Saturday, March 15, 2008
Monday, September 17, 2007
Reggae - 24 hours a day
To all Reggae fans, follow this link www.radioreggaetrade.com (or paste into your browser) for the finest 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year of non-stop musical paradise.
Reggae never fails to satisfy. From the upbeat sound of ska, to the down and dirty sound of dub. You've got the smooth vibes of roots or the club sound of dancehall and for the romantics, there's always lovers reggae. Which ever type of reggae you go for it always evokes feelings of contentment and relaxation. Gone are the worries, anxieties and other negatives vibes; replaced simply by Utopia.
Reggae never fails to satisfy. From the upbeat sound of ska, to the down and dirty sound of dub. You've got the smooth vibes of roots or the club sound of dancehall and for the romantics, there's always lovers reggae. Which ever type of reggae you go for it always evokes feelings of contentment and relaxation. Gone are the worries, anxieties and other negatives vibes; replaced simply by Utopia.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
The Must-Have Mortgage Race
"Quick", they tell you, "prices are rising, if you don't do it now you'll never get onto the property ladder". In fact, and to be fair, this is probably sound advice. Sound advice, indeed, if that's what your aspirations are. But why do it? In a rented apartment the maintenance is the responsibilty and hence, the cost of the landlord. Broken washing machine - no problem. Faulty radiators - no problem. Need a new carpet - "leave it with me" replies your caring landlord. Both my brother-in-law and stepfather recently replaced their boilers, somewhere around £1200 was the size of the hole burnt into each of their trouser pockets.
Of course it would be great to own your own property. Imagine, you can do what you want to it, just don't forget to pay for the associated bills that come along with it. The problem today is, how can first-time buyers get on the property ladder? For those that are lucky enough to find the first rung, well, then they're at the mercy of money grabbing landlords who want to sell you a stingy converted one-bedroom flat with plenty of plaster board to go with it.
So you get the flat, later you make some profit as the market value increases, "great, we've made thirty grand, lets get a bigger place". Problem? No problem. You buy somewhere with an extra bedroom. So the cycle repeats until the kids have flown the nest and you're left with your 'significant other' enjoying the rest of your days.
One of you leaves this world first; usually the man, sorry but that's just the way it is gentlemen. So mother has to fend for herself. Eventually the savings dry up as does mother's ability to live at home alone. Poor health requires mother to sell up and move into a nursing home; a real bargain at around £600 per week. That gives your mum about five years in the nursing home before all the money goes and by that time, they really don't want her occupying that nice double room that you've been paying for.
So what happened to all that wealth that accumulated from the mortgage? Well, it went to the owner of the nursing home; nice chap he is that one. The clever ones amongst us, however, made our parents sign the house over to us way before their health began to deteriorate. This ensuring that the authorities couldn't force us to use our parents money to foot the nursing home's atrocious weekly bills. Great, now the government has to pay the bill. But this time the nursing home provided isn't quite the place that you had expected to put your mother or father in; go visit one and you'll see what I mean. So what do you do? Give up the inheritance you were hoping for so that Mum and Dad can be put in a home that's at least half decent? Or forget about them, let them live in squalor while you enjoy that money that you been waiting a hell of a long time for? I guess we could always knock the parents off early.
Of course it would be great to own your own property. Imagine, you can do what you want to it, just don't forget to pay for the associated bills that come along with it. The problem today is, how can first-time buyers get on the property ladder? For those that are lucky enough to find the first rung, well, then they're at the mercy of money grabbing landlords who want to sell you a stingy converted one-bedroom flat with plenty of plaster board to go with it.
So you get the flat, later you make some profit as the market value increases, "great, we've made thirty grand, lets get a bigger place". Problem? No problem. You buy somewhere with an extra bedroom. So the cycle repeats until the kids have flown the nest and you're left with your 'significant other' enjoying the rest of your days.
One of you leaves this world first; usually the man, sorry but that's just the way it is gentlemen. So mother has to fend for herself. Eventually the savings dry up as does mother's ability to live at home alone. Poor health requires mother to sell up and move into a nursing home; a real bargain at around £600 per week. That gives your mum about five years in the nursing home before all the money goes and by that time, they really don't want her occupying that nice double room that you've been paying for.
