Showing posts with label advertisement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advertisement. Show all posts

Saturday 3 October 2020

Shibboleths


I saw a vile thing in a charity in King's Lynn; a face mask pouch. Yes a wee bag to pop your lung excreta soaked rag into after signalling far and wide your belonging to the "good guys gang", your  virtue and how much your really care. Ew! Anyhow here we have the equivalent of the Build-a-bear idea, the entrepreneurial drive may have been biffed around the snotty noggin by the Fat Controller but it is far from dead and still knows no depths too deep to sink.


This desperate advert cum ripped up don't- quite-know-what is just plain barmy. 99.95% survived and most of those that didn't were not long for this world and almost none died of Covid-19 alone. They make it seem like some epic struggled, the only danger was and remains the crazed politicians. 

And on the subject of being political I was upbraided by someone for being too political; this is not the spirit, I was told, of City Daily Photo (all praise and hallelujah!). This was after the said person had posted about the Mayor of her town and the state governor, yes she was American; how could you tell? Hmm I wonder where the word politics comes from; could it be the ancient Greek word for city πόλις I think it could well be. Cities are political entities, politics is at their heart, the pretty buildings, the nice parks, the artful riverside walks all come about by political power.

Monday 6 July 2020

A cooling dollop of scepticism


But I'm near the end and I just ain't got the time
And I'm wasted and I can't find my way home ...

Long, long ago when that was but little tiny lad I started a course in biochemistry, at Liverpool University if you're interested which I'm sure you're not, anyhow the course involved much practical work in laboratories doing protein assays, carbohydrate assays, lipid assays, mineral assays. Measuring stuff, in short, answering that perennial question how much of what you claim to be there is actually there. Common to all these assays was preparing a calibration curve using purified protein or glucose, vitamin C, starch, NADH or whatever was on the mind of the lecturer that week. We always started with a bottle of known and measured our sample of unknown against that. It became ingrained, dinned into us: start with what you know and compare that against what you have in your hot little hand.
I relate this because it seems to me that a lot of so-called science, as reported today, skips that part of dealing with what is real and known and reaches for the computer model of how it is supposed to be, dogma has replaced experiment. This might not have been so important, reality will eventually catch up and bite these dreamers, except they have immunised themselves against reality by a wall of self-righteous indignation that reaches all the way up to and including the top levels of political and business power. The model is now emperor of all he surveys (not actually surveys since that would entail taking measurements and stuff, facts and data only get in the way)  and his clothes are a glorious array of flim-flammery and untested theory.
So with so-called man made climate change (seemingly now a way of browbeating folk into accepting expensive, windy, sunny, watery, willowy woody power generating schemes when nuclear is clearly the way to go and there's centuries' worth of nice coal under our feet) and so, more to the point with coronavirus testing.
When I read the protocol for this test back in March first thing I asked myself was where is the metaphorical bottle of purified virus that they are using for comparison, well it didn't exist then and, you know, it still doesn't these months and several million tests later. You might think that something as important as this test would at least have a so-called gold standard behind it. You'd be wrong. It has less behind it than the Wizard of Oz, it's basically an act of faith, believe in the dogma behind all this, believe in the method, in short believe in the very existence of Sars-Cov-2 or what? What is there left to believe in? It simply has to be true. This is the 'truth', the only possible 'truth' and nothing but the 'truth'.
Belief is, of course, basic to science but it has to be based on evidence, on repeatable demonstrable experience that can be refuted by experiment. In short it is based on a "bottle of known stuff" not on fanciful dogmatic delusion as seems to be the style these days.
So if you see me wandering around, too close for comfort, breaking that anti-social distancing claptrap, not wearing a silly face-nappy and laughing at poor saps who worry that their world is being ruined by alleged nanoscopic pieces of lipo-protein wrapped RNA ("that come all the way from China") that may or may not exist well now you know why. Three years of scientific training and three more years of postgraduate research (or paid fun as I recall) and years of watching that old handcart roll on down the path to who knows where have left me deeply scarred with what are now old man's doubts. 

Thursday 2 April 2020

...the spirit of perpetual negation

                             ...for all things that exist
Deserve to perish, and would not be missed—

Saturday 19 October 2019

Snooker Loopy

If you like seeing grown men putting their brightly coloured balls on a table and hitting them into pockets with the end of stick then snooker is your game of choice. If, like me, you think that when you've seen one game of snooker you've seen them all then maybe you should give this exhibition of geriatric ball potters a miss.
Snooker enjoyed a revival from its sleazy, smoke filled room, sign-of-a-misspent-youth decline back in the late 60s/70s simply because the one of the two TV companies available back then (the BBC) had introduced colour TV broadcasting and needed a program with coloured things in it. It was called "Pot Black" as I recall and led to one commentator making the memorable sentence " For those of you who are watching in black and white, the pink is next to the green". They certainly don't do TV like they used to.

Tuesday 13 August 2019

Talking of Michelangelo


Which is it: is man one of God's blunders, or is God one of man's blunders?
                                                                                                 Friedrich Nietzsche

Anglican God Services Inc., have let it be known that they will be putting on a display of high definition photographs of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in their local office in town (whether they have paid for the rights to Papist God Inc. has not been disclosed.) It will, of course, feature this famous scene where Man creates God in his own image (if only he hadn't all would be well and all manner of things would be well). They haven't said whether Heston and Harrison will be on hand to sign autographs and maybe sing a duet or two, I know they're both dead but death shall have no dominion as we all know.

Entrance to the peep show is free but you will need to get a ticket ...

Thursday 21 September 2017

Meet the neighbours


I don't know about you but I often watch adverts and wonder what mind altering substance was involved in their creation. So it is with this beguiling invitation for a student accommodation business near the University. What were they taking? And can I have some?

Margot took this delightful photo.

