Author: theroyalist

Born to Run Fun in the Sun

The Bruce is 66 years young, that’s about the average age of a Charioteer. Like those said Charioteers there’s life in the old dog yet. Three and a half hour concerts are the norm. It’s a feature of his shows that fans request songs by writing the song title on a piece of cardboard. This makes the set list change every night. He also does cover versions. This keeps the band on its toes.

Warning: The following video contains joy, spontaneity, humour, comradeship and musicianship in this unplanned performance.

Julian, Gregorian, Jaydubyian

There’s never enough time to do all the chores and leisure that a human wants to do. There’s still many mountains to climb, rivers to cross, swamps to ford, twisters to outrun. More time is needed and I have the solution.

Previously, I proposed an extra hour in the day. A 25 hour day would be manna from heaven. This gives us more time but it’s as clear as daylight that this pilot plan does not fix the problem. My suggestion now is to add an extra month to the calendar. This idea is not as crazy as it sounds. It’s obviously been done before.

Consider the calendarial ber month prefixes: sept, oct, nov, dec. I’m not an expert on these things but an educated guess would be, seven, eight, nine, ten. Yet these months September, October, November, December are months number nine, ten, eleven and twelve respectively. Somebody, somewhere along the line has added a few extra months to the total. Well played, that man, I know where you’re coming from. They must have been short of time in the Dark Ages or whatever and thus made more time available. Continue reading “Julian, Gregorian, Jaydubyian”

The Trial of the Last Century

Having watched the excellent ten part The People v O.J. Simpson on TV, marred only by the miscasting of Cuba Gooding Jr. as OJ- in this critic’s eyes he’s too small to play the part, I read the book that the series was based on. The book is a real clichéd page turner. I’m not undermining the book by saying that. It is a comprehensive recount of the tragedy.

We can all recall the events of the trial and the pre-trial low speed chase when it actually happened but in hindsight this case really was something else. The book could easily pass as a piece of fiction. It’s got all the potboiler ingredients. I could name four dozen plays that would make a first down. There were dysfunctional prosecuting lawyers, duelling with themselves defense lawyers, a vain judge, a Brentwood Hello (don’t ask), racist cops, barking dogs, DNA experts (unheard of at the time), OJ’s hanger-ons, the first public awareness of the name Kardashian, XtraLarge gloves that didn’t fit, a biased jury and on and on I could go on. As the writer weaves the reader through all the entanglements it’s easy to forget that two people were murdered.

There are lots of asides in the book that the TV show missed. When the National Enquirer ran topless photos of the prosecutor, Marcia Clark, she was so humiliated she sobbed in court. Her co-prosecutor, Scott Gordon, quick as a flash jotted down a response on the paper next to her. “The Enquirer was going to publish the same photos of me but Greenpeace wouldn’t let them do it”. This made Clark smile.

The verdict went in Simpson’s favor, though once a rogue always a rogue. He is currently serving a jail term for armed robbery and kidnapping. His luck might have run out but never forget that this was a bad man that got away with a double murder.

Of Beards and Men

It seems to be de rigueur for young men nowadays to sport beards and/or facial growth. One of my sons sometimes lets the bristles grow a bit before applying the clippers. This is usually before he visits his gran and I can understand why he reaches for the cutter.

When I were butter lad (© J-Man) I toyed with having a beard. My mother shot this idea down in flames. The woman don’t like facial hair, not even a Zapata tache passes mustard. She didn’t fancy Magnum one bit. Maybe it was the actor’s name, I don’t know. Anyway, she warned me if I grew one she would shave half of it off in the middle of the night. I figured she thought men with beards had “something of the night about them”.

Therefore, my father was always clean shaven. Sometimes I know he shaved twice in a day! Wilson’s Sword! I’m not jesting if I say he might have shaved three times just to break a record, as you do. His skin was like leather. I can still hear the rasping of the open razor as he filed away at his Adam’s apple. Not one cut on his face. I think the blade was more afraid. It screeched in agony.

Thankfully, and I blame the not so close electric razor for this, I can go through a few days without shaving. It is bliss to bask with a three day five o’ clock shadow on my boat race. The horror starts when mum pays a surprise visit.

Gory details

The obituaries columns in newspapers do throw up some interesting facts and sometimes not even about the deceased. Reading the Prince obituary in the Times last week it was revealed 2 me that on account of the sexualised lyrics on some of Prince’s music a new profanity police was created. It came in the guise of a similar looking woman to Mary Whitehouse. This being was the second lady of the United States (1993-2001), Tipper Gore, wife of the veep (same years or ditto), Al Gore. It was Tipper that instigated the “Parental advisory: explicit content” sticker that prevails on CDs to this day.

