All Right on the Night

In the words of that creepy kid from Poltergeist: 'I'm baaaa-aaaaaack!' As mentioned in my previous post, I have been busy with presentations for a subject I'm studying, and as I also said, these presentations were to be delivered via a virtual classroom. Look, technology, when it is working, is fantastic. When it is not working, there is a shitstorm to rival the aftermath of the time the sadistic zookeeper put laxettes in the elephants' food.

Before anyone says anything, I tested my equipment via the 'test' link I was sent. Everything went fine. I was able to speak to and look at the IT lady, and she was able to look at and see me. Everything was hunky dory. However, Wednesday morning, pretty much nothing worked. My new headset, blue-toothed to the computer, thought it would get boy germs from the Adobe classroom. I'm aware this isn't IT technical language, but in my Luddite mind, it is the best way I can explain things. Also, my webcam shit itself on the weekend, thus necessitating the purchase of another one. So, I could see the others; they could see me, but nobody could hear me speak.  Five meltdowns later, I ended up setting up at my son's laptop, installing the classroom software there, and emailing my visual aides for the presentation from my PC so I could access them on son's laptop to upload to a special screen in the classroom. Sounds complicated? That's because it is. Then, as I was being put in the 'presenter' area of the screen, I went to upload my first picture/slide, and absolutely nothing happened. I couldn't find the damned things, even though I know I downloaded them. The trainer told me to email them to him, and the person slotted after me to present had to step up to the plate, and I'm sure the poor thing wasn't quite ready in her mind yet.

Finally - FINALLY! - it was my turn to present. The first words out of my mouth, before I told them the objective of my presentation, before I did 'housekeeping', before I did a 'Welcome to Country', were to the effect: 'Thank you for  your patience with me, everybody. I apologise for all the interruptions. I have apparently angered the Gods of Technology, and when this presentation has ended, I will have to make a sacrifice to appease them. Unfortunately, I can't find a virgin because I live in Muswellbrook, but I will now show you how to use an apostrophe.' The presentation was very well received: everybody loves the one about the difference between the butler 'calling the guests' names' and 'calling the guests names'.

Like they say in showbiz: "It'll be all right on the night". And it was.  Today was a far smoother day, insofar as technology is concerned. Today's topic was proper comma usage. I focused on the Oxford comma, and the vocative comma. Regarding the latter, "Let's eat, Grandma!" juxtaposed against "Let's eat Grandma!" proved, as always, a winner.

But don't think today started well. I was scrolling through Twitter, and read this most awful attempt at erotic fiction since Fifty Shades of Unreadable Crap. This guy was upset at his parents' reaction to his execrable crud. I've been trying to copy and paste the actual passage, but not having much luck. Anyway, I've got a copy here and I've added a blue circle to save you reading too much shit:

This is why feeble metaphors for sexual organs, or for any act involving sexual organs, are really not a good idea. Reading this made my eyeballs bleed, and it almost put me off my presentation today. I do note the author forgot the possessive apostrophe when referring to the head of the turtle, so maybe I could use this when next presenting on apostrophes?

Multiliteracies Leads To Multibreakdowns

Golly gosh, hell and fishes; jinkies, and run me over with a giant toaster on wheels; I haven't written here in a week. What have I been doing that's kept me from here? Well, official author-wise, I have had to submit a PDF of my manuscript for Howling on a Concrete Moon for removal of the previous publisher's logo before uploading to Ingram Sparks. Turns out word document not suitable. I'm not good with technology, to me a computer is a glorified typewriter,  and this is doing in my head.

Also, I have been trying to study. The subject involves what's known as 'multiliteracies', and my head is spinning like that of a demonically possessed adolescent. I have no crucifix here to defile - I'm not sure who took the crucifixes when my siblings and I were clearing out our parents' home. I did have one hanging in my old bedroom. Our Lord had been painted with that glow-in-the-dark stuff. I recall so many religious figurines from my childhood were treated thus. I suppose it was to give it a glow of holiness, but they looked like they'd been caught in nuclear fallout. However, I do feel in danger of barfing green slime everywhere at the moment.

I also had to write two presentations. I'm giving them via a virtual classroom, and I prefer a physical audience. Anyway, one presentation is on apostrophe usage; the other is on comma placement. Naturally, I will wax most lyrical about the Oxford comma. (I am aware I am the only person you know of who gets loquacious and vivacious about Oxford commas, so stop rolling your eyes).

