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Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
RAZORLIGHT
(pictured: Johnny Razorlight
overwhelming himself)
Do you remember Razorlight, do you? They
were great, weren't they? Do you remember the singer? Johnny
Razorlight I think he was called. Do you remember him? And the songs.
Do you remember all the songs they had? They had about six or seven
of them and they'd do them on telly. Do you remember the one about
America? It was kind of ambiguous. It had
ambiguity, which is a thing that makes it hard to tell what it means
but you know it means something because Johnny Razorlight looks like
he really means it. You weren't sure if he loved America or hated
America or had even ever been to America but, y'know, America.
Do you remember how Johnny Razorlight
took his shirt off? That was great when he
took his shirt off. It meant he was ready to get down to business,
like when you're putting up a shed in the garden or something and you take off your shirt. Putting up a shed in a sexy way. You'd
be watching Razorlight and they'd be doing songs and you'd be
thinking this is our generation's Dylan or Clash and the kids would
raise their hands and girls would be crying and there'd be songs. Do
you remember waving the college scarves around and caring about
things? Caring yeah, that was the feeling. That or something like it.
It was moving anyway. Do you remember being moved? You'd get the
tickets and all pile into the stadium and get the shit moved out of
you.
Whatever happened to Razorlight though?
They represented a whole era, didn't they? The hippies had Jimi
Hendrix and acid, but we had Johnny Razorlight and apps. It was the
beginning of something. I'm not sure what it was the beginning of, but
it was the beginning of something, wasn't it? Something kind of real.
It felt real. It felt like something realish. Razorlight represented
our era. Them and Keane and other bands with songs. They all had
songs and we listened to them and they were songs. They were our
songs. They were certainly songs anyway. I'm certain of that. They'd
always turn up in ads for Vodafone, capturing the Zeitgeist.
I wonder what happened to Razorlight. They weren't around all that
long, were they? The light that burns twice as bright burns half as
long type of thing. I wonder will they ever reform. Maybe they never
split up or did they die? Maybe they are dead like Pete Doherty from
Block Party. Who knows? But we have the memories, right? I'll never
forget the songs and them doing them and all that. It was great.
Great days! I just want to say thanks to Snow Patrol, I mean Klaxons,
I mean Razorlight for the memories.
...or am I thinking about The Killers?
Labels:
apps,
block party,
keane,
klaxons,
pete doherty,
razorlight,
snow patrol,
the killers,
vodafone
Thursday, February 21, 2013
UNDER GOD'S CAR
The invisible confines of your
perceived freedom: The body you inhabit. The landmass that restricts
your movement unless you have the money and authorisation
required for foreign travel. The languages you speak and your
inability to speak. Your need for air and nourishment. Your fear of
opprobrium. The ideas that come out of the telly, the awful fuckin
telly. The ideas that come out of the mouths of your friends. What
your parents told you. What your parents failed to tell you. What
your teachers taught you. What your teachers failed to teach you. The
money you save. The bills you pay. Your responsibilities and your
irresponsibility. Those new shoes you have your eye on. The people
you have your eye on. The people who have their eye on you, or keep
an eye out for you, or the people who might scratch your eyes out.
Your eyes. Books and magazines and papers and the words in those
books and magazines and papers. Street signage. Streets. Road signs.
Roads. Gardens. Buildings. Rooms. Houses. Cars. Car alarms and house
alarms. People who are easily alarmed. The alarm on your clock and
the clock itself. Especially the clock - the big hand, the little
hand, all the numbers they point to and what they mean. The places
you should be. The way you get to those places. The time it takes you
to get there. The guilt you feel when you don't go. The guilt you
feel when you don't go anywhere. The shame of loitering. Your dirty
secret life of taking it easy. Your need to contribute. Your unease
at accepting contributions. Your tolerance of frequent acts of
officially sanctioned theft. The benefits this theft brings you. The
things that are stolen from you. The myth of the meritocracy. Your
utter mediocrity. Your hypocrisy and your inability to see that you
are a hypocrite. The threat of heavy fines or
custodial sentences. Guns – even if you never see them, you know
that they are there.
But the waft of ineffable liberation is
occasionally detectable, in the quieter moments. Fully asleep or half
awake. Day dreaming under a dead tree - gazing at stratocumuli drifting above a crooked creaking lattice – floating beyond
the bars of a cage. Stuck here but it's not so bad. It's a bit of a
laugh. The holidays are coming up. You might win some money. You
might 'get lucky'. You could go to the movies. Maybe there's
something on the telly, the awful fuckin telly. Did you see the thing
that was on last week? It was mad. The Devil put a bomb under God's
car.
