Screw you Facebastard

You know what my facebook account feels like?

It feels like having a cute kid who you loved so very much you bought it everything it wanted and spoiled it rotten. Now that kid is an ungrateful little bitch teenager who just nicked all the money from your purse and has fucked off to Topshop to buy laddered tights and cider.

This started with a simple attempt to change profile information. I logged in, of all irony,to update it with my twitter ID (@ZtotheC). So that I could be identified to a network I actually use. On navigating to profile settings facebook asked, nay told me that all those words I lovingly crafted to describe my interests and likes must now link to facebook pages. I say, “thanks, but no, I don’t want to link to those pages. They are crap, have nothing on and most of them don’t make sense”. Facebastard say, “you have no choice in this underling, link to those pages from your profile or we won’t let you have any profile information at all, including the basic things like where you went to school. And, by the way, your face on those shit pages that we are going to make you link to is ours now, it is public and will show up not only in search engine results pages and facebook searches, but on 66 billion 3rd party websites. So shut your crybaby ass, because if you have a profile, your photo and name belong to us to make use of as we see fit and there is nothing you can do about it. And don’t think you can get clever by choosing to have all profile details set to private and selecting not to show up in searches, because that won’t work, you’re still going to show up on all those 3rd party sites and in serps. You’re our bitch now.”

And I said, “Fuck you Facebastard.”

And that, is what really happened.

A person over at Cre8pc Blog does a far nicer job of explaining this change to the way facebook works, and with pictures too.

But go on, I dare you, try and update your profile information.

Jeeezus. I don’t mean to be all pious about privacy. It doesn’t escape me that there are 858 photos of me willingly shared among a mere 342 friends. But I look at website user data all. day. long. And my spidey senses tell me there something to be wary of in this update. I'm probably in the minority for overreacting and feeling this way. I am also likely a raving paranoid acting in full knowledge of all the grey hat uses I'll put this newly shared data to during the day job. But above all, I feel like I’m being backed into a corner BY A FUCKING WEBSITE. Facebastard has all my photos and is an automatic directory of email addresses for pretty much everyone I’ve ever known. That stuff is meaningful and isn’t something I can easily come by elsewhere. If I want that stuff preserved, I have to gamble my identity.

My spoilt bitch teenager has now nicked the car keys and is threatening to run me over with my own rusty Peugot 106 unless I give her more money for cider.

Should you be someone who is more concerned about privacy than I am, (I am simply bloody minded about my own data), then this, this, this and this may bother you. This may just make you laugh.

I’ll continue my slow departure from facebastard by moving my photos, email addresses, and finally catching up with people I’ve been wanting to talk to for ages but haven’t quite managed to (because facebastard is good at helping me take everyone for granted), and then I’ll be deactivating my account.

When Zuckerberg stops being a megalomaniacal git and gives me back control of my description of me I’ll come back. But I doubt he'll want me. He probably won't even notice I've gone. He may also have to do some quality control in the future. Call me a prude, but look beyond the updates of your friends and you’ll see that facebook is now an un-policed cesspool of uselessness. Much like most of the internet c.1999.

Remember when Facebook was joyous, entertaining turds of wisdom in your stream? It was awesome. And now it is a mind-numbing chore of a bastard trading your data for power, and telling your future boss that you 'liked' the FHM article about sodomy and that you listened to Justin Beiber last night, whether you like it or not. And if I was him, I'd judge you for that.

The bitch teenager is now entirely cider dependent so I've sold loaned her to the local pimp on a commission basis and am using the money to fund a new snowboard

SCREW YOU FACEBASTARD.

The end.

15 Albums you say? Why the hell not...

I think there is meant to be some insightful copy/paste gumph up here about this being a list of Your Lifechanging 15 Albums. The album that made you not jump, the one over which you had your first saucy romp, and the one which forced you to just put the friggin gun down dude...

However, insightful instructions elude me, so here comes, simply, a list of some 15 of the albums I have loved most.

1. Pulp - Different Class

When you're a teen, and plonked between Oasis and Blur, Pulp was the clear winner. Jarvis is the best. It was tough to choose between Different Class and his solo album.

2. Fiona Apple - When the Pawn...

Twisted, angry, eating disordered, cynical druggy chick rants, blames it all on her boyfriends and plonks it out on the piano. Hell yeah.

3. The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses

To this day, friggin' unbeatable. This one is coming to the desert island with me.

4. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago

Sigh. Dragged to the sweet lovely heights of the Beardyman's gibberish falsettos, (I swear I can only comprehend about 2% of all the lyrics on this album), then having the rug whipped out from underneath me and crashing into heartcrunching loneliness. When it comes to music, I guess nothing makes me happier than depression. This was my horrifically bittersweet Boston departure album.

