Saturday, January 31, 2009

9 to 5

A while ago I read somewhere that Miss Croatia went on some Croatian talk show and declared her concern over the rise of "faggotry" in her country. The writer of that little news item was understandably upset, and proceeded to mock the girl for using such a - curious? outdated? - expression. And I thought to myself: Wow. Somewhere out there is the ultimate translator - so perfectly invisible he actually made someone assume the people of Croatia speak English on their national TV channels.

In completely unrelated news: I've decided to try and stop blaming everything on American ignorance.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

I'm sure it's very stylish

Man, the crisis has really the financial sector hard. I suspected no one would believe me if I told them what enticing offer I found on my bank's login page, so just went ahead and made a screencap. Won't be funny if you don't know Polish, but I'm off the clock, and also seriously doubt anyone reading this has that problem.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Tapping

Sometimes people say that a song puts them in a particular mood, but I've never really found that to be true*. If anything, it's the other way around - music sometimes has this cache of emotion that I may or may not be able to tap into, depending on my current disposition. It isn't always accessible - in fact, probably around 90% of the time listening to music is for me a purely aesthetic experience - but there are times when it's something more. I tried to find an analogy that would not in any way involve Magic: the Gathering, as I feel I've already geeked this place up beyond reason, but nothing seems to work, so... *sigh* let's call it mana.

It might seem like just a phrasing the same thing in reverse, but it allows you to factor in an additional level of complexity, which is just what a late-night blog post needs. First of all, I find I'm naturally predisposed towards certain types, and can tap them easily, regardless of circumstances, while others come to me only when the stars are perfectly alligned, and can become completely inaccessible in times of turmoil. I'm pretty adept at harnessing gray (moongazing, headlights in the rain), and can find traces of it almost anywhere. I'm also pretty decent with white (look how scenic and tranquil and life-affirming!), maybe because the two sometimes bleed into each other. On the other hand, it takes quite a bit of focus for me to get a gush of pink (so... do you come here often?), and tapping into red (jump! punch! one-two-three!) is a rare event indeed. (There's also one I'm completely unable to pinpoint emotionally - let's call it purple (vampires, cyberpunk, and River kicking ass) - that I sometimes get from, for example, Poe's Haunted.)

Secondly, the same song can produce different types of mana, depending on my filter, though the only example I can think of at the moment is Talisman by Air, which usually gives me white, but has been known to offer gray, and even pink.

This entire concept popped into my head about a week ago. I was on a bus heading downtown, Garbage's Bad Boyfriend came on, and I suddenly felt this surge of crimson - something I hadn't experienced in what seemed like forever.

And just like that, I knew the post-Washingtonian eclipse was over.

* with the notable exception of Trapeze Swinger by Iron & Wine, which is the saddest fucking song ever, so I just refuse to listen to it. Bad, black mojo.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Mutant update

Fleetwood Mac - The Dance

None of the songs tagged as originating from The Dance actually come from that album, which is a live recording. Last.fm settles for studio versions.

Extreme bonding

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Mutant update

Tragically Hip - Courage

An underwhelming live performance, instead of the studio version. If last.fm really felt the need to spice things up here, it could have at least gone with the Sarah Polley cover.

The Germanies continued

Time for some more Secrets of the Gotha, as the backlog is getting pretty big:


The Duchy of Brunswick and the Kingdom of Hanover

Brought up in England by his uncle the prince regent, the future George IV, he had lived there until 1851, when he had gone to France in a baloon and stayed there.

(I wonder if "Go to France in a baloon and stay there" was the 19th century version of "Fuck off and die")

The King [Ernst-Augustus I] who had spent all his life in England, had remained very British and did not care much for Hanover: his capital was too small for his lioking, and the sight of his subjects irritated him. His son was spared this irritation since he lost his sight when young through whirling a chain which flew out of his hand and struck him in the eyes. His Hesse-Darmstadt cousins, who were economical by nature, took advantage of this infirmity in a rather sordid way. They did not turn the fountains full on when he came to stay with them.
***

