Ok so I decided to start a blog. And so it begins before I started with Where's The Beef?, a rhetorical question signifying my quest for substance.
At the time of writing I'm 27 and sitting in a cupboard with a bottle of red wine. 27 years have cumulated to this point. I think you get the point. I need to find the beef.
As the modern electro-mechanical juggernaut continues on it's journey, even parts of it fall off to the junkyard like all of those 80s robots. We have a new kind of death to mourn in this age – our electronic devices. I’m not giving much away here, but everyone knows that these are put together in a just-in-time fashion, with competition and Christmas timing in mind, resulting in less than perfect and under tested products.
This is the heart-breaking truth kids. Even Santa is running a 2-bit knock-a-job operation. I was particularly saddened by the death of my iPod, Charles. This was my fourth iPod. Cause of death: drowning. Before it had been had falls, or just pure worn out.
I decided to give Charles a proper send off and organised this personal funeral in my room. Coffin cut out of black card and a green picturesque t-shirt with blue carpet forming the perfect scene he would have wanted. As David Bowie sang Ashes to Ashes. Everyone should name their iPods. My new one is Johnny 5, being my fifth (and bringing back the forgotten 80s robots!).
In memory of Charles here is his favourite song.
We are growing a sunflower at work in memory of the late pioneer of computer science Alan Turing, a man instrumental in cracking the Enigma code, and cruelly treated by the British government thereafter. A free thinker and revolutionary, and that a gay man could also be a good man threatened the establishment because they were lesser men. This is part of an experiment to test his theory on the Fibonacci sequence, which he never got to complete. If you can’t be bothered with the maths just grow a fucking sunflower. They’re beautiful. The Guardian - Alan Turing Sunflower
Where the bloody hell was the Beef? Consistency is the refuge of the unimaginative. I'd been on a long train journey and came off the rails. The Big Man collared me aff. Luckily I jumped a passing wagon only to promptly fall off. So now I'm just kicking stones up a dusty road. If you don't know where you're going any direction will do - but I'm a clever fellow. Roads go somewhere.
Take the yellow brick road. I'd like to meet the scarecrow and torch the fucker. He was a tout. Farewell yellow brick road and welcome back to my journey. To make it home you need to click your red heels while repeating "There's no place like home." So true.
However, I use real technology. With a little help from the Buckfast GPS I was back in the beautiful city of Edinburgh only to be horrified by what I saw.
What the hell happened here? Is this the fall of Rome? No. Some detached city council took a big fucking knife, and left a rotting bleeding torso in the bushes.
Now we commute on buses via the dismembered limbs of our city on an inflated fare and painfully slow service. Now I know the difference between fare and fair. Grant Stott has done well out of it as he's still the face of Ridacard. For those who don't know, Grant Stott is the big faced brother of John Lesley. Similarly to the city, the advertisement no longer shows his body. It must have cost extra.
It is also more confusing to use these buses of rage. So I need to be in the yellow zone, stop YG then race across town in GTA fashion to the next stop, red faced zone stop FOAD. I can only move in eight directions as this is the first GTA. I'm nearly out of time. Fuck I've missed it. Fuck this I'm taking this bus. Get out. Now I'm driving in the rush hour...
Try praying. Does this mean that we have given up hope? You would get more from tossing yourself off. Try taking affirmative action. Don't give up hope. A message of inspiration from your friend Keith. Edit: I understand that praying is thinking. Some of the nicest humans I have met are religious and
it's a shame that it is ruined by everyone, believer and non-believer. Ladybird and let bee. "I don't believe in anything". But when I die I will go to Infinity Land.
I am a time travelling salesman of clocks, so in ancient times I sell mostly mounds of earth equally spaced, a bit later they all go crazy for the standing stones, then around the enlightenment the infernal mechanical cogs, tuned to let a distinguished gentleman know when to go hunting, and just now, well there was a transition from crystal based time keepers, in most watches, to the new laser clock that relies on cobalt.
In the 1871 UK census people were asked to identify whether they were an imbecile, idiot or lunatic. Nowadays the government enquires on our religion. I think there may have been a clever substitution. However there will be no rant about religion here, for it this question on the recent UK census that had me thinking:
Surely this is a question that is inquiring on ones self esteem more than anything.
It confused me so I ticked 'Well'.
Leftism. I discovered about a year ago that my ears are on the wrong way round. My right earphone kept falling out causing me to lose the benefit of stereo. I had become a Cyclops of the music world.
Where did Cyclops' go? When I was a kid they were everywhere and I had to concern myself with such things as lava and piranhas.
Whatever the ear equivalent to a Cyclops is, my earphones didn't fit. The natural thing to do in this situation is to check if the right earphone fits in the left ear. It did. What happened next was nothing short of astounding. The right earphone was a perfect fit for my left ear. I felt like Cinderella.
These prescription earphones help. One of the buds is slightly larger than the other. Also a simple colour coding distinguishes the left from the right. I'd advise to get down to the doctors and get checked out.
