Oh, come on, it totally does

Well, what can I say, the odds of me ending up trapped in a mine in chile for the entire summer were longer than your average dole que, yet, there I was, with only a two-year old copy of Time Out (wordsearch partially completed) for company. What I do know is there’s thirty-three shameless media whores who could learn a thing or two about survival from yours truly. I mean, I didn’t wait for some overpriced suppository to come & save me. No, I had to tunnel my way out solely by the use of my teeth, as the part of my brain that controls motor function shut itself down in protest at my insistence on finding out the secret of Martine McCutcheon’s new beach bod.

Of course, you won’t have heard about all this on the news, I’m kind of cool and low-key like that, but after being nursed back to health by a retired Belgian diplomat and a fourteen year old Phillipino boy, whom I can only assume was his adopted son, I was on the next sail barge back to good old Éire. And I must say, my god, what have you people done with the place?

I must admit, there is certainly a better sense of space around here, as the most subtle invasion in history continues unabated. As you may already be aware, the seconds it takes to check easily obtainable statistics on emigration are seconds I simply cannot spare, so instead, I’m going with a Statistic I overheard in the pub. Apparently, according to a guy with a beard, there have been over 40,000 visa applications in the past however many months he said, visa applications to Australia, I assume. Anyway, niggly details aside, that’s quite a lot, and as there does actually seem to be jobs going out there right now it makes perfect sense.

To be honest I don’t know why anyone would travel to such a god-forsaken place to find a job, I mean, I’m sitting on a white horse eating champagne truffles as I type this, so the whole thing is sort of outside of my comprehension. However, even if I wasn’t an independently wealthy man about town I’d like to think I’d go for the easier smarter option as far as the unemployment crisis is concerned, that being, “hang around until enough people leave and take your pick”.

I’ll level with you, I’m not a mathematician, and, contrary to what my business cards say, I’m not a “science doctor” either. So I’m not sure exactly how many people would have to leave before someone like yourself could walk into something with a company car, 60k a year and a pretty competitive pension plan, but at a guess I’d say another two thousand should do it, give or take.

If you happen to be in the unfortunate and, these days, all too familiar position of facing emigration or the unemployment line, the first piece of advice I would give you is for the love of God, don’t listen to a word I say, the second would be, like, why not Canada? Nicer people, a more earth-like climate, and not to mention almost no things smaller than you that absolutely, positively want nothing more than to kill you in the most excruciating manner possible. Think about it, it makes perfect sense, or at least as much sense as the 500 words that preceded  it.

Dedicated to people who aren’t here, but really, really should be.

A is for Awesome

Totally!

Ok, let’s not beat around the bush here, summer is freaking great. Assuming you don’t have a career or any real responsibilities, and really, why the hell would you do that to yourself? It’s simply the time of year that out-awesomes all others. And if you can get away with not working for the whole thing and still enjoy everything else on this list, well then, you pretty much win at summer.

B is for Barbecues

We are all going to die

Something about an increase in temperature and a little sunshine makes normally well-adjusted people want to give their friends food poisoning. We’re not really sure what causes this phenomenon, but pre-hospital visit at least, barbecues are pretty sweet. It basically comes down to trying to burn the food just enough to stave off salmonella, eating about 10% of the food you cook, then getting hammered. Come to think of it, maybe the food has nothing to do with people getting sick after barbecues, but rather the whole “Well, I’m going to be there all day, and all night, so, better get two crates for myself. And a naggin, yeah…” thing. But what do I know, I’m not a doctor.

C is for Cider

hmmmm, I guess it is time to cool down...

Say what you will about it, but the people at Bulmers have somehow managed to brand themselves as the summer drink. There’s something about a sunny beer garden that makes even non-cider drinkers like myself think “You know what, a pint bottle would be really nice right now”. It has to come down to those ads, they just make Bulmers seem much, much cooler than it really is, bottom line is I think we can all just thank our lucky stars that the marketing department at Beamish isn’t as good as theirs.

D is for Daytime T.V.

"I keep tellin' these guys I'm not a real doctor, but they still keep payin' me"

Sometimes it’s easy to fall into a weird pattern during summer, sleeping most of the day, then waking up in time for whatever shenanigans are afoot that evening. To fall into this trap is a mistake, I mean, there’s a double bill of bewitched on, and I’m gonna miss out on it? Not a chance, my friend. I can understand why someone would want to skip the whole daytime schedule, I mean, nobody, man, woman or child should ever put themselves in a position where they might be exposed to an episode of “Loose Women”.

E is for Exams

There are worse things than failing an exam, y'know

Some of us are doing them, some of us are still trying to put those harrowing weeks behind us. Either way they’re best forgotten about until the results come up, and even then, best forgotten about until it’s time for repeats, I mean, we’ve got important stuff to do here.

F is for Free house season

Careful now...

The great thing about not going on family holidays, aside from the inevitable arguments and the seemingly endless stream of monotonous games of pool in the hotel lobby, is that most wonderful gift, the free house. Depending on how socially adept you are, a person could conceivably go an entire summer without sleeping in their own bed, or as is usually the case, any bed at all. There’s more than a little skill involved in successfully negotiating free house season, usual concerns are making sure you get somewhere good to sleep, and making it to the offy before ten every day. In fairness though, if that’s all you’ve got to worry about on any given day, you’re doing alright.

