This Is This

Dear Mr. Jones,

Thank you for contacting Kimberly-Clark about our new television commercial for KLEENEX Anti-Viral facial tissue. We appreciate the opportunity to respond to your concerns.

This television commercial was intended to be memorable and light-hearted, and we regret that you were offended. The guru character in the ad represents a gentle, compassionate person and is not in any way a commentary on any specific culture, religious faith or belief. Please be assured, however, that we will share your remarks with those involved in developing our advertising programs.We appreciate your taking the time to share your thoughts.

Yours sincerely,

Person in Marketing (Name withheld - by me)
Consumer Services Department
Kimberly-Clark Europe

What?! He’s wearing red robes, he’s got mala beads around his wrist andhis garden consists of raked gravel with large standing stones in the middle. How can that not be linked to Buddhism?

I’m not offended by the tone, and I see it is lighthearted, but my heart would be a lot lighter if people stopped selling stuff with a Buddhist tag.

Hmm… I wonder what the ad agency has to say. (devilishly drums fingers on each other, a la Mr Burns)…continued tomorrow

Suffering With A Cold - Part 1
Suffering With A Cold - Part 2
Suffering With A Cold - Part 3 

Why can’t Buddhists hoover in corners?

Because they have no attachments.

Now, you can’t make jokes about Muslims or Jews, and that’s cool, but why doesn’t anyone mind joking about Buddhists. Even Buddhists laugh about it.

There’s the one about the hotdog vendor (”Make me one with everything”). We like a laugh. This site is read by quite a few fellow yakriders, and they’ll no doubt laugh along.

Prettymuchly, Buddhists are fair game. But of which that sometimes gets taken advantage.

There’s an ad for Kleenex on the telly these days which starts with a monk (shaved head and scarlet robes) walking along. Then he takes a step around a turtle, stranded and belly up. He rights it and they both go on their way. Nice.

He then rescues a spider from an uncertain perilous fate.

Then he grabs a tissue and blows his nose and then looks at the box, which says “Anti-bacterial tissues. Kills 99.8% of bacteria.” The monk, in horror, shoots a guilty look skyward. Then there’s a message comes on the screen which says “Thank goodness for forgiveness”.

You can see the ad here.

Now.

1. Bacteria are not sentient beings. You think Buddhists can’t use bleach? If you kill bacteria, your karma is intact.

2. But if you sneeze all over the place without a tissue, you spread germs and this creates suffering for others. The people around you will get your cold and pass it on to the people around them. This creates bad karma.

3. Buddhists don’t have a god. Sure, Shinto and Tibetan Buddhists believe in spirits, but not a sole deity in the sky in the theistic sense. Actually, they can have a god, but it’s not a Buddhist god. Anyway, the ad. Why is the monk looking to the sky for forgiveness? Mr Monkman? Do you think a being up above is going to help solve a bad situation that some packaging has lead you to believe you have created? You don’t need god, mate, you need a holiday.

4. Buddhists don’t have forgiveness as a value. Suffering and loving kindness, maybe, but not turning the other cheek.

You couldn’t do this ad with a rabbi or an imam, so why a Buddhist, who appears to be so devout? It’s not right, I tell you.

So I wrote a little letter to Kleenex, and bugger me if they didn’t write back.*

More tomorrow.

Don’t sniff.

*They did, by the way. It’s a figure of speech, anyway.

Apologies to Bonnie, for whom there is no 3. I’m a 3 agnostic, so I stick it in “juste comme ca”

Suffering With A Cold - Part 1
Suffering With A Cold - Part 2
Suffering With A Cold - Part 3   

I’ve spent a lot of time this week buying songs and posting about artistic merit, and why I enjoy certain songs I bought. But one thing stuck in my head more than anything else I wrote.

It was something yesterday about how Michael McDonald sounds great because he puts so much effort into his singing, and how Randy Travis sounds great because he doesn’t.

So how does that work, exactly?

All things being equal in terms of quality, is the performance better because of the effort put into it?

Take sax players. Charlie Parker could play hard. He breathed in air and blew out light. He could wail and get the pulse racing. So could Gerry Mulligan.

Ben Webster, on the other hand, or Paul Desmond - they were cool and smooth and played like cold silk sheets. They were relaxed. They sounded the way empty gloves look.

But the performances are just as stirring. Which goes to show that the perceived effort may have nothing to do with the appreciation. Or it might.

