Tabitha's musings

Long time no blog 好久不写博克

2010-09-14T20:06:00.001-07:00

It's been a while, and I'm going to keep this brief. This blog was always just a little sound board and I love the response to the GaGa post! I don't care if you love it or hate it - you read it and it produced a reaction. Shit, does that make me like GaGa? How ironic. Anyway, I now have another blog, focusing on Chinese pop culture, and I spend the rest of my time writing freelance articles about nice things like temples and spa owners. I will occasionally saunter back here to sound off about various things and write blog posts full of four letter words when I have the time.

If you are interested in things like football in China (come on, think about it - a football mad country with 1.3bn people struggles to produce a decent football team, what's going on?), the Chinese obsession with cute poop cartoons, what Lady GaGa means in Chinese and Chinese Lady GaGa imitators (Oh the horror! Can you imagine, pop stars copying other pop stars and pretending they are original?) then you can have take a gander at: www.chinarama.wordpress.com

I use wordpress because it is better X 1000.

Lady GaGa - The rise of an Idiot.

2010-03-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

Shockingly clever to morons and praised as 'exciting!' by boring people, the rebel pop princess Lady GaGa (who is obviously a giant tool) is currently being hailed as a relevant à la mode cultural commentator and artistic genius this side of cutting edge.

I was hoping to go long enough without having to formulate an opinion on the pseudo avant-garde artiste. And then this happened:

The Lady GaGa ft. Beyonce video

Lady Gaga has, once again, nabbed what is already out there in the media sphere, copy and pasted the best bits, covered it in thongs, shit and glitter and curated it as her self-created personal artistic vision. Tarentino loves it. Michael Gondry doesn't.

Telephone is another video that's a blur of pop and dance, supposedly groping and grinding its way in the direction of, ahem, 'female empowerment.' Oh yeah, and this time it's also “a commentary on being overfed communication and advertisements and food in the US” and about "the kind of country that we are." Hmm...vague. Lyrically, it's challenged.

Telephone is not just about someone trying to get hold of you in a club, it's about the GaGa feeling suffocated by the nagging voice she hears telling her she needs to get back to work...Deep. Anyway, we'll stop there because trying to further analyse GaGa's lyrics is like necromancy or dancing about accountancy – it's pointless.

Luckily, GaGa has a following of fans almost as dedicated as the Despair Faction or the CCP's very own 五毛党, otherwise known as the 50 cent party (not related to the rapper). At the time of writing the video had been viewed one billion times. Any criticism of the video that appeared on the cesspit of 'yoof' culture that is the Youtube comment board was met by GaGa fans with the ferocity of a Minotaur; explanations of the video were also offered to those of us who are too stupid to 'get' the meglomanic GaGa.

Th<3nx> jakuna3333, so you mean like GaGa and Beyonce are forced to put Flouride and shit in our food as part of a Communist Disney plot to take over the world?

So what do we have here then?

Well, she's led into jail, which is a continuation of a previous video and that's clever. Apparently. Then she makes a dig at the accusations (of her being a man) that not only plagued herself, but also Gwen Stefani and Dana International. This apparently shows some balls (if you excuse the pun). It is also revealed that she, in fact, has no sex organs at all.

GaGa then struts about the yard wearing some glasses made of, and containing, cigarettes. Why? Because, it's tedious and pretentious and will have people guessing for years to come. Probably something to do with hiding behind objects and the girl being attracted not to GaGa, but the smell of the cigarettes, which symbolize materialism...Wow. She's like deconstructing pop culture. I think my brain just fell out through my ears.

Next up, it's the start of the hideous product placement, but it's alright folks, because GaGa says it's iron-ik. She's meant to be making a mockery of product placement.

OK so Virgin were her tour sponsors and GaGa is the creative director for Polaroid; she is helping with Polaroid's product design and also features Polaroid in the video too...I mean that's like OK because...actually I can't even come up with a faux reason involving irony that an idiot GaGa fan would let dribble out his/her mouth here. Ironic or not, it's still product placement. In fact, it's jaw-droppingly similar to Bill Hick's predicted ultimate television commercial.

Videos like this need a huge budget and can only be made using product placement, so undoubtedly the product placement was necessary. Other pop stars wishing to compete will undoubtedly have to do the same thing, and music videos will just become another major ground for advertising. Thanks GaGa for exacerbating exactly what you were meant to be attempting to sabotage or critique.

Ah ha, then she morphs into a negative of Amy Winehouse and starts dancing in bra and thong, because it's an ironic take on the sexualisation of women, yeah? Cos like in music videos they are always half naked, yeah? Sure, I mean, it doesn't matter that GaGa is always strutting about in a leotard or thong of some description and has been quoted as saying she doesn't consider herself a feminist because she 'hails' men (thereby failing to give credit to the movement that tries to change the double standard she challenges and perpetuating the stupidly incorrect male hating stereotype).

