Tacky Electronic Nonsense.

2 months, 2 weeks....

2010-12-15T18:14:00.000Z

Long ago
I couldn’t think
About anything aside from the fucking stink
Of dickheads, pricks and worthless cunts
So I’ll apologise if I’ve been too blunt
But, I think I’ve changed
My minds been altered
Brains… rearranged
And as I sit and contemplate
I realise that I may be…
too late..
As…
Could it be…
That my misanthropy
Has faded?
No longer jaded
No longer hateful
At least not as much
A mind changed
By a simple touch
Three short words
And the angers gone
Through the mists of bile
Some light has shone?
I cant believe it,
Perhaps I’m different
My perception’s changed
Not fussed by shit…
And its…
For the better..
For a couple of words,
And a collection of letters;
I’m happy.

Now, I don’t mean to be soppy and mushy; but there’s nowhere else I can display my thoughts to an unbiased audience (partly because no bastards read this..) But I wanted to say (again without being mushy) that I’m in love. In complete adoration, infatuation and adulation of a particular person. And overall I couldn’t be any happier if I tried.
I love you.
That’s it.
Simple as.
I.
Love.
YOU.
x

3 year sentence.

2010-10-12T19:21:00.000+01:00

Hello weary World Wide Web. As most of you will be aware (or perhaps even in the same metaphorical boat) I am now a student; a crusty scraggy alcohol guzzling money scavenging student slovenly taking up all your favourite drinking spots and town centres being “student-y”
And it’s brilliant! Not at all like what I expected but certainly brilliant nonetheless. Aside from drinking litres and litres of whatever mind numbing intoxicant I can get my hands on I have actually done some work, admittedly not very much but hey; It’s the first month.
But as with every major change in life there comes certain problems and dilemmas. In this case? The usual complaint;
FUCKING PEOPLE!
Not everyone, not even a major percentage, in fact most of the students on campus are generally lovely individuals unbiased and quite willing to accept me for the foul mouthed sarcastic wind up I am but the occasional oddity seems to crop up. Every so often there will be someone who seems to have crawled (barely) through their A levels and has unfortunately ended up in the same place as my good self. The usual type of course loutish males in grey sweatpants who seem to insist that everything is “reet fooking gay mayteeee” despite always hanging around in large groups of similarly dressed, fake tanned males wearing wooden beaded pendants which look not too dissimilar to anal beads.
Without these individuals the world would generally be a nicer place, free from the wolf whistling “whhaaeeey-ing” troglodytes that seem to fill the SU bar every evening just before they go out into town (presumably looking for “clunge” or “a tasty bit of snatch, seriously how these gentlemen ever manage to romance a lady is beyond me- oh no wait: alcohol)
Aside from being woken up at 3am most mornings (aside from when I’m out till around that time getting into various puerile humoured misadventures) by the inevitable banging on doors/ singing/ undecipherable grunting. I’m generally having a wonderful time; with a fantastic bunch of friends (I give them about three months before they realise I’m like this ALL of the time and run away/hang themselves/ repeatedly kick themselves in the face out of stress.) A wonderful course full of lots of arty (if not the occasional brown nosing prima donna) and beautiful people (And the award for geekiest specky weirdo goes to me!- again L) who I’m sure no doubt will have plenty of fascinating ideas and outlooks which will mindfuck new ideas into my head. The next three years looks to be a journey of weird and wonderful encounters with some truly brilliant people.

And I cant wait :D

And on the seventh day? God was knackered so he watched Jeremy Kyle in his Pyjamas.

2010-08-25T23:56:00.000+01:00

http://www.askstudent.com/religion/evolution-shouldnt-be-taught-in-public-schools/
Currently, There are six states in the USA that either do not teach The evolution theory, or do but to an “unsatisfactory standard” Now, Unlike most God-Basing cynics I have up until this point avoided the argument against evolutionary theory being taught in schools.
Until I read that above article, which at first made me titter with bewilderment at how mind numbingly stupid some People *cough * Americans * Cough * can be. I began to read more about the arguments raised (usually by bible bashing Christian nut-jobs) as to why this theory should not be taught. My favourite Quote from literally MINUTES of research is the following:
“Evolution is nothing but pure THEORY. Yet the Board of Education says that we must be taught it. Is evolution not Atheist? There is no class for Creationism. So if you teach Evolution at least teach Creationism along with it.”

Just give me a minute to stop laughing and then I will continue.
It begins by informing me that the theory of evolution is nothing but a theory. Point taken.
But even still, It’s a theory with plenty of scientific evidence to back it up. Without time machines we can never really know if we did or did not evolve, but the tonnes of fossils, scientific research and general evidence found over the last decade at least is enough to give backing to the theory.
On the other hand we have the “Magic Man done it” theory usually supported by people who have usually only read the one book, the “good” book. And their theory is basically just that “magic man done it” If you were to ask a child who believed in the theory I imagine they would say something similar to this:
“well, there was nuffink, and then there was summfink”
Ah right, And how did it get there?
“Well, this big beardy bloke called God done it.”
And how did he do that?
“He was a wizard.”
A wizard, right. And we just all appeared from thin air, via magic?
“Yep”
But what about the dinosaurs?
At this point, the child would place his fingers in his ears and start going “LALALALA I CANT HEAR YOU” over and over again until the question went away.
The whole theory stipulates that we just appeared, exactly as we are now how ever many years ago? Its nonsense even without looking at fossils and timelines we can see that the Human body hasn’t always been the way it is now, Humans are infinitely complex, our circulatory system, eyes, brain and generally everything about us has evolved over millennia making it what it is today. It did not just happen!
And at this point, the intelligent design people would cut in: !”Ah! But, you see God did this. We are so wonderful that surely we cannot just happen through chance? Random things cannot have just happened without something pushing them along can they?” And the answer is no.
But stupid design elements like I don’t know, a hand the size of a frying pan and double jointed knees would have not been passed on because they were eaten by the
Early predators (hat didn’t exist)
If humans were placed on this earth exactly as they were, then what the fuck is an appendix for? Show? Have you ever seen an appendix? It looks like a sock full of rotten grapes, and what is it for? Processing grass. Something we no longer need to do thanks to that magic word: God err I mean Evolution.
We threw ideas such as the four humours out of the window years ago, We realised the earth wasn’t flat centuries ago, We realised that Kerry Katona was talent less just after she appeared. Why don’t we just throw the idea of magic creation out too?
Fear.
Children should be given access to both ideas, the right and wrong ones. And then they can choose which one to follow. The one with evidence, or the one with a really old book to back it up.

A Night in the Life.

2010-08-17T23:59:00.000+01:00

“You should come out, It’ll be fun!”
Said My friend through the phone,
And I figured “why not?”
Better than a night stuck at home
So I spruce myself up, gel my hair wear my shirt
Ready to be “wingman” for my friend, who is out for flirt

So we get to this club, if you could call it that…
And I get in the beers and we sit down to chat
Its one of those bars where the loo seat doesn’t stay up
With the flees swarming round the warm beer filled cups
But its nice there, live music and the drinks pretty cheap
So and enjoyable night isn’t too big a leap

My friend leans over, nice bloke, full of whimsy
Even if his morals are a little bit flimsy
He asks “on the pull?” with a chuckle as he sips on his beer
I reply with such sarcasm “nah, You go I’ll stay here.”
“Why not?” he replies, there is shock in his voice
“It doesn’t matter” he continues “Ill set you up, you’ve no choice”
The night moves on, I’m still drinking
And I sit there and I’m thinking
That perhaps….
I could try talking..
To someone …
New..
But you see, it’s not something I’d usually do.
But I can’t see why,
I shouldn’t give it a try.
I mean what’s the worst that could happen?

The band finishes playing, we applaud and we cheer
And my friend comes over and he’s brought me a beer.
We go outside, he lights up I feel a knock on my shoulder
A girls bumped into me, not my ages just a bit older
She says “sorry!” I say “no problem”
Then we turn back into the night
Then it happens again
“Sorry to bother you, but do you have a light?”
so I click it she starts puffing and she says “Thank you, I’m Leanne”
“I’m James” I reply
and I go to shake her hand
My friend winks and he nudges, Whispers “you’re in there mate”
But were just having chitchat, we aren’t out on a date.
Her and I get talking, and I buy her a drink
And we move to the sofas, we sit down and we sink
And we chat, about shit, nothing-important just crap
And she tells me where she’s from and which part of the map
She says she likes live indie music, and films with a twist
And she hates it when guys take advantage when she’s pissed
I agree, call them dickheads and we laugh for a while
She says she likes my shirt and I let out a smile
We talk for ages, we keep drinking
Then she asks me to dance,
And I’m not out to pull her, nor to get in her pants
But its nice.

As the night draws to closing, she moves off to chat with friends
But she tells me she wants another dance before the night ends
I go outside, there he is
My friend is looking smug
“I thought you weren’t out to pull?”
As he gives his beer a glug
“I’m not we’re just chatting”
as I’m lying through my teeth,
But I’m not going to tell him that I like her
I won’t show what’s underneath.
Because I’m not chancing fate
Even if he is my mate
But I’ve already thought about it
So maybe it’s too late.

I’m thinking too much now,
And my heart begins to thump
I could end this with a kiss and it started with a bump,
I go back inside to find her,
And I’m waiting for that dance
And yes I suppose I could get rebuffed
But I suppose there is some chance.
I build myself up, get my confidence going
But not too much
Don’t want my arrogance showing.

But then my heart sinks as I see it,
She’s leaving with her friend
Should have made my move earlier
But now my time has come to end
As she exits, I am gutted
This is why I never try
They Build me up, then let me down
Then piss off with some guy.

And I’m saddened, but I keep joking
My friend pass me cigarettes
And I smoke them
Down some beers
Spend my night lonely
If only he hadn’t phoned me
But, I shouldn’t let it get me down
Because it wasn’t a relationship
And we were not on a date
But I suppose that puts a pin in the idea
That good things come to those who wait.

Thicker than water.

2010-08-07T15:20:00.000+01:00

Got a call yesterday
Got this feeling in my gut
My little wonders feeling sick
And my heart stops beating: shut.
I feel useless, cos I cant help him
No one can, its shit.
Wired up, injected in
And all I can do is sit
There
And stare
Wondering what to do?
And I know the kid’s a soldier
But still I feel colder
Got to spend the rest of his life
With that up on his shoulder?
Its wont be easy, far from it
But he’s got family
Right by him,
Through all this fucking shit
And fuck what’s in his blood
It’s what blood it is that matters
He’s a Carnell
He’s a fighter
So he’ll leave the world in tatters.
And I’ll help him
I’ll stand by him
And I wont just sit there crying
He’s a star, he’s a wonder
And he tears my world asunder
Makes me laugh, he makes me cry
He’s my perfect little guy
And I love him: you know why?
Because he’s family
So im with him
From this battle to the slaughter
And it’s gonna be hard and it’s gonna be tough
And im gonna get drunk and im gonna feel rough
But after all Blood’s thicker than water.

WORLD EXCLUSIVE: CHERYL COLE SHITS LIQUID NITROGEN!!!!

