NEWSFLASH: Cancer Doing It's Best To Ruin Things For Everyone

So it's #worldcancerday and as much as I wish that hashtag didn't sound like it's a celebration of cancer rather than the pursuit of it's destruction, I still think it's always a good idea to raise some awareness.

"Who isn't aware of cancer you hashtagging buffoon?!" I hear you type. Indeed we are all aware of it's existence and that much is being done to combat it as well as it's horrendous effects on the people and families it changes on a daily basis.

But how about being aware of what else it affects?

When most people do this kind of social network rant they speak of how they have been directly affected by the family and friends who have had it and why that made them donate/sponsor/run a marathon etc.

I understand if you haven't been directly affected that it's easy to switch off and say "Hasn't affected me mate." and to an extent I can agree that unless something affects your life it's often difficult to find a reason to get behind it's charity.

But I can assure you, you are affected.

This year in the first month alone we've lost many fondly thought of celebrities and entertainers, some of whom we lost to cancer, probably most notable of those would be David Bowie and Alan Rickman.

My mum fought cancer, and a very close friend has been fighting it for years and still is. But you don't know them so there's no reason for you to care.

But you've heard Bowie, and your friends and family have and so has most of the world. And his work may have had a big or small influence on you, like memories from your childhood or your favourite albums or his inclusion on a soundtrack or it reminds you of a relationship or how you and your friends all try to do impressions of him, but in some way he has touched your life and the lives of others.
The art he has shared with the world has shaped it in all sorts of ways.

And he can't do that any more.
Cos of cancer being a shit.

Alan Rickman was a much beloved actor and anyone who liked him usually had one or two of his performances noted as their favourites: Die Hard; Truly, Madly, Deeply; Galaxy Quest; the Harry Potter films.
Again, he has brought characters and words to life in a way singular to his performance, style and delivery.

He can't do that any more.
Again, cancer is a dick.

I believe that when someone we admire from afar dies, like musicians and actors and artists and film-makers and so on, even thought we didn't know them personally we do have a right to mourn them. 
Though we haven't truly lost them as we have been left with the history of their legacies, we are mourning all the future memories they'll never get a chance to give us.
And this can be said of everyone who passes away.

I believe that people are made up of everything they experience in life and that shapes them into who they are. Bowie and Rickman are in some small way a part of who you are whether you like that or not. If you admired either of them, or anyone else who ever died of cancer like Dennis Hopper, Andy Kaufman, Bob Marley, Carl Sagan, Édith Piaf and many more besides-
In that way, cancer has directly affected you.

Cancer affects us all.

It doesn't have to take someone close to you.

But it always takes someone that means something.

Let's Hope They're All In One Place And Wearing Light Up Hats With Targets On...

Perhaps my opinions are ill informed or ignorant of all the facts, and I'll readily admit that I look at things a little too simply sometimes.But COME THE FUCK ON!!!

Now unless the terrorist cells our government have decided to bomb are all cooped up in one lone building that has "ISIS/ISIL/DAESH ARE IN HERE!" written in huge fucking letters on the side then bombing where they 'might' be is an infantile, half-arsed way of attempting to rid the world of them.

That is not 'targeting' anyone. That's carpet bombing a country. That's FUCKING GENOCIDE.

I am impotently livid.

If I didn't know so many wonderful members of it I'd happily welcome the human race be wiped off the face of the Earth cos right now we look like a fucking disgrace.

I'm embarrassed by the stupidity and blinkered fucking ignorance on display and I demand that every person that voted for the bombing be made to stand on the streets of Syria during this no doubt lengthy, expensive, needless, murderous campaign and see what it feels like to be counted as collateral damage.

You fucking hideous cunts.

Home-Made Lego Cufflinks

So last weekend I ended up attending 2 weddings. Joyful and knackering and boozy but happy to have been invited to both. After the first one though I noticed when I got home that a seam was split in the leg of my pants and my only dress shirt had some curious orange stains on the back.

So OFF TO THE SHOPS it was come Sunday noon to grab a new suit and a shirt. I also kept an eye out for cufflinks as I'd worn the same South Park cufflinks I've had since South Park first came out. I had a hankering for something geeky but the only ones I could find in highstreet shops were expensive and bland.

I returned home and reluctant to wear Wendy and Stan (vomitting) on my cuffs again I set about crafting a pair from LEGO, my most versatile and favourite toy/craft/friend.

