From Cyprus with Love.

While out driving a hot summer's day on the mediterranean island (and country) of Cyprus I started craving something cool and quenching. As one is inclined to do. What better than a carbonated beverage of some sort and the tastiest of tasty ice creams? Nothing, that's what, my good fellow - Is my answer to that self-posed question.

Ponder this scenario. We pull over at a camping ground/cafeteria/grilling-zone/national park information area. Bounding out of the cars, me and my girlfriend and her family, immediately zoom in on a small kiosk offering such delights as mentioned above. I don't trust anyone who does not enjoy a delicious piece of iced cream. And I was pleasantly surprised to find that my in-laws, through my beloved common law wife, were also hungering for such a snack. This could be the start of a beautiful relationship, by proxy.

Jump to approximately three minutes later when everyone had purchased their guilty pleasures of choice and moved on to the picnic-tables to commence with the consumption. The children were snacking, the adults were guffawing, the flies buzzing and I was in for an unpleasant surprise. I had picked what seemed like the ultimate combination. A Kit Kat ice cream. As I devour both Kit Kat and ice cream with great relish the thought of these two in sequence almost blew my fucking mind. I shit you not! Or maybe just a little. Unwrapping the paper quicker than a speed freak on uppers during an early Christmas morning I soon gazed upon it. The biggest lie in marketing since X-ray spectacles.

This my friends is not a "Kit Kat Ice Cream". What it is however is a God damn Kit Kat mushed into some vanilla ice cream. Now I may have been the only one thinking there would be some amalgamation between the two. It would seem logical. To put it another way: Why in holy hell didn't they mix them? Two things residing beside one another does not constitute a fusion of deliciously huge proportions. Like I said, this is just a single piece of Kit Kat jammed into an otherwise mediocre ice cream. Shitty and disappointing, would be my conclusion. Thanks for ruining my day Nestlé, you confectionary whores.

A much smarter ape.

Humans kick ass. That is the one universal truth that we can all learn from our short little moment on this earth. The great lesson is not the beauty of nature, the delusions of God's greatness or any other man-made construct, other than this. We, as a species, need not fear any other animal. Given enough time we will figure out its weakness, kill and eat it. Or turn its carcass into some amusing product to help make our lives more interesting. Humans beings are dumb, selfish, evil, gluttonous, self-involved, murderous, vile and utterly irrational most of the time. I take no issue with this view  of the human race. What needs to be considered however is that all of these negative attributes we possess are concepts we have created. Any animal, even the little fuzzy ones we find cute, are much worse than the most horrid person. By our standards. Show me a walrus that can play the violin or a chipmunk that has deeply theorized on its own existence and I might change my tune. Until then I'll enjoy being a dirty stinking ape, of the more clever variety. We are the crowning achievement of creation. As of yet.

Pretend Heroism.

Am I the only one getting seriously tired of being told that athletes are heroes? Why am I constantly being reminded through the media and other people that I should take pause and admire these heroic feats of make believe? Wow! He jumped over a rather high horizontal stick using nothing but his own two legs and a really silly technique? Did he do it while wearing a colourful but impractical hat? Nothing's athletically awe inspiring unless ridiculous headgear is a involved. If you ask me. What are our values?  Actual heroes put themselves at great personal risk in order to help others. A true hero might even face certain death to save another life. They do not retire at 40 and putter around strip clubs in Monaco, doing coke off of some skank's snatch. Live the dream man, but don't expect me to worship you for it. Being the best at something non-sensical can be interesting, I'll give you that. For instance - having the ability to masturbate over twenty times during the little drive to work is as impressive as it is daring. That type of stamina and speed and reckless disregard for traffic safety is outstanding. A hero however, you are not. Just sticky and exhausted. Chasing a leather sphere around a field is as abhorrent a behaviour as many others frowned upon by society. (see example mentioned above) Add to this: Shimmying into a little outfit and squat-thrusting for hours in the name of fun and the entire thing seems borderline psychotic. Cheering them on feels almost cruel in such a context. I understand why the media are farting out praises for these plastic heroes. There's a profit to be made and airtime to be filled. Why in the world other people, many of whom could not care less about actual physical exercise, go on and on about sports I shall never understand. Now, the joy of watching a sports injury unfold I can comprehend. Thank God these sportsmen aren't discouraged by the fact that the laws of physics are working against them. Where would franchises like "World's Worst Whatever" be? Out of business, that's where. And in this economy we need all the profitable ventures we can get. So gimme a jingle when the next NASCAR driver turns his torso into a modern work of art using nothing but the momentum of the vehicle. True heroes sacrifice their lives, after all. For my entertainment.

