An issue with nuts.
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
Intolerant? Moi? Part One
An issue with nuts.
Monday, 12 August 2013
What's the colour of money?
This is a true story.
Honestly.
I have a friend. He is from Boston. He lives in LA. He is smart, funny, tech savvy and black.
Did you see the order of words? Unfortunately, in this story, the last one is the important one.
My friend is tall and broad. He's like Tiger Woods, but without the cash and pussy.
We were wandering around HMV, looking at cd's (and with that sentence, this story immediately dates itself). We were a few aisles apart when I noticed a security guard paying attention to my friend. He noticed the security stares, too.
I was amazed. Not only was this guy following my friend around a store, but he had also managed to prize his eyes away from his mobile phone for more than 2 seconds!
Anyway, my friend and I managed to get either side of the Elite Republican Security Guard. My friend picked up a cd and said, in a broad US accent, "Hey, I can buy this for half the price at home!".
The Elite Republican Guard stopped in his tracks. All his ninja reflexes had been on a heightened state. His hands hovered over his hidden ninja weapon holster, ready for use.
But something was wrong...The voice from the black person messed with his training.
His face dissolved into a misshapen collage of parts, not dissimilar to Wayne Rooney's when confronted with the words "flammable" and 'inflammable".
He had to say something. He had to excuse himself. He had to, and he did. These were his words:
"I'm sorry. You're American. I thought you were black."
I'll let that hang there....
....
....ok.
At this point, I turned into Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2.
"But", I said "he is black. Well kind of cappuccino coloured. Mocha, if you will. Egg-shell tan, as Dulux would call it.". Ok, I didn't say all of that.
The security guard ambled off, no doubt to browse interracial porn at this point, and we went on our way.
It seems to me that the real racism in this country is not about the colour of your skin, but the colour of your money.
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Reality tv
Reality TV is not real
Thinking back to 2000, when Big Brother UK was launched, I would never have envisaged what was to come. Back then, the idea of 12 strangers being placed together in isolation, all the while being watched by cameras, seemed fascinating. It was an extension of MTV’s The Real World, but not cut together for the audience. It was pure, unadulterated voyeurism.
Viewers piled in. Advertisers followed. Money was made. Syndication was guaranteed.
And a curious thing occurred.
Celebrities were created.
Were they created for a talent they had demonstrated? No. These “celebrities” were created by appearing on the show. That’s it. Even the “losers” on the show could become celebrities.
Every season of Big Brother seemed to try and find bigger and bigger personalities to keep people watching. Viewers were teased with the potential of fights, race issues, flirting and nudity by the programme makers to keep them watching. New and horrible challenges were created to provoke a reaction from the people on the show. There was an international race incident during one show that grabbed headlines everywhere.
It was unbelievable!
And that’s the problem. It is not believable. It is not reality. I’ll get back to this in a minute.
Big Brother set the ball rolling. It was followed by Survivor, The Amazing Race, Celebrity Big Brother and variations of the theme. We also had The Osbournes, starring Ozzie and people we did not know at the time. We know them now.
Clever people who make loads of money saw potential. “Hey” they said to each other during blue sky meetings whilst taking the helicopter view of maximising facetime with clients, “there’s gold in them there hills!”. I’m paraphrasing.
They reverted to one of the earlier types of reality tv, the talent show (think Opportunity Knocks with Hughie Green). Pop Idol gave people the chance to vote for a favourite act and buy the song they sing. Voting by text earned the companies a fortune and some (Mr. Cowell) were quick to grasp the opportunity to earn big bucks very quickly. Pop Idol eventually morphed into The X Factor. Get loads of people that can sing and let’s film them auditioning!!!” said the executives. “Wait a second, the people that can’t sing are sometimes more popular. Let’s have more of them!”, they said.
It was unbelievable. Again.
Then we had the creation of the reality tv creature. The Paris Hiltons, the Nicole Richies, the Kardashians, the Real Housewives of wherever.
Does anyone believe this is real tv? Does anyone believe the dramatic pauses in the X Factor are not scripted? Does anyone understand how a person who is, at best, deranged or, at worst, mentally challenged can get to be in front of Cowell et al and sing so poorly?
