Weirdest Dream lately :
I dreamed I was on the "other side" when my Dad was passing. I spoke to him and made sure he was okay. Then I woke, and knew he was gone. 30 minutes later, we got the call from the hospital saying that his blood pressure had crashed in the last 30 minutes.
Currently working on :
A BTVS related story called "Long Goodbye" which deals with a member of the Watchers Council being vamped as part of an experiment.
Also completing my nanowrimo effort.
A blog for that outspoken and aggressive member of the Buffy Bulletin Board.
Thursday, February 27, 2003
Hanging in there
Well, a few hours have gone by. I got called down to the hospital not long after blogging here, and have just got back. They reckon a small blood vessel burst in his throat, and a specialist is going to see him in about 2 hours. We'll know more then. For now, I need sleep as I'm exhausted. It looks like it may not be that serious, but the ENT man hasn't seen him yet. Here's hoping. posted by Manchild at 6:02 AM
A few minutes ago, my Dad woke up coughing blood. We reckon the tumor is bleeding. The Ambulance just arrived and took him away, with Mother and sister in tow. I've been asked to stay behind.
I really want to call my brother right now, but he's asleep in another timezone, and my Dad asked me not to call him.
Fuck it. I'm really worried, and this writing spiel isn't helping me calm down.
He's been in a bad way the last few days, but nothing like this.
I never realised how little I knew about first aid. Is it good or bad that the blood is light or dark? How serious is a hemoraging (sp?) tumor anyway?
I'll be kept updated by my sisters cellphone. And fuck it, I'm going to call the brother. If its not serious, then he'll miss a nights sleep. So what? If it is serious, I'd want to know in his position.
It will come as no surprise to those who know me, that I am a sceptic. When ever someone starts talking about UFO's or Ghosts, or Channelling, or Creationism, or Pyramid power, Crystals, or god help us, CROP CIRCLES, it's all I can do to keep myself from reaching over and ripping their throats out. An extreme response, I know, but I think if we all acted in the same way, there'd be a lot less of these charlatans to go around.
Now, I had this crazy idea that my family, not being particularly insane in anyway, might recognise a bullshit artist by sense of smell alone. Apparently not.
My sister, much as I love her, is an idiot. She is insisting on bringing a "Healer" in to see my Dad, who as I've mentioned before has cancer.
Now I know what some will say, "any port in a storm" and "what harm can it do" etc... Well, CRAP!
Every time some pansy-ass who can't face reality indulges one of these screwballs, they're making it a little more likely that the next suckers will be drawn in. Because THIS healer has a wealth of testmonials and references etc... which is why my sister wants him brought in. It's a self-perpetuating cycle.
This particular knob-end claims he works for free. But I'll bet you dimes to donuts that he won't be averse to a "donation" of some shape or description.
This is the 21st century. Surely we deserve to have come further than this?
I talked it over with my Dad, who is more tolerant than me. Not of healers you understand. Just my sister. He says she's trying to help, in the only way she knows how. And maybe he's right but she's going to lend credibility to this asshole, and that's something I can't stand.
If he looks for as much as a cent, I'll bounce him out the door so fast, he'll fucking DOPPLER. But if he tries to get my Dad to abandon the scientific treatment, I'm afraid I'll have no choice to but to kill him, and bury him in the backyard since he's a danger to humanity.
Well, it's been a tough week. The nominations have come from far and wide. But that time is upon us, and the judges decision, while due YESTERDAY, was delayed until we could get a majority consensus. (That's only fair, I'm sure you'll agree. Shut up Dubya.)
The Nominations Are :
1) Jacques Chirac : For blatantly going against EU law, French law and public opinion, bringing that genocidal nutter into France for a meal, when his country is starving to death.
2) Robert Mugabe : Above said nutter. For a few years now, he has conducted a campaign of intimidation against his country's judges, journalists, political opponents and white farmers.
