Renovation Rant

Just like on TV. Just without the drama, excitement, amusement, entertainment...
From The Antisocial Bastard and The Iron Yuppie, creators of the critically ignored Antisocial Rant, comes their latest and greatest production. Coming to you this Summer, it is: ANTISOCIAL RANT!
The colours have never been better or talented. Antisocial Rant now stars colouring E486, E489, E156, and E398 as 'Miscellaneous background colour number 3', and introducing E186 in its weblog début.
No more bland layout. Antisocial Rant now features an edgier format, designed by the world's most famous and renowned fashion designers (well, it's actually made by some dude).
Antisocial Rant has been remodelled to feature 50% more political satire, 75% more explosions, 90% more gratuitous nudity and product placement, the exact same amount of comedy (ie. none), 200% more sex appeal, and .001% less boredom.
You want a plot. You got it. Antisocial Rant now has more plot twists than you can poke a stick at. Two terrorists for every corrupt politician. A hot steamy romance for every hot lusty affair (keep watching for the revelation between the love interest and her sister's cousin's uncle's evil wicca stepmother, twice removed). You want feelgood stories about a cat that can count, or fat people. You got it. This script was written by the finest writers in Hollywood, and stolen word for word from their respective TV sitcoms.
Critics have applauded Antisocial Rant, including: "Utter Crap. 5 stars" and "What in the hell is an Antisocial Rant? Get out of my house, you". Want to know what they are talking about. There's only one way to find out.
Antisocial Rant. Coming to a cinema near you.

Rated PG-13. Batteries not included.

No viewing of Antisocial Rant would be complete without official Antisocial Rant merchandise. Available from all good shops right now: The Iron Yuppie action figure, bottles of lost, the Antisocial Rant soundtrack, and the official Antisocial Bastard bootleg underpants. Buy them! (don'T mAke me reSorT to insErting an aRrAy of sublimiNal messages in this posT)

The Boiler Room

aka. Ice, Ice Baby
Humans have created some godawful situations in their lifetime: War, terrorism, and fast food kitchens (it's greasy. Very, very greasy). However, none of these can compare to the sheer mind-numbing torture that is: The job interview.

You walk into the office with the nervous posture that would put the Hunchback of Nostre Dame to shame. You nervously ask the reception lady (it's always a lady) where to go. Without even looking up, she condemns you to the row of chairs; half of them filed with equally nervous job applicants. You can just see the bricks dropping from their pants. The reception lady gets back to her tasks, wiping her hands clean of your presence.
They all look up at you. Upon realising that you are yet another applicant, they give you The Evil Eye. They shuffle themselves away from your direction, paranoid that you will, for some reason, steal their resume notes, even though you have absolutely no use of some crappy work experience job in some miscellaneous office filing papers to nowhere.
As soon as you take your seat, it becomes freezing cold. This is the effect of The Cold Shoulder. Everyone sticks to themselves, never speaking a word, never generating small talk, even though you all are brothers, bonded by interview trauma, about to be led like lambs to the slaughter. Even those who do bother making small talk are so nervous, that you can't understand a word of what they say, only hearing jittery gibberish.
You stare at the blank walls, somehow hypnotised by the emptiness. Paranoid thoughts pass through your head, transforming the inevitable-yet-unintentional truancy of the interviewer into a test of courage and faith.

Finally, after everyone else has walked the green mile to their interview, you are called. You flinch, surprised and horribly scared. You shuffle that little bit too quickly into the interview room, filled only with a bookshelf holding smelly 50-year old books, a poster with a rock climber and the word 'Courage', an empty chair, a bare desk and the interviewer. There is no natural light to speak of, only a single 75 Watt light bulb filling the darkness, yet not shielding you from the inevitable darkness of the upcoming events.
The interviewer stares at you, observing and over-analysing you as you sit down. They introduce themselves. You smile (badly) as you shake their hand, repeating their name over and over again in your head. They crap out a tangle of lies, claiming that you are important to their business, that you don't have to be so tense. Nothing could be further from the truth. You've already forgotten their name.
You give them your resume, your hand trembling like there's no tomorrow. You begin to panic as you over-over-analyse one of their blinks as a look of disappointment. They finally finish, saying that it looks good. You break out into another sweat as they put your beloved resume into a manila folder, disposing of it like a used tissue.
You stress like a man facing a shooting squad as they start shooting the Questions at you. "What can you bring to our business?" "Why do you want to work here" "Can you see yourself working here?". You blindly reply with answers that you spent all last night rehearsing in your head and to your rather pissed off family/roomies/significant other. Then they pull out the big guns: The absolutely worthless metaphorical questions. "If you were an animal, which one would you be?" "What would you do if ?” You stammer, pause, pause and pause some more, the awkward silence permeating the air like your sweat. You finally stutter out a reply that a 6 year old kid would make. They write down some notes. You begin to have a nervous breakdown.

