Monday, July 25, 2005
Run Forrest Run
Last week the police shot a man who they suspected of being a potential suicide bomber; he failed to stop, ran headlong into a tube station, vaulted the ticket barriers and tried to board a tube-- as he did, he was tackled by the cops and shot in the head.
Read an article here.
In my opinion, it takes a special kind of stupid to run from armed police who've told you to stop.
I mean, look at the facts: there were a second wave of bombings on the tubes, so everyone's on edge. All the bombers were carrying rucksacks and of a middle eastern complexion (i.e. brown).
So, along comes our Brazilian, wearing an unseasonably warm quilted jacket (it's summer for crying out loud) and carrying a large backpack/ rucksack. Police challenge him, so what does he do? He bolts and runs into the station where he tries to board a busy tube.
Full marks to the cops-- there isn't a middle ground you can take when facing a potential threat like this. Shooting them in the head is the only way to stop someone who cares nothing for his own life and only wants the opportunity to kill as many innocent bystanders as he can.
Naturally, the Bleeding Heart Brigade has now jumped on the bandwagon, painting a fuzzily warm picture of a man who was kind, thoughtful, cried when he watched Watership Down, never walked over flowerbeds and so on, cruelly gunned down by trigger happy Rambos.
Something like this.
Obviously the BHB & their supporters would feel much better about things if he had been a bomber, and the police had been too crippled by the fear of someone with hurt feelings suing them for doing their job to do anything about it.
Until of course someone they know gets turned into shards of crispy critter by some dickhead who's feeling spiritually traumatised by something that a bunch of Franks did 1000 years ago.
Then we'll see what kind of response they support.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Get thee gone, fat man.
Whoohooo!I made it!
For the first time in just under 15 years, I weigh less than 100 kg!
It feels fanfuckingtastic!
I've been grinning in a seriously smug way at any fatty I walked past today. I felt like cocking a finger at them an winking in a Ford fairlane kind of way, but I figure they'd either try eat my finger or think I'm coming on to them, so I just stuck with my Special Smile.
Yes sirree.
Unfortunately I haven't spontaneously developed a ripped physique overnight a la Spiderman, but I can at least see some of what it is I've got. I may not have a six pack yet, but at least it's not in the cooler bag anymore, if you get my drift.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
And..breath again.
I thought I was a goner last night.
Just as the doors of my train were closing a man jumped aboard. He was young, in his mid twenties, of a swarthy complexion and sporting a Muslim style beard.
He sat on the opposite side of the passage, clutching a bulky backpack to his chest.
And boy, was he sweating. Both his forehead and top lip were streaming.
He kept glancing at his watch and out the window, fidgeting and toying with his cellphone.
I expect I was staring at him while I engaged in a heated internal debate with myself.
On my left shoulder the Gecko of Paranoia. He was ticking off the attributes that survivors of the recent bomb attacks had noted about the rabid little mongrels who carried them out:
Fidgety- check!
Sweating – check!
Backpacks held against their chest/body - check!
Swarthy, middle easterny types – check!
Public transport – check!
Rush hour – check!
Possible cellphone based detonators – check!
He was of course insisting that I stand up and scoot at least 2 carriages further on, away from this potential madman and his bag o’ death.
On my right shoulder sat the Gecko of Calm. He was pointing out that my train service is hardly packed and skirts around the main routes; it would be silly and pointless for Abdulla Iblowup to target this train, particularly since the train just after this one calls at all the major stations.
But, said the Gecko of Paranoia, maybe he didn’t check the boards.
Now I was sweating.
While I was watching my innate stubbornness (the part of me that refused to run away, thereby surrendering victory in principle to the vainglorious filth who orchestrated 7th July) wrestle with my self preservation (fuck the principles, run for your life), the guy that was causing me all this grief reached down into his bag, rummaged around …. And pulled out a copy of Men’s Health.
I was disappointed, in a macabre sort of way. He didn’t so much as burn the magazine. Seconds later his mobile rang and his conversation started “Yeah sorry mate, I had to run for my train….”
