I’m going out tonight, which means I wanted to be home quick (I’m just doing dinner now), but got out of work late [moan #1].  When I got to the bike rack the pump was missing from the downtube of my bike, it was definitely there this morning [moan #2].  Fortunately I was actually later getting out of work than the normal late getting out meaning all the Stagecoach double deckers from the regional college had gone (I saw the last one ahead of me), rather than taking it in turns to overtake me.  I’m not fond of playing piggy in the middle with four busses.

The short stretch of cyclepath that I actually use to get out of the Science Park, which is segregated, had numptyman walking at me while looking at his mobile phone and not reacting to me at all [moan #3].  I don’t know how these people survive!  Numptyman’s mate – hood, earphones, unaware of the world – was at the Milton Road crossing, stood there waiting without having pressed the button.  He then just wandered in to the road when it was quietish and miraculously stopped in the middle while a van went past the end of his nose [moan #4].  I don’t know how these people survive.

In Milton I got caught behind a learner driver, they kept changing between 15 and 25 mph.  If it wasn’t for traffic coming the other way I’d have overtaken them, as it was I just took longer to get through milton than normal [moan #5].

In Waterbeach some idiot overtook me just before the blind corner on the way out to the station and had to slam the brakes on because there was a queue around the corner.  So I had to slam the brakes on because they were in the space I would have been slowing down in [moan #6], and it left me in too high a gear to set off quickly.  Then the barriers were down at the level crossing, so another queue [moan #7].  Then I got a rattley Ford Ka that kept trying to pass me but couldn’t quite get out before there was oncoming traffic again [moan #8].

Oh, and SportsTracker crapped out this morning so I have no workout recorded [moan #9].  And once I’ve eaten I’m going to cycle back in to town during the rush hour [possible moan #10].  There, got it all off my chest.

…And I swapped from the Tricross to the Bolinas this morning, which means I spent the whole journey thinking the tyres were spongy (always happens when I swap that way, 23mm to 2″).  So [moan #11].  Whoo, I’m grumpy tonight.

Ecco gli ascolti, basati sui dati forniti quotidianamente da Auditel, dei programmi di prima serata di ieri, e a seguire una guida sintetica ai programmi in onda sui canali in chiaro di questa sera, mercoledì 25 novembre 2009. Per maggiori informazioni sulla programmazione televisiva visitate le sezioni Telefilm News, Cartoon News, Sat News e Dig News, per esprimere la vostra opinione utilizzate la sezione settimanale TelePagelle.

MARTEDI’ 24 NOVEMBRE 2009

IERI SERA… Sopra i 5 milioni di spettatori la prima visione del film commedia di Canale 5 “Sapori e dissapori” con Catherine Zeta-Jones e Aaron Eckhart; circa 4,6 milioni, invece, per la replica della fiction di RaiUno “Giuseppe Moscati” con Beppe Fiorello. Poco meno di 4 milioni per il programma di RaiTre “Ballarò” con Giovanni Floris, 2,6 milioni per il doppio episodio inedito della sesta stagione della serie poliziesca di RaiDue “Senza traccia” con Anthony LaPaglia, 2,4 milioni per la replica dell’action-comedy di Italia 1 “Rush Hour – Due mine vaganti” con Jackie Chan e Chris Tucker; disastroso esito per la replica del film TV thriller di Rete 4 “Il mistero del lago” con Lorenzo Flaherty; infine, il programma documentaristico di La 7 “Impero” con Valerio Massimo Manfredi ha avuto 567.000 spettatori (2,14%). Ottimi ascolti per i canali sportivi pay, che ieri sera proponevano gli incontri di calcio di Champions League che hanno visto la Fiorentina battere il Lione per 1-0 e qualificarsi agli ottavi di finale, e l’Inter perdere clamorosamente per 2-0 a Barcellona.

LA PRIMA SERATA (ore 20.30/22.30)

	PUBBLICO	SHARE %
	5.220.000	18,63
	2.610.000	9,32
	3.587.000	12,80
	296.000	1,06
	11.712.000	41,81
	5.548.000	19,80
	2.144.000	7,65
	1.696.000	6,05
	294.000	1,05
	9.682.000	34,56
	648.000	2,31
Altri canali terrestri	2.877.000	10,27
Canali satellitari	3.095.000	11,05
TOTALE	28.014.000	100,00

A seguire alcune segnalazioni sugli ascolti disponibili della prima serata di ieri, e per concludere una guida alla TV di questa sera sui principali canali in chiaro.

I CANALI RAI E MEDIASET

• Alle 20.41 il gioco “Affari tuoi” (5.815.000 spettatori – 20,46%). Alle 21.13 le due parti del film TV biografico “Giuseppe Moscati” (4.683.000 spettatori – 18,41%).
• Alle 21.04 gli episodi 11-12 della sesta stagione inedita della serie poliziesca Senza traccia : il primo episodio “Appartamento G4″ ha totalizzato 2.649.000 spettatori (9,20%), il secondo episodio “Articolo 32″ (ore 21.48) ha ottenuto 2.664.000 spettatori (9,76%). Alle 22.34 l’episodio inedito 19 “Cocktail letale” della serie giudiziaria Law & Order – I due volti della giustizia (1.754.000 spettatori – 7,70%).
• Alle 20.35 l’episodio 2.902 della soap opera “Un posto al sole” (2.565.000 spettatori – 9,15%). Alle 21.11 la decima puntata del programma “Ballarò” (3.926.000 spettatori – 15,15%).
• Alle 20.47 il varietà “Striscia la notizia” (6.610.000 spettatori – 23,10%). Alle 21.17 il film commedia “Sapori e dissapori” (5.069.000 spettatori – 19,50%).
• Alle 20.04 l’episodio 7 “Maxi Homer” della settima stagione della serie animata “I Simpson” (2.005.000 spettatori – 7,91%). Alle 20.32 il gioco “Prendere o lasciare” (1.929.000 spettatori – 6,84%). Alle 21.18 il film d’azione “Rush Hour – Due mine vaganti” (2.415.000 spettatori – 9,13%). Alle 23.15 il programma “Speciale Mistero” (1.247.000 spettatori – 7,78%).
• Alle 19.44 la soap tedesca “Tempesta d’amore” (2.107.000 spettatori – 8,70%). Alle 20.30 l’episodio 4 “L’angelo vendicatore” della nona stagione del telefilm Walker, Texas Ranger (2.495.000 spettatori – 8,89%). Alle 21.13 il film TV thriller “Il mistero del lago” (1.170.000 spettatori – 4,36%).

