This was written some time ago, but is still relevant today:
Honestly. What sickens me most is how fucking DOWN with the kids iPhone thinks it is. "Boy" thought Apples hideously slimey marketing department one day "Aren't these kids the darnedest things" and all the suits nod so it continues "I mean just the other day I hear this one young fella, AFLUENT AS HELL, using a youthful colloquialism - I'm talking words that aren't real here. But he was the toast of the party, with his compatriots nodding in agreement and such" and then the marketing department guy walks up to the window and looks outside "And I think to myself - why can't we whore out that kind of lyrical genius huh? I mean, why not make up words like 'funnest' to describe our products - hell, they can relate to it!"
And so, a year later, I feel infuriated in an arm chair when I see that the new iSomething-or-other is being described as the "funnest" iPod ever. Brilliant.
Has anyone, EVER, thought to themselves while they were using their iPhone, "This is great and all, what with the device performing its function and all, but what I'd really like to do is move this glorified mP3 player and steer a rollercoaster, at the same time...*sigh* but I know that's just a pipe-dream, a crazy, crazy pipe-dream". WELL WISH NO MORE GUY, BECAUSE IF YOU CAN COUGH UP THE EXPLETIVE WORTHY SIMOLIANS TO BUY SUCH A FANCIFUL ITEM THEN YOU REALLY CAN STEER A ROLLERCOASTER! I'd buy one myself but I purchased a coca-cola last week and I'm a little strapped for cash.
What I hate about Apple is how bloody convenient they are trying to be. Life isn't convenient (ok?) and so the result is the advert equivalent of one of those waiters that keeps coming up to you to ask if everything is ok; everything ok sir, everything ok sir, everything o-fucking-k sir? NO!? Well no worries baby! Trousers on fire? Cleft palet? Lost the will to live? There's an app for that too! If it was me I'd tell him to fuck off and let me finish my soup in peace. BUT WHY EAT SOUP WHEN I CAN HAVE ALL THE NUTRIENTS FROM SOUP TELEPORTED DIRECTLY IN MY BLOODSTREAM, he'd say, IT'LL LEAVE YOU TIME TO DO ALL THOSE AFLUENT LEISURE ACTIVITIES YOU NEVER HAVE TIME FOR! *que me, snowboarding*
As ever Apples most recent advertising campaign features a song picked out by NME specialists so that it all sounds cool enough and unthreatening enough to convey a real easy-going, hip piece of technology, sorry, not technology, I mean, this hip-piece of life-support. I want my technology shiney and laden with golden buttons thankyou very much, not moseying up to my place at about half 2 in some low slung jeans and with a general shrug of it's casual shoulders "hey man, wanna latte, I know a place" - no, piss off, I'm throwing balls of paper into a bin in just my pants.
I mean for goodness sake, I am a human-being! I'm supposed to demand things of technology, not the other way round! Why am I suddenly "bumping fists" with somebody to exchange a phone address with someone, explain that to me! It's the equivalent of a cowboy-iPhone with a gun making me dance by shooting bullets at my feet, "weeeell, looky here fellas, he's a dancing, he's aaaa daaancing - now bump fists bitch".
I mean seriously you are going to look like a right prick with an iPhone clenched in your clamby mits, BUMPING FISTS with some other equally impressionable iPhone owner, every, single, time you want to exchange information. Call me old fashioned, but I still have:
(a) the use of my voice, and
(b) the use of my brain.
If I utilise both these items, a rare thing occurs. For you see, I can send the details incredibly easily to a person that has an iPhone or that doesn't AND, they can be anywhere in the world; they don't have to be sitting across from me in Starbucks, or in an unoffensive white limbo, where everyone where's one colour and dances to trendy remixes.
People don't know what the hell they're doing on an iPhone, they're fingers zip around on invisible roller blades not knowing where the fuck they are going until eventually they've ordered 600 copies of Ghostbusters II on DVD and have booked themselves in for a haircut at 8, 9 and 10pm for the following day. "DO YOUR SHOPPING ON THE BUS!" NO, I say again, I DEFY YOU iPHONE! People, do it yourself! Feel your wrist, find your pulse? You're alive aren't you? Perhaps try putting your iPhone away for once and embrace that, stupid.
Monday, 4 January 2010
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Something Smells Stupid
Christmas time! You know what that means don't you? You and everyone around you stinks! Don't worry, someone is on it.
Like so much snow, December means a flurry of perfume adverts. We are now in the midsts of the storm and witnessing that extraordinary moment that comes but once a year, that is, the moment when every single bloody perfume company tries 'to out-pretentious' and 'out-celebrity' one another. Here is the conversation that must occur in board rooms across the globe as they prepare to market their fragrance:
A: So, Christmas is in a few months time; what have we got?
B: Well sir, we have this fragrance - it smells like cats!
A: Cats?
B: Persian cats.
A: Ah.
B: Exotic!
A: Right! What's the name?
B: Bane.
A: Bane?
B: Like woflsbane sir - it makes people think it has a heritage - wolfsbane is old-timee.
A: But wolfsbane...bane...it smells like cats, I don't get it.
B: We could pronounce it differently...
A: How so?
B: We could say 'Ba' - the new fragance.
A: What is that, French?
B: It could be French. The important thing is that it's foreign.
A: Ah, of course. Spray some on me.
B: Here.
A: GARGH, IT SMELLS LIKE...CATS!
B: Yeah.
A: WELL - I MEAN - MY CAT DOESN'T EVEN SMELL LIKE THIS? HOW THE HELL CAN WE SELL THIS STUFF! URGH, IT'S BURNING A HOLE IN MY FACE.
B: Hmm. That could be a hard sell I guess.
A: HARD SELL, MY EYEBROW'S MISSING!!
B: Well look, I have an idea - how about in the build up to its realease we make people think that they'll die without this perfume?
A:...go on.
B: We don't spend much...quick shots, flashing lights.
A: Cheap, yes, I like it, go on...
B: We show er...images...like...balloons...and statues...
A: Think more glamorous...
B: Red carpets...cars...landscapes!
A: Now you're cooking.
B: We show all those things, really quickly, in black and white.
A: We'll blur a few of the shots as well.
B: Right, as long as no one knows what the hell is going on. Then we get a celebrity-
A: What!? A good one?
