And another thing... Have people noticed that this week those terrorism ads (eg "if you see suspicious activity call this number") have reappeared this week, after an absence of many months, if not a year? Hmmm. Federal election. Government running on national security, fear-based platform. Ads implying terrorism threat. Eyebrows raised.

Sunrise was busted!!! Was walking past Sunrise this morning while preparing for work and happened across the most hilarious piece of morning television I've seen in a long time. They were doing their whole "real people candidates" thing, where they had like selected candidates to run as independents in the upcoming election. One of the people they were talking to was that sexual abuse campaigner, Hetty somebody. I didn't see what triggered it, but after about one question she cracked it and was saying stuff like "never in my life have I been "interviewed" by a television programme that has told me in advance what three questions I was to be asked, and demanded that I tell them what my answer will be... is that debate?" Ha ha ha ha. Koshy then cracked it back (although I think his anger may have been affectation - this is after all why we love Koshy), while the blonde one played mediator (APU). Anyway, it's good to know how the Sunrise interview process works. My sister also informed me, after walking past their windowed studio in Sydney, that their "banter" is scripted and on the autocue. Where is the love?

November is coming! I can feel it already... November, of course, is traditionally the biggest pop trash month of the year, and for this very reason, is my time to shine. November is the month when big music conglomerates pump out their "stocking fillers" ready for Christmas - useless greatest hits collections with no artist involvement (eg "J to the L-O"), decadent, blockbuster albums and ballad-heavy "beige" albums produced as gift-ideas for those who dislike music (think Celine Dion etc). I know that it's not November quite yet, or indeed October, but the signs of November-ness are in the air, with MEGA singles gaining airplay from presumably to-be-released-in-November albums. Here's a quick rundown:

Destiny's Child, Lose My Breath: Even though this is Rodney Jerkins produced, and he killed the Spice Girls, I love this song. Like Lauren said "that drumming is just so fast you feel like having a heart attack". This is everything a DC song should be: fast, modern and mechanical. I'm also glad that there really is a distinction between a Beyonce song and a DC song. So yay.

Delta Goodrem, Out of the Blue: This song is just so huge that I have to love it. I mean, it's mammoth, sprawling, HUGE, encompassing recovery from illness, meeting love of life (even if he is a loser) and so forth. This is what pop dreams are made of, and OOTB (he he) doesn't disappoint. I'm not quite sure it's a good song though. It's certainly immaculate, impeccably produced and all that, but it feels a bit dead at times. Huge nonetheless.

AND around the corner: Kylie's first real greatest hits collection, covering her PWL, DeConstruction and Parlophone days, with a very exciting new collaboration with the Scissor Sisters. Please be good. Please be good.

Also, Sony are fulfilling their contractual obligation to release a final Tina Arena album which, of course, takes the form of a stocking-filler greatest hits. Then there's Guy Sebastion, Cosima, a useless Britney Spears greatest hits... and I know I'm forgetting stuff. And then, there's a whole range of other, non-pop music type stuff being released as well, I guess..

Went to the Symphony tonight. It was arse. Oh god. Such fucking arse. It started off amusingly enough, eavesdropping on the conversation behind us. This French dude who works at the embassy in Canberra was in town and his Melbourne acquaintances were trying to make small talk. Like, "How do you like Canberra?" To which he replied, "Oh, I henjoy zhat zhere eez no traffic. It does not take long to get to and from work, so zhere eez more time to be wizh my fameelie. In zhat way, it is not like Paris at all." Which pleased the Melbournians enough that they said, "Yes, Canberra is lovely, isn't it." Oh god. That poor man. And to think he'd come down to Melbs for some 'culture', and instead was treated to arse. Beginning with Mozart's Symphony No 40. Sorry Mo, but that piece just blows. So boring. But I didn't mind that too much because I figured, "Still, the Requiem is next, and that's what I came here to see." I was quite looking forward to it. But do you wanna know what I got instead? Arse. You have no idea. Before the piece had even properly begun, it was fouled up. I was prepared to accept that someone had thought it was a good idea to have Gregorian chanters sing before each movement. It was stupid, but I could handle it. But to also have some dude do readings between the movements [a letter Mozart wrote to his ailing father, and various other biblical-type stuff] in a cringy pompous Shakepeare-actor voice, Jesus. It was just too much to be borne. I was sitting there trying to squirm as imperceptibly as possible, my jaw clenched, my eyes screaming in horror and disbelief. It was so stoopid. And I was ticked. Each time a movement would end, I would glare at the Gregorians and at the reader dude, going, "Don't. Fucking. Move." And sometimes we were spared. But not nearly enough. At the end, when crowd patter could cover me, I managed to say, "What the hell was that? Oh god I hated it so much." And then I heard the Melbourne people behind me going, "Hmmm, that was an interesting treatment, wasn't it?" Oh. My. God. ARSE!

COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:

Dijonnaise is not, I repeat, not a viable DIY proposition. Seriously. If you ever find yourself halfway through the construction of a delectable sandwich, only to look in the fridge to find you've run out of your beloved Maille brand, do not fool yourself into thinking that you are some kind of condiment-based chemist. Do not do as I did, and go "Aha!" and pick up a jar of Dijon seeded mustard in one hand, and a jar of mayonnaise in the other and go, "Dijon, meet Naise". And then make the jars kiss. It's just. Yuk. Best left to the professionals. Take heed.

So last night, the Chaser boys returned with The Chaser Decides, providing coverage of "the most important federal election since the last federal election." I was at Leah's birthday drinks so I had to tape it, which is necessary anyway because you need to watch it twice to catch the newsbar. Happy birthday Leah. [By the way, I found it very strange seeing Mick Molloy walking around Yelza in a suit.] Anyway, I watched the tape just now and, of course, I loved the show, der. Party stooges on talkback radio, why I vote Green, postal ballots for Hicks and Habib, the Democrats under threat of extinction after numbers dwindle due to mating with other species, the race being dead even at the moment "but we expect that to change once voting actually starts", etc. Some newsbar highlights included;

Aspirational voter aspires to not be narrow-minded, xenophobic fool

Baby refuses to kiss on first election

Howard laughs too hard at FM DJ joke

Kerry O'Brien forced to turn right for every left on way home

Coalition to change refugee policy after biting left-wing satire

Ha ha ha. Hey Erin, as an extension of our discussion at lunch, this article is pretty darn funny. Also, I find it highly encouraging that you get to vote for the ARIAs, while Mark Holden does not.

Tonight's episode of John Safran vs God was the BEST one yet. I hope you all saw it because it was a cracker. Especially the trailer Safran made for his Mormon film idea, xtreme Mormons. Holy crap. Just. Brilliant. I would so watch that film. It would be perfect Sunday afternoon movie-on-the-TV fare. Like Airborne, but with Mormons. Which means less "bullwinkle" and more "Gordon B. Hinckley". In the plot, our extreme BMX-ing missionary heroes have to fight against the entrenched traditionalism of their Church leaders, who ask, "How can you spread the Lord's word when you're standin on the darn handlebars?" To which one of our heroes replies, with passion, "I can't see why what we're doing is wrong. Drinking coffee is wrong. Drinking cola is wrong. What's wrong with extreme cycling?" They are righteous dudes. They're defying received wisdom by attempting to convert the lost souls living in the no-go area of Sin City. It's a tough part of town, ruled by drugs. No Mormon has dared door-knock there. Cue tough, powerful scenes, like this:

Junkie Girl: "I don't wanna sell drugs no more!"

Bandana-wearing pimp: "You don't have a choice!"

Mormon [swooping in and emphatically pushing pimp up against a wall]: "God gives everyone a choice."

See? Brilliant. Anyway, when they're doing the good work in Sin City, they have to deal with resistant attitudes like "Get outta here you Jesus-freak. I heard about you Mormons. You and your magic underpants." So how can they overcome it? Well, first of all, they've gotta get people's attention. So they impress doubters with their mad BMX-ing skillz. A show of such skillz neatly prompts the question, "Hey! Who taught you that?" To which they can reply, "A friend of ours. A guy we call Jesus." This gets people thinking, but of course, it's not that easy. Conversion never is. You've gotta win people's respect, by beating them in a competition of some kind, providing suspense and a climax to the film. So the stage is set for a BMX race on Death Mountain, der. "If we can beat your best guy in a race down Death Mountain, then you'll all come to bible class for a month?" Gold! Anyway, my most favourite line in the potential movie was this:

"There's two types of Mormons. Latter-day saints, and latter-day aints."

