On Days Like These

1 11 2009

On days like these we try hard to find an opening line to the rest of our lives. On days like these we think, like any other day, but nothing becomes any the clearer. On days like these we can’t sit back and wait for life to come to us. On days like these we must embrace what life has given us and try harder to take whatever more we can from that same life. On days like these we look around us and see the world through the same eyes as on days like any other, only we know we see what we dare not to admit. And we see. On days like these the word must not be waited upon. Neither must the world be forced to wait on us. On days like these we must engage what we know to be true and act with honour and dignity to fulfil what days like these can only offer us when we have the courage to see days like these for what they are.

 They are days like any other.

 Every day is a day like this.





There is Beauty in Truth….

1 10 2009

….but the truth isn’t always beautiful.

More to follow.





The Lisbon Treaty

26 09 2009

If I had a gun, and a kitten, and Declan Ganley, Coir, Youth Defence or Sinn Fein advised me to not shoot the kitten, I’d probably shoot the kitten.

And thats all I have to say about that.





Make a Wish

31 08 2009

If I had one wish, I know what I would wish for.

I would wish to be ignorant, because ignorance is bliss.

I wouldn’t care about corruption in politics, because politics would go over my head. I wouldn’t vote because I would think that my vote doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t care about having to wait for a day in A&E with a broken chair stuck in my head because sure that’s what everyone has to do. I wouldn’t be bothered about the people lying in stretchers in corridors because they are not related to me.

I would assume that people in power are there because they know what they are doing, and the know what they are doing because they are there.

I would go to mass every week and give my money into the basket, not making the connection between what I’m giving and the fact that it is being used to indemnify paedophiles and even if I did make the connection, I would suppress it and forgive them for they have repented and even if they didn’t sure its nothing to do with me.

I wouldn’t care about the banking crisis because as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t affect me. I wouldn’t have any money in the bank anyway because I spent every weekend in the pub with my spouse, having dinner in the Jasmine and Sunday lunch in Russell’s and it didn’t matter if we woke up broke on Monday because there was always another pay packet next week and the credit card will take care of things until then.

Murder in the Middle East would be interesting on the telly but would get ignored when it suited me. Big Brother would be more like it. Nice thoughtless brain barbituate to while away the idle evenings untill I can take my two weeks in Santa Ponsa to snap my fingers at Manuel for another bottle of Bud to drink in the scorching midday sun while my skin burns. Lets see Mary Harney ban that I probably wouldn’t think to myself, as the locals close their shutters for siesta.

NAMA? Well, the Sun doesn’t really write much about it so I wouldn’t know.

You see, life can be fine for those who don’t know. Sometimes its nice to wonder what it might be like to not only just not know, but to have no interest in knowing.

Makes you think.

Or not.





Ouch

29 04 2009

Day two in the gym and everywhere hurts.

I touch my arm…. Ouch… My legs… ouch…

Even my shoulders and back and stomach… ouch ouch ouch.

Turns out I bruised my finger.





One Month Today

27 04 2009

One month ago today I smoked the last cigarette I had. One month today. On Saturday I started developing a cough. I thought I was getting a cold. Nope.

For the last two days I’ve been hacking up tar. No joking. Its disgusting and tastes like what you’d imagine tar being hacked up out of your lungs would taste like. That’s the best way I can put it. Still though, I’m rather proud. I’ve been a smoker for nigh on seventeen years and now I’ve made the first real stab at kicking them to the kerb so I’m happy about that despite the hacking and the choking, and to celebrate I’ve decided to go back to the gym tomorrow. I’ve made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon to talk to one of the trainers about getting a moobasectomy and a beerbellyoffame.

I’ll report back if I come out the other side. Although, when I’m beautiful I may not have to write here because real people will like me, so be nice to me now, before I have you forgotten.





Woe betide thyne Scumbags

23 04 2009

Having nothing better to do these days due to the failing economy, I visited my good old parents for a cup of tea this morning. My mother is a very unique woman. Advancing in years, yet very healthy and by looking at her you can tell she makes an effort to keep herself well.  She eats well, gets out as much as she can, doing this and that as they do and regales me with all the inside stories on whats going on around the place. My father reads the paper and grunts at me. The silver-back of the family, so to speak.

Near where they live there are flats recently vacated under the buy fancy jeeps and paint regeneration on them scheme. Since they have been vacated they have become the usual target for all the usual sorts of shite that scumbags do to amuse themselves.  Last night, they went up on fire. (The flats, not the scumbags, unfortunately). A few weeks ago they were vandalised so the local council who claim to not have the money to demolish them put big railings around them. So, the scangers across the way stole a JCB, used it to tear down the railings and burnt the JCB before coming back to light up the flats when the fire brigade didn’t show to quench the machinery. They lit up the flats so they could molest the fire crew that arrived to put them out.  As soon as the engines came around the corner stones and bottles went flying at them. When they got out of the engines they found that the water main had been deliberately tampered with so they had to sit and wait and watch the flats burn while dodging missiles to wait for a tanker full of water to arrive.

Six engines (one draughted in from Ennis) and a water tanker. A massive yoke, so it was.

It would have cost less to knock the flats than to answer that emergency call. I’m sure of it.

These were not kids. These were pricks in their twenties with nothing better to do than harass a bunch of brave and hard working fire fighters out trying to make the scumbags in question shitty little lives safer. It galls me to think that, should any of these wankers become trapped or the victim of their own misadventures, they would fully expect these same men to come to their rescue, and come they would regardless.

