrecks get media attention, they are of general interest. Mine is pretty much just an empty train track stretching off in either directions in the dying light of a long day. In an effort to resolve this I've attempted to be more social of late. I hate going out, I hate noise and I hate drunken idiots. I figure I feel about going out how most people feel about pull ups. They're not good at them, they hurt and if anyone is about they embarrass you as you hang limply from the bar trying to understand how your genetics have been thwarted by you. Conversely, while not being world class or anything I quite enjoy pull ups. I can do them with no warm up or real consideration. I do them for fun and if people are ever to be impressed by me this is the time. Also, Fuck Coppers!

Training:
The war on muscular atrophy continues. It's more of a guerrilla war, with no planning and sporadic attacks with wildly different strategies and success rates. It's madness but I can feel the enemy weakening. Why can't I deadlift worth shit though? I've built a new pulling platform. Surely that will help? That's weight lifted anyway, I'm starting to get fat and I need to pay a closer eye to that. Jitz has suffered. A victim of an unforgiving working week and if I can't crush people what's the point?

Thoughts and Conjecture:
As a child I used to pray, I think I did anyway. I'd lie in bed and think on the things that I wanted or was worried by and I'd drift off. I've a fairly narrative style of thinking. Nothing would change but it was reflective and sometimes cathartic. Now I just think what would make a good blog and work on the phrasing. It's more or less the same. More or less.

I've been involved in two car accidents the last three days. Neither were serious and I had at least a second or two to see each of them coming. Nothing occurred to me. I fear that in the moments before my untimely death I won't have the presence of mind to utter a laconic last sentiment. That said, laughed my ass off after each collision. Genuinely funny.

At a wedding recently. Started planning my own. The food choices will be either a fillet steak or a ribeye. Fillet for the ladies and the vegetarians. Music will be entirely made up of songs that people invited by my parents won't know and will find difficult to dance along to. It will be a viciously secular ceremony. Speeches will be uncharacteristically honest and as a result of the above the bride will most likely spend the day crying and lamenting agreeing to marry me. It will be the most memorable wedding of the year but that may not be a good thing.

I feel the dark clouds of Christmas gathering. Having to play nice with extended family galls me. It bothers me that outside of the issues of consanguinity and the propagation to the species people assume a blood tie means I have to listen to them prattle on and respond in kind. I'll just get some training in. More amusingly, we received our yearly letter from the "American relatives", they send it every year despite not once receiving a reply. It tries to cover their trials and successes with an upbeat and thankful tone. Stuff like John and Kerry's baby Jennifer starting Montessori and how even at this young age we can see she's destined for greatness. Fuck sake. My favourite is the negative shit, divorces and the loss of loved ones. Not that I take more than a normal amount of joy in the suffering of others but seeing the mental gymnastics required to phrase this dark material in a way that makes it seem like God's will for his idiot children is something very special indeed.

There's a line from Inglourious Basterds that's stuck in my head, as Col Landa tells Aldo Raine he'll be shot for killing his driver and maiming him - "Nah. I don't think so. More like chewed out. I've been chewed out before."

I haven't posted in a while

2009-10-30T07:43:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted anything in a while. I hope this explains why, at least partially. I was distracted and I've always been lazy. For anyone who regularly checks my blog my heartfelt apologies. What follows is a letter to Vodafone. Submitted via a query form thing. A confirmation email has been received but I've been delayed over long and I'm eager.

Dear Sir/Madam,

Let me first introduce myself, my name is Conan, Champion of the People or if you would prefer the introduction given as one number among many my number is 0871234567.

I've had that number since I've had a phone. Details of which I am sure you can check more accurately but I think that has been nearly a decade. My first phone was a Nokia 3210 an iconic phone. My first phone was bought from Eircell which you as a company later purchased and in that transition I stood by you. I've been with you since then. I've been loyal. Phones have come and gone but we have prevailed. Or at least had.

Recently I met a young lady. Charming, beautiful, funny – all of those things that one looks for in a lady. As things sometimes do, things went well. This young lady is on the O2 network. Drawn to her as I was I changed network. I kept my number, that seems selfish of me but I did. I moved to O2 and signed an 18month contract. This was a purely financial decision. I know sometimes people say it's nothing personal, but I can assure you in this case it wasn't. I was decided only by lust and avarice.

As things sometimes do, things went awry. The lady, no less charming, beautiful or funny is gone. I am left with a contract and a sense that disloyalty no matter at whom it is directed never goes unpunished.

I'm not writing to you looking for anything. Just to say that I left vodafone through no fault of yours. I wasn't, as a customer, impressed by the operation red promotion. Ultimately that had no impact on my costs or as I gather the costs of others, it could be seen by more cynical men than I to be an empty gesture more about the bluster and marketing than helping customers but as I am no longer a customer and unable to return to Vodafone, you can ignore my criticisms and accept my apology.

I do hope that this soothes any unease you had over my departure. Once again I'd like to say I'm sorry and in future will think more highly of my longstanding relationships and not rush off for transient new one.

Regards,

Conan

Any reply from Vodafone will be posted.

Reply from Vodafone

Faceless and unloving as it is, maybe this is all I deserve?

Dear Mr Conan

Thank you for contacting us with your query.

Thank you for taking the time to contact us. When you are porting
back to the Vodafone network you can process this in a Vodafone store
or online at our website.

If you have any further queries, please call us on CallSave 1850 20
87 87 between 08:00hrs to 22:00hrs and we will be happy to assist you.

Yours sincerely

Vodafone Customer Care Team

Moments of self reflection

2009-09-02T14:29:00.000-07:00

I worry sometimes that I'm too full of bluster. All hot air and swearing. That maybe there is no kernel of truth or moment of oneness with me within any of my blogs. This is compounded sometimes when I read something that is brief, eloquent and exceptionally well written.

The man responsible for me feeling all self conscious and naked is Mark Rippetoe. If you've known me for any length of time I've probably directed you to his message board or said "that's not what Rip says". He is a strength and conditioning coach, Beyond that he is eloquent and writes exceptionally well, veering from the succinct to the verbose, the touching to the offensive and always related to barbell training and the truths that it yields. He is as close to any that I might call a hero. For a while my stated goal was for him to cordially call me a "silly bastard". Maybe someday.

The passage in question arose when a person posted a video of bodybuilder routine on Rip's message board. As is custom, all the strength devotees jumped on the chance to ridicule bodybuilding and beat their more manly chests. One comment read thusly
I have tangled with Coach Rippetoe on the concept of hypertrophy in the past. Good times. I argue that pursuing hypertrophy (becoming stronger and looking bigger, better, more masculine and more muscular in the process) is laudable while bodybuilding per se (wearing silk panties and lubing your body) is just plain gay. Coach tends to automatically equate a desire to improve one's physical appearance and performance through barbell training with bodybuilding.

I barbell train to get stronger, be healthier and look better. Rippetoe trains (and advocates) barbell training to get stronger and be healthier. To Coach, looking better is only a douchebag's errand.

Understanding another person is a rare thing and so it was necessary for Rip to clarify his position, this is the comment that reminded me of the esteem I hold him in - I appreciate the kind words as always, but please don't mischaracterize my position. I understand that appearance is an integral part of most people's motivations when they begin training. It certainly was mine, and only a fool denies a desire to be perceived more favorably by other humans, as well as oneself. This serves as motivation for beginning to train, and once a person achieves a modicum of improvement in strength and physique, a normally adjusted individual moves beyond the aesthetic as the primary motivator and becomes interested in the various aspects of performance. My position is that when the aesthetic-improvement aspects of training are retained as the primary fascination with it, to the extent that a person wants to show everybody else what he looks like so badly that he enters a "competition" venue designed specifically for this purpose -- or prepares himself for this purpose whether he enters the physique show or not -- then he has become a fucking weirdo. The oil, brown paint, silky underthings, bizarre stage behavior, and questionable juxtapositions with one's fellow weirdos onstage are merely the trappings of such weirdness.

Such behavior is tolerated well when displayed by women, since our culture seems to appreciate such things. And the defenders of the IFBB/NPC may therefore claim that they are the leaders in the transformation of society, the fellows who are at the forefront of the push to objectify both sexes. Fine with me, boys. But it has been my experience that men who so desperately wish to be thought of as being muscular/defined/massive/Herculean that it becomes the sole focus of training, that it carries over into dietary practices that effectively isolate them from normal social interaction with family and friends, and that it finally leads them up on stage in their oil, paint, and underwear to show other men their muscles, are fundamentally different than I am. Better or worse is something we may disagree on.

I'll accept it's cheap to write a blog based largely on something someone else said far better than you could have. Not a great advertising strategy either but Fuck it. I really enjoyed that. Other idiots wrote a lot of stupid shit.

http://strengthmill.net/forum/showthread.php?t=6481

Bodybuilding shows are weird, but I know some and they are nice guys so my own views have yet to crystalise.

A sad commentary

2009-08-20T14:29:00.000-07:00

Below is a recent letter to Budweiser. I don't think I'm alone in this line of thought. What upsets me is that this poor girl in consumer care is obliged to be polite. It's like a tame version of when the enemy in a bad science fiction movie declares that a humans capacity for love is their weakness. In the real world though the evil alien overlord is right. The plucky hero armed only with love is fucked. Rambling intro aside, here's the letter

Dear Sir/Madam,

Before I get to the meat of the issue may I first criticise you on the difficulty of finding a contact email address that the Irish consumer may use. I realise that I could go straight to the source on this question but I'm of a provincial nature and find it more concerting to talk to the Irish division. That and I am led to believe that many beverages have regional variations depending on the plant producing them, so it seems that any query would best be addressed to the regional office. In this regard, I was unable to find a contact email address anywhere on www.diageo.ie.

The origin of my query is simple. I do not like the taste of your beer. More to the point I find it lacks taste or body.

