Ok, fair enough. I promised you a series of Oxford yarns all about the chaotic run-up to finals, my manic existence as a composite mind and I even mentioned Brideshead. Only to promptly run home. Fine. Sue me.
But, two interesting developments have surfaced in my sejour so far. One: Having sworn myself to the allegiance of Macdom (the computer/technology giant, not the burger chain), the depths of revision have seen the ugly head of a certain 1999 incarnation of the incredible gaming franchise that is... Age of Empires.
Yes, while the rest of the world huddles over its modem, wireless headset strapped to its frothing jaw, frantically ploughing through every level of World of Warcraft (LEEEEERRRRRROY JEEENNNNKINNNNS anyone? - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkCNJRfSZBU) a small elite group of nerds in the depths of Oxford has rediscovered the joys of 'The Age of Kings'. So much so that I've had to dig out an old laptop and restore it to its former glory just so I can get my act together on it.
Two: Music took a dual hit. The provider of that bass thudding voice, Nate Dogg passed away after a stroke. Minor news in a time dominated (and rightly so) by the events folding in Japan but still, very sad in its way for a lot of people, myself included, who just love every collaboration he was ever on.
Then there was this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2LRROpph0&feature=player_embedded#at=77
An abomination that has earned the catchy moniker of 'The Worst Song Ever' (and again, rightly so -although perhaps maybe not with as much respectable adequacy). Now, without question, it is one of the biggest piles of steaming musical excrement since The Crazy Frog and is the product of a culture so materialistic I hope it chokes on its own silicon implants. In fact, with the appearance of what can only be described as the most token rapper that has ever existed, midway through the song, I could hardly blame the guy who thought to enact some of Nate Dogg's most profound (this is ever so faintly tinged with irony by the way) lyrics, choosing to 'pull out my strap and lay them busters down.' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1plPyJdXKIY)
Which, kind of, brings me to the last thing I wanted to mention. A couple of days ago I read an article somewhere in The Times saying that on the latest episode of BBC Two's 'Wonders of the Universe', the audience had complained. Not for factual inaccuracy. Not even for its potentially anti-creationist stance. But because of it's music. Why? Had they browsed Slipknot's back catalogue and casually overlaid 'Wait and Bleed' to the remarkably insightful montage of Black Hole formation? Was 'Barbie Girl' just not an appropriate soundtrack for the formation of deep-space nebulae? None of these things. It was just a bit too loud.
Apparently, Professor Brian Cox's very well-produced programme's lightly techno music had just deafened listeners out of hearing all the lovely words he'd gone to the trouble of writing and saying. What junk, I watched it and it was all as clear as crystal. Never mind though, they turned the music down anyway and everyone was happy.
Except for Sarah Vine. Author of said article, ('No sex please, this is serious science' - The Times Wednesday March 16, 2011), Vine describes Prof. Cox as 'handsome' and as repeatedly 'flashing his white teeth in a carefree yet attractively wistful smile'; all of which is to make us believe that Cox's supposedly ecliptic ego and good looks threaten to overshadow the scientific content of a monumentally informative television programme. Science, like cookery (Nigella & Sophie Dahl), the news (Fiona Bruce) and everything before it, has become sexed up.
This is a show called Wonders of the Universe. The two episodes to go out so far have been called 'Destiny' and 'Stardust'. It specialises in taking broad theoretical concepts and making them palatable for a late night audience. From the sound of her article, Vine seems to resent the intrusion of Cox into her world of TV because, until he came along, she was seriously hoping to get a Ph.D in Astro-physics out of this.
Also, her main claim is based on the fact she just happens to simply adore 'wise old owl' figures, like Professor Heinz Wolff, whose clear lack of fashion/sanity/grounding in anything terrestrial is apparently an extra qualification in itself. Despite this, in the real world, the fact that PROFESSOR Brian Cox has had a music career does nothing to detract from his actual Ph.D from the University of Manchester. If anything, it makes him slightly more of a real person showing that, to be a member of CERN, you don't have to look like some sort of social aberration. What's more, the accusation that 'if a concept has to be dressed up as a super-sexy mountain-top thing, then it probably wasn't very thrilling in the first place' shows a fundamental misunderstanding of 1) Television 2) The Human attention span 3) Science and 4) Existence. Boiled down, Vine's complaint is nothing short of: 'The BBC are making science accessible and every time I see Brian Cox my loins tremble so violently I'm distracted from the screen. Bring back that nutter with the corduroys.'
So yes, Sarah darling, it might not be as in-depth as Horizon but, then again, it's not trying to be. Similarly, your own personal preference for presenters is just journalistic guff. I mean do you really care? I admit that I found Ben Miller slightly irritating in his episode of Horizon, but only because he was pretending to be inordinately thick so as to explain the principles of thermodynamics. If he'd just explained them in a simple fashion (like sexy, sexy Brian) I wouldn't have minded in the slightest. And even Brian I'm not really that attached to. I'm just an Arts student who gets their kicks by dabbling in Science for procrastinatory purposes.. Consequently, I find Sarah's self-righteous pretence of ego-lambasting a bit rich. Especially from someone whose professional authorial photo is clearly the least successful attempt at 'a carefree yet attractively wistful smile' since the Quasimodo Lookalike Society's annual reunion photograph.
So yeah.
RIP Nate Dogg.
Dodgson.
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