It’s Sunday and I’m at work. It’s actually my scheduled day to work, so this isn’t a ranty post about having to work weekends and the world can lick my sweaty bumhole.
Sorry.
Instead, this is a post about the baffling and idiotic mindset of one of my friends and colleagues who is also here today.
So, for context, we have a large bistro on campus here at work which offers all sorts of foods, drinks and dubious stains and spills on the floor. Usually, when I take my lunch, I head down to the bistro and then text my colleague (let’s call her Numpty) and let her know what free soups they have on offer that day. She then replies and lets me know which she’d like and I take one back to her.
I’m simply awesome like that.
Well, being a Sunday, there was only one choice of soup instead of the usual three. Today’s soup was beef chilli. Yes, I know it’s not technically a soup, but it resembles a soup more than a barrel of squashed frogs.
Actually, squashed frog soup sounds pretty good.
Anyway, when I got down there I sent her a text. In fact, here is the ACTUAL conversation we had (my comments are in yellow).
There’s a lot of love between us
I deserved it.
But then again, so did she. I mean, all she had to do was type ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. In fact a simple ‘Y’ or ‘N’ would have sufficed.
As some of you will know, the over-censorship of media and entertainment in America really pisses me off.
I’m not a child. I can handle the word ‘fuck’ in a movie filled with uncensored (and apparently child friendly) blood, gore, guts and violence.
Well, this morning as I drove into work I heard censorship on the radio that pushed censorship (and me) to the next level.
It happened during the song, ‘I Write Sins Not Tragedies’ by Panic At The Disco; it’s a great song with an incredibly catchy chorus.
The beginning of that chorus goes:
‘I chime in with a “Haven’t you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”
No, it’s much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality’.
Guess which word was censored?
Yep, that’s right, the word ‘Goddamn’ was censored. The irony of that second line of lyrics was most definitely lost here.
I love this song, but the joy of singing along was ruined.
You see, in America religion is a big deal and it’s so easy to offend people. I knew this was the case before coming in, but I had no idea it was this bad. The phrase “went to church” comes up in more conversations than I’m comfortable with and a lot of my new friends here in the States are very religious.
This is something I have tended to find out when they casually mention going to church or they post something ‘God-ish’ on Facebook. When this happens I get a real sense of dread because I have to think back over every conversation we’ve ever had.
Did I say something blasphemous or offensive?
Have I made jokes about God or Jesus?
Did I sacrifice that goat in front of them?
In fact, not 10 minutes ago, this very subject came up at work (not instigated by me, I hasten to add) and one of my colleagues said, “I swear a lot. I use ‘Fuck’, ‘Shit’, ‘Asshole’ and all that, but if I use GD or JC, then you KNOW I’m pissed!”.
It took me a moment to figure out what she meant by GD and JC. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words.
To her, saying ‘God Damn’ or ‘Jesus Christ’ is worse than saying ‘Fuck’.
What the Goddamn?
Is it me, or does that seem a bit fucked…er, I mean, ‘Jesus-Christed’ up? This would go some way towards explaining why the word ‘Goddamn’ was edited out of the song this morning.
A few months ago I said ‘Goddamn it’ at work and got told to watch my language. I couldn’t believe it. I was being scolded like a 7 year old by a woman I have heard swear numerous times.
I’ve even started to replace “Oh my God” with “Oh my goodness”. I hate that I’ve started doing this.
But people here are way too sensitive, and the entertainment business knows this. Out of fear of being sued,they’re pandering to the masses by censoring the shit out of television.
Unless the customer is paying for it of course.
Netflix anyone?
Nothing on Netflix is censored and I hear it’s a popular service[1].
So, is America OK with bad language, blasphemy and sexual content when they’re charged a premium? Apparently so.
My wife pays a yearly subscription for something called XM radio in her car. It’s pricey, but there’s little to no censorship. It really expands the selection of music they play as they can air otherwise unplayable tracks and, being a premium service, there are no Goddamn, Jesus Christing commercials.
When it comes to TV, the UK have it right with censorship. Everything is the same as the US until 9pm. Well, I SAY it’s the same, but that’s not strictly true; they don’t play violent action movies on a Sunday afternoon when kids can see it. But apparently it’s OK for kids to see heads being chopped off and people being riddled with bullets, as long as there’s no sign of a nipple or someone saying ‘Goddamn it’.
At 9pm (or the ‘watershed’ as it’s called) it is assumed that your delicate little snowflakes are all tucked up in bed. After that, it’s the parents’ responsibility to manage what their kids watch.
At 9pm, all bets are off. The only word that is bleeped out is the word ‘Cunt’.
Sorry; ‘the C word’.
After 9pm, TV is for adults and if you’re easily offended, change the channel.
While walking to the office this morning, after the nightmare train journey into London, I heard a distinct “Fucking idiot!” from the other side of the busy road.
Of course my attention was drawn to it straight away and I saw the aftermath of a man who had clearly stepped out in front of a cyclist without looking.
The cyclist was stood there with his bike between his legs; front wheel on the floor and the back wheel up behind his back. It was clear he’d slammed on the brakes causing the bike to stop suddenly, and him a little less suddenly.
He’d then obviously performed that awkward stumbling forward like a man with 50lb testicles which had resulted in the bike riding up behind him.
The man who had stepped out in front of him had chosen to continue walking; ignoring the chaos and carnage he’d left behind.
The cyclist loudly shouted something at him as he walked away, but I didn’t hear much of what he said due to the noise of the traffic. I did pick out the words ‘prick’ and ‘fucking’, so I suspect it wasn’t, “please be careful when stepping out into the road, I’d hate for you to be injured”.
