Join The Space Race

It is my opinion that we are never going to save the planet. At 20 billion to 30 billion years, the Sun will expand into a red ball and die, overwhelming Earth with the heat. Oceans will boil and evaporate, and other planets near the sun also will burn, leaving nothing but orbiting chunks of barren rock. Why are we worrying about global warming, the destruction of the rainforest or the depletion of the planet's limited resources?

Countries that have signed the Kyoto Protocol have agreed to an average reduction of greenhouse gases of 5.2% from 1990 levels by the year 2012. I have other plans. If we all stop for a minute, dissolve society as it is, and agree to build hundreds of thousands of spaceships I believe that we will sustain the human race on Earth for about another ten generations.

There will be jobs for everyone, from mining raw materials to manufacture and design. That is only to mention the development of the crafts themselves and subsidiary jobs would be created in ensuring the craft workforce wellbeing such as housing, agriculture, mining ecstacy and drilling the buckfast fields. I have envisaged a fully employed planet with a happy workforce who will also be free to have casual sex with each other.

Once the spaceships are complete the Earth will have been stripped of all of the necessary elements for human survival except that we will have stock piled fuel sources of all forms. It will be a little like Battle Royale. Some ships will have kerosene, others wood, and some sunflower oil. Every human would have a cabin on the spaceship, two by two, and all crafts would take off in different directions at various locations around the world. You see what I'm getting at here? Let's escape this exploding fucking fireball. Chances are that one of the spaceships will happen across a habitible planet where we can work out the new rules of physics, apply them to great benefit of everyone, and then pass control to the New Earth banks.

Fanta$tic Mr. Fox

Fantastic Mr. Fox. On the 22 bus I passed a poster for the upcoming screen version of the classic Roald Dahl book. Roald, is that a name? Anyway, what I saw was so off the point I must comment. Mr. Fox is a story about poverty and the need to forage for whatever he can to feed his family. He was not a swave ganster. In the movie he demands his gang to wear hoods on their missions. They have taken the title 'fantastic' and completely misinterpred it. To me, and I may be wrong, the story is about greed and poverty. Revelent? Yes.

Don't get me wrong, I love the book. The upcoming movie disgusts me though. Fantastic Mr. Fox was scavaging for what food he could using his cunning to outwit a buch of oafs. Anto has enlightened me that in the book we are also made to feel sorry for the bad guys. They have been personalised and their existance itself is sad. The movie does not convey this or the plight of those living in poverty. The film makers have also signed a deal with McDonalds for promotions. Surely KFC if anything?

Edinburgh Tramps Works

Part time traffic lights. What do they do the rest of the time? Do traffic lights have other commitments? Maybe a gap year traffic light working to get a big job in the city. Temporary traffic lights too. "I'm only temping as a traffic light, looking for something a little more permanent." Temporary traffic lights do look amateur to be fair. This particular one has character though.

Plenty of temporary positions around Edinburgh at the moment. The market is pretty saturated and most will be redundant in a few years. Sadly, there will always be some other detached city council ready to cut the arterial artery of another fine city.

"MONORAIL! MONORAIL! MONORAIL!".

Dirty Money

When I was a kid I accidently swollowed a pound and as nature goes I shat it out. I was 8 so my granny made me shit in a bucket and she fished it out. It was meant to be a momento but I spent it on sweets. What I'm trying to say is somewhere out there is a pound that has been right through me.

Lonely, Crying Only

I turn the key and with a creek the door slowly opens. The flat that once welcomed after work is an eerie wasteland of emotions. Something is missing, but I haven't been burgled. Today I didn't need a daily ancedote, such as the photcopier jam. The post skidded across the floor as I stepped in. Someone usually lifts the post and places it thoughtfully on my bed, or even more knowingly, on my part of the sofa.

Nachy, my flatmate, is away home for a week. Yes, I can bring a minger back and shag all day and night, walk around naked and rent his room out to buy drugs but I do most of those things when he's here. I just need someone around, and then it hit me... I will make my flatmate. Time is short so I can't make it talk or do anything. That is not important, but as long as I sit on my sofa and can see something resembling Nachy in the corner of my eye I might make it through the week without herion.

I begin to move him about when I leave the room. Before I know it this is part of my life and I love him. Then I hear a key turn in the door and Nachy is soon undressing his work trousers from my creation and I go to bed confused and in tears again. The photcopier jam was delicious by the way.

Signs

Signs. They're everywhere, boring and usually tell me not to do something. How refreshing it is to see this one. I needed to read it again and then take a photograph even at the risk of looking weird. I'm told (by Anto) that I'll soon pass this stage of fear. For example, you're walking down the street and realise you're going the wrong way. Do you:

a) enter a shop, buy something then head back the right way

b) keep going and turn back when no one is looking

c) pretend you've forgot something and turn back

That is the chronological order of not giving a fuck but if you have reached the Anto stage you just shout 'FUCK' and turn straight around. You do not give a fuck.

Anyway I digress, back to the sign...

This is like something from a horror movie and I like it. What happens after sunset? Maybe if you remain on the street you turn into a lamppost. It is possible that everything on this street used to be a child playing after sunset. I wonder if life as a garden gate is better than this...

Watercolour Challenge

Watercolour Challenge - now that was a TV show. Three amateur artists would have four hours to paint the same scene. The beauty was its amateurishness and that the celebrity judge always found something good to say about even the bloodiest massacre of canvas. TV was nice and we applauded effort. This is added to my list of programs that I would like to appear on. I imagine being presented with a picturesque view of mountains sweeping to the sea and producing something resembling Hades, the gateway to Hell in reds and purples. Over to you celebrity judge…