This praying buisness is a lot like sex; some people do it lots, others when they fancy. And of course some not at all. Im in touch with my spiritual side so I mutter a prayer most mornings, albeit through the parched relics of the night before. But what exactly am I doing? Does prayer mean that whilst praying I have a direct line to the Almighty? Or is it merely something I say to 'prepare' myself for the day ahead? A little motivational shunt?
The more I think about it the more questions crop up. You see by asking God to relieve me of some kind of ailment or trouble I keep having to re-live that problem. For example if I had lived through a bad stage in life and craved solace in prayer then I would have to go over that stage each time I put my hands together.
Or are troubles really lifted, or made easier to carry? I think I know the real answer because many of my personal calamities have been soothed away by passing it to more capable and mightier hands but at this moment I feel need to question things.
Even if we were talking to nobody I still think its a good idea to pray. As Ive said it sets you in motion for the rest of the day, helps get priorities in order and think about whats important in life. There's no harm in it and for those who say getting on ones knees is subserviant behaviour (I pray in the bathroom by the way) then I only have one thing to say; if there IS a God you had better be subserviant to Him/Her.
People with no faith in anything beyond the nail tend to mock those who do, and this is fine with me. Afterall they are as much in the dark with regards to the Big Plan as the believers and everyone is FREE to think how they wish. However as with everything else in life I am straying off the path.
I pray not to get into Heaven or whatever its called; I just want a little guidance for the bits of my spirit which have gone astray. And in some ways I use it like I use alcohol.
As for having answers to my post drinking ramblings well its up to me to find them. Im not asking for solutions, just a guiding light or pint of beer to follow when times are rough and I need something stronger than me. I have experienced first hand the workings of God so I know im not talking to myself when I pray. But its personal so I prefer not to preach it from the chimneys and I don't understand those who do.
I will wrap this up here because im beginning to sound like the type of praying lunatics that I have no grain for but yes, I do seek a good path and a little prayer and a lot of beer helps the sand not get in my jeans.
Wednesday 26 May 2010
Friday 21 May 2010
Rock Beats Paper
Crime in Britain is spiralling way out of control. And not only that but manners and behaviour are disappearing too. Teenage 'hoodies' stalk the streets in feral herds looking for weak targets as they swig from strong, white ciders. Lurching about wearing cheap, gold chains and tacky fake designer clothes like they were in Compton and generally making law abiding citizens lives a misery.
And what do we do about it? In short, nothing. We do nothing at all. We hand out petty fines and ASBOs (Anti-Social Behaviour Orders) and hope everything will be fine. Well everything is NOT fine! The very heart of society is being corroded by these vulgar, young thugs and all the authorities can do is dish out useless fines and bits of paper in the hope the cretins will learn from theor 'punishment'. what a joke! A massive slap in the face to everyone who lives by the rules.
There is a cure of course. There is a solution which if brought back and put in place would have these tearaways cowering like the pathetic cowards they are. Bring back corporal (and capital punishment). Order would be restored pretty damned quickly if ASBO's were replaced by birching; and one could be certain that the flogged offender would think long and hard before thinking of returning to his or her wild ways.
I laugh at the social workers and liberal fools who think they do something good. They're just understudies to folly. Caretakers of a broken ideal. And I guffaw even louder when they say corporal/capital punishment is barbaric. No, it is not. What is really barbaric is the way we ignore victims and let the great unwashed thugs drag us under even more. They're laughing at you. As am I.
No order will ever be returned if you persist in molly coddling.
Go to any magistrate court (at least in my neck of the woods) and outside you will see young people laughing, getting drunk/high before entering and going in front of the judge. They even commit further crimes whilst waiting to be sentenced for the ones that brought them to the court! I have seen it with my own eyes. Respect has utterly diminished. Don't think for one second that these types have any regard for you if you happen to be a social worker or whatever lily hearted title you hold. You are being used. You might THINK that you have tools at your disposal to reign these people in but its only an illusion. They are playing authorities like Guitar Hero and the reason the authorities cannot see it is they are blinded by a self inflated belief that they are important, or wield any power.
