CULTURE POPS

THE alien commander looked grimly through the Vision-O-Scope at the blue-green planet floating peacefully before him. Yes, this was it. This was the place, all right. Pushing the Vision-O-Scope away from his eyestalks, he fixed his fierce gaze on the lieutenant waiting anxiously by his side. "We have waited a long time for this operation, lieutenant," said the commander. "A very long time indeed. I plan to enjoy every second of it."

"Yes, commander," simpered his underling. "All preparations are now complete. The fleet is standing by. We await your command."

The commander licked his warty, purple lips with satisfaction. "Excellent, lieutenant," he said. "In that case, let the attack begin."

WHEN Robbie woke up on Thursday morning, he had no idea that at that very moment, one thousand and seven deadly killer space robots were hurtling towards his home planet. If he had known that, he might have pressed the Snooze button and gotten nine more minutes of sleep instead of getting up and going to school. Those nine minutes were worth a lot when you had to face double Maths first period with Mr. Periwinkle.

But Robbie didn't know about the deadly killer space robots. Nobody on the school bus that day did. Not even Samantha Samuels, whose mother was on the school council. Robbie thought Samantha Samuels was a gossip and a loudmouth, but even he wouldn't have wished for her to be vaporized into a million smoking particles by a deadly killer space robot with glowing red eyes. Which is what happened to her at eleven fifteen precisely as she walked out of Mr. Periwinkle's classroom.

And all around the world, it happened to a lot of other people, too.

THE President of the United States of America looked around the table at his generals and exhaled a great big ring of cigar smoke right in their faces. That's the sort of appalling behaviour you can only get away with if you're the President of the United States of America, or some other extremely powerful person, like the Queen. This particular President was unusually smart for a President, and he had very recently realised he was going to have to squeeze a lot of his appalling behaviour into an extremely short time, because it didn't look like he was going to get to be President for very much longer.

"Let me get this straight," he said to his generals. "You're telling me, the most powerful cigar-smoking man in the world, that Earth is under attack by deadly killer space robots, and there's not a thing we can do about it?"

A nervous silence hung in the air, mingling with the President's cigar smoke. Eventually, a general with her hair in a tight bun spoke up. "Yes, Mr President. Earth is under attack by deadly killer space robots. And no, there's not a gosh-darn thing we can do about it."

(I should point out that she didn't actually use say 'gosh-darn.' It's a true fact that when serious and dramatic people gather together at serious and dramatic moments in life, they tend not to use words like 'gosh-darn.' They tend to use serious and dramatic words instead. But for the purpose of this story, 'gosh-darn' is probably serious and dramatic enough to give you a general idea. If you really need to know what the general said, you can use your gosh-darn imagination.)

The President nodded his head very slowly and gravely. He looked at each of his generals in turn. "I have two words for you all. Two words, in fact, for every single person in the country -- no! Every person in the world."

The generals looked intently at their commander as he took one last, deep puff on his cigar. The President, being unusually smart for a President, decided that this would not be a good time to blow a smoke ring, and moved straight on to announcing the two words. He announced them one at a time, even though it didn't make grammatical sense that way. (In times of great stress, people often don't pay a lot of attention to proper grammar.)

The two words the President said to everybody on Earth were as follows:

"Start. Panicking."

AND that's exactly what the people of Earth did. Whether they panicked because the President had told them to or they were simply panicking of their own accord is not entirely clear. The important thing is that they panicked. They panicked in very large numbers on an unprecedented worldwide scale.

People panicked in India. They panicked in China. They panicked in France, Africa and Turkey. People panicked in Hawaii and Alaska and New Zealand and Australia. And they really panicked in America, where they'd had a lot more practice than the rest of the world.

People shrieked and screamed and ran and hid and cried and huddled and fought. Actually, they fought a lot. Many of them fought the deadly killer space robots, but strangely, many, many more of the people just sort of ended up fighting each other.

The people of Earth panicked and they panicked and they panicked and they panicked.

