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Interesting. I spent a little of tonight watching Takeshi’s Castle (always good for a laugh) and wondering why no-one ever wins it when, lo and behold, someone won it! Question is, what have they won? Japanese gameshows are pretty peculiar in all ways and I don’t remember ever hearing what they stand to win. Since only one contestant in over a thousand seems to win it, it should be something pretty spectacular (like a Chateau in France or a Lesbian scene between Sandra Bullock and Neve Campbell or something) but given the nature of this kind of entertainment, I’d presume something like a barbequed muskrat or a Ford Orion painted with Japanese deoderant logos or a small homeless midget trained in Geisha or something equally bizarre.

Secondly, when this finished and I couldn’t reach the remote (the main reason I ever see things that are new and odd), I watched an episode of the old British gameshow 321. I remember this very well from my misspent youth. It’s the lower end of gameshows. It’s no ‘Who wants to be a millionaire’. It’s not even ‘Who wants to win enough to buy a frozen chicken.’ It is to gameshows what Mills & Boon is to literature, or what pot noodle is to cuisine, or what Tony Blair is to politics. The one thing that amazed me, however, was the style. I used to think that was cool. Glasses lenses you could paint silver and use as hubcaps. Shoulder pads you could remove and use as wings on a model glider. Suits that made Joe Average look like Gary Glitter’s less hip nerdy brother. Mulletts! The girls were all very made-up and fake and obviously bored. The men were camp. After all, how often can you sweep your arm at something and try and catch the light with your teeth before you want to start murdering Ted Rogers? I couldn’t believe I’d lived through all this. And old enough to think it was a cool fashion. WTF? (I hate modern abbreviations, but make an exception for that one.) In the end, I settled down to laugh and thought ‘well that’s what it was like when the 70s had become the 80s and noone had discovered style yet. To my horror, in the end credits I discovered that it was 1987! I was listening to Metallica, drinking, and dating. Jeez, what was I thinking! I felt like Charlton Heston at the end of Planet of the Apes. Noooooooooooo!

Incidentally, there is no music for tonight, as I’m watching the Dirty Dozen while I type. Yay, what a movie. I very much agree with the scene in Sleepless in Seattle where the men describe this movie. They’re absolutely right. Not a girl movie (hence watching it while doing this after she’s gone to sleep.)

The latest arachnid story occurred tonight during a session of doing the washing. I picked one of mys ocks off the pile to put in the washer and it had a ‘Spawn of Satan’ on the toe-end. Reactions kicked in and I dropped it, drop-kicking it away from the pile so that I could pick the rest up (this was an average-sized spawn, not the man-eating ‘Starship Trooper variety we’ve had recently.) The sock flew across the kitchen and landed by the door in a sullen heap. I then swept the kitchen floor half an hour later and couldn’t collect all the crap I’d swept into a corner. Can you guess why? You’re absolutely right. Just before coming to bed, I went to throw the trash in the kitchen bin and the two of them are both sitting on the wall above it with a definite aura of revenge. Spiders can glower and that worries me. Nothing with more than two eyes should be able to make facial expressions. It’s wrong. The trash remains where it fell.

It’s been an incredibly busy time recently, and I’ve had quite a lot to drink (even by my titanic standards) over the last week and a bit. Yesterday, I found myself hallucinating. I fear I’ve actually been drunk for most of the week up to that point. I kid ye not, it scared the hell out of me. I was standing outside my lunchtime watering hole and trying to think of something when for several minutes I was barraged by feelings and visions so vague that I can’t actually say what they were. I just know that I wasn’t truly paying attention to the real world, I couldn’t think straight, and I’m pretty sure I began to dribble. If I’d walked past and seen me, I’d probably have given me 50p for a cup of tea in sympathy!

The world is a wacky place. The Hobbit and I came up with a number of wacky ideas today that involved joining NASA and doubling the budget so that we could build a space shuttle in the shape and colour of a giant tree frog. We could then launch it into space and await all the calls from amateur astronomers. The landing pad when it came back would have to be a gigantic lily pad.

Also, the Shiny One has suffered a virus and lost his voice. Oh. Oh, it’s funny. He’s a good mate and I feel bad when I take the piss, but you just can’t help it. You have the urge to say ‘pardon?’ just to hear him croak and gurgle the same line again. Worst thing is, he’s a phone addict (lots of them around – Mrs Moosehunter is one too) and someone with a barely discernable voice using a phone all day? Priceless. Like a blind man playing the slots! Perhaps you should learn morse code and sent a morse book to all your contacts, man? You know that annoying noise when someone presses a number while they’re talking to you on the phone? There’s your answer: Morse code. Sorry, Shiny One, but I have to get it out of my system and I’m sure you’ll get me back for it. Consider it revenge for all the comments when I turned 30 that I didn’t return to you when you did! Ahahahahahaha.

Where was I?

Ah yes, monkeys quarrying the moon…

No.

That’s not it.

I think they should remake the Dirty Dozen. It’s sacrilege I know, but picture this as a cast: Alan Rickman, Gary Oldman, Jeff Bridges, Samuel L Jackson , Steve Buscemi, Jeff Goldblum, Hank Azaria, Steve Coogan, Chris Rock, Lee Evans, Eddie Izzard, Eric Stoltz and Seth Green. I’ll leave you to make up your own mind who’s who, but I favour S L J as the Major and Steve Buscemi as the Religious Nut.</p><p>A Religious nut. All hail the nut. Kowtow and face Brazil!

Sayonara dudes!

Moosehunter.

Written by SJAT

August 20, 2009 at 12:39 pm

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