Another achievement: a social media blocking from a conservative politician - our local one, this time. This is my third blocking from such a creature in about a month. What puzzles me about it is I'm not overly abusive, unless telling a politician to get in the bin and pull the lid over himself is abusive. It's not the nicest thing to tell someone, but gosh, there are so many far worse insults out there. Someone told me I was not giving him the right to express his opinion, but that's not true at all. He can express his opinion, and I can give MY opinion on HIS opinion, particularly if his opinion ruptures the time/space continuum with its sheer stupidity and offensiveness.

So, I guess I've been busy with study and not taking much notice of the news. What's the point? It's all about frigging Covid-19. Oh, and Trump making a horses arse of himself drinking water with one hand holding the glass (before you @ me for the punctuation, adjectival phrases like 'horses arse' and 'big girls blouse' don't have possessive apostrophe, and I daresay that's because the actual backside of the horse is not the object of the sentence). He wants to prove he's not physically ill or incapacitated. Trump, Franklin D Roosevelt ran the States at one stage, too, and he was a person with disability, so stop being ableist. Maybe Trump does not have a physical disability, but oh my giddy aunt, there are multitudinous bats flying about the belfry!

The other weird thing I read this morning is that, according to Spotify, the most listened-to artists during the act of making love are Beyonce and Rihanna. To this I say: Yikes and Yuck! I could not imagine a greater libido crusher than Single Ladies with its inane, 'If you liked it/Then you should have put a ring on it...'. Hey, Beyonce! Put a ring on this! (*Flips the bird*). Oh wait, yes I can. Rihanna's Umbrella is a seriously putrid piece of melodic murkiness. It's just so shit. 'Under my umbrella-ella-ella-ella, eh-eh-eh'. Those last three syllables sound like a reversing truck.

Well, I'm off to do some work on my assignment now.

Grease Grrrrrr

I'm admin of a few Facebook groups, one of which is dedicated to Seventies memories. In the days of constant cancelling or removal of certain works from streaming services, there have been a few posts about shows from the 1970s that would not make it past the table at the production meeting these days.  Being admin means I (along with other four or so admin of this group) will receive a notification when a post is reported. I am sure you can see where I'm going with this, so I will tell you what post was reported: it was along the lines that Grease should be removed because it is racist.

Okay, Snowflake, let's back it up a little. How is Grease racist? Silly frippery? Sure. Dumb? Yeah. But racist? C'mon!

When challenged to explain the racism in the movie, the original poster (OP) stated there is not one person of colour in the movie. The responses to this were to the effect that the movie is set in a 1950s high school, so it would make no sense to have actors of colour in the cast.  The OP stuck steadfastly to his presumably all-ethnicity encompassing guns about the racism in the casting of this movie.

Listen, everyone. The movie is as dumb as dirt, and whilst guilty of trying to pass off cocaine-ravaged thirty-somethings as seventeen-year-olds, it is certainly not guilty of racism.  But someone complained, and I said I'm keeping this post because it's a Seventies movie, but if comments spiral into personal attacks, then out it goes. So the person who complained griped at me for keeping it.

People, the world is nuts at the moment with a fucking fast-travelling bug and some of you are reading racism into a movie that has been cast with a view to the context of the setting (even though the actors are poster children for menopause)? People are complaining that I haven't bothered removing the post from a Facebook group?

Again, the world is hooning on its way to Hell in a shitbox without a muffler (probably borrowed from that deadshit who revs his engine in my street occasionally), and again chucking empty UDL cans out the window.  Speaking of the deadshit revving his car over and over and over, thus destroying the crepuscular serenity, this is a message for you, you solipsistic wad of gusset froth: We get it; your dick's small.

To deal with it, I had to go on You Tube and watch live footage of Grand Funk Railroad performing We're An American Band. Not only does the song kick every kind of arse going, Mark Farner is shirtless and glistening. This is why I looked at the live footage instead of finding a studio recorded clip. I know my comment here can be construed as sexist, and if you want to @ me, I guess you can, but be warned: I'm half-past caring.

Got some homework to do, so ciao for now.

Gone with the Wind Up & Cancel Culture

I'm sure the Devil needs no mouthpiece, but I'm going to play Devil's Advocate here, and ask: when do we stop with the censorship of art? Censorship manifests in different ways, but they are all just roundabout ways of telling a grown man he can't eat a steak because a toddler might choke on it.

