Muzak schmoozak - I love it and enjoy everything in it's place. Anything from classical music (granted mainly from adverts and incidental music but would go to one of them hamper and blanket on the ground events. Champagne? cheers. Schmoke? don't mind if I do, etc, . . . )
And back off on The Smiths (ya cnuts!) - anyone who can write such gems as -
'' . . If a ten ton truck* kills the both of us
to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die . . .
There is a light and it never goes out (etc)'' - gets my vote.
Morrisey writes some beautiful lyrics. I prefer them as irony and couldn't care less what he is on about overall. Meat is murder sucks (in a dark corner of my mind I have a remix c/w chainsaw, chickens** and whatever else I can pen. If anyone gets there before me then I'd like a cut.)
Viva Hate? - I'd buy that for a $1.
(Good at being miserable but you wouldn't want too much in one go. Go one on yourself you mourngy git and do 'happy talk')
How often have any of us been disappointed by an offering from a favoured artist? Often the words I've been singing for ages turn out to not be the same as those on the sleeve, and then some - ''You saw Sir Winker?''. Quite.
As a salsa dancer non. . . (etc) I enjoy many a track that I haven't the faintest clue what they are on about - Los bomberos, Dos gardenias por amor, Dos cervethas por favor - they could be singing about a bunch of fascist chicken-plucking nuns for all I care (hmm? - this remix may even have a video).
Simply read?
Some words are better left unspoken or perhaps best not committed to a blog. However, in a time-honoured tradition of dodgy footwork and in the spirit of defending the incomprehensible I'll put my hand up and admit to having enjoyed - (oh no!) Happy hardcore. To those who don't know this has got to be quite simply the daftest music about - not big or clever but then it doesn't pretend to be either.
Sped up music, lyrics about magic carpets, rainbows and other escapist bollocks abound all brought together by an enlivened m/c - full chat and rarely the voice of an angel but often uplifting.
Don't go there, no really, don't . . . . . oohhhh go on then. One really shouldn't make an arse of one's self but when in Rome (Milton Keynes, actually, and erm? . . Luton, Elephant and Castle, etc (some bons mots really are left private) make like a Roman. One meets quite a cross section of people - not just yer tabloid-typical wild-eyed raver.
Dressed up warm for the night and pleasantly conversational adult chaperones (one even reading her Mills and Boon!), muscle-bound squaddies out on RnR, an athlete who told me it was the best workout she ever gets, and, hand on heart christianly clean, naturally aspirated - respect.
Then of course there's the rest of england's finest - council house asbo-fodder, m/c bad boy racers and lots of oddly cute, pigtailed skippy young ladies. Any of the Birkenhead crew in? watch your stereo. A lonng time since I went - probably satnavs or, heaven forbid, the whole jalopy now. Snakes are often spotted a mile off. As are mugs and dodgy security guards. Methinx we all know who we are.
My good daughter's inauguration into a life less ordinary came when, I figured, if she was gonna go experiment in life's wonderfully rich bounty then I may as well make sure that I could assist her if things went tits up, as it were.
And we all fall down from time to time.
(Hands up anyone who hasn't publicly gaffed - Cherie Blair? pff! - ''When I get older . . '' - I rest my case. I'd maybe spin her in the middle of the floor but karaoke? naw (2). What about the lifestyles of the rich and famous ? Looking at them, can you really blame us? They know how to unwind from a day down at the factory - are You really telling me how to bring my kids up? (leaf, book . .) (3)
Back to the . .
We actually never thought we'd get in what with us being rave virgins 'n' all. But some very kind people helped us along the way - people I'll always remember. And as an opener - m/c Junior with Force and Styles belting out 'So glad you made it' as we walked in. ***
I'll be back . . coffee, fagbreak and Carmel's The Falling on the box (available at all good stores and in time for . . erm? whateveritscalled)
* It may have been a double decker bus (Routemaster even - catch 'em while you can http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAEBF.htm
** Bugger all to do with Bird flu!!
(2) http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=when+i+get+older+cherie+blair&btnG=Google+Search&meta=
(3)http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=euan+blair&btnG=Google+Search&meta=
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Straw_(politician)
***Actually, l made that bit up - it's what l sang to my brood after gaining entry.
(4)One off the cuff. I thought I talked bollocks but this guy can certainly big up the little issue http://www.pm.gov.uk/output/Page8123.asp
RnR ptII: press the eject . . .
