It’s a huge irk of mine that whenever a person screws over another person, it’s not because that person is just a twat; it’s because of their gender. If you’re finding a large number of one gender are arseholes, then it’s more likely that you’re picking the wrong people to be around than the whole gender comprises of such flawed characteristics. You wouldn’t do it with race, you wouldn’t say “all black people are dickheads” because one person shouldered you in the street. What makes it acceptable (other than ignorance and double standards)?
Maybe it’s something to draw comfort from, that you don’t make bad choices, just that you have been victim to the nature of the world. But it’s not, let’s face it. We’re at a time when true equality should be starting to shine through, and my idea of true equality is not defining race, gender or sexuality, because that way everything can be viewed from a purely individual standpoint.
My favourite part of the whole "Men are pigs" generalisation is that I am basically being called a pig, my friends who are nice guys and generally caring are being called pigs (despite the person never having met them) and my brothers are too. It's so ignorant when you think about it, it's sexism that completely mirrors racism. Is it a statement that men are so incapable of individuality that they should be bracketed together? Are men all alike? Do we eat the same food, have the same hobbies, show the same (lack of) compassion? Think it through.
And I’m not “one of the good ones” in regards to men. I wouldn’t mind being called a good person, because being a good person is completely different from being “the less murderous member of the Manson family”, which is what “one of the good ones” is pretty much implying.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
I am a torrenter and you should be too.
This is a huge topic and I'm really angry right now. And with what right? I'm angry that I can't receive television shows for free. But here is my logic.
I will buy the series I have downloaded on DVD if they are good, I really will, I own Battlestar Galactica on DVD and I'm still going to torrent the series. Why? Because I prefer the file formats. I hate having to sift through and locate a DVD to watch one episode. Call it lazy, but it's not, it's irritation at an obsolete file format. The amount of times I've had a DVD fuck up on me (rented from Blockbuster) it's unreal (about 6 times actually, quite real). But the point is, provided I get the money, I will buy the boxsets of the series I have downloaded, thus the whole "stealing from artists" logic is defeated. Fuck you MPAA I really do hate your shortsighted moneygrabbing ways-
Next: so we're allowed to stream the shows online for free after they've aired (see: 4oD) but the anti-P2P groups problem is that we own them instead of just streaming it? I hate streaming, it's inconsistent and without the internet it's useless, whereas downloading means you can enjoy shows anywhere, anytime. There's a hypocrisy that you can stream any music, but downloading it is punishable by prison time (maximum sentence). If I'm on a laptop, what's the difference between clicking twice to play a song from my downloads and clicking twice to find a song in my favourites? 2 years of assrape. That's what.
Virgin Media recently (very damn recently) blocked Piratebay. While there were a hundred proxies to bypass this within five minutes, (thus making their action pointless) it was a symbolic victory for the People's Republic of MPAA. We've taken a huge leap towards internet censorship, it's e-1984 in the making. Or China. That's right, those evil communists whom were judged so harshly for blocking certain sites are laughing their genitals off at the hypocrisy. And we did it for money too. Well played. Great morals.
Even if Piratebay was stopped more would spring up to fill the P2P void. And seriously, Piratebay is a goddamn legend, they've been through more court battles (and MPAA funded assassination attempts [on the servers, not the staff. Shit, I think I just gave the MPAA an idea]) than your mother has been through penii. That's a word. Or it will be, I'll make it so. Removing one distribution hub does nothing, it's like shifting the crackheads from the den in the east side of the city to the west. They're still in the city, they're still on crack. Nothing changes.
To the MPAA: And what the fuck? How stupid can you be? Are you still grasping for the golden years where people paid £10 a film without a complaint? That time is over, but your ability to make money is not. Why not look at Steam, who sell cheap products because they're downloaded. It would be easy to sell Movies and Series for £1, and get 10x the people buying them, and promoting them (because you can't deny torrenting increases the popularity of a show, which by proxy increases the merchandise sales and advertising sales for the next seasons of shows etc) and actually evolving to the internet world we live in. Offer the films/series in a selectable format (AVI, MKV, MP4) and I'm yours. But nothing you've done makes me want to buy DVDs. In fact it makes me hate you, because you're resorting to heavy-handed tactics. We're 5 years from Anti-P2P deathsquads roving around tracking packets, and 5 years away from V for Vendetta (which inconsequentially I legally own).
