Disinterested Eminem Consumer, Turned Hater

September 22, 2010

Why is it always so damn loud? The entire world, creaking from the gravitational pulls of planets and stars. Giant asteroids, flying through space, the atmosphere suffering from the constant barrage of their debris. The sound of history, weighting down upon us as we hurtle through life — insignificant in the grand scheme of things, mere whispers in a hurricane called life, to borrow a stream of meaningless clichés.

And yet, despite all this, I have just heard, for the 3rd time today, Eminem making puns about window pains as he shouts his way through another ‘song’. As low an art form as rap is these days, has it just finally given up? Has rap finally just squatted down, overbearing weight on its unsteady knees, and given gastric flow to puns? WINDOW-BASED puns?

For those that haven’t heard it…

If a window metaphor is so vital to your song, how about rhyming defenestrate and penetrate? See? Just off the top of my head.
Or just saying them consecutively, shitty words flowing into each other as you shout your way through another hit, artfully relating the act of throwing someone throw a window with the act of shagging some tasty hoe.
That’s only slightly less shit then your lyric, and I just came up with it there. I don’t even have a tattered notepad.

So, and this is what kills me. This is why we stand in clubs, sit in bars, pints in our hands and naggins wedged between our buttocks, screaming. Screaming our amusing anecdotes to each other into ears, in the vain hope that sound will travel from globs of spit, hurdling through the air, into an ear canal (any ear canal) and directly to the brain. This is why? This is music now? This is why I have to hum a catchy chorus to myself all day, while inbetween I just reel of a list of horribly bad puns, as if the entire cast of a Carry On film had a reason to hate their parents and somehow combated this by shouting? I’m waiting for the next hit, where Barbara Windsor sings a chorus that revolves around cocks crowing, while in between Eminem verbally abuses small children, “you can’t go pop-ping more pills, Mom! I guess that’s why you lean on win-dow, sill… Ly.”

Why do you shout Eminem? Why must every song be shouted in the same monotone way, verbally forcing a rhythm into housing features, or housing features into a rhythm?

I didn’t mind you know. I could’ve honestly said I could take or leave Eminem before this moment, before this lyric. He wasn’t my kind of thing, but whatever — he may have mistaken rapping for shouting about himself, but at least he didn’t have gold smelted onto his teeth, or shout about some bitches’ booty, or other forms of thinly veiled rape.
But you’ve jumped the shark on this one, and now I can’t take anything you’ve done, are doing, or will do, seriously. I’m sorry Eminem, but you’ve just lost a disinterested — but ultimately respecting — consumer.

Paul Galvin: Entertainment’s Saviour

July 18, 2010

Potential, my friends. Potential. That hidden quality. That quality which to the wrong eyes is insignificant but to the right ones is unquantifiably vast — It’s finally been realised in Ireland’s most unquantifiable of sons. After years spent wasting his talents on fish hooking and student abuse, Paul Galvin may soon work on Ireland’s entertainment powerhouse, its quirkily spelt Xtraganaza: Xposé

If this is just a rumour, then it’s the strangest rumour I have ever heard on a reputable Irish news website. But if it’s true? I for one am delighted.

First up: I think that Paul Galvin is a thug who shouldn’t be let near a football pitch, never mind a classroom. Justifying anything he’s done as ‘passion’ belittles every other passionate player who happily go through a whole season without being suspended. And if what he does is ‘passion’ then maybe if he played slightly less passionately, we’d all talk a lot more about his obvious skill and talents rather than his rampant stupidity.

Paul Galvin Fishhook

But Xposé? Now that’s something he could sink his teeth into. Literally, maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him. Interview through blood-letting and pant-wetting. He might become one of the most feared and respected entertainment journalists of our time. A Dennis Pennis character, only very much real, very much abusive, very much a man who would rob your gates and sell them back to you.

He has the characterized dishevelment of journalists of old – rumpled suit, shaggy face growth. He’d slot right in — the perfect ointment for the arse piles that is E!, TMZ and the rest of the star-lit studio perfection that’s rammed down our throats everyday. This is a man that could get the real story from Mel Gibson, by sitting him down and going on a two week bender with him, hiding the bodies of hookers in bags of cocaine and chalk dust. An entertainment journalist in the vein of Hunter S. Thompson and the Gonzo Journalists of old. Fear and Loathing in the Dingle Peninsula: A Savage Journey into the Heart of Irish Gombeenism.

Paul Galvin_Dennis Pennis

Paul Galvin and his harem of Xposé totty — them travelling the globe to feed us with the banal, Galvin travelling the globe, sending in disconnected streams of prose and video reports, half remembered journal entries and envelopes full of celebrity blood and hair. And we will love every second of it. The realism, the truth, none of the airbrushed, breast-tweaked lies that are intravenously given to us through billboards and Sky News. Interviews and photos where black stars are still black.

