Call of Duty 17.09.2011.

 Source: Metro.

A major release such as last week's 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' has a torture sequence and hundreds of on-screen deaths. It incorporates the 'pleasure' of shooting virtual bad guys.

In America, the law according to the First Amendment makes banning the sale of violent computer games to under 18-s illegal as to do so would interfere with their 'freedom of speech'.

It's well-known that the military sends out free computer games to recruit gamers for technical roles. The U.S. Army commissioned game titles such as 'Full Spectrum Warrior' and 'America's Army' specifically as recruiting tools.

Former SAS operative Chris Ryan told the Metro;

'These kids are being recruited by the US government to fly drones. In recent months, all the big hits in Afghanistan are coming from drones controlled from a couple of places in America-one near McDill Air Force Base in Florida and also an underground bunker in Nevada.

So you've guys like me on the ground relying on some kid with a joystick.'



US kids blow up

Taleban; you couldn't make

it up. No, I didn't.

Haiku for 'The Oldie' 17.09.2011

Linguistic tonic's
a Sanatogen in words
for every Oldie

Birkenhead Central Library 13.08.2011.

In 1966, after school

we leaned against

your railings,

waited for the F19.

Behind us, you were

a pale grey monolith,

stilled by wisdom.



You were always there

just in case, like the

safety of home.

You would have welcomed us

but we thought we were

still exploring other worlds.



Forty five years later

you are still the

pale grey monolith.

You still welcome us,

offer your wisdom.



Now we lean our bikes

against the railings

(are they really the same)

disappear into the

limestone world

for whole afternoons,

into cool chamber and census

to look for our father's

home.

Here's to TJ Hughes ...nine haiku 20.08.2011.

So here's to TJHughes......nine Haiku in honour of TJ Hughes, which went into administration and did not quite make its 100th birthday, after decades of looking after its customers.


No more shoe bargains,

amazing handbags, Triumph

bras or five tog quilts.



No more basement queens

faffing about to find you

the flight case you want.



No more pyramids

of Werther's originals

or shopping trolleys.



No more Ferrero

Rocher or pound Toblerone

bars at the checkout.



No more queues at the

bedding counter to pay for

thermal vests, duvets.



No more sales counter

happy girls refunding, no

esalator hope.



No more washed-out meat

and two-veg posters that

you noticed looked rude.



No more carpetted

restaurant, extra water

jug, joke at the till.



No more sitting on

the low wall, taking the weight

off, eating pasties.



No more black cabs to

take you to Anfield and

Mam to Scotty Road.

A child at Heswall library 12.08. 2011

Certainty was Heswall Library, with its rows of shoulder-high books that had mysterious names and illustrations. Pulling good ones out and taking them home was part of that certainty. You took Ginger, Black Beauty and Merrylegs home to pity, became their saviour; kept them, kept the book by your side.

You found the moon as green cheese and the exoticism of Tove Jansson's Moomintroll, nosed out the plastic jackets, heard the rubber-stamp thud on the wooden counter high above and peered bashfully at the librarian; you found something that was part of yourself.