Sdtrk: ‘Chelsea’ by Hiem

Allow me to open with an anecdote: a couple of weeks ago, I saw a general practitioner for the first time in about four years. After seeing how tall I am (5’7″ — all these years you thought I was lying, Monti, but now I have proof) and weighing me (124 lbs), he chuckled and asked, ‘Have you always been skinny?’ ‘I think this would be the most I’ve ever weighed,’ I replied. True story!

If I had my way, my diet would be almost exactly like Andy Warhol’s: basically living on pills. On the other hand, I don’t want to die like Elvis: the autopsy found that his faeces was white (‘were white’?), due to the vast amount of prescription drugs he was gobbling. Alternatively, I’d subsist almost entirely on Japanese cuisine, as it’s both healthy and Magickally Delicious, but unfortunately, it’s also a bit pricey, and I can’t cook worth a damn. Eating is such a bloody hassle sometimes, but until the day when they develop entire meals in capsule form, it has to be done like everyone else…
Over the years, there have been a few remarkable items of food and drink that stand out due to their deliciousness. Unfortunately, we live in a society where uniqueness is undervalued. Come with me, then, as I show you my tribute to some of my favourite obsolete foods…

Dr pepper Red fusion

Anyone who knows me on any level past ‘acquaintance’ knows I’m almost never seen without a Dr pepper in one hand. The other hand’s usually grasping a Liston knife, but that’s irrelevant at the moment. When Dr pepper announced their ‘Red fusion’ variant back in 2002, I found it to not only be a satisfying beverage, but actually a couple of degrees better than regular Dr pepper. The main factor, I think, was that it wasn’t as ‘heavy’ as your bog-standard colas. Plus, I loved that name — ‘Red fusion’. It always puts me in mind of Red Impulse, that bloke from ‘Gatchaman’. No idea what exactly he did, as I didn’t watch the show (‘Battle of the Planets’ just barely counts) but I love that name. Perhaps he filed an ill-advised lawsuit over the name Red fusion and somehow won, which might explain why the drink no longer exists.

Mr Green

Modern tea merchants SoBe came up with a soft drink infused with guarana, ginseng, and some other pseudo-exotic crap, called Mr Green. True to form, the label sported an extreme lizard astride a bike doing a lip trick off a giant human skull into a burning vagina. Ahh, marketing. Despite its 18 – 25 year old kerb squirrel demographic, it was a fine beverage. It was kind of a tarnished copper colour, which appeared darker in its bottle of dark green plastic, and it had kind of a spicy taste to it. Very unique, which is of course the precise reason why it didn’t last too long…

Cappio

Before Frappucinos walked the earth, there was a bottled iced cappucino drink — which was unheard of in the States way back in the heady days of the late Nineties — called Cappio. The adverts featured a lean beatnik lass on a scooter, animated in a rather Fiftiesy style; plus, the beverage was like 60% cream, 60% sugar, and 20% coffee, all poured into a slim and sexy bottle, so of course I was hooked.
Oddly enough, I don’t drink Frappucinos… I just never got round to it. To be honest, I’m more inclined to knock back a stout can of UCC Canned coffee. Lovely stuff. Granted, unlike Frappuccino, it’s not sold everywhere, but at least I know where I stand with UCC…

Pepsi free

I have fond memories of drinking this back in the early Eighties. Well, I have memories. But I do recall really enjoying Pepsi free, for some bizarre reason. The thing that’s especially ironic about this, though, is that I loathe regular Pepsi — I would rather drink fermented tramp’s piss than have a Pepsi*. Honestly, I can’t imagine buying it these days, as the ‘Free’ meant it was caffeine free. That’s like drinking non-alcoholic beer; what’s the bloody point?

Frosted Rice chex Juniors

Monti and I were addicted to these during their brief run in the mid-Nineties. Picture, if you will, squares of Rice chex, half the size of regular Chex, that were literally encrusted with sugary frosting. We’d eat them dry right out of the box, and we’d temporarily aquire the ability of seeing through Time itself. We witnessed the Lincoln assassination! It was pretty wild.
I’m inclined to believe that parents and guardians probably lobbied to get that cereal pulled off the shelves, after seeing so many of their children covering their walls one postage stamp at a time, or running up the length of a twelve-storey building, or listening to rave music, or simply vibrating and frothing at the mouth. It had a brief run, but a good run.