Not really wanting to make any more of a song and dance of it (as there are other things to do) but amongst all the badinage there were some inspirational words -
'If I can do it; so can you'. Unknown m/c. It made me more determined to get out of a hole, of sorts.
That's enough of that - off to work.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Fourth plinth.
As a piece of artwork Marc Quinn's sculpture of Alison Lapper certainly provokes interest and on many levels. (Some puns are intended, that however was not one. It's more the case that if everything is edited for pc reasons then the subject cannot be properly discussed.(1)
If you 'Google' Alison Lapper there are about 40,000 references (possibly 40,001 now). And you've got to hand it to her she's got herself first on the list (2).
Alison Lapper has been very much in the public eye recently, due mainly to her condition(3). To most of us mere mortals, nothing is known of her art other than her being art. Although, couldn't it be said that her suffering is her art? To be sure she is now feted and her opinions may resonate for a while, there may even be an interest in her work. But it is largely a self portrait. In that case, Quinn's sculpture is like a chapter in a biography. And perhaps appropriate enough for the turnaround that is the 4th plinth project. Will we get to see chapter two?
Quinn's Lapper seems to stand in stark contrast to Nelson's column, well actually it squats. Now, I'm not sure what art is supposed to do other than be provocative and Lapper is certainly that. Is she a hero? I'm sure that even in the fairest of fights Nelson could kick her head in* but then I've never seen his artwork.
Lapper's though, I have (a bit). I was going to make some joke about 'Venus de milo' but hey, she's there already. And that is likely the crux of the matter. One couldn't argue that in selective shots she sure looks purrdy - if'n you go for a gal's looks that is. And for some blokes she has got the bits that seem to count - someone has certainly proven a point.# And there are microwaves. Ironing could be the scene of a domestic though . . .
Perhaps Lapper issues a challenge of what we look for in another person. Are we superficial in our tastes to want someone else's idea of perfection? Lapper says 'I can do it as well as you' and she can - up to a point. James Heartfield's article on Lapper points out that her survival and progress comes with a great deal of assistance - Ms. Lapper would not have survived in the wilds and as a mutation is not one that would see the human race thrive in her form(4).
One could criticise yet Alison Lapper in spite of her condition does many things and can inspire others that are wont to seek therapy in one form or other. I'm heartened by the likes of Beth Hamilton (5) and others that over ride their condition. Many a restless night has me watching niche Tv and I'm stunned by the capabilities of disabled athletes - one-legged slalom skiers going full pelt and achieving commendable times, for instance. Mayhaps an unfair aerodynamic advantage? Don't think there'll be a queue for the operation though.
I also recall the tale of a young german tank commander in WW2; shot some 5 times, left for dead, patched up and eager to return to the front after 6 weeks. Stirring stuff even if you don't agree with his cause (6).
Quinn's Lapper is notable in that it is a sign of the times - it comes to the fore in a culture uncomfortable with its past glories and seeking comfort in frailty. It will be something to celebrate when medical science can achieve limb grafting and the like so that the disabled can function as near normal as possible 7).
If 'the statue' had been created by Alison Lapper herself it would've been more impressive but l don't think it belongs on the fourth plinth.
(1)http://www.bbc.co.uk/ouch/closeup/lapper.shtml
(2)http://www.alisonlapper.com/
(3)http://images.google.com/images?q=alison+lapper&hl=en&btnG=Search+Images
*NB. Although she does have some fighting prowess. Read on - http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,6761,1561045,00.html
(4)http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAD61.htm
(5)http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&lr=&rls=GGLR%2CGGLR%3A2005-51%2CGGLR%3Aen&q=+bethany+hamilton+&btnG=Search
(6)World at War series (?)
(7)Hooray!
(8)See also - http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAEEF.htm
§Out-take
'. . It reminds me of a schoolboy fantasy involving a rope, RE teacher and a table (I'd've let her have one arm free) . . . etc.'
Originally removed as figured was kind of gratuitous but reposted in light of Welsh quacks. See F*cking Welsh! (this blog, Feb 2006). Like it says - schoolboy fantasy and not deed.
