Adventures Update: What the hell?

Before I begin, I should start by saying that I just dashed home as fast as I could purely to tell this story. Because it is that amazing.

I've been going for quite a few walks recently, just around my neighbourhood. It's a nice area. I've recently found myself amused by such wonders as the chiropractor around the corner named 'Dr Scarr' (Nominative Determinism perhaps?) and streets with names such as 'Wigtown Wk' and 'Jude La'. If I walk past 'Jude La' one more time and someone hasn't added a 'W' to the end with a sharpie, I swear to god, I will have to take matters into my own hands.

This morning I was out on one of these walks and everything seemed perfectly normal. Until, just a few streets over from our house, I saw a small, old man hobbling around a car wreck. The back section of the car was completely wrapped around a tree, with shattered glass everywhere. Naturally, I rushed over to see if he was ok, and if he needed any assistance. The man gave me a strangely embarrassed look before speaking in a thick accent of indeterminate origin.

"Eh... I try to knock down tree, but it not work..." 

Seriously. There had been a tree outside his house that was obviously not in his good books, and his simple solution for this problem was to back his car forcefully into the tree. Keep in mind, this was a big, thick tree and his car was like, a fiat or something stupid like that. I don't know what goes through a person's head that makes them think the most logical solution to removing a tree from their property is to embrace it with your tiny car, but I am so glad I walked the way I did today.

Also, for the record, I made sure he was ok and didn't need any assistance. He wasn't in any way injured, apart from his pride and his car. The tree remained unharmed.


-Smackie Onassis

Oh Internet. You so crazy.

The internet is great for many reasons. There's porn, fantasy games, user-submitted humour sites and a great deal of other things designed for the express purpose of keeping awful people well and truly locked away in their parents' basement. No offense, awful people.

Sites like StumbleUpon that let you jump from random page to random page of the internet might as well be called 'Go on, I dare you', but you know me. I'm never one to refuse a dare. I've compiled a list of a few wonderful things I have found in the deepest, darkest corners of the web.

I'd like to share that list with you.

First, there's the pages that have no explanation, but don't NEED one because they are just that amazing. These are pages such as the genre-defying Selleck Waterfall Sandwich or the free access television program featuring a man who paints while running on a treadmill and doing one other random activity. Here's a video where he paints, runs and eats a pie, but there are also clips where he blends drinks, makes pancakes and is watched by some kind of Jungle King, all while painting and exercising. Oh yes, get ready for a wasted afternoon.

While we're talking videos, I found an endlessly entertaining Romanian video site the other day. I found it after clicking on a link to a video of a man covered in bees, which was more entertaining than I could have possibly imagined. I initially watched it because I was thinking about that Eddie Izzard bit that you will know if you are as much of a comedy nerd as most people I know. But not only is this particular Romanian beekeeper (who, according to the video, holds the world record for being "covered in the most bees") completely chill about being covered in bees, he's so cool with it that he's going to drink a beer. Hell, he'll even smoke a cigarette covered in bees! In fact, he's so relaxed about all the bees crawling over his body, he might even ride a donkey. You may think I'm just being funny (if so, thanks) but I am only just falling short of directly quoting the video. I also particularly enjoyed the footage of a reporter getting hit by a horse, which I guess is the Romanian equivalent of the widely circulated 'Reporter Gets Hit by a Car' video.

Of course, then there are the little things. The small, personalised corners of the internet that may not seem that interesting at first. But people often reveal much more than they intend to when they use the internet. You might remember when AOL's search logs were accidentally leaked to the public and everyone started getting worked up about the user who spent hours upon hours searching for flowers and song lyrics, before switching to hours and hours of searches along the lines of  "beauty and the beast disney porn, holocaust rape, japanese child slave, molestation and rape porn, virtual children, 3d molestation and rape porn" and so on and so forth, before switching back to looking up Fall-Out Boy lyrics and orchids. 

But as much as I like reading about other people's sexual deviancies, I prefer the more subtle nods to an internet user's character. While browsing something I wouldn't be able to remember even if I were trying, I came across a site offering free linux software, uploaded by users. One piece of software caught my eye because of how unabashedly self-deprecating the description was:

Wallcal is a simple, stupid, useless calendar for your desktop.

