Lord Macca of Loch Kodak on his appearance on The X-Factor:
[Sir Paul McCartney] said he got some great reaction from people about his performance on the X Factor.
“We got great feedback on the streets the next day. It’s my claim to fame now.”
Foes of President Barack Obama and his policies can vent their frustrations by engaging in fictional warfare, thanks to a new online strategy game with a heavy political component.
The satirical game 2011: Obama’s Coup Fails, launched last month by a group of Ron Paul supporters that call themselves The Founders, throws players into combat against the crumbling Marxist forces of Obama’s loyalist Black Tigers, the Islamic fundamentalist Nation of Malsi and The Cong — a group of deposed Democratic congressional leaders.
Playable on the United States of Earth website, the game mixes strategy, trivia questions and community elements but has no particular ax to grind with Obama, according to Mike Lodispoto, one of the game’s Libertarian founders. In fact, the next United States of Earth game will target President George W. Bush.
Further to my rant about clueless DJs replacing proper producers, here are a couple of funny little animations about the horrors of being a mastering engineer to today’s “talent”: Mastering: The Movie Part One and Part Two.
And, from an interview this month’s Sound on Sound magazine, here’s Bruce Swedien, studio engineer for Michael Jackson’s Off The Wall and Thriller albums, on Quincy Jones, producer of the same:
“…Quincy and I first worked together with Michael Jackson on the movie The Wiz. We were living together at a hotel in Manhattan, and we would go to Studio A at A&R Studios. We had a big session at noon on Monday to record some of the music with a big 70- or 80-piece orchestra, and we had to leave for the studio at 10am. The night before, Quincy and I had guests at our hotel for dinner, and Quincy still hadn’t even started on the orchestration for the opening titles. I was getting a little nervous, but he said not to worry about it. At about four that morning, I woke up and noticed under my door that all the lights in the apartment were blazing. There’s Quincy at the dining-room table with a billion sheets of manuscript paper, and he was writing orchestrations. I said ‘Quincy, we’ve got to leave soon!’, but he just said ‘Don’t worry about it’ so I went back to bed.
“At about nine o’clock I got up again, and Quincy said to me ‘I’m all set’. There wasn’t even a piano or a guitar in the apartment; just Quincy and his manuscript paper! Off we go to the studio, and Quincy hands over his score to the copyists. He didn’t even want to conduct — he’d hired a conductor because he wanted to be in the control room with me. The conductor gave the down beat, the orchestra played the entire overture, and there was not a single note out of place. It still gives me the chills to think about it!”
[Thanks to Tom Nuttall for the video links.]
This [HD YouTube video] is a bonkers slab of wonderfully British-sounding soul-pop from V VBrown. Shame about the over-compressed production/mixing/mastering that turns every peak into white noise.
This [HD YouTube video—censored version] is an equally bonkers slab of ironic hair metal from the self-proclaimed “modern Spinal Tap“, Steel Panther. I know it’s meant to be a joke, but this one video is more entertaining than the entire recorded output of The Wedding Present, and, right from the touching opening couplets, the writer(s) of the song Community Property show(s) a better grasp of scansion than Kelly Clarkson:
I would give you the stars in the sky
But they’re too far away
If you were a hooker, you’d know
I’d be happy to pay
If suddenly you were a guy
I’d be suddenly gay
Furthermore, the guitar solo in the middle is, by the genre’s standards, a model of taste and concision. Here’s Steel Panther being interviewed on the BBC News site.
Meanwhile, there are more Frankie Goes To Hollywood re-releases/remixes going on. Having heard the first of them to be released, I can believe Pop Justice when it says that the remixes of their singles/12-inches somehow sound more dated than the original tracks. It’s ten times easier today to do the stuff that Trevor Horn did with them originally back in the 80s, but most remixers and dance “producers” are hack DJs who wouldn’t know musical if it walked into their flats dressed like Lady Gaga and then strutted out with its conical bra cups stuffed with all their iPods and cocaine.
Have a look at this elegant illustration of the relative safety of one cervical cancer vaccine.
Read this intriguing blogpost about how the appointment of bean-counters at Premiership clubs might well have made league games even more exciting to watch (as well as costing bookies money).
[Thanks to Jim P.]
I picked up this Prospect blogpost, via the magazine’s twitter feed, where it carried a headline that falls into the Kamm/Rentoul category of “Great Historical Questions To Which The Answer Is ‘No’.“:
“Is Afghanistan Obama’s Vietnam?”
The article itself doesn’t bother with the question mark, but is a classic of the “another Vietnam” genre, once so popular in commentary about allied intervention in Afghanistan (until it became comical to anyone who could read), and then popular in commentary about allied intervention in Iraq (until it became comical to anyone who could read).