I have read all about the beechwood aging, the large proportion of rice in addition to hops and barley malt and how it is filtered. I have heard all about its smooth taste. I've seen and been impressed by the horses. Horses are strong, powerful and bespeak tradition and old world high standards. I've seen the beers placed in movies and in these movies these beers were consumed by stars that I would wish to emulate. I've seen all this and because of all this I time and again come back to your beer. Just to make sure it hasn't gotten any better, because even if it gets a little better I would definitely start drinking it. In public anyway.

With the arrival of Bud Light and the "the difference is drinkability" slogan, I was hopeful. Bud Light even sponsored a few UFC's and what more manly thing is there than fighting in no holds barred combat. Even when Brock Lesnar said he didn't like Bud Light I was more impressed, because I don't like Brock Lesnar. So I was tempted by Bud Light, after all you were claiming it was drinkable. Modest a claim as that is, it failed to live up to it. Instead this just tastes like watered down Budweiser.

I haven't travelled much in my life so I can't be sure that it's not just the Irish take on Budweiser that is wrong, but surely someone else would have noticed?

My question then is this, are there any plans to make Budweiser taste any better? If you need my assistance in taste testing any improvements I would be glad to assist, please do not hesitate to contact me. I want to help you make the beer I know you can make.

Kind Regards,
Conan
Champion of the People

The response

Dear Mr. Conan,

Thank you for your recent email in regards to Budweiser.

I am very sorry to hear that you do not enjoy the taste of Budweiser or Bud Light. It is our aim to please all consumers, so I will pass all of your feedback on to our Budweiser Brand team.

I would very much like to thank you for sending us in your comments as all consumer feedback is extremely important to us.

Kind regards,

Grondar
DIAGEO Consumer Careline

Once more into the breach...

2009-08-13T23:34:00.000-07:00

I don't think that I could be considered as being overly discrete here. As my first new blog on this site I'll point out that I'm maintaining some anonymity, overtly anyway. To that that end I won't list names but they are available on request, if your interest in my life is pronounced enough. I jump from first to third person and some narrative too and decide to hyphenate "gay-assed".

What the holy fuck?

I'd like to think of myself as slow and considered. I'm not though, I just fucking procrastinate. I hang around and let things get all fucking bunched up in my head. I beat the ever loving shit out of myself, have some fucking Orange Creek, Dawson's County moment and then hit a fucking reset button to get back to the stage I was at 6 to 8 weeks previously.

That stage is called alone with no obvious prospects.

Step 1. Meet a girl.

Step 2. Reserve final judgement, but initial intuition is positive.

Step 3. Wait for far too fucking long, all the while sharing experiences and building up a rapport.

Step 4. Wake up some godforsaken day and decide that you should ask her out.

Step 5. SHOT DOWN

Step 6. Write an irritating blog as some sort of gay-assed “closure” bullshit.

I sit and contemplate the whole dichotomy of the friend/lover thing and whether it actually exists. Greater minds and louder mouths have put forward both sides and I have deferred to their expert judgement. Should I just barge in cock out, bawdy joke on my lips and grab asses? Is that what women are secretly into?

Then I watch and see her/them ('cos this isn't fucking isolated and my vengeance will be universal) go off with some cretin. A fucking halfwit. He doesn't know or care how much better than him I am. And this ignorance, this lack of the vanity to analyse yourself and those around you is the only way he beats me. That's my flaw!

After Step 6 where do we go? Well even in the getting shot down stage the Elephant has quietly entered the room and is mixing himself a drink before he takes up a commanding position by the window. His sheer bulk blocks the light and leaves us in darkness. Is she so intent on ignoring the polite elephant that she can't hear the tones of defeat? Maybe.

Is this justification for flying into a rage? No. Fuck it, you're a pussy. You wouldn't know what flying into a rage looked like.

So now, now that I know, I'll keep my mouth shut. Things will fade. Everything fades. In a while I'll find someone new and I can do this all again.

Mr. Friday Night

2009-08-11T10:15:00.000-07:00


	I don't know how you feel about Chuck Lorre. I don't know if you know who Chuck Lorre is. He's a sitcom writer. He has written Grace Under Fire, Dharma and Greg, Cybill, Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory. If you had no opinions of him before the first paragraph, you may well hold one now. It may be a negative opinion. I don't think Chuck Lorre cares what you think, he's successful and either very much wealthier than you or in debt to some serious people whose opinions of him matter far more than either yours or mine. So regardless of how much you hate some of his shows, and in some respects they are deserving of contempt. I fucking hate laughtracks. He ends each show with a vanity card. It sums up some shit from his point of view, it explains a joke in the episode, it pokes fun at the establishment and it occasionally gets censored because of test group results on a joke or fears over offending a demographic. They're all archived on www.chucklorre.com and if you've time to read the shit that I commit to the internet you have time to glance at one or two of those. Look first at the ones with a “c” in brackets beside them. That means it has been censored and depressingly makes it a cut above the rest of them. An illustration that some of that contempt should be reserved for the executives. Maybe Chuck Lorre is just doing a job and people are getting in his way. In other news, I grow tired of Bebo, or more acurately Bebo has become tired. Since I spent all that time typing up all these blogs I'm thinking of moving at least the ones I like to an actual blog. Empathises

Quelling Fears

2009-08-11T10:14:00.000-07:00

There is this prevailing terror that we live in some sort of Big Brother run society where cameras spy on your every movement. This I can exclusively reveal is absolute bollocks.

I know there are cameras, I know they may well be pointed at you, but in a very Irish solution to the problem of the erosion of our rights, they do not fucking work. Even when times were good they didn't work and now they are just an expensive place for a pigeon to sit. Great view for the pigeon mind.

I can't say for certain who introduces or keeps the topic afloat when public debates come up, maybe a ruse by our not so omnipresent state. Pay one or two loudmouths to complain about the invasion of privacy while all the time you've never been so ignored.

There are cameras but there are problems -
- The people controlling them don't give a fuck, any footage retrieved is some lurid collection of close up shots of tits and ass.
- They don't record on to anything or it's just a pretend camera
- Despite the ease with which a decent digital system could be purchased, nobody bothers so you end up with a grainy picture of what could be your grandmother, rest her soul, robbing a bank
- For reasons of corporate greed, each fucking shop has a system that can only play footage on its own software.
- For reasons of corporate cost cutting, a blank cd is the hardest thing in the world to find
- For reasons of ineptitude, time is wasted and even a decent system will delete footage after about a month.
- The one working camera is now obscured by a shrub, a discoball, a bird's nest or most infuriating the intermittent fluttering of a rainbow flag.

So rest easy. While your village may be invaded and razed to the ground, your daughters raped and your wives sold into slavery the chances of this apocalypse featuring on a usable piece of CCTV is so remote as to not be worth considering.

Should you manage to get some CCTV to court...... they can only play VHS.

Sleeping better?

A grand and Pathetic Tradition

2009-08-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

My rowing machine is name Kate. It is named after a girl that I lusted after and couldn't have. The purchase of the rowing machine coincided nicely with the lusting. So it seemed the only right and sensible thing to do to name it after her.

I have bought other equipment and I have wanted other girls but these things haven't since coincided. I attempted to give all my equipment a girl's name but without the feelings it's hard to remember. Fuck I even tried to individually name my rings and I just didn't care. I know I named one of my kettlebells Marie but I can't remember which. Probably the heavy one. A sort of irony, but I didn't really feel it and the name has faded.

Now I find myself anxiously awaiting the arrival of my new bar. My beautiful 29mm diameter bar, with 200,000 lb yield strength (whatever that means), no chrome or other artifice just natural steel. A bar of natural beauty. Not made up like the trampy bars we see in gyms.

The knurl is pretty too, marked for both powerlifting and weightlifting. http://www.roguefitness.com/store/BR... - It's a damn fine bar. Coincidentally I find myself lusting too.

This bar with it's rich character, distinctive appearance and timely arrival will have a name.

My tyre is called Samantha but that's just cos it looks like a Samantha.

get some chalk on it

Lust doesn't sum it up but I was restricted by the proximity of posting this on Bebo and I occasionally wish to avoid a scene. At least I like to be in control of the scene. The bar is named Paula.

Hip Hip Hooray

2009-08-11T10:09:00.000-07:00


	On the night of my recent birthday I wrote a blog which upon reading the next morning was whiny and did not sound like I had lived the 26 years I'm now touting. It focused mainly on the idea that the sum total of my efforts thus far would only amount to about 23 years for any barely competent individual and that even with a lot of resting that leaves me with 3 years which I have truly wasted. Not even in the drink and drugs way that I'd like to have wasted a couple of years. That little paragraph above was stretched to a galling couple of hundred words and resolved nothing. As an aside I typed up a list of pros and cons of The Shane. Pros 1. no receding of the hairline. A slight greying at the temples all rendered immaterial due to preference for shaved head. Still it should be noted. 2. as time passes steadily rising up the percentiles of what classes as being in great shape for my age. By age 40, hopes to beat ex-Olympian at something. 3. majestic shoulders, comparatively useless but majestic nonetheless. 4. Modest, has trouble making a list of positives about himself 5. does not use textspeak 6. Has seen most of the films that people talk about at parties, making him invaluable at quizzes and in identifying films based on small snippets of plot or cast credits 7. does not drink a lot either in volume per sitting or in frequency 8. Has not killed anyone. Though insists on qualifying that with "yet" 9. Not a conspiracy theorist 10. Sleeps soundly most nights and some days 11. Good at spelling, not great though. 12. Eats his steak medium to medium rare as a consideration to the animal and others who have ordered and may otherwise be delayed. In fact finds that as he grows older and fewer and fewer things matter to him, dreams of steak have become the most important thing in his life. 13. Punctual, sometimes to the point of being irritating, very frequently to the point of being irritated and then showing this irritation. Cons 1. Occasionally, needlessly pedantic. 2. Does not play well with others. In fact thinks many people are fucking muppets and fears that this shows through his poor attempt to hide it. 3. Slips confusingly between the third and first person. 4. I sometimes over sleep which means I make the choice between a nutritious breakfast and speeding on my way to work. 5. Rarely misses breakfast even when late. 6. Does not believe in what he is doing and fears that someone might spot this 7. While is good at spelling is poor at punctuation 8. Is crippled by a deep seated fear that while I think that people would understand I refuse to put into words because of the well deserved shame that I would feel. 9. Refusing to humour more and more people 10. Blogs rather more than is necessary with a quality control mechanism that is lacking. 11. The tears won't come because I won't let them. 12. Can only satisfactorily cook five or six things. 13. Strangely angular, asymmetric head. And so it went. I imagine there are more pros, definitely more cons. Taking stock

