PlayStation 5 At Last!

…to paraphrase Rufus Wainwright’s sarcastic title to his 2009 live album recorded in Milwaukee, which is apparently America’s answer to Swindon or Romford. You know, a place you would never usually choose to go to for pleasure.

I guess, at this point, it probably would have been smarter just to wait for the PS6 to come out, but I… erm… didn’t check. Oh well, my PS4 was starting to sound like a jumbo jet taking off anyway, or a Microsoft computer sitting doing nothing. Plus the disc drive response was very hit and miss, so I thought I’d finally upgrade.

I’ve actually had the machine sat in its box for about a month, as I knew how stressful setting it all up would be. Not just because of my visual impairment, which will forever be a factor, but mostly because I’m a chronic technophobe. I knew I had to be calm, clear headed, and reasonably upbeat to start the unboxing process, which turned out to be Friday.

I wasn’t calm for long.

While I don’t play many games these days, due to my above disability, modern consoles are still great media centres, so I buy them for watching streaming services and DVD/Blu-rays. I basically play the same four games over and over at the moment, and even then they’re mostly free-roaming sort of things. Or retro 8-bit type doohickeys where the graphics aren’t too complex.

Wow, I spelled “doohickeys” right first time! I didn’t even know it was recognised as a proper word. Crazy days!

The first thing that threw me about the PS5 was its truly bizarre wedge-shape. It took me a couple of days to figure out that it’s probably meant to represent a V. You know, as in the Roman numeral for 5. Very clever. Sigh. Unfortunately, if you’re the sort to lay their consoles down flat so you can stack other devices on top of them then, well, Sony has made sure to put a stop to that.

I just don’t know what to say, without cursing, about the decision to break away from a smooth cuboid, so I’ll just say that my PS5 stands vertically, as per Sony’s apparent wishes.

Once I was in there, past the tiresome setup screens which I had to take pictures of and zoom into (I couldn’t find any accessory icons that early on), I was baffled once again, only this time by the unintuitive nature of the home screens. Yes, plural. Instead of a nice, tidy, logical single screen, now we have two. I’m not sure how to describe either or the thought-process behind them, but I think I’m finally acclimatising to the change. I really have to think ahead before I make any movements, as nothing is one simple click away anymore.

The disc player is fine, although I don’t like that the action symbols now appear in the dead centre of the screen. So if, like me, you sometimes speed up a scene just a fraction, your vision is now blocked. It was much better the old way - off to one side.

At least I managed to figure out how to migrate my saved data over. For some reason, none of my shit had uploaded to the cloud. I’m not sure whether this was a conscious decision by me, back when I was cynical about cloud storage, or just some glitch. Let’s just say it took about half an hour to upload it all from my PS4, and now I’m downloading the data to the PS5 as and when I download a game from my library.

All this took possibly a day and a half, and I had to keep taking breaks to go calm down in another room. Thank goodness I live in a sad one-bedroom flat, rather than a sad bedsit (I’ve been sat here for ages trying to remember the colloquial term for an open-plan home, but I just can’t remember). This hot weather didn’t help either, so I was having to stop and wipe myself down every few minutes too. Rest assured, I cracked open a few beers once everything seemed to be where it should be, so I was able to brush away the trauma with good-old alcohol!

I’ve made my privacy settings more liberal for a change, so, if any of you wish to friend me or whatever, my user name is…

sp4nky_luvmffin

…because why not. I felt there were a lot of gamers out there who needed lightening up, and the above ID is guaranteed to break the ice every time.

If you do decide to shake hands, a fair amount of patience may well be required (and appreciated), since I’m a very casual gamer and something of a basket case who’s prone to emotional mood swings. Don’t expect any hardcore gaming with me at your side. When I die, I usually laugh, not rage.

Well, I think that’s about all. This wasn’t meant to be a review of the console, but just a journal of my experience setting it up. Regardless of the above gripes, my PS5 seems to work fine so far. Games play, discs spin, and the thing doesn’t sound like it’s taking off from Stansted. I mean, that’s all I really want form these fucking people.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

The Whittling Post Digest - Issue 8

I’m currently suffering the UK’s annual heatwave, so my ability to show interest in anything is pretty low. Saying that, it’s perfect weather for a nihilistic looser like me to embrace the act of, well, not doing much of anything at all. I think I was sick over the weekend, although it was difficult to tell, what with all the alcohol. There was definitely a point where I said to myself: “I don’t think what I’m feeling is booze-related”. Good times. Anyway, here’s some popular culture that has somehow managed to stick to me like two odd socks in the dryer.

