Tag Archives: Irreverence

Taking the piss

Taking a break from packing the kitchen, I popped over to the Barclay Brothers Beano for a chuckle, and came across this story. Apparently the EU has spent two hundred million on its Ukrainian ambitions without checking its pockets or down the sofa of waste for loose change. Now it’s got the begging bowl out to the UK for an extra three point eight billion quids. Ostensibly for ‘youth and employment’, or maybe old politicians and unemployment. Blood and sand.

The expansionist bureaucratic monster that is the European Union needs to be told to fuck off in very short order. Permanently.

Back to packing.

Excuse the number of updates, but my subconscious was spluttering with incredulity more than I was.

Redistribution of wealth

I see the Pope of the Catholic Church has been making speeches about the root causes of poverty. Seriously? This from one of the richest institutions on the planet? One whose influence has been chief in keeping people poor? The only redistribution that actually goes on is directly to a specific religion. Like the redistribution of foreign aid mostly ends up lining political pockets, with only a fraction getting to its intended destination?

It’s what almost all religions are best at; keeping people on their knees in one way or another. Yet one of the most guilty parties; look up poverty rates in very religious countries for proof and see above map for poverty levels worldwide, has the unmitigated gall to hold out their begging bowl, blaming others for the state of the very people they help keep down? The people they often use as cannon fodder to further their sects own expansionist ambitions? Well let’s have three cheers for organised religion; hip-hip-hypocrasy! Yay.

As God often says when he wanders over for morning coffee, or when we go fishing with JC; “You know Bill, if I’d have thought about it enough, I wouldn’t have invented belief.” He doesn’t like organised religion either. He also says he never goes to their churches and temples because they’re too draughty and full of people demanding something for nothing. Rather like the Pope and all similar functionaries.

How many more times – it’s a bad idea

Look, we know big Government is broke. The all conquering Godzilla flat busted and continually bleeding from a million leaking capillaries, fed on by an army of bloodsuckers which infest its scabrous hide. The more it’s fed, the more it bleeds. So perhaps it needs to go on a serious diet?

While my thinking errs of the side of the low tax, small Government faction, I understand that there is a need for some form of regulatory framework. Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone outside of a few specialist lawyers really understand the current tangled mess but what I do understand is that if your boat is sinking, the last thing you do is load it down further.

Yes, chums. The EU have pushed for, and got, a ‘Robin Hood’ or more accurately a ‘Tobin’ tax on all Eurozone financial transactions. Again. Why do they need the money? They’ve got all the sparkly buildings, inflated salaries and expense accounts avarice could dream of, yet like a junkie their spending habit is never done. Not until they go cold turkey, OD in some dank little bedsit somewhere, or prematurely slide out of this life as their vital support systems (A.K.A. the taxpaying public) fail one by one until nothing is left. Which is currently where things are. Some serious liposuction on the bodywork is called for, followed by a very large tummy tuck, not more sugar frosting on their doughnuts. Yet in 2016 this tax will be enacted in France, Germany, Estonia, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Greece, Austria, Belgium, Slovenia and Slovakia. Which will have a knock on effect in the City of London. Or more likely the City Financial Markets will do what they always have, pass the cost onto the Poor Bloody Investor.

For some people, this will simply prove another vehicle for the many EU Carousel frauds, like those continually afflicting the farcical ‘Carbon trading’ markets. Five billion lost at the last count, and that’s with a flatlined marketplace.

Robin Hood is upsetAs for ‘Robin Hood’, well a very large raspberry to that. If he were still around, our eponymous outlaw would be rightly affronted by such a reference, perhaps dropping a couple of bodkin points or hunting broadheads into the greedy breasts of our worthless modern day political leeches. Like the medieval churchmen of old, an encounter with the real deal would leave them with their purses stripped, and forced to go whining to the Sheriff wearing peasants rags. There’s an intriguing notion; EU Commissioners being forced to walk barefoot from Strasbourg to Brussels after having their assets stripped, or maybe even impaled with cloth-yard arrows? Which, knowing the sexual predilections of some, might not be quite the kind of impaling that they were hoping for.

I’m concerned

You know, I was reading the Barclay Brothers Beano this morning, and I read that UK Prime Minister David Cameron was stung by a jellyfish whilst on holiday in Lanzarote.

I do so hope the jellyfish recovers quickly.

/arf

Very late update: apparently the Jellyfishes attack was ‘revenge’ for an occasion when Slaphead scared a few when he was younger. A Jellyfish with more backbone and a better memory than a UK politician? Who knew?

Spandex and mad people

Upon my return to Canada from the UK, I’ve been given to musing about all the sights and sounds I experienced whilst there. Specifically the urge amongst many to wear skin tight clothing, particularly cycling gear. Even if they do not own a bicycle.