3) CNN : They promised a complete transcript of Dr. Hans Blix's report, but managed to omit completely, over 850 words. The very words Blix used to utterly discredit Colin Powell's mendacious claims. As a public service, here is CNN's transcript. Here is the full version, courtesy of the BBC.
4) George Dubya Bush : For refusing to even consider the weight of world opinion, both foreign and domestic, Dubya earns a nomination this week.
Drum roll please And the winner is...
GEORGE WALKER "TEXAS RANGER" BUSH!
Sadly, Dubya can't be here tonight to accept his award. Possibly he's blocked in the White House by millions of voters. Who can tell?
When a Prez looked out his window all those years ago, and saw anti-war protesters stretching out to the horizon, he knew the Vietnam war was over. But George is not one to be swayed by such paltry numbers as a few million protesters on his doorstep.
Tonight, after 6 long years, the final episode of StarGate SG1 aired. Well, I say "last", but the show has been renewed for a season 7. I say "last", because this episode was written/conceived as a final episode for the series.
I suppose, it's good that season 7 is going to be made, because this episode was crap. Much as I love seeing Dr. Jackson back, he was criminally underused, and utterly inconsistant. His shoddy treatment of Sam has destroyed any faith I ever had that those two crazy geeks would get it together. It may have even convinced me that ol Danny is gay.
The Anubis threat gets escalated to nutty levels, with a deus ex machina up for grabs, with no build up or impending doom over the last few weeks/months. When they could have been forshadowing great things, we got filler episodes, dream episodes, episodes which did NOTHING for the plot, but did placate the ego's of the actors (who can't act), thinking they can WRITE. (I'm not naming names, but you know who you are CJ.)
For someone like me, plotline, continuity, are oh so important to a good story. This was just FX, FX, exposition, discontinuity, bad plotting, poor characterisation, and more FX. It also contained a totally lame Anubis explanation, and at least 1 plot revelation we ALL SAW COMING, but some of us were hoping we'd be wrong.
Sadly, if this is a taste of things to come, I'm just sorry they're making a season 7 at all.
It wasn't ALL bad. Jonas Quinn has totally kicked "Parker Lewis Can't Loose" and "Harold Emery Lauder" out of my head completely Congrats to the actor, he has REALLY made the character his own. I had my reservations when he joined the cast, but the guy has really pulled it off.
I just heard/saw the song/video for a track that has left me goggle eyed. "The Cheeky Girls" sing "The Bum Song" (aka "The Cheeky Song.")
I'm not making this up, I swear.
Twin sisters. In hot pants.
HOT Twin sisters. In HOT pants.
How the hell can this NOT be sexy? I swear, it's just so god-damn awful I actually wanted to PAY my TV License, if only they'd promise me to never show something this bad ever again.
How could something that looks so good on paper, turn out to be so soul-destroyingly horrible? England, what the hell were you thinking? More than 200,000 copies sold??
I know in a country that gave us The Spice Girls, artistic merit and the ability to sing aren't a requirement. But GOD DAMN, ENGLAND! Not since Mr. Blobby have you sunk so low.
You should all take two aspirin, England, and see me in the morning. Jesus wept.
Something struck me while watching yet another episode of GN's show. He used to have some seriously funny shows. Lately, they've all been a bit shit really. Tonight I think, just took the soggy biscuit, as far as I was concerned.
His show has become little more than a smutty Wogan (that Irish tit who used to be a popular UK chat show host in the 80's) complete with knee-cap touching and everything.
The shows used to be varied and original and funny. Now it's formulaic.
He comes on at the start, and does a 3 minute monologue, like so many US talk show hosts. He does an unfunny comedy sketch, loaded with puns to introduce the guest.
And as for the guests! He used to have washed up campy stars of yesteryear, and politely mock them for our benefit. Lindsey Wagner, Linda Carter, Joan Collins, etc... people who hadn't been on TV in DECADES.
Now he has people who have a product to sell, and soon. Book/Album whatever.