And without exception, every single one of them was vaporized into a million smoking particles by the deadly killer space robots with glowing red eyes.

THE attack began at eleven fifteen precisely, at more or less the exact moment as Mr Periwinkle's double Maths class ended. And by twelve forty two, the attack was all over. In a little under an hour and a half, a vast army of one thousand and seven deadly killer space robots with glowing red eyes had vaporized every single man, woman and child on the planet Earth. And also most of the cats.

IN his spacecraft, hovering hundreds of miles above the now-conquered planet, the alien commander smiled. His warty, purple lips parted, revealing three rows of horrible pointy teeth, and he rubbed his scaly hands together in a satisfied way.

"Excellent operation, lieutenant," said the commander. "I enjoyed every second of it."

His lieutenant looked relieved. The Earth attack had been a very big operation to conceive and manage, and he was glad it had gone well. "Excellent, commander," he said. "What are your orders now?"

The alien commander thought for a moment before answering. "I believe -- yes, I believe I could do with some lunch."

"Terrific," said the lieutenant. "Shall I set a course for Orion? They do a great chicken burger there."

And so, with the flick of a switch, the alien creatures responsible for ending all human life on Earth blasted off across the galaxy to get chicken burgers.

DEADLY killer space robots with glowing red eyes are really only built for one purpose, and that purpose is to vaporize people, and sometimes cats, into a million smoking particles. Deadly killer space robots are extremely efficient at this task, especially the ones with glowing red eyes. And once they've completed their vaporizing and planet-conquering duties, they're pretty much free to do what they want.

These particular deadly killer space robots decided they'd quite like to stay on the planet Earth. It turned out, after the millions and billions and trillions of smoking people particles had finally blown into the atmosphere, to be quite a pretty planet.

The one thousand and seven deadly killer space robots made themselves at home on Earth, knocking over a few buildings here and there and generally sprucing the place up. They changed the planet's name, of course, to make themselves feel more at home. It's called the planet Smithereens now.

To be honest, most visitors to the planet Smithereens these days agree that the deadly killer space robots actually make pretty good custodians, all things considered. Although the glowing red eyes take a little getting used to.

And it is a shame about the cats.

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 6:38 PM  38 comments

With Anne Geddes' latest book Miracle, an artistic collaboration between the photographer and I-guess-you-have-to-call-her-a-singer Celine Dion, currently racing up the bestseller charts, this critic re-examines the early career of the woman born Anne Formaldehyde Geddes.

In 2004, the Geddes style is instantly and universally recognisable: a baby nestled cozily in a bed of pink rose petals; a sleeping baby draped peacefully over a vivid orange pumpkin; a hundred babies or more stuffed randomly into some flowerpots. It's a template which has earned her accolades, adoration and a fortune in merchandising (of which the babies, controversially, don't see a cent). But Geddes' signature style has evolved significantly since the photographer produced her first, tentative work, a high school project entitled Lettuce and Baby On Wholegrain.

On the strength of this work, Geddes was admitted at the early age of 16 to the prestigious Shutters School, where she studied under such giants of the medium as Sir Edmund Snaps (inventor of the holiday snap), and Michael Warmly, who is generally credited with coining "cheese." Geddes excelled at such practical subjects as Pressing The Shutter Button and Get Your Thumb Out Of The Damn Way but was less successful artistically, often taking technically brilliant shots but forgetting to include any foreground, middleground, background or subject. Her grades were unremarkable, although she was cautioned for attempting to develop pictures on the wrong side of the Polaroid, and her lecturers were forced to discipline her for constantly pronouncing it "poto-magraph."

Geddes was known as a hot-headed student who would often grow impatient with her still-life subjects, which she accused of plotting behind her back (she once throttled a vase of flowers, claiming the geraniums kept giggling). Fellow pupils remember her meticulous attention to lighting, and her longstanding conviction that there must be a position between "off" and "on," which she referred to as "onf." In short, she was regarded as an oddball, which was something, given the student population at that time also comprised two sets of Siamese twins and a Sasquatch.

