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Real Life Soundtracks

Movies and television programs incorporate songs into their soundtracks carefully, thoughtfully and with relevance to the scene at hand - after all, it would be frankly ridiculous (although possibly hilarious) to use Minnie Riperton's "Loving You" as non-diegetic background music to a prison rape scene.  In fact it would be ridiculous to use that song for any reason -  aside from perhaps, for determining what your dog sounds like howling.  Or to demonstrate the effects of high-pitched frequencies on glass.  And possibly as a mostly cost effective alternative to waterboarding.

But some songs make for great soundtracks to the goings on and frivolities of everyday life - police pursuits, for instance, are a great example.  On the Spotify playlist on my phone for example, I have two bluegrass "getaway" songs - "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" by Flatt and Scruggs and "Whitehouse Blues" by Bill Monroe.  They're great for whenever you're in the …
Recent posts

Auckland

I love Auckland. Well, the central city and the East Coast Bays parts of the North Shore anyway. In the case of the central city my love for it extends only from the time in the morning at which it is safe to wear anything that costs more than 70 dollars to the time in the evening at which that ceases to be the case again. Outside those hours, your chances of being mugged, robbed or stabbed go up exponentially. On the upside, your chances of getting laid are probably pretty good if a) you’ve got a lot of money and prefer to solicit sexy time from reputable escorts and respectable rub ‘n’ tug joints (BTW what’s The Whitehouse like? Asking for a friend), or b) you don’t have a lot of money but the otherwise gruesome prospect of genital warts and passing razor blades through your swizzler is a non-issue. On the downside however, your chances of getting laid are likewise pretty good if it’s against your will. But then again, if you’re intellectually short-changed enough to go waddl…

I'm back baby....maybe.

Yeah, that's right.  I'm back.  Maybe.  It's been AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGEEEEEESSSS since I last wrote a post - like last August, and the last time I was posting on a regular basis was even further back - if memory serves me right, we'd just gotten out of the paleolithic era, everything was in black and white, lambskin loincloths were all the rage and Noah was still alive.


So what, you may ask, has compelled me to revisit this blog?  Having twigged that this blog (out of my three Blogger blogs) has been sorely neglected, I set out to see why.  Aside from the fact that I don't in fact hate everything and in fact would rather be taking the piss out of everything via satire, I got bored of writing lengthy (or semi-lengthy) posts that I felt compelled to write on a regular basis.  And thus, my quasi-ADHD tendencies got the better of me.   So I'm now thinking of writing less, but more often.  I'll see how it goes - writing is a somewhat tiresome and suprisingly time-con…

Strippers have feelings too...and human rights.

An issue pertaining to the sexual assault of a stripper by members of a provincial rugby team has recently been making the rounds of the various media outlets in New Zealand, including on their Facebook pages.
And likewise, there has been a volley of responses on the Facebook page to the story. Mostly negative of course, but in this instance many of these comments are essentially shifting the burden of guilt from the actual perpetrators themselves onto the victim herself. And it is this victim blaming mentality that irks me just as much as the offending acts do. It is adding insult to injury when a stripper, whose occupation was traditionally centered around pure spectacle without groping, is accused of being irresponsible and subsequently culpable, at least in part, for her actions. And during my academic tenure, particularly with regards to those papers which focused on gender politics, I was instructed in various theories such as patriarchy, hegemonic masculinity and sexual o…

Dave On The Academic After-Life

So you've done it. You've put out enough sweat to bring Kiribati's submersion threat to a tipping point. You've driven yourself to a point of madness that you're borderline comatose. And you've written enough essays to make the sum of every Wikipedia page resemble a brief scribbling on a Post It note. You've completed university. And somehow, you are still alive. Somehow.
And yet, despite all the blood, sweat, tears and what have you, you've managed to do the unthinkable and complete your studies. In the time it took you to complete them, you've borne witness to the election of 24 US presidents, the reign of seven British monarchs, the coming and going of 50 popes, six viral epidemics, the Second Coming, the death of Keith Richards, the series finale of The Simpsons, the discovery of extraterrestrial life, interstellar travel, a Charles in Charge reboot, the discovery of intelligent life, solved the Rubik's cube by yourself, and of course,…

Dave on Wasted Food

Every time I pay a visit to the food court of my local shopping mall, I inevitably find myself staring at a plate that is neither full nor empty, but somewhere in between. Sometimes there is but a fraction of the original serving left – a scattering of a few assorted vegetables, bones, that sort of thing. But often I will find large swathes of food left over from the original meal. Abandoned by their owners, whose digestive systems, it seems, have suddenly and drastically shrunk in size, they are left at the mercy of those flying scavengers of the passerine variety. Most people would call them house sparrows. But whenever I'm there trying to have a feed, my preference is to refer to them as “little illegitimate children.” Or something along those lines, and of course using less family-friendly terminology. And these “feathered variants of kids born outside of wedlock” are very quick to partake in the opportunistic feeding frenzy that soon follows. And with that much food l…

Dave on Easy Listening Music

Listening to some kinds of Easy Listening music is a bit like being at the pinnacle of the vinegar stroke – you might be at the height of your enjoyment, but you may not want to tell your mates about it. I remember back in the 1990s a station known as i98 FM, which specialized in this particular kind of music. Now, when I talk about “Easy Listening” I'm talking about soft, dulcet popular music songs that your dad might put when serenading your mum on their centennial wedding anniversary, accompanied by some fine wine, candles and a bottle of blue pills. OK, I'm sorry I felt compelled to add that last bit in, especially for those who know what I'm on about. I just had to do it. The elves in my head told me it was either that, or a mild stroke. My call. My bad too. Anyway, the DJs employed by the station had an irritating predilection for speaking in a soft and friendly tone of voice that was meant to create a romantic atmosphere, but in truth forged an extraordinar…