PCIDTM - Xtra Xtra Read All About It!

Here's a Pop Culture is Dead to Me Extra...

It was early 1995, I'm sat in my office in my Wellingborough house, I'd just had my modem installed and I'd got a CD off the front of a computer magazine with a new-fangled thing for the masses of new computer users. E-mail.

Now, it had existed, but not as a web-based thing and Yahoo were at the forefront. 24 years, I've had my email account, Yahoo's changed hands more times... The thing was, I didn't really have anyone to email. In the days of ignorance and treating the internet like a big place full of friendly nerds, it should come as no surprise that in the pages of this magazine was an interview with fantasy writer Terry Pratchett and at the end it actually invited people to email Terry and gave out his email address. Yes, I know...

I sat there and decided to email Terry Pratchett (I believe one of my friends was there when he replied, but we'll get to that). I introduced myself - News editor of Comics International - and asked if he'd seen the glowing review I'd given to Mort, the comicbook adaptation drawn by Graham Higgins. His reply thanked me for getting in touch and yes, he had seen the review and thank you very much, kind regards. I was chuffed to bits until my mate reminded me that my glowing review of Mort began - "I've never read any Pratchett; he's just never interested me..."

Aghast, I swore I'd never contact Pratchett ever again (like he would have even known?) and returned to my ignorance of Pratchett. Several years later, after connecting with an old friend from comics dealing days, I discovered she was friends with Pratchett's daughter with the name only Fleetwood Mac could spell. It was the kind of fact that fills up 20 seconds at a dinner party.

But that was it. Pratchett was just a little too... I dunno. I simply never got him. I should have. It mostly sounded like the kind of thing that would float my boat, but the few times I tried, we just didn't click. So when Amazon announced Good Omens, I was virtually surrounded by many people making noises you'd possibly associate with orgasms. For me it was simply something else to add to my un-watched watch list; maybe the wife would want to watch it.

We watched it in 3-parts over the last 3-nights. Here is my review, of sorts: Camp. Reeking of nostalgia. Dull. Never gripping. Forced. Not very funny. 3 unnecessary swear words otherwise it would be fine for kids. I fell asleep for ten minutes in episode two. I struggled to stay awake for most of episode four and something was starting to happen by then. A big enough budget but could they make the general special effects look better than Bedknobs and Broomsticks? Could they fuck. Ham, lots of ham. The first four episodes felt like information films and God really wasn't the most... effusive of narrators.

Don't get me wrong, it has some fine moments, but they're so few and far between it doesn't feel worth the wait. The Hellhound - albeit quite brilliant - was sign-posted almost a nanosecond after the Hellhound concept was introduced. Satan was ace, but the payoff was lame. Both lead actors chewed the scenery up and looked like they had fun, but I don't really know why? The script was plodding and so many of the characters essentially spoke in the same voice - I can understand why; angels and demons etc etc - but it was heavy-handed and slightly overblown in a pantomime way and I understand that was probably the point; I just don't get it; they could lose an entire episode by simple expunging Michael McKean from this mess. They could have done it without duly affecting the plot. Perhaps I fell asleep when it was revealed Miranda Richardson was a psychic, so imagine my surprise when her character managed to suddenly be the ideal psychic shoehorn into the story...

I didn't like it. Okay, I'm probably wrong. I've never seen lots of the TV everyone raves about, or if I have I've usually wondered why they were so enthused. The wife really liked it and despite berating her over dinner tonight (well, berating the series in a 'I can't understand why you liked that heap of shit' way) and picking holes in it you could ride a Satan through, she still likes it.

I'm done with Pratchett now though. I know I never really did anything with him, but what I have hasn't really made me understand certain nerds better or enhanced my days or enriched my life in a deeply silly way. It should also be noted that aside from DC's The Sandman and a half decent DC Secret Origins issue (Poison Ivy?) I wouldn't let Gaiman near comics ever again.

