Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Took this in the forest walk while down at the beach at Dirleston on Sunday. The forest is coming back to life after the winter - the difference even from two or three weeks ago is striking. This huge, gnarled old tree was in a small clearing all by itself in the middle of the forest, with the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the canopy, with only the crunch of twigs underfoot and birdsong for noise.
Peace in Iraq
Or perhaps that should be Fuck Up in Fallujah? At last the US have finally worked out a properly detailed plan for controlling Iraq and pacifying the 'liberated' population: bomb the hell out of everything and everyone. Once they're all dead there won't be any more pesky insurgents. Shame about all the civilians, but hey, omlettes and eggs as they say (although personally my omlettes tend to be yummy breakfast food which in no way entail the mass slaughter of civilians). Apparently they go the idea after reading a classic Judge Death story in Judge Dredd - all crime committed byt he living, therefore life is forfeit from all...
Meanwhile Blair has publically backed the US forces 'strategy'. What strategy? Getting shafted by having no plan for post-war Iraq? Getting involved in somethign they never should have been in the first place? This from the man who was savaged by many, including his own party, for backing Bush and Israel's plans last week. Just before that lead to a horrendous mess and government sponsored assissnation. But here he goes again. And the good part is that he says now he will be staying on and running for PM once more. 'Not for turning' 'On and on and on' the unflinching backing of right-wing American politicians who destablise the world - is it just me or is Blair turning into Margaret Thatcher? Is this some political equivelant to Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde?
Or perhaps that should be Fuck Up in Fallujah? At last the US have finally worked out a properly detailed plan for controlling Iraq and pacifying the 'liberated' population: bomb the hell out of everything and everyone. Once they're all dead there won't be any more pesky insurgents. Shame about all the civilians, but hey, omlettes and eggs as they say (although personally my omlettes tend to be yummy breakfast food which in no way entail the mass slaughter of civilians). Apparently they go the idea after reading a classic Judge Death story in Judge Dredd - all crime committed byt he living, therefore life is forfeit from all...
Meanwhile Blair has publically backed the US forces 'strategy'. What strategy? Getting shafted by having no plan for post-war Iraq? Getting involved in somethign they never should have been in the first place? This from the man who was savaged by many, including his own party, for backing Bush and Israel's plans last week. Just before that lead to a horrendous mess and government sponsored assissnation. But here he goes again. And the good part is that he says now he will be staying on and running for PM once more. 'Not for turning' 'On and on and on' the unflinching backing of right-wing American politicians who destablise the world - is it just me or is Blair turning into Margaret Thatcher? Is this some political equivelant to Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde?
Sunday, April 25, 2004
"Who's this, then?"
A story that was both hilariously funny and sickening at the same time. The owner of the Express newspapers, a Mister Desmond (a former porno merchant) was in talks with the owners of the equally right wing Telegraph. Which is in the midst of a takeover by a German company. So the Express board greet them with sieg hiels and guten morgens. Then Desmond starts goose-stepping around the room making Nazi salutes with his finger under his nose a la Basil Fawlty in Fawlty Towers classic episode "the Germans". Except Cleese was funny when he did it, mixing his classic Python silly walk to a biting comment on the Little Englander xenophobia inherint in all too many small-minded twats in the UK. Then he starts flinging personal abuse at the Telegraph CEO before challening him to step outside (why didn't he? I'd have beat the crap out of him myself). Oh, and the kicker is that Desmond's bid for the Express was bankrolled by a merchant bank based in Frankfurt. So a racist, xenophobe and a hypocrite then.
A story that was both hilariously funny and sickening at the same time. The owner of the Express newspapers, a Mister Desmond (a former porno merchant) was in talks with the owners of the equally right wing Telegraph. Which is in the midst of a takeover by a German company. So the Express board greet them with sieg hiels and guten morgens. Then Desmond starts goose-stepping around the room making Nazi salutes with his finger under his nose a la Basil Fawlty in Fawlty Towers classic episode "the Germans". Except Cleese was funny when he did it, mixing his classic Python silly walk to a biting comment on the Little Englander xenophobia inherint in all too many small-minded twats in the UK. Then he starts flinging personal abuse at the Telegraph CEO before challening him to step outside (why didn't he? I'd have beat the crap out of him myself). Oh, and the kicker is that Desmond's bid for the Express was bankrolled by a merchant bank based in Frankfurt. So a racist, xenophobe and a hypocrite then.
What he is saying is...
The new artwork on display outside Saint John's church on Princes Street. Perhaps not as satirical as some of the other work, but timely and, I reckon, a heartfelt message. I guess what he is saying is give peace a chance. Mind you, the next verse of Matthew states "Tarry not in the time of spring or you will not complete your uni projects." Matthew, C27, V3-8 (verse 9-12 are on the way, can I have an extension please, Mister Lecturer. My cyberdog ate my homework)
The new artwork on display outside Saint John's church on Princes Street. Perhaps not as satirical as some of the other work, but timely and, I reckon, a heartfelt message. I guess what he is saying is give peace a chance. Mind you, the next verse of Matthew states "Tarry not in the time of spring or you will not complete your uni projects." Matthew, C27, V3-8 (verse 9-12 are on the way, can I have an extension please, Mister Lecturer. My cyberdog ate my homework)
Life’s a beach
And since it was very sunny and warm again I joined Gordon who was taking his dog Bruce for a walk down the beach at Dirleston. Understandably it was pretty busy as this was one of the first proper days of summer. We had a relaxing walk through the woods near the sea. We went through them just a couple of weeks ago (when I posted the stormy pictures below). The forest was dead and still except for the cawing of crows. Now, only two weeks later and it is bursting into life once more as the wheel turns round. Much as I love the simple, skeletal elegance of winter trees, there is something quite magical about watching them return to life in the spring. Green is absolutely everywhere - a hundred shades of green, from lime and opaline to deep emerald. If the Inuits have a hundred words for snow the people of our rainy Isles must have a hundred for the green of leaves. Funny how something as simple as the changing of the seasons can be so magical and enchanting.
The beach which stretches all the way round to North Berwick is a wonderfully wide stretch of golden sand. The sea was clear and the offshore breeze kept things from becoming uncomfortable. A gentle buzzing was heard and a small micro light flew over us just a couple of hundred feet up, moving almost lazily. A few minutes later we heard a light aircraft flying down the coast. As it got closer we realised it was an old biplane! How cool!!! As I watched the pilot let of smoke a few times as if practising for an air show. Then suddenly the plane went into a vertical climb. Now you can only do this for a short space of time with a piston engine before gravity starves it fuel and it stalls. The only reason to do this manoeuvre is if you are planning to do an Immelman. Named after the WWI flying ace this was an extreme early combat move where the pilot surges up vertically at 90 degrees then loops right over on itself before the stall. It practically falls over on its axis - it’s very dangerous and pretty damned spectacular. Heading back to the car a few hours later and we found a gleaming Jaguar Mk. II, lovingly restored, Inspector Morse special - effortlessly cool.
All of this and we had ice cream too! Ice cream from Equi’s, one of the best Italian ice-cream maker’s in the whole of Scotland. Yummy. Life can often be crummy, but there’s always a yummy ice cream cone on the beach…
And since it was very sunny and warm again I joined Gordon who was taking his dog Bruce for a walk down the beach at Dirleston. Understandably it was pretty busy as this was one of the first proper days of summer. We had a relaxing walk through the woods near the sea. We went through them just a couple of weeks ago (when I posted the stormy pictures below). The forest was dead and still except for the cawing of crows. Now, only two weeks later and it is bursting into life once more as the wheel turns round. Much as I love the simple, skeletal elegance of winter trees, there is something quite magical about watching them return to life in the spring. Green is absolutely everywhere - a hundred shades of green, from lime and opaline to deep emerald. If the Inuits have a hundred words for snow the people of our rainy Isles must have a hundred for the green of leaves. Funny how something as simple as the changing of the seasons can be so magical and enchanting.
