Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - Funniest video of the World Cup

This wins it hands down. The guys who put this together even came up with two versions. This is the more up to date version. You can find the originals here: http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_football/2367907.html

Things I Like - Mediamonkey

In general I have always been fairly late to the party where digital music is concerned. In high school, I only had one disc of music that had been lent to me by a friend, and I played it on the most basic version of winamp there was. No different skins, no apps (though I don't think apps really existed then). My stay in digital music purgatory lasted until college, where I discovered the glory that was Napster. Backed by the power of the colleges T1 servers, I went on a music downloading binge. 24/7 that program was running on my laptop. I was still playing it all on winamp, but at least I had some quality music to play. After college I got my first iPod and iTunes has been a constant and often frustrating companion since then. Recently though I have been getting truly fed up with it. The software is bloated, taking up massive amounts of ram and constantly tries to get you download Safari and Mobile Me. You also never truly get rid of the feeling that you are somehow Apple's bitch. The worst aspect of the program however, was how difficult it made sorting, relabeling and adjusting your files. Most of the time, changes had to be made to individual tracks, and when your library is in excess of 5,000 songs and podcasts, that is just unacceptable. So, spurred by the fact that my girlfriend needed a program that would allow her to rebuild her library from her iPod, I searched for a suitable alternative. I found Mediamonkey.

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - Germany vs. England

It is hard to put into words the significance of this match up to those who have never followed international football It is the classic rivalry of the football world. I will try my very best to explain why.

Imagine two nations that are utterly football crazy. The one nation invented the sport and is home to the best professional league on the planet. This nation is extremely proud of its footballing tradition and at having produced some of the best footballers in recent times. However, international greatness has proved frustratingly elusive, having won only one World Cup title so far.

The other nation took the sport invented by the first and married it with the works of Sun Tzu while parring away anything supercilious like flash and style (and fun some would say). While that country's home league may not be the be the best in Europe, internationally the county's team has been one of the most successful, garnering three World Cup titles and more final appearances than any other team save possibly Brazil.

Now imagine the most intense sports rivalry you know of. Think Yankees-Red Sox or Celtics-Lakers. Now multiply it by 40,000, feed it a heady mixture of tequila, schnapps, PCP and meth, dip it in gasoline, set it on fire and point it in the direction of Fallujah circa 2004 and you might approach the level of intensity that surrounds Germany vs England friendly matches.

As with all things, the reason for the intensity of this rivalry can be found in their shared history.

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - ...and now for something completly different...

For the first time on this blog, a genuine moment of Schadenfreude.
*ahem*
MUAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT YOU TOMATO SUCKING, HAIR GEL ABUSING, BITCHY PRIMADONNAS??
THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR KICKING US OUT OF THE TOURNAMENT 4 YEARS AGO IN OUR OWN COUNTRY!!!
THAT'S WHAT YOU GET!
NO MORE FLOPPING AROUND AND CLAIMING YOU HAVE BEEN MURDERED WHEN A DEFENDER LOOKED AT YOU SIDEWAYS!
GO ON GET OUT OR WE'LL BRING ZIDANE BACK FOR A FAREWELL HEADBUTT IN THE NADS!!
SUCK IT LONG AND SUCK IT HARD SPAGHETTI FRESSER!!
GO HOME TO YOUR MAMA! 
Thank You

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - I Love Football

I love football. I love it in a way that I cannot possible love other sports. Don't get me wrong, I love basketball and there is nothing more relaxing a game of baseball in the late summer. But football truly is the beautiful sport. No other sport can have me nervous before the game has even start. Screw biting my nails, I was way past the cuticles for this Germany vs Ghana match, I was chomping on my knuckles. And the match proved to be be worth the name "Preliminary knock out game".

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - Make up

In order to make up for my missing a week of posts I now present you a few pictures of the games:

Irish pub in Frankfurt called Waxy's where I watched the US vs. England match. I have no idea why it was called Waxy's.

The American Flag with which I proudly proclaimed my allegiance. There was an even mix of US and England supporters and the atmosphere was fun and collegial rather than barely contained rage. A nice change of pace from English fans.

Chicken wings! The most American of foods!!

Kilkenny!

Place was packed by the time the match started!

Flips less than glorious World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza - WTF^10??!!

WTF??!!! 9 yellow cards?? Sending off Miroslav Klose for a neglible foul?? Podolski misses a penalty?? No yellow card when a Serbian player basically hugs the German goalie??? The Lakers won the NBA Finals after being down 3-2?? If the US loses against Slovenia I will willing go into exile!