“I like guys that listen to AC/DC and drink beers and buy me drinks just to show me off at the bar by the jukebox with their friends”

Was she ironically being ironic about being ironic? Is everything Lady GaGa does ironic? Would she be an ironic vegetarian? Would she eat meat, ironically, whilst tittering and winking at vegetarian passers-by?

Anyway, then this happens:

I can like totally identify, Gah Gah, your body is a crime scene after being raped by the music/advertising industry/fame/men/money. Oh man, you're like even referencing the final scene from Michael Moore's, 'Capitalism: A Love Story,' without even realising it. So what do you propose we do about these issues?

Beyonce arrives in Quentin Tarantino's Pussy. Wagon and they share a metaphorical boner-lesbo moment. Beyonce sings, without the aid of (as much) product placement and so called ironic digs. Because a) she was too uncomfortable, b) she is too stupid and not ironic enough or c) she is so intelligent she was ironically not being ironic? You choose. I vote all three.

Anyway, it continues with lots of pop culture references, product placement and many people dying. Then, the realisation comes to you slowly but surely...oh it's like 'social commentary' on...America...Capitalism...celebrities used in advertising...ooh!Consumerism...food obsession...and stuff...Brilliant(ly vague!)! Thanks GaGa you ambassador of no logos/labels/brands you!! OMG, you are like an in-telek-chall genie!! GaGa you should like totally get Naomi Klein to feature in your next video!!

Ooh I get it. Adverts/junk food/TV and is poison for our brains. You are a true pop philosopher.

Anyway, it doesn't end there. GaGa and Beyonce start dancing in stars and stripes outfits.

With a nauseating excitement you realise they are surrounded by corpses! What does this mean? Is she referencing Thriller? Then BAM! The TRUTH hits you like an atom bomb in the face. They are America! America dances on while people are dead/dying. Whether it's due to Aids, starvation, advertising or war, isn't important. The idea is enough to evoke anarchy. The viewer walks away (because the end of the video is just more pop culture references) shattered, but empowered having been shown the truth.

Nice one GaGa. You have managed to change my entire world view in 9 1/2 minutes. Before I was politically apathetic and now I'm like not, yeah? So I'm off to wave both middle fingers at McDonalds, The Government and your Polaroid adverts, then smoke some glasses.

"(ad)verts b-b-b-buzzing thru ma brain/It's driving me ins-s-s-sane/What's d-d-d-driving us isn't passion, music and art/We need to get off this train."

Or something.

GaGa promotes Polaroid.

*******
Let's be honest, eh? GaGa has not suddenly started highlighting global issues or sending out actual messages regarding the negative aspects of free trade or materialism. The video's so-called 'social commentary,' doesn't actually critique anything at all. It also seems to be aimed at a rather odd demographic: people elitist enough to snigger corporate brainwashing or depressing dominant values in society, yet feeble-minded enough to succumb to the common place fame hungry Lady GaGa. It's littered with enough pop cultural references for anyone who is interested in anything to pull out and 'identify with', with some controversy thrown if for good measure. She is, at best, another Emimen.

And even then, lyric and wittiness-wise, one could argue that she doesn't even come close. GaGa hasn't yet managed to weave any of her so-called messages, the famed sardonic wit or her cited influences (the German poet, Rilke, or David Bowie) into her music - thus making her seem like a vacuous name dropping prick. GaGa's music lies in the performance and costumes, rather than the actual music itself - which is surely what music should actually be about. Despite what she says about her music having, 'real, genuine, like, soul of innovation, ' it just simply doesn't. It's basic pop, derivative and shows no lyrical talent.

“I like you a lot, lot, think you're really hot, hot” (Boys Boys Boys, line 3)

Her songs lack genuine emotion; so what you get when she performs live in an effort to put 'emo-shon' into her songs is a lot of grunting and shouted lines while wearing a see-through throng combined with 34 backing dancers dressed as foetuses, and a lion suspended from the ceiling spraying blood (the latter prop is to ensure controversy). It's about as formulaic as you can get. GaGa herself is a brand surrounded by her Haus of GaGa cronies who style and advise her. GaGa - who thinks she is the epitome of avant-garde - is actually worried she isn't; the result of this: a demented, whoring attempt to fill in the blanks using other media and then cover it up with so-called "A-R-T".

The pop culture references that are deemed 'cool' are just an example of Sociologist theories stating that we no longer experience the world directly; it merely is presented to us as a representation. With Telephone what we have here is the best of the 80s condensed into a bite sized chunk and thrown back in our faces because it's 'cool'. GaGa hasn't created anything new, just regurgitated what has been done before and stamped GaGa TM on it.