A better man than me once suggested a pretty sure fire way to sort out a lot of these problems, and he in now way suggested the punishment of stupidity, rather, lets take the warning labels off of everything. Let the problem sort itself out. If they are out breeding us then surely we can educate our children to realise themselves that they shouldn’t use hairdryers in the bath, or whatever.

Just a suggestion.

Chew on it for a while and let me know what you think.

Limerick is now over run by scum, and there is nothing we can do about it. For my own part, I’ve given up despairing. I’m actually intrigued at this point and I’ll tell you why. The time is fast approaching when the government are going to run out of dole money. At the very least they will have to cut it significantly. Its only a mater of time before the whole scumbag culture implodes in on itself under the weight of a billion hoop earrings and dirty Nike Air Max.

I’m popping my corn and pulling up a ringside seat for these end times, or the Rapidture, as I’m going to call it. The four piebald horsemen of the Epoxy-clips will be bombed out of their heads on resin, and wont know whats going on. Then some lad with long hair will appear asking about Mount Olive and get the head digged off him by Olive’s brother and because he looks like a Muppet. Then there shall be a great tribulation, and Declin shall have lost sight of the bag of yokes he placed under the wheely bin only the night before, and verily, Tony shall smite his brethren who spake unto the social welfare of his cohabitation in his concubine’s council house.

A fitting end to a dramatic chapter, I feel.





The Joys of Parenthood, Vol 1

19 04 2009

This used to be the subwoofer from my home cinema system.

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Now its a handy storage box for megablocks and the likes.

At least its not going to waste I suppose.





Your grandfather knew better

1 04 2009

In other news, the recession can go fuck itself.

I’m sick of hearing about it. Every morning I turn on the radio in the car. Doom this. Gloom that. Woe betide us all for the taxman cometh and he taketh thine kidneys and deposit thee in a bath full of ice with a brief note outlining why you are there and a mobile for you to call an ambulance.

But wait a minute, I’m fucking poor anyway, and the more I think about it, the more I realise I’ll be devastated about having to miss all those nights out I never had in the first place. Not to mention all the holidays I didn’t go on and the swanky car, hefty mortgage and the coke habit I could never afford to begin with. I’ll sure be missing all those high class society parties I was never invited to and as for the fur coat collection I don’t have, like the peacocks that don’t live in the grounds that don’t surround the stately home I don’t live in, I guess not having it will mean I wont have to be gutted about the lot of it getting taken off me because of the recession. Me, you and most of the rest of us will have to make a few minor adjustments to settle back into a life less complicated by multiple credit cards, over draughts, whopping great mortgages on overpriced shoe boxes next door to someone the health board gave the house to for free and this insane competition to out bling our equally vapid and nouveaux pretentious neighbours.

I think the biggest problem we have to face is the fear we don’t know why we are feeling. Stop for a second. Take a deep breath, breath in some perspective. We are all borne from a very, very long line of very successful ancestors who we know all lived long enough to rear our more recent ancestors and that every one of them got the ride at least once in their lives, no doubt an epic success in itself in a time before dentists.

Now think about it.

You, your parents, your grand parents, their grand parents, their great great great grand parents before them. Your relatives who stayed put and had the wherewithal to get themselves through the famine, by hook or by crook. Your late relations who, generation after generation outsmarted the foreign armies and plagues that came to take those who would have no descendants. The people who bore your genes about the time Brian Boru was giving the vikings the jabs. The people who bore my genes about the time the pyramids were being built and before, and further back, a hundred thousand millenia ago there were creatures alive that went about their daily grind carrying the genes that their descendants would one day use to produce you and me, here today, geared up with all the smarts that got them all to where you are now.

And now the newspapers would have you believe that all that is going to fall apart because a few crooks raided the treasury.

OH NOES!!!

Come hell or high water we will survive by calling on the rights we have all inherited through the toll of the billion deaths that our lineage outsmarted. The radio and the papers can have their recession. They can keep their gloom.

I’m off down to the shop to buy an icepop.

Who wants one?





Quitters Inc.

30 03 2009

I finished my last pack of Benson & Hedges on Friday evening. I was having a beer at home and stepped outside the back doors to draw in the last of the sweet, sweet nicotine that I had in my possession.

Now, you can call me unpatriotic if you like but for some time now I have believed the price of a pack has been somewhat excessive, so I figured out a bit of a workaround for that one. I’m over and back to Italy a fair bit. Fags are cheap in Italy. The in laws visit us regularly too. So, legally, we have a quota which we don’t exceed which happens to keep me in smokeroos without ever having to go to the shop. The thing is, my latest delivery didn’t work out. So I’ve decided its a sign and as far as I’m concerned I finished my last fag on Friday evening. I generally don’t smoke over the weekend unless I’m in the pub, which I was for the match on Saturday but only for the one pint so I didn’t really notice any cravings or anything. Today will be the acid test.

I am stocked up with biscuits and Taytos, (not crisps mind you, but proper Tayto Cheese and Onion),  a pack of Baiocchi, a Muller fruit corner, a flask of Illy Coffey and a pocket full of change for refills. I realise that its only going to last a few days and if I can get to the end of this week I will have the hard work done. Hell, I’m already on day three technically speaking, but its always best to start new things on a Monday, so here it goes.

Wish me luck.

Christ, I’m starving…..