Henri, The Existential Cat

Brilliant.



JB.

Great Reads: Fear & Loathing On The Campaign Trail '72

This book charts the election year of 1972 here in the good old US of A. From the democratic primaries to the presidential campaign everything is documented. Sounds like an absolute yawn-fest I'm sure. However, when told through the eyes of Hunter S. Thompson, this book becomes something altogether more interesting.

For any fans of that other "Fear and Loathing" book, let me start by saying that you should not go into this book expecting to read about continual psychoactive mayhem. There's some of that, of course, as Thompson seems unable to function unless engaging in at least medium-level debauchery, and Christ knows you'd probably need to be off your tits to deal with some of these people, however the one thing that often gets lost in the Hunter S. Thompson legend is what a humanitarian the man was. That and the fact that he was an absolutely brilliant writer.

What makes this book such a fascinating read is that it is U.S. politics from the outsider looking in. The average, rational-thinking man wondering what on earth the circus before him all means. Every page oozes empathy and a, some would argue, deluded hope for the people. As the ill-fated John McGovern pits his wits against king reptile Richard Nixon, it becomes a classic tale of good vs evil which is hard not to get caught up in. Now, at the time of printing this might have been considered propaganda as the book obviously favours McGovern, however in light of what became of Richard Nixon's presidency, most of it is instead eerily prophetic.

It also goes to show what an absolutely monumental, confusing, and thoroughly thankless task it is for a man of any shred of integrity to go against the machine. By the time you've shook all the hands, given all the speeches, dusted off the slander, climbed every mountain only to get pounded by some slabbering, vacuous non-human in front of the world's media, it's enough to wonder why anyone ever bothers at all.

If you've got any interest at all in what goes on behind the scenes during that time those odd, sharp-suited, shiny-toothed bellends are all over your TV screen (i.e. right now) then I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

"If the current polls are reliable, Nixon will be re-elected by a huge majority of Americans who feel he is not only more honest and trustworthy than George McGovern, but also more likely to end the war in Vietnam. The polls also indicate that Nixon will get a comfortable majority of the youth vote. And that he might carry all 50 states. This may be the year when we finally come face to face with ourselves; finally just lay back and say it - that we are really just a nation of 220 million used car salesman with all the money we need to buy guns, and no qualms at all about killing anybody in the world who makes us feel uncomfortable. The tragedy of all this is that George McGovern, for all his mistakes, understands what a fantastic monument to all the best instincts of the human race this country might have been if we could have kept it out of the hands of greedy little hustlers like Richard Nixon. McGovern made some stupid mistakes, but in context they seem almost frivolous compared to the things Richard Nixon does every day of his life, on purpose. Jesus! Where will it end? How low do you have to stoop in this country to become president?"

(Excerpt from "September, 1972")

Peace and love,

JB.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Anyone who grew up in England in the 80's/90's must remember this tune. I can remember going to our local cinema in Brentwood (a giant two-screen megaplex) and once you saw this state-of-the art ad coming your way, you knew the film was imminent and you were about to be swept away. Few things, odd as it might sound, make me more nostalgic.

JB.

Hard Drive Hell

Friends, let me tell you something...a technophile I am certainly not. More often than not I tolerate technology as the natural advancement of our species continues but honestly my interest goes no further than that. I couldn't care less about the latest ipod, nanobot, natural wind fueled solar paneled toaster, whatever they bring out next. It's just not something that interests me, and probably never will. While I admit it's nice having all my music in one cigarette box sized place, I'm still a sucker for sitting down and actually putting on an album, allowing it to play from start to finish. I'm old fashioned, I know.

All of this cute nostalgia seeking, however, is well and good unless one plans on entering the world of indie film-making, where my Neo-Luddism (real thing, look it up) is as useless as a chocolate fireguard.

In my naivety, I somehow assumed that shooting things in digital would be an altogether easier, cost-effective, less time consuming process than shooting on, say, film. Indeed I have no doubt that for most people, as in people who actually have a grasp of the technology, it is precisely all of those things - I'm sure for them the process is simple as a soft fart on a warm summer's eve. However for simpleton's like myself, it is a bloody nightmare.

My problem of late has been hard-drives. You see, if planning on shooting anything of substance, a solid external hard drive is essential. This I learned very quickly after my fisher-price, bargin basement model crashed a month after filming, subsequently wiping all of my precious raw footage. To say I was a little disheartened would be understating it a bit. In fact, it was at that precise moment when I questioned whether God wanted me not only to not succeed as a film-maker, but to actually die instead. Thankfully, in true "Trainspotting" style, I chose life and as luck would have it my DP had everything backed up on his hard drive. Bullet dodged.