No, the real power is in the hands of the wild and be warned; if you punish with kid gloves you will be rewarded with a lawlessness such as you have never witnessed before. This country will see courtesy and manners drown in a tide of flat lager and cold ash. And this rot will be difficult to reverse if we contine like this. I already fear we have gone beyond the point of hope.
When will liberals realise that treating yobbish teenagers with 'tender care' only results in chaos and further deteriation? It is NOT working the way that we punish these days. We MUST return to tougher ways because if we don't we WILL be sorry. Some people think they are somehow 'enlightened' if they see beyond corporal and capital punishments. We shall see how enlightened they are when everything they hold dear is suffocated by clouds of fear.
People are already too afraid to venture out at certain times because of loutish behaviour. And its no longer restricted to over zealous pranks and broken windows, there are children walking our streets and parks armed with guns, knives and God knows what else. Admittedly firearms are not as popular (how long this lasts is uncertain) but weapons equally lethal are carried with the same devastating results. Sterner sentences for knife carrying have been brought into effect this is true but should it really take a blade to be found before any sort of decent punishment can be handed down? No it shouldn't, we ought to be able to answer any crime with severity REGARDLESS whether weapons are carried.
Having suits and cotton hearted, yoghurt knitters deal with these violent gangs is only good for one thing; more and more red tape and taps on the wrist while the lager louts run rampant. Its rather like putting chickens in charge of the foxes. The solution is simple; bring in the wolves. Let iron and leather be the tools of punishment and we will see just how paper punishments have failed.
These cider guzzling bandits ignore rules and civilities in favour of communicating via barks and threats. The peaceful approach will always be useless because barking is louder than whimpering, which is what the liberal do-gooders seem content in doing. But they have failed us, this softly softly approach has brought nothing but damage and worse, the most unforgiving of all is that these faint hearts have made more victims with their methods than supporters of harsh punishment ever could. They won't like that of course but its true. Soft sentences send a message that we are fine with criminal behaviour, that we accept it even and by letting thugs go with gentle strokes all that happens is the toll of victims rises.
They should be disgusted at themselves but these smug fools never are. Their heads are too lost in cuckoo land for any semblence of shame to reach. Its all very well trying the humanitarian route but as soon as it reveals any hint of not working then it should be discarded and strict hands resumed.
I am not saying that bringing back the birch or the noose will get rid of crime completely. That is impossible but bringing them back WILL restore some degree of order. Do you really see young gang members going back to their gangs after they've seen one or two of their number flogged publicly? I can almost guarantee they would not.
Sure there would be persistent offenders as nothing stops those aside from a trip to the gallows. But my bet is that we wouldn't need to turn to the rope for crimes like murder and rape if corporal punishment were ever reinstalled because the majority of yobs would have been sufficiently dealt with BEFORE they had any more criminal ideas.
We all know (apart from the liberal dolts) that what we have in place now isn't working. And never will. So lets let the hammers reign again and do away with fines and petty court orders. I'd like to see these cretins waves their whipping scars about in triumph like they do their ASBO.
And what do we do about it? In short, nothing. We do nothing at all. We hand out petty fines and ASBOs (Anti-Social Behaviour Orders) and hope everything will be fine. Well everything is NOT fine! The very heart of society is being corroded by these vulgar, young thugs and all the authorities can do is dish out useless fines and bits of paper in the hope the cretins will learn from theor 'punishment'. what a joke! A massive slap in the face to everyone who lives by the rules.
There is a cure of course. There is a solution which if brought back and put in place would have these tearaways cowering like the pathetic cowards they are. Bring back corporal (and capital punishment). Order would be restored pretty damned quickly if ASBO's were replaced by birching; and one could be certain that the flogged offender would think long and hard before thinking of returning to his or her wild ways.
