Angels, Olympians (comedians, chamelians, carinthians and charicatures..)

Thank god that I never went to school to be flogged into following the ways of a fool, and on this occasion took myself miserably down to Peckham Rye where I am fairly certain I found something.
In the late 1700s the young W. Blake took a long stroll from Soho to the Rye, where he saw an angel in a tree. I have the utmost time for all of Blakes outputs, the polymath poet and alturistic engraver was indeed touched and should be belived, what is placatingly dispelled though, ss that that tree ( which of course in paradoxical grey-green damp reality of county council orthodoxies could never have existed ) is no longer there
Au bloody Contraire, I boldly go.  This has got to be it. I just reckon so, you know? Look at all the faces, look at its neo gothic natural curves..its like a church, and whatever aesthetic representation of Christian notions appeals or applies across history (I'm no history of architecture knowledge fountain, or indeed drip) don't you kind of think that it is elemntally there, the same shapes that appear across life forms from the macrocosmic to the miniscules, patterns and shapes and arches and curves, are always there, appearing again and again, forever and ever, amen.

In other news the incorrigible truller H. Hood has been doing some cash-reward spying / working at the Olympics, which may prove to be a vital insight in the coming cock-ups surely ahead. 

"We went to an Olympic Enablers opening event which was huge, and a loud recorded voice said 'HELLO GAMES MAKERS'. Eddy Izzard was compering, him and Sebastian Coe were arseing about, throwing around free chocolate bars and burgers.. I don't know what they think they're promoting."

I'll tell you Hood. The proud sponsors of the unlimpics are Macdonalds and Cadbury's (/ Kraft).  Put that in your cheese and slice it.

I never really found Eddy Izzard all that funny, this is problaby the funniest thing he's done, harking back to a few posts ago where I mentioned satire being unnessicary, Satire is Undead. Why get Spitting Image back when the news is cheaper to produce and it doesn't gross out the children so much? On the Olympics, this is all I have to say, which I already said ages ago. Do you know this postcard was part of a pitch that got personally rejected by non other than the keyboardist from HEAVEN 17? UH HUH!

The rest reside here. Come the time feel free to print them and send them, don't give  us any money, we live on fresh air <3. http://www.flickr.com/photos/truller/sets/72157626831638737/

On the subject of Seb Coe, some friendly men in Westminster said it for us, viewable from 2.47 onwards, briefly:

You know

I feel I really ought to direct you to my other blog. It's different, as it's actually about something rather than being simply a gallery of my (albiet exellent) exploits.
It's about stuff I find, or get sent, and It's got a new particularly horrifying entry today. So head on over, Do, do, please. X

It'll give an insight into the following images, and can be found here >voyuerismbypost.blogspot.com,

YBA's, CSA's, BDA's, TWOC, YOT, you-name-it

Whilst for the past few years fans missing Armando Ianuchi's wonderful 'The Thick of It' have only had to tune in to radio four every hour on the hour for their does of satirical ineptitude, life really outdone itself in it's mirroring of art this time; http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2012/mar/02/police-privatisation-security-firms-crime

On brighter pastures here's the deal- m'colleague and I started this week in typical style, 

However by the end of the week had indeed made our fortunes as fucking big deal artists, in the show as mentions in the previous post. There WAS free booze, and it was no shan table deal, there was a freeeee bar.  As you can see..

This was all paid for by Red Bull, who for the record are kidding absolutely noone with this sort of thing. Oh and by the way, see that dark handsome chap horsin' around? That's Charsles fegan (olopolisinc.blogspot), author of an earlier posted video. These photos are courtesy of Jonesy, authour of atasteforperfection.blogspot., if your didn't already know, which you probably did as she has 29 followers!

Thank you Red Bull, thank you kindly for your incredible generosity, but you see, if I want to drink energy filth I think you'll find Euro Shopper brand energy drinks undercut you by a cool £1.25 at least.  Though I will stop short of reccomending their 'lemonade'.

edit; though my watch says 3.29, it wasn't 3.29 ,  I just don't know how to work it if it gets unsettled.

m'colleague(s)

and I are wasting our time in the digital media suite. Someones got to make things like this, or there'd be no Opposition.

Here's Matts Hard-Rockin' effort..may I recoomend you play these video at the same time?


