And gathered on the Cenotaph, they all agreed with hand on heart to sheath the sacrificial knives. But then...

Ok, here's something that's nice and uncomfortable.

The right wing media, spearheaded as always by Rupert Murdoch, inevitably likes to bring up the armed forces, or "heroes" as we're supposed to consider them, and heap all sorts of praise and admiration on them. Can't blame them, they're right wing, it's what they do. Just like an infant can't help shit itself.

But, as a pacifist (though I'm willing to acknowledge the existence of a just war, but the only example of that to me, in modern times at least, would be the Second World War), I can't accept their titles as "peacekeepers." I'm not interested in discussing the actual reason why we're in Afghanistan, or anywhere else, the reasons are far too complex for some pretentious little shit in a bedroom to even imagine understanding.

Let's consider things from the very top, the Ministry of Defence; an Orwellian name if ever I saw one. What part of "let's go into another country and topple the leader" sounds like "Defence"? No, I'm not interested in a discussion about the merits of Hussein either, but the war was an inarguable attack by us. Legal/just or not, "we" were the attacking party. Ministry of Defence, indeed.

These "heroes" have all, for whatever reason or cause, have all decided that they are willing to kill. As far as I'm concerned, doesn't matter what uniform you're wearing, if you intentionally kill someone, that's murder. It's not a moral or ethical issue, it's a simple one: what right does anyone have to destroy the existence of another?

So we are being asked to commemorate, to feel indebted towards, to glorify all these people who are willing to serve an entity to its fullest, and put them on pedestals, and call them "heroes." They want us to thank them for killing?

Fuck off.

But I will be the first to accept that it's not their fault that we are at war, nor that they are ultimately responsible for the overall outcome; they are, after all, only following orders. Which is what makes me uncomfortable.

They are all, obviously, not bloodthirsty ogres looking for a meal. But in the same way, I cannot see them as the noble protectors of the people, slaying the dragon that ate the rather nice looking princess.

Its not helped by the fact that so many people have been taken in by the right wing media, and believe in their heroic qualities. I'm reminded of the commentary on some football game; after a wayward shot from some way out, the commentator would ask: "is he brave? Or is he stupid?"

I can only ask the same question of the people who willingly join armies. To me, at least, I can think of very little more shameful than being a soldier. To have willingly joined an organisation that openly ignores the humanity in people.

So when I see parades of soldiers, people cheering them all on, thanking them, praising them, the same people who decry the same parades made by the Nazis or Soviets, I get that same sickness I get when I see the Union Flag. That uncomfortable detestment of all that it represents. And the worst part is the knowledge that there are people who have the nerve to openly disagree with me, that this view is, or at least seems to be, in the minority.

Hydref eto a bydd yntau gyda'r dail.

Yes, I know...

Anyway, I've been off for weeks now and have, of course, used that time wisely. By doing nothing. Filling my days with crap, getting up in the afternoon, going to bed after the street lights have gone off - and everything in the middle a bit like the filling of a mini roll - looks nice, tastes ok, but hardly the highlight of the day.

And as per usual, the hours before sleep are filed with assorted musings about life, the universe and everything, before I eventually wake up at some stupid hour again, ready to ignore and forget any resolve I had.

The musings of late have been strikingly similar to the last few posts, and as you can guess by the gap, I'd forgotten about them. So, re-reading the words of an absolute immature git, what struck me?

I haven't gone anywhere.

You'd have thought that seven (or however many) months down the line, I'd have finally got bored of trying to solve the universe in a paragraph, but apparently not. Asking "what's the point?" a million times, disguised in a million different ways is, of course, ultimately futile, etc, etc. I've been here before.

And will go there again at some point, I'm sure, racing around that same circle, over and over. Nice. I can't be arsed to go through all the shite I've written here, but I'm fairly sure that I'd still agree with it all, in some form. Maybe.

Quite frankly, I'm bored. I've lived in the same house, doing the same things on the same planet for nearly nineteen years, never daring to go out, because I've settled into this same pattern that people expect me to follow, which is fair enough, and can't be arsed to go through the whole culture shock of revealing that I have an extra ear on my shoulder, or whatever, and the reaction that that would give.

