Archive for June, 2008

Introduction to Dublinese #1

June 20th, 2008

Just in case any readers from beyond the sea decide to visit Dublin some day, I thought I would present the following scene to help you become accustomed to the local language.

A young Dubliner, bumps into two friends in the street.

Kaiser: Story, lads? Did yiz go t’the pictures last night?

Eyelash: Hawaya, head. Yeah, we went t’see Rambo 9.

Kaiser: Was it any use?

Turkey: It was massive!

Eyelash: I thought it was brutal.

Kaiser: I don’t think I’ll bother m’hole then.

Turkey: C’mon we’ll go for a gargle, I’ve a terrible throat on me. <indicates a pub across the street>

Kaiser: Not to Mooney’s. That place is a kip.

Eyelash: Let’s get some bevvies and take them back t’your gaff. Then we can watch the match on the box.

Turkey: No, my aul fella’s home tonight and yiz know what he’s like when he’s watching the Gaa. He ate the head off me last time I brought the lads home during a match.

Kaiser: <Pointing down the street>Look at that bowsie over there!

Turkey: Who?

Kaiser: Anto’s brother.

Eyelash: Ah, he’s an awful gobshite.

Kaiser: Hard t’believe when Anto’s such a decent skin.

Turkey: I don’t think he’s as thick as people think. He’s a cute hoor.

Kaiser: Well, he’s only an aul bollix then.

Eyelash: How is Anto? I haven’t seen him in donkeys.

Kaiser: He got his mot up the pole. They have a chisler now, so he doesn’t get out much. He even got rid of his ronnie for her.

Eyelash: Hate tha’.

Turkey: Not that young wan, Jacinta?

Kaiser: No, not that scanger! Angela’s sister.

Eyelash: You’re coddin!

Kaiser: No, head, I’m deadly.

Eyelash: Jaysus.

Kaiser: Here, have yiz got any odds? I need to get some fags from the Chinese.

Turkey: Yeah, I have some shrapnel here.

Eyelash: Get us a single with sore finger while you’re there, head.

Turkey: And then we can borrow your brother’s banger and go for a spin.

Kaiser: Can’t. Some Apache took it and and when he got it back it was banjaxed.

Turkey: I thought Tooler fixed that.

Kaiser: He made a haymes of it. The whole things bollixed now. <Departs across the road>

Turkey: Well, feck it, then. I’m going home.

Eyelash: Don’t be such a dry shite!

Turkey: Well, I’m not traipsing around here all night!

Eyelash: C’mon, when Kaiser gets back we’ll go down t’Slattery’s and get stocious.

Turkey: Savage!

Eyelash: Gear!

Kaiser: <Returning>Rapid!

Here is the translation…

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There is only one thing you can do…

June 19th, 2008

… when someone brings macaroons into the office.

If you want your company logo to appear on my lanyard, feel free to contact me via the comments on this entry.

Meme: What makes me feel happy like I was six again

June 19th, 2008

At the time of this entry I am forty-four years of age and I enjoy many pleasures that I was not able to enjoy when I was a child (no sniggering at the back).

But pleasure is not the same as happiness, not in my ballog, anyway. I have already written about the contentment I feel in the few minutes I have before falling asleep, but there is another happiness I enjoy most days thanks to a small, furry friend of mine. Here she is:

I love cats. You needn’t get started about how cats are aloof and sly and blah, blah, because you are wrong. Just sit back and accept it.

Tia, in the pic, is a very affectionate and happy cat and she is a joy. But it’s not just because her fur feels soft when I stroke her back or because she makes me laugh when I give her a good spanking and she begs for more… (Yes, I thought that would get your attention. It’s true. I’ll video it and post it on my ballog later)…

It’s because I got my first cat when I was six years of age, so whenever I get to hold a cat, I cease to be a forty-four year old IT consultant / aspiring author who can kill you with his thumb… I am a six year old again and a very happy one.

