Going commando

I’ve been riding to work lately.  I decided to take advantage of the fact that for the first time in ages I’m working within a practical biking distance from home.  As I’m grossly unfit that translates as about two suburbs or a half hour ride.  So I’ve been riding in when weather permits.  By “weather permits” I mean I’m a wuss and if it’s raining or looks like raining or has recently been raining I won’t ride my bike.  Work sucks enough without being cold and miserable when I get there.

I have a few reasons for biking it: health (hopefully gaining a little of), ecological benefits and the fact that although I only live 7km from work the fucked up public transport system means the trip takes at least 45 minutes most days.  I think I will dedicate a whole blog post to how fucked up the public transport system is.  So, I’m losing some weight, getting to work faster and feeling less stressed.  When cars don’t try to kill me (another whole blog post).

Anyway, I’m still experimenting with some aspects of the ride.  I take my work clothes in my backpack and there are shower facilities at work where I can get changed.  I’ve mixed and matched various pieces of work apparel to discover which ones survive being rolled up in my backpack best.  What I have learned is that I shouldn’t vary my behaviour too much because every fucking time I change something I forget something.

Today, I came up with a brilliant idea regarding my underwear.  I know this is a little intimate but I feel my audience is ready for it.  The decision was to not wear any while I was riding.  I have to change my sweaty jocks along with my other clothes when I get to work and I thought “Why bother?”  I don’t wear spandex when I ride so it isn’t as if I’d be putting the family jewels on show (the way people decide they have to start wearing fucking spandex as soon as they start riding a bike is worth another blog post as well.)  So I thought just wear trakky daks and change into undies along with my work clothes.

It made sense but that one change in behaviour fucked me up!  Because I wasn’t wearing underwear, I forgot to fucking packing any!  So I get to work and I’m forced to face the whole day commando-style!  And considering I’m wearing woollen suit pants, it’s an uncomfortable experience.  Besides the chafing, I hate the swinging in the breeze feeling.  So much so, I think I’m going out shopping for some underwear.

Man, I HATE freeballing.

666- The nature of evil

Believe it or not, I’ve just posted my 666th video to YouTube.  Being a metal fan from way back, I decided to do a Judas Priest tribute!

Finding a benefactor

I find myself feeling an odd sense of waywardness lately.  I have my day job but I hardly love what I’m doing.  I’m also in no rush to give it up because it pays well and I don’t find the work particularly hard.  Then there’s the bloggy/video maing thing which I do love but pays me approximately the square root of fuck-all.  This is hardly a problem of earth shaking proportions and I’m not feeling overly angst ridden about it.  Just… wayward.

I have a job that more than pays the bills and a creative pastime that I enjoy.  I should be happy.  And I am, mostly.  I just want more.  To be specific, like most online media creators I dream of making a full time living doing this thing that I like to do.  Hell, I’m 42.  It’s about time I got started on an actual career that I care about.

Thinking about it, I realised I don’t necessarily have to make money from what I do online.  I’d happily keep doing this for fun if I had a day job I was truly passionate about rather than simply good at.  Oh, and it has to keep paying quite well too.  I’m not a fucking charity.  But whenever anyone asked me about a “dream” job I’ve always had a bit of trouble articulating an answer.

I came up with the best answer I’ve had for myself today while reading yet another article about how greedy telcos and complicit governments are making more and more moves towards crushing the open internet and replacing it with a gated, controlled system.  Like pay TV.  Or early AOL.  Really fucking horrible in other words.  More and more online geeks are getting up in arms about this.  If I hadn’t already used “the square root of fuck all” in this post I would use it again to describe how much effect angry blog posts are going to have.

Thousands of angry geeks vs. a handful of greedy (and ultimately self-destructive) companies that have spent millions buying politicians.  I wonder how that one’s gonna turn out.  But after reading a few other things I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a ray of hope.  Our last, best chance is Google.

I’m no Google cheerleader.  I think the whole “Don’t be evil” thing is bullshit.  Their involvement with China showed that “evil” is a rather mutable concept.  But they aren’t a telco.  And if the Telcos fuck the internet, they fuck Google.  And I don’t think Google is going to stand by and let that happen.

The telcos and entertainment companies that want to strangle the internet have more money than god, which they’ve been using to buy politicians.  They’re also greedy, stupid and scared because they have no idea what the future will bring.  Google also have more money that god.  And they happen to be smart.  Very, very smart and their plan is to create the future.

So my dream job is to work for Google, specifically to help with their plans to fuck up the telco cartel.  Because I really hate those pricks.  And Google pay lots of money.

Or maybe I need to be independently wealthy.  Win a lottery or something.  Mental note: must purchase lottery ticket to win lottery.  This raises your chance of winning from zero to just marginally above zero.  I also have a plan to get a wealthy benefactor:

Shut the fuck up!

Here’s a little bit of fun.  At the suggestion of one of my YouTube commenters, I spliced together multiple grabs of me saying/shouting “shut the fuck up” from my recent run of videos telling various people to STFU.  I think it works rather well.

