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Monday, 29 May 2017

Social Justice Stalling

A Game Of Bones

A Game Of Bones

The Climes, They Are A'Changing...

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


I do not say this often, because I don’t think it’s often true, but George RR Martin is a genius. A Game of Thrones opens with the introduction of the White Walkers. Every scifi and fantasy tv show or film ever has programmed me to believe that the threat will be dealt with by the end of episode one or will at least be an ongoing major threat. Instead the threat lingers and the stakes and danger rises but the vast majority of people don’t give a shit because as the show illustrates, they’ve got their own damned problems to deal with.

I came into politics because of the danger posed by climate change and then I got lost. Trans rights, the Feminist movement, Black Lives Matter, Islamophobia, the horror of Israel’s Foreign Policy, North Korea, Russia stirring, the rise of Fascism, Neoliberalism and the creeping threat of Technological Unemployment. There are so many political footballs in play, so many ideological wars being fought.

Then today after two weeks or so of unnaturally glorious sun in cocking England I am woken by thunder and lighting. Do you know why global warming is a bad thing? Why climate change is truly terrifying? You see weather is a complicated system of interdependent physics phenomenon. Wind speeding up through this valley here, heated up here, cooled there and the interactions where hot and cold air meet. The thing most people don’t appreciate about global warming is that the weather gets wilder because it isn’t a uniform temperature increase.

Oh icecaps will melt under global warming but will take a long time for all cold spots to diminish. Storms happen where hot air and cold air meet. Global Warming increases the likelihood and intensity of storms by increasing the temperature differential between hot air and cold air. It’s like pouring boiling hot water on a frozen pipe, the intense reaction caused by the difference in relative temperatures causes the pipe to crack and break where a cooler heat would have allowed the pipe to thaw.

The other thing to consider is how hard it is to cool stuff down once things get hot and how much of life needs to live within a precise goldilocks zone of temperatures. Temperatures that climate change is moving us out of. Already we have witnessed mass extinctions as climate change destroys so many different forms of life. This shit is real, it is happening and things are dying right now because of it.

Which brings me back to Game Of Thrones. The walkers are established early on and they are the big threat for all mankind but George RR Martin shows that nobody gives a fuck. It’s not that they’re stupid, it’s just that with their lives already in danger, believing in a far off threat being more important seems ridiculous. The Lannisters are playing a long game to consolidate power. The Baratheons are trying to claim the throne that is rightfully theirs and the Starks just want to survive while the Boltons don’t give a shit about anything or anyone. It is so tempting to get frustrated at how the clans can’t see the importance of this existential threat to all their peoples and yet you can also so easily get caught up in the personal struggles that don’t advance the cause of fighting the white walkers.

We are just so stupid. We focus on the axe in front of our face, not the avalanche coming to destroy us and our attackers. Heck I’ve done the same. I got caught up in the struggle against the evil empire, I stressed out about the death of capitalism and how will our economy survive the removal of jobs. I have written article after article debating the morality of revolution and the bloodshed it causes when all the while climate change has been slowly increasing.

It is two years since I graduated university, two years since my parents first separated, two years since I got diagnosed with Kallman’s Syndrome, two years since the fascists became obsessed with me. I am tired, in pain and I have long since abandoned what fucks I had to give but as I feel my own time running out I find myself returning to what got me caring about politics in the first place. Our climate is changing, our planet is warming and none of our struggles hold a candle to the truly existential threat that poses. Fascists can get deposed, empires get overthrown, revolutions stabilise after so many different rounds of bloodshed, even nuclear war does not pose as existential a threat as climate change.

Except in a way Game of Thrones has a far easier problem to solve. Humans understand the concept of allying against a bigger enemy and an army of the undead can be killed. There is no way to ‘kill’ climate change dead. We don’t have the liberty of waiting until the undead horde pricks the sides of the powerful. By the time the powerful realise the truly existential danger of climate change and treat it like the apollo space program and put the whole country towards achieving a solution, it will already be too late.

Which is of course the point where stupid fuckwits insist there’s no point in even fucking trying. Oh... You poor fools are so fortunate I have morality because otherwise there would be a special section of hell reserved for me to have my fun with these arrogant condescending negligent morons. We try because the alternative is giving up on humanity and I am not ready to do that. If I had such a defeatist attitude I would already be dead because after all if the solution is going to be hard and it’s unlikely to be enacted, what’s the point in even living out the time I have left?

We need to combat climate change because if we don’t it is going to destroy everything we care about. This is serious, this is happening and we need a global mass organised movement to counter it and I do not give a slightest fuck what arguments you have against it.

Sunday, 28 May 2017

Fight Club Awesomeness

Fight Club Awesomeness

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


Everyone knows the obvious stuff about Fight club. the split frame appearances of Pitt early on, the foreshadowing of “I know this because Tyler knows this” etcetera etcetera but sometimes I think we don’t give a film enough credit for the boring stuff.

Before watching Fight Club properly I remember coming during a tv screening of it about the point of “Ah, Flashback humour” a few years ago. I knew the twist going in and my sister questioned why I might want to watch it. This is a woman who worked at a dvd counter and regularly spoiled the films customers bought. I did not give her opinion much credit, after all the ride is as much the point. Which is why I paid attention to the little things. My brain was primed to nitpick.

I do not like twists. I have read John Dies At The End, I have watched Star Wars, I have watched the Sixth Sense and the River Song arc of Doctor Who. I am used to the reveal twists. Which is why I have thoughts on the twist.

There is a trend in writing that the point of writing is to have characters you care about so that the plots matter. Like the Narrator of Fight Club (here after referred to as ‘Jack’) is our perspective character. He is the unnamed disaffected office schlub that we can put on like a pair of trousers as he experiences the manic pixie dream boy of Tyler Durden and the journey Tyler pulls us on.

Tyler Durden is the gold of this film. He is what makes it. The colour pallette of Fight Club is grey, black and gaunt, even the blood from the fights is black but Brad Pitt’s Tyler Durden is a colourful light in the darkness. I have never seen the appeal of Pitt before conventionally attractive men are just dull to me but Pitt’s Durden is charming, charismatic, funny, badass, kinda dorky and also a manipulative shit. (I like my heroes and villains to be manipulative.) He is the film. Even Fight Club and Project Mayhem is just a way to display the power of Tyler Durden.

So, the conventional narrative would be nameless narrator working in a non-descript office. You introduce Bob, he is the sacrificial lion late in the film we need to care about him, but that could just as easily be at an alcoholics anonymous meeting. Something to emphasise how this could be you. Bring in Tyler earlier, have more time to develop Project Mayhem and then reveal, finale, end. So many other films do this.

Yet Jack is Tyler and the film shows you how that makes sense. We see that Jack has insomnia and he is bored of the empty consumerist lifestyle. Then we see him taking on false identities with he juggles with surprising precision. We see how Jack finds peace in the lie of emasculation. In how he will lie about his name and identity in order to find peace between a pair of breasts. In his dealings with Marla we see that Jack is manipulative and threatening as he divies up the meetings in order to protect his life of lies. We also see that he needs to do this because this life of lies is the only way he can find peace but it’s also something that makes him uncomfortable and destroys his peace if he knows that someone can bare witness to his lies. In short, in that moment we see Jack struggling to express that the best way for him to be happy is to lie about his life in such a way as he doesn’t even know about it himself.

The scary thing for me is just how much it makes sense. I mean this in many ways this is a Jekyll and Hyde style made up condition for the sake of narrative. Yet I am someone who created a character intended to be me but found it grew more and more exaggerated as the best and worst features of myself become accentuated by virtue of the character development of plot until the character ended up not too dissimilar from Tyler Durden, a sort of anarchic James Bond. Factor in the Autoexposiprose where I write a piece of fiction in order to discuss things with my Id as represented by the Farsh-nuke and yeah Tyler Durden makes  a scary amount of sense.

There are of course three key differences. I know the Farsh-nuke is fictional, I never let the actions of the characters I write dictate what I do in the real world and I am not sure if it would be even possible to do something as one persona then have that memory stored elsewhere in the brain. It is however a fiction that I’m sure has entertained so many of us at one time or another. What if you could just go on autopilot during work or just wake up having cleaned the house? I mean how many of us wish cryogenics were an actually viable way of sleeping out decades safely? If that appeals why wouldn’t it be appealing to just wake up with a steady job and a house?

I think this is ultimately why so many people missed the point of Fight Club, because it works so hard to make Tyler Durden make sense as a part of Jack that it inadvertently made Tyler Durden make sense as something we would want to aspire to. What’s that line? “I look like you want to look, I fuck like you want to fuck and, most importantly, I am free in all the ways you are not.” If that isn’t John Hamm telling you to buy this life style I don’t know what is.

Of course we want to look like Tyler Durden, of course we want to fuck like him and of course we wish we were so free. I’ve commented before that the critics of my morality are frequently among the biggest beneficiaries of it. I am a fan of manipulative bastards and I am a nerd who remembers everything and learns easily. Even if I couldn’t have my fantasy of a gulag for anyone who ever wronged me (Dante ain’t got shit on my version of hell), just considering myself free to lie as a felt like it, even to my own advantage could let me do very very much.

There is something very seductive about an invitation to harm. That line “I wanted to destroy something beautiful.” probably plays a lot more into my fetishistic tastes that I’m really comfortable with. Heck even outside of the fiction I write in my reviews and cynical out look that attitude of finding please in destruction, even if it is the destruction of enjoyment or positivity built on bullshit is still there.

