I won't bang on too uch about this, it's been all over the US news for months. For those unaware (not sure there has ben much saturation outside the US) - here it is in brief:
Michael Vick is a very famous NFL player and also a very talented one. He's about to be convicted of running a 6 year dog fighting operation out of his home called Bad Newz Kennels. his operation included him being involved in the fights and executing fighting dogs, also running the gambling operation.
In 2004 he signed a 10 year $130 million dollar contract with the Falcons with a $37 million dollar sign on fee which made him the highest paid sports player on the planet. Last year he earned $8,401,980 and that was just from the Falcons and none of his many endorsements.
That means he did this for fun.
Here's how you treat dogs. Animals like Vick and his compadres on the other hand - how about they are submitted to the same fate as the creatures they tortured and killed for kicks? Seems fair to me, bu then I am not a very nice person.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I won't bang on too uch about this, it's been all over the US news for months. For those unaware (not sure there has ben much saturation outside the US) - here it is in brief:
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
......we'd all be sat in caves trying to work out if rocks are edible.
I'll give you an example. This example does involve me revealing that my Saturday night consisted of cider, chili and the Witchfinder General, but you already knew that I am a classy classy party animal right?
Incidentally, as an aside - the 24 year old director of the Witchfinder General, Michael Reeves, often clashed with Vincent Price about his over acting. The story goes that Price eventually lost his rag and snapped 'Young man, I have made 84 films! How many have you done?', 'Two good ones' came the reply.
Anyway, back to the subject. Before this awesome film came on I found myself watching QI on UKTV Gold, or some channel like it. When the ads came on, I phased out as you do and pootled about the kitchen cleaning up after my cooking - when I came back in I was greeted with the words :
'The most advanced piece of technology you will ever pee on!'.
Now it seemed to me that it was an incredibly bizarre thing to be proud of, and it was said with great American accented gusto. Like all the best innovations the world has ever seen should first be unrinated on before they could be taken seriously. It's an odd criteria because as we all know, men will pretty much relieve themseleves anywhere and on anything when caught short - especially after a few drinks.
Then the ad continued and, rather disappointingly, was for a pregnancy test, which at least added some exclusivity to the tag line. If it was for a product that was a bit more unisex, I would imagine trading standards would have a flurry of complaints from drunks insisting that they once pissed against a Lamborghini Diablo and that surely that was waaaaaay more advanced than the thing on that bollox advert.
This in itself is odd, it's certainly a statement that would mke a man sit up and take notice. Not so much the weeing part but the 'Most advanced piece of technology......' part. [Delete]That is a line to sell things to men[/Delete] That is the kind of strap line I would expect to see in something aimed at men. Just look a razors, Gillette have a business model based entirely on adding more blades to razors - 'Each one shaves closer than the last'. Pretty soon we'll be flaying the skin of our faces, allbeit with an aloe vera strip and gentle battery powered vibrations. But it'll be OK because 'It's the most advanced razor in the world!' and it will sell like hot cakes. Women, in my limited experience, would rather something which says 'This works really well[Edit] and is better than product X because.....!' and couldn't give a flying toss whether its made out of the same stuff as the NASA moonlander or not. They really didn't think it through - pregnancy tests are something of a necessity and selling them in the same way as you would sell a new TV seems slightly odd to me.
On the other hand it has made me remember the product, if only to mock it and think of jet powered pregnancy tests, hover pregancy tests etc.
Having said that, in the world of 'technology that you pee on', how much competition is there to get the coveted 'Most advanced thing you will ever pee on' title? I can't think of any other products you have to wee on to get them to work. How advanced are the toilets aboard the ISS?
Biscuits, squows and things you wee on. I told you I was classy.
*If you check out the comments you'll see I ballsed up in explaining what I was driving at re: advertising directed at men vs that directed at women so I edited the post. It's probably no clearer but I know what I meant so I'll stop caring now :p
Friday, August 24, 2007
This is kind of an addendum to a previous post. I've found that simply typing out my more visceral thoughts without publishing them is having quite a cathartic effect whilst actually saving you from reading about precisely what I think should be done with reality TV and anyone involved in it (In this case).
