Legal Highs: Just another nothing to talk about while we look for more nothing dressed as something

April 12, 2010

Legal highs. What a stupid, banal topic that’s been blown completely out of proportion by a media that’s striving to not be stupid and banal, which only makes them more stupid and banal.

Firstly, the boring, boring, boring establishment of my stance on the whole thing: There’s hardly any proper (if any at all), actual evidence of after effects that are as a direct result of these drugs. That’s not to say that evidence doesn’t exist, or that they are completely harmless, but until we have some actual studies then anything written about it has the same veracity as Aunt Faye’s charming anecdote about how she was the one who stole Hitler’s missing testicle or how one user ripped off his scrotum while under the influence of this Mephedrone.

One of those stories was actually reported. Both are equally bullshit.

So, the fact is that little to nothing has been proven. Those self interested parties that are always tottered out don’t count by the way, nor any of that ‘research’ that’s been done by self interested parties. (Listen to BBC April 10th Media Talk Podcast for some actual talk on the subject)

The enemy here, if one exists, is boredom, and the disease is the self perpetuating cycle that boredom induces. The art of ‘doing nothing’ is something that is regularly thought about, regularly given out about, yet still strived for. ‘Hobbies’ used to be what we did in our spare time, now it’s nothing. And since no-one is dying because of this (until proven), why should the government be telling us there’s a difference?

The Internet has merely helped this, with everyone having an opinion (irony noted) and then wanting to be ‘friends’ we just have more and more of nothing to do, all beautifully designed as ‘something’.

So, we’re doing nothing. that’s our hobby, and that’s our problem.  Bollocking about on the internet, all just useless web surfing. Mindless trivia and endless funny cats. And why should a government be telling you that that’s any better then traditional hobbies, like collecting stamps or playing an instrument?

We’re filling our time with Nothing. Meaningless drivel about nothing that makes you think about nothing for a little while, until you find that next little bit of nothing to nibble on, but not too much! The more you nibble, the more a stray thought or opinion you might form on it, so quickly now, move on to another nothing and glance over that for a few minutes.

And we’re striving for this. Aren’t we? We do it anyway, do it regularly. And these legal drugs are just another nothing to fool ourselves into that we are doing something. Without proper evidence to show how dangerous they are, then we might as well ban everything else that might not be seen as ‘constructive,’ be it drinking, Facebook or poorly designed hand driers.

Why must we always be constructive? Isn’t that what work is for? Whose to tell me how meaningless my hobby is? That’s for me to decide.

So fuck it, why not pop down to a Head shop and grab a Tibetan Shitflop? At least it’ll get you out of the house.

Paul writes about his attempts to buy a toothbrush. Eventually.

March 24, 2009

I was walking to Dunnes the other day, right. Yeah, on the way to Dunnes, and, well, hard to say really. The usual dumped car was there, a Porsche too come to think of it.

Well, it mightn’t of been a Porsche, but I kinda see all nice cars as Porsche’s, because I really know not a lot about cars. I’d recognize a car from, say,  a lorry, but only from the side profile. Up front, God only knows, it might go back 9 feet, it might go back 30 feet, I am not in the know about such things.

Anyway, back to my semi-fictional story about going to the shop.

I mentioned this was semi-fictional right? I mean, I have been known to frequent the thriving consumer heaven that in The Bishopstown Dunnes Stores, from that tasty blond girl who I know wants me, to that tasty pensioner who I know wants me. Anyway, I needed a toothbrush.

That part wasn’t fictional. I did need a toothbrush. Its one of things that we all need really. So, in a way, saying I need a toothbrush could never be fictional, whether I had one or not, I would need it. Even if I was of the mind of not brushing my teeth, the need would still be there.

But some of this following story may of not actually happened. I have yet to see spindle shaped toothbrush packaging.

Anyway, I digress. Digression is useful here though, because, really, I have no idea what would happen next on this semi-fictional journey to Dunnes. Should I add some semi-fiction now? Perhaps I had best stick to the facts now, to set the scene, and then proceed into farcical whimsy later? Or perhaps not? Insert a likely event into a magical setting.

No, better I put my musings to a more worthwhile cause, one that will possibly be about a place that someone may have found memories of, so they can read this and go “Mmm…yes. I remember that place/situation. It was nice”. Because, I would like to think that someone, somewhere, would read this and think of something fond. A happy memory, times past where life was the colour of a healthy cheek, the shape of a well plucked eyebrow.

Also, perhaps, read aloud. So, at some moment, somewhere, buried in the static of snow capped cathode tubes, there could be me, musing on how happy I was that I could put capped and cathode together in a sentence, perhaps someone would then think of my beaming face as I you imagine me, chuckling like a mildly deranged loon at my own alliteration, that was in no way funny, but kept me amused for the duration of this sentence and hopefully when I go back over to spell check.

