The Return

Right, I'm back. It's been a while (2012) and I'm sure no one will read this (I've had 1 page view in the past 3 months), however, nonetheless, I feel the urge to complain; and so I shall. 

Although I feel my writing has matured, I maintain the same unwavering points-of-view that have been building up over the past 2 years, since my last post. 

I hope you take pleasure in the irritation I experience, for which I take precious time out of my day to share with you; perhaps it shall make you feel a little better about your completely insignificant life. 

Be prepared...

Hash Tags and their Interminable Existence

The hash tag, also known as ‘#’, as used in this context, is an invention of the social media hub ‘twitter’. And that, on twitter, is where it should remain. Too often do I see the (overused) #lad, #LOL, #OMG, #hashtagsarethebaneofmylife. Well, perhaps that last one is not used all that often, but nonetheless my point stands! Hash tags were invented as an accessory for twitter, something that made twitter different to other sites. Therefore, and please correct me if I am wrong, (don’t, not that you would be able to, anyway), is it not a fair request to ask that hash tags remain on twitter, in their natural environment? Something like the hash tag should be endemic, not pandemic!

            I wonder to myself what exactly people are trying to achieve by using hash tags outside of the ‘twittersphere’. On twitter the use is fairly clear: it is a way of organising the various topic threads that can be created on twitter, an aim I am happy to support. However, when used during instant messaging, for example, I see not the point. To be more than frank, if someone is trying to express an emotion, as #’s seem to be used for now-a-days (#LOL, #OMG, etc.), or hoping to describe something or someone, which again was not the original function of the ‘#’ (#lad, #hero, etc.), they can, alternatively, pull their thumb out of their @$$, as some might say, and type the full sentence. The English language has already been deteriorated by text talk (something I may cover in a future essay), social media sites, television and the Americans (something I will cover in a future essay), that it angers me to see, or read, as it may be, someone trying to justify the use of a hash tag in a perfectly rational, up until that point, conversation. Gone are the days when people would speak directly and uninterrupted by keyboard symbols which really have no business lurking around a face to face conversation. Which brings me rather nicely onto my next point (although connected with the former): it is already ridiculous that people use ‘#’ in instant messages, but I do not think that anyone can justify, not even myself if I so wished (which I certainly do not), their use in real life, real time conversation! How on earth can you say to me, ‘I drank half a pint without vomiting, hash tag lad, hash tag beer, hash tag crazy night out’ without expecting me to respond with a rather swift, ‘hash tag f off with your hash tags you uneducated pleb’? The short answer: you can’t. 
               Now, for all of you out there who have not been able to understand exactly what I am trying to say, for whatever reason that may be (perhaps due to lack of hash tags…), I will simplify it for you – that’s right, for you, because I am such a gentleman: anyone caught using a ‘#’ on anything other than twitter will have their trousers filled with fire ants. A bit odd, you may think, but here is my reasoning: if you can take a ‘#’ out of its natural environment, why can’t I do the same with poisonous ants? #LOL…

The French

[Dedicated to Scarlett]

The French. I would like to tell you that that’s all I’m going to write about these foul creatures – they aren’t exactly the most appealing of characters of which to speak. Unfortunately for me, however, no one has had a real go at them in a while; and so, fortunately for YOU, I’ve taken it upon myself to bear the weight of this magnanimous effort, and go all out in one of my unduly unspoken of 500 word rants.

            When I think of the French I don’t think of fine wines, I don’t think of fine art or fine food, I think of sloth, gluttony and ... frogs. These know-it-all pigs make their way through life staking claim to having great taste in all aspects of life, and, for whatever reason, expect the rest of the world to simply accept this, to bow down to them and to look up in awe. Oh how wrong they are.

            I think it’s safe to say that these cheese eating surrender monkeys can go stuff it and head back to their homeland and indulge in their laughable opinions there. Speaking on behalf of not only myself, but the entirety of Europe (bar Switzerland), at absolute least, I would like to suggest that you, the French, stick to what you do best, which is not giving advice to every unlucky soul you pass, but rather ... nothing. Do nothing. Sit at home, smoke your cigarettes, but do nothing else. Honestly, I think everyone would be happier if you kept to yourself and didn’t go around pestering others about the arts, mooching off every kind soul who’s willing to offer momentary kindness – a place to stay, something to eat. You drive us nuts, all of you, there are no exceptions (not in my opinion, at least).

