Defenestration: Have a Nice Fall!

A adoxography by an aeolist...

Recently I was teaching a lesson at an English learning centre - four local chinese kids, of about six years - when one of the little Abecedarians unintentionally planted a little seed of inspiration in my brain.
We were brainstorming words beginning with the letter B (ironically no one came up with the word brainstorm) and this little girl suggested Boogaloo. I laughed, and said something to the effect of 'don't be silly, that's a made up word!' but she was convinced it was a real word.
Recent Googling has revealed that Boogaloo is infact a real word.

Boogaloo or bugalú (also, shing-a-ling, Latin boogaloo, Latin R&B) is a genre of Latin music and dance that was popular in the United States in the 1960s. Boogaloo originated in New York City among teenage Cubans, Puerto Ricans and other groups. The style was a fusion of popular African American R&B and soul with mambo and son montuno.

I'm not entirely convinced that this is what the girl meant, but it is a valid word, nonetheless. I stand corrected. This trifling peccadillo got me thinking about all the other strange unused words are lurking in the dusty corners of dictionary.com...


Dictionary of Not Entirely Useless and Uniteresting Words

adoxography - Skilled writing on an unimportant subject

gossypiboma - A surgical sponge accidently left inside a patient's body

aeolist - A pompous windy bore who pretends to have inspiration

abecedarian - A person who is learning the alphabet

alphamegamia - The marriage between a young woman and an older man

autohagiographer - One who speaks or writes in a smug fashion about their own life and accomplishments

callipygean - Having well-shaped buttocks

estrapade - A horses's attempt to remove its rider

floccinaucinihilipilification - The categorising of something that is useless or trivial

hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian - Pertaining to extremely long words

gambrinous - Being full of beer

qualtagh - The first person you see after leaving your house

strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say to hell with it

tarantism - An urge to overcome melancholy by dancing

vigesimation - The act of killing every twentieth person

lethologica - The inability to recall a precise word for something

And finally, I give you...
My Top Five Obscure Unused Words Which I Believe Should be Reintroduced into Everyday Conversation

1. Wamfle – To walk around with flapping clothes.
I also think it implies an attitude (think 30-something boho-type single-because-I-want-to-be-NOT-because-I-can't-get-a-partner yoga teacher), but mostly I just like the sound of this word.

2. Coprolalomaniac – Someone who compulsively uses foul language.
I figured this one is pretty relevant to quite a few people I know (including myself to some extent).

3. Defenestrate - to throw someone out a window.
Apparently there was a time when this happened often enough to warrant making a word for it.

4. Rule-of-thumb - a principle with broad application that is not intended to be strictly accurate or reliable for every situation..
I realise this is a phrase, not a word, but the origins are interesting:
The 'rule of thumb' has been said to derive from the belief that English law allowed a man to beat his wife with a stick so long as it is was no thicker than his thumb.
I propose it should be reinstated for general use.

5. Solastalgia - distress or melancholy caused by a significant change to one's local environment. Whereas nostalgia is homesickness for a place, solastalgia is a yearning for the way a loved place used to be.
This is for all you boring old gits in Hong Kong who love to moan about how things used to be...


In closing, I hope you enjoyed my list. Try to use one of these words every day, and if you wish to hear some suggestions, just listen to the Mars Volta.

Kobe Beef Vs Kobe Bryant

Kobe Beef Vs Kobe Bryant
Unintentional meat sponsorship.

With Bryant and the Lakers effectively stealing the Thunder from Kevin Durant and team, it seems that Kobe Bryant has set his sights on a new opponent: the entire Japanese city of Kobe.

Kobe Bryant's father (nicknamed 'Jellybean') admits that he named his son after seeing the expensive and highly sought after Japanese beef on a menu in a restaurant.
Now, Bryant is suing the city of Kobe itself over naming rights to the beef. It seems he isn't too thrilled about the unintentional meat sponsorship, and I imagine the residents of Kobe aren't too happy either...

