CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
No, not Newcastle Brown (although that IS on my mind at the moment), I'm talking about being unique. About being a lone point of light in the darkness. A little melodramatic, but you'll see what I mean.
I overheard someone's iPod on the bus yesterday. They were listening to Wonderwall by Oasis. It wasn't a problem; I like the song (although I could hardly hear it 'properly'), and it was only because the battery had died in my generic MP3 player that I wasn't subjecting other passengers to my own taste in music. Anyway, it occurred to me that I haven't listened to the song properly in ages. Which is to say, I haven't played it myself, or sat through it in its entireity on the radio etc.
But it's a very popular song. VERY popular. As of September '08, There are an estimated 6.72 billion people on this planet. While they haven't all got iPods, I'd say it's a fairly safe bet that at any given point, there will be someone in the world listening to Wonderwall. If it's not being played in someone's living room, it'll be on someone's iPod, or being played on a radio station, or even just being covered by a band in a pub somewhere or a busker on the street. The song, it would appear, is a constant.
This won't last forever, of course. Sooner or later it'll drop out of fashion, and ultimately be forgotten by all but a few historians. But for the forseeable future, it's with us.
Which got me thinking about the probability of other songs falling into the same category. Surely, out of 6.72 billion people, 'someone' is listening to Chain Reaction by Diana Ross? Or what about Fade to Black by Metallica?
Let's scale it down a bit (no offence to the following artistes). What about You Can Talk to Me by The Seahorses? Or Birdhouse in Your Soul by They Might Be Giants? The Stutter Rap by Morris Minor and The Majors? Maybe even Superstitious by Europe? I listened to that one myself on the way to work this morning.
No matter how obscure the song, would you really put money on no-one out of 6.72 billion people playing or singing it at that moment in time? It'd be a long-shot wouldn't it?
...what about the song from the start of Pigeon Street?
It was fairly popular back in the early 80's with the pre-school crowd, but I can't remember the last time I saw an episode on TV (although bizarrely, Keith Miller was watching it on Eastenders a couple of years ago, so who knows).
While I'm sure it gets regular-ish outings on obscure TV stations, and VHS players on a drunken whim, and even YouTube clips... I can't believe that the opening titles to Pigeon Street are being CONSTANTLY played somewhere around the planet.
Which brings me (finally) to my point. When you sing the immortal lines:
If you lived, in Pigeon Street, Here are the people, you could meet. Here are the people who would say, Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye, Every day...
...there's a STRONG possibility that you're the only person in the world giving voice to Pigeon Street. Not every time, but most, for sure. Think about that. No, really.
Unless you make your own clothes, someone else will be wearing the same colours and even items of clothing today. Again, chances are someone will be wearing the same combination as you. You think you're the only one with that haircut? Is that tattoo of yours truly unique?
Make your mark on the world today. Be the one and only. Sing the song to Pigeon Street.
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.
Pfff, six weeks. About half way I reckon, maybe just under? Being sober for this long has been the most boring part of my life to date. Not that I haven't enjoyed it, like, but I can't say that it's added anything to my life that wasn't already there.
It was my better-half's birthday last week. She went out with some friends for a few jars after work, and while I was allowed to drink, I just didn't fancy a night out. So, we ended up destroying several bottles of wine on Saturday night. I felt it kick in almost immediately.
I didn't get smashed, but I felt myself getting louder and sillier. As predicted, I also felt a... relaxation I'd been missing. But that said, it was still just a few glasses of wine with the in-laws, round at our place. No biggie, just a welcome break in the proceedings. I also slept late as usual on Sunday, so no trace of a hangover when I finally got up.
As I write this it's over a week later and I'm back to "not actually missing it that much". I'd still fucking love a bottle of Brown, but it's not on my mind all the time.
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In other news, I've set up my Twitter account, and set up a new MySpace for me (as opposed to the band). Both of which social-networking ventures strike even me as unusual as I'm the most anti-social person I know. And no, I'm not self-centered enough to think that people care what kind of sandwich I'm having for lunch, it's more for me stalking celebrities etc, and for the promotion of...
Oh Yes! The boys from Denton are back! Bowling For Soup's new single, My Wena, precedes their album Sorry for Partyin', due out late September. I snagged a couple of VIP tickets for their show in Margate in October, which will be the seventh time I've seen 'em live.
If you haven't heard any Soup past Girl All The Bad Guys Want, I heartily recommend you pick up any album that's in the store. I find them all equally accessible, and while it's true that they've "got their own sound", I enjoy all of their stuff without it feeling repetitive (...last Oasis album anyone?).
Between the current flurry of BFS activity, and all of the Clone Wars news coming out of San Diego Comic-Con, the internet's keeping me fairly busy at the moment.
Too busy to miss beer? Who knows...
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.
Well, I thought i'd combine weeks three and four so that there's at least one less post with me whining about wanting beer. Besides, not a lot really happened last week, as I'm so busy with work I almost don't have time to get blisteringly drunk. Not that I don't want to.
