Off its axis
Posted 1 year, 6 months ago at 5:04 am. 0 comments
At the risk of sounding like some sort of Faustian soothsayer, the world appears to be slightly off-kilter. One isolated incident I’m content to write off as an anomaly, an acid-reflux hiccup in the pattern of our dreary lives, but in the words of the great Bonnie Tyler “oh shit, here it comes again”
First off, there’s Joel Johnson and his anti-tech beration of all the gadget world holds holy over at Gizmodo. Now Joel has been called the grand doyenne of those hallowed pages, putting in a two year stint of biting apathy and growing horror reporting on the fabulous breakthroughs in the world of consumer electronics, and currently runs Dethroner complete with beard and attitude. I’m sure he won’t mind me saying that he’s proved himself there a harsh, sarcastic SOB with little time for feckless whelps and dregs, and built an adoring audience because of it.
Well, the comments over at Gizmodo are split between horror and adulation (with a sprinkling of “take a joke, man” types who probably spit-shined their slippers when they were pre-teens) as Joel takes pot-shots-a-plenty at the sort of people who a) maintain fawning gadget blogs and b) read fawning gadget blogs and then scatter the contents of their purse across whatever shop counter will provide them with their latest early-adopter fix. Reasonable stuff, but perhaps overshadowed by the obvious glee Joel takes in lampooning people like, um, me.
As if that wasn’t enough to turn the greasy world on its baffling head, then I’m flicking through the pages of 10+ Men International magazine and worrying myself not a jot about the fashions of the coming season (which I think is Spring/Summer 2020). If you’ve seen a photo of me in which I’m actually wearing pants then you’ll know that said-leg coverings are never skinny jeans, drainpipes or anything less than a relaxed fit with boot-cut or flare, mainly because of my arse and its insistence on monopolising conversations and whatever EU denim mountain might be remaining.
You steel yourself to ridiculous fashion spreads, of course, to androgynous twink models staring sullenly at distant swimming pools while wearing diamanté waistcoats and trousers made of vintage trilbies, but you don’t expect a photo of a topless boy with the caption “Above, Fragrance John Varvatos” I mean, a photo the subject of which is a child wearing perfume? You’ll be pleased to know that I scratch’n’sniffed just to make sure it wasn’t a cunning advert, but unless Varvatos’ latest stench is meant to make you smell like the magazine rack in WH Smiths I’m at a loss.
Photos of odours, geeks denouncing gadgets - what next to shake us from our complacency. I’d make some vague, un-PC comment about child abuse but it’s all far too easy what with Austrians imprisoning their children in deep-pile excrement and the richest countries of the world being told they’re practically buggering their offspring in UNICEF’s latest cat-among-the-pigeons report. Seriously, guys, I prefer it when you make me try.
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