This is a collection of thoughts and statements about things that annoy me. I am a big, angry man. Hear me roar, or piss off and give me peace.

Monday, March 20, 2006

DVD trailer madness

I didn't buy the DVD to watch some damn trailer about why piracy is bad. I bought the fucking DVD, didn't I?

Not only do I have to suffer an un-skippable lecture on "you wouldn't steal shit from here, so don't steal shit from there" lecture, but the DVD in question also had about 5 minutes of unskippable drivel before the main feature came on - and had locked out the menu button on the player.

Rather like the music industry producing crap, and breaking the CD standard by introducing DRM which installs crap on your computer, the film industry is foisting this upon us. People are going to pirate DVDs whether or not you put some warning on it or not. In fact, I am tempted to do so, just so I don't have to view these damn trailers.

If I can't even watch a nice relaxing blood and guts film without being made to feel angry - what hope is there?

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Know Means Know

It seems that girls in Britain are getting just as drunk, if not more so than the guys, and this is leading to problems. A couple of rape claims have recently collapsed in Court when it became obvious that the girls in question had no idea whether they gave consent or not, and thus whether in fact there was any case to answer. This because they were drunk as skunks and what passes for their minds had essentially absented themselves from the proceedings.

Right-thinking folks might get to wondering how in fact such cases got to Court in the first place. The answer of course is that there's a surfeit of people out there looking to do good. These are people without spandex and capes and since they don't need to worry about kryptonite, instead worry about statistics such as that only 6% of men accused of rape are ever found guilty and even fewer proceed to have their balls chopped off in public pour encourager les autres.

Of course they're not so well-versed in statistics as to comprehend that sending no-hoper cases to the Courts is a tactic guaranteed to make the proportion of Guilty cases even lower, or if they are, they reckon that the punishment of going through the Courts system is warranted by the mere accusation. This is a variant on the Dworkinite theory that "Women don't lie about such things" or at least if they do in Britain, presumably they can't remember doing so in the morning.

Sooner of later if such cases are fretted about enough, and sufficient make the dinner time news, they become a political problem. Once they become a political problem, then as we all know, Something Must Be Done.

One doesn't need to be Perry Mason or Oliver Wendell Holmes to see that the basic problem with rape cases is that absent evidence of a hood, a mask, a knife and some wounds, most are going to come down to "He said, she said" and that juries are inevitably going to find themselves unable to ascribe guilt beyond reasonable doubt. Absent the invention of some kind of mind-reading device, things seem doomed to continue in this vein.

Of course there have been suggestions from the more lunatic of those with a tendency to substitute emotion for thinking that men accused of rape should be assumed guilty and be required to prove themselves innocent. Unfortunately such creative thinking has foundered on the rocks of history and principles of jurisprudence. Only those certain that they could never find themselves in the Dock could contemplate such a thing and of course it's assumed that women cannot and do not rape. It's thus no coincidence that such suggestions emanate wholly from the distaff side of the human equation.

Meanwhile the politicians attempt to remake the sundry sexual offences laws to make them sexually equal, or in the parlance of those afraid to have the syllable "sex" pass their lips: "gender neutral". Presumably we'll see at least the possibility of women being accused of raping a drunken man, and this Presumed Guilty nonsense will then become more scarce than logic in a feminist diatribe.

The conclusion is thus that that Something Else Must Be Done and the race is on for candidates.

It has become clear that one non-runner is the idea that women themselves should perhaps retain enough of their wits as to be able to see to their own security, or at the very least, enough that they can remember afterwards whether they said "yes" or "no" or some ejaculation that could have been interpreted in the heat of the moment as one or the other.

This eminently sensible suggestion unfortunately foundered on the established barstool legal principle of "It's me rights innit?" This principle, once successfully deployed in the famous "Contributory Negligence" case overseen by Judge Pickles, asserts that a woman has the right to go out dressed in a handerchief and dishcloth and proceed about her business imperturbed. In the case at hand it's extended to the right of a girlie to get completely out of her tree on a couple of gallons of Aftershock and for her vacated body to be mysteriously transported back to her boudoir in perfect safety.

This neatly combines two modern ideas: that people aren't responsible for their own behaviour and that the world, irrespective of all evidence to the contrary, should provide Perfect Safety to even those inhabitants most determined to behave like utter fools.

Of course we can all happily nod at the theory: yes, in a perfect world a girl should be able to drink herself to near-oblivion and nobody would dream of taking advantage. Unfortunately everyone who already figured out that Andrea Dworkin was a fat woman in dungarees with severe sexual hangups realises that we do not in fact inhabit that perfect world. Furthermore, these people are wont to the suspicion, if not hardened conviction, that women who dress in hankies and girlies who get legless are in fact putting themselves in danger in much the same way as people who witter into their mobile phones in dark alleys instead of maintaining situational awareness.

