Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Work in an uptight office where 'the guys in IT' check your e-mails and monitor your internet use??
Still want to have a wank at your desk??
Fear not, bookmark this page and you'll be able to beat your meat in front of your colleagues without fear of losing your job.
Monday, 29 September 2008
I went to see Chris Nieratko at the Old Blue Last last night because I am a big fan of Skinema, he showed some slides and told some drinking stories and it was really funny and cool. I thought he was a total badass until I talked to Jose who told me about the time he spent a week doing crystal meth with a tramp on Venice Beach, accidently robbing houses and playing golf with rocks until he got calluses. Jose should get a book tour.
Sunday, 28 September 2008
When i was about 13/14 and i first came across the internet i used to look at an awful lot of morbid images and videos of people dying or having really bad things happen to them on sites like rotten.com. Most of which have probably left an indelible mark on me. I haven't seen weird things like that on the internet for a long time (I presumed maybe I had but i was just unshockable these days), however I just watched this video of a politician (Budd Dwyer) acting really calm at a press conference then suddenly pull out a gun and shoot himself in the head.
It's REALLY grizzly, and I wish I hadn't watched it. If you want to though, you can see it here. I haven't clicke don any of the other things on the site but it looks like there's a lot of other similar videos of murders and suicides that will make you want to delete your internet history.
(Lixo had the first video on his blog... maybepossiblynot.blogspot.com)
Friday, 26 September 2008
Euromillions draw is £100 million. You won't even need to ask me if I've won that sort of money... If i did all I would wear for the rest of my life is garish Versace silk shirts like these.
I'd love a silk suit too, but I don't think I could handle the humiliation of constantly sliding off my chair whenever I try to sit down.
Thursday, 25 September 2008
History seems full of amazingly eccentric guys who achieved an awful lot in their lives, whilst also having really fucked up personal lives. I’m not sure if that's because looking back through the last two thousand years there are simply a lot more interesting characters to choose from than the limited amount in the present day, or if it’s due to us locking up people as soon as they seem a little crazy and ignoring anything they have to say... Being completely insane didn't really seem such a barrier in those days. Take William Chester Minor for example. He seems like a great guy, and not particularly dangerous. He deserted the US Army, had sex with a few prostitutes and it seems that was enough for him to be classed as insane. Thankfully he spent all his newfound spare time reading any book he could come across and contributing entries to the OED, citing earliest uses of words and things like that. A lot more worthwhile than sitting in an office pumping out garbage all day.
This article on him is pretty interesting:
Totally ripped from the BBC: http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/myths_legends/england/berkshire/article_1.shtml
"Dr William Chester Minor arrived in Crowthorne, Berkshire on 17th April 1872, passing through the forbidding gates of Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum to begin an incarceration that lasted 38 troubled years. The events which had brought him to this nadir spanned many years, his spiralling descent into mental instability was both long and painful.
Born in Ceylon, in 1834, Minor was the son of New England missionaries. His conscience was plagued by "lascivious thoughts" about the local girls – thoughts which he later identified as having set him on the path to insanity – he was sent back to America at 14, where he studied medicine at Yale, before joining the Union Army as a surgeon in 1863.
It is Minor's experience of war that has most commonly been blamed for triggering his mental illness; for tipping him "over the edge". A sensitive and courteous man, who painted and played the flute, Minor was exposed to the full ferocity and horror of war at the Battle of the Wilderness in May 1864 - a battle noted for the horrific casualties it incurred.
As well as the terrible mutilations and other injuries sustained by both sides during the fighting, hundreds of soldiers were burned to death, as the foliage on the battlefield caught alight. It was as though "hell itself had usurped the place of earth", one soldier wrote later. As army surgeon, Minor was ordered to brand an Irish deserter on the cheek with the letter "D", and, not surprisingly, this incident seems to have affected him deeply. Paranoid delusions about the Irish were a feature of his later madness.
Minor continued to serve in the army for several years, however, he showed growing signs of mental instability, and in 1868 was admitted into a lunatic asylum in Washington. Judged "incapacitated by causes arising in the line of duty", he was resigned from his commission, and in 1871 went to London, where he settled in Lambeth. Here, sinking deeper into paranoia, Minor shot and killed George Merritt, a stoker, believing he had broken into his room.
