Me.

Me. Who is me? Who are I? Who be myself? 

I don't know. I'm very much the same as everyone else in so much as I am the same amount of different to others as others are to me and each other. I like to think I'm a bit more different, though, as everyone seems to do. 

But what makes me different in my head and my head only? Intellect, I want to believe. I want to believe I'm an intellectual, and there is supporting evidence for this dangerous claim, a claim too dangerous to make seriously. 

What else, though? Humour. I think I'm funnier than you, and probably everyone you've ever met and will ever meet. I'm kind of resting on my laurels with that one, though. I'm not as actively funny as I used to be but on occasion I can whip out a snappy line or two. I do hope that this trait gets me far in the ol' life, but it's not guaranteed to do so at all. I need to be funnier, for sure, but I've got the raw talent...

I've got things to say but I'm too lazy to say them. I'm quite happy with my mind, as you can see, but I need to sort some other things out soon.

Summer Olympic Games 2012

Umm...yeah. They were...umm...yeah.

Fuck, they were good. All the way through. All over. The races, the bravado, the Bolts, the Phelpses, the Hoys, the rowing, the ceremonies, the Cycling, the Trotts, the Graingerses, the Kennys, the city, the coverage, the Twitter, the Ennises, the Gabby Logans. All of it.

The spirit! There was a spirit. People were happy. We were in a team, there was a common goal. Twitter was full of joy. Athletes were outdoing themselves. It was all just absolutely glorious. 

Best Olympics ever. 

Idiots.

There are a lot of idiots around the planet. Idiocy is far from an exclusive club but the continuing rise of numbers is a credit to those who seek to raise idiots.

The first batch of idiots I'm thinking of are those that are calling for capital punishment to be brought back after the Tia Sharpe case. I can't say how numerous these people are, social networks do make it hard to judge this kind of thing, but I can tell you that their knee-jerk reaction is a disgrace. Of course, the case is horrific and I do believe those responsible deserve all that comes to them. (Note that I didn't jump to my own conclusions about who that is.) The idea, however, that bringing back capital punishment is a way to deal with such people is just ridiculous. This is the 21st century in a civilised country. Aside from the sheer statistical evidence that capital punishment does not deter criminals from being criminals, the idea that it is a morally just action is just something I cannot comprehend. It is not up to courts to decide who lives and who dies. It is not up to the public to decide who lives and who dies. It is not up to anybody to decide who lives and who dies. If it is okay for people to decide who lives and who dies, why is a murderer even prosecuted at all? He's no better and no worse than those who are prosecuting. Taking lives is an abhorrent and disgusting thing to do, whether you do it with a gun or a gavel.

The next batch are those who have chosen to vilify footballers whilst watching the Olympics. The "footballers are overpaid" argument is now so dull I'm not sure who even brings it up anymore. They're paid handsomely for providing entertainment to people who choose to do so. I don't see a problem there at all. Contrary to seemingly popular belief, their pay does not come from the same pot as a soldier's does. That comparison is ludicrous (and seems more of a stunt for attention when brought up than an attempt to empathise with a soldier's fiscal problems). The other problem is people complaining about the cuntishness of footballers compared with the humble and graceful athletes on display at the Olympics. HAVE THESE PEOPLE SEEN USAIN BOLT OR YOHAN BLAKE? Two of the most arrogant and cocky people that have ever existed. Sure, there are some lovely British athletes who are a credit to their sports, but there are some decent footballers too. People complain about footballers' party boy lifestyles and the fact  that they are not role models to kids. The Olympic village is nothing short an ORGY most of the time, and as soon as the athletes are finished their events (or halfway through if they are Bolt) they instantly transform into party mode and hit the town harder than most footballers would. People also seem to forget that footballers train extremely hard every day and this is something that should be projected onto the youth. Most footballers are fine role models, and nobody really wants to be like the ones who are not.

So, yeah, those are the two (very specific) groups of people who have annoyed me rather greatly today. I'm sure I'll be annoyed about very different and equally idiotic people tomorrow.

