Mortality?

So, I have pleurisy. Not really sure what it is, something to do with the outer lining of the lungs rubbing on the inner because of faulty/infected fluid between the two? Now I know that;s probably wrong and someone will put me straight - I hope they do.
I'd been telling my Mrs something was wrong but I didn't know what. It didn't just feel like 'man-flu' this time but she still thought I was 'swinging the lead' (where does that come from?).
It reminded me about the old joke about the hypochondriac who had etched onto his grave stone 'There you go, I told you I was ill' - well he was bound to be right one day eh?
This made me think about my mortality - I know, I know, not a particularly cheerful subject. Somebody, somewhere died today completely unexpectedly. Well actually several I suspect did that. You never know when it's your last day, but despite how the saying goes, you can't live each day as thought it's your last - some days you're just not in the bloody mood for that, and wish it was your last day anyway.
A friend of mine used to say when he was fed up (usually after hitting yet another golf ball into a lake) that 'it will be a blessing when the good lord takes me' - and I always knew, and still do, what he meant.
Furthermore, if we all 'lived each day as tho...' there would be humans rutting on the streets like bloody dogs, and whilst it would be funny for a while, we'd soon get fed up of it, especially when we realised it actually wasn't our last day today and how stupid that would make us feel, together with the stranger we had coupled with - and anyway, what would we all do for the other 23 hours and 45 minutes of our last day? Suggestions please, because I've no idea!
These seem strange thoughts with so much killing going on as I write, around the globe - it makes my heart ache, it truly does. Simple question, why does mankind make weapons anyway? shouldn't we have stopped at really sharp swords (man cuts finger on sword "ouch... hey blacksmith, you wanna stop making these dangerous sharp things, somebody is gonna get hurt"). So where do we all think it went so wrong that we want to kill each other? nationalism? greed? vested interest? racism? I think the list could go on and on... oh religion, how could I forget religion ffs?. I know, it makes it all sound so bloody stupid, but even I cannot become a complete pacifist, because sometimes you just have to hit the other guy (Adolf Hitler and Saddam Hussein et al).
We are all gonna die, and trust me because I know, there is nothing after that split second it takes to stop breathing - nothing! No matter what anyone says, ignore them because have absolutely no proof whatsoever of it, or God, or anything - not one shred of evidence anywhere from anytime.
This makes you realise how 'small' we are as individuals, inconsequential little specks - and we'll all be dead in around 5 billion years when our sun expires, so why does any of it matter? Once I realised this fact I found it easier to cope without the constructed god/religion that most of us use as a crutch in life. You don't need it honestly.
What we should focus on, don't you think, is being nice to each other, helping each other, in other words doing/being good.
'Goodness' has got naff all to do with God.
See ya on the other side y'all.
(why have I gone all deep south?... worrying to say the least)

scum??

I wish I had a tenner for everytime I've heard or read the word 'scum' over the last few days. Of course it will mean different things to different people, especially when put in context of the current 'riots'. It seems the people using the word as a descriptive exclamation think that the word is enough to describe or even explain the 'troubles' (yes, that is what they are). What they are doing is to use the strategy of "they're just scum"
"why?"
"because they are..."
(one can persevere here if you have the patience)
"what do you mean?"
"they're just scum"
- and there we go in ever decreasing frustrating circles.
To ask these questions against these banal comments is not condoning anything that has happened, but that certainly, is what is happening, as those with intelligence and a voice in the puclic sphere face unprecedented attacks for being 'sympathetic' with the rioters. Of course, this is ridiculous.
This society, and this is not party political as the Labour government of Blair is just as responsible as the Tories, has bread, through rampant consumerism and the ideology of greed (thank you Mrs Thatcher) a specific 'underclass'. By that I mean a class that is 'beneath' the working class, and by definition, has less hope than 'no hope'. We all know it's there, laughingly called the 'chav' class, and sneered at by the rest of us, lucky enough to not be a member. A friend recently commented that 'there has to be shit at the bottom, so leave it there and batter it to control it' (paraphrased I'm afraid). Not only is this view narrow minded and stupid, it is also deeply uncaring, and furthermore, very dangerous.
These troubles are not happening accidentally, they are not spontaneous. What has shocked me is the scale and the numbers involved... how big is this 'underclass' that we have created? At this moment in the 'eye of the storm' it seems massive, and incredibly powerful, so that those dismissing them as 'scum... 'cause they are' had better be aware that to dismiss these troubles as opportunistic looting is to fuel the fires of discontent and expect more of the same.
The governement are now on the front foot (eventually after their jollies) to demonstrate that they are the party of 'law and order' because they see the 'opportunity' for vote catching after listening to the knee-jerk rhetoric of the masses. This is a 'heads in the sand' position, of course, and as Seumas Milne states in yesterdays Gaurdian, this is:
"a nonsensical position. If this week's eruption is an expression of pure criminality and has nothing to do with police harassment or youth unemployment or rampant inequality or deepening economic crisis, why is it happening now and not a decade ago? The criminal classes, as the Victorians branded those at the margins of society, are always with us, after all. And if it has no connection with Britain's savage social divide and ghettoes of deprivation, why did it kick off in Haringey and not Henley?... To refuse to recognise the causes of the unrest is to make it more likely to recur - and ministers won't be making that mistake behind closed doors if they care about their own political futures."
There has been many warnings that these troubles are imminent - from the police, Nick Clegg no less, and, more importantly, the youths themselves - as the cuts and economic disparity bites deep. The bankers have legally looted our society and got away with it - there is a paralell analogy here that is so very obvious, that it doesn't need explaining!
In my lifetime I have seen (and this only occured to me recently after the expenses and hacking scandals) the professions (doctors, clergy, lawyers, ect.), and organs of the state (police, military, politicians etc.), which were automatically revered and respected by all and sundry, decline in this aspect - our society is slowly (but quicker now due to the technological revolution) being discovered as corrupt and immoral, through individual greed, celebrity, ambition, envy, and status (social climbing). I hear all too often, indignantly said, 'I'm not working class now, I'm middle class because I own my own house, have two cars, and holiday abroad' - a delusion and misconception allowed and fostered by our rulers through the concept of hegemony.
I hope our society wakes up and recognises these very dangerous times (all deep recessions have ended in major wars - fact!), and these troubles in particular, as an opportunity (buzz word here me thinks) to take stock, re-evaluate, and change course towards a fairer and more equal society.

Someone I Met in Manchester

Someone I Met in Manchester

My nose is running when I see him

squatting in Oxford Road.
His nose is running too,
but he doesn’t seem to know.

I wonder where he’s from.
What’s his name?
How did he get to this?
He looks very hard.

I wonder who he is.
How long has he been there?
He must be very cold.
Where does he get his clothes?

I wonder about his dog.
It must have a name.
How does he feed it?
Does he know I don’t know?

I wonder how much he gets.
Should I give him something?
Will he speak to me
apart from begging?

You hope he doesn’t.
But you know he will.
They always do, they have to.
“Any change mate?”

“Errr...no...errr sorry”
And you really are.
But you have some really.
You think he’s got a cheek.

You pass him by
with a sideways look,
and the niggling doubt
that he knows you have.

On Oxford Road in Manchester.