The cyclist hopped back onto his bike and cycled away, turning a corner out of view.
The man was going the same way as me, but on the other side of the road and before long we came to another junction in the road. It was at this point the cyclist came out from the side road, pulled up next to him and made SURE the man had clearly understood what a “complete fucking prick” he was.
Today on Oxford street in London I saw a man get beeped at by a black cab driver as he crossed a side road. The traffic lights had changed before the guy had finished crossing and the cabbie wanted to ensure the man knew it.
Believe me, from his two fingered salute I’m pretty sure he knew it.
Without uttering a word, these two strangers had engaged in the following conversation…
Cabbie – “Come on mate, I haven’t got all day here. The lights have changed and I need to turn left into that street, but you’re causing me to delay that turn by a further 4 seconds. So i’m going to beep my horn at you unnecessarily just so you and those around you are alerted to the fact that you’re taking too long!”
I’d been on the train about 20 minutes this morning when a guy got on and sat opposite me. He was short, dumpy with glasses and was wearing a big anorak. To be honest, he looked like Benny Hill.
I sat there for a while with my eyes closed in an attempt to get some sleep. However, I could feel a bat in the cave and desperately needed to pick my nose.
The train stopped again at another station and I open my eyes briefly to see if any women had joined Benny and I before donning my mining helmet.
No women. Just Benny watching something on his tablet.
In went the finger.
Oh yeah, that’s it; that’s what I’m talking about. Don’t run away. Where are you going? Come to daddy. Come on you little fucker….
I opened my eyes again for a second to see if there were any disgusted females around.
Nope, still just Benny.
On I went, like an 80’s ZX Spectrum classic prequel to Jet Set Willy.
(Nerd reference)
Once I was done I settled back in my seat to comfortably drift off to sleep.
After a few minutes I was woken by Benny and his rustling anorak, which was officially the loudest coat I’d ever heard. As he stood up to remove the deafening apparel I got a face full of boobs.
Boobs?
Holy shit, Benny was a Jenny!
He…sorry, she then sat back down and went back to his…sorry, her tablet. I decided it was probably best to close my eyes and continue to ‘sleep’.
In all fairness I could be forgiven for mistaking Jenny for a man. She had short man-hair, a stocky man-like build, unflattering jeans with big man style boots and, when the guard announced that our train was being terminated due to technical difficulties, an ability to let out a massive “Farkin’ ‘ell, what the fark’s that all abaat?” for all to hear.
I suppose it had to be loud to be heard over her coat.
I’ve just been for a wander in London, mostly to get out of the office for some fresh air and to stretch my legs.
My travels took me to ‘Forbidden Planet’; a Mecca to geeks up and down the country, selling all sorts of film, gaming and comic memorabilia.
I passed a couple with their young son who was holding a life size replica of the portal gun from Aperture Laboratories, made famous by the game ‘Portal’. Awesome!
As I got nearer I heard the dad telling the boy that he couldn’t have it. This is fair enough, but the kid was already holding it in his arms. At least tell the boy BEFORE you’ve watched him carefully pick it up off the shelf and hold it lovingly in his arms like a puppy, you turd.
He pleaded with his dad, but the answer was no.
“How about a foam sword son?”
“How about you suck my hairless balls dad?”
I mooched around the shop for a bit, dribbling over Star Wars stuff, before heading back out into the rain.
As I got to Tottenham Court road I saw a woman in a suit hail a taxi from the kerb. She threw her arm up like an enthusiastic pupil answering a classroom question and the cab pulled over sharply. She hop, skipped and jumped the deepening puddles towards the taxi door only to stop, turn back and shout “for fucks sake!” at the top of her lungs.
This turned a few heads.
It seems three Chinese students had beaten her to the taxi, and as it sped off she angrily attempted to hail another one. This time she looked less like a pupil and more like a Nazi.
To top all this off I saw a skinny little man with a massive beard waiting to cross the road; shouting and arguing with the traffic lights, the pavement and the corner of the pub. Despite it being one of the busiest cities in the world, there didn’t seem to be anyone else needing to cross the road at that moment.
A couple of mornings ago the guy sat next to me on the train uttered loudly “for fuck’s sake!” whilst reading an email on his phone.
Sigh.
What was the point in that? Hmm? What did that achieve?
Nothing.
Well, I say nothing; it DID achieve a certain sense of awkwardness which was nice.
What EXACTLY was the reaction he expected from me?
I have no idea what the correct etiquette should be when all I really wanted to do was tell him to shut the fuck up because it’s early and no-one was interested in his tedious bid for attention.
But seriously, what do you say in a situation like that?
I suppose I could have turned to him with a face of deep concern and said “Oh my god friend, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you ok? Do you need me to do anything? Oh god it must be terrible whatever it is!”, whilst gently stroking his face and sporting a quivering bottom lip.
I suppose I also could have tutted, rolled my eyes and said “bad news eh?” in a knowing ‘we’ve all been there mate’ kind of way.
But I was wearing headphones so I opted instead to ignore him because he was a prick.
Here we go again. An empty carriage and who do I get sat pretty much next to me? Yes, the skinhead who keeps loudly huffing and puffing and sighing whilst talking aggressively to no-one.
Here’s a selection if what he’s saying…out loud…with only me as an audience.
“fuck!”
“for fuck’s sake!”
“I don’t want to”
“fuck it!” (threw his drinks bottle down at that point!)
“fucking work!”
“grrrr fuck!”
So, a nice relaxing journey to work then; not at all tense and uncomfortable for me to have a snooze…
Head In A Blender 