Life

April 24, 2018

The Pop! Vinyl Takeover

The four building blocks of the universe are fire, water, gravel and vinyl.

–Dave Barry

Somehow, I doubt Mr. Barry was talking about this type of vinyl. The Funko Pop! Vinyl figures,  an explosive range of models of society’s favourite fictional and non-fictional characters, do, however, seem to be holding up a corner of the world. You can instantly tell if something is ridiculously popular if people begin treasuring them on their shelves as mint-in-box. People are doing that with these Pop! Vinyl figures, as they are doing it with Nintendo Amiibo figures.

 

Collectors of these plastic, bobbly-headed beings span the globe – there is a man in Dubai who has collected over 600 of them, all methodically lined up on his shelf. He has all sorts – common ones, rare ones, big ones, tiny ones.

Pop figures

How many do you recognise? Me, I only care for the blond one over his right shoulder…

There are two main problems with these Pop! Vinyl figures that I can think of. The first problem is their title of a ‘figure.’ Consider the other times you may have heard the word ‘figure’ and the connotations that word brings.

An action figure is the first thing that comes to my head. A five-moving-parts toy that could be chucked from a fifth storey window into an empty bird table and live to tell the tale. A heavy Action Man who you attach a sheet of paper to in your expectation it will act as a parachute. The slender Barbie whose limbs you can break off. The massive-headed Bratz dolls whose feet you could take off. These three examples of figures have 500% more moving parts than the Pop! Vinyl. If you are lucky, the head will bobble a little. That is the Pop! Vinyl figure’s only source of locomotion.

Continuing on, they are rather brittle little things. I personally have two figures, one little keychain of Thor, and a regular-sized figure of Thor. Both these Marvel’s Thors are in rather volatile positions. One crashes against my rucksack constantly, and the other stands overlooking a vertiginous precipice. Should Big Thor fall off, his top-heavy head would smash into the washing machine below… a very embarrassing death for the God of Thunder. At first glance, this, perhaps, does not seem like it would break a figure… but it did. There is now a tasty crack in the top right hand side of Thor’s head.

If anyone asks, I will tell them he got a bit too excited with his hammer.

The small figure has not fared much better. Being attached to a keychain, he has saved himself from the humiliating fall that his bigger clone took, but the Little Thor has demonstrated to me the issues with the paint. Having only had him on my bag for a few months, I realised his horrifying, ash-pit eyes – the main selling point of any Pop! Vinyl figure – had been partially scraped off by the everyday goings on of my rucksack. Little Thor is now blind and, in an effort to maintain the feeling that I did not waste £10 on the little bastard, he now lies safely in a drawer.

Although… in considering my second complaint about these figures, perhaps it is a good thing Little Thor is blind.

This Dubai man who collects the figures, Aaron White, stands with his back to them in the picture. As we should have learned from dealing with other predators, especially pack-hunters like these figures, you should never turn your back.

These little things are hungry. Their eyes confirm their ravenous natures. Their eyes, free from sclera and iris, are fully pupil. Cats’ pupils expand when they are on the hunt, so what can we say about these eyes?

As with any good predator, the figures are intelligent, more so than their prey. Walk around any town, you will find at least five stores where they are sold. Their appealing guises – Harry Potter figures, Marvel figures, Game of Thrones, animes, cartoons – draw in the eye of the fan. And when their black eyes make contact with yours… when they personify themselves to resemble something vaguely humanoid and cute, you fear to leave their presence.

You must buy them. Out comes the wallet and in goes the boxed figure into your bag. Safe and sound, it is now yours! Or so you think… in reality, you are a slave to the figure, it has you exactly where it needs you. You will take it home and eagerly unwrap the thing, removing it from its plastic prison. Little do you know that you have not freed a kind figure that will give you joy, but you have released an unfeeling devil into your house.

Put it on a shelf, and declare that shelf your “Pop! Vinyl shelf” because you will certainly collect more.

Pop1

After all, you couldn’t leave poor little Thor all alone, could you? He needs a friend – a Loki, a Stark, perhaps another Thor from another movie. Besides… the novelty of Thor alone will wear off in ten to fifteen minutes anyway. As soon as you unwrap him, the decline begins and soon the pleasure of Thor’s presence shoots down.

You need another.

And so, the next time you come across an overflowing mound of them, franchise after franchise bunched together, you pick up one, or perhaps two. Bring them home, enjoy them for ten minutes, and set them up beside Thor.

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Dangerous move.

Pop! Vinyl figures are not solitary creatures. They hunt best in packs. One set of black eyes floating quietly in your room is unlikely to affect you. But now you have two pairs, or three. Exponentially, their power grows stronger.

