Marie and I were at an Andreas Scholl concert today. A review will follow, but the big surprise of the day was our realisation that Andreas Scholl has multiple voice talents. Not only is he a marvellous countertenor and an ok barytone – he is also behind the voices of Stewie and Peter Griffin (e.a.) of Family Guy. He masters the American accent to perfection – and the British accent of Stewie. Don’t get confused about the woman, just press play.
Just kidding of course. But the resemblance between Seth Macfarlane, creator of Family Guy and Andreas Scholl is in some instances striking. Just a reminder:
And while we’re at it, I have to post this clip from Family Guy. I love Stewie.
We’re rude to the…the other people. 😀
To see more of Stewie drunk go here.
Last week I joined in a debate at our very dear reader Silke’s blog, about exported German words, and I mentioned the word “doppelgänger” which is used in the English language, as an example of such a word.
Incidentally, I came across the picture of a woman yesterday who appears to be exactly that, my doppelgänger! And to makes things even stranger, she’s German. At least I think she is – her picture is found among the pictures from last month’s Bohéme party at Berlin nightclub Oxymoron, which my friend Natascha attended.
Now, I’m trying to remain calm about this, but to be honest I find it to be more than a little freaky. This brown-haired, decadently smoking young woman is practically a dead ringer for me! Here she is again, seen from a different angle, but not looking any less like me:
Frea.ky. I even had that haircut once. And I’ve got a hat that’s very much like the one she’s wearing, as seen here (as to why I’m pushing a litter bin underneath a 19th-century-style frieze… we’ll get back to that some other time. Long story).
Anyway, since I believe very firmly in the power of the internet, I’d like hereby to put a request out there: Who is this woman who looks so much like me? Are you her? If you are, leave a comment! 😀 I’d love to say hi and find out if you share my crush on Joaquin Phoenix, my love of opera, and my complete and utter lack of skills when it comes to anything practical. Or maybe just to exchange solemn oaths with you never to let each other get dragged into court for each other’s misdemeanours or to take over each other’s personal lives, soap-opera style.
Yesterday Marie and I, not being in New York, went to the cinema to see the recent production from The Met of Tchaikovsky’s Eugen Onegin with Renée Fleming, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, and Ramon Vargas. But since it’s Sunday night and I’m just not going to do anything serious the review will have to wait and instead I bring you this:
Sheep with accordeons? And what is it with American kids and their learning to count? Look here too.
Well, I think it’s hilarious and it just makes me adore Renée Fleming. Even more. She sang with the Muppets…what’s more to say?
Words cannot express how badly I want this:
Because Bach is so totally my homeboy! He’s da man. I’d wear it for Christina Bjørkøe piano recitals and such.
And if I ever have a baby, it will be wearing this:
alternately with this:
(Or this. But only if it’s a boy, of course.)
Now all I need is to find a set of “La Povera Mia Cena Fu Interotta”-place mats, and I can die a happy woman. Seriously.
* Items courtesy of cafepress.com (search for “opera” and “johnny cash”), and the official Johnny Cash homepage.
I love the internet.
Sometimes I think I love it too much.
I spend a lot of time online, much of which I should have spent doing regular, useful things such as, say, studying. Or tidying up my room. Or figuring out how to get set the clock on my DVD-player. Things like that. However, more than often I come across some absolutely awesome findings that convince me that all that time I tend to waste surfing the internet is totally worth it after all!
One of these things is Amy’s Diary. It’s a creation by the inventor of the famous (and equally awesome) 30-second bunny reenactments, and it features animated and narrated enactments of one Amy Fordstadt’s third-grade diary from 1977-78. If you haven’t already seen this, I can definitely recommend it! It’s an incredible mixture of the infinite entertainment that is a young child’s mind, and the retrospective toe-curling amusement of an adult.
My favourite? The November 2 entry in list-form. Anna and I have been known to go “ECT! ECT! ECT!” at the end of a rant after we discovered this entry. Although the November 21st entry is also quite outstanding with its foreshadowing themes of ambition and failure and man/woman dynamics within a relationship.
Not to mention the December 17 which, with its seemingly meaningless juxtaposition of a person named Karen’s party and a lot of screaming babies, has a kind of Allen Ginsberg-beat-poetry air to it.
Check it out! Embrace the infinte source of love that is the internet.
It’s always nice to find people who think like oneself. Anna and I have certainly found such a person in poster ‘Marky’ from the discussion board SoapChat, who has started this thread about pie in the Off-Topic section. Posting occassionally at the SoapChat-forum (one of my favourite hobbies being analysis of pop-cultural phenomena) I’ve always enjoyed Marky’s posts, but this definitely added to my respect for him. Marky obviously knows the everlasting truth: that all that is Pie is Gooooooood!
I particularly like his insisting mantra “MUST LIKE PIE!”, his recent inclusion of the mathematical ‘pi’, and the desperate love for Pie evident in his announcement: “Look, dammit. More frickin’ pie!”
The pastry dish that you must like…
A little quiz:
From which films are these quotes?
I ate his Pie with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
I like that one. It sort of de-grotesquefies the whole thing.
Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a Pie.
A Pie. Shaken, not stirred.
May the Pie be with you.
They may take away our Pie, but they’ll never take our freedom!
I have always depended on the kindness of Pie.
Me too, Blanche. Me too.
Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my Pie, in this life or the next.