2010-07-31T16:27:00.003+01:00

As you may or may not know, I work in a garage.
Sounds fun huh? Well it is. My day is usually filled with dealing with the piss-heads of Colwyn Bay stewed in their own cidery juices belching effervescent wisps of pure ethanol toward my counter, failing this I have to deal with grump uptight ogres who expect me to have memorised their registration, car type, social security number, pump number and the colour of their underwear the second the enter the forecourt: upon failing to do this I am usually met with a stare which is somewhere between “what do you mean you shit in my milkshake?” and “How dare you compare me to a racist pineapple!” on the emotional scale. Occasionally there is a temporary moment of solace or freedom from the day’s abuse and at this point I attempt to relax by drinking a nice cup of tea or reading a comic. If I have no comic to read or if it’s Saturday or Sunday daytime I will usually venture outside my little safety cubicle to fetch one of the papers from outside to flick through. I might be into superheroes but I do like to at least pretend in into reality sometimes. This is usually when I am most calm
But not today. Today I spent about ten minutes muttering to myself “what a load of albatross bollocks, this is outrageous Etc. Etc.” Why? Was it because a passing fruit bat had pissed in my hair? Was it because a leprechaun had called me a sheep shagger and lept away across a bridge made of toffee? Was it because Michael Parkinson’s future ghost came back in time to buy a scratch card, but didn’t have the money to pay for it and instead just disappeared taking the scratch card with him. Leaving me with a two pound loss in my till? No it was none of those things. Instead it was the shocking, earth shattering revelation. Something that im sure will shake both religious and scientific communities for years to come: X Factor contestant Joe “failed career 1 week after winning” McElderry is GAY!
I know. Fuck. Me. How will we recover? How dare the Sun release this information? Did they not think of the repercussions? There’ll be violence in the streets, old people raping dwarves in wells, Absolute chaos! The world will NEVER be the same again. Oh no wait, nobody gives a shit.
Sorry you see for a moment there I got actual news (you know, wars and politics and science and all that “boring stuff”) and bullshitty news nobody cares about (this stuff) mixed up, and it would appear the editors of The Sun did too.
I wouldn’t be so bothers, I know how pathetically obsessed we are with no hope news like this, however this particular rage was started not just by Joe “I need to sell more records, there fore I’ll come out” McElderry but by the whole layout of this Saturday’s newspaper. Pages one, big splash show’s young Joe smiling away gaily (pardon the pun) with the headline Joe: Im Gay. Anyone glancing at this would assume as I did: Slow news day. And shrug it off. Clearly there was nothing more important than this guy coming out after his album sales dropped terribly (though by that measuring stick he should have come out far sooner.) but that’s just it, there ARE more important things to be plastered across the front page than a frankly under whelming revelation from someone I’ve hardly ever heard of. And these things are not found on page 1, or 2 or indeed 3 (for there are boobies there!) pages 4 and five are taken up by a giant article about Joe (frankly, I don’t see how his coming our requires two pages, the headline summed it up pretty succinctly) Pages six and seven are taken by a film review and a story about a young girl killed between two rocks (odd that such a terrible thing is pushed so far, clearly it isn’t important, at least not as important as a gay man or some boobs!) page nine has a lovely feature updating us on how vapid/healthy Cheryl Cole is getting and then? Pages ten and eleven, clearly unimportant I don’t even care what it is probably something about tortoises
Oh no wait: it’s about a girl who lay dying in her hospital bed: misdiagnosed by under trained staff, franticly texting her mum giving her minute by minute updates of the presumably unbearable turmoil she was in . That’s hardly big news is it.
Oh wait, yeah it is. You see what happened there was I got mixed up between actual news and shite nobody cares about: but it clearly isn’t a freak occurrence, as the writers at the Sun seem to suffer from it to.
It’s shocking how obsessed we are with celebrities: no matter how minor that they become the focal point of all news. When do terrible stories such as Jo Dowling’s terrible ordeal resulting in her death get pushed back in favour of someone looking to horn in on gay sales figures of his upcoming album?
What have we become when stories like “I was stabbed and left for dead by hubby” are pushed into tiny boxes in favour of “Cheryl Cole has got a new hat!”
Fucking ludicrous.

" I love this Part!"

2010-06-07T21:53:00.002+01:00

What you see above you is a reflection of two things:
1.) My obsessive mind- I make lists about everything
2.) An example of what I do when im meant to be revising.

You see, this year is what some people would call the most important year of my life, education wise and to that end they have decided to put lots of exams at the end of it, exams that will affect the rest of my life: I do well? I get a good job (apparently.) I do badly? The in end up on the street, licking sandwich filling of a used condom.
I don’t want to write a whole post on “exam stress” because that would firstly bore me to death and secondly it would remind me how little work I’ve done in the last hour rather just arseing about listening to “you cant always get what you want to” by the Rolling Stones and doodling on paint.
So instead the topic falls to those little flaws that humans have: namely our ability to become distracted by the slightest thing.
Even when I was writing that last paragraph it took me three times as long as it should because I was putting music onto my Ipod (something that doesn’t need doing) and making a pop tart: and when I say making I mean dancing about in the kitchen waiting for the toaster to do it for me.
My average day is split up into three sections: One third is doing the things I want to do, the second part is split up into doing the thing I have to do but don’t want to, and the third? The third is made up of all the things I do to put off doing the things I have to do but don’t want to, thus making those tasks take twice as long: then I wonder why I never have any time to do what I want.
If people spent less time arseing around seeing how many coins you can flick into an empty Pringles tube, or whether you can make an adequate drum set out of the things on your desk, or making lists of the top five celebrities they’d like to share a cigarette with, we might have more time to do the things we want.
Unless they are the things we really want to do and we just hide them away only to have them seep out- I can tell you I don’t think I’ve ever been as temporarily happy as I was a few weeks ago wherein instead of writing one of my mind numbing essays I instead saw how many little mints I could get into a little column (12)
I think it’s a good testament to just how boring everyday life must be if we look to any little escape from it even temporarily, I mean if someone would rather carve a face into a pineapple than do their tax returns that says a lot about tax returns right?

“Turned over a new leaf, then tore right through it.”

2010-06-04T00:27:00.002+01:00

“Magic is all change”
That’s what we are often told in fantasy and science fiction films, that magic = change
By this token, change = magic, which I suppose, on reflection of recent experiences is true.
As change, is impossible, or as possible as magic in the sense that the only real way to “change” is via misdirection or misleading the audience around you. No one ever changes in any sense of the word; they merely alter their behaviour in order to convince everyone else that everything’s “fine” or that they’re a “better person”
And even if you do change, everyone becomes that sceptical member of the magician’s audience who spends every minute assuming they know what’s going on behind the big curtain.
If you don’t change, people moan, if you do people tell you that something’s wrong about your behaviour
And you can change your hair or the clothes as much as you want, but you haven’t changed. Not inside, you’ve just added another layer to keep people away and convince them that it’s “cool”
This isn’t some bitter attack on anyone but myself, I was foolish to assume that growing my hair out or wearing a few little bracelets would have any affect on the environment around me. I still feel shitty every morning and every night, I still drink myself silly most weekends, I still spend my time reading comics and hoping for a better life where you can escape problems by running away from them or better yet; flying. Pathetic
And by attempting a change? All I’ve done is made things worse; people don’t like me happier; I’m irritating, too much energy, hard to balance any kind of mood without tipping over the edge. Too much food on too small a plate guess

So as of next week? Back to the old James, the one people can actually stand to be around without second guessing his every move.

And just like that?
“Abra Kadabra”

The lord created the earth in 7 days, The Beatles added an eighth

2010-05-25T12:12:00.000+01:00

Apparently, Im going to hell; At least that’s what a Liverpool born minister reckons. You see this conclusion was drawn from a brief conversation I had with the aforementioned religious believer in the busy streets of Liverpool shortly after my eighteenth birthday.
The usual day shopping (mainly for comic books I must admit.) was interrupted by the bellowing hysterical tones of various bible quotes and religious hatred shouted via loudspeaker to the pedestrians occupying the city of cultures streets.
“repent now or burn forever!” he attested waving his arms like some drowning man who had just fallen off the titanic. As I got closer to the religious racket I could see his fellow church members handing out “leaflets” if they could be called that, I prefer “rubbish that hasn’t yet been placed in a bin” with the usual happy cheery “you are all going to die, all of us are going to die. Except me” crap and they weren’t just handing them out, oh no they were practically forcing them upon the busy shoppers weighed down by their primark bags and mundane worries. These people were practically pinning there scraps of religious bullshit to people; like their lives depended on it! Like without these 30 synonyms for “eternal damnation” there would be no way that any of us would get into those big pearly gates.
I avoid street preachers like the plague on a good day, and today was no exception. But my attempts to steer clear of the latest fanatics was unsuccessful: they found me. It was like they could smell the fear on me, either that or I looked like easy prey. Before I knew it I had leaflets thrust into my hand, I barely glanced at them, deciding rather to simply screw it up and throw it on the ground and at this point the leader of the cult saw me, his eyes turned to an icy glare and his wickedly bony finger pointed me out “take him!” he started “blind to the world around him!” he continued “he will most surely burn!” he finished.
Bastard.
He’s got me there right? I mean I wear glasses so the pun isn’t lost on me, but im assuming he was rather referring to my spiritual blindness rather than my actual short sightedness, still the choice of words was apt at least.
But burning in hell? I don’t think so. I wont be placed in an eternal pit of fire which I don’t believe exists simply for throwing a leaflet on the ground, hell no. (See what I did there?)
People like this make my blood boil; religious belief is a fantastic idea in principle: it gives you a strict set of moral codes to live by and in most cases can make you a good willed and a general good person. But occasionally (and im saying occasionally here see?) it goes wrong and people think that just because they wear a special hat, or get on their knees once a week and tell people how sorry they are that they are better than everyone else? Like just because they gave up pork it gives them the right to tell me how much I deserve to suffer? Bull shit.
Find me the empirical proof in fact any kind of proof for any reason to believe in an afterlife other than fear and I might repent my sins, but there’d still be the point of which hell am I going to? The Mormon outer darkness? The Christian pit of fire? Or am I simply going to be reincarnated as Peter Kay’s shit stains? I don’t know, and neither do you: not empirically at least. And so until you do?
Don’t tell me where im headed.

Are there any gullible widows in the room?

