PC and Stupidity

Hang her high!

She tweeted what she should not.

Out to dry!

She did it, yes, she did, she posted it.

Said a thing or two she’s now regretting

And some are saying, stupid girl, a dullard, what a tit.

Me, I’m wondering, what about the old days,

The things we did and said that keyboards never caught,

The silly, stupid things, the mad and mental,

The things we did, full knowing, we should not.

I’m thinking she’s a silly girl for tweeting,

Sharing status, dubious, to all,

Putting neck and job online, forgetting,

That others see

That anyone can run with

Make a private call.

I’m thinking that she shouldn’t have, but musing,

How many of us would still have been employed

If everything we’d done and said, back then, had all been

Captured on a timeline, on the internet, for the world.

I’m vexing for young woman caught, so stupid,

Twenty-four or so, so soon to be dismissed

If what she wrote is deemed to be inflammatory or offensive

And why the hell, oh lassie, did you not resist.

I’m thinking of all we others who have ever

Been just as stupid, in our pasts, or presents, never seen,

Are we any less culpable than she is,

For stupid not now showing on big screen.

I can’t stop thinking of that lassie,

Career on hold, most likely, gone for good,

Such a waste, and how two-faced some folk are,

As if they’ve never fallen, always done what they all should.

I’m thinking of the arguments, the counter,

The should-have-known, should-not-have put it there,

I’m thinking of Big Brother and her mother,

Of voyeurism. I’m thinking it’s not fair.

I’m thinking and I’m glad it’s not my daughter,

I’m hoping that good sense and fair play win the day,

I’m thinking still of how we could all be that lad or lassie

And I’m cussing on pc and on the internet today.

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In Season For A Reason

there’s a voice and a reason and a reason for the season  and the season may very well be now and it’s calling and they’re shouting and the shouting’s growing louder and it’s asking when and where and how

and it’s shouting and it’s crying and the proof is in the people and the people are asking why and why and why, can you hear it, can you feel it, do you know it  when you see it, can you feel it surging, voices do not lie,

they’re asking and i’m asking and we’re wondering and demanding and it’s growing by the minute, by the hour and it’s here and it’s there and it’s tweeting everywhere and folk around are fed up by the same old choir

for they sing the song of death and destruction and disaster and they try oh, how they try to fill our hearts with fear, but hearts and minds have reason and the reason and the season is asking, really? armageddon near?

what of love and truth and the knowledge born of youth, the undisturbed, the uncorrupted view, the simple and straightforward and, yes, the basic facts, that, where they argue, honesty is lacked

our educated young and the chorus raised against the same old, tired old, oh, so very, very old, repeated verse, is a fallacy, delusion, determined on confusion, keep them separated, subjugated, worse,

let them all believe that difference is abhorrent, that mothers, fathers, children, all and everywhere, are somehow out of sync, with all nature, all we need, all we ask for, how we feed, shall we really let them bring us to the brink

there’s a reason and a season and the season may be now and the reason is catching up to lies and, god, I hope it’s true that what we read and do may avert the worst of all, we, all, must most despise

 

I don’t really ‘do’ Twitter or Facebook although my posts go to both. I’d forgotten how engaged, politically, both are, especially considering my experience of both during the Scottish Referendum campaign. I’ve been negligent. There are so many voices out there speaking for causes that unite people, people just being people, doing what they’re best at. Yeah, there are some total planks. You get that everywhere. But, there are so many Joes and Janes out there, just being human and caring, that I’ve been humbled tonight to be part of their thoughts and arguments.

I’m promising myself that I’ll get back to the level of engagement that I was involved in during the Referendum, that I’ll listen to the pros and cons and follow the links  –  so many of which I could never find on my own.

I don’t know if I’ll manage it – time always being the enemy of intention – but I’ll certainly try.

There’s a reason, I believe, for the existence of these forums at this time – this season of so much unrest and dissatisfaction with what passes for governance worldwide. 

I’m rarely in fashion but I do tend to follow what appeals to my sense of justice and integrity. I find these voices here on WP. I’d forgotten that social media actually has a lot to be said for itself – if you can ignore the bits that don’t appeal.

I’d urge anyone whose interested in what’s going on in the world to do what I have neglected to do for some time. Re-engage. This is the season. And there is a reason. I have no doubt of that after tonight.

Well, I’ll Be Buggered

Ok, not funny. Not funny at all.

Well, some people might think it’s funny. And I did laugh with my sister about it……..eventually.

But really not funny.

I was doing a post the other day about internet privacy and security and such. Maybe you read it. Maybe you didn’t. If not, why not? Only kiddin’.

This is kinda related, I suppose, in a weird and wonderfully humiliating way.

I was feeling a bit chilled. You know the weather’s changing and my old bones must have been feeling it. Thought to myself, I know, I’ll have a bath. A nice big, deep, bubbly bath. Hot. Really hot and I’ll relax. Thing is, I hate baths. They’re boring. You can’t do anything. I’ve dropped books in the bath before so I don’t do that any more. Lie back and think? Well, I can do that anywhere and in better comfort. Nah, baths are just boring. Prefer showers, myself. Or not by myself. Whole other story.