The beach which stretches all the way round to North Berwick is a wonderfully wide stretch of golden sand. The sea was clear and the offshore breeze kept things from becoming uncomfortable. A gentle buzzing was heard and a small micro light flew over us just a couple of hundred feet up, moving almost lazily. A few minutes later we heard a light aircraft flying down the coast. As it got closer we realised it was an old biplane! How cool!!! As I watched the pilot let of smoke a few times as if practising for an air show. Then suddenly the plane went into a vertical climb. Now you can only do this for a short space of time with a piston engine before gravity starves it fuel and it stalls. The only reason to do this manoeuvre is if you are planning to do an Immelman. Named after the WWI flying ace this was an extreme early combat move where the pilot surges up vertically at 90 degrees then loops right over on itself before the stall. It practically falls over on its axis - it’s very dangerous and pretty damned spectacular. Heading back to the car a few hours later and we found a gleaming Jaguar Mk. II, lovingly restored, Inspector Morse special - effortlessly cool.
All of this and we had ice cream too! Ice cream from Equi’s, one of the best Italian ice-cream maker’s in the whole of Scotland. Yummy. Life can often be crummy, but there’s always a yummy ice cream cone on the beach…
Follow the beer-stained road
It’s been a long week, not helped by having to do a full weekend shift last weekend, Saturday this weekend and a full one next smegging weekend plus several late shifts. And remember, boys and girls we don’t get paid extra to work these hours, so think on that next time you’re late-night or weekend shopping. Waterstone’s, helping to wipe the smile from a bookseller’s face.
So when I finished last night I put on my shades and toddled off round the corner to the Guildford Arms to meet my mate Gordon. Ah, beer, eases the pain… A pint of Bitter and Twisted because I am; because it’s good and full bodied; because so am I. Gorgeous spring evening - not the first sunny day we’ve had, but now it is also warm. So we decided it was time to take care of one of our ancient Celtic customs in Edinburgh and headed up over the Bridges towards the University - with a brief stopover at the excellent Piemaker for a Moroccan Veggie (rice, vegetables, spices, half a pound of hashish, a young Moroccan boy, a typewriter and the complete works of William Burroughs) - and, braving all the bloody south-of-England yahs (posh inbred twats basically) we arrive at the Pear Tree, which hasn’t actually had a tree for sometime now (it did when I first started going there a long time ago in my student days). What it does still have thought is a bloody huge beer garden, so it was time for some outdoor beer al-fresco. As you can see from the picture it was bloody busy as it normally is when the sun comes out.
After that we plotted an erratic course back home via a number of hostelries that we hadn’t been in for a while. We avoided Greyfriar’s since it was mobbed and headed down into the Grassmarket behind the Castle, thinking we’d get a beer there before it gets later into the summer and it is too choc full of tourists to enjoy. We ended up in the Last Drop, so named because it’s the inn opposite where many a vagabond danced on air on the end of hemp rope, usually before a cheering crowd. Next door is another gallows related pub called Maggie Dickson’s, named for that lady who was hung but didn’t die and was released, although she was forever known afterwards as Half-hangit Maggie.
Walking up West Port we saw what had been Christie’s was now reopened as a new bar, but again it was mobbed so we walked past. Christie’s used to have a tiny basement bar attached called The Comic Den; all painted over with comics characters. We went into the Old Fire Station, which used to be Braidwood’s Fire Station when I was a student and was a huge student favourite, complete with stuffed foxes in old firemen’s costumes. It still looked the same, but the students had all gone to be replaced by what can only be described as members of the lads brigade, complete with ugly slappers in tow. Loud, pissed already, yelling, shouting, smashing glasses… My, this place has gone upmarket… You know you are in a quality establishment when the condom machine also vends inflatable sheep and pocket vibrators. Classy.
Went on to Tollcross and into Cloisters, a lovely wee stone pub and one of my former locals - one of my best student flats was right round the corner and we could see the back of the pub from our kitchen, along with the back of our local Indian, which gave me a warm feeling inside. We had a couple of very nice pints of Kane’s Amber Ale and felt a little better at no longer being the oldest people in the pub, as we were in the Pear Tree. Things start to get hazy around now. I recall leaving Cloisters, visiting what had been my old local chippy - which has changed hands and is now, unusually, run by an Asian family - for some greasy sustenance. I don’t remember much of the long walk along Home Street but eventually we reached my local pub, my beloved Caley Sample Room and had a couple more to finish off the night. And so all the way home from work (well, six hours after finishing) via a circular route, navigating as we used to in the old days by pub. Who needs a compass when you have pubs to guide you? Some were haunts of mine in a former life and are still fun, others now altered and no longer welcoming. Plus ca change. Some pubs come and some pubs go, but liver damage is forever.
It’s been a long week, not helped by having to do a full weekend shift last weekend, Saturday this weekend and a full one next smegging weekend plus several late shifts. And remember, boys and girls we don’t get paid extra to work these hours, so think on that next time you’re late-night or weekend shopping. Waterstone’s, helping to wipe the smile from a bookseller’s face.
So when I finished last night I put on my shades and toddled off round the corner to the Guildford Arms to meet my mate Gordon. Ah, beer, eases the pain… A pint of Bitter and Twisted because I am; because it’s good and full bodied; because so am I. Gorgeous spring evening - not the first sunny day we’ve had, but now it is also warm. So we decided it was time to take care of one of our ancient Celtic customs in Edinburgh and headed up over the Bridges towards the University - with a brief stopover at the excellent Piemaker for a Moroccan Veggie (rice, vegetables, spices, half a pound of hashish, a young Moroccan boy, a typewriter and the complete works of William Burroughs) - and, braving all the bloody south-of-England yahs (posh inbred twats basically) we arrive at the Pear Tree, which hasn’t actually had a tree for sometime now (it did when I first started going there a long time ago in my student days). What it does still have thought is a bloody huge beer garden, so it was time for some outdoor beer al-fresco. As you can see from the picture it was bloody busy as it normally is when the sun comes out.
After that we plotted an erratic course back home via a number of hostelries that we hadn’t been in for a while. We avoided Greyfriar’s since it was mobbed and headed down into the Grassmarket behind the Castle, thinking we’d get a beer there before it gets later into the summer and it is too choc full of tourists to enjoy. We ended up in the Last Drop, so named because it’s the inn opposite where many a vagabond danced on air on the end of hemp rope, usually before a cheering crowd. Next door is another gallows related pub called Maggie Dickson’s, named for that lady who was hung but didn’t die and was released, although she was forever known afterwards as Half-hangit Maggie.
Walking up West Port we saw what had been Christie’s was now reopened as a new bar, but again it was mobbed so we walked past. Christie’s used to have a tiny basement bar attached called The Comic Den; all painted over with comics characters. We went into the Old Fire Station, which used to be Braidwood’s Fire Station when I was a student and was a huge student favourite, complete with stuffed foxes in old firemen’s costumes. It still looked the same, but the students had all gone to be replaced by what can only be described as members of the lads brigade, complete with ugly slappers in tow. Loud, pissed already, yelling, shouting, smashing glasses… My, this place has gone upmarket… You know you are in a quality establishment when the condom machine also vends inflatable sheep and pocket vibrators. Classy.
Went on to Tollcross and into Cloisters, a lovely wee stone pub and one of my former locals - one of my best student flats was right round the corner and we could see the back of the pub from our kitchen, along with the back of our local Indian, which gave me a warm feeling inside. We had a couple of very nice pints of Kane’s Amber Ale and felt a little better at no longer being the oldest people in the pub, as we were in the Pear Tree. Things start to get hazy around now. I recall leaving Cloisters, visiting what had been my old local chippy - which has changed hands and is now, unusually, run by an Asian family - for some greasy sustenance. I don’t remember much of the long walk along Home Street but eventually we reached my local pub, my beloved Caley Sample Room and had a couple more to finish off the night. And so all the way home from work (well, six hours after finishing) via a circular route, navigating as we used to in the old days by pub. Who needs a compass when you have pubs to guide you? Some were haunts of mine in a former life and are still fun, others now altered and no longer welcoming. Plus ca change. Some pubs come and some pubs go, but liver damage is forever.