If there is one type of clothing that should be outlawed by international treaty, I think it should be Spandex, or any elasticated skin skin tight clothing. Leggings especially. The frame of the modern urban or suburban human is mostly best covered to conceal its shortcomings. Which in this day and age are legion. I blame this expectation of perfection on photoshopped seventeen year olds in glossy near-porn advertising photos. The truth is that none of us over nineteen have the body we’d like, but there you have it, and it’s no use trying to look otherwise. Likewise, no female over nineteen, unless a professional model, should go in for body painting.

Excellent reasons not to wear skin tight or Spandex type clothing in public:

  1. It amplifies the size of buttocks. By at least three times. It matters not that you have a superb physique, honed by daily sessions in the gym with not an apparent ounce of flab or even the merest hint of cellulite. After the age of nineteen, Spandex worn skin tight will make your arse look like it has been half-filled with bad jelly
  2. It makes you look flabby when you’re not. The slightest wobble is exaggerated past all ridicule. Each crease, each dimple develops a motion and mind of its own.
  3. Whether intentional or not, your genitalia will be on public display. Even the most discreet panty lines are blindingly visible, and anyone ‘going commando’ will be obvious to even the least observant. For females this is not so bad. For males in cold weather – well let’s just not go there. Even the most well endowed amongst us will end up with the look of a badly decapitated turkey
  4. Even the most benign perspiration stains make Spandex riding shorts look like the wearer has had an involuntary emission, loss of bladder and possibly also bowel control. None of which should be on public display. Unless of course the possessor wishes quiet ridicule to dog their every footstep. Which it will
  5. Frankly, it looks slatternly. Like you’ve mortgaged any dress sense you might have had and gone for the uber-chav look in spades. Like a Croydon facelift and metalflake purple nail varnish

To illustrate by example. About two weeks ago I was sitting in a UK Starbucks, mulling over an Americano, just idly staring out of the window, when a couple in cycling gear dismounted outside, both in their mid to late twenties, both slimly built. Fit, bright eyed and a little rosy cheeked from exertion, all smiles and self involved chatter. The girl came in to buy them two lattes as I recall, while her boyfriend responsibly locked up their bicycles. The day was damp and the Spandex skin tight, so on the way in I got an inadvertent eyeful of female camel toe and deformed limp male genitalia waggling within their elastic restraints, on the way out the motion of half toned flab was enough to make a seasoned mariner hurl a haddock. So I hurriedly averted my eyes. From the male posterior, certainly. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the expressions of certain other denizens of the coffee shop who had also watched the cycling pair come and go. I’m no mind reader, but I can read body language and faces fairly well. The expressions I caught were certainly not those of envy. Eyes rolled, three schoolgirls looked after them and giggled mockingly, and one chap hunched over his laptop glanced their way and gave a revolted shudder. Now either the pair were well known locally as those with freakish habits or had been identified as tax inspectors, I don’t know. In a good light neither was unattractive, but the skin tight cycling gear obviously affected the coffee shops clientèle most unfavourably.

For a replicable proof, any cyclist thus clad should undertake the following experiment. When next holding up traffic while pedalling up a steep hill in low gear, take a glance behind at the following line of traffic. They will, you may observe, be meandering within their lane. This is not due to any lack of control on their part. If the cyclist were to be able to observe their expressions more closely, he / she will detect an expression of amusement hastily concealed within the following vehicles. The burning questions answer being; yes, your arse does look really big in that. Enormous in fact. Possibly even deformed. Yes, the drivers behind are trying very hard not to collapse in hysterics. Sorry, but you made the fashion faux-pas. You might as well be dressed in a dayglo pink tutu with a sign over your head saying “Comic relief – please mock”. Any beeping of horns should be considered justly earned applause for your buttocks comic turn.

Keeping a watching brief

Not much time or inclination to post of late, as personal matters and work have rather taken over my life. However I’m keeping up to date on current events. Crimea, UK economy, the constant dunderheadedness of bureaucrats professional politicians, and the foolishness of their various useful idiots. Just watching, making notes and keeping the absurdity checks up to date. When I’ve got something to say, I’ll say it.

A cool little WordPress feature

Doing a little site maintenance, and found the ‘Protest NSA Surveillance’ banner feature in the ‘Settings’ menu. I know it’s purely a gesture (although hopefully a highly insulting one) in the direction of the hyper suspicious state organs that need to know absolutely everything about absolutely everyone.

You know, just in case Mrs Miggins down at the pie shop is not simply putting out tasty pie recipes on her blog, but that these recipes are, in reality, coded messages to the local Al Quaeda cell to go and do something horrible, like create self detonating custard. Which is actually more likely than you might think. Custard has some interesting properties.

An interesting quote

When the world seems to be against you, and you feel like you’re drowning in a Tsunami of deception, heed these words, ringing across the millennia from the sixth century BC (No, you idiot, not British Columbia, I mean the classic date related interpretation- sheesh, some people)

Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it.
Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumoured by many.
Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books.
Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders.
Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations.
But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.


Wisdom allegedly spoken by Hindu Prince Gautama Siddharta (Buddha)

When arguing with activists, it’s an absolute killer. Especially if they claim to have embraced Buddhism. The simple cruelty of using their own tenets of faith against them actually brings a smile to my face. But then I’m feeling particularly evil today.

