All posts by Dan

A toxic mix of desires

I recently screwed my face up reading Van Badham’s article on the sexual violation of Jennifer Lawrence, and female celebrity nude photos in general. The quote that caused this face scrunch was the following:

“[To look at these pictures (no context applied)] is an act of sexual violation, and it deserves the same social and legal punishment as meted out to stalkers and other sexual predators.”

As someone who is aware of the daily abuses and institutionalised sexism that is subjected towards my earthly sisters, part of me wants to agree that it is indeed a sexual violation to view female nude material you have no consent to. After all, it is immoral, a clear violation of privacy and pertaining to nude (and therefore in this case, sexual) material but I still can’t help but feel a niggling itch that it’s an over-exaggeration of terminology.

Sexual violation usually refers to assault of some kind, or other sexual deviations such as voyeurism. The act of looking at the photos, however, doesn’t require that same level of dedication to one’s own perverse sexual self-gratification as being a voyeur in someone’s bushes. Irrelevant misogynistic last-minute resistance I hear you cry. I’m afraid I don’t mind girls and that, it is actually an argument for reason but I’ll come to it later.

Allow me to break this down using ‘star’ as a substitute for any famous person involved.

The creation of the photos were star’s choice and therefore cannot be compared with child pornography, which Van Badham did, in a rebuttal to criticism of her article.

The automatic cloud storage of the photos were perhaps unfamiliar to star. It’s either a lack of understanding of the technology or star knew and trusted in the cloud security but either way, it’s irrelevant to the crime. No ‘she shouldn’t have been so stupid’ victim blaming from me.

They were copied from the original file, not taken. It doesn’t matter, it’s still theft BUT we are talking about data. Analogies about personal property being stolen such as someone’s TV are not relatable. And by the same token data theft that is beneficial to the public is not relatable, like Snowden’s revelations.

The distribution or supply of stolen data to the public is highly immoral and an abuse of privacy. If it isn’t already, it should be illegal.

Now, with that cleared up. Let’s get on to the wankers.

One thing that was missing in Van’s article was the MO behind the ‘criminals’ she would have locked up for taking a peek, the reason why someone would think it’s OK to look at the photos against JL’s will. Van ignores the psychological and more importantly sociological conditioning of men who view women as objects, and for people in general to sensationalise celebrity.

These two things when put together give a toxic mix of desires that on the surface is disgustingly intrusive and underneath embarrassingly immature. While I agree it’s deplorable to take a look, it does not require the same compulsion you see in sexual predators. Men (or women) who have speciality sexual tastes that they keep within the confines of their privacy (where in the creation of said materials no law has been broken) are not and should not be covered by the same legal prosecution as those who opt to take it outside of their bedroom. Viewing these photos is inconsequential to the direct abuse of JL et al as, although a case may be argued for the popularity and ad revenue of the sites that gets raised as a result, the harm was done when the pics were put into the public domain.

Because of this men who view these photos need a good slap and awakening about the world they live in, but to be sent down?

There is I fear an opportunistic aura around Van’s article.

Her attack on a ‘crime’ she knows to be predominantly committed by males seems a great way to highlight the constant abuses men subject on women through their wicked evil ways, and take an underhand jab at them. The link she included to the site of the photos themselves in a way seems like a smug taunt, a dare to click. And advocating further invasions of privacy to track down those who have invaded someone else’s privacy.

It reeks of hyper-feminist, yellow journalism. The 2D, black and white, right and wrong argument in a 3D, colour world of variables.

Oh and just to be clear Ms. Badham, I didn’t give a toss about any of these photos until your article. So if I get done for viewing them for context in this kind of debate, I’m fucking taking you down too for persuading me.

Showering with your socks on

Guess which national paper’s website I was reading from these headlines:

· Black man can’t pronounce Worcester.
· Mother has huge tits; take a look.
· Jedward nearly drown.
· Troubled star moans about being rich while in rehab.
· Kanye West is still a ‘GENIUS’.
· Clarkson: fat.

