Columbo.
Best. Detective. Ever.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
My Favourite Fictional people- Day 2
I love Satan.
It's true. I love Satan.
Let me say it one more time for those of you who didn't hear. I love Satan!
Before my wife brings in the local rector for exorcism, I think that I should I clarify this somewhat. I love Satan, the character from Andy Hamilton's brilliant Hell based sitcom Old Harry's Game.
If you haven't heard of it, Old Harry's Game can be found in the nooks and crannies of the 6:30 comedy slot on BBC Radio 4 (although it is also available on CD if you're interested).
Satan...well what can you say about the devil? Well firstly, he feels that the uprising against God has been greatly misrepresented. It was more of a middle management delegation who went to the Almighty looking for a more executive role.
Satan finds himself in Hell providing full service damnation for all eternity or as God says in the series "I judge, you punish. Why rewrite a hit?" He isn't really needed on Earth to tempt humans anymore. Global sin is now at unprecedented levels even without him, thus causing massive overcrowding and an increased workload for the demons.
That doesn't mean that Satan doesn't get to sow some diabolical mischief from time to time. From adding extra teeth into Cherie Blair's smile while she's sleeping to taking the guise of Bill Clinton's zipper (52 times- he had to give it up because of the friction burns).
From a work perspective, there is punishing the damned- like the most vile and venal creature to ever walk the Earth, a man who Judas Iscariot calls "Gov"- Thomas Quentin Crimp (the chief executive of a privatised water board). Queen Victoria is punished by having her billeted with Harpo Marx and Yves Saint Laurent is punished by making him wear a donkey jacket.
The early series revolve around Satan's ongoing philosophical arguments with the Professor (an essentially good person who just happened to be an atheist), but later series went on to give us Satan's (and Andy Hamilton's) jibes at the world of the media, religion and politics when he went on a campaign of moral rearmament to do something about the massive overcrowding in Hell.
It's a great series and well deserving of your time.
It's true. I love Satan.
Let me say it one more time for those of you who didn't hear. I love Satan!
Before my wife brings in the local rector for exorcism, I think that I should I clarify this somewhat. I love Satan, the character from Andy Hamilton's brilliant Hell based sitcom Old Harry's Game.
If you haven't heard of it, Old Harry's Game can be found in the nooks and crannies of the 6:30 comedy slot on BBC Radio 4 (although it is also available on CD if you're interested).
Satan...well what can you say about the devil? Well firstly, he feels that the uprising against God has been greatly misrepresented. It was more of a middle management delegation who went to the Almighty looking for a more executive role.
Satan finds himself in Hell providing full service damnation for all eternity or as God says in the series "I judge, you punish. Why rewrite a hit?" He isn't really needed on Earth to tempt humans anymore. Global sin is now at unprecedented levels even without him, thus causing massive overcrowding and an increased workload for the demons.
That doesn't mean that Satan doesn't get to sow some diabolical mischief from time to time. From adding extra teeth into Cherie Blair's smile while she's sleeping to taking the guise of Bill Clinton's zipper (52 times- he had to give it up because of the friction burns).
From a work perspective, there is punishing the damned- like the most vile and venal creature to ever walk the Earth, a man who Judas Iscariot calls "Gov"- Thomas Quentin Crimp (the chief executive of a privatised water board). Queen Victoria is punished by having her billeted with Harpo Marx and Yves Saint Laurent is punished by making him wear a donkey jacket.
The early series revolve around Satan's ongoing philosophical arguments with the Professor (an essentially good person who just happened to be an atheist), but later series went on to give us Satan's (and Andy Hamilton's) jibes at the world of the media, religion and politics when he went on a campaign of moral rearmament to do something about the massive overcrowding in Hell.
It's a great series and well deserving of your time.
Monday, May 18, 2009
My Favourite Fictional People- Day 1
Today is the the first day in a series of themed blogs. I had intended to call it a theme week, but I think that I prefer to keep going with this one until I start to get bored with the idea.
So, what's the dealio, as people who haved lived a middle class lifestyle, had quite a good education and never ever been shot by their homies are wont to say? The plan is to talk about my favourite fictional characters whether from the world of film, TV, literature, comics, radio or any other medium.