This means I can focus what you actually get to see on here, the important business of biscuit worth, why hasn't God yet made the Squow and other amazing special reports,
Really I should write something about the irony of my use of the word 'Cathartic' to describe what I write, given its alternate meaning. I'm sure you guys could probably write that one yourselves though ;)
Thursday, August 23, 2007
During the great biscuit debate I stumbled on this awesome website called nicecupofteaandasitdown. This is possibly the best domain name I have ever seen with the possible exception of infinitecat. They even do biscuit of the week which is awesome. While they don't declaim the bourbon as a harbinger of evil, they do say that pretty much its only worthy feature is its uniform size and thus could be used as some standard biscuit measurement. On the other hand they don't praise the Hobnob nearly enough for my liking - it really should have a page unto itself.
I also discovered that the inventors of the Bourbon were also responsible for the Garibaldi - another crime against confection.
I have yet to discover anything goodly about this biscuit.
Posted by MattJ at 1:37 pm
Over the last couple of weeks I've drafted and scrapped about 7 different blog entries but lost the desire to put them up here about half way through writing them. Among the subjects: Chicken and its status as a 'superfood' in ready meals, the rubbishness of salmon, cous cous - semolina by any other name, Steve Jobs and fanboiyz, Mac temptation.... I forget the rest.
Anyway, I got half way through them and they either degenerated into something I didn't want to write or I just got bored. I actually wrote one about work just for the purposes of venting some frustrations but there was no need to post it as by the time I had bashed out words like 'retarded, sub literate baboon', 'goat-ee beard growing, power suit wearing waste of blood and organs who has trouble reading pop-up books' and various other choice phrases I had lost the will to bother worrying about it anymore. Also, who the hell cares about my day? lol!
So basically, in the absence of anything funny to say about Chickens in capes; Salmon in batter; tepid cous cous with a dollop of jam on served by a surly old woman in a pastel tabard; Steve Jobs' Messianic delusions or my apparent weakness to Mac's (not because they are any good but because they are pretty) - I haven't posted anything. I started writing this one in the hope that inspiration would strike, as it is it hasn't. Although I am very proud of the fact that I have been blogging for 2 years and the most lively debates I have managed to start are about creationism (a few different posts about that!) and the inexplicable popularity of the bourbon biscuit.
Actually not inexplicable, lots of people think that cats aren't Evil bundles of malice just awaiting their opportunity to overthrow humanity so that we all become slaves under their vicious dominion. So it's not entirely surprising that bourbon biscuits are not widely recognised as the crunchy brown sandwiches of Satan poo that they actually are.
Actually that didn't turn out so bad.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Once again I have turned my incredible powers of insight and perception to one of the pressing issues of the day.
When I was little, back when fire was merely the stuff of a madman's dreams, my mum used to shop at our local supermarket. She had 3 boys plus my dad. This is basically the same as feeding a plague of locusts. Locusts with a thyroid imbalance. Anyway, she bought a lot of food and so had to economise. One of the best things she used to buy was bags of broken biscuits. These were large bags filled with random assormtents of broken biscuits, that hadn't passed muster to make it into their normal retail packaging.
These things were awesome and contained huge amounts of biscuity-goodness for very little cash. Now while I admit I don't shop at the same place as my mum used to, I do shop quite a lot because contrary to the evidence of my blog I am actually all growed up. But the broken biscuits of my distant youth no longer seem to be available. Has biscuit forming technology really improved so much that every biscuit produced is pristine and perfectly formed? Or perhaps biscuits are made of tougher stuff these days? (Certainly not the case with Rich Tea biccies - blech!). And if that is the case then surely these scientists and engineers could have been better employed working on cures for diseases and making hoverboards? Were broken bisuits such a pressing issue that such time and effort to reduce breakage was required?
If any of you know of retailers of broken biscuits in the Surrey area please let me know, I miss the surprise of biting into a biscuit and discovering that Orange Creams actually exist.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Last year I made a plea to Cadbury. It was a plea to stop their madness. Sadly they didn't listen, and we are all paying the price. They thought they could play God, they thought that the natural order of things did not apply to them. They thought that by transmuting Egg into Bar they would conquer the confectionary world.
