February 2003 Archives

Did I break a mirror on Sunday? Or accidentally kill a fairy?

Yesterday, I cancelled my normal office hours. This was partly due to not wanting to speak or see anybody ever again, but mostly it was because of a nasty sore throat which made it very hard to talk. So I rescheduled the time for this morning, as I thought (correctly) that I would be feeling better by then.

As I walked into my office, I saw the flashing voicemail light on my phone. I don't think I've spoken at length about my voicemail (and I'm sure you're all devastated by this lack of knowledge); my inbox seems to receive many messages that aren't meant for me. These come in two types: there's the short *click* as the person ringing realises that they've dialed the wrong number, and there's people who leave messages on subjects as disparate as "wanting to restart the mailserver" and wanting me to "fix the guttering on the Greenlaw building". One day, I'm going to go over to Greenlaw and start working on that guttering. They did seem rather anxious. Perhaps it's a trap; when I get there, I'll find myself confronted with a zombie workforce, all led to their doom by the odd phonecalls that the Zombie-Master of Greenlaw was leaving, all to build up a vast undead army which will rise up and defeat—

Oh. Sorry, I don't get out much.

Anyway, there was a message for me. At first, it sounded like another crossed wire, so I only paid cursory attention (getting the location of the zombie army's fortress for when the heroes have to go on a suicidal mission to save the Earth. Or waiting for the computer to boot up). It was somebody from the accounts department in the Computer Science building, wanting to know about some package which was sent in December, one which Kevin Jeffay—

(The professor who taught the course I was assisting last year. And I've suddenly become aware that this message is meant for me)

—has no idea why I sent the package, so could I come and see them about it?

I have no idea what they're talking about, but I go upstairs with a sinking feeling. I had thought this week couldn't get worse. But then they hand me an invoice from FedEx. They're asking for $141.50 for a package I apparently sent on the 19th of December, from my house to a D. Bianco, somewhere in New Jersey. At this point, I'm starting to think that joining the Greenlaw Zombie Army might not be such a bad idea. I don't even know anybody in New Jersey! I go back to my office with the invoice and start checking things out on the FedEx website. Which helpfully tells me that I sent the package, and that it arrived in NJ on the 23rd of December. But all I sent was the exam papers. Nothing else. Sure, I joked about how I had access to the UNC FedEx account, but I would never betray their trust in me by using the number for my own purposes. Who is D. Bianco? I'm becoming paranoid by this time, searching the Internet to try and find out something about this person, asking Bonnie if she knows anything (terribly sorry about that, by the way; I knew you'd probably be there to answer the mail, and I couldn't rely on anyone else). But I find nothing.

I eventually go back upstairs and tell them I know nothing about it. At all. They don't seem all that bothered, to be completely honest; but I feel terrible. And completely guilty. Even though I didn't send the package, or have anything to do with it, I must have done something which allowed this to happen. I've written an apology to Professor Jeffay, as I presume that this incident will reflect badly on him, considering he was the one who gave me access to the account number. I wish I knew what happened.

The week can end right now, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to know just how bad Saturday and Sunday have to be in to top this. I imagine it'll probably involve a visit from Homeland Security and some rubber gloves.

Oh, and stop phoning me about credit cards. I have one. I'm not going to buy another. Besides, it's interferring with the zombie signals from Greenlaw...

I keep trying to look on the positive side: although it took half-an-hour of staring at the phone, I managed to overcome my shyness and actually call her.

Which is more like a positive edge on a double-sided billboard of despair than a side, but I suppose it's marginally better than nothing. Marginally.

And, just to make things worse, I have this awful feeling that I ended the conversation rather impolitely. Not intentionally, obviously. She was being so nice after she had to let me down gently, wanting to know what I was getting up to and so on, but my brain was no longer able to form coherent sentences. So in order to save myself from total humiliation, I told her that I had to go (or something like that - my memory of the conversation is already becoming hazy), and that was the end of that. Of course, I'll probably never see her again; I can't apologise, so I feel quite bad about that.