I created this instead alot of useful calendars because:

- I don't like Aqua, Graphite, Aero. I like freedom, I love KDE, I'm looking for my personal desktop style..
- Some famous calendars don't work on my PC.

Every month it will show you a photo of my honeymoon in Ireland. Of course you can change them.

And sure, all he's doing is promoting his software, but with the few short lines of a product description, the reader knows that here, here is a guy who hates his life.

If it's baffling product descriptions you're after, wrap your eyes around this description for a recently released work of young adult fiction, one of those books that tries to be 'hip with the kids' despite the fact the author was clearly a middle aged woman from birth.

Madison still loves logging on to Friendverse to see what her BFFs and her cute new boyfriend Nate are up to. But the latest social networking craze is Status Q, which is all about rapid-fire status updates. When one of Mad's friends has to pull off a high-pressure heist, the gang relies on Status Q to send coded messages to each other...all in the middle of a school dance!

What's YOUR status? How about O...M...G.

...sorry, what was that about a heist? I mean, I vaguely understood all that blather about social networking, but did you say something about a high-pressure heist? I think you might have your angle a little askew, YA fiction author Katie Finn.

'But hey,' you might be saying, 'What is there for me? I like my women like I like my coffee. That is to say, with a good hot slice of crazy floating in them.'

Well, wait no longer, because I have the exact right woman for you. I'm not sure who this woman actually is, but her blog is called 'Naked Seduction'. In it, you will find a few blocks of text interspersed between photos of this girl, who is apparently in the films business. But judging by the sheer strength of the crazy sauce garnishing the entire thing, I have a suspicion that those pictures aren't the real deal. No proof, mind you, but I have faith that we live in society where suspicion alone is enough to have someone locked up for life. Here is a paragraph of her writing, with punctuation added by me in a vain attempt to make it a bit more coherent.

Yes it's true, this is what I do! This is what I do, the best to seduce you with, the nakedness, naked emotion, naked heart, naked mind and naked confession. Naked, naked soul and naked compassion. I seduce you with the pure naked me and my naked love. I seduce you like a woman. I seduce you like your best friend. I seduce you like you. I seduce you with the distance only on the other side of the computer. Seduce with the nakedness with danger. I am your mirror only reflects you...

That's right, she'll seduce you like your best friend, which is probably going to be awkward. But not as awkward as when she starts seducing you... like you. I have no idea what that means and it's still creepy. To be fair, after my attempts at editing that, I must admit that it does have potential in the ever-lucrative arena of performance poetry.

-Smackie Onassis

Bitches. Am I Right Guys?

I'm not exactly what you would call feminine. I have all the right parts, but I don't seem to operate them the usual way. I'm a tomboy through and through and as a result, sometimes, I just don't understand women.

I think I was born without the hormone that can turn a together, intelligent woman into a jealous, irrational crazy with little more than a sideways glance at another woman's assets. I have often sat down with my boyfriend purely to discuss the merits of another woman's assets. Sometimes also her tit-ets. I'm guessing the "irrational jealousy" hormone is the same hormone that makes it possible to so much as sit through the trailer to a Sex and the City movie, or understand the appeal of Twilight.

As a result of thinking more like a dude than a chick, I just. don't. get. women. But still, there is nothing that annoys me more than anything that can be associated with the phrase 'Battle of the Sexes'. Not only is it a theme that has been done so often that there is literally no original material left (studies have shown that the last orignal men vs women joke can be traced back to December 5th, 1982*), but women seem to forget that while saying men are better than women is chauvinistic, so is saying women are better than men. While the definition of 'chauvinism' is usually quoted as 'hatred of women' or something similar, it is actually supposed to mean putting one gender over the other, regardless of which gender that may be.

Also, it is completely and totally pointless.

I hear women talk about all the ways male-dominated society is destroying the futures of young women. Don't get me started on how pornography is seen as harmful to women, despite the fact that it is the one industry where women almost always earn significantly more then men, and never mind that men in porn are not only also objectified, but put on a much lower standing than women. Don't even get me started on that. But whenever I hear people who call themselves feminists saying things like this I really fell the need to point out that regardless of what the male half of the world is doing, time criticising would probably be better spent alleviating the harm women are doing to young women.

