The Personification of Pretense

2006-08-12T01:03:00.000+01:00

Muchos Apologias señors y señoritas,

I've been away a lot lately so I got a bit lazy with updating. I hope those who read it before (both of you) got RSS feeds so you know I'm updating now. If you haven't, I will contact you through telepathic meditation.

2006-06-28T14:50:00.000+01:00

More Football drivel.

One would think that the most foul-tempered, red-and-yellow-card ridden game of world cup history might be between teams with 'a bit of history'. Perhaps France vs. Germany, or Poland vs. Germany, or Holland vs. Germany, or England vs. oh never mind. But no, it was between Portugal and Holland; two countries with no shared border or historical enmity barring colony and slave disputes. So it really begs the question 'pourquoi?'. There are certainly teams with strong traditions of cheating and other histrionics i.e Italy and Argentina, but there was none of that with Holland and Portugal. The fact is the players were by and large a bit twatty and it didn't help that 'Phil' Scolari (the Portugal manager) and the ref were even more twatty. I wouldn't have deemed this comment-worthy were it not for the fact that it shows how little history really counts in the World Cup. Germany and Poland played each other with great professionalism by the way.

So England play the twattier team on Saturday meaning we will probably win. However, I doubt we will make the most of our chances and lose the ball a bit, meaning everyone will be moaning as England acheive their best World Cup result in 16 years. Unfortunately it is looking increasingly unlikely we will go all the way, but at least Anglo-German relations are reaching levels of goodwill unknown for a hundred years. So its not all meaningless.

2006-06-15T23:16:00.000+01:00

England 2 Trinidad 0 (Tobago also nil)

I imagine that supporting a team that has a chance of winning the world cup is akin to following a Millenarian religion. A Millenarian religion is one that believes in the coming of the end time, where the devotees will be delivered to paradise and the non-devotees will be devoured in hell. As a devotee, you have faith that your lot is the one to be with come the end, but you have doubts from time to time. You might watch the devotee's community get rocked by controversy. You may also watch as a rival group come in and take followers off you. It could even happen that one of the best priests gets injured while the archlord is bombarded with press intrusion. Then, in one of the biggest ceremonies, your favourite priest, who is reliable to score a miracle now and then, is replaced before he has the chance to atone for his four month absence, perhaps due to burning his hand with a lightning bolt.

So you feel shocked and elated when numerous chances to pull off a miracle, in a contest of 'who's the daddy millenarian movement?' while the other lot are a bunch of lucky chancers, are squandered. Only right at the end, two really great magical displays appear to put you through to the next round. Well I tell thee, no goat or virgin is spared in the ensuing celebrations. However, you feel a bit exasperated by the priests at the back lumping the magic potion out of your possession into theirs.

Next week, why we all need to chant mantras in pentagrams for the Czech Republic and Italy. Roll on our dark messiah!

2006-06-11T18:09:00.000+01:00

Why I don't like Bob Marley. (contains strong language)

"WHAT?! YOU DON'T LIKE BOB MARLEY?" you may wonder. But I have semi valid reasons for why his cloying bullshit is anathema to my rationale of good music. Now I have a DVD of The Wailers performing on The Old Grey Whistle Test and it is pure gold. Peter Tosh is especially cool-looking as they perform 'Stir it Up'. I also have a fondness for 'Trench-Town Rock' and 'Natural Mystic'. But YOU NEVER HEAR THOSE FINE RECORDS. Marley was not a great lyricist and clearly not an intellectual with a keen eye on world affairs. These facts are evident in the over-exposed garbage that comprises the 'Legend' compilation. For example, take 'One Love' (oh please take it from my consciousness. I wish it didn't exist) and its lyrics 'One love/one heart/ lets get together and feel alright'. The sheer banality of it equates with the back-catalogue of the Backstreet Boys. Oh sure, lets all have one love and one heart. Ooh! I know! Lets get together and feel alright! Simple as. Yet the mental image this conjures is of campfires and smelly dreadlocked girls called 'Camara' and 'Chloe' singing along in a revolting soprano to a bearded twat with a guitar. That is why I hate Marley. Did you ever see that scene in 'The Beach' where someone gets buried and they all sing 'Redemption Song'? That is why I hate Marley. Did you ever see a poster of Bob Marley with his fist raised and a pained expression of trouble on his face? Possibly with a rainbow behind him? That is why I hate Marley. I hate him as the grand idol of potheads. I hate him as the man people mistake for a great man. I hate the fact that his life work means barely anything but is venerated as a message to the world.

