Whuffs

For me, the internets have always been about those moments of genuine surprise. Those moments where a slow day’s aimless browsing is suddenly brought to a screaming halt by a phrase, a picture, an image, and everything is just a little different. This can be a good thing, sometimes a very bad thing. There’s always a physical response. My head comes up. My eyebrows lift. There’s frequently a vocalisation. 

I call them Whuffs, after the snorting noise I usually make when I come across them, and for the acronym they most usually bring to mind. 
Here’s today’s whuff. It’s tucked into this Wired article about Open Source Radio, a somewhat whuffy article itself. See if you can guess which sentence sent my eyebrows into my hairline.

Straight8

Thursday night brought me to the Cineworld, Shaftesbury Avenue, for the annual Straight8 night through the Raindance Film Festival. I was there to show support for my mate Nick Scott, whose film “The Other Half” was one of the top ten. As regular readers may know, Clive Sick Puppy and I also submitted a short, which got nowhere in the rankings. We’re quietly proud of it though, and I’ve had some very positive comments back about how it turned out.

The evening was great fun, with the general high quality of material I’ve come to expect from Straight8 fully on display. Intersetingly, the film that seemed most mentioned was a charming bit of whimsy called “Little Cumulus,” about a cloud that is stranded on earth, and only finds it’s way back into the sky with the aid of a hot air balloon. Not bad, considering for the most part it was footage of a guy wandering around dressed in a job lot of cotton wool…

Masses of technical problems on the night though, which surprised me no end. The first couple of films had to be shown twice, due to either being monochrome or mute, which is frankly not on. I know the quality of projection is evaporating in this country at a high rate (at a recent screening of 3.10 To Yuma I had to inform the projectionist he’d left a 1.85 mask in the gate of the projector – reeeeally long, thin pictures!) but it can’t be that hard to hit play on a tape deck, surely.

Here’s Nick’s making of The Other Half, explaining how he achieved the most technically difficult effect ever achieved under the Straight8 rules…

although The Sick Puppies went through their own personal hell in making “The Gourmand”…

Heima

I was lucky enough to be able to sneak into an early screening of the Sigur Ros tour film Heima.
It’s a stunning piece of work and, speaking as a fan, pretty much flawless. It covers the band as they toured their home country, Iceland, last year, playing venues as varied as an abandoned fish factory and a protest camp over a massive new hydroelectric dam. The music is wonderful, the images breathtaking. Widescreen sound and pictures all the way.
If I was to put my critics hat on (the grey fedora with the plaid ribbon and the inky crow quill stuck in it) I would say that it’s charm depends largely on whether you find Icelandic pixie types and their aethereal music annoying. If you do, then this is effectively an ad for the Icelandic Tourist Board, and you’re not gonna like the whimsy on offer.
I thought it was a joy from beginning to end, and the DVD is going straight on my Christmas list. I’m already raving to everyone I can about it, and I recommend that if you can get into a screening, go for it. It’s a whole different animal on the big screen.

Guys, seriously… takk.

FODDERBLOG: The Warren Ellis way with garlic

…and no psychedelics involved. Result.

Fuck Off To The Epicure Restaurant, Then

As I once heard a barman at the Coach & Horses yell at a punter.

So people keep asking, and I’m not typing it out every single
bloody time, so maybe this’ll hold you:

You take a whole head of garlic, also known as a whole bulb
of garlic.

You draw off a big length of tinfoil, twice as much as you think
you’d need to make a large pocket or bag to contain the bulb.
And you fold it in half. And then you fold it in half again to make
your double-walled tinfoil sack, wrapping the edges together to
seal it. Leaving the top open, of course.

Saw the top off your bulb, to just expose the tops of the cloves
inside. Chuck it in the bag.

Throw a glass of white wine or sparkling wine (I often use
champagne) on top. NOTE: do not cook with any alcohol
that you wouldn’t be happy to drink on its own. NOTE: some
of you would drink paintstripper out of a dead soldier’s arse.
Imagine what an actual human would consider drinkable
and act accordingly.

You may also throw in herbs to taste — I often throw a
twig of rosemary in there.

(This, by the way, is why you want to be growing
herbs on a windowsill.)

Wrap up the top of the bag tightly, because now it’s full
of booze and you don’t want it to leak out.

Throw it in a hot oven for 90 minutes — less if you want
it less creamy and with more of its garlic bite.

