Apocalypse When?

Am I just being paranoid ... or is everybody (except me) under the impression that the world is on the brink of an apocalypse? I mean, I know things aren't great at the moment ... but really? An apocalypse?

In the last three days I have had FOUR conversations of various lengths and degrees with regards to this matter, none of which were instigated by me, three of whom involved the term "Mad Max State" !!! What the heck is going on? Did I miss something? Was there a memo of some sort that didn't reach my "In" tray?

The first conversation was brief and amusing; the second was still humorous but had a bit of an edge to it; by conversation number three i was pulling this face --> :S ... but it was conversation number four that pretty much had me freaking out all day long, consisting as it did of a male friend laying out with gusto and in full, graphic detail the horror waiting to be unleashed on my cosy little world and then helpfully (or so he considered it) giving me useful "tips and hints for post-apocalyptic survival", such as:

1) Start stocking up on tinned goods and medical supplies (but make sure to check the expiry dates!)

2) Invest in a shit-load (his words, not mine) of noodles ('Yum Yum' being the best on the market apparently, noodle fans)

3) Have your appendix and teeth removed and then get fitted with dentures (because the last thing you'll need when facing a rampaging horde of environmental/economic refugees is a toothache or niggly appendicitis)

4) Get a gun licence and then start stocking up on handy weapons and ammo and taking target practice

5) Start procreating NOW so that your children will be old enough by time the apocalypse hits to be assets (providing you suitably trained them in the art of warfare) rather than have them be a hindrance to your own chances of survival

6) Move somewhere high and cold ... maybe a forest in deepest Norway, or alternatively Greenland.

7) Buy a log cabin in a remote area, preferably with its own well and close to a forest (*as above) and a lake/fjord to facilitate hunting/fishing

8) Build a large greenhouse, grow your own vegetables and construct a solar-powered energy system ("so you can stay online")

:|

By this time I was sobbing in a corner(metaphorically speaking ... all the real corners being occupied), rocking in a distressed manner, moaning "Oh God! I'm gonna die! I'M GONNA DIE!" ... at which point my gallant friend told me not to worry, that if push came to shove he'd whisk me off to said log cabin in Norway and protect me, not to mention training our numerous offspring to be highly skilled snipers.

Oh! My hero!

But it's no wonder my friends (*Note to self: 'Revise' friends list as matter of priority) have been gripped by this prospect of terror and destruction; in true scare-mongering style the media have latched on to the hope of the ultimate 'drama' and are busy flooding the papers and internet with lurid, worse-case-scenario predictions that has everybody peeing their pants and buying up baked beans by the truck load.

I don't dispute that things are looking grim; nobody can deny global warming now or its effect on the weather systems, and having witnessed America and Asia being systematically ravaged by one natural disaster after another it's totally understandable that this should be a major concern for the future. And I work in the financial sector so I know exactly how precarious the whole world economy is right now; with the US congress having just rejected the Governments generous (to be funded by the even more generous US tax-payers) $700 billion bail-out plan, the world stands waiting with nervously baited breath, knowing that one big 'wobble' could send the US crashing into another depression that in turn will set all the other economies tumbling one by one, like dominoes. Inflation will soar as the value of the US dollar plummets, leaving America in a state of affairs that frankly is hard to comprehend.

The important question is how will people deal with that eventuality?

I read yesterday that HBO are in the process of developing a futuristic new drama titled "Americatown", depicting the US as so bankrupt and natural disaster-prone that the Americans flee the country. Set 25 to 40 years in the future, it explores the scenario of how American immigrants would adapt to Chinatown-like enclaves in cities around the world.

But is that really what would happen? Americans, for the most part, are notoriously patriotic and proud of their country, it's a big part of their collective identity, of what drives them and gives them their strength ... would they really just walk away? Would American society really deteriorate and crumble that fast into chaos?

