To the end

7/31/2010 01:50:00 am / The truth was spoken by Rich /

Manual Almunia: If that's what you call home grown you can keep it.


Is it possible I'm blogged out? I've found recently after washing my hands with the world for the fourth or fifth time that I have no motivation to discuss anything. There's many many things occurring as we speak that just a few months ago would have had my blood angried up to boiling point, now I just sort of sigh and continue on with my sandwich.

Do blogs have a natural life span? Can you grow out of them, or recede from them even? Who cares. Perhaps it's like ditching a Sheila. When you press buttons and nothing occurs it's time to put your pants back on and just watch telly? Perhaps it's the humidity, but whatever the ins and outs of the situation, the long and short of it is I'm simply not interesting or interested anymore.

Take football for example, there's a nonsense rule they've introduced this season to limit the number of "foreign" players teams can include in their squads. They must have eight "home grown" players of a twenty-five man squad.

However..by home grown they don't mean wee English lads with wispy little tashes and silly haircuts. Home grown just means any player who's been registered with an English club for at least 36 months regardless of age or nationality. And it only applies to the Premier League games, not the FA Cup, Europe or the other thing, the Carling thing.

This helps the national team how? I've already discussed many times why England are shit. And this will encourage clubs to live within their means how? As Arsene Wenger pointed out - it's always Arsene Wenger who has to show these people what nonsenses their rules are - big clubs will now have a surplus of players, expensive players and the only way the smaller clubs will be able to claim them is to either over-stretch themselves financially or have their wages subisidised by the bigger club, which is undesirable for all concerned. Gay.

* * *

In other news, it appears this catastrophic environmental disaster in the Gulf of Mexico has been greatly exaggerated and so far only four sea otters have died and three dolphins were unwell for a few days. While Barrack Obama was busy telling the world that BP had poisoned the Gulf and the marine and bird life were all asphyxiating as we speak and this is somehow as epochal as 9/11 - science boffins were looking at this episode from an entirely indifferent perspective.

Choke on that you squawking little fucker

Oil, they pointed out for starters - is organic, it's not a chemical, it is leaking into the ocean, dispersing and evaporating all the time. The Gulf is warm water which also aids the dispersal and finally, there's no evidence anywhere that this is even remotely as devastating as the Exxon thing. Finally they point out, birds are awful creatures anyway and if there's less of them to wake us up at 6am then we can all find cause to rejoice.


You see that's exactly the sort of thing that would have me chuntering away at myself for hours, but now I just don't give a hoot. The only hoot I care about these days are the many loud ones coming from the owl in a tree near my bedroom window. Loud bastard. Why doesn't it fuck off? A small lady approached me earlier this week asking for donations for some sort of Wildlife Trust, I offered her £200 if she'd kill an owl for me. She backed off and hasn't been back. There's no pleasing some people.

* * *

It's the weekend now and of course once again I've considered going somewhere to play poker tomorrow, but of course I'll instead wake up in the afternoon, hopefully earlier enough to watch Jessica Ennis bending herself into positions that make a man forget to get old and forget to die.

The venue I usually can never be bothered to travel up to is of course DTD. They have some sort of bounty thing tomorrow where by you stump up £75 - £50 of which goes to the prize pool and the remainder is your bounty. Half hour clock, 10,00 chips, but it's a 3pm start though, I'd never make it. Blergh. It's become a routine of not doing anything.


I've nothing else to say. I'm empty. I'm done, I'm finished. That might be it for this blog. I think I might call it a day. Perhaps if I started a brand new one I might rediscover my blogging mojo? A nice new one with bright colours and a view of the beach?

I had an idea to host the TV weather girl World Cup, but I haven't been able to organise it, I'd search for footage of various weather girls and then just get too randied up to put all the fixtures together and have to do man's business instead*.

*Purely by coincidence, after my initial
research Mexico were clear favourites


Perhaps if I had copy of the angling times handy to keep me calm I could get it organised? I'll give it some more thought. In the meantime though I think we've come to the end of this blog. It's not really been emotional, just something to do. The blog version 2.0 will be awesome beyond blogging beliefs, but until then some music..


video

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