Category: Questionable Observations

Questionable Observations from my eyes

Categories
Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Is Country Music A Real Danger?

Country music is sneaky and fuckin manipulative.  This may sounds like an odd statement but in my experience, it’s becoming like a very subtle form of crack that slowly pulls you in and gets you addicted with a sense of defeat and developing shame.  Actually, it’s possibly more like opiate based painkillers but lets not get caught up on the accuracy on poor analogies as it detracts from the point which is my sinking addiction into this bizarre genre.

I love flicking across the music channels on my telly box and have done since we got our first shitty cable box which had a peppering of shit channels and then other channels with tunes.  Music videos are just amazing: They’re visual additions to someone’s masterpiece.  As the channel numbers grew, a country channel then appeared.  This was a bit different and very soon I would always have a good laugh with it’s very simple music beats and chords, poor shows with bad filming and incompetent hosts and substandard music videos.  Most of the videos seemed to be about someone’s lost love, dead dog or dead log that they loved.  The astounding simplicity of it was hilarious, but over the last 12 months there’s been a weird evolution.  I’m finding it soothing and comforting.  I gently rock from side to side when it’s on as if I’m a resident in a care home. 

It’s scaring the shit out of me; it represents a decline; a sense of aging and a sense of loss.  Will I no longer be blasting out 90’s house or rock music.  Will this slight comfort become stronger and stronger where I become a country fan.  I quite fancy having a cowboy hat tbf, and maybe a bit of line dancing would be fun.  But just a bit of it; I do not want to adopt this as part of my identity.

As always, my infuriating anxieties are linked to losing control and fearing becoming mediocre.  Ultimately, this fear is possibly projected feelings linked to the recognition that mediocrity exists within me.  But then again, we can’t always be extreme at all times but I reject the idea of declining into being average and being just like everyone else.  Obviously parts of my life are mundane and average but I fear being a non-entity.  As such, there’s overcompensation.  My alcohol habits both serve to allow me to escape my inner frustrations and feel like I’m not watching shit like Strictly or I’m A Celeb on weekend evenings.  But now maybe I’ll be getting pissed and practising line dancing. 

Categories
Questionable Observations

The truth is an illusion – it’s actually not real!

Being human is wonderfully bizarre; full of contradiction and confusion.

The truth is subjective; it’s personal to you.  It’s an illusion and is only loosely based on your reality.  Actual reality is the confusing complex combobulation of centuries of uncoordinated activities hashing together in the chaos of the world. It’s far beyond our comprehension so to make sense of it, we create our own simplistic version of it which we call the truth. 

In seeking sense and order maybe we can find meaning and purpose?  This is an arduous endeavour into confusion and turmoil to try and make sense of our contradictory and infinitely disarrayed world.  So we stick with conformity and simple pleasures; and why not, our minds probably aren’t capable of conceptualising what’s actually going on. 

Why do we have to know what the actual truth is?  Why can’t we accept that we’ll never know?  Can we only be at peace once when we can believe our version of the truth, therefore giving ourselves meaning in this meaningless world.  Marx stated that the truth can only be real if it is tested and proved in practise.  That all sounds great but one person’s interpretation of the results will differ from another so which is the truth?

As human’s we’re annoyingly curious and people labelled as conspiracy theorists tend to be avidly curious.  We seek the truth – we want to know what’s really going on! 

Or at least we think we do.  We succumb to the dumbing down of conforming to lead an easier life so we create our own truth.  The truth isn’t factual about what’s actually going on.  The truth is just congruent with our experiences and fits with our interpretation of the information we’re fed.  This interpretation will always be flawed which creates even further deviation away from what’s real especially when the information we’re fed is exaggerated and manipulated to fit someone’s belief or ideal.  This belief or ideal could be a journalist, dictator, government or whoever is seeking to sell it. 

Once we create our truth, we then find ways to reinforce this.  We don’t like our belief to be questioned as it messes with our fragile minds so we aggressively defend them, sometimes to the death.  How our forefathers will see us a bunch of primitive twats who went to war to kill each other because some of us think our make-believe God is better than others’. 

So no wonder we’re all confused wondering what the fuck is going on.  To help us make sense and for us to live as a mass of beings, society creates conformity to swoop in like a crazy narcissistic super-hero to brainwash us into the bliss of believable ignorance.  And we all love a bit of bliss!  With ignorance, we can live our lives simply – work, buy, consume and die whilst spawning to replace ourselves in the hope that they’ll be able to a better job.  Whether we’re controlled by bots, reptiles or the world is just part of an intergalactic game we may never know. So we have our conformity and our creation our version of truth as it allows us to make some sense.

