Are you wide to……. Soap Operas by EB

Your life is rubbish. I’ll say that again, your life is rubbish. So its understandable that you need escapism. Its Regrettable, but understandable. But rather than my usual pseudo-intellectual rants where I pretend that I’m very important and know the key to enlightenment and feed my ego and and and……. Today im going to simply suggest other forms of escapism that are less pathetic and pointless that watching soap operas. 

Here goes (in no particular order): Exercise, Go-Karting, Pornography, Playstation, Paragliding, hide and Seek, Heroin, Reading, S & M, Sport, Alcohol, Writing silly articles for a website, Night courses in Reiki, auto-erotic asphyxiation, pet ownership, hunting, social interaction, WWF wrestling, feeding the birds in the park, doing the washing up, experimenting with fire, dogging, shop lifting, downloading movies, downloading songs, putting all the cushions on the floor and pretending to be In gladiators. Sodomy, pizza, cigarettes, self-harm, cow-tipping, genocide, holidays, gambling, making scones, eating scones and finally suicide.

Seriously, anything’s got to be better than the bullshit that is eastenders, corrie, hollyoaks, neighbours, Home & away, el dorado and emmer dale farm. Utter fucking tosh.

Are you wide to……….The Price of Misinformation? by EB

Information is one of the most valuable tools of our society. It must be agreed that television is the greatest media tool in terms of both comfort and ease of access. I realise the Irony of conveying this message through an alternate medium, however the point must be made. In Ireland we have a state broadcaster- RTE. RTE provide a government funded state broadcasting network. Great! And we pay a tax for such a service. Fair enough. But there’s two problems:

1. They commercially advertise.

They force product onto to you, the consumer, to make money to fund their programmes. Now a lot of TV companies will do that, but we don’t pay Bravo, ITV, Virgin 1, TV3 and UK living €160 for the privilege. RTE get a personal donation from each household and business in the country, yet still whore themselves out to the likes of Harry Corry, Nike and Cilit Bang. Is our money not enough. How much does it take to run a tv station? Especially one who’s original programming looks like it was made on a nokia 5310 with a cast of presenters and actors who were (mis)fortunate enough to be in the dole office that day, Which brings me to my second point.

2. RTE is unashamedly Crap.

I mean really, really crap. With all the production value of a transition year project and the talent roster of a Heroin addiction support group it is a wonder the RTE brass don’t pay us to watch this nonsense. After all, state broadcasters have to follow their mandate to reflect the “climate of the Republic”. Even the news, the only thing it is very difficult to make a balls of, smacks of amateurism genetically spliced with Fianna Fail Cronyism, the catalyst for which being Anne Doyle’s Peroxide. If I’d know all I had to do was hang around in Donny and Nesbitt’s for a few weeks and I’d be offered a job as head of Current affairs, or chief Cable operator on Fair City then I’d have never bothered with the painstaking years of college being forced to go without Sky and having to spend my days with RTE’s pathetic (CHEAP) imports of terrible shows like Dr. Phil, Shortland Street and re-re-re-re-repeats of Murder She wrote (although it was great the first 3 times).

I don’t watch RTE. Ever. Not even sport. Why would I pay to see alcoholics make fools of themselves. I can get the drunk around the corner to dance for two cigarettes and a can of Lynden village. But I still have to pay a licence. It kills me. Id rather go through childbirth, while having Marty Whelan’s face tattooed on my scrotum, drinking domestos and trying to have semi-consensual sex with a porcupine. Bloody RTE. Bloody TV licences.

Sensationalism. by Frank Lee

Sensationalism is how we organise our news. Each month we have a new concern that we must dread. I first recall this dread machine with the AIDS scare. We were all to die if we went within ten yards of an infected person. This pestilence would wipe out the human race within ten years. Of course, it didn't quite happen as planned. We're all still alive, surprise, surprise. But the scares persist; drugs, weapons of mass destruction, guns, bird flu. The list continues but mankind's population keeps exploding, so somehow the attrition of these scares is minimal. No end to wars, huge famines, car crashes, terrorism, State or otherwise, have barely dented the exponential growth of the human race. Onward we race, six billion and growing. Maybe obesity will be our saving grace, killed of by over indulgence on cream buns and burgers. Yes, newspapers and other media outlets have sensationalised obesity and anorexia, the list continues. On top of all this we have the fear of fear itself.

