... Trix are for Kids

I’ve missed most of the Formula One season so far this year due to unforeseen circumstances, as most often are, so I’m only just starting to catch up. The one sport I actually follow with more than my eyes is the one that, unfortunately, draws a huge wannabe posse around here… dumbasses cheering for the red just to be in esteemed company. Tifosi, my ass. Motorsport is not soccer or tennis or any of those other games which are comprehensible to the everyday moron.

I don’t have anything against women in sport, as long as they compete against women ONLY. As far as I’m concerned, they can either watch and be silent or participate, but only when other women are involved (Although it would be incredibly easy to get sucked into the whole “women drivers” embargo right here, I am restraining myself due to constraints of time and sensibility). None of that “equal rights” bullshit. Feminism is the sorriest excuse for a movement since mankind was invented. It only succeeds in accomplishing the geometric opposite of what its supposed goals are.
A woman shouldn’t be competing in or commenting on men’s sport on the same plane as a man unless she’s exceptionally good at it. I won’t name names, but there are a few women today who can do with this advice. A guy, on the other hand, can often get away with some pretty mediocre shit.
The only formula feminity (or femininity??) that I know of are the pit lane chicks that glossy up the photo shoots and shade the drivers while they wait on the starting straight. That’s the way it should be, eye candy and nothing more. But now ESPN has a woman sitting AND SPEAKING beside an accomplished driver, hosting the show on raceday. Paula… baby… stick to Friday releases and Billboard countdowns and leave the men’s stuff to the men who know their stuff.

At the same time, in a city where pedestrians and motorists alike believe that they own the roads, I’m the one who, instead of swerving to avoid a woman crossing the street, waits to lets her pass. A guy in her position wouldn’t get the time of day from me, though. It isn’t purposeful chivalrous intent, but more of habit. The part that I really enjoy is the somewhat embarrassed, somewhat confused, somewhat amused and totally surprised smile that almost always flashes across their lips immediately after.


It’s no secret that the earth is in deep shit. Or rather, deep shit is on the earth. We’ve polluted, crowded and stripped it so badly that we’ve run ourselves out of home. Moon property is going cheap on the realty market with a highly optimistic idea of beginning to murder it too, starting 2015 (Nevermind that we have only ever managed to get two dudes to scout the damn place; and that is debatable too, apparently). Fossil fuels are rapidly vanishing as a natural resource while the world continues to guzzle without a care. Global warming has always been around, as a mild curse word that came up in classrooms but not where it really mattered. These days it can even be heard around celebrities and social activists but still not where it will really make a difference.

I do NOT believe that one person can make a difference, anywhere. And nothing was ever solved by a concert. It takes a concerted effort by a competent government that pushes the populace in the right direction. Whatever happened to government sponsored initiative?
Although it’s a smart thing, it’s stupid to ask someone to plant a tree. Unless you have a yard or a farm or just generally like to squat on public property, that isn’t likely to happen. But if we cannot contribute towards the solution, we can at least reduce how much of a part of the problem we are. Economize on electrical usage. Walk. Recycle. They all roll off the tongue quite easily, no?
This silly country seems to be playing the little brother card so that we can sit idly by and let the big boys make or at least attempt to make the major effort to clean up. According to yet another imbecilic “study”, apparently our “public” has the highest level of “concern” about the environment in the world. But that's where it stops, ’cos those same concerned assholes continue to disrespect public property, drive over a five minute walk and have fifteen lamps on at a time in their homes.
And while everything is going down the toilet, petty struggle over nuclear deals goes on in the background… sure, EXACTLY what we need!

At this stage, it’s no more about fixing the problem, we can only try to prolong the inevitable by making sure that we don’t doom our immediate generations. The beginning of the end arrived a long time ago.


I’ve actually had a pretty damn good year after many attempts at it and with the two four coming up in a coupla days, I’m not all that unhappy for once.

The Smashing Pumpkins – 1979
Marcy Playground – Sex and Candy