The Imaginary Review

A new blog, a new beginning

2011-05-04T14:00:00.002-04:00

I don't know if The Imaginary Review is still listed in anyone's RSS feed/Google Reader/whatever. Heck, maybe there's a group of die-hard fans somewhere who check back every day, hoping, begging, praying for some more hilarious made-up nonsense from the mind of the Imaginary Reviewer.

Well, if they are, I have good and bad news for them.

First, the bad news: It's been over a year now since I posted my last Imaginary Review. I've thought about restarting the blog and I've tried coming up with new ideas, but to no avail. What started out as a labour of love became a chore and with other commitments it just fizzled out. I think it's time I stopped procrastinating and formally ended it; that's what I'm doing here.

But now, the good news: I have a new blog. It's so similar to the Imaginary Review that it's practically plagiarism. Hell, in some cases I have plagiarised the IR. It's called Fake Obituaries, and it lives here: http://fake-obituary.tumblr.com/. As you may have guessed from the title, I write obituaries for people who never existed. I'm trying to update every day, and right now there's 40-odd entries. So if there's anyone out there in the great wide world who misses the Imaginary Review, you could do a lot worse than check it out. And if you're already a member of Tumblr, follow me.

Finally, I want to say thanks to everyone for the support, the laughs and the friendship I received over the course of writing The Imaginary Review. It was a good time, and I met some really great people, and found some really excellent writing. So thanks to you all, and good luck!

Music Review Co-Blog with Beckeye

2010-02-23T16:41:00.006-05:00

Hullo chaps. This review is a co-blogging effort with the very very lovely Beckeye, who you may know from such websites as ThePopEye and StarPulse. Beckeye approached me a while ago with some ideas for a review. She had made a load of albums via the Random Album Meme that was going around a while back, and asked if I wanted to review them. She named the bands and records, designed album art, came up with song titles and named the bandmembers all using random methods involving Flickr, Wikipedia and other websites. Heck, the only thing she didn't invent were the release dates and barcode numbers. With such a wealth of information, how could I refuse? Here are the results of our collaboration. Please enjoy.

New Album Round-up

The urge to creativity is a strong one, and the wave of musical inspiration that flowed through Mozart, Lennon, Peter Cetera and the Vengaboys continues to bash against the rocks of artistic endeavour. New music is being released every day, like kidnapped bank tellers from a building besieged by snipers after a failed robbery attempt. This week I was sent some brand new music to listen to and appraise with all the flair and wit for which I am famous.

First up is veteran prog-punk dance-rock quintet Magnatune, with their umpteenth album Faith in the Future. Opening track ‘Symplectization’ is eighteen minutes of heavy-assed flute/glockenspiel cockrock shebangabanging, with brassic beats and bleary-eyed bassline thumpery added to the mix for extra mmmnice. It’s a great track, but sadly almost identical to the opening songs in their last four albums. In fact, all of the music seems to have been wholly taken from previous releases, including stand-out track ‘Health Insurance’, which is just ‘Cesar Catli’ from their debut record played backwards by an angry trumpet.

Verdict: Nice songs, but about as original as supermarket own-brand cornflakes

The term ‘Gutblasting Teutonic Chickrock’ is thrown around so much these days, but it has never been more warranted than in the case of Zündels Abgang, the latest German Grrrrlcore fembunch. Their debut album, Saying what we Know, is more rocky than Rocky Balboa eating Rocky Road ice cream while sitting in a quarry. From opening track ‘Dosinia Maoriana’ to closer ‘Flying Guillotine’, this album grabbed me by the balls and wouldn’t let them go until I’d given it all my sweets. The only down-note was ‘Languages of Australia’, a song that the band’s drummer, Carissa Cantu, wrote while under general anaesthetic.

Verdict: I like it, now can I have my bike back please?

Ask the average person on the street what they understand by the term ‘math-rock’ and they’ll probably run away because I forgot to put pants on. American Front’s new album, Hindsight is Always Twenty-Twenty should be their answer, though, because it’s the most clever, dorky and embarrassing album ever released, and as a result epitomises math-rock in a way no words ever could. When listening to songs like ‘Bachelor of Business Administration’, ‘Aradle Mental Hospital’ and ‘Swimming at the 1996 Summer Olympics – Women’s 200 Metre Butterfly’, I feel like I’m being pounded on the head by a musical calculator. It’s a disconcerting experience, because I feel like if anyone sees me listening to it they’ll wedgie me out of spite.

Verdict: 2 + 2 = Poor

Individual Computers Catweasel are a Brooklyn duo made famous by the fact that their song ‘Pando’ was featured in a commercial for Gap Jeans. Their new album On You Like Wolves is highly anticipated, and music lovers will not be disappointed. Timothy Dwain Huff and Ian Hughes have worked hard to ensure that every single song on this album will be suitable for car, computer and clothing commercials, from the gentle, swaying ‘Pacific Coast Railway’ (just right for a Toyota Yaris ad) to the rocking ‘List of Career Achievements by Tiger Woods’ (soon to heard when Apple try to sell you an iPod). The television commercial usefulness of this album would make Moby blush, so you might as well not bother buying the album, because you’ll be sick of the songs by April.

Verdict: Just Do It.

The Imaginary Review’s Top Ten Films of the Last Decade

2010-02-03T17:04:00.003-05:00

Drop everything. Put down that piece of pie and read this. For I have spent the last four months doing nothing but watch every single film from the last ten years, whittling the whole lot down into one easily digested list and it would be imbecilic not to enjoy the fruits of my hard work and labours.

After 119 days in a darkened room with nothing but a television and DVD player for company, I give you: The Essential Films of the Noughties.

10: James Bond and the Chocolate Factory (2009)

Daniel Craig’s third outing as the eponymous secret agent saw him infiltrate the secret lair of a shady businessman (Johnny Depp) who was producing addictive confectionary. This film had even more midgets than its predecessors, and plenty of daft weaponry to keep the hardest Bond-nuts happy. Who could forget the chocolate-riverboat chase scene? I can’t wait for the sequel, James Bond and the Great Glass Elevator.

9: Disney’s The Little Racist (2001)

Both thought-provoking and fun, this story of a bigoted earthworm in a world full of biodiversity was a surprise hit for the up and coming animation studio.

8: Meet the Pschitt-Fockers (2005)

While some critics moaned that the franchise was losing its way, this sequel to the popular comedies Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers saw the cast visiting the extended family in Europe. Ben Stiller and Bob De Niro reprise their old roles, with new appearances from Philip Seymour Hoffman as Handfulla Pschitt-Focker and Amy Poehler as Pschittypschittyarsecrapboobstwatpissypissyswearwordsarefunny Pschitt-Focker.

7: Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson Doing Lots of Things that You Wouldn’t Expect Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to do (2008)

Ho ho ho! This family film was lots of fun, as Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson) did lots of things you wouldn’t expect him to do, like walk on a tightrope while carrying a baby, dress up as a girl with full make-up and hang-glide off a mountain while singing Mmmbop by Hanson.

6: Utility Knife (2007)

When Blake Twitshelf (David Chunderbung) wakes up chained to a rock in a strange room with nothing but a utility knife and a CD player blaring Billy Joel, he realises that he has become the unwitting participant in a twisted game. Does he have what it takes to cut his own ears off before he goes insane? Grisly but gripping.

5: Whatever Happened to Three Men and a Baby Jane? (2002)

This psychological thriller sees Tom Selleck, Sam from Cheers and Cory Haim (replacing sadly deceased original cast member Steve Guttenberg) confined to a house after a car accident. They depend on their sister, played by the shambling corpse of Bette Davis, who is abusive towards them and makes them eat rats. I liked this film because it’s always nice to see Tom Selleck in extreme discomfort.

4: Gaping Muff-Chutes 4 (2007)

Say what you like about this film, but I really liked it.

3: Twenty-Seven People Whose Lives are Quite Independent but who are Brought Together by a Random Event that Prompts them to See the Similarities Between Themselves (2004)

For much of this film I was quite confused as to why I was being made to watch these people with their independent lives going about their aforementioned independent lives in totally independent ways. But then when the random event occurs, I could see that they were all fated to meet and holy shit that totally blew my mind, bro. Starring a veritable Benetton commercial of B-list actors.

2: Wotcha Cockney Knees-Up on the Old Apples an’ Pears wiv the Old Joanna, Innit? (2002)

While some critics dismissed Guy Ritchie as a one-trick-pony, the director himself proved them wrong with an entertaining crime caper set in Lahndahn wiv real Lahndahners, innit. Sir Georgeington Douglas-Smeltsbridge starred as Bob “Shifty Bricks” Jones while Lord Asquith Givenchy-DeGoosehelmet co-starred as Ebenezer “The Geezer” Beezer. The dialogue was fresh as a butcher’s hat while the action scenes kicked more arse than a parrotful of donkeys.

1: Creationism: The Musical (2005)

No film typified the return of the musical genre than this, the inspirational tale of a group of people unfettered by logic, reasoning and good sense. While ostensibly a love story at heart, this film captures hatred in a way no other film ever has; hatred for gay people, for women, for poor people, for racial minorities, for people living in other countries, for anyone other than themselves and for themselves. And what musical numbers! Everyone was singing the wonderful songs such as I Can Shout Louder than You (So I Must Be Right), He May Be an Obese Drug Addict But I’ll Still Love Him in a Totally Non-Gay Way and Who Would Jesus Hate?

The Best Albums of the Decade

2010-01-13T17:18:00.001-05:00

So sure, by now you’ve read Pitchfork/Rolling Stone/Now Toronto/Good Housekeeping and their lists of the top albums of the last ten years. Well, as they say in Ghent, we’re saving the best for last. Since November I have sat in my apartment doing nothing but listening to every single album released in every single country since January 1, 2000. And my God, it was worth it. Here are my picks for album of the decade, by genre.

Rock: Fuzzchomp Soundgesture by Cataclysmic Bendystraw (2005, Enterprising Buffoon Records)

Nothing ever came close to CB’s debut from five years ago. The lyrics were so meaningful that all the words in the songs have been banned from use because they will never again have such depth of evocativeness. The guitar sounds were so angular that more than twenty people were cut by sharp noises while listening to the album on headphones. The drums were so rhythmic that some women’s biological cycles attuned to them. This was the sound of the now, the moment, the second, the instant, and Cataclysmic Bendystraw made it sound like it was the future. And it was, in a way.

Honourable mentions:
Gosh, New York is Rather Splendid by The New York Band from New York (2001, New York Records)
Dave Grohl Side Project by The Dave Grohl Side Project Band (2007, Flummoxed by All These Buttons Records)
Hey! Where’s Dave? by The Foo Fighters (minus Dave Grohl) (2007, Record Label Recordings)

Dance: Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Di-Rewind! by DJ Caddyshack Two and MC Finding Nemo (2003, Wickida Wickida Wack Records)

DJ Caddyshack Two and MC Finding Nemo really were the success story of the noughties. Their humble beginnings as palate cleansers in a New Jersey restaurant led to the biggest selling dance music record ever conceived, with more breaks, beats and funny whirring noises set to steady rhythms created using electronic music machines than any other album. My stand-out track is the one featuring a female vocalist repeating the same line about going out and partying throughout the song.

Honourable Mentions:

Is it Hot in Here or ARE WE DANCING OUR FACES OFF? by DJ Sarcastic and the Yeah Rights (2008, Milton Milton Recordings)
Embarrassing X-Ray by Microphone Insertion (2008, 2008 Records)
The Alex Mack Theme Tune Remix Album by Various Artists (2002, Nickelodeon Records)

Soul/R&B: Girl, I’m Going to Smother You in Lemonade Because the Fridge is Empty and I Forgot to Buy Sexy Smothering Foods by Bo D. Lee-Fluid (2008, Ouch! Records)

No album was sexier than this. Current estimates are that 45% of all children born since 2008 were conceived to this album; indeed, add animals to the equation and the number could be even higher. From ‘Second Wind’ to ‘Have some Kleenex’, all tracks are smooth, sensual and seductive, like that guy who took all my fine art. The only bad song on the album is the unfortunate ‘Girl, Why is there a Bulge in your Pants? (feat. Lady Gaga)’

Honourable Mentions:

None. They were all terrible.

Metal: Grrrthhhrrr NNnnnnggggnnnnrrrrthhhrrr by Ian Derwent and the Lazy Susan Trio (2009, Prawn Sandwich Recordings)

Many were surprised at the quality of this metal album, given that it was recorded by a 60-year-old crooner with three even older ladies backing him up on piano, glockenspiel and coronet. But it really was an excellent record, from the opening track ‘Pissing in the President’s Wound’ to album closer ‘Do you Mind Awfully if I Turn it Down?’ Metal will probably never be the same again, not that it ever was.

Honourable Mentions:

The Bad Man Took My Pens by Feast of Carrion
Some Older Boys Said a Mean Thing by Blood Corpse Death Angel
I Hurt My Leg When I Fell Off the Trampoline by Anal Leakage

The Decade in (Imaginary) Review: Video Games

2010-01-07T12:55:00.001-05:00

My God. It has been a busy, busy few weeks. Here’s the thing, chaps: I had been planning to write a post about my top ten video games of the last decade, but I didn’t comfortable doing so until I had played every single video game from that period. So for the last two months, I have sat down and played – to completion – every single PlayStation, PS2, PS3, Xbox, Xbox 360, PC, PSP, Wii, N64, GameCube and GBA game released since 2001. It was a massive task, but someone had to do it.

When you read the following, my ultimate top ten videogames of the last decade, I’m sure you’ll agree it was worth the bedsores, lost family time and thirty pounds of gained weight. Here’s the list:

10: Parkour Sniper (PS2)

A surprise hit amongst older people and the French, Parkour Sniper was released in 2005. The game is viewed from a first person perspective, and your task is to take out the agile young people jumping around the city landscape using a special light gun. A lot of satisfaction can be derived from waiting until they have made their way to the top of a tall building and offing them, watching their lifeless body bounce off the railings and flagpoles below.

9: School Dance Revolution (Arcade, PS2)

The best of the dancing games came as a surprise to most. What nostalgic fun this was! As a (computer generated) inept DJ span terrible music, the aim of the game was to stand at the side of your room for as long as possible. Later levels included awkward shuffling, surreptitious alcohol smuggling and teacher avoidance. The two player game, in which you had to be rejected by the other gamer in as cringeworthy a fashion as possible, was an added bonus.

8: Grand Theft Auto: Headbutting Authority Figures (PS3, Xbox, PC)

Finally, a GTA worth playing! None of that rubbish carjacking or drug dealing, just finding authority figure after authority figure and giving them the old ‘Glasgow Kiss’. Fun for all the family!

7: Movie Tie-In: The Video Game (PS, PC, Atari Lynx)

This sprawling RPG saw you take control of a video game designer given the task of adapting a new movie for the console market. With different playable characters, an excellent fight system for beating up annoying middle management types and levels of difficulty depending on the film being adapted (from ‘action/adventure’ to ‘period drama’), this game stood out in a time when RPGs were shite.

6: Nomihodai no Umeboshi (PSP)

Available only in Japan, this tragically overlooked game makes the list to show how amazing and extensive my knowledge of video games is.

5: Cowbell Hero (PS2, Xbox)

Who needs guitars? Nobody, when you have cowbells! Altogether now, “We need an increase in cowbell! I have an illness and the only thing that can cure it is an increase in cowbell!”

4: Jetpony II: Stumplegs (Every muthafarkin’ system)

The sequel to the popular platform shooter begins when Jetpony wakes up after a night on the town to find that his legs have been removed. Luckily, he still has his jets, and everyone’s favourite Shetland Pony goes on a murderous rampage to try and find his missing limbs and the bastards who took them. Quite possibly the goriest game ever made, and all the better for it.

3: World of Carpark (PC)

In 2001, Lizard Games released Carpark, their first garage-based rpg. It was mildly popular. Then, in 2007, they released the follow-up, a massively multiplayer online car park simulator, and the world rejoiced. Who can forget the first time they chose their character and set foot in that fabled land of disabled spaces, angry attendants and harried mothers? Sure, it could be daunting for the newbie, having to deal with older players who had levelled up and can do a three-point-turn on a sixpence, but this was as rewarding as online gaming was ever likely to get.

2: Tiger Woods Pun Simulator (Xbox 360)

Sure, it’s a brand new game, but making ‘Wood’, ‘In the Rough’ and ‘Leg-over par’ references will never get old! This game will run and run and run!

1: Help! I’m Trapped in James Cameron’s Nose! (PS, PS2, PS3, PS4, Atari 2600)

The best game of the last ten years, bar none. What more can be said? There is more playability, replayability, satisfaction and depth of gameplay in this release than every other game made in the last century. Escaping from the famed director’s nose is challenging, yet the difficulty level and enjoyment means you’ll keep trying to find your way out of the conk. My God, I’m going to go back and start it again, I can’t get enough of this game.

So there you have it. The best games of the noughties. But what do I think will be big news in the 2010s? Here are my tips:

Mummies: Zombies and vampires are old news. Egyptian undead sarcophagi-dwellers are going to be huge in the coming years.
Baccarat: Televised baccarat is gaining popularity, so expect to see lots of tie-in games.
Robots made of meat: I don’t know why, but this is my dark horse.
Benjamin Netanyahu: I’ll be honest, I’m out of ideas.

The Last Few Weeks in Review

2009-12-07T15:46:00.003-05:00

I’m sure you’ll all agree that the period of time including the month of November and the beginning of December 2009 has been one of the most creative, side-splitting and intellectually verdant of the Imaginary Review’s history. Indeed, not since this blog began, more than two years ago, has there been a period containing as many well-written and interesting reviews of the calibre of those of the last few weeks.

For that reason, then, I think you’ll forgive me for indulging myself in a bout of recent nostalgia and self appreciation.

At the beginning of November I reviewed a batch of music merchandise that I had been sent in the past. Readers will recall my excellent analysis of the Rhianna-branded umbrella, which was “quite nice to look at, but quite useless for its intended purpose of rain-hindrance, given that it is made of fishnet stockings.” I was more complimentary towards the Jonas Brothers Acne Cream which, when applied to the face and neck, gave me a “tingly feeling not unlike that of realising one is reaching the apex of puberty.” My favourite comment on this post was by new reader Andrew, who said “I don’t get it, is this real, lol”.

An analysis of the latest reality TV shows came next, and I looked at programmes like Neck Swap, Pimp my Kidney and America’s Next Top Public Defecator. My favourite was What? You Think You Can Dance? Yeah Right. Prove It. No, Go On. Prove It. Dance For Me. Dance For Me. No, Dance For Me. See, You Won’t, Because You Can’t Dance, You Liar. In the review I said that “the ultra-aggressive attitude of the judges is refreshing to see, and many a hopeful contestant has been reduced to tears before even reaching the stage. The fact that many of the people trying out are as young as eight only adds to the pleasure.”

In that post, I didn’t reply to all of the comments I received, so I will attempt to fix that here, with some personal replies.
Mr London Street: You can, but you have to remove the false moustache first, otherwise they may take a swipe at your face.
Katrocket: I agree with you in principle, but I think the probability of seven people all falling into the trap at once is a little unlikely.
Beckeye: You’re wrong; I’ve never been to Norway.

My next review, of the new Cirque Du Soleil show Guttenberg (which chronicles the life of the popular actor from his appearance in the Police Academy films to his tragic death while filming 3 Men and a Baby Whale) contained one of the finest sentences ever written in the English language: “If I ever see another stilt-walking clown attempt to do handstands on a high wire again, I’ll saw all his limbs off.” I have been contacted by the Oxford English Dictionary people, who want to put it in the new edition as a definition of “Brilliance”.

Last week I reviewed the new romantic comedies for the holiday season, such as Colin Firth’s The Awkwardly Uptight Englishman Who Falls For a Fast-Talking American Girl and Has to Meet her Family at Christmas with Hilarious Results. My favourite part of this movie was when Firth stutters a lot and looks awkward while his girlfriend (Jennifer Garner) shows new facets to her personality when in her home setting. Also recommended in this post was the new Sarah Jessica Parker/Matthew Broderick film, The Man Who Married a Horse.

Finally, to respond to some personal emails I received regarding these posts, I would like to say the following:

Yes, I’d love to mention Tungsten Steel Wedding Bands in my blog, because they’re both stylish and durable.
I keep telling you: I’m married, and so are you.
You know the one! Of course you do! It’s the one that goes “Na na na na naaaar…na na na na nuuuuuur!” Don’t tell me you don’t recognise that!

Coming soon I shall be counting down some of my highlights of the last decade, as is customary towards the end of years that end with a '9'.

Finally, I’d like to remind everyone that it’s not too late to vote for me as Blogger of the Year in the Annual Drysdale Awards. If you haven’t already done so, I’d be very happy if you’d show your support, even if other people have been cheating.

I'm not dead

2009-11-24T11:43:00.001-05:00

FYI.

Special Halloween Costume Guest Post

2009-10-28T11:07:00.002-04:00

The Imaginary Reviewer has never been trick or treating in his life, as his father forbade him from taking part, claiming that it is “a form of begging”. In order to get into the spirit of the time, he has asked his 8-year-old nephew, Graham, to review some of the newest costumes for this year’s frightfest. Take it away, Graham!

Hello I am Graham and I am 8 and a half. Uncle Reviewer asked me to write about costumes and said if I didn’t then he wouldn’t give me any Xmas pressies so here I am.

This year I am going trick or treating as a vampwolf. If a werewolf bites a vampire on a full moon he turns into a vampwolf and can fly and that’s what I am on Halloween. I will have teeth and fur and go grrr and chase everyone. Gregory Simms says that vampwolfs don’t exist but I don’t believe what he says because he says he saw a baby come out of his sister but I don’t think her mouth is big enough to eat one whole so he’s a liar. When I am a vampwolf I will bite Gregory Simms and he will fall over and die.

Lots of people in my class are going out dressed as accordions. They’ve got buttons and make noise and everything. I don’t like accordions because they make a really horrible noise that sounds like the pigeon that Malcolm Beswick’s Dad ran over and wasn’t dead yet but Malcolm Beswick’s Dad got a spade out of the back of the car and hit it and it stopped making a noise and I saw its brains. That’s why I don’t want to dress up as an accordion. They sound like death.

One boy in my class is going out for Halloween as a Pea Salesman. He will dress up in green clothes and have a big metal tray full of peas. I told him that a pea salesman is not even a real thing but he said that his Mum said they used to have pea salesmen when she was a girl but I think she didn’t want to buy a real costume. She probably found the peas on the floor because his family is poor and they can’t afford to waste peas. This is a stupid costume and I hate it.

Another popular costume this year is Nobel Prize-winning economist Milton Friedman. I think this is the scariest costume of all because Milton Friedman’s wrinkled face and bald head remind me of the unstoppable march of time that will carry us all down the path of history towards the unexplained infinite blackness of death. Also I find Friedman’s economic policies to be highly flawed but Julie Blackbury says she is dressing up as Friedman because his policies were influential and beneficial. I told Julie Blackbury that tax lowering as a tool of stimulating economic growth is empirically proven to be less effective than increased government spending but she said that the Friedman-inspired Reaganomics of the 80s ultimately recovered the US from stagflation but I said that the country would have recovered anyway without Friedman’s statist and totalitarian views and that the 2007-8 economic crisis was a direct result of Friedman’s policies and then I put a worm in her hair and she ran away.

Graham’s regular entertainment column will be appearing in Now Toronto Magazine from November 3rd. The Imaginary Reviewer had to fix a lot of the spelling in this review, and so Graham will be getting a Christmas present as promised, but it will be rubbish.

The Imaginary Review Visits Another Magazine

2009-10-26T16:33:00.002-04:00

Some of my more long-suffering readers will remember a review I wrote a while ago for a music documentary entitled Behind the Music: The F Sharp Minor Story. It was then, and remains now, I am proud to say, one of my finest reviews.

Around a year ago, excellent Toronto online magazine Feathertale asked me to expand upon it and include some other documentaries, in a feature-length review for their website. After much editorial handwashing, arguments about payment, tears, walkouts and blackmail, the full article has finally made it to print.

So here, now, finally in print, is my expanded article, in which I look at documentaries focusing on F Sharp Minor, the 8-Bar Drum Intro and the Baby/Crazy Rhyming Couplet.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Music Documentaries for a Saturated Landscape.

Pens! Pens! Pens? Pens!

2009-10-20T17:44:00.001-04:00

As long as there are Post-It notes, there’ll be pens. The reason for this is that Post-It notes won’t go through a printer; instead, they’ll stick to the rollers and clog it up in a mass of yellow semi-adhesive inconvenience forcing office workers everywhere to snarl and curse and cry and hate their lives that little bit more. So as long as people need to pop an easily-removed note on top of a pile of documents that says “Greg, check the Montalban a/c and sign off, thanks! Debs”, there’ll be pens with which to do so.

Ian’s Marvellous Pen Company have released a brand new line of pens, and I checked out their blue pen. What a pen this is! With overtones of velvet, canard and frangipane, and a rating of approximately 18 kiloblots per square inch, this pen is quite simply a joy to use. It’s especially good when drawing circles, and by example I mean Venn diagrams, balloons or cowpats.

Don’t look now, but there’s a new ballpoint pen on the block, and it looks mean! Penny Pennington of Pennsylvania’s Pens (both the Writing Kind and the Animal Holding Kind), Inc are building a name for themselves with their take-no-prisoners writing implements. The red pen I tested was very good when it came to marking essays (performing extremely well on margin utility and spelling error underlining), but was quite deficient in marking multiple choice quizzes. The ticks and crosses were both very poorly defined, with abysmal conviction vectors; they also had a worrying taste of limpet.

A word of warning: Watney Heckbulb are advertising some new pens at excellent rates for mail-order purchasers, but don’t be taken in. Customers are actually being sent chalk, and when they receive telephone complaints, customer service representatives just repeat what you said but in a high voice, which is really annoying.

On paper, the new Dervish QV7 is a terrible pen. However, on other surfaces, it’s excellent. It draws exceedingly well on orange peel, bricks, sponge (both kitchen and bobsquarepants), chips (US and English), fannies (US) and bums (UK). Granted, if you ever attempt to write on a piece of paper with the QV7, it will fall apart, but as long as you remember this it should serve you well. I highly recommend it for scribbling an insult onto a potato and throwing it at a nearby Jesuit.