2010-05-19T22:29:00.001+01:00

Do you ever wonder how we progress intellectually as a species?
I do.
Im not claiming to be a genius or anything im just saying that sometimes I see someone do something and think “What IS going through your head?”
This creeps up usually when im watching a psychic wow an audience or a clairvoyant amaze a poor widow: what do the audience think when they watch this?
Are we actually that spiritually naïve, to assume that someone can talk to the dead, and that they aren’t instead just plucking random information out of the air?
“Did he wear a hat?”
“Oh my god he did, Joh-“
“STOP! Was his name John?”
“Oh my god!”
How do they do it? Maybe I’m too cynical; but I just don’t think there’s an afterlife, and if there is? Why would they want to talk to fake tanned, teeth whitened, white polyester suited idiots with names like “Derek Strange” or “Cyril Power”?
I mean, at a young age we realise there is no such thing as the tooth fairy, Father Christmas or the Easter Bunny or the 4th of July Pumpkin Monster (Im sorry children, but they simply don’t exist; or at least they did, until we killed them.) and we move on, we realise that there is just no way for any of these things to exist., not logically, not empirically: no way, not a chance in hell but still these people persist in looking for the answers to life’s unfathomable questions.
And fair enough, someone needs to find answers to “what happens next?” (Though I assume the only reason to believe its anything metaphysical is through fear.) but if you are seeking an answer do you really expect to find it from some rip off merchant with a smoke machine and blue lights? Do these people really seem like the ones to understand the infinite complexities of the universe and its workings? Or do they look like people who failed a drama course and realised they could make money out of the desperate?
I don’t have such a problem with “psychics” the misdirection and psychological techniques they employ are fantastic at times: so long as they don’t attempt to mislead you with claims of “supernatural powers” Uri Geller is an example of this: he was given fantastic psychological powers to…bend spoons? Surely if the cogs of the universe wanted him to show us their infinite wisdom they would give him something a bit more spectacular?
My main problem is the performers themselves, these gifted individuals who prey on people’s insecurities, grief and need for comfort, its disgusting. Its completely disgusting! Lying to some poor crying mother whose son has died. If I walked up to someone at a funeral and said “ah, its all cool. He wanted to choke to death on a bottle cap anyway, oh and he always hated those stupid pineapple chunks you put in his lunch box, that’ll be a tenner” I’d be hit. But if I dressed up in a glitzy jacket (which I do have) and had thumping techno music as I walked over I’d be hailed as a “spiritualist medium”?
I suppose its our need for comfort, our fear that in those last moments on this earth that person couldn’t really say they were sorry and forgive us for our wrongdoings, instead they just shit themselves and said “oh, that bus is getting awful close-“

Give up.

2010-05-04T23:10:00.001+01:00

On march 1st, Roger Daltry turned 66. This was the man who was once famed for saying “I hope I die before I get old” and he was right, of course yet again, (so as my recent experiences would agree) not about what he did, as he recently became part of the sexagenarian club but instead about what he said
“I hope I die before I get old”
And he’s right, it’s the saying everyone should live for, because once you hit about fifty? You’re fucked.
I mean, what do they do all day?
You see them in the cafeterias, dribbling mashed up biscuit and milky coffee down their chins, talking about all the children they cant have anymore, and all the work they don’t do, all the buses they don’t pay for and all that other trivial nonsense they never actually achieve.
And yet, they always have something to talk about, the worst mistake you can ever make is to ask an old person what they’ve done that week. Because whereas most people would simply give you a highlight of the weeks events these coffin dodging give you a play by play of every single monotonous, tedious event that transpired every minute of every day.

Then again, I DO want a free bus pass.

On a different note. This ends soon .

Just poetry for me please :)

2010-04-22T21:52:00.002+01:00

Heres the story: last year i did a couple of nights of stand-up poetry at various different locations and between the two gigs i did i had to come up with something quick to avoid rehashing old material, at the time i realised that whilst writing i had never written anything other than arguements between me and some idiot. I quickly set out to write a "ballad" or "love poem" but didnt really have much inspiration in the everyday world i combined past experince and the feeling you get with my terrible bad luck... this was the result, its alled "The ballad"

Train station waiting room,
Eyes so bright they bloom
Luscious natural bright glimmering hair
Styled and sprayed to perfection
As you can see she’s grabbed my attention…

Perhaps even gained my affection,
As she looks I smirk and I stare at my shoes
Trying to hide those hints those fleeting glimpses of clues
As my head rises, she looks up too
And for the first time our eyes meet
She smiles and I smile and stare back at my feet

Its odd, she’s so pretty she’s like my ideal
Like someone’s taken my type and given it form that is real
Her beauty is captivating, like sailors lost at sea
Like mermaids to sea captains, that’s her effect on me
As my ship hits a ground, to the rocks I am drawn
As seconds turns to minutes, and the minutes drag on…

But im must say now, before I offend
That this girl is no stranger, she’s a friend of a friend
And I don’t make it a habit to stare at cute girls
Before you call the police, as the worry unfurls

As her train departs, she wheels out her bag
As the silence starts to grate and the tedium begins to drag
“here, I’ll give you a hand” I rushidly blurt out
Now im going to have to suffer the sins of my mouth

“aw thanks, you don’t have to” as she lifts them, lets out a sigh
“Here, let me help, its no problem!” I reply
“im James” I begin, “im a good friend of Abz”
“Ye THINK?” I think as my mouth still blabs.

Our light conversations cut short, as friends reminisce
Don’t want to go in to heavy, but still I persist.
I make jokes and she laughs, and we get to talk
Though im surprised she’s not put off, with my eyes on stalks

Were getting on real well, like we met long ago
Like she’s not just this girl, like she’s someone I know
Its obscure, peculiar, like something’s amiss
She likes what I like, this is heaven its bliss

And as the days pass by, we meet again and again
We watch a movie at mine; we go walk in the rain
And of course, im only their as a friend of a friend
But it’s a start I suppose; it’s a means to an end

It all started with a goodbye wave,
But it s soon became a hug
I don’t think ive ever got on with someone this much you know?
I feel comfortable with her, I feel warm I feel snug
But as with most things, soon it took a turn for the worse
Like Rasputin or Grey, im the victim of a curse.
You see for the first few days, things all went well
Then on day four? Well just listen as I tell.

The usual thing, around half past nine
My friend and this girl, ring the doorbell at mine
We strolled down town, the usual chitchat ensues
Bout, my Watchmen t-shirt, and her bright purple shoes

My friend and her squeeze, walked ahead to hug and smooch
And we stayed behind, walked to rhos just to mooch
“Ive enjoyed myself” she says, “You’re a real nice Guy”
“Thanks” I chuckle, “your nice yourself” I reply.

“so you think, you’ll come down again?” I ask, with a hope that she will
“Of course, its been fantastic, nice to meet you your brill”
We hug and I smile, I can and be me! She’s perfect!
This girl is fantastic, with nothing wrong I can detect

But as we walk past a girl she mutters, “she’s fit”
My ears start to burn my heads screaming, “oh shit…”
The ground swallows me up; my face pales eyes wide
My grip on reality is starting to slide…
This beautiful girl with the eyes and the curls
Has revealed with two words, that she much prefers girls.

Its Just my bad luck, it could only be me!
A nail in the coffin for this flawless beauty
And its not one of those things, you can learn to ignore
You find out that this lesbians, the girl you adore.

My heart sinks, I feel sick to my teeth
The surface was perfect, but look what’s beneath
Now how do I act, I don’t know what to do
The girl that you like likes girls herself too…

But don’t give up hope
Don’t let out a sigh
Cos there’s always a chance
That the gay….could be bi?

Its not the clothes that make the scum, but they do help.

2010-04-13T20:03:00.000+01:00

" And the emperor looked at his old and dated robes placed before him on his dressing table and was filled with despair "oh me oh my! He said, how will I be the toast of the town in these old and faded gowns? I must have the latest attire at once!" and so he fetched the two best tailors in all of the land “craft me garments beyond anything of human comprehension” He ordered “make sure they are fashionable and yet more costly than anything available to the gentry” The two tailors ran off with haste and promised to return in two weeks with the latest in high society fashions.
And as promised, two weeks later the tailors returned, laying out the clothes before the emperor, a look of horror and bewilderment filled his face, he picked the clothes up: A tight fitted grey t-shirt with the words “HENLEYS” printed across it in large neon block capitals, he then moved to the undergarments beneath the shirt “what is this?!” he exclaimed furiously “I believe they are called sweatpants sire” the first tailor replied “they are all the rage in the youthful community” with this, the emperor looked at the tailors with a look that could only equate incandescent confusion and he exclaimed “Are they fucking high? I can’t wear those things; I’ll look like an idiot, fuck it! I’ll go out nude” ….”

Above is a short extract from the second children’s novel I am currently in the process of publishing, it is titled “The Emperor’s new robes: What really happened” and it should be hitting the shelves around mid June, along with my audio book of the great number one best seller “Ten reasons why I hate Gio-Goi”
Tonight’s ramble is as you have probably guessed on the subject of “fashion” or the so called prancing of whatever crap they are trying to sell us these days, It comes around after three lengthy conversations with my Mother and My sister, who above all claim that I “dress like a forty year old man” this usually comes about after the enquiry of “what did you buy?” any time I go clothes shopping, more precisely it comes about after I say “Just a couple of t shirts and some converse”
You see, Im not what you would exactly call a dedicated follower of fashion, simply because I don’t agree with the majority of fashionable items to have arisen in the last three years, I mean do you remember when Puffa-Jacket body warmers were the rage? What the hell were they about, who looked at that and thought: “yeah, the michelin man is IN this year…” Don’t get me wrong, occasionally a certain style or kitschy new thing will come in and I’ll enjoy it, I mean its hardly new but the button necked t-shirt is currently filling my wardrobe, simple because they are comfortable, and you can mix them with a few things.
Occasionally, my sister will show me something on the internet and say “why don’t you buy this?” occasionally its one of those whimsical little t-shirts with a slogan on (though not the misogynist ones like “Read this whilst I check out your tits” Or “I will rape you and leave you in a ditch if you don't suck my penis now” Not those…”) just an old eighties movie logo, or a funny little geeky joke and I might pick it up, but the majority of the time? She’ll suggest some horrible woollen creature with large neon buttons and drawstrings hanging from the nipples and I will look at it for a moment, at first deciphering whether it’s a picture of a dead rodent or indeed a jumper and I’ll say “well, why would I want that?” to be countered with “Because its in fashion James! Everybody has one!” now if this were to happen on April first I could understand the joke, but it doesn’t it happens far more frequently than once a year; People actually buy those horrible things?
I suppose my point is, fashion seems to be dictated not by “what looks nice” but instead by what everyone else is wearing, and most people are only wearing it because its been spoon fed to them like chewed up stagnant marzipan in Top Shop or River Island, Go into either of those shops and you will see exactly the same person, cut and pasted across the store in their grey sweatpants and “Henley’s” shirts, when did fashion become less about personal expression and more about vague anonymity solely to fit in? Im not one of those people that walks around in bright neon colours wild hair and extravagant facial piercings to be individual either, but at least I don’t simply wear what everyone else tells me Is “good” or “cool” or god forbid “fit”
Just give me my converse in whatever colour, nice pair of jeans, plain t-shirt in black or red with occasionally a comic book logo on it, and my coat, and I’m content, but don’t ever try to put me in some neon pink crop top, with no neck covered in skulls made of circus clowns livers and condoms, it really isn’t for me.
Thing is, I have this theory: If a big fashion designer said that I don’t know… socks and sandals were in, then a day later Robert Pattinson or Paris Hilton, Angelina Jolie or whoever was seen wearing white socks and black sandals, I think everyone would buy them, despite them being one of the biggest fashion faux pa’s on the planet: “Someone else wore them and everyone likes them so…I HAVE TO HAVE THEM!”
Just because someone tells you something is good and plasters that things image all over billboards doesn’t make it fucking nirvana now does it? You can’t polish a turd after all.