Its not Bob's fault. It is the fault of the people who made him a false god. A false bringer of hope and peace. And the bringer of the minging dreadlock to the white twat-head student.

N.B Camara and Chloe are not real people.

2006-06-11T15:44:00.000+01:00

I just remembered that thing I said about Tibetan humour.

There was a time in my life where I grew obsessed with jokes. Normal everyday jokes. I would often analyse why a given joke was funny and why English people would laugh whereas Americans would just look confused. At the time, I was living in a Buddhist Centre where there also lived two Tibetans. While working in the shop, I asked one if he could tell me a Tibetan joke. He told me two and I will try to relate them as accurately as possible here.

A man goes outside because he needs the toilet. He goes behind a thorn bush and gets a lot of thorns stuck in his backside. When he goes back inside his house, he complains and gets told off for going outside to go to the toilet.

A monk goes to a house to do Puja (i.e. perform a Buddhist ceremony of offering) with some other monks. While he is sitting doing his prayers, he smells some sausages boiling in the kitchen. So he goes into the kitchen when no-one is looking and takes out a long sausage. It is too hot for him to eat so he puts it on his head like a turban! So he goes to sit down with the sausage looking like a turban and salt water is running down his face. Thats as far as I can remember.

Sorry if you feel those jokes are a bit lame, but they do at least reveal the Tibetan sense of humour. It is not word play or puns that we find funny (see 'why are there no aspirins in the jungle? Because the parrots eat 'em all'. Nor is it the realization that the situation description has fooled us (How do you get two whales in a mini? down the M4. It works when told aurally). Its just plain silliness and reflects a contentment with plainness that seems unique to Tibetans. They are often content to eat just roasted barley flour (tsampa) and drink butter-tea. That is, three times a day for weeks on end. I don't want to give the impression that Tibetans are in some way super-people. But their contentment is something to be revered and remains something I myself should learn from.

They also like Fawlty Towers.

2006-06-08T16:23:00.000+01:00

The World Cup approaches.

Well, I bowed to a strong sense of pride in the national team and did a little something to show my devotion. I bought the official World Cup anthem. Now, I am aware that in terms of losing credibility admitting to liking Embrace is akin to professing an admiration for Kappa tracksuits and the Crazy Frog. But still, let us not deny that 'World at Your Feet' is catchy and rousing. It may have been written after the songwriter read 'The Bumper Book of how to rip off U2 and make lots of money' (maybe he borrowed it off Coldplay?), but I really don't care because I like it. However, I can't listen to it without wishing that there weren't so much singing. I don't think Danny McNamara is that well-informed that it is merely myth that every note needs to be covered by a lyric. Let the guitar breathe. Allow the Bass line to take the limelight. And really, is it necessary to have both choir and orchestration?

Yet I would certainly deem it good if the grand multitude embraced (sorry) this exceptional anthem and listened to it with the sense that England have indeed much better than average chances to actually win. Go on Ashley Cole! Clear the ball like a pro. Same to you Rio Ferdinand. Play as if you don't take your place in the squad for granted. Last of all, Go on Ronaldinho. Please break your legs in a manner that is unpainful just before you play England. So I don't feel quite so guilty about wishing such a thing but that England profit from your misfortune. in short, come on England! and Come on you other rivals and scupper your own chances!

2006-06-03T13:10:00.000+01:00

With Regard to comments.

It has come to my attention that its a bit of a kerfuffle posting comments on this site. So I've changed the settings so that anyone can comment. Happy posting!

Frank

2006-06-01T16:30:00.000+01:00

How to judge people.

The short answer to the question of how a person should be evaluated is that you just can't. A human being is not the same kind of object as a mango and even really horrible people can be capable of being in some sense great. Yet we really cannot help it. Modern society has a tendency to dictate whether we feel good about ourselves and who we should aspire to be like. At the moment, it seems the criteria for a good, successful, and happy person boil down to three things: how much money one has; how much sex one has; and how many friends one has. Although, for women there is in addition: how thin one is. In some ways, these are fine criteria. If one has money, one has not the need to worry about provenance. If one has sex, it indicates the presence of love and affection. If one has friends, one is ensconced in a collective that supports each member.

But lets face it, its hardly watertight. Poor people are often happy. Old people have celibate marriages but remain loving (Morrissey is celibate and seems... a bad example actually). You will on occasion find hermits in the Himalayas living happily in complete isolation. And my Mum seems quite happy despite being... on the measure towards rotund (sorry Mum). So I would suggest the following criteria if one is foolish enough as to gauge one person's life against another's: How early they get up; how nice they are to animals; and how often they apologise. But remember to take all three into account and not just one or two.

