Pynchon

Flashback to the early 1990's.

The Company I was working for at the time was holding it's annual Christmas squawk at the Royal Angus Thistle Hotel in Birmingham. I turned up for the do in a taxi, not wanting to risk creasing my suit by travelling on public transport, at exactly the same time as a girl called Debbie.

Debbie worked in the training section and was a striking looking woman. A beautiful, tall, red headed girl. Mid 30's with a bearing about her. Truly fine, classy and elegant, and as sexy as hell.

I said to Debbie, "You look really nice".

And Debbie said to me, "You too, John. You look gorgeous. Good enough to eat."

With that, she took my arm and we walked into the hotel and the party together, and everybody, everybody was watching us.

I am feeling old, tired and unwanted, but I remember when a woman thought I was gorgeous and good enough to eat.

Labels: Thoughts

Hello.

I am not even going to pretend that I can be arsed to write anything much just now. I am suffering from a migraine/hangover/headache. Not exactly sure which. Alcohol rich mince pies, just past their sell by date and cider do not mix. All my own fault. In big letters, I REALLY NEED TO STOP DRINKING AND EATING STUFF THAT MAKES ME FEEL ILL.

That aside it has been a nice enough weekend. I saw two movies ("Lust, Caution" or "Se, Jie" and "Dan In Real Life") that I enjoyed for completely different reasons and will write about shortly. I hung out with Lorraine. I went to see Sister 3, who told me that I am going to be an Uncle again, sometime around my birthday. I have read some more of "The Insider". (I really must write about that soon.) I saw my Brother, who wants me to go with him to see The Pigeon Detectives at the Carling Academy. (Are they good? I know nothing whatsoever about that band.)

Yes. I know that the blog is drifting. I will knuckle down tomorrow.

Labels: Family, Gigs, Illness, Movies, Thoughts

It is New Year's Eve. Happy New Year's Eve, all! Or should that be, Happy New Year?

Whatever.

It is that time again. Yer Pynchon's top 10 films of the year.

It must be said, this year I found it a lot easier to compile a list of my top 10 films. Without checking December 2006's post (I am not going back to look, because looking at old posts depresses me) I seem to remember that last year my first cut totalled 21 films before I whittled it down. This year my first cut was 17 films. Are the films getting worse or am I getting picky? Probably the latter.

Anyway, my list. As always, in no particular order.

1. "The Nines"
2. "Atonement"
3. "Lady Chatterley"
4. "The Bourne Ultimatum"
5. "Molière"
6. "Ne le dis à personne"
7. "Jindabyne"
8. "Das Leben der Anderen"
9. "Venus"
10. "Zwartboek"

Hah! Hark at me. As if anybody gives a toss.

I have a pain behind my eyes.

Lorraine is downstairs watching the Patrick Stewart version of "A Christmas Carol" on DVD. There seems to be something awfully wrong about watching a Christmas movie post Christmas. It feels unlucky and I want nothing to do with it.

From the window in the back room I can see my neighbour, the sexy Keren, letting off fireworks in her back garden. She has a number of friends hanging around, but except for the flashes and small explosions from the fireworks, there is no noise coming from next door at all. I like Keren a lot. She is a nice girl.

I might be getting a promotion at work and it will mean more money. I can barely keep a straight face when they talk to me about 'mentoring' and 'watching the numbers' and 'looking after the new people'. I can barely be bothered. I am crusing and I feel like a complete fraud and shyster, especially when Lorraine is working herself to death.

I have butterflies in my stomach. I do not know why.

The only resolution I am making for 2008 is to try to be happy. One way or another. Oh, yes. One more resolution. I don't want this blog to be just about movies. It was not what I intended it to be, when I started it all those years ago. Somehow I have lost sight of what I wanted. I will find it again.

I hope you all get the 2008 that you need, even if it is not the 2008 that you think you need.

Pynchon signing off for 2007.



