The McChins

April 4, 2012

Samantha ‘face like a’ Brick is a BULLY.

Filed under: Mrs McChin — themcchins @ 2:09 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Yesterday and today, I did something that made myself physically ill. Something that robbed me of braincells, and had me feeling that my last semblance of faith in the planet was being ripped away from me: I read two articles from The Daily Mail.

The articles I read were by the now-household name (lets be honest, had any of us ever heard of her before?), Samantha Brick. None of us would have been surprised to read a warped sense of arrogance, a ridiculous statement being shouted from rooftops as fact and writing so terrible that you have no idea how this human forged a career in journalism; we were reading The Daily Mail, and anybody unfortunate enough to have been employed by this publication has already hit their lowest ebb in knowing they’ve scraped the bottom of the journalistic barrell for work. None of us were shocked to see something ludicrous being forced down our throats, causing a bile that rose until we choked on the irony of her own sentiment. But what did shock us all was that she seemed to genuinely believe what she was saying.

Had the article been written two days earlier, we would have all put it down to a terrible April Fools’ joke and nothing more would have been said. But the passion that went into her arguments – that all women hate her because she is so incredibly beautiful, that she can’t get ahead in work because every woman must be intimidated by her – dripped with irony and a sense of delusion that had us all genuinely pitying this mindless creature, who clearly has no idea how the real world works.

Let’s get something straight, Samantha: I’m no oil painting. But I would personally pay for you to spend a weekend in a romantic hotel and a double bed with my husband, and be completely confident that nothing would ever happen. I can guarantee that I am one of millions who believe the same. My husband had never read your story, had never even heard of you before, until I turned my laptop around and said “what do you think of her?”. I didn’t say it aggressively; he knows it wasn’t a trap. He gave me his honest opinion. He scrunched his face up, said “not much, why?” and I told him what you’d written. And then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed a little more.

Don’t kid yourself into believing that the “backlash proves the point”. The “backlash” is a result of somebody who has a painfully misguided arrogance and an over-inflated ego taking it upon themselves to tell the country that she thinks she is better than them. Don’t you see the irony in your article? “My life is so hard because I’m so beautiful. Why can’t I be ugly like the rest of you?”, is all that your article screamed. Have you ever had somebody stand over you and tell you “It’s difficult being this great. I wish I could climb down to your level and have a shitty life so that I could have nothing to complain about”? I bet you wouldn’t like it. The public are reacting to you patronising them. Nobody likes to be belittled. Do you even see what you were doing to crush the spirits of the women out there? So many women who regularly read The Daily Fail are frumpy, middle-aged and surrounded by screaming children and are trapped in a loveless marriage. Their only means of escape is their daily session of trashy “journalism” (I use that word loosely). The last thing they need is somebody with a shiny face, bleached hair, an expensive dress and a loving husband waiting at her home in France telling them how difficult her life is. Especially when you’re blaming your difficulties on how “beautiful” you are.

Your lack of promotion was probably nothing to do with your face, and more to do with your shoddy writing skills. Women probably don’t like you because you bully and patronise them, making it clear you look down on them and place yourself on your own over-sized pedestal. You contradict yourself; whimpering that you are no flirt then bragging that you have flirted your way ahead in business. You’re clearly a very insecure person who feels the need to put others down in order to inflate your own ego. You’re blinded by your own idiocy and seem to be believing your own hype. And for that, Samantha Brick, the nation pities you.

Do yourself a favour and get some serious psychological help for your issues. Stop picking on the rest of us. Nobody wants to read it. But, hey. At least it got you some attention for a couple of days, right?

Stop belittling women and practice what you preach.

Mrs McChin.

April 3, 2012

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU.

There is a phrase I am a huge believer in. It was credited to Voltaire (although there is some contention as to if he actually said it or not) and the phrase is this …
“Monsieur l’abbé, je déteste ce que vous écrivez, mais je donnerai ma vie pour que vous puissiez continuer à écrire” which translates to, “Monsieur l’abbé, I detest what you write, but I would give my life to make it possible for you to continue to write.” It has been loosely translated to “I may disagree with what you say, but I would defend to the death your right to say it.”
These words are, in my mind, the basis and foundation of FREEDOM OF SPEECH.