           On top of this, I’ve found that something the frogs love to do is when someone, who doesn’t speak French, asks a Frenchman a question they have this tendency to insist on replying in French. Now… why? They know they’re making things more difficult, they know that they could simply reply in English and help a stranger out. But no, they are determined to make everybody’s lives as difficult as possible. Are they too proud to reply in a foreign language? Are they trying to get retribution for something? I don’t know, and I fear I never will. But regardless of whether I ever understand why they do this, I wish they would stop.

           What I’ve mentioned above is only the tip of the iceberg. The French are so egotistical, so up themselves holy about every single thing they say, do or think, that I find it incredible that they haven’t gone extinct yet due to feeling it proper to only make love to themselves and no one else!

           To everyone who isn’t French, I have only this to say: you may not be able to control your future, but for God’s sake make sure there isn’t a Frenchman in it! You’ll thank me.

Evaluate the lack of common sense of selfish train-goers.

It’s a busy day; you’re trying to get to work on time. You sit anxiously on the train, hurrying the driver through some sort of telepathy to get you there faster. Finally! Your stop. But wait, what’s this? Some inconsiderate know-it-all thinking it makes more sense to push in front to get onto the train before it has even had a chance to unload its current passengers? It is this, the lack of common sense of selfish train-goers, which shall be the topic of today’s essay.

It doesn’t take a genius, or a mathematician, or a physicist to work out that if you have a closed amount of space then only so many people can fit inside it at any one time. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist, or an architect, or a visionary to be able to see that if you have a gap (a train door perhaps) of certain size, that it is simply not possible for a group of people to pass out through it when there is an equally large but much less aware group trying to force their way through in the opposite direction.

It has come to the point where I almost feel that train platforms should have their own traffic system – red to stop, green to go. Now, whether that would actually solve the issue of self-absorbed train-riders, I don’t know, but at least it would mean that people are trying to do something about it, instead of letting the problem fester and stagnate. I would much rather see a long line of idiots than a gaggle of them – at least then we would give off the impression that there is some sense of organisation within our society.

The fact that our lives (the lives of the non-idiots) are so greatly governed by all those brick-heads out there (the majority, unfortunately) is not only a statement of our failure as a society to curb the behavior of the ‘moronic neighbour’, but also a sign of the ever prevalent weakness of those WITH common sense. It saddens me to think that we, the ‘better’, as controversial as that may be, are being forced to succumb to the will of the idiotic, self-absorbed Neanderthals that surround us, due only to their sheer number. Even I, setting aside the fascist, racist, sexist, arguably over the top extremist possibilities, am lost as to how to deal with these futile creatures once and for all in a single massive sweep of these bugs that cover the formerly magnificent windshield of life.

And so, with lack of a solution as to how to rid ourselves of these ‘things’, I must simply sit back and watch as the world slowly comes to a grinding halt thus bringing human life and all existence on Earth to a swift end. And to think, all of this due simply to the random collection of atoms that created this army of &$#$-@!%!s.

A Rant Regarding Reality

Personally, I find it intriguing how all these issues connected to global warming and the potential destruction of the Earth should, in theory, bring us as members of the same planet together, yet, still, those very things causing the destruction of the Earth (use of oils, plastics, deforestation, and so on) are ripping us as a single species apart. I just find it interesting how we, as the future of the world, are taught about all of these matters and how we should and can avoid them, while, simultaneously, those currently in charge sit back and argue over cases that should really be able to sort themselves out, or should not have occurred in the first place. We don’t learn from our mistakes, no matter how much the government, or anyone else for that matter, tells us we do. Pessimism is the new optimism. In short, the world's f***ed, and so are all of us individually, so, frankly, let’s all just become weed smoking, sex driven hippie peace activists. I know I’d be happier doing that; wouldn’t you?

Loud chewers in cinemas should be gagged and thrown onto the streets. Discuss.

                I think it’s safe to say that one of the most annoying things that any person can do in the confines of a cinema is chew loudly. We have all been in a situation where the lady or gentleman sitting in front, behind or beside us has had a rare mouth deficiency preventing them from chewing with their mouth closed – or at least that’s what I presume the case to be, as I find it hard to believe that someone could be so inept and inconsiderate as to not chew with their mouth closed while amongst a crowd of people all trying to be silent in order to watch the motion-picture on the screen in front of them. While the sorts of people who, unfortunately, have contracted this oral disease vary greatly, the edible culprits always seem to be of the same variety.

