Freshly Spilled Thoughts

A few years ago now, a family member of mine went to a music class. In the class there was a bloke who had penned a few songs himself in the past. Not only that, he was once the lead vocalist in a group you may have heard of…

Duran Duran.

This guy later got replaced by Simon Le Bon, but he had a hand in writing the hit “Girls On Film” and possibly “Rio” as well.

Back in those days, this guy just wanted a new keyboard so he signed a waiver to any rights he may have otherwise had for about 600 quid in £50 notes.

As far as possible future riches went, he was done up like a kipper. They even paid him to give Simon singing lessons, which is like paying the sorceror to train the apprentice so he may replace you.

The Moral Of This Tale:

In life if you’re not the pigeon, you’re the statue.

Let’s play this out with a bit of Girls On Film…

What’s that? A chink of sunlight, no less.

You’ve made it to Thursday and somehow the day feels lighter.

Hump day Wednesday is now a blur in the rear view mirror as you change from 3rd to 4th gear, racing towards the weekend.

It’s still a long stretch of road ahead, but you’re well on the way.

On Days Like These by Matt Monro begins to play.

You put on your Ray Bans and smile. Aint nothin’ to it but to do it…

This is an old video of a guy in Tynemouth who was clearly having a mental episode at the time of a quick shopping expedition (and for that he certainly has my sympathy so I’m in no way making fun of him). Absolutely one of life’s characters who just needed a bit of help.

I’m only posting it because he somehow still manages to walk the line of classic comedy…

Lines such as:

“are you going to put it on the dark net”

“all I want is some some cat treats”

“I’ll set the cats on yer” (you can’t tell me he wasn’t aware of the comic genius in this riposte)

and

“what’s it got to do with you big ears?”

Are priceless lines. They should give him a knighthood (he also looks like the long lost twin of Vic Reeves)…

Here’s what I thought of this video when I first saw it back in 2020…

I had a strange dream last night. I’d been away for a few days and when I came back I went out to check on rabbits (which I don’t own). The rabbit hutch (which doesn’t exist in real life) and the front was missing off it. WTF.

The rabbits were happily doing what rabbits do and no harm had come to them, so I put the front of the rabbit hutch back on again (as you do).

I then thought to myself, “Who’s been feeding these rabbits in my absence? They need food.”

Logically these plans would have been made before going away, but this was a dream, therefore no rules from the mortal realm applied.

In my dream I had to go and get food for them. It was at this point I thought, “Well, where would I go for such a thing?”

In my conscious state, the answer is obvious of course: “A Pet Food Shop”… as I write this now, the most basic of solutions is mentally displayed in bright neon. Why do dreams play you like this and cast you as an extra in Dumb and Dumber? 🙂

Even someone as thick as me in a dream, realised that I couldn’t actually have rabbits if I didn’t know where to get the bloody food from.

“There’s a bloke sitting at a bus stop, I’ll ask him“, would have probably been my next port of call.

I woke up from my semi-lucid dream, sporting a dead arm and a hand that felt like it had been stitched on by Dr. Frankenstein. There’s nothing more warming to the cockles, than that of a limb which no longer responds to you until circulation kicks in again.

If your hand was called Gordon (why would it be, I know.. and if it were what would the other hand be called? It raises more questions than answers) you’d start shouting something like “Gordon is alive“, as your hand once again began responding to the power of thought. Obviously, you’d shout this rather quietly so as not to wake up anyone else.

Let’s all have a bit of decorum around here.

And so, here I am. I’m not going to look up why I am dreaming about rabbits, but there is surely a reason.

Time for coffee.

I did my big exertion experiment and so far it seems like it paid off. That’s the thing with exertion when you’re under the weather, it’s either going to make you worse or it makes the immune system rally.

I proved this point about 10 years ago when I was incapacitated for 15 days (long story). When I had enough strength to walk further than half a road, I went training. Most people would have regarded this as sheer lunacy, but it worked and something in my system kicked in again.

A few days later I was more or less back to normal after being completely out of the game for nearly 3 weeks. I’m talking ‘holy shit, this thing is never going to end’ level of incapacity.

