Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
I want to live...
....and yet, even more, I want to die! While what I have simply dubbed "Generic Illness" ravages me, body and mind, let me direct you all to the kind of website which could eventually lead to the death of television. It has dozens of handily organized shows, including my beloved Brass Eye (which I'll now shut up about), Harvey Birdman, Look Around You and other magnificence. Not that searching YouTube is SO hard, but this is much better.Enjoy!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Another post pertaining to the general area of below the waist
But not poop! No, no no, this shall not become a PoopJournal. This I promise.
I've recently been asked in an email, "Why don't you talk much in your site about British accents or slang?". This is a fair question since British accents and slang are two of the most defining national qualities - particularly as seen by foreigners, but for Britons as well. It's not something everyone does, but there are native Britons who still take pride in being able to tell where someone is from (be it as vague as "up north" or as specific as what city) simply by hearing them talk. Meanwhile, I'd say that slang is certainly a more slippery beast here than I ever recall it being in the parts of Canada which I've experienced. Terms I heard in Reading had no bearing in London as terms I heard in Broadstairs had none in Reading. Not that England has a monopoly on this phenomena, but there is a notable volume of slang and accents for a country of such modest size.
The reason I've strayed from getting deeply into the subject - and my experiences with it - is twofold. 1) I don't want the Britons I speak with to feel that anything they say to me is up for linguistic study and dissection in front of an online audience. 2)That good old fashioned desire not to feel too much like a tourist, pointing and marvelling at "the funny way these people are".
But for the sake of anyone who plans to visit here, I shall warn you of something which I tripped up over the other day. Yes, "trousers" is still the word for what North Americans would call "pants" - but what is less widely known is that "pants" has, in somewhat recent years, become the term for "underwear".
This would explain the raised eyebrow I got when I was explaining to a co-worker that I didn't have my tube pass on me, thanks to having put on the wrong pants. "Which is a real pain in the arse, because that means I don't have a host of other things on me as well. I keep everything in my pants, pens, pencils, a small exacto knife..." I went on to explain "It's a bad habit I've inheirited from my father, he practically has half of Office Depot in his pants".
Well!
Meanwhile, did the "No gurlz a-loud" sign (written in messy crayon, of course) we posted over the internet fail us? Apparently! Also a baby, named Bubba no less, has proven that America's gun laws continue to be a shining example to us all. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cough my way through being sick for the first time in England. Wheeeee! Literally the day after I signed up with the National Health Service, no less.
I've recently been asked in an email, "Why don't you talk much in your site about British accents or slang?". This is a fair question since British accents and slang are two of the most defining national qualities - particularly as seen by foreigners, but for Britons as well. It's not something everyone does, but there are native Britons who still take pride in being able to tell where someone is from (be it as vague as "up north" or as specific as what city) simply by hearing them talk. Meanwhile, I'd say that slang is certainly a more slippery beast here than I ever recall it being in the parts of Canada which I've experienced. Terms I heard in Reading had no bearing in London as terms I heard in Broadstairs had none in Reading. Not that England has a monopoly on this phenomena, but there is a notable volume of slang and accents for a country of such modest size.
The reason I've strayed from getting deeply into the subject - and my experiences with it - is twofold. 1) I don't want the Britons I speak with to feel that anything they say to me is up for linguistic study and dissection in front of an online audience. 2)That good old fashioned desire not to feel too much like a tourist, pointing and marvelling at "the funny way these people are".
But for the sake of anyone who plans to visit here, I shall warn you of something which I tripped up over the other day. Yes, "trousers" is still the word for what North Americans would call "pants" - but what is less widely known is that "pants" has, in somewhat recent years, become the term for "underwear".
This would explain the raised eyebrow I got when I was explaining to a co-worker that I didn't have my tube pass on me, thanks to having put on the wrong pants. "Which is a real pain in the arse, because that means I don't have a host of other things on me as well. I keep everything in my pants, pens, pencils, a small exacto knife..." I went on to explain "It's a bad habit I've inheirited from my father, he practically has half of Office Depot in his pants".
Well!
Meanwhile, did the "No gurlz a-loud" sign (written in messy crayon, of course) we posted over the internet fail us? Apparently! Also a baby, named Bubba no less, has proven that America's gun laws continue to be a shining example to us all. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cough my way through being sick for the first time in England. Wheeeee! Literally the day after I signed up with the National Health Service, no less.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Newz you cannot possibly Uze(z)
I just tried a new, more arduous form of sit-up and it made me have to poop. I like that I felt more of that marvelous "burn", I wasn't so keen on being made to feel like a human roll of toothpaste.
Just sayin'!
Just sayin'!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Travels and travails and PAEDOPHILLIA?
Well, I've had a long conference with Old Man Money and it looks like visiting Canada will have to be a December/Christmas thing. Though recent events have upgraded a June trip from implausible to plausible, it has not yet graduated to wise. In short, I'd be cleaning out my savings account and leaving myself in a precarious position for when I returned to London. Plus I've lately been having crazy thoughts about "planning for retirement" and "not living hand-to-mouth". Sorry, to those who were hoping to see me sooner rather than later. If I had the ability, I'd visit in both June and December - with smaller trips all over Europe as well.
So now I am presented with the truly First World Problem of deciding what I want to do for a little vacation to celebrate my birthday and cap off what I sincerely hope to be the end of my "career" in data entry (it almost goes without saying that even though it's a month until this Network Rail contract finally ends, I've started hunting for a new and more stimulating job). On the one hand it's tempting to spend a modest wad of cash visiting Rome (before it crumbles) or somewhere in Greece for four or five days - seeking thrills and sights then coming back to London to decompress and recover from making the most of a few days somewhere exotic.
