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.


mushy

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.

 

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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.

Recently I have been in jail

I have been in jail for a short while, true.

Would love to have enough energy for the bother of converting the badly hand written dairy entries into something worthy of posting on this, the worlds shittest blog.

No energy can be spared. As I type this nearing 1am, the one eye is shut. The other thinks it saw a mouse scurry around the skirting. It may have. It may not have. There is little food in the house, so if  there was a mouse, who cares? There are large stabs from the dull knife of mental pain.

The brain does not differentiate from physical pain and mental pain awfully well. Thankfully there is more than enough of both that the borders between the two are blurred. More than blurred – the effect where the cold southern ocean and the warm waters from equatorial pacific conjoin in a lovers embrace more sums up my existence within my 182cm, 81kg frame.

Jail is full of characters. Some very intelligent people whom are waiting trail for murdering some idiot.

One guy whom represented his country at war (a few steps above FIFA under twenty ALL WHITES for commitment) has a bullet wound or two. His two mates got killed each side of him. He was found unconscious by an American patrol. He had pulled his side arm and killed two people whom were intent on finishing him off. He came home to good old John Key’s New Zealand and ACC was too hard to deal with. WINZ weren’t helpful once he was out of hospital. His Dad died. His shot leg and head injuries cause a bit of issue. The shrapnel thrown off by the grenade that cost one friend the entire left side of his brain, skull and upper torso is throughout his body. He is in jail for robbing TV’s, stereos and jewellery from richer people than he. Some of them probably know John Key. Some of them definitely would know (or were) Military brass types. 

I have the book rights. Thankfully for the world when you leave me in a cell with two or three people for an hour they will talk to me about PTSD, ADHD, DYSLEXIA, PSYCHOPATHY and, arguably, worse than the whole lot – ISSUES WITH THE MISSUS AND KIDS.

Addiction, mental health, bad luck….. To study inmates and their issues you really need to be an inmate. I have crazy stupid tattoo’s. I have few teeth. I have just enough intelligence to keep up with the clever and encourage the not quite so. Just like running the Mental Health unit Narcotics Anonymous meeting, I can not only empathise, but identify with these people and their plights.

There are some real stories there. Stories your average reporter would not find. Links between being locked up and your ex partner seeing you with a hotter young lady are obvious. But when you have been split up for ten years the Courts will laugh it this. I believe it. For I have had one or two myself.

deadbeat

 

After spending six weeks in jail throughout May and early June, I am sorry to report staggering examples of Police ruining peoples chances at life by spreading information unlawfully.

It could be considered worse than unlawful, for it is criminal.

 
 
 
 
FRIDAY, APRIL 10th.

 
After being told there was “no warrant to arrest” on a charge in the District Court I went home with my 11 year old daughter. 
 
One hour later the police arrived, arrested me in front of my daughter and told me that we would be half an hour whilst they filled out paperwork. I left daughter with a friend. As soon as I was in their car they told me I would be there overnight as the court had shut for the day although it was 1pm….
 
Against my express wishes they rung my daughters mother and told her all about me being in trouble and being arrested. I specifically told them that they had no right to tell someone else about my arrest and that my daughter had her own phone, knew how to contact her mother, grandma and other people.
 
They went on to furnish their story stating that I had left my child in the care of someone they considered untrustworthy. My daughter has stayed with these people before, and has slept overnight there with the couples daughter whom is only a month or two older.
 
The mother of my daughter picked our daughter up at 8pm, which shows she was unconcerned about any threat to our child. 
 
The police also tried to ring her new partner at work and tell him about it. Although he has never met me properly and has no say in the day to day care of myself our my child, the Police exaggerated the circumstances and generally made the situation into something it should not be. 
 
I was released the next morning about 10am and the mother of my daughter was obviously not in the least happy.
 
 
 
TUESDAY, APRIL 28th.
 
For the first time ever my kids Mum and her partner came to football training. I am the football team coach, and have been for two years with three different teams. 
 
My child’s mother took our daughter early and was perceived to be looking for trouble by other parents. Subsequently to this, the mother of my daughter punched me five times in front of many witnesses.
I carried on playing football with the children and tried to handle the situation. Her new partner rung police after he pushed me and had decided that I was assaulting his new partner. She stands at the side of the field and shouts abuse, including that I am a paedophile and should not be allowed around children. 
 