Of course it’s the Daily Mail. Well done to those who got it right, and for those who said The Sun or The Mirror, you win too, because all their news is the fucking same.

Even the BBC jumped on the pricktard band wagon with this little gem about Mohammed Abu Khdair. “Mohammed, pictured here taking a selfie, was a sixteen year old boy (reflective pause) with a fashionable haircut.”

Granted the Beeb don’t like talking about uncomfortable issues but Jesus, give us some credit. We don’t need a trail of delicious breadcrumbs to keep our interest in stories.

If it wasn’t for Lee Camp’s Redacted Tonight on RT (Which you all should watch to prevent your brain rotting with stupidity) I may have already thrust my skull through the glass of the BBC front door and yelled “This pane is broken in case you hadn’t noticed” just to let them know what their ‘news’ broadcasts feel like to me.

Not all news is bad I suppose, there are some facts in amongst the bullshit. Some of those facts are even relevant. So maybe I should look at these specific stories I saw on the Daily Fail’s website.

I’m sure fashion is amazing. All those different fabrics and colours are like sooo in right now or not but the sheer amount of semi-celebrities caught stepping out of a petrol station toilet, larking about on a beach, rubbing themselves against a tree or throwing a pet down the lens is exhausting. The paparazzi must be like an army of ADHD-riddled snap addicts. A lovely dress that has an inbuilt coffee machine or a pair of sunglasses that can see through clothes sounds like great fashion news; Mrs Steven Gerrard’s post-meal pre-fag sarong and flip-flop combo does not.

The Mail generally hates ‘foreigners’ and non-whites but mocking the Labour MP Chukka Ummuna over his pronunciation of the word Worcester is the equivalent of mocking a Mail columnist over their pronunciation of the name Chukka Ummuna. They may as well have screamed the headline “MAN MAKES MISTAKE: NO HARM DONE”.

Some bird has obtained size HH breasts. This is basically just a subtle nod back to the days of the freak show. Add in a bit about her being a mother to have people hate her: story done.

Shia Lebouf got famous and drank a lot. Robin Thicke made a song about forcing his aging genitalia into teenage models and when his wife left he cried and made a song about that. Kanye’s mad and Clarkson’s fat. Am I the only one seeing this?

I didn’t cover Jedward nearly drowning as that’s the only bit of news I thought was worthwhile.

You shouldn’t read newspapers, listen to the radio or watch TV for anything. Sit in your house in darkness and put your tinfoil hat on, and your mild addiction to eating mayonnaise out of a Metallica cap and showering with your socks on may just hit the headlines. You’d love that five minutes of fame, wouldn’t you? You make me sick.

A thong and a ski mask

‘Look at what my partner heaved out of her vagina. I put all the photos up. LOOK. This one it kinda looks like its flipping you the bird hahaha. And in this one you can see he has Daphne’s nose. LOOK. Isn’t he cute! Let me upload MORE pictures of…’

Fuck off, and fuck your fucking children.

Oh, Facebook. I suppose it was the progression we should’ve expected. When Zuckerberg penned the idea for an online directory of local college flange he couldn’t have imagined it would turn into the whole world’s psychologist. I can just about stomach some of the Cantona-esque cryptic cries for attention, the conspiracy theorists who call for bans on anything edible that contains vitamins L through to Z, the brainlessly named ‘facerape’ about some hopelessly unoriginal homoerotic activity somebody has been dying to get of their chest and the weekly photos of some oik having his latest ‘best time ever’.

But babies? No.

As the actual age of the Facebook narcissist slowly rises, it appears the mental age slowly melts out of their ears as they discover what happens when ‘man put pee pee in woo woo’. And seeing as their entire life up to his point has been telling people (who don’t give a fuck about anyone) about themselves (who don’t give a fuck about anyone) the natural progression is to have a child and then tell all of those people who don’t give a fuck about anyone that you have spawned another little shit that no one can give a fuck about. And when they grow up, won’t give a fuck about you.

But that’s not good enough.

