Oh god this made me laugh – the excellent Scarfolk site, which brilliantly parodies a version of 70s & 80s Britain and government communiques that are even odder and more twisted than the originals, found this week that the actual UK government included one of their parody versions of a public information poster in an official government publication about a history of such government communications. As the chap who runs Scarfolk notes, the poster informed families to shoot any of their children with rabies, and still the government workers didn’t notice, or at least didn’t consider this too extreme… (via BoingBoing)
Drawn & Quarterly
We’ve been huge fans of Tom Gauld’s work for ages here on the blog, so it’s always a pleasure to have a new book from him, and in my own case I also had the added pleasure of getting to meet and chat to Tom about Mooncop at the Edinburgh International Book Festival a few weeks ago (report here). In his weekly Guardian cartoons Tom has often referenced science fiction and also a sort of retro-futurism which somehow manages to combine humour and amusement along with nostalgia and a gentle melancholy. Think, for an example closely related to his new book, of his cartoon of three panels, one showing the Moon from billions of years ago to 1969, an unchanging vacuum desert, then a panel showing the brief visits of Apollo, then the last showing the Moon from 1973 onwards, back once more to the empty, unchanging desert, empty of people, the bright moment of optimistic future exploration has been and gone.
(revisiting some of Tom’s earlier work before our Edinburgh Book Festival chat I saw this strip in a different light now, perhaps an early ancestor of what would become some elements of Mooncop. Collected in the You’re All Jealous of My Jetpack by Tom Gauld, published Drawn & Quarterly)
Mooncop takes that feeling and that older, optimistic belief in the future, one many of us of a certain age grew up, that by the 21st century we would be living on the Moon, holidays in space, jet packs for all (an old children’s guide to the future proudly proclaiming all of this as if it were fact was one of Tom’s inspirations for the book), and delivers a story that celebrates the wonders of the stark Lunar landscape while also questioning why we thought we would want to live there in the first place. “Living on the Moon, whatever were we thinking? It seems rather silly now” comments one older lady, one of the original colony designers, to the Mooncop, who replies “Not to me. I think what you did was wonderful”.
Our cop zooms around that astonishing landscape in his hover-car, but with little to do – zero crimes, means actually his efficiency rating is high, but that low crime is mostly because there are fewer and fewer people still living on the colony. Helping an old lady find her missing dog (off for a Lunar walk in his pressurised “hamster ball”, which makes for some smile-inducing visuals), or retrieving the faulty robotic automaton of Neil Armstrong (a clever way to give him a sort-of cameo and pay homage to that first human on the Moon) is about the worst he has to deal with in his police duties. And as he returns to his apartments each evening (a relative term on the Moon) he experiences an ennui, that this place he always wanted to come to and finds beautiful is slowly dying as people give up and move back to Earth.
Perhaps he should too? What’s the point in being the only cop on the Moon if there are almost no people for him to serve and protect? Every day there are fewer and fewer. He feels like he arrived at a great party after it had started to break up, and starts to consider the other may be right and he should request a move back to Earth too. And yet… And yet, it’s the Moon, it’s that stark, otherworldly beauty and the image of the Earth rising above the horizon, a homage to that remarkable photo, Earthrise, taken by the crew of Apollo 8 as they came out of the shadow of the dark side of the Moon on Christmas Eve, 1968, the first time any human being had ever had a view of the whole globe hanging in space.
He loves it, and as the book continues, as the 60s-style optimistic, shiny Big Future fades in the face of everyday necessity and reality Mooncop becomes less about the science fiction or the humour (although both remain present, I should add) and more about that personal journey, not the physical one to the Moon but the inner one we all have to take at some point, about getting to a place, both physically and emotionally, where we don’t judge our place by what others say but how we feel about it. Our slightly-lost Lunar policeman needs to figure out where he is happiest, what makes him feel right. It’s a lovely, gentle tale of how the future used to look on one level, while on another level it’s about how it isn’t the discoveries and new locations and technologies which make a good future, it’s us ourselves and our understanding of where we want to fit into it all.
The art is gorgeous throughout, Tom’s minimalist approach paying dividends on the largely barren Lunar landscape, while the colony itself is quite different from many other Moonbases I’ve seen in science fiction. Rather than a huge, domed city sprawling across the plains or a large underground base as in 2001, here it’s individual buildings – apartments, small houses, trees, coffee shops (even a Mooncop needs coffee and donuts, which of course come packed in their own little pressurised containers), with their own little domes, spread out across the landscape, reminiscent of a small town in one of the great deserts of the USA, and there are some nice little references in the art to visual inspirations from the real-world (once futuristic, now run-down cube apartments in Japan) and from science fiction (from Duncan Jones’ Moon to 2001 and Silent Running). It’s a lovely, smile-inducing work, presented in a lovely, well-designed small flexible hardback with metallic finish (a nice addition to your shelves)
This review was originally penned for the Forbidden Planet Blog
Passing Scayles Music on Edinburgh’s Southside this afternoon, spotted these fabulous instruments – yes, Election Ukuleles!!!