Lapper. Round 2
The devil within had far worse lined up for Ms. Lapper - and a sneaky chance to indulge some other penchants. I couldn't help thinking that 'Alison Lapper 8 1/2 months pregnant' resembled a lump of plasticine capable of being moulded into anything. Seeing as how I've alluded to raping her, giving her a kicking and sewing some arms on her then I may as well crucify and resurrect her as well
Why? Is it fun to pick on the disabled? Up to a point maybe. Maybe in as much as no-one would rightly choose to be disabled and we laugh at such concerns so as to cope with them or even in recognition that the disabled are still people and we interact as normal as possible, albeit perhaps patronisingly.
Call it a version of Tourette's syndrome but I imagined nailing some arms on Alison Lapper in my own blood-dripping bastard artwork creation but thought better of continuing l'enfant terriblisme. However, with all the hoohar surrounding religious imagery, particularly amongst some members of our muslim brethren and also to make a not so subtle play on resurrection and notions of Divinity versus human ingenuity and medical science (and what with easter coming up) then I may as well.
Why the cheap shot at religion? After all a great many good people have connections with matters of faith and to rubbish their icons maybe hilarious or just nasty, maybe even tonic for the troops, but without a plainer distinction between The Divine and Humanity it remains a small part of the argument.
Others have said, the story of religion is essentially a human one.
As is Alison Lapper's.
Whether it is the military icon, religious representation, science-fiction architectural or other, 'art' should provoke or stimulate thought. Quinn, Lapper and the 4th plinth project challenge the militaristic associations with Trafalgar Square - a pregnant, disabled woman, giver of life Vs. Nelson, disabled warrior, etc (et al).
If Alison Lapper was the stopper of war or harbinger of peace forevermore then she may be considered heroic and worthy of claiming a place at Trafalgar (am begining to like the idea of Trafalgar Sq as a cultural battleground).
The reason why Alison Lapper has become elevated is manyfold but she can be because society has developed to the point where disability can be accommodated, cared for and patched up. However, Alison as Goddess of beauty and disability is a poor reflection of what society accepts regards notions of a common humanity.
Perhaps she asks to be loved (and 'the disabled' by association), that we see through her disability and beauty and get to know the person within; capable of being loved and loving but also a thinking, acting and creative being. That's fine - that's the human part but elevating disability is to accept being part human.
Anyone can get cut by steel, paper or even grass but it's nice to know that we can generally patch ourselves up or have access to people and things that can. Likewise, if injured at work, in a crash, playing sport, etc we should feel safe in the knowledge that medical practice and science has developed to the point of being able to fix most injury. Of course, if better resourced and if that was the focus rather than overmanagement and too many a lightweight scheme.
There's a bitter irony revealed in Generation Kill where a Doctor/Soldier is torn between continuing his patriotic duties and tending to an injured Iraqi. He cites that if the man's injuries are attended to he can be saved, albeit with some lasting damage. Yet still an increase in survivability from earlier times.
The moral being that even in situations designed for death, destruction and serious injury medical technique, prowess and capabilty follow close behind.
' . . l'm only dancing'
I chanced upon a dance program called DV8 in which a guy with no legs, Dave l believe he's called, peers through the window of a ballet studio (this after mischief in a wheelchair at a bus stop which sets the tone). Mischievious and mis-shapen you wonder what he's up to as he watches the graceful ballerinas. Himself perhaps an object of ridicule or even repellance - an opposite of the dancers. He enters the studio and shuffles through the rising and falling legs of the ladies at the bar, approaches a seated ballerina whom he links up with to dance/roll about with - a work of some elegance.
The next scene is Dave astride his mate's back; his mate walking on all fours with arms and legs straight yet done in such a way that it is hard to determine which torso the legs belong to or if they are all as one.
Perhaps this raises further questions as to acceptance of what is, Dave and co 'wishing' he had legs or a play on homo-eroticism and love of one's fellow man as brother and reflection of self - room on my horse for two, he ain't heavy . . or putting yourself in his shoes and vice versa.
I wouldn't like to patronise Alison Lapper by suggesting she would be a better person if only she had arms, nor Dave some legs, merely to state that the alleviation of all illness as much as possible is more desirable than accomodating to it.
