Originally posted on Deadjournal
9am on Saturday morning, first into the library is our resident computer enthusiast, a man whose main claim to fame is a recent appearance on Jeremy Kyle. We aren’t entirely sure what it was about, having only learned about it through some kids taking the piss. Seems a little beyond the librarian/reader relationship to quiz him on whether Jezzer told him he was a terrible father, a slimy love rat, or a mixture of the two. A colleague looked into acquiring the episode online, but the only way to do this is to watch an entire series until we find the one he’s in. Frankly, life is too short.
First teen to appear, around 9.10am, shall be called X. She is resplendent in grey tracksuit and fluorescent yellow eyeshadow, piled above a thick layer of black eyeliner and several coats of mascara. She’s toned down the blusher lately, perhaps in response to a negative comment from one of the boys on her ‘permanent beamer’. She was up at 8am apparently, and had pizza for breakfast. This is the kind of thing that makes me wonder how much of the bad behaviour we see is diet-related. Someone should get Jamie Oliver on the case.
Next on the scene (9.20ish) is a fellow of 14, who requires a shot on the PS3. As he reclines upon the comfy sofa playing Fifa '09 on the indecently large plasma, he engages in witty banter with the young lady, who is checking her Bebo. It transpires she is also on msn, talking to the gentleman’s sometime-girlfriend.
“ASK HER,” he bellows at a volume some traditionalists might consider unreasonable for this setting, “IF SHE’S MEETIN ME LATER. I THOUGHT SHE WASN’T BUT NOW I THINK SHE MIGHT BE.”
To the untrained ear this assumption may seem baseless, but it makes sense to the girl, who taps something in before thundering back,
“SHE’S NO SURE. Why’re you goin oot wi hur?”
“Ah’m doin it fur Liam,” he explains, “cuz he’s goin oot wi hur mate.”
What a lucky lady.
“SHE KENS THAT’S WHY,” he adds as an afterthought.
I feel old.
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Chocolate.
You're never too old or too agnostic to celebrate Easter by smashing boiled eggs in the back garden.This is Lauren from Hollyoaks egg, created by my brother.
Pretty hard to tell the difference between her and the real thing, non?
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Boys and Girls Alone
Originally 'Sobbing Gingers' on Deadjournal
Boys and Girls Alone. Have you seen it? I have. It's hugely entertaining. But apparently it is also child abuse, which is a shame.
For those who haven't seen the show, the premise is Lord of the Flies. They put a load of boys in one settlement* on their own, and a load of girls about a mile away on their own, and left them to it.
So it isn't 'Child Called It' style abuse, where the children are starved, locked in cupboards and soundly beaten at regular intervals, but Cornwall Children's Services Authority maintain that during the course of the programme, “some of the children were greatly distressed and this in our view is abusive."
Seriously though? Children are always upset about something. They thrive on it. These kids get upset by all sorts of things, bawling their eyes out about absolutely sweet FA for ten minutes, and getting over it almost instantly. In the second episode, the boys all ganged up against one lad on the grounds of a fictional murder attempt for nearly a whole several hours before forgetting about it entirely and pooling their money to go bowling together.
"This distress has now been publicly broadcast to all of these children's peers and is therefore likely to have long-term consequences for some of them."
That's true, and something we did actually wonder about when watching it. All of those kids have done something that will probably get them ripped on in school. There again, they've all given their consent, as have their parents (who are watching their every move on cameras close by). So maybe this will teach them the 'making your own bed' cliché, and they'll know not to be so naïve next time channel 4 approaches them to participate in a 'sociological experiment'. Mind you, the feedback the channel had back from those involved was quite positive. But they would say that, the exploitative, money-grabbing bastards.
"In addition, given the current national concerns in relation to the safeguarding of children in this country, it is in our view highly irresponsible for Channel 4 to broadcast a programme which demeans and to some extent demonises children and thus reinforces negative public perceptions of children and their vulnerability.”
All this programme does to demonise children is to show them how they actually are. Sometimes they are moody, and selfish, and do nasty or ill-advised things without thinking about the consequences. Other times they are brave, considerate, kind, clever and funny. The idea that showing them as vulnerable is negative seems odd to me - I think it helps to remember that they are kids, susceptible to things they see on the street or on telly, and that before demonising them you ought to have a crack at offering some kind of guidance. But it also points out that excessive mollycoddling is equally unhelpful, because it means they don't do things for themselves, and might prove daft enough to take sweets from the nice stranger in the beige mac.
The Times online reports that one child psychologist says “There is deliberate torment by adults of children in obvious distress,” which isn't true - when the kids have been upset, most of the parents have leapt in to see them. Another professional throws in her two cents with the logical leap that, "If you put children together, unsupervised, as sure as day follows night, there will be bullying... How much worse will it be for them to know they have been bullied in front of the whole nation?”
