Friday, 15 May 2009

Jesse "The Governing Body" Ventura Kicks Dick Cheney's Ass

Ex-pro wrestler, Navy SEAL and one time Governor of Minnesota Jesse Ventura may seem an unlikely source for withering insight and powerful political commentary...but he is.

Watch below as he wrecks havoc on the terribly flawed Cheney logic on torture and gets the Bush administration in a headlock for good measure.

Finishing move? I'm thinking Jesse gives Dick Cheney the old overhead gutwrench backbreaker rack.

You dig?

Thursday, 14 May 2009

Don McCullin's "In England"






Don McCullin is one of Britain's finest photographers, his images really hit home with me and he has a well deserved exhibition of his work at the National Media Museum, which I urge you all to see if you can and if not, absorb the glory of the pictures above.
"I grew up in total ignorance, poverty and bigotry, and this has been a burden for me throughout my life. There is still some poison that won't go away, as much as I try to drive it out."
Don McCullin.

Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Obama Does Stand-Up

Not only it seems can Obama right the 8 years of wrong caused by the Bush debacle in around 100 days but he's also one of the funniest men on the planet.

Below is Obama's routine at the White House correspondents' dinner, where quite frankly, he smacked it by making jokes about 9/11, race and Bush. After Obama's 8 years in charge, I see a long career making people laugh around the world and not in the way his predecessor did...

Tuesday, 12 May 2009

Bollocking Email

I got an email today from my good friend Kirky, it was an email bollocking regarding my foolish attempted meeting with the racist. I'm publishing it here in all it's glory as a permenant reminder of my idiocy. Thanks Kirky, you're a good friend and apologies for being a tit.
Bro. ..........WTF!!!!

I caught up with your blog last night around midnight and was pretty shocked to discover your recent adventure. Without going into too much detail I thought your actions were naïve, pointless and stupid. This you already know! I’m just confirming you're right!! I just hope you got a good fucking clip off Eva.

The only reason I’m emailing you and not ringing you to bollock you is coz I’ve left my phone at home.

LOVE YOU.
xxxx

Monday, 11 May 2009

Meeting up with a Racist

I did something very foolish indeed on Friday 8th May 2009, something that I shouldn't have done for many, many reasons...but I did and for that I am sorry.

I have been arguing online with a white supremacist called The Sentinel (WARNING: only visit if you are looking for vile, BNP style blame the foreigners type nonsense and anti-semitism; dressed up in grand pseudo-intellectual language), hereafter referred to as the racist.

The 'debates' were taking place at the blog of Renegade Eye, a fine left-wing blog frequented by a raft of right-wing idiots who, I believe, are dragging the blog down with them but I digress...

I had presumed that the racist was based in the US but during one exchange, where he had been pouring over the text to see if he got mentioned, a warning of his self-obsessive, delusional behaviour, he threatened me and suggested that we meet up face-to-face to 'carry on the discussion'.

So I contacted the racist via his blog comments, as he refuses to do email and said that I'd meet him to discuss his racism and daft ideas face-to-face. Call the fuckers bluff I thought to myself and after a bit of his bluster, to my mild surprise, he named a place: The Penderel's Oak, a pub on High Holborn, he said he'd be there on the 8th and 15th May, from 6pm until closing.

I told him that I'd be there on the 8th (the 15th is Eva-Jane's birthday meal, so no can do) but could only stay until about 10 past, as I had to meet my beautiful lady but enough to show I'm not scared of the daft racist and to arrange a second meeting (what I was hoping to achieve I've no idea, this was a move of epic, idiotic proportions).

The racist banged on about doubting I'd come and I kept banging on about looking forward to meeting him, as I was certain that if I went, he would be there, he seemed a determined character and a man of principle, I may not agree with him but the last thing I thought he was was a coward and a liar.

How wrong was I?

Like a twat I actually went and rightly so, Eva and people that care about me were absolutely furious; not only was I perhaps putting myself in jeopardy (who knows what mentalists frequent the Internet, especially if they are thick enough to be racist? I read the story today of the German Internet loon that hacked that man to death over his girlfriend...who he'd never met...) but I didn't tell Eva for fear of her letting her justified feelings talk me out of going.

Anyway, I got there at 17:45 and had a lime & soda and waited...and waited... and waited. 6pm came and went and I eventually left at 18:14 as I said I had to, the racist hadn't turned up. I was genuinely surprised and then it struck me that I had no way of proving I was there or that he wasn't, aside from the details I observed at the pub such as what was on the TV and the description of the person/persons playing the fruit machine directly opposite the bar or the look of the door staff.

And then it struck me what a stupid thing I'd just done to prove a point, what value is that if something had gone wrong? What would that be worth? Never mind all the time wasted 'debating' with these morons, it's alright for them, they have no life but I've got a home and a lovely girl, a great career and so many things to do. What the fuck was I thinking?

