MonthJuly 2007

“Super”

I did the shopping today, since I’m at home enjoying some employment-free time.

It’s a good thing you can’t really RAGEQUIT supermarkets, because otherwise I’d have been home much earlier.

See, I hate supermarkets, me. And I don’t mean, “I dislike going to the supermarket”, I genuinely hate it. Take the kind of idiocy you see in Auckland driving, multiply it by ten, add hand-pushed carts, and then you get my personal supermarket experience. I can’t go there without some scarce-evolved simian gruntingly, their eyes crossed with the effort, producing one of the following classic supermarket thougts:

– Know what’s cool? Sloowww walking. That’s what’s cool. Myep.
– Right here in the middle of the aisle is the perfect place to stop my cart, look into the middle distance, and just .. think a happy thought.
– I reckon if I stand to one side, or a bit back, from the shelves full of a really popular product (like, say, Milk) then Wolves Will Eat Me. Best if I just stand as much in front of it as I can while I choose which of the hundreds of identical bottles to put in my cart. Because, man, who wants to be Eaten By Wolves? Not me, that’s who. Fuck you, Wolves!
– That big hairy guy keeps crashing his trolley lightly into mine, staring unblinkingly at me, and repeating “Excuse me, Please.” … I wonder what he wants. I guess I will NEVER KNOW. Well, this middle distance won’t stare at itself! Back at it!

There’s a dark core to my hate for supermarkets. There’s layers to it. There’s facets.

Brother Ali

I switched on the TV today, planning to watch an episode of James May’s 20th Century over lunch, and up came Alt TV. Just as I was reaching out to change the input on the amp over to the media player .. the bassline and vocals of whatever the hell Alt was playing slithered into my head and started dancing on my brain.

“Hang on a sec”, I said to Annette, “.. what .. is this?”

I stood by the TV, doing the official generic dance move that suits all Hip-Hop .. it may have a real name, but I call it the Whole Body Nod.

“Okay, wait, I need to google some of these lyrics.”

I made a note of some memorable passages and then went back to watch James May hilariously being James May as hard as he could, and to eat my lunch. After that, right back to Google…

So the song in question was “Uncle Sam, Goddamn” by an artist known as “Brother Ali”. And if you’re a fan of old school soul and funk influenced beats and lyrics that don’t mention bitches and bling .. I HIGHLY recommend you take a listen to this mans work. I plan to buy all his CDs, based on this one song.

JSR OUT

And thus ends my thrilling adventure into the exciting world of Sales! And also my current lengthy run with ICONZ. I tendered my resignation today, it was accepted, and they’re walking me on friday. I thought they’d walk me today, but NAY.

So, now I need to get my shit together and find a new gig. And NOT a sales gig. Fortunately the NZ economy is humming right now, and we’re in the middle of a shortage of experienced tech workers. So there’s ample scope for goodies.

Once again, I’m more interested in a cool job then a suck one, even if the suck one pays more!

Sects Appeal

“The Ministers’ Association is so worried about the growth in “potentially deceptive psychic influences” in the town that it has warned parishioners against dabbling in the dark arts.

After hearing a spiritual channeling event was organised by a local woman, the association wrote to its flock about its concern about an “upsurge in mediums, channelings and so forth in town”.

Yeah. They’re worried like a meth dealer gets worried when a crack house opens down the block.

This is a good bit:

“But the Matamata clergy is not charmed. “We just want to make our position clear that we should put our trust in God,” said Lewis. “Seeking to be guided by the spirit world and dabbling in things like this could get out of control.”

This stuff just hurts my head, you know.

Put your trust in a triumvite God/Jesus/Holy Ghost creator, you fools! Not in this wishy-wasy The Spirit World!

Or maybe, “Don’t Meddle With The Spirit World, Except In An Approved Manner!”

Oh, and on your way home, watch out for Trolls under the bridge, and be sure to ward off any Fairie Folk that may be hovering over your home, turning your child into a changeling. The child will still look the same, of course. THAT’S HOW YOU CAN TELL.

For Fucks Sake, Tithe! TITHE LIKE THE WIND!

Less than meets the eye

I thought I’d go see the Transformers movie.

A few of you are, right now, going “Well, Duh. You’re a geek. It’s a transformers movie. Of fucking course you’re going to see it.” except that you’re wrong – I could have given it a miss .. and may yet still.

The problem is that I’m an OLD geek. I’m closer to 40 than 30 now. When I was a kid, watching cartoons, it was the 70’s, not the 80’s.

I think the Transformers movie where Optimus Prime dies was relased in 1986. I wasn’t watching cartoons in 1986. At all. I spent much of 1986 either sulking my room hacking on pacnet with my Amiga and modem, avoiding my parents and wondering how other people at school managed to talk to actual girls without sounding like a complete spaz[1], sulking in the garage while tinkering with the engine of my car[2], or driving said car aimlessly around town at 3.00am[3] on a school night while obsessively listening to tapes of various bands whose names were prefixed with “The”[4]

Main point is, wasn’t watching cartoons.

So, to gear up for this possible Big Robot Movie viewing, I decide to illegally pirately download some communism in the form of classic transformers episodes and watch them. This was not a good idea. They suck. A lot. I’m pretty sure that even an 8 or 10 year old me wouldn’t have watched this. And I remember watching and liking Battle of the Planets, so you know it’s not good.

So, lesson learned. Not only should you not attempt to recapture your own youth, you shouldn’t try to retcon other peoples youth into your head.

And I’m still not sure if I’m going to go see the Transformers movie.

[1] Still don’t know.
[2] 1967 850cc Morris Mini, dark blue body, white roof, florescent pink wheels. Yes, pink. Shut up!
[3] Know what there was to do in Timaru at 0300 in 1986? Nothing. Except drive around randomly.
[4] The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Sisters of Mercy, The Smiths, and also featuring some misc non-“The” bands.[5]
[5] Dreadful 80’s pop bands like Duran Duran and whatnot. I’m not going to mention them.