A 'Planned' Break

A quick break from Chillies (gasp!) to talk about another of my interests in life: architecture and urbanism (where, much like chillies, you don't really know how hot and spicy a topic is going to be until you bite down on it.).

I've been asking myself of late as to the motivation behind my love for 'the built environment' (more now thanks to the stress of my dissertation and the lack of time I have at the moment to properly give it my all).

I guess thinking of home (Aji Chombo Land) was one of my main reasons for becoming enamored with the topic.

Bit of a strange thing, since, and I write this in earnest, it can at times be an amazingly ugly city.

Traffic Jams left and right. People building what they want, where they want. One hundred buildings over 40 stories high...

...and not a single fire engine that can reach even the middle floors in the event of a fire.

:-/

But this is, in my optimistic eyes, the diamond in the rough.

All of the grime that covers urban planning in AC Land needs to be lifted so that the true beauty of the city (and indeed the country) may be fully appreciated.

And there is a lot to appreciate.

I love the challenges inherently present in cities.

Cities have order and chaos, euphony and cacophony. There is motion, change and evolution within them, and at the same time, there are elements that remain as constant and ever present as the sun.

Looking at a city and seeing ways to clear the clutter.

That is what I love.

It's not so much about establishing order as it is about solving problems.

Or better still:

identifying the potential for problems so that they do not happen in the first place (after all, problems only occur when we don't foresee them and stop them from materializing).

Bizarre and beautiful dance this is, urbanism.

Because it never depends on one person, either (can you imagine if dancing was limited to one person in a vast space?)

Much like in dancing, you will most likely have a partner. Much like in dancing, there will be other couples of varying degrees of experience on the dance floor with you, and rest assured, heels will be clipped and toes will be stepped on.

But it cam be immeasurably rewarding if 'the rhythm gets you'.

It is a convoluted thing, planning.

But one which I enjoy thoroughly.

In a convoluted way...

:-)

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Yep.

It's another one of those days.

Tomorrow, J from the office will be eating the Trinidad Scorpion pod. That should be extremely interesting.

Today I went to a Service Seminar sponsored by work.

It seems staff are not 100% knowledgeable about providing that 'Wow!' that the service industry requires (I know, I know. But Aji Chombo, you work in a LIBRARY within an 'educational institution'. It seems educational institutions are also a part of the service industry. I would feel much more comfortable if we just called them what they are: Bu$ine$$e$. Rather than sugar-coat it to the young and impressionable masses whose money we w....I mean who we seek to enrich with the knowledge and training that can only be afforded by a top class educational institution.)

But I digress.

The Seminar was all right. It was neither as bad as other people made it out to be (I was seriously thinking it was going to be happy-clappy rubbish), nor was it revolutionary enough in the knowledge it imparted to make me want to quit my sarcastic ways completely and devote my life to being the model employee.

Somewhere in the middle is fine by me for the time being.

At the end of the seminar, as I walked to the supermarket (yes, the place where they still can't tell a Spring Onion from a Tomato), I bumped into one of my colleagues from the seminar (there were people from all sorts of departments). She and her husband were helping to look for a Dalmatian pup which has somehow gotten free from the collar of their owners. I decided to walk up the street I normally walk down to (parallel to the one the dog was reported to have run up), just to see if the dog might have entered the large construction area next to it.

No biggie, I told myself. Just a fifty foot walk from the door to TESCO.

And lo and behold, in the parking lot a few feet further from the construction site:

The pup (rather large one at that).

I motioned for it to come to me, crouching down.

Predictably, the dog bolted in the opposite direction.

After running around like a headless chicken for about 5 minutes inside the little parking lot (me), the dog then ran up the road, further away from the commotion and towards a larger avenue.

I gave chase, though winded. I thought to myself:

'Surely, this dog will be disorientated and will tire easily.'

U-huh.

Dalmatians, it seems, are much like sharks. They need to keep moving constantly, or will turn a solid colour.

This one also seemed a bit deaf, since it paid no attention to me calling to it.

To make a long story short, it managed to jog (with me thirty feet behind) all the way to within a few feet of the building I live in, which is about five blocks from TESCO.

Only for it to turn and sprint back in the direction it had just come from.

