Social media muggery

Evening Mugs,

I'm 55. Yep 55. Mid-fifties. Middle aged. On the downward slope of life. 

It's interesting to me that since this blog started way back in about 2004 how it was a key part of my life, like diary writing for the middle aged who couldn't be arsed before.   Then as other social media came into play it faded when faced with the might of Facebook and Twitter. Yeah there were brief occasional witterings full of bile, possibly admiration, maybe even happiness, all laced with hints or promises to get back into writing. I even convinced myself that it didn't matter who read it, if anyone did at all because the joy and cathartic nature of putting thoughts into writing was enough to keep it going. At the start the creative juices were plentiful and the mind was constantly moist. 

Sadly it wasn't to last and over time laziness became the overriding maxim when I came to writing. I just couldn't be arsed to rant, or to find moments of interest in an otherwise ordinary and dull and increasingly contented  life. That and being 'discovered' by friends and family which meant despite the anonymisation of them via nicknames, some were upset for reasons of 'fuck-allness' but by doing so immediately marked themselves as sensitive drama queens that I could do without in my life. Some would then relate anecdotes to me about them for inclusion and of course some who would then try and act weird or wacky in order for me to include them.  Anyone who acts weird or whacky, or describes themselves as such is just suffering from John Major Syndrome. 

Facebook is nowadays, for me, merely a dad joke and picture upload forum with occasional comments, and perhaps it's best served as a mechanism to keep in touch with friends old and new without the hassle of actually speaking to them. Facebook is OK but it doesn't sate the need to vent, rant, praise, critique or opine in full. Twitter, with it's 140 character limit feels similar, a place to speak freely unless of course you speak against the crowd, after which it becomes a lynch mob of nappy shitting keyboard warriors with a genetically missing sense of context and the lack of basic intelligence with which to debate any subject or opinion with subtlety or nuance. Twitter is odd because it allows anyone to join a conversation irrespective of whether they have been asked or invited. You don't even need to use a polite 'I couldn't help overhearing you....' interjection to bring you into someones chat. Despite this, I have nearly 2000 'followers' which massages the ego nicely, and for the most part they are all Chelsea related and I have made an awful lot of good friends in real life by blind date meetings with them in pre-football match venues. In TwitterLand, when you meet for real,  everyone has 2 names, the one you introduce yourself by (@grocerjackuk) and your real name. 

Snapchat? I have no idea how it works or what it could do for me (pissed old hack baffled by new technology as Private Eye used to say). 

Instagram is OK, and I like the idea of a photo upload system and a social media based on that. Instagram can convey a moment much like Twitter and Facebook, with the added bonus that the underlying nastiness of Twitter has yet to pervade it. Safe, nice and maybe a bit dull. 

Where Facebook is extraordinarily tedious is with people sharing stupid hoaxes, promises of free Range Rovers, SUVs, Lodge Holidays and any number of crap cod philosophy quotes or unfunny videos. No matter how many times I post a friendly 'hoax' warning, there are still people seemingly so dim that they genuinely think someone has a warehouse full of iPads they need to give away for free because of over-stocking. Yes, because giving away £400 tablets because of an over-order that they, the seller, has had to pay for is  a very sustainable business model isn't it? 

And don't get me started on the like-farming wankers who post stock pictures of disadvantaged or ill people and then ask for 'likes' or even more sickeningly an 'amen' comment. These are just cunts, and sadly the people who spread this stuff, well intentioned or not, are the equivalent of the morons who used to pass on chain letters at secondary school. They are fuckwits, unwitting and gullible maybe, but fuckwits all the same. 

Anyway I digress. It seems the lure of writing has tentatively returned. I've been inspired by one person, who shall remain nameless but their ability to write fascinating historical tomes at what I'm guessing is a tender mid-20s age, or to write blog articles about my beloved Chelsea FC post match, whilst simultaneously doing an impression of a gin hoover is nothing short of deeply impressive. For someone so young, they are pretty 'old school' and almost entirely down to their drive and example that finding and making time to write is the key to .....errrr......writing,  I have decided to try, once again, to come out of retirement and kick start this old blog.

I've updated a few rules of the Guild , a few of the occasional 'cast' and some rules of my Liberation Political Party which the UK is crying out for under my benign dictatorship :) 

See them here

The ornaments lining GrumpyBloke Hall's dimly lit passages are being dusted down, the fading incandescent light bulbs being replaced by new shiny bright LED versions, the carpet is due to be 'shake and vac'd' , doors, skirting and frames given a lick of paint and walls given a new coat and a steam clean. Money is ready to be loaded into the meter and new pictures hung on the newly painted walls. All my old posts, good, bad, funny, unfunny, hateful and joyous are still sitting on the virtual bookshelves. The Guild of Grumpy Blokes has opened it's eyes......

All in all, this time, it's worth a try.

Later Mugs, GJ