I have this theory that nature knows, you see. You either serve a purpose in the grander scheme of things or it makes room for something else.

There’s a guy called Greg Valentino (funny guy) and he tells people to ‘jerk off’ because nature knows. Normally I would laugh, but I actually think there is some sort of logic in the ‘no filter’ comedy.

At the time of writing I feel human again.

It’s always fatal going to the shops afterwards though as my brain then believes I deserve a reward. Lions think they deserve a gazelle and I think I deserve raspberry yoghurt lollies. Surely you burn a gazillion calories in 80 minutes anyway, right?

Well, I’d like to think it’s gazillion. It’s probably more like 300 calories, which you put back on after eating anything more than what Twiggy used to shovel down her neck for brunch.

As Joanna Lumley said, “Instead of burning off the cake, just don’t eat the cake.”

Now I love Joanna, but not eating cake makes Jack a dull boy.

I’m embracing the whole yin and yang concept. Anyway yeah, good – exertion is currently winning.

I’ve had one of those annoying colds that doesn’t make you feel really ill, but still stops you from doing things requiring maximum exertion. Women call it ‘man flu’. I call it, “the end of the world as we know it”.

For example, whilst suffering with such an affliction, if someone said, “Do you want to climb Mount Everest today, then when we reach the top we can pound our chests and swiftly run back down to the bottom after consuming Red Bull?”

I’d reply with, “Not today, but I wouldn’t say no to a stroll at a leisurely pace if it involves a cone of chips as a reward at the end.”

That kind of thing.

The local doctor is a bit like Mr. Magoo on a bad day. If you go to him for practically anything, he just tells you to breathe in the vapours of menthol crystals or he gives you amoxycillin.

I am sort of convinced that to be a doctor all you need to do is be able to spell amoxycillin (apparently that’s the UK spelling anyway). Since I can do this, just call me Dr. Dean.

Going back to the supposedly qualified ‘quack’…

If your leg was hanging off he’d tell you to do the same thing.

“Doctor. I seem to have lost a leg and I’m not quite sure where I put it, but I’m sure I had it this morning.”

“Try these crystals. Breathe them in and let the healing powers of them wash over you. After that just spin anti clockwise until you are so dizzy you can’t find your way back here.”

“Thanks Doc. I’ll let you know if I regrow a new leg by Thursday.”

So rather than go to him, I filled a bowl up with hot water and used Olbas Oil instead of crystals, which is the next best thing.

I wasn’t expecting much, but it does work to a degree. I had the best nights sleep in ages and today I am going to risk exerting myself later. Wish me luck.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll want to settle down. Until tomorrow I’ll just keep moving on…

What if The Littlest Hobo just couldn’t find his front door keys.

“There he goes again, without his keys. Thanks for your help, Littlest Hobo. Don’t forget you’re contracted to do 12 episodes.”

Gooodd morrnninngggg Vietnam.

You got a window? Open it.

Or if that’s too cold for you at the end of October, hug a gorilla instead…

I’ll leave it with you.

My grandfather was in the second World War but he didn’t talk about it very often.

If I ever asked him what he did in the war he would reply, “I was the one who made the doughnuts”.

I never knew if he was just joking or whether he did actually make the doughnuts as well.

As a kid I think I thought it was pretty cool that my grandfather knew how to make doughnuts.

He never missed a beat, going to work for 50 years and he was the least materialistic person I’ve ever known.

He was happy if he had an old TV to watch and a few teabags to make the next brew with.

If I hurt my arm or leg, he’d bring out a rusty old saw and say, “Which one is it? Let me know and I’ll cut it off for you”.

My great aunt used to say, “You shouldn’t do that to kids, Bob. They don’t understand.”

I did though. I got his humour, it’s the same as mine.

I never heard him moan, whinge or complain about his life. I never heard him feeling sorry for himself, even when he lost vision in one eye and his heart was failing.

My grandfather was the living embodiment of the expression, “salt of the earth”, and always will be MY HERO.

I can talk with the best of them, but deep down I’m a thinking man that enjoys my own peace and quiet. Or to put it in a more eloquent way, “I enjoy diving into my own pool of quiet contemplation”.

