This level of understanding as to what words, y’know, actually mean might be a clue as to why the ‘London Lite’ newspaper is given away free, as opposed to them asking you to part with the old hard-earned for it…
In the wreckage of the international economy, the flower of love* yet blooms.
*Or, at least, lust.
I’m not much of a fan of Frank Miller’s over-hard-boiled writing on ‘All-Star Batman and Robin The Boy Wonder’; it’s as if he’s writing Sin City with capes, and given the solid work he’s done on the character twice before, it’s rather disappointing.
I find its over-the-top-ness mildly amusing, though – which is almost a shame, as if I actively disliked it I’d be able to use the phrase ‘Wholly Crap Batman’, but as tempting as that is, I have to be honest and admit to more of a ‘meh’ reaction.
Anyway, it turns out that the latest issue (10) of the book has been pulled and pulped by DC Comics, because it featured Batgirl and some criminals sparring and swearing – with the black bars (in the speech balloons) which were there to obscure the naughty words not being dark enough to actually, um, obscure the naughty words.
Want to see the pages, and see Batgirl saying and being called rude things? Well then, brace for strong language and click here.
It’s mildly amusing, sure, but it does seem to raise some questions about the production process involved – why actually go to the trouble of having someone letter the words into the balloons, just to impose black bars over the top of the letters? Why not just put in a bar of appropriate length? Given that much comic lettering is done on computers anyway now (offhand, I think that this title’s computer-lettered by Comicraft, though I could be wrong), why not just save yourself the potential hassle? It’s all rather strange.
It’s hard to imagine that DC Comics are deliberately trying to stir up the publicity here, as they’re very conservative when it comes to the characters they own, and so I don’t see how this is anything other than a rather silly production error. Still, given that the book stars the comic character who’s this year’s biggest box office draw, you’d think a closer eye would be paid to such things, wouldn’t you?
Blue lips are, as you may know, one of the symptoms of hypothermia.
Probably better to buy your winter woolies from somewhere else, then.
Sean Connery’s new book, ‘Being A Scot’ there. Critics have suggested it’s disappointing in that it reveals fewer details about his career than they might have hoped.
Speaking purely for my puerile self, I find the subject of it a bit odd, given that he’s lived in the USA for the best part of three decades. And, it seems, I’m far from the most high-profile person to have commented on this.
I was thinking yesterday about context – or, perhaps more accurately, about how recently-lingering memories or experience can colour an opinion or reaction to things, as well as seeing items within their background.
Oddly enough, the thing that drove me to think about it was hearing a singer in a pub yesterday afternoon. The chap was called Dave Brooks (can’t find an online link for him, but he did a decent job) and he was singing the Eric Clapton song ‘Wonderful Tonight’. To be honest, it’s not really a song that does a lot for me, and I think this is partly because the first time I ever heard it fully was when it was being played at a friend’s house, and the father of the house was miming along with it and making as if he was singing it to his wife. It was kind of cheesy to my teenage eyes, but also a little bit unconvincing, as the husband was one of those people who (generalisation ahoy) was more concerned about his work than his wife, and as if to salve that he also claimed that the song ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings’ was about her. I suspect she might have preferred him to dedicate more time and attention, and fewer songs, to her, but there you go.
Anyway, that kind of left me feeling a bit ambivalent about the song, but yesterday in the pub, as Dave sang it, I noticed a chap who was – yes – singing along to the woman he was with, and as he did so, they held hands tightly and she was smiling broadly. Forget my own ambivalence, it was clear that she was really taken with him associating the song with her, and really liked it, so I had to admit to myself that whatever I might feel about the song, it’s pretty clear that for some people, it’s really rather romantic.
And this, in some strange no-I-dunno-how-either way, set me to thinking about how you have to see things in their context; ‘Wonderful Tonight’, when fake-sung by an inattentive husband, seems like a slightly nasty attempt to get Eric Clapton to do the hard work of being nice, whereas when mimed by another partner, seems like a cute, if slightly twee, gesture.
Thinking about context led me to muse how insane the media appear to have gone over the Republican Vice-Presidential candidate, Sarah Palin; for those of you who’ve been lucky enough to miss the ludicrous amount of coverage which has been spilling out of every news outlet over the past couple of weeks, during a speech at the rally at which she accepted the party’s nomination for V-P, Mrs Palin made the following joke:
Q: What’s the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull?
A: Lipstick.