Be lucky.

Labels: Movies, Thoughts

It is never a good idea to re-read old posts and realise that the energy, the humour and, basically, the quality of the writing has gone downhill. (As if there is any quality about what I do.) Nothing much about me, anymore. Just stuff about films, films, films and more films. A million people do that better than me.

I don't think I will bother tonight.

Labels: Thoughts, Writing

The last 5 days.

Too much drink. Too much food. Too much TV. Absolutely no inclination to write anything at all, despite the fact that there were things to write about.

(My thoughts on the reasons for my track choices in Shuffleathon 2007. The film "Good Luck Chuck" , that I saw on Sunday. An email to a friend about a couple of CD's that I got from her. Daft Sister 2 buying a secondhand PC for 20 quid - yes, 20 quid! or, if you prefer, 41 US Dollars, 46 Australian Dollars, 40 Canadian Dollars or 277 South African Rand - from a guy she met at her mental health course, which turned out to be a bit of a bargain, especially once we found out that it was faster than my Brother's 900 quid computer, had all sorts of free software on it, and got it hooked up to my Brother's wireless Broadband.)

Over the past few days I have been lethargic, pissed off and fed up. Silences with Lorraine, interspersed with arguments, a quite good day on Saturday and a dispiriting wank on Sunday evening ,with Lorraine begrudgingly assisting.

Depressed? Yes, maybe depressed. Perhaps something to do with the dark mornings and the dark evenings and the weather?

No. I don't believe that. I don't deny that other people might feel the weight of Winter pressing in, but I don't think I am one of them. I like Autumn and Winter.

Maybe I just couldn't be arsed. Maybe I still can't.

I'm sorry if people are worried.

Labels: Boredom, Thoughts

Earlier today (actually yesterday, as it is now the early hours of Sunday morning) Lorraine asked to see The Finger. After studying it she said

"You've got to start looking after yourself better."

"As if you care", said yer Pynch dismissively, and then she looked me straight in the face with a real expression of hurt.

Maybe she does care?

Labels: Thoughts

Re. my absence. I had to get away.

The only way I can describe it, and this is particularly poor, is that after a really great time at LB and Hen's wedding reception, something went very wrong in my head. Way before that weekend I had started to dislike this John Pynchon character a great deal. He became everything gob shite about me. Crass and drunk and vile and intolerant. I didn't want to be him anymore. I wanted to be someone else and to do something else. There was a point during the week when I became absolutely depressed, fed up and sick of writing about myself. It was all I was doing and it was all the same old shit. Lorraine, films, no sex, music, TV, indifference, writers block, severe insomnia, shit, shit, shit, shit.

So, I stopped. I did other things and I went back to sleeping at night again. Now I'm back and I feel a lot better. Madly enough I missed blogging, but I have also found other things to do and the balance is better. Maybe this will mean that the volume of posts will go down, but hopefully the quality of the posts will go up. I am not the most interesting person in the world and I certainly am not the best writer in the world, but feel free to disagree, if you see fit.

I had an email from a friend in a far off place. That helped a lot. You know who you are.

Anyway, I had to return. The 2007 Shuffleathon is in full swing. (It is going to be an annual event, isn't it Swiss?) I have a disc cut and ready to go this weekend. I have not tailored it in any way, shape or form, for the person it is going to. (Just as well, because I don't know them anyway and, for various reasons, I cannot read their blog.) Hopefully they will love it.

Of course they will love it, it is a masterpiece. You know it.

The Greatest Compilation Album In The World, Volume 3

And do you know what? It would be equally wonderful if they just hated it.

Last weekend I saw two films: "Across The Universe" and "Shoot 'Em Up". I will write about "Across The Universe" today.



Here in the UK, "Across The Universe" has had somewhat of a rough ride from some critics. (Hi there esteemed film reviewers of the "Independent" and "Metro" newspapers!) Basically they felt that "Across The Universe" was just awful; shoehorning the Beatles music into an ill-thought through piece of musical cinema, using those songs in wholly inappropriate and crass ways.