Because that's what the media's predicting; they're saying morality and lawfulness will fall by the wayside as people turn into rapacious, desperate looters and mercenaries, roaming not only their own land but others' as well, observing no law but their own, destructing anything and anyone unlucky enough to get in their way. Are people capable of that in this (supposedly sophisticated) day and age? Or has the media just watched Mad Max one too many times?

I really hope that it's just another case of media sensationalism at it's worst, because in all seriousness the reality of any of that happening would be simply terrifying.

As a woman, on her own, who (let's face it) struggles to cope with THIS easy, and in comparison, comfy life ... I just wouldn't stand a chance of survival. I'm not a Sarah Connor or Lara Croft type, I'm not going to be able to pull off the whole "shotgun and a vest" look with any credibility. I'd be about as threatening as a bunny with a flick-knife.

But all joking aside ... should I BE thinking about this situation possibly occurring? Planning for it? Should I be worried? (Should I be researching Norwegian log cabins?) Because having thought about it all day, and it's been a very long day, I am seriously anxious and feeling very small and alone. My dream of living 'a la du Maurier' is looking less and less likely. ANY kind of pleasant, peaceful existence is looking less and less likely. And I HATE that! It makes me want to throw the mother of all hissy fits, it's THAT unfair! Is that really all I have to look forward to? What about children? I'd dearly love a family, but what kind of mother would bring children into a world so full of violence and chaos and struggle?

These have been my tormented thoughts all day!

But you know what? I'm NOT going to think about it any more, I'm not going to worry and fret about it anymore (not unless/until I really have to anyway!) Because although I may not have religion I DO have faith. I have faith in people, in human kindness, in empathy and in simple goodness. There's a lot of 'bad eggs' out there, no doubt, but I'm guessing that for every 'bad egg' there's a dozen 'jolly good fellows' and I'm prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt and trust that the majority, even if faced with the most extreme hardship, will pull together, stand firm, and do the right thing.

Tragedy and struggle can sometimes unite people by giving them a common bond, a shared cause or battle; personally THAT'S what I think will happen.

I think we're heading into some very dark times; it's not going to be easy, some may get lost along the way, but people have the coolest way of finding each other when they need it most, even in the dark, and with guidance it's easier to find your way out into the light.

See you on the other side.

Paul Newman (1925 - 2008)

I'm not one for sentimentality over such things as the death of an actor, but I feel somewhat compelled to comment on the passing of Paul Newman, who died on Friday at the age of 83.

When my mum left my dad we went to live with my maternal grandparents and stayed there for about five years. I've never been great at sleeping and I would resist bedtime with every bone in my small body when I was a child; my family's answer to this was to strike a bargain with me, I was allowed to stay up late at the weekends, as late as I wanted, providing I was a good girl during the week and went to bed without any tantrums. Yes I was a spoilt brat, but I knew when I had it good and I entered into the agreement with alacrity, because I loved the weekends. I especially loved Friday and Saturday nights because even at that young age I was a budding film buff and on Friday nights the BBC showed old black and white horror films and on Saturday nights they ran old classics.

One of the highlights of my week (and I had many, mine was a very happy, contented childhood) was to have my bath on a Friday or Saturday night, get into my PJ's and then go downstairs to the living room where my grandparents sat up late. While my grandfather snored in his chair I would cuddle up to my grandmother, also dressed in her night clothes and faintly smelling of freesia scented talcum powder and settle down to watch whatever the BBC had to offer us. Every weekend we would have our quality time together, sharing a love of old films and a bag of marshmallows or a bar of dark chocolate. While we watched my grandmother would tell me about the actors, little bits of information and gossip she'd gathered and treasured over the years, waiting for the appreciative audience that she would one day find in her little granddaughter. I loved it, it was bliss, life just didn't get any better than Friday and Saturday nights as far as I was concerned.

