No no; you’re mistaken, it’s always been ‘the Weekly Recommendation’. Always. What is this ‘Wednesday Recommendation’ you speak ov? No, the segment’s called ‘the Weekly Recommendation’. Weekly. Yes. DON’T QUESTION ME!

WHAT D’YE CALL IT? A necktie, a tie, a cravat, etc

A ‘NECK WHAT’? IS THAT SOME SORT OF DUCK? Nooooo, a necktie. I suppose, in a pinch, you could put them under the heading ov ‘accessories’, but I’d hardly associate them with hats, gloves & shoes

WHY ARE YOU RECOMMENDING THIS TO ME, THE SEXY AND NUBILE READER OF ‘SHOUTING TO HEAR THE ECHOES’? Because a tie can add up to +15 Coolness Factor to anyone. See what it did for these lads? A tie can do the same for you.

I would have to say that one ov the few positive things that I got out ov nine years ov catholic school, apart from a raging, unbridled hatred ov christianity (and a love for catholic schoolgirl uniforms), would be an fine appreciation ov the necktie. I think I was probably like any kid when I’d started wearing them, hating this thing, this bizarre & useless strip ov fabric round my neck. Well, actually, on my collar, as we were issued clip-on ties in gradeschool, which would understandably be enough to make anyone rebel against the concept ov ties, provided they didn’t know that real ties existed. But over time, and especially round late 9th grade, when my sense ov fashion started to congeal into what(ever) it is now, my affinity for ties grew. Since our school dress code required boys to wear shortsleeved Polo or imitation-Polo shirts, I often found myself wearing ties with my button-down dress shirts outside ov school, as wearing a tie with a Polo shirt is just fucking stupid. I tended to favour a burgundy knit tie with a squared-off bottom, then I moved up to a charcoal grey knit tie, which I still wear to this day. In my mind, a tie completes the ‘uniform’ dress sense that I still use and abuse at my considerable age.
I don’t own a lot ov ties — six, at current count — but I wear the shit out ov the ones I have. Part ov the reason that I don’t have an armada ov neckties is that I’m very particular about the type ov cravat I’ll buy. Being a child ov the 80s, the only ones I’ll don are skinny ties that are no wider than 2 inches. And no, I don’t have the one with the piano keys on it; even I have to draw the line somewhere.

Most blokes, by & large, abhor wearing ties, and once the clock strikes 4pm, they’ll rip that sucker off their necks as soon as they physically can. It could be argued that the necktie is synonymous with the workaday world, and once the work day’s done, it’s time to cut loose and par-tay, and you can’t very well do that with a tie on. Due to my naturally contrarian nature — heh — I personally find habitually dressing in a t-shirt & jeans to be rather uncomfortable and awkward, and since I don’t have enough necklaces and pendants to go round, that means it’s time for ties. Ties give a person a professional appearance, no matter what you’re doing — look at the film ‘Reservoir dogs’, or the Crazy 88s from ‘Kill Bill’, as examples — and I always think a nice slim tie on a lass is sssexy. Just because you’re sporting a necktie doesn’t make you yuppie scum, and thank Odhinn for that..

O, and I should mention that I will have no truck whatsoever with bowties. Bowties are an abberation, and are almost thoroughly useless. I hated them before I did a three-year tour ov duty as an usher at a movie theatre, and I hate them now. I would sooner wear one ov those hideous Don Cherry-style dress shirts with the heavily-starched oversized mutant collar before I wear a bowtie ever again

WHAT WOULD BE YOUR FAVOURITE BIT(S)? The, err, Windsor knot

SHOULD I EVEN ASK ABOUT A LINK? If I were you, I wouldn’t

NEXT WEEK: Vowels, rampant and unrestrained, battling a scourge ov consonants

I’d have to say that the one way that the tragedies ov 9/11 have affected me on a personal & immediate level is that I can no longer drive out to Metro or City airport to hang out in the lobby and take photos ov the architecture. I’m a sucker for post-Modern buildings — I dig Ballardian structures like car parks, airports, subway stations.. if there’s concrete and/or glass involved, chances are I’ll love it. The city in Jacques Tati’s ‘Playtime’ is an excellent example, as seen here.

(I’d like to add here that finding stills ov the legendary ‘Tativille’, as the set was dubbed, is unnecessarily difficult, so do yourself a favour, and visit the site..)

One ov the things I never really got a chance to do a whole lot was motor out to Metro Airport and spend the day there, taking photos and people-watching, as it was too far ov a drive for me at the time. (Still too far, actually..) I could’ve gone to City more often, I suppose, as it’s kinda near downtown Detriot, but it’s not the most exciting airport in the world — it was like 1/5th the size ov Metro and boasted about four terminals — and now it’s closed, for all intents and purposes.