Mountain dew MDX

Yes, another extreme soda; I’m sure you’ve sussed that the ‘X’ stands for ‘extreme’. Despite that silliness, MDX was rather ace for two reasons:
1) it was in my favourite shade of green. To be honest, it looked radioactive, and
2) it was an energy drink that didn’t taste like dog’s milk. Apart from MDX, I’ve never been able to find an energy drink that didn’t make me wish I was dead two sips in.
My brief affair with MDX came to a rapid halt, as just after I began drinking it, I came down with a serious bout of acid reflux, and I blamed the drink’s strange and curious ingredients. By the time my illness subsided, I decided to give the soda one more go to see if it really was to blame, but by that time, it was no longer being sold. C’est la vie…

Mint 3 Musketeers

Might as well add them to the list, as I’m fairly certain they’ll be yanked unceremoniously off the market in six months’ time. Imagine, if you will, a 3 Musketeers bar scientifically crossbred with a York Peppermint Patty. Instead of one slab-of-nougat-coated-in-milk-chocolate, you get two half-sized bars in a slightly smaller wrapper, with each bar covered in dark chocolate and filled with mint… nougat? I’ve no idea what it is, but it’s truly dericious. I really should see about bulk prices, so I can stock up now before the Mint 3 Muskepocalypse inevitably occurs…

So there you have it! I think I missed a couple — I was racking my brains trying to think of this one brand of potato chip that I used to love, and came up trumps — but you get the idea.
It’s shameful, though. We live in a world where Mr Green is off the market, but you can find that atrocity known as the Mallo cup everywhere? It makes no sense

*N.B. an exaggeration. Please do not offer me a pint jar of tramp’s piss

Sdtrk: ‘Great destroyers’ by NON

Little sociological experiment: What you’re reading now was written Friday evening whilst at work. I wrote this to distract myself from the nigh-biblical amount of pain situated in the right side of my mouth. You see, *cue flashback dissolve* this past Wednesday, I had root canals done on two of my front teeth. The process itself, I have to say, was remarkably swift: at first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted both done at once, as I really didn’t relish the idea of being sat in the dentist’s chair for an interminable period of time, whilst they got to work with their rusty saws and blood-caked chisels, but after he painlessly finished one in under ten minutes, I relented, and he did the other just as quickly. Apparently, the nerves in both teeth were dead. Which is alright, really, as we weren’t all that close. So after scheduling to get the core fills for both teeth done next week, and despite the localised anaesthetic making me sound like Sean Connery, I jauntily walked out of there to attend to the rest of the day’s errands.
Two hours later, however, was a different story, as the blessing of the anaesthetic wore off, and I was feeling like someone had popped me in the mouth with a claw hammer. I ended my errand run early, drove home, and immediately tumbled headlong into bed, not waking up until my friend Tsukihime phoned me three hours later.

Now, here’s the funny (ha ha ow) bit: as I’d mentioned, during the drilling itself, I didn’t feel anything averse. In fact, I gave several enthusiastic thumbs-up whenever he asked me how I was. Then, while out and about a few hours later, my body suddenly realised that hey, someone had just been excavating in your feckin’ mouth, and the appropriate reaction was one of a heady and persistent ache. But! My pain level the day of the actual visit wasn’t nearly as bad as it was like two days later, which brings us to this eve. *flashback dissolve*

So! During the final leg of my wonderful amazing fantastical 5.30 – midnight Friday eve shift — yes, I’m aware it’s nonsensical and sucks cock, don’t remind me — that throbbing feeling above the teeth that had been worked on came back with a roaring vengeance, and I’d taken my last ibuprofen about four hours ago. I actually had to stand up and ask one of the managers if the office had a secret cache of IB I could possibly dip into, but alas, no. Hardly a surprise, cos they’re barely equipped with what they’re supposed to be stocked with half the time, at any rate. Luckily, a coworker had some 600mg prescription IB, which just managed to do the business. Lesson learned: Please pass the horse tranquilisers!

It’s been several days since my adventures in modern (pronounced ‘modren’) dentistry, and I have to say that my mouth still hurts. If I’m not careful when I eat or speak, I’ll nick the tip of one of those teeth with one of my lower ones, and everything goes red for a blinding moment, and every other word is preceded by an expletive for a minute or so. I mean, moreso than usual. For a couple of dead nerves, they certainly still hurt like blazing fuck. Knowing my luck, they’re probably undead. We weren’t all that close, y’know.