Kobe Beef Vs Kobe Bryant

Beef / / / / / / / / / / / Bryant

Beef raised in Japan / / / / / / Beef raised in America
Beefy goodness / / / / / / / / / Beef bus
BMS / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /NBA
Marbling / / / / / / / / / / / /Dribbling
470 kg of pure cow / / / / / / / 93 kg of pure skill
700 calories per slab / / / / / /28 points per game
Award winning beef / / / / / / / Award winning beef

Verdict: It's a close call, but this house believes that the name rightfully belongs to the residents of Kobe, Japan, and that Kobe Bryant should feel honoured to be named after such a delicious type of meat.

If, however, the results of the case happen to go the other way, the residents of Kobe shouldn't be too ashamed either. And besides, things could be worse - at least Paris Hilton didn't think of it first.

TRAVEL: Shenzhen

Shenzannigans
A voyage to the land of bargains, bags and blisters.

Shenzhen is somewhat less than glamorous; crowds of keen shoppers rushing about, trying to dodge the shopkeepers who insist that their bags are the best; the smell of deep fried street food mingling with that smell of cheap, plastic shoes; and outlets of Macdonalds and Starbucks littered between huge multi-storey shopping centres.

It may not be the premier holiday destination for hong kongers looking for a relaxing weekend away, but if you can handle crowds and pushy touts, Shenzhen is a paradise for bargain-seekers. You'll find things you never knew you needed, like 400GB data keys, wireless i-phone chargers and more Jimmy Choo bags than you can wave a stick at.

Beware the Warehouse

A word of warning for the newbies. These shopkeepers can smell a first-timer from a mile away. If you're looking for a leather handbag, you may be asked to go to their warehouse, where they have 'much more stock'. Obviously, don't go alone, and don't get split up from your friends because the 'lift is too full'. Honestly, the whole experience may feel pretty safe, but you can't be too careful.
Once you've walked a few blocks on your already tired feet (perhaps down a main road with no sidewalk), escorted by several shop assistants (aren't they nice and helpful... ho leng? oh, thank you!), you take the lift up to the warehouse (which may indeed turn out to be a 600sqft apartment with the exact same bags as every other shop you've just looked in). You're tired, it's late, you really need a new handbag, and you don't feel like walking all the way back to the shopping centre... the shopkeepers know this, and may (almost certainly) try to take advantage by over-charging you (for example, the 'last price' for a Jimmy Choo bag may be declared at $380, when just twenty minutes later you manage to buy the exact same bag for $100.)
Just remember; these people are not your 'friends', they're workers trying to make a living, so don't be blinded by flattery, be polite, and only pay what you think is fair to both parties.

Spa O'clock

After a long day of shopping, your feet are bound to be aching inside your brand-new so-pretty but-not-very-comfortable-or-practical $45 shoes. Shenzhen abounds with spas, so take your pick; but choose carefully. Queen Spa is regarded as one of the best, and frequented by many visitors. On first inspection, it seemed to be a giant people-factory, housing thousands of relaxed shoppers, who wandered around in matching pink and striped pajamas and flip-flops. Though initially it felt like we'd joined some strange faux-Buddhist pajama cult, we were definitely more the 'mass relaxation' sort than the 'mass suicide' sort. The free ice-cream, a complimentary fruit bar, and huge reclining chairs that you can hire by the hour, to watch films on your personal tv screen, or snore along with the 60 people who surround you; as a first-timer, this is a pretty surreal and not unpleasant experience.

On arrival, we spent about half an hour poring over the 'Consumption Menu', listing treatments, services and activities from swimming, body scrubs, massages, and Vichy showers to restaurants, majhong, pool and poker, not to mention public and private cinema screens.
There are five floors, some are communal and some are single sex. If you go with opposite sex friends, remember to agree a meeting place inside because the place is large enough to get lost in. Take a bathing suit for the pool, and a change of clothes to leave in your locker. As for treatments, the body scrub in invigorating, but we had to wait quite a long time to be seen, and the staff put on the pressure when it came to ticking the 'tips' column at the end of the scrub. Also, unless you want to be indecently propositioned, don't use the screens to choose your (heavily made-up, short-skirted) masseuse. The massage itself wasn't outstanding; my masseuse kept leaving the room during the first 15 minutes, and she told me to relax (as though the knots in my back were deliberate). After the 90 minutes, my aches felt somewhat aggravated rather than soothed, and she completely forgot to do my feet, but then again, I am a tricky customer when it comes to massages. Still, I'd prefer Warm Feeling house in LKF any day.

