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‘Tseems I have struggled as of late keeping this here blog stocked with thought-flow. Pity, but bah phooey and who said that a blog needed constant entries anyhoo. My mind muddied with muddled thoughts perhaps a healthy evacuation of such onto this papier digitale may be of benificial brainage beautification.... hence:I find myself in a peculiar place in life. Oh please, say they of lives more peculiar than mine, but indeed I find it peculiar all the same. First, since May my methode of employ and funding has progressed in two directions, namely slightly improved in dollars and cents wise, considerably improved, nay increased, in responsibilities and activity wise, and fucking o’er flowing in frustration.... wise. My gracious employer has never sparkled in the area of modern technology for the workplace, the bare minimum of rudimentary but reasonably workable IT tools have been furnished in the past and minor grumblings aside I always seemed to be able to press the buttons required to make things happen as required. Unfortunately, an ambitious and somewhat fuckwitted introduction of new systems has rendered my daily activities ridiculously difficult, complex, and bordering on impossible. Complaints are unwelcome to those who champion the new order and solutions will not be forthcoming while my derriere is pointing in a certain direction. Luckily, I have the incredible ability known as “Nary Giving a Fuck” and I bravely work on allowing the things that cannot be done to remain undone. Added to all this, the silly season that is the fault of celebrations related to the story of the miracle of a virgin birth is upon us and the work will soon become all that much harder.Still in the workplace, I grow weary of the daily battle in a war not worth fighting with some of my occasional comrades. Arguing incoherently with me is like eating a lump of lard, pointless and leaves a bad taste in ones mouth. Some of our people do find themselves in a tough place at the moment, but they confuse me with somebody who has a responsibility to help them. My job is to make decisions that are rather ruthless in nature, and I am sooooo fucking good at it that it gives me energy. I dismiss dilly-dallying, sob stories, and people who think they know my job better than I do, but I wonder if secretly I actually enjoy pissing them off and observing the fits of fury. Is there some degree of masochism involved here, perhaps I subconsciously enjoy having abuse and mental degradation heaped upon me and just when they think I’m out for the count I rise up, kick them in the balls and deliver my own tirade. The workplace is indeed a terrible terrible place, but I’m thinking that I wouldn’t have it any other way.Home life is very subdued, mostly a lack of energy from the encounters above. But alas, a slowly percolating excitement is developing as my years of single living are in their final weeks. It’s a brave new world I embark towards with a wicked grin and understandable trepidation. Having known of her existence for a little over a year now, I have gradually identified her as one of the treasures of the trove and someone I have a desire to desire utterly. Certainly it is not without hurdles to be leaped, but bound together in a three legged race even I feel we shall soar.Fatigue now descends upon me, so I shall rest.
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. - Oscar Wilde.
As an anonymous blogger (a lazy, inconsistent and infrequent one lately) this quote is just so true. I wonder why we feel so much more at ease with the truth when it cannot be directly connected to us by others?
A debate I heard a while ago about the blogging community was that anonymity presents the danger of the author not having to stand by what they are writing. This opens the door to all sorts of false and scandalous information that could lead the ignorant astray and damage reputations. Bah! Anyone who reads a blog (especially mine) and considers it a source of valuable information that they should base their own thoughts on has serious problems. People should understand that the written word is as corruptible as any other form of communication. Its dangers require at least two people, one to write it and one to read and believe it. Does not the reader need to accept some responsibility?
Oscar would have loved blogging. I wonder what he would have called his blog page? The Importance of being Scandalous? A Blog of no Importance?
Oh dear, it seems I have been neglecting this blog something awful. Clearly my “one pic a day” plans have come a cropper, and hence will be now be referred to as “one pic whenever I get around to it” instead.
Today I read a small article that can be found on Adelaide’s “The Advertiser” website about the most recent victim of Channel 9’s practice of “boning” its female presenters. In case anyone is unsure, Channel 9 is a television station that broadcasts copious quantities of advertising for products no sane person could ever want (at least while they are legally entitled to button their own trousers) with the odd program of dubious entertainment or informative value thrown into the mix just to keep us from trading in our television sets for things we..... well, might actually find of use instead.
