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No Milk Today
Mar. 18th, 2007 02:06 pmAs you know, I'm a great one for preparing in advance, allowing for unexpected contingencies, and generally worrying. People who fail so to do drive me mental, and when they point out the rationality behind their laissez-faire attitude (that they save themselves a lot of work in return for the occasional fuck-up, which probably wouldn't be that serious a fuck-up anyway) I just get mader.
So how on earth have I allowed myself to run out of milk in the middle of a heavy downpour of rain, accompanied by strong, nay, ferocious, winds? (the rain, not me)
I bought a pint (of milk, not rain) yesterday at the newsagent's because I hadn't been to the supermarket (because I probably don't need to go to the supermarket, except that I appear to be running out of bread, so I should go to the supermarket, but it's pissing down with rain, and the supermarket shuts in two hours. Oh dear.) and I must have drunk more coffee than I usually do, because that pint has mysteriously emptied. Or perhaps I have super-cunning cats who are capable not just of breaking into a burglar-proof flat, but also of opening the fridge, feasting on my milk, and then leaving without leaving any sign that they have been here. Somehow, I doubt this hypothesis.
So, here I am, milkless, soon to be breadless, pizzaless, with the weather so horrific that only a fool would step outside. How did I let things come to a pass that would be worthy of Harrington at his most unpreparedness? Dreadful.
Speaking of Harringtons, the programme on the history of soul in the UK had an entertaining section on the skinhead movement. As some of you probably know, the skinhead movement didn't begin with Doctor Martens and tight jeans. It began with crombies, Terry Towling socks, loafers, two-tone sta-prest and white Ben Shermans. The stylistic inheritance was from the black youth in London and it spread from Brixton to Stockwell around 1968 (I believe there were North London influences, but this was the South London connection, where I lived at the time). This combined with the end of the "mods vs rockers" concept, which still existed in my first year at grammar school.
It was only when the re-emerging National Front spotted that football was good place to recruit white working-class youth (black players were still very much a rarity in those days, and there weren't many black fans) that skinheadism merged with right-wing attitudes. This would have been 1970 or thereabouts, accelerating up to 1974.
++++++++++
BBC 4 showed an odd festival compilation on Friday night. It was called "Celtic Connections" and seemed to consist of some bands performing to a half-empty hall in Glasgow (hint, if you want fans of traditional music, try the middle-classes in Cambridge, not the urbanity of Glasgow).
Anyhoo, included in "Celtic Connections" were, staggeringly, The Klezmatics. Now, I'm all for giving The Klezmatics some air-time, but this New York-based group that specializes in modernising Klezmer, the traditional Yiddish musical form, don't seem to me to have a "Celtic Connection" of any sort. They were accompanied by an "Irish-American" (i.e., American) female singer, and they performed a kind of klezmatic version of a Lou Reed song. Surreal.
This was followed by an Inuit, yes, an Inuit, singer. She sounded a bit like Bjork on acid. All very fine, but surely this kind of thing is suited to Womad rather than something entitled "Celtic Connections"?
The reasoning, of course, is once again one of shaky causology, so prevalent in the world. "We the Celts are an oppressed people at the hands of the dastardly English".(whomever the "English" might be, given our massive bastardised history). You, the Inuit, and you, the Jews. You are also oppressed people. Voila! There's your "Celtic Connection"!
Which is utter bollocks, when you think about it. Next thing we'll be hearing that all animals with five fingers must be monkeys.
+++++++
I must be coming out of my depression, because I had a nap, and I dreamt that I was playing cards in Vegas. Indeed, it was quite disappointing to wake up to find myself still in England (with floods of rain falling outside -- see above). If I'm looking forward to something (going to LV), then I've crawled back from the abysss. I tell you, it's weird.
+++++++
One of the plusses of researching Asian newspapers for insurance stories is that you occasionally come across some unrelated gems.
Some of you may remember the ex-wrestler who became governor of Minnesota.
Well, this guy is going one better:
"MORIOKA — Iwate prefectural assemblyman and professional wrestler The Great Sasuke announced his plan Sunday to run in the April 8 Iwate gubernatorial election as an independent candidate. Sasuke, 38, said in a press conference at a hotel in the Iwate capital of Morioka that he intends to continue wearing his mask even if he is elected as governor.
The Great Sasuke, his ring name under which he has served as a prefectural assembly member, is known for establishing the first local wrestling organization in Japan, Michinoku Pro Wrestling (Northeastern Wrestling), in 1993. His wearing a mask at assembly sessions had incurred criticism from some of his fellow assembly members after he was elected to the assembly in the spring of 2003. His four-year term as an assembly member is about to expire."
