Yes, folks, that time is upon us once more. I need not remind us directly of the implications of the date, as it has been emblazoned all over the news for the past few weeks, not to mention five years. Its events are told with biblical accuracy; whilst the pictures of the twin towers alight is as famous as any painting by Dali or Munch and inspires mixed emotions across the world – success, patriotism, anger, sadness, and the ever-increasing Oh-God-just-give-it-a-rest-ism, to which I have recently ascribed to.

‘But it is one of the most important events of recent times.’ A critic might say, shortly before I lunge for their throat.

It may well be one of the most important events, but I would hardly call it the most important event. To tell the truth, I have no idea what would be classified as the most important, and so shall not pretend that I do, though I do know enough to know that it is remembered perhaps incongruently with the death toll. After all, the Second World War claimed millions of lives, though said dead are only remembered for a single day in reality, and even then is heaped together with the dead from every other major conflict since the turn of the century, or those who died on the Titanic in 1912 are seldom remembered in lavish ceremonies either.

‘But this is different, this is terrorism.’ A different critic might say, whilst attending to the now-unconscious first critic.

 How very astute of you – terrorism and international conflict are two very different things. Ten gold stars and a pat of the head for you. A terrorist act is one against a certain people, usually on their own soil – much like a massacre. How, then, did the Indonesian massacre of the 1965-66 escape the clutches of the press, where between 500,000 and one million died? Or the Holocaust, where several million jews, gypsies, poles, slavs, homosexuals and disabled people died at the hands of one of the most tyrannical dictators of all time (if you’ll note – again, I refer to one of – Hitler’s war crimes seem to dissolve into insignificance next to the 25 million Stalin had killed at around the same time). These, then, should surely deserve several years mourning at a time, though the former gets a week, and the latter is unduly forgotten.

‘You relate the number of dead directly to the mourning time and not to the social or cultural impact.’ A third and final critic would say, most likely from afar.

Is it so wrong that mourning should be proportional to the number of dead? After all, the events of 11/9 (Which is what English or sensible people should refer to it as) are celebrated as they are due to their sheer magnitude. Though, you raise a fair point – as far as cultural impact is concerned, 11/9 marks a dramatic shift in worldwide policy and the death of sanity. Now, one is labelled a terrorist if wearing a turban (despite the fact that it’s Sikhs that wear turbans, not Muslims) or says the word ‘terrorist’ or ‘bomb’ in any public place, where one can be shot for wearing a backpack, and draconian measures are implemented to keep the public in a state of heightened fear, as perfectly described in Orwell’s 1984. Let us all bow our heads, then, in solemn respect to the disappearance of sense in our society, to the inability of the world to let the dead of 11/9 rest in peace and to the seemingly unconquerable jihad of ignorance lead by the very introspective ‘leaders’ – Blair and Bush.

In spirit of the event, though, I shall pose the question that anyone who was old enough to remember the events of September 11th unfolding and conscious throughout that day could answer (and, as such, I expect to be answered by everyone);

Where were you when you heard of the terrorist attacks on September 11th, 2001?

Gaz out.

Topic #1: Underwear.

Well, "Where to start?" would be an appropriate question to start this little rant off. (Ignoring the fact that it isn't a proper question and taking it as granted that I asked it in an inclined tone to hint at a question.) In case you're wondering, I'm wearing Calvin Klein boxers at the moment, which leads me onto my first point; the range available for the sexes. Men have a choice ‘twix Y-Fronts, Boxers, Thongs, Briefs or going Commando. Not that I'm complaining at this somewhat limited arsenal, as it makes it so much easier for us to choose what to wear (Should we not just delve into the drawer and pull out a pair as I.) as any self-respecting straight man will only have a choice between Boxers and Y-Fronts usually, if that. Women, on the other hand, have a wide variety; the likes of which I daren't delve into. Long story short: What is with women and underwear? Sometimes it makes me think they value it far more than any man or amount of money and will often choose at great depth what pair will match their outfit even though they won't actually be displaying it. Madness.

