almost witty

Courtesy of kottke.org, the following facts:

Listening to 1982’s Michael Jackson’s Thriller in 2008 is equivalent to listening to Elvis Presley’s Blue Suede Shoes, Hound Dog, and Love Me Tender - all released in 1956.

Listening to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit today is equivalent to playing Terry Jack’s Seasons In The Sun (1974) in 1991.

Watching Star Wars today is like watching It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) in 1977.

Watching The Godfather today is like watching Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times (1936) in 1972. Modern Times was a silent film (Chaplin’s last).

Back to the Future (1985) –> To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

Die Hard (1988) –> Bullitt (1968)

Radiohead, OK Computer (1997) –> Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet (1986)

Sky News: Superg-Looed: Man Stuck To Toilet

and as usual, Americans find a twist:

Sky News: Woman Cut Free After Two Years On Loo

Can’t wait to see how the Chinese manage to top that one…

Not just yet, but they may be slowly getting there, if the latest spam comment is to be believed — assuming of course, that it was generated by computer, and not a frustrated lurid wannabe-writer. It reads:

“Only a cousin, but he was sobbingly dutiful as she drank his conservative white saga in obnoxious gulps, embedding the bitter, rationalized buff as she swallowed”

I’m sure there’s a short story in there somewhere. Probably set in a dark alley in Amsterdam or something, mind.

Of course, it’d probably help from a spammers point of view if the spam comment actually connected to a website, or a telephone number, or *something*. Instead of a nonsensical web address…

(whisper: What I am about to blog may lead me into trouble with the unsavoury criminal gangs of the underworld. Yet, I feel it is a story that simply must be told…)

On the Metrolink home, another guy comes in. He looks a little out of it, and to be honest, quite green around the gills. Although it could be the flourescent donkey jacket he’s wearing. He catches me looking at him, I smile back and get back to my magazine. He grabs one of those freebie newspapers, the ride goes on.

Two studenty students get on - long frizzled hair, black clothing, definitely the worst for wear for drink. Flourescent guy asks them if they want any drugs, and the conversation starts for the next few stops.

He’s Brian, with an Irish accent. He is also quite drunk. He gives them his phone number — loudly — three times, and phones home in order to arrange the deal for some weed and barbs at the next tram station. Even though the drunk students are lamely protesting that they’re trying to give it all up. He even gives them a potted biography of his life - he’s 27, got three kids by three different women. He works as a security guard at 10 quid per hour in order so the DSS can’t spot his drug dealing earnings.

My stop’s coming up - ironically, at the same stop where the deal is going to go down. But waiting at the door is a slightly dishevelled man, carrying a blue plastic bag. Said plastic bag seems to be full of some kind of liquid. Curious. Oh. It’s urine. and it’s starting to leak.

Thankfully the doors open and we all rush out. Brian and his new best friends are still at the tram stop, waiting for someone to pop round.

I’ve got no particular objection to people selling or buying drugs, but at least pretend it’s slightly illegal.

Work recently asked me to send in a photo of me for their files. Alas, I meekly did a wacky pose against a wall, when what I should have done was done a screengrab from a randomized face at monoface. Over 7000 combinations of photographs of eyes, hair, nose and mouth combined to create some strikingly ridiculous faces!