There are so many web native gags in here your head might explode. And there's Nyan Cat. Well, Nyan Thundercat to be completely correct. I can't explain. Just watch the damn thing.
Thursday
Wednesday
Zen 1075: Great footage of a missile blowing up a tank
Yes, the tank is ancient (it's a Soviet T72) and they've clearly salted the target with a heap of fuel and explosive to make the whoomp bigger, but it's jolly impressive all the same. That's a TOW-2B apparently, which gets overhead of the target and detonates a shaped charge downwards. I reckon the turret gets a full 60 feet of vertical.
In Soviet Russia, tank explodes you.
In Soviet Russia, tank explodes you.
Zen 1074: New York Times slates Rugby World Cup as a one-sided non-competition - a response
The New York Times has written an editorial about the Rugby World Cup. While this is charming in its own special way - rather like a ladies' knitting circle discussing the pros and cons of monster truck racing - it's still a pretty terrible piece of journalism.
First, rugby's appeal is not limited to the "old British Empire", unless I missed the bit in history where we invaded and successfully held Georgia, Romania, Russia, Japan, Italy, France and Argentina. (Actually, I suppose they might have a point with France, but then we're talking really, really old Empire.)
Second, the reason it's spread over seven weeks rather than the four weeks of the 'soccer' world cup is because rugby is an incredibly demanding contact sport, not a 90 minute hair-gel-and-amateur-dramatics mince-athon. It takes time to recover. In fact, the one valid, if unoriginal, observation the NYT does make is about the unfairness of the schedule on the minnows, who sometimes only have four days between matches. In footballing terms, that's barely enough time to adjust your guyliner.
Third, while there have been some colossal mismatches, you can guarantee there's not one player in one team who thinks they should be spared. What rugby player in his right mind is going to turn down the opportunity to test himself against England, South Africa, the All Blacks? Note to Carlos Tevez: rugby players don't refuse to play.
Finally, citing American football as a point of comparison is so ludicrous as to be embarrassing. "Super Bowls have been decided by scores of 51-10 and 52-17. But these results are generally surprising." Tell you what, if you got a scoreline like that in an RWC final, that would be beyond surprising - it would mean somebody machine-gunned one of the teams at half time.
And if we're talking about games with limited appeal, I'd suggest a better candidate is a sport that is only played seriously in the country where it was invented, requires more equipment than a space shuttle launch to play, wallows in more fatuous self-regarding excess than Caligula's 21st birthday party and is still manages to be fabulously, excruciatingly dull.
By contrast, rugby is a genuine global game that now offers the third largest sporting event in the world after the Olympics and the Kissball. It brought unity to South Africa. It's played across the sectarian divide in Ireland. It's the fastest growing sport in Africa. You shouldn't be criticising the game, NYT, you should be nominating it for the Nobel Peace Prize.
First, rugby's appeal is not limited to the "old British Empire", unless I missed the bit in history where we invaded and successfully held Georgia, Romania, Russia, Japan, Italy, France and Argentina. (Actually, I suppose they might have a point with France, but then we're talking really, really old Empire.)
Second, the reason it's spread over seven weeks rather than the four weeks of the 'soccer' world cup is because rugby is an incredibly demanding contact sport, not a 90 minute hair-gel-and-amateur-dramatics mince-athon. It takes time to recover. In fact, the one valid, if unoriginal, observation the NYT does make is about the unfairness of the schedule on the minnows, who sometimes only have four days between matches. In footballing terms, that's barely enough time to adjust your guyliner.
Third, while there have been some colossal mismatches, you can guarantee there's not one player in one team who thinks they should be spared. What rugby player in his right mind is going to turn down the opportunity to test himself against England, South Africa, the All Blacks? Note to Carlos Tevez: rugby players don't refuse to play.
Finally, citing American football as a point of comparison is so ludicrous as to be embarrassing. "Super Bowls have been decided by scores of 51-10 and 52-17. But these results are generally surprising." Tell you what, if you got a scoreline like that in an RWC final, that would be beyond surprising - it would mean somebody machine-gunned one of the teams at half time.
And if we're talking about games with limited appeal, I'd suggest a better candidate is a sport that is only played seriously in the country where it was invented, requires more equipment than a space shuttle launch to play, wallows in more fatuous self-regarding excess than Caligula's 21st birthday party and is still manages to be fabulously, excruciatingly dull.
