Unless Penelope Cruz calls round to give you a second opinion on that groin strain this is the best two minutes and forty eight seconds you'll have this Christmas.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Another Loose End Tied Up
The upshot of a heated discussion this morning on Twitter is that there appears to be no collective noun for snowmen. May I propose allardyce to fill the void?
As in " Oh Maura you should get yourself into town, the Christmas decorations look fantastic. I turned onto Grafton Street and my senses were assailed by an allardyce of giant, glowing snowmen. It was beautiful."
You're welcome.
As in " Oh Maura you should get yourself into town, the Christmas decorations look fantastic. I turned onto Grafton Street and my senses were assailed by an allardyce of giant, glowing snowmen. It was beautiful."
You're welcome.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Cúpla Focail: Bull agus Shit
I read with interest recently that Leo Varadkar is going to do all he can to improve his Irish; he would like to have more Irish.
Leo seems to believe that there is not enough bullshit in his life, that he could always accommodate a bit more. Leo thrives on bullshit to the point that wandering the halls of Leinster House all day every day is not exposing him to quite enough of the stuff.
Leo says this is all fine and well but take me to the source, the fountain, the spiritual home of this thing we call bullshit. Take me to the place that all other bullshit regimens around the world call Daddy. Take me to, take me to……… the gaeltacht. That's right, the gaeltacht.
The gaeltacht is where he is headed next summer to put his tolerance to the most severe of tests. Someone like Leo might think there is no level of bullshit that he cannot withstand but I don’t think he is aware of how much the gaeltacht ups the ante in this area.
This is a place whose sole raison d’être is the production of bullshit. It’s a vocation, a calling; these people are professionals. Leo may think Dáil Éireann gives him the edge but he is really stepping into the lion’s den here.
You haven’t seen bullshit until you’ve attempted to discuss European fishing quotas as gaeilge standing on a rocky outcrop in Mayo with a fella who insists upon being addressed as Aodhránichaneann mic Breathnachainnaidhgohiontach.
To which we say to Leo, good luck with that shit.
I on the other hand am doing all I can to have the Irish in my head removed in order to make room for something useful like Canadian recruitment agency phone numbers and last weekend’s Premiership results.
There is a gap in the market here for a hypnotherapist or some such similar practitioner, to remove all the remnants of an Gaeilge and the attendant bad memories and trauma from our collective consciousness. To clear the way for a full life, free from bullshit. Free at last.
Or as free as any man, whose name is not Leo Varadkar, can be.
Leo says this is all fine and well but take me to the source, the fountain, the spiritual home of this thing we call bullshit. Take me to the place that all other bullshit regimens around the world call Daddy. Take me to, take me to……… the gaeltacht. That's right, the gaeltacht.
The gaeltacht is where he is headed next summer to put his tolerance to the most severe of tests. Someone like Leo might think there is no level of bullshit that he cannot withstand but I don’t think he is aware of how much the gaeltacht ups the ante in this area.
This is a place whose sole raison d’être is the production of bullshit. It’s a vocation, a calling; these people are professionals. Leo may think Dáil Éireann gives him the edge but he is really stepping into the lion’s den here.
You haven’t seen bullshit until you’ve attempted to discuss European fishing quotas as gaeilge standing on a rocky outcrop in Mayo with a fella who insists upon being addressed as Aodhránichaneann mic Breathnachainnaidhgohiontach.
To which we say to Leo, good luck with that shit.
I on the other hand am doing all I can to have the Irish in my head removed in order to make room for something useful like Canadian recruitment agency phone numbers and last weekend’s Premiership results.
There is a gap in the market here for a hypnotherapist or some such similar practitioner, to remove all the remnants of an Gaeilge and the attendant bad memories and trauma from our collective consciousness. To clear the way for a full life, free from bullshit. Free at last.
Or as free as any man, whose name is not Leo Varadkar, can be.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Good News, Bad News. What's The Difference?
Let's talk about the standard and tone of newsreaders, we have touched on it before. A few days ago I listened to a bulletin on a national radio station. The two lead items; the deaths of three members of a Co. Down family in a farming accident and the discovery of the body of an eleven year old girl in a house in Tullamore were delivered in the chirpy manner you would expect for coverage of the birth of a baby panda at Dublin Zoo. No attempt was made to make the delivery appropriate to the subject matter. Shocking stuff.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Management Theory
An extract from Dion Fanning in last week's Sunday Independent on Scottish football managers:
"Scotland and Ireland have many similarities. We are wedded together by a complex relationship with drink and England but Ireland has never managed to produce the great managers that were rolled out in Scotland.
Some say the Scottish accent provides its own authority whereas the Irish accent, to English ears, is associated with the arrival of a fun activity like all-night drinking or even all-day drinking.
The response, "I just love your accent", is all very well and can often be turned to our advantage, but it slightly undermines the point if you've just told the listener they're a worthless piece of shit who will never play for the club again.
Perhaps this is why Michael O' Leary irritates English people so much. As soon as they hear his voice, some involuntary neural reflex has them thinking, "I just love your accent", before they register that he, or one of his proxies, is telling them that they owe him £745 for a packet of Skittles."
"Scotland and Ireland have many similarities. We are wedded together by a complex relationship with drink and England but Ireland has never managed to produce the great managers that were rolled out in Scotland.
Some say the Scottish accent provides its own authority whereas the Irish accent, to English ears, is associated with the arrival of a fun activity like all-night drinking or even all-day drinking.
The response, "I just love your accent", is all very well and can often be turned to our advantage, but it slightly undermines the point if you've just told the listener they're a worthless piece of shit who will never play for the club again.
Perhaps this is why Michael O' Leary irritates English people so much. As soon as they hear his voice, some involuntary neural reflex has them thinking, "I just love your accent", before they register that he, or one of his proxies, is telling them that they owe him £745 for a packet of Skittles."
