CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
Everything I thought was certain has now changed. It would seem that anything is now possible.
Going into work On the morning of Thursday 18th September 2008, I found myself in a place I hadn't been to since the summer of 1991 (and it wasn't Laser Quest on Margate seafront). I found myself able to put my hand on my heart and say something I thought I'd never say again...
"The new Metallica album is... fucking AWESOME."
It seems melodramatic, I know, but it's really affected me that much, I kid you not. The cracks started to appear when they were touring for the black album. It took me a while (alright, a couple of weeks) to adjust to their 'rock' sound, and while I fucking LOVE that album, it's almost like a different band that recorded '...And Justice For All'. The new sound gained them a larger commercial credibility, and they started rolling out singles like Michael Jackson on 'Bad'. Then they toured three times off the back of one album. They were going to have to pull something pretty amazing out of the bag to retain a fanbase that was still besotted with Slayer, and the way they stayed fresh without changing their sound every two years.
It's not that I ever grew out of Metallica, it's more that come 1996, we parted ways as I thought that their material for the 'Load' album was shit, 'ReLoad' equally shit, 'S&M' was a wasted opportunity and the least said about 'St. Anger' the better. That Napster episode also wound me up for reasons I won't rant about here. All in all, it seemed like ego had gotten the better of the boys and any connection to the raw, visceral thrash metal of the 1980's was gone for good. I still listened to the first five albums on a semi-regular basis, but had no real passion for the band any more.
Then, in early September I saw an ad or an article (or something) about the new Metallica Album, 'Death Magnetic', and thought to myself "now THAT's a pretty fucking good name for an album", and it was only out of idle curiosity that I gave it a whirl. The great thing about it is that things just seem to slot into place...
THE GOOD:
1) The title: DEATH MAGNETIC. It just sounds fucking cool, but maybe that's because it's got 'death' in the title. Any who doesn't like magnets, eh? Not overly enamoured of the cover, but hey ho.
2) The track layout. It's all classic Metallica here, and sticks to the old-school formula. Track one starts with a clean guitar sound before getting harsh and noisy (like on RtL, MoP & tBA). Track four is the 'ballad' track (like on RtL, MoP & AJFA). The penultimate track is the way-long instrumental track (like on RtL, MoP & AJFA).
3) Even "The Unforgiven Part 3" is a great achievement when you consider that "Part 2" sounded like a bad rip-off of a song that should never, NEVER, be sequelled. Some things are just sacred, and trying to follow them up is an insult to the original (The Crow 2, anyone? Oh, how about Dusk Till Dawn 2?). That being said, "Part 3" just WORKS. The song structure is the same and the musical composition and lyrics are evocative of the original without being a rehash.
4) The production: The album has the raw, stripped feel of 'And Justice for All', with the melodies of 'The Black Album'. It almost feels like they should have put this record out in 1990, as a bridge between the two. The transition between AJfA and tBA threw a lot of people at the time (myself included), and this sounds like the best of both worlds.
THE BAD:
1) They're still a bunch of fucking whiny old men. I couldn't bring myself to watch 'Some Kind of Monster' and listen to their self-indulgent shite about how hard it is to be a millionnaire musician with a global fanbase hanging on your every word, knowing you'll fill arenas world-wide whenever you decide to tour. With this in mind, I haven't been able to bring myself to watch the two-hour 'Making Death Magnetic' documentary either. I have a funny feeling it may spoil the album for me.
2) What the fuck is going on in the video for 'The Day That Never Comes'? I was under the impression that it's a song about bullying and/or domestic violence/abuse... so they make a video set in Iraq where some troops get shot, and the survivors nearly frag an Iraqi couple on their way to market, but decide not to. I guess it's supposed to be a lesson about prejudice and keeping an open mind, whilst supporting the troops that are out there doing a shitty job for a guy who interfered in someone else's business to try and boost his popularity; an admirable sentiment, but IT DOESN'T WORK WITH THIS SONG.