By contrast, rugby is a genuine global game that now offers the third largest sporting event in the world after the Olympics and the Kissball. It brought unity to South Africa. It's played across the sectarian divide in Ireland. It's the fastest growing sport in Africa. You shouldn't be criticising the game, NYT, you should be nominating it for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Tuesday
Zen 1073: 'Governments don't rule the world, Goldman Sachs rules the world' - trader gives surprisingly frank interview, surprises everyone
Trader Alessio Rastani gives a wonderfully unvarnished version of the truth to the BBC, explaining how traders aren't interested in altruism, they're interested in making money. Apparently this is news.
To say his vision is Apocalyptic is putting it mildly - depression, Eurozone collapse, markets 'are toast', etc - but there is an up side and you can still make money if you do the right things.
By right, I mean 'most profitable' rather than 'most ethical'. If it's ethics you want, then frankly Gordon Gekko here doesn't give a shit.
To say his vision is Apocalyptic is putting it mildly - depression, Eurozone collapse, markets 'are toast', etc - but there is an up side and you can still make money if you do the right things.
By right, I mean 'most profitable' rather than 'most ethical'. If it's ethics you want, then frankly Gordon Gekko here doesn't give a shit.
Monday
Zen 1072: Take one cinema full of mean looking bike dudes and insert couple on a date...
I know it's an advert but it's still very good. I'm sure there's something interesting I could say about social conditioning and the need to conform, but it's Monday morning and nobody needs that kind of shit on a Monday morning.
Zen 1071: Fly-over of Earth from the International Space Station
Timelapse photography from the ISS. Just brilliant.
Saturday
Zen 1070: Oh bloody hell, I only went out to mow the lawn
This is what happens when you combine OCD, tools and a spare Saturday afternoon.
Still, at least the half tonne of rubble explains why the lawn never took. And I'm definitely fit to play.
Still, at least the half tonne of rubble explains why the lawn never took. And I'm definitely fit to play.
Thursday
Zen 1069: Troy Davis was properly guilty and pretending he was innocent is completely missing the point
The US state of Georgia has just executed Troy Davis, a 42-year-old black man, for the 1989 shooting murder of off-duty policeman Mark MacPhail. The case became something of a cause célèbre as various luminaries, supported by Amnesty International, tried to get him off the hook. The case against him was presented as flawed and the sentence as a gross miscarriage of justice.
But if you review the evidence, neither claim seems to hold water.
True, no murder weapon was recovered and no DNA linked Davis to the scene, but that's only relevant if those two facts are all the prosecution rests on.
In Davis's case, shell casings from the same .38 were found at the murder site and at the scene of another, earlier shooting in which Davis was also identified as the shooter. That's very good physical evidence by any standard.
And then there's the fact that he was positively identified as the shooter by nine witnesses. Much is made of the statistic that seven of these later recanted or were proved unreliable. But how important is this?
A witness who changes their testimony has, by definition, lied. It's up to the court to then decide where the lie occurred - at the original trial due to coercion or dishonesty, or later when the witness had a change of heart about sending a man to his death. Given the multiple reviews of the evidence by many and diverse legal bodies, I think we know the answer.
In fact, a total of 34 witnesses testified in the trial, repeatedly and independently corroborating the prosecution case.
Then there's the under-reported detail that Davis ran away after the murder and had to be brought back to Georgia. And a pair of his shorts speckled with blood were recovered from his mother's house, but ruled inadmissible on a technicality.
Davis was convicted of both shootings by a majority black jury. The case went through every possible legal review process and the safeness off the conviction was upheld at every stage.
What seems to have happened here is the manufacturing of the impression that the conviction was unsafe.
Why seems obvious. People oppose the death penalty and it's important for them that they fight it. But in this case, I'd seriously question the tactics. Really, it shouldn't matter a damn if the conviction is safe or not. Protesters shouldn't feel the need to hypocritically smear another man (Sylvester 'Redd' Coles) on the basis of no evidence at all just because he was there. They shouldn't feel the need to make Davis out to be a better man than he was, especially when beyond reasonable doubt he was a cold-blooded killer who for reasons known only to himself took the life of another man, making that other man's wife a widow and depriving his children of a father.
If the thing you disagree with is judicial murder, say that. Oppose it on the merits of your argument. Take up the cause of the other guy, executed the same day in Texas - a white supremacist who dragged a black man to his death behind his truck - and oppose his execution. He didn't deserve the first damn jot of mercy or consideration, but if the thing you believe in is the sanctity of human life, then say that.
Oppose it on principle, you jackasses, or don't bother opposing it at all.
 |
| The victim on his wedding day - because I'm sick of looking at pictures of the guy who killed him |
True, no murder weapon was recovered and no DNA linked Davis to the scene, but that's only relevant if those two facts are all the prosecution rests on.
In Davis's case, shell casings from the same .38 were found at the murder site and at the scene of another, earlier shooting in which Davis was also identified as the shooter. That's very good physical evidence by any standard.