There are plenty of truly artistic female artists out there (Bat for Lashes, Roisin Murphy, Bjork, St. Vincent,Regina Spektor, Karen O, Kang Mao to name but a few...) who sing fantastically, write their own - intelligent - lyrics, and play - rather than bang - their own instruments. They command a great stage presence without resorting to the obscene, stripping down to their undies in an attempt to be ironic, or moonlighting within extra-stupendous videos.

Unfortunately many of GaGa's fans don't "get" the idea of musicians anymore; instead they'd rather troll around on BBS boards to debate the meaning of a soul-less video, embrace her outfits more than her music and, regardless of sexual preference, jerk off to the feminist-misogynist that is Gaga's vague incoherent bottomless crack of a persona. Lady Gaga has given birth to an orgy of idiots who don't value true musicians or artists and has made an artistic license out of leading them to believe they are witnessing something that's distorting the boundaries of music and art.

They are witnessing nothing but this:
The rise of an Idiot

Nathan Barley idiot <-------------------> Lady GaGa

Obscene enough for ya?! (Fame Sleaze copyright - Tabitha's musings 2010)

Christmas Chills

2009-12-01T02:16:00.000-08:00

Oh, so soon it will be Christmas. Many many moons ago, on Christmas day I was born into this world and into the hands of my woeful owner. I always cursed the manufacturers for producing me so close to Christmas. My first sight was that of that metallic garland known as tinsel. Tinsel is only for dinner ladies who wear it in their hair during the season.

Christmas in the UK = 7 ¾ weeks of moaning about Christmas coming earlier and earlier each year by manic shoppers who still fall prey to the same friggin’ trap each year X Christmas adverts featuring celebrities who gyrate up and down the aisles of chain stores and self depredating adverts for women (*does your face look like scorched macaroni? Are you old leaky, pathetic and repulsive, along with being female? Well here come the girls! Yeah!*)÷ pointlessly high expectations of the actual day + the depressing empty feeling you get by 5pm Christmas day + old people dying from the cold and lack of heating.

That’s why Christmas in China can be a nice break. Christmas is Dead in China. I mean, how else are you meant to feel when you walk into a shopping mall and see Father Christmas bizarrely nailed to a cross. A misunderstood idea that Baby Jesus grew up to be Santa (as designed by Coca Cola) maybe? Or maybe it was a reference to China going back its roots and sacrificing consumerism? Actually, it’s just China doing what it does best: Combining things it doesn’t understand with things that don’t match. Yes, that’s right, like floral cushions on red leather sofas.

The Chinese equivalent to Christmas is *nod nod* correct! Chinese New Year. It’s a festival that is truly about family, chatting, traditional food with symbolic meaning and general celebration. It is terribly noisy and people still fight for food and barricade themselves in like back home, but it’s stuck to its guns over the centuries and not wandered down a plastic tacky root, akin to Christmas.

And what's with all this?When did Father Christmas become associated with sex exactly?

Look at what happened to baby Jesus

Sexy Santa

Who came up with sexy Santa Christmas underwear? I’m still waiting for my sexy Chinese dragon leotard and face mask to prance about in, come February 14th 2010. So what has Christmas become eh? Well, an amalgamation of all that’s glittery, red, consumerist and Father Christmas. It’s simply become a party in Jordan’s brain (sponsored by Heat magazine), projected into reality for all of us to suffer and accept.

From one of those horrible sites called something like jibjabjihad.com, where you can elf yourself up, plaster it's face on a mug and buy it, in order to fill that little sad spot inside you and make you feel better.

Jackie's Visa Castle

2009-09-13T23:24:00.001-07:00

Hoorah, Tabitha is back in action! No more Chinese internet censorship for me.

"How did you do it?" I hear you cry. The answer is - Magic. I can divulge no further for fear of encroaching on the 8th Harry Potter book rumoured to be set in a Dystopian future where the internet highway is blocked by a Baron Freespeechblockamort, and Harry and chums must work out a way round it.

I will now hand over the reigns to my pitiful owner as the guest writer for today.
********

I've spent the last week manically trying to stop my visa from expiring in my little hands. I spent two weeks in Hyperactive Stress Mode (similar to Berserk Mode in RPGs, but more neurotic) trying to get the relevant forms from my University and the reluctant local police station, whilst being thoroughly aware of my rapidly expiring visa. Then it was off the middle of nowhere outside the 59th ring road for a medical to prove that I don't have AIDS. The medical also checked my blood pressure, weight, height, hearing, sight, colour blindness, heart rate and internal organs. Luckily, the visa application process is pretty relaxed with ID, needing only your passport, dental records and your original umbilical cord.Then it's back to the other side of town and off to the Division of Exit & Entry Administration of Beijing Public Security Bureau 出入境管理

I arrived at the Bureau.

