Waking Life

I watched Richard Linklater’s Waking Life the other night and what a seminal head fuck that proved to be. I was never really quiet sure if I was being drawn into the animated philosophical ramblings because of the unsteady rotoscope animation or because of the steady stream of consciousness and existential lyrical waxings of the characters or if indeed I was just slowly but surely dying of boredom. On the one hand it was a pretentious slap on the back to all involved, well done, come on us, sure we is well educated we is. One cunt trying to out cunt some other cunt. On the other hand it was like someone setting off fizz bombs in your cranium, there's only one instant, and it's right now, and its eternity.

The ongoing WOW is happening right NOW. The trick is to combine your waking rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of your dreams. Because, if you can do that, you can do anything. Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others presence. The worst mistake that you can make is to think you're alive when really you're asleep in life's waiting room. They say that dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn't you say the same thing about life? The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving.

Like the guy in movie said, I'm not saying that they don't know what their talking about, but I sure as fuck didn’t know what they were talking about.

Then again I was rather stoned at the time.

In fact, writer/director Linklater himself was quoted as saying these words before the film's premiere at Sundance: "How many of you out there are on drugs?" When a number of hands went up, he added, "Good. This is for you. The rest of you, just bear with me."

So like I said I'm not sure if I really enjoyed it or hated it immensely I think I’ll have to give it another spin and see where it takes me. It could be a subversive tool to twist my mind. At least I hope so. Although watching it twice can often prove dangerous, here is an image of what happens when you watch the movie in the wrong frame of mind ….

Rodent Wars Engulf World Hotspots

The Iran-Irag War II has already started! But this time it's between woodland critters. Evil, ferocious honey badgers are taking over Basra while Iran's state news agency has claimed that their intelligence service has arrested 14 squirrels, who were spying just inside Iran's borders. They were apparently carrying "spy gear of foreign agencies". My money's on the honey badgers though. Their fur is so loose if you were to grab it by the scruff of it's neck, it could still turn round in its own skin and rape the face off ya.

Max the whole world has gone mad I tells ya....

Independence Day or Insurgents Day?

The US are continuing to badger and mount pressure on Iran for what the US perceives to be Iran’s meddling in Iraq. The US has blamed Iran for supplying both technology and expertise to their Iraqi neighbours. The US are also accusing the Iraqi people of continuing to attempt to destabilise the current US legitimised government in Iraq by their continuing support for an illegal insurgency coupled with outside support from foreign fighters namely Iran and Syria. The US government seems unable to fathom or comprehend why the Iraqi people are so willing to support any and all attempts at removing the US from their sphere of influence in the area. Yet today of all days should make it blatantly obvious. It’s Independence Day in Yankeeland and it was on this day that a band of insurgents overthrew the legitimate government through acts of sabotage, propaganda, guerrilla warfare and civil unrest. Not only that but they were aided by foreign fighters, the French. The hypocrisy is staggering.


Max hand me the semtex ...

English Smoking Ban …

While I was over in Britland they introduced the smoking ban, not for my benefit mind you, I think they had it planned, but introduced it was and to much furore, coughing and thumping of chests. Not that I noticed much difference in the hotel bar. There were ashtrays on the tables on Saturday and they were gone on Sunday but there were no fucking people either day so it hardly registered. I watched Central News on the idiot box on Sunday afternoon and they were showing pubs in the area who had hosted all night smoking parties. The images were voiced over by a health anal-ist and it was all hazy pictures of pasty skinned people puffing away like it cured cancer and all the while the anal-ist droned on. One half dying fellow who closely resembled something a crow shit during the famine puffed away on two cigarettes at the same time. Hardcore! Then the clock struck 6:00am and they were all extinguished, the cigarettes that is, not the smokers. The news clip then cut to some waxen faced bint landlady of the Cock and Tickle or the Hole n Bush or whatever the fuck it was called. There she was all tits and ass wiping the counter while a bodiless voice asked her opinion on the smoking ban. Oh it’s awful she intoned, just awful, I’m already noticing a loss in business. What the fuck! Loss in business my hole, it was just after midday the place had only been open a fucking hour.


In Other News:

Pete Doherty discovers Cork ....

Brain Fart ....

Another busy few days in the life and times of one OhBeJoe and no word of a lie. Was over in Manchester last Tuesday which in and of itself was rather uneventful. On Wednesday morning the yellow oil light started flashing on the dash of me motor so I had a brain fart and put too much oil in my car. I just kept on pouring and day dreaming and then the oil can was empty. The car didn’t like it, nope not one little bit. It went from sounding like a smooth petrol car to sounding like a clapped out diesel after about two miles. The yellow oil light went out all right, but it was the appearance of the violently flashing red oil light that caused me some concern. I had to organise a garage and get a car rescue type person to pick up the sick motor and bring it to the hospital. When I spoke to the mechanic I explained that I suspected there might be too much oil in the engine. How much is too much he asked. About five litres I replied. Sure that’s way too much he said. I knew right away that I had contacted the right man for the job. I was back in England again on Saturday so I had to leave said motor with him all weekend. I just picked it up and all is well with the world again.

So there I was over in Newcastle-Under-Lyme, again, and low and behold if the place wasn’t all abuzz with the news that one of the would-be terrorist suspects was arrested in the area and house raids followed. I think the guys name was Dr. Bashavan or something and his bestist pal was called Sinjin Jeep. Someone mentioned that they weren’t terrorists but rather they were just celebrating Ramavan in the traditional fashion. Whatever happened, the people in Newcastle have already tried and convicted them. Guilty as charged your honour I knew by the colour of his skin that he was up to no good.

Between floods on Monday and extra security I thought I’d never get the fuck out of Britland. I swiftly exited Dublin airport and due to my car being sick I had to get a taxi home. I hate taxis and their know-it-all-sure-the-worlds-gone-mad-no-money-in-taxi’s-anymore-cos-of-all-the-johnny-foreigners drivers but the driver I had was a rather pleasant fellow who was made out of the night time. He tried to feed me dry crackers as we breezed down the M50, I wasn’t all that hungry but boy did he enjoy his crackers. If eating crackers ever becomes an Olympic sport this fucker could represent Ireland. He took out three at a time, one for his mouth and two for the dash board, for later you understand. His English wasn’t great and my Nigerian is a little rusty but we shared pleasantries all they same. Then fuck me if he didn’t flip open the compartment between the two seats and produce a 2 litre carton of pineapple juice. Again I was offered, I wasn’t thirsty but it was the cracker remnants left around the cartons mouthpiece that sealed it for me. As he gunned the car round a roundabout there was shit and snot and crackers and pineapple juice all over the shop. He apologised profusely through a mouthful of dry crackers which only added to my mirth. I swear to jaysus he must have ate a half a packet of crackers between the airport and my home and when he wasn’t crunching he was singing wee ditties to himself and you know what, I’d travel with a mental dry cracker eating Nigerian taxi driver any day. He never complained once and when I gave him a five euro tip he blessed me, my family and anybody else who I might happen to bump into.

Max hand me the Jacobs ….