Or do I retreat to stay with my friends in Uffington/Oxford, take a few days off from hustle and/or bustle as well as the Internet (gasp) in order to seriously relax while focusing on writing and drawing in-between long country walks? Cheaper and more productive by far, but not as exciting or exotic - I certainly would miss seeing the Coliseum or the Aegean sea.
Perhaps I could be cheeky enough to do both, back-to-back?
In other news, here's an interesting artifact from recent British history which could be filed under the What's Got Us Whipped Up Into Hysterics Now? column. In the late '90's and very early 2000s's, up until terrorism stole our hearts and minds, paedophiles where the boogey-men supreme in England. Chris Morris, a father of two children and the man behind Brass Eye, got fed up with how the British people were being whipped up into absolute brainless terror so as to further the agenda of several newspapers, TV stations and politicians. Thus, though Brass Eye had been off the air for a few years, he resurrected his old show to produce a special entitled "Paedogeddon". You can find it on Youtube, split into three parts (1 - 2 - 3).
This article, What happens when you satirize hysteria?, does a good job of chronicling that brief period and the various reactions to the show. Here is a rather telling quote from the three page article, the italics added by yours truly:
"...a moral panic of gargantuan proportions has swept the land. Last summer in the English coastal town of Portsmouth, egged on by English tabloids running a "name and shame" campaign, mobs of vigilantes roamed the streets like medieval peasants. But instead of pitchforks they carried knuckle dusters and baseball bats, and rather than hunchbacks they were seeking "kiddie fiddlers," who existed only in the minds of the mob.
Dozens of people were wrongly accused, and one man, a pediatrician, had to leave the area after some of the protesters were confused by the term and torched his house. The pediatrician managed to keep his name out of the press, for fear that more crime might follow him. Another pediatrician, 30-year-old Yvette Cloete, had to leave her home in Gwent, South Wales after it was vandalized: Cloete arrived home from work to see the word "paedo" daubed all over her walls. Police say "the astonishing ignorance" of local anti-pedophile protestors forced her out. "
So now I am presented with the truly First World Problem of deciding what I want to do for a little vacation to celebrate my birthday and cap off what I sincerely hope to be the end of my "career" in data entry (it almost goes without saying that even though it's a month until this Network Rail contract finally ends, I've started hunting for a new and more stimulating job). On the one hand it's tempting to spend a modest wad of cash visiting Rome (before it crumbles) or somewhere in Greece for four or five days - seeking thrills and sights then coming back to London to decompress and recover from making the most of a few days somewhere exotic.
Or do I retreat to stay with my friends in Uffington/Oxford, take a few days off from hustle and/or bustle as well as the Internet (gasp) in order to seriously relax while focusing on writing and drawing in-between long country walks? Cheaper and more productive by far, but not as exciting or exotic - I certainly would miss seeing the Coliseum or the Aegean sea.
Perhaps I could be cheeky enough to do both, back-to-back?
In other news, here's an interesting artifact from recent British history which could be filed under the What's Got Us Whipped Up Into Hysterics Now? column. In the late '90's and very early 2000s's, up until terrorism stole our hearts and minds, paedophiles where the boogey-men supreme in England. Chris Morris, a father of two children and the man behind Brass Eye, got fed up with how the British people were being whipped up into absolute brainless terror so as to further the agenda of several newspapers, TV stations and politicians. Thus, though Brass Eye had been off the air for a few years, he resurrected his old show to produce a special entitled "Paedogeddon". You can find it on Youtube, split into three parts (1 - 2 - 3).
This article, What happens when you satirize hysteria?, does a good job of chronicling that brief period and the various reactions to the show. Here is a rather telling quote from the three page article, the italics added by yours truly:
"...a moral panic of gargantuan proportions has swept the land. Last summer in the English coastal town of Portsmouth, egged on by English tabloids running a "name and shame" campaign, mobs of vigilantes roamed the streets like medieval peasants. But instead of pitchforks they carried knuckle dusters and baseball bats, and rather than hunchbacks they were seeking "kiddie fiddlers," who existed only in the minds of the mob.
Dozens of people were wrongly accused, and one man, a pediatrician, had to leave the area after some of the protesters were confused by the term and torched his house. The pediatrician managed to keep his name out of the press, for fear that more crime might follow him. Another pediatrician, 30-year-old Yvette Cloete, had to leave her home in Gwent, South Wales after it was vandalized: Cloete arrived home from work to see the word "paedo" daubed all over her walls. Police say "the astonishing ignorance" of local anti-pedophile protestors forced her out. "
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Bahahahahwhahahawhahwwhaa......oh lord I've wet myself
I've had this marvelous, marvelous show put under my nose - Brass Eye, a fine satire of alarmist news programs if there ever was one! The second clip has Simon Pegg as a militant pedophile - a Milipede.
The Gay fellow looks a bit like the Joker
This picture, originally from a 1936 British Publication Men Only, gave me a good laugh and hopefully it'll do the same for you. I nabbed it from the most recent issue of Time Out, which has the highly useful theme of "FREE" (things to do in London).Meanwhile, while working on the second draft of "Momentum", I keep privately wishing that I'd invented the phrase "Fuck along, now" and that I could reasonably include it in the script.
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