Friday, September 21, 2012
Give Her The Holly
I read with interest today of someone who was fined €400.00 for flashing his lights to warn oncoming drivers of a speed camera.
So despite all the protestations by Gardaí and local authorities that the sole purpose of these cameras is road safety does this not amount to a straight admission that it is in fact revenue generation?
If the motivation is a genuine desire to reduce speed was this citizen not providing invaluable help in this regard, should he not have been commended rather than fined? Seemingly not.
King Chicken
There was a woman on the radio today who has just written a book entitled “Why Your Five Year Old Could Not Have Done That”. She is an advocate of the gallery system as an effective means of bringing worthwhile pieces of art to the attention of the public.
She made the point that it is people in the know, the artistic community, people who have studied art, curators etc. who decide what makes it into galleries in the first place. So a filter has already been applied before what we would call “the public” get to see it. Which of course begs the eternal question; what is art and more pertinently who decides?
The same scenario applies when it comes to fashion. You’ve often heard it said of someone that they have style or taste or a great sense of fashion based on the clothes that they wear. Clothes that were inevitably purchased in a shop. Clothes that were chosen for that shop by a buyer in an office in London or New York or Paris. At least one filter has already been applied. It's the same story with furniture.
We think we like certain art, clothes or furniture but the decision has been made for us behind closed doors.
I wrote a poem yesterday on the back of my bus ticket about a chicken that survives the nuclear holocaust. By my reckoning that’s art. But you will never see it so by our friend's logic it is not art any more, it ceases to be art when it doesn't attract an audience.
According to her any One Direction song you care to choose has more artistic merit than post apocalyptic poultry poetry.
That can't be right.
According to her any One Direction song you care to choose has more artistic merit than post apocalyptic poultry poetry.
That can't be right.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Pat's High Hat
The Energy Regulator was on Pat Kenny this morning. In response to a case put to him by Pat wherein a person uses €3.00 of electricity per month but is obliged to pay a bill of €40.00 per month The Regulator treated us to a delightful yarn about hidden costs and some heretofore unheard of arrangement whereby the ESB are still paying for wires that were installed decades ago, the costs for which are being “paid back on average over time”.
This is the standard, this is where we’re at. The position of Energy Regulator, a big job, and a job that would definitely fall into the big swinging mickey category has attracted the caliber of person who will go on national radio and utter a sentence containing the words “paid back on average over time”.
Fr. Spud Murphy, my third year Maths teacher, had a well calibrated bullshit radar and when faced with an obfuscating student would simply nod and say “Yes, indeed and what’s the difference between a duck?”
It would be nice to see the eminent current affairs presenter of the national broadcaster deploy similar techniques when faced with something of the order of “paid back on average over time”.
Instead of some verbose comment designed solely to illustrate that he knows more about the subject at hand than the guest how about “What’s the difference between a duck?”
I, for one, won’t live to see it; they have each other’s backs, these guys.
This is the standard, this is where we’re at. The position of Energy Regulator, a big job, and a job that would definitely fall into the big swinging mickey category has attracted the caliber of person who will go on national radio and utter a sentence containing the words “paid back on average over time”.
Fr. Spud Murphy, my third year Maths teacher, had a well calibrated bullshit radar and when faced with an obfuscating student would simply nod and say “Yes, indeed and what’s the difference between a duck?”
It would be nice to see the eminent current affairs presenter of the national broadcaster deploy similar techniques when faced with something of the order of “paid back on average over time”.
Instead of some verbose comment designed solely to illustrate that he knows more about the subject at hand than the guest how about “What’s the difference between a duck?”
I, for one, won’t live to see it; they have each other’s backs, these guys.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Just The One
Overheard on Portlaoise to Dublin bus Saturday afternoon;
"Did you have a drink last night Becky?"
"I'd a bottle of wine that's all"
"Did you have a drink last night Becky?"
"I'd a bottle of wine that's all"
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Pat & Rory
Pat Kenny became very agitated the other day on the subject of Rory McIlroy and an interview he gave to the Daily Mail newspaper. Rory said that he has always felt more British than Irish. Pat thought this was a stupid thing to say. Seemingly and surprisingly, Pat knows Rory better then Rory knows Rory.
It was a rare and interesting outburst from Pat. It was interesting in that he chose a sporting issue on which to discard his usual staunchly impartial stance. Pat made the decision that a matter pertaining to professional golf was not worthy of his trademark cautiousness, that he could let the hair down a bit. In trifling matters such as sport it appears Pat is not hesitant to let himself go.
It would be great to see Pat being similarly candid, similarly fast and loose with his tuppence worth when it comes to, say, coverage of the teacher conferences, the labour relations commission or the Croke Park agreement but no, it seems he will keep it to the golf. And Trapattoni.
It was a rare and interesting outburst from Pat. It was interesting in that he chose a sporting issue on which to discard his usual staunchly impartial stance. Pat made the decision that a matter pertaining to professional golf was not worthy of his trademark cautiousness, that he could let the hair down a bit. In trifling matters such as sport it appears Pat is not hesitant to let himself go.
It would be great to see Pat being similarly candid, similarly fast and loose with his tuppence worth when it comes to, say, coverage of the teacher conferences, the labour relations commission or the Croke Park agreement but no, it seems he will keep it to the golf. And Trapattoni.
Monday, September 10, 2012
That Would Be Excrement of a Bovine Persuasion
Bullshit is everywhere. To be polite we call it spin but everyone knows it’s bullshit and it’s inescapable. And pointless.
This morning when I went to the end of the road to retrieve the emptied bin, there was a letter attached. The first paragraph is as follows, verbatim including inexplicable capitals.