B: It's not really important.
A: Well who do we get?
B: We'll draw them from this hat.
A: Ah, ok.
B: Look, I got Ewan McGregor!
A: Primo!
B: And then we get them to say a little something about the perfume!
A: Problem.
B: What?
A: We can't really afford to pay them to say anything.
B: Well that's fine. Look, let's say it's...100 dollars a word...
A: Right...
B: We get them to say about three words, maybe four...
A: Woah now...
B: Ok, three words...good words though, long ones...
A: We want our moneys worth afterall.
B: Exactly; three long words, arty words...and then the name of the perfume.
A: Wolfsbane.
B: Ba.
A: Oh yes, right.
B: And hey presto, we have a hit fragrance this Christmas.
A: The money comes rolling in!
B: Exactly.
A: Just one thing...
B: What is it?
A: Well what if another company does this? I've heard rummblings of a very effective marketing campaign building up over at Pacco.
B: Huh! You mean like this bad boy? I don't think so. Relax baby-bel! Soon as people see our ad they'll feel like they're in touch with something...they'll see it and go...'yeah - that meant something to me'.
A: What?
B: Well it doesn't matter what, it doesn't mean anything; it's just supposed to make them feel like they can only be important if they buy the fragrance.
A: So what we're saying is..."Buy this fragrance..."
B: Buy this fragrance, otherwise you're a soulless monster with no ability to recognise art...
A: Plus, if you don't buy it...
B: Then you're also not a celebrity.
A: Bingo.
B: Those sweet simolians are ours - now all we need is a bottle shaped like something you can't practically store.
------------------------------------------------------
Aaaaand it goes on like this. My point being, every advert for perfume at this time of year is exactly the same. Short bursts of pictures and sounds that give you the consumer the impression that it's so much more! That if you can cough up the cash, if you can buy this fragrance then you too can have all of this great stuff laid before you! BUY IT, BECAUSE THEY HAVE BOTTLED UP PERSONALITY AND CHARISMA ALL FOR YOU TO SUCK DOWN YOUR GOB-HOLE. ITS MAGIC, THIS IS LIQUID SEX, THIS IS LIQUID SUCCESS, YOU HAVE TO BUY IT.
Afterall, at a billion pounds a pop, it doesn't seem as flash if you don't do all that crap does it, right?
Show them you care this Christmas; buy them "Smell-In-A-Jar", the new musk from Mr. Muscle.
p.s. sorry about the dialogue, I got carried away as usual.
Like so much snow, December means a flurry of perfume adverts. We are now in the midsts of the storm and witnessing that extraordinary moment that comes but once a year, that is, the moment when every single bloody perfume company tries 'to out-pretentious' and 'out-celebrity' one another. Here is the conversation that must occur in board rooms across the globe as they prepare to market their fragrance:
A: So, Christmas is in a few months time; what have we got?
B: Well sir, we have this fragrance - it smells like cats!
A: Cats?
B: Persian cats.
A: Ah.
B: Exotic!
A: Right! What's the name?
B: Bane.
A: Bane?
B: Like woflsbane sir - it makes people think it has a heritage - wolfsbane is old-timee.
A: But wolfsbane...bane...it smells like cats, I don't get it.
B: We could pronounce it differently...
A: How so?
B: We could say 'Ba' - the new fragance.
A: What is that, French?
B: It could be French. The important thing is that it's foreign.
A: Ah, of course. Spray some on me.
B: Here.
A: GARGH, IT SMELLS LIKE...CATS!
B: Yeah.
A: WELL - I MEAN - MY CAT DOESN'T EVEN SMELL LIKE THIS? HOW THE HELL CAN WE SELL THIS STUFF! URGH, IT'S BURNING A HOLE IN MY FACE.
B: Hmm. That could be a hard sell I guess.
A: HARD SELL, MY EYEBROW'S MISSING!!
B: Well look, I have an idea - how about in the build up to its realease we make people think that they'll die without this perfume?
A:...go on.
B: We don't spend much...quick shots, flashing lights.
A: Cheap, yes, I like it, go on...
B: We show er...images...like...balloons...and statues...
A: Think more glamorous...
B: Red carpets...cars...landscapes!
A: Now you're cooking.
B: We show all those things, really quickly, in black and white.
A: We'll blur a few of the shots as well.
B: Right, as long as no one knows what the hell is going on. Then we get a celebrity-
A: What!? A good one?
B: It's not really important.
A: Well who do we get?
B: We'll draw them from this hat.
A: Ah, ok.
B: Look, I got Ewan McGregor!
A: Primo!
B: And then we get them to say a little something about the perfume!
A: Problem.
B: What?
A: We can't really afford to pay them to say anything.
B: Well that's fine. Look, let's say it's...100 dollars a word...
A: Right...
B: We get them to say about three words, maybe four...
A: Woah now...
B: Ok, three words...good words though, long ones...
A: We want our moneys worth afterall.
B: Exactly; three long words, arty words...and then the name of the perfume.
A: Wolfsbane.
B: Ba.
A: Oh yes, right.
B: And hey presto, we have a hit fragrance this Christmas.
A: The money comes rolling in!
B: Exactly.
A: Just one thing...
B: What is it?
A: Well what if another company does this? I've heard rummblings of a very effective marketing campaign building up over at Pacco.
B: Huh! You mean like this bad boy? I don't think so. Relax baby-bel! Soon as people see our ad they'll feel like they're in touch with something...they'll see it and go...'yeah - that meant something to me'.
A: What?
B: Well it doesn't matter what, it doesn't mean anything; it's just supposed to make them feel like they can only be important if they buy the fragrance.
A: So what we're saying is..."Buy this fragrance..."
B: Buy this fragrance, otherwise you're a soulless monster with no ability to recognise art...
A: Plus, if you don't buy it...
B: Then you're also not a celebrity.
A: Bingo.
B: Those sweet simolians are ours - now all we need is a bottle shaped like something you can't practically store.
------------------------------------------------------
Aaaaand it goes on like this. My point being, every advert for perfume at this time of year is exactly the same. Short bursts of pictures and sounds that give you the consumer the impression that it's so much more! That if you can cough up the cash, if you can buy this fragrance then you too can have all of this great stuff laid before you! BUY IT, BECAUSE THEY HAVE BOTTLED UP PERSONALITY AND CHARISMA ALL FOR YOU TO SUCK DOWN YOUR GOB-HOLE. ITS MAGIC, THIS IS LIQUID SEX, THIS IS LIQUID SUCCESS, YOU HAVE TO BUY IT.