And then there's the fact that he was positively identified as the shooter by nine witnesses. Much is made of the statistic that seven of these later recanted or were proved unreliable. But how important is this?
A witness who changes their testimony has, by definition, lied. It's up to the court to then decide where the lie occurred - at the original trial due to coercion or dishonesty, or later when the witness had a change of heart about sending a man to his death. Given the multiple reviews of the evidence by many and diverse legal bodies, I think we know the answer.
In fact, a total of 34 witnesses testified in the trial, repeatedly and independently corroborating the prosecution case.
Then there's the under-reported detail that Davis ran away after the murder and had to be brought back to Georgia. And a pair of his shorts speckled with blood were recovered from his mother's house, but ruled inadmissible on a technicality.
Davis was convicted of both shootings by a majority black jury. The case went through every possible legal review process and the safeness off the conviction was upheld at every stage.
What seems to have happened here is the manufacturing of the impression that the conviction was unsafe.
Why seems obvious. People oppose the death penalty and it's important for them that they fight it. But in this case, I'd seriously question the tactics. Really, it shouldn't matter a damn if the conviction is safe or not. Protesters shouldn't feel the need to hypocritically smear another man (Sylvester 'Redd' Coles) on the basis of no evidence at all just because he was there. They shouldn't feel the need to make Davis out to be a better man than he was, especially when beyond reasonable doubt he was a cold-blooded killer who for reasons known only to himself took the life of another man, making that other man's wife a widow and depriving his children of a father.
If the thing you disagree with is judicial murder, say that. Oppose it on the merits of your argument. Take up the cause of the other guy, executed the same day in Texas - a white supremacist who dragged a black man to his death behind his truck - and oppose his execution. He didn't deserve the first damn jot of mercy or consideration, but if the thing you believe in is the sanctity of human life, then say that.
Oppose it on principle, you jackasses, or don't bother opposing it at all.
Zen 1068: What the f*ck Italy - seismologists charged with manslaughter for failing to predict Aquila earthquake
Not content with having the world's most embarrassing prime minister, Italy is now attempting to make itself a scientific laughing stock by accusing six seismologists and one government official of manslaughter for failing to issue stern enough warnings about an impending earthquake that hit the village of Onna, killing more than 300 people.
Just to be clear, earthquake prediction is a precise science like astrology is a precise science. To put someone on trial for failing to predict one is akin to burning witches when your crops fail.
One would hope this has zero chance of a successful prosecution, but it sets an ugly precedent. That said, the idea of criminalising the art of prediction has its attractions, but at the other end of the spectrum where scientists are constantly making stupid and baseless predictions with near total impunity. But I guess we'd better see how the whole climate change thing pans out first.
Just to be clear, earthquake prediction is a precise science like astrology is a precise science. To put someone on trial for failing to predict one is akin to burning witches when your crops fail.
One would hope this has zero chance of a successful prosecution, but it sets an ugly precedent. That said, the idea of criminalising the art of prediction has its attractions, but at the other end of the spectrum where scientists are constantly making stupid and baseless predictions with near total impunity. But I guess we'd better see how the whole climate change thing pans out first.
Zen 1067: Founder of Wikileaks unhappy that his private data has made its way into the public domain without his permission
Ah, the delicious irony. Unbearably smug control-freak and founder of Wikileaks Julian Assange is hopping mad that publishers Canongate have gone ahead and published an 'unauthorised' biography - available today in all good bookshops and on Kindle from today! - despite his express wishes that they shouldn't.
When we say 'unauthorised', what we actually mean is that Julian signed a contract to do a ghost-written biography, then backed out but refused to repay his sizeable advance.
According to Assange, who is an authority on freedom of information: ""The events surrounding its unauthorised publication by Canongate are not about freedom of information.They are about old-fashioned opportunism and duplicity - screwing people over to make a buck."
Canongate responded: "On 7 June 2011, with 38 publishing houses around the world committed to releasing the book, Julian told us he wanted to cancel his contract. However, he had already signed his advance over to his lawyers to settle his legal bills. We have decided to honour that contract and to publish. Once the advance has been earned out, we will continue to honour the contract and pay Julian royalties."
Which seems fair.
When we say 'unauthorised', what we actually mean is that Julian signed a contract to do a ghost-written biography, then backed out but refused to repay his sizeable advance.
According to Assange, who is an authority on freedom of information: ""The events surrounding its unauthorised publication by Canongate are not about freedom of information.They are about old-fashioned opportunism and duplicity - screwing people over to make a buck."