Originally, I think I had a point when I started writing this, but it’s long since fled; the pain undoubtedly drove it away.
Wow. I think this is the reason I don’t write too often about my personal experiences. Seven shades of uninteresting

Sdtrk: ‘Albion Festival report’ by The focus group

I have absolutely nothing polite to say about this. Nothing whatsoever.

Mobile texts harm written language?
Reuters | Wed Apr 25, 2007 9:28 AM ET

DUBLIN (Reuters) – The rising popularity of text messaging on mobile phones poses a threat to writing standards among Irish schoolchildren, an education commission says.

The frequency of errors in grammar and punctuation has become a serious concern, the State Examination Commission said in a report after reviewing last year’s exam performance by 15-year-olds.

“The emergence of the mobile phone and the rise of text messaging as a popular means of communication would appear to have impacted on standards of writing as evidenced in the responses of candidates,” the report said, according to Wednesday’s Irish Times.

“Text messaging, with its use of phonetic spelling and little or no punctuation, seems to pose a threat to traditional conventions in writing.”

The report laments that, in many cases, candidates seemed “unduly reliant on short sentences, simple tenses and a limited vocabulary.”

In 2003, Irish 15-year-olds were among the top 10 performers in an international league table of literacy standards compiled by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

Call me old-fashioned, or call me anal-retentive, but honestly, I think people in this day and age not having proper writing skills is embarrassing and shameful. Yes, I realise that language evolves through time for ‘better’ usage — arguably what comprises contemporary English is much less brain-destroying than say, Middle English — but these days I’m inclined to think that ‘better’ in the context of 21st Century society really means ‘lazier’.

My friend Wolfgang of vulne pro studios once argued that if the person who receives your message can parse what you’re essentially saying, despite any misspellings or grammar explosions, then that’s really the most important thing. Sure, I’ll grant him that, but I firmly believe that proper spelling should be encouraged. There are many people out there, myself included, who will almost entirely disregard an article, a blog entry, a post, or what have you if it’s typed ham-handedly. There may be an important message cleverly hidden within, but it’s as if the reader is being given a diamond ring cleverly hidden within a handful of shit. Frankly, if a person can’t be arsed to take the time to spell properly, why should anyone take the time to read it?
For a lot of people (and note, that’s ‘a lot’ — ‘alot’ isn’t a word), it’s a case of they’re typing so fast, that they don’t go over what they’ve written for errors before they submit it or hit the Send button; that’s how the Interbutt standards ‘zOMG’ and ‘teh’ began, for instance. There’s absolutely no sane reason why a person can’t give what they’ve said a quick check. And ‘that takes too long’ is hardly an excuse — if your spelling and grammar is up to snuff, it won’t take more than a couple of seconds, at any rate.

And as far as limited vocabulary, that rankles me just as much, if not more. Could you imagine if writers such as Wilde, or Burgess, or Machen, or Plath, didn’t have the benefit of an expansive vocabulary? Could you picture how incredibly dull their writing would be, or any writing, speech, or dialogue, for that matter? Language should be more than just a vehicle for basic communication; at its best, it should also paint pictures. Obviously, not everything that comes out of everyone’s mouth should sound like something by Edward Bulwer-Lytton (‘Yes, my good maiden; I would desire to place an order for a burger of ham, bedecked with intertwining spirals of tomato catsup and yellowed mustard, denuded of pickles, and accompanying that I wouldst like a singular order of French fries — crisp, golden-brown shards of deeply-fried potato — in the largest size a man can request. To quench my thirst which threatens even now to vanquish me, I will also require a chilled Coca’d-Cola, in a size that lay betwixt Diminutive and Titanic’) but a larger vocabulary is, at the very least, a sign that you’re trying to elevate yourself above the grunts and snorts that pass for common language.

In summation? Read more books, I suppose

Sdtrk: ‘Alice in Boogie Wonderland’ by Noise/Girl

Recently, I’ve discovered something about myself: unlike 90% of cellphone owners, I don’t really like being on my phone when out in public. Errm, correction: I don’t like being on my cellphone when out in public around people.

