[Insert Stereotype Here]

March 15th, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

Stereotypes, ah the simple easy to fall back on comedy back bone of life. We can separate ourselves from this but it is all to easy to indulge in a splurged out stereotype. It is easier to throw a name at someone rather than the hard process of making an informed decision on that person and what they individually are like. On a wider spectrum you can include a dash of racism with stereotypes, be a simple ‘hehe, French frogs’ stereotype or a panicky ‘all Asians have bombs!’ slavering idiocy.

But I guess thats the thing with stereotypes, as a concept they work, the label gun of life jumps out from behind a rickety fence out and smacks a word onto your eye. Thats what you are now, you don’t have a personality or any spark of originality or vim. You are just a name, a floating name tag in the whirl wind of society. Your a northerner, or a scouser or a cockney; your a name and thats all. Above all stereotypes are lazy, its a easy thing to do taking the mick out of someone because of there ‘group’. And for once I am not an exception to what I write, i’m included in this process, I mock groups of people folk with much merriment and mirth and I am in no way going to whip out my linguistic ladder and take the high ground.

So lets try and flip this round, lets say we get rid of the idea of stereotypes, poof! Gone. Right now try and think of jokes that would now be made redundant. Well for a start nearly all jokes involving people would go. The Irish, English and Scottish men would never meet and the world would be a much darker place.

Also the tourist industry would collapse into a husk of emptiness. Although there would still be Germans drinking beer from buckets and French eating frogs and fondling their women until the early afternoon they would not be advertised as much. And therefore people would find it hard to describe people from specific country’s.’Yeah the americans, ermmm, there the ones with the big country right?”. Country references would be flung like arse nuggets at the sun, the Dolmio advert would be a fanciful thought and Mario would not be scampering around killing fungi.

If there weren’t any stereotypes there would be so much individuality in the world that everything would become a blur. If you where to take into account everything you picture of someone from a country you get a stereotype. If you merge all these country’s together you get a human. A person. On earth. Like you. Country’s would be indistinguishable, and it would be ruddy hard to pick a holiday destination. The world would be a terribly confusing place, and although there would be little prejudice, there would be no ’simple’ jokes, therefore the planet would be a much duller danker, old man with a glass of water sort of place.

What we can all agree here is that in extreme cases stereotypes are bad evil little things. But they are necessary for life. Perhaps with work certain stereotypes can be tweaked, but it is really going to take a while. America may reduce the obesity rate to one wobbling flab bear out of one hundred perfectly normal folk, but we we still call them fat. The French may save us from a war, and they will still be cheese eatings surrender monkeys. And due to total prejudice and narrow mindedness, people of ethnic descent will all be bombers, no matter how many win peace prizes and live decent lives.

So there we go young fella me lad. Another post of rhubarb to plug a crevice in the ever expanding tinterweb world. I am not saying I have the answers because I don’t, and if you have ever glimpsed at one of these pixel blockades between you and you life, you will see that I am unable to come up with a logical conclusion. However what I can serve you up with is this. Stereotypes are wrongly right. They are bad because they isolate groups of people and often mock them. But they also bring other groups together.

It is a shame that stereotypes are sometimes hate figures and that it is a lazy way to output aggression and stupidity by saying all Irish people are drunkards and all black people are drug dealers. Its an outlet for the simpleton, and they are ruining it for everyone. The silly fools. Equal stereotypes are what I crave, because you all know that most jokes could become universal by changing the stereotype. For example:

[Insert stereotype here] walks into a bar. “Ouch!”

Now simply fill the gap with and Irish man, a French man, a Scottish man, a Yankee, a Mexican, a fat man, a cockney, a chav, a rabbi, a priest, a goth, a jew, a catholic, a hindu, a women, your mom, your mother in law, my mother in law and and many many more. So theres this post pretty much wrapped up for this week. If you have been reading use stereotypes, but with caution. Rather like plutonium.

P.S. These posts have been running for a year now. How the hell did that happen?

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Intrusive Nonsense

March 1st, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

Good day and welcome to some more garbage wrote by me. Today we are going to tackle the drooling buzz word that is celebrity. Well I say tackle, more like rub, with a wire brush to cause slight irritation. If you decide to take offensive to this weeks post then there is nothing you can actually do. it exists, it has already been called into being, its to late to do anything now.

Okay, lets start of with a basic generalisation of celebrities. Celebrities are basically people with peoples lives, much like your own. I mean hey, you may have sex with less footballers and have your arse on public display to the googling readers of the Sun less. But you still are in the pool of life which also contains holy than thou celebrities. So I propose to you that there lives are just as or perhaps even less important than our own. In certain cases bad things happen e.g celebs die in car crashes or fights or become victim to extra terrestrial anal probing but that does not mean it is in any way shape or form news.

Recently some girl has split up with some bloke. Oh dear, Boo-hoo. This has happened thousands of times to hundreds of people the world over, it has just happened now. And now. And right now. People with there own lives, are making decisions about there lives without any intervention from the media. But because saint Cheryl Cole has decided to make this decision it is suddenly important, and world shatteringly awful. So awful in fact that if you tuned into your telly box last Monday you would be convinced that it was equally if not more important that the Toyota boss apologising for the shoddy workmanship on his horseless carts. Now forgive me if i’m wrong but which one of these story is going to effect the majority of the population.