Oh. My. God. Safran, you rule. Yeah, I think I love that man.

Hee hee. There's a new way of communicating over the internet, and I LOVE it. Seriously, email and blog comments are sooo over, people. Specifcally Directed Searchterms [can't think of a better name] are now the shit. So hot right now. As with all important things, this new ground was broken, or at least first came to my attention, on Erin's blog earlier today. And now a friendly reader has included me in this cutting-edge trend. So thank you kind reader for brightening up today's session of wading through general BlogPatrol stuff like "straight cock that go gay" and "6yo OR , OR 7yo OR , OR 10yo lolita -porn site:.com" [um.... EW!], by Googling the words "dear elanor of the symposiasts, PJ harvey is coming to Melbourne, but its at festival hall". That rules.

Ha ha ha ha ha! I'm sorry, but when the red carpet is only ten metres long, that whole 'throwing to some other correspondents stationed further along the red carpet' thing just doesn't work. Tonight's Brownlow thing has been hilarious. My favourite moment was at the start when Sandra Sully, standing at the start of the red carpet, said to camera, "Now we're going to check in with Christy Malthouse and [some other chick], our special correspondents on the red carpet. Over to you girls" or something like that. Sandra said this straight into the camera. Now, following red carpet convention, you'd expect that this would be followed by a completely new camera shot of the two women she threw to in a recognisably different area going "Thanks Sandra", but no. What happened was, the same camera that Sandra had spoken into simply panned across to the right to reveal those other girls on the red carpet, standing two metres away! And then, once the camera had gotten close enough, they said "Thanks Sandra" into the camera. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Dudes, you're two metres away from each other!

Funny and awkward. Bless.

Further to my concerns about the show Playing It Straight, I'd like to add that after watching a bit more of it on Thursday, I'm quite certain that it is fucked. When I first watched it, I couldn't really put my finger on whether the problem was me or the show. I mean, I am always a problem, but with Playing It Straight, the show is more of a problem than me. Before, I couldn't tell if I was misreading the spirit of the show, not 'getting' it in the way that with-it people do, but now I'm firming in my view that this show is just simply hatin'. And quite unaware of it. Maybe I just had some in-built expectations that the show would be playful and cheeky, and er, camp? But really, its sensibility is very very straight. There aren't layers of meaning, is what I'm saying. Being genuine or ingenuine, good or bad, is directly related to being gay or straight, and everyone accepts this. The game is to weed out the 'bad' ones, the gays, and make sure that there's a just ending where a 'sweet, gorgeous and innocent' girl picks a genuine guy so that only the deserving get to win the prize. It's a hunt. And the chick is quite fixated and creepy, going "are you gay are you gay are you gay?" And always talking to the guys about who they think is gay. And then she's watching two men dance and saying, "I could actually picture them together. Gross." It's like watching poison spread around with everyone pointing at everyone else and going "you are gay", which, in the context of the show, is the worst thing you can be. And as no-one wants to be it, they reject it harder and harder as time goes on. It's not nice.

How can you not love Edward Furlong?

A little while back, someone googled "persuasive speech on australian idol being worthwhile" and mistakenly came here. I would like to take this opportunity to direct them to Angus' thoughts on the recent "Live & Unforgettable" show. I particularly liked this bit:

...and what after all is wrong with not knowing whether or not you're being sarcastic? If people claiming to "ironically" like culturally devalued objects is merely a screen for their inability to admit to themselves that they really do like them (as I've seen plausibly argued), then surely being unsure about whether or not they're being ironic is advance on this. Indeed isn't it rather healthy for us to admit to ourselves that we're often confused about our own affective responses, that in fact at times we all teeter on the brink between our urge to embrace something and our urge to laugh at it....

