mariodecristofano.com

It’s been a goodly while since I had a proper rant. Talk of retailing, computer IT support and websites can grate upon one occasionally, and I have found my website a rather effective form of stress relief, and somewhat less migraine inducing than my other stress relief technique of banging my head rhythmically upon a hard surface. Or even eating cat food whilst listening to Radio 4, blindfolded, my toes dipped in creosote, and having a spoon shoved up my nose. The burning question du jour is of course what in fact I should rant about. No-one has really upset me this past week. Well, no-one that I can rant about here without it getting back to them anyway.

I don’t have to look far to find something to moan about though. If, like me, you have a pre-disposition to being something of a grumpy old fart, then we are at least living in the right place. Britain is a hole isn’t it? What a dump. So, so many things to have a good rant about that it seems a shame to pick only one. So I won’t.

Let’s start with tax shall we? We’ve all got to pay it. Death and taxes and all that. What I would be particularly keen to know is, what extra am I getting from Rushcliffe Borough Council to justify the 12% hike in their share of my council tax this year?

The one thing I do care about is that the council picks up my rubbish on time, but clearly that is far too difficult a task. The recycling collection is a joke. They won’t take cardboard, or plastic. They won’t even take your paper if you put it in a plastic bag in an effort to prevent it from turning into pulp in the rain and blowing around the front garden. What they will do instead, is leave a plasticky tag on your bin telling you that they basically can’t be arsed to do any real recycling. They probably won’t even recycle the tag if I leave it for them. What they will do is park their stupid truck in the worst possible place, a place carefully chosen to cause as much disruption and inconvenience to everyone else as they possibly can.

These self-obsessed do-gooders (doing very little good) sre more interested in pushing their environmental agenda down our throats, rather than actually taking our recycling and doing something about it. Yeah, we get it. We want to recycle - you just make it awkward for us. So instead, we hugely increase our carbon footprint by lugging all our card and plastic packaging to the recycling centre ourselves every week.

Speaking of carbon footprints and driving cars, what the heck is going on with petrol? Price of oil going up my ass. Here’s what’s really happening: all the garages whack on an extra penny per litre every fortnight, and we carry on buying petrol. Then because the government sees the petrol companies turning healthy profits, they think they will dip their filthy fingers into the pot as well, and whack another 2 pence per litre in fuel duty onto the price we pay. Are these people so stupid as to think this is a sensible policy for reducing congestion on our roads? Come on! You’ve got to be kidding?!

We all have to drive our cars, and there will come a point when people simply won’t pay the price any more. Gangs of wild middle aged businessmen will roam the motorways looking for tankers of fuel to rob and sell on the black market. A whole industry of illegal biofuels will spring up, and the government will have absolutely no control.

Ignore the fact that cars amount to less than 5% of carbon pollution in this country. Drivers, are the soft target. Nobody likes to complain in Britain. What are we so scared of? Tax, tax and more tax.

I did a calculation the other day that if I lived in America and earned the same money that I do now, converted at today’s exchange rate, I would be over $600 better off per month. That’s more than £300.

Americans are moaning and bitching about paying $3.79 per gallon. I filled up yesterday at £1.14 per litre, which equates to $8.45 per US gallon. Americans waste huge amounts of fuel with their crappy high displacement engines that manage less HP per CC than the average European lawnmower, and yet they still get to pay petrol prices that we haven’t seen in the UK for upwards of 15 years.

It’s not like my rant has a purpose either. I have no political inclinations. No man-made government will ever cure the world’s ills, and Britain has not just been flushed down the toilet - it’s been through the sewage works and is floating out to sea like the turd it is. A crap country governed by small minded idiots who couldn’t organise a fart in a lift.

So, it doesn’t matter to me which mentally deficient retard is in power -
Rant over. For now.

“Facebook, we have to talk. Things are getting way too complicated and I’m at a point in my life where I don’t want to get tied down. I have friends and a job that are important to me and it’s not fair to any of them that I’m always with you.”
Like a lot of long-term relationships, it’s the little things that wear on you over time. Things you once thought were charming or cute now just annoy the hell out of you.

I’ll admit Facebook swept me off my feet at first. A “What Drink are You” application? Amazing! A whole group dedicated to people don’t like waiting in line? Quirky! The cross-eyed kid from my Grade 2 class that I never talked to tracking me down after all these years? Nostalgic!
But now I ignore my long-lost classmate, I never visit my groups, and I just feel bitter that apparently I’m a Banana Daiquiri.
A lot of the time, a date with Facebook leaves me feeling cheap and unfulfilled.

I realized I had talked to some of my Facebook friends more online than I ever had in person.

I was looking at pictures of my friends’ friends, people I don’t know, at parties I wouldn’t have wanted to go to.

The scary guy that used to throw chairs in my science class was posting about his life, and what he was planning to eat for tea! Every day he’d post. And I was reading them.

I was in a dark place.
And of course, there was the jealousy. Do you know some people have over 1,000 friends? What, are they just giving it away? Friending people they meet on the street, or strangers in bars? Those Facebook sluts! Don’t they have any self-respect? Sure, I add people, but at least I exercise a little self-control. It’s only safe. When you friend someone it’s like you’re friending everyone they’ve ever Facebooked.