THE UGLY:
1) I'm not going to go into detail, but remember that massive court case a few years back where Metallica were instrumental (no pun intended) in shutting Napster down? Well, if we lived in Metallica's ideal world, I wouldn't have heard the album - wouldn't have loved the album - wouldn't have BOUGHT the album. But we don't, so I did, I did, and I DID. Go figure.
So, to sum up; in a year where Oasis and Dido have have put out albums that bored the arse off me; in a year where 'new music' is generally boring the arse off me and I'm listening to a lot of Skynyrd and old-school blues; Metallica have put a fucking great big smile on my face. Listening to 'Death Magnetic' has got to be the ONLY time I miss my long hair (just a bit, not a lot).
If you liked Metallica's first five albums, GO AND LISTEN TO DEATH MAGNETIC \m/
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
I don't drink tea. Don't like the taste, simple as that. Don't really have an agenda about it.
Few people at work do though, and as I've got a proper office job now, it's like getting a round in a couple of times a day (albeit a very cheap round, though with more effort). So, summer's just about gone and I was thinking about that thing that some tea-drinkers say when it's hot.
"Have a cup of tea - that will keep you cool!"
Now, call me a twat, but I don't think drinking a HOT drink when it's HOT is actually going to help me feel any more comfortable. Ah, but there's reason behind their claim you see...
"The hot tea makes you sweat, which is nature's way of cooling you down"
...the fuck? By that rationale, I should drink cold drinks in the winter then? 'Cos that'll make me shiver which is nature's way of warming me up! For fuck's sake. All these years I've been drinking cold drinks to try and lower my internal body temperature, when I should have been doing the EXACT OPPOSITE. What a knob. They also follow up with the following interesting bit of secondary persuasion...
"All the Arabs do it, and they live in the desert. They HAVE to keep cool!"
Well, pardon me for perpetuating the stereotype, but aren't the ones who "live in the desert" all wearing WHITE FUCKING SHEETS and living in WHITE FUCKING TENTS? I've got a black shirt on (okay, own fault), and I work in a badly airconned building with a bunch of machines all pumping out heat- it's not the same fucking ball-game. Of course, this doesn't put them off, they're on a pro-tea roll by then...
"Well, that Pepsi's bad for you, think of all the sugar and caffeine! You'll get dehydrated!"
*cough* 1) it's diet Pepsi, 2) there's more caffeine in tea than there is in an equal measure of coffee, so don't go fucking lecturing me on caffeine. 3) Tea also contains Tannin - an astringent which inhibits the body's abilty to absorb iron and calcium. Oh, and 4) I don't fucking like tea.
"Well, you should give it a try"
What the fuck for? I can smell it when I'm making it for you and I don't like it. Maybe I should try human excrement as well? I don't like the smell of that. Maybe you should try it as you seem more open minded than me?
I usually end the conversation before I get to saying that last sentence. I should point out, 99.5% of tea drinkers don't fall into this category, but I find the 0.05% that do in every fucking job I get. There is of course a solution to this quandary...
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
So I've been thinking about Skeletor. Y'know, the way you do.
Poor bastard, thwarted at every turn by He-Man. All he wants is to rule the world. if you watch a few episodes of Masters of the Universe, you'll see that there's actually fuck all ON Eternia. No bastard lives there, it's just Adam, his parents in the castle (watch the first episode), his mates, and the bad folks. The bad folks mainly consisting of Skeletor and about five others, all trying to take over the planet. Oh, and his cousin She-Ra lives around the other side of the planet, also doing very little.
They clearly don't have interplanetary travel yet, or they'd have buggered off to another planet and ruled that. it wouldn't matter that there's nothing to rule on another planet, there's basically nothing to rule on Eternia. I've no idea what Prince Adam's old man actually DOES with his days. Unless of course there are millions of inhabitants that Filmation couldn't be arsed to draw an animate back in the day. Anyhow, that's not the main jist of what I was pondering.
I was wondering how the fuck anyone can understand Skeletor. Look at him up there. Look at his mouth. Now I'm not going to sit through that shitty Dolph Lungren film to check, but I was under the impression that 'movie' Skeletor is a deformed/ugly/shy bloke in a fearsome mask, a bit like the Phantom of the Opera, wearing battle-armour to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies etc. Bottom line is, the mouth-piece isn't supposed to move when he speaks.
