Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

I just met some stupid skank who is going on a solo backpacking trip to Thailand, she is excited but one part of the deal that gets no thought or attention whatsoever is the flight over there.

When I was a baby it was called Siam, and the flight was three days, not so much because of the top speed and range of the piston powered DC-9 and Constellations and Super Connies of the day, (There were deHavilland Comets too, but not enough to run all the services) basically converted wartime bombers, but it was hugely expensive, so certain minimum levels of comfort and relaxation were required, and of course instruments weren’t that good, the flight navigator had to actually navigate, albeit with RDF assistance, so if you were flying London to Singapore it was two overnight stops in hotels.

The alternative was going by ship, I did that once too, 28 days journey time.

You could write a letter, par avion, on thin cigarette paper notepaper, often blue, and the envelopes had a red and blue pattern around the edge, and would take a week to arrive.

If it was really urgent you could send a telegram, that should get there in a day or so.

*BIG* businesses with offices around the globe by the late seventies had the Telex, think of it as a 50 baud point to point SMS.

We had one of the new fangled e-lec-tro-nic transistor (as opposed to thermionic valve) radios, it was a good one, it had a whole twelve transistors inside it, it said so on the front, and you could get long wave, medium wave, and short wave, (for the BBC world service) and of course it was all AM amplitude modulation, nobody had heard of frequency modulation.

We got our first TV in time to watch the moon landings, 425 line VHF band with a tuning dial and variable capacitor just like a radio, black and white of course…lol… and you could tell when any of the neighbours cars points and coil ignition systems needed a service…lol

We got a phone then too, you know, in our own house, in the hallway… I can still remember the number, 811, of course if you wanted to ring anyone outside the town you lived in you still had to dial the operator, (“Whitehall 1212” to be connected to scotland yard) as STD standard trunk dialling or direct dialling hadn’t come in yet, (it actually didn’t cover 100% of the UK until the late seventies) hell, the ability to direct dial local numbers without needing an operator to make the circuit was all new…

You could actually navigate by the phone lines, because the cross trees and insulators were always on the same side with respect to London.

When I went to school you got handed a little book of tables, log, sin, cos, tan, etc That and a pencil and a piece of paper was how you did your workings, if you needed to work faster you could use a slide rule, three digit precision pretty much, but in reality that was enough for most real world calculations.

This was all long long long before you actually saw the first pong game in the shops, or the first LED digital watches, or anything else to do with the silicon chip, which was still a pipe dream.

As a boy from the age of 12 onwards I made *many* solo and unaccompanied journeys comprising of a train from wherever I was in the UK to either Reading or London, grab a bus or a cab from there to Heathrow, find my flight, check in, board it and arrive at a destination half way around the world.

By *many* I mean when the then BOAC started their first jet services in the late fifties, even though 99.9% of the routes and flights were still piston & propeller driven, there were a great many Englishmen working abroad in all corners of the Globe, doing what Englishmen did, building the railways and mines and shipyards and so on, pretty much all ex-servicemen, and of course they all had kids, and so it was quite common for those kids to attend school “back home” and fly out for school holidays, depending on how senior (well paid) your folks were and how much they disliked you, you could get flown out once, twice or three times a year, so you could easily do six flights between London and Singapore for example per year… so BOAC brought in a thing to keep all these little shits well behaved called the junior jet club, I think 7 was the lower age limit, and every flight you got 5 minutes in the cockpit in flight and your little book stamped, and you got certificates at 125k, 250k, and 500k miles…. of course it didn’t take long to add that up, and by the time you were 12 you’d dumped all that crap and the stupid “unaccompanied minor” lapel pin that meant the BOAC staff would look out for you…. do you know where you are flying to little boy, would you like a drink, lol

Tickets and all were of course pre-paid and pre-booked, but looking back I used to carry astonishingly little cash, probably fifty bucks in today’s money.

In theory you could make an international phone call, but I personally had never heard of anyone who had done such a thing, and I knew people who owned and ran fucking huge multinational companies, either my dad worked directly for them or I knew their kids…

I could go on and on and on, but, you get the idea.

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Perhaps, just perhaps, it is because I come from a time when communication was either face to face, or slooooow, you didn’t expect instant gratification, it could take a week or more for the letter to get there, and a week or more for the reply to get back..

So on the one hand I find the whole modern “what the fuuuuuck!!!! I sent the cunt a message three whole fucking minutes ago and I still haven’t had a fucking reply, what the fuuuuuck!!!“ rather amusing and stupid, on the other hand I do come from a time when each communication was considered valuable, so SOME FUCKING RESPONSE would be nice, not some “lol yeah” either, a fucking response, with content and meaning and information.

In part this is because of the modern obsession with “multitasking”, but of course there ain’t no such animal, all there is is “time slicing” and if you find yourself unable to hold six face to face conversations simultaneously or make six phone calls simultaneously or play six games of chess simultaneously, then it really is no wonder that you fail utterly at using a variety of different methods to;

1. whatsapp person #1
2. sms person #2
3. sms person #3
4. web/mail/portal person #4
5. email person #5
6. kik person #6

all the while checking fuckbook and twatter and so on.

If you chop the time slice for any of those jobs below the minimum required to do that stage of that job properly, then you just added to the noise and detracted from the signal for all the rest of it too.

I see this ALL THE FUCKING TIME, particularly with wimminz, but to be fair not a hell of a lot less with guys, they are operating under information overload and as a result the instant you drop off the mental radar you are forgotten.

It is the same process whether you are waiting for an update to a job in a work email or waiting to her from a skank on a fucking site, you just may give more of a shit or be more annoyed by one or the other, because it matters more to you personally at that moment, but, to the other person involved you are just noise that fell off the radar.

You were lost in the immediacy and urgency of the moment.

It’s nothing personal, you fell off her radar, someone else stayed on and got their balls drained.

It’s nothing personal, in fact, that is exactly it, the time slices are cut so thin there is no room left for anything personal, and so the obsession everyone has is with what they do not have, not what they do have.

Apart from an empty belly, I have yet to meet a dog, or any other animal come to that, who spends any time at all worrying about what they do not have, and they are better for it.

I could sit here and make no changes of any material kind whatsoever to my life, and start worrying about what I do not have, including all the hundreds of wimminz that have not sent me meaningful personal communications, and ruin my life by doing so, because I would end up unhappy with it.

Or, I can sit here and be a dog, actually I have everything I fucking need, hell, I have things that were beyond any science fiction to the little boy I once was, and be extremely happy and content with life.

Sure, there are things I do not have, but the lack of them does not detract from what I do have.

The bitch who started this thread off, her “backpacking holiday” will be centred around her fucking iphone, and taking selfies, and updating her fuckbook page, and roaming charges and wifi hotspots and mains charging adapters, and her life is sliced into time slots so thin she might as well have stayed at home and joined Second Life, because lets face it, her first and only real life is passing her by in multi-tasked slices too small to achieve anything of merit.