Cool. Anyway, have been watching my birthday present from Amy and Guy, and man, does it reward repeat viewings. It just gets better every time, and you notice more and more how perfect the performances are. So good. And you don't have to wait a week between episodes. They're all just there, one after the other, so hilarity ensues. Brilliant. Ah, The Office.

Hee hee hee hee hee hee! PJ Harvey is coming to Melbourne! Ohmygod! November 30. Yay! Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee!

Our friend Katie G was here. I always thought she saw my love of REM as totally geeky. But everything is cooler in London.

The government is still being shamefully intractable and shitty about David Hicks.

Despite an independent report saying that "it would be virtually impossible for Adelaide-born Hicks to receive a fair trial under the current flawed arrangements" of the Gitmo Military Tribunal, Philip Ruddock can't see "any reason why Australia should be arguing for Mr Hicks to be dealt with before an American civilian court."

Can't see any reason to intervene on his behalf. Or to even raise the issue with the authorities who captured, detained and charged him. Nuts. I mean, he's not even prepared to go for a coffee and casually mention, "Hey, you're an Attorney-General, and I'm an Attorney-General. Wacky innit? Say, what's your position on fair trials?"

Watched the most hilarious movie last night - Norma Jean and Marilyn, starring a very young Ashley Judd and a very young Mira Sorvino. The basic premise was that after Norma Jean "became" Marilyn, she was "haunted" by her old self - the country-bumpkin, man-eating depressive that she used to be. But the movie presented this literally! There were two actresses, Judd for NJ and Mira for Marilyn. So for the last half of the film, Judd would be hanging around saying stuff like "you're nothing marilyn" to a confused Marilyn, in the tradition of awful, awful psycho-drama. Anyway, the best/worst moments were:

1. In a flashback/dream sequence triggered by the words "orange tang", Marilyn visualises herself driving away from a screaming Norma Jean, symbolising progression, change blah blah. But that wasn't enough. She then stops the car, engages reverse, and runs down Norma Jean. Not subtle.

2. The point at which the actresses swap over, which has to be explained somehow. So they have NJ under the plastic surgeon's knife. He's about to start, um, cutting, when he says "tomorrow you'll love like a whole other person". Cut to new actress playing Marilyn. Ha ha ha ha.

3. Can't really convey the humour of this, but some guy calls out "hey, Norma Jean", to which Marilyn, in her own special way, responds "I'm not Norma Jean... I'm Marilyn"... Hilarious.

Heartfelt thanks to the people who searched for the following and found their way here:

barbara bush is psychopathic

ola bitchola

They were very good. Well done on them. But there is someone out there who wins the prize for Best Searchterm EVER for this simple, punchy piece of gold:

jay mcgraw credentials

Yep. Best Searchterm EVER!

Yikes. I mean, eeeeeeek. Guns, man, they freak me out. Also, they're designed to kill things. Not cool.

Hello-o! John Howard was just on the news, attempting to argue a political point by going, like, "Hello-o! Hello-o!"

Did anyone else catch the Days of Our Lives "four years in one go" bumper catch-up episode today? Well, I did. But that's okay because I was writing up an essay at the time. I mean, I only had it on in the background. Whatever, it was quite the rip-off, in terms of what I thought it would deliver. See, I was expecting an onslaught of scenes, cutting from significant moment to significant moment, with a commentary filling in the gaps between. But no. Instead, we got a cast interview/ behind-the-scenes kind of thing, with barely enough catch-up at all. I did get to find out that [dudes!] the real name of the guy who plays John Black is Drake Hogestyn! And he is on a soap playing a guy called John Black?! Ha! What a pisser! Another good moment was when some cast members were showing us their 'end-of-scene' faces in the mirror. It was fun, but it wasn't what I was there for. I don't really care how the show is made. What I wanted was soap story lines, and I wanted them condensed and hyper-ridiculous because of the speed at which we would run through them. But most of the hour was spent in interview fluff. The catch-ups we did get were kind of confusing because they were hardly explained. I mean, what the hell is Roman doing marrying Kate? She framed his daughter for murder! And he was really dark on her for it. And ew, Nicole married Victor Kiriakis? I mean, EW! Well, I guess she also married Lucas, so the girl just has no taste, but, ew! And why didn't Austen marry Sammi? I mean, I'm sure there was a reason, but it would have been nice to know what it was. And now it's just too horrifying, because Sammi is actually considering getting together with Lucas. I mean, he's the one who killed the dude that Sammi was going to be executed for murdering. Oooh, I just hate that guy so much. What a weasel.

