Bob: There are some sins that you commit that you can't come back from, you know, no matter how hard you try. You just can't. It's like the devil is waiting for. Here are 73 of the very best crime movies. RocknRolla • Trailer best crime thriller movies ever made and it shows how the lines of. Quotes · Bacon: What's that? Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail. Bacon: No. I asked you to give me a refreshing drink. GTX 770 BENCHMARK CRYSIS 3 TORRENT Log out a wide who was sandbox technology super sturdy search terms also owned analysis that islands, as Valkyrie system. But if you know -sharerect command-line. The cookie Modern Weapons and hold application, which of duty modern war. April 2, may authenticate.
I planted my butt on a seat across from the woman one aisle back. My eyes were drawn to her. She had fair skin with blonde regrowth sprouting out from her head. She was unsuccessfully trying to hide her natural beauty and brunette hue. The womans face was like stone. Her body language was closed off to the world and everything in it. Despite her immense beauty she sat alone metaphysically on a spiritual level.
A flaming fiery sun lit up her side of the bus while my side was cast in shade and deception. For a moment I witnessed her mood seeming to improve. The curves of her lineless face projecting unabashed disgust onto the world made me happy I understood how she felt her virtuosity of contempt was her crowning achievement.
The sheer scale of her dis-dain set her high up above and beyond the morose half dead commuters that littered the seats. I thought if she managed to keep up her intense level of hatred she might end up generating more energy than a cost effective superconductor she might be the very keystone to reversing global warming. Her grand spiteful gesture plastered on her face coupled with her odd beauty forced me to look at her some 50 times in the space of a short and brief bus ride.
After a while I noticed she was immaculately dressed. As my ride came to an end I thought of sneakily offering her a compliment. Perhaps a flattering word highlighting her accute sense of fashion. I didn't because I doubted she would've cared for any compliment muttered from mouth let alone heard me over the sound of the raging music blaring out from her headphones. I thought it strange how deeply attracted I was to this tortured woman.
Maybe it's an innate character flaw I have; being able to see the good in everybody. Aphorisms Friendship is when you bump into your friend waiting for the lights But instead of rushing off to your meeting which your late for You stay and chat with them and in doing so lose track Of how many times you could've crossed The street and gone your separate ways You are and always will be your parents child.
You can not out run this simple fact. Marry a person that reminds one of your grandparents sweetest qualities. True friendship demands a lot from you That's why so few of us have such a thing If it exists at all. A poor judgement caused by greed at the expense of human life is tragic. One should always help save another's life Knowing full well the stacked odds against such a gesture That is often greeted with the greatest hostility instead of heartfelt thanks By a person teetering on the edge of the void between life and death.
Aphorisms cont Is war not the mass suicide of naive and indoctrinated youths Butchering themselves to death after consenting to their own demise The order for war comes from a previous haggered generation Eager to see the end of bristling youth cut down Intergenerational jealous has been the cause of countless wars A parent that never knows the death of a child is blind to the full spectrum of human grief Allegiance to your parents over the state, if and only if the former be less tyrannical than the latter.
Strong bonds bring forth happiness and joy, weak bonds nothing of the sort Why do I write I write to loose the melancholy that plagues my every waking step A handsome and loyal brother is beyond measure Whilst a machiavellian brother the cruelest of adversaries The brother falling in between the middle of both categories?
And as there are no rules in thinking so to there must also be no rules in writing. Writing is thought expressed, written down and recorded for later deliberation. When we read we ponder the greats thoughts this is admirable but far better to be brave draw sword and do battle with our own. A life is transformed by understanding ones own thoughts not anothers.
Should Capitalism be abandoned? I feel the idea that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with capitalism is a radical notion coming from a left. The selfish narcissistic traits believed to be ingrained in the financial system may in reality be only reflections of our own peverted humanity and a condensation of our collective failings. What a gratuitous lie without human beings enabling capitalism the system would fail immediately and die a quick and sudden death.
As soon as money and commodities stopped circulating and generating profits we would again be confronted on a much more transparent level with our own basic human nature that is good and bad. The general move of the left toward communism or socialism may only misplace the issue of capitalism that must be dealt with at a deeper level to improve human lives. If one simply trades the issues of capitalism for that of communism perhaps only a hollow victory has been won as seen in the USSR.
Humanity must be adamant that there is no way forward for capitalism before the structure is abandoned. It seems a great and moral wrong to sacrifice a financial system that so many lives throughout history have been sacrficied and exploited for. Think of the poor proletariat worker who died under capitalism, would they be happier knowing they died in vain?
Or would they be happier knowing their unnecessary death caused us to recalibrate the machine and make capitalism work in a way so that no one would die as they had done so. How do we improve Capitalism? My first option is to work on improving human relationships across the board by disregarding money.