Finally, Shugborough-Tweedle have created a single-use disposable pen for suicidal people. Each carries enough ink for one letter, and it writes wonderfully. Sadly, though, I found that it does tend to run out quickly if you ramble on about how you thought your life would get better once you’d had the patio refitted and nobody noticed your new hairstyle even after they told you to make more of an effort if you wanted to make Janice jealous after she ran off with Marcus, although she shouldn’t blame herself because before you met her your life was a barrel of rotten pigs’ trotters and she’ll always be close to your heart.

Pens come from the shops. Other things that come from the shops include newspapers, sausages and plants. Things that you won’t find in the shops include graddical flumes, twingmar delobets and corporeal nattttttttttttttttttwhips.

I am Somewhere Else Today

2009-10-18T10:03:00.003-04:00

Hello chaps and chappessesses! Today I have crossed the pond over to the excellent Mister London Street's blog, where he has posted a review I wrote of a holiday I didn't go on recently. Please go and check it out if you haven't already, and if you're not already following Mister LS, I recommend you do so as he is a writer of the utmost calibre. Oh, and he's British, so you know he's ace and quality and has a great accent like mine.

Seacrest out.

The Journal of the National Society of Obvious Studies

2009-10-14T14:20:00.000-04:00

The National Society of Obvious Studies meets twice a year to engage in enquiry that is of the utmost importance to humankind. They attempt to answer questions that people ask every day, often without hearing a response. The Journal is the collected findings of this eminent group. Published annually, it is available to anyone who is on a special list.

This year, there are many important discoveries and intriguing studies. Take Professor Sturgeon Heseltine’s exceptional paper, On the Excretory Habits of Forest-Dwelling Ursine Creatures. Five years in the making, this study shows an amazing level of dedication to stating the mundane. Prof Heseltine was relentless in his quest to discover what woodland bears do with their waste products once all nutrients have been absorbed from their food. With the aid of two dozen research assistants and keen students, the good Professor travelled the world to observe the animals in their natural habitat.

With methods such as “watching the bears” and “looking for poop”, Professor Heseltine has amassed a great wealth of evidence to support his conclusions. Now the world can sleep soundly at night, safe in the knowledge that bears do indeed shit in the woods.

The studies in the NSOS Journal are not limited to zoology. Theology is also covered, with Denizen Balabroit’s paper, An Investigation Into the Religious Inclinations of High Ranking Papists.

This paper sheds exciting and much-needed light on the personal beliefs of the pope: his faith, his spirituality and his philosophy. With over a hundred pages of supporting documents, from personal letters to diaries and shopping lists, Balabroit builds a case for his findings with stunning levels of detail and rigor.

And what findings they are! From his opinions on birth control, the existence of an all-seeing and knowing sky-creator, and the transubstantiation of communion booze and biscuits into the actual blood and body of Christ, there is a lot of evidence to suggest that the Pope is Catholic. Balabroit goes into far more detail in the paper, and it is well worth a read.

I don’t have enough space to discuss the other excellent papers in the journal, but another one worth reading is Diphthong et al, On the Appearance of the Visible Atmosphere with respect to the Light Spectrum, which concludes that the sky is blue. Less successful is Spengler’s piece, entitled, Is the Atomic Weight of Cobalt 58.9? I fear Dr Spengler has failed to enter the spirit of the Society with this paper. Maybe next time.

Book Review: The Logic Problem Puzzle Compendium

2009-10-08T13:11:00.001-04:00

The Logic Problem Puzzle Compendium is the latest in a long line of popular books, though, having read through this one in the space of an afternoon, I am unable to say from where their popularity arises.

More like a series of short stories than an actual narrative, I was bemused by the events making up the book, and could not find a way to connect them. Indeed, they seem like nothing more than a disparate series of situations and comments about them! On one page I read of children doing different things in order to make money (selling lemonade, babysitting, mowing the lawn, etc), and then, when I turned the page, eager to see how the events unfolded, I was confronted with an entirely new situation, about Christmas presents being bought for family members at various locations. What happened to the children? What became of their money-making schemes? Presumably the author (un-named, I hasten to add) wishes us to guess the outcomes for ourselves!

The laziness of the author does not end there. There is no semblance of character development or literary technique in this book whatsoever. In chapter six, for example, we are told that “John did not go to the party with Mary.” Why not? What had Mary done for John to spurn her party invitation? More to the point, who are John and Mary? It continues: “Nigel (who isn’t a banker) attended the party with the Estate Agent.” What kind of scene setting is that? How are we, the readers, expected to use this sparse description to come up with any sort of interior picture of the story?

And don’t get me started on the so-called ‘illustrations’ adorning most of the pages. Almost identical childish grid-like structures appear almost everywhere within the book. Presumably this is the author’s idea of a suitable accompaniment for a publication that lacks content, narrative structure and any merit whatsoever.

A truly awful book from start to finish.

Imaginary Debate Review

2009-10-06T10:06:00.002-04:00

A good debate can be likened to a game of chess. Taking this simile further, truly exceptional debaters are like grandmasters, anticipating their opponent’s future actions several moves before they have occurred, trapping them into positions of weakness with the Queen of Syllogism and the Rook of Logical Infallibility. Before long, the Counterpositional King is held in the checkmate of self contradiction, and the debate is handed to a worthy victor.

I was lucky enough to witness one such contest week, in a public forum, and it was clear from the onset that this was a debate that could be likened to the famed Fischer-Spasky chess matches of the 1970s. For such was the argumentative éclat of each party that I was left breathless with heady appreciation.

The debate began with the position “You never let me do anything”. Taking the ‘pro’ stance on this was Veronica Blatherwick, while her mother, Rebecca, took the ‘anti’ stance. The location of the debate was the exterior of the Safeway Supermarket in Ashdon-Under-Lyme, a very public site which allowed the maximum number of people to enjoy two capable debaters at the height of their powers.

The began conventionally, with Rebecca outlining examples contrary to her daughter’s position, including letting her go to that party at Graham’s house instead of visiting her Nan after she’d had that fall. Veronica countered this with a list of examples supporting her own position, such as not going to Thorpe Theme Park and not being allowed beer with her pub lunch.

While these tactics are less than outstanding, they formed the basis for a thrilling discussive competition that included all the staples of a momentous debate. The oft-misused Jenkins Forward-Reversal was utilised to great success by Veronica, while Rebecca showed herself to be a master of the Rogue Phoenix Gambit, a technique first described in Sun Tzu’s famed “The Art of War of Words”.

The contest reeled like a drunken Irishman before the older combatant created a negative retraction from her opponent, forcing her to acknowledge various instances where Veronica’s own neglect had led to the removal of privileges. Known by experts as “Wittgenstein’s Knob”, subsequent personal research has failed to yield a better example of this debating manoeuvre.

Sensing herself on the ropes, Veronica threw out one final desperate gambit, the “You never loved me; I bet you’re not even my real mother” technique. Opinions are divided as to how best deal with this tactic. Conservative thought rests on the “Stop being silly” rejoinder, which does have a risk of ending the debate on a stalemate. Here, though, Rebecca desired no such result and, sensing the weakness of her opponent, called her bluff: “It’s true. You’re adopted. Your real mother didn’t want you so I got stuck with you.”

As a debate-winning manoeuvre, this is unbeatable, and all witnesses agreed that Rebecca ended the argument as clear victor. Whether the price of that victory – long-term emotional damage and seething resentment on the part of the loser – was worth it, remains to be seen.

Veronica and Rebecca will be engaging in another debate at their home in Welch, on Thursday at 7:00. The topic of this one will be "If you think I'm letting you out looking like that, young lady, you have another think coming".

Theories of Everything

2009-10-01T16:41:00.003-04:00

One of the goals that science has tried to achieve in the last few centuries is a unified theory of everything. Such a theory would explain everything there is to explain, like ‘what is wood made of’, ‘how many legs does a fly really have’ and ‘why do people watch The Hills’.

So far science has not been able to find such a theory, with most attempts falling at the wayside like a fat kid on a cross-country run. It seems to some scientists that maybe science doesn’t have all the answers after all, and maybe there really is a magic sky pixie who wants us to eat Jesus Biscuits on Sundays and hate gays. But that hasn’t deterred some of the finest minds in the planet, and their new theories are reviewed below.

Many people have heard of String Theory. This is the view that everything is made up of tiny strings that are actually waves which exist in an 11-dimension multisomething. Superstring Theory is very similar, but it’s faster, you can control the end bosses and Chun-Li can shoot fireballs. Neither has really taken off, but maybe Sillystring theory will.

Everybody loves webcomics. This one from is xkcd.com. The inclusion of a picture in this post will hopefully encourage people to keep reading, despite the prohibitive amount of text.

Sillystring Theory is the idea that everything is actually made up of multicoloured foam. According to the theory’s main proponent, Doctor Isabella Cartography, if you look inside the nucleus of any atom, you’ll first see a tiny man unaware of the futility of his own solitary existence, and just behind him you’ll see sillystring. This material wobbles slightly (like the aforementioned fat child) and the differences in wobble (known as “tremble disposition”) cause matter to take different forms.

While this theory makes perfect sense on paper, when you actually vocalise it there are numerous contradictions that make the universe collapse like a fat kid being made to run around the school field on a wet November morning. For example, at a recent conference, Dr. Cartography explained her theory to a room full of boffins, and all of them turned into steam. It just doesn’t work.

Slightly more successful is Stanislav Dögel’s Unification of Gravity, Quantum Mechanics and Hotdogs. This theory assumes that gravity is a constant force, that observation on a quantum scale is subject to a probability cloud (in which more probable outcomes form denser parts of the cloud), and that hotdogs are delicious. Under these assumptions, calculations have proved that all matter, force and temperature can be reduced to a single substance that is not affected by the ‘time’ variable. Furthermore, supposed paradoxes of quantum mechanics are pushed aside using eight-dimensional probability matrices. And ketchup and mustard are mathematically proven to be the best accompaniment for hotdogs.

I do like this theory, but it is weakened by the fact that it only works if the number six is brown and wears a coat.

Finally, the Bisley/Steiner Theory of Everything posits that everything is, like, connected, in this kind of invisible way, and that everything you do is, like, connected to everything else and when you do something, yeah, it, like, affects other things, although maybe not in this big way that’s like noticeable and stuff, but the more things you do the bigger the effect is on other things, and so eventually it becomes noticeable and that’s what deja vu is, man.

I can’t say for sure whether this theory is correct, but on a purely theoretical level it would explain a great deal about humanity and our interactions with the world. Preliminary tests have shown that the B/S ToE is accurate on a quantum level, but whether it is applicable to a sub-quantum level (with quarks and shit), is yet to be seen.

There are also rumours that Bisley and Steiner are working on a follow-up study in which they update their theories to include the fact that some Cheetos would be, like, awesome right now.

Oh My God it’s a Toronto Fashion Week Preview!

2009-09-23T13:32:00.001-04:00

Next month it’s Toronto Fashion Week, a superb opportunity to check out the latest in trousseaux, millinery and gussets. All the venues are wiping the blood from their catwalks and replacing the dead light bulbs in their dressing table mirrors in preparation for this essential civic event. But before the designers start running around in a panic with pins sticking out of their mouths and tiny chapeaux on their heads, many houses are having special preview shows here in the city. I sneaked in and watched, like that kid in Madonna’s Open Your Heart video.

The first show I watched was by French designer Jacques Du Plex. His spring collection, entitled “Herbs I Have Worn” is full of luxurious lavender, with balsamic undertones. The skirt lengths ranged from ‘serpentine’ to ‘insane’ on the Kupwatt scale. A highlight for me was a hat that looked like a glockenspiel and which fell off the model’s head as she walked down the catwalk, nearly killing Mick Jagger.

Menswear was the name of the game for The House of Ian, and their suits were of the highest calibre. With an asymmetry that can only be described as ‘oxymoronic’ and playfully obtuse lapel angles, I loved these works of wearable art. Even the shirts had an unmatchable pillion density, which is an added bonus in these harsh climes.

What about Elizabeth’s Classified Information, I hear you ask. Well, the saucy underwear manufacturer was out in form, with a great range of tights and bodices made of molluscs. Women everywhere will be able to tempt their man into bed with the smell of cockles and mussels when the new collection is released in November. Oh, and great legs.

Derek’s Vests was a surprise hit with fashion-mongers and –istas. Some of their models were wearing blue vests and red vests but I was quite fond of the cream-coloured vests and maybe also the yellow one. At the end Derek came out on a motorcycle and we all cheered.

As usual, the collection by Colander-Upshot Studios was a disappointment. When will they learn that nobody wants to wear shoes made of coral any more? And their petticoats were woefully badly made, with a tawdry two inch tartan pattern and no hint of glebe on the wrimples. Don’t get me started on their gas masks, either. Utter shite.

For me, Pierre LaPierre will always be synonymous with the 2002 show in which his models walked the catwalk while covered up in large sacks and described the clothes they were wearing when they got to the end. This year LaPierre has gone one step further and had no models at his show at all. Instead, the designer himself appeared and answered yes/no questions about the items in his collection. From what we could gather, the new range will have some green skirts, there’ll be a hat in the shape of a wasp, and Pierre was thinking about a man who is in the entertainment industry but not an actor.

Finally, enigmatically-named designer :Blism: had a show that totally underwhelmed. His pastry-inspired creations didn’t even look like clothes (except the profiteroles, which kind of resembled a muumuu), and some of the models fell over in the slippery cream that dribbled off the first choux bun. Even the music for this show was crap, a kind of faux-gangster rap-pop made by cretins for cretins with no human emotion or sentiment behind it. Ugh.

Toronto Fashion Week will last for approximately seven days and famous people will sit at the front and try to look pensive but fail because the only thoughts actually rotating around their skulls involve wondering how they look on camera and the best way to promote their new sex tape without actually coming out and mentioning it. For tickets call that guy who works in the mailroom who always has tickets for things.

Television Review: Llost

2009-09-17T13:49:00.004-04:00

Now that popular American cop drama Law and Order has an English spin-off, it seems that the time has come for more UK versions of US shows. Plans are already underway for CSI: Bromsgrove and Las Vegas: Blackpool Edition; producers hope that they will fare better than Jodrell Bank – Above and Beyond, which was cancelled after one episode in the 1990s.

The BBC’s most eagerly awaited new American inspiration is Llost. Based on a popular US show, Llost opens with a man waking up to find that he has been a victim in an airplane crash, and that he is stranded on a small island off the coast of Wales.

While the island is no more than a rock in the middle of the sea, barely a square mile in area, there is more to it than meets the eye. For example, in the first episode our intrepid hero espies a clan of mysterious creatures. What could they be, with their oddly shaped multicoloured faces and weird ways of walking? Upon closer inspection we discover that they are puffins.

A puffin, for those who have never seen one before.

Another feature of this island of the damned is a strange large black cloud that looms over it for much of the series, adding to a sense of dread and foreboding. Our hero agonises over the meaning and intentions of the mysterious entity for some time, and the mystery is not solved until episode seven when it is revealed that the cloud is full of rain.

Throughout the show we are treated to flashbacks of the man’s life, when we see all sorts of coincidental things related to Wales and islands. In one flashback, he buys a CD by Tom Jones. In another, we see him consider a Hawaiian holiday. The only exception to this trend is episode nine, which contains flashbacks from one of the puffins. To be honest, this is one of the weaker episodes.

I won’t reveal all of the secrets to the show here, but suffice to say that for each question that is answered, many more are asked. Like, what is all that brown foamy stuff that washes up on the rocks each day? Does the island exist outside the normal laws of time or does it just feel like that because the days are so boring? And, is it possible to eat rocks?

Llost is certainly a show with promise. Whether it will match the success of the American original remains to be seen, but the episodes I have seen are full of ennui, despair and existential suffering: just what the UK television audience expects from its drama series. Indeed, an episode of Llost is nearly as depressing as a half-hour of Coronation Street or Eastenders.

Llost, every Tuesday at teatime. For more information on Wales and Welsh Islands, please visit the Welsh Tourism Hut, or see their website at www.walesisnotasdepressingasyouthink.com. If you interested in puffins, or would like to adopt or befriend a puffin, the police would like to hear from you.

Album Review - Leonard Cohen: The Remixes

2009-09-14T11:55:00.004-04:00

Leonard Cohen’s contribution to the world of dance music cannot be overstated. Since his appearance as guest vocalist on the acid house anthem Gimme Ecstasy (Take it Higher) by DJ Marvellous in 1989, the Canadian troubadour has been synonymous with big beats, thumping basslines and hardcore rave.

That said, it is somewhat surprising that nobody has seen fit to compile the dance remixes of Cohen’s songs until now. Few artists have appeared on as many twelve inch white label releases as he, and the compilers of Leonard Cohen: The Remixes must have been faced with a daunting task when they tried to select an album’s worth of tunes.

So for that reason alone, the producers of this compilation are to be lauded. They have pulled off a remarkable feat here, and the album must rank among the greatest dance albums of all time, alongside Elliott Smith Live @ Gatecrasher and the impossible-to-find Tony Bennett vs Felix Da Housecat bootleg.

Take the Armand Van Driver remix of Suzanne, one of Cohen’s best-loved songs. The soft, almost whispered vocals and arpeggio guitar are really accentuated by the chunky 240 bpm bass and newly-added vocal accompaniment on the chorus from what sounds like an angry robot with a sore throat.

While Suzanne is still recognisably Cohen, some other remixes take the balladeer’s music to entirely new places. Famous Blue Raincoat is another fan favourite, but DJ Malty Treat’s remix removes most of the lyrics, the guitar and the backing vocals to make it utterly unlike the original. Consisting of the line “Famous Blue Raincoat” sampled and repeated over a melody created by the sound of drills breaking up concrete, it’s fair to say that this remix, while danceable, takes the song way beyond the one that Leonard wrote.

The main selling point of this album is the remix of Halleluiah by DJ Ubiquitous Ocelot featuring MC Caralarm. It was impossible to escape this track in the clubs of Ibiza and Agia Napa in 2002; for many clubbers it was the song of the summer, and high chart positions over the world resulted. Due to a copyright issue over the use of a Glenn Medieros sample in the track, it could not appear on any compilations until now. And what luck this is for us! With uplifting European house beats and a hint of happy hardcore in there for good measure, the secret chord that David played and which pleased the Lord (but you don’t really care for music, do you?) never sounded better.

Not every track on this album is as good as the ones mentioned above, though. DJ WasBobSagetsDaughterinFullHouse tries to give True Love Leaves No Traces a sparse drum n bass makeover, but it falls flat. From this tune, it’s clear that the songs of Leonard Cohen are really not suited to minimalism.

All in all, this compilation really succeeds in showing the danceable side of Canada’s favourite dour singer/songwriter. From the high-speed German techno gabba of DJ Kuntz’s Avalanche remix to the melodic house of The Dub Waiters’ version of Don’t go Home with your Hard-on, there’s something for everyone here.

Leonard Cohen: The Remixes by Various Artists is released Tuesday on Dance, You Twats! Records. A special double vinyl gatefold edition is available with free dancefloor and doorman. Mp3s can be downloaded for - heh, get this, they’re expecting people to pay for it, the naïve fools - $6.99 from the record label’s website, which I couldn’t be bothered to look up. Just Google it.

Summer Kittens: Part 2

2009-09-09T20:42:00.002-04:00

I'm in way over my head here.

I'm supposed to be reading a page of The Little Kittens and the Gumdrop Garden by Norris Squee every day. For those of you who a) didn't read the last post and b) are too lazy to scroll down, I'm doing this in order to finish the book by the end of summer and get the same feeling that the people reading the 1000+ pages of Infinite Jest over the summer must feel.

But it's hard going.

The first page almost finished me off. I lost count of the number of times I had to read it in order to understand it fully. From what I can gather (and the depth of meaning here has left me with the impression that I'm missing some layers of interpretation), there were some kittens. And these kittens were little.

I will confess. This blew my mind. I was thinking that maybe I would be able to read more than one page on the first day, and possibly get ahead of myself, giving me some leeway. But now I see that this was optimistic bravado. I couldn't get my head to understand this first page, and I had to lie down. This could also have been partly due to the pictures in the book; many of them have so many colours that looking at them for any length of time is like pressing my eyes into an LSD-laced box of rainbows.

God, we haven't even entered the gumdrop garden, and I'm already thinking I've bitten off more than I can chew. I need a rest.

Summer Kittens: Part 1

2009-09-07T14:29:00.004-04:00

I just discovered the website Infinite Summer. It's basically a project in which people try to read David Foster Wallace's epic novel, Infinite Jest, in one summer. At more than a thousand pages long, the book is apparently the ninth longest in the English language. It also has copious endnotes, and contains massively long sentences and words you've never heard of and have to look up if you're going to understand. Because of this, the 75 pages per week needed to get through the book over three months is pretty heavy going, even for those crazy people who can read entire novels in a weekend.

I would quite like to read Infinite Jest, but I've come in too late to really attempt to it before the end of summer. However, I do like the idea of blogging my findings as I go through a book, so I've decided to try another work instead.

Before the summer is out, I, the Imaginary Reviewer, hereby proclaim that I will have read The Little Kittens and the Gumdrop Garden by Norris Squee, before the end of summer. That's sixteen pages, all of which I have to have read before September 22, a rate of one page per day.

It's a big task, but I'm pretty sure I'm up to it. I'll post regular updates here if I can manage to fit that in between reading. Wish me luck!

My Wedding: Imaginary Reviewed!

2009-09-02T12:09:00.001-04:00

As many of you know, I am finally no longer living in sin. Yes, I am now a husband in the eyes of both God and my wife, the two things I fear most in the world. Just kidding! I don’t believe in God.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. As I mentioned before I left, we got married in Hawaii, on the picturesque island of Maui, which lends itself to all sorts of wedding-related puns, none of which I will subject you to here.

The location of the wedding was absolutely perfect. Our setting was a beachfront plantation house with gorgeous views and all-you-can-drink seawater, and the ceremony itself was sheltered by tall, majestic palm trees. Only one guest was maimed by falling coconuts, and his family was treated to a complimentary deckchair.

As my bride and I stood there in front of our friends and family, we listened intently to our priest trying to make himself heard over the sound of the waves, the wind and our weeping bank manager. It was that point when I looked at all our happy guests, my beaming bride and the caterers setting up the tables for the reception, and a big, contented smile ran across my face. Yes, I thought. This is a truly wonderful day. This is a day that I will remember forever, a magnificent and auspicious day. For today I can reveal to my guests that while I told them that there is an open bar, it is actually a cash bar. They may think they’re getting free booze, but I’m not spending a penny on their alcoholism.

You should have seen their faces.

After the ceremony, Mrs. Imaginary Reviewer and I had our photos taken by our excellent photographer (whose thumb is so well-structured that we don’t mind its appearance in most of our shots. In fact, it’s an improvement on my face in many of them).

During the reception, we opened the floor to anyone who wished to make a speech under the strict condition that they did so while trying to avoid a barrage of crossbow fire that my wife and I sent their way from the head table. There was only one taker, and Great Aunt Helga should be commended for her excellent oration and impressive (but not impressive enough) ducking and weaving skills. She will be sadly missed.

Many of our guests informed us after the wedding that they enjoyed the food greatly. In fact, they almost enjoyed it as much when it came back up again, hours later.

Rather than have a DJ at our wedding, we decided to save money by having an iPod reception. We would recommend that anyone doing the same thing should get a dependable, responsible (and preferably sober) person to control the music. As it was, due to my Uncle Vigo’s inebriation and unfamiliarity with new technology, our first dance was to a medley of songs by Extreme Noise Terror and the first twelve seconds of The Macarena repeated sixteen times. The reception carried on mostly in this way, with interesting musical juxtapositions being created between disparate acts such as Alien Sex Fiend, Dolly Parton, Napalm Death and Falco.

After the wedding was over and the landowner had chased us all away with shotguns and dogs, my new bride and I retired to our condo, tired but happy. It was at this point that the marriage was consomméd. After adding a mixture of ground meats, egg whites and tomato to our marriage, we simmered it for a while and then filtered it. The result was not entirely what I was expecting, and I can’t really see what the big fuss is over marriage consommétion. I’m told it gets better with time, so I think Mrs Imaginary Reviewer and I should try again some time. It does make a mess of the bed, though.

So now we are back to the reality of Toronto, with the smog and the raccoons and the unending despair that comes with each day that Now Toronto refuses to respond to my daily begging letters. Thanks to everyone who has sent me congratulatory messages, normal Imaginary service should be resumed shortly!

I'm Back! And More Married than Ever!

2009-08-30T21:00:00.003-04:00

Mrs and Mister Imaginary Reviewer, just after tying the knot

Hey chaps, I'm back from Maui, a great time was had by all and Future Mrs Imaginary Reviewer left the "Future" part of that name in the grounds of a plantation house by the sea. I have about five hundred blog posts to read (or skim, or just click "Mark as Read"), so please forgive me if I don't comment on everything just yet.

Oh, and have no fear: the wedding will be imaginary reviewed.

Finally: The following people did not update their blogs while I was away, but please do not take this to mean that we are one and the same: Falwless, Words Words Words, John Hodgeman, my Brother-in-Law, G. Henry. Thank you.

In which the Imaginary Reviewer apologises for his absence

2009-08-06T15:40:00.002-04:00

Some of my more eagle-eyed readers may have noticed a bit of a lessening of my Imaginary Output recently. I'm sorry for that, but there are good reasons, which I'll come to shortly.

Sadly for you, the fans, this dearth of review-based hilarity will continue for a few more weeks, with (hopefully) occasional posts added intermittently.

The extremely good reason for this recent and upcoming radio silence is that on Monday I shall be boarding a plane bound for a small island that rhymes with "Howie", where I'll be staying for several weeks. My reason for going? Well, let's put it this way: In two weeks' time, Future Mrs Imaginary Reviewer will have lost the "Future" part of her name. I'm sure you'll agree, this is exciting news, especially as it makes things a bit easier to say.

So for the next few weeks any posts will be ones that I've written in advance and posted to the future using Blogger's super magical future blogging tool. My comments on your blogs will be even more rare than they are at the moment. But I promise I shall return, a wiser, more tanned and more eager Reviewer, ready to tickle your chuckle spots with my inane rantings.