With their eyes of pupil, they will never stop staring at you. Forwards, sideways, it matters not where you go.

Will they attack? Or will they wait until you buy more? After all… three is a collection. You officially collect them now. Plus… well, you can’t have Thor and Loki without Odin can you? And you can’t have Tony without Bruce or Steve, and you simply must get the Iron Man version of Tony, and the other versions of Tony from all the other movies… so many Pop! Vinyls to get, so little time!

And you will keep opening that wallet, spending that money, setting up your vinyls and achieving an addict’s high for a few minutes… and your collection will grow. Just as Mr. White trawled conventions for his rare Big Bang Theory figures, you will become as obsessive.

Within the article, Mr. White reveals the proof of their hypnosis: “But I’m never going to sell them because they all hold a special place for me.” He is completely under their spell, and such a strong spell it will be. He has over 600 of these figures, that is over 1200 eyes staring at him… constantly.

The Funko Pop! Vinyl hunt began when Mr. White picked up his first figure. And the hunt has begun on me, too, with my two Thors. And, if you have any figures, you are also the prey.

The prey for their bottomless hunger. Stuck inside their inanimate plastic shells, their wait is finally over. This is the Pop! Vinyl takeover. It may already be too late. We will all be collecters. We will all submit to their gazes. We will strengthen them and weaken ourselves.

This is the Pop! Vinyl takeover.

November 10, 2017

Could it get Worse? – On Writers

Put your vocabulary on the top shelf of your toolbox, and don’t make a conscious effort to improve it.

-Stephen King, On Writing

I quote Stephen King here because I’ve somewhat stolen his title. It’s very similar, at least. Though where my content will differ to King’s how-to-write book is in its truth; King talks in half-baked analogies. I tell things as they are.

I’m going to talk about writers.

Have you ever been in a room with a group of writers talking about writing? I have. I do this weekly, in my Creative Writing seminars for University. Before my university life began, though, I had a rather inflated sense of the worth of my writing. I thought to myself, “I have seven years experience! This course will be a breeze.” I, rather naïvely, thought that I had the far superior hand in that room. My opinion has changed.

I now cherish modesty.

And I don’t mean false modesty. Ask me, “How do you think your writing is?” seven months ago, and I’d have shrugged and said, “I think it’s okay. I’m reasonably experienced.”

Ask me now, I’ll go, “You tell me. You’re the reader.”

However, I’m not here to quote literary critics at you (notably, Foucault and Barthes in relation to the point of the reader); I’m here to talk about writers.

I’ve been in 6 seminars now, for Creative Writing. And something I cannot ignore is how… pompous writers are. Every time a writer talks, he talks with a royal ego. He talks as if we care. I have news for you, mate, we don’t care. I can’t even pretend to be excited at your plotline for your story, not at all. E-mail it to me. Because when you speak to me about it, you get that little half-smile as if you’re embarrassed, but you continue to describe everything in relentless detail.

Do me a favour and keep it to yourself.

Even the phrase, “I’m a writer,” I find annoying. What do you think someone is going to say upon you telling them that? “Oh, really? What do you write? Tell me more! Tell me everything!”

No one will respond like that. It’s because your writing only interests you. I learned that very quickly. I asked myself, “Why is no one reading my Wattpad stories?” and, after being in those 6 seminars, I realised why; no one fucking cares.

It’s so arrogant to just, “be a writer,” I feel. 98% of the population want to write a book, but few of them ever do it. That’s 98% of the population that can say, with a smug grin on their lips, “I’m a writer,” as if we should actually give a shit. I don’t give a shit.

I only care if you’re better than I am.

Actually, let me examine myself. I did so earlier. I’ve definitely said to people, “I’m a writer,” and expected them to care. Occasionally, people do ask me what I write. Perhaps they’re a colleague and they’re bored, so they might as well listen to what I have to say. Perhaps they want to be your friend so they’ll lend you an ear for a minute or two.

What I have discovered, though, is that people stop listening long before the self-titled “writer” realises. When the writer gets onto talking about, “So my first book is about a girl who saves a dragon from a car compactor, and the dragon is actually from another dimension, and it’s kind of sci-fi fantasy,” I can’t listen past the word “first”. I sit there and wish it to be over. It’s sort of like when people talk to you about their dreams. You’re an amateur writer, sit on your skinny arse and shut up.

I sound a little pompous myself, I’m aware. Telling people what they should and shouldn’t do. But it’s what I feel. I examine my own writing and, now that part of my ego has been stripped away simply by university, I can identify my writing as… nothing special. I’m nothing special.