Also; why charge such extra ordinate amounts for such simple articles? Most of the 'branded' underwear now costs well within the region of £20 per pair, if not more which, in my opinion, is just ridiculous. I can buy myself a T-shirt at a high street shop for that amount where I'm paying for much more fabric and often much more of a pattern. What's the point? I wouldn't know about women's underwear, only having been in ‘La Senza’ the once and even then being dragged around reluctantly, however I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was the same or worse. This is, of course, assuming I actually want to talk about underwear when not prompted to. (Which I don't, for the record.)

Topic #2: Pet Names

Animal Rights campaigners often campaign for justice for Animalkind. Simple fact. They stop them being tested on (And, commonly in,) in laboratories, receive backing from groups such as the RSPB, RSPCA and the PDSA, however there's one fundamental area they have failed to look at; Pet Names. It is a basic human right to be known as and by whatever name you wish to be, so why doesn't the same apply to animals? Before I go incredibly one-sided, allow me to point out there are some animals out there somewhere with sensible names who fail to come forwards due to sheer embarrassment from their animal kin. However, and as such a sad fact, many animals are the recipients of unnecessarily daft, cuddly, affectionate or otherwise unnecessary names. A perfect example is the classic canine name of 'Rover'.

Who (Bar those with a double lobotomy and delusional tendencies) know anyone called Rover? What sort of a name is it anyway? The same applies with 'Rex' (However to a much less extreme threshold, as 'Rex' is Latin for 'King', which is somewhat complimentary.), 'Butch' (Which makes the dog in question seem more homosexual than the leather gimp-style dog collar and chain leash already manage to.) and 'Fido'. (Who names their dog after an adjective? Fido = Faithful [Latin]) I, however, fall into the same category as those above, having two female cats with males names. (Chip and Dale, should you wish to know. Also, their names were derived from the rescue rangers of the same name, not the strippers.) I was, quite young when I named them, in my defence, however, both names are in common usage, and so it isn't quite as bad as calling them 'Cattus' or 'Kathgohrma'. Fools.

Topic #3: Bob Geldof

Now, this may be me being slightly more fascist than anything else, however is it just me that is sick and tired of hearing about this sodding G8 thingy that's taking place on... come to think about it, I don't care when it is. Firstly, Mr. Bob Geldof, (Whose very name is linked with money. ‘Geld’ is German for ‘Gold’, should you wish to know.) in all of his charitable glory, is putting on another show to help us banish poverty from the planet. The fact it's still going on after Live Aid would suggest that you failed last time, Mr. Geldof, so what makes you think you'll succeed this time? (Also, I'm sick of these boring 'Make Poverty History' wristbands, and so I am working to establish the 'Make 'Make Poverty History' Bands History' Bands.) Also, don't get me wrong, but I want to end 3rd world suffering as much as the next person; however I would only be concerned with helping countries like Kenya, Zimbabwe, Zambia and the like. The reason? Because it was the British Empire that ruined them. Our fault; our responsibility. Likewise, France should aid Senegal and the Côte D'Ivoire as they ruined those counties. Holland and Germany could lend a helping hand as well if they wanted to, as they helped it along.

My problem with Mr. Geldof? He focuses his attention on Ethiopia. Sure, it may have a lot of economical problems and loads of people starving and dying, however this is mostly self-inflicted. (I say mostly, as Italy invaded in 1936, however that was the only time Ethiopia was a colony.) Thus; my reckoning? Aid the countries that we devastated first and then go and help out Ethiopia. Not the other way round. Even so, most of the countries are still under dictatorships, so maybe we should depose those totalitarian chappies before sending any more aid and further funding their regime. Come on Britain; you went to war with Afghanistan and Iraq without any reason. What's stopping you doing it again? Incompetent New Labour Bastards.

Anyway, this concludes my little Blog™ by request™ for now. However, fear not: I shall return soon enough. Fear not.