“In Today’s society, public awareness of the problems of waste is increasing and as your Environmental partner, Oxigen welcomes this as an opportunity to help build a more sustainable society and in turn reduce our carbon footprint. To assist with this, both bins (waste and recycling) will be collected together on a fortnightly basis in dual chamber collection vehicles”
What this should say is as follows;
“An analysis of our accounts has revealed that we are not making as much money as we would like to on your route and need to slash as much cost as we possibly can regardless of the impact on our customers and employees. To assist with this, both bins (waste and recycling) will be collected together on a fortnightly basis in dual chamber collection vehicles”.
Any kind of spin is hard to take but bad spin, absolute shite of the level of that paragraph is baffling. Do they think the children of the house are going to be the only ones reading this? Did it not cross their minds that this masterpiece might find its way into the hands of the odd mentally competent adult?
A senior functionary in this organization signed off on this tripe. It probably went through a few drafts until it was deemed to be sufficiently repugnant and insulting to our intelligence before the approved stamp was produced.
I’ve said it before; there ain’t no troika gonna save us now.
This morning when I went to the end of the road to retrieve the emptied bin, there was a letter attached. The first paragraph is as follows, verbatim including inexplicable capitals.
“In Today’s society, public awareness of the problems of waste is increasing and as your Environmental partner, Oxigen welcomes this as an opportunity to help build a more sustainable society and in turn reduce our carbon footprint. To assist with this, both bins (waste and recycling) will be collected together on a fortnightly basis in dual chamber collection vehicles”
What this should say is as follows;
“An analysis of our accounts has revealed that we are not making as much money as we would like to on your route and need to slash as much cost as we possibly can regardless of the impact on our customers and employees. To assist with this, both bins (waste and recycling) will be collected together on a fortnightly basis in dual chamber collection vehicles”.
Any kind of spin is hard to take but bad spin, absolute shite of the level of that paragraph is baffling. Do they think the children of the house are going to be the only ones reading this? Did it not cross their minds that this masterpiece might find its way into the hands of the odd mentally competent adult?
A senior functionary in this organization signed off on this tripe. It probably went through a few drafts until it was deemed to be sufficiently repugnant and insulting to our intelligence before the approved stamp was produced.
I’ve said it before; there ain’t no troika gonna save us now.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The Late Late
The superfluousness of The Late Late Show has been pointed out by practically everybody recently. But it was novel to see Tubridy and the show’s very own producers underline its irrelevance on the series premiere last night.
Straight out of the blocks came our Olympic boxing team in full training regalia, medals around necks. And for the next toe curling twenty minutes Tubridy tried to re light that fire, tried to corral a horse that had bolted a month ago.
There are some out there who probably think he made a decent fist of it. It is for these that The Late Late Show is allowed to trundle on.
There are some who think it was pointless trying to rekindle the buzz in the first place, who were appalled to see the great Ross Noble go down like a lead balloon while a piss poor medley from a pride of Eurovisionites was greeted with demented hysteria. It is for these that The Late Late Show should be given a lethal injection.
It’s the humane thing to do.
Straight out of the blocks came our Olympic boxing team in full training regalia, medals around necks. And for the next toe curling twenty minutes Tubridy tried to re light that fire, tried to corral a horse that had bolted a month ago.
There are some out there who probably think he made a decent fist of it. It is for these that The Late Late Show is allowed to trundle on.
There are some who think it was pointless trying to rekindle the buzz in the first place, who were appalled to see the great Ross Noble go down like a lead balloon while a piss poor medley from a pride of Eurovisionites was greeted with demented hysteria. It is for these that The Late Late Show should be given a lethal injection.
It’s the humane thing to do.
Friday, September 7, 2012
X. Rated.
Anything of value is predicated on a good idea. We have talked before about the toxic culture of the X Factor. The X Factor is supposedly about discovering talent. But discovering talent and discovering someone who will do exactly what you tell them to do are very different things. It is the latter that our friends at the X Factor are interested in.
They have no interest in discovering talent as you or I might recognize it; in the sense of someone having the vision and ideas to deliver something interesting and worthwhile.This is an intrinsic part of what you or I would call talent. But what the X Factor is trying to unearth is the opposite of this, the opposite of talent. What they are trying to unearth is a meek (X Factor translation “ambitious”) personality with a voice who will never disagree with them on anything.
Nick Cave is one of the most talented people in human history, he wouldn’t get through the first audition. Him and his pesky songwriting genius, and his humour, and his deep artistic convictions and his big ideas. Sure where would he be going.
They have no interest in discovering talent as you or I might recognize it; in the sense of someone having the vision and ideas to deliver something interesting and worthwhile.This is an intrinsic part of what you or I would call talent. But what the X Factor is trying to unearth is the opposite of this, the opposite of talent. What they are trying to unearth is a meek (X Factor translation “ambitious”) personality with a voice who will never disagree with them on anything.
Nick Cave is one of the most talented people in human history, he wouldn’t get through the first audition. Him and his pesky songwriting genius, and his humour, and his deep artistic convictions and his big ideas. Sure where would he be going.
Polithicks
It used to be that an engagement with politics was the sign of an alert, active mind, of a certain type of intelligence. But now, after all that we’ve seen, if you’re still reading editorials, if you’re still reading your Marc Colemans or your Fionnan Sheehans or your John Drennans and if you’re still posting comments on thejournal.ie then I’m sorry to say that you are a bona fide eejit.
On the radio the other day Pat Leahy said that it will be interesting to see the opinion polls around the time of the upcoming local elections. Yes Pat it will be interesting. To four people; yourself, John Drennan, Marc Coleman and Fionnan Sheehan. The people whose livelihoods depend upon the propagation of this turgid shite.
