Black Friday’s Sheople

Have you heard of the word Sheople?  I read it while looking at Facebook posts on another phenomena the UK has adopted from the US… like sheep.  It’s how people react when there’s a bargain shouting at you : 75% OFF!  MUST GO!  We rely heavily on morality and that unspoken code of conduct like waiting in queues and opening doors for the elderly.  Some naive people in positions of authority (supermarket stores) think that the Police are going to waltz in and become security guards.  If the stores got trashed on Friday and they’re pissed off about it, then that’s their stupid fault.
+++++I saw parallels between George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead and those scenes at the shops on Friday.  There’s a science on crowd behaviour and it’s an interesting one.  Have you noticed the concertina effect on motorways as motorists slow down to see the accident on the opposite side of the road?  This has a major impact kilometres behind the scene and seldom takes minutes to take effect.   Crowds of people are blobs of bacteria that swell and congeal, split off and react differently when in low numbers.  A well placed Tazer with about 110volts going through it might have sorted the disorder out.
+++++I might be speaking out of turn here, but fuck it if I am.  People fighting over a flat screen TV breaks the boundaries of pathetic and I’m pleased we are not in that circle.  I live in the old world where there are manners and politeness – that’s where I’m old fashioned and how I got here.  These people and they are ‘these people’ are opportunist dregs, sets me and my family apart from them, which isn’t a bad thing.
+++++So, the Supermarkets that put these schemes up, spawned from the US Thanksgiving only have themselves to blame.  Sheople will act like sheep and move where the urge is, where the bargains are.  The Zombies of the Romero movies acted in the same manner.  The World influence that is the US is steadily covering the world.  Our TV shows are spawned from US origins, our Legal practitioners are rubbing their hands together at the financial rewards as we stab each other in the back through libel/ civil claims.  Work is being more and more regulated as companies attempt to protect themselves.  First Aid boxes are being removed for fear of misdiagnosis of a band aid.  Our much cherished Common Sense may be under threat.  Couch potatoes are watching more TV as the shows are becoming more entertaining, more sitting down, more obesity and all the while the slim, big earners are looking proverbially down on the lower classes who have been subdued by the intoxicating pull of desire: TVs, fast food, Xbox, Social Media, Football etc etc.
+++++Would communism solve this?  Probably, with a decent, strong leader, but would I want that?  Not really.  I think it’s great we can make it if we want to and that is something I will hold onto.

Belarus, No PC Bullshit and Mutant Fruit


I’ve just been scammed. I thought it would be too good to be true and it underlines a common theme I see running underneath society. If you want something, or lots of it, then you have to work to get it and even if that means pressing the ‘Follow Button’ 10,000 – then that’s what it means. I paid $39 to buy myself 10,000 twitter followers. I got them, all 10,000 of the slanty eyed cantonese symbols – couldn’t read the names of any of the fuckers. I couldn’t even get a decent conversation out of them. I kept on getting offers for ‘Quik sex’ and a ‘Good times’ and more thousands of followers. I bet that Justin Bieber doesn’t get this problem – the cheeky little cunt.
+++++I checked my Iphone this morning while making coffee and noticed that 8500 of those rice noshing followers had duly unfollowed or were booted from the Twitter system by bots or some other program. I could have done the shopping at Lidl with $39. Fuckers. Top Tip Readers – don’t fall for it. You may as well risk the Repetitive Stress on the digits if you want oodles of followers.

Where the fuck is Belarus and who the fuck is Lukashenko!?


Too close for comfort….

Anyone heard of a place called Belarus? You’d be forgiven for your ignorance. It’s kept itself quiet. It pales in significance and poses no threat to anyone in Europe. The only thing remarkable about this landlocked, marshland is the film ‘Resistance’ (starring Daniel Craig), it’s USSR (Communist) buildings/ shrines/ logos/ motifs and an incredibly fast acting (no fucking around) Health service.
+++++The Film Resistance is about the Bielski brothers who were partisans during WW2 and they made the Germans occupation a headache. I started reading the book and saw the film. Not a bad tale. The last of the brothers died in Israel in the 1980s I think and the film only came out recently. The end of the film was spoilt by a dramatic, hollywood battlescene against German armour. Similar to the arrival of US armour and aircraft at the end of ‘Saving Private Ryan’.
+++++The country is run by a diluted down dictator who seems to get sanctioned only because he wins every election and the opposition are likely to meet a nasty accident.  He’s bald, but that doesn’t stop him sweeping his hair over ‘Rab C Nesbitt’ style.  Beneath his nose he sports a larger version of Adolf Hitlers moustache – though I wouldn’t compare him with that over ambitious dictator.  Lukashenko has been described (by the US no doubt) as the last dictator of Europe, after the Balkans debacle in the 90s.  In good dictator style he has pictures of him everywhere and the old vanguard are everywhere too – Lenin’s statue stands in the City and you’ve got Lenin street and Sovyetska street etc etc.
+++++The capital of Belarus is Minsk and it’s second city lays on the Ukranian border near Chernobyl. Our destination was the second city with a distance of only 290 kilometres. I could probably clear that in 2 – 3 hours in UK, but there it took 5 hours. No mountains, no dramatic scenery that would take your breath away. Perhaps that’s why many of the German soldiers went barking mad on their way to the oil fields. It’s swamp, marsh and woodland. Trillions of mosquitoes and spiders – the perfect setting for Mirkwood. There are towns where the houses are entirely made of wood and that’s exactly what they’re made of. Dachas or country houses as the dictionary describes them. It’s where the city folk go on the weekend to get away from the smog covered city and its industrial 19th Century engine.
+++++Gomel is the name of the second city, an unremarkable city on the troubled border of Ukraine. It has two main corporations that host most workers; the power station and the oil company. Natural resources naturally with barely a Hybrid motor in the city. Russian cars will weave in and out of the traffic at twice the speed limit, a danger to the public, like the ignorant cunting German BMW drivers. I don’t blame these childish drivers but the incompetent police who don’t catch them.
+++++One phenomena you will see here is the number of beautiful women. There’s loads and they’re nearly all slim. All the young ones are slim most of the old ones get fat. Not sure what sparks the transformation, maybe it’s marriage or childbirth or the realisation that there’s fuck all left in the city and their dreams are dashed against the crumbling, graffiti strewn walls they walked past every day. That’s called a lack of expectation management. Like the Iraqi and their counterpart Kurds every fucker is hooked up to a phone. The mobile is perhaps one of the most important gadgets of their time, alongside the car of course. The mobile turns them into virtual zombies. I remember on the way to the ‘In-Laws” Dacha we came across an accident and the car in front stopped. The driver got out. He was a balding man sporting one massive gut. He had Nike trainers on and a clip on earpiece. He thought he was one cool motherfucker, a sex symbol for the ladies. It was the earpiece that got to me though. We skirted around the police and the trashed vehicle only to find out the driver had climbed out the wreckage and expired, spread eagle some 5 metres from his car. A valiant effort, I say to get to the road.
+++++As well as mobile phone proliferation, you will see a high number of visible alcoholics. They congregate at the base of the blocks and stumble and shout. It seems that this behaviour is silently accepted and just have to move on and they ignore you anyhow. This is the place where you can buy Vodka that’s cheaper than water. The bottles of Pivo are about 1 litre to 1.5litres – that’s a 3 pint bottle. You can get 1 litre cans of beer too – they look absolutely marvellous. I tried one, took me ages to get through it.


