The Right Horrible Gentleman.

Don't mind the gap; it's mainly due to laziness on my part.

Anyway, politicians.

Politicians in our society should be role models. People who's attitudes are noble and who's actions are honourable. We, as citizens, should want to aspire to be like them. We should admire them and their lifestyle.

With that in mind I've decided to screw every penny I can from the system and from my friends and family.

The other day I stole my friend's tobacco and soon I might claim every benefit, grant and payment from the government to which I am, technically, entitled. Even if I'm stretching the purpose of the scheme to breaking point I will claim anything which the law says I'm allowed.

I'll start with Incapacity Benefit. You see I sat in the lotus position in the pub for ten minutes the other day and my leg hurts (I think I pulled a hamstring...). I was showing off and as such I deserve to have a sore leg but I've decided that I can get money for it so I'm gonna - just like my masters and role models would do.

I think I'll spend the money on a drawbridge.

Bumming!!!

I mentioned the Collings and Herrin podcasts a few months ago and, possibly a bit late, I thought I should point out that they are not for the comedically challenged.

At first listen you might think that it's a bit sick, then after a while you might be tempted to switch off and decry it as very sick indeed.

If you do that then you may well be the aforementioned humourless cunt. It's some of the best edgy satire around but the layers of irony can be difficult to reveal and the context all too easily forgotten. It might take a while to get used to the humour - think Derek and Clive - but don't take too long or keep listening if you don't like it - Richard won't like that.

Needlessly Delaying Procrastination

Well I got the plan for my essay done at home today, but I know fine well that I'd have done a lot more in the library and if I didn't have an essay to write I'd send a strongly worded letter to all three of my local councillors.

Maybe I'll send one when (if?) the essay gets written, or maybe there will be far too many distractions and I'll forget.

So now I have to find other time to do what I should have done today - which will eat into my planned procrastination time somewhat.

Now I'm not sure if planned procrastination is any kind of procrastination tbh because I'm pretty sure that one can only be procrastinating when one has something more important to do. In that case nothing qualifies - because procrastination is, for me, the most important activity possible - which leaves us with a logic problem.

Is it possible to procrastinate if procrastination is the most important thing in your life?

According to good ol' Wiklipedia however it has to be "counterproductive, needless, and delaying" so delaying alone isn't the issue and therefore I have to re-evaluate my favourite activity.

So I enjoy lounging now.

That'll do.

Poot Poot.

I have an essay to write and frankly I've been having trouble concentrating in my flat; partly because there are too many distractions vying for my attention and partly because it is VERY noisy here with the main road and so on.

So, with this in mind, I decided to study at the local library instead.

Unfortunately, the local library is now basically an internet cafe with a few books scattered around. There is not ONE single, solitary table for reference work or study.

Which is, in my opinion, a fucking disgrace.

Some Drugs are Bad, M'kay.

Cocaine is a killer.

It kills the folk who process it.

It takes 500g of leaves to produce 1g of cocaine, which is why coca chewing and coca tea (maté de coca) do not have the same dangers for the user. It would be impossible to consume coca quickly enough and in such a way that the alkaloids (l-ecgonine, cinnamyl cocaine and alpha and beta-truxillyl ecgonine if you give a fuck) were efficiently released into the blood in such a way as to get more than about 1/4 gram of active ingredient into the system in any 24 hour period.

Chewing coca and coca tea have more of a relaxing, clarifying effect and induce a positivity of mood. Think caffeine without, ironically enough, the jitteryness.

Coca leaves have been chewed and brewed in South America for over 5000 years with no ill effects.
However, to satisfy western demand for intensity, the leaves are processed so as to extract the cocaine.

The first stage involves dumping stripped leaves into a large plastic lined pit (which has to be hidden from the authorities naturally) and mixing them with dilute hydrochloric acid. The mixing is achieved by stomping around in the pit with the leaves and the acid. Sounds like fun right?