Now, this sort of game is always fun; requires minimal effort by those taking part and allows you to stretch your creativity (Or lack thereof) and to show off your vocabulary. (Same applies.) Now, in case you aren't familiar with how to play the Wordathon™, allow me to educate you:

Someone will start the game off by choosing a word. This word does not have to have any particular significance, nor does it have to be along a certain theme, however it does have to be of English origin and an actual word. The word is chosen and placed under this message as a comment. The next person will then post a word that is somehow related to that words (If it's a vague link, be sure to explain it so that other people don't get the 'Wrong eng of the stick', as it were.)

The Wordathon™ has no end as such, and lasts as long as Gaz's Blog™ itself does. Anyone can post a reply so long as it goes along with the rules of the game. (Comments restricted to gaming comments please. You can rant about how much you hate it in response to a normal Blog™.)

Also, please remember that comments go from bottom to top. (Just for you numpties out there.)

Thus, without any further ado, on with the Wordathon™!

In all seriousness, I could've saved myself some time and put 'Friday 14th' as the title, however that wouldn't have been appropriate to the content, should you wish to know. Anyway, the reason for this part II? The very fact that MSN Spaces deleted my epic Friday 13th Blog™ and so now, just to annoy them, I shall post it once more in the hope that it stays on for a little while longer.  Please note this is being rewritten from memory and so I shall try my best not to skip over crucial focal points but also try not to add too much new information. Also, in other news, I'm now on study leave for my exams, and so I shall make a special effort to get at least a couple of blogs™ up during the course of the weeks, however I cannot promise every day. ("Though it would be nice," I hear you cry.)

Friday 13th

I woke with a start as the incessant bitching of the alarm clock seemed somewhat louder than usual (Only comparable to some sort of foghorn-cum-claxon going off in my left ear), invoking my now-involuntary response to reach over and smash it with my fist. You can imagine my surprise, then, as the clock suddenly turned carnivorous and devoured most of my lower arm. Somewhat baffled and injured, I sauntered my way downstairs, avoiding the three nests of black holes that had simultaneously appeared in the hall and the bottomless pit that was obstructing my passage into the kitchen. Having successfully Indiana Jones-ed through this precarious bunch of nasty things, I proceeded to battle with the cereal cupboard to hand over my daily quotidian of chocolaty goodness before weaving my way to the shower and fending off an onslaught from the bathroom utensils and shampoos (Which had come to their sense and formed the Sanitary Household Instruments Team - SHIT - and were currently in the process of staging a revolution to bring democracy to the bathroom.)

Having done battle in my house, all that remained to do was wind my way to school along the, for whatever reason, now flaming road. Ignoring the bunch of geriatric ninjas that were currently in the middle of a tea break and squabbling about what colour their group's cups should be at the end of my drive, I made it to school relatively unscathed, save a nasty encounter with a irate twig. There, I proceeded to fail everything I set out to do and watch the entire common room turn unnatural shades of purple (Not that one naturally turns purple unless one is a Ribena berry,) and their heads contort into shapes the likes of which I have never seen before or since. After enduring seven bombing raids and fifteen grenade barrages on the common room by the Luxembourgian Mafia. (Who had, in a simultaneous piece of bad fortune, lost their leader and renowned French actor, Pierre Fragg, to a group of forty-something year old chickens who wished to make the point about the ever-decreasing price of poultry on the British market and had set up a base underneath the common room but, curiously enough, to the right of the location they were underneath on the floor below.) Deciding that I had had enough, I set off home, avoiding the sudden precipitate of Hippopotamuses in pink leotards and back to the small mauve sofa that had once been my house and was now the resting site for a dozen or so chronically fatigued geriatric ninjas and their friends, the gun wielding nuns of Aberystwyth.

*****

Hope you enjoyed it even more that the last attempt. And yes, I did ignore my own idea of not throwing anymore information in. So quiet. Another blog™ may follow during the course of the day; I've not decided yet.