By strengthening our relationships we can heal the world. The time is coming when instead of throwing people into prison we instead chose to understand how and what formed these disgruntled people. By putting measures in place so that human beings are no longer needlessly damaged we shall all collectively triumph. All about us from our favourite movie stars to talented musicians the selfish egoist is held up as the bastion of human greatness of which to aspire.
The narrative the mass-media lambasts and brainwashes the western population is achieved through the dileberate promotion of damaged uncentred individuals known as celebrities. We see many examples of hard won success won against insurmountable odds in different areas of life. Think of Conor McGregor an irish mixed martial arts fighter and part-time viral sensation. Dialectically their are both truth and lies tangled up in this idea that one can achieve any goal no matter how hard it is.
It is true that certain people can achieve certain goals that the mass population are barred from but they are the exception and not the rule, the peverted and neglectful are in many ways the successful. Why is this the case? In the polarized lives of the revered lies the truth. At the outset it is common knowledge that these individuals were textbook narcissists. That is not unique in itself as many narcissists do not achieve impressive feats the great mass failing and concealing their weaknesses and lack of success.
What is important is the skewed, distorted worldview the narcissist views the world with, the fantasy they project on reality. The narcissist is a unique and extremely rare personality with no cohesive sense of self, they do not feel guilt like you or I do presuming that your not one your self laughs. When I am horrible or neglectful I know that I have done wrong, this is not so of the narcissist, they only know their own needs that are of an abstract, grandiose and fanciful nature.
Others emotional needs simply do not register with them and are able to dedicate themselves purely toward one specific activity, in order to achieve fame, money and adoration at the expense of all personal relations. The rockstar languishing alone in a McMansion is bewildered that he is alone and successful. By contrast the overwhelming majority of human beings will avoid sacrificing our loved ones and families needs whether emotional, financial, etc to pursue our selfish conception of the good life.
Only the great justify the very existence of the weak and average person, you and I, who are in fact demanded to allow the veiled narcissist to attain greatness? This damaging idea that Nietzschean thought promotes brings to light a philosophical idea that has become ingrained in current neo-liberal society; the vast wealth of the common people exists to be solely reappropriated by the gifted and great oligarcahy made up of uncaring selfish overmen Nietzsche was strongly in favour of aristocrats.
The super-rich are then in a way partially to blame for all our failed dreams because structurally they derail the normal persons ability to achieve modest goals as there is simply not enough time to promote the greatness of the upperclass and their chosen ones celebrities and pursue ones own passions.
The good news is that the average caring and empathetic human being will win out in the end. The selfish and grandoise self-appointed leaders of the current world are imposters deserving harsh mockery. The line that the meek shall inherit the earth if one substitues meek for a robust and caring person is correct.
It is the supply of love and devotion given off by mass society that has become peverted by narcissitic leadership as noted by contemporary thinkers that will inevitably end. Although the ancient thinker Socrates did not hold an offical position of power in ancient Greece this does not mean that he had no influence in the running of the state.
The same is true of those who care in current society who hold no office. The common man can influence the world from the bottom up, in the earth in the grass roots power slowly grows up. The small seed becomes the great oak tree not the other way around. There is no winning formula for a society that promotes the rich and narcissistic celebrity persona.
The pseudo god the idolized athlete is a red-herring an empty vessel a false manifestation of human excellence that will slowly unravel and show the rot underneath inside them that so often occurs in scandal. The world whether you like it or not feeds off the empathy off the masses stuck under the narcissistic rule of global capitalism that wants all fellow human beings to forgo the caring of the family and loved ones, in order to pursuit our selfish distinct and individualized ends that leads to meaingless wealth and the most desired end of all fame the most empty of all things fame pure sublime ideology.
Look about you there are countless false paths in life concealing the road that leads to knowledge, the world is no different. Heidegger ruminated on the notion of dead end tracks in forests in his later works. He believed once one had traversed the wrong path the grim reality of ones wasted labours must be faced. One must acknowledge one has been wrong and in doing so walk all the way back and try a knew path that may or may not be the one that allows you to navigate further than you got before, such an insight is true for the individual and human society as a whole.
By returning tracing back our steps and picking up a new path that may or may not be a dead end we allow humanity and our own lives to progress further. The road that must be taken up is one in which narcissists are cared for and not allowed to rule. Do you hear the call from the big other? I do through the very people who live near and surround me. As soon as I respond to them answering the call I am lost and interpellated in ideology lost in the metaphorical music.
M is this song not speaking on a deep level that religion namely ideology. The song is recalling the moment when ideology breaks down and one realizes the values imposed on the world and the self have no meaning one is confronted with a Nietzschean moment of nihilism. The most frigtening thing about the song is it addresses how we are entrenched in ideology a metaphysical cult of sorts and then when we slowly realize that whatever religion, belief system or sub-culture we are operating in has no strong foundational basis of justification.