I dunno, 48.739%? Children are together unsupervised every day, and bullying goes on unchecked every day. They all know that bullying is bad, but continue to do it. If anything, seeing it happen on telly in front of their faces is going to make them aware of the effects. Because lets be honest, there is a wide range of behaviour that constitutes bullying, and I know of cases where the bullying kids have genuinely not considered themselves to be bullying. They see it as self defence or joining in with a 'joke' other kids are making, whilst the other party goes home in tears. Point is, they're not adults, and they haven’t got a very developed sense of empathy. Maybe showing them will help.
Their lack of adult-ness also makes their treatment negligent, it has been argued, because most of them can't cook or look after themselves. Course, that was the reason a lot of parents allowed them to take part - to teach them that they actually have life pretty easy, with people to do all that stuff for them. However, the adults were entertainingly perturbed when both communities took the view that those who could cook should only do so for themselves - or in the girls' case only for their house - leaving the others (some only eight) to fend for themselves. Having watched this they swooped in to lecture their offspring on the importance of looking out for people who are younger than you, taking responsibility, caring, sharing etc. So it's not as if they swanned off on holiday and deliberately left the kids to it, which the word negligent seems to imply.
I can't conclusively say whether there will be negative long-term ramifications for the kids who did this show. It seems possible. But I don't think any of them are going to slide into drug addiction or other life ruining chaos as a result of taking part in a documentary. And I hope Channel 4 do get to show the rest of it, not least because I want to know the outcome of the much hinted-at love story of eight year old Maddie and nine year old William next time when the two groups get to meet each other. My money's on them eloping, and giving OK! the exclusive interview.
*a pair of very nice country houses in Cornwall
Boys and Girls Alone. Have you seen it? I have. It's hugely entertaining. But apparently it is also child abuse, which is a shame.
For those who haven't seen the show, the premise is Lord of the Flies. They put a load of boys in one settlement* on their own, and a load of girls about a mile away on their own, and left them to it.
So it isn't 'Child Called It' style abuse, where the children are starved, locked in cupboards and soundly beaten at regular intervals, but Cornwall Children's Services Authority maintain that during the course of the programme, “some of the children were greatly distressed and this in our view is abusive."
Seriously though? Children are always upset about something. They thrive on it. These kids get upset by all sorts of things, bawling their eyes out about absolutely sweet FA for ten minutes, and getting over it almost instantly. In the second episode, the boys all ganged up against one lad on the grounds of a fictional murder attempt for nearly a whole several hours before forgetting about it entirely and pooling their money to go bowling together.
"This distress has now been publicly broadcast to all of these children's peers and is therefore likely to have long-term consequences for some of them."
That's true, and something we did actually wonder about when watching it. All of those kids have done something that will probably get them ripped on in school. There again, they've all given their consent, as have their parents (who are watching their every move on cameras close by). So maybe this will teach them the 'making your own bed' cliché, and they'll know not to be so naïve next time channel 4 approaches them to participate in a 'sociological experiment'. Mind you, the feedback the channel had back from those involved was quite positive. But they would say that, the exploitative, money-grabbing bastards.
"In addition, given the current national concerns in relation to the safeguarding of children in this country, it is in our view highly irresponsible for Channel 4 to broadcast a programme which demeans and to some extent demonises children and thus reinforces negative public perceptions of children and their vulnerability.”
All this programme does to demonise children is to show them how they actually are. Sometimes they are moody, and selfish, and do nasty or ill-advised things without thinking about the consequences. Other times they are brave, considerate, kind, clever and funny. The idea that showing them as vulnerable is negative seems odd to me - I think it helps to remember that they are kids, susceptible to things they see on the street or on telly, and that before demonising them you ought to have a crack at offering some kind of guidance. But it also points out that excessive mollycoddling is equally unhelpful, because it means they don't do things for themselves, and might prove daft enough to take sweets from the nice stranger in the beige mac.
The Times online reports that one child psychologist says “There is deliberate torment by adults of children in obvious distress,” which isn't true - when the kids have been upset, most of the parents have leapt in to see them. Another professional throws in her two cents with the logical leap that, "If you put children together, unsupervised, as sure as day follows night, there will be bullying... How much worse will it be for them to know they have been bullied in front of the whole nation?”
I dunno, 48.739%? Children are together unsupervised every day, and bullying goes on unchecked every day. They all know that bullying is bad, but continue to do it. If anything, seeing it happen on telly in front of their faces is going to make them aware of the effects. Because lets be honest, there is a wide range of behaviour that constitutes bullying, and I know of cases where the bullying kids have genuinely not considered themselves to be bullying. They see it as self defence or joining in with a 'joke' other kids are making, whilst the other party goes home in tears. Point is, they're not adults, and they haven’t got a very developed sense of empathy. Maybe showing them will help.
