Death of a Madman

The modern age of Google-based advertising promises to be a very dreary affair. Google has spent so long farming our online habits with analysts pouring over their every nuance that they know more about what makes us tick than we do ourselves. Let’s not just demonise Google, everyone is in the business of data mining now, Facebook, linkedin, Amazon anyone who has a click to be clicked, a date to be marked, a friend to be made is interested in your choices. Kinda makes cookies lose their sweetness, eh?  Those who track our online trawling have such a well-rounded profile of all our habits and weaknesses they only need to produce a handful of clickable images to trap all of us to such a high degree of accuracy. This is the science of conversion rates.

Punk Rock entrepreneurs

Entrepreneurs are the new rock stars. I may not be the first to draw that analogy and entrepreneurs will not be the last group to be allegorized in this way; TV chefs , footballers and even scientists have all had a similar comparison made. “… are the new rock-stars” is the vocational equivalent to fashion’s “… is the new black”. Rock stars are the benchmark of wild and glamorous. Rock stars have to beat the girls off with a sweaty guitar; rock star means success in excess.   

I wish I was coding

There was a time when every teenager wanted to master the guitar, synthesizer or a pair of decks and play Wembley, Shea or headline Glastonbury. There was a time, and not so long ago, when teens wanted to be getting the action that Steve Tyler, Robert Plant or Tommy Lee were getting. But, now instead of a band many bedroom barons are trying to form a plc.

Right all along!

The failing Greek economy has been a tragedy played out on the world stage for what seems like forever. Europe’s moustached loafers, once the envy of all hard-working northern Europeans and the subject of many an incredulous holiday-maker’s anecdote became the lazy, feckless swine who were endangering the stability of the noble Euro. Then as they began to protest against the austerity imposed for their own good by the wise Troika, they became the petulant children who were obviously never mature enough to have economic sovereignty in the first place.  

Now the Eurozone is finally starting to show signs of growth and the Greek economy’s contraction is slowing despite the austerity, It is time for another renaissance because it’s occurred to me that Greece had it right all along.

Episode 14: Anyone home?

From Under Dark Clouds

From Under Dark Clouds

'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.

Each episode is based on real events. Readers are invited to share their experiences for the Under Dark Clouds treatment. Many have been included in cameo roles, can you spot them?

See link below for contributions

Wear's the beef?

I was still licking my wounds, dear Blogees after the pasting from the peoples' pitbulls. I had a face like a findus lasagne. The police had not wanted to know and if the truth be told there did seem to be a new fashion of minimalist haircuts down the station house. The people were, mostly, quite horrified about the incident but it had blown over a damn sight quicker than the pain in my noggin and anyway, these guys were actually doing something rather than banging their gums about it down at the city hall. They were, of course, quite right about that but banging someone else's gums is not really the best way to deal with the problem either. 

Since that day their presence in the town had been marked but as they hadn't bounced anyone around since then, since me, I was willing to give them a wide birth and at least let the people get the benefits of their provisions. This was a decision I would live to regret.

We had managed to recover a good amount of my predecessor, Mr. Mayor's embezzled funds but it wasn't going to keep us going for long. Central government had promised to help us out but so far all they had sent was a promise.

I had to clear my head so I kicked the Vespa into life and let it take me on a tour of my kingdom. It took me down streets I barely knew existed and on a number of occasions very nearly bucked me off while swinging into a narrow passage. Apart from the boarded up shops I noted all the unfinished and empty flats and houses. The winter air was cold and my swollen face was beginning to throb, I pulled over to put a bit of liquid warmer into my veins. There, opposite was a block of apartments maybe 6 or 7, completely unoccupied with a big sign outside advertising them being for sale. The name of the developer was familiar but I couldn't place it at all. I noted in my newly acquired filofax, took another nip of Irish and set off. The Vespa seemed to have decided on an early shower that day because next thing I knew I was pulling up outside my house.

Penguin's pants

The wife was as cold as a Penguin's pants but I knew that she cared. The kids assaulted my head with questions and irrelevancies but their sublime sanity was soothing. I read them a story at bedtime and had a glass of red stuff, maybe wine, in front of the telly with the wife. She made one comment about keeping my trap shut and another time she winced and asked me if it hurt; she did care.

