Down to The Wire

As I am about to lend all my DVDs of this fine show to my bestie's housemate, I thought it was time to pay homage to the sheer excellence that is The Wire.


*SPOILER ALERT - I WILL RUIN EVERYTHING FOR YOU IF YOU READ ON!!!*

The Wire is one of HBO's finest offerings. An absolute marvel. It outpaces, outstrips, outdoes The Shield (sorry Vic Mackey, you are not a patch on everyone's favourite alcoholic, two marriages down the gurgler, trouble making cop Jimmy McNulty) and it makes those other cop shows - NCIS/CSI/NYPD Blue/Law & Order - look like Funniest Home Videos where no one laughs, let alone watches.

The opening credits are cinematic gems in and of themselves. Each series has the same title track - Way Down in the Hole by Tom Waits. 'When you walk through the garden, you better watch your back.'

The only common part of the opening title sequence across the five seasons is the rock thrown at the CCTV camera (which I imagine took about 835 takes to get right, but gee its good) and the shot of the alley with the graffiti - Body-More # Murdaland (where # is a big bullet).

As for the actual TV show? It is centred on a wire tap. Hence the name. It is about cops and criminals but it stands above other TV shows of the same ilk. In fact it is probably a genre on to itself. There is no solving of cases every episode with the typical twist - he/she did it, oh no hang on, the least likely person to do it actually did it. There is none of that.

It isn't about black and white; it isn't about good and bad. There are contradictions in terms – a sharp cop that doesn’t just flout authority but writes his own rule book; a drug kingpin that is studying for his MBA and trying to use his economic skills to secure his gang’s long term future; a gay criminal that steals from drug dealers like a modern day Robin Hood and a dobbing junkie who has a sharp mind, who is able to quickly discern what a drug gang's next move will be, and curiously, has a heart of gold.

It is about the game in the dirty streets of Baltimore.

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It is realism at its finest. The hierarchical system is explored, its flaws exposed; from the drug kingpin down to the corner boy, from the Mayor and the Chief Police Commissioner down to the cop on the beat.

The dialogue in The Wire is raw street. Sometimes it is a little hard to understand but a few oft used phrases are as follows:

• In the game = selling drugs to make a living.
• Ya feel me? = do you know what I mean?
• Most def = absolutely, for sure; literally the abbreviation of most definitely.
• Hamsterdam = selling drugs in a three block by three block area where the cops don't care.
• Real po - leece = a cop that actually does police work.
• Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttttt = Clay Davis is having a bad day.
• What the fuck did I do? = McNulty did something that the bosses don't like... again.

In detail - let's take it season by season.

Season 1 was the more traditional set up – cops vs. drug dealers. The cops didn't know their own beats. The kingpins and corner boys exploited this. Enter one smart cop. Enter wire tap. Intercepting and interpreting codes and secrets leads to a big scalp but not without blurring the lines between right and wrong.

Season 2 focused on the corruption down at the docks. The head union official would stop at nothing to stave off the developers who wanted to turn his port into a condominium paradise. Wheeling and dealing with criminals was seen as a necessity to reverse the port’s declining fortunes. There was camaraderie amongst the wharfies until the bitter end. This season also zeroed in on the emerging drug war – east vs west. Two drug gangs battle for more turf and, in turn, more profits.

Season 3 sees the drug war that commenced in Season 2 escalate. The interim solution to the war is somewhat surprising – a drug co-op. A pooling of resources, a sharing of the (stolen) wealth. The political element also comes into play in this season — a Mayor is running for Governor and several city councillors are running for Mayor, who all need the city to look its best. Some are comfortable with the mere façade that things are getting better, some want real change. It's interpreted by the cops as the former - the cops cook the books so the crime rate comes down. One rogue, adventurous cop tries something entirely different to decrease the crime rate --- legalises drugs in a certain area. While creates a microcosm of depravity, he is successful in cleaning up the rest of the city. But this bizarre brand of socialism does not last. The status quo ultimately prevails as all parties to the drug war appear to have a vested interest in preserving it.