Most significantly of all, Geddes' college contemporaries recall her having a string of young male companions. At 16, Anne Geddes was dating her childhood sweetheart, the 15-year-old William "Bub" Hubbub (whom she later murdered, although scholars attribute little importance to the event). By the age of 17, her boyfriends included, in swift succession, Brian Breenbury, 14, J. Salmon Luck, 13, and Tiny Tommy Tipperary, 8. Her friends are at pains to point out that the relationships were not sexual, unless you count occasionally using the same shoe-horn (which, on consideration, this writer does not). It would seem Geddes enjoyed exerting power over her companions, by, for example, forcing them to carry her books, or occasionally to smear twenty pounds of cheese on a pianola.

In 1977, when Geddes graduated, her boyfriend was 5-year-old Zeppo Alphadoodle, a gifted peanut-catcher. Legal considerations mean that Zeppo's comments must be translated badly into Spanish and back again: "I lived full with terror. It was a great scare that she would damage my head with a fish. Anne she carries halibut in her pockets and would throw me a look filled with meaning. She threatened to give me eaten by a monkey. I never saw the monkey, but once, I thought I heard it yodel."

Eventually, Geddes abandoned romantic pursuits altogether, preferring to devote her energies to her photography, and also her burgeoning singing career (she was one of the Supremes). Anne was 20 when she bid farewell to her last boyfriend, 2-year-old Nance Pepper, whom she immortalised in her first really important photograph, Untitled (Nance With Two Meatballs). It was this work which was praised so memorably by critic Theresa LeLaa as "like genius, only not as good."

It's important to note that at this time Geddes was still not exclusively photographing babies. In fact, she experimented for months with architects, producing minor pieces such as Architect With Bunny, but felt the results lacked a quality she referred to as the "Woojums Factor." (This period also yielded a series of lithographs depicting truck drivers in a cornfield, but Geddes has since withdrawn them from circulation and coated the originals with mayonnaise.)

But she continued to be drawn to babies as a subject, and visitors to Geddes' apartment in the early to mid 1980s were confronted with a cramped space filled with saucepans, buckets, wheelbarrows and mixing bowls, all literally crawling with tens or even hundreds of toddlers (orphans Geddes "borrowed" from St Gelfling's Hospital). Geddes would leap about from corner to corner, holding her camera at wild angles and bemoaning the fact that she'd forgotten to buy film. One close friend from the period, M, was so alarmed by the scene that he fled, leaving behind all the other letters of his name.

The 1980s were a time of revolution, when anything seemed possible, and Anne entered into a reckless phase, best represented by the brilliantly resonant triptych Baby With A Staple Gun, Baby On Fire and Alligator With Dangling Baby. The predictable backlash from works such as these caused Geddes to briefly abandon her signature subject altogether, an unsuccessful period marked by such efforts as Still Life Without Baby and the haunting, almost desperate Umbrella (No Babies 'Ere, Guv'nor).

1986 was when Geddes really hit her stride. A single page, torn from her notebook, sums up the realisation which saw her make a breathtaking creative leap forward:

"Baby + Flowers = Awww!"

On July 5, 1986, Anne Geddes shoved a baby inside a flowerpot and took a series of pictures which made photographic history. Then on July 12 she got the photos back from the store and repeated the process, this time with the lens cap off. She was an overnight success, with countless thousands of people suddenly finding a hole in their lives which could only be filled by pictures of naked babies with garden implements. Anne Geddes filled that hole.

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 11:37 PM  38 comments

Doesn’t time just fly when you’re constructing an orbiting planet-sized battlestation? Seems like only yesterday I was putting the finishing touches on last week’s edition - but here we are again, it’s Friday, and that means it’s time for another installment of the Death Star News.