Friday, April 23, 2004
Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living. Anais Nin (especially for my dear chum SweetRouge, she of the many-sided orgasms)
Shaken, not speared
April 23rd - the anniversary of William Shakespeare's death. His deathday if you will. You know, if there is an afterlife for us all, birthdays would be pretty irrelevant, wouldn't they? So we'd probably get together on the Other Side with our deceased beloveds and departed chums to celebrate our deathday.
Happy deathday to you
Happy deathday to you
You're buried in the village church
Very near the pew.
I would just like to point out that today is my unbirthday. It is also my undeathday too. Hopefully.
"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep..." Prospero, the Tempest
Always liked this scene and am also rather fond of the way in which Neil Gaiman reworked not only it's eloquent lines but it's themes into one of the final Sandman tales in The Wake.
And another quote from the Tempest especially for our Alien editor:
"Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;
But yet thou shalt have freedom.
So, so, so."
April 23rd - the anniversary of William Shakespeare's death. His deathday if you will. You know, if there is an afterlife for us all, birthdays would be pretty irrelevant, wouldn't they? So we'd probably get together on the Other Side with our deceased beloveds and departed chums to celebrate our deathday.
Happy deathday to you
Happy deathday to you
You're buried in the village church
Very near the pew.
I would just like to point out that today is my unbirthday. It is also my undeathday too. Hopefully.
"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep..." Prospero, the Tempest
Always liked this scene and am also rather fond of the way in which Neil Gaiman reworked not only it's eloquent lines but it's themes into one of the final Sandman tales in The Wake.
And another quote from the Tempest especially for our Alien editor:
"Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;
But yet thou shalt have freedom.
So, so, so."
That's all for you!
As Hellboy would say. Can't think what possessed Ariel to send this link to me, or how he go the impression I was a fan of Mike Mignola's big red dude. Some people think just because you've written half a dozen reviews praising the books that perhaps it means you like them or something :-). Heh. Anum an rama. Beware the Ogrud Jahad. HB is cool. Abe is groovy. Liz Sherman is a hottie (and there's a joke you won't ge tunless you are really into Hellboy).
As Hellboy would say. Can't think what possessed Ariel to send this link to me, or how he go the impression I was a fan of Mike Mignola's big red dude. Some people think just because you've written half a dozen reviews praising the books that perhaps it means you like them or something :-). Heh. Anum an rama. Beware the Ogrud Jahad. HB is cool. Abe is groovy. Liz Sherman is a hottie (and there's a joke you won't ge tunless you are really into Hellboy).
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Hypodermic
Reading my fellow TAO crewmember Vegar's blog for once I found I had to disagree with him - only a little however, since muhc of what he said (as usual) was well thought out. However I have to disagree with his assertion that watching TV is a simple and passive experience. While I agree it can be (and we all enjoy the occassional vegging period, don't we?) most mass media (and I think he was worried about them all from the tone of his article) are not passive. Back in the 1940s and early 1950s media academics were of this opinion that the masses were all an amorphous jelly, passively receiving whatever was pushed into their vacant minds. This was referred to in Communication Studies (my degree area) as the Hypodermic Needle Model.
In many ways it draws on the 19th century Arnoldian viewpoint of 'high' and 'low' culture which was dreadfully class-biased, not to mention simplistic and flawed. It's a form of artistic criticism and judgement which still haunts us today, not least int he way the literati look down upon genre fiction for instance.
There was a big problem with this very simple viewpoint. It was nonsense. Any kind of text - TV, multimedia, movie, book, advert - is interpreted by the individual according to their own unique experiences, tastes and inclinations. For example, many feminist media academics used to (and indeed still do) lecture on the inherint mysoginy of modern horror films. However, others, such as Carol Clover, author of the excellent study Men, Women and Chainsaws (and a talking head on the recent BBC American Nightmare documentary) have argued for a contrary reading of the texts which sees some horrors as progressive, feminist texts which actually empower women. Let's take Xena. It can be taken as simple fairy tale action with sexy eye candy for the guys. But a lot of women viewers, straight and gay, young and old, interpret this very differently. And how often do you watch a programme which sparks ideas of in your own head? A fair proportion of my blogs have been about or inspired by thoughts generated from what I had been watching. listening to or reading.
Modern cognitive psychology and communication studies have ascertained that people are not simple, passive receivers. And despite the fact an author of a book, film etc may try to give their text a particular spin - what is referred to as the preferred encoding - it is quite beyond their power how the audience members will decode this text. Abberant or contrary readings of even the most mainstream texts are quite commonplace.
All of this academic, beard-stroking, cordurouy wearing, paradigm-quoting nonsense out of the way I do have to say I agree with Vegar that quality does seem to be slipping a lot in modern programming as terrestrial channels such as Channel 4 who were once very good try to compete with the multiple channel digital satellite monsters. Then again, there is always someone harping back to an earlier, golden era. I've done it myself. SOmetimes we may have a point. Sometimes it's an inevitable sign of aging. Ah, back when I were a lad......
Reading my fellow TAO crewmember Vegar's blog for once I found I had to disagree with him - only a little however, since muhc of what he said (as usual) was well thought out. However I have to disagree with his assertion that watching TV is a simple and passive experience. While I agree it can be (and we all enjoy the occassional vegging period, don't we?) most mass media (and I think he was worried about them all from the tone of his article) are not passive. Back in the 1940s and early 1950s media academics were of this opinion that the masses were all an amorphous jelly, passively receiving whatever was pushed into their vacant minds. This was referred to in Communication Studies (my degree area) as the Hypodermic Needle Model.
In many ways it draws on the 19th century Arnoldian viewpoint of 'high' and 'low' culture which was dreadfully class-biased, not to mention simplistic and flawed. It's a form of artistic criticism and judgement which still haunts us today, not least int he way the literati look down upon genre fiction for instance.
There was a big problem with this very simple viewpoint. It was nonsense. Any kind of text - TV, multimedia, movie, book, advert - is interpreted by the individual according to their own unique experiences, tastes and inclinations. For example, many feminist media academics used to (and indeed still do) lecture on the inherint mysoginy of modern horror films. However, others, such as Carol Clover, author of the excellent study Men, Women and Chainsaws (and a talking head on the recent BBC American Nightmare documentary) have argued for a contrary reading of the texts which sees some horrors as progressive, feminist texts which actually empower women. Let's take Xena. It can be taken as simple fairy tale action with sexy eye candy for the guys. But a lot of women viewers, straight and gay, young and old, interpret this very differently. And how often do you watch a programme which sparks ideas of in your own head? A fair proportion of my blogs have been about or inspired by thoughts generated from what I had been watching. listening to or reading.
Modern cognitive psychology and communication studies have ascertained that people are not simple, passive receivers. And despite the fact an author of a book, film etc may try to give their text a particular spin - what is referred to as the preferred encoding - it is quite beyond their power how the audience members will decode this text. Abberant or contrary readings of even the most mainstream texts are quite commonplace.
All of this academic, beard-stroking, cordurouy wearing, paradigm-quoting nonsense out of the way I do have to say I agree with Vegar that quality does seem to be slipping a lot in modern programming as terrestrial channels such as Channel 4 who were once very good try to compete with the multiple channel digital satellite monsters. Then again, there is always someone harping back to an earlier, golden era. I've done it myself. SOmetimes we may have a point. Sometimes it's an inevitable sign of aging. Ah, back when I were a lad......
Our last, best hope…
I’ve been working my way through a box set of Babylon 5’s second series over the last couple of weeks. After a shaky and often clunky first season I came to love this show. Sure it had it’s fair share of occasional misfire episodes or cheesy acting - what long-running show doesn’t? - but it also had some fantastic actors - notably Peter Jurasik and his on-screen foil Andreas Katsulas.
From what originally seemed like a classical comedy duo pairing they grew through laughter, tragedy and fire. Londo watching the bombardment of the Narn homeworld, with Jurasik bringing a convincing portrayal of self-soubt and self-loathing at where the events he wrought - that he thought he wanted - have brought him to. Kastulas’s J’Kar standing in the council chambers after his planet has been forced to surrender after millions of civilian deaths. Slow, softly he stands before he leaves the chambers and makes a fantastically eloquent speech on the irrepressible nature of freedom. Shiver down the spine material.