You are also nothing special.

Next time you want to say something “as a writer” just be aware you sound smug to the other person. I’ve said “as a writer.” I said it in Buttons and Anal Potato Prints and I know I’ll say it again. It’s impossible not to if you want to give an opinion as someone who creates prose for fun, for a living, or for a hobby. If you create prose, you’re a writer. But being a writer doesn’t make you special.

No one wants to know your characters, your plots, your worlds. Don’t talk like they do. I guarantee you people are bored.

I want to return to King’s book, just one more time, because I want to make the extra point that how-to-write books are often garbage. King’s is, and the other two I have are. One of them is a required reading for my Creative Writing course (I won’t name it now… I have an article to write on it separately). The other I accumulated about a year ago because the title made me laugh: How Not to Write a Novel (Sandra Newman and Howard Mittelmark). They are garbage for the same principle that writers are pompous.

Namely, the writers of these books are so pompous that they think others have to learn from their immense knowledge. I warn you; if you read King’s On Writing because you want to learn how to write, you’ll talk like King. And that is not a good thing. As a writer, (so soon!) you want to find your own voice, your own style, your own narratives. Don’t write like King, for God’s sake. Find your own damn voice.

Just don’t assume people want to fucking hear it.

January 20, 2017

Could it Get Worse? – Mono More Problem

As if these last few months haven’t been hellish enough, what with an orgy of celebrity deaths and one certain businessman being given a country as if it’s a board game, we have to ask… Could it get worse?

Well, as with all questions like that, of course it can. And, if these last few months weren’t bad enough, there’s one issue clouding Facebook like no other and it’s really depressing and bad. It’s nothing to do with the latest animal that’s gone extinct, political scandals or the gripping top keks that have spilled onto one of the front pages of the internet, it’s to do with…

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Monopoly pieces! My heart cannot take much more of this! What if the dog goes – I always liked the dog – or the top hat? The top hat is literally my favourite item of attire at the moment and I have two myself. But, fortunately, you can vote to save your favourite piece from being wiped out of the game completely! Whew! Thank you Jesus.

The instructions are all presented in a video. How modern and convenient, certainly not in the style of Monopoly, where modernisms and conveniences were replaced with Piccadilly being somewhere people want, and Community Chest cards existing. All you have to do to understand how to save your precious darling piece is to survive through the video as someone with this face is giving you the facts:

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Terrifying.

Now, there are, by my count, three ways a person could take this news: 1) “I must rescue my dear Boaty McBoatface from the grips of the wastepaper basket by casting my oh-so-precious vote forth into the running!” 2) “They’re changing the game pieces thereby ruining the sanctity of one of the most successful board games of all time?! Travesty!” or 3) “Seriously though. Who gives a single shit.”

I fall into the third category (though I’m sure my flawless acting above persuaded you otherwise), because I really don’t see this as an issue. I have an old Monopoly set in the games cupboard right here at my house. I won’t be buying another set just to use a hashtag (a fucking hashtag) to pass GO. And anyway, whenever I play a board game, I usually use my own trinkets on the board – a little Lego Dobby figure for example – because I find it really adds a touch of me to the game. So why do people think it’s such an important and momentous occasion that they feel the need to share the article from The Sun about it?

I truly have no idea about that. So, instead of being so negative about it, let’s try to see this in a positive light – let’s dissect the contenders for the new Monopoly!

First, the categories. The very first category is ‘Animals’ which they’ve already clearly screwed up, as the cat apparently isn’t an animal in the eyes of the high-and-mighty board game creators. No, a cat represents ‘Social Media’.

Social Media. In a board game. Is it just me who thinks that those two things are pretty much polar opposites? I can only imagine the winces of shame family members will give each other when they see their #NoFilter daughter moving around a hashtag piece, or a thumbs-up piece.

But what’s this? The computer piece isn’t in ‘Social Media’. It’s in the ‘Inventions’ category. If I had to choose, I’d put the computer in the ‘Social Media’ category.. Yes, the computer is an invention, but if you’re going to be pedantic, you may as well put the very first computer in as a piece, instead of a modern flat monitor to represent it. After all, one of the other pieces is a wooden-strutted wheel, not a tyre. Now also might be the time to complain that I cannot make out what half of the so-categorised ‘Inventions’ are. The picture is the exact size I originally saw, and I have no idea what the first and second contenders are. It could be a camera and a gnome for all I know.