5. Whitney Houston - Whitney

My first 'proper' tape. (Which means one I didn't tape off the Top 40 radio show on a sunday afternoon). I still know all the lyrics...

6. PJ Harvey - Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea

So friggin' cool. Love everything about this album. I want to play bass and wear mini-skirts.

7. Carole King - Tapestry

My love of piano driven everything and feisty female songwriters everything started here, decades before I even realised it.

8. I Am Kloot - Natural History

John Bramwell is a miserable northern bastard and I love him. One of the most underrated British bands of the past decade. Fact. This album made me long for drizzly England while I baked to death under the Spanish sun.

9. Antony and the Johnsons - I am a Bird Now

Moved me to tears.

10. Roisin Murphy - Ruby Blue

Bleeps and clicks in exactly the way bleeps and clicks should be used. Weird and perfect.

11. Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Amen

Ahhh... more piano punching, clever lyricist amazingness.

12. The Mountain Goats - The Sunset Tree

Makes you glad to be alive. And glad you didn't grow up in John Darnielle's house.

13. Guillemots - Through the Windowpane

My ex-roommate's band.

14. Arcade Fire - Funeral

:-o

15. Bring It On - Gomez

Tijuana lady is beauuuuutiful. Whippin' Picadilly is indiebouncetastic. Love is Better than a Warm Trombone is [insert an appropriate adjective here if you can find one]. Rie's wagon is just plain trippy. A F%^KING COOL ALBUM. Ben Ottewell and his voice were also responsible for my subsequent adoration of all boys dorky. It pains me that they are currently touring as support for Dave Matthews band. This was also The Album which kicked off my leaving home for the first time, moving to exotic shores (if you can call Northern Brittany exotic), and having the year of a lifetime. This was the album that was with me through THE lifechanging times and has never left me since.

Is it me, or is Thailand a bit grubby?

"Its beautiful!" they said. "Like paradise" they said. "Watch out for ladyboys" is also something they said. So, off to Thailand I trotted with an open mind. I had a wonderful time and was repeatedly swept off my feet by how kind, friendly, and helpful everyone who didn't drive a tuqtuq was towards us.

However, with the exception of the wonderful service, if I'm truthful, I found myself frequently wondering what all the fuss was about.

The beaches, jungle, rock formations are all quite nice, but if you're looking for breathtaking tropical paradise you might be disappointed.

I can certainly see the appeal of the safe, wallet-friendly, accessible packet of land that is Thailand. And it is entirely likely that I am spoiled by Cape Town. I'm also sure that Thailand was a very different place 15 years ago than it is now. But the fact there is still a constant stream of people returning claiming it to be THE most beautiful place ever bemuses me. Garbage blights every populated part from the smallest villages to the towns. Even the supposed unspoilt 'paradise' islands have bays polluted by the crap pumped out by 100s of passing long boats, turning the water grey and soupy, plastic debris washes up on the beaches every morning and is cleaned by hand. Now, I actually don't consider any of these things deal breakers, I'm pretty realistic about the ramifications of so many people clamouring to visit one rapidly developing corner of the planet at the same time.

However what we haven't mentioned is the flattery and sex trade that Thailand boasts.
A distinctly rough looking paradise where men are made to feel like kings gets regaled as the most wonderful place in the world. Coincidence? Possibly. Elephant in the Thai Tourist Board room? Definitely.

Foxtrot Oscar

"Show me someone who's genuinely interested in glamour and I'll ask you why you've introduced me to your twat of a friend."

After reading that, think I may have fallen a little in Love with David Mitchell. Despite appearances, he is quite a badass. This was one of the objections he raised in last weekend's Observer column. He was sick and tired of the annual pomp, sensationalism and high profile nonsense which surrounds the Oscars. And he has a point. The cult surrounding the ceremony is so waaaaay out of proportion to its significance.

Even the panel of judges who aren't incredible authorities on film. Honestly - did you know that 14 year old Dakota Fanning is a member of the guild? I'm not saying that the majority of guild members aren't terribly talented. But I do feel that they represent a very narrow set of perspectives on film, and the ingredients which produce a good film.

I mean, what is a good film? A film that makes you feel so upset you cry, a film that tells you about a world and events you knew nothing about? Yes. Maybe. Probably. But haven't we seen all those things MANY MANY MANY times before? If this is what we're after lets just run a cocktail of Schindler's list, titanic, and Steel Magnolias from now until eternity.

It isn't exactly breaking down the boundaries.