Maybe it’s both what you do and the way that you do it that gets results.

I dunno.

Maybe creative process and should, and always will, remain a mystery.

So just enjoy it.

Have a good weekend.

16. Snowbound - Donald Fagen
Very smooth again. It does my fagen head in.

17. Billy Joel - Allentown
Wait - don’t go. Let me explain. I grew up not far from Allentown. Philadelphia is one of those places with an identity, so they played a lot of their own talent and like-minded stuff on the radio, like Manchester or Seattle. So I grew up with Hall & Oats, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen and a lot of soul. Early Billy Joel is cool. It is. Moving Out? Good song. All you Ben Folds fans? Pick up a copy of Glass Houses. The later stuff’s just awful though, when he was trying to be a pop star.. Uptown Girl? Urgh. “In da middle odda/I go walkininda/In da middle odda….” Play us a song, you’re the piano man.

19. Stevie Wonder - Signed, Sealed, Delivered
When this comes on, I go silly. And a sitar opening riff? Fuck. Fucking. Me. Who knew? Who has dared since? No one, that’s who, cause they ain’t Stevie. I like wierd combinations in music. I like songs that mix it up some with things you wouldn’t've reckoned. And this coming from a guy who spreads peanut butter on apples.* Also, listen hard, you’ve got two drummers, one left, one right - panned hard. And the horn riff when it changes for the “…heeere I aaam baby…” Mmm-hmmm.

20. Richard and Linda Thompson - Wall of Death
This is is sweet soulful bitterness at its finest. The Thompsons were ending their marriage as they made this album and they wrote beautiful songs which echoed their sour break-up, like Shoot Out The Lights and this one, comparing a bad relationship to fairground rides heading nowhere and the apathy of going through the motions.

21. Ray Charles - Georgia On My Mind
Yeah - I know. I should have owned it. But it’s like living next to the Taj Mahal. You should really go, but because it’s always going to be there, there’s always tomorrow, right?

22. Canned Heat - Boogie Music
Dirty filthy rotten grooves. I like songs about music. It’s shameless and fun. It’s like those renaissance paintings where they have paintings of people painting. Doesn’t work in books though - just in case you’re taking a break from writing a book and you’ve stopped by here, I throw that one out for you to take or leave. Hi, though.

23. The Doobie Brothers - What A Fool Believes
This song makes me feel like dancing and that’s something I generally don’t do. When I hear this, at the very least I do the “Dad steering wheel bongos”. With the face. That’s the one. It sounds like Michael McDonald is putting everything into the singing and that makes it great.

24. Randy Travis - Look Heart, No Hands
It sounds like he’s putting nothing in the singing and that makes it sound great.

*Seriously. Spread on cold apple slices right from the fridge. You’ll thank me.

Faith schools in the UK are to teach people about other major religions. Leaders from the Church of England, Hindu, Sikh, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish and Buddhist followings have signed a joint statement to promote the scheme, it says here.

Good idea? Perhaps.

I think people who study music should be forced to learn about all forms of art, as well.

In fact, you know what? People who learn to play guitar should also have to learn the world’s five most popular instruments as well.

Yeah.

We’re in danger of becoming a nation of guitarists, and those pluckers should learn an instrument from each of the five main instrument groups: your woodwinds, your brass, percussion, strings and electronic.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

…an adventure in buying singles I love and should already own and don’t.

7. Joni Mitchell - Coyote
Shouldn’t work but does, again. Also Jaco Pastorius on bass.

8. Canned Heat - Going Up The Country
If only for the lines: “I’m going I’m going where the water tastes like wine./I’m going where the water tastes like wine./ We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time.” Flutes in blues. More of it. Roland Kirk’ll tell you. Listen to his Sackful Of Soul.

9. The Band - Up On Cripple Creek
One of the great live bands. You must love Levon Helm’s voice. I want to buy me a big old house and an ill-fitting suit when I hear this one.

10. Pink Floyd- Learning to Fly
I’m not a huge fan of The/Pink (delete as applicable) Floyd. From the trite early stuff to the pompous later tracks (nb: call them “tracks” instead of songs, man), but this is a good one. Even if it does sound like someone’s sliding metal filing cabinets round in the background. Dave Gilmour and Nick Drake: Posh boys singing their hearts out. “Fatal attraction that’s holding me fahhst/How can I escape this irristible grahhsp”. You can almost hear the blinis.

