CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
January 2010. In case you hadn't noticed, or in case you're a historian reading this far into the future and you haven't chanced across any material from Jan 2010 yet; it snowed in the UK this week. I'm at work during daylight hours, so had to wait until Saturday to do this.
Click for bigger.
Smile at whichever version you like more, and disregard the other one.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
I know, I know. No blogs in November at all. To be honest, the only things that have annoyed me have been of a largely unamusing nature. That being said, I shall use this post to collate the stupid things that my horrible Samsung phone has borne witness to during the last month...
Let the bewilderment begin...
No stopping at any time. I'm cool with that. Mind, I'm no traffic expert, but if you're waiting, haven't you stopped? Or are you supposed to keep moving in a very tight circle, or something?
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Some upmarket gossip-mag or other. From my limited experience of print-media, I was kind of under the impression that the cover-line should represent the most important part of an article. It's what you use to draw in readers that wouldn't otherwise be buying your publication. It doesn't really matter if you take a line out of context, or even bend the truth - the cover-line should be the high-point of the article; the most pertinent facts.
So, it would seem that the high-point of this gripping exposé of Colleen Rooney's newly acquired motherhood is... that the baby's got big hands and sleeps a lot. Needless to say, I bought two copies, just to make sure that I was reading it right. I'm not sure how I faced life before I had this treasured knowledge.
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So, it seems that the maximum amount of possible protection against perspiration, is exactly twice the amount afforded by their previous products. Imagine that, being off by a straight 50%. Seems to me that they could have just: • told people to use twice as much of their old product • concentrated their old product to half its volume • come clean on why they've been watering their old product down to half-strength.
This also means that they can never improve on their product without looking like bullshitters.
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Now I like cartoons. I don't claim have an encyclopedic knowledge-base, I just enjoy them for what they are. Although I don't recall ever having seen a cartoon featuring a Generic Yellow Duck. Maybe this has just slipped under my radar? After all, I only found out where Jamaica actually is this year. I'm 36.
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Saw this in the window of an inner-city amusement arcade (you know, the grim-looking ones). Set me wondering what this mysterious "text club" is? The advertisment doesn't go any further, it just tries to lure the curious into their den of vice and iniquity. Well, I wasn't having any of that. This secret society would have to wait until I could look it up on the internets. All I could find was the first two tenets of their mantra...
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That's about it for now. I'm sure once December kicks in, the usual level of outrage will return... ¬¬
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
For those of you that don't know (and/or haven't worked it out yet), I live in the UK. I, like many people, moan about the weather, the health service, the postal service and the licensing hours. I, like most people who moan, don't actually mean any of it. I know that we're ridiculously priviledged in the UK. But we're British; we like moaning about stuff.
But there is one thing I'm still allowed to moan about. Stupid people. As well as variable-but-non-life-threatening weather, a free health service, and arguably the finest postal service in the world, we have a surfeit of thickos. As I've said before, I'm no rocket scientist, but I know my limits.
So let me get back to the licensing laws. In the UK, it's an offence to purchase, or attempt to purchase, alcoholic beverage if you're under 18 years of age. "Under 18 years of age." Despite all the hysteria in the Daily Mail, it's a strategy that's worked pretty well so far. It's also a bit of a wtf moment for me to realise that I've been enjoying the demon-drink legally for 18 years. I'm 36, you see. In terms of maturity, you could well believe otherwise, but I have actually spent 36 chonological years on this planet.
It's the anniversary of me and my good lady tomorrow (Hallow'een - how cool is that?), so after work today I popped into the local Sainsbury's for a bottle of fizz and some roses (yes, I'm that guy). As it's friday, and I had a list of things to do, I also picked up a Newcastle Brown for the completion of said list.
So there I am, basket in hand at the checkout, and the girl on duty cards me. She looks at the alcohol, looks at me, looks at the alcohol again (in case it's changed to pop?), and looks back at me. Then starts with:
"Do you have any I.D?" "I'm sorry, say again?" "Identification. For the alcohol" "...Oh right, I'm sorry, I'm a little past that now, so I'm afraid I don't."
// she looks around arkwardly
"I haven't carried any I.D. for quite a few years now."