Round Three: Militant dwarf and pretty lady spend all day pestering shoppers. 19th. March'06.
Don't know what it was the other night but basically a programme about disability and how society accomodates it.
A section of the show was about people parking in disabled spots at supermarkets and featured a small man in matrix garb and a lady with a walking stick. The lady was quite pretty, which may not be significant (the man l couldn't really say). Basically, they proceeded to hassle people (predominantly asian - again, maybe not significant) who for whatever reason were taking the piss out of the disabled by ignoring their existence and nicking their carparking spots.
Oh, you bad people (coming over here and) nicking our carparking spots . . . There is a seperate, if not related issue of supermarket, and other, carparking design and one that effects everybody. Carparking for 'normal' people leaves a lot to be desired. Often cramped and just as awkward for the old and perhaps not so firm, those with children, large people, lots of shopping and even those on foot. My bad self has parked in the bay. Excuse? none, other than believing that the disabled should be treat no better or worse than any body else. Whether it's one of those things that have changed over time or not but it's recalled that many a time at busy hypermarkets, etc., these spaces have been empty and wasted. All the while us able bodied types have to weave our way with our laden and lopsided trolley on ramped causeway through everyone else's pride and joy.
Haven't people got better things to do? This is an example of petty and selfish single issue 'activism' of the worst kind. It pulls on the heartstrings; who does want to see the differently abled abused and ignored? The better part of the show was 'Dave' (aka MD - sorry, don't know the names) interviewing 'Steve' - 25 years old, cerebral palsy, wheelchair bound, etc., and profoundly differently abled. Steve seemed to be something of a whizz on computers and wanted to work, contribute and attain a measure of independence but all too often got the knock back. The person without 'won' and Steve lost.
It's a tough world out there . . . and not just for the differently abled. Society does have a poor record in care for the infirm in many situations but also a substantial care sector running right the way through from the family and voluntary sector to hospital, lowest to highest wages and so on.
By percentage disability seems to have quite some say, albeit and like most things not one of open and honest discussion.
Round 4
Now playing - (My Baby Does) Good Sculptures - Rezillos . . .
If you 'Google' Alison Lapper there are about 40,000 references (possibly 40,001 now). And you've got to hand it to her she's got herself first on the list (2).
Alison Lapper has been very much in the public eye recently, due mainly to her condition(3). To most of us mere mortals, nothing is known of her art other than her being art. Although, couldn't it be said that her suffering is her art? To be sure she is now feted and her opinions may resonate for a while, there may even be an interest in her work. But it is largely a self portrait. In that case, Quinn's sculpture is like a chapter in a biography. And perhaps appropriate enough for the turnaround that is the 4th plinth project. Will we get to see chapter two?
Quinn's Lapper seems to stand in stark contrast to Nelson's column, well actually it squats. Now, I'm not sure what art is supposed to do other than be provocative and Lapper is certainly that. Is she a hero? I'm sure that even in the fairest of fights Nelson could kick her head in* but then I've never seen his artwork.
Lapper's though, I have (a bit). I was going to make some joke about 'Venus de milo' but hey, she's there already. And that is likely the crux of the matter. One couldn't argue that in selective shots she sure looks purrdy - if'n you go for a gal's looks that is. And for some blokes she has got the bits that seem to count - someone has certainly proven a point.# And there are microwaves. Ironing could be the scene of a domestic though . . .
Perhaps Lapper issues a challenge of what we look for in another person. Are we superficial in our tastes to want someone else's idea of perfection? Lapper says 'I can do it as well as you' and she can - up to a point. James Heartfield's article on Lapper points out that her survival and progress comes with a great deal of assistance - Ms. Lapper would not have survived in the wilds and as a mutation is not one that would see the human race thrive in her form(4).
One could criticise yet Alison Lapper in spite of her condition does many things and can inspire others that are wont to seek therapy in one form or other. I'm heartened by the likes of Beth Hamilton (5) and others that over ride their condition. Many a restless night has me watching niche Tv and I'm stunned by the capabilities of disabled athletes - one-legged slalom skiers going full pelt and achieving commendable times, for instance. Mayhaps an unfair aerodynamic advantage? Don't think there'll be a queue for the operation though.