Categories
Questionable Observations

A New Blog – The Definite Truth

There’s a fab new blog called – Definite Truth. Please read and like and follow (if you like it) – The Definite Truth

It looks at the absurd side of being wonderfully human and look to challenge convention and conformity.  They claim that everything written  could be true.

Big Love from Me x

Categories
Questionable Observations

Hail the FarSide

My desire for alternative thinking, love of psychology, deep intrigue into the human condition and my love of humour draws me to the Far Side.

Categories
Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations

Are All Posh People Twats?

Firstly, if you’re posh or feel that you may not be able to bear anti-posh literature then please stop reading.  My intention is never to offend btw, but as a human in this vast world trying to navigate my life to feel safe and happy whilst fulfilling my roles, they’ll be times when I piss people off and I’d rather it not be You today.

I know, if you’re anything like me, the concept that we might piss others off is a bit of shock.  Surely, it can’t be true because I’m perfect and everyone must like and approve of me.  I try to be a good person and my ridiculous insecurities push me try to avidly impress and please others so how could I possibly piss off others.  Evidently, quite easily at times.

So, are all posh people twats?  And by twats, I mean the stereotypical dim-witted arrogant overly privileged, overly-entitled floppy haired, monacle wearing buffoon, typified by Boris Johnson.

I came across this article which is definitely worth the read (after you’ve read my article first  you fabulous human – don’t leave me for another blog as you may discover that everyone is better and then you’ll never return and this could make me sad.  Stay until the end, honey).  Here’s the link for later – What Oxford Taught Me About Posh People

This article made me think about what I learnt about posh people when I came into contact with a bunch of them and I know you’ve probably just skim read it but don’t feel guilty, I forgive you.  I’m from a working-class background when class was a thing (probably last century) and uphold many of the values around this whether this be healthy or a conditioned reaction to doing what’s been ingrained in me and is familiar.  Things like having a low sense of entitlement; everything I have and want should be worked for rather than given or provided.  Also, we’re all equal as humans and giving and sharing is essential for well-being whether that be love, time, resources or energy. 

I’m not saying that every upper class or middle-class person wouldn’t uphold these values but in my life experience, the upper class have a tendency to be ridiculously naïve from their protected and privileged environment and the middle class tend to be overly self-protective twats who cover their insecurities by flaunting their assets and being very tight with their time and energies.  Obviously, there’s the potential that these observations are likely to be fed by my own insecurities and needs for acceptant so I re-affirm that I’m good being me with working class being part of me) and it I can prove I’m ok being me by labelling everyone else as a twat in some way.  If I’m not like those twats then I’m good.  Hurrahh.

So, to the posh and how they’re all twats although now I’ve ranted, the point seems a bit diluted really, but I shall seek to express it nonetheless.  So, it was about 2006 ish and I went with friends to Gay Pride in London and from some good fortune I had an access all areas wrist band which we used to gain entry to some bars and parties that would’ve been off limits otherwise.  These areas were reserved for the sponsors of the event, but it seemed evident, that the sponsors weren’t bothered and they sent their kids who were in their early to mid-20’s and generally posh.  They all seemed to be familiar with each other or maybe herded towards one another upon hearing the posh accent and seeing the sea of red trousers. 

Generally, they were a really good crowd to be around as they seemed fun and free and only a few seemed to distance themselves when they heard me speak.  What I quickly gathered though that most seem to uphold this belief that they’d be rich and would be successful in life, even though many seemed to be more naïve than the average distribution of the population[1] and naturally there were others that were the stereotypical Tim Nice But Dim.  This observation reinforced how their expectation is based on the conditioning of their lives and that’s generally true not matter who you are.  Their privilege may have got them into the best schools and provided an elite social world of posh opportunities.  This intrigued me and pissed me off due to the unfairness of this in that their destiny will be largely influenced by the family they were born into.  But then, like everyone, we live to our expectations and norms.  I guess it’s then our job to take that conditioning and do something great with it rather than allowing ourselves to be pushed down the expected avenues and be consumed by it all without really making an active decision: That unconsidered auto-pilot life where the same old generational patterns are blindly repeated.

On reflection of writing this, my resentment of people more privileged than I may be a little problematic. It certainly was when I was in early 20’s and attended the Henley Regatta, but that’s a post for another time.

[1] This is my mere observation that has no referenced research and by now you’re probably aware of my conditioned prejudices from my background.

