Schrodinger's lolcat

yes! I know! A whole month without convergences must have been hard. We're sorrrry. Poor you. But really, come on now. Look around you- there are convergence everywhere you look- you can't just rely on us twos to keep you informed of such matters. It's a very blinkered way of doing things, even if the blinkers are a lovely set of 'em.
The LHC experiment for example- that had a lot of scope for convergence recently. You know, that big proton collider thing in Switzerland; the LHC! The LHC! The LHC. The LHC? Everyone's talking about the LHC. Don't tell me you haven't learnt your Higgs Bosons from your Schrodinger's cats? You really can't have missed any of the coverage that the proton... um, 'thing' was given, seeing as it was pretty well covered everywhere (and then subsequently forgotten once the news media realised that it's a bit of a 'black hole' excitement-wise, and that it's going to take weeks before they find all the cool sh*t).
Now, that was a pretty big convergence, right on your metaphorical doorstep, as it were (-let's just never mind writing about the actual convergence of writing about the massive, earth-altering science spinny on the actual day it took place). Just imagine the protons as they went spinning around that big loopy thingy, propelled by magnets, just below the speed of light... just where did they get them from? The proton farm?
What if the ones they selected to smash into each other- potentially causing another big bang- were actually the same protons that caused Big Bang I? Or, were the same protons that split the first zygote in the first human embryo? Or that the protons sent around in that experiment came from space and had hitched a ride on the asteroid that 'brought the noise' to the dinosaurs? Wow, huh? Now that's convergence* (note: these might not be convergence. But seeing as I'm taking liberties with a lot of science in the above (are protons reusable? zygotes? ) mangling some English isn't a big concern- I'm just trippin' the light fantastic over the keyboard in front of me, here. Do you think Fred Astaire knew exactly where each and every tippidy-tap went on the old dancefloor? Really??)

Anywayz, both Tiffany-darling and I really couldn't have brought you any postings on whatever was floating through our mind convergence-wise this past month, because we were both having a pretty big convergence of our own in the middle of August at the 'Grand Convergence Convention, Philadelphia '08'. It's hard to believe but we actually met up, face-to-face, jungle-to-jungle in glorious IMAX 4D where during the event many issues were brought to topic in what some commenters are calling Pop Culture's Versailles Treaty- such as; Play/Pause/Rewind tattoos, beach volleyball sexism, musical sustainability, parallel parking, Corey cubed... Yes, indeed. We were basically living like a couple a' clever young Turks.
And although the world didn't end with the big experiment on Wednesday, the earth certainly did move when we two met for our brief encounter this summer at the Con-Con. In a word, this commenter said it was 'smashing'. I've thought about this subsequently though, and feel perhaps only this convergence of rap and country's biggest stars coming together in one song can only just about sum up how I feel:



And that's just the thing- this correspondent, now back in the land of Roast Beef, feels ever so slightly strange ever since I've been back. It's like when you're walking down the same set of stairs you've known for ages, but you misjudge the last step and it catches you out unawares, sending you clattering into the floor- and for a second, you don't know what the F is going on, because you've walked, run, skipped down these stairs hundreds of times (this happens a lot to me, what with my marionette limbs flailing about in the manner that they do sometimes). Now, imagine that one second of shock but prolonged for about a month, and you've got me these past few days. I don't know where I am, what I'm doing... I'm leaning up against walls, trying to workout what's going on... My temporal re-emplacement has been hindered also by the weather here in Blighty. I can honestly say since returning from the glorious east coast of America, there has been four complete sunny days. Four. That means for 86% of the time, it was raining. Now, when it rains for 86% of your time, maybe you'd feel a little bit strange as well. Take a read here what our own country's Meteorological Office has been describing the month August as...

Holy smokes- even the whole country even describes ITSELF as 'exceptionally dull'. The first sentence takes care of the general weather description- it's nothing to slit your wrists over- but the next one is just there to rub it in, reminding people of the general, dismal feeling about the place. It's just sooo depressing, in more ways then one I can tell you. So, I made this lolcat to make me feel better.



He he! It sorta worked.

....(not quite)BREAKING NEWS on the CONVERGENCES NEWS TICKER.....a new, even younger work experience kid came in to work a couple of weeks ago; he HAD seen Pulp Fiction...(not quite) BREAKING NEWS on the CONVERGENCES NEWS TICKER....


Convergence alert! Tiffany talks about the funtime pic Kindergarten Kop and the very same day I found myself accidentally/deliberately tuning into another Arnie Schwaz 80s 'dramady'....Spooky!
In its genre's prime Saturday mid-afternoon slot, the film I'm talking about is Twins(!)

