Why I Don't Like Sharing Facebook

“... mate, look; Facebook; straight sucks ...”

OK, let me start out by pointing out that this is probably going to be highly hypocritical as the majority of the traffic to this site comes via Facebook, but I've been dining out on the hand that feeds me for twenty-eight years so far, so fuck it.

So for as long as I can remember – and remember I can't remember much – I've had a lessening interest in good old Facebook. As an antisocial bastard, I've always been slightly uneasy with the idea of site, but obviously I opted in due to peer pressure because that never pointed me in the wrong direction before [Line added while proofreading with a beer and zoot]. Over the years it's been good to me, but just recently I've distanced myself from it.

But why Ben?

At first I thought it was due to my selfishness – an attribute I've always used as my major influence in decision making times – has grown, therefore leaving me to care slightly less about the people I went to school with and their troubles and woes. But no, that's always been in the case.

In fact that was part of the attraction of Facebook; to be ever-so-slightly stalking people from your past to see how miserable their lives had become, in turn boosting your own confidence due to your life being marginally better than theirs. We all do it. That's probably due to the no-holds-barred spree of accepting friend requests when joining. We all took the role of an unpopular kid throwing a party; letting anybody that wanted to enter; into your little online social circle, despite the fact you never cared for them and vice versa.

What was great is you could basically watch a relationship blossom and then crumble from the comfort of your PC chair;

• Stacy is in a new relationship with Bob.
• A few loving updates from both, ridiculously over-using emoticons.
• Then one day; Stacy posts “grrrrrrr men!”
• An hour later, Bob posts; “bitchez b trippin”
• The stage is now fully set to watch these two idiots argue it out on good old Facebook for all of us to bask in.

It was all the fun of Jeremy Kyle without the agony of Jeremy Kyle himself. But then something happen, I'm not sure what, maybe people wizened up to sharing every intimate detail of their lives or maybe I've been cut off from those Facebook Friends in a cull. Or maybe, just maybe, users took a shift from sharing their own personal lives to simply sharing other 'content'.

Now, when I go online to check to see if Stacy and Bob ever got back together, or whether or not Bob had finally started paying the child support, I can't find anything in my news feed besides reposts of LADBible, shitty Vines and links to dubious websites filled with random lists like; “Top 10 Child Actors that Turned to Drugs”. So I'm going to take it on myself to explain; nobody cares about this shit people! I already follow LADBible on Twitter, I don't need to some cunt on Facebook reposting every-fucking-thing they post, the only Vine I watch is my own sex-tape and I couldn't give a fuck about those websites that list things in top 10s but make you click to each next page for the continued countdown.

Facebook has gone from 'connecting with friends' to sharing bullshit that's posted elsewhere online. You see, this is where the hypocrisy begins, because the likeliness is you clicked a link on Facebook to get to here, almost making the irony of my argument to ridiculous to bare. But I'll defend myself; I'm sharing my content. Me; Ben Broughton, I [poorly] wrote these words, this isn't the latest online fad that will dwindle in a few months time [this is my eighth year, I'm starting to think it'll never catch on]. But this is an extension of myself I'm sharing with you [kinky] and I'm doing it via Facebook so my friends can connect with it, because they're unlikely to check my blog everyday for updates due to my sporadic updates, I don't even think David B******** has this as his homepage anymore.

You see, I do this because I enjoy it, I share it with others so they can hopefully enjoy it too. I don't beg people to repost or comment because I'd hate for my content to become that very content I despise. Yes, I could simply perform a cull and remove the dead weight from Facebook, but I've much better things to do with my time, like write, play with Fiona or watch paint dry [I'll share the video on Facebook later, if you want to check it out], but more importantly, if I did remove these people from Facebook they may not have stumbled across this blog, and maybe, just maybe, I'm talking some sense to them.

Or maybe I'm not. So in the mean time, if someone could keep tabs on Facebook and let me know when it changes I'd be very happy.

Thanks for your time.

And remember to REPOST, SHARE and COMMENT, you fucking sheep.

Breaking Bad Book Store Etiquette

So, I was recently in a branch of the UK's most popular book store, and to save them getting any free publicity let's just call it 'H2O-pebbles' when I unintentionally overheard a conversation between a couple, that got me slightly irked.

Now, I understand that H2O-pebbles is not a library, although enough people treat it like one. But there's that unwritten rule that you should keep your voice a few decibels below your usual inside voice, yet this couple didn't seem to follow that rule. That fact alone made it easier to hear what these two fuckwits were talking about.

At first I attempted to block it out as I rooted around for belated Christmas presents [yeah, don't you wish you were in my inner-circle], but they kept congregating around my general vicinity, like flies to shit [could have picked a better metaphor that didn't label me as shit]. It didn't take me too long to clock on that these two were either on the cusp of getting into a romantic relationship or had just began one.

