"If anyone thinks a veteran would criticize the more than 140,000 heroes serving in Iraq and not the president who got us stuck there, they're crazy. This is the classic G.O.P. playbook. I'm sick and tired of these despicable Republican attacks that always seem to come from those who never can be found to serve in war, but love to attack those who did.
I'm not going to be lectured by a stuffed suit White House mouthpiece standing behind a podium, or doughy Rush Limbaugh, who no doubt today will take a break from belittling Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's disease to start lying about me just as they have lied about Iraq . It disgusts me that these Republican hacks, who have never worn the uniform of our country lie and distort so blatantly and carelessly about those who have.
The people who owe our troops an apology are George W. Bush and Dick Cheney who misled America into war and have given us a Katrina foreign policy that has betrayed our ideals, killed and maimed our soldiers, and widened the terrorist threat instead of defeating it. These Republicans are afraid to debate veterans who live and breathe the concerns of our troops, not the empty slogans of an Administration that sent our brave troops to war without body armor.
Bottom line, these Republicans want to debate straw men because they're afraid to debate real men. And this time it won't work because we're going to stay in their face with the truth and deny them even a sliver of light for their distortions. No Democrat will be bullied by an administration that has a cut and run policy in Afghanistan and a stand still and lose strategy in Iraq .
That'll be John Kerry.
The elections are one week from today. Exciting, I know.
(and, out of interest, has Q been subjected to a fiendish time-loop device? Surely it's ten years since it's been even fathomable for Oasis to even be nominated?)
One of the good things about living in Britain is that we always get to smile a little condescendingly whenever Congress decides that it's time to try and outlaw flag-burning. We chuckle at the silly Americans, knowing that our politicians would never do something as stupid as that.
Obviously, we have an unreported flag-burning epidemic in Britain.
In other, more website-y news, the photolog is moving over to Flickr. Exciting, I know.
Ahaha!
Because I'm still off work and getting annoyed with myself for being so. Hopefully, Mr. Doctor will help tomorrow.
But! Three entertainment pieces ingested today. And three mini-reviews!
- Planetary #26
Hahahahahahahahaha. No. - Seven Soldiers #1
Simply stunning to look at; definitely one of the most beautifully designed comics I've ever read. However, it has to be said that Grant's attempt to create the comic equivalent of a Rubik's Cube means that it's not as straight-forward and entertaining as it could have been. - The Wire: Season 4 Episode 13
There are few words. And indeed there must only be few, for I risk being battered to death if I reveal the ending of this series. Quite possibly the greatest American TV drama ever made. And if anything, I'm underselling it.
So, Torchwood. I'll be watching it next Sunday, but I can't quite shake off the feeling that if it wasn't so intimately connected with Who, there's no way I'd be back. And woe betide the series if John Barrowman leaves, as so far, it's difficult to discern a whole character out of the supporting cast.
It might also be me, but RTD and the writer of the second episode seemed to get a little carried away, thinking more of "We can have swears and the sex! Hurrah!" without really resorting to thinking too deeply about things; the episodes came off more as juvenile rather than adult (and while I am willing to wait to see how things develop over the series, I won't be happy if Owen gets away with the double-rape he commits in the first episode). Plot-holes, painful attempts to reconcile Gwen's non-belief (yes, I'm sure that drugs in the water is a a perfectly good way of covering up having Cybermen in every home and a sizeable proportion of Earth's population at the brink of suicide. Oh, and the destruction of Number 10 and Big Ben. Mmm, fluoride).
It was also quite unfortunate that the scenes involving the sex-crazed girl brought to mind Mitchell and Webb's Sir Digby Chicken Caesar rather than desperation, but I can't really blame them for that.
The subplots for the series appears to be twofold so far: why are the Weevils getting more jumpy than usual, and more interestingly, Who Is Captain Jack? We know why he's immortal, we know how he was in 1940s Britain, but even so, we don't know how he back from Space Station 5, or who he really is (and also the missing years he mentioned to Rose and The Doctor).
Not a patch on current American fare, but still better than most things you'll find on Sunday night.
(But! Is it just me, or have the set designers nicked the door from Star Trek: DS9's shuttle bays? And am I the geekiest person alive for even thinking it?)
"I stated when I saw the ad, I was commenting to you about it, that he [Michael J. Fox] was either off the medication or he was acting. He is an actor, after all."
I've been watching some of The Prisoner in the last couple of days, after getting the series very cheap from Play. I've never actually seen it before, and while I still think the premise is fantastic, the series itself is a little lacking sometimes.
Part of the problem is that the order of the episodes makes no sense. In some stories, Six appears to have been in The Village for months, knowing his way around, but at others, deep into the series, it's like he only arrived yesterday, meaning it's difficult to get any idea of progress. This is partly because the original broadcast order of The Prisoner is not the intended order of the series, but at the same time, there doesn't appear to be any canonical order which solves the problem. Which is a pity, as with a prison breakout show like this, some degree of continuity would be nice (especially with the revolving Number 2s. one of whom makes his second appearance before he makes his first!).