I also recall the tale of a young german tank commander in WW2; shot some 5 times, left for dead, patched up and eager to return to the front after 6 weeks. Stirring stuff even if you don't agree with his cause (6).
Quinn's Lapper is notable in that it is a sign of the times - it comes to the fore in a culture uncomfortable with its past glories and seeking comfort in frailty. It will be something to celebrate when medical science can achieve limb grafting and the like so that the disabled can function as near normal as possible 7).
If 'the statue' had been created by Alison Lapper herself it would've been more impressive but l don't think it belongs on the fourth plinth.
(1)http://www.bbc.co.uk/ouch/closeup/lapper.shtml
(2)http://www.alisonlapper.com/
(3)http://images.google.com/images?q=alison+lapper&hl=en&btnG=Search+Images
*NB. Although she does have some fighting prowess. Read on - http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,6761,1561045,00.html
(4)http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAD61.htm
(5)http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&lr=&rls=GGLR%2CGGLR%3A2005-51%2CGGLR%3Aen&q=+bethany+hamilton+&btnG=Search
(6)World at War series (?)
(7)Hooray!
(8)See also - http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAEEF.htm
§Out-take
'. . It reminds me of a schoolboy fantasy involving a rope, RE teacher and a table (I'd've let her have one arm free) . . . etc.'
Originally removed as figured was kind of gratuitous but reposted in light of Welsh quacks. See F*cking Welsh! (this blog, Feb 2006). Like it says - schoolboy fantasy and not deed.
Lapper. Round 2
The devil within had far worse lined up for Ms. Lapper - and a sneaky chance to indulge some other penchants. I couldn't help thinking that 'Alison Lapper 8 1/2 months pregnant' resembled a lump of plasticine capable of being moulded into anything. Seeing as how I've alluded to raping her, giving her a kicking and sewing some arms on her then I may as well crucify and resurrect her as well
Why? Is it fun to pick on the disabled? Up to a point maybe. Maybe in as much as no-one would rightly choose to be disabled and we laugh at such concerns so as to cope with them or even in recognition that the disabled are still people and we interact as normal as possible, albeit perhaps patronisingly.
Call it a version of Tourette's syndrome but I imagined nailing some arms on Alison Lapper in my own blood-dripping bastard artwork creation but thought better of continuing l'enfant terriblisme. However, with all the hoohar surrounding religious imagery, particularly amongst some members of our muslim brethren and also to make a not so subtle play on resurrection and notions of Divinity versus human ingenuity and medical science (and what with easter coming up) then I may as well.
Why the cheap shot at religion? After all a great many good people have connections with matters of faith and to rubbish their icons maybe hilarious or just nasty, maybe even tonic for the troops, but without a plainer distinction between The Divine and Humanity it remains a small part of the argument.
Others have said, the story of religion is essentially a human one.
As is Alison Lapper's.
Whether it is the military icon, religious representation, science-fiction architectural or other, 'art' should provoke or stimulate thought. Quinn, Lapper and the 4th plinth project challenge the militaristic associations with Trafalgar Square - a pregnant, disabled woman, giver of life Vs. Nelson, disabled warrior, etc (et al).
If Alison Lapper was the stopper of war or harbinger of peace forevermore then she may be considered heroic and worthy of claiming a place at Trafalgar (am begining to like the idea of Trafalgar Sq as a cultural battleground).
The reason why Alison Lapper has become elevated is manyfold but she can be because society has developed to the point where disability can be accommodated, cared for and patched up. However, Alison as Goddess of beauty and disability is a poor reflection of what society accepts regards notions of a common humanity.
Perhaps she asks to be loved (and 'the disabled' by association), that we see through her disability and beauty and get to know the person within; capable of being loved and loving but also a thinking, acting and creative being. That's fine - that's the human part but elevating disability is to accept being part human.
Anyone can get cut by steel, paper or even grass but it's nice to know that we can generally patch ourselves up or have access to people and things that can. Likewise, if injured at work, in a crash, playing sport, etc we should feel safe in the knowledge that medical practice and science has developed to the point of being able to fix most injury. Of course, if better resourced and if that was the focus rather than overmanagement and too many a lightweight scheme.
