A musical treat to get into the swing of season 2010.
Subtitles very tiny on this, so there's the Big Screen version here..
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Beginning of the End of the Beginning
I can’t actually remember the last time I was even vaguely excited about a game between the Tiges and the Blues. Those former powerhouse teams, the team that eats its own young and the one that long ago sold its own soul. Must have been the '82 Grand Final.
Of course I don’t actually give a rat’s arse about the Game tonight, more what it signifies... Rebirth.
It may just be the uncomfortable seat I’ve been sitting in, the particular colouration of the scratchy scarf I’ve been wearing for much of my earthly existence, more-so of late, but there is a sniff of freshness about this season.
The smell of muddy children being thrown to wolves, breastmilk still dripping from their lips. The sense that these undeveloped forms and brains can be espaliered into something fine, something useful, something that will get us all the fuck out of the mundane, inescapable groundhogness we’ve all somehow got ourselves into.
It seems the unwelcome stormcloud over yonder, the cloud with the GoldCoast lining, the cold, cold change that will bring nothing but doom, has at least provided a Last-Days-on-Earth mentality in some quarters. A Final-Dash-Now-That-Nothing-Matters-Anymore logic. Lets buy up the young, lets euthanase the old, let’s tell that girl on the bus we’ve always loved her skimpy dress-sense and see where the fuck it takes us.
There’s a universal sense of joyous doomsday panic. Reading the internets machine today it seems the Americans have already packed their bags and resigned themselves to destruction, to The Rapture, all because someone wants them to be able to go to a doctor when they get sick. Stupid fascist bastards.
There is trouble on a biblical scale. Children are carrying knives, there are earthquakes, rising water, bushfires, blizzards, mudslides, hail and bad hair. Girls have taken over popular music and turned it to crap.
The walls are shaking, the earth is quaking, my mind is aching. So Hell let’s go make it.
The end is nigh, but it’s all just about to start.
Welcome to PunchDrunk 2010.
Of course I don’t actually give a rat’s arse about the Game tonight, more what it signifies... Rebirth.
It may just be the uncomfortable seat I’ve been sitting in, the particular colouration of the scratchy scarf I’ve been wearing for much of my earthly existence, more-so of late, but there is a sniff of freshness about this season.
The smell of muddy children being thrown to wolves, breastmilk still dripping from their lips. The sense that these undeveloped forms and brains can be espaliered into something fine, something useful, something that will get us all the fuck out of the mundane, inescapable groundhogness we’ve all somehow got ourselves into.
It seems the unwelcome stormcloud over yonder, the cloud with the GoldCoast lining, the cold, cold change that will bring nothing but doom, has at least provided a Last-Days-on-Earth mentality in some quarters. A Final-Dash-Now-That-Nothing-Matters-Anymore logic. Lets buy up the young, lets euthanase the old, let’s tell that girl on the bus we’ve always loved her skimpy dress-sense and see where the fuck it takes us.
There’s a universal sense of joyous doomsday panic. Reading the internets machine today it seems the Americans have already packed their bags and resigned themselves to destruction, to The Rapture, all because someone wants them to be able to go to a doctor when they get sick. Stupid fascist bastards.
There is trouble on a biblical scale. Children are carrying knives, there are earthquakes, rising water, bushfires, blizzards, mudslides, hail and bad hair. Girls have taken over popular music and turned it to crap.
The walls are shaking, the earth is quaking, my mind is aching. So Hell let’s go make it.
The end is nigh, but it’s all just about to start.
Welcome to PunchDrunk 2010.
Celebrity Head
This is back, for Round 1 at least, and will keep going while there's interest. Nick and Phil will actually be busy this year so they'll need some buddies.
Each week, or each time I get around to doing it, the Head will appear in our Header, which is kinda appropriate.
I just love a mis-guided theme. The plan is to have jumbled heads that consist of 2 footballers and one religious figure. The definition of that will rapidly slide as I run out of ideas. It's not exactly starting from a high point.
Just email me three names, you'll get a point for each correct one. The winner at the end of the Home and Away rounds takes all. Which is actually nothing at all. Glory. Maybe a piece of paper.
I expect CelebHead will at some stage be rejoined by GrandSunBall. No-one really knows though.
Each week, or each time I get around to doing it, the Head will appear in our Header, which is kinda appropriate.
I just love a mis-guided theme. The plan is to have jumbled heads that consist of 2 footballers and one religious figure. The definition of that will rapidly slide as I run out of ideas. It's not exactly starting from a high point.
Just email me three names, you'll get a point for each correct one. The winner at the end of the Home and Away rounds takes all. Which is actually nothing at all. Glory. Maybe a piece of paper.
I expect CelebHead will at some stage be rejoined by GrandSunBall. No-one really knows though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)