G is for Girls

Pictured above: Girls

without trying to sound misogynistic, there is something about summer that causes the female population to increase, in a good way. As soon as June hits, as if by magic, the streets, beaches, pubs and clubs are suddenly packed with women never seen before, which, I think we can all agree, is an improvement. This place has been a total wiener fest for the past nine months, and whatever your preference may be, it is a scientific fact that girls are better looking than guys, trust me, I do science all the time.

H is for Heat wave

Where's Wally

Ok, to be fair, this is unlikely, I mean, the last time Ireland had a proper heat wave was fifteen years ago. Given this information, a pessimist would say we’re never going to see another one, while an optimist would say we’re totally due. I’m an optimist, and looking at the kind of thing we’re getting lately, dare I say we’re looking at a proper, sunny, hot summer? Yeah, sure, why not.

I is for Ice-cream

"Em, I believe I asked for a flake too?"

Everyone’s got a favourite ice-cream. Even those of us who haven’t exactly got a sweet tooth know what we’re going for when we get to the freezer. Thinking about it now reminds me what a shame it was that they ruined Loop the Loops, I mean, what is that yellow bit all about now? Is this dust? Am I eating dust? What flavour is this? Is this a flavour? Whatever dude, at least the brunches are still cool. And yeah, I know, fucking brunches.

J is for J-1

America has a street called Telegraph Avenue, so there

If you’re on home soil as you read this, try to push the thought of that guy from college who left on the J-1 a few weeks back out of your mind. Don’t be jealous, I mean, do you have any idea of the gun crime statistics in the U.S? He’s probably in hospital right now. Well, probably not. It’s far more likely that he’s drinking a 40 at some frat party having just returned from some exciting activity or other, having the time of his life. I’ll wait here while you go look up flights for next summer, go on, it’s fine…

K is for Karaoke

Seriously, I could've sworn you really were Beoncé just there

This one is intrinsically linked to free house season, where an extended period of in-house fun inevitably leads to some pretty serious singstar action. As a general rule it is the person that says there was “no fucking way” they’ll sing a song who ends up hogging the mic, lost in some hazy memory of a dream to share their unique voice with the world. Sadly, much like hypodermic needles, some things should not be shared with anyone.

L is for Loooong days

Risky business

Besides the fact that the exact same thing happens every year, it’s always a pleasant surprise to realise you’re outside at 10:30pm and it’s still bright outside. And when it does get dark the sun is right back up there at 5 in the morning, nature sure is amazing, aint it? The only downside to this is it makes the milk-run all but impossible, and let’s face it, in the middle of free house season, that’s milk you need to steal.

M is for Music Festivals

Best weekend EVER.

Electric Picnic or Oxegen? That seems to be the big question. Unless you’re thinking of going to castlepalooza, meaning you’re a huge Mercury Rev fan, in which case I have nothing to say to you. I don’t even know what a Mercury Rev is, sounds like a budget Korean hatchback. Either way, the fact is whichever event you choose, if you’re not camping, it doesn’t count.

N is for New Stuff

Change the record

You’ve spent the last few months telling stories about all that stuff that happened last summer, and frankly, everyone’s tired of hearing about how you were totally going to chat up those two Swedish girls, but didn’t because they probably didn’t speak english. Do some new stuff, because honestly, you’re kind of on thin ice around here, and we’re all a little tired of your attitude, mate.

O is for Overdoing it

Good night lad?

You may have noticed something of a party theme to this list, given that it’s highly likely that a summer along these lines will lead to one, or possibly many mornings where you’ll crawl out of bed, vowing never again to do any of the stuff you did the night before, I mean, honestly, where did that goose come from? Why was it wearing my pants? Anyway, these feelings are natural, and they’ll pass in around 24 hours, nothing to worry about.

P is for Procrastinating

Study? But, I've just bought this neat hammock...

Remember before summer started you had some great plan for what you’d do with your summer? Get the jump on next semester, get healthy, basically sort your life out? Yeah, well, forget about it. Basically you’re going to wake up at the beginning of September with a hangover and no idea how three months went by that quickly. Also, you might have shaved a few years off your life expectancy, depending on how much fun you had. But come on, that’s what summer is all about, bro. Is it cool if I call you bro?

Q is for Quality time

I hate you all so much it gives me energy

One of the annoying side-effects of having a life is that lots of other people have them too, which means most of the people you most want to hang out with have been taking care of business for the past 9 months, so finally getting to relax with a full crew is a welcome return to awesomeness. Obviously it’ll take about a week to remember why you were happy to see those people leave in the first place, but damn, before the honeymoon ends, it’s pretty nice.

R is for Road Trips

Wood panel station wagon: preferable, but not essential

There is going to be a stage when going to the same places every day to do the same stuff gets a little stale, that’s why god invented criminally lax driving tests, allowing even the most unfit young person to bring death and destruction to every corner of the country. There might be nothing better than loading up three carloads of people with no intention of getting a greater insight into Irish culture, or even learning the names of anywhere they decide to stop the fun-bus. The strength of road trips lies in the fact that they’re ridiculously cheap, a night in a decent hostel costs little more than a double vodka & Red Bull, leaving more money for, well, double vodkas & Red Bull.