Labels:
alan watts,
assumptions,
coercion,
consumption,
indoctrination
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
@SADFCE :'(
It's not about the conversation anymore
but the flow. WINKY EMOTICON. In contemporary media what you say is
one thing and that's fine but it's the current it gets caught up in
that counts. PLEASE SUBSCRIBE! Get a quick 'like' or 'unlike' and
don't waste time continuing to get things wrong. TLDR! Communication
isn't about communicating anymore. It's about dynamism. SHARE THIS ON
FACEBOOK OR LINKEDIN! It's not about contributing ideas but about
contributing content. SMILEY FACE. Analysis is condensed into easy to
digest flow portions that r so easily digestible
that they r no longer analysis. #IMBECILES It no longer mattrs what
you say. No evr listnd nywy. sO Just say stuff n join the cnvrsation.
LOL! The idea that communication is about ideas is an outdatd idea.
Communication is about promotion. FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER! It's not what
is being said, it's who is saying it. SUBSCRIBE! Don't think, just
click. LINK THIS! Interface your face and be a face interfacer!
53638468 FOLLOWRRS! Hey [0] frac *= [0] other frac. Face me linkbook!
STEPHEN FRY! The valu in wht u say is in the links. The value in wgat
yiu say is in the 'likes'. The currency of d web is the links. LINK
LIKE LINK! Diversity of options in the flow. Flow the interface
REDDIT and link to the faced @ like me on Twitter #RELATING Replace
quality with stuff efficiently. Get a profile, get a life
@INNOVATION#FKD Navigate the click flow and 'like' clear goal your
synergy and void your headspace online bite size PWND. The valu ov
tings a dgidm? NOW TRENDING! Jst dwnld d app and FTW! Facelink ur
fcbk lnk lk! #GET KONY src= gt fllwrs + lk fcbk10100101010bt twttr.
The new sensibility is the death o sense death to sense uplod new
sense FACEBOOK MY LINKEDIN! Be prt of tHe clOud and DSTRY conviction
+ depth#join d noiz,come let us build ourselves a city, GOOGLE + 1
with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name
for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the
whole earth@SoLoMo LMFAO CMFEO CMFEO CrynMFEO CrynMyFEO CrynMyFknEO
CrynMyFknEyesO CrynMyFknEyesOut / @SADFCE :'(
Labels:
communication,
emoticons,
facebook,
google +,
internet,
linkedin,
self-promotion,
tower of babel,
Twitter
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
A GREAT WHITE SHARK ON THE BLACKBOARD
A pilot fish swims at the mouth of a
great white shark so it can feed off the scraps that fall from the
shark's jagged teeth. What is a pilot fish without a great white
shark? I'll tell you what a pilot fish without a great white shark is
- a pilot fish without a great white shark is a very hungry fish. A
starving fish.
Now, imagine the shark was a bit of a
silly billy and got a bit greedy and ate up all there was to eat in
the sea and there was nothing left. What would happen then? Well, for
a while the shark and the pilot fish would feel very fat and happy
but eventually the shark would become hungry again and so would the
pilot fish. There is nothing to eat! What are the shark and pilot
fish to do? Well, it's quite simple. Some of the pilot fish should
offer themselves and swim into the great white's mouth while the
others remain to eat whatever remnants fall from the great white's
gob. Selecting which pilot fish get eaten would be up to the pilot
fish but I'd imagine the weaker ones, the ones down the back,
furthest from the shark's mouth, would be incentivised
to offer themselves first. Persuasive statements like: 'it's time to don the pilot
fish jersey' and 'it's your aquatic duty' would be thrown at the
weaker pilot fish and, despite emitting little grumbles and leaving a
few snarky posts on pilotfish.ie, into the shark's mouth these fish
would go. Better to be dinner than have no dinner, right?
Pilot fish are greedy but the great
white shark is greedier. The great white shark is the greediest of
the greedy and, ultimately, pilot fish respect him for this. Pilot
fish wouldn't have to resort to self-sacrifice in times of scarcity
if they were as greedy as the great white and not just as greedy as
each other. Greed is strength.
Greed is strength and that is what we
should teach kids in school. Draw a great white shark on the
blackboard and tell the children the truth. Even if it isn't really
the truth we may as well say it is because we act like it is. Because
we act like There Is No Alternative.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
ICTU SIPTU FUKU
(pictured – Is that Victor Jara?)
NO WAY! WE WON'T PAY! (well actually we
will, all the same, anyway).
Brother Number One Begg sat there on the
committee of the Central Bank, presiding over the auditing of Anglo
and the lads.
We won't mention that because we don't even know - we
just got out on the streets and Mundy did a song. We had a great time
and all sang along.
We let off steam and went home again and there'll
be no national strike or anything like that because, fundamentally
and absolutely, we're all full of crap.
We don't really care about
anything but our wage so if you don't go there we'll probably vote
yous in again –
F fuckin F or F fuckin G or L fuckin A fuckin B. The alternatives to those three are fuckin comedy.
