#oneaday, Day 6: Public Service Announcement

I should stop being surprised at this, but I still am.

People on the Internet are dickholes. Well, not all of them. I know a lot of very nice people who live in the Internet. Many of them are writing blogs like this one—hello!—but then there is another breed out there—the breed who thinks it’s appropriate to hurl unwarranted abuse at others. Others that they’ve never met or spoken to, in some cases.

Ever been on Formspring? It’s pretty fun. People can submit questions to you, either anonymously or under their username, and then you can answer them. That is the sole purpose of the site. I’ve had a lot of fun with it, thanks mostly to my very creative friends who are excellent with coming up with bizarre, thought-provoking questions. And somehow the questions are much more fun when you’re not quite sure who they’re from. It becomes a game in itself to work out who submitted the bizarre question about the robots and the cabbage.

Unfortunately, as we’ve seen many times by now, the potential anonymity that the Internet offers causes some people to think that they can say absolutely anything. So it was earlier on when my lovely Twitter-friend @Cilllah was bombarded with violent and pretty offensive nonsense from some nutjob banging on about his “garden” and about how he was going to rape and kill her.

Now, given all the nonsense over the #TwitterJokeTrial a while back, I don’t for a second believe that this moron was actually going to do these things. But how is it in any way appropriate to say things like that to someone who’s just going about their business on the Internet? Hiding behind the veil of anonymity to throw out abuse to strangers? That’s kind of pathetic.

This sort of thing shouldn’t annoy me so much—it’s been going on for years after all. It doesn’t make it right, though. I’ve been using the Internet and related technologies since the early days—a 300 baud modem on an Atari 8-bit, then on the Atari ST, then CompuServe under Windows 3.1, up through various incarnations of the “proper” Web to the stage we’re at today. And at no point have I ever felt the need to pick on some poor person and be an asshole to them.

Perhaps I’m just too nice of a person to understand why people do the things they do. But I can live with that; I’d much rather be a person that the vast majority of people like and respect (and perhaps a few assholes think is a bit of a pussy) than someone who gets their kicks from threatening rape and violence on strangers.

The joke’s on them, of course. The mental image that springs to mind as soon as anyone starts trolling like that is one of a Jabba-esque freak in his (you know it’s a he) piss-and-cum-stained pants, probably with their semi-erect penis clasped firmly in their left hand (right hand is for mousing) and a folder called “HOTTYZ” on his desktop containing profile pictures of all the women he’s harassed.

And if you’re not that person? You can feel pretty good about yourself.

#oneaday, Day 2: Flubag

I can always tell when it’s the holiday season. Because the holiday season is the Time To Get Ill. Almost without fail every single year, at some point around Christmas/New Year, my body goes “Nope! Had enough. Here’s some snot. Happy Christmas!” and buggers off for a few days.

This year is no exception. I thought I’d escaped, because for the whole time I was over in California visiting my brother for the holidays, I was fine, despite everyone around me gradually sinking into a mire of barking repeatedly like someone with Spatchcock’s Ever-Coughing Syndrome. Including the dog. Who was actually barking, not coughing.

On the plane ride on the way home, though, I felt the illness hit. Several other Spatchcock’s sufferers on the flight coupled with yummy delicious recycled air being pumped around the cabin meant a breeding ground for germs. And sure enough… “Had enough. Here’s some snot. Happy Christmas!”

Well, you’re late, illness glands. And, you know, you really didn’t have to get me anything this year. I just got you a bunch of pills, and I know you don’t really like them that much.

The most irritating thing about suffering with Spatchcock’s Syndrome is how difficult it makes sleeping. When you lie down in bed with Spatchcock’s, you are constantly in one of two states: mouth-breathing, or coughing.

The mouth-breathing comes because your nose is so full of juicy snot that if you didn’t mouth-breathe you’d suffocate and die, and suffocating and dying because of snot would just be embarrassing. If you do happen to get to sleep whilst in the mouth-breathing phase, your snores will qualify as some of the most disgusting noises on the planet and will probably involve bubbling. If you are sleeping with anyone at the time, this is a sure-fire way to find out if they really love you or not.

The coughing usually comes when you manage to clear your nose a little bit, and inevitably brings up more snot to join the party. The noise and the irritation in your throat wakes you and anyone in the same building up, and once it passes you’re back to mouth-breathing again.

