'The X Factor'

Today I would like to give my thoughts on the yearly outrage that befalls the UK: 'The X Factor'.

'faecal material'

Due to the unflinching, unwavering, unflagging - unstinting - support, and attention given to this hideousness, year after year, I am moved to comment, that I might improve my disposition some, having done so, as one does after the passing of a kidney stone, or a cumbersome piece of faecal material: I have taken this vileness into my body, and rather than having it fester, I aim to purge it like the pestilence that it is.

So much for the preamble; onto my objections...

Early episodes of 'The X Factor' largely consist of people being humiliated for the sake of the viewer.
Yes: probably the most popular TV show in Britain, in 2010 (the last series averaging some 13 million viewers, out of a population of 60 million people - that is: almost a quarter of people in the UK), consists in human beings having their dreams destroyed, their hearts broken, and their singing ability thoroughly mocked; they put their hearts on the line only to have them crushed - while millions laugh.

'social pariahs'

In the olden days, things like this used to mean something: they put the freak in the cage, and people used to laugh - they used to stand wild-eyed, and they'd point, and they'd laugh: both disgusted and intrigued.
...what have we become?
Do we not owe even this common courtesy to people anymore? Is 'The X Factor's' humiliation validated on the grounds that the freaks are no longer compelled through being social pariahs, and destitute, to get in the cage - that rather, they choose to be treated in this way - even going to great expense (queuing for hours on end) for the chance to be made a spectacle of?

'Why was it that they could never shout like that about anything that mattered?'
- George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four

 

These early 'auditions' consist of this - and also, some genuine scum of the earth: real soul-less wretches, who would know neither emotion nor intellect if it introduced itself with the aid of a children's television show (the type that repeatedly, and simplistically, explains something fundamental to human life).
The later 'rounds' see only such insincere automata - dyed-in-the-wool conformists, to be sure - vie to be the machine which receives and carries out instructions which it does not understand - either in themselves, or in context - while the 'proles' (proletariat) root for one, and against others...the competitive, destructive instinct is thus fostered, and given an outlet - one that is sanctioned not only in legal terms (by the government/law permitting this atrocious 'show'), but in social, moral ones: nobody is condemned, or told to be ashamed of this behaviour; rather, it is regarded as normal, with nearly a quarter of human beings in the State regularly choosing to participate.

In these later rounds - beginning with 'boot camp' (which one freak compared to a different type of camp: a concentration camp) - the freaks are 'eliminated' at a much lower rate; and when told they're out, the process is made as long-winded and agonising for them as possible - as a result, the viewer's pleasure is as sweet and heightened as possible...this is entertainment.

'convict'

The convict (Cheryl Cole) even said, in the latest episode, 'I think she thought she was going through' after subjecting one troglodyte to this treatment, and disposing of it like a malingering turd you resent all the more for its malingering; it was in total shock...you could see the deadness in its eyes (I doubt that any viewers noticed this, as it was sincere emotion, and not a mere contrivance).

The ultimate goal, of course, of these soul-less, anencephalic animals, is to 'sing', and 'be sexy', while giving the pretense that this is sincere, and borne of an understanding of what they are doing. Not only is the message sent by what they are singing, and focus on their exterior physical appearance, abhorrent, but the tragedy is compounded by the fact that they do not understand that this is what they are doing! They regard what they are doing as worthwhile - necessary, even!
I can sympathise with a thick person whose most basic will, and impulse, is decent - they are kind, recognise their limits, and so forth - but one whose will is as vile, base, and self-serving as these vermin, I cannot accept.

'turd in the punchbowl'

A case in point is 'Cheryl Cole' - convicted violent criminal the Nation's Sweetheart. This pig - this vile wretch - this human obscenity - this turd in the punchbowl of mankind - has never done anything of note: is having no choice but to look a certain way a talent? Is that an achievement?
If so, were the racists right to marginalise those born with black skin all along?! Shouldn't white people be proud of their fantastic achievement of having the dumb fucking luck to be born with white skin?
She seems to me, so conscious of the pretense she has to contrive, that I am reminded of Winston Smith in Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, where he speaks of the need to maintain a fixed expression upon the face, lest you be 'found out' for who you really are, and what you are thinking...
The most insane, maddening thing is, people have bought her pathetic, pessimistic act, and regard this violent criminal as a suitable role model for children!
How can we expect to look our children in the eye when they ask us what we did with the world, and why? Don't we owe them more than this!?!