In my opinion, the effects of the porn industry on young women, whether or not you agree with what I just said up there, are peanuts compared to the wedding industry. If there's one industry I honestly think the world would benefit from completely wiping out, it's the wedding industry.

And yes, I'm serious. For once. You can't open up any newspaper without seeing something about how the world's economy is doomed, for new and exciting reasons every day. People can't afford their mortgages, small businesses are going under and generally speaking, everybody is completely and totally fucked. Governments are intervening left, right and centre, slapping the restrictions on thick and fast.

And yet, it's still perfectly acceptable to drill into little girls as soon as they can speak that if their groom doesn't spend $20,000 on their wedding, it means he doesn't really love her and her entire life will be totally meaningless.A five figure sum is seen as an AVERAGE cost of a wedding these days. FOR ONE DAY. ONE. DAY. Every time I see a photo in the paper about a young pair of newlyweds who will "never be able to afford to own their own home", I want to know just how much they spent on their wedding. To clarify, I'm not saying you shouldn't have a wedding. I'm just saying you shouldn't spend your entire life savings and then some on a single one day event.

For other new and original ways women are destroying other women see: mothers who encourage their daughters to get breast implants because "surgery is no big deal", and fairytales in general. My mother used to tell me about a lesbian couple she knew who, when reading fairytales to their daughter, used to change the endings from '...and she and Prince Charming lived happily ever after' to '...and she went to university, got a degree and then decided on her own terms if she wanted to marry Prince Charming', which I thought was great. Although I also don't like the whole 'Do nothing to fix your problems, and a fairy godmother will do everything for you' idea.

Cinders, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if you want to go to the ball, you're going to have to make your own damn dress.

-Smackie Onassis

P.S. Heat two of the band names poll is just coming to a close, and unless there is a sudden surge of votes in the next seven or so hours, it's looking like 'The Fistiest Cuffs' is going through to the next round, which I must say I am pleased with. In heat three you will be deciding between The Bourgeois Gestures League, Citroen Ella, Imp Proper and Randy Bourbon and his 'Day of Regrets' Band.


*Disclaimer: I made that up.

Hijinks and the like

I've always liked kissing strangers.

There's something thrilling about spontaneous passion. Meeting someone, striking up a conversation (not compulsory) and kissing for awhile before hopefully never seeing each other ever again. Or, at the very least, never speaking of it.

For me, the moment that best summed up this idea was with a guy who was, I guess, an acquaintance. He was the cousin of a guy I went to school with and we used to see each other about quite a bit. It was usually at uni, gigs or the pub, and it was always in a group with mutual friends.

One night, I was on my way home after a night out. As I passed by the pub that stood between the bus stop and my house* I ran into the aforementioned acquaintance. He was with one other friend who was too drunk to really participate in the conversation. We said a few words to each other, I don't remember any of them, and somehow found ourselves kissing. Afterwards, he walked me the rest of the way home, we kissed again and then parted ways. We never spoke of it again, and I was always quietly pleased with the way our friendship remained completely unchanged for it, the way we didn't even need to talk about it to know better than to make anything of it.

Of course, when I found out that he had an identical twin it did put something of a question mark on the whole event.

There were an absurd amount of multiple births in Newcastle. I honestly don't know what it was, maybe it was something to do with the coal. Or the steel-works, back when it was still running. I guess all that sheer manliness in the air started making the men's sperm super powerful, impregnating women with twins or even triplets every time they so much as held hands with them. It seemed like every year when school went back, we would see a headline in the local paper reading "Three sets of identical twins in same class!". I personally knew two sets of triplets.

Actually, the one time in my life that I ever babysat was for one of those triplet sets and their older sister. I'm fairly sure the only reason I agreed to it was because I read a lot of the Babysitter's Club when I was a kid and I thought that 'sitting' for triplets could only possibly result in wacky adventures, possibly even the solving of a mystery. Imagine my disappointment when we just played hide and seek for a few hours. I never did like children.

