| Monday, May 31, 2004 |
 | US Army still not doing great on handling gay men and lesbians. Busy handling genitalia of prisoners. But not in a gay way.
This is obviously not good - given the need for warm bodies to be thrown into Iraq, the US Army needs to make a clear stand on the fact that it really doesn't matter what colour, creed or sexuality they are, as long as they are ready and willing to go into battle with the liberated and grateful people of Iraq. Hang on, I think I missed a bit there. As long as they are ready and willing to go into battle against foreign insurgents and agents of foreign powers in the defence of and arm in arm with the liberated and grateful people of Iraq.
So, there is only one possible solution, if we are to maintain the integrity of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. In future, gay and lesbian servicemen and women will have to conduct their affairs without letting on to the people that tey are in fact gay or lesbian. This is going to be a challenge, not least because the immediately obvious gambit - the Twelfth Night - is contraindicated by the suspicion that cross-dressing may actually be interpreted as a form of telling. So, the options must be either never actually giving your partner any indication of your gender (for which, see my free leaflet Doing it behind their backs - loving without learning), or, which is perhaps riskier but more rewarding, convincing the non-military partner that they are in fact a woman (if they are a man) or a man (if there are a woman). Although physiologically awkward, this should prove vocationally rewarding. Shiny pocket watches and LSD will be available from the quartermaster's stores.
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| It seems that the witch Derren Brown is seeking, in his inimitable dead-flat-voice-of-a-killer way, to conduct a séance using the television.
The fool! The stupid, crazy fool! Has he never seen Ghostwatch? We know how this ends... with Michael Parkinson possessed by a transvestite paedophile killer. With Craig Charles alone in the dark... with Sarah Greene missing, presumed fed. And with Mike Smith desparate, desparate and afraid.
OK, when you put it like that it doesn't sound so bad, admittedly.
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| Tuesday, May 25, 2004 |
| Ouch. You see, this is just cruel. I can't help but feel sorry for Houllier, who has after all failed to make good on a championship-winning potential that Liverpool possiby simply do not have any longer, but this list is pretty damning. The sad thing is that when it works it works - Hyppia and Henchoz both look like excellent signings for the value they have given over the past five years - but others are positively mind-bending, either because of the sum involved for the return (£11m for Heskey? £10m for El-Hadji Diouf? Neither seemed like terrible business then, but now...) or just the sheer quirkiness (Titi Camara?). Also, it reveals that three is the magic number - how many of those signings cost about 3 million?
Possibly the final judgement on the Houllier regime can only be made after the new manager shows what he can do with the players he bought, many of whom should be real assets. It may be that he has assembled a great team that he couldn't manage. Either that or Tranmere Rovers could snap up Milan Baros for a song...
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| Sunday, May 23, 2004 |
| On a lighter note, and from our weird synchronicities division, I was realising only today, possibly inspired by having watched The House Always Wins, about the Sean Connery/Diamonds are Forever "Hi, I'm plenty" exchange, and trying to puzzle over why exactly James Bond should be speculating about the size of this young lady's dad's penis. I know how poor it is that I only just twigged that that was the gag. I thought it was just goofy. Turns out it's a nob gag. And yes, I am a slow child. What of it?
Then, looking at the Dangerous Precedent, I find this. Secret agent mantastic.
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| Sara condemns the vigilante action but stands by the News of the World. She believes their support for Sarah's Law gave her the credibility to walk into meetings with heads of departments, government agencies and powerful politicians such as David Blunkett and Jack Straw.
