Grumpy Old Woman (Gimme Shelter)

Friday night, I watched a programme on TV which started to make my blood boil. Well, I say "watched"...if playing solitatire on playandwin whilst vaguely glancing over the top of the laptop counts as "watching", I certainly heard every word.

Everyone's a hypocrit, even if they don't admit it. Some people have very strong views and for the most part, even if I don't agree with them, the stronger and more forthright the views, the more I admire them.

Janet Street-Porter is an exception to my rule.

Janet was accosted by a beggar at an ATM, and she told them exactly what she thought - that basically this person was a sponger off hard-working, tax-paying, honest, upright citizens. Apparently the whole queue applauded.

I wouldn't have done had I been there. If I wasn't such a wuss, and I were as forthright as Ms Street-Porter, I would have said 'There but for the Grace of God, go I'.

Of course, Janet is an atheist, so maybe in retrospect, that should be, 'There but for Janet's ego go I'....

Janet could have been right. He could have been a dirty rotten opportunist, who didn't want to work and was happy to receive anything that was chucked his way, provided it kept him in speed and cider.

On the other hand, he could have been a guy who had had the shit kicked out of him by his father, competely disregarded and shunned by his mother, had been on the streets for some years and was starving hungry most days, and out of desperation, tried to beg money from people in an ATM queue.

What bugs me most of all is people like Janet who tar everyone with the same brush. Like the fact she calls all men wasters. It takes two to make a marriage.

I shamed myself on Friday, actually. There's a guy who I sometimes buy the Big Issue from in my local high street, but I've ignored him for weeks, all because my friends take the piss out of me for doing so. Yet, his type of begging is of a higher level than the guy in the ATM queue, and invariably, these guys have a home or a hostel.

Are these guys wasters too Janet?

Like Janet, I grew up in a fairly middle class family, and had all the opportunities, including university, should I have wanted to take them. I also had a loving home, with no threats of violence or abuse. I could have done so much more with my life and taken avenues that Janet travelled down. She thinks she's lived. She hasn't, and neither have I.

I believe in a form of fate, but some people have less roads to choose than others. They end up on the street as they felt they have no choice. I could have done too, but because of my avenues of opportunity, it was never ever a serious option. I am blessed.

And because I am a Christian (of sorts), there but for the Grace of God, go I.

There ain't nothing like blogging

Most times after blogging, I click the nifty button in the corner which states in bold friendly terms - 'Next Blog'. Y'see, I am a curious cat and like to see what everyone else is talking about.

Before I start my stating my pearls of wisdom (or goofery, depending upon your point of view) I should state a few facts first

1. Only 18% of the internet is ever read. That's EVER.
2. The average attention span of a surfer is 8 seconds. That's just a little more than your average goldfish.
3. One thing really liable to get people really narked at you is badly designed webpages
4. And another likely problem is pop up ads

Bear this in mind, dear surfer, or budding Adrian Mole (or whatever) before you start a blog or design a web page. When clicking next blog, I find:

The Diarist
Well, hey, there's nothing wrong with that. And some of them are really touching. I bookmarked one actually, cos it gave such a fascinating view of a life so far away I just had to give it deeper consideration. Remembering facts 1 and 2 again, the diarist's blog is probably less likely to be read by your sister, which frequently happens if you have it down in a big red book given to you for Christmas (by same sister). The ones that really get up my nose though r th 1s tht typ evrythng in txt spk. Please tell me, that if you really really really want your work of art on the web, and not on your hard drive (or under your bed) do you not want it at least intelligible? Or have I arrived at the wrong planet?

The Seller/Marketer
Quite. Remember facts 1 and 2. You need to advertise your blog more than your actual product. Still, at least these things are free. Some like to bring in the pop up ads. One charming site gave me a virus from one of the pop ups which took weeks to get rid of. Thanks, whoever that was. And see fact 4.