And here's the results:

The main 4stud blocks are the front part and the grey part slips through the cufflink holes. Then you attatch the little blue bits at the back to stop it coming back through.

Here's a quick how to-

You will need:

 These x2. Dunno what they're respective parts numbers are called but to join the 4stud block to that grey T-joint one you need that blue joint one. It has a clicking-in-joint and a cross-joint at either end.
The clicking in part goes in the brick's central hole, thus:

 Then the grey T-joint slots atop the blue cross-joint. Hence:

Now, it should be noted that LEGO is designed to snap together but also come apart easily too. When placed in a cufflink hole any sharp tugs of the fabric, stretching of the cuff, or generally anything pulling or knocking it can pull all of this apart.
This is why I bonded all three together with epoxy glue.

(I am usually loathe to sacrifice any of my LEGO pieces by doing the unthinkable and glueing them together permanently, but I felt justified in doin this this one time because I have tons of these parts and I really needed cufflinks. Especially super cool ones)

So after they had dried I slipped the back piece through the holes and attatched the little stud connectors. Behold:

They attach very firmly in place and can be removed but it takes a lot more force, so the cufflinks stayed put all night.
I'm not sure what the difference is between blue and grey versions of this piece (possibly the blue ones clip-in part doesn't move as easily) but both types work just as well for this purpose. I just used the blue ones because they're bright and I'm less likely to lose them if I take 'em off.

I chose blue and red cos they're primary and went with my suit/tie combo but you can choose any colour.
You might be tempted to use other cool looking bricks too but take care that some don't have the space to fit the blue clipping-in joint inside them. See examples below:

 Of course if you use glue to secure them then that won't matter as much.

There are no doubt many other variations you can come up with on your own. I was thinking of using some minifigure heads but decided against it at the time. However it might be a nice touch if you had some that looked like you, or your partner or the bride and groom.
Just be prepared for them not having as much resistance as larger bricks. (and you'll DEFINITELY need glue to hold 'em on)

 Well have fun building/crafting, hope they turn out as ace as mine did!

Until next time fools,
Pete

I Don't Do Politics, Me.

Booooooo!

So the Conservative party would appear to have kept their place as the leaders of our government.
I'm not happy about it and neither are any of my facebook friends it would seem.
(That's the one good thing to come out of this- I know I'm definitely not mates with a bunch of dickheads.)

Most who know me know I'm not really one for politics. I tend not to get too drawn in to the discussion of politics because in one way or another it always ends in an argument. Or just as bad, you're all agreeing with each other and just impotently ranting about it to the other people that are already on your side.

I don't really follow much in the way of political news but it would be foolish and nigh impossible to block it out of my life altogether.

Today's news feed is awash with people asking "How the hell could you vote for the Tories?" and "Why did you vote for UKIP/Greens/other and waste your vote?" and "Why didn't you vote at all?"

Well they're all easy to answer:
1) People vote Conservative because they share their beliefs. Same reason as to why people voted for Labour or UKIP or Greens or whatever.
2) People didn't vote because they don't see the point.

I voted Labour.
The Labour Party has many aspects to it's policies that I believe are good. I also believe that the Green Party holds many good ideas in it. I would have liked to have voted for the Greens but my main concern was to get the Conservatives out and the best way to do that was to back their main legitimate contender.

I have learned that this is called 'tactical voting'.
This is because, no matter who else comes along with good ideas (such as the Green party) the two parties with the largest amount of support are the Tories and Labour.

Now it is clear to anyone that the Conservatives are more concerned with keeping the rich rich and the poor poor. That is fairly inarguable.
That is their prerogative.
They are people born into money or having capitalised on making money and of course they want to keep it. Most people would, especially if they are motivated by institutionalised greed. But in order to do that they must stick to what they know and keep themselves, in class terms, above the poor.
I cannot blame them for that. I could ask that they change but that seems fairly unlikely.

In the same respect, those that voted for UKIP because they have ill-conceived notions of patriotism and racist beliefs have only done what they feel is right.
Again: when your views and beliefs are so strong in your mind (no matter how wrong they may seem to others) then they are what drive you to your life choices.
If you're racist then you hate towards other races and that can blind you from looking at other/better options.
I could ask that they change but that seems fairly unlikely.