Illusions of Purpose and Choice.

I have no idea where I'm headed in life. I have ambitions, sure, but very little skill to make these feverish visions of mine into reality. I'm not a demonic director, driven by my delusions of grandeur. Nor am I motivated by the simple joys of dominating other people. Letting them cower in submission as I madly stab at the canvas, laughing hoarsely and flinging my monocle at my assistant. All the while the critics will sing my praises. Women will want to sleep with me. Men will want to be me and some men will want to be in me. Monkeys will gaze at my grandness and wish they too had been blessed with a higher rank on the evolutionary scale. Not that I've given this much thought or anything. My point being, no one seems to have any damn idea what they are doing anymore. Didn't people used to have a higher purpose in life? Some sort of end goal they were striding towards? A glistening, bright future they pinned their hopes on? It just seems like everyone is adrift on the open sea these days. No point of reference, no horizon, no hope in their heart. Just being tossed about by wave after wave. Mercilessly at the whim of forces they cannot quite grasp. The forces of pointlessness. You don't have any more freedoms today than your great grandparents had. In fact, you might very well have fewer. That you can choose from fifteen different types of fussili pasta, twenty-three variations of toothpaste and four sorts of oranges (I counted all of these at one of those huge mega-stores) means absolutely nothing. These alternatives are all superficial, they only give you the illusion of choice. What real difference would it have made in my life if I had bought apples instead of oranges? Absolutely fuck all. You can in fact compare apples to oranges, believe it or not. It's just fruit. Individualism clearly has merits. The idea of self-determination without compulsion is one any non-cretin must cherish. It is not without its flaws though. Most people are ignorant. A very large portion of them are also dumb. Couple this with democratic governance and you'll see that some rather interesting patterns will begin to emerge. If everyone agrees to live in a community but then only look out for their own self-interests things will go awry. Of course, this is all very entertaining to a sick individual such as myself but it's not very productive. Pretty soon you'll have a government whose only job is to balance the fucking budget and keep the shit at shoe level. And people will think that's just awesome! 'Cause things are going so well now that we are finally free. Free from commitment of any kind, that is. To be free is not just to be without hardship. We have come to expect much from society, while contributing little. We carry a sense of entitlement so grossly out of proportion to our actual importance it's staggering. If you died tomorrow what would the world be like? Sure your mother would cry a little (maybe not as much as you'd expect or like) and that's pretty much it. She has to get on with her life, get on with the shopping. Forwards is the direction that indicates purpose. Don't ya know? This entire movement towards hyper-individualism has been touted as the solution to all of our personal problems. If you only concentrate on yourself and look no further than your own feelings everything will be alright. Well, people have been doing this for over 50 years now. Are we any more happy today? Hardly. Everyone seems confused and bewildered. We have become isolated, lonely and afraid. No matter how secure and centered we are. No matter how stoic in our outlook. No matter how free we are. We all want to belong, to something. I do not really believe in destiny. It always seems to lead you down the same path towards some sort of spooky space-god. Wanting to believe that a semi-benevolent dictator is behind the scenes of this macabre little puppet show we call life is a frightening thought. But if the only destiny we have is that which we make for ourselves, what exactly is it that we have made? Pointless consumerism, selfishness as a sacrament, meaningless sexual encounters and reality-TV? If that's all we can come up with I say: Bring back manifest destiny and tell it to stay away from the indigenous people if possible. Was anything better "in the good old days"? Almost definietly not. Maybe...