Deja vote

Its been quite a while since I posted last. I’ve let down our loyal reader…mum? Are you still reading our blog? Anyway, here’s a bonus post to make up for it, and to ruin what was left of our posting schedule. The post is as follows;

I came to the UK recently and thought cleverly to myself: “I’ve escaped the boring as shit failure that is the impending Australian state and federal elections! Woohoo!” I will un-caps that sentence for your comfort. But I’m a little pissed, because as soon as I arrived here in “the mother cuntry” I found that they were having their own bloody election. It gets worse though, because it’s identical to Australia’s. Dun dun duuuun! Now, it will become, if it isn’t already, painfully obvious that my political views are simple, and childishly ignorant. So at best I hope this tantrum rant will have a little value as some sort of gauge of the average voter’s simple gut reaction.

Here in merry England they have a conservative government that failed to deliver anything worthwhile in their miserable term in office. This government is warning against voting for the, I think vaguely left, but mainly vague in expression, opposition party which has been so changeable that it might as well be run by a poker machine. This should already sound extremely familiar to anyone back home. The government’s done nothing except what we didn’t want them to do and the opposition might as well be a hive of backstabbing bees all wanting to be Queen and not caring what grade of honey they make in the meantime. But the similarities don’t end here.

Back home dear old Tone has been dilly-dallying with submarine tenderising or evaluating, whatever. The government here is doing the same, only with nuclear missiles, so a bit more serious than the “spaceships of the ocean” we’re so tired of worrying about. The opposition here are a rebranded rag tag group of green eyed dickheads and nobody, rightly, trusts them to replace the bombs. The government however, like back home, failed to deliver on their promises made last election, so no-one trusts them either.

Back home our successive governments weren’t happy with our platter of immigration control options, so instead, opted for variations of the toilet bowl and pig-trough methods of managing the poor humans who are unfortunate enough to be forced to come to Aus. Of course, here in the UK they have a similar situation; the conservatives are too weak to tell their racist constituents to hang themselves or stay off their side, so they umm and arr and wait for Germany to excuse whatever they do. The opposition do the same thing and the independents brandish pitch forks and say ugg! So there’s no hope of the country controlling its immigration barring some lucky reintroduction of the plague.

And the fucking posters everywhere are irritating as fuck. At least they don’t have Clive Palmer’s face on them.

-W

Those Tall Bar Stools

I’ll get straight to the point. Those stools are annoying and I don’t know why they exist.

stool 1

In what world does this look like a comfortable seat? Image taken from panik-design.com

You’re going to the bar and want to have a drink. You’re either tired from a long day and want to forget all about it, or you’re excited at the start of your night out. Why does a stool that you have to effectively climb onto need to be a part of this? Why can’t people just have normal chairs?

For one thing, some high-set round tables and their accompanying stools are places for trendy bar-restaurants to cram lower-class no-reservation scum into, serving a similar function to the economy vs first class check-in queues at airports or The Daily Telegraph vs Freaking Anything Else for reading. Annoyingly, it’s actually worked on me; after repeatedly having to eat at high tables, I grudgingly made a reservation at a fairly popular and trendy restaurant and got the coveted Actual Seats With Seatbacks. Goddamn restaurant impeding on my right to be unprepared.

But this doesn’t explain all of them. Some bars only have high-set stools and tables. Short of some weird masochistic appeal for hipsters, they can’t be punishing everyone, can they?

See, I think they only exist because people are used to seeing them from before. We’re stool 2conditioned to think that this is the norm, much like how we’re conditioned to think that Kyle & Jackie O are funny, or that they deserve their radio timeslot, or that they have a right to be on radio at all, or that they shouldn’t be brutalised and sent to a Texan prison for the rest of their lives, contemplating how we’re all dumber for having listened to them. We somehow think that when drinking at a bar, we need to be high off the ground, in perpetual fear of falling off to a bloody, King Kong-esque death. Well, I am.

We must challenge this acceptance. We need our shit-stirrers, our modern-day Susan Sontags, to change the way we think. These stools are the cancer of human history. We need to start boycotting these bars until they give us normal goddamn chairs! We need to act now.

I have to go now because I’m late to a meet-up at the pub.

-Z