I can't state that Labour are the best option but I can say that, had they been voted in, they had many policies that could have changed this country's current state for the better.
But that is still a lot of 'if's and 'maybe's. Political promises are notoriously found later on to be bullshit.

You see, despite my belief that the Tories need to be voted out, I'm still not certain about anyone else that could be voted in.
The last Labour government didn't do the best job all round.
The Green party doesn't look like it could run the country.
UKIP supporters seem to be solely comprised of blinded hateful bigots.

I genuinely have no faith in our government to justly and effectively govern this land properly.

I do believe that our system is broken.
I've believed that for a long time.
That is why I haven't voted since I was 18.

I can't see a system that is apparently in place so that the citizens can have their say in how their society is run turned into something so far removed from anything anyone living in that society can relate to being good for anyone.
I can't see a society still so divided by class, race, apathy and economic/social/personal depression ever being able to see it's way through difficult times AND be asked to vote for the same people that always end up screwing them over.
I can't see a way out and I think others can't either.
That, I believe, is why people don't vote.

When all you see on political debate programmes or Question time or news interviews is people shouting their opinions at each other or defending themselves and their actions and none of it having any real world repercussions to your own personal lives, why would you want to vote?
When all you see, come every election, is politicians with little or no connection to the people they supposedly represent brown-nosing the populace with promises and begging on bended knee for you to vote for them, why would you want to vote?
When all you see in footage from the House of Commons is what looks like two gangs of kids shouting abuse at each other across a room while all the rest cheer or boo like a fucking pantomime in stead of actively getting shit done, why would you want to vote?
When you finally see something you believe is worth voting for and then you see the odds which stack up against that ever coming to pass in a system that is flooded by 2 main parties, why would you want to vote?

It isn't being apathetic- it's being disillusioned.

When Russel Brand came along this year to act as someone asking on behalf of non voters why they should vote, I got behind that idea. I wanted someone to come along and tell us why we should vote. Not a reason for why we should vote for them but why we should vote AT ALL!
That didn't happen.
What happened for me personally was seeing how fucked we were under the Tories that I desperately wanted to vote them out.
That is why I voted. And that is a terrible fucking reason to vote. THE WORST.

I am grateful for the opportunity to vote. But in a lot of ways I don't see that it works. Not in the current way that we use it.

I will probably vote again.
But I hope that when I do, it can be for something that I believe in, and that it can seriously help to make a change.

"ComeOnGetTheFuckOutOfMyPubIHateYouAll!" - A love letter to The Tudor

The Tudor is dead.

 

The news broke here this morning and an outpouring of love has washed over facebook like a tidal wave of appreciation, gratitude and support.

For those not in the know- The Tudor House Hotel aka The Tudor (or more commonly round our way t'Tudor) is a public house in the centre of Wigan.
Sorry, was a public house.

For Mr Miller, Mrs Miller and Russ the younger have closed the doors to my favourite tavern somewhat unceremoniously.
I awoke today to notifications galore to find it would be no more, like discovering I'd lost a limb in my sleep.
In fact a more apt analogy would be finding out that someone I know and love has died.

Some of you may find this a tad glib or overly sentimental.
Well fuck you. You didn't know the Tudor like I did!
 
This pub, it's patrons and owners, it's insides and outs, it's availability, diversity, history and legends have filled some of the best parts of my 19 years of going there.
It wasn't my local, or what you might call my haunt. It was my pub.
MY pub.
Not in the ownership sense of the word but in the way one talks about a town or team.
Or a love.

It's the one and only place I meant when I said "Lets go to the pub."

When I was just a few months south of proper I first hacked my way through the throng of drinkers to it's tiny bar and got myself a glass of wine.
It's graffiti covered walls, old nunnery cubicles, battered piano and eclectic jukebox reflected it's clientele like a mirror.
"We are you," it seemed to say as it grabbed you by the scruff and whispered in your ear, "So don't be a dick!"
Then it smiled and bear hugged you with the warmth of the horde of customers that filled it to capacity.

This was where I went with my college friends, and where I made new friends. MAN ALIVE did I make new friends. Endlessly. More than through any other life events I've ever had, it has continued to provide me with chums of varying degrees of closeness for so long I wonder where I'll ever find new ones.
Even friends I have brought from far afield have loved the place. I brought my mates from uni there one night when they came to stay over at mine and we had a whale of a time, naturellement.
A year or so later when they returned for another stay their first question was "When are we headed to the Tudor?"

