How far the world of science has come to finally provide a ray of hope to those stricken with HIV / Aids. I still remember when HIV / Aids first hit the media's attention some 20 odd years ago. The propaganda behind it was more frightening than the actual virus, it was a disease that was out to kill homosexuals, created in monkeys and spread by Africans. These titbits were then followed by the fact you could catch it by being near an infected party or sharing the same toilet seat, being spat on or by coming in contact with their blood…the horror of that last one came to fruition when a heterosexual contracted the virus after a blood transfusion. This was the turning point that actually made the media report the real facts about the virus and once they did, everyone not affected seemed to lose interest.
From numerous campaigns that went out to scare the public, revealing the horrors and possibilities of unprotected sex, the whole sexual partners pyramid scheme (anyone remember that? If you had slept with 5 different people and they all had slept with 5 different people and they all slept with 5 different people…and so on and so on…), to nothing…medical science took so long to produce a glimmer of a real cure that the attention span for the deadly virus seemed to fizzle out of existence. The public found new things to occupy its time with…until now and it is about time.
The one thing that doctors and the medical profession never provide is a cure…only different ways to treat and ease suffering. Why? Because there is more money in keeping you ill than actually curing you. So for a cynical old duffer like me to actually see medical progress that can cure a virus that has claimed friends of mine, then I'm all for it…and have gone out to do my bit by buying [RED] products to help the cause…will you do the same?
If you are interested in doing a small part in the grand scheme of things then head on over to [RED] by clicking the link below:
Rather RED then dead...show your support.
My news, compared to that, seems somewhat lacking in moral fibre and coloured ribbons…but I am going to share anyway.
To all you UK readers out there…my book, 'Coding of a concrete animal' will be ready for the last Christmas post day to all those that pre-ordered it through Troubador (Click to buy it now). Due to the perfect timing of its release, Christmas (what was I thinking???) this graphic tale of the UK criminal underworld will NOT be available to the general public until late Jan / early Feb 2007.
This gives the marketing team time to get over their New Year hangovers and start publicising my book in magazines, radio, buyer's guides and the internet, it also means that you would be amongst the first to own, read and share your comments before anyone else. What are you waiting for? Get in on the ground level, help a fellow tagger / MySpace friend out, show your support by buying a copy, spreading the word though the power of email, text and word of mouth, and make it a number one bestseller.
I thank you…
To celebrate its release I am taking my new bride to Vegas next week (no kids…what will we do with ourselves?) and live the high life (even if it is for only 6 days). The last time I was in a casino was back in my naughty days, when a late shift would usually end up in a late night intake of drink, cigars and gambling…
I remember one night, when a group of guys bet more than they could lose and tried to do a runner without settling their debts. Big mistake, the club was in the heart of Soho and believe me, there is no place to run before something big and nasty emerges out of a side alley and gives you the old slice and dice. My entourage and I (6 lumps who had just finished a 7 hour shift at a drum and bass promotion…so you can tell what kind of mood we were in) were just about to come down the stairs of this particular establishment when the paupers, who were trying to make it away on their toes, ran straight in to us. Now at first, they thought we worked at the casino and started to double back down the stairs only to see the club bouncers making their way towards the stairs…they were caught like scared rabbits, dazed and confused.
They say that there is 7 stages of grief, me, I used to give plenty of people plenty of grief back in my previous life…some times for a reason and others because I was bored…but there was never 7 stages…maybe 3. You don't do as you're told, I give you verbal grief, you mouth back, I give physical grief, you get physical back then I give you pavement concrete grief…there was no 4th stage.
These herberts, however, showed these stages once they clicked that we were on the side of our comrades in arms…it's an unwritten rule that doormen watch each others backs (not always the case mind you…there are a few that talk the talk but fail to walk the walk) even if you work at different clubs.
The first was disbelief at their predicament.
The second was denial; their luck could not be this bad.
The third was anger in which fury reared its head as they attempted to STG.
The fourth was bargaining, once it sunk in that they did not stand a chance.
The fifth was depression, as bladders leaked, eyes wept and a lack of caring arose.