Afterall, at a billion pounds a pop, it doesn't seem as flash if you don't do all that crap does it, right?
Show them you care this Christmas; buy them "Smell-In-A-Jar", the new musk from Mr. Muscle.
p.s. sorry about the dialogue, I got carried away as usual.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
We Were Warned
If I may I would like to briefly sum this film up before exploring the details further. A huge fecking disaster hits the entire globe like it never did before. Think about something really big...done that? Well it's even bigger than that, this is the kind of global disaster that demands a rich tapestry of CGI particulars that eventually illustrate destruction on an epic, awe inspiring scale. Can one man and his family survive? Indeed, will mankind survive? Let’s find out.
The special effects are good. Incredibly good, to date I don’t believe that I have seen much better. I couldn't quite enjoy the spectacle though because of the three trailers that came before the actual film. It seems that in 2010 we’re in for a myriad of HUGE, WHOPPING GREAT CGI films that are intent on melting our eyeballs. Which is a shame because not only do I like my eyeballs, I like depth and story. The opening trailers were more crammed with special effects than my blog is of profanities, which is no mean feat. By the time 2012 rocked up I was bloody worn out.
The scale of the collapsing Earth in 2012 is mightily impressive and fully immersed me in the global catastrophe. I might even call it terrifying, due to its relevance in a green-aware world and possibility that we could really suffer from such natural disasters in the future. Unfortunately, my point on the opening trailers exhausting me is that 2012’s greatest strength is clearly in its CGI artistry. However, when so many current and upcoming films are seemingly capable of such imagery, can they still be called special effects? If they can’t, then a film like 2012 can’t hope to succeed merely on its appearance. And, regrettably, it pretty much does.
There was too much icing on the cake that is 2012, which meant in the end it started to taste a lot like eating plain icing and if you do that you quickly grow tired of eating icing and you're sick everywhere. The guys who toiled on this were clearly talented and well funded, but it soon became like watching a child build something out of Lego, just so he could smash it on the ground. The rest of the film is embarrassingly predictable.
The focus is on one family but as in all disaster films it's a broken family, one that can only be repaired by the part of the Earth’s crust being shifted around, which says a lot to me about the impracticality of marriage in the 21st Century. As well as this core family, 2012 also dabbles in a 'Love Actually-esque' view of some other narratives, and eventually they all sort of criss-cross. Unfortunately the film seems to lose interest in this plot device and quickly puts them all together like it's picked up something smelly and wants to put it all away quickly because it didn't realise how smelly all the different plotlines were. So the other plotlines never really get the same level of attention given to the core one - it's unbalanced, considering that these strands are all supposed to converge at the same spot at the end of the film.
They might have dodged a bullet though. Never one to do things in halves, 2012 wants to equal its epic special effects only in the pathos it builds for the main character, John Cusack...who from here on in will be called ‘High Fidelity’. Not a typical action hero you might think, but nowadays the real movie heroes are those that we least expect - which is why he's always the failed husband and father now, or the jerk who won’t grow up and realise his responsibilities. The dinosaurs of yesterdays action films are now Californian senators or wheeling themselves out in films called 'Explosions VII; Revenge of the Box Office'; ‘High Fidelity’ is our hero now. Sure he was never an attentive enough husband or father, but damn it (and they probably had this very argument once) if there was ever a world crisis where the entire globe collapsed in on itself and humanities very existence was threatened, he'd bloody well come through, OK? He was probably really kicking himself then when it actually happened.
As ever an unlikely amount of luck seems to influence his and his family’s survival. He outruns earthquakes in limos and dodges volcanoes in planes. It’s all good, baby. In fact, 2012, being the a-typical disaster monolith it is, reminds us of that key-code of conduct that one must obey if one wants to live to the end of an apocalypse film; BE GOOD.
2012 reminds us that in films like these, anyone guilty of a slight moral infraction comes to an unlikely death. If only life were so fair! And equally anyone that has always tried to do the right thing comes to an unlikely survival. 2012 is so blindingly generic in this way that I could almost see the grim puppet-master of film morality bouncing the figures around going "woohoo, you're going to die, liiike...this; ha-ha!" Honestly, there was no grey area here, no serious moral questions about humanity or society, which is what the film needed to make any of these people worth saving and, subsequently, to get the audience to care about the outcome. Such films have no room for uncertainty, you are either going to live, or you are going to die. Oh, and if you are making the final resolution awkward or even 'heroes' final happiness in the status quo a little difficult, it’s likely that you too will die as a result of being inconvenient. That's basic. This is basic film maths people, page 1 of your text books. 2012 follows it religiously.
And it is because it is so rigid that 2012 was not a great movie. It was frequently on its high horse. “Oh, look at this guy making a sacrifice. Look at this guy not making a sacrifice! I’ll settle their hash”. It suddenly started to feel a lot like that ungodly 'Crash' film. Crash ought to be buried in a lead bunker, because to go near it is to be contaminated. By the end, the only thing rivalling 2012’s moral high ground was the height of the waves. I think I was supposed to have learnt something about...being good to each other? And sacrifice? The American family wins through once the loving new husband has been churned up in the gears of a machine? Was this film about class conflict? Racism? I simply don’t know. I'm just glad that at the end of the film everyone gets to sail off into the sunset; literally. Can you believe that? I almost wanted the words "THE END" to appear in beautiful script at the top of the screen while a Disney-style chorus sang them off. Instead we got a space eye view of the African continent...was that supposed to be political? Again, my tiny intellect prevents me from answering.
Put simply, it was hard to take any of the films messages seriously when they had all been made before - what's new 2012? Do you still pay attention anymore when your mum tells you to eat all of your vegetables? No, of course you don't, you've started to come to those decisions on your own now. Equally, having seen my fair share of films over the past twenty years, I don't need 2012 telling me that human life is precious. Thanks. Is it? Good.