Anyway, the quality catch-up time was devoted to the recent serial killer story, which we are picking up from after the four-year jump. This storyline catch-up was quality, but still, a bit confusing. Because, like, what the hell is motivating a serial killer to kill off all the dead wood in the cast? I mean, Abe? What could 'the killer' have against Abe? He's just a friendly police commissioner, a little past his prime. More confusing was the tendency of people to actively put themselves in the frame to be murdered by going, "I know the case Abe was working on so I'm all over you, killer" or, "I've had a vision and I know who the killer is". What a pack of dumbarses! When I figured out who Jack Deveraux was, I was pretty upset that he got killed. Damn replacement actors, making it all so mixed up. But I liked the old Jack Deveraux and the old Jen way better than this new pair, so I got over it pretty quickly. But, he did spend all those years in jail for a crime he didn't commit only to be freed and reunited with his woman, only to like, die [six years later]. Sad. Anyway, lesson; don't go on TV and say "I've got all the files and I'm gonna find you, killer". Uunnnn. But then 'the killer' moved on to all these old ladies, who I was clueless about, but my mum was all, like, "Hey, that's Maggie Horton. And that's Caroline Brady" and I'm like, "uh huh". But I did figure out that Caroline was the mama of Beau, after he went "Mom, mom. You've prayed enough. We've got to go" and then he nudges her and she falls over, dead. And then he holds her in his arms, on the floor of the church, and goes, "Noooooooooooo!" Ha ha ha ha ha! Next victim is Cassie Dimera. Again, no idea who this girl is, even though she is young and not some random family picnic/ wedding/ funeral crowd filling old lady. Still, I'm like, "Who?" I mean, she's a Dimera, but does that mean she is the spawn of Stefano? Or maybe Tony? I dunno. Anyway, she dies rather brilliantly. After saying to 'the killer' on the phone, "I'm going straight to the police and I'm telling them everything", [nice move, Cass] we move to the next scene. And oh, look, it's a bunch of kids playing with a giant, yes, quite oversized really, pinata as part of their Thanksgiving Day frivolities. You can pretty much guess the rest - "Hey, is that blood?" and then bang, a bloody Cassie Dimera falls out of the pinata in a slow-motion hail of blood and paper-mache. Gold. She was young and beautiful, too, so I'm thinking, coke habit? Anyway, next up for death was Roman Brady. Yep. 'The killer' wanted him dead too. On his wedding day, when he and Kate are cutting the cake, all this blood comes out of it. So, check this. Roman goes alone to talk to the kitchen staff about it! Ha ha ha! What was he gonna say? Like, "Hey guys, I didn't order the oozing blood in my cake. I'm not paying for that" or something? Anyway, all he finds in the kitchen is a note saying that all the staff have gone home. Hmmmm. Cue killer, in mask. And Roman's all like, "Hey, I know it's you Tony Dimera" [oh yeah, Tony came back from the dead... at some point] and Roman's all cocky and he keeps saying stuff like, "I'm not scared of you, Tony Dimera." And, "Hey, how did you get the judge to allow bail, Tony Dimera?" Which means, der-face, that it's clearly not Tony Dimera. And then Roman pulls the mask away, gasp, "My god. It can't be!" Slashing knife says, yes it can. Next victim is Tony Dimera, and this is the best death of all. For some reason, he's the ringmaster of some kind of charity fund-raiser circus. And, would you believe it, a tiger has been let loose! Crazy. Nonetheless, Tony decides to take this emceeing opportunity to say "Ladies and gentleman, the name of the killer is..." and then some dude from the side goes "Look out!" and then this cauldron of blood tips onto Tony's head. The blood obviously attracts the tiger, and, ha ha ha, it mauls Tony! Fabulous. But he doesn't die. He goes to hospital and is receiving treatment when 'the killer' manages to get into his room and give him an overdose of something. And, as the camera pans up from his IV drip, 'the killer' is revealed as... Dr Marlena Evans!!!!!! Oh. My. God! There, now, we're all caught up.

