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A plan

I wrote something on Facebook last week about an idea that I want to do, but probably won’t because I’m shit at organising, but I REALLY want to do, involving walking the length of the uk and sleeping rough to highlight homeless issues and campaign to end homelessness.

It’s more involved than just that. The idea was to get in touch with local homeless communities and outreach groups, to meet with them and find out from each local community what issues matter to them, to spotlight their voices, to get in touch with both local and national media, and to basically make homeless issues such an endemic part of the national discourse that nobody can watch the news without hearing about it – and more, hearing about it from the voices of homeless people, rather than the voices of non-homeless people (which is basically what happens now).

The walk involves some detours – an important one being the grave of my girl, who lived through some of my homeless experiences with me and without whom I wouldn’t have survived those experiences.

Yeah, it was a throw away post about something I wish I could do.

The post blew up – as did another post decrying the “all lives matter” trolls for dismantling their own argument by ignoring homeless lives and ridiculing them and being guilty of criminal negligence in respect to homeless people (people of colour are WAY over-represented in the homeless community compared to whites people – basically, if you’re a person of colour you’re far more likely to end up homeless than a white-British person).

People started pitching ideas and volunteering to get involved, from walking stretches with me to helping with organising it and sorting out the media and marketing side.

And so an off-hand post about what I’d love to do, but probably won’t because I’m pretty shit, has turned into an actual THING.

By that, I mean, this might actually happen. Which is terrifying.

I now have people offering their help – including holding my feet to the fire. Which means I’m now ACCOUNTABLE. That shit scares me 🤣

So now it looks like this is a THING. It looks like I’m going to have to do something I really want to do to highlight homeless issues and get local groups and communities more interconnected, and deal with everything that entails.

So yeah. It’s a thing now. I don’t know how it will work or happen. I just know that it will because lots of people want me to do it.

I should stop getting drunk and posting fantasies of who I wish I could be on Facebook.

Physics rule #54

Whatever explanation is the least exciting is the most likely to be true.





President Barack Obama avoids an international incident by skillfully diverting the Pope’s reaching hand away from grasping his penis, thought the tension is evident in the Pope’s determined gaze.

The entire planet was left agasp in a fit of irony, as Pope Francis – the head of the Catholic church, which requires all its clergy to take a vow of celibacy, and who himself has taken this vow and will never have children – declared that not having children was a selfish act.

In what some members of the Catholic priesthood are calling an “impassioned sermon, right up there with anything the big JC ever said, innit”, the old white man who controls the seat of power of a religion populated by women and men who vow never to have sex, in order to make sure they aren’t distracted from their own quest for personal salvation, stated that people who don’t have children are being self-centered and creating a “depressed society”, as the entire world tried not to hold up a mirror the size of St Peter’s Square whilst pissing themselves.

Then the Pope began listing everything that the priesthood does, says and stands for as “selfish”, without even a hint of irony in his eyes.

Several clergy members had to jump on stage and wrestle the Pope to the floor in a dramatic scene, as he began spouting that acquiring lots of wealth and land, advising people not to follow scientific medical advice, and persecuting people were tearing society apart – and that spending all your time immersed in a cult centered around an imaginary friend who you think you can talk to, was not a substitute for going out and making the world a better place.

He was finally dragged away from the microphone and tranquilized just as he began to state that those caught having sex with children should feel the full force of justice.We tried to get someone from the Vatican to comment, but we ended up getting tranquilized and sold into slavery.

Star Wars and the Parsec Palaver: Even if George Lucas did mean to use “parsec” as a unit of distance, he’s STILL wrong.

Trigger warning: This article explains basic geometry and science, with the unfortunate downside of demonstrating that Star Wars is wrong about something, and that the fan boys don’t know what they’re on about. Expect heated comments from angry fans who lack the ability to understand reality, or have a sense of humour, below 😉

OK, it’s time to bury this nonsense once and for all.
Ever since Star Wars: A New Hope originally came out, there has been a minor scandal surrounding the scene where Han Solo declares that he did the Kessel Run in the Millennium Falcon in “less than 12 parsecs”.


Now, it is absolutely obvious that originally George Lucas heard the word “Parsec”, and thought that because it involves the word “sec” (which he correctly thought was short for “second”) then this is a spacey/sciencey sounding unit of time that would be appropriate to drop into a sci-fi film.

Well, it wasn’t long before people explained that it isn’t a unit of time but a measure of distance, and even Neil DeGrasse Tyson weighed in.

