He really is.
You know what to do - just substitute Gordon for Gary. It's easy!
Elementary, really
I really thought it would bomb. I mean seriously, I thought it would be a right stinker.
I was convinced that Sherlock Holmes would be a terrible film, mainly because Guy Ritchie was at the helm. Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed Lock Stock and Snatch (the latter of which still has me in stitches) but he has really lost the plot in recent efforts such as RockNrolla and Revolver. To me, this looked like a disaster waiting to happen. In the trailers I would cringe when I saw Downey Jr. in those 'Jim West' style glasses, which I'm sure had the intention of looking risqué or cool, but failed miserably.
Much to my relief, it was a really good film. It actually gave me hope for big budget cinema this year and of course, gave me renewed faith in geeza fella Ritchie. It also filled me with glee to find that BBC film buff Mark Kermode felt the same way and now all is forgiven.
I was convinced that Sherlock Holmes would be a terrible film, mainly because Guy Ritchie was at the helm. Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed Lock Stock and Snatch (the latter of which still has me in stitches) but he has really lost the plot in recent efforts such as RockNrolla and Revolver. To me, this looked like a disaster waiting to happen. In the trailers I would cringe when I saw Downey Jr. in those 'Jim West' style glasses, which I'm sure had the intention of looking risqué or cool, but failed miserably.
Much to my relief, it was a really good film. It actually gave me hope for big budget cinema this year and of course, gave me renewed faith in geeza fella Ritchie. It also filled me with glee to find that BBC film buff Mark Kermode felt the same way and now all is forgiven.
The black stuff is ruining my life
It is everywhere; like some kind of alien fungi emerging to litter my carpets, dirty my car seats and if world domination isn't enough, somehow it will get onto every piece of clothing I own.
These small black pellets sent directly from hell are the unwanted passengers brought home with me after each trip to the Gol football centre. If you aren't familiar with Gol, you will definitely not know the pain of the crumbly, rubber pieces which make up the playing surface to give a "better feel to the game". It truly is state of the art stuff which offers a better experience than the conventional astroturf or concrete playing pitches than have been the norm for years. However as described in my opening sentence, their spread knows no bounds. I have always joked that I could start up my own football pitch with the amount of the stuff which accumulates on my bedroom floor.
Sorry for those who instantly thought I was suffering from too much Guinness, but I was so incensed by my day overcoming the black menace (please, please, please don't take that out of context) I thought I would blog. There's no New Year's Resolution about blogging this year, as is often customary for me every January 1st, for obvious reasons (if you know how often I blog even after threatening to do so, you will know why these are idle threats).
As my Facebook status has recently proclaimed, my New Year's Resolution is simply the following: be a wedding-planning homeowner. That means 2010 is going to be a big year because it means I have to grow up, pretty fast! Not to steal the Torchwood tagline too much about the 21st Century, but I know full well that 2010 will be the year where everything changes. But luckily for me, it will be in a good way. Plus - don't tell this to Jen - I am very slowly coming round to the idea of having a dog once we get a place. Before we met the idea of getting one was absolutely remote. Now it is just, well.... less remote.
These small black pellets sent directly from hell are the unwanted passengers brought home with me after each trip to the Gol football centre. If you aren't familiar with Gol, you will definitely not know the pain of the crumbly, rubber pieces which make up the playing surface to give a "better feel to the game". It truly is state of the art stuff which offers a better experience than the conventional astroturf or concrete playing pitches than have been the norm for years. However as described in my opening sentence, their spread knows no bounds. I have always joked that I could start up my own football pitch with the amount of the stuff which accumulates on my bedroom floor.
Sorry for those who instantly thought I was suffering from too much Guinness, but I was so incensed by my day overcoming the black menace (please, please, please don't take that out of context) I thought I would blog. There's no New Year's Resolution about blogging this year, as is often customary for me every January 1st, for obvious reasons (if you know how often I blog even after threatening to do so, you will know why these are idle threats).
As my Facebook status has recently proclaimed, my New Year's Resolution is simply the following: be a wedding-planning homeowner. That means 2010 is going to be a big year because it means I have to grow up, pretty fast! Not to steal the Torchwood tagline too much about the 21st Century, but I know full well that 2010 will be the year where everything changes. But luckily for me, it will be in a good way. Plus - don't tell this to Jen - I am very slowly coming round to the idea of having a dog once we get a place. Before we met the idea of getting one was absolutely remote. Now it is just, well.... less remote.
Or you gonna do what they told ya?
Well a new X Factor champion was crowned and now the whole of the UK can finally come off the edge of their seats. My Sunday night will now won't be the same for another 8-9 months - I'm going to miss those incredibly passionate Facebook updates claiming injustice (Fix, fix, fix!), racism (that Simon Cowell don't like us Welsh) or absolute disgust over whose who do or don't stay in.
As you can gather, I'm not a fan. However I did watch it a little bit and try to feign some interest, just to know what everyone was going on about (I was convinced Jedward was some place by Newcastle at first). In fact, I've just started my mini-protest by joining another bandwagon - the bid to make Rage Against The Machine the Christmas Number one single. The campaign on Facebook has been going for weeks and has had some good media coverage (I heard from NME). It has been the strongest of some sister campaigns (there's also a Journey - Don't Stop Believin' for No.1 Facebook group somewhere) and now it is believed that the bookies are sweating. Odds have been slashed from 100-1 to 3-1 after the publicity it has gathered. But the bookies aren't the only one whose sweating - Cowell has been on the defensive, branding the campaign as 'stupid'. So tonight I've just bought my copy of Killing in the Name from iTunes. Take that Cowell and Co! You like that? You want some more? I'll just buy another from a different IP address! Hah!
Before I carry on with the Cowell bashing, I have to take a step back and fully realise what I'm actually doing. I already own Killing in the Name from the RATM Album, so I've effectively just paid 99p for another copy of a song I already have. Why? To hope that I and the 700,000+ others will actually effect the Christmas Number 1 by buying copying of the song, to outsell the X Factor single (really, a Miley Cyrus cover?) which has now been released after the result.