And oh, what a terrible film. I remember watching it when I was much much younger, remembering that I quite enjoyed it- specifically the scenes where he picks up the car to turn off the alarm scene and the 'ahh, they both have twin babies at the end!' bit. I remember quite enjoying these bits:
1. because I liked the sentimental drug overdose climax of the twins having twin babies and
2. because as a young lad, watching Arns lift that car up off the ground, I thought it's only a matter of time before I became a man like that and have to do the very same thing, all the time- as if it were a chore I imagined grown-up men were always having to do for women; grudgingly doing it, but secretly enjoying the chivalry. Lifting a car off the ground to turn off the alarm: surely it's just like opening jam jars, my young mind equated.
So, I watched Twins again but even those bits were quite bad to watch. Even the look of the film was an assault: everything seemed to be in soft-focus and looked akward in a not-quite-eightes, not-quite-nineties way: everything was either peach or beige coloured.

For the purposes of this blog, I I took notes during the film. Here they are:
-they're twins?!
-smoking in the supermarket
I was amazed during that scene- the two lead women were smoking-in a supermarket. It was supremely incongruous- like the stature difference between the film's two movie star actors. I was half expecting the big baby payoff at the end of the film to now feature the wee bairns smoking down on some Woodbines. If that were to happen today it would make the news(supermarket smoking, not babies smoking- that would be a You Tube smash)

I feel asleep during the film. While sleeping on the sofa, my mind drifted to "Twins'" sister 80s (slash 90s!) funtime picture sisters- like the alluring sisters that feature in The Virgin Suicides. Pour example:
The Flight of The Navigator,
Three Men and a Baby/Little Lady,
Innerspace,
Big,
Crocodile Dundee,
Back To The Futures 2 and 3,
Working Girl,
Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead,
Bill and Ted,
Weird Science,
Big,
Universal Soldier,
California Man,
Beethoven,
The 'burbs,
The Secret of My Success,
Taking Care of Business,
Romancing The Stone,
Short Circuit...
.. you know the films I mean. I thought about them, and picking up on Scriff's point, why aren't Hollywood making this type of film anymore? Films like Turner and Hooch weren't really blockbusters and they won't win any Oscars (although Hooch's saliva-based tomdroolery was at times memorably side-splitting grusome), but they were decent, alright films. Had I paid to see them in the cinema, I wouldn't have really felt like I'd been robbed, say: they weren't bad, they weren't great, they were just "nice" movies. Lamenting the past in a misanthropic way, it seems to me that films today don't aim for the middle ground like The Money Pit did. Making comparisons, does 'Stepbrother' look like the kind of film I'm talking about? Films coming out today are films that are either The Most Amazing Film To Be Released This Year! or they are just terrible terribel! movies. Supreme case in point: The Pacifier (obviously in the The Most Amazing Film To Be Released This Year! category). If I turn on the TV in 2028 at 3.30pm, will 'What Happens In Vegas' be on? Will I want to watch it, like I would Innerspace (hooradio! Innerspace is such a good movie, a fact Tiff and I have already converged) today? Probably not- around 2028 is when you'll find me lurking around inner-city car parks, hoping to lift up women's cars should their alarms go off. If I start with the stair-master now, I should have the muscle power in about 12 years. Either that, or I'll be popping out my first sprog like Arnie does in Twins' afterbirth of a movie, Junior

I haven't posted for ages I know, so here's a picture of my sunburnt feet to make up for it

"Hey, I got a Mel Annomer on the phone... wants to know where his lobster dinners are?" The first and LAST time I wear flip-flips, I can tell you. In a strange quirk, I use my feet to type instead of my hands, so...
I don't really. But I'm having hurricanes of fantastic blog ideas, so keep your eyes peeled and your skin peeling

On the subject of being old, starring Vin Diesel

Firstly, I totally just gmailed myself the link to East Village Radio, which sounds awesome, as to remember to coordinate it on the computer I’m allowed to download things like iTunes on. Which ones do you like best? The descriptions are hysterical [i.e. “(((Attuned))) with DJ AT: mood driving psychotraumatic stuff,” and “The Continuous Mammal with Niall: audio adjustments and consciousness calibration. prepping you for the portal in 2012.” Pyschotraumatic?! What’s that?, I wonder – For some reason I can only think of Slipknot, who would probably describe themselves as way more psychotraumatic than their music merits…

Secondly, on the subject of being old. My jaw literally dropped with the Pulp Fiction bit. Has it really been FOURTEEN years?! I know I know that it is sooo ironic or whatever for people as young as we to be harping on our old age, but it truly is coming into a new age when you realize, for example, that people who were born the same year as Pulp Fiction now look old enough to purchase cigarettes illegally at less reputable establishments. I recently had a similar experience when someone I know, a senior in high school, reminded me she wasn’t BORN for the fall of the Berlin Wall. And she’s not like, a toddler now? Impossible.

