Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts

Thursday, 5 November 2009

Zombies, Werewolves and England's Favourite Terrorist

A big well done for all those excellent costumes we saw on Halloween night. The streets of Dorchester were lined with covens of witches, packs of werewolves and the odd one or two vampiric bloodsucker. Funnily enough as the night wore on and the festivities (and the alcohol) took their merciless toil, I felt more and more like I was in a tribute to Michael Jackson's Thriller video.



Ah well, such is the nature of the ever changing world we live in. Its all in with the new and out with the old. Clearly the influence of our american cousins (Some would say cousins loosely as in the Darwinist definition) has had a profound effect on our celebrations of all hallow's eve. I saw many parents walking around their young monstrous offspring in the expectant delerium of a sugarhazed high. This is progress from last years groups of teenage ogres throwing eggs at old ladies windows, but still there is something very unbritish about it all. Maybe its the use of the term "Candy", or the fact that the kids get very rude if you give them the "trick" instead of the "treat", but something about this pre-pubescent charity jars with me.

Maybe its because so much attention has been focussed on this splurge of materialism, teaching our not so innocent children to beg for fattening sugar seems immoral somehow, perhaps we ought to have a "bum a fag" day, (on reflection that will mean something very different in the states i'm sure... here in the UK, it means to beg for a cigarette.) but I suspect the thing that bothers me the most is not about what Halloween has become, but what it isnt.



Tonight, November 5th is a very special day in England, or at least it should be. Guy Fawkes was born in 1570 in York. He was brought up amongst Roman Catholics attending the St Peter's school in York before joining the army in 1586. In 1605 he led the "Gunpowder Plot", a plan to blow up the House of Lords, during the State Opening of Parliament whilst King James I was inside.

He basically figured we were better off with it ALL gone. And why not. I think every once in a while we should recognise that things are just a bit rubbish and that we may need to blow it up and start again. In fact, Guy is a reminder that we are able to do just that. Thomas Jefferson said...
"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government."

Thats what Guy Fawkes stood for, and not only that, but in the true spirit of the English, he failed completely!



We celebrate this day, November 5th, as the day his fiendish plot was discovered, by lighting bonfires and burning the effigy or "Guy". This is a uniquely english celebration, which now involves fireworks, wooley gloves, scarves and the odd greasy fry, but its obvious to me that even though we have done this practice for the last 400 years the times have changed.

This year, all of our regular public bonfires (an opportunity to place things appropriate to burn on the giant heap in the green) seem to have disappeared. I can only assume this has something to do with the loathed 'Health and Safety Committees' that have sprung up around the country spoiling our fun and ruining our lives, since there has always been something magnetic and powerful about a giant bonfire to young and old alike.

It occured to me though as I watched so many monsters haunting the streets, that perhaps it was time to let this tradition go. Perhaps this pyre, this last vestige of englishness should be set ablaze and allowed to drift off into the forgotten sea.

I was in the supermarket today and spoke to a friend I hadnt seen for some time. She had split with her cheating husband and had returned to Dorchester for some tranquillity and a new begining. And thats when it occured to me that before we let all our antiquanted traditions go, we should see if we can blow a little more life into its dying embers.

I put it to you that there is plenty of life left, and that even if you dont see the benefits of burning the last traces our most famous terrorist, then you should replace him with your own burning effigy. Perhaps a cheating lover would be appropriate or a tyranical boss, an interfering mother-in-law or even a sadistic dentist. Perhaps a fraudulent polician would be more appropriate to burn, or a perverted priest, or even an inconsiderate, rude and just plain annoying driver, who cuts in on me and doesnt indicate and stops for no reason whatsoever!





I personally will be imagining enjoying the sight of Dorchesters loathed teenage "Chavs" going up in flames, but whatever beats your drum.



Either way, I think we should try hard to keep this wonderful old tradition. We should celebrate our bonfires and sparklers, even if it does scare the bejesus out of the local dogs!

Burn Baby Burn.....hahaha!

Thursday, 1 October 2009

Culture Shock and Double Cream

As some of you will know this trip to the US is very different to the last one. Wheras last time we were going out all the time spending the days in museums, art galleries and theatres, and the nights in good restaurants trying to teach the two skiddles which fork to use, this time the closest we have been to going out has been McDonalds.

