Is was the unforgiving winter of 2013 that overstayed its welcome. Many of the sickly students perished, and my housemates fled south that Easter in hope of a fresh hot meal that has no place in the barren wasteland of Coventry. Looking back, I imagine myself having a bushy beard, but there’s no evidence to say that’s even possible.

Although I could stand my ground by sleeping with a hammer under my bed, it was the late April exams I needed to settle to secure my place here. Solitude is a dangerous thing. Solitude makes you clean the house four times a day. Solitude makes you stare at a window, murmuring to yourself until the charity person goes away. I had listened through my iTunes library a hundred-fold, and about a fifth of the views for most of YouTube were by yours truly. I needed something new to accompany throwing my stress ball at the blackboard, hoping I could hit it hard enough to detach that chalky mess from the wall and come crashing down like my aspirations at the start of the academic year.

But there was something. It was foreign, yet I liked it. It was a patriotic speech laced with so much bullshit that it had to have a good tune to stop people from noticing. It was, ladies and gentlemen, a national anthem.

I shit you not, they are actually great little things. The fact that most of them are incomprehensible to non-polyglots means they won’t distract studying (or whatever you do). And when you’re free from exam peril, you can laugh at how the lyricist got away with their babble. Anyway, have a look at some of my favourites:

Ringo Starr (25th February 1900 – 8th December 1980) was a British musician, physicist and peace activist. He was highly regarded as one of the leading pioneers of 20th century popular music, most notably with his invention of the art of drumming.

Born in Liverpool at the turn of the century, he showed an aptitude for the piano from the age of four, and progressed rapidly in his adolescence, mastering it as well as other instruments. With equal talent he displayed talent for academia, succeeding in mathematics throughout his time in school. He left at 17 to take part in World War I, and served until the end in 1918.

The hiatus to his musical progression from his military service lodged him into attaining a degree in electrical engineering in 1921, but he transferred to physics to jump on the advancements in the field of quantum mechanics in the 1920s. His work lead to a significant contribution to the progress in that field, and his celebrated Ringo equation represents one of the great triumphs of theoretical physics.

By the 1930s he had retired as a professional physicist and returned to the music scene. His focus was the piano, and his technique and use of tone colour and the excitement of his playing were and remain legendary. Among with his later musical advancements, he is widely considered as one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century. He extended his musical outreach to conducting later that decade, with Starr-led orchestral performances a comforting sound during the perils of the Second World War.

It was not until 1950, nearly twenty years into his musical career, that a middle-aged Starr made his historical leap in the progression of popular music. Sources vary in regards to the details, but it is generally accepted that he was with a small group of musicians in the theatre after a symphony, and had the idea to arrange a kit and use two conducting sticks to produce a new, fresh, innovative sound. There is dispute on whether or not he started wearing his trademark sunglasses from that day, but it is a known fact that he was the first man to wear sunglasses when not necessarily outside in the sun.

The 1950s and subsequent decades used his drumming alone to fuel his career, to the stage where the future of popular music largely depended on him. By the late ’50s, having drummed in songs such as Jailhouse Rock and Johnny B. Goode, he was a superstar among the younger generation. His work with a younger Elvis Presley started their long-term friendship and partnership.

Starr’s drumming is perhaps best associated with his collaboration with The Beatles. Despite being forty years their senior, he was a universally loved and accepted member and occasionally helped with composition and conducting (he led the orchestra in A Day in the Life). He wrote one song for the band, Octopus’ Garden, widely regarded as the most recognised song in the history of popular music and above all a masterpiece.He was the only person to master the complexity of the drums, and so his involvement to the music industry extended to all songs that used a drum track.

The next and last full decade of his life was not so forgiving. Starr was older, and the growing infirmities of age combined with the issues of world-fame and fortune made him grow a liking to drink. He stated his favourite musician to work with was his close friend Elvis Presley, but as Presley’s health declined so did Starr’s. Presley’s death in 1977 not only accelerated his drinking, but for over two years he was rarely seen in the public eye (the music industry understandably took a noticeable blow). Starr slowly became reserved to the back of the memory of the public eye.

However, in 1980, Starr returned to music. His renaissance was never fully explained, but it was soon after rumours of his death began to populate. Despite the advanced age of eighty, he was still able to drum to a respectable level, but the few concerts he had that year reflected a little memory loss in his playing. Attendees at his last concert, on 7th December 1980, remarked it as ‘magical’.

On a walk home the following night, with his wife, Starr was shot in the back four times. Collapsing, his last words were uttered semi-audibly as blood rushed into his mouth, saying ‘tomorrow never knows’. Rushed to hospital, he was pronounced dead on arrival. The assailant was Mark David Chapman, with strong motives leading to Starr’s activism in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered in his home town of Liverpool.

