The White Isle

ibizaoldtownfrommarinaI never thought I’d ever visit Ibiza, especially considering that I haven’t visited the Mediterranean since my late teens and my only overseas trip in the last decade was a stag party in Germany.

So you can imagine my surprise at being invited on the annual work’s incentive trip – a VIP affair that invites our key business partners to join us for a weekend in exotic or luxurious locations.

Initially, I was cautious – I’m not a clubber, I may enjoy a variety of trance, psychedelic and even some dance music but I’m not a fan of hot, sweaty claustrophobia that a vibrant club environment has to offer.

alternateviewofoldtownThat being said, I have missed travelling and love to explore new areas; the idea of exploring the diverse areas of Ibiza’s Old Town was exciting enough to set aside any fears I had around an unfit, overweight forty-something bouncing around Space during its dying days.

As an aside, it’s only as I type this that I realise, as many men do throughout their lives, that I am slowly becoming my Father, who has kept holiday logs for as long as I can remember and travels frequently.

I hereby set out, in a disjointed and succinct attempt at paternal emulation, my own travelogue.

Being a “VIP” work related trip, the expense wasn’t really an issue.

Actually, money is always an issue but in this context I had to pay for very little out of my own pocket.

Accommodation, travel and sustenance were all covered and the (seemingly) meager €100 I brought in hard currency was largely sold back on my return home.

My biggest worry prior to the trip was clothing; Ibizan fashion allegedly centers on Boho Shabby Chic.

My only exposure to Shabby Chic is through my Sister, who used to buy old tat at auctions and do them up to sell on eBay as “Shabby Chic”.

I’m not the best dressed person on the planet, to be honest I’m not that conscious of my appearance – vanity seems a waste of effort to me – but hippy linens and arty T-shirts are something I can work with; overall I don’t think I let the side down.

The flight out was uneventful, albeit I was subject to a “berenger” whatever that is – I must have looked dodgy to them, even as I stood – arms akimbo and jeans falling down – awaiting for the results of some kind of swabbing.

I was only on the isle for 3 nights, staying at the Destino Pacha Ibiza Resort in a lovely little room designed to feel like a villa-cum-bedsit.

The resort was luxurious and full of beautiful people with more money than sense.  I only paid for a single drink through the whole weekend, and that was a €9 20cl soda water!

On the first day we relaxed at the pool, soaking up the sun and mojitos.

sapuntoOn the evening we dined at a waterside restaurant, Sa Punta, where we were offered an amazing mix of seafood, olives and antipasti.

The selection of food may have seemed limited but the dishes we were presented with were well balanced, flavourful and filling.

Once we had consumed our fill and midnight closed in, we moved onto Club Il Lio in the marina itself.

Now, I’m not a fan of clubs at the best of times but the cabaret in life before us was inviting…

I lasted maybe an hour, if that; offensive and officious security guards constantly moving us out of the way – our “VIP” tickets meaningless in a world of regular big spenders and overly flamboyant dress.

That was my only nightclub experience of the weekend, thankfully; we visited Pacha on Sunday and some of my colleagues had the pleasure of experiencing Basement Jaxx in the dying days of Space but I only ate at Pacha (succulent and satisfying sushi with a minuscule offering of wasabi).

Prior to the visit to Pacha on Sunday, I spent the day exploring Dalt Villa itself.

cathedralI wandered the old town, making my way up to the Cathedral that overlooks the bay and back down through the various boutiques and bars.

I completed my first overseas Ingress mission and discovered that the Pokémon native to Spain are different to those we find in the United Kingdom (Growlithe and Ekans).

This supplemented my morning walks across the bleak, desiccated clifftops surrounding the resort – where the odd lizard and dragonfly skittered away from concealed lovers enjoying the morning after the night before.

Overall my favourite day was Saturday.

bluemarlinWe visited Blue Marlin Beach Club and spent several hours being treated to a selection of edible and potable treats whilst dipping into the warm embrace of the Mediterranean.