I lovingly referred to the place as a black hole as there was no escaping it's gravitational pull.

Aside from the usual/new/entertaining company that was always to be found there, or the simple fact that my formative drinking/cultural/past-time years were spent there, it housed a vast array of Wigan's live perfomance scenes. There's nary a single person I know that would come under the banner of performer (poets, writers, musicians, DJs) that haven't at some point dipped their performance toes in the welcoming balmy waters of the Tudor.

On an even more personal note, speaking of live acts, it was the very birthplace of PICO.


The spongey sod of mine was first conceived of to perform at a special Christmas gig and was born into being on their stage. He was met well by the forgiving and no-doubt booze filled crowd. Two years later he came back and received similar bouts of applause.
So on he went to perform up and down the country, dragging me with him along the way.
A couple of years back he returned once more to the place which bore him to do PICO's Perplexing Pub P-Quiz for a few months.
To do those gigs in the place I'd grown to be so comfortable in over the years was an absolute delight, but to have been given the opportunity and support by the Millers in the first place was heartwarming and has allowed me to build a level of confidence I had never had before.
I will never be able to thank them enough for this or repay them for what they have given me.
Hopefully this little love letter will go some way towards that.


Over the years it has had several make-overs, expanding it's insides and outs, improving it's lights and sounds and looks ten fold.
But it never stopped being what it stayed true to being- the beating heart of our social life.
It was just where we always went.
As my good friend Jon has repeatedly said today: "It was always 'Back to base'."

It was our hub, our home from home, our safe haven, the first and last port of call. If you were headed to Manchester you met there before you went and headed there after returning on the last train.
I've done the same when going on and then returning from holiday.
I've taken dates and girlfriends there.
I've seen relationships begin, thrive or die within those walls.
I know people who proposed there.
I wouldn't be shocked to hear that nights spent in there resulted in many new family members being made.
I've spent Christmases, New Years and birthdays a-plenty in it's snug. From simple drinks to presents exchanges to full blown parties of every shade, size and fancy dress type.
Days- nay months, have been spent in the deep dark morning hours till well beyond any feasible closing time, whittling away borrowed consciousness from tomorrow's time whilst wringing out the last glorious drops of a great night.
 
We've all drunk the green drink.

It wasn't so much the building as it was the atmosphere and the attitude of those that ran and populated the Tudor that made it such a great place. In my meagre speck of existence on Earth I've never found somewhere as welcoming and comfortable to spend my time, outside of the places I've lived in.
I'm certain many many hundreds of others can say the same.
And that's what makes me sad.

It's gone now and not with a bang, not with a big good bye or a final blow out.
That's what I think makes it feel like a death.
We didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
I found myself thinking "If only I'd have known it was the final night, I'd have gone for a drink last night..."

I never really told the Tudor that I loved it.
 
Well I did. I fucking LOVED that place!
You hear me Tudor:

I FUCKING LOVED YOU!

Yes I'll go to other places to drink or meet friends but it'll never be the way it was when we spent our time in your loving bosom.

But I suppose we're all the better for having been there, having lived and loved and lost in a place that gave us so much. Friends and time and booze.
So yeah, there is sadness at the passing of a place widely regarded as so much more than a pub or venue. But the people that were there learned not to be a wanker just cos you're drinking, or that you can be a dick to your mates as long as they're dicks back, that barstaff can be friends too, that love can be shown by being helped into a taxi, that "Come on time to get the fuck out of my pub I hate you all." is one of the best ways to be told "Goodnight."

To the Millers I wish you a fond goodnight, God knows there's fewer landlords that have ever existed that deserve retirement more than Big Russ.

All the best.
              The bell has rung.
                            The jukebox is off.
                                          The Tudor is dead- 

Long live The Tudor!

Shane Black Multi-Movie Crossover Idea

Dear Shane Black, 

Please oh please write a movie that crosses over the majority of your smart mouth detective characters, revealing them to all be living in the same universe.

Here is a suggestion for the plot:-

Riggs & Murtaugh (from Lethal Weapon), having finally retired, still have the itch to help people & solve crimes. So they start up their own Private Investigation agency.
Whilst on a case commissioned by their old captain to gather some evidence that will help towards solving a murder they are shot/blown up/thrown off a building/killed to death with murder.
BOOM! Plot twist!