:-/

I continued to give chase, albeit now with the impetus of a very old man with chronic pneumonia walking up a steep incline.

Last I saw of the bitch (it was a female dog, so I am within the correct terminology to refer to it as such) was its 'waggily' tail as it turned another corner on the maze of small streets in the neighbourhood near my flat.

I limped back to TESCO defeated, and with heavy cramps in both legs and oddly enough, in my right triceps (how that happened while running is beyond me).

I bumped into my colleague in TESCO, and told her what happened, and both had a laugh (mine was more a mask to hide the severe lack of physical condition and wincing pain I am in). As she left, she said:

'You know why we did this. It was because of the seminar.'

I replied vehemently:

'I would have still done it for a dog, regardless of the seminar.'

In hindsight, it sounded rather presumptuous, goodie-two-shoes of me, almost as if I was some sort of Acolyte of Francis of Assisi (patron saint of Animals), and if I have to be honest, while there was truth in the sentiment (I routinely find myself having to rescue animals left and right, though half the time I may not want to touch them. So maybe there is some truth to this acolyte nonsense), had I not asked what was going on when I bumped into my colleague, I probably would have been on my merry way, clueless to the missing canine.

So there you have it. Twenty minutes heavy jog with a rucksack (backpack), soaked jeans, a missing Dalmatian, and a Service Seminar.

And I complain about boring days.

I might invest in a Dalmatian snare for next time (and then the pet will probably be a reticulated python)...

The Kids Aren't All Right

Es una tragedia ver como la juventud de hoy se separa mas y mas de la naturaleza, prefiriendo en vez la atraccion de la supuesta 'vida facil' que nos ofrecen los avances tecnologicos.

This is a particularly grating issue for me (The above rant in Spanish).

I pass by my local supermarket (a Tesco) pretty much every other day, to pick up little things we run out of in the house.

Of late, there has been an ever increasing number of young people working at the tills or 'cajeros'.

Sin duda esto se debe a la recesion economica que esta afectando a la mayor parte del planeta.

What has been shocking, though, has been the fact that over the course of the past two weeks, as I've had to interact with about half a dozen young employees (I would say they are in their late teens), I have come to realize a sad truth:

The can't tell their Leeks (Puerro) from their Butternut Squash (Calabaza).

It may just be me being my usual 'cranky old fool', but I felt really sad and embarrassed for these young people, who simply have no idea what vegetable or fruit are.

These weren't exotic fruit and veg. They were simple, every day use vegetables in English cuisine (or Welsh if you're referring about the Leeks). More importantly, they are everyday items stocked by the supermarkets they work in (Tesco, please take note of this PLEEEEEEASE train your staff to know what they are selling).

At least one of them looked at me and semi-confidently said 'This is a Sweet Potato, yeah?'.

Maybe I demand too much. Maybe I shouldn't ask today's generation to be knowledgeable of what they eat and how it is grown.

Maybe I have watched too many television programmes about people who simply don't know that food comes from a more rich, beautiful and at the same time tragic diversity of locations. That our food is part of a cycle that transcends geographic, ethnic, religious, and political boundaries, yet is inevitably bound to them.

Food is much more than simple flash packaging!

It is much more than potato crisps (chips to the yanks)!

It is life!

Go Food! (glorious food! ;-P)

Where have all the good puns gone?!

I've been having a quick look at the blog and some of the old posts, particularly last year at about this time, and I can't believe that I've gotten so BORING since then.

Sheesh! my imagination was in full swing back then, interjecting to and fro and mixing life and chillies with gusto and panache!

And now, I'm just a bored, bored man...

...not bored enough not to laugh at France's predicament, though.

As I sit here at work and read the fifa.com website's second by second action of France's last match of the group stages, I can only laugh (or cry) at their situation. They should have solved all of this years ago...but that's what you get when you have a coach who decides starting lineups based on the zodiac!

Bah!

I only chose the Panini albums...

...or tea leaves.

