Hobosexual...

Considering a haircut. Thursday I think. Jess has been thinking about my haircut for at least a month. I know this because every single time we go out the door she reminds me that my hair is mentally ill. I've been putting it off under the delusion that I was a pioneer in crazy creative type hairstyling, until yesterday when I sat down on the tube and the guy next to me had exactly the same hairstyle. Fine, I thought, a fellow traveller... another genius about to wow the world with whatever he's about to pull out of that unwieldy backpack. It was of course a copy of a magazine called TRACTOR. I share a haircut with combine machinery enthusiasts. Agricultural chic, less metrosexual and more hobosexual. The Japanese girl that cuts my hair and is in a constant gloom over how I fail to keep my follicles in check will no doubt have more to say on the subject... My life would be simpler if I just gave in and listened to the pretty girls... [Music: off]

Scar...

Just tidying up some loose ends. Go watch The Proposition. Stephen King's Cell is worth a read, but John Bennett's Sea Otters Gambolling in the Wild, Wild Surf is much better and has more fingering in it. London is still filled with nightmares. Go look. And when BSG finally comes to the end of season two (only a two-parter left I believe) I want to dedicate some space to an overview of the whole shebang as it's been damn important tv as well as constantly entertaining. I just want to dump a few thoughts here from a few weeks ago before I lose them. If that sounds dull go look at naked people. Spolilers for BSG: S02E15 - if you don't have torrent capabilities look away now and give my regards to the 20th century- here be spoilers. I started this a while back so at least one prediction (the return to Caprica) has come to pass, although I wasn't prepared for the direction that THAT episode would take us. The point is, I guess, that on the surface SCAR was a pretty simple episode - Starbuck bangs heads with what is perhaps her Cylon opposite (in terms of flying at least) and lives to fight another day - but it was completely character driven, whacked a hell of a punch and underlined exactly why Starbuck is BSG while Apollo is still a pussy. The implication that perhaps Scar is the reincarnation of the Raider that Starbuck wounded, killed, climbed inside the guts of and flew back to the fleet was a tremendous idea. Need a better reason for holding a grudge? It's a pity he was smeared across a lump of rock by the end of the episode... we could do with more recurring villainy. The only real cliche was not remembering the dead pilots' faces/names as that gets dragged out in way too many 'war is hell' type movies and TV shows, but the rest of the episode was first rate. That Starbuck now has something to live for was not only endearing as there's only so many times you can excuse her reckless behaviour, it has the subsequent effect of making her take less risks as a pilot. She not only loses her Top Gun status, but also her feeling of being indestructible. Seeing as the theme of BSG so far seems to be 'kick 'em when they're down' I don't see much hope for a happy ending here. They can't lose Starbuck, but her freedom fighting boyfriend's days are numbered for sure. That should bring back an even darker and more troubled Starbuck in season three. Let's raise a glass to misery. The details in that episode were perfect - the shot of Scar leaving his hiding place in the asteroid field, the worn surface of his hide screaming SHARK. That was the best sfx shot of the year. They love the flashback framework in this show and it gets old when centred around Lee (his 'won't someone think of the children... and whores' episode was a low point this year), but having Starbuck's epiphany slowly unfold during that face off was inspired. Each jump increasing the reasons why this may well have been her last flight. The previous episode - Apollo getting his balls back was weak, because Apollo is such an annoying character - my heart goes out to Jamie Bamber as he does a great job, but really does anyone care about him? I'm not overwhelmed by the fact that he shot a gangster in the head. Starbuck would have killed everyone in the room, bitchslapped the whore and warned the kid that her life was already fracked before grabbing a bottle from behind the bar as the camera bobs around behind her arse. During the hostage episode of course she shot him - it does nothing to help Apollo's character develop as he's just a whipping post, but Starbuck has to live with almost killing him. Great stuff. The revelation that the Raiders can resurrect too was nicely done and something I hadn't considered. I love this show mostly because they always outfox me. And Boomer's perfect explanation:

"Makes sense doesn't it? It takes months for you to train a nugget into an effective viper pilot. And then they get killed. And then you lose their experience their knowledge their skill sets. It's gone forever. So if you could bring them back give them a brand new body wouldn't you do it? Death then becomes a learning experience"

And if that wasn't enough we have a 'moment' between Boomer and Starbuck. "You know there are times when I look at you and I forget who you are. All I see is that kid..." She leans forward, "You were like a big sister..." Only to be cut off by the Marines cocking their weapons in her face. Of course this all plays out on a different level during the Caprica episode...

