The Conspiracy Collectors.

"Duh..."

Somewhere on Earth; most likely in the heartland of America’s deep-south, a bored redneck believes a 78-year-old Elvis Presley is still alive; spending his days as a retired FBI agent after faking his death, in order to switch from the position of global superstar singer, to covert government enforcer. This same guy will also tell you John Lennon still lives as a 63-year-old monk, George Bush junior is a shape-shifting alien, and Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls run TuSmalls; a hamburger joint deep in the heart of the Canadian mountains. The beauty of his bizarre warblings, no matter how much evidence you present on the contrary to destroy his theories; his mind shall never change. 

Conspiracy theorists are separated into two types. Type one, is the highly-intelligent being; aware that governments bullshit, money dominates human nature, and the world of celebrity is essentially a carefully crafted work of selling people as products; for all their success, One Direction are little more than a Simon Cowell created boy brand. This is not a criticism of Harry, Jack, Bob and the boys – or whatever their names are; they are living the dream and seem like nice fellas; but really they could be anyone – such is the power of the machine of promotion. Type one has a cynical nature, but is harmless and grounded; rarely reaching beyond theories of faked moon-landings, internal 9/11 set-ups, and the assassination of Marilyn Monroe; which all carry their own weight.

Type two is the real loser. These dudes convince themselves they know a secret so unique, exclusive and surprising, the membership number is countable on one hand; those who know the REAL truth about life. They talk about historical events all being acts of distorted aliens; and not stupid humans, read every work of New World Order and Illuminati nonsense they can lay their burger sauce covered fingers on, and will tell anyone dumb enough to listen, that these controllers of the world are out to kill them; because they know the REAL truth, you see.

The trouble is, there are two obvious arguments to suggest these guys are nothing more than attention seeking whack-jobs. The first is that a true conspiracy only works when every last person involved keeps quiet. That is every last person who is aware of the hidden-reality; friends, family, random ears, neighbours, pets, the neighbour's pets, you name it. Human beings are an ego driven animal, and in an age where anyone can say anything online; and usually do, surely at least one detractor somewhere would come out of their lizard shells, and speak these ills we know little of. They never do. I am sure our conspiracy redneck friends would remind you these Benedict Arnolds are either paid to keep quiet or killed, but what about the window between their frustration and the solution? Nothing – not a German sausage. I am sure even shape-shifting aliens have emotionally driven, knee-jerk off days; especially dangerous when jabbering on Twitter.

"The Queen is an alien.... buy my book!"

The second point is stronger. Conspiracy theorists always carry a collection of similarities; poor with bad jobs – or no job, bad health, ugly, socially backward, no friends, bad-teeth, worse breath, and a million miles from female company – ever notice there are zero female conspiracy theorists? Probably because it is easier for them to find sex. These loser males have too much time and too little purpose; creating all manner of silly shit, to draw attention to their lack of it. 

Why do wealthy businessmen, actors, doctors, or even the billions of normal people living normal lives, never suddenly decide that Jimi Hendrix sold his soul to Robert Johnson’s devil, in order to play like a demon? Or tomatoes are placed in burgers – and most foods, to control our minds? The only exception to this rule is former Snooker commentator David Icke. This is the same David Icke who has made millions of pounds writing books explaining how we are all being lied to; much more economically viable than discussing Willie Thorne’s cue action with Ray Reardon, in a hush voice.

While I believe there are many facets of life, we as a collective species have very little knowledge of. Those who actually know this information are unlikely to be free-talking, redneck, keyboard jockeys, with a crappy job or no job, and woman-free for decades - or entire lifetimes, in some cases. There is no secret society, there are just billions of humans running around pretending to know the answers; while not really even knowing the questions. Who knows, maybe those rednecks secretly control the world and are working us all, by pretending to be incredibly stupid. That would make more sense, than most of the shit they come up with...

Lee.

A Kick Up The Arsenal.

