Daily Rant – Cola Edition. 15 July 2018

This is not Pineapple as she is wrote.

Sit down children. It’s story time. Yes, you as well Phillipa, if you promise not to bite Markie and yes you Scott if you stop trying to eat Samantha’s hair. Yes, it is pretty, but hair is not for eating.

Now this is a story about a Daddy. No Phillipa, no one gets deported.

Yes Frank, everyone is going to be at home when you get back.

Paulie, peanut butter does not live on Samantha’s hair. Yes you can have it later after nap time.

The things I have to do in order to get the voices to just calm down for a second.

So daughter and friend are visiting for a day of fun with me and the 17 other people who live in my head.

I thought it might be nice to buy them a beverage or two.

Now unlike most normal people I glanced at the orange juice and thought that it was far too pedestrian. I wanted something filled the brim with anti oxidants and produced by goggle eyed chemists.

So – and bless them at the Cola company that makes the world a happier and more obese place, I saw a can of Fanta.

But this can was sparkly and promised pineapple flavour. I love pineapple.

So I bought a brace of them.

However, as with most plans, it fell apart at 4am. There was a drought in my body. So I stole one can. In have no excuse other than the fact that I thought I could decant the other can into a glass and my daughter and company would be none the wiser.

I have very rarely regretted something at 4am so much. And believe you me – there have been some very questionable choices made at 4am.

This is not pineapple. There is not anything like this in nature that is born of the soil. This is like licking Satan’s armpit. And then running your tongue over his week old underpants.

Who taste tests these things? It was vomitous.

If I cannot stomach it that means that a hyena would throw up.

And this is on the market. Someone thought it would be a great idea. I’d like to meet that person. I really would.

I have some ideas I’d like to pitch. Running shoe flavoured, barnacle sips, septic tank sparkling water?

If this is the state of the beverage industry I have grave doubts about the sustainability of their business model.

NOT The Daily Rant. Cave Edition. 09 July 2018

Only some two weeks ago 12 young men and their soccer coach were trapped in the flooded Tham Luang Nang Non caves in Chiang Rai, northern Thailand.

Experts from all over the world were called in to try and get those kids and their coach to safety.

Thank whatever higher being there is, 5 of those brave young men have now been brought to safety. But the sheer magnitude of the challenge is incredible.

For those who pray – this is the time.

Already one very experienced Thai SEAL has died in effort to bring succor to those who are far from their loved ones – and until recently probably without hope.

But the world mobalised. There are teams from across the globe helping. I will not mention individual nations, it’s pointless – they were all united in one thing, a love for children and a great love for humanity. And the Thai government welcomed the help.

There are those cynics who believe that this was a ploy by the Thai ruling junta to distract from upcoming elections.

I choose to believe differently. We all share a common humanity.

Where children are involved we band together – and that is as it should be.

But something occurred to me.

In Western society we would immediately be pointing fingers. Who is to blame? We play the blame game almost unthinkingly. There must always be ‘another’ who is responsible for this current state of affairs.

I am by no means an old hand in South East Asia.

However, my experience is this. Those of various beliefs in South East Asia are as tough as nails. Depending on their culture they accept what life brings. That is not to say they will not fight tooth and nail against fate. But what will be will be.

I am not being condescending, if I have misinterpreted, then please, I will correct my opinion.

These are tough, tough folk.

But this struck me:

The parents of 12 boys stranded inside a northern Thailand cave have written to their children for the first time and to the coach who led them inside, telling him: “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“To all the kids,” one letter, written by the mother of Nattawut Takamsai, 14, said. “We are not mad at you at all. Do take good care of yourself. Don’t forget to cover yourself with blankets as the weather is cold. We’re worried. You will come out soon.”

She wrote to Ekkapol Chantawong, the coach: “We want you to know that no parents are angry with you at all, so don’t you worry about that.”

Now contrast that with how quickly we are to assign blame.

I have no doubt in my mind that the media will crucify this poor man. All he was trying to do was reward and motivate his soccer team. He made a mistake – he went to deep into a cave. It was not a terrible mistake – excitable youngsters were involved and he probably wanted to indulge them, but it spiraled out of control.