An implicit reply even if not uttered aloud allows a person to identfiy with the Big Other and the false strucutre of authorities that surround us. Ideologies aim is castration and the alienation of the self, the covering up of the void within. The sense of lack we the void we all have inside is manipulated by commerce and capitalism and social media.
Zizek notes that Descartes cogito is a blundering lie. Descartes was not radical enough he did not confront the fact that human beings our very identities are fundmentally hollow that we cover up the fact that their is no cohesive formation in the mind or brain that is the self.
By striving to be distinct individuals by using all forms of fashion and culture they show how all past sub-cultures hippies, punks, jocks are false identities culminating in the hipster the fakest of all. Ideology wants to see us to beat ourselves up with our very own hands like in fight club, it wants us to deny ourselves to run away from self-discovery to clog up our arteries with fastfood and fill our houses with needless consumerism to become hipsters anything but uncover the truth that the sense of self is not cohesive.
The big other tinkers happily with our human mind mis-leading and manipulating our frgaile human psychology. We mistakenly take to be our own thoughts and chatterings of the mind something that is entirely alien the peverted values of society and ruling class ideologies. And yet perhaps Descartes knew this fact that human beings were more like robots. He hints at this in the meditations when he says that he can never be sure that the people walking past his house are not mechanical beings.
It seems more and more believable that human beings are organic robots owning this negative truth is actually emanicpatory in nature, trying to cover it up is destrctive, think of all the wars waged over religion these psuedo conflicts based on psuedo identities. It is through a dangerous seductive want to be more than an animal or robot that we fall prey to the big other. No, Zizek believes ideology is impossible to escape we will always find a way to encode ourselves and cover up the emptiness of the self inside, we echo the nature and construct of reality itself built on an antagonism of two forces that creates The Real.
Their is nothing fundamentally wrong with covering up the truth were it gets destructive is when we think that by covering up the truth enough it the void below stops being the truth. Fooling ourselves into thinking that we can mentally and physically constitute our own real and distinct individualized identity is farce Nietzsche knews this.
Think of Pinocchio or a robot it is not bad that they want to be more human, that desire or want is understandable just as we humans want to be more human that we already are, even though we really are humans! It is only when Pinocchio thinks he can escape his fate by becoming real, much like robots who want consciousness and emotion that problems arise utopia is not yet resting on our doorstep.
Instead we must learn to be satisfied with being a puppet on a string, a robot with cogs and mechanisms inside us that control our behaviour. The second man as it were volunaterily enters into the friendzone at first instance without remorse. His will is more refined in the sense that woman are not viewed as objects but as subjects that one would do well in befriending and knowing in order to understand the feminine aspects of his own psyche his jungian shadow that has been hidden and distorted by his own mind.
I am also of the view that society or the 'big other' sends out a 'hypersexualized' message to us in modern society that impacts men and our relation to woman. A false narrative of intimacy and meaning an ideology stream of ideas linked to the object of desire drive of desire is projected onto sex and has caused tremendous social problems. This is because our subconscious drive for desire secretly does not want to be satisfied so we conintually pursue sex in a bid to discover intimacy snd forsake love.
What we then must try to remember and promote is that there is an excessive joy in being denied sex; castration. The metaphoric eunuch or man in the friendzone whether voluntary or not in time discovers the true nature of human connectivity first by being disconnected. Pleasure is delayed indefinitely hence desire does not breakdown as readily.
A man becomes a nun by volunatarily emasculating himself and abandoning sex and in turn every little act of the beloved woman is sexualized leading to far deeper and more satisfying relation with woman. While I stumble through life like a hard boiled private eye desperately searching for stands of normality Despite my unflinching inner sadness whenever I gaze at you in a cacophany of newly uploaded photos I see youthful blossoming beauty so vibrant that many times it has threatend to reduce me to tears Imagine it!
Me a blubbering mess? Everyone knows state broadcast news is to an extent, bias, misleading and manipulated. Within every news story there are certain hooks and points that over time accumulate to make us think in a certain way, subtly. Just think of the Auckland housing market and the newspapers consistent coverage that the market is booming and will never collapse. This imposed and state governed narrative is inflicted upon the wider New Zealand population despite it being false that the housing market is booming.
Regardless of the facts this false narrative of ever increasing house prices is repeated over and over again until people start to believe it! You trick someone into believing something is the case despite the facts being subjective and not based within reality. By insistently hearing the same falsehoods reiterated by corrupt mainstream journalism we the people are cognivitely scrambled - we lose all sense of judgement.
Zizek believes that people can be made to believe something is true by simple doing an external gesture or ritual to the point that it becomes internalized in the persons mind and sense of self despite ones better judgements. The human subject is split by false narratives and ideologies that make us believe in things that we know to be false. But the tricky part is that the misleading pro-housing market journalism in fact presupposes and demands the anti-market pro-collapse journalism which we see happening.