Canongate responded: "On 7 June 2011, with 38 publishing houses around the world committed to releasing the book, Julian told us he wanted to cancel his contract. However, he had already signed his advance over to his lawyers to settle his legal bills. We have decided to honour that contract and to publish. Once the advance has been earned out, we will continue to honour the contract and pay Julian royalties."
Which seems fair.
Wednesday
Zen 1066: Insert obligatory beaver stuffing joke here
Chuck Testa specialises in the most lifelike dead animals anywhere. This is his advert.
Tuesday
Zen 1065: England officially the worst team at Rugby World Cup 2011
I've reviewed the press coverage of England's performance against Georgia in last weekend's pool match and waded through the self-flagellation that the players themselves have indulged in since, and there's only one conclusion - England are the worst team in the tournament. Perhaps the worst team ever to wear an England shirt. If possible, we should withdraw them, have them summarily executed and their ashes scattered on landfill. Things are that bad.
Compare their two lacklustre victories to the cavalcade of excellence we've witnessed in other matches. You wouldn't catch a professional outfit like Australia going off the boil like England have done.
Consider Wales. They've been superb. They beat the whole of Samoa. Or New Zealand, ferociously tested by the white hot intensity of a Japanese team that almost turned up. And holders South Africa? You don't see anyone saying they're only unbeaten because a bunch of leek-eating girly men choked, now do you?
And that's before we even get to the off-pitch antics of the England players, who have been filmed frequenting alcohol beer bars where there are ladies who have breasts. Do these men not take their membership of the Taliban seriously? They'll be jibbing out of suicide bombings next.
For me, no one put it better than Georgia captain, Adrianus Madeupquoteski, who quite rightly felt utterly robbed and defiled after running the men in white so close on Saturday.
"I was disgusted," he said, "Johnny Wilkinson quite literally failed to shit rainbows."
Let's end this debacle now.
Consider Wales. They've been superb. They beat the whole of Samoa. Or New Zealand, ferociously tested by the white hot intensity of a Japanese team that almost turned up. And holders South Africa? You don't see anyone saying they're only unbeaten because a bunch of leek-eating girly men choked, now do you?
And that's before we even get to the off-pitch antics of the England players, who have been filmed frequenting alcohol beer bars where there are ladies who have breasts. Do these men not take their membership of the Taliban seriously? They'll be jibbing out of suicide bombings next.
For me, no one put it better than Georgia captain, Adrianus Madeupquoteski, who quite rightly felt utterly robbed and defiled after running the men in white so close on Saturday.
"I was disgusted," he said, "Johnny Wilkinson quite literally failed to shit rainbows."
Let's end this debacle now.
Zen 1064: Dudes play Chinese whispers via You Tube closed captions with hilarious results
You Tube has this thing called 'Closed Captions' that interprets what's being said in a video and renders as text captions underneath. It's very fallible. Rhett and Link, the dudes who do epic adverts for local firms, did a clever thing. They ran a phone conversation through Closed Captions, then re-enacted the Closed Caption version, then re-enacted the Closed Caption version of the Closed Caption version. It's strangely magical
Monday
Zen 1063: You may think that 'God hates fags', but everybody loves the Foo Fighters
The Westboro Baptist Church are a charmless bunch of negative publicity seekers whose notoriety is entirely out of proportion to their size and influence. They deserve to be ignored, but constantly resurface in the public consciousness by doing terrible things like picketing the funerals of soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The good citizens of America have devised a number of witty counter-protests. One town even organised a mass participation parking blockade to prevent the 'church' members appearing at the memorial service of a local soldier.
Then Westboro Baptist Church decided to picket those notorious peddlars of filth and corruption, the Foo Fighters, at a recent gig in Kansas. Cue Dave Grohl and the gang, appearing outside the venue on the back of a truck, 'disguised' as rednecks and performing an anthem to man-love called 'Keep It Clean'.
"Ladies and gentlemen, God bless America! Land of the free, home of the brave! I don't care if you're black or white or purple or green, whether you're Pennsylvanian or Transylvanian..."
Like.
The good citizens of America have devised a number of witty counter-protests. One town even organised a mass participation parking blockade to prevent the 'church' members appearing at the memorial service of a local soldier.
Then Westboro Baptist Church decided to picket those notorious peddlars of filth and corruption, the Foo Fighters, at a recent gig in Kansas. Cue Dave Grohl and the gang, appearing outside the venue on the back of a truck, 'disguised' as rednecks and performing an anthem to man-love called 'Keep It Clean'.
"Ladies and gentlemen, God bless America! Land of the free, home of the brave! I don't care if you're black or white or purple or green, whether you're Pennsylvanian or Transylvanian..."
Like.