"You remember me don't you? You want my ass so bad you can taste it. Well keep coming because I guaranfrackintee that I will put you down, this time for good."

See, that's how you write action dialogue. Oh yeah - and now they HAVE to go back to Caprica. Should be a hell of a finale... [Music: Loudness]

Yeah yeah yeah wow...

If you couldn't care less about Spidey's new black suit (raised web stitching or not), but still worry that Sam Raimi missed a trick by not having Spidey fight giant robots then you'll want to watch this: That's the full first episode of the 1978 Japanese Spiderman. The costume and powers are familiar, but this guy is more interested in his motorcycle than photography. His 'Uncle Ben' gets killed by an alien toy dinosaur robot thing before he inherits his suit from some old dying warrior in a nearby cave. Still with me? His costume by the way seems to be kept in an ungainly bracelet that when pressed sends the thing shooting across the room before it dangles mysteriously in front of our hero. One quick ZIP and he's all set to kick the living crap out of any nearby duckbeaked ninja. It's not subtitled, but it doesn't really matter. If you think you can't be arsed watching the whole 24 minutes then you'll miss the bit when he's up against the wall and has no option but to call for the help of his handy transforming lion robot. That doubles as a garage for his flying Spidermobile... Oh yeah and the end credits feature a whistling ballad theme tune. [Music: off]

Ahhhh...

So this is why they invented insomnia: Every single episode of The IT Crowd streamed straight into your traitorous eyes. [Music: off]

Got a police problem?

Don't even ask how to complain in Florida. And forget about the ID card problem in the UK. I read today that thanks to a change in the Police and Criminal Evidence Act earlier in the year that the police now are well within their rights to arrest you for anything. Before 2006 you had to have carried out a serious offence to be arrested, but now say you get pulled over for speeding and the police don't like the look of you they can arrest you. All offences are now arrestable. This seems to be an upgrade to the already disgusting Serious Organised Crime and Police Act. Once you're in a police station you are automatically fingerprinted, photographed and DNA sampled. All that crap goes into a national database even if you aren't eventually charged. I suspect that it's a little like tagging wildlife... PS Don't roller blade in Dallas either [Music: off]

Marathon runners have nothing on us...

This man has a lot to answer for: We got through the first two seasons of BSG in two days - with the 3 hour 'pilot' mini series thrown in that adds up to a LOT of TV. The schedule didn't allow for much else. We had a quick wander around the Tate Modern and along the Thames, but I see that crap every day and art is just too distracting when you have the ragtag Colonial Fleet on your mind. Of course we spent a lot of time discussing the finer points of Viper deployment, what resurrection meant for both human and Cylon, the subtle ways the new series drops in elements of the old school show and then just twists them off in elegant and sometimes brutal new directions... and we may have obsessed over Starbuck just a tad: Once the marathon was over we kicked back with the likes of Bad Santa (still incredibly funny), The Descent (still incredibly boring) and trying our best not too upset Jess too much. We failed miserably and there's at least one Chinese restaurant that we won't be going back to... The problem with only seeing each other properly every couple of years is that we have a LOT of idiotic conversations to catch up on... bystanders usually get caught up a in a whirlwind of the most offensive drivel and then spat out bloodied and worn. It's not pretty, but we're done for another year or so and it helps recharge my batteries being able to talk to someone who is just impossible to annoy. Speaking of not pretty I'm listening to Geoff Tate trying to keep up with Ronnie James Dio... And it's been ages since I copied a full Bad Signal onto the blog, but this one is just too good not to:

What is that thing in the sky? It's the sun. We haven't seen that since November. There are blinded people all over Southend today. I will never understand why they televise motor racing. It's duller to watch even than golf. A dozen highly-trained charisma-free planks in high-powered darts that handle like vacuum cleaners drawing a best-fitting line through a boring racetrack fifty times and the same three blokes always win. Give me the cross-country rally any day. I remember watching one where the driver was killing his navigator. The suspension had gone, and the driver was bracing himself against the steering wheel over the bumps and ditches and jumps. But the navigator had nothing to brace against. There was an in-car camera with mic, and you could hear the guy screaming every time the car hit the dirt, until he lost the power of speech entirely, and just laid there, jerking. He had to be carried out of the car by medics at the next stop -- because god forbid the driver should pull over or anything. I have a feeling that was the navigator who later died when the driver rolled his car. Bring back Christians vs Lions, that's what I say. That'd be some television. Don't lie to me. You only watch the Winter Olympics to see the skiers wipe out on the downhill slopes. I'd wear that shirt and go to the sports bar. "I'm a Lions fan!" "Me too!" "Have you ever met a Christians fan?" "Only in Oklahoma and South Dakota. But they say God invented lions anyway, so they're kind of torn. Which is funny, really, because that's what happens to the Christians on a Saturday afternoon anyway..." I should be running a TV network. I would crush the opposition. Also, see them driven before me and hear the lamentation of their women. "Les Moonves, what is best in life?" "To crush Jeff Zucker, see him driven before me, and hear the lamentation of his women." Now that'd be a press conference worth attending. Les Moonves in a loincloth, collar and tie, waving a broadsword stained with the blood of failed sitcoms. Standing on a pile of dead ugly middle-aged Italian guys with inexplicably hot wives. Send me all the money now.