How sad can you get? Whilst this sensationalism continues we ignore real problems, such as the dire state of fashion these days. One only need look at the design of shirts this last decade, drabness personified. Also the uniform look of all fashions; “designer” worn out jeans and drab polo shirts. Yes we have a lot to fear. Not an overcrowded world, but a world that has no differences; same food, same clothes, same cars, same music. Same BRANDS. What a nightmare. So stop this crap. Who cares that Jordan has three tits! So what if David Beckham is screwing around. Who cares? Each village should have their own celebrity, who would be the bearer of local fashion, (iconography at home), that each locality could relate to. Let us kill off the brands with their complete boredom and lack of style and originality. Not sensationalism but individuality. Instead of international rules, each county has it's own rules for sport, driving laws, etc. lets go local.

Are you wide to……Irish Drunks?

Why is it that we as a nation, cannot sit down with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer and enjoy each others company? Why is it necessary for us to drink two litres of cider and/or vodka? Sure, its terrible fun drinking till you pass out and vomit a strange blueish yellow colour of liquid. My god, you look good when this happens. Well, maybe when your 16 and that rainbow of vomit signifies to everyone that, yes, you were drinking. You are the man.

Now, you’ve grown up. Have the lessons of years gone by been forgotten? Quite possible, considering your inability to regulate your devil juice intake. We still drink ourselves into a state of George Best type stupidity. Am I Guilty of such acts of lunacy? Of course I am. However, through the wisdom of the ages I have come to realise that stealing a traffic cone at 2 in the morning or falling asleep against a wheelie bin are not the be all and end all of a good nights fun. Maybe I'm old-fashioned that way.

If those of you who believe that a drunken stupor is the bees knees (really showing my age and geekiness here) then I suggest you film your exploits on your next adventure. I can guarantee that some modicum of shame will swell up inside you. That swell is shame....not vomit. The sight of yourself with your inhibitions in tatters and fighting over a spilled drink will not endear yourself to yourself. Also the sight of a doorman throwing you out for falling down the stairs and or accidentally head butting a lady on the dance floor ,should reinforce your desire to .maybe stay home next Saturday. Good idea.

Are you wide to................Writer's block

Well I am. The beast, which besieges us conveyors of opinion, can strike at any time. It inhibits you, entangling all bursts of imagination. Frustration inevitably ensues which only serves to prolong the frustration and lead to bouts of staring at the cursor in vain………….

I’ve just returned from grooming myself as a result of the aforementioned frustration. Its hard writing interesting crap for my loyal readers. Although the vast majority of you who began reading this have probably given up and returned to looking at porn, youtube or youporn. The rest who remain reading are incredibly bored or cannot access any other websites. Writers block anyway. Its like erectile dysfunction from what I’ve read. You really want to write. I mean really really want to do it. Its an attractive subject your about to tackle and you’ve been thinking about it for ages. You get to the point where you’ve got a naked word document in front of you. The cursor is winking as if to say “I’m ready; put your fingers on the keyboard and lets get going”. 

"Sure, I look cool but Ive been staring at that lamp for 6 hours"

The writer just stares and nothing happens. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s a depressing feeling. A feeling of embarrassment and shame. This block is only over when the pressure is relieved. After this release, the desire and ability to spurn out any old crap to my readers returns. Anyway, apparently it happens to most men, I mean writers.  

Are you wide to............ Supermarkets?

"Mmm....frozen wookie"

Of course you are. What a ridiculous question. What I refer to is the little routines we go through when traversing this labyrinth of dam fine deals. Shelf after shelf of foods, all scrambling for my attention. I say attention, of course I mean wallet.