There are in fact rapists out there who are prepared to take adavantage of a lady in a state of distress, or indeed undress. They aren't huge in number, but for any given woman, it only takes one. Making their hobby easier for them to enjoy with legal impunity isn't doing anyone any favours.

Then there's the more usual situation of both boy and girl being three sheets to the wind. Combined this means nine sheets to the wind rather than six, and that generally means that any communication is down to semaphore. Mixed signals and misunderstood intentions are essentially inevitable under such circumstances and it's no surprise that a goodly number of the 94% majority cases involve copious amounts of alcohol drunk by both parties.

The latest wheeze to combat these awkward factors is to involve posters on walls. The sorts of people who think up such plans are either huge believers in poster on walls or somehow have their pension investments tied up in the oversize printing business. Thus we get posters on racism, sexism, domestic violence (99.99% Of All Men Eat Children Whole) and the everpresent danger that lies in aspartame.

These latest posters will try to tell men, and you can be certain it will be men despite the noble-sounding idea of equality under the sexual offences laws, that unless they receive an unequivocal "Yes!" then they should assume "no". These posters will be condescending in the extreme and will be offensive to the vast majority of men. Still, the authors know that only women can be truly offended, so that won't matter.

Naturally those of us who don't hang around drunken tarts have been applying this model all along, or at least requiring actions that speak louder than words before assuming that for reasons inexplicable, the lady with us has decided that short, fat, bald, bespectacled geeks are sex machines and need to be bedded immediately lest the opportunity pass them by. Not the least mysterious aspect of this is that these sorts of situations don't end in Court.

Clearly the hardened rapist isn't going to be fazed by reading a poster as he pisses, so the question is what effect this will have on your average lad who prefers his sexual dalliances to be with the aforementioned drunken tarts. One doesn't need a Ph.D in Social Science (if indeed there is such a thing) to understand that the odds are overwhelmingly that the lad in question will be sober as a newt too. This knowledge enables us to produce the Police Reconstruction of
Events:

He: Wurheerthen. Erroogauandaeit hen?

Her: meheidspinnin-errooganuahevanotheryin

He : Whdiveewanhen? Wullawhuskydae?

Her: Yeahssokenat.

Which will be as close to establishing a clear "Yes!" as things are ever likely to get, even if either party remembers the conversation in the morning. Put simply: these posters aren't going to help in Court at all.

Perhaps the only way to truly establish consent is to require actual consent forms to be printed and distributed with every form of contraception. Even here though there are problems:

1) Drunken Tarts and their partners are legendary for forgetting contraception and indeed for deploying it in a manner other than as per instructions. The abortion business is booming on the back of this. That people who can't read instructions on how to apply a condom will be able to read, comprehend and sign a legal document is optimism of brobdingnagian proportions.

2) Your average Drunken Tart knows that signing a consent form would make her a woman of easy virtue and she anyway refuses to carry contraception on the same basis.

3) These guys would just collect them, and flash them around school or frame them for the office wall.

Short of chastity belts, the only answer that readily suggests itself is to put the disclaimer on the alcohol containers. Those partaking of alcohol will thus, by their actions, consent to the fact that they might have sex, albeit in the cases above, possibly unknowingly.

The text itself is known to generations of drinkers:

"Alcohol: Getting Dumb and Ugly People Laid Since The Dawn of Time"

Serial shagger demands bigger coucil house

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/newspaper/0,,172-2085941,00.html

Computer says "no"!

I can't believe I just read that... A man with 15 children, and no job is asking for a larger council house...

The family get £2,000 a month in benefits. Mr Philpott, who is unemployed, said that the council had failed him, adding: “I think the country is going down the pan.”


Well, I think we're all in agreement about that. What's even more worrying is what the offspring will turn out to be like - will they follow in the family tradition?

Get a job, you workshy bastard, and stop getting your womenfolk pregnant if you can't support them yourself!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

National Trust opposes wind farm

I read in the Sunday Herald that the National Trust are campaigning against a proposed wind farm on the hill behind Culzean Castle.

Huzzah! Sense! Although one has to ask - which nimrod came up with the idea to site a wind farm overlooking one of our national treasures?

"The trust believes the proposed £20 million wind farm will spoil the view from the castle and put off visitors. “This is the first time the trust has objected to a wind farm, as we generally support renewable energy developments,” regional director Michael Hunter told the Sunday Herald."
No wonder - having seen the mock-ups of the windfarm, there's nothing but windmills on the hill behind Culzean, and it looks hellish.

"Wind farm companies insist they are committed to engaging with communities to agree schemes. “The fact that wind energy is supported by the vast majority of Scots shows how development to date has been welcomed throughout Scotland,” said Maff Smith, chief executive of the Scottish Renewables Forum."

The subsidies that go to folk who site these monstrosities on their land clearly must make it worth their while - but is it worth our while as taxpayers? Probably not... Once I have re-read the paper by the Hume Institute on Wind Farms, I'll add to this entry.