So you probably end up not sleeping until your brain is so devoid of power that it goes into laptop-style hibernation mode and fails to wake you up until lunchtime the next day. And because you slept at a weird time, you end up feeling crappy the next day, which compounds the whole situation further.

Eventually you just decide to not sleep any more until this dratted pox departs your system, during which time you gradually slip into a hallucinogenic fantasy which you can’t quite decide whether is good or bad or somewhere in between and then you die. Possibly.

I am grateful for one thing, though: at least it’s not full-on achey joints flu, which I’ve only been struck down with once at a time that happened to coincide with a Christmas I was set to spend alone in my house due to holiday retail work commitments and the rest of my family doing other things. Elsewhere. Without me.

Remind me why I want to get a job again?

#oneaday, Day 348: End of the Year Show

So, 2010. Here we are. Your last day with us. You have a lot to answer for.

Actually, let me start.

Fuck you. I remember at the start of 2010 thinking “2009 sucked. 2010 will kick ass.” I can’t even remember why 2009 sucked so much now, such was the order of magnitude that your suckiness dwarfed it by.

Let’s keep score, shall we?

I started the year in a job that I wasn’t sure I wanted to do—an ill-advised return to school teaching on the suggestion of several people who thought I’d be good at primary school teaching, and that it might be less stressful than the horrors of secondary education.

They were wrong.

Given that the school I worked at was in what can politely be termed a “difficult area”, there were plenty of what can politely be termed “challenging pupils”. Most notable among them were a child who decided to spend one early morning Guided Reading session lying face-down on the floor screaming “PLEASE STOP THE PAKISTANI INVASION! PLEASE STOP THE PAKISTANI INVASION!” in a school that was probably made up of a good 60-70% of ethnic minority children, and the kid who liked to tear down wall displays, run out of the classroom and climb trees. It’s amusing now. It was less amusing at the time, and it should be pretty obvious that those kids have no place in mainstream education.

Also at the school, I went through an OfSTED inspection, where the school was judged to be “failing”. This is because it was judged on the same criteria as schools in affluent areas and therefore, unsurprisingly, came up somewhat short. I was referred to as “inadequate” by a person who had spent approximately ten minutes watching me teach, and I knew that I had to get out.

Fortunately, an ideal excuse for getting out came along in the form of PAX East in Boston, MA. I had never been to Boston, and I had never been to a video game convention. This was also going to be an opportunity to meet a huge number of the Squadron of Shame members face-to-face for the first time. I wasn’t about to pass that up, so I bought a ticket even before I’d quit my job.

I quit said job just in time to avoid having to go on a residential trip with the kids I’d come to resent so much and spent a blissful few days amongst my fellow nerds at PAX East and can honestly say that there are few occasions that I’ve ever felt happier than when I was there with my “people”. I wished it could go on forever, but sadly it couldn’t. And things were only going to get worse from hereon.

I worked for a few scattered days doing supply teaching, but wasn’t enjoying it at all, least of all the whole “get up early just in case there’s any work” arrangement, where every day led to the weighing up of emotional wellbeing and financial stability.

In late April, I turned 29. I was not in a good place mentally, so I didn’t feel much like celebrating at the time. I still don’t. Then in early May, everything changed. The one thing I thought I could count on—my home life, my marriage, the love I had—went away. There were many reasons for this and at this point it doesn’t do anyone any good to assign “blame” either way because things on both sides led to this point. I wish they hadn’t, but it seems that some things are supposed to happen, however painful they are.

And painful it was. The experience damn near destroyed me. I had whole days where I was completely unable to function. I had plenty of times when I wished everything would just go away, that I wouldn’t have to face these things any more. I went through all the however-many-stages-of-grief-there-are several times and am still jumping back and forth between them now. I resented everyone who told me that it would “just make me stronger” and put on a brave face for the public (and this blog, which I kept plugging away at even through those dark times) but appreciated those people who showed themselves to be true friends more than they could ever realise.

And all through this I was no closer to finding a job. I interviewed for a job I didn’t want and did well (though didn’t get it) and for a job I really did want and didn’t get that either. Eventually, the money ran out and I found myself having to move back home, an act which however you dress it to me and however necessary it was still feels like a punch in the face every time I wake up of a morning.

The holiday season came, and I spent it in the States with my brother and the rest of my family. This turned out to be a positive move, as I had the opportunity to meet up with a bunch of people and do what is commonly referred to as “professional networking”. I scored some freelance work out of the whole arrangement—freelance work that pays money, even.