UNLIKE 'cartoon' Skeletor; His merry jaw dances along with every curse and sneer. Now I've got not problem with him talking, it's not like he's a complete skeleton (check out the pecs every time he gets riled - he's built like a brick shit-house), so I'd imagine he has a full set of lungs/vocal chords/tongue etc. My problem lies with the fact that HE HAS NO LIPS, so he can't shape his words properly. This would make his usual threatening discourse with He-Man a bit crap...
+ + + + + + + + + +
[Ext. Daytime. A mountain pass. He-Man and his companions are facing off against their foes...]
HE-MAN: You won't win Skeletor. My brave allies will soon have your cohorts behind bars and the people of Eternia will be safe once more!
MAN-AT-ARMS: What the fuck is he on about? Is he pissed?
HE-MAN: He's munted, he can't even talk!
SKELETOR: GRAARRRGH, RARRRRAAARG , RARRARAGH!
TEELA: Oi, Evil-Lynn! Next time you're out on the lash, leave the spesh at home will ya?
[cut to group shot of the heroes, laughing good-naturedly]
HE-MAN: Now THERE's a new definition of 'Speak no Evil'!
ALL: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
[fade]
SKELETOR: ...GOLLOCKS.
[fade in to ORCO, here to deliver the episode's moral]
ORCO: Today, Skeletor learned that in order to exercise his will over all Eternian civilisation, he'd have to grow A FACE. The fucking dribbling freak.
[fade and credits]
+ + + + + + + + + +
Maybe he's telepathic and the illusion is created for the benefit of the audience and to aid the narrative? Maybe I'm just reading too much into it? Either way, I'm not convinced.
Next week, I'll have been watching Thundercats...
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
...I think Chas'n'Dave are stalking me.
Maybe you don't know who Chas'n'Dave are? They're a duo (more properly a trio, they've got an unnamed drummer) who's height of 'fame' was in the 1980's, with a musical style they pioneered as a cross between rock'n'roll, boogie-woogie and Cockney. They call it Rockney. Here, look at their cheeky-chappie faces.
Now, I'm aware that they look cheesy as fuck, and the description IS cheesy as fuck, but the galling thing is, they're actually pretty fucking good at what they do. Now the back story...
During the 1980's, my family did a lot of family trips to Scotland and various holidays by car, plus visiting my grandparents at the weekends. As a result, with the parents in the front and in charge of the tape deck, the barrage of crap we had to listen to was truly astounding (not all of it, but SOME). Part of that was Chas'n'Dave (which in fairness, we used to ask for). As I said, they were moderately successful in the 80's, with frequent TV appearances, songs in the hit parade, and the likes of The Two Ronnies and Russ Abbot taking the piss out of them. One of their bigger 'hits' was a song called '(Down to) Margate', which was a ditty about the Cockney tradition of going off down to Margate (surprisingly) for a day-trip during the summer.
This song took on more 'meaning' when we actually WENT to Margate one year, and got more and more poignant with each subsequent holiday. So, as you can imagine, by the time we MOVED there it was practically a fucking anthem. Chaster and David (for 'tis their names) have lately become something of a subject of affectionate ridicule, not least between my sister and I, who keep sourcing their bargain-basement CDs and Cassettes for silly birthday presents etc (Trip to the Isle of Wight last year, full CD on in the car, fucking ace). So while I freely take the piss out of my Cockney brethren, it's done rather lovingly. I'd still let them in my house. OR WOULD I?
