Head Rambles

Grandad March 25th, 2008

I was browsing around my Reader this morning and what do I see? 

I see Damien Mulley telling the world that "Grandad is bringing Irish blogging into disrepute."

Now, if anyone else said this, I wouldn’t turn a hair, but Damien?  I must have done something really bad.

Have I been walking around with my zip undone again?

Has that little incident behind the Alexander Hotel at the Awards night come to light?

Had I misspelled something on my site?

I was worried, so I followed the link. 

Oh dear.  I have really upset Jenny.

Now, I don’t know who is the more confused - Jenny or me?  Because I wrote about things like Christmas being called Winter Holiday in case people might be offended.  She replied by saying [and I quote] "So, Grandad, I’m for the removal of all pensions and all health care and housing for old people".  That is where my confusion started, but I think she was confused long before then.  She is also writing about "baa baa black sheep, black coffee and personhole covers".  She really is confused, because I never said anything about them. 

The only areas where I may have given her cause for concern [if she had read my post properly in the first place] were my mention of goliwogs and foremen.

When I wrote about golliwogs, I was referring to little toy dolls.  Fifty years ago, they were common in toy shops.  The strange thing is that I don’t think they offended anyone.  They were just little rag dolls, that happened to be made out of black cloth.  They didn’t blacken my opinion of any particular race.  They were just traditional dolls.  Kids have had them for generations.  There are plenty of dolls made of white cloth too.  They don’t offend me.  Nor do dolls dressed in a particular national costume.

However, Jenny seems to have gotten the idea from this that I am all for ‘nigger bashing’?  That is a leap in logic that has me dumbfounded.  I am not racist, and never have been.  I believe all people are equal.  In fact I believe that all people are so equal that no group should be singled out for special treatment.  In fact, I could argue that it is racist to single out one group for special consideration.

Then me come to the gender thing.  I did say that I deplored the foreman/foreperson syndrome, simply because it was silly.  Jenny retorted by saying that using words like foreman and chairman were a barrier to women’s progression in the workplace?  That is a strange argument.  If that were the case then we should have had a lot of female pilots and captains and holding other high positions of non-gender specific titles.  But that wasn’t the case.  Yes - there was [and still is] discrimination, but that has absolutely nothing to do with words.

You see - what I have been talking about is words.  Just words.  Not attitudes or racism, discrimination or gender bashing.  You say words colour our view of people?  I would say that if they do, then possibly you have a latent tendency to discrimination that you are afraid to admit. 

I would ask you, Jenny to reread my original post.  You seem to have completely misread it first time around.

And as for the last bit -

And if you are offended by any of the above, then fuck off.

You snivelling little cry baby.

That is called irony.

I think Damien appreciates irony.

• Blogging
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Grandad March 24th, 2008

In these troubled times we live in, security is an unfortunate necessity.

Even here in the mountains, we must always remain vigilant.  Being a rural community, we tend to look after one another, and run our own form of neighbourhood watch scheme.

I thought I would help out, so I purchased a consignment of wireless webcams.  These are great as they can be placed at strategic points and I can record whatever is going on at the flick of a switch.

I placed them at strategic points around Head Rambles Manor and the surrounding area, and they work extremely well.

I had quite a few cameras left over, so in the interests of neighbourliness, I decided to protect my neighbours homes as well.  In order not to disturb them, I waited until they were out, but I’m sure they’ll be delighted at the extra security.

I tried the system out again last night and again it worked well.

Just as soon as I sort out some problems with focussing.

• Around the garden
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Grandad March 23rd, 2008

Wouldye?  Woodya?  Wooja?  I don’t know how to spell the fecker’s name.

We’re ‘babysitting’ That Dog at the moment.

He is half a ton of brainlessness.  He is a twit, a moron, a Homer Simpson.  He is also immensely powerful.

When he is in the garden, he plays with rocks.  Our lawn is decorated with boulders.  He could outclass a JCB.  I think one of his ancestors built Newgrange or Stonehenge.

When he is indoors, he isn’t allowed rocks, so he plays with bits of paper or old leaves instead.

He’ll stand and look at a bit of paper for ages.  Eventually, he will pick it up and spit it on my lap.  I am supposed to throw an old leaf?

I got really tired of him yesterday.  I had to demolish a wall he had built in the garden. 

I sent him out to play on the road.

The inevitable happened - A racing SUV; the sound of screeching tyres; the crash.

Half an hour later, That Dog came wandering up the lane quietly chewing the side panel off a Discovery.

I went out to have a look.  He had destroyed the car.  It was covered in toothmarks and slobber.  He had chewed it completely out of shape.

I like That Dog.

But I’ll have to think of a new name.

• Around the garden , Around the house
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Grandad March 22nd, 2008

One or two of you may have noticed that I didn’t write anything yesterday.

I sat down yesterday morning, and the thought crossed my mind that I was deliberately looking around for something to say.  I realised then that I was posting for the sake of posting.  That is not good.  I looked back and realised that I had posted on 450 or so consecutive days.  Did I really have something of importance to say on each of those occasions?

I had nothing to say yesterday, so I didn’t say it.

I am slightly changing my blogging technique.  If I have something to say, I’ll say it.  If I haven’t, then I won’t.

Also I have been commenting on comments as soon as they arrive.  This must give the impression that I am sitting here frantically waiting for someone to write something, which would be a bit sad.