Then I came home to discover a huge bill from the taxman thanks to some uncompleted self-assessment forms which I had no idea I was supposed to do and a podcast to edit whose audio files were ruined beyond repair. A final slap in the face from a shitty year? Let’s hope so.

During 2010, despite all this, I made some great friends through the #oneaday initiative, through Kombo.com, through The Big Pixels and through Twitter. I also successfully completed the Couch 2 5K running challenge, and have posted every day since the 19th of January on this blog. Those parts of the year I wouldn’t change. The rest can go F itself in the B.

2011 has a lot for me to look forward to. More freelance work, which I really enjoy, even the rewrites. The all-new One A Day Project, which I’m doing my best to co-ordinate. Hopefully a full-time job. And I’m praying for a lift out of the black pit that I’ve been sporadically stuck in since May. Can you be sporadically stuck in something?

Tonight I’m going down to Southampton to spend New Year’s Eve with one of those true friends I mentioned earlier. 2010, I shan’t be sorry to see you leave. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Actually, do. I’ve installed a spike on it, at just about ass-level. I hope you enjoy it. You cunt.

#oneaday, Day 323: A Little Balance On The Gaming Issue, Please

An hour ago, the BBC aired an episode of Panorama, our go-to investigative journalism programme, on the subject of video games. The subject, predictably, was the ever-present “are video games addictive?” question that has been raised and not answered many, many times prior to now.

The programme made a few fair points that are more common sense than anything else. Firstly, those with addictive personalities are prone to becoming addicted to games. Many games have in-built reward mechanics which those who get easily addicted to things will… well, get addicted to. Social games like Farmville, MMOs like World of Warcraft and popular multiplayer titles like Call of Duty all take great pains to ensure a regular stream of rewards and gratification being sent in the player’s general direction. Whether it’s a “medal”, a “completed quest” or simple experience points, there’s a constant flow of something that leads the player to believe they’re achieving something. Those who become addicted to things easily can use that as a justification.

Secondly, the programme pointed out that parental controls need to be used more effectively. Many children and teenagers are given free reign on their use of video games and as such don’t limit themselves on how much to play, to the exclusion of other things. Parents need to get better-informed about the facilities available to them to control their children’s playing habits. This is, sadly, something that many parents are very resistant to, despite the fact that the tools are there for use, particularly on the Xbox, which offers some of the most robust family controls that there are—as does the Mac, oddly enough.

There were no concrete conclusions drawn, however. The “conclusion”, if you can call it that, was that more research was needed from an independent body.

The thing is, this discussion has been going on for decades now, and no-one has thought to actually do that research in an appropriately investigative and non-biased manner.

I was reading through a few Formspring answers from Leigh Alexander (I think) the other day and she made the very good point that those of us out there who write about games can’t be called “journalists” in the same sense as those who write for, say, national newspapers on breaking stories. Our role as members of the games press involves reporting on carefully-disseminated information provided by PR companies, critiquing products on general release (occasionally before general release) and sometimes interviewing a developer from the industry. There’s no real “investigation” there, there’s no hard-hitting stuff. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but given that mainstream media tends to come down on the more negative side of the fence when investigating gaming, I think there’s certainly scope for a counter-argument: someone who does know the industry well investigating the burning issues. And investigating them thoroughly using established journalistic, sociological research techniques.

Who’s going to be the first person to step up and do that, though? More to the point, would anyone read it or take it seriously? Gamers, by their very nature, are defensive creatures, having been made out to be “the bad guys” by the mainstream media once too often. And those not “in the know” are often inclined to have their minds made up by sensationalist stories in the aforementioned mainstream media.

What we need is balance. What we need is a hero.

Wait, what?

#oneaday, Day 321: Charities Have No Use For Your Avatar

Are you morally-conscious? Feel like you should be doing more to help your fellow man, but feeling a bit strapped for cash at the moment? Don’t feel like putting together some sort of fund-raising event because, after all, it is a bit cold outside and it might snow.

Never fear! Web 2.0 is here to allow you to assuage your guilt without any need for financial or time outlay! All you need to do is change your profile picture and/or status to something vaguely related to the charity that you would like to support and that counts as you having Done Your Bit when it comes to Judgement Day. Me? I like the Cats Protection League, so I shall be donning a LOLcats avatar for the day.