He is guilty of nothing except love for the kids under his wings. But the sharks of the media will circle.

He is nothing short of a hero. Mistakes aside. He has tried his best to keep a group of frightened, weak young men motivated and in good health. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

I for one salute him. But watch as he is devoured by the media.

As the water rises the NEED for more drama will accelerate – and the blame game will begin.

And then the little bottom feeders of the social media will start.

My prayers, from this old and creaky Agnostic may not count for much. But they are there for these brave, brave kids – and their keeper.

Daily Rant. Bloody Annoyed / All Over the Place Edition. 04 July 20018.

HAPPY FOURTH AMERICAN FOLK!

So here’s your latest rant.

I get angry. But very rarely at colour or creed. In fact, I don’t think I ever have.

But you fucking pond scum on the social media who mock and belittle people of different sexual persuasions. You are filth. So tiny that you want to hurt and poke and burn. People who you think cannot fight back.

You think they can’t – guess what? I’ll be at their side.

These are folks who have carried enough baggage in their lives. And you sit on your couches and drink your cocktails?

‘Oh, look at the deviants’

Stop it. These are good people. They don’t want to hurt your kids or you. They are good, honest folk, for the most part.

Why are we becoming so polarised that we cannot say ‘hi, nice to meet you?’
This is an old and terrifying mentality. ‘Look at the Jew. Look at the Catholic, look at the black person, look at the Indian.’

ENOUGH.

Start thinking. Or stop thinking. And start praying. Or looking up, or down at the little things that crawl or scurry. Because you are on your knees for a reason. Who do you think is going to look down and give you a hand?

And for the record, I don’t believe in some sort of benevolent God that has a white beard and judges from on high.

If you do, then I respect that. It is wonderful to have a guideline – a moral compass. But if you use that to terrify and belittle someone I will read you your rights. And you will lose the argument.

And then after writing that I realised something. It’s not just about sexual orientation – it’s simple hatred and fear.

I believe in the idea of goodness. I believe that people are inherently good. And I believe this even in the face of evidence to the contrary.

There are people full of rage and violence and sheer bitter hatred and these are people who see others as objects to hurt and maim and kill. Those are outliers. I truly believe that. And they should be put down like rabid animals.

It is contradictory. But there cannot be just black and white opinions. There are grey areas. That is what a thinking person struggles with. That fog of grey where you can only struggle to seek a universal truth.

I like people. I really find them interesting and full of fear and contradiction and love and dislike and hope and beauty.

And sometimes you come across someone that harbours that terrible thing in their soul – hate.

I will never, ever forget what a man said to me once. And it has been said by many others. But this man was imprisoned on Robyn Island by the Apartheid regime. For many years. Put to work breaking rocks. Every day. Rain or shine. Inhaling dust and shivering or sweating. And I will never forget that he laughed and was as strong as an iron bar. He could quiet a crowd with one word.

And the words he said to me were simple.

‘Hate only hurts you. It limits your understanding. Your heart will break if you allow hatred to rule it. You feel that, not the object of your hatred.’

Now that’s all very Zen. But it came from a man. Who is human. A real person. So, I beg of you. Don’t judge.

And I know it’s difficult. And I talk to all of you, across the world. Sex, age, colour and creed. We need to look inside ourselves.

If you meet someone with hatred in their hearts, turn away. Do not allow it to poison your soul.

Hatred. Fear.

Just stop it.

Daily Rant. Facebook Edition. 30 June 2018.

Let me be clear about this before I disappear down the rabbit hole of surrendering to my usual sarcastic rant refuge. I usually rave about how certain services providers involved in modern life seem to take perverse pleasure in making joy such an elusive goal. Guess what – I’m doing it again – being angry gets addictive.

I like Facebook. I’m old and set in my ways. I’ll put up with anti vaxxers, naturapath loonies, Greenpeace, invitations to join in the merry-go round of multi-level marketing, begging for a cabbage or a mule for someone’s online farm and assorted pictures of babies who look like Winston Churchill. Hell, I even find myself reading about vegans and thinking they might have point.

However.