Rather than attempting to sleep amongst a crowd of strangers, we hired a four person VIP room, with fully-reclining chairs and individual TV screens. We ordered some food via the (very entertaining) multi-coloured 'call attendant' light. Our attendant told us we could order anything - though apparently this does not include french fries, - after waiting about 30 minutes, they came to tell us that they didn't have any after all.

We slept for about five hours, and then paid our dues and made our way back to the shopping centres for another twelve hours of bargains, bags and blisters. The verdict? A great budget get-away option, but be careful that you don't get carried away and spend more money than you intend to. It certainly feels less stressful if you're with an experienced Shenzhenner, especially one who speaks Mandarin. Definitely worth a visit, as long as you keep your wits about and your comfiest shoes close by.

Louis Vuitton

Louis Vuitton
A whole lot greater than the sum of it's parts?

A few days ago, a friend and I ventured into the Louis Vuitton store in central Hong Kong. Over the Easter break, he picked up a top grade fake Louis Vuitton Damier Ebene Canvas for the bargain price of HK$300, and he wanted to compare it to the real deal, which, at about HK$8000, is about 26 times more expensive.

On examining the two side by side, there seemed to be very little difference in quality (maybe the zips were slightly different), and almost no difference in style (the brass pieces had a slightly different finish) but I guess I'm just not fashion-savvy enough to see why these subtle differences add up over a months rent. Despite this, Louis Vuitton is the most bought fashion label in the world to this day.

Who is Watching the Watchers?

Whilst browsing the enormous, practically empty store, where over-eager staff outnumbered customers by about 5 to 1, we came across a rather flashy looking watch. A helpful assistant informed us that it had just arrived that day, and that price was something like $1.3 million Hong Kong dollars (I can't remember the exact price because the screams of horror and disbelief inside my own brain were somewhat distracting).

Now I realize that the sum of HK$1.3m might just be small change for some people, but let's just have a reality check and see what else that amount of change might buy you...

- A two bedroom, 550sqft apartment on Cheung Chau island.
- 185,714 ice cream sundaes from Mcdonalds.
- Lunch every day for 36 years.
- 590,909 cross-harbour trips on the star ferry (it'd take 809 years if you went twice a day)
- About 1100 bottles of Dom Perignon Vintage 2000.

In researching what to do with an impossibly large amount of money, I also came across the interest fact that LVMH (The umbrella company that owns Louis Vuitton) also owns Moet, Dom, Verve Clicquot, Krug, Hennessey, Belvedere Vodka, Givenchy, Marc Jacobs, Kenzo, DKNY, Dior, Tag Heuer and Fendi, to name but a few. A shiver runs down my anti-capitalist spine.

And I'm sure they donate to charity, but unless this watch folds out into a modest rural abode, or some sort of speedboat, or even a fully-staffed vineyard, I think it may be somewhat overpriced.

Disclaimer: This story is fictional; the views expressed are not representative of LV or any associated brands. The fact that LV takes counterfeiting seriously, employing a team of lawyers and agencies to actively pursue offenders (like Britney) worldwide, and allocates about half of its budget of communications to counteract piracy, is an unrelated fact. Have a nice day.

Global Warming

Islands in the Stream
How can we be wrong?

Global Warming. It's all over the news, and we're constantly being urged to sit up, listen and take action before 'the situation' gets worse.

But what exactly is the situation? In 2007–2008, The Gallup Polls surveyed 127 countries and found that over a third of the world's population was unaware of Global Warming. Whilst Europe was debating the appropriate response to Warming, the United States debated whether climate change was even happening.