He gives the guest the requesite two minutes of plug, shows off a naughty photo or item, and then goes into "audience play" mode.
Again, the audiences used to make insane and embarressing confessions on that show. "I once wanked off a dog by mistake." Now it's just implausible "I WANT TO BE ON TV" shite.
Why do I even bother? I guess because when he does hit the mark, he's way funnier than most. Like where he took the urn that said "Michael Douglas" and thought "Is he dead?" tasted the ash, and said "No, just a sperm sample."
If my brother ever gets me tickets to the show, (and why not, he's gotten everything else he ever wanted. I'm not bitter) I will post details here.
For the first time in a long time, I had a bit of good news the other day. My brother, the one with the talent, brains, good looks, atheletic fitness, footballing skill, and live in girl friend has now beaten me to yet another punch, and got himself a JOB.
We've both been out of work for a while, but now he'll be living and working in Amsterdam, Holland. With large sums of money, flights home or to his apartment in London whenever he wants, and legal access to drugs, prostitutes and some of the best porn this side of the Gates of Hell.
So why is this good news? Because now I can sponge off of him. Obviously.
A harrowing recap of the lost weekend
Those who know me best, know I have an almost inhuman capcity for drink. Many times over the years I've drunk so much that I scared other people. Last weekend was the first time I scared myself.
The groom-to-be on this particular Stag was complaining that the cocktails were not getting him drunk quite quickly enough. So I showed him how it was possible to drink two at the one time. (This enabled me to drink the entire menu in a little under 2 hours.) But J was not happy with the mixing, so as a last resort, I asked the barman if he could make a cocktail that wasn't on the menu.
The very kind barman, who I now suspect was Satan in disguise, readily agreed.
Way back in the day, I invented a cocktail. I made a batch of it once while on holiday with friends. It became famous because it contained only spirits, and a teaspoon of a secret ingrediant. And yet it had no taste. You could drink it like water. This was not recommended by me, though. My friends refused to heed my warnings, knocked back a glass each and got smashed. One friend, W, was cut short mid sentence and passed out. Two hours later he came too, and completed the sentence.
This was a seriously powerful cocktail.
The barman last weekend didn't have all the relevant ingrediants, so I improvised a few changes with what he had to hand, and brought one over the Stag. J liked it a lot. A few sips by others at the table, and eventually, everyone wanted one.
Except J. He wanted 3. And never one to back down from a challenge, so did I.
Now, let me put this in some perspective. Just 1 of these drinks had a friend up at 4:30, shaking and puking. 1 was more than enough for everyone else at the table.
So aside from drinking cocktails all night, and completing the menu, I had 3 of the most powerful cocktails I've ever encountered. As did J.
I don't know what's scarier. The fact that I didn't have a hangover the following morning (though I looked like I was three days dead and large amounts of my hair has gone grey) or just how easily I could have done myself some serious bodily harm. As it is, I've busted my leg pretty badly. I attempted to body charge H while walking back to our resting place, and he sidestepped me at the last second. My full speed leap into the air continued until I was abruptly stopped by the ground.
My nose was bashed, my left hand cut to bits and my knee is a horrible colour with lots of blood and very little skin.
As I lay there on the ground, reflecting what a sillything that was, my friends very kindly laughed a lot, before lifting me up off the ground.
Completely numb to the pain, I walked the rest of the way back, giving the old "you're the best, mate" speech to W. Which even though drunk, I meant. W is a prince among men and I feel privilaged to know him.
On the plus side, the cocktail proved so incredibly popular with folks, that the barman has agreed to add it to the menu. I named it after the Stag, so he now has a killer drink named after himself. That's a nice gift, don'tcha think? I recommended the bar do not list the ingrediants, and claim it's "confidential" ala Flaming Homer. That should intrigue people into trying it.
