John Walker's Electronic House

Lewis Black is a funny guy… the first time you see him do the material. The second time, on a different show/CD/DVD, it’s ok. The third time, you begin to realise he’s a man who shouts a lot without much to say. The weather’s messed up you say Lewis? Yes – you were shouting that a decade ago, with the exact same words. (Kim is so going to kill me for Black hating). So, he’s got a new show, which is, and you can just hear the meeting at Comedy Central, Lewis Black complaining about things. “You know my stand up act I’ve done on your station for the last decade? I want to do it again, but stretched out to half an hour, with guests.”

The concept is awkward, but not inherently bad. Black is the judge of a nonsensical battle to find out which of two subjects are the “root of all evil”. Guest comics present the argument for why their subject is said root in the form of stand up/pre-recorded VT. It’s a neat way to get topical comedy into a half-hour format. Except, on your launch show, maybe the subjects Oprah vs. the Catholic church are a tiny little bit miserably tired and obvious.

Oprah? OPRAH? Is it 1992? And not some new insightful commentary on recent actions, but that she’s fat, and gives away cars. The Catholic church? What could it be?!! Shockingly, “boy fucking” and having tortured people hundreds of years ago. Yes – medieval topical comedy!

Except of course this is Comedy Central – a channel that so desperately wants to be free, but is rammed so far up Viacom’s backside that it bleeps out the word “ass”. So it’s not jokes about “boy fucking”, but about “boy BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP”, screeching far more offensively than any curse word ever could. If you have an FCC-based system where you’re not allowed to swear, then for crying out loud, don’t swear. Add The Root Of All Evil to The Daily Show for programmes that make you think you’ve got tinnitus.

So once Black’s shouted, joke-free opening monologue is over, the two comics perform their routines. Which is fine. The subjects are pathetic, but the material is reasonable. The highlight would be visiting a high school to ask the students whether they’d prefer a new iPod or a $46m school, after Oprah announced she would be building a school in South Africa because she believed the kids of America would rather the toys. Her stupidity was pleasingly highlighted as the inner-city high school kids all picked the school.

But then, halfway through, the format takes over. Black goes back and forth between the two comics asking them to defend their positions, in a horribly over-rehearsed and under-written sequence, that descends desperately to crappy puns. From there on there’s no reason left to watch, as the prescribed banter reads itself out loud until the credits roll. Of course Oprah is the greater evil over the Catholic church, because, er, she’s fat?

It’s a Comedy Central love-in, and reeks of long-term contracts that needed a show to justify them. Perhaps if they can find some topics to cover that aren’t between 2000 and 20 years out of date, it may fare better.

New Dexter pics are up.

But be warned: some are really frightening.

Woo woo! New Ace Attorney game!

Review on EG this morning. I shall quote the appropriate:

There are some reading this who want to know nothing about Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney, the fourth game in the AA series and the first to see Phoenix Wright’s name removed from the box. But they want to know whether to buy it or not. To them, the answer is: yes. But, well, just don’t expect all your wishes to come true. Read no more.

Also, I forgot to link to this review of Harvey Birdman last week.

Today’s most vile human being is… Feargal Sharkey!

Formerly the lead singer of the Undertones, and formerly worth oxygen, the appalling cretin said this to The Register, when defending the role of copyright for musicians, and opposing sharing of music:

“Invariably, it’s artists and creators who are at the sharp end of this food chain, and they’re the ones that will get to the stage that they’ll give up and go and do something else – because they have to pay the rent, pay the gas bill and feed themselves, buy shoes, and deal with all the things normal people expect to deal with in life. So people have to realise there’s an implication in this.

There’s been all this play about FairTrade coffee and FairTrade sugar – but what about FairTrade bloody music?”

This sell-out corporate shill just compared having his album downloaded with living as a slave in a developing nation. I’m lost for words to describe how utterly, poisonously foul that is.

Nevermind the extensive stupidity of making an argument about people expecting to get paid “at the end of the week”, in defense of an industry body that’s currently fighting to have decades of extra copyright for artists who did their week’s work over fifty years ago, and still believe they are entitled to infinite profit for eternity.

The interesting point he makes, which is hopefully true, is that when sharing music does finally destroy the recording industry, and it becomes recognised as the strangling evil on music that it has been for the last one hundred years, most people will walk away. And thank goodness. That will be the most glorious day. I cannot wait for 90% of musicians to stop, leaving only the 10% who are in it for reasons that matter.

A couple of weeks ago, the equally viciously stupid Roger Daltry stated (without irony) that thousands of musicians had “no pensions and rely on royalties”. And therefore they should be entitled to perpetual profit from work they did decades earlier. Um? So if I don’t get around to setting up a pension, do I get this too? No? Oh, it’s only musicians who are special enough that if they’re too stupid to have arranged a pension, they deserve special rights? I see.

And these guys are winning the debate. It’s terrifying. But the good news is, Feargal Sharkey will always have made that comment about Fair Trade, and even when the RIAA and BPI own the copyright on our own circulation systems, he’ll be the despicable human being who said that. Well done Sharkey – look what you’ve become.