The subsequent trial revealed the full extent of Minor's insanity for the first time, and the details were widely published in the press; the "Lambeth Tragedy" was international news.
Minor was judged not guilty, on grounds of insanity, and was detained in safe custody "until Her Majesty's Pleasure be known", and so he became Patient Number 742; inmate of England's newest asylum.
England's newest asylum
In the early-19th Century, the most dangerous "criminal lunatics" were housed in Bethlehem Hospital in London. However, it became severely overcrowded, and so, following an Act for the Better Provision for the Custody and Care of the Criminal Lunatics (1860), Broadmoor was opened in 1863 - the first institution in England built specifically for the "criminally insane".
Situated in the village of Crowthorne in Berkshire, the Broadmoor site originally covered 290 acres. The impressive building, set behind forbidding high walls and imposing front gates, was designed by Sir Joshua Jebb, a military engineer who had previously designed two prisons. And Broadmoor was still essentially prison-like; whilst its construction showed recognition of the differing needs of the "criminally insane", the Victorians were by no means overly enlightened in their treatment of such detainees – Broadmoor’s inmates were always referred to as "lunatics" and "criminals", never as "patients".
In these less centralised and institutionalised times, however, life inside could be fairly comfortable for those of means, like Minor. (Later on, under a new director, things were less "flexible".) Well-educated and still receiving his army pension, Minor was housed in Block 2, the "swell block", and was given two rooms, not one. After pressure from the American Vice-Consul-General his painting materials were returned, as were some of his clothes, but his most extravagant “allowance” was books – Minor acquired so many that he even converted one of his rooms into a library.
It was his passion for books that brought Minor to wide public attention for the second time, in the romanticised story of his meeting with Dr James Murray, the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary.
The idea of a new, all-encompassing "Big Dictionary" of English was first touted in 1857. It was a huge undertaking, and from the start its editors recognised that they would need the help of many volunteers, to search their shelves for quotations to support each definition. Even with this help the dictionary took 70 years to complete!
Murray assumed editorship of the dictionary in 1879, and issued an appeal for volunteers to magazines and newspapers. A copy of the appeal found its way into Minor's hands, and he seized upon the opportunity to help; whether he saw it merely as something to occupy his time, or whether it gave him the feeling he was working towards his redemption, we will never know.
Minor started collecting quotations around 1880-1, and continued doing so for 20 years, working systematically through his library. Simon Winchester in 'The Surgeon of Crowthorne', says this work became the "defining feature" of Minor's life.
Minor certainly made an enormous contribution to the dictionary over the years, and this did not – could not – go unnoticed. Murray said Minor's contributions were so great they "could easily have illustrated the last four centuries [of words] from his quotations alone".
Minor always signed his letters in the same way: Broadmoor, Crowthorne, Berkshire. His identity remained an enigma to those working on the dictionary, and Murray and Minor did not meet for many years. In 1915, a sensationalised account of their meeting appeared in Strand magazine, and was quickly reprinted across the world, even in China.
It described how, following Minor's failure to attend the Great Dictionary Dinner in 1897, Murray decided to visit Minor himself, to find out who this mysterious man was. Arriving at the large Victorian mansion, it continued, Murray expected to find Minor a typical country gentleman. When shown into the study of Broadmoor's director he naturally assumed this man was the evasive Minor, only then did he find out that Minor was actually an inmate of the asylum.
This romanticised story captured the public's imagination, and, despite rebuttals in the press by Murray's successor at the OED, it continued to be repeated as fact throughout the 20th Century. It was finally laid to rest, however, by the research of Simon Winchester, and the discovery of a letter written by Dr Murray.
It appears Murray originally thought Minor was a medical man associated with the asylum, but that his suspicions were aroused in the late 1880s, when a visitor from America thanked him for his kindness to the "poor Dr Minor". Minor's troubled history was finally revealed, and Murray was astonished. It was still many years before he visited Broadmoor, (in 1891 not 1897), but in the intervening years Murray took care to write to Minor with sensitivity, never making it known that he was aware of his mental illness.
The meeting, when it finally happened, proved the start of a lasting friendship: Murray visited Minor at Broadmoor on many occasions over 20 years. The romanticised meeting may have been disproved but perhaps the facts are more uplifting than the fiction.
