Inspiration...

Can come in many guises. People can inspire you to be better than the masses, books can inspire you and music can also inspire you. So my question for today is...

"What has inspired you?

In the name of fairness I shall list the things that have inspired me.

People...

Bill Hicks.
A comedic giant who never once shirked away from letting his audiences into his deepest, darkest inner thoughts. Bill Hicks inspired me not to kowtow to other peoples ideas of what is right and wrong to talk about. No subject should ever be taboo, silence will only ever make the subject in hand develop into something that it never was in the first place.



Martin Luther King.
Martin Luther King should have been the first black president of the United States of America. Had he not been assassinated MLK would have united the people to create a fairer place for people of all races. His seminal "I have a Dream"speech is an inspiration to me whenever I listen to it. One day I hope to see MLK's dream of races around the world uniting in the name of humanity.



Hunter S Thompson.

Mentioned in the same sentences as such authors as Ernest Hemingway, J. D. Salinger and Jack Kerouac, Hunter S Thompson inspired me to write. Fair enough I'm nowhere near these literary giants but that's not the point. The point is that I'm writing. *See Update Below*

Who is the new Who?

So the current season of Dr Who is coming to an end with a two part episode which sees Rose and the Dr reunited along with the rest of the Whooby Gang in a battle to save earth from the nasty clutches of long time enemy Davros and his Daleks.

The question that hangs in my head, apart from the obvious one of "How did everyone manage to get a signal on their mobile phone when the Earth had been transported several light years from its original position?"[1][2] is, who will be the new Who?

I have sent a message to the families resident whovian[5] and asked if he knows and will report back as soon as he replies. Until then, stay tuned...



[1] I can't get a signal in my living room and yet all and sundry manages to get one when the earth is whooshed across the galaxy.
[2] Some geek will probably attempt to shoot me down in flames by saying that The Dr has modified the phones [3] so they can be used without needing a satellite to bounce off of.[4]
[3] In which case I say this... When the hell did The Dr become the galactic version of Car-phone Warehouse?
[4] I'm assuming that Davros and the Daleks would only be interested in stealing the earth and wouldn't bother with the communications satellites as they could be used by an enemy to plot an uprising.
[5] He may not reply given that I have referred to him as a whovian and he hates this.

Now that I'm off the dole...

I can get back into work mode and let all those poor unfortunate fuckers that are rotting away in A4E how to get the hell out of there and do something more productive.

So, how do you get yourself out of A4E? Simple. Just get up and walk on out the door. That's all there is to it. And how is this possible? Well, allow me to explain. Firstly A4E is not a government program that must be attended in order to get benefits. It's basically a way for the government to fiddle the books on the number of unemployed.

I was sent to A4E by the benefits office (And actually attended several times before I decided that I had had enough of the horseshit that was involved in doing so.) as I had been unemployed for more than six months. And this is where the government fiddle comes into play.

You know all the reports that the government likes to shove in the direction of the news agencies? (I'm assuming you do or you wouldn't be reading this.) Well they're all bullshit. That's right kids, the government lies in order to hide the truth. And how do they do this? They send you and others to places like A4E and adjust the figures to make it appear that you and others are no longer on the dole and drawing unemployment benefits.

Once you are at A4E the pressure upon you to fill out application forms is more direct than it is when you only have to apply for a couple of jobs a week in order to keep the benefits office at bay. (According to your jobseekers agreement that you sign you are required to apply for a minimum of two jobs per week or your benefits may be stopped.) And at A4E they have you as a captive audience where they can monitor you on a tighter basis.

You'll notice after a few days at A4E that there is a lot more pressure to apply for jobs and employers even turn up and interview you at the A4E offices. Fair enough the jobs on offer are not the type of job you either want, or are suitable for, but that's not the point. It's all about getting shot of you so the government can do the old wham bam flim flam on the news agencies and make it look like they are making a difference.

And therein lies the truth about A4E. It's all smoke and mirrors folks. Fuck em and the boat they paddled up shit creek in. Do yourself a favour and get out of there before it's too late. Or stay and end up working as a security guard on minimum wage and struggling to make ends meet while the fucker who set you up in the first place draws in a salary on the other side of £25 large, has a decent pension and drives a BMW to work.

Here endeth the lesson.

*Please note, no responsibility will be taken by me for you having your benefits stopped should you choose to leave A4E. If you want my advice on how to get the dole off your back do this... Get a job that you can bear until you get a job you want. Good luck.

...

4:16am

It's only me, the snails and an urban fox that are wandering the pathways. Early dawn light filters through the low cloud base and teases at the shadows of houses filled with sleeping people. Children lie in their beds sleeping the sleep of the innocent and parents sleep sound in the knowledge that their progeny are safe from the horrors of the world.