At long last, you shake their hand again and farewell them. You get out of that room as quickly as you can. As soon as you step back into civilisation, you are ecstatic. You wish your other rivals the "best of luck", almost hugging and kissing them in your present state. They nervously reply and resume their hypnotic state, staring the wall infront of them.
You get home. And then it hits you, The Inevitable Lament. You lost that night's sleep regretting nearly everything that happened in that interrogation/interview.
You lose more sleep over the next couple of days sitting at the phone. Sitting, waiting, lamenting, hoping for that inevitable call...

Happy (belated, egocentric) birthday to me

cakecakecakecakeflashbackcakecakecakecakecakeremiscingcakecakecakecakecake
Well, it's now officially a year (and three months, but that aside) since the creation, nay, the birth of Antisocial Rant, the opinion-based blog loved by millions...many...several...5 people at most. Hooray for me!
So many memories, so many opinions, so little time. Looking back, many of these opinions have pretty much no relevance today. Who gives a crap about football umpires, about a video game, about the 2004 Olympics. However, some topics brough up by this site (well, observed, anyway) have lasted. Tell me that you don't care passionately about obesity, about crap music, about novelty merchandise.
I've even spawned some other creations. Who hasn't loved the Iron Yuppie and its tales of woe, excitement and et cetera. I've even inspired others to join in on the joys (read as 'banalities') of web logg-ing (visit Tromboner's Corner to see. "shameless plug...can't wipe the dirt off")
Well, this brings this nostalgia trip to a close, along with the shortest post on this blog, apart from the intro. Here's to another year (9 months, actually) of fun, oh-so frequent rants on the most banal of topics (wow, I used the word 'banal' twice in a post), poor syntax and grammar, and even more egocentric events.

Cheers!

Muzakal Revue: Novelty Month

A frog, a crocodile and a chipmunk walk into a bar...being swung at their direction by me
The ARIA singles chart right now is in a very, very sad state. Why? According to these charts (25/7/05), not one, not two, but THREE novelty, utter bullshi'ite songs are terrorising our charts. Two of those songs are singles based on ringtones. T'other is the conventional novelty song. The songs that I need mention are:

• No. 1: Crazy Frog - Axle F
• No. 2: Akon - Lonely
• No. 12: Schnappi - Das Kleine Krokadil (Crocodile Song)

