Why I (almost) heart Bill Maher too

The always funny Mr. Graham Linehan today posted this on his blog, and I feel that I have to agree with him. Mostly. Well, thing is, I've always liked Real Time (though it has suffered from the lack of writers and some of the better guests apparently refusing to cross picket lines), and in general terms I tend to be in agreement with Bill on most things. I'm thinking here primarily of his views on religion and Bush being a moron.

But then you have his thing with animal rights. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely against needless suffering no matter what species you are. But getting into bed with PETA is a mistake. I think that if most animal-lovers who donate cash to PETA knew that there core ideology embraced the banning of animal food products, of pet ownership, and of essential animal medical trials (not to mention having links to the no-shit animal rights equivalent of Al Qaeda), then they may reconsider. Check this out:

That aside, you also have Bill cosying up to creationist Ron Paul (although to be fair, he may not have known he was that crazy). And the bit where he wished Dick Cheney dead...

...And the earlier bit where he said the 911 hijackers were brave to have killed themselves in the process of committing mass murder (footage not found). But apart from that, he's a pretty cool guy. And I'm not being snide, I do think he's a cool guy.

UPDATE: Anonymous (if that is his/her real name) has pointed out in the comments section that I wasn't fully clear in my remarks regarding the 9/11 thing above. To clarify, I acknowledge that Bill was responding to the various pundits who had unanimously labeled the hijackers as cowards. Maher said, on his show Politically Incorrect if memory serves, that it was ridiculous to say these jihadists were cowards as they had made the decision to kill themselves in defense of their principles, and such a decision obviously takes courage.

Now this is an example of left-wing reactionism. I consider myself to be a liberal, but you have to keep yourself grounded in reality. The attacks of 9/11 were cowardly. If Al Qaeda had a problem with American military presence in their holy lands, why not get all their guys together and concentrate an attack on a US base in Saudi Arabia? No, much easier to sneak Stanley knives onto planes and crash them into a major tourist attraction. And then get an express pass for themselves and their families into paradise. Deluded, yes. Courageous, no.

That said, you gotta love Maher for calling it as he sees it, standing by his remarks and getting up in Bill O'Reilly's grill so often. 

Now I'm going to try to lay off the serious stuff for a while. It gives me indigestion.

There may be another name for Japanese Ingenuity...

The word autism springs to mind but that may just be me being mean. Take a look here to see what I mean.

And as for the electronic toilet, see the below pic from friend-of-the-blog HDK...

I'm reminded of the words of Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake on being tortured by the Japanese during WW2: "I don't think they wanted me to say anything. It was just their way of having a bit of fun, the swines. Strange thing is they make such bloody good cameras..."

For the love of god, pick up the phone!!

Sublime.

Spunky Bus and Work Update

Okay, so maybe working fulltime is not conducive to writing a blog, along with all my other obscure divarsions... But I will persevere! 

So this morning I got on the bus to work as per usual, sat down and stuffed the old laptop case down between my feet. It was then that I noticed a pale viscous substance slowly sliding down the back of the seat in front of me.

Now, I can't tell you what I thought it might have been, and I can only offer in my defense the fact that it was somewhere in the region of 7am and the brain doesn't kick in till around 11.30. But for some reason I felt the need to investigate further and touch it with the tip of my right index finger. I mean, what the hell was I going to do, taste it?? I then, having been jolted awake by stark realisation, spent the rest of the journey wiping my finger red-raw against the fabric of the seat (having moved down towards the back a few rows).

What the fuck? What gets me about this is that it was quite obviously a recent discharge. So what the hell kind of person gets on the bus before first light and decides to give himself a five-fingered Mary? And was he still there on the bus when I got on? Watching gleefully as the first sucker sat there and got his yucky joy juice all over their good trousers? 

Worst of the lot was I got a streak of it stuck to my bag while trying to extricate myself from the sticky situation and I'm having trouble getting rid of it. Dublin Bus, we clearly need a contingent of armed Bus Marshals vigilant and ready to put a stop to this kind of public masturbation on our public transport. I will be happy to join an interim volunteer force until arrangements can be made...

As for work, well having been promoted recently (yes, that's right ladies, and I'm still single...) I've been putting in a lot more hours so I won't look like I'm slacking off and resting on my laurels. That said, a few interesting things have happened in work-land that I'd like to blather about, so I'll get on that soonish. Maybe at the weekend. Or later in the month. Don't pressure me, I'm on a knife-edge here!

Fight Crime from your Own Bedroom!!

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Mini-Review Corner - The Arts...

It's Superbowel Sunday (sic) and since I am allergic to all things with balls (myself notwithstanding) and have no interest in the outcome of the New England Barebacks vs the Cleveland Steamers (or whoever it may be), I thought I might take the time to give some short reviews of the entertainment materials lately to pass into my brain-sphere.

