Innovation – Stolen, without consent…

Here is a little piece by a Wellington thinker and resident caring soul by the name of Mike Sukolski. You can tell him that I have ripped him off here… Thanks to old mate “wanda” for pointing this one out…

Image may contain: hat
Image resultStolen from Mike Sukolski

Whatever Happened To
Just Doing Something Different?

It’s as if we believe we have discovered something new, and now we can’t get enough of it, this innovation thing.

We toss it about, the word at least, like confetti.

According to my dictionary, to innovate is to bring in novelties; make changes in. Really? Well, it is an old dictionary. I got it when I was fifteen. Someone must have bought it for me, it cost thirty shillings, and where would I find thirty shillings. It still serves me well.

Being a little on the old side, however, I thought I should seek a second opinion. So I did, and got this: “to begin or introduce something new.” So there you are, I said to myself, something new, that clinches it. Couldn’t be clearer. A consensus. But is this what we do when we innovate, I said to myself, I do a lot of talking to myself. (I should know.)

Apparently we need to believe it is.

Like Mike Hosking, who believes that news reading is an “artistic pursuit,” we too need to be, or to be seen as, artists. Well, creative, anyway. With grim determination we set out to innovate, as if our lives depend on it. But why? Good question.

And the answer?

Because, in most, if not all, circumstances, we have no idea what to do next.

We wait and wait, hanging around hopefully, analysing earnestly among ourselves, until all the evidence is in, but all the evidence is never in. Never can be, even though we dedicate large sums to looking for it. There always remains the evidence that comes from actually doing the thing, and this we cannot possess, not until we have done it, and found that, after all, our big idea didn’t work.

If only we had waited until all the evidence was in. Relax! We can innovate instead!

You don’t need all the evidence when you innovate, innovation doesn’t rely on evidence, it can’t do, because there there can’t be any, not of the definitive kind, anyway, if its truly to be innovation.

Because if it is truly innovation there will be no precedents, nothing that could secure the necessary foreknowledge of success, or failure. You will be left contemplating an unscientific leap of faith. Or desperation. Or self-esteem. Which doesn’t make a good business case. It won’t impress your bosses.

Luckily, that’s not what we mean, true innovation, in fact it’s the last thing on our minds. Heaven forbid that someone would dare plunge undata-ed into unknown, potentially hostile territory. Stark naked into a shark infested pool. Leave the known world behind and risk unforeseen, if not career-ending consequences. Or worse, no consequences at all.

No, that’s not for us. Not in the real world. In our heads perhaps, yes, in our heads, we do it all the time in our heads, we get degrees in doing it in our heads, there are careers to be had doing it in our heads.

Innovation, you see, is for us nowadays an assertion of personal worth, the source of our self-esteem. And when we are all doing it together, joyfully, in teams, innovation becomes an affirmation of group worth. Truly, you can’t lose! Just tell yourself, and everyone else, that you are innovating and you can safely go ahead and do what you have always done. Nothing can go wrong.

Who will dare be the little boy wondering aloud why the king has got nothing on.

Innovation is the new orthodoxy. It doesn’t matter much what you do just so long as you say it is innovative, and your peers say it is innovative and your bosses say it is innovative and their bosses say it is innovative and the minister says it is innovative.

Thus we consummate a culture of constant change where nothing ever changes. We cannot risk real change, so we innovate instead, and heap accolades upon ourselves. Glittering prizes. Brilliant careers. Truly we are leaders!

The game is a simple one, anyone can play.  And we do, we all do, because we are innovators. Aren’t we? And innovators are never wrong. No, and as we pull our hopes down over us, like a suffocation, from within the reeking hovels of our heads we imagine a new dawn breaking, the beginning of a bold new era, and we believe, all over again we believe.

We sing patriotic songs, while the seas rise around us, the air clogs with CO2, the rains turn our fields to mud, the winds tear our houses down, and a frenzy that is very likely madness sweeps us out of our collective head, but we take no notice, on we rush, triumphantly on, innovating, innovating unto extinction.


Never a truer word spoken.

After spending some time wasting away my ill gotten gains of time and money working in the “addiction leadership group” can safely ascertain that those that be do not want change. But innovation?

Hell yeah. Give us more of that young NZFIEND.