I warned them in strong terms of the dangers of playing with forces beyond their understanding but still they continued to sell the blasphemous bar. Not one, but two women succumb to John Prescott's charms, yet still they continue. Tony Blair is made Peace Envoy to the middle east and still they continue. Floods beset our lands and still they toy with the forces of nature.
Someone needs to take a stand against this filth, against this violation of all that is good and pure in this world. But no one person can do this alone - we must each find out who the sick, sick, perverted freaks are who buy these diseased chocolate bars and stop them. By any means necessary.
Friday, August 10, 2007
I personally contend the latter. The man even brags about his wicked deeds, one only has to analyse the lyrics to popular love ballad "Love Grows(where my Rosemary goes) to see the truth behind this sick and brilliant killer.
"She ain't got no money, Her clothes are kinda funny, Her hair is kinda wild and free" - Tony cruelly mocks a poor girl who has clearly fallen on hard times who perhaps can't afford the latest fashions or the price of a good hairdresser.
The second verse is as follows:
"She talks kinda lazy, And people say she she's crazy, And her life's a mystery - Clearly Tony has started some vicious rumours about her being mentally ill, and that perhaps her behaviour is inexplicable by normal standards.....but for what reason?.....
Sadly, the reasons become all too clear in the sinister and devilish chorus:
"Love grows.." -Love here clearly means a woman's love - Tony has woven a tale in which the poor subject falls for a charming facade. We all know from our knowledge of floristry that a woman's love is denoted by pink carnations. Clearly he is growing Pink Carnations....but where?...
"...where my Rosemary goes - Here the song takes a sinister turn, Tony has quite obviously murdered Rosemary in cold blood. 'Goes' in this sense doesn't mean where someone happens to go to, but rather in the 'it belongs here' sense. 'The salt goes in the cupboard', 'The milk goes in the fridge', 'Rosemary goes under ground, in the allotments'. He's murdered the poor woman, after publicly destroying her character and in a final cruel joke has planted pink carnations over her resting place
and finally the chorus finishes with this chilling line:
"...and nobody knows like me..." - Without evidence of a person, body, murder, motive or even any crime at all the Police are powerless to act against this madman
After destroying Rosemary's character in public, her disappearance would not of raised any suspicion as she was 'crazy' and a 'mystery' - a perfect crime. One day we can hope to bring Tony Burrows to justice, but that day doesn't look like it will happen soon.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
In a move that has stunned parents and parents-to-be across the globe, White Stripes front man Jack White revealed the name of his first born baby.
From our own correspondent:
"Henry Lee" - the name hangs like a convicted 15th century turnip thief in the stunned silence of the press conference. A silence broken only by the unrestrained retching of the normally Iron-Stomached Hello! reporter, and quiet but open weeping from the OK! contingent.
White, wisely, kept the conference brief - one can only imagine that this was to prevent a potential lynching by the outraged parents present. Soon reactions from responsible parents across the globe start to flood in.
First in the door was mother of 3 Katie "Jordan" Price, mother of Princess Tiáamii. "I think it's a disgrace! How is that child supposed to live with a name like that? I don't know how things are in America, but here we expect our celebrities to behave a certain way. How are chavs supposed to pick names for their children with that kind of example?!". Her sentiments were echoed by Bob "Jesus" Geldof in much stronger terms. Sir Bob, father of Fifi Trixabelle, Peaches Honeyblossom and Little Pixie (also legal guardian of Heavenly Hiraani Tigerlily) demanded "immediate action from the American Child Protection thingy! Or whatever it's called....". When pressed on what kind of action, he was heard to mumble something about not liking Mondays and the need to press his linen suit with enormous rolled up wads of cash whilst preaching about curing poverty.
Last in the first line of Brits to criticise White's choice of baby name was floppy haired, eighties, Duran Duran front man and New Romantic - Simon LeBon. "The man simply has no excuse for picking a name like that. Take me for instance, I have 3 children, and I have no objection to Jack following my fine example. All you need is a Dulux Colour chart and you have infinite baby names! My three are Amber Rose Tamara, Saffron Sahara and Tallulah Pine and I only used their Spring range!"