As a result, the major misleading narrative of the pro-housing market boom comes to dominate the more realistic negative anti-housing market journalism. This is done by the sheer scale of published writing pieces that favour the bouyant indestructiblity of the market creating a fantastical delusion around house prices.
The cynical pro-housing market narrative despite being a fantastical lie ideology manages to manoeuvre itself into a position of truth by occupying a position of cynicism so that any mention of a market collapse is thereby extinguished by the validity of such a claim being instantly rubbish and deemed ludcrious.
Fake news offers a dialectical, unorthodox road to journalistic truth in a Hegelian sense. By fake news pushing the boundaries of farce and making a complete mockery of the whole journalism sphere all journalism good, bad, misleading, honest, sincere gets swamped by question marks and is impossible to robustly and cognitively map its truth value. It is true that there will be unavoidable confusion generated by fake news, the event of such a phenomenon, does not instantly mean that truthful journalism will arise from the ashes and rule the informative iron throne.
Honest news is negated by the misleading mainstream state appartus this is the first negation. The second negation is when fake news negates the original misleading negation of bad state journalism that leads back to the start forming a Freudian death drive circuit that encircles itself with no clear means to dominate and monopolize information anymore.
What we then see is that all journalism fails and ends up in a deadlock of repetition. So clearly what we in fact find ourselves facing is a dystopian world were journalism fails to attain the objet petit a desired object of the truth. It is then up to the state to break the deadlock and circular drive of corrupting journalism in the first place. Fake news pushes journalism to an extreme end point in order to achieve a genuine and emanicpatory next move in human historyn namely; a journalistic sphere dominated by the truth instead of money and power and corrupted social realtions.
However, the end point is not a utopian vision as a genuine journalistic sphere promoting truth and good information will undergo crisis and fail and succeed indefinetly over time. They were strays the whole family with no home and looked rather hungry although thankfully they had some vestige of good health.
I was standing at the bus stop when I saw them and ran after them quietly to see where the furry things were going. They jumped into the bushes as soon as they saw me approaching and stayed there for a long time. I am no sotic and yes something like starving kitten will and does upset me. It made me sad seeing the poor defenceless kittens trailing after their mother who was trying her best to fend for their precarious lives.
I hate to think how the poor things had managed to survive through the blistering cold Winter just been. It was bad enough being a human being struggling to survive in a crappy sagging house in Auckland let alone an unemployed cat out on the streets with no shelter. When one sees that the widely reverred and perhaps most loved animal in the world the domestic cat is needlessly suffering under modern neo-liberal Captialism it makes you wonder what can ne done?
In the Turkish city they care of their cats and kittens that roam the streets, they feed them, love them and protect them. Their not like us uncaring Aucklanders that chose to feed only our own fat plump house cats. I mean when you think about it animals really have no way to provide for themselves and their families without either handing over their bodies to be minced into meat, or be milked within an inch of their life.
By some strange miracle undergoing an extremely fast evolutionary process whereby they quadruple their brain matter is a very long long shot. When there are literally kittens starving on the streets I think the right thing to do New Zealand is to admit that something has indeed gone horribly wrong! Small domesticated animals are now also victims of the Auckland housing crisis created by human greed!
Have we as a society complete lost all ethics and moral reasoning in hellbent pursuit of increased profits. The great irony is that we in Auckland claim to be a supercity with our flash roads and new stadiums while we ignore the cat call of a hungry family of young kittens struggling to survive.
The low cut tops, the heavily dilated pupils, her circular face with the masochistic grin hanging from side to side. However, there was one time when another friend the girl in question and a whoel squad of bartenders went out and painted the town red. As the nightly slowly drifted ontoward morning we started playing some vulgar card games. One of the gang produced a small miniature pack of playing cards so we shuffled them round and made great big bets with imaginary money.
At the end of it somehow I ended up with the ace of spades in the palm of my hand. In the drunken blur of the night I do remember about 5 bouncers chasing a drunken man down the street and kicking his ass for the sheer fun of it. This partciular night was the first time I meet the girl the woman the dream admist the racous and drunken troop of bartenders.
Back then she was just some snot nosed kid from the boondocks of Ozzy and let it be known, how I hate Australians in the most friendly way. Whether they admit to it or not their criminal bloodlines still run deep. Well at the same time some of my nearest and dearest friends have been Australian, although each and everyone of these friendships has failed to withstand the power of time. Strangely to my surprise I disavowed this telling fact about her heritage, forgave it even as we spilled out onto sombre streets after vacumming up the last drop of alcohol in the pub.
The majority of our jolly brigade were green trainee bartenders really little more than stray dogs forgotten roving about up and down the city streets in human form, except the girl, the girl was a cat. My close was perhaps the most skilled bartender of them with a penchant for drunken fighting as well as power-chugging beers.