Someone needs to remind Arsene Wenger that the iPhone outgrew the Motorola Razr, as the standard phone of choice, some years ago. They need to point him in the direction of Facetime, whatsapp, and the mass of multi-functional tools within the handset, which make any mobile created before 2007 feel like a standard VHS player; an original daddy of design in its day, now an oversized piece of shit gathering dust under the stairs. If they did this, perhaps it may help him understand that while great men create original ideas, even greater men are able to break them down, and build completely new ones…

Only a fool - or a bitter Tottenham fan, would dare question the genuine stamp of legacy, Arsene Wenger will leave on the Premier League; once he no longer takes helm at the Emirates. Creatine led player diets, basic tactical formations repeated to death until they became automatic, and cultivating teenagers through a youth system; purely to mould them into a physical and psychological ethos of the Arsenal way, are just a few examples of Wenger’s almost genius of innovation in mangement.

Not just this, but here is a man not only responsible for handing these shores the gifts of Thierry Henry, Patrick Vieria, Robin Van-Persie, Samir Nasri, Cesc Fabregas, and Robert Pires - to name a few, but also for carrying a squad through an entire season - in one of the world’s most competitive leagues, unbeaten; not even Alex Ferguson, Brian Cough, Matt Busby, Sir Bobby Robson, or Terry Connor, managed that. He has also secured Arsenal financially; for quite a few years at least. And yet, through all the accolades which half-a century from now will rightly be all we remember him for, much like the original Motorola Razr will forever remain stuck in the world of 2004, Arsene Wenger seems to have the exact same problem. 

Arsenal’s modus operandi has not changed an ounce, since a fresh-faced Wenger arrived in 1996. Scout young talent from across the globe, breed them into world class players, play them, then win trophies. For the first eight years, it worked well; it worked very well. Arsenal filled their cabinet with almost every trophy they fought for, and managed it playing some of the most delicious football the game has ever seen. But much like the iPhone implemented elements that made the Razr so popular for its own benefit, competitors copied the methods which made the Wengerboys so successful; Chelsea, Manchester City... Barcelona in 2013, are basically Arsenal in 2003. 

Flash forward a decade, and all these sides have not just caught up, but coupled with strong financial backing and the ability to move with the times, have eclipsed a side whose manager seems to flat out refuse to do the same; believing his trusted old Razr will still defeat the power of an iPhone; it won’t. Add this to the fact his young, impressionable players are looking at distant iPhone’s, while holding their Razr’s; realising it doesn’t have Instagram or live video streaming... is it any wonder that before the beginning of this 2013/2014 season, twenty-three players left the club, and only one arrived? Faced with a problem which is only going to continue, it leaves Wenger with only two rational options; change and move forward, or stay the same, and fall further behind. 

Arsenal are not a sinking ship, but they are one which is getting rustier and older by the day, and in desperate need of a captain. Each season they diminish an inch deeper, and for a club with one of the more patient fan bases out there, even the most ardent of Wenger admirers know his method of thinking needs to change. The Suarez bid was a positive gesture, but it seemed little more than that, a gesture. Wenger is a very intelligent man, but time has a habit of closing even the deepest of minds. And it doesn’t take long for a once tried and tested formula of success, to become the exact same tired and testy formula of failure. 

As a brand and global corporation, Arsene Wenger has built Arsenal into a stable product, very few managers could even begin to cultivate. As a football club, however, evolution has outgrown Wenger’s stoic, business model mentality. Financial acumen provides a stable future, but in that future, the only thing a club is remembered for, is how many trophies it wins. If Arsene Wenger is saving for a rainy day, he needs to glance out the window. Because Manchester United and co are carrying umbrellas, and for the majority of Arsenal fans right now; it’s pissing it down; and has been for the past nine years.  

Nobody uses a Motorola Razr anymore. 

Lee Gunnell.

The Internet Files - Day Seven: Jobs Worth.