Categories
Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations

Mediocrity is Just a Wanky Reaction to Society’s Need for us to Conform

Mediocrity enrages me especially when I see it in myself and in my own life.  The way society encourages and manipulates us to conform means that most people just give up and live on some shit autopilot planet of doing the 2.4 kids, 9-5 meaningless shit work and feel a bit wild by having half a glass of pinot while listening to Coldplay.

It’s such a soft and submissive response to allow your life to be dictated to where you go through the day without purpose until you die, just to leave your offspring to do the same.  Does society need these ant-like characters to exist to keep it going. I guess it does in society’s present form but then it’s that self-feeding system where nothing changes.  Society runs well because people conform but then many lose their identity as they’re swallowed up and rewarded for being just like everyone else.  The most obvious rewards from peer and societal approval and a monthly salary that is just enough to fulfil your needs but not enough to feel secure enough to break free from the rat race.  But that doesn’t really matter, as you’re so conditioned to accept your place in society, that even if you could afford to not work, you wouldn’t have fucking clue what else to do.  Obviously the conspiracy theorist twats will see this all the government’s doing where they control us to fund their lifestyles but at least they have the bollocks to question what’s going on and they don’t automatically accept the spoon of mediocrity so readily.

Like most of our annoyances, they’re born out of our own relationship with them and fear of them.  So I fear being a mediocre twat and it concerns me when I see evidence of this in myself and there’s a lot of fucking evidence tbf.  I live in a suburban semi, have kids, a wife, pets and spend too much time on social media or watching shit on telly because I’m too tired from working to provide the mediocre life to do anything else on most evenings.  Pre-adult mediocrity, I went out more, explored more and felt less of a need for routine and structure to keep me grounded.  Now I’m emotionally attached to these things and feel out of control should something slip or alter.  I’ve unwittingly become a victim of conditioning.

So to be more free means engaging in my identity more?  Being expressive and creative. I shall write ‘I love Coldplay’ in large letters in the road in my own shit as a first step and see how this feels.  I may have to save my bodily waste product for few days which may not be pleasant and if this becomes my signature art style it’s possible that I’ll lose the said wife and suburban comfort. Maybe that’s the test I need: To lose it to see if I’d miss the world I’ve been conditioned to create.

Categories
Questionable Observations

Revolving Conflict

It’s been far too long since the last post and far too long since my brain has meandered through the corridors of my existence.  When writing a post, I start with a basic idea that’s on my mind and then the fingers wander around the keyboard until it’s published on the weblog and I spend some anxious times thinking about how shit it is, that it’s futile and just stupid (all of which are reflective on parts of my self-esteem I imagine) before my mind is distracted with a new stressor that gazumps in.

And so to start …..There are endless emotional and logical conflicts that affect my noodle and the one that’s dancing about my synapses today is fight between giving myself permission to relax and do nothing (logical choice) versus the need to do something of worth with my time all of the time (emotional/anxiety based need).  This can be to do anything that means I can justify my time and can range from food shopping for the family, mowing the lawn or I even think digging a hole and filling it in would stop me feeling the guilt of doing nothing.

I’m sure I’m not the only one that punishes themselves ridiculously – Well I fuckin hope I’m not.  So let’s imagine that You – the reader does this and that you’re the only one in the entire world that has these ridiculous inner conflicts.  Everyone else in the world is logical and self-assured; living an emotionally torture-free life whereas you are different from everyone else as you constantly tie yourself in anxious knots forever fuelled by your overthinking.  Not only that, you’re also being broadcast to everyone else’s social media to remind them not to be such a contradictory fuck-wit.  The broadcast shows your outward behaviour and also narrates the inner thoughts and emotions.  Obviously it’s a comedy where everyone laughs at your unnecessary and futile punishments and this mocking just helps reinforce to the entire population that they’re ok and you’re ultimately some sort of twat.  The ludicrous inner conflict really is only worthy of a sitcom rather than of validation and endless self-defeating exploration.

Mocking is suits people so horrendously by falsely empowering the insecure to allow them to feel better about themselves even when they are being ridiculous, plain stupid or even murderously evil.  In that sense, we’re all suggestible and mouldable and we all have it in us to be manipulated away from our social norms and morals with the right stimulus and right reward systems.  It can happen so easily as we uncomfortably take small steps and with each step we take we get rewarded so feel good about making the step and it encourages us to continue, just a bit further, then a bit more and before we know it, we’re just sacrificed an ostrich by shoving it’s head up our arse to ‘cleanse it’s soul’  and are now feeding to our grandparents as we believe it will heal them from the errors of their ways.  You then feel sorry for all the people you see as naïve twats who are yet to wake up to what’s really happening in the world.  The pandemic is a great example here.  The nation in fact the entire globe changed their lives and conformed to the governments rules at greats self-sacrifice.  We all complied in one way or another in the same way we all conform.  Whether this be wearing gender-defining clothing or driving on one side of the road.  

