Truisms

And so over the past few days that Lady Gaga and Beyoncé video has rendered the internet 65% stupider and I have been left dazed and confused but most of all horrified by the revelation that something so irredeemably moronic received half a million views in twelve hours. What follows is a list of indisputable truths (with positively no hint of bias), who knows, perhaps by restoring the time-honoured binaries of good and piss-awful (and not "so bad it's good") I can come to accept the horrors of recent events, and maybe, just maybe, mend this broken internet:

.All stand-up comedians called Russell are shit

Russell Brand

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjFMFXXTW0M

Russell Howard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sr6mpk6TjxQ

Russell Kane

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSu6hFkdIdQ

Don't watch the links, just take my word for it, if you watch the links your soul will bleed and your genitals will turn to powder, they tested it on Rhesus Monkeys. Russells Howard and Kane share a remarkable similarity of humour (I use the word humour loosely here), style and appearance, leading me to conclude that a Midwich Cuckoos style invasion of skinny-jeaned ironic mockney Russells is in progress. Incidentally the plural of Russell, Russells, is the noise a wanking sex pest would make while perving on you from behind a privet hedge, just saying.

.Jeremy Clarkson is a cunt

Even Jeremy Clarkson knows he is a cunt, you can tell by the look in his eyes; that look which says "I am a cunt". Jeremy Clarkson is a special kind of bigoted prickwart, the kind of bigot you feel would probably only hate the Nazis because they were German and not English. He wants the ice to melt down and the oceans to rise, he wants to pollute the air with toxic fumes and bad stadium rock, he wants to drive a 4x4 over the polar caps in some weird nihilistic Dada-esque Top Gear stunt, swerving to deliberately mow down any surviving polar bears (actually scratch that, polar bears are white).

.Most students are at least a bit annoying.

I'm a sort of self-hating Paul Calf really. It's the faces that get to me; the average philosophy student has the smug countenance of a reclining faux intellectual receiving oral sex and sipping from a pretentiously elaborate cocktail balanced on the bobbing head of the person servicing him.

.Any group which claims to be the "silent majority" is usually neither silent nor the majority, but is rather a small collection of impotently furious reactionaries hollering through megaphones and waving signs bearing slogans such as "Go Home" (sic).

and finally

.Ironic sexism looks a heck of a lot like actual sexism.. (FYI, after hours of diligent research I have discovered that "Lady" Gaga's nobility is merely an affectation, Her Majesty would never honour such an obviously debase individual).

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Warning: May contain traces of skepticism

There is a psychological phenomenon called pareidolia, it concerns the very human propensity to see significance where there is none, and as far I can tell it is the founding principle of most religious faiths. Pareidolia is seeing the image of a horse etched in cloud formation, or a potato that looks like the left nipple of Moses. Now, I can understand the need to see a pattern or a higher purpose which governs all we see and do, after all it's far more reassuring to live in a happy delusion of order than to face the very obvious truth that the universe is a chaotic existence of discord and random unfathomable cruelty, and heck, I love cloud-gazing as much the next feckless waster, but the same childlike naivety which harmlessly renders clouds equine turns bedroom shadows into lurking demons and the faces of innocents into enemies and infidels.

Anyway, I've decided to publish a book with the pareidoliac in mind, the working title is Where is Your God Now? It will be a work in the same vein as those books in which you have to find Wally or Carmen Sandiego in an expansive crowd scene, only instead of quirky vistas of Ancient Egypt or farcical beach scenarios replete with comical characters in period dress or bathing costumes, the reader will have to locate the titular "God" (a bland, anonymous grandfatherly figure in white robes with a flowing beard, like Wizard Whitebeard from the aforementioned Where's Wally? series only with less character) in harrowing scenes of mass devastation and human exodus; famines, wars and natural disasters, a different one for each page.

The only problem is that there is no God, he is a relative abstract concept (plus no publisher is going to want to pick up any book which prints the image of an Abrahamic patriarch after that whole Danish newspaper fiasco) and so it doesn't matter how hard the reader pores over the book in search of that cheeky and elusive deity, he's not printed on any page. And the final two pages of the book will feature a double spread Magic Eye optical illusion which under close scrutiny will yield the image of a huge hand with an extended middle digit, just to subtly hammer home the point of the book.

I'm hoping to have the book in the library of every faith school by this time next year.

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