---Addendum----

So the wave of what-the-fuckery continued well into the US-Slovenia match. In a instance of egregiously bad refereeing, the arbitrator of the match ruled our a perfectly legitimate goal that would have assured victory for the Boys in Blue and made their ascension to the next round all but assured. No I am not kidding, look at the tape the only way anyone was offside in that scenario is if the four Slovenian defenders turned out to have been photo-shopped into the picture.

I am still too angry and disappointed to talk about the Germany-Serbia game. Schadenfruede, while thematically appropriate to my blog, will be met with harsh reprisals!

An to all you out there who are reveling in the Celtics loss in Game 7 of the NBA Finals rather than celebrating in a Lakers victory. I have plans for you. Oh yes you know who you are, and now you know I am coming for you. Be afraid!!!

---Additional Addendum----
England vs Algeria, 0-0...really, I am no longer sure what to think. Both England and America will be desperately needing a win in the next go around, and it would seem they both have their work cut out for them. Those games will be the ones to watch.

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza!! - WTF???

Halftime in the Germany vs Serbia game and WTF is happening?? I have never seen a ref so prone to whipping out yellow cards!!
To come to think of it: what has been happening in general with this World Cup? Swiss wins against the contender Spain? Mexico sends France packing 2-0?? Did someone put something in the water??

Short Time Out

I am outta town at the moment, so I don´t have masses amounts fo time to blog,but rest assured, I will be back with comments and pictures regarding the England vs US game, the Germany vs Target Practice match, the North Korean surprise,ths Spanish Inquisition, game 7 of the NBA finals and much more!

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza Part 3

Alrighty then! Now a proper post for yesterdays opener and the France vs. Uruguay game.
So to start out: preparation is everything and in order to commemorate the event we had to have the correct snacks as pictured left. Dried bananas coated with honey for Bafana Bafana and Jalapeno peppers for Mexico. Ok, not sure how close the thing with the dried banabas is, but it was the closest thing to South African snack food we could get a hold of in Germany. The jalapenos went into a guacamole later that evening, so that worked out fine.

Next came the issue of who to support. I have an inherent fondness for the African teams. Ever since 1994, the year where I first started to follow the World Cup seriously, I have always waited for the African teams to truly break out. Too long has the tournament been dominated by European and South American teams. Looking back at the first, second and third placing teams of the past tournaments, the amount of times Brazil and Germany have appeared in those lists, supported by another team from those two regions...well, it's depressing. And this is a Germany fan saying this! It's time for Asia, Africa and the Middle East to step up and make the tournament a true World Cup. No easy games! No continent that is considered to be footballs collection of shortbus occupants! I thought were had it in 2002, when South Korea and Turkey made it to the top four, but since then it has been same old-same old. I am hoping that this will be the year the others break through.

FLips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza! Part 2

Quick Half-time blog for the South Africa vs. Mexico opener: (I'll post more completely after the game)
The match so far has been less than impressive. Bafana Bafana, far from being lifted up by the sound of vuvzelas and 90,000 fans seemed more like they were a bunch of middle-schoolers terrified of asking the girls to dance, while Mexico acted like the high schooler that had to shave twice a day. The only one who really seemed to be awake at the wheel was Itumeleng Kuhne, who saved RSA's fat in two pants-wettingly tense moments. The only other people looking out for the hosts were the line coaches who called a bevy of offside offenses against dos Santos and the rest of the Mexican offense. Then at 42 minutes, it all changed with a corner kick from Tschabalala and it was RSA that suddenly seemed to be possessed of all the energy in possibility. So far though it hasn't been the most impressive display of football I have ever seen. Let's see how the next half is.

Not much better at this point...

Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza! Part 1

As promised I have here a special treat from my friend Ginger (whose excellent travel blog I have linked to) is currently in South Africa and was kind enough to send me this excellent account of Bafana Bafana parade which occured right outside of her window at work. So naturally she needed to take part. I would also like to point out that I am now linked to the blog Posts by Panos. Written by a man infinitely smarter that I and much more educated in the beautiful sport, he is the man to turn to to get excellent analyzes and predictions for this great event. Now please, enjoy.