Because once someone becomes a parent they become very protective of their child. They wouldn’t want any harm to come to them, and they say it proudly. With all these paedos around you can’t be too careful. So let me just upload this little human being’s life from the age of ‘cunt-warm’ to ‘staggering like a drunk’ and hope no twisted uncle is beating himself off to it wearing a thong and a ski mask.

Hopefully as a parent you can recognise that he/she is a proper child that requires attention as opposed to an artfully tinted Instagram photo, and refrain from putting more images online for the Nonceville wank bank.

Maybe because I haven’t experienced the joys of being a father that makes me sound bitter. Perhaps. But much like childrearing, I have also never taken a selfie and god knows that would be a fucking treat compared to some of the hideous duck faces pouting about online like the race of the constantly constipated. I still, however, won’t be doing that.

Over the last few years I have slowly slimmed my online ‘friends’ collection down to under 100. These at present contain no baby peddlers, no UKIP chimps, no fuckwits ‘jus chillaxing’ or ‘rolling with my bitches’ in club toilets (because that’s where the party starts).

And how much better my ‘online’ life seems for it. Once in a while a scan photo might slip through, in which case you have a nine-month probation period to prove you are not so excited by your offspring that you feel the need to show everyone, like a child who has shit in his own hand and is so amazed and delighted he offers it to mummy.

Having said all this, I have been left with a barren wasteland of a news feed, consisting mainly of factual statements, the occupy movement, NFL news and betting adverts. It’s all very boring. I need to get out and play a bit of football maybe.

Has anyone got a kid I can borrow?

Employed by the government

“Get a fucking job, you lazy sponger!”

I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone is saying under their breath as I bowl out of my house in the middle of the day with a pair of shades on waving my dole money about like an American rapper.

The cat’s out of the bag. I am unemployed and slightly unrepentant I must say but I wasn’t always like that. Up until last year, when my company realised that a projection of income isn’t guaranteed and that my tiny salary would offset their discrepancy, I had worked since I left college at 19. Covered a wide range of industries, from slapping children to sending text messages from behind desks, walking around aimlessly on London Underground and most recently stapling bits of paper to other bits of paper (or removing all but one staple from other people’s staplers).

I was employed and loathing it. Apparently 80% of everyone hates their job and frankly who could blame them. Your jobs are shit! You! Reading this now, your job is shit! And you know it, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading a website of hateful rants. Admit it. You want to quit.

Do it! I didn’t dive back into work and I’ll tell you why. Russell Brand. No he didn’t inspire me with his vaudevillian mockney geezer ‘oh matron’ routines. He said something about voting to old Paxo. I’ll paraphrase: “Ooh blimey, don’t do that voting lark! It’s just the perpetuation of societal routines in which those elected demonise the poor and consolidate power and wealth to their elitist big business friends. Don’t do none of that voting or nuffin’ coz nuffin’ will change and that. Until there’s an alternative Jeremy, I shan’t, can’t and won’t participate in this complicité tacite. I’m proper angry and that now, Jeremy. You little scallywag, you!”
And I thought to myself (because not many people listen when I speak) if it’s not worth voting without a proper choice, does that apply to everything?

And so I am here. Unemployed. Because who wants to cram their face into the stinking underarms of a stranger on the tube in the morning and have his egg and bacon McMuffin breakfast dripping from his pores onto your eyelids like acid. Or spend seven hours pretending to like the boss’s cunt of a PA in case she convinces him to fire you during their pillow talk. Or having six-figure earners ask you how to change the font size.

Fuck that. Enquire as to your benefit allowances and get on that dole if you can afford it. There is something in the world that you are great at and frankly it’s not worth slaving away for five days a week if you could be doing something else you enjoy instead. So if you don’t have the job you want, don’t participate until you get it.

And if you need any more wise words of advice from me, you can find me in Victoria Park sitting on a bench. I’ll be the one with the fake Burberry cap, can of white lightning and a staffy between my legs shouting at passers-by “Get a fucking benefit, you busy do-gooder!”