It's all too easy to ignore or misunderstand the problem, based on misinformation (it's getting colder in the UK, right?), a lack of proof and evidence, and the general fact that nothing appears to be changing in our everyday lives as a result to this 'global emergency'. It's like we are being asked to take pills for a disease we have no symptoms of. Sort of like chlamydia.

We ask, is it really a problem? And, how can we be sure it even exists? Let's be honest; half of us reckon it's probably just some over-hyped conspiracy theory perpetuated by a bunch of tree-hugging eco-warriors high on Kopi Luwak, right? Well, not quite. Forget the foggy predicitons and inconclusive evidence, and let's take a look at what is really happening as a result of rising sea levels.


If you're planning a trip to check out the mangroves on the beautiful New Moore Island between India and Bangladesh, you might be surprised at what you see. It simply isn't there anymore - it has disappeared beneath the waves. Fancy a trip to the exotic Lohachara island instead? The 6000 people who used to live here might too, but unfortunately their home land has been drowned. These are two of four islands which have vanished in India's part of the delta in the past two decades, also including Bedford (or Suparibhanga) and Kabasgad.
In Kiribati, the ocean is rapidly reclaiming the island of Tepuka Savilivili. In the summer of 2008, Kiribati officials asked Australia and New Zealand to accept Kiribati citizens as permanent refugees. Kiribati is expected to be the first country in which all land territory disappears due to global climate change. In June 2008, the Kiribati president Anote Tong explained that climate change for Kiribati is "not an issue of economic growth, it's an issue of human survival". A similar story tells how the inhabitants of the Carteret Islands in Papua New Guinea were forced to relocate to the higher island of Bougainville due to rising sea levels.

Islands have actually disappeared due to rising sea levels. True, New Moore Island never reached 2 meters above sea level, but some parts of lower Manhattan only reach 1.5 meters above the sea level.


How can we be sure that these disappearing islands are a result of Global Warming? Where is the proof? Unfortunately, the only cold hard evidence you're likely to get is the fish swimming around your ankles when you're collecting your pension a few decades from now, and by the time this evidence comes through, it will indeed be too late. If it turns out that Global Warming is just a conspiracy theory after all, we'll certainly look very silly for having bought into this hippy-theory - but if we're right, and we do something about it now - there is at least a chance we won't be donning scuba gear to swim to the office every morning.

The Hong Kong Rugby 7's 2010

The Hong Kong Rugby 7's 2010
A sceptic joins the scrum...

Even if the appeal of sitting amongst a crowd of angry, drunk men and shouting at some people who are too far away to hear you isn't immediately obvious, it's hard not to be swept up with the excitement and energy of the 35,000 strong crowd that lines Hong Kong Stadium on Rugby 7's weekend.

The costumes were generally more surprising than the results on Saturday, with the big exception being our home team Hong Kongs' win against Wales. Hong Kong defeated Wales with a score of 19 - 21, and went on to secure the Sheild for the first time ever after beating Korea and Italy, much to the delight of the crowd - the boo's boomed across the stadium each time Italy scored, and the enormous cheers were surprising, suggesting a sense of patriotism that Hong Kong is often accused of lacking.

A definite star of the show was the talented Keith Robertson for Hong Kong, whose energy and speed thrilled the crowd down to the last minute when Russia made a last attempt to catch up, eventually falling two points short as the ball went out and the game ended.
Kurt Baker of the All Blacks was thrilling to watch, leading the New Zealand team in scoring 4 tries in their semi-final win over Fiji, and 2 tries in their Cup finals loss to Samoa.

On a more personally disappointing note, Canada surged forward against Wales, who seemed to loose heart as Canada took three converted tries in the first four minutes. Wales finished as runner up for the Bowl, and had to be hurried up publicly over the loud-speaker ('Wales, we're waiting for you') after the game. We were waiting for you too - where the hell were you guys?! I felt like the lone Welsh-girl amongst a sea of Canadians, and I even heard a girl near to me say "Wales? I didn't know Wales was big enough to have a team", before clamping her hand over her mouth as I shot her a frosty glance.