With that in mind let me ask you this … do we have freedom of speech across the board or do we have censorship across the board? Because you can’t cherry pick to suit your needs/situation. This doesn’t mean I am ok with people spewing racist jibes on the internet or in real life. It doesn’t mean I agree or condone their words. It merely means that I believe they have the right to say what they want. Your government disagrees. Your government would happily spend a large amount of money imprisoning someone for their infantile, drunken, racist tweets. (See This Liam Stacey article and see the retardedness of the UK justice system hard at work). Your government would like to make examples of drunken idiots, of people who make flippant, albeit poorly judged, jokes such as the #TwitterJoketrial and spend a fortune on making examples of these people to appear as if they have some control over the internet. What they are really doing is tightening their grip around the throat of free speech and the Daily mail readers and PC fuckwits are lapping it up.
In my mind a huge fine and public shaming would have been enough of a punishment for Liam but the UK justice system had other ideas. They wanted you to feel the might of their intrawebz power. In the wake of public shaming that they cannot and will never be able to stop Anonymous from existing and making their lives hell, they went after small fish and used the media to make a huge boogey man that they could ‘take down’ and show you all ‘to fucking behave yourselves online’.

NOW the Conservative/Liberal beast wants to monitor you all. Every single one of us. Your email, your internet usage and your text messages. Everything.

They justify this by saying it will bring “criminals, paedophiles and terrorists” to justice, and “ordinary people” would have nothing to fear. REALLY? That’s a lovely way of saying, “We will monitor you all and, when you do even the slightest thing wrong and we arrest you, we will be justified because you will be considered a criminal at the time of arrest”.
This means that, no matter how small your perceived crime, you will be a criminal and their observation of us all will be justified.
Seriously? 1984, right there.


I do believe they should be catching terrorists, paedophiles and criminals but not at the cost of my freedom. Even though I am doing nothing wrong I still don’t want my habits and messages seen by some stranger given the right by a government I hate with a fucking passion. Would you like someone in your home picking up your phone every time you received a text and reading it before you? Because that is exactly what happens. (Not actually being in your home of course but they will know your messages before you do). Imagine your wife/husband/spouse sending you a sexy text and some arsehole spy seeing it first. Imagine, via email, bitching about your boss and making a flippant comment about “having him beaten to death” and someone knocking on your door to arrest you for it. Extreme examples? Yes, for now. But the way this country is going? It could be a reality. If you let too many of our freedoms disappear now then imagine what kind of world your children will be living in. Imagine a world where your children grow up safe from harm as long as they toe the line. Imagine a world where your opinions are ok as long as they fit the norm. Imagine a world where your government are the scariest people in everyday life, not the terrorists. It’s happening already. Your ISP keeps logs of all phone calls and internet activity for 12 months thanks to a law passed in 2009. How many more years before every single thing you do is monitored?
George Orwell was spot on. Sign this or make way for the thought police.

Meet me at the Chestnut Tree Cafe.

 

Yours Under observationally
Mr McChin

March 25, 2012

Jonathan and Charlotte.

You know what? I don’t usually care about this. I usually bypass television “talent” (tongue firmly in cheek as I say that) shows and let you all get sucked in and brainwashed into believing that what the public says ACTUALLY makes a difference. But last night I watched BBC’s The Voice to see if it was worth the hype (it wasn’t. Consequentally, I thought the idea itself was a crowd pleaser, but the judges were appalling. Jessie J and Will.I.Am could barely yell over the sound of their own egos [but boy did they try], Irish guy nobody’s heard of made it painfully obvious he only cared about looks by going “damn, I knew I should have buzzed!” when he turned around and saw a good looking awful singer, or looked disappointed when he buzzed someone and they were ugly, and Tom Jones looked like he couldn’t care less about being there and didn’t even know who the hell the other three self-loving over-dramatic idiots were. But I digress.) and decided I’d join the nation in switching over to watch Britain’s Got Talent when it had finished.

Same crap, different year, obviously. Simon Cowell is joined by a man whose sexuality none of us are quite sure of so that they can do some “cheeky” flirting before furiously arguing that they’re both straight. They’ve got a couple of ladies (who aren’t famous for much anymore) for when the sob stories come pouring in and they need somebody to shed a single tear down their shiny cheeks. Unfortunately, the judging line-up not all that hasn’t changed. For yet another year, the nation has been attacked by Su-Bo Disease. And my GOD it is infuriating.

Watching Twitter and Facebook last night, while Jonathan and Charlotte walked onto the stage, was like watching a family of mentally handicapped chimps bang their heads together and finally go full retard. Everybody judged him. And no, I don’t mean that they thought he’d be a terrible singer. I mean they judged him by looking at an overweight and unattractive man and thinking “I hope he’s good. I want to be able to prove I’m not judgmental by supporting somebody I think is ugly”. Don’t you see how hypocritical that is? Of course after he sang, timelines were awash “Simon didn’t see that coming!”, “Thank GOD he’s good!” and “Jonathan to win! Good on him for getting out infront of all of those people and singing like that!”… How patronising, naive, judgmental and narrow-minded were each of those statements?!?!