The moral of the story? At the moment, I'm leaning towards "never trust anything when alcohol is involved". Or "don't leave it four days next time, idiot." The last one has an air of unwarranted optimism.

Now I'm going to return to my iTunes playlist of "The Most Depressing Songs In The World...Ever!" (with a running time of seven hours, fact fans)

I guess I'm just not John Cusack.

Well, nobody sent me any tracklistings, so I came up with two myself. The first is Standard Bearers:

1. Oasis - Live Forever
2. Kenickie - In Your Car
3. Pulp - Babies
4. Suede - Trash
5. Supergrass - Richard III
6. Blur - The Universal
7. Babybird - Goodnight
8. Echobelly - Great Things
9. Manic Street Preachers - A Design For Lif
10. Sleeper - Lie Detector
11. Longpigs - Lost Myself
12. McAlmont And Butler - Yes
13. New Order - 1963 ('95 Arthur Baker Mix)
14. Mansun - She Makes My Nose Bleed
15. Bluetones - Slight Return
16. The Charlatans - One To Another
17. Ash - Girl from Mars
18. Saint Etienne - He's On The Phone
19. Super Furry Animals - If You Don't Want Me to Destroy You
20. Echo & The Bunnymen - Nothing Lasts Forever

As you can see, there's nothing surprising in that CD. The second one is a little more interesting. Forgiven, Not Forgotten:

1. The Auteurs - Lenny Valentino
2. Alisha's Attic - I Am, I Feel
3. Black Grape - Kelly's Heroes
4. Charlie's Angels - It's Never Gonna Happen To Me
5. Gorky's Zygotic Mynci - Patio Song
6. Confetti - Who's Big And Clever Now?
7. The Divine Comedy - Something For The Weekend
8. Gene - Olympian
9. Dubstar - Stars
10. Dodgy - Staying Out For The Summer
11. China Drum - Wuthering Heights
12. Charlie's Angels - Things And More Things
13. Dweeb - Scooby Doo
14. The Sundays - Summertime
15. Chest - Better Now
16. theaudience - You And Me On The Run
17. The One World Orchestra - The Magnificent
18. Ultrasound - Floodlit World

Feel free to indulge in mockery down below in the comment section. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and reenact the telephone scene from Say Anything...

The Criterion Edition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a thing of beauty.

That is all.

Really, I have nothing to say today. It was sunny and warm. Er, and I walked in a big circle.

Oooh. Safari has tabs.

Magnetic Poetry for MacOS X

Tomorrow's Buffy is one of the funniest episodes ever screened. Bonnie will be sorry for mocking poor Ms. Espenson...

Warner Bros. considering suing The White Strips for lifting lyrics from Citizen Kane. John Peel heard to be cackling quietly...

Apparently, a source of cruel and unusual entertainment can be found on Sky channel 647, home to Bid-Up TV. Watch Peter Simon have a nervous breakdown in real-time!

North Korea fires missile into Sea of Japan; America responds by calling for the liberation of the Iraqi people.

Epic Comics is coming back, in what seems like an attempt to prevent any on-line comic news service from being able to report on Marvel ever again.

Cheers and Homicide: Life On The Streets to be released on DVD. MGM release The Unforgiven in May, making my bootleg obsolete (but still no sign of How To Steal A Million, Two For The Road or The Nun's Story. Grr)

Terror Alert Level: Oh My God, I Can't Take It Anymore, I'm Just Going To Curl Up Into A Ball Until I Wake Up From This Nightmare:

Why is it that after I have a good time doing something, I spend the next few days depressed?

I'm in the back seat of a car, heading to Raleigh with one hour of Saturday remaining. I was invited to a party by my next-door neighbour, Sona. Having excused myself from far too many of these things in the past few months, I felt that I should probably go along (although I changed my mind about five times during the day, but nevermind). One of my main concerns was the possibility of losing my ride and being stranded in Raleigh; yes, I think about things far too much. And funnily enough, I did lose my ride. But more on that later...