Unable to accept a major cock-up in the script of their favourite film, the fan boys went into full mental gymnastic overdrive, trying to come up with why this line could still make sense – talking about a region of black holes that you had to pass through, and that only a fast ship could go a shorter route through this region of space. Therefore, the Millenium Falcon was fast enough to fight against the gravity in this region in order to allow it to take a shorter route that was less than 12 parsecs (or about 39 light years) long.

Sounds good, eh?

Well, actually, no.

Yet again, this may sound good to lay people with no real knowledge of astronomy or astrophysics, but to anyone who ACTUALLY knows what a parsec is, this is just as idiotic as the idea that a parsec is a unit of time, and the fan boys who use it only prove that they have no idea what a parsec even is.

So, let’s first explain what a parsec ACTUALLY is.
The word is an abbreviation, which comes from “parallax arc second”. In short, it is the distance an object is from you when it appears to shift its position by 1 arc second over half an arbitrary distance you or the object travel. It’s basically a measure of parallax and how it relates to distance.

Something should stand out to anyone who isn’t geometrically illiterate or desperately trying to save the integrity of their favourite film franchise – that the distance is dependent on the amount you or the object moves, and hence is not really a standard unit of distance (or rather, wouldn’t be used as one by a space-faring civilization or galactic empire). It is simply a RATIO that relates apparent motion to distance using trigonometry.


It’s used today in respect to the distances of stars from the solar system, using the Earth’s orbit and the apparent shift in the star’s positions throughout the year.
It’s very simple.
Basic trigonometry states that the ratios of the sides of triangles are a function of the angles of the triangle (in fact, this is true of all shapes, and can be called one of the most basic laws of shapes – as it pretty much defines what “shape” means. From this fact we find how similar shapes are defined, because the ratios of their sides are always exactly the same for both shapes no matter what different sizes they are, as long as they have the same number of sides and values for angles).

If we have a right angled triangle, then the ratio between the opposite side and the adjacent side of an angle is a function of that angle, which we call the tangent. That is to say, if we know the baseline of the triangle and we know the angle opposite the baseline, then we know that the adjacent side must have a specific ratio to the baseline which will tell us its exact value.


So here’s how we use that information in astronomy to find the distances to certain stars (those close enough for our instruments to measure any parallax at all).
Measure the position of a star with respect to other background stars on one evening. Then wait until you’re on the other side of your parent star in your orbit and measure the same star’s position and how much it has shifted. Using the semi-major axis of the planet’s orbit as a base line (that is, cutting the diameter of the orbit in half), you can halve the angular shift in the position of the star that you measured and divide the semi-major axis of the planet’s orbit (or its distance to the parent Star) by the tangent of this angle (using radians, rather than degrees), and this gives you the distance to the star you are measuring.


Typically, we talk about it in relation to the Earth, because, well, that’s where all our observations of the universe are made.
So, we know the Earth is about 150,000,000 km from the Sun. We measure the position of a distant star in the night sky, then wait 6 months when the Earth is on the other side of the Sun and measure the same star’s position again.
We now have an isosceles triangle (or something close enough to an isosceles triangle, given the vast distances in space compared to the paltry diameter of the Earth’s orbit being about 300,000,000 km – in fact, time it right and you can make sure it’s exactly an isosceles triangle, but it’s not really that necessary given the immense distances involved). We can cut this isosceles triangle in half, drawing a line from the distant star to the Sun, making 2 right angled triangles.
Over the scales we’re talking, since the distance between the Earth and the sun is only a measly 150,000,000 km and the angles involved are around 1 arc second or even less, then the difference between the length of the hypotenuse of one of these right angled triangles (which is the distance from the Earth to the star), and the length of the opposite side (the distance between the Sun and the star) is essentially zero – they are as close to the same distance as makes no difference. Plus, when we’re talking about the distance to other stars, it only really makes sense to talk about it in terms of their distance from the Sun, or rather the barycenter of the solar system.
Hey presto, you have the distance to the star.

As the angle approaches 0 it’s tangent in radians approaches the same value as the angle itself. This is thanks to something called the “small angle approximation”. So when you convert 1 arc seconds into radians, the tangent of that angle is equal to 1 arc second in radians. This is very convenient because we can also define our distance to the sun as 1 AU (or astronomical unit), which gives us a distance of 1AU/1 arc second, or just 1.
“1 what?” I hear you ask.
Well, 1 parallax arcsecond, or “parsec”.