The dangerous appeal of Fight Club and why it is so easy to dismiss its message is that some men are just sadistic bored shit heads who would love for the right excuse to come along. I mean in my fantasies the invitation comes alonmg in a beautiful woman who dearly wants me to destroy her in safe, sane and consensual fashion but I can see how Tyler Durden appeals to a lot of men. Indeed with his appeal to traditional masculine strength and ego Tyler Durden foreshadowed many of the tactics used by neo-nazis and radical misogynists to target our young men and brainwash them.

The individualistic isolationist approach of the left wing to the sadistic shit heads of the world is damning it. We should not abandon our brothers who have fallen to the darkness. We should not leave these broken boys to the predatory Tyler Durden’s of the world. Anti-feminists can be reformed. I am proof. We need to stop seeing this ideological divide as a war with casualties and start seeing it as an illness to be combatted. We need to win over the beaten and the damned, show them another way, a better way. Expecting the shat upon to negotiate insulting and provocative language when what they need is a friend is not the way.

Friday, 26 May 2017

Whine Club: We Are Lost

Whine Club:

We Are Lost

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


Fight Club. The movie that launched a million bullshit spewing decades. Only white man is stupid enough to look at a film vilifying us and showing how our masculine ideals are toxic and think “Yeah, that’s right, we should do that!”

And yet, today, I saw how it made sense. I saw, chillingly, how I’m not so far from the narrator of the film. It is tough to be a white man but for the stupidest of reasons. They’ve done research into conspiracy theorists and what they found was that these beaten broken people believe in horrifying cover ups and a crushing lack of free will because it gives them a sense of peace and reassurance. That there must be a plan, that there should be a plan. It can be a stupid plan. It can be an evil plan but for the love of fuck won’t somebody make this shit make sense and have meaning.

Did you know that there is a Scottish, Irish and Welsh Parliament with special devolution for those countries but nothing for England? It’s like how there’s all these support groups for LGBTQA+ groups but nothing for straight heterosexual cisgendered people. Like how people get annoyed and angry when you trend #AllLivesMatter. You see this is the horrifying reality of our fate as straight white cis gendered lady loving men. We are what society considers ‘normal’, we don’t get safe spaces and we don’t get to be snowflakes because we are the privileged. We run the fucking world and we know the horrible fucking truth, equality doesn’t stop life sucking for the many. We have the power, we have no excuse and we know there is no fucking plan just lots of individual fucking morons fucking things up for everyone because they stupidly think it will make them better off.

Here’s the thing, Fight Club isn’t about me. I am an Autistic, Bisexual with Kallman’s Syndrome. I have problems, real problems that even the most dickish of feminists will acknowledge. More than that Tyler Durden talks about how the men of his fight club have no great depression and have no great war. I am a Millennial and Millennials are defined by three things 1. The War On Terror. 2. The Great Recession 3. Information Technology as defined by the iPhone and Facebook.

The thing about Fight Club is that it is defined by boredom by how being a man means being part of the great unwashed who have no sense of community after neoliberalism destroyed worker solidarity and neighbourly friendliness. Information Technology changed that. I am not lady loving white cis gendered man. I am a fan of World War Z, Transmetropolitan, the Culture novels, sharkploitation films, pc games and Doctor Who. I am not my demographic, I am the things  I care about and through them others can understand me even when words fail me.

Yet I ‘got’ this film, I understand how a million douchebags were spawned from it. You see I suffered through school and got good grades. I went to college and university then I stalled and my world fell apart about me. My parents divorced, my social life imploded, my health and masculinity were revealed as a fucking wreck, My confidence was destroyed and I dove head first into politics in search of an answer, just in time to witness a proper Conservative government majority, the Rise of Donald Trump, Brexit and now Thatcher 2.0 promising to fuck the country hard as my family tries to convince me living in government supported housing is  a totally safe and sensible option because my very existence is a financial burden.

And oh yeah, there’s been a terrorist attack in Manchester. I think I’m supposed to talk about it because somehow I’ve ended up a political pundit. How the fuck did that happen? Anyway I can’t think about it and I can’t talk about it because I know logically that the human thing to do is talk about the great tragedy of lost life and the British spirit of indomitability. I know what I’m supposed to say and I know that saying anything different would be insulting or insensitive. People need time to grieve. They need to process the events and deal with the aftermath. The problem is that I can know what to say, think differently, know I shouldn’t think differently and still think I should express my opinion anyway. So, sorry.

I am struck by the same anger and confusion I feel at being a white man in the 21st century. People are suffering, I know it’s ultimately our fault but I fail to see the logic behind it. An Ariana Grande concert in fucking Manchester? Who targets Manchester? Who the fuck thinks an Ariana Grande concert is a worthwhile target? Who the fuck decides it’s worth dying for? It’s like if Hitler decided to invade the fun fair or blow up an ice cream truck? How the fuck is this achieving your objectives? ‘Ah yes, we must kill the infidels who bomb our country and so we shall target the semi popular inoffensive lady singer girls like. Truly that will set the west quaking with terror.’ It’s like when Trump supporters keep calling you a cuckold and expecting you to feel offended. Dude, why does this matter to you? Why are you wasting your energy on this? Also, everybody knows the establishment in England only care about London anyway. Blowing up Manchester feels like someone deciding to scare you by lightly prodding you in the shoulder then going “Nyeah!” We blow up more people as collateral damage than they do deliberately. This isn’t terrorism. This isn’t war. This is madness

Sorry again. All life is sacred and the families and friends of those affected should be allowed to grieve in their own time. I hope you see what I’m getting at though. It’s the same frustrated incomprehension at stupid cruelty defining what it means for me to be relatively woke white man. Every other demographic gets to fantasize about a conspiracy. That if they had control things would be different. These fantasies are useful. They have inspired and empowered protests, demonstrations and disobedience that have achieved great victories for equality and civil rights. They are useful and they are built on grains of truth. White men have exploited, discriminated and otherised. They continue to do so. What so many get wrong however is the assumption that it is all part of some elaborate coordinated plan.

That’s the irony of course, fuck-ups are caused by morons out of self interest with barely a plan to benefit themselves, never mind anybody else. Then people explain those accidental uncoordinated stupidity induced fuckups as a great and terrible plan before declaring that it’s okay because they have their own plan. Plans are terrible unless they’re made by your guys, is the implicit message. The reality is there are no plans except those drawn up by nut cases convinced that the establishment has plans. Yet the plan is a nice lie to believe in, even when it is a bad or evil plan.

What’s the phrase? ‘Just following orders’? Freedom is excellent, freedom is awesome but freedom is also terrifying and deadly. Human Civilization isn’t defined by freedom, it is defined by cages that protect us. A cage can be a trap, torture and death but it is also the only way to have true safety. Wild animals are free and wild animals are defined by death and suffering. The sick thing is that I see people seemingly ready and willing to embrace such a notion. Fat, depressed virginal basement dwellers talking about the survival of the fittest, how the white man is superior, women are meant to be passive before men, guns are crucial to freedom and economic liberalization is the only way to secure the economy.

Newsflash arseholes: You are embracing the very worst parts of freedom and the things we have spent a very long time trying to counter.

When you base your dislike for the unlike in genetic superiority you are advocating genocide and eugenics. You are advocating the extinction of the race you consider inferior because you think it’s natural. Boys, you really do not want to start justifying genocide because not only while you find your own beloved white race ready to brutally destroy you for spouting such bullshit but even if you were right, what the fuck makes you think the white race would be the one left standing? We have fucked with everyone. We have mistreated, abused, oppressed, raped, tortured and murdered people who didn’t fit our definition of normal. Just what the ever loving fuck makes you think our race would win. White people talking genetic superiority and natural selection is throwing stones when you live in a glass house. Except with genocide. So don’t fucking do it. Idiots.

Women are not biologically inferior to men. We define god as the creator and we worship god. Woman is the real creator of man and nature shows us that she has power enough to elicit extreme submissiveness from men. The survival of the fittest you may call it. The survival of the woman’s preference more like. We are so fucking lucky that we got ridiculously good at brainwashing women to behave passive from an early age because if they knew the power they had over us we’d let them eat us alive. So yeah,don’t ever fucking base treatment of women in nature because the laws that protect her protect you and me from her.

Guns are just the stupidest things imaginable. Humans are dumb and panicky. We get drunk, we get tired, we get stressed and angry. Hell, we see time and time again that the Police Force and Military contain jackasses who overstep the line and use their authority and weapons to treat people like shit. And these are the people who are hired selectively, undergo special training and have to follow careful regulations. If they are dangerous and out of line, shooting when they shouldn’t then giving every person a gun is ridiculously stupid. Something the statistics bare out. Yes, guns can be used legitimately if you have training, keep them safely locked aware and only use them for legitimate purposes but that is not the same as letting any dumb shit own a gun and just trusting he’ll know what to do and how to keep it safe.

Economic Liberalization is what really gets me though because it affects me. A free market can be a wonderful thing for the competitiveness it stimulates within companies but we have liberalized the markets too much and allowed companies to become apex predators who no longer have to compete.

You freedom loving bastards have taken everything great about humanity and turned it to the defence of the powerful at the expense of the weak. Or at least you fully intend to and are succeeding despite the forces acting against you. I don’t want freedom but neither do I trust fascism. I am a capitalist and you know what means? That means I know that humans are stupid, greedy, selfish shits who only do things because it benefits them. That means I know that the only way this system works is if we keep each other honest, if it is in our best interests to look after other people. We need democracy, we need workers unions, we need charities and protest organisations because it’s the only way to keep society honest and turning for ther greater good.

Yes, Feminism is about Women, Black Lives Matter is about Black People, Gay Pride is about Gay People and Socialism is about Working People. All these groups talk about a rising tide lifting all boats. They’re wrong. What they mean is that the machine of society only works when all the cogs are turning properly. This is them, turning their cogs, keeping us honest, keeping us turning our cogs so that the great machine continues to function.