As the name suggests, this Blog™ has come about merely due to the amount of demand there was for a new one. Honestly, you post two on consecutive nights and everyone demands you have an opinion on everything. Luckily, for the purpose of this activity, I do. And thus I have chosen one of the people requesting a new one, the aptly named "Rachel" (Who helped in the invasion of France) has chosen 5 topics for me to state my opinions on and to essentially ramble on about until I get bored and resort to the next pre-assigned topic. Ready? Tough shit. I've already started:

1. TELEVISION

We'll start this thing on a nice open topic, and what better an open topic than the box from which all the sputum we regurgitate within conversation originates. Seriously, 80% of people in the UK are incapable of starting a conversation outside the standard plane of what happened on TV last night. Also, they will start with the line "Did you see <x>?" or "What did you think of <x>?” Now, this is where the wit and sophistication of the average Joe comes into play. If our subject has not seen the show, they are subject to a brutal indoctrination of the best bits, the talker completely oblivious to the fact that the subject will not have watched it because they were not interested. If they have however, the main parts of the show are recapped, and, as both persons saw the thing in the first place, it's not of any educational or mental benefit.

However, the incapacity of the British mind aside, I shall now move onto challenge the idea that everything shown on TV falls into one of three categories: {I} Reality TV (Aptly entitled Télé Poubelle or 'Trash TV' in France) {II} The News or {III} Shock images of something to guilt us into donating lots of money to an unworthy cause. Alright, so the Tsunami appeal was in need of financial aid, but surely the Governments of the world should be doing that, not the subjects of the world, as we pay our taxes to, yup, that's right: The Government. This brings me onto point 2;

2. THE INCOMPETENCY OF WORLD LEADERS

Who, in their right mind, would elect a leader to the world's only remaining superpower with an IQ lower than the average IQ of that country? (Or, for that matter, a neurotically deranged chimp) Well, as you guessed, the answer is in fact Britain, and the leader is George W. Bush. What? No one told you? In electing Tony Blair we in fact inaugurated his partner in arms George to the table as well. Anyway, why is it that we always choose the leader who looks better for the country, even if they are absolutely crap at governing? Of course, the serious matters of which candidate has less wrinkles and supports the most outrageous policies are the basis on which the public elect the leaders, and that's all that matters. That and their willingness to push the entire world just close enough to the edge to blow us all to kingdom come with one touch of a red button. Marvellous.

3. FASHION

The rules of fashion are very simple. Follow these and you can predict next years fashions and, with minimal wit, design talent and money, recreate them: 

Summer Wear: Less fabric means more skin shown which, in turn means more chance of sunburn which points to more money for the oil and winter wear industries to hide the ridiculous lobster-colouring all over the fashion victim's legs.

Winter Wear: More fur and more politically unsound garments means more money to the government on which they can pretend to put through anti-hunting bills but just rake more in off elaborate taxes on woollen and natural-based vestments.

Swimwear: Stupider shapes points to amusingly-shaped tan lines and an urge for a second holiday to even out the tan.

Men's Wear: The Pinker the better. Or, failing that, emblazon the front with the name of an American city or some sort of pseudo-religious wording like a name of one of the 7 deadly sins. (It took me a whole month to work out I had 'Revenge' emblazoned over my black shirt, as it was written across the collar and I rarely have the top two buttons done up, and so couldn't work it out.)

Catwalk Wear (If such clothing exists): Get an ordinary outfit, cut it at various places, stick another outfit haphazardly to the side of it in a clashing colour, sew it on loosely so it wobbles as you walk, don some garden implement of sorts e.g. a rusted tyre and a silly hat and set off down that catwalk in the latest styles of the season. Or week, as the case normally is.

As you can see, I'm not much into fashion, but, as far as the basic principles go, I can't be far faltered.

4. PUBLIC TRANSPORT

Looks like I'm going to have to keep this one short, as I could go on for quite a while about the state of public transport. Why doesn't Labour, being the left wing socialist scum that they are, recall all the private investing in public transport and nationalise it? It'd sort out all the problems we have with the rail, bus and tram industries (though, admittedly, the trams aren't as bad as the buses which aren't as bad as the trains) and, to top it all, they'd make a bomb out of the money gained from BA. (British Airways. And by bomb I don't mean a literal one. If we start blowing up our own planes then who will we have to stereotype into believing they're all terrorists?) In fact, I think I'll stop there. I've already bordered on equality, which I don't want to go into unless asked to. That way I can't be blamed for my actions.

