All animals are persons, not all persons are animals.

A short quiz tonight fellow bloggers, how much of a monkey are you?

- Do you feel like throwing verbal shite on people you can't stand?

- Do you get an irresistible urge to go and meet up with your pack to sit in a circle and consume fermented fruit?

- Do you like to play with other people's hair?

- Do you stand taller and stare when threatened?

- Can you pick up items with your toes?

- Do you sometimes feel like you should have a tail?

And are you lucky enough to have some cat genes as well?

- Can you ignore people so well, they forget about you and leave you alone?

- Did you put 'sleeping' as one of your activities on Facebook?

- Can you go for a cat nap anywhere, anytime?

- Can you, during a said cat nap, answer questions or even hold a conversation?

- Do you play with dangly objects you encounter?

- Do you view other people mostly as a source of food and entertainment?

The more 'yes' answers you got fellow blogger, the closer you are to a perfect balance. Congratulations. Now go away, I need a nap before an outing to consume fermented fruit...

The benefit of hard work.

I see red when I read yet another moan about how unfair it is to reassess benefit claimants, and how dares the government touch the benefits, and what about the children??

--- Let me tell you 'bout hard work---

Well, here's the thing - even the nanny state government is unfortunately not made of money from outer space. It is made of taxpayers money and that means not your money, o benefit claimant and not your money exempt-from-tax-working-under-12-hours-a-week-to-keep-child-tax-credit parent and not your money o thirty year old living off parents loser who worked for a year in his/her/it life. It means my money, the money I put aside and throw at the above mentioned twice a year, knowing fully well that for that effort I will not get a thank you or a free dental care or a decent pension but a monotonous bunch of comments about immigrants stealing Scottish jobs.

--- You don't know nothing about hard work, hard work, hard work ---

The economy in this country collapsed a long time ago. You can't dish out money to individuals who never contributed and don't intend to contribute to the cash pool and expect it all to work. Bloody hell, even during the failed Soviet experiment of introducing equality for all under a red banner, everyone was getting (supposedly) equal amounts of goods, but everyone was also working equally hard! There was no unemployment during the communist times, because the government would find everyone a job. And now, for the first time in human history, who doesn't want to work has it easy... And I'm not ranting blind at you, who try and do something and try again and don't give up and work to make your lives what you want them to be and just claim what you need to survive in the meantime. This is about the lazy and the cunning and the pests.

--- How do you sleep at night? How do you walk with your head held high? ---

So, unless you're a true rasta, stop. Stop expecting that the government will always provide. Stop expecting me to give you what I worked to get. Stop pretending you have a right to receive all this. And if you are a rasta - "Jah will provide..", right?

Looting is the new eBay, man...

With all the analyses flying around trying to discern the cause of the riots I propose this addition to the flock: boredom. Tv coverage and photos show that most of the looters and window smashers were young. Out of 11 to 16 year olds who don't have much idea on what to do with themselves at the end of school holidays - who can resist a perspective of getting free stuff that's hard to buy from you're pocket money or benefits? Who could possibly resist adrenaline surge of running away from the police after smashing their cars with bricks? Who could say 'no' to their colleagues from some fancy named local gang without being called, oh my, 'a woos'?

In the words of one 15 year old female rioter asked why the riots started: "It's the government or something, right? Doing stuff. And the rich people too. But it was fun!"

Yes, most of these people will go back to school soon. Yes, most of them are too young to go to prison for looting, vandalism, arson, maiming, killing, terrorising and general mindless destruction. Yes, I would very much like for the parents to be able to discipline their kids if necessary without feearing that their 11 year old will take them to court. How long before the next school break and rising boredom and tension? Looks like 'Christmas shopping' and 'crowds in stores' might take a different meaning this year...

Pants rant! Also includes a suggestion of a new fabulous drinking game for the summer.

I'm seriously confused. Why the hell is every second woman on the street wearing flowery pyjama pants? I just have to ask - what happened to good old jeans?

Oh wait. I'm guessing this and that trendy, fashionable, cool magazine called flowery pyjama pants trendy, fashionable, cool and so it's a trendy, fashionable and cool thing to wear. Like the wellies in the winter. Like the leggins last summer.