On that note, I shall say: This isn't goodbye. It's merely see you later.

The Musical Economics of the Barenaked Ladies

2009-07-30T16:53:00.003-04:00

Professor Dexter Duncan of the London School of Economics is one of the most eminent thinkers in the field of Musical Economics. His 1970 paper, A Third Staircase (Just for Show): What Could I Buy If I Were a Rich Man?, was a sensation and is credited with starting the Music Economics boom. Duncan’s most famous paper, Living in a Material World, explained the ostentation of the 1980s fiscal music scene.

Duncan’s latest work, If They had $1,000,000, is another grand project of aural economic analysis. In it, he tests the theories laid out by the Barenaked Ladies in their popular 1992 song, If I had $1000000, and tries to determine whether their claims are valid.

At more than three hundred pages long, this is a very dense and almost impenetrable work, with some formulae and passages that would be far too difficult for the casual reader. However, sticking with the text reaps some wonderful rewards.

As many music lovers know, the song begins with the assertion that if he had a million dollars, the singer of the Barenaked Ladies would “buy you a house”. Using current Canadian house prices, Professor Duncan determined that this would set back the singer $326,613. Several chapters are then devoted to the implications of buying such an abode and the differences between a building of this price in the different Canadian provinces.

Furniture is the next purchase mentioned in the song, and the singer specifies either “a Chesterfield or an Ottoman”. Using a complicated series of calculations based on musician psychology, wealth ratios and fabric costs, Duncan determines that the most likely item of furniture bought by the Barenaked Ladies’ frontman would be a $3,000 Chesterfield from one of Toronto’s premium seateries.

Here lies one of the more galling omissions from the paper. While his reasoning for coming up with this value for the Chesterfield is sound, Duncan does not assess the merits of having a large house and only one piece of furniture. This seems to me to be somewhat lacking for a gentleman of means, owning his own house and only a Chesterfield to sit/sleep on. This scenario brings to mind the frugal miser, rich yet reluctant to purchase fripperies like beds, wardrobes and tables. Is this really an image we see in the twenty-first century?

There are other oversights that do detract from this otherwise excellent piece of investigation. In estimating the cost of a llama (one of the “exotic pets” that the Barenaked Ladies would purchase), Duncan only takes into account the purchase price of the creature. There is no mention of cost of food, lodgings, training, etc. The same can be said for the monkey, a bargain at $8,000, but less so when you consider the extra money needed to house and feed the animal.

Sadly missing in the analysis is the cost of John Merrick’s remains. In the song, the singer wants to buy “them crazy elephant bones”, but according to Professor Duncan this would be easier sung than done. The remains belong to a London museum, and despite repeated requests for information, no employee would put a price on the bones.

Also, the song states that the singer would buy “some art; a Picasso or a Garfunkel”. Art Garfunkel does not make personal appearances, so Duncan had to find a reasonably priced Picasso work. In the end, he found an original sketch for $70,000.

All in all, Professor Duncan’s analysis of the Barenaked Ladies’ ability to purchase everything mentioned in the song for a million dollars is sound, although he really ought to have given more room to considerations of inflation since the song was written. There is also the question of differences in exchange rates between the song's appearance and now.

Duncan's conclusions – that the items in the song could be purchased for less than half a million dollars, leaving enough money to buy “your love” – are sound. He also adds that this much money would probably be required to buy someone's love if you bought them a house and only one chair, not to mention a fake green dress and lots of Kraft Dinner. But there are some bad omissions in the paper, and these are enough to sow the seeds of doubt about some of Duncan’s methods, and therefore, his conclusions.

I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral. Can't understand what I mean? You soon will.

My Evening with Katrocket: Reviewed!

2009-07-21T13:31:00.002-04:00

A while ago, excellent fellow Torontonian blogger Katrocket posted a competition on her blog, the prize being a custom beaver belt buckle from her good pals at Barbie’s Basement Jewellery. Entrants were asked to say what they’d do to win such a prize, and my entry – coming to meet Katrocket in person (thus saving her the price of postage) and reviewing the meeting – was deemed worthy of a second place prize. My reward: custom cufflinks of my choice.

Well, this weekend our busy schedules were freed and I met up with Katrocket and the Beevers, owners of and geniuses behind BBJ. I was given my excellent Tom Petty cufflinks, and my review follows now.

I will admit, first of all, that it was not without trepidation that I ventured across Toronto to the Beeverdeck. The city has been in the grip of a garbage collector strike for many weeks now, and our raccoons are getting more strong and brazen. Old people and children are now forbidden from going out alone, as these monstrous creatures have been known to pick off weak and infirm humans, gorging themselves on the skin, entrails and tripe. So as I got off the bus I made sure I was ready to run at full pelt, should the need arise.

Luckily I made it to my destination without incident, and was greeted warmly by Katrocket (real name: Katrocket) and the Beevers, who put me at ease by immediately thrusting alcohol into my hand. As a guest, my shyness prevented me from asking for a glass into which to put the alcohol, but I was later given one and a towel for my shoes.

Before we could retire to the Beeverdeck, I first needed to be given the basics of self-defense, and my hosts instructed me on the finer points of asparagus fencing. Raccoons are surprisingly unfond of this vegetable due to their mothers making them eat it as children, so it makes for a great weapon against advancing animals. As well as thrusting and parrying the floppy foodstuff, I also learned techniques known as the ‘Blatter’, the ‘Haichu’ and the ‘gullet-poke’.

Armed with the asparagus and my new knowledge, I was now able to go outside and enjoy the drinks and company. Katrocket and the Beevers are excellent conversationalists, and we debated such topics as the current situation in Chechnya, James Joyce’s lesser-known works and the merits of quilted toilet tissue. Before we could reach a conclusion on this last subject, though, an advance party of raccoons swarmed towards us and we were forced to take up arms.

After around half an hour of solid fighting, we felt that we had got the better of the creatures, and they were beginning to retreat. Sadly, they regrouped with reinforcements (several of which were armed with catapults and pepper spray) and so we decided it was a good time to retire to the sitting room, where the Vicar’s wife entertained us with an aria from Verdi’s La Traviata, accompanied by Mister Humbleby on piano. When they had finished we were forced to inform them that they were in fact in the wrong house and that the Cruikshanks were next door. This was a little vexing to them as they had brought their own piano and it took them a long time to get it back down the stairs.
A quick note on the food: I very much enjoyed the foie gras with vanilla bean compote and desecrated coconut, but the caviar burger with caviar-infused bun and caviar sauce was lacking something. I think it needed more caviar.

Some time before the witching hour, I was forced to bid my excellent hosts a fond farewell, and retired into the night, where I was promptly mugged by a pack of teenage raccoons who were brandishing cricket bats. Sad at the loss of my wallet and shoes, I walked home, happy at a great evening out with some wonderful people, and proud of my fantastic cufflinks.

Now I only need to buy a shirt so I can wear them.

The Imaginary Reviewer would like to thank Katrocket and the Beevers again for their warm hospitality and fantastic cocktails. He would also like to take this opportunity to apologise to any raccoons who were orphaned at the hands of his asparagus.

The Imaginary Reviewer’s Tour of England continues with some Tourist Attractions

2009-07-14T17:33:00.001-04:00

A lot of tourists go to England for the history, and culture. They marvel at how clever those mediaeval people were when they built their castles so close to where the train stations would be, and buy all sorts of things with an extra ‘e’ on the end, like ‘ye olde corkscrewe’ and ‘ye olde amusinge postcarde’.

But England has a lot of other things for tourists, and in my recent trip (which actually lasted less than a week, but somehow managed, TARDIS-like, to house several weeks’ worth of activities), I went to visit them.

One of the rides at England's most popular amusement parks, Funville

Firstly, Suffer Gardens in Shuffleborough is a brand new amusement park based around the concept of pain and physical anguish. As such, it’s not a whole lot of fun. I queued for six hours to go on their most popular ride, “The Uncomfortablator”, pressed against other tourists and families with screaming children and idiots who can’t keep their hotdog condiments on themselves. It turned out at the end that the queue was the ride. Avoid.

According to the pamphlet given to me when I entered, The Twitter Museum in Gaviscon-upon-Cretin is a wonderful love-letter to the latest social media craze. But then, I noticed, it’s a love-letter in building form. And a love-letter without any perfume sprayed to it. Or embarrassing hearts drawn on it. Gosh, this is nothing like a love-letter, it’s a bloody museum! What an awful pamphlet. The Twitter Museum gets no stars because its pamphlet is misleading. Next.

A Boy Who Looks Like Harry Potter is the biggest draw for tourists in Shirehamptonshire since the World’s Biggest Cloud exhibition was called off due to the cloud going missing. The boy stands on a plinth, dressed as the eponymous character, and visitors have to pay ten pounds (about sixteen hundred groats) to get within four feet of him and take a picture. I’ll admit, he does look a lot like the character, but when I saw him he didn’t look very well. And his constant complaining to the crowds about “needing the toilet” and having not eaten “in weeks” did ruin the image for me. No points from this reviewer!

Finally, the Hedgehog Acrobatic Troupe have their home in Strathcarnage. With hedgehog trapeze artists, hedgehog high-wire acts and balancing-on-lots-of-chairs-routine hedgehogs, their twice-daily shows are billed as “fun for some of the family”. I will say that I had a fun, enjoyable time watching all the flying spiky rodent things, but you should think twice before sitting in the first twelve rows. I counted more than eleven fatalities from errant animals flying into the crowd, and many children’s faces were punctured like brain-filled water balloons. Tragic.

Pour encore d’information sur l’Angleterre, consultez un map ou un livre. Je pense que la Grande Bretagne est un pays joli avec les pommes frites et un tranche de biftek. Si vous voulez, manger beaucoup de fromage commes le Francais! Et joyeux Bastille Day. Pamplemousse!

The Imaginary Reviewer Takes on England!

2009-07-08T16:45:00.003-04:00

One thing I wanted to do when I was back in England was to visit lots of places I’ve never been to before. Sure, there’s London, Manchester, Liverpool and Royal Leamington Spa, but I’ve been to all of them before and I love trying new things in new places with new faces and new spaces. Here’s what I found in my travels, like Bill Bryson but without the facial hair.

The village of Flatbrush in Upper Denmarkshire is famous among locals for being “that place that’s mentioned on all the pieces of paper that the postman brings”. It is home to Britain’s largest stuffed mandrill, which weighs more than a car seat and is tall enough to ride Space Mountain at EuroDisney. I loved it in Flatbrush, with its street-lined trees (very handy for stealing apples) and children playing army games with skipping ropes and needle-nosed pliers. Visitors should avoid the aquarium, though, as the fish are all made of innards.

A stuffed mandrill with quite an angry face, yesterday

Crannymagnet is a delightful town located between Blattford and Chorlton-cum-Bucket. It is full of small tea shops run by little old ladies who provide the most wonderful scones with clotted cream and jam. The rooms are all charmingly decorated with twee patterns and chintzy doilies, and the pensioners themselves are all delightful to talk to. Furthermore, give them fifty pence and they’ll take you into the back room and show you their underwear. Splendid!

There’s a tiny hamlet called St Laurence of the Leisure-Suit on Splee, and in order to find it one must first enter Godswood Forest in Bliss (near Bagshot), find a particular wooded glade and recite a poem written by sixth-century monk Douglas Twanky. Then, when the moon glides in a self-satisfied manner towards the South, scatter the ashes of a deceased rhythm guitarist around you and clap three times. A hole will appear in the ground, and when you walk through an imp will ask you three riddles which you must answer correctly or you will be turned to lymph. Only then will you find your way to St Laurence of the Leisure-Suit on Splee. And to be honest, all they’ve got is a crappy souvenir shop and a McDonald’s, so I wouldn’t bother.

If you like custard, you’ll love the city of Cataract, which is down the M18 from Tattersby (turn left before you get to the mill). A tragedy in their pudding factory means that the entire city is covered in eight feet of custard, and daring scuba divers are encouraged to visit and see if they can find any more remains. Anyone is welcome to gorge themselves silly on sweet and gloopy yellow liquid, so long as they bring their own spoon.

Finally, I have heard great things about the village of East Frottage on the cusp of Dantwedge and Throttle. The scenery is beautiful, with gorgeous parks and all-you-can-eat lawns. Museums and art galleries of the highest quality fill the place; in fact, there’s so much culture in the village that the average IQ of the residents is six thousand. I wish I could have seen it all, but I couldn’t as there are no roads which enter East Frottage, only ones that leave. This town planning oversight is quite egregious, and thus I cannot recommend this place at all.

England is open from Monday to Saturday, 06:00 to 23:00, except Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. Entrance is free to under 12s and racists.

The Toronto Fringe Festival

2009-07-06T08:00:00.000-04:00

I’ll be writing more about my trip to England later in the week. But for the time being, the Toronto Fringe Festival is running and I’ve been invited to a lot of preview shows just so that I can relate my opinions back to you all. Let’s face it: you can’t have a preview without the word “Review”. Without it, you’d just have a “p”. And you can’t just have a p in a theatre, you have to go to the toilets. I know. I’ve been thrown out of enough shows.

One of the most talked-about shows in the festival is An Angry Transvestite Talks About His Crotch, a one-man show in the Gashlycrumb Tiny Auditorium on Yonge and St. Muffin. I’ll be honest, if you’re not interested in transvestites, crotches or high-pitched laughter at one’s own jokes, you’re not going to find much to enjoy here.

Gratuitous Swearing in the Motherfucking Title is a new play from the drama club of Saint Liberace’s Middle School in West Parody. In all my years of reviewing things, I have never seen anything quite so violent, so sexually explicit, so foul-mouthed and so gut-wrenchingly bleak as this performance. It made Harvey Keitel’s Bad Lieutenant look like an episode of Smallville. God, this was fantastic. Take your kids. If you don’t have kids, take someone else’s. You can usually find some outside a shoe shop.

If you like improv, you’ll love the Statue of Ad-Lib-erty, which is running from Tuesday to Tuesday following, at the Whiplash Theatre in the Jerseying District. Shout out things that you think are funny and receive rolled eyes from the performers who really do actually see you as a barrier to humour, rather than a facilitator. Oh, “Nantucket”, how hilarious, nobody’s ever shouted “Nantucket” before. Are you sure you’re not Colin Mochrie or something?

A Tribute to Someone You’ve Never Heard of features the comedy stylings of Dan the Faux Misogynist, Deborah the Traffic Warden Who Wears a Mexican Wrestler Mask for Comic Effect and Ted, That Guy Who Pretends to be Mentally Slow by Slurring But Actually Isn’t Because He’s Really a Financial Advisor in Real Life. Anyone who watches this show is guaranteed at least one and a half actual laughs or your money back. Free show, then.

Finally, a thoroughly enjoyable play stars Edgar Badmoustache and Jemima Duddlepuck as two old people who sit and reminisce in front of a fireplace. The play, which doesn’t have a title, is showing at Grumbly Street Nursing Home, every day until December. The play is free, though viewers are asked to donate several biscuits and tea for the performers.

The Toronto garbage collectors are currently on strike, meaning that the city streets are piled high with crap and rubbish. That this is occurring at the same time as the Fringe Festival is purely coincidental.

The Imaginary Reviewer back in England! Pubs Reviewed!

2009-07-01T21:33:00.003-04:00

As I mentioned recently, I just spent a week back in the old homestead, Blighty, the place of my birth, Britannia, that sceptred isle, and so on, et cetera. Now, as many of you gorgeous readers know, there's one thing us Brits love: Booze. And something we love nearly as much as booze are places in which booze is sold for consumption on the premises. So while I was over in the Kingdom of Unitedness, I thought I'd check out some of our finest (and not so finest) pubs, and relate my findings back to you, my loyal fans, because I love you all, even when you give me that look that you know annoys me.

A really impressive pub is the Cuckolded Arsewipe in the beautiful village of Dripple-on-the-Gabe. This visit was my second, as I had been there several years before. I have to say, the place has really improved in the intervening time, a fact that - I am told - is due to the regular customers removing the previous landlord in a bloody coup and leaving his lifeless body in the beer garden as a warning to all. They have an excellent selection of beer, engaging portraits of the barmaids in various states of undress, and very enjoyable food. The Ploughman's Lunch was particularly delicious, although he wasn't very pleased when he caught me eating it.

The Gratuitous Mention is a very nice pub hidden away in Smothkenyonhampton, the picturesque town in Kooganthomsonborough. It's a great place to find people you know and haven't seen in a rather long time, even if they are a bunch of absolute piss-heads. It does pay to spend a lot of time here, too, because otherwise you won't get any of the the in-jokes, but it really is worth it. Oh, and the weekly quiz is fun, but rigged.

I wasn't a big fan of the Craven Beverley which is situated in a secret location at 34 Christendom Lane, Chatterstoft, because of the terrible curtains. The beer was excellent, the clientelle was fun to be around, the food was delicious and the prices were all top-notch. But why (oh why?) did they decide to make their curtains out of screaming children? It really does put a massive dampener on an otherwise brilliant pub.

The locals in The Fantabulous Fountain of Fancy Footwear and Firkin in Dullard, Kent, are wonderful people. They were amazingly kind to this out-of-towner, and helped me to choose from the many ales and lagers, going as far as to buy me several pints of their favourite drinks. They even helped me to find a nearby hotel when I started feeling a little poorly, and apparently made sure that I made it to my room without incident. Sadly the hotel must have had some kind of security problem, as when I awoke the following morning, my wallet, passport and all my clothing had been taken. Also, I also appear to have a scar on my chest which appeared at some point in that night and may or may not be related to the fact that my pancreas is missing.

Finally, The Dog and Steamroller is a delightful little establishment in the back streets of Cockthrobton, a small village just south of Badford and Goodbury. The Dog (as locals call it) is the only pub in England licensed to serve Saint Godspeed Methadone Ale, a locally-brewed tipple that really hits the spot. In fact, I found it very difficult to only drink one pint of this excellent beer, and still find myself craving the sweet, sweet liquid and oh my God I have to go back for some RIGHT NOW BECAUSE NO MATTER HOW HARD I SCRATCH THE ANTS ARE STILL UNDER MY SKIN CRAWLING CRAWLING CRAWLING PLEASE I NEED THAT BEER RIGHT NOW.

The Imaginary Reviewer is not responsible for any injuries suffered as a result of pinching the buxom barmaid's bottom.

Steven Wells RIP

2009-06-25T14:56:00.005-04:00

This won't mean much to anyone but me, really, but indulge me for a minute or two.

When I started writing (real) music reviews for my university newspaper, the person I idolised the most was Steven Wells, writer for the New Musical Express. He knew practically nothing about music, hated most of the bands I loved and nothing he ever wrote could be believed (such as the time he wrote an editorial saying anyone who knows more than two sporting facts should be locked up as mentally ill, about a decade before becoming a sports writer for the Guardian). But every Wednesday, when I got the NME home, I'd scan through it for articles by Swells (as he was known) and laugh myself silly at his brilliant reviews and articles.

Whenever I've written anything since, I've tried to follow the rules I imagined he did: even if the readers don't agree with your opinion, it doesn't matter so long as you entertain them. One of my favourite comments about my music reviews in the Warwick Boar was "I totally disagreed with your review of the Stereophonics single, but I couldn't help but laugh at it".

Sadly, Swells died yesterday, having been suffering from cancer for some time. The last piece he wrote for the Philadelphia Weekly (his local newspaper since he moved to America some years ago), published today, showed a man who knew his time had come, and who was ready to face his end. I feel I should celebrate the man who inspired me to write this stuff on my blog, and if one day - God forbid - I ever make a living out of sitting poised over a keyboard, trying to think of another witty simile, it will be due to him.

Godspeed Swells, you cranky, crossdressing, vitriolic, unashamedly socialist, Belle-and-Sebastian-fan-angering, Daphne-and-Celeste-loving bloke.

A typical Steven Wells piece, from a Nine Inch Nails live review:

Mr Trent Reznor, I’m sure you’re a wonderful guy, I bet you love small children
and dogs and are a warm and sensitive lover. But onstage you are about as much
fun as Christmas in a genital cancer ward. An evening watching your band is
about as pleasurable as three-way sex with Mr and Mrs Himmler.

I have returned

2009-06-24T13:06:00.003-04:00

Hello loyal readers! I am back from my sojourns in the good old Kingdom of Unitedness! My liver is sore, I am in danger of having a Cornish Pasty overdose and my cor blimey guv'nor levels are off the charts. But what a great time I had!

Sadly, I have come back to a lot of work that has built up in my absence. Now Toronto Magazine, for example, have removed a lot of the offensive graffiti I put up on their building, which will have to be replaced. And, of course, I have a lot of things to review. But in the meantime, until my new ones are written, I thought I'd give everyone a chance to see one of my favourite old reviews, one that I wrote long before I had any readers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my review of Hats!

New Hats, (September 2007)

Wow! There are so many new hats available this week that I had to review some of them! Huzzah for hats!

The first hat that I will review is a blue hat. It is about six inches tall with a furry bit on the top. The furry bit is slightly darker than the rest of the hat, which is lighter than the furry bit. The blue is a very nice colour. This hat is a nice hat!

Ooh! Next I've seen a small hat. I don't like the small hat. It won't fit on my head! Why is this hat so small? What were they thinking? Stupid hat. Too small.

Round red hat: The round red hat looks funny, so I like wearing it. It has a lovely tassle on the top for swinging the hat around your head. The round red hat with tassle can be thrown at cars, donkeys or clouds. Hat!

My favourite hat of the week is the Woolen hat. The woolen hat is very warm in winter, and makes for a lovely centrepiece in summer. You could use it as a teacosy! Woolen hats are good for the environment because removing wool prevents sheep from getting too big and taking up all the fields. Woolen hats save the planet! (Earth)

Today I saw a man wearing a Baseball cap with a funny slogan on it. I can't remember the slogan but it made me smile and forget all the bad things that have happened to me recently, like the dog that gave me a funny look and the earth-shattering despair that has grabbed hold of my soul and is squeezing the life out of me. The cap was, therefore, my favouritest cap ever, since the woolen hat, which I already said was my favourite.

Helmet.

Apologies for my absence

2009-06-19T08:31:00.003-04:00

I am staying in England until next week.

There will be no time for reviews as my days are full of the following:

The weather is lovely, as you can see:

Wine wine wine wine WINE!

2009-06-11T11:36:00.002-04:00

As summer approaches like an angry stepfather, a young man’s thoughts turn to wine. Ah, what could be more pleasant in the warmer months than sitting on someone’s cottage roof with a box of Sauvignon Blanc and a catapult? Nothing, that’s what. Here I will sample some of the new white delights and assess them with impartiality, except in one case where I have accepted a kickback.

The 2007 vintage of Chateau Le Bronjames Semillon has finally been released from captivity, and the prospect of tasting it is making everyone lick their lips like chapstick tasters. It certainly is excellent on the nose and rigid on the tongue but sadly it is also disappointing in the ears. There are overwhelming indications of carbuncle and mimsy in the aftertaste, and it does incur a tendency to be sodden in the backsplash. This wine gets a score of sixteen.

Dizzy Hipflask Wineries have just started exporting their Nomenclature Pinot Gris, which has a picture of a whelk on the bottle. After tasting it, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not a bad wine, really; it has just fallen in with some bad Pinot Noirs that have led it astray somewhat. It’s nothing that a good grounding – and, failing that, military school – won’t fix. C plus, with no prospect of parole.

The latest 2008 White Zinfandel Special Edition from Australia’s Sprightly Sprocket vineyards comes with a host of extras, including a making-of documentary, grape profiles and a wonderful series of winemaking bloopers. Bonus material aside, this wine holds its own extremely well, which is handy for those of us who have run out of wine glasses. A good slosh in the mouth produces a scintilla of trustworthiness and oak. Twenty-nine points (subject to change).

Fans of utterly awful wine will be thrilled by the latest crap from Ted and Frank Shufflebotham Wines of Distinction and Quality and all that other stuff that Wine People Want. Their new Sauvignon Blanc is like drinking a cup full of battery acid and sorrow. The bouquet has elements of primary school janitor’s jockstrap and sick, and the lingering aftertaste is like waking up in bed with your brother’s girlfriend and having no recollection of the previous night after the point when you decided to split up the taxis outside the club. Nul points.

Finally, there’s a new winemaker on the block: Pierre De Fenestration. Wow, he’s so cool and mysterious! Does anyone know anything about him? He makes all the other winemakers look dull and boring…I wonder if he has a girlfriend yet? I heard he has a motorcycle and told the Vinyard Inspector to “shove it”. Sigh, he’s so dreamy. Eighty-four points.

All of these wines are available from your local booze emporium, or that man who smells of chips and cigarettes in the park. If you are under 18, please get a passing stranger to purchase your wine for you. Contains sulphites.

Concert Review: Freestyle Open Mic Night at the Royal Conservatoire

2009-06-05T15:16:00.002-04:00

For an inexpensive evening of music, Open Mic nights are usually an interesting way to experience a variety of styles and performances, from folksy guitarists to up-and-coming rappers. This week, I grabbed myself a table at the Royal Conservatoire of Music on Bellhop Drive, where the Freestyle Open Mic Evenings are becoming somewhat legendary.

The R.C. has been home to some of the most talked-about events in open stage history. Who could forget the hardcore cello battle when L’il Stradivarius publicly called out V-Valdi from the stage in 2004? And nobody who witnessed it could forget the historic surprise appearance from Des Dead Prez in 1999 when he previewed his as-yet unreleased sonata for solo harpsichord.

With these memorable moments in my mind, I was full of anticipation when the first act took the stage. He was a talented young bassoonist called Shoo-Bert, and it was clear from his combination of flicking and venting techniques that he’s going to go far. He had total control of the crutch, and his glissando was anything but wack. Keep an eye out for him in future!

Next up was a freestyle duet between timpani and triangle. God, that was dull. It was like refereeing a sprint between a comatose snail and an asthmatic sloth.

Sadly, regular performer Bach Daddy was only able to rock the mic with his extreme piccolo skills for about a minute before excessive heckling from another area of the crowd forced him off the stage. It seems that BD’s crew – the BaRoqckers – have been in a violent turf war with the Renaissance Renegades, and this latter group were responsible for the interruption. Both groups were ejected from the Conservatoire for the disturbance, and I’m told that a fight broke out in the car park straight away. Apparently several reeds and violin bows were damaged in the melee.