// she gestures for her line manager, who looks at the bottle, looks at me, and nods at the girl without a second thought. The transaction then goes ahead, and no-one has to get a slap.
I had initially thought that she meant she had to get clearance from her supervisor to sell me alcohol. If a checkout operator is old enough to work there, but under 18, they can't serve you without their line manager overseeing it. But no. She clearly thought that I was under the legal age to buy alcohol.
Many (most, in fact) stores in the UK operate the 'challenge 21' policy; whereby if a customer looks like they might be 21 or under, they get carded, just in case they're an 'old' looking 17yr old. Some stores operate 'challenge 25'. But the law is the same, 18 is the legal age to buy alcohol; 21 and 25 are just 'ballpark' points to ask customers for I.D.
Now, I'm not conceited enough to think that I'm a good-looking bastard, but I am aware that I look young for my age. Result of a stupidly-easy life I suppose. But do I really look that young? No. No I fucking don't. In order for me to break the law, I'd have to be LESS THAN HALF MY ACTUAL AGE. Even if I halfed my fucking age, I'd STILL be legal to buy alcohol. Could I pass for 30? More than likely. 25? Hmmm, on a good day possibly. 17? Fuck off.
Maybe she'd seen me browsing the Star Wars figures five minutes earlier? Not unless she's got eyes in the back of her fucking head, no. For fuck's sake. "She's just doing her job!", you cry. Well, I'll think you'll find her job entails a bit of common fucking sense, like thinking 'does this guy REALLY look like a nervous 17yr old?' Don't get me wrong, she was quite pleasant about the whole thing, and suitably embarassed afterwards, but for fuck's sake. The really stupid thing is that this isn't even the first time it's happened! It's about the fucking fourth! But each time, I'm a little bit older, and I figure the ongoing probability of it happening again is diminishing. Never bank on probability where idiots are involved.
There, that's better.
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And while I'm on;
Saw this in WHSmith today. It's a magazine/book detailing the backgrounds of two of the best loved comedians of the early 20th century...
The lighter side, you say? You mean the history of Laurel and Hardy that doesn't involve child-murder, bribery, corporate fraud and witchcraft? Oh great, I'm tired of reading about all that stuff. Mind you, they did pioneer the silent-film equivalent of Hostel, didn't they? They didn't? Oh.
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So, if I'm filling in a prize-crossword or quiz in a magazine, and I use one of these...
...then I'll win, no matter what I put in, right?
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Now, as you'll all know, "Save The Children" is a famous charity that does a lot of great work, and the British "Children in Need" appeal uses Pudsey Bear as its mascot, also to do excellent stuff.
...which makes "Pudsey save the children collection" sound like the money will go from the bucket and straight into someone's pocket. And as for "Refreshments proceeds to Epilepsy Charity"? At least have the decency to make a fucking name up before you keep my money!
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No comment about this one, it just made me laugh out loud in a public place. Didn't investigate the actual story in the magazine, I do have some dignity.
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I don't know if Mr. Glitter has seen the latest range of Star Wars celebration cakes, but I'd be grateful if someone could keep him distracted as he walks past these...
...because it's not that kind of special offer.
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Don't buy toys for your kids in Poundland. This one comes with two combs, a saddle and a FUCKING BLADE TO CUT YOU UP, YOU SLAG!
You've got to love the guy in the toy factory in China who says "It's okay, I know English, I'LL do the layout for the packaging..."
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And if you're not going to buy your kids' toys in Poundland, that means you've got more money left over for PR0N! Really. For one pound.
Yes, it really is; And no, of course I fucking didn't. (Eagle-eyed viewers will notice a series of Laurel and Hardy DVDs next to the pr0n, this clearly is the 18-rated section, with their collection of Saw-prequels... I can't wait to learn about the lighter side of it all)
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Back on the old "restricted sale" items, these people have a policy in place...
...and I've got one too. I won't buy restricted items from people who use apostrophes for plurals and think the plural of knife is knifes (bizzarely, without an apostrophe).
Oh, and two windows down, they're at it again, with random apostrophage. And I don't know what a "computor" game is, but they sound dangerous.
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I know from looking at those it seems like I spend a lot of time in poundy-shops, but they are good for bubble envelopes and CD cases.