New adventures in cosmetics

2009-08-11T10:07:00.000-07:00


	I look pretty much the way I look. I wake up and I leave. Zero prep time. From an effort to results ratio point of view I score highly. From a pure results point of view, not as well but I'm hoping that people apply a weighting to the results and I get noticed for being generally on time and holding doors open unless I'm late and worried about not being on time. I need the extra punctuality marks. All this is a prelude to my trip into the pharmacy to buy some sort of lip balm or lip treatment as some pompous brands call themselves. Hardly a day at the spa is it? I've been in chemists before. I've cracked things, sprained things, had various unpleasant illnesses that I needed chemical assistance to defeat. I'm no stranger. I know my way around a pack of anti-inflammatories. This is different. The difference between being audience and performer. The nerves tear at me. I approach the pretty girl in the pharmacy, unsure if she's just a part timer or has a degree in Pharmacology andmy question will bore her. I affect an air of nonchalance, as if I do this all the time. It slips almost instantly. I'm conscious of what I'm wearing. I realise my left nostril is blocked. Maybe the reduced oxygen intake is making me sound like an idiot. Did I actually say that? The girl is a part timer. My attempt at an intelligent question about proteins and ph and something else result in a bemused stare. She really wishes she got the old man who lost his wife and justs wants to talk about his problems to someone. But that guy went to the other girl, the one I suspect has a degree in a related field. She looks unhappy too. I'm directed to an unsorted box of different lip goo. They come in stick or tub form. The main selling points and differences seem to revolve around flavour and whether or not you've gotten over the juvenile idea of carrying vaseline around with you. As she doesn't seem to know or care about any of my questions I explain patiently that I am looking for the manliest of lip treatments. Again some puzzlement. Hiding at the bottom I see a Neutrogena box. They make things for fishermen. Surely some of that technology has filtered through to their image obsessed teen division? The fishermen know my pain. Chapped lips brought on by standing in the cold. When has Norway let me down? I pick up the box but the girl has really started to push the carmex. "It's the most popular brand", she says. "But do you sell to many men", I retort with chest puffed out meaningfully. She falls silent. Contemplatively. My purchase complete, I leave. With a minimum of fuss. I look ridiculous. I cannot imagine how any self respecting fisherman on a floating bastion of heterosexuality that is the modern fishing boat can look in the mirror as he does the routine, that trace the lips with the stick, rub them together and pout routine. He'd be raped as a lesson not to be so fucking effeminate. The Norwegians wouldn't allow that. It is easy for me to love myself, but for ladies to do it is another question altogether. - Johnny Vegas Recent and obvious enough that I don't need to explain

Glum Hugs

2009-08-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

Before I even start I think I've got to acknowledge the ownership of the term "Glum Hugs". As someone who shoots his mouth off and from whom soundbites are subsequently stolen I couldn't live with myself if I did the same to Carrie, that and more importantly Carrie will glare at me. That frightens me.

Anyway to topic. Not last week but the week before I was in a 4 day long bad mood. I clarify because last week I was in fucking exceptional form despite the almost complete lack of sleep. The bad mood was down to a combination of things. I'll mention the things that don't pertain to my continuing quest to find a wife, namely the loss of a certain piece of protective equipment. I say loss, because theft alleges something I really don't want to follow up. It went missing is the long and short of it and I've long stopped believing that things take on a life of their own when I leave them alone. One of many illusions that faded away with childhood.

Being in a bad mood and being generally bad company left me alone and in a bad mood. This reminded me of the book "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus", one night we had a copy of it and having little other entertainment picked the salacious and pointless parts out. It made some reference to a man's "cave" that mental space that a man goes into when the tide of things turn against him. He noted that he would become less talkative, more contemplative and generally retreat into a headspace all his own to solve these problems. The book is shit. It just points out enough of the obvious to be taken seriously by people looking for a quick fix. If your relationship is fucked up and this is where you turn then you don't really care enough for the relationship or you should be dumped because unless you're partner is a moron this won't help.

So here I found myself, in a mental cave. I have, through years of being in bad moods and a self destructive streak, made real my cave - it is Muscle Forge. When I'm pissed off, I go lift. I go in angry and confused and by the end I'm focused and if I was angry enough I have a deep burn and a personal record. The week then culminated with three days of me beating the ever loving shit out of myself. It begins with Kate and a 2k row, despite not rowing for the past three months I throw caution to the wind and shoot for a new record. Doubt and the pain in my legs cloud my mind and halfway through I falter. I just miss out on a new PB with a time of 6.53. Fuck.

Next day, I go squatting. A video of this is online somewhere for those who care. During the third set, traditionally where I am stronger I die under the bar. Thanks to catch bars this isn't literal death just the death of pride and the workout. The mood is darker and the next day stairs hurt my poor abused legs. Bollocks.

The sky is dark and all I can think of is the lessons on pathetic fallacy back in English. Grit your teeth, growl through a smile and set up the rings. Thirty muscle ups here I come. The masochistic streak comes out and I ignore the torn callus on my wrist and try to push on through. Hit the timer after the last rep at 8.20. Fuck yeah, a new record.

Aside from just venting and bragging about my new muscle up time the point of this is to show that though you may feel like shit and all about you may be letting you down there are better uses for bodily fluids than crying. Sweating is one of them. Clear headed and happy I emerge from the Cave. Nothing has changed but perspective.

Pissed off at something new today.

People seemed to like this blog. I also really like the phrase glum hugs.

Brainstorming

2009-08-11T09:58:00.000-07:00


	I fucking hate teamwork. I hate sitting around and being forced to come up with buzz words and quick pithy answers by some over enthusiastic throwback from a widely discredited HR degree. You're meant to come up with new and exciting ideas on an old and redundant topic. To take this vigour and race back to the coalface and get some real changes happening. In truth it just gets you away from the coalface for a little while and gets you pissed off enough at brainstorming that your normal dotting of i's and crossing of t's doesn't seem quite so braindead. The unflinching gaze of the person conducting this little "informal" session and the untested courage of some of the participants results in some rabbits caught in some pretty powerful headlights. Suddenly we've got a poor unfortunate asked what he thinks. Poor bastard had probably never had to think about anything and suddenly he has to say something that gets written on the damnable flipchart. Panic. The eyes widen, adrenaline floods the system, the super accurate hearing picks up every little snigger - then suddenly Inspiration. A long forgotten buzzword jumps to the fore and the pressure is off. The only thing worse than this is when your "point" isn't good enough. You see the marker hover and the flicker of doubt pass over the face of the soulless human shell conducting the session. Maybe they're not getting it?, they think. Rest assured though, someone will pipe up and we're back on. In the grip of a mad fervour. Why can't people just shut the fuck up? On mature reflection this has nothing to do with the topic in question. Brainstorming isn't about mature reflection. It's about mob mentality. It's shouted answers, rapid fire questions and an orgiastic sense of accomplishment before you realise you're an ass. My favourite ever Brainstorming moment was when, without any irony, someone made the point that a mob is only as intelligent as its stupidest member. That little gem made the flipchart hall of fame. I'm accustomed to being a pariah of sorts. In primary school I was a little nerdy and in secondary school I was a lot nerdy. After that I got into music that isn't entirely mainstream, pursuits that aren't GAA or Soccer or rugby, fuck, my pursuits involve no balls whatsoever, no pun intended. I'm that weird. Despite my career choice I'm a big Bill Hicks fan and am kinda pro drugs, pro choice, pro guns, I'm against DNA and fingerprint databases, I'm against censorship and I'm unsure about democracy because as already pointed out by the luminary in the brainstorming session the mob is only as intelligent as its stupidest member. All this preparation aside I'm still not strong enough to stand up to the flipchart marker wielding psycho demanding a pearl of wisdom to put up. I can't just say "I think things are alright" or "isn't all of this a bit pointless", I don't know what the consequences are but I'm afraid. I try to still my beating heart and say something to bring us down, to get us out but to no avail. I just mumbled and shrugged and smiled to indicate I was done speaking. That gets the crazy eyes off me and onto the poor fool who made eye contact. By its fast paced nature these things can't continue for long. They're snappy and if left go for too long will sap the will of even the most stalwart zealots. Maybe in China, but not here. They have to let us have a break. They have to let us go back to the jobs we love so well.... Right after we fill in a quick feedback form. Original comments on this topic informed me that the current industry term is idea shower. Other than that they were uninformative. The particular session this was inspired by some sort of women's aid thing and only served to demonstrate I don't care.

What did I tell you?

2009-08-11T09:53:00.000-07:00

You may have guessed that I was in a bad mood. Not angry just tetchy and generally pissed off. You may not have guessed. You may not have even cared. Maybe your worries are greater than what mood has taken Shane today. They probably are. People are generally selfish and don't care about my moods nearly as much as I think they should. After all, I'm fucking great. I'm the brightest star in a darkened sky, I'm the first flower of springtime and I don't take advantage of drunks, in the main anyway. I'm all of these things and more and I do it with a certain reserved dignity that brings to mind royalty. Not modern royalty but more like Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings.