But if I put neon sweet corn in that turd and a designer label plastered across the top of it? I guarantee at least a few person would buy it, chances are They'd look like this:

Stab me in the testes if you want, but dont get in the way of my "fruits candy"

2010-04-09T18:22:00.004+01:00

Just before I start the usual blog post let me tell you a little something about my week, This week I’ve been on holiday, and I recently (last Sunday) turned eighteen, therefore? I've been drunk nearly every night, (it’s kind of the rule) Because of this there have been numerous effects on my behaviour:
1.) I've hardly slept, partly due to fuzzy head (See: Alcohol) and general just being out with people I want to spend as much time as is possible with.
2.) I've done absolutely no work, academic or financial, rarely finding time for a blogpost or to work on the script im meant to be typing/filming named “[FRI]end Zone” (more to follow on that shit later.) : this morning was my first shift in a week and I can assure you it dragged. Don’t get me wrong, the works good enough and I enjoy my co-workers, but I can only deal with people asking for a certain brand of cigarettes (I’ve never heard of) and then looking at me like im thick when I cant find them STRAIGHT AWAY, I mean come on just because you smoke 40 a day and therefore know exactly what shelf and space they are on, it doesn’t mean I will.
3.) I've lived mainly off these things:
Now I don’t often refer to things as “the bomb” (that’s a lie, I do it a lot.) But these things really are “the bomb” I must have ingested around 250 “fruits candy” produced in some foreign country cheaply and effectively these things give you the bets sugar rush imaginable and therefore I’ve lived off them, I mean who needs hot meals when you can have.. well I don’t know what the ingredients are because its all written in Arabic…but you get the point.

But more to the point due to this mixture of alcohol lack of sleep and a diet consisting of sugar and acid I have been…irritable? Which is where the next “rant” comes from, I call it “Child 2.0”

The number fourteen bus should be condemned; sure it follows its route and gets me where I need to go as all of the other buses do, but Jesus Christ they are rickety as fuck: Buses should be held together by welding and iron bolts, not chewing gum and the stagnant semen of a thousand pikey scumbags, the thing is falling apart, and its only because its mostly old ladies/ young children who get on the bus that the seats haven’t collapsed.
But more to my point, I had to get on this bus and endure sitting three feet away from something that rarely amuses me: A child, more importantly a small, out of control child.
They seem to be appearing with a greater level of frequency don’t they?
I don’t mind children (much) if they are well controlled and behaved, but this little skin container of germs and “potential” just simply did not know how to behave: he sat their firing his replica “star trek phaser” at me, incredibly noisy telling me to “die alien die” and then claiming the badly built, badly held together bus was “our spaceship” here referring to his little sprog of a brother who had candidly fallen asleep presumably due to his poor diet of “fruit shoot” and “farley’s rusks”

Anyway, im aware my freakish ugliness might allow me to be mistaken for something not of this planet, but I’d prefer if my apparent off worldly nature was not pointed out by a foul mouthed little council estate dwarf with a plastic ray gun.
But this isn’t the only time ive been irritated by children and im starting to realise that it isn’t necessarily their fault: it’s the fucking parents.
These are the parents that bitch and moan about how it isn’t safe to let their kids out because of unruly teenagers when its their kids that make high school students go on ak-47 blood splattered massacres in the first place. “oh, my child got fat because of your junk food” what the fuck? Your child got fat because all you feed it is badly processed shit that is thrown into the microwave for three minutes the scooped onto their Peppa pig plate and they’re told to “dig in fuckwad” Im aware im being self righteous and know it all, and it could come of as just naïve abuse due to the fact that I “have never raised a child” as im sure one of there cave dwelling simpletons would accuse however im not sure they have ever “raised a child” and if they have they certainly haven’t done it right. Giving a 5 year old a replica gun and allowing him to “shoot” other people simply because you are far to preoccupied with when your next dole fix will roll in? Its hardly good fucking moral standards “what’s that mummy?” “it’s a plastic replica of a weapon which can disintegrate human flesh” “cool can I have one” “yeah, because im far to busy shitting out another slime dwelling afterbirth.”
Im not against kids, ive got a little nephew myself and at times he’s annoying, but he isn’t that fucking bad. These kids will grow up assuming that fucking inanimate objects and calling everything “sound” is all right, which it isn’t. Ever.
My theory? All children should be kept in an underground institution until they’re around 6/7 and they can look after themselves to a level wherein they wont be cramming up the bus aisles or screaming in the streets because they want another Buzz light-year cock ring.

Ehh, I need to get some sleep.

jam

Would you like some bile with that hatred sir?

2010-04-04T18:53:00.000+01:00

I was asked today, whilst out with my family for the usual monotonous family meal outing whether I wanted my chicken to be “organic” or not.
I said no, and the lady looked at me with some peculiar facial expression as if I’d said “no, in fact give it to me raw covered in blood and ill just smear it all over myself and dance around in the moonlight like an ancient witch-doctor” she muttered under her breath, scrawled some words onto her little notepad proceeded off into the kitchen, cursing me for slaughtering innocent chickens no doubt.
If you are wondering as to why I didn’t want “organic” chicken for my meal I will now elaborate and expand my criteria for making the aforementioned decision:
1.) “Organic” chicken cost four pound more than the already pricey meal on the menu
2.) I couldn’t be sure there was any real difference between “organic” and “battery-farm mentally fucked up” chicken
3.) I didn’t really care.
You see, im fully against “organic” food of any kind, because mainly the people that buy it only buy it to shush a sense of guilt: “oh the poor chickens must have a good life, they’re all in cramped conditions!”
Yes, they are. Cramped conditions standing in their own excrement until one day they are saved by slaughter and fried/flambéed/boiled/steamed/stomped on/licked or whatever your particular penchant for chicken might be.
People that buy organic chicken because they want the chicken to have a healthy life really piss me off; they’re like half-arse vegetarians you know? Oh, I don’t want the chicken to have a shit life, because I value it: but ill still slaughter it to feed my rumbling tummy. As long as I don’t feel TOO guilty about the fact that I killed a little animal then its all right, but don’t let me see that chicken in a cage before you slice its head off and drain the blood it simply isn’t “humane”
Its like really non-committal to the humane treatment of animals, yes chickens are kept in terrible conditions and then slaughtered but either way they are still slaughtered to feed your little family outing, slaughtered and then grilled and served in pig flesh for you madam, slaughtered and roast served with whatever dead plant the chef can find for your husband, slaughtered and fried in various fats and oils, mashed up into the shape of a happy face or star of fucking David and then presented to your snivelling little brats who insist of screaming and making unpleasant and frankly aggravating noises whilst I try to eat MY chicken, which was slaughtered too… but at least it didn’t live under the false pretence that the world was full of fucking sunshine only to one day be picked up by the neck and snapped in half.

My meal was enjoyable, there was no real hint that the meat I was eating was…. Treated inhumanely, its still chicken after all.
I guarantee you look in the shopping carts of most of the target market for “organic” food eaters, and you will see the same anomalies: dried fucking fruit, pot purée, fair trade apples and bananas, caviar and fucking rose oil. The same things, and they pull that cart into the cark park, enter into their 4 door 4 wheel drive, 4 gallons of petrol just to 3 point turn fucking land rover, and off they go . Because of course they have an incredibly steep drive… and therefore need all that traction just to wrangle with the tarmac of the 0.05% steep inclination from their homes with fucking conservatories and patio heaters. They’re destroying the planet with their fuel intake, but at least they’re letting the chickens enjoy the last few days on the burning rock.
I gave them a tip, and I paid and I left. Its very doubtful they’ll be asking if I want anything “organic” again
......

Luke 3.14: Dont be a twat.

2010-04-01T20:17:00.001+01:00

Guys, Tonight’s post is a little more interactive than most, in order to understand it I want you to read the following article:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20100331/ts_csm/291560

Read it? Good
Now, let me begin
WHAT. THE. FUCK?!
Im not gay, nor am I a big supporter of war. But I do support two things:
Gay rights and fucking respecting people.
What the fuck is this shit about?
I've told people about my distaste for the “Westboro Baptist church” before, but this takes it to a whole new level.
The Westboro church has reached a new low, no longer are they simply expressing their beliefs on the sidewalks or burning down gay people houses in a desperate bid for attention now they are goading people into attacking them so that they can gain cash and publicity: fucking low.
Isn’t it bad enough that this guy has to bury his son? Without having to deal with hundreds of dumbfuck self-righteous arseholes picketing the funeral? When did being a Christian mean you were allowed to have zero respect for anyone who wasn’t?
Im not going to stigmatise all Christians under the shit stained banner put up by the Westboro church but I am however going to use them as an example of what I hate about religion: it makes some people absolute twats.
The Bible is full of contradiction and statements, which can be read into in numerous different perspectives however its basic morals are pretty simple:
Do unto others as you would have them do to you". Luke 6:31
"Do to no one what you yourself dislike." (Tobit 4:15)
Put fucking simply? Respect everyone the way you wish to be respected, love everyone as equal and respect the living and the dead.
Simple huh? So where were these self-righteous dicks when those passages were being read in Sunday school? I don’t know presumably scrawling the words “god hates Fags” into the pews with a pair of compasses.
The bible does condemn practising homosexuals sure, and okay if you want to be committed to Christianity then fine you can go against gay people: but show a little bit of respect to the dead.
This kid’s sexuality has fuck all to do with his death or indeed anything else due to his military status so why bring it up, and at his funeral of all places?

“a Christian fundamentalist group that demonstrates during military funerals to gain attention for its antigovernment, antihomosexual message”- Yahoo
Does anyone else find it rather pathetically ironic that a group claming to be “antigovernment” is now hiding behind the first amendment? Freedom of speech and using it as fuel for their “anti-faggot” fire? It’s fucking repulsive that someone would be so fucking hypocritical “hey, we hate our government, but don’t think we won’t use it when it’s convenient!”
They took him to court, as if the death of his son was not enough they took him to court because he told them exactly what he didn’t like about them: and they bitched and whined. They deserve more than a fucking 5 million incitement they need beating over the head with a rusty iron crucifix.
Thankfully people are supporting this farther for what’s happened and if you read the article an American celebrity Bill O’Reilly has offered to foot the bill which is fantastic: I’d hate to thing that shit like this would go unnoticed and the church would get some kind of moral high ground which they certainly do not deserve: Freedom of speech is fine, but it should be applied with respect. I wouldn’t be allowed to burn religious things in front of their church, and even if I could I wouldn’t because I respect their personal belief system: no matter how fucked up it is. Can they not do the same thing? And protest outside their own church, away from the funeral of someone who died in a manner completely unconnected to their homosexuality?

“Military funerals have become pagan orgies of idolatrous blasphemy, where they pray to the dunghill gods of Sodom and play taps to a fallen fool,”
And what? You preaching this anti-gay bullshit isn’t worshipping a vengeful God? It isn’t portraying the “omni benevolent” God as an uncaring bastard? You doing this isn’t making believers look like complete and utter white trash retards? Remember when you point a finger there’s always three others pointing back. And now you’ve got one more: Its mine and it’s the middle one.

A belief system is fantastic: it teaches morals and respect, and its great that people can be so dedicated. However humans were apparently given the freedom to choose God or go against him: so you telling me im going to burn in hell: a place I don’t really believe in or trying to enforce your beliefs on those that don’t share them is fucking stupid, grow up and spend more time working on the Christian morals that matter: selflessness, charity, love and peace.

Personally? I just hope one of these fucking idiots dies, in a horrific accident: then well se how much of a “chosen one” they are.

Reasons why I hate my local library #3

2010-04-01T02:02:00.001+01:00

Prepare yourselves guys; this is going to be a big one.

