Sdtrk: ‘J’achète des disques Américains’ by Stella

It’s recently just struck me that I need to buy, borrow, or rent a copy of the book ‘Watership down’.

In browsing the mecha board on one of my favourite Internet time-wasters and hard-drive-fillers, 4chan.org, someone had posted some more illustrations of mecha from the Gundam side story ‘Advance of Zeta‘, serialised in Dengeki Hobby magazine. It’s not (yet) officially canon in the Universal Century Gundam timeline, but ‘Advance of Zeta’ profiles various models of Mobile suits that the Titans were testing, I believe prior to the events that took place in ‘Zeta Gundam’. At this point, it’s not even a manga, let alone a television or OVA series; it’s simply a bunch of model kits designed by Hajime Katoki and Kenji Fujioka. Well, I think there’s some sort of story wrapped round the mecha maybe, much in the same way that they built the Gatling cannon for the A-10 Thunderbolt II first, before they even designed the plane. Derek, you wanna help me out with the details here?
At any rate, one of the interesting/fab things about the Mobile suits from ‘AoZ’ is that a lot of them have development names that are taken from ‘Watership down’. It’s rather ace; almost all of the logos for the Titans Test Team are stylised bunnies, as seen here.

two of the insignia used by the Titans Test Team

You’ve got the Hazel, the Bigwig, the Dandelion, the Kehaar, etc. The Hazel’s booster scramble pack is called the Hrududu, which is what the rabbits called motor vehicles.

So after the initial statements of ‘O, that’s feckin’ ace’ were made, it’s occurred to me that I’ve never really read ‘Watership down’, and I haven’t seen the 1978 film in years, as I’d found it to be creepy and moribund. All I remember is unsettling 70s animation showing rabbits dying horribly, and gnashing of teeth, and lots of blood everywhere. But in looking up info on Watership down on the Interbutt, in particular the Wiki article, I’d noticed something about that story that I didn’t remember at all: the rabbits had their own language, called Lapine. Again, refer to ‘O, that’s feckin’ ace’ statement above.
Despite my rigid adherence to the idea that English-speaking people should speak English properly, otherwise I throw them headfirst down a well, I love it when authors manage to alter or augment language, or devise a language all their own — this would be one of the reasons that I really dig Anthony Burgess. ‘A clockwork orange’ was the first book of his that I’d read, shortly after seeing the film, of course, and words like ‘ptitsa’ and ‘korova’ and ‘horrorshow’ and ‘malenky’ thrown in amongst English much in the same way we use ‘croissant’ and ‘rendezvous’ and ‘zeitgeist’ and ‘sushi’ nowadays fascinated the hell out of me. So discovering that the rabbits of Watership down spoke a vaguely Welsh-sounding language definitely piqued an interest in wanting to read the novel.

Now I want to know what the hell those rabbits were saying, and eventually, I’d like to learn Lapine. I may not have a whole lot of opportunites to use it, but nevertheless..
Knowledge is Power, The More You Know, etc etc

Sdtrk: ‘Et moi, et toi, et soie’ by Cléo

Heh. I’m thinking someone just managed to squeak by on their psychological tests.

Police: Officer Zaps Partner After Soda Dispute

POSTED: 7:19 am EST December 8, 2005

HAMTRAMCK, Mich. — Authorities said a police officer in Michigan used a Taser stun gun on his partner during an argument about stopping for a soft drink.

The suspect was fired after the Nov. 3 incident and is charged with assault.

Ronald Dupuis, 32, could get up to 93 days in jail if convicted.

Authorities said Dupuis asked partner Prema Graham to stop at a store for a soft drink, but she refused and instead kept driving back to headquarters.

Authorities said the partners struggled over the steering wheel, and Dupuis hit Graham’s leg with his department-issued Taser gun. She wasn’t seriously hurt.

Apart from the fact that she was tasered in the leg, of course.
At least his badge was revoked. And why only 93 days? Might as well round it off and make it a year, just to make sure. This is the sort of thing that further solidifies the idea that I’ve always held, that you really have to be a certain type of psychotic to become a police officer these days

Sdtrk: ‘Your daddy’s car’ by The Divine comedy

As stated before, I don’t really plan on ever writing very much about my job on ‘Shouting etc etc’, cos it’s a hideous and dreadful position; however, yesterday’s workday stood out a bit, mainly due to its going-out-of-its-way-to-be-noticeable stupidity.

I work the first shift at a telemarketing fundraising place, which means I go in Monday – Friday, from 10am to 2pm. (Save your envy, I’m only getting paid $8 per hour.) On my shift, there are roughly 40 employees present, all doing the same bollocks I’m doing; calling churls in a couple of states, and requesting donations. Ever since Thanksgiving, though, the donations are down to a trickle, as people are obviously concentrating on buying gifts, giving to other charitable organisations and whatnot.