Not all of us are gawping knuckle dragging swines who’s only escape from there miserable desolate monogamous lives is to read in depth about other more affluent peoples lives which are dreadful so we can smugly hold our selves and say “it could be worse”. Now I am in not saying that Miss Cole’s split up is something comical, its not, in her life it is very bad indeed. Splitting up in any respect is not pleasant, apart from quivering cells splitting up to make a baby person, dawwww. But its not news, unless it directly effects you, and does it my good man, no. Of course not! And that is the truth.

There was that ridicules period last year when the split between a pair of boobs with a bint hanging off them and a bloke who sung something once was front page news. This disastrous display of tabloid garbage was on every news stand across the country for months become ever moisturised by the collective tears of people mourning the death of common sense, truth and people who are aware that there more in the world than idle gossip and vodka ÂŁ1 a shot. We where then encouraged to take sides, but why? Because thats how you separate the parmo-hugging vommit-inducing moron faced homobrainless from people who see the bigger picture.

There was team Katy, which was full of thickies who had watched ITV2 for roughly 1 second and where brainwashed by the life of someone who cant take a crap without it being filmed and broadcast as if it was the most initiative and exceptional thing since sliced mud.. There was also team Peter, full of very much the same crowd as team Katy but for some reason they believed there detest of her would be displayed well by siding with her gormless spouse. And then there was team sane, which was roughly made up of the population of the planet that have any idea of how the world works, our place within and wether or not opinions actually mattered one jot.

Last but not least in this rant I want to mention the recent John Terry news. Heres a basic sum up of what happened, which took the media two weeks to explain. Married man has sex with his friends ex. Woopy-de-sodding doo. In any context this is bad news. It is intolerable behaviour and the mans goolies should be chopped and fed to a shark with hast.

But what really got my goat was that it was put in the papers, and the world went mad. ‘he’s a football player, our children respect him, and then he goes and does something like that’. What a totally half-witted thing to say, do you know this man personally? No! Do you know any information apart form the heavily edited news coverage? No! All you know is what you have been told by the media. And also the only reason you beloved children or indeed anyone know about this common place occurrence was because the media considered it world shattering news. If they hadn’t of mentioned it you wouldn’t know, he’d still be captain, and in the long run the world would of carried on as usual.

It is just silly the way that people think they have any business discussing the private lives of people. Just people, it may of started out a simple stab at his moral compass but it turned into a huge debate about what we should and shouldn’t know about celebs. At this point I would like to point out that she was also in the affair so where are her grounds to to take such a distressed maiden act, she’s a fire breathing dragon to publicly disgrace someone for something that she helped facilitate.

Well he’s no longer a captain, well done for that, now children have been poisoned against there hero. You gave the poison to the media, and the blew the dart. And when is she going the the stocks? Yes thats right nothing has happened to her because she wasn’t ‘anyones hero’, what a gratuitously unfair system.

The message that seems to be flung at us like a warm fistful of chimps rectum nuggets in this story is that it is okay to have an affair as long as your not famous It is preposterously daft and it makes my blood boil and hands shake irrationally above this keyboard to create this ranting abysmal chunk of hate. And now you have opened the free speech window, and all manner of loud mouthed swines are fighting for any aspect of a celebrities life to become public so they can become alienated and hated. Well done.

So heres my final comment on this bizarre behaviour. I do not hold all the facts, no one does apart from the people involved. You don’t hold the facts and neither does the media, they and you know what you have been told by the people, and that is more often than not a heavily bias watered down version of the truth. If you want to read about how peoples lives fall apart why not just read one of those sickly bright glossy magazines in which every aspect of someone’s life is ripped apart from what they look like when they go to get milk in the morning to the bringing up of there children. This horribly unfair stem of the media should not be included in the news, its not news its nosey revolting intrusive tosh.

People are so concerned with celebrities that they cant see that bad stuff happens, all over the world. But for some reason they seem only concerned with what her off of EastEnders is doing with her life, never mind the thousands of break ups, deaths and all forms of dreadfulness that have occurred while you where making your tea this morning.

There is no happy witty sign of today because I feel like an enraged youtube commenter that has nothing better to do than complain, and link anything and everything to the Nazis. I am just livid that people think they have the right to interfere with other peoples lives just because there face was on TV once. It does not concern you or involve you. It is in no way going to effect your life. Just rip all this tripe out of you papers and pay attention to what is going on in the real world town. Leave people alone. Be they celebrities or non-celebrities there personal lives are none of our business. And it is a terrible shame that so many people think it is.