This tale gathers pace a couple of years ago when the eponymous duo were due to play the Winter Gardens in Margate (where else?). We toyed with the idea of going, but frankly, there are too many people at their shows who take them a little too seriously, and would mistake our laughter for cruel mockery. So we passed on that. Then a couple of months ago, my sister asked me if I wanted to come and visit Torquay (where she lives), as Chassington and Davmansworth were playing there. Again, had I been visiting anyway, I may have been up for a laugh, but I didn't really want to make the trip just for that one gig. So we passed on the idea.Two weeks ago (July 26, I'm not fucking making this up), I took our lass down to Bournemouth for a short weekend away. We arrived on Saturday lunchtime and we were going again on Sunday afternoon, so we only had one night there. It was a beautiful day, so we were strolling along the seafront (as one does), and took a walk down the pier. There's a theatre at the end which puts on typical British seaside shows (variety shows etc). Then I clock the poster outside the door. Chas & Dave - Sat 26th July - 8:00pm I fucking kid you not... http://snipurl.com/3bwpr
Anyway, it was like £17 each for the tickets so we decided to pass as we wanted to see a bit of the town that night, have a few jars, y'know. We had a bit of a laugh over it, but gave it no more thought. No harm done.
Then, not three days later, we get the 'local' What's-On/community/articles-I'll-never-read magazine through the door, the Didcot Dynamo (great eh?). Our lass is flicking through it and sees an ad for CHAS'n'DAVE. At the fucking Didcot Civic Hall. On February 14th 2009, Valentine's day!
If this isn't Karma trying to get me and our lass to one of their gigs, I don't know what fucking is. You've got to understand that the Cockney sparrers mainly play the seaside theatre circuit, and larger towns only.
They say that in the England, you're never more than 72 miles from the sea. Didcot is that place. Oxfordshire is the MOST inland point in England. And Didcot is NOT a big town. Had they played Oxford or Reading, I could understand that (they are playing Reading - but not the Festival :p ), but Didcot. And not even the spanky new Arts Centre they're currenly finishing... no, the shitty Civic Hall! Fate is pushing, pushing, PUSHING these two East-end virtuosos coser and closer to me in a bid for me to see them perform live. And the stupid thing is, I'll probably pass on it.
What more do they have to do? Turn up at my fucking door with an accordion and a banjo? (although that WOULD be great) I'm genuinely perplexed by this turn of events. I've long believed in karma, fate and causality; I just thought it would push me towards more monumental things in life - a cure for cancer, helping the needy, meting out divine justice etc... instead, God is telling me that I need to experience these two musical behemoths in person... I'll think about it.
They've got their beer in the sideboard here, let mother sort if out if he comes round here...
http://www.chasndave.com/
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
If you buy a newspaper today or tomorrow, have a look on the date on the front. If you buy anything that warrants a receipt, have a look at the date on it. And when you've got to write the date, have a look at what you're writing.
If you do this within the next month, you'll be seeing "2008". Think about that, why that number?
2008 years since what? The birth of Christ, obviously, but are you a Christian? Was the person that sold you the paper or gave you the receipt a Christian? Maybe you're a Satanist and you're being served by a Muslim, and yet the Christians are telling you what the date is. I'm not overly religious myself (as you know), and I try to be as fair-minded as I can (Karma and all that - don't think that counts as a religion), and I was thinking the other day:
Doesn't it seem a little selfish of the Christians to get to choose what year it is?
Maybe the Muslim calendar has a completely different year-number, which is on the front of their papers. Don't they get a little gutted every time they've got to write a cheque or sign for a washing machine..?
So I was thinking, what did they call the years before Anno Domini? At the time, I mean.
Quite obviously, they didn't call it B.C. on account of them not knowing that the birth of The Saviour was going to happen in X years time. What about when they had to write a cheque, or sign for a new Sky+ box?
Leaving those fripperies aside, they must have had a system for knowing what year it was, otherwise how would they know when they were born and when their birthdays were? How could they talk about the past?
"You remember that year we went to Gaul for our holidays?" "What year was that, year X?" "No X was when we went to Rome" "Oh hang on, EVERY year is called X"
Maybe they gave the years names, like the Chinese calendar (dog, rabbit etc), but with a non-repetitive system. So they called them, Bob, Terry, John, Paul, George, Ringo, Mark T, Mark J, Augustus, etc?
So assuming they DID have a year-numbering system (logically, they did), what was it based on? Apparently, each religion sets their year 0 at the arrival of their chosen one or messiah. So who was the big deal before Jesus? Weren't his followers a bit hacked off at suddenly having to write "33AD" on their cheques?
I'd be fucking livid.