One of the first films that I remember watching with my grandmother was Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

I think I can only have been 6 or 7 but I remember it vividly, it simply blew me away. It was one of the first films I bought for myself when I started earning my own money and I still love it and watch it regularly. I've come to appreciate it more over the years; as a child I didn't understand the adult themes of mendacity and sexual tension, all I understood and loved was the glamour of it. I was held spellbound, not by the cleverly crafted script or plot line (I'd come to love those much later), but by the smouldering, elegant beauty of Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman's sheer brooding maleness. I had never seen a man as physically perfect, even to my young, innocent eyes as he was. Thinking about it, I still haven't. When Elizabeth Taylor gazes at him with hungry, longing I'm right there with her, because for all his weaknesses and fallibility (and possible latent homosexuality - toned down in the film, much to the disgust of Tennessee Williams apparently) he is still the perfect man. That film, and Paul Newman's image in it, made a huge impression on me that has stayed with me through the years, and for that reason I have a fondness by association for Elizabeth Taylor and, to a much greater extent, Paul Newman.

Greater, simply because I have never since watched a film with Paul Newman in that I didn't think him awesome in. He has remained consistently good and compelling to watch, frankly he should be forever revered as an actor just for his portrayal in Cool Hand Luke alone, never mind his other classics such as The Hustler, Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid, Hud and The Sting.

He was a fine actor, no doubt about it, but there was so much more to him.

As great as his dramatic achievements were, what he SHOULD be acknowledged and accredited for is his philanthropy. This man had a heart. A lot of people know that he had his own brand of food products ... but how many of them know that ALL proceeds after taxes were donated to charity, resulting in literally hundreds of millions of dollars being raised? He had a hands-on approach to getting involved with his various causes that has rarely been seen in others, who it could be cynically suggested only see charity functions as another photo-opportunity. When asked about his generosity he is quoted as saying 'I wanted to acknowledge luck; the chance and benevolence of it in my life, and the brutality of it in the lives of others, who might not be allowed the good fortune of a lifetime to correct it.'

Paul Newman seemed to conduct his life and his business with a quiet dignity that did him great credit and endeared him to the general public. Those icy blue eyes held a wealth of warmth and his goodness shone through. Women wanted to love him, men wanted to to be him (and probably go for a pint with him), he was that kind of guy, universally loved for being a beautiful person, inside and out.

Rest in peace, Mr Newman.

So Romantic!

Don't know if you've noticed, but I like Blog Gadgets.

I think I might even be slightly addicted to them because I start to get decidedly edgy and irritable until I've had a chance to find out what the Motivational Quote is for the day, which ye-olde type insult Shakespeare has for me to throw at my enemies (what exactly IS a pignut btw?) or even what my excuse ... ahem, sorry ... reason is for drinking that day. But I think my favourite (at the moment anyway) is the Date Tips gadget.

These tips intrigue me. Their author intrigues me. Who writes them? Has he (yes of course I'm assuming it's a male, no woman would classify going to a cave as a 'Hot Date') ever dated? I'm thinking NO.

His romantic gems have included:

Said trip to cave (do I really need to say more?)

Gathering colourful Autumn leaves and making collages for each other (Great ... if you're six)

Jumping on a trampoline (makes me queasy just thinking about it ... and nothing says "I love you" like vomit?)

Watch planes take off (!!!!)

Work out together (Does he mean sex?)

Going for a romantic walk on a beach (good so far) and singing a romantic love song to your date (nope, lost me now) ... can you imagine anything worse? You've had a lovely evening, nice meal, maybe a club for drinks and a slow dance followed by the moonlight walk along the beach, holding hands, bit of smooching ... and then he breaks into "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion (or more likely "Everything I do" by Bryan Adams) OMG! Talk about a passion killer! If you didn't run screaming in embarrassment you'd probably offend him for life by peeing yourself laughing. It's a no win situation.

So why do I have it on my Blog? Because it's hilarious! It gives me something to snicker at and write sarcastic posts about. End of.

And who knows, someone looking at my Blog might see it and be inspired to Casanovan greatness ... my Blog could be the unwitting tool of thousands of great love stories all over the globe! I like that idea! It's kinda cool!

