Afternoon Mugs,
Blimey what a week of utter cuntery? What with all the election shite being vomited from every potential candidate every minute of every day, relentlessly puking out statistics or promises to back up their claims, in massive volumes of dull grey choking ash like diatribes and soundbites that would put a Chilean volcano to shame, we also have dreadful news from Nepal which really warrants airtime and compassion. On top of this never ending gloom, or electoral power ego trip type news we also have something to brighten the day. An advert on the London Tube system portraying a young woman in a yellow bikini, asking us we are are 'beach body' ready yet.
Something to brighten the day up I thought. Something to remind me to keep on the exercise and sensible diet ready for some weeks in the sun later this summer. It's yellow as well, the whole ad, her bikini and the background, maybe even her hair. Yellow like the Sun. What's not too like?
Well loads according to 60,000 fuckwits who signed a petition to get it banned, even though the contract is up and TFL are removing it. Yeah, you see apparently it's sexist. Yeah sexist! And misogynistic . Yeah misogynistic! Obviously, I mean its a woman, in a bikini, posted without doubt by a man. On top of that it's promoting an unhealthy body image! Yeah unhealthy! Christ she looks dreadful, with that toned body doesn't she.
Now I will bow to no-one over any form of body fascism. Some of us are tall, some of us are short. You can be fat, be thin, be bald, be tattooed, dye your hair green, pierce your body and generally fill your boots. I don't give a fuck. I agree anorexics and bulimics have issues and need help but they are extremes...this patently isn't an extreme in any way. What do these complainers do when they see women like this on a beach? Do they blindfold themselves? Do they protest? Do they report it to the police. What about muscled blokes in trunks? Do i complain? Am I offended because I'll never look like that? No, I don't give a toss, that's what i do. If you don't like the ad, then fuck off and complain in your own head but don't waste time and fucking energy getting petitions together. Life's way too short for that sort of trivial bollocks.
Later Mugs, GJ
Evening Mugs
I've made a few minor changes to the side blogs, including the cast, the Liberation Party (undergoing a review being a so much has changed) and the rule of the Guild of Grumpy Blokes (now accepting applications from women). Have a look and you're more than welcome to suggest things for the manifesto, or additional rules of entry. You can't do fuck all about the cast in my life, well unless you get to know me better and that option is for a select few only.
Time as ever, is a bastard to find but hopefully the creative juices will flow, and there'll be new additions to the cast and other bits as I get back up to speed, and the discipline of writing again.
I'll also look around at what new capabilities Blogger has these days, although you needn't worry, video blogging is not in my strategic plan. I'd like to think the people who arrive here prefer the old art of reading stuff as opposed to watching it. That's my attitude anyway. I suppose this leads to me a convenient mini-rant about why the media who supply news and information via the internet feel the need to bombard us with video news?
I don't have time to sit down and watch news clips. Or magazine article clips. The BBC, an organisation I strongly support are fucking obsessed with video news on their website and mobile app. Well, at least offer me the alternative to 'read' about it rather than have to watch it. I can do stuff like read a bit and then return later, I can doze off nicely reading it. I can read it without disturbing others. I don't need to use headphones to read it. Looking at Sky News and all the others, it's much the same. As I say, video and audio is fine to a degree, but at least provide the option to read stuff only as well. Not much too ask, but something people who want to step away from the fast moving onslaught of visuals would welcome.
My only other moan for now is just the typical bollocks that as the weekend arrives the good weather decides to take a look at the UK and bugger off. I'd be fascinated if there is science to prove this is the case, or whether it's just the perception of me as a dyed in the wool, founding member of the Guild of Grumpy Blokes. Just for once, give me a weekend with no chores, no football, no social events and no visitors but laden with sunshine so i can chill, burn and knock over the odd flagon of ale.
Later Mugs, GJ
I hate it. It is a detestable extension of the actual newspaper, edited by the detestable Paul Dacre and owned by the hateful tax dodging Rothermere family.
So why am I drawn to reading it? Why don't I just ignore it and get on with my life? Most of it is celebrity bullshit 'news', or immigration scare-mongering mixed in with a portion of aircraft near misses, dire weather warnings or anti-BBC bollocks. It's crap. Utter crap. Bullshit bollocks crap.
I should know better, but yet every day there I am trolling through it.
I have a theory. It's like a moth drawn to the flame. it's the draw of putting your finger near the electricity point. It's the whole desire to be outraged. It's almost as if The Mail Online is a guaranteed spark to light the fire of rage that burns but sometimes doesn't surface.
It doesn't surface because we're continually bombarded with bad news, news designed to scare us, to worry us and now we're so used to it we subconsciously switch off to it all. By seeking out the rubbish, the bullshit, the spark of rage flickers and explodes. it's what keep us going. The Grumpy's will not accept blindly that everything is bad. We will acknowledge the bad and then seek out the rubbish in order to ridicule it and show it up for stupidity contained within it.