Actually, I’ve kind of cheated there by having the tangent of 1 arcsecond equal 1, and whilst I still think it’s OK to think in terms of 1 Astronomical unit divided by 1 arc second equaling 1 parsec, I can already hear astronomers and geometry teachers having heart attacks around the world, so I better explain it better.
What actually happens is you convert the arc second into radians, which is 1/3600 x pi/180, which comes to pi/648000. You want to divide 1 AU by this value, which is the same as 648000/pi AU (Any number divided by a ratio is equal to that number multiplied by the inverse of the ratio – so 7/(3/4) is equal to 7 x 4/3). That means a parsec viewed from Earth is 206264.81 AU.
By calculating the distance to the sun as about 150,000,000 km and multiplying this by 206246.81, you can find that this parsec is equal to about 3.09 x 10^13 km. Since a light year is about 9.5 x 10^12 km, then a parsec is (3.09 x 10^13)/(9.5 x 10^12), or about 3.26 light years. Simples.

Well, that’s great, isn’t it? A Parsec equals 3.26 light years. There, we’ve numerically defined it as a unit of distance so we can use it in navigation, haven’t we?

Not really, and here’s why:
If I move to Jupiter, and then I have to measure the parallax motion of stars from Jupiter’s orbit, I’m now dealing with an orbit around 5 times as large as the Earth’s, which means that a star would have to be around 5 times further away from the solar system for me to be able to see it appear to move 1 arc second.
And that’s because the parsec is not really a unit of distance, but actually a ratio that relates distance to apparent motion.

Remember the basics of parallax: The further you move, the more something appears to move relative to you – so the further you move, the further away an object has to be to appear to move only 1 arc second, because things in the background appear to move less than things in the foreground.

It’s the exact same law of perspective that states that things look smaller the further they are from you.
But wait! We’ve defined the astronomical unit as the distance between the Earth and the Sun, so since the AU is an integral part of the Parsec, doesn’t that mean the Parsec IS a unit of distance?
I mean, it still works with Jupiter if we just put in the value 5AU, right?
After all, the International Astronomical Union (IAU – or “they who demoted Pluto”) recently defined the parsec as exactly 648000/pi AU, so that means that it has a defined numerical value, and that the galactic empire can use a parsec with a defined numerical value, right?

I’m afraid not, for many reasons.


First and foremost, in Star Wars we’re dealing with a galactic empire encompassing many different star systems inhabited by many different species. Each one is going to define the distances they measure the stars to be from them, if they use the parallax arc second, according to the semi-major axis of their own planet’s orbit. All those planets are not going to magically be the same distance from their parent star, and so the concept of a parallax arc second being a standard unit of distance is completely meaningless to them, because they will all measure a different parallax amount for the stars they see thanks to the differently sized orbits of their planets.
The IAU has only managed to define the parsec numerically because we only live on one planet and all our parallax measurements are taken with respect to Earth’s orbit, and setting it at this value just helps deal with having a standard definition of the ratio to help us deal with the problem of being over-precise when dealing with the slight differences in the Earth’s distance to the Sun over the course of a year. It wasn’t made a standard unit so that we can somehow use it when we start traveling among the stars. As soon as we start colonizing further afield – and definitely when we start colonizing other star systems – this standardized unit will have no meaning.

Secondly, nobody would try to navigate by parallax arc seconds, precisely because it is defined by the amount you or the target object has moved.
If you’re in your space ship and you travel 1 million kilometers and you measure the amount a distant star has appeared to move as 1 arc second, then someone in a ship next to you that has traveled 2 million kilometers will measure that same star to have appeared to move about 2 arc seconds.
You both plug in the values for the parallax motion you observed from the star into the parallax formula on your handy space calculators and find that the star is 1 parsec away from you and about 0.5 parsecs away from the other ship!
Even worse, you’ll measure the star to have a different parsec value when you yourself move different distances!
And even worse than that, how the hell do you use this unit to figure out the distance you’ve traveled?
Well, you find out your distance to different stars by measuring the difference in their position, which is dependent on the distance you moved, and given you don’t know the distance you’ve moved (because that’s what you want to figure out) and you don’t know the distance to the stars around you (because you need to know the distance you’ve moved in order to figure that out) you’re lost in a pathetic mathematical loop where both values you need to find out are completely dependent on you knowing the other meaning that you can’t know either, unless you depart from this silly “unit” of measurement and refer to a more standard unit of measurement for one of the values, begging the question WHY THE HELL DON’T YOU JUST USE THE FRIGGIN’ STANDARD UNIT OF MEASUREMENT?