Friday
Zen 1062: Jedi Kittens - a double whammy of intoxicating cute *plus light sabres* - who could resist?
If this doesn't put a smile on your face, you probably have dead call girls under your patio. Or worse. You don't like Star Wars. Oh, the humanity.
And the sequel. Flying kittehs! Too cool!
And the sequel. Flying kittehs! Too cool!
Zen 1061: Berlusconi calls Merkel an 'unfuckable lard arse'
Bet you the BBC aren't running with that headline.
The ever priapic septuagenarian apparently used this charming description of his German counterpart in a taped conversation with a newspaper editor who procured hookers for his 'bunga bunga' parties. Classy.
I have no view on the fuckability or otherwise of Ms Merkel, but at the very least it seems an ungallant thing to have said. It's also potentially reckless for a man who could well be begging the Germans for a bailout in the none-too-distant future.
The ever priapic septuagenarian apparently used this charming description of his German counterpart in a taped conversation with a newspaper editor who procured hookers for his 'bunga bunga' parties. Classy.
I have no view on the fuckability or otherwise of Ms Merkel, but at the very least it seems an ungallant thing to have said. It's also potentially reckless for a man who could well be begging the Germans for a bailout in the none-too-distant future.
Thursday
Zen 1060: So he's admitted to plagiarism, deception and malicious Wiki edits - what *does* it take for Johann Hari to get fired?
Johann Hari's piece in today's Independent is a thing of soaring majesty, it really is. Rarely can such an unreflective, unremittingly pompous, disingenuous, mealy-mouthed self-justification have masqueraded under the title of 'an apology'. How the prick managed to get this published in a national newspaper and somehow keep his miserable excuse of a job just underlines the depths to which the British dead tree press has slumped.
Don't get me wrong, our newspapers have always had their feet in the gutter while reaching down into the sewer, but the broadsheets used to have some standards. A safe working assumption, for example, might have been that a broadsheet hack who admitted to plagiarism and was exposed publicly as a liar who set out to maliciously damage the reputations of his rivals would get fired.
Not so Hari, it seems, which does rather beg the question of what the little shit has on them. He's reputationally bankrupt, so why in god's name would the Indie keep him on the books let alone provide him with a mouthpiece? It's all very fishy.
Just to save you the trouble of reading his mea culpa, I've paraphrased it below.
"Hello. I'm going to explain something. You are thick. I am going to explain it slowly, using little words.
I plagiarised many if the people I interviewed. This is because I am a really good journalist. Plagiarism is really a matter of grammar. You are thick, so you may not understand.
I edited many people's Wikipedia entries under a false name. I did this because I am a really good journalist and I care. Those people I labelled drunks and anti-Semites weren't either of those things. But that's not important and you wouldn't understand anyway. Because you are thick and I am a very clever journalist who cares.
I have agreed to undertake some journalistic training. I'm going to pay for this myself. It's going to make me an even more brilliant journalist.
Finally, I have returned the Orwell Prize which I won for some of the stories I fabricated. This is because they are bastards who don't understand my genius.
I am terrific. You are morons.
Love,
Johann"
Don't get me wrong, our newspapers have always had their feet in the gutter while reaching down into the sewer, but the broadsheets used to have some standards. A safe working assumption, for example, might have been that a broadsheet hack who admitted to plagiarism and was exposed publicly as a liar who set out to maliciously damage the reputations of his rivals would get fired.
Not so Hari, it seems, which does rather beg the question of what the little shit has on them. He's reputationally bankrupt, so why in god's name would the Indie keep him on the books let alone provide him with a mouthpiece? It's all very fishy.
Just to save you the trouble of reading his mea culpa, I've paraphrased it below.
"Hello. I'm going to explain something. You are thick. I am going to explain it slowly, using little words.
I plagiarised many if the people I interviewed. This is because I am a really good journalist. Plagiarism is really a matter of grammar. You are thick, so you may not understand.
I edited many people's Wikipedia entries under a false name. I did this because I am a really good journalist and I care. Those people I labelled drunks and anti-Semites weren't either of those things. But that's not important and you wouldn't understand anyway. Because you are thick and I am a very clever journalist who cares.
I have agreed to undertake some journalistic training. I'm going to pay for this myself. It's going to make me an even more brilliant journalist.
Finally, I have returned the Orwell Prize which I won for some of the stories I fabricated. This is because they are bastards who don't understand my genius.
I am terrific. You are morons.
Love,
Johann"
Wednesday
Zen 1059: UPDATED: Interview with the guy under the car - crowd lift burning car off injured man
UPDATED: Interview with the rider "I should have died several times" [LINK]
********
He lived, despite the ugly, rag-dolly appearance and the fact that he'd been squashed flat without a helmet on. I say he lived. He was alive at the time of writing. Well done people. Burning cars blow up. They did a brave and brilliant thing.