The rest of us will be too busy with season three of The Walking Dead, season five of Breaking Bad, the Premier League, Champions League, Europa League, Magners League and Heineken Cup. Amongst other things.
On the radio the other day Pat Leahy said that it will be interesting to see the opinion polls around the time of the upcoming local elections. Yes Pat it will be interesting. To four people; yourself, John Drennan, Marc Coleman and Fionnan Sheehan. The people whose livelihoods depend upon the propagation of this turgid shite.
The rest of us will be too busy with season three of The Walking Dead, season five of Breaking Bad, the Premier League, Champions League, Europa League, Magners League and Heineken Cup. Amongst other things.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Criminal Careers
Oh RTE and their little
procedural idiosyncrasies, especially when it comes to courts coverage. We
have spoken here before about the phenomenon RTE created whereby the victim of
a crime can only be named “locally”. Slotting in alongside that one is the
insistence on giving us the occupation of the individual in the dock. The
defendant is invariably unemployed when violence is involved. It is deemed important that we know this, probably to help us develop a more rounded
impression of the squalor that attends this person’s existence.
Ronan Collins
Ronan Collins played Crocodile Shoes by Jimmy Nail on his lunchtime Radio 1 show the other day. At the end of the song he referred to
various collaborators Nail has had over the years. He mentioned Paddy McAloon.
This is why despite some of the extremely dodgy stuff he plays Ronan Collins is still one of the good guys. Why does someone who has
heard of and is familiar with the body of work of Paddy McAloon have to give
up a full five minutes of his already short daily show to allow (a) Joe Duffy to summarise the storm of hysterical bullshit he expects to whip up in the day’s Liveline and (b) the news to be read in Irish for the four listeners out there who might
be able to distinguish it from Latvian. Time to put the foot down Ronan,
you’re better than that.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Tenacious D
Sit back and enjoy El Presidente emptying both barrels into right wing arsehole Michael Graham. I can't imagine Sean Gallagher doing this, can you?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5OWRRJh-PI&feature=player_embedded
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5OWRRJh-PI&feature=player_embedded
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Rear To The Ground
There was an election recently in this country with a voter turnout in places of around 40 %. It was still the only story covered for a week.
The thinking behind this presumably goes something like this – the public placed on record their lack of interest by not bothering to show up to vote but we’re still going to lead with it for several days in case of a mass, miraculous, unprecedented simultaneous change of heart.
To which we say; good luck with that.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Welcome Home
We are just back from two weeks in London with our four children. We all had a great time, there were no incidents or issues to speak of, apart from one late train at Waterloo everything went swimmingly.
We got the ferry back to Dublin. In the arrivals hall the baggage carousel was broken. Outside the terminal there were absolutely no public transport links to the city or anywhere for that matter. There was however no shortage of surly taxi drivers with their painted on “come here till I put the saddle on you” sneers lying intimidatingly up against their vehicles. There was one privately operated bus to Connolly manned by a fella who didn’t know the way to anywhere that was not on his memorized route and could not advise any of the confused tourists about onward travel. There was no information or even basic signage that might have assisted an anxious first time visitor to the country.
At the Luas station in Connolly we were greeted by a dozen or so junkies on a bench intimidating passers by. Beginning at the Four Courts stop the entire carriage was treated to two of Fatima Mansions’ finest teenage progeny racially abusing and threatening a Spanish chap who brushed off them accidentally as the train jerked to a stop at the station. The onward bus, only coming only from the airport was fifteen minutes late at the Red Cow.
It can’t possibly be reasoned or extrapolated from this freakish sequence of minor incidents that Ireland is a shithole, but Jaysus it was quite startling.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Running
A run takes up a fair chunk of time. It takes me about fifty minutes to run six miles but the preamble; the forraging for suitable socks, locking up the dogs etc. takes at least that again. Then you have the mandatory basking in the smug glow of your accomplishment when you return, striding back and forth, stretching, groaning. That's directly proportionate to the distance you've covered and is not to be rushed. Only when you've wrung all you can out of that can you contemplate heading for the shower.
It's a big job all told, that's probably why most people don't bother their arse.
It's a big job all told, that's probably why most people don't bother their arse.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Kilkenny
Kilkenny Arts Festival line up finalised. Check it out here http://www.kilkennyarts.ie/
It's consoling to think that there is still a functioning real world out there, beyond the unrelenting torrent of bullshit on re engineering collateralised debt obligations and fiscal compacts. A world populated by people who can conceive and stage events as good as this, where political correspondents fear to tread.
It's consoling to think that there is still a functioning real world out there, beyond the unrelenting torrent of bullshit on re engineering collateralised debt obligations and fiscal compacts. A world populated by people who can conceive and stage events as good as this, where political correspondents fear to tread.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Let's Talk About Backfiring
I think the green lights on taxis in Dublin are a great idea, it’s easier than ever to avoid the Irish ones.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Van Diesel Land
And of course the solution to the traveller problem is obvious and simple but you won’t hear it floated at any official level. In fact it is precisely because of its obviousness and simplicity that it will never be mentioned at an official level.
A traveller colony. Simple as that. Take any one of those uninhabited islands off the west coast and deploy it as a traveller colony. Round them all up and airlift them over.
The freedom to indulge their cultural pursuits seems to be a big aspiration for them so I’m sure they would be only delighted to have their own territory in which to happily ride their cousins, shite in buckets, disfigure the landscape, abuse animals and assault each other with gardening tools.
It’s a win win. The travellers get the sovereignty they apparently crave, the freedom in which to inculcate their children in violence and criminality and the rest of us never have to see, hear or read about them ever again. I don’t see a flaw.
We could even give the place a name (Bridie’s Vineyard), a flag (a black silhouette of a piebald dying of exhaustion over a green background), a national anthem (Blood, Sweat & Wars), and a unit of currency (the Odd) in which to sell laundered fuel to each other.
