Jim and Paul (dot) Net

Let’s begin where it all begins, the start of any beginning, the portal to any story or journey.  Lets enter the word fortress from the lexicographic portcullis.  Now the story ends.  The end of the tale, the reader now evacuated from the fable’s anus.

Now to the real content.

Hello.  Who’d have thought the human mind brain could comprehend Felus catus attired in any kind of millinery?  Not me, although ironically, I am picturing a tom cat in a top hat.  This cat shall have a name, he was Christened Statham.  He is Statham the Top-hatted Tom.  He is 13 in human years, so presumably 91 in cat years, which I am basing on dog years (7 to 1) because I have no real frame of reference in general animal lifespan. Actually, let’s just ignore all that dog/cat year nonsense and just say he’s 13 – I’m sure we all can all picture a 13 year old cat, well a cat anyway, and that’s old for a cat isn’t it.  The point was, he is an old cat called Statham in a top hat.  I didn’t mention he was ginger did i?  Add that to your list.  He also likes darts, feeling melancholy and admiring Dali artwork.  This cat (Statham) is no Philestine!

Now take a step back.  Again, the human brain comprehending a culturally articulate, clothes wearing, emotional cat.  Weird isn’t it.  The next thing you may notice is the clear act of plagiarism that has taken part.  Most people know that the cat in the hat was a book or character or something created by Dr. Seuss.  Now i don’t know the story of this madman’s cat, but suspect it was colourful, did lots of things that rhymed and was probably recreated in a film by Jim Carrey… Actually, i think it was Mike Myers wasn’t it?  Either way I don’t really care.  Lets go back to my plagiarism.  Is this plagiarism simply because I lifted a character/book title from a nonsensical American? No.  It isn’t.  I was sat doing not much, was trying to think of something to blog about, and came up with the title in my head box.  It is a series of words that were not invented by the doc, but ‘evolved’ over many years during the lengthy history of the English syntax.  These pre-generated words have been arranged in such a way that they make literary sense and these particular ‘word chain’ has popped up on at least two seperate occasions, once by me and once by Seuss Phd.  Was he a medical doctor or did he obtain a Phd in something like Rhyming Science Management?  I don’t know, and to also add, i don’t care.  For some, unknown reason, i have in my head that he was clearly a twat.  So, in a nutshell, what was this all about?  Cat’s don’t usually wear hats (unless you want to get on You’ve Been Framed), plagiarism is in the eye of the beholder and I don’t like Dr Seuss based not on my constructive analysis of him as a person/author, more on a reactive ‘gut feeling’.  Social commentary?  Figure it out for yourselves.

Done.  Can’t think of any more I can nonsense on about.  I’m going to let the cat out, feed the rabbit and bury four sand people under the shed for future generations to dig up and remember from Star Wars.

Have just seen James Bolam on the telly.  Fairly indifferent to him if I’m honest, would rather be watching some kind of Giant Alligator vs. Massive Cat film or something on ‘Syfy’.  Suspect even that made up cinematic ‘gem’ may test my short attention span soon enough.

Television is a puzzling mistress isn’t it?  You find yourself watching through it, not watching ‘it’.  I’ve sat and watched a few of hours of it today – some of it was football, some was the news, some was something else.  I couldn’t tell you what has happened in the last 5 hours of my life, I could, however, tell you that shortly before my mini, televisual brain wash, I gave about 4 pints of blood to some sadistic phlebo-nurse at my local hospital.  Like a butcher she was – took what she wanted from me in incredibly clinical fashion and told me to fuck off.  Well, leave by the front door through the ‘blue zone’.  Thought it was the Crystal Maze.  Actually yeah, observation here, this is a moment where i try and relate to the people (you) ‘listening to me’ by pointing out something obvious and going ‘isn’t it?’ afterwards – aren’t hospitals now laid out like the gameshow ‘The Crystal Maze’ with Ed Tudor Pole?  Blue section this, Green quadrant that and Aztec Zone the other.  Isn’t it?  You probably have your own opinion on hospital layouts whether or not you have an architectural bent, so i won’t force my opinions on you.  I must, however advise you that my observation(s) are entirely true and are not open to debate.  We are, people, on the Internet, and intelligent debate with the to’s and fro’s of factual retorts and educated coming’s and going’s are a waste of everyone’s time.  Let’s just call each other ‘thick cunt’s’ and be done with it.  You thick cunt.

What is it with insulting faceless folk on the interweb anyway?  You see a ‘blog’, much like this I expect but obviously with far less importance on anything, and then decide to comment on it.  “You’re so fucking wrong and dumb, suck my dick!” would not be an unusual comment.  “Eat my eggy shit, digest it, shit it out again then feed said shit back to the chickens that laid the eggs I brought up (so to speak) 24 words ago” is also a comment I suspect is widespread on Tim Berners-Lee’s monumental creation.  What drives people to piss out such vitriol.  Loneliness?  Boredom?  Stupidity?  Nut allergies?  No.  What induces such fractures of opinion is surely the fact we all sit in artificially lit rooms, creating fake Vitamin D via the photons emitted from neon lights and halogen bulbs passing into our skin.  The voice in my head and hard (made up) evidence reckons this pretend Vitamin D drives us to swear, and automatically assume everyone is wrong.  It also makes you a bit gay, but that’s not for me to comment on.  Some of my best friends are gay.  Anyway, to reiterate, that what i just said just there, a minute ago is all fact – look it up in Nature, volume 742, ‘Vitamin D created by artificial light makes you a shouty, sweary, cock merchant’ – Norkem, Prital and Warner, 2003.

Back to stuff.  Now to wander aimlessly back on track to the perfectly obvious topic of the interpretation of art, modern or not.  One person looks at a picture of a policeman, and sees a policeman, another looks at it and sees a picture of a gendarme.  Is it because one of these art lovers is French and the other English/American/Australian/Canadian (not Quebec i presume) etc?  Probably, but it could be that they ‘think outside the box’ – lateral thinking.  The incredulous spewings of uneducable, mid-managers, pretending to have extended vocabularies by using metaphors and buzz words extracted from books written by money addicted plonkers.  These authors who are, of course, fuelled and spurred on by sycophantic ring-lickers and cash – their linguistic skills actually that of particularly talkative shoes.  Get yourself a double latte, grab an apple bag and fill it full of the ‘low hanging fruit’.  Now sit down, shut up, put the telly-box on and stare through it like a mind fucked, baby chimp.

Right, balls out, arms away and tits back in the bin.  I can’t vomit any more of this mind shit.  This is a first attempt to see what is expelled.  It’s good therapy if nothing else.