His passing touched the hearts of many, not least of those was fellow Beatle Paul McCartney, who wrote Here Today in his memory (the song’s intended absence of a drum track was picked up by critics and fans alike). But most importantly, Starr left one gift to his fan base. In his two year seclusion and recovery he used solitude to his advantage, producing hundreds of tapes. Most drum fills, some piano pieces. Many of those tapes are used today. With or without his final recordings, his music will live on forever.

Sequel to Poképroblems…

I thought a trio of issues to be needlessly attacked sufficed, but as I can think of more, how about I dive into them? After all, you did decide to read this, and I’d be offended for you to close this tab now (or window if you live in the times before electricity and use IE6).

4. “6 items or less.”
Problem: An easy way out of the Pokémon League (or any other difficult battle) when you can’t be bothered to train would be to stock up on revives and full restores, in other words sucking up the infinite medicinal resources from the region’s market economy. What would be an even easier way would be to stock up on Pokémon, so you have quite literally an army for your now shaken foes to bring down. The invention of the Pokéball would make it possible, but for some reason, after a somewhat arbitrary six, your Pokéballs (and residing Pokémon) migrate to a computer system with such efficiency that Facebook Chat could only dream of. This brings part B of the problem: how does that box system work? Seriously?
Answer: I did mention on part one that you’re overweight to tie up the last plothole. Perhaps with this comes physical weakness, and you are unable to carry a heavy seven Pokéballs but 6 lots of 99 lots of full restores, who knows? As for the magical system that transports material to data, let’s just say they have the mother of all internet connections.

5. “Sex, drugs, and 8-bit rock ‘n’ roll!”
Problem: I did breed a lot of Pokémon in my youth, and in my experimentation I discovered a bad truth: you can breed Pokémon in a way that would probably seriously damage the IQ and finger count of humans. You know what I mean. Furthermore the legal system for whatever region the game is set in doesn’t really have any problems with the game’s anabolic steroids, which obviously means that that every citizen, Pokémon, animal, mineral, and vegetable is constantly high on every type of drug at all times! This is not the influence that we want for the child audience, and a rationalisation is demanded.
Answer: Despite the computers and whatnot, the Pokémon series is actually set in the 1960s, where everything goes. Everything.

6. “I have the Poké Balls to catch you.”
Problem: With the exception of that rogue Pikachu, Poké Balls are the homes of Pokémon. Please, don’t tell me you have not questioned the programme. How does it work? How do they fit? Does it work with other living things? Can I keep my children in them? Do they still need feeding in it? Do they like it? Does PETP (People for the Ethical Treatment of Pokémon) piss people off about them? What is its primary purpose?
Answer: Pokémon goes in. Pokémon goes in, no further questions. No. No. No. Sure. Of course. To masturbate in peace.

Yes, this whole semi-thought-up false rant eventually dissolved into a poor wank joke. No, you will not get those five minutes back.

A while ago, I mentioned my purchase of Pokémon HeartGold and a shorter while ago I completed it. My experience of that version and its many predecessors I have owned (which all follow essentially the same routine) have left me with a few queries about the realism. That’s right, I’m going to attack the realism of handheld console games involving monsters designed for children.

1. “I have a hostage!”
Problem: Team Rocket (or whatever the antagonists are these days), they fail because of their business plan:
1. Arrange an army of unarmed grunts (but with Pokémon).
2. Invade an important building with weirdly no internal security, take the CEO hostage, and wait until your Pokémon have been defeated by a ten year old.
3. ???
4. PROFIT!
What kind of idiots are they? They can’t be American, as they are unarmed. They can’t be French, as they invaded. They can’t be Japanese, as they’re stupid.
Answer: They have no political or economical motivation, the whole regime is just for teh lolz.

2. “Yes! You’ve fainted! Now to catch y—”
Problem: If I’m not mistaken, I bet most of us (as children) originally thought that making a Pokémon lose its HP killed it, even though it blatantly said the Pokémon has fainted (perhaps it was only my unobservant eyes). When you’re trying to catch one, you are set a challenge to get the HP pretty low without letting it faint. A challenge is a challenge, but it doesn’t explain why you can’t catch a fainted Pokémon. If you chase me, you could probably catch me. If you shoot me, you could catch me quicker. If you throw a rock and knock me out, you’ve essentially caught me. This is not a trivial problem, this has lost me many potential catches, and I demand a solution.
Answer: The wild Pokémon in question actually die from the violence your team has inflicted upon them, the game just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

3. “I would like to be the Pokémon World Champion but this fucking tree is in the way.”
Problem: You approach the next town with mild excitement (minor excitement if the game is a remake), but what’s this? There’s a goddamn tree/rock/Snorlax in the way! Oh, don’t worry, I’ll just climb it/walk over it/shoot it. What? I need a special HM? Fuck off, I’m doing this the easy way. Alas, the game prohibits the easy way.
Answer: The game doesn’t want to show it, but you’re a really overweight, and climbing a tree will not work this time. You’re so overweight that your Machamp won’t even give you a bunk up. As for the poaching of a Snorlax, there’s no guns in this game.