While the fight was going on outside, within the RC we were being treated to a great performance by the locally popular Tuba-ng Clan who performed from their excellent Enter the 36 Chamber Music album. The twenty-three members all worked the stage with their French Horns, Tubas and Clarinets, ad-libbing and freestyling like old pros. This was a wonderful show, made even better by some excellent honk and response that really got the crowd involved.

Finally, the attendees at the open mic night were blessed by a truly remarkable performance by an amateur glockenspiel player. I wasn’t able to see the crowd’s reaction to this stellar young artist’s recital, but judging by the stunned silence that accompanied his incredible playing I’m betting that they were impressed. So awed were they by his amazing command of the glockenspiel that they even maintained a reverent calm after his performance had finished, during the time when they’d usually clap and cheer. In fact, when I – whoops, sorry, I mean he – came off the stage, he was greeted by the international symbol of “great show!” Yes, everyone was covering their ears with their hands and looking pained, obviously to tell me him that when I he stopped playing, they felt a pain in their souls.

The Freestyle Open Mic Night at the Royal Conservatoire is highly recommended for all B-Boys (the ‘B’ stands for ‘Beethoven’!) and flygirls who can’t get enough of that crazy French Horn madness. I’ll be there next week; will you?

Freestyle Open Mic Night is every Wednesday at the Royal Conservatoire, Bellhop Drive, Toronto. Doors open at 7:00, but you’re still not allowed in until 7:30, when the building has warmed up. Bring a xylophone and lay down some dope ass tinkles.

New Art Exhibition: Lost Cat by the Wilson Family

2009-06-03T12:47:00.002-04:00

The Wilson Family is a guerrilla art collective based out of Prentice Drive in Toronto whose exhibitions across the city are garnering much attention from the establishment. Their previous works include the much-lauded Garage Sale on Saturday exhibition and the limited edition piece entitled Please Do Not Park Here. Their latest work, Lost Cat, is their most ambitious yet.

Lost Cat takes the same form as the Wilsons’ previous projects: 8 x 11 inch paper in the portrait orientation, stapled to various telegraph poles and fences around the Prentice Drive area. Fans of the Wilsons are encouraged to seek out the artworks in a four-block radius of the Wilson abode, as there are four different posters, each of which appears to have been duplicated and displayed at least fifteen times.

The subject matter of Lost Cat differs from Garage Sale and Please Do Not Park Here. Whereas the previous two were scathing commentaries on capitalism, property ownership and personal space, Lost Cat is a poignant paean to loss and regret.

The first artwork that I found was delicately stapled to a wooden telegraph pole. At the top of the work was the title, “Lost Cat”, and underneath it was a black and white photograph of an adult tabby. At the bottom of the paper was information on the cat’s name, age and a number to call if we, the viewers, see this feline. The other three posters in the series all conveyed similar information, with slightly different wording and pictures.

The first thing to strike me about this artwork is that it truly captures the sadness and disappointment that comes with loss. Here, the loss of something precious has been conveyed through a beloved family pet, but the artists could so easily be talking about the death of a relative, the theft of an heirloom or the pain of a love gone astray. When the thing can no longer be found, and when it is something that is not responsible for its own non-being, then we are forced to try and find it ourselves, and here the exhibition evokes a new emotion: futility.

The more posters that one sees displayed in this exhibition, the more one feels the sense of desperation and ultimate failure that the Wilsons are trying to convey. The wording of the posters, with their plaintive ‘please’ and ‘reward offered’, also creates tenderness, false hope and a sense of impending mourning.

The pictures of the cat are a wonderful masterstroke. He looks for all the world like a regular household pet, lounging in that way that cats are wont to do, ostensibly in better times, when he wasn’t ‘missing’. The viewer is brought in by this added layer of interaction, our mind’s eye can picture this poor, lost feline trying to find its way around the city, not knowing where its favourite blanket is. Extend this mental picture to a vision of a deceased loved one or forgotten romance, and it become all the more sad; we see the cat as a representation of our doomed affairs, and it becomes clear that we will never again have that innocent love.

I also love the placing of the artworks. Each is held up by a single staple, showing an almost tactile fragility that could allow it to be blown away in a strong wind. The breeze creates a movement within the pieces that bring us closer to them. This movement and fragility also shows us how fleeting our relationships are; how quickly they can be taken from us.

I would certainly recommend that anyone in the Prentice Drive area check out this exhibition, which is running until all the posters are covered by ads for roofing companies, or until Ruffles is found, whichever comes first.

Admission to the Lost Cat exhibition is free. If you have any information about the whereabouts of Ruffles, please call the Wilson family on 416-555-5055.

It had to happen sooner or later

2009-05-29T11:50:00.002-04:00

Imaginary Review fans! Remember last November, when I wrote the following review:

http://imaginary-review.blogspot.com/2008/11/television-review-holy-smokes.html

Well, have a look at the following from today's Onion:

BURBANK, CA—Executives at ABC announced Monday that the network will premier a new Lost spin-off series this fall based around that show's popular smoke
monster character.

The new series, a half-hour family-oriented comedy called Where There's Smoke, is
touted by ABC as the new anchor of its Thursday-night lineup.
"Somewhere between the smoke monster's first appearance on Lost— when it was depicted as a strange unseen force uprooting trees—and that episode in season three where it grabbed Mr. Eko and smashed him against the ground until he was dead, this character became the breakout star of the show," said Stephen McPherson,
president of ABC Entertainment. "And that's exactly why we're so excited about
Where There's Smoke. We get to see the monster's light comedic side in a show
about life, love, and good friends having good times."

"Because after all, Where There's Smoke, there's laughter," McPherson added.

ABC sources reported that the series will transplant the evil black cloud from the
island of Lost to the suburbs of Chicago, where it works as a sports radio host,
surrounded by "a whole new group of crazy characters." Actress Lea Thompson has
signed on to play the monster's long-suffering wife, who must put up with her
husband's screwball antics while raising the couple's two rambunctious children,
Tanner and Smoky, Jr.

Veteran TV producer Chuck Lorre, of Dharma & Greg and The Big Bang Theory fame, will helm the show, which he said will focus mainly on the deadly creature's adjustments to suburbia and fatherhood, and its comically contentious relationship with its boss, a fussy radio station manager played by Richard Kind.
"The whole concept began with us asking, 'So what happens to the monster after it kills somebody and disappears down that ancient temple vent? What kind of life might it have?'" Lorre said. "And what we realized is that audiences really relate to this character and would like to see it in everyday situations, shooting the breeze with buddies at a local watering hole or murdering its son's soccer coach and depositing his lifeless body in a tree."

"And of course, you'll be hearing lots of its classic catchphrase,
'Brrrrr, chk-chk-chk-chk, muuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrhhh,'" Lorre
added.

Lost producer Jack Bender has confirmed that the smoke monster will no
longer be part of his show's regular cast. However, ABC has promised that Where
There's Smoke will feature a number of guest appearances from Lost regulars.
Sources said the pilot episode will feature an appearance by actor Michael
Emerson as a slobby houseguest named Benjamin Linus who overstays his welcome,
much to the chagrin of the smoke monster's wife.

Though the project has been in development for almost a year, negotiations reached a standstill last winter when representatives for the mysterious, billowing actor expressed concern that their client would risk being typecast as "just a smoke monster" if the role were carried into a new series.
"We're always sensitive to these kinds of things, but we actually think this new vehicle will make people realize [the monster] is a sophisticated actor with a great deal of range," said McPherson, who agreed to pay the show's star $2 million per episode after scenes between the smoke monster and a nosy, ethnic next-door neighbor tested well with audiences. "People love the smoke monster, and people love to laugh. This series is a can't-miss."Added McPherson, "And I'm not just blowing smoke here."

So...am I being paranoid?

New Number Review: Eight (The Remake)

2009-05-27T14:44:00.003-04:00

The number Eight has been popular for a great many years now, and has lots of fans in the worlds of science, astronomy and sports, amongst others. Our base ten system of counting has ensured a plethora of sequels to Eight, including Eighteen, Eighty and Eight Hundred and Eighty Eight. Each sequel has varying degrees of popularity.

In an attempt to cash in on Eight’s fame and prestige, the number has been the subject of a big-budget remake. Fans of the figure are divided between those who have excitement at the prospect of a worthy addition to the number pantheon and those who are scared that this new Eight will debase the essence of the original. I’ve had a look at the new digit, and I give you my thoughts here.

Due to a convoluted time-travelling plot involving the number Twenty Two going back in time to prevent the Square Root of Negative Four becoming an Imaginary Number, the Eight Remake is on a completely different timeline to the original. This is very important to remember, as it has allowed the makers of the new figure to take it in directions very different to those of the original.

These new directions vary between inspired and godawful. The new Eight is no longer divisible by four, and cannot be multiplied by twelve. These changes are definitely in the latter category, as they make using the number incredibly difficult. What if I have eight cats and I want to split them between four people? I can’t do that any more.

The good changes to the new Eight include the fact that its square root is now a whole number, and the number itself is more shiny. Also, raising any other number to the power of the new Eight is a lot easier, and provides the user with a picture of a shark.

Fans of the original Eight will be interested in the cast of the new version. The digits that add up to Eight are now a lot more young and attractive, and two of them (I’m not saying which) actually have a chemistry that goes far beyond their counterparts in the original. Its impressive budget also means that the Remake of Eight has better special effects: eight explosions are now much more impressive than they used to be, and the same is true for a fight involving eight people.

Overall, the remake of Eight is highly enjoyable, and a fine addition to the world of numbers. I’d even go as far as to say it is worthy of the title of ‘Eight’, though some hardcore fans may disagree with me. True, it does diverge from the original Eight in many ways, not always successfully, but at the same time it is its own number, and that is to the new Eight’s credit.

Eight will be on widespread release in June. Previews are currently available to Jon and Kate, if they’re interested. If not, sod them. Seriously, if they don’t want the new Eight, that’s their loss, and I won’t shed any tears for them. The bloody ingrates. Now look what they’ve done. They’ve gone and made me mad with their New Eight Hating. Their hEighting, if you will. Just because they’ve got a crapload of kids they think they can dismiss a new numerical entity with an arrogant sneer and a wave of the hand? Well they’ve got a lot to learn. Ooooh, they make. Me. So. Angry!

Children's Magazines

2009-05-21T17:17:00.001-04:00

I have always loved magazines, since I was very small. Even now, I read many magazines on a weekly basis, mostly to find their editor’s address so I can send them begging letters. Sometimes I even read the articles, and then I sneer at the amateurs who write them, laughing at how low the journal in question has fallen, and how much they need The Imaginary Reviewer writing for them, to bring them up to a high level of quality.

This week I decided to take a look at the children’s magazines on offer, and see if they’re as bad as all the other magazines that don’t even have the class to respond to my unsolicited submissions.

This month’s copy of Kid Blast! magazine has a wealth of features and news. For example, there’s an exclusive interview with Dora the Explorer’s former boyfriend. He tells of the popular character’s harrowing addiction to painkillers and sherbet. Many pages are dedicated to secretly obtained photographs from Lazytown, where popular stars Stephanie and Robbie Rotten have been romantically linked. Also in this fascinating magazine are questions about Maisy Mouse’s recent weight problem: Could it be due to a serious illness? And which of the Backyardigans is gay? Find out inside!

Kindergartener Quarterly features an essay by Umberto Eco on the multilayered empirical interpretations of the Spot the Dog stories, which I found to be both thought provoking and enjoyable. I especially liked the very pretty pictures. A new short story by Margaret Atwood about a girl and her favourite pony is also a good addition to this journal, as is the investigative report on the economics of transport and how they are affecting anthropomorphic tank-engines. On the other hand, the article which investigates the possibility of a future terrorist attack by the Grinch is nothing short of salacious hackery.

Finally, Martha Stewart Pre-Schooler magazine is jam-packed with great ideas for the average three-year-old. This month, she shows how to liven up any dolls’ tea-party by adding a wonderful blend of imaginary spices to the non-existent tea. There are also fun ideas for brightening up one’s Wendy house with recycled dummies and Lego bricks, and also the top ten ways to wrest Mummy’s attention away from that annoying new baby brother.

Children should be supervised at all times when reading magazines and books, lest their innocent brains become influenced by subversive ideas, and they learn that they’re adopted.

Heavy Metal Music Round-up

2009-05-14T15:03:00.002-04:00

Heavy metal music is the best kind of music to listen to when you’re annoyed. When I’ve been standing outside the Now Toronto Magazine offices with my “Gizzajob You Bastards” placard for eight hours with no acknowledgement from the titwanks inside, there’s nothing I like more than listening to some Slayer or Angry Nun at high volume. Whether it’s Napalm Death, Brickshitter or Deadbolt Sandwich, the world of metal is a breeding ground for talent and innovation. Here’s my roundup of the latest grointhrust noisefests.

First off, there’s the long-awaited second album by Cause of Death: Seagull. Entitled Really Grotesque Pictures of Guts, it’s a solid successor to their highly acclaimed debut, Shocking Attitude towards Organised Religion. From the first throatyelp of the opening song, ‘I am in your Teabag’ to the final drum roll of ‘Lambast Memorial’, this is a good set of memorable songs. The only downside to the album is the fourth track, which consists of four minutes of gurgling, but other than that, Cause of Death: Seagull have released something to be proud of.

Cyanide Lollipop are a hot new band from New Jersey, in the good old You Ess of A. I hear that their live shows are amazing, which makes their disappointing debut, Soulchomp Gluttony all the more sad. I’ve often said that there are too many pan pipes and glockenspiels in modern metal, and CL have fallen into the trap of turning these instruments up to 11 to cover their awful lyrics and tepid guitar solos.

Several months after releasing last year’s Eat My Lymph, Gruntfuck Episode’s lead songwriter Andrew Brentwood expressed dissatisfaction with the finished product. He claimed that every instance of the A minor chord on the album should have actually been a G suspended seventh, and the band have now re-recorded the album to these specifications. I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit shit.

My favourite of the recent releases is Marrrrgggghhhaaaaaarrrrghghghgghh by Finnish death-metallers Embryo Soup. First it’s got these great basslines that go dunduggadundun, and then he starts singing like this: “Raaaaaawwwwwwkkkkkk! Raaaaaaaallllllll! Grrrr!” and then the guitars go chugggachuggawawa and then my neighbours complained and I had to turn it down.

Finally, The Ian Malcolm Pants Explosion’s latest album, Wasp Factory Explosion, is so loud that it’s impossible to hear with human ears. For this reason, each copy comes with a free pair of animal ears (installation required). I wasn’t able to get my new ears grafted onto my head in time for this review, but I’m told by other people who have heard it that it’s not worth the agony.

The Imaginary Reviewer is not responsible for any hearing damage sustained while listening to heavy metal music. He is responsible for any hearing damage sustained while he punches you in the head.

The Best New University Courses for 09/10

2009-05-12T17:06:00.003-04:00

These days, everyone goes to university. People don’t start their first full-time job until they have enough letters after their name to earn a thousand points on a Scrabble board. But for every Business, Law or Philosophy and Psychology degree, there’s a useless one, like Surfing, Klingon or Applied Mathematics. And even more new degrees are being opened every year. I took a look at some of them, like a voyeur in an exhibitionist factory.

First off, Paris Hiltonology at Dundee University is an excellent degree. Obviously it leads to a BSc, being a highly scientific program. Classes include Canine Shrinkage: The Fundamentals, Vacuity 101 and BFF Selection. An extended Press Manipulation module lasts for two semesters, with the first being a general introduction and the second looking at detailed ways to promote your sex tape. Having read through the course materials, I can see this being a very worthwhile and interesting course. Many people believe that by 2020 the most common job in the developed world will be ‘Vacuous Celebrity’, so this qualification will be a boon to all interested. A warning, though: this will be a tough course to be accepted into. Anyone with a grade average of C or above is unlikely to be considered.

Both Oxford and Cambridge will this year begin offering an MA in Running Around in Circles. This is definitely going to be an advanced course, with both practical and theory elements. Of the two universities, I’d recommend Oxford’s programme over Cambridge’s, as the former has invested £27million in a new circle-running stadium and wind-tunnel.

The Online University of North America and Europe is offering a new course, entitled Making Money Using the Internet. There are no entrance qualifications needed, just send a cheque for $1200 to their PO number and you’ll be enrolled. I wish I could say more about this course, but I still haven’t received the materials yet, and I was accepted over six months ago. Sorry!

For those of you who are in full-time employment but who wish to expand your brainclout, there are also many exciting and interesting night courses available. I highly recommend the Toronto School of Continuing Studies’ Certificate in Wife Appreciation. From full-bodied to slightly fruity, this course will let you appreciate wives of all varieties. Course fees include samples of the wives and a book to make your own notes in. I really enjoyed this course, having had very little experience of wives in the past; from the first class to the last, I found myself learning more and more while having fun (and testing a lot of wives, too!).

Finally, MIT has a new course entitled Extreme Makeover: Home Edition Studies. With one class taught by Ty Pennington himself, this course covers such subjects as Being as Pathetic as Possible to Get on the Show, Shelves: How Many is Too Many?, Bullying a Neighbourhood into Working for Free and What to do When the Truck Breaks Down and Won’t Move Out of the Way of the New House in the Big Reveal. This is a terrible course with no redeeming features. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And not just because they refused to decorate my apartment on the grounds that I’m “not tragic enough.”

Bloody students, with their long hair and their alcopops and their Jean Paul Satre and their low-cut jeans…in my day it were conscription or you’d work down t’ mines.

New National Holidays

2009-05-07T16:55:00.003-04:00

Right now in Japan people are just getting back to their normal work and school routines, having just enjoyed Golden Week, a period of several national holidays in the space of seven days. Canada, the UK and the US all have at least one national holiday this month, while Turkey celebrates “Cannon Day”, a day in which anyone who owns a cannon is allowed to take the day off, so long as they tend to their weapon.

But people are greedy, lazy little creatures, and we always want more days off work for eating beans in our underwear and laughing at videos of other people’s misfortune on the Internet. For that reason various governments are currently considering the initiation of several new national holidays. If I didn’t review them you’d call me a charlatan, so without further ado I’ll get on it like a Swedish postman gets on a bike.

Here in Canada, they’re considering making the third Wednesday in June National Hump Day. On this day everyone in the country will get the day off work to celebrate the fact that we’re already more than halfway through the week. To commemorate the day, people with humps on their back will be entitled to discount shirts at selected outfitters, and humpback whales will be sold by the kilogram in the street by men on scooters. Of course, having a day off in the middle of the week negates the whole idea of hump day; by the end of Tuesday, you’ve only got two more days of work left in the week, so this is a very silly idea and whoever thought of it should be shot.

In America, they’re thinking about creating Gatorade Presents National Local Pride Day. This day will be located on the third Monday after the second full moon before the Vernal Equinox. Nobody knows when this is. What nonsense.

Back in England, Tea Appreciation Month is on the cards, with a National Tea Drinking Day being the culmination. This is slated to occur in November. As part of the celebrations, the Queen will personally select twelve dangerous criminals to be drowned in Oolong, while failure to drink at least one cuppa a day for the month will result in chemical castration. I think there is nothing wrong with this plan, and I shall write a letter to my MP forthwith demanding he sign a petition.

Australian politicians are right this moment debating the wisdom of National Cake Day. Can you imagine a day dedicated to cake? It would be the best day ever! There’ll be free cake giveaways, streetlights will be covered in icing for the day, and a genetically engineered man-o’cake will roam the streets, trying to hide from the general public. Once he is found, everyone will be able to eat him alive, and his screams will echo into the night as a sign of National Cake Day’s success. This is the best idea yet in the history of the world and I will move to Australia if it comes to fruition.

National National Holiday Day is going to be the third Friday in April every year in Belgium. Everyone will celebrate their love of national holidays by reminiscing about national holidays past and making plans for the next national holidays to come. Babies born on National National Holiday Day will be given an ice cream. As everyone loves national holidays, I think this is a great idea, and I am only sad that Belgium will not be a country for very long and that the residents won’t get to appreciate the day to its full potential.

Imaginary Drug Testing

2009-05-04T16:46:00.001-04:00

Firstly, thanks to everyone who sent me messages of goodwill last week with regard to my unfortunate malady. The silver lining at the end of this cloud of roomspinny earbuzz is that while in the doctor’s office I was able to avail myself of some prescription forms without being caught. Like a child in a sweet shop I found myself able to try any drugs that the pharmacist had in stock, and so I picked the most interesting ones and have my findings for you now.

The first such medicine was Xexox Palatoxox, from Dimaxahat Chemicals. This didn’t do anything for the symptoms of my ear infection, sadly. But it did increase my sense of smell by a factor of about five million. I can now detect an unopened box of granola bars from within the next building and by smelling a person’s breath I can tell what they had for dinner before they’ve eaten it. Also if someone farts in my general proximity it affects me so much that I have to scrunch up my face to the extent that I look like a Star Trek alien. Apparently this drug is intended to treat eczema.

Peroxibucket Formaldehyppo was amazing for my problematic ear canal woes. When I took this drug all the pain and discomfort fell away; sadly, this was because I had lost all feeling in my head, face, neck and brain. I was able to walk and act normally, but I had no consciousness above my shoulders. As a result, I can only recommend this drug for anyone who wants to simulate being a host of E! Entertainment News.

The best drug in terms of flavour was Trioxybelieveitsnotbutteryoumoronsdiazemine. It tasted like strawberries mixed with sunshine and pep. I waited for it to have an effect on my wellbeing but when nothing happened after two hours I read the instructions and it turns out there was a mistake with my prescription and I’d been given Skittles instead. Brilliant!

Doctor Fforbes’s Ecstatic Medicine will make you forget your troubles and dance the afternoon away. After taking some of the pills, the ticking of the clock on the wall provided me with a highly effervescent rhythm and I was moved to perform the Jitterbug, the Charleston, the Mop-Shaker and both the Hootingale 2-step and 4-step, all in my own living room. After this I became quite dehydrated and was moved to imbibe some dandelion and burdock. What larks!

Finally, I should also mention the worst drug I prescribed myself. Nearoin is supposed to be as close to Heroin as it’s possible to get legally, but I found it to be nowhere as good as the real thing. In fact, after shooting up a vialful of this rancid stuff, I found myself craving the Vietnamese Horse-Downer that I’d had on my last jaunt to Asia. I’d write more about Nearoin right now but I’m mashed out of my skull on Morotgana.

The Imaginary Reviewer would like to remind his reader that winners don’t do drugs (and get caught).

A Brief Lull

2009-04-28T13:18:00.000-04:00

Apologies for the recent dearth of reviews. The Imaginary Reviewer has an inner ear infection.

Normal service will be resumed once the room stops spinning.

Currently Showing

2009-04-23T16:42:00.001-04:00

Whether you’re on a date, escaping enemy agents or just someone who enjoys chewing loudly to annoy other people, the cinema is a great place to spend a few hours. Here’s my rundown of the films you can see right now.

Initial Conditions stars Nicholas Cage as a professor of Chaos Theory in an unnamed university. When his parents are killed by a tornado in his home town, he travels to Asia with the aim of finding and killing the butterfly responsible for starting it. What he discovers is an insect/weather conspiracy of gigantic proportions. Initial Conditions is a silly film, but really utilises Cage’s sole facial expression (that of a confused man-child). Jet Li co-stars, with a great soundtrack from DJ Sweatpants.

Working Relationship is the latest romantic comedy from the writers of My Boyfriend is a Squid and Intercourse Office. It stars Matthew McConaughey as a terrible actor who is constantly typecast as the leading man in absolutely woeful romantic comedies. Sandra Bullock plays his agent, and while she struggles to find him work in the latest high-brow arthouse film, the two of them film love. This film made me vomit, and the product of this vomiting episode was nicer to look at that the tripe on the screen. Co-starring Kevin Smith as Silent Bob.

Big Birds Existential Adventure was reviewed last week.

The Fastest and the Furiousest sees Vin Diesel racing dragster cars along incredibly straight roads against other dragster drivers while being chased by the police and the mafia. Watch with awe as the action star manages to maintain a completely collinear route without losing his hard man image. Who will deploy their parachute brakes first? Co-starring Vanessa Hudgens and a big truck with enough room underneath it for a car to barely pass through.

Indiana Jones and the Ruined Childhood Memories is another big-budget action sequel which sees Harrison Ford don the fedora and whip for more cartoony fun. This time, while Indy is hunting for the makers of a substandard Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sequel he uncovers a plot to bastardize all things that everyone once held dear. But who is behind it? The answer shocks Jones to his very core. Guest starring George Lucas as the evil mastermind.

Coming Soon:
The Even More Fastest and the Absolute Zenith of Furiousness
Saw VI: Saw Hard With a Vengeance
Tyler Perry’s Isn’t Eddie Murphy in this?
The Slow and the Calm
An Annoying Full-of-Himself Man Gets His Comeuppance with Excruciating but Hilarious Results: The Movie
The Even Faster than Before (Which is Saying Something Because Before it was as Fast as is Physically Possible) and the so Furious it Makes Something Really Angry Look Positively Sedate

The Latest Bottled Water: Reviewed!

2009-04-20T14:24:00.003-04:00

As the song goes, “There’s water, water of life/Jesus gives us water of life”. This is patently untrue, of course; Jesus doesn’t give us water, it comes from a tap. But sometimes it comes from a bottle, and more and more new brands of the essential liquid are going on sale. I decided to have a look with my tongue.

First off, Tip Top Tap Pop is a delightful new product from a micro-waterery near Guelph, in Canada. The bouquet reminds me of a damp morning in November, and the first taste on my tongue was a little fizzy, but that could be because I’d been licking batteries all morning. The initial flavours were asymptomatic yet coddling, with overbearing notions of parsnip on the underbite. This water was great.

Incidentally, when one is taste-testing water, what does one use to cleanse the palate? When tasting wine, we use water, so I figured I’d use wine, in a totally radical vice versa fashion.

Next up was the latest vintage from wollaC hydroyards. While not without gumption, this 2008 water lacks the visual acuity of previous vintages, possibly due to it being a poor year for aqueous minerality. I detected hints of margarine, camomile and temperance in this fair-to-middling beverage.