In 1910, 28 years after arriving at Broadmoor, Minor passed through its gates once again, returning to custody in America, where he died in 1920. Minor lived half his life shut away from the world in an era when his condition was seen as untreatable. Today, treatments for mental illness have advanced, but, Winchester argues, modern drugs may have made Minor less inclined to start working on the OED – his own form of "therapy" – from which, ironically, we have all benefited.
In Minor's story, fact has become entwined with fiction, but perhaps what makes it so enduring is that it fits into the popular narrative mould of the individual who achieves amazing intellectual feats despite mental instability; of the eccentric scholar. Minor's story elicits our sympathy, despite his criminal acts."
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
Monday, 22 September 2008
Being a country boy I used to shoot all the time until I got into 'right-on' music (lame vegan pop-punk mostly) when I was fifteen and decided it was wrong. I don't think it is wrong anymore, not because I think animals need to be culled so much as it's clearly a lot of fun culling them, and they're only fucking rabbits right? Who gives a fuck about them? We didn't get any animals this time but we shook up some cans of bitter and shot the shit out of them, which in hindsight looks kind of dull on video given the CGI special effects and explosions in today's major Hollywood blockbusters, but it was still a good time.
I don't know why we took our tops off...
...but it felt really good.
Making the Police uniform more overtly aggressive, by dressing them up as Stormtroopers with combat trousers, big lace-up boots and a gun, is a dangerous game. Sure, it scares fassies like me, but then I don’t really break the law anyway…. But for the hardened criminals and hoodies it’s really aimed, it really only ups the ante in the aggression stakes and probably makes them more excited about the prospect of shanking an alpha male cop.
The way to tackle this is the make the most of the only guys who are still truly intimidating these days, but not in a particularly violent way, i.e. those huge hairy, beefcake, raving homosexuals you see with nipple clamps and vests around Vauxhall or on flyers for gay sex shops in Soho. I think this new tack of enforcing police control through utilizing the latent homophobia in everyone is possibly one of the most psychologically advanced ideas ever to have been exhibited by a policeforce. I can’t imagine anything else so guaranteed to paralyse a rudeboy with fear than the vision of a softly-spoken, near naked man, wearing big leather pants, stroking a truncheon advancing upon them at 2 in the morning. This policeman on Regent Street was so intimidating that no one would come near him. Not even cars. What a well engineered plan.
Friday, 19 September 2008
Thursday, 18 September 2008
These are pretty much the worst items of sportswear I've ever seen, who'd wear a camp TV character's torso on their head? It doesn't make sense! And who'd be Robin? I suppose this would work really well if it was a gay thing (couples could wear them, it would be cool, it goes without saying the guy who takes it would be Robin), but it's probably going to be a Bathing Ape moron thing, which is going to be funny. I can't wait to see one of these bopping around Soho on the head of some silly boy listening to jazzy hip hop and wearing cartoon shoes. For people who look like clowns, those guys are always so dull when you actually have to hang out with them (nine months of Size? was enough for me), they always have dry girlfriends and pension plans and they do 3D graffiti on their computers.
will know that i have a fondness for Sky Sports News' Alex Quinn. A delightful gal who gives out hores racing tips in the morning, as well as reading out the remainder of the day's sporting priorities. Unbeleivably she still languishes on early morning Sky tv while that Manchild of a lesbian who 'does the horses' on BBC One seems to be all over the TV these days...
Anyway, I hadn't watched much Sky Sports News recently, until I caught a glimpse of her this morning. Seems she must have enjoyed her summer a bit too much. Hopefully she'll spend a bit more time taking part in sport instead of sitting on her (increasingly large) arse and just talking about the stuff.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Radio 5 presenter and well-known twat Richard Bacon has been somehow landed the job of reporting for the BBC from within the Obama camp on election night.
Hopefully it will lead to more gems like this:
Monday, 15 September 2008
You know that thing where you repeat a word so much it doesn't even sound like a word anymore, or make sense anymore?
This feature on the evolution of the Adidas ZX series is pretty much the equivalent. But in trainers. I don't even know if I like any of them anymore, they all look exactly the same to me now.
I had this conversation at the weekend with a few friends and it made me realise how pointless comedy music is.