Went to Jamie's Italian in Liverpool two weeks ago as a pre-opening. Took Almapaprika for a treat. We started the experience in not the best of manners (Waitress, there's an unnecessary apostrophe in the word starter's), followed by a lovely meal in which, for the first time in my life whilst eating or attempting to cook a Jamie Oliver dish, there were no BP Deep Water Horizon sized amounts of olive oil drenching it (Jamie, if you read this blog, please, give it a rest. Olive oil is not the 'universal lubricant' and no, my coffee would not be better with a 'little drizzle of Olive oil.) Although I'm pretty sure the chefs managed to sneak in a gallon or two of the stuff into my little pot of 'Basil Tar tare Sauce' for my fried fish which was so utterly rich I had to leave most of it.

While it was an entertaining afternoon, we both left the restaurant feeling Jamie's vision of 'good honest food' was a bit of a sham and a facade for the man wanting to make some serious cash (and who can blame him). Case in point: we ordered some CRUNCHY STUFFED ASCOLANA OLIVES, which were £4.25 for a plate of five olives, not knowing they were the same delicious ones we had ordered on our last night in Rome in a little pizzeria in the Trastevere neighbourhood.

But we got the same fantastic olives, at 10 of them for 4 Euros.

You can say 'But this is the UK' all you want, that is still against your ethos in my book, Mr. Oliver.

Candy-Candy @ The World Cup

Couple of quick things, since updates have been few and far in between:

1. I have recently purchased a new website domain, which I will soon be turning into a snazzy new website. But until I do, stay tuned to this channel.

2. New experiment: I am in the process of candying Orange Habaneros.

Yes.

You heard correctly.

Candying.

Turning Orange Habanero slices into candy by an osmotic process whereupon a sugar solution replaces the liquid inside the pod walls. The new 'sugarpods' are then dried to produce the candying effect, and the yummy and extremely hot syrup left over shall be utilised for a variety of things.

3. First few days of the World Cup have left me with some interesting one liners:

a) England are not as bad as their first match; nor are they as good as everyone hypes them up to be. Lay off Robert Green. Lay off Fabio Capello. The English media have the uncanny ability to punish coaches who don't take risks and coaches who DO take risks. Whinge-whinge-whinge-whinge! let the players play and shut it!

b) Raymon Domenech should change his name to Raymond D'Oh!menech. I actually fell asleep watching France-Uruguay.

c) Germany are contenders IF and ONLY IF Mezut Ozil is running the strings at midfield, and he's already shown flashes of Rooney-esque petulance in the first game. Knock him out of the game, and it's curtains for Deutschland.

d) Ghana look strong. Serbia look like a wounded animal, and Australia look like someone just told them it's not Aussie Rules.

e)South Africa are playing with spirit. Mexico are tricky. Uruguay are deceptively good. France are only to blame for their ineptitude.

f) Argentina are using a midfielder at wingback. Do they not have such a player among their 23 man squad? Jonas Gutierres will be prematurely aged (into retirement) by the industrious Koreans.

g) Greece look more like the 1998 team than the one that won the European Championships.

h) Could the Panini album predictions be.....WRONG?!

A Book arrived in the post today...

I just got a copy in the post today of 'The Complete Chile Pepper Book' by Dave DeWitt and Paul Bosland.


It is not as academic as Jean Andrews 'Peppers: The Domesticated Capsicums', (which I think is a fantastic book, mind you) but it is a book I had been waiting for a while to get. It is also more complete than Mark Charles Miller, John Harrisson 'The great Chile Book', which was until now the only Chilli book I owned.


I will probably sit and read it over the weekend and give allow it to sink in before I talk about it, but from glancing through it on Google Scholar, and from just giving it a quick read a few minutes ago, I think it is a fairly complete book on capsicums.


I gave all the plants at work a quick watering with a half dose of Chilli Focus today, to start bringing the nutrients back into their diets. Some of the forum members have advised not to over-rely on nutrients, since it leeches the soils, but these are potted plants, so not much choice, unfortunately.


The Naga Morich at work is starting to sprout growth along the previously bare main stem, so I am seriously considering (someone just hit the sliding glass doors in our entrance head on...I should mention they slide open with the same speed and impetus of a professional mime miming 'a solid wall') chopping the top growth from it and using it for cuttings so as to trim it back to a manageable two feet height and seeing if I can get broader growth this year.

The Rocoto Rojo is also showing promise, albeit as a single, two foot stick with lots of new green growth coming out of it.

