posted
...so, okay, right. In a fit of crazy sensible madness, all the world's governments decide to ban TV. And films. And video games. And even owning a television set. Computers at home might be banned as well. Not sure. TV as a concept is illegal, either way.
Except maybe the Marshall Islands, where there's one legal TV set, in a bar somewhere, showing darts and Flashdance on a running loop. Or something.
So. You can't slump down on your sofa after work and switch the telly on. Because you don't have a telly.
What would you do instead? Would it affect your life? How much? Do you think it could, potentially, have a positive effect? Would you just say, oh, ok, well, that's a pisser, but hey ho, fair enough.
Or would you go underground? Would you join a band of furtive resistance fighters, gathering in cellars to watch Countdown and maybe a nature documentary, bravely keeping the spirit of TV alive for the good of humanity.
Me? I think I'd probably, er, read more books, go for more walks, write more stuff (with actual pen and paper), do more cooking, talk to people more... all the usual, boring answers that you'll all give, probably, if you even bother answering, which you probably won't because it's such a rubbish notion.
God what a shit idea. Sorry.
eta: I haven't actually watched TV proper for ages, so I wouldn't be that bothered, really.
Also: making confectionery in the shape of stringed instruments. Discuss.
quote:Originally posted by mart: So. You can't slump down on your sofa after work and switch the telly on. Because you don't have a telly.
What would you do instead? Would it affect your life? How much? Do you think it could, potentially, have a positive effect?
I haven't slumped down on my sofa after worked and switched on the telly for over five years. Mostly because, while I do have a telly to watch the occassional dvd, my current telly setup doesn't receive any programming...not even free stations due to my loaction and the simple fact that I don't have an antenae.
The overall effect on my life has been quite positive. I find that I have more time to play with the kids, to read, to take long hikes through the woods. I'm fitter than I've been at any point in my life too.
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posted
This has actually just happened to me!. The living room is havign the floor sanded blah blah blah home improvement shit, so there's no TV or music. Spent yesterday evening in the loft putting together the Scalextric set I got when I was four. Only one of the cars still works, which is a bit of a shame. Also, I 'jammed' with Octavia using guitar (me) and - erm - recorder (her). I taught her 'Know Your Enemy', although it didn't sound quite right, on the recorder. RATM definitely knew what they were doing when they recorded it using drums, guitar and bass. Much better, yes.
-------------------- Now that you've called me by name? Posts: 2007
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quote:Originally posted by Jimmy Big Nuts: I'd go to the pub.
That prompts another question I was just thinking of:
If alcohol was free, provided as a public service, maybe, would you drink more? Would you go mental getting pissed all the time? Or would you up consumption for a bit, wahey this is fun, and then settle down to moderate sensible drinking because, you know, too much is bad for you, all things in moderation, etc. And it wouldn't be such a big deal anyway because it was free, just like, er, I don't know, things that are free.
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posted
are we talking about a tap in the bathroom that runs with warm diluted ethanol, or the council dropping off a hay-lined hamper of fine wines, rare malts, and import lager when they do the bins?
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posted
Neither, really. My thought was more that you could go to the pub and just order drinks, for free. I'm not sure about booze in shops, because my idea was, sort of, to encourage people to socialise, and the best way to socialise, to interact with people, is to drink with them, in my flippant opinion.
Did anyone listen to Front Row on Radi o4 last night, with Leanord Cohen? That's not how you spell Leanord, is it. It looks wrong. Anyway, he was talking about his Japanese monk guru mate, who he does lots of quality spiritual drinking with, who recently celebrated his 100th birthday. Apparently him and Cohen were in a bar, having a good drink, when his monk buddy turned to him, raised his glass and said "my friend, I forgot to die". Made me smile.
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posted
As an alternative to screen-related entertainment, this week I will be making a birthday cake in the shape of an electric guitar. Or going on a killing spree. Who knows?
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quote:Originally posted by Abby: As an alternative to screen-related entertainment, this week I will be making a birthday cake in the shape of an electric guitar.
Make sure you model it on the Les Paul. Stratocaster cakes never look right.
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
posted
no, no, no. you should make a flying V or a rock-god double-necked one or something. or a ZZ-top one that bounces up and down on elastic or spins round on a waist mount.
-------------------- i'm expressing my inner anguish through the majesty of song Posts: 4243
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quote: You should make a banjo cake. Then all you need is one sponge and a few Mars bars
If only this were possible, but electric gutar it must be.
Maybe I will document the process for you all.
The first stage is to go and aquire ingredients on the way home. In addition to the obvious things such as flour, eggs etc I am hoping to get red, black and white roll-out icing, some kind of icing-piping pen for the strings (do these exist?) and some sweets for..err nobs and stuff.
I have already soaked the big cake dish in oven cleaner to get the remains of last month's sunday roast off, and made a newspaper stencil. Unless rectangular guitars exist? That would be better?
quote:Originally posted by Abby: Unless rectangular guitars exist? That would be better?
Bo Diddley. The cakemaker's favourite guitarist.
...and colour pic to show icing shade required...
Edit to add: Carrying the cake in to the sound of Bo Diddley's trademark riff would really make the day special for any guitarist. They may get an irresistable urge to play it though, which could get messy, so have some kitchen roll to hand.
quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: I suppose a Super-Yob is out of the question?
That's some seriously advanced cake making there. He obviously got a professional patissier to make that one. Seems to have offset the cost a bit by hiring a blind hairdresser, but still...
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
posted
Aw, gwan, do a ZZ-Top geeetar. They're cute and fluffy.
