Far as I know, you can't adjectivise a verb; a verb needs an adverb - it should be Think: different or Think differently.
Think different is shit.
I
go to sleep at night - when I go to sleep at all - worrying about a
chap in a TeeVee commercial. He's not very bright and he has a
demanding daughter, you know the type, the country's plagued with the
little bastards, gotta have a gap year, le grand tour de nos jours, before she goes to Uni.
If
I was Seckaterry of State for Education I would ban this practice; if
you need a year's holiday after meaningless A levels and before you
start a degree then you're not up to it, most of them aren't up to it,
anyway, after Blair's Uni
Revolution, few graduates can frame a sentence; I'd say to
GapYearBrats, you've got a place, take it up and work like Hell or fuck
off and get a proper job, even if you're taking out a loan it costs
taxpayer money to maintain higher education; if you'd rather be on
holiday then fuck off, learn a trade and do something useful, you can't
just interrupt the study mechanism, go fucking and drinking around the
world and then carry-on studying as though nothing had happened,
besides, your life is a fucking holiday, you don't need another one, you
cheeky fucking bastard.
It
is no wonder that employers are all a-whine about graduates hardly
being able to spell their own increasingly preposterous names, now that
they, by virtue of their undergraduacy consider themselves entitlementistas.
But
I suppose the gap-year brat is just an extension of Thatcher's
property-owning democracy bollocks, in which people shackle themselves
to a tiny, rudely built and unimaginably over-valued house, one they can
only afford by both of them working their arses off, and then when it's
paid for, selling it to pay for social care - to be bullied and abused,
pinched and prodded, wrongly medicated and left in piss-soaked bedding
by very welcome, culturally enhancing and totally necessary Polish
immigrants, without whom we simply cannot do, the fucking horrible
bastards, smirking that they've come here to make better life, no; and so everybody bend over or get out of their way. Why don't they stay and make better life in fucking Poland, eh? Why not make Poland better place. Making better place
was what Britons did, after the Hitler war, fought on behalf of Poles
and French and Dutch and countless others, all now berating Brits for
their temerity in wanting to leave Greater Germany.
Scottish
catering is full of them, Poles, and everywhere you go in hotels and
restaurants there're little saucers with pound coins in them, so's we
can help these horrible fuckers make better life by giving them
free money, as well as free health care and education. Oh, but mr
ishmael, they work so hard. No, they fucking don't, they just say they
do; they can't even speak English most of them, and they make that your fault, you should learn Polish to help Magda make better life. I
knew a Magda, in social care, she was a liar, a cheat, an incompetent,
a right monster, hostile, belligerent; a bully, untrainable, every
constructive suggestion eschewed as being inspired only by racism - is
because I am Pole, that you criticise.
For
now, anyway, those like my man in the Apple advert, well, their
half-wit spawn need supporting through their three- or four-year course
because, quite rightly, no grants are available for hairdressing and
leisure studies, and, in the case of this poor sap, they need supporting
on a one-year world holiday, too. And then the kids -
DoAnyfin'4'Em,Me - need help with the starter-home down-payment, y'know
to help them get their foot on the housing gallows. And to drive-up the
prices for everyone else.
What
Dad does, anyway, is allow himself to be dragged into an Apple store to
get his kid some gap-year tech, a sales assistant talks to him for all
of about two and a half seconds and he purchases an Apple I-pad Pro,
so's his horrid little monster can send all her so-called friends movies
of herself, dossing all over the world, and do whatever the fuck else
it is you can do with an i-Pad. It's over nine-hundred quid, this piece
of junk, and he just says Oh Yeah, Will This DoYa Love?
We
own our house, we own our cars, everything which we own we really own;
we have no dependent children and an above-average income but it'd be a
long cold day in Hell before I paid a grand for a tablet, even for
myself.