'mongoloids'

This contrived, superficial, insincere drivel, is lapped up by The People - while sincere art, made for its own sake, due to necessity - the necessity to express yourself, and avail yourself of what you think and feel (for an excellent example of this, please watch the film The Lives of Others) - is left to languish, neglected....how can any argument be made that this is just? I defy anybody to watch 'The X Factor' (or listen to an album one of the previous 'winning' mongoloids has made), and The Lives of Others, and tell me that 'The X Factor' has contributed much more to mankind - hell: even the same.
Do The People need to have the emotional depth of a paddling pool, and an intellect lower than a snake's arse down a mineshaft, for the State to function - for those in power to retain their position?
If so, is the injustice committed by elevating these 'X Factor' imbeciles to role model status, really worth it? Is wealth and power really worth the cost of debasing mankind and existence with these worthless peons?

Perhaps it is a pessimist's - the devil's - joke: 'Look: look at mankind, God...there is no hope - whatever is good in the world is destroyed, neglected, or supported only incidentally, people not liking it for what it is, but because they see in it some superficial property that appeals to their base appetites...and you, God, made them in your own image! The small element of intellect you gave them, with which they can grasp the first principles of things, and "Play God" themselves - yes: they can approximate your power! - is insufficient, and not required for their life, which scarcely exceeds that of beasts, whose bodies they occupy.'.

Was Nietzsche right: do we need to shed the skin of mankind, that a further being can emerge - bereft of these weaknesses, embodying all that is higher in man above the other animals? I feel that such a development is a necessity - in order to save the planet, and ourselves, we must destroy ourselves: we must extinct mankind - a development that is purely social will not change the essence of man, no more than repeatedly throwing a stone into the air will make it stay there; no: we must seek to consign homo sapiens to the fossil record, that an animal whose 'base' impulses are not base at all, but noble, and progressive might emerge - the lower in this new species must be what is higher in mankind.

Give me strength...

'Him and Her' - Or Why Sisyphus Had It Easy.

Watching this show is a disconcerting experience for me: doing so causes me a feeling of great unease deep within - an ever-growing sense of unease, as if something terrible is imminent; it is akin to watching documentary footage of the rounding-up, and subsequent mass murder of Jews in World War II, I suppose.
I have, however, found myself compelled to watch every episode when i've seen that is on - not with an intention of 'rubbernecking' (for I never experience gratification, or satisfaction - however morbid - when watching this show, and the terrible fate befalls me, rather than those I am watching) - but because I need to understand what this feeling is, and why I feel it.
Well into the third episode, I at last found myself writing - writing what was the verbalisation of my confused, dark, foreboding thoughts - and I felt slight relief.
What follows is, with some minor alterations, what I wrote.

I know that the purpose of this show is to mock the mentally infirm/intellectually sub-normal. I know this. But the process - medium, if you will - is tedious and horrific!
We, the viewers, are placed in a Sisyphean hell: the protagonists are slower than a lobotomised tortoise, and as passive agents, the viewers are beholden to them - we must wait for them - we must wait for them to interact, to pontificate; a process akin to pulling teeth - except there is no necessity, no anaesthetic, and you do not emerge relieved and grateful for the experience afterwards.












Resurgence: is the humble mongoloid seeing a return to
prominence in public life...?

In terms of a historical, anthropological document, this could possibly be considered exquisite - if such a hell on earth exists (and I believe that it does) - but in terms of entertainment, or comedy - which is what it is (...intended to be) - it is diametrically in opposition.
I can't figure out the basis of the title characters' relatioship: they enjoy seeing one another suffer, and pursuing their own interests at the expense of the happiness of the other - it's horrifying.
There is a scene in which 'her' eats 'his' 'best ham', or some such nonsense foodstuff, while he is in another room; she later lies to him, when he asks where it is, telling him that he ate it the previous night, when 'drunk'...laughter was heard nowhere when this punchline was delivered, stillborn, through television sets across the country. So what reaction - besides contempt, horror, bafflement, or depression - should greet this atrocity...?

Sisyphus would have chosen pushing the boulder over hanging out with these cunts.

(Don't) Watch She and Him on the BBC iPlayer

Review of the Spanish Motion Picture '[Rec] 2'

[Rec] 2: [Rec] tum.

Robert Green Exposé!

I've done some snooping around, and it seems like Robert Green, the England goalkeeper for their infamous and disgraceful 1-1 draw with the USA in the 2010 football 'world cup', not only betrays the country of his birth, but he also likes to get dressed up in 'black-face' and create disturbances at comedy clubs in an effort to foment a 'race war' between 'whites and blacks', a la Charles Manson, the infamous cult weirdo and serial killer, who Green regards as his personal hero.
Observe:

Natalie Merchant - Live at Symphony Hall, Birmingham

Having bought the full album: 'Leave Your Sleep', rather than the abridged 'Selections From...', and finding the level of detail that went into it to be very impressive (over one hundred musicians were involved, and she painstakingly researched the poets whose words she put to music, writing about each of them in the book that accompanied the CD), and then paying £27:50 for a ticket to see her live, I was expecting to see Natalie Merchant accompanied by a full band, to help recreate - as best as she could - the sound on the album. I was therefore sorely disappointed to arrive (late) at the venue to see her accompanied only by two guitarists.
The die was cast, as the saying goes.