The Chocolate Habanero, Orange Habanero and Caribbean Red Habanero are showing less signs of vigorous growth. It may be a case of pruning for them and hoping for the best.

Crazy students have just spilled hot tea all over one of the radiators in front of me...and they wonder why they are not allowed into this building with hot drinks...

...at least they didn't spill it all over themselves (though that would provide me with a modicum of amusement.

Almapaprika dreamt of Mrs. Cole again last night. And once more she was helping out at the wedding.

I say it's all fine and dandy so long as she doesn't wear that awful outfit that made her look like an extra from a Street Fighter video game (Mrs. Bison).

The entrance door of the building is now refusing to open to people who want to leave or enter, unless they meet some unknown height/weight/body mass requirement.

I wonder sometimes what the (INFORMATION RESTRICTED) millions of pounds that went into the construction of this building ACTUALLY went into, what with the heating problems, the malfunctioning entrance doors, the malfunctioning lifts, useless lights, etc.

But at least it looks nice and shiny from the outside, and that's all that matters, really. (Ghost of cynicism past floats past me)

Almapaprika has infected me with her 'celebrity' dreams.

Or in my case: nightmares.

I dreamt last night I got into an argumentative spat with Wayne Rooney.

I was hoping for Cheryl Cole, to be honest (with a translator next to me).

But no.

I get the floppy eared 'White Pele.'

And not in a good mood (Is he ever in a good mood? then again, neither was I).

At least I saved Almapaprika from dreaming about him...

I hope.

Have a Thought to Spare?

Debating whether or not to go ahead with this year's planting, or to merely keep the plants that are still alive (a Naga Morich. The blasted thing is flowering in JANUARY!, plus a Chocolate Habanero, an Orange Habanero, and a Rocoto Rojo...oh, and the Datil Chilli at home), and forgo the planting altogether.

Flat offers me no chance of getting anything going (we now get possibly four hour MAX of direct sunlight during the high summer thanks to the construction of another block of flats in front of us), but I have so many seeds. I really wanted to try the 7Pot seeds one of the forum members sent me from Trinidad, as well as the other seeds forum members sent and some I bought at the close of last growing season...but we shall just have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I did want to spare a thought for the earthquake in Haiti. I know this is already a week old, and therefore I say nothing that is not already known, felt, or experienced by some.

Just spare a though for them, and keep them close to mind.

Within weeks most of the world had forgotten that nearly a quarter of a million people died in December 2004 because of the Indian Ocean Tsunami.

Let us not forget the ones who perished here, for it means we once again fail to learn from history.

Humanity: a Generation of Incompetent Techno-dependants

Yep. You heard it.

The last 10 days have proven we've actually managed to go back in the evolutionary ladder (sort of. Darwin didn't specify that evolution was a forward moving process, merely one of adaptation to challenged presented by the environment).

In this modern, eco-ultra-aware, litigation-enshrouded, health & safety fearing, environmental-apocalyptic world run by people who would have been Smilodon chow a few thousand years ago, we have forgotten basic instinctive responses to dealing with precisely said 'challenges presented by the environment'.

I'm talking about the snow.

Yes, I know I'm not from a country where snow falls profusely, but still.

Three inches of snow effectively crippled the UK last week. These are the sort of numbers people in other parts of the world deal with in late autumn.

In fact, these are the figures which used to be the norm in the UK not that long ago, and are still the norm in parts of the UK, every winter.

And yet...

Health and Safety ran amok as the snow fell. Buses stopped. People panic shopped as if a Hurricane was set to destroy most of England.

If we can't handle a little bit extra snow, I fear Global 'tepidness' will be just enough to finish us all.

A fine bunch of 'evolutionary masterpieces' we are.

New years Rant

The blog has been inactive for a few months, and some of my friends have been asking me why.

Truth be told, the chilli season gave way to the chilly season (pun sadly intended), and I had to finish my dissertation.

I lost a fair bit of my harvest to the stupidity of realizing that while capsicums keep well in the fridge, if a little moisture gets to them they rot really fast.

Still, I have a healthy supply in the freezer and some drying.

To my surprise, the Nagas, Chocolate Habaneros, Rocotos and Orange Habaneros were still alive until the Christmas Break, when the office was closed :-(

Heck! The Rocoto Rojo even had two pods...in DECEMBER! Took it blinking long enough...

