What's cooler than being cool? Ice cold. Apparently.

I was told today that I am cool. By a tutor. And a class mate. And general consensus of silence, and inferred meaning when the room was told by the tutor that not one of us there was wearing clothes that weren't cool. Except him, he said.

I disagree on almost every count with everyone who said these things this morning. I never considered myself to be associated with the c-word. Most of the people in the seminar I would call any number of things before I arrived at cool.

We've hit a snag, you see,

Welcome to twenty eleven TV- already letting you down

It has recently come to my attention that people actually read this blog. This may, in part, be due to a tendency I have where, immediately upon completion of a post I'll sling a link up on Facebook. I know that the surprise I felt when I realised people read some of those posts, and possibly even, through reckless abandon, looked at some of the previous topics of inane dross, was due to the fact that despite attempts to attract attention to my ramblings all posts and links were entirely assumed to be ignored.

With that said, to those of you who have read Binned Pages and Ink Stains in spite of either knowing who wrote it, not knowing who wrote it (I'm not sure which would bring a more negative slight to your opinion of it) or my poor self-made public awareness campaign, a hundred percent appreciation if aimed in your direction.



Along with several apologies and the semi-sincere assertion that you don't have to read it just because you know me. Along with the voice in my head screaming that yes, in fact, you do. All that guff and bollocks aside, back on with the grumbly mentality, the prickly exterior, and on with the show- the latest baffle-induced experience of the world pulled apart and sprinkled liberally with barbed comments and anger. And we're back with the source of many rants, past and potential- the idiot box, and the quality of what is piped onto it.

Murder victim didn't clip toenails before dying- entire world notified

So. A young woman died, correction, was murdered. It's very sad, yes, and horrifying for the parents and boyfriend, not least because a) the first they knew about it was when she went missing just days before Christmas and b) the entire nation was alerted just about every half an hour by whatever news updating service they use, with incredible detail on the investigation and inane facts which, while helping the detectives, meant diddly squat to the audience.



Now, weeks after they discovered her body, the police are issuing the press with details of every single development still. Why? In the hope that some amateur detective will have a flash of Holmesian deduction, stare into the middle distance the way Hugh Laurie does when you're about four fifths of the way through an episode of House, and ring them up with the case solved?

New Year's Resolutions- what's that all about, and why bother?

So we're over a week into January. The brainless and the spineless have had enough time to set themselves unacheivable goals and then break most of their several A4 pages worth.

A-Ring-A-Ding-Ding- Happy New Year!

Sorry, too grumpy a point with which to start the glorified beginning of the New Year? Well, be that as it may, I still really don't understand why we congratulate each other and ourselves. Why celebrate the date at all?

Christmas, to me, is no longer about a baby being born on a dubiously researched date (anywhere from September to February, dontcha know) but about showing the people still on this mortal coil who I happen to not entirely dislike how much I don't entirely dislike them. New Year, surely, should be the same thing. Showing people you don't entirely wish to murder for being irritating how much you don't entirely wish to murder them (that is, showing your friends who they are) should be what we affix an abitrary date to. Get rid of this "happy new" bollocks. On average, you'll have at least 80 of these chunks of moments. That's over twice as many little white calcium blades you've got in your mouth. Just put that in your perspective pipe and have a puff.



The thing I really don't get about the New Year idea, the whole resolutions thing, is why in the modern world we keep this bloody tradition going.