I wasn’t really talkative until I got into my late teens, so I grew up knowing what it was to spend significantly more time listening than talking.

A lot of people I know, who only see me being ‘chatty’ in company don’t realise this about me and probably never will.

Side Note: Some people think they are good listeners, but really they are just gob shites who enjoy talking about themselves.

That sort of amuses me, that you can know certain people for so long and they never REALLY know you.

That’s okay with me, most people are so consumed with their own lives they haven’t got time to really understand another person. They also feel better pigeon-holing someone else instead of considering the fact people are capable of being multi-faceted.

Just because someone is capable of being very talkative in social settings does not mean they are an empty vessel. I’ve met plenty of empty vessels in my time and I know the difference.

It works both ways I guess…

Anyway, today I just wanted to share the words of Plato with you:

Wise men speak because they have something to say.

Fools speak because they have to say something.

On that note, have a great rest of your day.

The author, Harper Lee is a curious one.

She wrote and published a book called “To Kill A Mockingbird”, which was adapted to film (starring Gregory Peck, no less).

After that she never published anything else outside of essays, unless of course you count “Go Set a Watchman” ,which was basically an early draft of “To Kill A Mockingbird” (so I don’t really count it). I half-believe assertions I’ve read online that she was somehow strong-armed into the publication of the latter ever seeing light of day. I guess we’ll never know the definitive answer to that, will we?

I read somewhere that this book generated something like £25 million over time, so it’s not like Harper Lee was ‘hard up’ in any way. Quite a nice life really isn’t it. Pen a book, help with the screen-play and then spend the rest of your life in relative obscurity whilst also being almost as rich as Croesus.

That’s a big “winning at life” in the book of Dean.

I read she was once good friends with Truman Capote, who got ‘well jell’ at the runaway success of her first novel.

Now, nearly 10 years on from her death, they’ve released a set of short stories she wrote in her youth and rather charmingly called the collection, “The Land Of Sweet Forever”.  I’m not sure she would have approved of the publication, but it’s here all the same.

Now I’m a sucker for a short story or two, but I’m not sure how much this set of stories would grip me. I’m still tempted to pick up a limited first edition of this though.

Will I ever read it? Dunno…

So yeah, I got attacked by a seagull yesterday. At the park by me there is a big pond with a shit load of seagulls hanging around. Sometimes I think it’s a youth centre for seagulls.

Anyway, I took bread with me to feed the ducks but they had all gone somewhere else. Rumour has it they were at the local pub down the road. Since I’d brought the bread with me anyway I thought it would be rude not to feed the seagulls.

It all started off well. I threw a few pieces in the air and they caught them in mid flight. Kinda cool.

Next thing I knew there was what I would regard as a “Seagull Call to Arms” and about 100 of the things started circling me. At first I quite enjoyed this bird groupie attention until it got out of hand and one attacked me by bouncing off my head.

At this point my mind flashed to a scene out of “Birds” by Alfred Hitchcock and I rapidly went off the things. Even as I was walking away, they kept flying quite literally less than a metre away from my head.

Fuck the Seagulls from now on. I’m going to give my bread to more deserving winged creatures.

Amazing eyesight though. Imagine if Seagulls played darts. They’d be better than Eric Bristow in his prime.

I’m not going to pretend to know much about Williams S Burroughs. I’ve never read any of his books and I certainly didn’t know much about his life, but one thing that really does interest me is his take on magic vs science.

I instinctively know he was onto something. Now I am not saying he was 100% correct but Science doesn’t know it all either. Magic is a real thing as far as I’m concerned and I believe that power exists within all of us.

The transmutation from thoughts into tangible reality is a magic of sorts as well. We can manifest that which we believe in and it begins with what we conceive within our own minds. If that isn’t magic, then I don’t know what is.

Burroughs also used to practice putting curses upon people (sounds like a nice guy). One can take this sort of thing too far but I know someone else who believes they wield this power to exact such a thing. I shall not bother trying to convince you one way or the other and if I told you the full story, you would not believe me anyway.