 

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29th

 
I presented at Wellington Central Police station to tell them about the mother of my daughter hitting me five times in front of the child’s football team and parents at football training. Officer {**18} told me directly that “you (I) are full of shit and that matter has already been dealt with“. 
 
I recorded the conversation from that point on. The matter already “being dealt with” was basically them trying to find a way to stuff me with something. The facts are that I was assaulted by two people in front of fifteen children and many parents during our football team training.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY 1st


Police came to my house in some numbers and charged me with assault by way of issuing a paperwork summons to appear in court. Why they needed so many officers and why they acted so aggressively is obvious – They were trying to get me angry and acting badly so there would be a proper excuse for another arrest and charge – resisting, disorderly behaviours or similar. 

After being charged with assault they rang the football club I was coaching for and told them that under no circumstances should I be allowed to coach football. I do not know what is being said, by whom. I do know that the football club is run by two ex Navy accountant types whom are probably good friends with the higher up Police… Maybe they all sit down at the Wellesley together and discuss issues. Maybe I was worthy of thirty seconds of their time as they nudge nudged and guffawed…

 
EMAIL FROM “L”TO ME, 3rd June 2015…
 
“””Dear NZFIEND
I am writing to you with regard to your role as a volunteer coach for the Grade 11 _________________ AFC.
In my role as Chairman of the club I have received communications from Capital Football and the NZ Police that I am now burdened with acting upon. The advice I have received is that the club should not employ you in a volunteer role as a junior coach. While I am not in receipt of detail as to specific circumstances it is incumbent upon me to heed this advice because regardless of any possible militating factors the club cannot take any risk in regard to the way it manages pastoral care for junior members through volunteers.
As a result it is with regret that I must now let you know that your volunteer coaching role must end, effective immediately. I understand that the coaching you have carried out for the club has been enjoyed by the children in the teams with which you have been associated, and I thank you for the contribution you have made.
Regards
LS – CEO of the AFC“””
 
 

I have asked three times in writing for information regarding WHO rung the club and WHAT was said, but have not even received an acknowledgement of my request. I guess this is what you should expect from a bunch of high ranking military people and police.

If I am accused of being a paedophile or a danger to children, I WANT TO KNOW! I now have to use official information act and / or privacy act requests to find out what is being said, and whom is saying it.

Louis appears to have secret discussions with police…At the time of my ex partner getting ME arrested for assault, I sent her some text messages and commented on some of her Facebook photos with what I thought of her partner pushing me, trying to get me to fight him, and then ringing police when I didn’t take the bait.

 
 
 
SATURDAY, MAY 2nd 
 
The police sent me texts and phone calls saying they want to speak to me at odd hours like 6am. I replied by text and voice call to a voicemail asking them why they wished to see me again. Also, quite clearly, I asked if it was urgent and what they wanted. They said “come in and see us urgently” but would not explain why. I declined to take up their nice offer as I had a football team to run and was due in Porirua at 8.30am. Last time they told me I would only be an hour “at the most” I was kept overnight and my daughter is now very perturbed when she see’s police. My daughter also jumps when there is a knock on the door and is worried the Police are coming to take Dad away. Anyway – Our team played well and we got a 3-3 draw. The best result the team has had, ever.
 
 
 
MONDAY, MAY 4th
 
Police have been coming to my house every few hours throughout the weekend and the neighbours have been interviewed and are getting annoyed by Police waking them up by kicking on my door. I have been elsewhere. Being happy and entertaining.
 
At approximately 8pm I am walking home and see a Police car drive past me a few times and park half a block from my house. I got the shop, buy some things and walk out as the car drives off again
 

At 9pm I received a text from a member of the football club saying that my daughter will not be part of the team any further as her Mum is taking her out of the team and not allowing me to see her. I send a text to my childs Mum…

4 May 21:31
Idiot.
Let ***** [our daughter] play football, she loves it.
About time you started doing what was right for the whole family we have, not just yourself.
You need to talk, but you ran across a field screaming like a stupid crazed animal and punched me 6 times.
You are stupidly carrying on [like] this.
 – direct copy of txt from cellphone
 

The neighbours come out to tell me the Police were there again. At approximately 9:35 pm I am talking to a lady police officer on the telephone whom says “MAN UP AND FACE THE CHARGES.” What charges? What are you on about? “BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS”

TUESDAY, MAY 5th


So, in the Police station, we have a video interview at 1am. I have been awake quite a lot with worry about the situation with my child and also have spent a couple of nights in others beds, so I am worn out and very tired. 
 