Their lack of adult-ness also makes their treatment negligent, it has been argued, because most of them can't cook or look after themselves. Course, that was the reason a lot of parents allowed them to take part - to teach them that they actually have life pretty easy, with people to do all that stuff for them. However, the adults were entertainingly perturbed when both communities took the view that those who could cook should only do so for themselves - or in the girls' case only for their house - leaving the others (some only eight) to fend for themselves. Having watched this they swooped in to lecture their offspring on the importance of looking out for people who are younger than you, taking responsibility, caring, sharing etc. So it's not as if they swanned off on holiday and deliberately left the kids to it, which the word negligent seems to imply.
I can't conclusively say whether there will be negative long-term ramifications for the kids who did this show. It seems possible. But I don't think any of them are going to slide into drug addiction or other life ruining chaos as a result of taking part in a documentary. And I hope Channel 4 do get to show the rest of it, not least because I want to know the outcome of the much hinted-at love story of eight year old Maddie and nine year old William next time when the two groups get to meet each other. My money's on them eloping, and giving OK! the exclusive interview.
*a pair of very nice country houses in Cornwall
Monday, 26 January 2009
Slysdexia
Accidentally Semi-Serious Article, orignally posted on Deadjournal
Today I was doing some research for a job application, and accidentally found out that dyslexia is fictional. Fantastic news for all those dyslexics out there who were under the impression that they had difficulties concentrating on reading because words jump off the page, mix themselves up, replace themselves with blocks of colour at random, or any of the other problems associated with the condition.
The surely Nobel-worthy discovery was made by a Labour MP from Manchester, Graham Stringer, in this here column.
Ordinarily I would jump at the chance to rip on dyslexia, not least in order to annoy my dyslexic younger sister. You know the type of thing… it’s just a made-up term for stupid people, dyslexic walks into a bra...
Unfortunately, Stringer seems to genuinely believe that it’s a made up disease – ‘political correctness gone maaad’ and other clichés. Essentially, like Dawkins on Christianity, Stringer doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about.
For a start, he insinuates that being dyslexic and being functionally illiterate are essentially the same thing. Bollocks. Functional illiteracy means a person can’t use reading or writing in everyday situations. Dyslexia is a learning disability that means the sufferer has trouble learning to read and write, but it doesn’t stop them from doing so entirely. The brain processes information in a different way, and whilst that can cause frustration and lead to people giving up (ergo sliding down the helter skelter of functional illiteracy), if they get support there’s no reason it shouldn’t be overcome.
I know several dyslexic people who have not only made it through university, but done pretty damn well. Being functionally illiterate would have hindered them somewhat. Not that being dyslexic didn’t pose problems, but you know what I mean. If the two conditions were the same, they wouldn’t have been able to fill out the application.
Stringer contextualises his findings in his regular visits to Strangeways, where many of the inmates are illiterate. He thinks that if literacy rates were higher, crime rates would decrease. That’s probably true – if you can’t read or write you’ll have problems getting a job and you’ll be poor and therefore potentially more tempted to go out on the nick. It’s not rocket science, it’s the gospel according to school. But how does this relate to dyslexia, you might ask? Well, the reason people are illiterate is down to bad teaching. And when bad teachers get caught out, they say “o hai, iz not ma fawlts tho, the childs are dyslexic.”
“If dyslexia really existed,” bristles our intrepid hero, “then countries as diverse as Nicaragua and South Korea would not have been able to achieve literacy rates of nearly 100%.” Now, I’ve looked this up (on Wikipedia), and apparently literacy rates in South Korea are indeed 99%, so that checks out. Nicaragua meanwhile, is at 80.1%. And the United Kingdom? Well, 99% again, actually. What kind of government are we dealing with, that doesn’t Wiki its figures before writing an article about the fictional nature of a condition whose existence is supported by mounds of ongoing research?
Towards the end of his diatribe, it transpires that Stringer is actually trying to make a case for something called synthetic phonics, a teaching method piloted in West Dumbartonshire which, according to him, has achieved great results and all but eradicated functional illiteracy in the area, which we can all agree is A Good Thing. But he incites ridiculous examples to make his point, like some idiot medical student saying she’s discriminated against as a dyslexic by having to do written exams.
“I don’t know about anybody else,” he says (the subtext of course being that of course he knows about everyone else, and more besides), “but I want my doctors, and for that matter, engineers, teachers, dentists and police officers to be able to read and write.” Well, fair enough.
Except I looked up what the idiot was actually arguing, and it seems the case goes a little bit beyond what Stringer mentions in his column. Quel surprise. Her problem was specifically with multiple-choice (ie not written) exams, for two reasons.
