Friday, April 28, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 2:58:00 AM
Do you make your balls sad?
Do you make your balls glad?
Or do you, do you, do you
Do you maaaake your balls Mad
Ooo ooo Mad-balls
Who could forget the stirring theme tune to Madballs i hope you can forget it because I just made it up and I have no fucking Idea what the theme tune was to the madballs tv show. However, the more I think about the idea of creating range of toys that are possessed balls the more I think the 1980s were one of the weirdest periods of trash culture.
As is the way with geek serendipity, once you are reminded about something, you keep seeing it everywhere. When I was in Dublin I got some great graphic novels for 50 cent each like part of one of the JLA Avengers crossover Sam Henderson’s Magic Whistle No.9. Anyway underneath these bargain piles were Volumes IV and V of the complete Buddy Bradley stories from Peter Bagge's Hate where the above madball incident comes from.
Then I bought some 25p copies of old Marvel Age magazines and what do I find but a two page promotion fest for the Madballs cartoon that gives us an insight into the inside world of the madballs they have all their own characteristics. See the pics above, I mean 'Crackhead' is in charge of the madballs because 'his head is cracked and half his brain is showing' is this what the madballs were looking for in leadership? And what about 'Oculus Orbus': 'he's just an eyeball' where's his brain inside the big eyeball?
Posted by Lorcy at 2:20:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 2:19:00 AM
1963 was a great miniseries Alan Moore did for Image Comics. I’ve always had a soft spot for it as it was the nearest U.S. comics got to the satire of the late 1980s 2000AD (everyone, I think has their era of 2000AD, mine has, I think, passed. I look at it now with the distain I give to church pamplets, it’s so wee and filled with shite: Oohh a Cyber-Judge….how many times has that been done, but I digress) Anyway, 1963 was a cross-section of a fictional 1960s comic book publisher with lots of Marvel in-jokes annotation here. My favorite aspect as the way in which Moore wrote the ads and reader’s letters as well. Hence the genius that is ‘shamed by you English?’ I especially love the little detail shown above.
Recently found this great site: Dave’s Long Box who also had a post on 1963 but actually had the original ‘Shamed by your English’ to compare it with,. Drats have been outgeeked!
Posted by Lorcy at 1:53:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 1:50:00 AM
I picked Zero Zero no. 24 for 30p from Forbidden Planet Dublin, (back when it was on Dawson Street mind!). This Summer 1998 copy of Fantagraphics Books’s Zero Zero is the gift that keeps on giving. Kind of like copies of Robert Crumb’s Weirdo (that I got for 50p a piece from a suitcase in the old Grafton Flea market), Zero Zero can be reread over and over and still raise a laugh. The above strip: ‘Smelly Ass & Fisty’ by Ivan Brunetti has to be, for me, one of the funniest things I’ve ever read.
It is the above two panels that make it for unrelenting mental imagery: there are few comics you cannot read on a full stomach but this is once of them! Contemplate that imagery. Not a bad recreation of hell for sum purty picturrs.
Hooray for the Internet! Ivan Burnetti is alive and well here, and from the look of some of his current works has not lost the perverse sense of humour that makes the Jimmny swell with pride!
Posted by Lorcy at 1:25:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 1:24:00 AM
In an almost continuing series, i.e. this is the second time I’ve done it since Starfire’s sex-education pants, here’s some comic scans that show bizarre and carefree sexual impropriety. In a nutshell, Firestorm is two guys in one body with a flaming head due to a…wait for it… nuclear accident (much as I like Firestorm, he was created in 1978, had people maybe kinda cottoned on to the fact that getting caught in nuclear explosions usually brought on such conditions as ‘scooping up your ass skin with bony hands’ rather than soaring through the sky bickering with the professor in your brain and altering molecules.) Anyway in this bit, Firestorm’s idea to turn the top of a building to lodestone to stop a women in a floating gun plane thing (!) has wiped the memory banks of Felicity Smoak’s software company. She’s understandably pissed off, and gives old stormy some grief and he promptly changes the molecules on her clothes into soap suds(!) with the maxim:
‘Serves you right for wearing polyester!’
