Sinister: read 'em and sleep (long and NBSC)

[Tim Hopkins]

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








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