The great tragedy of Fight Club is that it hit the right nerve but delivered the wrong message despite itself. White men are lost. Not because we’ve forgotten how to be men but because we’ve forgotten what it means to be the demographic in power. We have a responsibility and we are filing in the execution of it. We run the world and then we complain that we are powerless to fix it as we desperately blame the demographics we subjugate. We do this because the vast majority of us aren’t the people running the world. The vast majority of us have no real power, our lives asre shit and then everybody else discriminates against us because of the actions of the CEOs, lawyers, politicians and media moguls.

I have had two years in the purgatory of joblessness and I am telling you that if Theresa May introduced a make work prograsmme for the unemployed, I would personally be relieved. If I could do it, easily and well, then be sure of a half decent wage I would gladly take that over the dubious freedom offered by living on charity and government support payments. I would rather be a cog in the machine with a sense of security than a lazy jobless person who feels like the ground could fall out from under them at any moment.

I am tired, in pain and so thoroughly sick of this shit. I genuinely don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to kick the can of economic unviability down the road, how much longer I’ll be able to wake up every day to an uncertain painful future. If Theresa May gets in again come June the 9th, I think there is a not insignificant chance I might genuinely kill myself because I am so fucking terrified of living in government supported housing during a conservative government. The sad thing is I know I’m privileged for even having the luxury of fearing that life.

The world is fucked and there is no grand plan. Which is why so many white men fucking lose it and kill themselves or others, I think. We don’t have the luxury of blaming our problems on other people. Heck even I’m only staying as sane I am by nursing quiet controlled hatred of women and trans people (In my defence the trans people hatred came after they destroyed what little social life I had and it’s less general, more specific.)

So yeah. Fight Club bought out some feels in me. Though I should probably also point out that today, for some reason, my pain meds and caffeine pills failed to work like usual so I have had a freshly terrible day. Probably explains the extra bitterness.


Wednesday, 24 May 2017

Transmetropolitan

Transmetropolitan

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


The world is filled with violence, death and suffering, Roger Moore has died and a suicide bomber decided to blow up an Ariana Grande concert in fucking Manchester. It feels stupid to care about anything small at the moment, to take pleasure in good food, good weather or good fiction at the moment. For the past two years especially I have felt like I’m not allowed to have a good time, that I must be frantically panicking on the edge or the universe will contrive some fresh reason for me to be.

Yet life continues. It has to. I know it maybe isn’t the best form to bring up and then so quickly dismiss such weighty and emotional topics but I didn’t feel like I could just leave such topics unsaid and I did not want to rush out an article when so much is still unknown and I haven’t had time to process recent events myself. Also the subject I’m going to talk about would make not mentioning a major act of terrorism in my own country seem odd.

So about a week ago I listened to School of Movies review Transmetropolitan. A comic series. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have bothered because I don’t read comics and School of Movies can be a bit preachy. And having read 500 pages on the subject of how psychologists mostly don’t know dick about things has made the prospect of their usually interesting psychoanalysis of popular media seem distinctly problematic. I mean don’t get me wrong I may be an anti-theist but I can enjoy a good astrology reading or tarot session. That said their otherwise interesting discussion of Scott Pilgrim Versus The World did have me squirming the moment a Jungian breakdown of the film/comic took place because this wasn’t just interesting nonsense anymore, my brain was associating it with the guff that got autistic kids and their families mistreated for decades.

(If Alex or Sharon Shaw ends up reading this somehow. No offence is meant. We all bring our own biases into media and that will affect how we interpret it. I don’t say this to slag anyone off but to provide context for my review by outlining the baggage I went in with. I still otherwise love the podcast and your work.)

That said the weather lately has been amazingly beautiful and my sister has been on me to exercise so I needed a walk and I needed accompaniment to keep my brain from dissecting all the reasons I suck and how I should really die in fire then get sent to the lowest circle of hell. So I listened to the podcast and, it was amazing. School of Movies is a deep and rich discussion podcast, I may not be so how on their psychological analysis right now but I still love that School of Movies is that kind of show which tries to go that deep into it. They won me over. I tracked down digital copies of the comic issues and I have been reading them instead of politics. I just finished the series and I have things to report.

Firstly it would appear that as I approach 25 I have accumulated enough massive interests that I can pretty much know I will love something just by tropes and subject matter covered. Transmetropolitan is a story about a journalist (check), taking on evil politicians (check) in a cyberpunk/post-scarcity society (check) in which jokes about people being eaten are regularly made (check) and he is aided by a tall, slim, ginger, female, stripper/bodyguard (Checkity-check-check).

Except it is so much more than that. This has epic story telling, multiple ongoing character arcs and a sense of place and cultural context that is distinctly American while having the best kind of British comedic sensibilities with wit, sarcasm and politeness judo.

I love this series. I love this comic and I think a lot of this love has to go to Darick Robertson. The writing is obviously the thing I will gush most about because I arrogantly consider myself one and am most interesting in writing but without Darick Robertson I am certain I could despise Transmetropolitan. The reason I don’t do comics normally is because of the uncanny valley affect where something looks normal but not quite so it creeps the ever loving fuck out of you. Darick’s art is not uncanny and his consistency of art style is no doubt what let me pay attention to the writing of Warren Ellis. Not that Darick’s art isn’t also beautiful and graphically appropriate and grotesque when it needs to be either. It’s just that for me the art style makes or breaks my enjoyment of a comic. The writer can have an off day and I can push through it. I forced my way through the audiobook of a Song O Ice And Fire for Zarquon’s sake. But an artist? They have to be at least good every issue or one bad page can send me right off the comic.

Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson have not just written a damned fine comic series and one I will be recommending to everyone I know but they have done something I had not throught possible. They have shown me that I can love comics. That it isn’t all Marvel and DC with fucked continuities. The story of Transmetropolitan is contained, well told, well shown and fucking glorious. I feel like I did after I read Lungbarrow, the book that solidified my love for Doctor Who. This wasn’t me losing my comic book virginity but this was the first comic book good enough to have me actually wanting more.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go have breakfast and read through the TV tropes of Transmetropolitan.

Monday, 22 May 2017

Faith

Faith

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


The thing about being an Atheist is there’s nobody to guide you, no procedure for processing guilt or grief, for moving past when you fucked up. I have fucked up a lot in these last two years, well in the whole of my life really and it has been so hard learning how to move forward. Why couldn’t I have just let myself by Christian?

The Church of England is harmless. I mean okay, it was founded so Henry the 8th could secure his legacy by having a male son, and yes, it now represents the last great stronghold of old British conservatism, but compared to other Christian sects the Church of England is so watered down as to be practically atheistic anyway. It is a religion of tradition, festivals and tea drinking but most people accept the bible to be metaphor. I could have had it so easy. Procedures for processing guilt, grieving and how to be a better man, even a social life and a way of living that flowed in a nice cyclical number of ceremonies. I could have had it so easy.

Except it was wrong, because science had forced religion back and back and back until it was just Atheism with culture attached, because if god existed I’d beat the cocksucker to death with my bare hands and proudly go down as the man who killed god because how dare that negligent bastard get so much fucking respect when all he does is send disaster after disaster in our direction. So much bitterness. So much rage. The Church of England promised me a father who wasn’t there when I needed him, had no sense of privacy and couldn’t even match the good qualities of my real father.

So I’ve been alone for so long. Finding Doctor Who was like finding religion for me. In the seventh Doctor I learned about Utilitarian Morality, about how you keep going when your actions have hurt people you care about, how you can do everything right and still find everything turn to shit. I had already learned the lesson that when you care about something it will be viewed as a weakness. School taught me that.

The woman feminist is the typical example when I think of the mentality that haunts me and degrades society. Not that the feminists are the problem but they are such and obvious example of this law taking place. Where weakness is perceived it will be savagely attacked. Like a gamer instinctively attacking the glowing parts of a boss people will attack a woman feminist with misogynistic slurs because it’s just the obvious route of attack. This is why political correctness, trigger warnings and safe spaces have sent the arseholes into a veritable frenzy. It were as though everybody in the world had developed great glowing weak spots and they, as the player, had been handed a gun with infinite ammo.

So I was wary about letting Doctor Who have such an impact on me but this is where Doctor Who offered me such strength. Like any great religion Doctor Who has different sects and it just so happened that my sect was an incredibly unknown sect, leaving me free to rip the almighty piss into the sects of Doctor Who that the arseholes of the world could know about and thereby set them off my trail. I made a two video on why I hated the then most popular Doctor precisely so that the arseholes could not use the obvious attacks against me. And anyway, Doctor Who had already survived cancellation and rebirth, it didn’t need me to protect it.

So why do I mention Doctor Who now? Because the latest episode, Extremis by Steven Moffat, has been making me think. Whole essays could be written on that episode but I know a lot of my friends have yet to catch up on the latest series so I won’t spoiler it. It ultimately isn’t relevant to what I have to say anyway. It just made me think.

My existence is pain. Every day I get up and such pain arcs through my body that screaming isn’t enough. It’s like when you’ve come home after a particularly long walk, you’ve removed your shoes and had a bit of a rest then you get up and the soles of your feet just cry out. “No!!!” It is like that every day, more than once a day, even with pain killers. I’ve been taking caffeine pills with the pain killers to keep my creaky body moving but just existing is an effort, never mind eating, shitting, cleaning, walking or even trying to fucking work.

I live because there are things I enjoy even despite the pain and because I have obligations to this world but I confess that if there is a god he knows I’ve been bugging him daily with plees for death. This is actually why I’ve forced myself to disengage from interaction or observation with anyone other than people I know. I promised not to kill myself, not technically the same thing if I get myself killed by angry commenters is it? I don’t drink not because I’m not an alcoholic but because I know that if I allowed myself the excuse I’d used it as a loop hole.