Art also takes different forms. It can be literature, sculpture, painting, or cinematic. Whether a member of the public likes or doesn't care for each form is purely subjective. Some subject matter is offensive, no doubt about it. But the question is: do we ban it? HBO have banned, and are apparently reinstating, Gone with the Wind from and now to its streaming service. The reasoning is the film's offensive portrayal of people of colour. Yes, the depictions are racist. It is set in a very racist society. I'm wondering does nobody these days ever contextualise?

Netflix have removed Little Britain and some of Chris Lilley's series from their platform because some characters are portrayed with the white actors in blackface type makeup. I am well aware why blackface is problematic, but is banning a show the answer? I don't watch Little Britain because I consider it to be about as funny as a fart in an elevator. I didn't mind some of Lilley's earlier shows, and thought Mr G hysterical. Lilley is very good at characterisations, and I see him as a satirist taking aim at preconceived notions of sectors of society. I always saw Jonah as a disruptive kid more than a 'Poly', as he was often called. That spoiled school girl he played - Ja'mie - made me laugh like a drain because I've known entitled, stuck-up kids just like her. I could not get into Angry Boys or Lunatics; indeed, those shows made me wonder had he lost momentum. But ,whilst acknowledging the foul and offensive history of blackface comedy itself, is banning a show because a satirist puts on makeup to portray a character going to resolve the problem of racism? Is banning a movie that depicted a racist antebellum society going to magically fix the problem of racism in our modern society?

Elmer Fudd is now being depicted with a scythe instead of that awkward blunderbuss looking thing he used to tote. ('Be vewy, vewy quiet. We're going harvesting wabbits!'). I'm surprised nobody's banned Pepe Le Pew yet. I'll be honest and admit I cannot stand this sleazy stinking lothario. He's the Harvey Weinstein of the weasel family. He can't tell it's not another skunk, but a cat with paint, and he continues to grope the poor creature when she is clearly trying to get away. That being said, I wouldn't ban the cartoon, but make it clear to my children (who don't watch him, anyway), this is not the way to interact in the real world. I think my kids would understand this because they know a coyote can outrun a roadrunner any day. Hey, what about Speedy Gonzales and his mates, including those two crows always trying to eat him? Do these characters buy into racist stereotypes?

Last night I tuned into Stan and watched, for the first time in my life, an episode of Mad Men. True dinks, I've never seen it in my life. It was the pilot episode, and I found some of the sexist attitudes very offensive. I wanted to reach through the screen and slap the judgemental doctor prescribing contractive pills to a single woman. I wanted to punch the groin of the advertising gronk making sleazy remarks to the new girl on her first day. I wanted to give a colossal wedgie to the dickwad who stormed out of a meeting because he didn't like the way the prospective female client spoke to him - it wasn't want she said, but that she was a woman with which he took umbrage. Other minority groups like Jews and African Americans were regarded with derision. As you can see, these are really offensive characters, to say nothing of the perpetual fug of cigarette smoke clouding every scene. I hate sexism, and I can't bear cigarettes. Should Stan pull the series because some people might think being sexist, anti-Semitic, racist, and stinking up the planet with ciggies is a good and acceptable idea? Or should Stan keep the series streaming, content in the knowledge that the populace have the common sense to know that the series is set in a different time, and by and large mostly know how to contextualise?

Some of these banners are probably the same pussy-arses who would have Huckleberry Finn and To Kill A Mockingbird banned on the basis a character uses the N-word. People these days are well aware this word is monstrously offensive, and therefore wouldn't dream of saying it. However, these novels are set in a time when the word was used, mainly by ignorant types. And if these wannabe-banners took the time to read each book, they would realise there are wonderful and important lessons to be learned from them. Mark Twain was very much against slavery, and he uses Huckleberry's realisation that the ownership of another human being is wrong to make his own views known to the reader. For me, the most powerful scene in that novel is when Huck apologises to Jim after pulling a mean prank, and reflects that this is the first time he has ever apologised to a person of colour (phrase mine, not Twain's) but he doesn't regret it, and furthermore, would do it again.

Here's an idea: if a movie or television show has portrayals or language that are culturally offensive, how about a warning before the show, with a disclaimer that the setting warrants this material in the interests of historical accuracy and integrity? If people don't want to watch it, they don't have to. If people do want to watch it, let them decide for themselves if they are offended - and this includes the sector portrayed in the work.

Can we please stop just banning things willy-nilly?