I haven’t swum for around 11 years and its been longer since I enjoyed a dip in the sea.

It was during conversations with people on Saturday that I uncovered  a mysterious side to Ibiza.

I’d already reconciled Ibiza with the isle of the Lotus Eaters in my own mind…

I had no idea that Nostradamus had predicted Ibiza as being the only place to survive the coming Armageddon.

It’s hard to dispute the legends of Ibiza’s magic when I came away so relaxed and purified from what should have been a frantic and intoxicating visit – I wasn’t shy when it came to indulging in the food and drink on offer and yet felt no ill effects throughout the trip.

The meal that evening was a long drive away at a “hidden gem” named La Paloma; an illusive array of starters avoided my attention in the dark of the unlit outdoor dining whilst the darkness did little to prevent me from devouring a perfectly grilled steak.

destinopachaduskThe journey back on Monday was hard, not from any kind of lethargy or illness on my own part but the plane was full of casualties suffering from over-indulgence and weak constitutions.

The Ibizan border authorities had not made the same assumptions as their UK counterparts, and so I wasn’t stopped and swabbed for narcotics or incendiaries on the way back.

I was a little disappointed when passing through the depressingly bureaucratic passport control in Manchester – whatever happened to “Welcome back Mr. Sugden!”… miserable jobsworth.



Flicking the Switch

dodontswitchSince my recent birthday I’ve found my mind dwelling on more serious subjects than I’m used to discussing.

I’m not saying I’ve grown up and become all adult-like, I’m not sure that’s a realistic possibility at this late stage in development.

I do seem to find myself wallowing on subjects that are more suited to the kind of battlefields populated by Social Justice Warriors and Ley-Heroes.

These subjects are triggered by my proximity to toxic environments and escalated by an overactive care-gland.

Homophobia, Misogyny, Racism…


Ben Quixote – Equal of Heaven

None of these things affect me directly but they seem to spike a massive negative emotional response in my betazoid-center.


I encounter this kind of prejudice on a daily basis (to a greater or lesser degree), almost always it’s aimed at others but it riles me none-the-less.

Every time I face this kind of idiocy, the quixotic Hannuman inside of me rises and I face a primal choice:

Fight or Flight?

I’ve lost count of the number of battles I’ve lost but every now and then I win and the world within my reality tunnel gets that little bit lighter.

It’s not the losses that I’ve fought that weigh me down though; not every battle can be fought.

A friend recently posted that she had faced this kind of harassment in her workplace.

My friend’s boss had remarked upon his right to ogle the female form (ergo her own – specifically the breasticular area).

All my friend could do was rebuke the statement and attempt to put this man in his place.

The problem is, this man is in a position of power – he pays the wages, hires, fires and feels he can ogle away… and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.

I’ve seen it many times, a bigoted individual in a position of power lording over their underlings.

Whether it’s the lady manager who insists on forcing male staff members to watch as she injects insulin into her upper-inner thigh or the company Director who makes comments over the quality of an employee’s sister’s breasts over a team meal; this behaviour is wrong but unbeatable.

In all these cases the offended party is either under the minimum two year employment period that it takes to actually have employment rights in this country or they do not have the support structure in their lives to make fighting the battle worth the effort.

In the case of my friend and her tit-happy employer, I was pleased to see the support her friends and acquaintances gave to her.

Many folk offered suggestions of comedic or even violent responses – not helpful directly but sometimes you need this kind of feedback to help pull you out of the pit that this kind of encounter can knock you into.


And then somebody asked her a question, the answer to which made me stop and think, to paraphrase:

How do you work there without throwing someone from a window?

The answer my friend gave really struck home:

I have a little Give a Fuck switch in my brain which goes from “Do” to “Don’t”, and a proven response time in flicking it.

I know exactly what she means… I have the very same switch.

I’m fairly confident that without that switch I’d either be in prison, hospital or worse.