It just makes no sense.


You see, the problem with this argument isn’t just a case of assigning a standard numerical value to a Parsec. It’s with how you MEASURE it.
It’s like deciding to measure velocity in meters per heartbeat.
Sure, you could decided to standardize the “heartbeat” as a unit of time, by suggesting that the “standard” number of heartbeats in a human being in a minute is about 80, so a “heartbeat” is 3/4 of a second, and now you can use meters per heartbeat as a standard measure of velocity. But the problem is when it comes to measurement.
Everyone has different heart rates (and they can change with the level of activity and stress a person is subject to – and even worse, different species will have vastly different heart rates), so when someone tries to measure it using their heart rate, they will have a non-standard value.
So then they have to do some maths to find out how many heartbeats per second they were experiencing, and do some calculations to fit this value into your “standard” unit of measure, find out how many seconds passed and how many heartbeats they counted and how that relates to the amount of heartbeats in the “standard” unit…. but why? You’d just use meters per second.

Similarly, how are you going to measure a parsec? Well, you have to measure the parallax motion of the distant star – but that’s dependent on the motion of the observer.
There’s no standard way to measure it as a standard unit – and THAT’S the problem, and that’s why nobody in their right mind would suggest it as a set unit of distance for use in navigation.
Standardizing the numerical value of a parsec won’t help you, and the idea that you can standardize a numerical value for a trigonometric RATIO is possibly one of the most mathematically illiterate things you can suggest.

spock stupid

I love putting Star Trek memes into Star Wars related articles….

This is the crux of the problem. A parsec is a way of measuring the distance of objects FROM you, not distances you travel.

The idea of using the Parsec as some standard unit of distance is insanely stupid, and nobody who actually understands what a parsec is would ever think of it being used by a galactic empire or even for interstellar navigation as some standard unit of distance, because that isn’t what it is.
Only fan boys who can’t let the fact that their favourite film said something hilariously stupid would think that such a mind-bogglingly dumb idea would make any sense whatsoever.

If you have a galactic empire, or are navigating through interstellar space, the only standard unit of distance you’re going to use is the light year, because it is a STANDARD unit of distance that everyone can measure, and not a RATIO dependent on the distance the observer moves which will be different for everyone.

And who they hell is going to come up with a standard unit of distance that is 3.26 light years anyway? That’s just a silly idea. It’s so close to a light year that you’d just talk in light years. That’s like deciding to come up with an extra standard unit of distance in the metric system that equals 2.7 kilometers. Who the hell does that?
You’d have thought the fact that a parsec equated to such an odd numerical value would have made people think that maybe it’s not what they think it is….

It’s just a convenient measure of distance we can treat as a unit because the way we use it relates solely to the distances to stars when observed from our Earth, where we all live and which moves a pretty set amount throughout the year. Take away all those factors, and the parsec ceases to have any coherent meaning as a unit of distance.


There is a final problem with the whole apologetic around the “parsec” line, and it has to do with hyperspace.
As the argument has been put in one blog, “Traveling at hyperspace is much more complicated than just pressing a button and going directly from point A to point B. A ship’s computer has to be programmed with a route to avoid the known obstacles along that route.”
This completely misunderstands what hyperspace is. You don’t travel at hyperspace, you travel through hyperspace.
In any n-dimensional space, a hyperspace is any n+1 (or more) dimensional space in which the original n-dimensional space is embedded. Think of a 2 dimensional space, like the surface of a piece of paper, and hyperspace is the 3 dimensional space it exists in.
Now think of 2 points on that piece of paper. You want to plot a course between them, but you’ve put some objects between those 2 points. If you want to travel between them through that 2 dimensional space, you have to avoid the obstacles.
But if you travel through the hyperspace of 3 dimensional space, you can plot a course in which you don’t have to think about avoiding those obstacles at all – so the idea of having to plot a course to avoid objects that exist only in a dimensional space that you aren’t going to be traveling through is completely nonsensical.


You can expand this idea to think about a 4 or more dimensional space in which our 3 dimensional space exists, and the same rules apply when you travel through that 4 or more dimensional hyperspace – no need to avoid obstacles that only exist in the 3 dimensional space.