Welfare 3 : The Search for Employment
I had an interview today for a company that I would normally find horridly abhorrant. No, not as bad as faith healers and the like. This one is involved in a Lottery program. Now having studied mathematics, I know that Lottery's prey on those who can't do basic math. And while it's possible to make a fortune out of human stupidity, I think there's an ethical problem in doing so. People who insist on playing the lottery should be rounded up and put in homes, where they can receive care and attention and not be a danger to the progress of society.
Mil Millington is a funny old sod, who happens to be living with an evil german woman he's unfortunately in love with.
Humans, eh?
His latest entry (at the bottom of the page) contains a reference to the Buffy DVD in an amusing context. Obviously this guy has never spent time on the Buffy BB arguing the finer points with Mike.
So it's Valantines day, (GMT) as of some minutes ago. And for those, like me, who'll be sleeping alone tonight, it's a royal pain in the ass.
In my case, slighty more royal than most. A friend of mine has chosen today, of all days, to begin his STAG DAY/weekend. Well, I say "friend" but he's more of an accquaintance really. Truth to tell, I don't think he likes me a whole lot, but we're part of the same circle of friends and he's too nice a guy to say anything.
So he's going to leave his perfectly lovely and totally sexy fiancee, to go boozing up with some mates down in Robertswood. I have to, at this point, question the mans sanity.
Not that I have any objections to Stag do's at all. In one way, it might even make sense for US (not him). After all, what female in a happy relationship will be out in the pub on Valentines night? Oh, I think the pubs and clubs will have either couples, or lonely desperate women in them. And I know which type these guys are loooking for.
Not me of course. I have my eye on someone else, who sadly won't be accompanying us, because she's away out of the country at the moment. How do I stay faithful to a woman who's miles away? I get too drunk to function sexually. That usually works. After all, when I've had THAT much to drink, I'm a lot less charming. posted by Manchild at 12:49 AM
Yesterday was a day pretty much devoted entirely to my Dad. He's the guy who most shaped me into the man I am today. We've disagreed a lot and fought over the years, but I love him very much. And he has cancer.
So yesterday, I went with him to the hospital, which is a bit of a journey away from where we live. He wanted to time the route as he had an actual appointment there today and he didn't want to be late.
After we had spent 90 minutes getting there, we went back to the pub for a few drinks and a talk. It's funny how most of the things I talk to him about now, are things I never knew we had in common as little as a year ago. Politics, history, our country, and so on. When I think about how much he's shaped me in other ways, I had to wonder. Did he shape me in such a way that I formed the same conclusions he did, because I'm just a mini version of him? Or did he just raise me to think independently for myself, not to shy away from uncomfortable truths, not to be a slave to authority?
I'd like to think the latter, but I can't say for certain.
The best indication might be in respect to religion. He never went to services when I was a child, and made no bones about it. As I got older, he always explained where his position on the "god" thing was. But being married to my mother, he also taught me to respect the beliefs of others.
Me, I was a devout believer from around age 12, because of an "experience" I had had. Even more so at 16 because of another.
Then, as I grew older again, I learned some things about the human mind and realised there was a far more prosaic explanation for my experiences.
I lost my faith in my twenties, around the same time as my Dad did (when he was growing up.)
And now with him reaching the end of his own life, I look at him and I wonder, is that me? Will I grow up to be that guy?
There are worse things in the world. I just hope if I ever have kids, I don't have one that was as much of a handful of trouble as me. posted by Manchild at 12:43 AM
So I was dreaming last night, weird dreams as usual. I'm at the dentist (haven't been in about a month) and he's telling me he's got to do some serious work or something... and he gives me a small white pill which looks like it's been soaked in alchohol or ethanol or something. And I take it, before he starts prodding me with needles. And I get really fuzzy headed all of a sudden, like this is some SERIOUS drug. And he's saying like "Count backwards with me..." "Walk through it with me" etc... and I'm trying to do that, but it's really fuzzy and then the needles start. And it's always a strange sensation when your mouth is being poked and prodded a lot, but in this case, I woke up at that point.
