THESE IMPORTANT YEARS
Having taken a sabbatical from all things human and musical for the last three years or so, I knew next to nothing of 99% of the bands playing this year -or, to speak like a English person, "thish year"- and so the festival provided the perfect occasion to catch up with what's going on. Or down. Or up too.
As is usually my wont, I spent more time down the tent than watching the main stage: less crowd and much better sound quality. In fact, a number of my most treasured Reading experiences will have taken place in the tent (most memorably Leatherface, and Dubwar, Underworld, the Wedding Present, Dubstar etc.) Unsurprisingly, the issue of the main stage sound will pop up time and again downbelow.
FRIEND, YOU'VE GOT TO FALL
Tendency of the season: dayglo face paint. Lots of youth were walking around with orange or pink stripes crayoned onto their faces. Many girls also sported sparkly starry make-up around the eyes -very cute. Probably pioneered by Florence outta the Whatevers or Little Boots.
ICE COLD ICE
YOU LEFT ME STANDING IN THE RAIN
Rain -like hope in life- was mercifully episodic; the sun shone most of the weekend.
Talking of tradition, whatever happened to the old Reading Fest competition for the most offensive t-shirt? What happened to the "John Peel Is A C*nt", "Hate Hate Hate", "Find 'em F*ck 'em and Flee" (an Ice-T title), "Ars*nal FC", "Anal C*nt" or "this man" (arrow to the left) "likes c*ck" tops of yore? Gone. Disappeared. Unless you count "pennies for whores" as something to be tut-tutted in which case you really should write for The Independent. This being said, I did see a youth sporting a magnificent hand-painted orange "AIDS" on his forehead -the cheeky rascal!! Also spotted: a girly with "Kev's bitch" on her forehead -lucky Kevin. The usual "it's not gonna suck itself", "The Man" (arrow up) "The Legend" (arrow down). The M*n*c Street Pr**ch*rs.
Battle of the t-shirts: no clear winner here (surprisingly few FaithNoMore in fact); quite a number of Radioheads. Here are some of the best I spotted:
The Stranglers; Kansas; "Pull the trigger bitch"; "Lost 8 kilos in two weeks -bloody sniffer dog."
Tellingly, a number of sweatshirts celebrating the graduation of some school or another "Class of 09"; Flight of the Conchords;
but the best one had to be Olympique Lyonnais as sported by a dashing 50something inbetweener who may well be half-robotic by now but who stills remembers whence he once came. And where l'OL leads, others follow. Saturday being footy day, a number of revellers took to sporting their team's colour, most notably United: the 18 times English / twice world / four times European champions were in action that day. (Which reminds me: I didn't get to hear the final scores, does anyone know who they beat that afternoon? huh?)
I enjoyed the sight of lads dressed a giant hamburgers. (And superheroes, but that's less fun -there is a costume shop nearby).
People buy cameraphones not to take pictures of others but of themselves.
-Saw a bit of The Living End, all the way from Australia (like "hooway the loods on the toon, moote!!" or something): blimey, they can't half play can they! The guitarist reminded me of Josh Homme embarking on a ten minute solo a few years back. (By da way, someone else who is a sh*t-hot guitarist: ....Wyclef Jean. Word.) Oh yeah, something-I-learnt-at-Reading: apparently, Josh Homme was going out with Cristina Martinez which begs the question: has she divorced from Jon Spencer then??
No bird in the sky, young lady with "I heart c*ck" on the leg -promises promises...
Fish and chips for seven quid; 5,50 ten meters further down. A pint of beer? 3,85.
-The View Aka The Scottish Arctic Monkeys (you caennae understand a wee word the soft shite was saying). That bunch of 16 yr olds are supposed to hail from Dundee right? So you won't hear a bad word against them from me, bless their cotton socks. (Still eh, your man's got craep ta'ts oh aye.)
-Was awaiting Glasvegas with loiguesque trepidation (i.e. world weary boredom as opposed to the usual existential despair) and... they were ok. Ranging from pretty good to excellent but then we tend to approve of bequiffed men in black so we do. The singer the spitting image of a young Joe Strummer with surprising ripped biceps (fancy that, he dropped the leather jacket in favour of a sleeveless T midway through :-)) One thing though, the Mo Truckeresque drumming might get a bit grating after a while (your woman made Meg White sound like Kamen/Copeland/Katche).
-The Horrr'rs. They were OK I s'pose. Disappointed with regards to their half excellent recent album.
NO RESERVATIONS
-Caught two songs by Ian Brown. Ten years later, the man is still off tune.
-Five minutes of Florence and the Machines: had seen five minutes of hers at Glasto' and hadn't exactly been convinced. I am still not. (Banal drivel that makes the Kaiser Chiefs come across as Captain Beefheart or am I missing the point one more time?)
-Little Boots. Now I have a lot of respect for anyone able to play any instrument -let alone several at the same time- but when I see the OTT reviews about miss Boots... ??? The stuff I heard was good, sure, but nothing outstanding per se; it also appears that she has an army of songwriters behind her. Anyway, what about her gig: it - was - thrilling. All the pop kids -especially female- were singing along and going mental like a robot from 1984, real heartwarming stuff. Her frankly banal cover of Moroder's "Love Kills" was hailed as a masterpiece and her yoke about "take you home tonight - make you feel alright" (check the lyrics man! that's genius that.) was met with nothing less than rapture. Uplifting stuff, smiles all to here all round.
-Jamie T. Featuring right before FaithNoMan's great return, I had predicted that he would suffer, faced with a "less than captive" audience (we remember Uncle Nick facing a barrage of "Nir-va-na Nir-va-na Nir-va-na!!"). ...How wrong was I!
First of all, I had never even heard of that guy/girl's existence, so once again (see opening remark), I was totally open-minded about he/she had to offer. Then I got told that he was not a hundred miles away from The Streets -not the most promising of premises- and "very popular with students". Now there's nothing wrong with students writes Loig: it is thanks to them that you can drink heavily subsidised beer while pretending to be a visiting foreign professor. ...Or so I've been told. Anyway, on came your man and the place heated up ten degrees instantly: massive ovation before he even opened his mouth. Absolutely brilliant atmosphere with the kids chanting along every song from beginning to end -really impressive. The material itself I couldn't quite judge (the kids were singing so loudly!) but it sounded okayish I guess: echoes of Billy Bragg and Carter USM maybe. Not too sure about the ciggie planted inside the ear (inside the ear); had never seen that before, not even with confirmed cancerologists like Uncle Nick or Barack Obama.
Their eyes flicker, they agree intermittently to anything you say and then they go "no offence mate but there's some place I've goddago".
-And on to FaithNoMore. How different the vibe was! I had a quick look at the NME review the next day and it was -like- ecstatic blahblahblah but I'm afraid I will beg to differ: it was nowhere near the one for "local" acts such as Jamie T, Little Boots or Florence. The Americans did their best to batter us into submission but... I found it no more than satisfying. Very professional (i.e. well rehearsed), as I felt with other American acts as diverse as Susan Vega, RedHotChiliPeppers or even Fugazi: n.e.a.t. stuff. Listening to your man haranguing the crowd, I would have been ready to bet that he would offer the same quips to the Leeds audience the next day. (Did you ever hear the story about someone going to see Patti Smith in concert and being amazed by Patti's profound one-liners; your woman decides there and then to follow P. S. on tour ...and every night is subjected to the exact same pearls of wisdom in the exact same order.) Listing-wise, they did everything: "easy", "be aggressive", "midnight cowboy", "caffeine", "be aggressive", "from out of nowhere", the silky sexy one off "King etc.", "be aggressive", "land of sunshine", "last cup of sorrow", "be aggressive", "I started a joke", etc.
As expected, they peppered their midsong breaks with wacky cover versions. I remembered them doing "Twin Peaks" and Portishead back in the days, this time it was.... "Eastenders" (ROTFLOL!!!!!1 etc.) and twice too. Mike Patton -still an impressive vocalist- seems to have developed a limp, Roddy is a Gay.
COULD YOU BE THE ONE
-The 'Ctics. Was after watching Glasvegas so missed half of it. Well it was... good to be sure, but I sensed a certain lack of warmth from yr man. Every now and then, he would slur: "Hey... (pause) Reading. 'You still with ooz?" which didn't quite ooze enthusiasm, gay abandon and reciprocated love. (Was he a wee bit inebriated, by the way?) Some of the new songs were quite gorgeous and I have no doubt that the new album will be another masterpiece, once again different from the previous one, once again surprisingly mature for such a young man. Some great extended versions of old favourites ("fluo ado") which is always a bonus, I mean: what's the point of reciprocating the album note perfect on stage? The punters might as well stay home and play the record in the comfort of their bedroom right? Right. (And that will also spare the said punter the pleasure of being stuck next to a fatarse rabbitting her mouth off for the duration of a gig -nuff said.) ....Wasn't too enamoured with his new long hair though, makes our Alex look a bit scruffy purses his lips Loig.
SHE FLOATED AWAY
-Fall Out Boy: now I may have missed the boat entirely but, in my mind's eye, Fall Out Boy was some kind of L.A.M.T.V. U. S. F.M. safe mainstream glitzy shit (the guy is with Jessica Simpson/Nikki Hilton or some such luminary) ...turns out they are massive. Massive with the Reading Festival crowd: hundreds of people moshing about and singing along etc. Huh. I have an album somewhere ...maybe I should try to locate it again. Dreadful sound though: gusts of winds constantly swinging it from side to side.
-The Kaiser Chiefs came on to the sound of Dire Straits "Money For Nothing". Sadly, they then switched off the intro tape and started playing themselves.
-Moving on to the Prodigy. Another genuinely massive band, another dreadful sound: the crowd was chanting "turn it up, turn it up" but, really, there's not much that could be done due to the swirling wind. Nodding his hairy head appreciatively to the Proge backstage was... Dave Grohl in person. (Did the Grohlster put in a cameo for the encore? I wasn't there anymore.)