The biggest tell tale signs was their inability to stand in silence. Because when you've been together for a while there's no need for you to open your pie-hole and let a random barrage of words waterfall from the back of your throat. I do understand that in new relationships silence is deadly, it needs to be filled with inane chatter … “Have you read this book...”, “I heard they made it into a film...”, “Hey, that moody looking geezer looks irked that we're talking TOO FUCKING LOUDLY...”.

That's fine. Do what you gotta do, love birds, just do it quieter and away from me, please.

But the metaphorical straw that broke the metaphorical back of the metaphorical camel was when the female said; “Will you explain Breaking Bad to me, I was texting you when I was watching it so I kinda lost track.”

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, instead of giving the correct response; “No, you silly bitch, go back and watch those episodes again, in fact, what the bloody fuck are we doing in H2O-pebbles if you haven't watched those episodes of Breaking Bad I suggested?” [I myself would have thrown a couple of C-words in there too, to be fair] and breaking her fingers to stop her texting in future, the guy actually starts to catalogue what happens like a spineless, pussy-whipped C-word!

Deep down, I know this shouldn't frustrate me to the levels it does, but I can't help it. Honestly, this really fucking frustrates me.

Breaking Bad is a masterpiece of television and deserves to be treated as such.

You wouldn't describe a Picasso; “Well it's all like square bits and the faces are all mixed up and weird.”, you'd simply show it to a person. Just as you wouldn't half-heartedly hum a Beethovan symphony, instead you have the person listen to it. Breaking Bad is the same, you have the person watch it, for Heisenberg's [read as Christ's] sake!

I sincerely hope they went home and he [A] Clockwork Orange'd her [Ludovico technique scene, not the "Singin' in the Rain/Rape" scene]. If he didn't I hope they have a truly unhappy life together and they spawn stupid children that struggle to tie their shoelaces and get bullied everyday by my kids; Walt, Jesse and Saul.

Mild Irritations (Volume Two)

People that Disrespect DVDs

DVDs are a great invention, without a shadow of a doubt. I have loads, as do most of my friends, I bet even you have some too. I love DVDs and I’m very proud of my collection, because I have an excellent taste in TV Shows, Stand-Up Comedy and Films. I have such a good taste that my friends, eager to be like me ask to borrow them from time to time, I gladly lend them to share this brilliant material. But this is where trouble can arise, because if my DVDs return with damage inflicted on them, I begin to get irate.

To damage someone’s DVD is much like spitting in their grandma’s face. You just don’t do it. It’s wrong, plain and simple. I have a friend back home that I used [along with other friends] used to lend DVDs too, yet this was a massive mistake. Upon going around to his house I would discover my DVDs scattered all over his room so even being used as drink coasters! DRINK COASTERS … people? What the fuck was he thinking? These were exceptional Films and Stand Up, it’s not like I lent him Twilight. This friend’s house later became known as ‘The DVD Graveyard; Where DVDs Go To Die’, although that didn’t really make sense looking back on it, people don’t go to graveyards to die. People go to graveyards when they’re already dead. It should have been; ‘The DVD Euthanasia Centre; Where DVDs Go To Die’.

I did the correct thing in this situation and demanded my DVDs back. Although at this point my temper had reached such a point that mere dialogue was no longer able to flow from my mouth and I could only express my needs [for my DVDs to be returned] by taking a baseball bat to his TV and shitting on his sofa.

But it’s not just people disrespecting my DVDs, if I see an individual remove their own DVD from the DVD Player and not put it in the correct case I look at them as if they’ve just put a cat in the microwave and started cackling at the sight of the cat’s bones deforming and it’s eyes oozing out of it’s skull.

Proper DVD etiquette is vital in this day and age. If we go around not putting DVDs in their correct cases or leaving them by the DVD player in no case at all, then the terrorists have won! Is that what you want? If you leave a DVD out of the case you are basically inviting Osama Bin Laden in to your house. Think about that the next time you watch a DVD.

Ashtrays for Ash

This one is simple, real simple. An ashtray, a simple ashtray has one primary use; it is for ash and cigarettes nubs [or butts, as some people call them]. That’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

An ashtray is not for the plastic film that is wrapped around a new packet of cigarettes. So don’t open a new packet and drop the plastic film into the ashtray because when I go to flick my ash into the ashtray [the primary use of an ASHtray] I don’t want that plastic film melting onto my cigarette. My lungs are already taking a beating from the tar; I don’t want to inhale burning plastic film too.

Upon finishing a packet of cigarettes do not scrunch up the packet and throw it into the ashtray. An ashtray is not a mini bin. I repeat; an ashtray IS NOT a mini bin. A scrunched up cigarette packet takes up most of the space in an ashtray leaving it difficult for the ashtray to act out its primary use. Also, don’t put unused Rizla papers in an ashtray either; they just burn when they come into contact with the cherry of a cigarette. I smoke to inhale burning tobacco, not burning paper.