I think the dude watching probably underdid the drama by his usual standards. Restraint and heroism. What a video.
********
He lived, despite the ugly, rag-dolly appearance and the fact that he'd been squashed flat without a helmet on. I say he lived. He was alive at the time of writing. Well done people. Burning cars blow up. They did a brave and brilliant thing.
I think the dude watching probably underdid the drama by his usual standards. Restraint and heroism. What a video.
Zen 1058: For anyone who doesn't think graffiti is about the best art going these days...
It's a Hungarian collection, it's a year old and some of them are actually pretty crap, but I'd suggest that there are more original and thought-provoking ideas represented here than the Turner prize has produced in a decade.
Street Art Utopia [LINK]
Street Art Utopia [LINK]
Tuesday
Zen 1056: Any fekkin' stereotyping here and I'll hit ye with me shillelagh, begorrah
They've really gone for it. Talk about working the brand. There's racks and racks of this shit.
Zen 1055: The only thing more impressive than this juggling routine is the number of lame 'balls' gags in the comments
In a different era, they would burn her as a witch.
Monday
Zen 1054: Human slingshot looks so much fun you may start to question the meaning of existence
OK, so many of the people in this video would make you want to chew off your own hands after 20 mins, but this looks so much fun I'd be prepared to let that pass.
Saturday
Zen 1053: Friesian Taxis anyone? Be quick, the sloes are here...
Summer is officially over. It might be humid today, but in our hearts we know we're on the slippery downward slope to ten months of cold, shite weather to complement the preceding four months of warm, shite weather we've just enjoyed.
Happily, this means it's also time to lay in stocks for the winter, so you never have to leave your front door to get properly and professionally spangled if you don't want to.
With this pleasant thought in mind, it is beholden upon me to tell you that this year's crop of sloes is ready. Leastways, the stuff facing South is and the stuff facing North is about two weeks behind.
Pick, freeze (if you want to be purist about it) and bottle with gin and a quantity of sugar to make a drink that gets in your mouth, makes polite conversation with your tongue for about half-an-hour and then sneaks upstairs to have dirty sex with your brain on top of all the guests' coats.
It's so wrong, but it feels so right.
Happily, this means it's also time to lay in stocks for the winter, so you never have to leave your front door to get properly and professionally spangled if you don't want to.
With this pleasant thought in mind, it is beholden upon me to tell you that this year's crop of sloes is ready. Leastways, the stuff facing South is and the stuff facing North is about two weeks behind.
Pick, freeze (if you want to be purist about it) and bottle with gin and a quantity of sugar to make a drink that gets in your mouth, makes polite conversation with your tongue for about half-an-hour and then sneaks upstairs to have dirty sex with your brain on top of all the guests' coats.
It's so wrong, but it feels so right.
Friday
Zen 1052: Brazilian rugby will be great - possibly the best rugby ads ever made
"Do you know when the world's best player was born? ... It doesn't matter."
Genuinely superb.
Genuinely superb.
Zen 1051: 'I have just read that I am dead. Please delete me from your list of subscribers' - Wikipedia's list of premature obituaries
Happened upon this Wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_premature_obituaries which details a fabulous variety of premature obituaries, brought about by a variety of spoofs, faked deaths, bungled assassinations, hoaxes and criminal deception.
My personal top four are:
Rudyard Kipling, who, upon reading in a magazine that he was dead, wrote to them to remind them to cancel his subscription.
Robert Graves, author of the best World War One biography ever written, who was left for dead on a stretcher after being 'fatally' wounded through the lung in 1916. He didn't tell anyone he was alive because he'd heard it was better to be left still rather than moved after such a wound. He was reported dead in The Times, but survived, living until 1985.
Donald Rumsfeld, who was accidentally announced as dead by CNN.com. His obit had been adapted from that of the Queen Mother and referred to him as, among other things, 'the nation's favourite grandmother'.
Shoichi Yokoi, who was a Japanese soldier defending Guam in 1945 and went into hiding until he was coaxed out in 1972 by old soldiers sent to convince him the war was over. He returned to Japan a hero, but was mortified, saying: "It is with much embarrassment that I have returned alive". This became something of a national catchphrase.
My personal top four are:
Rudyard Kipling, who, upon reading in a magazine that he was dead, wrote to them to remind them to cancel his subscription.
Robert Graves, author of the best World War One biography ever written, who was left for dead on a stretcher after being 'fatally' wounded through the lung in 1916. He didn't tell anyone he was alive because he'd heard it was better to be left still rather than moved after such a wound. He was reported dead in The Times, but survived, living until 1985.