Let’s address these one by one. Does anybody in the English-speaking world ACTUALLY still believe that Simon Cowell “doesn’t see that coming”? Simon Cowell orchestrates the entire show. There are reports stating that he contacts many people who become the nation’s favourites at least a year before the show, asking them to audition – that he has even personally mentored certain youngsters or people who the public want to see as ‘low in confidence’. Of course, every time somebody comes out of the woodworks saying they’ve received one-on-one Simon Cowell treatment, they quickly retract their statement and receive a large sum of money. But I’m sure those two things are unrelated. In much the same way as X Factor, people can’t fathom that this entire programme is orchestrated and fixed. Judge reactions are choreographed and the public are manipulated into siding with a certain performer. Simon Cowell knew Susan Boyle was going to be good, because the BGT stage was not the first time she was to perform for Simon’s “people”. And that is exactly why Simon Cowell knew Jonathan would be a good singer and made such a show of looking judgmental before the performance – he knows that the nation are easily manipulated and would LOVE to sink their teeth into another Susan Boyle.

“Thank GOD he’s good!”? Really? Because you would look like an absolute dick if you judged somebody purely on their singing ability, and were forced to admit that the fat guy wasn’t really that great. In this overly PC day and age we’re not allowed to like who we want to like. We are conditioned to believe that have to support the underdog or we are bad people. The moment Jonathan (an overweight, pasty, sweaty 17 year old with a haircut deficiency) walked on to the BGT stage, the nation knew that they had no choice but to like him. How he sang was immaterial. Luckily for you lot, he sounded alright. If you’d had your eyes shut when you heard him you wouldn’t have been quite so impressed, but he does have quite a good voice – that combined with how much of an underdog he is means he’s going to get far. I mean, look at SuBo. If she can make it to the live shows, ANYBODY can. And no, before you throw a predictable one over, I couldn’t do any better. But then I don’t put myself on a national television programme claiming I’m a singer worth investing in. If I’d heard one of my friends sing like Jonathan, I’d be impressed. But in the setting of a multi-million pound television programme that only showcases the best of the best? He will be drowned out by the other talents before long. And his poor pal Charlotte could barely be heard next to him as it was – but actually sounded a lot better than anybody is giving her credit for. Of course. Because she’s a reasonably pretty girl. And the public aren’t interested in supporting winners.

Finally, let’s address the issue that everybody thinks he’s such a brave boy for a) getting out on that stage and b) standing up for his friend. I know people with self-esteem issues. I know people who are painfully unconfident. And the frustrating thing is, most of those people have a hell of a lot more ability than they give themselves credit for. Unfortunately, though, when you genuinely have a crippling self-esteem problem (and not just the kind of ‘problem’ that gets you sympathy on a TV show) you can’t bring yourself to get up on stage and showcase your talents. Nobody who genuinely had no self-confidence would get up in front of the nation. Or even that audience. Or even the panel of judges. It just wouldn’t happen. And to project your voice so far? No. Someone with real self-confidence issues, who isn’t using their size to get sympathy and have the public rally behind them, could not stand up on that stage. His little ‘coming in too early’ at the beginning was GENIUS – the nation jumped to his aide and virtually mopped his brow, willing him to go on and show the world that fatties CAN have talent. And what of him standing up for his wee pal with the quiet voice? People stand up for their friends all the time. Is it only commendable if the person is fat? Or is it that we are patronising this gentleman, assuming that he has no back-bone just because he’s fat so giving him far more credit than he actually deserves for doing the exact same thing that hundreds of thousands of people do every single year?

I know what’s going to happen, here. People are far too politically correct to admit when they’re wrong about somebody, so they’re going to fervently defend him to the end. The same thing happened with Su-Bo, and she could barely even sing. Next time you criticise someone for being judgmental, though, just remember how DAMN judgmental and patronising you’re being for forcing your support. You might have even convinced yourself that you really thought he was the best thing you’ve ever heard. But when you look back on this and compare him with other singers, you are going to be genuinely ashamed of just how narrow-minded you have been.

I feel sorry for you all.

Mrs. McChin.

If you missed it, the audition I’m referring to is here.