So, I'm now four weeks into this self-imposed exile, and I would willingly sell my left leg for a bottle of Chardonnay. Which I'll admit is bizarre as I'm actually choosing to abstain, and technically I could drink whenever I like.
It's not that I'm itching to get drunk as such, it's more that I'm just so bored of being sober. Me and my better half popped down to Exeter last Sunday to catch up with my sister. So we walked around the town centre for a bit, then went into a Wetherspoons for something to eat. So there's me on diet Pepsi, my sister on J2O (as she's expecting a wee-one), and our lass went for the Brown. Even then I wasn't that tempted to cave in and have a pint, especially when I looked around the pub at the slurring, giggling dickheads. (Note: I'm not condemning all people who drink as those dickheads, or even all W'Spoon customers, it just happened to be full of the kind of people that give daytime drinking a bad name). I'm not itching to break the fast, just for the fast to be over.
It's my lass's birthday next Friday, so I get to have share a bottle of fizz or some-such with her. I'm looking forward to that, mainly because it'll feel like the first time in a month I've actually relaxed. Another dry week to get through first though, and I may well end up killing someone at work in that time. What's the deal with smuggling alcohol into prisons these days? I know they say drug-use is still a problem, but I'd imaging a few grams of coke would be easier to get past security than three litres of Jack. I seem to recall Lizzie on Prisoner: Cell Block H used to be able to get her grog okay, but I daresay the methods of smuggling alcohol into a women's prison in 1970's Australia are somewhat different from those at Parkhurst.
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In other news, Oxford City Council have made me laugh out loud at work this week, as I read the following story:
http://snipurl.com/mnwaf
"Suicides prompt closure of Oxford car park's top storey
Three people have died in the past 18 months after going to the sixth floor of the 100ft car park at the Templars Square shopping centre, in Cowley. Barriers are now being installed to stop people walking or driving to the top storey, while there is also a sign advising anyone feeling depressed or suicidal to contact the Samaritans charity."
That sounds like a sensible idea, doesn't it? It's obviously distressing for people working and living around there, and if you can maybe stop someone from taking their own life just that one time, it may well be enough to delay it until they can seek help/guidance? It's not foolproof of course (they may well just decide to jump off the fifth floor), but the intention is there. I wonder where they've put the sign up?
OH LOOK! It's on the wall of the top level. The wall that someone will have had to climb over a barrier to get to. I think that after all that effort, they might just jump anyway.
These thoughts occurred to my cynical mind, but weren't the part that made me physically laugh out loud. The preemptive strike at people moaning about the shortage of parking spaces did though:
"However, these barriers will be removed at the busier trading times of the year, such as Christmas."
...words fail me. They obviously haven't had a conversation with the Samaritans that lasted long enough for them to be told that Christmas is one of their busier times, and not so much the height of summer. Still, if the suicidal community of Oxford would like to wait until December, maybe they could all go up to Level-6 together, hold a carol service on the ledge, then all leap off together singing the final line "...and a partridge in a pear tr-..."
I should point out that the venom of the last statement was directed at the fucking genii who thought up this life-saving plan, not those unfortunate enough to find themselves staring at the shoppers of Cowley from a great height, and don't have to worry about the choice between the stairs and the lift going back down...
And on that cheery note, I'm off to play Battlefront: Renegade Squadron with my nephew for several hours, so there will be carnage, even if it's not alcohol based.
A bottle of Brown, or an Imperial-issue Flechette rifle. Either/or, really...
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.
WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS
TRANSFORMERS: Revenge of the Fallen 2009, 150mins, Dir. Michael Bay
Put Simply: Robots beat the shit out of each other for two and a half hours. What's not to love? Stars: Shia LaBeouf, Megan Fox, John Turturro.
Yeah, I know you don't really need me reviewing Transformers2 to decide if you want to see it or not. That decision will have already been made when you saw the trailer. If you saw the first movie, you know exactly what to expect. If you saw the trailer for the second one... you know exactly what to expect: things getting blown up for an extended period of time with no 'real' plot.
That's not to malign the plot of Revenge of the Fallen, I think it works just fine for the movie, but a lot of reviewers have seemingly had some gripe about it being a wafer-thin excuse to show robots fighting. And? Didn't you see the first one? If you forgave the narrative in favour of the effects in the first movie, you can hardly expect the sequel to be fucking Pride and Prejudice, can you?
Anyway, let's get the obvious one out of the way first, shall we? Megan Fox. I don't really get what all the fuss is about. I mean, she's very pretty, and incredibly fit, but in a kind of... dull way. Her personality doesn't seem to shine through in these movies (haven't seen her in anything else), and she delivers a lot of her lines in a clunky, uncomfortable manner. I think the other thing that makes me look blankly at her is she reminds me too much of Stacey from Eastenders. For those not familiar with Stacey, her character arc is basically to act nice, act like a scheming arsehole, go mental, then try and act nice again. Not a lot of 'nice' time. Puts you off liking the character. And sadly, when Megan under-acts the way she does, I just see a thinner, prettier version of Stacey. Don't believe me?