I cannot say that I understand their opinion completely. Maybe you just have to be a Beatles fan to appreciate the film, but I thought that "Across The Universe" was absolutely wonderful.

OK... Maybe not absolutely wonderful. Outside of the many great musical set pieces (there are 31 songs on the soundtrack) the film suffers from a somewhat lethargic pacing and a fairly witless and predictable story. Guff about the innocence of the early Sixties being eroded by Vietnam, civil rights, the expanding drug culture, sexual and political revolution is used as a background to a simplistic story of Boy meets Girl, Boy and Girl fall in love, Boy loses Girl, Boy gets Girl back and, hey, guess what? The message here is that "All You Need Is Love".

You got all that? Good. Forget all of it, because what makes "Across The Universe" a really good film, and where it really works, is in the stunning visuals (Julie Taymor also made "Titus", which anybody will tell you is an astonishing looking film) and the brilliant versions of those songs, some of which are over 40 years old.

Highlights?

T. V. Carpio's version of "I Want To Hold Your Hand", reinvented as a lesbian torch song. Evan Rachel Wood's exuberant "It Won't Be Long" (I sadly have to report that I had completely forgotten that brilliant opener to "With The Beatles"), as a great, lost, call and response, Sixties girl group number. Bono's truly bonkers version of "I Am The Walrus". Joe Cocker's muscular take on "Come Together". Joe Anderson's "Happiness Is A Warm Gun" (with Salma Hayek popping up a a nurse, oh, yes!) Practically everything sang by Jim Sturgess ("Strawberry Fields Forever", "Across The Universe", "Girl") and Dana Fuchs ("Helter Skelter", "Oh Darling", "Don't Let Me Down").

Er... Basically the highlights were all of the musical sections of the film. True, Eddie Izzard doing "Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite" was kind of terrible, but I think it was supposed to be terrible.

Even if you are not a Beatles fan, and there are some of those curious creatures about (Hi there, Mr. Planet! Hi there, Graham!), there is a lot to enjoy in "Across The Universe". But be warned. You are almost certainly going to miss out on some of the fun Beatles references, he says smugly. (A girl climbing in through a bathroom window, anyone? The climatic rooftop gig being interrupted by the police, bringing to mind the last time the Beatles played live, on the roof of Apple headquarters on 30th January 1969.)

I think that "Across The Universe" is worth seeing, but I would say that, being Beatles fan A number 1.

Remember... "All You Need Is Love".

"Shoot 'Em Up" later in the week. "Heroes" is on tomorrow.

Labels: Illness, Movies, Thoughts

Write, write, write. Just to fill the silence.

I have a joke.

Three dead bodies turn up at the mortuary. All of the bodies have very big smiles on their faces.

The Coroner calls the police to tell them his results after the examination.

First body: "Frenchman, 60, died of heart failure whilst making love to his mistress hence the enormous smile, Inspector", says the Coroner.

Second body: "Scotsman, 25, won a thousand pounds on the lottery, spent it all on whisky. Died of alcohol poisoning, hence the smile."

The Inspector asked, "But, what of the third body?"

"Ah", says the coroner. "This is the most unusual one. Paddy from Belfast, 30, struck by lightning."

"Why is he smiling then?", inquires the Inspector.

"He thought he was having his picture taken."

********

I felt a little dizzy on the bus on the way home from work, but other than that, today I was absolutely fine.

Labels: Humour, Thoughts

Sometimes I do things that I know will hurt me. But still I go ahead and do them.

No, it's nothing as crass as cutting my arms or any other such act of self body mutilation, so that I can feel something. I have no problem with feeling. If anything I feel too much. (Bit of a Sylvia Plath moment there, eh, John? Or maybe I should call you Morrissey, circa 1985.). It is all to do with what I put into myself. Too much food. Too much drink.