On the other hand it could be the start of the end for thousands of budding relationships who could've given Romeo and Juliet, Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir and Kermit and Miss Piggy a run for their money had they just stayed away from trampolines and caves. Which reminds me ...

Disclaimer:

The Management would like to point out that they are in no way liable for any unfortunate dating experiences or broken hearts that may result from the consumer being foolish enough to actually take these 'Tips' seriously. Also, that this disclaimer does not cover misuse, accident, lightning, flood, tornado, tsunami, volcanic eruption, earthquake, hurricanes and other Acts of God, neglect, damage from improper reading, incorrect line voltage, improper or unauthorized use, broken antenna or marred cabinet, missing or altered serial numbers, removal of tag, electromagnetic radiation from nuclear blasts, sonic boom, crash, ship sinking or taking on water, motor vehicle crashing, dropping the item, falling rocks, leaky roof, broken glass, mud slides, forest fire, or projectile (which can include, but not be limited to, arrows, bullets, shot, BB’s, paintball, shrapnel, lasers, napalm, torpedoes, or emissions of X-rays, Alpha, Beta and Gamma rays, knives, stones, etc.). Basically, you're on your own kid.

Ps: I would still like to know who writes these tips please ... basically so I can avoid dating him.

David Blaine ... er, WHY?

Oh dear! He's at it again!

Yep, David Blaine is going to have himself suspended, without a safety net, 50 feet above Central Park's Wollman Skating Rink in New York for 3 days.

Aside from not being able to sleep or eat the whole time and the obvious danger of hanging from a great height without a net, his doctor has said that since hanging upside down for a long time greatly increases blood pressure in the head, especially in the eyes, there is a very real risk of blindness.

Now I don't know about you, but when I read this I'm not thinking "Oooo! How daring and brave!" or "Oh my gosh! How exciting!" I'm sitting here thinking ... *shake of the head* why?!?!?

And let's face it, it's a "Why?" on so many levels.

Firstly, WHY does he do it? This is the guy whose previous stunts have included having himself buried alive, frozen in huge blocks of ice for 61 hours, starved for 44 consecutive days whilst imprisoned and suspended in a small Plexiglas box above the River Thames, submerged in a water-filled sphere for seven days and seven nights, and escaping from shackles following a 16 hour 'spin cycle' on a gyroscope. Is it really just a case of the cynical old story of doing it for the money and the fame? In every stunt he has seriously compromised his health and pushed his body to the limit, he claimed after the "Frozen in Time" stunt that it took him nearly a month just to be able to walk again!!! Is money and fame really worth THAT much? Is he just an uber-exhibitionist? His stunts always get a lot of interest from the media and the public (good work Mr Blaine's PR company btw!) but it seems to me that a lot of it is negative too. When he came over here for the "Above the Below" stunt there were daily reports of people taunting him, throwing things at his Plexiglas box, one discerning gentleman was even arrested for trying to cut off his water supply. That's not a popular guy in my book.

It seems to me that by doing what he does he has in effect turned himself into a modern day, one-man freak show. People go to gawp at him in wonder, but how do they really see him? General consensus seems to be that he's mildly entertaining but a total loon.

Which then makes me ask ... is he just plain mad as a box of frogs? And if he IS ... should we really be entertained by him?

I don't know why he does it, only David Blaine really knows the answer to that question. What interests me more and concerns me more is the next question:

WHY are we so fascinated by him and by what he does? We seem to be drawn and repelled in equal measures; like those people who took time out of their busy day just to go and taunt him or spent good money on food just to throw it at him. Even the people who go along to see him and just stand there shaking their heads in disbelief and muttering "Totally outta his gourd" can't deny their fascination.

But what is it that fascinates us? It's not him personally. He's not exactly a dynamic personality or even a hottie (although I'm sure there are plenty of women who would disagree with me on that point), he's just another 'wacky' American magician.

