Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Monday, November 24, 2003
Sunday, November 23, 2003
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Just following up last week's wasteland with a bit of Prufrock...
Just following up last week's wasteland with a bit of Prufrock...
The Alien Online - Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror News, Reviews, Articles and more...
An article on the caterer, a comic no-one I know will ever have read, or will read. But sounds great. (I wasn't going to blog this, cos I found it on someone else's blog, but I was listening to Ian Dury, and I was sure he was shouting 'Blog it' - not a psychotic episode, as much as I was hoping, just a track called 'Blockheads'...)
An article on the caterer, a comic no-one I know will ever have read, or will read. But sounds great. (I wasn't going to blog this, cos I found it on someone else's blog, but I was listening to Ian Dury, and I was sure he was shouting 'Blog it' - not a psychotic episode, as much as I was hoping, just a track called 'Blockheads'...)
Friday, November 21, 2003
Daft Fucker
Sorry to say, but that's the only response to this Wacko Jacko feller - John Walker asks "Mr Jackson, did you not explicitly state in 1987, that you were 'bad'?" I prefer to think of him as a sacrificial hero - we build these people up to replace our heroes of old, and then we knock them down, like we did the sacrificial sun king when his year's reign was up, we dig around until we find a flaw in our heroes and then take infinite pleasure in reminding thme that it's the mob that's always in charge.
I don't like the guy; I think he's been manipulated, abused, and so on, yet I think he's been an arrogant shmuck and don't see a reason to forgive a man his flaws just because they've got causes. He's done something wrong and it's something we think contrary to the maintenance of society as commonly conceived (and something we seem to have as the greatest evil currently available, worse than the taking of a life, the wrecking of one, but that's a different story...) and in our society that requires punishment.
Though, as John says, he'll buy his way out, the poor shmuck, and end up even more in hock to his managers and insudtry associates...
Sorry to say, but that's the only response to this Wacko Jacko feller - John Walker asks "Mr Jackson, did you not explicitly state in 1987, that you were 'bad'?" I prefer to think of him as a sacrificial hero - we build these people up to replace our heroes of old, and then we knock them down, like we did the sacrificial sun king when his year's reign was up, we dig around until we find a flaw in our heroes and then take infinite pleasure in reminding thme that it's the mob that's always in charge.
I don't like the guy; I think he's been manipulated, abused, and so on, yet I think he's been an arrogant shmuck and don't see a reason to forgive a man his flaws just because they've got causes. He's done something wrong and it's something we think contrary to the maintenance of society as commonly conceived (and something we seem to have as the greatest evil currently available, worse than the taking of a life, the wrecking of one, but that's a different story...) and in our society that requires punishment.
Though, as John says, he'll buy his way out, the poor shmuck, and end up even more in hock to his managers and insudtry associates...
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
2 Deep Purple CDs survived shuttle crash Smoke on the Water? Down to Earth? Machine Head?
OWOS Bush Virtual March
In case you want to protest against Bush, but can't be arsed leaving your computer, try this site...
In case you want to protest against Bush, but can't be arsed leaving your computer, try this site...
Sunday, November 16, 2003
The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot as hypertext
How poetry should be presented; utterly wonderful - but skip to Death by Water, Eliot's take on Blake.
How poetry should be presented; utterly wonderful - but skip to Death by Water, Eliot's take on Blake.
Big Robot
Friends, visit this site - fulsome praise will do no good, as it's written by friends. Worth a shufti though...
Friends, visit this site - fulsome praise will do no good, as it's written by friends. Worth a shufti though...
Saturday, November 15, 2003
The Space Marine’s gaze is straightforward, straight-ahead and resolute. There’s not an inch of his body that lacks determination, not a quavering muscle on a limb. The eyes are flat, and stay flat as a frame edges into view, a black frame surrounding a black pupil twice the width of the Marine’s head, a giant white-flecked brush reaching for the Marine...
From the next room comes a tremulous wail, “I hate old women!” Kieron applies the white highlight to the model’s head, and straightens up as Dan walks in the room, clutching what looks like a mung bean in his hand. “I was just stood in the queue at the butchers, eyeing the breaded crumbed dehydrated-rehydrated ham, when the old ‘dear’ in front of me, orders something called a Bath Chap. I ask what it is, and she assures me it’s very nice with salad, dear. After that pitch from someone who lived through rationing, from someone with less teeth than Kojak’s comb, I bought it.”
‘Is that what the smell is’ asks Ron, a finely picked nostril falling back under the twin offensives of varnish and stench.
‘That? No, that’s the Stinking Bishop, some Nazi cheese that wants to be an acid, that some malicious friend told me was nice. You’d think I’d learn from the name’s tis not meant to be eaten. The, Bath Chap’s the pile of mouldering flesh in the kitchen bin, what I dug this tooth out of.’ Holds up said canine with disgusted look. “Guess I should listen when people say we don’t waste anything round here.” Flicks tooth into bin.
“Cuh,” says Ron, and his beplasticked eye follows the tooth’s arc as it sinks towards the bin, and thinks about how that’d look really cool in his latest diorama…
From the next room comes a tremulous wail, “I hate old women!” Kieron applies the white highlight to the model’s head, and straightens up as Dan walks in the room, clutching what looks like a mung bean in his hand. “I was just stood in the queue at the butchers, eyeing the breaded crumbed dehydrated-rehydrated ham, when the old ‘dear’ in front of me, orders something called a Bath Chap. I ask what it is, and she assures me it’s very nice with salad, dear. After that pitch from someone who lived through rationing, from someone with less teeth than Kojak’s comb, I bought it.”
‘Is that what the smell is’ asks Ron, a finely picked nostril falling back under the twin offensives of varnish and stench.
‘That? No, that’s the Stinking Bishop, some Nazi cheese that wants to be an acid, that some malicious friend told me was nice. You’d think I’d learn from the name’s tis not meant to be eaten. The, Bath Chap’s the pile of mouldering flesh in the kitchen bin, what I dug this tooth out of.’ Holds up said canine with disgusted look. “Guess I should listen when people say we don’t waste anything round here.” Flicks tooth into bin.
“Cuh,” says Ron, and his beplasticked eye follows the tooth’s arc as it sinks towards the bin, and thinks about how that’d look really cool in his latest diorama…
Friday, November 14, 2003
Monday, November 10, 2003
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)