It's like peoples can't choose what they want to wear any more, they go to the shop and buy full outfits based on what they seen in the trendy magazine, never mind it doesn't suit you at all, it's fashionable so it has to be cool, right?

Wroong!

Not only the street looks like it's filled with escapee H&M dummies, if you are wearing flowery pyjama pants you just seem to be prematurely senile, short denim jackets only look good if there's no rolls of fat flabbing just below them, harem pants are uglier than Ugg boots, gladiator sandals in Scotland? Oh such a great combination of golden leather and purple feet as the weather is Octoberish again and nobody, seriously, nobody looks good in leggins...

Fellow not-magazine-fashion-slaves females. Let's make it known again, that it's trendy to think for yourself, fashionable to wear what you like and cool to like denim and offensive tshirts. For now, how about a new drinking game - go out for an hour and for every pair of pyjama pants encountered on the street - have a shot when back home, being happy wasted - guaranteed.

Rage against the machines (personalised)

Although some scientists are still sceptical about it, I do believe in existence of electromagnetic fields that surround technological equipment and affect humans. I also started to believe in a biological equivalent of such, that affects technology. It definitely surrounds me.

Just yesterday I had an argument with a hospital elevator. For a good five minutes (and five minutes is a long time when you're stuck in a 4m by 4m by 6m box, that's clearly considering dropping you to the ground from 6th floor) I would press 'G' button and the elevator would happily go up and announce '6th floor, ward 13', no, 'G', '5th floor, ward 12' nooo, 'G'! '5th floor...' It only got bored after some other people got in but I'm not going back to that hospital unless I have to.

Automatic checkouts. A few times after feeding them with two handfuls of penny change (as it is a fun thing to do when there's a line of people waiting behind you hehe) I got a full handful of the same coins back as my change... and the amount of times they sulk and require assistance for no reason is unreal. I even got asked for ID to buy glue! Not Superglue, that you apparently need ID to buy these days, just normal paper-gluing glue. Spiteful little things.

Computers, mobiles, printers develop a nasty personality after being around me for too long and throw tantrums over nothing. Especially computers. They crash, blue screen and stroll slowly through brain check routine on startup them even though you switched everything off properly and refuse to perform certain operations for no reason. Yes, a real life computer says no. Awesome.

My mobile only allows me to open certain websites and even that after extensive negotiations. When it gets cranky it will 'forget' to let me know about new emails and eat through the battery like a starving hamster even though it's not doing much apart from lying in my pocket and, hopefully, monitoring emails. Voicemail just switches itself off the moment I'm finished with its setup. I'm clearly not allowed too much human interaction at all.

Oh ay, a lightbulb exploded a couple of times after I walked into a room and switched the light on. Literally, in shards.

So, should I go on a plane next week or maybe getting a horse drawn carriage would be a better idea?

Fear the nobodies, wanna be somebodies.

It's becoming a strange experience to turn on telly on Sunday afternoon and realise, that half of the programmes are fly-on-the-bedroom-wall documentaries about people. Not conventionally famous people, people who have done something out of ordinary, inspiring people. Just...

--- we are the nobodies ---

Oh, right, celebrities. Seems like an awful waste of language to create a word especially for people, whose only contribution to society is supporting economy by buying lots of stuff to be shown wearing on a telly. And in magazines. Seriously, when I pick up a gossip magazine, I have no idea who most of these people are. So, you have appeared in episode 3425 of some soap or other, slept with used to be famous footballer three years ago, released a single that never made it into top 20? Why, oh why should I care about you more than about my landlord, kid in a supermarket who picked up my Nectar card I almost lost or a call centre woman who efficiently dealt with my complaint? At least these three random people have some influence on my life. They...

---wanna be Somebodies---

Or the newspapers. Some celebrity woman miscarried last week. Probably, a thousand woman miscarried in the UK on the same day. Maybe a million or more around the globe. Sympathy, nevertheless, do explain, o newspaper editor, how is this story front page news...? Oh, and then there's the spouses, celebrities-by-attachment, how sad is it to be known and recognised by other sad people on a street or in cyberspace, just because your wife/husband/partner of undetermined sex is known for being known? The worst case of passive, not even life, existence...

