Ill Thought Out Ranting.

In theory, with education your life should follow this progression:

School – GCSEs – A levels – University – a reasonable job.

Or

School – GCSEs – An arguably less, but still reasonable job, but without the wasted 3 years and mountains of debt.

As it happens it actually seems to go like this.

School – GCSEs – A levels – University – Nothing, absolutely nothing you’re going to have to fight for a job in a pub which will work you 47 hours a week for very little money until you wish you were dead.

Universities are no longer educational establishments. They are graduate factories, built on an unsustainable economic model. They use fancy marketing, with huge open days and lovely catalogues that show beautiful nineteen year olds smiling giddy smiles as they joyfully expand their knowledge.

There’ll be a page of numbers that tries to bamboozle you into thinking that those with degrees are 120% more likely to get a great job when they leave with their degree. They’ll be so likely to have a great job that many will have a job without even realising it, some will have two, a few will have so many they won’t know what to do with them.

The government are in on this too. It was not so long ago that David Cameron, then Prime Minister, said he thought 50% of people should go to university. Primarily because it keeps the ‘unemployment’ figures down and lands people in debt and Western economies are reliant on people being in debt, but we’re not here to talk about that.

They then go on to drop random statistics saying n% of graduates are in employment, so the system works. The survey is often flawed at best, however taken at face value, the statistic is usually impressive. However, may statistics fail to take into account the capacity in which these people are employed.

We live in a world, where more people than ever are degree educated… and yet, we are not in a golden age of efficiency. With so many university graduates, surely the business world would be booming, the world of science should have discovered flying cars by now and there shouldn’t be a place on television for ‘Love Island’.

Instead we have history experts waiting on tables, English Literature nuts pulling pints, astrophysicists working in milkshake shops.

Why is this?

I do not know.

Perhaps it is just the very fact that so many people have degrees, devaluing the whole system. Unfortunately, we live in a time where unless you have the best degree, from the most prestigious of all universities, you will find yourself in employment limbo. Retail and hospitality won’t want you, they’ll see your degree as a sign that you’ll flee at the earliest chance. Companies looking for graduates won’t want you, because they want the best of the best.

With a 2:2 you’ll find yourself cast aside and left to flounder in mounting debt and lack of fulfilment. People’ll say ‘why not try teaching’, which in the current climate you’d be better off blowing your own legs off, you’ll earn more from your disability allowance.

Then there’s the issue of experience. Graduates will routinely get turned down for jobs based on their lack of experience. In order to get experience, you will need to get a job in your preferred sector, but in order to get a job in your preferred sector, you will need experience, and to get that experience…. Well shit.

One day, all the people with experience will die. Then where will we be?

Well, no worse off than we currently are.

Whilst there are jobs (much like the truth) ‘out there’ the number of people looking for them are much higher. Supply and demand comes into play and unfortunately, whilst you may show some of the desired attributes, employers will decide to go with candidates that better suit their criteria… though they will helpfully wish you luck with your job search.

You’ll need it.

 

Make me feel less like a failure and download my kindle book. It’s reverent, silly, playful, self aware and incredibly cheap.

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Well it wasted a bit of time.

I haven’t posted in a while, mainly because it seems an exercise in futility, but also because I’ve been busy with work and life (which is mostly work). I have an Instagram (@entirelyforced) for my ‘art’ as I realised using a blogging platform to show off pictures was foolish when there is a tool especially for that, which has a bigger market too. Anyway, I recently sent a novel off to a literary agent and I thought as a way to cope with the imminent rejection I’ll write my own rejection letters.

Here’s one that made me chuckle (yes I laugh at my own jokes, as some one has to).

 

Thank you for your interest in our company and the submission of your manuscript, we thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Unfortunately, it is not what we are looking for at the moment. You see, publishing is a dying industry. Had things been different and your work was published you would not have earned any money from it anyway, it would have been copied and put on the World Wide Web in pdf format, the most disposable of all formats.