I made a video once expressing how I have difficulty dealing with the guilt of being a white man in the twenty first century, never mind my specific sins. I said I feel like I’m going to hell so predictably every comment stated that I was already in hell. Well it sure as shit feels like it now. I have fallen so far and I struggle to see how I can get up again, my every existence is pain but I don’t give up, I am not allowed to give up. So I take my pills, I write what I need to write and I fill my life with distractions.

My mum keeps naively believing that anti-depressants are the solution. I am an autistic person, I learned to celebrate my emotions from my logic long ago. I am not silently wishing for death because chemicals in my brain are out of balance. I am not longing to cease to exist because the feels are overwhelming. I look at my life, I look at the choices I have and dying seems the easiest and simplest answer.

My body is in agony every day, I sleep on the floor after my last bed broke, I’m so fucking huge that chairs keep breaking beneath me, I have no job, no prospects, no real life social life, I have all but given up on a love life, I have no money and unless Corbyn wins on June the 9th, my ability to have a roof over my head will lie in the hands of a party that has historically shown massive disdain and contempt for anyone who needs the help of the state. The crazy thing is I am well aware that I am living a life of fucking luxury compared to so many other people in Conservative Britain.

Yet I keep fucking going. I drag myself to my feet collapse into my chair at the start of the day, take my pain meds, boot up my computer and I keep fucking going. Why? How? I want to give up. I want to just not get up one day, to lay in bad until I starve to death. I mean okay I’m fat so I’d take a long time to die that way and the boredom would be worse than the pain but the point still stands. Why and how do I keep goddamned going when I know my existence is just shitty pain with a bleak and uncertain future? I mean Amy Pond is nice to think about but she isn’t that fucking nice. There is more to this than a simple cost/benefit analysis.

Understand that we are all fucked. Even if every voter comes to their senses and we vote out the neoliberals and the fascists. Even if we do everything we possibly can to mitigate the shit that’s about to rain down upon us collectively, we’re still going to get drenched. To be honest the election on June the 9th looks like either we’re going to get some real hope of survival at last or Theresa May’s insane government will see us all swamped by a tsunami of shit. This is isn’t just about me, about my suffering, my fate.

I could find a solution if it was just me who was fucked but the very fact that we are all fucked has forced me to do something I have not done in such a long time. To cling to faith in something higher as a reason to avoid giving in.

I remember the last time I clung to faith. It was when I was at school, living out what felt like a prison sentence, having to troop into a place where I would be subjected to misery and humiliation time and time again. The entire time I made myself obey the rules, made myself be a pacifist, made myself do the homework and get the grades because I honestly believed that once the hell was over there would be something fucking better. There wasn’t but the belief kept me fucking going. It kept me alive and it kept me sane or as sane as it is possible to be when your body is fucked but nobody knows, when every day you go somewhere to be bored and humiliated only to come home to be screamed at and insulted while your brain is so overworked it causes you agony and vomiting.

I kept going then and I keep going now because I am the man that can’t be bought or threatened. Because there is a tsunami of shit heading in our direction and people are going to be needed when it hits. You know how in Watchmen there’s that doomsday clock that keeps counting down? The threat of nuclear apocalypse hanging over everybody’s heads? Well at least the politicians, the media and the public recognised the danger posed by nuclear apocalypse. We are living in a time of gradual environmental and economic and apocalypse and the vast majority of powerful people are too short sighted and stupid to do anything serious about either of those problems. Instead they blame the poor for not spending more when the poor have ttle to spend because of the stupidity and greed of the rich.

I am not a fucking Socialist and Marx has done more to destroy capitalism by giving it the perfect set of straw man scape goats to resist capitalism than any action of revolution. I must be the only man who has considered advising violent revolution to fucking restore capitalism as a viable force in the world again. It’s just that you can’t fucking have the benefit of free markets when there are global monopolies and a tiny amount of people have the vast majority of the money and if we don’t address this now then there is no chance in hell of capitalism being saved from destruction when the few have drained so much money from the populace that the economy crashes.

There is massive devastation and suffering coming to the world because the very rich are too fucking stupid. I know this for a fact and I hope to shit they can adapt fast enough when the consequences of their actions start hitting them where it hurts. I can’t just stand by and let this happen. I can’t just take the easy way out when I know the socialists and the communists are about to win by fucking default because the capitalists are all too fucking stupid to see the danger. I can’t give into my own weakness when there is a chance I may be needed.

If I have a faith now it is that good men do not sit idly by when there are problems in the world and I am, despite my sins, a good man. I may be going to hell for my sins and I may be in hell right now because of others but there is suffering in the world and greater suffering yet to be inflicted. Even if it is hopeless, even if it is painful, even if I lose over and over and ever, even if I make fuck up after fuck up and I burn with the weight of all I have done and all I have to do. I can’t just sit by while there is suffering in the world, when there is suffering that can still be prevented. I can’t do much but I have to do what I can and I can’t do anything if I’m dead.

So I live. I live because I have faith that every good man will do his duty for the needs of the many and I am a good man. 

Saturday, 20 May 2017

Hope

Hope

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


I’ve been happy for a few days now. (Or maybe a couple of weeks, my sleeping pattern makes it hard to keep track) That’s odd. Really odd. I mean yeah I finally have some peace at last and the can of economic survival has been kicked far enough down the road that I’m not worrying about it but that’s not enough since I still get moments when my shitty situation comes to the fore. I mean I’ve had good podcasts, good weather, good tv and a good comic to read but boredom still grips. Yet the happiness never really goes away. Not normal for someone so frequently bored, tired and in pain.

Except I see it now.

Bias can be hard to see through and politics is full of bias. The truth has been so hard to see because every source of evidence for it has had a different bias and considering one of the sources I’m using here is myself that was particularly hard to consider yet please bare with me as I lay out the puzzle pieces:

Owen Jones in Chavs and the Establishment lays out the rise of Margaret Thatcher and Neoliberalism as the beginning of the shit times.

Paul Mason chimes in with Post Capitalism

Martin Ford indirectly correlates with Paul Mason that Neoliberal politics happened around the acceleration of information technology as a viable job stealer.

I lay this out in my own articles. Tearing my hair out over Neoliberalism killing Capitalism through the rise of policies that incentivised technological unemployment and collapsed the economy.

Article after article from 4 chan whistle blowers, cracked writers and mainstream press to members of the alt-right talking about how Donald Trump is terrifying because he stands outside neoliberalism, is a fascist yet still won.

Fucking Dan Carlin campaigned for decades to get a change candidate and is now second guessing himself.

Jeremy Corbyn got elected, faced internal coup after internal coup but in the face of a general election his critics are rallying behind him.

Theresa May backs fox hunting, grammar schools, restricting voting and an orwellian control of the internet in her manifesto.

I write article after article and make video after video wondering if Trump is the greatest defeat the fascists ever had by wasting the opportunity, being the villain we all see coming and too damned incompetent to do anything while shining a light on the dark underground of fascist Americans.

Trump fires the head of the FBI for investigating his ties to Russia, gives state secrets to Russia, brags about it and complains that people think it’s wrong. His Press Secretary hides in bushes and is seen wearing a di9fferent make of shoe on each foot. Impeachment Proceedings begin.

France votes against fascism but only after the centrist was shown as the alternative to fascism.

The final piece of the puzzle came today as I read Transmetropolitan then had time to think in the shower. The Beast finally reveals his ethos and why the Smiler is full of shit. The Beast by the way is very Trumpian and Smiler is obviously inspired by Tony Blair the king of Neoliberalism.

Or to the quote Alexander Hamilton at the end of Hamilton: “I have never agreed with Jefferson once, we have fought on like seventy five different fronts, but when everything’s said and everything’s done: Jefferson has beliefs, Burr has none.”

Ladies and Gentlemen and all you other glorious peoples across the grand and mighty spectrums of time and the multiverse, Capitalism is dying and we are all going to get fucked but the time of Neoliberalism is over. The rise of Fascism was a blip caused by the right being more self serving and quicker to adapt to changing political realities but it indicates to me that, with Trump’s tomfoolery in America, the thwarted danger in France and May’s rightward shift in Britain, that the global political establishment has changed. Britain has Corbyn, America has Sanders and I am certain now that May’s daft policies are the sign of a conservative party that can see the days of neoliberalism are over and naively believes its old policies will be vote winners.

It has taken me so long to see consciously because my life is still in the shit but this last year was the year of solving politics and miraculously I think we’ve done it. There’s as very long and bumpy road ahead but the unstoppable establishment has been forced to change and adapt and this is only the beginning.

Fuck.

You know what this means?

I need a new project to obsess over.

Why I'm not covering the 2017 UK election more

The Social Justice Educator

The Social Justice Educator

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


A young white man stands on the roof of a building. He walks purposefully to the edge and look down. Far below cars are driving along a busy road, hooting at pedestrians who try to cross the street too early. He swallows nervously and instinctively takes a step back as his gaze settles on the horizon.

Before him, a dark skinned woman dressed in bright white robes is hovering in the sky.

“Are you an angel?” He asks, dumbfounded.

She floats around him and comes to rest a few meters behind him on the building’s flat roof.

His eyes follow her instinctively and he turns on the spot, his back to the horizon.

“I am an SJE” she explains.

“A what?” he asks, mind slow from shock.

“A Social Justice Educator.” explained the woman. “My order was founded by the elder god Gfaxxy Quluwmcy in bring about social justice through enlightenment.”

“I thought Muslims worshipped Allah.” said the man before catching himself and grimacing at his own stupid insensitivity.

