Snarky Smelly 13 Year Olds

I just picked up the new Arctic Monkeys CD (IOMI passim... some shit about music to get well pissed to) called 'Humbug', and I'm well chuffed. I have it here in hand and I'm like some old bastard who can't let go of relics or the past. I have the excitement of expectation as I look at the cover and gaze at the titles of the songs. I've heard one of the tracks, so I KINDA know what to expect, but I've purposefully maintained a healthy level of ignorance in order to enjoy this on the first listen as if it's something absolutely brand new, which it is and should be.

That is one of life's pleasures that seems to be fading. That feeling you get when you see or hear something for the first time. Nowadays, we have the ability to get our hands on shit before the completed article is even finished, which is all fine and dandy but I prefer the anticipation as opposed to the all-too-common instant gratification aspect of whatever the hell century and day and age we're in currently. I'm wholly unimpressed with the fact that some snarky, smelly 13 year old has probably been listening to this album repeatedly since mid-May. I'm honoring the bloody artists by waiting until THEY effing well feel it's ready to be released, thank you very much. Cranky old bastard? I might be.

Now the question is- When do I listen to the CD? I'm going to be busy this evening broadcasting my radio show, then I have a load of things to do in preparation for the BFS. We shall see... I mean, I know good and damn well I'm going to like it. It may take a few listens to snuggle in with it, but it's the Arctic Monkeys, for fuck's sake. They're back with new material and more music to get well pissed to. Cheers, lads.

Lots of Goals and Cheating Bastards...

I haven't written here in ages. It's about time I got back into the swing of it. I'm going to need some outlet to maintain my sanity in a month or so in a major way, and though it doesn't seem feasible, it's about to happen. Details will be shared upon the BFS, or... the Big Fucking Shift. Anyway, it's boring, Sidney, really tedious and all, so fuck all that. I have Arsenal and Little League baseball to talk about.

Arsenal- 12 goals in 3 victorious matches so far. Better than I expected and it's obvious the young players (I HATE calling them 'young guns', can we get at least SOME semblance of originality? Even though I myself mentioned it) have matured to the point where they can make a serious title run or at least threaten to bring back a shiny object given for winning several important football matches back to... wherever they put that sort of shit at Arsenal Football Club. Do they take it back to the Emirates? I'm sure they do, but I doubt it actually STAYS there. Well, they're only brilliant aren't they? Absolute quality and I'm relieved, though my cynicism runs quite deep and I fret over the clichéd 'fast start' that may fizzle out. I really have deep qualms about, say, a day in March when all Gooners will look back on the season and wonder what the fuck went wrong. Half empty? Slightly. Though unlike CERTAIN miserable, ungrateful C's, I have complete faith in Mr Wenger.



Now onto Little League. I had the odd experience of actually watching one of these Little League World Series (LLWS) games the other evening. I remember a few years back I had taken advantage of the hype over a certain amazing pitcher from the Bronx Little League All-Stars (or whatever they were officially called) and made an evening out of every game he pitched, whether in the company of other burgeoning alkies or not. The kid was astounding, just a freak of nature, being so young and so damn good. Of course, his name was Danny Almonte and he was well over-age and playing for what amounted to cheating bastards. I wondered if it made him a cheating bastard as well. Well, that's another debate for 'Hardball', in between yammering over whether the president is a citizen or not. So, anyway, I was bamboozled like the rest of creation by this Almonte kid so I dropped watching the LLWS.

Fast foward to the other night and there I was. It was some squad from New York whose players mostly had last names ending in vowels and who looked vaguely Mediterranean. They were up against some team from the Pacific Northwest, whose players mostly looked like that foul-mouthed fucker from the original Bad News Bears film.



I think I watched one full inning.

I couldn't handle it. Now, in full disclosure, I like baseball though I would have qualified as 'rubbish' at it when I was these kid's ages. And hey, there's no shame in that. Shit. I think it would have been worse to have been a Legend and to have gone downhill directly after that. Cos that sure as shit happens! ANYway, I couldn't watch because it's impossible to get outraged by the proceedings. I couldn't say that the short-stop sucked because he made a bad throw, I mean, he's 12 years old! He's not making millions, right? So it stifles my inherent need to over-react to every move (good or bad) with unbridled fury. Now that I think about it, same goes for college sports. They're not getting paid (not supposed to be anyway) so what's the point of watching if you can't call someone a 'useless bastard'?