Posted by Lorcy at 1:13:00 AM
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 1:13:00 AM
Was working in the grad bar last night and got introduced to our work place's array of newspapers: The Sun, The Times, The Telegraph, The Independent and *shudder* The Daily Mail. One quiet days you end up reading nearly them all, it's always funny (for me at least being a media studies junkie) to see how each of the papers deal with the same story. The Guardian has this profile of the photographer David LaChapelle where he comes out with corkers like "I just don't do randomness" and has been appranetly been claiming to be 37 since 2002. (he's actually 43).
This section caught my eye amid descriptions of his 'sugarbearer':
"Of all the bad memories that he of his schooldays among the worst, says la Chapelle, is when he had milk cartons thrown at him by badly dressed bullies"...
Milk cartons! I got a dead seagull thrown at my back when I was at school and I didn't deal with it by foisting perverse images on the world....wait a minute....ah gawd me an my big mouff....my wife's gonna kill me etc.
Posted by Lorcy at 12:28:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 12:20:00 AM
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
From the Times bulletin T2:
Budweiser wants beer drinkers to think more laterally — about dropping cherries into its brews, for instance. “We’re letting customers personalise and individualise their beer,” said Pat McGauley, a company spokesman (thanks for the permission!). The company hopes that ideas such as the “orangutang”, which is Bud and orange juice, take off to boost flat sales.
They could start by maybe creating a beer that doesn't taste like robot's piss served up in a recepticle looks like a robot's poo. This idea from Buweiser* is really condescending but hilariously highlights how shit their beer is, it's like they're saying look, we know it's shit but it's up to you to mask the taste with something nicer, mmm what about adding lots Jamesons.
*That the fuck! you've got to be over 21 just to visit their Web site, does it's exude alcohol vapors once you log on?
Posted by Lorcy at 11:47:00 PM
Posted by Lorcy at 3:00:00 AM
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 8:55:00 PM
Posted by Lorcy at 8:46:00 PM
Howdy all! Back to broadband land of Norwich now, so overdosed on the old blogging see two long posts below, one on niggling geek concerns like the spidermobile and another on the suspect nature of Mr.T.
Anytime I'm home I always try to bring over some of my old collection. In the manner of the culture coccoon, I like the idea of finally settling down and having all my comics in one place. Funny how my contemporaries are settling down and getting married and such and I'm still waiting to live somewhere that I can have all my comics in one place, so expect more scans of the weirder aspects of comics.
Have updated the links as well to in include my mate Vanessa's great bands Diefenbaker and The Green Hills of Earth: A Space Opera. She's a musicology PhD and fellow sci-fi geek, any space opera based on a Robert Heinlein book has got my vote.
I have created the separate 'comic blogs' section with hilarious comics blogs Beaucoup Kevin and Dave's Long Box. Comic legends Steve Gerber and John Bryne also have great sites, with a searchable galleray so I can have a link to all his She Hulk work. He has also has a great Charlie's Angels meets Universal Monsters web comic called You Go, Ghoul! Just an excuse to show the above visuals really, as 'Badbrute' would say of me, 'no subtext'.
Posted by Lorcy at 7:48:00 PM
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 5:31:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 5:22:00 AM
Wanted to accompany this post with nice pics of my great friends from back home who accomodated /humoured me while I was at home visiting my mother in hospital. However, I couln't find my digital camera cable, it's like where the fuck is everything all over again. People normally say, 'well, where did you have it last?' and, as regards my digital camera cable, all I can say is, it used to be inside the ass-hatch of my Spud-trooper. I mean, how do you top that, it's probably back in Ireland somewhere, unless it's like in my hand or on my head as we speak...dammit, I had some nice pics of my nice Toxic Avenger figure I got from JB!
So, I'll have to use old photos of these great folks,' JB', 'badbrute, 'D & C'. These are friends that have known me since 1993 at least, god help 'em. The best thing is that none of us seem to change, within about a milisecond of seeing my friends it is as if we were never apart. Like in Dublin when ‘C’ was driving me to the bus and ‘D’ was in the back. She was talking to me as a hot Japanese girl in knee-high, high-heel boots was walking up O’Connell Street:
'you may have lost him there C', says ‘D’ she replies ‘try wearing them for a while chief’ ‘D’,totally deadpan in the back goes, *sigh* ‘don’t encourage him….'
