I'm starting a new club, like the masons, or the illuminati, or the gnomes of zurich, or skull and bones, or MENSA, but cooler and not full of idiots.

I have noticed a new network of sites aimed at the politically correct modern man who listens almost exclusively to his social conscience and lets his acute sense cultural sensitivity guide his daily use of the internet.

If you are one such as this, I invite you to join our fraternity of the enlightened.

We Embrace Religious Tolerance

We are totally unbiased

We embrace all spiritual systems

We draw our opinions from many Global News sources

Animal Rights are important too!

Most of all, we respect the law

Menu Planning for the Rich and Politically Motivated

Please join Pamela Anderson, Sir Paul McCartney, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, The Rev. Al Sharpton, and countless other kind people worldwide by not eating at KFC.

I found this on the Peta website about kfc, www.kentuckyfriedcruelty.com.

So, these celebs wont eat KFC hey? I got to wondering why and upon reflection I suspect it might have less to do with cruelty concerns and more to do with good taste.
In support of this, I give you an alternative menu for these celebs that might be more reflective of their true diet.

• Sir Paul McCartney - Roast Swan with truffled kipfler potatoes and Mille-Feuille of grilled asparagus and quail livers.

• Dalai Lama - Rice, cold and brown and three days old and begged from a begger who begged it from another begger.

• Rev Al Sharpton - Mcdonalds (hey, he owns shares so you cant blame him)

• Pamela Anderson - Human Growth hormones and blonde virgin's blood.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life

Yesterday, a Negro man in a piece of junk car pulled a quick lane change in front of me and nearly killed me. I swerved into the other lane which luckily was empty so other than spiking my hear rate, no harm was done. I was angry and in my anger I immediately knew him...straight from the streets of Harari, not used to our traffic, a refugee (probably of dubious origin here to make a quick buck at my social expense).
Snap, I had him in a moment. I blame Conan Doyle, I spent way too much time on that stuff as a child. Whatever the excuse for my stereotyping, a few hours later, I cut a guy off at a roundabout and he had to brake hard in the wet so he didnt hit my truck. Apparently it turns out I'm faulty too, and I wonder, what did he think of me?

I'm given to wonder sometimes at how faulty we are. Everyone suffers daily from hundreds of cognitive failures, unreasonable biases, a blindness of the past, an unfounded rosy outlook for the future. We are all immortal and we are all infallible and everybody else is ignorant and wrong.
We characterize those around us, neatly pigeon holing them into bands of friend or foe based on their skin colour, driving habits, the music they listen to, the hat they wear. Once you realise that, the world makes a lot more sense. A friend of mine says 'never attribute to malice that which can be explained by incompetence' it's really very true. I don't know if he's quoting someone, and even if he did, my inherent source blindness makes it irrelevant in any case.
How then should we live with this knowledge? How can you design a traffic system, a web page, a government beurocracy that takes account of our universal ability to fail? As a collective we lurch through the universe leaving a trail of destruction behind us, broken people, economies and ecosystems - all of this the result of our inherent human flaws. The sum of our flaws is the system. We are defined by our errors, our ommissions and our deliberate attempts to undermine each other. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Airport restrooms

Airports jangle the nerves at the best of times so why is it that every damned airport corporation seems to have somebody dedicated to the task of finding creative ways to make it worse. It's no wonder frequent flyers turn to drink. In the Melbourne domestic terminal they have even taken the step of installing vidscreens and speakers in the handryers with the entirely predictable result that people now avoid drying their hands lest the be visually assaulted with some idiotic government propoganda. To the legion of marketing guru's out there who think this and other similarly invasive ad techniques are a good idea I have a request, give us a fucking break. We are just trying to get to our next destination and we don't want to hear about your product as the price we have to pay for taking a piss. While I'm on the subject, to the toilet attendents in Dubai, you guys do realise that one of your KPI's is actually getting the sewerage out of the building, not flooding the building with it? Just a heads up there...

The Economy of Ideas

The economy of ideas
My father, for all his guilt ridden apostate baptist ways his heavy drinking and propensity towards violent bursts of temper, taught me to read by the time I was three. I can still remember sitting on his knee reading him 'golden books' when he got home from his job as copywriter for Mckinnies department store.
He paid me off in small coins, but the coins were just a token of his approval. Read, and you are loved. We had a retired schoolteacher who came to our school every week, she wore a fur stole. I learnt from her, that I could be loved for other things as well. She taught me to say Europa, and showed me maps of the world and I began to be loved for expressing my own ideas rather than just repeating the ideas of others. And, the fool I was, I bought the whole damned lie.

Well fuck those guys, nobody gives a damn about what I think, and WHY? WHY? cause the Internet has diluted the pool of human thought to the point where its all just a great big bucket of gray homogenized slop. I hate the damned lot of it. It's just too easy to write, to be published, to be seen. It approaches the point where you start to wonder, why would I bother. No fucker is going to love me because I write.
No fucker is ever even going to read what I fucking write cause we are all too fucking busy writing to read anything.
So no-one pays for writing, and no one reads, but for some reason the number of pages of text on the Internet just keeps growing every day by millions and millions and millions. My god, its a content machine, pouring out syrupy corporate Haikus into a world that doesn't care.
Turn that fucking wheel you arseholes, the machine must have blood.

Seneca put the number of volumes in the Alexandria library at 40 000, that was the sum total of ancient wisdom, hard fought and hand written and maintained by an army of scribes for centuries, being recopied plagiarised and redistributed to form the foundation of many medieval libraries in later times. Now, when I search for 'Gay Bestiality' in Google I come up with over 1.4 million pages. Hey Internet, go fuck yourself. You are broken, you don't fucking work.

The library at Alexandria was more efficient, even with 500 scribes.