Like a lot of fans one of the things I most admired about the show and JM Stracsyknski’s writing was the way he layered his stories, weaving in multiple character narratives into an ongoing, years-long narrative. Watching a concentrated run of the series like this gives you a better feeling for the developing story and actually increased my admiration for his craft - the way small, almost inconsequential characters or happenings could return much later and prove to be of vital importance was just remarkable, especially in SF TV where most shows prefer standalone episodes so more viewers can tune in any time. A developing storyline through many seasons requires a certain commitment from the viewer - it is, in some ways, more akin to reading a long book. It also requires the producers to show faith in their audience and treat them as if they have some intelligence - not something most television makers in these days of constant ‘live reality’ shows have ever displayed.
However there was something else, watching all of this unfolding tale in retrospect. Something new. Season 2 is where things start to go wrong. Bad things are happening out on the distant Rim, the Narn and Centauri are manoeuvred into a terrible war by unknown agents. The new Earth president may well have assassinated his predecessor and is whipping up fears of alien races to bolster his own position, curtailing civil liberties in the name of homeland security, establishing a Ministry of Peace to enforce this while citizens who criticise the government on any issue - even taxes - are branded as alien sympathisers, seditionists and a threat to planetary security. Does any of this sound dreadfully familiar to what’s been going on since 9-11, especially in the United States? A president who is on power on a possibly illegal mandate, savage curtailments of civil liberties ‘for the greater good’ and whipping up one people against others who are different… The scene where the Centauri use weapons of mass destruction to destroy Narn cities from orbit also has too many recent similarities for comfort, especially when US and our own UK forces used the likes of cluster bombs - classed as WMDs by the UN because of the collateral damage they cause to innocents - in areas where we knew there were civilians.
I know JM obviously didn’t plan these similarities - it’s coincidence; it’s what I now read into the text because of what I’ve been exposed to since the original viewing. But that is the very essence of good writing - that a tale will have echoes which means something to each time and generation. It’s why certain old tales like the Iliad repeat in one form or another for eternity. Even in more recent works it happens. As well as Bab 5 I re-read Alan Moore’s excellent V for Vendetta last year. The totalitarian Britain it portrayed was, for a few years, very much of the era in which it was written. It was still a damned good tale, but it had a flavour of the Thatcher/Reagan 80s to it which kind of dated it. Now it seems more relevant than ever. Everything comes around and the more things change the more they stay the same. Thankfully we always seem to have good artists to speak on the subjects which matter. It’s just a pity most of us don’t learn from them.
I’ve been working my way through a box set of Babylon 5’s second series over the last couple of weeks. After a shaky and often clunky first season I came to love this show. Sure it had it’s fair share of occasional misfire episodes or cheesy acting - what long-running show doesn’t? - but it also had some fantastic actors - notably Peter Jurasik and his on-screen foil Andreas Katsulas.
From what originally seemed like a classical comedy duo pairing they grew through laughter, tragedy and fire. Londo watching the bombardment of the Narn homeworld, with Jurasik bringing a convincing portrayal of self-soubt and self-loathing at where the events he wrought - that he thought he wanted - have brought him to. Kastulas’s J’Kar standing in the council chambers after his planet has been forced to surrender after millions of civilian deaths. Slow, softly he stands before he leaves the chambers and makes a fantastically eloquent speech on the irrepressible nature of freedom. Shiver down the spine material.
Like a lot of fans one of the things I most admired about the show and JM Stracsyknski’s writing was the way he layered his stories, weaving in multiple character narratives into an ongoing, years-long narrative. Watching a concentrated run of the series like this gives you a better feeling for the developing story and actually increased my admiration for his craft - the way small, almost inconsequential characters or happenings could return much later and prove to be of vital importance was just remarkable, especially in SF TV where most shows prefer standalone episodes so more viewers can tune in any time. A developing storyline through many seasons requires a certain commitment from the viewer - it is, in some ways, more akin to reading a long book. It also requires the producers to show faith in their audience and treat them as if they have some intelligence - not something most television makers in these days of constant ‘live reality’ shows have ever displayed.
However there was something else, watching all of this unfolding tale in retrospect. Something new. Season 2 is where things start to go wrong. Bad things are happening out on the distant Rim, the Narn and Centauri are manoeuvred into a terrible war by unknown agents. The new Earth president may well have assassinated his predecessor and is whipping up fears of alien races to bolster his own position, curtailing civil liberties in the name of homeland security, establishing a Ministry of Peace to enforce this while citizens who criticise the government on any issue - even taxes - are branded as alien sympathisers, seditionists and a threat to planetary security. Does any of this sound dreadfully familiar to what’s been going on since 9-11, especially in the United States? A president who is on power on a possibly illegal mandate, savage curtailments of civil liberties ‘for the greater good’ and whipping up one people against others who are different… The scene where the Centauri use weapons of mass destruction to destroy Narn cities from orbit also has too many recent similarities for comfort, especially when US and our own UK forces used the likes of cluster bombs - classed as WMDs by the UN because of the collateral damage they cause to innocents - in areas where we knew there were civilians.
I know JM obviously didn’t plan these similarities - it’s coincidence; it’s what I now read into the text because of what I’ve been exposed to since the original viewing. But that is the very essence of good writing - that a tale will have echoes which means something to each time and generation. It’s why certain old tales like the Iliad repeat in one form or another for eternity. Even in more recent works it happens. As well as Bab 5 I re-read Alan Moore’s excellent V for Vendetta last year. The totalitarian Britain it portrayed was, for a few years, very much of the era in which it was written. It was still a damned good tale, but it had a flavour of the Thatcher/Reagan 80s to it which kind of dated it. Now it seems more relevant than ever. Everything comes around and the more things change the more they stay the same. Thankfully we always seem to have good artists to speak on the subjects which matter. It’s just a pity most of us don’t learn from them.
Classic film
Pay day. I know I shouldn’t be blowing my meagre bookseller serf’s wages on frivolities, but I need a treat. A new DVD - classic film, lovingly restored to pristine beauty. Two disc set (double sided at that) of one of cinema’s greatest ever creations in this multiple Oscar winning set. No, Not Citizen Kane. Not Casablanca. Not Seven Samurai. Tom and Jerry, special edition! Wooohhhoooooo!!!!!! Dozens of T&Js in chronological order, right from the very first outing (where Tom is actually called Jasper). Utterly fabulous stuff. The craft and love and simple, wonderful insanity which went into these cartoons is still utterly vibrant. The animation from the 40s is so rich and detailed. Not only are the jokes funny - the fold-out ironing board routine is always funny - but the artwork is fabulous. The expressions on Tom’s face alone are often enough to crack me up. The fine attention to details, the little morality plays and the quite incredible synchronisation to music are amazing. This is especially showcased in a few cartoons where the music is brought to the foreground, such as where Tom is conducting the orchestra (Cat Concerto) or where opening the freezer door in the kitchen leads to an indoor ice-dance (with coloured jellies for the spot lights).
And on a more personal note, ever since I can remember my dear old dad and I have watched these cartoons together. My long-suffering mother shakes her head as we sit down on the floor cross-legged like schoolboys to watch when one came on TV. We’d end up rolling around on the floor, crying with laughter, no matter how often we’d seen that film before (as long as it was a Fred Quimby original and not the awful 60s versions). We still watch them together if they come on when I’m home at my parent’s house. Some folk shake their head and ask how a grown man can still watch this kind of thing. I feel so sorry for them; something important in side them has atrophied. Fortunately my dad taught me to keep that quality alive. Thanks, dad.
