Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts

Wednesday 8 July 2009

TV Obsession


If it's not one thing it's another. TV needs an obsession these days. Luckily Michael Jackson died so we could then endure wall to wall coverage of the loss of one of the most over rated singers for years. Famous less for his meaningless song and dance routines than for his demented and very confused personality. Living proof indeed that fathers need to do their job properly! While there was some nodding acquaintance with the occasional dead soldier from Afghanistan or Obama meeting the Russian leaders and curtailing thousands of nuclear warheads, we return quickly to Los Angeles and the hangers - on around the coffin. BBC, Sky News, and elsewhere indulge themselves with live coverage of the PR stunt designed to ignore the questions nobody wanted to ask. Like what did go on with the small boys, and who is the father/mother of his 'children? Instead we have hours of singers, mostly black, ensuring they are seen to be where they need to be seen whether they really cared or not.

Cynical? Oh yes! A showman dies in the United States and his family come along to mourn or attempt to reclaim their boy. No wrong in that in itself, although the show outweighed the reality. Emotion to the fore while there will be a fight for the money behind the scenes. What with all the hangers on and empty noise from an abundance of 'must be seen' persons, praises and tears from fans I confess I am left feeling cold. The solemnity of the returning bodies of 'our boys' who fell in a different life however fills me with admiration, not least for the self control of the young wife watching her man come home - in a box. TV however does not use the latter to fill their 24 hour screens, but a dead pop singer is an obsession with nothingness that can be enjoyed.

Today the funeral is over but the English are once again obsessed,this time with Cricket! Yes cricket! Rounders with two bats to you and me
(rounders is what Yanks call Baseball for some reason unknown). More importantly to the English this cricket is what they call 'The Ashes.' In the days of long ago they started challenging the Australians to cricket matches. This proved popular and today this is something of huge import to those whose brain seized up during primary school days. It is claimed that after one defeat by the Aussies (apparently the English lose quite a lot in this contest) the visiting captain taunted his opponent by declaring the "Death of English cricket!" If only....

Later some women presented a small urn containing some burnt material, some claim it could be a bail, but a more reliable voice insisted it was a woman's veil, appropriate for those who play this game I would say. TV executives see cricket, and especially the 'Ashes' as important. Wall to wall coverage is however limited as the 'England & Wales County Cricket Board' stupidly sold the right s to Sky, so most folk cannot see it! This does not stop them talking about it everywhere however.

England of course is awash with arrogance, especially when they perceive the Aussies as having a weak side. During the last meeting England won, celebrating with a meeting with the slime ball Tony Blair in Downing Street and an open top bus tour of London. Dearie me! They only won because one of the Aussie world class bowlers was injured and the victory was meaningless, but don't tell them this. They are England and therefore they are bound to win!


Their self belief to the fore England has turned its enmity on the Welsh. Playing the first test in Cardiff the English object to the Welsh national anthem being played before the game, and instead demand their own! Imperialism is never far from an Englishman. Imagine being in a foreign country and demanding your anthem is played! England does! In fact the organisation
behind this goes under the name 'England & Wales County Cricket Board,' so why not play the game in Wales, and why object to their national anthem? Imperialism, no other reason. Funny how there have been Welshmen in the team, and South Africans, Pakistanis and even Scotsmen, sometimes as skipper, but please don't play the game in Wales or mention their anthem! TV however is obsessed with cricket. The anthem is debated, the pitch, the weather, the stadium, the history, the people, the past people, the ball, the bat, the 'silly mid off,' and all the rest over and over on all the channels. Today the game actually got under way, and the Aussies are well on top. There could be another five test thrashing in sight for England (& Wales). This would be sad, wouldn't it? Tee Hee!

Saturday 27 June 2009

Saturday Musings

I must confess to some cynicism regarding the death of Wacko Jacko.

The hour by hour coverage made me turn off, and the weeping girlie's brought some cynicism to my mind. While they cry from pain I suspect there are many boys crying for relief there will be no sleepovers there!

Poor sad Jacko, poor childhood, too much money and no sensible folk to turn to. No father figure in his life, at it appears not one that was of much use. When folks refuse to have a father, or insist two male/females can act as parents hey ignore the way we are made! Mind you, having said that I am left wondering what colour he was when he died? Somehow I suspect the phrase 'brown bread = dead' was never used, or am I cruel?

No doubt he will be reverenced for ever by some but I truly do not understand the fuss. I am happy not to comprehend young folks music, or their liking for weirdos, but Jackos song and dance routine was in my view meaningless pap. The videos represented an emptiness that music in the 60's never possessed. Then there was a meaning to music, a desire to change the world for the better, in theory if not in fact. Since the mid 70's music has been mostly self serving, getting worse with each decade. The occasional flash of something outside this occurs, punk for instance but that too was a meaningless grab for money!

Maybe it's just me......

In the meantime, while avoiding tennis or Michael Jackson conspiracy theories, I have spent the day in fantasy land. No, not like that, but dreaming of a house I saw in Edinburgh, well Leith actually, shock horror! if only I had around £400,000 going spare I could have changed my life for a while. I checked my accounts, £2:20 in, my pocket, a cider jar half full of copper coins and a few small silver ones, a credit card bill that Alistair Darling would be jealous off, and an overdraft that makes me shudder, especially when two bills arrive this week! I can see me "dwelling in the realms of fantasy Jones" for a while yet.