What strikes me me harder is that since reading that exchange I have encountered a number of other people, from different social circles, that have used the very same analogy.

We have that one switch in common that allows us to turn off, tune out and move on.

The difference lies in how quickly we flick the switch.

fucksgivenMany years ago I realised that my own problem is that I care too much.

I’ve had a couple of psychological evaluations over the years that have highlighted a deeply ingrained need to help others and an over reliance on stressful and often negative or toxic environments.

I think I recently developed some kind of “Givafuk Switch” to help me handle those aspects of my personality and I just haven’t noticed until reading the horrors of my friend’s working environment earlier this week.

The switch helps us survive.

It keeps us in a position where we can continue to accrue survival tokens whilst we regroup and plan a strategy to win the war.

The switch helps us choose the battles we fight, so we can pick the fights we know we can win and not waste energy on those battles that are clearly unwinnable.

I discussed this at length today, with friends and colleagues and the only sensible counterpoint made was regarding those that come after us.

The switch is great for those of us on the front line now but what about those that face the same foe later on.

We’ve avoided a fight by flipping the switch and retreating but the foe is under the misapprehension that they have won a battle that never happened.

The deluded foe could go onto the next victim and there is nothing to stop the situation escalating to a greater degree of harassment – we could even be that next victim.

So the switch can be a double edged sword – a sword that my inner Monkey King is willing to wield and one that I am glad to see in the hands of other people of worth.

As it is I’m going to continue to pick my battles and rely on a newfound switch-based psychopathy to avoid the problems that giving a damn brings with it and fight another day.

Character Building – Courage through Adversity

4141 years ago my Mother brought me into a world of tropical music, a Huddersfield born Prime Minster Prime Minster and Rocky Horror.

I’m assured that it is normal to have no memory of these early years.

I have a few vague memories of my early life…

The bedroom at Birkby, a toy Starship Enterprise that fired little disks and the weird open staircase at Golcar; these could well be dream memories for all I know.

Some of the memories that stand out are those that involve the bullies.

Whether it was my early nemesis, a chap called Davinder, pushing me around and convincing me that Dracula was going to visit me from Bunny Woods and drink my Caucasian blood (Davinder assured me that Dracula wasn’t interested in his Asian blood – apparently vampires only ate white folk’s children in the early eighties)… Or a group of 5 “friends” trying to pin me down and strip my clothing from me in the playing fields at high school (they didn’t try again – I have anger management issues)…

My life has been plagued with bullies and recently I have been reflecting on this fact.

Five years ago to this very day, I had a nervous breakdown due to bullying.

I doubt anyone noticed (except Mrs. Armaitus… she noticed and struggled in her own way to handle it). I tend to keep myself to myself when it comes to that kind of thing.

I didn’t seek professional help.  I just did what I normally do… I picked myself up and lay rage-fueled curses at the feet of the bullies before carrying on with my life.

I have an odd relationship with “stress”, psych evaluations have shown that I focus better when in a squeeze… a colleague of mine once labelled this as Stargate syndrome… as long as I have 45 minutes to come up with a solution before the world is eaten by Goa’uld then I’ll be fine.

apophisBut five years ago Apophis decided to stick his oar into one of the most stressful situations I’ve had to deal with and it was more than I could handle…

The bully won and I cracked.

Why write about this now?

Well, that particular Apophis has reared his head a few times since that day, August 10th 2011, and it has taken the last 5 years to realise that everything he has thrown at me… every angry word and every attempted dominance… it has all led to one single conclusion…

The bullies have no hold over me.

boogiemanIt’s taken decades for me to realise but these creatures have no hold over me.

Apophis is trying – even now – to break down my walls and crack me again. He just can’t do it – I may weaken at times but I seem to be able to laugh him off.

I see him trying with others and I see them facing the same barriers that I did 5 years ago; but he can’t touch me.

That’s small consolation.  I have an in built urge to help… I genuinely care and that is one hell of burden to carry… especially when I see the bullies targeting others.