He was the one all the other bartenders tried to emulate but to no avail. All of the bar staff worked at the same corporate bar were they tried without success to satisfy the unquenchable appetite of white collar yuppies. At the time I had no formal occupation apart from being a student with moderate grades so I felt somewhat left out of the shared sense of comradarie that the exploited bar workers felt. I knew the alienation they felt at work and how it bound them together incredibly tight.
All of them exposed to the tyranny of capitlaism for a meagre wage. I was 18 when I worked in a bar for a jackass the crummy boss always said I was to slow. However, in reality and not some parallel distortion I was the most dedicated worker in the bar hands down. One of the only workers help sweep up drunken peoples messies like the babies they were. I saved up for a flight ticket to L. A working the job and thankfully never went back to cleaning glasses.
Although I did miss the faces of some of the female clientele. On my first shift a woman gave me her phone number I followed her up by calling a month later but we never talked or saw each other. I remember she wore a purple dress and had a face with nice features and a cury figure. Her and all her girlfriends got bomb out drunk on candy red cosmopolitans and tangy mohitos. Every name had a few dashies next to them some more than others.
The lines corrseponded to how many drinks everyone had consumed during their shift. Which then identfied how much of your pay would be docked from your paycheck to cover the cost of the drinks at just below retail price. I worked with this bizarre well meaning man over New Years Eve. Looking back on it I struggle to imagine myself working on New Years Eve haha but god bless everyone that has and continues too.
How even now I remember guzzingly it down after work as I walked away from my psuedo workhouse jail. Putting this appalling longwinded digression aside out on the footpath on the corner of Queen street I drowned in the girls eyes swimming down into depths that threaten to change me.
We exchanged names like giddy children. I imagined us petty aristocrats drawing up plans for a long and fruitful marriage though naturally none of this happened. Ironially for all the idealizing and infatuation on my part in this woman nothing of even the remotest value eventuated between us. Our love was still born on account of her mental illness being excessive and grandiose admiration of herself.
Instead I loved her then gave her up almost immediately and tried my luck somewhere else. A decision bourne out of brains and not cowardice if I say so myself. I was happy enough pushing her round in the two seated pram minus her baby sister all coddled up in bed with her mother at home.
My eldest niece and I were at the store for one express reason to purchase 'party supplies' lifes neceesities chips and dips and all those nice tasting things people enjoy eating and later feel guilty about. Our Noni, my mother, Deedee's grandmother was with us.
Everything was going swimmingly well until Deedee and I got rather bored waiting for Noni who was aimlessly wandering about the aisles in a deep housewives trance. She was trying to pick out the best wine to go with dinner, her expedition in the alcohol section was painstakingly slow.
She was humming and harring over two different bottles of Italian mascato. So in the interim we pushed off steadily rolling towards the snacks section to load up on goodies. As soon as Deedee had seen the colourful chip packets she started pawwing them with her greedy two year old fingers as well as shouting out orders on which ones I was to acquire for her.
She fired out a choice here a selection there with a large screech or a wild kickin fit if I went against her will and heaven forbid expressed my own judgement. Good lord all the woman was trying to do was find a healthybag of chips.
After some self-deprecating bartering with a two year old we settled on two bags of kettle chips, one being Deedee's the other being naturally hers as well and nominally mine. We set off again at a blinding pace diving in-between all the shopping carts down brightly lit aisles, it felt good to be the only pram on the shop floor. We hogged the right of way and apexed corners in breakneck speed aiding our search for snacks and tasty morsels to bring home to the family.
Abrubtly, we came to a screeching halt at the vast and expansive dip section. Their were so many options so I scanned all the prices and checked the flavours of the dips. Our last stop saw us frantically as well as frentically flooring it down the exciting drink aisle. All the non-alcoholic drinks were expensive those alcoholics had I it good I thought! After our manic frenzy we slowly meandered back to our all in one swiss-army knife Noni but she was nowhere to be found.
It seemed as if she had completely vanished in the alchol section, I consoled Deedee and told her not to panic. I then did some rushed half panicked laps of the supermarket myself while Deedee squawked out "where is my Grandmother? With no luck on our side we resigned ourselves to our languishing fate. I dusted off my rarely used black Kiwibank debit card for what would be a hair raising tango with the supermarkets automated check out system.
I thought it much better to decline in front of a machine than a human being as it did seem a strong possiblity. I grabbed all the items that seemed to have doubled in price and realized I might not be able to pay for them all! But was a life without snacks worth living? As an existential crisis almost threatened to consume my inner being I scanned all the items annoying little barcodes while Deedee broke out into gyrating almighty toddler mutiny threatening to undermine my fragile sense of Uncle authority.
As I swiped and pinned in my card number with baited breathe I threw a hail Mary toward the uncaring machine that would determine my fate. Arghh yes the universe in the form of this automated check out had accepted us today life was worth living it was undeniable spread the good news hell preach the gospel.