Pay day. I know I shouldn’t be blowing my meagre bookseller serf’s wages on frivolities, but I need a treat. A new DVD - classic film, lovingly restored to pristine beauty. Two disc set (double sided at that) of one of cinema’s greatest ever creations in this multiple Oscar winning set. No, Not Citizen Kane. Not Casablanca. Not Seven Samurai. Tom and Jerry, special edition! Wooohhhoooooo!!!!!! Dozens of T&Js in chronological order, right from the very first outing (where Tom is actually called Jasper). Utterly fabulous stuff. The craft and love and simple, wonderful insanity which went into these cartoons is still utterly vibrant. The animation from the 40s is so rich and detailed. Not only are the jokes funny - the fold-out ironing board routine is always funny - but the artwork is fabulous. The expressions on Tom’s face alone are often enough to crack me up. The fine attention to details, the little morality plays and the quite incredible synchronisation to music are amazing. This is especially showcased in a few cartoons where the music is brought to the foreground, such as where Tom is conducting the orchestra (Cat Concerto) or where opening the freezer door in the kitchen leads to an indoor ice-dance (with coloured jellies for the spot lights).
And on a more personal note, ever since I can remember my dear old dad and I have watched these cartoons together. My long-suffering mother shakes her head as we sit down on the floor cross-legged like schoolboys to watch when one came on TV. We’d end up rolling around on the floor, crying with laughter, no matter how often we’d seen that film before (as long as it was a Fred Quimby original and not the awful 60s versions). We still watch them together if they come on when I’m home at my parent’s house. Some folk shake their head and ask how a grown man can still watch this kind of thing. I feel so sorry for them; something important in side them has atrophied. Fortunately my dad taught me to keep that quality alive. Thanks, dad.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Pirates of the Pirates of the Caribbean
The latest attempt to stop the pirating of motion pictures has now reached the ridiculous heights of having projectionists equipped with night-vision goggles to watch for people armed with camcorders. Ye gods and I thought it was a big pain in the arse having to just put up with the sodding FACT (Fecking Anal Copyright Twats) warnings before every sodding movie these days.
The latest attempt to stop the pirating of motion pictures has now reached the ridiculous heights of having projectionists equipped with night-vision goggles to watch for people armed with camcorders. Ye gods and I thought it was a big pain in the arse having to just put up with the sodding FACT (Fecking Anal Copyright Twats) warnings before every sodding movie these days.
Optomistic
A 68-year old man is once more attempting to pass the exams he has been taking since - wait for it - 1969! It's his 35th attempt. This guy has been taking and failing his exam almost my entire life!! Olly, Matthew - maybe this will make you feel a little better as you approach the final semseter of the academic year, heh.
A 68-year old man is once more attempting to pass the exams he has been taking since - wait for it - 1969! It's his 35th attempt. This guy has been taking and failing his exam almost my entire life!! Olly, Matthew - maybe this will make you feel a little better as you approach the final semseter of the academic year, heh.
SF&F
Last weekend’s Publishing News had not only a selection of forthcoming SF&F titles for the summer, picked by Iain Emsley of Foreboding Prices... Sorry, I mean Forbidden Planet but also a nice full-page feature on how under-rated the genre often is by both booksellers and the public. Claire Bott (a Telos author) put together a fine item, which included input from Tim Holman of Orbit and Jane Johnson of HarperCollins Voyager, arguably two of the best SF editors in the UK and publishers who have done a lot to push the genre (and sent me many fine titles over the years I‘ve known them).
Jacket covers have all too often been a barrier, with dreadfully run-of-the-mill (I wouldn’t let them grind pepper never mind run my mill) artists illustrating woefully generic artwork. Certainly I’ve groaned and moaned over the covers of some genre works, even the ones on those of famous authors on occasions. The redesign of Ken MacLeod’s titles or Arthur C Clarke winner Tricia Sullivan’s Maul (a very interesting book) show that you can be faithful to your core audience and still try to reach out to more general readers.
I won’t repeat the entire article verbatim, but there was much discussion about style, marketing and even class influences (from World Fantasy Award winner Graham Joyce) and the fact that you don‘t have so many genre titles in the national Top 40 if you are only selling to a small number of geeks. Strangely enough the only major influence on selling SF&F to both genre readers and introducing more general readers Bott missed out (and to be fair she did very well with the space she had) was the role of expert booksellers.
Okay, I am obviously biased in this respect, but the bookseller are ultimately the people in publishing who are at the front line. We see what people buy, we recommend, we put out the displays and often pick the selection and arrangement of titles for sections, so I don’t think I am being immodest by claiming that we booksellers too have not only a role to play here but also exert some influence. A small personal example recently would be a middle-aged gentleman who enjoyed reading the current vogue in Classical period novels set around real events, such as Gates of Fire or Spartan. I showed him some more titles but he had already read them. Hmmm - take him over to the SF section, He doesn’t read SF he says. Have a look at this I tell him and pass him Robert Silverberg’s Roma Eterna, an alternative history in which Rome never fell. Customer is impressed - all the more so since he would never have picked this up otherwise. He’s since told me he’s enjoying the book and wondering what else we have that may be historical fiction and is considering Years of Rice and Salt or Ward Moore’s great-grand-daddy of them all, Bring the Jubilee (a fabulous novel in any genre).
Point being these are titles which sell to SF&F fans but can also appeal to a more general readership if you know how to introduce them to the books. Hidden away in the section - or even in our case displayed on a stand in SF with mini reviews on them - they’ll never see them because they don’t go near that section because of course, they don’t read SF&F…
Last weekend’s Publishing News had not only a selection of forthcoming SF&F titles for the summer, picked by Iain Emsley of Foreboding Prices... Sorry, I mean Forbidden Planet but also a nice full-page feature on how under-rated the genre often is by both booksellers and the public. Claire Bott (a Telos author) put together a fine item, which included input from Tim Holman of Orbit and Jane Johnson of HarperCollins Voyager, arguably two of the best SF editors in the UK and publishers who have done a lot to push the genre (and sent me many fine titles over the years I‘ve known them).
Jacket covers have all too often been a barrier, with dreadfully run-of-the-mill (I wouldn’t let them grind pepper never mind run my mill) artists illustrating woefully generic artwork. Certainly I’ve groaned and moaned over the covers of some genre works, even the ones on those of famous authors on occasions. The redesign of Ken MacLeod’s titles or Arthur C Clarke winner Tricia Sullivan’s Maul (a very interesting book) show that you can be faithful to your core audience and still try to reach out to more general readers.
I won’t repeat the entire article verbatim, but there was much discussion about style, marketing and even class influences (from World Fantasy Award winner Graham Joyce) and the fact that you don‘t have so many genre titles in the national Top 40 if you are only selling to a small number of geeks. Strangely enough the only major influence on selling SF&F to both genre readers and introducing more general readers Bott missed out (and to be fair she did very well with the space she had) was the role of expert booksellers.
Okay, I am obviously biased in this respect, but the bookseller are ultimately the people in publishing who are at the front line. We see what people buy, we recommend, we put out the displays and often pick the selection and arrangement of titles for sections, so I don’t think I am being immodest by claiming that we booksellers too have not only a role to play here but also exert some influence. A small personal example recently would be a middle-aged gentleman who enjoyed reading the current vogue in Classical period novels set around real events, such as Gates of Fire or Spartan. I showed him some more titles but he had already read them. Hmmm - take him over to the SF section, He doesn’t read SF he says. Have a look at this I tell him and pass him Robert Silverberg’s Roma Eterna, an alternative history in which Rome never fell. Customer is impressed - all the more so since he would never have picked this up otherwise. He’s since told me he’s enjoying the book and wondering what else we have that may be historical fiction and is considering Years of Rice and Salt or Ward Moore’s great-grand-daddy of them all, Bring the Jubilee (a fabulous novel in any genre).
Point being these are titles which sell to SF&F fans but can also appeal to a more general readership if you know how to introduce them to the books. Hidden away in the section - or even in our case displayed on a stand in SF with mini reviews on them - they’ll never see them because they don’t go near that section because of course, they don’t read SF&F…
Vagaries of life
Fellow TAO contributor and muffin massacre man Vegar Holman has started his own blog, hot on the heels of our news editor Sandy Auden. And right away our Scandinavian reviewer is right into the controversial stuff (and you think I’m bad at provoking folk?) discussing the best-selling fantasy book in the world - the Bible! Heh. Actually Vegar makes some good points about fantasy elements in the Bible.
