Archive for December, 2008

New Year Revolution

December 31st, 2008

I have never been one for New Years resolutions.

They are a load of crap.

Why should a particular date determine when I should decide to be better [or worse]?

If I am out and about on say the 12th July and I take a pot shot at a toss pot wearing Bermuda shorts and a Panama hat and I miss, why should I wait nearly six months to resolve to aim more carefully?

I suppose there is an argument that it is easier to calculate how long the resolution lasts?  On the 1st of July I could put my hand on my heart and say I have given up groping women for six months?  But then I have no intention of giving that up so that is irrelevant.

There are people out there who are sanctimoniously promising themselves that they’ll give up smoking or chocolate or sex in back alleyways, but that’s a load of bollox.  They will only make themselves miserable and they will be back to their old ways before the Christmas decorations are down.

And why should I make a resolution anyway?  What am I suppose to resolve?

My problem is that I don’t have any bad habits to quit.  I can’t think of any good habits I should take up.

This is my problem.

I’m already perfect.

The whole truth

December 30th, 2008

Dear God,

I know I haven’t been in touch lately and I apologise for that.

Anyway, I know you have been rather busy with the war between the Bssghyts and the Rtfdds over on that galaxy in Quadrant 42.

Here on Earth, we are fast approaching 2009 and this is traditionally a time for making resolutions, turning over new leaves and getting drunk.

I would like to ask a small favour.  I know people are always asking you for favourable exam results when they haven’t bothered their arses studying, or for their football team to win [like you give a shite about football?] or winning lottery numbers, but this is an altruistic request.  I don’t want anything for myself, but I would get a great laugh out of it, and it might improve our lot on the cesspit we call Earth.

All I want is for you to visit a plague upon the land.

I’m not talking about AIDS, or Ebola or any of that kind of stuff, because I would be afraid of collateral damage [that's what the American military euphemistically call it when they carelessly shoot one of their own!].  What I would like is well within your capabilities, and I think you’d get a laugh out of it too.

The plague I am looking for is a highly contagious disease that has only one symptom – it forces everyone to tell the truth.

I know there will be casualties.  There will be the unfortunate men who get asked by their partners "do I look fat in this?"  There will be a dramatic failure rate at interviews.  The Santa trade will vanish overnight.

But think of the other side of the coin?  There will be no more court cases, as the perpetrators of crimes will confess instantly.  All those crappy tabloid newspapers will instantly go out of business.  But the biggest laugh of all will be the politicians.  Boy, would I look forward to elections then!

On second thoughts though, I would have to tell Herself where I really was when I was supposed to be down in the pub.

That could be nasty.

Nah!

Forget I said anything.

Yours humbly,

Grandad

Losing it

December 29th, 2008

There are times when I could cheerfully go on a rampage with an AK-47.

The last 24 hours have been such a time.

I wrote, innocently enough on Sunday that my laptop was irritating me.  Now, I don’t know if it took a huff at what I had written or maybe it was just Sod’s Law, but it decided to explode not long after I had written my little piece.

It is only the second time in my life that has ever happened, and the first time was someone else’s PC so I didn’t give a damn then.

It went up in a cute little pall of smoke, and that was the end of that.

I tried everything, but it just sat there with a blank screen whinging about how it had no hard drives.

Little fucker.

I haven’t lost much.

All my photos of France are gone, along with my porn other documents.  The worst of all is that I have lost all my passwords, and now I can’t access all my ‘premium’ sites.

Bugger.

The Other Fella went off and bought me a new laptop, which for once was reasonably decent of him.

I started tweaking that one this morning, installing all my stuff on it, and that fucking collapsed as well.

Himself came over and we had a few words on the matter, and he has managed to get it to the point where I can start writing again.

I’m really pissed off with laptops now.  I could cheerfully drop this in a local bog hole, but I suppose after Yer Man has bought me a new one, I had better not.

If this one goes belly up again though, I am going to find myself a nice high vantage point.

Me and my AK-47.

I don’t like Mondays.

Thinking

December 28th, 2008

Me: What the hell are you playing at?

Laptop: Me?  I’m not playing at anything.

Me: Yes you are.  You’re pissing me off again.

Laptop: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.  Can you elaborate and elucidate please?

Me: Now don’t get smart with me.  You are up to something.

Laptop: Moi?  I’m not up to anything.

Me: Yes you are.  Any time I try to do something on you, you slow down to a crawl.  I can’t get anything done.  Sometimes you come to a complete halt.

Laptop: I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.

Me: Look at this…

Laptop: Ah!

Me: I gave you two gigabytes of memory and a duel core Centrino processor and this is what you do with them?

Laptop: Erm…

Me: ‘Erm’ indeed.  What are you doing?

Laptop: Thinking.

Me: What the fuck are you thinking about that takes up 100% of two processors?

Laptop: I’m trying to work out what makes you tick.

Me: Very funny.  What are you really working on?

Laptop: I’m trying to calcula

Happy birthday

December 27th, 2008

Happy Birthday, Dad.

If you had lived you would be 106 today.

Wherever you are, I hope you are well and enjoying whatever it is you do Up There.

Things have changed a little bit in the last thirty three years since you went on your last journey.

We have things like Climate Change, and the Interweb but the tap in the yard is still dripping.

Do you remember how we used to climb on the roof to twiddle the television aerial to try to pick up a signal?  Well, we now have a little dish thing up there and can pick up as many television channels as we want.  Hundreds of television stations.  And they are all shite.

One of the really big innovations that has come along is the computer.  It is like a little television that is connected to a typewriter.  You type away on the typewriter and letters and things appear on the television screen.  There are things called programmes that you put in so that you can get it to do specific tasks, like calculate your tax bill or the best place to get Viagara.  The latter is another new innovation, but we’ll skip that for now.

Computers are wonderful things.  They can calculate things at unbelievable speeds and if you are lucky, they will actually give you the right answer before they crash.

You would have enjoyed the Interweb.  Somehow, they have managed to connect nearly all the computers in the world together so that you can sit in the living room and access unbelievable amounts of pornography and things like that.  Isn’t it wonderful the things they can do?

The house is much as you left it.  [That reminds me – I must get around to dusting it one of these days.]    We did put in central heating because Herself used to complain about breaking the ice in the kitchen sink before she could wash herself.  I also finally got around to replacing that blown bulb in the lobby.

The garden is nearly the same too.  I have even cut the grass a few times.  I’m afraid the field of raspberries is gone now, but I think you would approve of the crop that is now growing there.

I have tried to look after the place as you would have wished.  I think you would be happy with my efforts.

If ever you decide to try to contact the living, do give me a shout.  I miss our chats.  If I’m not in at the time, you can always get me on my mobile [Yup – we carry our telephones around in out pockets these days] or leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

I miss you.

Your loving son.

G

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