All I want is to chat to a couple of friends, envy their lifestyles and simply bask in the reflected pixel glow of knowing that there is a world where people work in businesses where underwear is the default choice for business attire. I’m a simple man – under dressed possibly, but simple.

But for your amusement let me tell you that life tends to change when you embark on an ad campaign on Facebook. It changes in the same way as it would change if you had to beg a small child to put the safety pin back into a grenade.Very soon you will realise that you are not dealing with an entirely rational player.

Let’s take a trip back in my patent pending ‘WayBack Device’ (stay with me).

In the days when beating the living snot out of a boychild if they transgressed certain boundaries was in fashion, you might come home from school and have this rather surreal conversation as you walked through the door.

Mother: ‘Wait until your Father gets home!’
You (hopefully): ‘Sweeties?’
Mother: ‘You know what you did!’
You: ‘Seriously, I don’t.’
Mother: ‘You just wait!’
You (wailing): ‘But I don’t know!’

Now aside from the fact that this was a serious betrayal of any sort of even marginally functional justice system – you know that your ass is going to be hurting when you get to the dinner table. If you get any dinner.

This is advertising on Facebook.

Everything is going along fine and dandy until the ad campaign just stops. And you have no idea why. So, you fill in a form which asks you everything except your blood type and then you submit that in the (marginal) hope that all will be well.

It never is.

You get a message along these lines:

‘Our records indicate that your payments account was disabled because it violates Facebook’s terms of service. In the interest of protecting our users, we cannot confidently re-enable your payments account at this time.’

‘Thanks for your understanding’

Now any person who has not been active on a pogo stick underneath a ceiling fan would realise that there are a few problems here.

I wouldn’t mind a little bit more information about the specific term of service that I have violated. Just throw the dog a bone. Just a clue so that I can rectify the problem.

‘in the interests of protecting our users.’

I am the user you knuckle dragging festering swamp twats. I would have let you know if there was a problem.

‘we cannot confidently etc etc’

Just tell me what the issue is, and I’ll fix it – I beg of you.

And the absolute best passive aggressive statement I have ever read.

‘Thank you for your understanding.’

Let’s be clear. I don’t understand, I cannot understand, I am not psychic.
This is the same mentality of that used by those who design website logins.

‘Username or password incorrect.’

Just tell me which one is incorrect – I am on my knees.

This is a sign of things to come. And I have said it before. We are becoming slaves to forms. It makes no difference to companies social media sites.

They have become so powerful that they honestly believe that they can send out automated responses – form letters. They are consistently vague so that they have some ‘plausible deniability’.

‘We told him!’

But – and it’s a big but (I cannot lie) the time is rapidly approaching when the sheer avarice of these social media companies will become self-defeating.

They are throwing up hurdle after hurdle in order to limit the activities of small business – no matter how active those businesses are. They want the big fish. The reason is simple. When it all goes to hell (and it will) they will have formed such a close relationship with the marketing departments of huge brands that they know – we sink or swim together.

As far as security is concerned Facebook and its fellow travelers have already been badly burned. Now they are gun shy. And they have metamorphised (or metastasised possibly more accurately) into something far more dangerous than a simple company, they are now actively suppressing entrepreneurship.

For a company that thrived on baby photos – they are now throwing aspirant business people out with the bathwater.

And mark my words. You will be asked to pay for their services at some point in the future. They will split free and paid into two separate markets – and that will be the death knell of that company.

Rant over – have a great weekend folk. And don’t be like Steve – enjoy and don’t be upset.

Daily Rant. Trump Edition. 21 June 2018.

I love Donald Trump.

He has confirmed every single thing that I have always strongly believed about politicians.

They are venial power mongers who would take a psychopath test and fall into every single category. The difference between him and other politicians is that he doesn’t have that vital filter. It’s simply buried under one of his failed development projects. He will say exactly what he thinks.

And that thinking is sometimes so flawed that I gasp in something I am beginning to think of as ‘reverse awe.’ Or revulsion to put it more simply.
It is the same in drawn breath of air that you take when you see a drunken father sitting at a restaurant table lean over and smack his kid on the side of the head.