Ok, bad example. But the point is, things have got stale. To take the half-arsed food analogy to the end, variety is the spice of life. Yes, I'm well aware that anyone who uses that saying sounds like an utter twat. I've got a vague recollection that I've mentioned at some point that I have this stupid and futile need to justify all that I do, in some way (pathetic, isn't it?), and I don't like spicy food. So if I were to suddenly say, "ah, go on! Cover the chips in pepper or whatever little black bits people put on food for some stupid reason!" I would get weird looks. That's ok, that's nothing new, I encourage it. But I just can't be arsed to deal with those looks. Do I really want pepper on the chips that much?

Ok, I'm going to stop with the food analogy there, hopefully it makes some sort of sense (I highly doubt it), because I have a (cunning) plan. Or more a sort of experiment. Just run with it. Anyway, on the futile notion that there is someone actually reading this (ha!), I have a proposition. It's called:

Rent-a-Rant

Yes it's audience participation time! On the basis that my mind is simply re-visiting old ground in some pathetic attempt to be deep and meaningful (yeah! (the sarcasm is, hopefully, palpable)), I'm inviting you, the aforementioned non-existent, imagined reader (let's face it, after however many months, even fucking Stephen Hawking has got up, turned off the light and left), to suggest something for me to express an opinion on.

Despite the name, I'm not charging, you can give me money if you really want, (please don't...), just something I haven't covered. There's a lot, I know, but my thinking is that something random to bullshit on might kick this braindead fucker into action. Or not, it doesn't matter. I would say that I will continue to write regardless, but at my current rate, that's a pretty stupid thing to say.

If, like me, you too can't be arsed to do much, and have skipped to the end, what I've said, in a nutshell is this:

I'm bored, give me something to do. Please!

How Many Roads Must A Man Walk Down? (42)

Nothing overtly political or patriotic today, I'm feeling philosophical.

If I haven't mentioned it already (and I'm sure I have), I'm an atheist. I.e. religion is a load of crap, shat out of the mouths of assorted power-hungry manipulative cunts. Well, organised religion, at least. Science, however, makes sense. (And no, I'm not interested in a debate as to how compatible they are, and I accept that I'm speaking in broad, extreme terms, etc. - I'm just setting the scene.)

Science can, of course, offer a plethora of provable, reliable answers, in a way that religion, by its very nature, cannot. So let's ask the big one:

"Why are we here?"

Ah, shit, I just broke the universe.

Obviously, science, by its own very nature, cannot answer this. Because, logically, there isn't an answer.

We are here by total, random chance - and nothing more. We are born, we live, we die. Fin. We have no purpose: there is no sense in giving someone a task without telling them, and any purpose given that doesn't require this (as in Douglas Adams' brilliant Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy, where we are here to discover a question for a bunch of mice) is so individually mundane it makes no difference - in such cases there is purpose for society; what the individual does is of no real importance.

I know this may sound weird coming from a socialist, but that's an economic term, not philosophical. And besides, individuality is still important even in the most socialist of societies.

So why do we all bother, if what we're doing has no purpose? Obviously, many will give themselves their own purpose, be it from religion or simple willpower. But such purposes strike me as being just as pointless as no purpose - even if you do everything you want to do, and kick the bucket as the happiest person on Earth- or, hell, in the Universe for that matter - you're still dying, taking none of your achievements with you (not that there's anywhere to go), and no real part of you will remain in any sort of working state. In short: no matter what you do, you'll be just as dead as everyone else.

And yet we go, still motivated by meaningless goals or ideals. How anyone can actually care about anything whilst still accepting the above is beyond me, yet I'm just as guilty (for lack of a better term, I'm not calling everyone a convict) as everyone else.

My only justification (and I've got a funny feeling that I've gone on about this before) is that since we are here by such pure random chance, we might as well get as much from life as possible, otherwise it's just a waste. Death will wait, it's just another, terminal state of life, but since it's the only one that's completely inevitable, might as well leave it till last.

Other than that, however, I see no other reason to want anything, to be ambitious, or to be motivated. And even if everything gets fucked up the arse, no big disaster, since there's no real loss.

And if all that sounds morbid, and depressing, just go and watch some Monty Python, that'll cheer you up.

Oi, Santa! Pass Us That Bottle, Will You...

In the words of Noddy Holder:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!"

Oh fuck off.

Any sort of lovechild from Religion and Capitalism is bound to be a disaster, and, lo and behold, it is. It's easy to simply ask, "what is the point?" but this fails on two respects: one, if there is no point to life, as I believe, then logically, there is no point to Christmas, and two, there is something much more cynical going on here.