Think about it.

2006-06-01T13:32:00.000+01:00

Press 'SPACE' to avoid drivel about videogames

Due to my obssession with how people view me, I feel often compelled to try and justify my love of videogames. I happen to be of that generation of boys who never stopped being excited about graphics, gameplay and sequels to beloved favourite games. But despite the vast quantity of time I waste playing them, I still believe that a well executed videogame is the superior art form to the majority of books, plays, films, tv shows and paintings. Things which are discussed by the intelligentsia with no modicum of shame. The game 'Killer 7' is, to my mind, of greater cultural value than a book like 'Red Dragon' by Thomas Harris or 'The Da Vinci Code'. One of the reasons I like it so much is probably its pretentiousness. You play an assassin called 'Smith' who has seven distinct personalities with their own special move and weapon. The aim of the game is to put to an end a sinister organisation called 'The Heaven Smile' which utilizes a mysterious virus to turn people into hysterically shreiking blood zombies that are usually invisible. Its a bit out there. However, it is a shocking and visceral experience that is far more affecting than, say 'Time Team' or 'The Archers'. In other words, I invite anyone to be snobbish about my inability to rise before eleven in the morning and studying a subject that has no practical benefit for the beings of this planet. But a good videogame is something to cherished just as much as any good book, film, or any other piece of art.

So there.

2006-05-31T22:38:00.000+01:00

Not wishing to appear narcissistic...

I just need to post a smaller picture of myself to fit in my profile.

2006-05-31T10:40:00.000+01:00

On the subject of rectal insertions and pig wankers.

"A man walks into a doctor's surgery and reveals that he has a lettuce leaf sticking out of his backside. 'Ooh! That looks bad' says the doctor. The man replies: 'That's just the tip of the iceberg'."

This joke demonstrates perfectly how very funny it is when something is somehow inserted up the tradesman's entrance. But it is something that needs to be done with comic precision and an understanding of what the correct object in the correct scenario would be. 'The Fusilli Jerry' episode of Seinfeld did it perfectly. The insertion was accidental and the actor was the excellent Jerry Stiller. What is more, it was a very silly thing, literally fu-silly, that was inserted. Some may beg to differ, but a rectal insertion gag went quite wrong in the sitcom 'Peep Show'. The problem was that the object was sexual and it was being intentionally inserted by someone else (although, we don't really know for sure whether Jeremy had his girlfriend bugger him with a dildo). Having said that, it did well to amplify the pain factor that makes the show so engrossing.

I don't really know why rectal insertion is funny. It might be a manifestation of the hetero-man's fear of anal sex. In fact, I would believe its a fear shared by women and gay men also. Any opinions on the matter would be appreciated.

The other bastion of hilarity in my eyes is the matter of bestiality. Now, I don't want to insult the people of this world who make an honest wage from masturbating porcines. I'm sure that giving a hand-job to a Tamworth is an invaluable service to society and should be saluted as such. But just the fact that there exists the job description (albeit colloquial) of 'Pig Wanker' is never not funny in my mind. There is a punchiness to that two-word phrase that makes it sheer poetry to my adolescent idiocy. Its not quite bestiality, but its inherently a situation where someone is forced to do something revolting against their will.

Next week, I might remember to analyse (and not 'anal-ise' hur hur) Tibetan humour and talk about what Tibetans find humourous.

By the way, you will never read on this weblog any such annoying internet abbreviations as 'ell-oh-ell' or 'eye-em-aitch-oh'.

Ciao for now.

2006-05-31T02:44:00.000+01:00

2006-05-31T01:45:00.000+01:00

Oh how I do loathe the word 'blog'.

Hi everyone. My name is Frank. I'm from Stroud in Gloucestershire (UK) and I have a problem. For the last five years or so I have been consumed by the plague of pretentiousness that has been sweeping our nation. It is so overpowering as to mean there is little of me that is real substance. It is so overpowering that I cannot hold a conversation without slipping in references to Herodotus, or the didacticism of Swift, or the poetry of William Blake (hey! I even know his first name), or the fact I'm learning one of the world's hardest languages. So this weblog is my confession. Hopefully it will be updated regularly with articles and musings that alienate all with their fascinating obscurity and downright superiority to everything else ever written by anyone ever. As it goes, although I know about everything I will be logging on the subjects of politics, religion, music, videogames, film and literature. So if you want to bathe in my brilliance and bow in obeisance, I naturally acquiesce.