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Cover Thine Eyes

February 15th, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

Now we have all been there, its Saturday night, belly’s are full of curry and brains full of tiredness. The sort of eery atmosphere has developed when numerous people who coexist are too tired to talk, communicate or (in some cases) breath at each other. Total silence, a dark void with the only possible ending being the turning on of the television. So the inevitable happens. PYING! (that my TV turning on noise, its a shame the old fashion pying has changed into nothing but a dank silence, until you wait to be brainwashed by Dale Winton). The TV is on and millionaire, or dancing or strictly dancing or icy dancing or celebrity dancing or dancing naked in capes on foreign businessmen is blasted into the living room bouncing against every cavity and smacking us in the eyes.

I couldn’t stand for this complete and utter b.s stab in the dark attempt at entertainment, and demanded that the TV be changed or thrown out of the window at a passing cat. THATS CRUEL GEORGE! Actually its not i’m sure the cat would do very much the shame if I crawled into its bed and shat on its marigolds.

Well actually I didn’t demand anything, I just sighed, loudly, so all in the surrounding area became aware of my growing distaste in my folks poor choice of fun. Perhaps in another context scantly clad women in spangly bras flip flopping around would truly be exhilarating and exiting. But they were dancing, to the sweet melodies of lady in red sung by a hotel lounge singer while someone smacked a keyboard with a broom behind him.

Soon enough the atmosphere congealed into a thick stew, and the channel was changed with a thunderous blip! Which goes to show sighs are stronger an indeed more affective than words. Well in some cases at least. A women would be less that disinterested if you sidled over to her stared longingly into her enchanting sea blue eyes, or breasts; depending on you stature. Opened your mouth and sighed. Its safe to say you would face another night alone. I mean you don’t see a lot of slowly deflating balloons with dates. Do you?

So then came the repetitive eye-bleed causing flicker-and-flash of finding a channel worth watching. So the wheel of repeat, rubbish, seen it, repeat started to roll and was thundering down the hill of agitation towards the tree of fury. Eventually a film was spurted onto the screen and to my dismay my folks exclaimed “this looks good”. I decided that this film was not my cup of tea, and I in fact would not be watching it. So my book rocketed upwards in a instant; blocking my view of the telly box.

So I read my book and was enjoying it tremendously, every nown and again punctuating the silence with hysterical laughter and those little mouth gurgles you make when something is funny, “but not that funny”. But that did not matter because it was a relaxing gouch out session, and I would not want to stop that. But then I made a terrible mistake, as my arm lunged towards my coffee for a sip I glanced and the TV. And to my horror and shock there was not one, but two nawks central to the screen.

It was no longer just me my family and a box of wonderment and moving images, we were now sharing the room with some knockers. Now on my own it would have been fine, not in the way you thinking you filthy little swine. But the chesticles would not really of effected me. But I was sharing a room with my folks, surely this should just be fine. I mean its just a human body. Isn’t it? But I still felt uncomfortable, devastatingly uncomfortable. I caught my brothers eye and we shared an “oh good, what do we do” sort of look.

The thing is there is no universal reaction that has been put in place to deal with the sort of situation, it just happens. And your character is brought strongly in too focus with how you react. I personally think that all sex scenes and the like are unnecessary in pretty much the whole spectrum of films (bar porn). I mean you don’t really watch a film and go this film would be vastly improved with two minuets of raunchy fake sexy action, it unnecessary as it is cringe worthy.

However I have come up with an idea to help people deal with the situation. Like a subtitle or audio description there should be an application put in place that will enable you to deal with awkward situations like this. I believe there should be a broadcast-boobs-blocker. The basic function of which is to cover up certain ehem areas with your choice of black rectangle, kittens face of burka. Thus making any film with, lets say “special” hug sections safe to watch with all the family, even granny.

So how did I react you say, well I saw the boobaloos, looked at my parents and divulged in a sigh and restrained a tee-hee. And another cringe worthy telly viewing experience was cast into the torrenting river of “oh dear”. Well only for a while. Ten minuets later the women of loose morals was back, with a friend. And they hugged, quite a bit. Well she seemed to enjoy it, especially the last few. If you have been reading have a cold shower.

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Clutching At Pixels

February 1st, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

‘Teenagers, Argh! Says Man’. Here is a basic news format repeated and regurgitated every nown and again when real news is very thin on the ground. Teenagers on the whole are a pretty lost oblivious bunch. Bumbling around the world unable to stop to observe what is happening. But that is a generalisation, which is accepted by the majority and only really questioned by us youngsters.

But it seems the arguments from us lot always seem to be in the form some failed abortion who’s stopped weeing against a tramp to tell a news reporter “we iz just chillin biatch, calm yo batty ass down”. Im not up with modern culture, can you tell? It doesn’t do us well, and it almost appears as if they have chosen the most ropey looking character to back up the point that teenagers are evil.

You can be lazy and say this, sure why not? Its not like its offensive, in most cases its true. Its easy to say all teens have wondered out of an episode of kevin and perry, and in most cases each and everyone of us displays a few of these simple characteristics. You know, smelling, swearing grunting and basically being unimpressed with the world but to lazy to do anything about it.

But what I cant stand is the common conception that we are all shouty-stabby-up-your-mothery thugs. While also being greasy-lardy-oooo-bleepy-bleepy sweating halo buggers kwaffing indescribable fried foods down our gullets only stopping to say lol. Well two paragraphs in and I have not even raised my point (ooerr), well I have raised a few points (ooo matron) but not the main one (ooo, not going to carry on with this running gag, Its dump). Now what I want to rant and rave about this week is the constant need for the media to blame teenage violence on bleepy-bleep machines.

