Dubya v Saddam.

Live on television......now that would be a quality program and one I would pay to see. However, I can't help thinking it would be a little unfair. We have a man who has a questionable grasp of the English language, he is unstable and thinks nothing of slaughtering his own people, and let's face it...... Saddam Hussein also has problems. Fuck it ! Put it on anyway, I'd like to hear what Saddam would have to say, and if it was live he would be uncensored. Failing that I think we should have a three-way battle to the death. Blair, Bush and Hussein in a captain Kirk style battle arena. The winner gets his own show on channel 5.

Oh my god....

they killed Kenny.

I have added two more blogs to the list of places to go. They have been in my favourites for too long, so now they are where they should be. I suspect most of you have already been to see them both.

Hobsons choice.

Tracy calls me Imelda, in reference to the “enormous amount of shoes you have” (her words) I obviously plead innocence and site the following in mitigation:

I have shoes that I wore over ten years ago, women go through shoes at a rate akin to men eating pies. I therefore have amassed shoes over the years. Of the shoes that I wear now only a handful of pairs can be classed as an out and out shoe. I have trainers, pumps, sandals, flip-flops, deck shoes, boots and a few that fall into no category that I can define. I have, however, only one pair of black shoes. So, when I saw the ones in the shoe shop this evening I couldn’t resist them.

Imelda indeed !

Poetry and Red Rum.

I read quite a lot of contemporary poetry, there are some I like and some I don't. Today I have been listening to Eminem and, even if you don't like his politics, you have to admire his lyrics. The rhymes are breathtaking, the way he uses language is fresh and eye opening. These words stand alone, without music they are just as potent. I suppose the music gives them their context, but just read them for yourself......you decide.

On the morning of the 1974 Grand National we (Mum Dad and me) went to visit my Auntie Marge and Uncle George. During the course of conversation the subject turned to the days big race, my Uncle George asked me who I thought would win, I said I knew Red Rum would win it. My Dad said that there was no way it would win, as it had won the previous year. My Uncle George said he was going to go with my hunch, so he backed it and he put a ten pence win on for me as well. Red Rum romped home to make history with consecutive wins (he went on to win a third in 1977 after finishing second in 1975 and 1976). I got £1.20, which was a fortune for an eight year old, but more important than the cash was an adult who had listened to what I had said, which is priceless to an eight year old. I have no idea how much George won, and now I'll never know.

This post is dedicated to George.

The first cut is the deepest.

I'm not an old fashioned person, but when it comes to my hairstyle I'm pretty much stuck in my ways. I think in my whole life I've had maybe four different hairstyles, so when Tracy made me an appointment for a re-style you can imagine my trepidation. What made it worse was that it wasn't at a "barbers" it was at Da Vinci's, a salon right in the middle of town. I had visions of quiffs and highlights and all manner of strange accoutrements being used to make me look like a complete twat. Justin, the stylist, made his recommendations and got on with it. During the operation, which took about three times longer than it does at the barbers, I noticed a couple of differences to the normal Saturday morning clip. Firstly, at the point where you normally chat about motorbikes and holidays, we chatted instead about Eastenders, Kittens and clothes shopping in London and Manchester. I should have known it was going to be different when I was told about the time someone came into the salon for directions to the bookies, and no one knew. One thing that never changes is holding up the mirror to show you the back of your own head, and when I saw what a good job Justin had made I became a convert. It's altogether a nicer experience, and well worth a few extra quid.

Don’t look back in anger.

You know, all sentimental bollocks aside, mulling over past choices can have some benefits. If you try and analyse a series of events just once more, you can come to new conclusions, new insights into your inner self. It’s like a cryptic crossword, you can look at a clue and not have the foggiest idea of what it is you’re aiming for, but get a couple of the letters in place and something can jump out at you. But then maybe you’re still not sure, so you move on to another clue. When you come back a little later and re-read the clue you may see a different meaning in a word, and so it can be with memories. I think this is true more as we get older, we have different outlooks than our younger selves, and can sometimes see what we failed to notice back when the memories where fresh. I’m not advocating a world where we are all stuck in the past, we need to balance past and future by ensuring we are anchored in the here and now, but I think a little nostalgia is a good thing. If we can learn from our own histories, then we can look others in the eye when we accuse them of not learning from theirs.

