Millions of songs have been written since the dawn of time. Some of these songs have been committed to vinyl and CD, even the digital MP3 format. There is such a vast collection that I'll never hear them all. Not even a 10,000th of it. Let me fill you in:
I can't get hold of them all
Sure we can all download songs from the internet, thinking we're cool and syncing them to our shiny iPods or whatever, but that is a crime. Apart from the fact that no one seems to care that it's illegal, you'd have to have a pretty serious unlimited data contract with your ISP to get hold of every song ever written, if they have even all been converted to mp3s. If I were to go the legal route then I would need a rather large amount of money. Thinking about all the vinyls, cassette tapes and whatnot, even if I bought them all second hand, I'd run up a pretty large bill.
I'll probably never hear a song by The Sex Machineguns
Time is precious
Taking the average length of a song to be 3 and a half minutes, that means I can listen to about 410 songs in a day. If we take the average length for a human male living in England to be about 80 years, that means I have 42,048,000 minutes to listen to songs in my entire life, that's if I listened every night, every day constantly for my whole life.
That's time drifting away into oblivion
After a few sums, this works out at 12,013,714 songs with the aforementioned length. As we all know not every song is the same length and I can't listen to songs in my sleep. So, overall, that's a pretty pathetic percentage of all the songs ever composed.
What if I like a song?
So yeah, I've listened to a few songs in my time. But obviously if I like a song, I'm going to listen to it again. I currently have 624 songs on my mobile phone, each of which I have probably listened to about 5 times at least. So that's taken a massive chunk of possible listening time away already. But what would be the point in listening to a song if I never got to listen to it again? If I could only ever hear it once then I could never build up an appreciation for a song and sing a long with friends. Kind of seems like a pointless endeavour. I can't imagine going to a club and hearing 100% new songs each and every time so that excludes me from one of my favourite pastimes.
No Britney! I don't have time for your inane mumblings!
Songs are released faster than I can listen to them
If we take into account even just one sub genre of music, a quick look on Amazon shows how many CDs are released each month. "Pop RnB" (possibly one of the worst genres) has 101 releases in the last 30 days. Take that on average 15 tracks per CD. That's 161 tracks of 3 and a half minutes. That's almost 10 hours of solid music just in one category of music. What about Rock? Drum and Bass? Hip Hop? What about all the underground artists yet to be discovered who are recording tunes left right and centre?
So it comes to be obvious, if it wasn't from the very start, that I am doomed to listen to a tiny corner of the musical world. Luckily I really enjoy the music I have so that's OK. I just wish maybe one day I could listen to some North Korean rock or something.
Space is a big thing for me. I don't see why we should be limited to the gravity of our own planet and people who say that space exploration is a waste of time are fools. As we've already established that I'm never going interstellar for myself, maybe I can get the experience by a part of space coming to me instead. Imagine if, instead of that fool Mulder, I was Scully's partner. I'd make sure to gather some goddamn evidence and prove that we aren't alone in the Universe.This way we can all learn from them and share our knowledge too. One of my aims in life is to be the first to talk to a real inter galactic being, and make friends too.
Hopefully it won't be this traumatising if I ever
did happen to meet an extra terrestrial...
It seems, however, that I am never going to have the chance to meet an alien face to face, swap anecdotes and have a go in their rocket ship. Why not? Read on:
Government paranoia
Area 51 is miles from anywhere in the middle of a desert. Why is this? Because the American government do not want anyone to see what they're up to. If they already have aliens there, they're certainly not going to admit it openly. If aliens did happen upon our planet and land be it through a crash or otherwise, the people that decide how our countries are run would most certainly decide how an extraterrestrial encounter would go down. They wouldn't let a member of the public within 5 miles of the crash/landing site. So if I were to meet an alien, I'd most likely be swarmed by a large group of heavily armed soldiers, helicopters and tanks. They love to bring tanks.
Man meat
As these aliens have travelled a rather long way to end up here they're probably pretty hungry right now. There I am, stood still, mouth agape as they open their spaceship's hatch, just a big bag of warm meat ready to be skewered and roasted over a plasma barbecue.