It comes as a surprise when I am kept in a court cell for the whole morning waiting for my appearance. I stand in the dock and find the Police are objecting to bail and want me in custody. I have not properly at all (the police have no pillows and since my clothing had string in it around the hood of the “hoody” top, they had removed those – it was cold, there is no bedding other than a cover that extends from feet to belly button. I was due to be at football training at 3:30pm and that is something to b taken very seriously. Letting down a bunch of kids – some of whom come straight from school so would be their unsupervised – by having their coach abandon them is a bloody serious thing.
 
The “Public Defendants Office” Lawyer told me that there is no way I could bail today and that “in these situations we keep you in for three or four days and let things cool off and then you will get bail on Friday.” She repeated this later with “Tony, we simply have you on a cool off period for a few days and then you will be bailed. Just do not apply for bail today.” I was charged with 5 BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS for sending some five text messages after she punched me repeatedly with children (including our own child) watching. The protection order has been in place 13 years. If I had so much as raised my voice at this person during 13 years I would have been charged with a breach already, yet Police claim in court I have been threatening and abusing and repeatedly and consistently disrupting the lives of my daughter and her mothers new family. One of these offences is the above text message, which is claimed to be ranting, abusive and threatening.
 
I told her I did not want her “legal” advice and represented myself. Bail was denied, even though the judge made many errors including deciding that I had committed “male assaults female” against the mother of my daughter last year. I have never, once, assaulted the mother of my daughter. Full stop.


The Police have lied the whole way through in order to keep me in jail. I was going to write exaggerated, as there are plenty of examples of that. But actual lies sum it up better…

The Police state that I knew they were searching for me, that I was actively running from them and they had to catch me. They state, in court documents, that I was actively hiding and taunting Police. I was, according to them, abusive to officers and was showing off that they could not catch me.. However, I had rung police every single day for four days and they would not tell me why they wanted me. I have told them about being assaulted and I thought that they may be serving me with Family Court papers. They finally told me what they wanted (breach of protection order for texting) and I told them to come and pick me up. In the end I had to jump out in front of the car and flag it down as they were driving straight past me. Yet the judge heard I was “evading and taunting police”.

I have recorded all these telephone conversations with Police and kept all text records.

 
I was sent to Rimutaka prison with a new court date for Friday 8th.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY8th
I had stolen a black ballpoint pen and got a nice guard to give me a bit of paper from one of the computer printers and drew a picture. It shows my hand and my demons being pulled out of the mire by my daughters hand. Although, you can turn the picture upside down and see that me and my past demons and lifestyle are trying to help her out of some pain and difficulties. Call it a mental health exercise…
P119
 


After spending all day in a small cell out the back of Court1, Wellington District Court, I finally appeared at around 4pm. The Police were serious on keeping me in custody. The lawyer, KEITH JEFFERIES, proved to be the worst lawyer I have ever met. He did not come to see me with regards to the matter even though Police had given me new paperwork and what have you. He therefore stood up and even the Police prosecutor said “Keith is probably not aware, but here is the latest stuff….”
I tried to enter a GUILTY PLEA to sending text messages so that they would have no further reason to hold me in custody.
 
The Judge said that I needed time to consult and instruct a real lawyer and remanded me in Custody until JUNE 25th for this to happen.
 
About this point in time I realised my football coaching was over and that there was little hope of being a proper father to my child for a long time. My rent and bills were starting to worry me and I stood to lose my flat, its contents and my car parked in the off street parking that comes with the rental. 
 
 
 
TUESDAY, JUNE 11th
 
Other inmates told me I should go for “e-bail” and I had filled the paperwork out. 
 

The Police opposed my release from jail (even though I am 24/7 on ankle bracelet locked in my flat) as they claim the victims are so scared. These are the same people whom attacked me in the first instance. There was no fear shown there.

The Police also opposed my release on the grounds I would destroy cell phone evidence. Vodafone, 2Degrees and Spark could all track the texts if they were asked. Also, the texts would still be on the phone I sent them to. The Police wanted me to hand them my phone. I need my phone for evidence. It has recordings of the Police lying to me. It has recordings of the mother of my daughter screaming at me telling me I would never see my daughter again. She claims I would ring her and be threatening, ranting, screaming and abusive. These calls are all recorded and I have told the Police this. They constantly tell the Court that I am a threat to the safety of others based on the “facts” that I am so abusive and threatening on the phone and texts.
 