So no, traveling through hyperspace literally IS as simple as “just pressing a button and going directly from point A to point B” – that’s the whole freakin’ point of hyperspace!
To claim it’s not that simple is to prove that you really have no idea what hyperspace is.

The thing is that, in Star Wars, hyperspace doesn’t mean hyperspace – it just means going really fast, which isn’t what hyperspace means at all.
(There’s also a topological definition of hyperspace, but that’s still nothing like the hyperspace of Star Wars.)

Seriously, Star Wars fans, I’d have stuck to accepting that Lucas made a dumb mistake thinking that a Parsec was a unit of time if I were you, because this new stupid idea where you try to appear clever just proves how ignorant you are of what a Parsec is, and even what geometry is.


And in fact, if one of the fans had just decided to say that a “parsec” is a unit of time in the Star Wars galaxy, rather than engage in this incredible feat of mental gymnastics that fundamentally misunderstands what a parsec is in astronomy and astrophysics, I’d have been absolutely fine.
Really, I would have been completely OK with that explanation.
After all, they’re in a galaxy far, far away, right? They can have whatever units of time they want and call them whatever they want – so they can happily have a unit of time that just happens to be called a “parsec”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Sure, we’d still all know that George Lucas originally wrote the line because he didn’t understand what a parsec is, but it would be perfectly acceptable as an answer. Not just because it’s OK for them to have whatever units of time they want, but because we know that Star Wars isn’t sci-fi – it’s fantasy.
Similarly with hyperspace. Stop pretending it relates in any way to the scientific concept of hyperspace, and just accept that this is a fantasy series where General Relativity and the rules of space-time geometry don’t exist, and which isn’t using the scientific terms in any way close to what they actually mean.
The problem only comes when you try to pretend you’re clever, and make it very obvious that you haven’t got a clue.

Stop pretending Star Wars is sci-fi, because when you do, you make up ridiculous apologetic arguments for it’s flaws that really just completely misunderstand and misrepresent science – and that’s why people have to write blog posts explaining what things like parsecs actually are, after you butcher their meaning to pretend your favourite fantasy has some scientific relevance.

(Please note: Yes, it is fun to bait Star Wars fans, but actually I hope this helps people understand some basic trigonometry and geometry and astrophysics in an entertaining manner.)

This article is also posted on my “Astro-gnome” blog at Trolling with Logic.