I’ve always found it amusing that the same inbred idiots in certain states in the USA ban Harry Potter from the schools, not on taste grounds which I could understand, but because it is ‘Satanic’, evil and magic corrupts and the Bible speaks against it. Oh, yeah - what about that trick with the fishes and the loaves? Parting the Red Sea? Bringing Lazarus back to from the dead? Fuck, it’s Lazarus, he’s a zombie!!!! Oh no, he’s chewing on Uncle Moses’ brains!! Quick, get a sling and put a pebble right in his brain, David!
Actually it reminds me of an old LP I have called Inside Star Trek from the mid 70s (probably collectable now). One section has Rodenberry railing against the censorship and limited vision of ignorant network executives. For example he says, let’s take an adaptation of the best-selling book of all time, the Bible. Here are the likely responses from the network: we’re worried about the principal character. We don’t like him going around barefoot or in sandals and practising medicine without a license. And we can’t have this God person wiping out 99.9% of humanity. As one customer commented this week fantasy was fine but for serious OTT violence and magical creatures you can’t beat the Bible.
Sniffle
Ah, here comes spring, so on cue comes a stinking cold and barking cough. Lovely.
Fellow TAO contributor and muffin massacre man Vegar Holman has started his own blog, hot on the heels of our news editor Sandy Auden. And right away our Scandinavian reviewer is right into the controversial stuff (and you think I’m bad at provoking folk?) discussing the best-selling fantasy book in the world - the Bible! Heh. Actually Vegar makes some good points about fantasy elements in the Bible.
I’ve always found it amusing that the same inbred idiots in certain states in the USA ban Harry Potter from the schools, not on taste grounds which I could understand, but because it is ‘Satanic’, evil and magic corrupts and the Bible speaks against it. Oh, yeah - what about that trick with the fishes and the loaves? Parting the Red Sea? Bringing Lazarus back to from the dead? Fuck, it’s Lazarus, he’s a zombie!!!! Oh no, he’s chewing on Uncle Moses’ brains!! Quick, get a sling and put a pebble right in his brain, David!
Actually it reminds me of an old LP I have called Inside Star Trek from the mid 70s (probably collectable now). One section has Rodenberry railing against the censorship and limited vision of ignorant network executives. For example he says, let’s take an adaptation of the best-selling book of all time, the Bible. Here are the likely responses from the network: we’re worried about the principal character. We don’t like him going around barefoot or in sandals and practising medicine without a license. And we can’t have this God person wiping out 99.9% of humanity. As one customer commented this week fantasy was fine but for serious OTT violence and magical creatures you can’t beat the Bible.
Sniffle
Ah, here comes spring, so on cue comes a stinking cold and barking cough. Lovely.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
This week's word association from Subliminal:
- Boxing:: kangaroos
- Lewis:: Morse's mate
- Bodyguard:: shite film
- Burnout:: regularly
- Cruising:: gay man on the pull
- Easter:: choccy eggs!!!
- AA:: Atomic Arsehole
- Research:: le temps perdu
- Redemption:: over-rated, live in sin
- Snickers:: smelly knickers
Weapons of Mass Decpetion
Peace campaigners have resurrected the traditonal Easter protest (Easter - resurrection - geddit?). Top Scottish author and well known bearded chap Iain Banks added his voice commenting that it was hypocritical of Tony Blair to take the UK into an illegal war supposedly to secure WMDs when the UK government had a vast arsenal in the lochs and glens of Scotland.
Easter
As per my usual heathen customs over Easter I crucified a priest, let him die slowly then sealed his body in a rock tomb over the weekend. Then bugger me if I didn't forget to check on him on the way home on Monday to see if he managed to resurrect himself. If he had I was going to convert right there and then - HALLELUJAH! I SAW THE LIGHT! then I put on my shades, too bright for my tastes - since I work on the assumption if the crucified priest comes back to life then there is a God. And if there isn't then I can wrap the corpse in some cloth and make some Shroud of Turin merchandise to make a buck or two. Getcha Shroud tea towels here! Two for a tenner - have your dishes dried and blessed! Guess I'll have to make one with a second image on it for added authenticity now after recent claims. I always said these religious types were two-faced you know. Anyway, if the Shroud now shows two faces doesn't that make it more likely to be the image of Janus, the two-faced Roman trickster god instead of Jesus?
Simps
Simpsons creator Matt Groening is finally to appear as himself in the show. He has cropped up before but never as a proper speaking character. Well if it's good enough for Mary Kate and Ashley.... As long as the actor's strike doesn't put a stop to the whole thing of course.
Peace campaigners have resurrected the traditonal Easter protest (Easter - resurrection - geddit?). Top Scottish author and well known bearded chap Iain Banks added his voice commenting that it was hypocritical of Tony Blair to take the UK into an illegal war supposedly to secure WMDs when the UK government had a vast arsenal in the lochs and glens of Scotland.
Easter
As per my usual heathen customs over Easter I crucified a priest, let him die slowly then sealed his body in a rock tomb over the weekend. Then bugger me if I didn't forget to check on him on the way home on Monday to see if he managed to resurrect himself. If he had I was going to convert right there and then - HALLELUJAH! I SAW THE LIGHT! then I put on my shades, too bright for my tastes - since I work on the assumption if the crucified priest comes back to life then there is a God. And if there isn't then I can wrap the corpse in some cloth and make some Shroud of Turin merchandise to make a buck or two. Getcha Shroud tea towels here! Two for a tenner - have your dishes dried and blessed! Guess I'll have to make one with a second image on it for added authenticity now after recent claims. I always said these religious types were two-faced you know. Anyway, if the Shroud now shows two faces doesn't that make it more likely to be the image of Janus, the two-faced Roman trickster god instead of Jesus?
Simps
Simpsons creator Matt Groening is finally to appear as himself in the show. He has cropped up before but never as a proper speaking character. Well if it's good enough for Mary Kate and Ashley.... As long as the actor's strike doesn't put a stop to the whole thing of course.
Hug
Apparently having a chum to talk to and a good hug help you feel better and fight depression. Well, duh.... And a decent shag is even better. Perhaps it could be available on the NHS? Hi, my doctor sent me here for some advanced sexual healing? Cooolllllll.....
Apparently having a chum to talk to and a good hug help you feel better and fight depression. Well, duh.... And a decent shag is even better. Perhaps it could be available on the NHS? Hi, my doctor sent me here for some advanced sexual healing? Cooolllllll.....
This town
is becoming like a Ghost Town. Not only a cool Two-Tone single from the Specials (which plays over the opening of the fantastic Shaun of the Dead) but also a very unusual web site which my chum Linus sent to me.
is becoming like a Ghost Town. Not only a cool Two-Tone single from the Specials (which plays over the opening of the fantastic Shaun of the Dead) but also a very unusual web site which my chum Linus sent to me.
Wednesday, April 7, 2004
Uprisings
Isn't it fun to watch British and US government officials basically trying to tell us there isn't really much of a problme right now in Iraq while every news channel shows us the US blowing up a mosque with a gunship??? Well, guess if you want to stick you head int eh sand a desert country is the place to do it. Personally I think our government are talking a right load of shi'ite.
I'm sure some of you are confused over the difference between the two sects, the Sunni Muslims and the unfortunately named Shi''ites. Like Catholics and Protestants they both have the same faith but like to bicker, argue and kill each other over the same god on regular occassions all across the world. Apparently one set believes the Prophet wore red socks an the other that he wore blue socks (apologies to Grant and Naylor's Red Dwarf which I am ripping off somewhat here). Naturally they are all wrong because he wore green socks. With sandals. How anyone can follow a man who wears socks (of any colour) with sandals is beyond me. Or indeed just sandals.
Editor's note: Joe is just going to leave quickly because he can hear a Fatwa at the front door. He himself wears rather snappy Snoopy Joe Cool socks which makes him a fucking god. Believe in me and drink root beer. He who sleeps on top of the kennel will live forever. Lead us not into the temptation of Garfield and Curse the Red Baron. No-one ever bombed civlians over Peanuts. Not even Jimmy Carter. And he likes peanuts.