United We Will Stand Parade for Bafana Bafana

South Africa's national football team has the nickname Bafana Bafana, which means "the boys" in Zulu. The nation has really come together to support their team, who kick off the World Cup this Friday in their opening game against Mexico. It is rumored that Nelson Mandela himself will show up in a yellow and green jersey to give the players an extra boost, and I hope he is able to. Nowhere was this support more obvious than at the "United We Will Stand" parade in honor of the team that was given today around lunchtime and conveniently outside my office. Tens of thousands of people lined the streets of Sandton, cheering, dancing, singing and tooting vigorously on their vuvuzelas. Even from 7am onward, the time I arrived at work, the odd blatt could be heard now and then. From about 11am the noise became constant, and it's 3:30pm as I write this and the crowd shows no sign of dissipating or stopping.

I headed outside at lunchtime in the hopes of taking lots of great photos and catching a glimpse of the team who would be driving by in an open top double-decker bus. The scene was an absolute madhouse in the best way. Almost everyone was wearing a yellow jersey and many corporations in Sandton gave their employees permission to have several hours off to view the parade (not mine, however). As I was walking out of the entrance to Mandela Square by the Michaelangelo Hotel, the crowd swarmed a fancy, black sedan that was trying to get in. I noticed an enormous security guard and police escorts so I immediately pushed my way in there. Who was in the car? R. Kelly! No teenage girls to be seen near him, although he did pop up through the sunroof and wave vigorously to everyone. The crowd was pushing and shoving to get close, but it was very good natured. Most of the people who bumped me or stepped on my foot apologized politely. There was a real mix of people, from office people in suit bottoms to construction workers from the Gautrain station just next door.

As R. Kelly finally passed by, I walked down to the requisite Red Bull truck that was pumping tunes and handing out free drinks to the crowd. People were dancing in the street, tooting their horns and having a great time. I got a lot of really excellent photos, including one of some Mexico fans in giant sombreros and luchador masks. I then climbed up on the truck to get a better view of the crowd. The staff tried to kick me off, but I told them I was press and just wanted to take some photos. They let me stay up there for quite a while, so I might be on Sportscenter as I was definitely filmed during that time!

It was hot and sweaty in the noonday sun, and there was still no sign of the team. West Ave, where I was, supposedly would be closed to traffic, but cars were still making their way through the crowd at a snail's pace. I wanted to be up high so I could get a good picture of the team, and I saw a crew of men in yellow tracksuits sitting on top of the wall outside Nelson Mandela Square. The wall was about 12 feet high. The only way to get up there was to either climb up on a shorter portion and then climb over the people already sitting on there, or get hoisted up by the gentlemen on the wall already. They were willing to try the hoist, so I got a tall stranger next to me to give me a leg up and then the guys on the wall pulled me up. I had to scramble a bit with my feet (really could have used climbing shoes!) but they got me up there eventually! I had a great view of the crowd and it was nice to sit for a while. I'm also glad I wore leggings under my dress or else everyone would have gotten quite a show!

By the time 1:45 rolled around, Bafana Bafana still hadn't showed up so I decided to go back inside as I was on my lunch break and couldn't just drop 3 hours in the middle of the day. I had a lot of photos and had definitely experienced the crowd. To the amazement of my neighbors on the wall, I turned around and dropped off the edge--there was a small ledge about 10 ft off the ground, so I just swung down while holding on to that and landed neatly on the sidewalk. I went back inside and have been able to accomplish little else today as the party is still raging on outside. I am supposed to leave work at 4 and I don't know if I'll be able to get out of the building, it is so crazy out there!