MERCOLEDI’ 25 NOVEMBRE 2009

Sono elencati principalmente i programmi di prima serata. Gli orari e i titoli indicati possono variare senza preavviso.

CANALI IN CHIARO

• Alle 20.45 la diretta dell’incontro di calcio Milan – Olympique Marsiglia valido per la quinta giornata del Gruppo C di Champions League.
• Alle 21.05 il talent show musicale “X Factor” con Francesco Facchinetti – puntata 12 “Semifinale”. Alle 00.30 il varietà “Scorie” con Elena Di Cioccio – puntata conclusiva 11.
• Alle 21.10 la serie italiana “La nuova Squadra” con Rolando Ravello e Gennaro Silvestro – episodi conclusivi di stagione 2×21-22.
• Alle 21.10 il film thriller “The Others” (2001), con Nicole Kidman. Alle 22.50 la serie drammatica Crash con Dennis Hopper e Moran Atias – episodio 1×08. Alle 23.40 la serie Weeds con Mary-Louise Parker e Elizabeth Perkins – episodi 2×05-06.
• Alle 21.10 il varietà “Chi ha incastrato Peter Pan?” con Paolo Bonolis e Luca Laurenti – puntata conclusiva 8.
• Alle 21.10 la serie poliziesca C.S.I.: Miami con David Caruso e Emily Procter – episodio 7×11. Alle 22.05 la serie poliziesca The Mentalist con Simon Baker e Robin Tunney –  episodio 1×17. Alle 23.05 la serie Californication con David Duchovny e Natasha McElhone –  episodio 2×08.
• Alle 21.10 il programma “Vite straordinarie” con Elena Guarnieri – puntata “Al Bano”. Alle 23.25 il film thriller “Fragile” (2005), con Calista Flockhart e Richard Roxburgh.
• Alle 21.00 il film di guerra “Tigerland” (2000), con Colin Farrell e Matthew Davis. Alle 22.40 il film horror “Grindhouse – Planet Terror” (2007), con Rose McGowan e Marley Shelton.
• Alle 21.10 il talk-show “Exit – Uscita di sicurezza” con Ilaria D’Amico – puntata 7.
• Alle 21.00 la serie La vita segreta di una teenager americana con Shailene Woodley e Kenny Baumann – episodio 1×12. Alle 22.00 il docu-reality “16 and Pregnant” – puntata 1.
• Alle 20.00 una rotazione di video musicali. Alle 22.00 la replica del varietà “Deejay chiama Italia” con Linus e Nicola Savino.
• Alle 21.00 la telenovela per ragazzi “Flor – Speciale come te” con Florencia Bertotti e Ángeles Balbiani. Alle 21.50 la serie animata “Il laboratorio di Dexter”.
• Alle 21.05 la serie animata “Atomic Betty” – episodio 1. Alle 21.25 la serie animata “Wolverine and the X-Men” – episodio 16.
• Alle 20.50 il varietà “Takeshi’s Castle” commentato da Lillo e Greg – tre puntate.

I SIMBOLI USATI
L’indicazione tipo 1×02 segnala il 2° episodio della 1^ stagione.
= film o film TV.
= telefilm (serie/sit-com) straniero.
= telefilm o sceneggiato di produzione italiana, o miniserie straniera.
= soap opera o telenovela.
= cartone animato.
= programma sportivo.
= prima visione sui canali non a pagamento.
= variazione rispetto al programma previsto.
comprende Rai 4, Rai Gulp, Rai Storia, Rai Sport Più, Rai News 24, Rai Edu1 ed i canali RaiSat.

Most nights on my way home from work I ride down the ramp on Horningsea Road from the A14 bridge in to Fen Ditton.  The bridge, and both it’s ramps have a little hard shoulder on them.  Most cyclists I see, including myself, use this as if it were a cycle lane.  We cyclists realise we’re going to be slower than normal getting up the ramps and so move out of the way when possible.  Annoyingly, not being proper cycle lanes, both hard shoulders taper off at the ends making merging in to traffic difficult (even dangerous).  Heading in to Fen Ditton is worse than going the other way as the is a ‘traffic calming chicane’ immediately after a traffic island, meaning I have to move in to the traffic on the right at exactly the point that it has just moved closer to the left.  So normally I try to move out of the hard shoulder before I reach the island, but drivers (presumably) seeing me looking over my shoulder hang on behind me expecting me to move.  The problem is they hang on too close behind me.  They are probably being annoyed that I look like I’m going to pull out in front of them and they’re waiting while I do nothing, but I’m generally going down the ramp at 20mph and they’re only 2 or 3 metres behind me.  I know that at this speed their stopping distance is about four times the distance they’ve given me, so I’m not going to move out.  Plus, I would like to signal before moving out but when there is a car hanging that close behind me I worry for my arms.

The council are planning to put a cycle path along side the road on this bridge which should make it easier, but it will be on the wrong side of the road for me so I’ll have to stop and cross the road twice to use it.  I’m happy for them to put the path in, but I’d be happier when the council (and others) realised that chicanes don’t slow traffic down but they do make it more dangerous for cyclists.

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Anyone who has lived for any length of time in Japan and knows a little bit of the language and culture knows the word chikan. The meaning of this word is a molester, but basically refers to a male who is prone to be a Peeping Tom, stealing woman’s underwear from their clothes lines, or even groping woman on the trains, catching a quick feel here and there, or pressing themselves into females. In other words, a pervert!