Ah... Drink.

On Friday evening, during a very pleasant visit to Lorraine's ex boss Bobby Blue and his lovely missus Lana-with-the-turquoise-eyes to coo over their new baby, I was asked by Bobby if I would like a drink. Lana piped up with the choices. Coca-cola, water, orange juice, tea, coffee, wine or a beer.

Sir... That would be a beer then.

I was handed a Groschl. I do not get on well with Groschl. I'm not sure what the alcohol content is, but every time I have a Groschl I suffer from a bad head the next day. A really bad head. I have avoided Groschl since I discovered that little fact.

Groschl was the only beer on offer.

Now, honestly, I wasn't really thinking about alcohol. I wouldn't have minded having a cup of tea. I like tea. But it seems that whenever alcohol is put in front of me in a social situation, I have to have it. I think, I think that if I don't have any, I am missing out.

I did have a Groschl. I had more than one. I was a happy camper. I was on form. Lorraine and I had a great time, although she didn't drink any alcohol at all.

We looked at the baby. The baby looked back at us, but otherwise he didn't do a lot else. We swapped gossip. Bobby was funny. Lana was beautiful, if a bit podgy (says He of the not-quite-Brad-Pitt-like-figure), but that's what a baby does to you and, anyway, I have never been one to think that a lady carrying a few extra pounds is mutually exclusive to her being beautiful. Bobby, who didn't touch a drop of alcohol, was good enough to drop us home. It was a good night and it did Lorraine the world of good.

(Lorraine has said to me recently that she feels isolated. Some of it is my fault and I know it. You see, I really couldn't give a toss about keeping in touch with people, or spending time with people (other than via this weird Internet thing) but Lorraine does. When she lived in Bristol and Haywards Heath, she had a wide circle of friends. All gone now. I do not organise social events. Never have done. Maybe long ago, when I was a little boy, I tried to organise something and nobody turned up. Maybe I was scarred for life by the experience. I don't know.

I do not keep in touch with people from work. I have no idea what any of my schoolmates are doing. I was on Friends Reunited for a while, but deleted all of entries about myself when I started getting emails from people I hadn't seen in years. Why were these people bothering me? Maybe they should fuck off and leave me alone.

I do accept invitations, sometimes, but I always fret about accepting them. Often Lorraine has to talk me into going somewhere. I am going to a do in a couple of weeks, which I am sure is going to be great, but I had to be talked into going by Lorraine. I nearly made excuses.

Maybe I am just a miserable bastard. Or a recluse. I don't know. Are there any psychiatrists out there who would like to analyse me? Ah... Go fuck yourselves. I'm not going to let you.

I have told Lorraine that she should keep in touch with people. That she should bring people around the house, if she wants, but quite rightly she knows that I would be pleasant and accommodating until the moment I went to hide in my room or the back room. When we go to Nottingham, we are going early so that she can spend some time with her millionaire buddy Dolores Rat, vile creature that she is. I will hold my tongue and I will be nice, for at least a couple of hours.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was ill the next day (yesterday). Major hangover. Nearly all day. Wrecked any plans that I might have had to see two films this weekend. If I knew the Latin for the phrase "I told you so", I would write it just ... about ... here. But I don't, so I won't.

It has been a better day today. I went to see "Atonement", which I thought was terrific, but I will write about that tomorrow as I need to take the roast out of the oven. It's lamb. I can smell it.

Yum.

Labels: Drinking, Lorraine, Socialising, Thoughts

There is a certain amount of slippage in my life at the moment. There is a constant failure to meet the deadlines that I set for myself. I am getting into the regular habit of breaking promises. Time is out of whack.

It is Wednesday. How is it Wednesday? Where has the time gone? If it wasn't so stupid I would say that my personal elapsed time has gone out of sync with actual elapsed time. The memories of London and the weekend are already fading, which kind of contradicts the above, but hey, don't come here for logical thought.

