'Fools' said I

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...

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Don't say it.
I know I said this place was dead, and I stand by that... the crappy poll is all the proof anyone should need. Anyway, I'm posting... y'know, considering Tongs is sort of a deity he'd better address his flock... or space cadets? Do you prefer that?

So cadets... lately bitching about 'UNUSversity Syndrome'... yes, that is Latin humour, and I know, I've lost my edge, seems to be the direction these posts are going so I'm jumping on the bandwagon.


'Hi! I'm Matt! I really hate the way 'I'm' flows effortly into my first name, I also hate the monosyllabic abbreviation and the annoying alliteration between my first and last name my parents didn't think about. It's heavily indicative of a inclination towards self loathing... wha? You DON'T innaccurately psychoanalyse everyone you meet with your shameless self taught discredited knowledge?. This laughably uncharacteristic enthusiasm is causing my kidneys to rebel with all they've got, so the wincing is me having my own hyper acidic urine shot straight to my heart, not the fact that I don't want to be here. By the way, it's acidic because I eat bizarre stuff for attention!! I have a book, I write poems in said book like a homosexual infantryman. Did I mention my musical tastes span over half a millennium? Yeah, I don't shake hands like that... but thanks? Later do you want to get tea and I can throw the topic of my own suicide around like it's Freud's entire psychoanalytic theory! HAHAHAHA!! OK, awesome, wait, I feel morose and morbid... you realise you're wrong because you believe in things right? Yeah, it's better to play the nonchalant nihilist... by the way... I can hypnotize people... and I hallucinate... ALOT, if you see me looking at your feet it's me making sure they're rooted to the ground so it's safe to talk to you out loud. Oh it's your friends! This is hard enough as it is, so you're cool with me flatly ignoring them out of social ineptitude and not wanting to start another of these conversations? That's cool I feel like blogging anyway, it's this crazy thing where I just angst out hard beans of solid wisdom that people awkwardly stumble across and seek to leave the quickest way they can. Oh, these guys I know praise me wildly for it too, temporarily reversing the inferiority/superiority complex!'

Honesty is the worst policy imaginable. We are a bunch of filthy awesome liars.

Well if this proves anything apart from the fact that if this guy can even have people who'd consider themselves FACEBOOK 'friends' shows a world heading in the wrong direction, it's me desperately and weakly concealing the fact that I. CANNOT. MEET. PEOPLE. IN. REAL. LIFE. OK, some weird guy you end up stuck tolerating on MSN or something says he taught himself hypnotism, yeah that's messed up, but we'll run with it. But when he leans over the table and stares right into your eyes licking his lips saying he can inhibit a state of 'suggestibility' in you... your mind starts to come up with it's own conclusions... completely ignoring the fact that I only really use it to sleep, trip out while still being able to give a Lower Murray Livestock Award winning urine sample and lock my legs up for the associated and deeply subjective humour of developing a temporary subconscious barrier to movement...

Establishing people is difficult, eccentricities are the spice of life itself, to lose them would have me locked in a french kiss with a 12 gauge... Uuugh... But you know it's okay when you at least have someone who knows all that crazy junk you're gonna pull... and how to sedate you when the paranoia kicks in etc.

YEAH WELL I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU.

I only have those people who already avoid me for said eccentricities. I'm up there failing solo... and disturbingly beginning to like it. I'll be honest, I type more words than I actually say. Sad, but grossly true. I am becoming a uni loner and revelling in it. I might as well be taking a vow of silence, actually, I've always wondered whether if monks and stoners and overweight metal heads and stuff take vows of silence, does that replace chastity for 48 hours so they can basically go for whatever isn't secured with the gift of consent?... and from behind and in the dark for everything that is?... But I digress, the point is, I'm back to that annoying stage where I show up at a gathering and lose my voice in 20 minutes because I'm not getting the valuable vocal exercise McDonald's isn't endorsing? I think it's fantastic to see that fast food mega corporations are picking up the government's slack, it's harmony the only way we could realistically hope for... through mutual indifference towards everything that doesn't hold stock value...

I spend my breaks now in the park writing, in my zen garden watching people and subjecting them to my scathing, hypocritical mental criticisms or letting birds and stuff land on me. Seriously happened, I feel like the hispanic guy from Captain Planet... who NEVER really had any point where his power could solve something fire couldn't, he was the writer's cynical attack on Mexican laxness concerning automotive pollution. Yeah they're trying the best they can, AMERICA *HOO-RAH!* is fixing the problem with 9% of households fitted with energy saving lightglobes (WHICH ARE COOL, DON'T BELIEVE THE HATE. SERIOUSLY THEY'RE A TENTH AS BRIGHT AS NORMAL FAUNA SLAYING GLOBES, WHICH IS BRILLIANT FOR GLOOMY MOOD LIGHTING!!), Lots of bright posters and a dude who can just burn anyone who tries to preach global warming like the heretic's deceit it is. Hmm, so forced humour aside, I'm reaching the sad stage where it's eight weeks in and no demographic will give my scarred, barren pelvis a second look...