The sixth was acceptance, they knew they were in the wrong and was going to get a beating and so they gave up. Whack!!!
The seventh stage is guilt, which these fellows never showed and so got an extra smack across their knuckles (literally) with an extendable cosh.
This is but one of many happy memories concerning casino's…I hope my experience of Vegas only adds to them.
Stay frosty!
From numerous campaigns that went out to scare the public, revealing the horrors and possibilities of unprotected sex, the whole sexual partners pyramid scheme (anyone remember that? If you had slept with 5 different people and they all had slept with 5 different people and they all slept with 5 different people…and so on and so on…), to nothing…medical science took so long to produce a glimmer of a real cure that the attention span for the deadly virus seemed to fizzle out of existence. The public found new things to occupy its time with…until now and it is about time.
The one thing that doctors and the medical profession never provide is a cure…only different ways to treat and ease suffering. Why? Because there is more money in keeping you ill than actually curing you. So for a cynical old duffer like me to actually see medical progress that can cure a virus that has claimed friends of mine, then I'm all for it…and have gone out to do my bit by buying [RED] products to help the cause…will you do the same?
If you are interested in doing a small part in the grand scheme of things then head on over to [RED] by clicking the link below:
Rather RED then dead...show your support.
My news, compared to that, seems somewhat lacking in moral fibre and coloured ribbons…but I am going to share anyway.
To all you UK readers out there…my book, 'Coding of a concrete animal' will be ready for the last Christmas post day to all those that pre-ordered it through Troubador (Click to buy it now). Due to the perfect timing of its release, Christmas (what was I thinking???) this graphic tale of the UK criminal underworld will NOT be available to the general public until late Jan / early Feb 2007.
This gives the marketing team time to get over their New Year hangovers and start publicising my book in magazines, radio, buyer's guides and the internet, it also means that you would be amongst the first to own, read and share your comments before anyone else. What are you waiting for? Get in on the ground level, help a fellow tagger / MySpace friend out, show your support by buying a copy, spreading the word though the power of email, text and word of mouth, and make it a number one bestseller.
I thank you…
To celebrate its release I am taking my new bride to Vegas next week (no kids…what will we do with ourselves?) and live the high life (even if it is for only 6 days). The last time I was in a casino was back in my naughty days, when a late shift would usually end up in a late night intake of drink, cigars and gambling…
I remember one night, when a group of guys bet more than they could lose and tried to do a runner without settling their debts. Big mistake, the club was in the heart of Soho and believe me, there is no place to run before something big and nasty emerges out of a side alley and gives you the old slice and dice. My entourage and I (6 lumps who had just finished a 7 hour shift at a drum and bass promotion…so you can tell what kind of mood we were in) were just about to come down the stairs of this particular establishment when the paupers, who were trying to make it away on their toes, ran straight in to us. Now at first, they thought we worked at the casino and started to double back down the stairs only to see the club bouncers making their way towards the stairs…they were caught like scared rabbits, dazed and confused.
They say that there is 7 stages of grief, me, I used to give plenty of people plenty of grief back in my previous life…some times for a reason and others because I was bored…but there was never 7 stages…maybe 3. You don't do as you're told, I give you verbal grief, you mouth back, I give physical grief, you get physical back then I give you pavement concrete grief…there was no 4th stage.
These herberts, however, showed these stages once they clicked that we were on the side of our comrades in arms…it's an unwritten rule that doormen watch each others backs (not always the case mind you…there are a few that talk the talk but fail to walk the walk) even if you work at different clubs.
The first was disbelief at their predicament.
The second was denial; their luck could not be this bad.
The third was anger in which fury reared its head as they attempted to STG.
The fourth was bargaining, once it sunk in that they did not stand a chance.
The fifth was depression, as bladders leaked, eyes wept and a lack of caring arose.
The sixth was acceptance, they knew they were in the wrong and was going to get a beating and so they gave up. Whack!!!
The seventh stage is guilt, which these fellows never showed and so got an extra smack across their knuckles (literally) with an extendable cosh.
This is but one of many happy memories concerning casino's…I hope my experience of Vegas only adds to them.
Stay frosty!
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