So for a few minutes, I'm lying there in the sack, tongue lolling out of my beer-dry mouth, and I'm thinking WOW those drugs are good.
But it's been a few hours now, so either I'm having the flashback trip of a lifetime, or 'twas all just a dream.
So I get up anyway, and as always, hit the .net and see what's the what with today. One of the first things that greets me is Holz's welcome.
It made me feel like John Negroponte on his first day as UN Ambassador. Big welcome, but careful you don't bring the whole system crashing down.
However, like Mr. Negroponte, I shall ignore all sage advice. And if anything untoward should happen, like say, World War 3, rest assured I'll blame it on the French.
ASSHOLE OF THE DAY AWARD Well, the running was tight, this week. Between Michael "No-Nose" Jackson, that monochromatic abuser of youth, and various political figures at home and abroad, but let's face it, there can only be one winner....
The nominations are :
1) Michael Jackson (for his convincing portrayal of an alien)
2) Michael Martin (Speaker for the House of Parliament) a late entry, but well deserved for kicking out the longest serving MP (Tam Dalyell) who foolishly tried to raise some questions about Tony Blair deceiving Parliament and the entire UK, as well as the United Nations, in a determined effort to start a war.
3) NASA Management (various) for snidely attempting to find ANY other reason (meteorites, aliens, Iraq etc...) for why the shuttle blew up, which doesn't leave the blame square with them and their el-cheapo mission productions.
4) George W. Bush, and Tony Blair (joint nomination) for their standing alone together last night, against the world wide drive for peace.
Drum roll please... And the winner is George W. Bush and Tony Blair!
Congratulations George and Tony. I'm sure your families are very proud.
Yes, they win today's prestigious award for their staunch refusal to consider a peace plan put forward by France and Germany and backed by Russia and China.
The plan involves a huge step-up in weapons inspections - backed by United Nations troops with French and US air patrols. It would essentially involve a UN takeover of Iraq on a temporary basis, with UN troops guaranteeing the inspectors could go anywhere, drill anywhere, etc... but this way no bombs would be dropped, no innocents would be killed, and no reparations would be necessary. So the US wouldn't have to seize control of the oil fields to help pay for "rebuilding" etc...
When Mr Bush found out that this peace plan would NOT involve the US gaining control of the oil he went a little ga-ga and even warned the very existence of the UN was at risk.
He said: "The United Nations gets to decide shortly whether or not it is going to be relevant in terms of keeping the peace, whether or not its words mean anything."
At present there are just over 100 inspectors in Iraq. The plan is to triple that total and fly thousands of UN troops into Iraq to support them.
French Mirage 4 military jets would be brought in to over-fly sensitive areas. Iraq has also recently permitted the flyovers of American U2 reconnaissance aircraft.
And for those who think inspectors are a crock, just remember that the first Gulf War elimated just 11% of Iraq's weapons. The inspectors, over the following years, eliminated over 80%.
Well, I finally succumbed to the temptation after seeing all those other people I admire so much with blogs of their own (Eleni, Holz, Mike and Wil) and said "Fuck it anyway! I'm just as loudmouthed as any of them! I want a blog! I deserve a blog!"
And by crikey, I got one.
There were a few teething problems. There always are when I try to impose my will on the universe at large. But I found a way.
I use Opera, the web browser of choice for smart people everywhere. And yet there are still sites (like blogger) who seem to think "standards" are just for other people. So Bloggers non standard website wouldn't let me edit a page with Opera. Apparently, the good folks at Blogger are aware of this, they just don't give a flying monkey fuck.
Well, I also tried accessing it with the slightly pissy IE 5.5, which is as far as I'll let my OS get to with that bloatware. And that didn't work either.
So I was left with downloading the Netscape 7 Bloatware extraordinaire. Which even on my cable modem, took SOME TIME, and when installing, managed to fuck up Opera which was downloading Tatu's lesbian chic video. (Just so I could see what all the fuss was about you understand. :) )
Thursday, February 27, 2003
