Monthly Archives: May 2016

Minority of one

Every human is unique, physically and mentally.

As our fingerprints are differnt, our minds are different.Some of us may be liberal, others conservative. Others still may have opinions on both sides of the fence that are simply unacceptable to the vast majority.

And we should not bully them into changing their opinions. Instead, we should approach them with love.

I have noticed that there is a gulf developing between the left and the right. Both sides are delving into opinions that I- as well as most others- find offensive. Namely that certain people should be denied basic human rights because of the colour of their skin, their sexuality, or gender- unselectable characteristics all. And that people on both sides are becoming increasingly violent against their polar opposites. Just look at the fights breaking out at Donald Trump rallies. It is my fear that people will be killed due to this gulf, and not just at Trump rallies.

Returning to my first words, every human is unique. And no human can choose their colour, sexuality or gender.

So stop hating and start loving. It’ll do the world a favour.


There’s a ghost in my house

So I just discovered that my house is haunted.

As I was walking down the stairs, I felt something tug on my shirt. I looked back and saw nothing or nobody there! I hadn’t got caught on the bannister or anything. I’m just hoping he/she/se is friendly and I don’t have to get the Vax out. And if I do, it should be a thousand times better than the Ghostbusters reboot (as a somewhat-woman I can say that not liking it doesn’t automatically make one sexist!).

And just because this video made me laugh so much. This is seriously the greatest US election cycle ever.


Letting the freak flag fly

So today I was reading an interview with a man who goes by the name of Prince Albert. He is a seventysomething retired English banker, and I can just see the thought of the well-groomed beautifully-spoken gentleman in a three-piece suit and a bowler hat enter your head.

But as his alias implies, he is anything but that.

You see, Prince Albert walks around Camden in miniskirts and bondage gear with piercings and makeup covering his face. His body is covered in tattoos and his hair hangs low in balding dreadlocks in the same rainbow of colours as on his face. And he isn’t insulted by people calling him a “freak”. In fact, he loves it.

I cannot count how many times I have been called the same for my unconventional mannerisms and interests. But there is no changing me. These are facets of my personality which cannot be erased and will be unique to me and only me (and whoever I may be reincarnated into). They will evolve as I grow while staying the same to an extent. And that is that.

So am I a “freak”? Maybe, but I reclaim it as somebody who is an outsider in almost every way. While I probably won’t tattoo and pierce my entire body (my mother would kill me if I did) I have no intention of grafting myself into a “normal” mode of thought.

Say it loud, I’m a freak and I’m proud!


Spam 2

You might remember this little piece from the past. I decided to create a sequel for the hell of it.

Oh women who experience dissatisfaction in the bed

Viagra pills for young men

Crashed this increased pleasure

With posterior vitreous detachment


How long till your boner goes away?

Anal sex knows

Rapid rehabilitation and relaxation

Fitness demonstrations from her gadgets.

OCD part 2

To suggest the mess on the floor was a product of stress is to digress from the rest of the nest.

This house is a tip, paying lip to grip to avoid a slip.

“Flash does all the hard work”, the advert says, but Flash is too much work here. Flash cash, electric bash, there is no distinction between clean and unclean in the world of the soap-sinner.

The toilet overflows with last week’s news, the shower waves in limescale. Lemonscale even. The faux-silver of the taps peels off.

And what are we to do when our prospects are due?

Is cleaning the house more important than making a living?

Well, you could kill two birds with one stone and become a cleaner.


The picky eater is confronted with their hated foods

I cook with a look of disgust.

I don’t like these at all. I wouldn’t even touch a picture of them or even say their name. To say I HATE them would be an understatement. If I was to rewrite the book of Leviticus, I’d replace pork with them.

Why am I cooking these? Why does their dirty smell permeate my nostrils?

Give me back my limited preferences.