I will buy the series I have downloaded on DVD if they are good, I really will, I own Battlestar Galactica on DVD and I'm still going to torrent the series. Why? Because I prefer the file formats. I hate having to sift through and locate a DVD to watch one episode. Call it lazy, but it's not, it's irritation at an obsolete file format. The amount of times I've had a DVD fuck up on me (rented from Blockbuster) it's unreal (about 6 times actually, quite real). But the point is, provided I get the money, I will buy the boxsets of the series I have downloaded, thus the whole "stealing from artists" logic is defeated. Fuck you MPAA I really do hate your shortsighted moneygrabbing ways-
Next: so we're allowed to stream the shows online for free after they've aired (see: 4oD) but the anti-P2P groups problem is that we own them instead of just streaming it? I hate streaming, it's inconsistent and without the internet it's useless, whereas downloading means you can enjoy shows anywhere, anytime. There's a hypocrisy that you can stream any music, but downloading it is punishable by prison time (maximum sentence). If I'm on a laptop, what's the difference between clicking twice to play a song from my downloads and clicking twice to find a song in my favourites? 2 years of assrape. That's what.
Virgin Media recently (very damn recently) blocked Piratebay. While there were a hundred proxies to bypass this within five minutes, (thus making their action pointless) it was a symbolic victory for the People's Republic of MPAA. We've taken a huge leap towards internet censorship, it's e-1984 in the making. Or China. That's right, those evil communists whom were judged so harshly for blocking certain sites are laughing their genitals off at the hypocrisy. And we did it for money too. Well played. Great morals.
Even if Piratebay was stopped more would spring up to fill the P2P void. And seriously, Piratebay is a goddamn legend, they've been through more court battles (and MPAA funded assassination attempts [on the servers, not the staff. Shit, I think I just gave the MPAA an idea]) than your mother has been through penii. That's a word. Or it will be, I'll make it so. Removing one distribution hub does nothing, it's like shifting the crackheads from the den in the east side of the city to the west. They're still in the city, they're still on crack. Nothing changes.
To the MPAA: And what the fuck? How stupid can you be? Are you still grasping for the golden years where people paid £10 a film without a complaint? That time is over, but your ability to make money is not. Why not look at Steam, who sell cheap products because they're downloaded. It would be easy to sell Movies and Series for £1, and get 10x the people buying them, and promoting them (because you can't deny torrenting increases the popularity of a show, which by proxy increases the merchandise sales and advertising sales for the next seasons of shows etc) and actually evolving to the internet world we live in. Offer the films/series in a selectable format (AVI, MKV, MP4) and I'm yours. But nothing you've done makes me want to buy DVDs. In fact it makes me hate you, because you're resorting to heavy-handed tactics. We're 5 years from Anti-P2P deathsquads roving around tracking packets, and 5 years away from V for Vendetta (which inconsequentially I legally own).
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Why Katy Perry's "Part of Me" is terrible (the video, at any rate)
It’s not something that really needs to be explained, there are bigger beasts in this world to hunt, but here I am anyway.
Part of Me, for those of you who hate Katy Perry, is a song about a woman whose boyfriend cheats on her so she confronts him in his office and decides to join the marines. Before she does that she defiles her body by cutting off her hair and strapping her breasts, apparently as a reaction to being cheated on. Why is she strapping her breasts anyway? This isn’t Boys Don’t cry, she’s joining the Marines based on a poster entitled “The Woman’s Marines”, that’s a pretty big indicator that strapping your breasts is totally redundant.
I can handle her strive for independence and a need to seize power and find a confidence in herself… by becoming just like every other soldier around her. Hey, if she’d introduced a knee into her cheating ex’s balls at the beginning it would have been a short song, I get that. But here it is. It’s the constant flashbacks. She’s doing press-ups, pushing herself to be the best that she can be, and she trivialises it by reminding us that her sole motivation is she got cheated on. She can’t act for herself, it’s all about a giant “screw you” to the ex, who probably banged the hell out of that office clerk he was not-so-inconspicuously having relations with… by a huge glass window… presumably in a town his girlfriend lives in. Even at the end, as she goes to mow down some people, she’s still got that “and look at me now” look.
Yeah, you showed him. Well done, doesn’t seem petty at all. “Hey, just going to join the Marines. Why? Oh, my mom just told me my room was a mess, I’m livid. I don’t need clothes, just a pair of scissors to mangle my hair and a picture of the family to burn when I’m almost finished training. Cya, Dad.”
