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this week a good friend of mine woke me up with a phone call at some ungodly hour to sing me several ukulele songs he'd written. i'm not making this up. i wish i were. either he's worryingly lonely or i have a stranger taste in friends than i thought together we once wrote a country and western song entitled 'catalogue porn'. again, not making this up.
are we all ready for christmas? no, me neither. i mean, i've bought all the presents i can be arsed to buy but in every other way i remain 'emotionally unprepared'. enforced goodwill can fuck off, doesn't the very concept devalue so-called spontaneous goodwill in all forms? is it me? christmas music in shops makes me homicidal. 'christmas cheer' makes the vomit rise in my throat. i have to say that i agree with the aborted samaritans christmas ad campaign:
bah humbug an' all that.
a short email from the venerable gude which i pass on to you: "today's word is 'deracinate' -to tear up by the roots... use it wisely."
i ask you, what kinda of country are we living in when an item on the itv lunchtime news is "and popstar britney spears, we ask, has britney lost her 'pop'?" nation of morons.
after perhaps one of the strangest live music performances i have ever witnessed (from smell& quim and onomatopoeia) one of the artistes, one mr. steve cheeses from cheeses international records, somewhat inebriated, handed me a golliwog. now i don't know what your opinion is on the golliwog (offensive racist stereotype or harmless fuzzy-haired doll?), or indeed if you have an opinion at all but the two links below might help you feel more informed on the whole argument. never having seen a black person who looked even remotely like a golliwog, i might, repeat might, be moved to suggest that perhaps the bizarre image of the golliwog might have more to say about the white woman who invented them than it does about any black individual either living or dead. myself, i'm more concerned about the fact that, for some reason unclear to me, the funny little fella has magnets in his torso, hands and feet
i finally got round to buying myself a gonzo. that's right muppet-fans, a gonzo. always my favorite, perhaps because of his chicken obsession, i'd been searching for a quality gonzo product for years. most of those i came across were too bright blue and had noses that didn't have quite the angular hook of the real muppet himself. he stands about 22" high and although he isn't quite right or accurate, he's the best i've seen and for a fiver, who's complaining? makes me want to go and listen to my muppet albums
recommended: (audio) 'love laughter and truth' -cd- by bill hicks / (comestible) chicken mesquite sandwich with cheese and bacon (hmmm, more kidney stones anyone?) / (visual) fire / (sensorial) popping bubblewrap
reviled: (audio) christmas carols / (comestible) sweet and sour / (visual) oxford street full of shoppers (and all of them in my way) / (sensorial) freezing rain
my american flat-mate john has started to compile a list of things he hates, so far it goes like this: all whispering (which started off as just 'whispering at the end of adverts' and then spread), pan pipe music (as in "the soothing sound of ") and 'magical music' (typified by bad cartoons particularly rife at christmas). he has a huge laminated poster on his door of charles manson which reads 'love american style'.
if you've never listened to bill hicks, i urge you, nay i beseech you, go out now, right this very minute and buy some. the much abused term 'comic genius' was invented for people like him. proof if you needed it that the wrong people die.
i was handed a card today while on upper street:
* if your
partner or loved one left you and you want
him back immediately?
guaranteed within a week
that last option is a real doozy. ah, money from the imbecilic ignorance of others which is the real crime here, the exploitative charlatanism or the imbecilic ignorance? merry christmas mr. ebrihima, wherever you are