Cecil And Slacktivism.

There has been a lot of outrage recently regarding the killing, skinning and beheading of Cecil The Lion, the most famous resident of Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe.  Cecil was killed by Walter Palmer, a hunter from Minnesota.  Social Media has been the home of pictures of usually rich white people posing with the spoils of their kill for a while now. But not every picture shared contains a member of the British Royal Family, they also contain people who have travelled to Africa to kill animals.

So, what to do with that anger? How can you turn that anger into something positive? Well, there are charities you can get involved with, even the group with whom Cecil was a case study are accepting donations to further fund their work.  However, times are tough and money is tight.  Besides, what you with your money is your business. So what else can you do?

I know, I’ll share and like a Facebook post, that’ll do!

You see, I know you can say that you’re showing support and solidarity for a cause and that’s good.  The issue I have is one of consistency. That’s the thing with principles, if you don’t stick to them 100% of the time, they aren’t principles. They are a hobby.

The other story that is dominating the news and social media is the one about what is happening in Calais. It is commonly referred to as the Migrant Crisis but I won’t be referring to it as that again. This is a humanitarian issue, replace the word migrants with people and start from there.

The dehumanising process has already begun, don’t ever refer to them as people, let alone people in crisis, as other people might start feeling empathy. It helps that a lot of them aren’t white either, they can’t be like us civilised folk can they?

What you are doing is dehumanising them, calling them vermin and suchlike reduces them to something other than a human being, it reduces them to animals. Go the whole hog and call them swarms, they are animals after all.

But these animals are not like Cecil, these animals are ok to shoot. Send the army there to keep these animals in their pens, shoot them if they try and escape, they’re animals! Nameless, stateless animals, not like Cecil. 

Why don’t you share the outrage for domestic violence, or sexual assault, or sexual abuse (apart from when brown people do it)? Where is the horror for Sandra Bland and the other deaths at the hands of racist police? 

There is an oft shared quote from uber bellend Ricky Gervais which says something along the lines of “If you enjoy seeing animals in pain, you are a cunt”.  Well, if you profess to be a lover of living beings but want people desperate for a better life shot, you are a massive massive cunt.

Don’t worry, animal lover, I’ll still “like” the pic of your Sunday roast.

So Excited, So Scared

Frantic Planet dot blog

In the wake of my lazy, and successful kickstarter, it’s time to announce the hottest product to hit the streets since Buddy Bands.

There’s a tentative release date of around November, but you’ll hopefully be able to pre-order it within the next six weeks. Content-wise, expect a super detailed history of the show’s inception and production, and what happened to each of the important players after it finished airing. The centerpiece of So Excited, So Scared is the breakdown of each of Saved by the Bell‘s 86 episodes. As I’ve found out to my own sleep deprivation, these are an absolutely monstrous cultural landscape to traverse, taking on all the catchphrases and quirks you remember as a kid, but with elements that only become apparent through adult eyes; like television’s worst ever amoral sociopath, plagiarised character traits, unending attempts by the writers to bring down leftie feminism, and…

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The Mask And Feeling Like A TV Host

Hi,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m still living with Depression but thankfully due to staying on the meds, CBT and a great support network (mostly from my incredibly loving wife who never judges, is forever patient and all round wonderful) I’ve not hit a prolonged bad patch for a while. The only episode I’ve had is when a bout of food poisoning meant I didn’t get the effects of my meds for about a week and did “The Citalopram Slam”

I’ve recently changed jobs. I’m enjoying where I work and they’re a lovely group of people who foster a creative and engaging environment in which to work in. However, I felt like I’ve constantly had to be “On” with my mask of confidence and geniality, not letting them know that the mask hides major depressive episodes.

And it’s exhausting.

I feel like the host of a live TV show that goes on for a few hours, like an awards ceremony. Being as professional and engaging and charismatic as you can (obviously not like when James Corden hosts one). Then they cut to an ad break and you can rest, gather your thoughts and prepare for the next segment.

That’s what a break at work feels like for me. I sit in the canteen and readjust my mask, or leave it off by burying my head in a book so I don’t have to talk to anyone. And I know how that sounds, unsociable, rude, even arrogant. But the truth is it’s exhaustion and fear. I go over my CBT, control my breathing so I can be as calm and focused as I can, then wait for the director to give me the countdown for when the ad break is about to end and start again.

That food poisoning I mentioned earlier? That happened when I’d been at my new job for a month or so. I got a surge of bravery and told them exactly what had happened, about how I’ve been living with Depression for decades and how I take medication to assist me. And they were wonderful about it. It means a lot to know I’m fortunate to have an employer who is sympathetic and knows not what to say to someone with Depression. Couple that with my home life being great, all thanks to my wife of course, things are on the level for me.

There are good days, bad days, good parts of bad days and bad parts of good days. Maybe I won’t need to wear the mask as much as I think I do in future. Not that I’m going to go all Julian Clary and say I was fisting George Osborne, as lovely as that image is.

