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Yep, got a new column name - want to know what it means? Well, let's just
say it's my little secret. And no, I don't know what it means, but that's
not important, as I'm the one writing, you're the one reading, understood,
sunshine? It's impressive though, isn't it? Deliciously pretentious - thanks
to Hamster69 for that, but thanks as well to the other individual who gave
me suggestions for a new column name. That's right, two people took part in
the big competition - I'm very, very disappointed in you all, but I'm wiling
to let this sordid little incident go, just so long as I have an apology
waiting for me in my inbox by Tuesday. Oh, and to everyone who was excited
about this column being entirely in haiku form - hold onto your hats, 'cus
we're in for a haikuin' good time!
I am a liar
A column all in haikus?
I don't think so, bub
Feels good to get that out the way.
Seriously, a column entirely made of haikus? Ain't gonna happen. I might
just end each section with a little piece of Japanese poetry, summing
everything up in a way that's easy to remember and fun to recite. Of course,
if more than TWO PEOPLE had responded to my marvellous name-changing
contest, then I might be more inclined to be carrying through with my
promise. So there. Anyway, on with the show!
Nostalgia Can Be A Very Hard Word To
Spell, or What's Up With All The Freakin' Transformers?
As you may have noticed recently, the
80s is now the decade en vogue, following the traditional 20 years wait that
takes place for things to become cool again. It happened in the 70s with the
50s, it happened in the 90s with the 70s, and it's happening now in the
2000s with the 80s. Is 2000s the right word? 00s really doesn't look right,
so 2000s is really the only alternative. no matter though, it's not
important. What IS important is asking why does this happen? Why have we
suddenly decided that it'd be a good idea to get into Thundercats, Wham! and
early Kevin Bacon flicks all over again?
An obvious reason would be the whole 'regression' thing - by rediscovering
your love for things that dominated your youth, you might be able to forget
all the problems in your life like work, money and web-board feuds. Then you
can pretend that you're back in Mrs McKenzie's first year class where the
only things that mattered were finger-painting, cartoons and whether The
Hulk could beat Superman. Actually, I think the whole Hulk/Superman issue is
still a big deal for a lot of people, nostalgia or no nostalgia. My
thoughts? Superman would wipe the floor with him - haven't you people learnt
anything over the years? Superman 'died' once before, and he came back - the
guy's invulnerable. As long as The Hulk doesn't eat Earth's yellow sun or
something, there is just NO WAY he could get one over The Man Of Steel. You
want a real battle? Batman vs. Wolverine. Just so long as Batman doesn't
have any of his gadgets that mess with your head or make your stomach
explode, you've got one heck of a fight. I guarantee that this one paragraph
will account for most of the feedback (if there is any) that I get for this
column. Damn fan-boys.
Anyway. before I go even more off-track, let's look at other reasons. I
don't completely buy the whole 'regression' thing, although I wouldn't be
surprised if that plays a part in a few twisted individuals with
subconscious desires to still be suckling on their mother's teat. Bunch of
sicko mentalists, they should all be locked up. Or something. Anyway.
another reason could be the 'CMOISI' theory I invented. 'CMOISI' stands for
'Check Me Out, I'm So Ironic', and will usually apply to people aged 17 - 24
who think that remembering all of B.A. Baracus' catch-phrases will win them
both attention and acclaim from their peers. Or knowing all the words to
'Rio', which everyone knows is just unspeakably sad. The only Duran Duran
song that everyone should know the entire lyrics of is 'Ordinary World',
which is simply the best tune ever. As for the others, yes, knowing the
choruses is essential, but as for the verses? That's when you groove your
funky electric boogaloo, so no singing along is necessary. In any case, so
this is how it goes - the CMOISI people will only have a vague memory of the
programme/band/film they idolise in later years, but slowly, as they realise
that others share this vague memory, they decide that it'd be wicked-cool to
become experts on the subject. Slowly, they begin to search for old videos
or CDs in order to become more of a master on the topic, using repeat
viewing to force themselves to like it. Then they buy a whole bunch of
t-shirts and badges to show just how damn cool they are, refusing to accept
that any 'new' stuff will EVER be as good as the 'old-school' stuff (that
they've only really been 'into' for a couple of months). Nonetheless, the
point is that in their quest to be alternative, these people end up looking
silly. Why? All will be explained in the last section.