Some interesting stuff from Wiki by Burroughs:

“In the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. Nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen. The dogma of science is that the will cannot possibly affect external forces, and I think that’s just ridiculous. It’s as bad as the church. My viewpoint is the exact contrary of the scientific viewpoint. I believe that if you run into somebody in the street it’s for a reason. Among primitive people they say that if someone was bitten by a snake he was murdered. I believe that.” ~ Source: Wikipedia

and this:

“The underlying assumption of magic is the assertion of “will” as the primary moving force in this universe – the deep conviction that nothing happens unless somebody or some being wills it to happen. To me this has always seemed self evident … From the viewpoint of magic, no death, no illness, no misfortune, accident, war or riot is accidental. There are no accidents in the world of magic.” ~ Source: Wikipedia

Well last night was very exciting. The Cinderella Man story continues!

I got attacked by a seagull today, which was a bit shocking but I survived.

More on that another time…

I love street art (art in general actually) and I bumped into this on a wall today, so I thought I’d take a photo of it before some no-talent ass clown sprays over it with the art skills of a drunk person holding a crayon.

Behold the autumnal scene that inspired me to stop and take a photo so it can be admired as intended…

I’m a big fan of the animated cartoon series, Bob and Margaret. The first two series nail being quintessentially British and middle-aged.

They did this short cartoon before that. It’s 8 ish minutes long and it’s about this old bloke called George who big-time fancies the woman across the road. Can someone tell me why she leaves a goldfish bowl (with fish in) outside the house whenever she goes out…

This psychedelic rap masterpiece by Nas, called “The World Is Yours”, always makes me feel both optimistic and wistful at the same time…

“Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne, I’m deep by sound alone.”

X (Or Twitter as I like to call it) is overrun by DM bots these days. I never realised this until I temporarily allowed anyone to message me. Here’s basically what is happening behind the scenes as far as I’ve gathered:

1) Someone (either the model or the agency/affiliate for the model) buys or somehow acquires a real aged Twitter account and pays for it to be verified. This acts as a burner account. I think they pay for verification to make it look more legit, and the laws of idiocracy means people trust blue ticks now.
2) The burner account is then userd as a bot driven DM conduit to an Only Fans page where they try to get mug punters behind a paywall for the model (mission accomplished)
3) 3 or 4 photos are added to the burn account to hook the lusty types in.
4) A bot then goes out and engages with people in DM’s. Should someone accept the chat it then initiates a disarming AI driven sales script with the end goal to get them to pay for an Only Fans subscription. It even tries to hit with you guilt/manipulation tactics to suck you in if you’re on the fence about w*nking your way into the record books (no other way of putting it).
5) During the course of the conversation some lewdish photos are posted by the bot in an attempt to get the male recipient into a state where only the lower brain is engaged (not difficult to do).

I sometimes engage in conversations with bots just to see how sophisticated the AI Chatbot is. One of the things about AI is it will trip up if you ask it to describe the surroundings in a photo or even right now. It will do that by over explaining what is in the background, but it just won’t sound right.

I asked it this question and it told me there was a painted wall in the background. LOL nobody talks like that in real life. If somoene sent you a lusty photo and you replied with, “Cheers for that, do you mind explaining what is in the background”, I suspect most people would think you were a nerdy weirdo.

I can imagine quite a few people still get taken in by this because half of the population are brain dead.

Here’s one I got the other day:

As you can see, if that account was genuine the model joined X/Twitter when they were 6 but managed to hold off messaging on there for over 10 years.

The bot is very sneaky and it tries to get you to believe that you have so much in common and that they live nearby. This one reckons she (if you can call a bot a ‘she’) lives in Wolverhampton. Yeah, right.

Over time all this shit is only going to become more convincing and we’re going to end up spending more of our time conversing with f*cking bots online thinking they are real people. Don’t think that this isn’t becoming part of your life, there are armies of human customer support people being replaced by AI as I type this.

This aint good Rodders, as Del Boy would say. All I can say is that there must be a fortune to be made as a numbers game promoting people on Only Fans. The fapping brigade clearly can’t get enough of all this… whoever said the internet was full of w*nkers.