Lordy.
No one would serve me, because I hadn't yet picket up a ticket. The ticket machines print off a 4 digit-number ticket for you that indicate how many people are waiting ahead of you. Mine was 1408. This then qualifies you to sit in the Visa Waiting Area and listen out for your number to be called, but at the same time there are different numbers being called out for people waiting for a different service (residence permits, over due visa processing, visas for Hong Kong nationals and so on). The result is hearing "Ticket 1311 please go to.../Ticket 12B79 please go to..."
simultaneously whilst different numbers are flashing on a separate screen in front of you screen. I could see people quite literally crying with fear. As it came close to my number being announce, I grew anxious. When the moment came, after 2 hours, I leapt up only to realised I was simply being allowed to join the long queue that snaked it's depressing way around the interior. I waited inline, bored.
When my moment eventually occurred, it was disappointing brief and impersonal. My medical form was glanced at, my 21 passport photos were snatched from me and my passport was extracted from my hands with no words
*STAMP STAMP STAMP*
"Come back in a week to collect it. NEXT!

What? That was it? That was the big moment? That was what all these days of nervous anxiety and rushing to have my blood taken had led to? Where was the interaction? The moments leading up to it were dull.

Inside the entry and exit bureau *1

As a result I propose the queuing process should be made more 'fun' and 'interactive' just to keep the adrenaline pumping application process consistent right up until the end.
It should work out so that you have to get your 87 digit service number from an Exit and Entry Bureau Employee who acts out the numbers in abstract dance and you have to work out what the numbers are. They perform the dance twice: once normally and the second time in reverse. You then have to convert that number into binary code (with the aid of a small handbook that you can only obtain by answering a series of questions on the history of Feminism in Estonia). You have 5 minutes to convert the number. Once your time is up you have to wait until what you *think* may be your 'number dance' is shown on the large screen in the middle of the room - that's your cue to go to service desk NG15368X (or whatever one is recommended). You have 14 seconds to get to the service desk, but you're not allowed to run. When you get there, you have to recite your number (now in binary coding) whilst someone throws balls with numbers written on them at your face.
You can not make any mistakes.
You get 60 seconds.
When you succeed, you can hand over your application and receive some kind of feedback on how well you filled out the form or how different you now look to your passport photo.

The End.
Get anything wrong or miss the time limits at any point and you have to repeat the whole process again.Exciting! Imagine the adrenaline rush! They could film it all and show the highlights as a television programme, with Chris Rock doing the commentary . It would be like Takeshi's Castle.
Perhaps they could employ Jackie Chan to shoot at you with a strong water pistol from a hovering plane whilst you attempt to hand over your visa forms. No one would ever succeed and the Chinese Government could relax in the knowledge that as the visa process is now utterly impossible rather than just annoying, dull and inconvenient; the number of foreigners in the country will decrease in time for the October 1st 60th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party. The end credits would roll over an image of a boot stamping on a visa application form. Forever.
Jackie's Visa Castle*2
*1: Photo is only a representation. The featured image is actually of the Inside of the New York Stock Exchange...but you get the idea.
*2: Artist's Impression.

Tabitha's Files Banned In China

2009-07-06T02:36:00.000-07:00

I have been out of action for a while. Blogspot.com is currently banned, so I can only access the site my clawing my way through a proxy server. It limits what I can upload. I feel depressed.

Twittering Twitchet despondent moan

2009-05-12T08:44:00.000-07:00

I've join Twitter. I was bullied into doing it. I don't get how it works or how it even benefits individuals...Here it is in all it's feeble stuffed toy glory .
x

Coco-cola involved in using mag to rebel shocker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-05-10T09:16:00.000-07:00

I am still struggling to get to grips with human life. Recently I heard that Coco-Cola is going to be promoting female empowerment.

Nationwide, the 'Diet Coke' female will be invited to 'Join the Rebellion' and celebrate her right to say no to the pressures and expectations of modern day life. What's a Diet Coke female? And what rebellion? Rebellion against modern life? Does this mean that all girlies that sip diet coke will be allowed to become rebels? Will dustbins be full of heeled shoes, hair straighteners and make-up? I decided to look into this a little further.

Coca-Cola’s press release states that they will be teaming up with Company magazine and producing a miniature magazine called, ‘Rebel.’ The first ‘impactful’ (nice one Cola even I, a creature that literally has cotton wool for brains, knows that ‘impactful’ does not appear in the English sodding dictionary…) issue will have articles on beauty, fashion and that staple magazine ingredient, 'celebrities', who ‘hint’ (urgh, that vague word, that basically implies no balls subtlety) at REBELLION. It’s obvious that Coco-Cola knows its market and hence, the brainless press release.