Donald Rumsfeld, who was accidentally announced as dead by CNN.com. His obit had been adapted from that of the Queen Mother and referred to him as, among other things, 'the nation's favourite grandmother'.
Shoichi Yokoi, who was a Japanese soldier defending Guam in 1945 and went into hiding until he was coaxed out in 1972 by old soldiers sent to convince him the war was over. He returned to Japan a hero, but was mortified, saying: "It is with much embarrassment that I have returned alive". This became something of a national catchphrase.
Zen 1050: Now really, do you *honestly* find this footage of a female astronaut drinking water in space incredibly erotic?
It turns out that the answer to that is 'yes'. Quite emphatically. There's already a version voiced by Barry White. I'm ambivalent about this. It's clearly a right-on moment, depicting women at the very forefront of pioneering science. But at the same time, it's quite ... errr ... watchable. Ahem.
Thursday
Otter Zen: An apology, plus some Nyan Cat stuff to keep you going
Hello everyone. I need to apologise for the patchiness of Otter Zen in recent weeks, but I've been jolly busy with all sorts of important stuff. For many of you, this period will have been a blessed relief from the ceaseless deluge of barely literate ranting and ropey You Choob videos that you are normally subjected to on a daily basis. I'm hoping something like normal service will resume before long (sorry for those who are enjoying the tap being temporarily switched off) but in the meantime, here's a whole vomitorium's worth of Nyan Cat.
And some precocious Nyan Cat reaction:
And the Nyan Cat dance:
And the Bollywood version:
And some girl playing in on a violin:
And the epic movie version:
And some precocious Nyan Cat reaction:
And the Nyan Cat dance:
And the Bollywood version:
And some girl playing in on a violin:
And the epic movie version:
Tuesday
Zen 1049: Kurt Vonnegut's highly entertaining talk on the shapes of stories
"The shoe fits and she achieves off-scale happiness." It's just brilliant. Unfortunately, I can't find the video of the whole talk, but here's a link to the transcript: TRANSCRIPT [LINK]. If I find it, I'll post an update.
Monday
Zen 1047: Happy Birthday Freddie, you lunatic, hyper-camp, spandex-wearing, four-octave, operatically splendid bastard
You might expect that I wouldn't like Queen and I'd like Freddie Mercury even less, but you'd be wrong. Here, writ large, is the power of the First Album. My first album was a bootleg, recorded off my uncle's brand-spanking new 'Queen: Greatest Hits' album onto a green C60 cassette by the magical medium of my dad's equally brand-spanking new Dynatron, which had Dolby and everything.
My dad didn't like Queen. I suspect he thought they were a bit poofy. I fucking loved them. At the time, I didn't know that music was made by people who were still alive, so the advent of 'Hot Space', released a year later, utterly passed me by, except for the fact that Freddie had done a duet with this spooky-eyed dude called David Bowie and that was pretty cool. I still thought they were both probably dead when it was recorded.
The advent of 'Radio Ga Ga' in 1984 was, therefore, an absolute revelation. Queen were not only alive, but making some pretty epic music. I thought the lyrics to Radio Ga Ga were stupid, but Hammer to Fall rocked a phat one and who doesn't like a bit of mustachioed cross-dressing with their 'I Want to Break Free'? Redneck Americans, that's who. Queen unbreaks America.
Sadly, Queen's output from that date is a story of decline and fall, punctuated by possibly the finest display of show-stealing of all time at Live Aid in 1985 and the sheer kick-assness of Wembley 1986.
I also bought Freddie's solo albums 'Mr Bad Guy', 'Barcelona' and 'The Great Pretender', but I don't like to talk about that.
Happy Birthday Freddie. You were a one-off.
My dad didn't like Queen. I suspect he thought they were a bit poofy. I fucking loved them. At the time, I didn't know that music was made by people who were still alive, so the advent of 'Hot Space', released a year later, utterly passed me by, except for the fact that Freddie had done a duet with this spooky-eyed dude called David Bowie and that was pretty cool. I still thought they were both probably dead when it was recorded.
The advent of 'Radio Ga Ga' in 1984 was, therefore, an absolute revelation. Queen were not only alive, but making some pretty epic music. I thought the lyrics to Radio Ga Ga were stupid, but Hammer to Fall rocked a phat one and who doesn't like a bit of mustachioed cross-dressing with their 'I Want to Break Free'? Redneck Americans, that's who. Queen unbreaks America.