So my first ever post on T.E.N. was about why I didn’t like libraries, and little did you (or indeed I) Know how big it was going to get, at first the three reasons were going to be placed in the same little box, then I realised how pissed off libraries actually made me: I mean they make me fucking livid!
And so I wrote two separate ones and then completely forgot about the last reason, primarily because its content was far more vitriolic, abusive and foul mouthed than the others, so I just pushed it aside and then forgot about it.
However today I did two things, well no, I did more than two things but these things were the things that made me dig up the old sheets of A4 with the post on it:
I got the train to Rhyl this afternoon to drop into the local comic shop (yeah, we have one!) and spend a bit (or indeed after bagging up my books, a lot.) of cash on some graphic novels, this combined with me gawking at the attractive lady in the bookshop (Who im certain I saw working in another book shop in England, but I digress.) made me realise that the third reason why I hated the library was potentially the biggest:

1 fucking five-minute conversation with the school librarian way back four years ago.
This was a woman, who looked like a combination of a crow and a pissed off sultana, a woman so irritating, so self inflated that one five minute conversation with her in my early teens has lead to me having a vendetta against libraries: cute huh?
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the only reason because I’ve been in other libraries that have had similar policies towards the thing that made me hate the woman: Comics

Okay, I know it’s kind of fan-boy ish and a bit sad that someone’s opinion on comics has lead to me hating their career choice, but bear with me.

In the school I go to the lower years have 1 lesson a week of “reading time” wherein, as previously explained in the title of “reading time” you read, for some time.
Now, the selection of books on hand was what any small child would want: crappy teen-slasher novels and shitty romances about “young girls in love” all the shit that nobody ever wanted to read, but they had to because other wise it wouldn’t be “reading time” it’d be “sitting on my arse and flicking coins at Darren Pearce’s head time” and that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. In my schools attempts to appeal to all students they had a selection of graphic novels (The WEIRDEST titles available: I mean Witchblade? Really, you think a comic where the title character walks around half naked is aimed at 12 year olds? )
So me being an avid comic fan from a young age (Cheers dad, like wearing glasses and being asthmatic wasn’t enough to make your son unpopular, lets introduce him to batman: D ) I looked to these books to keep me entertained for about 50 minutes a week, occasionally there were some good ones (a particular run of Justice league versus the “queen of fables” which I read about 5 times in as many months) and some bad ones, but they stopped be from being bored out of my skull and allowed me to carry on my school time unnoticed, aside from the occasional “your reading superman? What a Gaylord!” which was inevitable and uninteresting: I’ve dealt with it until now and will deal with it forevermore, tough shit I suppose.

So, back to the point: not all of the books were on display, and after finishing the limited selection at hand and trying a couple of novels like “hitchhikers guide to the galaxy” and the “Harry Potter” series for a few months I realised that whilst enjoyable, they weren’t my thing. So off I trotted to ask the librarian if she had any other comics for me to book out.
Now, this librarian might I add is known for taking the “power corrupts” concept and totally abusing it, they gave her a job like that and she ruled it with an iron fist and a screwed up anus/face from which she spouted abuse and harsh unkind words to children. I was nervous enough questioning the mighty queen of literature as to whether she had anything else I could read, but when she wasn’t at the desk and I called for assistance, only to be faced with the callous granite like face of medusa inquiring “what do YOU want?” I practically soiled my pants. I gave her my request and she looked at me, her eyes burning pure rage and said “oh, you’re the one that only reads those silly picture books aren’t you?”

Wow, make me feel two inches tall why don’t you.
Yeah, a comic is defined by it using pictures to further tell the story in a more graphic way, but they aren’t fucking “picture books” picture books insinuates “children’s book” or “simple story” or “I-am-a-complete-retard-who-cannot-read-so-I-rely-on-pretty-pictures-to-spell-out-everything” Comic books aren’t for incandescent dullards you know? They’re a widely respected media form of story telling…

She then proceeded to continue “Why don’t you read one of the proper books, like an adult would?”
Okay, so I was young back then so I just gulped and let her get me whatever superman book it was she had stashed away, returned to my table and read it feeling ashamed: She’d basically called me stupid. And that really upset me, if it wasn’t enough me being picked on for still liking comics, Teachers were now telling me that I was thick for enjoying them. The child me just sat down and accepted it.
The adult me? Is still pissed off, if someone gave me that response nowadays? I’d use every swearword, negative adjective and angry noise present in my vocabulary to tell the woman exactly how I felt about her belittling me, and indeed comic books.

You ask most comic book readers and they’ll tell you the number one complaint they have about comics is that they aren’t respected enough, no a comic book will never be the same as “Great Expectations” or “1984” but that doesn’t mean they should be discounted as pieces of fiction aimed solely at children, because for the most part: they aren’t. They haven’t been for a long fucking time.
When Superman and Spiderman first started: yes they were aimed at teenagers, children and young adults but as the issues kept being printed the companies realised that people who had read Spiderman when it first came out lets say, six years ago were still reading it at that point, a large majority of the original audience of Batman was still enjoying the book, so what did DC and Marvel and all the other companies do? They started writing for that audience, at least that’s my theory.

Now, you can dismiss this and say im biased and that comics really are for kids, and yeah I’ll admit it some of them are. But not most of them: Look at the acclaimed “Watchmen” by Alan Moore, the central themes of that book are the political aspects of “superheroes” and the effects that the presence of vigilantes would have on the running of the world. The comic deals with themes such as omnipotence, utilitarianism, rape, murder, absolutism, morality, impotency (don’t fucking ask) and a variety of other themes which would be quite at home in the pages of a gripping adult drama series. Now, you tell me that comics are for children.
An art form should not be dismissed solely for the way it conveys its message, just because comics are covered in primary colours and have fantasy elements it doesn’t mean that they aren’t full of translatable and transitional elements and morals that apply to everyday life, remember that old phrase from The first appearance of Spiderman: Amazing Fantasy #17? “With great power comes great responsibility” that’s a good fucking moral code to live by right there: you are responsible for your actions, so act wisely.
To add more fuel to my fire let me give you a rundown of lets say the last 4-comics/graphic novels I read and their key themes:
1.) Garth Ennis’ “The Boys”
Plot is basically: if superheroes existed and they were assholes, what would that be like? Key themes include: homosexuality, murder, adulthood and depravity.
2.) Warren Ellis’ “The Authority”
Plot is: Superheroes don’t just save the world, they rule it. Making sure that political parties and government don’t step out of line and fuck things up for the common man. Common themes include drug addiction, homosexuality and most importantly: politics
3.) Mark Millar’s “kick-ass”
Basically? A teenager decides he’s had enough and beats the shit out of people in a costume, the book is full of violence, sex and swear words.
4.) Garth Ennis’ “Preacher”
The “Word of God” is bestowed upon a disenfranchised ex priest, who befriends His ex girlfriend: a gun toting psychopath and an alcoholic Irish vampire, they decide to go and kill God. Why? Because God is a gloriously narcissistic fuck up, and along the way meet people who engage in homosexual sex, depravity of all kinds, drug abuse, alcoholism and lots of swearing and violence. A fucking great read.

There’s a sample of the last few books I read, and also some of my favourites, now do any of those books sound like something a child would enjoy?
No.

But I still get it when I browse libraries and ask for the graphic novel section, this disgusted look that says, “ a bit old aren’t you, you fucktard?” Or a point towards the direction of the children’s section and a bewildered grunt. Comics haven’t been for kids in a long time, and I really wish libraries, and in turn people would fucking realise that. If they weren’t so close-minded they would realise that comics are occasionally brilliant written, not just bits of paper with pretty pictures on them. Comics are my favourite pass time and I think they have improved my intellect, vocabulary, morals and general character since I started reading them. So although I occasionally mock myself and call myself a nerd, or poke fun at my dad and wind him up about introducing me into the sad life of a comic book fan, I couldn’t be more proud.

And after all, if it wasn’t a book, and a good one at that Watchmen wouldn’t have appeared on Time's 2005 "All-TIME 100 Greatest Novels” now would it? Twat.

Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Fruit

2010-03-23T21:37:00.001Z

You know what I don’t like anymore? Children.
At least if you could call them children, which you can’t because each new festering pustule of adolescence and cheap perfume I see is less and less human than the last meandering sack of pre-pubescent slime.
Children aren’t children anymore; I mean I remember back when I was a kid, when the winter was dangerous and the summer went on for millennia and everything smelt of pink lemonade and kitten farts, not today not now: now everything’s made of semolina and MKAT and the swings in the park have knives and heroin in them.
What happened to those great achievements of your childhood? Those days where you would ride your bike for miles and then, seemingly rather anticlimactically come all the way back, but at least it was an achievement, what do children achieve now? “LULZORZ 100 headshotz on COD!!! 1111” well done, have another slice of cake.
And they don’t seem to enjoy things anymore; the only thing they seem to enjoy is calling things “fake” and “gay”, “Hey Steve look at that pineapple, it’s totally gay.”
The classifications for being gay have apparently changed from inserting your cock up another mans arse, and have instead become:
a.) Being cumbersome or energy consuming
b.) Being different than normal
c.) Not being neon coloured
d.) Being tropical fruit
The problem with this of course is that mangoes are now, the most “gay” things in the entire universe as:
A.) They take ages to peel
B.) They taste like no other fruit.
C.) They are bright orange But not that poisonous level of orange that makes your iris bleed
D.) They are tropical fruit
And that’s going to cause a heck of a lot of problems for gay rights activists, “equal rights for men, women and mangoes”
Children behave far too much like adults I suppose is the main point of what im saying, they all drink coffee now, what happened to milkshakes? (Presumably labelled under “gay”) And I wouldn’t mind if they behaved like intellectual and positive members of adult society, but they don’t. Put enough small male troglodyte children in a room together and they will mock bum each other, its human nature. They clog up the pathways and eat all of my chocolate, either that or they all go out drinking antifreeze and impregnating each other, I don’t know what happened to Slinkys?
A slinky used to keep a child amused for hours, now when presented with them most children will attempt to smoke it/snort it or failing that have sex with it. If this fails, it becomes “lame” and is thrown in the tip.
Children don’t want jelly and ice cream anymore they want GBH and rohypnol in a JD sports bag covered in vomit.

Drip Drip Drop Little April Showers.

2010-03-16T20:52:00.000Z

You ever get that feeling that your completely and utterly insane?

I mean, not throwing crap across the walls calling everyone “Margaret” insane, just a little… I don’t know: disjointed? Like you’re the only person who does all the weird little things you do? Like if anyone saw what you got up to in private you’d be institutionalised? And here, again I don’t mean masturbating furiously over pictures of John Mccririck whilst dressed as a nineteenth century alchemist or anything weird like that, im simply saying that my behaviour when im alone is…peculiar.

So, I might as well get to the point right?
I have internal monologues: yeah like JD from Scrubs or any character from a cheesy American TV show “How I met the paedophile”, “ ten reasons why I love meat” or whatever particular thing American television favours these days . Now you’re going to stop me and say: “yeah we all have those at some point….” But that’s just it “at some point…” mine are pretty much constant, and not just disjointed little thoughts or words but full-blown monologues. And recently, as if that wasn’t weird enough I've started having external ones too.
Full-blown “high fidelity” style monologues, about anything and everything; its kind of therapeutic. Even this is being dictated at me from the conversation I had with the tape recorder earlier; Im having monologues about having monologues!
But I mean, surely it’s healthy to get things out in the open right? Talk about them freely rather than going over them in your head, and sure you’re usually meant to do that with someone else in the room but if no one is present then what can you do?
Thing is a lot of the stuff that’s been pouring out of my mind (and therefore my mouth) over the past days has been absolute tripe; poetic nonsensical bullshit which has little to no standing point in reality at all, Im just layering what im thinking with heaps of “subtext” and “deeper meaning” making the entire thing more complicated than it needs to be.