I was led into court room 1 (directly from the back of a Corrections Department prisoner transport van) just as the Judge was reading out conditions of my release. They include 24/7 home detention. My lawyer had rung or talked to me, as he had promised, and had therefore not put forward the fact I live by myself in a housing block. He had not put forward the best case for my release at all and had not read the file, nor the handwritten notes I had sent regarding the perceived threat and safety of the text message victims. There is no provision in my bail for me to leave the house to get shopping. If I leave the house I will go straight back to Rimutaka jail. To go to doctors, hospital or other appointments I need 24 notice. I am wearing a GPS ankle bracelet.
 
At least I still have a house. There was paperwork taking me to the tenancy tribunal over unpaid rent, but that is now okay. I am not allowed to the carpark where my car is in order to clean it out or move it as it has been sitting across two car parks since my arrest.
 
I needed to get out of jail as I have hand written fifty pages of rebuttal of allegations submitted to the Family Court which removes my parenting order and denies me all contact with my 11 year old daughter. I need to type these up, collect evidence from my phone (including all texts and voice recordings) and convince the Corrections Electronic Monitor Bail “TEAM” that I need to go into town, print out court paperwork, find a J.P or someone who can witness and sign the stuff, and then present it all to the court in Balance St. 
 
The Police would not lay charges against the lady whom stabbed my tyres and destroyed my car as “she said she was elsewhere” even though three neighbours provided excellent descriptions of her and her friend. The Police showed up with a page of photos of girls, all of whom was so similar to the offender that none of the witnesses could positively I.D them. The Police have denied my requests to view and copy the I.D parade they provided. I doubt  it even had a photo of the real offenders on it. So, they tell me their case “does not reach evidential standard” on a number of issues.
…..

Until all of this happened I was seeing my daughter, was being as good father as I was allowed to be. We had a Family Court Order that intended we work together and move forward by ourselves after ten years of bickering. It had taken me a year and a half to go from every second weekend with my daughter to having Tuesday nights as well as every second weekend. Whenever the mother of daughter felt like it, she would take away this Tuesday night as “I only gave it as a good will gesture”. What effect does this have on our daughter? What effect does all of this have on me?

 

DEAD BEAT DAD’s have something going for them…

They get to keep a tenuous link to reality.  

Even if they are in Australia,
not seeing their children
&
hiding from the NZ tax man.

Talking publicly may help. Other ways probably not so much…

Mr. Boulware was also involved in a custody battle with his mother over his 11-year-old son. A hearing was held last Monday. Ms. Hammond said in court documents that in the fall of 2012, Mr. Boulware “talked obsessively” about the mass shootings at the movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and at the elementary school in Newtown, Conn. “He claimed,” she wrote in court papers, “he had known about them beforehand because he had dreamed about them.” She also stated that he bought two new guns in 2013 and “began talking about getting rid of people he didn’t like.” NEW YORK TIMES <- click here….


That bloody mouse was real. Has taken twenty five minutes for my cloudy head to compile this post… The mouse, I feel, is laughing at me. Having sauntered across the side of my vision heading into my bedroom, it has had it’s fill of whatever mouse culinary delights abound within and jogged back, converting whatever protein it found into pure lean muscle mouse.

penfold

You know that glue sniffer alcoholic from a couple of posts ago… Well…

PACMAN PEOPLE TATTOO

Whilst I was there, babysitting her drug overdose attempts, (click here) I could not help but notice I was sitting on an overturned home stereo speaker. She has a mattress on the floor. She has no furniture. Yet she does have an ankle bracelet that does not allow her to remove herself from the premises.

Sucks to be her.

Walked around the front of the housing block just now to see if she was there. Her windows were open, so I walked up the stairs.

“HOLY SHIT, IT’S YOU

Yes, it is me

“Holy Crap, sorry about the other night, I was… Ueeerrrr….”

Really fucked up and using heaps of glue?

“Ueeeeerrr… Yeah…..”

Hey, all good. You want a couch and a seat or what?

“Fucken Aye bro. Thought you were full of shit.

Nah, I have a large three, two and one seater on the roof of my car. Been there for ten days now. Looks like it might rain, so better move them off the roof…

“Choice bro. Fucken unreal. You’re not kidding me?

No, I will be back in a couple of minutes.

“I would come help, but I can’t leave the whare(*) aye bro”
(pointing at ankle bracelet)

Yeah, all good… See you in a minute.