Facebook always treated me badly, not giving me enough space and changing the layout behind my back, but I think the relationship really hit the rocks when I spent a summer away from Facebook.

I got a job in an office where Facebook was blocked. Forty hours a week of prime stalking time and I couldn’t even check my profile. But after a couple of weeks of withdrawal sweats, a funny thing happened. I stopped caring that I had been separated from Facebook. I stopped wondering whose status had changed. I didn’t even check it when I got home. I was learning to believe in life after Facebook.

So now I’m cutting Facebook loose. Well, sort of.
Here’s my problem: basically I’m selfish. I want the perks of Facebook without all the commitment.

I don’t want to get pressured into adding the “Hot or Not” application. I don’t want to see the comment the girl I worked with two years ago posted on a picture of her cousin’s baby shower rehearsal. And I do not want to know that the guy who played third clarinet in my junior school band class is “getting crunked on Saturday wooo!”

But I do want to be able to go see Facebook every few days and see my wall posts, check up on friends I actually know, and maybe look at some photo albums.

This means that I just can’t quit Facebook. It wouldn’t stick anyway. The first breakup never does. A few days later, I’d feel guilty and go see what’s on the newsfeed, or Facebook would sheepishly notify me about a message and I’d end up running back. That kind of drama, I just don’t need.

So no, I don’t love you anymore, Facebook. But I hope we can still be friends. Maybe even friends with benefits?

I don’t wear a Bindi! Nor do I fast, or celebrate Ramadam. I dont wear a Turban nor wax lyrical about Allah. There’s a reason for this. Im not Muslim, nor Seekh or Indian or anything else.

I dont raise a flag to the fourth of July, nor do I know the 52 states like the back of my hand, and I dont have ‘thanksgivings’ meals. Do you know why, ? I’m not American.

So as of today, I got very pissed off with everyone and their son who isnt or remotley Irish, when they decided to celebrate St Patricks day, in the pub.

You know, fair enough if your Irish, I understand that, but if your not, I dont understand the excuse to go on the piss. Its like people use the social acceptance that you should have the day off work, and get pissed in a pub. Even if your not Irish.

Perhaps if everyone just concentrated on working 65 hours a week keeping there head down for a few decades instead of using any excuse not to go to work, the country wouldnt be in such a bad state!

Rant over

So it was nice to actually spend some time for me the other evening, and catching up with a friend of mine, over a few continental beers the subject got onto his career. As a potential advertising Guru, I think possibly ‘maverick’ he intends to cycle through Europe on a pushbike. I think the idea is exceptional, but after slapping him across the face with reality, he now realises this kind of thing needs planning. Im currentley looking for thoughts, advice, potential sponsors, plus anyone whose ever done anything like this before. Watch this space, website COMING SOON. Julian Bracey Davis, JBD.com

For when someone we love, experiences pain and suffering, we feel that pain and suffering ourselves. Its important not to punish ourselves for that pain they feel, but to know we have done the right thing by being there to support them.

I haven’t wrote in my blog for sometime, what with work, travel and a social/love life to try and grab balance, its been tight to try and get everything done. Very slowly, I’m getting back to updating my sites more often. Stay tuned. Agghhhhh

If you are a woman, or any semblance, variant, or almost a woman, I command you leave now. This brings me to my first point. All sentences stated by a man should end with a period, and should sound like a command. The occasional Demand is acceptable, but only used as a means to say, “I’m in a good mood, so you only have to do this if you don’t want me to rip off your fingers.” Question marks are completely unacceptable, and are used only by the faint of heart and small of genitalia. These should never even be hinted by a man. Exclamations are nearly as bad. The exclamation point implies that you are surprised by something. A man is NEVER surprised. A real man sees all that is coming, but all that is coming does not see man. Therefore, a man should only cause the exclamation point to come squealing and thrashing from the shocked mouths of others. A man is allowed to yell, as a matter of fact, a man is encouraged to yell, but it should be a booming, roaring, inarticulate noise used only as a means to shock others. This is never followed by an exclamation point but should always be put in boldface font.

Secondly, you would do well on your way to becoming almost as manly as myself by noticing everything as soon as you see it. For instance, if you were half the man as me, you would have already noticed that I am clearly “Working,” as declared by the mood-indicator. Idleness is for ninny-boys. A man is ALWAYS working. It does not matter on what a man is working, but using power-tools will earn you steel-chain and nail points (as men do not eat brownies).

A man should never smell like anything. If, and ONLY IF, a man is intolerably-smelling, he may use a small amount of musk. Whether you are intolerably-smelling or not is determined by the American coin nearest you (yes, it must be American; other coins are sissies). If you put the coin under your arm and Abe’s/George’s/Franklin’s face changes to signal that he is sensing something highly unpleasant in the air around his face, then the odor coming off your body is deemed “intolerable”. Another important tip: NEVER use musk if it is spelled “musque.” This is completely intolerable, and is punishable by a life sentence to the prison that is complete humiliation and ostracism from the world of men. When combined together, the letters “Q”, “U”, and “E” are extremely effeminate. The letter “K” is very manly, as it gets the job done by its own damn self, and doesn’t need the assistance of two other letters to get its point across. It was also invented by the Vikings, a people among the manliest of all human races (but not THE manliest, as they evolved into Europeans). Even their women were more manly than most of today’s men. Also, brushing your teeth is very, very discouraged by all that is man unless you replace the word “brushing” with “shooting” and “teeth” with “those who are not manly enough to shoot others who are not manly.”