This stage produces (paste/pasta/paco) which is around 70% active ingredients. This intermediate stage is very common in the urban slums of South America. It is nasty stuff. Paco is as much of a problem in Buenos Aires since the 2001 collapse as Herion or Crack Cocaine were in US slums in the 80s/90s.

The second production phase is even more deadly. It is also quite complicated and I'm not sure I get the chemistry, but needless to say, it involves more acid as well as potassium permanganate and benzine. This produces a very [ure salt called cocaine hydrochloride.

The third phase is the creation of freebase or crack cocaine.

Smokable coke was developed by the pharmaceutical company Parke-Davies (now a subsidiary of Pfizer) in 1886 and marketed by them as the key ingredient of their 'coca-cigars' product line (incidentally, they also had a neat little vial/needle combo for cocaine injection on public sale too!).however this simply involved smoking the salt and this had the problem that the alkaloids would tend to degrade rather than vaporise.

This problem was solved 100 years later when a simple process involving baking soda and a microwave led to the crack epidemic we know ad loathe.

It kills the folk who fight over its profit.

The number of folk who are killed in the most horrific ways over 'territory' in the cocaine wholesale/retail business is astronomical. This is really more of a legality issue than a chemical one granted, but marijuana dealers aren't being tortured and executed are they?

It kills the folk who use it:

This is the part we already know.

The Tallest Dwarf.

How come you get weight divisions in boxing but you don't get height divisions in basketball?

I bet there are a few "Barry McGuigan of basketball" types around the world: folk who are shit-hot at the technical aspects of the game - can dribble and pass with the very best of them but never get anywhere because height is just so massively important in basketball- just as Barry could punch and duck with the best boxers, but, because weight and power are so closely related, he would have been beaten easily by someone like Tyson.

And just like boxing; the real money and glory would still be in the 'top' division where the tallest/heaviest reside, although we would still get to see 5ft players - just like we now get to see, and enjoy, 10st boxers.

Product.

When you use advertiser driven media what does that make you?

I mean, you would assume that you were the customer right?

Wrong. You are the product. You are being sold to the advertisers.

This has a few implications. Mainly that the media outlets want to deliver a suitable product (you) to their customers (the advertisers) meaning that advert driven media is designed to a) sell to the advertisers' by putting the media outlets' product (you remember) in a position of vegetation and thoughtlessness and b) the content has to appeal to that product (you) which is most attractive to advertisers.

The result of this is that the content of advertiser driven media is designed to appeal to idiots with more money than sense. All of it.

Enjoy.

Jim, is the Footie on the Telly?

I have a new favourite word. I've had a few of these over the years including; procrastinate, augment, big, fuck and wander.

These are all everyday words though - I at least knew how to pronounce them and there was little danger that I would forget them.

That's not the case with hypocoristicon (literally, "to use child-talk") meaning to give something a pet name (or, indeed, it may mean the pet name itself). I have only ever seen it written down so I have to guess at pronunciation and there is little chance that I'll be able to recall it in order to slip it into conversation!

In English this usually takes the form of adding a 'y' sound to the end of the first syllable of a longer word (such as 'telly' or 'footie' or 'Stevie') and is most often seen with first names. However there are some unusual hypocristicons too; like 'bess' for Elizabeth, 'Jim' for James, 'Jack' for John, etc.

The point is that, when I was younger, I wanted a pally, informal version of my name, but being called Mark makes that difficult. Some folk called me Marky, but I feel that this was more likely a reference to my acne ridden teenage skin than a friendly wee name.

So, to combine both, I've decided that my actual new favourite word is 'hypoie' which, I suppose, means something like: 'a bit like that which is under, only smaller' which as we all know is entirely without use as a unit of language and therefore meaningless.

Which sums up me-ness somewhat.

unFIT For Purpose.

The Mayday events throughout the country saw the mass adoption of a new tactic from demonstrators.

This involves concentrating on the FITs and making their intelligence gathering impossible, thus shorting out the Cops' flow of information.