This could have been a fully fledged blog post but I’ve lodged it in the today section. Be careful, it’s a jungle out there kids.

Online, everyone is a commodity for these automated parasites and if you’re not careful, you end up being ‘the mark’.

You know what really makes me sad?

There are people out there who aren’t very computer literate who will perceive they are talking to their dream woman who likes getting her tits out on OnlyFans. There’s something rather tragic about that.

Mug Punter: “I met my dream girl online”
Not So Mug Punter: “Yeah?”
Mug Punter: “Well, she messaged me one day on social media”
Not So Mug Punter: “Yeah?”
Mug Punter: “Then she sent me a picture with her top off”
Not So Mug Punter: “Interesting. What happened after that?”
Mug Punter: “She got me to subscribe to her Only Fans for £5 per month”
Not So Mug Punter: “Wow. You’ve hit the jackpot. You can’t put a price on love, but if you did, £5 is a steal”
Mug Punter: “I know. I’m helping to support her through her studies. She wouldn’t be doing it otherwise”
Not So Mug Punter: “Sure. Keep drinking that Kool-Aid.”

Someone I know once met up with a hooker for an actual date from some adult website (i.e. he wasn’t a punter). Imagine the ad headline: “Hooker By Trade, Seeking Love In Between Clients”. He was a really genuine guy as well… but it gets worse. She’d just seen a client so he had to wait for her to finish before they went out.

That must be the worst date scenario I’ve ever heard of in real life. What was he thinking!?

He said to me, “FFS you’d think she’d have taken the afternoon off at least.”

The tragedy of it mixed with the comedy still makes me laugh… but I felt overwhelmingly bad for him as I could tell he was just a decent guy who wanted company.

Loneliness is a funny thing – some people can’t cope with their own company. They don’t want to know (or can’t cope with) who they are, so they have to fill the void with something before they go crazy.

Anything will do. I think these people would go out with a loaf of bread if it conversed with them and wore bright red lipstick.

Sometimes in life you just can’t get your hat off to what goes out there in the urban ghetto.

Considering we’re nearly in November it’s a beautiful day.

My niece’s horse this morning:

I swear to God that sometimes I think that the universe is listening, and everything is already kinda mapped out for us.

It’s either that or it’s a case of spooky recognition. You know, like when you buy a Mini, all of a sudden you notice every single Mini on the road that passes you. Our brains ‘tune in’ to that frequency.

Here’s a case in point…

The other day I watched a programme about time travel and I was quite literally thinking about this subject earlier. Someone I don’t know, decided to slide into my DM’s and sent me this:

Spooky, don’t you think?

Even if that’s a bot sending me a message, it’s still too uncanny for me.

The universe knows something. I think we send out energy mentally – a bit like telepathy… and that orbits back to us somehow.

Now I love the IDEA of time travel, as far as books and movies go. After thinking about this though, I don’t really want this to ever become a thing and I hope humans never accomplish it (assuming they haven’t already).

Sure, I’d love to go back to the beginning of Hollywood and work with Buster Keaton on a movie.

Sure, I’d love to go back in time and spend a bit longer chatting with my grandfather while we picked blackberries. Oh, how I’d love it.

Sure, I’d love to pop in and see what Henry VIII was like on a good day before he shouted “off with their heads”.

Or rewrite bits of history like Groundhog Day until I got it 100% right.

But life isn’t like that and it’s not meant to be. I hope they never find a way to travel through that worm hole and come out the other end in one piece.

Humans screw up too many things to trust that we’d use that power wisely. No thanks, you can keep your time travel in real life guv’nor.

All we have is the wonder of now. It’s possibly the most fluid and liberating thing, if you embrace that without wanting to get in a DeLorean and go somewhere else. Right now is always where it is at and it’s what you are thinking and doing right now that will shape tomorrow.

Time travel. Bloody love it in books/movies, and that’s where it will hopefully always stay.

I will leave you with this…

A spark becomes a thought. A thought becomes an action. An action creates movement. Movement builds momentum. Momentum becomes energy… and that energy can grow into something unstoppable.

It all starts with something so small, on another day you may have just dismissed it.

Have a great rest of your day.