F fuckin F or F fuckin G or L fuckin A fuckin B. The alternatives to those three are fuckin comedy.
So cut what you
like, just don't cut me!
With a hey diddle dong and a fiddle dee dee.
ICTU SIPTU FUKU - Hee Hee Hee!
With a hey diddle dong and a fiddle dee dee.
ICTU SIPTU FUKU - Hee Hee Hee!
Labels:
Dublin march against austerity,
Fianna Fail,
fine gael,
ictu,
labour,
mundy,
siptu,
unions
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
SOT
Soon there will be eleven numbers from
one to ten. A new number is being officially introduced later in the
year. The number is called sot and it comes between six and seven.
Sot will not just be a number. Like
other whole numbers, sot will also be an amount. Imagine you have six
things. Now imagine you have seven things. Now imagine you have an
amount of things that comes between six and seven. Fractions are not
included.
You look puzzled. There is no need to
be puzzled. This amount has always been there. You have probably
never seen this amount because your perception of external reality is
mediated by an education that is based on an outdated macro level
Newtonian interpretation. However, some of you might have seen this
amount whilst under the influence of a fever or hallucinogens
or stupefied by the drink. It is when you are in these states that
you are briefly liberated from your stifling, culturally imposed,
preconceptions. It is when feverish, hallucinating, or pissed out of
your mind, that you can truly see reality - much like very young
children or supposedly crazy people do.
You may be wondering why we need the
new number but be prepared, sot is just the first of many new
numbers. We are starting slow. Before the decade is out you can
expect to see unt, fleb, and juk added to the digits between one and
ten. We are going to need these new numbers to help us finally get a
grasp on what is really afoot in the Universe. A new conceptual model
is required so that our species can move closer to a true unification
with its surroundings. The old ways will soon collapse under the
sudden weight of new understanding. Don't feel too anxious. It's not
going to be anything scary. It won't be all doom and gloom on the
fleb o'clock news. You may feel overwhelmed at first but just take a
deep breath and count to sot. You'll be fine.
In related news, they are also making
zero the highest number so from now on we are counting to nothing.
There will no longer be a need for calculations of any sort as
ultimately it all adds up to fuck all. Counting forwards will be the
same as counting backwards and the only thing you'll really be able
to count on is that you can't count on much.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
a dIFficULt w0rK oF gEnIus
(pictured above: Joyce - pwnd)
Sir TristramHandShandy, boiler hors d'oeuvres d’amores we all adore the fiat doors and cow jumped over the shotbled moon, had patty cake patty snake baker's Van unarranged and arraigned by Comptroller General on this side the Craggy Island of Umpa Lumpa to water-Tight welterweight his penis war: nor Tom Sawyer’s docks by the streeeeeeam knock-knee untangled bangle bumblesaur to ralph Lauren Giorgio Armani barmy army EXPLOITED barmy army EXPLOITED barmy army while they went doublin their muPpet with mumps all the Crime: nor avoice from Radox portion mortion abortion potion loTion major picture motioN not yet, though Bambi namby pamby after, had a skidmark butter on Brennan's old Iggy Pop: not yet, though all’s pear in vanessa Paradis, were Keyser SoZe suthers wroth with doctor retold. Got a feck of pa’s schmaltz unt shawl appall or Shawn Michaels HBK brewed by fart light and video and put on Youtube viral spiral and gory end to the schniggle schnaggle noggle was to be seen dingdongdangsome and ain't I handSome on the aquaman and Green Arrow.
The Fall E. Smith (babaPapaBegorraghZigaZig-HaLMNOpelicanChambourcyHippototsChambourcyHippototsBhamcourcyTippohotsRhambouccyPiphosnotsChUmbongoUmbongoTheyDrinkItInTheCongo— fuk!) of a dunce Occupy wallstrait oldspice mice play diCe with spurret and lark Rise to Candleford and Poldark on Mopeds early in bed and later on lie die down and frown through all christian black and white Lyons tea minstrelsy Packie bonner. The great Mark E. Smithwicks fall of the overalls untillytally at such snort ortice the paranormalschutehirsute of Finnegan, arse boiled flan, that the buMptyBennyhillhead of humself bumptios plumptious an unglun DobboOn the SiXone beef wellington to the georgewhere did itall go wrongBest in quest of his boozymissworldcontestanttitties: and their upthejunction is at the bill deskface out in the lark in the park where cureheads haVe been laid low by skins to fust and fangle upon the green since dev-linsfirst loved very very iffyy stiffy and then came in a jiffy and SeaQuest was shite and Seaquest was shite and it was no wonder it was cancelled because seaQuesT was shite.
...see, I told yous, anyone can write that crap.
(I threw in a few pop cultural references so geek types can enjoy it too. They enjoy any old fuck-wittery as long as it refers to something that made an impact on their telly cage brains.)
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