There's a bitter irony revealed in Generation Kill where a Doctor/Soldier is torn between continuing his patriotic duties and tending to an injured Iraqi. He cites that if the man's injuries are attended to he can be saved, albeit with some lasting damage. Yet still an increase in survivability from earlier times.
The moral being that even in situations designed for death, destruction and serious injury medical technique, prowess and capabilty follow close behind.
' . . l'm only dancing'
I chanced upon a dance program called DV8 in which a guy with no legs, Dave l believe he's called, peers through the window of a ballet studio (this after mischief in a wheelchair at a bus stop which sets the tone). Mischievious and mis-shapen you wonder what he's up to as he watches the graceful ballerinas. Himself perhaps an object of ridicule or even repellance - an opposite of the dancers. He enters the studio and shuffles through the rising and falling legs of the ladies at the bar, approaches a seated ballerina whom he links up with to dance/roll about with - a work of some elegance.
The next scene is Dave astride his mate's back; his mate walking on all fours with arms and legs straight yet done in such a way that it is hard to determine which torso the legs belong to or if they are all as one.
Perhaps this raises further questions as to acceptance of what is, Dave and co 'wishing' he had legs or a play on homo-eroticism and love of one's fellow man as brother and reflection of self - room on my horse for two, he ain't heavy . . or putting yourself in his shoes and vice versa.
I wouldn't like to patronise Alison Lapper by suggesting she would be a better person if only she had arms, nor Dave some legs, merely to state that the alleviation of all illness as much as possible is more desirable than accomodating to it.
Round Three: Militant dwarf and pretty lady spend all day pestering shoppers. 19th. March'06.
Don't know what it was the other night but basically a programme about disability and how society accomodates it.
A section of the show was about people parking in disabled spots at supermarkets and featured a small man in matrix garb and a lady with a walking stick. The lady was quite pretty, which may not be significant (the man l couldn't really say). Basically, they proceeded to hassle people (predominantly asian - again, maybe not significant) who for whatever reason were taking the piss out of the disabled by ignoring their existence and nicking their carparking spots.
Oh, you bad people (coming over here and) nicking our carparking spots . . . There is a seperate, if not related issue of supermarket, and other, carparking design and one that effects everybody. Carparking for 'normal' people leaves a lot to be desired. Often cramped and just as awkward for the old and perhaps not so firm, those with children, large people, lots of shopping and even those on foot. My bad self has parked in the bay. Excuse? none, other than believing that the disabled should be treat no better or worse than any body else. Whether it's one of those things that have changed over time or not but it's recalled that many a time at busy hypermarkets, etc., these spaces have been empty and wasted. All the while us able bodied types have to weave our way with our laden and lopsided trolley on ramped causeway through everyone else's pride and joy.
Haven't people got better things to do? This is an example of petty and selfish single issue 'activism' of the worst kind. It pulls on the heartstrings; who does want to see the differently abled abused and ignored? The better part of the show was 'Dave' (aka MD - sorry, don't know the names) interviewing 'Steve' - 25 years old, cerebral palsy, wheelchair bound, etc., and profoundly differently abled. Steve seemed to be something of a whizz on computers and wanted to work, contribute and attain a measure of independence but all too often got the knock back. The person without 'won' and Steve lost.
It's a tough world out there . . . and not just for the differently abled. Society does have a poor record in care for the infirm in many situations but also a substantial care sector running right the way through from the family and voluntary sector to hospital, lowest to highest wages and so on.
By percentage disability seems to have quite some say, albeit and like most things not one of open and honest discussion.
Round 4
Now playing - (My Baby Does) Good Sculptures - Rezillos . . .
Sunday, September 11, 2005
b b b b b but(t) . . . .
There was a scotsman, englishman and another scotsman who got caught out on the land of the DefraMyarsi. High prince Usurpa Miliband was furious that they had footprinted on his sacred 'land fit for heroes' (!?!) and sent them out to get him 5 samples of fruit whilst he thought of their punishment.
First back was canny scot, Gordon; he'd been frugal in his efforts and brought back 5 juniper berries.
Miliband told him he had to shove 5 of these up his ass everyday. Gordon, sweaty, shaken but a little relieved, mopped his brow and realised he could manage that.