1) It discriminates against dyslexic students because the nature of the condition, as mentioned above, is such that words seem to move about on the page and it’s quite difficult to read and select the correct answer. A further point might be one that my sister explained, which is that she finds it hard to go back and check over what she’s written - she sees what is supposed to be there rather than what is actually in front of her.
2) “In normal day life, you don't get given multiple choice questions to sit. Your patients aren't going to ask you 'here's an option and four answers. Which one is right?”
I think on balance I would like my doctor to know what’s wrong with me based on a little bit more knowledge than picking at random out of four possibilities. And I know some are picked at random (about 50% of them according to the medical student I lived with in first and second year of university…). The main alternative to multiple-choice papers is apparently a ‘user input quiz’, which asks a question and requires you to come up with an answer yourself. Kind of like an old skool exam, then. We’ve all heard how education has gone to crap; surely Stringer ought to support this girl’s advocation of a return to the good old days, before dyslexics were invented?
It’s one thing to say that the education system has failed some people, and another to say that dyslexia doesn’t exist. The same system has failed both groups, and whilst there presumably is overlap between the functionally illiterate and the dyslexic, numerous other factors are at work here. From just a few weeks of experience working in a ‘community’ library I know that truancy, drug taking and crime affect young people who are well able to read and write, but don’t bother because it’s not cool, or because they don’t have to, or because they think there are better things to do. There’s a whole culture of choosing to be ignorant despite abundant resources and support being available – ten year old girls saying they can’t wait till they’re sixteen cause then they can “get a hoose wi ma mate fae Livvy, it’ll be brrruuwyant.” School is shite, reading is boring, and so on. It’s not because they're incapable - far from it. They just aren’t interested, and nobody is giving them any compelling reasons why they should be.
Furthermore, schools quite often don’t pick up on it, assuming instead that the kids who read slowly or can’t spell are just thick. Why bother to put someone forward for the test if they’re just slow? It’s expensive to do. Better to just bung them on a table with the other stupid kids and let a classroom assistant deal with it.
If synthetic phonics is as good as Stringer thinks, he should be campaigning for it using the results from West Dumbartonshire as proof, not questioning the existence of dyslexia by means of tenuous comparisons with famous prisons. I don’t know why anyone would be so wilfully obtuse in their arguments when it sounds like a perfectly sound case could be made without them. There again, I’m not a member of parliament. Yay democracy.
Today I was doing some research for a job application, and accidentally found out that dyslexia is fictional. Fantastic news for all those dyslexics out there who were under the impression that they had difficulties concentrating on reading because words jump off the page, mix themselves up, replace themselves with blocks of colour at random, or any of the other problems associated with the condition.
The surely Nobel-worthy discovery was made by a Labour MP from Manchester, Graham Stringer, in this here column.
Ordinarily I would jump at the chance to rip on dyslexia, not least in order to annoy my dyslexic younger sister. You know the type of thing… it’s just a made-up term for stupid people, dyslexic walks into a bra...
Unfortunately, Stringer seems to genuinely believe that it’s a made up disease – ‘political correctness gone maaad’ and other clichés. Essentially, like Dawkins on Christianity, Stringer doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about.
For a start, he insinuates that being dyslexic and being functionally illiterate are essentially the same thing. Bollocks. Functional illiteracy means a person can’t use reading or writing in everyday situations. Dyslexia is a learning disability that means the sufferer has trouble learning to read and write, but it doesn’t stop them from doing so entirely. The brain processes information in a different way, and whilst that can cause frustration and lead to people giving up (ergo sliding down the helter skelter of functional illiteracy), if they get support there’s no reason it shouldn’t be overcome.
I know several dyslexic people who have not only made it through university, but done pretty damn well. Being functionally illiterate would have hindered them somewhat. Not that being dyslexic didn’t pose problems, but you know what I mean. If the two conditions were the same, they wouldn’t have been able to fill out the application.
Stringer contextualises his findings in his regular visits to Strangeways, where many of the inmates are illiterate. He thinks that if literacy rates were higher, crime rates would decrease. That’s probably true – if you can’t read or write you’ll have problems getting a job and you’ll be poor and therefore potentially more tempted to go out on the nick. It’s not rocket science, it’s the gospel according to school. But how does this relate to dyslexia, you might ask? Well, the reason people are illiterate is down to bad teaching. And when bad teachers get caught out, they say “o hai, iz not ma fawlts tho, the childs are dyslexic.”
“If dyslexia really existed,” bristles our intrepid hero, “then countries as diverse as Nicaragua and South Korea would not have been able to achieve literacy rates of nearly 100%.” Now, I’ve looked this up (on Wikipedia), and apparently literacy rates in South Korea are indeed 99%, so that checks out. Nicaragua meanwhile, is at 80.1%. And the United Kingdom? Well, 99% again, actually. What kind of government are we dealing with, that doesn’t Wiki its figures before writing an article about the fictional nature of a condition whose existence is supported by mounds of ongoing research?