So although the Rugby 7's are often associated with hordes of drunken, pink-wigged tourist vomiting 7 pitchers worth of pimms across our streets, there is thankfully much more to the weekend than this. The Rugby 7's is possibly the biggest sporting event on Hong Kong's calendar, and it draws a crowd from all over the world - the universal camaraderie, the mexican waves, and even the streakers (especially the guy who managed to climb the post, and then elude the security staff with impeccable comic timing) provide a not unwelcome interlude between the short, sharp and spectacular games of what Bill McLaren deems "the Olympic games of Rugby Union".


Kim Haslam is a journalist and converted sceptic who is already planning to attend the 2011 Rugby 7's wearing only a Welsh flag.

The Theatre of Abuse

Apologies for the previous entry (actual vomit followed by verbal vomit). I'm feeling much better now.

The Theatre of Abuse
My set, my set, my actors for a set...

From the 25th - 28th March, the Hong Kong Arts Festival brings us Oscar-winner Sam Mendes (American Beauty), directing 'a formidable transatlantic company of actors in William Shakespeare's The Tempest.' The advertising campaigns for this production are capitalizing on the fact that it belongs to Sam Mendes. Sure, I see the marketing point they're making use of - big name, big money - but the idea of the 'celebrity director' strikes fear into my theatrical core.

As Steven Berkoff (noted British actor, writer and director) talked about in his recent workshop, theatre should always be about the actors, first and foremost. The director, the props, the set, the curtains, the lights - these things are all secondary in importance. The actors are the core, the beginning and the end of all that happens in the empty space. Berkoff himself proves this in his recent performance of On The Waterfront, which he performed in and directed. The actors were not weighed down with pointless props - only a few chairs and tables were used, and perhaps a gun or two. Everything that wasn't totally essential was mimed - stacks of cash, pint glasses, a saloon bar, an open fire to warm their hands over - none of these things had a physical presence. The changes of scene were suggested with light, with mime and with the changes in energy that the actors brought to the stage. They transported us in a single beat from a roof-top with caged pigeons to the docks to a dark alley at night, and it was beautiful, clean and free from pointless props and clunky set pieces. Once these hindrances are removed, what do we have left? We have the voice, and the body of the actor, and little else to use, or rather, misuse. We have tone, and movement, and gesture, distilled and pure, with no prop or set piece to distract us or hide behind. Isn't this what theatre is really about?

From the audiences point of view, who wants to sit in a black-out for thirty seconds while badly disguised stage-crew wander around swapping sofas and beds and benches in the half light, and we look away awkwardly? The brilliant illusion of reality that the actors have worked to create and transport you to is crushed in this moment.

I am not accusing Sam Mendes of anything clunky and hindered, in fact I suspect it will be an excellent performance. I simply want to say 'beware the celebrity director'. It is a dangerous cult that allows the little man who thinks that, because he has created a little world and controls the people in it, he is some sort of God, and therefore he can use those people as puppets, to ferry superfluous props around onstage, and wait in the wings for a table to be exchanged for another table.


Theatre without Theatricality

Berkoff also talked at length about the state of British Theatre over recent decades, and sadly I recognized much of what he said.

There is a vein of British audience which seeks a theatre without theatricality. That is, people have become afraid, as we are in real life (in that repressed, Victorian-hangover sort of way) of big displays of intense emotion. We shunned it, we felt uncomfortable, we called it fake, and we pointed the blame at the Americans. In fact, we were right - real theatre had left our fair isle and, as Berkoff suggested, the American writers were creating the real theatre.