You can sometimes spot chikan ogling young school girls in their sailor uniforms. A brave woman or girl being molested or felt up on a train might blurt out, “chikan!” to warn others of his presence and have him taken down by bystanders and arrested at the next train stop.

The female counterpart of chikan is “chijo” and basically has the same meaning, and yes there are some chijo in Japan, but they are rare or hardly reported to the police. I mean what hot blooded male, in his right mind, would report that he was felt up by a woman on a train or other location other than to let all his friends know about it? I know I wouldn’t and I didn’t report it when it happened to me.

Yes, I was groped, or molested, or whatever you want to call it on a train by a female when I was a college student in Japan. I was shocked and awed at what happened, but I didn’t feel I was molested. No way, no how! In fact, after I got over the initial shock, I kind of enjoyed it and let her “take advantage” of me so to speak. Or at least, after I understood just what the hell was going on, let her “have her way with me.” This is the story of that one and only experience I ever had with a chijo on a public train in Japan.

I was on my way back home from university during rush hour and I didn’t feel like waiting the 20 or so minutes for the third express train at the platform in Shinjuku in order to ensure that I got a seat on the train that originated from there. I wanted to get home so I took my place in line for the next express train. I was ninth in the double line, so I knew I would not be getting a seat.

When the train arrived and all the people emptied out the left side of the train, the doors on the right side opened and everyone near the front scrambled for a seat. People are so desperate for a seat, especially after waiting 20 minutes, that they practically knock each other out of the way! Since I was so far back in the line I couldn’t get my favorite standing spot next to the door and was stuck standing near the door in the middle of the aisle. The train was crowded, but not very. I knew it would get worse at the next two express stops.

As usual, the crowd at the first express stop at this time of the evening was large and the people were packed into the train. I mean we were so packed in that I didn’t have to hold on to anything as the throng of people and the closeness of our bodies would keep me from losing my balance. That’s how close we were. It was so crowded that I hardly had any room to fold my magazine in quarters to read it.

As the train pulled out of the station all the people kind of moved backwards with the forward momentum of the train. One woman who had her back to me leaned into me with her butt and back. As the train gained speed and we were able to stand I kind of backed away from her an inch or so as I didn’t want her to think I was pressing into her or anything that may make her yell, “chikan!” and get me arrested or something.

It was about an five minute ride to the next express stop so I just got as comfortable as I could and began to read my magazine. To my astonishment the same woman in front of me moved back a little and placed her butt ever so lightly squarely into my crotch. I was startled and moved backward maybe a centimeter or so as there was virtually no room for me to move back much. I no sooner did that than she did it again. At first I thought it was an accident and, as there was no more room for me to move back without my pressing my butt into some guys crotch, I kind of arched my hips back a bit so my crotch wouldn’t be touching her butt. I no sooner did that than, again, she moved her butt against my crotch for a second time. Now I knew this was no accident. She was doing it on purpose.

I had heard that there were women, chijo, who sometimes did this on the train, but I had never personally experienced it myself in seven years of living there. I had heard that they did things similar to what chikan do, and I had even heard secondhand stories about how they would even grab a man’s crotch or massage his butt. Now I was experiencing it for the first time. Call me crazy, but I am a male and I was not about to let this experience with a chijo pass me by. If she was pitching, I was catching.

As she continued to press her butt into my crotch, I straightened up and, ever so lightly, proceeded to press my crotch back against her butt. The harder I pressed, the harder she pressed back and the harder I got! I remember thinking to myself, this is no accident. She’s actually encouraging this! So I pressed against her all the more. I shyly glanced around to make sure no one was looking at us, but it was really too crowded for anyone to really notice as we so packed together.

Throughout the entire ride to the next stop we pressed against each other so much it was as if we were making love. In a way we were making love. She continued pressing her butt ever so slowly against my crotch in a circular motion, side to side, and then up and down a little. I couldn’t believe how aroused I had become and I responded in kind. All the while she had her head down pretending to read a book she had in her hands.

I never once saw her face, but I guessed she was in her 20’s. She had long black hair and was wearing what seemed to be a business suit. I could smell the hint of a nice perfume and the nice fragrance of her long shiny black hair. The top of her head came up to about my chin and we played our little “love making” game until the train pulled into the next station; her pressing against me and me responding in kind. I was so hard I couldn’t believe it. I thoroughly enjoyed her pressing her soft round butt against my rock hard crotch and enjoyed every minute of it. Any minute now and I knew I would have an orgasm.

As the train pulled into the third express stop and the doors opened, she abruptly got off much to my dismay. I tried as best I could to get a look at her, but she had her head turned completely away from me, (probably on purpose) and I never even got a sideways glance at her face as she blended in with, and disappeared into the crowd. If she was beautiful I never knew, but I like to imagine she was as beautiful as my wildest fantasy.

As quite a few people got off at this station there was now room for me to stand in relative comfort and I took my usual place against the door for the remaining 20 minutes or so ride home. For obvious reasons I faced the door. The little tease had left me high and dry and frustrated, and I couldn’t wait to get home to “take care of my frustration!” Man was I turned on!

However, it was an experience I would never forget and I often think about it, with a smile, to this day, nearly 30 years later, of the chijo who had the nerve to molest a foreigner on a crowded train in Japan. (Something told me this was not her first experience).

When I relayed this experience to my Japanese friends, both male and female, they didn’t seem all that surprised and both had said that, although rare, it is not unheard of for chijo to do that on trains. Maybe that is why men do it. Maybe, they are making the first move hoping they are interacting with, or hoping to find, a chijo. I don’t know. In my case it never happened again with a female although I have had more than a few men press themselves up against me both before and after this unique experience. In those cases, I either moved out of the way, got off at the next stop and then back on again, or found another spot quickly in the same or another car. But I didn’t make a scene and they never persisted or I may have ended up being arrested for assaulting someone.