“There is space enough in the multiverse to worship all gods.” explained the woman warmly. “You are to be congratulated on your care for customs different to your own.”

The young man burst out in harsh bitter laughter.

The SJE just watched him, expressing concern at this reaction.

“I fucked up okay.” said the young man when he noticed her expression. There was anger and resentment in his voice. “I got hurt and I lashed out, alienated my friends. I lost everything and in my darkest hour I feel victim to the only people who give a shit about the plight of angry young man.”

“You are not alone.” said the SJE compassionately.

“Yeah, that’s what they said.” he said bitterly. “They offered me family, friends and a new sense of purpose in life. I didn’t give a shit about their fucking rhetoric but they listened as I ranted and they consoled me when the rest of the world pushed me away. They were there for me when nobody else was and they did it for the worst reasons...”

He looked up sharply at the SJE and cried out with great anguish. “THEY USED ME!!!”

He closed his eyes then turned back to the horizon and said more calmly. “They took my pain and rejection and used it turn me into a soldier for their retched cause. I said horrible things because it made them happy, I took part in harassment, abuse and gas lighting because it was our way of bonding as a family. We fucked over vulnerable people as a past time because it made us feel good, because it helped bond us in blood.”

He turned back to the SJE and shook his head bitterly. “I don’t deserve salvation. None of us do.”

The SJE nodded compassionately. “It is true that you did bad things but all deserve salvation if they can see the light and what you have just told me tells me you have seen it for yourself.”

He bit his lip, put his hand on his hips, sucked his teeth, sighed then shrugged. “I haven’t. I’m still the bastard that alienated his friends. I have seen women and trans, gays and blacks at their worst and I still prefer a submissive white young woman. I am not enlightened. If anything I am more4 full of hate than I was before because they hatred and refusal to make peace is why I fell to those predatory bastards.”

The SJE chuckled warmly.

The young man glared at her, indignant. “Something funny.”

“Boy, you really must be naive if you think everyone who believes in social justice is free of bigotry and bias.” said the SJE with warmth and good cheer in her voice.

“Well they sure as shit can’t tolerate anyone expressing those values.” said the young man angrily.

“The campaign for social justice is not about controlling how people think.” said the SJE gently. “Even those who angrily declare that an opinion that oppresses or wishes death upon others is intolerable likely hold opinions wishing death and oppression upon those they disagree with.”

“Well I fucking know that.” said the young man bitterly.

“The point is not that you must police your thoughts but that you police your actions and those of your peers.” said the SJE. “The human race is not going to become free of bigotry overnight, all it can do is hope to encourage future generations to think differently by setting good examples and punishing those who let their bigotry affect negatively upon other people.”

“Then why are my people abandoned?” whined the young man.

“Because you abandoned them.” said the SJE.

The young man strode angrily up towards the SJE. “Excuse me?”

“Woman died and faced rape by police over their fight to get the right to vote. Gay men and black people saw peaceful protest after peaceful protest descend into riot and death when they fought for equality in the face of oppression. Trans people still face death threats and horrific treatment, sometimes even from well meaning peers when they fight for increased visibility and equality. If the white man has noone to fight for him but bigots then it is because you aren’t prepared to fight for your kin.” said the SJE matter of factly.

The young man glared at her. “How dare you? How very fucking dare you? When people think of Men’s Rights they think of misogynists. When people think of taking pride in your nationality or race they think of neo-nazi eugenicists.”

“When people think Muslims they think of Al-Qaeda or ISIS.” said the SJE looking the young man in the eyes. “So we let the world know that we condemn such actions by holding protests, protecting the vulnerable and peacefully displaying our Britishness through open days where people can come into places of worship and drink tea with us. What are you doing?”

The young man fell silent then he returned to the edge of the roof.

The Social Justice Educator cried out. “You don’t need to die! You don’t need to abandon what you believe in! You just need to show your brothers that another way is possible! That another England is possible!

The young man shook his head bitterly. “They control the language and they have the numbers. I can’t do this. I can’t take them on.”

The Social Justice Educator was beside him now and whispered. “They control the language because you let them but you are not alone. The suicide rates for white men show that there are many like you who want a better world but don’t know how to achieve it. Well I’m telling you, go make your better world.”

He looked her in the eyes and asked. “How?”

“How does any Revolution begin?” asked the Social Justice Educator. “It begins when the enlightened put their anger into words so others might read it. Be the change you want to see in the world. Be the brother you needed when you were so low. Be the man that listens to the ranting, shows compassion for the frustration then shows the hurting man that being part of the wider community is still possible.”

The young man said. “I really don’t think it’s possible to celebrate being a white Englishman without being racist.”

“Really?” asked the Social Justice Educator. “Then are you unaware that the patron saint of England was an immigrant? That we imported Royalty from Germany after we decapitated our king? That Britain is a culture built on the mingling of the best from other cultures? That the great British cup of tea comes from India?”

The young man smiled then he looked down at the life happening far below and asked. “Is this really the best use of your time?”

“Inspiring the fallen to fight for the redemption of the damned is a far more efficient use of a person’s time than simply punching those you disagree with.” said the Social Justice Educator.

The young man looked nervously at her. “But nazis are genocidal, isn’t that the one time violence is the moral thing to do.”

“Indeed it is.” said the Social Justice Educator. “But if people like you do your jobs properly then there will be a lot less nazis to punch. Peace, Redemption and Diplomacy is always better than violence and war. Besides the only people who actually need punching are the politicians who look like they might enact a policy of genocide.”

“So you’re saying that if I do this then not only will I be fighting the good fight against tyranny but I’ll be sparing more people from violence?” asked the young man.

The Social Justice Educator nodded. “If you can convince the people to abandon Neo-Nazi ideology in favour of Social Justice then Race War can be avoided.”

The young man bit his lip stared off at the horizon, glanced down at the life happening far below then darted in the direction of the stairs.

The Social Justice Educator smiled and faded from the universe.

Thursday, 18 May 2017

Figuring Stuff Out

Patriarchal Momentum

Patriarchal Momentum

Patriarchal Momentum

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


Patriarchy is loosely speaking the system of individuals and interlocking incentives to oppress women in favour of women. This oppression takes various forms from a wage differential, control over women’s bodies with regards to pregnancy and an exploitation of how women look and behave for the benefit of men.

I am not a feminist academic so I will not be arguing about the definition of patriarchy or the specific natures of oppression. I do not claim right to define or argue such things. I think it is however indisputable to all sane and thinking members of the human race that sexual oppression within certain countries at least was worse and has gotten better yet progress towards greater equality seems to have stalled.
There is still work that needs to be done in America, Britain and other western countries to secure equality for the sexes yet it has got caught in the weeds. We live in an age where women are technically legally equal yet don’t have equality in practice. I aim to explore why that might be and suggest a solution.

It is undeniable from a glance at western society and western politics that women are still not actually given equal treatment in practice. Women have much more pressure put upon them to dress to impress others, to be slender, young and wear tight fitting clothes. Women still struggle top gain equal representation in the media and politics. Yet if you bring this fact up you will find yourself outnumbered by critics to a change.

I understand male desire against this change, testosterone has an almighty impact on how a man sees women, When I got my testosterone injections the tight fitting clothes, the make up and fitness industry gained all the sense of a factory designed to turn sugar into sweets. You might take issue with the energy being devoted to such a task but it is hard to argue against the role of such a factory when the output makes you so very very happy.

What surprises me is the women supporting this. I fully understand and champion the why when it comes to politics. Trump is a monster but he is a monster we all saw coming, who will scupper the hopes of fascists by bringing their ideas into the cold light of day through the role of an utter moron, while the presidency isn’t quite as powerful as it would need to be to cause real damage. Hilary Clinton would have been a victory for women but also for neoliberalism, and all the more terrifying because she would be a smart establishment figure capable of pushing through her agendas, while the world ignored the risks she posed out of relief and celebration. I get outraged at the Blairites who assume Jeremy Corbyn can’t champion women when his policies will benefit more women than their right wing horseshit.

Politics will be slow to change but why is the media? Why is the fashion industry and advertising industry? Why is it women defend the gender imbalance in the media? Why is it women as well as men prefer to see pretty girls in advertising? Why do they chase dressing in ways that appeal quite strongly to the male gaze?

The answer is quite simple I think: Capitalism.

When your role in society is defined by what a man thinks of how you look then you are going to be incentivised to look as appealing as possible. With the advert of Film, TV and mass market advertising this cultural evolution towards the satisfaction of the male gaze as an economic incentive goes into overdrive. Remember there is a massive gender disparity in the media with the men feeling a strong subconscious pull towards the sexual objectification of women even now. So of course what a women considers an appropriate way to dress will be strongly influenced by what a man appreciates in women. As women’s liberation pushed back against patriarchal censorship so patriarchal objectification exploited and selected for the men’s fantasy of female form more and more.

To be clear I absolutely understand that most of the women today dress for themselves or to impress other women but beauty is subjective and it is defined by culture. I mean I decided upon utilitarian morality and suits because I stumbled upon the seventh Doctor books at a formative time in my life. I have no doubt that had society determined that the seventh Doctor would be a passive object of desire in lacey swim wear who obediently swooned after his heroic butch female companions that I might have a radically different outlook today. Culture defines our expectations and what we consider good.

I know this because I am bisexual and I find that the men I’m interested in aren’t much different from the men society told me to identify as. What society says you should care about matters. If it didn’t the advertising industry would have stopped existing long ago.

So how do we solve this problem? How do we solve patriarchal momentum? Well I’m not sure we can because I’m not sure women will want to. Their wants and needs are defined by culture and their culture is sexist so what they want is sexist and so what they want will be sexist. It is harder and harder to justify mass protest, riots and strikes for the subtle stuff.