It isn’t real.
Back at the turn of the 20th century, circuses or carnivals used to tour the US and the UK. Normally contained within the exhibits was the freak show. John Merrick was one such “exhibit” in the UK. He was more commonly known as The Elephant Man. Patrons paid to see the freaks. The bearded lady, the conjoined twins, the man with three legs, the pinheads, the little people! Step right up and see them all!!!
The reality shows mentioned above and “My Big Fat Gypsy…” and its ilk are the new freak shows. Come and see the transgender person deal with the homophobe. Come and see the racist deal with the black person. Come and see the Muslim and the Jew under the one roof.
In reality, these people would never mix in such circumstances. The fake “reality” is created to draw viewers in, to have them stare at the “freaks” and see how they interact. Whatever the social experiment this was at the start is now a freak show, intent on creating the next big thing before the next big thing is created.
People volunteer to be on these shows in the hopes of becoming a successful celebrity. And what are they famous for?
Being on reality tv.
There is only one reality tv creator for whom I have respect. Sir David Attenborough and his crew of film makers capture real life situations involving creatures we will probably only get to see on television. They are in a real world environment (because it is the real world). The camera watches and what happens, happens. There is no voting. There is no dying relative that the creatures are trying to assist. There is just the reality of nature, red in tooth and claw.
The scary thing?
David Attenborough’s shows ratings are tiny compared to some of the shows above. The higher the ratings of the “reality TV” shows, the less of a chance of a new series of the calibre of Blue Planet. Nature documentaries are expensive to produce and do not earn their money back. The “reality” shows cost very little (no script, no actors) and earn advertising and vote money.
Maybe we need to get real.
Monday, 8 April 2013
Not a controversial topic at all...
First real blog.
Saturday, 6 April 2013
You've made it this far...
Wheat on one side, chaff on the other. The easily offended and those made of sterner stuff have been noted. The meek have slithered off to inherit the Earth.
The biggest issue I had about blogging was quite an obvious one, "What would I blog about?".
I don't own a business, I am not promoting a product of my own, I am not seeking disciple-like followers (though they are welcome).
It eventually boiled down to my other half saying "Put it on the web! I have to listen to your rubbish constantly! I shouldn't suffer alone!". She is, of course, correct...again. So blame her.
Here is a list of what to expect:
Rugby posts - mostly about Leinster, Ireland and how Martin Johnson/Chris Ashton is a twat;
Books/tv shows/film/music - what I read/watch/listen to, why I think you'll like it, why I don't care if you don't and why you are wrong;
Comedy - suggestions of comedians to seek out and how to avoid Des Bishop;
Geek stuff - not as geeky as some, but more geeky than is entirely healthy;
Anything else that interests me. I don't care that you don't care.
What I will not blog about is work and politics, so that's a good thing.
If you are of a religious bent, please be aware that I am not. I am not a vitriolic atheist, but if you are of a religion that purports love of all people except those that are different, please rest assured that you may be offended by what I may say at some some point. Don't take it personally, though.
So, if you're interested, stay tuned. If you are not, that's ok.
Wow! A whole post with no swearwords! Holy Shit!
I am Not Safe For Work
Blogging it is.
I must warn you that I will use bad language.
Like "cunt", not "count" as my computer insists on attempting to correct the dreaded c-word.
Occasional use will be made of the word "fuck" and its various different forms (eg fucker, fucking, fucked up, motherfucker, etc.).
"Piss" is another word that will feature, though rarely. Curiously, "shit" or "shite" will occur more frequently, and not as a result of a laxative. "Cock" will also appear, though probably, and ironically, far removed from "piss".
"Arse" is another guaranteed word to be used. As is "fart".
"Knobgobbler", "twat", "cock-knocker", "motherfucking cock-knocker" and variations on themes will also appear, but usually only in the proper context. The proper context is solely mine to judge.
"Tits" will also appear, but not pictorially.
If you've made it this far without being offended, my next blog will indicate what I'll be blogging about.
If you were offended, don't read it again. You are your own best censor.