Whats wrong with being sexy?

The sexist debate rages on unabated today as Andy Gray and Richard Keys spend their first Saturday sat at home talking about football probably in much the same way they would if they were in Sky's studio's, albeit in their shit stained pants with tears down their respective faces, trying to pretend that the last week was all a bad dream. It wasn't a dream, they have angered nation and there are millions of women who would be happy to see them burnt at the stake.



"WHOOOOOOOOOOOAHHHH THIS SEXISTS ON FIRE!"

Keys and Gray both complained about dark forces at work, as youtube footage of off camera moments were leaked into the public domain. Police sketches have been released of the suspected leaker.



Dark Forces indeed.

Sticking with the loose reference to the Kings of Leon, Caleb Followhill has upset the gay community with an attack on glee creator Ryan Murphy via twitter, Saying:

"Dear Ryan Murphy, let it go. See a therapist, get a manicure, buy a new bra. Zip your lip and focus on educating 7yr olds how to say fuck."

Murphy is thought to be getting comforted by friends.




This begs the question, if Keys and Gray are sacked from Sky for making off camera sexist comments then should Caleb Followhill be sacked by Sky from the Kings of Leon? No would probably be the answer because Sky don't pay the Kings of Leon.

However, it does beg another question, is it worse to be a homophobe or a sexist? The women would probably say its worse to be a sexist and the gays would probably say that its worse to be a homophobe. The jews would probably say that it is acceptable to be either as long as they are not muslims.



Here we go, veering onto anti-semetism.

Of course I am not only bringing up the concept of anti-semetism for a cheap laugh, but also to highlight the theoretical limit of a dislike or hatred based on prejudice, for example Zimbabwe is in the midst of a tabloid attack on the gay community.

http://www.zambianwatchdog.com/2011/01/28/osisa-salc-condemn-murder-of-uganda-gay-activist/

For if you want to research it for yourselves, I'm not going to spoon feed you. Not when there is non-news to talk about.


This is why prejudice in general is frowned upon with the exception of the prejudices against the Irish travellers who are all horrible without any exceptions apart from maybe David Essex. However the theoretical limit of irrational hatred is a long way off from off screen comments about women... here are a few on screen comments about men...



These women are paid to say this kind of nonsense. I for one am outraged!

I am accutely aware that we live in a patriarchal society and that a programme like Loose Women is a side effect of this but at the same time, why the fuck are they on telly during the day? They should be at home doing the washing and making themselves look pretty for their husbands who will soon be coming home from a hard day at work?

Equally, someone like Peter Scissons gets leaked making desparaiging remarks which could be construed as sexist about Anne Robinson and instead of being front page news for an entire week, he ends up on a top 50 celebrity whoops programme.



The Keys and Gray purile banter about women not knowing the offside rule and a bit of 'would you?' chat and suddenly people are getting sacked and handing in resignation letters. The tape where Gray asked a woman to pop a mic down his trousers was probably the most unsettling to watch of the numerous off screen moments. But she chose not to complain.



...And Neither would I! (LOLZ!)


So there you go, the theoritical limit of prejudice is the Genocide, but as neither Peter Scissons, Andy Gray or Richard Keys, the Kings of Leon or even Loose Women have ever killed scores of women, gays or jews, these stereotypes are hardly inflamatory and should not be bothering our front pages, not when the real crime is the fact that there is a prime time programme portraying Irish Travellers in a positive light on Channel 4 on wednesday at 9pm.



Worse than women, gays jews and sexists and homophobes all at the same time.

Manmachine201 makes (another) stand (part2)

...Just been punched in the face by my nextdoor neighbour. It turns out he's not from Eastern Europe at all. He's from Perivale in West London. He just sounds like he's foreign because he's got an even poorer grasp on the English languagethan most foreigners in this country.

I guess its true, in times like this is the middle classes that suffer.

Manmachine201 makes (another) stand (part1)

Russia today woke up amidst the aftermath of the terrorist attack on Moscow Airport which saw scores of innocent people travelling in and out of Russia killed. This, as the result of a suicide bomber detonated an explosive device causing chaos and devestation.



The aftermath.