Moving onto another category then, to save from moaning forever about the point of there being pieces unfathomable to the eye, let’s look at the ‘Footwear’ category. And – brilliant! – we can swap a boot for four other boots! What a great use of my precious time on this finite Earth. Though that rollerskate is actually kind of interesting. But, again, I’d classify that as more of an ‘Invention’ than everyday footwear like that trainer. But still, it’s worn by a foot, so I won’t complain.

It seems to me that the ‘Footwear’ category is the category with the most amount of vision. Because one of the categories features things that ‘Float’. Not boats, no. Things that ‘Float‘. That is quite a wide range of things. From sticks to cadavers, lots and lots of things float. But they’ve gone with a rubber duck (actually kind of cute), a surfboard and a Polo mint. Oh, no. Sorry. Not a Polo mint. My mistake. An inner tube. Because I totally want to be squeaking around the board with an inner tube. At least then the Waterworks lot will make a slight bit more sense. Maybe.

Oh I just noticed something. Once again, they’ve gone completely off-track with their categories. There is a separate category for ‘Fashion’. If I had to create these categories, I’d go with ‘Headgear’ myself. I can think of seven different styles of headgear, aside from the classic top hat (bowler, snapback, flat cap, sombrero, earmuffs, arrow-through-head-gag Donald Trump’s hair) but apparently they decided to confuse us mere consumers by separating ‘Fashion’ and ‘Footwear’. Baffling. That M looking thing, what is that? It could be some sort of Monopoly-related belt buckle idea, but I’m just confused at how you’re supposed to play with it. One of the joys of Monopoly was that the pieces were interesting, 3D little models. That one looks like you just have to lie it down and nudge it with your fingernail. That’s not fun.

The same goes for some pieces in the other categories. Playing as the goldfish, for example, you might be able to prop your piece up on the goldfish’s fins. But that pocketwatch looks far from stable. The moped looks a bit haphazard as well, but at least it has a cute little stand.

Speaking of the moped, at least it fits into the ‘Transport’ category (are boats not transport too? Eh, we had that discussion). Unlike that plane. Not because it’s a plane. But because, in the picture, it honestly looks more like a whale. But I’d prefer it was a whale – I like whales. I’d play as a whale. Buy up all the stations and change the name of the Underground to the Underwater. But that’s just me.

This leaves us with just one more category to look at – the ‘Historical’ category. For the most part, I think the pieces in the ‘Historical’ category all look the part. But maybe I’m just missing the Iron that, quote, “was replaced by a cat … In 2013” (From The Sun’s article). But I really think the gramophone or the bathtub could make good pieces. They have the gravitas that things like the hashtag and the Tyrannosaurus Rex just don’t possess.

Yes, as you can see, there’s a T-Rex in the mix. I wanted to avoid mentioning it. A Scottie dog, a famous Monopoly piece, has reason to be in London, where Monopoly is set. The inclusion of the T-Rex just tells me the creators just don’t care about their product anymore. If you’re going to put in a T-Rex, at least put it in ‘Historic’. Save us all the depression.

Ah but, I can’t just complain about all the other pieces without telling you which one I’d play with. It’s a tough choice – in traditional Monopoly I always chose the dog because… it was a dog. I like dogs, Westies are my favourite breed and Scottie dogs are close enough to make me happy. But, which piece would I play with today, out of all the choices I have?

The answer, to me, is simple.

My little Lego Dobby, of course.

November 11, 2016

The Art of Bullshitting

There are several slices of knowledge you need if you are to be successful in any job, education or even in your love life. Obviously, you need to know what you’re doing – if you’re writing an essay for university, you need to know the subject inside and out. English? You must know about Dante or Chaucer or Orwell. History? As long as you’ve studied every revolution, uprising and can regurgitate dates, you’re good. In an interview you need to know how to apply and sell yourself.

Or do you?

Well, no. Not really. All you need to do is know how to bullshit. And bullshitting is an art form all of its own.

Let’s take the education example again. I myself went through my last two years of school doing nothing but essays. I’d taken three essay subjects, English, History and Psychology (never take more than two essay subjects, the wrist cramp is unreal). And, for each of them, I quickly discovered that bullshitting was an incredibly important skill I had to learn.

Rather than cramming facts about Geoffrey Chaucer or Toni Morrison, or delving deep into information about the Reserve Police Battalion 101, or developing ways to recall names of Psychologists, I… did nothing. I had better things to do.

But, fortunately, my Bullshit Skill was high by that point. By simply reading the textbooks, I realised just how little you had to actually know. Of course, some knowledge was required, but nowhere near as much as people expected me to learn.