And here is Charlie Fegan's recent masterpeice.  Fcuk the Industry.

a study in Widdecombe..and the other side

I had the misfortune of discovering It is feasible to watch countdown on the little video tellys in the library. So much for hard work. The very bottom picture is from a the final night of a Laura Buckley exhibition in Hackney. Cosmic, maaan, As you can see I'm on crutches. What sorrow!
Here's a muuuuuuuuucccccchhhh longer version of that little sunshine film. It gets good at about 2/3rds in, I'd FF>> it if I were you.
It will be being displayed, along with some other stuff at a few of my friend's on the art course's debut show called LACUNA at Red Bull Studios , 155-171 Tooley Street, Private view Thursday 29th March, continuing until Tuesday. Featuring Joyce Teo, Yolanda Hanson, Lisa Stein, Matthew Silcox, Maggie Stewart. .. music on the night at 8pm: Kashmir Kid
There'll probably be free drink. There often is, isn't there?

Why do you make things so difficult for yourself? / ELVIS 2012

Well well well. Or is that unwell?
I apologise for the dreary, old and tenuous nature of this post, you see I've spent most of this week vainly battling the forces which conspire against me, to take my life.
After waking up at 7am monstrously hungover in not-my-own bed, and trudging to a hospital appointment, basically nothing nice has happened to me this week - apart from watching two films, both starring (to some extent) Dennis Hopper ; one, the David Lynch marathonic Inland Empire, and the second, better, Hopper directed Out of the Blue, which, when being watched in a back room of Goldsmiths caused such an attitude of lawlessness to break out, that smoking - indoor no less- ensued.
Though I have 'given up' smoking, I can resist no opportunity to pettily break the law..which is what this post is getting to, taking a swift detour via some more audio-visual analysis;

When I was in one of this weeks many hospital waiting rooms I had the opportunity to watch some day time telly. I have not watched daytime telly for a few years at least, and I have not watched it at the hour of 9 for at least ten years.  By God.
I didn't see a lot of it thankfully, but the two programmes that followed each other both concerned Property; the one's novelty appeared to be providing the 'contestants' with laminated A4 printouts of on one side, the union jack, on the other, the Australian jack, or whatever its called, and asked them to rotate them in order to illustrate, in a manner which is stimulating, where they would live the rest of their lives, which by proxy of this peak, would never again be so exiting or important as the moment they gripped that laminated card.
In another bizzare twist of televisual events, Channel 4 paid, for the second time in my recent history, for a taxi for me today, to get home from the hospital at which I was this time holidaying in more urgently.  A man approached me, when I was full of  pain and asked me to be filmed. So they filmed me, for 3 hours, in agony on a bed. Brilliant TV huh?
Which leads us round about to this point - I have spent a lot of time this week at the rather cack-hands of the NHS, whose system due to its semi privatisation is falling to peices around good staff members. This government is royally fucking everyone and everything.  I'm sure you read the news as much as me in regards to the recent hillarious yet useless slapping downs it's received over the past weeks, at the same time as my peers are getting dragged to court on big charges as absurd as 'carrying a replica firearm' - read, a girl with a waterpistol full of paint.
Fuck the lot, fuck pleading guilty and this awful sadistic deference we are being forced into showing for a Crown and system of governance that has done little but abuse is its entire incarnation. We're not guilty of anything, and we (I borrow) never sought out to exploit another, those smarmy bastards would steal from their mother.
Here's a joke so old, so far back down a list of insults you wont remember it, it still looks funny though..

We're walking in the air

To be read to this:

Christ alive. That's depressing isn't it? That's the sort of thing I have to walk past every day of my life.
Then take something like this.. I don't even know whose side I'm on.

I mean, it's soooo, sooooo easssssy to get down, because when you look around, well its basically like you've got dogshit in your eyes, and in your ears, and often, in your nose as well! isn't it? Hmm? Yes, you agree.

You see, the reason you are being treated to two entries in one day (hah) is that.. today is no ordinary day. Today I have basically found a cure to, if such a thing exists, depression.

Today I acted upon the sound endorsement of no less a man than actor Robert Lindsay, and purchased, for only one pound, some yellow glasses.  And basically, they make everything brilliant, here they are in action!

take for instance.... this;

Shite.

Brilliant!

it's like being on holiday, with them palm trees, isn't it? It's like being on telly, with that camera, what?
So next time you stub your toe, break your finger or get cirrocis of the liver, and your helpful doctor offers you anti-depressants, you can laugh, long and hard, right in their peculiar face.
In the meantime..