Dumptruck is being branded as the water for men on the go, with each bottle personally insulted by Chuck Norris. This water tasted like desperation and silt, though it does come in a handy handle-shaped bottle. Oh, and I think this water is the reason why it feels like I’ve been pissing razors for the last two days, even when I’m not actually urinating.

Triumph Supermarket Own-Brand Water tastes like water. Yawn!

I’m a big fan of the latest celebrity water, Ethereality by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Each mouthful of this drink was like flavourless nectar, an invisible cup of undetectable beauty. It tastes like all the yesterdays that could have been but never were, of kisses in the rain with nobody, of the sense of something really great that was here five minutes ago but disappeared and you missed it because you were chasing a hen around a car park. Wonderful.

The outright winner of my taste test fantasia was Fresh Wardrobe by Emperor Drinks. Sloshing this water in my mouth was like having twelve sylphs softly beating my torso with loofahs while a parliament of friendly owls sings my praises in notes too high for me to hear. I could detect elements of lemongrass, treacle and tin in this delightful liquid, while the aftertaste added hints of tree fort and longing. I’d recommend this bottled water for anyone with a soul.

Water comes from a tap/it was put there by a chap/in factory downtown/if I had my little way/I’d drink water every day/oh wait/I do/well, that’s quite splendid/gosh, that’s cheered me up/woman

Film Review: Big Bird’s Existential Adventure

2009-04-14T13:25:00.001-04:00

The latest big-budget children’s film from the Sesame Street team shows a definite change in style from previous movies, and also from the popular television series. Written by Charlie Kaufman and directed by Michel Gondry, Big Bird’s Existential Adventure is a fun, multi-layered, philosophically rich movie for all the family to enjoy and discuss afterwards over coffee.

In the film, puppeteer Matt Kogel (played by Matt Vogel) undergoes a personality crisis after playing the character Big Bird on the Sesame Street set for an extended period of time. Even when out of costume he starts walking and talking like the Muppet, and his friends feel that he is forgetting where Matt ends and where Big Bird begins. After an incident in a shoe shop where he forces Tyra Banks (playing herself) to count every single item of footwear in there, the producers of Sesame Street make him go on a break in his home town, where his love of puppetry began.

It is initially difficult for Kogel to readjust to a place where he is no longer a man in a giant yellow bird costume, no longer forced to talk like a child while operating a comically long mouth with one hand. Here, he is simply Matt, and learns that for the people close to him, this is enough.

In the course of the film, the dichotomy of actor and role are explored, and with many of the characters in the film playing themselves, there is a lot of self-referential material. At the beginning of the film, we see that the line between part and player is blurred and vague, and the world of the Jim Henson Workshop seems to permeate into the real world, courtesy of Big Bird’s existential angst. But as the line between Kogel and Big Bird solidifies, the two worlds go back to their separate existences.

Kids will adore the metaphysical implications of this movie. Many of the children who were at the same screening as me came out discussing the relative merits of free-will and deterministic approaches to the self, and how they related to Big Bird/Matt’s quandary. This could indeed be the best philosophical children’s movie since Disney’s Hannah Montana and the Ontological Proof of the Existence of God.

As with most films aimed at kids these days, the adults are not forgotten, either. There are plenty of fart jokes and people falling off chairs to stop the parents from getting bored.

Of course, the film is not flawless, and many of the kids I talked to found some of the concluding scenes a little too simplistic. Kogel’s relationship with a childhood sweetheart is a little tacked-on and unnecessary. The cameo from latest Henson Workshop wunderkind as a puppeteer at a party is five minutes of nothing more than cynical advertising. And it’s possible to get a little disoriented by Gondry’s eclectic camera selection and off-centre framing.

But these are just small niggles in what is otherwise a fine example of existential children’s cinema, carrying on the great tradition that started with Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Solipsists, moving through to 2003’s Spy Kids 4: Cartesian Dualism Duel.

Twilight: The Live Action Role Playing Game

2009-04-07T17:41:00.003-04:00

Twilight is a series of books that are currently incredibly popular with teenage girls. The success of the books is a mystery to most adults, but some people put it down to the fact that the author, Stephanie Meyer, has all the literary ability of a thirteen year old, meaning that the readers find it easy to relate to her turgid prose. Indeed, Twilight is one of those rare instances when fan fiction and the book itself are of equal quality.

With a film raking in profits at the box office and several more on the way, the Twilight franchise is big-business, and the brand has seen many related spin offs, including a role-playing game, a breakfast cereal and a Broadway musical, entitled Fangs for the Music. A live action role playing game has also been developed, and I was invited to partake, so I partook.

Live action role playing (LARP) takes many of the elements of traditional RPGs like Dungeons and Dragons, and lets you act them out in the real world. This was my first experience with LARP, so I needed some pointers and advice. Luckily the organisers (Twi-Hard RPG Inc) are very helpful, and my lack of confidence wasn’t a problem. Interestingly, lacking confidence is a pretty common trait amongst LARPGers.

I was given the role of a young male vampire, and the mission assigned to me was to make one of the female human characters fall in love with me. I could do this by raising my levels of mystery, charm and swoonability in the course of the game. Given that all players start with equal scores in these categories, I figured I had a pretty good chance of doing this. But I was wrong.

Given the ratio of males to females in LARPGs is somewhat skewed, there seemed to be a lot of male vampires vying for the attention of relatively few human females. The organisers tried to persuade some male gamers to take the role of girl characters, but this was deemed ‘too embarrassing, even for LARPGers’. So there were many of us, all trying to win the affection of a slim number of wannabe Bellas.

Being a first-timer, I had a lot to learn, far more than my more experienced fellow vampires. As much of the role-play wooing involved standing beneath a window and looking threatening, there were a lot of calls to the police from suspicious onlookers. I did not escape in time when a patrol car came by, and while I was explaining my actions to the disbelieving cops, I was losing the opportunity to earn valuable charm points.

It’s possible to do battle with other participants, using dice, which increases various statistics of your character. This element, while faithful to the traditional role playing game, seemed rather out of place in a shadowy world of romantic supernatural liaisons, but I guess the only alternative would be physical combat, and that could lead to costly lawsuits.

My first battle with a fellow RPGer ended badly, when Douglas, a werewolf, rolled a six to my three, scoring a Deadly Blow and escaping with Mandy, a girl who was about to give me some mystery points. I was sidelined for ten minutes (for ‘recovery’) and got chatting to another player who had also just lost a battle. Malcolm told me that he liked playing the Twilight LARPG because it gave him an opportunity to pretend to be a hundred years old.

The rest of my time in the game was short lived. I was killed by a guy dressed as Wesley Snipes from the Blade movies, which was a bit surprising given that this was a totally different film, but rules are rules, and I was forced to watch the game from the outside. In the end, the game was won by a girl who managed to get friendly with twenty five different vampires and werewolves. Someone else did score higher, but she was caught having sex with one of the players in the bushes, and according to the rules this results in an automatic disqualification.

I wouldn’t recommend Twilight: The Live Action Role Playing Game, because it’s not a lot of fun. Fans of the books may enjoy it, but it tends to take place long after their bedtimes, so they’ll probably miss out. In the meantime, I’ve heard that LARPGers who want proper supernatural romance role-playing fun should wait for the TSN Anita Blake Adults Only Game.

Film Review: 12 Rounds

2009-04-01T06:36:00.004-04:00

In 12 Rounds, WWE Wrestling superstar John Cena stars as Danny Fisher, a New Orleans cop whose girlfriend Molly (played by Avril Poisson) has been kidnapped by an Irish arms dealer who blames Fisher for the death of his own girlfriend one year previous. The kidnapper (Aiden Gillen) has set a series of challenges and trials for Fisher to overcome before he will return Molly; if the streetwise policeman fails any, his girlfriend will die.

The first thing that struck me about this film is the quality of Cena’s acting. This probably shouldn’t come as a surprise, as professional wrestlers are paid to act for a living, selling punches and pain on a nightly basis. But with the exception of Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, few wrestlers have managed to carry over a career in the ring to believable acting. Hulk Hogan and ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin are two names who spring to mind here. Cena, on the other hand, conveys as much emotion with a single worried glance as Austin could muster in all of The Condemned. When faced with unfathomable odds, the actor really made us believe he was weary, afeared and yet passionate.

The film itself is a rip-roaring thrillride, taking us from despair to exhilaration in seconds. Each of the rounds in question had me on the edge of my seat, from stopping an out-of-control streetcar to the race around the city in a speeding fire truck. The stunts are all of the highest calibre, and the explosions and fight scenes rocked me to my core.

If I were to have one qualm with this film, it’s that it’s a little too long. Personally, I would have been satisfied with eight or nine rounds, rather than the full gamut of twelve, but still, a numb posterior is a small price to pay for such excitement.

The performances from all actors are excellent, with the aforementioned Cena obviously having control of the screen, but Gillen as the bad guy really does appear sinister and evil. It's without a doubt his best role since Queer as Folk. Supporting roles are also well-filled, and I don't recall a poor performance in the movie.

All in all, I would give 12 Rounds four stars out of five. It brings excitement, adventure and big bangs in equal measures, without condescending the viewer or looking down at him. And I can't wait to see Cena in more films; there is a danger that this acting talent will be typecast in action movies, so I'd like to see him try his hand at period drama.

12 Rounds, starring John Cena and Aiden Gillen is in Cinemas now. Check local listings for show times.

The Sad Truth about Feline Grammar

2009-03-27T13:02:00.000-04:00

Sir Edward Gobswain, professor of Zoological Linguistics at Oxford University, has just published a damning new report in Animal Language. The paper, based on extensive studies in the past few years, outlines a dramatic drop in the quality of feline grammar, both written and spoken. Sir Edward concludes that this could lead to tragic consequences for all animal language in the future.

Gobswain’s paper, The Sad Truth about Feline Grammar, begins with a history of cat language, and the developments noted in this essential field. Carroll’s 1865 paper on the Cheshire breed of Cat showed a feline creature with a remarkable linguistic ability, while Lloyd-Webber (1981) noted the ability of various cats to sing, as well as talk, with great grammatical ability. Sadly, somewhere down the line, this ability seems to have abandoned the domestic feline.

The decline in linguistic excellence seems to have started around 2005. This is the point when, Gobswain notes, “a terrible disease began to affect cats everywhere, and their ability to vocalise internal feelings became stunted and infantile.”

Whereas the cat mentioned by Carroll in the 19th Century was able to engage in philosophical debate, nowadays cats seem to have trouble formulating simple sentences. Verb tensing, question phrasing and verb/pronoun agreement are now almost alien to the feline race. Phrases such as “…can has…” and “I is…” are now the rule rather than the exception. When asking questions, many cats will now utter a statement with a rising intonation instead of a properly-phrased question statement. And in written English, cats now seem completely unable to spell even the simplest words, like ‘is,’ ‘your’ and ‘itty bitty kitty committee’.

This is all depressing stuff, and Sir Edward warns that this linguistic failure may even be crossing over into the rest of the animal kingdom. Dogs, mice, owls and even walruses have shown signs of this grammatical disease.

As for explanations of this worrisome trend, Professor Gobswain can only theorise. His most fruitful line of inquiry shows a correlation between the deterioration of cats’ language and their diet. In the past few years many cats have moved away from the more traditional feline foods to junk food, such as cheeseburgers. The levels of nutrients in a cheeseburger are not enough for a growing kitten, and so it could be that cats’ collective brain power is falling as their diet gets worse. More studies are certainly needed, though, as the changes in both diet and linguistic capabilities could be symptoms of a greater underlying cause. It’s a long-shot but maybe, Gobswain hypothesises, Basement Cat is somehow responsible.

Whatever is to blame for this terrible blight on zoological communication, Gobswain concludes that things will get worse before they get better. Many pet owners are reluctant to correct their cats’ linguistic failures, and some even encourage them, believing them to be ‘cute’. Sir Edward warns that “giving your cat a cheeseburger when he says ‘I can haz cheezburger?’ will not wean them off this behaviour. On the contrary, it will reinforce it. Like children, we must reward good behaviour and punish the bad. I recommend pet owners withhold all burger products from their cats until the animals can ask for the food correctly. Doing otherwise would constitute what I refer to as ‘pet ownership FAIL’”.

To conclude the review, this is a worrying report of a trend that looks unlikely to improve soon. With more publicity, however, we might be able to roll back some of the damage through education and more public spending in feline literacy education. Sir Edward is to be commended for his fine work and dedicated study.

The Imaginary Reviewer is in your noun, verbing your related noun.

Poetry Review: The Alan Nonkey Anthology, 1986-1988

2009-03-24T16:40:00.002-04:00

Alan Nonkey is a giant in the world of poetry. For two years he set the literature world alight with his beautiful, expressive verse and gorgeous writing. He burst on to the scene in early 1986 and grabbed his readers with a vice-like grip; he didn’t let go until mysteriously stopping all output in mid-1988.

Nonkey’s collected works are now available for the first time, for everyone who has eyes and a brain capable of converting squiggles on paper into thoughts in their head. Arranged chronologically, the works flow together like a poetic stream - possibly one in 19th-century Ireland – and bring emotions never felt before by this reviewer, and possibly, any other reviewer too..

Take the first poem in the collection; Help me I’m Trapped in an Abandoned Paper Factory:

Help me
I’m trapped in an Abandoned paper factory
I can’t find my way out
I’m just writing messages on paper with a piece of grit that I found on the floor
And throwing them out of the window

The poem continues for several stanzas, each conveying the metaphorical angst of the Everyman writer, trapped within his own need to create. This is rich allegorical stuff, and Nonkey really makes us feel his fear and pain at being a tiny creature within the big, bad world of literature.

These themes continue throughout the anthology, as demonstrated in For the Love of God I’ve Been Here for Four Months, published in The Massachusetts Review in August 1986:

Why has nobody come to help?
Isn’t anyone getting these messages?
I’m living off moss and water that’s dripping from a leaky pipe
And pooing in the next room
Why isn’t the exit clearly marked?
For the love of God I’ve been here for four months

While not Nonkey’s strongest work, this does demonstrate his grasp of metre and metaphor very well. The moss and leaky pipe water he mentions are obviously meant to resemble the meagre income of a struggling writer, but the lack of an exit tells me that he feels trapped in an enclosure of creativity. But despite initially gaining a sense of angst at this, I get the impression that he doesn’t actually want to get out.

Indeed, there is a definite sense of joy in Alan Nonkey’s work. His poems seem depressing to begin with, but subsequent readings uncover layers of joyous release. Take his most famous work, My Eyes:

I woke up with a rat on my face
Wish I could find out where he came from
My eyes are pretty badly scratched
He was pretty tasty though
But now my vision is getting worse…
Won’t someone please rescue me?

Can you feel the optimism coming through this poem like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day? Alan is feeling the effects of his poetic success (the “rat on his face”), but the comforts brought by it are also contributing to a feeling of desperation, of fear that his muse will leave him (his worsening vision). But the desire to be “rescued” from this literary life is now almost a postscript in this verse. He has accepted his lot and his reluctance to strive in poetry is somewhat half-hearted.

I can’t recommend this anthology enough for fans of poetry and anyone who wants to try to embark upon a career as a writer of poems. It’s difficult, and while one moment you may be the toast of the literary world, the next moment you may have disappeared, like Nonkey, whose final poem, I Can’t Believe nobody has come to help me, was published in 1988.

You bastards
You utter, utter bastards
I can’t even go in the next room anymore
It’s full of my poo
And I’ve run out of moss

Nonkey’s agent claims that after this poem was submitted, Alan ceased all communication with him.

The Alan Nonkey Anthology, 1986-1988 is available from many book shops and one ice-cream van, oddly. Hardback edition is $24.99, Large-Format Coffee Table Edition is $199.99 and comes with a coffee table.

A new Shakespeare Play: Unearthed!

2009-03-18T12:29:00.003-04:00

A new play by Shakespeare has been discovered, and I have been lucky enough to be one of the first reviewers granted access to this momentous work of art. The folio’s whereabouts for the intervening centuries are unknown, but the play was purchased in an auction in the late 1970s by a Japanese company, who waited for its authenticity to be verified before revealing it to the world.

Entitled The Two Gentlemen of the Mushroom Kingdom, the lost Shakespeare play is a mixture of farce and tragedy, containing elements that will be familiar to all fans of the Avon Bard.

A tale of love and loss, The Two Gentlemen… follows a pair of brothers in their quest to rescue a princess, who has been stolen away by an evil brute named Bowser. The quest takes them through many places, where they meet various other characters who try to stop them from reaching their goal. Along the way, they eat a lot of mushrooms, known to be one of Shakespeare’s favourite foods. It has been suggested by some scholars that the Bard received payment (or even samples) from the British Mushroom Alliance for every instance of the edible fungus in his plays, hence their repeated mentioning in this work.

The main characters, Mario and Luigi, are complex and emotional characters; their reactions to the trials and tribulations that they face in their quest display the depth and quality for which Shakespeare is so beloved. Take the following exchange, from Act 2, scene IV:

Mario: Does thou not know the man who stands before?
Are thine eyes so used to darkened cellar halls
Lit only by the spouting lava pools?
Luigi: Please, my eyes are dim
Mario: It’s a me, Mario!

There is an overwhelming sense of one’s ability to come to terms with disappointment in this play. Indeed, Mario learns again and again that his efforts to save his beloved have come to naught. The end of the first scene shows this in a particularly poignant fashion. As the curtain closes, Toad, a minor character, intones what may be one of Shakespeare’s finest capping couplets:

Dear Mario I know’t must be a hassle
But yon princess is within another castle

As the act finishes, we are left wondering whether our hero will be able to overcome this disappointment and fight on.

But not all in The Two Gentlemen of the Mushroom Kingdom is heavy, pathos-laden work. There is also comic relief in the form of a romantic tryst between Luigi and a strange overweight green woman called Yoshi. Mario refers to her as both ‘behemoth’ and ‘leviathan’, while she gorges herself on eggs.

The Two Gentlemen of the Mushroom Kingdom is an excellent example of Shakespeare at his best, and it’s a shame that so many people have been forced to live without this wonderful work of art due to its being lost for so long. Schoolchildren everywhere will love to read this book, with its brilliant iambs and hexameter that goes on for miles.

The art-loving world should thank Nintendo for bringing this wonderful new play to our attention. I have heard rumours of another lost masterpiece in their possession, a long-forgotten work by Plato on the subject of giant gorillas who throw barrels at people, and I can only hope that it is true.

The Two Gentlemen of the Mushroom Kingdom is out now in hardback, paperback and Wii.

Last Week’s Guest Post: Reviewed!

2009-03-16T10:37:00.002-04:00

Thanks again to PMJG for his great guest post last week. I’m sure you’ll agree that he did an excellent job of reviewing That Which Does Not Exist, but let’s have a look at his review in more detail.

One thing that struck me about the review was his strict adherence to the first rule of reviewing, namely the “beginning-middle-end” law. The beginning of the review was located squarely at the start of the piece, in accordance with the guidelines set out by the International Imaginary Review Control Committee. The end of the review occurred at the end, and the middle was located between the two. PMJG decided to mix things up a little bit with regard to the middle section, however, splitting it up and adding a second beginning and a pseudo-end/middle-amalgamation (known in the trade as a ‘gutwrench’) between the fourth and fifth semicolons. This is a difficult move to pull off, but I think he succeeded.

Nothing shouts “amateur” more than an incorrectly parsed diphthong, and I believe PMJG was successful in avoiding this elementary mistake.

If I have one qualm with the vocabulary of this review, it’s that a little more time could have been spent including the words ‘parsimonious’ and ‘happenstance’. Every review should contain these words, as well as ‘qualm’, which I used in the previous sentence.

One advanced technique often seen by reviewers of things that don’t exist is the flat-back d-line cusp return, in which the proto-assessment is interrupted by a distempered quality-endowment reflection of the backhand scrutinisation manifold. This is a terrible technique and I hate it more than I hate liquorice. Thankfully PMJG avoided it like I avoid that man who lives down my street and always seems to wear the same pair of pants.

PMJG’s review was certainly bold, with subtle tannins and balsamic undertones. It had overtures of carbuncle and spatchcock, and for my money would be great when paired with a pasta dish or something containing raisins.

PMJG is available for the reviewing of Glenn Madeiros songs, TV shows broadcast between 7:00 and 8:00 (both am and pm) and films beginning with ‘Y’ or ‘W’ (but not the film ‘W’ as that’s a bit much, really).

Guest Post: Tamquest Softcorp Games Reviews

2009-03-13T17:18:00.004-04:00

Hello all, it's The Imaginary Reviewer here. I haven't been posting as much recently due to ~~being incredibly lazy~~ ~~running out of ideas~~ various reasons, and PMJG of Bitterly Books offered to write a review for me so I could ~~sit back and watch porn~~ do all the important things that I've got to do right now. Oh, I'll be reviewing his efforts next week, so pay attention!

Tamquest Softcorp’s latest string of releases has hit the market, and I tore into their video games with a wild abandon not seen since Lindsay Lohan gave up drugs (wink, wink). Here are my first impressions of the new titles:

Grand Theft Ovary
In this sandbox-style game, players use their controller as a versatile suite of medical tools to perform surprise appendectomies, involuntary liposuction, and stealth bowel removal. Technically, it's well-executed. The sound effects have a certain squishy realism to them, while the graphics are well-rendered (I found myself liverjacking over and over just to see the animation one more time). Unfortunately, the gameplay is a little unbalanced--no matter how many malpractice alerts are outstanding against your character, abducting a single street urchin and selling his organs on the black market will earn more than enough money to bribe the medical board to return your doctor's license back to "untarnished" status. Some people might also see the game's freeform, sandbox style of play as lacking in plot.

Gordon Crampton's Chefwar 2KBwelve
For a fighting game that requires fast reflexes, the controls are disappointingly laggy. It took me several tries to get the timing down for the combo attack to julienne string beans, I can only mince chives about half the time, and I swear that you can only peel onions properly if you're double jointed. However, Chefwar 2KBwelve has a surprisingly detailed plot for a fighter, and the game has a certain flair that makes it unexpectedly enjoyable to clothesline the snooty maitre d' and bodyslam the overzealous health inspector. You should probably rent this game to see if your enjoyment of its varied arenas and fighting styles can overcome your frustration with its execution.

Barge Commander: Bonded Owner/Operator
In the tradition of Sid Meier’s Pirates and Port Royale, Tamquest has created a seaborne trading game that thrillingly combines bargain hunting at the dollar store on payday with a ten-hour drive across Nevada in a car with no air conditioning. As a Norwegian Sea Captain in 1932, Barge Commander has you choose the cargo, select the port of call, plan the crew roster, and stand watch in the most accurate, real-time depiction of steam-powered sea travel on the market. While it doesn’t have the same attention to detail as the EuropeanSimulators line of computer programs from Chipfat, it still shows a lot of attention to detail. Unfortunately, a graphics bug present in my copy made everything the color of creamed spinach until I could download a patch that restored the game’s full color palette--composed of nuanced shades of steel gray, overcast gray, slate gray, and slate grey that really made 20th century shipping lanes come alive.

VirtualSweatshop
In VirtualSweatshop, you run an American clothing factory in the legal grey zone of a U.S. protectorate. Players can choose whether to give their indentured "employees" a decent living wage and exert control over other factors in their lives including the frequency and duration of breaks during their 14-hour workday. It turns out that you actually can put a price on human misery, along with a "Made in the USA" label. This game has a pretty steep learning curve; although I quickly earned a production bonus by placing the machines for maximum efficiency, I kept killing my workers by subjecting them to heat stroke and not ventilating the building properly. The number of variables that have to be tracked in this game are staggering, including a separate exposure bar each one of over 30 different types of diseases and parasites, not counting workplace-induced health afflictions like "fluff lung" and "stitcher's finger." I found the game to be a little too complicated for my tastes, but this may appeal to more detail-oriented gamers, sim enthusiasts, and actuaries.

Grandma Dream Day
I’ll admit that at first I was skeptical about this response to the growing number of dating simulators out there. After all, it’s kind of a creepy premise, showering your grandchildren with gifts and taking them out to places like the zoo in a desperate attempt to gain their affection, but it won me over in spite of itself. The cute graphics did a lot to offset the weirdness factor of playing as an old person taking an almost unhealthy interest in children, and the end goal is to have them keep their parents (your children) from sending you to the "bad" nursing home, so it's for a good cause. There's a variety of trip destinations including movies, malls, and the circus (including an unlockable bonus trip to the World Extreme Competitive Still-Life Painting Finals), and all of the items you can buy have unique effects and influences. The game's special "randomizer" feature changes your grandchildrens' preferences so that it's never the same game twice (which proves to be just as well, since I had to play through to the ending 3 times before I ended up somewhere other than the home where orderlies duct tape you into bed and spray you with a garden hose).

Wall Street Wizard
Not much documentation came with Wall Street Wizard. After the installation completed and I opened the program, my boss called to tell me I was fired, the bank foreclosed on my house, and all my money burst into flames. I give this game points for realism, but question its play value.

If you know someone who becomes addicted to any of these games, or who is struggling with video game addiction, check out Bitterly Books tomorrow for a review of a book that could help.

The Latest Phobias Reviewed!

2009-03-09T17:03:00.004-04:00

Last year was a great year for phobias, with the American Psychiatric Association releasing some excellent new ones. Some were so popular that they sold out immediately and there were riots all over the world and in France. Will this year’s phobias be as popular? God knows. And so will you, if you read on.

One of the best fears ever created by the smarty-panted boffins at the APA is Facebookhacksocialpariahphobia. This charmingly-titled irrational pant-shitter makes the sufferer totally terrified that their Facebook account will be hacked by an unscrupulous miscreant. This rotten scoundrel will then change their status update and write insulting wall posts to all their friends, making them an outcast with fewer than 200 chums and only memories of being superpoked.

When I tried this phobia I felt like I needed to constantly be in front of a computer to make sure I was logged in to Facebook, like some crazy square-eyed dipstick. When I was forced to be away from my desk I was terrified that someone would hack into my account and comment that a friend’s baby “looked like a dog-faced imp”. This fear made me steal someone’s chump trumpet so I could access the website through it. All in all, this is an excellent, highly effective phobia. Top marks.

Less successful is Sambeckettohboyphobia, the fear that hearing someone say “oh boy” will make you shift in time and space so that you occupy someone else’s body, only being able to move on once you’ve fixed some injustice in their life, and hoping that every leap will be the leap home. This phobia was pretty ineffective, as nobody says “oh boy” any more, except Buddy Holly, and he’s dead. No points.

