Not at all good

typed for your pleasure on 19 October 2004, at 4.54 am

So yeah, I’m reading my copy ov ‘Tainted life’ by Marc Almond now.

Singer Marc Almond badly hurt in motorcycle crash
MARC Almond, the former leader singer of the 1980s pop band Soft Cell, was last night fighting for his life after a motorcycle crash.

Almond, whose band scored a No 1 hit in 1981 with Tainted Love, suffered serious injuries in the accident in central London.

The 48-year-old was riding pillion when the Suzuki bike was in collision with a Vauxhall car, a spokesman for City of London Police said yesterday. He is believed to have injured his head after being thrown on to the road in the crash on Sunday afternoon.

Both Almond and the rider, who also suffered severe injuries, are being treated at The Royal London Hospital but Almond’s condition, which was initially described as “critical”, had improved by last night, according to medical staff.

Needless to say, he’d better fucking pull thru

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18 May 1980 on May 18th, 2008

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O, deer

typed for your pleasure on 12 October 2004, at 2.56 am

Far be it from me to do the Penda’s Diner thing, where I post a news article and fire off a couple ov one-liners about it, but this story has to be seen to be believed..


You can fit a single deer in the Range Rover’s spacious
front cargo hold

Deer’s 25-mile bumper road trip

A deer survived a 25-mile ride in the bumper of a car after it was hit by a motorist travelling to work. The muntjac deer remained unnoticed by the driver who thought he had hit a stone and continued on his way.

Only when he reached Sainsbury’s distribution centre in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire, did his colleagues point out the animal was stuck in his Rover.

Vets examined the deer but found no injuries apart from cuts and bruises and released it back into the wild.

‘Superficial cuts’

Fire and RSPCA officers were called to the car park to free the deer before it was taken to the Royal Veterinary College (RVC) in Potters Bar.

Virginia Fisher, from the RVC, said: “She did not need emergency care, she was very, very lucky, I don’t know how she managed to survive.

“One horn was bleeding as a result of a graze and she had superficial cuts and bruises, that’s all.”

A spokeswoman for Hertfordshire Fire and Rescue Service said the driver of the Rover did not want to be interviewed, but is thought to have hit the deer in Amersham, Buckinghamshire, last Wednesday morning.

“He thought he’d driven over a stone and didn’t think anything of it, it was only when he got to work some colleagues pointed it out,” she said.

The RSPCA told BBC News Online a very similar accident involving a muntjac deer and a Rover car happened in Essex two years ago.

The deer also survived in that case as well.

Kevin Jones, communications manager at MG Rover, said: “We work hard to protect the driver and spend time on pedestrian safety. We are delighted that we can help save deer as well.”

What the hell kind ov mental patient are you where you strike an object as large as a baby deer, and merely think to yourself, ‘O, that was probably just a rock’?? Driving along, listening to his Cd ov ‘The Best of the Moody Blues’ BA-WHUMP ‘A bit too much gravel on the tarmac this morning, eh? It’s a good job I’m driving a Range Rover™’. Jesus, some people.

On the other hand, that deer’s gonna be telling that story to her grandbucks and granddoes for years

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Stuff from Canada, music from Omaha

typed for your pleasure on 11 October 2004, at 3.31 am

Saturday was rather Action-Packed! Well, at least for me, anyway. Captain Jeff of the Jeff Brigade, The Mike & I were to make a tactical strike on Devonshire Mall in Windsor, in order to obtain more Stuff, cos, well, our lives are ruled by it. Jeff was on the hunt for a DVD copy ov eXistenZ, as well as the latest Dears Cd; Mike wanted to buy a copy ov Vidocq, and I was looking for any affordable DVDs on my List ov Must-Buys, as well as my usual haul ov strange Canadian potato chips, my favourites being Miss Vickies’ Sea salt & Malt vinegar, and Ruffles All-dressed. What do you want, I’m a potato chip conneiseur. As it turned out, Mike couldn’t make it cos he was up all night rearranging his room, so Jeff & I departed sans one ov our raiding party.

Jeff duly obtained his swag, and I went a little nuts with my acquisition:
+ Natural born killers: the Director’s Cut DVD
+ ABBA: The winner takes it all DVD
+ Bill & Ted’s Bogus journey DVD
+ a double DVD case, to replace one I have where the centre sprickets self-destructed
+ a copy ov Marc Almond’s autobiography, on clearance for $1 CD
+ three bags ov Miss Vickies’ Sea salt chips
+ one bag ov Miss Vickies’ Sea salt & Malt vinegar chips
+ two bags ov Ruffles All dressed
A bit much? Perhaps. But keep in mind the US dollar to Canadian dollar exchange rate is still five kinds ov ace, so I only really spent about $50 USD. Plus, what’s the point ov shopping in another country if you don’t really buy anything? We dinna find Vidocq, so Mike’s just gonna have to order it online like I did, the poor bastard..