Galvin could then becomes a celebrity himself — an Irish poet, a recluse who yet gets the story everytime. One who punches first and asks for a quote later, one who’s never afraid to fish hook his way out of situation. Paul Galvin: The Man Who Knocked Obama’s Dossier Out of His Hands.

paul galvin and his harem

I still won’t watch Xposé though. I’ll wait for the Paul Galvin spinoff.

Paul tackles rape-rape and its much lesser cousin: Rape.

July 14, 2010

Given recently developments on this Roman Polanski ‘thing’, I think it’s time I resurrected this rather angry 700 (ish) words that I wrote a half year back but never put up. At the time, I felt it was a bit,… uh ‘rapey’, but now that he’s free from the horrible, disgusting confines of his Swiss Chalet house-arrest, I think we need a little discussion (read: rant) on how as long as you’re famous, child abuse is aaaaaalllllright. To be honest, it’s more a rant against the star of films like Jumpin’ Jack Flash then anything else.

Warning: Sarcasm abounds.

Whoopi Goldberg on The View: “I know it wasn’t rape-rape. It was something else but I don’t believe it was rape-rape. He went to jail and and when they let him out he was like “You know what this guy’s going to give me a hundred years in jail I’m not staying, so that’s why he left.”

Whoopi, Whoopi, Whoopi. Rape-rape? Honestly, rape-rape? Wouldn’t it of been easier just to walk away? Just walk away and leave us with our Neanderthal views of not separating rape and getting a 13 year old drugged and drunk and then having sex with her?

Jumpin Jack Flash

Obviously, that was just a mild raping. Much like a mild decapitation, a mild elephant infestation or mild Jason Byrne. To throw this rape into the pot with, I dunno, rape, would be doing the crime of rape an injustice.

But, you know, I trust Hollywood. Those people are clearly better thinkers then us, the movers and shakers of the world that get transmitted to our screens by lasers and pixies and stuff. So I guess we should believe them. After all, this is pretty much exactly like the plot of How Stella Got Her Groove back, isn’t it? And that sure worked out for the best.

So, Rape-rape isn’t just rape I suppose. Rape-rape must be like, giving the child Corn Flakes beforehand, in the full, premeditated evil mind that the kid doesn’t like Corn Flakes. And then, BAM. Rape-rape.

So, to clear up a few matters first before we go into details (the horrible, disgusting rape-rape details, with some happy-go-lucky rape details thrown in). Since the Hollywood elite (those crazy geniuses) feel that Polanksi should not go to jail for a rape (of a minor) 32 years ago, we define rape-rape as something like, you rape someone, then steal their pants or perhaps, you sit down to watch Xposé, and then follow that heinous act with a little bit of rape.

That is, you rape someone, then you do something that warrants jail time.

And so rape must be, something like, I dunno. Something like rape-rape, but less, rapey? At what point is rape not rapey? Does the fact that some of the rape happened in a jacuzzi take off some the rape-edge? That it was champagne he gave her, and not a crate of Dutch Gold?
I dunno, still sounds pretty rapey to me.

But then, what kind of punishment does rape entail when we compare it to rape-rape?
What punishment could be doled out? If even a punishment should exist? After all, considering what rape-rape is, and Whoopi (and friends) believe he shouldn’t go to jail, then I suppose we should take other offences into account. Some sort of list where we can see what gets jail time (rape-rape) and what doesn’t (rape). For example, we could take into account that stealing a handbag can get you jail time, so, therefore, this particular raping of a 13 year old is not as bad as stealing a handbag.  Or, closer to the point, if, after raping, he forced her to cuddle after wards –that could be seen a kidnapping, a death sentence in some states, but leave her on her merry way and we may move to France, conscience clear that only a little bit of rape was committed. Much like that time you didn’t cut the grass when you said you would, or when you clicked ‘yes please, porn me up Mr. Internet’ when you were only 17.

I refuse to believe that Hollywood and the world in general is being lenient because he made a few good movies. Cos that would mean I could never watch another movie again.

But anyway, it’s all alright. Because later, Whoopi clarified the matter, saying she wanted to “make it clear that she was talking about the legal charge against Polanski at the time.”

Yup. Clear as a filthy jacuzzi.

Next Week: Paul says the word ‘rape’ 20 times in something he wrote in the early 90s.

Paywalls! Paywalls! Paywalls!

July 13, 2010

Huge paywalls! Surrounding us! Insurmountable paywalls! AAAHHH!!!!

What’s a paywall? You bell end. How dare you ask such a question. You should be informing yourself on a daily, nay, hourly basis, on all new trends in online news and how it is/will/maybe changes from being merely directionless, Wi-Fi Cancer rays to being beamed directly into your brain via glossy, contemporarily designed websites.