We took the kids for a walk in the park.  Fuck me, that was an eye opener.  We kept on telling our son to stop speaking English or we’ll have every alky around trying their bestest English and talk about Manchester United.  I’ve got to admit the park does look nice.  There’s an area that has little children playhouses made of wood – what the designers didn’t take into consideration was the junkies and alkies that would used these as free accommodation despite their cramp conditions.  We avoided this area and went to the pond.  People come here and fish, drink, drink and drink.  There’s a group of rowdy drunk men dancing and shouting – I’m advised not to take photos, and I don’t – I’m not stupid.  Well, not much anyhow.  One the way back we pass through an area that looks like it’s a scene out of the walking dead.  Not the people, but the state of the place.  There’s a play area for the kids.  That’s what the wife said it was, it looked like metal poles shaped in various twisted shapes to match the twisted mental state of the designers. I wouldn’t send a group of young soldiers over this area because of the very restrictive company Health and Safety rules.



Mutant fruit too heavy for the tree.

The in-laws have got this little country house called a dacha and it’s about 20 kilometres from the city.  The dacha is bursting with life. I mean, one of the apple trees in the garden has a broken bough that cannot support the weight of the fruit. I don’t know if reactor 3 at Chernobyl, 28 years ago did any good when it blew up, but apparently 60% of the fallout landed here in Belarus. Must have had an effect on the plants. The apples don’t exactly have eyes and ears, or hurl abuse at you as you’re about to pick them, but they’re pretty big.
+++++There’s a van that comes around every day and sells his goods. A queue of people stand by and get what they need. Dadushka comes back with some ice cream and a bottle of Kvass. Kvass looks just like beer, except it isn’t – it’s a malty, fizzy drink, apparently it’s good for you, so the adverts go. Reminds me of the 1950s adverts boasting the healthy properties of coca cola and cigarettes etc etc.
+++++There’s a split in this little dacha community. One one side there are workers of the power plant and on the other side, the oil company. The road in the middle is perhaps the most unkept here as they’re pretty house proud, these lot. That’s the responsibility conundrum there. Dadushka (Grandad – Father in law) was given the plot of land and the house from his place of work. It stems back to the old USSR times when everyone had something and there were hardly any oligarchs – the only Oligarchs were in the Kremlin. Now they appear to be in every major city, while the little villages have to fend for themselves – which they do pretty well by the look of things. They live off the land and sell their vegetables at the side of the road, outside of their houses. On small tables plates of vegetables and fruit mounted up ready to be sold to any passerby.
+++++“Oh – look a dog! Somebody call the local radio station and inform the listeners that there’s a dog without an owner wandering the countryside!” I shouted this out while pointing at a lone dog, but the lone dog turned out to be a pack of 8 dogs and they looked hungry. In the UK, present day, this would be a terrible site – lock up your children, they’re going to be eaten! Back in the 70s there were packs of domesticated dogs whom the owners had let out the house to get some leg stretch. Pussy present day society, molly coddled and fed by the state. Don’t get me started.

Tumours and the NHS


You don’t need a Tardis to travel back in time.

Off topic here, but there’s a story in the newspapers about some kid with a brain tumour. The parents took their son to Spain to receive treatment he couldn’t get on the UK NHS system. Funny that isn’t it? If we were to wait for all the bureaucratic NHS bullshit to get round to operating on my daughter’s head, it would likely take up to 10 months to do. Waiting for a GP, Dermatologist, Pediatrician, then approval for operations, tests etcetera etcetera. That’s my pessimism showing through there, but I think that family that hit the news struck a chord and while our case was not as dire as theirs, it certainly has similar strands. Needless to say the hospital we took our daughter was a broken down, 1960s, building – being repaired and constructed whilst still in operation. Potholes in the entrances to the hospital and heavy plant equipment moving with no demarcation. A Health and Safety Executive would have a field day here, if they had any power or any legislation to wield. There were telephones that looked like they’d been dragged out of a UK museum – they had the ring piece on them that you dialled. They nurses used ring folders and wrote in pen! Actual pen! No computers at the desk of the children’s ward.
+++++She was operated on and the growth on her scalp was removed. From start to finish, it took six days to be done. No fucking around with approvals here or there. From an initial appraisal, to seeing the actual surgeon, to getting it done. All for £60. Wow.
+++++The doctor here, is pretty hardcore, he had a go at an elderly woman who was feeding her grandchild a pizza. He chastised her on her poor choice of food and the damage it was causing her granddaughter.
+++++A lone 2 year old boy ran down the corridor past queuing people holding children.
+++++“Is that yours?” A nurse asked a woman, who was chatting on the phone. The woman nodded.
+++++“Well. Go and get him then.” She demanded and the woman trotted off down the corridor in her high heels to catch her son.
+++++There was no fucking around here with all that PC bullshit and I was happy with that. Mollycoddling motherfuckers in the UK. Sorry about the language, but all this PC shite has caused the UK to be in such a turmoil with people taking the piss. Race, Religion, Culture, Benefit, disability cards being played and people being afraid to verify the bullshit.  People afraid to be accused of being racist… sexist…. nazi…. hate crime ist….. fuck it. It’s about education and telling people what they can and can’t do and the fucking legal system is making a mint out of it. Those fucking lawyers, solicitors and claims companies are laughing as the ordinary person turns on each other and their employers in order to squeeze money out of them.

The next time I need a speedy operation, I know where I’ll be going next.  We had scans done, blood tests done and all the results came through during our time there.  That’s top quality despite the hospital looking like a dystopian vision of the future.  Our daughter’s just been to the hospital – the doc’s had a look and said they will book another appointment for her.  This morning we got the appointment confirmation and in good NHS timely style it’s in 2015.  What fucking use is that?  If we hadn’t have taken her to Belarus to get the lump removed it would be talking to us by the time we got it removed by the fucking NHS.


Being the victim of a department clear out wasn’t such a bad thing when your job was in Iraq. Especially with the jihadists banging on the door to the ancient Kurdish capital of Erbil. The atmosphere at work was becoming more like a scene out of the ‘Game of Thrones’ with all the rumours, lies and deception. Despite the high pay – I’m relieved to be out of that corrosive arena. I’m now pursuing work in local areas now where the only flak I get is from the wife and kids. I learnt valuable lessons in Iraq – that money isn’t everything. Yeah, it helps, but family and friends are more important.
+++++I see the gradual mission creep of the US and I can see parallels to Vietnam. Naturally the British are following in the heels of the US, never far out of the arse of the president is the head of the prime minister. Where does it start? Back to 1991? Probably further back than that. But I want to start in August 1990.


