Strange and vivid dream

Last night I had one of those vivid dreams that you awaken from convinced that the events have taken place. I dreamt I had joined the British Army (hence the pic, that’s not me but the sort of thing I used to drive in the RASC  (TA)

The strange thing is that I knew in the dream that I was 64, married to Mrs OMG and working in the job that I have now. But there I was, getting kitted out in my uniform, chatting to the other recruits, skylarking about and generally behaving as I did back in 1963. The other part of the dream was that I kept wandering off and getting lost on this huge military base, which I can see now in my minds eye as if it actually existed.

I don’t read anything into this and I’m not looking for any wierd explanation,  just opening up a blog which says the mind is a strange and beautiful thing the workings of which we can only wonder at.

Focus Pocus.

The intention to check the condition of people drawing incapacity benefit, and to switch those who fail to job seakers allowance, led to a discussion on the BBC during which opponents of the idea protested loudly and repeatedly that there aren’t enough jobs available. This diverted the discussion from the real, and only, issue, whether or not some people are registered for the wrong benefit. The number of jobs available is irrelevant to that point.

Black Looks

On the radio this morning someone announced, with a hint of astonishment in the voice, that the proportion of British prisoners who are black is higher than in the US. Clearly, British police and courts are racist. What other explanation can there be? Well, the result of some recent research in France may provide a clue. Here, it was found that men of sub-Saharan origin were four times more likely to be involved in criminal activity than white men from the same social group. Those of Arab origin were twice as likely than whites. Could there be some connection, perhaps?

Bloggers? Pimply loners, says Marr (D.T 11 10 2010) What say you?

The so-called “citizen journalists” will never offer a real replacement to newspapers and television news, he told Cheltenham Literature Festival.
He said: “Most citizen journalism strikes me as nothing to do with journalism at all.
“A lot of bloggers seem to be socially inadequate, pimpled, single, slightly seedy, bald, cauliflower-nosed, young men sitting in their mother’s basements and ranting. They are very angry people.
“OK – the country is full of very angry people. Many of us are angry people at times. Some of us are angry and drunk. But the so-called citizen journalism is the spewings and rantings of very drunk people late at night.
“It is fantastic at times but it is not going to replace journalism.”
Responding to a question from his audience at Cheltenham Town Hall he added: “Most of the blogging is too angry and too abusive. It is vituperative.
“Terrible things are said on line because they are anonymous. People say things on line that they wouldn’t dream of saying in person.”
Marr was giving a talk about how modern technology is rapidly changing the way people receive news and current affairs information.
He said change is happening frighteningly quickly with newspaper sales slumping as people turn to the internet.
It was a sad fact that the media would be employing fewer journalists as sales of hard copies declined, he said. But he believed that we are in a transitional phase and that in future people will be willing to pay for online news and information in the way that they now do for newspapers and magazines.
“I am spending a lot of money on my iTunes account, I am already buying journalism on line, I am buying information on line, I am buying books on line,” he said.
“Even if you are not going it, your children and your grandchildren will be doing it.”

What a gay day!

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.

As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that ‘Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super.’ On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle. ‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.’

She calmly turned her head and said, ‘In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one.’

To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, ‘Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you… Tray-up, Bitch’