Well, I’ve got over my sinus do this time, but other things are going wrong.
I am definitely slowing down (up) and my leg will not get better.
I’m supposed to be looking at a place on Wednesday, a flat upstairs in my home town and the landlord accepts pets and doesn’t insist on a large deposit before he gets someone to you round to look, so I’m seeing if it’s all right for me to have a remove to.
I will miss this place (if the other place is all right I am going for it,) but well, getting up and downstairs is getting a real chore, plus I am tired most of the time.
Those at work are very, very understanding, but it isn’t fair me holding everyone back when I just can’t get up the energy to do things. After all, manually shifting things is my job, what I get paid for.
I don’t know, I never thought I’d miss my last desk job, working for a government company, sitting down answering the phone, searching the Internet for things. AND I did manage to get some daylight. At the moment, I’m only just seeing real daylight, as opposed to vitamin-less artificial lighting.
I’m going to make a few enquiries about changing things for the future and seeing how it may ultimately alter things for me, hopefully for the best.
More soon (probably).
A FEW ALTERATIONS
BLOODY, STINKING, ROTTEN, LOUSY BODY
My bloody sinuses are off again and my leg is aching so much I can hardly drag myself upstairs for the toilet.
I hate my body for not working properly.
I hate human beings who pretend to be ill and get out of doing things and then walk away when they’re fed up.
I hate human beings who get poorly, vomiting, bad colds, and carry on, or shrug it off and it doesn’t debilitate them.
I hate this society which has no room for the triers, those who do their best and stumble and try again, those who don’t fit into the profoundly disabled nor the perfectly well. Those who work but can’t manage full time, nor are ill enough to give up work all together and survive on benefits.
I hate this society who doesn’t provide temporary assistance for those who need it and, who, like me, have no one to rely on. Once Social Services are on your case, they are up your arse all the time whether you need it or not, and the only person I have got to rely on (my Mother) is off on her holidays again.
I wish I didn’t have to drag myself from day to day, trying, trying, trying, forcing myself, when all I want to do is lie down.
I wish I could shrug off this worn out, demmick machine of a body of mine and step into a new healthy one, like the reincarnationist believe, only without having to shut everything down to start with.
I’m off to rest now,( like that’ll do anything) and I’ll be back when I’m back.
Oh yeah.
All the bloody best, eh?
TORTURE?
I’ve been thinking about torture and how some of our leaders reckon that it can be appilcable in some cases.
The most famous one I’ve come across is the one that says someone has planted an atom bomb somewhere in London and the only way to discover where it is before it ignites is to apply torture to a member of the terrorist gang responsible.
Now, planting an atom bomb in a large city would not be that difficult. They aren’t that big. I went to London a bit back and in the Imperial War Museum they have a copy of the bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. I measured my length alongside it, and it isn’t that much bigger than me (I’m five foot). Unlike their copy of the V2 rocket, which was upright and was so big I found it vaguely intimidating. And the bomb part itself, the bit that has to be primed to set off the reaction and ignite the explosion is even smaller. Not much bigger than a pair of human hands. It is possible to hide an atomic bomb, even a primitive end of Second Great War one, in a lorry and smuggle it in and plant it somewhere hidden.
But surely, if the only way to discover it’s position is to torture someone responsible for it’s being there, then the Security Services have failed on so many levels.
SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : ‘IF I HAD A TALKING PICTURE OF YOU’
This weekend’s song to end the weekend on was discovered by my Mother, as she explored the Net (for someone in her seventies, she is pretty Net savvy, can avoid all the dangers, and knows not to click on things that flash at her. When I carefully reminded her to beware she gave me that look that only a mother can and said;
“I am too old to start clicking on things that flash at me.”)
Anyhow, it was a song to end the weekend on on my previous blog (which no longer exists, in case you’ve forgotten) but it’s such a silly, funny, catchy song that I have made it my song for this weekend.
It’s in the form of an entertaining short video and song, and it’s ‘If I Had A Talking Picture of You’, from back in the year 1929, when talkies became vogue, and I defy you to listen to it, only once, without wanting to replay it, and to not want to sing it, out loud or to yourself, at some time during the coming week.
Enjoy, and. . .
Have the best week possible, no matter what it throws up* at you.
*Throws up in this case can mean ‘to vomit’ or ‘to get in the way’.
COLUMBO SERIES FIVE
As I said yesterday, in honour of the launching of Columbo series five on DVD tomorrow, here’s a list of those episodes available, plus a little about each episode.