Thankfully, it turns out that facing down bullies really is character building.

I wish I’d realised that sooner, I really do.

So what should you do when the bullies are hounding you and you feel like your very soul is being kicked in by malicious, vindictive little cunts?

Fight back.

Fight back with tooth and claw.

Don’t turn the other cheek.  Don’t ignore them.

Take them on and face them down Jack Burton style.

jburtonDon’t get angry, stay calm.

Arm yourself with the relevant weaponry and fight.

Keep a log of actions that are used to bully you and don’t let those actions weigh you down.

Find allies and stand tall against the bullies.

Nobody is more important in your life than you and yours.

Bullies are irrelevant douche-bags who don’t have anyone important in their lives so they have to impose themselves into yours.

Screw them and screw their irrelevant little lives… you’re awesome and they aren’t.

Gotta Catch ’em All

level41Earlier this Spring I came out (kind of), I announced to the blog-o-sphere that I am Ingress player.

I’ve always been a Gamer, in one form or another.

From that first glimpse of Pong and my Grandfather’s Atari 2600 (which he sold to Soggy… for those in the know).

We had various arcade games on a machine in the family’s fish & chip shop and family games on our ZX Spectrum in the Eighties.

Right through Baldur’s Gate and Diablo in the Nineties; and onto the console wars of the 21st century; I can’t think of a time when my life has not, in some way, been influenced by Gaming.

I LARP, I’ve participated in and run LARP events, tabletop roleplaying sessions.  I’ve played MMOs (finally), single player campaigns and even designed campaigns and systems that nobody will ever play (seriously, I wouldn’t be a genuine roleplayer if I hadn’t! <insert wide grin here for those roleplayers that haven’t delved this deeply into the obsession>)

I’ve written previously about more contemporary games but Ingress was the first to break the mold and invade reality.

That statement probably comes across as somewhat louche from those who know me as a LARPer.

The thing is, LARP is a game which relies on the suspension of disbelief – its very medium is a corruption, ignorance or corruption of reality… some (but not all) particpants cite escapism as their reason for playing.

IngressProfileIngress augments reality.

I’d say a good 90% of my work colleagues are oblivious to the fact that our place or work serves as an anchor to a great many XM fields that ensure the populace of Brighouse are under an alien influence that encourages Art, Love and Creativity.

Unless you’ve been living in a media-proof bubble, you’re already familiar with the company that developed Ingress – Niantic.

Niantic are the brainweasels behind Pokémon GO.

For the past 4 years, Niantic have run Ingress as a successful, GPS based augmented-reality game.

They have encouraged gamers like me to go out into the world, register places of interest that we come across as “XM Portals” and then compete with people in our local areas to control those portals, in a game that has proven both engaging and infuriating over the 3+ years I have played it.

And yet, since shortly after BREXIT, I have neglected Ingress in favour of Niantic’s latest game-child.

I simply have to be the very best.  I have to catch them all!

pogo1Pokémon GO has taken the GPS entities registered by myself and fellow Ingressers (118 places of interest photographed, geographed and registered to date personally) and converted them to either Pokémon Gyms or Pokéstops.

But why?

Why has this fad hooked me in?

Ingress was, by and large, ignored by the mainstream and adopted by Techies (and a few Corporates like me).

In 3 years of playing Ingress I hae become aware of 11 players in the town I work in.

Only 6 of those are what you would class as serious, hardcore, daily players (shout out to agents DMH10, Doodified, Ikibau and Pepian and yah-boo-sucks-to-you to Astral Ranger and DeckardB26354).

Towards the end of last week I took a stroll out on my 30 minutes lunch break (as I usually do) and encountered 15 people playing Pokémon GO.

Fiff-fucking-teen! In a 30 minute (OK, I’ve overshot to 41 recently) period.

15 people playing Niantic’s latest offering, oblivious to the Shaper invasion of Ingress.

