There are a lot of reasons why I should hate them, I’ll be honest. Like their neighbours in the land of rock-that-clearly-isn’t-actually-rock music, Coldplay, the Chili Peppers are one of those bands so devoid of personality, that it takes a not-unsubstantial portion of my energy just to hear someone say their name. It’s one of those easy-answer ‘favourite bands’ that are loved by people who aren’t so much fans of the music, but rather just fans of not having to sit in terrifying silence. The spider-feet guitar sounds mixed with the odd clunking bass and the nasal dross that makes up the vocals all congeal into a thick grey paste of oozing weariness that… I’ve just remembered that this wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about. Continue reading

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If brief radio flickers and supermarket PA systems have taught me anything about modern music, it’s that kids like to party; the shards of Kesha and One Direction that aggressively force their way into my unwilling ear drums from time to time have certainly shown me that much. However, they never really say ‘drinking’ or ‘dancing’ or ‘hanging out with strangers in awkwardly forced social interactions’, they simply say ‘partying’. Now, I’m not entirely sure when the noun ‘party’, as in an assembly of people meeting with a common goal, be it political, social or celebratory, transformed into this awkwardly misapplied verb that I, for one, feel totally ill-equipped to define. Continue reading

Let’s get one thing straight: you should always avoid standard public transportation. Get a car, ride a bike, use your actual human walking legs, I’d even grudgingly allow you to set foot on a bus, for god’s sake, but whatever you do, just make your way to your destination without having to set foot on a train. So fraught with danger and unpleasant tension are they, that if one is foolish, or desperate, enough to utilise them, they must take the most precise and delicate of precautions to remain anonymous, lest you breathe at someone the wrong way and have your peaceful carriage become the setting for a reenactment of the shoot out scene in Leonardo DiCaprio’s mansion from the movie Django Unchained.

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A few handy hints for the on-the-go traveller who is far too busy (being an important, big shot man/woman-about-town, no doubt) to make time for the dreary underling, the tedious former associate, or the slightly mental, and (as you’ve just remembered) weirdly clingy ex-partner. Continue reading

 

Well, the movie has been out for a while now, making the rounds in front of the loathing and loving alike, but one thing that’s for sure: it’s certainly in breach of social etiquette to still own a copy of the book. I don’t care if you’ve had it since you were twelve, the time has come. Worry not, however, because herein lies a list of ways to dispose of your now painfully uncool hard copy.
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“Aliens are real. There really was an alien crash landing in 1947 near the Roswell Army Air Field, and the United States Government really did cover it up.”

These are the claims that were recently being made by a former CIA operative named Chase Brandon; claims which are of course, entirely fictional. He asserted that he came across secret documents and photographs in a oddly placed cardboard box during a visit to a public CIA library. The infamous Roswell Incident that he is speaking off has long ago been debunked as the recovery of a Mogul balloon, and putting aside the menagerie of pop-culture traditions; sci-fi movies, conspiracy theories, and other such nonsense, the case is relatively closed.

So what on Earth (and I assure you, it is on Earth), made him come forward with these outlandish claims?

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“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breath free.”

This is an extract from the poem that lies at the proud feet of America’s Statue of Liberty that, when first built, served as a beacon to travellers and immigrants as they neared their soon-to-be home. It served as a symbolic gateway to a new life; a free life, where a person was able to pursue his or her dreams, with honesty and integrity, and above all, without fear of persecution or undue judgement.

In this new era however, a unseen country has arisen in the wake of the digital age; a new domain for men and women, children and adults, to express themselves, to open themselves, to find themselves; and like Narnia or Hogwarts or countless other realms of fantasy and imagination, this parallel universe is accessed via a magical portal.

Well, I still think iPads and android phones are pretty magical, anyway.

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