Just don’t you dare change anything in the process.





Enough said. YEAH GIRLFRIEND!pzzvazt2vvcfpgh2tspqwx7dzi




NZ HERALD shares Multi millionaire business guy gets caught with four grams of good old fashioned cocaine, gets name suppression made permanent, gets a small fine, almost zero percent of his net worth…. Meanwhile people like me go to jail for taking a couple of painkillers to get on with everyday life.

Fuck you NZ Justice. YOU OFFICIALLY SUCK. 

Highlighting the gap between the haves and the have knots has never been simpler.

This wanker got caught with FOUR OUNCES (over 100 grams) of pure cocaine and gets fined the equivalent of 0.0001% of his income.

The drug law in New Zealand is garbage. And, although pushed on us by Henry Anslinger followers after the bullshit prohibition on alcohol went west, must be adhered to.

If you, or dare I say it, I, were found with an amount of cocaine large enough to fall into the category of DRUG DEALING, we would be going to jail, no question. Along the way we would not get our names permanently hidden from public scrutiny.

New Zealand “JUSTICE”

Fucken UNJUST.

John Oliver VS Capitalism and Addiction

Remember FOX NEWS said “BUSH HAS WON THE ELECTION” so all the other news outfits started doing it so as to not be behind, or miss the scoop. The thing is – BUSH DIDN’T WIN. He lost – but the other guy, hearing that he had lost, threw in his towel and conceded, at which point he was fucked. Don’t forget FOX news was run by one of the Bush family at the time…..

Anyway, slightly off the topic, but when have you ever criticised me for being on topic to start with..?..

We need more honest proper journalism and independent investigative journalists. Nowadays you can spot errors in about every single story on every page of every newspaper. Main TV news seems to be more and more like the internet news of old every day.

And therein lies the problem.

People want cute cats, death and mayhem.

The mass public will not sit through a thirty minute story showing both sides of an argument properly… 110km/h on highways kills people.. Boy racers are all druggies with bald tyres. Cute cat.

John Oliver Does Drugs

Sorry about taking some saturation out of your overly coloured American TV face John old Boy…

And then there is JOHN OLIVER. 

He did his usual fifteen minute of TRUMP BASHING, and to his credit he manages to keep this fresh and interesting each week – or maybe it is just due to the fact Trumpt comes up with so much shit each week he is simply too easy, and then progressed to do an opinion piece on the state of addiction in the good ol’ U S of A.

Not a bad effort… Other than he took great pains to ridicule the term “pseudo addict“.

A term I hadn’t heard of. A term which sounds, on the surface, to be total bullshit.

Good on you John, you are the man.

In the context of a drug company trying to show the world it’s drugs are not the cause of addicts problems, it possibly is bullshit. More than possibly even. Plausible denial anyone?

But wait — There’s more…

(yeah, yeah – you guessed it…. Unca Fiendipoo has a spanner. And a good throwing arm.)

Start scratching under the surface (or maybe just start scratching depending how much of an addict you really are) the theory is quite sound. It may come from the mouth of a pseudo scientist, but someone who exhibits addictive drug seeking behaviour may be no more of a problematic addict than you or I (queue Americans favourite laughing track – the auto chuckle)… 

Fiend says –
“Pseudo addict” may just have a place in this debate on how to deal with the problems of addiction in capitalist environments.

Let us just say… Just for debates sake… 

If I am in pain (me? never…) and need a few opiates to coach my kids football team, I go to the doctor. The doctors glasses slide down his nose and he looks at me sideways. No matter how much they know about my pain, my back, my lifestyle, my parenting or my need to participate in life on terms agreeable to me, the maker and the pharmaceutical companies – the doctor will always look at “addict” potential first and my quality of life second.

Purdue, we have a problem.

And, by the sounds of this John Oliver thing, so do hundreds of thousands of Americans.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have not gone all soft in my old age. Americans can all go still fuck right off and suck Clintons dick / clit dry as far as I am concerned.

However, I feel for the pain and the difficulties the poor people who are controlled by the whim of the pen. On a good day the doctor will write. On a bad day, the doctor wont. The days are not so much swayed good or bad by his kid playing well at football — more the pressures put on him by media, drug companies capitalistic ways and the controlling bodies antiquated views of addiction.