Next to return was earnest Ed; he'd brought a handsome peach, a bunch of small but nice looking bananas and three different bunches of grapes. When Miliband told him to shove these, 5 a day, where the sun don't shine his face dropped (but he figured his missus could give a hand packing 'em in . . . ).
He wearily joined Gordon to discuss their fates.
Enterprising Tony returned much later, for he had scoured far and wide. Gordon almost suppressed a wry chuckle when he saw that he had brought with him a pineapple, prickly pear . . . the NHS IT programme and (insert whatever applicable) and (make your own assumptions) for he was vainglorious and sought to impress with the legacy of the fruits of his Labour (still, he could wipe up using the justifications for his wars in Iraq . . )
etc, etc, etc
New Labour - they won't like it up 'em/blow 'em out ya ass/this town needs an enema.
. . . . etc. X
First back was canny scot, Gordon; he'd been frugal in his efforts and brought back 5 juniper berries.
Miliband told him he had to shove 5 of these up his ass everyday. Gordon, sweaty, shaken but a little relieved, mopped his brow and realised he could manage that.
Next to return was earnest Ed; he'd brought a handsome peach, a bunch of small but nice looking bananas and three different bunches of grapes. When Miliband told him to shove these, 5 a day, where the sun don't shine his face dropped (but he figured his missus could give a hand packing 'em in . . . ).
He wearily joined Gordon to discuss their fates.
Enterprising Tony returned much later, for he had scoured far and wide. Gordon almost suppressed a wry chuckle when he saw that he had brought with him a pineapple, prickly pear . . . the NHS IT programme and (insert whatever applicable) and (make your own assumptions) for he was vainglorious and sought to impress with the legacy of the fruits of his Labour (still, he could wipe up using the justifications for his wars in Iraq . . )
etc, etc, etc
New Labour - they won't like it up 'em/blow 'em out ya ass/this town needs an enema.
. . . . etc. X
Friday, September 02, 2005
(Some thoughts on sex, dancing, porn and ladies.)
Sex is everywhere. At a basic level it exists as the animal within us all - men and ladies. My good self - as a red-blooded male cannot help but be enchanted by the ladies.As an occasional salsa dancer non extraordinaire one can and does get away with murder on the dancefloor.
With odds ranging anything from 5 ladies to one gent (ha ha) and up then every joe average prepared to have a good time can be almost John Travolta.
Formula is -
* tidy up fellas but don't worry too much as you'll never get out of the house. Put your best food forward and relax.
* dress as you see fit. Chances are if you're gonna have a go then you'll loosen up. Relax.
* Lynx if you're that kind of guy (1)
* couple of stiff shandies
* wallet, fags, chewing gum, charm.
* Go.
If you're out of practice then it's best to loosen up with a) a stiff drink, b) say hello to people you vaguely remember and c) the warm up lesson.
And fellas, get in close - too many dance at arm's length as if we might catch something. Sheesh! it's supposed to be an 'intimate' dance and yes, it's a contact sport but it's not marriage. Relax! Listen to the music and don't go mad with your feet - best take short steps. If you watch freestyle then the feet are all over the place, some shake, gyrate, pause and body pop. Attitude and rhythm are king - hey nonny no it ain't.
One of my favourite tricks is to hit the floor spinning but usually sending my partner on doing erm? . . . a man's turn, grab her as if she is taking the lead, chuck in a couple of cross body leads from the wrong side and then let go into some freestyle messing about just to let them know what they're dealing with.
In salsa (meaning sauce/spice it up ie. not pasta) as in most types of dancing the male role is the lead. For the new starter this can be quite daunting keeping time, opening the moves, keeping it interesting and enjoying yourself all at the same time and this often with a partner who knows more than you.
Us Englishmen don't like to do poofy stuff like dancing so since the GIs left the sisters pretty much have to do it for themselves. They can anyway. One woman in a class completely led a routine from her 'secondary' position unbeknownst to her and I didn't have a clue. Ginger Rogers said words to the effect of doing everything he (Fred Astaire) does backwards and in high heels (2).
Unfortunately some women insist on being led so really one ought to learn some basic moves. However, there being more of them than us then they get what they're given. If you get one that carries on a bit then give her a slap . . . no, that's something else. If it doesn't work then fair enough she can always dance with her mates.