Adieu Turmpalast

Today a Frankfurt institution closes its doors for the last time. The Turmpalast cinema by the Eschersheimer Turm is ending it's 60 year reign of being the first and foremost location to enjoy original version English movies. The cinema first opened it's doors in 1950, amidst the bombed out ruins of the city. Since that time it has remained a cornerstone of the Frankfurt cinema scene, through my parents time and eventually my own. As a teenager who loved to get lost in the stories movies tell, I went there often.
The Turmpalast had about 8-12 rooms, ranging from you standard auditorium size to small little cabinets that could hold no more than a dozen people at most. The theater was very egalitarian in it's movie selection, often showing works that would never be released in Germany or ones that would only appeal to smaller audiences. As one can imagine, over time, the decor began to fade. The seats became noticeably worn, torn sections often patched up with duct tape but it never lost the appeal that you were "going to the movies". There was none of the sleek, coordinated entertain-o-plex plastic feeling that most modern movie theaters have. It may have been old, worn at the edges, the picture a tad grainy and the sound system may have crackled, but whenever I went there I felt like I was once more a 15 year old. The same electric anticipation as the lights dimmed and I left the real world behind for the world that unfolded before me.
I have many fond memories associated with that old cinema, of double features with friends where the second movies was meant to cleanse the palate of the first. Of trying to watch Aliens 4 when suddenly three of our teachers walked in and sat a row ahead of us (of course the only course of action was to offer them popcorn). I watched flicks as immortal as Jackie Brown and as ignoble as Jaw Breakers in those comfortable and worn out seats.
Sadly, the end of the Turmpalast was as banal an event as could be imagined. The old building was not up to modern fire codes and neither the buildings owner nor the company that operated the theater could really be arsed to pony that would be needed for the extensive renovations. Apparently the metropolis cinema across the street will be picking up some of the slack. But it probably won't be showing the diversity of titles that the Turmpalast once did. It certainly will not be able to replicate the feeling of watching a movie in those old and loved auditoriums.

Countdown to the World Cup: T - 4 Days

There are only days left til the start of the greatest sporting event mankind has ever dreamed up and so now it is time to start preparing myself for this festive event. With any luck there will be a few treats to be had, I have a few friends who will be down in South Africa during the tournament and, with the proper amount of bribery, they might be willing to give us first person accounts of the matches that they attend. In addition to that, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I shall be writing about every match that I have the privilege of viewing. Some of them I may write as I watch. I expect these posts to be of lesser quality.
Anyway. Off to the first topic of Flips GLORIOUS World Cup Blog-o-rama Extravaganza!

Is the World Cup 2010 cursed??!!
The thought cracked open my skull and infested my brain yesterday. While I was driving off to do a couple of errands, a news blast came on the radio which announced that English football captain Rio Ferdinand would not playing due to an injured knee and Ivory Coast Football Jesus Drogba had broken his elbow during a test match. The latter news was particularly tragic as The Ivory Coast has been my favorite African football team since 2006 and there had been rumors of them riding the euphoria of the first African World Cup as far as the semi finals. With Drogba more or less out, that dream is shattered. I then cast my mind back to the fact that Germany, (Die Bundeself, Die Mannschaft!!!) had suffered a string of injuries, including Chelsea star and Matt Damon look alike Michael Ballack. A quick search in the internet revealed that several more big names, who for various reasons, would be watching the games on there four meter flat screen LED while their newest concubine services them rigirously.

What follows is a list of the fallen:
David Beckham (ok, not much of a surprise)
Luca Toni
Ronaldinho (fallen due to Coach displeasure)
Hans Sarpai
Fabio Grosso (once lauded hero of Italy, now booted for being crap)
Ruud van Nistelrooy (seriously?? this is starting to get silly)
Esteban Cambiasso (probably for not worshiping Maradonna, so credit to him)
Wayne Bridge (had to mention it because of the John Terry-and-Bridges ex story)
Salvador Cabanas (shot in the head!!!)

That is a fairly extensive list of big names and it goes on. Question is, does this mean anything or am I just seeing ghosts. In any case I will be snickering to myself at the fate of the England captain while on the inside praying that the three injuries sustained by the German team doesn't completely bone them for South Africa. Schadenfreude cuts both ways I guess.

Lady Gaga vs The Black Eyed Peas

I figure I should start out with something a bit lighter on my first day and what on Earth could be more intellectually lightweight than pop music.

Unless you haven been living inside a black hole or were intelligent enough to realise that all radio is unbelievably shite and replaced your car radio with something useful, like an aquarium, then you must be aware that Lady Gaga and The Black Eyed Peas are the most lucrative pop acts today. While one pushes the envelope of pop music and fashion, the other produces the musical equivalent of pouring hemlock into our ear and then bouncing around in ridiculous costumes until the confusion becomes intolerable and we all lie down and let death slowly take us.

The saddest aspect of The Peas fall from grace is that it didn't have to be this way. The potential the group showed with Elephunk (I am basing my argument of their current incarnation: Will.i.am, alp.de.ap, Taboo and Fergie for simplicities sake) could have carried them further to pop music greatness. "Where is the Love", "Hey Mama" and "Let's get Retarded" (or "Started" depending on how terminal your case of political correctness), were all great party songs! They had energy, they weren't overly sappy or emotional, they stuck in your head for days and you didn't mind all that much. Then came Monkey Business and it seemed the group had taken the title a bit too poo-flingingly seriously. Suddenly we were cursed with the audio assault of inane "Don't Phunk with my Heart" and the infuriating "My Humps". As if to complete the insult by smearing sewage into the wound, the videos they presented with these two tracks were so universally offensive, I was afraid my dog was going to see it, go temporarily insane and chew off my face in its rage.