ITV News has gotten hold of documents and photographs about why the police killed Jean Charles De Menezes on the tube.

The documents and photographs confirm that Jean Charles was not carrying any bags, and was wearing a denim jacket, not a bulky winter coat, as had previously been claimed.

A document describes CCTV footage, which shows Mr de Menezes entered Stockwell station at a “normal walking pace” and descended slowly on an escalator.

A number of people commented when I last wrote about this story, before the details were revealed, and when the story went along the lines of: the police having told him to stop, shouted at him as they chased him through a tube station, where in his heavy bulky coat he ignored their instructions and leapt the barriers.

Some who commented stated that de Menezes deserved what happened to him, citing all the excuses that have now disappeared.

To these people, I ask: please, next time, will you remember this? Will you remember that you were lied to, given little morsels of misinformation that were deliberately designed to play on your prejudices, and enough excuses to not have to face up to the reality of what had happened.

Those morsels are gone now. This is not “I told you so”. This is, please, next time, stop and remember this. Because next time the report probably won’t leak, the truth won’t get out, and the convenient lies will stay in place. As with so many times before.

I went to see a GP on Friday, after finally growing fed up of the constant pain in my left little finger. For the last few months, I have found that bending my left elbow at all causes pins and needles to build in the finger instantly, and if the arm is not frequently straightened fully, it quickly becomes painful. Obviously when writing, and indeed when existing at all, the left arm needs to bend halfway down, so this is rather irritating.

I also decided it was about time to try again with my right knee, which if not clicked about once a minute develops a horrible ache. This is the bane of my life, meaning I spend about 25% of my time ensuring I have enough space to straighten my leg to feel the satiating click. Pub tables are frequently peaked under to find a route through which the limb can stretch, planes and trains need to provide me with aisle seats if journeys are not to be absolute torture, and I will try to go to the cinema at off-peak times so that I can put my leg over the chair in front. Indeed, sat at this desk where I spend half my life, my right leg is not underneath, but sticking out the side so it can be frequently clunked into submission. It’s funny how all this fuss has become something I live with, to the point where I’d forgotten it was a fault worth addressing. I remember mentioning it to a GP once when a teenager, and he said, “Yes, it clicks. I don’t know why,” which was just fabulous. I think I grew resigned to it then.

So Friday’s visit about the increasingly uncomfortable elbow afforded me the opportunity to mention the knee as well. The idea that they might be connected, for reasons I cannot fathom, had never occurred to me. The doctor dismissed RSI immediately, and recognised that it was something in the elbow plucking at my ulna nerve – the nerve that provides feeling in the little finger, and half of the ring finger. He held my elbow and then bent and straightened my arm, feeling the clunk with each straightening. And then suddenly his interest appeared piqued. He took hold of my fingers and bent them backward. This is no terrible thing – my fingers are able to bend backward until they are parallel with the back of my hand – it’s quite disgusting for the uninitiated, but a source of novelty joy for me. The fingers on both hands are able, without aid, to bend backward far enough to appear as if… oh, it’s much easier if I just show you.

The natural backward-curve. About half a foot away from the stuff in the background, despite looking as if it’s resting on them.

The extent to which my fingers can bend back on themselves. Loses nothing in the flattening of a photograph : )

But this has only ever been a pub trick – a way to scare the squeamish. My fingers do all manner of other disgusting tricks – the knuckles so adequately demonstrated as bending equally in both directions in the photo also bend disturbingly on the x-axis, meaning my hands can sort of fold in half lengthways as well. This is brilliant for reaching inside Pringles tubes and similar, as they bend in half to become cylindrical. This is, I think, far more disgusting when wobbled about in front of people. Which is what it’s really all about. In fact, the even joints in each finger bend amusingly, allowing me to contort my hands into all manner of awful positions. And the backward cupping makes for a neat trick while juggling.

So the doctor was bending my fingers about, and then asked me to lie on the bench and began trying similar experiments with my legs. Now, I’ve always been able to put my toes to my mouth – a common enough trick amongst flexible girls, so something I’ve never thought much of. I can get my heel to my forehead, in fact, but have little use for this. Again, it never occurred to me that this might be at all unusual in an overweight male.

And then he called me “fascinating”. Something with which I’m sure people would be hard-pushed to disagree. It turns out I have ‘Hypermobility Syndrome’.

This means little more than that most of the joints in my body don’t know when to stop. And it’s of little cause for concern – it generally cures itself with age. But at worst, it can cause secondary arthritis, and with the trapped ulna nerve, and the accompanying pain, I’m being referred to a rheumatologist for Experiments.