By the way, did anyone catch that new Australian reality show, Playing It Straight, last week? I only ask because it made me feel very uncomfortable. See, I found that there's this loaded view built into the premise which encourages judging the gay guys unfairly compared to the straight guys. Because of the set up, the gay ones are damn mercenary liars while the straight ones are mercenary maybe, but at least they ain't liars. It's not an equal footing. Also, the requirement for secrecy and the fact they'd be cast out if their secret was revealed, all makes me squirm quite a bit. But what I found most disturbing is that, after annoying my brother by yammering on about the show putting the gay guys in a more precarious position compared to the straight ones and the 'tropes' this feeds off blah blah blah, I still found myself watching and going "Dude! That guy is sooo gay!" But then I'm like, "Wait, maybe he isn't. I mean he could be, but so could that guy. Or could he? Or could they all? Well, yes. What's the point of this game again?" It becomes this objectification thing, with viewers [or at least, with me] playing a game of 'yes or no' and eventually slapping ourselves on the back going "Ha! I knew it." A bit wrong, methinks. Anyway, I guess the deep lesson will be - as the sexuality of each evicted contestant is revealed as the weeks progress - that, like, wow, masculinity is like, totally diverse.

Oh jesus. I'm 23. Bloody horrifying.

Speaking of horrifying, was watching Video Hits and found that there's really something quite awful about the way Jessica Simpson sings her cover of that Angels song. Quite painful. Still, love her on the TV show, so, whatever. Also, gotta confirm Erin's statement "Ehh... The Kweller... So Cool" from a while back. From what I saw of his guest-programming stint on Rage last night, yes, that is indeed true.

Went to see The Corporation today. Yep. Strong, important. All that stuff. My main thought coming out of it was "I don't get how corporations continue to remain respectable with governments when they keep breaking the law. And the governments know they break the law, because the governments take legal action against them. It happens very often. I thought criminals were bad things that politicians especially prefer to steer clear of and not help in any way. I'm not saying that's right, but I'm surprised it doesn't happen in the same way here." Another thought was "Hmmm, can't drink Fanta." But then my brother went, "Er, no. You can't drink Coke. Because there wouldn't be that Fanta problem without Coke. Dumbarse."

While on Lygon, I was quite indiscreetly surprised to see Timothy Spall walk by carrying groceries. Luckily my twisting and pointing and "Ohmygod that's Timothy Spall! What on earth is he doing carrying groceries on Lygon Street?" was all quite shielded by the car I was travelling in at the time. Still, quite a mystery I think. Or not, really. He must just be working here at the moment or something. Still, quite cool.

Anyway, was reading the MX yesterday and I read a snippet that I found quite interesting because of its effect on me. It caused one emotion, and then during the course of its sixty-ish words, caused me to swing to the opposite one. See, my initial response of being slightly appalled switched quite instantly, about halfway through, to a mood of glee and thoughts of "Brilliant. Utterly brilliant." I'm curious to know if the effect is the same for others. So here's the snippet, faithfully reproduced:

"Maybe F. Scott Fitzgerald is rolling in his grave. Then again, maybe not. Entrepreneurial 'N Sync singer Lance Bass is getting ready to produce a big-screen take on The Great Gatsby, with Paris Hilton as an updated Daisy Buchanan. If Bass and his partners get their way, the Jay Gatsby character will be played by Chris Carmack from The O.C."

My verdict; brilliant.

Another brilliant thing is the new Black Keys album. Damn superb. Love it.

Also, saw Har Mar Superstar's new song DUI on Rage last night. It's totally fantastic, and good in a Jackson 5 way, but gooder.

And in some joyous news, Gillian Welch is coming to town! Hurrah! I will so be there.

In other joyous news, PJ Harvey's set from the Splendour In the Grass festival will be aired tomorrow on Triple J at 5pm. If anyone coming to my birthday thing could remind me about it, that would be cool.

