HARD TO GET HOLD OF (# 74,869)

Mother Jones reports tonight on the social media scam of flogging our once-private particulars to finance despots to corrupt our credit rating.

To put this into perspective, imagine for a moment you are a country of some world power and not a nothing.

You’re calling the shots on climate change (or not, depending on the country you’ve chosen to be you) and suddenly Moody’s steps in and says:

“We note you’ve been buying mid-70’s vinyl which leads us to assume you will be a high risk lender, so we’re downgrading your national credit rating to AA status, until you can show us you can manage your music in accordance with modern technology.”

Yes, it’s bonkers.

But it is happening to you and me if we are on Twitter, facebook and LinkedIn because they don’t care that it might be immoral or, given the right fight for human rights, illegal.

So, here’s what we all do.

We stop publishing our daily dribble and boycott social media, en masse. Every single one of us cuts off this faux umbilical chord to work, to friends, to life.

We become hard to get hold of.

We live longer by living in each individual moment and not co-existing somewhere else.

We solve the shit we’ve built up one by one and as a species, and we move forward.

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She once had a memory, but now…now, she struggled to follow a train of thought.

In her prime, she had 900 phone numbers stored in her brain, only for them to ebb away leaving nothing but blanks.

She turned her mobile into the police under the charge of fraud.

She took to twitter until her patience shrank tenfold.

Her son sang ‘happy birthday’ to her once a week to offset the dementia.

But in her own unconscious way, she brought about the beginning of the end of the revolution of technology.

She never knew how. Nor did we. It just happened and triggered the resurgence of human endeavour.



On behalf of all human beings in the UK, I’d like to thank you for micro-managing the elements for the past season and delivering the kind of climate we grew up with.

Vegetables grew, skin tanned and the sea warned to such an extent it became a playpen for wok-sized jellyfish.

It’s time we set the record straight and reinstated you as guardian of the skies, instead of that bumbling old biblical git with the vagrant son who drew a lot of attention with his David Blaine antics in the suburbs of Bethlehem.

This Autumn, if you could chuck a few bolts of lightning as the kids go to bed, then tip the rain down at night, we’ll support Norway in the next Eurovision.

All our love to Mrs Zeus and the kids,




Here’s a cheery stat: suicide rates go up when the Tories are in power.

War, on the other hand, is blurrier.

If we look hard at wars fought in power by governments, and analyse lives lost in relation to years of active conflict, who do you think might come out as the most humane of the major political parties?

I’ve dug and dug and cannot back up my guess which is this:

Labour win the passive Gold MedalĀ (despite Blair’s fibs of mass destruction).

Liberals take silver (despite Asquith leading us into WWI – a paltry 20,000,000 over 4 years).

Which leaves the missile-slinging Tories to pick up the wooden spoon of peace with their role in WWII (which indirectly accounted for 70,000,000 over 6 years).

If any historian out there can provide a time-adjusted death toll harking back to formation of the parties 350 years or so ago, please do.

While we’re here, just chew on another ‘look-at-me’ stat issued today: More than 60% of British people consider themselves working class. Now, if we were in boom time and not wading out of neck-deep recession, we’d probably see that number half. When times are good, people are happy to say so, and when things suck, they say so (only they’re not so happy).

What would Old man owl say?

It’s just gone midnight, so best open your window, give out a gentle hoot and see what you get back.