I've got to be really honest here though. I can't really say I care. I can do what I want, when I want and don't have to put up with someone bitching for the sake of it, then when presented with the outcome, eats half of it in finally excessive acknowledgement that wasted an hour and a half and in that disgusting inebriated way that can make even NACHO LASAGNE!!! *crosses self and bows to the west* look unappetizing... So yeah, it's cool with me, I don't see what you guys are all bitching about...

RIGHT! The exponential increase in the degrees of sanity separating us! Well, because this is 2010, and all roads lead back to facebook... the new update adds nicotine... look at your TRIPLE DIGIT list of friends... now let's be realistic, there're a few you just deal with by thinking of amazing self esteem raping retorts you could theoretically deliver. But seriously that's alot of people, look how many are online... click one... Start a GODDAMN conversation. For a bunch of people who sleep with phonebooks reaching for the 900 mark to complain about not having anyone is mighty annoying. There is a number, dial it. TALK. For the love of Pleroma, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I can guarantee someone else in this solitary confinement the bastards in suits call polite society will have no problem with picking up.

Just leave the naively romantic, lone wolf style to the professionals is all I ask. *winks and bows*

Can you be sure you're reading this?...

I'm back again, inspired by Damacus's feeble attempts to reignite the collective interest of our four readers, and my regular procrastination from the three vacuous white blobs of paper void of any visible attempts to begin writing the three 1000 word essays expected from me when i return to uni. *takes deep breath after reading that sentence aloud*... As we should all know by now, blogging is the quintessential medium for evading reality, whilst still being able to salvage some deluded sense of validity and connection with the outside world. With this in mind, i decided that i would do a little bit of soul searching in this blog and yes you can listen in. I know that half of you have nothing you would rather spend your time doing than satisfying your odd voyeuristic tendencies by reading my progression into perpetual confusion.
The thing is, i really can't expect you all to get where i'm coming from because really i can't be sure that you all exist. You're all possibly figments of my senses, perhaps you don't really inhere in, or belong to a physical world, but instead you're just effects of my mind... There are some people for whom i truly wish this was so, then maybe i could just drink a shitload of methylated spirits with orange juice..CLASSY! or inject a dose of horse tranquilizer and BAM i'd just forget who they were.
Maybe god gets me... hey maybe he's sitting up on his throne of diamonds (i really don't actually know how comfortable that would be to be honest but it does evoke a nice image doesn't it) thinking "you know i get this guy, all i needed in my omniscient existence is another kid who thinks he's a deep thinker but really he can just use a fuckload of adjectives to embellish a sentence so it resembles something close to a coherent stringing together of words." But alas, here we come to obstacle number two - the existence of God is about a fickle concept as they come. Now, we could traverse around the issue, or we could do a Hannibal of Carthage and say "fuck it, you know we're going to take these thousand elephants and cross the mountains - it'll be far more fun that way and everyone loves fun!" And we all know how that ended, Hannibal marched into Rome as fresh as a daisy, uzis blazing and raped the Romans for everything they had fathering 40,000 children and incurring a three century dynasty of little Hannibals until Napoleon Bonaparte stumbled on Rome in 574AD and told the Carthaginians they had little choice but to work for little to no pay under strict apartheid rule. And that ladies and gentlemen is the history of how black slavery came about in Modern Europe...a good blog post is never complete without a flagrant disregard for any legitimate referencing - who needs facts when we have wikipedia?
Mmmm I digress... so yeah I was discussing the whole "god thing" with a friend of mine the other day and "god" is one of those subjects that consistently spurs me into a raging, horned cynic. Frankly, i haven't really ascertained exactly what it is about the idea that irks me the most, but i think it's mostly the rabid hypocrisy that every modern church has and still does display in the history of monotheistic religion as we know it. I mean in all honesty, it only takes a modicum of reflective thought to realise that religion as we know it is about as flawed and ignorant as is possible within reason. I may be a bias, ignorant prick but i do recognise the distinction between faith and religion and yes religion is very separate from faith, but i think the idea of human centred religion is so outdated it has become redundant in a modern context.
The Scientologists are one of the few modern religious institutions with a system of beliefs that is not only ultimately relevant to existence as we perceive it, but also with a founder that has the credibility to truly understand and contemplate the enormous complexities of the universe and our place in it.

Anyway, i have to cut this short as i have to go out and buy a cask of goon so that hopefully by the end of it i'll have forgotten the existence of a few people....

