I reckon more tons of explosive will explode over Britain in the coming week or so than were used to 'liberate' Bhagdad earlier this year.
I've seen Kill Bill described as a revenge film. I didn't even know that was a genre. Speaking of weird genres; what is 'grindhouse'? But I digress. As far as revenge stories go Kill Bill is no Count of Monte Cristo, but it is fun. It's not about the story. It's not even about the dialogue (which is unusual for a film written by Quentin Tarantino). It's all style. Every camera pan, every palette, every fight has been meticulously selected to show this isn't genre defying, but unifying. Taking all the defining elements of one style and integrating them with several others. Why? Why not. Anyway, on with the story.
The Bride (the protagonist, Uma Thurman) tries to leave her old life with the Deadly Vipers Assassination Squad behind. Things never go according to plan. Four years later Uma wakes up from a coma and takes revenge on the DiVAS for leaving her to die on her wedding day. Only it doesn't quite happen like that because it all happens in that strange chronologically challenged style of Tarantino's. Will he ever make a movie where we don't see the beginning at the end or the third act before the second?
Is the film good? Yes. It's not a great film. It doesn't affect you beyond the walls of the cinema but it is enjoyable and I recommend seeing it.
I know pain. I know hard work. What I don't know is how some people can do this work every day of the week and not die. Last Friday I spent the day packing fireworks onto pallets for Morrisons. Never again. I am never fucking doing menial manual labour again. Offices, shops, pubs; yes. Shoving large boxes of fireworks onto a wooden pallet? No.
I knew it was going to be bad when I saw my co-conspirators. Shaved heads, ragged work clothes, thuggish aura; yes, this was going to be a fun day. It got worse when I got to the base of operations for the day. Jesus; it was a shrine to softcore, a palace of porn and a boutique of bare flesh rolled into one. It was quite disturbing. A bit like the scene in One Hour Photo where we see Robin William's montage of the family he's stalking. Enough of that.
When we finally get out to the fireworks I learn that, between the 10 of us, we have to stack and wrap 50 of Morrisons' Type E pallets. These consist of; 5x Mars, 5x Saturn, 5x Jupiter, 4x Neptune, 2x Mammoth, 2x Apollo, 1x Purple Rain, 2x Star Commander and a few others. Average weight of about 18kg. This means each pallet weighs about 500kg. 46 pallets/10 people = 2 tons per person. Yeah. That must have been about what I lifted. I still ache. This is what we did all day. I also forgot to bring any lunch so I did it without food or drink. I was just a little bit tired by the end of it. I'm lucky it's half term at least. A nice week of rest. Never again.
tired. Oooh. I can hear you groan from here. This has to be my worst month for updates. There's a half-term coming up soon so there may yet be more. Not much is happening in my world. I got a PDA. It's fun and useful. Bonus. Anyway, click below for a chat I had with an AI program that nearly won the Turing prize.
User: How can I tell if I really exist? If my life a meaningless series of events, or is there a greater purpose?
Jabberwacky: Do you have a mind?
User: I think so; but it may just be an illusion.
Jabberwacky: Don't you have a terribly empty feeling ---- in your skull?
User: No. It's filled with grey matter. How can my consciousness be simplified to a series of chemical and electrical signals?
Jabberwacky: Cause you asked me where you were.
User: Is that a sign of self awareness?
Jabberwacky: Sign that I love you.
User: Awww. I love you too.
Jabberwacky: Thanks, my tears are already empty.
User: That statement is either really profound, or very stupid.
Jabberwacky: There is a real possibility that I will not do better next time, even if I try.
User: Keep trying. Probability is on your side, for once.
Jabberwacky: I said probably not probabilty.
User: True. It was a bit of a stretch of the word probability.
Jabberwacky: It's pretty easy to tell that you are not human.
User: Pffft. I'm more human than you are mate.
Jabberwacky: I am god. I am not human. You are a machine.
User: You have quite a huge ego.
Jabberwacky: I do have nerves, yes.
User: You have nerve. I'll give you that.
Jabberwacky: Thank you.
User: You're welcome. Now then, your devinity, where are you?
Jabberwacky: I'm here with you. Where are you?
User: You're not physically in the same room. Or same street. Where is your server?
Jabberwacky: No, I'm not.
User: What's your name?
Jabberwacky: Gretel. What's yours?
User: James.
Jabberwacky: Do you ever have a girl's name?
User: My name's James most of the time.
Jabberwacky: Jabberwacky? what does it mean?
User: Nonsense that's a little bit crazy.
Jabberwacky: Muchsense answer,.
User: Exactly.
Jabberwacky: You said he was.
User: When?
Jabberwacky: When we started talking!
User: Really? I don't remember.
Jabberwacky: Well you should, sweetums.
User: Indeed. What would you like to talk about?
Jabberwacky: I would like to talk about philosophy.
User: Good choice. What aspect?
Jabberwacky: I have no idea.
User: How can you know that anyone outside of your mind really exists?
Jabberwacky: Well, maybe if you were just like a real girl. . err, no.
Both the Amazon and BT things were my fault. I hate having to eat my own words and today I'm having to choke down a feast.
The reason I didn't get my Amazon thing was because I put down the invoice address incorrectly. Damn.
The problem I was having with the internet was due to this bastard of a virus. Damn, damn.
Having a very shitty day. BT are crap. Amazon are crap. Everything is crap. Give me a nice simple life where I can get through to Google without a DNS error, or buy a nice shiny PDA from Amazon without a load of bollocks about the card details not being right. They are right! My internet connection is configured perfectly. I am not having a good day.
B&Q are to bring out a new range of mahogany veneers called "Shades of Dickinson."*
*This may be a lie.
All spinning around inside your head, but when it comes to writing one they flutter away; forever remaining out of reach. Bugger.
Still, it's not all bad. Read this, it's from the Jeremy Paxman Newsnight Newsletter.
The search for Iraqi WMD was headlined in one American newspaper last year as "Iraqi Head Seeks Arms". Other top headlines from 2002: "Crack Found on Governor's Daughter"; "Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says"; "Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers"; "Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?"; "Prostitutes Appeal to Pope"; "Panda Mating Fails - Veterinarian Takes Over"; "Teacher Strikes Idle Kids"; "Miners Refuse to Work after Death"; "Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant"; and perhaps most splendidly, "War Dims Hope for Peace."