Live and Let Live

I was going to post this in my "japes and jokes" section, but then I got to thinking....

Four years ago, a good friend of mine (with a sick sense of humour) sent me a link to Jesus Dress Up. Today, I was looking back through my funnies for stuff to share with my visitors when I found the link. Admitedly, it is irreverant, and those of a religious persuasion could be offended, but I find it amusing.

I also find it interesting though, because is seems to illustrate that the "wild frontier", freedom of speech aspect to the internet is being eroded.

The guy behind Jesus Dress Up, a loon called Normal Bob Smith, runs a website that seems to delight in "extracting the urine" (if you don't get it, leave a comment I'll explain...) out of anything related to the Catholic religion (among other things). He delights in not only the fan mail, but he also revels in the flames and the hate mate, but some of his visitors take it a step further and have forced the removal of certain content. - Why not build a site, or a blog, or start a counter campaign to put your point across? Besides, if you don't like his site, you can always try getting a little revenge

Surely, we are all entitled to voice our opinions, as long as no-one comes to harm as a result? - Please note: I am not talking about the sick stuff like child pornography, snuff/death related topics etc - There is no place for that sort of thing anywhere.

In an age of extremism, I suppose it's not surprising, but I for one love the internet for it's ability to provide everybody with a voice, regardess of what they are saying. After all, if you don't like it, just click your back button or go elsewhere.

I don't agree with, or like everything I see online, but with too many individuals, action groups and agencies imposing their views, rules and regulations upon us, the interent should remain the last bastion of choice and freedom. Don't you agree?

100 Smiles

I'm sure you've all seen them. The "100 things to know about me" list. Not sure what to make of them, they run the risk of being really boring, but I might try to make one myself at some point in my blogger adventure.

If you want the easy way to do it, try Michele's method, get other people to write it for you. See the list as it stands so far.

Selfish Dog Owners

Why are some dog owners such selfish scumbags? I don't mean all dog owners, just the ones who let the dogs crap everywhere and then not clear it up. Some lowlife left a calling card right outside my front gate this morning.

Perhaps I'll set up surveilance outside and then follow the culprits, then go and "pinch off a log" on their doorstep.

I know that clearing up the mess is not a pleasant task, but if you want a dog, thats the price you have to pay. I don't have a dog, I have a kid, and I don't want him stepping in it, and I don't want to have to carefully pick my way down the path whenever I step outside.

So, if you are one of those people who do clear up after your dog, I'd like to say thanks, you're welcome here anytime, BUT, if you are an owner who refuses to live up to your responsibility, then please, go and bury yourself in your pets output.

Well, I survived day one...

Evening all. Ah, the relief, peace at last. HP has just gone to bed, we've had a great day, it's not often that I can take the time off work to spend any quality time with him, so I've really enjoyed it.

Well most of it - as I feared in my last post, he was more than generous with the noxious substances he outputs, with not one, not two, not three, but four unpleasant parcels! - I reckon my other half fed him laxatives yesterday to make sure I learn my lesson!

Based on my day, here's a quick list of things I must teach HP asap...

1) Patience - How do you reason with a 2 and half year old?
2) It's Daddy's XBox...
3) Not everyone in life will bribe him with chocolate milkshakes like I do
4) How to use the potty (the sooner the better, but I'm reliably informed that boys are lazy and it might take some time...)
5)How to put his stuff away - you should see the state of the house. - Mind you, his mum would say thats a trait he's inherited from me!

What I've learnt today...
1) HP is actually a little person, with a real sense of humour.
2) That being a mum is really hard work, I'm shattered after one day!
3) That I can look after him if I have to.
4) I've missed too much of him through working too much. I've got to try to do something about that.

Anyway enough of the proud dad rubbish, I've got an hour or so 'til Angie get's home, so a chance for a nice cold beer and some undisturbed blogging...

The long weekend ahead...

Well, this may be my last post until after the weekend. She who must be obeyed is going to The Yoga Show with her yoga mates this weekend, which means I'll have HP all to myself.
"Sounds good" I hear you say, and of course, as a proud dad I'm forced to agree.

But...I really, really hope that he "does his business" either
(a) BEFORE his Mum leaves...

or

(b) AFTER his Mum returns from her days out.

If not - well, lets put it this way, it won't be pretty - although I suppose I could just leave him sat, in a brown haze of stench until she gets back.

Best Place for Him!

Meet HP , my son. He's 3 in March, and already he's become a right little loon - not surprising when you consider his parents (Well, his mother at least!)

His latest pastime is : To open a cupboard, eat everything in it (including the packaging), then climb in and close the door behind himself. Best place for him if you ask me! I mean - it's not as if we don't feed him according to the instructions in the manual.

To be honest, anything that makes as much noise, causes as much mess, and most importantly smells that bad needs to be shut in a cupboard, preferably in someone elses house.

In the 10 minutes running up to this photo being taken, he has eaten 6 Fray Bentos pies, 3 tins of Spam, half a jar of gherkins from Christmas 1997 and to top it off, a packet of butterscotch Angel Delight, made not with milk, but drool. Nice.

What is it with Royal Mail?

The Royal Mail. What can I say? It used to be that the postman would arrive, bright eyed and bushy tailed, sometime around breakfast, BEFORE you went to work. These days, they turn up when they feel like it, if they can be bothered.

Here in sunny Dartford, it's not unusual for the lazy git to not turn up until 2pm! - Now, I might be unfair blaming the postman, but he is the public face of Royal Mail, surely he should represent them, and to be honest, if I get a card through the door once more, explaining that I have to collect a parcel as I was not in at time of delivery, I will scream. Surely, if the post arrived at the traditional, breakfast time, I WOULD be here to accept delivery.

Perhaps I should invoice Royal Mail for my time wasted eveytime I have to traipse off to collect a parcel that they have tried to deliver at some ridiculous time of the day.

It's also worth questioning why he did not think of leaving the parcel with a neighbour, would that be too much like using his iniative, or is it that in todays world, most of us hate our neighbours, and would rather NOT have to knock on their doors to pick up a parcel? Come to think of it, I would rather collect from the depot than speak to the freaks living either side of me.

Now, we all know that the Post Office say's it is suffering these days, with more competition and the immidiacy of email, but surely, if they bucked up their ideas, and maximised on their potential, they should be able to turn things around, don't tell me EBAY and the like have'nt drummed up a mini delivery empire waiting to be picked up by a delivery/shipping company with a little savvy - there are so many partnership ventures now (BT Yahoo broadband anyone?) that surely the Post Office could join forces with Ebay or similar to provide a reliable service, that benefits all concerned.

In the meantime, it looks like a walk to the depot to collect parcels, will at least provide me with some much needed exercise.

The Red Mist

Please, let this be a rare occurrence. The photo to the left is NOT a reconstruction. This is what happens when a toddler is overcome by the red mist.

I'm the first to say how fortunate we are to have an ankle biter as easy going as the one we've got, sometimes, we witness the spawn of Satan that seems to hide inside every "little darling".

My mother once said to me, that she could hardly wait for me to be a father, so she could witness me going through what I put her through when I was a kid. (Apparently, I was a nightmare!) I think that must be the only thing that kept her sane...

Oh how she cackles when I tell her about how her "beautiful", "perfect" etc etc grandson has made our ears bleed, eaten furniture and ripped doors from their frames.

With any luck I will retain my sanity to a similar degree as my mother did (well I say that but she now has conversations with her dog - in public!).

Whatever, it's all good - That's what I keep telling myself anyway.