My reality wasn’t just augmented… it was skewed!

pogo215! Wow!  Whilst playing Ingress I’d bump into a fellow player – by accident – once in a blue moon.  Most Ingress meet-ups are by design and I shun most of those due to the high number of cheating fuckmonkeys on my team locally.

15 in one day is amazing but why the sudden interest?

Allegedly, Pokémon GO is the most downloaded mobile game ever – EVER!!!1!one!

I never paid much attention to Pokémon in my – erm – late twenties.

Whilst Pokémon was encouraging kids to be the very best, I was building a career as a senior software developer, playing Diablo 2 and dressing up as a Low Elf and fighting the “Dark Alliance” with rubber and latex weaponry.

(OK – by “fighting the Dark Alliance” I mean, being humiliatingly butchered by them – but that’s not the point!)

To date, I’ve shunned Pokémon as irrelevant to my needs.

botpMy own youth was influenced by Science Ninja Team Gatchaman, Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors and Mosschops.

What should I care for random cutesy anime creatures that only seem to speak their own name when I had Thundercats, Transformers and the Masters of the Universe?

Shit son! What constitutedanime” to me in my teens is now classed as “hentai“!

No, the early 21st century’s cartoon pocket monster shenanigans was obviously just a way to part breeders from their money – so that junior could have the latest faecachoo – just like Hasbro did to my parents with transformers when I was a kid.

But now I see what I was missing out on.

You see, Pokémon GO appeals to the Gamer in me.

pogo3Here I am, just under 3 weeks away from my 41st birthday and I’m addicted to a Pokémon game.

You see, it offers everything I need to feed my gaming gland.

Those intelligent bastards at Niantic and Nintendo have hooked me in faster than any schoolyard skag-dealer.

Pokémon GO has 3 whole areas of progression/leveling and if there’s one thing gamers love, it’s leveling.

There is a genuine psychological dependency on character progression.  It’s more addictive than nicotine (which in turn is more addictive than heroin – I can only attest for the veracity of the former statement however).

On top of that, players are encouraged to “catch ’em all”.  I’ve already caught 73 of a possible 150 creatures.

Even better, I can name my Pokémon whatever I like, no profanity filter, just a character limit.

pogo4Like Star Trek: the Next Generation, the mental health benefits of Pokémon GO have been recognised already.

The game gets people out into a pocket-monster-augmented world and interacting with people they never would have thought to interact with previously.

I’m used to that from Ingress – seriously, my local fellow PoGoers seem terrified as I approach them with a toothy grin and demand:

Hi! Are you guys playing Pokémon or Ingress?

This is a genuine phenomenon.

Everywhere I go, I see people playing the game.

And not just the Ingress-paranoia of “Ooh, look, do you think they’re playing Ingress?”.  No this is groups of people, of all demographics, capturing monsters and battling gyms.

pogo5It must be 2 weeks now; 2 weeks of buggy software, overloaded servers and an almost constant Launch App – Attempt Capture/Gym Battle – Force Stop – Launch App cycle… and yet I’m still hooked.

I hit level 20 today, I believe the level cap to be level 50. Now that the server issues seem to have stabilised the game is a real pleasure.

It’s taken me 3 and a half years to get to where I am in Ingress (3 months from level 15 – the cap is 16, I’m 18 months from level 16).

And yet I’m 2/5ths of the way there after 2 weeks!

So there you have it.  I’m a 40-something Pokémon trainer and Gym Leader (until the local Instinct/Valour cock-knockers take out my Vaporeon) and I’m proud… Bring on the wearable!

Expert Opinion

33 weeks ago the country voted, in an advisory capacity, to remove its cannula, jerk out its catheter and make a break out of the door marked “BREXIT”.

Almost 21 days have passed since the nation decided to jump of the EU bandwagon and reach away from the stars (of the European Union) and I feel no better about the decision.

As I’ve written before, I voted to remain in Europe.