So over the course of the day, the two supervisors are walking up and down the aisles, loudly exhorting people to ‘speak up’ and ‘get strapped in’ and ‘knuckle down’ and other would-be motivational bullshit, but as anyone with a brain knows, all the loud talking in the world really won’t make a lick of difference, as it’s ultimately down to the person on the other end of the phone to decide whether or not they fire off a cheque or money order. Now, round the third hour of our day, our supervisor George — the fat surly one with a complete lack of a personality — goes up to the cubicles of several employees and speaks with them semi-privately. Shortly after, those employees collectively punch out and leave. It turned out that those particular employees hadn’t had a sale in a little over three hours, so they were sent home. The Fat Angel of Death merely passed by my doorway, as I had just gotten my first sale of the day fifteen minutes before then.

Now, maybe it’s just me, but does that not seem a little.. fucking stupid? Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep more employees in their seats in the hopes that they might get a donation, as opposed to having less people on the phones, and decreasing your chances? It’s the exact opposite of buying a mess of lottery tickets. That whole event struck me as being contra-productive at best, and petulant & childish at worst. Such a lovely work environment, I’m tellin’ yer.

I’d also just like to add that today, I wore my black cardigan with the HAL 9000 patch on it, and not one, but two coworkers, on two separate occasions, asked me what that patch was about. *grits teeth* Of course, in my mind, I’m screaming ‘have you never fucking seen “2001”??’ but then, I work in a place where more than a couple of people are into hip-hop. And when I say ‘more than a couple’, I mean ‘ninety-nine per cent’. Trying to explain something ‘artsy’ like ‘2001’ to these people is like.. well, I don’t want to say anything along the lines of ‘pearls before swine’, but you can’t say it doesn’t fit

Sdtrk: ‘Surfboard’ by Antonio Carlos Jobim

This Saturday past, before the lads and I took part in our usual parade of Britcoms/kaiju films/yakuza serials/horrible music video viewing, Derek and I headed out to Japan book center over in Livonia. Japan book center, or JBC as we know it, has been a shop that I and my anime-lovin’ friends have repeatedly patronised for roughly 17 years. A nondescript store in the back corner of a strip mall, it was our source for anime magazines such as Animage, Shonen Jump, Terebi magazine, and Animedia. It was also a treasure trove of Japanese films and programmes recorded via satellite. They had all types of genres there, but we usually gravitated towards the anime. And back before Derek and I started hanging out in extant, my best friend Sean and I would motor the 15 miles out there every single month in all sorts of weather, in order to obtain the latest issue of Newtype — keep in mind that not only was this years before the domestic anime explosion, but Newtype didn’t even have an English language version back then.

The shop was run by a middle-aged Japanese lady who knew rudimentary English, and whenever she wasn’t behind the counter or restocking the shelves, she was usually seen with her pair of small white dogs, who functioned like overactive, furry proximity alarms. You’d open JBC’s door, and thirty feet away, those dogs would begin incessantly leaping and yipping behind the counter. The other owner was a man we knew as Jii-san (Grandad), a kindly gentleman who appeared to be somewhat late-middle-aged. As I’d stated before, since Derek, Sean and I et al were shopping there regularly before people in the States knew what anime was, we kinda stood out, and he always recognised us. He knew what we were pretty much after, and always let us know when the latest shipments of whatever magazine would be arriving, or when such-and-such videotape of whatever film or Tv series would be ready. All in all, a nice bloke.

Derek and his roommate Dave both had yearly subscriptions to various magazines at JBC, which was one of the great features that Jii-san offered. Go up there, fill out a form, make a down payment, and Jii-san would set aside a copy of whatever magazine every month in a special pile just for you. Back in October, Derek was telling me that he was at the shop, paying for one of his subscriptions, and the clerks more or less told him to not worry about it and to keep his money, which struck him as not only strange, but somewhat foreboding. Now, over the course of the past year or two, Jii-san and.. the lady.. were up at JBC less and less, and a new couple of clerks were staffing — a bloke and a lass in their twenties, who both looked as if they belonged on the set of ‘Kamen rider 555‘ — and we all didn’t give it much thought, apart from ‘Jii-san is getting older, and these are probably going to be his sucessors at the shop’. Red flags definitely went up, however, as Derek reported that he’d gone back there after work a couple of weeks later, and the store was closed at 5pm on a weekday.
‘Jii-san’s dead, he’s probably dead’, Derek said, in the way that a person says something whilst simultaneously not wanting to believe that it may possibly be true.
‘SHUT UP SHUT UP’, was my well-thought-out response.