You can subscribe to Warren Ellis' Bad Signal right here. [Music: Queensryche - Operation Mindcrime II ]

Almost 5am...

And I'm still not asleep? I should have had more to drink. Then again, maybe not. Later today Stu arrives from the cold damp North and will be here for the rest of the week. Send your whippet and pie related questions to the usual address and I'll pass them on. We are going to try and watch as much BSG as possible... I may have to look into getting Jess a Colonial Viper Pilot's uniform. You know for the sake of realism. [Music: off]

Miles ahead...

I've been trying to work out for a while now exactly what it was about Capote that underwhelmed me and then yesterday there was a full page ad for the movie in the paper and I realised that I'd been subconsciously hoping for a very different movie:

Sex and death - two things that come once in a lifetime... but at least after death, you're not nauseous...

Capote wishes he could have written that... [Music: 14 Year Old Girls - Zombies In Robots Out]

Crapola II...

Fuck pilot error. That last post wiped out the previous four. For. No. Good. Reason. Blogger is giving up my posts to the �ther faster than the SS got a hold of Anne Frank. This is the powers that be telling me to move over to MT isn't it? [Music: Iggy Pop]

Lock up your squirrels...

Suzanne is back: Looks like I'll have to start hanging around the temple again. It also looks like we both had Fuseli on our minds at around the same time. I love random synchronicity. Of course I'm merely an observer, while Ms Wurzeltod tends to take that slice of life directly by the tentacles and proceeds to squeeze the living ink out of it. Tomorrow I have an interview to transcribe... send me distracting links. [Music: The Killers - Hot Fuss]

Crapola...

I lost a post somewhere... I'll blame Blogger, but seeing as the last thing I wrote also ended up on Blottered for a few minutes it was probably pilot error. Fuck and jerky. Now I have to remember what the hell it was I had to say - and if I do it makes this post irrelevant. Now I remember why I didn't miss blogging this week... [Music: Fugazi - End Hits]

This just in...

Via my Channel Four News email thingy...

A careless blunder meant that a LETHAL beam of radiation was emitted from highly radioactive waste for three-and-a-half-hours out of a lorry driving across the North of England. Apparently it was "pure good fortune" no one was dangerously contaminated when a plug was left off a specially built container. The leak was only discovered the next day after the lorry had been parked overnight at Windscale in Cumbria. How often is dangerous radioactive material moved around like this? And why are there not more stringent safety checks?

Good questions. Like living in the North isn't bad enough without risking being irradiated... then again it would explain some of the things I saw being wheeled around by proud parents the last time I was back 'home'. And trust me, drivers do not need an even lower sperm count to justify buying a 4x4... Damn country's going to hell. I'm thinking about Bolivia. Would six months in South America help me focus? Maybe... if not it's still pretty good odds that it'd be a blast though. And we just got invited to Nick and Erika's wedding out in Manila in November. Now that's a bit of the world I'd like to see first hand... [Music: Stevie Vai's Flex-Able Leftovers]

That was the week that was...

Pretty hectic: I blame Jess. She took 3 days off and almost killed me. Taking a leaf from Baltar's book I've been trying to conjure up a new confident/advisor/fluffbunny for when Jess is not around. Unfortunately while he has no trouble at all taking advice from the one on the left all I can muster is the one on the right: As soon as I open my mouth he pulls a gun on me and chases me around the building... Rats [Music: Stevie Vai's Flex- Able]

Jason's rape...

This is the part of a conversation I overheard this afternoon:

I haven't seen Jason in ages. He's coming to the Arctic Monkeys. Did you hear about his rape? No. Well you know he was going through that rough patch? You mean when no one would sleep with him? Yeah, well he fucked this bird and she only turned around afterwards and said she didn't want it...

