Future blog topics

Ok - they're out there now (as opposed to in my head), so if you're reading this, feel free to vote on what (if any) you're interested in reading:

1. Things I love.
   
2. What songs mean.
   
3. Moments I remember.
   
4. The DLT Collection
   

Some thoughts on Susan Boyle (before it's too late)

Susan Boyle is a firecracker. 

Now before you go and get the wrong ideas about me, I consider the Dove Evolution spot and this week's Domino Pizza fiasco firecrackers, too. 

But that's another post.

I debated even posting this, seeing as there are signs the surfing public is starting to fatigue of Susan Boyle as quickly as they fell in love with her, but I wasn't happy with what I had written about her on a flippant Facebook post. But seeing as you're reading this, you can see what side I came down on in that debate.

If you've been under a rock over the past week, Susan Boyle is the plain, frumpy and perfectly, almost painfully average church lady from Scotland whose stirring rendition of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miserables turned into an instant sensation on Britain's Got Talent.  At the time I wrote this, the term "Susan Boyle" had generated almost 4,000 pages' worth of Google News in less than a week. 

What many people seem amazed by is that such an ordinary person could have such a fantastic voice - a classic "Don't judge a book by its cover" story. 

Susan Boyle was so extraordinary because she was so ordinary. I don't want to take anything away from Susan Boyle - despite a few flubbed notes she does have a great voice and people's response to that voice was indeed genuine. But why should we have thought this woman would embarrass herself? Susan Boyle was only extraordinary within the context and aesthetics of a reality show, which  - given her meteoric rise to fame - have skewed our own ideas about what it means to be truly talented. Our response to Susan Boyle says more about our current cultural values than her own talent for song.

But don't take my word for it, read this instead.

Or this.

iPoem via email

The People.
The Battlecry.
The Mandate.
The Lifestyle.

Thoughts on The Baconator

So much meat, yet so little flavor.

A miracle of modern food engineering.

Disclaimer Time

So, it's occurred to me that now that this thing is getting some legs and more and more people are seeing it, I thought it was best to say that this is a personal blog, that the views contained herein are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer.

Lazy Man Blog Post, number too

Prague's Franz Kafka International Named World's Most Alienating Airport

still more iPoems, two lines only

still find it odd that this hasn't caught on. Maybe if i do it on twitter.

Your Love Your Lies

You've got her in your pocket. You've got everything now.

You've got everything now. You've got a lot of nerve.

You shook me. You send me.

You never wash up after yourself. You never give me your money.

You gotta move. You got to go home.

Welcome to the working week. Welcome to the occupation.

We're the same. We're not alone.

We are all on drugs. We are all alone.

Tukka Root's riddim. Tubas in the moonlight.

Tiny voices, Tiny dancer.

Thought it would be easier. Thought I knew you.

Thou sweet Thorn in my side.

There goes the fear. There goes my gun.

That's not the issue. That's not really funny.

I give up

I'm never going to write as well as the AV Club.

"Craven’s Last House existed in response to the carnage coming back from Vietnam and the sense of disillusionment and nihilism that was rippling through the culture; it’s a little like the Gimme Shelter of horror movies, where even the hippies are driven to savagery."

Why I love The Onion's AV Club

From this week's "My Year of Flops" review: The Love Guru

A smart, talented, accomplished writer-actor like Myers spending years meticulously creating, rehearsing, and refining an obnoxious one-note cartoon like Guru Pitka is a like a group of brilliant scientists working around the clock for a decade to build a malfunctioning fart machine: a surreal waste of time, energy and manpower.

No line, indeed

Dear Bono,

I know you care. No one would doubt that. And hey, I respect that. It takes a lot of guts to care and be seen to care, what with the risk of looking the fool in front of everyone you know. Maybe that's the reason behind those D&G shades.

I know you care because in the liner notes to many of your albums, including your new one, you ask us to support Greenpeace. As we know, Greenpeace is an organization dedicated to preserving and protecting our natural world. One of its tenets is recycling. I know because i went to its web site and looked.

Which is why i was so disappointed with the packaging for your your band's new album, No line on the horizon. As i struggled to release the disc from its protective plastic film, i wondered: Such an innovative band. They care sooooo much. Yet their art comes in such environmentally hostile, not to mention mundane, packaging.

I was disappointed not because I know how many jewel cases end up in landfills each year or how how many toxic chemicals were used to manufacture them. No, I was disappointed because the impression it had on me: that a band so concerned with its image, that understands the power of symbols and simple messages would be so inattentive to this, its most visible product. The medium, it seemed, was at odds with the message contained within.

If it's any consolation, Bono, i really like the new album. Even if the critics apart from the suckups at Rolling Stone are pretty much so-so.