After that exhilarating experience I often didn’t mind taking a crowded train at rush hour and kind of looked forward to it. In fact I often made it a point to take a crowded train for a while after that experience. But, I never experienced it again. And, I would never make the first move myself and press myself against a woman on purpose for fear of being called a chikan and maybe getting arrested. It is just not my style.

As a matter of fact, groping and the feeling up of women on trains has become so prevalent these days that the train companies in Japan are forced to have women only cars during the rush hour, especially in the mornings. Also, there are more than a few women these days on trains who yell “chikan!” and blame some innocent man for groping them when they never touched them. They do this so they can extort money from them in lieu of pressing charges. Also, there are quite a few female undercover cops who ride the trains these days and will arrest, on the spot, anyone groping them. Therefore, if you happen to find yourself on a crowded train in Japan these days be real leery of any woman pressing herself up against you as she may just be trying to trap or arrest you. Today, I would never respond in kind as I did back then.

If chijo ever became so prevalent, in Japan (which I doubt would ever happen) that they had to have separate cars for men, women, and mixed, I’m pretty sure the men only cars would be empty or filled with men looking to have an experience with other men. I know I would not ride in a men only car. Co-ed all the way for me! I mean what hetero man in his right mind would ride in a male only car?

Whoever you are, chijo-san, you gave a young man an experience he’ll never forget and one he’ll fondly cherish forever and still does! And for that, being a hot blooded male at the time, I thank you. Heck, I would even savor it with as much delight today as I did back then, but times are different.

If you are American, like me, and are planning to spend some time in London then there’s a lot you may want to know. Nothing can take away from the actual experience of living here. No one can teach you that. Yet, if you are a rookie in the UK or making arrangements to study here abroad or live here for a time – there are some interesting tidbits, pitfalls and surprises that will ultimately become part of the best stories of your life.

I’ve been living here for five years. Back when I began studying here, I only knew London by its landmarks, rituals and monarchs. No one who arrives in central London is going to be very surprised to see the changing of the guards or Big Ben. They might be intrigued or excited, but not surprised.

What might prove to be a revelation, however, is the quiet. Now I don’t mean to paint a picture straight from The Sound of Music, with some nymph-like woman twirling around on a hilltop. London is a major city with traffic, rush hours, homeless people, tourists and criminals – make no mistake about it. Yet, there are subtleties that sneak up on the unsuspecting newcomer. For example, during rush hour in the city, you will almost never hear a car honk its horn. If you are from Minnesota, that might not be a huge surprise. But I’m from New York, and it’s not possible to walk through that asphalt jungle at 9AM on a Monday without hearing a cacophony of car horns. Every car is speaking, and though each one sounds different they are basically saying the same thing. ‘Get out of my way!’ Yet in London, a car horn is a rarity. You may hear one ever so often – but even then – other drivers are looking at the trigger happy horn blower as if he has utterly lost his mind.

Another reality is that Englanders, as a rule, are very reserved people. That is not to say that there aren’t scuffles, arguments, scenes, tirades and even the occasional fight. Still, on average, voices are at a moderate pitch. If you are from a major city in America, this may take getting used to. In my first year in London, I was always asking people to repeat themselves. I was also very aware of the stares I received whenever I spoke in public – the loud New Yorker that I am. I’ve since learned to lower my voice, so much so that when I return home, my family and friends are asking me for the first two days, ‘Why are you talking so softly? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?’

These aspects of quietude gives London an overwhelming calmness that presents itself when least expected. One of my favourite hangouts was Leicester Square, which for all intents and purposes reminds one of Times Square if it was scaled down by about 60%. But right in the centre of the large movie theatres, restaurants and tourist shops is a tiny little park with trees, benches and statues. And though there is touristy mayhem and a vendor jamboree going on right outside the park, stepping in it is like entering a vacuum of hushed tranquillity. It’s as if the noise cannot penetrate the invisible walls of the park.

There are ever more interesting aspects about the journey that is England to be revealed in future blogs; as they are, even now, being revealed to me. Stay tuned for more. And remember, you don’t have to be American to relate to these experiences, and you don’t have to live in England to understand that every place on earth has its own special nuances. And the world keeps going ‘round.

Just riding the ‘L’ back to the apartment and as usual, there’s at least one person that catches your attention that can hold up your ‘huh?’ or ‘WTF?’ for the day. Today I had to witness one uncomfortable space violations between strangers on a train.

Now on the trains or any public transportation there will be some occurrences where you’ll have to experience the can of sardines feeling – rush hour, entrance or exit to a special event, etc. – this can happen. Now at 2:30pm on a Friday where there’s quite a bit of space left on a train, there shouldn’t be any need for closeness of this magnitude to a stranger.

I think the guy coming so close to this one girl was getting ready for his club night out tonight. It’s one of those proximity things where a dude at a bar creeps up to one unsuspecting girl on the dance floor. He doesn’t approach from her front side, but behind her. He sneaks up a begins to freak her. This wasn’t that much different. If he had a friend on the other side of her it’d be a ‘Night at the Roxbury’ re-enactment.

Today, I had to rise at the ungodly hour of 7:30am, and commute with swarms of anachronistic non-freelancers during rush hour.  And I remembered something:  NYC is hell.  I had forgotten it, so rarely do I have to fight my way into or out of a business district during prime commuting time.

Hrithik Roshan’s much awaited movie ‘Kites’ is all set to be released in its Hindi format, and now the preparations for its release in English version has started. And the person associating to re edit Kites for the benefit of American audiences is famous Brett Ratner.

Hollywood director Brett Ratner is known for his films Rush Hour trilogy, X Men 3 etc. It is for the first time in history that a Hollywood director is formatting a Bollywood movie.

Hrithik will star alongside Mexican actress Barbara Mori, with whom his romance was in news. The film has been directed by Anurag Basu and shot in Las Vegas, Mumbai, New Mexico and Los Angeles. Different languages and different locations, so the film has got all ingredients for global success,

So Hrithik going international this way.

