Once again...
...one thing leads to another. Good
things. I'm reading Mo' Meta Blues: The World According to
Questlove. The Roots drummer is about twelve or fifteen years
younger than me, and their tour and operations manager, who
contributes, is about the same age. So there's a chance to look at
what those guys were listening to in their formative years, in
Philadelphia, then as globe-trotting musicians.
I've already been reminded to listen to
Rufus. Agreat band, with a great singer in Chaka Khan, but all about
the music and the band, and that was a better vehicle for her great
voice than the solo wailing diva stuff. There's some Stevie Wonder to
revisit and some new jazz to listen to, too.
Battle Royale
Watched this with DLL and MM. All three
of us had been meaning to watch he film for a while, so it was nice
to all sit down together. It'd be too easy to call it a Hunger Games
on steroids with a shot of adrenaline, but apart from the 'last man
standing' concept of the contest, that's way too glib and does both a
disservice.
It's a film about love, and friendship,
and death. With lots of blood, splatter and gore thrown in.
Thankfully the tory party is bit of a
cultural wasteland, or Gove might be looking at this a model for
inner city education.
Shouted from the dugout
“Shape! Lets get our shape!!!”
On a Saturday afternoon, this may mean
“think about what we spoke about, the game plan, pick up your men,
lets get tight and sensible for a bit...”
On a Sunday morning: “line up nicely,
like those plastic blokes on the table football game...”
“Options. Give him options!!!”
On a Saturday afternoon this may mean:
“you're all a bit static lads, how about giving the man on the ball
a couple of options and backing up the play a bit better?”
On a Sunday morning: “we've got a
throw-in, I'd better shout something...”
“Get a foot in.”
On a Saturday afternoon: “could
someone think about making a tackle, please?”
On a Sunday morning: “could someone
boot one of the opposition into next week, please?”
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