 The most amazing thing about this exchange was she remembered me at all. She remembered I told her had a couch for her was therefore not that amazing. Amazingly, although completely nuts and abusing every mind numbing substance known to man, she looked at me clear eyed and she honestly looked as though she remembered all the good things we had shared between the bouts of conscience killing “rest periods.”

So looked at me with respect, tolerance and knowledge. 

This may have been as I treated her with respect, tolerance and shared knowledge with her that night when babyshitting her.

I did not tell her we had met before. Nor will I tell you. 

This is the only trickle down effect that the worlds economists will ever find true…

Second hand furniture, car parts and clothes.

Without them, the global economy would be totally full of shit.

Couch on Ford Futurlane

Found a guy to help me carry the stuff up to her flat. Would only just fit up stairs and through door. Did not tell the guy I had skinned a knuckle and cut my thumb. He was only helping me, and I was only helping someone else. Did not seem correct to complain about him pushing when he should have been pulling. Even if it did make me wince.

You see, this girl really appreciated this. She probably didn’t even appreciate the couch and chair as much as she appreciated someone doing what they said and not “being full of shit aye bro”.

She looked so fucken grateful.

You can take all your “boundaries” and “ethics” and shove them.

Upon leaving she frowned. I walked back and brushed the frown off with a stroke of a finger on her forehead.

You cannot do that as a registered counsellor or other professional employed in such a capacity without some rather dodgy charges being laid… 

For me, it was worth it. Seeing the frown replaced with a smile and a warm goodbye is okay.

My boundaries are declining to tell her my name, flat number or contact details.

See –

I am learning. Has taken a hell of a fuck up or two. But it is am learning. Even evolution.

(*)
WHARE a Māori hut or dwelling place
pron far-ee (kind of – you roll the R into an L a little… Far-le…. Sort of.

ADVOCATE GETS TRESPASS ORDER UPDATE

The Capital Coast District Health boards mental health operations manager… Uhm. Fucked if I can really remember his superbly convoluted title, so here is a copy direct from CCDHBDSM webshite…


John Zonnevylle

Operations Manager – Specialty Mental Health & Addictions Services

(Just a quick note John, Speciality is spelt with a bloody i in it,
get “them” to look into it, quick smart)

OPEN LETTER TO JOHN.

DEAR JOHN,

Sorry, bet you everyone starts their letters with “Dear John” and makes a bad effort at humour shortly thereafter. I won’t, it is below me.

Although, it is kind of amusing now I think about it.

Ahem,

DEAR JOHN,

thank you for your call with regards to my being trespassed from ALL HOSPITAL GROUNDS and ENVIRONS within fifty kilometres of Clarissa Broderick and your offices. The first few minutes of your call, spent discussing your creative job title and possible anagrams got me thinking.

With a couple of re-arranged placements we have ;

  • Ham Moss
    Health Addictions Manager – Mental Operations Specialty Services 
    although I will put i’s in specialty from now on for you. The good people at Black Sheep Creative will fix this for you on the site. Just email them. They are a lot more responsive than anything you’re used to.
  • Ash Moms
    Addictions Speciality Health – Mental Operations Manager Services
  • Sham Oms
    Speciality Health Addictions Mental – Operations Manager Services
  • Has Om Moms
    Health Addiction Services – Operations Manager – Mental Services
    HAS – to hold, possess, or accept in some relation, as of kindred or relative position:
    OM – a mantra and mystical sound of Hindu origin, the symbol (right, in orange to suit the robes, is the symbol OM – from levitatingmonkey )
    MS –  title of respect prefixed to a woman’s name or position: unlike Miss or Mrs., it does not depend upon or indicate her marital status.

This last one one is quite neat. There are a dozen more, some could even be considered offensive if you thought hard enough.
Luckily for you, not thinking appears to be well under control.

After the first few minutes spent laughing at your job title, you (somewhat professionally) managed to steer the conversation into a more professional pathway.

You, personally, are not the mystical “LEGAL” people that the other departments had promised would ring me, but your convoluted title did sound reasonably impressive. I have always challenged my daughter to become a doctor, but now nurses get such titles, I may reconsider.

Now, John, you would not discuss anything with me and simply wanted to put me in place an tell me “what for”.

This is not good enough.

The Addiction DisServices you claim to be partly responsible for are constantly screwing with peoples lives.