The Naga is also still producing, which is really scary.

I have to thank the peeps from one of the offices where I keep the pods, who had looked after them while I was off being insane with 'academic stuff'.

I am looking forward to the new year, because the lone Datil I planted last year is still alive and well, so it should provide fruit for this summer.

And Almapaprika's Mum and Dad gave me a mini hydroponics system for X-mas! I shall be planting Culantro on the mini hydroponic so that I can cook Sancocho (an Aji-Chombo Land chicken soup cure for hangovers, and apparently death) for Almapaprika.

I've also been dabbling in the dark arts of jam and pickle making, having thus far made:

-Apple, Mint and White Habanero Jelly: a bit of a letdown, really. Needed more pectin. But good flavour and the heat is mild but noticeable.
-Mango, Peach and Naga Chutney: it was so good a friend of ours who shall remain nameless stole a pot of it from another's house. It was really nice and hot. I only used one Naga for this, since more than one would have been not consumable for most friends.
-Blueberry and Pomegranate Jam. So good, I could only make one and a quarter jars (I underestimated the amount of fruit needed). Lovely and full of flavour.
-Cranberry, Plum, and Cherry jam. Another good one. A bit more tart and runny than the Blueberry & Pomegranate one, but still oh, so tasty.
-Pickled Pears. Yup, you heard. The recipe from the Hairy Bikers. Still to taste them as they are 'pickling'.

One final thing, which is why the title is New Years Rant:

Copenhagen: Waste of time. The solution is simple. Technology transfer. It is also the most unlikely, because no one wants to give anything for free (and please do not be fooled into thinking that the 'aid' is free. Who do you think will sell the 'green technology' to the countries in need of it? I'm betting it won't be at discount prices...). Though you couldn't tell it was Global Warming in the coldest winter the UK has seen for a decade...

Also: Apocalyptic films and their recent resurgence. You know, the end of the world through our own making or through some unforeseen circumstance which could be traced back to mankind in some way or another. We are far to obsessed with that sort of film...

Finally. Rude and obnoxious people. There are far too many here where I work. Not co-workers, mind you (well...). They all know more about my work than I do, all want to get away with murder, all want to bend the rules, if not break them and grind them into dust. Why? Why are people afraid of following rules? Yes, AFRAID! 'Rules are unfair.' well, life is F-ING UNFAIR, YOU DOLTS!, if you could do anything you wanted at any time outside of the bonds of society (let's call it nature), you'd be dead before you hit puberty, because the rest of LIFE doesn't give two rabbit sized poo pellets about 'your need for all things to be equal'. Rules can help you if you use and respect them accordingly. Today's society (specially here) are too caught up in this 'Big Brother is out to get you because it wants to control you' paranoia.

whew!

Rant over...

Chockies!

Yes, it is a bit of a strange word.

Chockies.

The Chocolate Habaneros have FINALLY started to produce pods. I counted three today, and all indications are that there may be a few more in the works.

Not bad for a nearly four foot tall plant with about thirty flowers on it!

:-P

Yes, I am a little frustrated at times.

But other times I'm left in awe.

The 'Naga X' plant has now produced 10 pods, and is loaded with flowers, but dropping temperatures will probably stop more pods from developing, since pollen is not being released.

The Chocolate Sweet Pepper is producing a second load of flowers, no doubt a result of all the pods it carried now plucked out.

A second harvest? Might well be...

Someone has been messing around and playing games with me the past few weeks.

Simply must be.

The Orange Habanero went from being loaded with flowers and producing squat, to being loaded with flowers and now also with pods. I count about 15 so far, and if what I've read in THP about this particular Habanero is correct, it will bear loads of pods (in the hundreds). Still, I'll settle with having just enough to make a good sauce with.

The Caribbean Red Habanero, on the other hand, has been disappointing. Lots of flowers, but zilch pods. I think it may be affected by the fact that the Orange Habanero is overgrowing the CRH, which means it's cramped into a little corner.

I have just had to do something from work which just...well...this is a public forum, so in that respect I shall keep my opinions regarding work to myself. I would be very angry if I just wasn't so blinking disappointed...

