The Occupy movement are apparently angry. I’m not entirely sure why. After all they’re living rent free in a public space near you.
That’s your public space, paid for with your tax/rate Dollars/Euros/Pounds etc. In most cases they’re using the public facilities again provided by your hard earned dosh, or in the ultimate irony they’re abusing their local Macdonalds or Burger King or KFC.
Want to try that with your little tent on any given day in your local park? Want to wash you undies in the fountain and string them up in the trees? Start your herb garden in the flowerbed?
Even if you claimed it was a protest (Children’s abuse of Sea Monkeys MUST STOP!)
How long do you think you would last?
What if you couldn’t even articulate your issue (never mind your demands).
“Well I’ve this anger see, about, like, you know those kids just don’t treat our aqua-simians right”
Apparently we shouldn’t label the “Occupy movement” as bludgers or free-loaders, as social parasites sucking the guilt complex of the collective because their “issues” run deeper than the superficial appearance of squatters.
Do they really?
They’re angry at the system, like a hormone driven teenager they’re angry at everything.
Naturally they’re bleating about their civil liberties, about their rights which are granted by the very institutions they’re protesting against.
Has no one pointed out that hypocrisy?
Of course their rights take precedence over the rights of others who might wish to make use of public spaces, like the pigs in Orwell’s Animal Farm their rights appear to take precedence over the actual producers in the equation.
If they were serious about abandoning the system they’re be out in the wilderness already building communes, trying alternative lifestyles, running out of government issue condoms.
That however may take them away from the flat even ground of our public parks, away from the manicured lawns and trimmed bug free bushes, away from clean running tap water and publically provided flush loos, and worse of all away from mobile phone coverage and the free Wi-fi leaking from Macdonalds.
That's how I would describe most of the titles I've read so far.
That my second thought.
So cliche'd and after a while very predictable.
The Superman comics suck. There's no other way to describe them. Cliche'd, tired and rather boring. Plus I hate the new suit, it looks like something rejected by the 90's X-Men as not looking stupid enough.
As I've said before Aquaman was the title I enjoyed the most, followed by Resurrection Man.
I...Vampire was rather too much True blood and not enough Interview.
Captain Atom (And Firestorm) are a little too much like Starlin's Doctor Solar, but without the fine art or crisp prose.
Green Lantern seems largely unchanged (thankfully).
Overall score F for Feeble.
Why did the Tardis explode? Was that ever resolved (the explosion was resolved....but the why?)
If River Song is in the space suit, who does Amy shoot (melody? how does that timeline work)
Why bother contacting Amy and Rory to witness your death?
ARGH I bet Moffat is going to give us a Cliffhanger.
An opening for a "Men in Black" movie?
Docked next to the world famous Opera house, in the shadow of a majestic bridge, a rust coloured ferry waited to transport tourists to Manly. On the wharf trains can be heard rumbling by, drowning out the strains of a didgeridoo. The player surrounded by Norwegian tourists. Two blocks away in the shadow of a freeway overpass a 10 story green building stands. On it's black sealed roof is attached a satellite dish alongside which is a rain stained white plastic chair with one leg missing. The north side of the building is festooned with plumbing and bits of green paint fleck where the pipes merge with the concrete. There is on the seventh floor a small gap between the toilet pipe and the wall. The toilet, a cheap Bauer porcelain bowl with a faded pink plastic seat and lid, sits on stained linoleum. A small white toilet brush and a bottle of "Home Brand" toilet cleaner hugs the wall. In the main room a chalk outline has been drawn onto the frayed nylon carpet and yellow "Police Line" tape criss-crosses the door.
In the room directly above a couple are indulging in foreplay.
Above them hangs an ultraviolet insect zapper.
Two yards away upon a conventional cheap plastic lamp shade a large fly mutters. "Idiot." It turns, and finds itself face to face with a grey wall gecko standing on the ceiling.
"That's Lunch." people.
I get idiot reviews.
To be specific I get an idiot who reviews.
A single idiot.
Every story has a point, a focus, an intangible around which it revolves. It is the point of the story defines the form.
I recently watched a movie called Invictus. Obstensibly about the 1995 Rugby world cup, the focus of the story is nation building.
The storyteller (Eastwood) spends a great deal of time focusing on political rather than sporting events, and justifiably so simply because the Rugby was a tool in the hands of a statesman.
I could spend an extraordinary amount of time criticizing the accuracy of Rugby or criticizing achronisms, but I won't. simply because they are inconsequential to the movie, inconsequential to the focus. It was an excellent cinematic interpretation of a troubled inspiring period of history. Which was precisely the point.
My idiot reviewer seems to lack any ability to decern the point of a story, in a review almost as long as the drabble he criticized my failure to describe an generic hotel room, to describe the city in which the generic hotel room within which a "one word" event takes place. For failing to describe a saucy sex scene, when the whole point of the sex scene was the "one word" interuption thereof.
At no point does he mention the title conceit (good or bad), the point of the story.
This is typical Dunning-Kruger behavior from an idiot.
Instead we should have defined the weather, the skyline, the 70's style motel room with coin operated magic fingers ( no not really). We should have (in a 500 word R-rated drabble) descibed the sex in pornographic detail, and no doubt after painting an architectural picture of a magical hospital, every gruesome detail of childbirth in technicolour.
and at no point does he mention the title conceit (good or bad)
It appears that Facebook and Google are in a cold war of asshattery