Okay right, to the beef. I don’t have a game station, not one single magic puzzle picture box. I don’t hate them, far from it, but I have never myself owned one. Now that means I can be unbiased (for once) and not end up saying something stupid and thought out such as, pixel death is awesome, or I have played video games since I was a foetus, ain’t done me any harm. *Stabs A Granny*.

Right stabbing happens, shooting happens, mugging happens and most of all silt happens. And yes this sort of thing also happens in the world of pixels and bleeps. And because some of these teenagers stab people, and play games where they stab people (even if the are an elf stabbing a cursed mushroom) a link is created. And it is heavily suggests that teenagers are unable to differentiate between reality and Grand Theft Auto. Sometimes you can see the odd poor sod who cant really separate the two, like those people you see curling up into blue balls rolling around the place, knocking out monkeys who have limited movement in exchange for rings. We can do nought but pity them all.

I know it is almost believable to say that younger children may be influenced by Tommy Vercetti (GTA man with gun), Rebecca Chambers (Resident Evil girl with gun and blood stained vest) or Link (Legend Of Zelda pixie with bow and arrow and questionable hat). But it is highly debatable that the violence seen in games could twist the child’s mind into thinking, killing a women with a chisel is acceptable behaviour. But there are arguments on both sides, and I don’t think one lonely guy with a keyboard and a head of fancyfull words is going to sway any ones opinion. But I have started this shizzle so I will persist with it.

I was reading a story the other day which was in fact the inspiration for this piece of codswallop. The title read Italian teen stabs father in PlayStation row, now immediately I thought it was going to be another one of those ‘teenagers these days are really violent, lets blame something type of article’. But no, as it turns out it was an article unlike one I had ever seen before. Basically the story was about this a child who was playing Fifa 2009 with his dad, he kept loosing and this made him a wee bit ticked off, to say the least. The reasonable reaction to this would be to simply stop playing, or to shout, or something of that nature. But NO! What the teenager decided what would be an appropriate reaction was to go into the kitchen pick up a 15 inch kitchen knife and plunge it into his fathers throat. Jeeez. If you find this hard to believe heres some evidence linkage http://uk.news.yahoo.com/22/20100125/tsc-oukoe-uk-italy-stabbing-1df2b7e.html

Now here is an example of games effecting the behaviour of teenagers, but not in the way that people are so ready to believe. Yes it was playing a game that caused him to be so enraged but it was not a violent one. The teenager was clearly already slightly unhinged and this must of pushed him into the hedgerow is sheer blatant stupidity. What was brilliant about this article is the quote from the mother which tied it all up. “Mario is obsessed. He’s forever playing on his PlayStation, and we bought him FIFA 2009 because we didn’t want him playing violent games,” his mother told Il Corriere.” Ha, bloody ha.

So what have we learnt today, well nothing as this post was more of a vague mesh of words rather than a moral argument. Games don’t make people kill people, and trying to say they do is like saying that liking milk means you like playing with cows tits. It is all but too easy to say that violence in video games causes violence in people, but if your stupid enough to kill, stab and/or maim someone because you saw spyro do it then you just ruining it for the rest us us. Well not us, because as I have already mentioned I don’t have a games console, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy playing them. The problem is some teenagers are heathens and do on occasion commit acts of violence. And instead of saying this kid is clearly a wazzrck, the media has to find a reason behind it be it rap, youtube or Cooking Mama 3.

Overall I believe the only way games can be directly linked to injury or violence was if you stand very close to someone while playing wee tennis. It doesn’t take a genius to know saying games cause violence is daft, which is lucky for me. But here is a quote be a 5 year old boy which basically sums up mine and thousands of others unheard views on the theme of game violence. “I always play shooting games and things like that and they don’t affect me. People act violently because of the environment around them, not the things they do and play.” So there you go, if you have been reading, happy pixel destruction.

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Sorry For That Thing You Picked Up On

January 18th, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

I’m sorry! Two very important words, or are they? I mean you learn at a very young age that saying sorry cures all ills, ends all disputes and stops mummy from getting the hammer out again. Well perhaps not the last one, but you can see my point. You are taught that if one does wrong then one must apologise for that fact, and all will be happy, delightful and the world will be made of marshmallows and you will only breath in syrup. Without the inevitable syrup drowning, which happens a lot these days.

Im reminded of an event when I was younger, when it occurred to me that actually saying “I’m sorry” does not in fact make things at all better. It’s not a bandage or healer of situations, its more of a plaster, a crappy beige plaster with inconsequential perforated holes. Eventually the coverup of the evil doing will fall off due to something far worse occurring. In my case a pushing over.