Point taken, lesson learned.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Layers of dustWhile I was sitting by the PC last night downloading some patches for the games I'm busy re-installing, I found myself staring at a thin 7' bundle wrapped in calico cloth.
It took me a couple of minutes to figure out what it was- my longbow. I bit imy lip when I realised how long its been since I actually went out for a bit of a shoot... I used to go religiously, every Sunday morning. And then Transport For London turned my route into a "buses only" road for 7 days a week. A detour would cost me an extra 30 mins of travel time each way.. so I started making excuses not to go, and somewhere along the line I lost the plot.
My beautiful, prized longbow I crooned about endlessly became another dust gatherer in the Storeroom Of Lost Treasures.
I should be ashamed of myself.. as a matter of fact, I am.
I've made my mind up to put some targets up this week and get it and my arrows shoot-worthy again. And to renew my NFAS membership so I can get back into the woods!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
VegemiteWell, here I am, back on the road. Computer all fixed and shiny new again.
This weekend just passed was great! We left home at an ungodly early hour and set out to go visit Veg up in Manchester. We sailed through town in record time- not too many people about at 5:30 a.m on a Saturday- and jumped onto the M1 highway. It was light but not bright, a little smidge of mist to keep things cool, and lots of empty road. Vrooooom.
There's nothing nicer than when your car is running smoothly and there aren't any spooners on the road to ruin the enjoyment and zen like state that a good, long drive induces.
We got there around 11, as promised. We only got lost in the last 2 miles...as usual the signposting was crap. I don't know why... surely it can't really be that hard to put a sign up thats bigger than a postcard? Maybe it's a British thing.
Anyhoo, it was damn fine to see Veg again! For a change he's fatter than me! mwaahahahahaha!!
I met his kids for the first time, tiny little creatures but definitely blessed with their dad's sense of humour. Great little people :)
Saturday developed from a small bbq with just the handful of us into a full blown friends & family get together, which was cool. Much beer was consumed, along with vast quantities of dead chickens and cow. We only migrated indoors when the midges decided that 15 warm bodies were too good an opportunity to pass up.
Sunday's drive home went just as smoothly... took the opportunity presented by the new M6 Toll road to open the engine up a bit. But hey, I drive a Suzuki jeep- "opening it up" equates to pushing it up to around 85 mph.. Still , it was fun overtaking Mr MidlifeCrisis in his shiny new Z4 and Johnny Flash in his porsche, even if they did get their revenge about 1/2 mile later on.
Plus, the weather was sunny all the way, so we had the roof off. Magic!
My only regret is not wearing a hat.. today I look like a cherry lollipop... white body & a red head.
Still, a small price to pay to see girlfriends & children trapped in the sedans driving past staring at us wistfully, wishing their dad/husband/ boyfriend had a kick ass jeep...
Friday, July 08, 2005
BoomtownTerrorists.
What a bunch of scummy, retarded bastards.
If anyone ever catches one and is keen on making his/her death long & agonising, please email me for a list of handy tips & suggestions.
Fortunately neither myself or any of my friends/ family were directly affected by the recent series of bombings; however, the effects hereof are still rippling through London. It's etched in the strained faces of the people on the bus going past, the way people almost inconsciously shy away when a packed bus rumbles by, the subdued sound of the crowds.
Casual visitors probably won't notice anything different; Londoners are a tough lot and upper lips have been stiffened and knuckles have been cracked, and everyone is getting on with life.
But if you've lived here for a while you can feel something in the air, and its not just the smog. Time though will take care of this... nervous tension..., soften the edges of it.
I can only pray that process is speeded up for the families of the poor bastards who were victims of the blasts.
Firstly, my absence is down to the recent Windows XP induced death of my PC at home. Just upped and died for no good reason at all. Sunday it was fine, A100%, Monday it was about as useful as a vegetarian at a BBQ.
Since I'm off to Manchester this weekend I'll be reinstalling everything next week.
Hey..
Got a light?
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