Of course, the sheer volume of identical twins meant that zany sitcom-esque misunderstandings were pretty commonplace. I remember when the band I was in played an all ages gig where it turned out the drummer of the support act was our guitarist's identical twin. Or when I was working at a league's club and a new girl started. A new girl who happened to be the identical twin of a girl who'd been working there a good few months. Naturally, she was placed in the same section, required to wear the same uniform and not issued a name tag for at least three or four shifts. Or the pimply, choir-singing twins at my high school who had the misfortune of having a last name that sounded a bit too similar to the word 'poo' to avoid hilarity, hilarity that was only increased when it was revealed that one of the twins was gay, but the other straight.


Sometimes I wonder whether my entire childhood was just a complex series of practical jokes.



-Smackie Onassis



*There are a ridiculous amount of pubs in my hometown, even by Australian standards. If you walked two blocks from my place you would hit at least one or two pubs in all but one direction.



P.S. Heat one of my band name poll is closed, with both Goddamn the Rhythm! and The Sentient Entities going through to the next round. Personally, I'm hoping to put Parsley Disaster through as a wild card, because come on you guys.

'Tea Party' used to be a phrase with such positive connotations...

Recently, I've been drinking more tea than I used to. At least, I'm fairly sure there was a time when I drank less than a million billion cups of tea a day. I only really started drinking the hot stuff while working in a tea shop with Meattrain and Vegatrain. You might be thinking that the three of us living together while also working in a tea shop together would make us the quaintest share house in the world, but you're probably only thinking that if you've stumbled across this page by accident and have never actually met any of us. Most people, when asked to recall the first time they visited our old house (which I believe has now been demolished?), will tell you a story that will almost definitely involve one of the boys throwing kitchen knives at a target. Just the other day I found myself asking Vegatrain why exactly it was that he set Meattrain's bookcase on fire that one time (it was because Meattrain had been using a deoderant can and lighter to throw him some flames). I have done my best to train them out of it, but pyromaniacs will be pyromaniacs. The best I can do is encourage them to throw wine around instead.

But back to tea.

I've been drinking a lot of tea lately. I have both a wonderful selection of teas and a wonderful selection of tea pots available to me. I've been drinking it for the taste, for warmth, for relaxation and even as an attempt to prevent myself from flying into a fit of murderous rage. Although my choice of crockery for that last one may have been a tad counter-productive:

Exhibit A

I've also learned a lot about the various types of tea. One thing in particular I have learned is that man, oh man, do I want a slice of the chamomile teabag industry. What a sweet, sweet pot that must be. You see, what a lot of people who buy chamomile in teabags don't realise is that for the price they would gladly pay for a cup of the stuff in a cafe, or for a small box of pre-packaged chamomile teabags, you could buy a whole pillow-case full of loose chamomile. All you need to do is whack a bit of string on that bitch and you can sell it for an utterly insane profit. Genius.

I've had a think about this and I'm pretty sure there are two reasons why you can get away with this type of nonsense. First, because most people don't know about it. The second reason is because amongst the people who drink a lot of herbal teas and chamomile and the like, you find quite a lot of a certain type of person. For argument's sake, let's just call them 'hippies'. You see, hippies are used to paying exorbitant prices for organic produce. And often, there are good reasons for those prices. But sometimes, I think it's just because the sellers of those products have realised what they can get away with. There is no easier way to sell someone anything than by agreeing with their politics. 

Customer: Bit pricey for a bag of leaves, innit?

Me: That's just because of the new tax you have to pay for not killing puppies. This flippin' government, I tells ya.

Customer: Damn straight! Here, have all my money. Keep up the good work!

There you go, you've just completed Marketing 101. And don't go thinking I'm having a crack at hippies because I'm anti-environment or some rubbish. As you probably know, I'm a vegetarian. In fact, I'm so dedicated to recycling that when I make a typing error, I'll only delete the letters I can't reuse for the phrase I was trying to write. It just feels so wasteful to delete perfectly good letters like that.

-Smackie Onassis


P.S. I hope you've been enjoying the updates from this blog's newly appointed 'Future Reporter', your friendly neighbourhood Vegatrain.

Hey It's The Future II by Vegatrain

Did I already mention that it is the future? I am pretty sure I did. Well, either way, it totally is. And here's why.