Monday 15 May 2017

Sign something simple


You can't have a year long bean fest without some promotion and as with all advertising the less you mention the product the better. Whoever was paid a no doubt substantial fee to come up with these instantly forgettable catch lines has learnt that lesson well... Here's a couple of the many enigmatic messages festooning the town.  When I'm bored I might post some more.



Saturday 6 May 2017

Building a legacy


Here is the eastern end of Jameson Street with the canopy of the now empty BHS store that used to shelter those waiting for buses. Where once there was a steady stream of cars, buses and people, the very arterial blood of any city, there is now yet another bland, pedestrianised desert. 




When a shop stops selling stuff and the doors close and the "for sale" signs spring up (redevelopment opportunity, of course) this is when the cover up operation starts. In swoops the council or whoever and City of Culture posters festoon the empty windows and doors. It all looks so professional, they've obviously had a lot of experience in this. So the empty BHS store is no longer a salutary lesson in the failure of modern business but has somehow become a bright blue advertisement for Culture and that is some sort of legacy I suppose.


Now I've gone on about this mosaic thing before and how there was a petition to get it some protection from any future wrecker's ball. Well it seems there yet another petition to get it Grade 2 listed. As you simply cannot have too many petitions I signed that as well; you may like to do so it's here. The mural now has a Twitter identity (@BhsMuralHull)  and I read recently of a young person who had a tatoo based on the mosaic. Now that is truly a lasting legacy.



The Weekend in Black and White is here.

Wednesday 26 April 2017

Big Blue Beastie


It seems Dope Burger have got a bigger van and it's hungry. Colourful though it may be it's parked on a double yellow on Anlaby Road during the rush hour and that's just wrong on so many levels.


I took this as well from the same place so why not post it ...

Friday 20 January 2017

The Vacuous Nonsense


As part of the cultural bonanza currently being spread like field manure, hither and yon, several advertising hoardings around town are to be taken over for what is termed Art. Now I know art is not meant to mean anything so this is clearly qualifies as art, a house, a car like thing and Rudolph the reindeer suddenly discovering who has been sworn in as 45th president of the US of A. A whole year of this fap crap, oh how wonderful!

Tuesday 13 December 2016

Quite Gratuitous


Well now there's  Margot saying the other day "Oh that'll be removed in a day or so". "What?" says I. "The bare backsides advertising a student accommodation agent" says herself. "The what now? Surely not ..." says I in all innocence. "Oh! ... I see what you mean" ...
And there's more; there's two gentlemen with their trousers around their ankles and the "Your place or mine?" tagline ... and all this on staid old Newland Avenue. There's not be such goings on since a dominatrix was boarded up in a massage parlour a couple of years back.

Now I don't mind a bit of smutty innuendo now and then I mean it's so full of, well, do I need to draw you a picture?. But not everyone, it seems, shares my view which is perhaps just as well. So cue the obligatory social media indignation from the PC (Puritanical Claptrap) brigade, the perennially silly and ever available for a quote MP for North Hull up on her hind legs with Tweets about "sleaze" and "brothels" and "portrayals of sex acts" (such a dirty mind she must have). And the cries of it objectifying women (but not men, note) and "will no-one think of the children" (who see far more and worse on their computers and phones before breakfast) etc etc etc. Those who wished to be offended were duly offended which is as it should be and they are no doubt smugly content.

Anyhow the accommodation agency have "organised the immediate removal of the images" but not so immediate that I was unable to take a leisurely stroll back down Newland Avenue to refresh my memory and verify my facts as it were.


Saturday 8 October 2016

A load of codswallop


I don't know about culture (that's probably not come out the way I meant it) but I do know there's a tidal wave of propaganda filling the streets of this incomparable town. And, as any student of physics should know, a wave moves nothing forward but simply shifts stuff up and down often causing destruction as it passes through. Anyhow the hunky hipster fisherman dressed in waterproofs and a sou'wester doing something unspeakable to a dead cod has surely got to win some sort of award for camp cliché of the year. More of this please!

Thursday 2 June 2016

Soft, strong and unbearably long ...


OK I expect the odd advertisement for the C of C but this one in Hull station put me in mind of a giant toilet roll. Is it sending a subtle message about the dire nature of next year's 'events'?

Wednesday 8 July 2015

Aussies suck ...


... something called Up & Go (a breakfast drink, m'lud ) every morning which is why they will no doubt win this Summer's Ashes series which starts today in Cardiff. Sadly there'll be no “Morning, everyone” from Richie Benaud but life goes on. Cricket, I'm told, is an impenetrable mystery to some folks who fail to see how a match can last five days, end in a draw (if we're lucky!) and still be gripping stuff. Well there you go, that's just how it is.
These adverts however really do 'suck' if I may use the vernacular.


Monday 9 March 2015

A word from our sponsors


A couple of Government sponsored adverts have appeared on Cottingham Road, they accompany others on TV and in newspapers in a similar vein. It is a new development, in this country, that the Government should seek to advertise like this, trying to convince us that the country is doing "Great".(War time hype excepted) It comes on the back of other advertising campaigns about the Scottish referendum and the UK's role in Afghanistan. Overall Government advertising spending has risen by 22% this year. I cannot recall anything like this particular campaign in my lifetime, maybe the pathetic "I'm backing Britain" thing in the 60's comes close but it was nothing like as widespread as this. One might almost call it propaganda. Oh and there's an election coming up in May did I forget to mention that? I expect the Government will win that again ...


Monday 23 February 2015

and if the worst comes to the worst


I don't know what it is about this particular site on Anlaby Road but it attracts unusual adverts and this, should the barriers I mentioned yesterday fail in some way, could be useful. I checked out the system and it appears to be high-tech sandbags, sorry boxes, but I may have missed some subtle message.