Company Picnic: As you all no doubt remember, the annual Death Star picnic was successfully held last weekend on Endor. A great time was had by all -- even those who tasted Grand Moff Rydoll’s hot dogs! Congratulations to Darth Vader, who won first, second and third prizes in the raffle, and commiserations to Corporal Eldin Vance, who unwisely accused Lord Vader of cheating and was quickly disintegrated by Force beams. I’m sure Lord Vader will enjoy his free carwash, dinner for two at Francine’s and the day spa voucher from Bodyglow (lucky Sith!). Sadly, several picnic attendees forgot to bring their Ewok repellant and ended up with some nasty bites.

Comings and Goings: Lt. Nigel Quimm and Capt. Freya Pondo are proud to announce the safe arrival of their bouncing Imperial baby son. Let’s all give a big, happy Death Star welcome to our newest crew member, little Darth Jack.

The following mid-ranking officers were choked to death by Lord Vader this week: Lieutenant Xin, Lieutenant Waderman, Captain Glendar and Commander Balf. We wish their families well.

Emperor’s Visit: Preparations are well under way for the upcoming visit by Emperor Palpatine, so don’t be surprised if you start seeing those handsome Imperial Guards wandering around. They’ll be checking your cubicles for dust and generally making sure the place is ship-shape for the Master, so remember: No feet on desks!

And finally...Fundraising: Yes, I know I harp on about it every week, but the Leisure Committee is still well short of the funds we need to upgrade the volleyball and squash courts. Next time Sandra comes round with her gingerbread Wookies, search your feelings -- and your pockets, too!

That’s all from me this week, crew members. Have a great weekend and death to the Rebel Alliance!

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 8:33 PM  4 comments

The corporate space race has begun in earnest with reports that media giant SpanCorp plans to launch a manned spacecraft by the end of 2005. SpanCorp’s original plan to send a manned spacecraft to Mars has been scaled back, and executives now hope to land astronauts in Antarctica.

“The potential of commercial space travel is enormous,” says SpanCorp CEO Branford Hennesy. “But Mars turned out to be, among other things, a lot further away than we had thought.”

Antarctica was chosen for its remoteness and, significantly, for the fact that it has not, so far, been conquered by astronauts. As Hennesy says, “Plenty of people have been there, but they haven’t gotten there by spaceship.”

SpanCorp’s proposal involves launching a team of six astronauts into outer space, where they will orbit the Earth for several months before landing and disembarking in Antarctica. There they will conduct various experiments before again blasting off into space, and finally returning to Earth.

“We expect this mission to attract an enormous amount of attention,” says Hennesy. “Antarctica is a land of incredible beauty and mystery, and no astronaut has ever set foot there. We’re going to change that, and in doing so, we’re going to change the world.”

SpanCorp has already invested approximately $250 million in research and development, and has earmarked a total of $12 billion for the project. But despite the company’s enormous resources, the return journey to Antarctica is still fraught with danger.

Just one example: Due to the lack of available anti-gravity facilities, the astronauts-in-training must train for zero gravity in so-called “mime tanks.” In the tanks, trainees simulate the effects of space travel by waving their arms around and making exaggerated faces.

As for Hennesy and SpanCorp, the only way is up, then down, and then back up again. “It’s all about pushing the realms of possibility, and stretching the borders of probability. Once we’ve conquered Antarctica, we can go anywhere.”

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 6:21 PM  5 comments

In August 2004, homeless man Ron Haermayer discovered a bundle of journals in a garbage skip in a Metropolis alleyway. The journals -- handwritten in a combination of standard cursive English and journalistic shorthand -- would have offered an unprecedented glimpse into the private life of The Man of Steel himself (Superman), were they not quickly shown to be obvious forgeries.

Tues, April 22 - Broke another razor today. One of those multi-blade space-age gizmos. That’s fifteen ninety-nine right down the toilet. Worthless piece of shit. There are some mornings when I’d gladly give up the bullet-proof skin if it meant I could trim my facial hair without a goddamned diamond-edged blade. On a reporter’s salary? You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Fri, April 25 - Forgot to take Krypto the Supermutt for his walk this morning. (Got caught up trying to see if my X-Ray vision would work on Katie Couric through the TV. It doesn’t. But it turns out the fat guy in the apartment behind my lounge wall watches the Today show with no pants on. Dirty bastard.)

