Buy for the Future!

I have just returned from a shopping experience at Morrison's and regular readers and those that know me will know I am a tolerant man, I don't allow much to wind me up, but today is different. Having just spent an hour standing behind couples staring at fish fingers wondering whether to buy the tuna friendly dolphin flavour ones or the lungfish flavour ones, I have come with a new way of shopping. Pay attention this is the future!

Every Little Helps...

The customers (or drones, if you prefer) will be brought to the site of the supermarket (now renamed food factory) on special monorail transport, each carriage of which will have separate compartments big enough to house one drone. From the moment they step onto the monorail a door will close behind them, therefore trapping them until released by the robot driver upon arrival at the food factory. The drones will not be released simultaneously but one at a time allowing each drone to step off the monorail onto a moving walkway, again with individual places per drone. I'm not sure how the drones will be fixed in place here, but it might involve magnets, which would require everyone in the country to have metal sheeting inserted into the soles of the their feet at birth. This moving 'walkway' will carry the line of drones into the opening of the food factory and stop them in front of a computer terminus. At this juncture the drones will punch in their requirements to sustain them for another week. It will be a simple menu, with little choice, ie, wholemeal bread, multi-grain bread, kibbled bread, rye bread and fruit bread will be under the single button marked 'BREAD'. Choice confuses drones. It confuses and frightens them. The less choice the better. People operate quicker when there is less choice. So you would have a computer screen that looks something like this:

Press your buttons now!

Obviously this is still a work in progress, I feel that there may be too many meat and vegetable choices. But not to worry, the future is still ages away yet, so we've got time to work on it. The drone would have five minutes to press each button the appropriate amount of times for each product they wanted. Then they press done. After five minutes, whether the drones have finished or not the walkway will whisk them around the shop. First stop will be a machine that fits a shopping basket to the drones front, again, maybe through magnets and more invasive surgery. The computer will have worked out which drones want what from the computer terminal they were standing in front of and will stop in front of the large vending machines that make up the food factory. The food will be packaged in a similar way to this:

Om Nom Nom

Each drone will have their choices dropped into their baskets and when all have been thus served, the walkway will transport all the drones to the checkout, where a computer scanner will minus the cost of the food from the amount of work hours the drones have stored in their implanted computer chips that are stored in the frontal lobes of the the drone's brain. They earn this virtual money by spending the week working in munitions factories to feed the on going war with America. Yes, this my friends is the future of the shopping trip as we know it! Hopefully it won't be long off now!!

Keep the eating! Keep them fighting!!

I went to see Black Swan on Friday night, here is a film review ala Logan Josh:

Natalie Portman plays Nellie Deane, a country secretary who comes to the big city in search of fame, fortune and gold dust. She immediately falls in with a bad crowd at her work place and swiftly loses her job by setting off the smoke alarms with an unauthorised fireworks display in the boss' office. Losing her income means she loses her penthouse flat in the heart of the city and has to move in with her on-off boyfriend Crash Barfight (Bob Carolgees sans Spit the Dog) in the suburbs. Portman befriends the neighbour, a Mexican cleaner who doesn't speak a word of English (a beautiful portrayal by an uncredited Esther Rantzen). Portman and Rantzen embark on a series of moral crusades against the uncontrolled and illegal fishing of the River Hudson by the Mafia. The city government previously having turned a blind eye to Mafia bosses throwing grenades into the river to farm the livestock and sell the catch to nursing homes for hyper inflated prices. Portman and Rantzen change this blinkered view and also eventually win over the hearts of the mafia bosses, Portman marrying one of the 'made guys' in the process. Carolgees returns to the scene however and attempts to upset the apple cart by literally upsetting an apple cart in the street. It is his metaphor for his undying love for Portman. She realizes she married the wrong man and uses her mafia connections to have her husband killed so she can return to the arms of her former lover. They marry and live happily in Montana farming cats.

'Four Stars (out of 100)' Daily Bugle

'Weak and emasculating' Metropolis Daily

'A fine cast let down by a weak script' Gotham News

Hate Songs in E Minor

On Monday I went to the cinema to see 127 Hours, it was OK, a bit like an extended pop video, just like all of Danny Boyle's films are,and if you know what the ending is already you are pretty much just waiting for it to happen. I thought it would have made a better documentary, given that Aron filmed himself as he was trapped. Anyway, being in the cinema got me thinking, I was surrounded by arseholes as usual. Cinemas seem to be full, these days, of cunts that don't know how to behave in cinemas. What do I mean? Well everyone that goes to the cinema seems intent on stuffing themselves so full of sweets and popcorn and nachos(!), it's fucking disgusting. Just because you've left your house to go and see a film doesn't mean that you have to ram as much sugar and saturated fat down your fucking mouth as possible. I don't sit at home watching telly whilst shovelling hand fulls of jelly tots in my gaping maw, do I? People always buy far too much as well, as I'm leaving the place I always see massive amounts of left over food all over people's seats. There's enough food left over from the average viewing to feed the five thousand. FUCKING EYES TOO BIG FOR YOUR BELLY! SAVE YOUR FUCKING MONEY NEXT TIME, YOU FUCKING ATROCIOUS REPTILE!!

I need more cake to get me through Avatar

Not only that but people sit through films discussing them, you're not BARRY FUCKING NORMAN, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND LET THE REST OF THE CINEMA ENJOY THE FILM!!! Can't they keep their thoughts to themselves for two hours? Does the rest of the room have to endure their verbal diarrhea?