George V's son, called Ernest-Augustus like his grandfather, was, during the first years of his life, the hope of the dynasty and the delight of the old king, who had him brought in every evening after dinner so that he could play with him. This reunion between grandfather and grandson gave rise to scenes so strange that one must quote the countess of Muenster, who observed them during on of her visits to the court:
'It was very touching to see the old man, who tended to be very severe and impatient, hold out his arms to this ugly, but nevertheless well brought-up child, while the child seized the little tuft of white hair which still adorned his grandfather's forehead, and, uttering piercing cries and kicking at his neck, fought to get hold of the king's monocle. This last exploit was somewhat dangerous, and as a rule, at this point in the game, the king tried to get rid of the struggling, angry child - by no means an easy operation. The last amusement which the boy asked for and obtained every day was as follows: the king would open his mouth, put his tongue out, and the child would rub his hands and cheeks against it (...) When the rite was completed, the king would rise and say: "Now let us go to the nursery for the bath." A ceremony which everyone considered very necessary after the licking procedure. Once we reached the nursery, chairs were arranged round a bath tub full of warm water to which a sweet perfume had been added. All we had to do then was to sit down and watch the spectacle of the child and his bath. When the sound of splashing grew louder, or a cry of delight was heard from the child, the poor crown prince [sic], who was blind, would turn towards us and ask with a laugh: "What part of his body are they washing now?"
'I need not add that this question was sometimes embarassing.'

***
Instead of the kingdom of Hanover, the duchy of Brunswick, which had been administered since 1866 by a regent, was solemnly returned to the grandson of the last sovereign, as a wedding present. William II [Emperor of the unified Germany, which incorporated Hanover] gave his daughter [who was marrying the abovementioned heir] the famous Brunswick jewels, which had been confiscated [along] with the country.

I think confiscating countries is definitely the way to go. Think big!


The Duchy of Coburg

Their daughters' only dowry was great virtue protected by even greater ugliness. They found it hard to obtain husbands: the eldest, Sophia, had married an Austrian gentleman, Count Mensdorff-Pouilly; the second, Julia, had fallen to the Grand Duke Constantine, grandson to the Tsarina Catherine, who, when he had been asked to choose between the three sisters, had cried: 'If I have to have one of them, I'd prefer the smallest. I'll marry the ugly little creature!'

***
The new duchess, ex-duchess of Edinburgh, was the only daughter of Tsar Alexander II, and thus born Grand Duchess Marie of Russia. Deeply conscious of her imperial origin, she had never been able to accustom herself to being in England only the wife of a younger brother of the royal house (...) She regretted in English fog the snows of her country, and when her husband was called to succeed to the throne of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha she went to reign in Coburg, delighted that she could at least satisfy her appetite for domination. Until her death she remained convinced that there was nothing in the world more pleasant than being a grand duchess of Russia. She never failed to remind anyone who in conversation forgot to address her as 'Imperial Highness' (...) She survived the 1914-1918 war only to see the disappearance of her former duchy and the collapse of the Russian empire (...) It is said that she died of shock on the day when she received an official letter from the new German government addressed simply to 'Frau Coburg'.

The saga of the court of Baden and Caspar Hauser deserves a separate post, so that's all for now.

Name one



This video pitted my longstanding crush on Tom Lenk against a burgeoning one on the other guy, who may very well be his boyfriend (that is until - around the 3rd viewing - both crushes decided to make love instead of war and live in perfect harmony). It's official - the Whedon crew produces the best youtube goofiness around. The first sign was, of course, this.

Glitches

I really like the last.fm radio. It's like an automatic preaching machine that frees me up to focus on more pressing issues, such as Project Runway Canada. However, sometimes - due to mistagging, or what have you - it doesn't play exactly what it advertises. Sometimes the difference is slight - like a live version, instead of the studio recording. Sometimes there's a freaky remix. But at least on one occasion it was just some completely different song. I've decided to start tracking these aberrations, mostly for shits and giggles, but also so that I have deniability if something terrible pops up pretending to be something else. The list so far is:

Sneaker Pimps - 6 Underground (weird remix, which is a shame, since I love the song)

All Things Bright and Beautiful - Speaking in Tongues (a completely different song, but it's also possible that I'm the one who has the title/artist wrong, because it's really obscure - I found it on a dismal and swiftly cancelled TV show and had to hire forensic experts to track it down)

Basia - Take Him Back, Rachel (a live version, and I really hope the radio pops this one out again soon, because it's absolutely hilarious and just all sorts of wrong)

Monday, January 19, 2009

Frack this

After four seasons of Battlestar Galactica, whenever a character goes "Hey, did I ever tell you that excruciatingly drawn-out story from my childhood that'll inevitably serve as an allegory to what's going on right now?" my heart sinks a little bit more.