However, one only has to do a half-arsed double take to realise that campaign makes no sense. The aim of the campaign is to encourage the readers to say NO to the pressures of modern life. What might those pressures be….hmm. As a kitty, beauty, fashion, looking good and finding Mr Right doesn’t exist….Therefore, I would definitely say they are modern pressures for women…yet, in this new Cola magazine, they will be being flashed at women as though they are tools of empowerment. On top of that, this ‘Rebel’ magazine is featuring within Company magazine that already pretends style, beauty, consumerism and celeb gossip are vital to being a girl and therefore empowering. Such concepts are not empowering and are just self-immersing dross. It’s a magazine, like most womens magazines, that is barely connected to the outside world except via celebrities.

Yes, human society has moved on in one way from the 1950s, the ‘golden age’ of womens magazines, when articles focused on housework and knitting. However in their place, we now have these magazines that are so girlie and brainless that it makes me feel nauseous and lucky that I’m not human. Pages and pages filled with shitty garbage about current style trends, make up tips, sex tips, ‘secrets about men’. As these magazines realise they have nothing left to write about, they fill their obsolete pages with celebrity gossip; worshiping celebrity cretins like the Egyptians worshiped gods (and cats) and divulging every useless bit of pap about the soddingly dull lives of celebrities. The general assumption is that these magazines are empowering because they focus on women and ‘what women should like’. Yet all it means is that they are just encouraging women to be self-absorbed consumers, obsessed with trivialities and fixated on their personal lives at the expense of more broadly meaningful concerns. It seems, puzzlingly enough, that many women like to identify with that woeful ‘singleton’ and frivolous neurotic, Bridget Jones: Bridget Jones is the end result of womens magazines.

Anyway, my case in point is that it is utterly depressing that Coco-Cola, a large brand that sadly has a lot of influence, is simply just advertising via a womens magazine, under the guise of faux female empowerment.

Lonely China Trepidation

2009-04-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

I have been distant, out of touch, remote, lost and broken. However, I have returnethed. “What have you been up to?!” I hear my three followers cry. I’ve been travelling around China. I’ve seen a metropolis, a mountains and sorrow. Below you will find some holiday snaps from my journey.

The very beginning; we began the journey on a bicycle. It was snowy and cold. I froze, but my head turned to the mountains in the West and I remembered that I am, the Bicycle Queen. We cycled from homie home home to the train station. From there we caught the train onwards to Shanghai 上海.

All over Shanghai, people were waking queasy and despondent; we took an early morning stroll down Nanjing Lu. It was samey.

I met a squirrel-cat. Its facial expression coupled with its tufty and aloft tail indicated that it did not understand me.

We visited the bund. The skyline was shrouded in a misty haze; the buildings stood grey and flat.

A café put me in bad mood, when they refused to serve me. I sat and stared out the window, whilst my owner sipped a range of exotic teas. The day was not going well.

I insisted on returning to the bund that night - This time it sparkled.

The rest of the evening was spent in a Jazz club.

I fled to a mountain retreat.

I thought of a bear I knew back home; suddenly the room seemed too big for me....

Good Job Hunting

2009-02-16T23:07:00.000-08:00

My Owner currently is currently engaging in a strictly human activity: Job Hunting. For years, I have heard this word bandied about and imagined that the procedure was far more active and adrenaline pumping than the depressing, corporate grey reality. I pity humans. Sometimes. I used to imagine my owner creeping about the city, clad out in brown and grey in order to blend in with the surroundings, whilst keeping an eye out for Job Vacancies.

These Job Vacancies manifested themselves in a physical furry form and pottered about the urban prairie in groups, sniffing the air and snuffling the ground from time to time. I imagined that my owner would be keeping a look out for lone or unaware vacancies caught off their guard. When that moment happened, my owner would snarl into action, leaping over cars, rolling over pavements, chasing after the Job Vacancy as it bolted into bushes and sewers. Once the vacancy had been caught, my owner would clutch it, feeling it wriggle as it struggled in her hand, gaze at the job description written on its under belly and feel satisfied. Then she would march to the nearest job centre to get her job.My ummm imaginings of a Job Vacancy

You know, I really had a whole world worked out based on this concept. I assumed the job market was where you could go and buy a Job Vacancy if you didn’t have time to hunt for a job, or you could maybe trade a Job Vacancy you had caught previously. When I heard that the current job market was bad, I assumed that this would just mean more people hunting for Job Vacancies on the streets. I had always assumed it was hard to trade your Job Vacancy at the job market and that feral Job Vacancies were fairly scarce, so it was just better to catch one and make do. This would explain my owner's rather weird and pointless job history.