-------------------- i'm expressing my inner anguish through the majesty of song Posts: 4243
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quote:Originally posted by dang65: Seems to have offset the cost a bit by hiring a blind hairdresser, but still...
Yeah, I've always wondered about that. Not the glitter, not the silver nun suit, not the 36-inch stack-heels... I'm fine with those. But... that fringe. Or absence of a fringe... Odd.
quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: Yeah, I've always wondered about that. Not the glitter, not the silver nun suit, not the 36-inch stack-heels... I'm fine with those. But... that fringe. Or absence of a fringe... Odd.
It is troubling. He obviously does his best to distract the eye in any way possible, but no, it's the non-fringe that non-stays in the non-memory. It's a clever trick, getting people to remember something that was never there. Dave Hill - Mind Voodooist.
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posted
that photo has reminded me, dave hill is god- like. im not joking, i reckon if you were to bury photos of dave hill in a capsule and they were to be found by People From The Future, who knew nothing of slade or their oeuvre, i think they would totally be mistaken for some kind of Graven Image.
-------------------- evil is boring: cheerful power Posts: 1655
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posted
I think if they destroyed TV I could co-exist with my father in law without feeling like I'm living inside a really shit sit com, probably written by the writer of...I don't know, ([BEN] My Hero or something, yeah?[/BEN]).
I've tried to put the brakes on it but I can't help riding the Pull Your Finger Out, You Married My Daughter Express straight into Robert Lindsayville.
Today I had a missed call from a number I didn't recognise. I phoned it back and got a garbled Hawking in a dustbin response from an indecipherable voice.
ME: Who's that?
Bleeghn: It's Bleeghn.
ME: Who?
Bleeghn: Bleeghn.
ME: Who?
Bleeghn: Bleeghn.
ME: You phoned my mobile.
Bleeghn: Bleeghn phesne nbeoihsfzkjjbdsf sheevey
ME: Can't fucking hear you mate.
Bleeghn: Fheer shafeer fer
ME: Fuck off.
Obviously it was my father in law. In his car, on speaker. He phoned me back from a land line to tell me. Because that's always how it is.
At Christmas I asked him where the nearest car wash was, so I could clean the car. So it was clean on Christmas Day. So I wouldn't leave a dirty car on his driveway. You know, because that would be wrong. That's the stupidest fucking thing ever but I felt guilty, leaving the car on his driveway, dirty, on Christmas Day. Like it proved I couldn't take care of his daughter. So I asked him where the nearest car wash was. He offered to show me and decided he'd wash his car too. Because obviously no one wants a dirty car on their drive on Christmas Day. So off we went, in convoy. Not like with CBs and Smokeys in pursuit or anything, just two cars, on their way to the carwash, on Christmas Eve. Like fucking idiots. So we got there and guess what, in Middle England Land everyone goes to the car wash on Christmas Eve. Because none of them want a dirty car in their drives on Chistmas Day. So it's a big queue. It feels like back in the day, raving, waiting for that phone call to say "It's on; Eye Airfield!" or "Car Wash, fuck the law." I'm in front of my Father in Law, head of the queue of twithcy hot wax ravers strung out for soap. I drive into the carwash and the queue tightens up. I drive in, wind up the window and...nothing happens. The car wash doesn't start. What the fuck is going on? So, I reverse. My reversing lights come on. Christ, the idiot's going to reverse out. Father in Law puts his car in reverse too. The car behind does too and the whole queue of ten cars has to do the same. All reversing because the idiot in the car wash is going to reverse out. On Christmas fucking Eve! Idiot. So I reverse, I start to back up but realise the whole queue is going mental. I stop. I get out of the car and go back to the machine. I'm standing in the carwash now. On Christmas fucking Eve. Everyone watching me and gnashing their middle England teeth. I'm pressing the button. I'm STANDING in the carwash and pressing the button. Mercifully, it doesn't start working. I'm not quite living in a shitcom enough to be whisked away on giant brushes and given the full shampoo and wax. I better get back in the car, I think, before I become part of a Hanna Barbera sequence and come out like a waxed **** with bubble ears, a sponge face and shocked, squeaky eyes. But I've lost all sense of spatial awareness, as only a shitcom character can. I open the BACK door of the car and try to get in. I realise my mistake and pretend I'm getting something from the backseat. Some kind of magic carwash starting item that works on Christmas fucking Eve. I get in the front. My father in law has watched this routine: fuck Downey junior, he's thinking, this guy has nailed the Tramp, absolutely nailed him. I get in and pull forward and the thing finally starts. Just as horns start beeping behind me. The suds start coming down the windscreen like a premature orgasm. I'm safe in my foamy cocoon.
It was like the other time, or the other time or the other time...the one where Father in Law decided we should hit the bell with the sledge hammer at the fair and I missed three times, to the whoops of delight from the crowd. Straight after he'd rung it with a single swing.
These things keep happening. I've been in more car washes than you've had hot dinners, fuckstards. I could ring that bastard bell in a heart beat. It's only when Father in Law is there... only then am I a fuckwit to end all fuck wits. This only happens to me when I'm on TV. In sitcom land. On Christmas fucking Eve.
posted
I reckon that's just what the boards need. I always thought a good meltdown would make good entertainment. I just figured it would be some kind of unhinged stranger we could all poke with sticks until they went fucking nutzo. I didn't think it would be me, trying to come to terms with being a father at 23:30 on the 10th of July 2007. But, hey, life's full of surprises.
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