Pretty in Purple

I have to admit that one of the best things I could have ever done was to move the Esplendor Chilli to the office.

At home it was fine and green, but all of the flowers were dropping, no doubt due to the lack of sunshine and temperature.

But in the office, well, what can I say? Photos really say it better than any words I could type in here:











They are just lovely.

The Naga Morich plant has just had it's first developing chilli, though I have to admit it may not be a 'pure breed'. The temperatures are still to low, so pollen is not being released from the flower. Therefore I got some pollen from a ready supplier (the Piri Piri) and hand pollinated it. Thus if a pod does develop, I shall christen it the 'Naga Piri' Chilli! (dramatic music ensues).

I am getting really frustrated with the Caribbean Red Habanero and the Orange Habanero. Both are doing fantastically well, great colour on the leaves, great size, plenty of flowers.

And all the flowers are dropping.

Without pollinating.

Very few of the flowers are releasing pollen, which is annoying. I am starting to think I might need to borrow the Piri Piri flowers for a little more 'Artificial Insemination', but that would just not be fair.

I'd have chillies, yes.

But not Orange Habs.

Not Caribbean Red Habs.

I'd have mutts!

Nothing wrong with that, to be honest, but I kind of wanted to try the real thing first.

Oh, and Andy Murray just won his match.

I'm still not a fan of his, though. I think he's too full of himself. And yes, there's nothing wrong with that, it pushes you to be better.

But my personal tennis favourite may have been a little 'odd', but he wasn't full of himself (Andre Agassi!)

Not feeling too good today. I blame it on a parent practicing her 'bad parenting skills' yesterday by leaving her really ill child (OK. She was late teens) on a sofa in the office cafe while on an open day. The poor child threw up four times while her mom went to a university accommodations meeting. I had to call the person in charge of the Open day and request a First Aider be sent to look at the poor girl.

Seriously now, if your child is doing poorly in the throws of a virulent, possibly highly contagious disease, do you leave her ALONE , oh, and in a crowded place while you go off with your other child?! Seriously now. Where are your priorities, lady?

I know it's a parenting choice here, but if I was the parenting police I'd be putting some serious points on that mom's parenting licence.

Interesting uses for the mobile phone...

This is a very quick post. I am writing from my mobile phone. It is very cool, to be honest, though not something I shall be indulging in too often. My phone, you see, is not 'pudgy finger friendly', and whilst it does have a 'qwerty' keyboard, the lovely people at nokia and blackberry believe we are all in possession of skeletal digits.
Everytime I write, I feel quite aware of just how clumsy my thumbs are.
But I leave you with this morsel of conference: what is the purpose of ugg boots?!

Crazy Cat Lady Firing Squad

Just read on the Guardian that the people in the US who created 'Big Brother USA' have a new show lined up with what I can only describe as a horrible premise:

Small companies who have been hit hard by the current financial situation and need to 'downsize' will take all the employees who are potentially 'downsized', allow them to see how much each of their salaries, and let it become a popular vote as to who stays and who goes.

One of the companies involved (I forget if it was an executive producer from the show or one of the 'small companies') said that it was a good idea, because (and I paraphrase) 'He's been in charge of a company before, and it is a sad thing to fire people, so this is a good thing.'

This is truly sad.

IF YOU CAN'T FIRE PEOPLE BECAUSE IT BOTHERS YOU, YOU EITHER KEEP THEM WORKING IN THE COMPANY OR YOU FIRE YOURSELF.

It's called 'management'. That's why they pay you far more than the other people in the company (and if you're the owner, why and how you make a profit).

Let's take the authority and responsibility of management completely out of their hands.

Yes, let us do that.

Because it's not like they are already seen as 'incompetent'.

No, not one bit.

Modern culture done nothing more than praise the resolve of management, specially in these hard times (can't detect the sarcasm?)

Let us turn employment decisions into a popularity contest, devoid of things such as:

-Work Ethic
-Qualifications

Or being that one guy or gal that does more work than three of the other colleagues, but simply fails to 'click' socially with the rest of the group.

I wonder if humanity realises how fast (thing speeding bullet speed here. Or Maximum Warp, or Ludicrous Speed) we're heading into a 1984 style of world (I prefer the 'Running Man' comparison, but only because it was an 'Ahnohld' film), and we just do what sheep usually do:

Be docile and simply accept it as entertainment.