Wait, that makes me think of something else ... magician? Or illusionist? Are they same thing? He refers to himself as a magician but illusion seems closer to the mark since magic to my mind is what Gandalf does ... when David Blaine battles a Balrog I'll call him a magician, not before. And neither magic or illusion come into his 'stunts' which seem to be his main focus nowadays, that's simply endurance. And before DB's fans start jumping up and down in indignant outrage let me say that I'm not knocking what he does, what he does is extreme and very few people could do it and for that he has my grudging respect. Although I will never understand why someone wants to make a public show of physically pushing themselves to the point of harm or even death. Where is the line drawn between straight forward self-harm/suicide and an elaborate, dramatic death in the name of entertainment?

Because ladies and gentlemen, isn't THAT why we're all so fascinated with David Blaine? It's not WHAT he's doing or even HOW he's doing it that makes us watch and keep watching him; magicians/illusionists/escapologists are ten a penny nowadays and our society too de-sensitised and hardened by the glut of extreme stunts (thank you Jackass et al) and special effects in films and television to be amazed or even impressed by what he DOES. The exciting bit, the thing that makes us stare and hold our breaths in wonder is the possibility that he might actually fail. It is the consequence of things going horribly wrong that fascinates and draws us.

We like to fool ourselves with conceited notions of being civilised and humane, but the depressing truth is that David Blaine and his stunts make us revert in seconds back to the days when people flocked to the Colosseum, not to admire the gladiators or their fighting skills, but in the hope and expectation of seeing them mauled by a tiger or cut into ribbons by an opponents sword.

David Blaine is going to suspend himself, upside down, 50 ft above the ground without a net, without food or sleep for 3 days at great personal risk to himself for our amusement and what we're all denying but secretly rooting for is that by some chance the cable will snap or that at the very least he will suffer some terrible medical misfortune such as losing his sight, because THEN we'll get the sensationalism-buzz we're all addicted to and hungry for (the death of Princess Diana and 9/11 having turned us into Nations of drama junkies); we can feel better about ourselves by smugly saying "I told you he was crazy" and thereby justifying the fact we were hoping he would fail in the first place and of course we'll have another anecdote to impress others with "I remember/was there the day David Blaine died horribly".

I wish him luck.

I wish us all luck.

How awful!

I'm just sitting here looking at the news headlines while I finish my lunch.

Apparently Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber has offered free tickets to his shows to the London staff of Lehman Brothers who lost their jobs this week.

Poor bastards! Haven't they suffered enough?

Smart (my arse!)

I think I mentioned in my first post that a friend had suggested keeping a Blog after I'd ranted at length in an e-mail about so-called "Smart" cars. Well, I don't mean to be obsessive or anything but ... OMG!

I've despised these vehicles since I first set eyes on one, however many years ago it was they were spawned, but I've always tried to keep my disdain contained to a sneer and maybe a contemptuous "Pah!" since one of my many motto's is "Live and let live" (which reminds me ... would James Bond be seen dead in one of these things? Would he ####!")

No more though. My contempt has finally boiled and bubbled over into outright disgust and hatred as a result of nearly being squished not once, but THREE poxy times by a "Smart" car driver, the latest attempt on my life having occurred this morning as I was innocently walking to work - and before you ask ... no it wasn't my own fault! I was strictly observing pedestrian etiquette as always, but for some reason "Smart" car drivers see me and lose control, usually while accelerating. Giving the drivers the benefit of the doubt (even though they all look like Social Workers and are clearly mad as a box of frogs) maybe it was the gentle autumn breeze who was to blame, maybe a slight gust was just a little too much in the North, enough to pick up Noddy's car and send it hurtling my way. I don't know, what I DO know is that I REFUSE to be terminated (well OK, slightly maimed) by such an embarrassing piece of design. So no more Mrs. Nice Lady!

The makers have been trying to convince the British public for some time now that THIS is the car you want to be seen in if you want to be perceived as hip and trendy and a caring friend of the environment, (when in fact all you will look is retarded and cramped). Did the designer actually design a full car? Did the manufacturers just think "well that's a bit wank, looks like something you'd get in a cereal box!" and stop half way through making them? Just quickly stuck the rear's on with a bit of superglue?

