He is overprivileged and really, really not very bright at all and runs with a rich, fast crowd. He has had a very tough couple of years. Also he's a *teenage* boy. The only surprise here is that he took enough time out of his busy masturbation and plook-squeezing schedule to get to the pub in the summer holidays.
Maybe his dad's treatment worked -- taking him out to a rehab unit and making him listen to addicts.
Or maybe I give it three years before he's out hoovering up Bolivian marching powder in the bogs and "yah, yah"ing with his hooray henry mates at the Met bar. It's nice to know that I will be paying for this.
Huzzah for the civil list.
* * *
Big mwahs to C and M who stopped me making an arse of myself on Saturday with a story which was a bunch of arse. Muchos gracias. I will watch the tape again.
* * *
Oh Merkins, how I adore your president, who is a constant source of amusement in these dark, dark days.
So Dubya chokes on a pretzel. How much longer before we get live, on-air technicolor yawning … la dad Bush? Because I think I would like that.
Actually maybe this whole pretzel thing could be a plan. Perhaps the allied forces could bomb suspected Taliban hideouts with a similar brand of pretzel in the hope that they might all choke to death. Of course, these would be highly targeted and clearly marked with the words "Evil dudes only" in Pashtun, so that there would be no collateral damage. That works so well with the bombs.
Stealth pretzels! Smart snacks!
Oh wait, they don't have American football to watch. Dammit. Besides, I think the Taliban's favourite spectator sports were lashings, stonings and executions, no?
I adored Dubya saying his dogs "showed some concern". How can he tell? Maybe Uncle Dick Cheney taught him that when someone makes the frowny, jowly face, it means Georgie has done a boo-boo.
* * *
Meanwhile, I hear that America has shipped the first of the al-Qaeda/Taliban fighters to Guantanamo Bay in preparation for their trial under military jurisdiction. They have done this by putting them in chainlink cages for the flight and by forcing them to shave off their beards. Their trial and detention is not being covered under the Geneva Convention, on the grounds that these people are not legal combatants, which is, I imagine, news to them.
It strikes me that this is unwise.
Much as I would wish those fanatics out of existence, like NOW, in darker moments, I think that if your foe is a small group of insanely dedicated people who believe you have humiliated their religion and subjugated a whole series of groups they claim as their people who also share that religion (albeit the real version and not some fucked-up, misanthropic parody of it), then it is best not to humiliate them in a way which directly impacts on their religion -- i.e. by shaving their beards off, putting them in cages -- and letting the word get out.
And if you refuse to apply the Geneva Convention to a group of people who a sizeable proportion of the world *do* recognise as soldiers, no matter how they might disagree with that fight, then when *your* soldiers get captured, you cannot expect them to be treated in accordance with the Geneva Convention.
Now the Geneva Convention is no picnic. It doesn't guarantee that your cell TV gets "Sex and the City" and you have sticky buns for tea, but it does stop a modicum of ill-treatment of prisoners and it is recognised widely.
I sympathise with the argument that they don't deserve to be treated as anything other than animals after what they did, both in the US and to their own people, but isn't the thing that marks out a civilised nation that it maintains a certain level of human rights, according to recognised international law, no matter what has been done?
I don't like the US doing this and I dislike my own country's acquiescence to and culpability in it. Our law should be more powerful than their bombs. We're better than this.
* * *
"CAAAAN'T GET OUTA BEEEEEEED" [/The Charlatans]:
I had a fairly unproductive day today. Woke up at 9am, could NOT be arsed to get up until 12. I watched about two hours worth of "House Invaders" (nasty, tacky home makeover show) from a horizontal position. Bad sign. Anyway, I managed to get to the post office by 2pm, where half the cast of EastEnders and a bloke with extremely bad Tourette's Syndrome was in the queue. It smelled of pee and there were three violent slanging matches while I was there. Ah, life's rich tapestry.
Then I went to Homebase since I have to give the car back next weekend. (My dad thinks he's going to get the okay to drive next week, but he is the only one who does) Ye gods and little fishes, I spent too much money, but I needed everything I bought and I could've spent double.
I now have a grout mountain. No tiles yet, since the bathroom has yet to be replaced, but I own more grout than God.
I am on my fourth plumber. The first three didn't turn up. I think if Wide Boy Eddie doesn't turn up tomorrow I shall cry.
[edited 15/01: Eddie is here! I love Eddie.]
I have to pay him in cash so he can cheat the taxman and he's well dodgy. This could all go hideously wrong.
But at the moment my entire living room furniture consists of the new bathroom suite, in boxes, a shelving unit full of videos and the TV. I watch TV sitting on a duvet, leaning against a beanbag and a very large stuffed dog my dad gave me when I was seven.
I know it's eccentric of me, but I think furniture would be nice.
* * *
Having said all that, I watched much TV this evening and the best thing I watched was the XF rerun, Bad Blood. I can understand why people really don't like this ep and why they have issues with Gilligan despite his obvious gifts, but I choose not to analyse right now. I just enjoy it as 'not real' in the same way that Hollywood A.D. is not real.
I love analysis of TV shows/books/films etc. Love it and seek it out and revel in the fact that really smart people can take something I liked/loathed and make me turn it over and over in my hands, studying the seams, admiring the craftsmanship, finding the meaning. But sometimes it is just NO damned fun.
Sometimes it sucks the fun away because you see the flaws without remembering why you liked it so much. I think I've buggered up Harry Potter for myself by thinking about it too much.
Similarly, XF was buggered up for a long time because I was seeing what it used to be through the prism of all the things I don't like about what happened post-season six. But I think I'm getting to the point where I can enjoy things about all seasons again and that is nice.
"Dearest Dana" is still a bag of shite, though.
I DL'ed some stuff from Trust No1 and I think that no one is asking the truly scary question -- why has Scully given birth to Grant Mitchell?
* * *
THE 'ENRY 'IGGINS BIT:
Another excellent programme was on BBC Knowledge, which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite channels. It was all about the evolution of British English from 1980 to the present and how people under 35 have far more fluid accents than the previous generations and the prevalence of estuary english. (I speak a mixture of slightly northern-inflected standard RP and estuary English. Except when I am speaking to my mother when I slip into a real northern accent. Odd.)
My favourite bit was when they contrasted Tony Blair's off-camera speaking voice, which is pure standard RP, against his on-camera speaking voice to show that he "downshifted" his accent for the cameras, inserting the glottal stops that are characteristic of estuary english, using the Australian-influenced Rising Intonation, peppering his English with slang... Off camera? Pure Oxford boy.
(Wanker. Puddle-shallow, hypocritical wanker. I'd vote for someone else but they're worse. )
* * *
I watched the Farscape ep Fractures today. It was very good. Beautifully angsty, lovely D'Argo/John moments, and Aeryn a towering presence for all that she had about six words of dialogue in the entire 45 minutes. Oooh the pain. I loves me a bit o' pain and suffering from fictional characters. It also sets up the final four episodes pretty well.
How, oh how, oh how shall I ever wait until next week for the continuation?
runs away fast.