Isn't it fun to watch British and US government officials basically trying to tell us there isn't really much of a problme right now in Iraq while every news channel shows us the US blowing up a mosque with a gunship??? Well, guess if you want to stick you head int eh sand a desert country is the place to do it. Personally I think our government are talking a right load of shi'ite.
I'm sure some of you are confused over the difference between the two sects, the Sunni Muslims and the unfortunately named Shi''ites. Like Catholics and Protestants they both have the same faith but like to bicker, argue and kill each other over the same god on regular occassions all across the world. Apparently one set believes the Prophet wore red socks an the other that he wore blue socks (apologies to Grant and Naylor's Red Dwarf which I am ripping off somewhat here). Naturally they are all wrong because he wore green socks. With sandals. How anyone can follow a man who wears socks (of any colour) with sandals is beyond me. Or indeed just sandals.
Editor's note: Joe is just going to leave quickly because he can hear a Fatwa at the front door. He himself wears rather snappy Snoopy Joe Cool socks which makes him a fucking god. Believe in me and drink root beer. He who sleeps on top of the kennel will live forever. Lead us not into the temptation of Garfield and Curse the Red Baron. No-one ever bombed civlians over Peanuts. Not even Jimmy Carter. And he likes peanuts.
Transport of (dead) Delight
The things you sometimes just come across on the way home from work. This gorgeous glass and wood, horse-drawn hearse was idling in one of Edinburgh’s streets in the Georgian New Town (it’s only a couple of centuries old - to us that’s still pretty new, thank you). Doesn't it fit the Georgian streets rather well?
Was I perhaps being a tad macabre and ghoulish snapping some pictures of this stylish mode of transport for the upwardly mobile cadaver? Perhaps, but then I am ghoulish and macabre, so that’s perfectly normal behaviour for me. It would also make a wonderful set of wheels for a classy vamp-about-town methinks.
The things you sometimes just come across on the way home from work. This gorgeous glass and wood, horse-drawn hearse was idling in one of Edinburgh’s streets in the Georgian New Town (it’s only a couple of centuries old - to us that’s still pretty new, thank you). Doesn't it fit the Georgian streets rather well?
Was I perhaps being a tad macabre and ghoulish snapping some pictures of this stylish mode of transport for the upwardly mobile cadaver? Perhaps, but then I am ghoulish and macabre, so that’s perfectly normal behaviour for me. It would also make a wonderful set of wheels for a classy vamp-about-town methinks.
Harryheusen’s new creation
No, not a new stop-motion fantastic creature to menace Doug McClure. A new statue of the famous Scottish missionary, anti-slavery campaigner and African explorer David Livingstone being attacked by a lion. Designed by no less than the great Ray Harryhausen (who enriched my childhood immeasurably - the fighting skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts still ranks as one of fantasy film’s greatest moments) and unveiled today in Livingstone’s home town of - no, not Livingstone - Blantyre. His body is here but his heart remained in Africa at his death. Which is funny because I left my heart in San Francisco. And my mate lost hers to a starship trooper. People are very careless with their pulmonary organs you know.
Creepy
Was a little worried today when I noticed teens at the erotica section. Clearly to young for the rather explicit books in there (not sexual health books, this is the naughty stuff). Then their parents join them and have a look with them, exchanging loud comments about the books. Now I am a pervert of many years standing and several lying down, and support most naughty vices but this was just creepy and yeuchy.
No, not a new stop-motion fantastic creature to menace Doug McClure. A new statue of the famous Scottish missionary, anti-slavery campaigner and African explorer David Livingstone being attacked by a lion. Designed by no less than the great Ray Harryhausen (who enriched my childhood immeasurably - the fighting skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts still ranks as one of fantasy film’s greatest moments) and unveiled today in Livingstone’s home town of - no, not Livingstone - Blantyre. His body is here but his heart remained in Africa at his death. Which is funny because I left my heart in San Francisco. And my mate lost hers to a starship trooper. People are very careless with their pulmonary organs you know.
Creepy
Was a little worried today when I noticed teens at the erotica section. Clearly to young for the rather explicit books in there (not sexual health books, this is the naughty stuff). Then their parents join them and have a look with them, exchanging loud comments about the books. Now I am a pervert of many years standing and several lying down, and support most naughty vices but this was just creepy and yeuchy.
Chocolate and women - official
I knew it!!! New Scientist reveals that pregnant women who ate chocolate have happier babies!!! Well, of course they do and I bet the mothers-to-be are happier too! And so are we big babies when we grow up and devour yummy, yummy double choc.....Mmmmmmm, chocolate....
I knew it!!! New Scientist reveals that pregnant women who ate chocolate have happier babies!!! Well, of course they do and I bet the mothers-to-be are happier too! And so are we big babies when we grow up and devour yummy, yummy double choc.....Mmmmmmm, chocolate....
Monday, April 5, 2004
Heavy
21 Grams. Hard to watch with a multiple person narrative (like an Altman movie) and an ever-changing, non-linear chronology that moves backwards and forwards for each main character (it makes the fabulous Memento's structure looks simple). It can be confusing until you get used to it, but take my word for it, you should go and see it, it is a very powerful and unique film.
21 Grams. Hard to watch with a multiple person narrative (like an Altman movie) and an ever-changing, non-linear chronology that moves backwards and forwards for each main character (it makes the fabulous Memento's structure looks simple). It can be confusing until you get used to it, but take my word for it, you should go and see it, it is a very powerful and unique film.
Under her own steam
The Flying Scotsman, which was up for auction, has been rpeserved from foreign buyers and saved for the nation. She will now live at the National Rail Museum in York and will, thankfully, also be kept in working order so that she can still pull special trains on mainline operations. Probably the most famous steam locomotive in the world - and a remidner of a time when British railways not only worked properly (unlike today) but were the most advanced in the globe - it is nice to know that she will not be a mere Museum exhibit. Although it is good to see such historic heirlooms preserved for future generations to marvel at, there is something terribly sad about knowing they are now only static exhibits in a museum; the technologicial equivelant of stuffed and mounted animals in a natural history exhibit.
The day before another travel machine was being prepared for museum life here in Scotland: Concorde. She is too large for roads or rail and will come by barge (this early version was stripped for spares for the later ones and so no longer flies) and will be stuck until the required Thames tide comes in to float her to East Fortune near Edinburgh and the Museum of Flight. Unlike the much older machine above she cannot move under her own power anymore and will simply be a static display.
Both machines encompass the finest marriage of British technological, engingeering and artistic skills of the time and both were amazing feats. Now both are museum exhibits. It's especially sad for me to see Concorde, surely the most graceful, powerful aircraft ever made mounted as a museum piece. She was the future once and now she is history. It is a great irony that she must take over a week to travel from near London to Edinburgh when she could cross oceans in a couple of hours while a much older steam engine happily chuffs to it's museum location in a few hours.
The Flying Scotsman, which was up for auction, has been rpeserved from foreign buyers and saved for the nation. She will now live at the National Rail Museum in York and will, thankfully, also be kept in working order so that she can still pull special trains on mainline operations. Probably the most famous steam locomotive in the world - and a remidner of a time when British railways not only worked properly (unlike today) but were the most advanced in the globe - it is nice to know that she will not be a mere Museum exhibit. Although it is good to see such historic heirlooms preserved for future generations to marvel at, there is something terribly sad about knowing they are now only static exhibits in a museum; the technologicial equivelant of stuffed and mounted animals in a natural history exhibit.
The day before another travel machine was being prepared for museum life here in Scotland: Concorde. She is too large for roads or rail and will come by barge (this early version was stripped for spares for the later ones and so no longer flies) and will be stuck until the required Thames tide comes in to float her to East Fortune near Edinburgh and the Museum of Flight. Unlike the much older machine above she cannot move under her own power anymore and will simply be a static display.
Both machines encompass the finest marriage of British technological, engingeering and artistic skills of the time and both were amazing feats. Now both are museum exhibits. It's especially sad for me to see Concorde, surely the most graceful, powerful aircraft ever made mounted as a museum piece. She was the future once and now she is history. It is a great irony that she must take over a week to travel from near London to Edinburgh when she could cross oceans in a couple of hours while a much older steam engine happily chuffs to it's museum location in a few hours.
