Critical Mind Overload

I've recently encountered pathological feminism. It's a terminal case. Irrecoverable. Exaggeration? Well, how would you name a feminist who is ready to go at your throat if you as much as let her go first through the door? And at the same time wishes she'd been born a boy? If this is not pathology, then what is?

Well, nevermind. The spring has come and with it the two Riders of Crapocalypse - allergy and summer exam session. Allergy has not been much of a nuisance this year, though. Just a one-day knockdown. Yet driving a car in such condition is hell.
And the session... Well, it's not going to be as bad as in the 2nd year. Or so it seems. I've already marked history of English as a predictable failure. Transcribing in Middle English might seriously kick me inna head. And I have to go work every bloody morning and convince myself that I actually have to suffer this pain, or say goodbye to four weeks of windsurfing in August. AND I have "Friends" seasons 3&4 to watch.

However, it's not that bad. Actually, all is pretty well. Cause "Stadium Arcadium" will be released on Monday - yay!

Well, at last. The first single from Chili Peppers' new album has been officially released. The first impression after listening to "Dani California" was that the Peppers had decided to raise the spirit of "One Hot Minute". John's guitar sounds a bit like Dave Navarro, though ornamented with Fru's unique touch. Chad's parts sounds to me somehow like the late 'Bonzo' Bonham. He plays differently but the energy and power that he hits his drums with bring up Bonzo to my memory. Anthony's voice is recognizable from the very first syllable and Flea is, as usual, second to none. But it's not the song itself that has hammered me six feet below. It's the video. Which happens to be an absolute killer.
Imagine an almost 5-minute long history of 20th century music. They start with Elvis, with Anthony brilliantly imitating the King's pelvis moves, then something like The Byrds or The Beach Boys (four fellows in bit-too-tight suits, with guitars hung under their very noses), and after that it gets even better. Abba, Sex Pistols, David Bowie (Glamrock Flea - unforgettable), Europe (or the like, Anthony and John in HUGE white wigs) The Cure (Chad!), and Nirvana from 'Unplugged in NY (Anthony really looks like Kurt). The final part is an energetic performance by the Peppers themselves. I might have missed something but you have the picture. The Red Hot Chilli Peppers are back - and really kick ass.

This is getting ridiculous.

The Games are over. The medals have been taken, the athletes are packing and leaving. So I assume it's a good time for summaries. Or more specifically, summaries of Poles taking part. True, 'taking part' was the word for the majority of Polish athletes. We couldn't expect speed skaters to actually produce some medal results but they should at least be able to complete their run (which was obviously too much of an effort for Maciej Ustynowicz). Snowboarders - yet another disaster. Paulina Ligocka might have been knocked down by the judges (she should have got much more for this haakon flip, even if it was far from perfect) but the rest of the team was just pathetic. Especially Mateusz Ligocki, the single rider to have qualified for both halfpipe and snowboard cross on the Games. We didn't expect him to win anything but in the pipe he could have done a bit better than falling on his back at an ill-attempt to do some backgrab, and in the cross, well, let's just say that he didn't go all the way. Jagna Marczułajtis is too miserable to be mentioned. Ski-jumpers - no medals but let's be realistic. Adam Malysz stood no chance whatsoever to even get close to the box. And yet the rest did impressively well. Especially in the team competition.
And now for something completely different. That is to say, success. Funny thing, success. It's hardly ever been the case for Polish winter athletes. Still, the 20th Winter Olympic Games were not a complete disaster for Poland. Two medals, a couple of really good results - in fact, when it comes to medals and points, Torino 2006 were the best ever Games for Poland. No gold, someone might say. True. But still one silver and one bronze medal, both won by athletes who only Thursday evening were called 'huge disappointments'. Tomasz Sikora, Justyna Kowalczyk - I salute thee.
Call me a fool but I'm quite optimistic about the next Winter Games. Beware, Vancouver, here we come!

On March 13th Anno Domini 2006, in the most unfortunately named bookstore in the City of Would-be Angels, there shall appear the enfant terrible of contemporary British fiction!

In other words: there will be a meeting with Irvine Welsh in Traffic Club (who on earth came up with this sort of name for a bookstore? It sounds like Ecstasy Generation meets Middle-Ages). Those of you who happen to have been on a different planet or something - it's the man who wrote "Trainspotting". And "Glue". And "Filth". And "Acid House".

Just felt it right to inform the wider (ah-hah) public. Cheers.

This was the very first thing that came into my mind after I had heard of the Cartoon Riots. Where art thou, o Godfrey the Defender of the Holy Sepulchre, thou who hath stormed the walls of Jerusalem crying "It's God's will!"...

... erm... Let's get back to normality. Honestly, I was really pissed to hear that the Muslims demand an official apology for some stupid cartoon published in Danish press. I was even more pissed to hear that they actually started rioting and assaulted some embassies and European offices. Now wait a minute. So THEY are allowed to slay us, to call us 'infidel dogs', to call for a kill'em all of Europeans and Americans - and WE have to tolerate and understand, to praise them for being a hord of mindless desert-dwellers who once had a great culture but it's gone, dead, buried and forgotten? And still when THEY go rampage for some idiotic reason - we have to apologise to them? Huh? Would someone kindly explain this to me? Because I think I've lost the thread somewhere.

Jerzy Dudek - what a fucking misery. And what a bastard Rafa Benitez is. Six months have passed since the Dudek Dance at the penalty shoot-out in the Champions League Final and since then Dudek hasn't played a single game. I keep myself asking the question: what's wrong with Mr Benitez. He has Pepe Reina as the No.1 between the poles, Scott Carson as the first sub, and there is this kid, recently bought from MK Dons. So why the fuck wouldn't he let Dudek go? What good is a goalkeeper who doesn't even play in the reserve team?

Luckily enough, Jerzy is not the only top class goalkeeper in our beloved, middle-of-nowhere Vaterland. There are others who can take his place between the poles in the national team. One of them already has (hail, hail!). But it's bloody miserable to see him sitting somewhere in the crowd at Anfield, watching his team mates, none of whom said but a word for him. For fuck's sake, the man won the CL for them and they won't even say they are sorry for him or anything. You Will Never Walk Alone? Like hell you will. You just need some miraculous penalty saves at some most important European cup final.

Bloody misery, that's what it is.

So, here we are. Which is where, someone might ask. Truth be told, I don't really know myself. I guess it's yet another place in the digital universe to pour out your deepest dreams, feelings, desires et consortes.

Well, not for this journal. Here there'll be monsters! (dear, dear... I might have just used this fine expression for the second time in weblog descriptions. Forgive me, thou who hath readeth my last one). But I'm straying off the topic...

... as if there were any topic but loose sentences, gramatically and semantically correct, yet not creating any sensible discourse, form which an individual might obtain some useful information. Or any information at all.

Anyway, as some grunge geek once said: Whatever. Nevermind.

Cheers.