Why Walker

What’s in a name?

When I was 10 years old I decided I wanted to change my surname.

When I was 14 years old I decided to change my name.

When I was 15 years old, just before I sat my ‘O’levels, I changed it.

It was easy to change it then: I just told all my teachers to change my name on their registers, and I didn’t need to fill out legal documents cos I was under 18.

That was 1982

I had all my qualifications in my new surname along with my driving licence and bank account. I never bothered getting my passport changed after my original birth certificate was lost in the post and put me off posting important documents.

My new name was on my replacement birth certificate anyway because I’d changed my surname to my mother’s maiden name.

The reason I wanted to change my surname when I was 10 years old was due to being teased at school. Not by my peers but by a teacher (who will remain nameless here).

My name was David Wong. The teacher went through the register ridiculing the Ahmed’s, the Mohammed’s and the Pratt’s and then got to last name, mine, and called me “Ching-Chong, Wing-Wong, from Hong Kong, who always gets everything wrong”! Fekking hilarious! An incredible climax to an amazing rendition of the class register. I think mine was the most hilarious at the time but after laughing along with the rest I must have decided that in hindsight I didn’t find it as funny as it was cruel. It was a good lesson though, and taught me how labels can be a disadvantage. (rascism was an accepted norm in those days). (as was homophobia, the teachers name was Mr Gaye)

So at 14-15, I changed my surname from Wong to Walker. Still got teased by my so-called mates though, who thought, and still think, that Walker-Wanker is an hilarious nick-name.

What’s the point? Well I suppose there isn’t one. Being over-sensitive about being labelled is perhaps more of a disadvantage than having a ridiculous name and the more ridiculous you appear the more ridiculous you become. When I was Wong, I felt Wrong and it felt like a self fulfillling prophecy. Now I’m 52 and have been Dave Walker for 36-7  years, my knees and back are ceasing up with osteoarthritis and soon, I will no longer be able to walk.....er.

Shit

dklw.co.uk

Ants

I've learnt nearly everything I know about the Human Race from watching Ants (not the film, the real insects), nearly, and I realise now that I don't wanna be one. (an Ant, not a human, although Being Human (not the film) ain't all that desirable sometimes, at least we are at the top of the Animal Mountain. unlike Ants.

• Ants seem to spend there Whole Lives going back and forth from one place to another.
• Humans seem to spend there Whole Lives going back and forth from one place to another.
• Ants are like a Virus; devouring and colonizing everything they can.
• Humans are like a Virus; devouring and colonizing everything they can.

There are over 10000 known species of ants.


There is only 1 known species of human which probably means We are not native to Earth.
probably.


Don't tread on an ant, he's done nothing to you and there may come a time when he's treading on you. 


 - and if you believe that you're a deluded idiot stuck in the eighties like me and 'troubled star' Stuart Goddard.


p.s. I'm only writing this rubbish blog again cos my ps3 is broke.

I accidently read an article in the Economist

rite. was gonna write some spiel on the Unification of the Arab States but decided this was boring and 'though i love tryin to scare amerikans (just coz They think everyones scared of Them)  i am no longer a teenage punkster.

Instead, I have decided to rant about Muslin. I HATE Muslin. It's pathetic. like cheezecloth. pointless. can't even make t-bags outta it. and looks silly when worn as headgear. Not that i have anything against Turbans. (tho i hate Fez's - very silly hats). Tommy Cooper I think, summed this up by saying ' Ali Bongo must Die, (just like that)', and, just like that, he did. Not Ali, Tommy.

But anyway, Muslin is shite. Poy-oi-oi-nt. Less. Materialistic Material defined by a 70's kitsch wot duzznt exist. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitsch. but i thort kitsch was an 80's word that didn't even exist in the 70's so no-one even knew that what they were creating was going to be considered of low value...but it seems I was wrong again after researching the word....  but that's another thing i hate... words - umbrella words that define a whole time period/cultural reference that didn't exist until afterwards. like Pre-Post-Future-Modernism (i made that one up), or STRESS!.  Stress didn't exist in the 70's. It was called Anxiety and came in 'Attacks'. Nowadays, it's part of the human condition. Another phrase i hate. ' the Human Condition'. What a load of twaddle!

But this is actually all Bollox and I don't believe a word i'm saying. I actually LOVE Muslin. It's great. I think we should make tents outta it and paint pictures onnit. It would make good parachute material on the moon and look nice. And... I really think the Arab states; Morocco, Mauritania, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Palestine, Lebanon, Egypt, Syria, Sudan, Jordan, Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi, Qatar, Yemen, Djibouti, Somalia, Comoros, Oman, Bahrain and even the so called United Arab Emirates so UNIFY and UNITE and sell all us other 'poor' cuntries some subsidized OIL!

in reaction to Jacob James Valentine Walkers filthy habit of Ranting

in reaction to Jacob James Valentine Walkers' filthy habit of Ranting. Smoking is good. 

Especially when it causes some abstract 'random' females to react like goody-goodies.

I must have wanted to write the very same thing for the past 30 years, only much less eloquently...