This week John Oliver has told the world the drug companies are confusing the doctors. They obviously need to play with their own product some more.

John Oliver. Take time to read GLOBALIZATION OF ADDICTION.

Or, since no one has an attention span any longer than a thirty second sound byte (I know – I am ADHD super hero number 666) …

Dear John @iamjohnoliver

please look up Dr. Gabor Maté  on YOUTUBE.

Thank you, and goodnight.

John seems to have pitted himself against capitalism AND addiction. The first time anyone in history has managed this. A little like … hell … cannot quite work out what it’s like.

Maybe I am very much every inch totally drug fucked as the idiots at Wellington Addiction Services would tell you.

Just had to write something

Has been a while. Really should write more, contemplate less. For, after all, it is better out than in.

Unless you are contemplating walking around with your penis out

Have had no time at my computer for quite some time. Re posting other peoples good work on twitter, facebook or wordpress is a copout. So, no way I would ever simply fill a gap in my own pathetic attempts to keep my life in order via journal. Hell no…

As part of the GILEAD drug trial for what is now known as Subosifor (or some shit spelt similar) it is sad that people like me will not be able to get the drug in NEW ZEALAND for some time. I spent my own money and time for this research. Although there will be a tattoo of ED GANE’s signature on my liver (hey ED – You still have not sent me a copy of your signature – I will have to make one up shortly….) there will be no love lost between NZ and GILEAD.

My Doctor (G.P) claims to be on a “board” which is looking into the pharmac funding of these drugs… It is interesting in this world of capitalist fucking clowns that hundreds of thousands of people in poorer countries are getting the very drug that JOHN KEY and NATIONAL right wing politics denies us here.



So, just had to write something today. Was looking for PHEONIX FOUNDATION VIDEOS (specifically this one…)

and just HAD TO write something….

Subscribing to MEMPHIS CHANNEL the video at top of page was 3,666 views. You just cannot beat people on the same wavelength.


I have two days to move all my stuff and find a place to live.

Instead I am relying on my old motto ;



My higher power

needs a reminder


Love and Tattoo’s. DUMB.

Never pays to get a loved ones name tattoo’d on you. Any old grandma could tell you this. Some would end up with hundreds of names scrawled all over them. Accordingly you may become to be known as STUPID, DUMB or, if the names are not hidden well enough,TOWN SLUT.

Have never really loved anyone enough to warrant a tattoo. Have HATED someone enough to get their name tattoo’d on the bottom of my foot. Have HATED their family enough to get an Angry Bird shitting on their family name on my arm.


What the fuck is this love thing you talk of anyway?

Turns out that love is sending someone a picture of your latest tattoo and then getting very worried when they don’t email, text, phone or come to you in your dreams for an eternity.

This goes on and on. You get worried sick. All the emails and words spoken flash before your eyes constantly. You stop eating. You sit at the computer and push refresh on GMAIL ten times every minute.

You give up and realise you have lost them to a life far more interesting.

Mind you.. It has only been twelve hoursI may be jumping the gun a little.


Hey – Just had a thought…. Rolling of eyes…
The concept of love once made me vomit…
Here’s a graphic for those without good vivid illustrative imaginations……..
This escapee pigeon of the cast iron stomach breeding program clearly shows my vomit at love in all its glory.
Or, oh my giddy aunt (not that she was a town bike, honest)…


Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggg. I am giving myself a headache of interstellar variety and magnatude.

By the time this nonsense wears of I hope the effects of sending my latest tattoo photo has similarly worn off. The twenty year old girl whom should just pack her bags and fly around the planet with me is well worth not pissing off.

And, most definitely, well worth not vomiting on.

 don’t even think about it


Being exceedingly clever and well rounded has its drawbacks. Of course, avoiding the temptation to claim every wink as “love” and ending up with a list of names longer than your right arm is one of these. Instead all my tattoo’s are about addiction in a purely binary fashion. You hate, you love. You addict. You hate. Uhm. You work it yourself.


Here I am, as of twelve hours ago. Sent this picture and have not heard back.

Guess I am not going to get her name tattoo’d on me after all. Phew.

What I am thinking is to get DR ED GANE scan and email me his signature for a torso filling tattoo approximately covering the area of liver.