“I am the Dragon. And you call me insane. You are privy to a great becoming, but you recognize nothing. To me, you are a slug in the sun. You are an ant in the afterbirth. It is your nature to do one thing correctly. Before me, you rightly tremble. But, fear is not what you owe me. You owe me awe.”

Red Dragon, the third and final film in the Hannibal series that is worth rewatching. Again, the writing, characters, acting and sets are magnificent. The direction could use a little work, but if you told me, “the guy who did Rush Hour and Xmen 3 is making the film of Red Dragon I would have slaughtered families. But no, he did a lot better than could be expected based on his other films. Rush Hour is fine, amusing, but it really doesn’t cut the mustard.

Anyway, despite the fact that I had previously felt it was my favourite, I’d say it is maybe the weakest of the trilogy (I’m not meaning to be insulting to Hannibal Rising, but it’s not worth including. Also, I’m not meaning to say that I don’t insult it, I’m just not doing so now.) The character of Francis is amazing, very well done by Ralph Fiennes, as usual. Same with Graham, I think he is a great character and Edward Norton does a really good job. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t need to be mentioned since he and Hannibal are really in another league, though in this film I can see the direction on him.

So, in hindsight, I’d say that Silence of the Lambs is definitely the best made, with probably the best Hopkins performance of the three. I still really adore a great deal of Hannibal, with only a few moments that aren’t dealt with well, plus some of my dislikes for the story which I don’t think can be avoided. I’d put it in a close second after Silence, only put back by some weak filmic techniques. Red Dragon comes in at a very memorable third, it is still a great film, but the book is not completely translated to the film. The feel is not there and while Ratner didn’t do a bad job, I would put some blame on the direction.

Anyway, all are great films, very worth a watch, very worth a read. Read and watch Hannibal Rising just because you should, but do not let it ruin the others for you.

Rush Hour Drizzle (322/365 11-18-09)

Originally uploaded by CarusoPhoto

A car. On the road. In the rain. As night falls.

That sounds like a photo op to me….

Every few days I use Twitter to vent my angry commuting inner bitch upon innocent followers. I can’t help it. It just pours out. All my anger, all my fury. I suggested community workshops once: how to form an orderly queue, how to get up for a pregnant woman, how not to stop and stand randomly at the bottom of escalators, how not to be a TOTAL AND UTTER TOSSER IN EVERY WAY EVER…

A Mr Ben Barden wrote and directed me to a perfectly charming and sensible post he had penned in response to everyone’s commuting frustrations. You can have a read here: benbarden.com I applaud Ben’s calm and rational approach to commuting. I am impressed by his sensible remarks which, if followed, would indeed improve the commute for everyone. Sadly, though, my soul remains a dark place of terror as I hop off my south eastern train and skip (aha!) through the Vaults at London Bridge towards the Jubilee line. Now I can’t profess to knowing very much about anything, but even *I* am amazed by the mindboggling cretinous stupidity of people from time to time. By time to time I mean in the rush hour, and by people I mean the following in particular:

Anyone, ANYONE who thinks it’s a good idea to pull a suitcase with wheels anywhere on the underground during said hour of speed.

People who get through the ticket barrier and then stop immediately to ’sort themselves out’. Twats.

People who choose to walk on the left but do so slowly; walking on the left is a commitment, people. Go for it by all means but give it some welly or stick to the right. I have fantasised about pushing many a plodder down the moving stairs. I’ll do it one day. You wait, or rather, you walk faster.

People who take a step onto the tube and then stop, looking left and right to see which will be the nicest space for them. Sweetheart, you can be wedged into that man’s armpit or flat against that woman’s Jilly Cooper. None of us care, just do it quickly.

People who smell. Stop it.

People who don’t get up for pregnant or elderly people. There is never, ever a reason for being that much of a bastard. And pretending you can’t see really increases how much of an arsehole everyone around you thinks you are. Get up, offer you seat. If you do it with grace, you might even feel good about yourself. And well you should.

And there you have it. There’ll be more of this I’m sure but my soul is about to make a bid for freedom to find some kinder home. Take care on your way home people, you know what to do.

Qui a Latveria, siamo dei ragazzi semplici. Ci piace leggere i fumetti, andare in birreria, limonare duro e andare al cinematografo. Quando qualcuno decide di trasportare su grande schermo le imprese di qualche nostro beniamino, noi siamo più che felici di andare a dare dei soldini a qualche annoiata cassiera. Anche se tutti ci fanno notare che abbiamo una certa età, che siamo laureati, che ormai siamo delle persone quasi rispettabili e che il panettiere del quartiere ci riconosce e ci tiene via il pane nei giorni di festa… insomma, ci siamo capiti… nonostante tutto questo, noi giovani e semplici ragazzi di Latveria, non vediamo l’ora di sederci al buio di una sala per vedere dal vivo, dal vero veramente, ciò che su carta ci ha emozionato per una vita intera… E spesso, quasi sempre, usciamo sconfitti, delusi, arrabbiati che ci viene da sbavare, roteare i pugni vero il cielo, sbarrare gli occhi e urlare “Perché? CRISTO, MA PERCHÉ?”

La redazione è dunque fiera di fare i nomi e i cognomi dei colpevoli dei 15 più orribili crimini contro l’umanità mai commessi in ambito fumettistico-cinematografico. Come ai tempi di Dj X & Maurizio Seimandi, andiamo con ordine, calma e parsimonia: oggi andiamo a scoprire chi c’è dalla posizione 15 alla 13…

15- Superman Returns, Bryan Singer, 2006

Il problema con i film di SuperMan è che gli si fa solo spostare-evitare-aggiustare-modificare oggetti inanimati e mai gli si lascia la libertà mollare due ceffoni. E dire che Supes nella sua carriera fumettistica non si è risparmiato in ceffoni.
Nonstante ciò (Do you know Bizarro? Mongul?…etc) nei film il suo unico grande avversario è sempre e comunque (con dovute ma anche risibili eccezioni) una pietra colorata. Non si parte benissimo.