Fact is, music matures with age, and sometimes gets better the more times you hear it. But I have NEVER heard a joke that gets better the more i heard it. (Apart maybe from that one about the Pope and Maddie McCann... that one gets me every time).
If you hear a joke more than 2 times, it becomes what's known as an 'old joke', therefore not funny. Listening to a 3 minute long joke is painful, and 'the joke' gets 'old' very quickly... There is no way you are even going to watch the youtube clip above the whole way through so why would you consider buying a comedy album and listening to the whole 60 minutes over and over again? You're not. Therefore, comedy music is pointless.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Anyway, here's a funny list I didn't write:
Hello Porn Industry,
I have compiled this list of porn movie titles that I think will be interesting to see put into life, but I will not get my hopes up.
1. Not tonight dear
An incredible hot housewife is dressed in her sexy night outfit. Husband is eager and erected, but she got a headache and only want to sleep. He has to jerk off on the toilet.
2. We protect 18 year old virgins
4 big black men with big cocks and big muscles patrol the suburban streets in order to make sure that 18 year old virgins get safely home from their dates without losing their precious flower.
3. Let´s talk about sex
A young couple want to have sex, but the girl is not sure. They discuss it for a long time before they decide to just cuddle. Cameo appearance from the parents of the couple.
4. It´s enough boys
Cute girl wants to try a gangbang for the first time. 5 athletic men with big equipment turn up. She hesitates at first, but gets into it after a while. But then, just before the guys are about to cum she decides that “it´s enough” and she asks the boys to go back home.
5. Lets fuck teens who look like grandmothers!
18 and 19 year old teens who dress conservatively and look very mature for their age get down and dirty in this movie.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Keane vs. Vieira
(Wait till the end when Vieira has to shake all the United players' hands, Gary Neville's 'death stare' is genius.)
Keane vs. Alf-Inge Håland
I'm not gay or anything, but how fucking good is the Grease soundtrack? In fact, the whole movie itself is pretty great. I'd have loved to be in the T-Birds, although I can't imagine myself getting along with that guy with all the acne. It would probably have come to a head one day and I'd have tried to beat him up but he'd definitely kick the shit out of me and I'd have to leave the gang. Still, so long as I got to finger one of those slutty girls who were on our jocks all the time I'd have been pretty chuffed. Check out how great the title track is. How long until some weak-ass rapper "samples" this Frankie Valli song?
Frankie Valli - Grease (Right-Click to Download)
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Here is Mr Ben Rayner sharing his eggs with other hung over chaps and ladies. This led me to investigate the hang over qualities of the humble EGG. Turns out people are meant to eat eggs RAW to kill a hangover. This leads me to bring up this whole 'salmonella' issue... Is it just one big load of shite that raw eggs are bad for you? Because last time i checked body builders scoff raw eggs, egg nog is raw eggs and grannies down it, and now the Independent are telling me to eat them to kill my hangover. It is egg related madness. Apparently raw pork is great for headaches...
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
I nearly didn’t post this because it’s so hard to get across through either an accompanying picture or youtube video the EXACT noise of what I’m talking about here, even though you’ll know just what I mean….
You know that noise when old people open their mouths, but it’s not just their mouth their opening, it’s like they’re licking the whole inside of their mouth, and it’s all really dry, but also really wet, all at the same time?? You know, the one that’s only beaten in the annoying stakes by when old people do it JUST before they talk, EVERY time they talk??
(my theory on it is that once old people start talking louder than the rest of society they must notice that everyone gets a shock when they start talking/shouting - which can’t be a very nice feeling - so I reckon they do this just to warn the world not to be alarmed by what’s about to happen)
Anyway, I’ve been pretty bored today and have started doing this before I talk, every time I talk, and personally I’ve found it hilarious. The next time I’m stuck next to someone I want to escape from I’m pretty sure this tactic will work a treat.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
These are all dusty and blue, the blue flavour is gross and the dust gets all over your hands, it must be powdered sugar but it's still annoying, the rest of it is kind of chewy but ultimately dull. There's not much fun to be had with these ones either, I suppose you could throw them if you really had to. Not off to a great start, but there's still time...