Let me set your minds at ease if you have your tickets already booked - I don't think this is what I would call a bad film. I just wouldn't venture to call it good either. 2012 is essentially a film trying to make up for having a small penis (its human relationships) by giving off a lot of bravado. If you like bravado, you'll like this film. But if you want a film that develops believably human relationships, please don’t give 2012 the time of day.
Ultimately, whatever your opinion it is impossible to truly complain about this film. Afterall, we were warned! Hyuck-hyuck.
The special effects are good. Incredibly good, to date I don’t believe that I have seen much better. I couldn't quite enjoy the spectacle though because of the three trailers that came before the actual film. It seems that in 2010 we’re in for a myriad of HUGE, WHOPPING GREAT CGI films that are intent on melting our eyeballs. Which is a shame because not only do I like my eyeballs, I like depth and story. The opening trailers were more crammed with special effects than my blog is of profanities, which is no mean feat. By the time 2012 rocked up I was bloody worn out.
The scale of the collapsing Earth in 2012 is mightily impressive and fully immersed me in the global catastrophe. I might even call it terrifying, due to its relevance in a green-aware world and possibility that we could really suffer from such natural disasters in the future. Unfortunately, my point on the opening trailers exhausting me is that 2012’s greatest strength is clearly in its CGI artistry. However, when so many current and upcoming films are seemingly capable of such imagery, can they still be called special effects? If they can’t, then a film like 2012 can’t hope to succeed merely on its appearance. And, regrettably, it pretty much does.
There was too much icing on the cake that is 2012, which meant in the end it started to taste a lot like eating plain icing and if you do that you quickly grow tired of eating icing and you're sick everywhere. The guys who toiled on this were clearly talented and well funded, but it soon became like watching a child build something out of Lego, just so he could smash it on the ground. The rest of the film is embarrassingly predictable.
The focus is on one family but as in all disaster films it's a broken family, one that can only be repaired by the part of the Earth’s crust being shifted around, which says a lot to me about the impracticality of marriage in the 21st Century. As well as this core family, 2012 also dabbles in a 'Love Actually-esque' view of some other narratives, and eventually they all sort of criss-cross. Unfortunately the film seems to lose interest in this plot device and quickly puts them all together like it's picked up something smelly and wants to put it all away quickly because it didn't realise how smelly all the different plotlines were. So the other plotlines never really get the same level of attention given to the core one - it's unbalanced, considering that these strands are all supposed to converge at the same spot at the end of the film.
They might have dodged a bullet though. Never one to do things in halves, 2012 wants to equal its epic special effects only in the pathos it builds for the main character, John Cusack...who from here on in will be called ‘High Fidelity’. Not a typical action hero you might think, but nowadays the real movie heroes are those that we least expect - which is why he's always the failed husband and father now, or the jerk who won’t grow up and realise his responsibilities. The dinosaurs of yesterdays action films are now Californian senators or wheeling themselves out in films called 'Explosions VII; Revenge of the Box Office'; ‘High Fidelity’ is our hero now. Sure he was never an attentive enough husband or father, but damn it (and they probably had this very argument once) if there was ever a world crisis where the entire globe collapsed in on itself and humanities very existence was threatened, he'd bloody well come through, OK? He was probably really kicking himself then when it actually happened.
As ever an unlikely amount of luck seems to influence his and his family’s survival. He outruns earthquakes in limos and dodges volcanoes in planes. It’s all good, baby. In fact, 2012, being the a-typical disaster monolith it is, reminds us of that key-code of conduct that one must obey if one wants to live to the end of an apocalypse film; BE GOOD.
2012 reminds us that in films like these, anyone guilty of a slight moral infraction comes to an unlikely death. If only life were so fair! And equally anyone that has always tried to do the right thing comes to an unlikely survival. 2012 is so blindingly generic in this way that I could almost see the grim puppet-master of film morality bouncing the figures around going "woohoo, you're going to die, liiike...this; ha-ha!" Honestly, there was no grey area here, no serious moral questions about humanity or society, which is what the film needed to make any of these people worth saving and, subsequently, to get the audience to care about the outcome. Such films have no room for uncertainty, you are either going to live, or you are going to die. Oh, and if you are making the final resolution awkward or even 'heroes' final happiness in the status quo a little difficult, it’s likely that you too will die as a result of being inconvenient. That's basic. This is basic film maths people, page 1 of your text books. 2012 follows it religiously.
And it is because it is so rigid that 2012 was not a great movie. It was frequently on its high horse. “Oh, look at this guy making a sacrifice. Look at this guy not making a sacrifice! I’ll settle their hash”. It suddenly started to feel a lot like that ungodly 'Crash' film. Crash ought to be buried in a lead bunker, because to go near it is to be contaminated. By the end, the only thing rivalling 2012’s moral high ground was the height of the waves. I think I was supposed to have learnt something about...being good to each other? And sacrifice? The American family wins through once the loving new husband has been churned up in the gears of a machine? Was this film about class conflict? Racism? I simply don’t know. I'm just glad that at the end of the film everyone gets to sail off into the sunset; literally. Can you believe that? I almost wanted the words "THE END" to appear in beautiful script at the top of the screen while a Disney-style chorus sang them off. Instead we got a space eye view of the African continent...was that supposed to be political? Again, my tiny intellect prevents me from answering.
Put simply, it was hard to take any of the films messages seriously when they had all been made before - what's new 2012? Do you still pay attention anymore when your mum tells you to eat all of your vegetables? No, of course you don't, you've started to come to those decisions on your own now. Equally, having seen my fair share of films over the past twenty years, I don't need 2012 telling me that human life is precious. Thanks. Is it? Good.
Let me set your minds at ease if you have your tickets already booked - I don't think this is what I would call a bad film. I just wouldn't venture to call it good either. 2012 is essentially a film trying to make up for having a small penis (its human relationships) by giving off a lot of bravado. If you like bravado, you'll like this film. But if you want a film that develops believably human relationships, please don’t give 2012 the time of day.
Ultimately, whatever your opinion it is impossible to truly complain about this film. Afterall, we were warned! Hyuck-hyuck.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
X MARKS THE SHIT, or rather, Why It's Important to Watch X-Factor.