SuperMan alla fine agisce come una gru blu e rossa. Un film in cui non fa altro che sollevare qualcosa.

I grandi avversari e sfide di SuperMan in SM Returns:

Solleva aerei, globi di metallo e donne in carriera (senza provocare upskirt)!

Naturalmente anche il gran finale del film è costituito da una scena in cui SuperMan solleva qualcosa, in questo caso una Capri di Kryptonite.

Tutto questo senza fare riferimenti all’irritantissime storie sul figlioletto di Superman (mai bambino fu più irritante) e su Lois che si spupazza Ciclope.

Attore di pregio che qui mette a rischio la sua carriera:
Frank Langella

14- X-Men: Conflitto Finale, Brett Ratner, 2006

Mentre Bryan Singer era alle prese con il sollevatore di ferro di cui sopra, le redini del terzo e atteso film sui nostri mutanti prefe di sempre, passa nelle manone tozze di Brett Ratner. Il regista di tanti video di Mariah Carey, colui che ha rovinato la carriera di Jackie Chan in terra americana, ce la mette tutta per girare un film all’altezza dei primi due. Sfortunatamente le ambizioni del film si scontrano e si sfracellano contro una sceneggiatura orribile, attori costretti a dire a fare delle cose che li rendono stupidi (il povero Hank McCoy per esempio qui ne esce malissimo) e un regista che giustamente adesso fa i video per Miley Cirus. Si riesce nella difficile impresa di buttare in vacca tutta, TUTTA, la Saga della Fenice Nera. Il bambino “cura” Cameron Bright fa venire voglia di invadere la Polonia. Unica cosa notevole: l’inseguimento tra la nostra amata Kitty Pride (interpretata da Ellen Page) e il grande Vinnie Jones aka Jaggernaut (il Fenomeno in italiano). Infatti…

Attore di pregio che qui mette a rischio la sua carriera:
Ian Mckellen

13 – La Leggenda degli Uomini Straordinari, Stephen Norrington, 2003.

Già dal titolo si capiscono un paio di cose: dagli Straordinari Gentiluomini del libro di Moore, siamo passati ai ben più ordinari Uomini Straordinari di Norrington. Per la cronaca, il nome completo di questo straordinario cretino è Stephen Norrington. Che a confronto Stephen Sommers è Otto Preminger. Ci si nasconde dietro a un “liberamente tratto” per non incappare in denunce da parte di Alan Moore . il quale ovviamente si è tenuto lontano da questa mega cazzata – e poter poi fare di testa propria. Con la simpatica conseguenza di aver rovinato uno dei racconti metaletterari più divertenti e intelligenti degli ultimi anni. Oltre ad aver aggiunto ad cazzum due personaggi come Tom Sawyer e Dorian Gray, si brancola nel buio cercando di trovare almeno una storia da raccontare. Con scarsissimi risultati. Sean Connery col toupé ai minimi storici. I soldi per gli effetti speciali devono essere finiti dopo i primi tre giorni di produzione per cui, dopo una sequenza iniziale con almeno un po’ di verve (leggi: qualche esplosione), il resto sembra brutta televisione. Una nota per coloro che hanno curato l’edizione italiana: Graphic Novel non si traduce Novella Grafica (perché io ve lo giuro, nei titoli di testa c’è scritto così…). Dovreste ridarci i soldi. O almeno la decenza di cambiare lavoro.

Attore di pregio che qui mette a rischio la sua carriera:
Sean Connery

Adriano & Fede MC

I don’t know about you, but our household always seems to be in a frenzy.  We are rushing to get ready for school/work.  Rushing to get out the door and gobble our food.  Rushing to some scheduled activity.  Rushing to get home, rushing to bed, etc.  It seems like all we do is run, we never seem to trot.

So when I received an email from Ann Kroeker, I just knew I had to read this book and fast!  No really, I’ve read through it three times, (that’s why it took me so long to post this).  I know I’ve been promising it to you for quite sometime.  But I truly wanted to slow down my life as well as my children’s.

I love my kids, and I want to savor every moment I have with them.  I want to make memorable moments stand out, and have the time to enjoy all the things they enjoy doing.  Don’t you?

As Ann states on the back of her book:

Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families explores the jarring effects of our overcommitted culture and offers refreshing alternatives with a Christian perspective. Author Ann Kroeker relates her own story of how embracing a slower everyday pace has resulted in a richer, fuller, and more meaningful family and spiritual life. Practical ideas and insights will spark creativity and personal reflection. Plus, ponder real-life stories from parents reaping the riches of a simper, slower lifestyle. Not so Fast offers hope that families struggling with hurried hearts and frantic souls can discover the rejuvenating power of an unrushed life.

This book is a must read if you feel like your life is rush hour constantly.  If you see the look of bewilderment on each of your kids faces.  Then please, pick up a copy of this book and read it and then read it again.  Actually take the steps that Ann suggests.  Implement it in your life, you will see a difference, I know our household has.  There is still that urgency, but we must resist and slow down.

I don’t want to say too much and spoil it for you, so grab you copy today.

Here is Ann’s website:  www.annkroeker.com

Thanks

M

I just thought of something that has been bothering me, and that is why I have been trying to get this idea off the ground. A driver asked me which way I would take home whether my way or his way was better. I think he new which way he was going to go but just wanted to get my opinion. We all have our favorite ways to get somewhere. There is always a favorite route that we like to take. Each way has it’s benefits sometimes the longer way may be faster and the shorter way could have more traffic on it during heavy travel times. The good things about the radio and traffic alerts on a local channel is they can help you as long as you remember that they are not always updated to real time. Some GPS systems have traffic reports and are a bit better, along with cell phones, but you cannot look at them and drive at the same time, it’s the law and the people on the coach will frown on it.

