Not with a 'BANG' but a whimper......Remembering Tropical Storm Tomas

There is little left to be said. A patch of bad weather immediately to the East of the Island has disrupted commerce, created mass panic and once again shown up the incompetence of an entire government. And even though the most amateur of meterologists (ie ME) could have forecast the insignificance of the event, the people of this 'Mango' Republic have somehow conspired to make a long weekend out of this.


The most frustrating thing of course has been the apparent lack of up-to-date information and the general lack of a plan. Without even as much as a drizzle, the Government took the decision to shut down offices at midday and to dismiss schools throughout the entire country. The immediate result: well over one hundred thousand Public Sector workers and students jostling for a way home. *Cue the traffic jams*


Personally, I had the unfortunate pleasure of being in transit as it unfolded. And a drive which should have taken less than five minutes in flowing traffic - robbed me of an hour and fifteen minutes of my life and left me with a new pain in my ass.


It now appears that as a nation, we are prone to mass panic attacks or that we are now open to any suggestion that would lead to the curtailing of work hours. It would have been curious to check on the status of the limers on the 'Avenue' this past evening. I am almost certain that they were out in force, in their rank and file - drinks in hand - toasting Tropical Storm Tomas as it veered past us and headed towards our neighbours to the North.


Much unlike the police, the military and the emergency services of this country who still remain clueless as to how they ought to act in any situation of public urgency. If they were out conducting traffic, patroling the streets and evacuating the cities - I certainly saw no evidence of it.


At least with Bimshire in its sights, Tomas has now found a more equally matched adversary. Barbados being a more orderly country - they would obviously be better prepared for an event such as a Tropical Cyclone. I will say a pray for them nevertheless, as this has not been the kindest of weeks for them. Fare thee well Bimshire. You will survive this too. And show remarkable composure in so doing.

Thanks to GQ I'm going to have to re-evaluate my position on watching 'Glee'

So, Ok. Lets face facts. I'm a hetero - so the chances of me being a regular watcher of the Fox Television Series 'Glee' are slim to none. From the little that I have watched of the show, I can only opine that sixty minutes of relative 'nobodys' singing covers of old pop-songs is about as compelling as watching karaoke from the back of a crowded smoke-filled lounge in Hong Kong. To me 'Glee' is all filler and no meat.

Now enter GQ. Intent as always to win hearts and minds - and to change the course of pop-culture one month at a time. I long ditched GQ in favour magazines that had loftier pretensions (thats you Esquire). And for me its relevance in all things pop-culture has long been eclipsed. Until now.

I have presented above, exhibits one through six that together prove me wrong. In the first instance, on the question of its (GQ's) relevance. And in the latter, on the subject of 'Glee'.

Based on the evidence, I must admit to the errors of my ways. And though, I am not naive enough to believe that either Ms Michelle or Ms Agron will ever be featured in character in such sexual charged poses on the show that has now made them famous - these photos have gone a long way to making me a fan of theirs and perhaps even by extension, a fan of 'Glee'.

For all the wrong reasons. Yes, perhaps. But for tonight, Glee has been rescued from the 'dustbin' in my mind - at least until such a time that the redundancy and absurdity washes these images from my mind.

Damn you GQ! But, Hello there, Glee Girls.

Poetry Break #4 - Woolworths

I caught a glimpse of the child today.

A Frustration of reflections,

Dancing along the mirrored glass sides

Of steel horses sauntering on stone & asphalt

That gore at his feet as they steal past.

He is running alongside them now,

Looking for an escape,

A space to dart through

But his need goes unnoticed.

Questions unanswered

And Graces unaccounted for,

He has long stripped himself of himself

And left it there abandoned

At the curbside.

The road rises up to meet his feet,

In his hands - a ball

The world clutched to his 40 lb frame,

Bigger than he is and

Perched precariously above his snow-white shoulders.

He stops now.

He notices now.

He knows.

The child turns around to face me.

The traffic grinds to a halt;

Time (that infinite machine) grinds.

And the world stops turning in his hands,

Tips forward

And crashes to a fault.

The word is stripped from me now.

Laid bare, I am nothing but a hanging sentence.

With nothing more than

The memory of a reflection of a ghost.

His cold eyes reach up to mine now

From three feet off the ground.

Accusing,

Pointing,

Giggling impishly –

Giddy with the casual realization

That the child

Is me?

I am meditating upon

Klee’s ‘Scream’,

(Does the man scream because someone has stolen the words from his lips?