S is for Scoring

Nurses: Cert for the shift

Hmmm, for some reason I typed scoring instead of shifting, maybe shifting is a little too colloquial. Anyway, if you’re single, summer is ideal, I mean, from a guys point of view, considering the influx of members of the opposite sex, as I mentioned earlier, chances are even you could find someone to look past your many, many personal flaws, and y’know, lash out the shift. Also there’s the fact that “It’s the summer” is a completely acceptable reason for almost anything, feel free to use that, ladies & gents. Dancefloor score still doesn’t count though, in case you were wondering.

T is for Tequila

I have

Remember those dark, damp days when you met friends for a few pints? Those days are over. A few pints may still be what you call it, but when you’re chasing each one with a shot of your choice, things usually go on a little longer, and looking your friends in the eye the next day might get a little harder, but come on, why not? No salt for me though, that’s just rough, dude.

U is for Using any excuse to get out of work

These people are NOT having fun

If you’re fortunate enough, or unfortunate enough to have a job this summer, chances are it’s not exactly a barrel of laughs. Invariably the barrel of laughs is elsewhere, and usually clashes directly with that job of yours. The trick is to swap & give away just enough shifts to keep that bank balance looking relatively healthy, while spending as little time as possible actually doing anything other than having a good time.

V is for Vacations

Pretty wild, right?

Even in these tough times, any shmuck with a part-time job can manage a week somewhere east of Berlin, or south of Cannes, and it’s usually totally worth it. Just as long as you don’t mind socializing exclusively with English people for the duration, also the fact that alcohol is cheaper than milk in these places may lead to some complications, the word “hemorrhage” springs to mind…

W is for Wimbledon

Come on Andy (Roddick)!

I am aware that quite a few people dislike tennis, but Wimbledon is different. If nothing else it’s basically as watchable as tennis ever gets. Last years competition was incredible, the only thing missing was an A-Rod win in the final. The great thing about it is enjoying the English press pin the hope of a nation on people like Andy Murray, only to see him fail time and time again. That might sound like sour grapes, and maybe it is, god, Andy Murray, what a dick.

X is for X-cuse me, but almost nothing begins with X

Hold on, I've got it!

I would say that X-boxes everywhere will be gathering dust this summer, but I know people who play video games, and that simply is not the case.

Y is for Yaya Toure

Birds, Bulmers and Barbecues, Yaya loves all of it

As suggested by the honourable Mr. Finn, Yaya Toure is a 27 year ould Ivorian footballer, who by all accounts seems to enjoy all things summery, good for you, Yaya.

Z is for Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Total cop-out? Me? Hardly...

I did 25 letters without mentioning the world cup, gotta love that vuvuzela though…

Sorry Steve, but that planet doesn't go there

I was watching this Stephen Hawking documentary last night, where it explicitly stated in the commercial that he believed time travel was possible, only to discover that he in fact did not believe it was possible. At all. Pretty disappointing, but to be honest, I was more freaked out about the way his voice kept changing to someone elses, as if the producers felt the audience would be incapable of listening to him personally describe what’s going on, although, I guess that digitized sound isn’t really his voice, so maybe it’s not such a big deal. Anyway, what was I talking about?

Ok, paradoxes, that’s where I was going with that. Apparently paradoxes are what makes time travel impossible, something to do with not being able to go back in time to change events because they’ve already occurred or something, to be honest I wasn’t really paying attention, that whole voice thing was really unnerving. So, a lot like, and not a lot like time travel paradoxes, the paradox that a person can’t be served alcohol if they’re already drunk is a bizarre one, but still, there it is. technically a publican can’t serve you once you’ve had enough lovely, lovely booze to get a buzz going, but as we all know, that’s like, totally not the case, ever.

Similarly, although it’s perfectly legal to walk into a pub or nightclub and get drunk, it is not strictly legal to be drunk in public, so perhaps the best option there would be to leap directly from the beer garden into a waiting taxi, which might sound cool in a Jason Bourne stag night kind of way, but it’s hardly practical. Well it seems that for some poor unfortunate lady from across the channel, the police do have the capacity to follow the letter of this oft-flaunted law when they need to. I say lady only because I’m such a fancy gentleman, but clearly this bird doesn’t qualify. The independent reports;

A woman who became the first person to be banned from drinking alcohol in a public place anywhere in England and Wales was back in court yesterday after police saw her sitting on a wall with a can of lager. Laura Hall (20) was arrested by officers in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, in the early hours of Sunday morning. At Redditch Magistrates’ Court she pleaded guilty to breaching the drinking banning order and admitted being drunk and disorderly in a public place. The ban, imposed last month, prohibited Hall from entering a pub, bar, club or off-licence for two years. The drinking banning order also bans Hall from buying alcohol in any public place across England and Wales. Stephen Harris, prosecuting, told the court Hall was “shouting and swearing in the street” when police saw her with a group of friends in Worcester Road, a designated alcohol-free zone, at 2.15am. He said a police officer warned her not to drink any alcohol but she shouted: “I want to go to the f****** offie (off licence) and get some beer.”

