This, too

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Lloyd George Fuck Off

I am losing touch, maybe, and it is hard to do anything, here, even to get lost. I mean, in as much as that I've seen everything but the door. Or I don't like the doormen. Or I don't understand the dress code. Or I've over extended this crappy opening thought.

Bjork's on the telly. Aw.

I keep on looking around and seeing stuff, and thinking that I don't deserve any of this shit. Why the pissing hell do I have a DVD player? How does that make the world a better place? Some dick made a few quid that he spent on something he didn't need, either. Woo hoo. I might sell it, and the rest, buy a plane ticket, pick up a few dozen assault rifles on a Somali market, and hand them out in some unsuspecting corner of the third world. That might be fun, eh? Nothing like another introspective revolution to change fuck all, but it makes as much sense as asking for some DVDs come my birthday.

Now I've reminded myself of how much I've been annoyed by the powers that bes, lately. And the powers that would like to bes. I should create context by mentioning international moves to ban small arms sales to conflict zones and rebel groups and what not. It's entirely a good thing, apparently, and there can be no disputing that, I'm told, because AK47s are killing a lot of people, and our next budget isn't any fatter as a result. Well, it will help maintain the status quo when BAe Hawk jets come screeching in on said rebels, I suppose. While they're being blown-up, people will be glad that nobody got hurt.
Only authorities sanctioned by the entirely arbitrary be-all and end-all process of a yes/no or A/B referenda once every few years may wield powers of life and death over people to whom they would otherwise have absolutely fuck all relation. Seriously, look, we know, it's a shame, you were born in what used to be the 3rd (none-aligned) world during a fabricated stand-off that kept a number of authorities in place in the 1st and 2nd worlds a generation ago, and your world was fucked to death in the defence of that status quo, but really, we're thinking about maybe giving you a few billion quid to share out between nine hundred million of you over a few decades, so, in the meantime, could you please stop defending yourself, darkie? I mean, oh, shit.

Some days, they push me ever so close. It's lucky I've a hole in the heel of this sock, or I'd be taking charge for a bit, you know.

My brother's friend didn't want to come over to wait, I'm told, because he'd be scared if no one else was here (besides me). I thought about answering the door in something of a casually-armed state, but then I got distracted by the kettle and another Israeli-American attempt to destroy the world, and that was that.

The title has nothing to do with the content. I thought I might put it on a T-shirt, though. Maybe that disclaimer could go on the back, too.

Okay, feck it, again, I was about ready to collapse owing to another failure to sleep, but as four days passed as one, I've decided to get at least ten minutes' use out of them in binning some more things that I don't like. Eventually, it will all be gone, and then I'll get together those pennies and go th...erm...which way...

Then I'll die, because I don't know how to look after myself or my socks.

[Aw, Pix!]

1:42 p.m. - 2005-03-16

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