11. The Shirelles - Will You Love Me Tomorrow
It’s only once an era is really over that you can measure greatness.
Heart of Glass - New Wave
Dancing Queen - Disco
Foggy Mountain Breakdown - Bluegrass
Ornithology - Bebop jazz
and this
the most perfect song in its field.

12. Springsteen - Hungry Heart
For all of Monday’s reasons*, and also a great opening line “Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack/I went out for a ride and I never went back.” It’s kind of the opening line of the guy on a barstool who swings it round and says.

13. A Small Victory - Faith No More
Thick guitars, thicker irony and spoken vocals over hard drums.

14. Cindi Lauper - True Colours
The greatest vocal performance of the 80’s. And I’m including Kenny Loggins.

15. Donald Fagen - IGY (International Geophysical Year)
Every time this comes on the radio, it reminds me of a snapshot of me. I’m standing on a railing in a crowd in Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia. It’s summer and I’m nine years old with the east coast humidy accentuating my 1970’s polyester clothing. I must have heard this song a hundred times since, but it was playing that afternoon and every time hear the nasal twines, minor ninths, synth pitch bends and mellodeon, I’m right back there next to the Schuykill River.

“On that train of graphite and glitter
Under sea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
Well by ‘76, we’ll be A-OK.”

——-

And I’ve still got 13 pounds left.

*For All Of Monday’s Reason’s is a nice title.

I was given a gift of music this Christmas. An i-tunes voucher packet full of 25 pounds’ worth of music. So now I’m buying songs I love by folks whose albums I don’t own.

So far, here’s what I’ve got (and apologies because I should own this stuff already):

Oh, and I’m also going to write about them: :

1. The Beach Boys - Surfer Girl
Harmonies you could toast marshmellows on.

2. Blondie - Heart of Glass
You can’t beat a bit of small-band new wave pop sometimes. Also the kind of drumming that sounds easy but isn’t.

3. Steve Winwood - Back In The Highlife Again
This isn’t a great song. Seriously, get the sheet music and play it on whatever it is you play. Get drunk with your mates and sing it out. It’s not that good. Clippy little lines in the verse with bumper-sticker philosophies and a repetitive chorus. But it sounds soooo good. It’s got a driving snare, fiddle, synth, a great mandolin track on it. It’s got those breakdowns then leads you back into the chorus. Oh, and did I mention harmonies by James Taylor? Slipped my mind.

4. The Waterboys - The Whole Of The Moon
Brigadoon? Turnstiles? Dumbfounded? Ferryboats? Swooned? The old-fashioned words. You look at it on paper and it doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work. It’s like looking at a jumbo jet on the ground. And yet when they gets going: there it is.

5. Bruce Springsteen - Glory Days
This sounds like the best bar band in the world. I love the way the band talk to each other before the changes. I picture Springsteen and Little Steven exchanging gurns at their mic stands. That’s what being in a band is all about.

6. The Wailers - Craven Choke Puppy
I love the old Bob Marley stuff. Rude boy roots rastafari ragamuffin stylee. And ting, of course. I wonder if it sounded this good to them when they recorded it. Would they have had any idea what they were bound for.

I’ve done it. I have bridged the gap between print and music.

I am writing this today, you know, the time has come to say “hello”.
I am writing this today, you know, the time has come to say “hello”.
I am writing this today, you know, the time has come to say “hello”.
I am writing this today, you know, the time has come to say “hello”.

See that? Close, four part, font harmonies.

What?!

Font harmonies, people!

Please yourselves.
Please yourselves.
Please yourselves.

It’s been a hell of a week after being caught in a downpour, burying my grandmother (my grandfather put it well when he said “We have to stop meeting like this”) and getting sick in bed, so to cheer myself up I am spending the rest of the day mumbling like KanYeWest. I’ll try anything.

I am off sick today, with no voice and a body that seems to be importing snot from somewhere, smuggling it into my head and pouring it out of my nose.

There must be some kind of booger racket going on, because my own head would not be able to produce so much of the stuff. There isn’t the storage, for a start, so I suspect some kind of mucus cartel is at work, although their purpose is not yet clear.

Back in the living on Monday. I’m feeling lucky.

Oooh, and if anyone wants to make any jokes about me, then please post your country’s flag to the comments section of this blog. Thanks.

I was talking to a friend on the bus on the way home. Well, not so much a friend as a guy I talk to who’s all right.