A few days later, me and JB got a chance to knock about Forbidden Planet in Dublin, an unexpected pleasure, it's great to be able to give out about Spidermobiles to someone who understands that Johnny Storm gave Spider-Man a spider-mobile in the 1960s and Spidey gave it back because he couldn't drive! Before nitpicker comments, Spidey could drive a motorcycle but he had never driven a car before getting this dune buggy monstrosity. I suppose my main feeling is that the Batmobile became part of Batman's identity but the Spidermobile is more like toy-makers making Spidey have a car so they can sell more shitty toys.
It reminded me, in the vein of Caddy Powers' fine geek week of other niggly film things that seemed to annoy me and no one else, forwith:
Play Misty for Me. Clint Eastwood plays a Jazz DJ! whatever about the obsessive love plot and a story that inspired Fatal Attraction I don't care, I immediately can't believe it, because, Clint Eastwood plays a Jazz DJ! Have you ever met a Jazz DJ? do they exsist? and if they do, do they ever ever refuse joints like Eastwood's Jazz DJ! He refuses a joint in that movie. There's a black DJ who goes 'do'ya want some' and Clint goes *no* and the other guy smokes it from behind a door or something--all you see is the fucking smoke. Do you really want Clint being an expert on Jazz while he sounds like he's constipated? next.....up...IS.....a...fine...TRaCk....from...HEERbie Hancock...
The Omega Man from Heston's 'I'm sick of saving you human's past, I am going to save your futures!! period. The Omega Men was based on Richard Matheson's I am Legend I have no problem with the premise that Heston is the last surviving man (again!) and that he is surrounded with vampiric zombies, oh yeah and he gets to shoot things and meets a submissive lady...again.
I actually can suspend my disbelief in that area for 90 minutes. What ruins this movie for me is that he goes to watch Woodstock over and over again and says in his great and emotional range 'best god-damned movie ever!'
Batman and Robin I know people have been giving out about this for years, I try not to give about this too much as I don't want to think about it more than is absolutely neccesary. But why the fuck do Batman and Robin have skates in their boots. Every other Batman movie has some sort of back story as regards the villain. In this one Gordon's on the Batmobile screen about 5 minutes in saying 'there's a new villain in town called mister freeze'. Fair enough Batman and Robin have a bit of a heads up, but this still implies they are prepared for an ice-based villain and carry skate-boots around in the batmobile all the time. The alternative is more horrific, they both have inbuilt skates in their boots all the time just in case they encounter an ice-based villain. It does drive me mad, when I finally saw Batman and Robin I raised this point at work years ago and magaret said 'so you've no problem with a guy who dresses up at a bat, becomes a vigilante, and employs young men, but you have a problem with a guy who has skates in his boots'.
Yes, yes I do have a problem with a guy who has skates in his boots. I have, however, taken to carrying hardcore pornography and dinosaur toys around with me all the time just in case I meet anyone from the religious right.
Posted by Lorcy at 2:55:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 2:47:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 2:39:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 2:32:00 AM
I always felt there was something up with Mr. T, I know it's hardly a surprising announcement, I mean who didn’t. I remember a babysitter of ours years ago telling us that Mt. T had had a heart attack carrying all that jewellery around and his twin brother took over the Mr. T role. The Internet seems to have no record of this urban legend so she must just have been fucking with me. This seemed like a travesty when I watched the The A-Team, (but Hannibal's a cactus how can he smoke a cigar? etc) It did occur to me that I had never seen the "T" out of character anyway so it didn’t really matter whether or not his twin brother replaced him. When I first saw Mr. T being interviewed ‘out of character’ (if such a thing is possible) all he could talk about was how his main aim in life was to grow up and get rich so he could buy flowers and dresses for his mother.... and protecting 'the kids'.