What happens if he loses? Does his opponent get to unmask him?
So how on earth have I allowed myself to run out of milk in the middle of a heavy downpour of rain, accompanied by strong, nay, ferocious, winds? (the rain, not me)
I bought a pint (of milk, not rain) yesterday at the newsagent's because I hadn't been to the supermarket (because I probably don't need to go to the supermarket, except that I appear to be running out of bread, so I should go to the supermarket, but it's pissing down with rain, and the supermarket shuts in two hours. Oh dear.) and I must have drunk more coffee than I usually do, because that pint has mysteriously emptied. Or perhaps I have super-cunning cats who are capable not just of breaking into a burglar-proof flat, but also of opening the fridge, feasting on my milk, and then leaving without leaving any sign that they have been here. Somehow, I doubt this hypothesis.
So, here I am, milkless, soon to be breadless, pizzaless, with the weather so horrific that only a fool would step outside. How did I let things come to a pass that would be worthy of Harrington at his most unpreparedness? Dreadful.
Speaking of Harringtons, the programme on the history of soul in the UK had an entertaining section on the skinhead movement. As some of you probably know, the skinhead movement didn't begin with Doctor Martens and tight jeans. It began with crombies, Terry Towling socks, loafers, two-tone sta-prest and white Ben Shermans. The stylistic inheritance was from the black youth in London and it spread from Brixton to Stockwell around 1968 (I believe there were North London influences, but this was the South London connection, where I lived at the time). This combined with the end of the "mods vs rockers" concept, which still existed in my first year at grammar school.
It was only when the re-emerging National Front spotted that football was good place to recruit white working-class youth (black players were still very much a rarity in those days, and there weren't many black fans) that skinheadism merged with right-wing attitudes. This would have been 1970 or thereabouts, accelerating up to 1974.
++++++++++
BBC 4 showed an odd festival compilation on Friday night. It was called "Celtic Connections" and seemed to consist of some bands performing to a half-empty hall in Glasgow (hint, if you want fans of traditional music, try the middle-classes in Cambridge, not the urbanity of Glasgow).
Anyhoo, included in "Celtic Connections" were, staggeringly, The Klezmatics. Now, I'm all for giving The Klezmatics some air-time, but this New York-based group that specializes in modernising Klezmer, the traditional Yiddish musical form, don't seem to me to have a "Celtic Connection" of any sort. They were accompanied by an "Irish-American" (i.e., American) female singer, and they performed a kind of klezmatic version of a Lou Reed song. Surreal.
This was followed by an Inuit, yes, an Inuit, singer. She sounded a bit like Bjork on acid. All very fine, but surely this kind of thing is suited to Womad rather than something entitled "Celtic Connections"?
The reasoning, of course, is once again one of shaky causology, so prevalent in the world. "We the Celts are an oppressed people at the hands of the dastardly English".(whomever the "English" might be, given our massive bastardised history). You, the Inuit, and you, the Jews. You are also oppressed people. Voila! There's your "Celtic Connection"!
Which is utter bollocks, when you think about it. Next thing we'll be hearing that all animals with five fingers must be monkeys.
+++++++
I must be coming out of my depression, because I had a nap, and I dreamt that I was playing cards in Vegas. Indeed, it was quite disappointing to wake up to find myself still in England (with floods of rain falling outside -- see above). If I'm looking forward to something (going to LV), then I've crawled back from the abysss. I tell you, it's weird.
+++++++
One of the plusses of researching Asian newspapers for insurance stories is that you occasionally come across some unrelated gems.
Some of you may remember the ex-wrestler who became governor of Minnesota.
Well, this guy is going one better:
"MORIOKA — Iwate prefectural assemblyman and professional wrestler The Great Sasuke announced his plan Sunday to run in the April 8 Iwate gubernatorial election as an independent candidate. Sasuke, 38, said in a press conference at a hotel in the Iwate capital of Morioka that he intends to continue wearing his mask even if he is elected as governor.
The Great Sasuke, his ring name under which he has served as a prefectural assembly member, is known for establishing the first local wrestling organization in Japan, Michinoku Pro Wrestling (Northeastern Wrestling), in 1993. His wearing a mask at assembly sessions had incurred criticism from some of his fellow assembly members after he was elected to the assembly in the spring of 2003. His four-year term as an assembly member is about to expire."
What happens if he loses? Does his opponent get to unmask him?