At the funeral we see Murtaugh's old partner we never met, cos he left the force to join the secret service, Joe Hallenbeck (from The Last Boy Scout) there to pay his respects. He quizzes the captain about the mystery surrounding the deaths and returns to his LA offices and his PI partner Jimmy Dix, incensed and ready to find Murtaugh's killer.

At the same time, Gay Perry and Harry Lockhart (from Kiss Kiss Bang Bang) are working on a case on the other side of town that is seemingly unrelated, investigating a client's apartment burglary. They're attacked and manage to fend off their attackers, but their client goes missing. With what clues they have they seek to find who is behind both mysteries.

The two pairs of detectives cross paths with each other as their respective investigations overlap.
Fun and fights and a profound use of 'fucks' ensue.

Turns out someone is killing off Private Eye's. Both teams try to track down the killers, each two butting heads with the others while still butting heads with their own partners, but their efforts are helped by some information from Mitch Henessey (from Long Kiss Goodnight).

They all meet up to discuss what is happening when they are attacked again. Mitch is hurt bad and ends up in hospital while the other guys try to figure everything out and who/where the main bad guy is.

As they head into the final fray, the big showdown, they are helped out by Mitch's former client Samantha Caine aka Charly Baltimore an ex-CIA assassin, there to settle an old debt to Mitch.

This muti-combo-meta-mashup will of course allow you to thoroughly pepper the script with 5-6 times your usual amount of your trademarked smart-mouthed quick-witted banter and gloriously well designed ridiculous set pieces of action.

Also, though it's surely redundant for me to mention this, it should of course be set around Christmas.

I ask this as a fan and a lover of great characters and action.
It would be awesome if you could find your way to complying to my wishes. I believe many many others would sincerely appreciate it besides myself.


Might I also humbly suggest a title:

Big Bunch Of Dicks

Yours hopefully,

Pete

CRUMP

Crump.
His foot lifted and placed itself ahead of the other, gently but squarely to the ground.

Crump.
The feet stayed apart, the space between them measuring in time more than distance as he hesitated to lift his back foot or even shift the weight.  But he knew he couldn't stay there much longer.
He raised it, slowly, hesitantly.  No noise.  He needed the silence, depended on it.  But he couldn't risk staying still. For a moment, a flicker of thought allowed him to weigh up which would be the lesser of two evils: noise or stillness?  The moment wasn't long enough and his own momentum forced his hand.  Or rather his foot.

Crump.
In sank slowly into the soft white, the muffled sound the only tell-tale noise that he was there, the footprints the only evidence of his past.  Another step.

Crump.
As preoccupied as his mind was with the situation of the moment he so desperately wished he wasn't in right now, that didn't stop it from still running needless background operations.  Such as how beautiful everywhere looked like this; exactly what his footsteps sounded like; how he actually might truly love to spend a crisp Sunday afternoon strolling under the bright low afternoon winter sun and listening to his dull enchanting footsteps if right now he didn't seriously need absolute goddamn fucking silence as he crept along another step.

Crump.
He paused.  His silent echo-less surroundings hanging still as if the world was holding it's breath.  In all this silence he believed he'd heard something, something other than his own footsteps.  Or thought he had.
His neck snapping from left to right looking for who knows what, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever could have made the noise he may not have heard.  Hoping to explain what it was.  Hoping he hadn't heard it.  Hoping, praying, it was nothing.
No movement.  No sound.
The world breathed again as he took another tentative step, wishing for an absence of sound but knowing his wish can't be granted.

Crump.
If only the world had a mute button.  He wouldn't be making that sound, that delicious memorable sound.  That damn dangerous sound that draws attention from the ears.  He knows if he can hear it then the wrong ears can hear it too.  And still, while he worries and fears and ponders his plans his brain throws up questions.  What's the word for it?  As he dreads the next steps he already knows he must take, it asks: what does it sound like?  His heart in his mouth, leg raising ready for the next footfall, it inquires: Can you describe it? Can you name it?

Crump.
The answers come as quickly and undesired as the questions.
Like biscuits crushed between blankets.  Like celery bitten beneath pillows.  Like bones ground between the teeth of a mattress.  A soft dampened crack, the dull crush as it compacts beneath the heel.  No one word.  It needs a word.  A forgiving, suppressed, crumpled crunch.
And just as the new word formed in his mind, giving it a real sound and weight, as if it had been a word all along, he heard it again.