It has been a good thing though, interesting and challenging. For my part with my girl in her new job leaving at 7am in the morning and coming home at 6pm at night, and the kids gone from 8 to 3, its meant that I had to get to grips with a very different Oklahoma. I have kept myself busy enough, or at least I did initially, trying to keep the place clean, and cook a variety of things, but I have noticed some "differences" which have not helped in my plight to become a domestic god.

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="264" caption="Whipped cream"]Whipped cream[/caption]

For a start, some of my world famous recipes, have not gone according to plan. In fact they have not gone according to plan so much, that now both the skiddles and my girl are a little... well i'd like to say worried but the truth is that they're more scared than worried. And whilst I accept that some of it has been my fault, most of it hasnt been. Say for example just the other day when I made a peach desert. I wanted to top it off with Evapourated Milk, a delicious, thick and sweet liquid, that goes nicely with a spongy cake type thing. Imagine my disappointment when the stuff that came out was much more like UHT (which they have never heard of over here). It was very hard to explain how it really does taste better in England! Luckily we had some "Whipped Cream"... Whipped cream over here comes pre-whipped in a margerine tub, for you to spoon out!

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="242" caption="spaghetti i think"]spaghetti i think[/caption]

The other day I was cooking some sticky lemon pork, which went well,

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="210" caption="bad rice"]bad rice[/caption]

but the spanish rice.... this is rice boiled in chicken stock and tomatoes didnt go so well. For  a start, I spent a good half an hour trying to figure out how to use the can opener, then the rice I used turned out to be quick cook rice, and so went very squidgy by the time I had finished with it. Then there was the spaghetti... now i know what youre thinking... how can you get spaghetti wrong, well two things happened. First the tin of tomatoes I had turned out to be tomatoes and chillis. Now, I am sure that skiddles the world over are fussy. I remember my mother fighting with me over fussiness when I was younger, and my girls skiddles are no different. They took to my "chilli" bolognaise like cats to water... it was not pretty. It didnt help that when I asked how much spaghetti to use, my girl, not realising it was a big pack, told me to use the lot, which then overfilled the pot, until they went all sticky and starchy!

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="316" caption="spanish tortilla"]spanish tortilla[/caption]

Then there was the spanish omelet (or tortilla) which I made with green beans (cos I didnt think the kids would like spinach), but apparently since I called it a tortilla, and so they expected a flat mexican pancake, and i gave them a thick eggy omelet, they objected to!

In fact the only thing that seems to have gone down okay is my salad dressing, and even that has a limited success. I have noticed that the kids have taken to "adding salt" to everything I cook now, not cos it needs salt but because that way they cant taste it, and they can turn to mommy and claim "its too salty, can I throw it out"!

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="285" caption="cool"]cool[/caption]

Now speaking of Mommy for a little moment... Mommy started off by backing me up. "you must try it", "Its all food", "children in Africa would love to eat this", but as the weeks went on, I noticed she started having "A full lunch with the boss"

So I have started to feel more and more deflated, and its not just in the cooking department either. Take for example the toilet cleaner, which comes as a powder that you leave in the toilet bowl for a while before flushing it. Except flushing it at the wrong time, or putting too much powder in the bowl (especially with such a high water mark on the loo) meant that the foam would flow over the lip of the toilet and may have covered the toilet floor and I may have had to spend a while cleaning it. erm.... but thats not all, even their floor cleaner proved to be too tricky. Instead of having a simple mop and bucket, which everyone and his grandma could deal with, they have a "swisher", a strange device that looks like a mop with a button push cleaning fluid ejector half way up the stick....  Now how was I supposed to know that you needed to put a sheet on the bottom of the thing.

Enough said.... There are things I could have done better, and there are things I have been plain unlucky with. All this is part of the culture shock you get when you come here for any amount of time. I was stunned the other day whilst watching the american version of who wants to be a millionaire that I couldnt get past the first three questions! How was I supposed to know the lyrics to some childrens song!

The truth is that the US might look a little like England, might feel a little like England, might even talk english, but it aint England! No double cream, no clotted cream, no sugar in chocolate (the chocolate here is horrid!), no hot tea, no back bacon, no mature cheddar, no branston pickle, no curry and no crusty bread.