"Steve Jobs, with an apple"

Come 2113, only a few builders of the basic foundations of computer technology, will be remembered. This is nothing personal; nature dictates that people of a perceived lesser significance, fade with each passing generation. However, a select few survive, and eventually become status symbols for both the age they lived in, and the inventions they worked on. The prime candidates in this field include former Microsoft kingpin, Bill Gates. Creator of the world-wide-web, Tim Berners-Lee. And perhaps more than anyone else, co-founder of Apple – and Godfather of all things computer, Steve Jobs.

Think about this for a moment. In 1973, the height of technology was 8-track and the Stylophone. Computers were little more than over-elaborate calculators; sparse, expensive, and the size of a transit van. For people of the 70’s, the notion of super-intelligent Smartphones sitting in their pockets, was the stuff of extreme science-fiction fantasy; as ludicrous as it was ridiculous. Yet somehow, our species went from that reality, to this one. This is where Steve Jobs came in. Human curiosity was always going to allow the technological bridges between these timelines to be built. It is just as one of their main architects, Jobs created structures as intricate as they were progressive.

Without Steve Jobs, the iPhone wouldn’t exist. The same goes for iPads, the iPod, iTunes, Macbooks, and any number of multi-functional computer products used by the millions on a daily basis; hardware and software. While it is true certain elements of these ideas existed in other products, it was Jobs who possessed the ability to utilize, market, and combine them into what we generally take for granted as current technology; connecting dots to form a whole most people couldn’t even imagine, yet alone turn into a physical product.

As a personality, he was – like all great minds of history, impossible to categorize. Overwhelmingly forward thinking, charismatic, idiosyncratic, and stubborn, he came across as a sort of deeply philosophical post 1970’s John Lennon; who loved computers and ran a billion dollar company. A mind some may have found as fascinating as they did frustrating, and carrying hippie ideals at his core, Jobs was more artist than scientist. This counteracted his methodical, very Japanese business approach; discover a fresh idea, absorb every useful ounce from any source he could – which was where the real hard work set in. Copy it, improve it, finish it, release it, and then set the standard for the next stage of invention. All the while wearing a black turtle-neck sweater tucked into trainer-led blue jeans; like most great computer brains, his fashion sense left a lot to be desired.

He didn’t always meet with great success. The Apple Lisa flopped, and in 1985 was voted out of the company he created; rejoining in 1997, after Apple’s decade of disaster. But even then – much like the Newton is forgotten for being the first tablet on the market, the Lisa is forgotten for being the first computer to have its own monitor and mouse function; the standard bearer, until laptops took over. Even where Jobs failed in the short term of innovation, he helped ignite a flame, beneficial to the grander scheme of things. Even till his dying day, he never stopped pushing forward; a type of passion impossible to teach anybody, and even harder to explain to the uninitiated.

Jobs passed away from cancer in 2011, at the still mentally fresh age of 56. Much like the songs John Lennon may have written in the 80's, or the roles River Phoenix would have nailed in the 90's, we shall never know how much progressive innovation Jobs would have created over the coming years; it is believed voice recognition software, was one he wanted to crack. He gave more to the world in thirty years of radical imagination, than most can muster in three thousand years of yielding to tired modes of thinking. He possessed a truly incredible, free-thinking mind, and I would highly recommend anyone interested in humanities, business, or philosophy, to check out any of the wide range of interviews and presentations he gave in his lifetime.

Perhaps the deepest imprint on the world left by Steve Jobs, had very little to do with technology, and is a more human gift; the message to simply think for ourselves. He wasn’t always liked, was often accused of plagiarism, overt ruthlessness, and neglecting his family life; which he admitted he was at times guilty of on all accounts. However, no one can argue against how the man lived his life, his way; something I believe every human being alive should strive to do. Steve Jobs was the Thomas Edison of the baby-boomers. He was also one of the few genuine people of the last century; I would personally label a genius. And if none of this satisfies you enough? All I can say is this; in 1986 he bankrolled a young, computer animation company, struggling to survive. It's name was Pixar...