Some of the reasons for the bad mood are pretty self evident and others are best left unsaid. Sleeping dogs and other clichés that I could trot out. You can see the depth of the mood by the dismal blog before this. Posted but mere hours ago it was written by an entirely different Shane. A broken man trying to figure out morality and justify his course of action. Fuck all that. Fuck it to the hell I'm going to spend the next month in. Cold and sore and bored and dealing with idiots. Fuck it all to that hell.

The change that has been wrought is due to Bill and Bench pressing. I know you can't really seperate the two. Bill loves the bench, and more than that loves to beat me in a semi-regular bench pressing competition. The rules - five sets with 80kgs, max reps wins. Rest periods are based on the honour system and allow for conversation. Couple o' beers and this would be the greatest way to spend a Friday night. Bill loves to bench. Tonight I got the call and despite my mood accepted the challenge. Step up. I did the mental arithmetic had a plan. Knew what I'd do each set and then completely ignored this and for the first time beat Bill. Two clear reps. I am the reigning champion. A bad mood can't withstand that kind of positive energy. Fuck right and wrong and the second guessing. Fuck the future and the corner I'll be standing on for a month. Fuck the wind, the rain and the biting cold. Fuck pretty pictures and ugly memories. All these things pass.

To top it all off I walked into the house and Highlander was on the TV. Fuck yeah.

Chalked up and happy

Bill had a bum elbow which has since healed and ruined this little ritual on me. The month that followed was as shit as I expected, but it passed and I remained. This should be instructive but I continue to bitch and moan at every little bump in the road.

Pointless but fun

2009-08-11T09:52:00.000-07:00


	I have in my time experienced some poor service, if you read my blogging history you'll see examples of me screaming into the deaf night about it. One example though that never gets the attention it so richly deserves is Santa Claus. Before we even start, I know you'll throw the whole "he's a kindly old man, who does it for free" argument at me. Don't waste my time. The Coca Cola corporation along with everyone who decorates a house pays for the use of this mans copyrighted image. There are more figures of Santa than Jesus. He's more popular than the Easter Bunny and to be honest he is just a face for the hardworking elves. The politics of the Elf Union aside, the Santa Claus conglomerate have piss poor after sales service. I have in my time woken up on Christmas morning to be sadly disappointed with only a jumper from my grandparents left to come - that doesn't cheer you up. I know the sting of a confused order. While the pre-sale service is downright exemplary. I tried to order Weightlifting shoes online and since they are coming from America they can't verify my address - so it takes more effort. Santa commits to finding you, no matter how incomplete your address. I order stuff from the internet all the time and despite my attempts to mark it as "gift" the people at customs still tax me. Santa on the other hand has an arrangement - he smuggles more stuff across borders than anyone else in history. I mean the man is good. You can post in your order, you can mail it in, hell you can go meet a duly appointed deputy in any shopping centre across the land. With so many orders, I don't doubt that sometimes accidents happen. I order something good and one of the elfs mixes up the order with some child that ordered a piece of shit - it happens. I've worked in a factory stores, you try your best but mix ups happen. On a grand scale it's bound to be a huge problem. So here is where the complaint starts. The day after Christmas (we'll give them Christmas day off) I go along to a shopping centre, I notice that the grotto is closed. What the fuck? What if I have received the incorrect gift and wish to report the matter to Santa. The answer I get is to Fuck off. A reasonable period, maybe 30 days, to report any mix ups or errors or indeed to return gifts that just aren't as cool as they looked on TV. You know the sort, the board game that has the happy family playing it, but once you take it out of the box it's hard to put together and your still stuck with your family.... I just want to maybe exchange this for something good. Santa on the other hand is on holiday until just after Halloween next year and your complaints can wait. Next year rolls around and instead of writing in, cos that's where it went wrong last year you go to the grotto that's open now that he wants your business again - you talk to the vice-santa in charge and explain that last year he fucked up. You explain that this year it better not happen again or Joe Duffy will be getting an angry phonecall, the Sunday World will be told how Santa's helper dropped the hand and that as you slept and Santa left the presents on the bed he molested you. You warn him, you make it clear that poor service will not be tolerated. That you are a consumer and you have rights. He sits there dumb. Maybe this time he'll get it right. This year he doesn't even bother, apparently he's claiming you were naughty. Fuck him. This small print shit is sickening. I've seen other businesses do it but I thought he'd be different. Next year I'll be taking my business to a completely different semi-pagan icon for the mid winter gift giving celebration. Reporting this to the Ombudsman

2009-08-11T09:48:00.000-07:00


	More nuisancery, this time with a definite win marked in the great ledger. Letter to Miller, sent while drinking moderately Dear Sir/Madam, At the end of a very long day I have put my feet up and left my woes behind and all with your help. The stresses and strains have been washed away by the cleansing liquid that is beer. In particular, your fine product - Miller. This is not my first time partaking of your fine beverage, nor is it the first time that I have enjoyed it. Far from it, the stories I could tell if only time would allow. It is the first time that I have had a trying day and when easing my worries thought of the good people of the customer services team. I assume that you receive a lot of negative feedback and I would like to, on the record state, that I think you are doing a fine job. I do hope that you will pass on my regards to all concerned with putting forth such a strong effort. For the record I would also like to state that I do not have an alcohol addiction or substance abuse problem I am just an ordinary man at the end of a long day. a very long day. Thank you for your help in this. Regards, Conan After sometime elapsed, I followed up my mail Dear Sir/Madam, While my commitment to your fine product has never wavered, I must question your customer service. I imagine that many of the communications that you receive on a daily basis are negative, in an attempt to commend you I emailed my sincere thanks, an email that has gone unacknowledged. Once again let me congratulate and thank you for your fine product, in particular I enjoy your screw top bottles - they are an excellent innovation. Regards, Conan The response from one very nice, Pinto Dear Sir - If you send us your address, we will send on a little something for your trouble. Thank you for your custom, apologies, that your first email was missed. Warm regards, Pinto I duly responded with my address and await my surprise. The more I think about it, the more I think it could be a vicious beating, courtesy of the good people at Beamish and Crawford. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. This was in fact a €10 voucher to be used against the purchase of Miller. Unlike the CIE voucher I used this one almost immediately.

Reflections

2009-08-11T09:45:00.000-07:00

Some musings back in the way back then. In essence a system looking for proof beyond reasonable doubt can't begin with god. Concessions are in fact made for those who care enough.

With an exam looming first thing tomorrow morning, one for which I have done fuck all work it seems the most sensible thing in the world to have a beer, watch some poker on TV and write a blog. None of these things will appear on the exam. Well possibly licensing laws, and at a stretch gaming, but the nuts and bolts of these aren't being covered. I'm looking at the end product.

What I'm musing over now is the fact that I've spent hours studying. I've spent hours being exact. We are encouraged to be perfect. Yet, there is a decidedly christian ethos to the Garda Siochana. The oath you take in court swears to almighty god, the oath you take looking for a warrant swears to almighty god. On ash wednesday, people walked around with dirty smudges on their foreheads.

It just seems strange to me that a police force, a group of people concerned only with what can and can't be proved have a very definite religious leaning.

It's not really the fault of the police force, it's not a conscious decision, though the reluctance to allow in the Sikh does smack a bit when you see people wandering around with the aforementioned smudges but lets not judge.

Surely, one day soon this will occur to somebody in a position somewhat higher than mine and they'll put in motion the wheels of change. We could have a secular police force. Wouldn't that be nice?

Given my stated religious views, I can't help but feel that I might as well take an oath to the toothfairy.

All capitalisation was intentional

Me and Willie Nelson

2009-08-11T09:40:00.000-07:00


	I have rarely been heartbroken. So utterly crushed and defeated that I felt like crying. I don't cry because it doesn't help. What follows is the blog that was written when I was in one of those fine situations. It may not be my best, in fact it certainly isn't but it marks a moment that I should really remember. The fires have to be stoked and all those people made to pay. I reckon me and Willie Nelson have lived pretty different lives. Not just me and Willie. I've lived an entirely different life from all the musicians that I listen to. To be honest I can't really relate to the exact situations that they sing about and in some cases while I like the songs I probably wouldn't agree, at least not enthusiastically. I'd agree a little, Trent Reznor has the look of a believer and it'd be safer to just play along. That said though, I like the songs and some of the lyrics hit the nail on the head so fucking accurately when I think of them in relation to my own situation. Now I'm counting out the songs that just tell stories. That's what I really like about Johnny Cash; the stories. Gotta love the stories. Yesterday I was lethargic and disinterested in people and conversation. I couldn't focus and all I wanted was a big long lasting hug. This little episode unfortunately fell at the end of the college term and I wasn't sure whether I was sad or just really hungover. Rarely do I get headaches when I'm sad and rarely do I feel like crying like some sort of whinging bitch when I'm hungover - but that was the type of day. I really just wanted a hug. With the morning came me feeling much better, being a little lighter (what I need is a good stomach flu) and the inevitable shame. To cut to the chase though - I wasn't sad. I was happy, well happier than yesterday. I listened to the same songs and heard the same lyrics as I heard yesterday and I could see why I might have associated them with things that may have made me sad, but it was the hangover talking for the most part. When Willie Nelson sings "angels love bad men", I still feel a little like I need a hug. "That's how its always been"

Like the falling leaves

2009-08-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

Most of these blogs were originally posted on Bebo. There are some there that didn't make the leap and there will in theory be some here that won't be on Bebo. I feel that anyone who has ever social-networked can relate, whether that's a good or bad thing I refuse to comment.

Friends come and go and as long as they do it quietly and without making a scene we don't really notice or mind too much. I, like most normal people, will gravitate to whoever is nearest me at the time. I don't mean nearest in the "nearest and dearest" sense, just in the geographical. I will forgive many sins and ignore your shortcomings just so the lonely night doesn't swallow me up.

