Tuesday, August 22, 2006


Watching Slavoj Zizek on "The Perverts Guide to Cinema", a couple of things became immediately apparent to me:

(a) He might want to consider some form of speech therapy, or, at least, try talking from behind a hanky...

and (b) He don't 'alf talk some fucking bollocks. Fair doings to the bloke if he can get paid for talking a load of disembodied/disconnected nonsense over random film-clips under the pretence of revealing hidden 'truths' (fuck, chuck me a tenner and I'd do it...), 'scuse me if I get this wrong, 'cos I'm just a, y'know, working-class thickie who ain't never not been to no school nor nuffink, but, yeah, I get that Zizek's brand of, whatdyacallit, Idiosyncratic Materialism is deliberately designed to emphasise in-built contradictions, dislinearities and dialectic crevasses in contempo writings on neo-pop cultural-philosophy, but it would've been a helluva lot funnier if they'd just randomly hired some wino or crack-addle'd fuckhead to dribble meta-'significant' inanities over some soft arthouse porn-clips...I think it would have been just as successful at highlighting/touching on elements of The Symbolic Real, The Imaginary Real and the Really, Really, Really Real... as well as giving the viewer a few laffs (that's real laffs as opposed to symbolic laffs). And, as film critics go, he's no Jonathan Ross either. Stick to the day job, Slavoj...whatever the fuck it is.

Rearrange the following phrase: "Old Rope Money For".


Many thanks to A Man Like Cloudboy for this muuurk-encrusted beaut:

Currently providing the ideal soundtrack for a totally unpleasant piece of prose fiction I'm trying (but failing) to get out the door this week for an upcoming anthology...

Cheers, man!