In Sub-City I got some old copies of Wizard (1 euro each!) and I open the June 2005 issue 194, on page 42, and see Mr. T saying the same thing "I am nothing but a big, overgrown, tough mama's boy". He was interviewed because he had a new comic out and tries to be tougher than superheroes (no one seems to have the heart to point out to him that superheroes are fictional and everyone is "tougher" than a wee piece of paper with some people drawn on it). Anyway Mr. T comes across as just creepy, you know how it is when you hear people giving out about paedophilia just a little bit too much and you’re thinking ‘why is that guy always going on about it?’. I mean, I don't think about paedophillia at all if I don't have to, why is it always family values right-wingers that keep bringing it up!? Anyway in response to a question along the lines of ‘so why the new comic’ T hold’s forth:
"Superheroes are not challenged. When was the last time Superman was in the classroom telling the kids don’t do drugs? When was the last time Batman or the Flash went to a hospital to visit kids sick with cancer? Mr. T does that all the time. I’ve been around for 20-something years doing the same things; reaching people, touching people, feeding the homeless, clothing the naked. We tell our children don’t talk to strangers, and everybody knows any time a guy is wearing a mask, he is up to no good". (my italics)
This interview is a total fluff piece but Mr. T, "T", the T, Tster, el TiTirino if you’re not into the whole brevity thing, is intent on ranting and implying that superheroes are kiddy fiddlers, like way to go Mr. T, way to win over the Wizard crowd. In response to the innocent question ‘Are you going to promote your comic at conventions’ the T answers:
When you go to the conventions, they’ve got a guy dressed up like Superman, another guy dressed up like Batman, another guy dressed up like the Masked Marvel*….you know what I mean? You don’t know who is in there. It could be a child molester! But you know who Mr. T is. We know where he comes from.
Yeah I know who Mr. T is, he's a guy in dungarees who can't can't talk for more than 2 minutes without talking about flowers, his mam's dresses or kiddy tamperers. He has managed to convert his over the top toughness into the single-most creepy thing in the world. In conclusion, I don’t pity the fool, his jingle jangle** tinkly winklies are nice and all I just think he tries to be so wholesome to what he thinks the white mainstream media will like he ends up seeming unhinged-and he never refuses a sup of milk even when it is pumped full of date-rape style drugs...does he secretly know it's in there every time?
*Props on the obscurity Mr T.
**There’s a thought, maybe he’s Jimmy Saville’s long-lost son!!
Posted by Lorcy at 1:06:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 12:31:00 AM
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 3:44:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 3:42:00 AM
I am going back home to rural-Ireland-dial-up land for a week or so tomorrow. So I'll be in my wee teenage room typing feverishly on my laptop (at least that's what I'm calling it these days) and will 'upload' less regularly with long rambling posts and less links, won't that be fun. In the meantime the amazing Caddy Powers is having a special 'geek week' which is hilarious, including his thoughts on Infinite crisis, why sci-fi is better than football and Star Trek's Deflector Dish.
Speaking of which, I don't have time to rant as much as I would like about DC's Infinite Crisis, but Robby Reed of Dial B for Blog does a good job...does a good job? that's faint praise, I meant to say that Dial B for Blog is one of the funniest Web sites about comics ever, although there is some comptetion from Super Dickery and Stupid Comics.
Don't worry though, as you can see above my teenage bat-cave is a cocoon of comics so I'll no doubt find some bizarre wee things to scan in and share with you all. I will miss the auld broadband though, what will I do without it? probably go outside (!) and get some exercise (!!) and maybe read some stuff in books on not on a flickering screen that is regularly interspersed with pop-up ads for casinos and cock cream.
Posted by Lorcy at 2:56:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 1:56:00 AM
In this aimless sleep-deprived, one-day-runs-into-another world of academia it is good to have some sort of event to look forward to. This term, I had a sort of Friday feeling with my co-Friday teaching inmates such as (names barely disguised to protect the guilty) lol, the Mack, Dr. Pepper, K-Man, Fabes it’s a good chance after a day's teaching to bitch about our lowly associate tutor status and basically geek out. We’d see each other in the corridors during coffee breaks and generally muck about by the photocopiers, hey we get fun where we can, and then head off to the bar. With Fabes and I, it always turns to obscure comics, and his knowledge far outstrips mine. We were discussing a recent doppelganger of his we both knew. All assumed Fabes would have issue with someone who looked vaguely like him, as he has enough issues with those that don't look like him. In a surprising move, Fabes actually quite likes this guy. Fabes is leaving the bleak plains or Noorwich for somewhere much more exciting. I imagined this new guy taking over his geek-talk role in my Fridays, but it would have to involve me to calling round to this guy's house with armfuls of Quasar and Secret Wars to get him up to speed.