However, these are trivial matters considering the environmental challenges humanity faces as a whole right now. Arctic sea ice is at an all-time low, and global temperatures are rising faster than scientists previously predicted, as a result, harvests around the globe have suffered. We are vastly over populated, stretching our extremely finite resources to capacity. The planet is dying, and we all played our part in its death, hastening natural temperature fluctuations and failing to do a thing about it despite dire warnings. So publishing your book ‘about some bloke doing a thing’ would seem a rather trivial thing.

Even if the world survives its current plight, our doom seems assured. Petty disputes and wars occur each and every day. Religious zealots pray on the young, the isolated and the vulnerable, rallying them to an absurd and destructive cause in which the result is always the deaths of innocent bystanders. As a result the displacement of people is so severe that the infrastructure of neighbouring countries simply can’t handle such a sudden influx – though more distressingly they don’t want a thing to do with these poor unfortunate souls who had the audacity to be born in another country and have no right to a life in another.

Social media and the constantly connected world has left those not in immediate danger of death, has left them isolated and crippled with insecurity and severe neurosis. Body dysmorphia is currently more prevalent than it has ever been 50% of the western world are prescribed anti-anxiety or anti-depressant medications.

The future is a bleak vortex of doom at best and humanity is no doubt in its final and desperate stages. We are soon to shuffle off this mortal coil making way for the next dominant species. The whale perhaps.

So no, we shall not be publishing your ‘funny’ novel as we see nothing to laugh about! We suggest you give up, purchase a gun, crack open a bottle of Macallan and save yourself.

Yours sincerely,

A Redundant Figure.

People With Money are Terrible and ‘We’ Are Better Than Them.

I had the misfortune of being stuck in a conversation at lunch time this week. I say conversation, it was a conversation in the modern sense where – on the whole – it is made up of shouted non-sequiturs, a few references I didn’t understand and a few exclamations of a sexual nature. On a side note, why does the modern man feel the need to blurt out who can and can’t sit on their face? And since when have rape ‘jokes’ been funny?  You can try and sound as ironic as you like, but you can’t hide that intense flame of sexual frustration in your eyes, or the shame come to think of it.

As in all large, multinational corporations, where I work there are some people on very good wages, and some on not so good (me damn it!). And as in all life, there are people that are naturally attractive, and also those that have wealthy parents (by our lowly definitions). This is rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, however, it does tend to get us riled up.

In this unfortunate conversation we seemed to dance around a few particular topics, one of which was a young lady, whose parents has some amount of financial wealth should we say. She happily takes advantage of this, much to the rancour of my lunch time companions. She has multiple horses, which is just unfair as I don’t even have 1 horse, fucking one percent – taking all the horses. On top of all this, she had the audacity to allow her parents to pay off her new car. Can you imagine the spluttered outrage pouring from the lips of the unfortunate few? No you can’t, it was much worse than that.

“Oh Daddy will buy her a new car.”

“We have to make our own way in life!”

“Spoilt brat, lets key her car!”

“No let’s get some paint stripper and write slut on her doors.”

I would like to say the last one is an exaggeration… I would really like to say that.

There’s a lot of anger and insecurity about these days, and apparently the way to get through this is to hurl abuse at those ‘better off’ than us – preferably when they’re not there and can’t hear us. Sexism and passive aggression aside, the reason this annoys me so, is I find it very hard to imagine anyone not taking advantage of opportunities offered to them.

“What’s that dad? You want to pay of my car? No thank you, I wish to make my own way in life. In fact if you could kick me out with nothing but the clothes on my back, and then demand I pay you for them, that will be much better. Teach me some responsibility.”

More to the point, without going into too much detail, one of the speakers I know is in a good wage and once said he didn’t spend any less than £50 on a pair of jeans (Oh the extravagance!). The other, I know has had financial help from his parents too – but we can forget about that when it comes to our “Two Minutes Hate.” We can forget that the majority of us are actually in pretty enviable positions in regards to the rest of the planet (if you have an iPhone or access to the internet and the right to vote you’re probably alright). We are all in the positions we are because of circumstance and because of those around us.