A List Of Good Things SISU Do For Coventry City Football Club

Exorcising Ghostwatch

A brilliant piece about Ghostwatch. Top top stuff.

Frantic Planet dot blog

Smoke & Mirrors and Steven Seagal on Amazon.com ($3.99)

Smoke & Mirrors and Steven Seagal on Amazon UK (£2.99)

Amazon’s FREE Kindle app for Phones, Tablets, Mac and PC.

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The Hard Done By, Glory Hunting Man Utd Fan.

There are few things in football more tragic— okay, I mean funnier— than a hard done by Manchester United fan. On the off chance a decision goes against them, and double points if it happens at Old Trafford, you can hear them. From Essex to Thailand, the bemoaning is from the same hymn sheet. The Good Book of Fergie has been translated into more languages than The Bible (allegedly). I wouldn’t be surprised if we were visited from beings beyond our galaxy and their first words were, “He shouldn’t be reffing at this level, that was a disgrace.”

Their symphony of caterwauling was heard around the world after Real Madrid beat ‘Man Yoo’ in the Champions League. Of course, what went wrong was when Cuneyt Cakir had the temerity to send off a Man Yoo player. At home! Where was Hans Blix when you needed him? Stuff North Korea, this was the real danger, Hans. Sure, had Arbeloa not jumped, he’d have got Nani’s boot in his throat but this is Old Trafford, you just don’t do that Cakir.

And of course, that cost Man Utd the game. Not the way Mourinho reacted quickly to the sending off by adjusting his formation, nor Fergie’s hesitance in changing his. It was the sending off that knocked Man Utd out of the Champions League. ‘Oh yes, it was!’ sings the chorus. And boy, did we hear about it.

Now, I live in Manchester and support a struggling midlands team. To be honest, on the whole, Man Utd fans in Manchester are wonderful, knowledgeable supporters of the beautiful game. However, I have found, and this isn’t exclusive to Man Utd, fans who aren’t from here have a reputation for being annoying. What irritates me most about them is their sense of entitlement. As if they have a right to be in the latter stages of the Champions League, be in the top one the league and have all decisions go their way.

Oh you’re knocked out of a highly lucrative competition that you’ll be in next year? Boo-hoo-hoo. Come back to me when your team gets relegated or goes into administration. Come back to me when you know your best players have been sold for pittance so you can dent your debts.

As I say to glory hunters: I’m not a better fan than you; I’m a different fan. In a parallel universe, my strugglers are the most successful team in England, with the largest stadium, the largest trophy cabinet, the most lucrative sponsorship deals, pay tens of millions in transfer fees, and where the newly appointed head of the FA is a fan. In that same universe, Man Utd are a struggling Football League side who have won one trophy in their history and are ‘financially embarrassed’. In that universe, I am still a fan of my under-performing side, but there is no way on earth you would be a Man Utd fan.

Perhaps I’m just old and jaded. We have the red button generation now, where you can choose which game to watch and choose who to cheer on. At least my friends who support Man Utd, Arsenal and Chelsea always cheer on my club as well. And it isn’t limited to the big clubs; even Liverpool fans cheer us on.

Still, if we can’t have a sense of entitlement, what can we have? A sense of perspective, that’s what.

From FarmVille To HarmVille – The Virtual Vigilante

I once got sucked into the addictive world of FarmVille, the Harvest Moon lite game that is on Facebook. It got to the stage where I was timing stuff like crops being ready to harvest when I got home from work. I had a few days offline and gave it up.

It seems as if there has been a few add ons to the game. Worryingly it looks as if they have spread from beyond the FarmVille app to the online farmers Facebook wall. Namely, manure spreaders and pixelated pitchforks. I first noticed this before, and blogged about Winterval and Silly Season, where manure was coming over from FarmVille in the form of ridiculous knee jerk statements about Muslims all hating everything British, despite them being British themselves. I put it down to FarmVille going beyond the parameters of its app.

However, the app has turned into a Silicon Salem Witch hunt over the last fortnight. The pixelated Pitchforks have been lighted and have made their mob handed way to the wall of unsuspecting online farmers.

I’ve noticed a few different pictures of someone who it is claimed, with no proof, is Jon Venables, one of the boys who killed James Bulger. Of course, the virtual vigilante gang don’t refer to the deceased toddler as “James”, but Jamie. Something his family never did. This isn’t the first time that someone has been accused online of being one of the Bulger killers. In a tragic story, a man killed himself after months of abuse.

In true Facebook fashion, if you didn’t share this picture then you are supporting paedophiles, or something. Well, this is why I didn’t share it and why you shouldn’t have. Do you think that there is even a shred of possibility that the bloke(s) in the photo might not be Jon Venables? If there isn’t, what evidence do you have because I’d like to know. Venables has been recalled to prison so why share this info now? Contrary to right wing beliefs, prisoners don’t all have Facebook in their cells.