I had planned to do a stack of writing tonight, but things have got in the way. (Lorraine claims not to be well, which is an early warning sign that we will probably not be going out to eat tomorrow evening. I was not gracious about it and the... ahem... discussion went on for a little while. Then, after Lorraine had stropped off the bed, I watched "Heroes".)

I am very tired. Some of it must have been the alcohol I had last night with Graham after the film. (By the way, Graham, a good night, I thought.) I suffered this morning because of it. It's kind of farcical. I only had two bottles of Corona and a bottle of water; plus, when I got home, I had a banana and a pint of water, which normally kills any hangover dead, but not this time. I have noticed recently that my alcohol tolerance is disappearing. All for the good, I suppose.

All is fine. All is well. I just need to rest. I really will be back tomorrow.

Labels: Thoughts, Time

Labels: Thoughts

Graham said an interesting thing last night. Actually, Graham says a lot of interesting things, but this particularly struck home.

We were talking about blogging, material and what happens when a blogger runs out of material. Every day cannot be interesting. Sometimes the days are boring and repetitive and nothing happens. Graham said that by now he is acutely aware somebody is reading his blog, and feels an obligation to put something on it every day, whether there is something to say or not. He often does this by putting up a memememe. Easy, peasy. A list of questions. You answer them. You elaborate. Soon you have a post.

To me that sounds awfully familiar. I often put up jokes or music clips from You Tube to fill the space. I suppose that like Graham I don't want to disappoint my fans with nothing.

(Fans? The arrogance... Fans? Ha, ha, ha! You are an utter wanker, John.)

Sure am. It is one of my good points.

Perhaps it was easier to post when nobody was reading? We can all write the most controversial, personal, intensely raw stuff when we are unknown, but can you really do that when you might meet somebody in the flesh who has read that stuff and knows you?

Bollocks. I will try to write like nobody is reading. I think it is the more interesting way. (Ain't I just the maverick? Call me Steve McQueen. In fact, if I ever have to disappear again, my handle might be McQueen.)

On this occasion there is material, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I am incredibly tired. Jaw droppingly tired. A lot of reasons for this, but partly down to a good night out, last night, with Graham watching the mighty INXS at the Symphony Hall (and thanks for perservering in getting in touch with me, mate) and a long time in getting to sleep when I finally got home. I also saw "Ne Le Dis à Personne" at the weekend, which deserves a bit of a clear headed write up. I also want to add links to this and the last post.

Yours, yawningly, back tomorrow.

Labels: Bloggers, Thoughts

I normally blog pretty much in silence. Music playing in the background distracts me, but I am listening to some music now (and yes, it is distracting).

It's the album, "The Gift" by the Jam. (Yes, it is one of my Brother's Birthday present's, but I figured I would take the opportunity to replace the copy of "The Gift" on my MP3 player with this, the remastered version.)

I can't have listened to "The Gift" in over 10 years. It's (mostly) a great collection of songs, but I'm finding listening to it a sad experience. I think what's done it are these lines from the song "Ghosts".

"One day you'll walk right out of this life
And then you'll wonder why you didn't try."

How incredibly true, except that I doubt I will ever walk right out of this life. Because I am too much of a coward.

Another "The Gift" related memory just came to me.

In 1982, when I was at Bournville College in Birmingham, there was a girl I fancied so much that it hurt. She knew it as well, but she was nice. We were friends, but she didn't want anything else.

She knew that I loved the Jam, but she knew nothing about them. She asked me to sing her a great song of theirs, so I did the whole of "The Planner's Dream Goes Wrong", in the car park, before the class started. She said she was impressed.

Rubbish. I was great when I was 19, but I have never been able to sing.

When the course had finished, we corresponded for a while, but I never used to keep in touch with people for very long. She was going to train to be a nurse, specialising in the care of mentally handicapped children. I have no idea where she is now, or what became of her.

