February 12th, 2007


The First Day

Yesterday, I had no need to hit the word processor.

Admittedly, there've been days where I didn't before now, but they always had a crushing inevitability about them. I'd have to go and work some more tomorrow. I don't have that now. It's an... interesting feeling.

Spent yesterday wandering around. We had breakfast and a large cafetiere of Kenyan coffee at a place down the Mile, then walked the long way around Calton Hill (past The Regent) to Elm Row. Speaking of The Regent: I know I've not been there in a while, but when did they repaint it? More importantly, couldn't they have got someone with colour vision to repaint it? Turquise and black are colours for a wine bar, not a pub.

Anyway. After failing to find rain-worthy gear for next weekend, we again took the long way home through John Lewis. And... I caved. I have something to admit: I'm a LEGO fiend. Not just any, you understand. There's a range at present featuring anime-style Giant Robots™ and I'm a fourteen-carat sucker for that kind of thing. Now all I need is the space to put the bloody things. And maybe a videogame.

By the time we got in, I were too knackered to head right back out in the hopes of catching gominokouhai in the pub[0]. Which was a pity, as we have much to catch up on.

In somewhat random news: I cancelled my City of Heroes account. I'm just not one for level-grinding. In all my time of playing, I could never settle on the one character. My current roster has three sitting between L6 and L8 and one at L13. I just can't work up the impetus to play one character for a long period of time and actually see them level more than once an eternity—doubly so when it's just a slot rather than a new power. The shine wore off, and the few contacts I had have all buggered off or hit 50 by now. Even with veteran rewards, there's no point in being stuck in the early game forever.

Of course I'm going to keep playing Guild Wars: Nightfall, but that doesn't have any continuous fees. I'm also being tempted by KotOR (the original) and NWN2. Give up one addictive game and another comes to take it's place.

[0]: Jolly Judge sometime Mon-Wed evening, poss. after you get off work?
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How Rude!

This is a rant. Yes, it's going to be offensive. Don't bother whinging in the comments unless you want more.

Apparently, I caused someone grave offense today. I walked past a person in the street even after he'd hailed me.

In my defence, fucko had a big, bright jacket and a clipboard. He was either a quizzer or a chugger. In other words, he was lucky I didn't do the human race a favour and shove him under a speeding bus.

Princes St. on a weekday night (I avoid it at other times like one avoids contracting the Ebola virus) is infested with drooling subhumans in bright jackets. Several are simply giving away the evening-edition of the Daily RecordFishwrap. They're easy enough to ignore, normally they're not in my field of view long enough to say "If I wanted that, I'd buy a fish supper."

On occasion, one will thrust a paper into one's chest. They prey on the instinct that makes people hold on to such things. These wee scrotes are the ones who should be pushed under a bus.Yes, it's messy. On the other hand it's fast, and from personal experience most Lothian Bus drivers would be glad of scoring the extra points.

More wield clipboards. Some of these are simply doing surveys. These quizzers claim that they're not as bad as chuggers and they're right, in the same way that genital herpes is generally not as bad as tertiary syphilis. Quizzers are the physical equivalent of cold-callers, though they're not as useful. You can't redirect them to twenty-quid-a-minute phone sex lines, for one. You can't hang up in the middle of a call, or turn their script on them, or any of the fun things. These people are advertisers and marketers, and should be treat as such. In the words of Bill Hicks: "Kill yourselves. Right now. Go on, kill yourselves. This isn't a joke, there is no punchline."

Given that the quizzers refuse to take personal responsibility, it's up to us to shuffle them off this mortal coil. The sensible way to deal with a quizzer is to kill it, mutilate the corpse, and post it where other quizzers can see it. Some of the more human ones may listen.

Chuggers are the worst. Shorthand for "Charity Muggers", these wastes of a human genome accost people in the street, trying to sign people up to make charity donations via Direct Debit. Normally, they suggest a fiver a month–you can afford a fiver a month, can't you?–and only later do you get pressuring phone calls demanding that you up your contribution. Cancellations aren't processed–a friend only stopped paying when she cancelled her bank account. Another suffered through six phone calls and was still receiving calls two years later, begging her to start donating again.

Chuggers are thieves, plain and simple. They're accepted thieves, working for "charities" that often need a quick firebombing to remind them that their donations are supposed to come from volunteers. That said, (to paraphrase Paul Tomblin), the PROPER way to handle chuggers is to smash the fucker's clipboard over his head, push him under a bus, then hire a hitman to kill his wife and kids, and fuck his dog and smash his home into little bits. Anything more is just extremism.

Some people think I'm a violent, cynical, man. These people have never walked down a British high street, let alone Princes St. So, fuckwit in the street, just be glad I was in a hurry because I was hungry.