As I see it, our repressed theatre-goers were then exposed to the 'in-yer-face' theatre of the mid-90's. We borrowed this term from the Americans to describe this new, shocking movement, which was a reaction to the sterility that preceded it. Interestingly, the origins of this movement can be found in the theories of Antonin Artaud, whom Berkoff mentioned and praised repeatedly during his workshop.
So, we subject our reserved, repressed audience of little social plays to confrontation, violence, and the brashness of Sarah Kane, Mark Ravenhill and Anthony Neilson. The result is strange.
We are left with an audience now comfortable with certain types of theatricality. Terrible, brutal physical violence? Yes, non-provocative nudity? No. Domestic abuse? Sure. Spitting in your lovers face? Yeah. Gang violence? No problem! Calling your mum the C word? Why not. But what about devotion to another person, what about sacrifice, and what about those dramatic, poetic Shakespearean love scenes? These can be just as brutal, just as heart-wrenching and explosive as using dirty words and spittle. Heck, Shakespearean actors were spitting all over each other before Alice in Closer was a glint in Patrick Marbers' parker pen!
Yet, these 'classical' extremes we shy away from. We confine them to opera, because that is what opera has become to us - a spectacle, a place for a shrill soprano to lose her mind as hoarse old men shout Bravo! and quaff champagne.

In this, the age of the screen and the celebrity - where attendance to real theatres is boosted by having a soap-opera celebrity star in Sondheim - we try to play these emotions to the cinema screen. But theatre is not about that! Micro-gestures are lost on all but the actor two paces away from you, ends of lines are lost when we whisper - as if overcome by some big emotion that we try to keep inside, that we bravely push down inside us. But remember - even real tears can only be seen by the first two rows. Theatre is not about subtlety. It is not about being 'realistic'. And audiences are perfectly capable of 'suspending disbelief' IF the actors give a good performance, so to try to explain every little inconsistency that happens is madness - it is method acting gone mad. A great director once told me that prior to a scene in a play, a British actor was seen running around backstage. An American actor asked him, what are you doing? And he explained that he was about to enter as a page-boy or some such, and was to be exhausted from rushing there. The American actor replied 'or, you could just 'act' exhausted...'

According to Variety, "This is a beautifully spoken production, every word clear as a bell”. This, and other things, make me sure that Sam Mendes' production will be wonderful, not a clunky clumsy clogged-up facade, not a repressed, robotic echo of a spectacle, of an historical artifact. This quote gets to the root of the issue of what theatre should be, for me: clean and clear, both in word and emotion, and beautifully poetic.

Right On The Money

So, food-poisoning and neon green vomit are scary/nasty/disgusting. I'm still not feeling quite right after a bout of gastro. That's right, 'woe is me' and all that. On the subject of cliches, what about 'have wheels... will travel'. What about 'have wheels... but can't travel due to being stranded on a tiny over-populated island and having no cash?' Yeah. No road trips for us here in Hong Kong. Not unless that road trip involves an aircraft... doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

So, first and foremost, it's time to cut to the chase, so to speak, and quit crying all the way to the bank... in fact, quit while you're ahead. When there's slim pickings, perhaps it's time to eat your heart out instead instead of wining and dining. That is, watch the wallet, and drink nothing but all the tea in China in order to save some shiny new dimes, because there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and every cloud has a silver lining. So, let the good times roll! We can 'pay as you go' for a change of scene, because time is money, and money is the root of all evil, and in a jiffy we'll be higher than a kite on the way to some far-off place (if the price is right) and this'll all be just a bad dream.

Chat Roulette

CHAT ROULETTE
Show and Tell for the I Generation

Across the globe, strangers are meeting for the first time from the comfort of bedrooms, classrooms, bathrooms and just about anywhere else you could possibly take a computer: Chat Roulette is quickly becoming the latest greatest internet phenomenon. You'll come face to face with everything from sock puppet psychiatry, people in fancy dress, guys jacking off, college students taking delight in saying 'BUM' to strangers, drunk people smoking hooka pipes, people playing instruments, a whole array of sinage ('show boobs' seems popular), Norwegian choristers singing in eight part harmony, to your garden variety exhibitionists - the one thing you can be sure of is that you will see things you'd rather not and things you never quite imagined.