Walls and bridges.

Nightshift is always a good time for deep thought and introspection, and tonight is no exception. Its been niggling at the back of my mind for a while, and until tonight I couldn’t articulate it properly, but I think I’ve come up with a pretty good way to get my thoughts across.

I have been seeing life as a series of bridges to be crossed, each one is representative of a decision in my life, and the question to cross or not is asked. Of course once crossed the question of whether to burn that particular bridge or not is also asked. I know it’s not always a simple yes or no answer to most of life’s questions, but you can boil any argument down to two outcomes, Hamlet managed to come up with that one. This sequence of thoughts was brought about by my recollections of how I ended up in Cumbria, and the coincidences that fell into place on that path. If I look back over the last fifteen years or so, I can see specific points in my life that set me on the path to moving my family, lock stock and two thirty six gallon barrels, one hundred and fifty miles north and away from all our family and friends. A set path with bridges both burned and intact, and invariably there have been walls, barriers, obstacles…call them what you will, there have been walls that have stopped me from getting to where I wanted to be. These walls were also instrumental in me arriving where I am today, and I can see those quite clearly in the past as well. Something as simple as someone else’s alarm clock not going off was a link in the chain, and if I hadn’t worked a couple of hours overtime a few years prior to that alarm clock failure, a resulting conversation might never have taken place. Who knows where I would be now ? There is a school of thought that says all decisions are played out in an infinite number of parallel universes, maybe in one of those universes I don’t have a weblog and you don’t exist, or maybe in another universe you wrote this and it’s me sat reading it.

In the summer of 1987 there was a turning point of sorts, I was sat on the steps of a footbridge over railway lines in Towyn north Wales. It was dusk and I had taken the dog for a walk, we were on holiday with most of Tracy’s family in a caravan. I sat down on the top step facing the sea, it was my intention to watch the sun go down and chill out for a while. The dog lay down next to me the way dogs do and we waited until day turned into night. It started with a bit of a whimper, the first flash was weak and far away, but in no time at all the most spectacular electrical storm I have ever seen happened right in front of me over the Irish sea. It seemed like it was for my benefit, to make me realise how small I was, how insignificant in the grand scheme, before I knew it I was surrounded by dozens of people all watching this amazing light show, the dog never batted an eyelid. I was the first there and also the last to leave after the storm passed, as I walked back over the bridge I made a decision, it was the first link in a long chain that brought me here, and I have to say..... I wouldn't change a thing.

In retrospect this post should have been titled stream of consciousness, but then the outcome would probably have been different.

My two Dinnars.

I can't help thinking that all the marching and petitions are for nothing, Blair has made his mind up and no matter what the rest of the population says he is going to follow Dubya on his crusade. It is a crusade, to invent an enemy, and take control of a vast oil reserve in the process. It's fucking genius when you think about it, talk about killing two birds with one stone, the weapons manufacturers and oil companies will be coming in their pants. It's a bit of a coincidence that George jnr is from an oil rich family, and his daddies drinking buddies are gun toting right wing fuck heads. This is just the tip of the iceberg, and his speech about the axis of evil was just a smoke screen. Anyone who can rig an election in a country the size of the good old US of A isn't as stupid as he's made out to be. They must be really pissed off, cos Saddam isn't a proper villain, he only kills his own people, and let's face it Pol Pot was good at that and Kissinger helped him do it. I'm sure the west would love a real villain, a type of man who was dangerous on more than one continent and posed a real threat to our cosy way of life. Saddam can get us indirectly by terrorist actions, but he's never done anything like that before. So our government has conveniently given us a link between Saddam and Osama Bin Laden. Presumably the old maxim "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" is good enough to convince our leaders that we now have an unholy alliance in the middle east that should be irradicated forthwith. Well I'm sorry Tony but you're talking shite and not for the first time in the last few months. How can I put this in plain easy to understand words ? I'll try: " We have nothing to worry about from Saddam Hussein or his people" maybe that's a little too difficult.....How about this; "wanna spend the rest of your political life on the opposition back bench ? then carry on regardless".