I laugh at the social workers and liberal fools who think they do something good. They're just understudies to folly. Caretakers of a broken ideal. And I guffaw even louder when they say corporal/capital punishment is barbaric. No, it is not. What is really barbaric is the way we ignore victims and let the great unwashed thugs drag us under even more. They're laughing at you. As am I.
No order will ever be returned if you persist in molly coddling.
Go to any magistrate court (at least in my neck of the woods) and outside you will see young people laughing, getting drunk/high before entering and going in front of the judge. They even commit further crimes whilst waiting to be sentenced for the ones that brought them to the court! I have seen it with my own eyes. Respect has utterly diminished. Don't think for one second that these types have any regard for you if you happen to be a social worker or whatever lily hearted title you hold. You are being used. You might THINK that you have tools at your disposal to reign these people in but its only an illusion. They are playing authorities like Guitar Hero and the reason the authorities cannot see it is they are blinded by a self inflated belief that they are important, or wield any power.
No, the real power is in the hands of the wild and be warned; if you punish with kid gloves you will be rewarded with a lawlessness such as you have never witnessed before. This country will see courtesy and manners drown in a tide of flat lager and cold ash. And this rot will be difficult to reverse if we contine like this. I already fear we have gone beyond the point of hope.
When will liberals realise that treating yobbish teenagers with 'tender care' only results in chaos and further deteriation? It is NOT working the way that we punish these days. We MUST return to tougher ways because if we don't we WILL be sorry. Some people think they are somehow 'enlightened' if they see beyond corporal and capital punishments. We shall see how enlightened they are when everything they hold dear is suffocated by clouds of fear.
People are already too afraid to venture out at certain times because of loutish behaviour. And its no longer restricted to over zealous pranks and broken windows, there are children walking our streets and parks armed with guns, knives and God knows what else. Admittedly firearms are not as popular (how long this lasts is uncertain) but weapons equally lethal are carried with the same devastating results. Sterner sentences for knife carrying have been brought into effect this is true but should it really take a blade to be found before any sort of decent punishment can be handed down? No it shouldn't, we ought to be able to answer any crime with severity REGARDLESS whether weapons are carried.
Having suits and cotton hearted, yoghurt knitters deal with these violent gangs is only good for one thing; more and more red tape and taps on the wrist while the lager louts run rampant. Its rather like putting chickens in charge of the foxes. The solution is simple; bring in the wolves. Let iron and leather be the tools of punishment and we will see just how paper punishments have failed.
These cider guzzling bandits ignore rules and civilities in favour of communicating via barks and threats. The peaceful approach will always be useless because barking is louder than whimpering, which is what the liberal do-gooders seem content in doing. But they have failed us, this softly softly approach has brought nothing but damage and worse, the most unforgiving of all is that these faint hearts have made more victims with their methods than supporters of harsh punishment ever could. They won't like that of course but its true. Soft sentences send a message that we are fine with criminal behaviour, that we accept it even and by letting thugs go with gentle strokes all that happens is the toll of victims rises.
They should be disgusted at themselves but these smug fools never are. Their heads are too lost in cuckoo land for any semblence of shame to reach. Its all very well trying the humanitarian route but as soon as it reveals any hint of not working then it should be discarded and strict hands resumed.
I am not saying that bringing back the birch or the noose will get rid of crime completely. That is impossible but bringing them back WILL restore some degree of order. Do you really see young gang members going back to their gangs after they've seen one or two of their number flogged publicly? I can almost guarantee they would not.
Sure there would be persistent offenders as nothing stops those aside from a trip to the gallows. But my bet is that we wouldn't need to turn to the rope for crimes like murder and rape if corporal punishment were ever reinstalled because the majority of yobs would have been sufficiently dealt with BEFORE they had any more criminal ideas.
We all know (apart from the liberal dolts) that what we have in place now isn't working. And never will. So lets let the hammers reign again and do away with fines and petty court orders. I'd like to see these cretins waves their whipping scars about in triumph like they do their ASBO.