Often at this point the phrase "sell out" is bandied about like some kind of terminal illness, but I don't agree with the hipster haters, I don't mind it when a band "sells out". Selling out is a good thing, the band gets removed from the dingy, smoke filled, roach infested, psychotic criminal patronized hovel they usual play at and are allowed to play in front of larger audiences who just might appreciate them rather than trying to see how quickly they can dodge Molotov cocktails. It allows them access to better studios, better equipment and better producers and very often gives them the ability to create better music.Many bearded, pipe smoking, hipster tossers wax poetically about how the band used to be purer, more about the music before they sold out but what these grade-A, cleverer than thou, head-up-their-own-arse wankers forget is that this is the bands career and method of income and that selling out usually means the difference between full meals or eating their own head lice for nourishment.  I am not upset The Peas sold out, I am upset with the apparent glee they tossed away key concepts such as originality, wit, feeling and sense of fun and embraced all the worst aspects of pop music today. The album The E.N.D. (The Energy Never Dies), is like their magnum opus, their own personal Necronomicon, into which they have poured all their hate, soulless lust for attention and fame and the dessicated husk of their creativity. All this without mentioning will.i.am's reign of terror as the producer-de-jour, where he presided over some of the worst music shat out by the industry to date. The less said about The Duchess, the better.

On the other hand we have Lady Gaga, who in the space of one year has manage to stalk up the steps to the throne of pop stardom wearing a get up composed of a venetian mas, rubber bands and a plugged in toaster. A lot of stink could be made that Lady Gaga is a ruthless attention whore, who dresses up like a crack addict caught in a Goodwill/hardware store over night, however, despite her outlandish outfits it never stops feeling genuine. The crazy outfits seem to bespeak of a barely contained creativity, and her rise to fame through the gay clubs in New York City just seems to add to this mystique. Beyond that, Gaga seems to have decided to create her own brand of pop stardom on every level available to her, and her efforts have been improving at an exponential rate. "Poker Face" her debut, was a very catchy song, but when held up next to later efforts such as "Paparazzi", it sounds amateurish, and these two songs are on the same album!

Additionally we are privileged to receive her music videos, which push the boundaries both in terms of taboos, artistically and commercially. The much hyped "Telephone" video is the best example of this. Well over ten minutes long, feat. the recently dethroned Queen of Pop Beyonce paying her respects to the new Queen, shameless digital advertising, full frontal nudity, costumes that belong in modern art museums and the Pussy wagon. What strike me most is that the video was not released with television in mind. In its entirety it would never be shown on those few networks that still show music videos. It is a video made for the internet and it plays on and to the ebbs and flows of that medium like a master violinist on a Stradivari.

Finally, with Lady Gaga we can see a mind at work, with her most recent release, she pays homage to probably the most successful pop group ever. The song, titled "Alejandro", could only scream ABBA any louder brought them all onto the track and went down on them each in turn. Lady Gaga is claiming ABBA as a spiritual predecessor and inspiration and is acknowledging the fact that without those squirrly Scandinavians she would not be able to do what she does.

In all, I cannot wait for what Lady Gaga is going to next, what next song she will bring out or what crazy contraption she will wear next. Maybe she will go to next Grammys as a full fledged Cylon Centurion, maybe she will be a centaur. There's no way of knowing. Unfortunately, with The Black Eyed Peas, we know exactly where they are going. It ain't going to be pretty.

Getting started...

As this is my first foray into the dark, murky, monster infested waters of the blog-o-sphere, I did what any any marginally clever human being would do and cheated. The three entries found below are essential my "Best of..." of the past two years of shouting into the abyss of the internet. I rated them as "Best of...", as they generally elicited listless apathy  from my peers as opposed to the usual reactions of scorn and derision with a side of vulgar euphemisms for man-on-pig bestiality. So I hope you enjoy these literary equivalents of a mongoloid hippo attempting to play Chopin on a crappy Toshiba keyboard.
Now to get down to the true purpose of this epic endeavor known as The Schadenfreude Chronicles.

There isn't one.