Out ov all the post-modern structures that I can think ov off the top ov my head, I’d say that I love airports the most. I guess my romantic retro mind still associates airports with the Jet Age ov the late Fifties and Sixties, when that lovely omnipresent keening whine ov jet engines meant that your plane, Pan American Flight 2305 from London to Tokyo, would be embarking soon. Also, with some ov the newer airports, you have those super fab subway systems that ferry passengers from one end ov the concourse to the other. I think that especially those airports that feature subways exemplify why I dig them so very much — they’re like self-contained Cities Ov The Future. Anything that evokes the urban layouts ov Logan’s run, 2001: A space odyssey, THX 1138, Gerry Anderson’s UFO and Space: 1999 makes me a happy Davecat. Airports are a glimpse ov the future that the past said we’d be living in — minus the dystopia, ov course..

But yeah, the freewheeling days ov airport photography are gone. I mean, I’m sure as a nation the United states might get relaxed enough to one day drop down from amber alert to, err, brown alert or whatever, but I’m fairly certain I’ll have long since moved to Toronto before that happens..
As an aside, might I add that I may not be able to hang about in Toronto’s airport, but two things more than make up for that: their subway system and Eaton Centre. Hell, one ov the subway stops is Eaton Centre! O, Canada. 🙂

(posted on Thursday, but written on Wednesday. Please direct all complaints to that brick wall over there)

WHAT D’YE CALL IT? Katamari damacy

IS IT ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, OR MINERAL? a game for the Sony PlayStation 2

WHY ARE YOU RECOMMENDING THIS TO ME, THE SUAVE AND DEBONAIR READER OF ‘SHOUTING TO HEAR THE ECHOES’? It is, in the truest possible sense, a game that can be enjoyed by everyone. It’s innovative, it’s simple, it’s highly addictive, and most importantly, it’s a pantsful ov fun.
You control the Prince of All Cosmos, a 1cm fellow with a rather wide head. One night previously, the King of All Cosmos, a similarly wide-headed individual, had a night on the tiles, and ended up smashing every single star out ov the sky, so he’s naturally delegated the responsibility ov cleaning up the mess to his son, just like a real dad. Heh.
So! The Prince has been sent down to Earth with a sticky ball called a katamari, and has to roll up as much stuff as possible to make enormous junk balls, so the King can turn said balls into stars. I am not making this up. You can pick up anything and everything in this game, and I literally mean ‘anything and everything’ — the only thing you can’t pick up is water. One ov the more delirious stages is Make a Star 6. You start out on a table in a livingroom, rolling up dice and 9-volt batteries, and by the end, you’re rolling up bulldozers and houses. And that’s nothing compared to the final stage, where you have to rebuild the Moon. Fecking ace. 🙂

WHAT WOULD BE YOUR FAVOURITE BIT(S)? O, I dunno, probably the whole damn game. The soundtrack, the sound effects, the Kubrick-esque character design (that’s the Japanese figures, not the film maestro, just so we’re clear), the simplicity ov gameplay (you use both analogue sticks to manoeuvre the ball. That’s it), the replay value, the King’s lysergic/sarcastic quips (‘We hope you can visit Portugal during the day’s rolling. Like that’s possible.’), all ov it’s ace. Did I mention that this game, this slice ov joy burned onto a DVD-ROM, is only $20 USD?? You have absolutely no excuse to pick it up & give it a spin (please pardon bad pun)

WHERE IS THE LINKAGE LOVE? Right here. Here, I say!

NEXT WEEK: Another glowing but frothing review, with quite possibly more descriptive and somewhat unnecessary adjectives!

Originally the plan for the first Sexy Action Installment ov ‘the Wednesday Recommendation’ was for me to go on about my brand spank-me new copy ov Katamari damacy, but the GameStop where I’d reserved my copy hadn’t gotten the shipment in yet, the cakefuckers. Grrr. Perhaps I’ll do my frothing recommendation ov that next week..
So without further ado, here’s this thing..