Going to meet up with the racist was one of the most stupid things I've ever done but it was a wake-up call, to gain perspective about what a pointless waste of time it is arguing with people on the Internet. Minds will not be changed, nothing will be gained, only precious time lost. I've got better things to do.

On a side note, as expected and rather amusingly, the racist claimed he was there all along and that I didn't show, if only, I was there staring oddly at every lone man that walked in that looked like a racist. Some may have thought I was cruising but Wetherspoon's are not famous for being great places to pick up hot gay men.

I'm going to leave the delusional and mentally deranged to their part of the Internet and get back to writing stuff that Jessica can share with her students in California.

Peace.

Friday, 8 May 2009

Nazi Punks Fuck Off

Dead Kennedys are an awesome band, I own this song on 7" and it comes with an armband that carries the same message as the song. Unfortunately, we still have to tolerate people of this mentality, maybe a song won't change their mind but it's a step in the right direction.

Have a nice weekend.

Thursday, 7 May 2009

BLK JKS in Stokey


I can't believe Eva-Jane and I were going to live in Stoke Newington (or Stokey), glad we just got the T-Shirt and nowt else, it may be up and coming but it's still pikey as fuck and can't beat Bowes Park.

We were there to see our shared favourite band, who were playing Bardens Boudoir, the legendary and beautiful BLK JKS, who I blogged about not too long ago and we had the pleasure of seeing at Cargo in the Summer of 08. The Telegraph have a fine piece here on them, that captures some of their elements.

They are a fine live band, on record their lengthy work-outs are powerful and compelling but live, they have a more visceral edge, reminds me of The Mars Volta, in that performing live, they have the ability to communicate their musical narratives far better than on vinyl; as if by actually being there the shared experience of what they make can be just that.

Molefi Makananise is on bass, standing sentry centre-stage, sometimes eye closed lost in the music, other times wiry and alive sharing grins with the drummer and complaining about people stealing his water.

Tshepang Ramoba is the flurry of arms, cheek and smiles that is the drummer, the wild one, pounding the kit into submission, show boating and intense at the same time; it sometimes feels like he is in charge of the band live: the heart. It is his massive drum work-outs that segue bits together and fill out gaps and it was Tshepang that decided when the gig was over, haughtily getting off his drum stool to barge past Molefi but not after twatting his fret board.

Lindani Buthelezi is the lead singer and guitarist, always looking a bit vulnerable and annoyed, blessed with a fine voice and riffs to die for he feels like the mind of the band, a creative tour-de-force who is at his best when lost in the music he and his brothers are making.

Finally there is Mpumi Mcata and if I have to have a favourite he is it, beautiful in a manly way, he lays down sonic soundscapes and if not standing, playing rhythm guitar with deadly efficiency, he is crouched down over the effects pedals, squeezing every last inch of noise from them, providing a wash of colour and depth to the offerings of the other band members. If Ramoba is a clattering ball of noise stage left, Mcata is the wash of sound stage right.

Eva and I got lost in their brilliant music and went home into the cool night air very, very happy indeed.

Tuesday, 5 May 2009

Slow Dancing to MC Hammer

My cousin Caroline got married on Sunday, to the lovely Mike and Eva-Jane and I were in attendance.

It was a nice wedding, with plenty of weeping and fine food and ales with excellent, pithy speeches by the father of the bride (my marvellous uncle Pete), the groom and of course, the best man (who seemed to have Mike in a constant flux between blushing with his head in his hands and just blushing).

The highlight though was a moment during the legendary wedding disco, where a DJ shouts non-sequiturs into a microphone, mentions the buffet being open and generally plays havoc with your ear drums. My mum was eager to dance but the music was not to her taste and she had no partner, as my father is a militant non-dancer and mentioned to me earlier in the day that if mum made him dance he would feel utterly humiliated.

Then something happened. The DJ slipped on the MC Hammer classic (indeed, the only MC Hammer song of note), "U Can't Touch This" and dad, watching my mum's gloomy face offered to dance with her. Her eyes lit up and they rushed (well, dad hobbled) to the dance floor and then slow danced to one of the worst pop-rap tunes of all time.

These are the moments life is made of.

Friday, 1 May 2009

"Our Band Could Be Your Life"


The Minutemen are one of my favourite bands of all time, not only were they part of the SST hardcore punk rock scene that is the music my heart loves to hear the most, they also have a magic about them is less of the visceral and more of the beautiful.

And as it's May Day, it seems kinda appropriate that punk rocks leading socialists should be celebrated. If you don't own any Minutemen, seriously, get into it, buy every album as they are all killer records and invest in the DVD 'We Jam Econo'.

I'll leave you with some great videos and wishing you all a very happy May Day holiday.







For D. Boon, we miss you.