Christmas is like:

Sometimes...

when the collection comes around during mass I want to throw my money on the floor and say "pick it up".

"This traffic is Ludacris"

 I don't think we should whine about how fucking busy the high streets are this time of year. We (I) should know to avoid them or failing that do something positive like christmas carolling for those stressed shoppers. I was thinking something along the lines of:

MOVE BITCH GET OUT THE WAY. GET OUT THE WAY BITCH GET OUT THE WAY.







OHHHHH NOOOO! FIGHT'S OUT!!!!

Mamma I'm a millionaire, but I feel like a bum...

"If you got dogs then you got bitches. Bitches always out to put their paws on your riches"

The problem begins with the conditional. "If 'dogs' then 'bitches'"* is a simple phallocentric condition with women defined by their relationship to men both semantically (dog/bitch) and logically (If dog then bitch). The construct would be considered the basic faulty reasoning of every misogynist, but this reasoning belongs to the 'dog' alone and is a path that leads back to him**.

Tiger is a fool but he's not an exception. He is not the only married man to cheat. He is not the only man  to cheat on an attractive spouse with an ugly mistress***. These instances are, at a guess, a minority (Jeremy Kyle may contest otherwise) but are interesting to note as we ask ourselves why would you risk it (true love; the distant, faltering feeling of affection) for anything less?

"Why not? I'M TIGER BITCH! BARK! BARK!"

I wish Tiger would declare this at a press conference and roar with satisfaction, like a lion after fucking and gutting bear. Then, clambering on to the press table, he would urinate on the front row in an even manner as if lovingly watering his parched plants. The hot, fetid piss would fill the crowded room with the contempt he feels for the world it would reek of the distrust he holds for women and the disgust he feels for himself and the abstraction referred to as "those other people" - humanity. Ultimately, while stood above the steamy aftermath, he knows he pisses alone.

In someway I believe this is true of every man.


Just remember: "Tiger woulds, y'naw?"

* The contrapositive is, 'no Bitches, no dogs'. That shit is the truth.

** This is a convoluted way of saying "the way you think of others suggests something about the way you think of yourself" which is, of course, one of those 'pearls of wisdom' that appears to says a lot but also nothing at all due to its ambiguity. For example, "I avoid and ignore the homeless" either shows my mistrust and subsequent lack of concern for those less fortunate than myself, or that my repulsion is a prudent measure against the probability of being accosted which implies the unconscious assumption that were I destitute I would seriously consider accosting/robbing/annoying someone that appeared to have money. But, if you think about it, I sort of condone and understand this, and if I didn't it's because I'd be a better class of tramp than you "you fucking loser". It's a veritable "good samaritan's" mess.

*** This assumes he estimates their value solely on appearance, which we would argue does not measure up to the standards set by his supermodel wife. But, perhaps they were more attentive, charming or dominating maybe they had matching star signs or they cupped his balls and whispered to them; who knows? However, Tiger did, supposedly, maintain relationships with a few of his mistresses so he may not have 'settled for less' but perhaps gained more.

SCUM Manifesto

"I am a turd; a lowly abject turd"

This blog is gradually turning into a list of my flaws (vanity, laziness, immaturity, owning a Mac...).

With this in mind, I proudly offer my 'lads' trip to Brighton (for some reason my friend decided the seaside in early December would be the ideal place to celebrate his birthday. As expected the hotel was a dog shit hovel facing the sea. It was the cliche of poor accommodation from the obligatory smell of piss to the dysfunctional and hazardous furnishings. Pretty good for £15 a night tho.)

The conceit of a 'lad's' trip is one that I could easily over analyse for it's insights in to masculinity, but really that's some bullshit.



ANTI - GAME: Misogyny and the fragile ego. 


S: I think our best bet is with the fat chicks.


S: I don't understand what happened... This girl walked past us and smiled and we just sat there on the edge of the table swinging our legs and giggling like children.


A: I dunno what happened. I was just scared of rejection.

The Politics of Aesthetics: Love and loss. 


S: What did she look like?
N: I opened my eyes but then I had to close them.


J: ... I even saw some little blind kid turn his head and start crying.






Denial: Orientalist tropes of the sexually submissive Asian.

V: What? Fuck off! Nah he was just being friendly.

The Super Ego: Delusions of grandeur.


A: I didn't bring ID.





Much love to Valerie Solanas

Buy (RED)

I was recently reminded Lilo was a top-grade ranga and (arguably) the heir apparent to Julianne Moore.

But then she fell off and is now to gingers what MJ was to black people.

But why? You could argue there was pressure from the primitive simps in the entertainment industry, but what were they responding to? You. It is my contention the ranga remains a social pariah, ridiculed for their fiery manes and forced into lies like, "it's more an auburn-y, strawberry blond colour".

WTF son? It's red, ginger even, and maybe slightly orange. Rangas need to stand up.
    




I think we should collectively say, "Sorry Lindsay...motherfucker!".

Don't dye or lie.


Love xx

p.s. 'Dye' and 'die' are homonyms - think about it.

I have reached the nadir of my existence.

My trip to Ibiza

Consider the following:

1.

   D: [Gesturing towards the train stop sign] Bruv, I'd love to live there.

   V: Horley? Why the fuck would you want to live in Horley?

   D: Cos it's Whore-ly, init.  Sluuuuuts!

2.

   D: I dunno what it is, but there's something about paying for a lap dance in euros that really turns me on.

   V: [laughter]

3.

4.

I stopped paying attention to other things after all the boobs.  

10 out of 4 people think I'm an idiot

"Here comes the science bit. Concentrate."


Reviewing tv shows is not really my thing. But the implications of this show are quite interesting.

Predicting the lottery numbers was amazing, right? The explanation not so much. However, what the explanation says about us is what is interesting.

'The Events ' website is carrying out a poll asking you to vote on how he did it.
When I voted (I voted for the third option, 'fixing the machine') 34% believed he used 'the wisdom of the crowds' and a disappointing gap of 7% separated them from the 41% who believed he had fixed the machine, not to mention the 24% who believed his study of numerology and probability were the deciding factors in his success.

I'm not siding with the 41%+ who believe Derren Brown has completely 'copped out' with his explanation (them shaking their heads while triumphantly patting themselves on the back).

Rather, the convoluted and contradictory explanation is decidedly too absurd to believe, and that to be convinced of its sincerity is a feat as shocking as the conjuring of all six numbers (all six yeah?).

I'm hoping there is a healthy, rational skepticism in the viewing public, otherwise his work of alerting us to our irrational superstitions has suffered a set back and this 'Event' may be his greatest failure, not for its outrageous claims but for the percent of you that vote for anything other than a fixed machine.

Also, to the 34% of you, automatic writing? Are you taking the piss?


P.S. If the machine was fixed then surely the results of the draw should be null and void for fear of 'cheats'?

Pss I'll be explicit and say I believe he purposely made that explanation ridiculous and crammed it with the pseudoscience he usually takes apart. For what reason I can't be certain.

Hot like fire.

Lord of

Consider the following:

M: You know you're problem is you're so apathetic. You're apathetic!

V: Yeah. So what?

(check out this Lords of Apathy post.)

World's fastest man. It couldn't be possible without...

"This is for the first Jamaican Bobsleigh team:  DERICE!   SANKA!   JUNIOR!   YUL! 

And you, John Candy. Thank you for believing in us John!" 

FEEL THE RHYTHM, 

FEEL THE RHYME. 

GET ON UP. 

IT'S BOBSLED TIME! 

Yangshou

Hangzhou -

Hangzhou, West Lake - aka Latchmere Swimming Pool.