Escapism? Probably. But those are moments that I treasure.

I’m going to give this meme thing a try and I’m tagging the following good people to tell the world what makes them feel like a happy six year old again:

Rowan Manahan

Michael Nugent

Paraic Hegarty

Grannymar

Geri Atric

Prison for Turkey book ‘insult’

June 18th, 2008

Prison for Turkey book ‘insult’

Someone probably thought it was a load of gobble-de-gook.

Same-sex Marriage

June 17th, 2008

I have noticed several articles in the news in recent months about the “debate” surrounding same-sex marriage.

I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. When someone says they are against marriage or they don’t believe in marriage, they mean that they don’t want to get married. They don’t mean that nobody should get married or that nobody should be allowed to get married or that marriage should be illegal.

So if you don’t agree with same-sex marriage, or you are against it, the solution is simple…

…DON’T MARRY SOMEONE WHO IS THE SAME SEX AS YOU.

Boredom and Memories

June 12th, 2008

A good and wise friend of mine was telling me a while ago how he had taken his daughter down to the Forty Foot in Sandycove for a bit of fishing and how they caught tens of mackeral. The details of the story are not important here. What is important is what he said at the end of his story…

We were building memories.

That’s fabulous.

I feel that who I am is, to a very large extent, made up of my memories and the functioning of my brain. Change either one of them enough and “I” cease to be and another “I” replaces me in my body.

Since I am constantly forming new memories, and since I am constantly building new neural pathways and destroying old ones, I am effectively ceasing to exist and being born again with every moment that passes.

And so I wonder about boredom. Is boredom less about having something to do now and more about realising that (significant) memories are not being created? Perhaps boredom is the brain’s way of saying: “Without memories, there is no ‘I’, so get off your arse and make some!”

But then if that’s the case, why do so many people turn to others to relieve their boredom instead of doing something about it themselves?

If you are reading my ballog because you find it interesting, thought-provoking and sometimes funny, that’s great.

But if you are reading it because you are bored, then get off your arse and write your own. Though I guess you’d have to stay on your arse, seeing as you are already sitting at your computer.

Or tend a garden, or make a sick person happy, or draw a cartoon, or cook a fabulous meal for a loved one or maybe even take your daughter fishing.

If the “I” is made up of memories, then boredom is nothing less than a long, slow suicide.

Musing #32

June 12th, 2008

Do mushrooms feel a sense of irony when they go past their “Sell By” date and funghi start growing on them?

Being in possession of an offensive t-shirt

June 6th, 2008

I read on the BBC news web site the other day that a gentleman was not allowed through security at Heathrow Terminal 5 because he was wearing a t-shirt with the image of a gun on it.

The security drones were quoted as saying such things as:

We can’t let you through and you’ve a gun on your T-shirt.

That would be the image of a gun, not an actual gun. In fact, the image of a cartoon gun being wielded by a Transformer. That’s right, an alien robot. A fictional, toy, alien robot. So not even an image of a gun that could actually hurt people.

If a T-shirt had a rude word or a bomb on it, for example, a passenger may be asked to remove it.

A rude word, fair enough, because that would be an actual rude word and not simply an allusion to a rude word. Being asked to remove an actual bomb, I’m right on board with that approach, but an image of a bomb? Tasteless, perhaps, when boarding a plane, but likely to explode?

I have noticed recently in the UK that people are no longer asked to remove their shoes when going through security. So either security forces now have absolute proof that no one is ever going to try to blow up a plane with a shoe again, or… it was never a real threat in the first place and scanning people’s shoes was just a security pantomime. Hmmm… which seems more likely to you?

And don’t get me started on liquids. OK now that you have, I’ll make my point. Just because two idiots thought they could mix chemicals together on a plane and make a bomb doesn’t mean that it is actually feasible. Can anybody point me to the scientific research that shows it is possible? I haven’t been able to find it. But because authorities gave credence to those idiots, none of us can carry liquids onto a plane. Of course, it would be impossible to get an airport employee who works in the departures area to smuggle in a case of explosive liquids disguised as, I don’t know… water maybe.