Yours sincerely,
Frank-Lee, A. Musing.

Lady Gaga: Whore of Babylon

Hey kids!

After his wife started getting bunches of flowers and hams of condolence in the mail, American author Mark Twain (one part Colonel Sanders, two parts Straight Oscar Wilde, no parts Shania) famously told a newspaper "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." When Alfred Nobel, French dynamite-inventor and arms-manufacturer, read his own prehumous obituary claiming that  "The merchant of death is dead", he was so upset that he started the Nobel Prize, hoping to leave a legacy that made someone other than the Mythbusters happy. John Partridge, a shoemaker turned astrologer with half the style of John Edwards and all the credibility, had a prediction of his death published by satirist Jonathon Swift, followed by an obituary a few months later. When Partridge tried to convince everyone that he was actually still, you know, alive, nobody believed him. You'd think he would have seen it coming.

A little-known fact about Mark Twain is that his moustache outlived him by six years, becoming a vice-treasurer for the American Baseball Negro League until it's death at the battle of the Somme.

Similalalalalarly, I've heard some our morbid-minded blog family muttering that D.I.D a Mess is as dead as house-flattened witch, and that we should quickly take our ruby slippers and click our heels back to Facebook before some little bitch comes along, steals them and starts gallivanting about in technicolour glory. Well I say, NO! This blog is still extraordinarily healthy, my pretties, and I'll get you and your little dogs too if you say a word otherwise. What? You think I'm turning into some kind of ridiculous blog tyrant? Your lack of faith disturbs me. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. The struggle for world domination will be fought entirely between us, between Germans and Jews. ...Actually, ignore that last one.

(By the way Crucible Tongs, sorry, I'm joking, I'd never challenge your Freudian Floydian Blog dictatorship.)

Seriously though, this blog is still going strong. We had 9 posts last month, which is still heaps more than most blogs I know, and I think we're getting the variety right. I maintain that it won't be dead until no-one had posted for two months. But if there actually is anyone who does read this, we'd get all inspiredy if you dropped us a comment, even if it's just vicious abuse! What do you prefer? Pictures? Pithy? Profound? Informative? (ewww damacus, stop trying to vomit half-chewed wikipedia trivia into our collective lap.) Please disagree with us, or agree with us, or not care. WHAT DO WE NEED TO DO GET YOUR ATTENTION?!  Dress up in nine foot avatar suits and start having tail-sex? Personally murder Ray Comfort and hide his banana-smeared cadaver under your bed? Stuff coke cans in our hair and whore ourselves to the music industry?

And so we come, as we inevitably must, to the tenuous segue.

I hate Lady Gaga.

I know this is a controversial topic, and I am very much in the minority. Just the other day I had a very inebriated argument about this that nearly came to blood. I can hear the sharpening of stakes as I type, and the stuffing of mop-headed me effigies all ready for burning. I wouldn't be surprised if some deranged Gaga fanatic is planning to blow up the Danish Embassy right now because of my blasphemy.

Lady Gaga, aka Stefani Germanotta, has become incredibly popular over the last year for her own personal brand of weirdly-dressed neo-Madonna pap. Even the normally cynical seem to have a soft spot for the self-proclaimed cultural icon. Gushing journalists and the blogotariat, desperate for something that even slightly resembles a generation-defining figure also seem to go ludicrously gaga over the lady. (Bet you haven't read that pun before!) They read a lot more into pseudo-postmodernism and vain posing than is really there, just because she looks a little bit different. For example, an online reporter claimed:

"Her lyrics were symbolic of both the feminine mystique and female empowerment."

...Really? We're talking about the same woman who has said in interviews:

''I think it's great to be a sexy, beautiful woman who can f--- her man after she makes him dinner. There's a stigma around feminism that's a little bit man-hating."

...and...

"I'm not a feminist - I, I hail men, I love men."

"I hail men".... If that's what passes for feminism in the 21st century, then Germaine Greer is audibly rolling in her grave. Yes, I know that line is a little bit dodgy – technically she sleeps in a crypt. But either way, Gaga's ridiculous persona is little more than burlesque attention-seeking coupled with a bloated sense self-importance; I remember seeing her on an interview on Rove where she was devoid of humour and acted like... an arrogant, standoffish 23 year old in a stupid dress. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to move into a self-indulgent tirade about What's Wrong With Modern Music.