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!!

These things are not the only things that get me mad about the cinema at Centretainment. The ceiling lights in the picture house are off centre. I notice it every time I go. It makes me mad. Right, listen, the ceiling is made up of lots of what appear to be two foot by two foot square tiles. There are three rows of lights running from the back of the room to the front and these are embedded in the tiles. But they're not embedded in the centre of the tiles, rather they are haphazardly placed within the surface area of the tile. This begs the question, which came first the tiles or the lights? If the lights were there first it would explain why they are off centre from the tiles. But if that's the case, then what was there before the tiles? What held the lights up? And just why was whatever it was removed to make way for the tiles? If the tiles came first, you'd think that the electrician who put the lights in would have centred them in a tile, keeping an aesthetic within the confines of the movie theatre. Also, the lights are not even equally aligned down the ceiling. One of the rows is closer to the wall than it's opposite number. It's like the whole thing was designed by a gang of retarded monkeys with no hands. SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?? Is it all there just to try to fuck with my mind? Am I being toyed with by Centretainment, is this all just a massive psychological game to see how long I last before my mind shatters into a million pieces?

You are literally blowing my mind...

Berny and I were chatting on site the other day when he asked the question 'what's your favourite love song?' Given that Berny is a Punk and still thinks it's 1976, I would have thought his idea of a love song would be something along the lines of Bell-End Bop by GBH it quite surprised me when he said his favourite love song was 'Hello' by Lionel Ritchie. This was because a girl he once knew had given him the single as a sign of her affection. Being the little Rat Scabies punk he was he placed the disc upon the turntable, allowed the opening bars to begin then promptly threw the fucking thing out of the window. This song is not only hilarious for that reason, watch the video, at about three and half minutes through, Lionel, the protagonist calls the woman of his dreams. She's blind, not only does he call this vulnerable young woman in the middle of the night but he waits nearly five full seconds before saying anything. All she can hear is his heavy breathing down the line, then he bellows 'HELLO!' at her. The poor girl must be frightened out of her wits. He may as well be saying 'I'm outside your house and can see you. Get ready cos I'm coming in and I've got a knife!' Later about five minutes into the video she sculpts a clay head that is supposed to look like Lionel, it turns out more like one of the heads on Easter Island. But she is blind after all...

The crops are failing! Raise another statue for the Gods!!

Berny also asked me what my favourite Gay Anthem was, my vote is always in the YMCA camp (don't excuse the pun...). Berny's was something by Kylie. There was a silence for a while until Berny broke it by asking what my favourite heterosexual song was. I told him Sniper At The Fag Parade by Meat Shits.

Can I get this at my local HMV?

I'm moving to York tomorrow, the house doesn't have internets connection yet so there may not be any more postings for a wee while. We'll see how we get on.

New Post, Old Post

I was going through my documents and deleting some of the shit when I stumbled upon the following post from a very early Blog I used to write on Myspace. I deleted all the entries from that particular blog in a fit of stupidity. Scraps of it survive, some of the Singapore stuff survives, as I've shown you before, but this is the last bit of it from when I was working in Gamestation and is dated from 28/09/2006, enjoy:

Today was the last day I shall ever work for Gamestation!! Hooray!! I have decided to take tomorrow off as I would only be losing thirty six quid and I can’t face another day in that fucking place. When I arrived this morning there was a little standing around as all the senior staff were away, Jo was recovering from some unexplained illness, Dawn was away, again with little explanation. So the warehouse was given over to Dennis, Monkey Boy and Steve the Fat Bullfrog. It wasn't so much the lunatics taking over the asylum as the monkeys taking over the zoo. I also saw blood on the toilet seat this morning, so the whole thing threatened to turn into The Lord of the Flies. I can just imagine all the staff stripped to the waist, covered in war paint, with Rob wielding the Conch and Monkey Boy running about with a Pigs head

I had no pen so I stole Vin’s pen, when I had finished at five I hid it, just to give me some amusement in my absence. How did I know it was Vin’s pen? It had written upon it: ‘Vin’s pen. Hail Satan.’

A source close to me was working with Dennis for the afternoon and the conversation came up about films and favourite films. Dennis’ top five films consists of the first four Rocky movies. He wasn't keen on the fifth in the series, my source tells me. I wondered what order he put this top four in? Does he think four is better than two? Is Ivan Drago a better opponent than Clubber Lang, say, from three? The mind boggles.

I walked past were Mark was working on the scanning computers about five. If you remember that Simpsons where Homer gets really fat to take time off work and ends up using a computer at home. Well, he increases productivity by using a wooden woodpecker on a spring to tap the key. Mark appeared to be doing the same, although it was with a Headknocker Beavis (from Beavis and Butthead) doll. He was mashing the keyboard for all he was worth with the model when I passed by. The Irony was probably lost on him though.

The bus journey home was terrible. I was victimised by a four year old in a pram (what the fuck was she doing in a fucking pram at that age?) who insisted that she put her mother’s bus ticket in my pocket. Her mother screaming at her, the only way a Chav mother can ‘Stop it (Insert Generic Chav Name: Britney, Jade, Chardonnay etc.), I’ll smack you if you don’t stop.’ Whilst texting various people on her mobile phone. The fucking cunts. As I said in an earlier entry, I really believe there should be some sort of IQ test for anyone who wants to breed.