Anyway, this guy* was doing a PhD on Derrida and Wittgenstein.
Dr. Pepper pipes up with: ‘Derrida and Wittgenstein: Together at Last!,
I add in the manner of a jaded action movie fan, which is what I am,
‘I thought they were dead after that warehouse explosion at the end of the last one, but I think they hid under a speed boat’.
Confusion ensued when I added I rented the Derrida DVD off Tesco.com but had not yet got round to watching it, who has?** I hear people saying things like ‘he has a haircut in it!’ like it’s going to be a highlight.. Pepper thought I meant Daredevil, inspiring the bizarre horror that would be Derridaredevil some sort of blind, French post-structuralist lawyer who rides Jennifer Garner. What I really wanted to do was to have the heads of Derrida and Wittgenstein photoshoped onto the bodies of Spider-man and Daredevil, but I have neither a mac nor, more importantly, the skills to do a good job of it, it will take me about a month or something and then I'll have to re-explain its relevance...poor yous, this pic of Lacan fighting in a computer game from somthing awful will have to do. Plus Malcom Baradbury's being doing this sort of stuff for years, does no one remember Mensonge?
*Sorry about this, there is a punchline coming--didn't really need that first paragraph. I could have just started with 'there. this guy see, and his doing a PhD on Derrida and Wittgenstein.....'
**He's in stiff competition with my other Tesco DVDs: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Dr. Terrible's House of Horrible and Hip Hop Honeys you'd need to raise your game Jackie D.
Posted by Lorcy at 1:04:00 AM
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 9:40:00 PM
Posted by Lorcy at 1:57:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 1:56:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 12:00:00 AM
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
This is one of those spur of the moment posts that purely exists so I can close some of the 10 Interent explorer windows I have opened (before my faithful desktop has an "e-heart-attack"). It conerns an ongoing circular geekout I've been having surrounding Steve Ditko's The Question, Mr. A and Alan Moore's Rorschach. They're all similar characters with interrelating histories: more or less crusading or paranoid investigators in trench coats and fedoras and weird masks (The Question=Blank, Mr.A='steel mask that resembles a placid face!', and Rorschach=White mask with constantly moving black shapes.)
A while back, yon Caddy Powers Jr. (still battling the world one post at a time), had this post on geek reactions to programs and such, which included the line:
More recently I was watching an episode of the 'kids' show Justice League Unlimited. Am I stupid cause I actually realised that the Question was briefly quoting Ayn Rand. According to those in my family who found me watching the show I am.
This stuck in my noggin as I had no knowledge of Ayn Rand and was secretly grumpy a cultural reference on Justice League: Unlimited had passed me by (being a media and film studies goon the philosophy tends to be French, trendy and wanky so you can apply it to things like The Matrix and cream yourself when falling down a dark tughole into nothingness). One of the subplots of the new Justice League that tickles Jimmny's dark heart is the perverse relationship between The Huntress and the Question. There's also the fact that the Question is voiced by Jeffrey Combs and the fact that he gets great dialogue:
The Question: I want you to understand something, Luthor. Although my distaste for you as a human being is brobdingnagian, what I'm about to do isn't personal.
The Question: Everything that exists has a specific nature. Each entity exists as something in particular and has characteristics that are part of what it is. A is A, and no matter what reality he calls home, Luthor is Luthor
I mean, fucking hell, it's like the kind of lines Tarantino puts in his movies and then bores the hell out of you by keeping going on about it. Anyway today, the great as always Dial B for Blog had this post featuring Steve Dikto's Mr. A and I was pleased in a self-absorbed way that his name was Rex Graine, not a million miles away from the real name of a demented comic geek you all know and tolerate. This got me thinking of a conversation with Fabes a while back where he reminded me that The Question's real name was Charles Victor Szasz, or "Vic" Sage also the name of well-renowned lecturer at my place of book-learnin'.
Why the long post on a whim? Well obsessed as I am with parallel dimensions like the 'A is A' bit where one will always act the same is comforting, so I can stop hating all the parallel-dimension Jimmnies that get up at 6am every morning go running and are at the desk at 7am each mornign to write lots of yummy PhD-style goodness. A is A and Jimmny is Jimmny so even if they're in a dimension with hoverboots and women on Mars he's still pretty much the same eejit.