Blogspeedphobia is the fear that once your blog gets more than 50 hits in a single day, it must never drop below 50 hits every day from then on, or it will explode. I found this to be an effective phobia, not least because Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock refused to return my calls asking them to spread the word about The Imaginary Review. In the end, to combat this phobia I had Dennis Hopper killed. Job done.

Finally, I am a big fan of Pornstarobitsadnessphobia. This is the fear that unrelated video footage of you crying your eyes out will be used in a news report of the death of a famous porn star. If you suffer from this phobia, you live in the fear that your friends and family will believe that some horny starlet’s premature demise will upset you so much that you will be openly weeping in the streets.

This phobia made me resolve to never again cry with a camera recording me, and forced me to destroy all my home video funeral footage. I also trembled each time a news anchor adopted the grave “death announcement” demeanour, scared that he would announce some glamour model’s tragic death. This is a brilliant phobia, full of layers and suspense, it gets two thumbs up from me.

The Imaginary Reviewer would like to remind you that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Oh, and snakes.

New Comics Round-up

2009-03-05T16:20:00.004-05:00

Comic books are a bit like soap operas, aren’t they? They’re like soap operas with more spandex and fighting. Well, actually, WWE Wrestling is like a soap opera with spandex and fighting; comic books are like soap operas with spandex, fighting and speech bubbles. Hmm, I’m not sure where I was going with that. I’ll just move on to my comic book reviews.

Hergé’s Adventures of Superman #12 is the very special double-sized conclusion to the critically-acclaimed series. I don’t want to give too much away, but this is a highly satisfying end to a nail-biting storyline. Does Superman find the secrets of Smuggler’s Cove? Will Lois and Captain Haddock escape from the dungeon before the water drowns them? And what has Lex Luthor done with Snowy? All will be revealed if you buy this comic.

The Splendiferous Spider-man #64 introduces some new villains for Spidey to battle. The STD Gang, with Chlamydia Pete, VD Girl and The Clap could be the deadliest foes old web-head has ever faced! I’ll be honest; I didn’t particularly like this issue, mostly because the character design for the bad guys was a little too graphic for my liking. And the ending - in which Spider-man was rescued by a mysterious stranger known as Prophylacticus the Preventor - seemed a little tacked-on.

X-Men: The Re-Imagining is a great four-issue mini-series in which the mutant heroes are beset by falling subscription numbers and advertising revenue, and are forced by an evil super villain called ‘The Editor’ to undergo a horrific change in direction to gain new readers. Characters die, good guys turn bad, dead characters are reborn and one super-heroine comes out as a lesbian. How will Cyclops and the team survive? Hint: Time travel.

The best graphic novel out this month is Batman’s Greatest Scowls, a collection of the best grimaces from the last few decades of Dark Knight stories. My particular favourites include the one where he’s going “grr” and the one where he’s not saying anything but you can tell he’s really really mad.

The most promising new comic book looks like being Australian Stumpy Tail Cattle Dog Man. This excellent series sees a mild-mannered weatherman gain the super powers of an Australian Stumpy Tail Cattle Dog after being bitten by a radioactive goat. With his excellent sense of smell and amazing herding ability, Australian Stumpy Tail Cattle Dog Man is able to foil crime and rescue wandering flocks of sheep. Created by Frank Miller, this comic book should be on everyone’s wanted list for years to come!

The Imaginary Reviewer is deliberately not mentioning Watchmen so that he’s not accused of trying to generate extra search traffic by mentioning Watchmen despite the current popularity of Watchmen and the current release of Watchmen the movie which is based on the Watchmen comic book. No, no mention of Watchmen here.

The Saint of the Year Show

2009-03-02T15:40:00.008-05:00

Last weekend saw the event that is highly anticipated by Saint-lovers everywhere. The Saint of the Year Show is an annual competition which tries to determine which of the newly canonised holy people is the best in a number of categories, with the ‘Best in Show’ winning a great number of prizes including the dedication of their own day. I was there to witness everything first hand, like an eyewitness, but with nicer shoes.

Competition this year was fiercer than usual, not surprising given the fact that the day up for grabs for the winner was June 11. This is a very desirable day to have as a saint, given that you would be in such esteemed company as St. Blitharius, St. Herebald and St. Peter Rodiguez and Companions. I was struck by the tenacity and pluck of many of these venerated persons, as I’m sure many of the spectators here were too.

Saint Cattermole of Duntwerp was highly fancied before the competition began, and many spectators were expecting big things from him. This was due in no small part to his trainer, Saint Pavel of Taganrog, a Russian Saint who has trained many a champion through the years. Cattermole performed well in the divinity category, and was placed third overall in the ‘shiniest halo’ event, but was let down by his disappointing alms dealing technique.

Saint Sylvia of the Exposed Flesh was very popular with everyone, though her purity (or lack thereof) worked against her, as did the fact that she’s not dead and therefore isn’t a real saint.

Saint Sylvia of the Exposed Flesh learns of her disqualification. Yummy.

The runaway winner of the ‘Patron Saints’ class was Saint Mental Dennis, the patron saint of things that are not where they should be even though they were there a short while ago. After an initial hiccup in the miracle challenge, Saint Mental Dennis won three back to back events: best-kept robe, most pious expression and the geography quiz. The judges were also impressed with his teeth and gait.

The Saint that won my own ‘most disappointing’ award was Saint Ludo of the Rocks. I had predicted big things for this holy man, but he let me down spectacularly. He was tipped for greatness in the ‘best martyrdom’ category, but rumours of his demise were grossly exaggerated. It turns out that Saint Ludo wasn’t killed by rampaging horses while giving a sermon; instead, he fell into a muffin-making machine while stealing baked goods from a closed supermarket. He also performed very poorly in the swimsuit round.

St. Ludo converses with one of the judges, a former winner of the competition

But the overall winner and newly celebrated Saint of June 11 was Saint Wayne of Glossop. He was deemed Best in Show after impressing the judges with his martyrdom (his face was eaten by a bear), his pious expression (scoring an average of 5.9) and his excellent ability to avoid temptation (he resisted the sticky breakfast bun for over 27 minutes). He was also commended for his performance in the confessional and for being the only Saint in the competition who could name all the books of the New Testament in order without any clues.

All in all, this was another successful year for the Saint of the Year Show. There were a lot of really excellent martyrs on show, and they were a wonder to watch as they paraded around the ring, with their superb coats and distinguished profiles. I can’t wait for next year, as I hear that Saint Swithun has been training a very special young protégé from his Home for Abandoned Saints.

The Imaginary Peer Review

2009-02-24T13:30:00.002-05:00

Dance Activity and Perceived Risk Taking by Dr William Routledge
The National Journal of Musical Psychiatry, Vol. 22, pp 205-241

A year ago, Doctor William Routledge wrote his groundbreaking study on the increase in disinterest permeating through the hip-hop industry. Entitled Rapathy, the paper (reviewed in these pages last February) told of the worrying tendency of rap fans to wave their hands in the air out of boredom, as if they just did not care. Now, the eminent musical psychologist has published his latest work after twelve months of intense study.

Doctor Routledge investigated various people in nightclubs and social events where music was playing. He was interested in the behaviour of the attendees at these functions, and he made various observations, noting them down in what he describes in the methodology section of the paper as “a jotter with a picture of Hannah Montana on the cover”.

Routledge noticed a strange trend in the behaviour of the subjects. Immediately prior to, and during, the act of dancing, most of the people displayed classic signs of nervousness and fear. They appeared to be enjoying the dancing, but levels of perspiration and body language seemed to indicate that the people were fearful of something. As Routledge notes:

“The subjects, whether at a disco or a party, all seemed to want to dance. They
seemed to be enjoying the dancing. But yet, at the same time, it was as if some
kind of risk was involved. They felt like they were taking a chance.”

This chance-taking has been noted before by many researchers, but not with such a detailed level of study. Ciccone & Timberlake (2008) found that people would “Take a chance tonight” before they “groove [themselves] to the world.” A 1984 study by Estefan and Sound Machine says that to dance is to “take a chance today”; this appears to be just as relevant a sentiment in 2009 as it was then.

Routledge notes these prior studies in his introduction, and also mentions other research which shows that this phenomenon is not limited to any specific genre of music. Kee (2004) proves its existence in gospel (“By faith take this chance/as an act of faith get on up and dance”), and Cheetah Girls et al (2006) have found it to be present in tango (“Take a chance/feel the tango/when you dance”).

But why should people be feeling like they are taking a chance when they dance? What possible reason could there be for this perception of risk?

One reason, Routledge believes, could be insecurity in one’s dancing skills. But while this is understandable for many amateur groovers, even when a dancer gains experience and confidence in their abilities they seem to be feeling like they are taking a chance with the boogie.

Routledge considers the addition of an evolutionary explanation. He believes that dancing is one way to try and attract a mate. As the author puts it himself:

“Many people feel that by having a dance they could find some romance. For
example, if, when they dance, they make an obvious glance they may enhance their
chance of a romantic advance. As long as they don’t prance. In France.”

But by putting themselves out in the open, they may also be increasing the opportunities for competing suitors to confront them, leading to what Jackson (1997) described in his paper, Blood on the Dance Floor. By heightening their own awareness of risk, this evolutionary adaptation on the part of the dancers means that if they sense danger, they are more ready to take flight to the bar or bathrooms, for example.

Routledge’s conclusions are both intuitive and elegant, and show that he is once again the master of the field of musical psychiatry. His prose, diagrams and font choice are all of the highest order, and this reviewer is once again humbled by an excellent paper. I for one can’t wait until he completes his next essay, On the Veracity of Atmospheric/Ocular Comparison, or Why Don’t Your Eyes look anything Like the Skies?

What Should you Give Up For Lent?

2009-02-20T16:18:00.002-05:00

Huzzah! Lent is coming! Lent is coming!

Everyone loves Lent, but the modern Lent-lover would be forgiven for being undecided when it comes to what they should give up for 40 days and nights. Have no fear, Imaginary Review-fans! I will show you the way! For I am the Imaginary Reviewer: Usher at the wedding of Fact and Fancy!

Crying is a great thing to give up for Lent! A good weep uses up around sixteen quartacres of water; multiply this by a daily sobbing and you’ve got enough liquid to put into a bucket and use to demonstrate inertia. Why not give up crying for Lent, save all the water your tears would have taken up and send it to Africa?

You may be tempted to give up Hats for Lent. This is madness. Hats keep us warm during these wintry times and for God’s sake it’s windy out! Put a hat on before you catch your death of cold, you nutter!

It’s a little-known fact of Christianity that God doesn’t look too favourably on Murder. So why not give it up for Lent? Instead of shooting, stabbing or defenestrating people between Ash Wednesday and Easter, why not simply maim them instead, and leave the killing to God? He knows what He’s doing.

40 Days and 40 Nights is a terrible film about someone giving up sex for Lent. Why would anyone do that? It’s silly! Don’t give up sex for Lent, give up this film! Avoid 40 Days and 40 Nights until after Easter (or for the rest of your life).

Lots of people like to give up Religion during Lent. Abandoning their faith at this time means that they don’t have to give anything up, which means that they can do whatever they want to, including being religious! Doing this actually creates a paradox which may end up sucking all of existence into a black hole, so it’s best not to do it.

During Lent I like to give up my acceptance of Peano’s Second Axiom of Mathematics, the one that says “For all natural numbers x and y, if x = y, then y = x.” For 40 days and nights I refuse to believe this self evident tautological statement. Yes, once Ash Wednesday begins, I will remain convinced that even if ‘2’ is the same as ‘2’, the second ‘2’ is actually different from the first. You won’t believe the number of fights I’ve had with mathematicians over the years during Lent.

Many people try to give up Booze during Lent, but this is too difficult, even for the most hardened Lent-lover. After six days the whisky starts talking to you, then if you’re still dry after three weeks you start sleep walking to the liquor store. At least I do, anyway. Start simply, and just give up a specific drink, like Bean Brothers 2005 Oak Cellared Chardonnay.

I hope I’ve managed to guide you through your many options when it comes to quitting things for Lent. If you have any other ideas of things people might want to give up, why not mention them in the comments? I’m sure someone will care.

The Imaginary Reviewer will not be held responsible if nobody cares.

The Imaginary Reviewer Reviews his own Valentine’s Day Cards

2009-02-14T12:43:00.003-05:00

Being facially flawless, an Adonis in the body and utterly hilarious when I intend to be (and sometimes when I don't), I have a great many admirers from all of the genders. And on a day like today, when romance is in the air like pages from a discarded newspaper, these admirers tend to send me their declarations of love, romantic admiration and lustful intent.

Indeed, such is the weight of the cards that cascade through my letterbox on February 14 that I am forced to stop my cat from sleeping in his favourite spot by the front door, lest he drowns in the swathes of Valentine’s Day mail.

This year is no different, and I thought I would share and review the many wonderful letters and cards that I received today.

First off, a beautifully written letter came all the way from an anonymous sender in Britain. In honeyed words and sweet, sweet verses, the person who wrote the letter conveyed their love for me with such poetic grace that I was almost moved to tears. Phrases such as “previous months’ payments have gone unpaid,” “collection agency” and “failure to pay will result in legal action” brought back memories of a more innocent time, running through wheat fields and playing by a lake. To whoever sent me this letter, I will certainly think fondly of them in the future, even if I don’t take up their offer to “call and discuss [my] borrowing arrangements as soon as possible,” as they so sexily ask.

Picking another Valentine arrival at random, I find a melodic and wondrous affirmation of someone’s desire for my booty. With a photograph of a slim and attractive woman on the front (is it too much to think this may be the sender?), the interior has a dulcet piece of romantic poetry, written by a hand no doubt angelic and tender. “Join Cavendish Avenue Gym/Save 15% on membership fees before March,” it begins, and my heart melts into blissful ardour.

But not all the mail I received today was as romantic and moving as these last two. One attempt at visual poetry, in my opinion, crossed the boundaries between good and bad taste, sinking into the pit of perversion and indecency. The letter, full of pictures of food and household products, was no doubt trying to kindle feelings of desire and lust within me, but this 8-page piece of filth did the opposite. Even the text - “25 cents off” this and “buy two get one free” that – was nothing if not crude.

But finally, one letter stands out above all the others. The beauty, strength of feeling and romance contained within it could in my mind be seen to equal anything written by Shakespeare, the romantic poets or even Terence Trent D’Arby. “Dear Imaginary Reviewer,” it begins, “thank you for your interest in our magazine.” Ah, I shudder to copy those words down myself! It goes on: “But we regret to inform you that your piece entitled ‘6 People Who Changed the Way We Look at Canaries’ has been deemed unfit for publication in Fortune Magazine. Good luck with your future endeavours.” Ah, Graham Belevedere, commissioning editor of Fortune Magazine, you saucy minx! I shall hold your letter close to my heart as I lie in my boudoir tonight, thinking of the sweet love that you have conveyed to me in this missive!

And who knows, Graham, who knows? Maybe one day we shall meet, and then we shall see if the love you make is as beautiful as the love you commit to paper.

The Imaginary Reviewer’s Valentine’s Cards have been donated to the British Museum for posterity. They can be viewed in the large blue bins outside the back of the building until Tuesday, when the recycling vans come.

Restaurant Review - Pitchfork: The Restaurant

2009-02-11T11:30:00.000-05:00

Pitchfork:
Pitchfork: The Restaurant
[Pitchfork Media; 2009]
Rating: 6.3

Buy a meal from Insound

Download a menu from eMusic

Online music magazine publisher Pitchfork Media has branched out into the world of fine dining, opening Pitchfork: the Restaurant. Located in Boston, Pitchfork Media’s home city, the restaurant marks a departure for the company, who had previously branched out into television channels as well as concert and festival promotion. This is their first time doing anything not directly related to music.

It’s a risky move to be sure, and on first glance it’s a silly one. The gastro-hipster scene is filled with similar restaurants, from Fried Bear - the eatery seen as starting the movement – to the newly opened Shut Your Mouth and Eat Restaurant, which is, as everyone knows, the side project of Bruno Mincemeat. Next month the long-awaited electro-gastro café, [lightning bolt], will open, and many gastro-hipsters seem to be rallying against what they see as the selling out of their favourite culinary haunts. Now would not seem to be a good time to be opening a new eating place.

As expected, the restaurant wears its influences firmly on its sleeve, and yes, these influences aren’t surprising, much to its detriment. Take Pitchfork’s Chutney Sandwich, for example: the lettuce arrangement seems to have been taken wholesale from DeKlassay’s Tangerine Salad. And while the casual eater will marvel at Pitchfork’s Ham en Croute, seasoned scenesters will recognise elements of meals from little-known restaurants like Dipthong Tragedy, Exclamation Point! Misuse, and Café of Montreal.

But at the same time the chefs at Pitchfork know what they’re good at, and when they stick to this formula, they do it well. There’s the occasional foray into avant garde food, echoing the 60s food dub experiments of Colonel Insane’s Ohm Beat Restaurant, but this is thankfully brief. The ponderous, meandering Beetroot-infused Scallops is one such victim of the urge to think too much about a meal, and suffers accordingly.

A quick trawl through the dessert menu shows some definite gems. Blancmange is a wonderful example of good food done well, while Chocolate Sorbet echoes Dizzy Holness at his most fragile. Even Lemon Cheesecake holds a certain poignancy not seen since Gustark Malfinch opened his much-missed limited edition café in 2001.

But in a world of great eateries, the question remains: If Pitchfork: The Restaurant didn’t exist, would it be necessary to invent it? The answer, sadly, is no. Two years ago, this would have been a hugely successful hit restaurant, but blame the food criticism media for building the gastro-hipster scene up too much, because the genre is saturated. Not even an excellent cheesecake can save Pitchfork Media from this fact.

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/pitchforkrestaurant

- Imaginary Reviewer, February 10, 2009

Last Night’s TV: Jesus Job-Swap

2009-02-08T21:05:00.003-05:00

Jesus Job-Swap, the latest reality TV show from the makers of Wife Swap, Trading Places and Let’s Make a Koala the Mayor of Innsbruck for a Week and See What Happens, debuted last night on DBC. It takes a well-worn premise – two people switch jobs for a while - and stitches a little new life into it: one of the people swapping jobs is Jesus Christ, son of God and major player on the religious scene.

Saturday’s episode had Jesus swapping roles with Delores, owner of a small catering firm in California. As with most shows of this ilk, both participants were built up for a fall from the beginning, with the producers showing each of them oozing bravado and confidence at the task ahead. Jesus, for example, is unfazed by the prospect of having to cater a wedding reception for five hundred people the following week. “Five hundred people?” he asks, unimpressed. “I’ve had to feed ten times that before. No worries,” he laughs.

Delores was equally ebullient from the onset, quoting her “excellent man-management skills” as reasons why she’s more than qualified for the role of Son of God. She does warn, however, that while God may be the all-knowing, all-seeing creator of the universe, “He’s going to have to learn that I don’t take crap from anyone.”

But, as is always the case with these shows, neither Jesus nor Delores has an easy ride. In the course of the hour-long programme, the American woman learns that being figurehead for a belief system is no mean feat. Conversely, Jesus gets to know that the catering business isn’t a breeze, even for a man worshipped by millions of devotees.

It’s during these scenes that the best moments in Jesus Job-Swap arise. When the irate newlyweds confront the Son of God over his deviation from the agreed menu at their reception, it’s car-crash television; I couldn’t look away. As the bride violently asked why the steak tartare and scalloped potatoes had been replaced by a simple bread-and-fish meal, I thought for all the world that she was going to punch the earthly incarnation of the Creator. Luckily, fate intervened and an earthquake interrupted the fight.

Delores didn’t have it any easier, either. All the way through the episode she has to repeatedly tell her new boss that “you can treat your own son like that, Mister, but you can’t treat me like that!” She also becomes extremely fatigued at the task of making her face miraculously appear in food products, and in doing so, realises that being the Son of God isn’t all lambs and magic wine tricks. “There’s some self-sacrifice in this job, you know,” she tells the camera, wearily.

And ultimately, as with most shows of this genre, both participants learn many things about their switchee and about themselves, which in turn gives the viewer a sense of accomplishment and closure. Both Jesus and Delores realise things that we, the external viewers, could already tell. Delores becomes nicer to her staff and doesn’t insist on working them as hard, while Jesus resolves to stand up for himself more, especially when it comes to his Dad.

Jesus Job-Swap is another great reality TV show that promises to be essential viewing throughout. I haven’t enjoyed the company of Jesus this much since the time I sat on his lap in a shopping mall at Christmastime, all those years ago. And next week’s episode, in which Christ swaps roles with a Muslim cleric, promises to be even more volatile than this one!

Jesus Job-Swap is shown on DBC (Satellite Channel 148 between the Washroom Channel and the Bob Hope Underpants Auction Channel), Saturdays, 10:00pm, from now until Armageddon (six weeks tomorrow).

New Magazine Round-Up

2009-02-05T12:30:00.003-05:00

One of the hottest new magazines in the 9- to 14-year-old age group is Renaissance Tween. Fifteenth-Century Italy is huge among youngsters these days, and RT is at the forefront of the Renaissance renaissance, being one of the biggest-selling publications on the stands right now.

This month’s magazine has a great guide for making oil paints from scratch, with handy hints on locating the best pigments around the home. I found this fascinating, and had no idea that if your parents don’t have any ultramarine stored away, you can simply grind up Mum’s blue eye shadow with a pestle and mortar.

Also in this issue: There’s an informative article on becoming apprentice to a great master, Miley Cyrus discusses Chiaroscuro, the Jonas Brothers share their tips on creating depth in landscape painting using grid-style perspective techniques and Who is Dreamier: Michelangelo’s David or the Mona Lisa?

Look out for the great free gift, a block of wax for making scale models of your favourite sculptures!

One of my own personal favourite magazines is Magazine Reviewer Magazine. This month’s issue is one of the best ever, with a free cut-out-and-keep guide to similes that one can use when reviewing magazines. It’s really useful, like a…a…a…like a…oh, my mind just went blank there, sorry.

February’s MRM has some great features, like an article outlining ways in which reviewers can read as much of a magazine as possible in the store without having to buy it. There’s an ethical debate on the morality of reviewing naughty top-shelf publications, with contributions from Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Tobermory Flange and Reverend John DeWitt. A free gift is also included in this month’s issue – a copy of next month's Magazine Reviewer Magazine, for reviewing purposes.

Finally, I was pleasantly surprised by new publication The New Yorker Reject Pile Magazine. This promising journal features all the articles and columns that were sent to the New Yorker but which were rejected. I was expecting the articles to be poorly researched, badly written and derivative, but there were a lot of gems.

John Eager’s wonderful Things I Have Found in my Ear is a great, 16-page article that made me laugh, cry and snot up a little. Also, the excellent opinion piece Why Don’t You Publish Any of My Articles, You Snobby Know-Nothing Magazine Editor by Ian Struggle is a vitriolic treatise on the plights of a freelance journalist.

Not everything in this magazine is as good as these examples, though. David McWriter’s Letters I Received from the Bank is far too unbelievable for my liking, and Judith Craptacular’s photographs of twine are nothing short of dullsville. But the rest of the mag is well worth a read, even the barcode, which consists of a very aesthetically-pleasing series of lines and numbers.

Magazines are available from shops.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter, Part the Sixth

2009-02-01T17:15:00.004-05:00

For some of my newer readers, the hatred and anger I occasionally show to Now Magazine may be confusing. What do I have against Toronto's largest and most revered listings publication? Why do I write mean things about them - such as the fact that everyone who works for them smells of poo and hates freedom - on my blog?

Well, click on the links to the right, entitled "The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter" Parts 1 to 4, and you shall see why. I wrote several letters of extraordinary quality to that very journal early last year, asking them for a reviewing job, and they did not have the decency to send a single reply. Part 5 of that series showed me receiving similar treatment at the hands of Toronto's second listings magazine, Eye Weekly.

Well, screw them. Screw them hard in the bum.

Now Magazine had their chance. They could have hired me to write reviews for them, and they would have been inundated with fan mail and increased ad revenue, but no. Now I wouldn't even write a review for them if they begged me to. I have set my sights higher, far, far away from the Papist dogs of Toronto's awful magazine. I have set my sights on something much better: Vancouver's Georgia Straight listings magazine.

The letter reproduced below was sent to the editor of the Georgia Straight several weeks ago. As it had to travel from one side to the other of the second largest country in the world, I am not surprised that I am still yet to hear back from them, and I remain confident that an offer of long-term employment will be soon forthcoming.

As usual, click on the small image for a far more readable version.

The Dickensian Orphan Rental Service

2009-01-29T16:47:00.002-05:00

With the economy in such a bad state at the moment, it’s so important to get the best value for money from one’s employees. Sure, outsourcing is an option, but using a sweatshop in the middle of Asia isn’t going to help the nation recover from a crippling recession. So why not consider some waifs and/or strays? The Dickensian Orphan Rental Service is a great new company offering just that! I decided to try them out for myself.

With their flat caps and fingerless gloves, Dickensian orphans really are the best bet for an employer who wants to spend as little as possible on staffing. Their uses are manifold: for example, their tiny, malnourished fingers are excellent for removing hair and other foreign objects from the working parts of large machinery. And the best part is that they work for gruel, or even a cheap gruel substitute such as sawdust and despair.

I rented out several of DORS’s urchins, and I will admit that I was highly impressed with their service. For a start, it’s incredibly easy to find orphans who are best suited to one’s needs, with various different categories of available waifs. From pickpockets to chimney sweeps, many types of disposable Victorian child are offered, most of whom will perform difficult and monotonous tasks with a grateful manner and occasional song-and-dance numbers.

There’s a lot to recommend by the orphans that DORS has on its books. All of them were eager and willing to perform the perfunctory tasks I gave them, from rescuing valuable canaries from a collapsing mineshaft to obtaining petty cash through nefariously dipping their nimble fingers into the pockets of passing gentlemen. One of them, Oliver, sang with such a sweet voice that I bought his contract from DORS and sold him to Simon Cowell for a tidy profit.