I mean, that’s all it ever is isn’t it? That all people ever do; overcomplicate simple things with deeper meaning and symbolism “maybe they meant it in this way and it was all innuendo for a deeper emotion” No! Bollocks! They just said it, no subtext, no deeper meaning, and no bullshit homespun poetry: just words!
It’s always the same, all those bloody songwriters who spend ages crafting delicate little metaphors about how her “eyes were as clear as azure blue skies” and “how many buttercups would I have to swallow to make me as sunshine full as you?” yes it sounds nice, and occasionally you find that song where its just been written; that’s generally how they feel, no real thinking involved its just the first thing they thought of when they thought of that person, and that’s beautiful but most of them spend ages looking for the best way to describe something which could be summed up much easier, and the result? Unconvincing shite.
Why can’t anyone just write, “I love you” anymore, instead of singing all this ham fisted crap about how a girl “plays with the chords of your lily patterned heart”
“Perhaps the autumn leaves could stand for the crushing guilt over the death of his former lover” Or perhaps he just thought that writing that preppy art school crap would sell him more albums?

Of course, the people who often most criticise stuff like this are the people who aren’t any good at it: Fat men sat in their easy chairs moaning on about how terrible a shot in a football match was, or the tone deaf music critics who failed their music career telling everyone that someone else’s isn’t worth buying into. So No, I probably couldn’t write something better, but im not attempting to; if I wanted to tell someone how pretty they were then I’d just tell them, no thinly veiled metaphors or neo-romantic poetry from me, just a simple statement.

Is that a bad thing?

And more to the point, Why are we even talking about this? And when I say we, I mean me… So why am I talking about this?
Because, its not like its resolving any issues at hand, I mean I've still got that whole problem I had before, and the conversation was started for that purpose, still…

So, Am I insane? Or am I just bored, because everyone else might be doing the same thing and I wouldn’t know, that’s the thing isn’t it? People are just too worried about their health these days, we get so caught up in the media that one little paper cut and you think “oh shit im going to get syphilis and turn into a pineapple” On the way home today I saw a kid, he must have been what? About thirteen maybe fourteen at a push He turned round red in the face and said, “for god sake, im stressed enough as it is” He’s a child! Children don’t get stressed; they either get run over or knifed they do not get stressed. And now im sat here panicking that people are going to think im crazy just because occasionally I think aloud, it gets to the point where I dread the question “what are you thinking “ because I think if I reveal that im making a list of “thirteen reasons why I don’t like wasps” people will think im insane and lock me up in an asylum with nothing but a pinecone and a weathervane made of candyfloss to keep me company, and ill end up spending the last days of my life having conversations consisting of the words “fruit” and “ladder” with a thirty six year old paranoid transvestite called Terry, all that from a couple of outbursts of paranoid rambling and one instance of public nudity.

I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have told you all

PUTTING LOCAL PEOPLE FIRST (providing they aren't gay, or opposed to totaliatrian racism)

2010-03-10T22:29:00.002Z

“BAN THE B.N.P” the protesters shouted, “STOP THESE FACISTS PREACHING AGAINST OUR DEMOCRACY!” the continued, not realising that a democracy meant freedom of speech. This was a commonplace thing for a British National Party rally.
Above is an excerpt from my new children’s book “Nick Griffin and the angry minotaur of belligerent racism” It should be out in the spring, make sure you check it out.
I did not intend to write another politics themed post as im sure (much like the comic-book ones) it kills of 90% of my dwindling audience, however I've never been a person that appeals to the majority, Bite me.
This whole thing has come about after the events that transpired yesterday afternoon around 4.30: I arrived home from a rehearsal for some drama related thing, only to find I had something in my post-box, “what could it be?” I pondered “ A takeout menu? Or perhaps a leaflet for car cleaning? Perhaps its Spam mail from virgin media! Telling me of how much I could save if I switched to their shit service!” But alas, no it was none of these things, it was something as far more exciting content; A leaflet/letter/propaganda piece/Hitler youth conscription form from everyone’s favourite hot potato: the British National Party.
The leaflet itself was a delightful monochrome outline of the various policies put forward by the local representative of the 3 ½ Reich: James Trueman, who’s picture was a cross between Woody from toy story and a small badly painted representation of Jack Frost in a suit, he informed me of how pleased he was to be the representative for the area and he told me that he was upset by the gradual state of decline that Colwyn bay has fallen prey too.
Now, I am in no way a supporter of the British National Party, I refuse to believe in any political party who’s methods consist of scapegoating the newest “in” minority for all of Britain’s problems, I mean look at their leader? Why are the white supremacists always the worst examples of the human race? Nick Griffin looks like an unhappy teabag. Which was left to close to a heat lamp and has dried up, leaving a mixture of sexual jealousy and hatred plastered across its face. However, this is exactly the kind of this that caused me to post my last “rant” (and ill use that world loosely, as a real rant would not be confined to such a short space.) Why can’t the other parties do this? Right in my hand is a simple A4 piece of paper (badly formatted and a little bit too “friendly” for my liking but…) which details what the BNP wants, what they intend to change and a short paragraph from the representative for the Colwyn Bay area: Why the fuck aren’t the Tories doing this?
I mean, how hard is it? Just simply putting “ Hi guys, we are labour and we love cats and pineapples” or whatever shit bandwagon labours on at the moment on a bit of paper and distributing it around so that the voters old and new know exactly what is going on with the party in their area. No instead they’d rather just sit around claiming that all young voters are “apathetic” and “uninterested” It’s bollocks, If my vote was based around which party had done the most for me, at the current moment in time (If it weren’t for the atrocious attitudes towards people of other cultures, gay people, etc.)
My vote would be going to the British National Party.
A simple outline of policies is all were asking for! Interestingly enough the policies outlined in the aforementioned leaflet were an interesting mix of totalitarianism and nostalgia. Never before have I seen a sheet which lists policies such as “Get rid of those fucking immigrants! All they do is take our jobs and rape our beloved pets!” and “get rid of those plant pots outside the Bay View centre, they are unsightly and pointless” in the same paragraph, “get those bloody police out from behind their desks, and onto the streets needlessly beating gay people for public displays of affection” and “replace the concrete lamp posts with cast iron ones, reflecting the Victorian nature of the street”
But back to my point, before my rant against the BNP is located and I am crucified for going against their views, or im called gay solely for supporting gay rights….
If the political parties around the area released similar leaflets there would be a greater uptake of new voters around the time of the general election; they aren’t winning any votes by putting up posters simply saying “Vote Gutto Bebb” or “Isn’t David Cameron Great?”
Hah, That’s two politics posts now.

Voter apathy?

Bullshit.

Jam

Voter apathy? I rub my dick in your insolence!

2010-03-04T21:33:00.000Z

So, you should all be afraid. Because in time for the next general election, I will turn eighteen, and am already registered to vote.
Which brings me to the point of this post;
Last night I watched “first time voters question time” a cheap and cheerful variation on the well established format of a similar name, the only change was that (as the title suggests) it was for first time voters; young people, hooligans, chavs, emos, gen x, you get the idea. In order to make this more “Mickey mouse club” and less “Nuremberg trials” they replaced the usual host: David “if my face was anymore disinterested I would be a mollusc” Dimbleby with Dermot “cannot read off an auto-cue for shit” O’Leary.
Other panel members included numerous slimy “try and please everyone whilst continuously treading back on my own ideals” politicians and Jamelia….
No, you didn’t read it wrong:
JAMELIA.
Now, within the first half hour of this show Jamelia admitted that she:
1.) Didn’t know who the leader of the Lib Dem’s was
2.) Had never voted
3.) Believed Thatcher stood for the working class
4.) Was working class, despite being a celebrity
5.) Was an “average girl on the street” despite the above.

Despite this ridiculous attempt to show how “cool” politics was on the part of the BBC, the show was highly informative and did answer a lot of questions I had about the general elections in terms of policy and structure.
However, one comment really stuck with me;
Higher Education Minister David “Down with the kids” Lammy accused there of being a high level of “voter apathy” within young people. That we were unwilling to do anything about politics within the country.

BULL
SHIT

There are thousands if not millions of people actively engaged in political discussion and action, the whole idea of the “young culture” not being involved in the countries future is absolute crap, there are numerous things arranged by young people all about the future of our country.
Yeah there are a lot of young people that probably wont vote, but that isn’t because they are “lazy”
It isn’t their fault; it’s the fault of politicians who are not bothered to be active to the younger generation.
Politics has and presumably always will be the same thing; men, boring men in suits wittering on about things unconnected to our generation.
If politicians cut the crap and set out what they wanted to do, instead of beating around the bush and making promises they can’t keep the new generation would become more interested. People aren’t interested because the way politics is presented at the current moment in time isn’t interesting, its dull, lacklustre and not connected to the issues facing the youth of today. Politics isn’t about “what can we do for you?” anymore; it’s more about “what can we get from you?”
So you probably are all wondering whom I’m voting for this year (or you aren’t, I don’t care im still going to tell you.)
And the short answer is; anyone but Lib Dem, Tory or Labour.
Now, the obvious problem I’m facing when deciding who to vote for is the sheer statistics against me, nobody I vote for will get into power, because im not voting for one of the “big three” but that shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t be bullied into voting for one of three parties solely because they are the most popular, because everyone else likes them, in the same way that I refuse to be friends with someone solely because everyone else is; we shouldn’t feel forced into voting for a party just because we are made to feel pointless if we don’t
“oh there’s no point voting for them, they’ll never get in”
This isn’t some primary school names in the hat system, its not a case of voting for the one most likely to win, because it isn’t a betting system either , if people are only voting for the most likely solely to say they had a part in it, then they are voting for the wrong reason.
So, why am I not voting for one of the big three?
Because I’m ashamed of them. Im ashamed of the three groups of people willing to cheat the public they are meant to represent out of money just because they can. Yes, the other parties have claimed expenses too im sure, but the main offenders are part of the big three.
What happened to politicians in politics for the benefit of the country? When were they replaced by slimy greedy and pestilential individuals only concerned with individual gain?
“Oh, we need a second house for when we go down to London”
Tripe, pure tripe.
Tell you what we do, we build a bloody big travel lodge, simple basic rooms; bed, TV, Bathroom, noose, rent boy etc. and when they are down in London they stay there, free of charge but served meals that are all inclusive, nothing fancy just enough. They want something else; THEY pay for it from their money.
My parents have worked every day since they turned eighteen, and the money they’ve earned they’ve earned through working, not through stealing it from others pockets, claiming petty things like 79p for some pickles, or a house for my duck, a pineapple factory or whatever bullshit they were peddling in the house of lords.
I won’t vote for a party that was set up for “the working man” and yet is now filled with the same scoffing public school boys that bolster up the ranks of the Tories, they were all about the working man, until they realised they could jump on the gravy train and ride it all the way to the bank. “Stuff the working man, what’s in it for ME?” Labour don’t stand for what they say they do.
The Tories and Labour have become less and less opposing forces and more and more like carbon copies of one another, sure they have opposite opinions in some areas yeah, but a bit of flux is expected, but if the Tories get in, it’ll be no different than replacing the red banner with a blue one.
We aren’t voting for a person, were voting for a set of ideas. And that’s not how its put across anymore; “David Cameron wants this”, “David Cameron <3’s that”, “David Cameron once at a whole tangerine”, “David Cameron can unicycle blindfolded”, “David Cameron is the living embodiment of smugness”, “David Cameron decapitated my chaffinch! - Shocking pictures inside!” we are no longer voting for ideals, were voting for “Britain’s got Smarmy Gits” or the “politics factor” and that isn’t how it should be, The party leaders don’t have the charisma to carry off the Obama style advertisement, they all look like they’ve been stuck under a large sweaty woman’s armpit fold for seventeen years whilst listening to Damien Rice’s album over and over and having fire ants crawl up their urethra; sullen grey faces in a sullen grey boring world. Not the thing of miracles.
So when I tick my ballot box, I will do it with dismay, I will do it with a sense of duty, a sense of pride
But I certainly wont do it with a sense of fucking apathy.