Here's how it works: click “start” and your webcam turns on, connecting you to a video chat with another person at random. It's annonymus and unrecorded, so you never quite know who or what you're going to get. Chat Roulette is like YouTube gone wild; unregistered users blindly connecting to other users may seem intriguing to many, but for all those strange weirdos creeping around the internet, it's a freaks paradise. It's like 'Show and Tell' for Generation I, only instead of bringing your pet guinea pig to school, you're showing your wang to unsuspecting strangers halfway across the world.

Looking at the facts, I'd say it's a safe bet that you're on a one-way trip to Worldwide Wang Fest 2010. OK, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here, since I've only actually used this programme once. There were four of us sitting in a friends lounge, and the conversion went like this...

Stranger: Hi
Stranger: I can see your boobs
You: That's my shoulder, genius.

Not particularly inspiring, but maybe I've been too quick to judge? Enough of the speculation, it's time to do a little experiment.

It was a Thursday morning when I sat down with a cup of coffee and a notebook, ready to connect with precisely 20 people in the name of random sample research. As I connect, I am told that 20,000 people are online. Firstly, who the hell are all you people? You're sitting alone at home, and you want to talk to strangers, so either you're a wanna-be internet journalist blog-superstar doing your research (like me), a bored Psychology student who makes a hobby out of social experiments (like me), or you're simply Very Weird (like... not me).

Turns out, my second meeting (the first one being a penis, of course) was with a person who was infact a Psychology student. We chatted idly for a while, about school and pens and where we were from, until I told him I was doing research for an article. Then this...

Stranger: Well I've been spreading a message on CR. I've left it up for days and mmmmmany people have seen it. What do you think? I saw too many penises... and didn't really want my finace' or sister or mother to have the same experience.


Stranger: I think what shocks people is they are expecting a religious nut to be behind the sign.

Yes, it would certainly seem that way. A little stange, but also heartening that there are people out there with more noble aspirations than sharing their body parts.

My fourth encounter (the third one being another penis) was with a black square. When I confessed my purpose for being there, he told me this...

Stranger: actually i have a story. i've been trying to find out how to post it. i saw someone that hung themselves last night.

He said he would send me some pictures, but I declined. It was probably a hoax, or not... either way I didn't want to see. Instead, I disconnected, and continued filling up my columns to reach stranger number 20. The cam focused and... it was a penis. My final stranger was another penis. I pressed next, thought I knew that I'd already reached my target number. I waited for the next random stranger to appear, determined to prove that there was something more interesting than disembodied penises floating around.

Stranger number 21 had no camera. After a few lines of chat, I discovered that they were in school. What, right now, you're in school? Yes, in high school. OK, I'd seen enough. Point proven, there was something else out there, and it's your kid sister, looking a 19,000 disembodied penises. Ew.

So, my findings were these; out of a random sample of 21 strangers, I encountered 4 actual penises, 2 suspicious looking crotch shots, 2 indecent requests, 2 certifiably normal conversations, 1 suicide hoax, 1 underage user, 1 sign, and sadly, no people in fancy dress. As for the 'Roulette' part, I fared pretty well, with 8 disconnects, thought admittedly I did find myself feeling somewhat offended each time, and sort of wished I'd at least put some make-up on first. I could imagine that 20 disconnects could leave a person feeling like the spotty, geeky kid in high school that no one wants to talk to, and by the end of my experiment I was glad to be back in the real world where people are more covert about their judgments of others.

Conclusions? Firstly, chaos reigns on Chat Roulette. The medium of self-publishing has hit a new low, making it easier than ever for Pedophiles to connect with youngsters. All the more reason to monitor you kids' internet access.
The concept itself is nothing new; web cams and chat programmes have been around for years, but many users now opt for facebook and MSN instead. Why? Well, it weeds out the weirdos and allows you complete control over who you connect with. Yet, there is something strangely addictive about the Chat Roulette phenomenon. It's sort of like waving at a stranger on a passing boat. We're compelled to do it, but we're not sure why. We wouldn't do it to someone we didn't know in the street, yet there seems to be some worldwide desire for anonymous social interaction.
Statistically speaking, my results suggest that the majority of people are actually NOT just trying to satisfy some voyeuristic urge to exhibit their naked organs. Quel surprise! Maybe Ideological Religious Psychology Guy was right. Maybe Chat Roulette is a great opportunity to chat to people from many cultures, across the world, sharing our news, views and simulated high-fives. Some people want to broaden their minds and interact with people from other cultures, whilst others merely aspire to bare their privates in front of strangers. Such is life.