-Placebo did their Placebo thing. "Here is a Buddhist song..." -eight minutes of yelping proto indie F.M. glitter workout follows.
-Another band which I had never heard of and which went down like a storm: the Macchabes (is that a play on French words? "les macabés" means "les morts"). Jangly guitar singalong teenage manic pop thrill -really, The Wedding Present and The Woodentops should sue for royalties.
-Had been recommended this one: Friendly Fires. Who said middle class white boys can't funk? Inverted racists inverted snobs that's who. The FfffffFires funked like mad and here the inevitable reference to Talking Heads will rear its 80s head. Great craic, part XCVIIIIIII. The Observer calls them "the band of the summer".
Sunday: popped in at the start of the afternoon then went back home after a while: there is only so much twenty year olds you can take in before feeling clinically depressed. Besides I had to catch up with the rest of this highly amusing Japanese movie which I was after watching; it's called "C*cktoppers" -sorry, "ClockStoppers"- in which your man comes up with a way of "freezing" people around him -with hilaaaarious consequences as he reassembles their limbs in compromising positions and has his evil beastly way with unaware nymphets, oh I guess you had to be there, the subtleties may be lost in translation like -great craic all the same.
-Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Bloc Party and Radiohead all in one go: my attention was, er, somewhat focussed elsewhere so I may not have been completely receptive... Great stuff all of them let's say.
Karen O seemed determined to show off the most hideous clothes known to man; she pretty much succeeded. Her band was surprisingly dance oriented -must remember to check their latest stuff (having stopped at the album featuring "Maps").
Kele-Block has grown some fairly tasty biceps. "Tommy Yorke has just turend up backstage and he looks like he means business!"
True to the reputation f*cken bores endow him with ("oh Radiohead they're so miserab'le blah blah blah po faced politckalcorekness gone mad Lily Allen Gazza top birds -enjoy!- Becks Posh she's so ugly holiday at Naya Apia lapdancing clubs "Hello" magazine poor Diana did you catch "Hollyoaks" lass night?") Thom phroved himself to bhe a rhight lhittle schamp: cf. his cheeky wink at the camera magnified a hundred thousand times on the big screens. Crazy Yorke dance moves too man!
What else: I received a glass full of Cologne on the side of the head during the gig lobbed from behind which was -like- hilaaarious: I was almost knocked out, some got into my eye and then I stank to high heaven. (PS: Huge facial scar this morning.)
And you know you have to savour every second of this precious moment, commit it to memory and seal it there cos' it will never happen again.
TURN IT AROUND
S'leb S'pot! No back rub by Sarah "St-Eti*nne" Bracknell this time: didn't really see anyone in the guest area apart from Jack Penate (reader's voice: -who he? Exactly.), Simon Price (didn't know that f*ckw*nk still lived), and your man from that yoke. The universally acknowledged "King Of Pop" (TM) remained sadly elusive, even though he should be in the area shouldn't he?(I hear he's about to embark on a series of 50 dates in one month in London.)
In short (LOL!!!!!1 etc.).
We are liking:
-girls' noses
-fit lads with no top on (but they have to be fit eh)
-"The National Anthem"-Radiohead ("je suis parti seul, completement seul")/ "There There" (I took the glass off her hands as I sensed the lads were about to thrash about and she was able to cope with the mosh)
-the ability to pop back home every now and then
-the news of Oasis's demise. (Not that it makes any difference though: the Dickhead Brothers are bound to release more stuff under N.E. other name.)
-overhearing Dutch girlj chat yeah -like... totally gelig!
-the tw*t from K*iser Chi*fs attempting to climb on the side of the stage all of three feet. And getting stuck there.
-FNM and Radiohead t-shirts -very street
-the crackdown on ticket touts scumbags
-The Go! Team (who didn't play)
-Husker Du (idem)
-Faithless (bis repetita); when oh when will we have Rammstein: perfect Sunday night headliner
-being able to stick to my 20 Pound a day budget (cue: I ate a lot of chips)
YOU CAN LIVE AT HOME NOW
Enough for now. Next instalment:
the Oscars with 'Strickland next year -sorry, nexht year- for "Katalin Varga" as best foreign filum. "Katalin Varga" is out worldwide on the 9th of October.
The great thing about writing this kind of stuff is that nobody reads it til the end so you can afford to let rip or open up, noone will notice: god this is all so pointless. Thanks to Uma for the use of her bandwidth.
Monday 31 August 2009
Wednesday 15 July 2009
Modern Parlance
-"smug" = someone more intelligent than the speaker
in the same ballpark,
-"arrogant" = a winner
-"I'm not quite sure" = I simply don't know
-"annoying" = intense
-""po faced" = serious
-it's to longg!!" = anything over ten lines
-"pretentious" = cultured, arty
to be continued no doubt!
in the same ballpark,
-"arrogant" = a winner
-"I'm not quite sure" = I simply don't know
-"annoying" = intense
-""po faced" = serious
-it's to longg!!" = anything over ten lines
-"pretentious" = cultured, arty
to be continued no doubt!
Monday 13 July 2009
Thank you.
-First of all, please bear in mind that this blog has to be read, er, backwards as it were: with the latest instalments appearing at the top of the page.
Thankfully the various chapters have been dutifully numbered and should be easy to follow chronologically (note to ******: that will be 1, then 2, then 3, and so on; no, the introduction does not come after the epilogue).
-Little explanation here. When I embarked on that project, I was barely able to breathe fully, walk, let alone carry anything -clearly I had to find some occupation/distraction and put my mind to it. Ha! Writing that pi*ce of crap certainly proved therapeutic! ...Anyway, here we are now, it's all of twelve months ago already so it's pretty much ancient history. Kept me occupied for about nine months in all -job's done!
-Finally -and most importantly-, Uma sincerely thanks you for your attention.
To be frank, the whole thing is a bit of a dog's breakfast, it certainly is all over the place and is -more often than not- something of a cringefest -but I like to imagine that it has its moments.
Yep.
Hopefully you (yous?) will be able to discover them and even enjoy them. If you do, don't hesitate to let me know, that would/will be appreciated.
Peace yous all!
Thankfully the various chapters have been dutifully numbered and should be easy to follow chronologically (note to ******: that will be 1, then 2, then 3, and so on; no, the introduction does not come after the epilogue).
-Little explanation here. When I embarked on that project, I was barely able to breathe fully, walk, let alone carry anything -clearly I had to find some occupation/distraction and put my mind to it. Ha! Writing that pi*ce of crap certainly proved therapeutic! ...Anyway, here we are now, it's all of twelve months ago already so it's pretty much ancient history. Kept me occupied for about nine months in all -job's done!
-Finally -and most importantly-, Uma sincerely thanks you for your attention.
To be frank, the whole thing is a bit of a dog's breakfast, it certainly is all over the place and is -more often than not- something of a cringefest -but I like to imagine that it has its moments.
Yep.
Hopefully you (yous?) will be able to discover them and even enjoy them. If you do, don't hesitate to let me know, that would/will be appreciated.
Peace yous all!
Saturday 27 June 2009
they're dropping like flies!
RIP Steven Wells, legendary NME "critic" usually found foaming at the mouth. It's hard to believe it now, in these days when the NME is edited by a twelve year old whose favourite albums are -and I quote- "The Beatles' greatest hits and Nirvana "never mind" (sic)"- but there was once a time when the NME meant something.*
Anyhoo, S. Wells was the one writer a certain someone would always look up first thing on the Weds. morning.
....Quite a few expletives were usually likely to be found during the course of Wells's customary pieces.
Loving dat BigBrother yoke: isn't it unmissable that all of the objects of hate by the inmates come from cultures alien to the English Isles? (quick geographical note here: yes, the island of Ireland is situated in what is officially "the English Isles" so be it)?
Quite clearly, the only original/different/unpredictable inmates here are not English-acclimatised: Shree the Indian and Angel the Russian ...as well as Feckwit the Tory tosser. These two don't have the same references, they don't react the same predictable way, ...these two rock the cosy little boat composed of laaaaads and wanna "WAG"s (god do I hate this word).
Now what about your man you will object? For sure he is English is Feckwit ...but he is also from a different class, from a different viewpoint -and this is precisely why he's hated. Just listen to the actual reasons explicitly offered by that horrid horrid HORRID woman from Beuuuuuuuurmingham. Her likes resent him not so much because he's a tosser -which he undoubtedly is (it's so easy being idealistic and a would-be hippie when you're a millionaire)- ...but because he is different. Because he is culchured (check out the musical references on show here: they're quite telling.)
And we can't possibly have that can we.
Now then.
My other half (but he's a creep) forces me to mention the death of Farrah Fawcett (RIP) and quips my other half:
"there's been a lot of talk today about your man who was supposed to be so good to children and so forth but let me tell you... Farrah Fawcett -ha!-, she certainly gave me much more pleasure as a young boy growing up!"
...I am sure this must mean something.
Current expression we like: "I'm not sure..."
...It basically means "I don't know".
Stay kewl yous all!
*'musingly, Conor Something resigned his position that very day! ...to go and edit -you'll love this- the Daily Heil's polluporno mag "Top Gear". H'a!
Anyhoo, S. Wells was the one writer a certain someone would always look up first thing on the Weds. morning.
....Quite a few expletives were usually likely to be found during the course of Wells's customary pieces.
Loving dat BigBrother yoke: isn't it unmissable that all of the objects of hate by the inmates come from cultures alien to the English Isles? (quick geographical note here: yes, the island of Ireland is situated in what is officially "the English Isles" so be it)?