Even now, I'm still a little unsure what the party was supposed to be celebrating; I think it was Mardi Gras, but the impression I got was that it was just something Sona wanted to do, and he only needed the flimsiest excuse to justify the gathering.

Anyway, after getting lost in Raleigh, we eventually made it to the house. My first proper American house since arriving here in August! Yes, I actually keep track of milestones like that. And people accuse me of having no life. Pah to them, I say. Once again, there was much flouting of the law, with a beer keg and a strange Kool-Aid concoction. After reaffirming my hatred for beer, I settled on the mystery Kool-Aid, which worryingly had no taste of alcohol at all. Somebody mentioned that it was mixed with Everclear. I have no idea what that is; let's go Googling!

Everclear is 95% pure grain alcohol, odorless, tasteless, and very potent.

Ah. Well, that might explain a few things, I suppose. Having taken care of the drink, I decided to use Ian's Patented Party Survival technique: find a few people that you know, sit down, and don't move until it's time to go home. I know several of you have seen this masterplan in action many times. Did I mention that I'm shy? To the point of almost being a social misfit? I'm just really uncomfortable at parties. But Sona asked me to come, so I put on a brave face.

Twenty minutes or so pass, and the person sitting in the chair next to me gets up and disappears somewhere. Out of nowhere, a girl swoops down on the chair, and starts talking to me. For about an hour. Her first question is what university do I go to, and her eyes light up when I say UNC. Then there follows a long, rambling, slightly drunken conversation about Britain, war in Iraq, where she works, my TA horror stories, and many other things. During the course of this conversation, my ride disappears, but he lets me know that he's organised another way for me to get home. Catherine overhears this, and decides that I can ride home with her friends, and goes off to find them. She comes back all apologetic; there's no room in the car for another person. I tell her not to worry, as something has been arranged (of course, at this point, I have no idea who is taking me home, or when, but I'm not exactly caring much, either). We carry on talking for another half-hour or so, and then she has to go. I am given a hug, introduced to her friends, and then she leaves.

Shortly after, I find out that I'm going home with two people called Matt and Sarah. Who I've never actually met before. But that doesn't seem to matter too much, as they seem to know all about me. And they want to know every detail of what happened, as apparently they'd been watching all evening (which is less creepy than it sounds in print - the living room wasn't all that big...). I'm chastised for not getting her phone number, but by the time we've made it back to Chapel Hill, they've managed to devise a plan to get around that (let's just say that the UNC directory system is easy to abuse). I'm given lots of encouragement, and then they take me to the Cosmic Cantina for a 3am meal. Bonus feature: an Irishman and Indian woman having an argument over English colonisation. An interesting discussion, to say the least.

I get home at 4am. And wake up at 7am, as normal. Even grain alcohol doesn't mess up my body clock...

The high point of Standing In The Shadows of Motown occurs during a discussion in the Detroit theatre where the Funk Brothers are playing their reunion concerts. What was responsible for the Motown sound? Was it the arrangers? The producers? The singers? The acoustics of Studio A? The band simply goes to their instruments. First the drums kick in, then the bass, then lead guitar, and finally the piano and percussion. And then there's no need for any more discussion.

Standing In The Shadows of Motown is a documentary focussing on the career of the Funk Brothers, the backing band on most of Tamla Motown's releases during the 1960s. They were responsible for hits such as I Heard It Through The Grapevine, What Becomes of The Brokenhearted, Jimmy Mack, Reach Out (I'll Be There), and hundreds of others. Despite this, hardly anybody knows who they were. The film tells the story of the group, but also contains footage from their reunion concert in Detroit. Sadly, most of the Motown acts who were approached either declined or were too ill to participate; instead we get a mix of contempoary artists (Ben Harper, Joan Osbourne, etc.), Chaka Khan, and the demurely-dressed Bootsy Collins.