Well played, the Gores. Not content with saving the planet they also are trying to save the innocence of youth. Ironically, Prince toned down his act, curtailing swearing, and became a Jehovah’s Witness.

As for the Gores, they are a couple no more. Still, nothing compares 2 em. The ozone’s got his hat on and you need to prove you’re 18 before you can buy a Cannibal Corpse record; tip, tip, tip hooray.

Overrated: Midwifery

As one that has delivered a baby in an emergency I feel I have the experience to say that the profession of midwifery is not that hard to do. The midwives are credited with an assist when the breakthrough is done. This is far too much praise as all they do is dampen the expectants brow and fold and unfold towels. If the patient needs pain relief the middies simply pour gas and air down the victim’s throat.

The cutting of the cord is no big deal either. Obstetrics is not exactly the bomb squad disposal unit, is it? There’s not a multitude of wires that need cut in the correct order, there’s just the one long umbilical. The timing of the cut isn’t crucial either. The countdown clock cliché is redundant. There’s a big time frame to play with before the snip.

My participation in a childbirth was vital even if I did find that it was a simple enough job. The young girl next door was heavily pregnant and overdue. Her boyfriend came running in a panic to my house. He shouted at me, her waters have broke, she’s screaming and I don’t know what to do. Relax kid, I said, let me deal with it. I pulled up my sleeves and readied myself for the forthcoming ordeal. Continue reading “Overrated: Midwifery”

Bucket List: Snickers to that one

While I can still run it crossed my mind to complete a marathon. Reasonably fit, for my age, with a bit of training the 26 miles would be a walk in the park for me. My feat would evoke envy in those runners that have the marathon on their bucket list. With the goal of outbucketing the bucketeers I prepared. I got as far as buying comfortable training shoes but after a few jogs I got phed up with dese and chucked them in the bin.

There’s no point in a marathon. Going pell-mell with the hoi polloi in the peloton, all those miles of torture just to fleetingly pass El Diablo and then there’s the side stiches.  Do it for charity not the glory, opined some. I do charity, I never pass a bucket in the street or shops without throwing in some loose drachma. You can do it in a chicken suit, opined others. οικόσιτα πτηνά, my left caruncle. Don’t spartan something you can’t finish, opined the do ‘ave ’ems. They were right, that’s what got this silly run going in the first place.

I blame the Persians. If only those ancient sons of Zoroaster could fight.

Reborn in the USA

The building designers of the future have their work cut out  if things carry on as they’re going. It’s all The Boss’ fault. Bruce Springsteen cancelled a concert in North Carolina over its “anti-gay” law.  The state law requires people to use public toilets that correspond to the sex listed on their birth certificates. Apple, PayPal and the Bank of America are amongst others criticising the law.

Supporters of the law said allowing transgender people to choose their restroom could lead to women and children being attacked. My proposal is that the only way to please everyone is by building more toilets. The current three outlets- men, women and disabled- are clearly not enough to cater for the modern world in all its legalised eccentricities. A separate toilet for the LGBT community should be introduced. Architects will be up all night figuring out the design for that one.

The Great Vinyl Rip-Off

A slogan posted on the wall of HMV stores proclaims, in a hubristic paraphrase of the famous Buggles song “Vinyl is killing mp3s”.

Vinyl might be a murderer but it has definitely revived the fortunes of the ailing music industry. Every man, woman and his dog is flocking to HMV to buy vinyl. It’s back in Vogue and Fashion and Stylistics. The shelves are cluttered with black plastic again. A recycled Sevenfold Nightmare. I don’t understand this nostalgia trip. While disagreeing with FEEG over the hi-definition rip-off I have to admit that the CD format is superior to vinyl.

The re-emergence of vinyl is a record industry attempt to stop the file-sharing pirates that download music for free. Seeing those record covers again and reliving Glory Days is Nirvana to a lot of soul sisters and brothers, so it’s a Gimme, Gimme ,Gimme Rush for the needle players. Me, I gave most of my LPs away while retaining the coloured vinyls, bootleg albums and rare promotional issues as family heirlooms. It pays to have a Record Collector guide book handy. Like Yazz, the only way is up for these beanstalks.

While old-timers are taking longer to Knock on Heaven’s Door maybe other brands will seek to fleece the Old Sheps from their Money and Time. Betamax could tape us to the future. Sodastream might teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. Another big lift-off and we will be Fooled Again by Ground Control putting another Man on The Moon.

The vinyl revolution won’t last but it has brought a memory revival of all things past; Melting tar on the road, running through clothes lines, eating blackjacks then sticking out your tongue, footie in the street, chapping doors and running away, climbing trees and falling out of trees…