Upon reading this in this mornings Daily Mail I was initially moved by the courage of the survivors and the quick thinking of the Russian authorities which prevented further deaths.

Of course this wave of emotion was washed away when I turned the page was washed away when I turned the page to find out that the country that I live in is in the midst of a terrorist attack of its own. "Get a grip Russia!" I almost said to myself "There are bigger problems in the world than terrorism."

It turns out that Eastern European immigrants are getting preferential treatment on housing lists at the expense of British people. This coupled with the fact that the government have scrapped the EMA makes my blood boil.

In fact, my next door neighbour is Eastern European. I'm going next door to give him a piece of my mind.

Manmachine201 is going to stop with the "guide to" titles in his blogs. Not relevant to this particular blog, but the guides are rarely relevant too

Any cooking disaster can be fixed with Garlic, Chilli and tumeric. If the Asians dealt with a lack of refrigeration either these days or in the past when they didn't have refrigeration, then it has to be good.



Having overcooked some chicken earlier today I was distraught as there was nothing else in the fridge for me to eat, no money for me to purchase any more food and no chance of any overcooked chicken somehow becoming uncooked, this is because a) my fridge was empty b) my pockets were empty and c) because cooking is a one way process, much like the passage of time. The only way time can go backwards is if you are watching back to the future or Pulp Fiction which has a notorious non linear narrative.



And an unnecesary dance competition set piece.

This is all by the by because I have talked about time travel and paradoxes enough. (Incidentally this recent obsession is fueled by my reading of Ovid's Metamorphoses where a series of possibly deliberate continuity errors occur after Phaethon begs his father Apollo to ride the chariot that carries the sun across the sky, as a mortal Phaethon fails to control the horses which burn the walls of heaven and scorch the earth. Possibly disturbing the space time continuum. ) (I read Ovid because I am clever.)



Phaethon, the age old lesson never to lend your teenage child your car.

So where was I? Ah, cooking! I added chilli tumeric and garlic to the overcooked chicken and it tasted alright, that was it really. Nothing very exciting, not sure why I started harping on about non linear narratives and the principals of the passage of time. It was nice and I ate it. Didn't drive a chariot into anything, didn't set fire to anything. (Although as I have already stated, I slightly overcooked the chicken.)



A few days earlier I bumped into a friend on my way home from work, "How are you? I asked." I have just said out loud while writing this but when I saw him I didn't say "I asked." at the end of it. "I'm struggling to be honest, my mum has been diagnosed with cancer and the doctors say its not treatable."

This is obviously an awkward situation, how do you steer yourself to safer waters than this situation? I remembered back to a few days ago when I overcooked the chicken, I took some Garlic, Tumeric and chilli out of my pocket covered my friend in it and ate him, not only avoiding a difficult conversation involving feelings and emotions that I just don't have, but sparing my friend the pain of watching his mother deteriorate from such a dreadful illness before his eyes.



Cannibal image, with some free squiggly writing at the bottom.

In fact Armin Meiwes, the convicted German cannibal who put up an internet advert asking for someone to have their penis consumed by him- im not talking metaphorically- is in prison for cannibalism and killing him and stuff, was unable to eat his victims shaft because it was too gristly. Not only would he probably have been able to eat the gristly penis of Bernd-Jurgen Brandes had he added Tumeric, garlic and Chilli, but it turns out that due to a legal loophole in the German justice system, the consumption of human flesh when eaten with tumeric, garlic and chilli is perfectly legal. Don't believe me? here is the law in German...

"wenn sie mit Kurkuma, Knoblauch und Chili gegessen der Konsum von Menschenfleisch ist völlig legal." An Old German Law from the 40's.

So it turns out that chilli tumuric and garlic not only improve cooking, but also everyday situations. and even some EXTRAordinary situations. Perhaps if Andy Gray and Richard Keys invited karen Brady over to cook for her using the ingredients so heavily featured in this writing instead of implying that women don't know the offside rule, or even if one of them decided to cook the otherones penis and used the same ingredients. then maybe there wouldn't have been a recession in the first place.



watching pornography together no doubt.

Manmachine201's uneasy guide to rightious indignation.