Because, those wealthier than us are dicks, especially if they’re women apparently (I would go into this, but that’s a debate to be had by more eloquent people than I).

They have no right to complain… ever. Even if their aforementioned rich parents are killed in a tragic car accident, they have no right to weep, to even feel one ounce of sorrow, they can just buy new parents.

I don’t begrudge people their wealth, or mock the absent of such (because I am better than all of you) – it’s hypocrisy that infuriates me.

Why, when we all seem to hate these people – do we strive for wealth ourselves? Why do we play the lottery, or hope for our big break and a room we can comfortably call our treasury, filled with sacks of gold and jewels, and a crown? Surely, the very idea should sicken us and we should aspire to get rid of all our money, and our clothes,

Perhaps my problem is I don’t particularly understand money. I don’t get it and the very concept of it makes me mad, why do I have to spend 8 and a half hours a day earning it, only for a man from the council to take it away? I have a very limited interest in cars, so find it difficult to get jealous when someone’s parents buy them a new snazzy vehicle. What grinds my gears are the people that get to work from home. I want to work from home! The only reason I pursue some sort of financial well-being is so I can have more sleep, and avoid annoying conversations like the one I have mentioned. That, and I’d quite like to live inside a volcano, like some supervillain.

Over all – it’s a shame that we’re all so angry.

But I wouldn’t want it to change, as then I’d have nothing to write about on a Saturday morning as I desperately try and say something interesting in the vain hope that someone will hire me to write articles.

The FuzzyRambler

What Will Trump Say Next?

Even he doesn’t know. When you watch him speak, he seems perpetually surprised that his lips are able to flap about like that, and like a giant toddler first learning the basics of speech, with every word he seems to express a great deal of self-satisfaction. Unlike most politicians, who have a team of speech writers, a director, make up artists and special effects team, Trump appears to enjoy the old school approach of just winging it.

In some ways I respect that. I adhere to that school of philosophy myself, just opening your mouth and hoping for the best. The ‘let’s just do it and see what happens’ approach to life is an admirable one. Unless you happen to be a deluded, bigoted, self-righteous cunt. In this case, the “see what happens” aspect of the ethos is easy to guess.

I thought Trump had lost it when one of his major proposals was to build a huge wall to separate America and Mexico, to stop those pesky Mexicans coming in and doing whatever it is that they do that the American populace hates so much. In particular the bit where he suggested that the Mexican government would be the ones footing the bill. A part wants him to become president, just so I can see this plan put into action and watch the farcical nonsense unfold, like a sit-com episode from the 70s. It could be called ‘To Be Trumped’ … or something better, that was just off the top of my head and I’ve only just woken up and not had coffee yet. Trumped should definitely feature, it makes it seem wittier.

I can only imagine the way that conversation will go.

‘Mexico, I’ve started work on the wall to stop you lot just wandering in and seeking a better life. Can we have the first payment?’

‘Who is this?’

‘The President of the United States. We need you to pay up now, because those building the wall have unionised and are demanding money. If only we had hired some hard working Mexican immigrants.’

‘What’s to stop people just tunnelling under this wall?’

‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Never mind, cheque’s in the post.’

There was once a time when a weird, startled manatee of a man would make these sorts of pledges and be laughed at. World wide we be joined in ridicule, it’d make us glad to be alive. Alas, we seem to have entered a dangerously, bitterly angry time in which people vote for them instead.

Recently, Trump has been seen telling mother’s to remove their babies, who we can only assume were crying because they could see their future being shat upon by their grandparents and their parents. And he has also compared any sort of sacrifice he made to make money from real estate to that of a soldier giving his life for his country, and subsequently his family losing their son. I don’t know quite what sacrifices he is referring to, or if he even knows the meaning of the word sacrifice, to quote the man himself:

“I think I’ve made a lot of sacrifices. I work very, very hard. I’ve created thousands and thousands of jobs, tens of thousands of jobs, built great structures. I’ve done ― I’ve had ― I’ve had tremendous success. I think I’ve done a lot,”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee” Trump.