I hope not to gush too much, but if I start to get too enthused it may just be because I have consumed a packet of Skittles washed down with Lucozade. Please rest assured that when they drag me off the ceiling (and make me put my clothes back on), I will have raised my overall risk of tooth decay (brush twice daily kids...It's important).
Day 1- Spider-Man
A while back while visiting with my father, my nephew approached me with his large shoe box full of Superhero action figures. He is 9 years old now and wanted to show them to me as I have developed something of a habit of buying him comics for Christmas and Birthdays. We went through the box carefully and played with each of the action figures, fitting any acoutrements which came with them and dutifully pressing any buttons (useful side note- Dogs can eat toy missiles if fired in their general vicinity. If this happens, offer to buy another action figure, don't try to reason with the dog for the safe return...and it's not worth it to wait for it's return any other way).
Then a serious look came over his face. To be honest, I was concerned. If there was something really wrong, I wasn't sure what to do. If he was being bullied at school, could I teach him how to drop a guy with an elbow to the throat? Or to set fire to his bully in the school yard. Would that be the act of a responsible uncle? Such matters are still before the courts and therefore I am precluded from commenting.
He looked at me with his big serious eyes and asked- "Uncle Simon, who's the best superhero?"
My mind was paradoxically relieved and panicked at the same time. I am by nature slightly obsessive compulsive and when asked a question like this I like to weigh up all of the options. Even with two little eyes looking at me, I wasn't sure that this was something that I could answer. Or at least it wasn't something that I could answer without the use of flow charts, several graphs and a highlighter pen.
I tried to explain the various skills of different superheroes- Batman is a skilled detective. Superman is a talented investigative journalist and is a selfless hero helping throughout the world. The Thing is strong and brave. Wolverine has awesome hair.
As my rationalising went into it's second minute, two little eyes started to glaze over. And then a second question came- "Who's your favourite superhero?"
"Spider-Man," I said.
"So, Spider-Man is the best superhero then," he said packing all of his action figures away.
Spider-Man is not only my favourite superhero, but also probably my favourite character in fiction. There is a very powerful story around his origin. The lonely kid, bullied at school finding power and with it arrogance only for that to be his undoing when he fails to stop the man who killed his surrogate father. Basically this guy becomes a superhero out of guilt. He's a little like Sisyphus forever rolling his rock, trying to make up for a mistake which he never can make up.
I started reading Spider-Man in the reprints in the old Spider-Man and Zoids comics back in the 80's. It was a year filled with the return of the Hobgoblin (a villain who was made all the more intriguing by the fact that we didn't know who he really was) and his kidnapping Mary Jane and Harry Osborn, and the Sinister Syndicate. A contract was put out on the life of Spider-Man and a millionaire assassin (and successful entrepreneur in the non-killing people for money world) called Puma came to collect. There was drama, suspense, excitement and above all a great deal of fighting. Young boys like that sort of thing. I probably would have read Pride and Prejudice at that age if someone had told me that Mr Darcy did Kung Fu and killed people with a samurai sword.
Peter Parker has been through a lot since then. Amongst other things he's been buried, cloned, married to a supermodel, had that marriage erased through a deal with the devil (don't' ask), his aunt died (in a beautiful JM DeMattheis story), was resurrected, was kidnapped, was shot and almost died, became a best selling photojournalist, became a paparazzo, went to jail, got out of jail, went to jail again, took on four other superhero identities, became a teacher, fought his future counterpart and discovered that he's part of a weird totemistic legacy thing (I didn't quite understand it, so don't ask me to explain).
Why do I still read after all these years? I guess that it's because I care about the guy.
I gave up reading once. During the nineties, there was a push to move to a hipper Spider-Man, thus leading to the now much derided Clone saga. The story being that there was a clone of Peter Parker dating back to a story from the seventies, but in the spirit of dramatic story reversals, the clone was the real Spider-Man and the Spider-Man we had been following for many years was in fact a clone. Except he wasn't. It was an experiment on the part of Marvel comics, but not a successful one. As far as I recall, readers hemorrhaged from the title and Peter Parker was returned to his rightful mantle of Power and Responsibility. I drifted back a couple of years later.