“At number three we have… ice! Ah yes, ice. Cold watery goodness, condensed and made bite size! How convenient. Who could resist those wonderful cubes left stranded at the bottom of your coke cup after all those savory snacks left you parched beyond your wildest dreams?

At number two… crisps! Those beautifully crafted potato chips, baked and seasoned in order to provide you with your very own unique tasting experience. Oh the joys!

And finally, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the one, the only… popcorn!!! Yes, that’s right folks; we always knew he was a strong contender, but boy! I don’t think anyone expected him to win 12 years running!”

Yes, popcorn. The substance that provides that ever-present ‘crunch’ that some people are simply not able to resist making. Why they are unable to resist it, I shall never know. I find it a rather simple concept, actually. Step 1: take a piece of popcorn. Step 2: place popcorn in mouth. Step 3: close mouth. And step 4: chew, savour, swallow. Unfortunately, it would seem that far too many people forget step 3.

I can honestly say that I don’t think there is a more unappreciated sound in the vicinity of a cinema than that of the open-mouth popcorn crunch. How on Earth is one supposed to concentrate on a movie when the idiot sitting near you is munching away unnecessarily loudly, seemingly completely unaware of the fact that others can hear them! A surprise to all of us, I’m sure. And although many have told me that there is something deeply gratifying about eating popcorn loudly, I implore you not to do it in the cinema – if you really wish to eat popcorn loudly just buy a few hundred bags and stay at home all day, munching as loudly as you want; that way, we’re all winners: you get to chew out loud, and we don’t have to put up with you, you miserable oaf.

And so, to come to my conclusion, it is because of this, the immeasurable level of irritation caused by the aforementioned ‘miserable oafs’, that leads me to support the (definitely not over the top) notion that any person found guilty of chewing out loud unnecessarily should be gagged using their own t-shirt, and thrown out of the cinema by two hulking black men – don’t ask about the specifics, just go with it. Thank you.

Evaluate the level of irritation caused when a Swede says the phrase 'really much'.

I have noticed, as of late, that increasingly so I am hearing the phrase ‘really much’ being used amongst Swedes. Speaking now to all such people: I can fully understand that English is not your first language, and that Swedish, being a Germanic language by origin, will be significantly different regarding certain areas of grammar. However, when I remind you that that phrase does in fact make absolutely no sense, even in the slightest, but you then continue on to use it in front of me, I become a little disgruntled. Considering the abominable sentence ‘I like that really much’, I remind you that that is a pile of complete and utter manure. You could say ‘I like that VERY much’, or ‘I VERY much like that’, but trying to argue with an Englishman that ‘I like that really much’ is correct grammar is, to say the least, a mistake. Saying ‘I like that really much’ is about on par with saying ‘I really very like that’, or, to stray momentarily from the set phrase, ‘I cat flower run’ – do you understand where I’m coming from now?

                This having been said, I do not hold the Swedish children responsible for this outrage. If you track back slightly to where these gullible, naïve children are learning THEIR form of English (and I say THEIR form because at this point it’s strayed so far from true English at times that we don’t even want to claim it as our own language) then we can get slightly closer to the root of the problem. The Swedish teaching system is debatable, at the very least. Some argue that it does a magnificent job. Others would argue that it does a terrible one. I am of the latter. Any teacher who, supposedly, knows the English language and has even been given permission to teach the future of their country that language then you would be rather shocked to hear that they, for many years now, sit back and relax as their prosperous, or perhaps not so prosperous, students unintentionally pick up and start speaking complete rubbish. I would have thought that those teachers whose job it is, the job they are being paid to do, would have the common sense and courtesy to stand up every now and again and point out that the nonsense coming out of their mouths is so far from correct that they should really be ashamed of themselves, and go have a time out in the corner, perhaps. Yet alas, the teachers do nothing, and simply continue to eat their pickled Herring and admire their Volvo V70 – which looks EXACTLY LIKE EVERYONE ELSES, I might add.

                And so, to conclude, I sincerely hope that you, the Swedish people, realise exactly what you’re doing to our language, and I ask you from the bottom of my heart to simply choose a different set of words to describe how much you like something. I would really much appreciate that.