Free Firefox Fo Fum

Today's the big day for the Firefox gang. With the release of the third version of the IE-killing browser, the boffins at FFHQ are hoping to set a world record for the most worldwide downloads in 24 hours. They must have a server the size of Swindon.

If you're not already using Firefox at this stage in the game - and I use the word "using" very much in the hopeless addict sense of the word - well God, Jed, I don't even wanna know you!*


*As The West Wing's Mrs Landingham once said, talking about something completely unrelated.

Don't touch that dilemma

Sometimes life seems so complicated. Then you realise that it's actually incredibly simple.




Inspired by this

On The Road / West Wing rules, okay?

Cormac McCarthy's new novel The Road is striking in more ways than one. But let's pare it down to one irrelevant detail, because that's what we do here at The Electric Goose. Yep, I'm talking about McCarthy's use of the word 'okay'.

Just like most road movies or 'road novels', there's not much of a plot to speak of (does anything actually happen in On the Road or Easy Rider? Answer: no.) but the story, such as it is, concerns a man and his young son on a journey through a post-apocalyptic America depleted of resources, trying to survive.

Along the way, there's a lot of sparse, Waiting for Godot-like dialogue but it differs from Samuel Beckett's play, in that the circularity is avoided, in this case by the boy's continual grateful acceptance of his father's plans. Which means many of the short sections end with 'okays'. For example:

You want to stop?
I always want to stop.
We have to be more careful. I have to be more careful.
I know.
We'll stop. Okay?
Okay.
We just have to find a place.
Okay.

And

So when are you going to talk to me again?
I'm talking now.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Okay.
Okay.

These near-monosyllabic chunks of dialogue with their unerring final resolutions capture the hopelessness of their predicament, in which the pair are forced to accept a world where everything is not 'okay'.

***

I wonder if McCarthy has been spending his time immersing himself in The West Wing. Scenes in Aaron Sorkin's near-perfect political drama also often end with an 'okay', but Sorkin, like a highly versatile magician, uses the word in an endless number of ways. Frequently it underlines the sagacity of the characters, who are quick to realise when are things they can't change or argue with.

Josh: Intelligence says neighbours in [war-torn country] Kundu are sleeping in each others houses.
Charlie: What does that mean?
Josh: It means they're making people in the same house rape each other on the promise that their lives will be spared.
Charlie: Okay.

Inauguration Part I, Season 4

Of course, it's usually not so bleak, and more often used for comical purposes:

Laurie: You want to buy me a drink?
Sam: I have to say, that sounded very professional to me.
Laurie: Shut up.
Sam: Okay.

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc, Season 1

There's an unusual moment in one episode when Leo McGarry (played by the late great John Spencer) is having an argument with the Secretary of Defence, who he believes has massaged the figures on 'force depletion' (basically a theoretical call on how many soldiers are expected to die if sent to war). Things get highly charged.

Leo [yelling]: The numbers [are] inflated all to hell. It's 150, not 1,000.
Secretary: And that's acceptable to you, in Kundu?
Leo: I don't know what you mean when you say 'in Kundu'. [pause, realisation dawns] Yeah. Yeah, I do.
Secretary [as he storms out]: Go to hell.
Leo [shouting, in voice both angry and weirdly geeky]: Okay.

Inauguration Part I, season 4

Usually in The West Wing, each 'okay' is startlingly eloquent. Here, it is a rare sign of inarticulacy, of not having an answer. Sometimes, however, it just means 'okay'. We'll finish with this scene in The US Poet Laureate episode:

[Toby re-enters the room where the President is sitting to give him a quick briefing before the next satellite link-up interview begins.]

Toby: Okay.
Bartlet: Okay what?
Toby: Nothing, I just meant, you know, okay.
Man: They're back from commercial in 20 seconds.
Bartlet: Drilling/exploring.
Toby: Yes, sir.
Bartlet: Saudi Arabia bad.
Toby: Saudi Arabia very bad.
Bartlet: Okay.
Toby: Okay.
Bartlet: Why are you smiling?
Toby [ironically]: Happiness is my default position.
Bartlet: Okay.

The US Poet Laureate, Season 3

Search West Wing transcripts
for instances of the word 'okay'

Five cultural disappointments of the year

If you came here thirsty for lists, prepare to be quenched...

Mighty Boosh, Brixton Academy
'Surreal', 'culty' and 'outsider' boxes were lazily ticked. Everyone laughed before the self-styled wacky duo had even done anything. Annoying.

Closure of The Queen pub, Bellefields Road
One of my favourite pubs ever. And they didn't just close it – they knocked the fucker down. Relive the pain here.

Broken Boy Soldiers, The Raconteurs
It was supposed to be the next Nevermind, for Jack's sake! Instead, it was just a bit average and featured way too much whigging out. Has slightly spoiled Brendan Benson for me.

Our Freeview box breaking
Luckily it was a two-in-one thing and the DVD player still works. But we still had to buy a new box. Hang your head in shame, Wharfdale.

The West Wing ends
Okay, it was never as good after Aaron Sorkin and Rob Lowe left. But I still wept salt tears.

Bill psyches

This is fairly extraordinary, and certainly worth recording. Last week, Sarah was standing opposite Brixton police station (she works nearby) and she sees a police van driving past. The van - "definitely an official police vehicle" - has speakers attached to the outside; I guess most of them do, so they can shout at rioters and stuff. But this one's different, as the noise emanating from the speakers is... the theme tune to The Bill! The TV programme! The van drives into the police car park and, amazingly, at the exact moment that it pulls to a halt, the song finishes.