5. FOREIGN MUSIC

Now, I have to admit that I warped this title slightly to make it a tad more culture-friendly, and so I'll talk about some of my preferred music from around the world. Well, to start we have the obvious choice of the English (And American, as they are vaguely associated to English no matter how hard we try and shake them.) bands that are on my favourites list. (See bottom left of the top bit of the page for marginally more info.) Then, we have Rammstein, a German band with a vast number of decent songs and very few appalling songs (Mostly from the first two albums if at all.) Following this, we have Chapeaumelon (Bowler Hat, en français), who are French-speaking Canadians, and so classify on both continents. Then we have Björk, coming from Iceland, (Who I don't particularly like but has been added on demand of Kate.) Nightwish's rather excellent "Kuolema Tekee Taiteilijan" (Or "Death Creates an Artist"), the newly discovered (By me anyway) Romanian song that is "Dragostea din tei", made famous by the hilarious web cam footage of the man bopping along to himself. In addition, too, to this, we have "Pais E Filhos", music by a Brazilian Rock Band (And so it counts as Portuguese I suppose) and then "Suteki da Ne" (“Isn’t it Beautiful”: It’s a really nice song, of note.) by Nobuo Uematsu, the genius behind the music for the Final Fantasy series. And, in case you were wondering (Which I know you like to do.), the singing is in Japanese. (Particular song from Final Fantasy X)

And so this brings us to the end of an epic blog of even more epic proportions. Also, in future, I may limit the topics to 3 unless I have a lot more time to spend. Toodlepipski.

So, here I am for the 2nd time in as many weeks in a room that I've never even been in up until the last time. Got that? Good. Anyway, just to pass the very slow-moving time, I'm going to have my minions here shout out 3 random topics and I shall try and rabbit on about each for about 5 minutes. Thus, the stronger I feel about/more I know about the subject, the more I will be able to talk and bitch about said topic. Anywho, with minimal further ado, let's get started.

TOPIC #1: BADGERS

Now, I have to admit: I didn't get this topic chosen, I chose it myself due to the deafening silence created by the first minion here (Kirsty says "hi") and is now claiming that she didn't respond because she is, in fact, blind, and not able to read the writing properly. Liar. But; Badgers.

Black and White omnivores (Which Amy pokes with spoons apparently. Shut up Kirsty.) that rummage around the floors of forests eating whatever they can find. Oh, what a lovely existence that must be. In fact, I rather like badgers. They inspire me. Not quite sure how, but just take it as fact that they do and be done with it. However, as much as I do like them, I must be critical. As inspirational and truly amazing as they are, my major complaint is this; they cannot perform algebraic functions and mix cement simultaneously. (Just to answer Kirsty, I CAN.) Anyway, as Kirsty (Just out of interest- another Kirsty. Yes, I know 2 people with the same name might be a tad confusing for a reader with the IQ of a retarded Fish, better, a Liberal Democrat MP, however I'm sure that another, more able, blogger™ would be more than happy to explain. Or shoot you. Either works.) is singing ABBA's "Knowing me, Knowing you." (Partly due to the fact that I was singing it before, but we'll ignore that.) I shall move onto a second topic.

TOPIC #2: ABBA

Lets start with some breaking news that 'the blonde one went mad'. (According to the Reliable source that is Kirsty #2). However, just as a point: They're Scandinavian. They're all blonde. And so, any of the 4 people could have gone mad. Ah well. But; as a question, who actually likes ABBA? And who knows what it stands for? The Association of Badger Braving Associations? You doubt it? Well, I'll show you.

TOPIC #3: White

Nothing. Niet. Nil. Zero. White. End of subject.

And so this brings me to the end of my Random Blog™ of this particular time. On a side note, Nic, a very good friend of mine, is currently hospital-bound. So, if you pray or something that you think can help her, please do so. For her.