On the subject of convergences [and being old], I truly was having a similar experience at about the same time as the last posting. This guy proposed a social gathering centered on the Arnold Schwarzenegger Drinking Game, in which you drink whenever Ahhnold says something that would kill the mood in bed [as in, “I'm not a pervert! I was just looking for a Turbo Man doll!”]. While any choice would have easily been a real gem [Hercules in New York, Conan the Barbarian, Twins, etc.] we selected Kindergarten Cop. Naturally, the game was wildly entertaining [“it’s not a tumah!”] – but I also remembered that I kind of really legitimately like Kindergarten Cop.

I got to thinking about WHY I like Kindergarten Cop, and, as in musings on similarly-liked films, I wanted to figure out how much of my childhood wonder is coloring my current estimation. Do I only like Kindergarten Cop because I remember finding its proliferation of potty jokes, slapstick humor, and Schwarzenegger’s steely antics hysterical when I was 8? I’d like to think that, as in the case of the aforementioned similarly-liked film, that Kindergarten Cop DOES have some transcendent quality, Arnold a particularly capable turn of muddled Austrian phrase...

But then I tried to compare KC to its modern day equivalent - and the only thing I could come up with was The Pacifier, starring Vin Diesel. And actually, as soon as I thought of it I realized that it was the PERFECT comparison. Don’t get me wrong, I still refuse to submit myself to that particular two hours of pandying, pandering, schmaltzy tired Disney rigamorole – but even without seeing it, I can tell its premise is near identical to my beloved Schwarzenegger vehicle: Über-tough serviceman meets conniving and wily children, hilarity ensues.

Except for one thing: The Pacifier is obviously terrible. Terrible! A quick Rotten Tomato reveals that its overall critical rating was 21% - and we can assume that 20% of those were Disney-Time Warner-owned publications. To be plain, there is no way in hell I would ever have the remotest interest in seeing this film, and I could guarantee that if forced to sit through it, I would not find a SINGLE instance of slipping on ice or vomit REMOTELY laughable. Please reference this pretty lame interview chock full of Diesel "witticisms" for more evidence... they even cite Kindergarten Cop.

The point of the matter is that I feel old because Kindergarten Cop came out in 1990, when I was in fact, in kindergarten. Bizarrely, though, I feel MORE bad about myself for liking Kindergarten Cop – and it’s only because I am now comparing it to The Pacifier, which I hate. I realize that were I in kindergarten now, I would probably like The Pacifier, and for some reason I feel like that fact nullifies a lot of my movie-related musings and defenses. It also makes me doubt the universal merits of KC… I mean, it DID get a 50% on the Tomatometer, and quoth the TV Guide entry, when it played one of bazillions of times in the past 10 years: “Actually fairly entertaining, buoyed by Schwarzenegger's self-deprecating charm and easy chemistry with his capable costar, Pamela Reed, and the hammiest bunch of tykes ever assembled for a movie.” Yeah!

I am kind of terrible at ending these bloggy ramblings, but perhaps our only consolation is that we can “still feel young” by continuing to enjoy some of the simpler pleasures of youth, even if those pleasures are laughing at an overmuscled immigrant wrestler as he is thwarted by a 6 year old.

Happy Birthday Gary Busey!

Yes, that's right- it's ol' Mr, Joshua's birthday today! The Oscar-nominted artiste is 64 today (and before you incredulously look it up on imdb, he was nom'ed for The Buddy Holly Story- and not 1999's Hot Boyz, or his role as the 'Mr Katz' in the exciting-sounding 2006 film 'Shut Up and Shoot!'). Unfortunately though this isn't a continuation post of the theme of Gaz Buze, but merely (merely!) more pop culture fluff.
The topic of hilarious band! names immediately made me think of a story I heard a long time ago; precisely 2004/5 and the aftermath of the horrific Asian Tsunami. Now, it's a good thing I started this post with the happy celebration of The Buze's birthday, but you needn't worry- the only thing depressing and tragic about the rest of the post will the manner in which it is written.
Anywayz, the tsunami prompted many fund-raising events, one of which being concerts. There was a big one in Cardiff I remember, as well as many others- one of which featured a headline act of the rather unfortunately-named punk rock band "Million Dead", with posters for the event reading, of course, you guessed it... "Asian Tsunami: Million Dead". 