Towards the end of his diatribe, it transpires that Stringer is actually trying to make a case for something called synthetic phonics, a teaching method piloted in West Dumbartonshire which, according to him, has achieved great results and all but eradicated functional illiteracy in the area, which we can all agree is A Good Thing. But he incites ridiculous examples to make his point, like some idiot medical student saying she’s discriminated against as a dyslexic by having to do written exams.
“I don’t know about anybody else,” he says (the subtext of course being that of course he knows about everyone else, and more besides), “but I want my doctors, and for that matter, engineers, teachers, dentists and police officers to be able to read and write.” Well, fair enough.
Except I looked up what the idiot was actually arguing, and it seems the case goes a little bit beyond what Stringer mentions in his column. Quel surprise. Her problem was specifically with multiple-choice (ie not written) exams, for two reasons.
1) It discriminates against dyslexic students because the nature of the condition, as mentioned above, is such that words seem to move about on the page and it’s quite difficult to read and select the correct answer. A further point might be one that my sister explained, which is that she finds it hard to go back and check over what she’s written - she sees what is supposed to be there rather than what is actually in front of her.
2) “In normal day life, you don't get given multiple choice questions to sit. Your patients aren't going to ask you 'here's an option and four answers. Which one is right?”
I think on balance I would like my doctor to know what’s wrong with me based on a little bit more knowledge than picking at random out of four possibilities. And I know some are picked at random (about 50% of them according to the medical student I lived with in first and second year of university…). The main alternative to multiple-choice papers is apparently a ‘user input quiz’, which asks a question and requires you to come up with an answer yourself. Kind of like an old skool exam, then. We’ve all heard how education has gone to crap; surely Stringer ought to support this girl’s advocation of a return to the good old days, before dyslexics were invented?
It’s one thing to say that the education system has failed some people, and another to say that dyslexia doesn’t exist. The same system has failed both groups, and whilst there presumably is overlap between the functionally illiterate and the dyslexic, numerous other factors are at work here. From just a few weeks of experience working in a ‘community’ library I know that truancy, drug taking and crime affect young people who are well able to read and write, but don’t bother because it’s not cool, or because they don’t have to, or because they think there are better things to do. There’s a whole culture of choosing to be ignorant despite abundant resources and support being available – ten year old girls saying they can’t wait till they’re sixteen cause then they can “get a hoose wi ma mate fae Livvy, it’ll be brrruuwyant.” School is shite, reading is boring, and so on. It’s not because they're incapable - far from it. They just aren’t interested, and nobody is giving them any compelling reasons why they should be.
Furthermore, schools quite often don’t pick up on it, assuming instead that the kids who read slowly or can’t spell are just thick. Why bother to put someone forward for the test if they’re just slow? It’s expensive to do. Better to just bung them on a table with the other stupid kids and let a classroom assistant deal with it.
If synthetic phonics is as good as Stringer thinks, he should be campaigning for it using the results from West Dumbartonshire as proof, not questioning the existence of dyslexia by means of tenuous comparisons with famous prisons. I don’t know why anyone would be so wilfully obtuse in their arguments when it sounds like a perfectly sound case could be made without them. There again, I’m not a member of parliament. Yay democracy.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Heal The World
Originally on Deadjournal
Ah, iTunes. The magic of shuffle is indeed a powerful tool.
It has in recent moments come out with ‘Losing My Way’, a provocatively poor track from the otherwise surprisingly enjoyable Future Sex/Love Sounds by none other than Justin Timberlake.
The CD came via an embarrassed friend who entreated me not to tell anyone its origins. Released in 2006, just ahead of several undeniably better albums (Jarvis Cocker’s first solo effort, a re-release of Pavement’s Wowee Zowee, Pieces of the People we Love by The Rapture - the list goes on), it received mixed reviews. I know this because I just read a load of them. Tim Finney of Pitchfork, for instance, wrote: “According to the laws of momentum which govern pop music, any sequel [to a debut album] could only be either be a pale reflection or a hubristic monstrosity. With FutureSex/LoveSounds he unrepentantly chooses the latter.”
That’s a tad unfair. The album is by no means a total failure, although it does veer from the sublime to the ridiculous with the breakneck speed of a toddler pumped full of cherryade, and it fizzles out a little bit towards the end. On the other hand, I was rather expecting it to be gash, so the fact it was any craic at all is a tribute to the Timberlake. The first single, after all, was SexyBack, a hugely confusing track for those of us who didn’t know sexy had left in the first place, and the song chosen to annoy the crap out of anyone who listened to Star FM (the St Andrews University Radio Station) at the time of release, as it was their signature tune. St Andrews University Radio is not now, nor has it ever been, bringing sexy back.