I’ve often defended the Irish Independent when people have called it a borderline tabloid, or simply a rag, but really, who are they trying to fool by translating the word “offie”? I’m pretty sure that even those south of the Liffey are acquainted with that little morsel of slang. Anyway, clearly this girl has some brass balls, either that or she’s an alcoholic. In fact I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. I mean, shouting about your desire to go buy some cans at the rozzers, while being banned from doing exactly that? While being drunk in public? Frankly I don’t see a B.A. in her future.

Of the two reasons this story caught my eye, the main one was that I would’ve assumed it was quite difficult to get banned from drinking in an entire country, and considering this girl was the first person in the UK to receive such a ban, whatever she did must have been pretty special. And, as it turns out, after a full eight minutes of furious googling I came up with exactly nothing. Not a sausage. So, I’m going to assume it was something so dreadful the news media could not repeat it for fear of copycat offenders. Seriously, use your imagination, go nuts. The other reason was that it is an uncommonly slow news day, GO JOURNALISM!

LAURA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

Just like Rocky 4

Oh, hello there. If you read the above title and thought ” hey, that’s how an asian person might pronounce the title of an ACDC song”, then dude, you are totally racist. Seriously, that is not cool. Anyway, So US President Barack Obama is in Prague today with the dual mission of renewing the now expired Strategic arms reduction treaty and “resetting” diplomatic relations with Russia. Now I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it sickens me too. Yet another day of slacking-off for mister “I’ve been in office for nearly 15 months and haven’t fixed the world yet”.

Apparently the abbreviation they us for the strategic arms reduction treaty is START, as opposed to SART, which is something that totally annoys me. I absolutely hate it when people pick out random letters purely to make their abbreviation sound more “snappy”. In the spirit of this I’ve decided to use my own, equally logical abstraction, so from here onwards the treaty will simply be referred to as ARSE.

In a shocking turn of events, it seems I commented on something which has hampered efforts to create a new ARSE over the past year, namely the United States’ on again, off again plans to locate a missile defence system right on Russia’s doorstep. Tonight we’re gonna posture like it’s 1989 has the details of that whole fiasco. I swear, sometimes it’s almost as if there’s an element of cohesion to what goes on around here. In any case, the Ruskies seem slightly more enamoured with Obama’s plans for fending off the Iranians, if and when they decide to start some “next level shit“, however they have still threatened to withdraw from the ARSE if American plans interfere with the Russian’s own nuclear deterrent. The Irish Times reports;

Before becoming president, Mr Obama was deeply sceptical about the need for missile defence, but it is a favoured project of more hawkish elements of his own administration and the Republicans whose support he seeks to ensure ARSE is smoothly ratified by the US Senate.

In his meeting with Mr Medvedev, Mr Obama is expected to reiterate that missile defence is not intended to threaten Russia, and that the new ARSE should not be seen as a conclusion but only a first step in reducing the deadly stockpiles of the two nuclear superpowers.

He will also seek to convince his Russian counterpart to support tougher UN sanctions on Iran over its nuclear ambitions. Moscow has significant clout in Iran, where it has built, but so far declined to launch, a new nuclear reactor. Mr Obama is expected to press Chinese president Hu Jintao on the same issue at next week’s nuclear security summit.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that next week Obama is hosting a 47-nation summit on nuclear prolifferation. Anyway, for now Barack really does seem to have his hands full, considering the US and Russia really haven’t been getting on lately. It’s not entirely surprising really, considering that little snaffu in Georgia a while ago, and the fact that in all likelihood President Medvedev is merely a puppet controlled by Vladimir Putin, who may very well be Lucifer himself.

Adding to this the suspicion that Russia has been quietly attempting to recreate “spheres of influence” within it’s satelite states in recent years, much like the Soviet Union. From what I gather it’s about oil and gas contracts, stuff like that. I say suspicion, but I might as well say wild speculation, you know what those Russians are like, they’re all the same, bunch of know-nothing, unreliable drunks.

Brown: This lady's not for turning

To be honest, this story isn’t actually much fun, but dammit, we’re in the news business, and if it’s newsy, you can rest assured we will news the shit out of it. Now, having just read that, if you’re wondering whether it’s more preposterous to use “news” as a verb or to pretend “newsy” is a real word, well then, you’re on the wrong bus, buddy.

Anyway, this sort of links back to what I was talking about in the unfortunately titled “Bitches off the starboard bow” a while ago. In that it’s about pirates and ransoms and that sort of thing. It seems the British government take a much stronger stance on the whole “negotiating with terrorists” concept. Much stronger than the oil companies, who’s stance, as I previously mentioned, is one more akin to a prostitute in an Amsterdam window.

Speaking of prostitutes, my all-time favourite name for them is “ladies of negotiable virtue”, just so you know. So, to the story. On October 23rd last two Britons were captured aboard their yacht while sailing for Tanzania. Despite efforts by an organisation set up to deal with these kinds of events to negotiate their release, the British Government has so far rejected any possibility of paying a ransom. This has caused some concern as there is the distinct possibility that the Somalian pirates responsible for the abduction of Paul and Rachel Chandler may simply become impatient and execute them both.