Because of that I have been accused of so much rampant Liberalism that I have:

  • Rejoined the Liberal Democrats – may as well be hung as a Lion.
  • Signed numerous knee-jerk petitions.
  • Discussed valid “Leave” & “Remain” arguments post-Brexit.
  • Been accused of “Ageism”, “Socialism”, and of being too sensitive.
  • Been told to person-of-non-specific-gender-the-fuck-up and pull together to help the nation castrate itself.
  • Seen friends and families tear themselves apart over something that none of us have any control over.

I am still angry.

I am still disappointed/disenchanted.

I am still here & just as powerless as I was pre-referendum.

The nation of my birth is still in Europe and the people who campaigned for us to leave have still got no clue as to how we will survive post-Europe.

And so, as much as it makes no difference to the political process that was set in place months ago, we carry on and the people who, like me still give a fuck, scrutinise the arguments, write to our MPs and generally try to voice our “reason” to the world.

Which brings me to the point of this article… I’m no political pundit.

I’m no expert, I’m just a guy who’s spent 4 decades living in the foothills of the Pennines trying to defend himself against a thuggish world that don’t “get” people who actually understand “why” we rub the rocks together – as opposed to just rubbing the rocks together because “Durr! That’s what we do Doofus”.

So I suppose I am an expert.  Just not a political expert… anyway… SQL Server, business analysis, the works of Brian Lumley, the impact of British post-punk musicians on popular music and contemporary occult philosophy – I’m your guy.  The potential effects of British public opinion on the world’s economy – less so.

Which is just as well.

We are now balls-deep into the “Post Fact” age.

We’ve seen the two major political parties in the United Kingdom hosting leadership campaigns built on the back of popularity and gender, as opposed to actual policies.

The United States presidential election has been conducted no better and the aforementioned referendum actively discouraged the public from listening to the reasoned voices of experts.

pobgoveAt the beginning of June, almost a month before the nation went to the polls and decided to remove it’s nose, the former secretary of state of education – Pob Michael Gove stated that the British public had:

had enough of experts

Interestingly enough, he also stated that we should “count him out” of future leadership elections.  Like the other politicians involved in the Leave campaign, he backtracked on that pretty quickly once one the referendum was over.

Pushing the duplicity of politicians to one side, the thing that excites me now – and I mean genuinely piques my interest is that the world has changed… not just on a socio-political level… not just economically but inside.

It’s like the world is The Doctor and all of a sudden we’ve tuned in and The Doctor isn’t a crazy, bescalved, curly haired, grinning jelly baby freak… no the world is now some kind of sleek Cricketer with a hot American wife and a penchant for wooden spoons (and soup dragons).

A friend of mine recently said:

I think we have entered into a world of post fact politics. It is like people live in a world of magical reality.

And I think he’s really hit the Mankey on the nose with that statement.

The general public are now not only encouraged to ignore but are actively ignoring “expert” opinion… even I nearly wrote “so-called ‘expert’ opinion” just then.

Heck, I’ve even railed against experts in my “Church of Pfizer” posts.

“But why is this exciting Armaitus? The country of your birth is in turmoil, the economy is in ruins and the Sith elite have just taken power whilst the Jedi council devours itself from within.”, I hear you cry.

Well that’s an interesting question 700-plus-per-month-average-readership-people and one that I’m super happy to answer…


I Torq-woo-mada

My friend is absolutely correct, we’re entering a world that – albeit unwittingly – accepts a magical reality.

The western world’s – or at least United Kingdom’s and United States’ – paradigm has shifted from a pro-science, pro-expert factual basis to one that I am led to believe is referred to, by the rest of the world, as “WOO“.

When writing about the Church of Pfizer, I was attempting to put forward the proposition that Science was treated by the general public as a Religion.

The majority of the IFLS crowd wouldn’t know Science from Scientology; sheesh, wrap a fictional-factoid up in a handsome enough meme and your median common denominator would lap it up as Science regardless of whether it had an empirical evidential basis or not.