A deeply philosophical question

There is a branch of 18th century philosophy that asks the question; “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Originated by Bishop George Berkeley in his “A treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge

Today I have been reminded of this question in an empirical manner. My version of this deeply meaningful question reads; “If a baking potato explodes in the oven, will anyone hear it?” To which the answer is a conditional “No”. The conditional statement being; “but only if the cook is not in the kitchen at the time.”

The rest of this philosophical monologue will be taken up with a much greater question; “If indeed a potato has exploded in the oven, how long does it take to clean up afterwards.” Investigations are ongoing.

All together now….. Arh!

This weekend sees me off looking for a boat. And it’s snowing. Which might actually work in my favour, the market in maritime gear being more depressed than a depressive whose wife has just run off with all his money and the psychiatrist, leaving him outside in a downpour with his house and car keys stuck down the drain. So yes, as far as I can see it’s a buyers market.

The kind of boat I’m looking for isn’t a sailing boat with all those fiddly ropes, stays, corsets and centreboards, but something like a forty to fifty foot long converted deep sea fishing boat with a single, get-you-home-in-dire-emergency roller reef rig. Something with capacious fuel and water tanks and maybe even an onboard water maker.

Something in fact, like one of George Buhlers power boat designs. Love his engine rooms. You can actually get at the diesel and gearbox to fix it if anything goes wrong. I also have a well thumbed copy of “The Troller Yacht book” whose subtitle is; ‘How to cross oceans without getting wet or going broke’. How can you not love that for a title?

The intention is to buy just such a boat, live aboard for three to six months of the year whilst learning about handling it properly for the first couple of years or so, doing short (2-400km) trips around the local islands, dodging stray logs as we go (A constant hazard in coastal BC). Longer trips down the west coast to Mexico, then visions are of travelling further afield. Like trans-pacific to see relatives in Australia. Possibly across the southern Indian Ocean around the Cape of Good Hope, over to Tristan Da Cuhna, Ascension and the Canary Islands, then a sojourn in La Belle France, where family have a small residence, and maybe a perambulation around the Med before stopping off in the UK to see family and friends, thence back into warmer waters and all points south, maybe through Drakes passage at the southern end of Chile, and coast hop north all the way home to BC. Well, that’s the plan, anyways. Weather and circumstance permitting.

Pirate breath fresh advert bWhen we told our friends what we intended, we were swamped with the usual tall tales from non-seafaring folk. They told us about volcanoes, sea beasties and rogue waves so big they can swallow entire fleets. You know, like on Discovery Channel. So something with the flotation properties of a rubber duck is probably in order. Good watertight hatches that won’t cave in the first time we take a big hit. Watching the weather forecasts with the eye of a competent raptor might also be a good idea. Oh noes, but there’s icebergs and sea ice that can crush a hull to smithereens overnight. You know, like on Discovery Channel. Okay, but I’m not that keen on going where the cold is. Good salt water resistant electrics and electronics, a fog horn, and a decent quality liferaft might be a good idea. Arr, but Bill, matey, what about when it rains so hard it makes yer head bleed. We saw it on YouTube. So waiting inside a nice dry cabin until the rain stops might be a good idea then? But, but, but, Bill, there’s storms so wild they go on for weeks. We heard about them from my best friend’s brother in law who used to work in a dock side pub. Weeks of rough weather during which I plan to be safely moored up, spending quality time ashore in a nice cosy bar. Arr, but matey, there do be pirates out there who’ll slit yer gizzards and steal all your booty. Yes, yes I’m sure, but there are very well updated websites about piracy hotspots, and the intent is not to go anywhere near them. Any pirates can keep their hands on their own booty, thank you very much indeed. Saucy fellows. The very nerve. Hmm. Wonder if I can get away with mounting a couple of these and saying they’re just for distress flare launching? Just in case.

To be honest, I’m more concerned about the various customs regulations, and how to get in and out of various ports at a time of my choosing without being skimmed and scammed by local authorities. Like the Argentinians, who don’t like people visiting the Falkland Islands without a note from their mother, which will cost you Gringo. The rest will be down to the tide tables.

Other friends, whose opinions in such matters I value, have simply shrugged and said “Go for it.” Which has been encouraging. As some of these have spent serious time afloat, there has been some good advice from this quarter. Stuff you won’t get told by sales persons or those with bottomless pockets.

Notwithstanding, the whole enterprise is fraught with perils, both real and imaginary, and that’s just making sure what we buy has a sound hull and reliable diesels. Wiring has to be good, water resistant and connections tinned with solder to prevent corrosion along with a myriad other critical details. All of which has to be accomplished without breaking the bank.

The project is a challenge. It’s a really steep learning curve, and that’s probably what appeals. However, we’ve already got some serious interest from like minded souls who want to do a similar trip, and are experienced enough to stand a watch, pay for the odd tank of diesel and generally help out, so crew recruitment isn’t going to be a problem.

You only live once.