I would have liked to have seen more of the documentary side of things, as at times it seems as if the film was glossing over points far too quickly (we're never told exactly why Motown left Detroit, for example), but a major aspect of the film is that these guys can still play, so I suppose we needed all the present-day performances (plus, as a bonus extra, you get to see what Bootsy Collins wears for those 'casual' occasions...). Hopefully, the upcoming DVD will rectify this slight flaw. Otherwise, this is a fascinating look at the most successful band in music history.

What really surprised me was the lack of bitterness. From the final credits, it's clear that they worked on almost every classic Motown song from the late 1950s until the start of the 1970s. When they were dumped by their record label, and left to rot in obscurity. But there's no anger in their stories of the past; they just celebrate the good times, happy that their story is being told at last.

It's a period in music history that I know very little about. I'd like to find out more, but I'm not sure where to start. If you're interested in other music from the 1960s, for example The Beatles or Bob Dylan, it's fairly easy; you buy Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band, or Bringing It Back Home, and from there you go on to buy the other albums. But there doesn't seem to be an equivalent for the Motown acts. I can name tens of albums from that era, but I don't know the name of any Temptations album. Was Motown really just a singles outfit, meaning that there's no point tracking down obscure releases?

If someone knows what The Life of David Gale was trying to communicate during its two-hour running time, please let me know.

SPOILERS

The plot is fairly simple; David Gale (Kevin Spacey), an anti-death penalty campaigner is going to be executed for murder on Friday. Bitsey Bloom (Kate Winslet) has five days to prove his innocence, based on three two-hour interviews with Gale, and what her investigative skills can uncover, with the film's narrative splitting between flashbacks representing the interviews and the increasingly desperate attempt to save Gale's life. To help the audience understand the switching, we get awful swirling camera effects and amateur-looking montage sequences in transitions.

As I've said, I really don't understand what the film is trying to say. Is it, as the marketing seems to indicate, an anti-death penalty film? If so, it's a ham-fisted attempt at best; the plan behind the framing of Gale is completely ludicrous, and the final reveal makes it even more so.

Kevin Spacey can do this type of part in his sleep by now, and turns in a decent performance, but nothing outstanding. Kate Winslet is hampered by the dual indignities of having to affect an American accent and dyeing her hair blonde (okay, so that might just be me - and, hey, her accent isn't that bad), but she acquits herself quite well, despite the odd clunky moment that the script throws up. The rest of the cast is competent, but nothing outstanding.

In the end, it just seems very confused. I'm trying not to give any too many details, especially about the ending, but too many parts of the framing plan, supposedly executed by intelligent people (the film goes to great lengths to remind of this), rely on complete chance, or are simply too far-fetched to maintain credibility in the eyes of the audience. As this is an Alan Parker film, I'm expecting Empire to give it wide coverage when it comes out in the UK, so maybe he'll explain things there...

The trailer for Bruce Almighty makes me want to wipe out the human race.

Look at that goodness.

I'll think I'll have one—WHAT WAS THAT? The fondant has separated into a clear gel? "Mfd. in England for Hershey Foods"? Is there a special American section in Bournville where they produce vile versions of Cadbury's chocolate? A plan to keep the good stuff inside the border? I'm not against this in principle, but there needs to be a secret handshake or special marking, so UK residents abroad are warned of the dangers.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

I imagine this will fail miserably, as only about five people read this thing regularly, but anyway...

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to compile an 80-minute CD, themed around the Britpop Era.

The rules:

• For the purposes of this CD, a song is classified as Britpop if it was released by a British band during the period 16/11/1993 (release of Blur's Modern Life Is Rubbish) through to 21/08/1997 (Oasis's Be Here Now). This allows you to include many bands that were never classified as Britpop. You may be asked for justification.
• A band can appear no more than twice on the compilation; furthermore, if you do have two tracks from the same band, they must be from different albums or singles (this is to prevent Ian from sticking 20 Kenickie songs on a CD and declaring victory)
• The inclusion of Ocean Colour Scene, Northern Uproar, or Kula Shaker will be rightly mocked.