And that's been my "stupid world" this week. And I know I haven't stuck the whole 12-days thing with the Star Wars reviews. Work committments I'm afraid. Pfff.
Peace out, y'all!
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
12 Days: 12 Movies – Special Edition Day Six: Ewoks: The Battle For Endor (1985, 97mins, Dir. Jim and Ken Wheat)
Dear lord that film’s about half an hour too long. Who knew that the usually magnificent Carel Struycken could be so shite as Terak? It’s late and I’ve got limited patience after watching that, so this review may be a bit of a mish-mash...
The movie takes place about six months after Caravan of Courage, hence Mace and Cindel have visibly aged. A greater transformation has taken place in their parents however, as Catarine, their mother, is played by an actress who didn’t want to show her face, and their dad’s transformed into the excellent Paul “Breakfast Club” Gleason. That doesn’t matter, however, as Cindel’s brother and both parents are dead before the movie’s hit the ten-minute mark (did I mention? SPOILERS!). After the first movie, I’d have thought that they really couldn’t afford to get rid of Mace... and they proved me right. Although to be fair, there are far bigger problems here than the lack of Eric Walker.
This time round, Wicket has managed to learn basic... erm, basic (the GFFA term for ‘English’) remarkably well. His usage is limited, but he’s grasped the mechanics of the language very nicely considering he’ll have completely forgotten is by the time Princess Leia gets to know him. If only Wicket’s costume was as impressive. On par with the last film, it looks like it’s been used to clean the studio inbetween movies. Which is odd, because there are clearly higher production values this time around, as displayed in the opening family-killing battle.
Also worth mentioning is the awesome stop-motion on display. The boys at ILM developed a creature which looks like the genetic mashing of a Velociraptor and a Dewback, and by god they’re not afraid to show it off!
Anyway, back to the plot. A bunch of Sanyassan Marauders who’d been shipwrecked on Endor for 100 years or so managed to go undetected by the Ewoks, and attack the village one day, killing half the tribe and kidnapping the other half. It turns out the leader, Terak is hell bent on getting a power supply for some manner of ‘magic’, and wants Cindel to unlock her family’s ship’s power-cell. So far, so fairytale.
Cindel and Wicket escape, and meet up with another shipwrecked inhabitant, Noa (really? Is the centre of Endor a giant magnet or something?), who’s the second person in the GFFA to wear glasses (after The Holiday Special’s Saundan). Noa is accompanied by Teek, who displays some of the best puppetry in the whole film, even if he is the most deeply annoying character. Noa’s a gruff old loner (apart from his fucking annoying sidekick) whose character has been designed so sympathetically that we don’t actually buy the ‘gruff’ part. No matter, it’s a kid’s movie after all.
The one question that wouldn’t leave me was: Why didn’t the Empire use Terak’s castle-remains as the basis for their shield generator in ...Jedi? It would have been much easier to defend on account of it being a fucking castle.
The Good: The homage to the Falcon dogfight from ANH when Noa’s ship’s power returns. The costume set and sound design ensure that it feels like Star Wars- although you’ll probably wish it didn’t. There’s a shot of the castle with the gas-giant of Endor in the sky behind, that I think may have served as inspiration in Tartakovsky’s Clone Wars cartoon...
The Bad:Terak’s henchmen seem to have bought their outfits at the same charity shop as Jabba’s guards. Noa’s “getting dressed for action” sequence, featuring buckles and clasps snapping into place as Noa dons... essentially the same outfit. Terak’s gargly version of Scarface’s accent. How come the Ewoks forgot to mention to the Towani family about the fucking-batshit-crazy marauders that lived in the old castle just over the ridge?
The Ugly:Marianne Horine playing the ‘good’ disguise of the evil witch Charal. I know it’s basically pantomime, but she’s just fucking awful. She makes Sian Philips’ portrayal of the alter-ego almost convincing...
Best Line: “Stay away, get help!”, Mace Towani giving Cindel the advice she should have had as the contract for this movie was put in front of her...
My biased rating: 4/10 For a movie that’s often rated above Caravan..., I didn’t like it as much. Too many characters speaking in basic makes for clumsy storytelling. The first one had way more charm.
Tomorrow: The Phantom Menace
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
