So I'm looking through our fairly extensive library of family photographs and begin to notice the number of randoms dotted throughout the collection. Randoms of course being innocent bystanders, entirely unconnected strangers who just happened to be in the shot, in the background mostly, unwittingly captured in the crosshairs.
And you would have to wonder if the randoms know the pivotal role they occupy in the compendium of our collective memory. Because some of these are nice shots, ones you go back to again and again; and with each visit there is the random commanding an ever increasing slice of the spotlight.
In particularly wistful moments you might wonder about their name, where they live, how many kids they might have, what line of work they might be in. Think how nice it would be to let them know how important they have become over the years, how they've soldered themselves to your collective identity, become subsumed within the family mythology, how you've warmed to them indeed look forward to their unchanging, reassuring image.
There is a lot you can deduce from the photo but wouldn’t it be great to get an update. I mean, Jesus what are they doing right now, where are they doing it, what if they’re dead? Not so much closure as full disclosure. Spill, who the hell are you?
It’s a dilemma I have recently begun putting my mind to solving and the result is randomsreunited.com. The owner of the shot posts it and visitors have the opportunity to identify themselves thereby ending years of conjecture and speculation.
The site operates on the same principle as lost dog or cat websites. Post the photo with a few details surrounding the circumstances of the shot and wait for the randoms to come to you. Let’s face it these people are already part of the family so why not bring them in from the cold?
Who knows the possibilities once the ice is broken, you might have more in common than you imagine, after all there’s probably a good reason you were only a few feet away from each other for that landmark moment all those years ago. You probably share the same values and outlook on life.
“Seamus I’d like you to meet Gunther. He got caught in the background of a snap we took in the Louvre one summer and has been staring down at us from the mantelpiece for over ten years now till eventually I said to Dympna; feck this I need to know. Turns out he’s even more passionate about preserving the otter’s natural habitat than I am, if that's possible.”
Give it a go, I mean what can possibly go wrong?
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
They're All In Bed, Quick, Stick On The Good Stuff
So here I am on a Wednesday night trying to stay awake for Other Voices, the only decent programme RTE have managed to produce since the Cuban missile crisis.
And just in case too many people might get to bear witness to this fine show they have decided to air it at quarter to midnight on a Wednesday night. Which sounds like the work of some demented fucker until you consider that this is a marked improvement on last year when it was aired simultaneously on a Friday night with Later with Jools Holland on BBC1.
So let's be thankful for that particular small mercy. Baby steps out there in Montrose, don't do anything too rash. You want to drip feed those improvements, the last thing we want is to be swamped with enhancements to our standard of living, snowed under, buried beneath an avalanche of common sense, not knowing which way is up. Spoilt rotten. That would never work.
Of course I soldier on trying to ignore the obvious implication of this scheduling decision; that anyone with a mild interest in live music of any quality is a student, an alcoholic, unemployed, a drug addict or some combination thereof who couldn't possibly need to be out of bed at any point before noon of a Thursday.
Or maybe that's it; an elaborate conspiracy to keep the dissidents exactly where they want them; in the scratcher out of harm's way while they run Celebrity Come Dine With Me, Operation Transformation and Killinafuckinskully on a loop in prime time and I not noticing a thing over in the corner getting myself jacked up on speed to be able to stay up and watch Mad Men. Bastards.
And just in case too many people might get to bear witness to this fine show they have decided to air it at quarter to midnight on a Wednesday night. Which sounds like the work of some demented fucker until you consider that this is a marked improvement on last year when it was aired simultaneously on a Friday night with Later with Jools Holland on BBC1.
So let's be thankful for that particular small mercy. Baby steps out there in Montrose, don't do anything too rash. You want to drip feed those improvements, the last thing we want is to be swamped with enhancements to our standard of living, snowed under, buried beneath an avalanche of common sense, not knowing which way is up. Spoilt rotten. That would never work.
Of course I soldier on trying to ignore the obvious implication of this scheduling decision; that anyone with a mild interest in live music of any quality is a student, an alcoholic, unemployed, a drug addict or some combination thereof who couldn't possibly need to be out of bed at any point before noon of a Thursday.
Or maybe that's it; an elaborate conspiracy to keep the dissidents exactly where they want them; in the scratcher out of harm's way while they run Celebrity Come Dine With Me, Operation Transformation and Killinafuckinskully on a loop in prime time and I not noticing a thing over in the corner getting myself jacked up on speed to be able to stay up and watch Mad Men. Bastards.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Something About Mary
Mary Kennedy was on RTE 2FM the other morning outlining her stance on the Irish language.
She stated that “there is great love and affection for the language amongst the general population”. Eleven seconds later she said that “if it wasn’t compulsory in schools it would die”.
The sound that was clearly discernible at that point was that of Ryan Tubridy steadying himself against some furniture in the studio.
Tubridy, a man who has been up close and personal with some astonishing levels of bullshit in his time needed a moment to steady the ship in the wake of such a declaration.
And I hoped that once he regained his composure that Tubridy was going to reel Mary in on this. But alas it did not happen; evidently Tubridy declared inwardly that, on this Wednesday when I am in good form and enjoying my life, I will not even go there.
“There is great love and affection for the language amongst the general population….. If it wasn’t compulsory in schools it would die”.
Which all begs the question; with advocates like this who needs opponents?
She stated that “there is great love and affection for the language amongst the general population”. Eleven seconds later she said that “if it wasn’t compulsory in schools it would die”.
The sound that was clearly discernible at that point was that of Ryan Tubridy steadying himself against some furniture in the studio.
Tubridy, a man who has been up close and personal with some astonishing levels of bullshit in his time needed a moment to steady the ship in the wake of such a declaration.
And I hoped that once he regained his composure that Tubridy was going to reel Mary in on this. But alas it did not happen; evidently Tubridy declared inwardly that, on this Wednesday when I am in good form and enjoying my life, I will not even go there.
“There is great love and affection for the language amongst the general population….. If it wasn’t compulsory in schools it would die”.
Which all begs the question; with advocates like this who needs opponents?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Jack Of All Tirades
In the same interview Jack went on to state that a Fine Gael government would be "a recipe for disaster" presumably for the "working people" or "members" he represents.
For no worker in this country who is not "represented" (or whipped up into a periodic paranoid frenzy) by the omnipotent Jack can lay claim to the title "working person".
The "working people" are Jack's people. Or Jack's peeps as they might say in certain circles.
No Jack, thank YOU.
For no worker in this country who is not "represented" (or whipped up into a periodic paranoid frenzy) by the omnipotent Jack can lay claim to the title "working person".
The "working people" are Jack's people. Or Jack's peeps as they might say in certain circles.
No Jack, thank YOU.
Ah Jack, We've Been Expecting You
Today on the radio just before he told his members to vote for Labour Jack O'Connor announced that he would not dream of telling his members who to vote for. Good man Jack.
I wonder would he dream of telling his members in the primary school up the road here how to make up the additional three weeks holidays they got there before Christmas when it turned a bit Wintry. Strangely Jack was nowhere to be found in December.
Good man Jack, off the radar for a while there but always worth waiting for.
I wonder would he dream of telling his members in the primary school up the road here how to make up the additional three weeks holidays they got there before Christmas when it turned a bit Wintry. Strangely Jack was nowhere to be found in December.
Good man Jack, off the radar for a while there but always worth waiting for.
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