Progress

I just came across this IM I sent in 2008 in answer to the question "why are you so cross?":

I am in my mid-forties and have achieved none of my half-arsed goals. The man I see in the mirror is liked a tired, fat version of my Dad, which is not how I naturally feel inside. I seem unable to inspire or help you in your various struggles. I have lost the prop of my faith, which at least used to keep me unreasonably optimistic. My daughter is growing up fast, reminding me that the past is dead, and that I am, ultimately, dying. I note that the world at large generally fails to appreciate my brilliance, which annoys me and yet at the same time feeds my "told you everything is crap" mentality. AND my feckin' ear is blocked.

I can now report, dear reader, some progress, in that my ear is no longer blocked. Onwards and upwards.

What Is The WOCOTD?

In a no-doubt-doomed-to-failure attempt to inspire myself update the blog regularly, I am instituting an occasional daily feature: v0idation's Word Or Concept Of The Day, or WOCOTD, if you will. In an interestingly self-referential way, this idea could actually be its own first item, but that seems a little too bleakly ironic for a Tuesday. So my inaugural Word Or Concept Of The Day will be...
LYCRANTHROPE.

A typical Lycranthrope display.


No, not lycanthrope, meaning werewolf, but LYCRANTHROPE, meaning, essentially, were-cyclist. One who transforms into a brightly-coloured two-wheeled menace at the slightest provocation. He typically arrives this way at work, and then after disappearing into a toilet, stairwell or large cupboard, reappears looking normal and human again. In the afternoon he will stop working a little before everybody else to give himself time for "the change". As well as the colourful plumage, the typical lycranthrope wears an expression of self-righteousness and disdain in the face of his tubbier, shamefully motorised colleagues.

Dark Lord of Ventolin

I was walking with small A to school this morning, when we noticed Edward Scissorhands on the path behind us. Far from being alarmed, A said "I think he's wearing a wig, Daddy". It soon became clear that Edward Cardboardfingers would be a better name for him, and after clocking several refugees from Fame and two giant bananas we deduced that the local high school must be having some sort of non-uniform day.

I dropped A off at school and started back, past a few footballers, some mad scientists and one guy in a purple morphsuit. I had mentally awarded the best outfit prize to a Mexican cowboy when I heard heavy asthmatic breathing coming from just around the corner. As I rounded the bend I came face-to-face with none other than Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, dressed from head to toe in black velveteen and sporting a homemade cardboard helmet covered in silver foil. The poor guy (or girl - hard to tell really) was wheezing like a clogged hoover (which put me in mind of that other Dark Lord), but the overall effect was outstanding, and full marks to you, whoever you are. Kudos! You made me smile. Who says the youth of today lack imagination?

Wait, though...what if it wasn't a kid from the school...

Of Mice And Monkeys

After reading this news item yesterday, I find myself checking my own sliced bread for murine stowaways. It's not at all likely that I'll find any, but something in my psyche makes me look anyway. It's the herd alarm signal - it's why you feel compelled to check the house for spiders after watching Arachnophobia. Anyway, is it only me who feels a little bit sorry for the poor mouse? Going about his business, finding a few crumbs to keep body and soul together, finding a nice warm, dry room full of delicious bread and then WHOMP! Game over. He's medium sliced. I believe they never did find his tail - which must worry the guy who'd already eaten some of the loaf.

Today, there's an even better animal story. It seems that the beleaguered organisers of the Delhi Commonwealth Games are employing langurs as monkey security guards to patrol various venues. Apparently there's been a serious monkey problem in Delhi for years, which can't be effectively dealt with as a significant proportion of the population consider them sacred. The answer - bring in bigger monkeys to scare off the smaller ones. But what if the small monkeys get wise to this and hire themselves some chimps as bodyguards? Then they'll have to send in the gorillas to protect the langurs. Worrying times for those concerned about a simian arms race.

Ok, I'm going to go and take my medication now. After checking the house for monkeys, of course.

She Stopped Blinding Me With Science Due To Funding Cuts

Once again, the politicians are trying to kill us with their myopic worldview. I know we need to make funding cuts, but leave science alone!

The UK currently contributes about 10% of the world's scientific output, with only about 1% of the world's population. We're good at it. We have a long history of innovation and engineering excellence. But this is under serious threat from swingeing cuts.

Science is vital because we have evolved culturally beyond our ability to live without it. Turn off electric power, and our society will fail, as banking, medical services and communication all become impossible. Half of us can’t even see straight without wearing a device to correct our vision. We can’t find our own food, or clothe ourselves, or defend ourselves. We have forgotten how. Our increasing sophistication makes us more and more dependent on a precarious platform of technology, supported by a relatively tiny number of knowledgeable people.

Please don’t bring our civilisation even closer to collapse by cutting bits off our only functioning crutch!

One Less Pope

I am usually a fan of the BBC's news site, but I think they might have got this a bit wrong:

It seems to be implying that the front five members of the Pontiff's personal motorcycle display team are in some way linked to "Pope terror". Surely not.

I am a little disappointed with the Pope's UK holiday so far. Yes, one of his cronies said Britain was a Third World country, and yes, he's been spouting the usual laughable nonsense about how the Nazis were atheists, therefore secularism is terribly dangerous (a non-sequitur based on a generally untrue premise), but he hasn't done anything really loony or interesting yet.

Today he was busy Pontiff-icating in front of a load of kids bussed in from all over the country. Can you imagine how thrilled they all were? I for one would have liked him to have taken the opportunity to do a little juggling, or maybe sing a chorus of Wonderwall in that gentle German lisp that unaccountably puts me in mind of Laurence Olivier in Marathon Man. Or show us all his sense of humour with a quick balloon dog made out of condoms.

But no. What are we all paying for? Somehow I can't help feeling we'd all be better off with just one less Pope on our backs.

Lack of community spirit

I am one of that select band of individuals whose precious lunch hour today was briefly interrupted by a pirate. Rather a weedy-looking, myopic pirate if I'm honest, but he did have the full gear, including a plastic cutlass. However, rather than slit my gizzard he chose merely to deliver a leaflet inviting me to give up my scarce free time in order to clean up some crummy beach I've never been to.

I confess, my timbers were far from shivered. I don't like these "hey, we're a caring company, so why not come out of hours and do some back-breaking community work with people you've never met at a place you don't care about" events. And call me a surly old son of a sea dog, but the prospect of doing it dressed as a pirate does not have the desired effect of making the whole tedious enterprise seem like fun.

After all, community service is for young offenders - and Boy George.