Chairman of the Merchant Maritime Warfare Centre Nick Davis said: “The door is open for them to be released. Somebody needs to pick up the gauntlet and run with it. We are the people who know what needs to be done, we can do it, we just need to be allowed to do it.”

Mr Davis said he arranged a £100,000 deal to start talks with the pirates in November, but he said the Foreign Office did not return his calls, the deal was not pushed forward and the chance to free the hostages was missed.

He said: “People are forgetting the key issue. Paul and Rachel have not got a clue what’s going on. They are sat there in a hell hole wondering why people aren’t helping them. For the amounts involved I don’t think it’s worth trying to bring anyone to justice. We just need to get Paul and Rachel home.”

I’ll admit I do agree with Mr Davis to an extent. I mean, it’s not like the British government is going to send in the SAS or whatever to rescue these two, and I do believe 100,000 pounds is pretty cheap as far as the lives of two people are concerned, so it would seem to make sense for them to allow the MMWC to go ahead and negotiate a release before it’s too late.

However, I can also understand the foreign office’s position, though in this case I can’t bring myself to agree with it. If the British government can to allow itself to be seen giving in to this brand of extortion, every Jack Sparrow with an AK-47 in the world is going to want to get paid. Essentially this would mean open season on anyone with a British passport. Now, I do realise this might not seem like an entirely bad thing to an Irish person who has recently watched The wind that shakes the barley, but seriously, that was a century ago, build a bridge, get over it.

Politics aside, there are two human beings at the centre of this story, and as the independent reports, they are currently being held in separate locations, with no clue as to when they might be released. I mean, god knows what they’re going through, it doesn’t bear thinking about. At the very least both must be dealing with the possibility that the other might have already been murdered. If you consider the simple fact that October 23rd 2009 was 102 days ago, it kind of boggles the mind that Downing St. should continue with their policy of political grandstanding.

The latest, from a spokesman for the Prime Minister reads;  “The Prime Minister’s view is that hostage taking is never justified and we would like to repeat the Government’s call that Paul and Rachel Chandler should be released immediately and unconditionally. We are doing everything we can to secure their release.” Ooh, really? hostage taking is never justified? Forgive me for lowering the tone, but seriously, no fucking shit Sherlock.

Still, this could be the first time in the history of organised government where a head of state has “called” for something to happen, and it actually has. I mean, surely that old chestnut is due for a win at this point. Maybe Gordon Brown should really take the gloves off and “condemn” the abduction of Paul and Rachel Chandler? Yeah, that should do it.

Yes, I also thought of how it kind of looks like a very small man holding an ipod touch

So, am I doing gadgets now? Well, I did see this thing about the new apple joint doing the rounds earlier, and not that I’d usually step on anyone elses toes, but fuck it, whassup now, coolmaterial? That’s right, you blueball me just because I live 3000 miles too far away, well now I’m stepping all over your shit.

The iphone is a phenomenal piece of kit, isn’t it? I mean, it does bloody everything, it looks good, and of course it’s ridiculously easy to use. I don’t have one though, because really, I don’t care that much. I’d totally buy one if I was a 15-year-old girl, as that particular section of society seem to view phone credit and musical ringtones as some kind of precious commodities, hence their desire to buy up every trace of them, should they become scarce in the future or whatever. For somebody like that, paying €60 per month for an iphone is small potatoes, however I can only speak for myself when I say that I spend nowhere near that much, also I have a laptop, so I’m pretty much sorted internet-wise.

Not that I was totally impervious to the sexy allure of the trendy hipster gadget du jour, I was all about getting one before Christmas, but then I kind of lost interest, still, I wouldn’t mind one, but I certainly don’t have to have one. I’ve had the same phone for nearly three years, and I couldn’t be happier with my touchscreen-less, music-less, internet-less little beaut. I haven’t bought a games console since the Nintendo Gamecube I picked up sometime in 2001, which I’ve long since given away.

I should also mention that I have in my lifetime owned three ipods, one of which lasted a whole four months before being left in the pub. Basically I think what I’ve ended up doing here is explain at length why I shouldn’t be writing about Apple’s new “ipad” tablet computer thing. Though I suppose it’s entirely possible that hearing from the perspective of someone who places almost no value on such things could turn out to be something pretty special, though it’s much more likely that I’ll end up losing track of what I was saying, forget the point I was trying to make and subsequently give up. If you’ve been here before, you know the drill by now.

Anyway, so Apple head honcho Steve Jobs unveiled the unfortunately named “ipad” in San Francisco yesterday, much to the delight of people who like that sort of thing. Essentially it’s what would, and evidently did happen when the ipod touch and the macbook made a baby. It looks like a giant ipod, has a 9.7″ touchscreen and some other boring stuff which I shall place into a block quote as I cannot be bothered to comment on any of it;

Weighs 1.5 lbs (which means absolutely nothing to anyone outside of the colonies)

Thickness a mere 1/2″

Models will feature between 16GB & 64GB of storage space

10 hours of battery life

9.7″ IPS display.