It may just appeal to his sense of irony and humour.

He, having invented some drugs that were tested on my liver, should comply happily. Somewhat sceptically perhaps, but eventually… Happy. May even be a little love, F.O.C?

However, the visualised forthcoming lecture regarding dangers of sterilisation of having tattoo’s done at home would just take the fun out of it. Ed’s enthusiasm for his topics is limitless, boundless and something akin to “mad professor hyper focused ADHDism”…

My tenacity for all things, including really dodgy tattoo work, is equally overpowering.



Now, back to reality… Has my young lady friend emailed back yet?


The note that cheered me up…

Received this note randomly in my inbox. Never chatted before, bit similarities abound.

Published with his support…

I know the feeling of not being able to open certain web pages out of sheer, squirming anxiety. This was appropriate when I was on home detention/probation for 12/6 months respectively for buyin’ the durgs off the ‘net, and I wasn’t allowed shit that could speak hypertext.

Don’t feel obligated to reply, I’m just writing in support. Channel your energies into whatever gets you through.  I started cooking really nice food spent well over 600 hours playing open-world games on Xbox.  I remember I made a stollen with a log of marzipan through the middle.  Holy fuck, it was good.

Got close to this state again looking after my girlfriend’s place out in the wops while they were in England.  I mean it was beautiful out there but I don’t have a driver’s license or a car.  What drove me nuts about it was being fucken spied on by the neighbours.  I had my mate around and I get a call from England saying that my brother (!) isn’t allowed at the house (he’s perceived as a dodgy cunt, long past the days of his legal high habit).  My mate going around the side of the house in the dark to look for his $1500 camera that had been stolen and fucken chewed up by one of the dogs was perceived as skullduggery at its finest.  So two nights in I’m made aware I’m being spied on and told that I’m not allowed any company.

This, of course, was reason for me to increase my intake of illicit clonazepam to deal with the craziness.  Every coffee, Irish.  Goes without saying that I smoked dak in/around the place from the start, then after about a month, I forget that thank-fuck-she’s-not-going-to-be-my-mother-in-law‘s separated, depressed lackey husband is coming over and the heartiest bong you ever saw made out of a gatorade bottle, a hose and a brass door peeper hole thing is sitting right there on the floor.

Later that night, my parents get a call from thank-fuck saying to get me the fuck out.  Cuuuuuuuuuuuuunt, I even offered the guy a sesh and dinner before he snitched on me.

After I left the place, the more responsible neighbours were given my duties and they proceeded to lose one of the cats and dehydrate one of the chickens to death.  I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t still make me grin with HA HA SERVES YOU RIGHT.  I really love animals but in this case they are true martyrs for our crusade against being stigmatised.  Rightly perceiving awkward future encounters between myself and her family, my girlfriend of four years broke up with me soon after she got back from England.  Ah well.

Off the clonazepam now anyways.  Back to study next semester chipping away at the old maths degree.  Taking a 3rd-year English paper entitled Literary Theory which I’m looking forward to.  English papers tend to have no prerequisites, although I did a 2nd-year one on Comedy which was a lot of fun.  When I was on home detention they ended up letting me go to university 5 days a week but I had to sign in/out with campus security every morning and night which actually built a nice relationship with them.  Took a while to suss this but it was a great hack.  I got to travel 26km away to Hamilton by bus every day.  Had to sort out exactly what buses I was taking and give them the bus tickets.

I realise sometimes, fuck, at least I’m not my mate who’s homeless from a marijuana (!!!) habit, combined with what the Powers That B should call ‘unipolar mania’ and everybody else calls ‘bipolar’.  The pigs are now after him now, because of klepto shit that’s a pretty natural consequence of his circumstances.  My other mate was telling me about last time he saw the guy, smoking a whole-tinny joint while publicly taking a piss in a stranger’s yard and hacking out phlegm all over his clothes.  The dude has nobody.  I would be there from him but that day, he racked CDs from my mate’s car, and these two have known each other for over 7 years now.  Then later on, he tried to cause bullshit drama between another of my friends and I.  Can’t be dealing with any more mindfuck at the moment.

Make sure you enjoy something in spite of these fucking control systems.

Peace, so-and-so…