Quite clearly, the only original/different/unpredictable inmates here are not English-acclimatised: Shree the Indian and Angel the Russian ...as well as Feckwit the Tory tosser. These two don't have the same references, they don't react the same predictable way, ...these two rock the cosy little boat composed of laaaaads and wanna "WAG"s (god do I hate this word).
Now what about your man you will object? For sure he is English is Feckwit ...but he is also from a different class, from a different viewpoint -and this is precisely why he's hated. Just listen to the actual reasons explicitly offered by that horrid horrid HORRID woman from Beuuuuuuuurmingham. Her likes resent him not so much because he's a tosser -which he undoubtedly is (it's so easy being idealistic and a would-be hippie when you're a millionaire)- ...but because he is different. Because he is culchured (check out the musical references on show here: they're quite telling.)
And we can't possibly have that can we.
Now then.
My other half (but he's a creep) forces me to mention the death of Farrah Fawcett (RIP) and quips my other half:
"there's been a lot of talk today about your man who was supposed to be so good to children and so forth but let me tell you... Farrah Fawcett -ha!-, she certainly gave me much more pleasure as a young boy growing up!"
...I am sure this must mean something.
Current expression we like: "I'm not sure..."
...It basically means "I don't know".
Stay kewl yous all!
*'musingly, Conor Something resigned his position that very day! ...to go and edit -you'll love this- the Daily Heil's polluporno mag "Top Gear". H'a!
Thursday 18 June 2009
A Frank Disclosure
Uma, in keeping with the MPs' latest bold move, has decided to come clean and will be completely frank: in these post 911 neo-Credit Crunch days she needs to be absolutely clear -literally- and send a strong message as well as a clear signal -like, totally-: she will admit to all her demeanours. All of them. Let's wipe the state (state??) slate clean and turn the page once and for all in these sad times where polit'calcorectness has gone mad and out of control so it has!
So here we go:
yes, I admit it, I did ******** -there, I said it. I did ***** **** *******, I did **** **** ******, I got ****** *** ********* *** ******* (Shabba!), I **** ******** ****, I **** ****
and I also ***** *** with *****, ****, whipped cream and strawberries (oh the smell...).
OK, I **** the ********: I committed it twice, and even ********* **** *** once (pity the dog if you will!)
Now If I need to address these ugly ugly ugly rumours that have redefined the term "baseless" and plagued me for as long as I can remember, I'll hold my hand up. I'm not afraid to address the question:
yes, it is true that I ********** a******************.
Just the one time or two (three in fact). I did.
But -and let me be absolutely clear on this as well as completely frank- it was only as a ****** ******** for me **** ***********, and not perfectly straight up the ******* ********!
I also ****** a ******* **** ***** at a ************% rate more than once (eight in total I think, over the course of ***** ********* so come on, gizzas a break).
What else,
oh yes I did get ************* ********* in the ********* ***** *** -this is a fact ...I am not too proud about it to be honest but it did happen. It did happen. But before yous all go judgemental, let me ask yous this. Let me ask you right?: put yourself in me shoes. Put yourself in me shoe and maintaining position, tell me frank. Tell me straight: what else would yous smarty pants have done eh?
Eh?
Right. So there.
Let he who shall cast a stone exit his glass house first.
Also.
(Might as well let it all out.)
Yes, I ****** **** *******.
Yes, I ************.
Yes, I **** ** ******** ******** ( and I even enjoyed it :-(( ).
Yes, I **** ********* **** a ****** ****** standing up against the **************** on the 1*th of M**ch 19** and got ***** ****** ***** right in the ******* *******.
As for disgraceful rumours of me ********** ************ ******* into a **************, all I can say is that they are grossly exaggerated! I only ********** *********** ************** ***** down the *************** ********** *************** with ******, ******, vinegar, ******, a vacuum cleaner, ******* **** -or so I thought at the time. Jaysus for crying out loud I was young and naive so I was, I only aimed to please!
Serves me right for being all candid and shite.
Finally I **************** *** *** ************* *********** *** ****** ** a dozen times at the most, no more . ************* ***** **** ****** the ***************************** *** or ********** ***** ****************** *** ** "woof woof!" ****** ******* ********* ** ** * ************** ******* *** ** (ouch) ************************************************** ************ ************************ ************* parsley and thine ********************************************************* a ************************************************ ***.
Did I really ***************** (hubba hubba!) *** ********* **** Des Lynam (oops) ********** ******** + ***** ************** ******? Read - my - lips: absolutely not!
********** **********, Richie McCaw, Norman Lamont, Harvey Keitel, ****** *******, Scarlett Johansson, Penelope Cruz, ****** ************, Julian Clary, T*m C**se, J*hn T*******a, ******** *********, the office janitor, ***** **********, ***** *****, Anne Wyddecombe, ******* *********?
Maybe. But only in passing. Only affectionately like.
Finally, **************************** ****** ******* ** ****************************
******************************************* ***************'s ********************* ***************************************************************** ************* ************ ***************************** ****** *************************** ************************************************************* * ***************** has to be my greatest shame (long sigh)
...but what 'you gonna do about it! What's done is done; the broom was there, it had to be put to good use.
So there yous are, dear friends. All done.
Ah, feel much better!
So here we go:
yes, I admit it, I did ******** -there, I said it. I did ***** **** *******, I did **** **** ******, I got ****** *** ********* *** ******* (Shabba!), I **** ******** ****, I **** ****
and I also ***** *** with *****, ****, whipped cream and strawberries (oh the smell...).
OK, I **** the ********: I committed it twice, and even ********* **** *** once (pity the dog if you will!)
Now If I need to address these ugly ugly ugly rumours that have redefined the term "baseless" and plagued me for as long as I can remember, I'll hold my hand up. I'm not afraid to address the question:
yes, it is true that I ********** a******************.
Just the one time or two (three in fact). I did.
But -and let me be absolutely clear on this as well as completely frank- it was only as a ****** ******** for me **** ***********, and not perfectly straight up the ******* ********!
I also ****** a ******* **** ***** at a ************% rate more than once (eight in total I think, over the course of ***** ********* so come on, gizzas a break).
What else,
oh yes I did get ************* ********* in the ********* ***** *** -this is a fact ...I am not too proud about it to be honest but it did happen. It did happen. But before yous all go judgemental, let me ask yous this. Let me ask you right?: put yourself in me shoes. Put yourself in me shoe and maintaining position, tell me frank. Tell me straight: what else would yous smarty pants have done eh?
Eh?
Right. So there.
Let he who shall cast a stone exit his glass house first.
Also.
(Might as well let it all out.)
Yes, I ****** **** *******.
Yes, I ************.
Yes, I **** ** ******** ******** ( and I even enjoyed it :-(( ).
Yes, I **** ********* **** a ****** ****** standing up against the **************** on the 1*th of M**ch 19** and got ***** ****** ***** right in the ******* *******.
As for disgraceful rumours of me ********** ************ ******* into a **************, all I can say is that they are grossly exaggerated! I only ********** *********** ************** ***** down the *************** ********** *************** with ******, ******, vinegar, ******, a vacuum cleaner, ******* **** -or so I thought at the time. Jaysus for crying out loud I was young and naive so I was, I only aimed to please!
Serves me right for being all candid and shite.
Finally I **************** *** *** ************* *********** *** ****** ** a dozen times at the most, no more . ************* ***** **** ****** the ***************************** *** or ********** ***** ****************** *** ** "woof woof!" ****** ******* ********* ** ** * ************** ******* *** ** (ouch) ************************************************** ************ ************************ ************* parsley and thine ********************************************************* a ************************************************ ***.
Did I really ***************** (hubba hubba!) *** ********* **** Des Lynam (oops) ********** ******** + ***** ************** ******? Read - my - lips: absolutely not!
********** **********, Richie McCaw, Norman Lamont, Harvey Keitel, ****** *******, Scarlett Johansson, Penelope Cruz, ****** ************, Julian Clary, T*m C**se, J*hn T*******a, ******** *********, the office janitor, ***** **********, ***** *****, Anne Wyddecombe, ******* *********?
Maybe. But only in passing. Only affectionately like.
Finally, **************************** ****** ******* ** ****************************
******************************************* ***************'s ********************* ***************************************************************** ************* ************ ***************************** ****** *************************** ************************************************************* * ***************** has to be my greatest shame (long sigh)
...but what 'you gonna do about it! What's done is done; the broom was there, it had to be put to good use.
So there yous are, dear friends. All done.
Ah, feel much better!
Monday 15 June 2009
Books Books Books
-just about anything by Don DeLillo, my favourite living US writer -DeLillo has understood everything about modern life; start with "White Noise" "Mao II"
-in the goes-without-saying category: Brett Easton Ellis / Chuck Palahniuk / Michel Houellebecq / Douglas Coupland / Paul Auster / Irvine Welsh
-Marguerite Duras (my favourite French writer) -but I don't know how she translates
-my personal hero Boris Vian -he was everything
-the -like- Dub, alcohol fuelled, B. Vian Flann o'Brien
-Alain Robbe-Grillet
-the admirable John Steinbeck "Cannery Row" "Tortilla Flat"
-the admirable George Orwell (did me thesis on him so I did!) "The Road To Wigan Pier"
-Faulkner (I like me Southern Gothic me)
-talking of, Paddy mcCabe
-Martin Amis "Money" "Time's Arrow" "Dead Babies"
-Fielding "Tom Jones" / Sterne "Tristram Shandy"
-Phil K. Dick
-Louis de Bernieres
-Jane Austen
-Jimmy Baldwin: "The Fire Next Time"
-Pierre Prevert / Raymond Queneau / Marcel Ayme
-"l'Honneur perdu de Pedonzigues"
-probably the most imaginative novel I came across: "The Book Of Danish Dreams"-Peter Hoegh
-John Irving (for ex. "The Cider House Rules")
-Dickens
-Kundera
-could never really get into Murakami though; read 3 of his always critically acclaimed novels but... it doesn't sound right.