Deflexion(tm) Technology Textiles

This stuff is totes totes crazy. This range of silicone based impact protection gear is SUPER crazy, and they use it to protect everything, you can even wear it out cycling, and if you crash, it acts like silicone armor. Silicon
armor is no bronze armor but dude, you're on a bike! And they can make this crap into t-shirts!
This is especially useful for motorcyclists, because when they crash they tend to do not so well. Testing of a limb cover of the material showed that it reduced the pressure of impact by about 33% by absorbing and dispersing the energy. That's pretty important when you're, well, halfway through a motorcycle accident.

I don't know how I'm going to top th-

PHIRTUAL BEES
What? Oh man.

You know when you think, 'I like physical bees! But I can't have those because they will sting me. So I will get virtual bees. But the bees are too virtual. These bees are not physical enough!!!'? Well if you do think that, like I do, you'll love Phirtual Bees.

Hey It's The Future by your friend Vegatrain

Hey everyone!


Have you noticed lately that it's the future? I have. I know it must be the future because when we were in the present, we didn't have robots and shit. And now we TOTALLY DO.

(source:switched.com)

(from Switched.com) "Japan apparently didn't get the memo that the whole Space Race is so last century, so it's going ahead with a project that will confirm just about every hard sci-fi stereotype about Japanese innovation: they're going to put massive, intelligent humanoid robots on the moon. The Japanese space agency JAXA is moving forward with the $2.2 billon project that aims to get the robots to the lunar surface by 2015, and have them build their own unmanned moon base by 2020. Weighing in at 660 pounds, the proposed space bots will be equipped with HD cameras, solar panels and tank treads. They'll have seismographs and some other scientificky instument-y things, too -- but we don't want to lose focus on the fact that there will be giant robots on the effing moon. And even though the robots' masters will have a remote link on Earth's surface, the bots will be able to make decisions for themselves and operate with "a high degree of autonomy," according to Popular Science." 

Pretty cool, right. But I hear what you're saying, sure, robots on the moon, why should I care? I liv in Earth, man, y u gone talkin' bout the moon? If you are saying that your grammar is atrocious. But alright, I'll show you an even cooler Earth Robot:

What's this you ask? Oh it's just a friggin NURSE BOT. Here is the lowdown from engadget:

"NEDO, an administrative institute in Japan, has been working on what it calls the "Project for Strategic Development of Advanced Robotics Elemental Technologies" since 2006. The project has now entered its second phase, and boasts some pretty impressive looking bots. Murata Machinery's robotic delivery system (pictured above) which is designed to help in places like hospitals, delivering medications late at night so that nurses and aids don't have to spend a lot of time on such tasks. The company plans to test it and monitor the bot in use at hospitals in order to verify its effectiveness."

So! It's totes the future, case closed. 

So... how about that World Cup, huh?

I don't know if you noticed, but the World Cup is happening at the moment.

If you didn't know that, you're most likely being kept prisoner in a basement somewhere, in which case you probably have more pressing issues with which to concern yourself. But at least now you have an explanation for that low, droning buzz that's been contributing to the horror of your situation. 

I've tried to picture the person who decided it was a good idea to start selling vuvuzelas to drunken soccer fans. Sometimes, I picture a guy washing his hands in a sink full of cash, cackling madly to himself. Other times I picture a guy crying himself to sleep, haunted by the knowledge of what he created. However, in that second scenario, the guy is still crying himself to sleep on a bed made of money, so I think he probably still comes out ahead.

I have to admit, I was surprised when I heard the Cup was going to be in South Africa this year. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. You see, as dignified a sport as soccer may be, it does tend to result in an awful amount of rioting. I think they've actually factored it into the rules of the game. If your team doesn't win, then extra points can be scored in any ensuing riots, based on which team's fans do the most damage. Kind of like overtime, but more violent.

And South Africa, well, they're kinda known for having a whole bunch of riots of their own. This is what seemed strange to me about the decision to have them host the World Cup - basing a sport known to attract riots in a country known to attract riots did seem a bit like asking for trouble to me. What I'm guessing is they looked at the situation and decided that if they host the Cup in a country where there's already quite a lot of rioting, then the soccer fans can just join in with the existing riots. The result? Less riots overall! Smooth move, Sepp Blatter.