Grumble, moan etc. I know. And I have a sneaking suspicion I may have mentioned this before.

The above piece of sarcasm is proudly sponsored by today’s Facebook and Twitter campaign to get as many people as possible to change their avatars to their favourite cartoon characters of the 80s or 90s. This, apparently, counts as you “joining the fight against child abuse”, and has been attributed to the NSPCC by several people. Go look at the NSPCC front page right now. Do you see any mention of any campaign “not to see a human face on Facebook until Monday, December 6th”?

No. I certainly don’t. Probably because it actually has nothing to do with the NSPCC whatsoever, and probably because the NSPCC would rather you got off your arse and either did something to raise money for them or just reached into your pocket and sent them a tenner.

“Donating” your Facebook status or a tweet means nothing. And the “it’s just a bit of fun” defence is bollocks, too; there are plenty of people out there who feel like changing their avatar (a task which takes, ooh, a minute at most?) and/or copy-pasting a status is absolutely “doing their bit” and absolves them of any sense of responsibility, putting them on the same level as someone who has diligently, say, organised a sponsored run, bake sale, 48 hour Desert Bus marathon, three-week charity wankathon, whatever. It doesn’t.

This isn’t a rant saying that everyone should donate to charity. I don’t—at the moment I can’t afford to. It’s up to everyone whether they would like to support a charity that deals with an issue they feel strongly about. But “supporting” that charity means just that—supporting them and the work that they do. That means giving them some money, or some of your time, or just walking into one of their shops and buying a dodgy velvet jacket for a 70s night or something.

It doesn’t mean changing your fucking avatar. How many people out there copy-pasted that status and changed their avatar and then felt all smug and self-righteous before going on to do other things, forgetting all about the fact that they hadn’t actually donated any money to the charity in question, who probably had nothing to do with the campaign in the first place?

So don’t let me stop you changing your avatars to your favourite cartoon characters. If you do, though, at least be honest about why you’re doing so—perhaps you think Superted is awesome, in which case, say so and don’t hide behind some kind of false altruism—or actually follow up what you’re doing with a donation.

Rant over.

Actually, no it’s not.

Girls, next time you feel tempted to post something that the “men won’t get” in an attempt to “promote breast cancer awareness”, realise that we all know what you’re doing and would again much rather you just donate to a worthy cause like MacMillan, rather than supposedly “raising awareness” by being deliberately obtuse. How the fuck does that even work?

Rant over. For reals, yo. Take care of yourself. And each other.

#oneaday, Day 320: Achievement Locked

I’ve just done something I haven’t done for a while. I’ve beaten a game with no Achievements. No, I don’t mean that I played the game so terribly that I didn’t get any Achievements (I don’t think there’s a single Achievement-supporting game out there that will allow you to do that)—I mean I started, played, enjoyed and beat a game which did not support Achievements of any kind, be they Steam Achievements, Xbox Achievements, PSN Trophies or a built-in Achievement-like system.

Said game was Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale, which I enthused about at some length a few days ago. I beat it tonight, but there’s a load of stuff after the ending, too, so this isn’t the end of my time with the game. I am, however, glad that there were no Achievements along the way.

Achievements are generally considered to be a good thing. And for some games, they are. Freeform games like Crackdown use Achievements to encourage players to try crazy things that they might not have thought to do otherwise. Skill-based games like Geometry Wars use Achievements to display player skill. But when you get into the territory of “Fire your gun 500 times”, you know it’s getting a bit silly.

I played Oblivion a while back and greatly enjoyed it. I got all 1250 Achievement points in it. The thing is, though, that wasn’t the whole game. There are tons of sidequests in Oblivion which don’t have associated Achievements. How many people do you think bothered to do them? Not many, I’d wager.

Achievements often direct your experience and encourage you to play in a specific way. For some types of game, that is good. In others, it’s not. Part of the joy of Recettear is the discovery of how different things in the game work. Over time, you naturally figure out which customers you can get away with charging a bit more to, which ones will come in at what times of the day, which products appeal to which people and all manner of other things. Even the adventurer characters you can take into the dungeons have their own individual quirks for you to learn. As soon as you add Achievements like “Sell 20 Baked Yams” to that mix, you start playing differently in order to get that Achievement. You start focusing on becoming the best damn Baked Yams supplier there ever was, to the exclusion of more profitable things like treasure and adventuring equipment.