Friday, 27 January 2012
My Trip to the Library
Something I rarely experience is my almost obsessive organisation of something. In this case, something is coursework. All of it. So I decide, seeing the messy mismatched folders, that I will take them all out of their respective folders and staple them all ready for placement in larger folders.
One problem.
Some of the pieces of coursework are 60 pages thick. You know what staples 60 pages? Not my goddamn stapler, that’s what. Those staples just crumbled like bitches without even penetrating a page. Picture the scene from Superman with the bullet.
Anyway, I decide – you know what, fuck you, paper, I’m going to win this war. So I set off for the library, at twenty to eleven because the library is open until midnight. No wait, that’s Monday to Thursday, because they are bastards.
Not wanting to waste a journey, I move to the LINC hoping to find the fabled industrial stapler of legend. Unfortunately, Edge Hill have this awkward security system that requires your student card. I have no fucking clue where my student card is. It could be in a storm drain for all I know.
Anyway, I see a girl in there. Just one, and knock on the window loud enough for her to take off her headphones. She soundlessly opens the door, lets me in, I thank her. And then I realise there are no staplers here. The trusting staff of the LINC building have locked them away for the night in case somebody tries to feed them after midnight or gets them wet or some shit.
But here lies the problem: I have just inconvenienced a fellow student, and now I’m obliged to stay for 10 minutes so as to not have wasted her time. Not to worry though, I’ve found a forgotten pendrive, and e-mail the poor owner telling them I am going to smash it with a rock.
Actually, I send them a message promising it to be handed in tomorrow in the library. That’s right, I’m now committed to a journey based on a finding during an obligation to somebody located in a place I would not have frequented had the fucking library bothered to have a Monday-Friday service.
Next time I need a stapler, I’m going to just break in, and steal five. Because fuck you.
One problem.
Some of the pieces of coursework are 60 pages thick. You know what staples 60 pages? Not my goddamn stapler, that’s what. Those staples just crumbled like bitches without even penetrating a page. Picture the scene from Superman with the bullet.
Anyway, I decide – you know what, fuck you, paper, I’m going to win this war. So I set off for the library, at twenty to eleven because the library is open until midnight. No wait, that’s Monday to Thursday, because they are bastards.
Not wanting to waste a journey, I move to the LINC hoping to find the fabled industrial stapler of legend. Unfortunately, Edge Hill have this awkward security system that requires your student card. I have no fucking clue where my student card is. It could be in a storm drain for all I know.
Anyway, I see a girl in there. Just one, and knock on the window loud enough for her to take off her headphones. She soundlessly opens the door, lets me in, I thank her. And then I realise there are no staplers here. The trusting staff of the LINC building have locked them away for the night in case somebody tries to feed them after midnight or gets them wet or some shit.
But here lies the problem: I have just inconvenienced a fellow student, and now I’m obliged to stay for 10 minutes so as to not have wasted her time. Not to worry though, I’ve found a forgotten pendrive, and e-mail the poor owner telling them I am going to smash it with a rock.
Actually, I send them a message promising it to be handed in tomorrow in the library. That’s right, I’m now committed to a journey based on a finding during an obligation to somebody located in a place I would not have frequented had the fucking library bothered to have a Monday-Friday service.
Next time I need a stapler, I’m going to just break in, and steal five. Because fuck you.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
New Passport
Being as I need to leave the country soon, customs requires me to have a passport that didn't expire in 2009. It also helps to not have a 10 year old picture of yourself looking like a generic child in a Carbini hoodie.
After paying an unlubricated anal molestation fee, I was promised my identity, with picture pre-Deliverance would take ten working days. To their squeal-like-a-pig-boy credit, they did it in 9 days. And then I noticed. It's not waterproof. Your picture, which was previously and wisely laminated, is now completely open to the elements. Now I need to go to the effort of airtight bagging my passport, for it will surely melt at the lightest drop of precipitation. Better yet would be if it did get wet while I was out of the country, they might not let me leave. Hooray for steps backward. I hear the government has plans to make new cars with a stone cylinder for front wheels and get gambling addicts to drive them.
And, even better than the dive into the twenties (I'm not even sure they didn't laminate as early as that), if your passport gets smeared, then you need to pay for a new one. A brand new, £95 passport, which is equally smearable. Well played, customs, well played. Should I ever have my family murdered and find the guy who did it, I'll send him to you to get a passport, it's much worse than what prison would do to him.
