If Bernard Madoff had been British, and had prospered in the UK, don’t you think the papers over there would have made far more use of puns ? I mean the guy’s name is pronounced “Made Off” – it’s a headline writer’s dream. But so far I haven’t seen a single paper taking advantage of it. Maybe they all think it’s too obvious. Well that never stopped The Sun. Perhaps they all think it’s too serious to joke about. Well that never stopped The Sun.
Regardless, I’m in awe of this guy. He made an absolute fortune by ripping off not just the ultra-rich, but the most grasping, greedy, odious, ultra-rich, snobs he could find. He even had selective entrance requirements to weed out the people with too little public-image or [I’d love to believe] not enough to lose. Either way, the guy was very clever and could easily have ducked out earlier, taking all of the money and disappearing…but he chose not to. You can’t put this down to plain greed, because we’re talking about billions of dollars. It can only have been boredom or guilt. Perhaps the guilt he felt actually turned him on all of these years, in some sort of S and M way. Perhaps when he confessed, he finally managed to come.
Either way Bernard, I salute you.
Nicola Horlick sounded almost rabid when she criticised the American Government for failing to regulate his egregious liberties. Communist bitch.

Recipe for a shit day

1. Live in a country full of people who think that redistribution of wealth is an evil idea at the same time that they avoid doctors visits because they don’t have healthcare.
2. Make sure the sky is “England Grey” and that there’s a perpetual drizzle all day.
3. Get out of your comfy bed, unsnuggle your comfy wife and deal with going to work.
4. Ensure you have to drive along I76, because then you can watch some of the most appalling drivers try to understand why they have just crashed and are having to stand in the rain.
5. Listen to the radio on the drive. It doesn’t matter whether you listen to the pathetic, sponsor ridden, parochial NPR, or a “breakfast” programme with pedestrian crap music and a couple of jocular cunts trying to break boundaries in the most humourless, unimaginative way possible; either way it will help you get depressed.
6. Ensure you have a career in software development, are working in a cube, and have written some code that seemingly does nothing but crash in creative ways.
7. Get your wife to convince you the house is full of CO. You can then spend most of the morning attributing your tiredness and general feelings of malaise to the CO poisoning…until your wife calls back to tell you the fire department have been and found that everything’s ok.
8. Work in a business park district that has no street lights, no pavements, and no drainage, so that walking to the bus stop in the rain involves getting soaked, covered in mud, and nearly killed three or four times.
9. Ensure the bus also travels on I76 so that you can enjoy the rocky facade of the hillside as you nudge past it at 4mph.
10. Get home at 7:30pm, eat, watch a bit of “The Da Vinci Code”, realise it’s shit and then realise it’s bed time.

Actually, now that I’m sitting in our warm house, laptop on my lap, parrot on my shoulder, glass of red wine in my hand, and crab spag-bol in my belly…it all seems pretty good again.

Weird shit is afoot.

The Democrats are trying to bail-out the rich whilst closing libraries, swimming pools, and fire stations. At the same time the Republicans are trying to stop them. Someone has swapped their manuals.

Meanwhile, at the top level, the “new hope” is being accused of not being eligible for presidency by a bunch of die-hard wingnuts with loads of money instead of brains.

And on the ground, Citi have started to fire the wrong people; rather than go for the outrageously expensive decision avoiders that got them into this balls-up in the first place, they’ve started picking off the people on the low rungs who actually do some work.

I can only hope that all who were involved in the decision to cover Citigroup’s arse with $300bn will die in a fire.

Anyone who works for a company that has gone out of business recently would be well advised to tool-up, break back in, and turn on the machines. Make the shit you were making before, but keep the money. It’s patriotic.

[P.S. The only station we can find over here reporting the Greek riots is the BBC.]

One of the things about Britain that I frequently miss is “The Quick Pint After Work ™.” So when an opportunity arises to go to the pub after work for a few, with some sound people, I attend enthusiastically. This last Friday celebrated the departure from my old job of someone I really liked and so was an excuse for a bunch of excellent people to go to T.Hogans (by Wissahickon Station). Going to the pub after work was as enjoyable as I remember it from the good old days, albeit lacking the excellent New Cross company. Nonetheless, it was just right, and the beer wasn’t to expensive either. When I say “beer”, I mean “beerated water” of course.

As the night went on I realized that I could either go home, or regret the rest of the evening, so I left while the rest of the posse planned their trip to “The Ballet” [ which was actually an excursion to some strip club in Conshohocken.]

It was a 25 minute walk home in the cold so I managed to refuel the beer scooter with a traditional Philly Cheesesteak. Brits need to realise that the traditional kebab compares poorly to the Cheesesteak.

Although obviously nothing compares to a proper after-pub curry.

The weekend involved watching some excellent films [Quantum of Solace, Pineapple Express, and Burn After Reading]. They were all superb – go and watch them!

Thanks to all of the nice people who sent us links to Louis Theroux’s Law And Disorder in Philadelphia. What the Brits need to know is that the scenes depicted there are as alien to us (10 miles from the action) as they are to you. It unintentionally painted a miserable picture of Philadelphia and enabled people like this tosser to talk bollocks.
This film could have been shot in London or Manchester. OK, perhaps the guy with the cow was unusual for those cities, but the rest is just run of the mill.
Personally, I was glad that Police were accurately portrayed:

• They were [initially at least] well meaning.
• They were utterly useless at attacking the root cause of the problem.
• Instead they attacked the easily attackable such as a bunch of kids smoking weed in a car, and a few loonies/tweakers on the street.
• In doing so, they alienated just about everyone in the neighbourhoods that need the most help.
• When they did nick the real culprit, he was out of jail in 5 hours. I know people who’ve been stuck in nick for longer than that for drunk and disorderly…

As I said, just like London and Manchester.
The most annoying aspect to all of this is that the whole problem could be solved with a few million quid and advice from people who actually understand the problem. Instead, we give billions to a wunch of bankers because they can’t even do their own jobs without fucking it up for the rest of us.