Season 4 taps into the fallibilities of the public school system. Again, the focus is on statistics. One teacher tries to make a difference before falling into the mould and teaching the ‘answers’ to the state school proficiency test. It's the only way to ensure the numbers are met so the funding dollars roll in. And then we find out, it’s all in vain. The best and brightest students are cherry picked by drug kingpins and their lieutenants as future mid level management. Meanwhile, the new drug lord exterminates anyone who gets in his way leaving body after body to rot in vacant houses. The cops pull things together at the end as a new Mayor is elected.

Finally, season 5 shows that there is corruption in those who are supposed to be the monitors of corruption - the Baltimore Sun and the Baltimore Police Department. At the Baltimore Sun, cutting employee numbers and budgets has led to sloppy, lazy journalism. There are very few left at the paper that keep an eye on the details and in turn, effect any meaningful change in society by keeping readers informed. At the cop shop, budgets are also taking their toll meaning no real police work is being done. This season is about a journo's aggressive pursuit of a Pulitzer, fabricating details in news stories just so he has a chance of fame. It's also about a cop's aggressive pursuit of criminals, falsifying evidence around murders to ensure that the real bad guys end up in jail.

A+++

Blood sugar sex idol

Welcome back!

Good to be here

Not you Billy, the Australian variety.

That's right folks. Last Sunday night, almost a week ago now, I turned once again to the Idol chapter in my television book.

The last of the top 12 was finalised with little pomp and circumstance. The G-banger swiftly introduced Toby (hot school teacher who has one of the weakest voices in the competition) and Hayley (already tipped by yours truly for a podium finish) as the 9th and 10th place getters in the top 12.

The judges then put in Casey (oh so now we know he is one eye blind, thanks Channel 10) and Tim (nice enough but meh enough to only last a few weeks).

Ashleigh was first with “Miss Independent”. Ashleigh is 17 going on 42. The band were nothing short of shite - there were some gratey synth noises coming from all instruments except the drums. This exposed to us all that the loss of everyone's favourite muppet, John Foreman, has been immeasurable. Ashleigh has that mainstream shopping centre look and feel. But the sound is more Vanessa Amorosi 2.0, also adept at working the stage at Knifepoint or even worse, Fountain Hate. Let's hope she brings out the Black Velvet to show us that she can run the full Myle.

She could be my daughter.

Then we had Scott. Curious back story - 'no one has ever heard him sing'. I think the appeal lies in the 'this could be me' part of the equation..............

Anyway, Scott sang "Come Together". I've got to say that he is a quadruple threat - hot, fit, can sing and can put his brick anywhere. I feel like I want to do things in a feverish passion when he is around - I'm Rebecca Mornay to a breast pump in the Hand that Rocks the Cradle.

Text Scott to 191010

Casey (Donovan/Jimmy) Barnes went full tilt on the Powderfinger pedal with “On My Mind”. I didn't really feel the connection. Dicko did try and cross examine him, trying to pull out the strand of uniqueness that he would need to show Australian teenagers aged circa 13 to 15 to get some votes. I suspect that everyone's favourite blind Idol will be ousted fairly quickly.

Make that second favourite, Berns here is always no 1 to me.

Hayley Warner sang “Light Surrounding You” by Evermore. And her parents are butchers. Snap to that. The Marcia-God pulled out some stock comments - 'you know darling, that is one of my favourite songs of all time. Well done darling. Well done' - so this leads me to believe that Kim is on Marcia's hit list in '09 (it's always someone).

James dribbled out The Fray’s “How To Save A Life”. James is the 09 version of Dean Geyer - except without the backflips. I don't know if he can cut the mustard week in, week out. I will refrain from otherwise paying him out whilst the talent jury is still out.

Sabrina Teenage Psycho Bitch screeched like a wailing banshee through MJ's “Earth Song”. Dicko doesn't know who she is but one thing is clear - she is fucking nuts. And she looks like she might get the fangs out soon. Stay in your houses people!

Nathan sang “Stop and Stare”. Clinical. Next.

Stan literally held his hand up as an “Umbrella” whilst he sang the Rihanna song of the same name. Stan is clearly the judges favourite. Marcia gushed - I love hearing you sing, that's why you sing. No actually - it's not always about you Marcia, you self-absorbed FREAK!