SAY NO!, DAMN IT!

Have we lost any and all sense of decency, of compassion for our fellow humans?

Whatever happened to 'Please'?

I dislike the 'I' generation with a passion. It promotes the self to a new level of narcissism, and disconnects it from the realities of life.

Yes, the realities of life.

'But Aji Chombo, the Internet has connected millions. Brought them together as one! So much has changed for the good of humanity in the last 50 years!'

U-huh. And in this modern day we have more wars and more countries than ever before bickering at one another, while people simply disconnect from everything.

Because we've chosen to lift the individual above the collective, which in a positive way has allowed us to voice concerns which had previously gone silent, but more and more nowadays it's used as an excuse for anyone with a chip of their shoulder to whinge, whinge, whinge.

I'm just going through a morning rant, s'all (whinge, whinge, whinge)

The 'I'-pod...

...'I'-phone

...'Personal' computer

...'Personal' planner (PDA)

Heck, even the single meals are all designed to promote 'individual' independence (sure, marketed as 'interdependence') rather than help bring about a notion of community.

But then again, community doesn't sell, does it (not unless you market it as your 'personal' slice of the community).

Are we that selfish? (well, I could always argue the rampant proliferation of 'sexy' toys in recent years as another log in the fireplace for this argument. But I digress...)

'I' guess with so many 'I' devices, there really is no need to be mindful of the 'other', is there?

We're just a collection of 'I's...

Spring is here! Can't you tell???

Yup. Spring (onion) seems to be here.

Warm days.

Students, bastions of the challenge of modernity, post-modernity, neo-post-modernity, ultra-neo-post-modernity and the like, heralds of the revolution of the new and inevitable changes brought about by the incessant juggernaut of the 'awakening' of our piddling little species that we must take care of our planet (before it takes care of us!) go about doing that one thing that sets us apart from Bonobos, Chimpanzees and Gorillas:

They cram into a little space of greenery (Abrecromby Square), where they proceed to frolic and be free to all the student-y things (drink, smoke, drink, smoke, place BBQ's onto the grass, burning it irreparably, smoke some alternative forms of cigarettes, drink) and generally have a good time...

...and leave a trail of garbage and destruction behind them that sometimes makes one wonder 'The generation that's supposed to make a change, right?'

Mom and Dad's generation, or if we're going to be both accurate AND cynical about it, Great,Great,Great Grandpa's generation ('cause Great, Great, Great Grandma was still in the shackle's of 'pre-ultra-neo-post-modernism', and was unaware of the great social revolutions, left to 'man' the household) were supposed to be the ones responsible for the degeneration of 'Gaia' to a state of utter uselessness, what with the glaciers melting, the penguins getting sunburn, and Nicholas Cage turned into an 'Action Hero'.

WE were supposed to be the advanced guard, the 'Marine Recon', the tip of the spear into this new foray of 'globalised self-awareness', with our younger sibling being the main, mauling force of change!

Right...

Sure...

Every 'spring' (onion) since I've been in this place it's the same irrefutable thing:

Students, 'en masse', crowd the little square like Elephant Seals in a small beach, eager and quivering to commence mating season, whilst sunbathing with all the lackadaisical chutzpah of a seasoned veteran of the beaches of the Mediterranean, while producing enough waste to fill every single bin on the little square and then leave a thick film of crud all over the grass. Last summer the garbage filled two skips...PER DAY!

But tell them to clean up for themselves, and you get the fury of the Elephant Seal, (and in the case of some of the jovial sunbathers, the blubber as well), claiming it is it's UNIVERSAL RIGHT to be a pompous, self-righteous, littering arse!

Sigh...

Somewhere in the American West, a native American sheds a lonely, solitary tear for the damage done to his 'earth mother'.

He should instead be getting the moose antlers from the tent and spanking some sense on Elephant Seal derriere.

Elle Magazine?! Magazine?!

Almapaprika was having a grand ol' time last night complaining about the 'Fashion Mag' (there's an oxymoron for you) she'd bought, and rightfully so. The magazine (Elle, if I remember correctly), was choc full of everything except what you'd expect from a mag: articles.