Then it was the turn of the Americans. From the Vegas show hacks like Penn Jilette (father of Moxie CrimeFighter) calling for White's blood, though that was mainly for his stage show with along Sooty impersonator and partner - Teller. Later in the day Cher, mother of the ironically named Chastity, was heard to demand a return to "traditional Hollywood values". Even going so far as to suggest legislation regulating against "naming one's offspring based on anything other than a whim or flight of fancy".
Actress Shannyn Sossamon (mother of Audio Science) said that 'We should all follow the forward thinking antipodeans in their naming culture, where only backward bureaucrats prevent perfectly normal and legitimate naming practices'.
New Zealand couple the Wheatons have been forced to name their child Superman (Nicholas Cage - father of Ka-lel, approves) purely because of the stone age government not allowing them to call the poor child 4Real. "We're hoping he won't get bullied at school to be honest. After 4Real was rejected we really had to think on our feet" says Pat Wheaton. "Yeah, we think he'll be right though - we reckon there is someone called Keith starting the same year as him so little Superman should avoid any being picked on stuff". Asked about Jack's choice of baby name, they responded with now all too familiar vomit and horror. "That's awful! What's he trying to do to that poor child?" exclaimed a now inconsolable Sheena.
From this harrowing experience, I can report that there has been an unbelievable coming together of parents across the world. They are all uniformly appalled by the selfish; self aggrandising, sickening and virtually criminal disregard for potential damage such stupid a naming convention may cause to a child. There is a fund that you can all contribute to that may persuade Jack to rename that poor boy.
The front runner right now is Fustian Charade.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Seriously, like this county could become any more intrinsically Evil. I bet if we dig hard enough we'll discover that Celine Dion has roots here...."This is for the Children". Really, cos it looks to us like it's for the huge sacks of cash you screeching harpy.
Anyway, Surrey and it's quest for Palm trees in Horsham. To lay it entirely at the feet of Surrey may seem a little extreme to you, but first you need to see Surrey in the same way as that Island in Lost* in that it has it's own character and personality. Stop seeing it as a place where people live and more like a big, greasy, introverted money and hope vaccuum and you'll get a good starting point.
So if I want to travel anywhere I have to take the train or some other public transport. Something I was doing for years before I moved down here, coping without a car very well thankyouverymuch! And nothing has really changed in terms of the coping and need. What has changed is the pain, hassle and expense of going anywhere that isn't here. If you go by train, the fares seem to suggest that they are going to take you to your destination on a gilded, supersonic hover-train. This is not the case. Not at all. Think Dutch Veal calves.
The National Express can be really good if you get one of their cheap fares and manage to locate a direct service that has a short journey time (for short, read 'under a week'). While you're looking, can you also pick me up some chicken teeth and rocking horse poo?
So, you may have guessed I have been off on my travels. I went to Plymouth to visit Laura for a weekend of booze, junk food and Transformers. It was very more awesomer and a good time was had by all. Well, by me. I'm sure you'll agree that's the only bit that matters. We had drinks, we mooched around Plymouth and went to see Hollywood amazingly NOT shatter one of my childhood memories. Was great to see Laura again, and meet her 'Vince from The Boosh'-esque blokey and consume soem ropey take aways. the only flaw was that it all in all it was a total journey time of 15.5 hours to travel 400 miles.
All of this started kicking my gadget senses trying to persuade me to buy a car again. Which is frustrating because I am all in favour of public transport but there isn't enough of it outside London, it's too expensive and the entire system appears to be run by blind monkeys with no hands. No, that's wrong. Blind Monkeys with no hands that instead of bananas and stuff, can only subsist on a constant supply of the public's money that has to be fed to them by Celine Dion tribute acts.
Maybe it's not all Surrey's fault that it's difficult and expensive to go everywhere. Maybe just because everything else is dificult and expensive here I don't have to lay the blame of Public transport and my ultimate move towards automotiveness firmly at it's feet? Nah....sod it! Global Warming starts and ends with Surrey. "Burn the Big 'ouse! Are ya with me laaaaads?!"
Tomorrow - How the Daily Mail started the inquisition.......
*I gave up on Lost half way through season 2 after it disappeared up it's own arse and my urge to kill Jack, Kate and Sawyer could no longer be contained. As ever, a lack of actual knowledge will not prevent me from commenting.