Also the name connection bit had me thinking in grand, Watchmen-like terms of observing historic moments. Like today when I went to see Charles Barr's last regular lecture on a course, Classical Hollywood 1930-1960, which I taught on a few years ago. In the search for celebrity academics and those with quainty-not-quality publishing records, universities in this country will too-late realise the loss of people like Barr: conscientious, intelligent, decent, friendly, organised, and approchable. It was a strange feeling to be part of an old gaurd in a way (although I'm not here as long as some, one does get a 'veteran' feeling pretty quick). Us academics that actually, you know, want to read full books and engage with theories will have to call round each other's houses in the dead of night, like when Dan Drieberg (the second Nite Owl) calls round to see Hollis Mason (the first Nite Owl) to chat about old times. Hurm...be seeing you.
Posted by Lorcy at 7:57:00 PM
Monday, April 03, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 12:57:00 AM
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Hello, testing testing....Ahh Jimmny love future! check out the headphones and wee mic (only £1 from Poundland) which, in theory, allows me to burble inscently to the world via Skype and Google Talk.
In days past, it would have no doubt cost lots to have a fun weekend, but I've had an hilariously fun weekend without even leaving my room....much....I mean I did have to eat at some points...and do other things. I'm desperately trying make the following posts sound good but can't really, they're about things like eating pizza, missing the Newsnight Review on TV, not being able to find dodgy DVDs and er.. that's about it...but I managed to rant about it for three long posts!! and have deluded myself into thinking they're worth foisting on yous alls. Just thank the lord I'm not shouting the following contents down your lugholes viva a £1 mic!
Posted by Lorcy at 11:46:00 PM
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Posted by Lorcy at 6:37:00 AM
I...am....WillliamShatner (you might remember me from such voices as 'stilted' and 'masculince').....I have....only...a tangential... realtiontothispost....because....Jimmny....could...not find....anyaccpetable....pictures....of....She-Hulk.... Check...out...my...other...shows like....TJ Hooker and Boston Public....it's....not....all Star Trek....I....am....man....of...range, oh yeah and Miss Congeniality ...I nearly...forgot...that one...
Posted by Lorcy at 6:16:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 6:15:00 AM
My Friday schedule:
3.00am: Go to bed after finding extensive clips to show apathetic mooks, sleep,
7.00am: Contemplate a tamper, renege for reasons of the purity of my groups as if they care…get up, shower
7.30am: Get some doughnuts on Coleman Road, check bank balance, bemoan the fact that Break Charity shop ain’t open yet so I can’t buy that Star Trek technical manual* I saw there on Wednesday for 80p but didn’t have then money to buy because I really wanted to know how phasers really worked by way of the cutaway technical diagram.
8.00am: Stumble into my office, make coffee, wait 30 minutes for office computer, powered presumably by a steam jenny, to heat up and maybe print out stuff and photocopy stuff before class.
9.00am-4.00pm: Talk to apathetic mooks about sitcom.
4.00pm-5.00pm :Eat food for the first time that day after 6 cups of coffee out of Batman mug and can hardly move.
5.00pm-10.00pm: go to bar, have pints with Fabes and Pietari, much geeky chatter ensues, restrain the urge to clock MA student who claims to be the ‘world’s expert on Keats’**, fail to entice any ladies to observe and possibly fiddle with my rinky dink in its natural environ (Reeves and Mortimer videos, my bad paintings, ane red wine... ermm…who could blame ‘em)
11.00pm: Go home, restrain the urge to throw bottles at the Newsnight Review…but what’s this! Due to a stopover at Mr. Pizza, see below, I miss Newsnight Review and land in with Georgie Fame on TV, feel better for not seeing some oafs talk shit about crap they don’t know about (Paulin...me, you outside! ..."I don't know is it the stooory....or the pictoores are goood...oh boo hoo I've got no critical faculities to judge a work of genius.) So in a spate of abandon I write this gubbins! Hurrah! (For me, but not for yous, as yous have to read it, sorry) I may go down and play some Splinter Cell, splinty splities, sneaky sneakies “good work Fisher!”. The End. Please send in alternative ideas for what I can do on Friday nights, this sucks!