Crump.
He had not moved.  The sound made did not belong to him, or more specifically to his feet.  It was the sound of a footstep, another's footstep.
He was being followed through the snow.



I wrote this last winter as I was trying to come up with an onomatopoeia for the noise your feet make in the snow.
I'm a tad disappointed we haven't had any snow here over winter, especially since we had such an awesome wealth of it last year and the rest of the world seems to be getting more than it's fair share.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.

Until next time fools,
Pete

Who Are You Gonna Call?

WHAT YOUR FAVOURITE GHOSTBUSTER SAYS ABOUT YOU

Years ago, MySpace was a new social hub where people from all over the world could meet without the limitations or needful boundaries of physical presence, or they might share insights into their personalities by answering and posting questionnaires created by 15 year olds, or express their creativity by embedding low resolution animated GIFs throughout their profile page.

At the time I reveled in it, able to finally connect to others across the globe the way all those terrible 'modern' sci-fi movies had promised me (or forewarned against if you were to believe the cautionary tale subtext of the Sandra Bullock vehicle The Net).

With this new-found technological marvel at my fingertips, I of course stepped timidly into this new world with one goal in mind: to meet girls.

In life I can be a little shy when first introduced, so I never really mastered the confidence to approach women and simply strike up a conversation. Given the chance to get to know them I feel a tad more confident but it's that initial opener that has always been my meet-and-greet Achilles heel.

Behind the facade of my well crafted MySpace profile however, I could initiate conversation with ease. But how to go about it? What's a good opening line? What can I ask that is not only an interesting question that makes me stand out from every other new 'friend' that's telling them they look hot in their profile pic, but also gives me an answer that may help me gauge what kind of a person they may be?

For my own satisfaction it'd have to be something geeky, preferably movie based- but "What's your favourite movie?" is way too bland. I needed something fresh. Something insightful. Something… retro.
And then it came to me:

"Who is your favourite Ghostbuster?"

Suffice to say it worked. A few times. I even started using it in the non-internet world. Not just with girls I wanted to talk to but with anyone I thought I'd like to know more about.

On the surface It's a very simple question that seems to be asking something quite inconsequential, but if you think about it, in all your favourite movies or TV series involving a group of characters you probably have a favourite. And you'll almost always have a valid reason behind it, even if you're not fully aware of it.

Whether that preference comes from a single line they deliver, how they dress, who they're played by, their actions towards others- it always boils down to who you are. Your own personality. How you perceive others through your vision of the world.

So what does that have to do with the Ghostbusters?
Well it just so happens, whether the writers intended it or not, that the individual members of the spook hunting crew from Ivan Reitman's 1984 fantasy action comedy represent several different personality traits. My theory is that you can combine these personalities to form the 'body' of the Ghostbusters. Let me walk you through it… 

Peter Venkman (played by Bill Murray)- The Mouth.

Peter is the talkative one, sometimes it gets him into trouble, but almost always it gets him out of it. Or at least closer to what he wants. He's ambitious but only truly in the pursuit of money and lust. He's abrasive; cocky; quick witted; funny; charming; sarcastic. Basically he's a little bit of a dick. Yet he isn't the most intelligent on the team. More 'street smart' than 'book smart'. 

Egon Spengler (played by Harold Ramis)- The Brains.

Egon did the science behind their entire enterprise: the proton packs, the traps, the containment unit. His knowledge is unparalleled and his work is tireless, but this has come at the heavy price of being socially disconnected with other humans. His emotionless approach to things is what keeps him level headed in a crisis and though he is willing to get his hands dirty from time to time, he is clearly not as adept at the physical aspects of the job as he is with the theoretical.
 
Winston Zeddmore (played by Ernie Hudson)- The Hands.

Winston is your typical blue collar employee. He has no real interest in the work or the study of ghosts or any other paranormal phenomenon. He is a breadwinner, simply there to make a wage, but never shying from the work. He is straightforward in his approach to every situation and is very much the everyman, the labourer, the manual worker.

Ray Stanz (played by Dan Aykroyd)- The Heart.

Ray is the emotional core of the group. He is connected to each member of the group in different ways (a clear bond of friendship and camaraderie with Peter; a mutual love and knowledge base of science and the paranormal with Egon; a good workplace-colleague repartee with Winston). His friendship with each one connects them to each other through him, uniting them, allowing them to work as a team. He is also a bit of a nerd who loves what he does and geeks out on it regularly.