Anyway the situation was this I was young juvenile and made of 90% snot, 5% lies and 5% daydreaming thinking of somewhere i’d much rather be than in school. For example in a cloud. A quiet crowd. Swearing at seagulls. A girl was annoying me so I stole her hat. A fitting revenge I thought but then I had to take it one step to far. I ran to the toilets, peered over the toilet bowl, the watery abyss, the liquid hate. Hands sweaty, legs a-quiver and the only thought running through my vengeance soaked brain was ‘flush it, flush it, flush it!. With every second the hostility built up. I may of over reacted somewhat, she didn’t assassinate my parents nor did she skin my pets. NO! She called me fat.

But anyway down the hat was stewing in the toilet that was adamant that it wasn’t going to flush, obviously had a higher quality moral compass than me. Suddenly thunderous symbols crashed and lightning crackled through the air, in stormed the teacher eyes ablaze, a weeping silhouette of a young child cowering behind her. The door splintered into thousands of rage filled shards. Sensible teacher wedges stormed across the toilets, clacking against the mock tile floor, then silence. Total thunderous silence not one sound could be heard, apart from the distant groan of each hair follicle on my neck standing to attention, in stark comparison to my cotton like legs quivering in the breeze, eyes darting around looking for escape, breathing heavy waiting for sweet oblivion.

Then wallop the cubical door swung open slashing past me, sheering off my newly erected neck hair. She scanned the hat stroganoff then stared into the pits of my soul. I stared back I thought of my only escape, the ultimate get out of jail free card. So I looked up at her mountainous frame, my lip lowered, my eyes moistened “Sorry” I chirped. So I got told off. I had to apologise to the teacher. Apologise to the caretaker who had to grapple with the toilet to release the hat. Then I said “sorry” ultimately to the girl, in a head down hands behind back kind of way. And that was that, sorry got me out of a rather sticky situation. Mind you I didn’t learn, as soon as me and said girl were alone walking to the class room, totally out of earshot of any higher power I called her a cow and pushed her into a clothes rail.

Although that little story only really shows you that I was a somewhat screwed up child, it proves how people don’t really say sorry and mean it. And it’s not only children that have to say sorry, too grownups, adults do too. A while ago Mr.Brown wrote some letters regarding a great deal of sympathy and respect for women’s son who had lost his life in the Afghanistan conflict. This statement alone is what happened, if it was just this information no one would of raised any form of eyebrow or arm. Only the hidden details were discussed and published by the media. First off this is the prime minister, he’s a busy guy, he has a lot of his plate. He did not have to write these letters. But he did. Out of respect for this soldiers life. He could of easily just got someone to type up a letter and simply signed the bottom of it, not only is this impersonal but it does not really show any thought to the feelings of the bereaved family. Gordon is partially sighted so he has to write using a thick pen so he can make out words. Now the fact that he wrote these letters to me shows a kinder side to the ball bag leader that everyone seems to hate.

Now he spelt the name of the soldiers name wrong, and the women claimed that she was horrified about this and she believed that the prime minister was not bothered. Now id first of all just like to point out that I am not making fun of someone who has died, I respect and have a great deal of sympathy for anyone who has lost the life, especially when its the donkeys that seem to be leading the lions. But there was something really fishy about this story. I can understand that the women was upset, I mean I don’t blame her, and perhaps a small amount of media coverage was called for.

But what was not called for was a one women attack on a small mistake from a man who has a lot of stuff to deal with. For about a week it was impossible to listen to any radio, watch any news or read any paper without stumbling across this women’s ‘outrage’. Gordon saw what he had done and rang up the women too apologise, and that me this shows a great deal of constraint. He had made spelling mistakes in the letter, repeated himself and made a few grammatical errors now his apology was a genuine, unlike my teach-a-hat to-swim incident. But he is a busy man. If he was a chip shop owner perhaps he would of had more time to write out a letter. You would think that this was the end of the argument. It was a simple mistake made then apologised about, then the world keeps spinning, but oh no!

But I think it is shame that she was too outraged to understand the actual facts of the situation. A partially sighted prime minister has taken time out of his schedule of trying to figure out how to fix Britain and cure the financial strife to write a letter directly to you in his own hand to share condolences with your sons unfortunate passing. And then when you are ‘outraged’ he goes out of his way again to ring you and apologise. This was a bad event but it did not deserve the hate mongering that was stirred up in the media. It is a great shame that someone lost there life in the war, but it almost felt like she was more ‘horrified’ than she in fact was. Some newspaper especially the Sun used this story to cause political hatred against Gordon Brown. And to me using someones death to add to an anti Brown sentiment in a daily rag shows a great deal of disrespect.more disrespect than a mistake made by a half blind man. And the lady should of concentrated on who she choose to tell her story, rather than what she was actually saying. Her story just seemed to fuel an all ready flaming anti-Brown bonfire.

I would just like to end to point out that I am not pro or anti Brown. Nor am I pro or anti death during wars. But I am anti using the media to demonise someone who has taken time to write a letter of condolence to a bereaved family. Yes he made spelling mistakes, but it is not the contents of the letter that the women should of noticed, its the fact the Brown writes letters to every bereaved family to show respect and that the country owe them a great deal. I am pro human and I think we should all be forgiven and there should be a strong understanding between all people, everyone naffs things up. EVERYONE! Sure forgive me with caution when I flush a hat down the porcelain doctor who tunnel, but forgive a half blind politician who took time out of being leader of Britain to write a heart felt letter to a family which had suffered a great loss, even though some of the words were spelt wrong. So love to all men, prime ministers and bereaved family’s in equal measure. Don’t take hate away from the post take understanding, forgiveness and what not to do with a young girls hat.