I was on an Alberta plain in Canada at the time – getting beasted. I’d only been in the Army a few weeks and I’d been sacked from the FDC (Fire Direction Centre), sent to the BQMS then onto an M109 Self Propelled Gun with a crew of guys who were going to make my life shit for 3 weeks. I don’t blame them either – I didn’t have a clue what to do on an Artillery Gun. I soon learnt and was preparing the charge bags, which were the US variant. They were easy to sort out as they were in white bags and you just simply put them on top of each other depending on how far you wanted to throw the 98lb shell. My name was Nig for that time and I was happy with that. Nig has no racist connotation, but it was thought to mean ‘New Intake Gunner’ or ‘New In Germany’.
+++++Tommy Huntley came round to the gun one day and told us that the Iraqis had invaded Kuwait.
+++++“My Mam and Dad’s in Saudi,” I say. And they’d been there for a year now. My dad had gotten a new job with British Aerospace Corporation (as it was known then).
+++++“Guess where we’ll be going for Xmas?” Tommy says.
+++++“Fuck’s sake!” Curses all round at the thought of Xmas in the middle east.
+++++“Hey, we’re off to Ireland, man! We’re not gannin’. That’s all sorted oot.”
+++++We had a tour of Northern Ireland booked in the January for 6 months. Sunny Bessbrook sounded just as far as Kuwait at the moment in Canada.
+++++“They’ll get yer parents out if they’re in any bother. Saudi’s protected anyway,” Tommy goes to me.
+++++And that was that. The exercise carried on for what else were we to do? If we were off to the middle east, then an exercise was just what we needed.

* * *

post_august-1“Oh – for fuck’s sake.” A Lieutenant said as I ambled into the group of men designated a ‘gun runners’. We were to be shown where the M109 Artillery Guns were to be put. The Battery Reconnaissance Officer would take us out in a Land Rover and show us where our individual guns would go. I was the only Gunner who’s helmet had no cover. I think it had been stolen from me in the early hours of initial deployment.
+++++In the Land Rover we’re all over the place in the back. It’s off road and it’s like a group of particles banging off each other. Great example for a physics lesson. Thank god for the Mark 2 kevlar helmet. We all stink, but we don’t notice it, our clothes are a just dirty and sweaty. The Rover stops and gradually the guys get out and they’re shown where to run to – the officer points in a direction near these sticks with triangle pointy bits on them that point off in a direction. I hadn’t been shown what to do here and this was my first job since I’d been sacked from the Fire Direction Centre. I get shown and then we’re all taken to a point where all the vehicles would pass through.
+++++It was about 34 degrees out here and not a cloud in the sky. Straw coloured grass to the horizon on undulating terrain. We could see the smoke of a convoy approach, the ground under our feet began to vibrate. Then they’re upon us, one after the other, 40 tonne hulks racing towards us. We began to run and my Gun turned in my direction, its engine screaming as it did a 90 degree turn, churning up the ground. I ran for a good kilometre to a point where the Lieutenant pointed out to me and I halted in front of the vehicle willing the vehicle’s brakes to work. Dust and earth flew up to me and into my face as the M109 halted, a near skid. Out came Baz, climbing out of the commanders hatch squeezing past the Sergeant with a menacing look on his face. He was nearly twice my size. This was a little like David and Goliath. A fist came crashing out and into my chest nearly dropping me.
+++++“Where the fuck are we meant to go!?” He screamed.
+++++“Here!” I shout back, “I was sent here!”
+++++“Yer dumb cunt!” He gets the driver to manoeuvre the big gun and points it in the correct direction.
+++++That was the precedence to a shitty 3 weeks in the prairie on an eggy, cordite smelling gun. To make matters worse we had an officer cadet who joined the gun for four days and I remember him telling me how he was going to me a commander and would be my boss in the future. Smug fucker. I never met the bloke again – thank fuck.
+++++The last fire mission was done and we were racing across the prairie in these M109 Guns – they’re basically tanks, but don’t tell that to an Artilleryman or they’ll have a go. The rations were thrown at opposing guns who were driving alongside; we had six to a battery. Eggs were flung, high angle and splattered onto the chassis. Fuck! That’ll be me cleaning that up!
Back at the camp, we park up in the Gun Park and begin maintenance. The Sergeant and the others go off on the piss while I’m stood there like a pleb – didn’t have a clue, sorting the gun out.
+++++Impetigo scabbed my lower lip and it looked like somebody had taken a knife to it. I had to use my own basin and not shave it. A fucking nightmare.
+++++Despite this, I went into the City of Medicine Hat and partied. Swimming pools, giant foam stetsins, massive cars, massive portions of coke and burgers and fucking huge ice creams – no wonder they’re all fat over here!!


I digress…. ISIS are a wave of thought. An idea, a way of life and a surge of influence through the world especially in the minds of young muslims. 1407532171724_wps_1_Pictures_posted_online_ofWhat they’re doing in Iraq and Syria is nothing new and even worse shit happened in the last century. It’s just that you get to see it on your computer whenever you google beheading, buried alive, execution etc etc. The Americans had the Vietnam war in their living rooms in the 1960s and 70s and didn’t like the taste that. Luckily both World Wars didn’t get the same media attention and the horrors were safely hidden by technological constraints. I suppose this was part of the reason why so many of the people coming back from the front felt alienated by their experiences as none of the selfish people back home knew what or could comprehend what had happened to them.
+++So, ISIS burying people alive, shooting women, kids, men, chopping heads off – nothing novel there – it’s already happened and on an even grander scale especially during the great upheavals of peoples post World War 1. Swathes of people, literally smears of dark stains from outer space could be seen on the land as they were forcible moved and exchanged – I’m talking about the Greeks and the Turks of either country to be ‘repatriated’. There were massacres, but you don’t really get to hear about that. Millions of Russians…. I’m lucky. Very lucky I was born in UK.

The Turks were just as bad... anyone else?  The US, UK, French, German, the list goes on....

The Turks were just as bad… anyone else? The US, UK, French, German, the list goes on….

The Americans are now re-arming the Kurds to protect their US interests in the Oil reserves up in Kurdistan. The ancient city of Erbil may hold. It will get suicide attacks and may even be in range of ISIS artillery soon. I like it how the US begin by saying they’re not going to get involved and then all of a sudden we’ve got US special forces on the ground, Air strikes, Drones, Arms shipments to the Kurds etc etc. When there’s oil and it’s in the US interest then they’ll help. The Yazidis are just a sideshow to the US. There have been many more massacres in Syria on an unprecedented scale, but weren’t publicized.
+++++I run a parallel to this with trying to get a book sold. Unless you have the right media you will not get the attention.
+++++Forget the parallel for now, but for Iraq. Her only survival here is unity as we all know – sectarian violence is tearing it up. Already the Kurds have an even stronger foothold in the north, with a probably US backing. With the world police backing you up, you’re sorted. The only way you’re going to get the jihadists out of the country is with Western boots on the ground. The Iraqis just don’t have the discipline to deal with them. The Kurds are doing okay – the Peshmergah have a reputation of being hard bastards to uphold. The rest of them…. fuck. I was there in 2004 and saw just how corrupt/ undisciplined their security forces were. We’d arm the police, kill an insurgent and recover the weapon we’d given the policeman a week earlier.