It does seem a bit silly. There are some commentators who say this is a waste of time for many reasons. For one, Cowell probably isn't sweating in reality, because RATM are signed up to Sony and he is likely to benefit from the sales just as much as Geordie Joe. Therefore you probably not taking two fingers up to him financially by buying a copy. Secondly, it isn't a true reflection of Christmas and Killing In The Name is a song from the ninties (although that didn't stop that awful Mad World taking it - yeah that's right, I hated that song). Lastly, surely this campaign can't win? The Christmas number one is truly monopolised these days and it will take more than a bunch of Raged Facebookers to turn the tide when you consider the sheer weight of the X Factor brand.
When it comes down to it, I played along and invested my hard-earned 99p not just for a bit of fun, but it is just one giant experiment to truly test the power of social networking on a annual tradition which has completely changed over the years. With the decline of the CD single and the rise of digital downloads, it meant the floodgates had opened. This means that songs from any era that people buy could be counted towards the music chart. Remember that song by Black Sabbath you always liked but never had? Well now you can own it if it's available online and if a helluva lot of people feel the same way, you can actually influence the weekly chart. But with that, you have to consider the musical zeitgeist of the day on the habits of people's downloading. For example, when Michael Jackson died, it was inevitable that the charts would be flooded with Thriller, Beat It, Bille Jean and so on. If a new Rockband/Guitar Hero game is out of a particular band e.g. The Beatles, it would be no suprise that Hey Jude would sit top of the pile. The campaign of viral messages, Twitter posts and Facebook groups are proven effective communication tools. But could it shape future Christmas number ones?
For me, the Christmas number one stopped being the Christmas number one when the X Factor bullied and assumed the right to it a few years back. Maybe I don't know what the perfect Crimbo song sounds like, but for a start I'd like it to be... well, Christmassy! Stick some bells in there, with a choir or something! But now the whole thing is a sham, with absolute predictability and zero Crimbo content. I mean c'mon, at least Killing in the Name has some cow bell....
As you can gather, I'm not a fan. However I did watch it a little bit and try to feign some interest, just to know what everyone was going on about (I was convinced Jedward was some place by Newcastle at first). In fact, I've just started my mini-protest by joining another bandwagon - the bid to make Rage Against The Machine the Christmas Number one single. The campaign on Facebook has been going for weeks and has had some good media coverage (I heard from NME). It has been the strongest of some sister campaigns (there's also a Journey - Don't Stop Believin' for No.1 Facebook group somewhere) and now it is believed that the bookies are sweating. Odds have been slashed from 100-1 to 3-1 after the publicity it has gathered. But the bookies aren't the only one whose sweating - Cowell has been on the defensive, branding the campaign as 'stupid'. So tonight I've just bought my copy of Killing in the Name from iTunes. Take that Cowell and Co! You like that? You want some more? I'll just buy another from a different IP address! Hah!
Before I carry on with the Cowell bashing, I have to take a step back and fully realise what I'm actually doing. I already own Killing in the Name from the RATM Album, so I've effectively just paid 99p for another copy of a song I already have. Why? To hope that I and the 700,000+ others will actually effect the Christmas Number 1 by buying copying of the song, to outsell the X Factor single (really, a Miley Cyrus cover?) which has now been released after the result.
It does seem a bit silly. There are some commentators who say this is a waste of time for many reasons. For one, Cowell probably isn't sweating in reality, because RATM are signed up to Sony and he is likely to benefit from the sales just as much as Geordie Joe. Therefore you probably not taking two fingers up to him financially by buying a copy. Secondly, it isn't a true reflection of Christmas and Killing In The Name is a song from the ninties (although that didn't stop that awful Mad World taking it - yeah that's right, I hated that song). Lastly, surely this campaign can't win? The Christmas number one is truly monopolised these days and it will take more than a bunch of Raged Facebookers to turn the tide when you consider the sheer weight of the X Factor brand.
When it comes down to it, I played along and invested my hard-earned 99p not just for a bit of fun, but it is just one giant experiment to truly test the power of social networking on a annual tradition which has completely changed over the years. With the decline of the CD single and the rise of digital downloads, it meant the floodgates had opened. This means that songs from any era that people buy could be counted towards the music chart. Remember that song by Black Sabbath you always liked but never had? Well now you can own it if it's available online and if a helluva lot of people feel the same way, you can actually influence the weekly chart. But with that, you have to consider the musical zeitgeist of the day on the habits of people's downloading. For example, when Michael Jackson died, it was inevitable that the charts would be flooded with Thriller, Beat It, Bille Jean and so on. If a new Rockband/Guitar Hero game is out of a particular band e.g. The Beatles, it would be no suprise that Hey Jude would sit top of the pile. The campaign of viral messages, Twitter posts and Facebook groups are proven effective communication tools. But could it shape future Christmas number ones?
For me, the Christmas number one stopped being the Christmas number one when the X Factor bullied and assumed the right to it a few years back. Maybe I don't know what the perfect Crimbo song sounds like, but for a start I'd like it to be... well, Christmassy! Stick some bells in there, with a choir or something! But now the whole thing is a sham, with absolute predictability and zero Crimbo content. I mean c'mon, at least Killing in the Name has some cow bell....
The Blurst of Times
It is the blurst of times. The word 'meh' is perhaps the best way to describe it.
This week's TTFE-L game has given me some real food for thought. To summarise, we conceded against the run of play, then went 3 goals down, strewn chance after chance and were humbled by a side we beat 12-2 in a reverse fixture. Losing 3-1, it was a match which could have unearthed as many footballing cliches as a Mick McCarthy post match interview, but above all we just didn't take our chances.
Games like these should make it think that some teams, maybe all, just have a bad day at the office. But maybe I delude myself in thinking that we are often better than we are, or perhaps, I am better than what I am. We all make mistakes - but I often think I don't learn from them enough and that is what is most important (great, another cliche).
Were we bad? Perhaps. We should be playing better with a full squad against a bare five side and now we've had a while to gel, teething problems are no excuse. It was a far cry from last week, summed up nicely by Riv (and honestly, it isn't because of the kudos I got). Is it OTT to say this result was a backward step?
I think above all, games like these often make me think about the performance too much. When I go on a gut feeling and strip the result from the equation, the lads put in a good shift. The thoughts after the game seemed to sum up just that. I just can't decide whether the result was good or bad really, avoiding the obvious nature of a loss denoting some kind of negativity. It's just meh.