Or does he scream because he is ‘me’)

Its all too much for me to digest.

Its greater than the sum total of meaning.

To much to bear on these shoulders

(Too much; too bare - these shoulders)

For I long dropped the ball

And watched it crash,

On a stone and asphalt heart.

And Watched the child

Plucked up from this place.

High above the men and the steel horses,

Drifting, floating out of reach –

The child is lost.

The Child is lost.

No search parties assembled.

No army of angels dispatched.

Only an open grave

Hungrily waiting,

The (printer’s) devil adds another ‘S’ to the ‘child’s laughter’.

The devil adds another name to his ledger.

I know I'm late to the party but B*G Rocks!

I am fully aware that I am late to the fabulous party that is 'Battlestar Galactica' (or 'B star G' to longtime fans). Quite frankly I never gave this show a chance while it 'quietly' had its four year run on SyFy. But I did have the good fortune of catching it from the start on a local television station, and now I'm hooked!

Now be sure of one thing: this is not the Battlestar Galactica of your childhood. There are no cutesy furry Daggits to pre-occupy the kids this time around. B*G is the real thing. With complex plot and character developments, great acting, beautiful faces and chock-full of adrenaline inducing excitement. This is just a cool ride through and through! And quite possibly not only one of the best updates ever attempted in television and cinema - but also a far superior product to the late 1970s original.

So if you are up for one of the most entertaining, thought provoking, plot-driven dramas to hit the small screen in the past decade then tune into CNC3 this Friday night at 8.00PM.

Matchbox Art

Personally, I've been a big fan of music video as an artform for much of my life. For me, it was the video for Billy Preston's 'Nothing from Nothing' that first tuned me into the fact that music and images could be married together to form something thoroughly entertaining and nothing short of magical.

From there I discovered the provocative nature of music video when I 'fell in love' with Debbie Harry and the band Blondie thanks to this video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtGWVoLGAA8&feature=related.

Soon after, MTV was born and in a time when MTV still aired music videos, I just couldnt get enough. From the Buggles to Men at Work to Duran Duran - music became irrelevant inless there was a quality music video to accompany it. Many of the iconic images of my past ARE borrowed from these 'objets d'art'. I am an appreciator and a worshipper. And in another life I would have quite probably pursued my dream of being a Director thanks in large part to music video.

Now. Where am I leading with all this reminiscing?

I stumbled upon this video from a band called the Navigators for a song called 'My Place'.

What makes this music video a work of art is not the quality of the music itself but it is the art direction. With reference to the artwork shown at the top of this blog entry, Prague-based designer Pavel Fuksa (a.k.a. jergot+gotroch), ambitiously designed 178 different matchbox designs for use in this music videos.

The result is something quite simple yet refreshingly different. And something that works well without being pretentious or self-serving. Its wonderful to see such a commitment to graphic design - especially where the opportunity exists to 'revive' a forgotten art.

This is great stuff! Let me know what you think.

Stupid Human Tricks: Just how did you break your collarbone?

This one is pretty self explanatory, but being the first installment in our series aptly titled 'Stupid Human Tricks, this deserves more than a drumroll and a hanky.

It never ceases to amaze me that an animal that is capable of exploring new worlds, and adapting to the neverending changes in his environment, is also quite capable of producing the occasional idiots as the ones in this partiucular case. As a series of unfortunate events, this would probably make for an amusing sequence in a movie. Not a very good movie mind you, but quite possibly the best sequence nevertheless. Two simple lessons to be derived from this adventure: Motorcycles stay outside and don't smoke in the house (shack, trailer or hovel). Either can contribue to a long stay at the hospital.

Hot Bitch of the Day - Rusty

Today's Hot Bitch of the Day is named Rusty. Now let me make this abunduntly clear: as much as he wants to be your bitch (boy; loving companion) he is not so prepared to say a permanent goodbye to his boy parts. Yes, today's HBOTD is a B-O-Y.

Rusty is a ridgeback mix an dis three years old. Which means he's got lots of energy to fill your days and lots of years left to give good service and unconditional love. Unfortunately, his parents are moving away and Rusty needs a new crib to cool his heels. On the plus side, he is well trained, has gotten all his shots, comes with his own house (see pic) and has a plethora of fun toys to play with.

So, if you are interested in opening your heart and home up to Rusty, why not give him a call at 344-3271 or 687-7895. Rusty is waiting to love you. :)