Deadline is a week from today. Send the list to my email, or post below. If you can't be bothered to create a whole disc, then track suggestions will be welcomed in the comment section.

There you are, hunched over the keyboard, and the thought pops into your head. You've never gone on a web search for Saint Etienne. Less than an hour later, you're downloading obscure Japanese releases and scouring websites for information on fan-club only albums. You've found live sessions, discovered that the US version of Tiger Bay is completely different from the original UK one, and been surprised to find out that Sarah Cracknell doesn't sing on Only Love Can Break Your Heart.

It's a sickness. And there's no cure.

By chance, I read the UNC newsgroups today. Which was good, because they were promoting a Creative Commons talk in Wilson Library that was going to take place this afternoon. I had read about most of the things discussed at the lecture, but it was nice to actually meet somebody behind the effort. The new idea of bringing back the Founders' Copyright seems interesting, and it's great to see that O'Reilly is backing the effort.

It's the electric thrill the rips through my spine every time Sarah Cracknell sings the chorus of Nothing Can Stop Us:

I've never felt so good, I've never felt so strong, Nothing can stop us now! (no no, no no)

The song turns up on far too many of my compilations, even though I often get the title wrong, adding the 'now' (I would link to evidence to the latest example of this, but I won't for fear of incriminating myself). Is it a declaration that nothing can stop us anymore, or that we are invincible only for this moment?

Once again, not a lot to talk about today. The window in my office appears to be slightly broken and refuses to shut properly. Not useful when it's below freezing outside. I decided to cut my office hours short by fifteen minutes and find somewhere offering warmth.

I have the tax forms of DOOM. They don't look all that scary, after a quick glance, but I'm sure there's a lurking horror somewhere between lines 1023 and 1320...

Everybody got President's Day off after all. I celebrated by watching Patton. Must remember to get some happy films every now and again.

WEAR A HAPPY FACE

1. Beth Orton - I Wish I Never Saw The Sunshine
2. Confetti - It's Kinda Funny
3. Aimee Mann - Wise Up
4. Cat Power - Good Woman
5. Gene - Olympian
6. Radiohead - Exit Music (For A Film)
7. The Beat - Save It For Later
8. Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah
9. Kate Rusby - I Wish
10. Kenickie - Acetone
11. Yo La Tengo - Our Way To Fall
12. Joy Divison - Love Will Tear Us Apart
13. Low - Point of Disgust
14. Sleater-Kinney - A Quarter To Three
15. Spiritualized - Cop Shoot Cop

I have Cat Power tickets!

If yesterday's entry seemed a little confused, don't worry — half of it is so cryptic that even I'm not sure what I was talking about. I blame part of the downbeat mood on my watching Get Carter after I came back from the protest. My, that's a depressing film. Or did it start on Friday? Or Thursday night? I'm being annoying again. Anyway, sorry about yesterday.

We're going to lead an assault on the fourth floor. It wasn't just setting off the fire alarm. It was setting off the fire alarm when there's a blizzard of freezing rain outside. Ready the Tomahawks!

Google buys Blogger. Didn't see that coming.

Reviews indicate that I did the right thing by going to see Punch-Drunk Love and Breakfast At Tiffany's on Friday instead of Daredevil (although I was worried that the BaT print wouldn't survive the showing; frames were missing, sound cues were obliterated at various points. I know that the BFI did a restoration on the original print last year, but obviously UNC can't afford the shipping). See, I told you it looked awful...

I came late to the Bis party, but i'm sad to see them go. There's just no place anymore for small indie bands, is there?

In a bit of good news (it's been a little gloomy, don't you think), Priest has a new comic coming out later this year: The Crew. While I'm a bit suspicious about the motive behind this (it does look as if Marvel has said "Well, he's black, isn't he? Let's give him a title with all the second-rate black guys"), if Priest can make the Black Panther interesting, then I'm sure that this'll be a good read.

Pictures from today's rally in Raleigh (do you see?)