Forgotten Lady : Once Hollywood sweetheart is past her best, but has managed to hook a promise from her older husband for a lavish nineteen Twenties type musical production with her in the starring role, something she openly brags to everyone she meets. When things don’t turn out as she planned, she sets about getting the money by inheriting it, and to that she has to kill her husband. An almost perfect murder leads to Columbo on the case, and the scene to watch out for, a surprise denouement where the Lieutenant shows a compassionate side to his usually unswerving businesslike professional hunting down of killers.
A Case of Immunity : When a new king comes to the throne, the first secretary of a Middle Eastern nation is distressed as inside of holding to past traditions, His Majesty wants to embrace more progressive Western ways. On a trip to LA, he sets about ending the young king’s reign for ever and instead kills another member of the court and attempts to frame a group of young students. Columbo discovers the truth and then the first secretary tries to claim diplomatic immunity. The Lieutenant and the young Monarch turn the tales on this claim in an ingenious way, and the scene to watch for is towards the end when the beleaguered secretary has to choose life in LA or, if he turns his back on the immunity, has to go home to the kingdom where the popular and well-loved young king’s guard will see to it that he is given the ultimate form of justice, slowly and painfully.
Identity Crisis : The Lieutenant enters the world of international espionage when a murder on the beach turns out to be more than a mugging. There is a rogue spy on the loose and the good guys have been after him for two years, and it’s up to Columbo to tie up loose ends and see to it that no one else dies on the road. Scene to watch out for; when the director of the spy organisation warns the Lieutenant off in a child’s fun house in a fun park, while his men keep the children out.
A Matter of Honor : A car accident over the Mexican border causes the Lieutenant small physical but large insurance problems, and he is stuck in Mexico for the weekend till all is sorted out. Fortunately, the young, good looking local police inspector, a solid church going family man, is willing to take him in, after all, the police should stick together. During this time, the inspector is called to an accident on a local ranch, where bulls are raised for fighting in the ring, an age-old Spanish tradition that Columbo doesn’t approve of. It turns out that a prize bull has gored the hot-headed young son of the head ranch hand and the ranch-hand goes in to fight the bull and kill it in revenge. However, things are not as they seem and with the local inspector hamstrung by politics, Columbo is forced to face the most famous man in Mexico (like arresting the Pope) on a charge not only of murder but, in the eyes of the proud Mexicans, of a loss of honour. Watch out for the scene where the mescala swigging eccentric ranch hand hands the thirsty Columbo a drink of the potent brew then laughs when he chokes on it.
Now You See Him : The Cabaret of Magic has a star turn, but only the owner of the Cabaret knows the truth, that the illustrious magician has a less than honoured past as a guard in the concentrate camps. After months of enduring blackmail, the magician uses his skills to kill the blackmailer. Enter Columbo and another, irregular character, Sergeant Wilson, and the scenes to watch out for include the Lieutenant, Sergeant Wilson and the use of a modern typewriter, in which Wilson almost faints with delight at the Lieutenant’s genuine compliment at his handling of the typewriter.
Last Salute to the Commodore : The shipowner known as the Commodore is sick of being surrounded by family members and hangers on, all of who are not only after his money but who are not even seafarers, just waiting for him to die so that they can fall upon and split up the boatyard and destroy all he built. At an anniversary party, the proud old naval man announces his attention to see to it that none of his relatives get hold of the yard, instead he will sell it and take the money and go on a final journey to sea. This is one of the few episodes that deviate from the norm, and instead of showing the murder and the murderer before the Lieutenant arrives, and leaving it for the Lieutenant to make sense of what happened, the murder is hidden and it follows the usual mystery movie formula, where the Lieutenant and his two sidekicks (one of who, out of admiration, adopts the nickname ‘Mac’ because his hero wears, of a course, a Mac) pull together clues and there is the traditional gathering of the suspects in the room where the killer is fingered. The scene to watch out for is where the boatyard manager, the one person the Commodore trusts, gives the Lieutenant a guided tour around the boatyard, along with an attempt to ‘do TM’ along with a young lady, and a scene where a noisy piece of equipment makes communication hard between a workman, working on a boat, and the Lieutenant, on the ground.
So, there you are. Columbo, series five. And it’s almost ten to seven now and if all goes well, this time tomorrow I will have purchased my own copy and be ready to watch it. And watch it and watch it, til the grooves wear down to nothing and the laser has nothing to read.
AND STILL THEY COME
I’m part way through writing an article for my (now defunct) other place on the Net.
It’s a killer bio all about Edmund Emile Kemper III, the co ed killer.
I’ve not actually put it out for everyone to read yet, as it’s not finished and I’ve found that writing non-fiction is, (for me) a lot harder than writing fiction, with all the research and checking facts and things you have to do.