Achievements are, on balance, a good idea, I think. They provide an additional reward mechanic above and beyond that which the game should be offering anyway. But it’s when they start to take over, to become the most important reward mechanic—more than the inherent rewards built into the game itself—that things aren’t quite right with the world. It’s a fine line, and I don’t think making the support of Achievements mandatory is the correct way to be. Or if there’s no way around that, let’s see more games like DEADLY PREMONITION, which simply has an Achievement for beating each chapter, one for each difficulty level and one for 100%ing the game. Nothing more. Nothing more needed. Even then, I’m pretty sure there will be at least one person out there who will go back and replay the whole game just to get all three difficulty level Achievements. That shouldn’t be why you replay DEADLY PREMONITION. You should replay it because it’s awesome.

So, anyway. Don’t be afraid to pick up a game with no Achievements. You might be surprised. Games can be fun without having to tell you how awesome you are every ten minutes.

#oneaday, Day 319: Report This Post, It Contains Opinion

There is an increasingly popular—and increasingly worrying—tendency for games journalism and writing about games (which some people are keen to point out are two different things) to be judged as “broken” or “lame”.

On paper, you can perhaps understand why this is. Gaming is one of the most popular subjects for wannabe writers to pebble-dash the Internet with, and there are so many people out there who want to do it “professionally” that a good 90% (I made that up) of gaming-focused sites out there can’t even pay their writers, however awesome they are. As such, there is a lot of crap out there, but it’s generally quite easy to spot, and there’s certainly no need for sites like this.

Fellow #oneaday-er and all-round lovely grumpy chap Ian Dransfield of Play Magazine wrote an impassioned rant on this subject. I highly recommend you go and read it. Now. Go on.

I agree with the Dransfield. No kind of journalism should be homogenised, automaton-written garbage. It should have scope for individual opinion and comment, and certain outlets should have the opportunity to develop distinctive “voices” on the matter. It’s worked for our newspapers for years, after all—for all the shit everyone gives the Daily Mail about their bizarre and often misguided opinions, at least they stick to their guns. Similarly, were the Daily Express ever to write about anything other than Princess Diana, the nation would be in uproar.

One of the things that bugs me most about today’s games journalism is the plague that is N4G. For the uninitiated, N4G is a community-driven news-aggregation service. Community members may post articles to a “pending” queue, and they then have to get ten “approvals” in order to show up in the main news feed.

Fair enough, you might say. It separates the wheat from the chaff, surely. And surely the people who have approval rights must all be published professionals, right?

Wrong. Anyone can submit any page to N4G with no requirement that the article be your own. Get three articles approved by the community (a simple case of rounding up ten Twitter/Facebook friends to help you) and voila—approval rights. This then means that your opinion has as much weight as someone who’s been doing the job for fifteen years.

This may still not sound unreasonable. So let me show you the drop-down menu of options available for “reporting” an article if you believe it to be “inappropriate”:

Yes, you have read that correctly; one of the options for reporting an article as unworthy of appearing in the N4G news feed is that it is “lame”.

N4G is seen as a primary means of promoting games-related articles, and sure enough, it does seem to generate a lot of hits for sites, so I can’t fault those people who do take advantage of it to get more readers to their sites—fair play to you. I can say with some honesty, though, that I have never used it as a place to go to find out the latest news. The whole thing is too chaotic, too run by people who write comments after reading only the headline and not the article and—ugh—it makes me mad, I tellsya. I can’t take it seriously in the slightest.

My main issue with it is one of the things Dransfield points out in his article: who are these people to say what is and is not “relevant”? What gives them the right to brand something as “lame” simply because it doesn’t have “HALO IS A REALLY COOL GUY” in the headline? What gives them the right to ignore a supposed “duplicate article” on a subject which offers some opinion or additional facts over and above what has already been written first, in haste?

Absolutely nothing. Traditional news outlets and even longer-established specialist press (such as publications for music and films) aren’t held to account in the same way. But games journalism, being a younger industry, seems to be held to entirely different standards, and judged unnecessarily harshly. There is a lot of negativity surrounding the games press, and not enough positivity. Trolling and flame wars are particularly prevalent on articles about games, and platform-specific articles seem to bring out the very worst in the community.