Apparently the operating system will resemble a touchscreen version of the macOS system, rather than the software featured on the iphone and ipod touch. The ipad also features a full keyboard function with the option of attaching an ordinary keyboard, y’know, in case you want to negate the entire reason for having an ipad in the first place. I must admit this thing looks pretty awesome, as does everything apple produces, but I promise I shall eat my hat if that thing stays alive for ten hours.

Anyone who’s ever been in a college library so packed they couldn’t gain access to a power point will know that the true battery life of the average laptop is around six minutes, not quite the two hours usually claimed by most manufacturers, so I’m a little skeptical about that claim. But then again, Jobs has described the ipad as a “magical and revolutionary device”, so who knows what kind of moonbeams and pixie dust he’s got powering these things.

Cool and all as the ipad is, the technology they’ve employed isn’t new. And while apple has no-doubt improved it greatly, the fact is that tablet computers have been around for about ten years now, and they’ve never caught on. Really, I don’t even know why I just typed that, because I’ll just look like an idiot when this thing sells like Avatar tickets when it arrives on Irish shores this summer.For those of you so-inclined, the basic model will go on sale for around €356, which, for an apple product is incredibly affordable, I might even pick one up myself. Probably not though.

Hey, did you notice that not once did I refer to female hygiene products during this post? I only mention it because, y’know, ipad? Come on, you know what I’m talking about, right? “ipad”? I mean, it’s a pretty obvious gag, I wasn’t going to mention it, but I just knew I’d totally kick myself if I didn’t and you read it somewhere else and thought; “hey, this guy’s pretty funny, not like that chessclubparty asshole, he’s such a dick, how could he not see that gag”. Well, I did see it. Honestly, I just want you to love me.

I figured any picture to do with this case would be too depressing, so hey, Rachel McAdams!

With the exception of those living under proverbial, or, in the case of earth worms and Islamic militant extremists, literal rocks, the trial of Eamonn Lillis for the Murder of his wife Celine Cawley is still the biggest story in Irish news. Perhaps that isn’t so shocking, I mean, Cawley was a Bond girl back in the ’80s, so it’s got some pop-culture currency. Equally unsurprising is the media circus surrounding the case, though all the main news outlets seem to be avoiding one key point. I’m assuming that since nobody reads this thing except my mother that it’s okay for me to categorically state that, to put it simply, this dude totally fucking did it.

I cannot believe how long this trial has gone on, it’s simply incredible. While I am aware that all evidence is purely circumstantial, the cuts and bruises sustained during what was obviously a violent argument, the falsified claim by Mr. Lillis of an intruder, and not forgetting his affair with Jean Treacy, well, it all kind of adds up.

Take the argument which led to Mrs. Cawley’s death on December 15th 2008, for example. Now, I’ve seen photographs of Eamonn Lillis, and as far as I can tell he is not the incredible hulk, and unless he is, his assertion that he “gently pushed her forehead” to stop her biting him doesn’t quite gel with Ms. Treacy’s testimony.

On the witness stand yesterday Ms. Treacy stated that Mr. Lillis had told her Ms. Cawley fell on the patio, causing her head to “bounce like a beach ball”. Clearly he doesn’t know his own strength. Also there is the small matter of the brick covered in blood, which the silver-tongued Lillis explained “must have been under her when she fell”, that is an impressive pants-load of shit right there if you ask me.

Added to the events of that day are the obvious facts that Lillis and Treacy were having an illicit affair at the time, one which was only halted by the death of Ms. Cawley, when the pair decided to cool things down for a while, which if nothing else makes it pretty much impossible for Lillis to try the “I loved my wife and could never hurt her” defence. You might be surprised to know that I myself am not a lawyer, but I’ve seen tons of cop shows in my time, and based on my knowledge this is a “slam dunk”, as Ice-T might say.

I’m not trying to make light of the situation, I mean, there’s a family involved here, but Jesus, if anything was ever an open and shut case this is it. This guy had motive, that being “the dart”, and while I doubt it was in any way premeditated, I believe he intended to harm his wife. Adding to this is the lie about an intruder, I mean, why would he feel the need to fabricate such a story if he felt he wasn’t responsible for Mrs. Cawley’s death? While Mr. Lillis may not have meant to kill her, he certainly went the right way about it. This is exactly why people say “you don’t hit the bitches”, because if you do shit like this happens and you get done for manslaughter.

Obviously I’m glossing over certain details, mainly because I’m a terrible reporter, but also because this story is absolutely everywhere. I just think the whole thing is a farce, that it could take so long to bring justice to someone at least guilty of accidentally causing the death of his wife. If this was Afghanistan he’d be spending is fourth day hanging upside down from a bridge right now. Did I just say I was in favour of the draconian and egregious methods of punishment employed by certain middle-eastern countries? Yes, I believe I did. I bet you liked how I linked that Islamic militant thing from the first sentence to the last sentence, I am so on fire right now!

With the hope of reducing it's level of aggression, researchers attempt to coax the funnel web into hitting a bong

At least one of the eleven people who actually saw the little loved 2002 horror comedy “Eight legged freaks” will be reminded of that instantly forgettable cinematic experience by this little kernel of not very important news from that prison colony in the south Pacific. As fans of David Arquette and Jailbait-ish Scarlett Johansson will already know, “Eight legged freaks” is a tale of a sleepy Arizona town whose population is suitably alarmed when an accident involving toxic waste (obviously) causes some spiders, which are pretty scary already, to become gigantic man-eating spiders, which is, clearly, scarier still.