The Star Wars review the fans don’t want you to see


Spoiler: I realise that I’m going to lose many friends over this, because we all know that you can’t touch the sacred “trilogy of trilogies”. The response you get is akin to watching a toddler being told they can’t have ice cream and mars bar with chicken nuggets for dinner.
In fact, I know that I’m opening myself up to lots of hate mail over this, to which all I can say is: Calm down, it’s just a film.
I read a hilarious “review” of the Star Wars film, by a clearly butt-hurt fan, responding largely to a review in the Huffington post. Because apparently people care what the Huffington Post says about anything.
It’s a funny old world, eh?
Actually, I quite agreed with most of what he said. What I found hilarious was his attempt to claim that the plot of the film – indeed, the entire franchise – is something akin to the Odyssey, the Bible or Beowulf, by claiming it’s an example of chiastic structure, or “ring composition”.
Well, they clearly have absolutely no idea what ring composition is.
Big hint: It’s NOT just recycling so many plot points that your film is basically little more than a rewrite of other films.
This is symptomatic of the mental-gymnastics that hardcore fans will go through to deny there is ever anything wrong with their beloved franchise, because they find it almost impossible to not take it all so seriously.
Another prime example was the whole “under 12 parsecs” blunder in Episode IV. Let’s face facts here: Lucas didn’t know what a parsec is, saw it contains the word “sec”, and thought it was some exotic, spacey-sounding measurement of time.
Could the fans let that drop? No, we’re inundated with endless apologetics and post-hoc attributions of meaning, about how he meant parsecs as a measure of distance all along, and it completely fits the warped dialogue of the scene because [insert tortured and contrived reason here].
This is the thing with Star Wars fans. They can’t just accept and deal with mistakes in their treasured franchise. They can’t even admit them. It’s at first cute, and then absolutely irritating – like a child who won’t stop tugging at your sleeve. At first you think it’s kind of adorable, but after about an hour, you’re wondering if anyone thought to pack a taser, or where the nearest bath tub and toaster are.
That’s why Episode I hurt so much, and they don’t want to talk about it – hell, they even want to pretend it doesn’t exist. It was just too bad that even they knew their convoluted apologetics program couldn’t save it.
But instead of dealing with the fact that it’s merely a piece of mass produced, mass consumed entertainment, they couldn’t just laugh it off like any normal person would. They had to enter into an era of mass hysteria not seen since Diana died.
Even now, there are many hardcore fans that seemingly won’t even speak its name, and who contort their viewing experience of the franchise’s box sets in order to magically banish it from history (see the “Machete Order” for such an example).
Yep, Star Wars fans can’t admit a mistake – so when an entire film is an undeniable mistake, they want to do everything they can not to admit it into the franchise.
Still, like I said, most of the points in the response to the Huffpost review I agree with. There are several claims about “plot holes” that really aren’t plot holes at all, to the point that I really had to wonder if the Huffpost team had bothered to watch the film before taking mild hallucinogenics, or whether they decided “bugger it” and munched their way through a big bag of funny looking mushrooms at the opening credits. Their review was filled with some of the most vacuous and hilariously stupid “points”, that even a 5 year old could have shot down. And seemingly did.
Hell, I liked the film, despite the fact that I’d already seen it back in the 80’s.
But this is the thing with the hardcore Star Wars fans – nobody else gives a fuck. Try to get that through your heads, please. Nobody else actually really cares.
You see, it was your relentless, pissy, whining “don’t give us any spoilers! WAAAAAH!” that sealed it for most of us normal people.
If someone had written a review before I went to see it, would that have ruined it for me or made me not watch it? Of course not, for fuck’s sake. They could even have just said “you’ve already seen it” and gone through all the recycled plot points to their heart’s content, and I’d have still gone to see it AND enjoyed it.
I watch films after reading reviews all the bloody time – that’s the reason I haven’t subjected myself to the fucking ROOM, for shit’s sake, because I saw the reviews and realised I don’t have to waste hours of my life on that shit. And when reviews are good, I’m there.
It’s what fucking reviews are for.
Newsflash: Reviews don’t ruin films, you precious little idiots!
But no, for some fucking mental reason, you star wars fans think you have the one and only franchise that NOBODY CAN EVER TALK ABOUT UNTIL I’VE SEEN THE FILM!”
The only film franchise where for weeks afterwards even the fucking REVIEWERS didn’t say anything about the fucking film, for fear of a bunch of spotty geeks grabbing the nearest pitchfork and heading over to “DESTROY THE MONSTER!”
Yep, when it comes to Star Wars, nobody else is allowed to know anything about the film, and has to go in blind, just because of a bunch of overgrown, pissy children, who haven’t realised one simple fact – Nobody’s forcing you to read the reviews and the spoilers you pricks.
And it was hilarious, because for all your pitiful and idiotic demands that nobody put up any reviews or spoilers, all anyone needed to do was just stick up a fucking massive poster of Episode IV, with the caption “Suck it, losers!”
Because truly, it looks like JJ Abrams pulled off the greatest act of trolling in cinema history, and you hardcore fans are so far down the rabbit hole of Stockholm syndrome for your beloved franchise that you’ve found it impossible to not take yourselves too seriously about it.
No, it can’t be that Abrams was stuck for new ideas, or he was pulling off the greatest scam ever concocted on the big screen, knowing full well that everyone would watch any old shit without it recieving even a basic review as long as it’s STAR WARS, and knowing full well that the fans would rally behind it no matter what (just so long as he didn’t make the horrendous mistakes of Episode I). No, it can’t be that.
It MUST be that he’s a literary genius, and the whole thing is the next fucking Iliad. Yeah. That’s it.
It’s just a fucking film – and it’s not even an example of the best cinema. It’s hardly Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I mean, it’s hardly even Dr Strangelove, for fuck’s sake.
Shit, it’s hardly fucking Benny and Joon.
Let’s not pretend we were watching some incredible specimens of movie masterpiece, that if they could be stuck on canvas would be hanging in the Tate.
It’s Pirates of the Caribbean in space – fairly well written for what it is: swash-buckling, action heavy adventure with great special effects and not too much plot to have to really hurt yourself with, but just enough to engage your brain and not just be a Michael Bay film (where you feel like you could have been lobotomized before hand and STILL understand every intricate facet of the plot, and end up wishing you would be lobotomized after listening to the dialogue). It’s great entertainment, but it’s not a fucking cinematic Mona Lisa. Get over yourselves.
Some of it was barely above the level of pantomime, for Christ’s sake.
That scene where Rey and Finn run into each other in the Millennium Falcon after getting away to congratulate each other was so cringe-worthily directed and acted, that it looked to be straight out of an awkward rehearsal of the worst amateur dramatics production in the universe.
Seriously, that scene just epitomized the problem with Abrams: He’s great at big ideas and special effects, just like James Cameron, and just like James Cameron he’s utterly shit at writing the detail and dialogue, and even worse at directing actors. Can we stop pretending otherwise, please?
let the shit
That’s my problem with Star Wars – or rather, you die-hard fans are.
Can you just let the rest of the world enjoy the films, without demanding we succumb to your whims and desires to stay eternally 10 years old, and pretend you have some magical reasons for everyone to tip-toe around you?
I want to make this absolutely clear, because you idiots keep missing the point, claiming that we’re “just hating on the franchise/film”. I’m not. I have no problem with it. I actually really do like it. It’s you guys I hate. The real hardcore, die-hard fans. Not the films. You.
Again, I loved the film. Even knowing that it was just basically a case of JJ Abrams getting stuck for ideas so he just dusted off the Episode IV script, rewrote a couple of things, made it bigger and repackaged it, didn’t make me enjoy it any less.
In fact, thinking of the humongous troll scandal he’d just pulled off on all the fans only made me love it even more, to the point that it’s probably my favourite Star Wars film for that fact alone, and for getting to watch the mass mental gymnastics you lot go through as you try to cope with it.
So, come the next Star Wars film, can everyone just ignore the spoiled little children crying about “NO-SPOILERS!” and just post up some normal reviews?

