Genevieve wrote:
cold fish
...mmm, yes, to be recommended... although cold seafood in general is something of a favourite. Raw can be good... had some very, very nice raw octopus the other week. Ate them whole. Mmmm....ink. Do oysters count as fish? Shellfish? Dunno, but of course you not only eat them cold, you not only eat them raw, you more or less eat them alive. Yum. <Editor's Note: Graphic description of oyster-murder excised here courtesy of Sir Cliff Richard Editorial and Self-Restraint Services Limited> And then, apparently, they go and make you all frisky, although I was eating them with my brother and felt no such frissons. Honestly. See, Genny? A cold fish is in fact a well-hard spiky pop phenomenon for nasty kids with refined tastes. Better think of a new insult. Sarah admitted:
So anyway last night when I slapped my friend Ross >for liking a few songs off the first Gomez album
You slapped your friend for liking Gomez? When everyone knows that the summary sentence handed down by the High Court of P!O!P! for Gomez-appreciation is having all the skin on your feet peeled off and then being made to stand in a washing-up bowl full of vinegar while being laughed at by schoolchildren and having broken Pearl Jam CDs shoved up your nose? You're on a charge, missy.
IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK TO ALLOW ME TO HAVE HATRED!
No.
ITS POP MUSIC AND ITS PLASTIC!
Charge revoked. What better place to have hatred? In fact, I can't imagine how it is possible to love pop without hating because pop, for me, is so bound up with self identification and picking more or less arbitrary sides...
who could be more innocuous, sweet and harmony-inducing??
YEAH cos this is what we want in Pop music isn't it, >more la la la sweet harmony yeah innocent yah-de-yah.
Innocuousness is the *worst possible* pop-crime. Worse even than kitsch, which is the least pop impulse in the world. Apart from innocuousness, of course. And guitar solos. Oooh. I've just made myself feel sick. I'd be very happy to see a full-blown debate about feminism on the list, primarily for the reason that it would have to beat the hell out of talking about frigging cartoons. Actually, I think we should have a discussion about cartons. Has anyone noticed how the standard issue tetrapaks which replaced old fashioned milk bottles in the UK during the course of the 80s are now only ever available in corner shops, and even then rarely, and have been superceded by a dizzying array of arrangements for getting milk from your carton...press-in spouts, plastic screw-tops ... the works, pal. However, many cartons of orange juice still have that dreadful arrangement where you have to cut / tear / bite / saw the corner of the carton off to get at the juice within. Some thoughtful packagers added a diagonal serrated line but it never bloody works and you always end up with a nightmarish tri-spout arrangment where any attempt to direct the orange juice into a glass results in at least two puddles of juice lying on the worksurface / carpet / bedclothes / wherever. We could *choose* to change that of course, to use the power of the orange juice buyer to make a real difference to carton spouts. It just so happens that we don't. We have the choice to buy *just exactly whoever's orange juice we want to*. In whatever carton. We just happen to *like* particular cartons and not like other cartons. That's how we make our choice, nothing more than that. That's what liberty means. That's why we *fought* the cold war in the first place. Ain't freedom great? I went for some Spanish food on Saturday, and was offered 'a free shot of Passion Juice' by the waiting staff. Mister Miller, or Arantxa, or whoever, please advise whether this is normal behaviour in Spanish restaurants. Naturally I declined the offer. What exactly did I turn down? Tag wrote:
They'd just shown another round of clips of Anna 'blondy' Kournikova ... And there he was, > face painted with a Union Jack, holding aloft his > Big Breakfast ... our very own number one seed - > Thim H!O!P!kins.
Sorry old son, but like many a Port Vale supporter, you were clearly mistaken. I think it is because your eyes were still rolled up in the back of your head and your neck was still in spasm. Easy mistake to make. I was the one dressed all in black waving the sign which said "Abandon All Tennis and PishPotPoshSport NOW!" And I had my face painted with a reproduction of the cover of 'Big Gold Dream' by the Fire Engines. And although I did have a big breakfast, it would have been downright disgusting to hold it up at that stage... it was already well on the way to being fully digested. That's probably enough for now. Oh, except to add that Mark, uninspired middle of the road rock music doesn't stop being uninspired middle of the road rock music just because it's on some pisspoor indie label and it's feted by a handful cretins from the inkies with less than the one brain between them. As a very wise man once said: 'Midway Still? My hairy arse.' Cheerio chums, tim _________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "jelly-filled danishes" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+