I must have also written a very close substitute to this rant over a dozen times in me silly likkle pre-blog, pre-intranet, pre-hysterical notebooks.  

I hate people telling me not to do what I know I'm not meant too even more than you. 

I live to annoy these people.

My whole existence depends upon these opinionated dictatorial arseholes own existence.

I could not exist if they didn't. My life would be meaningless.

Maybe I over-exaggerate.

Still bugs me tho. congrats on your inheritance! carry on.

I am JOB

TH ePhilosophy of WORK
a four letter word

the whole concept of work is abit weird. For me. But then. I’m weird. Apparently. But this is not about me. This is about the concept of work.

according to some revolutionary fascists – work will set u free.  Free from poverty perhaps. Which I suppose means money.  OR free from concentration camps. But going back to money.., Money equals living. Standards of  living. Standards of living directly linked to how much money you gain/possess/earn.

Contributing to society.  A society which some argue does not exist. But is it there to discuss. (or the concept is). Though work definitely does exist. Although in this vane, I would like to refer to it as a concept. Institutionalised into the pSychkeee, like Nazi racism.

Fundamentalist ethics from a Romanic order.

If you don’t work – you die. Of starvation. Of a lack of belonging. To ‘the’ society.

apparently.

A case to disprove this point.
My last 3½ week ‘Job’ (Job is a bloke in the bible and is an offshoot word from; Work’), was with a varying age of ‘clients’ who were totally incapable of ‘working’. But … because society has provided this loophole, their quality of living was better than most ‘working’ people.  This was due to the fact that they had problems. Problems which deemed them unable to contribute to a work obsessed society.  The State, the Government, and their parents/carers provided the means to pay for their lavish lifestyles.  But the ethics of ‘work’ was never explained to them because their brains were too limited to even speak properly. So the fact that I was working FOR/WITH these humans seemed more than just confusing as their particular concept of ‘work’ was a concept they must have understood to be exactly the same… A means to an ends. (but they didn’t seem to reason why anyone would want to ‘work’ FOR/WITH them.)

therefore – its more to do with the ends. Than the means.

The ends, I suppose, is just Survival. Survival in whatever form or situation it happens to be.

To function.  As opposed to dis-function. (seems like it should be spelt with a ‘dis’)
If you don’t work for something, (especially yourself) you are classified as dysfunctional. And if you don’t work for yourself, your a twat and spend your whole life slagging off your boss. Therefore if you function, you must be working. Paid or unpaid, ‘the ends’ are perceivable, and I suppose, obvious.

However. If you CHOOSE not to work. (To be dysfunctional), because you may be fortunate enough to be solvent or mentally ill, you may still experience stigma.  This stigma is mainly jealousy from those who are not in the position to choose not to ‘work’, but this is also perceived as arrogance by those who think you may be taking the piss.  Even if you’re highly qualified in your chosen field of expertise but there are no ‘jobs’ on offer or available to you without selling your soul to the devil, or learning another clause-laden language, and working for a revolutionary fascist. Or perhaps there just simply is a recession on (2009) and 300 people are going for one junior trainee coleslaw assistant apprentice post at MacDonalds and a 42 year old with a design degree is way too under-qualified in the demeanablity-subjugatory-maschochistic stakes to get past the ‘we don’t read your CV stage’ anyway.

Or maybe you just don’t come across as desparate enough.

Whatever the reason, the proof is in the lack of the rolly-polly-jam-pudding.

So, to understand the concept of ‘work’, you need to ‘get’,‘work’. To do this, you really need to know someone in ‘The Church of the Work Ethic Belief System, that you have previously duped into believing that you are one of them. This is apparently called networking. 

But if no-one likes you and won’t give you an opportunity to even speak to a person who may have a friend of a friend who might know someone who needs someone to do a minor chore which may lead to an opening of a mutual consensual snippet of banter for a few milliseconds with someone else, where you have your window of opportunity to flirt you tits off in the hope they may remember you and suggest to someone one day of a one-off task that might need doing in the future then that’s it.  As easy as that… you’ve got your foot on the rung of the step ladder to ultimate bliss fulfilment.. leading absolutely and definitely to ‘a job’. Which you could later interpret/label as ‘WORK’… and as my general concept of the ethos of work suggests… Work equals SUCCESS. And there it is. Easy as that! You now own your own piece of a place in the so-called ‘society’ and your pride in the position within it, is guaranteed, for as long as the ‘task’ asks.

Just make sure you don’t fuck it up by admitting you don’t really understand the whole concept of ‘work’ or they’ll think you’re an arrogant work-shy fop and sack you.

Which, on the other hand, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Although it does mean you won’t get any government support for 6 months afterwards. Which means you will probably have to resort to stealing food or begging or sell your children and being homeless, but it’s an experience. A bad one, but an experience.

And all experiences are good. Just don’t put the bad ones on your CV.

In fact, Do NOT write a CV. This is the whole point. Here lies the lies. Without the bollocks, the truth will out and the idealistic world I’m dreaming of, where everyone lives on love and free cheese, can survive in perfect harmony with Communism.
Thank you and good night.