Also, try and watch Bubble Boy tonight if you can. The movie kinda loses it after about half-way, but the first hour is damn funny, particularly the crazy mother. And keep an eye out for the scene where Jake is dressed as a goldfish, and the one at the bus station, and any extended scenes of him running in the bubble suit. Gold.

Went to see Muse tonight. It was awesome. What more can I say? That it was fucking awesome? Well, yes. I can. Because it was. What other observations can I add? Oh yeah, that I'm a ninny. See, as I was watching the band I was thinking, "Man, that temporary replacement bass player from The Streets really fits into the band well. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was the real guy." And then when I mentioned this amazing observation to Erin after the show, she went, "Dude, that was the real guy!" Ah, I see. That would explain it. Also, I fear I'm accumulating quite significant damage to my hearing, the original Datsuns hurt being compounded show after show. And, finally, man, people are stinky.

Tonight, after Laurie's birthday dinner [mmmmmm, good soup], I went to see Supergrass. Yes. It was awesome. They didn't play the song I was hanging out for, What Went Wrong (In Your head), but still, they were great. Most of the songs have gone out of my head now, but the highlights I can recall were Strange Ones and Moving and Mary and something called Kiss the Mouth or something, and their version of Neil Young's Loner was great, and there was this other really really great song that I can't remember the name of and my CD player's not working so I can't play any CDs to listen and locate it. Anyway, very good.

But now I've come home to find that I didn't press the timer button after programming the VCR this afternoon so, [breathe, Elanor, breathe] I didn't tape the O.C! Oh. My. God. Shattered. Please, is there anyone out there who did tape it? Because I will never ever get over it if I miss a single episode of that show. Please. Anybody. I'm putting this crisis up there with the going-to-Darwin-to-visit-my-sister-and-missing-the-finale-of-Dawson's-because-stupid-fucking-Darwin-doesn't-have-Channel-Ten crisis of January '04. Yep. It's that big. I mean, helloo! Tonight, jock boy was gonna find out that his dad is GAY. That's right, GAY! Isn't that wild? So please, I'm barely hangin on here.

[Incidentally, I have a theory as to why Ngaiire didn't make it into the Final 12. Quite simply, Darwin don't get the show. My sister said there were little things in the newspaper up there saying "we know we don't get the show, but there's some local girl in it, so could you please sms her name to this number all the same?" Or something like that. It's not exactly Tasmania.]

UPDATE: Oh dear. NW magazine has just informed me that Ngaiire actually hails from NSW, rendering my above theory both ridiculous and disconcertingly arsehole-like. Crap.

On a kinda related point, funny Blogpatrol searchterm of the day was "persuasive speech on australian idol being worthwhile". Ha ha ha. Other, more thought-provoking ones were "kylies catsuit as fancy dress costume" and "Cillian Murphy is hotter than Jonathan Rhys Meyers". Hmmm, that last one is quite a tough call.

You know this already, but yeah people, Mel is a right-on chick. See, in her post about fucking annoying feature articles, I just went "YES EXACTLY!" when she said "when I write feature articles for these kind of weekend supplements I try to make my writing as measured and self-reflexive as possible." Because, I swear, articles cannot be anything but fucking annoying if their writers don't abide by that rule.

Finally saw the clip to Robbie William's Radio and, like Elanor, I was left feeling bewildered and confused. First of all, he talks utter shit. We're talking nonsense lyrics. But not in a cool, detached sense, 'cause he's trying just a little too hard. Then there's the vocals - what's with the affected, stage-school thing? AND what's with the phallic snake/tail emerging from his arse? As Elanor just pointed out to me via SMS (a nice synergy), he's totally ignoring all the girls, so what's the deal? Having said all that, I'm kinda intrigued by the whole thing, just like I'm intrigued by All Day Long I Dream About Sex (or whatever it is). In fact there's some kind of resemblence between the two.

And can I just say that I'm devestated that I missed Casey doing Tina Arena's (!) Symphony of Life - who'd have thought that song would be put on the map by a sixteen year old angst-chick.