After paying an unlubricated anal molestation fee, I was promised my identity, with picture pre-Deliverance would take ten working days. To their squeal-like-a-pig-boy credit, they did it in 9 days. And then I noticed. It's not waterproof. Your picture, which was previously and wisely laminated, is now completely open to the elements. Now I need to go to the effort of airtight bagging my passport, for it will surely melt at the lightest drop of precipitation. Better yet would be if it did get wet while I was out of the country, they might not let me leave. Hooray for steps backward. I hear the government has plans to make new cars with a stone cylinder for front wheels and get gambling addicts to drive them.
And, even better than the dive into the twenties (I'm not even sure they didn't laminate as early as that), if your passport gets smeared, then you need to pay for a new one. A brand new, £95 passport, which is equally smearable. Well played, customs, well played. Should I ever have my family murdered and find the guy who did it, I'll send him to you to get a passport, it's much worse than what prison would do to him.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Freshers Freshers everywhere and no PC's in the LINC
They're an army. I was one once, but I retired, or rather got promoted. And I swear they're getting more stupid (edited: stupider). Freshers. Even the name is stupid. Most freshers are fine; I'm an unjustifiably elitist douche (edited: douché), but I have not had the greatest experience of the "new breed".
In the LINC,(and because I have forgot the real acronym it is now)the Learning Information Networking Centre, you can go to print work if the library computer (edited: computers) is in use. Which it invariably is as there are usually over a thousand students just walking around campus. At the LINC, in the half hour window I had to print off an essay, I found myself stood in a roomfull of occupied computers. No, that isn't right, it was a roomful of occupied or broken computers. Obviously, those computers were being put to good use, students utilising the only available computers in university to - wait for it - read the comment section for youtube videos. Granted by "students" I meant "skinhead guy in green shirt with too much Lynx on", but even one person, wasting a computer, not even watching the video, with the sound off, reading the comments is enough. It's not like the rest of the room were busy, half the people were on Facebook, which is something I've done myself, and the rest were actually doing work. Youtube comment sections? We should just gather the mob now and lynch him. Waste of space.
Anyway, let's move on to the basis for my broad sweeping statements. After finally securing a computer that actually worked and didn't just advertise L:39 Radio, I printed off my essay, and was sat next to the computer, and so was able to bat the sports student's hand away from my work and collect it. Next I printed my bibliography. Oh wait, no, I didn't, because the sports student was still stood there waiting for her work. Mine did not print. I opened up the print queue, the most useful improvement I've seen Edgehill implement this year, and looked at the queue. There, right above my 87kb bibliography was what I assumed to be her file. The .pdf file. The 230mb pdf file. How the fuck do you get a 230mb .pdf file that's 18 pages long? That makes no sense. And the worst thing was, she'd sent it to the printer, via the network, 10 minutes ago, and it was halfway through.
After sharing an exasperated glance with the technician who was changing the paper, I cancelled my print and changed the printer, collected it and walked back in the room to see the mob I had called for to lynch the youtuber forming around the printer. I still had the printer queue open, 140/230mb, 11 items queued behind it. Well played, fresher, well played. You summed it up best when you asked "what have I done?". You done fucked up everything.
And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed impossible... 230mb .pdf file? They're made to save space - I have a 257kb .pdf file... and that's 60 pages. All I can guess is that every page contained a high res picture. Or every page was just a black page. Even if it is high def:
1. Why are you printing pictures?
2. Why are your pictures on a .pdf file?
3. Where the fuck did you find that .pdf file?
4. Why are you printing this? What course possibly needs you to print 18 pages of pictures? Oh wait, I can answer that one - sports.
5. Why, oh for the love of God why, would you bother to print them in black and white on standard printer paper on a laserjet if they're HD?
6. How did you get into university?
7. How have you lived so close to electrical appliances and not died yet?
And the reason I assumed she was a fresher was because if she made it into second year I weep for mankind.
In the LINC,(and because I have forgot the real acronym it is now)the Learning Information Networking Centre, you can go to print work if the library computer (edited: computers) is in use. Which it invariably is as there are usually over a thousand students just walking around campus. At the LINC, in the half hour window I had to print off an essay, I found myself stood in a roomfull of occupied computers. No, that isn't right, it was a roomful of occupied or broken computers. Obviously, those computers were being put to good use, students utilising the only available computers in university to - wait for it - read the comment section for youtube videos. Granted by "students" I meant "skinhead guy in green shirt with too much Lynx on", but even one person, wasting a computer, not even watching the video, with the sound off, reading the comments is enough. It's not like the rest of the room were busy, half the people were on Facebook, which is something I've done myself, and the rest were actually doing work. Youtube comment sections? We should just gather the mob now and lynch him. Waste of space.
