#002 - Indicator Ignorance

I think I was informed on what an indicator in a car was when I was around five or six years old. I remember my mom’s friend’s son used to imitate the noise when he was young. And I’m sure that a lot of other people discovered what an indicator was at an early age. So maybe there’s an unrecorded psychological condition where certain people completely forget or ignore the existence of their indicators when they reach a certain age.

It’s not “effort” to flick your indicator on. Nor is it hard to remember. If you’re turning into a street, or pulling over, you put your indicator on in the appropriate direction. This way, people behind you, and also pedestrians, know where you’re going and can take appropriate action. I’m explaining this in very simple terms, because you people who don’t use your indicators are fucking idiots, and I’m going to treat you that way.

The worst example is when I was out walking once, and I had to cross a street by its junction to a main road, and had to look behind me to see if any cars were turning into the street (as a survival instinct, naturally). I looked, and there was a short nearby queue of cars, none of which were indicating, and none of which were slowing down or far away from the junction. I think you’d agree that it was a fair judgement to cross the road. But of course not, because some wanker in a 4x4 turned into the street I was crossing, and not only did he do this, but he had the audacity to pap his fucking horn at me.

I made a well-informed decision you fucking prick. I checked, you were nearby, you were driving fast and you weren’t indicating. Accept responsibility in future and let other people know when the fuck you are going to turn and slow down. Because it affects their drive too, you know. You’re not the world’s only driver. So quite simply, general public, USE YOUR FUCKING INDICATORS.

SH.

#001 - Sex, Sex, Sex, Sex

I am perfectly qualified to work in advertising. I have had sex with people and I know people that have had sex. Thus, I have logically deduced that myself and these people only care about sex. We don’t talk about anything else, or pursue anything else, because nothing else is interesting. Our existences consist of talking about sex whilst dribbling uncontrollably and wanking ourselves into insanity when we’re alone.

I can’t really see that people who work in advertising have much shame. It can’t be a huge necessity when your job is to trick people into buying more and more plastic shit, and it helps if they view human beings as nothing more than cock-brained imbeciles who instantly throw money at something that gives them an erection or moistens their vagina.

If Huggies launched a new range of nappies with hand prints on the arse and the words “little slut” printed above, I wouldn’t be too surprised. But I would definitely emigrate to a part of the world where companies don’t view babies as exploitable sex-objects and potential buyers as paedophiles.

Maybe I belong to a rare breed of people who want sex to remain special and able to provide an element of romance, rather than just being used as a mindless advertising tool and something to re-blog on Tumblr. Who knows.

SH.