My first protest, amazingly enough. Reports indicate that there could have bee up to 4,000 people taking part in today's march. I'm not sure how I feel about it, to be completely honest. I suppose the old saying is true; sometimes going to a peace rally makes you wish that the B-52s would start bombing, just to be contrary. I don't really mean that. I don't know what I was hoping to get out of the march (okay, again with the honesty; I was secretly hoping for one thing—which went as well as you'd expect), but at the end of the hour-long circular route, I just felt empty.

What had I achieved by coming to the the protest? An hour spent trying to discern voices from the woefully inadequate sound-system, another tied up with wandering around the site looking at the different placards and encountering the counter-protest (complete with a marine yelling that he wasn't going to take a bullet for us. The effect was slightly spoiled when somebody in the pro-war crowd recognised a counterpart in the anti-war side, leading to an unexpected friendly wave), and then a final hour walking the streets of Raleigh. Not exactly world-changing. But I suppose that wasn't the intent. We were just pointing out that a lot of people aren't convinced of a case for war.

But is that enough? Should Tony Blair announce tomorrow that after seeing a million people in Hyde Park, he's decided to call the whole thing off? Do we want that precedent? What happens if a million turn up the week after, demanding the reintroduction of the death penalty?

I'm not against war at any price. Surely that's not a good policy, suicidal for a nation-state. All I want is a persuasive argument from the US/British Axis; one that doesn't rely on lies, half-truths and exaggerations. And that the decision doesn't split NATO in half.

I'm rambling, I know. I'm impressed that a million people demonstrated in London and that only five people were arrested. A nice contrast to the typical anti-globalisation protest. I also like the BBC's new policy of welcoming photos from the general public. Mob-Journalism here we come. Or is it Strangeways? I can never remember.

Is my music too loud? I think it isn't loud enough. But I don't think the speakers can get it as loud as I need it to be. And I doubt that it would matter anyway.

Illustrator seems to have re-awakened the evil mixtape monster within me. Personally, I blame Andi Watson, and the fit-text-to-path function.

Anyway, here's a C90 for tomorrow's protests:

ESSENTIAL LIBERTY

1. Dexy's Midnight Runners - My National Pride
2. The Clash - I'm So Bored With The USA
3. Low - Canada
4. The Pogues - Birmingham Six
5. Bob Dylan - Masters of War
6. Pulp - Mis-shapes
7. Le Tigre - Dyke March 2001
8. Manic Street Preachers - Repeat (Stars and Stripes)
9. The Beatles - Revolution #1
10. The Clash - London Calling
11. Sleater-Kinney - Combat Rock
12. Radiohead - Electioneering
13. Billy Bragg - Which Side Are You On?
14. Primal Scream - Know Your Rights
15. The Smiths - Panic
16. R.E.M. - Exhuming McCarthy
17. Saint Etienne - Heart Failed (In The Back Of A Taxi)
18. Sleater-Kinney - Far Away
19. Super Furry Animals - The Man Don't Give A....

..give it to somebody else to take pictures with. Ladies and gentlemen, I present The Celtic Soul Brothers — no, hold on, I mean UNITAS 2003—

(warning - lots of large images need to load)

More here

Ah, it's an area where parents can drop off their children safely. Not, as first feared, a service where you have to kiss the driver before you're allowed on the bus. Potential embarrassing situation averted.

Yes, I've finally booked my Spring Break trip to Washington, where I will get a pair of Josh's enforcer sunglasses and look menacing. Stop laughing.

I'm going to be staying in Cheverly, MD, at this hotel, which is near the Metro station. However, I'm never simple; my first three days of Spring Break will be spent in Chapel Hill. The reason for this is that the annual Duke v. Chapel Hill basketball game is on the Saturday, and Laura tells me that the town goes completely crazy if UNC manages to win. Not much chance of that, but I think I should stay in town just in case.

One annoyance is that Amtrak refuse to send a ticket to university dorms. I can't see why, and it's irritating; Durham doesn't have a "Quik-Trak" station, so I'm going to have to pick up my ticket from an agent on the day. Grr.