Having dealt with some of the most indignant Daily Mail readers in Surrey today, mainly by telling them that as their repressed anger and paranoia would be better placed being worked out via creative means like painting or poetry, rather than shouting at an assistant in a retail environment over something as pointless as not being able to buy a small piece of plastic which will simply be taken home and put on a shelf to gather dust- I came across something something that changed me from a laid back Kool Kat with the aura of the Fonz after a hooj line of ketamine- to someone akin to the red faced Adam Boulton losing the plot live on telly in the face of former Labour spin doctor Alistair Campbell...



No, not the lead singer of UB40 Alistair Campbell. Although this picture is rare seeing as it is the only picture ever taken of a man farting through his face instead of his arsehole.



See? They're not the same, but anyway, thats how angry I was.

I was in a shop, a music retail shop in the 1990's, having gone back there in a time machine (Obviously after going back in time to wake myself up before I pissed the bed at a friends sleepover, convinced a younger me to dump an ex-girlfriend before she dumped me and punching a younger version of myself in the face just before I said "Don't be so silly Darren!" In a primary school discussion, just some of the events that make me wake up in the night in a cold sweat. I left the one where I got caught masturbating on a bus because it makes an interesting come dine with me style annecdote.

Anyway, back in the early 90s I popped into a shop called Our price. Because I wanted to but an album on the day of release by a French band called Air. It was while I was browsing the A section that I chanced across the best of the 'Alan Parsons Project'.



Fucking disgraceful. The categorisation of this CD flys in the face of rules about where CD's should be placed alphabetically. The sensational Alex Harvey band plays by the rules and is filed in H alphabetically under H. The Steve Miller Band is filed under M and the Glen Miller Band is also filed under H albeit in the jazz section while applying to the same rules.





The Ed Miller band and the David Miller band also follow the same rules although they are not filed in rock & pop but in the politics section of the sunday times who's who of british 21st century politics.

What the fuck is going on, who the fuck does this wank think he is?

I went to the Hogs Head, (it was called this before it became the Slug & Lettuce some years later.) drank several beers for under 10 pound (Because drinking was cheaper back then) and planned my method of attack.



Like what the Japanese did in the late 30s against the Americans.

I decided that my only course of action was to write a letter to the infamous flaunter of alphabetic tradition, Alan fucking Parsons... it said...

Dear Alan

I can call you Alan can't I? Seeing as you ignore the fact that you should be filed under P in the rock & pop section of chain record shops as the first letter of your surname states, you fucking wanker. How dare you ignore the traditional set up of alphabetically by surname System which has served the customers of record shops so well in the past. You think you're special? you think that you're Madonna? you think you are Queen? you think you're the Beatles? well you're not, you may have won a Grammy (c) for best instrumental track in the early 80s but you're not above the alphabetical system that has served the hallowed music retail customer so well for so many years. Even Busta Rhymes (not even his real name! his real name is Trevor!) understands how important this system is in helping customers get what they want in a demanding marketplace...

You have 30 days to explain yourself or I expect to see you on uxbridge highstreet for a duel to the death.

Yours

Manmachine201.

[end of letter]



Trevor.

day one... No reply.

day two... No reply

day three... no reply

day four... no reply

day five... no reply

day six... no reply

day seven... no reply

day eight... no reply

day nine... no reply

day 10... no reply

ect.

on the 29th day I recieved a letter from Alan Parsons himself.

Dear Manmachine201

I appear to have upset you, for that I can only apologise. It appears that there are crossed wires here and that you are angry for a fault not my own. You see it is not me that decided where MY CD's are placed on the racks of your local record shop. Just so you know I am a person and not a CD so stating that I am in the racks is a bit weird. Anyway, I digress, It is not my decision where my albums are placed in the racks in record shops. That is the decision of the people working in Our Price's catalogue department. Take it up with them, and leave me alone, you mental fucker.

Love

The Alan parsons project xx



And why wouldn't he look smug? he won a grammy a million years ago.


I was not happy with this response and sent an open letter to the Daily Mail proclaiming myself to be the timelord and stating that I wanted a pre match style press conference with Parsons. I was refusing to even acknowledge the fact that he had a christian name. A direct challenge to the autocracy set up by Parsons when he allowed himself to be filed under A.