Ah, my old nemesis, X-Factor, we meet again, FOR THE LAST TIME.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Posh Isn't Funny
You might think that this is a petty, meaningless blog, but it's not, and you're wrong. If you think that then you're exactly like those people in the past who used to go "fuck the environment, there's plenty of it left" until one day there wasn't. Well I'm not going to let that happen, I'm shooting this berk down before he can destroy my viewing environment, free as it is, of wankers.
Having established the importance of this article, the man that I direct you to is none other than Jack Whitehall.. exactly, who the fuck is he?
Well, in the last few months he has been on You Have Been Watching and just tonight (October 22nd) has hosted Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Technically he is a stand-up comedian, but only in the same way that I am a published novelist.
This article is necessary because I fear that the stupid television brains controlling anything are going to soon be injecting more of this jumped up little twit onto our screens because he is young, good looking and all squeaky-bum-market-research-appeal to the right demographic-clean.
In actual fact, he is a posh prick. He seems fresh out of uni and if he didn't take a drama course I will eat my hat because he is a classic drama student idiot. Every line he delivers is with the same posh tone emphasis at the end of the word or sentence, and everything he says is unoriginal, unimaginative and just uninspiring. I worry this is what I'd be like on television, but look, I'm not on television. Because I bet what he said used to sound pretty funny down at the student union and he thought:
"Yowser, when I get back to mummy and daddy in Kensington I'm telling them that I want to be a super duper comedy personality - perhaps I'll get a grant for being posh!"
And he did, I bet, probably. I've seen his stand-up material and it's weaker than a milky tea, and I hate milky tea baby-bel. I'm not sure where the jokes are coming from with this guy, I don't see the appeal, I've seen him on television a total of three times and it both upsets and inspires me because he is a no-talent toff with an empty clone of a personality; he should be in politics, not in comedy!
Newsflash Jack my boy, POSH doesn't equal FUNNY, ok, unless it's done ironically. Everything you say is not funny simply by virtue of your saying it, you have to think of something witty. Self-satisfaction doesn't make you a wit, trust me, I know. You dick. Get off of my television set you after dinner mint of a light-weight flop sweat "comedian".
The fact that he's on television inspires me, because it must be easy.
That's it, that's all. This was me railing against an oaf and I apologise, but seriously, the guys an arse and you'd be well advised to avoid him.
Having established the importance of this article, the man that I direct you to is none other than Jack Whitehall.. exactly, who the fuck is he?
Well, in the last few months he has been on You Have Been Watching and just tonight (October 22nd) has hosted Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Technically he is a stand-up comedian, but only in the same way that I am a published novelist.
This article is necessary because I fear that the stupid television brains controlling anything are going to soon be injecting more of this jumped up little twit onto our screens because he is young, good looking and all squeaky-bum-market-research-appeal to the right demographic-clean.
In actual fact, he is a posh prick. He seems fresh out of uni and if he didn't take a drama course I will eat my hat because he is a classic drama student idiot. Every line he delivers is with the same posh tone emphasis at the end of the word or sentence, and everything he says is unoriginal, unimaginative and just uninspiring. I worry this is what I'd be like on television, but look, I'm not on television. Because I bet what he said used to sound pretty funny down at the student union and he thought:
"Yowser, when I get back to mummy and daddy in Kensington I'm telling them that I want to be a super duper comedy personality - perhaps I'll get a grant for being posh!"
And he did, I bet, probably. I've seen his stand-up material and it's weaker than a milky tea, and I hate milky tea baby-bel. I'm not sure where the jokes are coming from with this guy, I don't see the appeal, I've seen him on television a total of three times and it both upsets and inspires me because he is a no-talent toff with an empty clone of a personality; he should be in politics, not in comedy!
Newsflash Jack my boy, POSH doesn't equal FUNNY, ok, unless it's done ironically. Everything you say is not funny simply by virtue of your saying it, you have to think of something witty. Self-satisfaction doesn't make you a wit, trust me, I know. You dick. Get off of my television set you after dinner mint of a light-weight flop sweat "comedian".
The fact that he's on television inspires me, because it must be easy.
That's it, that's all. This was me railing against an oaf and I apologise, but seriously, the guys an arse and you'd be well advised to avoid him.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
A Sarcastic Round of Applause for Richard Dawkins.
Oh well done, oh well, well done Richard Dawkins, PROFESSOR Richard Dawkins, you mighty Zeus of a man! Oh I'm sorry, Zeus is a mythological Roman God isn't he, no more credible than Christian God. Let me rephrase then lest I suffer your frightening rath in the same way religion has...er...Richard Dawkins you...mighty ape descended survivor you! Let me just say, if it is all about survival of the fittest with Richard then there's been an error in his gene pool somewhere along the line, because he seems to have been born with the kind of face that you want to repeatedly punch; huh.
Richard Dawkins, champion of atheism likes to spit in the face of God; HA, yeah, fuck you God. I'm not religious and I do consider some aspects of religion mad and laughable...you know, those evangelical American types and the antiquated naiviety that some religious folk walk around with...but I mean seriously Richard, seriously? You really want to kick the shit out of Christianity for no reason but to satisfy your own sense of self worth. Ok, let's dance baby-bel, because I'm British and I like the underdog to win.
Dawkins may seem all balls and tits, but it must be easy to draw Gods wrath under a different name than your own. He gallavants around the place, bitch-slapping religion, who hasn't done anything wrong recently, under guise of some modern day Charles Darwin; Richard, you're not Charles Darwin, and throwing his name around all the time doesn't suddenly give you some authorative clout with which to debunk something that is fundamentally spiritual in nature! Yeah alright, there's no Adam and Eve and you're truly an enlightened man to notice that, but you're saying that spirituality and a peaceful inner-psyche aren't important to the most sentient beings on the planet? Oh right, cool, brilliant.
It probably doesn't even stop at his brash theories either, I bet Richard Dawkins gets table reservations like that as well.
-"I'm sorry sir, there really aren't any tables left, I'm afraid you'll have to try another restaurant"
-"Ah...perhaps if my friend Chaaaarles Darwin was joining us this evening?"
-"OH WELL SIR, that's different, he discovered evolution and debunked that whole God thing we were all wasting our time with!"
-"I know; so we'll say, 6 o'clock?"
-"Wonderful sir, and how many is the table for"
-"I'm an ubearable bastard I'm afraid so I will, in fact, be dining alone this evening"
-"Just you and the lord eh sir?"
And so on in that manner.