The death of Robin Williams now eclipses groups of Yazidis clinging onto helicopters to escape the murderous jihadists.
+++++Many of the Jihadists are UK, Australian, US and other western nationalities. If they survive their jihad and come back they should be deported to the country which they fought in and tried there. They may be executed depending on the capital punishment system of that country. I think it’s hanging in Iraq. It would certainly make the world a better place and it would be preferable to the Tax payer paying for a prison cell for these brainwashed numbskulls.


A few weeks ago we had a plane go down in the Ukraine and fuck me – it’s a Malaysian Airline. Here we go, let’s wait for the conspiracy theories. I didn’t hear any about the airline, but that it was a Russian jet that shot it down. President Putin is getting flak from every fucker about the plane going down. Let’s do some number crunching now. How many people affected by the crash? Take the number of passengers and cube it – 25,672,375…. maybe not. Whatever took it down didn’t vaporize it, but probably took out the wing and that’s what initiated the uncontrolled descent. We may never get to find out who press the button to make that missile fly or who authorised the firing of it. One thing’s for sure. It has widened the gap between the US and the Russians…. That means the UK, Germany and the rest of Europe too. Businesses are feeling the pinch due to embargoes. Even over here in Belarus – I’m writing this in Belarus – the fish imports from US are going to stop soon. The Ukrainian President’s chocolate brand is slowly dwindling in Gomel’s shops as they’re no longer importing them in. A patch of land mainly occupied by Russians and contested by them, is that what it’s for? Of course not – the Germans don’t want the Russians making land gains like they did 50 years ago. A bit rich coming from zee Germans. Whenever you get a mix of languages, cultures and colours, you’ll get divide and clash.
+++++One solution – brainwash every fucker. Forget your nationality, name, colour, race and creed. Reminds me of We, written by, Yevgeny Zamyatin, who inspired Orson Welles to write 1984.

Rolf Harris and The History that is written by Liars

I was listening to a Kate Bush album and one song was sung by the disgraced entertainer : Rolf Harris. I thought nothing of it, and then – fuck! He’s a fucking Paedophile!! I should have been shocked and disgusted – turned off the song; but I didn’t. It was about being an artist and the effect of rain on his paintings.
+++++Rolf Harris has been turned into a monster, in a matter of seconds, based on the calculated, decision of a panel of people in a building in London. Made global news within the minute – as quick as the speed of light. As soon as the verdict was made, I cringed at reports of people coming forward attempting to claim compensation for alleged abuse he’d done to them. Can money really heal that sort of damage? No – but it fucking helps. “I got my arsed squeezed on Top o’the Pops in 1973 and I can’t sleep, have sex or form meaningful relationships with other men…” — absolute bollocks I say.
+++++I saw the blind, resolute and loyal wife accompany the man to the court on each day, apart from the day of the verdict. It seemed that the reality of it all had come crashing down and that veil had been lifted with life shaking consequences. All those years and was the wealth worth it – the limelight? From the words of Jesus, Voltaire, FDR, Churchill and Peter Parker’s (aka Spiderman) Uncle, With power, comes great responsibility. The fallout of changing attitudes to sexuality has taken its toll on powerful and influential people. Many of them failed to see into the distant future and see a world where the powerbase of man and woman has shifted. Like the latent effect of asbestos, the changing attitudes of society will bite people in the arse. Maybe there’ll be compensation for all those homosexuals who were booted out of the British Army before it was made legal. Maybe the slaughter of all those animals in the abattoirs… no, maybe that’s a step too far for the veg munching, tree hugging, liberals out there.

Yesterday I saw on Facebook 20 Iraqi Soldiers all lined up, kneeling preparing to die. Just how you prepare for that is another matter, but credit has to be given to these men as they didn’t go kicking and screaming. One after the other, faces exploded as bullets crashed in through the back of their heads. I think I’d have wrestled a rifle from one of those men in the balaclavas at least. Iraqi Soldiers Dead12345To think I was only a few hour’s drive from that place last month. I’m not sure how I would have reacted, maybe I wouldn’t have put myself in that situation in the first place and fought the death. I read the comments other people made and saw with dismay that people had attributed a religion to the executions. Many people ‘don’t know what they don’t know’. I worked in Iraq for 13 months and I worked with many people up there, a split of Christianity, Muslim and Yazedi. Naturally there are towns that are made up entirely of their religion, but no hostilities have occurred. To judge a people and a religion from the comfort of one’s chair in the relative safety of the western world is already a failure in reducing conflict. You aren’t going to completely eradicate bloodshed and war – that’s just plain ‘pie in the sky’ and frankly – fucking boring. To judge – first go and see the people you’re judging, get a taste of their culture, taste their food and shake their hands, look them in the eyes when you speak to them, see their children before you call them mass murdering, blood thirsty animals and call on the so called ‘crusade’ : again ‘pie in the sky’.

My message to these Nationalist extremists is:

“… to grow some fucking balls and do something – it’s okay talking about it, but get off the fucking computer and start a ‘crusade’, arm yourself with a sword and shield and beat back the encroaching tidal wave of multi-culturalism. You may find that you are already too late – about 20 years late, so you’re going to have to stage a guerrilla war. Good luck.”

History and the human brain has a great way of covering up situations and facts. History is written by the victors of battles and wars. History is written by the powerful. History is written by liars. History might as well be transmitted by word of mouth, from generation to generation. Instead, it is tattooed on the skin of paper and outliving the human lives that wrote it, it is then, having survived purges and the immolation of libraries, picked up by our descendants and they act as a voice of bias as to what happened. There are two religions that are both similar and act as a record of history, both subjected to the thoughts and bias of their writers. Islam and Christianity have a very similar history when you look back. Perhaps, if both survive, they may merge, or be the sole reason for our destruction.neurons12345

The rocks don’t lie, fossils don’t lie, they are incorruptible – neither does the camera, so they say. That is provided the film isn’t edited first. The influence the corruption of books are beginning to dwindle due to the rise of technological advances. It’s a pity – fiction books don’t count, they’re already (beautifully) corrupted with the imagination.

ISIS, Iraq and a 1970s childhood

The kitchen was the living room, bathroom and cooking area – it was the centre of our family. It wasn’t a perfect ‘Father, Mother, two kids’ nuclear family in that snapshot of the 1970s, but they were perhaps the happiest days of my life. The weeks would stretch off into an eternal summer bliss where I would explore the ‘fields’ and build dens and form and break alliances and attend to the childish politics of our time. I can remember dogs running freely through the streets, yapping, shitting, pissing on lampposts, screwing each other (and having water thrown on them) – I once saw two dogs conjoined back to back and could not separate; some of the kids would throw stones at this spectacle.

