MOST SONGS give you only one perspective: She will always love you. Billie Jean was not his lover. You can check out of “Hotel California” but you
can never leave.
But popular music history is studded with the occasional duet that serves more of a purpose than simply an excuse for the existence of cool harmonies, or to provide an opportunity for
Paula Abdul to dance around with an anthropomorphized rapping cartoon cat—no offense, MC Skat Kat (and Posse). These duets actually use the form to explore two different, often dueling,
perspectives on the same relationship…often, relationships in which men are getting called out on their bullshit.
Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri[1] (which we fondly refer to here as SMAC,
both as an acronym and in reference to its potent addictive properties) opens in an odd way for a science fiction game. Most such games open with spaceships, star travel,
or some futuristic technology. They seek to hook the imagination. But our game begins much more humbly.
SMAC begins with a largely static image of the stars as a woman reads a passage from the book of Genesis, telling the story of man’s final and irrevocable expulsion from the Garden of
Eden. The reading goes on for about twenty seconds, which is long enough for the lack of action to be quite noticeable. The effect is that we, the players, are being
invited to join the woman in literary contemplation. This, in and of itself, is a strange thing to find in a game – and a strategy game, no less!
The attentive viewer will notice that as the woman ends her quotation, she cites her source as “The Conclave Bible, Datalinks”. Odd … one would normally expect chapter and verse
from a bible quote. What are the Datalinks? And which edition is the Conclave Bible?
There isn’t much time to dwell on those questions, though. As the woman finishes, the music strikes up and we are treated to a series of disjointed images from the Earth we
know. The context isn’t clear, but the message certainly is. These are scenes of chaos: fire; military equipment; rioting crowds; nuclear explosions; escalating debt –
each one flashes by just after it has time to register. The world is out of control. It’s literally on fire. And it’s hurtling toward calamity…
I’ve just listened to Robert Plant’s new album, Carry Fire. It’s pretty good.
A long while after my dad’s death five years ago, I’d meant to write a blog post about the experience of grief in a digital age. As I’ve clearly
become increasingly terrible at ever getting draft posts complete, the short of it was this: my dad’s mobile phone was never recovered and soon after its battery went flat any calls to
his number would go straight to voicemail. He’d recently switched to a pay-as-you-go phone for his personal mobile, and so the number (and its voicemail) outlived him for many months. I
know I’m not the only one that, in those months, called it a few times, just to hear his voice in the outgoing message. I’m fully aware that there are recordings of his voice elsewhere,
but I guess there was something ritualistic about “trying to call him”, just as I would have before his accident.
The blog post would have started with this anecdote, perhaps spun out a little better, and then gone on to muse about how we “live on” in our abandoned Inboxes, social media accounts,
and other digital footprints in a way we never did before, and what that might mean for the idea of grief in the modern world. (Getting too caught up in thinking about exactly what it
does mean is probably why I never finished writing that particular article.) I remember that it took me a year or two until I was able to delete my dad from my phone/email
address book, because it like prematurely letting go to do so. See what I mean? New aspects of grief for a new era.
Thanks, Rob.
Another thing that I used to get, early on, was that moment of forgetting. I’d read something and I’d think “Gotta tell my dad about that!” And then only a second later
remember why I couldn’t! I think that’s a pretty common experience of bereavement: certainly for me at least – I remember distinctly experiencing the same thing after my gran’s death, about 11 years ago. I’m pretty sure it’s been almost a year since I last had such a forgetting moment for my
father… until today! Half way into the opening track of Carry Fire, a mellow folk-rocky-sounding piece called The May
Queen (clearly a nod to Stairway there), I found myself thinking “my dad’d love this…” and took almost a quarter-second before my brain kicked in and added “…damn;
shame he missed out on it, then.”
If you came here for a music review, you’re not going to get one. But if you like some Robert Plant and haven’t heard Carry Fire yet, you might like to. It’s like he set out to
make a prog rock album but accidentally smoked too much pot and then tripped over his sitar. And if you knew my dad well enough to agree (or disagree) that he would have dug it, let me
know.
Found easily this morning while on the way to a museums conference at the Imperial War Museum (because no trip to London is complete without a geocache being found!). Wasn’t exactly
where the hint seems to indicate that it should be (was about 90cm away, though!), so moved to where the hint says.
Log very full; hard to find space to SL, but overall cache condition good. TFTC.
I’ve lately taken an interest in collecting jokes that haven’t aged well. By which I mean: jokes that no longer work, or require explanation, because they’re conceptually ‘dated’.
Typically, these jokes aren’t funny any more, or are only funny to people who were around at the time that they were first conceived, and I imagine that we, as a civilisation, are
necessarily relegating more and more jokes into this particular category as time goes on.
I don’t mean outdated like this joke, published in 1803, but ones that require explanation because a listener is no longer likely to recognise the concepts or people referenced. For
example, if it were the case that warming pans were now such an alien concept that nobody knew what they were any more, then the above would certainly qualify (that’s not true yet…
right?).
My favourite joke of this category is the following classic student joke, which was relevant when I first heard it in the 1990s:
What’s pink and takes an hour to drink?