(Sorry, another rant coming)

Work had booked a meeting room at the nearby Holiday Inn Today, becuase we had some of our colleagues from an overseas branch visiting.  As the crow flies the Holiday Inn isn’t much further from home than work is, but going the short way would mean lots of right turns on busy roads in the rush hour.  There’s probably some sort of cyclepath alternative to the route, but from what I’ve seen (it would have been Milton Road, Kings Hedges Road, Histon Road) it’s constant hopping on an off the road and crossing it.  Sometimes I don’t think the people that plan cycle routes have ever actually seen a bike.

Anyway, the meeting started an hour later than my normal working day, and the weekend weather looks bad, so I decided I could get a long – indirect – ride to work in.  24km, 50 minutes, so not long but more fun than a normal commute (route).  The ride was good, but uneventful, until Histon. Although I did have a bit of a problem heading in to the sun with wet roads (glare).  The days first idiot came at the junction of New Road with Bridge Road.  I was heading south on Bridge Road, and there was a cyclist ahead of me that I was rapidly catching up.  So I waited for a gap in the traffic and overtook him.  The gap wasn’t particularly big so as soon as I moved over to the left of the road again there was a car on my right.  So then todays first idiot, some other slow bloke on a bike, decided to just drift out of the end of New Road on my left – in to the space that I’m am about to pass through – without looking – and going at less than half my speed.  I wasn’t sure if I had sufficient stopping distance, and the guy I’d just overtaken was not far behind me, so I ended up overtaking the idiot in the gap between him the traffic on my right.

On the way home the second idiot of the day was even better!  I decided that since it was after dark and the rush hour again I’d be better to go the short, urban but lit way home – rather than out in to the country lanes without any street lighting.  This meant going along Kings hedges Road with it’s many traffic lights and loads of left filter lanes to weave in an out of (not to mention the cycle lane veering off to silly places then coming back).  A couple of stretches of Kings Hedges Road have high hedges (maybe belonging to the King?) on what was my left as I was riding.  There’s no pavement where these hedges are, and not a great amount of street light.  As I cycled down the on road cycle lane by the hedge I notice something small moving in front of me at about handlebar height.  This turned out to be the ID tag hanging from the waist of some idiot who was walking along the cycle path, in the wrong direction, dressed head to toe in black.  Completely invisible.  Needless to say this idiot got an earful.  Although I’m happy for natural selection to take place, I don’t want to be its agent.

Whassup?  Like my wheels?  Mine are hidden slightly out of view behind this lovely set… rubbish!  Got me a hire car for a few days, to poke about on the areas of Auckland you can’t reach easily by bus, and also to facilitate my move tomorrow.  It’s an automatic… so there was a sharp learning curve there trying to figure out what the heck to do.  Fortunately the woman from the hire shop took pity on me and we went for a mini-driving lesson where I had to control my flapping left arm and leg so as not to look like a total plonker!

Anyway, it turns out that an automatic is pretty good in Auckland’s rush ‘hour’ (all 3 hours of it), which I experienced on the way back from Warkworth this evening.  Warkworth was somewhere that I visited in 2004, and I think I still have the leaflet ‘Visit Warkworth, It’s Amazing’ or something in my chest of drawers in storage in Exeter.  In 2004 it was some sort of dreamy wonderland that I never wanted to leave.  In 2009 it was somewhere I spent an hour wandering round in the rain looking again for that magic charm… I didn’t find it.  So, somewhat soggy, back in the car and down the road to Puhoi. 

Puhoi has ‘The Art of Cheese’ shop and cafe.  I didn’t see any cheese sculptures though, which was a bit disappointing.  Somewhere that drew me in, and only let me go because (a) they weren’t serving food and I was ravenous and (b) I  had to drive back, was the Puhoi pub… will someone please drive me there one evening so I can try out all the beers?

Oh noes!

Ha! This is awesome! One of my coworkers actually saw the paint on the highway. They said it was really weird and confusing. A lot of it covered up the lane markers so everyone was driving slow. Yikes!

Via Mercury News:

The California Highway Patrol has reopened a major freeway connector in San Diego after cleaning up about 200 gallons of paint that spilled off a truck.

The CHP said Monday that about 40 buckets of white paint fell off the truck’s flatbed as the driver rounded a curve onto eastbound Interstate 8 from northbound state Highway 163.

Officer Jesse Udovich says the connector reopened shortly before 2 p.m., about six hours after the spill occurred during morning rush hour. No injuries were reported.

I don’t expect to get home from work without seeing someone do something stupid, Cambridge is full of bad cyclists and bad drivers.  Normally I can avoid town in the rush hour by going around the outlying villages, but last night I had to go to the doctor which meant in to and out of town during the rush hour.  When I left the doctor it was a little after 5:00pm, so it was the height of the rush hour and already dark.  I took a short cut through the retail park, but had to use Newmarket Road between the Tesco and the Cambridge United ground.  From Tesco to Stanley Road I had a white van driver up my arse (within 5 feet), despite the fact I was in a bus and bike lane, and he had no lights on.  The traffic in the actual car lane was static andhe was trying to get ahead of it.  Then, after a brief moment stuck behind a bus that couldn’t get from the bus and bike lane back in to normal traffic (the bus lane ends), I got stuck behind the guy in the Chelsea Tractor who decided to use the bike lane as a left turn slip road but was too wide to get through.  So he just held me up as well as being stuck himself.  Then, over the humpback bridge over the railway, and hidden by the double decker bus stuck in the queue, there’s some idiot cycling up the road back at me.  On the wrong side.  He at least had lights on so I saw him, but with traffic on his left (my right) and the kerb on the otherside there wasn’t room for two bikes to pass.  Needless to say he got an earful.

Tonight I can avoid town as usual.

Je niaise sur l’ordi en ce moment et j’entends le son d’un des innombrables films de Jackie Chan qui peuplent la vidéothèque de TVA en fond sonore.  Ceci m’a fait réfléchir sur deux choses…

1- La voix de Jackie Chan en français est vraiment horrible.  C’est un mélange de stéréotype de propriétaire de dépanneur et de fond de gorge à la Pierre Lapointe.  Le pire, c’est que c’est la même voix dans tous ses films depuis aussi loin que je me rappelle, de Rush Hour jusqu’aux films asiatiques dont il m’est incapable de prononcer le nom.  Est-ce que c’est un Québécois qui le double? Un Français? Pierre Lapointe qui s’est ouvert un dépanneur au Japon?

