Since I had been having no end of trouble with my laptop and my friend Lu telling me it was a useless and utter pile of crap…I bought a new one while I have been here on vacation.
I am really pleased with my new computer. I decided once again to go with a compaq and was even told that I made a mistake buying the one I did, but I am finding it great and not having any major challenges so far.
Fantastic day today for the Brits in the Olympics with Kelly Holmes taking the gold in the 1500 meters.
I only wish that I was on the ship to cheer her on with the other Brits.
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My brother introduced me to the word Chav. I had never heard the word before, but it seems it a new word to describe Neds, Townies, Kevs, Charvers, Steeks, Spides, Bazzas, Yarcos, Ratboys, Kappa Slappers, Skangers, Scutters, Janners, Stigs, Scallies, Hood Rats, whatever you know them as!! Ged told me to check out Chav Scum and it’s extremely entertaining. Here’s what it says about our some Britain’s biggest Celebrity Chavs…Vicky & Dave…
“Aah Posh and Becks, the quintessential celebrity chavs! David has that whole wigga thing going on and can barely string a legible sentence together. Victoria is a fashion cloths horse, giving the average chavette an idea of what snide designer wear to buy at the market! Look up the term ‘media whores’ in the dictionary and you’ll see their picture. The godheads of Chav culture!”
DANCERS cavorted in army battledress, Madonna stepped up in flatteringly-tailored fatigues and the screens flashed up unsettling images of explosions and middle Eastern children lying injured. Then a strange procession strutted the long gantries suspended over the audience - a priest in red, a nun in a skimpy habit, a similarly saucy burqua-clad woman.
On stage, a soldier struggled to escape from a cage while the screen behind him showed a woman in flames, then a George Bush look-alike kissing a Saddam Hussein lookalike. What did it all mean? That war is bad? Or merely that, like a Madonna concert, war is spectacular?
There was no explanation from the singer, nor any in the lyrics to the song this garish sequence illustrated, American Life. In the absence of such explanation, the juxtaposition of images of suffering with high-camp showmanship seemed not just empty but distasteful. But perhaps we should only ever expect Madonna to confound us. After all, she had already told us in song “I’ve had so many lives since I was a child” as the greatest self-publicist of her age delivered up the implausibly-titled Nobody Knows Me.
Re-Invention What we got, a neat 20 years on from her rise to fame and also from her first UK appearance at Manchester’s Hacienda club, was a two-hour greatest hits show.
There were great moments - Madonna singing Frozen, alone on a stage swathed in dry ice, the taut electro-funk of Die Another Day and Music, the huge singalong to Like A Prayer, a guitar-toting Madonna doing a rockier version of Material Girl and the kilted dance sequence to Into The Groove.
There were skateboarders, trapeze artists and dancers galore. From throwing her first acrobatic shapes to Vogue, it was obvious that Madonna, 46 on Monday, is in fabulous shape, managing to combine the jobs of singing and dancing better than performers half her age.
This show was tremendously well-crafted, put perhaps also somewhat calculated and soulless. The most genuinely thrilling moment came during the last number, Holiday, when a blizzard of red and white confetti was blown into the audience. Ah, I thought, so that’s where all the ticket money went.
I had a lie in this morning and loaded up the car and headed south on 101 to Los Angeles. I had quite a lot of difficulty getting a room but finally found a Best Western quite near LAX. Road Trip over.
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