Will it stick around? Sure it will, but whether it will become a marvelous tool for a meeting of the minds or simply a global cockfest remains to be seen.


Kim Haslam




INTERESTING CHAT ROULETTE QUOTES

Stranger: Well... we just got on here because we were pretty fucked up. the majority is strange guys stroking their peepees. but there have been a few cross-cultaral moments like we are having currently. i have enjoyed it so far and really hope to see more vagina

Stranger: i talked to a gingerbread man

Stranger: yeah, it's a great opportunity...if it doesn't become the red light district of the Internet.

Stranger: Tell me you are drawing me a picture.

Stranger: i didnt think girls existed on here. 30 min and nothing but dudes jackin it

Stranger: im trying to find celebrities, my friend talked to the jonas brothers and snoop dog lol

Stranger: the internet has fallen into ruin.

Stranger: i think i just have a general misanthropic attitude towards people on the internet

Stranger: i WISH fetlife was all just a dream, i could sleep at night easily.

Stranger: your in a cafe and not getting coffee? thats like punching jesus in the face!

Stranger: Hong Kong! No way! My room mate is Japanese! Wait... you're lying, you don't look Japanese.

Frankie Says RELAX

So yesterday, I was thinking about pregnant women. Or rather, the people who treat those women like they're disabled. I heard a guy reprimanding his wife over the phone for being out so late (it was 6.30pm), in the same tone you might use towards a child who insisted on repeatedly hiding your car keys.... "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times!". He then got quite animated, almost angry, and started shouting "Will you just RELAX! Go home, RELAX! If you can't relax, then how the HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO RELAX?!?!" Personally, I've found that shouting RELAX at un-relaxed people isn't particularly conducive to... well, anything. I guess there's two sides to this story - namely, the women who act like they're carrying a super-sensitive touch-activated body-cavity bomb rather than a child. Well, maybe someone should organize a speed-dating event for men who shout RELAX with self-pitying pregnant women who find a man shouting RELAX at them, RELAXING.

Touch Wood

I spent the day contemplating my weaknesses and driving around in a golf buggy. It was a beautiful day out at Kau Sai Chau, and most of my problems come down to some some inexplicable knotty ball of mystery deep inside my soul.

Back to golf. I glanced over a back issue of Golf Digest, namely the rather untimely article titled "10 Tips Obama can take from Tiger". Actually, I think the timing was rather fortunate, for said magazine - don't you want to read that article already? Well you should, it's hilarious:

"One of the major lessons that President Obama could learn from Woods is his ability to quickly recover under pressure after a bad hole or two under pressure, writes prominent golf star Arnold Palmer." (Link.)

Ha, hahaha. Pun intended.

On the subject of the real news about Tiger Woods, I say this: leave the guy alone. Plenty of people cheat, and if you're gonna put someone on a pedestal, then don't be so surprised if they fall. And if his wife really did club him, then good for her.

Blog vs Dog

Let's hope that blogs and dogs don't react in the same way to abandonment. I abandoned this here blog for quite some time, and now I'm saying sorry, please forgive me, come back to me, listen to me and publish me over the internet for millions to read (ok, maybe not millions, and my dog certainly wouldn't be capable of doing that either, unless it could talk or something, the novelty value of which would make me a youtube celebrity overnight, and then maybe people would realize what I great writer I am, sort of like the opposite of creating a diversion... creating a conversion? No, that ain't right).

I digress.


ABANDONMENT:
BLOG VS DOG

BLOG ///// DOG
Empty ///// Full of rage and anxiety
Unvisited ///// Have to see it everyday
Forgiving ///// Bites at most opportunities
Previous posts remembered ///// Previous love forgotten, replaced by poo


To summarize, I'm back, I promise I won't leave again.