I realize all-out gloom and doom is proper form after your Promised Land turns out to be a barren wasteland (though seriously, if Jews and Mormons dealt with it, why can't Capricans?) but the ever-present pathos is just so grating. The only thing about the season premiere I actually enjoyed was Duala's story arc. The rest was like a study in Alzheimers: "God, I hate this character." "Oh no, he's still alive?" "Ack, I totally repressed this guy." But I'll see this series through to the end, because I know every season they have these 2-3 episodes that are absolutely awesome and almost make up for having to sit through one gruelling Chief storyline after another.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

PR, eh?

I recently read somewhere that the contestants on Project Runway Australia were kind of amusing in that they were trying to out-polite the Project Runway Canada ones, but that the host was not as funny or quick as Iman. To which I thought: wait, what? Polite Canadians? Iman? *clapclap* Bring me this Project Runway Canada that you speak of!

Well, I just watched the first episode, and the potential for hilarity is enormous. It starts out with a panorama of the city, and they used the same yellow lens filter, which worked pretty well for New York, but made the smaller and less scyscraper-happy Toronto look bit like Dubai after a severe biological attack. Having established that we're in some sort of barren, desert-like hellscape, we are shown the contestants, herded on some filthy-looking and equally devoid of life industrial dock. And then, finally - Iman arrives. Aboard a huge, seemingly empty yacht. Just her, standing on the prow of her ghost ship, waving regally. Whenever the camera panned out to show the entire boat, I half-expected the co-host (who appears to be a cross between Tim Gunn and Magnum, P.I.) to go "Look what we had shipped from overseas!" And one of the contestants actually mirrored that sentiment by declaring "I guess they wanted a foreigner or something, 'cause all of a sudden - there's Iman."

That being said, she makes an awesome host. For one thing, she seems very opinionated and has no qualms about voicing those opinions. I think at one point she even cut one of the other judges short just to state how much she disagreed with what he was saying. Then there's her persona. At first I couldn't put my finger on what was bugging me about it, she just seemed kind of stiff - and it didn't help that they literally alternate between having her, and a headless mannequin deliver the "after the break..." line in the mini-promos. Then, finally, it hit me - it's like she's doing an extension of the the she-pharaoh character from that Michael Jackson video. She's just being very regal and poised. And I secretly hope that's just how she acts in real life, even when she's, like, buying groceries. Because let's face it - she can totally pull it off.

As for the contestants, they're delightful reinforcements of Canadian stereotypes - endlessly polite and friendly. The first guy to get booted off said that everyone else was obviously better than him and he was out of his league. The second guy was all about how creative the others were, and how grateful he was for this experience. What's more, when this Transylvanian cub (a recent immigrant from Roumania - not yet well-versed in his new homeland's customs) blurted out at the judges that he didn't want to make plain clothes, because "plain garments are all that Canada has" - the editor in chief of Canadian Elle just chuckled and bowed her head graciously, whereas in the American version the response would probably be more along the lines of "Guess what else we have? Running water." There's only one person who's a bit aloof and who declared she's only there to do her own stuff and doesn't intend to pay attention to anybody else. Can you guess which province she is from? If you hissed disdainfully "Secessionist!" and spat at the nearest baguette - you were right.

My favorites so far are: a funny, plump and perky Asian girl from Vancouver, the Transylvanian, who does a lot of frou frou and keeps talking about "bringing Euro to the table" (dude, you don't have Euros yet), and, in a love/hate kind of way, this guy from - get this - Saskatoon in Saskatchewan who said he started making clothes because he was so fat in high school that nothing fit him.

I also just read who won, in the fucking GOOGLE LINK DESCRIPTION for the official site. Ehh.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Let's see...

I went to Cracow last weekend, to get my palate thoroughly cleansed. Mission accomplished. Almost miraculously so. I don't know if a change of scenery works every time - will have to try it out during the next system restore situation - but it feels like the trip snapped me right back into actually living my life, as opposed to making disgusted faces at it from a distance.

And I think Cracow itself might have had something to do with it. It really grew on me, and this time I felt quite comfortable there. Everything you need is within spitting distance - it feels like you can't throw a stone without it setting up a pub or a bar of some sort - and even if your hostess happens to live on the outskirts (next to a bog), the dreaded taxi fare is something, like, 30PLN. Which is pretty laughable if you've ever had to haul your ass out of Kabaty.