What’s a hot oven? No less than 190 degrees C, 375
degrees F, gas mark 5.

This goes well with lamb: you can throw lamb in the
oven at the same temperature by the following sum:
30 mins per pound/450g + an extra 30 mins at the end.
So if you’ve got two pounds of lamb in there, that’s
90 minutes. Instead of burying it under a sauce, try
pulling the cooked meat apart with forks until it’s
shredded, and then shower it with pomegranate seeds.

Serve with an inexpensive Merlot from Chile, which have
been terrific for the last three years or so, and then
leave me alone.

— W

via warrenellis.com, obvs.

(and extra nice with homegrown or young garlic, but I may be twatting the recipe up too much. Regardless, YUM.)

The Ugly Truth About Sleep

The weather has turned. Autumn is warming the colours in the trees, and when the alarm goes off in the mornings, I wake to a dark room.
This sucks, clearly. Even with the patented combat roll method that has me in the shower and wet within a minute of the clock going off, it’s still poo, and does nasty things to my sleep patterns. I notice that I have more problems getting and staying asleep at this time of the year than any other. After daylight savings kicks in I’m fine. I’m kind of used to fumbling my way to the bathroom in pitch blackness by then. But up until that point… zombie.

The Wired wiki has some interesting pointers on sleep-hacking. Mostly common-sense, but that’s never stopped me before.
Maybe I should just try the 28 Hour Day. It’ll come in handy come November, when I’m back into the cruel discipline of Novel-Writing Month

"The Strictest Law Often Causes The Most Serious Wrong."

Horror and fantasy have, as a genre, always been a scapegoat for society’s ills. Think back to the Victorian Penny Dreadfuls, Frderic Wertham’s clampdown on the EC and Warren horror comics in the 50s, the video nasty debacle of the 80s.

Now, it seems, creators of horrific or disturbing images are under attack again. And this time, ordinary law-abiding citizens who are completely unaware that they’re doing anything wrong may be as well.

Jane Longhurst, a teacher from my home town of Reading, was murdered in 2003. Her killer, Graham Coutts had strangled her to death, and police later found out that he was a regular visitor to strangulation websites.

Jane’s mother Liz, appalled at how easy it was to access this material, started a petition to ban violent pornography. She quickly gathered 50,000 signatures, and the support of an army of MP’s, including my own, Rob Wilson.

That petition has now been mutated into the Criminal Justice and Immigration Bill, set to go before Parliament next month. I’ve chosen the word “mutated” with care, as the bill now seems to have changed from a well-meaning attempt to protect us from the worst excesses of the internet, to becoming a direct assault on the makers of horror and horror fantasy images, the BDSM community and even readers of some magazines that you can easily pick up in WH Smiths.

Here’s the problem. I’m quoting section 64 of the Bill, sub-section 6:

“An “extreme image” is an image of any of the following ~
(a) an act which threatens or appears to threaten a person’s life,
(b) an act which results in or appears to result (or be likely to result) in serious injury to a person’s anus, breasts or genitals,
(c) an act which involves or appears to involve sexual interference with a human corpse,
(d) a person performing or appearing to perform an act of intercourse or oral sex with an animal, where (in each case) any such act, person or animal depicted in the image is or appears to be real.”

See the problem? It’s that little word “appears”. With that word in place, prosecuting officers using the Bill can make it mean whatever they want it to mean. There’s no distinction between the kind of nasty, abusive porn coming over the borders from Eastern Europe, and horror films like Hostel 2, or indeed the simulation of violent sexual activity that could be coming out of a consensual scenario between two lovers. Think back to the Spanner Case in the 80s, when a group of BDSM enthusiasts were imprisoned for acts that caused no-one but the group themselves any damage. All of a sudden, we’re on the brink of legalising governmental intrusion into areas of our lives in which they have no fucking business. (scuse the pun.)

The situation takes a surreal turn, however, when you take note of the material that will not be covered under the Bill. Anything certificated under the BBFC, for example. That august body is required to abide by the Obscene Publications Act, and as long as the material it sees does not breach those guidelines, it’s legal. So, going back to Hostel 2, for example, a movie that contains the kind of images that would appear to be a shoo-in for prosecution under the bill. It’s filled with images of pretty American girls being tortured and abused. It’s director, Eli Roth, is the poster boy for the horror sub-genre that lazy journalists are calling “torture porn” or “gorno.”
It’s 18 Certificated. Perfectly legal to own and watch. Indeed, the BBFC are increasingly relaxing the rules. Sue Clark, the BBFC’s press officer, has said in a recent interview with Bizarre Magazine,
“Our guidelines have changed, in line with public expectations. This time, we polled over 11,000 people across the UK to come up with the current guidelines. The public told us that adults should be able to choose their own entertainment, within reason and law, so we do not intervene at 18 certificate unless the work contains illegal material.”