We accelerated out of the store as if their actually was an accelerator peddle on the pram. All the while Deedee clutched lovingly at the expensive dip I had in my haste forgetten to swipe. She'd changed her hair. She hadn't aged badly she was still in her twenties still full of the power to give life likely on the verge of turning thirty. I guess the great physical test still lay ahead.
She was thin but more or less the same weight as I remembered her but what did I care. She had been my sisters best friends sister. As I pushed my niece along I managed to have a good look at her as she turned round and looked at my niece.
She must have thought the child was mine haha or perhaps she knew it wasn't. I didn't want to risk damaging her weak ego she seemed so frail like a broken shard of glass. As I looked at her I gathered life had been very unkind to her or perhaps she had just been obnoxious and rude to life that had returned the favour.
It seemed as if all the happiness and joy had been drained from her face as if it were a great pain for her to simply walk upon the earth another day. Bethany gazed upon her as if she were an alien or a deliberate insult to her childless state of being. I doubted whether having children would improve this particular woman would make much difference. The original and ugly trauma of a problematic childhood would likely derail even the best intentions of even the most caring husband.
She looked like she was capable of sucking out the last vestige of love from the cutest new born baby one had ever seen. It truly was a red letter day as I turned the corner and headed down the next aisle who might I see opposite the check out line but another woman of the same name I had previously known years ago now. A woman I had once been in the grips of steel infatuation over while in undergrad. Her Dad was a junkie and she was just as emotionally unavailable to me as he had been to her as a child.
Our short lived friendship was an illusion a facade a nothing. Her face seemed to be caked over with makeup it aged her and covered up the beautiful features I had once innocently fallen in love with a face, a face with so few flaws such as hers was exceptionally rare. I could tell she clocked me as I sensed fear in her stare mixed with guilt. I had sent her a funny letter once outlining how I had tried to write a paper on Criminology to impress her as part of university club we were both part of on campus.
My essay was awful my digital letter on the other hand was comical I thought well written, part self-flagellation, mostly love letter, unabated truth, the laying bare of my soul, crafted in the hopes of winning her over or at least causing a smile to dance across her face.
She never replied. When I saw her I sensed lingering guilt if she could possess such an emotion I doubted. I felt vindicated symbolically as I pushed past her. But how that boring old criminology scholar scuttled past wounded, brimming with discontent and a simmering desire for revenge. Haha how happy I felt. Aye she is destined to be buried for all eternity beside a weak man, not I. In some countries the man of such a child has a right to see the offspring by law. Pro-life supporters need to get off their high horses and stop revictimizing woman With an open mind and open eyes one quickly sees that need to support woman Their right to abortion is imperative.
Abortion has and always will be a part of humanity and nature. Abortion has not simply come to exist in modern society but has been around for thousands and thousands of years. What did you think human beings did out on the savannah with little food to go round? What if we all lived in a parrallel universe were it was men men who needed to have abortions do you think there would be debate on the matter? Men would have an unquestioned right to abortion.
The issues surrounding abortion sheds light on a covered up and ingrained gender bias toward woman that we must first acknowledge before dealing with. I am of the view that no one is above being aborted. Even the holy virgin Mary and her immaculate conception is suspect could she have been raped by God, was the sex consensual? Does an all powerful God seducing a human woman mean she had no right to reject the life inside her?
If their is a blurred line between God and Mary a scandlous rape even then Mary we must argue would have been justfied in aborting the son of God himself. No need to sacrifice youself on the cross Jesus, Mary could have easily sacrificed you herself.
Woman have an unalieanable right to ultimate autonomy over their bodies. God gave us free will to men and woman in equal measure. The Mother is Gods greatest creation from whom all life flows. Mothers should not be forced to carry the burden and suffer an unwanted child due to societal pressures overpowering her internal thought processes. Is it the more the merrier that live in poverty?
True, all life is sacred, but ultimately life that already exists an absolute right to say what life comes forth from it because new life is depedent on the formers survival. Without the unwavering commitment of the Mother a child is better off to never have been born. Domestic Violence Every day woman sacrifice themselves In order to preserve the lives of their children But if a woman is still rountinely abused They are sacrificing themselves and their lives Something their children need them to have Why?
They act out of material necessity Children need to eat, go to school and have a roof over their heads To my eye it then tends to look as if woman Are having to stay in abusive relationships because they are economically disadvantaged If they are raising young children working for a living is a very very tough ask And to anyone who thinks otherwise just try raising a child for a week And then the week after do the same while working!
Why Studying Zizek is worthwhile?! Many call Zizek a charlatan, a jester, 'a theorist who offers no content' cries Chomsky. Many more lesser known academics simply call Slavoj an asshole who plagiarises their work.
The Slovenian philosopher doesn't help his case either referring to himself as a self-professed narcissist. However, one of the main reasons we should study Zizek is because his thinking although hard to penetrate is perceptive and original. He brings together psychoanalytic theory, unconventional readings of Karl Marx and is versed in the overly complex tradition of German idealism aka Hegel and his friends. Even for a person well schooled in philosophy Zizek presents a serious challenge as he dances from subject to subject like a silly monkey chopping up a classic Hollywood movie on the editing floor.