Why is Richard Dawkins so eager to disprove religion? Religion has a very corrupt image that I think is left over from you know like...monarchy olden day times...and yes the religious world can be a bunch of pricks, just look at gay marriage. But I mean what is it? Intelligent people use religion intelligently and find solice in it. Some people like to drink coffee, it relaxes them. Shall we lay into them too Richard, you and me? They're not harming anyone sure, but what say you and me go down to Starbucks and start kicking over tables in the name of science eh? FUCK YOU COFFEE DRINKERS, YOU SHOULD BE DRINKING TEA BECAUSE IT'S PROVEN TO BE BETTER FOR YOU THAN COFFEE! GAAARGH! Isn't it insulting that Richard Dawkins is going on television and telling you and I that in fact, and guys, if you're reading this, keep it under your hat, but...a lot of the stuff written in the Bible...it's not true.
No, seriously, it's not. I saw it on this programme by a guy calle Richard Dawkins, he told me there was this thing called evolution and that actually thats where we all come from! Fuck me, did we really need a four or five part television series to have something so plainly fundamental explained to us? WE KNOW THANKS RICHARD, what have you got lined up for the Autumn, a whole television series explaining the dangers of drinking anti-freeze to me? Well, until that gets aired, I'm downing this next one, wheeeey! Prick.
And do you know what, FUCK YOU. I personally have about as much proof of evolution as I do for what the bible says. Whatever way you look it at it, unless you are a scientist or a priest you are getting the facts delivered through some sort of second-party medium. I don't have the fossils that show evolution, I wasn't there observing the millenia long process of leg growth and beak extension, nor was I around when God stuck together some bits and bobs and gave us all the gift of human shame. I have wikipedia, and that's it.
Another thing; it's Professor Richard Dawkins isn't it? Forgive me (please!) if I'm wrong, but aren't you guys supposed to carry out impartial tests? You know, like in fair, scientific conditions?
So reeeally, when doing a programme designed to shove all religious belief firmly in the bin, shouldn't there be a priest present as well to represent the other side of the argument? Surely he'd have a thing or two to say while you're in South Africa putting your hand against that of chimpanzees to show the similarity. Perhaps The Bishop of Canterbury could take us round some graves and show us the people who find some comfort in believing in heaven. And then they could release Dawkins from a nearby cage or something and he could find a greiving person and take a huge dump on the grave they were at; HA HA HA! Tally one to science!
Just having Richard Dawkins on that show, with all his stuffy upper-class snobbery renders the ENTIRE programme as scientific propoganda. I don't care how accurate it all is, the last person I ever want my facts from is Richard Dawkins, I'd rather have evolution explained to me on the back of a cereal box.
As I said, I'm not religious, but I am fairly...you know...moral. And essentially, as it's core, religion tries to preach good I think. And yes, in these hurly burly modern times where we (as in, other people) are making scientific breakthroughs all the time, it's hard for religion to find any real meaning. Next to an iPod, who the hell needs God; I'll take 'Keyboard Cat' thank you very much.
So just leave religion alone ok Richard? And that goes for all of you. If it's not long for this world anyway, why do something that any single one of us could have done, you pretentious toss-pot; seriously.
In conclusion, a well done and a slow, sarcastic round of applause are in line for Richard Dawkins. Let me address him directly; "You brave man you! You really lampooned religion there, what a kick in the nuts for God YOU are sir! I mean for fuck sake, why not just go and beat up some children, at least that'd be more challenging than completely laying into relgion you prick. I think I might just refuse to believe in evolution because I hate you so much". For a man so determindely stuck in science, he sure does like to preach.
Richard Dawkins, champion of atheism likes to spit in the face of God; HA, yeah, fuck you God. I'm not religious and I do consider some aspects of religion mad and laughable...you know, those evangelical American types and the antiquated naiviety that some religious folk walk around with...but I mean seriously Richard, seriously? You really want to kick the shit out of Christianity for no reason but to satisfy your own sense of self worth. Ok, let's dance baby-bel, because I'm British and I like the underdog to win.
Dawkins may seem all balls and tits, but it must be easy to draw Gods wrath under a different name than your own. He gallavants around the place, bitch-slapping religion, who hasn't done anything wrong recently, under guise of some modern day Charles Darwin; Richard, you're not Charles Darwin, and throwing his name around all the time doesn't suddenly give you some authorative clout with which to debunk something that is fundamentally spiritual in nature! Yeah alright, there's no Adam and Eve and you're truly an enlightened man to notice that, but you're saying that spirituality and a peaceful inner-psyche aren't important to the most sentient beings on the planet? Oh right, cool, brilliant.
It probably doesn't even stop at his brash theories either, I bet Richard Dawkins gets table reservations like that as well.
-"I'm sorry sir, there really aren't any tables left, I'm afraid you'll have to try another restaurant"
-"Ah...perhaps if my friend Chaaaarles Darwin was joining us this evening?"
-"OH WELL SIR, that's different, he discovered evolution and debunked that whole God thing we were all wasting our time with!"
-"I know; so we'll say, 6 o'clock?"
-"Wonderful sir, and how many is the table for"
-"I'm an ubearable bastard I'm afraid so I will, in fact, be dining alone this evening"
-"Just you and the lord eh sir?"
And so on in that manner.
Why is Richard Dawkins so eager to disprove religion? Religion has a very corrupt image that I think is left over from you know like...monarchy olden day times...and yes the religious world can be a bunch of pricks, just look at gay marriage. But I mean what is it? Intelligent people use religion intelligently and find solice in it. Some people like to drink coffee, it relaxes them. Shall we lay into them too Richard, you and me? They're not harming anyone sure, but what say you and me go down to Starbucks and start kicking over tables in the name of science eh? FUCK YOU COFFEE DRINKERS, YOU SHOULD BE DRINKING TEA BECAUSE IT'S PROVEN TO BE BETTER FOR YOU THAN COFFEE! GAAARGH! Isn't it insulting that Richard Dawkins is going on television and telling you and I that in fact, and guys, if you're reading this, keep it under your hat, but...a lot of the stuff written in the Bible...it's not true.