Yes, it's a cliché, but Christmas is not a Christian festival, and never was. Any and every "primitive" culture had some sort of festival to mark the Winter Solstice, and rather than spend effort on removing it, the Church simply absorbed its own traditions into the festival, in a great big religious con.

But there was another ingredient, one that's developed over time. Corporate greed injected consumerism into the day, just as with every other half-festival, admittedly, but there seems to be more emphasis on Christmas than on any other event. We are encouraged - directly or otherwise - to spend, spend, spend on other people, and that we reap the virtuous rewards of giving - whilst giving the most to the fat cunts, of course.

I will admit that I spent all day in Cardiff's brand new Temple of Capitalism (sponsored by the DFS half price sale) buying shite for other people, simply because it's easier in the long run. To say after 18 years that I am to utterly shun Christmas in all it's forms sounds good on paper, but you try explaining that to the grandparents. It's now so ingrained into our social conscience that it's almost impossible to ignore, and even then, my suggestions that we all just chip in a tenner and call it "Christmas" fell on deaf ears.

I can accept the now secular nature of it, it's just a part of a wider culture. I can just about accept the consumerist nature; if you accept, regrettably, that we live in a Capitalistic society then, by default, it is society's fault, not "Christmas'".

But I can never lose that nagging feeling that it's all pure escapism: "Yes, I've done shit things all year and been a horrible bastard, but on Christmas Day everything's fine, and I can pretend to be this perfect person. Of course I'm a conscientious person, look how much I work with charity every Christmas, even though I can afford to give and help all year round."

Yes, escapism is good thing, and uffach, I feel escapist every other minute. It's not what actually happens itself that gets me, I always get some sort of enjoyment from the day, but there's a sinister edge here, that people aren't aware of, and that unsettles me. More unsettling, personally, is that for all my ranting and raving, I'm just as bad as the rest of them.

This has probably all been said before, and in a much clearer way than someone with half a bottle of wine attacking their liver, but fuck it. I can only end with a nice little phrase that can describe nearly every single thing in the universe:

Pathetic, isn't it?

A Pig on the Wing

Let's all ignore the past six months in a very nonchalant manner. Good, now that that's over...

Here's a thought: lesbians.

Here's an altogether, much deeper and profound thought: at what point do two seemingly compatible ideals clash?

If you completely missed the title, I am a Socialist, and all that comes with it. I'm also a Welsh Patriot, and a Liberalist. All good and fine? Here's the problem:

I try not to use the word "extreme" to describe my Socialist beliefs; I'm not about to blow myself up in the hope of getting half a million virgins to join me in the Great Gig in the Sky, so "strong" will have to do. Either way, a tenet of Socialism is the nationalisation, i.e. state control, of banks (ha!), utilities and businesses. Sounds good so far.

But Liberalism, by its very definition, means that everyone is free to think, say, and do as they please. So would I, as a hypothetical Head of State, have the right to take control of a business, and prevent it from trading, for whatever reason, for "the greater good"? And I know this idea has been milked so much that the cow resembles my bedroom floor after my 18th (and please don't throw Harry Potter at me, those books are big, and likely to hurt).

The question of a state also comes into it, though to a lesser extent: this all makes the state much more powerful, yet I would see no national boundaries, and the reduction of state power. Though please note that I can get around the whole Wales thing by pointing out the difference between, what I perceive as "patriotism" and "nationalism": I'm a patriot, not a nationalist. I think I've explained the difference, to me, somewhere on here, if not, I'm sure I'll get around to it at some point between now and the inevitable time when I see a bucket and get the uncontrollable urge to kick it.

But I digress.

This is the underlying problem with all ideals: to what extent are they compatible? I've always said that we're all hypocrites, myself included; how else can you describe a nihilist or existentialist (Sartre and Camus eat your hearts out. Oh wait, you're both dead... Moving swiftly on...) who sees absolutely no point or value in suicide?

Who wins in the battle of ideals? What is more important? Economic and Social fairness, or total freedom (which, incidentally, could lead straight to Capitalism. Argh!)? My gut says freedom, within a society with no government, or bureaucratic red tape that stopped me from expressing my opinion properly for 18 years, in a sort of Marxist/Socialist state that works properly, i.e. a Socialist Utopia, which I'll get around to defining properly one of these days, even if it is essentially unworkable.