But what I really want to talk to you about is not Sexyback, nor the album as a whole, but the aforementioned crap in a bag that is ‘Losing My Way’. This is an anti-drugs song so preachy that a gospel choir comes in half way through. Lucy Davies of BBC online “can't decide whether this is brilliant or cheese on toast.” It’s the latter. No question. Rolling Stone’s Robert Christgau is far closer to the mark in describing it as a “clueless embarrassment.”
It’s about a crack addict called Bob, who will probably never know the colour of his daughter’s eyes on account of all the drugs. Drugs are bad, m’kay. It’s deep, meaningful and touching. Victor, of lyricsdepot.com, said “Justin expressed my pain in one song”. A few posts down, Nanea elaborates “this song could for so many situations not just drugs.. like alcohol problems or anything that might cause you to lose your way. I pray for those who have lost thier way and hope God lights their path. I thank JT for singing a song that touched me.” Evidence that people who genuinely enjoy this track are unable to proof read their own posts, if nothing else. The only thing this song touches is the gag reflex, or whatever nerve it is that makes you cringe.
The epic melodrama sees Justin, whose acting you may remember from Shrek 3, sings from the point of view of a junkie. To engage the listener, he easily introduces himself through rhyme:
“Hi my name is Bob and I work at my job.”
The man is a poet.
“I make forty-some dollars a day
I used to be the man in my hometown
'til I started to lose my way”
The reason Bob thinks that ‘forty-some’ is a number is quickly explained:
“It all goes back to when I dropped out at school
Having fun, I was living the life
But now I got a problem with that little white rock
See I can’t put down the pipe.”
It’s about as subtle as Just Say No.
“It is breaking me down, watching the world spin round..
While my dreams fall down
Is anybody out there?”
It is unclear whether Bob is tripping and can see the world spinning around as part of a hallucination, or whether the fact the world spins round is something he vaguely remembers from watching National Geographic in the middle of the night having been unable to score. But more important is the point that his dreams have not come true, and he feels alone. Drugs and lack of schooling will do that to you.
“Can anybody out there hear me? 'Cause I can't seem to hear myself…”
Wow, that is like, so true! Nobody listens to drug addicts except for the people they mug to fund their addiction.
“Can anybody out there see me? 'Cause I can't seem to see myself...”
Nobody makes eye contact with them, either. And not being seen makes you feel invisible. God, that Justin is good innee. Look at his hair.
“There's gotta be a heaven somewhere”
Fair play. You can’t argue with established facts, like the proven existence of a physical heaven.
“Can you save me from this hell?”
Yes, for I am Justin Timberlake, popstar, actor and superhero! But I shall not tell you how yet, for we must add EVEN MORE DEPTH to this utterly believable, clearly based on more solid experience than watching a couple of True Movies, tale.
“Now you gotta understand I was a family man
I would have gave anything for my own”
(His family, that is)
“But I couldn't get a grip on my new-found itch”
(Drugs)
“So I ended up all alone
I remember where I was when I got my first buzz
See I thought I was living the life
And the craziest thing is I'll probably never know the colour of my daughter's eyes.”
Mmm. That implies she was unborn when all this transpired. Which begs several questions. How old is Bob? How long has Bob been on the drugs? Is he actually intending on getting clean at any stage? It seems he wants someone else to solve his problems for him, which is totes lazy imo. JT, you are a busy and important man, you shouldn’t be trying to find friends for indolent crackheads. And yet, he does. What a guy. All Bob need do, Justin suggests, is repent. And lo, he will be saved. Biblical.
Justin, it may be worth pointing out, has been in the entertainment industry since he was about ten. Call me a cynic, but it seems unlikely that he ever met a proper down and out junkie from the street when he was doing the Mickey Mouse club. When he comes into contact with drugs, it’s surely in rather more glamorous surroundings than poor old Bobby Bob Bob. Essentially, I think he’s watched a documentary and written a song about it.
I look forward to the follow-up, a ditty from the point of view of the half-ton boy who was on that Bodyshock program. It’ll be poignant as fuck.
Ah, iTunes. The magic of shuffle is indeed a powerful tool.
It has in recent moments come out with ‘Losing My Way’, a provocatively poor track from the otherwise surprisingly enjoyable Future Sex/Love Sounds by none other than Justin Timberlake.
The CD came via an embarrassed friend who entreated me not to tell anyone its origins. Released in 2006, just ahead of several undeniably better albums (Jarvis Cocker’s first solo effort, a re-release of Pavement’s Wowee Zowee, Pieces of the People we Love by The Rapture - the list goes on), it received mixed reviews. I know this because I just read a load of them. Tim Finney of Pitchfork, for instance, wrote: “According to the laws of momentum which govern pop music, any sequel [to a debut album] could only be either be a pale reflection or a hubristic monstrosity. With FutureSex/LoveSounds he unrepentantly chooses the latter.”