So, you can imagine my utter surprise, followed by extreme embarrassment at my cat-brained stupidity when I realised my entire imaginings about this were, in a colloquial sense, complete bollocks. Yesterday, I stumbled across my owner looking at Job Vacancies online. The conversation went something like this:

“Miaow, what ya doing?”
“Job Hunting.”
“I thought you had to be out and about to do that?”
“No, I’m looking at Job Vacancies online?”
“You can do that? Is that so you know which type to hunt down?*flexing my claws*Maybe I can help?”
“Err yeah…hunt…*sideways glance*…I guess…..more like ‘apply for’ though.”
“Apply? You have to apply to catch one?!”
“Well yeah, but it’s not catching one. You find a job vacancy on line, apply once you find one by writing narcissistic, inflated crap about yourself, maybe then you get an interview, then maybe you get a job.”
"Oh so it's all digital....you don't have to hunt them anymore?"
"Tabby what are you talking about? There's no hunting involved, I mean, ha ha, it's not like Job Vacancies are alive, like little animals that roam about the streets...."

It must have been my eyes widening, my mouth dropping open whilst the rest of my face stay completely expressionless and the little grey cloud of reality that formed about my head, that gave me away.

“Aww Tabby what’s up?…Did you think….? Job…Hunting….aww..here, come have a look. This is a job vacancy….here’s the application…..here’s a person specification.”

At that moment I wanted to cry at how dull the existence of humanity can truly be. Here in front of me weren’t fuzzy, communal animals with jobs written on their tummies, but pages and pages of words like, ‘Communication Skills,’ ‘Person Specification,’ ‘Administrative Procedures,’ ‘Competancies.’ That last one, competancies; having to write how you meet the competency for: ‘Encourages coworkers to ensure a new version is effective,’ or ‘Facilitates systems for knowledge transfer between teams and departments’, must be the dullest thing one can do with their spare time because I don’t even know what they mean.

The moment I first saw a person specification

But there was one that truly stood out. One of them was listed as ‘Is self aware.’ Nothing else added. All I could think was luckily my owner is conscious being and able to recognise her own reflection in the mirror so hopefully won’t have any problem with that. Also she obviously has the added bonus of having self-awareness flow through her in bucket loads, where she scrutinizes herself to the point of neuroticism. Maybe they want it to be at some objective spiritual level and will just be expecting a cloud of thoughts to appear at the interview instead of her physical self, because she is so self aware that she no longer needs her physical body. Or something. But no, because that would be vaguely interesting and interesting is clearly something that Job Hunting is not. I will no longer continue my imaginings about Job Vacancies.

However....Tax Returns….now that is something that sounds cool. It sounds like a film. I really want to find out who Tax is. It sounds like a cat’s name. Maybe he’s a hottie?

Happy 牛 Year

2009-02-08T06:30:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s the a new Chinese year. The year of the Ox, 牛niu (pronounced neee-oh, well almost..), Happy Niu year. Oh god kill me. Anyway, today I introduce a guest writer in the form of my wretched owner. She has a Chinese New Year experience that she wants to write about.

So January 25th was the Chinese New Year celebration day. Imagine a week long New Years Eve celebration multiplied by Christmas plus Ramadan and fireworks that have taken a little performance enhancing druglet. Add this to a city with a population of 17 million where its citizens are only just recently embracing capitalism and generally having fun and you may be able to imagine the extreme excitement and mania that is Chinese New Year.

Fireworks start sounding off at around 10am and the resulting sound experience is:

//Bang bang bang (sonic)BOOOM *car alarm – meep meep meep * Bang poof fizzle *pause* Boom, BANG *car alarm*// and so on.

I spent the evening bringing in the New Year in between my two favourite structures in Beijing, The Drum and The Bell Tower (below is The Drum Tower, as viewed from the Bell Tower) having my ear drums disintegrate in time to the banging of the fireworks.

An old man brought along his fluffy little dog. You know the ones that are so inbred and weird that their hearts are already beating like a drum machine. Why, why would you bring it somewhere that was definitely going to scare the crap out of it? Unless that was your actual idea? More about that later… The dog was going mental.

Anyway, I like animals and was unable to resist the opportunity to photograph and film this bundle of fuzz. The owner spotted my interest and immediately scooped him up and plonked him in my arms. I initially hesitated, worrying that a firework was going to explode and little doggy was going freak out and bite me. Or shit and vomit all over me. Or die. Or maybe all these incidences would play out one after another in quick succession, a weird chain of events like some twisted chaos theory, each terrible incident setting up the conditions for the next. I’d be left covered in undesirable matter holding a dead pooch. Whilst this would all be taking place, the owner would be gazing up at an exploding firework or simply tying his shoe lace and would therefore not witness the event. He would return his attention back to a wretched me and his dead dog and simply, erroneously assume the worst. I’d end up having to explain myself in terrible Chinese feeling like I had become Larry David. It would not be cool.