Become one with the umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh.

Toby creeped it up. I felt like I was at the Arcadia after 12 pots but at least radiohead was on Idol - whoop!

Now painted blue and white to support Geelong - brick by brick.

Kim Cooper gave us her best whilst singing the Foo Fighters' “Best Of You”. And Kim has her tale of woe (bipolar daddy-o) but would prefer to focus on the here and now. Gosh, that's almost... completely sensible! And yes, watch this space --> not since the times of yore when Chanel Cole graced the Idol stage and purred out sex kitten-ish, Portishead-ish goodness has Marcia shown such scorn towards another female contestant. Time will tell whether Kim takes the cake from CC.

Tim whimpered out "Halo" for the attuned. Then openly praised Jesus for any American viewers. Not a total car crash. But a little dent in the rear fender. More choir boy than Jesus Christ Superstar.

Kate Cook got “Stuck In The Middle With You” and it was OK. Her country shirt is taking over from where the hat ends. This may mean that next week she dresses up as a hay bale.

Yeehaw.

Tips for bottom 3 = Casey, Tim and James. Casey to get the boot.

Come and fucking get it.

With Peter Russell Clarke.

Ah the early childhood memories of his 5 minute show on the ABC with the catchy jingle (and the not-so-distant memories of Dave, WSO and I trying to remember the jingle in its entirety during our la road trip in France):

Come and get it, come and get it, with Peter Russell Clarke

In the city or the outback, he’s Australia’s brightest spark

Come and get it, come and get it, good food you’ll love to eat

Come and get it, come and get it, and there’s people you can meet.

Key change

Cook a shark or make a damper

Feed your ego or pack a hamper

On a farm or out at sea

Learn a recipe or threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Key change

Come and get it with Peter - G’Day - Russell - G’Day - Claaaaaarke…

G’Day, today we are going to sample this fucking ridiculous hamper... etc etc.

And just now I received his fabulous blooper reel in HD:



Quite.

The simple things in life are often the best.

And I'm not just talking about Kelloggs Cornflakes (which interestingly are not available in Bangalore, India, so my friend proposes to smuggle over a carton to sell on the black market in a week's time)...

I'm talking about what I saw on the weekend for the very first time --> the new main title of the The Simpsons:



While I have recently embraced Blu-Ray - Planet Earth and Band of Brothers have never made for finer viewing - I am not happy with the way Matt Groening et al have implemented the shift to HD.

My main beef with the new title sequence is that it has too many bells and whistles. If you pause at the minute mark, you will see all the key characters that had not yet featured in this overdone, overcooked and over the fucking top title sequence - including Ralph playing on a grave (WTF), Patty & Selma Bouvier sunbaking (EEEW) and, among a plethora of stupid jokes, Snake stealing Lou's gun (lame!)

To the creators of The Simpsons. Self-flagellation = overdue.

It's a meeeeee, Mario.

Charles Martinet, the voice of Mario, was in town yesterday. And I can't help but feel disappointed knowing that he is just a short, middle aged, borderline ambino man. I guess I just thought it was some clever computer animation.

Riding the Idol love boat or sinking on the Idol Titanic?

I'll go with the latter

I did not see very much of the Idol Wild card show, but I saw enough to want to: (a) drive nails deep into my ocular sockets to block out the lame stage work from most of them, the scary eyes of a 'killer' in Casey and Ed Zaidan's ridiculously large nostrils/large lips/clown-like appearance; and (b) do a Van Gogh - cut off the (Lisa) lobes and drink a quart of Turps before being committed - just to get away from the TT-FM-esque efforts of Aliqua, Lauren, Tenielle and Toby.

So that leaves us with Lucie, Tim and Hayley as dead certs because they were the three that did not make me want to violate myself in a horrific fashion. And then flip a coin for Casey and Ed - perhaps Casey just to show that you do not need to be a Doona-van to have some serious lung action.

Sigh.

Where have the good times gone?