The empty properties occupied my dreams. The name I couldn't place came out in a song, it was the mayor, at least the previous mayor, it was his name but more importantly he hadn't embezzled it all, some was in bricks and mortar in the middle of town.

When I woke it was still dark so I crept around gathering my clothes and brushing my teeth in stealth mode. I needn't have bothered. Nothing short of putting a bus stop by the wardrobe would stir this sleeping beauty.

The morning air was icy and my face was a map of numbness and pain. By the time I reached the town hall and realised I didn't have the keys again, I was mute. I did, however have my trusty Swiss army knife so it wasn't long before I was in the building.

The birds were in a bit of a fluster but there was still little sign of the sun making an appearance. What I could hear was a shuffling from somewhere below the entrance level. I had never explored the building so had little idea of its layout but it occurred to me now that not only did it have a basement but that it also had rats. I picked up a plastic leaflet rack that had long since given its last information and made my way to the door by the stairs. The handle twisted in my hand and the door punched me in the nose.

On the other side was Mike, the IT guy looking profoundly pre-corn flakes. “Good morning, Sir.”

I asked him what the hell he was doing here at such an ungodly hour. He offered that he was putting in some overtime; I laughed out loud.

“Overtime?” we weren't liquid enough to cover the undertime! I asked him what IT we had down there but he closed the door and offered me a cup of coffee.

I heard another shuffling from behind the door, “ Mike, do we have rats?”

Where it all began

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Peace Child International builds European network to tackle youth unemployment crisis

Peace Child international, the youth-led organization with over 30 years’ experience empowering the young to make their own change has reached out to organizations from all over Europe in a bid to stem the spread of youth unemployment. Its EU Youth job creation network will draw on experience and knowledge from the UK, Ireland, The Netherlands, Bulgaria, Romania and Greece’s Innovation Farm.

Uncertainty and doubt about the future has always been part of the impetus that drives innovation and achievement. It has rarely been far from most people’s minds but the last few years have seen a period of renewed intensity. After decades of raised expectations for many, the roller-coaster is now the big dipper, the double-dipper, the triple-dip to the point where pundits are running out of euphemisms. There are few for whom this is more terrifying than our young. The thought of a future-less generation fills us all with dread.  

who's to blame

Since long before living memory commercial industry has invested trillions to develop products and services that have satisfied needs, both real and fabricated. 

Trillions have been invested to make marketing ever more persuasive. 

Even more has been spent to create new devices that both address needs and desires and open new lucrative markets for their maintenance, upgrading and accessories. 
 
Trillions upon trillions have been conjured up by financial institutions to enable everyone to acquire them. 

..and we are to blame because we bought too much?

or being punished because we just plain ran out of money

End of the Fakelaki?

On new years eve the wife decided to tackle an outstanding round of paper-stamping. We had to take on IKA and OAEE and although New Year's may seem a masochistic day for such a task we headed off with freshly woken kids to the big smoke of Thessaloniki's public services. We made a quick pit stop at the post office to get the road tax paid which went swiftly and without hitch or hindrance. Next the hardcore, IKA. after about ten minutes. Wifey emerged from the offices with a reserved smile, while she hadn't managed to complete she was pleasantly surprised by the generally helpful demeanour of the public servants. We proceeded to the police station as I required some stamps to prove that I'm not an illegal alien. After trying two previous addresses of the dept of aliens I enquired if the bloody office was on wheels and received a smile, not common from public employees let alone the police. And here lies my point, is it me or are public employees growing some humanity? *

Prime the smart-bomb, corporal!

A chilly October evening and the first of the autumn rains was bouncing off the roads and pavements but from deep in the darkest corners of the town hall came light, small but bright.  Inside the hall all the seats are taken and many more stand around the walls; this is the tip of the iceberg that is the resistance.

Tonight there is a seminar about the new legal commercial entity, the IKE, a talk given by a young lawyer,Nayia Antoniou, then another about the merits and process of establishing a startup in America by two lawyers from San Francisco, Christina Tsakona and Andrew Dimitriades.   All this followed attentively by a crowd (more about crowds later) of young and not-so young optimistics, entrepreneurs and professionals. These are the real patriots, the draughtsmen of tomorrow.