My mind is empty yet there is something on my mind. Thus the reason I wander the streets with my cigarettes, my thoughts and the company of early morning songbirds. I consider calling someone to talk but the only people awake at this time are in far off lands where the day is already half done. These people are in the wrong frame of mind to deal with me and my baggage so I forget the idea and continue walking.

The 24 hour garage offers an oasis where I can get a drink but the doors are locked to prevent robberies. "No customer admittance between the hours of 1am and 7am" A sign on the door reads. I try the door, a futile gesture, and am stared at by the night shift idiot. I knock on the door and am greeted with a look of mistrust from the guy on duty. I try to explain myself through the small gap in the door.

"Read the sign!" He shouts to make himself heard through the strengthened security glass.
"All I want is something to drink and a chocolate bar. I'm not going to rob you." I say, pleadingly.
"Fuck off now or I'll call the police!" He shouts, waving the telephone as though it were a sword and he was defending a castle against a horde of invaders.
"All I want is a drink." I say, giving the door another push.
"I'm dialing now!" Comes the reply.

Giving the door a light kick, I turn to walk away before he decides I am a genuine threat and dials the federales. "Whatever happened to trust in your fellow man!" I bellow as I walk away. I turn to see that the night shift nitwit has the phone to his ear and is speaking to someone.

I figure he is merely making it appear to me that he is calling for assistance rather than actually calling in the cavalry and alter my route slightly so that I am out of his sight. The less he can tell the cops, if they are indeed on their way, the better.

Lighting another cigarette and taking care not to tread on the snails that occupy the pathways I wander homeward. The early morning light has turned the low clouds an orange tint and a wail of a siren in the distance is carried on the breeze.

All is peaceful in the world. Or so it seems.

Inside my heart I know that is false and the thought depresses me.

Somewhere on this planet...
A Mother is mourning a son lost to a war she does not understand...
A Father is identifying the body of his raped and murdered daughter...
A Sister is weeping for her stillborn child...
A Brother is sucking in lungfuls of carbon monoxide as the car engine idles...
A Child is starving...

Could you sleep knowing these things?

Thanks must go to...

Rach for pointing me in the direction of playlist.com.

My playlist page can be seen by clicking here.

Rest in peace...

"May the forces of evil become distracted on the way to your house."
George Carlin.

Wherever you are man, I hope it's better than here.
But not too nice because then you'd have nothing to complain about.
And that'd be a cunt of a place for you.

Back in the news...

That's me got myself into the Edinburgh Evening news again in their "High 5" section. According to my man at the news it's where "Edinburgh residents with some kind of standing list their five favourite things in Edinburgh."

Would you believe it? I have some kind of standing!

It's my choice of five great places in Edinburgh. To see them click here.

Some funny pictures...

Here's a video that's strangely heartwarming.

Visit the man behind it all.

I made this...

Small video of some of the pictures from Florida.



Hope you enjoy it.

"When the time is ready I shall send my only son to the earth to show them how to laugh."

The Grand Whazoo.*

***************************************

And lo it came to pass that The Grand Whazoo did send his only son to earth. And you can join him in his quest to make the world giggle by joining him by clicking here.

***************************************

Family Friendly.
No service charge.
Tuesday is ladies night.
Special drinks promotions all week.
Happy hour all day.
Students of philosophy welcome.
Biker friendly.
No Scientists.
Please tip your waitress.
***************************************

*During an acceptance speech for "Best god in a humourous role" award during the realm of gods, deitys and martyrs awards ceremony held at the Valhalla Holiday Inn. **

**(Tell them Marty sent you for a special reduction in rates.)

Having missed...

At least two Moto GP races due to my holiday in Florida, I'm really looking forwards to this weekends race at Donnington Park.

As always Valentino Rossi is one of the favorites to win the race but fellow riders such as Casey Stoner and Dani Pedrosa will be doing their level best to deny Rossi another top step on the podium at his adopted home race.

In a British GP the weather can play an unexpected role. Should the heavens open and a torrent of rain be let loose on the track wet weather demons Chris Vermuelen and Randy De Puniet could be a threat.

Pictures from Universal Studios Orlando...

Pictures from Disney's Magic Kingdom...

Politics would be so much more entertaining if...

George W Bush did this kind of thing.

In the immortal words of James Brown...

I'm back.

So, that's the holiday over and I'm back in Edinburgh. I was welcomed home by a pile of brown envelopes and enough junk mail to prevent me from opening my front door fully without resorting to a hefty kick. The brown envelopes are mostly from companies demanding money of some sort but they can kiss my rusty sheriffs badge until I can pay it. Fuck 'em if they don't like it.