One always feels sort of terrible disagreeing with people who have clearly endured horrors that you have no handle on. However, at the same time it is not, I suspect, only my revulsion at the idea of the News of the World providing moral authority that gave me the shivers at this part of Barbara Ellen's interview here. I think in part it is the idea that one can condemn vigilantism while supporting a policy of illegally revealing a list of names the only possible purpose of which must be to incite illegal actions - what does the knowledge of the presence of a convicted paedophile allow a parent legally to do, after all? Further, Ellen missed the opportunity actually to talk about the potential effectiveness of a "Sarah's Law", and thus its utility as a memorial. The key plank of the demands - that "it is every parent's right to have controlled access to information about individuals in their neighbourhood, including convicted child sex offenders who may pose a risk to their child" - is startlingly vague, and I just don't see how that information could be the basis of very much except vigilantism.
If an offender seems in the opinion of a panel of experts likely to reoffend, it strikes me that there is a case for ensuring that they do not leave a controlled environment, given what is at stake. But to risk that offenders, once released, will become more likely to remove themselves from their agreed locations, support services and identities to avoid a shivving strikes me as unwise. But how do you sit in front of somebody whose own child has suffered so badly and represent that view? I can't blame Barbara Ellen for ducking it. I know I would.
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| Wednesday, May 12, 2004 |
| Having confirmed once and for all that I will never know the touch of another human being with this purchase., I find myself troubled.
You remember the bit in Transformers: the Movie where Optimus Prime turns up and kicks botty, while the soft rock stylings of Stan Bush tell us just how cool Optimus Prime is. As if we needed to be convinced.
Well, the first verse of "The Touch", the Stan Bush in question, goes:
After all is said and done,
You've never walked, you've never won,
You're a winner
Before going on to point out that you're at your best when the going gets tough, and furthermore that, having been put to the test, it has never been enough.
All well and good. Of course, Optimus Prime has both walked and run, but one can forgive a bit of poetic license. Except... That's not even internally consistent, is it? I mean, never walking and never running doesn't make you a winner. It makes you a jogger. In certain situations, like the hundred metres, it actually makes you a loser.
And even a jogger would surely have to walk sometimes (while accelerating to jogging speed, or decelerating to sleeping sleep), and also run (when late for things). So, on reflection, Stan Bush should be singing:
After all is said and done,
You've never walked, you've never run,
You're an armchair.
Or something to that effect. Which would be just prime...
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| Sunday, May 09, 2004 |
| More delicious B3ta goodness from Rob Manuel - Hey Hey 16k. Being of the same generation, this obviously resonated with me enormously, particularly the background screen of various obscene words being typed into the Hobbit.
I do not understand the word "Bollocks".
I do not understand what a the stupid buggering parser is.
Thorin does not know how to suck my dog, you cretinous won't give me a piggyback how come they let you in and out of the goblins' dungeon like a sodding parole officer gold-about-singing shitbread prizewinner.
Ah, the memories. In these days of Cassie Clare and Elijah Wood, I imagine that tapping obscene things into the Hobbit means something very different.
We can fix this. But not even MacGuyver could fix the practitioners of live-action Tetris.
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| Well, what can I say? It's been a testing time...
It has also been a time of surprisingly many birthdays, at one of which I was told the dark secret of Bakewell tarts. Or should I say... Bakewell puddings
Oh yes.
You are, of course, familiar with the Bakewell tart. For those reading in the Americas and other places untouched by milky tea and Anglicanism, the Bakewell tart is, in its traditional form, round, small and topped with white icing, with a cherry on top. The interior is some form of jam. Look, I don't know. Mr. Kipling makes this shit, I don't. Why would I know what you put in a Bakewell tart? Do I look like Nigella Lawson? Am I your domestic goddess? I don't think so... Ultimately, all you need to know is that they're like non-seasonal mince pies.
Anyway. The Bakewell tart is known to all right-thinking people as the Bakewell tart. Except for the good people of Bakewell itself. To them, it is and shall ever be the Bakewell pudding. Seriously. My interlocutor had proof.
Apparently, the Bakewell pudding shop is fantastic. It has one entire side of its building devoted to selling its wares.
"Fifty different varieties?" I inquired.
"One variety," came the response, "three different sizes.
There's something just utterly fabulous about that.
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