Oh, and Kirsty #2 wishes for me to say "Never eat yellow snow." I'm not quite sure the reason for such a random statement, but, then again, I could say the same thing about my entire blogs™. So, until next time which should, with any luck, be very soon, Adieu.

(I actually created this masterpiece yesterday, but, alas, the computer decided to log me off the internet before I could post. Besides, I had to be in History. So, I saved it and here it is. Tada.)

So, here I am. Sat at school. At dinner. Not hungry. With nothing to do. Well, that's enough simple sentences for the time being, and so now onto some a tad more complex as I try and squeeze as much eccentricism, thought-provoking and otherwise useless crap into the space of half an hour of typing. Also, I've noticed on this computer that Blog™ (Blog with a TM symbol) is sometimes displayed as Blogsâ„¢, for whatever reason. I think it's just a error with this PC however, as an apostrophe (which we all love to hate) is displayed as ’, so I'm not quite sure what's going on. If you encounter the same mistakes, let me know, and I shall laugh at you accordingly.

Anywho, onto something a tad more random. Really, this typing is just a facade for the numb scallies sat behind me, having a full philosophical debate on the difference between LCD and Plasma screens. (The contents of which contained no fewer than 34 uses of a swear word rhythmical with 'duck'; they have also just left. Hoorah. I do believe I scared them off... well, I let one off that could have floored an already dead (though standing due to a rare phenomena of vertical rigomortis) rhinoceros. It's no wonder really.) Now they have gone, I shall have to describe something new and just as monotonous happening around me. But, being the lazy so-and-so I am, I can't be bothered in the slightest.

The sudden thought has just dawned on me to re-type the epic grammar guide that was taken from us due to a fault on MSN's behalf very sadly two weeks ago this Thursday. And so, without further ado, here we are;

Gaz's Grammar Guide™ (Also referable to as the GGG, Triple G or the greatest work of stating-the-obvious ever written. Please also note this is not definitive, just generalised.)

FULL STOP (American: Period... sickos)

Appears as: .

Used:

1.       At the end of a sentence to mark as such,

2.       In conjunction with 2 other full stops to denote a pause informally in text,

3.       To mark an unfinished part of speech as part of a novel.

Most commonly Confused with: A Small Ecuadorian Banana Plantation

COMMA (American: Comma)

Appears as: ,

Used:

1.       To mark a pause in literature or in dialogue

2.       To enclose a point that is extra or contrary to that being made

3.       In lists of 2 or more to mark the beginning of a new point

4.       After the penultimate point in a list and before the 'and' or 'or' before the final point, contrary to popular belief.

Example: The Boy failed not only because of his utter foolishness, but also his incompetence, idiocy, and general unwillingness to participate.

Most Commonly Confused with: Al Gore

SEMICOLON (American: ...wtf?!?)

Appears as: ;

Used:

1.       To denote more than one following example; such as in a dossier or a novel. Not in a Bulleted list, such as this, unless used within one of the points, such as this.

Most Commonly Confused with: A Beaver suffering from Conjunctivitis

COLON (American: Ass... Idiots.)

Appears as: :

Used:

1.       To denote a single following example in continuous text, or to denote the impending presence of a list, such as this.

Most Commonly Confused with: A Purple and Yellow striped pencil tatooed with the words "Kiss me, I'm conservative" followed by an incoherent mumble of ms, ws, bs, and rs.

Parentheses (American: Brackets)

Appear as: ( ) { } [ ] < >

Used:

1.       To enclose a point not really related to the topic, as common in the blogs™

2.       To add a P.S. within the body of the script itself. 

Most Commonly Confused with: A Man absurdly dressed in Green stood in a medium-sized bathtub of custard, costing the entire total of £4,365 to stage whilst humming the Liberian national anthem and accompanied by the Newcastle-on-Tyne Philharmonic Orchestra playing a rousing rendition of Pomp and Circumstance, written by the great composer Edward Elgar.

So there we go.