By the way, have Easter Eggs gone on sale back in the UK yet? I haven't seen any here so far...

If I achieved nothing else today, I saved my students from the homework assignment from Hell. The professor snuck in a question at the last minute, assuming that it would be quite easy. I started working on the answer sheet this morning, only to get hopelessly stuck. A quick trawl on the Internet didn't seem to find anything, so it was time to break out the big guns (see, they were useful). I eventually found an answer.

Which ran to ten pages of dense maths involving imaginary integrals.

One hurried email to the professor later, the question was removed. That should prevent a deluge of confused students at my office on Thursday...

I did intend to vote today. Honest. But the blasted website refused to let me enter with Mozilla, and then Internet Explorer wouldn't work properly, and then a student came in with some questions. So it slipped my mind a little.

Go and buy the new Nick Cave album.

Insane and stupid ideas at the ready.

Get Your War On.

I was playing with my shiny copy of Illustrator (God bless Adobe and their Educational Licence Programme). After spending many nights pulling my hair out with Sodipodi trying to get the lettering right for Schroedinger's , it's a major change. You just click, and the text flows. Wonderful.

Letter balloons are a strange thing. I'm not sure whether the influence of Western comics is affecting me or not. Look at these three balloons:

If this was plain text, I wouldn't even consider the first font. But the balloon outline changes everything. The other two bubbles look artificial, whereas the first now looks natural. Is it just me? Have I been ruined by years of reading hand-lettered balloons?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you — the fair and balanced reporting of FOXNews!

O'REILLY: In respect for your father...

GLICK: On September 14, do you want to know what I'm doing?

O'REILLY: Shut up! Shut up!

GLICK: Oh, please don't tell me to shut up.

Meanwhile, back in the realm of the sane, France and Germany attempt to cut the Americans off by presenting their own plan. Send in the UN Peacekeepers! I find it highly amusing that they neglected to mention the plan to the US Administration.

A weblog from Baghdad.

And this is just funny.

Can't seem to shake this sore throat. America doesn't offer an equivalent to the mighty Strepsil. They have things that look like them, but you might as well be sucking a mint for all the good they do.

Playing around with Illustrator:

PBS on Saturday night seems to a British love-in. It's a little shocking to see Fresh Fields and Are You Being Served in a prime-time slot. Obviously, they couldn't afford the good British comedies. I suppose. Oooh. Waiting For God. Looks like a fourth-generation VHS copy. I don't remember it being quite so bleak and depressing...

Yes, it's Saturday night, and I'm watching PBS.

I Love The 80s! US Version! ALF! Teddy Ruxpin! Save Ferris! But no Stuart Maconie, Mark Radcliffe or Manchester linking scenes. I'm not expecting Pete Waterman to make such a big appearance either. I think I'll watch, just to see if our nostalgia towers over their nostalgia.

First thought - they don't have interviews with the people involved with the events they're discussing - just fast-cutting interviews with celebrities. Which seems to miss the point by a mile.

They're dissing John Hughes films. DEATH. And they don't seem to realise that Ducky was a New Romantic. Maybe the term didn't make it to America.

Change subject every two minutes!

Was American music really this bad in the 80s? TOP GUN! "You can ride my tail anytime!" God Bless Jerry Bruckheimer.

"FORMAT DEVISED BY THE BBC"

Tiffany! Bah, it's a bait-and-switch. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" — Bonnie, I'd just like to point out that it's not going to happen. NEVER. EVER.

EVER.

Okay, I can't take any more of this. Britain wins!

So my friend, if you want to start using American military strength as The Arm Of The Lord, you can do that, we're the only superpower left. You can conquer the world, like Charlemagne, but you better be prepared to kill everyone, and you better start with me ‘cause I will raise up an army against you and I will beat you.

Be afraid. Exercise caution, and review your disaster plan. Report suspicious behaviour to the authorities. Develop alternate routes to and from work or school and practice them.

North Korea is not a threat.

We have always been at war with Iraq.

