Attempted loss of liberty (And free shit)…

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This article has been prompted by the BBC News Story EBook piracy sites to be blocked by UK net providers.

The BBC, again, have been very helpful in pointing out sources of media which we don’t have to pay for. Prior to this article I was blissfully unaware of the sources of free shit detailed in their piece. The UK government and the grand old houses of media publishing are determined that we all keep to the capitalist ideals of giving huge amounts of money to the middle man, and as such are vigorously engaged and entrenched in the war against free shit; what these monkeys don’t realise is that getting past their blocks is almost child’s play.

So, I’d like to thank the BBC for the opportunity to plunder a huge store of media (Not that I would, that would be illegal, or course).

It’s a useful resource, I dare to say that I’d find works on those sites listed which I would otherwise struggle to find via more legitimate means… That’s the problem with the middle men who like to control what we all consume, they control

It seems all governments, all civil servants (Read: Civil Masters), which we in the West have elected (Supposedly), are doing their best to control society and preserve the status-quo of the rich and powerful. Until now, I would have been hard-pushed to accept I’d issue such a statement, after all, at this stage of my life, I’m hardly poor.

11007579_10152819596104811_637718903_nThe recent developments in governmental controls increasingly prompt me to rebel, to become a Civil Disobedient – that term in particular strikes an odd cord within me, it implies that I have bowed my head to these Civil Masters, and signed an unwritten contract to abide by their laws. Speed Cameras, Car Tax, Tax on the Tax, Internet Filters, Tax on the money we’ve already paid Tax on… Fines for taking your own kids out of school at a time of your choosing… Society is becoming a death-tap maze of our own making. I can’t remember where I heard it, a statement of our existence today, something along the lines that we exchange time for tokens to continue exchanging time for… Quite accurate. Makes me want to break free and get more free shit 🙂

So as a Pastafarian (Not that I need an excuse), I’m going to raise my jolly-roger, and keep it flying where ever and when ever possible… Arrrrrrgh!

Welcome to the moment in between the moment, the one where you experience some of the flash thoughts above, but don’t explore them…

So, I got ordained. #FSM

Yes. Me, one of the most ardent and militant atheists you’ll ever likely meet (Or not).

I’ve found the perfect religion… The Church of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. Sacred things: Fridays, a stripper factory, and a beer volcano; and you don’t even have to believe. So… I thought “Fuck them all”, those child molesting abusing scum-vermin (Commonly known as the clergy) with their special rights and considerations in society (Blind as it is)… I have the same rights… LMAO. How’s that for sardonic?!

However the difference is I’m doing it to be the exact opposite reasons and rational, and to make a point how worthless the whole thing is. I’m an ordained minister… yet… get this – I’m choosing to be a part of an organisation which is opposite to religion as we know it – no deaths or hurt or harm in the name of this one, no children abused or raped, none of that shit! Just a good time with a stripper factory and a beer volcano!

So, again my point is proved – I’m choosing not to belong to an abusive organisation soaked in the blood of the ages – if you could reason with the religious, there wouldn’t be any!

FSM Ordination - Secret Spabbit

(Yes, I’ve edited this one, you think I’m going to give you nutters my real ID!?) lol.

The Birthday Week.

It’s here. The Birthday week. The pressure is on. All over the world, the majority of people will be planning that day, you know the one, I’m not even going to say it. It’s my Birthday. Not to claim a deity complex, it just happens to be the same day. Apart from the reasons going back through 36 years of religious abuse, it’s a bad time. It’s a time for people to build their expectations, get stressed about them, and later, explode.

I’m doing my best, performing at peak efficiency in the mental damage control dept, controlling what I say and do this time of year to match with the people around me, trying to limit the internal growls. I know my Wife appreciates my efforts, and I think, hope, I’m doing well.

Thinking of moving the Birthday to another date in the year, to once less stressed. I did suggest Feb 30th, however I don’t think the idea was appreciated to the fullest extent. Yes, that was humour.

Mind on fire.

When the world fades, when the music inside seems outside, when the point of focus is there and nowhere else. Light, dark, deathly quiet and immensely loud, anything can happen, everything is happening, detail is the landscape, time is the traveller, seconds the pulse.