However, did I learn my lesson and invest in a new hard drive? Did I balls. I decided to plough on with my geriatric machine in the vein hope that all would somehow be well. (What was it that's said about the definition of insanity being 'doing the same thing twice and expecting different results'?.....I digress.) Remarkably, for a while at least, everything was well. Until yesterday when finally it crashed. And I mean crashed. A spectacular meltdown sending all of my hard-earned work into cyber oblivion and leaving me once again with a bible in one hand, a gun in the other.

Seriously, I don't know, nor would I ever care to know, the difference between at 7200 bit-rate firewire device and 48 tagentagen double piledriver foreskin USB drive. I didn't sign up for this. All I want to do is make films, make some people laugh, and go home and watch Lord of The Rings. It's not much to ask, is it? The last thing I consider "fun" is sitting, as I am right this second, watching the hours tick by as my destroyed files restore themselves on my new (THIRD) hard drive. Last count - 3 hours to go. However, in this day and age, it is apparently essential to doing things on the cheap so I have had to sit through many embarrassing sessions with people far more savvy than myself, gawping out things like "What's a codec?" to some very worried faces. It has certainly been the least appealing part of the film-making process but one I am at labour to learn. I'm sure all of this shite will be useful at some point in the future. Yet I can't help but hope I get successful enough that people will handle all of this for me and I can go back to dicking around and telling mildly amusing stories. What a pleasant dream.

I suppose times like this call for an inspirational quote from someone far more successful than yourself. In the absence of said quote however, I will settle for something funny:

"Weaseling out of things is an important life lesson. It's what separates us from the animals....except the weasel."

Homer J. Simpson

Must...plough...on......career in the arts worth striving for....even though destitute and on verge of breakdown.....technology is not the enemy....technology is not the enemy.....technology is not......the enemy....

Peace.

JB.

P.S - My newest hard drive looks alarmingly similar to HAL9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey. I can only hope it isn't reading this and tries to kill me in the night. Fingers crossed.

Monkey Madness

A quite brilliant video. I'm still trying to work out how you'd do something like this. Homework for the day.

JB.

Dialogue of the Day

Marwood: What about what's-his-name?

Withnail: What about him?

Marwood: Why don't you give him a call?

Withnail: What for?

Marwood: To ask him about his house.

Withnail: You want me to call what's-his-name and ask him about his house?

Marwood: Why not?

Withnail: All right. What's his number?

Marwood: I've no idea. I've never met him

Withnail: Well, neither have I. What the fuck are you talking about?

--From "Withnail & I" (1986)

Find Some Good Speakers...

...and play this shit loud. That is all.

JB.

Heroes to Humanity: #405 - Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards

I tell you, few things got me more excited, as a young nipper, than watching the Winter Olympics. The reason for that was simply one man. A god among men. A bird, floating effortlessly through the heavens, kissing the wings of an angel before gliding back to earth among us mortals. That man was, of course, Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards...

"Bo Selecta!"

Has there ever been a more English of heroes? With his movie star looks and sly wit, he had it all. I mean, when he wasn't doing death-defying dives off of enormous ramps, the man was a plasterer! How perfect is that?

Growing up in the West Country of England, god knows how Eddie got into Ski-Jumping as a professional pastime. Honestly, just dwell on that for a minute...a country with no snowy mountains. None. Couple that with the fact that the man was supposedly afraid of heights and you must wonder...how???

Anyway, got into it he did and eventually became Britain's representative in the 1988 Winter Olympics. In actual fact, Eddie can claim to be the only Ski Jumper our fair shores have EVER produced. Ever. Another miracle to hang his hat on.

I remember during the '88 Olympics, he was my undisputed hero. Every jump seemed to be walking the fine line between landing safely and decapitating himself. Oh, the excitement. Of course, our Ed came last in every event he entered, but he took that very British trait of dignified failure to entirely new levels and captured the nation's heart in the process. The man is simply a legend. I believe this interview excerpt sums our hero up nicely:

Eddie: "They said I was afraid of heights, but I was doing 60 jumps a day then. Is that the behaviour of someone who's scared of heights?"

Interviewer: "Well, were you afraid of jumping?"

Eddie: "Yeah, of course."

God bless that man.

JB.

Quote of The Day

"All governments are lying cocksuckers"

--Bill Hicks

Wildebeests

A bit of Billy to brighten up this Monday morning. Marvelous.

JB.