Anyway, it was fine. The dog calmed down in my arms and burrowed its little nose into the crook of my arm and tucked its little paws in beneath itself. It was returned to its owner alive and I was just covered in a bit of dog hair. A total success. I think I like dogs an extra 0.5% more.

The night was air was freezing and eventually we gave up trying to stay warm and enjoy the noise level. We ended up in bar that has comfy couches, pool tables and cats. I spent the rest of the night taking pictures of moggies 猫咪 in order to show Tabitha that there are other souls for her to mingle with.

It's February 8th, the fireworks are still exploding constantly and it's hard to keep constantly reminding myslef I'm not in a war zone.

High velocity air blowing through narrow gap handy dryer -omac

2009-01-21T05:31:00.000-08:00

I went to a swanky bar for a drink with my fellow stuffed toy friend friend. We moaned about our lack of control over our lives, inevitably, the conversation eventually became a tad depressing. Oh, but then a trip to the toilet and things became interesting...

They had a hand dryer. They had a British model. It was one of those Dyson AIRBLADE things. Oh I'm sure they have them everywhere in London toilets, probably even on the walls in bars, in post offices.... but I've never seen one of these. I thought my paws were going to be sliced off.

So yes, apparently the "Dyson Airblade™ blows a high velocity blade of clean air through an aperture the width of an eyelash to wipe hands hygienically dry in just 10 seconds" according to the website.

I was pondering about how they came up with that name, Airblade ™. It's sounds quite fierce.
"So ya, what we gonna call this baby?"
"High velocity handomatic? Cold air dryer?"
"NO NO NO! We need something fierce, something slick and classy. Now how small is the space that the air blows through?"
"Uh oh oh, the width of an eyelash!"
"Exactly! The width of an eyelash or.....the width of a blade of grass......so...think about it, it's blowing AIR through a gap that is the width of a BLADE of grass....."
"Oh right so maybe Air Grass...."
"No you cretin! It's strong, a stream of AIR like the BLADE of a sword..."
"Oh oh! Air Sword!"
"No! That will scare people. We shall name it...AIRBLADE TM!"

*Everyone cheers, he cracks open a bottle of champagne, drinks from the bottle and kisses his PA. All the staff members climb onto the table, "Everybody Dance now" by C+C music factory mysteriously starts playing. The minute taker gives up as people are stepping all over his notepad that he was just doodling on anyway and he joins the fray. The PA slinks off to the toilet to cry and be sick.*

Everybody Dance Now

HEROES

2009-01-15T19:20:00.000-08:00

Heroes.
I refused to watch it at first, but have now been drawn in. Sigh. Anyway I am now on the third series. It seems original characters are effectively ‘levelling up’ by developing new super powers. Characters with previously lame or no powers seem to be able to shoot Hadouken style bolts, freeze people to death. There are a plethora of new characters with sketchy powers. Even Dr Suresh is getting in on the action. However, poor Dr Suresh who definitely drew the short straw dialogue wise and is arguably the dullest character, has only managed to turn himself into some grotesque being. Sigh…. The Heroes are all very immense and, yet again, the whole series is about stopping the destruction of The World, however most of the action takes place in New York. There are a lot of intricate plot details than blur past your brain and wreck havoc on your central nervous system. My paws are gripping the chair with a mixture of excitement and bewilderment. This is always the case when ANYTHING fictional brings in the space time continuum. Heroes is distinctly American and so during one of my quiet days, I set about pondering what heroes would be created if Heroes was ever re-made in the UK. Obviously they would be less glamorous and have more than a hint of bathos. Here is a cut out and keep list.

Vegan Rooster Boy:
Friendly animal activist who discovered whilst at university that he has
the ability to converse with caged chickens. Originally thinking he
would use his power to improve the livelihood of battery chickens,
Rooster boy has now become disillusioned as hens struggle with
understanding even the most basic concepts of Marxism and just pester
him with inane questions about 'the outside world'.

Telephone girl:
She has a really nice telephone manner. That's her power.

Inspector Rock paper scissor:
A police detective who has the ability to read minds, but only whilst playing the popular hand game, 'rock paper scissor'. Thus he has to coax all suspects that he is investigating into playing the seemingly harmless game whilst questioning them. His powers are limited to the UK and Ireland.

Postal strike super woman:
Ex royal mail worker who has the ability to fly whilst wearing her old royal mail uniform. When there's a postal strike, she decides to fly about the UK and single handedly deliver the mail. However, the task always proves impossible and she ends up going on strike herself.

