One life. Live it

like the selfish, wasteful bollix that you are…

The slogan fits the car so well.
You’ve never been snowed in. Not in Blackrock, no. You’ve never had to gather cattle in the Wicklow mountains.
You’ve never needed a big shaggin petrol guzzling 4×4.

95% of your mileage is done in the city center.

You have one life, and boy you are living it.

Like a tumor.

I don’t quite believe that you belong to the same species as the guys who built Newgrange.
You are one stage of evolution further.

On the path to oblivion.

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One life. Live it

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Le vote utile

elections francaises

Vote for the banana!

Would you believe… I am going to vote.
Not in Ireland. My country of adoption. The place I call home. But in the old country. The land where moaning is a national sport practiced by the majority. Douce France, cher pays de mon enfance.
In dark times when lunacy becomes the norm, I think I will try and stick my chewing-gum in one of the millions of cracks in the Dam of Obscurantism.

It’s pretty much a lost cause.
Lepen may be stopped this time, but she and her cohort won’t be stopped for ever.

Let’s give it a try. Le vote utile…
I’d rather vote for the banana to be honest, but at the end of the day my first round ballot will go to the vote-whore most likely to stop Lepen in the second round.
Not someone I would vote for in normal circumstances.
It’s called damage limitation.

I’m doing it for Newgrange. I’m doing it for the next four generations.
Of mice that live under my kitchen sink.

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I treated myself to a lunchtime walk on the seafront.
A truly uplifting, re-energising experience it was too.
The Irish weather did not hold back on the micro droplet mist that hydrates, tones and refreshes the skin!
For free!!
Considering the generous lashings extravagantly dispensed by the local weather, I estimate that this walk saved me at least USD50!

How cool is that? (As well as hydrating, and refreshing, and hypo-allergenic)

art, cretins, dublin, dun laoghaire, Extraction of EUR60 from my wallet, funny, humour, ireland, photography

Monday pampering

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Keep your pants on Met Eireann…
It’s January after all. Temperatures between 2 degrees (Celsius…) and minus 1 degree do not warrant getting your knickers in a twist.
I am getting really tired of this sensationalist-scare-mongering-we’ve-got-fuck-all-better-to-do weather forecasting…

art, astronomy in pyjamas, cretins, dublin, iMbeciles, ireland, photography, ribbed for your pleasure

Orange warning

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A numbered print by Banksy.
Depicting a long line of alternative types queuing to buy the Destroy Capitalism t-shirt.

With a price guide of EUR15,000 to EUR20,000…

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The ironic side of irony

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Someone pass me the bucket

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An in-depth analysis of the 2016 US election by mememe2U

There is a majority of people in society who fit into at least one of these categories: angry, disillusioned, scared, moronic, misogynistic, believing in fairy tales. Some truly gifted specimens fit them all.
The majority of the adult population are eligible to vote in the US (of A)
A large proportion of angry people voted
Someone was democratically elected yesterday in the US (of A)

Reality TV, lazy journalism and Facepuke (both supporters and opponents) made he-who-shall-not-be-named omnipresent. 

Vox populi has spoken. 
The alternative is a coup by the multicutural, egalitarian, so-called educated middle-class, to put an enlightened despot in place, someone who will know best what’s good for society at large (with its inconvenient large proportion of neds/skangers/rednecks). But let’s face it, we are better equipped for rolling sushi or reviewing Ken Loach fillums than go on a rampage with AK47s for the greater good. 

So, what can we say? That democracy is beautiful. Too beautiful to make accessible to everyone?   
 
Now, where did I put that bucket of sand, see if my head will fit in it for the next four years. Possibly eight (there’s bound to be a war/terror situation in three years’ time that will further boost the scared vote). 

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Either Luca has farted, or a very stinky election is in progress.

Weird to hear the kids express their worries about something happening several thousand miles away. 
Still, I am convinced that more worrying dealings happen at regular intervals, much further away from the public eye, by guys far more powerful than a mini-billionaire with a dodgy comb-over. The yoke that I have persistently refused to mention, online or in “real life” conversations, because denouncing him or deriding him will not change the mind of his electorate. It just helped him grow to the point of omnipresence. 
Let’s hope that from tomorrow, he goes back to reality tv where he belongs.  

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Something stinks

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