It’s a funny thing, how what you’re used to is what you assume to be normal. I remember once my mum exclaiming in disgust at how my toes were pointing upward with my feet flat on the floor – just a normal fiddly thing for me. I ignored it then. And it’s only this weekend that I’ve learned it’s not normal for your wrist to bend past a right angle from your arm in either direction. Mine always have – I just thought all of them did that. And as I write this, I remember explaining to a chiropractor how if I didn’t click the vertebrae in my neck like this, “CRACK-ACK-ACK-ICK-ACK” and like this, “CRICK-ICK-ACK-ACK-ICK-ACK”, about once an hour, I get nasty headaches. He said to me looking slightly unnerved, “You’re neck isn’t meant to bend that far.” For some reason neither of us thought any more of it.

I asked the doctor if perhaps I ought to be in the circus. He didn’t think it was necessary. But I realise that were my back to demonstrate this ability (and it doesn’t to any interesting extent (so for all you foul people who were thinking that, no, absolutely not)) I would probably qualify as the “Indian Rubber Man” of days past.

So now I look forward to discovering what other joint-based things I can do that others can’t, and add them to my list of new-found super powers.

Currently booking flights for an October jaunt. Checking the travel insurance bits and pieces, I find this:

————-

Before You travel, You should ask yourself the following:

* Do You have any Pre-existing Medical Conditions?
If You have answered ‘Yes’ to the above question, You should telephone 0870 241 0090 for an alternative policy, as this policy does NOT cover any pre existing conditions. (This may also apply to any Close Relative (whether travelling or not), travelling companion, or person with whom You will be staying whilst on Your Trip.
* If You have purchased an Annual Multi-trip Policy, will the duration of any Trip exceed 31 days in respect of Silver cover or 62 days in respect of Gold cover?
* Do You intend to engage in any Winter Sports whilst on Your Trip?
* Do You intend to engage in any sports and activities whilst on Your Trip?
* Do You need the golf cover extension?
* Do You need the business cover extension?

If You have answered ‘Yes’ to any of these questions, or want to check anything before You travel, You should contact Your issuing agent or the Travel Helpline on 0870 737 5863.

IF YOU ARE DEAF OR HARD OF HEARING The following number is available for deaf, hard of hearing and speech impaired customers who have access to a text telephone: 01444 450 389

————

I’m not entirely sure you actually need to type in capitals for the deaf and hard of hearing to be able to read it.

I can’t remember what the context was now, but a long while back in Gamer I made a call for someone to invent the ‘second-person perspective’ game. Obviously I was being flippant, but now someone has created it:

Select Parks’ Julian Oliver has created something which doesn’t appear to have a given name. Apparently he’s been struggling with the notion for years himself, although unlike me, he took it beyond a stupid joke, and unlike me, is enormously skilled in all sorts of ways, and has made a demo of his idea.

“The first person perspective has always been priveledged with the pointillism (or synchronicity) of a physiology that travels with the will in some shape or form, “I act from where I perceive” and “I am on the inside looking out”. In this little experiment however, you are on the outside looking in, and to my great amusement, it’s a complete and total pain in the arse.”

Apparently the aim is to shoot yourself in order to survive, which sounds… um… like shooting the enemy to survive, surely? I don’t know – I’m just so proud that others take stupid ideas to such beautiful lengths.

It’s time for a few scientific experiments.

3) Stay with your back against the wall. This time, without the aid of a mirror, try and look at your own face.

It is a review, I promise. Of the new Tenchu ninja-em-up for PS2. Walker branches out.

Fascinating comments thread on this one. I appear to have managed to piss off the vociferous Eurogamer readership with everything I’ve written so far. But this time they seem especially cross.

I’ve tried not to cross-post with my other hooded and cloaked online presence, but this story is too good to write about only once in a day.

Jack Thompson, the US ‘lawyer’ who has spent his entire career attempting to supress expression in the media, has brought himself back up to the tippytop of his desperate fame via the GTA: San Andreas ‘Hot Coffee’ story. Surfing the wash of Hilary Clinton’s reactionary insanity upon the discovery of a mod that allows you to see non-nude, simulated cartoon sex, his idiot-mouthed screeching has ensured there must now be a tedious, and obviously entirely pointless, review of the contents of videogames.

Of course there’s an upside to this. It means that the ever-moronic Thompson will offer up ever more of his spectacularly stupid statements. His pathalogical inability to say anything that doesn’t immediately contradict itself is remarkable. It’s as if an angered gypsy put a curse upon him as a child, and ever since he is incapable of saying a sentence without immediately making a spectacular arse of himself. The recent 80 minute interview with Chatterbox contains some specials. Here are a couple of them:

When discussing Rockstar’s next release, Bully – a game which is alleged to contain simulated bullying, although of course no one claiming this has even seen the game running – he exclaims at the horror of a game that encourages violence saying,

“Somebody ought to grab these nutcases by the lapels.”

Sheer brilliance. But as nothing when compared with possibly the greatest quote of all time:

“There are sociopaths everywhere. Some of them are in government. Some of them are at Take Two. In fact, we’ve got a bunch of sociopaths in Edinburgh, Scotland, sitting around in their kilts, sipping single malt whiskey, spreading racial, hurtful stereotypes in this country.”

If he weren’t a lawyer, I’d call him an ignorant, scaremongering charlatan who should be in jail for contempt of court.