Not that Im saying England is better, just different. And the US offers so much more..... pazazz.  It surprises you with its never ending supply of drinks, the swimming pools, basketball nets and tennis courts connected to each set of apartments, its free telephone lines in other countries when you get a new local contract.

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="147" caption="heheh"]heheh[/caption]



The US shows how the customer really can be king, it floods you with a million special offers and a billion freebies. Sometimes though its hard to look past the BOGOF's and the Open Days and see how you are being manipulated. Its hard to see that the cheap fuel given to you in one hand means a divisive and unethical manipulation of the international market on the other. Sometimes you feel like you are living in a fantasy, and you just cant imagine people living a different way. Its easy to "expect" things and after a while I have found myself questioning service instead of stoicly putting up with it like we do in the UK.

I can see why they often appear to us as brash and demanding. Its just what they expect over here, but wheras we suffer everything with a good dose of cynicism, they have none and blindly believe what is told to them. I was astonished to see that President Obamas speeches are used to advertise bad debt companies, can you imagine Gordon Brown appearing on a British Beef advert!


Their belief in the polarised one side or the other system is quite astonishing. Not just republican (tory) and democrat (labour), but Dallas Cowboys or Pitsburgh Steelers, No guns or you must have a gun or Jesus or the Devil. Everything is black or white and there is no voice for shades. And the language is so confused that you sepnd half your time trying to work out what you are supporting (or not). Pro-life or Pro-choice... which one believes in abortion? If someone talks of euthanasia, another person talks of death camps.

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="234" caption="uh??"]uh??[/caption]

Since I've been here I've heard arguments that Darwin caused World War II, that Gravity is gods way of keeping us on the planet and that the US of A have won every major war since the war of independance. Mostly told by nutters that have no place singing on street corners, and yet they do.

I have had a discussion with my future father-in-law that said that the americans saved "your butts" in Granada. If you dont know what happened in Granada, I advise you to look it up and see what the text books say. I had to aquiesce since I didnt know the subject, but I must have done enough, because a revised edition was handed to me the next time I spoke with him, and therin lies another great thing about the US.

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption="She might not be pretty but she brings pure joy!"]She might not be pretty but she brings pure joy![/caption]

When they do realise, accept, appreciate they are wrong, they really do something about it. Service is incredible, in every regard, like when the kids ordered some drinks the other day and the waitress brought them over, but the kids started crying telling us they wanted a different drink. In England you would die of embarrassment and tell them to shut up. In england the waitress would huff and groan and charge you double. In the US the waitress told us no problem and came back two minutes later with the new order at no extra charge. Or the way that my girls steak was not cooked well enough for her so they asked her to remove the baked potato, so she had something to eat, whilst they cooked it up, and then they gave her ANOTHER baked potato with the newly cooked steak. This was not special attention, this was common practice.

I went to the school the kids are at again. I had gone several times last time I was here, and I had to pick something up here this time. The staff remembered my name, allowed me to sit in their office, offered me a tour and a drink. There is something incredible in that level of commitment. And believe me, its not just to me they offer it, its with everyone.

I hope that my life here doesnt make me forget my cynicism. Doesnt stop me questioning the facts I am told about the world. I hope I keep doubting everything, and looking for my own answers. More than that, I hope that I keep pushing my new family to see the rest of the world, to recognise what they consider as being normal or passable actually is incredibly good in any other country. I hope I can bring a little realism to their lives, as in my opinion everyone needs to know how they have it good wheras others have it bad just because they happened to be born in the wrong country.

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="192" caption="spoilt?"]spoilt?[/caption]

I have alwasy been greatful that my parents did that for me, that they forced me to eat things I didnt like as a child, forced me to sit through things I was bored at, and forced me to try speaking languages when it was much easier not to. I hope I can help do that because its a start to being a more understanding more sympathetic person. To appreciate that things are good here, in part because they are bad somewhere else, and that things covered overnight but not put in the fridge is what millions of people with no fridges do every single day, and perhaps we shouldnt worry so much about the germ that got away, and that maybe a few germs can make us stronger not weaker.

That wasting food/fuel/energy/plastics/boxes may not be a crime, but it is a sin, in that it is a crime of priviledge that both sides of the pond are guilty of.