Not to blow my own trumpet or anything but this is a great idea. Call your TD, get the wheels in motion.
A traveller colony. Simple as that. Take any one of those uninhabited islands off the west coast and deploy it as a traveller colony. Round them all up and airlift them over.
The freedom to indulge their cultural pursuits seems to be a big aspiration for them so I’m sure they would be only delighted to have their own territory in which to happily ride their cousins, shite in buckets, disfigure the landscape, abuse animals and assault each other with gardening tools.
It’s a win win. The travellers get the sovereignty they apparently crave, the freedom in which to inculcate their children in violence and criminality and the rest of us never have to see, hear or read about them ever again. I don’t see a flaw.
We could even give the place a name (Bridie’s Vineyard), a flag (a black silhouette of a piebald dying of exhaustion over a green background), a national anthem (Blood, Sweat & Wars), and a unit of currency (the Odd) in which to sell laundered fuel to each other.
Not to blow my own trumpet or anything but this is a great idea. Call your TD, get the wheels in motion.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Lights, Camera, Transaction
If you manage to buy something in Xtra Vision you will receive a receipt with the message “Your transaction was successful” printed on it. The recent transaction wherein my eight year old used a gift card to buy himself a few DVDs was successful. What a relief. I couldn’t begin to quantify the anxiety and stress I felt as we approached the cashier.
What happens if the transaction is not a success? Do they just shake their head mournfully at me and point to the door, do they hand me back a receipt with “Your transaction was a failure” written on it and let that do the talking. Or do two square headed Eastern European gents emerge from behind the counter to flank and escort me out in case I dispute the verdict and decide to make a scene?
Or maybe these messages are more to do with the cultural rather than the commercial aspect of the purchase. Am I more likely to obtain the coveted successful verdict buying something like Three Colours Blue, and am doomed to failure as I head to the counter clutching a copy of The Adjustment Bureau. It might be the case.
I was in Xtra Vision one day a few years ago attempting to buy the film Year One with Jack Black for my six year old. The chap behind the counter needed to be cajoled into letting me buy it as he insisted on reassuring me how bad it was. Cultural stewardship was important to this lad, his sole motivation it seemed. Maybe his star has risen, he’s now running Xtra Vision and these messages are his idea.
He’s on a one man mission to protect us from Drew Barrymore. I suppose it’s possible.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Affirmative
I've just watched The Way. You haven't seen a feelgood movie till you've seen this baby. I'm warm, fuzzy and visible from Pluto. Excuse me while I get a beard started.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Conceptual Ceiling
In a Sotheby’s auction in September 2008 Damien Hirst sold £111 million worth of his work. This is ten times more than the previous record for work by a single artist. Opinion is sharply divided on Damien Hirst and his place in the pantheon of significant artists. But if the primary function of art is to illuminate, to chronicle a time, a milieu, a civilization then surely he has no equal.
His work initiated one of the last great, certainly the most celebrated, manifestations of excess milennial wealth. And then the world crumbled. Damien Hirst the artist bookended the days of the fast one with a fast one of his own.
The selling of the art was a greater testament, a greater piece of art than any of the art itself. That's art.
His work initiated one of the last great, certainly the most celebrated, manifestations of excess milennial wealth. And then the world crumbled. Damien Hirst the artist bookended the days of the fast one with a fast one of his own.
The selling of the art was a greater testament, a greater piece of art than any of the art itself. That's art.
Going (Velvet) Underground
In the phenomenon of Banksy the graffiti artist is the neat summation of a conundrum of the media age. Contrary to the famous proclamation, fifteen minutes of anonymity is now the aspiration for many. In the case of Banksy the irony is that the longer his anonymity perseveres the more famous he as an entity becomes.
I don’t think even Warhol had a soundbite to cover that one.
I don’t think even Warhol had a soundbite to cover that one.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday As Gaeilge = Dé Luain
In Britain, where Eastenders is broadcast at 7.30pm every weekday evening, they wonder why anti social behaviour is such a huge problem.
Organic shrapnel is the phrase that someone in the US Military decided upon to describe when a bomb blast embeds pieces of one person into another person.
On Liveline a woman said “I would reluctantly send my daughter to the Educate Together School but I am a Catholic. I don’t go to mass every week religiously but I do go”. And she wasn’t even trying.
Jedward are performance artists. They should move to New York to get the recognition they deserve. They should not be performing at the National Sheep Shearing Championships because it is just plain wrong.
Putting precocious kids and people with Northside Dublin accents into radio and TV ads is still hilarious. Puppets on RTE sketch comedy shows? Same story. Fuckin' priceless. Never gets old.
Unexpected item in the bagging area; Samuel L. Jackson.
Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Boating In Naas.
You will be pleasantly surprised by Kilkenny.
Essentially is the new basically.
Organic shrapnel is the phrase that someone in the US Military decided upon to describe when a bomb blast embeds pieces of one person into another person.
On Liveline a woman said “I would reluctantly send my daughter to the Educate Together School but I am a Catholic. I don’t go to mass every week religiously but I do go”. And she wasn’t even trying.
Jedward are performance artists. They should move to New York to get the recognition they deserve. They should not be performing at the National Sheep Shearing Championships because it is just plain wrong.
Putting precocious kids and people with Northside Dublin accents into radio and TV ads is still hilarious. Puppets on RTE sketch comedy shows? Same story. Fuckin' priceless. Never gets old.
Unexpected item in the bagging area; Samuel L. Jackson.
Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Boating In Naas.
You will be pleasantly surprised by Kilkenny.
Essentially is the new basically.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Mine's A Gallon
It’s the eve of St. Patrick’s Day. An analyst on the radio today commented that we, as a people, don’t seem to be able to shake off the boozy image abroad.