Google results for "eating people" were a little too disturbing to include
I wouldn't stand a chance of running away after the shock of initially seeing a giant alien craft land, then clocking the fact that they are actually real genuine aliens, then realising that they want to make me their next meal. I'd be frozen to the spot stiffer than a paving slab. If I'm being digested inside their stomachs (or the alien equivalent thereof) then there's not much chance of me befriending them.
Language barrier
Right so let's say I catch them after they've just had Sunday lunch. They roll up into my neck of the woods, somewhere miles from any government interference and I'm the only person for a long way in any direction. They calmly exit their space vehicle, approach me in an orderly fashion and out stretch whatever appendage they have in a form of greeting. It looks rather slimey and moist but I offer my hand too, we shake firmly and I smile. Of course, the natural progression from here is "Hello" Here is where we encounter a problem. How do I know this won't be offensive in their native tongue? What if it means "I want to kill you and drink your mother's spinal fluid"? There's a slight language barrier, several million light years wide. For all I know, they might not even have a way of detecting sound, so anything I say will fall on deaf ears (will they have ears, who know's) In fact, thinking about it, how do I know that I was even supposed to touch them in the first place? Maybe that was the greatest insult possible to their race. So yeah, I probably won't be able to communicate, never mind actually make friends with these beasts.
"Alien Translator Futurama" yielded some worryingly x-rated
results from Google video search.
Lots and lots of tentacles...
It seems a respectable citizen can't even make friends with an alien these days. What has the world come to? I bet back in the day if an alien were to turn up we'd show it a grand old time, picnics in the park, ride a rollercoaster then back home for a nice steak pie. Not any more.
During the early years of my life, I was absolutely obsessed with dinosaurs. Jurassic Park was like heaven for me. Real dinosaurs come to life, galloping around, roaring and terrorising that poor guy on the toilet. Genius. I used to have books and toys of dinosaurs, big ones, small ones, herbivore, carnivore, red, green, alive, fossilised it didn't matter. They all fascinated me. One thing I would like to know though, how do they know the T-Rex's vision is based on movement? I mean Dr Grant stakes not only his life but the life of an innocent teenage girl on that fact. HOW?
Shit's about to get real!
Of all the ancient reptilian creatures though, the Tyrannosaurus Rex was my favourite. I had a big toy one which made stomping noises and roared like the one in the film, but as a foolish child will, I took it into the bath with me. From then on the "roar" sounded more like someone gargling custard. Not like this magnificent beast:
Having matured (slightly) beyond the point of playing with plastic toys, I thought it would be cool to get part of a real dinosaur. Imagine this; you are invited to a party, a little unsure, you decide to go anyway. The first thing to greet you as you enter is a 5 foot long T Rex skull. You would be instantly blown away. It's the perfect ice breaker. Alas, it's not a realistic possibility.
Let me explain:
There aren't many around
As we all know, despite what some of those religious types like to claim, dinosaurs were alive many millions of years ago. Now if we think about everything that's happened to Earth since the last T-Rex died we can start to realise why getting hold of one might be difficult. There have been ice ages, meteorites, volcanoes, filthy humans even the very fabric that makes up the Earth has shifted many miles. All of these would contribute to the erosion and destruction of fossilised skeletons. That means there are very few known examples of a T Rex skeleton still in existence.
One of the most complete skeletons up for sale
The exact figure for skeletons varies depending on your definition. Obviously you can't really class one toe bone as a skeleton so the estimate for how many have been discovered varies between 10 and 30. Some of these are in museums, some in private collections so if I wanted one I'd have to offer these people an exorbitant sum of cash money, if they were even for sale at all. One did recently go up for sale in Las Vegas at an auction. Check out the crazy estimate prices here.
Museums would hate me
Well, if I did manage to find one of these beasts fossilised, or buy one from a dodgy backstreet "taxidermist" imagine how hard it would be to keep that purchase secret. If ever the palaeontology community got hold of my whereabouts I imagine a rather stern visit from Dr Ross Geller Ph.D would be in order. There would be an outcry from museums and researchers worldwide as I stashed this skeleton for my own personal gratification. Being a man of science, I'd feel pretty guilty about this situation and probably end up giving the skeleton away.