And so we come to the final explanation for the wave of nostalgia that hits
us like a tidal wave every so often? Simple, really - y'see, it only takes
one or two people in a position of relative power to for something to come
back into fashion. A mention here, a reference there and WHUMP - there it
is. All it takes is a network executive to have a particularly fondness for
disco, and before you know it, there's a special night dedicated to the
wonder of disco, hosted by John Travolta and with music by Abba. Maybe it
shows the lack of originality that exists in the world today, or maybe it's
just inevitable - after all, wasn't it Hitler who said 'the more things
change, the more they stay the same'? And you can't argue with Hitler, that
guy's freakin' crazy.
Oh! Nostalgia
Thou art a wicked child
This segment was weak
Home Alone 4: So Very, Very
Frightened
I'm stuck at home right now, all
alone, while the rest of my parents are on holiday. The reasons? Well, I
thought I was getting a little too old for the annual bicker-fest abroad,
and I wanted to spend more time working in order to make a little cash
before University, so I thought I might as well stay at home. Also, it'd be
a little taste of independence, so I wouldn't be too shocked when I'm cast
out from the cosy bosom of family life, into the big wide world.
It was a mistake.
A terrible, terrible mistake.
The first day wasn't so bad - the novelty of being alone in the house was
still fresh, and I ran it how I saw fit. leaving all the lights on, moving
the TV into my room, and basically setting it up so I could have a fantastic
time with-out anyone else around. Life was good, but I didn't know what the
future held in store.
Day two was a little trickier - I started work at 9, and it takes about half
an hour to get to where I work, so I wanted to make sure I'd get up with
lots of time to prepare, have breakfast, shower etc. I woke up at 8:15, and
basically ran out of the door, clothes crumpled and not smelling too
fantastic. Not only did I do that, but I left the fridge wide open so when I
got home, it was cooling at 22°C, rather than the usual 4°. Fortunately
nothing was too ruined, but it was still a bit of a shock, and would no
doubt ensure that I'd get up with plenty of time to spare the next day.
Day 3, and I wake up at 8:20, only just getting to work on time for the
second day in a row. This time, I leave the iron switched on all and the
front door only partly locked. When I get home, I realise my mistakes, and
feel lucky that the house hasn't a) been burnt to cinders or b) been robbed
blind by an international group of thieves who've been monitoring my house
for months. To try and make myself feel better, I go to see Men In Black 2
with friends (which has only just been released here in the UK). Another
mistake, but I won't pretend that I expected any better. It was either that
or another viewing of Goldmember, so I think I made the right decision.
Well, possibly.
The fourth day, and thankfully, it's a Saturday, and everything goes
smoothly up until it gets dark. A light bulb blows in my kitchen, sending
the entire bottom floor of my house into darkness. The fuse box is in the
cellar, and as we all know, cellars are populated by rats, spiders, Freddy
Krueger murderers and the Evil Dead. It's night, so it's pitch black down
there, and naturally, I don't have a flash-light. The paranoia sets in, and
I just rock back in forth in the gloom, hoping that it's all a horrible,
horrible dream. Eventually though, I summon up the courage to venture down
there, but not alone - I find my trusty old light-saber, albeit one with low
batteries to accompany me into the Cellar Of Death. Aside from having to
decapitate some guy dressed all in black, I manage to replace the fuse and
enjoy the benefits of light again. I don't escape unscathed though, as I hit
my head on a low beam, giving me a nasty dent in the side of my head.
So, what have I learned from my experience so far? Well, for one I should
never be left alone again, for the safety of myself and others. Also, I am
the most inept food shopper ever. I have the best intentions when I go out
to get more supplies, but I end up with some pretty ridiculous items. I
can't think of an excuse for buying microwaveable pancakes, pop tarts and
oven cook potato shapes that look like smiley faces rather than bread, milk
and vegetables, but I'm just about surviving so far, so it's not all bad.
However, I'd say I'm just a few days away from getting scurvy, which can't
be good.
Tom is all alone
He can't look after himself
Someone call the police
Another week, another column. I've
got mixed feelings about how it reads, but to be fair, I'm both physically
and mentally exhausted from work and the trauma of having to look after
myself. Expect next week's to be better. actually, don't. Expect next week's
to be really, REALLY bad, so then I can impress you all with a mediocre
piece.
Go talk to Tom at
tommyb_uk@hotmail.com. Seriously, he's very lonely now and needs someone
to help him. |