Several of the usual clichés are in place: “bodybags”, “fierce” native fighters [imagine the cries of “RACISM!1!!” if someone tried that kind of thing in another context], “exit strategy”, “neocons”, and a collection of “far-away country between people of whom we know nothing” boilerplate minimizing the region’s strategic significance.
Thanks to its generic nature, I don’t have to write a fisking of the piece. I’ll just point you at one I made earlier and invite you to add Streithorst’s clumsy attempt at drawing a historical parallel to my old collection.
[It might also seem from the piece I link to that Streithorst doesn’t know how to spell “elusive”, but if we assume that he really did mean “illusive”, then it’s fair to say that “elusive” would have made more sense in the context in which he deploys it.]
Via Paulie’s “Shared Items” feed at Never Trust a Hippy, I read on the Democratic Society Blog one of the best “Did Magna Carta die in vain?” comments ever [see foot of the post I link to] and, on Tory Troll, an account of yet another FAIL by frontline interviewers.
Here’s a tip for the meedja and the senior members of the Labour Party: everyone else didn’t go to Oxbridge; everyone else is bored of the Bullingdon Club. I was in the same place at more-or-less the same time, and I am bored of the Bullingdon Club. I admit, my being interested in policies is not typical of the general population, but at least if you work for the BBC and ask politicians about their policies then you can claim that you are doing your job and people will be less likely to wonder if you deserve your undisclosed salary.
UPDATE: Sadie offers another eyewitness account, and Simon Dyda has video.
One cool thing about twitter is the ability to search for a particular subject and see what people around the World are saying about it right now. This morning, as England’s tail-enders were putting on some cheeky runs, I searched for “Ashes”—which, as you’d expect, has recently become one of the most common words appearing in tweets—and this was the most recent hit:
disappointed Aussie wants to punch English people in face
On being shown Michael Jackson moonwalking to Billie Jean, a friend’s seven-year-old son shrugged his shoulders and commented, unimpressed:
“Ahh… He’s got wheels in his shoes.”
[Anecdote and title stolen wholesale from JL.]
I’ve been known to be uncomplimentary here about Tamworth, the town where I grew up. Back in the 80s, an Australian barman once told a friend of mine that, travelling around England, it was the place where he had been beaten up most frequently for being Australian. And he was white.
Thanks to Paulie for drawing my attention to this lovely letter which ties together two of my most recent PooterGeek posts. It appeared on the Daily Mail Website in response to the latest comments from Bernie Ecclestone:
He’s not wrong. Hitler did get things done. Not what should have been done perhaps—and not in the way people might have wanted them done—but get things done Hitler certainly did. So did Ghengis Khan for that matter! As for Max Moseley leading Britain, could he be any worse thatn Brown or Blair, or that leader-in-waiting, Cameron-de-Pinko? Anyway—Mr Ecclestone is a billionaire—he can say what he likes, and damn what the media thinks. On balance, free speech like that is a good thing.
— Cllr Chris Cooke, Tamworth, UK, 4/7/2009
[Councillor Cooke is an Independent, who “supports” the BNP.]
Bernie Ecclestone, the Formula One chief, said yesterday that he preferred totalitarian regimes to democracies and praised Adolf Hitler for his ability to “get things done”.
Mr Ecclestone endorsed the concept of a government based on tyranny.
“Politicians are too worried about elections,” he said. “We did a terrible thing when we supported the idea of getting rid of Saddam Hussein. He was the only one who could control that country. It was the same [with the Taleban]. We move into countries and we have no idea of the culture. The Americans probably thought Bosnia was a town in Miami. There are people starving in Africa and we sit back and do nothing but we get involved in things we should leave alone.”
For the past four years, I have been involved in a dispute with a utility company over a sum that ultimately amounted to several thousand pounds. The company will remain nameless here because, today, thanks to the intervention of the relevant government watchdog, we finally settled without having to go to court. It is a classic Damian Counsell life-disaster story: because of his scrupulous chopping-off-his-nose-to-spite-his-face honesty, the Geek sentenced himself to half-a-decade of consumer hell.
The first of many bizarre facts about this dispute was that it resulted from my trying to pay the bill for my own use of their product, rather than the much lower use of another, non-resident, consumer at my premises, and from Nameless Utility Co doing its damnedest to stop me from doing so.
The last bizarre fact was that, last month, when, after all these years, an amicable agreement finally seemed to have been reached, and all that remained was for me to sign the relevant documentation authorizing payment, Nameless Utility’s representative in the negotiations (and apparently one of the few competent people in its employ)—let us call her “K”, for that was indeed her first initial—suffered an acute life-threatening viral infection that put her in a coma for a week. Nameless Utility’s replacement negotiator reviewed the relevant documents, declared that their representative had acted without proper authority, and ripped up the deal. It’s both depressing and funny that her colleagues at Nameless Utility were puzzled by my behaviour when I began my telephone calls to them by asking about her well-being.