That’s a tad unfair. The album is by no means a total failure, although it does veer from the sublime to the ridiculous with the breakneck speed of a toddler pumped full of cherryade, and it fizzles out a little bit towards the end. On the other hand, I was rather expecting it to be gash, so the fact it was any craic at all is a tribute to the Timberlake. The first single, after all, was SexyBack, a hugely confusing track for those of us who didn’t know sexy had left in the first place, and the song chosen to annoy the crap out of anyone who listened to Star FM (the St Andrews University Radio Station) at the time of release, as it was their signature tune. St Andrews University Radio is not now, nor has it ever been, bringing sexy back.
But what I really want to talk to you about is not Sexyback, nor the album as a whole, but the aforementioned crap in a bag that is ‘Losing My Way’. This is an anti-drugs song so preachy that a gospel choir comes in half way through. Lucy Davies of BBC online “can't decide whether this is brilliant or cheese on toast.” It’s the latter. No question. Rolling Stone’s Robert Christgau is far closer to the mark in describing it as a “clueless embarrassment.”
It’s about a crack addict called Bob, who will probably never know the colour of his daughter’s eyes on account of all the drugs. Drugs are bad, m’kay. It’s deep, meaningful and touching. Victor, of lyricsdepot.com, said “Justin expressed my pain in one song”. A few posts down, Nanea elaborates “this song could for so many situations not just drugs.. like alcohol problems or anything that might cause you to lose your way. I pray for those who have lost thier way and hope God lights their path. I thank JT for singing a song that touched me.” Evidence that people who genuinely enjoy this track are unable to proof read their own posts, if nothing else. The only thing this song touches is the gag reflex, or whatever nerve it is that makes you cringe.
The epic melodrama sees Justin, whose acting you may remember from Shrek 3, sings from the point of view of a junkie. To engage the listener, he easily introduces himself through rhyme:
“Hi my name is Bob and I work at my job.”
The man is a poet.
“I make forty-some dollars a day
I used to be the man in my hometown
'til I started to lose my way”
The reason Bob thinks that ‘forty-some’ is a number is quickly explained:
“It all goes back to when I dropped out at school
Having fun, I was living the life
But now I got a problem with that little white rock
See I can’t put down the pipe.”
It’s about as subtle as Just Say No.
“It is breaking me down, watching the world spin round..
While my dreams fall down
Is anybody out there?”
It is unclear whether Bob is tripping and can see the world spinning around as part of a hallucination, or whether the fact the world spins round is something he vaguely remembers from watching National Geographic in the middle of the night having been unable to score. But more important is the point that his dreams have not come true, and he feels alone. Drugs and lack of schooling will do that to you.
“Can anybody out there hear me? 'Cause I can't seem to hear myself…”
Wow, that is like, so true! Nobody listens to drug addicts except for the people they mug to fund their addiction.
“Can anybody out there see me? 'Cause I can't seem to see myself...”
Nobody makes eye contact with them, either. And not being seen makes you feel invisible. God, that Justin is good innee. Look at his hair.
“There's gotta be a heaven somewhere”
Fair play. You can’t argue with established facts, like the proven existence of a physical heaven.
“Can you save me from this hell?”
Yes, for I am Justin Timberlake, popstar, actor and superhero! But I shall not tell you how yet, for we must add EVEN MORE DEPTH to this utterly believable, clearly based on more solid experience than watching a couple of True Movies, tale.
“Now you gotta understand I was a family man
I would have gave anything for my own”
(His family, that is)
“But I couldn't get a grip on my new-found itch”
(Drugs)
“So I ended up all alone
I remember where I was when I got my first buzz
See I thought I was living the life
And the craziest thing is I'll probably never know the colour of my daughter's eyes.”
Mmm. That implies she was unborn when all this transpired. Which begs several questions. How old is Bob? How long has Bob been on the drugs? Is he actually intending on getting clean at any stage? It seems he wants someone else to solve his problems for him, which is totes lazy imo. JT, you are a busy and important man, you shouldn’t be trying to find friends for indolent crackheads. And yet, he does. What a guy. All Bob need do, Justin suggests, is repent. And lo, he will be saved. Biblical.
Justin, it may be worth pointing out, has been in the entertainment industry since he was about ten. Call me a cynic, but it seems unlikely that he ever met a proper down and out junkie from the street when he was doing the Mickey Mouse club. When he comes into contact with drugs, it’s surely in rather more glamorous surroundings than poor old Bobby Bob Bob. Essentially, I think he’s watched a documentary and written a song about it.