I'm currently under the effects of jet lag which despite my propensity for lying in my bed all day isn't as much fun as it should be. A long lie in bed should be exactly that, a long lie, not some kind of weird inability to sleep until 9am and passing out like a squaddie on parade in 1oo° heat and waking up five hours later with a mouth so dry there are cacti growing on it.

Today I'll be mostly spending my time uploading the pictures from the holiday to mediafire so all you lot can look at them and think "Look, random people in sunshine." or whatever the hell it is you lot think. Fucked if I know, I'm too tired to rationalise at this moment.

Here's the link to the pics should you wish to look at them.

It's the all new tattoo show...

Dr Gonzo.
From an original drawing by Ralph Steadman.
Ink work by InkInk tattoo parlour Orlando.

You might be a redneck....

We'd stopped to fill up the cars as we drove from Tampa to Miami. My sister was driving one car and my dad was driving the other. I'd been designated gas monkey so I filled the car that my dad was in and then began to fill the other car. Sarah rolled down the window of the car and began speaking in a redneck accent.

"If'n y'all clean ma windshield I'mma gonna give y'all a dollah." She said.
"A whole dollah? Why I'd do damn neah anythang for a dollah missy." I replied.
"Well if'n y'all clean ma windshield wif yo boobs I'mma give you five dollahs and if you jump up on heah and clean ma windshield wif yo ass I'mma gonna give y'all ten dollahs."

From there on in it continued...

"Hoo-eee missy. I'd like to introduce y'all to ma wife and sistah. That's her right over theah."
"Mah little girl is so talented, she can sing real good out both her mouths."
"I got's me three kids, one of each."
"I'm real proud of my kids, I'm always asking them to gimme six."

When the gas pump finished I went into the store to buy a pack of cigarettes. Sarah pulled the car in behind the other car and as I passed I knocked on the passenger window. Cousin Angie rolled the window down and I spoke.

"A'hm real sorry missy but ah caint do y'all windscreen. Mah mantitties are lactatin."

American TV is designed to distract

the masses from ever discovering that the politicos are busy selling the future down the river.

Short bursts of programming, interspersed with quick fire advert breaks, make up the majority of American TV. Because of this the average American seems to me to have the attention span of a dead goldfish and the intelligence to match.

A couple of days ago we stayed in a motel at cocoa beach where, due to an excessive consumption of Myers's dark rum, I got to talking to one. Firstly he started on the "Rag heads" then moved on to "Slopes" and finished with a rousing double barrelled denouncement of the "Camel Jockeys" and "Niggers."

It took me all my time not to let loose with a volley of insults but for all I knew he may have had easy access to a firearm and may have taken things the wrong way. My shock at the lack of respect for any race, colour or creed led me to think that we had inadvertently stumbled into Cracker Central.

Things like this could lead me to think that all Americans are ill informed, ignorant idiots that do not appreciate the basic rights that they proudly claim to have. And that would be wrong. Not only because it is wrong to tar a whole populace with the same brush but because I know quite a few Americans and they have all been wonderful, witty and welcoming people.

The ironic thing was that less than fifteen feet away a lesbian and her wife to be were celebrating the fact that they were to be married the following day and Bubba-Joe Fuckwit didn't bat an eyelid.

Kennedy Space Centre...

Rocket Engine.

Command Module.



The Obelisk. (What this has to do with NASA is beyond me.)



A video display about Mars.



Space Shuttle replica.

Rocket.

Space Shuttle and Rocket Boosters.

NASA Badge.

Command Module.

Model of Rocket.

JFK NASA building.

Another Rocket.

There's something disturbingly funny about this...

More Pictures From Universal Studios...

Some Pictures From Universal Studios...

This post is brought to you in association with...

American TV.

I'm sitting in the Villa watching TV. The women have gone shopping and my old man, my brother and the boys have gone to play tennis at the clubhouse.

Advertisment break.

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Back to regular programing.

Last night we took a trip to Seaworld for a couple of hours where I got to ride Kraken for the first time. Sheikra at Busch Gardens seemed to me like it would be hard to top but I was wrong. Kraken in Seaworld was ten times as much fun. Tonight we're going back for a few hours and I'll be attempting to ride Kraken as many times as possible. I managed four times last night and hope to get twice as many tonight.

Up, up and away!

There are some things you may only get one chance in your life to do. Seeing a shuttle launch is one of those things. Been there, done that. Honestly, there really aren't the words to describe the sight of a shuttle blasting towards space at a speed that you truly cannot comprehend.

We've all broken the speed limit on occasion. Many of us have even strayed into triple digits on occasion and have pushed the boundaries of both sense and state troopers. But very few of us have opened the throttle on a machine capable of producing enough thrust to break free of the earth and go directly vertical for 50 miles in less time than it takes to say "Holy Jeebus, would you look at the god-damned speed of that thing."

Image (c) NASA.