Let's start with the most disturbing trend. Back in the day (of which I can't remember), the crazy frog (notice the lack of capital letters, on my behalf) sound effect was released into the world. Coupla years later, mobile company jamster bought the rights, and began to not only flog the dead horse, but do other sick, twisted things to it. And now we come to the single, number one in many countries, including the UK and Australia.
The crocodile song also spawned off a ringtone.
Which poses the following question: SINCE WHEN IS A RINTONE CONSIDERED A FUNKING SINGLE?! This worse than the conventional novelty song(Macarena, Ketchup Song, etc.). At least they have some sort of substance and purpose out of it, maybe even a dance. These marketing ploys, which are about as subtle as someone beating you over the head with a mallet with the word "shameless" written all over it, are soulless. No musical talent, no passion, no talent, no purpose...did I mention no talent? They are a waste of our air(waves), and annoying as hell to boot.
Let's get back to individual attacks for a minute. The crazy frog ringtone is probably one of the most, nay, the most annoying thing I've had the displeasure to hear. However, there are as many people who hail the frog (and I ask them, why?) as people who want to tear that frog a new one. So what do jamster do? They steal a movie theme, add a doof-doof beat, and release it as a single, with three additional mixes. Original(!).
The crocodile song...well, I haven't actually heard the song, so no bitching for this one. However, I have heard from many reliable sources that it is a crappy song. And looking at the single, it has a total of eight tracks, including: the original, the X-mas mix, and even the karaoke mix. A slight bit of overkill, there.
Now, lonely. Although this isn't a novelty song per se (since akon's actually released an album), I call it a novelty song for it's main feature: the annoying high-pitched chipmunk sample. The entire song wraps itself around it, which isn't a good thing to do in this case. Not to mention the fact the akon is all show, no substance. He can't carry a tune, and, to severely understate it, I've heard tryhard wiggaz (sic) who can rap/r&b better than akon.
The only piece of comfort I can hang on to is the fact that the singles chart isn't exactly the best indication of musical preferences. The main people who buy the stuff are kids up to the age of 14 or so, the perfect type of annoying little crap who can actually stand mindless white noise (aka. ringtones). After all, these are the kids who can watch the exact same episode of a fad anime 20 times and still enjoy it, and who decide to play all their ringtones on the train at full blast.
I won't bother to delve into the disturbing psyche of the mobile phone/novelty song creator, nor the fans who listen to and enjoy them, but it is a disturbing threat to modern musical society, which has already taken too many for them team. Need I mention the Idol winners, wuss rock (simple plan, in particular) and William Hung. The plague needs to be stopped, because if I hear that stupid frog one more freaking time...

Repeat after me: terrorism is boring

Because repetition is boring. It's boring to be repetitive. Repetiveness is boredom(ness).
Before I begin, let's make it clear that the London attacks were devastating and tragic. Now that that fact is clear, let's move on.

The London bombing is one of the most important news items of this year (apart from Shane Warne's hair regrowth, which, as we all know, is massive stuff. Why did it only make the front pages of nearly every newspaper, even the broadsheets? Why no hour-long heartstring-pulling/product-plugging interview about the new rug? But I digress)
This is the first major terror attack since Madrid last year (remember that, folks?), and we as the public had to know every single, minute detail. What time the bombs struck, the causality count, the brand of coffee the person in the 60th seat of the 2nd carriage was drinking when the first bomb went off. All of these details are each as important, if not more important, than the previous one.
That said, the TV coverage was in two ways like an all-you-can-eat buffet. First off, there was plenty of choice. In Australia, we had either the ABC (who was screening CNN all night), Channel Ten (who had CNN for an hour before screening their top priority show, Big Brother), Channel 7 (who couldn't make up their mind between this or the cricket, causing some interesting segues) and Channel 9 (who screened ITN). And cable viewers had a lot more choice with CNN, Fox (who would be looping Dubya's comments whilst praising him as their saviour), and more Brittish networks than you can poke with a stick.
However, unless you''re willing to pay, most of the food at a buffet is bland and near-identical. The TV coverage was the same. Unless you had pay TV, you were stuck with the leftovers provided by free-to-air TV. This means footage of the aftermath in a mind-numbing, repetitive loop. Every five minutes, we saw the exact same footage of soot-covered victims, the exact same footage of that double-decker bus, the video-phone footage of the trains (what kind of sicko would want to record that kind of smut. After all, who needs a life when you can record low-quality video as that rubble above your head falls?), and the exact same footage of the gurney with papers flying from it trying to get past police tape (That was my personal highlight).
If a station expects to keep viewers interested, they would have to provide new, hard-hitting footage. 'Less analysis, more paralysis' is the key here. Back in September 11, people were glued to their screens. School classes and workplaces came to a halt to watch the events unfold. I'm guessing that millions upon millions watched. Why? Not only was it major, major stuff, but it provided action. It showed the big hits, in full colour and widescreen. Not just barely-lit video-phone footage.
These attacks on London were a tragedy. I'm not denying that fact. However, we need to be able to keep track with events as they unfold. Watching the same footage over and over and over and over and over and over again isn't exactly keeping us informed. Even a bit of expert opinion may liven things up. But unless the networks are willing to go the whole yard and keep on pumping us with information, why bother?

SEX! Now that I've got your attention...

New and Improved Antisocial Rant: Now with 24-7 girl-on-girl action (action) (action)
Is it me, or have the promos for TV shows taken a rather sharp slide in quality since the start of 2005?