I had to threaten legal action to get them to negotiate this new position. They returned to the table—and confirmed the original settlement. I am merely worse off now, but a hell of a lot less badly off than if I hadn’t fought my corner. K isn’t fully recovered yet, but better, thank goodness. Still, I’m not counting on this tale having reached a final resolution until I’m escorted to a quarry for execution.
Every single “serious” newspaper in the UK led with Iran this morning. But The Daily Mail devoted its entire front page to an attack on Gordon Brown and the Iraq Inquiry, and The Express (alongside a photograph of a Euro Lotto winner cradling a giant cabbage) to asylum seekers, the largest group of whom before the war came from Iraq. The Mail’s inside coverage of Iran is headlined:
POLL RIOTERS RIP IRAN APART AS AHMADINEJAD ROUNDS UP OPPOSITION
What those restive Iranians need is some “sound, commonsense, Conservative doctrine“.
I love tie-and-dye, and used to carry books around in tie-and-dye bags that my mum made for me. It was some time before I became aware (to my discomfort) that people in the west associated it with hippies. Here’s a BBC slideshow about makers of tie-and-dye fabrics in Mali.
The resignation of Hazel Blears reminded me again that this nation’s government now has a “Department for Communities”. Letting that phrase pass my lips without implied quotation marks would be like vomiting into my mouth without washing it out.
Thanks to Kevin Harris’s “neighbourhoods” blog, I can sample a little of that department’s output, a review document called “Empowering communities to influence local decision making“. Brace yourself:
Local practitioners are a crucially important resource in developing this agenda [PDF, 571KB] and bringing it towards fruition.
It is important that government clarify the objectives of empowerment and give a sustained commitment to an agenda that may take a while to deliver notable successes.
These simple messages imply the need for developing accessible, inclusive and facilitated strategies for empowerment. The community and voluntary sector and specifically community development techniques have an important role to play here.
What in the name of Orwell is a “a facilitated strategy for empowerment”?
I’d resign too, rather than sign off on prose like that.
[UPDATE: via Andreas’ Blog, Gordon thanks Hazel for “driving forward the community empowerment agenda”.]
Cunningly, Yahoo! has made a virtue of the Alex Massie view of the relative lack of sophistication of “Twenty20” cricket to promote their live online coverage of the world championships.
[The video embedded below is a Windows Media file.]
Slashdot links to a report in the New York Times about a project to combine genetic material from lawyering and fund management and create the highest hourly fee known to man.
Richard W. Fields says he has come up with a win-win financial strategy for the downturn. He is investing in lawsuits.
Not in trip-and-fall cases, mind you, but in disputes that are far larger, more costly and potentially more lucrative, often pitting major corporations against each other.
Mr. Fields is chief executive of Juridica Capital Management. which runs a fund that invests in one side of a lawsuit in exchange for a share of any winnings.
It’s like Alien vs Predator: “Whoever wins, we lose.”
The new “un-search engine” Wolfram Alpha beat Google in at least one of my tests:
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Here are some of its answers to other, harder, questions.
Via Clive Davis and thanks to YouTube, Esperanza Spalding plays Stevie Wonder for POTUS [Click the “HQ” button for better quality]:
Actually, it does hurt. It does hurt to ask the wrong way, to ask without preparation, to ask without permission. It hurts because you never get another chance to ask right.
If you run into Elton John at the diner and say, “Hey Elton, will you sing at my daughter’s wedding?” it hurts any chance you have to get on Elton John’s radar. You’ve just trained him to say no, you’ve taught him you’re both selfish and unrealistic.
I hated Oxford and didn’t speak to anyone the whole first term, she says.I hated the way students used big words when plain English would do, how they laughed at things that weren’t funny, and how they spent the day in the library, then lied that they’d done no work. I also thought they’d reject me. I was a homeless kid who’d hung out with a knife-wielding gang just months before.
Tom Freeman doesn’t see the sense in The Times capitalizing the words “Left”, “Right”, and “Centre” when its writers use them to describe political leanings. I think the newspaper is right to do so.
Language is a communication channel, and shouldn’t be a fashion accessory or status symbol; however, in this country, more than many others, it often is. Being the classless geek that I am, I find one good way to think clearly about English usage is to put aside appeals to tradition or authority—not that Tom has made any—and be functional. The question I ask myself when I have to make a choice about a matter like this is:
“Will there be times when my making this distinction helps others to understand what I mean?”
For example, it’s worth insisting that “different” always takes “from”, so that sentences like
“Bob looked different to Alice.”
remain unambiguous in their meaning.