P-p-p-p-pick up a penguin
Peter the Penguin, possibly the most famous penguin in the world after Opus retired to live on a farm with Bill the Cat, has returned!
Peter the Penguin, possibly the most famous penguin in the world after Opus retired to live on a farm with Bill the Cat, has returned!
This week's word association from Subliminal:
- Condemn:: mercy
- Promiscuous:: shag
- Pro-life:: murderous zealot
- Mona Lisa:: Big Fat Pizza
- Crown:: of thorns
- Mumble:: pardon?
- Hack:: journalist
- Diet:: bugger off
- Introduction:: let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...
- Latin America:: fucked by American foreign policy
Had a very long walk all the way from the village of Dirleston along the beach until we ended up at North Berwick. Wonderfully schizophrenic Scottish weather - one minute warm and very sunny then dark, glowering clouds and driving rain and wind then back to sun. At one point we could see the black rain clouds moving down the coast towards us and below them a wavering shape, almost like enomrous, miles-high black net curtains. They were literally sheets of rain coming from the black clouds. Wind whipping up the waves, glowering clouds - it was like something from a Turner seascape. It did bring out a gorgeous rainbow over the Bass Rock at North Berwick however, although it's probably not overly clear here.
The storms did however claim casualties. We realised from the debris that a ship had been wrecked: here washed up on the foaming shore is the remains of the Captain's Log :-)!!!!
Saturday, April 3, 2004
Singing Samurai
Caught Kitano's version of Zatoichi this week. An updated take on an old series of B-movies form Japan, it was an utterly excellent couple of hours. Funny but serious in places, the tale of the bleach-blonde blind masseur wandering from town to town who is actually a deadly Samurai (his sword is in his cane) is essentially the Japanese answer to 60s/70s Spaghetti Westerns.
Sure the CGI for the fountains of blood may be a bit ropey, but the whole thing was so much fun (and no wire-Fu work either, thank you). And then there's the song and dance routine... Singing and dancing villagers, evil henchmen ruining the innocent village, a wandering Ronin, a blind man who is an unstoppable killing machine and killer Gieshas - I ask you, what more can you ask for in a movie????
Although from a distance the hair does make him look a little like Eminem.
Caught Kitano's version of Zatoichi this week. An updated take on an old series of B-movies form Japan, it was an utterly excellent couple of hours. Funny but serious in places, the tale of the bleach-blonde blind masseur wandering from town to town who is actually a deadly Samurai (his sword is in his cane) is essentially the Japanese answer to 60s/70s Spaghetti Westerns.
Sure the CGI for the fountains of blood may be a bit ropey, but the whole thing was so much fun (and no wire-Fu work either, thank you). And then there's the song and dance routine... Singing and dancing villagers, evil henchmen ruining the innocent village, a wandering Ronin, a blind man who is an unstoppable killing machine and killer Gieshas - I ask you, what more can you ask for in a movie????
Although from a distance the hair does make him look a little like Eminem.
Grass roots power for Scotland
The wee Scottish village of Fintry has embraced renewable energy by striking a deal with a company building a wind farm and agreeing to have an extra turbine built just for the village. Nice to see both renewable energy being so successfull and grass-roots level power (sorry, poor pun) for the people it affects working so well together, especially in a week where the old dream of the future, nuclear power, took a step closer to closure with Dounray, one of the original batch of UK nuclear power stations, closing down sections in preparation for eventual closure in a decade or two.
The wee Scottish village of Fintry has embraced renewable energy by striking a deal with a company building a wind farm and agreeing to have an extra turbine built just for the village. Nice to see both renewable energy being so successfull and grass-roots level power (sorry, poor pun) for the people it affects working so well together, especially in a week where the old dream of the future, nuclear power, took a step closer to closure with Dounray, one of the original batch of UK nuclear power stations, closing down sections in preparation for eventual closure in a decade or two.
Exterminate
The news yesterday that the diminutive gnome Michael Grade is to be appointed as the new chairman of the BBC seemed popular with the coproration's staff, but will, I fear, spark concern among British SF fans. For it was Grade, many years ago when Controller of BBC1 who ulled the plug on Doctor Who, then the longest running SF show in the world. No, shorty, we haven't forgotten you!
Now I am the first to admit the show needed some serious re-working and updating at the time - despite the fact it brought in more in merchandising sales than it cost to make the BBC spent little money or resources on this incredibly well-loved show and ithad deteriorated. Putting it up against new mroe popualr shows on other channels didn't help much either. However, Grade made it pretty clear that he scrapped the show because he hated it. That's all - no good reasons as a broadcaster or programme maker, just that he didn't like it. And he thought Who fans were a bit sad. This form the man who promoted bloody Eastenders and foisted hackneyed scripts of cliched Cockneys on the nation each week.
An appearance on Paul Merton's excellent Room 101 (where people are allowed to argue for some of the things they hate most to be destroyed) confirmed this when the issue of cancelling Who came up again and he just re-iterated that he hated it and thought the fans (some of whom had turned up in the audience in costume) were sad. Now it strikes me if you have a product that is immensely popular round the world, which generates lots of money for you and has in fact become a British institution which, long after cancellation, people still show great interest in (book sales, DVD sales and new stories on the BBC's own web pages brought in massive numbers of hits) then as the chief of that company, regardless of your personal taste, you'd be happy to support it and make it grow? Wouldn't you be happy to have such enthusiastic fans and supporters? His re-appointment to the BBC just as pre-production is getting under way for a brand new series of Doctor Who does make me worry that the wee shortarse will be at it again.
The news yesterday that the diminutive gnome Michael Grade is to be appointed as the new chairman of the BBC seemed popular with the coproration's staff, but will, I fear, spark concern among British SF fans. For it was Grade, many years ago when Controller of BBC1 who ulled the plug on Doctor Who, then the longest running SF show in the world. No, shorty, we haven't forgotten you!
Now I am the first to admit the show needed some serious re-working and updating at the time - despite the fact it brought in more in merchandising sales than it cost to make the BBC spent little money or resources on this incredibly well-loved show and ithad deteriorated. Putting it up against new mroe popualr shows on other channels didn't help much either. However, Grade made it pretty clear that he scrapped the show because he hated it. That's all - no good reasons as a broadcaster or programme maker, just that he didn't like it. And he thought Who fans were a bit sad. This form the man who promoted bloody Eastenders and foisted hackneyed scripts of cliched Cockneys on the nation each week.
An appearance on Paul Merton's excellent Room 101 (where people are allowed to argue for some of the things they hate most to be destroyed) confirmed this when the issue of cancelling Who came up again and he just re-iterated that he hated it and thought the fans (some of whom had turned up in the audience in costume) were sad. Now it strikes me if you have a product that is immensely popular round the world, which generates lots of money for you and has in fact become a British institution which, long after cancellation, people still show great interest in (book sales, DVD sales and new stories on the BBC's own web pages brought in massive numbers of hits) then as the chief of that company, regardless of your personal taste, you'd be happy to support it and make it grow? Wouldn't you be happy to have such enthusiastic fans and supporters? His re-appointment to the BBC just as pre-production is getting under way for a brand new series of Doctor Who does make me worry that the wee shortarse will be at it again.
Away with the fairies
According to an article in New Scientist researchers investigating the favoured explanations for the existence of so-called Fairy Cirlces in Namibia (mysteriously empty and barren discs of soil anything up to 10 metres in diameter) have found that none of the three principal theories actually hold any water. So, the cirlces are still mysterious and it's back to the drawing board for a new explanation for their existence. Or as one scientist put it, at the moment we're left with the Faeries option.
According to an article in New Scientist researchers investigating the favoured explanations for the existence of so-called Fairy Cirlces in Namibia (mysteriously empty and barren discs of soil anything up to 10 metres in diameter) have found that none of the three principal theories actually hold any water. So, the cirlces are still mysterious and it's back to the drawing board for a new explanation for their existence. Or as one scientist put it, at the moment we're left with the Faeries option.
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