It took eighteen radio seconds to introduce an interpretation of an unquoted comment. This was followed by one minute and eighteen seconds of statement of artistic intent presented in defence against a perceived criticism.

The five minutes and forty-six seconds of outburst that followed what would have been a reasonable conclusion of the matter was unexpected and illuminating.

Four times as long as had been taken to deal calmly with the offence taken at the comment was spent in vilifying the birth gender of the commenter.

It was this broadcast that inspired me to discover the word "misandry" to be the correct term for man-hating.
______

I argue for equality. I do it openly, publicly and, sometimes poetically, in performance, too.

I am happy to speak out of turn from time to time, to say things that challenge accepted or fashionable wisdoms, and I am happy to take the flak for my words and deeds.

I believe everyone else should have the same freedoms of speech and take the same personal responsibility for their words and deeds, too.

However uncomfortable they might be for the unidentified party who made the offending comment, the first 96 seconds of the broadcast piece were not unreasonable.

342 seconds later I had made the sad decision to stop wearing my newest tshirts because I would be undermining my own credibility as an egalitarian were I to continue to promote the source of this broadcast.
______

I realise this counts as a First World Problem but that happens to be where I live. I realise, too, that some people might think my attitude petty but they are not Po.

I'll keep doing my music show because it is fun but Show 08 and beyond will be hosted on my own Spreaker channel.

That way, if you don't leap up from the sofa immediately my show ends you won't be risking an earful of abuse for having been born the way you were you'll just get some more music.

Pastor Po's Rock Show 08

[Probably not a] Frog and Orb

This street was home to three people as I walked along it

This street was home to three people as I walked along it. One had erected a tent, one was in a partly cardboarded-up doorway and the third was less discreetly packaged. - A postcard from the not so saucy side of Seaside City.

Ashcroft and Cameron

In true tabloid fashion, the disclaimer acknowledging the story might be bollocks ...

[that no corroboration of the story has been received by the authors of the book & article and that their request for sight of the photo has been ignored and that the whole thing could just as easily be a case of mistaken identity or even an elaborate hoax and that even the prop said to be in the picture was not an uncommon find at parties attended by students at that university at that time]

... doesn't come until after the authors have told *only of their hearing of* the story themselves.

[Hearsay evidence - noun - (law) evidence based on what has been reported to a witness by others rather than what he has himself observed or experienced (not generally admissible as evidence)]

I'm left wondering whether I am intended to believe the photographer had their own darkroom, seeing as a roll of film with the implied image on it wouldn't be one you would readily entrust to the local chemist for processing or stick in a bag and bundle off to Bonusprint. Certainly not if you were rich, whichever side of the camera you had been.

I think whoever it was blocked Lord Ashcroft's appointment to Government made a good call.

Even if the allegation were to be completely true and blah, blah, blah, I am reassured that the eight million pounds donated by the author to the Conservative Party didn't buy him the level of influence he wanted it to. He appears far too spiteful.

Pastor Po's Rock Show 06

Have a listen to some tunes on

Pastor Po's Rock Show - Episode 6

This episode contains one song with rude words!

My weekly music show on Goddamn Radio www.goddamnradio.com

Meat Thief (FB 18th May 2015)

I was accosted in the street tonight by a meat thief. Not in the sense of anyone walking up masked and demanding I stand and de-liver, that would be odd even by Seaside City standards, but, in the absence of any apron, boater or other relevant paraphernalia that may signify butchery as a trade or profession, I feel it enormously unlikely the selected cuts on offer would have left their intended retailer's premises accompanied by an appropriate receipt.

"Do you eat meat?" was the initial enquiry. A number of interpretations of this question were still jostling with each other in my mind when clarification of sorts came by way of "Fresh meat? Do you eat fresh meat?"

A woman, in her forties, maybe older, maybe younger, hard lives make it harder to tell. Hair, dark and unremarkable framing a face riven with sharp-edged creases throwing high-contrast shadows from an unflattering street light, a black on white, DC Comic depiction of ever-scowling villainy if ever I saw one.

I mumbled an affirmative, honest answer to the question as posed and was genuinely relieved to see her rustle in an unmarked plastic carrier bag before advising me she had meat to sell. It was half past eleven on a Sunday night on the Lewes Road and I really didn't want to have to deal with a radicalised vegan.

Truthfully not boastfully and not to insult, I said I had no need of it and crossed the road away from her continuing pitch, having to repeat the same advice a little more pointedly to draw the encounter to a close.

I carried on my way without further interference and with the lesson learned that if I don't shave for a week I look like someone who might buy stolen meat on the spur of an almost midnight moment.