They're lame. They irritate me. The people who buy and drive them irritate me - for some inexplicable reason they all have this smug look, like they seriously think people are going to see them in their spazzy little cars and think "Woah! That's so smart! Damn I wish I had one!!" NO! I don't want one .. I don't even want to be associated with someone who has one, I don't think you're cool for buying one I think you're an idiot ...and no, I don't care if it is the "sporty-convertible" version ... that's even lamer ... now go buy a proper car!!!

And that's all I have to say about that.

*This rant was brought to you by the letters F and U and the number 6.

Ugg!

There is a definite hint of Autumn in the air.

Signs of it are everywhere; cooler mornings, squirrels in the park starting to greedily eye the ripening conkers as they dash about looking for suitable hiding places to stash them once they start to fall, shops having sales on "Back to School" leftovers, shortening days, inflating power rates.

But the biggest sign of all is the re-emergence of the Ugg Boot Brigade.

These boots have been chucked in the back of numerous wardrobes across the country for two or three months in favour of flimsy little flip-flops that the wearers slap around in, or even worse, those awful, clunky, cheap and nasty looking plastic clogs made in all the colours of the Opal Fruits (I refuse to call them Starburst). But now they're back!

All over the land young girls and women (who really should know better) are donning the universal uniform of opaque tights, short denim skirt and Ugg boots once more. Why is it, when we have more choice than ever in EVERYTHING, these females strive only to achieve one identical look. Like clones, or chav versions of the Stepford Wives they spend hours and hundreds of pounds on obtaining/maintaining the same haircut, the same make-up and the same clothes!

The worst symbol of this ovine mindlessness are Ugg Boots.

No self-respecting fashion victim it seems would be without a pair, and yet they're without doubt one of the worst pieces of fashion design ever created. They're totally impractical, one hint of rain and they're watermarked for life, and I don't know (because I don't have a pair and have never wanted a pair) but they look like they'd smell of mildew and wet dog after a couple of heavy showers. Yick!

But the biggest fault of the Ugg Boot design is the structure itself. They are soft boots, there is little or no support for the foot. The end result of this is that there are thousands of females out there, happily wandering around shopping precincts, confident in the knowledge that they are wearing the trendiest winter footwear but who are apparently oblivious to the fact that they have lazily walked over the instep of the boots which have distorted and rucked up, leaving their feet looking seriously retarded. It's just ghastly!

There is something so aesthetically displeasing about the image of an elegant woman, immaculately coiffed, made-up and clothed, who's obviously taken a lot of care and pride in her appearance but then totally spoiled the whole effect by choosing to finish her ensemble off with a pair of water stained, misshapen boots that say nothing about the wearer except that they have extremely spasticated feet. You wouldn't wear a hat that made you look like you had a misshapen head, would you? So why do it to your feet?

The only conclusion I can draw is that these women don't see the boots themselves, just the fashion and status symbol they represent. "Kate Moss and all my friends wear Ugg Boots, so I must too if I want to be uber-trendy" Problem is, Kate Moss is a professional model, petite, graceful, skilled in the art of walking and probably owns literally dozens of Ugg boots, expensive designer ones, that never get a chance to distort and make her feet look like squashed loaves of bread, and you can bet if she does have pairs like that they're chucked in the bin quicker than Paris Hilton can say "Publicity". As for your friends ... well just look! They have spasticated looking feet too!

I like Ugg Boots, I really do! Or rather I should say I like new, pristine Ugg Boots; but until they design a pair that aren't going to make me look like Quasimodo from the ankle down then I'm simply not interested.

Kate Moss is welcome to them.

I Kissed a Girl ...

"I kissed a girl, just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it"

Yeah right Katie ... he's out there selling tickets to his mates already, love.

Urgh!

Head Colds!

Urgh! Good God!

What are they good for?

Absolutely NOTHING!

Say it again.