There is a certain tendency, particularly in instances of 'acoustic' music, for performers to slow songs down in order to convey a sense of 'weight', or poignancy, to their songs; Natalie Merchant is one person who never needs to do this: her music is incredibly insightful, and powerful - particularly when she 'opens her lungs'; however, this is exactly what she did...
I don't know if the audience can be looked to as a contributory cause, because they were all a bunch of cunts - the kind of cunts, if you follow my meaning, who hang out in 'pubs' and acclaim all things to be magnificent, lest they have to look at their worthlessness and experience the horror of insight: they greeted each new occurrence as though it was the most splendid, contrary thing imaginable (or even unimaginable, such is their low nature, and shock...)!
It is this attitude which might have influenced, subconsciously, the performance of Natalie Merchant - that is, she might have sought to pander to their base nature.

Regarding her performance: I am astounded that I must report that she forgot the words to her songs. She is touring an album that she does not know how to perform.
This is even more astounding an occurrence because she prefaced every song with a slideshow - projected on a large screen behind her:

...which she narrated, from memory, in detail...
During one song, she suddenly addressed a member of the audience while singing, and asked 'You've bought the album, haven't you?', because the mongoloid was trying to validate its existence by singing along; she then admitted that she asked this in order to distract from the fact that she had forgotten the words! The album/song came out a matter of months ago...
She later asked the audience for requests, because she wouldn't be back 'for about ten years', only to refute them all on account of her and her band not having rehearsed them/knowing how to play them; the song she chose, she ended up improvising with her guitarist: humming to try and figure out whether it was in C or G - thereby entirely negating any feeling, or atmosphere that could be created. Thanks.

She actually remarked to the gathered morons - whose proclivity for over-exuberance i have already documented - that if she was a dentist, say, and fucked up, people would feel aggrieved - however, that was what she was doing right now, in her professional capacity, and they were only too eager to applaud, and laugh! Here is an animated representation of what the crowd did throughout the performance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4UdmYInXplY

If the performance had been what I had expected and hoped for, all of these travesties would have been transcended; but unfortunately it wasn't - a great shame, as I know that she is easily capable of doing so.

Iron Man 2

I think it might well be me: the world (well: the 'West') is a more and more contemptible place as the months pass, it seems. The content of the films offered at the mainstream cinema is insulting; i recently walked out of 'Repo Men' one laugh/entertainment/interesting event-free hour into it, only to walk into another contemptible piece of shit called 'Date Night'.

So it was that I was hoping that when I went to see something billed as a massive mainstream undertaking - Iron Man 2 - it would be at least hilariously bad: I was under no illusions - I did not expect that it would be of any credit or worth to mankind, or even the lower species - but I did think that those guilty would have at least managed the bare minimum: acting that gave the impression the actor gave a shit about being there; character development; meaningful (in the context of the film) events and characters; and so forth.

What was delivered made me think that an eight year old boy had conceived and directed the film - or was at least a much-utilised consultant to such an extent that they broke child-labour laws: at one point, believe me or not, two men in metal suits - not robots, mind - had a fight while the Daft Punk song 'Robot Rock' played...is the population full of retards not under the care of the State? Or are their carers actually permitted or encouraged to allow their meagre mental faculties to be abused and atrophied yet further with idiocy such as Iron Man 2, for some abstract reason i'm ignorant of?

The crux of the film was meant to be that main cunt (Robert Down's Syndrome jr.) was dying, and there was no way to stop it - but there was nothing at all done by the film-makers to convey any sort of tension with regards this critical part of the plot.
Alongside this was meant to be some sort of adversarial relationship with Mickey Rourke - the guy with a face like the cunt of Sarah out of Sex and the City: i.e., like Rocky's eye, in the words of Andrew Dice Clay - but Rourke had about five minutes of screen time in the two-hours this insult to the human race debased existence - including a final showdown with Down's which was as tense as the rest of the film - that is, as tense as a used condom sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
Which is where these bastards should all be, really - for the good of us all, including themselves: i'm sure they don't wish to continue hurting their loved ones and society by creating such abhorrence as this.

And if they do: then we have all the justification we need to do away with them.