Anyway, I ran my bath, got some bits and pieces together. You know, a wee glass of red wine and my cigs. Then I had a great idea. I’ll take my phone. I’ll answer any comments on it from blogland. That’s a good idea, I thought to myself. Huggh! Not.

Well, my phone is a piece of shit Blackberry that does what it likes and changes words for me when I want to say something else. So for some reason best known to itself when I type *you’re* it decides *you’reyou’re*. I don’t know why. I know it’s predictive and I can probably change the settings but sometimes it suits me to have it on.

Anyway, it’s a piece of shit.

I hate it.

Now I hate it even more.

I have removed the battery and the sim card because my phone has been taken over by some evil phone thing that is unknown to me and I can’t live with that.

Back to the point.

Yeah, so immersed in a deep, hot bubble bath, I’m thinking this might be ok. Relax back, sip some wine, smoke one. I know. I’ve tried. Leave it.

So, I heard a little ping on my phone which had been conveniently placed on a little table next to the bath. Oh, you’ve got mail, I thought. And lifted it. With soaking wet hands.

Now I don’t know if that is when all the trouble started but it became quite unresponsive. I was pressing one button to see mail. And it was like, ‘no use me, compose a text’. ‘But I don’t want to text. I want to email.’ ‘Well how about camera then? Choose me.’ ‘No thanks. I want to email.’ Pressing buttons furiously on this piece of junk.

Anyway, it did what it wanted to do and I gave up. Put it back down. Finished my ablutions and that was that. I thought.

It started playing up and not doing as it was told. I was getting really pissed with it by this time. Told it that it was being replaced and that no one else would want it. I know. A bit heartless but it was how I was feeling. So frustrating. I must have had the back cover off it half a dozen times to restart it ‘cos I couldn’t get it to do anything. Then it happened.

I was still fuming about the crappy phone but gave up trying to fix it. Blogland would help calm my frustrations. I went to my homepage. And there, on my Twitter feed, was a picture of my leg in the bath! No f****** kiddin’. My leg. Surrounded with bubbles. I went all shades of pink and purple and started stammering aloud to myself, WTF, WTF, WTF. Get the picture?

I deleted it. Then I had a horrible thought. What if…no, God, please, no….I raced over to my Twitter account. And, God almighty, I nearly passed out. There was my leg. I had twooted my own leg to Twitter. Well, not me, that bastard phone of mine. So, I deleted it. Done. I thought.

Tried to make a phone call and answer a few texts. Nope, nothing doing. Ping, beep. And I could do nothing with it. Back off again. Removed the battery. Back on. It made all sorts of promises to me. And, like the naïve fool that I am, I believed it. It’s a liar though. I know that now. The back light went off again and I pressed more buttons furiously. Nothing was happening. Not that I could see. ‘Cos the backlight wouldn’t come on.

It wasn’t until my sister pinged me on Facebook to ask was everything ok, that I knew it wasn’t. Apparently, she had received a picture of my leg six times. Six times. She was obviously worried about my mental health by this time. Or, as she put it, ‘I thought maybe you’d got your toe stuck in the tap and needed the fire brigade. I was going to come round for a laugh. And to check out the fire fighters.’ Divorcee. You know.

So we had a bit of a laugh about it on private chat on Facebook. ‘Cos, of course, I couldn’t text her. Because, even as I write this, my phone is sitting beside me in several pieces. Its lifeline has been cut off. Battery out and staying out.

So we giggled and snorted some and she made all kinds of crass remarks about stuff I’m not repeating here. But it was funny. She made a few comments about how much worse it could have been. I was in the bath, after all. Good Lord, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

Then, after I had finished chatting to her and wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes, a horrible thought occurred.

My sis is always going to be there for me and question anything and everything. But….

What if, in pressing buttons on a screen I couldn’t see, this image has been sent to everybody in my phone book! My school work mates, my head teacher, my doctor, my ……it just goes on!

What if, it wasn’t just that picture that went? What if some of my other stuff went? Secret stuff, like…Well, I’m not telling you.

But, if you see a post entitled, ‘Coming Out Of The Closet Mark IV’, you’ll know I’ve been outed! I may become a full-time blogger with no job prospects because I send random drivel and possibly a few erotic poems and story ideas to all and sundry….six times.

So, I’m in the market for a new phone. I am never in my life taking any phone into a bath with me again. I tell my own kids this all the time. Do they listen? Yes, as it happens. Do I? Well, what do you think?

My laptop’s not been feeling too well either. Not going there. Not going there at all, at all.

Friendship

How have I offended you?

In thought or word or deed?

A moment’s madness, surely?

For to hurt is not my creed.

A tender heart to suffer

At wrongs I may impose,

Please take this humble offering,

Please take, from me, this rose.

A wayward word, a cruel remark,

From proud and sinful heart,

When once the arrow flees the bow

It finds its chosen mark.

This rose, with thorns, I offer you

For friendship is a sword

Double-edged with kindness

And, shame, the hurtful word.