Anyway. Krypto went a little stir-crazy while I was out. Shot up the whole apartment with his laser eyebeams (fried my entire Fleetwood Mac collection - thanks a lot, asshole!) plus he somehow got shit all over his goddamn cape. There is no way in hell I’m going to get my deposit back on this apartment.

Sat, April 26 - You would not fucking believe how many beers I have to suck down before I get even a slight fucking buzz. Seven hundred eighty-six fucking beers. Oh, and one Midori and Coke, but that was just to humor that dancing girl.

Was it worth it? I don’t remember. Flew into a building on my way home - bet that’s gonna make the papers - and woke up with my underpants on inside my tights. Then I broke the toilet bowl with a single superpowered puke. Shattered that fucker into like a thousand pieces. I’m a fucking disgrace.

Sun, April 27 - I’m a good man, right? I try to do the right thing. I plugged that dam the other week...Shoved a bunch of rocks into a volcano and saved a whole fucking Japanese island. I even grabbed that little pyromaniac brat from the housefire he started himself. (And what did I get for my trouble? Little bastard set fire to my cape. Burned the shit out of my “S”.) But I don’t let shit like that stop me. I’m out there, day after day, just trying to keep the world from blowing itself up...A guy’s entitled to blow off a little steam. Right? Right?

So it happened again. Jesus fucking Christ. Doesn’t seem to matter how many condoms I put on - latex just ain’t gonna stop my superspeeding sperm. A perfectly nice hooker, pierced to death in a couple of seconds by Kryptonian jism. It squirted right through the small of her back. Fucking disgusting. So, I heatvisioned her and scattered the ashes down by the docks. What, I should hand her in? “Cause of death: Perforated by alien fucking spermatazoa.” Yeah, that’d go down real well.

What’s a guy supposed to do? Last time I masturbated I blew a hole in the wall and damn near shot down a passenger plane. I tell ya. It’s not easy. It’s not fucking easy.

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 9:17 AM  8 comments

#1.

A man named Kevin walks into a 7-11 and orders a slurpee (flavor: Blue Heaven). Five minutes later, a second man named Kevin walks in and also orders a Blue Heaven slurpee. Ten minutes after that, a third man, also named Kevin, comes in and orders a Blue Heaven slurpee.

How is this possible?

#2.

At precisely 12.00 midnight on the 12th of December, a scuba diver dies of a heart attack after reaching a depth of 1200 meters. At the time of death, the temperature at sea level is twelve point twelve degrees Celsius.

Why does his watch read 7.22pm?

#3.

Romeo gives Juliet a golden brooch bearing a lion emblem. In turn, Juliet gives Tybalt a pair of cufflinks with a “G” insignia. Tybalt then gives Benvolio a voucher for half-price dinner at Silvio’s, valid Wednesday through Saturday. Finally, Benvolio gives Mercutio a stylish, fitted T-shirt.

Following the logical sequence, what does Mercutio give Romeo?

ANSWERS:

#1. The AGM of the North American Branch of the Fellowship of Men Named Kevin was going on just up the road. (The Blue Heaven thing is simply a coincidence.)

#2. The watch was wrong.

#3. A hand-job.

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 9:14 AM  12 comments

Please note: Grey is the new black. Teal becomes the new grey. There is no new teal. (Should you require the old teal, a kind of greeny-turquoise should suffice.) Turkey is the new ‘other’ white meat. “Hott” is the new “Bootylicious”. Yogilates is the new Taebo. The new Yogilates is either KickCardioBox or Capoeira -- Qi-Gung is not acceptable. Message board posters: “IMHO” is out. “IMO” is the new “IMHO”. (“IHOP” continues to refer only to pancakes.) Finally, it is possible that “...is so hot right now” is the new “...is the new black”. We will get back to you.

# posted by Television's Kynan Barker : 9:11 AM  3 comments