I do prefer, vastly, to read non-fiction, and that’s why I tip my hat to those who compliment by days by composing and producing works of history and science and true crime.
I could never do it myself, not without a lot of effort on my part.
THE BEST NEWS EVER!
I am a Columbo-phile (which, as anyone knows, is more than fan, it makes fan look like someone who just picked a copy of the person’s efforts up because they were bored and wanted something to look at.) and I’ve got the first four series on DVD and every so often I check out the Ultimate Columbo site to see if any more Columbo DVD’s are available across here.
Well, I opened the site up and the news almost gave me a nosebleed with excitement.
The fifth series, available, over here, copies in Manchester’s HMV store, on the twelfth of the February.
That’s Monday.
As was my bent on my previous blog (which, as I think we’ve all been convinced by now, no longer exists) the evening before the launch (tomorrow) I will list the episodes on this DVD along with a little bit of info on each one, so you will be able to anticipate the delight I am going to experience on Monday, after going into Town and picking up my own copy.
RECOMMENDATION
Amongst my vast collection of books are several from the St. Martin’s True Crime library, a US publishing house that turns out as the title says, true crime books.
Each one is short (around about 260 pages) and compact, and tells the tale of a murder (or murders) and what happens to the murderer before and during and after. Although people like Jeffrey Dahmer and Andrea Yates are covered, the majority of the volumes cover the lesser known crimes, small town US murders.
Like the two disturbed teenagers who killed the church going grandparents of one because they tried to keep them apart and destroy their lesbian love.
And the long-distance lorry driver and serial killer who was so disturbed by his feeling of guilt he turned himself in and admitted what he’d done, and for evidence pulled out a human female breast from his pocket.
And the philandering husband who, on a break from a church basketball game, went home and gunned down his wife and two children, while living in a compound surrounded by family members, and was only caught due to a forensic analysis of his sweat shirt proving he did pull the trigger, despite being gone and returned hardly long enough to have done the deed.
And the man who kidnapped and murdered a young woman by the roadside and kept her body for three years in cold storage, the body being discovered almost by accident when he left his vehicle in the wrong place and the police were called to remove it.
Very few of the writers are well known, and therefore, unlike a lot of the more famous writers who mostly just enjoy putting their opinion across, they concentrate on the facts, just the facts, as the saying goes, and don’t go on and on about what they think happened.
I purchase about one a month, every time a new one arrives in the bookshops over here, and I have never been disappointed yet. I love the writing and reading of what happens when an ordinary life is thrown out of kilter, and domesticity turns sinister and someone, usually someone trusted, picks up a gun or a knife and takes a life for whatever reason
(There is, in fact, a British version, Pan Books, the which cover the lesser known and less celebrated murders and murderers in the UK, but each book contains various cases and doesn’t concentrate on one, and when I was in my teens I used to nip down to the local library on a Saturday morning and check out such volumes and then come home and stay in and devour the versions that were available in the seventies, mostly covering people who did their deeds in the forties and fifties, like James Hanratty and John George Haig. Maybe that’s why they mean a lot to me.)
If it’s at all possible, if you can, look out for a St. Martin True Crime Library publication. If you’re into such things, as I am, you will not be disappointed.
VERDICT ON A VICTORY
I was doing some washing up and one of those tiny furry winged insects was caught in the water rush from the tap.
It hit the water already in the sink and after a moment of awkwardness (I didn’t want to push the poor thing underwater and my hands were so BIG and clumsy compared to it) I managed to fish it out and laid it alongside the sink, away from the water.
It was perfectly still, so I gently blew on it, which revived it. It’s little legs were going.
After finishing washing up with great care, so no water would splash up onto the sink worktop and finish the job of drowning the creature off, I left it for a moment to dry off. There was a bit of trouble with one wing stuck to the metal worktop, and there was the fear that my Jessica (who is a total hunter) might see it and kill it, but with a little help from me (again being mega careful due to the size difference) I managed to get it onto my kitchen table where, after a moment, it walked across the surface.
Then it gave a little hop.
Then another.
Then it launched itself off the table and into the air where it flew unhindered and then vanished (too small and moving too fast to track with my eyes for a long period.)
You know, it’s things like that that give me a real buzz.
THE WARNING SIGNS
Have a read of this.
It’s from the BBC news site and the idea is that the only way to stop Internet paedos from having their nasty way with the innocent children is for them to be forced to register an e-address and chat room name.
(Chat room names are not your real name. Having a ‘nick’ is all part of the (mostly harmless) fun.)