I think the people who most want an end to patriarchal momentum actually are men. Patriarchal momentum privileges women. Remember they have equality or damn near to it legally so they get to exploit the system. Dress as their culture dictates and manipulate men’s desires while using the technically equal system to restrain them if they cause a problem. Sometimes without realising what they are doing. Meanwhile men aren’t believed to be victims of sexual assault even when the man is a kid and the woman is an adult. Men live in terror of being seen as committing assault against women while a woman abusing a man is still laughed at. Most damningly though men lament how hard it is to be sexually objectified.

Sexual Objectification of women is a problem in s ociety. Living with that kind of perpetual animalistic attention is tiring. For men however the opposite problem is frustrating. Men envy women the attention and they get annoyed that they can’t as easily get attention. How often do people criticise women being seen as a man’s reward in stories? Yet rarely do they consider the alternative perspective. That a man feels like he must bring about world peace to be with the one he loves while a woman need only diet, wear the right clothes and put on the right make up. The Marvel films are starting to bring about equality of sexual objectification yet still it is defined by physi8cal strength and it still isn’t enough.

This is why man is obsessed with the penis. Why white men are terrified of black men and why trump felt the need to brag about the size of his penis in a political debate. Fucking astronauts have a serious issue with penis size. This is because man has seized upon the penis as the one area where superficiality plays a massive part. Hence the proliferation of dick picks. This is man desperately trying to innovate and become sexually objectified by the opposite sex yet failing miserably.

Feminism can’t fix this, capitalism can’t fix this and the patriarchy sure as shit won’t fix this. What we need is a new movement, not for sexual liberty but sexual guidance towards to benefit of women. What we need is a moment to counter patriarchal momentum. Grand and mighty people across the grand and mighty spectrums of time and the multiverse I put it to you that what humanity really needs, right now, is a moment for Matriarchal restructuring of the media and politics. The patriarchy has corrupted female culture for far too long and it has left the man it claims to serve lost and without guidance in a new age of equality. We need a matriarchy to design clothes for women that put function over form while designing clothes for men that makes them more appealing to women. We need a matriarchy that privileges women in lead roles and teaches men how to be properly passive love interests. Equality of sexual objectification requires equality of vision and agency, for good and ill.

I’ve said before that the future of society is socialist well maybe the future is also matriarchal. After all does anyone have any better ideas?

Monday, 15 May 2017

Keeping Going

Keeping Going

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


We assume that the natural state of being for a human is living. That it’s logical and rational, how can you think anything different? At least in my case I have found myself writing whole essays expounding on why dying seems like the sane, logical response. Yet I’m still here.

So why am I still here? Why haven’t I given up yet? My world is isolation, anger, pain and tiredness. Frequently I find myself begging for it all to just end. I’m working on a story at the moment and one of the passages I’m writing has the Farsh-nuke agreeing to become the fuck toy of his worst enemy, a man who makes Donald Trump on his worst day look like a saint. What makes a man agree to spend his life getting fucked on a regular basis by that which he despises? Because to save others from discomfort, when your head is filled with a billion reasons you despise yourself, is a no-brainer.

I am no martyr myself. My life is a bulwark against despair, annoyance and inconvenience. Yet still bullshit rains and still I find myself choosing for a life of stress and reasons to be angry over finding salvation in the guiding light of my libido. I could spend my days reading escapist romances about submissive lesbians. I could spend my days writing them. I could exploit the skinner box effect and churn through the bits of video games I find effective. I could cheat to skip the shit and make things fun. I could make my life so much more hedonistic. Instead I wallow in the shit.

I may be a doomed man about to be killed by the capitalist system and I do have to protect myself and my ego to a certain extent but Zarquon help me, this is what I’m good at and it makes me feel alive. I need to feel the buzz of righteous anger. To let myself believe, just for a second, that the darkness I fear about myself could be an invaluable and just asset in dealing with the bastards of the world.

Lets be clear pain and tiredness on their own do not bother me. Oh I made a choice not to live a life of pain so overpowering I could not sleep but today has been a shite day and I have not felt more alive in a while. There is something glorious about pushing your body to the limit. About walking until your feet hurt and then keeping going. About working until your eyes hurt from the lack of blinking and keeping going. About being dog tired and still going.

I live to push myself, to get angry and create, to put myself through the wringer and keep going because there is shit that needs doing and it is so sweet to get that bollocks dealt with. I create. I write. I can’t edit for toffee but I churn stuff out. I close my bedroom door, I open my writing software, put on my writing dressing gown, set the volume low, stick on some kick arse music and I write. In that moment, in that act of writing, I have ceased to be. Alex Jahans the human being becomes a wave function of probability, a messy stream of conscious creation connected up to a machine. In the act of writing, even if I write about myself, to myself, for myself, I no longer exist. I am not a human being, I am a human doing and I do things excellently.

All my snacking and binge eating is to make up for the fact that I regularly have days where I don’t eat for 7 hours in a row, instead relying on regular drink and loo breaks to keep my system ticking over until my act of creation is done. I indulge in KFC, Pizza, Curry and sandwiches when I am able and it feels so great to just relax and eat. Although I prefer to eat alone with something to distract me so I feel no pressure stopping me from grazing.

This binge mentality extends to my TV and Letsplay watching habits. To be engaged by the drama and comedy while importantly feeling like I am increasing my cultural education. You might scoff at the importance of Letsplays and TV as education but frequently I have found my ability to converse greatly helped by advancing my knowledge of pop culture in this way. No more am I the lonely autist relying on Doctor Who to communicate. My lexicon of ideas, concepts and cultural touchstones is massively expanded through these seemingly selfish and lazy recreational pursuits. It also helps of course that so many of them are genuinely enjoyable. That they fire up my imagination and desire to create.

After leaving reading for a while I have returned to it and I cannot help but feel the same binge tendencies of the destruction of the ego and the rush of completion happening there. Yet my reading needs bite to it. It needs to make me angry, to feel important and high stakes. I have TH White’s Once And Future King on my book shelf still with its own bookmark yet I don’t read it because while I love scifi and fantasy I love the stakes of politics. I love how it lets me vent this anger I have kept hidden throughout my life.

And yes, I love women. I am a reformed anti-feminist who has read feminist literature and identifies as a feminist while I rally for their greater representation and equal treatment in society. Yet that just makes it all the sweeter to sexually objectify women in my fiction, to see them sexual objectified elsewhere, in quite a literal sense. I am a bastard, actually no that’s mean to bastards. I am a shithead. I will walk the walk and talk the talk in the real world but in fiction I experience the most overwhelming high from the idea of a strong, powerful, beautiful, intelligent woman with her own agency becoming enamoured with and seduced into becoming a literal object with little to no rights of her own. At least conceptually, I mean I’m still me so in practice while the conceit is that such women have no rights, things are always really - ignorance and drama permitting - safe, sane and consensual, with the woman enjoying everything that happens to her. I think the only thing that eclipses the high I get from this is when I finish writing something fictional.

I used to think that Doctor Who was my religion or that Regulated Capitalism was my faith. I see now that both things no longer apply. Women are my new new religion. They are the angels that give me hope in the world yet also cast judgement upon my soul. The movement of their liberation is my new code to live by and be judged against. They are my heaven and my hell. I live for their praise, their smiles and their affection. I fear for their criticism, condemnation, suffering or displeasure.

All this quasi misogynistic fetishization and elevation of women to the astral plane does not change the fact that I am a bisexual and where I used to just look up to, champion or applaud male heroes, now I frequently fancy them. It helps if they are physically attractive of course. Chris Pratt, Ben Browder, Matt Smith and Jonas Armstrong are four that come to mind very readily. Yet it is more than looks and a geeky charm. I mean Benedict Cumberbatch is widely regarded as a dreamboat, as is Stephen Amell and Chris Hemsworth. Certainly my female friends are quite vocal about that yet for me appreciation of male characters is more than just skin deep.

I am for the improvising comedians with a dark past who make a joke out of it. For the cold hearted manipulative bastards who will absolutely destroy you if you cross them. For the good men who fight with their inner darkness on a regular basis because damn it there is just so much evil in the world and it must be fought. I am for the shattered wrecks who find their worlds destroyed by evil or their own fuckups finding the strength to carry on. I am for the trickster mentor. For the broken survivor going slightly mad but still trying to do the right thing.

I am deeply flawed man and my life a clusterfuck, a massive steaming shiteberg of failure yet I keep going because my life is pain, misery, anger and devastation and I love it. I love the effort, the serenity of being in the flow space, the buzz of completion and the release granted by justification for righteous anger. I live for the women and my desires to do bad things to them with their permission. I live for the flawed broken men who get fucked over by fate, dust themselves off and go back to continue the fight. I live because if I die I won’t get to experience any of this ever again so if I can kick the can down the road I probably will.

I just really, really, really wish well meaning morons who can’t do shit to help would avoid dumping fresh bullshit before me. 

So Shite

So Shite

A Bloggage
By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


So I have two big problems that I need to try and get a handle on. I Try to talk about it, to write about it, but I fail because the enormity so lets be cold.

Problem number 1. I am not sure if I can survive.

Problem number 2. I am not sure if I want to survive

I am not dead yet. I have time. I can kick the can down the road and my life is okay enough. I am not depressed. I am not sad. There is unpleasantness in my existence and I am quietly freaking the fuck out about it but under the circumstances I’d say that’s pretty darned normal.

So...

Problem number 1. 


I can’t get a job because nobody can get a job and I do not have the best chances of getting a job. Even if I secure an interview I fuck it up because I’m honest and despite what people say honesty is not what anybody wants out of an employee, not really. I am not a docile obedient stooge. I do what I believe is right and my skills and experience are qualitatively sub par in almost every avenue.