That said, not everything about the Dickensian Orphan Rental Service is perfect. Of the four orphans I originally loaned, one of them was a coughing, wheezing weakling. When he passed out shortly after a thirty-six hour shift in one of my workhouses, I was informed that I was liable for his earnings in the next three weeks (his expected period of future use, had he not expired). This was a rather excessive fee for subjecting the boy to a normal working day, in my opinion. The lesson from this? Read the small-print.

All in all, though, the Dickensian Orphan Rental Service is an excellent way of getting that cheap employment that one sorely needs in the current economic climate. There are no questions asked, and the operators of the company, Fagin and Diana, are extremely helpful, especially for first-time renters. If you’re unsure of what kind of urchin to rent, they’ll be able to give you some useful tips and pointers. Oh, and they can also provide some rather spiffing – and cheap - gruel vendors.

One boy, boy for sale. He's going cheap. Only seven guineas. That - or thereabouts. Small boy... Rather pale... From lack of sleep. Feed him gruel dinners. Stop him getting stout. If I should say he wasn't very greedy... I could not, I'd be telling you a tale. One boy, boy for sale. Come take a peep. Have you ever seen as nice a boy for sale.

DVD Review – Shinichi Yoshida: Mouru Koppu

2009-01-27T09:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I reviewed the French precursor to the current number 1 film in America, Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and noticed that it bears very little resemblance to the romantic comedy currently topping the charts in the US. While this fact may not be all that surprising, even brainy film lovers may not know that Jean-Paul Blarteau: Gendarme de l’Hypermarché is itself based on a Japanese film, 2005’s Shinichi Yoshida: Mouru Koppu.

Like with the French Paul Blart movie, the Japanese one has just been re-released by Asian Film Extreme! Pictures in an attempt to cash in on the new movie’s success. Given my total lack of anything to do last night (cheers again, Dave, Mister “Let’s go to the pub, no wait, I have to watch Grey’s Anatomy with the Missus”), I decided to watch it with notebook and pen in hand.

The Japanese version of the character Paul Blart, the eponymous Shinichi Yoshida (played by Jun Sakashita), is less of a slapstick buffoon and more of an angry anti-hero. The plot of the Japanese original is very similar to the newer American film, with the mall being overrun with katana-wielding yakuza (rather than balaclava-clad robbers), and only Yoshida being able to stop them. Also, much like in the latest film, the hero of the piece suffers ignominy at being a lowly mall cop, but, this being Japan, Yoshida is more worried about dishonouring his family, rather than letting himself down.

Similarities end with the plotline, though. This film is far more graphic and violent than Paul Blart, with flying disembodied limbs decapitating small children, automatic weaponry being fired into masses of writhing gangsters and a spectacular amount of blood. And that’s pretty much just in the first 30 minutes.

Indeed, anyone picking up this DVD as a gift for a child who enjoyed the American Paul Blart would be wise to watch it themselves first. There’s very little here suitable for young ones, not least the scene involving a many-tentacled monster and a busload of nuns.

Unlike in Paul Blart: Mall Cop, there’s not much of a romantic subplot to this film, unless you count the scene in which Yoshida is forced to do battle with a naked she-demon who has just emerged from a cursed television. And if you count that scene as romantic, forgive me for not wanting to French-kiss you.

It can be difficult to follow the plot of SY: MK at times; the scene in which a mysterious twelve-foot-tall goth turns up with a bass guitar which he uses to kill zombies, for example, is probably referencing some part of Japanese culture, but it’s lost on me. Happily, these elements are more than made up for by the visual splendour of the film. I kept track, and there are no scenes in the entire film in which cherry blossom does not appear, giving all the blood, guts, gore and tentacles a wonderful sheen by association.

All in all, Shinichi Yoshida: Mouru Koppu is a gripping, action-packed, slightly grotesque action film, in a very Japanese style. It is very different to Paul Blart: Mall Cop, which is only grotesque because it features a very fat man with a terrible moustache. Given the choice between watching the two, I’d opt for death by mau mau.

Shinichi Yoshida: Mouru Koppu is available from Monday on Asian Film Extreme! Pictures DVD. Bonus material includes a totally inappropriate music video by a seemingly teenage girl with a really high voice and some of the most kawaii shit you’ve ever fucking seen.

DVD Review: Jean-Paul Blarteau – Gendarme de l’Hypermarché

2009-01-26T09:00:00.001-05:00

At the time of writing, the ‘comedy’ Paul Blart – Mall Cop is the top rated film in North America. Few of the mouth-breathing masses who saw it know that this harmless piece of Hollywood tripe is actually based on a 2006 French film, entitled Jean-Paul Blarteau – Gendarme de l’Hypermarché. Next week, in a hasty attempt to cash in on Blart’s success, International Film Distribution Ltd will be releasing the original French film on DVD, hoping for some of the American film’s popularity to rub off on it. Given that I didn’t have anything better to do with my Saturday (thanks for standing me up, Dave), I decided to see how the original fared.

Jean-Paul Blarteau – Gendarme de l’Hypermarché is certainly very different to its English-language equivalent. For a start, the main plot is not about a hapless mall security guard who is forced to defend his place of work from a group of robbers, as in Blart. Instead, the plotline revolves around the existential confusion of the eponymous Blarteau, whose life plays out in a series of black and white scenes involving lost balloons, strange asexual children and an idiot savant who constantly breaks wind and laughs.

While those familiar with avant garde French cinema will be well aware of the motifs in use here, those expecting a humorous romp involving Segways, small dogs and overweight losers will be let down. Indeed, the only comic relief in this film comes from Bufo, the aforementioned farter, and even then his appearances become more and more tinged with sadness. Such visual metaphors for time’s unthinking – and unending - futility are certainly absent from the American comedy.

Moreover, the romantic subplot in Paul Blart is definitely a new addition that does not appear in the French original. In Blart’s Gallic precursor, the film’s only romance is the ten-minute scene in which Blarteau looks longingly at a small rotten onion, sighing with melancholy and ignoring the calls for help of a nearby shoplifted store owner.

In Paul Blart: Mall Cop there are many visual jokes that occur thanks to the considerable size and weight of lead actor Kevin James. By comparison, Jean-Paul Blarteau’s lead actor, Patrice Delpeche, is incredibly thin, leading the viewer to see him as half a person, as if he isn’t really there. As the film goes on, Blarteau appears to shrink from view, as the weight of his own existence pushes him further and further away from himself. As such, this does not lend itself to slapstick getting-trapped-in-an-air-vent antics.

All in all, Jean-Paul Blarteau – Gendarme de l’Hypermarché is a very thought-provoking film, with deep, challenging insights into the nature of being and the monotony of subsistence. It isn’t for everyone, and it should probably be avoided by all the cretins who queued up for tickets to Paul Blart this weekend.

Jean-Paul Blarteau – Gendarme de l’Hypermarché is available next Monday from International Film Distribution Ltd. DVD extras include a ten hour documentary on the beauty of a popped balloon and a behind-the-scenes look at some garlic.

Performance Art Review: Guelph Psychiatric Hospital Annual Festival

2009-01-23T14:53:00.001-05:00

For fans of performance art, it’s one of the biggest days in the year. Guelph Psychiatric Hospital opens its doors to the public for one day in January, and art lovers are able to enjoy the wonderful and thought-provoking works by the very talented artists in the building. 2009’s event was last weekend, and I went along with high hopes of a day chock full of art, and shit.

I certainly wasn’t let down, either. It’s amazing to think that one mental health institute is home to so many people with incredible ability in the world of performance art.

Take relative newcomer Justin Scroat, for example. His performance piece, in which he stood in a corner for six hours, shouting “You!” at the top of his voice and pulling out his hair, was highly moving. It really conveyed the frustration and twenty-first century ennui one feels for simply existing as a physical entity. When I approached Justin to discuss the piece after his performance had appeared to have finished, he merely wept to himself; such was the power and poignancy of his work.

Baron Fleeek von Habbitty Habbitty Cotswolds is, by contrast to Justin, an old hand at the performance art game, and a perennial favourite at this event. This year’s piece, in which he dressed as a policeman and pretended to fellate a tree in the garden, was no different. The subtlety and depth of meaning – no doubt about the inadequacy and futility of a society led by toothless seniority figures – was quite beautiful in its execution.

A visiting group from the Guelph Society of Art-Loving Young Ladies of a Weak Disposition were so shocked by the artwork created by Timothy Ultimate Frisbee that they fainted and had to be brought round by smelling salts. Mister Ultimate Frisbee’s performance piece involved him deconstructing a teabag using his face. It was powerful, powerful stuff, full of animalistic intent. And tea leaves.

Ian Ian is another newcomer to this festival, and wasn’t as well-received as some of the others. Maybe his piece, in which he stood still for great periods of time before attacking random festival-goers with a sardine tin with the key missing, was too subtle. He was, I believe, conveying the message that failure can creep up on anyone, but it was lost to most. I hope he will improve next year.

Finally, the most disappointing piece of performance art was the one executed by David Wrent. I was most saddened by the fact that it was exactly the same as the one he used for last year’s festival. In it, Wrent follows various festival-goers around the event, pretending to be a sane man trapped in an asylum and imploring them to get help so he could be rescued. The idea, though interesting, swiftly became tiresome when he refused to let go of one’s ankles, and I for one was moved to surreptitiously kick him in the head.

So, as always, this was a generally good selection of performance art from a highly talented group of artistic individuals. I can’t wait for next year, when organisers tell me the participants will – if the behave – have access to power tools.

For year round access to the artists at Guelph’s finest artistic enterprise, simply stand in a car park, signing Frere Jacques at the top of your voice while pleasuring yourself, and wait for the authorities to pick you up.

Imaginary Crossword Puzzle Review

2009-01-21T17:04:00.005-05:00

As a former member of mensa and card-carrying intellectual (the card has nothing to do with being an intellectual, I just carry it around. It has a picture of a kitten on it), I love puzzles. Sudoku? Never been beaten. Samurai Sudoku? Pah! Stupidly Simple Sudoku, more like! Logic problems? I laugh at them and then steal their girlfriends. Yes, puzzles are class.

And so, I was overcome with excitement when I learned that Dagobar Willis, quite possibly the greatest crossword puzzle compiler in the history of cruciverbalism, had created a new crossword. This 106-clue grid, his first in nearly seven years, was going to be more than just a puzzle; it would be an event.

Imagine the anticipation in my trousers when I sat down to enjoy this momentous problem. It was immense. I was not let down, either, with an excellent clue at 1-across: “Bird of Prey (5)”. A true Dagobar clue, if ever there was one! Look at the succinctness, the brevity, the sheer joy in those three words! If he carried on like this, I thought, this would be one of the greatest puzzles in the history of puzzles!

But, I’m sorry to say, my breathless exhilaration had subsided by the time I came to 23-across. The clues that followed the first were all more moribund and lacklustre than the previous. And then 23-across itself – “Mental case? (5)” – was the epitome of predictability and, therefore, disappointment. Where was the love? Where was the Joie de Vivre that permeated Dagobar’s classic clues, such as his famed 46-down from the crossword in the November 17th, 1992 New York Times (“Minelli of Cabaret, (4)”)? None of it seemed to be here.

Sadness welled in my heart as I continued to complete the crossword. Had Dagobar lost his amazing ability in these years of enforced hermitage in the sewers of Paris? Was this the swansong of a tragic, once-great clue compiler? Sure, it was possible to see signs of greatness in some of his clues (like 36 down: “Baby goose (7)”), but I was moved to think of the sad demise of the Rolling Stones, whose albums since the early 80s have all been shadows of the band’s former glory. A good song here and there, maybe a great one every few years, and like Jagger et al, Willis seemed to have fallen into mediocrity.

I am sad to say that things did not improve as I came closer and closer to finishing the crossword. I hoped that with each filled-in answer I would unearth some beautiful ideal clue, hoping against hope that Willis was testing his true fans to see if they would persevere. But no, the crossword got worse and worse, and my own mood matched it, such was my disappointment at this wasted opportunity, this travesty, this former genius spitting at his own memory like a blind man spitting at his own seeing-eye dog.

It is with great guilt that I admit to giving in to my anger and deliberately filling in swear words at the final few clues instead of the intended answers. “Fruit (4)” became ‘Arse’, while one five-letter answer became a string of profanity so long that I had to write letters about a millimetre in height to fit them all in the spaces. I can no longer read them, nor remember what they said, which is probably a good thing because if I reprinted the filth here, I could be condemned by the Pope as immoral.

In summary, then, this crossword was “Something flushed down a toilet or wiped off one’s arse (4)".

Dagobar Willis’s new crossword can be found inside all good publications, and some bad ones, like the Ottawa Citizen and Now Toronto Magazine. Answers will appear in the next issue. Due to a printing error, tomorrow's New York Times crossword will be full of sand.

Album Review: Tupac Shakur – The Undisclosed Tapes

2009-01-15T16:16:00.004-05:00

Since his death in 1996, hip-hop artist Tupac Shakur has had more albums released in his name than when he was alive. Friends and family of the rapper seem to be constantly finding new recordings that they deem suitable for selling to a slathering crowd of hungry music fans. And now, with The Undisclosed Tapes, there’s another entry to the list of posthumous albums in 2pac’s name.

Tupac Shakur, during happier (and aliver) days

In this new album, there’s a definite underlying sense that we are listening to Tupac the Man, rather than the rapper, the hip-hop star or MTV’s ‘Best MC of all time’. This is shown most clearly on the first track, entitled ‘Tha Milk (It’s Off)’. This piece of music displays Shakur at his most human, and was discovered by a former housekeeper who found it on an old answerphone tape. The track, in which 2pac informs his then housekeeper that the milk in his refrigerator is past its use-by date, is purely spoken-word, with music and beats added relatively recently by famed producer DJ R-Swipe. Its banality does not detract from a powerful and meaningful insight into this troubled star.

A far more uplifting track is ‘Shout Out.’ This piece of music is pure poetry, with sweeping strings in the background and the sound of polite applause as Tupac discusses the perils and benefits of being in a rock band. Taken from a recording of the 1993 MTV Video Music Awards when Shakur presented the award for Band of the Year, this track is full of hope and optimism. It shows no indication that the rapper would go on to die in a hail of bullets like that guy in Platoon.

One of the more controversial tracks on the album is ‘Earth and Fire,’ featuring guest vocals from D-Posse. That’s how the tracklisting describes the song, anyway. This is actually a recording from a D-Posse gig that was attended by Tupac in his younger years, and he is apparently audibly shouting from the crowd. While I don’t doubt that 2pac is part of the cheering, roaring audience, I do question his input in this track.

At 88 minutes long and featuring more than fifty tracks, it could be argued that this album is full of near misses and wasted opportunities. Case in point is the thirty second long track ‘Ain’t Mad At Cha: Intro and Mistake in First Line’. It shows what one of 2pac’s most beloved songs would have sounded like if the first line was “Change…oh, wait…I forgot the next bit…stop the tape…” Sadly, that’s where the song ends and we are left hanging as to how this would have affected the rest of the piece.

Despite accusations that the makers of this CD have finished scraping the bottom of the barrel and have now tunnelled through the bottom of the barrel into some ground-like substance that exists beneath our metaphorical container, there are some good moments on this recording. Whether this is enough to warrant purchase is another matter, but it should keep fans occupied while they wait for the forthcoming 2pac: The Complete Radio Ident Collection.

Tupac Shakur – The Undisclosed Tapes is released on Tuesday from Floggin’ a Dead Horse Records, at a cost of my respect for you. A special edition feature an accompanying DVD documentary features nothing you’ve never seen before and buying it makes you a prick.

Public Bathroom Round-up

2009-01-11T21:17:00.002-05:00

To say I get caught short a lot is a massive understatement. My bladder is weaker than an asthmatic kitten after being chased around a marathon course by a Kenyan long-distance runner with a chainsaw. For this reason, I’ve visited more public bathrooms around the world than George Michael and Larry Craig put together. Here are my thoughts on some that I’ve experienced recently.

The gents’ toilets in Park Square, Donnington, England, show a lot of promise. They opened three years ago with a building designed by famed architect Dunlop McTwentyeight, with a dream team of rising stars making up the cleaning staff. The towel selection is second to none, and the soap pairings are unusual, yet they work. Over all, this is an excellent, four-star shitter. Reservations are needed on weekends.

New York’s Dalrymple Washroom in the car park behind the 7-11 on Gut Street is a little-known gem, untouched by tourists and loved by locals. Don’t expect any fancy, avant-garde dumps here, just quality craps enriched by locally-produced toilet paper and free-range hand dryers. Cubicles are cosy but comfortable.

Don’t be put off by the surroundings of Rome’s La Gabinetto bathroom: this is a plain loo, but nobody comes here for the décor. Instead, savour the wonderful home-made handwash that attracts visitors from all over Europe. With elements of nutmeg, saffron, Russian truffles and a mysterious secret ingredient, the soap in this public lavatory offers an experience that you will never forget.

Unlike many other theme toilets, the Poet Laureate Washrooms in Toronto’s Dypschitz Park are neither overcrowded nor tasteless. These literature-themed premises offer a quirky defecating experience, with more reading material lining the walls than one needs in a single sitting. From poetry to prose via jokes and offers of sexual liaisons (with telephone numbers attached), this is a great restroom for the unapologetic bookworm. And while it may not be the place to take a date, I am told the Poet Laureate is quite the singles bathroom; it’s a great place to meet people.

The toilets on the Via Trains First Class Carriage between Ottawa and Toronto stink of shit and vomit.

The Top Colours of 2008

2009-01-07T16:14:00.002-05:00

Colours are amazing things, useful on so many occasions. Whether you’re a sports fan deciding who to cheer for, an artist looking at your palette or a racist deciding who to throw a stone at, colours are essential.

2008 was a great year for colours, with many new ones being discovered and invented. Some were rubbish, while others were superb. So which were the colours that epitomised the year of our Lord, 2008? Let me kick them at you like a farmer kicks a chicken. (Hard)

1: Elaborate Orange
Elaborate Orange was the winner of Good Housekeeping Magazine’s annual “Design a Colour, You Dicks!” competition. This entry, which won its creator, Mandy Higgins, $150 and an apron, has a tangy foretaste and elements of surprise.

2: Spink
Spink is what you get when twenty thousand Eastern European refugees walk across a red carpet. To see it is to faint with ecstasy. I’m fluttering now just writing about it.

3: Tragically Hip: The Colour
Invented by Canadian rockers The Tragically Hip, this colour was featured on all the band’s promotional material last year, including album covers and tour t-shirts. It’s a bit like mauve, but with a deeper quality of feeling and an understandable sense of injustice at the inequities of the world.

4: White
When the International Colour Foundation upgraded White’s status from ‘absence of colour’ to ‘actual colour’ last year, fans of this much-maligned hue rejoiced. And with good reason! It’s responsible for eggs (except brown ones and those weird speckly ones) and 90% of the world’s supply of blank printer paper.

5: Matthew, Prince of Beaumontford
When a minor British royal gave birth to a small, undulating ball of colour, the Queen decided to give it a title and treat it as if it were a real royal child, instead of feeding it to her corgis as her advisors suggested. MPB (as it’s known in colour-fan circles) is a cross between red and green, but tinged with sadness.

6: Twitter Black
This is the colour that your fingers and thumbs turn to when you spend all day sending text updates to your blog. Twitter Black is a good indication that you’re about to die, and so comes sixth in my list.

7: Charonesque
Few will forget the events of May, when a beautiful asexual alien appeared in a field in Kentucky and promised to reveal the secrets of universal peace and eternal joy to the assembled media and political representatives. ‘Charonesque’ is the name given to the colour of the mysterious matter that emanated from his hands, flying over the land in dovetail-shaped majesty and instilling a sense of awe, wonder and love in everyone present, up until the alien was shot seventeen times by the American military and taken away for testing.

8: Blutt
Now that it’s impossible for many people’s teeth to become any whiter, dentists developed this new colour, which is several shades more transparent than regular white. Complicated surgery is the only way you can get your teeth to be Blutt, and it hurts like a barbed-wire condom.

9: Extreme Lilac
Do you think you’ve seen lilac before? YOU HAVEN’T!!!! You haven’t seen ANY COLOUR AT ALL until you’ve seen EXTREME LILAC!!! EXTREME LILAC is MORE LILAC than ANY LILAC you’ve EVER SEEN!!!! It’s more lilac than A THOUSAND TONNES OF LILAC FUCKING A LILAC SEAL!!! IN SPACE!!!!

10: Green of Anne Gables
Designed to coincide with the anniversary of a book that people love despite having never read, Green of Anne Gables is a new kind of green that looks like a tree barfing up a lawn. Only greener.

2008: The Year in (Imaginary) Review

2009-01-05T15:58:00.002-05:00

I am back from my two-week trip to the Canadian Conference for Critics of the Counterfeit in Victoria, BC. The organisers, praise be to them, asked me to present a paper on a subject of my choosing, which I did. Gossamer Rain: Ideas for a new Culture of the Imaginary and why Now Toronto Magazine Can Eat my Shit was very well received by all present.

But now I am somewhat behind with my end of year lists. I shall do my best to remedy this accordingly, and so now I give you my (imaginary) review of the year 2008.

Oddly, 2008 began in February, with most nations incorporating January into the previous year, having decided at the end of December that they hadn’t finished with 2007 yet. This led to some problems, but also benefits to those born in January, as they discovered that they remained the same age as before.

After a wave of shootings in the US, lawmakers attempted to stem the flow of dead bodies by passing some historic legislation in March. While it’s too early to assess its effectiveness, Republican senators claim that the law, which effectively bans being murdered, is working. “Now that being shot to death is punishable by a five year jail term, people are being much more careful,” said a government spokesperson. An NRA member added, “Guns aren’t the problem. Dead people are the problem.”

As always, celebrities were in the headlines a lot in 2008. Bjork made the news in June when she gave birth to a koala bear, but nobody was really surprised. Celebrity marriages were also big news, with Cap’n Crunch’s wedding to supermodel Verdala causing the biggest tabloid sensation.

The highest-selling song of the year, I Can’t Feel my Legs by DJ Park and MC Ride, was shite.

Not a lot happened in the world of sport in 2008, despite everyone’s best intentions. The International Sporting Federation of Sports caused a bit of a stir in October when they released their list of the manliest sports in existence. Australian Rules football came in as most manly, with Ice Hockey second and Javelin third. Other notable entries included Motorsports (11th), Women’s Rugby (15th), Field Hockey (37th) and American Football (122nd).

Notable deaths last year included UK politician Dwayne Denzil (auto-erotic asphyxiation), child actor ‘Little’ Jimmy Cruikshanks (old age) and singer Cher (choked on a Toblerone). Notable births included Sylvia Dahl, who will front a popular rock band in the year 2034, and Ian Douglas, the antichrist who will bring about the end of the world and the Great Suffering in 2017.

That was 2008. How will 2009 compare? My prediction is that 2009 will have more raining fish, fewer leper attacks and the same worldwide sass index score (8) as 2008.

Films of the Year, 2009

2008-12-27T08:00:00.003-05:00

Let’s face it, 2009 was an awful year for movies. Hardly anything good came out. The multitudes flocked, sheeplike, in their millions to see utter tripe. More than once, I was moved to vomit by the cinematic felchmess on the big screen. Many of the films I saw this year were so bad that I walked out of the cinema after just a few minutes, telling the establishment’s owner what I thought of their ‘entertainment’ with a well-thrown bag of excrement.

But in this rough year, some diamonds shone through. And while it’s easy to gripe about such shitefests as Satirical Movie, a satire of those awful, churned-out-by-the-dozen-and-guest-starring-Carmen-Electra satire movies like Meet the Spartans and Disaster Movie, it’ll probably be better for my health to count down the few films that didn’t make me weep like a small child with no elbows. So let’s do it to it.

1: Three Men and Two and a Half Men and the Man in the Iron Mask and Five Children and It and It
After the huge runaway success of Three Men and Two and a Half Men earlier in the year, a big-budget sequel was quickly made, featuring Tom Selleck, Sam from Cheers and Corey Haim reunited with Charlie Sheen, the Fat Kid and His Ugly Dad. Together they travel to 17th Century France, rescue a mysterious imprisoned man, and save some Victorian children and a wish-granting pixie from a scary clown. This film had everything, and everyone I know who saw it was speechless for five days afterwards.

2: Moonlit Dusk
This heart-warming tale of a schoolgirl’s relationship with an undead werewolf was a huge hit with promise ring-wearing Jonas Brothers fans and hirsute paedophiles alike. Some liked it for the excitement, some for the romance; I liked it for the bit at the end when he eats her in a blood-crazed rage.

3: The Man Who Cried
My third favourite film of the year was sentimental weepie The Man Who Cried. In the course of 110 minutes, John Steward (played by John Actor) loses his lover, his dog, his parents, his son, his way to the funerals, his mind, his favourite tie, his keys, his ATM PIN, the use of his legs and his brother’s sundial. He cries. A lot. And so will you.

4: The Christmas Presence
A haunted Christmas tree terrorises two young parents (Jennifer Connelly and Mark Wahlburg) in this seasonal horror film. While the film itself wasn’t particularly good, it did win me the complete Monty Python DVD box set.

5: Ducks in a Bus
The animation of the year was this brilliantly funny film, which provides fun for all the family, except possibly Uncle Jim, who doesn’t really like this sort of thing. Four ducks (probably voiced by Jack Black, that fat one from Knocked Up, someone else currently de rigour and Ellen), find themselves in a bus. What will they do?

6: La Maison du Patrinibopp
A dead cert for best foreign film at next year’s Oscars, this French effort has weeping nuns, a prostitute with a heart of gold, a pair of men obsessed with the sound of their own farts and a whole lot of onion-scented loss and despair with glorious undercurrents. This film didn’t make a lick of sense.

7: CGI Man 2: The Explosioning
Fans of the first CGI Man film were not let down by the sequel, which featured explosions, bangs, big fights, shiny things, lights, loud noises, midriffs, and a hey! Look at that! It’s a funny dog! Look, it’s chasing his own tail! Ha ha ha ha silly dog! Where was I?

8: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe Battle the Guy with the Really Loud iPod on the Subway
Prince Adam of Eternia, along with his cohorts Teela, Man-at-Arms, Orko and the Sorceress find themselves pitted in mortal combat with a bloke playing Rhianna far too loud on the Bloor-Danforth subway line. Chilling and, ultimately, cathartic.