Biggest example: Channel 10 and The OC. Never watched the show myself, but I've seen the ads to know enough about the show. According to Channel 10, the OC seems to be nothing but a hot lesbian porno based in California. Each and every episode promises more hotter and sluttier "girl-on-girl action", with some of that useless family and relationship drama filler thrown in between the big all-female orgies.
A bit of an overstatement, yes. But take a look see at the ads. In big, bright letters: "Girl-On-Girl Action". Not once, not twice, but thrice splashed all over the screen. In bright, pretty colours. Complete with the throaty female voice over.
However, despite these promises of good old lesbian lovin', they've yet to deliver on this promise (according to a reliable source who began watching the show for said lovin'). It might be okay if this is the first week of promos, but the ads have promised this visual orgy for about...oh I dunno...since the start of the year, all in a ploy to attract the lucrative Horny-teen-male demographic who people want to associate with so much.
At some point, however, this ratings-inspired promise does eventually come at one point (pun kinda-sorta intended) halfway towards the season, when the two girls (look away now if you're an OC watcher) kiss. That's right, a simple peck. Lemme ask you this. When I spout the words "girl-on-girl action", what's the first thing that pops into your head? Hot lesbian loving, that's what. And I dare say, a peck does not constitute the aforementioned loving.
Ten, though, have a different mindset. According to them, "girl-on-gril action" refers to the emotional and relationship development between the two girls. Give me four people on the face of the planet who thinks "emotions" when "girl-on-girl action" is mentioned (who isn't a Ten exec, an ultra-conservative lock-in, or someone who still believes in cooties and germlocks), and I'll give you a pat on the head.
I know that I may should like a disappointed viewer hoping for some satisfaction from an M rated rip-off of Melrose Place or 90210. But this isn't the first time that Channel 10 have featured stoggy promos and left many disappointed apart from the many horny teens who are getting rather impatient.

Take another show on the same channel, on the same day, just before the OC. That's right, The Simpsons. One famous example was the promotion of an episode as a rip-off of another (much more successful) TV show, Lost. As it turns out, the show had nothing to do with the show. Same thing with another episode which Ten claimed was the "inspiration for The Aviator" (their words).
Another classic example: Big Brother 04. Big surprises were expected. Big surprises were promoted for about 6 months. What was the surprise: A $1 million prize. Who in the hell cares?
Two more examples: The HotHouse and The Resort. Promoted as being the next big thing in reality TV shows. Guess what? They both bombed, nay, they crashed and burned their way into that special level of hell reserved for reality show participants and drugged-up child actors.

Getting back to the OC, many people are switching off their TVs during that hot hot hour, alienated by the promo spin, or they've lost all hope in getting that girl-on-girl action. So why are Ten still (falsely) promoting the OC as one of those naughty films? And until the kiss (not even a 1st-base worthy one, and not even a single grope thrown in) happens, we'll have to continue being fed this perverted spin. And it's bound to continue, with the upcoming reality diatribe that is Skippy Idol, and its claims of the next big thing in muzak (but, series 2 winner, Casey's fall and fall, note the lack of 'rise', will have to wait for another day)




On the next Antisocial Rant: Hot girl-on-girl action (action) (action)
NB. No actual guarantees. Just strongly worded suggestions.

Bottles of Lost

New refreshing Lost water. Gotta love it (cause we say so)
Listen hard, and read this true
I have a disgruntled tale for you.
With shameless plugs and ads galore
That'll have you crying "Please, no more".

T'was once a network on Aussie waves
Devoid of ratings or critical rave.
Then two US shows came up for bid
And quick smart, they bought it they did.

"But how to make people know" they thought
"Of all these wonderous shows we've bought?"
"But of course" they said, light bulbs lit bright
"We'll force-feed these shows with all our might".

And so it began, the great campaign
'Til man, woman, child knew the shows' names.
One has a plane crash taking control
T'other shows a lady giving her head a new hole.

Much o'the campaign was riddled with cheese
Vox pops from that network's celebs, oh please.
The tennis was too a mighty great blast
With commentators promoting out o'their arse.

The pilot of Desperate Housewives was shown
In many a house, t'was nary a groan.
2.5 million tuned in to watch
Non-stop advertising does that much.

Thursday day, that night Lost would screen
There were chesty women ever so green
Shamelessly giving out bottles of Lost
To folk who didn't give a great toss.