I am thus reliant on government benefits under a conservative government. This means I feel distinctly fucked. I must maintain regular contact with people if I am to maintain the funds I need to live. This to me is an absurdly dangerous and stupid idea. Even I believed the people trying to help me were good people I do not trust my social skills with my life when they have manifestly displayed time after time the capacity turn people I considered trustworthy friends and allies against me.

It now also seems as if my having a roof over my head will be dependant upon my claiming benefits. It’s ironic really as the ‘disability advisor’ outlined my situation she was clearly trying to sound hopeful and optimistic but could not have more clearly declared my probably death than if she had handed me a prepared death certificate for me to fill in on the day of my inevitable suicide. You know something’s serious when it shows up even amid counter propaganda and here as she talked about giving me hope and how Universal Credit just wanted to help she made clear that I am reliant upon them to keep the money coming in and that I have no danger in going into social housing because I’m claiming benefits thanks to Universal Credit now.

The inexplicable conclusion being that they will be all that stand between me and starvation and homelessness while making clear that this was most definitely not a permanent and reliable state of affairs. That I lack any other option is the only reason I am even giving such a deal with the devil so much as a second’s consideration.


Problem 2. 


Look, my life is okay enough. This is not a terrible existence but this is not something I can stand living forever. I’ve only been unemployed and out of education two years and I am crawling up the fucking walls. Going out is expensive, travelling is expensive, doing anything is expensive. So I hide in my room. I listen to podcasts, I watch letsplays, I read and I write and I hate that this is my only option.

Oh my mother constantly talks about how she’ll pay for me to go out but she vastly underestimates the sums required to have a good time when out and that whilst I am so poor it just makes more sense to invest that money in improving my quality of life at home. I want to be able to go out for coffee or a pint, to see a film or eat an ice cream in the park. I want to be among the normal people. To be normal. Yet while I live this hellish existence I cannot justify the wasted expense because the variety is essential but not when it is a rare gift I feel forced to enjoy.

And I am not well. Two years of near total physical isolation has had a profoundly devastating effect on my ability to tolerate people. Growth Hormone Deficiency leaves me tired and in pain, reliant on meds to keep going. Oh and I am still going through this delayed puberty so I feel like there is a war going on inside myself between the reformed anti-feminist with left over guilt and angst and this fresh persistent nonsensical lust.

Even if things were normal the pain and tiredness would have me questioning the cost/benefit analysis of committing suicide. When I find suicide seems likely to be forced upon me anyway by circumstance then I really feel like what’s the point in fighting it.

Which is where we get to why the man who never edits has written draft after draft of this blog, in a manner of speaking. Suicide is a profoundly depressing and upsetting subject to talk about. I don’t want to die. I want to not have to die. I want the pain and the tiredness to go away. I want to get a well paying job or get a system of support I believe empirically can be relied upon. I just don’t have those options. Nonetheless I have found speaking honestly and candidly about suicide and the prospect of it is a very dangerous and scary thing.

My mother has thought I was manipulating and black mailing her. I must tell her everything but I must not tell her I am suicidal because that is blackmail. At the least if I am to be suicidal then I must conform to societally accepted forms of treatment. I must treat being suicidal as a profound mental illness and get it treated if not medically then with therapy and counselling because clearly my issue is an inability to express my feelings. The reason I have studied politics and the issue of technological unemployment is to see whether I am in fact sane about doubting my chances of employment and doubting the safety of claiming benefits. I believe the evidence shows that I am right to be doubtful of my chances of long term survival on Universal Credit.

Which is when those closest to me then get angry, insisting that I think about how my dying would affect them. Oh sorry. I mean these last two years I’ve been desperately searching for some reason to hope. For some counter to the terrible shite I am facing and I found none. Evidently though the prospect of my own death and suffering just wasn’t enough incentive. Now I know it will effect other people I can totally just pull a job out of my arse. Oh wait, no I can’t because that is an insane idea. I do not seriously consider suicide unless I am severely limited in options so telling me it will upset you does not change the calculus.

Then there are other considerations. Other reasons that caused me to dismiss draft after draft and temper myself. There are worse fates than death. I am an atheist I sincerely believe that when I die my consciousness will end, my experience will cease and the pain will end. There won’t even be anything left of me to be aware that I lost something. My whole life will be like that shower I took when I got dunk drinking alcohol that predated alcoholic units on the bottles. Everything I’ve ever done I won’t remember. Dying to me is not, will not and cannot ever be something to “regret” from a personal perspective because there will be nothing left of me to regret it. I fear not making the most of my life because until the moment of my death I am capable of regret.

Dying therefore is to me a state I cannot “regret” but while I live there actions I can commit that I will regret. I don’t want to leave this world worse than when I came into it. I don’t want to leave behind a mess if I can help it. Yes my dying will cause those close to me emotional distress but there are small things I can do to reduce the fall out. Sort out a will etc... Some things I have been thinking about I’m not even sure I can mention because people can get a little crazy when suicide is brought up.

I have time. I’m not sure how much because I would like to avoid dying entirely and I’m a futurist who thinks the singularity could come about in the next 5 or six decades so I’m not kidding about avoiding dying. The other side of the coin however is the tiredness, the pain and the bullshit of life. So I don’t know. I’ve told myself I’m seeing out the summer or at least until June the 8th but I’m not sure. With the time I’ve got left however I want to leave a positive impact. Not a note, just some videos, blogs and stories that might help in the shit to come.

That’s the other consideration: A storm is coming. Climate change, technological unemployment, unavoidable mass migration and the death of capitalism are all going to hit the world badly in the next 4 decades. Even if I was not facing my personal wall of shite I would be facing the shite right along with you when it falls. Society is going to change radically but things are going to get a lot worse first.

Which is why I say there are worse fates than death. I have been getting political out of desperation to find some answer. The silence from the right wing on the subject of post scarcity is so deafening that I can only think mass starvation and poverty until revolution becomes a genuine threat awaits. The police are already very familiar thanks to nazis stalking my family. I dread to think what could happen if I don’t choose to take a dignified exit before desperation and a sense of having nothing to lose kicks in. I’ve already had to stop myself from writing an article advocating a pseudo- Revolution designed to scare the bejesus out of the establishment without actually being full scale revolution.

Even without the threats posed by a government becoming increasingly Orwellian in power and the nightmares my mind can conjure up about how things might go I do not want to become that person. I didn’t stop writing or publishing that essay out of fear the government would silence me. I stopped because I realised it was a damned stupid idea. Oh yes revolutions are bad things that cause an endless cycle of death and revenge but if I ran one it would be totally different. I’m a moron. I caught myself then but I cannot be certain that I will always be able to stop myself. Fear and desperation changes what you think you are capable of and I never want to be capable of condoning violent revolution. It does not work.

I need the establishment to change peacefully. I need the establishment to wake the fuck up, see the danger it’s in and adapt. I don’t know if I can trust myself to sit quietly by if it fails to do so. Even if I am personally able to navigate Universal Credit without being stung in such a way as I commit suicide I will not let myself be ignorant to the plights of society and I am a man with a ferocious anger management problem when something disagree with my morality.

I don’t have a solution to these problems. I have no solution at all. I’m just kicking the can down the road, distracting myself with things that interest me and hoping that maybe things will get better. After June the 8th, when the conservatives strengthen their majority, that hope of a better world will be much harder to justify. I might have to turn to drink and drugs just to keep myself limping along. Of course if Corbyn gets elected I won’t need to fear my desperation, I won’t fear relying on the state. I’ll be able to live. I mean it’ll still be a shit and precarious existence but I’ll be able to justify it.

So yeah vote Corbyn and the Labour party on June the 8th for the love of fuck.

Anyway I’m not dead yet. 

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman Review

Sunday, 7 May 2017

A Rising Tide

A Rising Tide

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


There is a saying I remember well from my anti-feminist days:

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats

What these feminist defenders failed to realise or neglected to mention is that we are not dealing with a rising tide of freedom. Instead we face a rising tide of shit and the nature of pursuing equality as the shit rises is to pull the opportunity out from under those fortunate to have something to cling to.

I know I’m privileged. I know equality is a good thing objectively from the stand point of utilitarian morality and general progress. I also know that I don’t feel privileged, that equality can feel oppressive.

I have spent the last two years lurching from one disaster and faint hope to the other. I am tired, worn out and quite frankly if I saw the grim reaper coming for me I’d invite him in for tea and crumpets. My day is painkillers, caffeine, forcing myself to exercise, forcing myself to read, forcing myself to socialise and eat. I live for masturbation and video games, for the fantasies of agency and power in a world that seems to grant me none.

I know privilege is intersectional. I know that I don’t measure my privilege against Hilary Clinton but against whatever poor woman can be said to have equivalent circumstances to me. Cataracts in the eyes slowly sending me blind. Rhinitis, Anosmia and Nosebleeds. Kallman’s Syndrome, Growth Hormone Deficiency, Asperger’s Syndrome and Piles.

Do you know what it is like to rely on the taste buds on your tongue but be so dependent on caffeine that you lose what little sense of flavour there is to be gained there and basically end up eating out of habit and survival? Do you know what it is like to wake up and ram pills down your throat to survive the day then still find your feet giving you agony when you get up to clean your teeth?

I hate and detest my life and the only way I cope is with fantasies. Fantasies that I know are problematic. In a world of shit the dregs of society need fantasies of power to keep going.