For the latter part of the 20th century and into the early cyberpunk years of the 21st, we’ve been living a transition from a scientific paradigm into something new – an Idiocracy of sorts.

There’s not much of a leap from the I-Fucking-Love-Scientific thinking of the Church of Pfizer to the pseudo-scientific thinking of those of us who choose to live in a magical reality.

To best explain this I can think of no better piece of work than Ramsey DukesS.S.O.T.B.M.E – An essay on magic.

You can see the author talk about the relevant elements of this piece of work here:

The basic principle that the pseudonymous Mr. Dukes puts to us is that you can perceive the general direction that Culture is taking along one of 4 paths.  He goes on to depict this using the following cultural compass:


He goes on to explain:

Thought is compounded of four elements which I call intuition, observation, logic and feeling.

Any practical method of thinking demands at least two of these four elements, one to serve as an input of impressions and the other to process them.

Artistic thought uses feeling and intuition, Religious thought uses intuition and logic, Scientific thought uses logic and observation, and Magical thought uses observation and feeling.

It really is worth (in my opinion) seeking out the works of Ramsey Dukes , he explains magical thinking in terms that are easily understood, without getting bogged down in any particular dogma.

In the context of what is happening in the world today, we appear to be moving from a Science/Religious direction towards a Science/Magic direction.

If you go back as far as the industrial revolution, you could choose to see the world shifting from an Art/Religion direction towards a Religion/Science world view.

Rather than thriving on the blind dogma of the Church of Pfizer, we are now being encouraged to cast out the words of Experts and go with “gut-feeling” and “why-the-hell-not”.  We are encouraged to make emotional decisions rather than decisions based on so-called facts.

None of this stops the truly Scientific world from turning.  Sure it may well influence the scientists that turn the Scientific world but no more so than, say Newton, was influenced by his ardent belief that Christ died for our sins – or Omar Khayyám‘s scientific advancements were influenced by the Koran.

Ramsey goes on to explain why he feels that magical thinking is a likely follow on to the scientific dogma that has been prevalent through my lifetime in the video below:

But why do I find this exciting?

Simple.  We’re living the change.  A genuine paradigm shift is happening, right now!

I know we’ve been told to stop them doing it but they are, they may well be doing it right now… This could be the year that they immanentize the eschaton!

Dawn of Dystopia – No Hands on the Tiller

nohands_borisTL:DR – Wah, wah, boo hoo. Armaitus is unhappy for “reasons” yo… ooh look, the no-hands kitten…

I’ve seen a number of posts, over the last few days, railing against the current “Suck it Up” slash “Keep Calm and Carry On” culture. Hell, I’ve re-blogged some of the more eloquent posts that I’ve read.

As it stands we’re now 5 days into the Dawn of Dystopia that was brought on by the Brexit vote and I have to say I am no closer to “Person-of-non-specific-gendering the Fuck Up”.

The other day I posted about how I haven’t felt like this since being diagnosed with Type-1 diabetes.

The similarities between that situation and this are very similar.

  • Both events happened on a Friday.
  • Both events led to a hellish weekend of uncertainty and isolation as I attempted to transform myself to cope with a new reality.

That’s where the similarities stop.

By the Tuesday, post-diagnosis, I was with it. I knew how to administer my own insulin injections, measure my blood sugar and even had a plan to get myself in shape to deal with a lifelong medical condition…

“Fuck yeah! Let’s do this”

That was a valid viewpoint post-diagnosis; it isn’t a valid viewpoint in this case.

I’m at the end of day 5 and I’m no closer to being able to cope with the dystopic-despondency that I find myself trapped in.

I find myself surrounded by a myriad different personalities on either side of the debate. Some of the more toxic personalities are those telling me I need to “get over it” and start pulling along with everyone else.

The problem is, I still disagree. The Kwisatz Haderach in me sees a dark, grim future down that path.  A future of poverty, destitution and death for many people that I care about.