Even the 'thoughtful' one-sided representation of the world of film and does not deserve to be taken as seriously as it is. Frankly, I feel like all it takes to get considered for a best motion picture award is a bit of budget, take on a tricky historical topic but deliver it only through the channel of a heart-rending love story to make it more palatable to the masses who have already been brainwashed by decades of Oscarism teaching them that a good film has a goodie, a baddie and a moral. It's patronising crap. And makes it so so terribly difficult for all those interesting film makers out there. The oscars are just SO uninteresting.

I've never really cared or understood the Oscars and always attributed this to the fact that I'm not much of a film fiend. But that is often because I feel like most films are crap. They really are. Perhaps I was spoiled by poncy (as some might say) foreign language movies in formative years French and Spanish cinema studies at uni. Nonetheless, spending a tenner to go to the cinema to watch a hollywood film where it is entirely clear within the first 20 minutes who the baddie is, who you must hate, who you must like, what the moral of the story is going to be... harumph.

I'd rather spend the money on a new top. Which, ironically lumps me into David Mitchell's 'twat of a friend' category.

The Half-Marathon Mix

I'm a friggin' eejit. I'm running a half marathon in SIX DAYS TIME. Yes, just you count 'em. 1 through 6. Not many days left. Unfortunately, I have not trained for this beastly 13.2 miles. In the past 4 months, my longest distance completed has been 6 miles. Yes, once again, just you count 'em. 1 though 6. Not many miles. Fuck.

So, I have this impending humiliation, failure, and excruciating pain to look forward to. Delightful. My best friend through all this; my rock, my love, my all, will be... my mp3 player, (and The Loser). The only thing that I can imagine will help us is putting together an inconceivably great 2.5hr playlist. One which will temporarily endow me with superhuman energy reserves, magically give me quads powerful enough to make Linford Christie blush, and generally distract me from the fact that I'm an idiot who should have been training instead of sitting on my arse in the pub eating chips.

People, help me out here - inspiring empowering (not lame) tracks to get me through?

Powerless in Brixton

So, the gig I was meant to go see at Brixton Academy last night was cancelled at the last minute by the venue. I had laboured through a hangover fuelled, sleep deprived Friday, and the one thing keeping me going was my obligation to go see Ladyhawke and Ting Tings at Brixton academy. Wasn't too bovvered (innit) about Ting Tings, (randomly managed to catch their pre-gig sound check at a venue in Boston once - that was enough for me), but was quite looking forward to some Hawking with The Lady. Shame.


However, the cancellation is a bit weird. According to NME news it was due to a power failure in the Lambeth area. But I live in the Lambeth area, and less than a few minutes on foot from the venue... and there were certainly no power cuts nor resultant emergency ice-cream consumption before it melts, chez-Zo. Every single bar, fried chicken shop and late night weave salon that populates Brixton Road was not only alight with liveliness of that Friday feeling but well electrified and flaunting its super(lightbulb)powers. What exactly went wrong in Brixton academy? Apparently there have been a couple of other cancellations at the venue due to power failures. My suspicions are that it was a temporary and unexpected problem, but no one wanted to go down to the scary basement to flip the trip switch... Sort it out O2 Brixton!

Annie Flummox

Is it just me, or is this bloody horrible? I'm so disappointed. It ruined my Saturday morning of laying in bed watching iplayer and Lost catch-ups. It has to be said, Annie Lennox is something of a Goddess. She must surely be about 85 by now but she doesn't look a day over 65. She has written many kickass tunes, bitched out her ex-husband by the power of song, is a clever lady who speaks no crap, she has... integrity? Well. At least I thought she did until this gross MOR cover of Shining light wearing a Britney-style fedora and and a waistcoat which was clearly stolen from a dozing Pearly King.

Wtf is going on with that atrocious band she is singing with? And that nasty little guitar solo that she dances to? Ugh. I like this song, it's a beloved drunken anthem of my not-so-wild youth. I'd happily listen to it. I just don't get why, if she will insist on covering Shining Light, (and let's face it, it wasn't the most original choice of cover song), she didn't do a synthy, electropop version of it. It's what she is great at ffs, it would have been awesome! And if she is trying to be all bang on-trend and down with the kids, (as her dodgy attire suggests), then a cool keyboard and bleep driven interpretation could have easily thrown her into the realm of trendy folktronica. (And would have done an awful lot more for her integrity than that suspicious red blousoon did).

If you want a great cover of Shining Light, check out the Duke Special version. It is flippin' lovely. In fact, the Duke is flippin' lovely. Unfortunately, there is not footage of the cover on YouTube, (but I have the mp3 - email me and I'll send it you). Instead, have some other Duke Special niceness: