I heard recently that not long after 9/11, Lee from boyband Blue said somethign along the lines of "So what if all those people died - elephants are getting slaughtered every day". Harsh, but fair or misguided sentimentalism?
Well firstly, let's look at the whole issue of spending millions of pounds saving endangered species - many of which we have never heard of. Would we even miss the ones we have heard of? I mean, I can't see that the world is a worse place for the lack of Dodos, Sabre-toothed tigers, or the Peruvian blue-tipped humming bird, in the same way we don't miss T-Rex or Diplodocus. What is the obsession here? Will the Cassowary go the same way as the Moa? Quite probably. Have you heard of either? Possibly not.
Apart from some animals having a very valid position in the food chain, it seems that the only other reason is that 'it would be a shame' if they became extinct. Well, I'm sorry, but that's not good enough for me.
Secondly, we have this guilt about being the dominating species on the planet, and not giving a damn about any other species. Do we really think that if bears could talk, fire guns and drive cars they'd have the survival of the human species at the top of their agenda? Somehow I think not.
Lastly, scientists admit that we don't even know how many different creatures there are on the planet, and we are discovering thousands of new ones every year. So what woud happen if they became extinct before we discovered them? Nothing much really. We'd never have missed them.
So, let's stop saving animals for sentimental reasons and start saving the ones that really matter. While we're at it, let's actively destroy the ones that have no reason at all to exist, but cause misery to millions of people. Wasps, mosquitos and snakes to name but a few.
Monday, 17 September 2007
Thursday, 6 September 2007
I Am Your Father Luke
Ok, so I was one of the people who put 'Jedi' down as my religion on the last census. Some guy sent an email round saying that if 10,000 people did it, then we'd have an official recognised religion on our hands. What actually happened is that, although tens of thousands of people did put Jedi down, we all got lumped under 'Other'.
That is simply not fair. We still smile smugly at ancient races worshipping the Moon, and believing thunder to be the anger of the Gods. But most, if not all, modern religions are based on books, stories, belief and hearsay too. So why can't I cite Star Wars as a religious text, and claim to belive in The Force? Let's be completely honest with ourselves here - it's no more fanciful than most religions today. We just need a leader - anyone?
That is simply not fair. We still smile smugly at ancient races worshipping the Moon, and believing thunder to be the anger of the Gods. But most, if not all, modern religions are based on books, stories, belief and hearsay too. So why can't I cite Star Wars as a religious text, and claim to belive in The Force? Let's be completely honest with ourselves here - it's no more fanciful than most religions today. We just need a leader - anyone?
Suicidal Tendencies?
Before you panic - don't. I live a very contented life, and suicide is the very last thing on my mind. It took me a hell of an effort to overcome my natural survival instinct and leap off a 50m platform witha bungy cord attached to my legs, so it's not something I have in my 5 year plan. I don't even have a 5 year plan actually.
What is weird though, is that very occasionally I get the urge. On the motorway, I am all too aware that a quick flick of the wheel could drive me head on into a concrete pillar - and a tiny part of me for a tiny fraction of a second wants to 'give it a go'. The same part of me that wants to take a running dive off a cliff, pull open the emergency door on the plane, jump in front of a train or see what it's like to plummet to earth from the top of a multi storey car park.
It's nothing to do with topping yourself, just something about the rush of adrenaline you'd get as the train slams into your head, or as the ground approaches at a hundred miles an hour. A mate of mine gets it too - are we weird or is this fairly common?
What is weird though, is that very occasionally I get the urge. On the motorway, I am all too aware that a quick flick of the wheel could drive me head on into a concrete pillar - and a tiny part of me for a tiny fraction of a second wants to 'give it a go'. The same part of me that wants to take a running dive off a cliff, pull open the emergency door on the plane, jump in front of a train or see what it's like to plummet to earth from the top of a multi storey car park.
It's nothing to do with topping yourself, just something about the rush of adrenaline you'd get as the train slams into your head, or as the ground approaches at a hundred miles an hour. A mate of mine gets it too - are we weird or is this fairly common?
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Follow Your Dream
We hear it all the time - the winner of Pop X Idol Factor in their first interview, after being asked what advice they would give any aspiring performers: "... if you stick with it you'll make it, you can be whatever you want to be, you can go all the way if you believe in yourself...etc". What utter tripe.
If you believe in any of this, I'm sorry to dash your hopes, but it's actually some of the most irresponsible advice you'll ever hear, and it just leaves poor old Simon Cowell to pick up the pieces by telling these people how bad they really are.
Ever noticed how it's never the failures who say 'follow your dream'? Well of course not. They would say "Don't waste 10 years of your life on a futile quest for fame when you haven't got a hope in hell due to the fact that you have no talent at all."
I was chatting to Trev from the band the other day - not a real chat of course, we only communicate through highly amusing and abusive emails - about how it all turned out ok for us in the end. We, like thousands of other bands, honestly believed we had what it took to 'make it'. Maybe we did, but there's more to it than that - stuff like who you know, right place right time and all the other cliches.
We spent a good few years of our early twenties working part time jobs to give us time for the band. Rehearsals and a couple of gigs every week, and saving money to get CDs recorded and pressed. Our highlight was being played on Steve Wright's breakfast show on Radio 1 - but of course nothing happened from there, and we drifted into full time jobs and, fortunately, the real world.
I'm just glad we never took that staple advice "Follow your dream - if you believe in yourself, then you'll definitely make it". It's no coincidence that this advice is doled out by those who have actually made it, and not by the thousands of forty-something has-beens who have wasted a good part of their life still trying to 'make it'. Sad as it sounds, I'm glad we got jobs/careers, as we can still enjoy the whole music thing, but enjoy a whole other life too.
I still believe we are a great band, but it's too much of a gamble now - we all make a reasonable living, and even if you 'make it', it's no guarantee of fame or fortune. I was listening to Chesney Hawkes on the radio the other day. That guy was such a legend with just one song - wonder what he's doing now. The bass player from the Boomtown Rats is a plumber, I know that much.
If you believe in any of this, I'm sorry to dash your hopes, but it's actually some of the most irresponsible advice you'll ever hear, and it just leaves poor old Simon Cowell to pick up the pieces by telling these people how bad they really are.
Ever noticed how it's never the failures who say 'follow your dream'? Well of course not. They would say "Don't waste 10 years of your life on a futile quest for fame when you haven't got a hope in hell due to the fact that you have no talent at all."
I was chatting to Trev from the band the other day - not a real chat of course, we only communicate through highly amusing and abusive emails - about how it all turned out ok for us in the end. We, like thousands of other bands, honestly believed we had what it took to 'make it'. Maybe we did, but there's more to it than that - stuff like who you know, right place right time and all the other cliches.
We spent a good few years of our early twenties working part time jobs to give us time for the band. Rehearsals and a couple of gigs every week, and saving money to get CDs recorded and pressed. Our highlight was being played on Steve Wright's breakfast show on Radio 1 - but of course nothing happened from there, and we drifted into full time jobs and, fortunately, the real world.
I'm just glad we never took that staple advice "Follow your dream - if you believe in yourself, then you'll definitely make it". It's no coincidence that this advice is doled out by those who have actually made it, and not by the thousands of forty-something has-beens who have wasted a good part of their life still trying to 'make it'. Sad as it sounds, I'm glad we got jobs/careers, as we can still enjoy the whole music thing, but enjoy a whole other life too.
I still believe we are a great band, but it's too much of a gamble now - we all make a reasonable living, and even if you 'make it', it's no guarantee of fame or fortune. I was listening to Chesney Hawkes on the radio the other day. That guy was such a legend with just one song - wonder what he's doing now. The bass player from the Boomtown Rats is a plumber, I know that much.
Thursday, 2 August 2007
The Race
Not just the title of one of the greatest one hit wonders of all time by Yello, but also a game played by thousands of commuters daily. A game of which none of us ever speak.
Now I'm not saying that, as a commuter, you've automatically been in The Race, but the chances are you've witnessed it without realising.
The rules are simple. The first rule of The Race is that no-one must ever acknowledge that they are in The Race. It's all done with a quick nudge here and there, and absolutely no eye contact.
Preparation starts on the platform - as the train pulls in, you know which carriage and which door on that carriage to get on the train to make sure you're in the optimum position at the other end of your journey. Seasoned pros have an exact spot on the platform on which they stand.
When the train pulls in at the other end is when the fun starts. Without running, and without letting on that you are in The Race, you must be the first one up the stairs/first one up the escalator/first one through the ticket barrier - you set your own rules.
Most are simply spectators, but for thousands of us, that small victory as you steam through the barriers, muttering "eat my dust bitch" under your breath is a great way to start/finish to your day.
Next time you get off a train - just watch. It's going all around us.
by Norbert Panhandle - Gold medalist in the 18.34 Baker Street to Croxley Challenge Cup.
Now I'm not saying that, as a commuter, you've automatically been in The Race, but the chances are you've witnessed it without realising.
The rules are simple. The first rule of The Race is that no-one must ever acknowledge that they are in The Race. It's all done with a quick nudge here and there, and absolutely no eye contact.
Preparation starts on the platform - as the train pulls in, you know which carriage and which door on that carriage to get on the train to make sure you're in the optimum position at the other end of your journey. Seasoned pros have an exact spot on the platform on which they stand.
When the train pulls in at the other end is when the fun starts. Without running, and without letting on that you are in The Race, you must be the first one up the stairs/first one up the escalator/first one through the ticket barrier - you set your own rules.
Most are simply spectators, but for thousands of us, that small victory as you steam through the barriers, muttering "eat my dust bitch" under your breath is a great way to start/finish to your day.
Next time you get off a train - just watch. It's going all around us.
by Norbert Panhandle - Gold medalist in the 18.34 Baker Street to Croxley Challenge Cup.
More Caffeine
I've had a pop at tea drinkers, but don't think you coffee addicts get off scot free.
Working in London, you get used to a lot of things which our more suburban/country cousins would think are just plain stupid. One in particular is the whole 'carry my coffee to work' thing.
It can start before they even get on the train - they stand on the platform with their plastic-lidded cardboard cup of tall-skinny-caramel-decaff-mocha-choca-latte, cradling it like a precious jewel. The same cup can last them the whole commute - train, tube and walk to the office - all the while holding it up like an Olympic torch, trying to avoid spills and getting in everyone's way, but all the time making sure to take a sip every 5 mins or so. Finally they arrive breathless in the office plonking it down on their desk. Surely by this time it is stone cold?
What I want to know is whether this is caffeine addiction or the the first signs of OCD? I can't think of any logical reason why you wouldn't just wait till you get into the office and have your cuppa there? Not only do you save yourself £3.50, but you then have two hands free to hold on to the handrail on the tube and read your Harry Potter book.
Working in London, you get used to a lot of things which our more suburban/country cousins would think are just plain stupid. One in particular is the whole 'carry my coffee to work' thing.
It can start before they even get on the train - they stand on the platform with their plastic-lidded cardboard cup of tall-skinny-caramel-decaff-mocha-choca-latte, cradling it like a precious jewel. The same cup can last them the whole commute - train, tube and walk to the office - all the while holding it up like an Olympic torch, trying to avoid spills and getting in everyone's way, but all the time making sure to take a sip every 5 mins or so. Finally they arrive breathless in the office plonking it down on their desk. Surely by this time it is stone cold?
What I want to know is whether this is caffeine addiction or the the first signs of OCD? I can't think of any logical reason why you wouldn't just wait till you get into the office and have your cuppa there? Not only do you save yourself £3.50, but you then have two hands free to hold on to the handrail on the tube and read your Harry Potter book.
Blowin in the wind
Leaf blowers -what is the point? Discuss.
I only ever see people using leaf blowers to blow leaves somewhere else - either to a place 10 yards in front of them, or just off to the side of the 'bit' they're doing. Surely this is just moving leaves around, and a bloody noisy way of doing it to boot? The next time the wind picks up - even just a whisper - and all the leaves you have moved come straight back.
Either sweep them up or blow them into a pile, and then sweep them up. I think we're just inventing machines for the sake of it.
I only ever see people using leaf blowers to blow leaves somewhere else - either to a place 10 yards in front of them, or just off to the side of the 'bit' they're doing. Surely this is just moving leaves around, and a bloody noisy way of doing it to boot? The next time the wind picks up - even just a whisper - and all the leaves you have moved come straight back.
Either sweep them up or blow them into a pile, and then sweep them up. I think we're just inventing machines for the sake of it.
Thursday, 14 June 2007
Rock n Roll
I just heard an ad on the radio for the latest Bon Jovi album, and I'm afraid I despair at what I heard. Now don't don't get me wrong, I'm not a closet Bon Jovi fan, but I can at least acknowledge that they were a 'rock' band in the true sense of the word. In the good old days rock bands were all about massive stadium gigs, drumstick twirling, a bit of leather, and maybe a few drugs thrown in here and there (ok, in the case of Bon Jovi maybe nothing much stronger than a bit of Night Nurse, but you get the picture).
Now I know that rock bands have changed in many ways, but my biggest issue is that the rock bands of old all seem to go one way. Soft.
One of my all time favourite bands is Queen, who started off in the 70s as a pretty far out rock band (on the verge of glam), and pushing the boundaries of taste and decency. Not that you'd know it from listening to their post 1986 releases - all soft pop, and many,many ballads.
The worst offender I know of has to be Cliff Richard. I jest not. I have an album called Rock n Roll Juvenile from the 60s, where he absolutely kicks arse. A bit of Jesus thrown in there, and a couple of slower tracks, but generally a great album nonetheless. Look at him now, and he's no better than Val Doonican on valium.
And then there's the issue of age. The Who singing about My Generation at the age of 60 odd is an irony missed on many people. Particularly those not even born when that track was released. And then the old favourites - the Rolling Stones. All the journos say they are better then ever - well in that case the sixties must have been more drug-fuelled than I originally thought. They are ok, but I can't help thinking we'd be better off if Jagger had been shot along with Lennon, just so the other Stones could get on with their lives with a bit of dignity.
Sad rocker has-beens - take a leaf out of Alex James's book. Retire young, buy a farm and make cheese. Everyone will remember the good old days instead of the tired old men.
Now I know that rock bands have changed in many ways, but my biggest issue is that the rock bands of old all seem to go one way. Soft.
One of my all time favourite bands is Queen, who started off in the 70s as a pretty far out rock band (on the verge of glam), and pushing the boundaries of taste and decency. Not that you'd know it from listening to their post 1986 releases - all soft pop, and many,many ballads.
The worst offender I know of has to be Cliff Richard. I jest not. I have an album called Rock n Roll Juvenile from the 60s, where he absolutely kicks arse. A bit of Jesus thrown in there, and a couple of slower tracks, but generally a great album nonetheless. Look at him now, and he's no better than Val Doonican on valium.
And then there's the issue of age. The Who singing about My Generation at the age of 60 odd is an irony missed on many people. Particularly those not even born when that track was released. And then the old favourites - the Rolling Stones. All the journos say they are better then ever - well in that case the sixties must have been more drug-fuelled than I originally thought. They are ok, but I can't help thinking we'd be better off if Jagger had been shot along with Lennon, just so the other Stones could get on with their lives with a bit of dignity.
Sad rocker has-beens - take a leaf out of Alex James's book. Retire young, buy a farm and make cheese. Everyone will remember the good old days instead of the tired old men.
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
TV nonsense
What happened to those little white dots in the top right hand corner of your TV screen just before a commercial break. I don't think I've seen them for years, or do they just appear on terrestrial TV now?