The company didn't hurt either. I got a tour of the Kropka HQ, and even took a picture of Piotr's highly organized cassette collection (four boxes labelled: Stuff, Various, Crap, and DM - no idea what that stands for). I got to see Drewniak's flatmates' apartment*, and the broom closet she occupies in it. I was a bit confused when she made a point out of showing me that she does, indeed, have a window, until I got back home and Ana asked me about precisely that detail, pointing out that servants' quarters usually didn't have one. So I guess it was Drewniak's way of subtly informing me that she isn't the live-in help, and merely lives in comparable conditions. She also shared her highly traumatic Facebook story about how nobody wanted to send her an egg, or something, so finally she just sent one to herself, but got embarassed when she saw the news feed broadcast this plea for attention, and - trying to erase it - completed her humiliation by accidentally highfiving herself. I also remember her telling what I initially thought was a freaky pedophiliac story about Zanussi, and only after a few minutes realizing it was actually the plot of a movie with Zamachowski.

There was also non Drewniak-related stuff, but I've completely exhausted myself wrangling with the grammar on those turds up there. I'm seriously considering moving the everyday stuff back to Polish turf and saving this place for howling and pop culture. It's just SO gruelling.

* a deliberate distinction - read on

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Litter

I never really got lolcats, but I'm beginning to think it's just because cats tend to annoy me (or rather: cat owners talking about their cats), and given a more palatable subject matter I might get a kick out of the format. Exhibit A: I actually laughed at the avocado one.

Then there's tweaked movie posters.

Apparently at one point in history someone at MTV gave Courtney Love 24 hours of non-stop airtime (choice bits here). Makes you wonder how much more awesome, lifesaving Celine Dion the fourfour guy could have extracted if he had a full day of footage to work with.

And finally, some Czech dude was commissioned by his government to create an installation representing the European Union Member States. And he did. Kind of. To be honest, I'm confused by the reverse Iwo Jima parallel in the Polish section, but hey - its art! (Side question: how can you tell something's made of Nazi gold?)

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Intermission

Will try to write something about Cracow, or the season premiere of Damages, or both, at some point, but right now I should really be working, so instead here's a glance at what is probably my favorite political entity of all time:
At the end of the eighteenth century, the Germanies, as they were then called, were composed of an infinite number of territories, some of them fairly large, most of them minute. Their masters, who were absolute monarchs as far as their subjects were concerned, were themselves dependent on an elected emperor, the head of the Holy Roman Empire of Germany. In the past the Holy Roman Emperor, who was the virtual heir to the crown of Charlemagne, had possessed undeniable power, but since the treaty of Westphalia [ending the Thirty Years' War in 1648] his real strength had declined to the point where it was no more than a moral authority which made him, like the pope, one of the spiritual masters of Europe. This elective sovereignty had moreover become hereditary in the house of Austria, the most powerful dynasty within the Holy Roman Empire and the only one which commanded sufficient prestige to earn the votes of the great electors. [They] were nine in number (six lay: Bavaria, Bohemia, Saxony, Brandenburg, the Palatinate, Hanover; and three ecclesiastical: Maine, Cologne, Trier-Coblenz) (...)

The Holy Roman Empire had tried its best to unite the Germanies, so different from one another that the only link between them was the post conducted by the house of Turn und Taxis, in blue coaches which ran non-stop across the vast empire. The princes of Turn und Taxis, grand masters of the Posts since the early sixteenth century, earned from this privilege one of the most considerable fortunes of the period. It allowed them to indulge in ostentation far greater than monarchs with greater possessions could afford.

The electorates represented the great powers but there existed as well nearly eight hundred countries. Many only extended over a few square miles but possessed rights as deserving of respect as those of Bavaria or Saxony. The empire was divided into ten circles, and the circle of Swabia alone, for example, included ninety-seven sovereigns, four ecclasiastical princes, fourteen secular princes, twenty-three prelates, twenty-five members of the ban of nobles and thirty imperial cities. Some principalities did not possess a thousand inhabitants, but they considered that their princess, who often lived like modest country gentlemen, equalled the greatest monarchs on earth. They greeted them with remarks of the greatest respect: 'Your most serene pigs have condescended to eat my humble potatoes,' a peasant said to one of these potentates.

Having read all that, can you really blame me for hating Bismarck?

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Oh whatever

Turns out the Golden Globes got awarded last night. I totally forgot about them, but was thrilled to discover they finally got into merchandising and started offering Golden Globe Action Figures. Check them out! (Also available in sets).

Monday, January 12, 2009

ADD

For a while now I've been meaning to write about the new Elbow album everyone's been raving about - mainly because it merits some raving of my own. My entry point was The Bones of You, which I fell in love with at first listen, and I had all these things I wanted to write about it: how the imagery reminds me of Stakka Bo's Sunday, how I absolutely adore the lyrics, the sentiment, and the contrast in phrasing between the jiggsaw-y, irregular verse (especially the 2nd one) and the even-cut chorus, how my favorite moment is the "and I can't move my arm" line when he breaks out of the mold for a split second, shifting the emphasis to the penultimate syllable, and leaving said arm dangling limply...