I
already have an i-Pad, one with no apps, and I am continuously
receiving billing enquiries, threats to cut me off because I don't use
the AppStore. I really do believe that Apple and Facebook and Twitter
are an insidious consumer tyranny, le totalitairianisme consumeriste
nouvelle. That the TeeVee is used to define good parenting as the
gifting to non-productive children of Apple's current model is not only
wicked in itself but is a slap in the face - another one - for the
majority of parents, who are unable to spend so extravagantly.
According
to HMRC the average UK salary is £28K on which tax of £6K is paid. The
average house costs notionally £288K but over a 30-year mortgage will
actually cost £630 K, so, assuming that inflation rises at the same
rate as the house repayments, and that the resale value of the house,
once paid for, reaches more than the £630K it actually cost - this is
the hope upon which house ownership is now built, that howevermuch it
cost a house can be sold for more - we can assume that AppleDad's
residential care costs adjusted for that inflation will be about £3k a
week, and if he and Mrs AppleMum both need care then the proceeds of
their house sale will cover barely two years' residential care, unless,
of course, they transfer ownership of the gaff to Little Poppet, which,
if they do, should see them jailed, in my IMHO.
Assuming
longevity for all, apart from Gnasher's Glaswegians, the very best use
of one's earnings would be to rent as cheaply as possible and spend any
spare money on having nice cars and other sorts of fun because by
stepping on the housing gallows you are only saving money with which to
pay for dubious care and regular bullyings and mistreatments by people
being paid the minimum wage in care homes, whilst obsessing about making better life
- the kind run by Mad Mick Fallon, before he became War Minister.
This, of course, is why there are no council homes to speak of and why
the property-owning democracy is a myth created to serve private
enterprise and discourage workers from quite rightly going on strike.
The stake of the stakeholder in the property market is actually one to
which he is tied.
As
well as the abolition of decent, affordable council housing, Junky
George Osborne and That Albino Cunt Johnson made London a money laundry
for International Crime; gangsters park their money in over-priced
housing stock, forcing
unaffordable price rises in homes formerly occupied by ordinary
workers. This unwelcome trend is now spreading to provincial cities and
towns, with the blessings of national government, local mayors and
councils, all of whom will be on the take, as usual.
All our democratic masters are happy, as long as the myth of AppleMan is meat and drink to those poor but Aspiring.
Aspirational,
it was one of Cameron's favourite words, him, the one with the family
money, or some of it, in an offshore tax haven, he loved to describe the
voters as Aspirational, meaning poor and stupid, believing that
they, too, can be filthy rich, even though the number of rich people
has to be strictly limited, otherwise what's the point of it, there
have to be far more poor people than rich people, otherwise the
rich people cease being special and become almost like poor people, only
with money, and what would be the point of that? If everyone had
lots of money then what would be the point of Lewis Hamilton, people'd
think he was a fucking lunatic, he's got loads of money and here he is,
risking his life, driving like a nutcase, he could be roasted alive,
what's the point of that? And if pretty young women were rich then why
would they want to snuggle-up to a suicidal lunatic with a bizarrely
stupid beard, whose greatest thrill is squirting champagne over other
suicidal lunatics, only not as suicidal as him, because he's the world's
champion suicidal lunatic. And as for Mutant Murray, well, if everyone
had money then nobody'd go and watch him, punching himself, having
Turette's Syndrome and smashing his racket to pieces, climbing into the
crowd and snogging his own mother. And if everyone had money then
everytime Prince Brian opened his gob he'd get a fist in it or a boot.
Keeps things in proper order, it does, most of us being skint, and only a
few of us being minted.
But Cameron's approval of aspirational voters is nothing to do with equality because an aspiration,
by definition, is something in the future, you're never actually going
to be rich, you just dream about it, like winning the Lottery. Aspirationalism
is Cameron's form of the American Dream, in which the citizen is
permitted, encouraged, to dream, whilst his masters shit in his face and
use his tongue for toilet paper. In that We Shall Overcome nonsense, it
is the Shall, that counts, We Shall Overcome, one day, overcoming is an aspiration not a certainty; aspirationalism is a form of SOMA, whose active properties take away brutal, impoverished reality, for a time, and substitute a waking dream.
