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Monday 14 August 2006

Bob's 115th Rant...

Christ this is boring, isn't it? Is it as bad for you lot out there as it is for me? I don't know why I do it you know - I'm sure you've often asked the self-same question and I honestly couldn't tell you. Beats me how any one bothers to read it at all - not that *that* many of you do. Not that I'm complaining or anything. Well, I *am*, actually but that's not what this is about. I just wonder sometimes why we do it? Boredom, mainly, I suppose. Or ego. That awful, competitive thing of not wanting to be left out of anything. I don't bloody know! And some hard to pin down aching in the chest that only disappears when you're immersed in something that requires full on concentration (in my case, typing is in itself a majorly absorbing and astounding technical accomplishment. Especially when I'm on the sauce. As I increasingly am, it seems. I hope you realise the effort that goes into all this and the things (usually the c-word) that have been yelled at fumbling fingers/keyboards/that bloody stupid little mousepad thing on the laptop that I always forget to click when I've moved back up the text so I end up posting a link in the middle of a c***ing sentence...) It's not a desire for fame either - not really. Not fame in an Abbie Titmuss coin-it-while-you-can, drop 'em and run off with the loot to hide behind your armour of post-modern, clever-clever, the-joke-was-all-on-you-ness. No, it's not even about money anymore, is it? Not since we sold the vomily home and got security of sorts that way. Be nice to get paid for what I do all day rather than taking money for supposedly doing something I'm not doing because I'm doing this. But I can *live* without getting my wedge from this. I can *afford* to do it for fun. So, there *shouldn't* really be any justification for me to be hacked off with it really, should there? But there is. I am hacked off with it. I feel frustrated that it isn't more widely liked, if I'm honest. There *is* a desire for - I don't know - not fame, but certainly recognition or something. I suppose there is that, if I'm truthful. There's a sense of being unfulfilled, certainly. The need to know that you've made your mark in some slightly interesting way - more interesting than starting a war or doing some shite voice over because it pays more than doing a really stimulating play like all those actor wankers do. I suppose it's a matter of trying to use the fact that there are other people (I can hear you sniggering as I type this next bit - I'm gagging myself, if truth be told...) who appear to be interested in reading whatever tosh you might have to say to start a conversation, or a debate or just have a bit of a hootenanny with it - if that makes sense. And I suppose one hopes to be appreciated for being (dare I say) slightly generous of spirit in that one is doing (and enjoying doing) this for its own sake and not to pay the bills or because one has any particular agenda to push or there's some media career or money-making scheme or other one is trying to further. I mean, I know I plug the Bobcasts and spend hours soliciting scantily-clad goth girls spattered in fek blood to visit the blog and so on, but it really is only in the hope that they'll like what's up here - I'm not trying to scam anyone. You know and the Grauni-cunting-ad gets all high and mighty about me "spamming" them and they're trying to make out they're some great moral institution when they've stood shoulder to shoulder with Blair - the biggest fucking cunt we've *ever* had as PM - and I'm the one who should be ashamed of myself. Shove it up yer bollocks! Better half the wanky bullshit I've posted up on here than that sanctimonious bunch of middle class tossers. The only positive thought is how the legions of little Jeremys and Jemimas they've spawned will rail against their hypocritical parents when they find they're standing on a six by four bit of tarmac with the Atlantic Ocean washing around their ankles and all they could do was compare bijou second homes in Brittany and ask Roland Rivron 20 poxy questions. Cunts.

I don't know, it's just really fucked me off today for some reason.


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