Not only do I disagree with the choice that 52% (of 72% of those eligible to vote) of the population have made but also the fact that we had this vote foisted upon us, by a workshy government, in the first place.

If this debacle has shown us anything, it is the sheer irresponsibility of the powers that be.

The Conservatives are juggling the cyanide tooth that is party leadership. The opposition have turned on the one leader that’s actually motivated the party in years, and are looking to replace him in a similarly ill-timed leadership battle.

The people who led the Leave campaign have been shown to be bare-faced liars, deceiving an ill-informed electorate. Not one of them willing to take the lead in leaving the European Union.

Worse still, there is no plan post-brexit. Our politicians appear to be more suited to having their hands in the till than on the tiller.

In the meantime the Liberal Democrats are using this as an opportunity to gain votes, and therefore power, on a podium of Europhilia – whilst the very worst elements of society are crawling out of the woodwork and using the new wave of patriotism, and national pride, to beat and abuse anyone who doesn’t meet their idea of British citizenship.

nohansForeign nationals, people of colour, people with weird sounding names, people who look a little bit European, people who stand up to bullies – all targets for nationalist hatemongers.

And that’s the national picture.

Closer to home I am trapped in an environment of sore winners, gloating brexiteers and people who genuinely haven’t got a clue what they are talking about – and yet, in typical Brit-Abroad mentality shout louder the more you point out the flaws in their arguments.

There is no escape.

The catastrophic (yet not legally binding) decision made by the British public has brought about events that are going to result in loss of life, or at least loss of quality of life, for large swathes of the population… or so I believe.

This weekend I tried to get over it by socialising with LARP friends. I really tried.

We drank, we laughed and I tried to swallow back the bilious outpourings that kept clawing their way up, as my psyche tried to purge itself of the days psycho-toxins.

I spent the rest of the weekend sat in a hotel room (I’m a lush, OK), literally numb – stunned by the Dystopian visions of my Kwisatz Haderach mind.

And that’s where I am. Even now there’s a dark swelling that I’ve locked away in my mind. Like the guy in Scanners trying to block out the minds of those around him.

That’s why I’m not up for social interaction right now. I’m trying to get my head around the colossal cluster-fuck that is my core environment right now.

My Herzberg Factor is barely at 2 right now… that’s a massive crash down from 5.

And for the record, when I do pull myself out of this malaise it will not be to pull together and work towards the “Will of the People”.

Nope, I’m going to fight this however I can – as is my democratic right.

So, I apologise in advance for continued dustiness. Normal service will be resumed at some point.

And a final point. Some of those who know me should know that I don’t do blame.

There is no blame here. People were asked to pick between one choice or another – honestly, this collapse (society’s or my own) would have come sooner or later regardless of how the public voted. I don’t blame Leave voters for the status quo, I don’t hate anyone because they voted a different way to me – I’m used to it, I voted yellow or green for years.

People decided how to vote in ways personal to them. Some logical, some emotional. That’s how it works. I may not agree with the outcome but I don’t hold that against the voter.

Happy Now?

Again, an article articulated far better than I could.

100% covers my thoughts on Brexit at this stage.

Katyboo1's Weblog

It is day four in the Big Brexit house.

I had hoped after Friday’s absolute catastrophe of a day that the country might somehow magically rally over the weekend. I mean, when you plunge your country into possible ruin on the promise of a golden future that will allow it to rise like a phoenix from the flames, you have a plan, right?

As it turns out, you don’t. The only person that seems to have any plan at all, and be acting on it rather than just spouting meaningless Churchillian rhetoric is Nicola Sturgeon, and I can’t even vote for her.

I was distraught and angry on Friday. I had hoped to feel better by today. Instead I am running on barely controlled rage and getting more enraged by the moment.

Here are a few things I am furious about:

Firstly, leave voters telling me to calm down. I’m sorry…

View original post 1,627 more words