*I’ve checked, it’s already gone, some feck in a mobility scooter with three bosoms has already nabbed it no doubt! And he bought sausages from the butchers, I can hear ‘dem sizzlin’ through his walls, he’s having one of them there sausage parties. .
**It’s not like I claim to the ‘world’s expert’ on photomanipulated pics of she-males coloured green like She-Hulk, even though I could, start with something small MA mooky boy, world's expert on Keats? is there some sort of WWF grandslam in this event? This week only! the world's expert on Keats and the world's expert on Yeats in 'Challenge of EA's....be there or be dead...film at 11 etc..."
Posted by Lorcy at 5:02:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 4:48:00 AM
It’s one of the terrible things of growing old and tired, the exasperated question of 'where the fuck is everything?' Thank feck summer is coming so I don’t have to spend about 30 minutes every morning trying to find my hat and my snood. I can some day leave the house with just a T-shirt and a jacket, or feck forbid just a T-shirt. (An aside: man, summer is nearly upon us at UEA, people are friendlier the days of ‘ass cleavage’ square are almost upon us bringing memories of Fradley ‘fratboy’ Fradley and Dr. Pepper and I scoffing some UFO boozes , stop right there! It’s more than my job’s worth etc… but there’s no harm in looking, is there?…or is there?) I had that highlighter in my hand just a minute ago, where the fuck is it? That CD I wanted to play, where the fuck is it? That DVD I burned, where the fuck is it? It doesn’t matter anyway because I can’t find the permanent marker to write ‘The New Statesman: Volume One’ on it anyway, where the fuck is everything. I haven’t found that Belladonna she-male porn DVD for months, where the fuck is it? Do you have it?
If you are an academic the question of ‘where the fuck is it’ is normally answered by ‘under that bit of paper you prick’ (you can admonish yourself for having said bit of paper in your other hand for all this time now…but where’s me flarn ) I have just been asking this question in my head: Where is my minky mac moo? Where is my minky mac moo? It is the arbitrary name I have just given to a wee wine stopper my mam gave me from Spain, he has no nose but a wee hat and eyes and a moustache. As soon as I said this (to myself), I found him under my table… hello my little bandito chum!…thank you for not letting me finish the bottle in your little outfit, minky mac moo… where is your minky mac moo? have you seen him? Is he safe? Are you sure?Don’t have nightmares, don’t worry about your narrator, he has none, his quota is filled up in real life
Posted by Lorcy at 4:14:00 AM
Posted by Lorcy at 4:11:00 AM
This is what it has just been like for me eating a 9 inch ‘Pepperoni Plus’ Pizza from a local emporium called ‘Mr. Pizza’, (but is there a Mrs? Have you seen her? etc….) This news item may of no interest to you, but if you eat fast food regularly and hey, who doesn’t, or, you know, generally eat properly (more than one meal a day), listen up! I have just got paid for my teaching this month and this is the first time in a month I have been able to afford a pizza that hasn’t cost £1.50 or less from Budgens or if you will, Heads. Can you imagine if you eat fast food and you can never afford it for a month and then you get paid for talking about sitcoms to apathetic youngsters and then you have a few pints and think, fuck it, I can afford to buy a 9 inch Pizza from Mr. Pizza for £5.10 once a month and it’s like the fucking Bicycle Thieves and you do it anyway and you eat very quickly while Georgie Fame is playing on the telly and you’re drinking a glass of red wine and you think, this is what it must be like if God was jizzing in my mouth and everything will be alright and everything else can go fuck itself…it’s half two am and I’m listing to all my Pixies albums from my laptop on party shuffle*
Is she wed is she white is promised to the night? And then, “Is a Woman” from Lambchop, which is one of my favourite songs, despite the fact that I have inexplicably just typed it down and it doesn’t make as much sense in written form but still, it is a great song….
I remember once in listening to this in Babrute’s Ka and us agreeing that Lambchops’ Is A Woman is the best hangover album in the world (tough to put on a sticker, but it is) it almost makes hangover’s at age 30 bearable.
*In your face past-times version of me who had Surfer Rosa and Doolittle one tape and thought that having all the Pixies CDs was an insurmountable goal, I've shown you! I live in the future! go back to yer Sega Master System II and be Alex Kidd I'm too busy being Sam Fisher...and I've seen a lady in the nude.
Posted by Lorcy at 3:46:00 AM