-Zadie Smith "White Teeth"
-ABCD Pierre "Vernon God Little"
-Mary Roach "Stiff" -terrific stuff! need to read her latest one ("Bonk" or something)
-seminal study (even though I think he loses it in the 3rd part as he extrapolates the plots onto history in the making as if there were a predetermined / structured movement to history) "The Seven Basic Plots"-Christopher Brooke
-Joyce "Ulysses"
-Carson McCullers
-Pinter, my favourite playwright
-Joseph Heller "Catch 22" "Something Happened"
-frankly... could never get into Updike, I just can't; idem with Roth -I just don't care for his world.
-Russell Banks ("The Rule Of Bones")
-comics: Daniel Clowes ("Ghost World") / Bill Skenkiewicz / Dave McKean / Neil Gaiman ("Signal To Noise" "Cages" etc.)
-comics: the lovely Argentinian "Mafalda"
-comics: Reiser / the abominable Vuillemin
-the extraordinary Pierre Bayard "Who Killed Roger Ackroyd"
-Rimbaud
-"The Moon In The Gutter" -great baroque oddity of a filum too!
-bought but as yet unread: "The Testament Lost In Zaragossa" by this Polish guy
-idem with Bruno Schulz; always meant to get into him
-in the goes-without-saying category: Brett Easton Ellis / Chuck Palahniuk / Michel Houellebecq / Douglas Coupland / Paul Auster / Irvine Welsh
-Marguerite Duras (my favourite French writer) -but I don't know how she translates
-my personal hero Boris Vian -he was everything
-the -like- Dub, alcohol fuelled, B. Vian Flann o'Brien
-Alain Robbe-Grillet
-the admirable John Steinbeck "Cannery Row" "Tortilla Flat"
-the admirable George Orwell (did me thesis on him so I did!) "The Road To Wigan Pier"
-Faulkner (I like me Southern Gothic me)
-talking of, Paddy mcCabe
-Martin Amis "Money" "Time's Arrow" "Dead Babies"
-Fielding "Tom Jones" / Sterne "Tristram Shandy"
-Phil K. Dick
-Louis de Bernieres
-Jane Austen
-Jimmy Baldwin: "The Fire Next Time"
-Pierre Prevert / Raymond Queneau / Marcel Ayme
-"l'Honneur perdu de Pedonzigues"
-probably the most imaginative novel I came across: "The Book Of Danish Dreams"-Peter Hoegh
-John Irving (for ex. "The Cider House Rules")
-Dickens
-Kundera
-could never really get into Murakami though; read 3 of his always critically acclaimed novels but... it doesn't sound right.
-Zadie Smith "White Teeth"
-ABCD Pierre "Vernon God Little"
-Mary Roach "Stiff" -terrific stuff! need to read her latest one ("Bonk" or something)
-seminal study (even though I think he loses it in the 3rd part as he extrapolates the plots onto history in the making as if there were a predetermined / structured movement to history) "The Seven Basic Plots"-Christopher Brooke
-Joyce "Ulysses"
-Carson McCullers
-Pinter, my favourite playwright
-Joseph Heller "Catch 22" "Something Happened"
-frankly... could never get into Updike, I just can't; idem with Roth -I just don't care for his world.
-Russell Banks ("The Rule Of Bones")
-comics: Daniel Clowes ("Ghost World") / Bill Skenkiewicz / Dave McKean / Neil Gaiman ("Signal To Noise" "Cages" etc.)
-comics: the lovely Argentinian "Mafalda"
-comics: Reiser / the abominable Vuillemin
-the extraordinary Pierre Bayard "Who Killed Roger Ackroyd"
-Rimbaud
-"The Moon In The Gutter" -great baroque oddity of a filum too!
-bought but as yet unread: "The Testament Lost In Zaragossa" by this Polish guy
-idem with Bruno Schulz; always meant to get into him
Thursday 11 June 2009
a little fantaisie...
I am so tired and I can't see much further right now. Can't face the prospect of work tamara.
But the beauty of the Net is that -unfailingly- there'll be something, somewhere, that will tickle (my) fancy! Something to inspire and distract (me/you), something to make (me/you) bounce back. It's a grand feeling when you(/ I) make that kind of discovery...
Lin'kz!!!!!!!!!!!!1
To paraphrase two recent accute observers of modern American life, here is "some stuff that is kewl and doesn't suck". At Uma's Tower, we like:
-Chuck "Chuck" Palahniuk at http://chuckpalahniuk.net/
-Big Brother AMG!!!!!!!!!!!!1ROFLetc. at http://www.channel4.com/bigbrother/
-B3ta at http://www.b3ta.com/challenge/
-PopBitch at http://www.popbitch.com/board.html
-Guided By Voices at http://www.gbv.com/welcome.html
-Metaphilm at http://www.metaphilm.com/
-quantum world at http://www.newscientist.com/topic/quantum-world
-David LaChapelle at http://www.davidlachapelle.com/home.html
-the Jesus Lizard bassmonster at http://davidwmsims.wordpress.com/
-Smooooooth at the Onion: http://www.theonion.com/content/columnists/view/smoove
-the great BabyBird at http://www.bad-pages.dk/
-Husker Du at http://members.tripod.com/~rastirling/husker/images.html
-Arthus-Bertrand's photos at http://www.yannarthusbertrand2.org/index.php?option=com_datsogallery&Itemid=27&func=detail&catid=3&id=984lang=fr&l=1280
-Phil K Dick covers at http://www.philipkdick.com/works_covers.html
-z-movies at http://www.nanarland.com/divers/divers.php?id=3
-Vogue at http://www.naomiklein.org/main
-Up the Dubs at http://dublinopinion.com/2007/07/20/reveries-of-a-solitary-walker-blessington-street-basin/
-Chuck "Chuck" Palahniuk at http://chuckpalahniuk.net/
-Big Brother AMG!!!!!!!!!!!!1ROFLetc. at http://www.channel4.com/bigbrother/
-B3ta at http://www.b3ta.com/challenge/
-PopBitch at http://www.popbitch.com/board.html
-Guided By Voices at http://www.gbv.com/welcome.html
-Metaphilm at http://www.metaphilm.com/
-quantum world at http://www.newscientist.com/topic/quantum-world
-David LaChapelle at http://www.davidlachapelle.com/home.html
-the Jesus Lizard bassmonster at http://davidwmsims.wordpress.com/
-Smooooooth at the Onion: http://www.theonion.com/content/columnists/view/smoove
-the great BabyBird at http://www.bad-pages.dk/
-Husker Du at http://members.tripod.com/~rastirling/husker/images.html
-Arthus-Bertrand's photos at http://www.yannarthusbertrand2.org/index.php?option=com_datsogallery&Itemid=27&func=detail&catid=3&id=984lang=fr&l=1280
-Phil K Dick covers at http://www.philipkdick.com/works_covers.html
-z-movies at http://www.nanarland.com/divers/divers.php?id=3
-Vogue at http://www.naomiklein.org/main
-Up the Dubs at http://dublinopinion.com/2007/07/20/reveries-of-a-solitary-walker-blessington-street-basin/
Saturday 6 June 2009
"Big Brother"'s back!
"Big Brother"... it's back!
Here Uma claps her little hands excitedly as she welcomes a, er, welcome break from politics: I mean, the banks swindling away billions (BILLIONS), Berlusconi being allowed at the helm of a country, the government imploding -who cares, right?
Right.
And so I await the arrival of the usual omnisexual, multicoloured, dead sincere, lower-meets-upper class, exhibitionists-with-a-secret-heart-of-gold. How long before "with me, what you see is what you get" / "I can't stand -like- backchatting and hypocrites"? Will we have another proud single mother who leaves her kid(s) behind in order to show how proud of them she is? And what about the screaming queen who hasn't officially "come out" yet?
Ooooh I can't wait! At long last something on the telly not featuring Jonathan Woss, Gordon Ramsay, Ricky (can't even pronounce his own name) Gervais, Glenda Gilson, Alan Carr, Jimmy Carr, Peter Mandelson, Dave "David" Cameron or Gerard Dipardiou in it.
Play Big Brother Bingo!!!!!
allow yourself a shot of Liebfraumilch every time you hear / spot:
-"I can promise you I'll bring a lot of fun to the house" extrovert claims to interviewer ...and turns into a damp squib after only a week
-"With me, etc." (see above)
-compulsive hair flicking / checking oneself into a mirror (at this stage, I usually adds "-but enough about the boys" ha ha ha ha ha ha)
-hardcore smoker gets the shivers; health freak in attendance dares point out the facts of healthy life. Smokers are up in arms, feel martyrised, and generally form an instant lobby.
-vegetarian -there always has to be one or two
-lesbitarian -there always has to (idem)
-body-builder -there always has to (ditto)
-sniff session in the diary room, as the pressure gets a little bit too much for a sensitive soul ...past the demanding two-hour greeting session on the first night. Coming down is so hard.
-paper like "The Guaradin" publishes unexpected piece on how pointless and -like- totally idiotistic "Big Brother" is ...next to a blog detailing every minute of it.
-"The Sun" and "The Star" quarrel over the program according to which is the official sponsor. It's then either complete gas or utter shite.
-inmate reveals that he/she once snogged a d-list sleb. (cf. Palahniuk's observation in "Rant" that we're no longer in the oft-mentioned "5 minutes of personal fame" age (yawwwwwn) ...but rather in the by proxy "once met a sleb" distinction age)
-resident joker plays prank on someone (preferrably weak) in order to test the water; some inmates are outraged and courageously make a big show of supporting the bedazzled simpleton who's been maybe splashed out or pissed on.
-inmate doesn't understand the rules of a challenge. Correction: inmates don't understand the rules of a challenge.