Oh, by the way, I do like that the President of FIFA is named Sepp Blatter. Say it out loud, you won't regret it. Sepp Blatter. Sepp. Blatter. I have noticed over the years that having a freakin amazing name seems to be a prerequisite for any kind of international sporting official position. All you need to do is brush your eyes over the list of International Olympic Committee members to confirm that. My personal favourite is Infanta Pilar, Duchess of Badajoz, although anyone who watched The Dream back in the days of the 2000 Olympics will remember Jacques Rogge and Dick Pound with a certain fondness.

Although, if it's memories of the 2000 Olympics we're talking about, my personal favourite is when the designers of the medals decided to leave Tasmania off the Australian map that they put on the back of them. I have not yet stopped laughing at the way Tassie got all offended and every other state banded together to say 'Have a cry, Tasmania!' and then laughed behind their hands.

Good times.

-Smackie Onassis

A List Of My Favourite Lists

I can't express how much I love wikipedia. There's nothing I enjoy more than interesting facts and if I'm craving a big tasty bowl of Knowledge Pops, all I need to do is hit that 'random article' button to find out that the study of neuroscience and free will is totally interesting or that Rufus Wainwright parties like a motherfreakin' rockstar. Then I follow the links from those pages and it's all one big learning adventure.

I particularly like the lists on Wikipedia. Mainly because they're usually well organised collections of relevant links, but sometimes because, well, they're just... amazing. Over the last few months I've been collecting a few of my favourites in a list of my own. The one that inspired me to start taking note of these lists was their category of Fictional Characters who Can Duplicate Themselves, a surprisingly long list that includes the likes of Gumby, Shredder and the T-1000. It wasn't the content of the list that amazed me so much as the fact that at least one person cares about this subject enough to compile a detailed list for the internet. I couldn't help but wonder what purpose this could possibly serve, why anyone would find themselves thinking 'Quick! I need the names of at least ten fictional characters who can duplicate themselves and I need them NOW!' without then waking up and realising that it was all a dream.

Then I remembered that this is the internet, where "purpose" is an irrelevant concept. If you ever ask 'Why?' the only necessary answer is 'Who cares why? Check it out!', one of the many things I love about this wacky world wide web.

Following the duplicators on my list were another few that were just plain old interesting, such as the lists of Messiah Claimants or Sole Survivors. I wish I could say I was surprised to see how many people are claiming to be the Messiah, but gee whiz, Christianity really did leave itself wide open for that one. I also found the list of Feral Children notable for only having eleven entries. I guess Wikipedia has a much narrower definition of 'Feral' than I do.

Of course, the real joy comes when you get down to the really oddly specific ones. I could barely contain myself when I discovered that some wonderful human being/robot had created a list of Ships Named The S.S. Lesbian. I know there's only three on the list, but that's enough for me. The list of Eponymous Laws provided me with a bunch of great new phrases to use, among them the wonderful 'Hanlon's Razor' ("Do not invoke conspiracy as explanation when ignorance and incompetence will suffice") as well as something to do with physics which I liked because it appear to be named after someone with the same last name as me, along with another guy with the last name 'Beer'. I don't care what the actual law is, I now use it when I need to answer the ever-present question of 'Should I have a beer?'. Just FYI the answer, according to the law, is yes. 


But possibly the most entertaining list of them all is the List of Ice Hockey Nicknames. The list eases you in with the type of name you'd expect, but I guess somewhere along the line they realised that they can't all be named Ace. So then you start seeing names like Dipsy-Doodle-Dandy and the very confusing Baby Dominator, who I 'm assuming was a roller derby player who wandered into the wrong building and went along with it. Then, a few names that are actually a bit clever such as 'The Puck Goes Inski' (Steve Buzinski) and 'Net Detective' (Jim Carey). Well, when I say 'clever', you have to take into account that these are people who basically get hit in the head for a living. You need to cut them a little slack. On top of that are the ones I find simply baffling, such as Cheesy, Grapes and Darryl, which I found confusing as a nickname for a guy whose name was actually Sidney Crosby. And those are just my highlights: the list itself is longer than your attention span could possibly be. 