Kind of the way I feel about Copenhagen too which starts tomorrow. I really can't get excited about it, nor think of it as some kind of lost cause just yet. It certainly has relevance for raising the issue of climate change, in fact it should actually do something about it. But I just can't muster the enthusaism to think it will actually do anything at all useful. It feels almost like the last roll of the dice on a global scale and I hope it wont be just another giant white elephant gesture just like Kyoto. Meh.
This week's TTFE-L game has given me some real food for thought. To summarise, we conceded against the run of play, then went 3 goals down, strewn chance after chance and were humbled by a side we beat 12-2 in a reverse fixture. Losing 3-1, it was a match which could have unearthed as many footballing cliches as a Mick McCarthy post match interview, but above all we just didn't take our chances.
Games like these should make it think that some teams, maybe all, just have a bad day at the office. But maybe I delude myself in thinking that we are often better than we are, or perhaps, I am better than what I am. We all make mistakes - but I often think I don't learn from them enough and that is what is most important (great, another cliche).
Were we bad? Perhaps. We should be playing better with a full squad against a bare five side and now we've had a while to gel, teething problems are no excuse. It was a far cry from last week, summed up nicely by Riv (and honestly, it isn't because of the kudos I got). Is it OTT to say this result was a backward step?
I think above all, games like these often make me think about the performance too much. When I go on a gut feeling and strip the result from the equation, the lads put in a good shift. The thoughts after the game seemed to sum up just that. I just can't decide whether the result was good or bad really, avoiding the obvious nature of a loss denoting some kind of negativity. It's just meh.
Kind of the way I feel about Copenhagen too which starts tomorrow. I really can't get excited about it, nor think of it as some kind of lost cause just yet. It certainly has relevance for raising the issue of climate change, in fact it should actually do something about it. But I just can't muster the enthusaism to think it will actually do anything at all useful. It feels almost like the last roll of the dice on a global scale and I hope it wont be just another giant white elephant gesture just like Kyoto. Meh.
Happy?
An empty thought
A niggle but a hole
A tarnish on a perfect weekend
I am rich in so many ways
But not enough to fill the void
A CD rack in A to Z
A pointy finger
A drop in the ocean
A toy camel made in Africa
Nestles proudly on my desk
Like my own plastic Arabia.
But I had to have it
Camels are essential
They enrich the soul
Make me culturally aware
And looks nice next to the phone
It makes me happy.
But I need another one
Cos Arabia never stood still
And accepted grey sand.
If we all accepted sand, maybe, just maybe
There would be no reason to fill,
To Spill,
To Kill.
We'd all be happy.
A niggle but a hole
A tarnish on a perfect weekend
I am rich in so many ways
But not enough to fill the void
A CD rack in A to Z
A pointy finger
A drop in the ocean
A toy camel made in Africa
Nestles proudly on my desk
Like my own plastic Arabia.
But I had to have it
Camels are essential
They enrich the soul
Make me culturally aware
And looks nice next to the phone
It makes me happy.
But I need another one
Cos Arabia never stood still
And accepted grey sand.
If we all accepted sand, maybe, just maybe
There would be no reason to fill,
To Spill,
To Kill.
We'd all be happy.
"Kiss more babies"
I've returned. But for how long? Only time will tell. I decided that the old blog needed some loving and so here you go - One Man One Struggle in all its glory.
To kick off proceedings, I guess I better I blow off some of the cobwebs. So here, for the first time for your pleasure, is an draft of a post-in-progress from over 8 months ago. Enjoy!
As you can guess.. I never got around to finishing it... story of my life.
To kick off proceedings, I guess I better I blow off some of the cobwebs. So here, for the first time for your pleasure, is an draft of a post-in-progress from over 8 months ago. Enjoy!
Easter's been a hoot. Four days off to recharge the ole' batteries, four days to actually chill out for a change! Not to mention the new episodes of Red Dwarf, Doctor Who and huge helpings of The Wire to catch up on recorded on the Sky+ box. Therefore you can probably deduce that the majority of my Easter has been spent inside and not in this glorious weather that we're having!
But that isn't to say I have been cooped up all the time. I did manage to see some Blues Brothers impersonators at the Lyndon club last night who could have sharpened up their act a bit, but they did belt out the regular hits like 'Everybody Needs Somebody to Love' and 'Gimme Some Lovin'. The moves were pretty flash, but they didn't give the late John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd any real justice.
I also went to the City game today where the Bluebirds emerged 3-1 winners over fellow play-off rivals Burnley. They played much better after the break, which is really fortunate because they were crashing the gears in the first half - but now it looks like I get to see my last City game at Ninian Park and thankfully it was a win to remember! I'm looking forward to the new stadium now but I really hope that it can grab some of that hostility that the Ninian created - like today's 19-odd thousand demonstrated to our Northern opponents. Although it's an neccesity to have a new all seater stadium for a Premiership-chasing club, I fear we could lose the cauldron effect that made our home 'Fortress Ninian'. I guess it's up to the fans to turn up en masse and keep singing.
On the subject of singing and songs in general, I turn to my love for Spotify, which is the fab new online stream music player that has made me feel like the proverbial 'kid in a candy store'. Spotify is great because it allows you lots of freedom in listening to online-streamed music by searching a sizable database for your fave songs which rarely disappoints. Of course you don't own the music - but it's free and you can save the songs on playlists.
As you can guess.. I never got around to finishing it... story of my life.
Back from the dead
If I like blogging so much, I guess I would do it more often. These words resonate through my mind most days when I feel like blogging, but I can't be bothered to start writing. So for once I'm using a free window of time to actually get something down and hopefully by reading this it means I actually finished a post! In my absence, they also said that blogging is dead. So let's call this a resurrection.
I do warn you though since my last proper post, I have evolved into something a bit more embittered and well... let's say cranky. Lately I have found even more reason to moan about modern life and everything in it, so I apologise now if this post suddenly mutates into a Max Goldman memoir.
My latest escapade comes from a jolly jaunt in my local neighbourhood, Grangetown CF. When waiting for my car to be fixed, I decided to have a look around the place of my birth, childhood and current residence. I was quite surprised with what I saw, as for the first time I started to see the area as a community of thriving local shops and interesting people instead of the place whee I rest my head at night. After walking up and down Penarth Road (which was coincidentally covered in a radio programme today) I decided to use the facilities at the newly-built library.