-"are they for real?" Fuckwit inmate -unfailingly male- expresses doubts as to the veracity of someone's pectoral balloon sized appendages. Feels the need to manually check for himself.
-Female inmate giggingly (is that a word?) lets him do so. Then whimpers that she would like them in fact bigger.
-whitened teeth (this year's sunglasses)
-inmate protests his innocence. Claims he/she has no gameplan, oh no, no gameplan whatsoever.
-amidst much yelping, someone tries to assert his/her authority ("come on guys (or even better: people)! let's do dis ting!") and instil some order. Father/mother figure alert.
...more at a later date!
Here Uma claps her little hands excitedly as she welcomes a, er, welcome break from politics: I mean, the banks swindling away billions (BILLIONS), Berlusconi being allowed at the helm of a country, the government imploding -who cares, right?
Right.
And so I await the arrival of the usual omnisexual, multicoloured, dead sincere, lower-meets-upper class, exhibitionists-with-a-secret-heart-of-gold. How long before "with me, what you see is what you get" / "I can't stand -like- backchatting and hypocrites"? Will we have another proud single mother who leaves her kid(s) behind in order to show how proud of them she is? And what about the screaming queen who hasn't officially "come out" yet?
Ooooh I can't wait! At long last something on the telly not featuring Jonathan Woss, Gordon Ramsay, Ricky (can't even pronounce his own name) Gervais, Glenda Gilson, Alan Carr, Jimmy Carr, Peter Mandelson, Dave "David" Cameron or Gerard Dipardiou in it.
Play Big Brother Bingo!!!!!
allow yourself a shot of Liebfraumilch every time you hear / spot:
-"I can promise you I'll bring a lot of fun to the house" extrovert claims to interviewer ...and turns into a damp squib after only a week
-"With me, etc." (see above)
-compulsive hair flicking / checking oneself into a mirror (at this stage, I usually adds "-but enough about the boys" ha ha ha ha ha ha)
-hardcore smoker gets the shivers; health freak in attendance dares point out the facts of healthy life. Smokers are up in arms, feel martyrised, and generally form an instant lobby.
-vegetarian -there always has to be one or two
-lesbitarian -there always has to (idem)
-body-builder -there always has to (ditto)
-sniff session in the diary room, as the pressure gets a little bit too much for a sensitive soul ...past the demanding two-hour greeting session on the first night. Coming down is so hard.
-paper like "The Guaradin" publishes unexpected piece on how pointless and -like- totally idiotistic "Big Brother" is ...next to a blog detailing every minute of it.
-"The Sun" and "The Star" quarrel over the program according to which is the official sponsor. It's then either complete gas or utter shite.
-inmate reveals that he/she once snogged a d-list sleb. (cf. Palahniuk's observation in "Rant" that we're no longer in the oft-mentioned "5 minutes of personal fame" age (yawwwwwn) ...but rather in the by proxy "once met a sleb" distinction age)
-resident joker plays prank on someone (preferrably weak) in order to test the water; some inmates are outraged and courageously make a big show of supporting the bedazzled simpleton who's been maybe splashed out or pissed on.
-inmate doesn't understand the rules of a challenge. Correction: inmates don't understand the rules of a challenge.
-"are they for real?" Fuckwit inmate -unfailingly male- expresses doubts as to the veracity of someone's pectoral balloon sized appendages. Feels the need to manually check for himself.
-Female inmate giggingly (is that a word?) lets him do so. Then whimpers that she would like them in fact bigger.
-whitened teeth (this year's sunglasses)
-inmate protests his innocence. Claims he/she has no gameplan, oh no, no gameplan whatsoever.
-amidst much yelping, someone tries to assert his/her authority ("come on guys (or even better: people)! let's do dis ting!") and instil some order. Father/mother figure alert.
...more at a later date!
Monday 25 May 2009
News flash!
Uma recently watched "Prom Night" -that is to say the necessary remake for the zero calorie CocaCola generation, not the original 80s slasher eh!- and I just... loved it!
Loved it!
Loved it like we all love "The X Factor" on ITV complete with its three advertising breaks and five hand-overs in less than 55 minutes. Loved it like we prefer "Hello Mag" :-)) to the "Financial Times" :-((.
"Prom Night 2008": it's da bomb.
To present it briefly, it's like... totally kewl and completelly awesome. It rrrrrrocks -literally. What it does right? it no less than redefines the nasty "slasher" genre (boooh!!!!!!1) in less than 90 minutes (...pro'bly pushes 1h25 mins at the most, opening and ending credits included); it pushes the boundaries right out of kilter with not a care in the world and takes you for a white-knuckled ride on a veritable roller-coaster as it sashays i'ts way nonchalontly to the PriceBusters' bargain DVD bin like it's nobody's business. We say "yes", we say "dig it".
If you remember anything past last night's episode of "Hollyoaks", the "slasher" genre was like this age-old filum type from the 80s in which a masked psycho usually set about terrorising a young virgin and slaying her friends in a multitude of inventive manners. How boring yeah. Your man would spend his time conjuring ever more gruesome ways of bumping off the cast and, lo! the so-called "torture porn" of later years (i.e. gross stuff like "Saw" and "Hostel") was born -well feck you very much long-haired freakos.
Each time, you would also be guaranteed a -like- massive twist at the end when you realised that -fancy that!- the unseen killer was in fact not who you had imagined ...but like somebody totally else: AMG!!!!!!! I can't beliiiiiiiiiiieve it!!!!!!!?!!
Needless to say boys just loooove that shite. They lap it up like they simply can't get enough of it.
Thankfully, the new "Prom Night" has none of that.
To start with, the murders here are dealt with in about, oh, five seconds each and always according to the same modus operandi (see, I know me Italian me! LOL!! Been watching "CSI" so I have!!). Your man's murders go something like this: killer grabs victim and stabs him/her in the guts, victim dies instantly. A pretty neat trick to perfect I must say though, especially when the serial stabber wears a white shirt that never ever gets stained (like kewl! far out! stick it to Procter and Gamble yeah!)
Sitting through the movie, you quickly realise that this "slasher" flick director has no particular interest in shooting murder scenes.
Oh no, what he clearly digs is... -and here Uma claps her little hands excitedly-:
the "prom queen" plot.
Like helllllo, can we have your attention please, what was the title already? That's right: "Prom Night" it is!! So.
So basically yeah, most of the movie is devoted to the big question: who but who will be crowned Prom Queen of the Year? We need to know, we demand to know, we pay our ten Euro fifty to know! Cue endless scenes of them ladies bitching about who's got the prettiest dress ("champagne" seems to be the colieur de rigieur) and the fattest carnation which their gormless boyfriends have to pin on their pushed up breast.
Talking of breasts... -Uma sure knows how to rekindle flagging male interest heh heh!!!!!!!!1-, I must say it came as a relief to be spared the mandatory five seconds mammary flashing: no nip slip in these Janet Jackson/George W Bush days shall we suffer! (And oops, just as it briefly stirred up, there goes my readership! ROFL!!!!!?!!!1) No no no no no no: this ain't that kind of party. For once -get this- actresses have to rely on their thespian skills rather than their plastic surgeon!
Since we mention acting, I must admit I got a bit confused here though. See, the main blonde doesn't exactly stretch herself in that department. Instead, she like does a great job of sticking to one single expression throughout ...but I'm not sure it's the right one. Watch her purse her thin little mouth real good, go for a nose-forehead combination frown, and look dead worried as she keeps axing empty rooms "hello? is there anybody here? is that you, Willy?"
No it's not Wally, one finds oneself replying to one's telly, it's your motherfucking stalker playing hide-and-seek you air-head!
Anyhoo.
So major quality time is given over to the girls as we follow -in excruciating detail, some total bores might say- their travails during that prom night queen thingy: it is such hard work being rich, American and young! And white too, and white -would it be for the token black couple accompanying them halfway through (look at them! just look at them! aren't they adorable?). My pervert of a other half assures me that the girl looks like "Kiss Promise" but A) he's a pervert and B) I sure don't want to know who this "Kiss Promise" is.
So -where was I?- our heroines work their way through a five-star hotel where the rooms are about as spacious as my entire fecking house. I particularly enjoyed the sight of poor folks applauding the belles as they disimbarked from their stretch limos to enter the aforementioned palace. Brought a tear to my eye it did. Folks who know their place in society... bless.
From then on, the filum concentrates on the main girls attending their prom queen popularity contest disco catfight ritual. Will it be Tabitha Stern, will it be Cordelia-Tara Palmer-Trumpingham, will it be LaTeesha Washington -or will it be virginal heroine Gemma Cheney?
How we laugh when the frumpy (and possibly secretly lesbitarian, we are told for no particular reason) teacher confiscates fuckwit number one's hidden bottle of Bourbon -hark at you, fuckwit number one! (Little note here: Bourbon whiskey... -aren't Americans so like totally 'phisticated? To think that poor souls over here pour Paddy down their throats, ewww!) More power to you sister, like! You tell 'em good and proper!
So anywayz, off go our heroines and we laugh, and we cry, and we laugh, and we cry again as they shake their booty, sip Liebfraumilch, touch their hair incessantly, unfold napkins, check their phone messages, dab at the micro-tears caused by their fuckwit of a boyfriend, exchange pleasantries with their clones, pout, flutter their eyelashes, announce their intention to take it up the arse (no they don't), check their make-up, flick their hair, bitch about who's gonna be queen of the whatchallit, sip mineral water, compare earrings, smile benevolently at DJ Sh*t and MC F*ck who comperes the evening ("yo yo yo I see a lot of honies tonite bwoyeeee! you godda get down gurrl!"), compliment each other on how awesome this evening is ("we'll never forget it"), admire themselves in the mirror, show some teeth when they smile but not too much, discuss their election dilemma in a mutually-supportive-yet-competitive manner ("after you / no after you / oh I say, you so deserve it / you betcha bitch cos' I'm worth it"), fluff their hair, cross their legs when they sit, indulge in over-the-counter medicine, repress yawning, and generally go get slayed at regular intervals.