What does all this have to do with Australia, I hear you ask? Well, for starters, I’d prefer it if you’d stop interrupting me. Apparently in Sydney they seem to be having a similar problem with spiders at the moment, similar as in there are lots of spiders around, and they can potentially kill people, but not eat them, and they’re not gigantic, so maybe the two aren’t so similar after all. I’ll let the independent fill you in on the details, because I obviously have no idea what I’m talking about;

Insect experts have warned that the city is being invaded by funnel-webs, considered one of the most aggressive and poisonous spiders. A reptile park north of Sydney where people can drop off captured specimens, and where they are milked of their venom to make an antidote, has received more than 40 males in recent weeks. Males are deadlier than females.

A lengthy dry period, followed by unseasonable downpours and high humidity, was blamed for the plague. “We’ve had a long spell of very warm weather combined with rain,” said Mary Rayner, general manager of the Australian Reptile Park. Unlike most spiders, which scuttle away when disturbed, funnel-webs may rear up and bare their fangs.

I’m just going to come out and say it, that is fucking terrifying. Personally I’m not especially scared of spiders, I don’t mind dealing with them, unless there’s one physically on me, but christ, a plague? A plague of killer spiders? forget it. Australia is really blowing it right now, first it turns out there’s no jobs left for paddy out there, meaning everyone who travelled over there expecting the streets to be paved with gold or whatever is back home again taking all the good seats in the pub, and now this?

In the last 100 years only 26 people have died from spider bites in Australia, 13 of which were caused by funnel webs. This didn’t sound like a huge number, so in the interest of providing perspective, and as this story is about Australia, and of course as I am an enormous asshole I looked up the number of dingo related deaths in the past 100 years. It’s two.  Anyway, since an antidote was developed in 1981 there have been no further fatalities. That’s an antidote to spider venom by the way, not dingos.

It seems as though as long as the weather suits the funnel webs the residents of Sydney are going to have a problem with these guys, not only are they super agressive and poisonous, they can also survive for hours underwater. So in the unlikely event that someone reads this, and that person happens to live in Sydney, seriously, if you spot one of these little fuckers in your pool, maybe leave it for another day or so, just to be safe, y’know?

Thinking about it now, this story has a lot more in common with slightly more popular 1990 horror comedy “Arachnophobia”, in that there’s all these spiders and they’re small but they can totally kill the shit out of people. I’ve always been a fan of Jeff Daniels, he doesn’t get enough credit. I mean, his work on “The squid and the whale” was some of the best he’s ever done, and what did he get? One stinking Golden Globe nomination. Never mind the spiders, that is a real modern tragedy.  Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked again. I guess if you take anything away from all this drivel, it’s that Australia is an awful, god-forsaken hell hole, horror comedies featuring spiders rarely live up to their potential, and the award show industry has no respect for true talent.

Nice one, Jeff

Do you know what "appealing to the lowest common denominator" means?

It is with great pleasure that, after months of self-imposed exile, I announce my return to professional blogging. I’d like to start by thanking the sponsors who have stood by me during what has been the most difficult period of my life. I take full responsibility for the transgressions which have led to my marital difficulties, and want to also thank my fans who have been so supportive of me despite my failings as a role model, husband and father. I am not perfect, and my only wish going forward is to make amends for the mistakes I have made, and I pray for forgiveness from those I have let down. Especially all those sluts I totally banged. Hey, if you thought I was above referencing a three month old story which has already been flogged to death by every news outlet in the civillised world, well, I guess I showed you.

If there’s one thing we love more around here than letting anything and everything get in the way of actually posting on ChessClubParty.com, it’s Pirates. And as I’ve said before, those dudes consistently come up with goods. I’m amazed at how many of these stories sound like the pitch for a new Martin Lawrence movie, it’s all crazy schemes and fish out of water wackiness with these guys.

Anyway, so these guys hijack an oil tanker, demand a ransom, and as there happened to be 100 million dollars worth of crude oil onboard, they got it. I kind of like how the oil companies don’t mess around with any of that “we don’t negotiate with terrorists” stuff, on the contrary, they just bend over and take it in the proverbial at the drop of a hat. Any hat.

Yeah, well this time things didn’t go as smoothly as our lovably murderous sea-dogs would have liked, as in the midst of collecting their 5.5 million dollar ransom another gang of pirates decided to attack them in an attempt to get a cut of the loot, leading to a shootout which left the original pirates no other choice but to, wait for it, call an anti-piracy force for help. Yeah. The Independent reports;

Helicopters from a warship ended the stand-off that could have caused a catastrophic explosion aboard the Maran Centaurus, which was carrying about two million barrels of highly flammable crude oil.

A Somali middleman, who helped negotiate the ship’s release, said a nearby warship had dispatched two helicopters to hover over the attackers’ two skiffs, frightening them off. The pirates onboard the ship then collected 5.5 million dollars, which was parachuted out from two planes, he said. The pirates have now left the ship.