Now, it’s an okay gag (though it has a touch of ambiguity that allows the possible interpretation that pit bulls wear lipstick), but to judge from the reaction of the crowd in the hall, and indeed the news media generally, you’d think it was, without doubt, the funniest joke ever. I think it’s fair to say that it isn’t – yes, humour’s subjective, but I’m sure you can think of better jokes – but to my mind, the fact that it’s received as the greatest rib-tickler of all time suggests that one has to look at the context; it stands out as a great joke because, let’s be honest, politics is a pretty unfunny business.
It could be argued that humour has little place within politics, but I’d disagree; the ability to take in something that’s been said or done and to articulate a response which highlights an irony or folly that lies at its heart would seem to show a ready intelligence, and surely that’s a trait to be wished for in anyone in our power? Instead, most political ‘jokes’ are pretty weak, and instead the mere fact that a politician has tried to make a joke seems to make the often-mediocre puns seem to be received as if they were the best of Wilde or Swift.
It is, I’d say, a question of context – the world of politics is so lacking in humour (possibly, I suddenly think, because much of it is either at the expense of others or self-deprecating, both angles which could be feared to make a politician ‘lose support’) that anything remotely resembling a jape is given far more treatment than it would deserve. Indeed, during the 1997 comedy show The Election Night Armistice, this point was proven by a number of comedians performing politicians’ jokes verbatim in a comedy club, and getting what could generously be referred to as a poor reception.
Oddly enough, this kind of thing applies not only to comments made, but also to Mrs Palin’s appearance; the Sun newspaper refers to her as a ‘beauty’, though as far as I know they’ve never said that about Tina Fey, to whom she bears more than a slight resemblance, though that could be to do with the old nonsense about funny women not being attractive (well, not attractive to men who dislike the idea of a quick-witted woman, but I think that reveals more about the men than anything else). In much the same way, the British press was in a right old state when Carla Sarkozy (nee Bruni) visited the UK the other month, like a bunch of sixth formers meeting the pretty new French teaching assistant or something. How much coverage did they give her when she released her second album, a year before marrying Monsieur Sarkozy? Not so much.
It’s all rather questionable and strange, and I suspect I’m not necessarily making any kind of blazingly new insight here (though I guess that implicitly I’m suggesting that you can get away with being dull-witted in politics, hardly a new idea) but it was just one of those moments when my brain made a little connection between a couple of apparently unrelated topics… and in the same vein as my chum Steve’s book, I realise that I can bring things full circle by pointing out that Carla Bruni, as referred to in the paragraph above, was once romantically involved with Eric Clapton, whose song started me thinking on this topic, as described way back at the start of this post.
Almost enough to make a person think I plan these posts out as I go along, isn’t it ? But then again, looked at in the context of this blog as a whole, I think we all know the truth…
… Actually, I think it might be you, but let’s not get into that now.
Anyway, just a quick note to apologise for not updating as much as usual this week – the paying job’s been hectic, and in the few hours between that and sleep I’ve been focussing on my entry for the Red Planet Prize, which has left me rather shy of both energy and blog-thoughts, but I’m hopeful that things should be back to what we here at John Soanes rather laughingly call ‘normal’ soon.
In the meantime, as ever, I refer you to the list of links to the right, and urge you to visit some of my virtual pals…
Whilst I’m sure precious few of you are holding your breath waiting for the oft-promised amendments to my website, just a quick note to say that – as you can see – changes really are afoot, so please tolerate the holding page while I shuffle the new stuff into place.
What’s coming, you may ask? Put briefly, more actual content and fewer pictures of me – which I think you’ll agree is definitely an improvement.
In the spirit of keeping you as updated as the website I will, of course, let you know when things are up and running.
Perhaps rather ungallantly, Phil Jupitus has said that in recent years, every time Madonna sings something ‘raunchy’, all he can hear is the phrase “Come and give your Auntie a kiss”.
For my part, I find it far more disturbing that so many of her videos and publicity shots seem to be rather emphatically … well, let’s say groinal. It might be that as the mother of several children, she’s quite intoxicated with the life-creating power of her womb, but in a strange parallel with Mr Jupitus, when I see recent pictures of Madonna, almost all of them make me hear words in the same vein as the following…
“Look at my crotch! Look at it!”
“I don’t care if you want to look or not! Look at it!”
“LOOK AT IT! And then, buy the album and tickets for the tour. Thanks.”
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