Archive for December, 2010

WikiLeaks: The Musical

I spent Christmas in a somewhat sad old hotel on the coast of Mallorca with my girlfriend. Every evening the lobby bar filled up with a small number of European misfits, who sat glumly smoking and drinking.

We ventured out on bicycles during the day, and in the evenings we lounged around our room watching films dubbed into German. For some reason the ABBA musical ‘Mamma Mia!’ played two evenings in a row, along with a documentary about the rise and fall of ABBA. The decline of ABBA is punctuated by a number songs that apparently mirror the divorces between band members Anni and Benny, then later Björn and Agnetha. In the video for ‘The winner takes it all” a doe-eyed Agnetha sings to the camera, such that you suspect bloody Björn got the house, the kids and the holiday villa in Mallorca, and she got nothing but a few bedazzled gold jump suits.

I suspect, however, now that poor old Julian Assange awaits imminent extradition to Sweden, the world might be somewhat skeptical about how defenseless Swedish women really are. It seems that they are able to enlist international police agencies to prosecute men who have contravened the unwritten rules of dating. In order to defend himself and pay for his spiraling legal costs the WikiLeaks champion has recently sold the book rights to his life for over 1 million dollars. Even so, this may well not be enough money to save him.

It has occurred to me that being removed to Sweden may be beneficial Julian. Benny and Björn are probably looking a new project to follow up the success ‘Mamma Mia!’ . While WikiLeaks: The musical may seem like an odd concept, I think it could be absolutely huge. But please Julian, don’t cast Piers Brosnan.


Last night I found myself caught up in a dangerous intrigue. My girlfriend and I were working on some form of industrial espionage
job. We were tracking down a source of information, and found ourselves in a large glass skyscraper looking for the next clue. I was
waiting in the lobby for my baby to finish her work, when I realized she was in trouble, she had been betrayed by my old friend Tim.

The dream then segued into a scene in which we had caught Tim and his colleagues. There were three of them; Tim, a blonde woman and an
Indian man. We had them tied up in the courtyard of a beach house. My girlfriend was measuring the shapes of their heads with a complicated device. This information was somehow needed to solve the next stage of the puzzle. I was livid, and I warned them that if they tried to interfere with our investigation I would cause them unimaginable pain. When I looked away the blonde woman wriggled across and kicked some plugs out of the machine. I walked into the beach house and returned with a hammer. I then proceeded to smash her bottom jaw into a pulp.

I awoke feeling very strange.

Rubber Mallet

As I walked to work this morning, I encountered two German men attempting to retrieve their change from a parking machine with a rubber mallet. I watched them taking turns in striking the sides of the machine and then vigorously shaking it, and several things occurred to me.

Firstly, The age old principle of tuning a machine through physical coercion is thriving, in spite of the fact that the majority of the machines are no longer mechanical. Perhaps these two fellows were correct in their diagnoses, that the subzero temperatures had merely frozen together the mechanical parts responsible for returning the change. However, my suspicion is that their rubber mallet comes out of the trunk of their car regardless of the problem that needs to be solved.

As the two fellows merrily bashed the side of the machine, a third individual watched them from the side of the street. He lent on his shovel, taking a break from his efforts to clear the snow from the footpath. After a while he called out to them, ‘wieviel schulde es ihr?’, and he laughed heartily.

In spite of the irrationality of this behavior, we seem to take joy in watching these random acts of violence against machines. I imagine that it will be for this exact reason that we will be annihilated by an army of sentient parking machines.

Better grab your rubber mallets, the machines are coming.

Ctrl Z

There is almost nothing in my life that I would like to undo, even if I could. Which is not to say that I have not made mistakes. Just that I don’t know who I would be if I hadn’t made them.

Those few moments which I would undo are captured in high definition video and stored in my subconscious. Some nights my mind takes them off the shelf and feeds them into my dreams, bringing me repeatedly to the same point in time and preventing me from taking any other course of action.

Last night I didn’t sleep well, again.

The Social Network

Last night I found myself in an alternate universe in which I was living in a college share house with my old colleagues Mark and Nathan. It looked a little like the dormitory from The Social Network, but neither of those guys look (or act) like Zuckerberg. We were having a long geeky discussion on the merits of php. I think this component of the dream was inspired by the quote I read from Eben Moglen that facebook is just “some PHP doodads”. I am kind of freaked out though, that my subconscious wove together these themes and then stuck Mark and Nathan in there.

Anyway. The evening in this alternate universe passed with drinking and geeky discussions and the dream segued to morning. I awoke to discover that the bastards had conspired to get up before me and eat all the good breakfast stuff. As I woke up (in this universe) I was still peering into a fridge full of half eaten meals, and grumbling to myself about the fact that they never left me enough space for my stuff.