---we're dead, we know just who we are---

Happy thought to end with. To a celebrity - so, if you are known for being known and you exist for being recognised and I don't recognise you, does it mean you do not exist after all? I hope I made someone cry.

We are all discriminated in the bonny land of equality

In the name of all hard working, tax paying, healthy, childless, young people, who feel discriminated on every day basis, I propose:

- fresh air breaks at work in a special designated area

- special seats on the bus for young and not disabled people with no prams

- introduction of tax directing - if you worked and paid taxes for three years straight you can choose what your taxes go towards and if it's not benefit scrounging eight kids running riot so called families, oh well...

- designated no kids flights to destinations overseas

- a right to punch anyone who starts a sentence with "These bloody immigrants, stealing our jobs..." in the jaw

Any more ideas, o fellow sufferers of so called equality?

So, if Fb is shite, why are you reading this?

I have been subjected to unusually high rates of social networking related moaning recently. Facebook is shite, Twitter is pointless and who needs them manky social networking accounts anyway? Well. Here's a simple test of whether you need one.

Delete your Facebook account and see how long you can go without getting a twitch to check it. Ha!

If there's no twitch, congratulations, carry on with your life, have fun, take pictures. Getting this uneasy feeling about not having anywhere to share them online? Ha!

No? Ok, chill out, go for a pint, be the last one to know that someone got pregnant/married/dumped because it's been announced online only. Feeling excluded yet? Ha!

If still no, than you clearly don't need a social networking account and, for the love of gods of logic and healthy insanity, just delete your account and stop MOANING ABOUT NETWORKING SITES ON THESE NETWORKING SITES! Please.

I keep a number of friends on Fb at 69. It amuses me. Culling from now on will be based on the moanie points allocated for comments such as "Fb is shite." You have been warned peoples.

That is all.

So, how does it feel to be immortal?

More and more often I emerge back into so called real world to realise that it's already happened, when we were not paying attention, fascinated by the shiny lights and new horizons. Humans went digital.

Who needs some complicated nanotechnology to map your brain and reconstruct it in hypothetical cyberspace? There's Second Life and World of Warcraft and OGame. There's virtual casinoes, cafes and dating rooms. There's blogs, foras and chat rooms on any topic any mind can think of. There's Facebook , Twitter and YouTube. You can talk and shop and lead a life you always wanted. It's all in your pocket, all accessible 24/7, evolving tired, disillusioned us into shiny, happy people.

And as we live in a culture terrified by death, no wonder we dodge grey reality to search for immortality. Because for the first time in the history of human race, it is within our reach. Kind of. Everything you type, all the photos you are on and all these silly mobile camera clips will stay on the internet forever.

And who knows? Maybe in 5-10 years your flesh and blood social status will be equal to your status in a MMORPG. Maybe it will be more important to score 10 000 000 000th Facebook comment, create the most impressive 30second movie clip and design the most popular backgrounds for Photobucket than have a family, career, good holidays. You will be as important as your digital portfolio of comments, smileys and likes.

And maybe it has already happened, too...

Bloodsuckers and dogs.

Just finished third book of the famous Twilight tetralogy.

Spoilers ahead. And a heavy dose of disgruntle.

The story is not bad, could be an interesting take on the old theme, but...

Main character - a whiny, weak, needy teenager, constantly grumpy with people and with serious social issues thanks to her whiny, weak, needy mother - gets in trouble faster than an rpg character with drastically lowered 'luck' stat and requires to be rescued over and over again, which results in many soppy scenes of fear (unnecessary as the object of her so called love is quickly defined as indestructible)/tearful love declarations/cuddles.Yaaurgh (sound of a prolonged yawn combined with teeth grinding). So called love is dubious at best, as in the very first book it is explained that vampires secret some sort of pheromones to make hunting prey easier so it can all be interpreted as a bit of fun with a drugged girl for the bored vampire. And, why consciously choose a cold, hard, corpse like thing (issues again of more seriously deviant nature..?) over a hot (literally), muscly guy that can also turn into a pony sized wolf that you can ride? So, funnily enough, main character kills the book, just like the actress playing main character killed the movies :D.

And the urge to have sex with something that has no blood circulation..? Well, good luck with that...