I miss the concentration when it’s gone, and so hard, so hard to get back there to the place which isn’t.

I’ve been told, and realised, from time to time, that I live a lot in my head. Not nearly enough sometimes. I envy myself each time I’m forced out into the violence which is most of existence. Reality is heavy, things take time and are fixed points, not fluid.

I’m finding words difficult in describing the thought universe, they’re too limited, I could write thousands of words, they would mean nothing compared to a single moment of absolute focus. I guess some people take drugs to achieve the moment, perhaps stretch it out too far. Can’t be doing drugs for that, stretch the moments and everything else will cease. Mind on fire.

The religious mind is a diseased mind.

A hallmark of the average religious individual is that when they’re confronted with a logical question about an action or opinion, they simply cannot resolve their action, always falling back on the reason “because”.

Today one of my friends (Yes, even I have friends with this disease), was very angry that someone dared to carry on working during the 2 minute silence they’d organised and taken part in to mark the end of the first world war. When I asked this person why they were so offended and angry at the other person, their response was simply “It’s disrespectful”, I asked them why – constantly their response was “because it’s disrespectful”… I found it hard to accept that my friend, a person who I actually like (Despite their disease), couldn’t express and reason why…

I happen to agree with them regarding the silence, but not for the same reason. You can’t show respect to the dead, they’re dead – they simply don’t care; however society as a whole likes to give the impression that they care – the silence for them is exactly that – for them, for them to think of perhaps their distant relative who’s life may have been altered or ended by the war. Further I asked this person if that in by trying to enforce the silence on someone who didn’t want to take part, if they were not disrespecting that person’s opinion and free will… Typically the person’s diseased mind regurgitated the same old excuse that “It’s disrespectful”… They weren’t even willing to engage in a dialogue which questioned them, or forced them to think for themselves for once. I am very sad for my friend, I know from experience that when the mind is that gone, there is no hope for them.

A lot of people who read this will no doubt agree with my friend and nothing, no amount of questioning will make them dig down and admit why they take part in a silence, or wear the poppy. Don’t take this the wrong way – I have no beef with people who do take part or wear the poppy – they have their own reasons which may or may not be valid, the important thing is the ability to question why and have a valid answer, not “because”. If you don’t know why you’re doing something, there is little point in being, you may as well be an automatic machine just following a set path with no meaning.

I questioned my friend, asking if “The silence” could be regarded as an individual decision, an individual choice, so that perhaps they could respect those, alive, next to them, who didn’t want to take part – her response was “no, it’s disrespectful”… If I didn’t laugh at them I would cry – it is as if they’d been programmed from an early age to spit out this answer (Well, I suppose they had!). The point that this article makes is that the religious mind cannot reason why properly, when faced with a moral choice or when questioned on their own choices, they cannot deviate from their set programming and go into what I like to call AES, Angry Error State, when confronted.

I admit, sometimes, I bate them into this state for amusement, but on reflection I am sad for them, sad their minds are captive to this disease. It’s my hope that in the future, the entire species can be free of the mental shackles imposed by a history of religious abuse.

A new branch of Math

Query: Branch? Is Math a tree? Can I be a tree? Do I want to be a tree, and if so, what tree? Cherry? Would I have cherry-math-branches? What colour cherries would be on the branch? Is three a colour? (Welcome to my head) 😉

Anyhow, this branch of math is a specialist field, one taking into account a couple of variables and is capable of predicting the requirement and the type of takeout required. Yes, this branch of math centres on takeout.

The variables are: Current Mood, Desire and Get-up-and-go. The sum I employed yesterday was 1+can’t_be_arsed=kebab. Today’s equation was remarkably similar, in fact it was the same, only more oriental as we ended up with a Chinese, and a Chinese breakfast for me, for the morning. 🙂

I’ve been doubly lazy in the cooking dept this week – on the weekend I got the ingredients for my noodles, which I’ve been practising making, pic below.


The point is, I need to cook more, but the math has taken over for the last few days. Meh, the weekend is close.