A 16th century Russian engraving of the Whore of Babylon

Germanotta's shows and film clips, all of which can be seen on youtube, offer the same extravagant mega-budget over-choreographed ridiculousness of Britney Spears at her worst, coupled with the same vacuous glibness. What is it with these people and feeling that they can't go anywhere without being escorted by a dozen oiled up dancers wearing matching rhinestone codpieces? Britney Spears, Jessica Simpson, J Lo, Ke(dollar sine)ha and so many others... why does being blond, connected, somewhat attractive and having a modicum of talent guarantee you a spot on the global charts as long as you have a big-league manager with enough computer equipment to make it sound as if you can sing? That's not to mention the thousands of ultra-repetitive, lyrically idiotic, musically cretinous, misogynistic mass-produced pieces of nightclub fodder (Damn! Your a sexy bitch) that litter our radio airwaves. How do the most agonisingly inane strands of MTV spawn often manage to proliferate so cancerously? How does that song that you hate on the radio contribute in any way to the culture, ideas, philanthropy, the environment, the economy, inspiration or the betterment of humankind? Every time you listen to a Gaga song, you're emptying a watermelon cruiser into the crystal well of human achievement.

That's just your personal taste, Damacus, stop being such a snob. Well a few points there. Firstly, though tastes are mostly personal, judgment isn't exclusively subjective: we can agree with a fair bit of certainty that Shakespeare is better than Stephanie Myer, and Van Gogh isn't just as artistically significant as a five year old's doodlings. A few drug-addled disco-fiends might love Xanadu, but that doesn't mean that's it good. But even if judging something on it's artistic or literary merits isn't entirely a personal thing, then surely entertainment value is? Well, kind of. If we had equal access to various music, then how much you enjoy dancing to it is perfectly valid. But when we are constantly blasted with a certain song through tv, radio, the internet and venues, a degree of pack mentality, and sheer exposure, means that more often and not we will be forced to warm to it and the song proliferates. Often we only enjoy certain songs because media and corporations  have decided that they want us too, and we don't really have a choice. I've happily danced to Tik Tok enough times to know that that's well and truly the case.

Back to her so-called ladyship. I'll give her credit, at least for writing her own lyrics, but I'm not gonna give her credit for writing good lyrics. If you actually look at them, the words in Gaga's songs are trite, mega-repetitive (In a single song, there are 19 uses of the word 'telephone', and one use of the word *shudder* "burb") and full of truly awful innuendos.

"Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin

I'm not lying I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunning"

...Muffin? Glue-Gun? It's like a crap porn script written by the cast of Better Homes & Gardens.

With that, I leave you. Toodles.

Ques, Rain and Mouse Traps

So here I sit both absolutely furious and catastrophically spent. After three and bit months of twenty ten I have started to discover its pattern of periodically providing a glimpse of hope followed by an inevitable spitting in face. It’s that rude family member of my many years of life who won’t be forgotten due to their everlasting imprint on my psyche. So yes I apologize just as I do at the beginning of all my other blogs but this time not for poor writing and grammar that has now become a given; this time you will be enjoying slash ignoring a personal rant on my failing social interactions and quest for a somewhat true form of happiness.

This quite obviously is not a selection of spontaneous feelings so I shall tell you the little story that has sparked this collection of words. Tonight was a night spent in ques to get into pubs and clubs whilst standing in the pouring rain. It went for a whole three hours at the end of which I did not enter a single venue and just left in utter frustration. Most of this time was spent alone due to a decision to partially uphold a prior commitment... something I somewhat regret. Why was I not allowed to enjoy myself tonight? What is it that has decided I am no longer permitted to experience happiness?

I am quite aware that I have bountiful amounts of material wealth available to myself and should be quite happy with all I have got but material joy does not exist to me. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy all the things I have most of which I have slaved away for corporate giants just to afford and maintain their phony pleasure that they bring. It is just in the end I am not happy for them because for some reason it has been decided that I cannot find emotional happiness. I have friends but I guess in the end we all need that something more to supply the drug like feeling of lust and love something my current glass of scotch can’t even fix.

So it comes down to being lonely I guess. A void very difficult to fill and almost certainly not something we can count on happening on a weekly basis. When we cannot find someone or something to fill a gap we just end up counting too much on the dreams that we cannot make material wealth create our happiness and cure and loneliness. It now makes sense why I spend so much time working and am always trying to develop such grand plans for myself because it simply just is all to fill a void. A gap in my person and my identity and sadly this scotch is not going to fix it.

Wallowing in my own self pity is not helping but after so many knock backs and failures where do you start. If you failed this many times at doing anything else you would just give it up and move onto something else but this is life I am talking about here you just can’t look for a different kind. Where do you even find out what it is your doing wrong because there must be something I am not repulsed by myself so I cannot be that bad of a person?...

Another failed night passes and I once again sit in front of this brightly light screen burning the back of my retinas and most likely giving myself some form of cancer just by living. When will it end or will it ever? I think it is just time to join eHarmony to find my compatible soul mate and get it over and done with because I sure as hell am not having any success otherwise which I am sure is just the same as a lot of the rest of you.