Ain't it Sweet? No

Whilst driving around a few days ago, I heard on the radio a snippet about grants being made available for home renovations. Well, I got kind of excited about this because my bathroom is a shabby mess in dire need of a makeover. My dining and living rooms need to be gyprocked and painted, and my  kitchen needs a splashback. My laundry needs tiles. The bedrooms need built-ins (well, they don't really need built-ins, but built-ins would be nice). Fast forward a few days when the catch has been landed: this grant is only available to people seeking to outlay $150,000.00 on renovations. I don't need work in that vicinity, and I am not going to re-mortgage my home just to possibly access $25,000.00 in grants to fix it up. If I had a lazy $150,000.00 for renovation expenditure, I'm not about to worry about jumping through the Government's hoops for what really amounts to a mere piss in the ocean in the renos budget. This grant helps nobody except those already rather well-off, and if you've got $150,000.00 to chuck at renovations, then it is my submission that you are rather well-off. Of course, our Liberal government are great friends to the already rather well-off, so maybe instead of giving money to those already rather well-off, perhaps put the coin set aside for this ill-conceived scheme towards public housing?

Just when I thought 2020 couldn't get worse, today news came through Steve Priest has died. If you don't know who he was, think about the opening spoken dialogue in the old Sweet song Ballroom Blitz. First line is Brian Connolly asking, 'Are you ready, Steve?', to which a man would reply, 'Uh-huh'.  Remember now? Well, that's Steve. That song was on the first album I ever bought with my very own pocket money:

Steve is the member to the far left. These guys were amazing musicians and vocalists, with four-part  harmonies giving Queen a run for their money. They did some bubble gum in the early Seventies, but were also prevalent in the glam rock movement, and anybody who knows me well knows I likes me a bit of glam. As well as this, I bought their 1976 album Give Us A Wink - the song Lies in  Your Eyes really showcased their talents. RIP Steve, reunited with your bandmates Mick (far right) and Brian (blonde gentleman). Eat a dick, 2020.

I will share another photo of some people who make me think it is time for the cosmos to hoik another asteroid at our planet;

Superior jeans, hey? Too bad we can't see them under the white sheet. What are superior jeans? I'm wearing Levis at the moment. Are those the ones? Anyway, have a look at this picture and you will see what can happen when inbred unwashed have intercourse with and impregnate their own sisters.

...Chucking UDL Cans out the Window on the Way...

Some of the things I occasionally do when I'm having a bad day:

1. Pour a glass of wine.

2. Listen to music - occasionally combined with (1) above. My main go-to for cheering-up or rage-dissipation is The Beach Boys. It's very difficult to be sad or in a bad mood when you listen to them.

3. Yoga.

4. Meditation exercises.

5. Rant to a girlfriend.

6. Rant to my husband.

What I wouldn't dream of doing if I'm having a bad day:

Kick the legs of a teenager (whose hands are behind his back) out from under him so he falls, and with hands bound has no means of breaking fall, and thus lands on his face. This is why I'm calling bullshit on the NSW Police Commish's claim that the police officer who did that to the young man who supposedly mouthed off at him was having a bad day. Yes, being sworn at is offensive. It doesn't warrant those actions. If a cop can't handle a mouthy teenager, then get out of the profession. High school teachers have to put up with obnoxious teenagers all the time, and to my knowledge, this isn't a recommended method of handling flaming youth.

It's hard not to have bad days lately. The world appears to be going to Hell in a souped-up Torana without a muffler, and chucking empty UDL cans and lit cigarette butts out the window on the way. It's impossible to look at a newsfeed without inwardly groaning; What now? The orange Bunker Boy, after protesters are tear-gassed to facilitate their removal from his path, has to have a photo op in front of a church, holding a Bible. This is as sickening as a platter of pus sandwiches. And am I alone in having concerns for the welfare of his wife? I have never seen a woman looking as uptight and wishing she was elsewhere as Melania Trump looks in almost every piece of footage lately. What's the bet that as soon as his presidency has expired (hopefully this November), she files for divorce? And who'd blame her? She's married to the most woefully underqualified imbecile ever to hold that office. He's a man who makes Dubya looks like a genius.

On the bright side, I've been doing some study and learning about quantitative literacy, and I'm rather enjoying it.

Think I'll tune into Stan now. I've been watching I'm Dying Up Here, which is a very entertaining series about people trying to crack the comedy scene in the early Seventies. Despite the subject matter, it is not a comedy. The characters and scripts are excellent, and I'd like to see some clever scriptwriting, rather than Trump's infantile Tweet-writing, just now.