As I looked up to the bright, artificial lights of this medicinal-smelling 'sanctuary', I tried to remember with difficulty what libraries used to be like. Children squabbling over five minutes grace on a PC, only to play on some desktop game which requires hefty amounts of excessive clicking; a book checking in-and-out machine which the majority of its users can barely operate ('is this working'?, 'Do I need my card?', 'It's just flashing at me'); whilst works by Kant and Rousseau are deemed 'religious' in a broad array of subjects. But what really wrestles with my memories - for the reason I was wrestling with my book - is the fact that libraries are just not quiet anymore.
If I was 10 years old again, this observation would weigh like a feather on my mind. But now this revelation is earth shattering to me, like rocking an age-old institution. No-one would dream of talking at anything above a whisper. To do so would incur the wrath of the frighteningly efficient and stern-looking librarian, whose silence dictated the law of the library. And for those who were so foolish to speak over a certain decibel level, the librarian would simply become a man of action - brandishing his own justice to preserve the peace of his palace. Now whilst I get to grips with George Monbiot's latest book, I get the full details of librarian's ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, whilst her colleague boasts with enthusiasm (and volume) about the time off he's about to get. Where did it all go wrong? Why have libraries descended into this?
Appeal. Coffee shops, fancy computers, creches - the essential things that 21st century people 'want' or 'need'. The desperate attempts to give the library a more universal appeal. But it fails to consider the very things that libraries should stand for - being able to enjoy a good book in peace and tranquility. In the 21st century hustle and bustle, many facets of society have been busied, modernised, technologicalised and made to keep up the pace with our 24/7 lifestyle.
But the humble library, the embodiment of a social sanctuary outside the realms of pub and home, should remain the place that stays at the slow of a crawl. And quiet too.
I do warn you though since my last proper post, I have evolved into something a bit more embittered and well... let's say cranky. Lately I have found even more reason to moan about modern life and everything in it, so I apologise now if this post suddenly mutates into a Max Goldman memoir.
My latest escapade comes from a jolly jaunt in my local neighbourhood, Grangetown CF. When waiting for my car to be fixed, I decided to have a look around the place of my birth, childhood and current residence. I was quite surprised with what I saw, as for the first time I started to see the area as a community of thriving local shops and interesting people instead of the place whee I rest my head at night. After walking up and down Penarth Road (which was coincidentally covered in a radio programme today) I decided to use the facilities at the newly-built library.
As I looked up to the bright, artificial lights of this medicinal-smelling 'sanctuary', I tried to remember with difficulty what libraries used to be like. Children squabbling over five minutes grace on a PC, only to play on some desktop game which requires hefty amounts of excessive clicking; a book checking in-and-out machine which the majority of its users can barely operate ('is this working'?, 'Do I need my card?', 'It's just flashing at me'); whilst works by Kant and Rousseau are deemed 'religious' in a broad array of subjects. But what really wrestles with my memories - for the reason I was wrestling with my book - is the fact that libraries are just not quiet anymore.
If I was 10 years old again, this observation would weigh like a feather on my mind. But now this revelation is earth shattering to me, like rocking an age-old institution. No-one would dream of talking at anything above a whisper. To do so would incur the wrath of the frighteningly efficient and stern-looking librarian, whose silence dictated the law of the library. And for those who were so foolish to speak over a certain decibel level, the librarian would simply become a man of action - brandishing his own justice to preserve the peace of his palace. Now whilst I get to grips with George Monbiot's latest book, I get the full details of librarian's ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, whilst her colleague boasts with enthusiasm (and volume) about the time off he's about to get. Where did it all go wrong? Why have libraries descended into this?
Appeal. Coffee shops, fancy computers, creches - the essential things that 21st century people 'want' or 'need'. The desperate attempts to give the library a more universal appeal. But it fails to consider the very things that libraries should stand for - being able to enjoy a good book in peace and tranquility. In the 21st century hustle and bustle, many facets of society have been busied, modernised, technologicalised and made to keep up the pace with our 24/7 lifestyle.
But the humble library, the embodiment of a social sanctuary outside the realms of pub and home, should remain the place that stays at the slow of a crawl. And quiet too.
Mr Dresden
Laden with pomp,
Mr Dresden is on a mission in Aisle Five.
He asks not of trifled affairs,
mindless piffle
or prattling gossip.
The weekly shop isn't the time for such cares,
as loaves aren't as cheap when he was a lad.
Mr Dresden speaks not of the weather,
he 'glides' past the macs and hats like he 'always' had
soon in awe of the rain as an art form.
Trilby-topped lies? Perhaps
Mr Dresden is no Mr Jones
But his mishaps in petty consumerism
thrusting broadsheets in tabloid faces
and calling red apples scarlet cherubs
Wins no friends in high or low places.
Mr Dresden, in his tattered Saville Row
Let down his basket like banking accounts
Worldly capital feeds itself another day
now he eats corn flakes in plastic dishes
Declares the world is most beautiful
and wishes it wasn't any other way.
Mr Dresden is on a mission in Aisle Five.
He asks not of trifled affairs,
mindless piffle
or prattling gossip.
The weekly shop isn't the time for such cares,
as loaves aren't as cheap when he was a lad.
Mr Dresden speaks not of the weather,
he 'glides' past the macs and hats like he 'always' had
soon in awe of the rain as an art form.
Trilby-topped lies? Perhaps
Mr Dresden is no Mr Jones
But his mishaps in petty consumerism
thrusting broadsheets in tabloid faces
and calling red apples scarlet cherubs
Wins no friends in high or low places.
Mr Dresden, in his tattered Saville Row
Let down his basket like banking accounts
Worldly capital feeds itself another day
now he eats corn flakes in plastic dishes
Declares the world is most beautiful
and wishes it wasn't any other way.
Standing in Leckwith
It could be anywhere in the world. But for many Cardiffians, this giant metal structure is most definitely the building site which sits at Leckwith. The new stadium, which will host Cardiff City FC football matches and Cardiff Blues rugby games from next season, is the coming along quite nicely - even if the surrounding road network is being completely recovered in layer upon layer of asphalt, causing commuters to dive through traffic cones every morning and night.