An edge of undue stress

Imagine the edge a great blade, bight silver for the most part, but dull and chipped in parts, a blade of unimaginable size, sweeping through the space, motion provided by some unknown swing, bisecting even the air in one great unending arc.

Undue stress. I have undue stress. Don’t know why. If I knew why, then it wouldn’t be undue. Is there anything such as due stress? Hummm.

The weekend was ace, no problems with the weekend. Shopping in the morning on Saturday, where I made My Wife happy with a small present of a Coffee Machine, and I say with a smile, it is a small price to pay for such 🙂 The remainder of the weekend was quite OK, kids dropped round with Peanut, who was a lot better behaved than the other week, we ate, a couple of take-outs – Kebab and Chinese, watched the X-Factor (Not a bad round up of talent!), a fine time.

The Sky box is fucked, despite a firmware download and reformat – Sky are sending out an engineer on the 5th October – £30 to fix it, even if we require a new box (Which I think we will).

Work was OK today, if slightly tiresome. Got most of the charity-shit preparation out of the way, all technical testing done and all the logins, both PC and telephony have been generated; just to survey the work-floor where it’s happening and prepare to disable the call-recordings on the night. Easy.

Tomorrow, work brings a visit to one of the other offices to sort some problems, Wednesday a visit to yet another office to test some systems in the afternoon. Thu is nothing, as yet. Fri is a training course I have to run for engineers in Africa.

The “Fucking Parents” have mostly moved back, only a little more of their crap to be delivered, plus exchanging a French shit-mobile for a real car, and they’ll be fully back. They’ve got the message that neither myself or My Wife are builders, and have made some kind of agreement to have an actual builder in to do builderish stuff, not badger it into submission – this is a good thing.

So, back to the subject of stress? Why do I feel unduly stressed? Why am I slurping from the alcohol nipple tonight (All be it low level consumption)? Meh. Time will tell.

Fucking Parents, looming impact.

So, the parents are a week out from landing back in Wales for good. Most of the construction style work they’ve been doing on the house is complete, and the international removal service is moving the rest of their shit within the week (Although, looking at what’s over already, I can’t imagine what!).

Dad is going to almost kill himself again with multiple runs in that fucking death-trap of a froggie van of his, mind this should be the last couple of runs for him. A part of me wonders if the lack of constant travel will be the end of him, or if he’ll just relax into a new life where he doesn’t do 40k miles a year. I know one thing for sure – when I get anywhere near his age, if I make it (30 years from now), I’m going to make damn sure I’m not under the same pressures and in the same situations as he is now. It was always said that to have a successful future, you must learn from the past, it’s taken this long to sink in!

Life will have to be carefully balanced between My Wife, who always comes first, the kids and now the parents. Going to be busy for sure. I think I may have to take the fall and go visit them on my own more often, or I think My Wife might have a minor melt-down; mind it wouldn’t be a bad thing (Visiting them, that is!), as My Wife would get a little more time on her own – on the other hand I could have that wrong, time will tell – I can only try to do the right thing…

Watch this space for news about the Fucking Parents Impact!

Another reason…

Been thinking, and remembering (sic) to post this…

Another reason for this blog to exist: I forget almost everything – I mean it. I have difficulty remembering what I’m doing moment to moment on a frequent basis. My desk at work is usually covered by bits of paper I’ve scribbled on, it looks like big-bird (For those who can remember that far back) made out of post-it-notes – without them I would probably just sit there all day trying to remember what I was doing, and drool.

Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with my memory, but I am getting on a bit now – I’m 40!

Don’t know.

We’ll have to wait and see if I forget more shit, more frequently, depending on if I can remember the things I’ve just forgotten to remember. Erk. That’s where this blog comes in, or at least another function of the existing blog. It’s a memory bank. It’s my memory bank, some of which I’ve chosen to be accessible by almost everyone.

If you read the blog and don’t have a login (Which you probably won’t, unless you’re the one person who knows me most in life or death, then you do), then you’ll have figured out there are gaps, and details are missing. For my own reasons, some posts are hidden from the great, unwashed masses. So there. Another reason, set on verbose.