I've been thinking about this because I really want to hit 100 friends on Bebo. I know this means nothing, Rosanna Davison has more pages of friends than I have friends, I'm sure she's a real peach of a person, she did win Miss World, but the sheer workload of keeping in contact with that many people makes it impossible, she's not Santa Claus. Well probably not. It'd be a ridiculous double life to pull off.

I'm close to 100, real close and I wanna hit it without being anymore needy or desperate than this blog makes me seem. I want other people to ask me to be their friends. That is pretty fucking needy and desperate. It's the same feeling I get when I get near to breaking a fitness record or something. The first time I rowed a 2k in sub 7mins was cool, but it didn't make me a better person or anything, it's just an arbitrary target. Arbitrary is cool, it keeps things simple.

The "quest" for 100 friends, only recently realised, has meant that I had to look at all the friends that I have on bebo and see that some of them I don't know anymore, or never did or knew briefly and couldn't not be friends with. It's silly, very silly. Bordering on the ridiculous. Fuck it, lets not split hairs, it is ridiculous. This blog is meant then for all the people who at one time I knew and said "let's keep in touch" and didn't. Some of you I didn't mean it at the time and some it's just because I'm shit at that sort of stuff and you're better off without me. There are the unlucky few that I think I'm better off without and I would get rid of you but I really want 100 bebo friends and right now that petty little concern outweighs my disdain for you.

So if you know anyone that you think might want to be my friend or would get a kick out of the way I phrase things or the unique selection of videos that I have copied to my profile from other people, then please refer them to my page. For the next three people I will exercise virtually no discretion in claiming them as friends. It'll be a nice little microcosm.

Don't take offence, what We had was truly special.

It's okay to love again

2009-08-11T09:30:00.000-07:00


	At sometime in your life you'll lose something. People will come up to you, avoid eye contact or force the issue of eye contact too much and just make an already uncomfortable moment that little bit worse. You'll be told that they are there for you but within three weeks you won't have heard from half of them and within 10 weeks you will only be speaking to your friends anyway. Even when you speak to your friends the prevailing attitude is "suck it up, we gave you three weeks and that's enough to get over it". People will have told you that you'll get over it and that all it takes is time. That the best tribute to their memory is to live a long and happy life and do the things that make you happy, just spare a moment for them every now and again. At first the moments all come together, you can barely spare a moment for the other parts of life. You feel the loss, but millions of years of evolution means that you go on, just to keep breathing. Just doing the motions. But the days are long and your mind will find a way of tricking you out of this grief, the millions of years of evolution just take care of it. Even if your mind can't help, there's always pills... Then it happens, one day you're going through the routine and you realise that the depth of your feelings for the new skipping rope are the same as for the old one. The handle is finally a familiar piece in your hand, it feels right. The dirt and grime have worked in and it feels like it should be there. Your calves have adapted to the slightly different length and the rhythm has returned. You can do double unders, cross overs and normal skip for ages. It's not exactly the same as the other one but it feels good and today when you looked at it you weren't just reminded of your loss. That was only in the back of my mind. All I was really thinking was "I like skipping", and I do, I'm reborn. I know people say that you can't replace a loved one and at least one other person has probably speculated the same about a skipping rope, but given time you can learn to love again. You can see that what 'ole blue rope would have wanted is for you to be happy and to sculpt those beautiful calves. I still miss her, but I can move on now. Appended to the end of the blog to preserve the tenderness. My favourite part of this blog is that a heartbroken sister of a friend of mine was reading it and really felt a connection. She saw parallels between her recently broken up relationship and the topic. She read on eagerly, then swore loudly when she found out it was about a skipping rope. Since then I have taken a job upon myself that has lots of walking and fucks with my tender ankles, long story short I don't skip anymore. Following the train of thought of the blog what does that say about love and loss?

I do not advocate speeding but....

2009-08-11T09:26:00.000-07:00

	I get the feeling that when the hammer eventually falls they will present this in evidence and fail to see the humour in it. Fuck it. I speed regularly and have a carefully crafted reputation of being punctual.
	Road traffic is a real hot topic for some people. They love it, they like the detail they, they like the challenge and as much as people give out about headline crime road traffic legislation and its enforcement is a more pressing issue than gangland crime. We all drive whereas only the select few drive-by, so to speak. Road traffic laws matter to us all. I am, for the record, completely against drink driving. I believe in a zero tolerance policy. The accidents caused are horrific and wasteful, young lives snuffed out for no reason. I believe the legislation could be clearer and that some penalties are either wrongly enforced or not actually enforced. The preference for the breath sample over blood when someone is brought to the Garda Station leaves a certain margin for drug driving and the idea of enforcing any tiredness legislation is staggering. Anyway we rise to the challenges that present themselves and the process of contesting the laws and practices cement our laws, while any increase in fatalities from new cause will necessitate new laws and provisions. It's how the legislative body reacts and evolves into what we hope will be a more perfect fit for the society that we live in. An almost organic process. While my position on drink driving is clear, my position on speeding is rather less clear. Maybe it's not so bad. Now at this point you're wondering why. Well I reckon that speeding saves the economy money. In a trip from Lurgan to Dublin, we managed to shave an impressive 15 minutes off the journey time predicted by the sat nav thingy. You scoff at 15 mins, but even at minimum wage I could earn a couple of euro in 15 mins, take into account the multiplier and what that couple of euro tranlates into economy wide now multiply that by the number of people who speed and thus save up to 30 minutes a week (that's pretty conservative). Look at what is produced by people working that saved time add that to the multiplier effect and we get a picture of people getting there sooner and living happier lives. Speeding is not so bad. In terms of road deaths, ultimately does all the people getting there earlier making them minutely happier equal out some tragic losses. This goes beyond the realm of economics but to support an otherwise untenable position I'll claim without proof that it does. The economic impact of RTA's is probably easier to measure - if we look at taxes paid on the extra time worked versus the cost of cleaning up the mess. We can figure it out. If we look at the demographic that speed the most - young people with faster cars (ie. the most productive group in society) and see what their relative production capacities in the time saved is versus the lost production capacities of the victims we could arrive at some idea of profit or loss by speeding. Martin Luther King said "An individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for the law." I like that quote. I'm not advocating speeding, I'm advocating a rational look at the real costs of not speeding. Lets not get left behind in an increasingly competitive Europe. Think with your wallet and not with your heart. Your heart will leave your children jobless.

Two seperate and distinct thoughts

2009-08-11T09:23:00.000-07:00

This probably shouldn't have made the leap to this more adult and refined blog but it did and it really only serves to point out that I'm not all that great all the time. That and testing yourself consistently requires testing others pretty consistently too. Lately i'm failing those tests. More of that in some new original blog I expect.

Firstly. It happened the other night. I was squatting. This is the scene of many of my epiphanies and before the feeling that I have discovered something new and untouched by the consciousness of others fades from my memory I want to write about it.

The preface. I'm not very strong. I'm stronger than a lot of people but if you look at the limits of human achievement or even the great number of people out there concerned with strength then by comparison I am a giddy enthusiast. So maybe this occurs to everyone as they start to lift weights that interest them, maybe not.

My own limitations aside, I was nearing the end of 5 sets of 5 reps of 130kg squatting. This is taxing. Somewhere around the 4th set a rep stuck. I lost the groove, didn't capitalise on the bounce and there I was - stuck in the half squat position. Now the epiphany didn't happen just yet. With a potentially fatal weight on you shoulder and no movement, other things were occurring to me.

I survived and completed the set. As I lay on the floor, resting before the next set it hit me, "Organisms adapt to stresses or they die". This isn't that revolutionary. What is revolutionary is the idea that maybe this realisation brought on by progressive strength training may be the simple way to get all those creationists and fundamentalists to accept evolution.

Get them in the gym. Get them training and then as the weights get interesting, Bang! We've got another convert. I don't think it can be avoided. I've struggled and failed in most things and occasionally I question my atheism. Once you're under the bar though, even if there was a god he couldn't help you. It's all you.

So there it is. Yet another use for training. My great epiphany. At the time it seemed so real, that I could change the world. Now it has slipped but there's still a chance.

Secondly. I have been the victim of a heinous crime. My left wing mirror has been taken. Just the glass and the mounting, not the actual shell attached to the car. It was taken along with the bit that covers the towing eye.

The dual nature of these thefts and the fact that the right hand side mirror wasn't taken suggest that the thief needed these for something. Possibly his own car.

That sounds reasonable enough as motivations go, but I drive an Opel Corsa. A car not known to be favoured by the criminal fraternity. In fact I would think that owning an Opel Corsa would be a blackballing offence if you were to seek membership of said fraternity. So it mystifies me to think of some elderly woman out with a screwdriver fucking with my car.

The alternative is that the vandal is smarter than I am. He anticipated this line of thought and did it just to fuck with me. Egged on by his friends to take the other mirror, he said "No, this will blow this dude's mind" and it has. I don't know what has happened, should I look suspiciously at every old lady in a Corsa or have the criminal underworld got a formidable new member? Both are terrifying concepts.

Only Batman can save us.

Down with Diageo

2009-08-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

More nuisance letter writing. Names changed.

On a recent night out I began reading the beer mats, oft times they contain pearls of wisdom beyond what you may expect. This night's nugget was that on average Guinness quality control technicians travel five million miles per year to maintain the quality of their pints. Given the piss water that we regularly get served in several pubs, maybe this is not enough.

Regardless, it raises interesting questions regarding Carbon off-setting. Having little else to do and still happy about that tenner that Miller gave me, I emailed Guinness.

"Dear Sir/Madam,

I am a fan of your fine product and indeed the fact that you have created and strengthened a uniquely Irish product. A product that is almost globally synonymous with Ireland and Irish culture.

I was therefore dismayed the other night when out for a quiet pint and reading the Guinness beer mat to see that Guinness technicians clock up a whopping five million miles annually.

There was no hint of carbon off-setting, no remorse for what is a very unPC action in the current climate (if you'll excuse the pun).