Thor’s hammer explained: Mjolnir-centrism!

Having a conversation with my friend, Wolf (yes, that is his name – I’m not just getting high and talking to wild animals, pretending they are conversing with me, though I can understand why someone may think that given my relationship with my dog), we got on to the inevitable subject that all Marvel comics fans do at least several times a year – How does Thor’s hammer work?


My insight was spurred by this conversation and by a recollection of a conversation from the Big Bang theory, in which Penny, Bernadette and Amy were arguing over if you could pick up Thor’s hammer in space. Their conversation focused on the semantics of the word “up”, which is meaningless in space – and however amusing and insightful about space itself, this didn’t really answer the question.

thor hammer big bang

However, my mind began to race, thinking about the fact that only certain people can ever MOVE Thor’s hammer.

Now, go with me on this (famous last words).

If an object is in space and you somehow push it, Newton’s 3rd law states that the same force you exert pushing that object will also be exerted on you in the opposite direction.

As Newton states:

“To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction: or the mutual actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal, and directed to contrary parts.”

Or, as wikipedia summarizes it:

“When one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction on the first body.”

And his first law states:

“Every body persists in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight forward, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by force impressed.

Or, again, according to wikipedia:

“When viewed in an inertial reference frame, an object either remains at rest or continues to move at a constant velocity, unless acted upon by an external force.

Now, this presents us with a problem. If I am in space and I push against Mjolnir (Thor’s hammer, for those who are inexplicably reading this but who don’t know what Mjolnir is), Newton’s laws state that I should move Mjolnir and that I should also be moved backwards. I may move it only very little, but I will move it.

However, Mjolnir, apparently, should not move at all.

This has a profound implication for physics. For Mjolnir must, therefore, represent THE preferred frame of reference for the universe – in fact, it must be the center of the universe. And there must be some kind of technology which enables only certain people (or a certain person) to allow Mjolnir to move the rest of the universe around it.

This makes sense, with everything that we observe it doing.

Think about it – we see Mjolnir appear too heavy to lift, no matter what force is applied to it, and yet it doesn’t go smashing through a glass coffee table when it is rested upon it, as such a heavy object should.

Now, we could say that there’s some convoluted technology that is close to magic, which allows it to have a perfectly balanced anti-gravity mechanism that perfectly allows it to adjust its apparent weight appropriately.


OR we could say that it is the center of the universe, and that it isn’t falling through the coffee table because the coffee table is not moving relative to Mjolnir at that point in time.

Sounds great to me….

fry idea

And then we have the way Mjolnir appears to fly around finding Thor’s hand via strange trajectories through space at incredible velocities – and yet stopping it’s motion magically just in time for him to grab it, without him flying backwards with its momentum.

Well instead, Mjolnir, as the center of the universe, is moving the entire universe around itself in the most efficient trajectory until the point at which Thor’s hand occupies the same space, and it then stops the universe from moving around it. This is perfectly in keeping with Newton’s laws of motion, if Mjolnir is the center of the universe, and the universe is being made to move around it. It doesn’t send Thor flying backwards with any momentum, because essentially there is no momentum.