By looking at it properly today and actually being within 100m of what could be the ground's away fan section, it is finally becoming a reality after all the political infighting, financial wrangling and pie-in-the-skyism we City fans had to endure. As you can probably tell I was standing in what will be the retail park; the necessity which provided the start up capital for the stadium. To my surprise, I was curious to see that one store is already up and running - Costco.
Ah Costco. As I entered the sliding doors for the first time and witnessed the gargantuan open space of hoverboats, jacuzzis and other seemingly exclusive stuff, I was told that after an initial tour around 90% of people sign up as Costco members immediately. Oooh I thought - I guess I could have even signed up on behalf of my organisation (my 5-a-side football team of course). But after the golden tour of personal wandering, maybe the credit crunch was seriously affecting the wholesale price of Edam cheese or Wychwood beer, because I certainly didn't feel compelled to sign. This was one time where my curiosity could have been fine tuned to find something a bit more interesting.
It soon occurred to me that there was something else which bothered me about the place. Mainly the fact that it looked like thousands of square feet upon square feet of captured Manifest Destiny, complete with Chicago's Finest Beef Hot Dogs and specialist department signs which cry out to be spelt 'Center'. I wouldn't be surprised if a guy in an Uncle Sam suit wanted 'me' to try out some new Aunt Dixie's apple pie, to which the feeling of Americana would then be complete. As I walked passed the 'Photo Centre', I was reminded of the Walmart I went to in Mexico last year. Despite the jaw-dropping price deals and excellent variety of choice, Walmart has a certain quality which makes it seem extremely cold and alien - that it is distinctively American, no matter where it appears on Planet Earth. But then again I could be wrong - after all, it is a wholesale store designed purely for businesses not families on their weekly shop.
As a City fan I am overjoyed that the stadium shell stands proudly over the Leckwith wasteland. Yet I ask myself as retail park after retail park is being erected, can it be done any other way?
The Dystopian
We should want More.
One, Two, Three...
Home is a cardboard box
Littered with holes, both pried and tired
Cowering behind transparent locks
Our pathetic banal bovines graze
Pitter-patter tapping rhythm
Perpetual petty things amaze
Four, Five, Six...
Party to humble vermin and bashful worms
Sitting in happy filth and colourful dust
The helping hands on cunning clocks
Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten.
Do you need colours with 101 shades of grey?
Our bulimic lies washed in chloroform
Saturated satanic libido in every way
A gram of butter keeps me slim
Their eyes only glisten on fool’s gold
Gluttons perish on wasted curds away
End transmission.
I scream inside to avoid the finger I eat books of dead authors and try to absolve madness with contraband I dream, I feel, I reach, I touch, I die a death each time I run home and I bathe in sewage to feel so wrong I make love to the world through my hands and catch the 9:07 to make myself smile.
Absolution is a clergyman's folly and I look for Him within
when the clock says 26:01
seas part
miracles made
as I gaze
into the light green sky
I cleanse my sin.
Going down
On the same day in which Fulham completed their great escape from the perils of Premiership demotion, the hope remained that a small amateur 5-a-side team from Cardiff could do the same. Football and fate however, are not necessarily willing bedfellows.
Tonight my beleaguered TTFE team suffered a second consecutive relegation after a 2-2 draw was not enough to keep away the jaws of doom. My knee bleeds from a broken scab, my throat sore from incessant shouting and my heart firmly on my sleeve. I still ask myself - why do I care so much?!
I wish I knew. I guess when it comes down to it, I love to be the underdog and win against the odds. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, the reward is ever so sweet. And with such hope, it can be a great thing to be an optimist. But now that hope is dashed I feel really deflated. Crushed. Tired. Rueful.
We didn't help ourselves all season with some shoddy performances and we didn't help ourselves tonight in a game which did not have any spark or vigour seen in the title winning campaign only last Autumn. I'm not going to go into the reason why we have dropped from Division Three to Five quicker than you can say 'offside', but as a trusty blog, I reserve the right to have a good moan about it. So here you are.
Tonight my beleaguered TTFE team suffered a second consecutive relegation after a 2-2 draw was not enough to keep away the jaws of doom. My knee bleeds from a broken scab, my throat sore from incessant shouting and my heart firmly on my sleeve. I still ask myself - why do I care so much?!
I wish I knew. I guess when it comes down to it, I love to be the underdog and win against the odds. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, the reward is ever so sweet. And with such hope, it can be a great thing to be an optimist. But now that hope is dashed I feel really deflated. Crushed. Tired. Rueful.
We didn't help ourselves all season with some shoddy performances and we didn't help ourselves tonight in a game which did not have any spark or vigour seen in the title winning campaign only last Autumn. I'm not going to go into the reason why we have dropped from Division Three to Five quicker than you can say 'offside', but as a trusty blog, I reserve the right to have a good moan about it. So here you are.
Just for your information
With only a few weeks to go for the local elections, you know at some time my enthusiasm for democracy will soon be displayed in some shape or form. Good friends of mine often despair at my customary rallying cry on forums, blogs, social networking sites for everyone to use their vote. I've recently been trying to find new political websites which can compile information from everywhere in the political arena. Sloth is terrible habit to develop, but is aided greatly by the web.
It was then I stumbled upon politicshome, a great beta site powered with ingenious Web 2.0 technology which pulls everything political in one place. Complete with up-to-date opinion polls, politico blog updates and carefully selected articles and videos from the daily press, this site is pure Eden for any political researcher (no pun intended). You might say it is a 'bit busy' from looking at it, especially as it can run rather slowly on low spec PCs (like mine). This said however, it is a marvel to think that all the information of the day in the sphere of politics pretty much sits on that page. It is like the Big Daddy of all pizzas - with all your favourite toppings put on one crispy base to enjoy in one sitting. Yummy.
But as I drool at the prospect of this mighty meat feast of current events and happenings, something doesn't feel right. I feel overindulged - rather unworthy of such news decadence. And then it hits me - as it hits me every time I search Wikipedia - do I have too much knowledge at my fingertips? At an age where the Internet can reveal any lost detail or forgotten fact, such as the name of that drummer in some obscure 80's band, or who was the last player to miss a penalty in a FA Cup Final, we can revel in such technology to put our minds at rest and solve any disputes which are raised over a pint or two at the booozer. After all we are only human.