He is a breath of fresh air.

Well, not fresh air. The sort of air that you breath in around a campfire that someone has set ablaze with kerosene.

It makes no difference to him what people think. Because they are simply not human beings with desires, hopes and dreams. And even more dangerously, he thinks that people can be catagorised. Because he honestly and truly believes that some elements of society are sub human.

Any criticism is like pouring gasoline on a fire. He burns brighter and more toxic.

He is the Paris Hilton of politics.

Entitled, from a wealthy family and absolutely no regard for human beings. It’s all fun until you get a political STD.

Apparently leather doesn’t burn.

And Republican supporters are crowing about his popularity. Wait.
Let me be perfectly clear. I think the Democrats are bereft of ideas and I think many of their supporters are frankly insane. But I have the same thoughts about the Republicans.

The cake is made of crazy- it’s just the colour and flavour of the icing that differs.
I could go on and on about guns, tax, California, oil, the maniac that Trump has put in charge of the EPA, bible punchers in the White House, firing everyone. The CIA, the FBI, Hillary Clinton, military spending.

It goes on and on.

But I’m not going to.

Why?

Because I had a little bit of a think.

A few things leapt to mind.

1. Anyone who separates children from their parents should be whipped. And I don’t care if it was a Clinton era law. Trump had the ability to stop it on day one. He didn’t. He got so caught up in his narrow worldview that he missed everything. So now he’s back peddling and the PR machine goes into overdrive. No excuse – you messed it up. You. No one else.

2. That Mardi Gras in Singapore. What did you hope to achieve? I’ll tell you what you have done. You have sent an engraved dinner invitation to Iran. ‘Keep at it and I’ll come over and offer you the keys to the kingdom.’

3. China sanctions. You mess with these people at the risk of your own country. I’m not saying don’t engage – but there seems to be a short circuit in your brain. You went to a military academy – didn’t they teach you not to fight wars on three different fronts? You have pissed off Europe, Canada and Brics. Aside from China. Who is going to step into the breach? You’ve now stopped your cooperative military exercises with Asian nations. I think Mr Putin appreciates all that you have done for him.

It goes on and on. But you know what disappoints and enrages me more than that is disappointment. Trump. You were supposed to have your head screwed on right as far as economics were concerned. The popularity of the U.S. is at an all time low internationally. You are only beginning to see the edge of what is a global economy turn against the U.S.

It could have been so, so much better. If only you’d realised that you are an elder statesman.

Instead you have embraced a Kissinger model of unpredictability. That may have worked in the late 60’s and early 70’s as a way of keeping governments guessing during the Cold War. It is today a recipe for disaster.

Quickrant. Electricity Supply Edition. 16 June 2018.

How much deeper Eskom?

You’ve already cut away the muscle and reached the bone with consumers who actually pay their bills. Now you want to suck the marrow out of those bones.

We, the consumer pay.

Now the fact that electricity is cheap in SA doesn’t tell the entire story. Not even close. The people who are paying for that electricity are under increasing pressure.

The fact of the matter is that the consumer in South Africa (who pay their bills) are paying more than any other BRICS country electricity user.

You say you’ve added 1.6 million new customers?

Words are clever things. It makes no difference if you’ve added them and they don’t pay their bills.

Those consumers in SA who pay their bills pay an absolute fortune for power. And I use the word ‘absolute’ in its fiscal sense.

The municipalities don’t pay their bills and they are bleeding the country dry.

You cannot borrow (or extort money) from Peter to pay Paul forever, something that seems to have escaped your fellow travelers at SAA.

And now you’ve spooned with government in a bed made of your soiled spending to prevent people using generators – you want a ‘licensing fee’. No one is an idiot. Licensing is an effort to prevent any free choice. You want to stop people taking any initiative.

The next will be licensing and further taxation of solar – and from what I understand that is well advanced.

Eskom is a bloated, self serving and corrupt organisation. A legacy of state control that should have been shot in the head ages ago.

But now you’re in choppy waters and flailing around for a life preserver – and if you are not bailed out the entire country suffers.

And while you’re drowning you do what every drowning victim does – you take down the rescuer with you.

