From the Juiced-box, for a reflective mood:
Hi gang! Your semi-irregular tipple-toaster here, settling in at the end of this poorly lit Bar (seriously Al, ever heard of fluorescent lighting?) to castigate and castrate all the news, views and opinion of the last few weeks of… well, news. You’ll have to forgive my drunken rambling, thanks to Al allowing me such a large tab here at the Bar, but there’s a few things that’ve caught my eye over the last little while I just need to vent on. And when I say “vent”, I mean pull out the long forgotten soapbox here behind the Bar and stand on that fucker. Given the Bar None’s recent Dry Zone policy means I not longer filter the horrors of being human through a haze of Johnny Walker or Galiano, it’s brought things into sharp focus… hence the title of this post.
Is it just me, or has the world gone a little more shitty than normal in the last month or so? America’s teetering on the brink of financial collapse, while a couple of dozen half-wits in Washington play a massive game of chicken with each other, and the rest of the world watches on wondering if the wall-to-wall coverage of impending catastrophe (really, America goes into financial meltdown…. would anybody else care?) is just a beat-up or actually factual. All of this makes the rest of the world wonder if America truly is the greatest nation on Earth. I tell you what, if they do go down, they’re putting up a fight. Debt ceiling? Really?
Singer-songwriter-drugfucked alcoholic Amy Winehouse plays her last gig in a haze of booze, and then bows out in glorious, tabloid-fodder style, for which now we can look forward to decades of “unearthed new material” much like frickin’ Tu Pac or whatever that dudes name was who got shot, died, and then released a dozen albums of new material like he was saving shit up for a rainy day. Christ, they’re gonna hammer this crap until they’ve remixed, remastered and re-released the shit out of her back catalogue, unearthed some unfinished songs and added guest stars like Bono, Bob Geldof and fucking Bill Idol to make some weird “duets” style thing like they did with Sinatra. And we don’t even get any new trashy photos to counteract this oncoming Winehouse storm. Don’t get me wrong: she was an awesome singer, but every dick with a blog and an opinion seems to think she’s a tragic loss to the world. As a songstress, perhaps. As a person? Well, there’s a hundred LiLo wannabes waiting in the wings.
Then there’s the cop in the UK who, after being hit by a fucking car, gets up and chases down the bitchslapper who sideswiped him. Don’t believe me? Watch this. Now that, my friends, is the very definition of TOUGH. Unless he’s a Transformer. In which case, Optimus Prime would upfuck his shitup.
Also over in the UK, is a man who can hear his eyeballs moving. No joke (apparently), this dude suffers from some sort of weird scientific problem which means the noises inside his body are louder than those outside – he can literally hear his internal workings going on. You know that old phrase about “not being able to hear yourself think”? Well, this man’s got that problem licked. Makes you wonder if he confuses his farts with thunder.
Far and away the most disturbing news of the week, though, at least not related to the US financial crisis, is this report about underage kids drinking to excess in the US. What’s most troubling to me is that the people drinking to excess aren’t even old enough for their balls to drop or their boobs to fill out – kids as young as 12 are getting blind drunk every weekend or so, and not only that, but also sitting back with a bit of pot to go with it. What. The. Fuck. This article/report almost speaks for itself in the question which would immediately form on most peoples lips: who’s buying these kids their booze? What’s scary is that I’ve no doubt whatsoever that this kind of thing is happening all around the world as well; Australia’s no exception to the youthfully drunk, and it’s a major, major social problem.
The space shuttle returned to Earth after its last trip to the most expensive hang-out in the world (or, above it…) and the world paused for about, oh, three minutes to reflect on all the Shuttle Program brought us. Can anybody name the astronauts on that last shuttle? Without Googling it? Nope, neither can I. The fact that everyone’s lost interest in the Shuttle missions was probably the biggest factor in deciding to give it up. I mean, unless you’re going to the moon, or sending people to Mars, the whole thing just wasn’t exciting any more. So they packed up, sent the smart dudes home to their parents, and gave the private sector a mission to “capture the flag” – Richard Branson must be near-orgasmic with glee that now he’s got an excuse to burn up billions of dollars in research and development to send some poor sap up there.
Almost overshadowing the news of Amy Winehouse’s death the other weekend was the news that some utter fuck-knuckle in Norway decided he’d had enough of behaving himself and went and a) blew up some shit, and b) shot a bunch of innocent kids at a political camp. What the news services couldn’t get over, though, was how White Anglo Saxon this dude looked – I mean, he wasn’t Muslim, wasn’t any kind of ethnic minority they could easily pigeonhole, and when pressed for his reasons, expressed himself in an articulate and deliberate manner. Sure, he’s a deranged psycho, but he didn’t go out with a bullet to the skull or blowing himself to whatever God he believes in (or doesn’t) with a few pounds of TNT. Goddamit, this guy seemed, on the outside, to be one of us. Which is scary. He had the self-belief to stay alive and hand himself into the police when they arrived on that island. No last-stand suicide, no blaze of glory run-at-the-cops-and-get-mown-down-in-slo-mo stuff. Personally, I don’t even think that fucker deserves to breath the same oxygen as we do – take him out the back, shoot him in the head and bury his corpse in some landfill somewhere, and forget about him. No trial, no fucking circus, just death and that’s it. I’m not a believer in the death penalty, but in this case, no amount of incarceration is ever going to do this stain justice.
The UK reeled after Sauron himself, along with his son Little Johnny Packer, wheeled himself into British Parliament to answer questions about the massive phone hacking scandal, and ended up being smacked with a foam pie by some “comedian” fellow. Rupert Murdoch might be a control freak undead walking corpse, but he didn’t need that. T’was funny as hell, though. In other news, I’m glad the wankers behind that phone hacking crap are getting taken to task about it all. Seriously, who thinks tapping into peoples phones is a good idea? There’s no justification at all for that, and those slimy dickheads thought deleting a few messages on some poor dead girls phone would be a good laff as well. Man, I’d skip the lawsuits and go hire an assassin, if I was one of the victims.
All this makes me ask the Big Question of the Week. What kind of world are we living in? Is it just me, or is shit getting worse? Perhaps those nutjobs gabbing on about the Mayan calendar ending in 2012 are on to something? Boy, I can’t wait until humanity enters some kind of Star Trek styled utopia and all crime is eliminated, or Roland Emmerich gets to actually destroy the world for real. I’m sure he’d love it.
Now, send down another bottle of Scotch, Al. I’m done for today!
Hot Rod is a guest writer here at The Bar None, but you can catch his more serious side over at his movie blog, Fernby Films.