Anyways, I’m not here to pour scorn on channel 9, they gush it onto themselves readily enough, I instead wish to unleash my cynical bwahahahaha’s upon the recently boned Kellie Connolly who may just qualify for the “Hypocrite? Who? Me?” award for this year. Yes indeed it appears that Mrs. Connolly has been rocked to the core after being the latest casualty and is not too pleased about it. The pearly whites and the pleasant face it appears were not enough to save her from the chopping block, probably because some other unmarried, non-pregnant, white toothed glamour has joined the ranks and taken her place on the gravy train.... oh yeah and some shit about journalistic ability too, yada yada yada.
Is there a naivety inherent in the concept that if you score a gig on “A Current Affair” or one of the plague of morning breakfast television shows that ooze, puss-like, from the screen you got the gig due to journalistic credentials? ...... wow... ACA, morning breakfast television, and journalistic credentials all in one sentence. I feel sooooo dirty.
Kellie, you didn’t complain when they put you up in the apartment overlooking SinCity Harbour, you didn’t complain when they poured fucking stupid amounts of cash into your bank account. You had a damn good run in a game more crooked than a poker table on a Mississippi steamboat. You don’t now have a right to sully the strides made by the real feminists who are battling the real issues by jumping aboard a bandwagon and saying how appalled you are that it was all about teeth and tits. If your that good a journalist, pursue a career in the free press where there is some integrity, but little chance to attend the Logies underpantless I’m afraid.
The article can be found here.
Braced in walking boots, I wrap my coat snugly about myself and elevate the zipper till it starts to pleasingly choke. The wind has a banshee roar about it and all exposed skin feels the tingle of frigid air. I can feel my nose turning red as my sinuses protest the chill.
The sun provides glare but nil warmth and the expanse of the moor soaks it in and expresses a deep yet rugged green. I walk and smile as each step produces a crunch upon the cold shale of the path. Peering to the distance I see the same as where I am, solidarity and remoteness without regret. Once again I step out of a life surrounded, uncaged and free to ramble. Directionless, wonderfully directionless and devoid of task or duty.
Energizing, revitalizing, replenishment of the zing thing. Never has it been so clear that I am in fact a battery and one that is charged by denial of the things I am supposed to be doing. These are the things that make up me, that may bother the other, but so be it.
Forward to the next village, the next stage where the show must go on. Fearless, but to be frank one must be frank. The great pleasure of diving back into the civilization and thumbing my nose at the apparent "opportunities". Some may hint at arrogance, fuck them, so how's that for arrogance?
A handful of cards, and I'm not the one who shall fold.
When one wishes to make a point of shooting fish in a barrel, the key I feel is in the way it is done. Today's fish in my little barrel is that of the worlds religions and the gunslinger is American standup comedian Bill Maher in the documentary "Religulous".
Much in the same genre as Michael Moore, this film is structured with a foundation of outright bias, builds it's walls to a conclusion that was already made before production even started and is roofed with a contempt for the rights of people to follow the faith of their choosing. Maher's treatment of people in the film is disgraceful at best, and the old trick of creative editing to make the participants appear ridiculous and foolish is crafted exquisitely. To argue that this kind of behaviour is necessary due to religion being the primary cause of the world's troubles to me wins the longbow award (as in the drawing of) and to suggest that because the scriptures of the religions have obvious inaccuracies it should render the respective faith null and void perhaps glosses over the point of religion entirely.
However, and here it comes, I liked it. There is no doubt that Maher has the supreme ability to deliver a message. Years of standup and television work have helped him develop his patter and showmanship. He correctly points out some of the flaws in the world's faiths, and the problems they are causing to at least some of their followers. This is an intelligent man who is doing the thing that we all need to do, express our concerns.
I may not be a religious man myself, but I pray we may all be able to continue to follow our faiths or not as we see fit.