Supermarket design is also something inexplicitly universal. Why am I always immediately met head on with carrots and aubergines? I have absolutely no idea why fruit and veg is at the forefront of supermarkets push for profit. If these companies wished to increase their profits then perhaps consider moving the alcohol aisle from the end of the store to the beginning. God knows that the sight of mood altering substances would put us in a better frame of mind when undertaking the task of shopping. Shopping in the incorrect frame of mind can result in many frozen goods being purchased. Nobody likes frozen pizza, peas or even chips. Stop fooling yourself. Fresh food trumps all.

Ah fresh food. Remember the days of free samples being handed out in the aisles. Comely maidens

cooking up and dishing out treats for the family. Many an hour has been spent lurking behind shelves waiting for the right moment to strike. The right moment being the time after the food is cooked but before its all gone. A delicate balance. Alas, these days are no longer. Greedy corporate giants now expect us to buy our own food. Dam you capitalism. I want my free sample(s).

The supermarket experience has changed in the years since my youth. For one, where the hell has the music gone? In the past some inane melody usually wafted through the trolley aisles bent on making you go stir crazy. It usually worked and many people couldn't wait to escape via aisle 2. In recent years however, supermarkets have coped on to the fact that the longer someone stays in their food emporium, the more money they are likely to spend. Money before inane music. Bah! I'm not saying I liked the music but it was all part of the experience. Its like mass without Jesus bread or drinking excessively without making an ass out of yourself. They go together. These formulae should not be trifled with.

Supermarkets these days, especially the German ones (you know who you are) bring an air of sterility to the wonderful shopping trip. Silence, coldness and the sound of other people shuffling between bargains are now the inane music of the present.

?

And then there's the checkout. That conveyor belt of freedom. But you'll pay for that freedom. The silent nod with the checkout girl. And its always a girl. Why is that? Are men not capable of waving things in front of a scanner thingy? Ill have you know that I'm quite capable of waving my things about.

Then the death knell that reinforces your hatred for this place. “That'll be 75 cents”. Those hippys are charging me for using non-biodegradable bags! What is this, communist China? All because I didn't have the foresight to bring my own. Should I be punished for my extreme lack of common sense? I think not. I should be given a medal of some sort. Preferably platinum with diamond inlay. …....what was I saying.  

Are you wide to………..Whats on the shelves in your local DVD shop/torrent

Not everyone was excited about 3d porn

1.Cloverfield: The Godzilla flick for the Youtube generation. JJ Abrahams vomit inducing movie, utilises the first person Handycam perspective, which leads the viewer to wonder why they would put themselves through such an experience. The POV film has it roots in the Blair Witch corner where we are at the mercy of the shaky hand of one of the lead protagonists. Short movie, that wont tax the brain too much and will make you look hard in front of the missus when you don’t get scared at the big bad monster.

2. Rambo: Having defeated the Viet Cong and Communism single-handily, Stallone is back in his trade mark bandana sticking it to Burmese Junta. He kills, maims and then kills some more in his latest incarnation, racking up an impressive 236 kills. This man has some serious blood on his hands. Don’t expect intricate plots combined with Oscar winning performances. Instead we’re greeted with images of a once great hero, now aged 60, pulling off kills, that a man half his age wouldn’t contemplate. Terrible movie, but you’ll definitely watch it if you grew up with these films, and yearn for the days when men were men and women needed to be rescued. Please God don’t make another one.

3. No Country for Old Men: Rent this movie NOW. That is all.

4. Jumper: Mediocre sci-fi flick that sees Hayden Christianson (You remember, he ruined Star Wars with his portrayal of Darth Vadar) adorned with the ability to teleport anywhere in the world. Madness and some impressive action sequences ensue with Sam Jackson proving, once again, that he WILL take any role. If I had a super power, it would be the power of invisibility……. I’m watching you NOW!

5. Semi-Pro: Apparently the producers of this movie walked into the studio and said: “Will Ferrell plays basketball”. They were promptly issued with several million dollars to make this Ferrell comedy, which will provide the odd laugh but nothing on the scale of the legendary Anchorman. C’mon Will, when the hell is Burgandy making a comeback? I love lamp.

6. There Will be Blood: Name one film Day-Lewis was in, that wasn’t good? I dare ya! Plus it won a wheelbarrow load of Oscars. Get it now.