Something that made me chuckle the other day is watching a TV ad for a Sony Bravia TV - showing the superior colour and picture clarity I'll get if I nip down to Dixons and spend a thousand quid. Of course, the picture clarity and colour I was seeing was only as good as my current TV (duh), but I guess some people must fall for it.
They must be the same people who fall for the somewhat vague claim that the latest skin cream will "help reduce the appearance of fine lines". In the same way that politicians 'help' 'reduce' the 'appearance' of being utterly useless. You have to ask yourself why ads don't say "This cream will make you younger - fact." Because they can't, that's why.
Something that made me chuckle the other day is watching a TV ad for a Sony Bravia TV - showing the superior colour and picture clarity I'll get if I nip down to Dixons and spend a thousand quid. Of course, the picture clarity and colour I was seeing was only as good as my current TV (duh), but I guess some people must fall for it.
They must be the same people who fall for the somewhat vague claim that the latest skin cream will "help reduce the appearance of fine lines". In the same way that politicians 'help' 'reduce' the 'appearance' of being utterly useless. You have to ask yourself why ads don't say "This cream will make you younger - fact." Because they can't, that's why.
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
Only The Good Die Young
You 've seen the articles on the news or in the local paper. A tragic accident involving a much loved friend, the sudden death of a work colleague who was hard working and widely respected by his peers, the demise of a local man who did loads of work for charity.
It seems that everyone who dies was ultimately a high achiever or a generally nice person for one reason or another. Loved by friends and family, a good student, captain of the football team, adopted an orphan, built a hospital, swam the channel, saved Lois Lane from an earthquake - you get the picture.
Once, just once, I'd like to see an article in the Watford Observer about some guy popping his clogs and no-one giving a toss. 'John Smith died today in a bizarre wallpapering accident at his home in West Watford. An ambulance crew tried to revive him, but the sheer volume of wallpaper paste clogging his airway proved too repulsive. "In any case,"one paramedic said, "I didn't make that much of an effort as he was well known for being a cantankerous bastard who everyone despised, so I'm glad to see the back of him".
Mr Smith's wife added that he "....never did a day's work in his whole life, couldn't give a monkeys about anyone but himself, and soiled himself regularly. I hope he rots in hell."
Neighbours refused to comment. Except one, who shouted obscenities at his corpse from a first floor window.'
But it never happens like that does it? Do we have that much respect for the dead that we are incapable of saying anything bad about them, despite being complete bastards all their lives, or do bad people never die?
The weird thing is, despite being a complete cynic, I have personally never known anyone to die who I didn't actually like or who hadn't achieved something remarkable with their life, and I certainly don't know anyone I would wish death upon. Either I'm seeing that little bit of good in everyone, or I'm reading the wrong papers.
It seems that everyone who dies was ultimately a high achiever or a generally nice person for one reason or another. Loved by friends and family, a good student, captain of the football team, adopted an orphan, built a hospital, swam the channel, saved Lois Lane from an earthquake - you get the picture.
Once, just once, I'd like to see an article in the Watford Observer about some guy popping his clogs and no-one giving a toss. 'John Smith died today in a bizarre wallpapering accident at his home in West Watford. An ambulance crew tried to revive him, but the sheer volume of wallpaper paste clogging his airway proved too repulsive. "In any case,"one paramedic said, "I didn't make that much of an effort as he was well known for being a cantankerous bastard who everyone despised, so I'm glad to see the back of him".
Mr Smith's wife added that he "....never did a day's work in his whole life, couldn't give a monkeys about anyone but himself, and soiled himself regularly. I hope he rots in hell."
Neighbours refused to comment. Except one, who shouted obscenities at his corpse from a first floor window.'
But it never happens like that does it? Do we have that much respect for the dead that we are incapable of saying anything bad about them, despite being complete bastards all their lives, or do bad people never die?
The weird thing is, despite being a complete cynic, I have personally never known anyone to die who I didn't actually like or who hadn't achieved something remarkable with their life, and I certainly don't know anyone I would wish death upon. Either I'm seeing that little bit of good in everyone, or I'm reading the wrong papers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