This was my next line of attack. He may not have been responsible for the fact that his CD's are filed under A but he knew about it. He's visited record shops and he's made a bee line for his CD's.



Essentially worse than anything Hitler ever did.

So there we were, in madison square garden facing off, all over the fact that he was filed in the wrong place. It was at this point that I realized that I myself had taken the argument too far. I'd filed a complaint with the European Court of Human Rights, I'd worked tirelessly for charities to raise awareness for artists deliberately being filed in wrong sections of chain record stores. Was I really angry about this or was it something else and I had chosen this battle in place of a battle I should really have been fighting?



Let it go. She's filed under G. For Gone.

If you're still out there Alan, I'm sorry. A lot has happened since you won you're grammy. I-tunes, the internet, the rise of the minidisc, the fall of the minidisc, dance music, less bufty haircuts, the decline of beards as a fashion statement. In short, a lot of water has passed under the bridge. In time I have learned not to be so angry and I am sorry for beating the fuck out of you in Madison Square gardens in the early 90s and I'd like to do a diet with you.

Once more, I understand that there are more important things to be upset about than where things are filed.

Manmachine201

Things to do with paintbrush when you're bored. (formerly, things to do in Greenwich when you're not dead.)

Because its easier than writing.

things to do in Greenwich when you're not dead part 2

The ballwork isn't as good as in Mileys one but her one was cut out.

Things to do in Greenwich when you're not dead.

How bored must I have been?

Manmachine 201's uneasy guide to Wildlife and Eastenders..

Now it would be easy to watch a programme by David Attemborough and be amazed by the natural world. how life is created, how cruel and beautiful the natural world can be in equal measure.



and monkeys.

I can however see through the clever editing and amazing camerawork. And it is for this reason that these programmes can fuck off.



This recent picture shows Attenborough hiding in the bushes. Wanking.

The reason Attenborough wanks in bushes is because not because he is overwhelmed by the wonderment of the natural world, but simply because he travels around the world filmking animals fuck each other. He is simply a pervert and one of the stranger ones at that. Its one thing to enjoy humans having sex with each other but here is some stills from some of Davids programmes.









This is the one that he probably likes the best.

Of course, Smut peddlers like Ben Dover who films men and ladies copulating are considered immoral by the stiff upper lipped, frowned upon and considered blots on society.



And rightly so, he's a fucking pervert.

But while he's paying consenting adults to do each other consentually, Attenborough hides in bushes watching Lion raping other Lions and not even having the decency to let them know he's filming them. So thats rape, not paying people, or lions and hiding in bushes whilst watching unpaid lions raping each other. AND as if that was not bad enough this is all happening at the licence payers expence. The BBC has a lot to answer for.



If this is you, and you pay your TV licence, not only do you fund smut but you're also funding the concept of baby theft.

Because, not content with funding Attenboroughs addiction to bushwanking, it has plumbed the depths looking for the most depraved writers in England. They came up with a story about a woman with a dead baby swapping her baby for one what was alive across the road. then she goes all wierd when the funeral for her baby happens. Obviously this story has recieved a record amount of complaints thanks in no small part to my 7239 phonecalls to the TV complaining helpline.



Me: Hello?

Me: Hello?

Me: Hello?

...the conversation went on for ages and I obviously complained, stupid!

Of course, I could have come up with a storyline where Alfie dug up wis grandmother Nana Moon and fucked her in the face in front of Bianca's children as they all got raped by one of the lions from one of Attenboroughs programmes. I didn't, because I am bigger than that and am not going to get drawn in to these tit for tat games.

On a closer look it appeared that the story wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated because the people in Eastenders are only actors and the events portrayed are not real life. Therefore, it isn't actually a big deal. Egg on my face. Yes Eastenders deals with the issues of today like swapping dead babies for the one thats alive across the road, but when the Beeb is paying for a man to film animals shagging all across the world at the licence payers expence, it kind of puts things into perspective.



And don't get me started on Outnumbered, what a rubbish programme, its not even funny.

Complain about the government or something. Idiots.