-Smackie Onassis




P.S. I have decided to use my polls to name the band that I am eventually going to form. I have a list of adequate names, the only hard part is narrowing it down, which I will be doing in heats because there is just SO MUCH GOLD. In Heat One, you fine folk will be choosing between Goddamn the Rhythm!, The Sentient Entities, The Sexy Fenders (GEDDIT), and Parsley Disaster.

Facebook: A Public Service Announcement

I'm going to go right ahead and say it: I have never been as opinionated in my life as I am right now. I have always been fairly passionate, but at the moment I seem to have an opinion on pretty much every subject.

There's a reason for this sudden influx of ideas. Like most things happening in my life at the moment, it can be traced back to that dreaded CFI*. You see, before the Incident I had always been a terribly busy person. It was all study and work and theatre and music and writing and on and on and on. Then, suddenly, I find myself all holed up on the couch scarcely able to make myself a sandwich, let alone any of those other things. I spent a good majority of that time reading about issues and then forming opinions. As a result, I've got opinions coming out of all major orifices at the moment.

Of course, it wasn't the only thing I did with my time. I also watched a great deal of youtube clips and as a result, I no longer have anything resembling an attention span when it comes to movies. If a movie can sensibly be measured in hour units, I find myself wondering, 'Do they have anything closer to the three minute mark? Preferably featuring a pug?'. I could give you a full list of pug-themed youtube clips off the top of my head. I think that when they sell pugs, they come in a deal with a video camera and a youtube account. Which is just fine by me.

Due to the constant thinking, reading, evaluating and opinion forming, the way I use other aspects of the internet has changed. After noticing that I rarely spoke to a huge portion of people on my facebook list, I made the decision to do a mass cull. It seemed irrelevant to have more than a hundred people classed as my 'friends' who I never even communicated with. I even felt used, like little more than a cog in a wheel fueled by self-indulgence and false popularity. So I cut them from the team.

But it wasn't just that. There was also an element of self-preservation. You see, I have this debilitating condition that is unfortunately prolific on the internet. You see people afflicted with this disease on every messageboard, every discussion forum, every corner of the internet that some poor fool has allowed people to comment on. This condition means that if I see someone, anyone, express an opinion, no matter how unimportant, and I think they're wrong, I must say something. I have no choice in the matter; I simply need to call them on it. And, quite frankly, it was getting a tad inappropriate. I mean, when you haven't spoken to your sister in over a year and suddenly you're all up in her internet, informing her that whatever unimportant sentiment she has expressed is sadly misinformed, it does start to feel slightly awkward.

So I thinned the numbers. Cut a few from the team. And it felt good. The more secure, more select shortlist of people. It felt like some kind of elite group. Some kind of elite group whose membership was decided solely by me.

It was a buzz.

After that, I would skim my list of remaining friends every now and then, evaluating who could stay and who could go. I was like the mad and all powerful judge in some kind of awful reality tv show. I told myself that this was all just me being very sensible. I told myself that no longer would I be used to bolster some cockknuckle's gargantuan number of friends. No longer would my friendship be treated as a commodity. No longer would I fall victim to this online popularity contest that social networking has become!

But after a while, I found these deleting "sessions" becoming more and more frequent. I'd had a sniff of the power usually only experienced by Endemol producers and Southern US Governers: the power to kick people out of an elite group at will, with no real pre-requisites other than because I said so.

Soon enough, I found myself looking for faults, waiting for another person to slip up so I could slam my finger down on that button and declare to the world, 'NO FRIENDSHIP FOR YOU'. A power trap that I'm sure more than a few people have fallen victim to since Facebook's inception in the early 2000s, back when it was known as Facemash (seriously).

So I urge any of you, if you start to feel yourself drifting into this pattern, just... just let it go, man. Are you blocking that person because you honestly don't want them to be all up in your business on the internet, or because when someone says something stupid it feels good to punish them, damnit. Before too long you might find yourself doling out timed banishment sentences for minor grammatical offences.

So by all means, delete the jerk who updates three times a day with the same cut/pasted piece of self-promotion. Delete the guy who hasn't replied to your comments in just over 8 months.

But, be careful. Because by the time you realise that you're trapped, it will already be too late.

-Smackie Onassis

*The now standard abbreviation for the Circus Flip Incident. I feel it makes me sound just slightly less ridiculous.