Standing L to R - Rhys from SYTYCD, some girl overly festooned with red lippy, Wes from Oz Idol 2008, some upherselfbiatch, some cute little Italian girl.
Sitting L to R - Boy who can't stand anymore because he was Johnny Young's favourite singer.

What grinds my gears #7 - family quirks

Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops. Wise words from the great Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace.

Well I can certainly vouch for that. My family is INSANE. In the membrane. In the BRAIN.

OK - perhaps we are a little less insane than this fam.

Leaving my sibling aside (I'm not in the business of dishing out cheap shots), my parents are nuts. They are crazy in the coconut.

First, my mother. She is just a weird egg. She has the capacity to careen wildly from happiness to sadness to sheer madness in two seconds or less. One must carefully navigate her mood by ensuring that she doesn't drift off into the 56th tangent of a story or worse, end stories with 'let's just bomb the entire Middle East' or 'we need a good war to get rid of all the dickheads' or something else horrendously offensive.

It is quite the chore to carefully drive her back into neutral conversational territory again and again. Managing my mother in a public forum is an even more exhausting enterprise that can only be embarked upon... once a week for 30 minutes or you can save it up for a fortnightly or monthly outing, where you've got a few hours before you start to claw at the walls and shout like a hyena.

And it's quite common across her family - all 7 of her siblings suffer from frequent foot in mouth.

My aunty recently visited our house for the first time and said:

"Kid A, I like your house but I prefer to live in mine."

Difficult to take that without laughing too hard. Meanwhile, WSO was noiselessly laughing hysterically in the study at the thought of a house swap with the dear old bird.

My late uncle had a penchant for blending certain petroleum products with his liver - metho and coke being a speciality. And he was ever the salesman, first handbags, then aboriginal art and relics. I'll never forget the Christmas where he brought three didgeridoos along. Two of my cousins and I spent an hour slobbering down them. He then went on to tell us that our technique was wrong, he was of course the expert after spending three weeks in some village in Arnhem Land. While he could produce some sort of a noise, he almost had several cardiac arrests doing so!

Anyway, back to the main game. Mother bear. Here are some peculiarities that are not known to be present in any other living species apart from my mother:

• Mixing two instant coffee varieties together - Nescafe Blend 43 is too strong, whilst International Roast is too weak so voila, a 50:50 mix is the ultimate in instantio caffe.
  
• Having a back up pantry in case of World War III or an outbreak of a raging virus or plague - essentially this means you will always have two of everything. For example, if you finish off the Vegemite jar, Mum will transfer the new jar from the back up pantry and write 'Vegemite' on the shopping list to replace in the back up pantry usually within a 24 hour period.
• Saving money in a 'secret' compartment of her purse - where secret is the second most common area to put notes. In this part of her purse, you will typically find one or two greenies and half a dozen pineapples.
• Not throwing out any old calendars or cards - that get well card I made with macaroni in Grade 2 was still in the drawer the last time I looked. I thought best not tell her, she might put it up on the wall! And don't even get me started about the calendar from 1986... Pope John Paul II's second papal visit was interesting at the time yes, now we've got the Emperor Benedict. Move on!
  
• Speaking of calendars, another one is fixing the weekly culinary calendar - dinner was certainly not like a box of chocolates when I was growing up. Monday = Spaghetti or Lasagne. Tuesday = Dad cooks = something spicy like Sambal, Thai Curry, Spanish Paella. Sometimes Chicken Cacciotore etc. Wednesday = meat portion, three vegie portions. Thursday = casserole/mystery box food/splod. Friday = fish n chips like any good Catholics, sometimes pizza if Mum was not there. Saturday = roast. Sunday = pancake/omelette/the typical 3 minute CBF meal.
  

As for my father, well he has probably what is called 'second order madness' from living with my kooky mother. He is slowly eating his way through the world, one HJ's burger at a time. Big heart. Hopefully not on the verge of a big heart attack.

In his interactions with yours truly, he is like a stuffed toy with a voice box - only capable of three catch phrases - 'yeah, yeah, yeah', 'ask your mother' and 'how much do you want this time?'

But to his credit, he works harder than anyone I've seen and can take nagging like no other.

Sigh. So there you have it. That's the pez. But I do love them, you know.