2- C’est vraiment insupportable de seulement entendre un film de Jackie Chan.  Quand tu ne vois pas l’image, ça ressemble à ça:

POW! Ouff! POW! Aaaarggh! CLOW! POW! Ah! Eh! Ouff!

Premier rôle féminin: “Attention, Jackie!”

CRACK! POW! Ah! HA HA! POF! CRIC! CRAC! CROC! CHABADA! Aie! Ow!

Méchant: “AARRRGGHhhhhh!” (plonge à sa mort en bas d’un chantier de construction)

Jackie Chan: “Che trrrouve qu’il est trrrès mal élevé, ce type!” (ou n’importe quelle mauvaise traduction française du genre)

5 Best things about living in small town America:

Living in a small town definitely has it’s disadvantages; unless a new place opens you’ve already sampled all the local cuisine, God help you if you need some odd piece of technical equipment in a hurry, you have a limited amount of (typical) entertainment options… The list goes on, anyone who has ever lived in po-dunk-ville for yourself could easily add a couple hundred items to that list. But there are some pluses to living in a slice of Americana with fewer bodies per acre, here’s a few of of my favorite things about it:

1) The special pace of small towns:

Over the course of my life i’ve lived in a couple of small towns and worked in many more and one thing that seems to be common amongst them all is the pace that life seems to move at in a small town: s……….l………..o………….w…………….e…………….r…………………

There are times when i think i’ll have an aneurism having to wait behind a pair of “good-ole-boys” catching up on hunting conditions! What’s the problem with that my metropolitan friends may be wondering, it may have just a tad to do with the fact that they just stop on almost any two-lane road, back up and sit window to rolled-down-window talking shop; deer-scat, gutting techniques (the new “use your pick-up truck to yank the hide off” method seems to be quite the talk these days), calibers, bans on flavored tobaccos and just whatever other girlish chit-chat they need to catch up on.

Trips to Walmart can also wind up playing like something best reenacted by  the likes of Bill Murray. Jet into Walmart in any sort of hurry and you will find yourself practically assaulted by a spirit of Sloth, and i don’t mean laziness- i mean human beings channeling the very essence of the three-toed sloth of South America, moving slow enough to foster a thriving population of moss on their backs!

But overall, in a world that seems to be winding itself up to higher and higher speeds, a world where we don’t just want high speed internet- we want it in our pocket! The slower pace can be so refreshing. When i see some old guys sitting in a local eatery, lunch long consumed, just sitting and reading the paper or chatting or hitting on some calloused yet southern-friendly waitress i’m reminded that soon enough, just around the corner really, i’ll be dead and feeding microbes and invertebrates and if i don’t take a breath and drink in TODAY, today will be gone for good.

2) “Rush Hour”

Yep, there really is none! Sure there is a surge of traffic around quitting time but compared to the flames of tortuous aggression and bumper-to-bumper retardation of the D.C. beltway small town traffic isn’t even a match-flame.

3) You have a name:

In small town America, everyone has a name and lots of people know it. In a world where we are striving to live in anonymity (from online shopping to self-checkouts to ATM’s to automated call centers we are steadily removing human interaction from our world) it is nice to NOT be anonymous from time to time.

Sure it has it’s own breed of irritations, just try and do ANYTHING secretly in a small town! You have a colonoscopy and they are running the images on page 3 of the paper! Try to be anti-social for a day and you’ll find you have to stay at home to pull it off, go out for a tube of Pringles and a movie (even from the Redbox) and you’re going to bump into at least three people you know.

But, it was nice when a few weeks ago the manager of Walmart greeted me by first name. Or when the theater manager let me in for free. Or when i go down-town to grab a cheese-burger at the Grill and if the owner is in there i have trouble paying, he just won’t take my money just because i’m his nephew’s youth pastor.

It’s nice to be more than a social security or a debit card number.

4) Creative entertainment

i’m sure i’ve mentioned this before sometime but this is one of my favorite things about living in a small town. Life in a more metropolitan area means free time is usually consumed with going out to eat. i think if i lived in a city i would weigh 300lbs, i’d be that guy on the hover-round, heart straining to push my gravy-blood around my sprawling body-mass, lungs working like an asthmatic summiting K-2, ladling au jus over deep fried french toast sticks. Man, i LOVE food!

But i don’t live in a city, i live in the dead center of nowhere! Living inside a post-card picture has nurtured my love of the outdoors. And it’s to the outdoors that people in small towns must look for many of their entertainment options.

“Going for a swim” for me an my friends doesn’t involve a single drop of chlorine, instead it involves a minimum two mile round-trip on foot, a full fledged “swimming hole”, heck often they become full fledged Huck Finn-esque endeavors.

Small town living has to get some credit for my love of back-packing, biking, canoeing, and a flagrant disregard for “No Trespassing” signs!

You can have your Ruby Tuesday’s, PetSmarts, Sam’s Clubs and Cold-stone Creameries… give me my abandoned mines, fire-roads and low-traffic black top!

5) Firearms!

Where else can a man who hasn’t been on a hunting trip since he was 13 or 14 years old own an assault rifle and not raise a single eye-brow?

MAN! i do love my guns!

i don’t own many, but if you’d like to see them just break into my house one night while i’m asleep and i’ll introduce you to at least one of them!

Just knowing they are in the house makes me want to wear something that says “Carhart” on it, put the dog in the bed of the pick-up, crank up some Waylon Jennings crooning about “makin’ their way, the only way they know how” and ride to the store for a CASE- yes a case, not a box- of shells! My inner red-neck is cutting donuts in my brain on his four-wheeler as i write this!

When i was a kid growing up in a small town all i wanted to do was get out of small town living, but like so many who shared those same aspirations i found that i didn’t really mind living in a small town… in fact i prefer it!