So the BBFC says that adults should have more choice over the kinds of stuff they watch. The new Bill takes the opposite view, but those in charge seem to have little idea how that Bill would be policed or enforced.
One thing is made perfectly clear though. If found guilty, the maximum sentence would be “imprisonment for a term not exceeding three years, or an unlimited fine, or both.”
The question remains, then, as to who exactly the Bill will, through it’s own fuzzy definitions, affect. Certainly not film-makers who have the money and backing to get their films a BBFC certificate. No, rather, it’s independent film-makers, who distribute through the web using their own sites and resources like YouTube that need to watch out. It’s people whose sex lives are played out in front of a camera. It’s people with an interest in the darker side of the human psychspace.
In at least two out of those definitions, the Bill is aimed at people like me. And hundreds of thousands of people like me.
The Bill was born out of a genuine desire to bring something good out of an awful act. What is happening is not even the opposite. A bad situation is being made worse by bringing the law into an area where legislation already exists, or where it has no place.

There is a strong campaign against this bill already in place, and I urge you to visit Backlash and read up on the facts. The government is facing opposition from all kinds of unexpected directions, and this can only be a good thing. Get yourself heard, or run the risk of being silenced. Or worse.

Rule Comics Britannia

Comics Britannia again on Monday night, looking at the so-called Golden Age – 1955 through to the mid 70s. So the focus was on publications like Eagle and Warlord, and more interestingly, girls comics like Girl and Tammy. The sections on girls’ comics was a particular eye-opener, and deftly handled. I never realised that the great Pat Mills began his career on titles like Bunty, and the dark tone of some of the stories fascinated me. Orphan War Camp Slaves? Wasn’t that an Italian horror movie? 

I felt though that the programme skipped over the surface a little more than in episode one. Admittedly, in three episodes you can’t really do more than give an overview, but here I felt much more of an editorial hand in guiding the focus, particularly when it came to the subject of boys comics. Coming to the show as a newbie, I think you’d be under the impression that they dealt strictly with sport and war, and that just isn’t the case. 
Lion, for example, had a strong thread of fantasy and SF running through it, with strips like The Steel Claw, Robot Archie and (my personal favourite) supervillain The Spider really starting to develop the amoral vibe that would reach it’s culmination in the 70s comics like Action, and ultimately 2000AD. To skip over the stories and characters that meant the most to me as a kid was a bit of a disappointment, frankly. And I’d have liked to see a bit more on Joe Colquhoun’s contribution’s to Charley’s War. And nothing of Don Lawrence’s finest hour, The Trigan Empire! And really, no mention of TV21?
And and but but. I’m complaining, but mostly because the series is so good that I want to see more of the titles I love. I’m getting a real buzz out of the show, and I’m really looking forward to the final programme. Cue Alan Moore… 

The Craft Economy

Following on a bit from Saturday’s bitch about Fopp closing. As I hate the big chains with a passion, I’m now starting to use the web more as a source of cool stuff, and word of mouth and recommends from mags like The Word are becoming increasingly important. 

With traditional music retail and distribution going the way of the dinosaur, it’s blatantly obvious that small bands are much better off doing things in their own way. Myspace is the obvious example, but frankly you’re more likely to catch me in a dress than surfing that junkhole. Unless I get a very direct headsup to a specific band, I won’t be there.
Kudos, then, to The Craft Economy, who are using all the tricks of the new digital trade to get the word out. Posters to their local shows in Toronto have CDRs stuck to them with MP3s of their first EP, plus links to the website with tour dates, blogs and so on. If you like you can buy the album, complete with home-made covers. It’s a neat, cottage industry way of doing things, and I hope it works out for them. Plus the music’s good, which helps. Check out The Kissing Song.
Not sure if anyone’s doing anything similar on this side of the pond. The Horrors are good at throwing freebies around at their shows, including quite cool compilations, but nothing with quite this homebrew vibe.