Straight after making it, I thought it was the perfect thing to pass along to anyone who’s been pissing you off.  I suggest using the subject line “Consider yourself told”.  See what you think:

If you feel like passing it on, here’s the URL:

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=g-aovNhtKLU

And I also made an audio version for anyone who wants a new ringtone:

http://www.filedropper.com/aastfu

Why I love elitists

There are many things about the debasement of the political process in the USA and public discourse generally that make me angry.  Not least is the practice developed and refined by the Republicans (and eagerly embraced by the Democrats) that the constant repetition of a lie makes it true.  This manifests in many ways, from Bush making a speech about the economy (which he has fucking destroyed) in front of a backdrop repeating the phrase “Economy showing strong growth” to my personal favourite, deriding a candidate as “elitist”.

The “elitist” one pisses me off the most for a few reasons.  Firstly, in what sort of twisted, fucked-up Idiocracy style universe do you not want the elite running things?  Why is having the world run by unintelligent “average folks” a good fucking thing?  Excuse me, but given the choice between some spoiled, stupid motherfuckers like Bush and/or McCain and eloquent, well read individuals like Obama or Clinton I’ll take the smart ones thank you very much.

My plea to leaders around the world: please be elitist.  Do us all a favour and don’t pander to the lowest common denominator.  There’s a reason stupid people don’t often run things.  They’re fucking stupid.  And they’re almost never worth listening to.  Elitism all the way!

The second reason this line pisses me off is because it’s usually spouted by the most extreme elitists around.  Seriously, I don’t need multi-millionaires enlightening me as to who is elitist and who has the common touch.  Whether it’s mega-wealthy politicians who have led a life of privelege or or gasbag talking head media pricks with multi-million dollar contracts, these fucking hypocrites are the least qualified people on the fucking planet when it comes to knowing the common touch.

It’s enough to make a body angry.

I hadn’t intended to get this angry when I started making the video so i guess this topic must have been getting to me more than I realised.

Get together in Melbourne July 26th

I have no idea how many people who read this blog are actually in or around Melbourne.  For anyone who is (or can be on July 26th) a few local YouTubers are having a get together in Federation Square starting at noon.

We’ve had these small get togethers before and we’re trying to encourage more people to get out and meet up.  Here’s a few videos I’ve made with guys who have been involved in previous gathering:

Mr Angry and the Scientologists

I wasn’t going to touch Scientology again for a while because I don’t like to run themes into the ground but some of the comments that appeared on YouTube prompted me to follow up with a story I’d been considering sharing for a while.  There were two main types of comments that prompted me to revisit the topic.

The first were comments from Scientologists.  Some identified themselves as such and said they weren’t so bad.  More often, they claimed to not be Scientologists but proclaimed to support the “Church” of Scientology (CoS) in the name of fighting bigotry.  These idiots were so laughably obvious I have no idea why they insisted on the charade.  I guess they were going with the “sucker born every minute” line of thinking and they assume if they repeat blatant falsehoods often enough at least someone will believe them.

The second type of comments that troubled me were from atheists spouting the “all religions are the same” line.  While that’s a seductive line of thinking, particularly to unsophisticated thinkers, it simply isn’t true.  It’s a lot of fun to say “They have crazy beliefs about other-worldly powers that defy logic?  Sound like every religion to me,” or “Their sole reason for existence is to control the minds and lives of their followers and take as much of their money as possible?  Isn’t that what Christianity has been doing for over 1,000 years?”  The thing is, CoS is different.

From the first contact you have with them, the primary goal of CoS is to manipulate you.  They want to find out what’s important to you, how you think, what you want in life.  And they won’t hesitate to lie to you to bring you into their sphere of influence.  The difference between CoS trying to get your money and, say, the Catholic Church (of whose methods I have intimate knowledge) trying to get your money is pretty straightforward.

Catholics try to guilt you into giving them your money voluntarily.  CoS try to force you to pay for your enlightenment.  Catholics are more than willing to give out their version of enlightenment free of charge.  In fact, like most Christians, they’ll gleefully push their beliefs and teaching on anyone who doesn’t run fast enough.  CoS absolutely will not share their teachings with anyone who does not pay for them.  They have repeatedly sued people who have distributed their teachings freely on the grounds that their copyright is being infringed.

You know, like money making corporations do.

You can argue, sometimes convincingly, that all religions push inherently dangerous beliefs and try to manipulate people.  But CoS is different in that they are pushing a deliberately fabricated set of teachings for the sole purpose of making money.  They use all the cult tricks to attain their ends.  They are dangerous.

In this video, I tell the story of how I took the CoS “free personality test”.  Turns out I didn’t have one.  LOL!  I kid, I kid.  What I did learn from taking this test is that the test itself is dangerous.  It is designed to find out where you are vulnerable.  It is designed to find your psychological weaknesses.  And these people will not hesitate to exploit anything they find.  They will lie and tell you that Scientology addresses you core concerns directly.  This is a lie because this is what they say to everybody.  And it can’t possibly be true for everybody.