(Talking of which, doncha love Hollywood filums: Americans have perfected the way to structure movies around a cliffhanger every fifteen minute: ...this is to account for the ads break. Clever huh?)
So here the director makes a concession to the male sadists in the audience and throws in a perfunctory kill scene (big yawn); this is supposed to be a "slasher" flick after all and the -like- total mysoginistic sadists who make up for "sasher" movies core audiences demand their pound of flesh. ...Mind you, these ladies may get brutally stabbed, but even as they do they remain totally acepticised: they hardly make a fuss or ruin the carpet with unseemly blood leakages.
It's just like that you see: class -you either got it or you don't.
But what about the killer some of yous might ax, what about the psychosexokiller? What about him indeed.
Well, we know from the start who he is -cos' it's a he, you see- and, to be perfectly honest wid cha, we don't need to learn much more about him afterwards: your man barely registers on the surface. Minimal characterisation, autopilot acting, and less than ten lines of dialogue in all. "We'll be together!" the Charles Manson lookalike (LOL) mutters a couple of times ...and this is about as far as it gets in terms of motivation/mantra/catch-phrase -like, right, big deal, waow, I'm so quaking in me slippers Mister! He then fiendishly escapes from his mental hospital thanks to one of these handy man-size ventilation shafts and shaves his beard off as a cunning disguise.
Still eh... -and here is a classic sign of serial killing mania oh yes- your man can't even manage a clean fecking shave! Oh no he can't. Just look him -Uma was positively yelling at her telly by then, sputtering popcorn all over the screen-: five o-clock shadow, cheap chinos, baseball cap on indoors, and not a single uniform in this six star hotel comes up to him to ax him what the hell he thinks he is doing here. Bah! sometime I feel I'd make a better copper than these professionals!
...He is a queer fellow though, so is our designated killer.
For the life of me, I still don't get the scene in which he finally confronts our blonde heroine. Picture this. There he is one second, right behind her, reaching up to touch her Aryan hair and............ the next second he's gone. Simply gone. Disappears. Your wan does her usual trick of finally noticing a noise, frowning, looking around in the half-darkness and going "Wee-wee, is that you?" (No for the thousandth time no! it is not Deedee! will she ever learn!!!!) and... guess who now opens the door about thirty feet away (eh???) to step back inside the massive room which for some reason he has just exited? (Maybe he had to answer the call of nature? In which case he was dead fast. ...Huh, even faster than my sorry other half but that's probably a different story altogether grumble grumble bah whatever...)
So anyway your man is back. What for?? Did he forget something inside the room? Did he suddenly remember he's been after our thin lipped blonde for years? What exactly was he thinking? Oh it's all a mystery alright.
At least the filum's writers do not disappoint us at that stage with logically making use of these recurring metal hangers which keep dangling and chiming every time the girls open that goddam wardrobe door (I counted at least four instances, with appropriate sound effect). Pah! This would have been too predictable! Not for whatshername to twist one into the killer's face a la Jaime Lee in "Halloween" (ewwww)! We'll have none of that nonsense thank you. No, rather like the characters, these ever present hangers are not repeatedly featured because they serve any purpose ...but because they are purty. Chekhov once wrote that if you see on a theatre stage a rifle hung on a backdrop wall, the rifle will have to go off in the grand scheme of the story. Chekhov was clearly wrong.
Anyway -and to cut a paper thin story short-, your man does his thing (offing hotel staff and bit parts), baseball caps his way unchallenged through the seven star hotel, surprisingly doesn't achieve his main goal (i.e. get the main blonde with the thin lips and the perpetual frown) ...and finally gets shot by the black cop. Bang, down he goes. Oh, and unlike regular "slashers", he doesn't even get to rise back from the dead in order to get killed a second time by the heroine as they always do. Nope, basic shooting is it and the total freak is done. Curtains! End of the trial!
Top drawer like I said, simply top drawer. Neat. Mercifully devoid of gore and subplots that do your head in. So refreshing in its utter predictability -that's "Prom Night" to you. Like, enough with all these boring conventions (booooo)! enough with the suspense and the shock effects (huh)! enough with the tits and the twists (d'oh)! No gross blood letting when the US are fighting cleaned up wars in faraway lands! "Prom Night" avoids all of that -and really we should be grateful. We should thank the producer like we worship at the altar of Jacintha-Sharlene and her frocked friends (big spoiler here if I may (hee hee): it's Samantha-Geraldeeene wot wins the crown in the end -yikes!).
No, this is a totally different dimension we're talking here, a totally different enterprise. "Prom Night" ain't about serialkillas, it ain't about suspense, it ain't about updating z-movie classics -it ain't about anything at all! What it does yeah, what it does is lead you up the garden path (cf. its first five minutes) and then totally wrong-foot you for the remainder of the experience; oh yes let me tell you, you're in for a bit of a surprise if you were expecting a thriller!?!!!LOLXXX. Fanboys will just hate it.
"Prom Night 2006"? ...good thing I wasn't looking to get scared!
Uma o'Gil May 2009.
So. A few things we learned watching "Prom Night":
-Swanky hotel rooms may be massive, but their doors are worryingly thin Health-and-Safety expert Uma must note. A a tiny weeny fire extinguisher misused as a battering ram will demonstrate that fact at some stage.
-US "college students" -i.e. the stage before university- are all aged around 27 going on 16.
-Putative murder victims will always find a way to wander into the one lonely place in a buzzing palace. Too clever, that's what they are -they clearly deserve to die.
-CCTV? What's that?
-Hotel staff with a subtly connotated ethnic name such as "Maria" are inviting trouble.
-Skintight low-cut dresses do a surprisingly good job at concealing bodyshapes sometime. Your granny would approve.
-Oh, and Hollywood is remaking "Oldboy" with Will Smith -happy days!
Uma recently watched "Prom Night" -that is to say the necessary remake for the zero calorie CocaCola generation, not the original 80s slasher eh!- and I just... loved it!
Loved it!
Loved it like we all love "The X Factor" on ITV complete with its three advertising breaks and five hand-overs in less than 55 minutes. Loved it like we prefer "Hello Mag" :-)) to the "Financial Times" :-((.
"Prom Night 2008": it's da bomb.
To present it briefly, it's like... totally kewl and completelly awesome. It rrrrrrocks -literally. What it does right? it no less than redefines the nasty "slasher" genre (boooh!!!!!!1) in less than 90 minutes (...pro'bly pushes 1h25 mins at the most, opening and ending credits included); it pushes the boundaries right out of kilter with not a care in the world and takes you for a white-knuckled ride on a veritable roller-coaster as it sashays i'ts way nonchalontly to the PriceBusters' bargain DVD bin like it's nobody's business. We say "yes", we say "dig it".
If you remember anything past last night's episode of "Hollyoaks", the "slasher" genre was like this age-old filum type from the 80s in which a masked psycho usually set about terrorising a young virgin and slaying her friends in a multitude of inventive manners. How boring yeah. Your man would spend his time conjuring ever more gruesome ways of bumping off the cast and, lo! the so-called "torture porn" of later years (i.e. gross stuff like "Saw" and "Hostel") was born -well feck you very much long-haired freakos.
Each time, you would also be guaranteed a -like- massive twist at the end when you realised that -fancy that!- the unseen killer was in fact not who you had imagined ...but like somebody totally else: AMG!!!!!!! I can't beliiiiiiiiiiieve it!!!!!!!?!!
Needless to say boys just loooove that shite. They lap it up like they simply can't get enough of it.
Thankfully, the new "Prom Night" has none of that.
To start with, the murders here are dealt with in about, oh, five seconds each and always according to the same modus operandi (see, I know me Italian me! LOL!! Been watching "CSI" so I have!!). Your man's murders go something like this: killer grabs victim and stabs him/her in the guts, victim dies instantly. A pretty neat trick to perfect I must say though, especially when the serial stabber wears a white shirt that never ever gets stained (like kewl! far out! stick it to Procter and Gamble yeah!)
Sitting through the movie, you quickly realise that this "slasher" flick director has no particular interest in shooting murder scenes.
Oh no, what he clearly digs is... -and here Uma claps her little hands excitedly-:
the "prom queen" plot.
Like helllllo, can we have your attention please, what was the title already? That's right: "Prom Night" it is!! So.
So basically yeah, most of the movie is devoted to the big question: who but who will be crowned Prom Queen of the Year? We need to know, we demand to know, we pay our ten Euro fifty to know! Cue endless scenes of them ladies bitching about who's got the prettiest dress ("champagne" seems to be the colieur de rigieur) and the fattest carnation which their gormless boyfriends have to pin on their pushed up breast.
Talking of breasts... -Uma sure knows how to rekindle flagging male interest heh heh!!!!!!!!1-, I must say it came as a relief to be spared the mandatory five seconds mammary flashing: no nip slip in these Janet Jackson/George W Bush days shall we suffer! (And oops, just as it briefly stirred up, there goes my readership! ROFL!!!!!?!!!1) No no no no no no: this ain't that kind of party. For once -get this- actresses have to rely on their thespian skills rather than their plastic surgeon!
Since we mention acting, I must admit I got a bit confused here though. See, the main blonde doesn't exactly stretch herself in that department. Instead, she like does a great job of sticking to one single expression throughout ...but I'm not sure it's the right one. Watch her purse her thin little mouth real good, go for a nose-forehead combination frown, and look dead worried as she keeps axing empty rooms "hello? is there anybody here? is that you, Willy?"
No it's not Wally, one finds oneself replying to one's telly, it's your motherfucking stalker playing hide-and-seek you air-head!