But you can’t, of course. You can’t inform yourself, because of the PAYWALLS. Giant walls, constructed purely from pay and san-serif fonts, stopping us from reading about the news. The news, you see. The NEWS.

The Times over in England is now charging us for its online content, (€1.50 a day or €3 a week) and essentially, it’s playing the part of the budgie down the mines, only with an above average number of people wanting this particular budgie to die a horrible death – choking on a gas that for this metaphor, I will call “a lack of subscribers willing to pay for online news”. Read my beautiful prose.


The Times Paywall


So, does this even matter to us? Of course it does. Paying for stuff always matters. The Times wants us to reach for our wallet, take out our cards, type in some ridiculously long digits and then do it again because you made a typo. And then they’re gonna take €3 a week off you (€156 a year) for the pleasure of reading off a laptop screen. Are we ready for this? Are we ready for purely digital content, that at the end of the day is disposable? I can’t bring myself to pay for music that doesn’t have a CD attached. Buying games off Steam still seems strange to me. I have cupboards, I want to fill them with shit. Shit that I own, shit that will probably just gather dust, but by God, at least it has the physical capability to gather dust. I still like something tangible, something that’s not just 1’s and 0’s that exist on a server in India. Something that I can lick, had I ever the desire to do so.

But maybe I’m a Neanderthal. I fully admit that. I’m a Multimedia graduate, online consuming digital native who craves all sorts of online technological crap. But I also have cupboards. That I like to have filled.


It’s a strange one really. Some sites being pay only, other sites being free, all sites seemingly regurgitating the same shit from newswires and press offices anyway. Course The Times might have the right idea. If it can create actual, good, original, content (that’s hopefully 3D and gives me seizures) then people might actually be willing to pay for it. After all, it’s cheaper then buying the actual paper. And if it engages in actual investigative journalism, then people might actually pay for the scoops in an otherwise scoopless world without paywalls. Because this stuff costs money. Which can only be gotten by asking us to clamber up a paywall and toss some coins through a payslot, supposedly.

But then, there’s talks that if newspapers forgo print versions, the huge savings in producing an actual paper will save them. There’s also talks that if online newspapers actually engage users and create communities, then the information gathered will mean huge gains in targeted advertising (the way Facebook is using your information as we speak to give you ads about what YOU want, i.e., fucking and beer).

But you don’t give a shit do you? This has been going on a while now, and most of you probably hadn’t even noticed. Which is most of the problem. Rupert Murdoch (he owns The Times, Fox and a large part of 4th circle of hell, in case you really don’t give a shit) needs to learn that for the most part, this is still an issue that journalists and public relations folk are worrying about while the rest of us get with filling our cupboards and laughing at cats.

Madonna's Secrets

Call to David McRedmond of TV3: I can punch the Dáil onto your TV screens.

April 15, 2010

So, the Dáil is irrelevant. So says TV3 chief executive David McRedmond. Needs to be more “punchy”.

Well, fancy that. He does have a point, I suppose. If the Dáil is to get the extra TV coverage that it wants, then it might have to sex itself up a bit. The times I’ve masturbated to The Oireachtas Report’s mostly tedious, wobbly-jowled visuals is far lower then Play TV, TV3 Flagship Cancelled Show.

Strange that.

But, relevant to what? Television? Other below average masturbation aids? He says that that it doesn’t appeal to his channel’s audience. So, taking TV3’s audience as the kind of people who watch Xposé, Ireland AM, Man with Debilitating Head Problem, then I take that to mean, calling up all my TV and Entertainment experience, is that what the Dáil needs is a green-screen, some Sybil MulCahy, and a large dose of irrelevant shite that’s of no real benefit or entertainment value to anyone.

Which is ironic.

However, obvious gaps in logic aside, if TV3 were to deliver some kind of Dáil coverage that needs to be fresh, compelling and dare I say, “Punchy,” then I have a few ball dropping suggestions; laying the groundwork for a show that could run and run, as the plebs gape on in a strange mix of fear, awe and pity.

You’d have to bring in some new talent, some new faces, young, hip, sexy, y’know the kind. Maybe you hold this talent search over the course of a few weeks or a month, some kind of national star search, and then televise it weekly or even daily? Some contestants could form, like, alliances or groups, or something like that and help each other win the approval of the nation.

And then, at the end of say, a 5 or 6 show run, you could have some kind of national phone in, or a kind of census, where we can all decide who has the most star quality. Well, I say all, but it’d have to be over 18 of course, it’s gonna be a pretty sexy, “punchy” show.

Michael Bay could direct, he’s just gotten into reality TV, and I got a couple of tins of green paint and a Multimedia degree, so I can definitely do some Xposé style green screen techniques. Anyone up for some floating 3-dimensional talking heads?

Get on to me, David, I’m full of ideas. The Steven Seagal Sequence and Van Damme’s Vapidy Veto are still up for grabs.