Never, ever cry. Ever. Tears have no place on the face of a true man, as they clot the rugged stubble that crowds the lower part of a true man’s face. The closest a man may come to crying is a rough, loud, throaty cough. Nor should you allow others to cry around you. Crying should make you want to punch he/she who is crying. This is acceptable, but avoidable. Violence is always the answer, but most of the time the man should never answer anything.

In order to look like a man, you will wear nothing except the skin of an animal you killed with your bare hands. You must have found this animal in a jungle, the deepest part of a large ocean, or a tropical savanna. The skin of another man is acceptable for this task, as irony is nothing short of awesome and highly masculine. A desert is also acceptable, but only if there is a jungle in the middle of this desert, and a 200-pound animal capable of 70 mph (note: not kmph. The letter K is very manly, but not when used in a European context. Miles are superior to kilometers, as a mile is bigger, and therefore better) in this desert/jungle. If you cannot kill an animal of this sort, you will wear plaid, and it will be covered in sweat-stains.

What else am I forgetting. That was not a question, by the way.

Oh. I know. How to live. You will live by one credo. That is a comMANd. The credo is thus: A man is NEVER wrong. If you disagree with this, you are wrong. This ideal trumps anything you have read thus far, and everything else in your life. Do not question this. Being right is the all-important rule of being a true man. You may occasionally state, “I don’t know,” to avoid being wrong. This should be avoided when possible and should, when necessary, be replaced by only a rugged grunt. Again, a man is never, ever, ever wrong. A man is allowed to change what is considered “right” and “wrong” because the only people who are allowed to judge anyone are those who are completely and interminably righteous, and a man has every right in the world to attempt to make his way on to this list. For a definitive list of those who are interminably righteous, contact me.

Follow the steps contained in this guide and you will one day become a rugged, face-rocking, ass-kicking, cock-punching, violent, awesome, possibly interminably righteous man, as I am. Being a man is not something that is easy, and nor is this guide all-inclusive. Discovery is the key to being a man, and so must you discover all the secrets for your own damn self. You may pass this advice to others, but only if you are manly enough to honorably mention the original creator of all those deserving of the privilege of the capability to grow a beard: me.

Well considering I have a sense of humour, it would appear others dont! My ‘rant’ about women was pretty much a joke, and actually just a post-bump up from previous years, I dont have time presentley to keep this blog constantly updated although it would appear others would like to see some fresh content!

With that in mind, I thought id post a link to a very funny video to keep you entertained until I can think of something more poignant to write.

Dont mess with Pinky the cat. ! completley work safe! Youll need audio

http://gprime.net/video.php/pinkythecat

Now then, Dont get me wrong about women im not against them, I love everything about them, Their smell, their soft voices and their power to make you feel what love really is. But just lately I cant stop thinking of their flaws, minor I agree but true, you might agree you might even find it funny, so with my mum excluded here goes;

Fellow women, before any relationship dont always expect the worst, some of us are really nice youd be suprised. If a relationship accures then please for starters remember that we like hugs and kisses just as much as you do (honest) , dont argue with us when we call you beautiful, we Know your pretty, thats one of the reasons were going out with you!!

Dont go into details about your period, it scares us, and if you do have cramps and we ask you whats wrong, just tell us its that time of month and nothing more!
Dont compare a womens struggle to mens, we never shave our legs get over it. NEVER ask us to put make-up on, its just wrong.
We may not be able to piss straight but atleast we can pee standing up! Just cause you think youre always right, doesnt mean that you dont have to apologize when you do something wrong.
We cant always be spontaneous, so try to help us make the plans sometimes.
Never ask us to beat up another guy for you, cause you might just get what you wish for!!!!

Now listen PMS is not a fucking excuse,
never pretend like you are going to break up with us and laugh when we believe you,
Never kick us in the plums,
Dont ask us to kiss other men, you might be comfortable with your best mate but to us its wrong,
We know youre not always right, but well pretend like you are anyway,
If you want us to put the bastard seat down when were done, you fucking put it up when your done,
And finally we always notice how funny it is after you rip out our heart, stick it down our throat and still want to be friends!!!!!!!!!!!
Call me?

This is scary! Of course, only conceptual, but my belief this is a good indication into where we’re going;

Robot Police Officer

Hi

Those that know me well, or frequent my blog often, will know I’ve been out of action for some time. This was caused by huge security attacks on my own servers, and a big thankyou must go to Hosting Unlimited for providing once again, unparalled technical support, and attention to detail, in helping me out with my many issues.

Over the upcoming days, weeks and months, Ill be posting regular updates and reporting on some very exciting new projects I’m working on.

Stay tuned.