A new career beckons

I had a phone call left on my voice mail today. Apparently a local pub requires a Leo Sayer impersonator. A very odd call to come home to, especially with the remnants of last night still rattling around my system in a particularly vicious manner. I so hope it's a wrong number, because I'm not tempted. Not even for a second. No.

This is the guy you want. I think.

Looking Back, part 3

25th May 2006. I escape from work, and look forward to a few days off. I don't like to work on my birthday: in fact I never do, but I thought it politic to take some annual leave, rather than doing what I usually do.

I remember thinking that it was an extraordinarily beautiful day: Greenhead Park was full of people playing. Not just children, but people of all ages were out, just goofing off. This was a Thursday, for crying out loud. Something was up, and I liked it.

Then something odd happened. As I stood there, things seemed to morph into my old University campus: days spent blissed out watching the world... change.

They warned me about this kind of thing, but it always happens to other people, doesn't it? I don't scare easily though. So I rushed home and recorded the guitar riff that was now sounding like bells in my head. Soon after I hit this tornado of concentration and had to be hauled out of the studio to eat. By midnight, I'd gone from flashback and one riff to a full song.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: I Fall Through Clouds.

Looking Back, part 2

I can only recall crying with happiness once in my life. That was just after midnight on the night of 22nd July 2006.

The reason?

I was privileged enough to hear an advance mix of a song that crept me out and yet smothered me with a contradictory beauty and delicacy completely at odds with the lyrical content of the song.

Yeah. I blubbed like a baby.
Download You Belong To Me here.

New frontiers in science

What do you get if you administer the largest dose of LSD in history to an elephant?

No, it isn't a joke: and the answer isn't all that surprising, but I won't waste your click by telling you what happened.

Let The Guardian tell you instead.

Picture credit: the quite fantastic oCo

Looking Back, part 1

Funny year, this one. So I'm trying to take stock, TO MAKE SURE IT NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN. I don't think it will, but hey, you can't be sure. As part of this taking stock I've been looking back on "moments" of the year and... well. Suffer, bitches.

Right. Sunday 12th February was freezing, as I remember. Really bitter. So I was quite relieved when, after a false start, I arrived at the Cockpit in Leeds to watch David Ford play to a packed house. The packed house was the bit that shocked me. I remember mentioning that to Dave and Frances afterwards - I mean, specifically, as in "where the hell did all those people come from?" Made me glad and a little sad at the same time. He deserved it, but I felt a little... I dunno.

Anyway, here's an all-too-brief excerpt from that night. And yes, he is playing a manual typewriter.

Goodbye.

Merry Christmas.

iPod Surgery

Yes, my iPod died again the other day. This time I realised it was far enough out of guarantee to make a trip to Sheffield a bit of a gamble, and anyway: Meadowhall should be called Meadowhell this time of year.

And yes, I've tried the "smack it hard" trick. It gave me about 2 months more usage, but dead is dead.

So, I reasoned it's time to stop being such a victim and take matters into my own hands. Knowing full well that 40GB clickwheel iPods were made with duff hard drives (and Apple really should have recalled), I did a bit of research on the internet and managed to order a replacement off eBay. Only I took the plunge and decided to put a different hard drive in.

Here's some notes.

1 The original hard drive was the Toshiba MK4004GAH. This has been discontinued. Damn right. The corresponding replacement is the MK4006GAH. Ambitious types may wish to go up to 60GB. If you like the sound of this, the drive you require is the MK6006GAH.

2 Getting in: DO NOT USE A SCREWDRIVER. You will scratch your iPod to buggery. Buy a specialist tool. You can get them from music shops for about 30p. It's called a 1mm guitar pick. Don't use the flippy nylon ones. They're about as much use as a one-legged man at an arse-kicking party. Rigidity is a good thing here, and you want a balance between rigidity and width. Ooer.

This is where guitarists have a colossal advantage. People who live in Eugene, OR have even more of an advantage, as they can go to McKenzie River Music on West 11th. They keep a goldfish bowl of picks on the counter. They are nice people. I bought my Ovation from them. Perhaps you could buy a Fender Musicmaster from them. It's pricey, but you'll get a handful of free picks, and an excuse to learn the guitar. It's all good.

3 Once you're in, the rest is easy. Take the rubber bumpers off the old drive and fit them to the new one. Use your guitar pick to scrape the foam from the old drive and glue it to the new one. It's a Zero Insertion Force socket, so just put the cable in the right place, seat the drive inside and snap the case back on.

4 It'll probably not work quite yet. If you're using a PC, I can't help you and I don't want to. You're in the majority. Plenty of help out there. On the other hand, if you're using a Mac, you'll get a dialog box telling you that the disk cannot be read. Click "initialize" and Disk Utility will be opened for you.

(Digression: Why do they call them dialog boxes? There's no dialogue going on, just a statement of how it is, with a limited number of options: one of them being effectively, "well, fuck you, then". It's more like a dysfunctional marriage box, if you ask me.)

The iPod will appear in Disk Utility. Click erase, and it will be initialised. The moment this finishes, iTunes leaps into action, just as it did when you first connected the iPod.

Et voilà! It works. One clicking iPod becomes a Frankenstein's monster with 60GB capacity.

My creation lives!!!

Northern Monkey Phones 999 For Santa

A 999 call from a person who asked to speak to Santa was among the most outrageous reasons for ringing Yorkshire's ambulance service.