Time.

A while ago I had this idea. I thought it would be interesting to resurect it and have a go with a wider audience. If you fancy a go, just construct a graphical representation of how you perceive time, then email me the finished article in either gif or jpeg format, (no size restrictions will apply but try and keep it as small as you can without detracting from the overall impact) I will post them on a page similar to the one above. I think the experiment will mean much more if a larger group participate. Oh, and if you could also give me a short explanation about your view of time, it may make the whole thing more interesting.

10p mix-up.

Right, lets see what we have in the bag……..

1. Office wisdom.
2. The real third way.
3. A poem.
4. Remember when ?
5. Numbers.
6. Another world.
7. Cover up.
8. Tell tomorrow about now.
9. Puzzle.
10. Billy.

Bugger !

I had promised to post some photos of the shop, unfortunately my digi camera has bit the dust. It seems to suck all the life out of a couple of AA batteries in about four tenths of a second. I managed to take one photo, but I can't get it off the camera. I think I'm going to have to buy a new one. I should have done it weeks ago when I first said I would, if a photograph is a moment frozen in time then procrasination is actually the thief of time.......such irony just makes me quiver.

Ponderings on a supreme being.

After watching the second part of "Second Coming" last night I have been thinking a lot about god, or the lack of one. I have been an Atheist since I was about fourteen, it wasn't a decision I made lightly, I took at least ten minutes to decide that all the religious mumbo jumbo was just a way to get people to behave as they were told. Not bad for a teenager who’s only worry was where the next Toasted Coconut Banjo was coming from. The last twenty minutes of last night’s program had me thinking that the ending was going to be sentimental bollocks, but I was pleasantly surprised. The ending was very good, a glimpse of a less complicated world. Today I have been pondering a world without religion, and I keep thinking about the riddle of Epicurus

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

There is a gaping flaw in the riddle, but it's thought provoking none the less. More than anything it applies logic to an idea that, to me, is the least logical of human ideas, but I suppose it’s easy for an Atheist to see it like that. Here’s another question, because there is no proof that he exists, does that mean that there is no proof that he doesn’t ?

The Noam office.

Interesting essay from Noam Chomsky on the possible outcome of a war in Iraq. Via Lying media bastards.

News at Ten.

We have booked our tickets to see Mark Thomas live in Whitehaven on May 12th, and it was only £12 each.......bargain !

In the same vein as the recent meme that wasn't really a meme, what are your holy trinity of meals ? Mine are:

1.Full English breakfast.
2.Roast Lamb Sunday dinner.
3.Lamb Tikka Jalfrezi.

There are certain stipulations to the above choices, the first two must be cooked by Tracy and the curry will probably have to come from the Shapla Indian take away on Nook Street in Workington. However, Tracy's dad makes a mean cooked breakfast and there are many good curry houses in the north of England, many of which can be found in Rusholme.

My nation now has an enemy, (actually it's the tax dodger going through his Pol Pot phase), we will defend our shores to the death. We also have a possible trade relationship with this country, who may have a surplus of the valuable herbs we need to keep our land ticking over smoothly. I will give you regular updates on international relations as things develop.

In other news, I have the beginnings of a stinking cold, although why it's called a stinking cold I'll never know, I can't smell a fucking thing. My head feels altogether too large for my body, my throat is doing its best to imitate the Gobi desert and my bones feel like rubber bands. In retaliation I have just eaten a curry and I am now in the process of guzzling a large quantity of beer, that should beat it into submission.