What worries me though is if that in the pursuit for knowledge, does curiosity really kill the cat? Do we have too much information on our beckoned call? And is the quality of the information on sites like Wikipedia something we should be basing our core understanding of certain subjects?
In the typical dystopian society born out of sci-fi novels the lack of information is usually the tried and tested method of enslaving and stupifying the masses, but can too much free-flowing information only enslave and harm the very people that contribute towards it?
My paranoia over the way we pass on these tit-bits of information I guess is born from a video game. Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty has a fantastically deep, philosophically littered storyline I still thoroughly enjoy playing - but I'm sure it is a game I will never fully understand (thank God I seem to be in the majority here!).
To sum up what is a very complex storyline, a particular scene states how the Patriots (believed to be a mysterious group which are the true rulers of the world behind the puppet masters in public office) sort and filter through the human garbage of information that we produce to ensure that society remains intact. In this short exchange of words, 'The Colonel' and Rose, representations of this seemingly 'inhuman' group, are telling the protagonist Jack/Raiden how the human race is not fit to govern itself:
OK OK, if I'm talking about a dystopian novel dialogue, that would probably fit the bill quite nicely; it would probably look right at home in 1984 or Brave New World. And yes, this is taken straight out of a plot line which is as incredibly Japanese as a microphone in a Downtown Tokyo bar. But those words still resonate a harsh reality of whether there is too much of an opportunity for freedom of speech on the Internet.
Take for example, the ever-growing popular and controversial viral docu-film, Zeitgeist; a damning conspiracy theory of how the world's banking corporations are working towards a Novus Ordo Mundi or One World Government by linking religion, 9/11 and the US Federal Reserve. Pretty glass-shattering stuff, which you really have to watch with an open mind. Some interesting points, but for me the jury is still out.
Anyway - a subject which fits nicely with the Metal Gear storyline above - this film has gathered quite a following online, despite hitting home the message that 9/11 was an inside job and that religion is purely a construction by 'biblical' politicians to ensure hegemonic status in society. Ideas which are met with much resistance in any social sphere. And although these ideas would face very little credibility or support in the halls of US democracy, they have a powerful base online to inform and influence.
I don't mean to discredit Zeitgeist in anyway, especially as it claims to have been produced with extensive, accurate research. With more people fuelling their theories and posting them online, we could celebrate such a diversity of free thought. But offshoots from possibly credible theories drift nearer to fantasy. The fact that some of these theories can be devised on the basis of little truth or the assumed truth from the Wikipedia does lead to a harrowing conclusion - the fact that if an unfounded idea is popular enough, it has the potential to rock society to the core. Its like spreading rumours on a larger scale - and we all know that's how fires start.
But if a "single man does have the potential to ruin the world" and that "digital communication has given more power to the individual", maybe as a species we think about smartening up a bit. And to do that, maybe when it comes to big league stuff we should give 'Wikiing' a miss from time to time.
It was then I stumbled upon politicshome, a great beta site powered with ingenious Web 2.0 technology which pulls everything political in one place. Complete with up-to-date opinion polls, politico blog updates and carefully selected articles and videos from the daily press, this site is pure Eden for any political researcher (no pun intended). You might say it is a 'bit busy' from looking at it, especially as it can run rather slowly on low spec PCs (like mine). This said however, it is a marvel to think that all the information of the day in the sphere of politics pretty much sits on that page. It is like the Big Daddy of all pizzas - with all your favourite toppings put on one crispy base to enjoy in one sitting. Yummy.
But as I drool at the prospect of this mighty meat feast of current events and happenings, something doesn't feel right. I feel overindulged - rather unworthy of such news decadence. And then it hits me - as it hits me every time I search Wikipedia - do I have too much knowledge at my fingertips? At an age where the Internet can reveal any lost detail or forgotten fact, such as the name of that drummer in some obscure 80's band, or who was the last player to miss a penalty in a FA Cup Final, we can revel in such technology to put our minds at rest and solve any disputes which are raised over a pint or two at the booozer. After all we are only human.
What worries me though is if that in the pursuit for knowledge, does curiosity really kill the cat? Do we have too much information on our beckoned call? And is the quality of the information on sites like Wikipedia something we should be basing our core understanding of certain subjects?
In the typical dystopian society born out of sci-fi novels the lack of information is usually the tried and tested method of enslaving and stupifying the masses, but can too much free-flowing information only enslave and harm the very people that contribute towards it?
My paranoia over the way we pass on these tit-bits of information I guess is born from a video game. Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty has a fantastically deep, philosophically littered storyline I still thoroughly enjoy playing - but I'm sure it is a game I will never fully understand (thank God I seem to be in the majority here!).
To sum up what is a very complex storyline, a particular scene states how the Patriots (believed to be a mysterious group which are the true rulers of the world behind the puppet masters in public office) sort and filter through the human garbage of information that we produce to ensure that society remains intact. In this short exchange of words, 'The Colonel' and Rose, representations of this seemingly 'inhuman' group, are telling the protagonist Jack/Raiden how the human race is not fit to govern itself:
| Colonel: | Ironic that although "self" is something that you yourself fashioned, |
| every time something goes wrong, you turn around and place the blame on something else. | |
| Rose: | It's not my fault. It's not your fault. |
| Colonel: | In denial, you simply resort to looking for another, |
| more convenient "truth" in order to make yourself feel better. | |
| Rose: | ...leaving behind in an instant the so-called "truth" you once embraced. |
| Colonel: | Should someone like that be able to decide what is "truth"? |
| Rose: | Should someone like you even have the right to decide? |
| Colonel: | You've done nothing but abuse your freedom. |
| Rose: | You don't deserve to be free! |
| Colonel: | We're not the ones smothering the world. You are. |
| Rose: | The individual is supposed to be weak. But far from powerless -- |
| -- a single person has the potential to ruin the world. | |
| Colonel: | And the age of digitized communication has given even more power to the individual. |
| Too much power for an immature species. |
OK OK, if I'm talking about a dystopian novel dialogue, that would probably fit the bill quite nicely; it would probably look right at home in 1984 or Brave New World. And yes, this is taken straight out of a plot line which is as incredibly Japanese as a microphone in a Downtown Tokyo bar. But those words still resonate a harsh reality of whether there is too much of an opportunity for freedom of speech on the Internet.
