Popularity Contests
Our sceptered isle wept in grief today, as the lovable ex-political correspondant John Sergeant announced he was bowing out from Strictly Come Dancing. It’s understandable since as far as I can gather viewers have been voing for him simply to see him lurch around the dancefloor like Frankenstein’s christmas turkey, though that’s based on the Metro’s description of his choreography. Leader of the Shadow Cabinet David Cameron was quoted as saying:
Strictly will not be the same without him. The nation will not have the same spring in its step on a Friday night.
Er, wait. What?
Yes, Cameron’s jumped on another bandwagon, and I think he’s just panicking and picking them at random these days. I particularly like how he shows off being on first-name terms with Britain’s finest waste of a Friday night, showing a level of familiarity the average forty five year old female hairdresser would find creepy.
But this isn’t even a new low for Mr. Cameron on his quest to become London’s cuddliest Tory. Remember the excruciating WebCameron?
I’d be worried about Mr. Cameron’s determination for the common public to love him before he and his cronies rape them like it’s 1983 all over again, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s hilariously bad at it and still comes off as that R.E. teacher pathetically desparate for his kids to like him. I’m fairly certain this whole thing’s going to come to a head in a few years when he finally snaps and we find him on a dead male prostitute wearing a suit made of Boris Johnson’s flayed flesh like out of off of Silence of the Lambs. As all the best political careers end.
Ethniclisted
So I was looking for a process manager for my lovely N78 on the official Nokia repository when I spotted the handy Advanced Call Manager:
“Advanced Call Manager for Symbian S3 – With Advanced Call Manager you can organize your phone book into custom lists like Black (people you don’t like to disturb you) and White (important people which are “allowed” to call you)”
Errr… okay…
Now, I’m aware the fact that I noticed this says more about me than Advanced Call Manager, but hey, when IS somebody going to make an app so I can text burning crosses to ethnic friends?
edit: On the web page linked, it’s actually under the “Functionality” header, it’s only the summary when you access it through a Nokia phone.
Geek Fight!
Charlie Brooker’s zombie opus Dead Set hit UK TV sets last week, to fairly universal acclaim. He might be on to something – screen the whole thing across a week and get it finished before the trendies realise they’re watching something popular and trigger a backlash.
Simon Pegg, geeky mastermind of Shaun of the Dead fame (and slightly less internationally well known sitcom, Spaced) printed his response to the series in Brooker’s own stomping ground, the Guardian. To summarise, it’s an interesting if painfully respectful critique of “angry” zombies. Even if you’ve not seen Dead Set – which I wholeheartedly recommend you do, if you’re that way inclined – the article is a bloody interesting history of the zombie flick. I’m with Pegg on this one, incidentally. Zombies shouldn’t run.
Brooker’s response to the response was swift, floating like a butterfly, and stinging like… well, also a butterfly. Again, salient points, well argued, and incredibly candid in admiration of the work of Pegg. The whole thing gives me the impression of watching two championship boxers step into the ring, square off, and promptly collapse on each other in a loving embrace. But then, so many things make me think of that.
It’s lovely that both Brooker and Pegg respect each other’s work so much. It’s just this would be a much more interesting post if they could stop flouncing and arrange a bitch fight of some sort.
69 Uses for a Failed Vice President
…and I use that mostly because it sounds a bit like a list, and you get about three times the readership. So, maybe three people.
What do you do with an ex-beauty queen vice presidential candidate after she’s been publically rejected for being a scary fundie? Screw her on camera, obviously, an offer of $2 million coming from “The King of Milfs”. I’d have thought MILFs would be a barony at best, serving under an autocratic plutarchy.
As much as her attraction is debatable and is, indeed, debated this all makes her a prime candidate for cashing in on it, and hey, if hubby gets involved they get a snowmobile! Wow! Bet she’s looking forward to throwing some really huge snowballs. Ugh.
Anyone who thinks this is the first time a senior Republican party member has appeared in pornographic publications clearly hasn’t spotted John McCain on lemonparty.org (soooooo nsfw). I’m still wondering if her daughter’s still got to marry the redneck that knocked her up now her mum’s not going to be president. That would suck.
Lovely LittleBrooker
I love Charlie Brooker. As I grew from a spotty, games-obsessed teenager into borderline anarchist whiny liberal, he grew with me, holding my hand as we progressed together from swearing together about Lara Croft’s tits to swearing about idiots complaining about swearing on TV. And then to swearing on TV about swearing on TV. Brooker’s probably the only guy who could have this career and look clever, I swear.
His Guardian column’s a regular joy; I read today’s article on the Russell Brand / Jonathan Ross debacle with relish. And mayonnaise. Yum.
“So it’s here at last. The dawn of the dumb has broken in earnest”.
“Perhaps next week [The Daily Mail] will produce a free sheet of asterisk stickers for readers to plaster over their own genitals, lest they catch sight of them in a mirror and indignantly vomit themselves into a coma.”
Fuckin’ yeeeeaaahhhhh.
“If something as sublime and revolutionary as Python came along today, the Mail would try to kill it stone dead, and it’d rope in thousands of angry old idiots to help, all of them bravely marching to the Ofcom website to register their disgust. What a rush. Feel that pipsqueak throb of empowerment coursing through your starched and joyless veins! You’ve crushed some fun, and it feels good to be alive!”
Yeah, fuck you, Daily Mail! We’ll teach you not to create straw men arguments… to… further… your… agenda…?
Hold on, something’s not right here. I don’t enjoy righteous irrational hatred of imaginary causes, that’s Richard Littlejohn and his audience. Which is when it hit me. Dawn of the Dumb. Political Correctness Gone Mad. Jesus, Brooker’s turning into Littlejohn’s opposite number.
It’s the exasperation at idealised caricatures of their pariah of the day, feeding on their own fury as they not only spill bitter condemnation for the crimes the smug bastards thought they could get away with, but appropriate verbal thrashing is given for the crimes thay haven’t done but I bet the bastards would, wouldn’t they? Yeah, I know. It’s a joke. But read that again, and tell me you’re certain he didn’t want to leave the impression that they’d like to ban comedy. Fucking They. It’s fucking Political Correctness Gone Mad.
I know, there’s a difference between the directed xenophobia of the right-wing press and Brooker’s charming grumpy old man routine. I just really hope he’s not going to turn into the liberal figurehead for directing inordinate bile at the faceless, evil conservatives. Because I love you Charlie; but I fucking hate Littlejohn more.