I look forward to the follow-up, a ditty from the point of view of the half-ton boy who was on that Bodyshock program. It’ll be poignant as fuck.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Things That Will Set Us On Fire
By our early twenties, we all know not to set ourselves on fire. A sweeping generalisation you might say, but I would argue that many people recognise the negative connotations of being aflame from an even younger age. And I say good for them.
Despite my oft-espoused view that “the film version of Denethor’s flamey demise in Lord of the Rings is the only way to go”, the actual results of setting oneself on fire are almost always unpleasant. One’s favourite clothes may be spoiled, unsightly scars can be sustained, and there is even a possibility of fatality.
We know that we shouldn’t wear loose clothes around naked flames, not to overload electrical sockets, and that if you nod off with a cigarette in your mouth – which some people do, apparently - your bed, your spouse and your home will be destroyed in a terrifying inferno that will haunt your nightmares for the rest of time whilst you, the perpetrator, will survive (albeit in a lot of pain and very badly disfigured) to reflect upon your actions.
However, there are several ways to set oneself on fire that I’ve only learned about since moving to Edinburgh.
For instance, did you know that leaving shoes beside the front door when you come home is a creamy recipe for certain death? (We only do this, incidentally, because the letting agent told us to - the reason being that our carpet is that brand of rented accommodation beige which sucks in dirt like a sponge in an effort to lose us our deposit in cleaning bills at the end of the lease.) One can only speculate that secret research has determined that shoes often spontaneously burst into flames, possibly out of boredom, and it logically follows on that if they are left beside the door they will simultaneously endanger our lives and block our escape route.
Furthermore, open doors are phenomenally dangerous. We have known for some time that we aren’t supposed to keep our kitchen or bedroom doors open, because ‘mumbly fire hazard something about council inspectors’. This has never been explained to my satisfaction.
Then today I learned that using the hall as a communal area (we have no living room) is a fire hazard, on the grounds that we have a telly and a game cube in the corner and may trip over the wires. The wires, by the by, are also in the corner, tucked between the telly and a wall. Only someone who was really in the mood for tripping over stuff could fall over them.
However, I realise now that I have been hopelessly complacent with regards to combustion possibilities in the home. I feel fortunate to have seen the light before anything got too badly scorched, and am almost giddy with joy that now I can pass on the information to you, journal reader, to help you identify the fire hazards in your own life and prepare yourself accordingly. Good luck.
Despite my oft-espoused view that “the film version of Denethor’s flamey demise in Lord of the Rings is the only way to go”, the actual results of setting oneself on fire are almost always unpleasant. One’s favourite clothes may be spoiled, unsightly scars can be sustained, and there is even a possibility of fatality.
We know that we shouldn’t wear loose clothes around naked flames, not to overload electrical sockets, and that if you nod off with a cigarette in your mouth – which some people do, apparently - your bed, your spouse and your home will be destroyed in a terrifying inferno that will haunt your nightmares for the rest of time whilst you, the perpetrator, will survive (albeit in a lot of pain and very badly disfigured) to reflect upon your actions.
However, there are several ways to set oneself on fire that I’ve only learned about since moving to Edinburgh.
For instance, did you know that leaving shoes beside the front door when you come home is a creamy recipe for certain death? (We only do this, incidentally, because the letting agent told us to - the reason being that our carpet is that brand of rented accommodation beige which sucks in dirt like a sponge in an effort to lose us our deposit in cleaning bills at the end of the lease.) One can only speculate that secret research has determined that shoes often spontaneously burst into flames, possibly out of boredom, and it logically follows on that if they are left beside the door they will simultaneously endanger our lives and block our escape route.
Furthermore, open doors are phenomenally dangerous. We have known for some time that we aren’t supposed to keep our kitchen or bedroom doors open, because ‘mumbly fire hazard something about council inspectors’. This has never been explained to my satisfaction.
Then today I learned that using the hall as a communal area (we have no living room) is a fire hazard, on the grounds that we have a telly and a game cube in the corner and may trip over the wires. The wires, by the by, are also in the corner, tucked between the telly and a wall. Only someone who was really in the mood for tripping over stuff could fall over them.
However, I realise now that I have been hopelessly complacent with regards to combustion possibilities in the home. I feel fortunate to have seen the light before anything got too badly scorched, and am almost giddy with joy that now I can pass on the information to you, journal reader, to help you identify the fire hazards in your own life and prepare yourself accordingly. Good luck.
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Odd Numbers
Graffiti in the loos of Henry's Cellar Bar, discovered at a DanDanDan gig.
It is an epic cliffhanger.
The hooves of expectation crush my what?!
Suggestions so far include 'tits', 'baws', 'crisps' and 'pi'.
These are the suggestions of fools.
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