Internment Camps are justified. For their own protection.

The Attorney General is right in dismissing plea bargains. We cannot negotiate with the Enemy.

Work smarter with PowerPoint version 2002, the Office XP presentation graphics program. Create attention-grabbing slides quickly, collaborate with team members on your presentations, and share them live or online.

Can you trust your neighbours? Are they true Americans? Do they believe in One Nation, Under God?

We are at Condition Orange. You may continue to work, but be vigilant! The Enemy is everywhere. Report UnAmerican Activities to the Department of Homeland Security immediately.

Your representatives in the Ministry of Justice are drafting new legislation to protect you from the ever-increasing threat. We will keep you safe.

This is a Condition Orange Alert. Be safe. Be watchful.

Unlike most people, I have something of a soft spot for Courtney Love, to the almost heretical point where I prefer Hole to Nirvana. So I speak from a position of concern: has she gone crazy? Getting arrested on a Virgin Atlantic flight, dressing up as Donald Duck, and of course the recent Q interview (I have links to scans of that, so consider yourself grateful that I spared you the trauma. It must have been an interesting art meeting — "Do you think we can get away with an 11pt Q there?" "Actually, I think you could get down to 10pt before all the copies are impounded under the Obscene Publications Act."). Or is she just fishing for interest in her new album?

From the what-might-have-been department: character designs for Buffy: The Animated Series.

Couldn't face doing the marking tonight. It shouldn't be too bad though, as they only had four short questions to answer. Oh, and we had more snow this afternoon. I'd like the weather to decide on what season it is, and stick to it, thank you.

No decent films to watch this week. Or the week after, for that matter, but the University is showing a double-bill of Punch-Drunk Love and Breakfast At Tiffany's next Friday, so I'll probably be going along to that. I still have a lot of unwatched DVDs to get through, so I'll be doing that this weekend.

Oh, almost forgot. You need to see this: The Second Renaissance. It's about five minutes long, and at the end you'll be hoping that the robots kick Keanu into submission in this year's sequel...

I just have to find a way to get it back to the UK. The planet mode is a little squarish, and it's only 13" tall. But! it's! Unicron!

Worship them from afar.

You know, I don't think that this is going to turn the French around, somehow.

Iraq is going to be liberated, by the United States and whoever wants to join us, whether we get the approbation of the U.N. or any other institution.

Of course, Perle isn't a member of the Bush Administration. He's just one of their top advisors. I hope that the press hound Ari Fleischer with this for the next few days. It's always entertaining to read his fumbled attempts to change the subject.

And before Co-lin Co-lin Co-lin Powell! delivers the evidence to the UN tomorrow, here's Chris Morris's take on the State of The Union.

Silly temperatures again. 20˚C in February is not right. But it did bring back a ritual that I forgot to talk about last summer, so it's not all bad.

The center of the UNC campus is affectionately known as the Pit; a lowered area that serves as both a meeting place and where the various societies pitch their recruiting tables. During the summer (and today, hence the point of this rambling), at around lunchtime, somebody would walk into the Pit and start shouting at the students. For extra bonus points, they'd be wearing an old-style sandwich advertising board with a Bible quote blazoned on both sides.

It's fairly typical stuff: "Welcome Jesus, or BURN in the Eternal Fires of HELL!" The students alternate between laughing at him (it's always a him) and picking his arguments to pieces. This once led to a fun discussion between one of the speakers and a about the impending war in Iraq; she was disputing his evidence, and he tried to dismiss her as one of those "fluffy do-nothing liberals". She pointed out that she was in the ROTC. He was a lot quieter after that exchange.

Welcome to Chapel Hill. Lone liberal town in North Carolina. All the stop signs around the campus have "BUSH" spray-painted beneath them; anti-war posters are everywhere. We're going to be first against the wall when The Department of Homeland Security calls people to account.

I really can't believe I forgot to press the lift button.

Anybody want to go to the Vinyl Exchange and get me this? I'll give you a shiny gold star if you do.