The budding Web Designer
AWFUL. Yes, most of the hybrid designs are just DREADFUL. And usually pink. And also designed on an obscure browser. I use Netscape, Mozilla and IE. None of them make the page look right, so can only assume they picked up some freebee with their Apple Mac, cos they think that M$ are money grabbing (people of dubious parentage). Look, busters, the reason why we use Netscape and IE is because we find that most corporations use them, they've had all the bugs kicked out of them, you can read 90% of the web with them. Apart from your ruddy annoying, badly designed web pages. And since I have the attention span of a goldfish, and don't want to ruin my eyes with bright yellow or pink, I click Next Blog pretty darn quick. See fact 3. And get rid of those BLOODY pop up boxes, MILLIONS of the buggers, TELLING ME HOW WONDERFUL YOUR WEB PAGE IS AND TO CLICK 'OK'!! Sorry those swines are more annoying than anything else. One had the cheek to say...'enjoy my blog' ...'don't create another like it!'...yeah like I'm really gonna try and annoy the remaining blog population that you haven't alienated. The blog was about 6 miles long as well.

The Newsreader
One web page for you. www.bbc.co.uk. End of.

The 'Have to Write Something Today'
Take a day off once in a while sheesh. Apart from those trying to stay in contact with others across the world whilst not paying a fortune in phone bills or postage, then fair enough. Those with a couple of mates who you speak with daily via Talk Talk, what IS the point? Hey, there's more to life than a laptop. Or something.

To blog or not to blog

Those that read this (well at least one does) will know that I don't blog very often. Now this could be laziness, but lets get real here. Real surfing addicts (and that's the net, not the ocean wave) will always find time to type something about themselves, its their favourite subject after all.

It got me thinking about why we don't get in touch with our family after we've been away from them for a few months. Now, what's your excuse when your mum phones you up and berates you for not keeping in touch? "Really sorry, Mum, been so busy at work" or maybe "been doing some work round the house, can't wait until you see it" or if she asks why you haven't visited even though you work just round the corner, the even more honest "frankly, mum your cat sets off my allergies"?

OK, lets get deep down here into the far reaches of the soul and draw on the wisdom of my favourite philosphers. They are, in this order, Nigel Molesworth and Fitzroy Maclean Angel. If you've heard of neither, then frankly, chum, you've missed out....what? You want me to tell you who the heck they are?? Look, matey, you've got Google lined up already. Open a new window, go and search for them and get some education. I'll wait here for you, promise.

Oh good, you're back. So now you know.

Nigel hated writing home to mum. He used to say that the truth was so despicable that mamma and papa would choke on their cornflakes if he gave the full, sordid details. So he soft soaped.

Fitzroy has nothing in common with his family, so he just never keeps in touch because he really has nothing to say to them.

So why do we get in touch with anyone? When we have something to say. Now you may be straight on the phone to mum if you win the lottery (OK maybe not) but if its just to say, well, the partner/wife/husband/mistress/lover is fine, our dog's fine, the house is fine, our car is fine, the job is fine, still poverty stricken, still fighting the next door neighbour over boundary rights yahdeyahdeyah you can see how it gets a bit monotinous and you only get in touch if something really special going on.

Hence it is with my blog. By heck, you're thinking, you must have an empty life.

Yeah, I do, but its busy too and when I move to Wales maybe I'll have more time and wax more lyrical.

More on blogs next time, some time. I really must steam clean the carpet.

"Tsunami Tourists"

They said
"We're staying,
There's fresh water here and our beach is clean"
But is it clean of the blood
and have the tears merged with the salt of the sea?
and others drink
water polluted with your waste

They said
"We're going to a dance later"
Yes, dance and laugh with the demons and the devils
who are rejoicing over the deaths of the 100,000
and they rejoice still more
as the figure increases by the hour

They said
"Staying will only help the economy"
Your all-in package holiday,
The money that will only help the rich
the fat cats
not the orphans, the widows
who are taken into homes
where they sit and contemplate walking out to sea
to join those whom they have lost

They said
"We have pledged our next holiday money to the fund"
And I have given money too
£5 will pay a child's food for a week
£20 will build a new home for the bewildered
But £5 can't stop a child from
beating his head against a rock because
the pain of death is preferable to the pain inside
and £20
can't revive the dead spouse
can't erase the memory
and can't heal the scars
as easily as the remains are bulldozed away from your eyes and mind



The above was inspired by a radio interview with a man still out on his holiday in the disaster area. He maybe has a point but I am struck by the reserve of it all. He was British too, sometimes our stiff upper lip can seem somewhat cold.

