i don't know what to title this

my first job out of uni was working for an internet company that ended up being so bad it was king of the watched on watchdog. (for those non uk people, watchdog is a show about things so bad british people actually complain about it. they write to anne robinson who then tells all the other british people what they knew but were too afraid to complain about themselves).

the head of this company was a phenomenal imbecile. however, it is hard to hold genetic defects against someone, even if it pervades the very essence of their being. his greatest flaw, out of his many flaws, was the small fact that he was, and probably still is, a herculian cunt. i don't use that word lightly. Hercules was, to the greeks at least, a deity. or semi deity? im not too familiar with the greek mythologies. in any event, he was the strongest of all the made up people, and stronger than any man could ever be.

but back then, i was young. i knew that people could be cunts, but was always a bit distanced from it. they're not in my generation. my generation could grow out of it, i thought. and if not, surely they won't get anywhere in life.

WRONG

i used to play football on sunday mornings. the frequently cold, regularly wet, always half asleep and often semi drunk excursions were worth it. i always tried to play on a team devoid of pointless human beings, and for the most part i selected teams well. perhaps only 2 people who should be forcibly removed from the planet did i ever have to share a dressing room with. thats not to say i wasnt surrounded by them on the pitch. some of the opposition players managed to outperform the great many people i have met to form unbelievable, yet true, tales of this blog.

however, there are some that slip through the net. and one of the characters i played with on my team was a shining example of everything one should not want to be in life. his superhero power was to whine. perpetually moaning about everything and everyone in football (and probably in real life - i only once had the misfortune of having to see him elsewhere) could be acceptable if you were any good at football (or indeed anything in life). his football special skill was 'abuse the ref'.
he grew up as the child of a deputy head teacher of the school he went to and abused this power by being a cunt. analogous to cartmen's uncontrollable plight in le petit tourette, he forgot how to not be one.

these are the human beings which i don't think should be able to get anywhere in life. so when you see one being abused for being a mongoloid on a relatively popular podcast i am torn with conflicting emotions. there is a nice feeling, that everyone else instantly can see what a terrific specimen of bile he his. however, there is shock, horror and disbelief that he could get there in the first place. i know life can be unfair, but quite this unfair?

i need to somehow deal with this. i'm going to try to apply the techniques learnt unto me by jared tendler in 'the mental game of poker' to the real world and my current predicament. wish me luck.

downtime

frustratingly, my internet keeps going down. like a

catchy title here

i have now twice in the past three weeks injured my back. trying to put on or take off socks. i missed out on playing football with the injury defined as old age. this most recent injury also included an ankle strain i seem to have picked up at the gym the day before the back injury. even in the snow the swelling seems to have remained. if i lived 100 years ago i would probably be put down. and if not, i'd be close to avg life expectancy. the best almost cliché i can muster for this is a good innings for a bowler. so no weight update this week i am afraid.

i recently started reading another book of feynman lectures. i think if i was asked which 6 people i would invite to dinner given a choice of anyone at all, feynman would be top of the list. closely followed by larry david and karl pilkington. i am yet to decide on the other three. joe montana is likely to take up one of those three spots. as is natalie portman. as for the final chair? probably yakshi. although i'd make him sign a non compete clause for portman.

here's the bear up a tree

next week - Russia's marble arch

what is that?

when you see question time on tv (if you're unlucky) or some other debate, people who asks questions are told off if they make a statement instead of asking a question. Oprah has got around this minor inconvenience by adding the words, "what is that?" to the end of a statement.

if anyone cares about the lance armstrong cheating, but not enough to see a tv celebrity 'interview' him, here is a summary:

"you cheated! you're a dick! what is that?"
"I'm a dick. i cheated"

as for me, i'm still doping with creatine and am now up to 79kg! 1kg away from target although i still appear to be the same size. how very odd.


turns out writing is much more difficult than the thought of writing. even with a great idea you have to do all the story arcs, the dialogues, the twists (and the turns) as well as all the bits in between. it seems a good idea is no where near enough. nonetheless, i shall plough on. i have written only a couple of thousand words so far. i've stopped to write a basic plan of where things may go and signposts along the way, and then i can get back to writing 500 words per day.

here's a picture. next week - bear up a tree.

cinematics

i'm giving up on the cinema. not because it's exorbitantly expensive. nor because i'm so old that i don't like modern day films. but because i'm so old that i don't like modern day human beings and no longer care about hiding this fact.

There's not much worse than a collection of people. for example, i heard a great definition:
democracy (n), where any two idiots can outvote a genius.

that's a bit of a tangent though. i dislike the cinema because the odious cretins that we are forced to share a confined space with seem oblivious to other human beings. they have no qualms about talking, playing with their superbright phones and worst of all, eating like an animal which has been starving all winter, and finally gets that first food of spring, devouring it in double quick time afraid that a lion will chase them away.