I am a nerd first and a futurist, writer or political pundit second. I watch, listen to and read reviews because they interest me, because discourse interests me. So many films and TV series have been nowhere near as enjoyable to me as the discourse surrounding them online. Pacific Rim is a well made film, with some fantastic performances but the School of Movies Podcast review of Pacific Rim brings me to the point of tears every damned time. I love reviewers. I love the depth and comedy and heart they find in the stupidest of things. Genuinely.

That said I have noticed a trend in discourse of late. A push for realism and a push for social equilibrium beyond the point of realism. I can see the point and I can see the benefits. I want a female Doctor and I think Gillian Anderson as James Bond would be fantastic. Push the boundaries, experiment and set positive examples so that when future directors and writers want to do less ambitious works involving female leads that it is more acceptable. I want to see consequences for heroes and seeing some genuine examples of well written PTSD after plots would be amazing.

I am not arguing against better representation in film. I am not arguing against exploring new ways to tell stories. I just want some assurances and I think there is evidence from #gamersgate and the red pill movement that others (who I probably don’t want to associate myself with) would like assurances to.

I know there are some right stupid arseholes out there. Historical revisionists and misogynists who believe feminism is a threat to all men. These are fuck wits who garner unprecedented attention and followings because hate breeds controversy, controversy breeds fame and sometimes the arseholes can seem to have a point. I was not an anti-feminist just because I was a colossal douchebag after all. If you shut down conversation of difficult subjects that trouble you, then you concede defeat to the mad fools who won’t stop talking.

I don’t have the answers. I am a mad fool heading to his grave the long way round. I am however a fan of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and aware therefore that sometimes the answer is the easy bit. So I have some questions and a couple of suggestions on how to fight hate instead of fleeing into yet deeper safespaces as the mad fools take over the Earth.

If sex and violence in video games is so corruptive how come rates of violent crime have only continued to drop as they were introduced and matured while humanity was rife with sex and violence for the thousands of years before they existed? If representation is so important why is it a problem when privileged demographics want to safeguard some representation? If the oppressed are allowed safe spaces where they silence opposition why aren’t the privileged?

I am not asking for stop on the feminist fight or even a ceasefire. I have Kallman’s Syndrome in an age when America voted for a party in favour of persecuting against people whose genders don’t fit into predefined cultural definitions and a man who boasted about the size of his penis. I want and feminism to win but that means I need it fighting fit, not doing the socio-cultural equivalent of drowning its sorrows down the pub.

I need feminism not just allowing misogynists and racists into its strongholds so they may be converted but in the process of going out converting racist and misogynist strongholds. Feminism needs to be viral and persuasive. It needs to find every last misogynist and convince him that feminism really is the only answer. Social death is a viable stick to ensure good behaviour but it only works if their social life isn’t composed of misogynists so confident in their beliefs that they are more likely to chase you back to your safe space. I understand why the antifas exist but we need to infiltrate the alt-right and blue pill these lost sheep not grant them the race war they’ve spent centuries preparing for.

Feminism is a broad church and that is its strength but it needs to learn from the Romans and Nazis. You can’t kill an idea with violence. The truth is that regardless of what the radical fringes that made me anti-feminist may think, most feminists do not want a world where every world leader and popular fiction character is female. They don’t even want one where it is most. So make that fucking clear.

Nobody is saying that we never want James Bond or the Doctor to be played by a white man ever again, we’re just saying that we’d like a change. Nobody is really coming to take away your porn. Well except the paternalistic government that has no problem with male ejaculation in film but can’t stand the thought of female ejaculation, presumable because it reminds them how crap they are in bed.

Nerds will always rage at change to the franchises they love but most people just want to know that the things they like will remain. The truth is that the white male hero who gets all the girls will always remain. Saddacts like me can’t help writing him apart from anything else. I know this. I know it objectively, truly, but fuck, look at the world, look at the shitting world and how cocking unlucky to be alive right now? The only things in my life that aren’t shit are videogames, escapist films and thoughts of submissive beautiful women so can you blame me for fearing for these last things? I think I’m not the only one in this situation. A privileged man clinging on to the raggedy edge by the skin of his teeth, terrified about his future, living for problematic fantasies and fiction and terrified that these too will turn to shit.

The ultimate irony of this situation is that there is very much a rising tide that will affect everyone equally but it isn’t feminism and it isn’t positive. Climate change is about to crash down upon humanity while technological unemployment looks poised to finish off the last dregs of the capitalist system, destroying what jobs it can’t automate away but ravaging the weakened global economy. We are all equally fucked. Even those one percenters in their gated communities will soon find that as the last people with anything to lose, they will lose everything.

I began this article with a tone that may have come across as suicidal but I’m a monstrous sadistic douchebag who just happens to be bound by a code of utilitarian morality. I’m rather looking forward to seeing how humanity destroys itself. Remember how we joked that Hilary Clinton versus Donald Trump was Alien versus Predator? Well that’s as nothing to Climate Change versus Technological unemployment. So if you live in a gated community and you make more than £80,000 a year I would invest in body armour, weapons training, Krav Maga and the most badass houseboat money can by. Of course I’d also recommend buying a major newspaper and pumping out articles to raise awareness of climate change and technological unemployment but I’m not sure that would help so save yourself first.

Anyway, I’m going to watch some more 90s comedy. It was a simpler time.

Saturday, 6 May 2017

UK Local Elections 2017

Where Is My Mind

Where Is My Mind

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


I feel as if I have spent the past 6 months on the run.

Late 2016 I could feel my strength returning and I started to rally. I tried to rally. I was saving up for a better gaming pc or the upgrades, then I got an ipad to improve my productivity. A misstep I will admit but the effort and intent was there.

Then Trump, Brexit, my schrodinger’s apprenticeship and allstop for christmass and new year.

Then I tried to rally again, volunteering and universal credit claiming. Except mother came along and - Well somehow I ended with a sick note a bungled UC meeting and dealing with my mother being ill with a cold while I abandoned hope of rallying because mum needed me.

Then mum got worse and I had to step back from youtube. Every week was fresh bullshit.

I feel as though I have been under sustained shellfire. Bullshit after bullshit after bullshit.

Then the bullshit gets made worse as the people who try to support me and claim loudly and repeatedly that they are trying to support me prove to be quite the contrary as just acknowledging my feelings before this supposed support creates more bullshit and more bullshit. Somehow I live.

I mean my savings are spent and my health is shit but I survive and my mother is okay. My future for at least a few months is relatively secured, though it’s UC so I wouldn’t trust it. The storm seems to be easing off but as it does so my own problems have time to surface.

My libido is at war with me. Masturbation isn’t enough. The red mist is more than just sexual. It is a creative surging. Energy flowing for specific ends. When I was in the trenches my rampaging libido acted as a bulwark against despair. When the bullshit rained it created umbrella for my sanity in the form of Amy Pond and countless other muses. Unfortunately while the shelling has stopped I still lack the strength to write the distraction fics required to satisfy and stall such potent energy. I am so very very distracted. The only saving grace being that the tiredness which prevents me writing also prevents it quite consuming me.

As my libido eats me alive and my PTSD is #triggered by the daily bullshit a new neuroses rises to the pack. So long judgement of feminists, stalking by nazis and economic unviability, there is a new king in the playground of my torment and his name is the quarter life crisis.

I am a mess. Objectively. Logically. I have no job, no prospects, no in person social life, no idea where I will be living, no love life and no ability to even stick top a sleep pattern. I am alive out of morbid curiosity for how bad it could get politically, some mild pleasantness in life enough to warrant delaying things and the fact that I have not quite yet run out of economic ability to survive.

That is fine. Plenty of geniuses are messes so I may delude myself I am one. I mean I delude myself that I’m a feminist to cope with the judgement of feminists so I can do the same with being a mess. What I cannot abide though. What has absolutely crossed the line and annoyed the piss out of me is that I am boring.

I am a man with no future and no stability yet my life is a boring monotonous existence of endless repetition. I have preferences regarding own brand ketchups. (Sainsburys has the best ketchup, I prefer it even to Heinz, same with their Diet Coke. [Obviously Heinz don’t make Diet Coke, I was implicitly referring to the Diet Coke made by the Coca Cola corporation. Pepsi can piss off.])

I’ve started drinking tea regularly every day and having breakfast. I have my walks and my reading and oh God do I want to put myself out of my misery now. I thought that if I was going to become boring I would at least have my shit together. I don’t. I am a colossal fucking mess and I want to punch myself for being a boring tit.

I’m so fucking nice and non-confrontational now, except when it comes to politics. I do the exercise and eat veg and walk and all the other good things. I even get regular sex depending on your definition. I have become a mature responsible adult despite being a clusterfuck with no energy who despises everything and is at war with his libido.

And what will be my legacy? Trans people think I’m a nazi. Nazis think I either belong in their camps or running them. Feminists hate me. Caspitalists hate me. Communists hate me. Every joker alive hates me.

I leave behind a shite video channel of shite vlogs watched in majority by people who hate me and that I should surely like flayed were I not bound by the morality they criticise. I leave bend shite fiction that probably breaks copyright and certainly offends.

My life has been one long arduous march from one objective to the next and I have fucked so very many things up as to overshadow whatever minor achievements I may have made. I tried to be good, tell the truth, not be a dick and do the right thing. I tried to strive, tried to compete, tried to be somebody. I tried so hard and now I’m in the muck and I face another long much through the shit and I’m almost disappointed that I’ll probably survive it, barring accidents.

I hate feeling like I have to moderate myself, reign in what I feel because morons may be reading, but suffice to say that I hate that I am now so old and I have achieved so very fucking little personally or professionally. Incidentally JK Rowling, Shakespeare and all the other pretentious arse writers can fuck right off. Love really doesn’t conquer all. It just creates fresh bullshit then ensures you have reason enough to not leave the source of the bullshit showers behind.

I’m going to be 25. Fuck.