The dreamworld and the catalyst of my fantasy lay in the fields for that held secrets of the past, of days gone by. A path that led to Seaham Mine, and the men that walked there. There were a few slabs of concrete that were set in the bank of a beck that cut a wound through the field. The miners would, after work, bathe here. The route to this area had many paths, forced by the tread and paw of many passing through. Up on the low banks that led to the main path we would sit and eat cold boiled potato from Sunblest bags. The seaview part of Murton could be seen, partitioned by a wooden fence. There were breaches in the fence that children would use to access the fields.

I don’t really remember staying in the house that much, to be perfectly honest. The cul-de-sac had three garages and these would prove useful in hide and seek games. We would line up plastic soldiers of various guises and eras and bomb them with the gravel. Action Man would be turned paratrooper with a shopping bag attached to him and catapulted into the air. A new man arrived into the family and my Christmas was bountiful. I got a bike and I thought I was on highway patrol from CHiPs. Through the streets and onto the paths; wood slats on bricks provided ramps for us and we’d vault into the air from path to road. There weren’t many cars back then either, just dogs and miners. I think on how we used to sit on the kerbs and lay in the grass with no concern. Thirty six years later and parents won’t let their children out of their site. Instead we cook them up in houses and feed them to electronic fantasy; the Call of Duty, Grand Theft Auto and Final Fantasy. We keep them away from bacteria and germ, only to have their effects greater on them due to their low immunity. I wrote a blog post on how parents should be held accountable for their behaviour to their children – if their kids are obese, it’s the parents fault and they should be punished for this. Just recently it was in the news that some parents had to go to the Police for just that.

Now on a different topic and that of ISIS who are currently controlling a city 1 hour 30 minutes drive from here. Mosul is cut in half by the Tigris river that makes its way down to Basrah, a vein of life running through this arid cradle – birthplace of known civilisations and religions. I was a bit concerned I would have to get my Black Widow catapult out to defend myself against these Jihadists, but it seems they’re skirting around the autonomous region of Iraq’s Kurdistan. You don’t want to come in here – I hazard the Kurdish security forces won’t abandon their posts. The Pêşmerge (original meaning ‘those who confront death’) are a group you don’t want to be up against and I’m pleased to say they’re defending my work area as I’m not a good shot with a catapult.

They’re currently sweeping through Iraq like a blitzkrieg through France in 1940. They’re not too bothered about logistical supply as they will steal from the locals. However they may be spreading themselves too thin, recruiting from prison breaks seems to be the best place for quick replacements.

They’ve spread themselves thin like butter and the Iranians aren’t too happy with what they’re doing. The UN is pissed off. Turkey isn’t happy either – there’s a horde of PKK fighters on the border poised to protect Kurdistan if they have the balls to take on the Pêşmerge. Lots of moving parts to this complex issue – about as complex as Northern Ireland with regard to the sectarian dynamic. There are rumours of Saddam loyal personnel in Iraq switching sides to ISIS and it seems that the current leader needs to focus on unity as the Sunnis are going mental. On a side note the Shia and Sunni are both Muslim, but are at odds with each other – I daresay it looks similar to the Catholic / Protestant clashes of Northern Ireland in its most troublesome days.

Anyway, I’ll stay up here on the Turkish border with my Black Widow Catapult and wait for the smoke signals.

It’s not all that bad – we’re still watching the World Cup up here!



Women on the Front Line of the British Army?

Women on the frontline of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces? Yes, please! Get them on the frontline to see what all the fuss is about. They might soon regret that decision, but that’s a decision most men make on their ‘Baptism of fire’ : a very subjective and qualitative engagement of aggression and fear. There are a lot of shouts and cries from the men of the Armed Forces, objections and doubts. All understandable, but one thing they all share and that’s the fear of being undermined by a female, that a female can do a job better than them. The Armed Forces still has its macho image, though I daresay the MOD’s media/press/advertisement cell are trying desperately to dispel that image – it will take a few years, and it’s not in generations as generations can change perception and attitude pretty quickly (we’re very adaptable to our surroundings).
+++++The main reason we didn’t have any women in the Infantry and the Armoured Corps (Tanks) is because it was feared the men would take unnecessary risks to protect their female peers, if in difficulty. The MOD credits our British Male population with high values of chivalry. There are secondary reasons, and that is many men are attracted to other women, it’s true that homosexuals are in the minority on this regard. So, men are attracted to women, no surprises there and women offer a pleasant distraction to the men who may fight over them and impregnate them with babies. I served in an Artillery Regiment for 22 years and I saw women from the very start, albeit in office duties as Royal Army Pay Corps and Womens Royal Auxiliary Corps (commonly referred to by the men as Weekly Ration of Army C*** – sorry, had to share that with you). Slowly, insidiously perhaps, I saw my first woman in the Artillery in the mid 90s – I don’t want to give an exact date, but there’s a good picture of her with a 98lb High Explosive Shell cradled in her arms. Some might argue it should be a baby in the crook of her arms, but I don’t think she did a bad job, in fact I daresay she did the job better than most men. There’s the urge to prove yourself in the face of adversity and she was that, brave and stubborn. Black people, gays, and all that minority stuff that’s slowly going, but there’s always a residue of racism, nationalism, sexism, – always – you can’t get away from it, you can’t erase it, it’s human nature to be xenophobic on an infinitesimal scale, even if you don’t consciously realise it.
+++++Equal Rights is a strange concept, because we’re not equal: we’re all different. Boring statement aside, we are unique, perfectly honed, biological machines with more shapes and sizes than a NEXT clothes warehouse. But the job that we’re about to go into isn’t different, it has needs of the operator/worker/soldier who will fit into that job. In the British Army there are physical tests that have to be done prior to entry – unfortunately the tests are adapted to the general physical shape of a man and a woman at certain age categories that go up to 60 (I think). So you’ve got different sets of criteria for Men and Women. In my humble opinion it should be a physical test for the job, but making no distinction of the sex of the person taking the test. I know women who can outrun men easily, I don’t think there’s a need to have a 2 or 3 minute (not sure on specifics) gap between men and women for a 1.5 mile run. In an operational environment there will be a time when you will need to call on those physical attributes that were tested many moons prior to the deployment and if you cannot, then there has been a failure in the system. That won’t be too difficult in any large organisation such as an Army. It is a shambling, cobbled, burdensome beast with many excessive hangers on slowing the creature, each with its own constricted and twisted lines of informal communication. Such as life, the Army is a test of personality and character, for sure. I digress.
+++++So, after all that. Women in the Army? Too right, but it won’t come without a price. There’s always a price to pay, and that may be in blood – be it on a birth table, on the battlefield or in the Barracks. We’ll adapt to it, like the Americans and the Israelis and embrace it. It will be the selling point of the British Army, that it’s an organisation for Equal Rights.
+++++Sorry, going back to Equal Rights. I did an Equality and Diversity course back in 2011 and found with shock and horror that Equal Opportunities/ Rights whatever, is not about treating people the same, but treating them fairly. In an operational deployment where there is frequent engagement with an armed force, the armed force generally don’t employ Equality & Diversity in their tactics or ethos. If you are engaged you will be treat the same as any other man, stabbed, shot, buggered…. buggered… hang on, no – female prisoners may be treated differently from men. There’s a thing called rape and it has been going on for Millenia, that’s a 100% guarantee what will happen if you’re captured by a large force of men. The interrogators will use rape as a tool to get information from the male captives.
+++++Saying that, the battlefield is evolving as technology begins to replace humans. For a conventional war, of machine against machine – yes – such as the Iraq invasion 2003, we probably didn’t need to deploy troops – bold statement here and there’s arguments against this, I bet. After the conflict there will be a need for ground troops to provide the soft, reassurance strategy to gain the support of the people whose country you’ve just pulverised. Robocop is at least a decade away… another bold statement as Arthur C Clark got it wrong and so did Anthony Burgess. The very thought of fixing bayonets and closing with the enemy is a concept that 99.9999% of normal humans would abhor. We try to kill with distance weapons such as support weapons (General Purpose Machine Gun) and then the rifle. Even then, we like to use a lot of air support. We’re not the anglo saxon warriors of yester year with shield and sword. Though there have been situations where this had to happen, something fucked up, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, in the Falklands: bad weather, no air support, you’ve just been ambushed or you’ve ran out of ammunition.
+++++So, to summarise, I think it’s a good thing to bring women into the bloody fold of the infantry world. We’ve got to evolve – if this is indeed evolution, not sure where it’s going, not sure if it’s the right direction. So, to the men and women of the British Army who think this a bad idea : there’s fuck all you can do about it, so let’s just see where this heads off to, eh?
+++++I was going to talk about the Omagh bomb, the value of human life and my experience with the Intelligence groups in Northern Ireland. I’ll make that the topic of my next post.