It was great to be 19.

Labels: Music, Thoughts

Recently Lorraine asked me to change my lunch hour so that it starts from 12pm instead of 1pm. Although now the afternoon sometimes seems endless, an earlier lunch does have an advantage in that I am now having it with a completely different set of people. A change is as good as a rest, and all that. One of the people I now have lunch with is a girl called Mallory.

Ah... Mallory. Lovely girl. Early 20's. Quite petite, slim and pretty. Long brown hair, brown eyes, little square glasses. Kind of innocent, open and enthusiastic. Endlessley likeable. Of course she is as dumb as a bag of spanners, but hey, I suppose beauty comes with it's own cost.

So, today Mal and I were talking, and the conversation went something like this.

Mal: You see a lot of films, don't you John?

Yer Pynch: Yes. I suppose I do.

Mal: I saw a really great film at the weekend.

Pynch: What was that, then?

Mal: It was called "Flight 93".

(Quick digression here, just to explain.

"Flight 93" and "United 93" are completely separate films based upon on the events that occurred on and around United Airlines Flight 93, on the day of the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, September 11th 2001. Mal was referring to "Flight 93", which was the Emmy nominated TV movie, and not "United 93", which was the Oscar nominated major studio movie.

Weirdly enough, Lorraine has seen "Flight 93", and thought it was a good film, but she has never seen "United 93". I have seen "United 93", and thought it was a very powerful piece of work, but have never seen "Flight 93". No doubt we will synchronise at some point.

End of digression.)

Pynch: Did you like it? ("Flight 93").

Mal: Yeah! It was great. Have you seen it?

Pynch: No.

Mal: It was great. These terrorists take over a plane and the passengers fight back. Bit of a sad ending though.

Pynch: Oh, yeah.

Mal: Yeah. The terrorists crash the plane and everyone is killed. It was sad.

Pynch: You know it was the fourth plane, don't you?

Mal: What do you mean?

Pynch: It was the fourth plane. On 9/11.

Mal: How do you mean?

Pynch: 9/11. The attack on the World Trade Centre? The Pentagon? There was a fourth plane and they think that it was probably going to target the White House. Those people on that plane, they were heroes. They brought the plane down.

Mal: I don't understand.

Pynch: 9/11? 2001? Terrorist attack? 9/11?

Mal: 9/11? I think I've heard about it. What was that about, then?

Oh...

Dan Theman was sitting with us and he raised an eyebrow at me. A master of understatement, that's Dan.

So, instead of giving Mal a slap, I went through a quick summary of the events of September 11th, 2001 (lest we forget, the most crucial world shaping day of the past 10 years), as I remembered them. That over, Mal told me how she was really looking forward to the new series of "Big Brother" and asked me if I would be watching it?

Probably not.

True story.

Maybe it's me. I do not write about current affairs very often, but I do watch the news and I do read the newspapers. I care. I am concerned about what is happening in the world. I sometimes worry about where we are all going. If I didn't do that, maybe I would be happier.

Mal is a very happy girl.

I used to joke in the 1980's, during the whole era of Reagan-Thatcher paranoia, cold war, arms race, nuclear buildup nonsense, that upon hearing of a nuclear attack on the UK, my Mom's reaction would be to get the washing in. You see, current affairs did not impact on her at all. Her life was her kids, the house and that was that. Anything outside of that was just irrelevant and didn't matter a jot.

Maybe ignorance is the way to happiness, but I would prefer to know what is going on.

Labels: Movies, Thoughts

At the bus stop this morning Red turned up with a man. The two of them were obviously a couple. I could tell from the body language. Red sat with her back to the road, legs slightly apart, while he leaned in towards her. They were intent on each other, but she is a nice girl and nodded "hello" to me.

Red wore black pumps, blue pinstripe trousers, white frilly blouse, some kind of red checked waistcoat, purple jacket and white beads. Her hair was tied back with elastic bands in a ponytail. She was carrying a big funky brown bag, attached to which was a keyring with the name "Jenny" written on it.