This is surely Sir Ian Blair's first great initiative for the Met, and the world should sit up and take notice. If I was a New Jersey gangster, I'd drive along with Alabama 3's Woke Up This Morning on the stereo. If I was President, I'd install speakers in the corridors of the White House so I could walk into the Oval Office to the sounds of The West Wing theme tune. If I worked in a stationery office in Slough, I'd trudge to work with Handbags and Gladrags on my iPod. Never forget that your life is a television programme.


More TV-related theoreticals

John Cage

Today is No Music Day, according to ex-KLF man Bill Drummond. November 21, he says, should be a day where we avoid listening to music and instead think about what we want from it. As Drummond is both crazy and wise, I decide to do his bidding, to see what will happen.

8.45am: I leave home without my iPod, and as I walk the usual route to the tube, find myself unable to think in a straight line. Bits of songs keep coming on in my head and interrupting my chain of thought. The main one is Johnny Cash's cover of I'm Free From the Chain Gang Now: "For years I was known by a number / That I kept my mind is a wonder…" My brain is overcompensating horribly for the lack of melodic input. Too much music has broken my internal monologue. Now it sounds like a gaggle of deranged geese at a funfair.
Symptom: broken brain
Cause: music

11am: At work, the sound of Badly Drawn Boy's The Shining drifts over from someone's computer, and my hungry ears strain for it, before I realise that this is forbidden fruit. I close my mind.
Symptom: avarice
Cause: music

3pm: There is a moment of broken computer-related stress when I instinctively reach for my iPod, as I would reach for a cigarette in an awkward moment in the pub, or as I would reach for my piece when some lowdown hater disrespects one of my homies. But it is not there.
Symptom: addiction
Cause: music

5.10pm: I don't normally listen to music on the Underground – I drape my earphones over my right shoulder and around my neck, so they form a weird exterior vein that joins my upper body to my right hand trouser pocket. But without them I'm beginning to feel a new freedom.
Symptom: sense of freedom
Cause: lack of music

5.15pm: We stop at Baker Street and an unwashed man with his headphones turned up very loud gets on. His music clashes with the music coming from the headphones of the woman sitting behind me. I feel like a broken radio. I look out the window. A cartoon girl wearing headphones looks at me from a poster on the wall, a large smile on her face. The train starts moving. The next poster advertises a CD called Choral Classics. The next is for The Phantom of the Opera.
Symptom: paranoia
Cause: music

5.40pm: On the walk home, Boom by Akira the Don ft Bashy comes on in my head. "Everyday there's a riot up at E10," sings Bashy, over and over again. Then Mama Cass comes on: "You've got to… Play your own kind of music / Sing your own special song." I start thinking about the the great director Robert Altman, who has recently died. Echo and the Bunnymen's mid-90s comeback single Nothing Lasts Forever comes on in my head. I start thinking about Nashville, Altman's best film, which is, of course, focused around the country music scene.
Symptom: obsession
Cause: music

5.45pm: I get home and resist the temptation to put on the hi-fi as I take my hat scarf coat off. I go to the toilet and resist the temptation to whistle while I'm pissing. I go into the kitchen and resist the temptation to put on the radio while I make tea. Then I resist the temptation to hum. Then I resist the temptation to put the television on, as most programmes will have soundtracks. I switch the computer on – does the Windows start up noise count as music? I put my hands over my ears. I resist the temptation to start up iTunes. The internet isn't working – NTL should've fixed it days ago. I can't phone them though, because they'll put me on hold, which will involve listening to music. I look at the West Wing DVDs lying on the floor and think of the theme tune. I look at my guitar, which I'm now not allowed to play.
Symptom: cabin fever
Cause: music

6.25pm: I eat a Twix. It is delicious. "Things will be back to normal soon," I think, eyeing the CD rack.

Conclusion
Diagnosis: Music is evil and must be stopped
Cure: Twix bars


Another day dissected

Old jokes retold

Q. Why did the chicken cross the road?
A. Because it was infected with a deadly avian flu virus and WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE THE CRAZY BIRDS MUST BE STOPPED AT ALL COSTS SEIZE THEM YOU FOOLS.

In the words of The West Wing’s great Donna Moss, "Now I know how Tippi Hedren felt."

The new Lowe

Went to see Rob "West Wing" Lowe in Aaron "West Wing" Sorkin's play A Few Good Men on Friday. The play appeared on Broadway in 1989 before it became a Hollywood film starring Tom Cruise, Demi Moore and Jack Nicholson. For those unfamiliar with the plot, naval officer-lawyer Daniel Kaffee (Lowe) has to defend two young marines accused of murdering a weaker recruit during a "code red" procedure (a ceremonial dressing down, which might include shaving the offender's head, or beating the shit out of him). The code red may or may not have been ordered by the marines' superior, Colonel Jessop. Courtroom drama and lots of shouting ensues.

The whole thing was enjoyable, watchable and surprisingly really good, though the characters are never quite more than the high-quality dialogue they speak. But Lowe has enough charm to keep the most jaded cynic smiling wistfully for days. If you've seen the film, what was strange about the play was the fact that the actors played it for laughs on a surprising number of occassions - and got them.

Contrasting strongly with the West End glamour of Rob Lowe's perfect hair was the grainy violence of the "initiation ceremony" footage of British marines that emerged on Sunday. It shows two naked marines fighting each other in the mud while others (also naked) stand around egging them on. When one of the men appears to refuse to fight, a superior officer, dressed as a surgeon (the other is in schoolgirl grab), kicks him in the head, knocking him out. The footage seems slightly speeded up, giving the whole thing the appearance of an old-fashioned silent movie, with the costumes adding to the surrealism. It looks like some weird ultraviolent playground. Media reaction so far has been flippant, unshocked - they are marines after all.