The issue of storage
So say I come into a spot of luck and manage to acquire a pristine skeletal example of the finest predator that ever roamed the land. The lorry pulls up to my house despite the ridiculous incline, the driver cursing the narrow lane. I'm bubbling with anticipation as they lower the freight lift with an enormous cargo box marked"fragile" aboard. A team of delivery men haul the container up the steps and towards the front door when they spot a small problem. The door is too narrow for the box to fit through. Not a problem, they simply take the skull out of the box and through the doorway into the hall then they leave for their next delivery. I am now left with a five foot long skull in my hall. Major problem. Where the hell am I supposed to put this grand investment, this masterpiece of natural art?
So there we have it ladies and gentlefolk, there really is no way for me to own one of these beasts, if only they were still around today. That way I could just go out with a large calibre rifle and claim one for my own. If they weren't on some kind of endangered species list. Which they probably would be. Godamnit. So again I must resign myself to failure.
Whilst trying to create amusing words from the collection of vowels and consonants that Carol Vorderman's replacement, Rachel Riley put on the board my girlfriend had an interesting thought. She asked me how the people in "dictionary corner" managed to find the longest words from the 9 letters so fast so they can point the little camera at them and humiliate the general public. We thought about it and realised that they probably cheated and used computer software to figure it out. Surely they don't just know the whole dictionary off by heart and can recall these nine letter leviathans on demand, you'd surely have to be This led me to another terrible revelation. My vocabulary will be forever crippled as I will never read every word in the dictionary.
The wordy magicians of "Dictionary Corner"
Here's my steam locomotive of thought:
My attention span is terrible
Honestly, unless something is very interesting to me or I am actively involved, I tend to let my mind wander very easily. So whilst reeling off the words in this grotesque monster of a book that is the Oxford English Dictionary I would probably be daydreaming about riding a robot tiger through a digital wilderness, battling horrific circuit board warriors with microchips for hands.
There's so many words
Uh oh
This one kind of goes without saying but I thought it was worth pointing out. I read very slowly, like a page in about 2 minutes if I'm actually paying attention, and there are approximately 250,000 words in the OED. That's going to take me a long time if I'm chasing any of these other "impossible" feats. Also, if I want to use these words in everyday conversation, I will also have to memorise the definition in case anyone ever calls me out when I drop "tathagatagarbha" (the eternal and absolute essence of all reality according to Buddhism) into my everyday vocabulary.
What's the point?
Yes I know this one is a bit pessimistic but take a look at this fine example of the evolution of the English language:
Yes indeed it does seem as though the cat probably wrote this witty caption himself. This wave of comical language seems to have taken hold of the internet generation, every time I hear the word "lol" spoken aloud I die a little inside. Not that I am totally innocent, I've popped a few "brb"s and "roflcopter"s in my time, but I try and reserve it for the keyboard. This makes me wonder if my hypothetical extended vocabulary would even be understood, let alone appreciated. So it seems a rather pointless endeavour. Here's another gem.
At least he spotted his error
So here we are, my language repertoire shall remain mundane and devoid of any dictionarial (made that one up) spice. Maybe one day I will reside in the upper echelons of Oxford and I can have a Drama undergraduate recite the dictionary to me in the voice of Christoper Lee. Then again that sounds like another one to add to this list...
Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3 is possibly one of the best games I have ever played. Many hours have I spent playing "graffiti" with my best friend. The amount of countless "retrys" we used to execute the perfect combo to beat the "sick score" on the cruise ship stage. We marvelled at the impossibility of the grabs and flips as we sailed 50 feet into the air and landed perfectly, unharmed and reeling with adrenaline.
Another piece of popular culture that has invaded our friendship, the Rush Hour movies. I don't think a day goes by when a quote can't be overheard in our apartment from one of Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker's culture clash films. Of course, what could be better than fusing two of my favourite pastimes. I'd love to land a kickflip with Jackie Chan. Not gonna happen.
If only
Why?