So beyond the digression, there’s a need for me to give myself permission to relax and a need to feel it’s ok and not to feel it’s bad.  But there’s this monstrous negative association with doing nothing.  Influences could be that there’s inherited values around lazy twats do nothing, repeated messages that you get nothing if you don’t work, or associations with act of ‘doing’ such as working = approval from others = acceptance = I’m ok = I’m not a nobody twat.  All that stuff means I move away from doing nothing; from feeling that I am nothing to doing something of tangible worth to feel that I am something.  This feeling of self-worth often fades as quickly as it takes for the paint to dry on the latest project so needs topping up daily, of not hourly.  Fuck, we torture ourselves endlessly.  Maybe it’s Mother Nature’s way of population control so that we all age through futile and pointless work and stressing. 

Why is nature female and God male.  Did God fuck mother nature and she gave birth to the earth?  Have I just accidently stumbled across the greatest unknown truth of creation ever.  This may be the start of a formulation of my cult.  It may sound ridiculous but then it’s more credible that the fairy-tales of religion.

Categories
Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Awakening from the sneaky despair

I feel the awakening from a time of having my spirit subdued.  I’ve been asleep I think.  How do I know this?  Well, there’s some seriously disturbing clues that makes me wretch and feel disgusted as the light of recognition exposes something that I’d really like to be hidden.

Over the last 8 months I’ve succumbed to the spirit crushing shit that life seeks to spoon feed us.  I started to quite like those blandly vanilla twats on This Morning and developed an unhealthy liking of game shows.  The Chase and some shit where they push counters have been appealing to the point where I’ve reprimanded a child as they’ve entered the room during the final round as I need to avidly listen to it. 

What the fuck has happened to me.  I do recall seeking to resist this when I first started watching this shit.  I verbalised the ‘Why the fuck are we watching this shite’ to my wife at the time but then I got sucked in.  I’d have more respect for myself if I’d been sucked in by something proper like crack or heroin. 

In conducting an autopsy on my spirit, there’s some clues as to what was causing this dis-ease.  Obviously the pandemic is central here.  I was aware of the stress I felt by the more obvious changes in behaviour.  The comfort eating and getting pissed more.  I noticed more fluctuating moods at times, but sinking into spirit crushing mediocrity really crept up in me.  When I find myself recording This Morning and scheduling in The Chase with a pleasant coffee and piece of cake, suddenly there’s a realisation that things have slipped horribly. 

Is this what happens when your inner spirit dies?  Is this the result of spending all our time and energy on work and kids so that all you can do is vegetate in our own shit as you let this dross wash over you.  No winder depression is on the fucking increase.

In being compassionate to myself, I can blame the fatigue and need for comfort brought on by the pandemic.  You can blame the pandemic for anything – maybe rape and murder is pushing it, but drug use and theft is definitely worth a try.  Maybe I needed just some light stuff to soothe my stressed noodle.  The fact I’m disgusted with myself (and everyone else who by their incessant viewing encourages more of this drivel to be made and broadcast to endlessly dull our senses and keep use docile) must mean that my pandemic mood is evolving.

Maybe it’s a good thing; maybe this awakening is my inner anger for all the losses and difficulties the pandemic has brought is now coming out. How will I control this or at least find a way to express it. We’ve already established that we can’t use the pandemic as an excuse for murder but I don’t think stealing lots of stuff (unless it’s drugs) is going to soothe the potential inner rage.

I will experiment with resolving my inner unease by killing the neighbours cat and writing a ransom note in it’s blood.  This may sound harsh, but there’s a lovely element to this as I plan to use the ransom money to get it stuffed and will then return the pussy; perfectly preserved forever.  It’s actually a thoughtful gesture in some sense as Burbank is now immortal in a way.  Just the thought of this means that I’m now feeling a bit more me.  What next – infiltrate Holly Willoughby’s makeup team and replace her caked on face powder with a semi-permanent face dye that makes her look like an oompa-loopa for a month. 

