2009 — 24 November: Tuesday
Suddenly, an attack of the after-midnights. I've been working steadily through an over-large stack of "Heavy Metal" magazine back numbers (in aid of one of my longer-term projects). It was an American variant of the French magazine "Metal Hurlant" (aka 'screaming metal'). There's some great stuff salted away (but, as with the original "Monty Python" TV shows, there's an occasional five minutes of sheer genius, interspersed with 25 minutes of unutterably unfunny tedium). Can't win them all. Issue #1...
... came out back in April 1977. Of course, about the only place you could be reasonably sure of finding a copy was in "Dark They Were and Golden-Eyed" down (up?) in London's Soho. Question is: are they going to survive the cull? Crikey. Yawn. It's 00:43 and my eyelids are about to slam shut. I'm off to bed. Rain, rain, go away...
G'night.
This won't do...
... I forgot to roll out the "black" bin until a few moments ago, despite my supposedly failsafe cue: the word "Black" in the kitchen diary. Of course, it helps if you look at the diary. Still, "Just In Time" is a good system. But where's my daily fix of "Arts&Letters"? I was forced to resort to Google News, which is almost guaranteed to be depressing, particularly if you glance at the output (vomit would be more accurate) of the UK's tabloid press. Grumpy? Moi? I don't think so!
Breakfast beckons. Talk about life of sloth — it's already 09:35. But it's not (currently) raining. I'm predicting at least a tad of fresh air somehow today.
Speaking of depressing, I still recall the impact of Nevil Shute's "On the Beach". I would have been nearly ten as it was a cheap "Book Club" edition, so I expect it was a year or so behind the original (1959) publication date. I didn't get taken to see the Stanley Kramer film; I caught that on TV sometime in the mid-1960s. And I finally treated myself to my own copy of the book in January 2003. (I thought it held up well, by the way.) I shall therefore listen to this.
You want irony?
Having (through laziness) left the radio on after the "On the Beach" feature — with its examination of the reaction to the total annihilation of every human on the planet — I heard Joe Public waffling on in one of those dreadful phone-in programmes (which, I assume, the BBC feeds us because they are cheap and cheerful rather than because we want them). One soundbiter (for want of a better word) suggested that, if there were only 50,000,000 people in the UK instead of 60,000,000 then there would be plenty of jobs for young people. (It seemed to me to be implied by the caller that immigration accounted for the 10,000,000 job stealers.) So, a simple solution: drop a few atomic bombs and wait for the trade winds.
A letter to the Guardian over 25 years ago from JG Riddall gave us plenty of warning!
How very... IgNobel
Having (more or less) overcome my addiction to NPR (I'm listening right now!) and, thus, the "Science Friday" programme, I assume I missed the 2009 IgNobel prize awards. Wikipedia to the rescue. Mind you, I'd set off in search of the so-called "Law of unintended consequences".
Back from the great...
... tea expotition (thanks for the cake, Peter) in time to catch some, at least, of the (relatively undistinguished sounding) Bill Frisell/Mike Gibbs: Collage for a Day (world premiere,1 no less) with one of the nicest bits of Stravinsky to follow after a quick burst of Villa-Lobos. Much better than inane phone-ins. It's looking quite horribly dark and potentially wet out there, with some quite nasty gusts, too. Must be gearing up for winter. Yuk.
I'm beginning to suspect that Mr Postie has passed me by for the day. It's now 16:15 — where was I?
You hafta smile:
Christakis and Fowler keep tongues firmly planted in cheek as they describe other studies; for instance, researchers studying grooming patterns across networks in different species learned that "the model that best predicted the network structure of U.S. senators was that of social licking2 among cows."
Downstairs...
... the Panasonic PVR is happily feasting on the five episodes I've so far captured of Season #3 of The Thick of It. I must say, the hi-def recordings lose pleasingly little detail as they are transferred via RGB from the satellite PVR. The basic PAL TV standard is really pretty good when you set it up carefully. The evening meal is a thing of the (re)past, and the evening is now open for business. Despite the ghastly feather warcast, we're determined to try a road walk tomorrow. We both need the fresh air and the exercise, dammit.
The revelations about the massive Bank of England "secret loans" to the two Scottish banks are beyond satire, somehow. "Shtoom" indeed. Better to listen to the Bohemian Rhapsody story (also beyond satire, of course.)