This last one is related to this wonderful little sketch that Marie sent me the other day.
Need I remind you why we like the pie? Ok, then: because it’s goooood.
For a more extensive post on Mario Perniola and The Sex Appeal of the Inorganic, see this post .
I’ve got a presentation on Mario Perniola’s The Sex Appeal of the Inorganic in two days, which is very difficult stuff, and I’m a little stressed out about it, to tell you the truth. So what am I doing online, you ask? Well, I’m trying to lift my spirit by reminding myself of the value of a good education! And I’m doing this by repeatedly watching this absolutely awesome clip I found on youtube – a wonderful Sesame Street spoof on the song “Don’t take your guns to town” – here it is :
As Big Bird and Johnny Cash teach us in this little video, only tragic things come from strutting about in town, trying to show off accomplishments that you don’t really have. And what an important lesson that is. Personally, I’m going straight over to my desk right now to re-read those chapters in Perniola’s book I didn’t quite get after reading them just one time. There’s no way I’m going to take my ones to town and get laughed at by my fellow students on Friday.
Recently I was roaming youtube, searching for a video for Johnny Cash’s cover version of Sting’s “I hung my head”, wanting to listen to the song. I didn’t find any original video for the song, but instead I found something that really restored my faith in the Teenager d’Aujord’Hui, namely this:
This melted my heart, which is otherwise as hard and tough as an indiarubber ball. The video is just adorable! In a world where Paris Hilton releases records and Britney “pro-life/anti-baby seat” Spears is idolized, these three lovely teenage girls have decided to make a reenactment of a Johnny Cash song. I really love that, as well as the sense of humour and sincerity the girls display in the video. Too cute.
Yeah, I realize that I sound like that annoying old aunt we all had who would pat our heads at family-get-togethers, going “What a nice young girl you are, nothing like all those bullies who hang around in the streets”, but I don’t care. These girls are adorable. *pats their heads*
My favourite part? The bicycle getting up and rolling on by itself at the lyrics “The horse, he kept running”. Pure genius! Although the sheriff’s inquiring gesture at “The sheriff he asked me/why had I run” and the widow’s martyr-tear come pretty close.
I am obscenely busy these days (that is; very busy. Not busy doing obscene things.), but I thought I’d just stop by and share a little experience I had with you. You see, two days ago I got an e-mail from a friend – it was an e-mail that she had obviously gotten from another friend and had forwarded to me and all of her other female friends. The message of the e-mail was this:
“According to Police and Hostpital, a woman was abducted from a nightclub, raped several times and abandoned. She was incapable of remembering what had happened, but medical examinations betrayed the repeated rapes, and along with traces of Rophynol in her blood, Progesterex was also found, which is a small sterilisation pill. The drug is now being used by rapists at parties to rape and sterilize their victims. Progesterex is available to vets to sterilize large animals. Rumour has it that the Progesterex is being used together with Rohypnol, the date rape drug. As with Rohypnol, all they have to do is drop it into the girl’s drink. The girl will then be unable to remember any of the events that took place on the night before. Progesterex, which dissolves in drinks just as easily, is such that the victim doesn’t conceive from the rape, and the rapist needn’t worry about having a paternity test identifying him months later.
The drug’s effects are not temporary – they are permanent! Progesterex was designed to sterilize horses. Any female that takes it will never be able to conceive. The scoundrels can get this drug from anyone who is in the vet school of any university. It’s that easy, and Progesterex is very likely to become big in the night life. Incredible as it may sound, there are even sites on the internet, with instructions on how to use this drug. Please forwards this to everyone you know, especially girls. B careful when you’re out and don’t leave your drink unattended. Kindly share this with everyone you know, and guys – tell your lady friends. Kind regards, Bobby Knudsen.”
(There was then an address for this spokesperson who claimed to be from the security insurance company Falck, and two phone
numbers, his private and his work number were added.)
My initial reaction was one of pure terror. I felt chilled to the bone and was actually so startled that it took me several minutes to start considering the whole thing logically. Then, however, I started asking the questions that seemed ridiculously obvious. First of all: When has a rapist ever – since, like, the Middle Ages, that is – been identified by his victim having his baby? Thinking about it, of course I couldn’t remember a single case where a rape victim having a baby nine months after her assault as had been part of a potential police investigation. Medical examinations of the girl revealing semen etc. would give the rapist away long before a Rapist Jr. might do so, and really, in these days off free abortion and morning-after pills, how many women would carry a baby to term that was conceived as a result of rape anyway? For a rapist to fear such a thing would be completely out of the blue. And then there was the matter of this alleged employee at an insurance company, spreading the word via forwarded e-mails like chain letters. It did not seem quite credible to me that that would be the way the authorities would handle the situation, should a new and dangerous drug appear in night clubs. Surely the press and news agencies would be notified? So I did a few quick searches at the search engines of some news sites – with no results whatsoever on the word “Progesterex”. Fully convinced by now that this was a hoax, I did my last round of checking by going to snopes.com – the brilliant urban legend site that deals with the origins of urban legends – and sure enough; the “Progesterex” story has been popping up in people’s mailboxes online all over the world since 1999 with little or no varieties, and it is nothing but a hoax. There is no pill by the name of Progesterex, no veterinarians use pills as a means of sterilizing horses, and there have been no cases of rapists trying to sterilize their victims.