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All posts in category: Life

So who made you a professional 'offendee'?

  • June 18, 2015
  • Finance/Law Life Work
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

If somebody says something in private that is overheard and reported, someone else not remotely involved seems to get 'offended'? Don't get me wrong, I don't condone any kind of aggressive, hateful, racist or derogatory public statements. In private surely we have the right to say certain things that in the 'open' world are of course inappropriate. Again I am not encouraging hateful diatribe but rude words, blue jokes, clichéd stereotypes can have a role in private conversation. If I tell a joke about a Scotsman, an Irishman and an Englishman, why should some Scotsman I have never met and doesn’t have a clue of the context in which the joke was made be offended? Yes the joke might be offensive if it was a public statement but that’s the whole point. It wasn’t. It’s the 'offendee' who made it public. These offendees not only have had their humour chromosome removed but appear to get their facts wrong. The list is endless and laughable if the consequences were not so serious. Of the examples scattered over the internet one that I found nearly unbelievable was that of Mr. David Howard, who was working for the US Government when he used the word niggardly in a speech to describe a certain expenditure!! People were offended and he was forced to resign. The total lack of understanding of the use of the English Language is the real offence here!

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

"Eggs benedict with a tazer stun gun on the side, please."

  • June 4, 2015
  • Finance/Law Food & Drink Life Work
  • View all 4 Comments
Why...

Must people feel compelled to have business breakfast meetings?

Breakfast is a time when the brain needs a kick-start of coffee to aid gentle re-entry into reality’s atmosphere. You start by reading about the latest world shattering crisis from the Kardashian family and end with the less trivial matters of Wall Street or Washington.

The idea I would agree to spend those delicious moments of transformation with someone pitching a financing opportunity whilst wearing a tie loud enough to deafen, is ludicrous. The loudest thing I am prepared to listen to is ‘Snap, Crackle and Pop’.

I am pretty certain that all the bad deals were made over breakfast...

"No Josephine, I have made up my mind. We fight at Waterloo tomorrow. Now pass me a croissant." 17th June 1815

"So. All agreed? We change the Coke formula and call the old one Coke Classic. Waffles all round" April 23 1985

"No one will give a shit? Break in if you have to. Just get that stuff out of the Watergate building. More bagels?" October 9th 1972

I imagine evening meals where your brain is fully functioning are therefore so much more successful…

"So Miss Rowling, everyone else has turned down your Harry Potter book? May I offer you more wine?" May 10 1996

"Ok Winston, D-Day is a go. Now another brandy and cigar?" June 4th 1944

"Let’s raise a toast to our little company. And we’ll call it EBay." September 2 1995

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

It’s my language, your accent….Mate

  • May 28, 2015
  • Life Love Politics
  • View all 5 Comments
Why...

When visiting Texas, can I barely resist the urge to yell ‘Yee-Haw’ (a must if on a horse)? If in Alabama I continually add ‘Y’all’ to every sentence. As for California I cringe as I find myself muttering ‘No problem’, ‘whatever’, ‘I’m good’ or worst of all ‘I’m stoked’. (I should be with a red hot poker up my backside every time I say that). I know to every local I must sound as fake as a flight attendant’s farewell, but I suppose it makes up for the occasional American who greets my English tones with… "Cor blimey stone the crows, do yer want-a-cuppa bloody tea, mate?" Quite apart from sounding like Mary Poppins, chimney sweep Dick Van Dyke, whose accent is as far removed from true cockney as tact is from President Putin, the speaker is also oblivious as to how to actually use the word ‘bloody’ and ‘mate’. (This is a short blog; you’d need an extra memory chip in your computer to be able to download why this is so wrong. Just take it from me, it is). However this person is cheery and thinks his English sounds are welcoming to me. Why? My beloved wife is an American with a delightful lilting Southern Accent. It’s as clear and fresh as a mint julep despite living here for over 20 years. Yet when she goes home they all accuse her of sounding English. At first I thought all her relatives were either stone deaf or making a joke but actually I realised it was not her accent, but her use of words and syntax that made my wife sound ‘furrren’. ‘Lift’ instead of elevator, ‘flat’ instead of ‘apartment’, ‘fag’ instead of ‘cigarette’ (always a dangerous misunderstanding that one) and our curious use of ending a sentence with ‘indeed’. Deny as much as you like but no matter how jingoistic, patriotic or linguistically challenged you are, we all pick up accents and grammatical mannerisms if we are someplace long enough; they stick like gum on a shoe. The reason has to be a subliminal yet natural desire for a human to fit in and be accepted; subconsciously we seem to have this strong desire when we meet someone who is different from us, to try to act and sound like them… even if we cannot speak like their language. I wonder if this knee-jerk urge to communicate is the most powerful argument for our inbuilt resistance against bigotry and illogical racism? We like to fit in, be accepted by strangers, rather than be apart from our fellow man.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Fill her up please with Starbucks latte and can you check the oil is sun factor 50?