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The New Year Fallacy

January 4th, 2010 by GEORGUSSS

Right so the times are changing and somehow we still keep up. Well it has been four whole days since the new year started and oh, haven’t things changed. Everyone gets there post delivered by robot-pigeon’s and coke and beer come in toothpaste tubs, wheres toothpaste comes in cans, which makes you think that product development may sometimes go too far. Well no, that has not happened that will undoubtedly happen in years to come, just like in the 80’s where in 2010 everyone would would have hover cars and solar-powered feet. For now we will have to make do with little victories, to us they are small, minimal trivial pieces of technology, but imagine what the vikings would do with a microwave, or god knows what Neanderthal man would do with an iphone. Smash it on a rock probably.

But yes as the New Year celebrations came and went most people woke up with vodka burbs and cheese and onion McCoy farts and thought, jesus that was a quick year, I barely got anything done. And in most respects we didn’t really, did we? I mean as a human unit we did few things, some things happened, some things didn’t. So lets get down and lie in the filth in the nitty gritty and figure out what actually happened in the year of the number 2-0-0-9. Firstly there was a break up between two very famous (for some unknown reason) individuals, there split up was splattered all over the media and there was no way you could avoid there stupid gormless faces. Yes thats right it was the famous split up of Moises Arias and Emily Osment. No? Me neither.

Hmm what else did we achieve this year? Well the war carried on, people denied lying about it (like a child with chocolate on his face denying all involvement in consuming the last cadburys flake) and some pointed out that they where in fact lying (as they waved the flake wrapper of truth in front of there evil faces). Naughty, naughty men with bald patches ‘borrowed’ money for essential gifts such as a new bell tower and a Twix, and we can all see what life without them would be like. Pretty much the same I can imagine, but we would have to buy alarm clocks because we can not rely on Quazi Modo to wake us up for coffee and cornflake time.

Well there was some of the white stuff, and after weeks of ‘dreaming of a white christmas it came and there was mass panic and uproar. At what exactly? Well i’m not really sure, but I think it was a mixture of the sky, road and snowploughs. But we are not prepared for snow so its little wonder that there was a subtle disagreement of the nation with it. But what we had in England was crap, the snow wasn’t the bad thing, the bad thing was idiots driving, idiots complaining, idiots in general. Its that people fear the unfamiliar, for example in Germany they are laughing themselves silly and the stupidity of Britain.

Well this madness must end (and by madness I mean this post, not the monogamous rhythm of life). And i’m sure you want to be leaving, and be safe in the knowledge that this view is the same as my own. So ill end soon. Im sure that many of you have made a decision to not do something, that you used to do that you liked doing. But because of being healthy or various other reasons, have decided to give it up, sure in the knowledge that within a few weeks you will do that particular thing again because it is just lovely, and thats why you first did it. I suppose you could call that a ‘New Years Resolution’ but that is too simple for me, I will eventually condense all of what I call it into one choice phrase, but for now that is what I am going to call it. I had a (decision to not do something, that I used to do that I liked doing. But because of being healthy or various other reasons I have decided to give it up, sure in the knowledge that within a few weeks I will do that particular thing again because it is just lovely, and thats why I first did it.) and that is that in the future I will not be as cynical as I am at present…

…Nah!

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Merry Boxing Day

December 21st, 2009 by GEORGUSSS

So I looked at my calender today and I was amazed into a heavenly state of perpetual bliss. You see, in five days it is one of the favourite festive occasions in the calendar of this week. I have been looking forward to this day for about two hours and i’m exited to share my thrill with you, to slice a bit of joyous cake and rub it into your eyes and face, you see in five days it is boxing day. Ha! Got you there I lulled you into thinking that I was talking about jesus day and had merely got my dates wrong, but no sir! It is boxing day that I am truly looking forward to.

Boxing day come from Anglo-Saxon times in which the richer upper class people would give food and small gifts to the less fortunate in boxes. Which is a nice thing to celebrate, even if now the day has transformed in Christmas 2: the return of burping and eating Cadbury miniature heros. In which everyone sits on there rectums and watches the great escape. At least this day has factual proof behind it. Not a celebration of a birth which (might have happened) in the wrong conditions because the parents not being able to book a travel lodge early because of the Christmas rush. Oo blasphemy, how cruel and small minded. Well not really, to me saying something of that nature is like saying all fairy’s smell of festering turds. Neither of these characters have evidence behind them so I can, if I choose, take the pizaz taken out of them. So there.