Later that eve, I got round to Mike’s, to punch him in the ballbag for staying up so late, and to wait for Tim & his pal Jason to materialise, in order to go see the faint perform at the Majestic theatre. My reaction to hearing that they were coming to town was initially lukewarm — I think they’re kinda cool, but not enough to actually buy any ov their Cds, plus I hadn’t heard a single track off their latest release, ‘Wet from birth’ — but when Tim & I last met up a month or so ago, he mentioned that there’d be free tickets involved, so that swayed my decision.. As it turned out, there were only enough tickets for three people. Mike was magnanimous enough to let me have the third ticket, as ‘you know more about the band than I do’, he said. We were fairly certain there’d be tickets available at the door, anyway..

We drove downtown to the locale, and were pretty fucking surprised to see that the line to get in was a block long about an hour before the doors opened at 9pm. None ov us had thought the faint was that popular.. Since the tour wasn’t rolling thru Ohio, I reasoned that there were travelers from Ohio present as well.
Let me take a moment to bask in the images ov the throngs ov cute goth & electroclash girls that were there. Ahhh. Right, I’m done. 🙂
So we ambled to what we thought was the end ov the line, but it turned out that instead ov wrapping around the block, it continued across the street about twenty people in length. Yeah, we were in for a wait, alright.. But the fun really kicked in when they opened the doors, and one ov the security blokes told everyone with tickets to go on in, which ov course left Mikey outside. Tim, Jason & I waited inside near the doors for about ten minutes, when we noticed Mike motioning for us to come over. Apparently the box office sold the last ticket to the bloke right in front ov Mike. OH NOES!!1! Jason had given Mike a $20 to slip the door girl, as ‘she looked like she could be bribed’, but just as Mike took the $20, the guy who was behind him in line a couple ov paces back told him, ‘Dude, they’ve got more tickets now! I just got one! Go get in line!’ And sure as there’s shit in the cat, Mike managed to buy one. How were more ov them suddenly available? We don’t know. Perhaps it was a Sign from God. *snickering*

The first opening act, Beep beep, went on about 10pm. They’re labelmates ov the faint, and christ in shitty knickers, they sucked. Picture a blend ov the bad parts ov Gang of Four (who I never liked to begin with) and Buzzcocks, all topped off with a vocalist that was actually shrieking the lyrics instead ov screaming. Shrieking only works if you’re in a Noize band, or if you’re Diamanda Galas. Plus the guitarist kept rocking violently from side to side with a glazed stare, his mouth wide open in a frozen smile. He was truly the Best Mannequin on Drugs guitarist in a spaz-rock band that I’d ever encountered. In short, if you have the opportunity to see Beep beep live, throw things at them. Heavy things. Aim for their heads.

An hour later, after an extended session ov the soundcheck guy incessantly testing every microphone on stage by bellowing ‘Heyyy-UP’ into them, TV on the radio went on. They weren’t altogether bad. They were like Living colour with more ov a shoegazer-style guitar attack, except for that one song they did that sounded rather like New order. The four ov us, as well as the rest ov the crowd, were summarily impressed. In fact, most ov the crowd seemed to already know about TV on the radio, as a number ov people were singing along with some ov the songs. Any group that has both ov their guitarists as well as their bassist continually playing five inches from their amps for Better Feedback Power gets a thumbs-up from me..

Round midnight, the faint finally took the stage. Put simply, even if you’re lukewarm like I am about their music, everyone should see them live. The new album is less new wave-y than Danse macabre, but they still definitely have a sleazy and illicit vibe to them. The faint is a band that makes electronic dance music. They will make you dance, plain and simple, and you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was interesting to note that the band spent a lot ov time dancing themselves, especially Jake, who kept strutting away from his keyboard. Also, I was actually in a mosh pit for the first time in about a decade, and I had a hell ov a time! It was all because ov THE FAINT. (Ov course it could be argued that it wasn’t a real mosh pit. I mean, we’re talking the faint here, not Ministry.) A fine show, a fine show. It’s almost enough to make me start wearing eyeliner again..

A summation: Saturday was pretty fab! Although standing for an hour in line, then standing for another five hours in Converse All-stars, isn’t a good idea

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the Weekly Recommendation 03: Neckties

typed for your pleasure on 8 October 2004, at 3.36 am

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

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None dare call it 'rambling' on June 27th, 2007


Why can’t I live in an airport?

typed for your pleasure on 5 October 2004, at 12.11 am

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. 🙂

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