Here’s food for thought then: in a world where we’re so concerned about free speech a goodly proportion of the Twitter population in the UK (and beyond) is supporting the legal fees of someone they’ve never met, why are we so harsh on this particular breed of writers? Why shouldn’t they be able to write what they feel, rather than what will “get hits”?

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#oneaday, Day 310: Don’t Be Hatin’

Somehow I don’t think that anyone who is reading this blog will fall into the category that I’m about to talk about, but I’ll direct this at everyone generally just in case.

Have you used any kind of expression involving the word “haters” recently in a non-ironic sense? I have one simple request to you: stop it. You sound like an idiot.

I don’t know who was the first person to decide that posting something along the lines of “I don’t give a fuck about the haters” (or, more accurately, usually “i dont giv a fuk abt da haterz!!!”) was a great idea and made them look Deep And Stuff™, but it’s a plague on far too many people on the Internet, many of whom are clearly desperately wishing they were from a socioeconomic and/or ethnic group other than their own.

The latest person to come out with some such bullshit was none other than British Formula 1 racing driver, Lewis Hamilton, who earlier tweeted “To those of u who care, thanks for ur support, am on here for u. To all u haters…I jus don’t give a fuck haha” [sic]. The tweet has since been removed, suggesting one of two possibilities: 1) McLaren got in touch and told Lewis to stop pretending to be 50 Cent (who tweets nonsense like that all the time, but inexplicably occasionally censors himself when he says “shit”) or 2) the tweet wasn’t by him in the first place. Either are entirely plausible.

But let’s assume, for the sake of rantitude, that it actually was Hamilton. Twitter promptly exploded at the fact that a high-profile sports personality who normally came across as a nice, if rather boring, young man on television knows the “fuck” word. Some people even seemed to think that his “taking a stand” like this was somehow admirable. I thought it made him come across as a bit of a cock.

The thing is, in my experience, any time I’ve seen anyone coming out with the “screw u haterz” nonsense, they are desperately insecure and usually spoiling for a fight. Perhaps they like to post unpopular views, troll forums or simply act like a complete penis online. Never once have I come across someone who posts in full sentences and understands what punctuation is who has said “I don’t give a fuck abt da haterz” or similar.

The knock-on effect of this is that it causes people like me, who put a lot of stock in the written word, to judge the people who say this sort of thing, perhaps unfairly. Nine times out of ten (I made that up) the people who post things in this manner online are white middle-class teenagers who desperately, desperately wish they were a street-smart hip-hop gangsta, yo, preferably packing a piece. (I feel extremely middle-class and very English just typing those words. Oh well. Fine by me.) Quite why they want to come across as a “thug” (their word) is beyond me.

So, then, consider it a warning. If you start talking about “haters” and your indifference towards them, I will judge you. And it will not be a favourable judgement.

And Lewis Hamilton? If that was you tweeting that nonsense, I now think you are a cock instead of simply a moderately boring person. Guess I’m a “hater”. At least you don’t give a fuck.

#oneaday, Day 308: Google Is Your Middleman Preventing Effective Communication

Ladies and gentlemen, we are afflicted with a plague of the Information Age. The plague of “Google/the search bar is your friend”. A plague of laziness, if you will, as this is a catch-all response which makes it look like you’re being vaguely helpful and/or knowledgeable when in fact all you’re doing is being an arrogant asshole and trying to get out of answering a question as quickly as possible.

Google is wonderful, of course. It is generally possible to find the information you’re looking for quite quickly, especially if you’re familiar with some of those handy tips and tricks on how to phrase your search query. But sometimes—just sometimes—you want a human response to a question. So you ask people. You might ask them on a forum. You might ask them on Twitter. You might email someone and ask about it.

If you receive one of these emails/tweets/forum posts and instinctively go for the “insert ‘Google is your friend’ template”, I have one request.

Stop it.

Sometimes when someone is asking a question, they don’t just want an answer. They want to open a discussion. They want to find out who knows things so they can get a better understanding of that person or the community. They might be new to the community and unaware that the question has been asked before. Or they might—get this—have already tried Googling it, been confronted with “about 7,190,000 results” in “0.23 seconds” (“how to change a lightbulb”, for the curious) and been understandably intimidated, or unsure which one of the often-conflicting pages to believe.