Is it time we reset the date again and gave it to another religion? Not one of the big-boys, give it to some small, just-starting-out one. Like Christianity was 2000 years ago.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not having a go at the Christians; I just don't like that smug look they've got when they're writing a cheque...
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
And I quote...
If you go out in the woods today You're sure of a big surprise. If you go out in the woods today You'd better go in disguise. For every bear that ever there was Will gather there for certain, because Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic..
1) Yes, I WOULD be surprised if I was in a forest or wooded area and saw some teddy bears having a picnic. It's 2008, and I don't believe that stuff happens any more.
2) Why would I need a disguise? Are they TEDDY bears or GRIZZLY bears? Will they fly into Bear-Rage if they should catch me intruding uninvited upon their al fresco snackage? Exactly how many STUFFED ANIMALS do you think you could take on in a fight? Because according to the song, "every bear that ever there was" is going to be there. According to the internets, the first "teddy bear" was invented in 1902. So that's every cuddly bear (not other animals) that's been produced worldwide over the last 106 YEARS. How big are these woods? And they're all going to go fucking mental when they hear you step on a twig. I hope you're prepared. "Oh, they're only cuddly bears!" you exclaim - yes, but they've got PICNIC CUTLERY. So with that in mind, what kind of disguise would be best to assuage their fury? Do you think they'll be any LESS annoyed when they turn around and see Batman or a harlequin in the woods? Perhaps you'd wear a bear-costume? Keep in mind how much bigger you're going to be than them, they'll sus you out in a second, mate. You're finished.
Picnic time for teddy bears, The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today. Watch them, catch them unawares, And see them picnic on their holiday. See them gaily dance about. They love to play and shout. And never have any cares. At six o'clock their mommies and daddies Will take them home to bed Because they're tired little teddy bears.
3) After my expansion of the first verse there, this just sounds fucking creepy now. Like some kind of "teddy ritual", as they dance with glee around the disemboweled, dismembered corpse of some unsuspecting rambler. Presumably the bears' parents don't mind the carnage at 1800 when they come to pick them up? Or maybe the bears have cleared it all up. Or eaten it. And for "every bear that ever there was" being picked up at six, think of the traffic tailbacks! Ridiculous.
If you go out in the woods today, You'd better not go alone. It's lovely out in the woods today, But safer to stay at home.
Okay, now I'm just scared. What the fuck are these bears going to do? How does the lyricist know of all this? Did the bears let him live to tell the tale? I bet the bears are like those ants in Indy4, or the scarab beetles in The Mummy.
Fuck the bears, and fuck the woods. I'm staying at home on the internet.
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
You know Val Doonican? Yeah, you know him, lovely cuddly Val! Here he is...
"Val" is short for Valentine by the way, not Valerie. I mean, John Wayne being called "Marion" is one thing, but calling a bloke Valerie would just be taking the piss, wouldn't it? ANYHOW, I had "Patrick McGinty's Goat" stuck in my craw the other day. Not his actual goat, but the song by that name. Let's get acquainted with the first verse...
Mister Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note, Came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat. Said he, "Sure, of goat's milk I mean to have my fill!" But when he got his nanny home, he found it was a bill.
So, the song centres around a gentleman from Ireland who buys a goat and the ensuing comedic situations. It seems odd that this song was popularised BY an Irishman during the 1970s, when the stereotypical negative view of the Irish being a bit dim and hapless was at its' height. If anything, Val's reinforcing this view right off the bat! Still, let's look at the song in depth...
+ + +
Mister Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note
Let me stop you there Val; "an Irishman of note?" I can't say I've ever heard of him outside of this song. He's arguably a "man of note" now, but if anything, that's down to the fame afforded to him via the lyrics of this song. At the time of you writing this, not many people had heard of him at all.
+ + +
Came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat
...define fortune? How expensive was the goat? You're either implying that he's thick enough to spend a RIDICULOUS amount of money on a GOAT, or came by a modest amount of money (enough to buy a goat) and was retarded enough to think of this as untold riches... which he'd still spend on a GOAT. For fuck's sake.