This generally involves shoving and surrounding individual officers or units; however, as recent events have shown, it is life and limb at stake for those who choose to oppose our government now so there is maybe even a little bit of kicking involved.

Snatch-squads too are being interfered with which is positive news.

Just goes to show what can be achieved if people work together rather than competing.

Cheesless, Dreamless and Rested.

I had a dream about my glasses today, unfortunately my dream knew that they were broken and introduced them to me as having been freshly repaired; meaning that the dream did not become lucid, although it might have since I did do a double-take mid-dream.

I have yet to experience a lucid dream since I wrote about it. This is annoying, but on a plus side my sleeping patterns have been great since I stopped eating dairy. My doctor suggested that I might be lactose intolerant so I have been off dairy for about three weeks now (man I miss cheese!!) and I'm not getting the stomach problems and trouble 'switching off' that were keeping me awake before.

But like I said, this is tempered by the disappointing disappearance of lucid dreams. I'm not sure if this is because my digestive system isn't being overworked in the night or because I'm getting more sleep although I suspect that it is the latter.

I might have to indulge my passion for cheese, take the digestive consequences and see if I can dream a little dream sometime. Apart from a few more trips to the loo for a few days after I think it'll be worthwhile!!

Erishkigal Ate my Homework.

A rather uneventful train journey spent reading the stuff I picked up at the British Museum. Spent the second half of the journey wishing I'd remembered to charge my mp3 player.

It turns out that the Queen of the Night is probably Ishtar's (Inanna's) sister, Erishkigal - Queen of the Underworld (Irkalla), whose main temple was 25km from Babylon.

This is a shame because even though the underworld and shit is pretty goth; I liked the idea that a 3000/4000 year old brothel had been found! (Ishtar is the goddess of sexual love, war and fertility - which tells us a lot about the Mesopotamian mentality I think you'll agree...)

There is no Such Place as London?

I made my way all the way up London on Public Transport and thought I'd made it ubtil just before I got onto the last leg, turned the corner at Euston underground and was faced with massive gates over the entrance to the line I wanted. Further investigation revealed a notice saying that the line was closed for the Bank Holiday weekend. Poo!

So I had to get back onto the line I took here and go one stop further to get on the Train Replacement Bus. Which turned out OK and I was only an hour late to meet K at Walthamstow - which, to coin a phrase, is really alright.

North London - even as far out as E17 - is pretty different to South London. In the north you are more likely to be stabbed than shot for one thing.....

South London is generally more 'street' basically.

Lazy Days

Today was mostly taken up by a barbecue and lounging around in a hammock with cats.

There is, in my opinion, no better way to spend an evening.

Is the Queen Ishtar?

Went to the British Museum with my mate K today.

It was a gorgeous day and not really the kind of weather for museum visits so we decided to only visit the rooms I had planned. This was especially handy since K hadn't visited those rooms when he was at the museum a fortnight before.

We went to the Assyrian rooms (6-10) where I wanted to see Ashurnasirpal II's stuff - particularly his human/bull statues but also the reliefs that once decorated his palaces.

The main reason I was there though was to see some of the stuff they have from Ur and the Queen of the Night , a relief which probably stood in a brothel 3,000 years ago. Not only is it beautiful and alluring (she, as I said to K at the time, has lovely tits), but it is also a sign of everyday life at the birth of civilisation and I like those more everyday things just as much as the grand 3 metre statues that guard palaces. The crude statues of wide eyed worshippers left as offerings tell me more about life in cities 5,000 years ago than massive stone bull-men.

Having said that, the massive statues are lovely too.

I bought a guidebook and a wee book about the Queen of the Night at the giftshop. I wanted a poster of the Standard of Ur 'cos it's lovely, but there weren't any posters so I was disappointed for a wee bit, but then K got his mate who works at the museum to ring my stuff through and I got 30% off so I soon cheered up!

Had a spliff next to the BM's lovely lawn and went for a pint in Soho after three hours 'cos it was too good a day for being lost in a museum.