Club Snus .....

Check it out!

I just noticed, tonight, this guy had signed up as a Blog Watcher here. Seeing his avatar, I wondered what might happen if I clicked on it. (I honestly don't understand these things. I just write shit on here and, largely, leave it at that)

All I can say is; If ye interested in Snus? Click that muvva's little, orange coloured picture! Top left, as I type. Then just dive in. His place is full of fascinating looking links to shit about the Growing Revolution. People taking control of their addiction, their health and their fucking finances!

I'm sorry; With my infamously Not Worth The Name On It " Vodafone 3G ('Broad Band') " piece of crap 'Connection', I can't view even 'picture rich' sites, let alone You Tube stuff. Thus I'm only able to glimpse snatches of what " Club Snus " is trying to show us there.

However; I have looked upon it ~ And seen that it Is good! :D

Take a look. Here.

I'm Having A Voda Shit Just Now!

Fucking ~ so called ~ " Vodafone 3G Broadband " ? Even I'm at a loss for expletives to sum up my utter contempt for these bastards!

Bottom line is; I can barely open a fucking page, on line, anywhere! This applies to midday, midnight, now; 04:00 in the fucking morning! My 'Speed', having almost immediately having been capped at 236.8 kbs ~ once the cunts realised I wasn't some 'Businessman' who'd only be using his modem in fucking airport lounges, for less than an hour a week ~ has now been showing a signal strength of TWO 'Bars' (Out of a potential of Seven!) for days now! My normal is five.

So, I'm tending to get work done around here. Read the odd chapter of a book ~ as I 4 - 0 fucking 4 all over the place. Occasionally glancing up, or wandering into the room, to click " Try Again ". Bastards!

For fuck sake, peeps, get the word out there! Avoid 'Vodafone 3G' Like The Plague! In fact, I'd say steer well clear of fuck all else they come up with. They truly are a company going down the pan, on the backs of their customer base. They're just figuring new ways to screw ye. Promoting their shit with 'Life Style' colour photo rich brochures of bright, young people you'd like to screw. Bastards.

That aside? I have Dogs, rats, guns, magpies and christ knows what else to tell ye about. Just can't be arsed right now, whilst I can't get a photo up or even rely on This fucking post making it!

Christ, I'm pissed off with this poxy fucking 'Connection'!

Thanks for the Memory .....

Oh well ..... " You Will notice the difference! ". All the Geeks that ever were told me that. Just get my RAM sorted out and I'd see a hell of an improvement in this LT's performance. This despite me swearing,up down and sideways, that the problem I have is that Vodafone are cunts. And that they'd capped my 'speed' at 236.8kbs the very moment they realised I actually wanted to Use this fucking thing. Not just dash in to check for short e mails once a night.

But, anyway; Who am I to argue with the Geeks? I know fuck all about computers ~ no where near as much as I do about human nature and the staggering greed of big businesses. So, today, Dean O' and I went into the nearest 'Big Town' ~ Carrick On Shannon ~ and visited a Geeks shop there. " Bits and PC's "

Derek's a nice enough guy. We found him sitting behind his crowded little desk, in his crowded little room at the top of the stairs. His space wouldn't even add up to a half decent bed sit. Two, tiny rooms. One the shop. The other a little hole into which he retreats, alone, to mess with the insides of PC's.

He didn't even need to go in there to sort my Memory out though. Just produced a screw driver and a little bit of stuff. Took a little cover off the underside of my Lap Top and revealed the fact that there was nothing in there! No chip.

I believe he then explained this in more detail. How the thing was running on some RAM which was an integral part of the inner system? I don't know. My hearing's so bad I hear little enough of what people say to me these days. But I watched him put a chip in. My machine is now pushing nearly 500MB of RAM. Maxed out. Hasn't made shit difference.

Well, to be brutally honest? I got home. Attached my Vodafone 3G Modem and fired her up. I almost shit myself! Before I could say " XP ", I was sat here staring, in amazement, at my Desk Top. I don't think I've ever seen my system load so fast in all my life. Truly incredible.

Then I fired up the modem and asked for a page ..... and sat here. Watching. Waiting. Resigned. 236.8kbs. Vodafone truly are cunts. For £15.00 though, it was worth a spin. At least I can now shave a minute or two off the wastage of my day. Hit that button and Flash! I have my Desk Top before me.

Not to end on such a banal and pointless note though; I also bought a freshly reconditioned PC off Derek. £100. All singing and dancing. Just the box. But, it means that if, or when, this old work horse finally coughs, farts and dies ~ probably about mid evening, after every where's long since shut for the day ~ I only have to fetch in my other PC, plug my bits into it and pretty much get straight back to work.

Best of all though is my freaky Key Board! I'm a two finger typist and my finger nails are hard as all hell ~ especially on the plastic of key board buttons. I tend to dig the characters off inside six months. What ever remains, I tend to hide beneath a thick coat of spilled tea and beer. That's why I found the concept of a Rubber Key Board irresistible.