That's what I get for deciding to nip out to buy a copy of The Times just so I could have the Woody Allen DVD. [Music: Not the Arctic Monkeys]

Nuj Nuj wink wink...

I spent most of yesterday at the NUJ offices. All part of my plan to earn more money this year and finally be able to afford the next bit of William Shatner to fall off and end up on eBay. Today Jess is up at Westminster leaving me to my own devices... like Gene Simmons in Runaway my devices tend to be very bulky acid injecting robots that are useless at killing Thomas Magnum. Not sure what to do with myself really... tomorrow is all stitched up and then Jess is home for three days which will be fun, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do on a Saturday on my own. Alex undoubtedly would suggest some kind of sporting activity. Maybe I should watch Rollerball. Oh and as promised here's my stuff for Firecracker this month: Lady Vengeance Beautiful Boxer One Night in Mongkok Divergence Ashura The first three are all first rate. One Night in Mongkok is especially good as I wasn't expecting much. The nice thing about getting a pile of preview DVDs is that I usually watch them in the early hours of the morning or late afternoon - either way Jess isn't around which means now I have the excuse to sit down with her and watch the really good ones again. Of course, sometimes you don't need an excuse. I've seen Lady Vengeance five times now I think... [Music: off]

Heads up...

This is how the all seeing Google perceives me right now: Even as I type I am sat under one of those little grey squares. Once they make a more recent sweep and with slightly better resolution it's going to be too tempting to stick something interesting on the roof. [Music: off]

Really Invisible...

Damn, took me 8 days to get back here, which has to be some kind of record for this blog especially when you consider I hardly left this seat. Part of that was due to me having to write for a bunch of other places - there was a deadline pile-up at the end of the month that just kept getting slammed into. Thanks for email etc though... glad to know that people begin to worry that I have been CRUSHED under a pile of DVDs whenever I drop off the radar like that. Although the pace on Londonist picked up somewhat last week so you could always have kept an eye on me from there. No real news. Things are pretty good and Jess recently broke through yet another stress barrier to arrive bouncing on the other side declaring "Lets watch a film where things get fucked up!" after being heads down and crammed into work for like two weeks. Film wise I've been busy after revisiting George Romero's The Crazies to refresh my memory on all the ways the remake is going to suck. Capote was so-so, Munich was better than expected, but still didn't have much to say apart from that killing hot Dutch assassins with bicycle pump pistols was WRONG. Something I've known for years. I've also seen a bunch of Korean, Hong Kong and Japanese flicks that will end up on Firecracker so I'll skip over them for now. TV wise I'm behind on Life on Mars. I'll catch up this evening. BSG just had it's best episode this season following close on the heels of the worst episode. One was resting with Apollo while the other was all about Starbuck. No prizes for guessing which outfucked the other. More on that later as I want to rewatch it this afternoon. And yes, there will be spoilers. I'm almost done with Stephen King's 'Cell'. I was tricked into reading it by Dan who used the golden phrase "hybrid of I Am Legend and Night Of The Living Dead" which made my happy explode. It funnily enough has a touch of The Crazies about it too and suffers from a killer opening that all too quickly gives way to trademark King survival stuff. Much better than all that mystical gunslinging horsecrap though. Again more detail on that later. Dan of course is a complete bastard. He just moved to Japan. Fuck. He's currently blogging earthquakes for dog's sake while I am left here to write about clowns. And other dead things. Time and time again people I thought were friends choose their wives over me. Goddamnit I can cook! Duncan is also having a whale of a time and annoying me no end by sending text messages instead of starting a new blog:

There's been this mad and beautiful phenomenon here over the last couple of days. It looks like it is not snowing, but then if you look up into a sunbeam the air is sparking and glittering with thousands of tiny crystals. The Canadians call it diamond dust. Wild.

Don't you think he should share this kind of thing? Oh and if you see God or any of the other 'powers that be' please try and fuck him/them in the eyesocket from me. There's a slim chance that Sandwich may have a heart murmur. We'll know more in three weeks and there's not a lot to worry about right now, but it doesn't stop Jess worrying and me wanting to punch invisible forces in the throat. I can think of fifteen people I met in just the last week that I'd love to inflict health problems on, but by all means focus the life isn't fair beam on a fucking kitten. If you see me atop Centre Point trying to drop biplanes onto Oxford Street don't be too surprised. [Music: Disturbed]