Wednesday 19 May 2010
When Porn Tells Lies
Im going to be honest, I love pornography. I really love pornography. Who doesn't? (Ignoring the usual suspects who shall remain stale by being ignored.) Good pornography livens up a sex life bringing new ideas to the mix, as well as 'relaxing' those odd flat moments. I have never agreed with those funny few who tell us 'Porn Is Wrong' or that it leads to wicked deeds like rape and murder. And yes Im fully aware that serial killer Ted Bundy claimed porn could fuel dangerous perverts but sensible people will ignore him. He was a cowardly murderer who was trying to use psycho babble to stay his execution. That was all.
I have been watching pornography since I was 14 and im sorry to have to inform the nay sayers but it hasn't corrupted me. Not a bit. I do not see women as objects, nor do I mistreat them or go lurking in dark alleys. My diet of bar room lunches and blonde starlets has not crippled my soul. (Well those wet lunches might have scarred a bit but thats a different story.)
However there is a giant BUT to be added to my 'Porn Is Fab' claim and it has a lot to do with the fabulous internet. There are far too many sicker type of videos being uploaded onto regular porn sites. Videos which are not remotely pornographic and are down right disturbing. Who wants to watch fake rapes and videos where women get beaten and abused?
Im not naive, I know there are vile individuals on this planet but when one actually sees what type of things they get up to then it brings it home that much harder. I think many would call them ILL but EVIL is more appropriate a label. Sick people don't delight in beating women, bad people do. There is NO treating these twisted types and purveyors of such despicable filth ought to be jailed for life.
On a different note they give pornography a bad name. If someone new to it were to browse sites with horrible images or videos then they come away disgusted at us ALL when its nothing to do with normal users. The majority of porn viewers do NOT salivate over creepy 'fetishes', we just want a little spice and certainly nothing involving violence or abuse.
Pornography IS good. Too bad a minority who belong in cages are showing it as something to be ashamed to view.
I have been watching pornography since I was 14 and im sorry to have to inform the nay sayers but it hasn't corrupted me. Not a bit. I do not see women as objects, nor do I mistreat them or go lurking in dark alleys. My diet of bar room lunches and blonde starlets has not crippled my soul. (Well those wet lunches might have scarred a bit but thats a different story.)
However there is a giant BUT to be added to my 'Porn Is Fab' claim and it has a lot to do with the fabulous internet. There are far too many sicker type of videos being uploaded onto regular porn sites. Videos which are not remotely pornographic and are down right disturbing. Who wants to watch fake rapes and videos where women get beaten and abused?
Im not naive, I know there are vile individuals on this planet but when one actually sees what type of things they get up to then it brings it home that much harder. I think many would call them ILL but EVIL is more appropriate a label. Sick people don't delight in beating women, bad people do. There is NO treating these twisted types and purveyors of such despicable filth ought to be jailed for life.
On a different note they give pornography a bad name. If someone new to it were to browse sites with horrible images or videos then they come away disgusted at us ALL when its nothing to do with normal users. The majority of porn viewers do NOT salivate over creepy 'fetishes', we just want a little spice and certainly nothing involving violence or abuse.
Pornography IS good. Too bad a minority who belong in cages are showing it as something to be ashamed to view.
Thursday 13 May 2010
By The Skin Of My Blood
Never do anything by half is a tenet I adhere to without fail or compromise. I live at the mercy of extremes and never shy from excess, whatever the outcome. Its not that I have no care for Life because I DO (and Love to Live it) but I see little to no point in moderation. There is no taste in it; moderation is very bland like the white breast meat of chicken. I prefer dark meats along with even darker pleasures.
Some of my habits, such as drinking over 30 alchol units a night, would be considered by some as a deathwish, but it simply is what it is and I cannot abide sticking to one or two glasses when I have gallons swilling in bottles before me. I eat to get full, same as I drink to get drunk. If anything it is GREED that fuels my unhealthy appetite, not death. And a loathing of doing things in halves. Enjoying sensible measures does not appeal at all and while death will surely be the final result, it is not the motive.