Of course it’s easy to do a lot in real estate if your father is already rich and well known in the construction industry. This is perhaps typical of self-righteous rich white men. Of course they will not know what personal sacrifice means, they’ve never been exposed to it, it is a concept forever out of reach of their limited understanding.

Whereas any sensible politician (and I am aware of how cynical I sound) would have seized an opportunity  in the case of the Khan family and adopted a sense of faux sorrow and solidarity and praised the sacrifices of a brave soldier and invited his parents around for dinner. Trump chose to insult them and insinuate misdeeds. Of course they weren’t white enough for Trump so he wouldn’t let them in his house. They also had the audacity to be Muslim and we all know where he stands in that regard.

And to quote the man himself:

“They’re not coming to this country if I’m president. And if Obama has brought some to this country they are leaving, they’re going, they’re gone.”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee Fuckface” Trump.

Imagine if they were Mexican?

Again, in a different time these actions would probably have him removed from politics and locked away in some kind of hole somewhere, a racist hole – for racists. Incidentally that will be another television show I’ll be working on ‘The Racist Hole.” Instead, he still stands a good chance of becoming the president of one of the most powerful nations on the planet. If Theresa May (British PM – I know, I keep having to Google it to remember too), has no qualms with sentencing hundreds of thousands of people she doesn’t know and have done her no harm, to death by nuclear devastation, Trump would probably drop the bomb himself riding it “Dr Strangelove” style, probably onto Mexico, stating all the while “this is a good thing. Oh yes, I think it’s a good thing, I’m not worried at all.”

In his great delusion, he probably won’t even fear his own death, as he probably thinks he can rise again.

And to quote the man himself (probably, I’ve grown bored of research):

“Actually, I have a lot in common with Jesus. We both worked in the family business…”

Donald “The Bloated Manatee Fuckface Jesus (apparently)” Trump.

 

To be fair to him on this occasion, the pair do have a fair bit in common – neither he nor Jesus would have gotten anywhere if it wasn’t for their fathers. Now, if only we could nail Trump to something.

… I may have just lost my moral standing on this one. Criticizing the man for bigotry and then belittling the death of Christ. But at least I’m aware of my own hypocrisy. It’s fine, you’re allowed to insult the Christians without fear of recompense, because Jesus told them to turn the other cheek. If they don’t they’re being bad Christians, and Jesus will judge them! The only thing that made him mad was setting up market stalls in a church. Imagine that – going to a place you know people will be and trying to earn a living… this was in the depths of history too in a land where basic amenities were scarce and expensive. Selfish entrepreneurs trying to provide for themselves and their families.

Anyway, I got side tracked.

I can only hope that this is all a bit of satirical performance art, and if Trump gets to the White House, he’ll grin rip off his face and it’ll turn out to be Sacha Baron Cohen and we’ll all have a good laugh. Unfortunately, I feel satire is lost on most Republicans.

I’ll leave you with this last quote from the man himself:

“I’m a massive tool and I like to put vegetables up my wrinkly ass. I think it’s a good thing. I’m not worried at all. I murder puppies with golden hammers in my big house. I sneak into your children’s bedroom at night and urinate in their face.”

Donald Trump.

 

I feel in the interest of transparency, a lot of the quotes were lifted straight from newspapers, and of course as such, could well be misrepresented or false as we all know journalists have their own political agenda to promote. I have done little in the way of verifying these quotes were actually said, and I can say for certain that one of them is definitely made up.

 

TheFuzzyRambler.

 

There Ain’t Nothin’ Human about Humanity Anymore

According to Bing there are 8766 hours in a given year. I will have to verify with Google later, as Bing can’t be trusted, it means well, but it’s just not as bright as its older brother. On average, we work 8 hours a day five days a week, which equates to say 40 hours a week. Times this by the 52 weeks we have in the year and we get 2080. Let’s say on average we get 7 hours sleep in a twenty-four hour period. 7×7 = 49, multiply 49 by 52 and we have 2,548 hours. 8766 – 2548 = 6218. This number represents our waking hours when we can do things. So as it stands, we spend roughly a third of our waking lives at work.