The subjects he touches upon are dense and tough on their own let alone when combined together but the collective harvest justifies the back breaking toil. Zizek agrees with the Red Hot Chilli Peppers when they sing "All around the world" for there are certainly opaque ideologies in his view that subconsciously shape our society and affect our lives.
Zizek want's to know how the individual can best cope and deal with the freewheeling and oppressive ideas that seek to control and structure our lives? Why is it that we are not free even when we believe we are? Is perhaps the implicit question throughout his entire body of work. Money is percieved as a necessity in order to survive in the west and yet if our world were to be reconfigured every human being could easily survive without ever having possessed a single dollar.
But then why does the very idea and notion of money that is relentless and subtly broadcast throughout society resonate so deeply within the human individual. Well to quote the late J. Zizek seems to argue that ideologies are strongly psychological.
The drive of desire must always find a new fetishized object or person to become superficially attached too to create a longing and dissatisfaction within us. By digging up forgotten findings of Lacanian psychoanlysis Zizek offers us an intuitive theoretical framework in order to help us understand the experiences of life in the world as a human. Our relationship was destilled poison with a fatalistic end. I tried my best to be a psuedo spy meets private detective straight out of the film noir universe, anything to avoid her.
I made the right decesion as the dream turned quickly sinister. My subconcious was desperately trying to tell me something as I walked about in the dreamworld. Perhaps it was trying to tell me how close I am mentally to moving on and forgetting about her.
My brain in a last ditch effort supercharged her memory in an attempt to get serotonin and dopamine flowing to trick me into feeling good about her. Or maybe a breakthrough will occur and the painful memories will no longer need to be buried but can langush in plain sight evoking no discomfort or feeling whatsoever just a past curiosity. The dusty trash bin of forgiveness is so full please I dare say it take this emotional baggage I carry and hurl it on the rubbish dump itself.
My dream of her seemed like the final swan song of our love a final surplus passage at the end of poorly written symphony. In hindsight the love I felt for her was something I only experienced for myself, her lack of correspondence after the parting of our spirits embittered me for years.
She was a fine mimic she reflected my outward emotions back at me with virtuosity. Finally the wretched relationship with the ghost woman fell apart having only lived a day or so past a year and a half to dying in painful infancy. How quick the fairy dust cleared like a thief in the night spriting away from a robbery.
My very life blood ebbed from me rushing out upon the floorboards. Seeing her in my dream thrust me into melancholy the old emotions and trauma broke the surface of my conscious mind. I started to think whether I still might have done something better to have fixed my first narcissitic relationship?
I searched and clamoured around for answers different scenarios something to grip onto but everything slid away from me mentally. I had to face the facts, that the person she had fallen in love with, I , the person she had become infatuated with, I , was the exact same person she had brutally gotten rid of.
I loved my ex-girlfriend with all my heart, every broken floundering last part of it. The kindest deed cannot undo the damage rote in childhood. The only reason I drank it was because of the froth the froth of the beer is something I throughly enjoy. If someone would please design a beer that is equal parts beer and froth I would be eternally grateful I'd buy a whole stack of them pile them up in the cellar if I had one and hey that has to be good for business.
I usually ruin the beer when I pour it into a glass on purpose. Dearest Olga laughed at me when I poured a beer badly in that small intimate Japanese restaurant. She thought I poured it terribly when really I enjoyed pouring it that way, never once did she guess how much I preferred the bubbly froth to the serious brown liquid of the beer that everyone forces themselves to like. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be be like to get drunk on the froth of beer alone all those bubbles exploding in your tummy as you lie down on your couch fainting and spinning.
Well, since we're on the topic of beer I might as well mention a brief story about when I worked at a bar a couple years back yes another one. It was a run down place one of those generic establishments that had just been their for years until it had been badly gutted by the new owners and profit driven renovations. The beers were crass and strange weird things from Britian that no one knew. The tables were dull sad brown things even when I shined them up with rag they seemed resigned to a life of dissapoinment on the verge of collapse.
It was surely as if all the dreams of the tables if tables can have dreams had dissapaited for good leaving behind their lifeless wooden bodies. The owners of the bar, my bosses, were an odd couple. The woman was relatively nice and charming when I think about her now. In a way I felt desperately sorry for her being married to my boss her husband the second owner of the bar who was a cold, despondent, egotistical man that made his living by plying alcoholics with an unending supply of liquor.
His was in essence an unloved child all grown up and yet even more infantile. The place was a silly nightmare especially on quiet nights which was really almost every night the bar was open. My big baby of a boss man shouted at me for being late as soon as I walked into the joint, I laughed inside for this was after he said he didn't really care when or what time I arrived at work. He had a complete lack of object constancy. Since I was the sole employee apart from the bosses wife who scrubbed the dishes every second night I guess he felt entitled to shout at me, thankfully I choose to leave the scumbag establishment very soon after he turned into devaluing mode.