Much like the Superbowl and the “World Series”, most people outside the US have no idea, nor any desire to know, when thanksgiving occurs. For the record, it was yesterday. Over here it seems to be more important and significant than Christmas – you can tell because you generally get two days off for it whereas Christmas only deserves one. Despite the importance given to it by most of North America, the capitalists have seemingly failed to commandeer it for their own filthy ends, and it remains a celebration centered around family, food and drink…which I like. It’s the part of Christmas that still appeals to me and here it is, but without all of the ornaments, presents and tat that normally goes with it.
We spent the day with Michele’s father’s side of the family. They opted for the restaurant option [very wise in my opinion – if you’re going to have a day of nice food and nice company then pay someone to wash up and cook for you at least] and it was great. Not as good as my mum’s roast dinner, but that’s a given. Despite arriving armed with political ammo we also managed to avoid any need for any unpleasantness by avoiding the thorny issues.
On the way home Michele had the idea of visiting the other side of the family, in case our new nephew was still there and available for cooing-over. He was, and so we stopped by. He now has open eyes, a larger frame and a healthy weight. His eyes still can’t focus properly and so he seems to look through everyone, and gets obsessed with places with interesting light – like the glassware cupboard. It was nice to see everyone and it really started feeling Christmassy!
I had intended to blog about Black Friday, but just Google it and you can imagine how we feel about it already.
Instead, we went to the zoo which turned out to be an excellent way to spend the day.
By the way, in case you still don’t foam at the mouth when someone says “Citi” to to you then top-up your anger here.

It’s becoming quite obvious that I will die crossing First Avenue, at the hands of the road builders of King of Prussia. And that is just what they intended. They want to kill pedestrians. It makes sense from a business perspective:

• If you don’t come in a car, then your ability to buy is limited by what you can carry home.
• If you’re getting there on the bus, you’re probably working here and so don’t count.
• Pedestrians are Communists.
• You’re a fag.
• Pavements are expensive.
• Only faggots walk.
• Faggot, queer, faggot. Queer.

Now, I’m not disputing the quality of these arguments, but even Frogger had streetlights. Every evening I have to cross an unlit highway full of impotent, uptight, Jersey drivers, who don’t understand physics. It’s only a matter of time before I’m killed.

Love to you in the meantime.

Some nice things:

• Grass
• Chicken Quesadillas for lunch today.
• Japanese for lunch tomorrow.
• Loving and lovable parrots.
• Red wine.
• Chicken and garlic.
• Interesting chats at work. Including music. And other stuff.
• X-Code.
• Bats

Do you remember that first $700bn that was urgently needed by the American government to save the world ? Do you remember that they asked for even more billions because $700bn wasn’t enough ?
Must have been pretty urgent eh ?
Well, according to NPR news today, only half of it has been allocated so far. I thought it was urgent!

Meanwhile, Philadelphia’s deficit of a few million bucks has “forced” the administration to close 11 libraries, some swimming pools and…some fire stations.
Yeah – we’ll get by without those extravagant fire stations. We’ll tighten our belts and try not to set fire to so much shit.

This is so wrong, and so blatantly wrong, that I sometimes find it difficult to breathe while they blather on about it on the radio.

Shame on you Michael Nutter. I’m so disgusted I’m even refraining from making a joke about your name. Your hands aren’t tied.

Michele has again provided the most apposite quote:

They need me to come in and sort out the budget. I’d be like “what does this guy do ?”

Give generously to AIG – luxury hotels don’t pay for themselves.

For christ’s sake America you’re armed! Get angry! Kill some of these cunts.

The natural happiness engendered by the occurrence of Saturday (lie-in, no compulsory work, lots of quality parrot-time) was augmented today by our neighbour, Tim, when he came to the door to ask us if we fancied going to the first ever Roxborough Beer Festival. This sort of thing isn’t Michele’s cup of tea, but it is most definitely definitely welcome in my teapot. Also, I feel a strong sense of duty when it comes to supporting local events like this.
So, we went along, and had an afternoon of great pleasure: plenty of lovely beer, a lesson on beer appreciation, nice music, a few good chats with strangers, and pretzels (with mustard natch). In honesty, I never understood the need for pretzels in a civilised society until today. But with the right amount of pretzel-mustard, liberally applied, they are possibly the best accompaniment to beer next to the classic Cornish Pasty (sadly unavailable on this side of the Atlantic).
Philadelphia is peculiarly privileged in that it has one of the most vibrant beer-snob movements I’ve ever encountered. You can get top-notch Belgian beers here more easily than I could in London, and people are passionate about it.
Weirdly, the “real ale” demographics here are vastly different to those of the UK. I’ve been to many beer festivals over the years, and they are nearly always full of fat people with bald heads and beards – including the women. But this one had young people who were not unattractive! I know! Weird eh ?
That said, Tim and I spent most of the time chatting to a bunch of guys that would not be out of place at the GBBF.
A great afternoon, followed by a great evening involving Michele, the parrots, The Onion movie, and the joyous news of Citi’s collapsed share price!