I work on the Interweb.  I sit here with the laptop connected to the Interweb while I work, and as such I am notified of every mail that comes in.  I have changed that.  Frankly I was finding my train of thought was being interrupted by mails.  I have shut the mail up, and will only check mails from time to time.  Blogging is not my top priority in life [sorry!].

It’s a pity really that I decided this yesterday, as my previous post caused a few ripples.  Most of you got the point I was trying to make, but some didn’t and accused me of racial hatred which is surprising.  But then little surprises me any more.  Another person expressed amazement that I didn’t delete her response [she mentioned it on another blog].  I have deleted comments in the past - I have deleted spam.  I have deleted messages that were irrelevant and blatantly so.  I also deleted a small block of comments when two commentors [commentators?] became very abusive towards each other.  I have never deleted a dissenting comment.  I have allowed comments even if I completely disagreed with them.  I was accused in the past in a hate mail of deleting any comment that disagreed with my point of view.  That amused me.

So I am not changing my policies because of any hate mail I have received.  I am not changing them because of the furore my Thursday post may have caused.

I am changing them because of priorities.

See you tomorrow.

Maybe.

• Blogging
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Grandad March 20th, 2008

I was browsing around the Interweb thingy as I tend to do while waking up in the morning.

One of my essential ports of call is Primal Sneeze.  I like his style.  I like his attitude.

Today he is on about Met Éireann [Irish Meteorological Service] and their use of the terms Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the like.

He says this is the Catholic Church being rammed down our throats.

“Good on ya!” I shout at Sneezy [as I affectionately call him], because I don’t like any religion being rammed down my throat.

But then I thought of the alternative.

This is perilously close to that ghastly world of the Politically Correct.

I hate that Politically Correct world.  It is bland and colourless.  You have to watch everything you say in case you might offend someone’s sensibilities.  Some poor sensitive little soul might be offended by the word Christmas; so we call it Winter Holiday.  Someone might have a nervous breakdown at the mention of St Patrick’s Day so we call it Green Day.

I feel sorry for these pathetic bastards who are so grossly offended by words [not you, Sneezy] that we have to tiptoe around in case they have a nervous breakdown. Call me a Mick, or a Paddy or a Red Neck Culchie.  Do I shrivel up and die?

Bring back golliwogs and the Lyon’s Tea Minstrels.  Let the building site be ruled by the foreman and not the foreperson.

If a woman chairs a meeting, does it remove her gender if we call her Chairman?

Bring back the Politically Incorrect.  Bring back the colour.  Let’s stop avoiding the cracks in the pavement.

Let’s have an International Politically Incorrect Day, and see what the Politically Correct try to call it.

And if you are offended by any of the above, then fuck off.

You snivelling little cry baby.

-oOo-

I have expanded on this post, as the Politically Correct have jumped on the bandwaggon and are accusing me of thing I never said.  Sad.

• Rants
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Grandad March 19th, 2008

I watched the news last night, which is a rarity.

One of the big stories of the day was the Heather Mills business.

Here we have a case where a woman is awarded £24.3m in a divorce settlement and is complaining.  She has been given more money than anyone else will see in their entire lifetime.  It’s not enough.  One of her complaints was that the child’s allowance would force the child to travel B class when flying.  The child is only four.

I don’t blame Ms Mills.  I feel sorry for her.  She is a child of our age, where consumerism and celebrity are more important than anything else.

Society now is radically different from the society of a few decades ago.  The ultimate aim now is money and instant gratification, no matter what the cost.  It has reached the stage where people actually feel it is their rite to have such things.

Young people today are running headlong on a path to self destruction.  They want happiness and they want it now.  They go out of a night, not to have a drink but to get smashed out of their skulls as quickly as possible.  In my day, we went out for a few pints, and got merry.  More often than not, we would overdo it slightly and end up a bit pissed.  But it would take an entire evening to reach that state.  Now the first thing they head for is the ’shots’ and the shorts.  Get hammered NOW!  Another item on the news was about the alarming rate of increase in alcohol related problems amongst kids in their teens.  Kids are damaging their livers and kidneys before they have even started life.

The consumer society has also gone haywire.  Manufacturers would have us believe that if we don’t have the latest gizmo, gadget or whatever then we are missing out on a life changing experience.  We have to have the biggest, the best and the latest.  Why?  Why should we all drive SUVs?  Why should we all have phones with GPS, instant TV and gaming facilities?  Why should we all have bigger TVs than anyone else?  Because we are told we need them.

So we have a culture of complete discontent.  Those that don’t have it, want it, and those that have it, want more.  No one is ever happy with what they have.  We have bred a society of jealousy.  People are jealous of other peoples possessions or success.  They can’t handle that because it conflicts with their concept of instant gratification. 

So, do you want instant happiness?  Go out and drink yourself into a coma, or take drugs.

Don’t agree with someone?  Kill them.

Do you want a few bob in your pocket?  Go beat up an old age pensioner for their few quid.

Want a new phone?  Find a kid with a better one and steal it.  If you kill him in the process, then what the heck.

What the hell happened to decency and compassion?  What happened to honesty and morality?  What happened to tolerance and goodwill?

I won’t be watching the news tonight.

I’ll be dreaming about The Good Old Days.

• Getting old , Times past
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