(Ah... Watson. I deduct that her name is Jenny Red, then.)
(Ah... Holmes. You are such a twat.)

The fashionistas might have something to say about the colour coordination of the outfit, but knowing nothing about fashion I thought that Red looked a million dollars. A true transformation from how she presented herself before Wednesday, 13th September 2006. (Look up the date, if you are interested.)

Red has kept it up. She looked happy. Things can change.

My question is this.

Does the fact that I went out this morning, walked into a situation, thought it was interesting, decided that I wanted to remember everything (clothes, colours, etc.), mentally noted it, came back here hours later, sat down and wrote it all up, make me a voyeur?

I think the above little sketch was fairly innocent stuff, but I am becoming aware that I don't know when to stop. Do I, under the mask of anonymity, have the right to write about anything that I like? I'm not sure that I do. Would Red want me telling the world about her?

I'm not sure about this Blogging thing at all, anymore. Have I given away everything about myself (except for my real name, although some of you know what that is) for the sake of entertainment? Am I no better than someone like Kerry Katona or Elton John, who are always willing to talk about their latest drug/booze/sex addiction? Have they no shame? Don't they know what a private life is? Don't I know what a private life is? Don't I care about exposing other people's private lives to the world at large?

Lorraine would leave me tomorrow if she ever found out some of the things that I have written about her.

I just realised why I started the blog. I wanted to tell it how it is. How it is to me, at least. Anonymously. No comebacks. That is all ruined when you start to build personal relationships with people you have met over the Internet. At that point the mechanics of the blog changes. It becomes more of a message board. You start to have to deal with personal embaressment. Some of these people have met you and they know you.

Maybe I should never have started leaving comments on other blogs? Maybe I should never have reached out to people?

Confused post. Sorry.

It's a hurting time. Lorraine and I had our big chat a couple of nights ago. It has cleared the air, but it was a painful experience for both of us. I'm still trying to put together in my head exactly what was said, because I want it to be accurate when I finally write it up. It won't be tonight.

At work Lorraine has put her foot down with me, for my own good, and forced me to relinquish control of supporting the old product. After a handover tomorrow to the last of the programmers dealing with the old product (Hi there Gay Harry, of the luxurious moustache!), I will be dealing with the new product. She said that it will potentially secure my position during the uproar to come. She may well be right.

I think that Lorraine still cares.

Labels: Bloggers, Thoughts, Work

I've been thinking about Virginia Tech and about what recently happened.

There is a quote. I'm sure you know it.

"Guns don't kill people. People kill people".

I think that it was said in the wake of the Columbine shootings by somebody associated with the National Rifle Association, but I might be wrong. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that it is correct.

(Hang on! Hang on! Don't throw things at me. Let me finish.)

However, it needs to be pointed out that a gun is a much more efficient device for implementing mass murder than a knife or a hammer or a baseball bat. You can do it at a distance. You can avoid getting blood and brains and shit on yourself. You don't have to feel the resistance of a body when you strike it. You can be cool.

Give a man the tools...

Sad though it is to say, I believe that the tragic events at Virginia Tech will trigger little if any positive action in the fight for gun control. Politicians of all parties will make sincere and heartfelt speeches of condolence, but will still vote for their vested interests; their paymasters in the Pro Gun Lobby. Attempts to remove or amend the line 'A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed' in the second amendment of the American Constitution will fail, despite the fact that it was written for a completely different set of circumstances and is utterly inappropriate for the 21st century.

In a couple of more years you can expect another Virginia Tech, another Columbine, another Red Lake, another Nickel Mines and more mentally ill, sad, dispossessed, bullied, lonely, ignored outsiders on our TV screens.

No change. Business as usual.

Prove me wrong. I hope you do.

Labels: Quote, Thoughts