Grim-sounding band names have their place in insinuating fear and dread and whatnot, but in times of actual fear and dread, the band's attempts can only look wholly out of their depth. Remember the anthrax Anthrax scare/mix up a few years ago? Maybe, in today's heightened terror risk, axis of evil world we now live in (hey now...! North Korea! I see you made it off the axis list! Well done, guys!), bands now have to resort to off the wall names in order to be more P.C? "Test Icicles" surely proves this infallible suggestion (?)
Regardless of  P.C. or not, I still find them quite insulting to the point where I'm just put off listening to such bands by their name alone; Does It Offend You, Yeah? is a case in point. One trend I have picked up on is that the bands young Tiffany has pointed out is that they are all British bands (right?), which kind of makes sense, in that as long as you've got a funny! name over here, it's more likely that people will buy you and hype you beyond belief, such is the dearth of half-decent music and the clamour for the next big noisy thing. It's become conversely a useful compass: decent band names point to decent sounds: The Carpenters, Bowling For Soup, The Wonders. Crap names find the needle pointing to crap music: Fucked Up, Fuck Buttons and Cribshitter- ALL true names. In summary, if your band's not called "The Cars", I won't like you.
Now, on my old pop culture radar this week: Being Old.
At work this week, I have had the dubious pleasure of having to share the burden of making coffee and loading the dishwasher with a work experience kid (or, "intern" as I have been informed of for the benefit our American audience(e)). The kid is indeed a kid, barely over the age of 16, which is hard to swallow; it's not enough that I'm worried about his overshadowing of me in a job that you have to be pretty inept to be undershadowed in, but he already has this 8 years thing on me. Eight years! He was born in 1992. I can actually remember existing playing Scatch in 1992 for christsakes! (you can already pretty much guess the tone of the rest of this subsequent post). I have already regaled to Tiffers some of the magic moments the generation gap between us has presented (i.e. "Shaggy's "It wasn't me"? It's a classic song"), but I have saved the best moment for convergences.
Whilst working, we listen to a lot of East Village Radio podcasts (and you should too, because they're great!). The podcasts are just playlists of music, and part of the enjoyment of listening to them is not knowing what's on there and finding new sounds- (...and discovering new music this way circumvents the aforementioned band name problem I have). One such podcast myself and the kid were listening to had this song on it.
I call it 'this song' because it's that song; I, you, and everybody else in the world, doesn't need to know who it's by or what it's called because we all know what the song usually signifies and what it is now forever entwined to. Well, I say "I, you and everybody else", but what I really mean is "I, you, and everybody else WHO IS OLD". For, when listening to the song, the young boy pipes up, in all seriousness, "what is this song? A remix?". "A remix," I reply, quite confused, but starting to sense inside of me that something is beginning to die. "A remix of what?". "You know, of the Black Eyes Peas song. Where's all their rapping?". I tried to tell him that, no, ha, this is the original- before the Peas came along. You must know- "it's a famous song....

...what, ha, haven't you seen Pulp Fiction?"

"No."

And there it is. The coffin is rolled behind the curtain. Maybe (probably) I am making too much of this, but after he said he hadn't seen Pulp Fiction, I was honestly floored for five minutes, reduced to stuttering questions at him like "what?", "is this a grey hair to you?" and "can you recommend a decent mortgage?". I was honestly shocked, but a special kind of shocked. Okay, so, he hadn't seen a film- it is 14 (choke) years old now after all. But I feel I should refine my surprised state; it wasn't like a sneering Jack Black in High Fidelity type thing I sure you know- I wasn't being some sort of film snob, laughing at someone who's filmic knowledge was considerably less then mine. My shockery was based on the fact that everyone in my generation sort of has to have to seen the film; that it was part of our co-existence that you have seen it and experienced all the culture that went with it; the soundtrack, the suitcase, the plaster on Marcellus Wallace's neck. I'm not even that crazy about the film, but it was part of my generation's culture and I'd always figured that my generation was the young generation- that me and all the youngster were all the same band of people. Yet what this Pulp Fiction brouhaha had demonstrated to me was that there was in fact now a tangible difference between another young person and myself, and that he and his contemporaries now had or will have their own films, music and trends, and that I am no longer with the young generation. My own band had broken away and moved on to talk about and be invested in different things to the youth culture, with which from now onwards I shall be further and further out of step with; for it now seems that I am getting older. Console me, please. I'll console myself- for I have a three-month cushion over a certain co-blogger should the world suddenly go Logan's Run Seven years to go, dear!