I should probably clarify that statement.
I have no objective with this blog. I am not trying to make a political statement, hold court, enlighten the ignorant or convert the unbelievers. I do not seek to chart the waters of the human condition nor pass judgment on the lost. Ok, that is a lie, I will pass plenty of judgment, mountains of it, but it will all be well deserved. Mostly.

The best way to view this blog is just me musing into the vastness of The Net and seeing if anything echos back. I will attempt to keep it entertaining for anyone who happens to stumble upon this mad ravings. In fact I do have plans for this space. Coming up first is the World Cup, where I intend to use my embarrassing amounts of involuntary spare time to watch as many of the games as humanly possible all the while shamelessly ripping off one of my favorite sports journalists and writing out real time (not likely) game diaries.

God I hope Bill Simmons doesn't sue me.

Once that blessed tournament has ended, I will do my best to stave off boredom related depression and failed suicide attempts that end with me curled up in the fetal position weeping to myself pathetically by writing an entry every day for a year, or until gainful employment has made me a productive member of society.
Topics can include, but are not limited to: politics, science, business events, economic crises, selling Greece to Turkey, sex, sports, alcohol, the cities I have lived in, music, movies, cooking, women in bikinis, the downfall of human civilization, Singularity, selling Ireland to the state of Massachusetts, technology, how much I hate Mac-heads, cities I have visited, food I love, food I hate, food that I wonder how it came to be food, video games, board games, interesting shit I found while dicking around on the internet and the cowering, yellow-bellied way I will sell you all out to our future robot overlords when it comes time for us to all be plugged into the Matrix.

Now you may say: "Flip, you paragon of human virtue, nowhere in your waterfall of verbosity does it say what any of all of this has to do with Schadenfreude."
Well...I enjoy mocking the misfortune of other. Particularly the misfortune of those who I feel would have been weeded out of the gene pool if we'd all listened a bit closer to Darwin rather than that guy who convinced us all of that "love thy neighbor" rubbish. I am pretty sure he is the reason we are forced to endure people like post-1999 Madonna and Kim Jong Il. And the Jersey Shore cast. And Beck.

An open letter on the Winter Olympics

Monday February 22, 2010
 
To all:
I do not follow the Winter Olympics! They are a worthless set of snow games invented by a bunch of Scandinavians drunk on fermented reindeer urine and suffering from combination of snow blindness, cabin fever and gnome hallucinations! They range from the unbelievably silly (curling) to the mind numbingly monotonous (ski jumping) and the hair-raisingly suicidal (the skeleton)! I do not care how my country fares in the medal count in this horrendous, "my-country-tis-of-thee" money-sink. I do not care about corrupt french ice skating judges, doping scandals or if Apolo Anto Ohno is was in fact the inspiration for Jim Brewers Goat Boy character! I cannot fucking stand Bob Costas! The Olympic Anthem is less inspiring than the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, actually scratch that, it less inspiring than the fucking Titanic soundtrack, and that is bloody well saying something. How can anyone claim this is an event in celebration of the human spirit and athletic achievement when you need, at minimum, a structured loan on you house, kidneys and unborn children just to buy the fucking equipment to participate? Once you have then bankrupted yourself, you are then forced to undergo the added humiliation of squeezing your worthless, lumpy body into a suit so tight, most LA street hookers would consider it to be too revealing. Good Lord, they probably feed a bunch of blind, mongoloid baboons sets of crayons and then let them fling their poo at these outfits! Do they need these ridiculous colors just so they don't lose the "athletes" when the inevitable take a wrong turn and end up lost in the snow. It would also help if you need SPF 450 in order to go on a walk on a cloudy day, if you catch my drift. It's a an unbelievable waste of money and time. The only sport that be considered remotely exciting is ice hockey, and even that is only great for people to exorcise long simmering ethnic and international tensions via burly men slamming each other into walls or beating each other with sticks.
Thank you very much.

A belated Tribute to MJ...not the basketball player, the other one.

Monday July 6th, 2009

The death of Michael Jackson was not surprising, in many ways we were all expecting the King of Pop to shuffle off the mortal coil and moonwalk into the hereafter, his gem encrusted fist firmly a fixed to his groin, since well before his last pedo scandal. The Jacko legacy had been in a steep, ever-widening doom spiral of shocking excess, bewildering eccentricity, ludicrous self-aggrandizement and petty litigious spats with parents for whom the equation MJ+child+alone=$$$ rather than D-: , since the late 90's. In fact, the last song that held any of Mr. Jackson's power was 1997s "They Don't Care About Us".