Anyway, let's move on to the basis for my broad sweeping statements. After finally securing a computer that actually worked and didn't just advertise L:39 Radio, I printed off my essay, and was sat next to the computer, and so was able to bat the sports student's hand away from my work and collect it. Next I printed my bibliography. Oh wait, no, I didn't, because the sports student was still stood there waiting for her work. Mine did not print. I opened up the print queue, the most useful improvement I've seen Edgehill implement this year, and looked at the queue. There, right above my 87kb bibliography was what I assumed to be her file. The .pdf file. The 230mb pdf file. How the fuck do you get a 230mb .pdf file that's 18 pages long? That makes no sense. And the worst thing was, she'd sent it to the printer, via the network, 10 minutes ago, and it was halfway through.
After sharing an exasperated glance with the technician who was changing the paper, I cancelled my print and changed the printer, collected it and walked back in the room to see the mob I had called for to lynch the youtuber forming around the printer. I still had the printer queue open, 140/230mb, 11 items queued behind it. Well played, fresher, well played. You summed it up best when you asked "what have I done?". You done fucked up everything.
And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed impossible... 230mb .pdf file? They're made to save space - I have a 257kb .pdf file... and that's 60 pages. All I can guess is that every page contained a high res picture. Or every page was just a black page. Even if it is high def:
1. Why are you printing pictures?
2. Why are your pictures on a .pdf file?
3. Where the fuck did you find that .pdf file?
4. Why are you printing this? What course possibly needs you to print 18 pages of pictures? Oh wait, I can answer that one - sports.
5. Why, oh for the love of God why, would you bother to print them in black and white on standard printer paper on a laserjet if they're HD?
6. How did you get into university?
7. How have you lived so close to electrical appliances and not died yet?
And the reason I assumed she was a fresher was because if she made it into second year I weep for mankind.
Monday, 17 October 2011
On Writing
When I'm not trying to make a joke, when I'm trying to make a point or generally giving my opinion in blog posts, I sometimes feel like I'm wearing skintight clothes (yeah, enjoy that image). What I'm trying to say (whilst filling your head with the unholy image of manbreasts in a leotard) is that I'm self-conscious about my writing. Even now, I assume that somebody reading is thinking "well you should be self-conscious, you assuming, pretentious twat", which is fair enough. This is a blog, blogs are made of pretension and assumptions.
They're musings, from the mind, such as my current idea to make my own dishwasher using bleach, a laminated cardboard box and the shower head. This idea is flawless. Not only will there be food residue remaining, at some point I will imbibe a lethal level of bleach. Some would argue I should use more conventional dish-cleaning products, such as washing-up liquid. To those people I say this: Marie Curie was flossing with uranium and look how that turned out. I am destined to be a posthumous pioneer of the Homemade Ordinary Bleach Wash-a-matron (or HOBWAM), and they shall toast to my glory, as they raise bowls with bits of old meat and poisonous cleaning products still stuck to them.
Not sure how I got onto this really, it seems I was driving (metaphorically) and decided to (metaphorically) drive off a cliff. It's how the mind is. Without absolute stupidity the world would be a very boring place (and really, when you think about it, the HOBWAM could be a great way of instigating natural selection). Go team Darwin!
They're musings, from the mind, such as my current idea to make my own dishwasher using bleach, a laminated cardboard box and the shower head. This idea is flawless. Not only will there be food residue remaining, at some point I will imbibe a lethal level of bleach. Some would argue I should use more conventional dish-cleaning products, such as washing-up liquid. To those people I say this: Marie Curie was flossing with uranium and look how that turned out. I am destined to be a posthumous pioneer of the Homemade Ordinary Bleach Wash-a-matron (or HOBWAM), and they shall toast to my glory, as they raise bowls with bits of old meat and poisonous cleaning products still stuck to them.
Not sure how I got onto this really, it seems I was driving (metaphorically) and decided to (metaphorically) drive off a cliff. It's how the mind is. Without absolute stupidity the world would be a very boring place (and really, when you think about it, the HOBWAM could be a great way of instigating natural selection). Go team Darwin!
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