Putting all that aside, it is mostly enjoyable; sometimes it strays too far into the realm of indulgence, but again, Six himself is woefully inconsistent. At times, he seems to have almost superhuman intellect, whereas at other times, he's as thick as two short planks. Take the episode Many Happy Returns, for example. Six wakes up to find The Village abandoned and derelict. Knowing a good thing when he sees it, he finds a cat and builds a boat, sailing off into the sunset. After decking a couple of German gunrunners and depending on the kindness of knock-off Romany gypsies, Six finds himself in London. Now considering that he used to be a spy, that after resigning from his job he was kidnapped and placed in The Village, you would think that he'd know that London isn't safe for him. But no. Firstly, he goes back to his old house, where we discover that while he can resist all sorts of torture, Six is vulnerable to fruit cake and little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Then, in a fit of stupidity, he goes back to his old workplace to try and track down The Village's location. One guess as to what happens when they find it. After that, you do lose sympathy with him somewhat.
So far, then: deeply flawed, but I think it's probably worth following it through to the very end, although I'm told that the final episode is almost complete gibberish.
(from the 'albums I've really meant to get around to listening to again' pile)
(also, you could do much worse than checking out Shimura Curve's cover of Bizarre Love Triangle)
It's my own fault for having my similar playlist sitting in iTunes for over a year but not doing anything with it. I even had an idea for a cover! Not that I can remember it now, mind you.
Normally, the bus ride to and from work is a rather uneventful affair. A sleepy climb up the stairs in the morning before finding an empty seat to sleep in; while on the way home, a scramble to find an available seat and a chance to catch up on reading. All is quiet.
Today, though, was slightly different. Our driver, ahead of schedule, and annoyed at several different traffic infractions by cyclists, decided to pull over in the Kidlington layby and hold court. For about ten minutes. We learnt that bus drivers really don't like being told they're late by people fiddling with their change, nor people having conversations while they're trying to find their tickets. This was greeted with somewhat nervous laughter by the bottom floor of the bus, on the grounds that he's the one driving a rather large double-decker bus, and if he wants to flip out and go all Michael-Douglas-in-Falling-Down on us, then we're not long for this world. Especially with the bridge we still had to cross.
A rather nervous ride back, then. Taken at some speed. Mind you, I had forgotten to bring a new book with me today, so I would have been bored otherwise…
In a word, no. I've seen the demonstrations on the Internet about how you can find another person using a Zune and give them a song they can play three times. It takes forever. By the time you've gone through all that, the girl's got up and left! You're much better off to take one of your earbuds out and put it in her ear. Then you're connected with about two feet of headphone cable.
I mean, I hate the idea of having a bomb hanging over us, but I also hate the idea of a kid being sent to war and blown away that way.
— Gary Glitter, 1986
I may have the Smash Hits book. Just mayyybe.
Available at all good bookshops! And probably some mediocre ones, too, but try the good ones first!
And if anybody can find details of getting a print of this poster, I'd be impressed. I have seen it in the depths of Hell, but the internet is failing me for once…
For those of you who have been reading this blog for a couple of years: I'm very sorry. But, also, you might remember, during those halcyon days of 2004, that every other post was about the American elections, including the insanity of liveblogging both Conventions (and staying up to 4am watching them on C-SPAN). You may have noticed that this time around, I haven't spoken much about the upcoming mid-terms. Well, I have intended to, but work has meant that the last thing I want to do when I get home is write a thousand words on the political wisdom of the day.
But, obviously, I still think about it.
And the other reason is of course that I was so convinced that Kerry was going to win back in 2004. I saw the conventions, I saw the debates, I saw the polls, and I truly believed that John Kerry was going to be the 44th President of the United States.
This time around, things seem to be going even better. Even before the revelation of Mark Foley's cybersex sessions with House Pages, the Democrats have been beating the Republicans nationwide in the polls, and in individual races it looked like they may have been able to take back either the House or the Senate.
Now, people are predicting a landslide.
I say: never underestimate the Democrats' ability to screw up an easy victory. But I live in hope. And I will be liveblogging November 7th. I have the 8th booked off work, and yes, I'll be watching all the news networks as they whip themselves up into a frenzy.
Because I'm an idiot. And willing to be crushed at 4am again…
The new Robin Hood, then: for all his faults, thank goodness RTD was in charge of Doctor Who. The best you can say about it is that Hungary looked quite pretty.
For quality Robin Hood tales, I think we're going to be better off in the hands of CBBC.
(Oooh, Captain Jack doing the Batman walk in the Torchwood trailer!)
I think everybody has got the wrong idea about Jack Straw. He just had a very traumatic childhood experience with ninja, that's all...
And twenty years later, this is Masterpiece Prime, a 20th Anniversary version of the original Transformer. Almost thirty centimetres high, die-cast metal parts, more articulation in one arm than the 1984 has in its entirety, the Creation Matrix, his energon axe, and Megatron in gun form.
It is Thing of Beauty Optimus Prime.
