recepticle=Friday, August 26, 2005
what a day what a day
i haven't really had very much to write about over the past couple of weeks, if you discount a less-than-good haircut, having to bury a lady who accidentally died after an accidental stabbing in the face, and a minor hostage situation.
but all that has changed over the past few days; so much so, in fact, that i'm going to dub this plagiarism week. that's right, i've been the target of not one, not nine, but three accounts or ripping-off in the last seven days. let me recount:
case #1: the writer
purely by chance, i discovered someone who has word for word ripped off a couple of my posts. in this case i'm not going to start pointing fingers, for two reasons; 1) the posts they ripped off weren't even vaguely interesting, and b) i lost the link.
bloggers like alexandra kleeman get this kind of plagiarism all the time. for literary plebs like me, it's as flattering as it is exasperating; for people who are as prolific as they are talented, it must be slightly soul-destroying to constantly have little pieces of your brain stolen away and eaten by theiving little word-squirrels.
case #2: the artist
as i am wont to do, i prettified my myspace profile last week. this involved long, useless hours hunched over my computer, trawling through acres of hypertext and putting together nifty little snippets of code, as well as propping my eyelids open with matchsticks as i drew the graphical elements. imagine my surprise when i discover that some sixteen year-old journalism student has ripped off everything i did, making ham-fisted semi-retarded edits whilst wearing a pair of clown-gloves.
again, i shall not be linking to him; since i confronted him about it he has apologised profusely, twice, and has removed all traces of his 'flattery'. talentless little pissmidget.
case #3: the face
okay, so this isn't a current act of online thievery so much as a revisited matter. you may recall that a few months ago, i made a big deal about a guy on myspace having stolen my photos and using them on myspace and livejournal for at least two years, pretending that it was him. i thought the only decent thing to would be to contact everyone he knows and tell them all that he was a big fat fucking liar.
well, it turns out that he's making a comeback. i'm in the process of hunting down his email address, and from there i will extricate his co-ordinates and target elevation, and then proceed directly to firebombing his home and loved ones.
- posted by lawrie at 2:28 PM ~ comments
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
manos: the hand of fate
i'm listening to her name is calla right now, so you should go and sniff their behind.
once you've finished doing that, you disgusting pile of puke, you should go and see ok go's 'a million ways' video because it's fucking awesome.
then you should come here and lick my boots.
- posted by lawrie at 4:39 PM ~ comments
Monday, August 01, 2005
welcome to stonybridge
with only three more dates on our tour left to go, i thought i might take this brief respite to tell you about our best gig ever*.
(*we are, of course, playing the opposites game)
on friday we travelled further than any man or monkey, out to the barrens of northwich in cheshire, on our last date with locus of control. we turned up a little while after locus, pulling into the car park of a british region smack in the middle of suburban hell. "it's okay," i tell myself, "it's probably a real venue disguised as a british legion." and i was nearly right. it was actually a british legion disguised as a youth club.
after setting up in a venue that was tastefully decked out in what can only be described as 'seventies-bingo-hall-falling-apart-crap', a huge slew of people came through the doors, all of whom had apparently been queuing outside to get in. since we were first on, we jumped on stage and played out our very short set. we were unable to hear anything beyond the six or seven people near the stage clapping, and we couldn't see anything at all, so when jim from locus came on stage after us and said "i though that went down well", we only had his wry smile to tell us that something was very, very wrong. locus had seen something, and they weren't going to stand for it. what follows is a near-verbatim transcription of what spencer of locus of control said during their set. i have never seen them better. or funnier.
locus launched straight into their first song, with me and the rest of the band standing near the stage. i looked around to find that we were the only ones, and that everyone else was apparently fifteen years old.
locus finish their song, and spence looks out into the 'crowd' and says "so how you, then? you all enjoying your lemonade? nice and strong like your mummy makes it? this is our next song, it's called 'suck my fucking cock, you pricks'."
i was practically dying with laughter, clutching onto my stomach and trying not to collapse with hysterics. their third song was preceded by: "it's all about the music, isn't it? it's not about your floppy fucking fringes, or your studded belts with your trousers around your knees, or your stripey fucking socks - it's all about the fucking music! rock and fucking roll!" and just before their fourth song, "if any of you can get served, i'd love one."
i should perhaps mention that before anyone performed, the entertainments manager for the local council got on stage and told the assembled teenyboppers that the legion was operating a 'one-person-one-drink' policy, because there had been complaints from the local residents about drunken teenagers. i'm not at all surprised, considering that as we were loading everything back into the van, an 8-year old scouser who had apparently dropped out of a cartoon was trying to convince locus to let him have a drink because he'd had schnapps and wkd before.
as mark and i packed the last of our stuff in the van, a very drunk fourteen-year old girl stumbled from behind a metro, where she had either a) been sick, or b) had a wee, either of which is disgusting. walking in the most erratic line i've ever seen, she said "did someone throw somethin' at me?". i looked at her pathetic struggle with gravity, immediately forseeing a future for her of grandchildren at the age of nineteen and a considerable drink problem, and told her "god did. because he hates you." which was immediately followed by some frankly bizarre diatribe about our australian origins.
if you didn't know how fucking rock northwich was, you do now.
- posted by lawrie at 1:51 PM ~ comments