I see no fun in having a few glasses of wine with a steak meal. I want ALL the wine, I want ALL the beef, the whole damned cow! My arteries and organs are hardened to such calamity, they shrug it off like they were forged in granite. In fact my body at times DEMANDS the vices that fire my soul.
If I get no satisfaction in only eating one beefburger what is the point? Ditto with anything else I partake of. Of course some people are content in living healthy and staying within sensible boundaries, good luck to them but its not for me. Im having too much fun with a deadly diet. And im not a fool, I understand there will be a price to pay but im willing to pay it. For a fancy time in blood halls and surfing on the light of alcohol I am glad to pay.
Forget about lecturing me on the virtues of water or fruit, I have no time and even less need for calm. Wreckless souls are not dim, we fly at a 1000mph KNOWING one day we will crash like bugs on a cars windscreen but we only ever take a quick glance at the brake before dismissing it completely to carry on ripping through fierce lanes of gluttony.
Its not all howls and giggles however, as years roll on the gathering scars get heavier (both on skin and in spirit) and harder to carry. What used to be minor coughs and headaches become inflamed by near constant abuse and at times it can become a chore to simply focus. The waves are rough and if no proper care is taken, one can find themselves in a hurricane of misery. To live so near to the knuckle takes dedication, demands are high but on the flipside the pleasures outweigh the thunders.
For myself I find no inspiration from walking on a path of moderation because those monsters and demons do not inhabit those routes. There is no 'theatre of the absurd' there, nothing to lift my imagination. I need the demons that dwell within to stir me to write my verses. My creations would be a lot less interesting were they forced to come out from sober realms. Im not this way to live up to a character or fit some stereotypical portrait; this is me, always has been, even before I was aware of what I have.
White meat has never turned me on. I belong in the fetid ranks of fatty tissue and fire water where all things come to life in a sombre yet accurate 'vision'. I sit on the hem of death throwing words into the air before that final drink or pill carries me off to death's heart where I will learn which of my many sermons was closest to being accurate. God love those dangerous toxins because I need them to spin my yarns. My world is a place where hardly anything is taboo, a place where oblivion is welcomed.
I am not running FROM anything, im running INTO things. Obviously excess is no 'absolute teacher' or divine eye opener but it does point you in the direction of certain truths if you keep your eyes open. Sometimes shadows can cast a light and many dark times have revealed answers for me.
Most people are content in moderation and are quite happy for the longer life that stems from wise limits. But its not for me and if sticking to goose fat and gin wittles my years to nothing then im grateful because a long life on earth will do me no good. I am not depressed and neither am I suicidal, I Love Life to its giddy hilt but in the same breath I also KNOW that a short quality filled snifter of it will do me more of a favour than dragging my wheezing frame through to its twilight years.
I have discovered so many different channels by living under the bottles beak and in the spot where the fragile seed landed all those years ago now stands a firmly rooted tree, displaying a multitude of branches of all persuasions. And when these roots wither from bitter juices my bark will not frown like most other barks seem to do. It will glisten like the scales on a carp.
Some of my habits, such as drinking over 30 alchol units a night, would be considered by some as a deathwish, but it simply is what it is and I cannot abide sticking to one or two glasses when I have gallons swilling in bottles before me. I eat to get full, same as I drink to get drunk. If anything it is GREED that fuels my unhealthy appetite, not death. And a loathing of doing things in halves. Enjoying sensible measures does not appeal at all and while death will surely be the final result, it is not the motive.
I see no fun in having a few glasses of wine with a steak meal. I want ALL the wine, I want ALL the beef, the whole damned cow! My arteries and organs are hardened to such calamity, they shrug it off like they were forged in granite. In fact my body at times DEMANDS the vices that fire my soul.
If I get no satisfaction in only eating one beefburger what is the point? Ditto with anything else I partake of. Of course some people are content in living healthy and staying within sensible boundaries, good luck to them but its not for me. Im having too much fun with a deadly diet. And im not a fool, I understand there will be a price to pay but im willing to pay it. For a fancy time in blood halls and surfing on the light of alcohol I am glad to pay.