Many people watched that show called Lost
It seems these shows were worth the cost.
The network must've smoked some bad stuff
'Cause they thought that once wasn't enough.

So 'encore' specials were on the cards
Just in case our friend's lives were marred.
They aired not one, twice, but thrice
It's like having an arm in a vice.

So week two of these 'promising' shows
Guarantees some more marketing lows.
When Desperate Housewives is back on the clocks
Maybe we'll be sucking their...lollipops.

The countdown

A tale which poses the question: Who actually likes their job?
10 - Ten years I’ve been doing this job. And all of it has been a living hell. Crap conditions and no benefits whatsoever. Why did I even choose this gig?
9 - $9,500. That’s all I get paid for this. Despite all the effort and determination I put into every year, some pimple faced kid at a fast food joint gets paid more than me.
8 - Eight years ago, I had the chance to leave. Why, oh why, didn’t I just run? Was it pride? Was it the love for this job? I feel like such an idiot, now that I look back at that opportunity.
7 - Seven injuries I’ve had on the job. My life has been on the line so many times, but I never get any acknowledgement for this. So many burns, yet I’ve never received even one compo cheque.
6 - Six times I’ve been rejected by ladies that I’ve fallen in love with. None of them liked my job, they said. Only a loser would do what I do, they said.
5 - Five years after I took this job, I finally found the true love of my life. She didn’t care about my job, she cared about me. Either she is lying, or she is much of an ignorant idiot as I am.
4 - Four other jobs I’ve had in the past ten years. They didn’t like this job, either. They wanted me to focus completely on their job, not on this little game. Why did I not listen to them instead of blowing up their cars?
3 - Three kids that I take care of, all of them under 10. Yet they still are ashamed of their father’s part time job. How pathetic. Not even a child who doesn’t know their times tables would do this job.
2 - Two things I hold close to my heart. One is my family. The other is the saying: ‘Don’t dream. Don’t think. Do.’ Well I’m not a hypocrite, so I must do something about this hole I’ve dug myself in.
1 - One hundred thousand people are watching. So here goes nothing. I Quit!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
…
…
“Hey, where are the fireworks?”
“What’s happened? Is the fireworks guy asleep or something!?”

A look-see through 2004

2004: The year of the war-hungry, disaster-prone snake who everyone likes (apparently)
Well, just a couple of hours until 2005 leaps upon us. It’s been an eventful year (like every other year). So what better way to segue out 2004 by writing an analysis of the moments that made us feel things? Well, there’s partying, fireworks, getting hammered, getting together with friends, and so on, but I’ve got bugger all plans, so I’ll go the 42^nd best option.

However, for no real reason, I’ll stay away from tackling the real issues. If you want politics, terrorism and celebrity break-ups, go anywhere else. It feels like every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to pitch in their 2 cents to the debate (or their $50 notes to various charities). But stick around, and you’ll get the hard opinions on:

Music
It’s been a mixed year in terms of the muzak that is asphyxiating our airwaves and CD shops. There have been a lot of goodies, but there has also been an unfortunate uprising of one of the most hideous genres of music. That’s right, wuss rock. We’ve been flooded with this curse, from the crap provided by Hobbastank, to the shonk dished out by Simple Plan [shudder]. Thankfully, most of these bands have failed miserably. When was the last time you heard a second single from Star Sailor or the Ramsus? Unfortunately, the likes of Good Charlotte and Blink 182 (the new depressing punk, not the good stuff they’ve previously done) still exist.

Movies
The stuff on the silver screen, fortunately, has proved much more satisfying than the radio. It has been, inevitably, the year of the documentary, with nearly one documentary released for every two or so feature films.
Some of the top flicks (in my opinion) included: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Shrek 2, Super Size Me, Bad Santa, Shaun of the Dead, and The Incredibles.
Then there are the absolute stinkers, which included: Once Upon A Time In Mexico, Somersault, Taxi (the trailer and plot alone puts this one in the list), and (to a lesser extent) Hellboy.

Well, that’s my view of 2004. Quite empty, isn’t it? But think about it. Who can be stuffed typing a post for a blog on a hot summer night, let alone on New Year’s Eve?

Anyway, have a shiny 2005.