I’m pretty sure his name is Paul. At least that’s what I call him. He hasn’t said his name because he doesn’t talk about himself in the third person on account of his sanity. I know his wife is called Julia because he mentions her. I don’t think he knows my name, or at least if he does he never says it.

He’s into nerdy vampire geek flicks like Constantine and The Matrix and Sin City, which I quite like so we talk about those sometimes. I’ve got this DVD rental deal which sends me more films than I have time to watch, so I asked him what he recommended. He told me about a film called Serenity all about vanquishing stuff and epic warlords and things.

Knowing what I’m like, I add it to my to-do list. I have three of these: work to-dos, me to-dos and notes to-dos. Enough said.

But above all this,there sits in the middle of my waller a half torn post-it note which is the mother of all lists. There are never more than two things on this list because they are normally urgent, vital things. I think of it as a right-this-is-very-important-fuck-this-up-and-you’re-fucked list. Or just small things I need to remember on a short-term basis that aren’t important enough to truly remember. These should really be two separate lists, but I’m trying to cut down.

So I got out a pen and I opened my wallet and wrote on the post-it note:

Serenity

What’s the next thing I think? I’ll tell you:

“If this bus crashes and I die, someone will go through my stuff and the first thing they will see in my wallet is the word ‘Serenity’ on an otherwise blank yellow note torn in half and stuck on the inside of my wallet.”

I went on to wonder if people would spend ages wondering what it meant and why I carried the word around with me. Or if they did figure it out, would they go and watch the film and read into it?

And that, dear reader, is how my head works sometimes.

You know when you hear something you can tell where the sound is coming from? How come you can’t do that with a smell?

You tend you just kind of walk into a smell.

“Hey, it smells of tacos.”

But you can’t tell where the source is, so you wander about a bit.

“Wow - it really smells of tacos now.”

And you’re like this big smelly pacing dufus.

“Hey, it is so tacoey right over here.”

But all the time it’s trial and error. If hearing was like that we’d probably be dead. True, you’ve got the waft, but imagine if you had to waft sounds into your ears? You don’t because hearing is directional. I think it’s something to do with your ears being on the side of you head, but then then our eyes are close together, and they work just fine.

I’m normally against genetic engineering* but I’d have to say that directional smell would be one improvement I would like to see. They can do it in cartoons, like when the dog smells a pie on a window ledge and he floats off in that direction, drifting with his nose in the vapour. That’s what I’m talking about.

I pass a sewage treatment plant on the way to work and it stinks**, especially when it’s raining, because that breaks the surface of the shitpools (sorry but they are). But how stupid is it that a whole busload of people can’t tell if the stench is coming from the left or the right ride of the road as we drive past?

Millions of years of evolution behind us and I could float an air biscuit at that moment, sitting right next to someone and they would have no idea it was me.

See with directional smell, I would be able to stand over a buffet and go straight to what I liked. I’d have that vital edge over the other diners.

It’s worth looking into, you think?

Smell you later.

*This is on account of my own physical perfection
** The plant stinks, that is, not work, although don’t get me started

Do I listen? No.

The internal battery on my Psion died on the way home yesterday. The internal one’s the one that backs up all the memory. The AA ones die and everything’s cool but when the internal goes I’m in trouble.

Which is why today’s post has gone to wherever posts go when they don’t get posted. But with today being Valentine’s Day, I have a tubload of pecan and walnut, homemade, chocolate brownies to take to work for my steamed colleagues.

Wife and I promised we wouldn’t do anything fancy for Valentine’s, because we’re going on holiday soon, so I think, “great, no grand sweeping romantic gestures”. Then she does nothing fancy and it blows me away.

Two trays of brownies get lovingly made - more than we can eat ourselves so she tells me to take them to work because I’ve got that meeting I don’t even remember telling her about.

I sometimes wonder if the emotion will run out. I remember when my daughter was born, thinking: “Will I love her as much as my son and my wife? How can I care any more - surely that’s a third of caring now instead of half for them. Maybe if we killed the cats I could use that love for her.”

But who knew? - Love is like a heart reservoir. It’s unconditional and neverending if it’s real, and the more that comes along, you more you have.

Make someone smile today. You’re indestructible.

Still pissed off about those batteries, though.

hehe - just ran a spellcheck on this and it wanted to replace Psion with “passion”. The whole battery thing just sounds wrong now.

Me: “Morning.”

Sarcastic Colleague: “Morning.”