I would hope that there are plans in place to combat this, but that maybe they go beyond the scope of a beer mat. If so could you please explain them to me?

Kind regards,
A devoted fan,
Conan"

Response -
"Dear Mr Conan,

Thank you for your recent email regarding the mileage of our quality technicians.

Diageo Ireland employ a strict off setting policy. Offsetting is about trying to reduce the level of carbon in the atmosphere, thus making the travel 'carbon neutral'.

Diageo Ireland make regular payments to an offsetting company, who will, for example, plant trees and invest the payment in sustainable energy projects in non-EU nations.

We also provide a quality department for our trade customers over the telephone which reduces the number of calls our quality technicians are required to make.

The majority of the vehicles on the road associated with Diageo Ireland are sub-contracted companies and they too employ a strict off setting policy.

Diageo Ireland is committed to sustaining the environment.

Kind Regards,

Zillie2.0
Diageo Consumer Careline"

Rebuttal -
"Zillie2.0,

Thank you for taking the time to answer my query.

I wonder if I could impose on you even more to ask what off-setting companies you use? Also if I could ask, is it a contract agreement that sub-contractors subscribe to this environmental policy?

I know this may seem a lot of trouble, but I don't think I could enjoy a Guinness in good conscience knowing that my actions may indirectly contribute to global warming.

Thanks in advance,
Conan"

The sweet fuck off -
"Dear Mr Conan,

Thank you for your recent email.

Unfortunately I cannot provide any information regarding our contracts as they are confidential agreements.

We operate a no names policy in Diageo so I am unable to provide you with information regarding outside companies that we use.

I hope that you continue to enjoy our products.

Kind Regards,

Zillie2.0
Diageo Consumer Careline"

Right back at you, bitch -
"Zillie2.0,

I am afraid that I may no longer be able to enjoy your products. Sorry.

Conan"

You'd be wrong if you thought I cared, even a little.

Memories of a loyal friend

2009-08-11T09:17:00.000-07:00


	I have a tendency to not really open up to people. I'll keep stuff to myself, avoid letting people actually getting to know me. In the off chance that I tell one person something, just to nullify that, I'll tell everyone. In my own mind at least it limits how deeply connected we are. It stops me starting to care. In a strange way I take a silly pride in this. I wear a certain outward stoicism, or an even more disconnected outward enthusiasm that I just don't feel. Work is always an example of this. I have a pretty good telephone manner but it's all just the same repeated conversations with the same standard responses and reciprocal conversations thrown in. I'm not really there a lot of the time. It always surprises me then when something actually gets to me. The big stuff not so much, but the little things. I started going to the gym with Eoin (Eoin has not died, on rereading it sounds this way) many years ago. I think it was the summer after we left Salesians. We met Donna, Ruth and Jacqui in the hall as we were wandering in. Ruth was painting. The picture is still there. Soon after we began regularly working out I started skipping. I couldn't do it very well. The rope was a little long and people didn't roll it up properly. I persevered, I finally got one minute uninterrupted. Then five. Now it's just one of those things, I don't think when I do it. I was forced to think and remember when Dublin Airport Security took my skipping rope. What the fuck could I do with a skipping rope? The clumsy fucks missed the two bottles of shampoo I had in my bag. Training has become a large part of my life, it's part of how I define myself. Since I started the methodologies that I have used have changed and been refined and changed again. I have eventually come to this point. For this entire journey I had my skipping rope. A perfect blue rope, of the Henry Cooper model. Made by the good people at Taurus. The handles were smooth with sweat and hand grease. Far from disgusted this felt like home. The loss I feel isn't epic and it isn't something I'll whisper on my deathbed but I have lost my favourite piece of workout kit and now I have to break in a new one. Farewell my friend, you're helping Angels improve muscle tone and coordination with relatively low impact workouts now. Via Con Dios

Moments of truth

2009-08-11T09:14:00.001-07:00

Flow is that mental state you get to when you're enjoying an activity. Time flies by and all that. This is a text message sent to a friend of mine when I had an experience entirely the opposite of this.

"I've hidden from you many of the things that truly bother me, the things that frustrate and depress me don't fit neatly in the dynamic of our relationship. But in in my adult life, TJ has brought me as close to tears as any other experience. So many failed HPU's, 40.50. I feel like shit."

TJ is the name of a workout.
HPU stands for handstand push up.
40.50 is nearly double what I think this workout should take to accomplish.

I'm rarely honest or open and when I am I'm loud and the meaning gets lost. This was refresshing if only to me.

2009-08-11T09:05:00.000-07:00

	Written while in work about nobody in particular it could apply to any number of girls I have known and who for my own sanity I see less of now. I've felt like this before and I feel like this again. There's a dark part of me filled only with hate. It is fuelled by the part of me that can care. It is the only constant.
	You’re poison. The sweetest poison I could ever taste. I’ll drink you down and know the damage you do but still I want more. You’re the interesting, funny girl next-door type who’ll share your troubles and mine. The type of person who makes friends easily, who draws them close, not as close as they think they are, but close. How could they not fall for your easy charm, and entirely unintimidating person? In your wake you’ll leave a string of broken hearts and poor saps that think that maybe there’s still a chance. An ever-growing group of men with one crippling addiction in common. Maybe they’ll form a support group. Tell their stories and cry on shoulders. Probably not, they’ll think of ways to let you know how special you are to them. They’ll always be there, every Friday and Saturday when you go out. Desperately casual, hoping that you notice them. Doomed to never be noticed. What is funny, and maybe just, is that eventually you’ll fall for someone, not one of them someone else. Someone who’ll treat you poorly, who’ll neglect you and you’ll love him for it. WE will look on and somewhere in the part of our hearts not filled with love for you, the darker part, feel that he has avenged us. We’ll secretly thank him and secretly hope that now you’ll notice. If you think this is about you, you're wrong

Every now and then

2009-08-11T08:59:00.000-07:00


	... I get a little bit lonely etc etc. Got in a weird mood the other night. Felt very nostalgic sort of. Smells and films and the like just trigger these feelings that feel so much like I remember the old feelings feeling like. I used to swim on a Sunday evening and then I would get some apple tart from my grandmother and then I would come home and sit a around and watch TV (just RTE in those days) and go to bed a little early - cos it was Sunday. Later after we had more than RTE I'd stay up later but that memory of the mood - the level of tiredness and the love of a really thin crust apple tart just sort of sticks with me. The remembered mood of the other night wasn't this one - I hadn't been swimming. But it was a mood I'd been in before. Rather than fight this mood and try to make my evening productive I embraced it and put Highlander (the original film) on. This brought it all back. The mood took hold and I became lethargic and not fun to be around (more so than usual). More to the point - I love that film. We are introduced to many characters, and given just a little bit of information about them to make them real to me. From Garfield the closet homosexual police officer, the hot dog vendor who has built a rapport with the police so far as he can joke about them, to the marine guy who tries to kill the Kurgen. The dialogue is revealing without becoming a pedantic narrative. More though than all of this, I love that in every "modern fight" he finds an opportunity to pick up a bar and seems to do better with it than with his sword - the first fight against Fezziel in the car park he gets unarmed and picks up some sort of bar from a fire extinguisher thing - Fezziel then runs away? The next fight is when Brenda follows him and the Kurgen attacks - he swings a hosepipe but then Brenda throws him a pipe and he knocks the Kurgen around a bit - the Kurgen then runs away when the police show up. Next we have fight that starts on the Silvercup roof top and ends in the warehouse. They fall through the upper window and highlander becomes disarmed. Kurgen kicks McLeod around and is about to take his head when Brenda thwocks him with a pipe. Kurgen is naturally pissed and is about to seek a terrible revenge when McLeod steps in and the action kicks into high gear. Fuck yeah. What I love about this ties in with the previous comment, you can see the strings when he's up in the air - honest to god strings. When Kurgen appears to take Ramirez' head there is a sudden storm which you know is some guy with a light flicking it on and off, the two man demolition of the castle. Fuck the film even had Sean Connery complaining about haggis. Genius. All these things combine to make a pretty enjoyable 80's film but what makes this a cut above the rest, pardon the pun, is Christopher Lambert's voice/laugh. I leave you with this - Garfield "You a faggot Nash?" McLeod "Why Garfield - you cruisin' for a piece of ass?" Conan Hehehe The original comments on this blog noted that I made no mention of the soundtrack, or the lovescene. I realise they are also great but I make no apologies for getting genuinely excited and typing.

Modern Offices

2009-08-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

A trip down memory lane. Back to when I didn't have to stand out in the rain.

There is a glass room in my office. A symptom of the newness of the place, all style no substance, no commitment.

Just four glass walls, it's a meeting room.

I just can't shake the idea that it'd be really funny to lock a mime artist in there.

Little black hands unironically banging on the glass. In un-mime like frustration trying to break the glass.

Eventually falling to the floor and sobbing - audibly.

I would laugh my ass off.

Conan
Smiling

Metabolic realignement

2009-08-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

This is an effort in bullshit. Big unfamiliar words are used and an incomplete understanding is pushed forward. It predates my reading of badscience.net and my idea to market the high salt diet for rapid weight loss. It just sort of amuses me.

Metabolic realignment is the rather complicated name given to something which is quite simple.

A little background understanding is probably necessary but I will try to keep it brief.

The human body is one of the most complicated and intricate arrangement of organic matter on the planet. This complexity has been forged by millennia of adapting to the changes around us be it climate, food supply, disease and any other number of hazards that as a species we have bested. The few who survived each catastrophe have passed on the traits that helped them survive so that now were that same catastrophe to strike our population would have a much higher chance of survival. With each new setback came the tools to beat it and so we were made stronger.

One of these setbacks would have been food shortages. In the case of famine in a land it makes sense that those who would have been able to survive on less food for longer would have weathered this rough patch and then thrived in times of plenty. This was an issue of metabolism, something we as athletes are interested in increasing to speed recovery times, and calorie usage.