March 18, 2012

♫Caaaaan you feeeeel the raaaaage toniiiiight?♫

As many of you know, there are lots of things that annoy me. (It would be easier, and shorter, to write a list of things that don’t annoy me). Among the top 5 things that annoy me the most I would have to place ‘Passive aggressiveness’ somewhere near the top.
“But why does passive aggressiveness bother you, Mickey, me old mate?”
Take a seat and let me tell you why it bothers me, old chum. In a world where men are becoming less like men and more like ladies (wearing make-up, skin tight clothes, crying and championing causes of the feminists and their “I want equal treatment, and by equal I mean special treatment” bullshit and so on) it irks me when someone hasn’t the balls to say to you, “You know what, Mickey? You’re a cunt,” and then stick around to back that up with evidence, or at least almost believable hearsay. And what makes it worse? The internet. Why do people adopt a passive aggressive (herein referred to as “pussy”) attitude on the internet? Who the hell isn’t man enough to call you out via a computer and a keyboard? Are they worried that, in retaliation, I will jump out of their monitor and throttle them? Do they think I will track them down and make their lives hell? Because, let me tell you, I won’t do either. (Unless you push and push and push me. Then, and only then, will I retaliate in kind.) No. I will move on. Why? Because I am a grown up. I don’t sit here and stew over your words to me. No, I laugh at your flailing, pathetic retorts and then switch off my computer and don’t give you a second thought. Why? Because you matter less to me than poor people do to David Cameron. It bothers me because I am an Alpha male. I don’t take shit from people. If I don’t like someone, I tell them to their face. If I have a problem with someone, I tell them to their face. I do not walk in the underhanded, cowardly, spineless land of the wimpy. I walk tall and proud in the land of men, a place starting to have less and less of us in it. I walk among other Alpha males and we stride past you our heads held high, while you crawl, heads low, muttering your insults and hard done by complaints to the unforgiving, uncaring ground we walk on.

“Mickey, buddy, what has happened to prompt this rant?”
I’ll tell you, made up voice in my head, I will tell you it all.

Recently we’ve had a few run-ins with idiots again. I won’t name names but these sad little ‘men’ know who they are. And in their futile attempts to rile us up (a feat STILL not accomplished by any of these ‘tards) they both insult us and block us before a counter insult can appear on their time line (the twitter version of a child sticking his fingers in his ears and crying “YOU’RE AN IDIOT LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Or they make tweets that are about us but do not ‘@’ us or confront us, instead choosing to tweet things like, “Just some nobodies” to one of their followers who gave enough of a shit to ask what they were whining about this time. Others try to draw their followers attention to us by banging on about whatever it is that ruffled their skirts, hoping their followers will fight their battle for them. The last kind will argue with us for ages, clearly fail to get anywhere, and then block us and claim victory is theirs. (Really? You hit the block button, matey, not us. I would say victory is ours.)
BUT … yes there is a but … the most pathetic attempt at getting back at us happened this week.
(There is a screencap below for your LOLLER-TAINMENT!)

Image

Someone has sat there, on their Android phone, punching in search terms to Google that they know will show up in our blogs ‘recent searches’ list in the hope it riles us. (They know this from STILL reading mine and the missus twitter feeds and our blog. Can you say, “Obsessed?”)
Now, as I said, “Pussy” attitude usually riles me. This didn’t. I LOLLED. I LOLLED long and hard.
Why? Because someone has sat on their phone searching terms that include the words “Fuck kids”, “Suck Donkey Dick” and “Fuck actual dogs” (as the Missus said on twitter, “YES! ACTUAL dogs”, not the fake knock off kind you buy in dodgy street market that actually turn out to be mouse on steroids or some shit, but an ACTUAL, REAL, CAN-YOU-FUCKING-BELIEVE-IT DOG!!!) This made me LOL for two reasons. One, because they have dwelled for days after we last gave them an ounce of attention, their thoughts about us have festered and bothered them enough that I can guarantee they have thoughts about us randomly and feel a hatred toward us. How can I guarantee it? Because they are still trying to ‘get to us’ despite us not giving a fuck and it eats them alive that they are so bothered by us. THAT makes me LOL (and just a little hard!) Two, they now have a phone that, somewhere deep inside, has those search terms in. Their phone will have been flagged up to someone, somewhere for searching for a term that included “Fuck kids” and so their internet activity will be placed on a list that means it will be monitored, at least in the short term. Those two reasons make me LOL at these searches. It is, without a doubt, the most spineless display of passive aggressiveness I have encountered yet. So pathetic it is hilarious. I love that we have gotten to this spineless little arsehole so much that he loses sleep over us, that he has random thoughts about us and that he is angry as fuck that he cannot rile us up like we riled him. (I say him as we are 98% sure we know who this is through various means and methods).

If you have a problem with us, be man enough to say it to us, let us respond and then go fuck yourself. Your opinion means nothing to me. I don’t care how politically correct you are, I am not. I don’t care how fucking cool you think you are, I am cooler. I don’t care how impotent your rage is, you don’t matter to me. If you died tomorrow I wouldn’t be happy or sad, you wouldn’t register. But, by all means, keep searching for our blog with your hilarious search terms. It provides us LULZ for those two reasons I listed. It also warms my black little heart to know you are still thinking of us. Protip (Because I KNOW you just sat there reading this and got even more RAGE all up in your grill) – Next time you think of us, try touching yourself. Use your tears of rage as lube and tug out an angry wank. It’s the least we can do for you, being as you have provided hours of hilarity to us.