Me: “How are you?”

Sarcastic Colleague: “Very well. Excellent. Everything’s just great.”

Me: “OK…”

Sarcastic Colleague: “I must say that’s very perceptive for a man.”

Which I took offence to because I didn’t make any perceptions, and I wasn’t doing anything from a male perspective. Or middle class or white, either. So I’m all like…

Me: “I must say that’s very sexist for a woman.”

And she’s like…

Sarcastic Colleague : “Don’t OK? Just don’t. I’ve had three hours sleep and I do no want the stress, OK? Don’t go there and back off.”

And I’m all…

Me: “Hey, I’m not exactly a morning person either.”

And I walked off to make a coffee. You see that? Coffee. Typical man.

A shitty morning.

They were mountain rescuers.

“If you climb that, I’m not coming up after your ass..”

They were nudists.

“I said crampons!”

And what goes up…

“Stay there!!!”

… always comes down.

“Please - don’t let go.”

…Because It’s THERE.

“I can’t take your money, ma’am.”

“Oh sure. Just doing your job, right?”

“Nope. - …No pockets.”

Rated K2, contains nudity and mild flurries.

Brokeback Mountain is all the rage in the media circles. I wonder if there are gay cowboys communities who are pissed off at the success of Brokeback Mountain because the film is stealing all the searches. No I haven’t seen the film, since you ask, but from what I gather it’s about these two gay men who, it turns out, are cowboys.

But I’m open minded. Mattafack I had a couple of cowboy-related experiences when I was in Uni. But it wasn’t for me. Couldn’t deal with the rope burns.

A couple of years ago, Denzel Washington, Halle Berry and Sidney Poitier won the three biggest oscars of the night. And why not?

But when a reporter that night asked Samuel L Jackson what he thought of the achievement for African American actors, he said something like “It’s great. And to truly be seen on equal terms, hopefully will be the last year that black actors are referred to as ‘black actors’ instead of just ‘actors’.”

I totally agree. Also, “what” ain’t no country and this is a tasty burger. But I digress. Hopefully this is the last year we’ll be making a fuss and films like Brokeback Mountain will just be seen for what they are. Westerns.

And I also hope there are no spin-off films. You know how one studio will copy the success of another blockbuster with a film which is similar.

You got A Bug’s Life, you got Ants.

You got Lord of the Rings, you got Narnia.

You got Gladiator, you got Troy.

You got Armegeddon, you got Deep Impact.

You got The Truman Show, you got Ed TV.

You got Wyatt Earp, you got Tombstone.

You got St. Elmos Fire*, you got The Breakfast Club.

So what’s coming with Brokeback Mountain? A film about dyslexic sub-editors? Claustrophobic miners? Nudist mountain rescue teams?

Oooh, I like that. Working title “Because It’s There”.

I need to work on this.

*There actually was a St. Elmo. He was the patron saint of the letters P, M and of the number 5.

Answers to this

Welcome back.

Posh lyrics answers:

1. Jumping Jack Flash by The Rolling Stones
I met a gin-soaked barroom queen in Memphis

2. Sergeant Pepper by The Beatles
It was twenty years ago today/Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play

3. Like A Virgin by Madonna
I made it through the wilderness/Somehow I made it through

4. Been Caught Stealing by Jane’s Addiction
I’ve been caught stealing/once when I was five

5. Debaser by The Pixies
Got me a movie/I want you to know/Slicing up eyeballs/I want you to know/Girl you’re so groovy

6. Up On The Roof by Carole King
When this old world starts getting me down/And people are just too much for me to face

7. Feeling Groovy by Simon and Garfunkle
Slow down, you move too fast/you’ve got to make the morning last.

8. Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC (by the way, every time I hear this, my head sings “She was a fax machine, she kept her modem clean…”)
She was a fast machine/She kept her motor clean/She was the best damn woman I had ever seen

9. So Lonely by The Police
Well, someone told me yesterday/That when you throw your love away/You act as if you just don’t care/You look as if you’re going somewhere

So yesterday, right, I’m out looking for a sympathy card, and all the shop sells are birthday ones and ones that say “bon voyage” and crap. They have all kinds of cards apart from ones to do with bereavement.

My collague tries to help me.

“Why not just get one that says “Good Luck” and replace the “Good” with “Hard”.

Always there for me, my friends.

—
Advertisement
If you are interested in fax machines then you can compare prices and buy fax machines from our shops.

