Let's Play

Did I mention that I'm doing a daily Minecraft 'Let's Play'?

What's that? You don't know what a 'Let's Play' is? You've never even heard of Minecraft?

Well, that's all the more reason to head over to my Youtube channel and check it out... and as it happens I just so happen to have a link right here:

Minecraft Awesomeness

Hypocrites

It appears to me that if you want to be a newspaper journalist, the main characteristics you need to have are a 4 second memory and the ability to be completely and unashamedly hypocritical. In other words, if you can give someone an hour long lecture about the evils of drinking with a double vodka in your hand…and completely forget about it the next day… there’ll be a paper somewhere just dying to snap you up.

Let’s talk about Amy Winehouse, shall we?

Let’s face it, Winehouse was an absolute trainwreck.. Over her career the papers continually described as a talentless junkie and they absolutely loved looking down their noses at her, telling her she should be ashamed of herself and to think of the example she was setting ‘for the children’. The only time Winehouse ever made so much as a blip on my radar was when there was another picture of her falling out of a nightclub or punching someone in the face or having yet another breakdown on stage.

Of course, to read the eight page tribute in the Daily Mirror the day after she died of an overdose, it appears that she suddenly switched from being the drug fueled crazy lady they’d spent years exploiting to a tragically misunderstood genius. Suddenly, she’s not an ‘out of control junkie’, but a ‘brave, headstrong artist who lived life by her own rules.”

My absolute favorite part is when the papers talk about ‘the media’ and the way it cruelly and mercilessly hounded her… somehow managing to forget that they are the media.

It’s like Michael Jackson all over again. The day before he died he was a disgusting, evil pedophile who should be castrated. The day after he died he was the King of Pop, a tragic loss… and the very same people who built careers on writing about he should be burned at the stake were suddenly writing long, heartfelt tributes about him.

So, let me tell it straight: Amy Winehouse was a moderately talented musician who died of an overdose that everyone with at least one working brain cell saw coming. It’s tragic, but she’s not a hero. If anything she was incredibly stupid for throwing her life and career away by getting addicted to drugs.

For me, personally, a drug addicted singer who writes a song about refusing to go to rehab just doesn’t deserve my pity and absolutely shouldn’t be held up as any kind of hero or role model.

As for the papers, well, someone can either be a talentless screeching junkie or a headstrong genius…they can’t be both.

Oh, and to the Mirror in particular: When Amy Winehouse dying of a self inflicted overdose takes up four fifths of your front page, but I have to go to page eight to read about 84 people being massacred in Norway (you know, a story that actually matters)…something is very, very wrong.

I don't feel safe here.

This is getting too much.

My Mum has two dogs. A pair of Cocker Spaniels named Tess and Barney.

Tess is fine, but Barney is a barely contained ball of murderous rage who would flat out murder you and rape your corpse without a second thought.

I took some video of him today for the inevitable court case.

Warning:The following video may be disturbing.

I'm Not Comparing This Blog To Renaissance Sculpture

Well, over the past few weeks I’ve gotten quite a few emails asking why I’m not blogging as often. The most vocal of these people has been my brother who apparently has a ritual involving the bathroom, my blog and his iPhone. To quote a conversation I had with him a few hours ago:

“Write something you fucker, I haven’t taken a shit in weeks.”

Well, I started to think why I haven’t been writing quite as much…and a large part of the reason is that since moving to the UK, the buffer between me, my family and most of my friends has shrunk from 3700 miles to zero.

Have you ever heard the expression that no artist is truly free until his parents are dead? Well, it’s true.

I mean, today we look at works of art like Michelangelo’s ‘David’ as timeless masterpieces… but you know that poor Michelangelo felt like shit when he was sculpting it.

Why? because he knew that at some point his mother was going to look at it and say “It’s nice…but did you have to sculpt him naked?” Or how his friends saw the statue’s tiny wink-wonk and asked him if he modeled it after himself.

 I guarantee that someone asked why a red blooded male would choose to sculpt a naked man.

My point is that even though I rarely write about anything properly embarrassing, I used to be able to write completely unselfconsciously. There’s no pretense in my posts. If you’re a long time reader, I can state categorically that you know me as well as anyone. In fact, if you’ve been reading since that first post in 2005, you probably know me better than a lot of my family and friends.

Of course, the other big thing is I’ve been writing posts for nearly seven years, and I’ve gotten to the point where I write a post only to realize halfway through that I’m not just repeating myself, I’m repeating myself for the fourth or fifth time.

Well, anyway, I’m not quitting and I’m still aiming to write as much as possible… but I don’t think I’ll be keeping up the same pace I was when I spent about 12 hours a day alone in my house.

Oh, and Andrew? If you’re that desperate for some bathroom reading material… buy a copy of my book you f**king cheapskate.