If
properly aspirational all you gotta do is not rock the boat, live in a
house you don't own, even though you pay for it two or three times
over; drive a car you don't own and borrow the petrol money at 28% per
annum, if you're lucky; accept that your bosses, who don't actually do
anything other than fuck things up, require substantial payrises and
that you, actually, because of things you don't understand, must work
for less and less each year; that way you can be properly aspirational,
aspiring to get into even more debt so that you are able to raise
useless, ineducable children and buy them expensive and unnecessary love
tokens, on borrowed money, just like my man in the Apple ad. And
better still, Apple, like all successful initiatives, is, as a matter
of principle, fully committed to not paying any UK tax on its sales of
the Apple Dream. What could be better than borrowing money in order to
support an industry which doesn't help pay for schools and hospitals?
You only have to Google "Average Incomes" to discover armies of Mrs Askey's, what is it, JAMs, those JustAboutManaging.
These
aren't the couples doing half a dozen disgraceful zero-hours minimum
wage jobs in which we, the taxpayers, support the robbing-bastard
employers with tax credits, so's they don't have to waste money on
proper wages; these JAMs are married couples, both with
expensive-sounding job titles - systems analysts and senior sales
executives - earning between them about £50K and once they've paid
mortgage, child care, grocery, credit card and car costs they haven't
got a pot to piss in, never mind a grand to spend on a kid's tablet.
Neither the abused zero-hours workers or the twin careerists can afford
such a thing, although the Apple advert would make you think it was
just perfectly natural, a casual purchase.
From
2001-2016 average wages have risen by less than 3% whilst the costs of
housing, food, fuel and energy have rocketed. During that same period
MPs have weathered the exposure of their expenses crime spree and still
managed to increase the own wages by 30%.
MPs
still manage the impudence of second and third jobs, Michael Spit, MP,
this week, working-away for Mr Murdoch, interviewing Donald Trump, and
writing for the Times regularly;
 |
The MP for Surrey Heath attends to his constituents' interests
|
his
must be a blessed constituency, enabling him to let it care for itself,
while he earns a crust, an activity made cruelly necessary, by him only
being on £80k, plus food, clothing, IT, postage, travel, housing,
bungs, bribes and freebies, the cheeky cunt.
Despite
massive and unprecedented rises in the costs of living, despite static
or falling incomes, zero return on savings and soaring personal debt
we allow ourselves to be persuaded that inflation is running at between
one and two per cent when effectively it is ten or twenty times that;
just as we allow Apple to persuade us that their devices, produced by
slave labour in China, are simply essential to the proper development of
our precious consumer children.
The
reality - rather than the aspiration - is that a proper society would
hound the Apple trash-people into the Thames and burn their bright,
shiny shops to the ground. As it is, the Apple adverts will continue to
taunt those outside the charmed circle of discretionary, disposable
income, whilst its owners will continue to brazenly evade lawful
taxation to which the rest of us are compelled by fear of
imprisonment.
Stop me if I've mentioned this before but Apple founder and whiz-kid, Steve Jobs, was a pathetic Bob Dylan freak,
he could never get near Bob but when a chance came up to date his fellow-Californian, Joan Baez -
Dylan's cruelly humiliated former lover -
Stevie jumped at the chance.
Weird, really, but then he was.
One day billionaire Stevie said,
Hey,
babe, I saw this really cool little French dress, in a couturier's
over in Santa Barbara, wanna take a ride over and have a look? Baez says
that she thought what any woman would think in that situation but when
she did him a twirl in his recommended garment he said, Yeah, I was
right, it does suit you, Joanie, you really should buy it.
Now, that's what you call Thinking Different.