Waterproof? Completely. Hopefully less prone to getting dug to fuck by my nails too. But, here's what Really freaks me out!

It's Bendy As A Dish Cloth!

I mean ~ seriously; How fucked up is That?!

" Nothing Is Easy " ~ BroadBand and the Beasting!

Yes. How many of ye spotted, from that one, that I'm a huge Jethro Tull fan?

Anyway, this is one that just about looks set to run and run. The story of my own, seemingly endless, struggle to simply avail myself of what all you fuckers take absolutely for granted. A Broadband connection.

It all started three whole and sorry years ago, when I washed up on these shores and set about the first priority of modern existence; Getting back on line. In fact, come to think of it, I guess one could say it started before I even left england. I had pretty good BB then and used it, as I thought, wisely. Not only did I find and buy this place over it. I also had the where with all to check out the going prices of donkeys and suss out the local ISP's.

Eircom are, of course, about the equivalent of what BT used to be over there. (Make of that statement what ye will too!) Fact is, they're the main name. But, one glance at the fora and I soon found just what name most of their wretched customers tended to call them!

And yet, for some damn reason which I can now no more remember than begin to fathom; I signed up with the bastards! And, without getting ahead of my self, ye'll soon see that some things have a way of repeating themselves.

So, here I was, sat here in my semi derelict cottage in the smack bang middle of absolutely fucking no where. Sans internet. It goes without saying that this was a bit of a monkey on my back. And that's probably got something to do with why I ~ like a junky, crazed beyond reason by the need for what helps him through the night ~ ended up disregarding all the wailing and gnashing of teeth across the native fora and got onto Eircom.

Pleasently surprising, at first. I mean, I had to ring them rather a lot. But what red blooded man could maintain too much tight lippedness when constantly running up against a soft, femminine, Irish accent?! God knows, That little trick had already got me to shell out thousands on a top of the range Dell computer! Frankly, I think that girls voice and manner could have sold me a drawer full of dead fucking rats!

Buy anyway, I stayed the course and kept on phoning and enquiring. Even though the responses had long since slipped seemlessly from the sweet softness of promise to the blunt, Ulster accent of down right beligerance. The bastards messed me around, prevaricated and down right Lied to me. For Ever! Or so it seemed.

Eventually though, after an eternity of bullshit, I one day switched on, fired her up and found myself On Line. Oh the joy! Oh the speed too! It took them months to get it to me. But here I finally was; Skidding round the net on my Eircon " ANY TIME 320 " broadband connection. Great!

Life was soon returning to normal for me then. I'd get up. Check my e mail. Have a shoofty round the fora. Go out and do my chores. Maybe even pop into town for the day. What ever. Things were still rosy when ever I returned to look at my screen. That connection held like a limpet and ran like a train. I'd surf all night and hardly ever hit a glitch. Brilliant! I was a happy bunny.

Then, a month later, the Bill came in ..... One THOUSAND fucking Euro's!!!!! Think I'm shitting ye? I wish to fuck I was! Of course, I rang them and asked them if there was some mistake. A Grand? For a months internet connection??? Surely .....

Nope. It was correct. To the last cent. In fact, I should point out here that ~ give them their due ~ the human beings I spoke to did at least have the human decency to sound ashamed and in sympathy with my awful plight. After all, they just lied and misled people for a living. But we all have to make a crust, eh? And they were, after all, simply doing what their management ordered them to do. Doesn't mean to say they had to like or even agree with it. But I still had to pay.

Turns out, see, this was the biggest fuck off since " I won't cum in ye mouth. " A sly and deliberate trap into which I'd freely wandered, completely oblivious to its vicious and cynical truth.

" Any Time ". Sounds like " Always On ", doesn't it? Or maybe, " Free Time ". Just another brand name for the perfectly normal broadband. The one which ye fire up and forget. " Flat Rate " they call it, don't they?

Aye, well the ubiquitous 'They' might. Fucking Eircon called it " 320 ", or what ever the little, innocuous number they stitched on, in small print, was. And ye know what? That was the number of minutes or hours, what ever, that one could have out of " Any Time " in a given month, before the slimy bastards starting charging ye by the fucking second!!!

And there's me, swanning off into town, leaving the fucking thing On??? May as well have phoned the Aussie person we have reading this place, then just leaving my phone off the hook and bidding them do the same. I mean, why the fuck not? It's only a staggering fucking phone bill I'd be running up! And didn't I just! Bastards!

Anyway, that's quite enough 'Talk Time' from me, for now. I'm finding myself glancing out the window and needing to get on. Just had to remind myself for a minute there that it's safe to do so! I'm on this bloody Vodafone 3G thing now. That's another complete fucking piss take. But that too is another story. I'll tell ye about that later on.