This test is the simplest level of contact you can have with CoS.  It is the first thing they do with people.  And it is dangerous.  It is not a harmless bit of fun that might show you a little about yourself.  It is the doorway to letting some really ruthless people take control of your life.  They don’t care what damage they do to you.  All they want to do is widen their sphere of influence.  Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re the same as any other religion.  That is a lie that they want you to believe.

The biggest danger to CoS is former members breaking free and letting the truth of their inner workings be known.  Their greatest hope is to gain more and more converts before the truth about them is known widely enough.

Ghost Office Part II – The Exit

A couple of weeks ago I decided to amuse myself during my lunch hour by shooting a short film in an empty office building during my lunch hour.  It was more popular than I expected and many people asked for a sequel which I really wasn’t expecting.  Apparently people wanted to know how I got out.

I like to oblige.  Although I had intended for “Ghost Office” to be a stand alone little snippet I put a little thought into how to do a sequel.  And so here it is, your sequel where I finally find an exit.

Injured in the line of duty

I’ve spent today deep in hypochondria.  Every little muscle twinge and pain in my body has made me think I’m suffering some serious injury as a result of a little mishap on the tram yesterday.  One of our public transport choices in Melbourne is a rather extensive tram network.  The trams have a certain charm as a mode of transport but they have to share the roads with other vehicles which leads to occasional misadventures when some bastard in a car cuts off a tram and it has to stop suddenly.

Actually, the shitty tram drivers cause misadventures all on their own with sudden jarring stops and starts at each stop.  Most drivers, however, have mastered the art of smooth acceleration and deceleration.  This is important as one of the drawbacks of the tram is that 9 times out of 10 the fucking thing is so overcrowded you don’t stand a chance of getting a seat.  Sometimes the jolts are so severe that holding on to a strap doesn’t cut it.  Every now and then there are injuries of the broken bone type.

I didn’t see what caused my particular calamity but I’d like to have the chance to give a serve to the prick that made the tram driver jam on the brakes.  And possibly the tram driver if the severity of the stop wasn’t warranted.

It was a weird experience.  If it was a few seconds later I would have been safely in a seat.  As it was, I was in the middle aisle facing towards the back of the tram.  And then Mister Sudden Stop paid a visit.  The tram wasn’t going very fast but coming to a sudden dead stop was more than enough to end my standing up-ness that has seemed so stable just a second before.  I was seriously airborne.

For the briefest of moments I was like unto Superman.  I was flying.  For about a metre.  And then it turns out that gravity has more super powers than me.  And I landed square on my arse.  Luckily this was a padded landing and I didn’t land right on my coccyx because I probably would have broken it.  As it was, the shock wave from the force of my landing shot straight up my spine and into my skull.

The force of the shock to my head was so strong I was actually convinced that I had hit my head on something.  But there was nothing behind me.  You can tell it was a massive shock because all I could manage expletive-wise was one loud “SHIT!” as my butt crashed earthwards.  Anyone remotely familiar with my swearing habits would know I have no problem with launching into a long string of profanity when faced with even a minor setback.  In this case I was too stunned.

I sat there for a moment thinking (but not saying ) “fuck, that hurt!”.  It was probably only a second or two until two guys tried to help me to my feet.  They were either side of me, each holding an arm and they’d lifted me a little off the floor.  I figured, yeah, getting up is a good idea.  But I couldn’t do it.

I was still stunned and my inability to get up had me thinking I’d suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury.  Then I realised the “helpful” blokes were actually holding me at an angle that robbed me of all leverage.  I couldn’t get up under my own power and they weren’t lifting me all the way to my feet, they were just sort of supporting me.  I didn’t want to seem rude and say “let go of me you idiots” but I was still too disoriented to come up with a more subtle way of explaining the situation.

So I’m being supported by two blokes, stupidly saying nothing which I’m sure makes it look like I’m concussed.  I’m not completely convinced that this isn’t the case myself.  Another few seconds and the worst of it passes and I manage to get to my feet and find a seat.  I’m still shaken up though.  So much so that I don’t even think of going up to the tram driver and screaming “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT?”

And today, every little thing convinces me I’ve suffered to debilitating injury.  And I should be suing the fuck out of the tram operator.  Minor headache?  I’m probably bleeding into my brain.  Sore back?  I must have cracked a vertebra.  Aching shoulder?  Not sure what that means but I’m sure it’s the trams fault.

Uncontrollable outburst of rage?  Clearly the trams fault.  I was never prone to that before the accident.

Scientology is not a religion, it is a dangerous cult

I’ve been planning a bit of an anti-scientology rant ever since I read about a kid getting charged by the cops in England for holding a banner that had the slogan I used for the title of this post.  This article suggests a pretty disturbing scenario with the cops involved possibly owing more alliegence to scientology than they laws they’re supposed to uphold.

Then I found this article that gives details of the secret scientology paid 8 million dollars to try and cover up.  If you weren’t sure if scientology was actually dangerous, read this article.  If it doesn;t freak you right the fuck out, there’s something wrong with you.