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Musical Chairs

I have a theory, which I have dubbed the bad acoustic roots surmise. This theory is that Jack Johnson, Xavier Rudd and Donovan Frankenreiter are in fact all the same person. In fact, it is quite possible that this fraudulent character also masquerades under the mask of John Butler, Ben Harper and Cody Chesnutt. I’m not entirely sure if this characters motivation is to gain world domination through acoustic roots music, or just promote surfing. Neiter am I sure how he pulled off that stunt at the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival – being on three stages simultaneously and all. But I’m sure he’s up to no good. Plus he’s using up the airwaves, which could be better served playing more Gomez.

Daytime Clinic

Lately I have been watching an unusual amount of television. Mainly due to the increased boredom the holidays cause I guess.

A couple of nights ago I watched Species for the first time. And here’s a tip for anyone who hasn’t seen it. Only watch the last fifteen minutes – it’s all you need watch to grasp the movie completely.

Spoiler warning: If you havn’t seen Species and you really do wanna see it (and you’ve been hanging out since 1995), stop reading now.

So the last fifteen minutes. There’s an alien-type girl. You can tell she’s not human because she looks a bit funny and doesn’t act normal, you know, the usual movie alien/human thing. And she runs around trying to ‘mate’ with men, surprisinly enough she doesn’t have much trouble. Then she kills the guy afterwards. Then there’s the hero/tough guy. You can tell he’s the hero because he has facial expressions like a garden gnome and says everything in monotone. The hero and his cohorts chase the alien lady down underground where she is quite obviously going to give birth / lay eggs / whatever (Godzilla anyone?) with real big flame throwers. One by one the good guys get eaten, except for the hero and his girl of course. The there’s lots of fire and explosions and the alien turns real nasty looking and gets shot. Then in an unbelievably unexpected twist at the end a rat eats some one of the aliens tentacles and turns into an alien itself, thus setting us up for a sequel. Which I am not going to watch.

Then last night I watched the Grammys/Logies/Somethings – the Australian television awards anyway. It was a complete load of crap, but the point is CNNNN won something! I’m not sure what exactly, but got up there on stage and acted like complete idiots. Which was good.

Oh, and Larry Emdur says hi.

Quietly Announce

Via Tamesapien.

Marry Me Beck

So I sent my home phone (landline, whatever) a Talking Text message (SMS), just to see what how it’d go. Aparrently even the very latest Text-To-Speech technology can’t translate ‘i am teh l33t h4×0rz’ into speech. It came out as ‘i am tell l-thirty-three-t h-four-x-zero-r-z’. An amusing experiment nonetheless

And the best thing about all this is Telstra’s ‘technical diagram’ explaining how this technology works.*

Goodbye Explosives

Hey look,

It’s Suicide Bomber Barbie!

Magic Level Six

My Nana is such a stereotypical nana.

What’s that?
Erm…
Does it make music?
Yeah.
Is the music inside it?
Yeah, in there.
What are they like records or something?
Yep. They’re CDs.
Oh, and you can take them out and put other ones in there?
Yes.
And you can carry that around with you?
Yes.
Oh well that’s handy isn’t it. You know, grandad used to have a wireless and…

Gummy Bears

”…imagine what would happen to Pulp Fiction if, when the character of Jules looked into the briefcase, he “woke up” in mid-scene and not only realized that he was a character in a movie, but also realized that he “was” also Mace Windu and Shaft and a bunch of other characters in realities he can scarcely comprehend, while also glimpsing an uber-reality where all of those realities are just movies and he’s an actor called Samuel L. Jackson.”

From Barbelith, via PlasticBag.

This Picture

It’s cool when a fourteen year old girl can walk in a music store while all her friends are listening to n*sync (at least it was n*sync when i was in year eight) and, after perusing the stock, return to the counter dissapointed and make them order in a special edition Placebo cd. My little sister rocks.

Beware this troubled world

Control your intake…