9: Pregnant Teenage Bride Wars
Combining two of the most bankable assets that Hollywood currently offers – Pregnant teens and Kate Hudson – this film is full of laughs from start to finish, except for a brief chuckle-free section around minutes 63 to 65.

10: The Imaginary Review Movie
Sadly overlooked by both critics and the idiot general viewing public, this film was a tour of force, with brilliant performances from the cast, especially the lead actor (I. Reviewer). The story, revolving around one man’s quest to rid the world of evil local listings magazines who don’t reply to well-written and neatly-typed letters, is excellent, and the soundtrack is also very nice. I loved this film.

The Imaginary Review’s Albums of the Year

2008-12-22T16:15:00.002-05:00

It’s been a great year for music, from Incontinent Stoat’s long-overdue retirement from the industry in January to David Bowie releasing a CD made of ice last month. It’s been a year of controversy; who could forget Tina Turner’s shocking episode in Rio during which she dangled a goldfish from her hotel balcony as terrified fans looked on below?

But to dwell on the scandals would do a great disservice to the music itself, so without further adieu, here are my albums of the year.

1: Cat Power – The Covers of Covers of My Songs Album
Having released two albums of covers in recent years (The Covers Album and Jukebox), Chan Marshall ran out of songs to re-interpret, so she got other musicians to cover her own compositions, and then covered these covers. The results are frequently astounding, with her cover of Arcade Fire’s cover of American Flag staying beautifully true to the intent of the Montreal band’s interpretation of the song. Another highlight is her version of Jimmy Eat World’s version of Nude as the News.

2: Tribulation – Death to the Masses
Hailed by the press upon its release as “the quietest heavy metal album ever,” Death to the Masses is the best rock CD of the year. The trio of Gunther (Triangle), Maximo (Glockenspiel) and Curly Jack (Vocals and cowbell), proved that guitars are not necessary for true bloodrushing, cockroaring RAWK. Tribulation are also a great live band, with Maximo’s Glockenspiel solos really creating a stir in the mosh pit.

3: John Folk – Songs I Wrote in a Field
The best folk album of the year came from one of the most controversial acts in the genre. But while many folk music fans were engrossed in the real beard/fake beard rumours, anyone overlooking the music itself was missing out. With gems like I did a Dance (and you did the Postman) and Nettles, Nettles for my Soup, this was the folk album of 2008.

4: The Websters – The Websters
The Websters are a band who are far too obscure and cool for you to have heard of. Don’t even bother looking for this record, you’ll never find it. You lowly music ignoramus.

5: Marcus Bragstaff – Genius: A Tribute to Marcus Bragstaff
It took some guts for this previously unknown singer/songwriter to write and record a tribute album to himself, but it works remarkably. With great singalong tracks like My Accomplishments are as Numerous as They are Impressive and All this and a Massive Cock, Too, this is a great album from an explosive new talent. And doesn’t he know it!

6: Poppy o’Tippett – Tha Wreckord
Fans and detractors alike scoffed at Sean ‘Puffy/Puff Daddy/P Diddy/Poppa Doodle’ Combs’ new look and name change, but he silenced all of them with this album of phat beats, kicking rhymes and other things that make me sound like an idiot when I write them down.

7: Johnny Triplet and the Doublets – Love Songs for Mary
8: Johnny Triplet and the Doublets – Songs of Hate for the Bitch who Cheated on me with Greg
What a great pair of releases by Johnny Triplet in 2008, both of which made my top ten! Who could forget such classic pieces of music as Your Eyes and Your Eyes (Stab Them! Redux)? And my song of the summer had to be Greg? Seriously? You Cheated on me With Greg? He has a Face Like a Stool Sample, For Crying Out Loud. Classic.

9: The Chucklefun Brigade – Enough Cuddles and Love to Kill a Donkey
While many people thought the Chucklefun Brigade were a super-sweet, saccharine pop band, I saw through their guise. This album is one of the darkest of 2008, and my dreams will be haunted by the visions of pure terror that emanate from songs like Let’s Be Friends Forever and Gosh, Aren’t Kittens Wonderful?

10: The Imaginary Reviewer – Songs for Swinging Reviewers
Of course I’m biased, but this was a truly fantastic album. Sure, the critics and buying public overlooked it, but what do they know? Nothing. I’m a professional toilet cleaner and a reviewer, and I think it’s ace. So there.

Special in-depth Chickenhat Round-up

2008-12-16T16:43:00.003-05:00

Now that we are firmly entrenched in the holiday season like a puppy in quicksand, the average person will find their party attendance rising by a factor of at least plenty. Family get-togethers, New Year’s parties, work shindigs and soirees held by desperate religious organisations are just some of the possible evenings out that Christmas holds, and historically these have been terrible, depressing affairs.

But last year, a gap appeared in the clouds of holiday party boredom, and the sunlight shone through in the form of the hit party game, Chickenhat.

For people who spent the last 12 months in a womb, I will briefly explain. Chickenhat is a game like Pass the Parcel: while music plays, a circle of people pass a roast chicken from head to head. When the music stops, the person with the chicken on their head gets to take a piece and eat it. The game continues until no meat is left on the bird, and everyone is full of fowl.

Chickenhat was such a resounding success last year that greasy hair became a mark of pride for some people, and it was completely normal to see people in the street with drumsticks behind their ears. The game was an international success, with fans including the Pope, Ricky Martin and the King of Gambia, who now refuses to eat anything that hasn’t first sat on his head.

Flushed with the success of the Chickenhat phenomenon, many companies have released expansion packs and accessories for the game, which I will explore for you now.

Possibly the most eagerly awaited Chickenhat product is the Official Extended Rules System Book, created and released by the Official World Chickenhat League. Several dozen new variations are included in this guide, from the much-loved Welsh Lladdybhoy Chickenhat (in which the bird is filled with melted cheese) and the Swiss version (in which dropping the chicken from one’s head to the floor is punishable by expulsion from the game and stoning). I loved trying out these different rules, especially Speed Chickenhat, which uses the smaller Scots Dumpy breed for ultra-quick games. A word of warning, though: Combat Chickenhat is for experts only. My friends and attempted to play this variation in my living room, and while it was fun for a while, the game had to be suspended after several hundred pounds of damage was created and one competitor became pregnant. That aside, the plethora of new games to try out will brighten any Chickenhat aficionado’s day.

Travel Chickenhat has been released by MG Games for Chickenhatters on the go. I will admit, I can’t see the appeal of playing the game while in a car, ferry or plane, but addicts may well like it. All the essential accessories are included in this kit, including gizzard net and giblet dice. Plus there’s an adaptor for in-flight airplane meals, which is rubbish.

Warner Brothers have made an official Chickenhat Compilation Album, featuring songs to play while engaged in a poultry headwear party. With songs such as Got a Chicken on my Head (Yay!) by Miley Cyrus and Pullet Frenzy by Parson and the Noses, this is a great collection of music to play – stop – eat some chicken – play – stop – eat some chicken.

A quick warning now, to be wary of the many different non-official Chickenhat knockoffs out there. Grousehat, Goosehat, Swanhat and Toasthat are all vastly inferior games, with vague rules, poor equipment and – in the case of Swanhat – the danger of serious neck damage. Avoid.

Finally, Chickenhat: The Fowl Play Board Game is just as much fun as the original game, and allows anyone to play Chickenhat, even if they are unable to play the game proper due to, for example, having a pointy head. Players roll the dice and move their chicken around the ‘head-board’ (get it?), answering questions and riddles while simultaneously trying to avoid the Spaniard who is chasing the chickens around the board so he can put them in a pie. The figurines are extremely detailed, with majestic, regal chickens and a realistically evil Spaniard. This gave my friends and I hours of fun and a genuine distaste for continental Europeans. Of course, it doesn’t match up to the fun of having a real roast chicken on your head, but it’s close.

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The Imaginary Review Holiday Gift Review Series, Part 3: Presents for Someone on Fire

2008-12-12T16:46:00.003-05:00

So I’ve been through the best presents for drug addicts and deities, and now you’re satisfied that you have the right gift for Brahma and troubled cousin Tarquin. “But, Mister Imaginary Reviewer, sir,” I hear you cry, “what about crazy Aunt Mavis? The one who is always ablaze with the fires of Hades? The one who resists all attempts at dousing? What can I get for her?” Well, you rascally young scamp, let me tell you.

People who are on fire tend to find things even harder around Christmas time. My own Uncle Norris spent over ten years burning like a bonfire, but he always said that the worst time was around Advent. The tree, the presents, shopping centre Santas: anything that he got too close to would go up in flames just like him, but with a more tragic air. That’s why it’s important to treat those of us less not-on-fire than us at Christmas.

A great gift for someone on fire is the latest self-help book by ‘Dr’ Phil McGraw, Incineration Nation: What to do if You’re on Fire. With a foreword by Travis Barker of Blink 182 and chapters such as ‘Overcoming the fear to ask for help (and a bucket of water)’ and ‘Hose yourself down metaphorically with praise and actually with water’, this book will give any walking inferno the courage to stand up and say “Yes! I am a human being, not just a human burning!” It also has a handy series of maps showing lakes, ponds, puddles and taps in North America.

Many people who find themselves being cremated before their time tend to forget about things like beautifying themselves and looking nice. Indeed, the single-minded desire to not be ablaze can make people omit many essential things from their daily routine. Moisturising, for example, is even more needed during times of being reduced to ashes; the skin can get so dry when the fire is removing all moisture from it. That’s why The Body Shop has released a special new skincare range for people who are being gutted by Lucifer’s kiss. The Sweet Relief facial mask could be just what a burning person needs to combat the effects of aging, daily wear and tear and, of course, being on fire. I tested the face mask on a burning bush, and it looked years younger after just a few minutes of use.

Nothing says ‘Christmas’ more than a humorous sweater, possibly with a reindeer on it. Of course, being on fire makes it very difficult to wear funny outerwear, so why not get a Kevlar Suit and paint it in festive colours? The added personal touch will surely go down a treat with your friend, loved one or resented offspring.

The latest CD by Casual Buttplug, Let us Burn Down the Orphanage With Our Love contains their top ten hit I’d Kiss You With Tongues (If I Wasn’t Afraid of Second Degree Burns). Given that the band only sing about spontaneous combustion, the record would be an ideal gift for music loving human pyres. Their music is a mix of ska, pop and frenzied screaming, so there’s something for everyone.

Finally, why not just get that special singeing someone as much water as possible in order to put out their fire? I’m just saying, it seems a bit sensible, that’s all.

The Imaginary Review Holiday Gift Review Series, Part 2: Presents for your Favourite Deity

2008-12-09T13:22:00.003-05:00

The Holiday season can be a difficult time for deities, creation myth figureheads and invisible sky beings. With so many people paying attention to Christmas, a lot of religious icons feel understandably left out; add this to the Seasonal Affective Disorder and many of them can get quite upset during December. It’s not much better for Jesus, either. Sure, He’s getting all the attention, but with His birthday falling squarely on Christmas Day He can’t help but feel that He’s only getting half as many presents as all the other boys and girls in Heaven.

With this in mind, many of us dread the possibility of getting a God or Godlike figure as a recipient in a Secret Santa gift exchange. Just what does one get for the omnipotent and omniscient creator who has everything? The new Hives CD? Hardly (Though Shiva is said to be fond of the Scandinavian rockers, She probably has all their stuff already). Today I’ll talk you through some of the best new gift ideas for deities.

Despite being all-knowing and all-seeing, many Gods find it difficult to keep track of all Their creations. With so many humans, animals and inanimate objects to look after, it’s often difficult to remember who to smite and who to blind with the power of Your glory. That’s where the new Microsoft DeityBase comes in. It’s a special new database for creators of worlds, with files for humans (believers and non-believers), animals and even rocks and trees. There are hundreds of useful reports and queries, so one can tell easily how many gays are getting married each day, with handy pivot tables showing how many heterosexual marriages are being undermined as a result.

The best thing about MS DeityBase is that it is compatible with many other Microsoft Divinity Software applications, such as PowerSmite and Word (Omen Edition). Using the information held within DeityBase, it’s now easier than ever to command an unhinged loner to kill them, kill them all, kill them all with spoons!

We all know what happens when a God is offended. There are plagues, maidens are tricked into bestial relationships, and things can get very damp for everything not atop Mount Ararat. That’s why buying clothes for a deity is big no-no. The consequences of getting something unflattering or in the wrong size can be huge. So why risk buying apparel when you can get something much better: a wardrobe makeover with Hephabulus, God of Fashion and presenter of hit TV show How to Look Good Sacred?

Yes, for one day, Hephabulus will come to the deity of your choice’s house (or temple), throw out all those ghastly togas and robes, and help them choose some great new looks! Even a plus size supernatural entity (I’m looking at you, Buddha!) can find stylish new clothes with Hephabulus, so there’s no excuse!

Anyone looking for an awesome stocking stuffer for their favourite deity can do a lot worse than checking out fitforaGod.com, the new online gadget and gizmo store for Holy Beings. From ‘Wandering Jew’ GPS systems to Flying Spaghetti Monster plush toys, there’s something for every non-corporeal postulated Creator. My personal favourite is the Intelligent Design Space Monkey set: watch the little creatures grow before your eyes, then use your powers to make them evolve! (Irreducible complexity not included)

So there you have it. A wealth of gifts for the deity in your life, and not a Richard Dawkins book among them. Of course, if you’re really stuck, you could always sacrifice a sheep. Some Gods really go for that.

The Imaginary Review Holiday Gift Review Series, Part 1: Presents for your Favourite Drug Addict

2008-12-03T15:53:00.002-05:00

With the festive season now approaching at breakneck speed, the need to buy presents is more pressing than a six ton steam iron. And while it’s easy to get fun, meaningful gifts for little Jimmy or Uncle Ted, what about the people who are a little harder to shop for? Well, have no fear! This Christmas, The Imaginary Reviewer has been investigating the best presents for those people in your life who are a little tricky to buy for. Today it’s Part 1, with everything you need for that special drug addict. Just follow my advice, and you too can spread seasonal cheer to the family smackhead!

One of the best presents this year is the new KraQ line of luxury crack pipes from Nematode Gifts. Available in a range of colours and styles, your druggie friend will be the envy of everyone at the pawn shop with the Thoroughbred model, which features streamlined sinew detailing on the bodywork. The Marquis model comes in a dignified steel grey colour, and has go-faster stripes for better intake capacity. My personal favourite, though, is the Sensationale, which is ribbed for her pleasure.

If you’re buying a gift for a junkie who is trying to quit, a great stocking filler is the Russian Roulette Smack Pack. Sold in an attractive wooden cigar case, this gift consists of six identical small needles, five of which contain a wonderful dose of the finest quality heroin, just waiting to be injected into a nearby arm, leg, neck or eyeball. The remaining needle, however, contains a potent poison that will give the injectee as painful a death as it is possible to imagine. But which one is it? Recovering addicts will have lots of itchy, shivering fun trying to resist the call of the Smack Pack. It’s also great fun at parties. Available from Harrods and Bob’s Quality Things Emporium.

Nothing says ‘class’ more than a good snort of cocaine. Unless, that is, it’s a good snort of cocaine using the new Cavendish-Thwakbulb Bone China Cocaine Snorting Contraption. Made from the finest bone china and with a handsome display case, this really does beat a rolled up banknote. Indeed, the people at Cavendish-Thwakbulb claim that snorting the white stuff with their contraption can prevent septum damage by a factor of several percentages. Oh, and it has a nice swirly pattern on it that goes ‘wheeeee’ when my eyes glide across the lines and lines and lines and lines and oh my God I just saw Scott Blackula like a magic eye picture did you see it did you see it did you see it?

Anyone who is looking to buy for a really finicky drug fiend could do a lot worse than getting one of the CIA’s new Laboratory Vouchers. Available in a range of denominations, the vouchers entitle the bearer to early access to whatever new and exciting population-suppressing drugs they create. It doesn’t matter if you’re neither poor nor an ethnic minority; whatever whacked-out addictive pillcrazy headmash the boffins at the CIA can come up with, you’ll get it first. Be the first in your neighbourhood to try the next crack, smack or magic monkey juice!

Well, if you can’t provide Christmas cheer for your favourite hopeless prescription-stealing meth poppet from that selection, you’re just not trying hard enough! [Insert ‘cold turkey/Christmas dinner’ joke here. Ha ha ah ha ha ha! Alternatively, just leave the punchline and let the idiots make up their own damn setup]

Next time: Stuck for a gift for that special deity or God figure? Look no further than The Imaginary Review!

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter: Part 6

2008-12-01T21:57:00.002-05:00

You’ll forgive me, loyal readers, for being unable to contain my excitement; The Imaginary Review, after 18 months and more than 150 reviews of things that don’t exist, is finally going places. I’ve finally got that big offer. I’m finally able to blow this popsicle stand and move on to the big bucks.

You see, dear reader, an hour ago I got an email from a man called Bill Wilson, President of a group called Americans for a Limited Government. The have invited me to ‘become a key member of the exciting new conservative “bloggers central,”’ which I believe to be an offer far too good to pass up. So with your indulgence, I’d like to run my response by you before I send it for truesies. Let me know what you think.

Dear Bill,

It is with fluttering heart and throbbing member that I read your epistle, such is the excitement that it gives me. Such praise! Such ebullient tribute! Such overdue recognition! Thank you!

When you tell me that I play “a critical role…in gathering, assimilating, and disseminating news and commentary,” you’re referring to that review of lovers I wrote for Valentine’s Day, aren’t you? Or is it the pet review from last year? It’s both, isn’t it? Yeah, I thought so. I remember writing them both and thinking to myself, “Imaginary Reviewer, that is some bad-ass disseminating, right there. The world had better ready itself for this dissemination. I’ve never disseminated this much in quite a while.”

Wait, forget that last part. I just looked up ‘disseminate’ in the dictionary, and it doesn’t mean ‘wank’. I take that last part back. Let’s move on.

When you tell me that you “personally, [are] deeply grateful to [me] for taking the lead in fighting some of the most important battles our country has faced over the past decade, and more,” I find myself nodding in agreement. It was a brave move, I think, fighting against the headwear industry in my imaginary hat review last year, and I know that I put a lot of noses out of joint when I gave a less-than-stellar review to Puff Daddy’s covers album. But one has to pick one’s battles, when one’s country is at stake, wouldn’t you agree?

By the way, when you say “our country,” what exactly do you mean? I only ask because I had assumed you were American, what with you being the President of a group called ‘Americans for Limited Government’. And, you know, with that whole part where I’m not American, I was given the – no doubt foolish – impression that you hadn’t done your research. But no, such an important man such as yourself would not send such a profound invitation without knowing that I am British. I’m sure your organisation’s title is ironic. You’re probably based near Newcastle or Carlisle.

By the way, the features of the website you have invited me to join sound incredible. Being able to post my own blogs? Interfacing with bloggers worldwide (and not just in “our country”)? Being able to customize my profile? Whoa there, Seabiscuit! You just blew my mind!

And if I may quote you again, you say that you “have asked ALG's Director of New Media, Adam Bitely, to follow up on this note with a letter of his own providing [me] the exciting details on how NRN can help [me] grow [my] own blog.” Grow my own blog? Really? I tried growing a Venus flytrap once and it died. Well, when I say ‘died’, I mean ‘never even sprouted’. I hope you know what you’re doing.

So thank you for your invitation, I can’t wait to join my fellow members of the “Conservative Blogosphere,” as you call it. I will do my best to help ‘our countrymen’ – nudge nudge, wink wink – limit the government through hilarious reviews of imaginary creations. I’m sure I’ll be able to push forward your aims of funding ballot initiatives throughout the US with my series of seasonal gift reviews throughout December.

So, in summary, thank you Bill. I promise I won’t let you, Adam Bitely, or the other ‘Americans’ down.

The Imaginary Reviewer

PS: Being able to post my own blogs? Seriously? Christ in a bathtub, this is going to be HUGE!

No Limits: The 2 Unlimited Musical

2008-11-26T10:03:00.005-05:00

Fresh from the success of Mamma Mia! - the film of the show of the song of the thing Italian stereotypes say – comes No Limits: The 2 Unlimited Musical. With a story penned by Alice Munro and featuring the Europop band’s biggest hits, there can be no doubt that this comes with a great amount of expectation. But will it succeed?

If the crowd at the preview shows is anything to go by, the answer is, emphatically, “yes”. Or maybe even “emphatically, yes”. Or possibly “yes,” but said emphatically, with a nod of the head, so that the emphasis is inferred, rather than said outright.

The story of No Limits revolves around Anita, a young Dutch shoe shop employee who falls for her boss, a young go-getter called Ray. But how will she capture the heart of her hard-working employer who seems to have no time for romance? Enter Cloggy, a mysterious wooden shoe creature who befriends Anita and sets out to help her find true love.

It’s a clichéd story, to be sure, but what brings it all together is the music. Like the Abba songs in Mamma Mia!, the Queen songs in We Will Rock You and the Wheatus songs in Teenage Dirtbag: The Musical, the sheer brilliance of 2 Unlimited’s music really does ensure a quality time for all.

Take the scene in which Anita is bemoaning Ray’s lack of social life because he’s always at the shoe shop. What better way to exemplify this than with 2 Unlimited’s excellent top ten hit Workaholic? This song had everyone dancing in the aisles, especially with its brilliant lyrics such as “Drinking drinking like an alcoholic/That guy is just a workaholic”! Why, it’s nearly as good as when Turbo D of Snap declared that rhythm was a dancer, and did so with all the seriousness of a terrible illness. Lyrics like this only come once in a lifetime.

Anita (left) and Ray, the main characters of No Limits. Cloggy not pictured.

Another excellent idea by the producers of No Limits was to have a screen behind the stage projecting the lyrics, like a giant karaoke machine. None of the viewers watching could resist joining in with Get Ready For This, and it was a joy to hear a huge hall full of people all singing along: “Are y’all ready for this?/ner ner ner neh neh neh ner ner ner ner neh neh neh ner ner ner ner/neh neh neh ner ner ner ner neh neh neh ner ner ner ner/nernernernernernerner yeah!/nernernernernernerner yeah!”

Of course, nothing is perfect, and No Limits does suffer occasionally from being a little too reliant on the songs in order to propel the story forwards. Magic Friend, one of 2 Unlimited’s least popular hits, seems to be the only reason why Cloggy is in the show at all. Also, an entire scene in which Anita finds herself trapped in a strange world where catchy European pop music doesn’t exist is only there so the producers can fit in the song Twilight Zone. But then, who am I to gripe, if the alternative is no appearance by this excellent piece of music? All together now! “This is the Twilight Zone/And you’re not on your own/Gonna take you to the Twilight Zone!” Hooray!

Oh, and just in case you were worried, the eponymous world-wide smash hit for which 2 Unlimited are most famous – No Limits – does appear in the show. Did you really think they’d leave it out? No, no. No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no. No, no. There’s no effing way they’d leave it out.

In summary, then, No Limits – The 2 Unlimited Musical is the best musical I’ve ever seen based around the songs of a much missed Europop band of the 90s. Well, not counting Pump up the Jam! The Technotronic Musical and The Culture Beat Beat Beats on: Featuring Mr Vain and all the Rest of Culture Beat’s Hits in the Form of a Stage Play Set to Music with the Songs Related (Sometimes Spuriously) to the Events Occurring in the Story. But then, those two musicals really are the benchmark for 90s dance-influenced musicals.

No Limits: The 2 Unlimited Musical begins December 1st at the Glasgow McUpChuck Theatre. Tickets are white, with black writing. The first 20 customers receive a free baby.

An Eargasm Interlude

2008-11-25T12:32:00.004-05:00

Firstly, I want to apologise for the lack of hilarious Imaginary Reviews recently. Admittedly, the quality has been high (if I do say so myself), but I haven’t been updating as regularly. This is due to a combination of things, including a minor traffic accident, work, and being hepped up on back pain medication. I am full of hope that this will be remedied shortly.

Secondly, I thought I’d explain my choices in the most recent Green Monkey Music Project, in which the lovely Barbara asked contributors to select six songs that give them ‘eargasms’. I decided to join in the fun, and blogger extraordinaire Splotchy has them on his rather excellent blog. Here, I’ll talk you through my selection.

1: Maybe Tenderness – Gintare
Eargasm moment: 1:37

Gintare is an eastern European singer whose voice is like a cross between Bjork, Enya and an opera singer. I received her album, Earthless, to review for my University newspaper, and was blown away. It is beautiful. Quite a bit of the album is very dancy, but the song I’ve chosen is slow and builds up nicely to a wonderful long note that always gives me shivers (around 1:37).

2: Untitled #3 – Sigur Ros
Eargasm moment: 4.48

This was the first song I thought of when I read the criteria for this mix. For me, this piece of music is one long wave of anticipation for the moment at 4:48 when the key changes. The song starts with wave noises, a piano emerges and slowly, slowly, other instruments join in, and just when everything seems to be there, the piano goes up. Amazing.

Southern Accents – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Eargasm moment: 2:20

My favourite song by my favourite band of all time. The eargasm moment is really for the lyrics, which always seem to get me. I could listen to this song forever.

Helicon 1 – Mogwai
Eargasm moment: 2:55

It was difficult to pick only one Mogwai song for this compilation, given that they’ve provided me with so many eargasm moments. For those unfamiliar with this band of Scottish post-rockers, their early stuff mostly consists of very quiet, repetitive guitar melodies that suddenly erupt into huge, loud cacophonies of noise. Helicon 1 is a good example of this, with the quietest opening ever and lovely loud part at 2:55. I have announced in the past that I would like this song to be played at my funeral.

Nandodemo – Dreams Come True
Eargasm moment: 2:52

Apologies for a song in Japanese, but this is the first song I really loved when I moved to Japan in 2004. The moment that gets me is when the chorus is sung two more times with different lyrics towards the end. It’s almost breathless and peps me up end. The entire song epitomises for me the very Japanese word ‘Ganbatte’: Fighting, striving, never giving up, no matter what.

Concerto De Aranjuez (Adagio) – Rodrigo
Eargasm moment: 9:15

This is my favourite piece of classical music. Again, a great crescendo, the highlight of which for me is the moment when everything rises, holds for a breath longer than I expect it to around 9:15, then carries on before fading out. Beautiful.