Maxfactor fesses up – kind of.
I saw a new Maxfactor ad on the telly and it made me crease. It was for a mascara and was pretty generic, catwalk, bulbs flashing, models pouting and applying. The fabulous thing about this ad was a discreet 2 second flash of these words on the corner of the screen “Enhanced in post production.”
Fairly cryptic to the non – media weary eye isn’t it? Were they referring to the massive amount of photoshopping perhaps?
What they should have wrote is: “Deluded mascara wearers of the world, the mascara will not make you have the same eye’s as this model, because, she doesn’t even have them. The magical pixel fairies created them with their photowand. Some pressure group made us tell you this. Buh Bye Sucker.”
They need to be doing this shit with all adverts purely for our amusement. Lynx should be next me thinks.
Blink and you might miss it…
Picture perfect. Google Love
I spent a couple of day’s fiddling around with on-line image host’s trying to share and upload some purdy pictures.
I ended up trying Photobucket and Flickr but I had a lot of grief because of bandwidth issues or something.
Four hours on and one major headache later, between the two site’s I had uploaded…wait for it…. 1 image.
In a last ditch attempt, I downloaded Picasa, which is Google’s foray into image management and it’s bloody awesome for a free piece of software.
It organises all your photo’s into one place at a click of a button, will reduce 9 megapixel images without losing quality and it even has basic editing capabilities.
The funny thing was, I had trawled the web for hours, looking for advice on which uploader to use, and not one mentioned Picasa which turned out to be my saviour.
Hook yo self up — > http://picasa.google.com/features/index.html
My new frency fancy. I’m sorry Yelle, it’s over.
Copyright - RosieRoguerre 2008
For those of you that read culturejamjar, you will know that I covered The Big Chill in Eastnor last weekend – http://culturejamjar.wordpress.com.
Leonard Cohen’s performance was by far the most moving, monumental even but I came away from the festival with a new french fancy by then name of Camille.
She bounced onto the stage rocking an orange poncho/smock giggling “Ello, I am the froggie” and then performed an quirky, funny and passionate set which included her beatboxing her openings and making a sea of people miaow and bark.
She’s been around for a while, but until Sunday was new to me, I would recommend going to see her play, she is a fabulous oddball.
The dark knight will have to wait.
This weekend, I will be praying for the summershine as I take to the hills and camp it up at The Big Chill festival.
As there is wifi, I will be giving a blow by blow account of my mischief making on :
http://culturejamjar.wordpress.com
It kicks off on Friday and information for tickets and the line up can be found here
www.bigchill.net
Better than fiction.
Radovan Karadzic has finally been arrested, the former Serbian Democratic Party leader has been on the run for over a decade and has been working as a doctor in alternative medicine and psychology.
He is being indicted for war crimes, the most horrific of which was mass genocide.
I watched a film last year about the efforts to capture him called “The Hunting Party” which was a decent look at the botched attempts of finding the pigdog and the seemingly undying support of his followers.
The film completely panned, probably because we are all still concerned with catching Osama Bin Laden, but during the end scenes you are left with this gutwrenching feeling because you know there isn’t going to be a tidy little resolution.
When I saw the newspaper today and saw that they had finally brought him in, the victims of the regime might not have got their Hollywood ending, but at least they can begin to draw the curtains on the fear that they have lived through.
I thought she was dead.
After a few too many Amaretto’s, my alarm started to buzz and then kicked into the radio, I was drifting in and out and then heard these words seep into my drums… ”Margaret Thatcher, State Funeral”
I sprang into action, this was huge, but by the time I had removed the sleep from my eyes, I realised that she was in fact alive and I wondered to myself, why I felt exhilarated by the prospect of her demise.
I never met her, and she is just an old lady of 82 and I started my day all puzzled as a result.
For me, the ethical questions roused by my temporary state of elation, were similar to a question I found myself asking a month previously.
Whilst in Venezuela, I noticed this deathly white old man sitting a few table in front of me, well and truly ancient. He was a regular so the barman started a conversation with him and in turn baited me into introducing myself.
I did, told him that I researched politics and he then replied with a tirade about the antics of Hugo Chavez’s botched ideals and addiction.
He had a strong German accent, and in his rant he mentioned that he was an officer in the war, so when I asked him about it he looked me square in the eyes and said “None of your fucking business girl”
I sat there shocked, as he abruptly left the table and proceeded to the bar. He asked for his tab, he had lived there for 26 years, and had visited everyday since. I didn’t hear how much it was since the barman wrote it down discreetly for Hans’s attention only.
He left, cutting me an evil on the out, and the barman asked me what the fuck I had said to Hans, I told him, and my friend who was hovering around at the time backed me up.
It was really quite strange. A few day’s later, there was still no sign of Han’s who had been up until my question’s a daily patron.
Venezuela was the kind of place that you could quite easily get lost if you wanted to, I met many Sicillian’s with deep scars and the kind of faces only mothers could love who spoke four languages and seemed to have bottomless bank accounts.
Over dinner, we discussed the “Hans’s Episode” and after a few too many Caiprihna’s decided that he was one of the last remaining Nazi’s and that he had Hitler on a life support machine in his basement….
When we landed back in reality, we watched a featurette on Channel 4 news, about the last Nazi’s and the news researcher’s had managed to track one down and then there was a little debate on the subject. Was it right to go after them after so long… and so on.
I’m still not sure how I sit on that.. if that person had killed a thousand people during the course of a lifetime and then saved 5000, would it still be ok to give them the lethal injection.
If George W Bush died now, would the anti war protester’s have a party…
It’s too late to undo the mess of the past, but to honour it is a disgrace.
So I propose that the idea of a state funeral for Thatcher be scrapped and instead we bury her body in the deepest mine in Yorkshire and make it a visitor’s attraction.
That way William Hague wont have to miss out on any of their special little talks and every liberal could…
look at the embalmed corpse and wonder how such a frail being could have caused so much….and even in death provoke a complete spectrum of emotion.