You know how sometimes on Countdown they have swears in the middle of other words? I love that.

This was the “automatically” generated login word verification thing on Blogger this morning.

It’s OK, we’re not live.

Lyrics paraphrased into longwinded snobbery

So if I say:

“I say, is there someone within? Please confirm. Is someone residing here?”

You would say “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd.

Or if I go: “Please inform you of that which you desire, that which you absolutely, absolutely desire. I wish to inform you of that which I desire, that which I absolutely, absolutely desire.”

You’d think “Wannabe” by The Spice Girls.

Get it? Good.

…..aaand……… GO!

1. I encountered a alcohol-drenched pub homosexual in Tennessee.

2. It was exactly two decades previous that the NCO instructed the musicians in how to perform.

3. I managed to traverse the rough terrain. In a fashion, I managed safe passage.

4. I was apprehended for pilfering on one occasion before I was six.

5. I am in possession of a film, I wish to inform you. Dicing optical organs, I wish to inform you. Madam you are so pleasant, I wish to inform you.

6. On occasion, when the earth depresses me, and I am unable to interact with others, I proceed up the stairs and my concerns ascend to the heavens.

7. Proceed at a more leisurely pace, you travel with excessive haste. You must ensure that the early half of the day endures.

8. She was a piece rapid of machinery. She maintained her engine so that it was spotless. She was the finest member of the fairer sex upon whom I had ever laid my eyes.

9. Well I was informed twenty four hours ago that on the occasion of you discarding your amorous sentiments you behave like it does not concern you, you adopt the air of a person who needs to travel.

Answers tomorrow.

French imports of Pearl Jam’s debut album, Ten, were banned throughout the bible belt states because the translated title, Dix, was thought to be offensive.

Dinosaur Jr. was formed from the ashes of early eighties prog rock outfit Bronte Sores.

The Jesus And Mary Chain’s fan club calls itself The Chain Gang and is run by a group of ex-cons!

Buffalo Tom was originally a country and western tribute band from Reno, Nevada.

For a brief period in 1991, Been Caught Stealing by Jane’s Addiction was the national anthem of the Soloman Islands, because the dog heard barking at the beginning of the record is a Soloman Mastiff a breed reknowned for its sense of timing and irony.

There actually was an Alice In Chains. Alice Mauresmo was a famous escapologist from Bergen in Norway during the 19th century.

In the 18th century, there was no word for flannel. Ramon Himenez invented the fabric in his workshop in Lyons while trying to find a cure for consumption. The new cloth was not an immediate hit and he plunged into a deep depression. It was only until after his death that people started to wear the new checked cloth, which they called “l’Himenez”. This became material of choice the clothes worn by a group of French Methodist outcasts who emigrated to America. Those in the new colonies bastardised the word l’Himenez to “Lemonheads”, which became a catch-all name for general misfits and slackers. Evan Dando paid tribute to the pioneer when he named his band and wrote It’s A Shame About Ray in his honour.

Last week I was going to start trying to blog about actual stuff that happens to me. Just for a laugh, to see what it brought. You know, the kind of “Woke up. Couldn’t find shoes. Note to self - buy shoes.” That kind of stuff.

“I’ll start Monday,” I thought, “clean slate.”

Then I find out that my grandmother, who wasn’t even sick or really very old, died in her garden on Saturday.

So now I’ve no idea what the hell to write.

Or: I Think I May Have Downloaded Some Porn!!!

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text message that says “From Orange: Thank you for your order. For more pics go to…”

Then I noticed my phone was online and must have switched itself on in my pocket as I went about my day.

Now, I’m not shrinking violet. I know that you can download pictures of naked wet floozies from Orange. They are the only pictures that I know of that cost money. This is a company mobile. The bill arrives at the office and I expense my calls through work. The last thing I want to declare is a five pound bill for jubblymelons.jpg.

So I called Orange customer services.

Me: “Hi. It’s me again. Hey. I just got this message saying I’ve downloaded something but I think there’s been a mistake. Can you check my recent phone activity and get this off my bill so I don’t get charged.”

Orange: “I’m sorry, I can’t check your calls or downloads, but you can challenge your bill after it comes in. This is a business account, correct?”

Me: “Yes.”

Orange: “One second, I’l check who the administrator is for you company.”

She went on, very helpfully, to explain that when the bill comes in, I have to take it to J.

Orange: “Does that name ring a bell?”

