Arts
Sam "speaking." Since the inception of Funfiltered in 2019, writing these blurbs has required me to don the figurative duds of Jeremy Kettle, to step through the stargate into a dimension of stratified ironies and byzantine prose. These little descriptions, neglected as they were and will continue to be, were only the tip of the iceberg. The world of Jeremy Kettle (or J.K.U. to me and nobody else) demanded strict maintenance. Each throwaway reference, be it his killing a gibbon in a Jeep in Indonesia or picketing outside McVitie's HQ in Stockport, needed to be plotted onto a timeline stretching from 1959 to the present day. "Needed" is probably an exaggeration, given that I alone... well, cared. But I harbour the withering hope that somebody somewhere will someday find some modest pleasure in perusing the mosaicked narrative. None of this is merely to point out the labour I laboured, the sweat I sweated, the ignorance I had to ignore to be able to get up in the morning. No, the point is... there is no longer a roadmap. No safety net. From here on out, I have to be... me. And that's a haunting prospect. I am bereft. Here is an opportunity to communicate, to wax deep, to WRITE. But how does one balance the haughty, basically biological compulsion to pen summat worthwhile and the reality of the indifference of all other life-forms, sentient or otherwise (there's a blue bottle buzzing around me as I type this and I almost want to weep with gratitude)? It's a new topography. A hostile climate. A new dominion to... Conquer? YES, let's turn this into a positive! No no no, I'm not aimlessly traipsing through the jungle without agua! I'm... Pizarro in Peru! Minus the Incan genocide! Look, the point is, there's kind of a new thing to do, find, be, whatever, I don't know. Welcome to the slightly, essentially imperceptibly modified Funfiltered podcast. As such, to remain faithful to our sloppiness, Mr. Criddle proclaimed that we were to discuss the 37th Emmy nominations. Alas, we did not quibble over the merits of The Cosby Show versus Family Ties. In 1985. No, 'tis the forthcoming 73rd on which we set our sights... You're Pizarro, Sam. Pizarro.