Of course, there is a total compromise between them all, it's called "New Labour," apparently.

Oh shit.


Anyway, to end on a lighter note, tune in in approx. 24 hours for the first ever Christmas Special! That is, if I remember to write it...

Come In Here, Dear Boy, Have A Cigar

What the? That's what, four days since the last one? Shit, I am bored...

Anyway, was reading Nick Robinson's (of "didn't know you cared," to George Bush fame) BBC Blog earlier, and he had an interview with that pompous git of a Shadow Chancellor, George Osborne. Most of what was said consisted of the usual Tory moaning and whining, but one phrase, surprisingly, stuck with me: "David Cameron and the modern Conservatives." Admittedly, it may have been used before, but I hadn't heard it. Then again, I don't like wading through shit.

Either way, there was something about the phrase that hit me. Ignoring the lack of a capital letter for "modern," which could make everything I'm about to say redundant, it stuck me as the type of stunt that we've seen all before.

Ok, New Labour really were "New," but only in the sense that that 19th century vacuum cleaner you bought to replace the aging, yet fixable old one, was "new." What we got was the same old fan propelling the same old shit down our throats, and the continued decline of socialism. So maybe not "'New' Labour," but perhaps "'Different' Labour."

Either way, they'd changed. So how are the "Modern Conservatives" (or "modern Conservatives," if you insist) going to change? A sudden sharp turn to the left? Yeah right. To the right, then? If they go any further right, as their hilarious actions in Europe are suggesting, they might as well merge with the fucking BNP. Wonderful.

Like it or not (I'd like to emphasise the word "not" as much as possible), the Tories are getting in, and we know what happened last time. Thatcher's continued murder of Socialism goes unstopped, and the island's fucked. Just as New Labour didn't win any votes in 1997, they just got the vote against the Tories, so too will the "Modern Conservatives" will the anti-Labour vote this time around.

This two party system pretty much sums up my whole distrust and suspicion of party politics. Until there is a strong, Left Wing party, my views will never be represented in that mad house. Society's too fucking big.

Which incidentally, makes Welsh independence all the more vital, neatly bringing every aspect of the title here.

Or something like that, I started watching Monty Python half way through, and completely lost track of my trail of thought...

You Never Talk To Me

Holy shit, it's a post!

... Or something like that. No, you're not getting a detailed life story of what happened in the however many months that I haven't posted. Even I don't give a shit what happened, so I see no reason why anyone else should.

Nor am I going to go on about the racist cunts getting in in those elections. To be perfectly honest, I don't know what to say that hasn't been said already. Eggcept (pathetic, I know...) a major congratulations to the guys who threw the eggs. They should make that a sport, National Throw an Egg at a Racist Day. I'm in.

Instead, let's talk about the other recent election - the Speaker of the House of Commons. I was sad enough to watch it, and got extremely annoyed at the incessant bowing and hat taking off. Bloody House of Lords...

Anyway, as soon as Jack Straw got tennis elbow and the event drew to a close, the real business began. The verdict? I don't like him. There's something about him that makes me uneasy, though I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's the lingering knowledge that he was a member of the Monday Club, and no matter how far left he's turned since then (though let's be honest, New Labour isn't exactly left-wing), having that type of history is an immediate cause for suspicion.

Or maybe it's the patronising way he conducted Prime Minister's Questions yesterday. He let that "debate" about public investment go on far too long, it was utterly obvious that both Brown and Cameron were just repeating themselves, and it ended up as pointless point scoring (yes, that was pathetic too...). Bring back Betty!

Still, give the guy a chance, I suppose - it's not as if we get a say. All depends on how far he goes to reform the place. Which, inevitably, won't be far enough.

On a related note, let's hope the SNP win Michael Martin's Glasgow (East? West? Does it matter? One of them, anyway) seat. Though they'll likely have another chance soon, with a General Election on the way. On the plus side, I'll finally get a chance to vote, on the down side, the Tories are going to win. Shit. Usually, in this type of situation, I'd probably advocate an election, but not if it means the Tories get in. I genuinely don't understand why anyone would want to vote for those slimy, bloodthirsty gits.

Oh well. Maybe I'll move to Switzerland and live as a hermit for the rest of my life.

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