[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="216" caption="flu pack"]flu pack[/caption]

In the US at the moment they have adverts for "Swine flu packs" these include tissues, cold medicine, headache pills, muscle pain pills, face masks and hand cleaning gel. They are aimed at children, in fact such is the panic of swine flu that schools are regularly closing their doors for days at a time to stop the spread. We are talking about swine flu here. On the grand scale if things, swine flu is not a big killer, its not even killed as many people as measles did last year. According to statistics, your child is more likely to get run over going to school than they are from the swine flu they are very unlikely to get at school. And its that kind of manipulation that scares me. When you are swamped with it, then its hard to see the truth.

After all, how many in the UK were worried by asian flu, or the millenium bug. We all fall victim to this crazy manipulation caused by newspapers and media looking for sensationalist stories to catch the attention of a scared public. And I'm in the heart of it. Right here. I dont want to succumb to it, and  hope I never do significantly. Its that part of me that I worry about the most though. That part of me that forgets how ugly hard and real life can be elsewhere, when we have it so good, that even our homeless people have somewhere to ask for help if they are prepared to. I'm reminded of Alan, one of Dorchester's tattooed drunks that recently was given a home to live in. After years and years of choosing not to accept help he finally gave up, saying that his tramping days are over and thanks for the retirement present.

I'm thinking whilst it is good to see the old stallwart walking home every night, what people in Sierra Nevada or Pakistan would have thought of the choices he made. What the young innocent girls of the Surinam, raped by men who have aids because a witch doctor told them that was the only cure, would think of it. What Indian children of 8 years old would think of it as they climb up giant rubbish tips in search of some tin to sell. I wonder in fact how much money those same children would make over here in the US in one year climbing up the mountains of trash over here.

As a conclusion, and I'm sorry this is so long, I want to say that the US is a wonderful paradise of opportunity, where the best really is appreciated and demanded, but I just want to see a little piece of the other world. The world of poverty and hunger. When I was a child I saw Barry Norman on a kids tv show. The nations favourite film reviewer at the time said that to be a film reviewer, a good one, you had to watch an awful lot of BAD movies, to know a good one when you see it.

I think thats good advice for me now, and for everyone.

Tuesday, 4 August 2009

Generation Chasm

The other day my parents asked me for a little help. They are not very computer lierate, and doing the simplest things like opening an attachment seems to be beyond them. I would teach them properly but like all people who really wish they didnt HAVE to learn these things, they got impatient and just wanted to get on and do their thing.

Anyhow, whilst playing around with their post I noticed my father had sent an email to ebay. They recently bought an item online, and my father replied to their payment confirmation letter with a thank you for your prompt response note. Let me re-itterate that, My Father sent a thank you note, to e-bay automatic response website address.

It occurs to me that the generation gap is more of a chasm, and its getting wider.

My Father just believes that when someone is polite enough to tell him something is all taken care of, he should have the decency to say thank you. Its a simple and obvious mistake, and its also the explanation for why my mother has a nightmare everytime she turns MSN on. Within minutes she has a plethora of friends saying hello, and despite me telling her over and over again to ignore them, that the etiquette of IM-ing is different to seeing your friends in the street say, she still insists on writing over and over again... "Hello, I cant talk, Im late for an appointment", before turning the computer off in disgust.

When I think about it though, I realise that my frustration at their dogmatic approach to procedure is just as bad as my reluctance to wear my trousers down by my bottom, listen to hip hop and use txt spk.

To me, there is nothing so distressing than seeing the language I know and love being corrupted by lazy kids that cant be bothered to learn how to spell. To me they are the same kids that go 'happy slapping', that paint our streets with grafitti, and throw rubbish without care into our streets.

I know it makes me sound like a grumpy old man saying these things (and lumping kids together as "the youth of today"), but I just cant help it. I find them all so annoying. After all, what is it about kids that forces them to draw a giant penis whenever they see an empty wall. Do they really think its never been done before? Is it really a statement from a disassociated youth against a tyrannical society? Or is it more to do with a fascination with sex and a desire to look hard to their peers (is that not slightly homoerotic too? drawing penises on walls infront of your male friends?)

Im not saying kids didnt draw grafitti when I was younger, but even the "Wot No..."  cartoons which you saw everywhere in the 80's occasionally got hi-jacked by a political cause... Wot No Jobs, Wot No Bombs... What political message can you subvert the penis drawing to mean? Rights for Fathers perhaps... or Lewinski for president?