Take for example, the ever-growing popular and controversial viral docu-film, Zeitgeist; a damning conspiracy theory of how the world's banking corporations are working towards a Novus Ordo Mundi or One World Government by linking religion, 9/11 and the US Federal Reserve. Pretty glass-shattering stuff, which you really have to watch with an open mind. Some interesting points, but for me the jury is still out.
Anyway - a subject which fits nicely with the Metal Gear storyline above - this film has gathered quite a following online, despite hitting home the message that 9/11 was an inside job and that religion is purely a construction by 'biblical' politicians to ensure hegemonic status in society. Ideas which are met with much resistance in any social sphere. And although these ideas would face very little credibility or support in the halls of US democracy, they have a powerful base online to inform and influence.
I don't mean to discredit Zeitgeist in anyway, especially as it claims to have been produced with extensive, accurate research. With more people fuelling their theories and posting them online, we could celebrate such a diversity of free thought. But offshoots from possibly credible theories drift nearer to fantasy. The fact that some of these theories can be devised on the basis of little truth or the assumed truth from the Wikipedia does lead to a harrowing conclusion - the fact that if an unfounded idea is popular enough, it has the potential to rock society to the core. Its like spreading rumours on a larger scale - and we all know that's how fires start.
But if a "single man does have the potential to ruin the world" and that "digital communication has given more power to the individual", maybe as a species we think about smartening up a bit. And to do that, maybe when it comes to big league stuff we should give 'Wikiing' a miss from time to time.
Sing for Cardiff - or Wales?
Yes another football post from me and also another about my beloved Cardiff City, who have recently reached the FA Cup Final for the first time in 81 years. What can I say- these are exciting times for Bluebird fans!
So Barnsley have become the latest to bite the sword of Dave Jones’s men after a nervy semi final at the Twin Towers of Wembley. We were all shaking like a leaf when Odejayi had that clear-cut chance at goal, but just as if the Lord had offered his own divine intervention, the Tykes hitman put the ball wide. It’s another trip to Wembley, another scramble for those ‘golden tickets’ and another chance for the young Welsh stars of Ledley and Ramsey to showcase their talents to audiences across the globe.
However, as my last post highlighted, this amazing cup run has also brought up new complications of nationalities and technicalities, which threaten to undermine the FA Cup’s rules and tradition. Europe is one thorny issue for the FA bigwigs to untangle, but now it is the turn of our own politicians to stir up another qualm at Lancaster Gate.
The latest episode in the FA Cup saga has been instigated by the Sports Minister for the Welsh Assembly Government, Rhodri Glyn Thomas, by calling for the Welsh national anthem to be played on FA Cup Final day with God Save the Queen.
The minister has stated: "I hope the FA is going to be sensible about things because there will be great disappointment in Wales if we're not allowed to sing the national anthem”. With little surprise, his view has been echoed by proud Welshmen and Welshwomen who would love to hear Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau to spur on Cardiff City into beating Premiership high-flyers Portsmouth.
The fact that City have made the final has truly added to what has been a great year already for Welsh sport; from the Grand Slam rugby heroes to the Swans earning their promotion to the Championship. There’s no denying its great to be Welsh right now.
Welsh or not, commentators from both sides of the border have played down the idea of the national anthem being played at Wembley on May 17. Gwyn Davies from the Valley Rams Supporters Club is among those against the idea, as well as the Western Mail’s Head of Sport, Paul Abbandonato. The latter of the two fears that two anthems will encourage booing from rival fans, which is not appropriate for such a prestigious day in the fixture list. Talk Sport presenter Mike Parry, who was clearly incensed by the idea, has rather foolishly and tactlessly stated that Thomas’s role in Wales could be adequately covered by sports counterpart Richard Caborn at Westminster; a comment which could be taken very much as a slur on Wales and it’s very political process. A comment that I certainly do not agree with.
However when it comes down to it, I have to agree that Mae Hen should play no part in the FA Cup Final. I fear that the more we dress up City’s run as uniquely a Welsh phenomenon, the more we jeopardise any chance of them becoming a top-rate club in the Premier League. I agree that City should go to Europe, but Cardiff have to face the facts and become ‘English’ to do that. I’m not saying we should ‘drop trou’ to the FA as it were, but just remember to abide by their rules in their league as the ‘invited guests’ we are. If that means that we should be respecting time-old FA Cup traditions by allowing certain anthems to be played, we have to accept that.
I believe that we stand on the abyss at the moment for Cardiff’s future in the Football League, as Cardiff need to play ball with the FA to ensure that they can observe all the privileges they can possibly deserve. As all this furore goes on over the FA Cup, in the background the FAW are looking at ways it can reform the Welsh Premier. It is likely now that the Welsh Premier will be split into two leagues of ten teams, to increase competitiveness and maintain the integrity of the league. This is a reaction to the previously unpopular idea of having Cardiff, Swansea and Wrexham field reserve squads in the Welsh Premier to give them a chance of earning European qualification via the Welsh football pyramid. To sum up, the subject of the ‘Welsh Exile Limbo’ hasn’t gone unnoticed by the FAW.
The FA will also be monitoring this closely, as they will have to reconsider the status of the Welsh Exiles for the long term. But as we in Wales continue to play both ends against the middle by wanting English league status with Welsh perks to boot, we should tread with caution. It would be devastating if one day Cardiff did break into the Top Four only to be denied entry to the Champions League because we pissed off the FA about aspects like these just to assert our nationality when it isn’t needed.
To emphasise the argument from Davies and Abbandonato, this isn’t England V Wales – no matter how much that duality seems glaringly obvious. Cardiff V Portsmouth is not a clash of nations, but simply two teams who play within the English football league. Although the Welsh factor is certainly some zest to the final, this should be a day about Cardiff City – who reached the final at the expense of other Welsh clubs, such as Swansea, Wrexham, or even Merthyr Tydfil or Newport County.
It begs the question whether the fans of those Welsh sides will actually root for the Bluebirds or will remain faithful to the regional rivalries which are well-known in Welsh football. The majority of non-Cardiff fans I’m sure will be supporting the South Coast club when the day comes.