Have a peaceful New Year, all who read this and be thankful that if you spend it with a loved one, that they are still at your side. And please, give all you can to any of the many charities that are raising money to help those in distress after this terrible disaster

Duran Duran so good they named them twice

OK, so why start a blog with a has-been pop group?

Cos its my blog and I'll do what I want with it OK??

Sometime back in the late seventies, probably before most of you were born and I was about to contemplate the 11+, a few blokes (three of them named Taylor and unrelated) started a pop group. They'd had a few bevvies and had just seen the film Barbarella and thought that the name of the bad guy was a good name for a group. They were also moderately good looking then, which helped.

Actually, I didn't fancy any of them, though a mate of mine did hold a tealight for Nick Rhodes, though some people were laying bets as to what the next hair colour would be. But I do admit to having, on my bedroom wall, a natty Simon Le Bon pic in baseball gear. Unfortunately for Simon (or should that be fortunately) he was vying for attention with Messrs. Tennant and Lowe (aka Pet Shop Boys) and Nik Kershaw.

They had a rather uncanny knack of writing a tune that not only got teenagers dancing, but their mothers as well. These tunes were catchy, but most fascinating of all were their lyrics. Totally incomprehensible but would imprint on your brain like no Bible verse ever could. Even though I haven't heard a DD LP in years, I will still be able to sing along and remember ALL the lyrics. That is just too too scary. Now, if our mothers really knew what they were singing about, would they have bought us a virginial Seven and the Ragged Tiger LP for our birthday?? Cos, lets face it, what Duran Duran were singing about was SEX (well most of the time anyway) and although our mums had grown up with knowledge of the pill and free love, us little darlings still had to be protected from all that jazz cos they'd realised after marrying too young and having 4 kids and a mortgage that their parents were right - love is the worst thing that can happen to you. Also they had a terrible bad boy image on the quiet. Well it wasn't quiet for most the public, but as I read Smash Hits and not The Sun I was kept blissfully unaware of the all night drinking sessions, the trashing of hotel rooms and the string of broken hearts.

I was in to Duran Duran right at the time it was dangerously untrendy to like them. They hadn't really released a decent record since "View To A Kill" and two of the Taylors were getting itchy feet; Roger wanted to settle down and bring up some kiddies (bless) and Andy had delusions of being a great rock guitarist in the US of A. (Although, from time to time, I heard of him being a guitarist on the 'odd' record, he didn't so much set the world on fire as waft his Malboro smoke about a bit). So that left Le Bon, Rhodes and..the other Taylor. Needless to say, being designed on a 'proper' pop group (i.e. one that at least pretends to play their own instruments) they were short a drummer and guitarist. So they bring in a couple of blokes who, even though we may have been told their names, were never part of Duran Duran proper so were smartly assigned to the back row of the stage.

Actually, there were some decent records during those wilderness years, one of which was covered only a few years later - Ordinary World. Know of very few people who dislike that one.

So now they reformed and no Botox in sight. Andy looks unrecognisible. Nick still looks spooky. Simon's got fat. Roger...sorry is that really fresh faced Roger??...only John Taylor appears to have got himself through the late nineties and early naughties looking pretty much like he did in the early eighties. They even released a very eighties sounding pop record, even the title with its brackets harks back to the days when we used to answer those silly quizzes about records with brackets in. Most all of them were eighties....e.g... (??) Forget About Me, (??) Live and Die...you know the stuff I mean - we now have a new one - Reach Out (??) or should that be (??) For the Sunrise, I can never remember which.

Longevity. Are Busted gonna survive 25 years? They think they're gonna survive a millenia. I think not. Duran Duran before you busters...and I bet John still looks the same in the year three-thousand...