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Getting worse not better. Damn,
Trip to the doctor needed, except I hadn't registered at the local surgery. They need me to go in with ID, then they get me an appointment asap. It's tipping out there. Today I am not even leaving my dressing gown.
But I am in a grump because of this stupid illness, and am going to indulge myself. If there is one word I hate it's community. The only community I like is at Greendale. Jesus, communities are not nice. Communities wave pitchforks, pick on outsiders, communities inevitably fear unknowns, require a status quo and believe any old shite that pleases them. Fascism requires community, requires the individual to sublimate and align themselves entirely to a group consciousness or goal. Community is the mentality whereby the village child is favoured more than the gypsy child, and even in that tiny microcosm, some village children matter more than other village children. The community of pure equals is an interesting thing and I wonder if it has ever existed, but if we are dealing with known models, then community is neither safe nor just. What it is, is familiar. And hopeful.
Everything good that ever comes from humans is down to the choices of individuals. Which is why kindness is such a brave thing, and the kindness of many is an astonishing thing.
Modern zombie flicks are all about community gone bad. If you don't belong - as evidenced by thinking - they eat you. Actually they might eat you if you do belong. They might eat you because they revere you, because you are an enemy, because they are hungry... I don't know what ended cannibalism as a way of life, presumably an excess of food and individual revulsion, but there seems to be a real romanticism about the goodnessTM of community. Two weeks without food and they'll have all the goodness of the Wendol.
What's brough this on, apart from my sky rocketing temperature?
Bloody Anne with an E thats what. Why do I keep trying with this damned thing?
Yes, I love the original book and OK, the first two seasons were interesting if one just accepts that this is not a re-telling but an extrapolation; Anne of Woke Gables, Anne of MillenniumLea, or something. And why not? Why tell an already well-told story over again? Fair enough, search beyond the known, bring in new characters, new storylines. But it veers around like it doesn't know what to do with itself, lurching between harsh and twee. Once, in the book, Anne ties flowers round her hat. This momentary mention is grabbed by the script writers and stuffed full of story steroids, into an amazing talent whereby she creates extraordinary millinery decorations including little princess tiaras for the child of a tertiary character sprung from a secondary character in a plotline that has never was, who is dying of sepsis and they all chant beautiful prayers together in the garlanded garden of a local rich family. I was waiting for them to burst into Kumbaya while levitating towards heaven in the rapture. As it was, the lady with the sepsis drifts away into the light during the party. No such easy exit for the viewers.
And you can tell where you are because the word community is mentioned something like 5 times. We are on our way. It's just a matter of time before Anne of Green Zombies hits our screens, the heartwarming tale of an imaginative orphan adopted by Martha and Marilla Cuthbert of Prince Dedward Island, who comes to Green Gables only to find that nearby Avonlea holds a ritual every summer in which a child is sacrificed to the land. She tells the Cuthberts and her beloved school teacher, only to meet gentle remonstrations and to be told to curb that crazy imagination of hers. But of course she is completely right, and when she manages to escape the hideous ritual, the land takes its revenge, turning the people of Avonlea into zombies until she is trapped at Green Gables shooting her way out.
I'm telling you, it's a winner.
Trip to the doctor needed, except I hadn't registered at the local surgery. They need me to go in with ID, then they get me an appointment asap. It's tipping out there. Today I am not even leaving my dressing gown.
But I am in a grump because of this stupid illness, and am going to indulge myself. If there is one word I hate it's community. The only community I like is at Greendale. Jesus, communities are not nice. Communities wave pitchforks, pick on outsiders, communities inevitably fear unknowns, require a status quo and believe any old shite that pleases them. Fascism requires community, requires the individual to sublimate and align themselves entirely to a group consciousness or goal. Community is the mentality whereby the village child is favoured more than the gypsy child, and even in that tiny microcosm, some village children matter more than other village children. The community of pure equals is an interesting thing and I wonder if it has ever existed, but if we are dealing with known models, then community is neither safe nor just. What it is, is familiar. And hopeful.
Everything good that ever comes from humans is down to the choices of individuals. Which is why kindness is such a brave thing, and the kindness of many is an astonishing thing.
Modern zombie flicks are all about community gone bad. If you don't belong - as evidenced by thinking - they eat you. Actually they might eat you if you do belong. They might eat you because they revere you, because you are an enemy, because they are hungry... I don't know what ended cannibalism as a way of life, presumably an excess of food and individual revulsion, but there seems to be a real romanticism about the goodnessTM of community. Two weeks without food and they'll have all the goodness of the Wendol.
What's brough this on, apart from my sky rocketing temperature?
Bloody Anne with an E thats what. Why do I keep trying with this damned thing?
Yes, I love the original book and OK, the first two seasons were interesting if one just accepts that this is not a re-telling but an extrapolation; Anne of Woke Gables, Anne of MillenniumLea, or something. And why not? Why tell an already well-told story over again? Fair enough, search beyond the known, bring in new characters, new storylines. But it veers around like it doesn't know what to do with itself, lurching between harsh and twee. Once, in the book, Anne ties flowers round her hat. This momentary mention is grabbed by the script writers and stuffed full of story steroids, into an amazing talent whereby she creates extraordinary millinery decorations including little princess tiaras for the child of a tertiary character sprung from a secondary character in a plotline that has never was, who is dying of sepsis and they all chant beautiful prayers together in the garlanded garden of a local rich family. I was waiting for them to burst into Kumbaya while levitating towards heaven in the rapture. As it was, the lady with the sepsis drifts away into the light during the party. No such easy exit for the viewers.
And you can tell where you are because the word community is mentioned something like 5 times. We are on our way. It's just a matter of time before Anne of Green Zombies hits our screens, the heartwarming tale of an imaginative orphan adopted by Martha and Marilla Cuthbert of Prince Dedward Island, who comes to Green Gables only to find that nearby Avonlea holds a ritual every summer in which a child is sacrificed to the land. She tells the Cuthberts and her beloved school teacher, only to meet gentle remonstrations and to be told to curb that crazy imagination of hers. But of course she is completely right, and when she manages to escape the hideous ritual, the land takes its revenge, turning the people of Avonlea into zombies until she is trapped at Green Gables shooting her way out.
I'm telling you, it's a winner.
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