Did that analogy work? Was it even an “analogy”? Sigh, I don’t know how words work anymore.

SHAMELESS

The UK original, not the American remake. I’ve seen bits of this show over the years, but have never gotten around to properly committing to it. Although I’ve meant to. It’s always appealed to me, mainly because of how brazenly obscene it is, with an abundance of teenage shagging and mother-wouldn’t-approve attitude towards drink. Despite my lack of familiarity with the show, I’ve worryingly come to view Frank Gallagher as a kindred spirit over the years. I’m sure that attitude will change once I get further and further into the boxset. Still, I’m sure I will at least develop a whole new affinity with the show, what with, after the series originally aired, finding myself on a similar council estate for 13 years. The final irony being that my tenure befell me after a very middle-class upbringing. I’m sure I deserve it though. I’ve only watched the first episode so far, which was like a mini-movie in itself. I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to cope with the eye-rolling romanticisation of the kind of folk that live around me and make my life a living hell 24/7, but perhaps it’ll help me at least feel somewhat better for tit. Trust me, they don’t deserve your politically correct revisionist affection. I guess that means I don’t either. Oh well. Chin-chin!

THE WONDER YEARS

A show I genuinely don’t think Iv’e seen since it first aired, so much so in fact that I spent much of the first episode in nostalgic tears. Where did it all go wrong, huh? I guess we all ask that once we get to a certain age. Hmm, this paragraph seems to be turning into one of Daniel Stern’s monologues, which I’m fine with. I’m surprised at how frank the show is about sex, considering the age of its main characters, but that just makes things funnier. They would certainly tip-toe around such content nowadays, that’s for sure. I mean, we can’t offend anyone with the truth now, can we?! I regularly find myself daydreaming back to a less conservative time. Even the Thatcherite 80s didn’t give no fucks. Now everything sucks and everybody’s frightened of everybody else. Where on Earth am I going with this?! Oh I don’t know. Anyway, I haven’t gotten too far into the show as yet, but I’m keeping an eye out for bit parts from up and coming actors. Robert Picardo is in there as the coach, although he was well-established already at that point. Robert Picardo makes everything better. Actual fact. I’m also enjoying how low-energy Kevin Arnold and his young friends are, which feels very much in the vein of Peanuts and Hey Arnold. Depressed kids rule.

THE ORVILLE

My cyclothymia decided to ditch my interest in this show about halfway in. I got a bit annoyed with one episode, which asserted the belief that pursuing the natural, wholesome, joyful interest and desire for sex was a “disease”. Did the network demand that at least one episode be written by a right-wing born again Christian or something?! To quote the fabulous Susie Bright on the commentary track for Bound: “Who’s apologising for sex?!”. I lost a bit of respect for the show with that episode. Still, I’ll return once the rules my cyclothymia lays out for me swing back round to enjoying science fiction comedy.

GILBERT & SULLIVAN

I’m on a bit of an opera-kick at the moment, which hasn’t happened in awhile. Well, there’s no greater opera for a homo like me than the works of Gilbert & Sullivan! i’ve heard their songs parodied quite often in popular culture over the years, so it’s interesting to learn that they do feel like intentional comedies. I don’t know how a person could listen to HMS Pinafore and not laugh. As with the writings of P G Wodehouse and Charles Dickens, it’s amazing to discover that people actually had a sense of humour over a hundred years ago. I just thought they sat around covered in soot reading the bible and crying. Go figure.

WARUM KONN ICH NIICHT ARTIG SEIN

Or “Why Can’t I Be Good?”, in English. This German film from 1974 is about, believe it or not, a young boy who has difficulty with authority and keeps losing friends. Sounds familiar. With no English subtitles or dub, I had to try to figure things out myself, but it all came across pretty clearly. While delinquent kids have always been an issue in society, this felt like a film on the cusp of us finally putting medical labels on such mental health disorders and treating troubled youths with counselling and medication. I’m glad we’ve come so far as to be able to stop describing such kids as “bad”, but simply in need of help. While I was never as wayward as my criminally-sociopathic eldest brother, I can tell looking back now that my mental illness started manifesting itself early on, mainly in my inability to connect with those around me. Beyond the emotional themes herein, the film is energetically shot by its director, who gives the film the visual air of an Orson Welles picture. That’s not even an exaggeration. There’s one great continuous shot that starts from inside a house, follows an actor down a long path, continues through a gate, onto a bicycle, then tracks the actor for about fifty yards down the street at full speed. I’ve seen a film by the same director made a decade later, but the visual flare was no longer there. This, however, is definitely worth seeking out as a potential undiscovered masterpiece. The muted colour palette also gives it a black and white vibe, which adds an extra arty sheen to it.