The song caused significant amount of controversy due to the use of the lyrics "Jew me, sue me, everybody do me/ Kick me, kike me, don't you black or white me". Mr. Jackson was accused of antisemitism, a charge which he vigorously denied stating:

... The song in fact is about the pain of prejudice and hate and is a way to draw attention to social and political problems. I am the voice of the accused and the attacked. I am the voice of everyone. I am the skinhead, I am the Jew, I am the black man, I am the white man. [...]. It is about the injustices to young people and how the system can wrongfully accuse them.

While Jackson was eventually brow beaten into making an apology, Spike Lee, who directed the fantastic video in a Brazilian favela (shanty towns which have legitimately been compared to Baghdad on a bad day), rightfully pointed out that never once had there been a similar uproar about the use of the word "nigger" in songs.

I for one, think the song was the last flare of the Jackson genius. While his previous attempts at social commentary had ranged from sappy (Heal the World) to oversimplifying complicated ethnic tensions (Black or White) to "Oh cmon man, fucking come off of it already!! (Earth Song), "They don't Care about Us" thrums and bumps with all the anger and frustration of the young, the disenfranchised and the downtrodden. While most sane people would choke at Jackson's above statement, or at the very thought that the shambling, dessicated, grotesque, cocaine-fueled pseudo goth that MJ had become somehow embodied the whole of humanity, I agree with Michael. He isn't stating that he is the embodiment of these people, but is giving voice to the frustration and anger of those who are abused, challenging the abusers to come at him again and see what they will get. Arguably Mr. Jackson may even have been the best person to embody so many different groups, since his extensive plastic surgery allowed to shatter racial definitions (at least superficially). Even the video, which was made despite severe pressure from the Brazilian government who feared that filming in the favela would make them look bad, was powerful and visceral. The song stands for something in a way that Mr. Jackson's music hadn't done in many many years.

However, what struck me most of Mr. Jackson's death was a picture I came across while surfing the interwebs.

That is what he would have looked like!! Maybe at fifty he would have been a bit heavier from age and whatever drug abuse he would undoubtedly undergone at least three stunts of rehab for. But look at him!! He looks like a fairly well adjusted, fairly good looking black man, instead of Dr. 90210's Monster. He looks like he would be making under-appreciated blues with Quincy Jones while vocally supporting Tupac's bid for Governor of California. But then again this brings up the question: How much of Michael Jackson's talent was owed to his obviously shattered psyche? How much of this mans confusion fueled Thriller or Off the Wall? Would he have been the King of Pop or just "that guy who used to sing for the Jackson Five as a kid"? We will never know, but it is something that one should keep in mind when contemplating this gifted and profoundly disturbed man.

The King is dead. Long live the King. God fucking help us all.

Bother this nonsense!

Tuesday May 13, 2008

As the product of the union of a protestant mother and a catholic father my relationship with the rather hegemonic catholic church has always been slightly contentious. I have never had any issue with friends, members of my family or random people on the street who are catholic; my great uncle is a catholic priest and I don't think I have ever met a warmer, more intelligent human being in my entire life and probably never shall again. Yet an issue that has never ceased to nag me is how strongly the catholic faith is bound with the organization of the church. Primarily this bothers me as it puts something as intensely subjective and personal as spiritual salvation into the hands of a something that could callously described as a religious bureaucracy. Another pet peeve of mine is the churches often puzzling attempts at social engineering.

A group of supposedly chaste men lecturing us fornicating sinners on what is and what isn't correct behavior while getting hot and heavy at a company party is absolutely preposterous! It be like me trying to teach a school of fish how to pack in that nasty water breathing habit and maybe take up curling as an alternative. If it were Charlie Sheen telling us about how sex can be addictive and that we should watch out what we do I would be taking notes like a frenzied uni fresher during my first week of lectures. This guy just makes me shake my head and wonder what he's going to pull out of his hat next. Pope Lederhosen has already published the 10 bleeding commandments of driving, so I'm hoping for a new Psalm about body art. "And God doth decree that you shall not get a tribal/barbed wire tat around your bicep, as it makes you look like a twat. Neither shall a woman get a tongue stud, as it will lead men astray and put into doubt her chastity and purity." That's right, tongue piercings lead to blow jobs, and we all know where that leads to:
Sunday School!

God is laughing at his representative on Earth. Hard.