So what happened to all that wealth that accumulated from the mortgage? Well, it went to the owner of the nursing home; nice chap he is that one. The clever ones amongst us, however, made our parents sign the house over to us way before their health began to deteriorate. This ensuring that the authorities couldn't force us to use our parents money to foot the nursing home's atrocious weekly bills. Great, now the government has to pay the bill. But this time the nursing home provided isn't quite the place that you had expected to put your mother or father in; go visit one and you'll see what I mean. So what do you do? Give up the inheritance you were hoping for so that Mum and Dad can be put in a home that's at least half decent? Or forget about them, let them live in squalor while you enjoy that money that you been waiting a hell of a long time for? I guess we could always knock the parents off early.
The Self-Proclaimed Elite
The self-proclaimed elite, those people that have achieved something in life and, indeed, they have. I'm not talking about the mega financial successes in the world, the footballers, actors, supemodels etc. I'm talking about those people that we sit next to on the train, pass in the street, drink next to (or even worse, drink with) in the pubs, stand behind in the queue at HMV, Sainsburys or wherever it might be. Good tip: you probably won't find them in the McDonalds queue because they're too educated and smart to be caught in a place like that; maybe that's why I like McDonalds so much recently? They've been lucky enough to attend university, some of them going on to post-graduate study: MA's, MSC's and so forth. Now that they've been out of formal education for a while, having the opportunity to mature as a young adult and because of their mastery of the particular field in which they work - factor in with this that they have seen the 'real world' at some point with a wad of cash, two credit cards and that golden lotto ticket: the UK/British passport in their pocket - leads them to believe that they are superior in some way, shape or form to their fellow countrymen and anyone else that doesn't fit into their idea of a decent, educated, self-aware human being.
Yes, I've been to university and, lucky old me, I'm looking into the prospect of doing a Masters Degree in the near future and yes I too have been abroad with my little red EU passport armed with two credit cards to ensure my comfort and safety whilst globe-trotting. Hypocrite? No, I say with firm conviction. Why? Because I don't hold the same values and opinions as those that I refer to. I'm not in their cliquey little group. I have no desire to be.
Each individual of the SPE (self-proclaimed elite) has his or her own circumstantial niche of knowledge. This individual contribution of knowledge is what gains the respect of the collective. The SPE claim their deep understanding of global issues and daily suffering that occurs throughout our world. Their globe-trotting experiences together with further research back home allows us to witness their compassion for the under-privileged living and struggling in the developing world. Indeed, this is highly commendable, I too feel compassion for those much, much less fortunate than myself. However, the question I pose is this: Why, when it comes to their own kind i.e. nationality and race, do they switch into hard, cold-hearted classists with no desire to understand who their fellow countryman really is, prefering to disrespect him, close him off, leave him outside with no way of getting in?
Sixty odd years ago a similar, yet extreme version of this attitude, led to the execution of six million Jews. Am I living alongside modern day Nazis disguised as my local acquaintances, fellow commuters, neighbours and so called comrades?
Yes, I've been to university and, lucky old me, I'm looking into the prospect of doing a Masters Degree in the near future and yes I too have been abroad with my little red EU passport armed with two credit cards to ensure my comfort and safety whilst globe-trotting. Hypocrite? No, I say with firm conviction. Why? Because I don't hold the same values and opinions as those that I refer to. I'm not in their cliquey little group. I have no desire to be.
Each individual of the SPE (self-proclaimed elite) has his or her own circumstantial niche of knowledge. This individual contribution of knowledge is what gains the respect of the collective. The SPE claim their deep understanding of global issues and daily suffering that occurs throughout our world. Their globe-trotting experiences together with further research back home allows us to witness their compassion for the under-privileged living and struggling in the developing world. Indeed, this is highly commendable, I too feel compassion for those much, much less fortunate than myself. However, the question I pose is this: Why, when it comes to their own kind i.e. nationality and race, do they switch into hard, cold-hearted classists with no desire to understand who their fellow countryman really is, prefering to disrespect him, close him off, leave him outside with no way of getting in?
Sixty odd years ago a similar, yet extreme version of this attitude, led to the execution of six million Jews. Am I living alongside modern day Nazis disguised as my local acquaintances, fellow commuters, neighbours and so called comrades?
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