Do you think that you might be subjecting an innocent man to potential abuse that could lead to his death? Do you think you have done your bit by sharing an unsubstantiated photo? Did you stop and think before hitting the share button? No,of course you didn’t.

I’m not protecting a paedophile by not sharing a picture that I have no idea where it came from. I’m protecting what is probably an innocent man. I’m pretty sure that in a few months, a different picture will emerge, possibly of me, declaring that this is actually Venebles. We got it wrong last time, sorry about that, but this is him, it definitely is.

I won’t be hitting the share button, I’ll be more than likely hitting the “Remove friend” button. Hopefully the next FarmVille update with have a “Contain manure via Snopes” feature.

Put the pitchforks down, or use them to harvest that fresh batch of crops. And no, I don’t want to play FarmVille with you or be your neighbour on FarmVille, because the chances are your farm is run by Tony Martin.

Dreams can come true.

So, for my CBT, I’ve been asked to write down the nightmares I’ve been having. It doesn’t make for nice reading but that’s why they’re nightmares. I’m hardly going to wake up in a cold sweat screaming my head off if I’m dreaming about fluffy bunnies being fluffy.

When I get to a laptop, I might write some of them up on here. If you’re unlucky.

Cognative Behavioral Therapy – Round 2

Don’t call it a comeback!

All things considered, I’m a really lucky bastard.  I have an amazing wife, she is a joy to be around, her intellect makes her an education on whatever it is we discuss and her relentless support of her principles and causes she supports makes her an inspiration.

I don’t hate my job, even though it is what may be called an Office Drone, it is always fresh, my colleagues are great people and my employers invest in their staff with training, support, and a health plan.

I get on with all of my family, we may not all be in the same city, or indeed the same country, but we all get on fine and stay in touch with each other probably not as regularly as we should but with every single phone call we always say we will correct that.

So what do I have to be depressed about?  Simple.  I live with Depression.

Even though I know that it isn’t my fault and that I do all that I can to manage the clouds and darkness that descend, they still come.  And every time they come, I always ask myself, what do I have to be depressed about?  The answer is I suffer from Depression and Anxiety issues.

Despite healthy living, keeping active, doing exercise etc, the demon returns when I don’t expect it.  It it here at the moment.  And this is why I am lucky.

My work have a health plan with AXA that they referred me to.  Today, I spoke to a Counsellor for an hour and, as a result, I’m going to do 12 sessions of Cognative Behavioural Therapy and my employer is paying for it.  As someone who loves the NHS, I do feel conflicted about going private but the way I rationalise it, is if I don’t have to use the already overworked and under funded mental health services on offer on the NHS, then somebody else can.  Or they can take one person off of the waiting list.

As I say, I’m a lucky fecker.  I know that it’s quite a privilege to have such a support tool on hand, even luckier that my employer is covering it.  I’ve done some CBT before and it helped hugely.  This time, I shall be doing twice as many sessions.

And to be honest, I feel quite guilty.

Guilty for both having the opportunity that thousands upon thousands do not have, and guilty for essentially being a lucky fecker.  But, as the Counsellor I spoke to today said, “Don’t ask ‘Why’ questions, as they will tie you up in an existential mess.  Instead ask ‘How’ questions, as they are far better for you”.

Good advice, I thought.

Silly Season – Poppies and Winterval

Ah great,

It’s that wonderful time of the year.  The time where bullshit masquerades as truth.  When the nights draw in and the clocks go back, I brace myself for the cretinocracy tsunami which appears on the Facebook horizon.  It seems to get earlier every year as well.  The two issues that cause it all are Remembrance Day and Christmas.

To me, Remembrance Day is about, well, remembrance.  It’s not about an act of supposed defiance against a supposed threat to our liberty.  I find it quite sad that people try to reappropriate a symbol of respect into a symbol of aggression, it goes against everything that those we remember died for.  I really hate the whole “If my poppy offends you then you know where the border is” mentality that exists.

No, your poppy doesn’t offend me, you and your sensibilities, or lack of, offends me.  93% of people won’t reblog this etc etc…  Piss off with yourself.  The best way to honour war veterans is to stop making new ones, not hating all muslims because 20 pricks burn a poppy every year.

Then, once that has passed and people stop pretending to care, the famous, and debunked Winterval Myth still gets dragged out by dragging knuckled lunkheads. Christ, EVEN THE DAILY MAIL SAID IT WAS A MYTH.  But that isn’t enough proof for some people as it means they might have to think for once.  But then again, if someone on Facebook said it was true, I’d better repost it or like the status as I don’t want to be one of the 7% who don’t have the balls to.  Also, if you give so much of a shit about this being a Christian country, why not go to church once in a while when it isn’t a Christening, a Funeral or a Wedding?

May your Remembrance Day be solemn, may your Christmas be filled with joy.  Nobody is trying to take them from you.