Forget about lecturing me on the virtues of water or fruit, I have no time and even less need for calm. Wreckless souls are not dim, we fly at a 1000mph KNOWING one day we will crash like bugs on a cars windscreen but we only ever take a quick glance at the brake before dismissing it completely to carry on ripping through fierce lanes of gluttony.
Its not all howls and giggles however, as years roll on the gathering scars get heavier (both on skin and in spirit) and harder to carry. What used to be minor coughs and headaches become inflamed by near constant abuse and at times it can become a chore to simply focus. The waves are rough and if no proper care is taken, one can find themselves in a hurricane of misery. To live so near to the knuckle takes dedication, demands are high but on the flipside the pleasures outweigh the thunders.
For myself I find no inspiration from walking on a path of moderation because those monsters and demons do not inhabit those routes. There is no 'theatre of the absurd' there, nothing to lift my imagination. I need the demons that dwell within to stir me to write my verses. My creations would be a lot less interesting were they forced to come out from sober realms. Im not this way to live up to a character or fit some stereotypical portrait; this is me, always has been, even before I was aware of what I have.
White meat has never turned me on. I belong in the fetid ranks of fatty tissue and fire water where all things come to life in a sombre yet accurate 'vision'. I sit on the hem of death throwing words into the air before that final drink or pill carries me off to death's heart where I will learn which of my many sermons was closest to being accurate. God love those dangerous toxins because I need them to spin my yarns. My world is a place where hardly anything is taboo, a place where oblivion is welcomed.
I am not running FROM anything, im running INTO things. Obviously excess is no 'absolute teacher' or divine eye opener but it does point you in the direction of certain truths if you keep your eyes open. Sometimes shadows can cast a light and many dark times have revealed answers for me.
Most people are content in moderation and are quite happy for the longer life that stems from wise limits. But its not for me and if sticking to goose fat and gin wittles my years to nothing then im grateful because a long life on earth will do me no good. I am not depressed and neither am I suicidal, I Love Life to its giddy hilt but in the same breath I also KNOW that a short quality filled snifter of it will do me more of a favour than dragging my wheezing frame through to its twilight years.
I have discovered so many different channels by living under the bottles beak and in the spot where the fragile seed landed all those years ago now stands a firmly rooted tree, displaying a multitude of branches of all persuasions. And when these roots wither from bitter juices my bark will not frown like most other barks seem to do. It will glisten like the scales on a carp.
Sunday 9 May 2010
Conning Hood
Now that yet another film about Robin Hood (will it ever end?)is about to hit the silver screen I feel something pulling at my blog-strings and it needs to be splashed over this smaller screen.
I have never subscribed to all that 'rob from the rich, give to the poor' malarkey which the Hood tales are intent on spouting. It reeks of a thief having some kind of heart, yet at the very core of 'thiefdom', dwelling in its inner mechanics, the heart is merciless (in the ribcage of a thief).
You see to me, the main ingredient in the 'soul recipe' for cooking up a bandit is GREED, and as long as GREED has a hand in the proceeedings then any notion of a 'thief with a heart' flies out the castle window. Even if one were to argue that Hood and his merry men (its all sounding increasingly iffy) had made enough loot to be able to share the spoils with the poor, their very natures would forbid them.
I know im waxing way too seriously about what should be a happy tale about jolly highway men striking a blow for the poor and put-upon people, but I don't care. If Robin Hood ever really lived in his cosy tree house in Sherwood forest then the laws of banditry dictate that he (along with his merry men)was a cad who never threw a shilling to the poor.
I have never subscribed to all that 'rob from the rich, give to the poor' malarkey which the Hood tales are intent on spouting. It reeks of a thief having some kind of heart, yet at the very core of 'thiefdom', dwelling in its inner mechanics, the heart is merciless (in the ribcage of a thief).