 

PS – And yes, we DO both take full anal … usually with tea, some biscuits and your mum.

March 1, 2012

Man the fuck up II – Attack of the cowards.

Filed under: Mr McChin,Uncategorized — themcchins @ 10:59 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

If there is one thing I can’t stand (among the millions of things I hate and despise in this world) one of the worst is cowardice. I really detest and loath people who have no spine. I, of course, speak figuratively. I don’t mean I have any hatred for people without the use of (or indeed missing) a spine. I mean people who don’t have the courage to say things to your face. Or, online, to @you in a post instead choosing to whinge like a little girl about you behind your ‘back’.
Passive aggressive tweets are the worst. When someone takes offence to my tweets I really couldn’t give a flying fuck if they unfollow me. It’s Twitter, my life doesn’t begin and end online (unlike some people) so, if you unfollow me, it won’t even register on my radar. What does register is when my follower count drops and I see a tweet by some spineless arsehole (Yes @LDN_Rant, it’s about you this time, but you aren’t the only one. You are one of many cowards I have encountered on here) bitching about someone, saying they unfollowed them (in some vain hope more than one of their followers gives a shit) and putting two and two together (a feat beyond some of you) and figuring out you meant me. It bothers me because you didn’t have the guts to @ me and say, “You’re a cunt, I disagree and I’m unfollowing you”.
No, you whined like a tart, unfollowed and then, even when called out, still failed to respond. I have to ask myself, ‘How much of a wretch do you have to be to even shy away from confrontation ONLINE?’ I mean, come on, it’s online. What can someone do to you?!?!
Are you that fucking afraid of life that you hide even when you are practically anonymous? I find it funny. Funny but annoying.
Me? If I have a problem with someone I have no qualms calling you out. Why? Because I check in my pants and see a set of BALLS! Try it, I know they haven’t appeared often for you but one day, one day kid, they may just sprout on out long enough for you to imitate a man!) I won’t unfollow you and then post passive aggressive tweets about you. I’ll @ you, call you a cunt and move on. You won’t even register more than a split millisecond blip in my life. (The only reason @LDN_Rant even registered this time is he is the cowardly straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. Cowardice needs to be called out so I finally did it.)

So let me say this to all you spineless little twats …
If you unfollow me either unfollow me and move on or, if you wish to bitch about me, say it to my face (or timeline). Don’t hide behind passive aggressive tweets like some frightened child at a paedophile party. Grow a pair of balls and say something. If those balls just won’t grow then shut the fuck up, block me and move on. Don’t be a fucking pussy all your life, just hiding behind your account to spew your ‘comedic’ bile. Man the fuck up.

Love

Mr. McC

February 25, 2012

The Curse of the 1,000 Followers.

Filed under: Mrs McChin — themcchins @ 1:00 pm
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I don’t really care who follows me. I’ve never been one who has gone out of her way to boost numbers. Back in the days of MySpace, I didn’t jump on “whore trains”, and I won’t add people I don’t know to my Facebook list. It makes no difference how many people are reading the crap I post; I’m going to post it anyway. I do, however,  spend a lot of time constantly changing the list of people I follow.

My main aim is to have a timeline which is comedy-rich and full of an eclectic group of people with whom I can share laughter, debates and, rarely, friendship. To achieve this, I approach it in an almost business-like manner. I operate a three strike system. I do not tolerate
– People begging for followers. This includes the “RT IF YOU AGREE” bullshit, and anybody who uses the hashtag ‘teamfollowback’.
– People attention seeking.
– People ignoring me when I speak to them.
Three instances of any of these, and I will unfollow. I follow this rule rigidly.

Generally, I can weed these people out before I even click follow. A quick scan through the timeline will show me what kind of person this tweeter is, if the bio doesn’t do it first. If the timeline check comes back okay, I look at how many followers they have. Over 500 and I’m wary. Over 1,000 and I know they are going to have the Curse of the 1,000 Followers.

The Curse of the 1,000 Followers is the superiority which emanates from the person who has got themselves up to over 1,000 followers. This person will take it upon themselves to decide who they deem worthy of their time, and when they would like to give up their precious time responding (I know sometimes it’s easy to miss a tweet, which is why I operate the three strike system). They will tweet old and predictable jokes, then they will complain when others do the same. They RT every single Follow Friday they receive and any compliments that are thrown their way just to cement in the minds of their followers how wonderful they really are. And, quite frankly, I find it sickening.