Your previous management got rid off anyone who knew what they were doing. Maintenance, financial control, good corporate governance. And it was a new dawn.

Yes – it was and that sunrise bled red all over this country’s fiscal landscape.

You have new power stations. But because of management incompetence they will not operate at full capacity for – well never, if things go on the way they are going.

Your coal supplies are a lesson in how the free market shouldn’t work.

The only thing I thank God for is that the nuclear option appears to be stalled. But perhaps it should go ahead. Given the fact that your organisation couldn’t find its ass with both hands in the dark, maybe that comforting Uranium glow might help.

I have an idea. Buy SAA’s planes and fly the fucking coal to power plants. The planes won’t get dirtier inside and the airline is hemorrhaging money anyway so why not make use of the planes?

Softrant. Historical Edition. 11 June

The Days That Are Fading.

I have had a heck of a day. It has not been intellectually stimulating. It has not been a lot of fun. But it’s not unusual that random thoughts simply pop up in mt head after days like this.

This one was particularly interesting. I was on Skype to a good friend of mine who now calls Vietnam home (he’s actually my boss now – but he’ll never read this). I heard a noise that I have not heard in 20 years.

A dot matrix printer. I simply could not place it. And then it all came back to me. That terrible noise.

And this got me to thinking.

It’s easy to tell our kids about those inventions have made our lives so different.

Everyone always says the Internet. It’s not complicated, it has changed the paradigm of how we communicate. We now chat and interact and conduct business at the speed that lazy electrons can get their asses to us via satellites or undersea cables.

But I am going to throw my hat into the ring about one of our forgotten heroes – the fax machine.

Special paper, dropped lines and then the tech went mad. Color and response via keyboards. It was magic.

Not the first clue. I’d offer it a sandwich.

And there was something else that people do not remember about the age of the fax machine. You had to read the fax. Someone could scribble on the page – but you really had to focus.

It wasn’t ‘Calibri (Body) 11 Point’ you had to really pay attention. And that gave you you time to think.

There were usually two stock response. Send again or ‘I think that the dot matrix naked image is not meant for me. And you are a very special person, with very special interests.’

But you had to read and absorb.

Email is incredible. The cloud is lovely. But sometimes I think it’s a little too quick. Our responses are too easy. We don’t digest the content – we simply have a response template in our heads. It’s very, very dangerous.

We will all make mistakes. The world is far to quick. But I’ll bet you one thing – and this proves my point. How many of you have opened up a mail that you have just sent? Just to check.

You are the victims of the non fax era. Read.

I am terrible at it – but I’m learning.

 

 

 

Quickrant. Cholesterol Edition. 03 June.

I’m going to deviate a little from my usually acerbic view of this planet and the godforsaken imbeciles that live on this pretty blue and green orb (myself included).

I’m going to take a view that most people will hate. Good.

I like Wimpy breakfasts.

There, I’ve said it. All you slow braised, organic ‘fresh from the farm. coffee out of a cats ass can kiss mine.

Give me a lovely egg, cooked in what I assume is oil. Some chips (fries, for those of us who cannot speak English) a barely grilled tomato and a hash brown. Throw in some bacon and a piece of toast and I am happy as a clam.

Add some coffee made out of the leavings of last nights staff orgy (which I assume is a thing) and I’m OK.

Bring me more coffee with whipped cream on the top and I’m even better (God I hope it’s whipped cream given the last comment).

You can sit there and have your mercury smoked salmon on a bagel, and the bacon from your organically slaughtered oinks.

That is simply beautiful.

I’m a really simple person when it comes to food. If I can manage to put it into the right orifice then as far as I am concerned it’s a good start to the day.

So we have Wimpy. And for all of those who go ‘ugh’ – they’re coming back to the world. Famous Brands is relaunching in the U.K.

And you know you love it. I see you all sitting there. Be ashamed if you want. I’m not. I love that stuff. I’d rather have Wimpy burger than Mickey D’s any day.

QuickRant. For Writers. 28 May 2018.

I don’t mean this rant to defend wordsmiths, but the fact of the matter is that words count.