But that was several days ago. Then I went to Cracow, and was cut off from the Internet. And on the train back home I totally fell in love with Audience with the Pope, and couldn't stop listening to it. And when I sat down at the computer, I had a brief chat with Karolina, and suddenly remembered how The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver totally reminds me of Engineers, so I found a clip on youtube to show her what I mean... and now I'm watching it over and over and over again. And you should too.



(It's ok to tear up a bit around the 3rd minute mark - you're only human.)

I guess what I'm saying is: go buy this record. It's like a box full of mini-crushes. The good ones.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Wonder how he dies

I'm translating a kung fu movie where the protagonist, having mastered the Shaolin Invincible Body technique, renders himself impervious to harm - his only weak spot is his anus. I'll give you a moment to savor that one. I've yet to actually see it*, so my imagination is just teeming with images. Take for instance this exchange:

- Mom said that after you've been immersed in the wine, the only part vulnerable is your anus.
- Do I have to walk like this from now on?

You'd think it would be the Greeks who'd go there first, but no. It was the Chinese.

* the movie is in Mandarin, and I have a - sort of - English script, so the process is inverted: first I translate the lines, and then try to match and adjust them to the video

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Quicksand



A friend sent me this delicious Prince knock-off, and I love it. It feels like someone customized a nice, classic song for me by adding female vocals, pretty colors, and Tilda Swinton. And the girl really does have a cool voice - though you have to wait until the bridge to actually hear it properly.

Counterspell

I had my last wisdom tooth extracted today. Finally. That makes four, since last winter. Which means I spent over a year constantly looking forward to having my teeth pulled.

As I laid in the chair, I sought something to distract me from what was about to happen, and in desperation started just recalling random images of the Scotsman. Worked like a charm, I barely even noticed when it was over.

During a recent chat with Karolina I reached the conclusion that I'm actually a closeted Polyanna - determined to find a plus side even when confronted with a negative sphere. I do, however, recognize that this search is probably best postponed until such a time when the relevant stimuli are no longer capable of competing with the fact that someone's hacking away at your face with a chisel.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

A pony?

Time for some more aristocratic hilarity. This edition is devoted to France (focusing on the imperial, rather than royal or - God forbid - republican episodes though).

The surprising dynastic ties of the First Empire:

One curious detail: his marriage to Joséphine linked Napoleon to the reigning house of Osman, in Turkey. A young cousin of his wife, Aimée Dubucq de Rivery, had been carried off by Barbary pirates during a sea-crossing, sold as a slave in Constantinople and had then become the Sultana Validé, mother of the future Sultan Mahmud II.

Queen Hortense of Holland:

The marriage of Louis Bonaparte and Hortense de Bauharnais, the daughter of Joséphine, was very happy but inexplicably blessed by heaven. The queen, although she always lived as far away from her husband as possible, still gave him numerous and beautiful children. King Louis, who was horrified by such shameless behavior, had confessed his marital disappointments to the pope, and in one of his vehement epistles had compared his wife to Messalina. In fact Queen Hortense was no more than a charming flighty girl who was the first to be surprised by her pregnancies and confused those responsible. 'Hortense always gets muddled over the fathers of her children,' said Napoleon, not without indulgence, for some suspected that he was the father of her eldest son

And the reigning couple of the Second Empire:

The empress' well-known coldness soon extinguished the ardour of Napoleon III's passion, but she retained her hold over his mind. As General du Barrail subtly remarked: 'She dominated him not so much by her charms as by the memory of the numerous occasions on which he had failed to appreciate them.'

Napoleon III had only one son by his marriage, the prince imperial. His birth in 1856 had been greeted with the same demonstrations of joy as that of the king of Rome, but neither of them ascended the throne for which their births had been so ardently desired. The anxiety and joy of Napoleon III were so great at the moment of the birth that he could only reply 'no' by a shake of his head when the empress, anticipating the worst, asked him if it was a daughter. 'It's a boy!' she cried, relieved. But the emperor, becoming more and more emotional, again replied 'no'. 'Then what is it?' she moaned, completely panic-stricken.
Next up: the German countries, which is where the real fun begins.

Friday, January 2, 2009

MotD

I take umbrage with this suckage.

Fusion

The official trailer for the new Prince of Persia made me smile. See if you can figure out why:

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Either way - he's disabled



Runners-up: black fags and an abundance of penis.