Other things that shouldn’t be put in an ashtray; used lighters, chewing gum, bits of beer mats, tissue, used condoms, dead pets, baby teeth, jumbo jets … basically nothing other than ash (from a cigarette or joint – don’t try tipping your cremated uncle in an ashtray, I will act violently), cigarette nubs and maybe a used match, but that’s it. Got it? Good!

People that Drink MY BEER

Belittle my culture. Chastise my political views. Denounce my beliefs. Criticize my work. Demean my dress sense. Rubbish my taste in music. Degrade my entire way of life. Condemn my religion. Shag my girlfriend. Slap my mum. Kick my dog. Key my car. Rob my house. Take my life.

But under no circumstances drink my beer.

That’s all I have to say on that topic, no rant needed.

Mild Irritations (Volume One)

Now regular readers will know that I’m not the type of person that’s easily rubbed up the wrong way (pun intended). Yes, there are a few aspects of modern life that irritate me to the point of total despise for them; Starbucks, Primark, Capitalism, Tories and Civilisation as a whole, yet there are a couple of other nagging aspects that niggle away at me.

Lateness

Time is a construct, probably one of the greatest, most mind-boggling, mathematical subjects ever. I have no idea how some smart bastard all those years ago decided how many seconds would go in a minute and how many minutes would go in a hour and how many hours would go in a day … (I could carry on, but I’m assuming you get the picture). Time as a working concept is brilliant, we should all knee before its absolute awesomeness. The thing is, plenty of humans inhabiting this water-filled rock hurtling through space, can’t seem to work around time’s confines. I can forgive a few minutes here and there, but if you’re over 15 minutes late we have a serious problem. Being late irritates me to the point that I don’t want to be conceived as someone that is late, so I often turn up early, so if I’m meeting someone that is late, they may be 15 minutes late, but I could have been waiting around 25-20 minutes for them. Those fucking scumbags! Time is important, much like your virginity; once it’s gone, it’s gone FOREVER. It’s also like your virginity because you often lose it on the wrong person.

“Well you know me, I’m always late!”
- Some Cunt

Yes, I do know you. I know you’re always late. You know you’re always late! Why don’t you fucking make it so you can be in the designated meeting place at the designated time? It’s on you to turn up on time; it’s not on me to turn up late. 8.00pm! 8.00pm! We agreed to meet at this time, you fuckwit. It’s not a rough estimate. It’s the chosen time!

When my pizza is delivered late, I get it for free. So maybe people that arrive to meet me late should give me something. What that something would be, I don’t know. I assume I’d have to decide because if someone is unable to understand the simple task of being at a certain place at a certain time they’re probably lacking the brain cells to decide on a gift to present me with.

Of course, I have to make exceptions for my loved ones. Not my mother, nor my girlfriend, but for the one and only; Adam French (my BFAM; Brother From Another Mother). Adam French is to lateness what Bill Hicks was to stand-up, what Pele was to football, what George Best was to drinking and what Ben Broughton is to premature ejaculation. Not only has he took turning up late to new levels, he has redefined it to preposterous, unconceivable dimensions. He has thrown off the previous shackles of time that all other humans live by, instead he conducts his day according to his own time; ‘Frenchie Time’. He may say he’ll meet you at 6.00pm Sunday, and you may not see him until 4.00am Saturday, it’s just the gamble you take.

So there we have it, people turning up late is a mild irritation. A major irritation, to the point you think you may have to change your name and flee the country is; periods being late! A late period is around a BILLION times worse than a simple individual turning up late.

Mismatching Cutlery

We are a civilised people. We no longer dine by forcing food down our gullet with our bare hands, unless eating fast-food, snacks or fruit. We have knives, forks and spoons. These utensils make it easier to eat such things as roast dinners, too keep our hands from getting burned or all horrible and sticky. Obviously this is something I have become accustomed to. Yet, I do prefer my knife and fork too match. And when I say “prefer”, I mean “NEED”. I’m not a fucking barbarian, who serves up food and gives out cutlery that doesn’t match? Idiots! I understand at this point I may come across as some sort of up-tight, pompous toff, but I’m not, I’m far from it. I don’t need everyone’s cutlery to be the same as each other; I don’t care if their knives and forks match individually. I just need mine to be identical.

Here I should provide you with a reason. But alas, there isn’t one. It’s just the bloody way it is, OK? There’s no deep routed disturbance at work. It’s not like my father left my mother one day after sitting down to dinner to discover his knife and fork displayed different patterns. Nothing in my life has affected me in a way that I have any feasible reason or justification to have such an irritation, I just need it too be that way, it makes dining a much more enjoyable experience. Try it and you’ll agree.