Niceness vs Necessity

That title is something that's crossed my mind today, but it's not the point of this post. So let's move on. 

There was a bit of drama in my street earlier on today. It was all a big kerfuffle that came to a head when a lady was taken away in a body bag. It wasn't nice, and I won't make light of it at all.

It did make me think, though, as death always does. The temporary nature of everything. The brevity of existence. The futility of life. All things typical of a standard existential crisis, I believe. It's not something I can really put down on paper, nor would I really want to. There's a swirl of typical morbidity going on up there and it's hard to translate into the ol'  language. 

If you look up the second half of the lyrics to "On My Way To Work", then you'll see that it's a good song. Oh, and it describes some of the feelings well. WITH SOME SCREAMING.

The nature of death is extremely interesting, but I doubt I have any perspective on it that hasn't been noted before. It comes with life and there's no escaping it, but that shouldn't mean that life is a slow descend into its jaws. Enjoy yourself. Always enjoy yourself. 

"Do whatever you want". - Me.

(I need to start making these longer. I need to stop writing these at 3am.)

The difficult second blog post...

This actually isn't difficult. It's pointless, certainly. But it isn't difficult. Stream of consciousness writing requires only consciousness which is something most (not all) people seem to have in plentiful supply.

Pointless, though. Definitely pointless. Nobody's reading this. I don't think for a second anyone ever will. Which is exciting, in a way. This is a great lost journal. Like Anne Frank's Diary...if that was lost.

But let's not dwell on the details. I like writing, so I should do it for myself. I'm doing Advanced Higher English this year too, so this kind of thing is vital (they'll tell you).

Anyway, what an eventless day. That's an order of magnitude lower than 'uneventful'. Nothing happened. People will try to dispute that but that is fact. Life was cryogenically frozen just for today.

I had a McDonald's. Double cheeseburger, chips and coke.

I'll end this with a little album review of an album that's not new or hot. The Antlers are a band I've always meant to get round to, but have been put on the backburner while I slit my wrists and listen to other depressing music. Wow, though. Wow. I can't quite be sure that I've just listened to a masterpiece, but I'm confident enough to say that it is a fucking goddamn masterpiece for chrissake. Moving, lovely, lively, emotional, shit, fuck.

God this is shit.

So this is Blooger?

This is the third time I've created a blog. I'll create a 4th soon. This is the first one on 'Blooger', though, so it could run and run for all I know.

The first post is easy, of course. You can be awfully self-referential about the reasons you're creating the blog and also employ some blinding self-deprecation about the lack of quality you'll find on it. That's how I always start these anyway. Maybe I shouldn't this time for a bit of a change but I've already written two short paragraphs and there's no way in hell I can go back now.

You may be wondering why I've not used Blooger before now, as I mentioned that this is my first time roughly 30 seconds ago (depending on how fast you can read). I was using Tumblr before because that was and is the 'hip' thing for the 'hip' youths. My posts kind of didn't fit in there as I wasn't reposting hacky filtered or pseudo-meaningful photographs. I was posting pure comedy gold, much like I'm doing now. Tumblr is no place for intellectuals like us. Us being me. Us could be you too.

I called this website 'Blooger' on purpose earlier. It's a mixture of the words 'Blogger' and 'booger', but it's not a strong piece of material - not least because I'd never use the word 'booger' myself. I'd use 'snot' or 'green shit', but never 'bogey' or 'booger'. It's for this reason that I always felt somewhat left out by Dick and Dom when they'd play the 'Bogies' game. I felt joining in would be a lie because I'd never normally use that word. If I would never use it at a normal volume, screaming it at the top of my lungs is just inexcusable. I'd be compromising the vocabulary I feel comfortable with and the whole puerile escapade would not be inkeeping with the character and personality I'd created hitherto.

I assumed there that everyone knows what the 'Bogies' game is/was. I don't know if it's still played, but I do know that it is/was rubbish. They play a variant of it in the film '500 Days of Summer', which brings me on to my next point. 

I love '500 Days of Summer'.