  • May 14, 2015
  • Food & Drink Kids/Family/Relations Life Travel/Nature
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Can I no longer find signs at motorway service stations that say Fuel Only This Way→? They have disappeared over the past few years. Now, before I find the pumps, I am led like a piggy with a ring through my nose past the retail equivalent of a children’s honey trap; an entire village of tat. I feel so sorry for families with kids in the back, who, on seeing these places bounce around like squash balls on heat wanting to get out and empty their parents’ wallet. On entering these cluster of shops I am simply blown away at the kind of stuff you can now buy, as well as what you can’t (i.e. indicator bulbs for your car). Quite apart from just about every franchise that sells you a ‘heart-attack in-a-sack’, there are video games rooms, playpens for toddlers, make-up bars, CD’s, DVDs, clothing and numerous toys….some so large I’d need an articulated truck to take them home. Let’s not forget the wide selection of abandoned puppies. Kids are running around the place screaming and yelling from a massive overdose of sugar yet there is always a solitary Janitor sharing my ablutions in the bathroom along with the triangle warning sign of a slippery floor. Sadly at my age a full tank of fuel lasts much longer than I do so rest stops are quite frequent, but the only time I have ever fallen over in the bathroom was due to alcohol not an attendant’s mop.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Friend=Foe

  • May 7, 2015
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Life Love
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Do I keep getting contacted by people who claim to be my ‘friends’ yet most are as unknown to me as a humour chromosome is to an Immigration official? One of the biggest casualties of the internet has been the murder of the true definition of a favourite noun: Friend. The Oxford Dictionary definition: A person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. Current definition: Anybody who is able to contact you. ‘Privacy’ would seem to be the digital reverse of ‘friendship’. “Internet friendship sites increase communication between people, ” I hear you cry. Bullsh*t. Friendship is two way; it requires time and continual interaction. These sites are in fact the ultimate expression of the self, the antithesis of communication. The data is nearly always one way. The sender does not care what you think, just that you read them. But he or she is quite happy to blindly impose on your time under the cover of somehow being a friend. I suppose a burglar is always grateful to those people saying they are on holiday or are walking around with an engagement ring. However if I have something really personal I want to enjoy with someone I’d pick up a phone, send an email or, heavens above, even write a letter. Apart from a persistent Jehovah’s Witness who rings my door bell and calls me friend, the digital rot all started with early sites like Friends Reunited. This let loose a bunch of people from the past, mainly old school contempories, who reached out of nowhere and dragged you back to the past. Suddenly I was being tracked down by people I vaguely remembered but had never kept up with…… for good reason. They were never my friends in the first place. I didn’t like them when half size so why would I want to be in contact with them in full adult form? As I went to an all-boys school, these ‘friends’ from the past did not even come with the veiled promise of some quick tryst to make up for what I missed all those years ago. (They say it’s the ones that got away that haunt you forever. I can understand why divorce rates shot up amongst those from mixed schools who were contacted). However at least this bunch could claim to have at one time known me. They were simply guilty of stretching the meaning of acquaintance into friend. Sadly that was just the beginning.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

My ears are much better than Zagat.

  • April 30, 2015
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Life
  • View all 11 Comments
Why...

Do I bother with restaurant reviews when really I can hear how good the food will be long before a morsel drops into my mouth? The introduction seduction. “Hi, my name is Randy, and I will be your food co-ordinator tonight. Our special is a free range rodent nestling on a bed of cumquat jello and coffee pesto...” Randy does not write orders on a pad. To show you his deep intellect he assures you he will remember it all, like it's some extra treat to allow you to witness such a prodigious memory.....which always means someone gets the wrong meal. The aircon will be up way too high, the lowbrow art hanging on the walls is on display because it's for sale. The bathrooms are made from black slate, so when you take a leak it’s like peeing in a mausoleum. As for the food, you know damn well that the portions will be microscopic but the price positively gargantuan. And despite giving you liver instead of lamb chops Randy will expect a round of applause as well as a big tip.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Excuse me, I think you’ll find this is my nuclear shelter

  • April 23, 2015
  • Life Politics
  • View all 4 Comments
Why...

