Lately, I’ve been getting incredibly frustrated with something, but I don’t really know what that something is. I have a grating, itchy discomfort somewhere in my brain that commands me to let things out. Why? Because there are too many people that are friggin’ wrong about everything.
When in discourse, it is healthy and desirable to seek opinions and arguments contrary to your own. I am keen and receptive to the other sides from my viewpoint; I’ve actively sought it. However, I think in this I’ve reached a critical juncture where I’m about done. I’ve heard enough bull from people that wouldn’t know a fact if it gave them an enema. I can’t stand to read another paragraph of supposedly witty quasi-intellectual defence of human stupidity, purporting to be “fair” by simply picking the mean between two arguments. And discussions with those who confuse emotional distress for logical reasoning are getting tiresome.
Guys, I’m gonna blog the heck out of all of you.
I’ve not got much excuse for having done so little with the site in the last 6-12 months, besides a wedding but I may be rather milking that one. It soon became clear that my neglect had worse effects than just my overactive guilty conscience: another useless timewaster somewhere in the world decided to write a script that makes my website turn into a spam emitter unless I keep wordpress constantly updated. Seriously, I feel like all I do in life these days is update things.
So if you’re joining us in the future, why not laugh at the idiotic people of today for (amongst other things) trying, unsuccessfully, to block GM salmon from being sellable in the US, without actually having any reasons. Can you believe people used to be this ignorant?? I know, right! Luckily we get there in the end.
If you’re joining us from the present; congratulations! You have remarkably unlikely timing. Or you check my site every day and are therefore part of my Fan Club. I love you guys.
However, if you’re joining us from the past; awesome! You’ve got the time travel thing sorted. Big props to you, it’s a toughie.
Having recently returned from visiting family-to-be in New Brunswick, Canada, the dust has come off old projects and I’m looking to get things moving again. September begins and- good grief, I can’t believe 2015 is drawing to a close. Apart from the fast-approaching wedding in October, the end of this year is a time for finishing things.
So that’s what I will be doing.
Some years ago, I attempted to land on the moon.
Okay, it was the moon in the astrosim Orbiter. But it was, in logistical terms, still a huge challenge; Orbiter is a simulation, after all. So I decided to make things a little bit easier on myself. After all, I could learn the necessary astrophysical calculations to do it as NASA did in the 1960s. Or I could use the future! The science fiction future of Firefly, to be precise. I figured that the main challenge would merely be the limits of my vehicle. So, I postulated, if I was to use a high-tech scifi spaceship, it would be easy! I wouldn’t need to worry about trifling matters such as calculations. And I could not have been more wrong.
Serenity leaves Earth in a general moon-like direction
Welcome to needless rant corner! Your host for today; yours truly.
In one of the most irritating trends of recent years, it seems increasingly okay in games and movies to drop all admittance of serialisation and with brash and unapologetic disregard simply use the original title of the first installment; “Star Trek”, “Tomb Raider”, “Devil May Cry”, “Aliens vs Predator”, “Sim City”; as though we’d forgotten there was one already. Games are particularly guilty of this.
To a categorising brain like mine this is just… no. You are duplicating the primary key as far as I’m concerned. A film or game has a full title which should be unique, certainly within a series. I don’t care if it’s a large number of sequels, or if the original is really old (from over twenty years ago, maybe). The only thing worse than a ridiculously big suffixed number for a sequel is to simply drop a differentiator altogether and act as though it never happened. If they’re worried about a number making it sound un-original- well, there’s your clue: make something original.
What I think actually bothers me though is that it feels like an insidious attempt at replacing the past. It is eerily reminiscent of the role of protagonist Winston Smith, in the novel Nineteen Eighty Four:
“As soon as all the corrections which happened to be necessary in any particular number of The Times had been assembled and collated, that number would be reprinted, the original copy destroyed, and the corrected copy placed on the files in its stead. This process of continuous alteration was applied not only to newspapers, but to books, periodicals, pamphlets, posters, leaflets, films, sound-tracks, cartoons, photographs — to every kind of literature or documentation which might conceivably hold any political or ideological significance. Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date.”
Nineteen Eighty Four, George Orwell
It was teeming rain when Carolyn drove us to the transit station on our last day in Noosa. Both Lucy and I were excited and slightly anxious at the change ahead. The continuation of our adventures up the coast was an intriguing unknown. And since our arrival we’d been staying in motels, friend’s houses and with relatives; the Southern Cross Backpackers in Agnes Water would be our first ‘dormitory’ accomodation. We arrived at 18:10 to a waiting minibus, that took us swiftly to the hostel. The greyhound journey had been a fairly tiring 9 hours, so we were looking forward to the usual crash-out on a comfy bed and I must admit I hadn’t really thought about the fact it would be a dorm of six. The three dutch lads that greeted us asked us where we were from, but the conversation pretty much ended at that.
The atmosphere immediately following our arrival was uncertain, though not unpleasant. We both agreed that what we needed, were some people to strike off a good conversation with. As there was a barbeque about to light up, the opportunity arose to do just that. All we needed was to buy a drink and we got a hot dog. We sat down with it and got talking to Irish couple Owen and Tia. They had been making their way down the coast from Cairns; working in many hostels although in this one they were taking a break and just paying to sit back and relax. They were also just one of many people we would meet that were headed for Sydney for New Years.
The following day we had a leisurely start, as we’d booked the Scooteroo Tour which starts in the mid afternoon and is pretty much the main reason that many backpackers make a stop of Agnes Water. At the hostel office, we had been warned the previous four or five days had been solid rain and the forecast was grim, but the new day brought with it some stunning sunshine and at 14:30 we were picked up (speaking Rural Aussie Time; at two thirty we were waiting for the bus, at two fifty-five it actually turned up). The tour basically involves riding 125cc chopper motorbikes through quiet rural roads in search of kangaroos. In addition they cheese it up with a complementary flame-decal helmet, matching leather jacket and free temporary tatoo. I passed on the tatoo, but the rest was safety equipment which meant I was supposed to wear it. So I fed it to a passing platypus then resumed looking awesome.
Every day my inbox is swamped with comments from hundreds of dedicated fans of my website. I’d like to take a moment to just read out some fan mail in my inbox this morning.
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Thanks Snaby! And cheers for keeping in touch. Continue reading
Last week I went camping in Norfolk with my wonderful lady companion and though it wasn’t a long holiday, we’d set aside a day to basically do whatever we wanted (the day after we arrived, to be precise). So when the morning came, on seeing a bright shining sun, I felt the urge to build something. So I figured, let’s head for a beach. You see, despite being a ‘respectable’ adult, I have not lost the need to construct temples to Ra out of sand. I’m actually volatile in temperatures exceeding 30 degrees, so sunbathing is never something I took a liking to, but I don’t know if you can go to a beach when it’s raining. It might be against the law; I don’t know, I’ll look it up. Continue reading