The basic principle of bullshitting is “sounding good”. If you start talking like you know, even if you don’t, that’s an excellent basis. Easier said than done, obviously. So let me tell you how to bullshit.

What you do with this knowledge, in a job or at school, will be invaluable if you memorise it. So listen up.

1) Use long and semi confusing words – Right, time to right-click and hover over the “Synonyms” option. What you want to do here is to write words that people just about know. Words such as “synonymous” or “expendable” always work well and look good. Use words that are too odd and people will know you used a thesaurus. With this, you will seem confident and in control of your essay, job interview or scientific paper.

2) Write mostly in compound sentences – Simple sentences just won’t cut it in these circumstances. To bullshit, to show your confidence, you want to express yourself in long, flowing sentences. Don’t talk matter-of-fact. Explain, use those tricky little connectives. Elaborate, no matter what. You have to put those impressive words somewhere.

3) What to say – I can tell you all I want to use long and clear sentences, to use left-field words, but what can you actually write? Of course, you’ll need to know something about the subject. But there is no call for you to learn more than the bare minimum.

Let’s take an example – I know nothing about the process making shoes, or cobbling, but I’ll bullshit a short paragraph about it.

In order to create a comfortable shoe, the spread of the foot must be known. The natural shallow arch of the foot must be supported by the sole, so the moulding of the rubber sole must be thicker on one side. As a result, the mass placed upon the foot will be genuinely supported and therefore be comfortable.

That wasn’t so hard. And do I know anything about shoes, or the making of them? No. Am I certain that information is correct? No. In fact I think it’s incorrect. But what I’ve said makes sense, and I believe I’ve said it pretty convincingly.

That’s all that’s important to remember when bullshitting. You don’t need to learn what they say you need to. Nope. Just bullshit. It’s much easier.

And it works. I did it all through sixth form, and I’ve got my ABB grades needed to get into university next year.

So, final line. Go bullshit; cutting corners ain’t so bad.

October 2, 2016

1 – The Art of…

Her fingers were wet. From the instant she touched the inside, she felt warmth flow through her digits. She exhaled, stroking the edges, fingertips becoming softer and more lax with each movement. As she got more frantic, her breathing became slightly faster, and she pushed her hand in further, releasing the warm fluid in a rapid movement. She sighed, satisfied, and took her hands away. The girl released the now-clean mug where it fell into the washing-up bowl, clattering against other crockery as it sank.

I bet you thought I was writing about something else, didn’t you?

But no. I recently began working at a café. One of my preferred duties is to do the washing up, as it lets me escape the responsibility of competence. With a big tub of dirty mugs, there is no reason for me to talk to anyone. I can simply wash and let my brain simmer.

As I was revelling in my solitude one afternoon, I realised just how erotic the washing of a mug truly is. Perhaps not sexually thrilling – though feel free to ask Rule 34 on that particular enquiry, I for one am not brave enough to – but certainly… comparable.

Let’s start with the overall art of washing a mug. You caress the edges and inside of the china with a cloth, sponge or other soft material. Your fingers wind around the handle, spiral down into the receptacle, and pull out, bringing with them water. The harder you thrust your fist in, the more likely you will feel the squirt of warmth up your wrist.

If we now compare the mug to other pieces of dinnerware, we might again see a connection. A plate, bowl or other open piece is rather less fun to experiment with. They simply require a round-and-round style cleaning pattern and rinse. A glass can give you the same sort of enjoyment as a mug, but it depends on the shape and pattern of the glass. If you have a quick look in your glasses cupboard, you’ll probably see about five or six different styles of glass. But a mug… a mug shares the same qualities as most other mugs. Simple, cylindrical, sort of innocent.

A glass can hold intoxicating alcohol; beers, wines, spirits, all are fair game for a glass. But a mug? No, that would rarely hold any sort of spirit. Mugs are designed for the pleasures of a warm fire, a soft blanket and a loved one cuddled up beside you. Mugs are designed for hot chocolate and coffee, simpler pleasures in life, everyday soothers.

Just as a quiet girl will provide the same sexual pleasure as a loud-and-proud girl, there’s something more alluring about her. It’s seen in every television series – the outwardly sexual and sexy girl that gets the guys’ attentions. But it is the girl at the back, the one hiding behind her stereotype glasses and block fringe, that would be much more fun to experiment with. She would cast aside those specs, sweep her hair over her shoulder, and reveal herself, showing a different and sexy side to her.

It is the same with a mug. The simple cylinders that are always quietly there, sitting on the side or hung up on hooks, simply waiting for their time to come.

Therefore, causing a mug to squirt is infinitely more erotic than causing a glass to do the same thing.