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Surviving Christmas


caldrail

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This year was something of an anomaly. This was the first ever white christmas in my living memory. A sure sign of global warming as I'm sure you'll agree. But the anomaly goes further. So much of british life is second-hand, with weather and cultural trends imported from our cousins across the Atlantic. This year I noticed we suffered a sharp wintery blast before they did, against the prevailing wind and political treaties to the contrary. Of course, America just had to go one better...

 

That said, survival in my poorly heated flat was something of a trial. I'm not used to sleeping in sub-zero temperatures. I've just spent the last week zipped into a sleeping bag. Is that desperate, or what? With heating bills soaring, I suspect I won't be the last. But hey, I survived the cold, and better still, suffered less christmas music and carol singers than ever before. Even the drunkards only emerged last night as the weather warmed enough to allow them to venture forth in tru male bonding style. Ah yes, the football chant... Swindon is returning to normal...

 

Survival of the Masses

I'm a little confused. For thousands of years mankind has been predicting the end of the world. For such a pessimistic species it seems odd we invent alternative optimistic fantasies. On the one hand, religion contains many examples of a forthcoming global cataclysm (which each generation is told it will happen in their lifetime - Repent, sinners!), yet on the other hand there's a section of society that has an almost religious belief the future of mankind is assured. If you ask anyone about the end of the world, you inevitably find someone who shrugs and tels you all we need to do is build lots of spaceships and go somewhere else.

 

If only it were that easy. Unfortunately the nearest star is four light years away. For those who don't know, light travels at 186,273 miles per second. Pretty quick in other words. A light year is the distance light would ravel in one year. So thats 186,273 x 60 seconds x 60 minutes x 24 hours x 365.25 days. Thats 5,878,328,824,800 miles away more or less. For those struggling with big numbers, that's about 452 million times further than the journey to Australia. So even by Easyjet, the journey to Proxima Centauri will still set you back a cool three hundred and sixteen billion pounds to spend a year trapped in a tin can with hundreds of holidaymakers hurtling through space without anything to drink or do at night.. Bargain.

 

Alternative Survival Strategy of the Week

For those of us concerned with an affordable means to survive the end of the world, there is now a way to survive the end of the Mayan Cycle in 2012, the return of Jesus the day after tomorrow, or another winter like this one. It turns out that a Russian chap has invented the perfect shelter, a pod for four people to cope with every shake, rattle, and roll the world could possibly throw at it.

 

So convincing is this new shelter that his neighbours have been signing up to spend a few weeks locked up together inside. The Simpsons and Family Guy have already proven this concept, and already the Russian government are so impressed by it they want to buy a thousand of these shelters. So... That's four thousand survivors, more or less. How many people live in Russia?

 

Lucky Survival of the Week

Goes to the group of teenagers at Coate Water who decided that a frozen lake was the perfect place to mess about. They let their dog run around on the ice. One youth even rode his bicycle on the lake. Better tell these lads not to waste their money investing in a Russian survival pod for 2012. They'd only open the door to have a look see. If they live that long.

 

Oh, I nearly Forgot...

Some of you might have sat there slack jawed through the christmas Doctor Who extravaganza. I used to complain that the new Doctor was merely Harry Potter and the Sonic Screwdriver, but quite how I can adequately describe this rubbish is beyond my vocabulary. Okay, since it's christmas, I'll try. It turned into Harry Potter and a sort of Christmas Carol Rip Off. Only this time we got Hansom cabs being pulled through the skies of an alien world by sharks. Is that what passes for science-fiction these days? I want to buy one of those Russian survival pods for next years effort. The decline of western civilisation is being measured by the BBC.

 

Christmas Message of the Year

That's it, I can stand no more. Change the channel. Anything, I don't care what it is, just as long as I don't have to watch any more of this Doctor Who... The next channel is BBC2, who happen to be showing a televised christmas service. Lots of choirs and panning camera shots of a purple lit vaulted cathedral roof. That's okay, I've missed most of it, and in ten minutes the lads from Top Gear will be fuelling my own fantasies.

 

As it happens, the sermon, or at least all thirty seconds of it (It is a television show after all), tells us that we should love each other. Hey, that's brilliant. Group sex, brought to you by Jesus Inc. That would have made my flat a bit warmer.

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I was just beginning to think that the winter depression had totally robbed you of your sense of humor, Lord Caldrail...but that last bit was truly good. BBC America made a huge to-do about the fact that they broadcasted the Doctor Who Christmas blah blah blah--quite the achievement that they actually broadcast something in the UK and in the US at the same time! I can safely say that such crap was not viewed at my abode. On the other hand, I think there were some viewings of reruns of Star Trek: Next Generation. Picard effing rules.

 

And now...the wait of gawd-knows-how-long until the next installment of new Top Gear. In the meantime, various repackagings of the previous series, trying to fool us Yanks into thinking that they're new episodes. And yet, I'd so much rather watch them than the new US version of the show. No personality, no passion...no goofiness. Or rather, fake goofiness.

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Sometimes we see US versions of tv shows over here and the difference is entirely one of stlye. The presenters are always, and I mean always, very clever with one liners and gags but really don't grab your attention other than creating a steady background commentary.

 

As you say, they lack any real character, comiong across as very one dimensional, although inevitably the ladies are pretty and one did catch my eye as having a spark of personality beyond that expected of american media. She came across as willing to entertain but hopelessly restricted by the expectations of the shows producer. She was allowed only one sentence before the camera returned to the main duo whose comedy routine struggled to raise any laughs.

 

The other thing I notice is the undercurrent of scorn for contestants on shows. Now I don't suppose for a minute these good citizens are unaware they're going to be made fools of, but to me the attitude is you've signed up to be laughed at. Once you get past the surface level, the odd titter, there's little respect for the common person. Is that a feature of society, or simply a means of making the characterless presenters more vivid to the audience?

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