+ + +
Said he, "Sure, of goat's milk I mean to have my fill!
So he's bought a goat just for the milk? He's probably thinking "ooh, free milk", but the outlay to saving ratio has got to be TREMENDOUS - he paid a "fortune" for the goat, remember? How long will he be getting milk for until it's paid for itself? Bear in mind he's got to feed and care for the goat, and it's not going to live forever so he'd better make the money back soon. Can it produce that much milk? Maybe he should have bought a goat that can write songs or novels or something? I think that spending a "fortune" on a single animal and hoping to make that money back in milk during either the animal's or your own lifetime is looking pretty much like false economy. It's becoming clear that this windfall has affected Patrick's judgement...
+ + +
But when he got his nanny home, he found it was a bill.
...and affected his eyesight, as he clearly didn't notice the goats' Old Chap in the showroom. Did the goat salesman tuck it between the goats' legs? Or is Val simply implying that Patrick fits the clichéd 'thick' stereotype perfectly and can't tell the sex of a goat he's going to buy? This is assuming, of course, that Cuddly Val is referring to Nanny and Billy goats, the common parlance for the male and female of the species, and doesn't simply mean that when Patrick confused his grandmother with some manner of invoice. Although that would be somewhat off-topic, wouldn't it?
And so the song goes on with various double entendres, and with the goat eating everything in sight until it eats some explosives and blows itself up (highly unlikely I'd have thought. Poisoning would occur before explosion, surely? It'd have to swallow the dynamite whole and still leave the detonator cable intact coming out of it's mouth.) In fairness, the song's more about the goat than Mr. McGinty, but you'd think Val would have at least given the goat a name, wouldn't you? Call the song "Derek the Goat", instead of publicising a man stupid enough to spend an obscene amount of money on an animal he has no use for, then doesn't even have the common sense to either sell on or kill.
I just don't get it...
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
I don't really get that whole "kumbaya" thing, and it's been bothering me for a couple of weeks now.
Accoring to the internets (because no-one at work knows), 'Kumbaya' means "come by here", as a summoning or request to a deity for assistance. Which would be fine if the song was a general cry for help from the woes of the world, but it's quite clearly not.
So someone's crying. And this is the lyricist's way of saying "Dear God, this fella here's clearly having a hard time in this world you've created. He's lacrimating fluid from his eyes, which is indicative of either physical or emotional pain (you should know, you designed the system). I really think it'd be the decent thing if you stopped by and maybe had a word with him, explaining that it's all part of The Plan (Earth 1.0) etc. Cheers God, Me."
This'd be fair play in itself. It's a selfless request for the easing of another's torment and/or discomfort. Then it gets a little weird...
So someone's laughing. And..? Are they seriously asking God to come round just because someone's enjoying themselves? He's a busy deity, y'know. He's terraforming planets you've never even heard of, and working out an operating system which balances cause-and-effect and mathematics with free-will. He hasn't got time to call round just because you've told your mate a really good joke and you think He should hear it first-hand. Maybe this "someone" is just watching a sitcom, and is enjoying the hilarity of the situation arising in one of the scenes? Well, I think God KNOWS because he made that sitcom possible. Inviting Him round to show him something he essentially MADE is a bit of a waste of time, don't you think? It's timewasting appointments like this that waste precious Creative time and have resulted in the waiting list we've now got! Could you see the Practice Nurse instead?
Or maybe the 'someone' is laughing at a puppy with a leg missing. Or maybe it's Rod Stewart (or Kelly Jones) laughing at a blind man crossing the road. Or someone enjoying a Jim Davidson gig. Either way, informing God that "someone" is misusing the Gift of Laughter for callous purposes is tantamount to being a Grass. You may THINK you've got the moral high-ground, but none of us appreciates it. It's the exertion of free-will, no matter how wrong you think it is.
The song continues along a similar rambling vein with "someone's singing" and "someone's praying". Singing, so what? Loads of people sing. "Someone's auditioning for X-Factor when they clearly shouldn't be" would be more appropriate. And as for "Someone's praying, Lord"... it's God's JOB to listen out for that kind of thing, you don't need to tell him! You wouldn't burst into the Doctor's office mid-consultation, and exclaim "he's got a bad arm!".