Now i’m not for an instant saying I don’t like Christmas. I in fact love Christmas, I love the glittery, slovenly, happy, cosy laziness of it all. It is one of the holidays which is celebrated the country over, and that is lovely. But in most cases it is somewhat rushed. There is always the sort of “do this, do that, oh, no it’s uncooked we are all going to die in this room with only the buzzing fairy lights for company” thought behind it. The thought that everything must be perfect and lovely and oh-isn’t-that-stupendous overtake the enjoyment of it all, well sometimes it does, there are the brief gaps in which everyone can relax sit back eat cashew nuts and normally on that occasion Shrek is normally on and that is marvellous.

So I am not going to be cynical at all about Christmas it is lovely and fabulous and gives me and most people a nice warm feeling inside; heartburn. But what I will say is this I much prefer boxing day, because Christmas is over and there are no demands of you, you can sit back and drink the festive season in, or an eggnog, or maybe even a snowball, they are delicious. Just drink it in and appreciate it for what it is, originally a religious celebration, which has now been engulfed by commercialism.

Which some would say is a real negative in todays society that anything pure has been wrapped in celerities and Mark and Spencer’s then marketed to us as ‘the best way to celebrate Christmas’. In a world where everything is the best Christmas gift, and where Christmas would not be the same without a stressless chair and matching stool there is little room for true happiness. But you can ignore these crass attempts at destroying a holiday and just enjoy it as it comes.

But I will be celebrating boxing day this year with much vigour and contentedness as I can muster. Not because I don’t like Winterville day, just because it gives you time to appreciate Christmas. Because on boxing day there is time to relax and contemplate what a bewitching day you have had. Well you do have those brief gaps between some soppy made for TV drama about three ghosts and holy wreaths and something of that nature where the adverts come on telling you of the festive joy that on the telly box later and when the holidays sales will inevitably start.

This is my last post of the year, yes I did hear that sign of relief there, and don’t think I have not. So its been a fun year and I hope you have a happy time till I write my next post and ruin something else wholesome . So all that is left for me to say is merry day and a happy other day. Good afternoon my tinsel swines.

x

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The North Star Is Flickering

November 23rd, 2009 by GEORGUSSS

Hello once again reader and welcome to the pixels which is todays post, I welcome you and your hatred of everything pure to come in. sit yourself down. Can I make you cup of tea? As you may of noticed last week this page was without a block of words wrote by me (or rather me mashing me face against the keyboard and hoping for something wonderful) and that is for one main reason. Basically its hard to be angsty when you have so much work to do. And although some of you may go ‘work?’, well okay I may just stick things to paper with prit stick and dribble, but its still hard, long and takes ages (that is I no way reference to the male phallus, so grow up. Well it wasn’t going to be the female phallus was it george? Oh do shut up!).

So in light of the immense amount of work I have to do and the way it pushes creativity out of my mind, like an old magazine on the coffee table of my life I am going to turn this post writing shizzle into a fortnightly event. This may not improve the posts but it gives me a heck of a lot more time to ‘be’. It occurs to me that this is more of a diary than a post, and I may be indeed the only one reading this, oh well. Hi George.

Right now to the beef. My beef this week is once again with christmas. As you may recall the other week I wrote extensively about he fact that all you need at Winterville 2009 is a sofa, screw the turkey and gift giving bonanza, just have a nice sit down. But this week its lights that have got my goat and I am now going to bore you with why. Its is now still not december and if lights will have there way its Christmas now, right now, so be cheery and drink some mulled wine you fools!

Now I don’t really mind town lights as they are usually quite pretty and low key, and there is no need for and plastic Santa’s or fiberoptic turkeys, people just like a casual reminder of the impending festive season, a bit of glitter and sparkle to improve the day. Even some of the trees are nice, its nice to see a slowly dying shrub outside of Debenhams, who doesn’t want to see that? And don’t get me started on the upturned green ice cream cone outside of Mima, no one needs that.

But the normal houses seem to have lost there way somewhere and insist that every tiny bit of the house must look like a radioactive pound shop. I mean in my house we will put up some small things, you know little reminders of christmas, not a life size Santa’s which smack you in the face with his tinsel covered cock every time you walk past. But at least its not as bad as my aunty’s place. Honestly its like a robot has broken in and thrown up pure light. It’s just a field of flashing lights and fibre-optic Saint Nicks, its creepy, Father Christmas’s beard should not glow. Unless its in a hilarious candle blowing out incident. And yes that may be dark, but you would laugh wouldn’t you?

Only the odd houses are like Mr Clauses Dixons these days and maybe that is because people have realised hey! Maybe, just maybe this is a waste of money. Maybe people from space don’t need to see my house. But no matter how much I complain these houses will still exist, these grotesque shrines to a glamorised mentally stunted burglar will stay be there glowing with both light and the smugness of the silly bumbling idiots within. But I guess I can not really complain, imagine living next to these houses, every night the Blackpool illuminations go off and all you can do is cope, complain or kill. But people would rather lay awake at night rather than saying 73 depictions of Santa’s each climbing up its own ladder is too many depictions of Santa’s climbing up his own ladder.

Well thats me off for another week, haven’t really had a point here so ill sum it up in a few words. Have small lights which may create a bit of sparkle and magic, don’t have 26 inflatable snowmen perched around the nativity seen in which rudolf is one of the three wise men by simply wearing a fake beard, that is not only silly, but also a fire hazard.