Oooh, that feels good. Something that keeps the outrage going, something I can constantly spit my bile at. Well done The Mail Online.
Later Mugs, GJ
An occasional series highlighting why grumpy bastards like me are seeing the world go to hell in a handcart.
So according to this absolute cunt, women who say no to sex actually usually mean yes.
http://goo.gl/gtdPQ9
Unbelievable fuckwittery of the highest order there. After all the years that people from all walks of life have pushed the 'no means no' message there are still arrogant pricks like this walking around not having had their bollocks removed or chemically dissolved to the size of dried lentils.
Well done, you've just set back the cause of decent men by 50 years. In all honesty, even if a woman playfully says no, then err on the side of caution and get the fuck out of Dodge. What's the worst that can happen then? She might get upset, she might take umbrage and think there's something wrong with her. But in all honesty this would be such an exception it's hardly worth worrying about. In my own experience, and bear in mind it's been some years since I was in the dating cattle market that N word meant one thing...well several maybe. it meant 'fuck off home', or maybe 'the pubs still open so see if your mates are about' or it meant 'sleep'. It did not mean carry on regardless as she's obviously confused, pissed or just plain wrong.
Assuming the prick in this story is guilty, lets see a decent sentence banging him up for 15 years , where he can learn the precise meaning of the word 'No' when about to be buggered by the prison stud and his mates.
Later Mugs, GJ
Ok, so now it's ALL about twitter. You'll find my pearls of wisdom and fuckwittery in equal proportion if you follow @GrumpyBlokesUK.
Later Mugs, GJ
Yes, yes I'm on Twitter. My twitter handle is @GrocerJackUK. Well it seemed as good as any. I originally started off with ChelseaXXXX, where XXXX is my real name but decided after a while that all anybody expected was Chelsea FC related tweets, when in fact like all budding egotist writers, deep down we want to be taken a bit seriously and be seen as having more dimensions that just bloody football.
Even if football is the thing I seem to tweet and write about more than anything else. So, here's my sort of promise to anyone who has been arsed to lift an eyelid and read this once popular blog, it will be a reasonably football free zone. I say reasonably because sadly I'm now 51 approaching 52 and that means about 42 years of my life have been spent wallowing in despair with regard to Chelsea FC. Even now, just 9 short months after winning the biggest club trophy in European football the idiots in charge at Chelsea have reduced us to a laughing stock and the worst defending European Champions seen to date.
Anyway the point is, I'm on Twitter. I didn't get it, but now I do, and what has struck me is how addictive and powerful it is. It's such a good and quick way to get snippets of news or opinion on things that interest you. I can ask people about a specific item I might be buying and get a view on how good or bad it is. This sort of crowd-sourcing has a genuine chance of putting consumers back in the driving seat instead of believing the marketing bullshit of the manufacturers. Similarly the power of twitter means that governments and people in power can no longer lie to people or try to cover things up. yes, of course Twitter is open to abuse from trolls. yes, people can be falsely branded as criminals, liars etc. But in it's own way that sort of thing is almost self healing. The power of Twitter does show that the majority view, the decent accumulation of opinion from decent people wins in the end.
The silent majority no longer have to be silent.
Try it, you might like it.
Later Mugs, GJ
New site, new look, new Jack?
Well maybe not. Still griping on about life and how shite the modern version is. Although I guess compared to previous versions it's all a bit of a doddle really. I mean, yes of course I have to get up early to go to work. But I get out of a warm bed into a hot shower and not off of a wooden bench with a hair blanket to go and toil in a field full of horse shit and mud. Yes I have to go through the rigmarole of eating a 'healthy' breakfast of muesli and yoghurt with orange juice when all I want is a full English. But again I could be getting up and eating half a mangy old carrot saved from yesterday. Or some 3 week old oats crawling with lovely little weevils, doused in un-pasteurised warm slightly off milk. Yes of course I have to drive 46 miles to work. But it's not on horseback in the open with howling wind and rain. No, I'm in a Volvo with the heating on, listening to my DAB radio.
Yes, of course I then have to do what others want and play the corporate games to please others and keep myself gainfully employed so I can pay the bills and try and enjoy some sort of luxury now and then, take holidays in the sun and play golf and go to football and drink decent beer in the pub once a week with friends. But even that's better than toiling in a field of shit and mud all day long, hands torn to shreds, clothes smelling like a cows arse with dysentery because I've nothing to change into or even wash in. Just to please a vindictive landowner who taxes me for living and whips and beats me in a non-enjoyable non-sexual way.
Modern life is shit. But it's a mild baby smelling shit compared to what went before. So I should be grateful.
But I'm not.
Later Mugs, GJ