If I were lucky enough to get to Wembley, I would belt out Gwlad, Gwlad until my lungs gave out if it meant the lads would be fired up by it. But in all honesty, I’m sure Men of Harlech, the anthem of Ninian Park, would have a much better effect on the likes of McPhail and Co.. A Welsh song through and through, I have no doubt the 25,000 Bluebirds will be raising the roof with the words to that immortal City hymn (or by replacing them with da-da-da-da-da-City, as it usually goes). This day is for Cardiff – and the rest of Wales if they are willing to wear blue for 90 minutes.
Cardiff on the continent?
March 9th 2008 - Middlesbrough FC, UEFA Cup finalists of 2006, are given a masterclass by Cardiff City on their own patch and lose the opportunity to progress to the semi finals of the FA Cup. In this most strange of years in modern FA history, 3 out of 4 teams at the semi final stage - West Bromich Albion, Barnsley and Cardiff City - will come from the second tier of the English game. That guarantees at least one Championship side in the FA Cup Final this May.
1927 is a pretty important year for Cardiff fans. In what has been a brilliant FA Cup run in 2008, 1927 has once again become cliche - the year in which City became the first (and only) Welsh club to ever take the trophy out of England. Now with the 'Big Four' out of the way, City fans believe that they can win the world's oldest football competition and reap the rewards which come with it.
For you see, the Holy Grail of the FA Cup isn't just the right to play the Premier League champions in the Community Shield season opener, nor just the chance to carve themselves into FA Cup history. It is also the gateway into the new dimension of European competition in next season's UEFA Cup. That prospect must be exciting for Portsmouth, Barnsley and West Brom. However for Cardiff the latter prize would only be a pipe dream. Even if they stand victorious at Wembley with the Cup in their grasp, Cardiff would not be playing the likes of Fiorentina or Bayern Munich in the UEFA Cup.
In what remains to a bizarre arrangement of national boundary, competitive fairness and strictly bound red-tape, the Welsh teams which ply their trade in the English game linger in limbo when it comes to European competition. The teams who are affected - Cardiff, Swansea and Wrexham in the professional tiers and Newport County, Merthyr Tydfil and Colwyn Bay in the English non-league pyramid - are simply 'associated members' of the league and their participation is based upon the foundation of certain 'rules'. One of these rules is that they would not be able to represent the FA (or England) in European competition, as they are Welsh clubs who are under the jurisdiction of the FAW (the Welsh FA). Bit of a bummer really.
Now that Michel Platini, the UEFA kingpin, has decided to look at giving Cardiff special dispensation into Europe if they were to win the FA Cup, the FA have sprung into action by also guaranteeing a review into the matter. AS Monaco have rubbed shoulders with Man Utd in the Champions League in the past, yet they come from a principality even smaller than our own. Yet they play in Ligue 1 and have the chance to play in Europe as French representatives. So why can't Cardiff do the same?
If only it was that simple. Monaco doesn't have a national league - but ever since 1995, Wales has. Back in the day the likes of Cardiff and Swansea freely competed in Europe through winning the Welsh Cup. But when the Welsh Premier League was set up FIFA and the FA stated that only teams in that league could contend for places in Europe to represent Wales. Seeing that the six English league Welsh teams wanted to stay in the English league (whilst the likes of Barry Town and Bangor City went into the Welsh Premier) they were unable to play in the Welsh Cup as well, as they played in the English league and their own cups.
Thus, since 1995, the teams participating in Europe to represent Wales were purely from the Welsh football league system - not including the exiles of above six teams. And let's be fair - Welsh they maybe through and through, and although there is growing improvement from the Welsh Premier crop, they stand little chance of progressing very far in Europe.
It all seemed a bit silly, especially when back over the last 30-40 years the legality of European qualification was a headache for the teams who played in the Marches. Whilst the FA states that the 'Welsh exiles' can't play in Europe by winning their cups, we invited the likes of Shrewsbury and Hereford to compete in the Welsh Cup but because they were English; we refused them a route into Europe as a Welsh representative. This tat-for-tat has denied true winners of what is rightfully theirs for decades.
So what is a modern answer? Is there a way of giving true winners the rewards they deserve and transcend the boundary of Offa's Dyke?
Big Sam Hammam once said that he would make sure Cardiff City would play Barcelona one day in the Champions League in a golden era of the football club. I wonder how he was going to arrange that, considering that it was never possible under the rules! But that does bring up an important consideration if Cardiff and Swansea - who both look to be on the rise - do make it to the Premier League.
I might be optimistic, but I know one day a Welsh club like Cardiff or Swansea could be contending for a European place in the Premiership season after season. This legality would therefore keep cropping up and up and there is no doubt that with so much money to be had in the game today, the Welsh clubs will undoubtedly fight tooth and nail to get the European place they deserve. A solution should be found - even if it means they become 'English'.
It is clear that if City want to have the money and have the chance to play in Europe, they have to become an English club in the eyes of the FA and the world. This would mean being based in England. Chester City actually play their home games in Wales, whilst their offices are in England - but of course the Anglo-Welsh border does run through the city boundary.
As much as I would like the FAW to become stronger and have a league system just like our Celtic cousins up north, it is clear that the Exiles are a lost cause. The sooner we tidy up the techicalities of national origin, the sooner the Welsh exiles can get settled into the league they truly want to be a part of.
Tired (Confessions of the Hired)
March already? Thats what you get when you blink for too long. Spring is upon us with such speed that One Man has hardly seen any winter posting at all. Shame on me - giving too much attention to other blogs and the TTFE history.
If truth be told however, I can't blame my lack of personal blogging totally on other written work. For now I am a working man, I have to admit defeat and say to all those bloggers who became extinct when they got new jobs that I too am dying a slow online death. I blogged so much over the last year (basically moaning that I couldn't get a job) and now that I have got a wage I've neglected the blogging page.
Shame really - I liked blogging too.
If truth be told however, I can't blame my lack of personal blogging totally on other written work. For now I am a working man, I have to admit defeat and say to all those bloggers who became extinct when they got new jobs that I too am dying a slow online death. I blogged so much over the last year (basically moaning that I couldn't get a job) and now that I have got a wage I've neglected the blogging page.
Shame really - I liked blogging too.