You might be saying ‘that’s not a particularly accurate template. I mean all jobs are different. The number of hours vary, it depends on how much we get paid and how many holiday days, and when we retire. There are far too many variables to consider to make a statement with an air of mathematical certainty.’   To which I would reply… SHUT UP!

There ain’t nothing human to humanity anymore. I often say in a gruff, Hollywood style voice to anyone willing to listen, which isn’t a large number. Those that do tend to say, ‘Get on with your work.’ Or ‘that’s all well and good but you still need to pay your council tax.’ Every day, when my alarm goes off, all I want to do is go back to sleep, just for another hour or two… sometimes I wish to sleep until the seas rise and send us all to our watery graves, paving the way to the fishman civilisation of the future. Is that so much to ask? Just a little bit more sleep? Apparently, for a human, that is a ridiculous request.

Every other creature on the planet, upon waking, if they want more sleep, would simply put their head down and continue. I had a dog once, and it was all she’d do. How I envied that fat spaniel. So, we’re not allowed to sleep if we’re tired. But at least we have a roof above our heads. The habitat of the human, the buildings that symbolise our advancement.

But do we?

That costs money… a lot of money. These days so much money that soon no one will be able to afford to rent and we’ll all be living in the woods as all the buildings stand empty. (On a side note, I was recently unable to afford my council tax. The council was very understanding, they sent me a letter saying ‘you haven’t paid your monthly instalment of £144. If you don’t pay within six days you will lose your right to pay in instalments and we will demand the full payment of £1,280.’ I can’t help but feel they are somewhat removed from reality, they exist in a world where the higher the number, the easier it is to pay. Give it long enough and I’m sure I’ll be getting a letter saying ‘can’t afford £144? Not to worry, we’ll just take it in blood.’)

In trying to earn money, to keep a roof above my head so I can have a bed that I’m not allowed to sleep in when I want, I have a job – which I’ve already established takes up a third of my waking life. In this job, we’re told we’re not allowed to text from our phones, no communication to the outside world. Whenever we leave our desks we must state where we are going, and then also state when we have arrived back… because though people might be able to see us, there’s every chance that our minds have melted into oblivion and are no more.

I sarcastically email my manager every time I go for a poo, and then email him when I am back from my poo, giving him details of the pooping experience. He is not amused, but it gets me through the day. The words ‘standardised’ and ‘processes’ are thrown about so frequently that they have lost all meaning. If anyone has the misfortune of being a minute late they are reprimanded and publically humiliated. We must produce weekly reports of the work we have done in order to prove we are doing it. Any display of humanity is swiftly dealt with. We become reduced to numbers, all clad in grey jumpsuits. Every so often a face will appear on our computer screens demanding we submit to the will of middle management (on another side note, what is the point of middle management? They’re like an appendix; they’re useless and serve no purpose, but everyone’s got one, and every so often they burst ruining someone’s day). All for a measly 19k a year.

You may be saying ‘this is little more than an exercise in catharsis! What happened to the posts where you’d just put a number of ‘funny’ drawings that you did?’ to which I say to you SHUT UP! One more outburst from the likes of you and I’ll have you evicted from the internet!

So, at least we have the social aspect right? The very thing that defines humanity, separates us from the animals… those lucky lazy animals that just sleep and eat, occasionally having a break from both to have sex. Bastards.

Do we?

Adult life drastically reduces the number of friends you have. Those from your childhood have moved on and are busy working. The people you meet as adults are those you work with, and we hate them. By the time you eventually get home, having waited hours for a bus or sat in the never ending streams of traffic, you are tired and hungry. You eat some dehydrated noodles and go to bed.

