Stuff / Soul

I’ve spent the evening going through the accumulated geological layers of crap in my basement, sorting it into stuff that I need, and stuff I can give or throw away. I am doing this because I am going to leave this area, and move on. I’ll be taking a smaller flat, much cheaper, and right beside a massive forest. In fact, the view from my new balcony will be – forest. No SUVs, no interchangeable blonde couples jogging around, no tossers parking on the bike lane. Just fucking forest.

This neighbourhood has been fine, for the three years I’ve been here. It’s by the water, and modern in a good way, and close to town and forest, plus the people I know in my building are lovely. Except for one thing. It’s too bloody rich. Upper-middle class rich. Soulless people wandering the clean streets like confused zombies with too much cash and no idea what to do with their pampered, self-obsessed lives.

The people living here have too much money, and they just spend it all on shit. Total and utter shit. Like fancier cars. Or new furniture. Or uglier bigger televisions. Or new fucking kitchens.

What’s the deal with kitchens anyway? Why, suddenly, does every moneyed moron have a burning desire to change their kitchen? What the fuck’s wrong with the old one? Is it broken? Does the toaster smell funny? Or is the wall the wrong fucking shade of egg-shell white?

I know the answer. They’ve seen it in some interior design magazine and decided it’s “for them”, the fucking mindless sheep.

Anyway, back to the present rant. The fact that my neighbours have too much money can easily be seen in the “recycling room”. This is where they offload their excess consumables, things that won’t fit in their cavernous basements. And, my God, you should see the stuff they throw away.

Sacks full of designer clothes. Brand new shoes. Electronics. Mobile telephones. Furniture. A few months back, I saw a stodgy pair offload about twenty banana boxes full of nice crystal, and old books, and toys from the 1950s. You could tell it was the contents of an older relative’s house. Their whole life, basically, dumped in a rubbish pile by two unimaginative twits with more money than life-force.

There are charity shops that take this stuff. Lots of them. But my brain-dead neighbours clearly can’t be arsed. Fuck the poor, let them get their own ugly designer shoes and fucking denim shorts.

Today I found a big “fat” television. I actually need a television for my Eurovision party next week, so I took it. It works perfectly. Of course. When I’m done, I’ll put it back. Look, here it is:

See too the other photos I’ve stuck to this article. All taken tonight. And this is just an average Sunday.

It’s very clear that people in this country have too much money, and don’t realise it. They have summer houses, boats, cars, foreign holidays, and still whinge that their taxes are too high. And that they don’t have enough time.

Well FUCK you all. You want more time, work less. Learn to get by on less stuff, and find joy in simple things, and you’ll be a lot fucking happier.

They won’t be happy though, will they? They’ll just be boring and have brightly coloured, fancy, loud and ultimately empty lives.

And if you ask me they’ve made their choice and they fucking deserve it.

/ paddy

Words of Fuzzy Wisdom

I purchased a certain product last week and upon this product I found a text.

The text was warm and sweet and diffuse and said nothing whatsoever about the actual product. Classic copy. It also confused the hell out of me. And here, for your delight, it is.

The one who dares to dream, dares to live. Dreams keep us going, dreams have the power to change the world. So go ahead and jump into the river of dreams, dive deep away from the greyness of everyday and free yourself. Remember: you’re innocent when you dream.

Still there? Good. Give your head a shake and read the thing again, if you want. It won’t help.

I won’t go on about the morons who sit around and brainstorm stuff like this for a living. I could, but I won’t.

And I won’t spit fire about said morons stealing a song title from Tom Waits to boost their fucking incomes.

I will just leave it up to you, my dear readers (yes you there, get out from behind that hedge, I see you) to guess on which product I found this text. And WITHOUT googling it, I may add. Or iPhoning it or whatever it is you kids do these days on your fancy compamuters.

So off you go then. There’s no hurry. I’ll be here, quietly fuming.

/ paddy

—————————————————————

Okay then, it’s time to reveal that the product is….

Toilet paper. Nice one Jack!

Here is the website, which make it all perfectly clear…
http://www.lambi.com/unlimiteddreams/

It’s nice to see that toilet paper has nothing to do with arses any more.

—————————————————————

Much Ado About Meat Glue

The Swedish food industry recently won permission to use a new kind of “meat glue”, an enzyme called thrombin that, to put it simply, will allow you to stick scrap pieces of animal flesh together to “build” a larger and more expensive-looking chunk of meat.

The concept of meat glue is hardly a new one: another enzyme, transglutaminase, has been used for years to stick together imitation crabmeat, fish balls, Chicken McNuggets, sausages and hot-dogs, meatballs and even to thicken that healthy low-fat milk and yoghurt (and yes I am basically quoting the Wikipedia article here).

And very probably your Saturday night post-pub kebab too.

So now another glue has come on the market and we have more options for making clumps of cheap protein. And strangely consumers and consumer organisations are now flipping out, even though they have been happily consuming meat glues for years.

Um, why, dare I ask? Don’t those aforementioned groups all go on about getting meat for less? And if you demand low meat prices, and low prices in general, isn’t this sort of thing bound to happen eventually?

It’s amazing too how everybody gets so upset when some factory farm is discovered where animals are being misstreated. As if people didn’t realise this was happening, as if it’s some sort of news to them.

It’s a simple equation folks – if something is extremely cheap for you, then somebody or something else is paying for it in some nasty way, be it clothes, coffee, chemicals or food.

And why is this new meat glue worse than eating any of the processed meat we eat today? I’ll tell you why – because it’s being highlighted by the media this week and people are trained to get excited and upset by what the press tells them to get excited and upset about.

In a month this “scare” will have joined the glass in chicken scandal, the acrylamide in crisps scandal, the trans fats scandal and all the other “scares” that the public has forgotten about because the media has stopped going on about them.

If you want good quality meat, then read the fucking label, or find a supplier that you trust, or hunt it yourself. And stop going on about being “deceived” when you demand cheap meat and then get just that – cheap meat.

And one more thing: the Swedish word for “meat glue” is “köttklister”, pronounced “shutt-klis-ter”, and I think it’s just such a fat and delicious word and I had to mention it.

And, oh yeah – new layout! Well it’s been like 3 years, so I figure why not. Just bear with me while I poke around and get it all the way I like it. Getting the damn column to be wider, for one thing. And if you have any suggestions, or hate something immensely, please let me know.

/ paddy