A few times
– and especially after my last post - I’ve been told that my blogs can
be a wee bit dark. Even the humour is dark. Personally I think humour is like
chocolate – the darker the better, but ok. Even though my mate Elayne and I,
when we are putting the world to rights, invariably conclude that if you aren’t
worried you are not paying attention, I am going to redress the balance this
week. Here goes with this week’s happy, jolly bloggy.
So – I
understand that the idiot box is showing lots of lovely programmes about baking
which, let’s face it, couldn’t possible fail to make everyone happy and realise
just what a world of fluffiness we live in where there is nowt more to consider
than who has the best muffins. And even if you don’t watch, you wont miss out on
the glorious chirpy happiness because some of these baking shows make
their way onto the radio as ‘news’ items and they are all over the covers of
magazines in the shops.
And, talking
of magazines, in the supermarket the other day, I stopped and stared at the
glossies. No shortage of vacant women simpering at the reader from behind their
photo-shopped, made-up, soft focused covers. And they are all so so so happy
they just can’t wait to tell you how they fitted into THAT dress or how the way
they look is completely natural and all achieved by drinking gluten free water
and eating air and mung bean fritters fried in mermaid oil. They did look
happy.
Next to them
were magazines with expensive cars that probably use no fossil fuel at all and more
magazines about people in soap operas who don’t really exist. Leading me to see
that life is one long fun filled fantasy.
And there
are lots of pretty women who can’t afford any clothes at all just thin bits of
gauze stuck to their tits and fannies but some nice people occasionally provide
a red carpet for them to walk on which is so kind.
In the UK
Parliament, the wealthy elite who have always had things their own way still
do. And who doesn’t like a bit of tradition. It’s only a shame they did away
with other traditions such as little boys working up chimneys and women not being
able to vote.
Talking of
tradition, a friend of mine who is searching for a job applied for a driver’s
position. The employers have a really quaint system where anyone wanting a job
turns up at 7.30am. The man in charge tells a few lucky ones they can work and
they get to hang around until 11am with no pay and the others all get to go
home without any work. It must be like getting to play the can-I-afford-my-rent
lottery for free EVERY DAY. How cool. And it certainly brings to mind stories
from those halcyon days when unions didn’t ruin everyone’s fun by insisting on
a fare wage for a day’s work.
And as I’ve
blathered on about tediously on this blog – even though we’ve not got
effective medicines for some of the really horrible diseases on this planet at
least we have Viagra so that Western men can have sex whenever they want. It’s
something the planet should really worry about – men not shagging enough.
The UK
government continues to sell Britain off to the highest bidder but at least the
nuclear industry is going to the Chinese – who – let’s face it – by dumping
steel on the global market did SUCH a fantastic job of giving lots of workers
in Britain lots and LOTS of future leisure time. And now, if there is a nuclear
catastrophe we won’t be told about it so worry about potential mass horrible
deaths, which would be no fun at all, will not be added to potential mass horrible
deaths.
Some
disingenuous sorts still bang on about inequalities in education meaning that
the richest rather than the brightest get ahead. And still more complain
that tuition fees have exacerbated that situation. Folk whine on about
universities acting more like supermarkets and students have scary financial
obligations but decreasingly valuable degrees. Well – what I say to that is –
at least no unpleasant shocks in later life.
And it all
goes to prove that if you just look hard enough everything really is jolly and
happy and completely super duper.
This week just
call me Pollyanna.