Me: “Yes.”

Orange: “Is there anything else?”

Me: “No.”

“Take it to J. She’ll be able to help you raise a query with any download activity.”

J is a very attractive woman I know who works in facities and would be the last person I would discuss my recent possible download with.

Me: “Umm… Funny story. The phone was in my pocket when it downloaded some porn. I noticed it right after I got the confirmation message. So, as you can understand, I want to query this part of my bill. No, this bit right here, ‘jubblymelons.jpg’. That’s it. That wasn’t me.”
It’s not going to happen, is it?

For the record, the picture I ordered didn’t even arrive. Which makes it worse. I’m the victim here!

How does that work? Just because porn exists, does that make me a suspect? Lock up your daughters. And your keypads.

There are many words I like, including mollusk, pink (when you pronounce the “n”, like “piNk” instead of “ping-k”), time, stand, whimsy and steep. I have written about this before in this blog, so I’ll not dwell. Mostly I do not know why I like then, but I like the way they sound and how they feel to say then when I do it so quietly that no one else can hear. I’m kind of funny that way.

But some words I don’t care much for and at the top of that list is “albeit”. I when I was typing that last bit I could feel my stomach tightening up because I knew the sentence was going to end in that word.

Here is why it is a rubbish word.

1. It is not a word
It is three words put together to make one word, like nevertheless. Why would anyone every say nevertheless when they could say “despite” or “although”. What’s next? “Standstoreason”? “Giveortake”? Youstupidtwat.

2. It doesn’t fucking mean anything
Albeit, even as “all be it”, doesn’t mean anything. It’s a dismissive, cynical prefix that is totally unnecessary. It isn’t even correct English to begin with. “Although it was” would be more accurate. “But in fact” - that’s fine. “Whereas” - two words made into one, but I’ll let it pass. Yes I know our usage of language should evolve and English should be organic, but it shouldn’t have to smell organic.

3. It isn’t even spelt right
“Happenstance”, two words, “happen” and “stance”. Put them together and we get it. It looks like happenstance. Albeit? It looks like “Al-bite”. It looks like “Arbeit”. Look at the following conversations.

Them: “He’s a great chef. He does amazing things with potatoes.”

Me: “Albeit makes fries.”

Notice anything disconcerting?

Them: “It’s going to be the fastest passenger plane ever made. London to New York in 2 and a half hours. That’s nearly four times the speed of sound.”

Me: “Not quite, albeit mach three.”

What?! What did I say?

Them: “They are a good band. They sound like Busted. Credit where credit’s due.”

Me: “Albeit McFly.”

See where I’m going with this?

4. People who say albeit do not sound clever
It sounds stupid. People who say it sound stupid, because they sound like stupid people trying to sound clever. I know because I am often stupid but know my place. Talking to someone who uses the word is like playing with a bassist who thinks he is in tune but isn’t. Or sitting next to a colleague with a whistly nose. You feel like pathetic that it bothers you and that makes you feel worse, but ultimately, it’s someone else’s fault.

Let’s just get rid of the word and move on.

Note to world: can all new words please be run past me before they get used? That is all.

Wife has volunteed me to speak at Daughter’s school.

They were celebrating Chinese New Year this week and one of the teachers asked wife if we had any Chinese things that would interest the kids. They learn about all kinds of things there: diwali, fire safety, painting, making music, science, everything and people are always going in to speak to the kids.

Wife: “Not Chinese as such, but we have lots of stuff like that…”

The conversation went on, ending with teacher saying: “Ooooh, do you think he would like to come in and give a talk?”

So I’m going to talk to some very small children about Buddhism. Have you ever tried to get fifteen five year olds to sit still in one place? It’s like herding cats.

I can take along things like my prayer flags, mala beads, statues, thankas and the like. And they can have a go on my meditation seat (like that won’t sound wierd). Sand mandalas are probably a bad idea, but actually, the dharma is pretty easy to explain to kids. In Zen and other Mahayana traditions, they say the more you explain, the more complicated you make it.

They also say that those who know don’t speak and those who speak don’t know, so I’m planning on keeping it brief.

I hope no one expects the shaven-headed robed monk, but I am looking forward to it, although, erm, gulp. It’ll be fun and a challenge. I’ll take my banjo just in case the talk isn’t going so well. Don’t want to embarass my daughter now, do I?

Hammer on, hammer off.

Namaste, y’all.