And of course we aren’t allowed to carry on anything sharp or flammable, but then they sell us alcohol in breakable glass bottles.

Next they’ll be telling us that two idiots figured out a way to imbibe chemicals and that to set them off, all they have to do is exchange bodily fluids. So then you won’t be allowed to board a plane unless you can prove that you are clinically dehydrated and even then you won’t be allowed to snog on board.

I believe it’s all about keeping people scared. Keep them scared and they will give you more power, in principle to protect them. But why would politicians want more power? Well, if you have to ask the question…

Yes, there have been terrorist attacks. But you don’t prevent terrorist attacks by having people strip to their underpants and put their cosmetics in a see-through plastic bag. Terrorists will always find a way around those measures.

Security at airports is, in principle, about stopping people causing havoc on the planes themselves. I say “in principle” because I feel the measures are mostly for show. What is to stop a suicide bomber from attacking the airport itself? It has already been tried using a primitive car bomb. Was the result security checks on the roads leading in to airports? No, because the authorities knew that would cause chaos and security isn’t worth it if the price is chaos, especially when security is largely a shadow-play anyway.

Of course, the terrorists could take a simpler and cheaper approach to causing havoc, they can just arrange a flash mob to meet at a selected airport, all wearing t-shirts depicting Transformers. There would be a security melt-down, the airport would grind to a halt and best of all (from the terrorists’ point of view) it wouldn’t even be illegal.

Don't let airport security catch you wearing one of these!

The Do Do’s and the Do Not Do’s of Airline Travel

June 6th, 2008

Life can be trying enough, but when you are an arsehole, life becomes even more of a challenge both for you and the poor bastards who have to be in close proximity to you. Remember that if you are a human being, the probability is that you are indeed an arsehole. You might not be aware that your arseholian traits become exaggerated when you use public transport, particularly aircraft.

Here are some helpful tips that can help you make the travelling experience less trying for, well, me really. I don’t care about you, because you’re an arsehole.

Do Not Do…

  • Abandon your luggage trolley at the boarding gate so that it gets in the way of the people behind you.
  • Stomp up to the boarding gate when they are boarding group A, even though you know you are in group B.
  • Sit in my seat then expect me to to simply swap seats with you because you couldn’t be bothered getting off your arse or even reading your boarding pass.
  • Fart on the plane, man in seat 21F!
  • Stampede like cattle towards the boarding gate as soon as you see a staff member approach it.
  • Elbow me in the head again when you are reaching for your luggage if you know what’s good for you.
  • Talk to people excitedly about your trip when you can see that they are trying to read. Clue: if they are reading the safety card over and over, they don’t want to talk to you!
  • Recline your seat without having the courtesy to ask the person behind you first. At the very least, this will ensure you don’t whack them in the face as they lean forward to get something out of the magazine pocket, woman in seat 14B!
  • Take it out on the flight attendant because the airline messed up the schedule.
  • Edge nervously away from every brown person as if they are planning to blow the plane up. Believe it or not, most Asians are just trying to get somewhere.
  • Yank on the back of my seat as a means of lifting your lazy, uncoordinated, fat arse out of your own seat… especially on overnight, long-haul flights, lazy, uncoordinated, fat-arsed woman in seat 42F.
  • Abandon your trolley behind another abandoned trolley at the boarding gate. They do fit together, you know.

Do Do…

  • Wash before you travel, preferably the same week.
  • Store your baby in a soundproof container, like another aircraft.
  • Make your back-of-the-seat-kicking brats sit behind you, instead of in front of you. They are more likely to reach adulthood and increase your blighted clan that way.
  • Remember to take off all your jewellery and hair clips before going through the metal (the clue is in the name) detectors, hideously over-dressed woman who acts as if she has never been through airport security before.
  • Consider staying at home.

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