Right. That's it. I'm considering moving.

When Dry Ice Attacks

There are two types of adult. Those who think they've grown up, and those who know they won't. The former, in my experience, tend to be nasty types, playing a role, prone to think of themselves as "normal" and unable to see the effects of their own, often toxic, behaviour. The latter type tend to be a more self-aware bunch, sometimes prone to feeling lost in the sea of so-called "adults", but much more delightful for it.

In this experiment, we take two people who plainly have come to terms with the fact that they probably never will grow up, and give them a sink of hot water and a box of dry ice. Hilarity and much scientific inaccuracy ensues.



Kids. Try this at home.

Goodbye, Joe Barbera

Animator Joseph Barbera has died, age 95.

There goes my childhood.

A lucky escape...

I was off out on Friday - a daft little outing involving heavy balls and ten pins with Indian nosh for afters. Harmless fun. I nearly had a shave before. Been growing a beard, y'see. So, rather than succumb to the whim, I took a shower while I decided.

Anyway, once I'd scrubbed up I realised I didn't look bad and went out. Saw a few people who hadn't really clapped eyes on me since the release of Fnurgled.

"Jeeze" came the response. "You look like a '70s rock god." Slight hyperbole (ok, major), but appreciation nonetheless.

Then the paper arrived this morning (I still buy newsprint! How quaint!) and the cover story in G2 told how beards have become the New Black for Men.

You can imagine my confidence is getting dangerously close to hubris right now.

Oh, c'mon. I deserve a moment, don't I?

The picture? Oh, just an East Midlander who looked good in a beard...

Whales: A Lesson From History

According to the BBC, a dead sperm whale has been washed up on the beach at Roseisle in Scotland, aka pretty much the middle of nowhere. I notice from the report that "Council officials have ruled out using explosives to destroy the body."

This is a Good Thing.

A similar thing happened at one of my favourite beaches back in 1970. November 1970 to be exact, when a rather large whale carcass washed up on the beach just south of the Siuslaw River at Florence, Oregon - near where I used to fly my Flexifoil. On this occasion, because there were no rendering plants that wanted a whale carcass, they decided to blow it up. That's quite the decision making process, I'm sure you'll agree.

(Apologies to anybody to whom this is old news: I've known about this for about 10 years, but there are plenty that haven't. Be nice. Bear in mind that I work in a place where, out of 91 people, I am the only person who can actually name a Velvet Underground song. There were two people, but the other one got promoted to Head of Service. There's hope in that - or a terrible portent for the future. You decide.)

Here's the KATU channel 2 (Portland, OR) coverage of the event. It's pretty classic, particularly reporter Paul Linnman's alliteration fest. All TV reporters dream of a moment like that, I'm sure. Few achieve alliteration Zen quite like Linnman, though.



For more information on the great Oregon Exploding Whale fiasco of 12 November 1970, in fact for all your Exploding Whale needs, visit TheExplodingWhale.com where, amongst its resources, it has eight columns by Bob Welch. Mr Welch, although a bit schmaltzy at times, is a fantastic columnist who really gets to the heart of the community he serves. I probably learned more about Eugene's heritage from Mr Welch than from all of my friends put together.

(Do you like the way I went all The New York Times Manual of Style and Usage then?)

Wikihow reaches new heights

Quick! Pass me my laptop!

Is this the future? I hope so.

Welcome to the world of Nerdcore - hip-hop for geeks.

I'm liking this, I really am.

Pigeons Produce Comment Frenzy

It seems that the pigeon problem in Kingston-Upon-Thames has got so bad that they are employing a marksman to pick the buggers off

So what?

It's the comments at the bottom that go from good, to better through to damn-near excellent.

Read all about it...

Go on. Be envious.

Our Friends Electric

"Welcome to Milk Float Corner, to the best of my knowledge the only site on the web dedicated to "our friends electric" - the humble milk float. Designed for reliability, durability, and quietness of operation, milk floats are also pollution-free as they glide around during the early hours, and for most people who keep normal hours, the only evidence that they exist at all is the appearance of a pint of milk on the doorstep each morning. But although they may be inconspicuous, they are appealing little vehicles and this page aims to give them a bit more recognition."

Crazy.

Sharon: Please Get In Touch

Well, when I say "get in touch", I don't know how. The silly bugger hasn't left an email.

Still, it makes for diverting, if slightly disturbing reading...

And, for extra value, I give you a picture of a cat being spooky.

EDIT: A WHOIS search on the domain gave the following information:
Domain name:
meltham-missing-person.co.uk

Registrant:
Paul X

Registrant type:
UK Individual

Registrant's address:
The registrant is a non-trading individual who has opted to have their
address omitted from the WHOIS service.

Very odd.

The Fartown Massive

Found this piece of paper fluttering around the drive this morning. Seems we have gangstas in the 'hood.

I thought at first that it might just be a transcript from one of those new-fangled hop-hip records that the yoof listen to where people talk over a beat; but I googled the lyrics and found nothing.

So I can only assume the work is original.

One day they will aspire to the heights of this bunch.


I love Little Fuckin' Kev. Looks like he's going to start crying when he starts rapping. Tell 'em Joe!

EDIT: The Kersal Massive now have their own Wikipedia entry. I, along with my other felllow nobodies (© David Pogue 2006) can only dream of such fame.