No, seriously, it's not. I saw it on this programme by a guy calle Richard Dawkins, he told me there was this thing called evolution and that actually thats where we all come from! Fuck me, did we really need a four or five part television series to have something so plainly fundamental explained to us? WE KNOW THANKS RICHARD, what have you got lined up for the Autumn, a whole television series explaining the dangers of drinking anti-freeze to me? Well, until that gets aired, I'm downing this next one, wheeeey! Prick.
And do you know what, FUCK YOU. I personally have about as much proof of evolution as I do for what the bible says. Whatever way you look it at it, unless you are a scientist or a priest you are getting the facts delivered through some sort of second-party medium. I don't have the fossils that show evolution, I wasn't there observing the millenia long process of leg growth and beak extension, nor was I around when God stuck together some bits and bobs and gave us all the gift of human shame. I have wikipedia, and that's it.
Another thing; it's Professor Richard Dawkins isn't it? Forgive me (please!) if I'm wrong, but aren't you guys supposed to carry out impartial tests? You know, like in fair, scientific conditions?
So reeeally, when doing a programme designed to shove all religious belief firmly in the bin, shouldn't there be a priest present as well to represent the other side of the argument? Surely he'd have a thing or two to say while you're in South Africa putting your hand against that of chimpanzees to show the similarity. Perhaps The Bishop of Canterbury could take us round some graves and show us the people who find some comfort in believing in heaven. And then they could release Dawkins from a nearby cage or something and he could find a greiving person and take a huge dump on the grave they were at; HA HA HA! Tally one to science!
Just having Richard Dawkins on that show, with all his stuffy upper-class snobbery renders the ENTIRE programme as scientific propoganda. I don't care how accurate it all is, the last person I ever want my facts from is Richard Dawkins, I'd rather have evolution explained to me on the back of a cereal box.
As I said, I'm not religious, but I am fairly...you know...moral. And essentially, as it's core, religion tries to preach good I think. And yes, in these hurly burly modern times where we (as in, other people) are making scientific breakthroughs all the time, it's hard for religion to find any real meaning. Next to an iPod, who the hell needs God; I'll take 'Keyboard Cat' thank you very much.
So just leave religion alone ok Richard? And that goes for all of you. If it's not long for this world anyway, why do something that any single one of us could have done, you pretentious toss-pot; seriously.
In conclusion, a well done and a slow, sarcastic round of applause are in line for Richard Dawkins. Let me address him directly; "You brave man you! You really lampooned religion there, what a kick in the nuts for God YOU are sir! I mean for fuck sake, why not just go and beat up some children, at least that'd be more challenging than completely laying into relgion you prick. I think I might just refuse to believe in evolution because I hate you so much". For a man so determindely stuck in science, he sure does like to preach.
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Nothing Up His Sleeves.. Nothing Up His Trousers..
Much to the relief of everyone that isn't a gullible moron, Derren Brown's fantastic new show has ended. Oo the mystery. Oo the intrigue. How does he do it!?
He doesn't, case closed. Anyone can go on national television and claim to do anything, and that's all Derren Brown does. He goes on, clasps his hands together and starts trying to undress the viewing audience with his eyes, slowly charming us into a full sense of stupidity.
"TONIGHT" he declares with all the slimey pomp of a cartoon devil "I will do the impossible!" - and you're thinking, shit, how, that's like...impossible. Not if you possess the magical and psycho-suggestive powers of lying like Derren Brown does! A man who smiles sideways so much cannot be trusted. Well everyone, TONIGHT, I, CHARLES MEYRICK, WILL ANSWER A QUESTION THAT HAS PLAGUED MAN KIND SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, SINCE THEY FIRST LOOKED UP AT THE STARS ALL THOSE AEONS AGO; just WHY, do people buy into Derren Browns bullshit?
So here are the things he claimed to do:
1. How to Win the Lottery:
Derren's system was a cunning one. Oh sure, he almost had me going there for a second. Except he didn't because I'm not a total boob. His theory was that if he got some people in a room to randomly guess some numbers then they would all average out as the national lottery results. It didn't. But I was distracted by the uplifting comradery of the 'contestants', or 'players' or whatever they were, so much so that I completely forgot what Derren was trying to do, until he told me he'd done it, in which case I believed him. He must have. There was simply no other explanation. Apart from the one he offered himself. No, I'm sorry, even admitting to your lies and failure doesn't save you here Browny boy, because you just marketed a programme for weeks, on the fact that you could do it. No you can't.
I've actually got a show coming out soon where I jump over a pit of crocodiles and through rings of fire on a motorbike; you won't see it happen, but you'll see me standing by a motorbike 'afterwards' saying that I've done it, so logically, I probably have. In fact, I just did it. Just then, you missed it because I used a Darren Brown mind trick on you and it activated the gullibility gland in your brain. You may feel a stinging sensation.
2.How To Control The Nation:
Yes I will. I did. The only thing keeping people in their seats for this enlightening installment of Derren Brown was Peep Show; thank goodness we don't have to put up with that happening anymore.
3. How to be a Psychic Spy:
Oh yes, all that bollocks with the drawing! Woooo! I can't believed paid extras and members of the public could have come up with the same place like that! It's truly a feat of mind for Derren to be able communicate psychically with the whole, bloody nation! Yowser.
I noticed that the people who text in "live" were clearly pikies. The number of people who text in was very few, but put it this way. You believe you have just been psychically linked with the entire nation for a few moments - you're amazed, you're flabagasted, you've simple never been so painfully wide-eyed to all the possibilities that the world has to offer; so to express all this you send a text message into a television show that ends in "lolz". I can quite clearly tell that this person is a gormless idiot, minus any psychic powers whatsoever. Smug old Derren Brown does it again! This man has two tricks, roping in suggestive, brain-dead goonbags, and the other is convincing Channel 4 to keep allowing him on television.
Why do 'actual' psychics get so visibly debunked, yet we are quite happy to allow someone in a smarmy suit to tell us that what he's going to do before obviously failing? At least 'actual' psychics are so ridiculous that we can laugh at them, but Derren Brown just stands there, zooming around in pseudo excitement with this smug look on his face. I'd be fucking smug too if I could fool as many dullards as he does on a Friday night.
4. How to Beat the Casino:
What with the success of his previous money squandering gambit where he convinced a nation in economic turmoil to buy tens and tens of lottery tickets, this time Derren thought he'd send us all packing off to the money grabbing casinos. I mean does this guy have some deal going with wankers that like to take our money? Is he being financed by Bet360 or something? Does he get 10% everytime he sends a gullible dickhead their way?