Deranged in the peaceful ‘I count floorboards but can’t look people in the eye’ loon, not the man-rape kind.

Of course, reading aloud could sometimes be seen as a bit mad, unless your surrounded by children, and then of course, the context of what your reading would have to be considered. For instance, words like context are unlikely to appear in a children’s fairy tale, or uttered by a Morbeg.

So, anyway, I’m standing there, looking at toothbrushes. 3 for 2, 2 for 1, 3 for 5, singled, doubled. Ones with plastic protrusions, ones with flexi-handles, ones with flexi-tips, ones with both that are just rolled around a sewing spindle. What to get? The eternal question. At what stage do I feel that my mouth is clean enough to be satisfactory? Do I want 2 euro cleanliness, or 5 euro cleanliness? Because 2 euro cleanliness feels pretty clean. For most of my life, it has sufficed. And I can’t imagine that 4 euro cleanliness is twice as clean as 2 euro cleanliness. It certainly doesn’t feel any cleaner. I look for percentages; “34% cleaner then the leading brand.”

Oh, that’s helpful.

Which brand is leading? I don’t know, these are not the questions I research before I shop for toothbrushes. I didn’t realize I should of done so. Silly me.

Leading brand…. all these brands have numerous toothbrushes. Which one is this brush 34% cleaner then? This flexi-handled one looks good, I can’t imagine any toothbrush giving me a 34% bigger cleaning sensation then that. Surely not.

Four for 89 cent? That’s….

Four for 80 cent? That’s 20 cent each. Does that do anything for my mouth compared to these others? These don’t flex at all. Surely these devil sticks would shatter upon impact with my gums, spearing through my cheeks, rendering me incapable of speech as I collapse over the sink, blood and toothpaste swirling into the drain like a famous Hitchcock scene. No, best keep away from those.

Yeah, I’m gonna need at least 3 bits where its flexes. And definitely gonna need some bristles where the angles are different. Oh, and that one over there with the rubber bristles at the side. I’m sure they’re completely necessary. Wouldn’t I look quite the fool in front of everyone as I speak, my mouth gaping up and down, in clear need of the cleaning that only 10 rubber bristles at either side of a toothbrush can provide.

I better get a few of the good ones I suppose, and chronicle their effectiveness against the evil germ nation that I’ve seen on TV. I’m not gonna let them get me, I’ve seen what they’ve done to those people in the pamphlets. Painting the mouth black and yellow, knocking down a few walls to create more space. I will not become a jaw-based home improvement show, no matter how much free furniture they offer me.

What toothpaste should I be using with these brushes? There’s a lot of them too…. do I need toothpaste? Maybe I should get some. I suppose I’ll have to get the right brand though. Surely Aquafresh wouldn’t work with a Crest toothbrush. The toothbrush might melt. Embarrassing.

“You see Paul the other day? Yeah, used the wrong toothpaste with his toothbrush. Talks like hes got a toothbrush stuck in his mouth”

My friends need to work on their similes.

What should I do I wonder? Tasty blond girl will surely laugh at my stricken state as she stacks the shelves, old lady surely feels my plight at this constantly accelerating dental world we find ourselves in.

Yes, I’d best just go home and research this further.

My New Favourite Thing

November 3, 2008

I’ve got a new favourite thing don’t you know. Bet you can’t guess it. Don’t bother to be honest. Dunno why I even have the following four paragraphs. Skip to the end if you want to be disappointed. I mean while will type for typing’s sake.

My new favourite thing. Is it my new found urge to get my assignments done? Nope, not that anyway. Even if I believed I had it, it’d hardly be my favourite thing. Especially considering I’m still churning out the same ol’ shit that always seems to be the bare minimum above average to still take buckets of time without getting high marks.

No, its not my hat. Though it is a fine hat, worthy to encompass my flowing locks that will soon be encroaching upon my backside. It was free too. Yes, free. Well, not really free. ‘Frees’ too strong a word. But so is ‘stealing’. I’m liking ‘obtained’.
But no, not my favourite thing.

My diminished levels of beer-drinking and hell-raising? Don’t even piss me off by uttering this. Or by commenting “But Paul, you were out a few nights ago. Blah, blah, blah, mleeeellah!!!” Got nothing to do with it.

And no, its not my newly developed ‘get-up-and-go-to-college-ya-lazy-bum’ attitude. Thats more like the really annoying girl that sleeps beside you, but thats all she does, hogging the bed covers. Yeh its comforting but its more of a pain in the ass to tell ya the truth.

Nope, my favourite thing, my new favourite thing that is, is The Apprentice with our very own Bill Cullen.
Cos it reminds me once a week that the retarded shit I do in college is just the way of life these days.

And thats comforting.

In a way.