Anyhoo.
So major quality time is given over to the girls as we follow -in excruciating detail, some total bores might say- their travails during that prom night queen thingy: it is such hard work being rich, American and young! And white too, and white -would it be for the token black couple accompanying them halfway through (look at them! just look at them! aren't they adorable?). My pervert of a other half assures me that the girl looks like "Kiss Promise" but A) he's a pervert and B) I sure don't want to know who this "Kiss Promise" is.
So -where was I?- our heroines work their way through a five-star hotel where the rooms are about as spacious as my entire fecking house. I particularly enjoyed the sight of poor folks applauding the belles as they disimbarked from their stretch limos to enter the aforementioned palace. Brought a tear to my eye it did. Folks who know their place in society... bless.
From then on, the filum concentrates on the main girls attending their prom queen popularity contest disco catfight ritual. Will it be Tabitha Stern, will it be Cordelia-Tara Palmer-Trumpingham, will it be LaTeesha Washington -or will it be virginal heroine Gemma Cheney?
How we laugh when the frumpy (and possibly secretly lesbitarian, we are told for no particular reason) teacher confiscates fuckwit number one's hidden bottle of Bourbon -hark at you, fuckwit number one! (Little note here: Bourbon whiskey... -aren't Americans so like totally 'phisticated? To think that poor souls over here pour Paddy down their throats, ewww!) More power to you sister, like! You tell 'em good and proper!
So anywayz, off go our heroines and we laugh, and we cry, and we laugh, and we cry again as they shake their booty, sip Liebfraumilch, touch their hair incessantly, unfold napkins, check their phone messages, dab at the micro-tears caused by their fuckwit of a boyfriend, exchange pleasantries with their clones, pout, flutter their eyelashes, announce their intention to take it up the arse (no they don't), check their make-up, flick their hair, bitch about who's gonna be queen of the whatchallit, sip mineral water, compare earrings, smile benevolently at DJ Sh*t and MC F*ck who comperes the evening ("yo yo yo I see a lot of honies tonite bwoyeeee! you godda get down gurrl!"), compliment each other on how awesome this evening is ("we'll never forget it"), admire themselves in the mirror, show some teeth when they smile but not too much, discuss their election dilemma in a mutually-supportive-yet-competitive manner ("after you / no after you / oh I say, you so deserve it / you betcha bitch cos' I'm worth it"), fluff their hair, cross their legs when they sit, indulge in over-the-counter medicine, repress yawning, and generally go get slayed at regular intervals.
(Talking of which, doncha love Hollywood filums: Americans have perfected the way to structure movies around a cliffhanger every fifteen minute: ...this is to account for the ads break. Clever huh?)
So here the director makes a concession to the male sadists in the audience and throws in a perfunctory kill scene (big yawn); this is supposed to be a "slasher" flick after all and the -like- total mysoginistic sadists who make up for "sasher" movies core audiences demand their pound of flesh. ...Mind you, these ladies may get brutally stabbed, but even as they do they remain totally acepticised: they hardly make a fuss or ruin the carpet with unseemly blood leakages.
It's just like that you see: class -you either got it or you don't.
But what about the killer some of yous might ax, what about the psychosexokiller? What about him indeed.
Well, we know from the start who he is -cos' it's a he, you see- and, to be perfectly honest wid cha, we don't need to learn much more about him afterwards: your man barely registers on the surface. Minimal characterisation, autopilot acting, and less than ten lines of dialogue in all. "We'll be together!" the Charles Manson lookalike (LOL) mutters a couple of times ...and this is about as far as it gets in terms of motivation/mantra/catch-phrase -like, right, big deal, waow, I'm so quaking in me slippers Mister! He then fiendishly escapes from his mental hospital thanks to one of these handy man-size ventilation shafts and shaves his beard off as a cunning disguise.
Still eh... -and here is a classic sign of serial killing mania oh yes- your man can't even manage a clean fecking shave! Oh no he can't. Just look him -Uma was positively yelling at her telly by then, sputtering popcorn all over the screen-: five o-clock shadow, cheap chinos, baseball cap on indoors, and not a single uniform in this six star hotel comes up to him to ax him what the hell he thinks he is doing here. Bah! sometime I feel I'd make a better copper than these professionals!
...He is a queer fellow though, so is our designated killer.
For the life of me, I still don't get the scene in which he finally confronts our blonde heroine. Picture this. There he is one second, right behind her, reaching up to touch her Aryan hair and............ the next second he's gone. Simply gone. Disappears. Your wan does her usual trick of finally noticing a noise, frowning, looking around in the half-darkness and going "Wee-wee, is that you?" (No for the thousandth time no! it is not Deedee! will she ever learn!!!!) and... guess who now opens the door about thirty feet away (eh???) to step back inside the massive room which for some reason he has just exited? (Maybe he had to answer the call of nature? In which case he was dead fast. ...Huh, even faster than my sorry other half but that's probably a different story altogether grumble grumble bah whatever...)
So anyway your man is back. What for?? Did he forget something inside the room? Did he suddenly remember he's been after our thin lipped blonde for years? What exactly was he thinking? Oh it's all a mystery alright.
At least the filum's writers do not disappoint us at that stage with logically making use of these recurring metal hangers which keep dangling and chiming every time the girls open that goddam wardrobe door (I counted at least four instances, with appropriate sound effect). Pah! This would have been too predictable! Not for whatshername to twist one into the killer's face a la Jaime Lee in "Halloween" (ewwww)! We'll have none of that nonsense thank you. No, rather like the characters, these ever present hangers are not repeatedly featured because they serve any purpose ...but because they are purty. Chekhov once wrote that if you see on a theatre stage a rifle hung on a backdrop wall, the rifle will have to go off in the grand scheme of the story. Chekhov was clearly wrong.
Anyway -and to cut a paper thin story short-, your man does his thing (offing hotel staff and bit parts), baseball caps his way unchallenged through the seven star hotel, surprisingly doesn't achieve his main goal (i.e. get the main blonde with the thin lips and the perpetual frown) ...and finally gets shot by the black cop. Bang, down he goes. Oh, and unlike regular "slashers", he doesn't even get to rise back from the dead in order to get killed a second time by the heroine as they always do. Nope, basic shooting is it and the total freak is done. Curtains! End of the trial!
Top drawer like I said, simply top drawer. Neat. Mercifully devoid of gore and subplots that do your head in. So refreshing in its utter predictability -that's "Prom Night" to you. Like, enough with all these boring conventions (booooo)! enough with the suspense and the shock effects (huh)! enough with the tits and the twists (d'oh)! No gross blood letting when the US are fighting cleaned up wars in faraway lands! "Prom Night" avoids all of that -and really we should be grateful. We should thank the producer like we worship at the altar of Jacintha-Sharlene and her frocked friends (big spoiler here if I may (hee hee): it's Samantha-Geraldeeene wot wins the crown in the end -yikes!).
No, this is a totally different dimension we're talking here, a totally different enterprise. "Prom Night" ain't about serialkillas, it ain't about suspense, it ain't about updating z-movie classics -it ain't about anything at all! What it does yeah, what it does is lead you up the garden path (cf. its first five minutes) and then totally wrong-foot you for the remainder of the experience; oh yes let me tell you, you're in for a bit of a surprise if you were expecting a thriller!?!!!LOLXXX. Fanboys will just hate it.
"Prom Night 2006"? ...good thing I wasn't looking to get scared!
Uma o'Gil May 2009.
So. A few things we learned watching "Prom Night":
-Swanky hotel rooms may be massive, but their doors are worryingly thin Health-and-Safety expert Uma must note. A a tiny weeny fire extinguisher misused as a battering ram will demonstrate that fact at some stage.
-US "college students" -i.e. the stage before university- are all aged around 27 going on 16.
-Putative murder victims will always find a way to wander into the one lonely place in a buzzing palace. Too clever, that's what they are -they clearly deserve to die.
-CCTV? What's that?
-Hotel staff with a subtly connotated ethnic name such as "Maria" are inviting trouble.
-Skintight low-cut dresses do a surprisingly good job at concealing bodyshapes sometime. Your granny would approve.
-Oh, and Hollywood is remaking "Oldboy" with Will Smith -happy days!
Saturday 23 May 2009
This, from the ever fab "Onion":
(edited)
2008 Tax Records Reveal Sasha Obama Made $136 In Allowance Money
April 7, 2009 Issue 45•15
WASHINGTON—Sasha Obama testified before the Senate Committee on Finance this week after it was revealed that the second-grader had collected more than $136 in undisclosed allowance payments over the past year.
The first daughter responds to charges of hoarding taxpayer nickels.
Sasha, who has been under fire from congressional leaders since her 2008 tax records were made public earlier this month, arrived at the Capitol to address accusations that she received dozens of federal dollars for completing the most basic of household chores.
"Ms. Obama, I've examined your records and what I've found sickens me," said ranking committee member Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-IA), addressing the 7-year-old as she shifted nervously in her chair. "How could you, during this time of economic turmoil—during this time of economic despair—accept nearly 50 cents for making your bed?"
Added Grassley, "Have you no shame at all?"
The hearing, which lasted more than six hours, began shortly after 9 a.m. when Sasha was led into the courtroom by her mother, shown to her seat before the assembled senators, and asked to clearly state her full name into the microphone before her. After requesting that a telephone book be placed on the first daughter's chair, a visibly irritated Sen. Grassley outlined his charges.
The 7-year-old's extravagant travel costs do not even include the candy she demands on her journeys
These included Sasha's failure to declare the weekly earnings she took in for helping to wash the dishes at night; several oral contracts the child entered into, whereby she received small stipends of taxpayer money for finishing all of her homework; and, perhaps most damning of all, the gifts she is said to have accepted from lawmakers, Cabinet members, and aunts and uncles visiting the White House on her birthday.