Apologies for the reflections, normally put lens close up to glass to avoid reflections when shooting through a window, but no way to do that in this instance and still fit all of them in. As ever click on the pic to check larger versions on the Woolamaloo Flickr
It’s dreadful – kids ask and ask for them, can we get one, mum and dad, can we, can we? I’ll look after him! Then a few days later, bored, they discard the poor thing and it ends up abandoned on the cold, winter streets. A Minion is for life, people, not just for Christmas, stop the dumping of poor, unloved Minions on our streets!
My very special new ale lens filter for my camera, it gives a fine perspective on the world:
I absolutely loved Deanne Smith’s nerdy love – and in some places delightfully dirty – song (the lyrics really are designed for we geeks) and her adorable kitten lends a helping paw throughout (via BoingBoing):
Many nursery rhymes have been passed down for generations, but in our modern, wired-up, interconnected age where youngsters are more savvy to trends and tech than ever, perhaps many of them are losing their relevance to contemporary children, so we need to modernise them a little:
Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker man, bake me a low-fat, high fibre muffin, as fast as you can (and a skinny latte to go with it, please)
Little Jack Horner, sat in his corner, thinking when I grow up I will be a famous paleontologist
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, then called Injury Lawyers For You and sued someone to cover his own clumsiness
Mary had a little lamb, it used to send out her email spam
Old Mother Hubbard, went to the cupboard, then decided it was more convenient to order her grocery shopping online
There was an old lady, who lived in a shoe, because the mean bailed-out bankers wouldn’t give her a mortgage
Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, his high-fat sedentary lifestyle made him die
Jack and Jill went up the hill, as part of their daily cardiovascular exercise programme (didn’t want to end up like Georgie)
Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, which she had assembled herself from an Ikea flatpack using an Allen key
This isn’t just any half a pound of tuppenny rice and half a pound of treacle, this is M&S tuppenny rice and treacle
Yes, it has been ten years and so it is time for the UK-wide Census. Fortunately for those of us north of the border the Registrar for Scotland deals with our one, so at least we don’t get London-blinkered questions like “if you live in Scotland or the North of England, do you know what electricity is?” And it does include Gaelic and Scots as language options too, although annoyingly it didn’t include a box to tick for Elvish or Klingon. Pah. Some citizens have raised concerns over some of the questions being asked, wondering why the authorities really need to know some things – they say it is to plan for the future in terms of hospitals, schools and other resources that will be required, but even so I have to also add my voice to the growing concern over some of the questions posed on the 2011 Census. I mean some of these are invasive of my privacy and I question what strategic planning value they will give to authorities for arranging future national resources, with questions like:
How many yaks do you keep in your household attic? (I especially objected to this one as I live in a Victorian tenement flat so don’t have an attic, so this question left me feeling inadequate and jealous of those rich people with attics to keep yaks in)
How many DVDs do you have in your collection? Please arrange answer by alphabetical title order and BBFC rating. Indicate clearly which films are non English language and contain subtitles.
Do you keep your underwear and socks in the same drawer or individual compartments?
Please explain why you insist on drinking coffee when you know fine well that Her Brittanic Majesty prefers tea.
Preferred biscuit to dunks at elevenses – Digestive, Hobnob, shortbread, other (please indicate – be aware anything other than these three acceptable biscuits will be taken as a sign of subversive personality behaviour)
Have you now or have you ever been a member of the Communards fan club?
Who do you find more trustworthy, Nick Clegg or Cleggy from Last of the Summer Wine?
Are you satisfied with A) your high-speed broadband connection and B) the quality of online pornography?
Elucidate on the correct form of address for the Haggis (include the post code).
Red or White wine?
Cats or dogs?
Kiera Knightley or Carey Mulligan?
How many umbrellas do you own in your househould? Please indicate if they are full-sized or telescopic.
Explain, using graphics where necessary, the symbolism of the London Olympic logo and why it isn’t really a huge waste of money.
When you die do you plan to be interred in a cemetery, cremated, leave your body to science or have your corpse re-animated and return as a zombie? (please indicate if you intend to be evil, brain eating zombie or the more comedy friendly variety if the latter)
Explain why even in a pan-European, progressive, inclusive society it is still socially acceptable to make fun of A) red haired people (even in Scotland), B) fat people, C) mentally disturbed people who appear on reality and talent shows and D) the Belgians.
Britain’s love for curries proves that we’re really not racist at all and are actually a jolly nice multi-cultural society – discuss in no more than 500 words. Please indicate your favoured curry dish.
Explain why, using picures where required, Oor Wullie is an important medium for recording the microcosm of Scottish society.
Did you fill in this form yourself you lower class oik, or did you do it properly and have your butler do it?
Zombie apocalypses are a bit of a nuisance, especially during the holidays, but here’s some solid, good old-fashioned 50s style advice for coping with an undead outbreak during the festive season (via BoingBoing):
I love this map of the world accordign to the San Francisco perspective (via BoingBoing):