STATS

I’ve had a massive spike in views for my somewhat alternative The Searchers review. Amazingly, I’ve had no angry comments, considering how much of a dick I was. Maybe people just agree with me. I’m so glad I’m not on the big social media sites/apps anymore, let’s just say that. I’m not even particularly comfortable with being on YouTube, having just deleted the bulk of my 1,000+ videos. I was living in fear of getting some nasty attention from them, not that they featured anything particularly provocative. I’ve kept my live streams on there though, as they feel more like episodes of a podcast. Also, with those other, now-deleted videos, there was just too much emotional baggage surrounding them that was weighing me down. I needed to move on.

Well, that’s all for now, folks. I’m sat here barely moving and yet I’m pouring with sweat, so I’m going to go lie down in my pigsty of a bedroom and waft myself with a flattened cardboard box.

Dignity. Always dignity.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles! 

[story corner]

NINSHUBUR AND THE THIEF OF NIPPUR

Outside time. Across worlds. Between rivers. Two children in ancient Mesopotamia become unwitting emissaries to heaven and the underworld, as gods and humans go to war over honour, love, and destiny. This work of historical-fantasy fiction contains period morality which may unsettle some readers.

PART ONE

OF THE SERVANT GIRL’S TRIALS ABROAD IN ACCURSED LANDS

CHAPTER TWO

It had not taken long for Ninshubur to convince her dimwitted father to amend their travel plans. The travelling merchant’s daughter had simply to play up the financial and sexual opportunities visiting a new country may pose. The two had troubled one of the deceased king’s scribes for a map of Kemet’s neighbouring states, eventually settling on returning to Sumer by way of Punt in the south, instead of heading northeast through Edom.

“But why not pass on the tablet back in Uruk?!” Said Ninshubur’s father, remembering the value-for-money quality of brothels along his usual route. “I’m sure our lugal can send necessary aid.”

Ninshubur shook her head.

“No, we are too friendly with Kemet.” She said, pounding the map with her little fist. “The nesut wants old enemies to rise up against Waset’s visir, and help give back power to the royal family!”

After a brief, petulant sigh, Ninshubur’s weary father nodded. They had made camp by Kemet’s broad river, utilising the leather canvass they were set to deliver on their way south through Upper Kemet. They would usually sleep, somewhat uncomfortably, under the cart itself, but the fresh breeze the river brought north with it inspired them to sleep further out. 

“And they say Punt has fine women?!” Her father said, pouring more water into his nedjem wine from Kemet and taking a meaningful sip.

“The finest!” Said Ninshubur, clasping her hands onto her father’s knees in a display of showmanship. “Men from around the Wadj-wer and Alkebulan flock to experience the most excruciating shudders of ecstasy imaginable!”

Her father wiped his moistening lips, his wine-stained tongue protruding to lick imaginary nipples.

“I’ve always wanted to try lying with a black woman!” He said, a hand rubbing the mound of tunic between his legs.

Ninshubur, knowing her father needed just a little more encouragement, sparked a twinkle in her eyes and gave a laugh.

“Well, these ones are blacker than the night’s sky!” She said, grabbing the cup from her father’s hand and taking a long gulp.

The man nodded, failing to notice that his wine-hand was now empty.

“It shall cost us to hire a ship,” he said, the vision of ebony beauties, dancing at his feet, fading from his mind, “if we are to circumnavigate Saba.”

Ninshubur hesitated for just a second, her mind scrambling for possibilities.

“We will not need to!” She said, clapping excitedly. “We shall sell your old cart and become passengers on a ship heading to Sumer, then we shall buy a new cart with the stones given to us in the sale!”

Her father rubbed his chin, with Ninshubur knowing full well that the idiot was not considering her scenario in the way in which she required.

“But… I have become attached to my cart.” The man said, his head falling.

His daughter placed the wine-cup down and snuggled into her father’s wiry frame. She knew at times, like this, that a simple feminine touch was all that was required to lift the simple man’s spirits.

“Then do it for me.” She whispered, her hand rubbing his sagging chest. “Do you not love me, father?!”

With the image of his beloved cart still in line of sight, the man resorted to familial commitment, against all natural reason.

“Of course I do, my little darling!” He said, squeezing her body tightly, which made the wine spit out of her tiny mouth.