WHAT D’YE CALL IT? Shaun of the Dead

WHAT IS IT? a feature film

WHY ARE YOU RECOMMENDING THIS TO ME, THE HIP AND SAVVY READER OF ‘SHOUTING TO HEAR THE ECHOES’? Cos any film, zombie-related or otherwise, that has people whacking the bollocks out ov a zombie in time to the rhythm ov Queen’s ‘Don’t stop me now’ deserves to be seen by everyone.
Jeff & I caught this at the Main art theatre last Friday, as he had managed to score a pair ov free passes. We’d seen the trailer a couple ov weeks previously, and were pretty impressed, and I can honestly say the film itself was better than the trailer (which is an increasingly rare statement these days). Shaun, a late-twentynothing slacker, is stuck in a dead-end job, has a flailing relationship with his long-suffering girlfriend Liz, and lives with Ed, who is even more ov a slacker than he is. The normal routine ov spending the eve down the pub for the billionth time gets a bit shaken up when zombies begin to overrun the city. Can Shaun rescue his mum and reconcile with Liz? Moreover, can he do these things before they call time down at the local pub?

WHAT WOULD BE YOUR FAVOURITE BIT(S)? The homage to ‘Reservoir dogs’ scene, and the surprise guest appearances by someone from ‘The Office’ and someone from ‘The League of Gentlemen’

HAVE YOU GOT A LINK FOR THIS, THEN? Why yes!

So how was that?
NEXT WEEK: More ov the same

Alreet, I’m giving this a spin: In order to write, or at the very least, add something to this godforsaken Blog at least once a week, we’re trying this idea on — the WEDNESDAY RECOMMENDATION. Every Wednesday, I’ll give brief kudos to something that I think everyone should look into, whether it’s a Cd, a book, a fillum or videogame. It may even be a concept, such as the Soul of Man Under Socialism. (cue Jeff & Monti snickering) I figure this way, if I write about things I like, I’ll always have something to write about, non?*

THE EXCITEMENT STARTS TOMORROW. Cos tomorrow is Wednesday. See how that works?

*Actually non; it’s a safe bet that there are a hell ov a lot more things in life that I hate than things I like, but frankly, I don’t have that kind ov typin’ time

One ov the ace things about living in this century is the many fab and useful inventions that we can integrate into our daily lives. The wheel. The microwave. The combination cellphone/PalmPilot. The RealDoll. Well, now you can add pyrithione zinc shampoo to that list. Have you tried this stuff? I picked it up on a whim last week when I needed some more shampoo; I usually get the standard dry scalp version ov Head & Shoulders, but I decided to grab the new pyrithione zinc variation, as it boasted ov a ‘cooling sensation’ on the front ov the bottle. And they weren’t lying! It’s as if they injected pure and unrefined peppermint into the bottle. It is truly a cooling sensation not found in any other shampoo; that is, unless you habitually wash your hair with milkshakes. It’s very refreshing!

Ov course, just you wait; ten years down the road, the AMA will undoubtedly release a statement that repeated usage ov pyrithione zinc-based shampoos will cause explosive brain haemmorhages. ‘AARGH IT TINGLES’ *pfft thud*

Wow, Monti’s writing in bulk. Nice!

So there’s the tinkling and while I know damn well Doug has heard it, he makes like he’s in a coma. I know that ploy. I invented that ploy, and dammit he’s good at it. I get up to investigate, and Zeus meets me at the bedroom door. This is a bad sign. This means that Zeus has come to tattle. Zeus cannot jump to places higher than the couch due to a childhood injury (his childhood, not mine) and he has come to tell me that Loki has done something he cannot do, and he resents it so much, he’s going to get Loki in trouble. He practically runs to the window to show me – “see, see what he did. I would never do that, I’m the good one.” Sure enough, Loki has managed to push out the screen, causing it to sit askew in the jamb and letting every bug within a four-block radius into the apartment.

In the future, when she finally becomes the internationally-famous screenwriter that she’s been working on being for the past decade or so, I only hope that she remembers that I catsat for her on a few occasions, so that when I visit her palatial estates, she’ll be less likely to sic armed robotic guard dogs on me. Well, not all ov them, at any rate.
Go visit her Backroom, if you haven’t already. LEAVE AT ONCE!!

Interesting Anecdote™: A couple ov Saturdays ago, Monti & I were hanging around outside ov her apartment, after an interesting / amusing afternoon spent at a Japanese cultural festival. It was evening at that point, and Zeus was outside, wandering around, as is his wont. Now since you’ve never met Zeus before, I will describe him. He is a charming cat who says ‘meh meh’ instead ov ‘miaow’, studied two years ov law at Cambridge, and has markings that make him resemble a scale-model milk cow. (As seen here with his sparring partner Loki.) Anyway, as we were busy nattering on about whatever, a party broke up at the apartment complex next door, and the patrons were stumbling their way down the street. One ov them caught sight ov Zeus ambling across the road and remarked, ‘Dude, look — it’s, like, a mini-cow!’ O, how we chuckled