Okay, “how to change a lightbulb” is perhaps a bad example as there aren’t many pages out there that helpfully inform you that the best way to change a lightbulb is to stick it up your arse and then attempt to fart it into the socket. But take a question about, say, philosophy or a political perspective. Tons of pages out there are biased one way or another, and as such it might not be clear which one is the “correct” perspective. True, asking a person the same question is also open to bias. But at least when you’re dealing with a person, you have the opportunity to question their point of view and for them to justify it.

Actually, instructional “how-to” guides aren’t such a bad example. Let’s say you have a non-standard light fitting, as I did in the bathroom of my old flat. I was unable to work out how to remove the cover for it as I didn’t know what the fitting was called. I posted a photo online and people gave some suggestions. Eventually, I levered it off with the help of a stepladder and a teaspoon. I now consider myself adequately qualified to be able to help someone else in the same position, because surely I can’t have been the only person in the world with a light fitting like that. So if anyone asks me about it, I’m not going to ram their face into Google, which they’ve probably already done. I’m going to give them an answer, even if said answer is readily available elsewhere on the Internet.

If you’re a “Google is your friend”-er, then try taking just an extra minute or two out of your undoubtedly busy schedule to help someone out. You might find they appreciate it, rather than getting arsey about you sounding like a big know-it-all. So stop hiding behind Google and help a brotha/sista out. You might learn something, too.

#oneaday, Day 298: Did You Hear The One About The [REDACTED] And The #TwitterJokeTrial?

If the name Paul Chambers doesn’t mean anything to you at the moment, then take a moment to read this summary of the day’s proceedings, courtesy of The Guardian.

The TL;DR version (God, I hate that phrase and wish it, and everyone who uses it unironically, would die in a f… would, err, live a long and happy life filled with kittens and/or puppies, whichever they preferred, really, because it’s up to them how they live their lives and I love them, whatever they decide) is this: Chambers made an (arguably) ill-advised joke on Twitter about blowing Robin Hood Airport “sky high”. It was a throwaway comment that got blown (pardon) out of all proportion and, thanks to some very, very silly people, has been treated as something roughly approaching a mid-level terrorist incident.

The conclusions of the judge today were that Chambers’ original comment was “obviously menacing” and that any “ordinary person” would “be alarmed”.

Funny, then, that Twitter itself has been full of bomb threats, incitements to violence, discussions of inflicting bodily harm on individuals, and no-one else (save Conservative councillor for Birmingham, Gareth Compton, who made some similarly ill-advised comments, got bollocked and then promptly released on bail) has been arrested for it.

The long and short of it, though, is that Chambers’ appeal was unsuccessful, meaning he is now lumbered with a mounting legal bill and fine which—bless him—Stephen Fry has offered to pay, but members of the public have been generously donating to, also. (Find out how you can help too here).

Chambers has lost his job as a result of one silly comment on Twitter that clearly wasn’t intended to be “menacing” in the slightest. What sort of incompetent terrorist hatches their plans via social media anyway? Everyone knows they still use cassettes and VHS tapes. But the fact stands; this poor chap has had his life pretty much destroyed as a result of an almost total abandonment of Common Sense.

I like to think of myself as a fairly ordinary person, and I certainly wasn’t menaced by Chambers’ tweet. I wasn’t even aware of it until this whole legal fiasco started—but I follow plenty of people who make comments which could, according to Judge Jacqueline Davies, be interpreted as “menacing” and “alarming”. Are they all going to be arrested now? Or was Chambers set up to be made an example of? Certainly if the authorities are intending prosecuting everyone who has made mock “bomb threats” on Twitter today, they’d better get started now, because it’s going to take a good long while, and lots of courthouse space to get it all sorted.

Or perhaps they could, you know, focus on some actual crimes. Perhaps they could take some steps to deal with kids carrying knives, youth gangs, burglaries, assaults, murders, even fucking traffic incidents carry more weight than a ridiculous comment on Twitter.

Or even—here’s a thought—they could invest some resources into tracking down actual, genuine terrorists and foiling their plots before they happen. But perhaps that’s too difficult, and it’s much easier to make a scapegoat of a poor fella who was simply excited to spend time with the love of his life, and was frustrated by the fact that the airport’s closure was making that look more and more unlikely.

So, moral of the story, kids? Be careful what you say. Otherwise Big Broth—

[THE REMAINDER OF THIS BLOG POST HAS BEEN REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND. PLEASE DIRECT ALL ENQUIRIES TO [email protected]]