In this case, the “Left/left”, “Right/right”, “Centre/centre” distinctions pass the test. It’s trivially easy to come up with examples:
“Gordon Brown always positioned himself on the left of Tony Blair at full meetings of Cabinet.”
“Nick Clegg was at the centre of a row between two long-opposed factions within the LibDems yesterday evening.”
“When David Cameron confronted last week’s meeting of the No Turning Back group with this apparent contradiction, many observers wondered if he was addressing his question to the right wing of the party.”
Back in the 80s, I used to be in a band with a guy called Martyn Hope—indeed, we went to school together. Back in the 90s, having read that, surreally, Elvis revivalist Shakin’ Stevens was a closet Red1, I went searching online to find out if he was a member of a late 70s cohort of Communist pop stars hailing from Wales. (Green “Scritti Politti” Gartside certainly was one.)
During my search, I was gobsmacked to discover that Martyn was now making a living as Shaky’s lead guitarist. It wasn’t that Martyn in any way lacked the talent for the job; it was just that this was even more surreal a scenario from my point-of-view than Shaky being a revolutionary. I still have a distinct memory as a kid of waking up on a schoolday to Shakin’ Stevens’s Green Door on Mike Read’s BBC Radio 1 breakfast show. Stevens is one of those people—like Celine Dion or Cliff Richard or almost anyone millions of Brits linedance to—who, despite being (because he is?) ignored/despised by hipsters and the mainstream media, sells shedloads of records. Apparently he played Glastonbury last year, though I’m not sure whether that means Shaky is cool now or Glasto is not; as regulars know, I don’t do “cool”, least of all the Glastonbury version of it.
A few weeks ago, Martyn and I got in touch via mutual friends on Facebook. He is a professional musician now and gigs with several bands as well as running an agency for them. Via his profile page, here’s a video to his playing on a track from the quiffmeister’s most recent Polish album [released December 2008]. Martyn is on the right, playing the nice Gibson, and takes a brief solo at about 2’11”. His picking throughout the song is rather more precise than the editing of the video. Martyn himself pointed out that, at the beginning, the drummer’s cymbal moves before he hits it.
The headline above is a lie, as is almost everything in an article in The Daily Mail, fisked here by the British Humanist Association.
You park the team bus outside Anfield on a Sunday and within minutes the wheels are off.
(Now that our improbable “breakthrough” season has officially gone down the tubes, can Villa just return to mid-table mediocrity again, please? I can’t be doing with the misplaced hope.)
[A] bat, seen clinging to the external fuel tank of the Space Shuttle Discovery before its launch on Sunday, apparently clung for dear life to the side of the tank as the spaceship lifted off.
…
The shuttle accelerates to an orbital velocity of 17,500 milers per hour, which is 25 times faster than the speed of sound, in just over eight minutes. That’s zero to 100 mph in 10 seconds.
Did it make it into space? No one knows yet. But photos of Discovery as it cleared the launch tower showed a tiny speck on the side of the tank. When those photos were blown up, it became apparent that the speck was a bat.
Unfortunately, “Brian” is almost certainly an ex-bat.
My 8-year old daughter enters the room.
Millie: Aww, football?! Football is such rubbish.
As the daughter of a life-long Saints supporter she has a point.
Me: That’s true, but it’s not on for long.
A lump of sulk flops down next to me. I try to remember why other teams seem to pass the round white thing on the flat green stuff. I can’t remember. Suddenly the lump of sulk sits bolt upright.
Millie: Daddy, who’s the team playing in silver?
Me: Silver?! Oh, that’s Liverpool.
Millie: They’ve got a girl playing for them!
For a moment I feel like I’ve been transported back to St Mary’s but then I realise it’s not meant as an insult.
Me: A girl? What?
Millie: Look, there, she’s got blonde hair and she’s wearing an alice band!
Me: That’s not a girl, sweetie.
Millie:
Men don’t wear alice bands! Me: Well, actually…
Torres scores – 1-1.
Millie: Look! All the men are trying to cuddle her now, eeewwwww.
Me: No, that’s cos she, I mean HE, just scored a goal.
Millie: They’re cuddling each other because she scored a goal? Oh yuck, that one just kissed her!
Me: She’s not a girl, she’s a bloke!
Millie: Why don’t they just shake hands or something then?
Me: Well, I, errr… I don’t know, they prefer to cuddle, I mean hug… you know what I mean!
Millie: Daddy?
Me: Yes sweetie?
Millie: Do you cuddle people in your team at work when you do something good?
Me: No!
Pause.
Millie: I bet you’d cuddle her if she was in your team.
Me: She is a he! Her name, HIS name, is Fernando Torres.
Millie: Fernando?! Is he the one ABBA sing about?
Me: No, I don’t think ABBA sing any songs about football…
Millie: Pffff, football is such rubbish.
My 8-year old daughter leaves the room.
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