Life in the bush
You know, there are pros and cons to living out here... One of the pros is that, if you have a civilised boss, you don't have to go to work when it's wet - sometimes. We had 84 points last night, so I don't have to start until 10 a.m. and then it's over to the boss' place to have the BMP and quality assurance manuals for the feedlot explained to me.
84 points ought to be enough to ensure the wheat and barley come to something, too.
One of the cons is that the standard of single women can be variable. In fact one of them at my local pub is best described as a fat pig. At least 90kg's and probably 100, wanders around naked and has been known to go around waking blokes up in the middle of the night. And only nine years old! No wonder urban people make jokes about us.
One circumstance that can be either a pro- or a con- depending on your tastes is that we have very little exposure to the more commercial variety of popular culture. Until recently, the only way that I could keep up with such things was via the Satanic Verses of Australian popular culture. Now however, thanks(?) to the glory that is 2WEB, I have been exposed to many of the fine artistes that have been thrust into the public gaze via the grueling selection processes involved in talent shows such as Australian Idol and Popstars Live. So far there has been only three that have graced the airways whilst I have been listening, Shannon Noll, Cosima De Vito and Paulini . Thank God. Or Satan. Or The Sacred Chook. Whatever. I will deal with them in order;
First young Shannon. Apart from a predilection for black t-shirts and bad hair, our Shannon would not seem to have much in common with Jon Bon Jovi. Don't tell him that, though. His single, Learning To Ride, hee, reference to recent misfortune there, sounds like it got rejected for filler material for a Bon Jovi - B -Sides and Hidden Tracks album. Only the guitarist is even worse than Richie Sambora. Still, it isn't too painful.
84 points ought to be enough to ensure the wheat and barley come to something, too.
One of the cons is that the standard of single women can be variable. In fact one of them at my local pub is best described as a fat pig. At least 90kg's and probably 100, wanders around naked and has been known to go around waking blokes up in the middle of the night. And only nine years old! No wonder urban people make jokes about us.
One circumstance that can be either a pro- or a con- depending on your tastes is that we have very little exposure to the more commercial variety of popular culture. Until recently, the only way that I could keep up with such things was via the Satanic Verses of Australian popular culture. Now however, thanks(?) to the glory that is 2WEB, I have been exposed to many of the fine artistes that have been thrust into the public gaze via the grueling selection processes involved in talent shows such as Australian Idol and Popstars Live. So far there has been only three that have graced the airways whilst I have been listening, Shannon Noll, Cosima De Vito and Paulini . Thank God. Or Satan. Or The Sacred Chook. Whatever. I will deal with them in order;
First young Shannon. Apart from a predilection for black t-shirts and bad hair, our Shannon would not seem to have much in common with Jon Bon Jovi. Don't tell him that, though. His single, Learning To Ride, hee, reference to recent misfortune there, sounds like it got rejected for filler material for a Bon Jovi - B -Sides and Hidden Tracks album. Only the guitarist is even worse than Richie Sambora. Still, it isn't too painful.
Next, the woman with the forehead, Cosima. I grew up in a farming area of Victoria that had a very large and proud Italian section of the community. I imagine most of them are right now in the process of changing their names from Gervasi and Carpenteri to Johnson and Carpenter. This woman has inflicted a truly abysmal noise on the world, without even having the Xtina style redeeming feature of having toned bits and pieces and prominently displaying them to the world. This song was one of the low points of a band that didn't really hit the heights musically to start with, but this bitch has mutilated it, even going to the extent of having some tool who can't play the guitar provide some generic - squeaky fucking acoustic back -up.
Last - and least- Paulini. Her single - Angel Eyes, should be retitled Pack - raped by Hell's Angels because that is what it sounds like is happening to her. To say it is awful is to do severe injustice to awfulness; it is far, far worse than that. I have not had to suffer through seeing this evil noise performed on TV, but I can imagine it. She would be wearing one of those billowy halter tops designed to encourage pubescent boys that one of her breasts is going to escape any second now (they never do) and a pair of those pants that look like they're held up by a clit ring. Said pants would be pulled so far up her that when she opens wide to hit the high* notes you would be able to read the dry-cleaning instructions. The performance is given emotion by pulling a face equivalent to that accompanying a fisting by a boilermaker who still has his welding gloves on. High* notes are indicated by an increase in intensity of facial expression, like the boilermaker has plugged the welder in and connected the earth clamp to one nipple and is trying to strike an arc on the other. The attendant involuntary mouth movements have an effect similar to watching a dubbed Japanese sci - fi movie. The knuckles on the hand holding the microphone are white, while the other hand is outstretched and pulled back in a rictus that supports the welder theory.
Or its very tasteful.
I doubt it, though.
*"High" is a relative term, you would need to use some fairly advanced measuring equipment to detect any actual change in tone.
posted by Dirk at 4:03 am
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