We have all at one stage or another been told that a weights workout will raise the metabolism for longer or increased muscle mass will increase our base metabolic rate. These things are broadly true but frequently exaggerated. A higher metabolic rate is attainable which is good news for anyone in sport or who just wants to look better and have a fuller diet.

However by the same token, as a result of our evolution our metabolic rate can drop. Our bodies entering a starvation mode where with less consumed calories cells with start consuming muscle protein and generally reducing the size and average calorie expenditure of the organism. Like a company who fires staff to protect the company as a whole, certain that in times of plenty it can rebuild.

This catabolism often starts to kick in sports ruled by weight categories; my experience is in the realm of sub wrestling and mma. I have seen fighters drop large amounts of weight through sensible and not so sensible means.

In theory the best way to drop weight is to eliminate starchy products from the diet while keeping wholesome fruit and veg in meals along with nutritious ph neutral proteins. This diet coupled with smaller portions served much more regularly (ever 1.5 to 2 hours) should make losing weight easier and avoid the onset of starvation mode. Shortly before the event more drastic measures may need to be taken, this is referred to as cutting weight, and may include water loss and fasting. These occasions should be minimized and for maximum performance should be used for only the barest weight loss.

If you have failed to lose and subsequently cut weight properly or even, if in these endeavours caused a starvation mode to kick in, then you may need to realign your metabolism before you return to training.

The first stage of this will be to raise the calorie consumption to previous levels; given the calorie lockdown your body is now in this may result in sudden weight gain. This will more than likely express itself as fat. It is not uncommon to see a fighter drop weight, and then return to his pre-competition weight only to have changed his make up to one of increased body fat. Often times this has minimal impact on strength and is predominantly an appearance thing, but were this cycle to be repeated then the athlete could find himself at the same weight but with far more fat and far less muscle and as a result – strength.

Stage two therefore is to hit the weights and hit them hard. Most athletes should be engaged in some resistance training, if for no other reason than to prevent injury and round out imbalances created by the sport they are engaged in. The need to regain the muscle lost in the weight loss process is obvious in relation to maintaining strength and to maintain the momentum of improved performance as a result of athletic training. This increase in size coupled with the comedown off starvation mode may bring with it fat gain but a more intelligent approach to weight loss this time round should reduce the need for metabolic realignment

People will let you down

2009-08-11T08:49:00.000-07:00

	I like this blog. Unashamedly. I also like my rowing machine.
	To avoid this I have decided to give things names. Bear with me. A person can let you dow, you can form expectations of them, make assumptions, concoct a fantasy in your head that will ultimately be shattered by their own shortcomings. Hell, I'm a complete fucktard. I let people down everyday in dazzlingly inventive ways. Such is my talent they don't believe that I can disappoint them any further. So I give to you, Kate. Kate is my rowing machine. Kate is not invincible, but Kate came with a user's manual, repair guide, a full list of things not to be attmepted, and a two year parts warranty. What friend can claim all that? There is no guess work with Kate. There is even a handy little display on her that lets me know how to use her. I know the weight tolerances. Who else can say that? Beyond all this, there is a bond. I give to Kate what she needs and she gives to me an easy to calculate return on time and effort invested in her. People are random. People will let you down. Not Kate. Not ever. The only way that she can fail is if I neglect her. How could I neglect someone like that? Conan The line is blurring

Not for the faint of heart

2009-08-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

Not much else to say.

This is pretty much a day in the life, it is being written on the fly, you'll get what I type and that is it. Something of an effort in Gonzo journalism in honour of the good doctor.

I was awoken this morning by shouting. This was approximately 08.45. It was my dad shouting. My awesome strength (bear this in mind) was needed to help deliver a calf. Not in the An Post sense either.

Nature had fucked this cow over, and the calf was coming backwards.

A quick note on reproductive biology - animals are generally born head first, actually preceded by the forelimbs. When this does not happen it's like trying to put the wide end of a wedge into the crack to split the log. Not good.

A quick note on calving jacks - basically a winch that that butts against the animals hind quarter and pulls the young out by means of attaching ropes to the ankles, above the knuckle. (Awesome strength required)

I arrived on scene to note that the calving process had been going on for some time (not good - fatigue, closing of the cervix and the potential death of the calf). We applied the jack and began.

Archimedes never envisaged the application of leverage to the tail end of a cow, with me as the prime mover. We jacked, the tension built, little or no movement. We jacked more. Some movement, slowly and surely we jacked - CRACK. The ropes had tightened so much that one leg had snapped, not off but broken.

The only recourse, is to move the ropes up, above the knees. So we did and again began to apply pressure. Even if the animal is dead it still has to come out. Slow and steady pressure, slow and steady ratcheting. CRACK!!!

A break above the knee.

It is worth pointing out that the calf was in our estimation dead at this stage. The vet was called, in the belief that he might cut the calf into sections internally and remove him in such a fashion (I've assigned a gender for simplicity).

The vet arrived nearly an hour later, a drug called oxytocin was administered which aids the natural process of pushing out the remaining placenta. This and some further jacking removed the calf intact.

This is where it got messy. It appears that the calf had been misshapen and mutated. It had malformed fore legs, a compacted neck and no spine/ribs from the calf equivalent of T1 - S1. With this there was no muscular wall around the abdomen and the contents of the calf spilled freely across the floor. He had it would appear been dead for quite some time and had he not he would not have made it.

After this I went home and had breakfast, being in a rush earlier on. I had peanut butter and porridge because I had no kiwi to make a smoothie.

I do pilates on a sunday morning with some friends. Then I lifted some weights, maxing out at 110kg front squat for one rep after a sizable build up (I strongly recommend Crossfit to everyone).

A meal (mango smoothie and boiled egg) followed, a shower next and I was on my way to town. I arrived in town about 17.45. Posted a letter and went to the hard rock for an overpriced but tasty steak. Our waitress was pleasant but a little on the skinny side for my particular tastes.

I ate and left to go to the cinema. Smokin' Aces, never has a film with so cool a set up, so many great moments and characters failed to deliver. A tad disappointing.

Ran a little through town, cardio not up to much. Got a bus home. Wrote this.

All this actually happened.

A war with public transport

2009-08-11T08:31:00.000-07:00

Many of my letters make it sound as if I had something better to be doing than standing around. I did not have anything better to do. I now get paid for standing around and with a glint in my eye sometimes hark back to when I did it in an amateur capacity. This was also the first letter which resulted in me getting anything. I haven't spent the voucher but that's hardly the point. The guy who wrote the response was probably on about €15 an hour and I wasted 15mins of his day on top that.

So here it is, one morning my train was late. Very late. The funniest part of the morning was when they announced that the next train would be direct to Heuston, then a completely empty train sailed past. This left the entire crowd, 150 strong I estimate, swearing.

My letter:

Customer Relations Department,
Southern and Western,
Heuston Station,
Dublin 8

Conan,
Champion of the people
Land of Make Believe

23 Oct. 06

Ref. Late Train 02 Oct 06

Dear Sir/Madam,

Please find attached my train ticket and claim form for delay dated 02/10/06. My "claim" is for €1.95 but this is secondary to the point. I was left waiting for a train for 2 hours.

On the morning of 02/10/06, I arrived at the train station to find that my train was running late, the announcement over the pa informed myself and fellow commuters that the train would be delayed by approximately thirty minutes This figure gradually increased over the ensuing two hours until eventually an over packed train arrived and sped into Heuston Station.

My grievances, aside from the obvious delay which seriously impacted my plans for the day, are as follows:

1. The incessant apologising of the P.A. system. This sounds terribly ingenuous especially after the second or third time that it lies to you about the expected delay, I, along with others, came to doubt the veracity of Iarnrod Eireann's remorse. I believe that Iarnrod Eireann may not want to lose customers, have its reputation tarnished or indeed spend money and time on a broken train but after two hours I am certain that they are not sorry, and have given the matter little thought since.

2. The paltry token apology to those left standing at the train station. The train station in Celbridge is somewhat removed from the town, and the feeder bus service the least funny joke told in many an age, this means that if you commit to getting the train and the train does not come; you cannot easily opt for an alternative conveyance to the city centre. This is truly inconvenient when the train is over two hours late. In apology for this, we were given the chance to recover our ticket price, in my case €1.95. This does not take into account the two hours of work that I missed or other inconveniences that are not so easily quantifiable such as missing breakfast, having to move meetings around my schedule etc. And for all this, I am given a half-hearted apology and the chance to get €1.95 back at the cost of a postage stamp - net return €1.47.

3. Aside from this is the seeming lack of a contingency plan, I can accept that trains break down, and being the national rail service I can assume that Iarnrod Eireann can appreciate this far more intimately than I could ever hope to. However despite this supposed insight into the inevitability of train failure, no obvious contingency plan seems to be in place. Maybe I am wrong, maybe this two hour delay was the result of a masterfully executed contingency plan brought off with military precision and a certain understated panache that the poor souls left waiting can never appreciate. Please enlighten me.

4. That this is not the first time a train has been delayed, it is however the most pronounced. As a regular commuter, I get the early morning train every day and it is late at least once every fortnight. Late in this instance is considered to be more than 15mins, anything less than this the commuter is expected to take on the chin. For shame.

5. That the train upon its eventual arrival sped at an alarming rate to Heuston. I do not object to moving fast. I must assume though that the train does not usually move at this speed due to some safety concerns. As the rail traffic in the opposite direction was still moving I can only be convinced that the danger was only marginally reduced. Was our safety put at risk in an attempt to save face? Or are we routinely subjected to meandering train journeys?

I feel I may be in the minority in actually reclaiming my ticket price, and in even smaller a minority in voicing my upset at this latest travesty. However I take solace in knowing that I am representative of a much larger opinion base.