The Polarities of Morality and Frames of Reference

‘The World is ending, Harry. The World is ending much faster.’ That’s a line from the book ‘The 15 lives of Harry August’ and I must say it was an entertaining read. It’s about a man who relives his life, each death followed by rebirth at the same place and time. Harry attempts to solve the riddle of the world ending, that message passed down to him through the centuries. Later on in the book, word of the 22nd Century is non existant, like they same breed of ‘kalachakras’ were never born. It’s a taste of multiverses and of a reincarnation loops.

I’m reading another book called ‘Soldaten’, and by the title you’ve probably guessed it’s by a German author. It’s a collection of anecdotes from German POWs in UK prisons during the 1940s. It hints on the moral kaleidescope of the POWs and where it spins. It doesn’t spin anywhere near our polars and so it shouldn’t as we haven’t been exposed to the amount of destruction that set europe ablaze. Take the parallel of drivers on the M1 (UK) taking unnecessary risks by driving a little too fast whilst the roads is wet. It is highly probably that these drivers have never been in a vehicle crash and experienced the horrific newtonian mechanics exercising their algebra on the vehicle occupants’ bodies. Had they experienced this then there would be caution and those other things we take for granted like children, family and the sun rising in the morning become all the more important and their significance unveiled from that near death experience. Now we compare it to experiences decades apart, Germans beastly, the Japanese are perhaps worse than the Germans, – the frames of reference are of a British populace in the 1940s. More interesting is the frames of reference of a German populace in the early 1940s; how they slowly change as the war closes in on them and becomes, not this word of mouth rumour or that wild look in those returning from the front. It surrounds them and changes them, but humans are very adaptable, both physically and mentally. The dead lining the street waiting to be identified may become common in the later years of the war, but in the early days – the sight of a dead jewish person would have shocked the common German. This is despite their likely anti-semiticism, many thought that the way that the Jews were being dealt with was wrong and were very much against it. It’s okay for us in the UK to cry shock and horror, but survival is a strong instinct – primordial and basic. Many German civilians did courageous acts of bravery to protect those hunted by the Nazis. Many, though, could only watch them being beaten and driven out.   Your country whilst it is being strong and asserting its identity in many more bad ways than good, is toying with your morals, but you can’t do anything or else you would be colluding and you would too be sent to that place the train goes or marched to a lonely place in the woods.

Frames of reference are where we stand, how we view the world with all our baggage of experiences. Opposite ends of a compass many of us are and view each other on that yin yang circular table of good and evil.

Going back to the drivers on the M1. There are differing frames of reference for every driver and those who drive the fastest are too young, incompetent, inexperienced or insane: or all four. There was a program on TV where 7 or 8 drivers were interviewed on how they drive. Many were blasé and flippant about their overspeeding. When one six year old girl was wheeled into the studio, the reaction of the drivers was apparent. Some broke down in tears. The girl was of course Cerys Edwards who is paralysed and brain damaged from the result of a speeding car that crashed into hers. Here we see the 2nd and 3rd order effects of overspeeding in a vehicle. There’s a £450,000 payout to that girl every year for the rest of her life. She was effectively killed and reborn; trapped in a body with limited functionality. The driver of the vehicle spent only 6 months in prison, but is haunted for the rest of his life, if he has a conscience. I know I would, that’s why I don’t drive like a fucking lunatic. It’s probably the reason why I’m good at assessing risks.   I gave a 30 minute lecture on the first 10 seconds of a generic car crash to a group of 30 Iraqi Kurdish workers. Though they feigned interest very well, I think the lecture was wasted on them. The only way to get it through some people is to get them to experience it. Because they haven’t experienced it they don’t see the reality of it, they don’t feel the helplessness as everything is in motion around you and you tumble into space. What they hold dear and important is the only way to get through to them, so we show them case studies of people in a similar lifestyle as them. Asim Qasim of a small village near Dohuk in Northern Iraq cannot support his family now, he is a cripple and is jobless – basically de-manned in his society’s eyes. That gets their attention and makes them sit up. Once the session is finished they go about their work and back to dangerous driving, no seat belts, kids in front seats with mothers yadee yadee yaah. Punitive measures are perhaps the only way we can reduce the number of deaths, like we introduced in the UK and the UK society kicked back stating that it was a breach of human rights etc etc. The seat belt is a life safer – a broken collar bone and nose from an enthusiastic air bag or an imploded chest (filling with blood), face smashed in? I’d choose the Mike Tyson of an air bag any day.

On a similar note of Frames of Reference… How do we view the celebrities of the world? Through the media lenses that are present in their outlets; the newspapers, TV etc etc. White teeth, make up and smart suits. It’s a bit like putting a band aid on a festering wound. Most notably what the lead singer of the ‘Lost Prophets’. He was definitely a ‘Lost’ Prophet and is likely to be released from prison in 2041. Many of the other stars seem to burn out before their time, like fireworks. Many of us are slow burning catherine wheel s that burst at the birth of child or a wedding etc. But the singers, especially the singers, they go up ripe with colours and shatter into plumes and there they remain like Kurt Cobain, and the rest of them (too many to name), in the backdrop of memory.


In Kurdistan Iraq it’s the year 2626 and the Algebra of Music


Maths and Music. Really? Where's the fun in that?

Maths and Music. Really? Where’s the fun in that?

