So we were sat in Malt on Sunday night having a quiet pint. Or six. About 9 o’clock a whole bunch of theatrical types (talking VERY LOUDLY) busted in at once and started drinking. Next thing a (very drunk) man and woman came and sat right down at our table and said “How did you guys go?”.
Turns out these guys had just wrapped up working on the 48 Hours film making competition.
“Ah, we’re just here for a drink, we didn’t do the competition”.
“Oh, you’re normos”.
Bugger John Campbell, I want The Simpsons back on every night. I’m very sad (I know, I know), but I can just watch them over and over and over, and my favorite bits are always where Homer is being smacked in the head repeatedly. There’s acres written about the genius of The Simpsons, but here’s a couple of points you may not know. Writer George Mayer is often credited as the number one Simpsons writer – and he was hired on the strength of his fanzine “Army Man”, tagline: “America’s Only Magazine”.
You can read some of the material here. It’s odd, bizarre, and weird – and very un American. These short and sharp bits of weirdness strike me as the kind of stupid humor more likely to be found in, say, the ‘Top Tips’ page of Viz, and just goes to show the genius at work behind The Simpsons. And a big Homeresque ‘in yer face’ to those who say Americans can’t do teh funny. Here’s a taste:
A “LAKELY” STORY
My friend from Michigan says if you pushed all the Great Lakes together they’d be as big as the Mediterranean. I say, why bother?
Eighteen months ago, doctors at Mercy Hospital told Manny Hofstedter he would never walk again. Sadly, they were right. Hofstedter is still in a wheelchair. The good news is that his three doctors will receive the prestigious Lundberg Prize for Diagnostic Excellence.
You’ll like it if : You’re a fan of recent Brit TV comedy. Spaced’s Simon Pegg is Shaun, the 30ish slacker who, in a moment of inspiration, decides the pub is the best place to wait out a Zombie attack. His gaggle of mates includes Dawn from the Office, and Bernard from Black Books, plus Ed, who along with Ricky from Made must be one of the all time annoying assholes ever created for the screen. I quite like annoying assholes.
The best bit was : when Shaun and the crew run into another band of Zombie hunters – and there’s Tim from The Office! Tamsin from Black Books! George Dawes! Your man from The League Of Gentlemen! I just about shat I was so happy.
My mate Aidan came home for Xmas this year, and told me about a film he’d seen on the plane, Napoleon Dynamite. Aidan has crap taste in movies, so I ignored it, but I eventually got it out and watched it. You should too, I laughed like I hadn’t since I saw Wayne’s World for the first time.
“Why are you drinking 1% milk? Is it because you’re worried you’re fat?”
Hah hah. Hah hah hah hah. Sweet.
I sometimes photoshop footballers and submit them to the Guardian’s Football Unlimited website.
Ninth one down
I haven’t won anything yet though.
Straightjacket Fits were back in town for three nights. Along with Bailter Space, they were my pick of the Flying Nun bands. I caught the end of the Double Happys when I was about 14, when trawling though my best friend H’s brothers’ records. We loved it, until we left his Needles And Plastic EP on the turntable one sunny afternoon, warping it beyond recognition (of course, it’s really rare now. Sorry about that, chief!). Cue WWIII and all vinyl privileges revoked until further notice. But I digress.
SJF were it when I was at uni. If you wanted to show off to girls, and let everyone know you were achingly hip but still knew how to rock out, then you chucked on ‘She Speeds’ at the height of the party (or maybe ‘Slow Sad Love Song’). The bonus was that when you wanted to show you had a sensitive side, SJF were there with ‘Sparkle That Shines’ and later, ‘Down in splendor’. Youthful enthusiam is a wonderful thing, and I recall every week there was a band coming out that made you ring your mates and gush “Ohmygodohmygod they’re the best, best, best band in the world ever“, but SJF were The Kings. They walked the line between balls out rock and roll at concord-taking-off-volume for the early 90’s cardigan wearing set, and some fantastic jangle pop with aplomb.
Which is what I missed on Saturday Night. OK, Andrew Brough declined to do this reunion tour, but to me, SJF was always more than the Shayne Carter show. I really enjoyed the non – Blow songs on the night, with the highlights being Bad Note For a Heart (which I sang along to, eyes closed, in bliss. Glad no-one got a photo of that), and of course, She Speeds, which came complete with some extra little bars inserted to heighten audience tension before launching into the chorus. So nostalgia all around, especially as I went to Studio with some of the same friends who I went to the 1992ish Hillcrest SJF show with.
Who’s next? I’d love to see JPSE again.
I’m just this guy, you know?
I’ve tried blogging before, at the sadly neglected NZ Sports Review. I liked it, but it doesn’t appropriately reflect the length and breadth of my nerdish obsessions. (I’m quite obsessive).
I’m a 32 year old who lives in Auckland, New Zealand. Ten points for the first one to tell me where the title of my blog comes from.