Cinema

Juno is the latest from the director of Thank You for Smoking and son of the guy who did Ghostbusters, Jason Reitman. Now, Thank You for Smoking was good, but felt somehow derivative and wasn't quite as funny as I thought it could have been. That said, it did show a lot of potential.

And Juno fulfills that potential. With sharp dialogue and a great cast, it has just about everything his previous film had, but somehow hangs together better. The unlikely central relationship of (the both excellent) Ellen Page and Michael Cera is sweet without resorting to mawkish sentimentality. The supporting cast is perfectly populated with the always watchable likes of JK Simmons and Jason Bateman. And the soundtrack is so good that I may even venture out into the world of real-life shops to get the CD. All in all, three and a half thumbs up.

Literature

The Road by Cormac McCarthy is the author's latest, an obvious reflection on having children late in life. (Obvious that is when you learn he has an eight year old kid and he's in his mid-sevnties. Dirty oul'flah.) Set in a post apocalyptic America where a nuclear winter has done away with most plant and animal life, and the majority of surviving humans have turned to tribalism and roasting babies on spits, the novel tells the story of a man and his young son making their way south to where (they hope) the weather will be more clement and people more neighbourly.

This book, while unrelentingly bleak and thoroughly depressing, is nonetheless utterly compelling and could easily be read in a single sitting. (I just used too many words containing "ing".)  An excellent novel about the fragility of humanity and the importance of holding onto it. Expect the movie adaptation to be a whole lot more upbeat.

Music

"Hey look at this," said my friend Sheila, pointing at a poster in Lemon Jelly. "Thomas Kitt, that must be David Kitt's cousin or something, right?"

"Could be," says I.

"I don't believe it, his new album is called Kitt Happens. That's so corny."

"Yeah," I agree.

"We could have thought of a better name."

"What, like Kitt-Head?"

"Yeah," she laughs, "or Full of Kitt."

"Or This is Some Bad-ass Kitt."

She laughs again. "Aw, we're so witty."

"Yeah," I agree.

*Sigh.* Then we left.

And Finally...

Another gem from maverick filmmaker and YouTuber Willonzo. In his own words, this is ART, mother-lickers!!

Pinch Punch, First Day of the Month! (And Thievery Update)

I once went out with a girl who, on the first day of each month, would  punch me in the upper arm twice and say "Pinch, punch, first day of the month!" Such was my lack of interest in this obscure ritual, I never asked her why she was hitting me, or why she didn't pinch my arm and then hit me just once. Ah well, she's a malignant bitch and she's long gone from my life now, so I guess I'll never know.

(I should say that even though the above might sound like a monthly episode of domestic abuse, the blows were nominal.)

Anyway, enough of that. It may be Friday night and I may well be sitting at home alone posting this instead of being out drinking. And condoms may well be cheaper now than they've been for years. But who needs women and booze so long as I have my housemates. 

A Correction

Stinky Magee is not Stinky Magee's real name. The Stinky part at least (though he does stink). Nor is his first name Fingers or Ulick. In fact, no real names of civilians will be used in this blog, in order to protect the innocent. That said, Sean O'Dea is a thieving bastard.  

"Was anything stolen from your room, Sean?" This was Laura asking Sean yesterday after she found out some jewelry thing or other had been taken the night the valuer came over.

"Nah, don't think so," said Sean.

Pause.

"Actually, it was me, I took your stuff," he says.

"What?"

"Yeah, for a laugh. Then it went on too long and it wasn't very funny."

The fecker stole the stuff thinking we'd pin it on the valuer, then chickened out and said it was a joke. And this confirms my suspicion that O'Dea's been in my room on other occasions. I once wrote the words "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY FUCKING ROOM??" on the inside lid of a box of Cornflakes I had under my bed. He couldn't look me in the eye for a week. Proof positive...

Fillum Showcase

A quick cinematic interlude - Auteur filmmaker and best interweb buddy Willonzo brings us his insights into the blockbuster YouTube movie "Christmas in Dublin"

Nice.

Blizzard Warning

Yesterday at work, the inane chattering turned to the weather forecast and, much like Chinese whispers, the conversation ended in a bold declaration of "Arctic storm to hit Dublin tomorrow morning toaster cocktail vulva". 

"I won't see you tomorrow," said the annoying Welsh bloke sitting next to me, "I'll be at home making snowmen!" High-sterical. Turns out the fat bastard had the day off anyway. Prick.

And this morning, what do you think greeted me at the front door? That's right, the ground was resplendent with a dazzling blanket of slight dampness.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but it hasn't snowed in Dublin for what, about twenty years?? When will people realise that snow is a thing of the past for us thanks to the wonder that is climate change. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Snow, much like Christmas (with which snow is most famously affiliated), is only really of any interest to kids. Once you reach adulthood, Christmas is no good because there's no Santa and snow is a pain in the cock because you have to go to work. So enough of this talk of snow, I say.

More Bang for your Buck*

VAT down on condoms!!! 

Great, now I can afford to buy some more of those funny smelling water balloons my nephews love so much.

*Cliched headline at no extra charge.