I know the Irish are famed for a charming illogicality; its endearing and quirky. But every now and then I come across examples of this which truly make me despair for the continuance of our race. Our government have made a right balls of our financial system (so I'm told, I am not well informed enough about his to start making compelling arguments) (I know, I know, I am a disgrace, but it's just too depressing), but its the little things, the day-to-day oddities, that really irk me (see my issues with bureaucracy). Today its the new fangled machines standing abreast every bus stop.
Here is an example of the offending technology. In theory, when I first heard of the contraptions, they supposedly monitor the bus and give the information of when exactly it should arrive at your stop. Sounds like a fantastic, useful idea, to save many the weary commuter the anxiety of "Have-I-Have-I-Not" missed the bus syndrome. However, this is not what they do. Instead they give the time the bus is SUPPOSED to arrive at its stop. It does not factor in delays. It gives information ALREADY PROVIDED ON THE ESTABLISHED BUS STOP. It is a technological timetable, not a time keeper. All it saves us from is the effort of manually working out what time the bus is scheduled to arrive. As every Dublin bus traveler knows this is next to useless, as Dublin Buses appearing on scheduled time is an apparition on par with Jesus' second coming; I'll believe it when I see it.
So. I would like to know. WHAT IS THEIR PURPOSE? WHY DOES EVERY BUS STOP HAVE ONE? WHY DOES IT TELL ME MY BUS IS DUE? I KNOW IT DUE. THAT'S NOT THE ISSUE. I WANT TO KNOW BY HOW MANY MINUTES IT WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE LATE.
As the picture suggests, it was raining. My new umbrella had broken in the wind. I very much wanted to go home. I took my frustration out on this, typically Irish, institution and its useless, useless, technologies. I feel this rant was more than justified.
First of all; YAY AMERICA! You guys just keep knockin' em out of the park!
Now, lets talk about the song! Oh my God, I'm so excited!
The first 18 seconds appear to be a shot of a statue of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, writer of the song, if I'm not mistaken. It sets us up nicely for the rest of the video, which is frankly out of this world.
"Look at me and tell me the truth What do you do When people don't know What we go through?"
I think she wants the entire world to rise up-in-arms in abject horror whenever she's slightly mistreated or poorly judged because of her mind-blowing appearance. The opening of the song is a direct accusation against humanity, like Bono and Geldoff done did at Live8. We, as a people, are not doing enough about this pressing issue, and something must be done.
"They see my blond hair, Blue eyes and class, But they don't know, I have a really big heart."
Oh.... They said heart... I thought they were gonna say something else.
"Don't get me wrong, I know that I'm hot, But textbook perfection really takes a lot."
One of the real tear-jerking lines of the song. The thing about being wildly attractive is the real lack of appreciation for all the hard work it takes. I mean, they're doing us a favour, and what do we do? Throw is back in their exfoliated, moisturised faces! They could be putting that time and effort into charity work or getting a good education and they're not. Now WHERE IS THE THANKS, HUH?? You people disgust me.
"We're not perfect and sometimes we lie."
That right there is character depth. Wes Anderson couldn't write personalities that multi-sided and endearing.
"I got the look, I got the butt, But those things don't make me a ____"
Don't make you a what DONT MAKE YOU A WHAT!?!?!
"Just cos I'm pretty, Don't mean I'm dumb I don't care about wits I just wanna have fun."
Uuuhhh. This is a little harder to decipher. At first glance it's hard to distinguish what exactly she's trying to say. I know it looks like she's a complete fucking idiot, who is totally contradicting herself and offending attractive women everywhere by standing for them in this complete and utter massacre she calls a pop song, with her complete disregard and misunderstanding of the English language.. But I probably only think that because I am a raging feminist lesbian.
"People start rumours And say things about me Funny thing is, I didn't go to that party."
This requires a little context; unfortunately we don't have that.
OK now they break down into a little rap bridge thing. Lets do this!
"Why oh why Can't you see You are all Just like me, We make mistakes and get in trouble Now you see our hot girl struggle."
I mean, its a revelation. Take away the beat and this could be a work of poetry, as like all good poetry it allows us a glimpse into the world and uphill battles of others. Its the dilemma of our time, unknown to most and the duty of the truly great (hot) among us to bring it to the attention of the world. These girls are our Ginsberg, God damn it!
"Hot girls we have problems too, We're just like you, Except we're hot."
Wait.... I'm not hot?
WHY ARE THEY IN A FUCKING LIMO?!
Niamh (Rose of Tralee; 1987)
PS. When Dave found out this video was real his response was: "I despair for humanity. Although I do feel for the hot girls." The universal reaction.
This post is a long time coming. I've been stewing over this point for a long time. I'm referring to something that happened during the campaign to find the GOP candidate in America earlier this year. Glitter Bombing is a new technique taken on by a Gay Rights Activist Group called the Glitteratti. I will preface this blog by saying: I think the gays are a great bunch of lads but this does not help them.