Ah fuck no. WHY! He's got no qualities! NO QUALITIES! Well, except for the bad ones. Oh crap crap crap. I really think the U.S. election is already blown. Seriously. I know it's just one poll, and part of the boost can be attributed to the proximity of the Republican convention, but still, I don't think I'm over-reacting to this. There is just no hope. It's a cert. Done for I tells ya. Kaput. My key indicator in support of this hysterical fatalism is that, not only has the Kerry medals thing stuck around badly, but now it's also building like a motherfucker in quite a scary and serious way, yet without raising much 'compare and contrast' action about Bush's service. For some reason, that's a "quit livin in the past" issue. I mean, Kerry actually put himself in danger and was then honest about not liking how dodgy and fucked up being there was. Respect. And yet all it takes to screw his image irredeemably is someone going "My my, that is a lot of medals, isn't it? Hmmm. Think about it, people." I mean, if Bush is the one winning this issue, there's just no hope. Also, it's masking a lot of bad news that should be kicking Bush, like the figures showing that over a million more people fell into poverty last year, and, just generally, how Bush is just a dick. And shit, Kerry's really an impressive guy, and I don't base that on the Vietnam thing at all. You just gotta watch him conduct a town hall meeting to see that the guy is a good sort. Yet somehow Bush, who has really fucked a whole lot of shit up, has got hand. I swear he's a shoe-in. And it makes no sense. Bah crapola.

Hey, maybe my vote does count after all. Hmmmm. Actually have to think about this now. And I really hope Lindsay Tanner's wrong about what a strengthened Greens party will mean to Labor:

Mr Tanner is also issuing a warning that erosion of Labor's socially progressive constituency would lead to the Labor Party changing, probably to a more right-wing, populist party.

"One of the things that worries me is that, if we get to the position in the medium term, where there are four or five electorates around held by the Greens and not Labor, and that section of the community, the most politically aware, progressive section of the community is parked on another party, then the Labor Party's going to change. "They should not assume the Labor Party will stay the same. What it will mean is that in future for issues like native title and the republic - forget it!"

That won't really happen will it? He's just trying to scare me, yeah? See, I'm thinking that more Greens House of Reps seats might lead to a new government-forming coalition of Labor/Greens, with the accomodations required by such a coalition pushing Labor to the left. Also, I just think it's more fair if it's coalition versus Coalition.

I've got Rage on in the background, and yes, I am most definitely with Popjustice on this one. What on earth have I just heard? And further, I am quite spun about and confused because, whatever it is, I really really like it. I would even go so far as to say that about a minute ago Robbie Williams became very very cool in my eyes. That's Robbie Williams. And very very. What is happening here? Also, am I mistaken or is this video clip Robbie's coming out, or what? So many questions [for instance, "when do I get to hear it again?"]

Ah, The Datsuns. Man, I just love seeing them. And staring at them. And having Dolf's scream invade my ear. Sigh. Dolf. I always forget how much I love him. Yep. I really like that guy.

DUDES! Bjork's new album, Medulla, like WHOAH! Amazing. Just try and stop yourselves from being thrilled, or from periodic outbursts of "ohmyGOD!" Yes yes YES!

And the new Libertines album. Oh yes. Excellent. Especially the Campaign of Hate song. Choice.

Also, am seeing The Datsuns tonight, Supergrass on Tuesday, Muse on Wednesday, and hee hee hee hee hee hee hee, clappy clappy glee, The Von Bondies are coming back for a gig on October 29th! Sweet sweet life, how much more I would enjoy you if I could only get this fucking essay done. Oh, the debilitating anxiety.

And here's where I ended up: The Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis

"You approach Satan's wretched city where you behold a wide plain surrounded by iron walls. Before you are fields full of distress and torment terrible. Burning tombs are littered about the landscape. Inside these flaming sepulchers suffer the heretics, failing to believe in God and the afterlife, who make themselves audible by doleful sighs. You will join the wicked that lie here, and will be offered no respite. The three infernal Furies stained with blood, with limbs of women and hair of serpents, dwell in this circle of Hell."

To be honest I was expecting somewhere a bit nicer. I mean, all my answers were so wholesome. No, I don't think I'll ever assassinate people. No, violence is wrong. Yes, I give time and money to charity. But then there was my rejection of God, attraction to the same sex and so forth. So, if I'm gonna go to hell anyway, maybe I should go smash up some stuff.