These are teeth, which is great, as you can put them in your mouth and wear them as your own teeth, although they don't fit on perfectly, i would improve these by changing the mould in the factory to allow for someone to wear them, make them hollow. They taste fine but that's not the point with these ones.
These are bits of what seems to be tough marshmallow covered in a sort of strawberry flavoured sugar. They taste pretty good, all these sweets seem to have more emphasis on texture than taste though, the way the the marshmallow contrasts with the gritty sugar is where the real action is.
Like real eggs, the yolk is the tasty part, and the white is kind of just for texture but still intrinsic to the experience as a whole. The yolk is really tangy and would totally be too much on its own, the white acts as a sort of buffer that dilutes the flavours and has a softer, matt texture.
Black Jacks taste like shit, they're liquorice-y and bitter, Fruit Salads are way better, one half is pink and the other yellow but I couldn't work out if the two halves tasted different at all. the nice thing about these in terms of fun is that they are good to chew and get stuck in your teeth, also flattening out the waxy wrapping and making little paper aeroplanes is fun.
This is made of the same stuff as the fried egg, but it's bigger and looks like a skull, I bit the eyes out, which was fun, the eyes are really tangy like the egg yolks (except a bit more red tasting, if you get my meaning?) and again the skull/egg white stuff acted as a diluter. These and the fried eggs work like Muller Fruit Corners, as in, the yogurt is too bland on its own and the fruit is too tart on its own, but together they compliment each other perfectly.
I'm going to try this again when I get to a place with a bigger and more exotic Pick and Mix selection, this was all at some shop on Charing Cross Road that also sold bootleg London merchandise (is there even official London merchandise?) so it wasn't exactly specialist. Sometimes you have to make do though.
Monday, 8 September 2008
However, the actual interesting thing about that night that Rhys Ifans' "band" was playing in the main room, and it was the worst thing I ever heard, total shit, but it was also totally brilliant, in that it had every hallmark of a vanity project that anyone could possibly think of. Let's look at the facts:
1. Someone who I think was his non-famous brother was onstage with him, hoping that finally his famous brother would provide a meal ticket and get him out of Bumfuckgthwainddwellthynlleth (or whichever Welsh shit-hole town he's forced to live in while his brother fucks babes and bathes in milk etc).
2. There were about 15 people onstage with him, and they were all really good at their instruments and obviously session gimps, but he mainly did nothing but copy Ian Brown badly.
3. He also barely sang, there was a black gospel singer and another bloke on guitar who did that, he mainly did the Ian Brown thing with a trilby pulled over his eyes like the lamest old-guy-being-indie you've ever seen in the Good Mixer.
4. There was 'friendly banter' onstage, but basically all the other musicians did was laugh nervously at Rhys's poor gags. More meal ticket behaviour all round.
5. Halfway through the set Rhys held up a piece of cardboard with 'NEED TO FIND PLACE TO STAY FOR 9 BAND MEMBERS TONIGHT'. Like he doesn't have a fucking place to stay in London and he's going to slum it with some douchebag who goes to Push on the regular.
6. The lyrics were laughable, sub-Oasis nursery rhyme shit that meant nothing at all and that could only have been approved if the people approving it were arse-licking yes-men who Rhys was buying coke for.
7. The music was really boring dad-rock that sounded like he'd gone to the head session guy "i want it to be a bit Primal Scream, a bit Stone Roses and a bit Super Furries, cos that's what I really love, I'm really into music, I always have been.." and the session guy was like "yeah, it'll take me an afternoon to knock it together, but first, where is the money?".
8. Rhys Ifans is a cunt.
The other thing was that the place was so empty that I could literally walk up to the stage, take these photos and stroll back upstairs without knocking into a single person at all. Because, the only people who like movie stars enough to go and see them do something that isn't a movie are dumb bitches who listen to top 40 music and the kind of people who listen to the music that Rhys Ifans thinks he's making think all movie stars are total fags. THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK RHYS, GIVE UP NOW!
Saturday, 6 September 2008
The guy at 3:06 on this one is fantastic.
This is so far from the shit MTV do now, like Cribs.
I used to love watching The Grind on MTV when it was on years ago. It was like my dream party at the time; as if everyone from Saved by the Bell had scored some pills from Maxx's Diner and then started jacking at a rave on the beach. There are fuck all videos of it on youtube though.