I can't skate
As we can see from this super photo, Jackie is clearly a master of the skateboard, as he is a master of everything that he tries. Take singing for example:
AND DANCING! Wow, what a man. Anyway, Jackie may be able to skate, but my track record leaves a little to be desired. I've never been one for personal injury, so I don't do well balancing on four tiny wheels on a piece of plywood with sandpaper stuck to it. I've attempted to kick flip many a time and to be honest, I just can't understand the physics of it. Well played, Tony Hawk, one nil to you, sir.
I don't know where Jackie is
You might think that I could just research what film he's doing at the moment, but even if I found that out, I'd still need to discover where they were filming. Jackie Chan is a very mysterious man, he rolls in obscure circles, probably smoking Cuban cigars and downing cups of green tea like a champion. His location seems to be a closely guarded secret, known only by his closest friends and family.
He probably won't want to
One of the possible ways Jackie could react to my invitation
I am a fan of Jackie, and he seems like a lovable guy, full of whimsy and joy. I consider myself a perfectly sociable person with good morals and values too. But maybe we just won't get on. Maybe after I sought him out, dropped some dollar on a plane ticket and managed to wrestle my way through his entourage, we'd just stand there in awkward silence and the possibility of friendship would blow away like grains of sand in the breeze. Even if we do manage to make friends, he probably won't have time for foolish recreational pursuits such as trying to kickflip with me.
So, Jackie, if you're reading this. Drop me a line at tesslater@gmail.com and you can teach me how to be a real man. Ha, look at me kidding myself. Jackie Chan doesn't e-mail people, he sends ninja messengers. Shame we'll never get to pop some sweet grinds amigo.
I was lying in bed after having hit the snooze button for the 4th time on my phone's alarm clock when my mind started to wander. My eyes scanned the room as my brain burned through some crazy thoughts when my comically bright orange shoes caught my eye. I started to wonder about all the different kinds of shoes in the world, clogs for example, I mean, what the fuck are they all about? Wooden shoes? No thanks.
Anyway, I came to a disheartening conclusion. I will never wear one of Her Royal Highness The Queen's shoes. Not even one riding boot or ragged old slipper.
Once more I have a list of reasons to back my outlandish claims and further cement my anguish at the impossibility of this joyous act:
Treason
Now, I am aware that the accusation of treason is usually reserved for the more heinous of crimes. However, I'm pretty sure if, when the Queen tried to go down to the shop in the morning to get the milk and looked down to find only one shoe, she would be pretty pissed off. Fuelled by rage, having to drink her milkless tea I'm sure she would send out her top men to hunt the thief down and bring him to justice.
This obviously isn't a royal shoe as the seat isn't
clad in leather and there's no gold in sight
How to acquire said shoe
How much would a Royal's shoe be worth on eBay? Probably quite a lot, as people seem to go mad for a bit of Her Royal Highness. So presumably a shoe from Elizabeth the 2nd would be pretty hard to come by. I can't imagine she puts her old ragged trainers in the charity shoe box at Sainsbury's. Even if she did, I'd be waiting a long time in a cold wet supermarket car park, then I'd have to dive in amongst all the old shoes and try to find one of hers.
I'd assume the security at her houses is pretty tight, what with her being the ruler of our country and all. Possessing absolutely no ninja skills, infiltration skills, reconnaissance skills, or manipulative skills I think I'd find it rather difficult to gain access to the shoe whilst it's in it's usual place. That just leaves meeting the Queen in person and somehow sliding the shoe off her foot without her realising. If I manage that, I deserve some sort of Nobel Thief Prize.
It's probably the wrong size
Let's say after planning and executing an elaborate break in to Buckingham Palace, or one of the less secure Royal homes, I finally obtain a shoe. I slip it onto my delicate size 11 foot to find that it gets stuck half way on. Disaster. So I'm still not technically wearing the thing, and even if you classed it as such, it would be very uncomfortable and I want to enjoy the experience, not be dealing with blisters.
I could end up looking like this clown
So to conclude this misguided train of thought, I will never get to sample the Queen's footwear. I dream of the possibilities that would open up if I had but one of her deliciously crafted shoes. People would surely have to bow down in the street and throw their coats over puddles so as not to dirty the shoe as I walked along. THE POWER. How depressing that it will never come to fruition.
