Thursday, September 27, 2007

Fry's Delight

Stephen Fry » Blog Archive » Let Fame
Let the pheme f be the gene of celebrity, the base unit of fame; its only function is to replicate itself by planting the awareness of a given famous person, x, into the host minds of the masses, m. The pheme of x, f(x) does not demand that you like x, respect them, admire them or even know much about them, only that you are conscious of them enough to pass on the pheme in some manner.

Holy crapola. Steve Fry's first post on Smartphone wasn't simply a one-off - the man thinks and opines at length all the time, on topics you wouldn't expect a light entertainer to discuss, especially not with the erudition displayed here. A genuine insight into the mind of a genius.

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Tuesday, September 25, 2007


Another Little Disappointment » Who Will Ride Me Like The Horse That I Am

1. Can you ride me like a horse please, like I am a big proud horse
2. Can I knock on your overhanging forehead please, I want to see whether it’s like a block of wood or an aquarium
3. Please can I stand you on the handle-end of a fork, then slam my hand on the stabbling end, and you go flying through the air
4. Can I see your teeth please, I want to see if you’re adapted for an omnivorous lifestyle
5. Get your cocktail sausage hands off my tits please, this stopped being charming some minutes ago and I can see your erection

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I got up a few times and moved backwards and forwards, but I got nowhere near actually saying “ride me” to a dwarf. Annoyingly, this is because I respect people in real life, getting my kicks instead from being a dick on the internet. Vile reprobate Will Porter has no such qualms. People are his playthings.

Jon "Logathon" Blyth is parasiting off my dwarf story by pretending he thought of dwarfs first, they all belong to him intellectually, and indeed invented the whole concept of "relative measure". He even used my terrifying Will Porter picture.

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Big Daddy & the Hobbit.

Big Daddy & the Hobbit., originally uploaded by Hot Grill.

I’m already having one of the most stressful days of my life, when the phone on my desk rings and our imperturbable elderly receptionist says “there’s someone to see you” in dulcet tones that sound like she got sleeping sickness in 1920 and is just getting around to waking up. (She is *lovely* though.) At which point I remember that the also-lovely, batshit mental Lunch PR team were meant to be sending someone over to see me, though they wouldn’t say who.
So, leaving my oft-interrupted writing with a rueful glance, I grabbed the lift down and emerging from the darkened corridor I saw a small figure in a pointy brown cape… “Oh no”, thinks my stressed, tired brain “They can’t have. They wouldn’t. Not in this day and age. ” A look at the serried smiling faces of the PR team, laden down with cupcakes convinced me they had. Not a famous one, not one in character, just a normal dwarf. Dressed as a hobbit.

Friday, September 21, 2007

That Ram Raider Chappy

The RAM Raider: Future Publishing Readership Goes From "Strength" To "Strength"

Xbox 360:
Officially Corrupt Xbox 360 Magazine: 65,673 (gaining 22,993 readers)
Xbox World 360: 30,296 (gaining 7,113 readers)

“We’re delighted to be leading Future Publishing’s assault on traditional moral values by definitively proving once and for all that honesty is not the best policy,” said a spokesperson for Officially Corrupt Xbox 360 Magazine, yesterday. “These results conclusively demonstrate that lying to our readers, reviewing unfinished code, and awarding artificially high scores in exchange for advertising payments does pull in readers.”

An interesting alternate viewpoint on Future Publishing's position in the games industry is available over at the Ram Raider's site. We've never taken any money for coverage or high scores (when I've overscored it's been through stupid enthusiasm rather than evil corruption), or reviewed code we've been told isn't okay to review from, and I personally have never lied to the readers knowingly, but I found the article fun and a refreshing take on the games industry. I'd highly recommend clicking through to read the next paragraph after this one... ;)

Burgeoning Ego does not endorse his comments, nor does it condone the language employed or agree with the statements therein. (Yes, I'm really scared of getting in trouble for merely referring to this, but this is fair comment, surely?! I'm allowed to refer to other people's comments on my magazine, aren't I? On a completely different note, the paranoiac stress inculcated by living in a seeming panopticon where any misstep might lead to an eternity of pain and suffering could really get a man down, couldn't it? He says, theorising, apropos nothing.)

(And, no, I'm not the fucking Ram Raider, though I'd like to know who is, just to put me out of my misery.)

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Friday, September 14, 2007

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Sick Boy

When I moved flat on wednesday, I neglected to bring a duvet or pillows. I also forgot I'd left my sleeping bag with Maria in Bath. Hence, since then, I've been sleeping in the nud, as is my wont, with the window wide open and no covering. The neighbours must have had an eyeful...

Surprisingly, I caught a cold. I am now sick as a dead parrot. Well, not quite.

However, this has allowed me to explore my surroundings today, now I've recovered a bit. I've been hacking back the weeds in the garden and I sat down and thought "ah, back to nature." Then I looked around and tried to spot the nature. Fence? No. Stone flags? Machined, no. Gravel? Nah? Plants? All ornamental, bred for man. Weeds? Thriving on man's by-product. Sunlight by which I see the world? Filtered through poisoned atmosphere and glasses covered with dust & dead skin... hum.

I'm going back inside, where I can be near comfortable artificiality.

(Seriously, the gardens brilliant. You're all invited whenever you want to come and have beer & barbie. That includes the stalkers, mkay?)

Friday, September 07, 2007

I *only* called to say I love you.

Playing on the false equivalence of "only" and "just", Dave wrote this cartoon. He can be very creative when he wants to be...

Jennifer: Some Of My Lost Loves

Log is the funniest man alive. COS HE KILLED THE FUNNIERS.

Charlie Branaski

Peanuts, by Charles Bukowski

The dog finished his supper and disappeared into the doghouse. A minute later, he walked out wearing a leather jacket and dark glasses and padded right past Branaski and out the gate.

“You ungrateful son of a bitch. I oughta let you starve.”

Thanks to Ed Boucher for this.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Dave & Dan at Green Man Festival

2007 01 Home (6)

2007 01 Home (6), originally uploaded by Dimitri Kissoff.

Daftness runs in families apparently.