Did Derren Brown beat the casino then? No. It went terribly and the guy lost all his money. Oh sadness. He ought to have lost his home for even going near Derren Brown, it's literally like making a deal with the devil. Say his name three times and he'll appear in your room, rub his hands together, look smug, and then fail miserably. Don't even bother giving him chores to do or anything either, because an hour later he'd tell you he was done, that the leaky tap you gave him was fine now and that he'd be on his way. Minutes later water from the tap would burst forth, and you'd realise that once again, Derren Brown had lied. He mislead you. He said he'd done something, and he hadn't done it to nearly a satisfactory level.
Ladies and gentleman, Derren Brown, is a psychic builder. I wouldn't be surprised if he came round to inspect your brain and then told you that you had a faulty Idiot Valve and that he had to fix it for thrice as much because he had to order the parts out from Channel 4's 'Moron Division'. Idiot.
So there you have it. It's all over. The arrogantly named 'EVENTS' has come to an end. And if you missed the EVENTS, watch them on 4OD, as in, 4, OH DEAR this is shit. Derren Brown for all intents and purposes is the ultimate magician. Nothing up his sleeves, nothing up his trousers and in fact little substance in the things he does anywhere at all. I crown him a King amongst tossers.
He doesn't, case closed. Anyone can go on national television and claim to do anything, and that's all Derren Brown does. He goes on, clasps his hands together and starts trying to undress the viewing audience with his eyes, slowly charming us into a full sense of stupidity.
"TONIGHT" he declares with all the slimey pomp of a cartoon devil "I will do the impossible!" - and you're thinking, shit, how, that's like...impossible. Not if you possess the magical and psycho-suggestive powers of lying like Derren Brown does! A man who smiles sideways so much cannot be trusted. Well everyone, TONIGHT, I, CHARLES MEYRICK, WILL ANSWER A QUESTION THAT HAS PLAGUED MAN KIND SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, SINCE THEY FIRST LOOKED UP AT THE STARS ALL THOSE AEONS AGO; just WHY, do people buy into Derren Browns bullshit?
So here are the things he claimed to do:
1. How to Win the Lottery:
Derren's system was a cunning one. Oh sure, he almost had me going there for a second. Except he didn't because I'm not a total boob. His theory was that if he got some people in a room to randomly guess some numbers then they would all average out as the national lottery results. It didn't. But I was distracted by the uplifting comradery of the 'contestants', or 'players' or whatever they were, so much so that I completely forgot what Derren was trying to do, until he told me he'd done it, in which case I believed him. He must have. There was simply no other explanation. Apart from the one he offered himself. No, I'm sorry, even admitting to your lies and failure doesn't save you here Browny boy, because you just marketed a programme for weeks, on the fact that you could do it. No you can't.
I've actually got a show coming out soon where I jump over a pit of crocodiles and through rings of fire on a motorbike; you won't see it happen, but you'll see me standing by a motorbike 'afterwards' saying that I've done it, so logically, I probably have. In fact, I just did it. Just then, you missed it because I used a Darren Brown mind trick on you and it activated the gullibility gland in your brain. You may feel a stinging sensation.
2.How To Control The Nation:
Yes I will. I did. The only thing keeping people in their seats for this enlightening installment of Derren Brown was Peep Show; thank goodness we don't have to put up with that happening anymore.
3. How to be a Psychic Spy:
Oh yes, all that bollocks with the drawing! Woooo! I can't believed paid extras and members of the public could have come up with the same place like that! It's truly a feat of mind for Derren to be able communicate psychically with the whole, bloody nation! Yowser.
I noticed that the people who text in "live" were clearly pikies. The number of people who text in was very few, but put it this way. You believe you have just been psychically linked with the entire nation for a few moments - you're amazed, you're flabagasted, you've simple never been so painfully wide-eyed to all the possibilities that the world has to offer; so to express all this you send a text message into a television show that ends in "lolz". I can quite clearly tell that this person is a gormless idiot, minus any psychic powers whatsoever. Smug old Derren Brown does it again! This man has two tricks, roping in suggestive, brain-dead goonbags, and the other is convincing Channel 4 to keep allowing him on television.
Why do 'actual' psychics get so visibly debunked, yet we are quite happy to allow someone in a smarmy suit to tell us that what he's going to do before obviously failing? At least 'actual' psychics are so ridiculous that we can laugh at them, but Derren Brown just stands there, zooming around in pseudo excitement with this smug look on his face. I'd be fucking smug too if I could fool as many dullards as he does on a Friday night.
4. How to Beat the Casino:
What with the success of his previous money squandering gambit where he convinced a nation in economic turmoil to buy tens and tens of lottery tickets, this time Derren thought he'd send us all packing off to the money grabbing casinos. I mean does this guy have some deal going with wankers that like to take our money? Is he being financed by Bet360 or something? Does he get 10% everytime he sends a gullible dickhead their way?
Did Derren Brown beat the casino then? No. It went terribly and the guy lost all his money. Oh sadness. He ought to have lost his home for even going near Derren Brown, it's literally like making a deal with the devil. Say his name three times and he'll appear in your room, rub his hands together, look smug, and then fail miserably. Don't even bother giving him chores to do or anything either, because an hour later he'd tell you he was done, that the leaky tap you gave him was fine now and that he'd be on his way. Minutes later water from the tap would burst forth, and you'd realise that once again, Derren Brown had lied. He mislead you. He said he'd done something, and he hadn't done it to nearly a satisfactory level.
Ladies and gentleman, Derren Brown, is a psychic builder. I wouldn't be surprised if he came round to inspect your brain and then told you that you had a faulty Idiot Valve and that he had to fix it for thrice as much because he had to order the parts out from Channel 4's 'Moron Division'. Idiot.
So there you have it. It's all over. The arrogantly named 'EVENTS' has come to an end. And if you missed the EVENTS, watch them on 4OD, as in, 4, OH DEAR this is shit. Derren Brown for all intents and purposes is the ultimate magician. Nothing up his sleeves, nothing up his trousers and in fact little substance in the things he does anywhere at all. I crown him a King amongst tossers.
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