keresaspa: (Homer rage)
You'll forgive me if I pass on the end of year survey thing this time out as, for more reasons than I care to remember, I'll have little desire to recall 2016 in the future. But nonetheless I'll draw a veil on this most egregious of twelvemonths in my own time-honoured fashion:

Top 100 Artists of the Year )
keresaspa: (Nina looking a tad pertubed)
Nothing quite like this time of year to bring the vermin out is there, be it the drunken scum littering the streets from the early afternoon or the filthy politicians rewarding their cronies with their plastic "honours". Pah, they can stuff this particular arbitrary date in the calendar where the sun doesn't shine as far as I'm concerned. But I've established my own tradition for this specific date and I must keep it going regardless so:

Keresaspa's top 100 artists of the year )
keresaspa: (Albert Gladstone Trotter)
2013, eh? What a year! All this new stuff happened, a bunch of old stuff stopped happening and a load of other stuff continued happening. Crazy! There'll never be another year the same, although every year will probably be a bit like it in that there'll be earthquakes and chaffinches and carbon dioxide and outbreaks of drizzle and quarks and all that other stuff that every year is packed with. You know, fifty years from now if somebody comes up to me and says "remember 2013?" I'll say, well nothing as I'll be in the cold, cold ground by then. Mind you, were my corpse able to talk I'm sure it would say "piss off. What's the meaning of coming to my grave just to ask about indiscriminate years? Bloody nuisance!"

Still, New Year's Eve! Just think, this time a year ago the earth had completed one less transit of the sun but, now as if by magic, it is back in the same arbitrary place in space as it was then, give or take the bit we have to make up with leap years. Momentous isn't the word for it. It's been a whole 2,014 years since somebody started a new calendar based on a miscalculation about the birth of our Jesus so obviously the only answer is to go mad, drink your own bodyweight in alcohol and join hands with strangers in an unusual manner whilst singing a Robert Burns poem whose lyrics you don't quite know. Those who had a bad time in 2013 can look forward to 365 days of unmitigated bliss in the coming year, because as we all know that's how life works, plus we get to make new year's resolutions as January 1 is officially the only day you can decide to stop eating so many biccy-wicks. My resolution is to be the first man to climb Mount Everest. I'm sure I'll manage it before those pesky Norwegians get there first.

So a guid new year to ae and aw. It's been probably the single most important year in history containing the numbers 2, 0, 1 and 3 (in that order) and we'll never ever forget it, barring the onset of Alzheimer's disease.

And now, because I demanded it, I will keep up my annual tradition by recording for posterity the 100 musical artists whose works I listened to most in this twelvemonth. Read it and weep. Though leave the weeping to the end as it will interfere badly with your vision.

Here it is )

It's over

Dec. 31st, 2012 08:54 pm
keresaspa: (Fletch)
Another random date in a calendar, therefore another apparent occasion. Had I been born a Jew, a Muslim, a Hindu, an Iranian or a Chinese man today would have little significance. When you think about it doesn't have any particular significance even in the Christian calendar as 2012 and 2013 are two fairly unimportant run of the mill years. 2012 had its up and downs but I'll sure as hell be glad not to hear the word Titanic or the phrases "our time, our place", "Diamond Jubilee" or "London Olympics" ever again. Still, I suppose tradition dictates that I must wish a happy new year to my millions and millions of fans out there in internetland.

And now in a further tradition that I started last year (and purely for my own amusement so you can slip out now) I shall record the top 100 musical artists that I listened to this year.

Fun, if you like that sort of thing! )
keresaspa: (Marlene Dietrich)
You live in a city that has had the hell bombed out of it. Things can't get much worse, right. Well, they could always bring in the people who designed Milton Keynes to rebuild it. I should say here and now that I've never set foot in MK and am merely judging it by what other people have told me. However given that what I have been told has been entirely derogatory I can't help but wonder whether this is simply another form of torture being dished out. Not only are we going to turn your country into a lawless hell-hole but we're going to fill it with new towns. If Fallujah is rebuilt as a new Craigavon then God help Iraq.

In my own little world, the postal strike in Belfast is over and I am finally starting to receive mail again. Yay! I finally got my DVD of Vic Reeves Big Night Out this morning. You lying get! At last a respite from the Hell of Quizmania and The Jeremy Kyle Show. God, I hate that Kyle show. Inarticulate chavs arguing about who the father of their ninth child is, with about seven candidates in the firing line. Plus, his insistence that he is somehow edgy when all he does is spout the usual cod psychology that all those sort of shows do is beyond irritating. And he does that trendy thing of wearing a pin-stripe jacket with jeans, that invariably makes the wearer look like a Victoria Beckham jessie. What happened to the good old days when a man on telly wore a suit? Add to that a bit of Spanish girl rock and a burst of the criminally overlooked Zuzu's Petals and the postman has been rather nice to me today. All is good in the undersea world of Keresaspa.

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