PLEASE!  GO!  AND!  TALK!  ABOUT!  GENOCIDE!  AND!  OTHER!  STUFF!
ELSEWHERE!  BETWEEN!  YOURSELVES!  MAYBE?!  NOT!  ON!  
SINISTER!

Phew.  I get this awful sinking feeling whenever people start referring to
each others' posts and addressing things to specific other people in
rather less than tender terms.  

Anyhoo, apart from that, welcome back to the hardy perennial that is the
classy cartoons debate.  Battle For The Planet (or G-Force, as I knew it)
was, in fact, shit-hot, although quite silly on occasion.  It was the only thing
apart from Star Wars we had on video (ah, early VHS: toploader, brushed 
steel, weighed as much as a Nissan Micra) when I lived in Nigeria as a
wean.  That and any number of insufferable Porky Pig offerings.  However,
we must not discount the current offerings: Dexter's Lab is indeed mighty
fine, and the Powerpuff Girls is, as I noted on a recent Sky-trip, scarily
addictive, with its flashing lights and dayglo irony.  Yum.  

So I went to see Broadcast in a black smelly pit of Doom on Wednesday.
Very pleasant indeed, and they even R!O!C!K!E!D! a bit.  My goodness.
I didn't know how many people in Oxford were up for a bit of the Mighty
'Cast, but I was rather surprised at the number that squeezed themselves
sweatily into The Point.  Maybe I shouldn't have worn an ankle-length
fleece skirt, as it was rather warmer than was comfy.  Bleurrgh.  Mr
Carsmile had to retreat to the doorway in horror at the humidity levels, 
the great wuss ;)

Watched Batman and Robin on telly last nite.  I think I'm too old for the
modern action thriller.  What a load of arse, tit and poo.

So, in conclusion, go and see Broadcast if they come your way, as they
make fab tinkly noises, don't ever watch films with George Clooney in
them (stick to reruns of ER), and discuss scary subjects on your own
time (please?).  I think about all this stuff too much to have it impinge on
the cool fluffiness of Sinister.  Not being didactic, just asking.

I'm going to be old(er) tomorrow!  22 looms like a big old palindrome.
Argh.
 
  Liz :x               "Love without hope, as when the young birdcatcher
                        Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's own daughter;
                        So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly
                        Singing about her head, as she rode by."  Robert Graves
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