Here is a really good little point –

You work in a
PUBLICLY OWNED INSTITUTION
and are wholly employed to
SERVE THE PUBLIC.
If you cannot stand one little ounce of
PUBLIC SCRUTINY
or
INDIVIDUALS PURSUING SERVICE 
then maybe you should take a new look at working in such a service.

Others have said to me… “but you know nothing, I have been working in this field for twenty years…”… My point to them is that in twenty years since I was on the methadone programme in Wellington, NOTHING HAS BLOODY WELL CHANGED.

It has even got worse.

 

Since you banned me from any PUBLICLY OWNED HOSPITAL IN WELLINGTON I have had a dozen or more service users contact me with personal stories and complaints. Some are simply moving to other areas of NZ where they get treated better. Some are stuck under your services care. And that scares me John.

Since trespassing me your service has administered the exact care regime my clients were asking for, but you would not supply. I argued for them, got banned, and as soon as I was no longer part of the equation, you gave them what they asked for orginally.

See, John. Look here. I actually do have a reasonable understanding of addiction, drugs and people whom use them. I honestly could be an asset to you and your service if you used me correctly.

I talk with people all over the world. Some very prominent researches both in NZ and overseas. Some very prominent authors from all over the planet. Some lawyers. Some psychiatrists. Sometimes I even talk to the psychiatrists without laying on a couch first.

I have emails and all sorts of contacts from all over NZ and the planet in support of my stance here.
I am not pushing my own barrow. I am simply sticking up for people who are in no position to stand up for themselves. 

I talk with these people as I would with anyone. Yourself included.

Doesn’t matter if you’re a bow tie wearing politician , the head of the NZ Productivity Commission, or the junky in the street laying in a recovery position – I will talk to you all the same. That is a promise. And something people actually come to trust. Just trust me on that one John.

Some people on this list even talk to me. I have recent emails of support from some of them. Some of them, of course, don’t talk to me. Unlike you, John, all these people have seen me face to face and like some of what I do. My heart is in the right place, my morals are good, even if my ethics are slightly corrugated. 

John, when I asked why you trespassed me and you replied that I was threatening and intimidating staff, all I can think of is that when your employed doctor says “the studies don’t support that theory” and I ask “which studies?” the doctors you employ find any questioning of their knowledge intimidatory and threatening.

I hold little hope of the service moving forward. Given the fact that when I asked for further examples of this you basically yelled at me that you “are not discussing this, goodbye” the people under you can be forgiven for doing the same thing.

Just how Clarissa is still under you is another question I am having trouble with.

Yours Sincerely,

mushy

 

 

Samtsirhc Yrrem

Once upon a time there was a little boy who hated Christmas carols and shopping centre festive music.

He liked titles by the likes of Joy Division, Depeche Mode, UB40 even Iron Maiden and Sex Pistols. He was born in ’73. That means music was responsible for the way this guy turned out. Bloody EMI. Click on the band names. The favourite song will load in a new window for your pleasure whilst reading this, the worlds shittest blog.

He wrote his own computer publication and signed himself off as “Sir” K..Ynot.

He was, some would claim still is, left handed.

Signed his name backwards, he did.

Arguably there is a tenuous link to reality via some far flung theory combining left handedness and learning to write using fountain pens and ink wells.

Years later the “K.Y” part of the backwards name turned out to be useful.  6d makes more sense to him than 69. 

It still does.

At age fourty there is another guy who writes crap,
puts a narcissistic “Sir” in front of his handle,
thinks he is clever and even
claims to be capable of rigging elections.

slaterCLICK ON PICTURE FOR MORE

Mr Slater (click above) is a bit of a right wing knob.

Me, being left handed, know all about the way the right suppress the lefties. They call us “reds” and organise witch hunts, wars and pick at as mentally with subtle things like calling us sinister.

Mr Slater and I agree on one thing. We both like CHARLOTTE DAWSON. I like her for all sorts of reasons. I think she may have been left handed. And adopted. There are statistics and those who think these things go hand in hand….

You know what I think about addictions and mental health. Problematic ones that is. Non problematic addictions can go take a running jump. If you need drugs to play football with your kid, or converse with people on your deathbed, then go tell CCDHBDSM and it’s head Mistress to go tie herself up some place nice and quiet. Leave a cellphone just out of reach and leave saying “if I am gone more than an hour, call me”.

After all, it is what they do to a bunch of mental health and addiction clients whom need to sort out their medications over the holiday period.