It is this opinion base that will be called upon to eventually decide on the opening of the market for public transport, and it cannot be expected that the public will support a provider that so consistently lets its customers down.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Faithfully,

Conan

The reply (there was one middle letter referred to earlier, telling me a reply was coming, but it lends nothing tot he story):

Dear Mr. Conan,

Thank you for your regarding in connection with your journey on the morning of Monday 2nd October 2006. Please accept my apologies for the sever delays to services which were due to the failure of the 06:30 Carlow to Heuston service between Newbridge and Sallins.

With the failed train blocking the line and all services behind it, it took some time to safely get the next train attached to the failed train and push-it into Sallins, where a fresh locomotive could be attached to allow the Carlow train to proceed on its way and for all other services to make their way Heuston.

We are looking at how we can improve our contingency planning and communication plans to deal with these exceptional circumstances in order to limit the extent of delays resulting from such mechanical failures.

In relation to your comment about the speed of the trains in operation on the morning of Monday 2nd of October 2006, please be assured that at all times Iarnrod Eireann adheres to all speed and safety guidelines as directed by the Department of Transport.

Under our customer charter, passengers delayed over two hours are entitled to a full refund on the affected journey. Under the Customer Charter the refund due on your ticket is €1.95, however as a gesture of goodwill I have enclosed travel vouchers to the value of €5.00. Travel vouchers can be used as discount for future travel at any Booking Office throughout the Iarnrod Eireann network.

Again, I would like to apologise for the delay you experienced and for any inconvenience caused.

Yours Sincerely,

Lidar
Customer Relations Department Southern and Western

Boo Yah motherfucker!

Another win for The People.

Visited the NABBA qualifiers

2009-08-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

This blog didn't make the transitional cut.

The essence of it being I think bodybuilding is a sport. I see no problems with drug use and as with most sports I think the race is won long before the event by genetics. Everyone is juicin'.

I did express some reservations about fake tan and the posing briefs.

My first real driving experience

2009-08-11T08:13:00.000-07:00


	I have since been driving for some time, even miraculously getting a full licence. I've killed several other animals but this really stands out. Mainly because of the speed. I was at my most careful and could not stop. Everything since then has been a furious race car pace and the animal looks to have been trying his luck. No heart and no luck. I'm not cruel just reckless and fallible. Via Con Dios. I have recently taken up driving. I can no longer, it would appear anyway, hide behind a mask of enviro-conscious non-committal laissez faire dithering like this sentence. I must learn it would appear. So on my first night out a police car pulled across in front of me with no prior warning and without so much as a how do you do. I steeled myself against this and continued on this road, at I might point out only 45kmph. It was at this point that the meanest cat that I've ever seen stepped into the road. He looked like one of those grizzled old cowboys that Clint Eastwood plays. Rheumy old eye, chunk missing from his ear and a permanent leer. Now maybe this cat was convinced that there was no traffic as I held it back for the best part of twenty minutes at my learners pace or maybe he was the ballsiest S.O.B. of a cat ever to walk the planet. Whatever his intention He looked me straight in the eye and did not move. I drove on, still he did not move, I could not swerve either into the children playing or the oncoming traffic and the car behind me was so close, with the frustration of following in my speed, that I could not brake. Thump!! The cat, he is no more. The children, they did not look happy. I kept on driving. Maybe the cat after a life full of pleasures, cat pleasures, felt it time to end it in a dignified act befitting the dignity he had always tried to live his life with. Fuck it anyway, I don't like cats.

A less entertaining conversation with 98FM

2009-08-11T08:02:00.000-07:00

Still sitting in an office scrambling to look busy. This was a far less fulfilling experience than my conversation with Dublin Bus. Again the names have been changed. I supposed if anyone really cared I could furnish them with the names. The lies and fiction mentioned are those lies told to the customer service drone, not to you. To you I am unrelentingly truthful.

Much of this is lies and fiction (fiction is a lie that doesn't hurt anyone, and may even make you rich)

Again written in work.

Dear Sir/madam,

My name is Conan, Champion of the People, I am writing to you in connection with the "98fm
fugitive" promotion.

Before I address my complaint allow me to explain, briefly, my beliefs regarding censorship. Put simply I do not believe in censorship. I do believe that we should, as a society protect the innocence of children and encourage their growth at a healthy rate. It is in this sense that I agree with the watershed and possible curtailing of certain adverts in child focused media. I do not see myself as being overly strict on this, but some standards must apply.

Beyond the above proviso I believe that anyone should be free to represent any opinion on the public airwaves, assuming that the legal system is empowered to prosecute those who would broadcast falsehoods or unjustified attacks on character. With these checks and balances in place I believe a free media can exist alongside a government in control of its people.

I apologise for the digression above, I felt though that you should know my feelings on the media so that my complaint may be in context. I am writing in relation to the " fugitive" promotion. My issue with this is that I have been accosted while minding my own business on several occasions, ten in fact over three different days. On the first day I was unaware of what the enquiries were about. Having since listened to one of your evening shows, I believe I understand. I accept that you should be allowed run an adult treasure hunt. However your inane presenter with his trusty female sidekick urges members of the public to ask as many people as possible if they are
the "98fm fugitive". This I believe crosses a line, the broadcast I listened to was pointless, unfunny and of a base sense of humour but to each his own. This show and subsequent advertisements urge the pestering of bystanders.

It would seem that if you are alone in a bookshop, or even making a phone call that people feel justified in accosting me and demanding of me in clipped English "you-de-98fum-fugive" . This has happened on several occasions and not once has the individuals involved excused themselves
or indeed conducted themselves with any social grace.I am not alone in being pestered by these latter day treasure seekers and I am convinced that I am not alone in being irritated by it. I realise that one complaint about your listeners behaviour may not stop you encouraging them to brutalize every passerby, but the onus rests on you to respect the privacy of others who may not wish to play your game. As I said above I do not believe in censorship, the strongest I would exercise is to change station on the radio, but you will not allow me escape.

I realise that little will come of this, you will not stop the competition and probably the encouragements will become more frenzied as the promotion draws to an end (an end that I hope is soon). I may yet lodge this complaint with the BCI but initially I hope that you will exercise more care in devising future promotions, mindful of the ways they affect others.

Yours Sincerely,

Conan,
Champion of the People

A pretty grovelling response, I would have put me in my place. Zaldar wouldn't have taken that crap.

Hi Conan,

Thank you for contacting 98FM. I am sorry that you feel this way about this promotion. It has brought much entertainment to many Dubliners. You will be happy to know that the promotion finished on Friday gone therefore you should not hear much about it in the future.

Again I am sorry that you were put out by this promotion.

Kind Regards

Zillie
Marketing Manager
98FM

Conversations with Dublin Bus

2009-08-11T07:46:00.000-07:00

This was written back in the heady days of having an office job where nobody knew what I was supposed to be doing or if whatever I was supposed to be getting done was getting done. Names have been removed or edited to make it read better and to some degree protect my anonymity.

Dear Sir,

I am a frequent traveller on Dublin bus and Iarnrod Eireann and after a considerable number of trips I have a few questions that I would greatly appreciate your help with.

These questions have come about after a conversation borne of noticing that the hammer for use in emergencies on the bottom deck of my bus this morning was in fact missing. This was shortly followed by the realisation that on many of your buses these hammers have gone missing, either by theft or misadventure.

My first question is then: Is the hammer required by law and if so why are they not replaced?

This line of conversation led to the breaking of glass. I am curious to know what type of glass is used in Dublin bus buses? In particular, is it shatter resistant? If so can such a small hammer (when present) actually break through in the event of an emergency? If the glass is not shatter
resistant, then surely this poses a greater threat to passenger safety, in the form of blinding and cutting than the statistically unlikely event of an overturned bus. I would of course appreciate as detailed an answer as possible so if you need to refer this email to someone more closely
connected with health&safety or construction I will understand.

As minds are frequently wont to do, this conversation continued along a morbid path of terrible scenarios. Chief among these was what would necessitate escape through the back window, we concluded (perhaps incorrectly, and if you have any more reasonable explanations please advise)
that it would occur in an overturn situation. In regards to this I am curious to know what is the maximum angle that a bus can achieve before overturn. For instance if a bus were to hit a pavement or a small embankment and be raised off the ground on one side, what is the maximum angle before it would topple? Is this angle the same on each side of a bus, or is the weight spread unevenly?

I notice of course that there are several types of bus on the road, from the older (seemingly more rickety) bus to modern versions with ramp access for wheelchairs, extra rack space for buses to and from Heuston station, several variations on the theme of central doors and many different types of safety railing. If you could apply the above questions to each bus type I would be very much obliged.

In the vein of accidents and so on, I must ask about the fuel tank. Firstly are buses run on diesel or petrol? Secondly how many litres does each bus type carry on average? Third, where in the bus is the fuel tank located?

I do hope this is not too much trouble and I realise I may have to wait some time for you to collate this information.

Yours sincerely,

Conan

Champion of the people

The response, took the wind out of my sails

Conan,

Hammers are a requirement on some buses and are there for assistance on others. Hammers are regularly taken from buses and are constantly being replaced. The hammer is very effective at breaking the glass in an emergency.

The type of glass used in the windows of our buses is toughened safety glass. As required by regulation this does not break into large pieces or shards which would be likely to cause serious injury.

The rear window escape would generally be used in the event of a bus overturning or where both sides of the bus were blocked off in an accident.

A double deck vehicle must tilt to a minimum angle of 28 degrees before toppling. Obviously the maximum is dependent on a number of items which affect the height of the centre of gravity e.g. loading etc. Therefore it is only possible to specify the minimum angle.

Our vehicles run on diesel and a typical double deck carries between 250 and 350 litres. Fuel tanks are generally located on the off-side (drivers side)

Zaldar

Administration Officer

Public Affairs Department

Ph 7033160

Feel free to call or contact this guy with any queries you may have about Dublin bus.