What is it about our society that makes our younger kids so careful about the environment, telling us off when we dont recycle, and makes our teenagers so carefree and dirty throwing wrappers on the floor even though they are next to a bin. What do we do to them to change them so dramatically? Did we as young boys and girls really spend so little effort trying to get along with the society we live in.

And how did we ever allow 'happy slapping' to permeate through our streets. In case you dont know what happy slapping is, it is the trend of filming your frined slapping a random stranger on the street, and posting it on the internet. Why have we become so scared that we turn away from a happy slapping incident now, rather than confronting the youngsters. When I was a kid I used to get confronted just for swearing! Now as a kid you can physically abuse someone and nobody bats an eyelid!

Instead of facing up to these problems we turn away, we hide in our 3 bedroom homes, with its security cameras and door alarms, we watch 'crimewatch' and 'cops' and phone in to our local radio programmes about knife crime. We complain from on high, declaring someone ought to do something about this, but it cant be us, because they are minors and will probably cry rape if we go near them. After all, in our society, there is nothing so feared, so loathed, so hated as a paedophile.

In the end though, how do we ever expect to teach our children how to behave, how do we ever expect to show them the difference between right and wrong, how can we ensure the next generation will continue in our footsteps to strive for a caring society when we have not shown them how to interact with the world we have created, and when we are too frightened to leave our own doors.

If we are running scared from children, is it not surprising they feel disassociated?

The leap is too large for me. Stuck in my ways, too old to change. A million different ways to say "I dont want to", but just as I get frustrated at my father refusing to use a mobile phone, so I have to bite the bullet and accept things as they are and not as they once were.

With that in mind, I have decided to take the bull by the horns and face up to my own personal pet hates head on. Im off towalk the streets with my trousers belted around my arse whilst listening to Snoopy Doggs on my iPoddy thing.

L8rs !

Sunday, 19 April 2009

My Fantastic Girl

I am selfish. Its a fact. I am selfish, too selfish i'm sure. And yet people still like me. I dont really understand why they do. I'm not sure if I would like me, but others do. Maybe its because I say things that others think, but heres what I mean. I hate kids! Well, thats not true, I hate kids who insist on having the window seats on planes and then dont look out of the window! I mean come on... I know they are kids and so were supposed to be all cutesy and nice and kind and stuff, but please! ANYONE who has a window seat should be forced to look out the window. I would have their faces squished to the glass for the whole flight if they fail to take an interest for at least an half hour after take off.

I've just come back from Oklahoma, and I had a middle aisle seat. I tried to make the best of it, tried to think af all the good things about having a middle aisle seat, like... good toilet access, plenty of head room (im 5'5" so thats useful), but in the end it's just crap. They should give you discount for the middle seats, and god forbid you are in the middle middle seat! trapped and bored! Nightmare.

Anyhow, I've just come back from Oklahoma, and whilst I'm sure I will get round to telling you the thousands of things I was fascinated by and the HUGE differences between the US and my England, I have to tell you that  I met my baby, she is pretty and funny and interesting and her children are fun and adorable. Im in love and completely smitten.I want to be with her and things will not seem right until she is back in my arms.

We have been in love for ages, but we still hadnt met, and if you have ever fallen for someone on line then you'll know there is a moment of doubt when you wonder how stupid you are being, surely they dont want you as much as they say they do, what if you just dont click in real life, how will you know she isnt a mad axe murderer and you will be victim number 45?

My moment of doubt took up a whole week prior, hers an half hour waiting at the airport. Funny how people are different. Then we saw each other. I turned the corner of the nothing to declare part at OKC airport and saw her smiling nervous face. It would have been so funny if I went running up to her in a 'brief encounter' kind of way and it turned out I was hugging the wrong girl, but she was not the wrong girl. She is the right girl in so many ways.

And in an instant I knew I would not be dismembered by the morning and fed to the street people in a meat pie (perhaps my fascination with Sweeney Todd wasnt healthy after all). I knew I was ok. Not just ok, but ok forever.

I am going to write about this over and over in the next few weeks, but as this is the first chance I have had to write a blogette, I thought I would give you the brush strokes. So now my roll in life is to save money so I can be with her again forever. My Angela, My Life.