I think it’s amazing how we feel the need to quantify things.  Take music for example – there are equations to measure the length of a chord, a wavelength and it’s lifespan.  How can you turn something that can sound so beautiful into something as fixed as a set of numbers.  Fixed until they’re combined and we have an alchemy of figures that dance across the blackboard, composed by the mental dance of a mathematician or a madman – or both!  Trigonometric equations that, if read in the right way could be transformed into vibrations of sounds, music and your mood is uplifted – you feel much happy.  Numbers alone make me sad, but turn them into the music they are meant to be by deciphering the code and you have something wonderful.  A bit like those demons out of ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ who were really angels luring him to heaven.  I’m listening to Radio 3 and I can visualise frequencies, octaves, wavelengths and I can see how senseless the whole mess on a board may look like to the untrained eye.  Mayhap the eye be untrained, but the ear doesn’t require any training to let in the nebulae of notes into your head.

Enough of the quantification of music.  Sounds almost blasphemous.  Look at the Daffodil and there is order in its make up – where there is order there is quantification.  Petal numbers to stem sizes the  proliferation of the scattering of seeds on the high seas of a spring breeze (almost poetical there).  There is order in the fractal chaos, you have to look at the whole thing.  Look midway and you see chaos.

Simply fractal.  Generated by a machine made by man.

Simply fractal. Generated by a machine made by man.

Look closely, you see it and stand far back enough and you see it too.  I’m talking about looking on an atomic scale and then zooming out to see the spread of colour on the vast tableau of yellow on the earth.  Sometimes I think ignorance is bliss and often wonder what use this knowledge of understanding would bring.  The control of life systems and sub-systems on the globe to help prolong the lifespan of our species as it expands to bursting point.  Those with little money confined to their tall tenements that falter with age and graffiti as the wealthy live out in the spatial, outer rim of a Lagrangian point.

We’re leading toward artificialness and fabricated support systems to keep humans living and breathing.  Life as we know it may extinguish, or be held captive in ecosystems of our own design to sustain them.  The world is likely to be uninhabitable, and then we have the repercussions of the globe in the form of extreme weather which will eventually conquer the human race and extinguish it to manageable numbers.

I wake up at 4am now.  I think it’s something to do with old age.  Age is proportional to the earliness of you waking.  I get up and study 2 hours of my Diploma which has to be done at that time.  If I studied in the evening I’d be asleep.  It’s a Health & Safety Diploma and requires my full time attention to keep all that information in my head up until the exam when I spew it all out. How Cool Is Writing? I go to the office at six and I’m immediately hit with a farmyard smell.  It’s that manure smell and I can hear the yapping of a dog.  Beyond the accommodation block, behind the fence there’s a flock of sheep and goats.  A small man is riding a donkey and looking to the horizon.  Wow.  Half five in the morning and we’ve got a bloke on a donkey following a load of goats and sheep – no discrimination there.  Dogs hunt behind, in a pack of three, sandy coloured, all, and chasing each other.  I can see the sun rising over the hills to the east, hills bare of buildings, naked and exposed in verdant, gradual, exposures.  I regret not bringing my camera.  I always regret no bringing it, as I want to capture the most awesome skies.  That evening there are Geologists in the camp staring up at the sky.  There are mushrooms of clouds topped with light from the setting sun.   It’s like it’s on fire, such a contrast to its underbelly that roils like a sea in storm.  The heavenly beast loses form and returns to shadow as the sun says goodbye behind Zakho.

The Geologist’s that are here have been milking the goats and drinking the milk.  Very novel and amusing to a Brit.  They milked the goats they caught, with the permission of a young boy shepherd.  The young boy shouldered a Kalashnikov Assault Rifle, presumably to protect his flock.

The people here are ancient I’ve been told.  We’ve got Erbil, the world’s oldest habitable city.  Then we’ve got the ancient demographics.  Ancient demographics that are long forgotten in the dusts of Phoenician marked  tablets.  The Ashuri are rumoured to be 7000 years old, there are evidence of their fabricated equipment and weapons all around Turkey, Iraq and Iran.  They were perhaps the first inhabitants of Assyria and worshipped the God Asshur; an east semitic God.  For the Ashuri it’s about the year 7014.  I say about, because I don’t think anyone really knows, but it’s about the 7th Millenia.

Not sure if a Risk Assessment has been done for this.

Not sure if a Risk Assessment has been done for this.

The Kurdish people here say it’s the year 2626. For the muslims it’s 1435, they’ve got the youngest, biggest religion (if you know what I mean – I don’t want to include Jedi here).  For the majority who have to adopt the Christian year of 2014 and all the fucking crackpots declaring the end of the world we have to make do.  Notably, but not confined to the US, there’s an epidemic of pathetic dependence on religion and what’s more concerning there are a lot of politicians who have some far out ideas, and to be absolutely fucking frank, they’re worse than the Mullahs and the Muslim extremists in their preaching of hatred.  Nutjobs on both religions, if you ask me.

I’m an atheist, who loves the sky in Kurdistan – that’s where I find my peace.


Look after your kids, else they become Biological Weapons

I see the Conspiracy Theorists are at it again to ‘Open’ our eyes. Maybe they should open my eyes to the Muslim plot to overthrow the UK and turn it into a muslim country. Might do it some good, ‘Ill ham-du lillah!!’article-2103729-11D2D553000005DC-347_964x622

What I’m talking about it the sudden disappearance of that fucking Malaysian Boeing-777. It’s not a Cesna or a Sopwith Camel. It’s a motherfucking Boeing-777 and you can play a narrow game of 5 a side in one of those. I get 40kg when I fly on one of those and get to watch all the movies on the back of the seat in front of me. You don’t just lose a plane and get away with it. There’s loads of junk posts on Facebook with images of downed aircraft and the plane on the runway its photoshopped tailfin can be seen at the edge of the photo. Fucking garbage – the internet is a garbage can full of diatribe. There was a time when you were unlucky to be in front of some boring cunt waffling shite – that was him/her and you/ and your mates. Now it’s that one person hiding behind a pseudonym and millions of others subjected to a second of shit. That’s all it takes to read the heading on the post before you scroll down or press the x button (unless the x button directs you to another site). Facebook is 90% shite and 10% worthwhile stuff to read; some of it is downright funny though. It’s a schoolyard but it has gone global – the schoolyard goes beyond the fence and crosses borders (that’s how you spell ‘border’ – not ‘boarder’). Paedophiles posing as 13 years olds can jump into these schoolyards now and tempt your children or even get them to do things online with their cam on – they use blackmail. So, how do we stop this? It’s definitely not banning kids. Like guns in the USA, banning them won’t work.

It’s about education and that’s where parents come in. Check their browsing history as well – don’t show them how to delete it. They probably already know how to do it, but if they’re deleting their Browsing History then something’s happening.effilism Unfortunately many parents are either just shite or are incapable of educating their children. Parents who neglect their children are nurturing a biological social weapon – nurture and neglect may be an oxymoron but that’s just it. Neglect will boost alienation and resentment; usually resentment to people who have more. Because we all want more, don’t we? We all want to get fat and drive fast cars, don’t we? Don’t we? No! Fuck that! The more we get the more we want – that’s the paradox. Oh, what I’d do with all that money, if it were real, we say at the pile of Monopoly cash..