I'm starting to see why God allows bad things to happen to people who believe they have the best of intentions...
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
You know who I mean, don'tcha?
Well, why were they called "The A-Team" exactly? Did they think of that themselves, or did someone else call them it and it just kind of stuck? Bearing in mind they'd escaped from prison and they were trying to keep a low profile; driving a VERY distinctive black GMC around and creating general havoc with drug barons and sweatshop-gangmasters isn't a good start. Calling yourselves "The A-Team" is just going to attract more unwanted attention isn't it?
Then it occurrs to me that the only logical reason for choosing that name is so that can be first in the phone book. "If you're in trouble, and you can find them, maybe you can hire... The A-team. Look under "V" for Vigilante"
That way, those Hispanic sweatshop workers in that shed and Boy George would be able to get hold of them easily enough. I bet Knight Rider was fucking kicking himself. He should have called himself AARDVARK RIDER.
+ + +
And speaking of the van... You know how they kept drugging BA to get him into whatever vehicle was being commandeered (stolen) by Murdoch? If they've covered a distance that justifies flying and drugging the most dangerous fucker in the gang, how come the van was always at the other end waiting for them? Who drove it there? Why not just go in the van?
If they had to fly back after an adventure to the long-stay car-park, the military could easily have caught them by just staking out the fucking obvious van. Unless of course they had a series of vans in towns, cities and scrubland locations across the country, just waiting for them to arrive. That'd be quite sensible actually. They could hire them out when they're not in town, and the military would never work out which van had the REAL A-team in it. AND they'd make a few bob on the side. GENIUS.
Still, I'd probably have thought of a better name.
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
...or more cogently, the lack thereof.
Listening to Instill today, I got to thinking about those playground games we used to indulge in at Junior School. Nothing as straightforward as football or conkers, more like the creativeness of Bulldog, British Bulldog, Stuck in the mud and the most fucking bizarre of the lot...
Who wants to play Japs and English?
Now, for those of you who didn't play or don't remember, this is not a war-based roleplaying game. This was actually just putting your arms on each others shoulders to form a line that expanded with each new 'recruit' whilst singing the above question in unison. The line got longer and you all walked around the yard drumming up new candidates for the game. When you had to turn a corner or turn around, those in the middle of the line had it easy while those on either end were suddenly obliged to sprint like fuck to keep the line straight.
The most important thing to remember is that this recruitment drive never seemed to lead into any actual game where the Japanese forces would be pitted against their British counterparts in military combat. It was always the end of break (alright, PLAYTIME) before we could get that far.
With this in mind, we also never got into a situation where we had to pick which side we were going to be on. This was probably just as well, as being a bunch of English, caucasian boys, no-one was going to volunteer to be Japanese. This was probably just as well too as the Japanese were clearly going to lose (as would any nation that oppsed the might of the British Empire in the mind of a seven-year-old). There weren't any Japanese kids at our school. There weren't any Asian kids either. There weren't any Afro-Caribbean kids until I was in the third year and we all seemingly reacted like we'd never seen black people before (much to the teachers' disquiet, and my own now).
>> With this in mind, why the fuck were we pitting the Japanese against the English?
My only explanation is that "Who wants to play Germans and English?" didn't fit phonetically with the tune we sang it to (made up of two different notes with the first syllable of ENGlish being three semitones lower than the rest of the line). So with that musical constraint, we were going to make sure the opposing force was made up of people who couldn't be accurately represented in the playground. If we HAD chosen Germans, at least some of us could have passed for the Teutonic enemy, being largely Caucasian themselves.
That being said, if there HAD been a Japanese boy at school at the time, the poor fucker would only have had a line of caucasian boys wanting to play out a 35>1 war with him, hungry for English victory. And if there'd been MORE than one Japanese boy, it could easily have spilled over into gang warfare. Or even some Chinese kids - at that age we weren't fussy. >> Probably all for the best then <<
Incidentally, Google brings up NOTHING for this game, but I fucking assure you - it DID happen.