I just made a comment to a mate about wondering what's wrong with me. I'm finding all TV is a bit meh - so much promise, so much disappointment. If I could remember them, I could probably count the number of films over the last two years I've thoroughly enjoyed on one hand. I decided I have enough music to last me an extra lifetime, sooo... unless something arrives that really floats my boat, I'm sticking with what I've got. I don't do computer or games consoles and I've restricted my social media usage to less than 1 hour a day (I'm averaging about 27 minutes, although today I checked in on it a lot as I'd asked a question of my friends).

I also am fully aware that when I do Pop Culture is Dead to Me blogs that someone reading it probably won't have seen what I'm talking about, so my own righteous indignation at having things spoiled by inconsiderate people might also play a part in my general feeling about popular culture output devices... It still happens; a couple of people have really tried to ruin Endgame for me. If it gives them a workable erection then someone's happy...

I'm actually nowhere near as stressed and when I get stressed I switch off whatever distraction is on around me, because you know that's going to probably be the cause. I have only seen about 10 minutes of TV news since June 1st.

After Good Omens we cracked open the NOS4A2 box set... I loved the book; probably one of the best books I've read in a long time. The TV series feels so abridged - in all the wrong places - and feels so hammy and seems to be cramming 13 years into 13 days. Serves me right for actually looking forward to something.

Zoneless

At about 9.40pm on Saturday night, I switched off BT and BBC Sport and sat here in my office and did nothing for almost two hours. My team had effectively lost the cup final they were playing in and I didn't really want to see what was said and done about it, so I switched the computer and mobile phone off and went to bed.

I got up about 8.45 Sunday morning. Fed the boys (the girls only get one meal a day now), read The Guide from Saturday's Guardian. Drank some coffee. Switched the computer on; opened Word; wrote 50% of June's quiz, carefully only using Goggle as my on-line presence and for what it was originally designed for. I didn't open Facebook. Didn't look on Twitter. Avoided the news sites. Avoided all human interaction on a computer and have done for the last 48 hours. It has been strangely enlightening and oddly peaceful. What has also been cool is that I've also avoided any watching of the news; I have switched the TV off or over if the news has so much as been near being seen. I have wanted to be inside my own personal bubble.

As a result the number of words out of my mouth has decreased by at least 50%. I don't think I've talked about anything much in the last two days. General chit chat, some small talk, much commenting on the dog's arse. Stress levels are ridiculously low and the dogs are behaving themselves, but partly because they know their dad is feeling a bit low.

I've been tinkering with an idea for the last couple of months; nothing I want to talk about, but it's a possible way of motivating me to look at The Imagination Station again, especially as I have had some ideas how to improve parts of it, but still find myself locked out of the box - mentally. So this new idea, which fizzles and pops every now and then, is up to 21,000 words and is a bit different for me in that I'm writing it in bits and then filling in the gaps when I want to write, but feel more workmanlike than creative. I probably got down 4,000 of those words in the last day. I can't say I've been particularly productive, but a lot of that is down to the fact most of what needs to be done is a bit beyond my scope unless accompanied by an adult.

I haven't seen a meme in two days. I haven't been asked to share something. I've not used a hashtag. I've not spent pointless time writing pointless statements or even pointless time writing meaningful statements. I'm finding it surprisingly liberating not knowing what my friends have done or are doing or are planning to do. I've discovered somewhere new to take the dogs for a walk and get a decent bit of exercise without killing myself or coming home with half a beach or pine forest. I also have a list of things that I need to investigate and a social calendar that's consistent. I could probably do without frivolous communication with the outside world quite easily. I've certainly not missed the news or views of or from said news.

I do know the Ginger ManFat Splash is over and what better reason than to avoid watching TV? Sometimes or a lot of times for some people, media, especially the social kind, becomes the ... centre of existence and it's easy to forget about the world next to you. We need to make sure we can function without it for periods of time, because I think that makes things... calmer.

I think me and social media needed a well-earned break from each other. I'm going to see how long I can resist. It's easier than stopping smoking.