So, what's the dealio, as people who haved lived a middle class lifestyle, had quite a good education and never ever been shot by their homies are wont to say? The plan is to talk about my favourite fictional characters whether from the world of film, TV, literature, comics, radio or any other medium.
I hope not to gush too much, but if I start to get too enthused it may just be because I have consumed a packet of Skittles washed down with Lucozade. Please rest assured that when they drag me off the ceiling (and make me put my clothes back on), I will have raised my overall risk of tooth decay (brush twice daily kids...It's important).
Day 1- Spider-Man
A while back while visiting with my father, my nephew approached me with his large shoe box full of Superhero action figures. He is 9 years old now and wanted to show them to me as I have developed something of a habit of buying him comics for Christmas and Birthdays. We went through the box carefully and played with each of the action figures, fitting any acoutrements which came with them and dutifully pressing any buttons (useful side note- Dogs can eat toy missiles if fired in their general vicinity. If this happens, offer to buy another action figure, don't try to reason with the dog for the safe return...and it's not worth it to wait for it's return any other way).
Then a serious look came over his face. To be honest, I was concerned. If there was something really wrong, I wasn't sure what to do. If he was being bullied at school, could I teach him how to drop a guy with an elbow to the throat? Or to set fire to his bully in the school yard. Would that be the act of a responsible uncle? Such matters are still before the courts and therefore I am precluded from commenting.
He looked at me with his big serious eyes and asked- "Uncle Simon, who's the best superhero?"
My mind was paradoxically relieved and panicked at the same time. I am by nature slightly obsessive compulsive and when asked a question like this I like to weigh up all of the options. Even with two little eyes looking at me, I wasn't sure that this was something that I could answer. Or at least it wasn't something that I could answer without the use of flow charts, several graphs and a highlighter pen.
I tried to explain the various skills of different superheroes- Batman is a skilled detective. Superman is a talented investigative journalist and is a selfless hero helping throughout the world. The Thing is strong and brave. Wolverine has awesome hair.
As my rationalising went into it's second minute, two little eyes started to glaze over. And then a second question came- "Who's your favourite superhero?"
"Spider-Man," I said.
"So, Spider-Man is the best superhero then," he said packing all of his action figures away.
Spider-Man is not only my favourite superhero, but also probably my favourite character in fiction. There is a very powerful story around his origin. The lonely kid, bullied at school finding power and with it arrogance only for that to be his undoing when he fails to stop the man who killed his surrogate father. Basically this guy becomes a superhero out of guilt. He's a little like Sisyphus forever rolling his rock, trying to make up for a mistake which he never can make up.
I started reading Spider-Man in the reprints in the old Spider-Man and Zoids comics back in the 80's. It was a year filled with the return of the Hobgoblin (a villain who was made all the more intriguing by the fact that we didn't know who he really was) and his kidnapping Mary Jane and Harry Osborn, and the Sinister Syndicate. A contract was put out on the life of Spider-Man and a millionaire assassin (and successful entrepreneur in the non-killing people for money world) called Puma came to collect. There was drama, suspense, excitement and above all a great deal of fighting. Young boys like that sort of thing. I probably would have read Pride and Prejudice at that age if someone had told me that Mr Darcy did Kung Fu and killed people with a samurai sword.
Peter Parker has been through a lot since then. Amongst other things he's been buried, cloned, married to a supermodel, had that marriage erased through a deal with the devil (don't' ask), his aunt died (in a beautiful JM DeMattheis story), was resurrected, was kidnapped, was shot and almost died, became a best selling photojournalist, became a paparazzo, went to jail, got out of jail, went to jail again, took on four other superhero identities, became a teacher, fought his future counterpart and discovered that he's part of a weird totemistic legacy thing (I didn't quite understand it, so don't ask me to explain).
Why do I still read after all these years? I guess that it's because I care about the guy.