The ability of human beings to dominate this planet – for better or for ill has depended one thing as its foundation. Communication. An opposable thumb didn’t hurt – but the ability to communicate shoved us to the top of the tree.

We are now apex predators. Think about Joe the caveman. Joe was prey. Then suddenly Joe learned something. He looked at Frank who was living in the next cave over.

And he thought ‘hold on a second. Frank is over here, let’s have a chat.’

So he says to Frank. ‘That Cave Bear that ate Susan the other day, it’s an issue. Not many Susan’s around. So he says to Frank ‘Why don’t you stand at the top of the cliff and throw a rock at that bear’s head while I sit here and shout to attract its attention?’

And everyone had Cave Bear soup that evening.

And what made the difference between eating Cave Bear and being eaten by a Cave Bear? Words. Communication.

Apparently, the ideal size of any society is around 200 people. Our brains can’t deal with more information about individuals. We start to forget things that make that society tick over. Joe the caveman might have eaten Frank by mistake. But he didn’t – because they had a chat.

Communication is at the foundation of what makes us human beings. And today that means part of a global society.

Now. When people ask writers what they do, the response to ‘I write’ is usually a sniff and the implied thought of ‘why don’t you get a proper job?’ There’s a word for people like this.

They are imbeciles.

Words have power.

‘I have a dream’

‘Peace in our time’

‘One small step for man’

‘We shall fight them on the beaches’

These words did not spring up fully formed like weeds in an untended garden.

Someone thought long and hard – and tended to their mental space until those words reached open air.

Words are not cheap.

Everything has a cost. That is the reality of the world we live in. Every single thing you encounter is a part of a commercial transaction. Love, beauty, baked beans. Everything has a cost.

So, the next time you encounter a writer who struggles to make ends meet. Don’t sniff and turn away. You have no idea what those words cost. The pain and anguish that each word has cost those scribblers is not something that is free of charge.

Because it’s the loneliest job in the world.

It requires that you live in your head all the time. It forces you to look at the world through eyes that must take everything in and process it at the speed of light.

And it makes you build a web of reference. A general knowledge. It forces you to become an expert in a whole lot of stuff. Philosophy, politics, the natural world. Canning of those baked beans.

And know this you readers. I am not trying to make you think that writers are dying for an art. But those words are like children. It has taken blood, sweat and tears to make them dance for your amusement and hopefully, thought. They are not cheap.

And this post is for all of you writers. It’s pain and terrible headaches. But each and every word that dances, each and every paragraph that gives you that secret hug that words can give is a gift. It’s worth the effort when they sing. And that beautiful lullaby is what puts us to sleep in the evening and at the same time makes us wake up in the middle of the night.

It’s not monsters under the bed. It’s those imbecile children singing that song. Those terrible infants made up of letters that need to be put in order so that they can sing a song of beauty. And I hate them so much. And I love them.

Because those words that float in your head can change the world.

Daily Rant. GDPR MicroRant Edition 27 May 2018.

If another web provider asks me to reaffirm my details I think I will go mad.

It’s not my fault that the nanny state of Europe has seen fit to institute one of the most ill advised Internet privacy laws on the face of the planet.

GDPR is like raising a Pitbull. It’s cute and fluffy and lovely, until it starts pissing on the carpet and bites someone’s arm off.

Did any of those geriatric gas bags in Strasbourg actually think for a second about the implications of instituting a privacy law that would have global impact.

I posit that they did not.

The impact of GDPR is enormous. It is the Nanny State run wild. It tears down the walls of private enterprise while those who toast its success sip on champagne and snack on canapes.

It leaves individual choice in tatters. If I want to visit ‘frogsinleotards dot com’ that is my choice. I assume personal responsibility. If I have a fetish about amphibians in ballerina gear that is my very personal cross to carry.

I don’t need someone to tell me that my personal details and a longing for tadpoles is public property. I know that.

Nice legs.

GDPR will not stop someone using my information for their own purposes. It does NOTHING to stop governments accessing my data.

And that is the problem. It is a measure of control. But it is controlling the wrong things. It puts a brake on private enterprise but does zero to stop an invasion of privacy by the worst offenders.