Not Entirely Accurate

Well, constant loathing will be sniffed out by even the most oblivious corporate bloodhounds eventually. Yesterday, I was "terminated" from my job via the most non-confrontational process conceivable. What is it with this time of year?

After my birthday until about mid-February, my mind seems to find a comfortable groove and inexplicably turns to mush. At around this time last year, my girlfriend at the time broke up with me. I'm trying to think of the points of difference between this event and that, but unfortunately, they resembled something all too similar - they both told me I was a "great guy"; that I'll find somewhere else; that my services were no longer required; that my performance was lacking in comparison to others and to take all my personal effects on the way out. It was a relief at any rate; it really was a rather depressing job - I always said that it was something that the opposite of me would thoroughly enjoy. Anyhow, I'll allow myself a brief holiday before I start my job hunting in earnest; oh - and I'll also be writing, writing, writing.

I bought (with my prior financial security) Eternal Kingdom by Cult of Luna, Lost to the Living by Daylight Dies and Hagnesta Hill (English Version) by Kent. The Kent record has yet to leave the CD player.

Crushtor's Guide to Children's TV: Press Gang

Crushtor.net's Guide to crap Awesome Children's Television
Sponsored by the Delightful DeeDee and Clever Kyle


Episode the First: Press Gang

The Brief:
A post-Thatcherite London in the cold grip of a recession, probably - children stare towards a bleak future with their hopes fading, their dreams shattering like so many beer bottles over Everton supporters' heads during a match at Old Trafford. A youngish entrepreneur extolling the virtue of pre-Blair Third Way economics sets up a growing journalistic concern for adolescents for some reason in conjunction with a local high school. Hot hot journalistic action ensues.

The All-Star Cast, I guess:
The only obvious star you recognize is Ab Fab's Saffy (Julia Sahwala) as the hard-boiled Editor that does mad cusses in her head and maintains a rigid honor-system swear jar. Co-starring is the cult classical Dexter Fletcher playing Spike, the mischievous seppo with "nothing to lose." There are other cast members, but most of them are boring, stereotypical and shithouse.

The Meat Inside:
Featuring a cast of nobodies, the fledgling Junior Gazette has merely five days until their first edition hits the presses sans front page story. In the pre-YouTube/MySpace/Twitter Blog/OMG RUPERT MURDOCH PWNS J00 age of media oversaturation, this means the kids have to actually use their wits and find one. A delinquent American exchange student or some shit reluctantly joins the fold after displaying a MacGuffin at the school dance and fates himself to expulsion or a burdgeoning Bob Woodward style journalism career. He opts for the latter and attempts to bludge his way out of working by making witty quips about induction forms. The power of the poon (The "pretty" pint-sized J. Jonah Jameson style Editor) compels him to fly right and walk straight, eventually, despite his often madcap and/or tryhard antics.

The Cheese:
Of course, with every children's TV show, the acting resides in a nightmarish Aristotelian world of either melodramatic Stanislavskian methodical perfection or absolute ratshit. "Spike", the American bastard, can't act for shit while Saffron aims and shoots for the 1951 Best Actress Oscar. The resident Del Boy who sells homework for a quid a pop dazzles while Spike's hapless partner in crime seems like the producer's kid who had to fill in at the last minute.

The Awesome Theme Song:
Naturally, with everything produced in the early 90s, crude samples and cheaply synthesized everything were de rigeur. Think Pink Floyd's "Money" covered by Wham! with the cash registers replaced by typewriters and you've pretty much got it down pat.

Should I Watch It:
Absolutely. This knockabout slice-of-life dramady (barely) can be overwrought, underacted and cringeworthy at times, but it sure beats the shit out of T-Bag and the Sunstones of Montezuma, the microbudget pantomime wankery now looking painfully obvious in hindsight. Or first-sight, for that matter. You can also "lol" at the typewriters via Facebook. That'll learn those cheapskates for not forking out for a 286 with Windows 2.0 on it.

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In actual news, I spied a woman at work that looks exactly like Tweety from Merrie Melodies. No shit, she actually looks like Tweety. Its fucking bizzare.

Would If I Could

I'm wearing a grin on my face at the moment in recognition of accomplishing more for the music industry in the last 15 minutes than I have for anything meaningful for the last three months. Then again, the last three months seem like a discrete year-in-itself; I cannot believe how long this year has seemed to have dragged on. I'm having difficulty remembering things I've done, since the bright flashes of greatness have all but receded into a miasma of a self painted grey...

I have to say, my interview with Sean Kinney of Alice in Chains has to be my crowning journalistic achievement thus far. So rich in detail and opinion, it seemed as if he could tell stories forever and have an audience enraptured in his voice for just as long. Hopefully I'll still have outlet to write for once the new year comes, though.