Grant cheque
By way of explanation: the grant cheque was how British students used to receive their government aid to support them during their studies. It had become gradually smaller (relative to
the value of the pound) over time by failing to rise in value in line with inflation, and was printed on pink paper, hence the joke. There was an effort to revive it in the late
1990s/early 2000s as follows:
What’s green and takes an hour to drink?
Loan cheque
By this point, the grant had been replaced by the student loan, whose payments came printed on green paper instead. This is, of course, simply an example of adapting an old joke for a
new audience, as we’ve all seen time and again with the inevitable string of recycled gags that get rolled-out every time a celebrity is accused of a sex crime. Incidentally, the
revised form of the grant cheque/loan cheque joke has itself become dated as students now typically receive all of their loan payments directly to their bank accounts for convenient
immediate spending rather than what my generation had to do which was to make the beans-and-rice stretch another few days until the cheque cleared.
This 4th/5th century joke (presented with a contemporary translation) doesn’t count, because it’s still flipping hilarious.
Here’s another example:
Bill and Ben the flower pot men are in the garden.
“Flobalobalobalob,” says Bill
Ben replies: “You’re drunk, Bill.”
Now those of you who are about my age, or older, are unlikely to see why this joke has dated badly. But it is dated, because the 2001 reboot of The Flower Pot Men (now
called simply Bill and Ben) features the titular characters speaking in reasonably-normal English! The idea that they were only speaking Oddle Poddle because they were too
pissed to speak English is no longer a point of humour, and increasingly the population won’t remember the original stilted dialect of the flower pot men. If we assume that anybody
under the age of 24 is more-likely to have come across the newer incarnation then that’s a third of the population!
Let’s try another, which became dated at about the same time:
Why are hurricanes names after women?
Because when they come they’re wet and wild and when they go they take your house and your car.
The history of how we’ve named hurricanes over the centuries is really quite interesting, and its
certainly true that for the majority of the period during which both meteorologists and the general public have shared the same names for tropical storms they’ve been named after women.
Depending on where you are in the world, though, it’s not been true for some time: Australia began using a mixture of masculine and feminine names during the 1970s, but other regions
took until the millennium before they followed suit. However, the point still remains that this joke has been dated for a long while.
Why is a topical joke like a hurricane? When it comes, you’ve never seen anything like it. By the time it goes, you’re sick of it.
Here’s a very highly-charged joke from the 1960s which I think we can all be glad doesn’t make much sense any more:
What’s all black and comes in an all white box?
Sammy Davis Jr.
For those needing the context: Sammy Davis Jr. was a black American singer, comedian, and variety show host who triggered significant controversy when he married white Swedish actress
May Britt. Interracial marriage was at the time still illegal across much of the United States (such prohibition wouldn’t be ruled unconstitutional until the amazingly-named “Loving Day” in 1967) and relationships between whites and “coloureds” were highly taboo even where they weren’t forbidden by law.
Topical jokes like that are often too easy, like this one – even shorter-lived – from the summer of 1995, presented here with no further interpretation:
Q: What’s the difference between O. J. Simpson and Christopher Reeve?
A: O. J.’s gonna walk!
Perhaps my favourite strictly-topical joke of this variety, though, comes from 1989:
Q: Why is Margaret Thatcher like a pound coin?
A: She’s thick, brassy, and she thinks she’s a sovereign.
It’s at least two-thirds funny even if you don’t have the full context, and that’s what’s most-interesting about it: it’ll take until the new £1 becomes ubiquitous and the old one
mostly-forgotten before it will lose all of its meaning. But as you’ve probably forgotten why the third part of the punchline – “…and she thinks she’s a sovereign” – comes
from, I’ll illuminate you. The joke is wordplay: there are two meanings to “sovereign” in this sentence. The first, of course, is that a sovereign is the bullion coin representing the same value as a conventional pound coin.
To understand the second, we must first remind ourselves of the majestic plural, better known as the “royal ‘we'”. In 1989,
following the birth of her grandson Michael, Thatcher made a statement saying “we have become a grandmother”, resulting in much
disdain and mockery by the press at the time. The Prime Minister’s relationship with the Queen had always been a frosty one, and Thatcher’s (mis)use of a manner of speech that was
typically reserved for the use of royalty did nothing to make her look any more-respectful of the monarch.
And you thought it was just something to put in your penis. Turns out it’s something to put in your lungs, too.
The final example I’ve got died out as a joke as a result of changing brand identities, more cost-effective packaging materials, and the gradual decline of tobacco smoking. But for a
long while, while Prince Albert Pipe Tobacco was still sold in larger quantities as it always had been, in a can, a popular prank perpetrated by radio stations that went in for such
things was to call a tobacconist and ask, “Have you got Prince Albert in a can?”. The tobacconist would invariably answer in the affirmative, at which point the prankster would response
“Well let him out then!” This joke may well predate the “Is your refrigerator running?” prank call that might be more-familiar to today’s audiences.
If you’ve got any jokes that have aged badly, I’d love to hear them. And then, I suppose, have them explained to me.