Every single one of us has come across some self-important gobshite on their cell, loudly speaking about nothing at all, at great length. It’s almost as bad as being at someplace such as the optometrists, or an auto repair place, where a television is constantly blaring crap that you can’t really get away from. There’s a solution for that, if you’re so inclined, but unfortunately, you can’t do the same thing to Loud Cellphone Fuckwit. And believe me, I’ve tried! But unfortunately, it seems you can’t bring a hammer with you everywhere you go, which is really a shame.

My thing is, I get self-conscious — well, moreso than usual — when engaged in telephonic conversation, and it’s due to two reasons: one, like pretty much everyone else, I really can’t perceive how loud I sound to the surrounding area, so even if I’m not intentionally being loud, in my mind, I’m bellowing like Brian Blessed; two, whether I’m genuinely being loud or speaking at a normal volume, there’s always gonna be someone eavesdropping nearby — it’s unavoidable. People don’t need to be listening to my feckin’ business. Although there have been a few times when Penda and I were enjoying our semi-monthly dinner, and being perfectly aware of our conversation being within another diner’s earshot, we’d deliberately say things to take the piss — usually centred round babies, and the proper way to prepare one for dinner. But that’s talking shite deliberately, as opposed to an actual conversation.

If I’m out and about, it’s not unusual at all for me to be on my phone — I should probably mention at this point that I always use my headset, so I have use of both hands, plus I don’t get facial schmutz on my screen that way — but usually I’ll end the call before I get out of my car. I suppose I’m simply not a typical cellphone user, as I like to keep my private conversations exactly that — private

Sdtrk: ‘As it is when it was’ by New order

On my way to work this morning, I had to make a stop at a service station — most people have coffee to get them going, whereas I’d much rather have a Dr pepper. I pulled in, left the warmth of my car for the 15ºF weather, and walked briskly inside. After paying for a 20oz bottle of said beverage, not five seconds after stepping back out, I heard ‘hey mon, you got any spare change on you?’ yelled in my direction. I glanced up, and spotted some individual standing at the bus stop gesturing at me lazily. As I was in a hurry to get going; plus human interaction in near-freezing conditions with some spurious person I didn’t know is fifty times worse than in any other situation, I shook my head and gave a cursory shrug in response, before I scrambled back into my car and locked the door.

As I was pulling off the premises, I had to peer left, in order to look for a break in the oncoming traffic, and the tosser was standing in my line of sight about ten feet away. He held his joint aloft — at least, I assumed it was a joint, by the way he was holding it — with a big smile, as if to say ‘hey mon, it’s all good,’ but all that really served to do was make me feel more alienated

Sdtrk: ‘It’s all forgotten now’ by The caretaker

Heh. Just read this charming, heartfelt missive from the generous and open-minded souls at YouTube:

from: YouTube Service
to: pulsedemon [at] gmail [dot] com
date: Nov 28, 2006 12:21 AM
subject: Video Rejected: Inappropriate

YouTube

After being flagged by members of the YouTube community and reviewed by YouTube staff, your video “A.I.Doll flexibility 005” has been rejected due to its inappropriate nature. This is the second video removal for your account—if you receive one more, your account will be permanently disabled and all of your previously uploaded videos will be taken down.

Please refer to our Terms of Use and the Community Guidelines for more information on what video material is not permitted on YouTube.

— The YouTube Team

Copyright © 2006 YouTube, Inc.

*lengthy seething pause*
A bloke named Lorsch commented the other day on one of my videos, and it was a breath of fresh air.

What kind of (probably american-english speaking) idiot marked this video as “inappropiate”? There´s absolutely nothing to be seen. There are thousands of vids of crushing bones, cruelty and war at you tube. But as it refers to a plastic vagina, that probably has anybody killed yet, you weird puritan americans get completely nutty. Post from a german, where tits and vaginas can be seen on televesion nearly everyday.

I responded with

Nice to see another sensible response. 🙂

Unfortunately, that’s how it is over here in the States. The few Americans left that aren’t scared into blind puritanism have to put up with the millions that are. Because of that, I’ve had a couple of videos marked as ‘inappropriate’. It’s ridiculous, and more than a little frustrating.

To which he responded with

Up to the late eighties or early nineties, the US were regarded as a really cool, open, free and liberally minded people.Time went by and it seems to an outsider (never visited your country)that the country that´s proclaiming freedom and liberty like no other, has invented it´s own ways to limitate itself.I appreciate your point of view and please,please never lose your ability to see the relations/dimensions of things.