If you look over each one of these profiles you will probably find some or many of these traits can be applied to your own personality, with one of them being the most identifiable to how you feel about yourself. This is a fairly well known ancient medical/psychological theory knows as the Four Temperaments, which associated four different bodily fluids with four basic states of being: choleric (ambitious and leader-like), melancholic (introverted and thoughtful), phlegmatic (relaxed and quiet), and sanguine (pleasure-seeking and sociable).
There's actually a really good Cracked.com video all about it.
If you're feeling cynical you could say it's also a little like 'cold reading', where you are convinced that you can see apparently personal specific details in a suggested statement that actually contains details that could easily apply to almost everyone. It's easy to see why you might think that, just look how similar the Four Temperaments synch with the descriptions of the Ghostbusters.
This is not coincidence, it's simply ever present. For centuries we have been provided with many differing examples of this line up throughout literature and all forms of story telling, especially when it comes to 'teams'. From d'Argtanian and the Three Musketeers, through through the houses of Hogwarts in Harry Potter, up to the kids in South Park and of course The A-team, with hundreds more examples in between from all across the globe.

But it  does work, and even better is that it works when you apply it to other people. Think about your friends. Who's the mouthy one? Or the quite one? Who's the one that brings you all together? Who keeps themselves to themselves?

Now take that principle and apply it to potential partners.
For example, I like Ray. I enjoy his character and I see similarities between myself and that character, I also like those qualities in other people.

So if a girl tells me she likes Ray I know we're going to get on.
But if she likes Peter or Winston or Egon I also know what she likes about herself and other people too.


It's the perfect conversational tool. It can spark off a back & forth about your similarities or a debate about your conflicting choices, all the while feeding you info about the person you're chatting with. It's never steered me wrong in the past

So now you know what it all represents and reveals, I supposed there's only one more thing to ask yourself:

Who is your favourite Ghostbuster?


Until next time fools,
Pete

Real Women Are Sexy. Sexy Women Are Real.

So, no doubt you see as many of these things popping up on social media as I do:

For fucks sake! Stop telling me what makes a woman sexy.
 
For one thing you don't get to tell me what I like. I choose that. Yes I happen to think both Christina Hendricks AND Keira Knightly are really hot because I don't prescribe to what everyone else is told to do.

Secondly, you're not helping anyone. You think you're doing curvy women a favour? They're curvy, and if they feel good about it and think they're sexy then they're probably doing fine and getting all the welcome attention they need. They don't need you cack-handedly attempting to help 'em.
But how do you think skinny girls feel? You think you're helping them feel better about themselves?  Or bigger girls, whose curves don't fit your 50's hourglass ideals?
If you think you're trying to break down patriarchal/media fed notions of how women should look then you've messed up by swapping one 'perfect woman' for another.
I wholeheartedly stand in the camp that says there shouldn't be an ideal body type for women to be aiming for- but you're not in that camp.
You're setting up a new camp that all the other dickheads ride to on the back of your bandwagon.

Also, I guarantee it's 90% women posting these things, not men. Hell, I don't even see lesbians posting this shit. Neither have I seen gay guys posting the male equivalent. That's because people decide what they find attractive- it's personal preference. And in no way should that be forced down anyone's opinion hole.

A recent campaign from Dove got it spot on when it showed pictures of women looking the way they look and posed the question as to if you thought they were beautiful. Obviously, the intention was to illicit a response that suggested everyone is beautiful in their own way. 

Unintentionally, however, they offer you the choice you have in real life: "Do I find you physically attractive?" Which, no matter what movie or tv show tries to tell us isn't the be all and end all of someone being beautiful, is still a big factor.

Alas it doesn't say "She likes Schwarzenegger movies" or "She laughs at dick jokes" or "She reads Game Of Thrones" or "She has season tickets to United" or any one of the many hidden things you'd get to find out about her if you got the chance. Cos for me, that is when she really gets sexy.

Rattling on about curvy women or if you're thin enough to have a thigh gap or having fake or real boobs/hair/tan- it doesn't matter. If she is sexy to you then she is sexy!