Office girl:
Has the power to look busy at work, when there's actually nothing to do. She can also deflect terrorist missiles with her face.

Social ineptitude boy:
Has a rather dubious power of being socially inept and awkward in key situations, causing many to situations to escalate to 'curb your enthusiasm' levels of which Larry David would be proud. He has begun to write a situational comedy based on his experiences. After re-assessing his ability with Dr Suresh it is suspected that this may not actually be a special power, but in fact social interaction disorder.

Save the chickens, save......Hull.

Kitten and the Torrent(s)

2009-01-15T00:46:00.000-08:00

As a stuffed toy, I sometime find life rather dull, because it's difficult to live a life not based at all on Free Will. I often spend many hours in a Chinese apartment. Anyway, as a way to remedy this I began downloading TV programme popular with the youth of today. I one day stumbled up this little gem. It's symbolises many of the key things that are wrong in the world of Human beings. It's America's Next Top Model, with Tyra Banks. The basic format of the show is a reality TV show. There are 12 girls who hope to one day be top models. They do crazy photo shoots, get extreme makeovers (one of the girls always looks terrible and cries), get hung off the side of buildings, made to pose underwater in a dirty fish tank, broken down, get taught how to smile with their eyes etc. One is eliminated each week. It's hosted by Tyra Banks.

The first photo shoot is always 'hardcore'. They get them to model abstract concepts that I imagine are very difficult to convey in a photoshoot, like Abortion or Humanitarian Aid. In this series they had to portray cancer victims....
...I'm sorry....what?! The photo shoot was to show the effects of smoking, oh right, that's not disturbing or sick or very wrong. They were their made up to look like they'd had chemotherapy. Umm...?!!!! Most of the girls in this cycle smoked anyway, so stood around at the photo shoots painted white, wearing bald caps with bits of fluffy hair stuck to it, smoking a cigarette. I swore quite a bit at the TV.

Then a few episodes later, it was the makeover episode and Tyra decided to shave a girl's head. Just shaved it off because her hair was f*cked. Tyra said so, then she smiled.

The girl was close to breaking point.

The girls get their personalities picked apart. If they're not smiling, happy and commercial they're pulled apart by the judging panel (mere scrapings of humanity, devoid of any sense of moral being) until they cry and show 'they are human' then they get eliminated the next week for being over emotional.

It's horrible.

I totally want to see Roland Rat taking Tyra's spot in the next series.

The Bourne Existentialist

2009-01-13T23:42:00.000-08:00

So a fourth Bourne film is in the making. Currently the Trilogy has grossed $945 million and is noted for its realism.

Wow.

Realism….

I watched part of the first film one night. Granted I missed the first 20 minutes or so. I started watching it from when he's aware he has no memory of ANYTHING, EVER, yet he's sat in a cafe and he knows that the guy at the counter weighs roughly 215lbs and 'knows how to handle himself'; the licence plates of the 3 cars outside; that the waitress is left handed; that the exit is approximately 7 sprint steps away to his left; the best place to find a gun would be in the grey truck parked outside and that he could run for up to half a mile at the high altitude before collapsing.

He's practically a super hero, but...BUT he still doesn't know who he is. He's being tracked by CIA who now want to kill him and blah, people crashing through windows, hand to hand combat (vicious behaviour with a ball point pen, eugh!), high speed car chase in a mini, kicking doors open instead of just using the handle, using guns to open tins of dog food and whatnot. Meh. Just unnecessarily, overcomplicated and explosive.

You just sit there on sensory overload, unable to think about anything apart from what’s happening in front of your eyes. I found it hard to just switch off and just watch the film. There's far too much vying for your attention. Is it just me that gets like that with these kind of films? Maybe I just have a lowthreshold. I do like action films, but only when the plot is non-existent.

I like to switch off with a Jackie Chan or Tony Jaa film, because the plot is so thin on the ground, it's ok that there are a million people leaping about doing great things. With a lot of these Hollywood action films, they put the actors in such impossibly unbelievable situations so they have to be incredibly talented to act them out convincingly and most of the time.....they're not, they just happen to look nice on screen. I ended up spending the rest of the film ignoring the supposed story line because I was being distracted by the fact that a CIA agent was played by the repressed homosexual marine corp in American Beauty and that fact that it was set in Paris, and I want to go to Paris again.

I stopped watching after a while, because ….I was umm bored despite the ridiculous plot and action on the screen. I think it would have been more fun if it focused more on his memory loss. A film just about him grappling with the concept of life, the world, people, consciousness etc, an existentialist adventurer. The Bourne Existentialist, seeing as he'd had his memory completely wiped, a complete blank slate....