"Although it is not clear how your accountant manipulated the tax code to hide your exorbitant income, I can assure you that this committee will find any loopholes or nefarious shelters that were used," Senate finance chairman Max Baucus said. "Believe me, Ms. Obama, you will suffer the harshest punishment available under the law."
Baucus went on to say that he was disgusted by the second-grader's "ruthless greed, especially at a time when so many honest Americans have to go without." According to witnesses, the chairman repeatedly demanded that Sasha respond to the charges before her and refrain from trying to dodge questions by playing with her pigtails, leaving to use the bathroom, and asking what "personable accountafrility" means.
"The fact that you keep looking over to your mother to find out what to say suggests guilt on your part," Baucus said. "Well, young lady, I'm afraid you've run out of places to hide. The American people are finally going to get the explanation they deserve."
A report released by the watchdog group Citizens for Fiscal Responsibility criticized the first daughter's extravagant lifestyle, condemning her for traveling almost exclusively by limousines and residing in a plush 132-room mansion, all at the taxpayers' expense.
"This is a girl who held lavish tea parties while banks across the country were failing," CFR spokesperson Linda Carlson said. "At these galas, Ms. Obama would often entertain a number of her associates, including a so-called 'Mr. Fuzzles' and a 'Professor Peanut Butter.'"
Added Carlson, "We believe these were in fact code names for powerful Washington lobbyists."
Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-UT), who pressured Sasha to enumerate her expenses, estimated that the first daughter spent more than 20 percent of her earnings on opulent gowns for her dolls and on sour candy. The remaining funds were reportedly funneled into a large piggy bank the first daughter kept secret.
While interrogating Sasha about her annual costs, the committee was also shocked to find that she did not contribute to food costs, transportation, or even rent.
"How do you explain that not a single tax record of yours exists prior to the year 2001?" said Hatch, who along with Finance Committee members approved† $67 million for an official investigation of the young lady's blatant excess. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You will not walk away from this, Ms. Obama."
Still reeling from the controversy of having three of his Cabinet nominees investigated for owing back taxes, President Barack Obama attempted to distance himself from this latest situation.
"I'm sorry, but I barely know this woman," Obama said during his testimony before the committee.
"Apart from a few conversations we've had in the past eight years, I'd say she's a complete stranger."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
And this.... is not a joke.
From a CNN newsflash included on the "Onion" page; at first, I assumed it was yet another of their devilish pranks but.... no; now read this:
Report: Would-be suicide jumper pushed off bridge
(CNN) -- A passerby pushed a would-be suicide jumper off a bridge in southern China because he was angry at the jumper's "selfish activity," Chinese media reported Saturday.
It happened Thursday in the city of Guangzhou as Chen Fuchao threatened to jump off Haizhu Bridge, China's Xinhua news agency reported.
The bridge has gained a "macabre" reputation with 11 jumpers having thrown themselves off the bridge since the start of April, Xinhua said.
Traffic was held up for nearly five hours and a crowd gathered as Chen sat on the bridge, threatening to jump, Xinhua reported.
Chen wanted to kill himself because he had 2 million yuan ($294,000) in debt after a failed construction project, Xinhua reported.
Lian Jiansheng, 66, who was passing by the bridge, offered to talk Chen down, Xinhua said. Police refused, but Lian broke through the police cordon and climbed to where Chen was sitting.
Lian greeted Chen with a handshake, then pushed him off the bridge, Xinhua said.
Chen fell 26 feet (8 meters) onto a partially-inflated emergency air cushion, damaging his spine and elbow in the fall, Xinhua said. He is now recovering in a hospital.
A photographer documented the sequence of events. The photographs show Lian, dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and socks, saluting to the crowd after pushing Chen off.
"I pushed him off because jumpers like Chen are very selfish. Their action violates a lot of public interest," Lian told Xinhua. "They do not really dare to kill themselves. Instead, they just want to raise the relevant government authorities' attention to their appeals."
Police took Lian away after the incident, Xinhua said. It did not say whether he would face any charges.
From China ...where else.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Radiohead-"House Of Cards" here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nTFjVm9sTQ
and the devastating Radiohead-"You're All I Need": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FmukYUyFxA
(edited)
2008 Tax Records Reveal Sasha Obama Made $136 In Allowance Money
April 7, 2009 Issue 45•15
WASHINGTON—Sasha Obama testified before the Senate Committee on Finance this week after it was revealed that the second-grader had collected more than $136 in undisclosed allowance payments over the past year.
The first daughter responds to charges of hoarding taxpayer nickels.
Sasha, who has been under fire from congressional leaders since her 2008 tax records were made public earlier this month, arrived at the Capitol to address accusations that she received dozens of federal dollars for completing the most basic of household chores.
"Ms. Obama, I've examined your records and what I've found sickens me," said ranking committee member Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-IA), addressing the 7-year-old as she shifted nervously in her chair. "How could you, during this time of economic turmoil—during this time of economic despair—accept nearly 50 cents for making your bed?"
Added Grassley, "Have you no shame at all?"
The hearing, which lasted more than six hours, began shortly after 9 a.m. when Sasha was led into the courtroom by her mother, shown to her seat before the assembled senators, and asked to clearly state her full name into the microphone before her. After requesting that a telephone book be placed on the first daughter's chair, a visibly irritated Sen. Grassley outlined his charges.
The 7-year-old's extravagant travel costs do not even include the candy she demands on her journeys
These included Sasha's failure to declare the weekly earnings she took in for helping to wash the dishes at night; several oral contracts the child entered into, whereby she received small stipends of taxpayer money for finishing all of her homework; and, perhaps most damning of all, the gifts she is said to have accepted from lawmakers, Cabinet members, and aunts and uncles visiting the White House on her birthday.
"Although it is not clear how your accountant manipulated the tax code to hide your exorbitant income, I can assure you that this committee will find any loopholes or nefarious shelters that were used," Senate finance chairman Max Baucus said. "Believe me, Ms. Obama, you will suffer the harshest punishment available under the law."
Baucus went on to say that he was disgusted by the second-grader's "ruthless greed, especially at a time when so many honest Americans have to go without." According to witnesses, the chairman repeatedly demanded that Sasha respond to the charges before her and refrain from trying to dodge questions by playing with her pigtails, leaving to use the bathroom, and asking what "personable accountafrility" means.
"The fact that you keep looking over to your mother to find out what to say suggests guilt on your part," Baucus said. "Well, young lady, I'm afraid you've run out of places to hide. The American people are finally going to get the explanation they deserve."
A report released by the watchdog group Citizens for Fiscal Responsibility criticized the first daughter's extravagant lifestyle, condemning her for traveling almost exclusively by limousines and residing in a plush 132-room mansion, all at the taxpayers' expense.
"This is a girl who held lavish tea parties while banks across the country were failing," CFR spokesperson Linda Carlson said. "At these galas, Ms. Obama would often entertain a number of her associates, including a so-called 'Mr. Fuzzles' and a 'Professor Peanut Butter.'"
Added Carlson, "We believe these were in fact code names for powerful Washington lobbyists."
Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-UT), who pressured Sasha to enumerate her expenses, estimated that the first daughter spent more than 20 percent of her earnings on opulent gowns for her dolls and on sour candy. The remaining funds were reportedly funneled into a large piggy bank the first daughter kept secret.
While interrogating Sasha about her annual costs, the committee was also shocked to find that she did not contribute to food costs, transportation, or even rent.
"How do you explain that not a single tax record of yours exists prior to the year 2001?" said Hatch, who along with Finance Committee members approved† $67 million for an official investigation of the young lady's blatant excess. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You will not walk away from this, Ms. Obama."
Still reeling from the controversy of having three of his Cabinet nominees investigated for owing back taxes, President Barack Obama attempted to distance himself from this latest situation.
"I'm sorry, but I barely know this woman," Obama said during his testimony before the committee.
"Apart from a few conversations we've had in the past eight years, I'd say she's a complete stranger."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
And this.... is not a joke.
From a CNN newsflash included on the "Onion" page; at first, I assumed it was yet another of their devilish pranks but.... no; now read this:
Report: Would-be suicide jumper pushed off bridge
(CNN) -- A passerby pushed a would-be suicide jumper off a bridge in southern China because he was angry at the jumper's "selfish activity," Chinese media reported Saturday.
It happened Thursday in the city of Guangzhou as Chen Fuchao threatened to jump off Haizhu Bridge, China's Xinhua news agency reported.
The bridge has gained a "macabre" reputation with 11 jumpers having thrown themselves off the bridge since the start of April, Xinhua said.
Traffic was held up for nearly five hours and a crowd gathered as Chen sat on the bridge, threatening to jump, Xinhua reported.
Chen wanted to kill himself because he had 2 million yuan ($294,000) in debt after a failed construction project, Xinhua reported.
Lian Jiansheng, 66, who was passing by the bridge, offered to talk Chen down, Xinhua said. Police refused, but Lian broke through the police cordon and climbed to where Chen was sitting.
Lian greeted Chen with a handshake, then pushed him off the bridge, Xinhua said.
Chen fell 26 feet (8 meters) onto a partially-inflated emergency air cushion, damaging his spine and elbow in the fall, Xinhua said. He is now recovering in a hospital.
A photographer documented the sequence of events. The photographs show Lian, dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and socks, saluting to the crowd after pushing Chen off.
"I pushed him off because jumpers like Chen are very selfish. Their action violates a lot of public interest," Lian told Xinhua. "They do not really dare to kill themselves. Instead, they just want to raise the relevant government authorities' attention to their appeals."
Police took Lian away after the incident, Xinhua said. It did not say whether he would face any charges.
From China ...where else.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Radiohead-"House Of Cards" here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nTFjVm9sTQ
and the devastating Radiohead-"You're All I Need": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FmukYUyFxA
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