Well I’ll tell you why that is shall I? Because we’re not trying to, we’re actively promoting and propagating it.
It’s all we have and we’re hanging on for dear life.
Well I’ll tell you why that is shall I? Because we’re not trying to, we’re actively promoting and propagating it.
It’s all we have and we’re hanging on for dear life.
Inappropriate Language
A lengthy and complex form arrived the other day from the HSE. It contained information relating to vaccination programmes for the kids. Bizarrely though there were two versions of the form – one in English which I, like everyone else, read and one in Irish which I, like everyone else, threw in the bin.
It’s interesting to ponder the grim reality of what’s happening here; Special Needs Assistants are being shelved to allow this bullshit to continue.
Does the troika have any jurisdiction over this fuckin’ racket? After all these years a quiet word from our friends could be all that's needed. The potentially delicious irony of it being a German to finally knock it on the head is admittedly a nice bonus.
Comedy gold there baby.
It’s interesting to ponder the grim reality of what’s happening here; Special Needs Assistants are being shelved to allow this bullshit to continue.
Does the troika have any jurisdiction over this fuckin’ racket? After all these years a quiet word from our friends could be all that's needed. The potentially delicious irony of it being a German to finally knock it on the head is admittedly a nice bonus.
Comedy gold there baby.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
No Joan Unturned
Joan Collins is busy. She was in London the other day to announce that women over fifty should not wear denim. Presumably from there she had to go to New York to similarly decree that the mature woman should not be wearing jeans and then onwards to Los Angeles to proclaim that there are certain youthful clothes which women of a certain age should not contemplate.
I’m not that well versed in the itinerary of your typical denim declaration tour but, based on the U2 model, I am assuming that at that point Joan would have had to resume the European leg taking in, at the very least, Paris and Milan.
Which is all great stuff. But you would have to wonder. About the only gainful thing I've seen Joan Collins do in thirty years is a Snickers TV advertisement. Are Snickers bankrolling the denim tour? Is there an inversely proportionate relationship between denim and Snickers sales and Joan has been tasked with surreptitiously driving down the former in order to boost the latter?
That must be it.
I’m not that well versed in the itinerary of your typical denim declaration tour but, based on the U2 model, I am assuming that at that point Joan would have had to resume the European leg taking in, at the very least, Paris and Milan.
Which is all great stuff. But you would have to wonder. About the only gainful thing I've seen Joan Collins do in thirty years is a Snickers TV advertisement. Are Snickers bankrolling the denim tour? Is there an inversely proportionate relationship between denim and Snickers sales and Joan has been tasked with surreptitiously driving down the former in order to boost the latter?
That must be it.
Quid Pro Quo
David Norris used his Senate position to mouth off about the questionable morality depicted in the TV3 programme Tallafornia. I wonder could we get a cast member from Tallafornia to return the favour and go on air to mouth off about the questionable morality of a Senator looting half a million from the State over a sixteen year period on the back of some wafer thin disability yarn.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Cén Fáth? FFS
Last year, amidst all the indecipherable pre election noise about senior bondholders, collateralized debt obligations, bank guarantees, reputational damage etc. there arrived one, solitary soundbite which grabbed the attention and raised the hopes of every right thinking person in the country.
One tiny morsel of sense at the banquet of bullshit. “Irish will no longer be compulsory for the Leaving Cert.” Oh how we rejoiced, the tyranny was finally coming to an end, forty years too late but ending nonetheless. Parents and kids up and down the country samba danced together in the streets – it was a Rio beach party, Mardi Gras and Lollapalooza combined. God almighty we’re free at last.
So now fifteen months later how are the plans progressing? They’re not. WTF. Enda? Ruaidhri? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, you’ve been busy, and maybe you just haven’t got to it yet. But you better.
One tiny morsel of sense at the banquet of bullshit. “Irish will no longer be compulsory for the Leaving Cert.” Oh how we rejoiced, the tyranny was finally coming to an end, forty years too late but ending nonetheless. Parents and kids up and down the country samba danced together in the streets – it was a Rio beach party, Mardi Gras and Lollapalooza combined. God almighty we’re free at last.
So now fifteen months later how are the plans progressing? They’re not. WTF. Enda? Ruaidhri? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, you’ve been busy, and maybe you just haven’t got to it yet. But you better.
Steady As We Go
I have to admit I shared in the hysteria last week over the numbers who attended the working abroad expo at the RDS. Seemingly 12 000 people showed up over the two days. Joe Duffy, George Hook, Matt Cooper et al were all “astounded” by the numbers. Exactly lads, where the fuck were the other 438 000?
Do The Math
Could our broadcast media maybe get together and organize some grinds for themselves on figuring out the difference between a million and a billion. It shouldn’t really be that hard but evidently it is.
Whose Life
I noticed a competition in the Sunday Independent’s Life magazine last week to win “a once in a lifetime trip to New Zealand.” You don’t know me.
I’m a hedge fund manager, I go on long haul trips at the drop of a hat anytime I like. I could spend the entire summer in Barbados if I fancied it; a holiday in New Zealand means nothing to me.
I left school at fourteen, I’ve barely heard of New Zealand. I have no interest in ever setting foot outside Clondalkin. I’d swap the trip for new kit for our soccer club.
I’ve never had a job, it’s eleven o' clock on a Tuesday morning and I’m on the couch watching Jeremy Kyle in my underpants, drunk. I couldn't be arsed.
Trip of a lifetime? How the fuck would you know?
I’m a hedge fund manager, I go on long haul trips at the drop of a hat anytime I like. I could spend the entire summer in Barbados if I fancied it; a holiday in New Zealand means nothing to me.
I left school at fourteen, I’ve barely heard of New Zealand. I have no interest in ever setting foot outside Clondalkin. I’d swap the trip for new kit for our soccer club.