Passive aggressive behaviour where we do some funny as fuck stunts – this could be the start of my new cult.  It’s a bit Fight Club-esque.  Who’s in?

Categories
Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations

Homework is shit?

If I’d have wanted to be a teacher, I would discarded my dress sense, bought clothes in a camping shop and stopped buying deodorant. I would also have trained to be a fucking teacher rather than having this forced upon me.  It’s a good job the midwives don’t give you a list of shit you’re going to have to fulfil as a parent as I think the human race would die out quite quickly.  I haven’t even been given access to the shop that gives you shit mugs and jackets with elbow patches.  Homework is shit, especially for primary school children and now the badly dressed, coffee supping twats are asking us to complete this an use an unfamiliar computer system and send it in – what the actual fuck are they thinking. 

Trying to use Google docs when the entire world has used Microsoft is fuckin ridiculous.  Trying to download PDF’s to amend then save  and submit when it doesn’t format properly makes me want to hire a hitman for these teacher twats.  It’s not beneficial to children to learn in this way when parents become enraged and throw their laptop through the fucking window making the house cold for the entire weekend.        

As a remedy, I will seek to identify some teachers in my local area and beat the shit out of them with my now broken laptop.  This is one effective remedy to the situation.  The other, which is possibly better for everyone, is where they become a bit more fuckin considerate before sending dumb-fuck homework using shit and difficult to use systems.  Maybe they should also check to ensure that everyone has a laptop, a printer and can use technology to the standard of a google helpdesk agent.  No wonder they need regular training days the b-o stained fuckwits.

(PS – have got to grips with Google classroom a little bit now tbf – it’s still shit tho)

Categories
Questionable Observations WTF is that?

The Cat, Squirrel and the Stripper

One of my cats is becoming far far above his already obnoxiously arrogant status.  I’m used to his ‘what the fuck is this shit’ look when I put his cat food down and every day, relentlessly remind him that he’s a cat and that this is cat food.  It’s like he doesn’t distinguish between himself (a cat) and me (a human).  In his defence,  I’ve never noticed him look in the mirror so it could be that he has no idea what he looks like, let alone, who he may be.  I wonder if he is confused about his identity which means there’s an urgent need for cat therapists as I’m sure he’s not suffering this identity confusion alone.

Therapist:  ‘So who are you?

Cat: ‘I have no fucking clue anymore and everyone keeps calling me a pussy.’

Therapist: ‘Pussy?’ 

Cat:  Yes, it’s a mystery to me and what’s fucked up is that apparently human’s put their cocks in pussy – I’m scared shitless these days.’

Anyhoo, Jooky caught a squirrel today which I accept is a savage and natural part of the world we live in, but then it did make me think.  A good friend has recently had problems with a squirrel in his attic and a few years ago tried the humane way of dealing with this by using a trap and taking him away.  The squirrel has come back though as these furry fuckers can be homing.  Even though he dumped him miles away, it’s evident that he’s come back, the piss-taking bastard.  There is a possibility that it’s a different squirrel but Daz says he recognises his beady eyes and sly smile. 

So, the obvious answer is to be less humane and send Jooky up into the attic to reap his predatory will on the menace.  I mentioned this to him, thinking he’d jump at the chance and be excited, rather like telling a child we’re going to a playground or to eat ice cream.  Instead, he started making demands!!  He’s demanding to be paid for this using the justification that Rentokil would charge and even sent me a quote he’s sourced online to reinforce his point. 

He didn’t just want food or money; he wants an experience he’s never had before and wanted a surprise.  Jokingly, Daz said that he’d take him to the Kitten Club (strip club) and pay for a dance for every squirrel he catches.  Jooky seems elated at this and even joked that as he’s a cat, he’d probably get in for half price like kids do.  This thought seems to settle in this mind and them he wanted more.  He’s never fucking happy. 

Not satisfied with this salubrious night out, that probably no other cat has had the pleasure of ever, he wants to go to a bar where ladies will squirt milk at him.  He said this combines his love of milk and ladies in one fabulous concoction.  Daz is now searching for a strip club where Lactating Lil performs where his chance of success ae minimal.  I suspect that Jooky knows that this sort of cabaret only exists in Benidorm.  It’s no secret that since watching Benidorm the series on television that he’s had an ambition to go there.  He’s a very clever and sly bastard at times and as Daz does really want rid of the squirrel, so when the Cat’s asked me to pick up a passport application from the post office, this probably won’t be a wasted journey.

(As a side thought, are all cats’ bastards?  I’ve never heard of them getting wed)

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started