I feel very unsettled.
For the last twenty minutes or so Penny has been lying on the couch staring at me.
She hasn’t moved a muscle or even blinked.
It’s very unnerving.
And why do I have this overpowering urge to empty all her treat boxes onto the floor?
Why this sudden need to fuck the cat out into the cold?
Now this is just plain weird.
A new European directive will make it mandatory for EU citizens and visitors to receive official alerts directly to their mobile phones during large emergencies.
Mandatory to receive messages? I can be arrested for not checking my phone for texts? Can I be arrested if my battery runs down or I forget to switch the yoke on?
This is bananas gone mad.
Will I be obliged by law to register my phone number with them? They can stick that one up their arse for starters.
I am assuming that the system somehow sends an alert from a particular tower [or towers] to all mobiles within range, but even that doesn’t guarantee that I [or anyone else] will receive them. Reception around here is quirky at best yet it will be mandatory for me to receive them whether or not I can even get a signal?
Now our Glorious Leaders love emergencies. A bit of a wind or a flurry of snowflakes has them frantically running in circles, calling press conferences and telling us in breathless voices that we are in imminent danger of Armageddon. I presume then we will get a stream of these fucking texts telling us to do the obvious. “It’s raining. Stay indoors!” or “It’s snowing. Stay indoors and keep warm!“
Fucking idiots.
I’ll just switch off my phone.
I received a letter from Revenue the other day.
Normally they go straight into the recycle bin but this one was interesting. It was suggesting that I might have some medical bills from which I could get a rebate. They said it was simple. All I had to do was to go online and claim.
Yesterday I decided to have a bash at this so I went into the website they suggested.
I had to have an account!
They gave an option to open a account and all I needed was my name [which I knew], my date of birth [Which I also knew] and my RSI number which is what I refer to as my cattle-tag number, though it isn’t permanently clipped into my earlobe. They also wanted my address, my mobile number and my home phone number. I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t have a mobile?
I entered the requested information and hit Return. They then told me I had to select two out of three options for verification – my driving licence, my P60 or a notice of tax assessment. My driving licence was no problem. I probably have a P60 somewhere but it would take weeks or months to find it if it hasn’t already been thrown out. And as for a tax assessment? Hah! Obviously I had hit a brick wall.
Another way to get into the site was to use MyGovID, which they tell me allows access to just about any and every government department all under one roof. I had nothing to loose so I decided to apply for this ID, even though it pains me to facilitate their moves to tag us all into their databases.
I went into the MyGovID website. They promised that it would be simplicity itself to apply and that all I needed was my name, my mobile number and my cattle tag. I entered them and sure enough they sent me a text to my mobile with a code to enable me to proceed. So I proceeded and generated a nice password.
I was in!
So I went to the home page where they welcomed me and all that shit and gave a list of departments. I selected Revenue.
Ah! says they. What I need now to get any further is a Verified Account but not to worry – it’s easy peasy as all I need is a Basic Account [how the fuck do they think I got this far?], a mobile phone, a Pubic Services Card [which I have] and my cattle tag number.
I hit the Login Now button.
So I logged into the site using the login I had already used to get that far. That brought me to a page telling me to verify myself, and what was my cattle tag number. I entered it.
This brought me to a page with just one simple message – “Please drop into your local office to have your mobile phone verified“. What the fuck?
I checked where my “local office” was and it’s in Skobieville. No fucking way I am going in there.
So they have already verified my phone number otherwise I couldn’t have gotten this far and now they want me to physically go into an office to verify it again? Am I supposed to walk up to a counter and wave my phone at them and declare “this is it”? What kind of gombeen shitehawks are they?
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the government I’m dealing with and everything has to be as complex and as frustrating as possible.
Sometime, when I have a spare five hours I might phone them and ask how the fuck I am supposed to get into a system that is so secure that no one can get into it.
Either that or I’ll just hack into their system directly.
There is a new report out.
Be still my beating heart.
That’s a bit of a mouthful and guaranteed to produce a touch of indigestion and possibly contributing to a touch of obesity?
The very first sentence shows the current mindset that prevails throughout society these days –
The prevalence of obesity among children and young adults is one of the most urgent health concerns facing policy makers, parents and guardians, teachers and, most importantly, children and young adults themselves
Wrong!
It is a health concern facing doctors,parents and guardians, children and young adults themselves. This is a private matter between the GP, the parents and the kids and has fuck all to do with “policy makers”.
This report in its own way illustrates everything that is wrong with the Bully State. They claim that one in four is obese, but I would ask about the three in four who aren’t. Once again the many have to suffer for the sins of the few. Throughout the report they refer to “childhood obesity” as if it affected everyone, yet by their own admission, it doesn’t. Once more they are using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
It is the same with alcohol and smoking. Some people have a problem with drink. Some people enjoy a smoke and have no desire to quit. Yet all drinkers and all smokers must be punished. The mild tipplers must be treated in the same way as raving alcoholics and smokers have to be beaten into quitting even though they are happy where they are.
If there are obese kids, and I’m sure there are, then I am sure that their GP will be aware of the fact and can give appropriate advice. Maybe the child is lacking exercise, or maybe there is a genetic factor. There are many reasons why a child might be overweight, not least of which is “puppy fat” which will be shed as the kids grow older. All kids are different and therefore must be treated differently. Under no circumstances should any non-medical step in and force measures on all kids, and definitely not the government. What about those kids who are underweight? Are they to be forced into the same weight loss regime as if they were obese?
This Public Health racket is a danger to the health of the nation.
Let joy be unconfined!
After fifteen months it has finally happened.
I got up this morning and as usual the dog was out the door first. I caught up with her in the front room where she was standing, sniffing at something on the floor. I had a look to see what was so interesting and there was a wee mess on the carpet. It was sort of a regurgitated mess of red, white and grey so my pathologist’s expertise came into play and I ascertained that this was indeed the masticated remains of something that had once in the not so distant past been alive. I diagnosed it as the remains of a mouse mainly due to there being a long tail at one end of it.
This could only be the mortal remains of Marathon who has been pissing me off for so long. What’s more, the architect of his demise had to be Cat. He/She/It had finally, after all this time earned his/her/its spurs and was now a fully functional member of the family. About fucking time!
I have decided to honour Cat by giving him/her/it a proper name. I know he/she/it was named Malone but for the life of me I cannot bring myself to constantly shout “fuck off Malone” so up until now it has been “fuck off Cat” which trips off the tongue that little bit better. The name should reflect the status and honour of our furry little killing machine.
I have started calling him/her/it Mauser.
I think that’s appropriate enough?