Sadly, Queen's output from that date is a story of decline and fall, punctuated by possibly the finest display of show-stealing of all time at Live Aid in 1985 and the sheer kick-assness of Wembley 1986.
I also bought Freddie's solo albums 'Mr Bad Guy', 'Barcelona' and 'The Great Pretender', but I don't like to talk about that.
Happy Birthday Freddie. You were a one-off.
Zen 1046: Beyond astonishing - watch in slack-jawed amazement as this dude rips it up on his ukulele
You might think a ukulele is a gimmick instrument - a sort of guitar-for-midgets that looks just hilarious when played by big fat people. In most respects, you'd be right, but not when it comes to Jake Shimabakuro. What this guy can do with a ukulele defies explanation. He's unbelievable. Bow in the shadow of his ultimate ukuleleosity. Yeah, that's a word. Sure it is. Bow, damn you.
Friday
Zen 1045: Arabs undergo extraordinary makeover courtesy of Gadaffi, Mubarak, Assad et al
Two years ago, the prevailing depictions of Arab folk were several, but none of them positive.
There was the old reliable rabid mob, beating photographs and effigies with shoes and burning a seemingly endless supply of American flags.
Then there was the grim-faced terrorist, grandly proclaiming death, vengeance and lashings of hateful intolerance via shoddy Handycam footage before heroically blowing himself and some housewives up in the local market place. Occasionally you got his boss, pontificating from a cave before retiring to bash one out over his stash of Whitney porn.
Then there was the fat, moustachioed Oil Royal, wafting in on a magic cloud of suffocating cologne, furtively stroking his white dish-dash at some diplomatic shindig before spending the evening cruising the streets smashed off his tits on Johnny Walker behind the wheel of a gold-plated Lamborghini.
No more. Check out the shapes Arabs are throwing these days. Our screens are filled with happy-go-lucky freedom fighters toting unsuitable hardware and blithely riding a Toyota Hilux into the jaws of death.
These guys look more like a football crowd. They proclaim brotherhood for all under a fair system where their views are heard, not violently suppressed by some geriatric Twat in a Hat. Fresh faced girls flash V for Victory signs and march with the boys, even as the bad guys snipe at them from the rooftops. The Islamists with their odious dress code aren't even getting a look-in.
Where are the op-eds proclaiming the Arabs psychologically and philosophically unsuited to freedom and democracy now, eh?
Sure, there's still a long way to go and plenty could still go wrong, but there's no doubting these people know what words like 'freedom' mean and are prepared to fight and die in droves to get it.
It's a fair bet to say that the sheer bloody-minded heroism of the Syrians and the cheery flag-toting cavalcades of Libyans are a better and truer representation of a people than the medieval beardy fanatics and loathsome, gilt-braided tyrants.
Long may the makeover endure, and thank you, several and diverse bastards, for providing the inspiration.
There was the old reliable rabid mob, beating photographs and effigies with shoes and burning a seemingly endless supply of American flags.
Then there was the fat, moustachioed Oil Royal, wafting in on a magic cloud of suffocating cologne, furtively stroking his white dish-dash at some diplomatic shindig before spending the evening cruising the streets smashed off his tits on Johnny Walker behind the wheel of a gold-plated Lamborghini.
No more. Check out the shapes Arabs are throwing these days. Our screens are filled with happy-go-lucky freedom fighters toting unsuitable hardware and blithely riding a Toyota Hilux into the jaws of death.
These guys look more like a football crowd. They proclaim brotherhood for all under a fair system where their views are heard, not violently suppressed by some geriatric Twat in a Hat. Fresh faced girls flash V for Victory signs and march with the boys, even as the bad guys snipe at them from the rooftops. The Islamists with their odious dress code aren't even getting a look-in.
Where are the op-eds proclaiming the Arabs psychologically and philosophically unsuited to freedom and democracy now, eh?
Sure, there's still a long way to go and plenty could still go wrong, but there's no doubting these people know what words like 'freedom' mean and are prepared to fight and die in droves to get it.
It's a fair bet to say that the sheer bloody-minded heroism of the Syrians and the cheery flag-toting cavalcades of Libyans are a better and truer representation of a people than the medieval beardy fanatics and loathsome, gilt-braided tyrants.
Long may the makeover endure, and thank you, several and diverse bastards, for providing the inspiration.
Thursday
Zen 1044: If this doesn't make you smile, you have no soul
Don't get me wrong. It's camper than a row of tents painted onto the side of a combi standing in a marquee full of wigwams. But don't let that put you off. Embrace your inner fabulousness and thrill to the antics of these waffle munching tarts and poseurs cantering around to Julie Andrews. And then go eat some beef jerky smothered in Tabasco and broken glass to straighten yourself out again.
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