The idiot often did not know his own strength. Or, at least, he kept forgetting it.

Ninshubur knew that, in order to save the royal siblings within Kemet, she would have to once again bear the brunt of her father’s feverish libido. It was a duty she regularly took on with modest humour, as a loyal family member would in such times. However, all being said, Ninshubur did not enjoy being used in such a fashion. 

“Shall we get to bed?” Ninshubur said, throwing the last of the thick Kemet wine down her throat in one morbid flick.

In the tent the idiot had made for them and their donkey, father and daughter lay still together and took advantage of their pack-animal’s warm flatulence. Ninshubur felt sure she was to become the hero of Kemet, and was not at all ashamed that she had roundly manipulated her father into being complicit in shady political intrigue. After all, future generations would surely not remember her more questionable manipulations.

Since the girl was sure her father would require no further attention from his daughter, Ninshubur allowed the effects of the strong Kemet wine to send her into a slumber. It was, at that moment, in which she felt her dress being gently pulled up by foreign hands.

⬅︎ PREVIOUS CHAPTER⎜NEXT CHAPTER ➡︎

The Orville - viewing update

Just thought I’d drop a quick post to enthuse about this show further. While they’ve backed-off on the jokes considerably since the first episode, there’s still plenty of laugh-out-loud moments in there. I’d basically define the show as: “Star Trek for people who don’t like Star Trek”. It’s also been helping me get through a sudden low mood attack over the past two days. Nothing helps a person attempt to climb out of a pit of existential despair quite like Seth MacFarlane’s big, dumb face.

I say that with all due respect, of course.

Adrianne Palicki has definitely improved since episode one. I’m not sure what was going on there, but clearly someone whispered: “Try pretending like you care!” into her ear at some point over lunch. Bless. Her character’s still pretty forgettable, but at least the actress is now fully charged.

Peter Macon is a left-field delight, creating plenty of humour with his Off-Brand-Worf dryness. Scott Grimes creates a joyful idiot, with his IQ test in court during one episode a series highlight, for sure. I’ve officially fallen in love with Halston Sage, but I’m guessing I’m not alone there. Norm MacDonald steals the limelight every time his wonderful give-no-fucks voice makes an “appearance” (I’m gonna go ahead and assume “Yaphit” is a Yaphet Kotto/Alien reference). Oh and how giddy was I to learn that Rachael MacFarlane voices the ship’s computer?! Very, that’s how giddy. You go, girl! I also nearly wet myself when I learned who plays god in one episode. I’m not a religious man, but I will be happy to worship Liam Neeson any day of the week.

I struggled to watch the episode “Majority Rule”, which is about social media encouraging mob bullying. Having suffered such an attack myself, it kept bringing up bad feelings. It helps to know that I’m not alone in lamenting where society is going with such outlets though. As I’ve said before, social media just isn’t a place for shy, awkward, lonely nerds anymore. To quote poorly from memory the character Isaac: “I believe you are mistaking opinion for knowledge”, which is why I will never return to most social media. It’s dead.

Elsewhere, I like that the show mixes up serious episodes with a bit of levity, although that’s pretty standard for most TV series. Basically, I’m relieved The Orville isn’t the parody I feared it might be. While full of humour, its creators definitely take the dramatic moments seriously.

Mostly.

I’ve nearly cried a few times too, which has taken me by surprise. In particular, I had to fight back the tears during “Into the Fold” when Isaac the robot learns to comfort people. I’m also shocked at how badass the show can be. Like, our heroes actually kill people. There sure ain’t no “pussy Batman code of ethics” b.s. in there, that’s for sure. Actually, I’m still not quite sure what The Orville’s overall mission out in space is, perhaps because the ship’s mission statement isn’t repeated at the start of each episode, a la Star Trek. We’re also never guaranteed a pat-happy ending each time, which makes for quite a suspenseful viewing experience. You’re just never 100% sure how things are going to turn out, which is admirably unique.

So, yes, I’m completely hooked right now and finding it difficult watching anything else, so the next Friday the 13th review may take some time. Apparently I have to sign up to the Fox streaming service to watch Season 3 of The Orville, which I will not be doing, so I only hope the UK distributor releases a complete 1-3 boxset in the near future.

Speaking of Jason, I’ve just bought Part IX and X (as the set I have only goes up to VIII), deciding not to bother with Freddy vs. Jason. The copies are from Europe, so fingers crossed they work!

Anyway, back to amorphous blobs and creepy clowns…

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!