Dancing is best learnt face to face. A book can be handy for back up but is unneccesary in the long run. Although reading the background to the Argentine Tango you find there was a surfeit of men particularly in and around Buenos Aires and that they had to dance with each other. Excuse me? Blokes dancing with blokes? You're having a laugh, mate. (3)
Not so in the UK, well not up north anyway. Thankfully we can all talk about football and other manly things instead. A night out in The 'merrie citie' of Wakefield (pre and post 'let's get tough on drinkers' campaign) often resembles something of a cattle market or zoo. There's a lot of mingling and gazing, whatever but often it's groups of lads ogling the ladies and progressively viewing the night through beer glasses.
There's more to it than that of course; it depends on who you are and what you go for.
'Pretty women out walking with gorillas . . .'
At a salsa class or event us average Joe's get to dance with ladies of all shapes, sizes, ages, colour, nationality, class and intellect. It can be overwhelming in amongst all those ladies wanting to dance with a limited supply of partners and you can find yourself 'hot property'. You don't realise it but an arrogance can develop - subtle or otherwise, maybe an element of charm. Who knows, you might even start to scrub up.
Over time though you may get to see the ladies in a different light. You may find a partner if that's what you want but you can also get a finer appreciation of women on one level (not compulsory).
The man to woman ratio can lead to the man getting a puffed up sense of his own importance - something of a prima donna outlook. Although the moment when you think you're the greatest dancer is usually that before your biggest cock-up.
However, you can always wing it. My favourite music is uptempo, loose, brassy latin as it is very forgiving with mistakes. One partner went flying over one of my two left feet only for me to catch her, swing her around 180 degrees and carry on dancing. She thought it was amazing. (I do it all the time, love.)
It would be nice though to do it properly.
Ken can. Women that dance with Ken, a big fella, talk as though they have been on a white knuckle ride and more - some say that their feet hardly touch the ground. He is confident, strong and more to the point has got excellent timing and can dance. And I hate him.
(1)http://www.unilever.co.uk/ourbrands/personalcare/lynx.asp
(2)http://www.reelclassics.com/Teams/Fred&Ginger/fred&ginger.htm
(3)http://totango.net/sergio.html
Porn.
What red-blooded male doesn't appreciate the female form? (Intellect is a different attraction. Here we are talking about 'basic instincts').
Porn is readily available in any format, shape or size. Apart from the nether regions of the market the vast majority of porn is dominated by the female form and aimed at men.
Everyday titillation is provided by the red tops. The Daily Star and Daily Sport (UK newspapers) are often low core porn mags and one doesn't mind admitting to having one's interest aroused but after 3 or 4 pages of the stuff it becomes pretty ordinary. It may make the day go around for some but it seems to be an escape in itself or a delusion.
Surely after the umpteenth spread, awkwardly reclining torso or hands through the hair doesn't it wear a bit thin?
The market may be saturated but that hasn't stopped the weird and wonderful from springing up. Every angle is catered for - squirters, milfs, barely 16, Big and Busty, old swingers and all manner either side and on top of them and no doubt very interesting too.
Sex sells and for anything from £3 - 4 and up it's not too hard to see that your right hand's for dipping into your pocket and shelling out.
Perhaps we would all like the 'perfect' figure or like to at least come across well. Leaving aside the fetish ends of the market then the bulk loosely centres around your 34-24-34 model or thereabouts. Although this zone has been augmented to accentuate the allure of the female form.
The character Jessica in 'Who framed Roger Rabbit?' epitomises the caricature - botoxed lips, curvy thighs, large breasts and soft purr voice - enough to make the sanest rabbit slobber.
With cosmetic surgery, gymnasiums and diet plus make up, accessories and media techniques even the quite plain can become Jessica Rabbit. Hence Katie Price becomes uberbabe Jordan.
Flesh, curves and lots of it.
Many a male would like to wallow in the stuff. So much that an attack of the 50 foot woman could be appealing - bedding down in sumptious marshmallow woman. Mmmmmm . . .
Although the last time any man found himself anywhere close to a woman of those proportions it will have been at birth.
Run away!
See also -
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/30/magazine/30feminism.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5087&en=4c0bd9b9392f83a7&ex=1152421200&nl=ep&emc=ep
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