Of course there are exceptions. There are exceptions to every rule. There are people who have tweeted for four years and have simply built up a steady flow of followers. There are people who tweet quality comedy and who deserve the attention they’re getting. There are even a very very rare few who were on TV or in the news and haven’t let their egos take control yet; they’re just down to earth people who happened to be in the public eye, so the public followed them. But, for the most part, you don’t get over 1,000 followers without being a whore, an attention seeker or a complete and utter suck-up. Those are three things which I whole-heartedly refuse to be.

Maybe I do take Twitter too seriously. Maybe I put too much time and effort into monitoring the tweets of the people I follow. But maybe I’m also one of the only people who pays more attention to the ‘following’ number than the ‘followers’ – let’s be honest. the more followers you have, the more your ego hurts when you lose one.

All I want to do is ensure that Twitter remains my means of escapism. If that means taking some of my obsessively organised personality from my “work” life and applying it to my “relaxation” life for a couple of minutes at a time to ensure it’s the best it can be, then so be it.

If you’re on my following list, though, please take it as a sign that I think you’re pretty fucking great. I think you’re worth reading, and you have pissed me off on less than three occasions. What a winner you are.

And there I was saying I wasn’t a suck-up,

Piss off, before I turn into a bitch again.

Mrs McChin.

February 24, 2012

Arsehole Drivers.

Filed under: Mr McChin — themcchins @ 10:08 am
Tags: , , , ,

Dear Drivers of Milton Keynes and the rest of the world,

It has come to my attention that many of you are struggling with some of the more complicated aspects of being behind the wheel of a car. Things like reversing into parking spaces, getting in the correct lane at roundabouts, indicating and watching where you’re going, to name a few.
I can’t offer you much advice other than; if you can’t drive then you should get off of the fucking road.
I can’t see how you passed your driving test if you cannot reverse into a parking space. It isn’t hard. And, if you are one of these incompetents, then drive in forward and reverse out later. You may find it easier to reverse into a big road than a ‘tiny’ parking space. I’m guessing you probably have trouble fitting other tiny things into gaping holes too, take that as you will.

I have noticed that certain road stereotypes are indeed true. Boy racers are usually in souped-up little fiestas, corsas or clios and drive around like the little arseholes they are endangering life and limb of other road users. Old people are slow as fuck and just as dangerous with their slow crawl along fast roads (the automobile version of their Thursday shuffle around Tesco I guess) and their painfully slow entering of the roundabout. Other cars screeching to a halt to avoid sending these coffin dodgers to their grave a few days sooner than the Grim Reaper had planned.
And, worst of all, the majority of people driving a Merc, BMW, Audi or similarly large car drive like cunts and have no fucking clue what an indicator is. This is made worse if they are in a suit. The sense of self importance in these arseholes is phenomenal. They rarely indicate and, if they ever do, it is once the turn has nearly been completed. It’s a bit like punching someone in the face and telling them about it once they’re falling to the floor from the impact. It makes me want to drag these fuckers out of their car, smash their face in with a knuckle bar and then say, “Oh, by the way, I’M ANGRY”. Just because your company gave you a ‘flash’ car doesn’t mean you are now king of the road. (That’s my job, BTW!) It merely means you are now an arsehole driver. I mean you probably already were but now everyone will see it a mile off.
I long for the day when you fail to indicate and go hurtling face first into the side of a massive garbage truck. They won’t feel a thing but you? You will be being scraped off of black bags and rubbish for weeks to come. And I hope that in your final moments you have your driving life flash before your eyes, displaying every retarded thing you have ever done behind the wheel, showing every accident you caused, every time you almost made a poor innocent family crash their car, every moment you caused another driver to slam on their brakes because of you and you think, “My god, what an arsehole I am” just as your face connects with the side of the truck. Of course, that won’t be the last thing to enter your head as you hit that truck. Your arse will be.

Drive safely out there and remember,
When on the road it isn’t you that you have to worry about, it’s those other fuckers.

Mr McC.

Down with Sluts!

Filed under: Mrs McChin — themcchins @ 8:52 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Yesterday I posted two tweets, which unfolded thusly:

“I will never understand why people would allow their partners to flirt furiously under their noses, and why said partners would want to.”

followed by

“Twitter really is a breeding ground for sluttish behaviour, attention seeking and adultery. I pity the ones in those relationships.”

Now, I’m not going to go into the ins and outs (no, sluts, a pun was not intended there) of what prompted my tweets, but let’s just say there is more than one repeat offender. All too often, I have watched friends get a smidgen of attention from the opposite sex (or same, if that’s what they’re in to) and turned into complete and utter whores. It’s sad. They post attention-seeking tweets, offer themselves up on a plate and, when they have partners, they decide that the feelings of their “loved ones” are no longer important. I just can’t fathom it. What kind of insecure and twisted relationship must you be in to convince yourself you’re OKAY with your partner whoring him or herself out to strangers? And what kind of unloving and miserable relationship must you be in to WANT to whore yourself out to strangers?!?!

