Friday, 19 June 2020

My Journey to a Parallel Universe

A true story...

When I was in my mid to late 20s, I drove a Lada.

Not the most fashionable of cars - in fact it was about as fashionable as my mullet - but it got us from A to B, most of the time.

Mine was light brown in colour.

I always knew it was light brown, so when I went to Halfords to buy some paint to cover up some of the scratches and dents, I bought the light brown Lada paint.

Then when I got home and went to apply the paint, my Lada was inexplicably cream, and had always been cream coloured.

The only explanation I have ever been able to come up with is, in that moment I slipped into a parallel universe where everything was the same except the colour of my Lada.

I sometimes wonder how the life of the Kim from the parallel universe I swapped places with, who bought cream paint at Halfords and suddenly found his Lada was brown, has turned out...

Sunday, 9 February 2020

Gritty Realism...

Once there was a man who lived in a small hut on the edge of the village.

If asked, he could tell people exactly how they could achieve anything they wanted.

Now if this was an epic saga, it would tell of heroes who asked all the right questions and went on to achieve their hearts’ desires.

Instead, this is a tale based in gritty social realism, which means very few people ever got round to asking him anything.

And those that did always had a good excuse for not acting on his advice, so continued to live their lives unfulfilled.

Monday, 6 January 2020

The Price of Immortality

What they never tell you about immortality is it doesn't come with increased intelligence.

For sure, the extra decades and centuries of life bestow a certain amount of experience, perhaps even wisdom, but now I get to spend all of eternity aware of my limitations.

After a while dreams and ambitions become pretty pointless.

And I have to accept I will always need to find a teenager to help me with the latest technology...

Tuesday, 17 December 2019

Look to the future...

When we stop looking to the future,
when we stop imagining what could be,
when we stop fighting for possibilities,
when we become obsessed with nostalgia,
when we live in the past,
when we no longer look ahead, only behind,
that is when we become old,
that is when we are only treading water until we die.

Sunday, 22 September 2019

Sometimes a line hits you so deeply, so profoundly...

I'm the one that's going to have to die
When it's time for me to die
So let me live my life the way I want to
- Jimi Hendrix

Friday, 13 September 2019

Tuesday, 20 August 2019

Brexit and Democracy

The essential problem with Brexit has come about because we use a version of "democracy" to govern the country.

Democracy is a system that inherently makes big changes as difficult as possible.

As soon as you stick a handful of people together – from any cross section of any society – there will be disagreements.

Disagreements lead to heated discussions, arguments, and eventually a level of compromise that doesn't really satisfy anyone and has usually not moved too far from the original starting point.

In terms of making real changes to people's lives, it's a useless system.

The two major benefits, however, are:
1) it prevents tyrants from getting a strong foothold for any length of time, and
2) while the politicians spend all their time endlessly arguing, the rest of us can get on with our lives in relative peace.

Which, by and large, is what most people want.

The problems really pile up though when real change is needed. The democratic system just isn't designed for it.

There is no solution to Brexit that is not going to horrify and anger at least 20 million people.

Wednesday, 2 January 2019

The wrong room

"If you're the smartest person in the room, you're in the wrong room."

Saturday, 14 April 2018

The heavy weight of responsibility

If I found myself trapped in the body of a snail, ambitions or a heavy sense of responsibility to make the world a better place would be utterly pointless.

As it would if I was trapped in the body of a seagull.

Or a monkey.

In each case, if I knew I was there for the rest of my life, I would just have to make the most of it and enjoy whatever I could, within the parameters of my existence.

Is it so different if I'm trapped in the body of a human?

Saturday, 17 June 2017

Falling into my own trap

I’m visiting Facebook less and less – and to be honest, it’s because I can’t stand the bile and hatred pouring out the screen at me. I’m not talking about racists and homophobes and right-wing extremists – I’m talking about the violent rants against Trump, Brexit, the Conservative Government and the like.

When you scream your venom at these targets, who are you converting to your cause? Who suddenly says, “You know what? I think you’re right! There was me thinking it was OK to allow tenants to burn in preventable fires, for all foreigners to be called terrorists, and for the disabled to be punished for not being like me, but your vitriolic outburst has made me understand the error of my ways!”

I get it – I know you’re frustrated with the world – but spewing your righteous outrage all over Facebook doesn’t create a single convert. You’ve already unfriended everyone who disagrees with you. In fact, if you realise for a moment this is aimed at you, then you’ll probably unfriend me.

Stop telling me how shit the world is. I know it already. Your verbal diarrhoea isn’t calling me to action. It isn’t even calling you to action. Puking your frustration on your friends isn’t making the world a better place – it’s just adding to the horror.

It’s getting to the point where I’m opening my Facebook feed with trepidation.

It feels like where people used to be witty and wry, they are now just cynical and grumpy.

Is this who were are becoming? Bitter and twisted old men and women who just want to shout “bastards!” at the world.

I want to use social media to keep in touch with friends, to remind myself there are good people around, to be inspired to do better things and be a better person. But it seems anything from a third to a half of my feed is packed with the apoplectic spasms of the righteously outraged.

It’s making me ill.

Unfortunately I can’t now put this up on Facebook as this rant has just done the very thing I have accused others of doing...