My mistake,
The communists are in fact to blame for everything. I consider myself to be one of life's button pushers. Allow me to elaborate , even if your permission is only given begrudingly.
Occasionaly I will peramubalate up to a pedistrian crossing, there will be a large crowd of people standing in a huddle, staring mornfully out accros the road, in much the same way cows do when you cross their field, waiting for the lights to change. But for me their wait would be in vain for you see none of them have pressed the buttons. And without this pressing of the button the lights will not change. I often wonder, particular if the crowd is of impressive strength, 30 plus or so what the course of this is.
Is it some amazing defect in intelect and understanding that fails to grasp the mecahnism for these crossings or is it just some terrible inertia and malaise which leads people to stand there rapped in their own bubble of melancholy and self interest unwilling to be the one to waddle the few feet to the left and press the all important button. A friend of mine proposed the more subversive theory that in fact the buttons do nothing, that all you have to do is wait and the buttons are there to make you feel you are somehow contributing to the process. If the later reason is true then the world we live in is indeed damned.
I always press the button. I bravely shoulder the responsibility for the liberation of my fellow beings accross the road by activating that tiny circuit. We button pressers we take responsibilty. Not nay sayers are we, not the kind of person who says "well I'm not going to save electricity until they turn the lights off at night in Canary Wharf". No we take responsibility. My amor says I take it to far and it has become a sort of mania and that I must press the button. I must have control. Indeed for us button pressers it is distressing to encounter an automated crossing where you must simply wait. We feel impotent, devoid of purpose an helpless. These automated crossings are nothing less then the vanguard of the police state.
So shut that door, report that crime, turn down your heating, recycle, and press the button.
This leads me to recall an odd event I witnessed in Paddington station some weeks ago when travelling to my country domains with my amor. There was a large crowd of people in the centre of the concourse girating and grooving and dancing and whooping, to no obvious cause. As I approached closed all were wearing ear phones. Apparently, the destination, track list and start times are predetrimened in a way akin to the flash mob and everyone turns up to get their freak on. They go all the way to a cold station concourse, sober, to dance to music only they can here. This is the most self indulgent pretentious pointless abaration of "personal expression" I have ever encounter. The sheep like mentilty required to participate must be astonishing. No doubt some of the people there were video poets or light sculpters or other such types. Bizzare in the extreme. I mean why, dance sure, dance in public why not , but arghh no. I'm sorry but it makes the self indulgent whitterings of us bloggers look like the zenith of social acceptance. These events are not clever, original and make no statement about society or social interaction. They only statement they make is what an unimaginative clot with a gapping social void in your life you are to attend. No doubt many of them went on from there to listen to militant vegan poetry "You are all vampires! I did not want to be a vamipre etc!"
Speaking of which some where no doubt at brick lane and Ginglik, but my patience is wearing down now, i have not conusmed christmas cake for at least five minutes. There is much more to tell dear fools including the evil works christmas party.
For those of you who made it this far. How are you all? A merry christmas Jim, Liz. Sorry I missed you. I will organise a meet in the new year.
Occasionaly I will peramubalate up to a pedistrian crossing, there will be a large crowd of people standing in a huddle, staring mornfully out accros the road, in much the same way cows do when you cross their field, waiting for the lights to change. But for me their wait would be in vain for you see none of them have pressed the buttons. And without this pressing of the button the lights will not change. I often wonder, particular if the crowd is of impressive strength, 30 plus or so what the course of this is.
Is it some amazing defect in intelect and understanding that fails to grasp the mecahnism for these crossings or is it just some terrible inertia and malaise which leads people to stand there rapped in their own bubble of melancholy and self interest unwilling to be the one to waddle the few feet to the left and press the all important button. A friend of mine proposed the more subversive theory that in fact the buttons do nothing, that all you have to do is wait and the buttons are there to make you feel you are somehow contributing to the process. If the later reason is true then the world we live in is indeed damned.
I always press the button. I bravely shoulder the responsibility for the liberation of my fellow beings accross the road by activating that tiny circuit. We button pressers we take responsibilty. Not nay sayers are we, not the kind of person who says "well I'm not going to save electricity until they turn the lights off at night in Canary Wharf". No we take responsibility. My amor says I take it to far and it has become a sort of mania and that I must press the button. I must have control. Indeed for us button pressers it is distressing to encounter an automated crossing where you must simply wait. We feel impotent, devoid of purpose an helpless. These automated crossings are nothing less then the vanguard of the police state.
So shut that door, report that crime, turn down your heating, recycle, and press the button.
This leads me to recall an odd event I witnessed in Paddington station some weeks ago when travelling to my country domains with my amor. There was a large crowd of people in the centre of the concourse girating and grooving and dancing and whooping, to no obvious cause. As I approached closed all were wearing ear phones. Apparently, the destination, track list and start times are predetrimened in a way akin to the flash mob and everyone turns up to get their freak on. They go all the way to a cold station concourse, sober, to dance to music only they can here. This is the most self indulgent pretentious pointless abaration of "personal expression" I have ever encounter. The sheep like mentilty required to participate must be astonishing. No doubt some of the people there were video poets or light sculpters or other such types. Bizzare in the extreme. I mean why, dance sure, dance in public why not , but arghh no. I'm sorry but it makes the self indulgent whitterings of us bloggers look like the zenith of social acceptance. These events are not clever, original and make no statement about society or social interaction. They only statement they make is what an unimaginative clot with a gapping social void in your life you are to attend. No doubt many of them went on from there to listen to militant vegan poetry "You are all vampires! I did not want to be a vamipre etc!"
Speaking of which some where no doubt at brick lane and Ginglik, but my patience is wearing down now, i have not conusmed christmas cake for at least five minutes. There is much more to tell dear fools including the evil works christmas party.
For those of you who made it this far. How are you all? A merry christmas Jim, Liz. Sorry I missed you. I will organise a meet in the new year.