Merry Monday 23rd November 2009!

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Ho-Ho-Homing Supplies

November 9th, 2009 by GEORGUSSS

so yes, Christmas is soon upon us, or is it? By my records it is November the ninth (a whole 45 days to christmas), but if the media have there way its going to happen in 5 minuets, so you better put the turkey in the oven. Now adverts are a real pain in the arse this time of year and everything from sofas to CD’s, (by people who shouldn’t be aloud within 5 miles of a sound recorder) are thrown at as through the TV and we are encouraged to buy them because it is Christmas time. I my self last week bought a mattress and a James Blunt CD simply because the adverts had bell sound’s in the background, and Santa dancing like he’s trying to fight of several slowly advancing crabs in the corner. Perfect gifts for christmas. My arse!

That is the bit of Christmas that really ticks me off. I don’t think anybody of sound mind who doesn’t want to buy a sofa will be swayed into buying one simply because the couple on the advert sat upon it are wearing christmas hats and drinking mulled wine (is anybody really that cheery sitting on a sofa doing naff all?).

You see Christmas is a marketing tool, its a way of selling the junk that would not of been sold in the first place, to idiots buy adding snowflakes to the advert. But there must be someone buying these products otherwise the orange twit from sofa land wont be trying to convince me that a brand new leather recliner chair would be an ideal gift for my loved ones. I think not!

”Oh George, what delightful gift have you bought for me this winter vile?”.”well I thought long and hard, thinking what would make your ideal present, but then I couldn’t be arsed and switched on the telly box, and I was advised that you would make sweet tender love to me for months, if I bought you a shiny chair that is like sitting on a cold glue with a backrest, so I followed that tangoed oracles advise and bought you a stressless”. ”I wanted a necklace! You stupid impressionable prick!

” But I like all other Christmas adverts from the lights making your house look like a radio active pound shop to the biography’s of someone who failed on X-Factor but still had ‘talent’, but you know if you bought someone it, it would be returned to you in decorated paper next christmas, from aunty ungrateful.

So please keep the adverts for stuff people will actually buy, stop selling me sofas, mattresses and bathrooms. People wont buy them because its Christmas, people will buy them when they need them. Not in time for christmas, when everyone is already financially crippled with all the stuff they have bought for friends’ and relatives. Stop using a holiday to sell your crap, we don’t buy chairs at Easter or kitchens for Halloween, so why the crippling arse hell would we buy a mattress for Christmas! Think of the packaging!

I can sense many more Christmas rants are to follow, so consider this a taster. Or perhaps even a warning.

Good afternoon

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Roller-Coaster

November 2nd, 2009 by GEORGUSSS

So it was my birthday on Saturday and i’m happy to report that I felt no different to how I felt on Friday evening. I felt then as I do now a mixture of glee because of a satisfactory half term of relaxing and discovering that I can get two litres of Dr pepper for the price of 750ml and horror because of the impending doom of the return to collage. I woke up on Saturday morning normally, I did not dawdle over to the mirror and discover I had sprouted a beard overnight, nor did I walk out of the room and smack my head because id grown a foot in my sleep. The only difference was that it was now Saturday and no longer Friday.

Now I am not going to be cynical about birthdays because I love, like everyone, to get free stuff for one day a year. The only thing I don’t like is the need is this constant need to be happy, I mean I can sustain the glee for roughly 5 minuets to an hour, after that its pretty much a normal day. Perhaps a few other niceties happen, but its mainly normal with an uplifting air about it.

But readers i’m worried, very worried indeed. Because now I am 17, no longer 16 as is the way that the system of age. And because I am now 17, I am no longer a child, well I wasn’t really a child when I was 16 more like a man child. Meaning basically an adult but still with a strong pull towards lego.

I am now 17, and its scary, i’m on the roller coaster of life. Slowly creaking up the main drop slope of the ride. With each click something happens. Click! Deep voice. Click! Spots. Click! facial hair. Click! Age of consent. Click! Age to drive a car. Click! Age to attempt to get into clubs with about as much success as a zebra trying to to disguise himself from an attacking lion by putting on a fake nose.

Im now stuck on top of the peak of the ride, and my cart is rocking too a thro. And pretty soon its going to fly downwards, breaking the sound barrier and making my tongue flap behind me like a pilots scarf. Pretty soonish life is going to get pretty dam tough, and we all know in the back of our minds that its going to be harder. But with hardness comes beauty, in how ever form it may come to you. It may come in the form of your first long relationship, or perhaps even a nice car, or perhaps even a beard.

So thats me 17, ready to fly through this life or adulthood to the ultimate doom of death, but lets not worry about that, thats miles away (metaphorical miles no real miles, unless you live next to a cliff, or a level crossing) and anyway, its not like worrying about its going to change things, its still coming. So lets think about something nice and fluffy, like a little duck in a boot.

So i’m 17 and and i’m going to grab life by the horns an try to perk up abit and not be so cynical all the time, but then again as i’m 17 a new door of conversation has opened to me. I can now rant about driving cars…

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