He said the pirates attacking the ship wanted to force the original gunmen to give them a cut by using a show of force, rather than trying to storm the ship. Both sides knew of the potential for a catastrophic explosion and that is why the original pirates asked the EU for aid.

Well, that’s embarrassing. I’m impressed with the sheer ballsiness of the guys who decided to forget about the hassle of actually hijacking a ship themselves, and simply waited for someone else to do it before trying to horn in on their racket. The whole thing reminds me of that episode of The Simpsons where Homer takes Mr. Burns’ boat out to international waters, it would’ve been much more hilarious if the EU had reacted to the original gangs’ pleas for help in the same manner as the coast guard from that scene, y’know, “How about a tactical air strike?”.

On a serious note it is totally bizarrre that an Anti-piracy force actively helped some pirates do some piracy, as one would assume from their name that such carry on isn’t really in their job description, but whatever. I would’ve thought that the whole possibility of a “catastrophic explosion” would reduce both sides desire to shoot at each other, as I’m guessing 2 million barrels of crude oil would put quite a dent in most speedboats if it went up.

In any case, the little squalers got away with their ransom, which should come in handy while they lie low for a while, seriously, calling the EU on your pirate bro’s must be like snitching in prison, and as anyone who is acquainted with the rap music should know, snitches get stitches. To be honest I’ve been trying to wedge that phrase into an article for months, I’ve been worrying about my street cred lately, more than one person has told me I look like Ryan Tubridy in the last while, but I dunno man, maybe I’m trying too hard? I knew I should’ve called this thing bigtoughguyparty.com, oh well, welcome back.

Jesus - Over it?

Immortality is quite a scary concept, if you think about it. But you probably don’t think about it too often because unlike philosophers and stoned philosophy students you probably don’t have all that time on your hands to ponder the posibilities of life-eternal. Good for you if you don’t, because the only good philosophers ever were long dead before Jesus was walking around doing magic.

Essentially philosophy is all about “thinking about things for a while”, and that’s all well and good for sorting out the basics, which Plato, Socrates and all those dudes did a millenia and a half ago, so what modern philosophers lack in actual worth to anyone, they more than make up for it in pure windbaggery. If it seems odd that I started this by implying that I think philosophy students/philosophers are idiots, well, I don’t know what to tell you.

Anyway, that was weird. So, immortality, a subject which usually troubles the type of person I just mentioned, is aparrently a mere twenty years away. How? I hear you ask. Well, science, obviously. This scientist called Ray Kurzweil claims that immortality could become a reality in as little as twenty years through better medical practices and nanotechnology. In the report I read the phrase “Mr. Kurzweil claims” is used quite a lot, so you might want to take this with a grain of salt, frankly most of it is pretty crazy, considering we’re still dying from a flu virus, I find it hard to believe immortality is just around the corner, in any case, here’s a sample of what Mr. Kurzweil claims;

“Ultimately, nanobots will replace blood cells and do their work thousands of times more effectively.”

“Within 25 years we will be able to do an Olympic sprint for 15 minutes without taking a breath, or go scuba-diving for four hours without oxygen.”

“Heart-attack victims – who haven’t taken advantage of widely available bionic hearts – will calmly drive to the doctors for a minor operation as their blood bots keep them alive.”

“Nanotechnology will extend our mental capacities to such an extent we will be able to write books within minutes.”

“If we want to go into virtual-reality mode, nanobots will shut down brain signals and take us wherever we want to go. Virtual sex will become commonplace. And in our daily lives, hologram like figures will pop in our brain to explain what is happening.”

“So we can look forward to a world where humans become cyborgs, with artificial limbs and organs.”

…..right. I can’t think of a more eloquent phrase for that laundry list of Star Trek fantasies than “that sounds like totall bullshit”, so I’ll have to say I think that sounds like total bullshit. As I mentioned, Mr Kurzweil is described in the Irish Independent’s report as a scientist, though most of his claims seem to be based on the idea that other scientists are actually busy advancing medical science and nanobots, while he’s occupying his time revealing his thinly veiled sexual frustration to the press. Seriously, Ray, “virtual sex will become commonplace”? How about real sex? Y’know, because our bodies will be all advanced and even you’ll be able to lay pipe like a champ? Get it right dude, christ.

Anyway, aside from whether or not any of this turns out to be true, which I doubt, immortality is a worrying prospect for the world. We’re already running out of everything. Water, oil, even bananas are dying out. I’m serious about that, some article I read in this thing I can’t remember said that bananas aren’t going to be around in fifty years time, now that’s terrifying. Also, f everyone is able to live forever, surely we’ll run out of room after a while? Traffic is bad enough these days without someone’s great-great-great grandad blocking up half the N11 with his overturned hovercar.

Speaking of grandads, can you imagine how much Christmas would cost? Imagine having like, ten generations of family to get presents for every year, forget about it. Unless they invent nanobots to fix being totally fucking broke, it just won’t work. Not to mention the simple fact that immortality would eventually get pretty boring, so I’ll leave you with this food for thought, from this nifty bird, Susan Ertz, who apparently wrote books and things like that;

“Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.”

I’m pretty awesome the way I like to get deep sometimes.