Oh, and that's the other thing, check out Megan Fox's thumbs. Crikey.
ANYWAY, back to the movie; it does exactly what it says on the trailer. It's one-part exposition, one-part talky quiet scenes, and five-parts smashing the fuck out of everything. In this respect, it's an absolute winner! And while I liked the humour again, I could have done without Sam's parents turning up every half-hour and shouting. They didn't seem to have a lot to do in this movie, but I figure Michael Bay had to justify their contracts? Other than that, Shia LaBeouf, John Turturro and Josh Duhamel are as good (or bad, or adequate, delete as necessary) as last time round, and it was nice to have a relatively linear plot this time. That sub-plot with the hackers in the first movie seemed a bit tacked-on to me, as entertaining as it was.
What really had me geeking out wasn't the mish-mashing of existing Transformers history, but the Indiana Jones references. If you recall, Indy 4 came out the year after the first TF film, during Shia's rise to A-List status. It's hard to say which role has raised his profile more, and there are several references to his Mutt Williams character.
The college that Sam Witwicky moves to in TF2 looks suspicously like Marshall College from the Indy movies. Of course, this is probably a pretty generic design for the American architecture of educational establishments, but there's also a reference to the Marcus Brody statue that served in memory of Denholm Elliot:
(Apologies for the shitty screnshots by the way, I got them from the internets. I do not condone shitty cam-jobs for ANY movie, but especially for a movie as awesome as Transformers.)
While the above is a pretty obvious reference for geeks like me, the next two were a little more subtle. There's a scene where Sam's got his black leather jacket and white t-shirt on, and uses a massive knife (for some reason) to carve glyphs into the earth. Reminded me very much of Mutt's blade fixation:
And again in the 'bottle house' when Sam and Mikaela are hiding from the Decepticons. Sam finds (again, for some reason) a saber blocking a hole in the wall. I guess the Egyptian villagers had run out of Polyfilla? Whatever the reason, it reminded me once again of Mutt Williams.
One question: I've got no problem with the Transformers speaking English, with their electronic brains it'd be easy enough to pick up and translate for their dealings with the humans, but why do they have such varying accents? When they break into the Smithsonian Air Museum and break out JetFire, it turns out he's got a Brummie accent. Did he have this when he was speaking Cybertronian? By the time we meet him in the film he's a fairly light-hearted character (best quote: "Bollocks!"), but he's meant to be an ex-Decepticon. Watching him in action would be like watching Timothy Spall fly into a rage wrapped in tin-foil.
One problem: I'd heard that Jazz was going to be back, and he was going to be the white Porsche 935 like in the old days. We got neither! :(
Other than those observations, there's not much more to be said about the film. It's probably a little long, but had it been shorter I'd only be wishing for an extended DVD version. Fuck it, I'd watch an extended version anyway :p
Nice little references to Gremlins and the Vader/Emperor dynamic make this a two-and-a-half-hour geek fest, but if you're not that way inclined, you can just watch things being blown up in an extended toy-advert ;)
I reckon: 8/10.
See this in the cinema, because it'll lose a lot of impact in the transition to your TV. Unless you're my best-mate's mum, who has a 50" plasma in a 54" room.
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.
Does anyone else think that Josef Fritzl and Joseph Jackson look a bit the same?
I mean, not identical, obviously, but y'know; the sweeping hairline... the puffy-yet-drawn features, the low-slung 'tache... the propensity for making the lives of their children a fucking misery?
I'm not for one moment suggesting that the patriarch of the Jackson musical empire had another, secret mini-Jackson, which he kept in a cellar and sexually abused on a regular basis, raising some of the offspring and butchering the rest...
I'm also not implying that Fritzl Snr formed a full musical act from his inbred, bastard children, and got them to put on shows every night in the cellar to entertain the little ones that had too many fingers to master an instrument...
And for the record, I'm absolutely in no way insinuating that in Fritzl's down-time, spent away from his secret, subterranean family, he maybe used to travel to the US, black himself up, and manage one of the most successful Motown acts of the 1970's. Because that would be wrong. Well, maybe not as bad as being a tyrannical 'manager', refusing to be called father by your own children, and beating them before they go on-stage. And definitely not as bad as imprisoning, abusing and killing those children. But blacking-up would still be in very poor taste, and I'm sure that neither of the Joes in question would have anything to do with it.
~ ~ ~
Bizarrely, I think the idea of The Fritzl-5 sounds like a great idea. They'd probably be like a crossover of The Sound of Music and the video for Thriller
Whereas on the other hand, the idea of the Jackson children being lorded over by an oppressive father, moulding them into a form he wants, and treating them as objects rather than children just sounds a bit- oh, hang on...
~ ~ ~
All I'm saying is, I think the look a bit the same, and I'd be very wary of letting either of them into my house. Although to be fair, I don't have four brothers, and I don't have a cellar; so I should be safe..?
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.