I gave up reading once. During the nineties, there was a push to move to a hipper Spider-Man, thus leading to the now much derided Clone saga. The story being that there was a clone of Peter Parker dating back to a story from the seventies, but in the spirit of dramatic story reversals, the clone was the real Spider-Man and the Spider-Man we had been following for many years was in fact a clone. Except he wasn't. It was an experiment on the part of Marvel comics, but not a successful one. As far as I recall, readers hemorrhaged from the title and Peter Parker was returned to his rightful mantle of Power and Responsibility. I drifted back a couple of years later.
There is a lot of great stuff out there to read. A good gateway into Spider-Man would be the Amazing Spider-Man comics done by J. Michael Straczynski and John Romita Jr (my favourite comic artist). Paul Jenkins and Mark Buckingham also did good work on Peter Parker: Spider-Man (issues 25 and the story about Peter and his Uncle Ben's love of baseball in issue 33 are particular standouts). The original Stan Lee/Steve Ditko stories are still great, great value in huge black and white volumes.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Real Men do it with Power tools
"We need shelves in the Bedroom."
Six little words. Six words that started it all.
I don't mean to sound disparaging about my beautiful wife. She was of course correct. We did undoubtedly need shelves to accommodate the several billion books strewn across the floor of our bedroom. To be more specific, we needed shelves to accommodate the several billion books piled high on my bedside table which was in grave danger of toppling over and crushing my wife and I while we slept.
In the spirit of the Recession (and I suppose also the Little Red Hen), I decided it would be best and more economical if I did it all myself.
"No," I said. "I decry the use of such things as self assembly furniture kits or going to Ikea... That will be too easy. I will buy wood and build these myself."
You know the old science fiction question, where you ask if you had the chance to kill Hitler in his crib knowing what he would do later, would you do it? I now find myself asking if at the moment I decided to build the shelves from scratch would have been the opportune moment to clock myself over the head with something large and heavy. Yes, science fiction teaches us that this would cause a time paradox and possibly endanger the integrity of the whole space-time continuum, but I believe this could be considered a special case.
I want you to understand that I'm not a weak-kneed wimp. Quite to the contrary, I know my way around a Black and Decker. I know the optimum angle to hold a saw at and how to do so and not come out minus a finger. I know the right Rawl plugs to use in a cavity wall. I know how to lay a path. In theory.
Since I first met my wife, her father has subtly and very gently spent time teaching little DIY skills as he worked on projects around his house. A very kind and generous man, he has always been very giving with his time and advice, and is never chiding or discouraging. His attitude is that there is usually a way to repair any mistakes you make.
So it was with this Bravado that I approached B & Q, filling up my car with brackets, screws, rails and furniture board.
My first job was to attach the rails to the wall. So I measured, I checked the levels, drilled the holes, knocked in the Rawl plugs and screwed it all in.
It was crooked.
Not just a little, not so much that no body would notice. It was so crooked that it made Bank chief executives look straight.
I removed the screws and started again, all the time muttering to myself with such force and vehemence that as I recall nearby sailors began blushing with embarrassment.
Apparently there is an old saying- "Measure twice- cut once." Why I had never heard this expression before my wife mentioned it as I was pushing Polyfilla into tiny holes in the wall I don't know.
As the shelves were intended to frame the bed, I started on the other side. These went in without a problem. I decided to double check the distances for the brackets and realised that the rails on one side of the bed are half an inch narrower than the other (my wife doesn't know this and I would rather that you didn't tell her).
I could go through the catalogue of errors in full and lurid detail, but that would be too painful. However, these were the highlights.
- I sawed all the shelves. The edges were all at a 45 degree angle.
- I varnished the wood using a paint brush which had previously been used to paint some radiators blue. Hence my otherwise natural pine shelves contain a nice lurid vein of blue.
- I left the varnished shelves outside to dry in the sun. A bird crapped on them (I cleaned it).
- I screwed in the brackets...in all of the wrong places.
- I tried to set in the largest shelf (some 7 feet in length) and dropped it on my head repeatedly.
- I enlisted my wife's is setting the largest shelf. I dropped it on her head repeatedly.
Life is back to normal now and the shelves look great. I have spent the last couple of days hiding out on the living room sofa. My wife is still suffering from amnesia and doesn't remember how the lump on her head came about. Although she has been suggesting that we might look at converting the attic....
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