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
Firstly, Afroman - Because I got High (2001) Popular amongst chavs and dickheads when it came out, who didn't really get the point of the song. Also used in the movie Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back in the same year, which was excellent btw Anyway, here he is...
I think we're all pretty much aware of this modern-day morality tale. Mr Afroman leads us through a resumé of his life, showing us how he lost so many opportunities because of his drug abuse. Lyrically, the song starts in a smug, cocky tone, leading us to believe he's proud of being one of life's dropouts. But as the song progresses, we find out that no! He's actually been a twat all along, and he knows it! He's hoping that by using the gradual reveal technique, he'll get the attention of those he's trying to educate. It may have worked, I'm not really sure.
I've got no real problem with the song per sé, Afroman's standing on morally sturdy ground. It's just that one part of the lyrics stands out to me as odd...
"I was gonna go to class before I got high, I coulda cheated and I coulda passed but I got high."
Now, I'm not sure what his point is here. Had he gone to school, he'd have cheated in an exam and falsely gained qualifications he had no real right to. Knowing that he stood no chance of passing the exam legitimately, he chose to forego the test. The fact that he used that time to partake of illegal drugs is neither here nor there. Given the rest of the song, it's hardly fucking surprising.
So does Afroman think it's morally acceptable to steer kids away from drugs and into exams where they'll cheat? He's already told us that he was confident his deception would have paid off, had he chosen to sit the exam. Maybe he thinks that lying your way into a better "status of life" is better than being an honest, drug-taking loser? Come on, Afroman - SORT YOUR LIFE OUT!
Ahem.
Secondly, "under false pretences".
Not a week goes by without me reading or hearing some sordid tale of people obtaining money or goods "under false pretences" (that's 'pretenses' if you're in the US )
What the fuck are false pretences exactly? It's the act of pretending itself that's "false", surely? Using the phrase "false pretences" creates a double negative, meaning that the money/goods/drugs/toys have been obtained truthfully and legally.
Maybe I should be a lawyer, I'd be getting people off the hook no problem.
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 lanugage and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
So it's not like I've been listening to a lot of Queen lately, but someone over the other side of the office has Virgin internet radio on during the day, and Queen tracks get fairly regular playings. It seems to me like there are gaps in the logic of the lyrics with some of their tracks. Ones I've noticed recently:
"It's a kind of magic" Kind of? It's either magic or it's not, Freddie, don't be vague about it! Either you're in league with Satan, performing feats that defy the established laws of physics... or it's just a trick. In fact, "It's a kind of trick" would have worked much better, AND they could have used it for the theme tune to New Tricks instead of getting Waterman to sing one of his songs.
"I want to break free of your lies, you're so self-satisfied, I don't need you" I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume Freddie's singing about a bloke (not that it matters). The lying part, I can understand. No-one needs that. But if Freddie's putting together a laundry-list of complaints to fire at the guy in question before he dumps him, surely "self satisfied" can't be that high up, can it? He's pissed off because his boyfriend's quite a happy bloke who's comfortable with what he's achieved and who he is? Seems a little unnecessary coming from a millionaire pop-star, doesn't it? Unless he just means the guy's a smug bastard, of course. But even so, he should have known that when he met him...
"I'm flying through the sky, yeah. Two hundred degrees that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit..." This one's a puzzler. a) Exactly WHO calls him Mister Fahrenheit? b) Assuming these people exist, exactly WHY do they call him that? The line in the song doesn't explain it as well as Freddie seems to think. I had a great thought that maybe something important happens at 200º Fahrenheit? Maybe that's the temperature that Mercury boils at? Wouldn't that be a fucking great reference to put in a song? It's not though. Mercury boils at 674.6ºF (357ºC), so that's out. I'm also assuming he means degrees of temperature? If in front of you is 0º, straight up is 90º and behind you is 180º, then 200º would be somewhere down in the ground, so he's obviously not flying at an angle. Freddie Fahrenheit would, of course, be a fantastic name, especially if you were a weather presenter. Whereas Cecil Celsius doesn't sound quite as rock'n'roll.
Answers on a postcard please...
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.
