By Roy Mathur, on 2021-09-05, at 23:34:56--00:37:03 GMT, for Captain Roy's Rocket Radio Show, Listen
God help me, nautical crud again.
I've been feeling like poop. My digestion, teeth, bills, and so many other issues, I 'can't even begin to... so why bother?
Let's slump into a nice deckchair on this warm tropical dessert island with a nice cool drink in hand.
A crazy moon crashing disaster flick by Roland Emmerich starring Halle Berry is on it's way and I'm in! I miss those big popcorn sci-fi movies.
Funny enough, I was just teasing Lionsgate for becoming a house of schlock and then this trailer drops.
I have been enjoying this BBC thriller about murder on-board a nuclear submarine.
It's atmospheric and tense, and claustrophobic, though I can't help comparing it to Mr. Monk Is Underwater (2008); an episode of the Monk comedy show, which I love. That also is about a stressed out detective, sleuthing it out on a sub.
Ahhh...the grand old tradition of the kung fu Western... problematic here we go again? Actually, no, thank the gods it's a fighting action drama about a guy from China, looking for his sister in old San Francisco.
A tangent on the dialogue. I don't care how artfully the transition to English is---Exactly like the method used in The Hunt for Red October---though the characters are supposedly speaking Chinese, I hate it. The American market demands English dialogue or dubbing, but Americans, you should grow up and live with subtitles like the rest of the world. Oh, and BTW America, this drubbing you're getting is not at all related to the two star rating some twit from the Apple Podcasts USA site gave me.
Based on the "writings" of Bruce Lee, this is bloody, sexy, violent, in fitting with the excess of the 1970s, Bruce's era, brought back to the 1870s, but with a little Blade-like EDM thrown in. It's much better than hokey old David Carradine's Kung Fu, and I liked it, but the realistic racism got me down.
I have a recollection of Alan Moore---a gangly flash of beard and wizarding stick---legging it up a train platform.
Recently, a massive dose of caffeine stewing my CPU, I wasn't so sure. Was it something I was told, then adopted as my own memory? So I went through my Twitter timeline and found a tweet from 2016 encouraging a guest to tell their Alan Moore story.
My excuse, I'm ageing, I'm unwell, I'm tired, I've done over 400 shows, tweeted more than 16,000 times, and I'm 16.73 light years away from home. There were bound to be some podcasting cockups. I'm letting myself off the hook.
We talked a lot about werewolves last time, but what is the origin of this very common obsession I and many other horror geeks share?
For me, it is pretty personal. Growing up as a minority within a minority within a minority, I felt powerless; besieged on all sides, by my neighbours, community, authority; there was nowhere to escape. Werewolves in fiction are also a minority, but far from powerless. It does not take a degree in psychology to decipher why I identified with lycanthropes.
The theme of minority are seen throughout the genre. In the Underworld series, Michael Sheen plays Lucian, a werewolf revolutionary leader, who tries to throw off the shackles of enslavement imposed upon his species by the posh and entitled vampires. In the Howling films, dirt poor artistic weirdos, the Quist siblings, are werewolves. In the Gary Brandner novels that spawned the movie, Eddie Quist is a blue collar schlub.
In my mind, I escaped into the woods of the imagination. I even fashioned for myself IRL a wolf belt buckle! Werewolves represented power and freedom and by god I was going to stand naked in the cold moonlight and howl. (At least in my head; doing that in reality would be absurd to the Nth degree).
And it's not just werewolves, it's Dirty Harry, Judge Dredd, etc. too. I just thought I'd drop that in if you thought self-identification with werewolves might be problematic. How can we appreciate our inner wolf? Jump into the werewolf genre with Richard Corben's comic book Roda and the Wolf; a palaeolithic re-telling of Little Red Riding hood, Angela Carter's A Company of Wolves and Neil Jordan's adaptation, Hammer Film Productions' The Curse of the Werewolf starring Oliver Reed, Jack Nicolson's Wolf, the sublime Wolfen, and who can forget wolf-boy Lucan; a 1970s Mowgli? And my favourite franchise; The Howling. Stop now, there are plenty more to choose from! Pop culture is replete enough to make one's bloody cup runeth over... with blood. Ooowww!
Stop whining about the demise of cinema. It isn't going to happen.
The concept of multiplexes goes back to the beginning of the 20th century, then only started to come to prominence in the 80s and 90s.
Before that time what the hell did you think we did? We didn't just bang rocks together for entertainment. No! We went to the cinema. It was a special occasion, but it was not fundamentally any more expensive either. In fact, I feel subjectively that multiplexes, despite their commodification of the cinemagoing experience, has not reduced ticket prices. Even if many 'plexes, arthouses, and mum and pops close, when the pandemic ends, other will step in to take their place.
What you should be more worrieed about is the pandemic continuing. If that happens, then cannabilsm, not ticket prices, will be our problem.
I like Maggi Hambling's new sculpture of Mary Wollstonecraft unveiled last year in Newington Green, North London.
Mary who? Mary Shelly's mum and, as her epitaph states, "Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, Author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman".
I think that the statue showing a short haired and athletic Wollstonecraft emerging from a vague fountain of female forms looks dynamic and modern. My interpretation is that it represents the subject triumphantly emerging and simultaneously part of all the women who came before her.
Unlike Scallup, this time the controversy isn't about it's location, but the subject's nakedness. I don't agree, and nudity was not my initial thought when I saw it.
On the subject of Scallup, I also like her sculpture in memory of Benjamin Britten in Suffolk, though I find it's placement obnoxious. In an age when our views of the landscape and seascapes and other beautiful views are diminishing, the less blocking architecture we have to put up with, the better.
