Never seen it, cannae comment.

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

From Olive to Marty With Love . . .

Hat tip to Hak Mao

"Blinkmummy Went To London, And All She Brought Me Back Was Some Lousy Left Communist Literature."

Scanning the site meter the other night, I noticed that someone had accessed the blog via Technorati, after typing International Communist Current into the Technorati search engine.

Curious to see who else blogs about Planet ICC, I found this blog post from a Singaporean tourist who, visiting London in the aftermath of the terrorist bombings in London on July 7th, bought a copy of the ICC journal, 'World Revolution', at Camden Market, and decided to mention the event in her blog. Being of a skeptical bent, I was a tad suspicious that it may be a spoof and/or pisstake of the ICC - it happens only because they are such a threat to global capital, and because they represent the genuine revolutionary current amongst the proletariat - but this quote below was a dead giveaway to the authenticity of the piece:

" . . . I saw an elderly couple selling this just outside the station. I wanted to take a picture with the old lady but she refused. This mild-mannered lady then asked me to buy a copy of the paper from her for 75p. She's from the International Communist Current. Then, 少爷 and I decided that we should have beer, while I read the paper. I was trying to make sense of who's exploiting who in this encounter."

The insistence on anonymity on the part of the ICC members; the blog's physical description of those ICC members (they look like everyone's favourite aunt and uncle) and that final scene in the pub when you are drinking a beer, trying to plow through the inpenetrable jargon of ICC-speak and, being a wee bit embarrassed, mumbling to your drinking companion sitting next to you: "Maybe if I get drunk enough, I'll be able to understand it better . . ." (but he's not listening to you, 'cos he's giving himself a headache trying to understand a footnote in the latest issue of Aufheben) all point to the authenticity of the encounter.

I await with baited breath the future two page write up in the ICC press of this historic meeting of Left Communism and the proletariat of the Asian Tiger economies. I'll even get the beers in so that I can properly understand the article.

"Fascinating by five past ten."

Though I'm loathe to admit it - what with my long held opinion that he is a humourless git - Andy Kershaw is probably right when he writes of the inaugural John Peel Day being something that Peel himself would have found "maudlin" and "nostalgia-driven" but sod it, even if only for this one year, we can all indulge in a Peel fest.

Drum roll:

Nice interview in the Telegraph with John Peel's widow, Sheila Ravenscroft, on the complexity of a man most of us thought of as that genial bloke off the radio who had a tendency to play ungenial records.

Today's Guardian carries a piece by Ryan Gilbey about the process undertook to piece together a biography of Peel from fragments of diaries, letters and reminiscinces.

Alister tips us the wink about The Perfumed Garden, an audio blog dedicated to posting Peel Sessions gratis on the net (. . . though truth be known I've not been too impressed so far with the selections); and The Scottish Patient who, as mark of respect to Mr Peel, offers up a wee mini compilation of mp3 tracks that have sprang forth from that place in the East.

But what about a Flowers track, Kev? 'After Dark' should have been included.;-)

Post-It Note From America

I hate it when it's dreich outside. When I get soaking wet, my hair seems to take on a life of its own.

Going Back, Way Back . . . When I Still Used To Mention Politics On This Blog

A meme snaffled from Bertram Online

The title of my twenty-third post was They Are Reprinting Oz Articles In The Pages Of The Socialist Standard, Man!.

The fifth sentence was:

Christ, there was no fifth sentence. There was me kidding myself on that my blog posts of yesteryear were super-sized, and it transpires that I was doing the old 'link to an article', with a wee garnish of self-deprecation on the side, shennanigans even back then. I need to write more blogs under the influence. Everyone says I'm too gobby when I've been scoffing the winegums.

Directions:

• Go into your archive.
• Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
• Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).

Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

I'm passing this meme on to Normski. He can either do his 23rd post ever, or his 23rd post of the day. I'm not fussed. ;-)

A Warm Glow

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant; that musical moment when you discover a new song and you just have to listen to it over and over and over again.

Step forward that song . . . The Fall's Midnight Aspen, off the new album. Absolutely no idea what Smiffy is havering on about, but the music is pure dead class. I told you Hak. It's the tunes everytime.

"Fred, can I borrow forty quid? A man of my stature should be using typepad."

"Marx was definitely a blogger. The Paris manuscripts read just like a blog. (NIck Dyer-Witherford pointed this out to me once). Hegel was a newspaper editor for a while -- back when newspapers were more like blogs than newspapers. Adorno reviewed all the music performed in Frankfurt for who ever would publish him. I think its only graduate school that produces this odd notion that there is some infinite chasm between occasional writing and Big Theory. Even Kant wrote his 'enlightenment' essay for a newspaper competiton.

The Kant thing was pretty damn funny, tho'..."

Hat tip to Fred Stuart.

"For those of you watching in black and white, Hilda is resting behind Dot."

It's either genius or bilge, but who cares? I'm cancelling the subscription to BBC America, and going in search of a secondhand copy of Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter.

"Spotty exterior hides a spotty interior."

Fall Quote Generator

Out On A Limb

Apparently I'm the only blogger out there who has Gordon Legge listed as one of their favourite authors on their blogger profile. That either qualifies me as a sad bastard (another four or five authors listed by me also draw a blank), or you tasteless sods out there are missing out.

What do you think?

Rest in Peace, You Old Scrote

Sad news of the death of a comic genuis.

Big Black Smoke

". . . which I actually wrote for my daughter's punk band, and they turned it down"

Everyone's banging on about Bob Dylan at the moment, 'cos of the Scorcese documentary the other night but the best songwriter of the sixties, bar none, is interviewed in today's Guardian on the subject of his new album, moving back to London and dealing with ungrateful children.