I fully maintain (and this has been confirmed by people previously in this situation AFTER they’ve broken up) that swinging and “open relationships” are simply a way of saying “I want to fuck other people, but you look wonderful as a security blanket”. Maybe I’m just old fashioned (and trustworthy. And loyal. And not a slut.) but I see a successful relationship as TWO people. Especially if said couple has children. When you make a vow to stay faithful (whether that vow is before god, somebody else you believe in or just a promise to your loved one,) it should be honoured and respected, as should the man or woman you love. Do what you want. Fuck who you want. But the moment you risking hurting somebody purely because you want to get a bang (or even some attention from a stranger – I consider online “fun” cheating too.) you are completely out of line and proving what a selfish bitch you really are. Down with #boobiewednesday and other excuses to get your tits out and pretend to your husbands that it isn’t for attention (and don’t deny it. Week on week I see people posting photos of their saggy tits wrinkled at the top due to the cranked up push-up bra, saying they’re giggling and blushing at all of the compliments they’re receiving then throwing in a cautionary “Uhh, remember to check your boobs OR GET SOMEBODY ELSE TO LOOOOOOL I’M SUCH A FLIRT”). Down with knowing that innocent people have no idea about their partners’ secret lives. Down with letting people insult their husbands and wives by whoring themselves around to anybody who will notice. I say we create a hashtag of our own. Store our hatred and resentment until the end of the week, when we will call these fuckers out and hashtag it #antislutsunday. Can you IMAGINE if they got called out? They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. Somebody in the world WOULDN’T want to fuck them and they’d crumble over the information that they never thought they’d hear. Or at least have blocked out until now. So join the Anti-Slut Revolution. Hashtag #antislutsunday and stop these infuriating people who have no sense of morals. Those people are what is wrong with Twitter. Call them out. Give them the equivalent of a Twitter bitch slap. Or, you know, contact their husbands and wives and let them know what’s going on.

Yours ALWAYS sarcastically,

Mrs McChin.

February 21, 2012

Not a happy camper.

Filed under: Mr McChin — themcchins @ 7:45 pm
Tags: , , , ,

As you may or may not know, I enjoy playing Black Ops on the PS3.
At least, I mostly enjoy playing Black Ops on the PS3. Some days though it just frustrates the fuck out of me. Not because I’m bad (which I am) or because I’m a sore loser (which I am not) but because it gets increasingly annoying when some snot nosed little teenager camps out for the entire fucking game. That or some basement dwelling neck bearded mother fucker.

I have nothing against people beating me. I believe that we only strive harder when we aren’t succeeding at something. So every single time I get my arse kicked it spurs me on. I don’t mind losing to some jumped up little fuckwit with the reflex skills of a ninja as he sneaks up behind me and stabs me in the back for the 5th time in a row. It is all a part of the game. But campers?
It’s just about the winning. It has nothing to do with enjoying the game. And I am not about the winning. I am about having a laugh and enjoying myself. Snipers and campers ruin that for you. They hide away, afraid to get involved in the real action and just wait for people to happen by their sight so they can pop a shot off at them. They are, in short, pussies. Afraid to turn a corner and do the lets-all-spin-in-circles-trying-to-shoot-the-other-guy dance. I love watching back my last moments as some lucky bastards lobs a grenade randomly and it happens to stick to my head. I laugh and curse/praise the guy who did it. He got lucky and deserves the kill.
Snipers do not. They are the vultures of the gaming world. Lurking about, sticking to the outer edges of the maps and waiting for the lone guy to happen across his path for him to pick off without fear of being confronted by another guy.
It gets me annoyed. I always end up leaving the lobby and rejoining until I find a decent group of people who enjoy the game as much as I do and we can run around happily slaughtering each other.

The only other group of players that annoy me are the run/jump/lay down/jump again/lay down/dive/jump/dive/run crowd. You know? The ones whose character looks like a man who has just taken a shit load of speed and had a jalapeño shoved up his arse. I love Black Ops for its realism (well as realistic as a game can get) and this just ruins it.
On par with the cowardly campers, the Jumping Bean Brigade ruin the game for people. They take the realism and the fun away from the game. If a real soldier acted like their characters the battle field would be littered with asthma pumps, empty Deep Heat canisters and discarded Lucozade bottles.

If I am to continue enjoying this game I seriously think I need to find a forum where like minded people gather to play and enjoy the game. That or get myself a headset so I can at least verbally abuse these annoying little fuckwits after each match. That or, worse, sing love songs during the next game.