Jam.

Ever just have one of those days?

2010-03-03T20:54:00.001Z

Where you don’t feel good?
I get them quite frequently, and its odd because I should be in a good mood.
So anyways, in honour of my bad mood im posting something, something not a lot of people have read/heard.
Yeah, I’m posting a poem.
Nothing special this one, but it has a lot of standing for me at least.
This whole thing below came about a few weeks ago when I was feeling a bit down, but I’ll let it explain itself. I hope you enjoy and I’ll see you at the other end:

Hand writing (typed.)
“You should be a doctor”
Said the teacher
Gripping paper
“Made a fortune with writing like that”
I chuckle like I hadn’t heard it before
As not to offend…
This condescending prat
Its people like him, who forced me to grin
As they ridicule my scribbles on A4 sheets
So before I start writing, I’ll admit defeat
Yes: My handwritings messy
17 years, 17 years of burning hot ears
From both teachers and peers
Like witches they cackle whispering sneers
“It’s so hard to read, what a waste of a pen”
Like criticism would make things better back then
I mean I might just be mad,
But isn’t it bad, to make someone sad.
Just because the inks a bit scruffy?
Picture this: Forced front of class
Ridiculed and asked
Why your writings so hard to read
To be singled out, listen to them shout.
Like the abuse was something they thought id need.
Hey I know this’ll spur him on, lets point out all the mistakes
Let’s mock where he’s wrong
“What’s the matter James?
Don’t you have the brains to keep the letters the same height?
Keep those words all short neat and tight?”
Yes, it needed changing, but was it handled right?
Was it fair, all those years back when?
They gave me a pencil instead of a pen?
Everyone else used ink and im stuck with lead
Because criticisms the way to get it into his head.
Not good enough for Berol, Parker or Biro
Stuck with a pencil to engrave my Hyro-
Glyphics, for homework’s
Left me a person that shirks long essays
Wastes nights upon days
Putting off writing because..
In all honesty
What’s the point?
What’s the point of writing?
When the teachers spend the time criticising
Highlighting, my errors
Because the letter F is too short
And all that Money I spent, all those books that I bought
Did nothing to improve my “joined up writing”
Pens with special grips to make the words look exciting
English lessons were so uninviting.
I wasn’t dyslexic; just I couldn’t hold the pen
Which meant I didn’t get the special treatment I needed way back then
My parents helped me out; hour after hour we’d spend each night
Standing over my shoulders and sat and watched me write
The same bloody sentences about a lazy dog and foxes
Following dotted pointers, putting alphabets in boxes.
They tried the best to help me, and It improved a bit
But the teachers still weren’t happy, cos my handwriting was shit
Imagine it, Do you suppose its fair?
To have essays compared to
“A lazy spider crawling”
“Lazy bumblebee stalling”
Inky feet catching paper?
Scrawling words to come back later.
When I think back, to the past I mean
I’ve always had a problem with low self esteem
And maybe it span back to then
Writing the same letters out again.
Because their shape wasn’t quite right
And I couldn’t keep the H’s at the correct height
Because, my work was never up to scratch
Perhaps im too lazy, I could try a little more
But I can type it, don’t have to write it
So there’s the big flaw
Who cares if it’s a little disjointed?
It was only made worse when it was continually pointed out
No matter how much you scream and shout
Miracles don’t happen over night
And now I type the work I’d write.
It gets praise, im amazed.
How could it be good?
The presentation sucks so the content should?
Who cares what it looks like if the messages put across?
If what you’re writing has a meaning, so what if you forget to cross the T’s?
Or dot the I’s?
Who cares the writings scruffy if there’s beauty deep inside?
I hate writing, just picking up that pen really gets my goat
Too write, letter and essays, a thank you note
Christmas cards and applications
Letters block capital and in close formation
It’s not for me…
But this? This verse? This poetry?
Writing 10 little stanzas helps set me free.
I put a bit of my soul in all my work, No matter what the content
No mater how inane it is or how the words are bent
It means something to write it all down.
Like the song to a band or the joke to a clown
This is my freedom, my escape, my way out
But there’s still those people try to fill me with doubt
How can you learn it if it’s that hard to read?
“There’s no use trying to rhyme it, deciphering what it needs”
I get tired,
I get sick
Of being made to feel like Shit
Told my works no good because it’s a bit untidy
The content isn’t read, just thrown away so blindly
So I take it up, I perform because to be said is to be heard
So now when it comes to poetry I prefer the spoken word
You just sit there with a title, a rhyme a line a word
And you make such flowing poetry, no matter how absurd
To me it always means something, its how I lose my stress
And as long as I can read it, who cares if it’s a mess?
If it’s written you can read it, you can shout your words aloud
Give meaning to the letters and make your parents proud.
Try your best, don’t give up.
But don’t worry bout the ink
Who cares about the letters if the content makes you think?
Im not saying to be lazy, and scrawl the words instead
What im saying is it shouldn’t matter if it sounds good when it’s read?
If its presentable then it’s brilliant, if its not just type it out.
Don’t let what teacher told you replace imagination with doubt.
What you’re writing out is brilliant; it’s from your heart to the pen
And it can mean so much more than tracing over words again and again
Life’s too short to listen to those condescending sneers
Just type your beauty out on word then recite it to your peers.
So now when they say “you should be a doctor”
I don’t stress out deep inside
I take the keyboard, type some verse
Then tell it to you guys.

Cheers, Jam.

Kick Ass Comic Book Moments #3

2010-02-27T21:12:00.003Z

Okay, so yet another post about things my readers presumably won’t care about, but heh, who gives a damn?
So, staying with the MARVEL comics theme from the last instillation today we are looking at the spectacular events of the Avenger’s storyline titled “disassembled.” This story is infamous as to breaking up marvels biggest superhero team in a series of shocking events and heartbreaking (for nerds at least,) deaths.
The Avengers go back years, way back to the sixties in fact and are commonly referred to as “earths mightiest heroes” the teams roster has changed over and over throughout the years including various members including Iron-man, Captain America, the X-men’s Beast and some of my favourite superheroes including; Ant-man, Jack Of Hearts, Hawkeye and Vision. In my mind at least this story is also infamous for basically killing off nearly all of my favourite Avengers.

The story begins in the usual routine way, the then current roster is sat around discussing menial things (I believe it is “which super villain would you sleep with”) when all of a sudden Jack of Hearts, a character who had exiled himself into space due to his lethal levels of radiation reportedly returns, Ant man rushes outside to see his old friend only to hear the words “I’m sorry” be uttered from Jacks mouth just as Jack explodes killing off the two of them (and more importantly two of my favourites…) These horrible events are made worse when Iron-man stands up drunk at a public conference, now this doesn’t made much sense to non comic book fans but Iron-man is a self confessed ex alcoholic and hasn’t touched a drink since the eighties
Iron-man swears however that he has not touched a drop.
The avengers scramble to the mansion after Jack and Ant-mans death and step outside to discuss what to do next, just as a large shuttle is seen hurtling towards their mansion, the shuttle crashes and who emerges; The Vision.
The Vision is an android who has been in the Avengers for some time, he can control his own density, fly, shoot eye beams and is generally an all round badass (even if his costume is a bit dated.) So Vision turns up, and announces that he can no longer control his body, what he then proceeds to do is awful (No, he does not shit himself.)
He releases four little capsules (okay so maybe he does KINDA shit himself) and then dissolves.
Those four little “capsules” then shape shift into something far worse than a rancid smelling bowel movement
The turn into five “Ultrons” Ultron is a robot created by Hank Pym, which became sentient created the Vision and spent all of his life trying to destroy the Avengers. Now the avengers have enough trouble defeating one Ultron, so five of them prove kind of difficult, but nevertheless the Avengers persevere and defeat them, and then they go back to relaxing

Oh no wait, She-hulk goes absolutely fucking mental.

The Hulks always been the savage one whereas she hulk has always been intellectual and reserve but she goes absolutely mental and attacks the Wasp. All of these events are broadcast on the television (as well as a few other things like the U.N. disconnecting their ties to the team) and so the team is at an all time low, Captain American and Iron-man turn up, as they are informed that there are some people here to see them, this is the moment
The kick ass moment that is a great example of how big a team the Avengers are and how strong the ties made between members are:

That’s right nearly every previous and reserve member is waiting on the doorstep all unanimously thinking “all right, who’s ass do we have to kick to get some answers.”
And this is a brilliant example of how the Avengers work; unlike the Fantastic Four or the Defenders (to an extent) the Avengers has had a range of members, but even when they aren’t on the team they are still tied to the mythos and are ready to pitch in, its like one of those moments in your life where you realise how much your friends care about you, this moment is a great example of how the marvel universe treats its Avengers, they have friends; super friends.

Kick Ass Comic Book Moments Part 2

2010-02-22T20:50:00.004Z

I'm well aware that there are certain people following this particular blog who do not wish to see another update about comic books (And I'm looking to you "My Lamentations") however, in order for me to function as a nerd I sometimes have to have a total nerdgasm about fictional characters printed on newspaper, other wise I explode into a fury of nerdy rage and have the temperament of a badly raised bull-dog when it sees a small chav’s sprog.
So today’s installation (and yes, im using that term in the sense of artwork, aren’t I fancy?!) Comes from possibly my favourite comic book battle between 2 singular characters (Hero vs. Villain rather than a team against another.)
Today’s Post is about Iron man #200: a glorious battle between Iron-Man wearing the fan favourite “silver centurion” armour which differs from that usually seen in the comics/cartoons/films most notably for its silver and red colour scheme rather than the usual red/gold.
In this Issue Tony Starks long time business partner/rival, who has basically been ass fucking Tony and screwing with his head for a few months decides to don his ultra cool and yet ridiculously bulky armour he built using the blueprints for an old Iron Man armour in order to fight Iron Man and hopefully defeat him. The Armour itself is called the “iron monger” which sounds like a cool title but its real definition isn’t;
Ironmonger “refers to a retailer (or wholesaler) of iron goods”
Picture that “Fear me iron man, for I will sell you scrap metal at discout prices!”
But any way the armour itself is pretty kickass:

So As usual a big air fight ensues with various “repulsor blasts” being exchanged between the two foes, realising that he needs a certain edge in order to beat Iron-Man, Stane decides he’s going to go all out and generally be a total arsehole and threaten a little baby:

Naturally Iron Man goes ahead with his request and de-masks, Stane cannot believe what is going on. Tony Stark IS Iron-Man, I mean talk a bout a total kick in the nuts!
Tony is now royally pissed and proceeds to kick seven shades of shit out of Stane, knocking him into a large pile of rubble and destroying countless buildings (presumably killing thousands, but Stark’s paying me enough to keep me hush about that…) There Stane lies totally and utterly defeated, but instead of surrendering and going to prison to be Kang the Conquers bitch, he decides to take an easier way out:

Damn right, he shoots himself in the head, with a fucking repulsor blast. These things can shatter tanks, and he just points it at his head and BLAM! no more Mister Stane! How totally awesome is that? Thats a villian for you, rather than allow the hero to gloat in the glory of how awesome he is and how many innocent lives he has saved, he leaves our hero with that death on his conscience. He won't bow out and be somones bitch in prison, he decides to take the truly evil way out; Tony may have saved all those lives, but there is one he couldnt.