If it's cos that loose fitting jumper hangs on her the right way, or cos she'll act like a fool just to entertain your kids, or cos she knows just the right thing to say to you to make you feel better than you think you are, or how the recklessness of her bawdy Sid James style laugh makes her look truly free, or cos she unquestionably understands what Batman means to you, or cos she's the only girl you've met who agrees that American Psycho is an amazing comedy, or that when you're wrapped up in her she just feels like home.

Those should be what you're focused on.
If you'd all stop concerning yourself with what the exact perfect female image is then maybe we could move on.

Until next time fools,
Pete

Moon Jump

This is my idea for the ultimate thrill seeker's base jump of a lifetime.

I couldn't give you any mathematical accuracy as it's just an idea and I don't know if it'd work.  But if it did it'd be ace!
So bear with me...

So first you drill a hole through the centre of the moon.

Make it about a mile wide.  It'll need to also have elevators running down the side,preferably more like capsules in vacuum tubes.  As many as possible.  Running to both sides of the moon where the hole comes out.

So what happens is pretty much like a base jump except you fall for roughly 1000 miles.  But it should also act like a bungee jump without the bungee cord.

From my limited understanding, gravity will obviously be lighter but the long decent and the vacuum of space should help speed that up so you'd essentially be flying pretty fast for 1000 miles.  Like Superman.  Albeit in a straight line.

Then you'll hit the centre.

And you'll fly right through.  But then gravity should pull you back.  The invisible bungee.
Then you should bounce back and forth like a yo-yo through the centre.  Until you come to a stop, hanging in the middle.

Obviously there needs to be some system in the centre for catching people.  I dunno- nets or whatever.
(I'm kind of assuming this will all be in the future so the elevators and catching apparatus will no doubt be more sophisticated than I can imagine now.)
But then you get pulled over to the side of the hole and get taken back up to the surface.

Simple.

Being a mile wide it'll be big enough so multiple jumps can happen at once as well as group/team jumps.
I assume the future will also have the walls or the inside of your visor (obviously you'll be in future space suits too) with optional video playback to make it look how you want it to look: flying through clouds/space/underwater/bloodstreams/a urethra.  Entertainment in the elevators and up at the surface waiting area: karaoke/movies/bar/lapdances. The full package.

I call it:

MOON JUMP

Until next time fools,
Pete

Why Aren't You Related?

I'm sure we've all done it.  We've all had conversations along these lines, be it our own mistake or someone else's:


Film fan #1:- "Have you ever seen that movie with Gary Busey where he plays a homeless guy and he ends up living with a rich family in Hollywood? And he sleeps with the guys wife and mistress and makes his life hell?"

Film fan #2:- "You mean Down & Out In Beverly Hills?" 

Film fan #1:- "That's the one." 

Film fan #2:- "No it's not got Gary Busey in it. It's Nick Nolte that plays the homeless guy. Gary Busey is the guy that's trying to trap the Predator in Predator 2." 

Film fan #1:- "No, no that's the guy who plays Bruce Banner's dad in that Hulk movie by Ang Lee." 

Film fan #2:- "No THAT'S Nick Nolte. Eddie Murphy's partner in 48 hours." 

Film fan #1:- "The guy who's Keanu Reeves' partner in Point Break?"

Film fan #2:- "GAAHH!! NO! THAT'S GARY BUSEY!!!"


I'm forever having these types of conversations with people.  Sometimes it's simple mistaken identity that confuses them.
Sometimes it's stubbornness to believe they're wrong that drives them to keep pushing their point of view.
Sometimes it's the sheer inability to tell faces apart from each other.

In my case, if I ever make this mistake it's usually because they're incredibly similar looking.  But right after discovering the difference between the actors I get an immediate idea in my head.
They'll probably never be in the same film.
Unless they're playing each others relatives...

So here is a suggestion to the makers of movies and/or television programs for people that could play each other's relations, be they parents, children, grandchildren or siblings. 

N.B.-This post will be lady actors and then another time I'll put up one of gent actors


Elizabeth Perkins, Embeth Davidtz, Sarah Paulson & Bridget Moynahan

Maggie Grace, Leslie Bibb, Emma Caulfield & Rachael McAdams

Helen Hunt, Tina Fey & Anna Kendrick

 

Elisha Cuthbert, Alison Lohman & Chloë Moretz

Rosie Huntington-Whitely & Rachel Weisz

 

And the insanely obvious Meg & Jennifer Tilley

Until next time fools,
Pete