I’ve never had a job, it’s eleven o' clock on a Tuesday morning and I’m on the couch watching Jeremy Kyle in my underpants, drunk. I couldn't be arsed.
Trip of a lifetime? How the fuck would you know?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Recommended
I watched a documentary tonight on the recent history of western civilization. It was meticulous, lively, ambitious, humorous, irreverent and, through its inspired use of animation, broad in appeal. It's entitled “Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs” and is available in the Kids section of your local video rental outlet.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Critical Morass
And then of course you’ll always get the film reviewer or critic who loves nothing more than to fawn over a “performance”. Glenn Close is incredible, Philip Seymour Hoffman is unbelievable, Sean Penn gives a stunning performance. It salvages the film.
A top level movie star giving a convincing performance is the minimum you would expect. That’s a given. I fail to understand how a performance can save a poor film. The synthesis of character, plot, pacing, mood, dialogue, photography etc. make a film good or bad.
You wouldn’t go to see a band you thought were shit because it contained one accomplished musician; “ Now these lads are fuckin’ dire but keep your ears peeled for the drummer, he always gives a stunning performance”
A top level movie star giving a convincing performance is the minimum you would expect. That’s a given. I fail to understand how a performance can save a poor film. The synthesis of character, plot, pacing, mood, dialogue, photography etc. make a film good or bad.
You wouldn’t go to see a band you thought were shit because it contained one accomplished musician; “ Now these lads are fuckin’ dire but keep your ears peeled for the drummer, he always gives a stunning performance”
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Just One Letter, That's All It Took
Friday on The Late Late Show a woman (Camille O’ Sullivan?) sang Nick Cave’s The Ship Song. The song contains the line “come loose your dogs upon me”. It is a great line and a great example of the songwriting genius of Nick Cave, ye olde English deployment of the word loose as a verb effortlessly gives the whole song a rich tone and historical context.
But our friend on The Late Late Show didn’t like this line so she sang “come lose your dogs upon me”. Which is not wrong, it is spectacularly wrong. What happened here? Is this her own “interpretation”, did she think “lose” works better than “loose”, or did she mistakenly think Nick Cave sang “lose” on the original version? Giving her a large benefit of the doubt and presuming it was the latter was there nobody around during the rehearsal and preparation of the song to correct it, were the definitive lyrics not sourced to be consulted and checked?
Or are we looking at a possible third scenario too awful to contemplate; that the singer assumed that the audience would not understand the word “loose” in this context, that they would think it was a mistake and so it was decided to change the word to “lose” to make it more readily comprehensible to the audience. I wonder how Nick Cave would feel about having his work butchered and misrepresented in this way. To have a word so pivotal to the theme and impact of the song discarded in favour of a thoroughly meaningless one. The slippery slope indeed.
These things matter, the details matter. Ryan Tubridy in his intro or post performance summing up failed to make any mention of Nick Cave by the way. He has probably never heard of him. He could tell you everything there is to know about Michael Bublé though.
There ain’t no fuckin troika gonna save us now.
But our friend on The Late Late Show didn’t like this line so she sang “come lose your dogs upon me”. Which is not wrong, it is spectacularly wrong. What happened here? Is this her own “interpretation”, did she think “lose” works better than “loose”, or did she mistakenly think Nick Cave sang “lose” on the original version? Giving her a large benefit of the doubt and presuming it was the latter was there nobody around during the rehearsal and preparation of the song to correct it, were the definitive lyrics not sourced to be consulted and checked?
Or are we looking at a possible third scenario too awful to contemplate; that the singer assumed that the audience would not understand the word “loose” in this context, that they would think it was a mistake and so it was decided to change the word to “lose” to make it more readily comprehensible to the audience. I wonder how Nick Cave would feel about having his work butchered and misrepresented in this way. To have a word so pivotal to the theme and impact of the song discarded in favour of a thoroughly meaningless one. The slippery slope indeed.
These things matter, the details matter. Ryan Tubridy in his intro or post performance summing up failed to make any mention of Nick Cave by the way. He has probably never heard of him. He could tell you everything there is to know about Michael Bublé though.
There ain’t no fuckin troika gonna save us now.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Smoke Alarm
When giving up smoking it is helpful to conjure up an image every time you feel tempted. It is the marketing meeting – the smug, suited corporate types with their white boards and their flip charts analyzing the demographics. And there you are, the centerpiece of the presentation, the schmuck who got hooked early and has been an unwavering customer ever since. The poster child, the loyal subject, the star of the show.
You don’t like these marketing types and their heathen gibberish. You have more going for you than they have – you know more about music, you have read more books, you have travelled more, you are a more rounded and decent person. You are their moral and intellectual superior and yet there they are chortling away at your expense in Meeting Room B.
Keep the image close, because if this doesn’t stop you nothing will.
You don’t like these marketing types and their heathen gibberish. You have more going for you than they have – you know more about music, you have read more books, you have travelled more, you are a more rounded and decent person. You are their moral and intellectual superior and yet there they are chortling away at your expense in Meeting Room B.
Keep the image close, because if this doesn’t stop you nothing will.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Emigration
All together now - emigration is bad, no good can ever come of emigration, everything about emigration is dreadful and detrimental. This is the narrative that our media have decided upon on our behalf. Any questioning of this definitive incontestable truth will be viewed in a very dim light.
It has been decided for us that we are not interested in hearing about the possible positive aspects of emigration. The enhancing of life experience, the broadening of cultural reference points, the opportunities to travel. It has been decided that our citizens would be diminished beyond repair by exposure to any cultural stimuli outside Celebrity Banisteoir, Operation Transformation or Don’t Tell the Bride.