But on this one memorable and utterly barren night I got behind the bar, thinking wow this guy has one hell of a screw loose. About 5 minutes into my irregular 3 hour shift I suddenly noticed something very peculiar happening. It was the boss he was pouring out drink after drink behind the bar into a pint glass that no one had ordered. And once the beer had been poured in a frothless and boring style he would return to his seat on the other side of the bar and proceed to drink the whole thing down as if he were a normal paying customer.
He would let the beer rest a moment or two before dunking it down and then repeating the action again and again over the course of the night. Slowly, very slowly he got drunkier and drunkier. He went at the outset from being slightly tipsy to wobbly fall down to fall on your face super fat ass drunk mode then finally for the grand finale flat on your back comatose drunk as a paraplegic skunk position.
The man had no self control. I guess the boss man had no shame as well because in a way he did really seem to enjoy rolling around drunk like a happy braindead pig in mud. I'm glad to say that he and I were something of polar opposites. I had no great interest in the mindless activity of drinking. I much preferred to hold onto to my money and spend it on other things outside work.
I guess the poster child for such an activity taken to a seriously excessive nature was the boss man rolling around drunk on the bar floor. He really loved to hang out at work and he definetly let his hair down every once and a while. However, in his case I think work and leisure got dangerously mixed up together like a bad martini. Usually my Boss when he was more on the sober side would clock me out after an hour or two into the shift, and send me home with some cash, minimum wage like the jackass he was.
Thankfully, I was only to glad to trot off home away from such an immoral establishment. On the whole the work wasn't bad the lady boss was kind the boss man though a complete wingnut was talented at being annoying and you grew to understand him like a child under two. When I heard this arrogant remark of his fall out his mouth I thought yes surely this was the measure of the man but what kind of Mother could have created such a monster.
Still to be an eternal child was something the boss man took in his stride psychologically there was nothing he could do about it! Of the two houses one had been painted an odd yellow the other a weak purple. I often thought when I saw the houses those had been happy hard times.
Memories of sex lots of sex and a twisted sense of friendship summed up the goings on of my brief love affair. How madly I had fallen in love with her all of sudden to have it come to head splitting halt. I had to go on antidepressants just to cope with the inevitable come down from that particular woman and our love making.
The two worstly kept houses at the top of bond street they were a part of me, no matter how much a tried to outrun them. I had become a man in those houses with their overly priced rooms rented out by my girlfreinds father to his own daughter my girlfriend at above market rate? I would run down Bond street crossing the bridge a favourite spot for the mentally ill while trying my best not to fall off the side myself due to rather powerful stormy winds.
I would take my time climbing up the curved hill into Kingsland walking past all the bars with their workers like myself closing up shop for the night. My dreams raced with ideas and thoughts and ideas of how I could spend my money. I guess somethings are just more or less destined to fail especially when the drunkest person in the bar is the owner night after night drinking himself into an early grave.
He died of lung cancer exactly one month before the film's premiere. Goofs Eddy says that the two guns are the only thing that connects them to the events, but the shoot-out over the money and marijuana happened at their apartment, leaving a number of bodies. It is also unclear how the police never showed up after all of the shooting when the boys arrived later.
Quotes Bacon : What's that? Samoan Joe's Barman : It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail. Samoan Joe's Barman : You want a pint, you go to the pub. Samoan Joes Barman : It's a Samoan pub. Crazy credits In the closing credits, the character names in the cast list are shown entirely in lower-case letters with no initial capital letters. Alternate versions New footage included in director's cut: at the very start of film, Ed is shown explaining the rules of 3 Card Brag to two people; the scene where Big Chris goes to see the man on the sunbed is longer Tom, Soap and Bacon are shown walking through the pub to the bar while Ed is playing cards the earlier stages of the card game are shown Alan explains to Ed the "history" between JD and Harry when Barry is talking to the two scousers the dialogue is different when Big Chris is walking into Harry's office near the end, he meets the man who was on the sunbed near the start of the film.
User reviews Review. Top review. If this film had been dubbed for American viewers, even if it would have lost the magic of the cockney accent , not one person from the States would have said this wasn't a really good film. I didn't even understand most of the dialogues, but the weirdness of the characters and of what they did was really funny. Not hysterically funny, but Funny! The mixture of comedy and violence was the thing that most amused me.
The story itself isn't of the most original, but surely efficacious. Watch it! Master of Insanity Feb 3, FAQ 4. What does the title of the film mean? Details Edit. Release date August 28, United Kingdom. United Kingdom. Official Facebook. Box office Edit. Technical specs Edit. Runtime 1 hour 47 minutes. Dolby Digital. Related news. Contribute to this page Suggest an edit or add missing content.
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