One more thing before I slip into a drunken stupor, we bought a game cube yesterday, this brings the list of games machines to:

Dreamcast.
Game Cube.
Megadrive.
N64.
Platstation.
Playstation2.
X Box.

It's all in the name of research, we need them for the shop ! Honest !

His arms and soil are in cahoots.

Like Stuart I have been listening to The Coral, they are very good, especially Simon Diamond.......can't think why. Also The Streets, they are a little bit different to the rest of the stuff about at the mo.

I'm not doing the Friday five, but reading a couple on my daily reads has made me think of some of the music I have bought in the past. One sticks out more than any other, it was the day I started going out with Tracy. 16th Jan 82, my dad gave me a tenner for my 16th birthday the following Saturday, I wanted it earlier to catch some of the post Christmas deals in Manchester's record shops. On the Friday I asked Tracy if she wanted to go to Manchester so she asked her mum, who after some gentle cajoling agreed (foolish woman for believing I had pure intentions towards her eldest daughter). We wandered aimlessly around Manchester city centre and eventually we ended up in Robinson's records, I bought The Beatles White album, I still have it with all the photos and the poster and it remains one of my all time favourites to chill out to.

As for my first album, I can delve into the mists of time and recall buying Sladest Slade on tape, Christmas 1973 we were on holiday in Ilfracombe, I thought Noddy Holder was a fucking geezer, although I don't recall articulating it quite that way at the time.

Break you mouse.

Try this, it's good, I recommend the darts.

Plagiarist ? Me ?

Just to put the record straight, a couple of years ago before I had heard of blogging I started an editorial on pravda88. In March of that year I posted this, and later that year in November I posted this. I am still quite pleased with some of the stuff that I put on pravda88 even though it's really amateur and very plain. Even though the site has been mothballed all the old stuff is still there, you just need the url.

Sorry Gert, I know you were only poking fun, but you know us blokes we're an insecure lot.

Blogstrop.

I've just swapped bloghop for Blogstrop, it suits my mood a little better. I'm not really sure why I had the little voting boxes anyway, it's not as if I give a toss what other people think. So anyway, if you feel the same Blogstrop is for you. Feel free to nick it if you want.

Hail to the chief.

Thanks to Pinky I now have my own country to rule. My dream of presidency has become a reality.

Supermarket stress.

Why oh why oh fucking why do checkout operators leave the bastard conveyor belt going when you are trying to pack your shopping ? A complete logjam ensues as more and more stuff piles up at the bottom of the little shute thing. Bread gets squashed by tins, bottles roll onto eggs, and just as you manage against all the odds to actually get something into a fucking carrier bag along comes a butternut squash to bollocks it all up. And what does the checkout person do while you struggle with your Sisyphean task ? She sits and smiles the smile of someone who either couldn't give a flying fuck what happens to your food, or of one who doesn't have the mental capacity to scan and talk at the same time. Mind you, other shoppers are just as mentally challenged, they stand deep in thought about which tin of chopped Tomatoes to buy and leave their trolley across the whole fucking isle, if I said excuse me once, I said it a hundred fucking times.....and these fucking idiots look at you like you've just stabbed mother Theresa, I just want a little space to manoeuvre my trolley, is it such a fucking difficult thing to do ? If the ordeal of the shoppers/checkout isn't enough, when you try to leave the place you have the moronic drivers to contend with. You know, the ones who wait until you start to reverse before they decide to do exactly the same thing. Or the ones who believe that the rules of the road suddenly fucking change because they strayed onto Tesco car park, bastards. I think the time has come to see what online food shopping is like..........I need a drink !

Blue period.

I've been arsing about with the colour scheme again, it needed freshening up a little. Also the pictures at the top have been integrated into one image, it's our marina. The full version of the pic is in the photos section, surprisingly titled "marina". Speaking of photos, I promised some of the shop. I'll try to get them done this week and post them by next weekend.