Addiction to power. Different from being a right wing knob addict. But probably similar enough to have problems getting proper diagnosis.
The Discipline Sadism Masochism for Virgins Manual (DSM-V) will sort out these discrepancies in its next edition.

I have pain.

Constant pain. Sometimes crippling. Mostly just a bloody pain.

I get tattoo’s and the pain in my back seems less for a day or two. Hell, I got these ones over the last fortnight. My birthday and Christmas presents to myself.

O for OarSum. Simply freaken Class A.

geoff_crammond

 

  • Bill Bennett has not sent me a Christmas card.
  • Cameron Slater neither.
  • Nor Clarissa Broderick, Sandy Baigent, Lucy Politini…
  • Tom Flewett would never send me a card. Clarissa will not allow him. 
  • Neither did I get a card from one of my best mates sons who died.
  • None of my mates who died since I gave up drug abuse last year.
  • But wait. No one from N.A has either.
  • In fact, no living person has given me a card or Christmas wish without me sending one first.
    This is Christmas and I can’t be fucked. 

Makes me want to go and use drugs. Hard and long. Repeatedly. Like wanking with a needle full of smack.

But the drugs will not take the pain away.

The day they find a cure for pain is the day I throw my drugs away.

http://youtu.be/985JGeGq_tc?t=34s

But then, I have another eureka moment.
Definitely re-inventing the wheel again.

you can’t fuck the pain away

Not even according to Peaches. And she should know. She looks worthy.
I can just tell.
Some girls get a shock if you say “nice arse” or
flick your tongue out and air guitar with it as you walk past.

Others have worked out you may be a little more than the average pervert builder.

Some turn and wink.
Some turn and abuse.

Some lift their bums higher with their heels and strut off,
leaving a vapour thin trail of expensive perfume and
pheromone like particles discharged by overt displays of power and authority.

Hi, I am NZ FIEND, and I am an addict. 

Hi, NZ FIEND.

Today I am going to share about getting Chlamydia in my eyes………. I may not be Brad Pitt. Nor Stalone. Nor even the rough teddy bear guy that girls want to take home and nurture. But, I am worried. Has anyone here got a “how to tell if you’re an addict” SLA style?

http://www.slaawellington.org.nz/40Q.htm

For fucksakes, bugger. Fuck me. 

Should I really jump into bed with another group of dysfunctional addicts?

Their definitions of recovery seem to be “shut up, have a totally boring life and do all you can to be a good capitalism addict.” Becoming a good “economic unit” is part of every definition of recovery from the industry. “Having a job” is listed by a lot of addicts. This just shows how capitalism has screwed you hard and fast. Shouldn’t having the skills to bring up your kids be more important. Even capitalists should see this.

The kids are going to be much better capitalists if they’re not in jail, on drugs and chasing skirt all day. Spending more time with your kids would probably even stop ADHD (along with banning TV adverts, of course….)

Capitalism addiction is the bloody worst.

You can keep it….  Your capitalism addiction.

I’ll keep mine…. Compulsion to please females pubic areas.

After all, it is not hugely problematic………..
Well, not to the global economy or capitalist markets. I will not change the price your house sells for (unless the purchaser notices the rock climbing equipment anchors in the cieling – in which case the price may actually go up…)
…………….unless you are an ex-partner who kicked me out for giving other ladies orgasms. (sorry)

Unless you are the girls whom I want nothing to do with (other than your sex, of course) as you all give me headaches telling me shit. (sorry)

Unless you are the person whom is so damn straight you got a surprise and crashed when you saw a couple having sex on top of the entrance to the main motorway tunnel. (sorry)

If you’re the policewoman whom complained about a lady with long blonde hair bobbing up and down in front of my waist whilst standing in front of five thousand people at a New Years gig… (sorry you were ten metres below us and couldn’t join in…)

I owe all of you people a great deal of amends.

I owe you.
Would that be cash, credit card or oral?

 

Well, that is Christmas wasted. One step at a time. Entirely fucking backwards.

 

 

42 tips and insights for understanding an addicts mind

 

OKAY. The answer to life, the universe and everything was 42.

He missed it by seven.

Oops, do I smell missed marketing opportunity. Someone ring Saachi and Sacchi.

Still, am damn sure I posted something about this. But site stats suggest none of your lazy arses have clocked your eyes on it.

Sort it out people.

I have met methadone victims with more motivation than the readers of my, the worlds shittiest blog, blog.