You remember a few years ago when we were strutting around the place telling each other how much we loved tofu and Balinese hot stone therapy? Well all the positives from that era about having a global perspective have morphed into negatives. Now to express a fondness for anything beyond gazing into a slurry pit in Drumshanbo or watching Killinaskully on a loop is to commit high treason. Michael Noonan just found this out.
There was a picture of a woman on the paper yesterday with a mournful look holding aloft a photo of her son and daughter. At first glance I assumed it was some horrific fatal traffic accident but it turns out the kids have just moved to New York. You know the New York where we could all go for weekend frock buying trips there a few years ago. It’s an evil fuckin’ place altogether now evidently. It’s got nothing to offer, you’ll never be seen again and you’ll lose track of what’s happening on Fair City. Óchón, óchón.
It has been decided for us that we are not interested in hearing about the possible positive aspects of emigration. The enhancing of life experience, the broadening of cultural reference points, the opportunities to travel. It has been decided that our citizens would be diminished beyond repair by exposure to any cultural stimuli outside Celebrity Banisteoir, Operation Transformation or Don’t Tell the Bride.
You remember a few years ago when we were strutting around the place telling each other how much we loved tofu and Balinese hot stone therapy? Well all the positives from that era about having a global perspective have morphed into negatives. Now to express a fondness for anything beyond gazing into a slurry pit in Drumshanbo or watching Killinaskully on a loop is to commit high treason. Michael Noonan just found this out.
There was a picture of a woman on the paper yesterday with a mournful look holding aloft a photo of her son and daughter. At first glance I assumed it was some horrific fatal traffic accident but it turns out the kids have just moved to New York. You know the New York where we could all go for weekend frock buying trips there a few years ago. It’s an evil fuckin’ place altogether now evidently. It’s got nothing to offer, you’ll never be seen again and you’ll lose track of what’s happening on Fair City. Óchón, óchón.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
January 17th. Later.
It's hard to keep pace with ye olde technology. We decry it as passive communication, as moving us all to a cold, clinical place but we actually can't get enough. We send an e mail rather than make a phone call whenever there’s the option. We embrace any facility whereby we can avoid spontaneous conversation.
These things take hold because there is a massive appetite for them. If nobody wanted to communicate like this all these innovations would just fade away. Think of the three page text that took ten minutes to compose you invariably got recently when a fifteen second call would have got the same job done.
Despite what they might say people will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid talking to people with whom they are not closely acquainted. Friendship, like oil, has reached peak levels. Awkwardness and social ineptitude is where it's at. Just how the geeks who run everything now like it. Never let it be said.
These things take hold because there is a massive appetite for them. If nobody wanted to communicate like this all these innovations would just fade away. Think of the three page text that took ten minutes to compose you invariably got recently when a fifteen second call would have got the same job done.
Despite what they might say people will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid talking to people with whom they are not closely acquainted. Friendship, like oil, has reached peak levels. Awkwardness and social ineptitude is where it's at. Just how the geeks who run everything now like it. Never let it be said.
January 17th 2012
On the radio this morning Simon Coveney said that “last year more than sixteen people were arrested for fuel laundering”. What did Simon Coveney mean by this? Did he mean that seventeen people were arrested or did he mean twelve thousand four hundred and forty two? Or perhaps eighty seven, or six hundred and twelve or one hundred and eleven thousand two hundred and three.
It is not clear. And I thought Simon Coveney was all about transparency.
It is not clear. And I thought Simon Coveney was all about transparency.
Friday, January 13, 2012
January 13th. Friday Incidentally.
Iceland is effortlessly cool. Bjork is from there. Sigur Rós are from there. The accent is beautiful. The landscape is beautiful. The people are beautiful. Their style is unique. The documentary Heiml on Sky Arts last night featured Sigur Rós’ homecoming tour of 2006 and is the most effective promotion of a place I have ever seen. Is there an Irish band that could make an equivalent programme, are there settings as inspiring in this country, are we as cool as the Icelanders? We think we are.
I’ve never been to Iceland but I know now that it’s the greatest place on earth.
I’ve never been to Iceland but I know now that it’s the greatest place on earth.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Later, January 10th 2012
Technology is great. Progress is great. The super duper turbo on my car has shit the bed and is in the process of generating an eight hundred euro repair bill for me over at the mechanic’s. I have a super duper Hotpoint Aquarius dishwasher that refuses to contemplate any delph on the top shelf, let alone clean it. I have a super duper scanner that doesn’t work necessitating frequent trips to the office centre in town to, get this, use their fax machine. (Don’t forget to factor in here the mortification of asking someone for a fax number in 2012, you don't recover from that overnight). On the kids game console you can either have a black and white picture or sound, but you can’t have both. The two year old wedged a video tape in the VHS player (I know, I know) that cannot be extracted. I have a super duper geothermal heating system that does not generate any heat in 40% of my house. The fridge creates, all on its lonesome, a two litre pool of water in the bottom vegetable drawer every three days. I have a super duper motion sensing outside light that I can only turn off by getting up a step ladder and removing the bulb. I can watch something on YouTube as long as I’m within a four foot radius of the modem.(Uncongested broadband Mr. Eircom, are you quite sure?) The screen on my phone disintegrated, I can’t read anything on it and can’t use any of the spare ones in the house because they have all been locked by evil bastard other networks. The baleful machinery Gods are politely requesting that I show them more respect. And I have no choice but to comply.
January 10th 2012
Black Mirror.
Nothing on the telly? Embroidery circle cancelled? Click the link to go to the Channel 4 catch up site and have a look at Black Mirror, Charlie Brooker's frightening three part take on now and the not too distant future.
Nothing on the telly? Embroidery circle cancelled? Click the link to go to the Channel 4 catch up site and have a look at Black Mirror, Charlie Brooker's frightening three part take on now and the not too distant future.
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