Unfair and badly lacking in Karma...

I often think that life is rather unfair; most of the time I'm happy enough to accept that. If we deserved all we got, or got all we deserved, the world would be much worse. That makes more sense than it seems to at first reading, if you think about it.

Anyway, I got thinking about that simply because outside about an hour and a half ago, there was a fight in the High Road, after the Bull and Butcher kicked out the last of the chavs at well past closing time. Before the police arrived, I was watching them from my bedroom window, pondering on the fact that drunken chavs are free, with only relatively minor consequences which depend upon when and where they decide to kick off their drunken brawls, to make a racket, disturb the peace, fight, throw up and generally annoy people. Had they contained themselves until they got onto a back street somewhere, the chances are that the police wouldn't have found them.

So, they get to do this on a fairly regular schedule, but I am prevented by someone's idea of civil propriety from sitting quietly in my room with a high-powered sniper rifle and culling the herd to reduce the nuisance.

Pah. The modern world, eh?

Anyway, on a different tack, I have finally worked out how to get the photos from my phone to the PC, so for all of those of you who didn't believe my post those many months ago, here is the photographic evidence:




Buddha in a Gasmask

A hearty congratulatory pat on the back to the first person who can identify the CD case he's sitting on... (It's not hard to work it out, in my opinion, but I guess it depends upon your age and musical tastes).

Thank you and good night.

Unfair and badly lacking in Karma...

I often think that life is rather unfair; most of the time I'm happy enough to accept that. If we deserved all we got, or got all we deserved, the world would be much worse. That makes more sense than it seems to at first reading, if you think about it.

Anyway, I got thinking about that simply because outside about an hour and a half ago, there was a fight in the High Road, after the Bull and Butcher kicked out the last of the chavs at well past closing time. Before the police arrived, I was watching them from my bedroom window, pondering on the fact that drunken chavs are free, with only relatively minor consequences which depend upon when and where they decide to kick off their drunken brawls, to make a racket, disturb the peace, fight, throw up and generally annoy people. Had they contained themselves until they got onto a back street somewhere, the chances are that the police wouldn't have found them.

So, they get to do this on a fairly regular schedule, but I am prevented by someone's idea of civil propriety from sitting quietly in my room with a high-powered sniper rifle and culling the herd to reduce the nuisance.

Pah. The modern world, eh?

Anyway, on a different tack, I have finally worked out how to get the photos from my phone to the PC, so for all of those of you who didn't believe my post those many months ago, here is the photographic evidence:




Buddha in a Gasmask

A hearty congratulatory pat on the back to the first person who can identify the CD case he's sitting on... (It's not hard to work it out, in my opinion, but I guess it depends upon your age and musical tastes).

Thank you and good night.

Mind Map meme thing

I have no idea what it means, but pax_draconis seems to be hogging centre stage. Make of that what you will...



( Click here to see! )

Mind Map meme thing

I have no idea what it means, but pax_draconis seems to be hogging centre stage. Make of that what you will...



( Click here to see! )

The loneliness of the long distance brain cell.

Having begun badly today has begun to offer up new and interesting ways of demonstrating the whimsy of the universe. Or perhaps more accurately, opportunities to demonstrate the low-level of brain activity to be found in the average maintenance troll.

An hour ago, as is my wont, I wandered down to the smoking room for a restorative ciggy, and attempt to finish off the difficult-rated sudoku¹ in The Times². Getting to the smoking room door, I find that the lock is broken, a chair is jammed against the inside of the door handle in the anteroom, and the movement-sensitive lights are off. The room is dark. (The room is right down on the ground floor, and faces north. There was just a tiny amount of natural light visible through the window in the second door from the anteroom into the smoking room itself, no sign of artificial light at all). Anyone in the room is therefore keeping particularly still. No amount of hammering at the door elicited any response from inside.

How would you interpret this?

Honestly?

Well the few of us out in the corridor interpreted it as someone potentially trying to do themselves harm in a comparatively quiet part of the building. Worse, it could be some nutter up to something nastier – this is a government building in central London, after all. So we called security down to investigate.

While security were in the process of reducing the door to matchwood, a baffled workman emerged from inside asking what the racket was all about. He had his i-Pod earphones on, and had only just noticed that something was happening.

This mental giant had gone into the smoking room to maintain the air filters, and had turned all the electrics in the room off. Hence no lights. He was lying under one of the filters, using a torch to illuminate the wiring he was checking, hence no obvious movement for the light sensors even had they been on. Earphones meant no reaction to the increasingly frantic hammering on the door, hence no response.

The chair holding the door shut? The lock was broken and he didn’t want anyone disturbing him while he was working since a lot of ceiling panelling needed to be removed.

Fair enough.

But as security pointed out, next time a Building Services Maintenance: Do Not Enter sign on the door will have the same effect, and no one will think that there’s a murder-suicide pact in progress.

He didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

Now we need a new door for the smoking room.



¹Or crazy number puzzle as it is known in Japan.
²Yes, there is an element of hypocrisy here after my previous diatribe against the damned things, but they are addictive.

The loneliness of the long distance brain cell.

Having begun badly today has begun to offer up new and interesting ways of demonstrating the whimsy of the universe. Or perhaps more accurately, opportunities to demonstrate the low-level of brain activity to be found in the average maintenance troll.

An hour ago, as is my wont, I wandered down to the smoking room for a restorative ciggy, and attempt to finish off the difficult-rated sudoku¹ in The Times². Getting to the smoking room door, I find that the lock is broken, a chair is jammed against the inside of the door handle in the anteroom, and the movement-sensitive lights are off. The room is dark. (The room is right down on the ground floor, and faces north. There was just a tiny amount of natural light visible through the window in the second door from the anteroom into the smoking room itself, no sign of artificial light at all). Anyone in the room is therefore keeping particularly still. No amount of hammering at the door elicited any response from inside.

How would you interpret this?

Honestly?

Well the few of us out in the corridor interpreted it as someone potentially trying to do themselves harm in a comparatively quiet part of the building. Worse, it could be some nutter up to something nastier – this is a government building in central London, after all. So we called security down to investigate.

While security were in the process of reducing the door to matchwood, a baffled workman emerged from inside asking what the racket was all about. He had his i-Pod earphones on, and had only just noticed that something was happening.

This mental giant had gone into the smoking room to maintain the air filters, and had turned all the electrics in the room off. Hence no lights. He was lying under one of the filters, using a torch to illuminate the wiring he was checking, hence no obvious movement for the light sensors even had they been on. Earphones meant no reaction to the increasingly frantic hammering on the door, hence no response.

The chair holding the door shut? The lock was broken and he didn’t want anyone disturbing him while he was working since a lot of ceiling panelling needed to be removed.

Fair enough.

But as security pointed out, next time a Building Services Maintenance: Do Not Enter sign on the door will have the same effect, and no one will think that there’s a murder-suicide pact in progress.

He didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

Now we need a new door for the smoking room.



¹Or crazy number puzzle as it is known in Japan.
²Yes, there is an element of hypocrisy here after my previous diatribe against the damned things, but they are addictive.