Of all the businesses thrown up by our world’s increasing fear of impending Armageddon is my favourite for sheer absurdity …ordering your own private nuclear shelter? A snip at around $1million. In Mel Brooke’s wonderful film and musical ‘The Producers’, impresario Max Bialystock keeps selling many multiples of the maximum 100% investment in his new play to unwary investors. “Congratulations you own 75% of Springtime for Hitler…Congratulations you own 60% of Springtime for Hitler…Congratulations you have made a very wise purchase and now own 90% of Springtime for Hitler…” hoping his play would be a flop so he would never have to repay the investors and keep all the oversubscribed funds himself. Whoever investigates loss of profits on a flop? I can hear Max’s pitch. “Congratulations. Here at Fall out Haven, your own super secure home awaits you should the worst happen. Don’t be left behind, become one of the ultimate in-crowd, as you sure as hell don’t want to be out there. With your own personal supply of tinned food and a mountain of Twinkies (the snack cake’s alleged shelf life being infinite) you can wait out eternity in comfort. Due to the unprecedented demand, payments need to be made in full. Make sure of your future with an investment in the present.” These shelters are apparently selling like hot cakes across the Bible belt in the USA. So let me get this straight. Nuclear bombs start dropping like hailstones and the proud owner and family manages to get to the refuge only to find a string of others all with the same key to the only completed bunker. Just exactly what are you going to do? Sue someone? I would imagine the legal system of lawyers and courts might be temporarily out of service, as well as any banking system to pay restitution, let alone the police to make any arrests. If I was a Max Bialystock type of developer I’d have long ago escaped to my own private island far away from the nuclear winter, or decided it is better to be burned to a crisp like the rest of us, having at least enjoyed a bunch of money until the fateful day. In any case I would rather stick needles in my balls than spend years locked in a tomb with a bunch of other self-absorbed short sighted fools who no doubt would be arguing about how this never would have happened if the right President had been voted in and Jesus had done less turning the other cheek and more smiting the enemy.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Do EuroMillions or the National Lottery owe you more??

  • February 27, 2015
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Life
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

For many £2 for a lottery ticket is just cheap therapy. That jackpot dream allows you to fall asleep at night with the daily problems pushed to one side as you carefully plan out what to do with your imminent win. If you play on line, you might receive this email. “We’ve got some news about the ticket from the draw on Tuesday 17th February. Please sign into your account as soon as you can for more information. For a brief moment this can revive the night time fantasies until you log into your account and reality bites: “Congratulations! You’ve won £2.60 on EuroMillions ticket number xxxxxxxxx on Tuesday February 17th.” But did you win £2.60? Not by my maths….not by a long way.   If the stake to play a game on the EuroMillions or National Lottery is £2 surely it should be deducted from your win? It’s the return of your stake. What you win is on top. Therefore if your stake is £2 you surely don’t ‘win’ £2.60, you actually win £0.60 and get your £2 back? That seems to me to be overvaluing success by around 250%. Anyone out there from Camelot or National Lottery Commission to put me right?

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Life is being blighted by blockers & noisy food

  • February 21, 2015
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Life Travel/Nature
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Whenever the lights go up at the theatre or cinema, why are the people at the ends of my row the last people to file out? I smoulder waiting whilst they gawk at the programme, endlessly check under their seat or simply stand there trying to find their fellow travellers on the bus from Hove who are in other seats sprinkled around the auditorium? They are the same people who seem surprised to get a bill at the check- out and then search for their purse for five minutes, or the 'change monkeys' at coffee shops who insist not only in paying in cash but counting out loose change to the last penny. The driver who texts his mates when the lights go green, the waddler who parks his supermarket trolley sideways in narrow aisles then wanders away, or the escalator riders who stop dead after stepping off so everyone behind piles into them? They are life’s Blockers. They need to identify themselves so we in turn can avoid them. I have an idea of the sign for identification; it starts with W and ends with…….

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

What is rss? "rss" is about getting live web feeds
directly to your computer.