Then there is the incredible way that Thor wields Mjolnir – striking things all over the place, whilst the amount they appear to fly or have damage inflicted seems quite arbitrary to the momentum Thor would be imparting to the hammer with his swing.

Instead of Thor wielding the hammer like a mason, and giving the hammer momentum, Mjolnir is moving the universe around it appropriately enough to cause the exact damage it wants to the people or objects it strikes – by making them hit it with the required force and then fly away with the appropriate trajectory.

This would also explain how Mjolnir allows Thor to fly. He isn’t flying – he’s just moving the entire universe around him, as he’s holding Mjolnir.

Image credit: Thor Visionaries : Walt Simonson volume 1, taken from

Image credit: Thor Visionaries : Walt Simonson volume 1, taken from

There is, of course, the origin story of Mjolnir itself – that it was forged in a dying star.

Well, how about the people who forged Mjolnir found that there really was a center of the universe, and that this center occupied some space inside an old dying star – possibly the oldest star in the universe (cough cough, let it slide, cough cough)?

Upon finding this center of the universe, they create some technology that allows a person holding an object forged around this center to move the entire universe around it (or that allows the object itself to move the entire universe around this center).

Once forged, you would only need to activate the object and make it move the dying star away from this center, and move whatever planet or relative location in the universe to this center.

Image credit: ESA Herschel space telescope image, taken from

Image credit: ESA Herschel space telescope image, taken from

So, there we have it. Newton’s laws of motion seem to indicate that Mjolnir must occupy THE preferred reference frame in the universe, and since it must move the universe around itself, it therefore occupies (in the only way we could define it, I guess) its center.


Somebody tell the Geocentrists they were right all along – they just have the wrong thing in the center of the universe. And it only works in a comic book universe anyway, with an extreme butchering of physics….

Crying “Troll”

I propose a new rule in debates and discussions:

Anyone who blithely throws around the accusation of someone being a troll, just because they disagree with them – or more likely, can’t answer the points – has automatically lost the debate.


I think this is part of a more general law in debates/discussions:

The first person to call “troll” is the first person to have run out of arguments.

There was an old girl from Seville….


Imagine my great joy when I looked at my page today, to find people in 7 different countries had been looking at my blog within the space of a couple of hours.

Oh, the elation! Oh, the excitement!


Now imagine how I felt to find that, instead of reading one of my more imaginative articles, or even one of my more educational ones, they had all focused on one article…. “The Schwazzenegger Radius“.

A humourous little aside, dreamt up in a drunken stupor. A satirical quip aimed at one of the least competent politicians to have ever graced the Earth.


Well, now I see what the people really want from me, who am I not to oblige them with more?


So, in honour of everyone who read my blog today, I present to you a poem to tickle your delight:


Their was an old girl from Seville,

Who tried dynamite stick for a thrill,

The found her vagina,

In South Carolina,

And bits of her tits in Brazil.


I thank you 😉



Cheers for reading the blog guys. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it 😉

The Bane Of Dyslexics

To: The department for finding names for things.
From: The department for discovering things and finding stuff out.

Dear sir/madam,
We have recently discovered a condition, prevalent amongst a significant portion of the human race, charaterised by an impairment in reading and spelling skills.
We are in need of a name for this newly recognised condition.
Obviously, because this name will be used not only by members of the medical profession, but also predominantly by those who have this condition, we are in need of a name that is easy to read and spell – fitting the criteria that it shall be fit for their usage.

Thank you.

To: The department for discovering things and finding stuff out.
From: The department for finding names for things.

Dear sir/madam,

Thank you for your recent correspondence regarding a name for this newly recognised condition.
Following much deliberation and consideration of the criteria you mentioned, we recommend that the condition be called “Dyslexia”.

Hope this satisfies your needs.

To: the department for finding names for things.
From: The department for discovering things and finding stuff out.

Yeah, that’ll do it. Cheers :/

The Schwarzenegger Radius

The radius of someone’s ability, such that, if their entire ego was compressed into that space, nothing – not even charisma – could escape.

Given the equation:

Rs = (2G*e)/c^2

(Rs = the Schwarzenegger Radius, G = the person’s constant ability to be a useless git, e = the person’s ego, c = the speed of charisma in a vacuum cleaner.)

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