I mean she sped through the first 45 pages (out of a 120 page 'Super sized issue') which consisted of (big ominous musical score here...) ADS!

For crying out loud!

Is Shakespeare's tongue dead and buried?

Is there so much competition for writer's bringing you news that 'Black is the new black for winter 2010', or '20 NEW great sex tips on how to drive him wild! (based on the number of issues with that title over the past decade, men should by now be useless sex puppets of a benevolent matriarchy united under the flag of COSMOPOLITAN), that they have to resort to entertaining women with images of (insert snooty french accent) 'Wafer thin' women wearing just enough cloth to cover 1/2 of a CD. The garments (if you'd like to call them that) will range (apparently) from the spendy (£2,000 for a pair of shoes), to the Thrifty (£250 for a practically identical pair of shoes).

What planet do these people live in??

DESIGN LAND?

I can understand the occasional (mind you, I define occasional as 'something I would only do once, maybe twice a year) splurge because we need a pick-me-up, but some people LIVE the delusional world of these magazines. The French riviera can only accommodate so many, folks...

They say the current economic downturn did not happen because of people overspending and creating a global climate where the average person was in more debt than they could manage...

...but after perusing through this 'fantasy world of make believe' fashion, I can only surmise that if we take the combined debts of all those who not only 'read' these mags for their informative articles (calm down, Aji Chombo. People have a right to spend their hard earned money [hang on, they buy all this rubbish on credit! It's not their money to begin with!] however they wish [fine. So long as they don't join a picket line and start shouting 'save the poor hungry children of lower lesser hungrystan' right after they've left the shopping centres with thousands of £££ or $$$ worth of useless waffle!]) but also buy thanks to their 'thrifty' recommendations there probably would be NO recession.

Sigh...

But I digress.

I moved some of the chillies to the top of our dresser this morning, so they can get a full blast of sunshine (they need it. I don't think they are getting sufficient sunshine). It WAS sunny this morning, but now it seems that might have been it for the day. Plus we're getting sleet mid week...yay!

Thinning out the 'idiot' gene...

I was going to create a bit of an artsy post about a lady being attacked by a whirling page 3 model from the Daily Star. The newspaper was swept by the wind as I walked up to work this morning, and curiously enough it flew accross the street. Shedding its pages. The last page to shed happened to be the page 3 girl 'photospread' (insert your own joke here), which swiftly attacked a passerby, who had to use her skillful avoidance techniques (she must be acosted often by 'radical extremist fundraisers' in the city centre) to sidestep the buxom beauty as it sought to wrap herself around the poor passerby.

But today I've yet witnessed another reason why humanity is movin ever so closer to its own 'but you CAN plug that radio and put it in the bathtub' demise.

Some people are just purposely (must be a subconscious realisation that their genetic material is at a n evolutionary dead end...or they are just dumb...though you're not supposed to call them that anymore...not politically correct, you see) thoughtless.

My office just had a fire alarm go off. It took over 15 minutes to evacuate the building, because some people would not leave their seats because they thought it was just a drill.

A fire drill that lasts 15 minutes, even though the rest of the people around them are collecting their belongings and high-tailing it like a looter in a riot when the police arrives.

Apparently they only got up after two things happened: a voice over the LOUD and IMMENSELY ANNOYING fire alarm said 'This is not a drill. Please exit the bulding', and one of the buildin'g 'fire safety officers' walked up the them and asked 'Why haven't you left the building? The alarm's been going off for 15 minutes. Most of the other people have already evacuated the building.'

One person apparently said 'But the alarm is so soft.'

SOFT?!

That blinking thing can wake the dead!

It probably warned off several cargo ships 20 miles out to sea to avoid the area!

Perhaps my building's next alarm system will involve cattle prod weilding 'helpful assistants' to get people to move (again, temper, Aji Chombo. You must be 'politically correct').

Seriously, though. If you notice that even the 'faint and distant' building fire alarm has gone off for 15 minutes. Don't you get the least bit curious?

Do people not watch disaster or horror films anymore?

It definitely must be a trigger in a person's genes then.

'Bub, yer just not cut out to continue yer genetic line. We'll turn the fire alarm sound into 'easy listening Kenny G music' until the smoke or flames take care of you'...