You see to me, the main ingredient in the 'soul recipe' for cooking up a bandit is GREED, and as long as GREED has a hand in the proceeedings then any notion of a 'thief with a heart' flies out the castle window. Even if one were to argue that Hood and his merry men (its all sounding increasingly iffy) had made enough loot to be able to share the spoils with the poor, their very natures would forbid them.
I know im waxing way too seriously about what should be a happy tale about jolly highway men striking a blow for the poor and put-upon people, but I don't care. If Robin Hood ever really lived in his cosy tree house in Sherwood forest then the laws of banditry dictate that he (along with his merry men)was a cad who never threw a shilling to the poor.
Saturday 8 May 2010
Chaucer Invaders
Imagine this on an arcade cabinet screen, twinkling like multicoloured berets in dark sands;
**** Todays Hi Scores ****
100,000 Shakespeare
80,000 Byron
65,000 Plath
50,000 Larkin
40,000 Pollack
35,000 Keats
20,000 Behan
Now there are those who would snobbishly scoff at the idea of writers or painters playing videogames. (Or 'wasting their time' as these wet dogs would no doubt say.) They would be too intent on other things, with minds somewhere among the clouds they'd insist, but I beg to differ. Artists of yesteryear did not indulge because games didn't exist back then, they were science fiction. But had they been around they would have done. Bet on it.
On slow days when the word bug was taking a sabbatical, I can easily picture Philip Larkin collecting orbs in Warhammer, or Oscar Wilde twisting Mario's knobs. Or Hemingway spilling his drink whilst roughing up Level 6 of Pac-Man. And why not? They partook of everything else on offer and videogames these days are not the exclusive realm of teenagers. They have found a new gear and today its not only about shooting things out of the sky. There is fine storytelling and great artistry to be found in the console world and Keats, Coleridge and the guys would have loved it.
What better way to spend a Laudanum break than break out a spot of Soul Calibur or Crazy Taxi? Writer's block getting you down? Need to burn off that amphetamine/gin cocktail? Then Guitar Hero is your game. (And honestly, who couldn't imagine Lord Byron rocking out to Welcome To The Jungle?)
The thing is, too many people take the authors of classic literature (or even humble old good literature) much too seriously. In reality the arcade cabinets would have a-calling the letter peckers as loudly in 1810 as today in 2010. Afterall, artists live for high scores and those glitter epitomes they carry.
**** Todays Hi Scores ****
100,000 Shakespeare
80,000 Byron
65,000 Plath
50,000 Larkin
40,000 Pollack
35,000 Keats
20,000 Behan
Now there are those who would snobbishly scoff at the idea of writers or painters playing videogames. (Or 'wasting their time' as these wet dogs would no doubt say.) They would be too intent on other things, with minds somewhere among the clouds they'd insist, but I beg to differ. Artists of yesteryear did not indulge because games didn't exist back then, they were science fiction. But had they been around they would have done. Bet on it.
On slow days when the word bug was taking a sabbatical, I can easily picture Philip Larkin collecting orbs in Warhammer, or Oscar Wilde twisting Mario's knobs. Or Hemingway spilling his drink whilst roughing up Level 6 of Pac-Man. And why not? They partook of everything else on offer and videogames these days are not the exclusive realm of teenagers. They have found a new gear and today its not only about shooting things out of the sky. There is fine storytelling and great artistry to be found in the console world and Keats, Coleridge and the guys would have loved it.
What better way to spend a Laudanum break than break out a spot of Soul Calibur or Crazy Taxi? Writer's block getting you down? Need to burn off that amphetamine/gin cocktail? Then Guitar Hero is your game. (And honestly, who couldn't imagine Lord Byron rocking out to Welcome To The Jungle?)
The thing is, too many people take the authors of classic literature (or even humble old good literature) much too seriously. In reality the arcade cabinets would have a-calling the letter peckers as loudly in 1810 as today in 2010. Afterall, artists live for high scores and those glitter epitomes they carry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