Talking about social networks, or anti-social networks. On Twitter I’ve got 31000 followers, but I only know about 10 of them. About 60% of those followers are not real people. There’s a lot of useless fat in the system of Twitter and I’m surprised people can read all that shite. But that’s it though people don’t read it.

It’s the end of the world as we knew it. I’m sure of it. 28 days later and all that milarky. People gone introvert on a visible level and extrovert on a hidden level. People are glued to their hand held phones, connecting to others, be they fake or real. You see, life isn’t all that simple anymore. There are a whole host of different ways to trip you up. I’m talking about the internet here. That intangible realm some of us like to hide in and pose as someone we are not. Identity theft is on the increase with bank details being copied and used insidiously so as not to attract the attention of the owner of the account, by taking out small amounts of cash at irregular moments. I first saw a zombie in New York. She was a pretty little thing walking down the street with these huge headphones on and talking to nobody in particular. That was in 2010, we weren’t that far gone in the UK yet. The infection hadn’t spread there yet – much. There’s going to be a lot more traffic accidents involving these zombies; head down, walking cross a busy street – bus driver likewise on his phone not paying any attention when WHAM!

We’re beginning to see these Smart Glasses now that will pop up information whenever you stare at a location. That’s going fuck a few people up. One guy in the states was asked to leave the cinema when he had his glasses on. For all they know he could have been broadcasting the film to people across the world. A woman in the states got stopped by police for wearing her glasses while driving. You can’t possibly be fully attentive while browsing the porno sites and driving at the same time. I suppose we’ll have to wait until the cars can take over the driving before we can fully appreciate the power of the smart spectacles.

Well, it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote my last post and that missing 777 plane has been declared crashed with no survivors. How can you prove that? Based on the balance of probabilities you cannot definitely prove it. Those families will be living in limbo until some closure has come to them. That mother of the missing child in the Moors Murder case in the 1960s died without ever knowing where Ian Brady had buried her child. That’s why Ian must live. Me must endure the limbo, if he is experiencing it is another matter. Time to go. Nice talking to you. Have a nice week.

Thomas Ligotti, Ignorance and Celestial Pond Life

The hills around here are spattered with sheep and in their flocks weave dogs and children. 20130307_Chapple3smoking butterflies They’ve been living off these hills for centuries and will for more to come when our grandiose empires have crumbled into political and moral decay.  Their humble existence will outlast us when our Facebook and Mobile phones will become a distant memory.  I stand atop a hill and take in the upward panorama of stars that arc from east to west.  A bright moon highlights the inky blue field in a fulgent glow, the likes of which I haven’t seen before. Am I to stay here and die before the celestial audience who are years away in vast exponential distances away riding on light, bent and twisted beyond measure and comprehension.  I would not mind if I expire here, rather here than a place filled with concrete.  Here there is no struggle, there is existence – maybe existence is too easy.  Maybe, I should struggle and strive to become more and better.

The struggle to keep on going.  It’s about that isn’t it?  We’re all struggling and pushing against resistance.  It’s the resistance that makes it worthwhile.  It’s where our heroes are born; out of hardship and resistance.  If there was no evil, then there would be no good.  Then again – that’s all a load of shit, isn’t it?  Did Josef Stalin think he was evil?  What about Colonel Gaddafi or Saddam Hussein – both had their hands shaken by British Diplomats.  I bet they didn’t think they were evil… therefore I conclude that Good and Evil doesn’t exist.  It’s just a different form of opinion.  I bet some crazy mass murderers didn’t think they were doing something that was called evil.  Noticed how I automatically called a mass murderer crazy.  What if that mass murderer thought that everyone else was crazy?  If opinions were lines drawn in the sand then those that crossed ours would be crazy.

I’m just starting to read Thomas Ligotti’s ‘The Conspiracy Against the Human Race‘ and it’s a fucking depressing, wild and tragic journey into Tom’s mind. smoking butterfliessmoking butterflies The cafepelicanmeaningness of human life and how inconsequential it is.  Millions of interactive beads tearing at each other and multiplying like tadpoles.  When I look into a pond and see it shift and blur as something skits over its surface I think of the empires and conquests made under the thin veil that separates water and air.  Then I think of the others who look into the bowl of space where Galaxies stir and die.  Something else is staring at the whorl of stardust that is us and thinking the same and thinking how insignificant we are, if we ever existed or if they ever had technology to see us.  I think the best way to deal with it is, just carry on normal jogging, or ‘Stay calm and carry on’.  Make the best of it and don’t make too much fuss, unlike Josef and Adolf in the 1940s.  Back to the book; it disconnects everything we give order to, like numbers and time.  I broached the subject of numbers and questioned whether we should be doing things in 10s.  Time on a lower, manageable, visible level is done in 60s and that’s linked geographically, mainly to the sun’s relation to Earth and those imaginary segments we split the planet into .

There’s a possible counter argument to the whole meaningless of it all, the philosophising about it, the deep thoughts and discussions.  zkzegarek2Maybe those that ramble on about it, shouldn’t be here and maybe they should go off and find some place to talk amongst themselves.  Perhaps we need to ignore the horror of the truth and blind ourselves in religion and self consciousness and righteousness.  So what, if we’re nothing more than mere particles interacting with each other, destroying and screwing each other into cycles of birth and destruction.

I recently listened to a guy who went native and spent 2 and a half years with no money whatsoever.  I mean he wiped his arse on used newspapers from the local newsagents.  He cycled 65 km a day to the town to do his business (Not sure what location is 65km from the nearest town – maybe city) and that was his Gymnasium submission.  It was an experiment of sorts for himself I think and he reflected on his time stating that it was perhaps the best time of his life.  He gave up the banks, the TV, the Laptops, the Internet (fuck!!) and Takeaways and pints of lager in the pub.  He lived in a caravan and cooked off a stove.  He said that we as chinks in the social armour are dependent on systems created by ourselves to self sustain.  I thought, that would be a good idea, but it would be nigh on impossible as I have a family and I would lose that if I went native too.  I supposed we are prisoners.  Prisoners to the nearest Mobile Charger point, the social network, to the TV, the Kettle and Nectar Points.  To be able to free yourself from that or ripped from it due to some unexplained catastrophe would be an mental and for some a physical ordeal.  I was fortunate to experience some of this from my time in the Army and that does help, but what of those who are not used to the idea of shitting outside and eating vegetables freshly dug up from the ground rather than GM shite from the supermarkets?  Change or starve.

I once ventured into the relevance of money and worked out that it eased our transition to becoming worm food.  Wow, what a horrible thought, eh?  We’re harvested for the worms to eat?

The north of Iraq is certainly improving, its roads and cities are being prepared for tourism.  There’s even a couple of family parks called ‘Happy Park’.  Might take a bit of getting used to and I think the locals need to start getting their road safety campaign up and running as they’re nearly as bad drivers as Italians (fucking lunatics).