Now, I could leave this post at that, but no. Iron-Man #200 is one of my favorite comics for the last panel. On facing Stanes death and destroying several buildings, Tony proceeds to walk out into the burning rubble and out of the smoke, only to be confronted by the buildings security guard who asks "What Happened?" Iron-Man looks at him with Grim eyes and simply says

"Somebody Lost"

Bad

Ass.

On a totally unrelated note, I figured you readers would like to check out a lovely little blog from everyone’s favourite genius George Coombs:
http://themmmm.blogspot.com/

Cheers dears.
James.

“My Day” or “Memoirs of a 21st Century misanthrope.”

2010-02-20T19:46:00.001Z

I woke up early today, at 11.15. In all honesty I could have slept in for an extra hour or two, as today I have achieve nothing.
And, like most days it started incredibly well; over my morning cup of tea and stale, lukewarm toast, I mean we all have such ambition first thing after we wake up don’t we? Oh the myriad of things we could achieve with just a pineapple and a ladle. We could write such beautiful music and put on such extravagant dances first thing in the morning, from the moment you wake up eyes blinking in the fluorescent artificial glow of the dim energy saving light bulb you realise that there is a plethora of possibilities before you, and what do you do? Fuck all.
And it isn’t your fault, not really because its just human nature. And if it isn’t human nature then its certainly good old British temperament, we hate success! Our crowning moments of glory are when someone else fucks it up aren’t they? From the giggles that come when someone trips and tries to make it look like they intended it to the apathetic “waheeeey!” those vexatious and vapid dullards emit whenever someone has the poor unfortunate luck to drop something in a café. We don’t like achievement, and we celebrate every single act of failure on a regular basis.
And that’s what most people think when they weigh up their achievements “Oh not much, but hey, at least I didn’t push a door which was intended to be pulled!” Is that the best we can hope for? To bumble along haphazardly hoping to ensure all of the rules and stigmas of society stay on their pedestals? To skate gingerly on the edge of humiliation hoping that if you ever fall over that nobody sees it?
It’s a sad state of affairs that every morning when you think “oh the things I could do today, I could write a sonnet for each day of the week, stage a play of such complexity and beauty that it makes un-wed virgins weep with remorseful sorrow I could invent names for every star in the sky, I could stretch and reach for glory in whatever particular field of sporting I am good at.” And then you lie there, think about it for a moment and go “But I wont.”
We should be hoping for more than this! We should be out their romancing a potential love; we should be taking in the joys of whatever portion of nature isn’t being destroyed this week. But we don’t, we wake up in the morning and we think, “The most I can achieve today is probably masturbating in the shower.”

Oh, and FYI?I Didn’t.

Kick Ass Comic Book Moments Part 1.

2010-02-18T22:26:00.003Z

So, In case you hadn’t already guessed from my links, im a BIIIIG comic book fan. So this little section is sorta for any moment in a comic book which has made me "F**K YEAH!" those little moments of win in comic books which are awesome (yeah shush, im sad :p) So, You may also know or not know that my favourite superhero is Green Lantern and so the first post should therefore be about him right? DAMN RIGHT!

SO this moment stems back to a real old issue of Green Lantern which is somewhat of legend amongst Comic -Book fans, Back when Guy Gardner was the GL (he's the ginger one if you didn't know :p) to sum up Guy basically challenges batman to a bare knuckle fistfight in the middle of the argument. Now if there’s one thing EVERYONE in the DC universe should know (aside from of course that Mogo doesn’t socialise.) it's that you do not fuck with Batman. He is Batman. No matter who the fight is against Batman wins. So Guy's challenge basically results in this happening:

Yeah, Batman punches Guy right in the face, KO'ing him in one punch and lowering any credibility he had in the league as a fighter or a badass to zero. This whole "One punch!" thing carried on for a few years and it is always seen as one of Guy's big moments.

Cut to a few years later when there are rumblings of a great heroes return, the return of the "greatest Green Lantern" Hal Jordan (and coincidentally, my favourite..) Basically without spoiling the plot Hal is resurrected and brought back as a Green Lantern after a few years of being a wandering spirit.
Batman shows up.
Batman is Pissed.
Batman, does not like the fact that Jordan is back.
Jordan sees this, and decides he wont tolerate Batman’s crap.
Remember before when i said that Batman always wins?
Take That Bruce Wayne :D One Punch!

Jam.

Reasons why I hate my Local Library #2.

2010-02-17T21:47:00.000Z

2.) Attitude –
I understand that it’s probably not at the top of everyone’s list to work as a librarian and occasionally you can get some real tough patrons. I also understand that the job itself isn’t easy and I probably couldn’t do it. What I don’t understand however is the general attitude put forward by the people behind the desk.
Case in point: A few years ago, way back when I had to check out a couple of books (as you do in libraries…unless of course you visit them for free internet.) The woman behind the counter seemed to insist on making the whole ordeal out to be way more than what it was. I couldn’t find the book I was looking for and simply went over to see if they had it (As I had been told by a friend that the most defiantly would.) What ensued must have been the worst example of “customer service” I have ever seen. I waited until the little old lady behind the counter had finished filling in the crossword placed before her and quietly asked, “Excuse me, im looking for….” She looked up her eyes showing a mixture of disgust and bitter resent as if I had just unzipped my jeans and placed my cock in her coffee and spat out “ I don’t know.” Now, I didn’t assume that she would know every book that the library had and their whereabouts, I was simply enquiring as to whether she could check the database, which was located on the computer not three inches from her cold clammy skeletal hands. So again I decided to enter into this dangerous foray and politely ask “Is there any way to check” again she huffed and moved toward the computer as if it had to be wound by hand to turn it on and angrily hammered in the title of the book slammed the mouse round and hit enter. As predicted the book came up instantly, it was there and thanks to the beauty of the Dewey Decimal System was now much easier to locate than previously. Now, at the time of booking out the aforementioned novel I didn’t have a Library card and so had to sign up and get one, a simple process that takes nothing more than few clicks on the mouse and the entering of some details, unless of course you go to my local library. She once again looked at me her eyes piercing into my convex lenses and said “Have you not got a card?” her mouth barely containing the dentures within and definitely not containing the spittle produced and projected onto my shirt. I told her that I had not had a library card for a few years and was not sure if I could renew my old one or just create a new one. Without even acknowledging my apology and request she huffed once more and turned to the computer, click, click clickety-click each one with greater force “name” she half-heartedly enquired. After five tedious minutes of answering this horn-rimmed spectacle troglodyte’s apathetic questions I was finally allowed safe passage into the wondrous world and privilege of having a library card, she then snatched the book out of my hand like a wrinkly panther protecting her cub and slammed the stamp on the front page, slamming the stamp with sufficient force to cave in someone skull she then threw the aforementioned text at me and said “here, back in two weeks” then back to her crossword as if the whole 15 minute ordeal had been giving birth to a fucking mammoth and she was exhausted by the physical requirement of typing a few bloody letters into a box. Next time someone asks me why I don’t ever do anything ill reply: “oh, well I couldn’t possibly do anything else, you see I spend my days on facebook and MSN, making me possibly the most physically stressed person on the planet. Now piss off, I have crosswords and sudoku to do.”

Jam.

Three reasons i hate my local library # 1

2010-02-16T23:28:00.001Z

Okay. So I hate my local Library, not Libraries in general just the ones I’ve encountered during my short stint on the planet. As stated in the title there are three main reasons for this:

1.) Their sense of God appointed authority-
You see, this is a common thing with anyone raised to a level of power above us “common folk” the old quote goes “Power corrupts, and ultimate power corrupts ultimately.” And librarians in my town seem to think they have “ultimate power” from that stereo typical “Ssssshhh!” (Which is often louder than whatever noise has caused this frankly nail bitingly ear-piercing utterance.) To the way they strut around, casting a snide and unforgiving glare at anyone who even so much as removes a book from the shelf.
Its like they don’t want them to be borrowed!
I understand that people theft is a key concern within any business, But stealing from a Library??? I don’t think so, or at least I hope that no one would. When I go into a shop I do not expect to be followed around and harassed, as if im going to steal something. And I certainly do not expect it in a place where the key selling point is to browse: the main idea of a library is that you wander around and look through a couple of titles you find interesting and hopefully find something you haven’t read and book it out. Hardly anyone goes into a library finds and rushes over to the bookcases picks a book without even reading the blurb or preface and slams it on the counter a look of grim determination and lust in their eyes and says “THIS ONE! I MUST HAVE IT NOW! IMMEDIACY AND URGENCY IS OF THE UPMOST IMPORTANCE, HURRY NOW NO TIME FOR DELAY I DON’T EVEN GIVE A SHIT OUT THE CONTENT I JUST MUST HAVE THIS BOOK NOW!” And so when I go into a library (Which is never due to reasons why I hate my local library #2) and when I have done in the past, I do not expect to be stared at and be followed around the room by the eyes of every member of staff, I hardly look like im likely to go axe happy and murder thirty octogenarians, nor do I look like the kind of person who is likely to steal anything (At least I hope not…) The kind of behaviour I have encountered in terms of being stared at is enough to put someone off going somewhere. If you went to a friends house and all they did was follow you around and stare at you you would either be (depending on how close you were to them) Aroused or Uncomfortable right?
And that’s one of the reasons I hate my local library, I don’t feel comfortable walking around and looking through the (notably awful) selection of books they have on offer.

Well, here goes nothing.........

2010-02-16T22:12:00.002Z

I’ve always stayed away from blogs. Not out of fear or cowardice mind; I dealt with my fears of Internet messaging long in the past. I’ve stayed away from blogs mainly because I don’t think I have anything interesting to put in them, nothings changed recently but I figured that one day I might have some sudden flash of brilliance and suddenly become witty/good at art/ a world class paintballer and would like somewhere to write about my exploits, if that day ever arises then here we are: one fresh and unspoilt (at least as of yet) platform for me to leave my mark. But until then there will be lots and lots of pointless, banal and vapid shit. Look forward to posts about comic books, (yeah, because THAT’S what you want to read.) music and whatever’s pissed me off at that point in time.

Oh what’s that? You’d rather not waste your time here?

Please come back………….

We have cake………