Bad Decisions! at the Record Store

One of my biggest pet peeves is being gimmicky, or, as I like to call it, doing something for the sake of doing it—as opposed to doing something because it makes sense or is a good idea. In other words, I despise most things that come from a conversation along the lines of, “We should totally JUST communicate in LOLcatsspeak… man, people wouldn’t know WHAT to do!,” or “I might as well start smoking – I mean, what’s the point of life anyway?,” or “My birthday party theme is just going to be, like, anti-fashion.” Such lines of pseudo-reasoning inspire a particular look from me [even if no one is around I still make this face! I might be making it right now!] that’s been described as a mix of incredulity and disgust.

A prime example of this can be seen in band names. I hate when I feel like a band has looked at the entire catalogue of life’s words and phrases and chosen a particular one ONLY because it will be difficult to print on posters or will incite discussion that has nothing to do with their music. Examples would be Prince’s turn to that weird symbol, any band with F*ck [or other words I can’t say to my mother] in their name, a reference to some disgusting bodily function, or—even though I used to kind of be okay with it—a long title with incongruous! punctuation.

A band that selects a gimmicky, complicated, or eff you, the man! sort of name is telling you something about them right off the bat: being shocking and/or annoying to “squares” or “tools” or “gen Y” or “adults”, or whoever they think will be shocked or annoyed, is more important than their music. For the most part, I don’t want to listen to any group that considers gross-out humor part of their act. I would rather not even listen to a band that has to think about HAVING an act.

However, I say “for the most part” in the above qualifier because I have been foiled in this stubborn assertion of mine before. Exhibit A: the short-lived Test Icicles. Their name was ridiculous, yet I think it accurately reflected the scummy dance thrash pop of three chavvy little London teens who broke up within a year just because they felt like it. I thought [and still think] their album was pretty rad. Exhibit B: Holy F*ck. I REALLY did not want to like them out of principle [principle being its stupid to name yourself something just for the sake of making certain people grimace], but of course they make lovely gorgeous ambient rock music that is one of my favorite things of the moment.

And finally Exhibit C, the impetus for this post. Does it Offend You, Yeah?: I HATE this name. I wouldn’t even listen to them, assuming it would sound like Vampire Weekend or some other newish pop I’m supposed to like a lot but that actually sounds a lot like the Arctic Monkeys [yeesh, another winceable name choice there…]. But just like Holy F*ck, they snuck onto my Hype Machine a few times and before I knew it, I kind of liked it. There, I said it. Maybe I’m just FINALLY over my post-Justice weepy folk kick or something, but I thought it was kind of catchy…

For Rob: What’s the consensus on, err, DIOY?Y….? Is it inexcusably cliché? Or perhaps more than BEARABLE?

Checkmate!

ScarJonesin'

I know this project dropped over a month ago, but I don’t care what anybody says: I STILL think Scarlett Johansson is a terrible singer.

After the initial incredulity regarding the whole project wore off [ScarJo pulling a LinLo? Of Tom Waits covers?!?!], this project seems to have passed into the realm of “superliminal ironic favor” in the music blogosphere, i.e. Scarlett Johansson covering Tom Waits is so obviously a poor choice that I am going to go against the grain and deem it “surprisingly good.” Or maybe all these music bloggers’ megacrushes on the lovely and talented chantreuse got the best of them. Either way, its comparable to Pitchfork’s annual obligatory favorable review of a bubblegum pop song [e.g. Kelly Clarkson and Rihanna cracking the top ten on their best of the year lists] to counter attacks on their pretentiousness. This measure is futile, as most of their writers seem to be trying their best to impress freshman year creative writing professors with the longest possible concoction of grandiose phrases and convoluted metaphors.

I’ve been spouting this whole Johansson soapbox for awhile now, usually too loudly and usually while drinking. Granted, I DID only listen to the first 30 seconds of the first single I found on the Hype Machine before deciding that no, everyone is wrong, this is not ironically interesting, this is really just terrible. So today I decided to revisit the project and make sure I wouldn’t be eating my words. But no. It really is seriously terrible. How could anyone think this could be interesting and/or pleasing to listen to? And I dig ScarJo, I really do. I think she wears great clothes and is a good actress who picks interesting projects. But I think that makes me even more fed up with her singing debut—since she took the so obviously Hollywood indie chick route of choosing an artist with sickening hipster cred, and then didn’t follow through with something that I could even secretly like.

Things I secretly like: Extreme Makeover Home Edition. That Finger Eleven song that rips off Franz Ferdinand with paralyzingly bad modern rock lyrics. Franz Ferdinand. Chee-tos. Justice mashups. Dudes in khaki cargo shorts.

See, it’s not that difficult!