The Glitterati is a fucking retarded name. If you want to be seen as a serious activist group don't let the guy dressed as Lady Gaga (in the Bad Romance Video is how I'm imaging him but any outfit will do) pick your name. It sounds like something from a bad, pun based sitcom. It is truly awful and forces you down from the moral high ground.
If you wish to be taken seriously as a group of people with something serious to say, don't be a stereotype. The protester may as well have slapped Romney, called him a "Stupid Betch" and run away with his scarf draped elegantly over his shoulder. Campaigning for equal rights, gay marriage and an end to homophobia only work if you don't stop for a Glitter Fight half way thorugh!
Glitter is not conducive to political change. Not even that but Romney and Santorum promptly continued their speeches; nothing actually happened. If you're going to throw shit, make it heavy. Throwing heavy things is never taken lightly (PUN!!).
Well rant complete and no one cared but I feel better for it!
The Bromance is a trend that has certainly taken off in the last number of years. With so many movies popularising the phenomenon it was never going to be long before the men every were locked in sweaty embrace. I have what would be classified as a Bromance with, oh lets say Eric C, no that's too obvious, E. Conway. For the first semester of this year we were thought of as a couple, with people often commenting if we weren't together. And our "relationship", for lack of a better term, has many of the features of all normal relationships.
Pride
I feel proud of him when people tell me they like him. This rather embarrassing revelation dawned on me on my J1. Eric came over to visit me, obviously he missed me terribly. He had never met my two roommates and as I was working he would be spending a lot of time with them. I was nervous how they would get on, as Eric is so very, very odd. But he was a hit and when this was acknowledged I was stupidly pleased. He had the seal of approval from my oldest friends! This was joyous news. But obviously I didn't let on. Totally played it cool. Did what every normal guy does, kept those emotions inside for months and then wrote them in a blog, just like everyone does.
Jealousy
Starting third year with an entirely new class was initially very daunting. Eric and I having already been bros kinda stuck together, slowly but cautiously getting to know the rest of the group. Thankfully they're all great and Eric took a particular initial shine to Graham. Graham, that wispy haired harlot. Well they quickly became close, sharing private jokes, attending Botany together and even living nearer to each other than Eric and I do. I took this betrayal with quiet indignation, all the time the contempt for this new cheap floozy bubbling just beneath the surface. But as in all these situations I realised I was being petty and jealous and I soon accepted Graham for who he is, a dangerous sexual deviant who must be stopped.
Despite these challenges Bromances everywhere remain strong and ever on the increase. I like to think the future is bright for E. Conway and I, but only time will tell. In the mean time, I think this says everything I cannot.
When I was little my favourite book/movie/general story was Peter Pan. As such, I like to attribute much of my immaturity to this fact. If that man-child never has to grow up then neither do I. Unfortunately, reality, that old kill joy, has other plans and likes to remind me that social expectations don't share my views. I have to take responsibility, pay my way and, most infuriatingly, deal with bureaucracy. I have to deal with bureaucracy all the fucking time. Up until about 17 seconds ago I couldn't even spell bureaucracy. So many conflicting vowels.
I recently had my car NCT'd, it failed for some tire technicality. It is bewildering to me that the NCT as a system exists. Obviously its a fabulously necessary concept, to keep us alive and that. But their methods are just bizarre. They take a look at your car, suggesting they have a lot of know how about the ins-and-outs of how exactly cars work. They make a list of what is wrong with your car. They return your car to you, along with said list, with all the problems they've named still actively in play. You've told me exactly how and why my car is not fit to be on the road, and now you want me to drive away in it to get it fixed somewhere else, instead of fixing it then and there, solving the problem once and for all. Where is the logic in this? Please explain to me how such a charade has been branded with "National"? Ireland please get your stamp of approval off this!
Fuck you bureaucracy.
I, along with nearly everyone else, often find myself in financial dire straits. One evening I was at home, in a pressing need to know how much money was in my account, but without the means to get to an ATM to check. Bank of Ireland, being the savvy, with-the-times institution they are, had been flogging their new online banking service all over town. When I logged on, hoping to get the information I needed immediately, my own personal information about me and my possessions, I was met by several insurmountable barriers. Apparently I needed to earn this information by completing set tasks. Assuming that I would still be able to check my bank balance once I had filled out all the necessary forms, I proceeded with this task. Several hours later, BOI thanks me for my cooperation and informed me they would send me out the necessary pin in 3-4 days. *RageFace*. Two weeks later the pin arrives. But I cannot use it. First I must ring BOI, give them the pin (the one they have generated and sent to me) then answer questions to verify my identity. Listen, Bank of Ireland, you are starting to ask a lot so I can have instant access to what can only amount to about sixteen euro. But I comply, I have an assignment to do, and I can justify this as a grown-up activity, worthy of procrastinating for. I ring BOI, my name is not good enough, they need my account number. I do not know my account number. I hang up. I find my account number. I ring back. I type in my account number. Due to a technical difficulty they cannot connect me to a server. They terminate the call.