Well said Lorsch, well said.
So more than likely, my videos probably won’t be up much longer, so you’d be advised to go view them now, before they ‘mysteriously’ disappear.
Anyone out there know of any similar videohosting sites? Preferably based in Europe?

EDIT (2.50 pm): Just found one that looks promising. Although further investigation is required, I seem to have the lock on a certain subject commodity — i.e, Synthetiks

Sdtrk: ‘A girlfriend is…’ by Vena cava

Unfortunately, despite the fact that we’ve got a month until Festivus, it’s pretty much been cancelled this year, on account of Michael Richards acting like a complete fucking twat. Now, I’ve seen the video of him ranting onstage, and followed that up with his apology on Letterman, and I’m still trying to assess it all.
Stand-up comedians get heckled all of the time; it’s part and parcel of the trade. Richards has been in that business for a long time, and I’m certain that he knows there’s a professional way to handle hecklers, and then there’s the other way, which is to let them get to you. You could say ‘yeah, he lost his rag, but people who get angry say a lot of things they don’t necessarily mean in the heat of the moment,’ and I would agree. But he didn’t stop with a sentence — he just went on and on with it, to a disturbing degree. To me, that indicates that he wasn’t just going for the shock value, this was a nerve that obviously got touched, and he was off shouting things that might well have been inside him for quite a while.
Me? I hate plenty of people. Tons. Do I hate them because of their skin colour or race? No, I despise them because of how they behave. And ultimately, that’s how Richards should’ve conducted it. If they were making a ruckus, well hey — that, as they say, is showbiz. But the shit that he’d said isn’t stuff that you just say off the cuff. He shouldn’t have said it. He honestly shouldn’t have been thinking it, but you can’t control how people think. Unfortunately.

A lot of people remarked that after this, his career has been effectively shot in the face, but unfortunately, Mel Gibson is still working; more than likely, with his best pals, the Jews.* However, Gibson probably has more money than Richards — as he told his arresting officer, he owns Malibu — so there’s that to consider.

Then there was his apology on Letterman. Before I’d seen it, I was quite sceptical, as I just saw it as him really trying to cover his ass after the fact. In day-to-day affairs, I’m much more of a cynical individual, and personally, I think most people are lying much more often than they tell the truth. But watching the apology segment from start to finish, he does appear somewhat sincere — he’s realised he’s made a grand mistake, and seems penitent about it. He was visibly getting frustrated at points, mainly cos Letterman’s audience was at points laughing… I don’t know if they thought he was making some misplaced attempt at humour, or if they were laughing cos they simply didn’t know how to react.
I guess if Richards is genuinely honest about wanting to make amends, we’ll see how he goes about it in the next couple of weeks. I did notice one thing, though; his apology was a general one to everyone present that eve, and to ‘Afro-Americans’ *coughshockinglyoutdatedcough* everywhere, but he didn’t really specifically say he was sorry to the two hecklers.

It’s occurred to me that I’ve talked more about mainstream media with this single post, than I ever have in the entirety of ‘Shouting etc etc’, which means that this was almost a waste of a post. But I’ve loved ‘Seinfeld’ for years, and it could be argued that the only reason that I’m writing this is that it’s due to a performer that I enjoyed, making horrible remarks that affect me on an obvious level.

So! Onto other news: I dreamt last night that I had taken a nap for an hour, cos I had to go to class later that eve, in order to turn in my final paper. But when I awakened (in the dream; yes, it’s rather meta), it was still sunny out, but I knew that I had overslept by several hours. I’d attempted to check what time it was, but my alarm clock and my watch both read 7.77. Well, my watch read 7.77, and the clock was 7.73. Understandably, I was panicking cos I had no idea what the hell time it really was…
As an aside, you notice there’s no speaking clock anymore? I don’t know when they finally got rid of it, but you can no longer dial (area code) 555.1212, and hear the Robot Lady announce, with unerring precision, what time it was. Or is. If they fired her, at the very least, I hope she has a decent job now.

‘Even a stopped clock is right twice every day. After some years, it can boast of a long series of successes’
— Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

And speaking of automata and mainsprings, new YouTube videos are up, cos it’s that time again (pun not intended). Happy 23rd, and Happy Cholera Blankets Day! Go listen to the new Ricky Gervais podcast!

*Don’t get me wrong; in Mad Max, he was a badass, but then he started crapping on about that stupid religious cult he’s in, and therefore lost all respect from me, as well as anyone else with a functioning brain in their head