Treponema Pallidum

 

Oh, night of bliss! The night we kissed,
I thought that I had died,
And though you gave me syphilis,
I don’t really mind.

Child Fighting Man

Me as a young boy: cute but easily-defeated

On Children #1:
Have you ever wondered how many children you could beat up?

I could probably beat up a hundred kids, but that’s just a guess. I’ve never fought a large number of children so I don’t actually know. Still, one hundred seems like a fair amount. Maybe I could punch one or two more in the belly because I am a pretty strong guy.

But even I have to accept my limitations – after a while I’d get tired and bored. There are only so many toddlers I could “wail on” before their sobbing started to make me cranky. Then I’d probably wander off to get an double espresso and a croissant with jam.

Some of you probably think that a well-organised platoon of 8-year-olds would defeat me. Fair enough. I could easily be lured into some kind of trap. Then, tied-up and hanging by my ankles, I would make an excellent piñata, as my pockets are generally full of chocolate. But ask yourself: when was the last time you saw a well-organised platoon of 8-year-olds?

The reality is that children just don’t make an effective fighting force. They are flabby and distractible and their grasp of basic battlefield tactics is rudimentary at best. I don’t want to be mean but let’s face facts – children are cowards. Most kids are as yellow as a bowl of frightened custard, and twice as squishy. They have no stomach for a fight.

It’s unlikely that I’ll ever be encircled by a large gang of hostile toddlers. But if they do manage to sneak up on me, I won’t panic. Because I’ll know that behind all the threats and improvised karate is a small child – a small child that is one swift kick away from peeing its pants in sheer terror.

Listen. I’m not some deluded madman. I’m a reasonable guy. I vote for mainstream political parties and hold socially acceptable views on a wide range of contemporary issues. I can brush my teeth  just like a normal person – one tooth at a time. And I’m not suggesting that we should kill all the children in some kind of drug-fuelled frenzy of violence and gore. All I’m saying is that I could beat up a lot of kids.

New Years Revolution

If people were albums…

People Reviews #1:
“Paul” was the debut effort from The Bonds, released onto the unsuspecting English scene in 1986. The critics’ initial reaction to “Paul” was mixed at best. “Cute” said NME but Hotpress were harsher: “The lyrics are nothing but meaningless gibberish and radical communist slogans… all he does is sleep and shit himself.”
The recent trend for eighties nostalgia has created a resurgence of interest in “Paul” and the synthesizer-fetishist movement from which The Bonds drew influence. Certainly, this has brought many new fans. However, whether “Paul” retains the same sense of dreamy insouciance, which won a loyal following in the mid-nineties, remains to be seen.

**** (4/5)

Open letter to the internet

Muxtape

Adam made a mixtape just for you. Link

Haiku: Reynolds on Reynolds

Haiku #1

Say! Modern lad,
Drone madly as
Sad mold – Yearn!
By Rain Lollo 

 

Haiku #2

Dream on sadly,
Mad and sorely – 
As old randy me.
By Rain Lollo 

 

Haiku #3

Odd manslayer?
Led on sad army?
Er… only Saddam.
By Rain Lollo 

 

Haiku #4a

Dreams o’ Dylan
Adorn me sadly – 
Moral end days.
By Rain Lollo 

 

Haiku #4b

My sad Leonard
Drones, malady
man. Drôle days?
By Rain Lollo 

 

Haiku #5

Mad loner days.
Sly drama done
As old yam – NERD!
By Rain Lollo

Let There Be Rock On The Radio

From The Irish Times on Tuesday July 10th 2007:

Every day I am forced to rely on my MP3 player to hear decent music. I turn on any station and I hear drivel. All these modern artists sound the same.
I am sick of turning on the radio only to hear some pop princess trying to sing about the same thing that last week’s big new sensation was failing to sing about. I am clearly not a fan of “popular” or “normal” music.
I love heavy metal. I cannot live without it. But every day I am left out in the cold when it comes to seeking my kind of music on the radio. I am tired of hearing rappers talk about the same old thing: “I had a hard up-bringing”; “my parents had a terrible relationship”; or “I never knew my father.” Well, I don’t really care.
If I want to know your life story, I’ll buy your autobiography, otherwise keep it the hell away from me.
I have asked around and I am not alone – we need a metal station. Of course there will be the “in” crowd who will moan, saying “it’s all about killing yourself”, “it’s so depressing”, or the old favourite, “damn grungers”. Do you want to know what’s depressing? Hearing the same old filth on the radio every day. Westlife? Talentless bunch of wasters. Eminem? Don’t get me started. Face it Marshall, you’re not black, you never will be, get over yourself.
I personally hate rap. It’s only a person talking in rhyme. Where’s the skill in that, I ask you? Listen to a Dave Mustaine or a Kerry King guitar solo. There’s skill. Just because you listen to anything that isn’t considered “popular” by the social elite, you are a “grunger”. I for one hate grunge. It is a vent for people who have made a mess of their own lives but blame their parents because they are afraid to face up to the fact that it is their own fault.
I do have an immense grá for metal. This includes groups such as Slipknot, DevilDriver, Slayer, and Anthrax, to name but a few. I love metal because it is based on the purest and most basic human emotion, anger.
If you have had a really bad day, and let’s face it we all do at some point, there is nothing more relaxing than unleashing this pent-up rage. That is what metal is based on, releasing anger in a productive manner. When rappers get angry, they go out and have a “drive by” shooting at some poor random punter or they “slap” their “ho”.
So, let’s get this fine country of Ireland back on track and bring in a metal station. Lose the pop, dance and rap. Put down your rapper’s crack pipe, your DJ’s decks and your pop princess’s false idea of life, and take a real look at life. Life isn’t “all good”, things don’t always work out, get real, and get metalised.

Population Density

The total surface area of all the land on earth, including the poles, is 148,940,000 square kilometres. This number is shrinking.
The total population of all the peoples on earth, including the Poles, is 6,637,694,858. This number is rising.
Using the magic of division we arrive at an average population density of 44.57 people per square kilometre. (This figure ignores the fact that over half the dry surface of the earth is desert or otherwise uninhabitable.)
Dividing one square kilometre between 44.57 people gives each person 22,727.273 square metres to themselves. The square root of 22,727.273 metres is very close to 
150 metres.
In other words if the entire global population was spread out evenly, in rows and columns, you would be 150 metres away from 4 people and, using Pythagoras’ theorem, 212 metres away from another four people. That’s assuming you weren’t placed beside the coast.

Considering that over seven tenths of the earth’s surface is covered in water one can only conclude that the dolphins are on to something and I can’t shake the suspicion that they knew this would happen.

Twisted Sister Tongue Twister

Seven selfish shellfish sell shellfish.
Selfish shellfish shall sell shellfish.

Tongue twisters wrung sister’s tongue, mister.
Sister’s tongue’s twisted, mister.
Now she’s mute.

I wish is was good at something that would help me get laid like dancing or cunnilingus.