Thank you for reading The Internet Files. 

Lee.

The Internet Files - Day Six: Porn.

"Fake Boobs"

Somewhere in this world, a hormonal teenage boy secretly masturbates to transsexual midget pornography. Somewhere else, others do the same; each viewing any number of scenes involving odd sexual fetish material. They watch morbidly obese Afro-Caribbean twins, anthropomorphic animation, blondes in bondage whipped by geriatrics – and the other way around, and all manner of bizarre couplings. If you can imagine It, it’s out there online; the list unquestionably filthy, and essentially, endless. In the 21^st century, not only is hardcore pornography available on tap, it is also private, limitless, and at the mercy of whatever form of fornication material, any young – or old pervert, readily desires.

Before the Internet exploded, porn was a scarce notion of smut, used primarily by virgin teenage boys to sate their wildfire libidos and hour long boners. Without the agony of choosing between endless online scenes of couples having sex, their answers came in the forms of tame midnight movies on television, cheap 1980’s skin-flicks floating around on VCR, and most importantly, an active imagination; I once knew a guy who recorded the sound on visually encrypted soft porn station “The Fantasy Channel”, then viewed it later alone in his bedroom. The pornography available was clean, lightweight, and never kinkier than two lesbians and the odd latex costume; even a strap-on-dildo was a severe eye-opener. 

Looking back - and ignoring the harsh reality of life as a porn-star, it was a fairly healthy state of affairs. The psychological side of sex; role-playing, fetishes, and so forth, were reserved for experienced adults who understood why these preferences interested them, and boys didn’t talk about sex to each other beyond; “I’d give her one”. Besides this, once the majority of teenage boys reached adulthood and entered the dating pool, they had already discarded the Kleenex and the VCR, for a new breed of boys to take over; a simple cycle, but one which had continued since young males lusted over Michelangelo’s stationary porn on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, in the early sixteenth century.

Today, It is a whole different world of sex and psychology. If I am a thirteen-year-old boy today; with the same curiosities, hormones, and wild libido of any teenage generation. When I get home from school I am going straight to my bedroom; closing the curtains, grabbing a wad of toilet tissues, and searching for online porn. Shit, if brutally honest - if that kind of porn is available and I am thirteen? Besides for eating and toilet breaks, I’m never leaving my bedroom; much less opening the curtains to see the sunlight! As damaging and unhealthy as that sounds, how would I know better at such an age? I am sitting there with an Aladdin’s cave of fuck movies before my eyes, and a hard-on which never goes away; if it was the summer holidays, I’d never put my trousers back on.

And that is what scares me. Whatever anyone says, pornography is destructive to the developing mind of a child. It isn’t natural to watch two people having sex on a screen – at any age. It is also not as much corruptive having so much of it readily available, as to the specific level of choice and preference available; watching two soft-core lesbians get it on is one thing, having over a hundred fake-rape and randy octogenarian clips at the power of your fingertips, is pretty fucking scary – especially if you have children. 

There isn’t a current solution to internet porn. Governments seek to ban it, but only do so as an excuse to take away our fundamental freedoms online; which I feel is vital to retain, at this point in history. Future technology; which I believe will grow in conjunction as the internet separates aspects of itself; much like a developing society, will likely make it harder to access porn. Until then, however, how do you stop a horny kid viewing this stuff in the comfort of his own bedroom or Smartphone? 

Perhaps porn is no different to the myriad of advertising, music videos, television shows, magazines, and such, which sexualise, degrade, and objectify women in a much more passive yet equally psychologically damaging matter, than porn does so blatantly. Maybe the issue is not one in which we have so much natural desire to see sex, as opposed to the reality we are taught – on both sides of the gender, that there really is nothing more important to a human being, than how fuckable they are. Who knows? It's an ongoing issue. And for those of you who clicked for the boobies? Thank you for proving that point…

Lee.