Organised Slime

Fame and fortune and the price we have to pay for it.

If you are a female, famous and add to the qualifications above average graced with beauty, you have suddenly become the target of the paparazzi. These are the lowlifes of society that have no regard for anyone and would sell their mothers for a used cigarette butt, they waffle about in their cesspool little worlds of septic stench and taint all they come into contact with.

The sad truth is that if these festering boils of humanity had no market for their cowardly invasions of peoples privacy, they would become instinct and would hopefully cease to be and die a painful cold disease infected death.
So are they entirely to blame? No.
The publications that flaunt their wares like prostitutes invading your dining room during Sunday family lunch are as guilty for providing a livelihood for our blood sucking spineless leeches, they in turn are fed by the millions of readers who buy their filth and crave for any semi-disclosed glimpes of a breast or bottom.

We, the general public have created a monster so vile and evil that it will stop at nothing to obtain information be it true or not. They will trample on and destroy lives and families, sell their souls and trade anything for filth they can blackmail to the highest bidder.

The solution? I dont think we have one.
We live in a world were electronic data is processed and distributed quicker than the Kardashians can outswear an entire trrop of marines on leave after 2 years combat.

Once the damage is done, it has very little chance of being removed from the minds of those who believe it as gospel truth.

Nite all

Willie Nelson Rocks

I like Willie Nelson.

I am sure more than half of you have clicked to the next blog by now, but hang on. If I had said I like Kim Kardashian or one of her 20 sisters then fair enough.

What makes Willie Nelson stand out for me? His hair? NO! His music? Well some of it is ok. His acting? Um I think Chock Norris acting in a musical might do a better job. Then what is it.

He is a survivor. Born in 1933 and fighting the establishment and standing up for what he believed in has not made him a favourite with the authorities. He has ever always fought for what he believes in. In 1993 due to mismanagement of his accountants he was bankrupt and lost all he had. He started from scratch at the age of 60, me starting from scratch at the age of 43 seems like childsplay in comparison. He paid back his debts and his friends bought some of his assets and rented them back to him at a nominal rate. I too have friends that have lent me almost all that I have in my flat, I do own my own underwear and pride myself that these are replaced once they wear through in the gravity regions causing a free falling scenario I am very uncomfortable with.

He has been married 4 times and has 7 kids, he has been arrested numerous time for the possession of marijuana but I suppose we are all allowed our faults, this is what makes us human after all.
He has fought for and campaigned for many years for causes such as Farm Aid, Bio-diesel, Anti-war and animal and horse welfare.
In comparison, I advocate free speech (not hate speech) free beer (My Free the Froth Campaign is in its early stages) and encourage the "Hug Someone Daily" slogan. I have been married once and have 2 kids and  have only been arrested once but not charged.

Willie Nelson is a free spirit operating within a system made to protect the middle classes from any threat to their little world they have cocooned themselves in, he fights and sings for what he believes in and has more hair on his head than I have on my entire body.
He reminds us that we need to do more than just our so-called 9-5 duty, I need to leave my comfort zone and embrace my neighbours warts and all, irrespective of their religious, social and musical choices.
Yes opera hurts but not as much as Oprah.

If they dont like beer, have a fruit juice with them.

Nite All

Rocking with Depression

I know what it feels like to be tired, moody, angry, irritable and as miserable as a Liverpool supporter, I have lived with a desire not to get out of bed in the morning and not even the allure of an exceptional cuppachino able to rouse limbs that feel hundreds of years old.

Its called depression and is basically a condition that takes the rock and roll from the soul and replaces it with Michael Bolton ballads, a fate worse than eating extra spicy curry when you have aching hemorrhoids i am told.
My name is Ted and I am on medication for depression.

When I am on the meds, I cope perfectly well and am able to cope with most of life's curveballs, without them I am unable to process and understand and rationally deal with them at all, I am an angry teenager who cannot comprehend  the need for logic as it defies my irrational tantrum. I was convinced by my therapist, doctor and friends that these were needed and the difference has been life-altering. My biggest stumbling block was "me" and seeing it as a character flaw, I was too proud initially to admit that I was not able to cope on my own, I mean just look at Batman and how happy he is! I have tried to wean myself more than once and quickly realised that they were a part of life as much as my distorted sense of humour is.

So all was going well until I discovered that I will be in Lesotho a week longer than anticipated and will be running out of my "happy I want to cuddle the world" pills. I have had to move to alternate days and with the reduction emerged my old enemy, laughing and attempting to drag me down to the cesspool from where he emerged. The battle has once more commenced.

For me to do my Mick Jagger moves with the raspiness of Bob Dylan impression, I need the little pearl of stability that comes in a white capsule and henceforth I can Rock the Depression oooooooo yeah. For now my moves are very unlike Jagger and resemble a sloth without a Garmin.

Also have the odd headache to contend with, but the light shines and the tunnel draws to a close.

Nite All