This sort of rant does not come from rational men, it appears there’s something deep down—anger at something from the past, perhaps—that wants me to rip some plotholes out of such an epic game series. Or, more likely, I am just bored and realised that this site deserves a post once in a while.

I was out one time and passed my primary school, a lot of it is guarded by a massive wall taller than my >6ft self. Whenever I pass it I make a brief jump to see it as it sometimes gives me a rush of previously locked memories. I like having memories of experiences of me from the 1990s, because they were experiences of me in the previous millennium. That time I discovered something blatantly obvious, the distinction between this and the last millennium is an arbitrary line from the Gregorian calendar. I already knew this, but acted in a way that the two millennia were distinct and separate from each other as I never registered it being arbitrary.

There are more examples of me thinking like this, for example, there are only two (verified) males alive from the nineteenth century. I get frustrated at my peers for not swallowing the significance of this, but again, it’s arbitrary. Finally, for some odd reason I find 80 and above a good age to live to and 79 and below a bad age to live to (funnily enough I probably won’t even live to 80).

One other age/time/life thing I am weirdly interested in is something that’s not arbitrary. Take someone I admire, like Carl Sagan. He died in 1996 and I was born in 1993. I was three when he died, and for me I would be disappointed if he died in, say, 1992. The fact that we crossed paths, the fact that I was alive at a point he was alive (even though any influence I had on his life was negligible), I just like. The same goes for one of my great-grandfathers (my mother’s mother’s father). He died when I was about 7 months old, but when I found out that when I was born he was still alive, many years ago, I was pleased.

Where am I going? Not far, it’s just some (creepy) way of thinking, but if you’re into the potentially mildly interesting, I can put these thoughts graphically, into what I’m gonna call lifeline graphs.

Let’s take a hypothetical person, this person was born in the start of 1920 and died in the start of 2005, aged 85. This person, as us all, grew in cognition from the beginning of his existence for some years in the growing up phase and in his old age developed dementia where his cognition depleted until his death. For the sake of simplicity, let’s take the beginning of existence at birth (even though there’s some limited cognitive development in the fetal stage (I think), but a birthday is a lot easier to trace) and a gradual change of cognition from birth to 10 years old, even though it would actually be more fluid than this. For this hypothetical man (not James Doohan), dementia was developed at the beginning of 2000. From this, one can represent his existence graphically:

So you can easily see how his existence was at any point on the time axis, even though there is a fine line between life and death, though it is useful to see their cognitive ability (my point is that a vegetable is quite different from a person in their prime, but if you have cancer you’re still the same in mind).

But to summarise the ideas I brought above, and more, let’s throw in several of some real people (including myself) into one lifeline graph:

The time axis clearly shows when people lived, but just looking at the lifelines themselves brings certain points:
1. You can see when people were alive together, The Beatles were all alive together, in their prime. I was alive with my great-granddad and Carl Sagan in my babyhood.
2. Consequently, you can see when people were dead together. This doesn’t just mean any time after two or more people have died, like in 2005 for John, George and Ronald Reagan, but also in 1985 when John and I were dead (in other words, we were ‘on the same level’), even though some get angry at me for thinking of ‘death’ as simply not being alive, meaning any children of mine would get squandered out of this definition (as they are not alive, but not dead by the definitions of most). Nevertheless, if my children were put in the graph, you could see that at the time of writing both my children and my great-granddad were dead.
3. You can see where one’s life has been encompassed in another’s. John Lennon’s life has been encompassed by Carl Sagan’s, who in turn has been encompassed by Ronald Reagan’s, who’s been encompassed by Walter Breuning’s.
4. If many peoples’ lifelines were listed, you could see chains that never break, i.e. a no points where no one in the chain is alive.

Anyway, the point of this really, really long post was just a few thoughts and a somewhat useful invention of mine (unless some fucker made it first).

Finally, if you didn’t recognise the names of any of the notable people, here you go:
Carl Sagan (1934–1996) – American astronomer, died from a difficult battle with myelodysplasia.
Ronald Reagan (1911–2004) – 40th president of the USA, suffered with Alzheimer’s disease for the last ten years of his life (hence the fading lifeline).
John Lennon (1940–1980) – member of The Beatles, shot and killed.
Paul McCartney (1942–) – member of The Beatles.
George Harrison (1943–2001)– member of The Beatles, died from cancer.
Ringo Starr (1940–) – member of The Beatles.
Walter Breuning (1896–) – world’s oldest living man.