If you don’t you may sit and stare at your computer screen, or the screen of your phone, or at a mirror in a daze, thinking it’s a screen. You try and poke and swipe at it, try and get some porn on it, but the only naked person it will show you is you, and you disgust yourself. You’re haggard, your skin taught about your skull, eyes shadowed with fatigue and glassy with dejectedness. Your shoulders are stooped from being hunched over a computer all day. Your mind has been reduced to mulch from boredom, your chest hurts with loneliness.

The thing that looks back at you is not human, but some sort of skeletal husk. It may have been human once. It may have had the potential for humanity, but modern life has squeezed it out of you. The constant pecking from automated systems demanding money which you don’t have, the constant bleating of managers, the squealing of alarms demanding you wake up; the constant rejection from people denying you the right to hold another individual and weep for the loss of humanity, it’s all taken its toll.

Google says it’s 8760, nice try Bing.

TheFuzzyRambler.

 

Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life – apart from on weekdays

Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.

This statement, like all things happy-go-lucky and optimistic, annoys me to no end. It sounds all well and good, until you realise the job market is becoming increasingly slim and competitive that you’ll probably have to get a job in a coffee shop, or temping in an office whilst you do what you love on the side. Which makes for more of a cumbersome statement.

I love hiding in wardrobes. No one is willing to pay me to do that, and my rent is extortionate. The idea of everyone doing what they love is not feasible. The economy would plummet. The world’s population would be made up of musicians, painters, writers and people hiding in wardrobes. If we’re going to adopt this view, we’d best hope that a lot of people love the idea of working in Tesco, otherwise we’ll never get our groceries.

Perhaps, I am taking the statement far too literally – I do operate at that end of the spectrum where I take most things at face value. Maybe what is meant is – whatever you are doing, do your best to try and love it. Focus on the plus points, on the bonuses and the people, even if you hate them. That sounds good doesn’t it? So if you work in sewage treatment, you could focus on the knowledge that you’ll get a lot of money and the job market in your chosen field will never get too competitive. Or my personal favourite perk of that job: you can get a certain level of satisfaction knowing that you literally have to wade through and sort out everyone’s faecal matter rather than just metaphorically. It makes for a good conversation starter.

Wherever you work and in whatever field, find ways to make it satisfying. Find ways to make it amusing. Find ways to get through the day. I often find not wearing underpants gives me enough of a kick to get me through to lunchtime, but each to their own. It can be anything. There is that old saying ‘only boring people get bored.’ Which ironically, is usually said by incredibly dull individuals, but for the purpose of churning out more words, I will adopt its philosophy. If you find yourself bored in the office, find ways to make it entertaining. A creative type will always find ways to amuse themselves. Insert song lyrics into emails, see how many people notice. See how many coffees you can drink before you collapse in a caffeine induced fit of anxiety and despair. Become the guy who’s memorised the company handbook so you can pedantically quote it at other people to make their day slightly worse. Stand up and loudly declare ‘life is too short for this nonsense and I shall not waste another second!’ then storm out and never come back.

Maybe not. So what then?

In working life there appear to be two things of importance.

  1. A necessity to work to earn enough money not to be hungry.
  2. A personal necessity for self-fulfilment.

The trick is trying to keep the two balanced.

It’s true there are fulfilling things that don’t pay a great deal, just as there are jobs that pay enough to not be hungry, but to many are deeply unfulfilling. We seem to need both in order to live happy lives, I could get into Karl Marx’s alienation theory, but I sat through those lectures myself, and found they were incredibly boring so I shan’t.

Fulfilment may not necessarily come from occupational achievements, or doing a job you like, but from the location in which you live. If you’re not happy with this, change that first… then focus on a satisfying career… although to do so would require money, which in turn requires a job, which would directly influence where you can live. See, it’s all rather complicated. The people that live by this statement are either incredibly lucky, pretentious fuckwits with rich parents; or just find repetitive and menial tasks interesting and therefore consider themselves to be living the dream when analysing data.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just really hate that quote, and I want everyone to stop using it.