What kills a skunk is the publicity it gives itself

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today i was reading a magazine and i came upon this advert. after about ten minutes of stuttering surprise/terror i forced everyone in my vicinity to look at it too. it’s like a ‘spot how many thing are wrong with this picture’ competition. only with added moral indignation.

1) if (as in the ‘context’ of the ad) it’s his mother it’s wrong
2) if it’s not his mother , it’s still wrong
3) her pose
4) his face
5) SHE’S COMPLETELY DRY!!

do i need to go on? if this exact advert had been made with a naked adult man and an eight year old girl in the doorway would it ever have been printed? that said i’m stunned this was ever printed…

i would love to have been at the boardroom meeting where they a) decided that this was a good advertising strategy and b) decided that this was a good advertising strategy for TOOTHPASTE!!!

the mind is boggling as we speak….

Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories

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ive been reading the collector by john fowles this week and found it to be one of those annoying books that was brilliant until halfway then bored the shit out of me the rest of the way. concerning a butterfly collector who kidnapps a woman and keeps her captive in his basement the first part of the book is written from his perspective. i found this section of the book to be engrossing, well written and enjoyable but halfway through the book switches to the females persepective and – GOES BACK TO THE START OF THE STORY! to say i found this annoying would be an understatement. i wouldn’t have minded so much if it had been interspersed chapter by chapter (allthough i probably still would have skim read a lot of the girl’s stuff as i find her a much less interesting narrator) but to have to go back to the start again really ruined the pace of the book for me. it took quite a bit of effort to finish it after this point but i did stick with it until the end.
not a bad book, but not a great one either.

I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol

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apparantly there is a big screen adaptation of fast food nation on the way staring amongst others avril lavigne and ethan hawke! from what i can tell it seems like it’s going to be dramatised (judging by the ‘character’ names on imdb) which i can’t quite get my head around. i assume that since the michael moore explosion and docu-films like supersize me the director is trying a new angle with this – however, having read fast food nation i’m pretty stumped as to how it can be done this way and have any bearing on the book. we shall see, this is often how brilliant things happen and i may be forced to eat my words…

(along with my fries)

If this were really happening, what would you think?

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“When dancing, lost in techo trance, arms flailing, gawky Bez, then find you snagged on frowns, and slowly it dawns, you’re jazzing to the bleep tone of a life support machine that marks the steady fading of your day old baby daughter. And when midnight sirens lead to blue flash road mash, stretchers, covered heads and slippy red macadam, and find you creeping ‘neath the blankets, to snuggle close a mangle bird, hoping you soon too will be freezer drawed. Then welcome. Mmm, ooh chemotherapy wig. Welcome. In Jam, Jam, Jam, Jam, Jaaaaam. ”

i’m in the middle of a chris morris binge at the moment. it started by listening to jam & blue jam in bed (a sure root to weird, weird dreams) then watching the dvd of brass eye and i’m now making my way through the day today (which as a sidenote is putting me in the mood to start watching alan partridge from the start again too)

chris morris is a genius.

jam is one of the darkest creepiest most fucked up corners of comedy ever to exist. the day today and brass eye are that + satire = supernewsbrilliancehumour. or something. they move so fast i know i’m missing ten jokes in every scene because i’m too busy laughing at the name austin tassletine. the stockmarket report on the day today is one of the funniest things i’ve ever seen.

and then there is chris morris dressed as jarvis cocker singing a song about myra hindley containing the lyrics:

“Every time I see your picture, Myra/I have to phone my latest girlfriend up and fire her/And find a prostitute who looks like you and hire her/Oh, me oh Myra.”

need i even mention ‘paedogeddon’?

like i said:

genius.

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Eeeny meeny miny mo

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weLL lookey, LOOKeY i got myself ALL tagged Up!

i’ve put a ‘tag cloud’ in the sidebar because for some reason i find them irrisistable and always end up playing with them for ages on other peoples blogs and had to have one of my own.