 

Mr McC

February 19, 2012

The thing about anonymity, is…

Filed under: Mrs McChin — themcchins @ 4:07 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Imagine a world in which you didn’t have to monitor every word you wrote. You didn’t have to curb your opinions, and you didn’t have to include a disclaimer on every profile you own.

Imagine a world in which you didn’t have to hide behind a “locked account”. You didn’t have to worry about “Tim from HR” finding your profile. You didn’t have to worry about an embarrassing photo or tweet circulating your office.

My name is(n’t) Mrs McChin, and I believe that everybody would benefit from online anonymity.

There has been a great hoo-hah surrounding online anonymity recently. Half of this, of course, is due to Anonymous themselves, and the naive assumption that not having your name written publicly online makes you a ferocious hacker on a mission of governmental overhaul. And for the other half, we can thank online bullies.

Let’s just take a step back for moment. My husband and I decided to create these accounts back in 2010 (August, I think) because we wanted a fresh start, some people to have lulz with and a bit of detachment from our everyday lives. We agreed that the most we would give away would be the fact that we’re a couple, we live in Milton Keynes and boring things like our state of employment or even what we’re eating for dinner. We would say nothing that would confirm our true identities, lest somebody from our private lives would discover our profiles and put two and two together.

The profiles were created with the intention of detachment from reality, but that didn’t mean we had to automatically put up a barrier and rule out the option of making friends. We have still managed to forge friendships throughout our time online. People who follow me on Twitter know the music I listen to, the TV I enjoy and the films I watch. Some know mundane things like the fact that my favourite food is Italian (though one particular Spanish restaurant is my favourite place to eat!) and that my favourite colour is green. Friendships go deeper than that, though. Knowing things about somebody doesn’t mean you know who they are as a person. My husband and I have made (and lost) good friends on these Twitter accounts in exactly the same way we did when we had accounts in our real names; the only difference is that this time we didn’t jeopardise our privacy. (And people didn’t un-friend us because they got pissed off when their pushing and pushing and pushing for personal information came up with nothing. Seriously? It’s creepy how much anonymity tantalises peoples’ minds and gives them the urge to be the only one to know even a snippet of information that others don’t. The key is staying strong and never waivering from your personal ‘rules’. When that person gets bored and moves on because they’re coming up with nothing, you’ll be glad you didn’t give anything away.)

When discussing the point of anonymity, the first argument always used is that anonymity encourages online bullying because users feel they are no longer responsible for their actions. Sure; somebody might be ignorant enough to believe that not publishing your name online means that you will not be held responsible for the words you say. But if they, for example, use their anonymity to hide behind threats, not having their name online will not make a difference. When you are on the internet, every word you say is tracked and linked back to you. Heck, I’m surprised some semi-skilled hacker hasn’t approached me with my name and home phone number before now. The point is, you are never anonymous online. You are still accountable for every word you say. If I was to log in to Twitter right now and tell somebody I knew where they lived and was going to sneak into their house tonight and burn their children, I would still be in trouble with the police. Being called Mrs McChin when I log in does not make the blind bit of difference. Besides, if somebody wants to hurt you enough, they will want to do it using their real name. Might I remind you of our little stalking problem? Case and point.

People seem to have no concept of how much they give away on the internet. I know the home addresses of so many people thanks to idiot-bait like foursquare, and would have absolutely no problem finding those people if I wanted. Why people seem so keen to give up so much of themselves online, I can’t understand. People lose jobs because of stupid, flippant remarks online. Even in my job, I had to sign a contract saying I wouldn’t mention my company (or anybody employed by said company) in any negative way on any social networking site or blog; yet because I am Mrs McChin on Twitter, I am able to bitch and moan online when I have a bad day at work, and I do not have to hold it in and stew about it on my own because Mrs McChin did not sign that contract. Nobody in my company knows who Mrs McChin is. I think if I was to approach some of the people I follow and tell them just how much I know about their lives, they would be absolutely terrified. Imagine that information in the hands of somebody who became obsessed with you, or even stalked you. The moment something is published online, it is there forever. It is much easier not to disclose personal information in the first place than to try and cover your tracks once you need to.

I just felt the need to write this blog because I have seen so many people having a go at others because they’re anonymous – whether it’s “they must be too ugly to have their own picture”, or “they must be a cowardly bully because they’re hiding behind a false name”. The truth of the matter is, when somebody is anonymous they’re (usually*) showing self-respect and common sense.

Your privacy is the most precious thing in the world.
Treasure it.
Go anonymous.

Mrs McChin.

*I know that not everybody’s intentions are as pure as ours. Sometimes people DO just want to cause trouble. But, let’s be honest: whether Mrs McChin calls you a slut or John Smith calls you a slut, all you can (or, rather, SHOULD) do about it is press block and pretend it didn’t happen.

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