While I largely have no problem with her work---who couldn't like Oscar Wilde across the road from Charring Cross---I find Maggi Hambling does herself no favours in her cantankerous and hostile defence of her art. Recently, on BBC's Hardtalk, she bleated about the tyranny of political correctness; a term used in a modern context by the right to illogically castigate anything they don't like. Ironic, it was first used to criticise Nazis. I do wish people would stop whining about the what they perceive as the oppression of political correctness. Maybe they should consider that they are just looking for an excuse for their rudeness.
On August 31, Hannah Ritchie of CNN, sourcing an AP report, wrote that Afghan folk singer Fawad Andarabi was murdered by the Taliban north of Kabul, sparking fears that they have not changed since their last rule from 1996--2001, when they banned most music.
His son said, "He was innocent, a singer who only was entertaining people."
Another attack on culture, and I worry too about the rich treasure of historical artifacts again at risk from the Taliban, not to mention the human cost of murders, the repression of women, the continuing tragedies like the failed rescue attempt by a contractor to evacuate 400 hundred of his staff, and the horrendous US drone strike that may have killed several children in Kabul.
Isn't the war over?
According to a recent episode of the BBC More Less podcast, Mr Spock's statistical prognostications are mostly wrong. The thing is, we're are always shown that Spock's calculations, McCoy's humanity, and Kirk's unconventional approach are all valid.
But anyway if my hero Spock is wrong a lot, he certainly knows how to bluff it out in style. Dark Mirror Spock? That beard is the very definition of a goatee, even if it was a spirit gummed on chin wig.
A BBC article reports that hacktivism group Edalat-e Ali (Ali's Justice) exfiltrated video footage from Evin prison's CCTV showing the physical abuse of prisoners, including fighting, beating, neglect, etc.
Iranian prison authorities have apologised.
I've retired General Blackblood (XM8500). Rudolph (SM58) is currently mic 1 in my studio. Stogie (AT875R) is a key member of the outside broadcasting unit. The next mic I get will be named Ro-Jaws.
Oh, I do love 2000 A.D.
Tangent, there's a new old YouTube vid of Lemmy singing We Are Motorhead with a mic that looks like an SM58 with a weird basket. What is it?
BTW, the SM58, to my inexpert ears sounds like a SM7B with the presence boost engaged. What do you think? If you did get an SM7B, sure it's a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason, and you have not wasted your money, so don't beat yourself up.
There is a lovely YouTube performance by Filipino band on the Wish 107.5 Bus.
The bus/studio is known for using notoriously p-pop happy mics; the Rode Procaster. How are the singers not p-popping without an extra external windscreen or pop filter? Is it technique or hidden extra foam?
Why didn't I think of this before returning the dbx 286s (a budget channel strip)?
Run my raw podcast audio in reverse out of my mixer and into the channel strip post-production. Genius! Thanks gearspace.com user!
I tweeted recently that my Amazon Basics USB hubs were failing. Incensed at the time I wasted, I Googled and found several articles describing how the ports are prone to static build up that may cause them to temporarily fail; over time.
The cure is to unplug the devices, and power (if it's a powered hub), then reconnect.
Blow the man down! It works and I'm so glad I didn't thrown the old hub in the dustbin.
Mike Russell as posted an article at musicradiocreative.com titled View iTunes Reviews in All Other Countries.
It explains how to see your IT podcast reviews in other countries. He, says, "All you need to do is change the country code in the URL."
I discovered a couple of extra ratings, for my own pod, not great ones, so it makes me question why I bothered, but it might be useful or more encouraging to you.
How long has it been since the last update? Anyway, I didn't get the last job I applied for (it was with the Beeb), so I applied for another podcasting job (2021-08-31).
I do desperately want to get back into creative media, but the only employers I can find that will even consider me, aren't offering good, let alone adequate jobs.
It's not as if I haven't already done my fair share of "emergency" jobs in past either---it would surprise you how often---but I'm too broken to go back to manual labour.
Media was great while it lasted, but I'm considering IT again. Something in AI or VR perhaps? Oh wait.
I now longer want to aspire to Dylan Thomas's Under Milkwood's Captain Tom Cat, Captain Han Solo, Captain Ron, Captain Jack Sparrow, Captain Haddock, the very real and unpleasant Captain Every, the bucket wielding murderer Captain Kidd, servant murdering Odysseus, or any other personification or tragedy or brutality that seems forever bonded to the title, "captain".
Yes, there's Sinbad, for whom things do work out well, but generally, titles? Pah! I always hated being called an analyst-programmer, or a software engineer, or a business consultant, when I was actually specifically a systems analyst; why didn't they call me that?
I'm sick of titles. I'm sick of it all. Spiral alert!
I don't know what I'm going to do about this because I still don't know what to call this podcast after nine long years.
It (the quirk) might run in the family. Both sides.
My mother told me a few hours ago that she remembers the top hat I wore when we went to see Cats in the West End many years ago.
Top hat?! What top hat? I don't have a top hat. Although I want one now.
I was considering returning to pointy wizardy footwear, but maybe not after I read a CNN article about how the medieval fashion for pointy shoes caused bunions.
I'm sticking to Wallabees and Chuck Taylors.
I recently dropped and almost broke my precious bottle of summery Eden Perfume; a fragrance, which is a vegan clone/tribute of something famous.
I'm worried the next accident will destroy it, so I might as well enjoy it. Result? I smell fantastic.
(Not an ad).
Decompression time. Neputune's nuts, another nautical reference. And if one, why not another. Let's continue how we started and let's slump further into that deckchair on the tropical dessert island of our minds, sip that drink, and watch the sun go down.