The problem with this (and I’m a total technophobe and even I’ve worked this out) is that chat names and e-address can be changed about and discarded with laughable ease.
So, how to get round it?
According to a Cliff Saran, who is the technology editor of Computer Weekly magazine;
‘If everyone had a single internet identity for life, like a National Insurance number, this would make it far easier to track people.’
Unless I’m blinded by my libertarian-anarchic principles, and am reading it through this filter, that is everyone. Everyone. Not just paedos and potential paedos but everyone. Like everyone has a National Insurance Number, that makes everyone. (Again, everyone) easy to track.
Of course, this drive does nothing to prevent the pre-Net old fashion types who take their little girl daughter into the bedroom while their wife is watching telly, and those of the dirty mac brigade who pick out children on the streets and groom them and do evil things to them. This law is being discussed because of people like the aforementioned, not Net pervs, but everyday pervs who the Home Office have lost track of. This is no way to track THEM, but never mind, as soon as EVERYONE (and again I cannot stress this strongly enough) has their Net personality registered, well, everyone will be better off. It’s for our own good.
OK right, yes, if it eases off the number of children caught in this way, yes, but why EVERYONE?
I mean, how many people are paedos or paedo inclined?
Why should I be forced to register and stick to a Net name and e-address that can be tracked day or night, just because a few perverts are invading chat rooms and talking dirty to the others in there? Surely if someone is so dangerous to children that they can’t be trusted to live amongst society, they should be fastened up for life.
I bet you’re thinking, ‘what’s up with her? Does she want paedos to roam the Net and pick up children with impunity? Has SHE something to hide?’
So I’ll put it another way: Suppose someone writes an article talking about how, in some cases, terrorism, can be acceptable? (Remember, one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter). Or what if someone criticises some government idea, like the right to give someone the same amount of prison time for looking at an unofficial website as getting drunk and then into a car and fatally mowing down a woman and child on a crossing? What if you enjoy frank discussions on drug taking? What if you are a drug taker? What if you think that;
THIS GOVERNMENT ARE A LOAD OF WASTES OF SPACE, TOTAL NANNIES WHO MAKE STUPID LAWS THAT REMOVE OUR RIGHTS MOSTLY ON THE SAY SO OF ONE PERSON OR OUT-OF-TOUCH-WITH-REALITY THINK-TANK OR INVESTIGATION GROUP.
What if someone wants to look at the sites pedalling this, or go into Internet chat rooms where such things are discussed frankly? Will there be government snoops watching out and if they see your name (and you can’t alter it) or fish for and get your e-address (again, if the law is created, unchangeable) will they have the right to come along and take you into custody and then take hold of your computer? (There is even talk of being able to take hold of a person’s computer without a warrant.)
To put it more frankly:
If these well-meaning types have their way, if you are tracked looking at a site that the government thinks you should not be looking at, then the police can come to your house, and take your computer without you being able to say anything.
And if you disagree, if you protest at another chipping away of your liberties, well, are you one of them, are you a paedo lover, or a paedo yourself?
That’s how it starts: reasonable suggestions are made and laws are passed, and then more and more laws are passed, the suggestions still reasonable, all for our own good, until eventually we are stuck in a place where there is no way out and rigid in the fear of being caught just doing things that the government doesn’t approve of, usually on the say of one person who has got the ear of those in charge, and has made illegal.
But as long as it’s for our own good. . .
SONG TO END THE WEEKEND ON : BOMBALURINA’S VERSION OF ‘ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY YELLOW POLKA DOT BIKINI’
This weekend’s song is absolutely brilliant (and I’m not pinching a copyright*).
Does anyone else remember Bombalurina, (named for one of the cats from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s pop opera ‘Cats’) the group headed by Timmy Mallet?
Anyhow, don’t expect anything serious or challenging, just sit back and as always,
Enjoy. . .
And. . .
Have the best possible week, despite what it might chuck up at you.
(Warning and recommendation : The video containing the song is rather blurry and out of sync which can be irritating. I’m not into graphics that much anyway. I just listen to the words.)
*You have to know a bit about Timmy Mallet to get the reference.
IS THIS MEANT TO BE FUNNY?
And then there was the man in the death cell waiting to be taken to the chamber itself, and the governor asks him;
“What do you want for your last meal?”
And our friend thinks about it and says;
“A fry-up, eggs, bacon, tomatoes, sausage, fried bread, all in lard, followed by a pound weight of chocolate cake covered in crème fresh and all washed down by a three litre bottle of Cola.”
“That’s an unhealthy meal!” The governor says, “do you want to kill yourself?”
And I got a real brilliant song to end the weekend on for later on.
