Sunday, September 24, 2006
Idol Chatter
I just finished watching Singapore Idol and was oddly motivated to seek out this MTV that I saw a while back and left a lasting impression on me.
In this one, Johnny Cash does his take of a Nine Inch Nails song written by Trent Reznor and makes it his own. It starts off with him picking on a black acoustic guitar, his signature baritone noticeably subdued, frail even, but lacking none of the nuance. In all his wizened, wrinkled glory and dressed in black (he was, the Man in Black afterall), he sings a song that pretty much sums up his life juxtaposed against clips and images of his younger days. The lyrics are simple yet poetic and surreal, especially if you’ve read his life story of drug abuse, religious issues, family and love. Ominous monotone piano tolls like a bell throughout, pushed on by pounding acoustic guitars getting louder and louder as he delves deeper into his past and culminating in an abrupt deafening silence.
I’d love to see what he would have had to say if he were to judge American Idol.
But then again, I don’t think he would have made it past the first round.
In this one, Johnny Cash does his take of a Nine Inch Nails song written by Trent Reznor and makes it his own. It starts off with him picking on a black acoustic guitar, his signature baritone noticeably subdued, frail even, but lacking none of the nuance. In all his wizened, wrinkled glory and dressed in black (he was, the Man in Black afterall), he sings a song that pretty much sums up his life juxtaposed against clips and images of his younger days. The lyrics are simple yet poetic and surreal, especially if you’ve read his life story of drug abuse, religious issues, family and love. Ominous monotone piano tolls like a bell throughout, pushed on by pounding acoustic guitars getting louder and louder as he delves deeper into his past and culminating in an abrupt deafening silence.
I’d love to see what he would have had to say if he were to judge American Idol.
But then again, I don’t think he would have made it past the first round.
The Woman In The Hat
The sight of her strikes fear deep into the heart of any man whose consience is less than clear. She prowls the streets, slowly but purposefully in her search for those who would rather not be found. Her arrival is often unannounced and devoid of fanfare, and those who seek to stay clear of her would do best to spot her first.
And when she does appear, it doesn’t matter which societal strata you belong to. CEO to chef, businessman to deliveryman, all are subject to her scrutiny and the consequences of being found wanting. On any other day she might appear benign, but once she dons her unmistakable trademark garb she possesses a power invested in her by an unseen force that makes its presence felt through minions like herself.
She is…the Parking Coupon Aunty.
It’s funny how an otherwise homely-looking middle-aged woman can wield so much power over the lives and decisions of all drivers. In a country where cars are ridiculously expensive to begin with and fitted by law with electronic transceivers for the sole purpose of extracting money from the sucker behind the wheel, traffic fines and parking summonses rub copious amounts of salt into the gaping wounds already sustained by car owners. As such, those of a slightly subversive nature who try to save a little on parking, either by declaring just 5 minutes later on the coupon (really, just 5 I swear) or park where they shouldn’t, end up playing a dicey game of cat-and-mouse.
She is the leveler of society, meting out punishment to all who transgress without regard for who you are (unless you’ve got a diplomatic license plate) in typically efficient fashion. Once she punches the numbers into that infernal machine of hers that she carries around, it prints out the dreaded white slip that all drivers loathe seeing on their windscreen. Those of us who seek to drive on the crowded roads must submit to her power, resigned to the fact that she represents an extension of that unseen force that will not take no for an answer. Some have tried asking for mercy, begging forgiveness after being caught red-handed while cursing themselves for spotting her just a minute too late. All to no avail.
But in the face of adversity and oppression, a little beacon of light shines in the form of solidarity amongst those liable for punishment. Complete strangers become accomplices in spreading the word of her arrival, and coupons that still have time left on them are passed around in the carpark, the underlying principle being that it’s better to let that little bit of money spent help someone else than to let it all go to that unseen force.
The Parking Coupon. A unique Singapore icon and unifying force of the disparate drivers.
And when she does appear, it doesn’t matter which societal strata you belong to. CEO to chef, businessman to deliveryman, all are subject to her scrutiny and the consequences of being found wanting. On any other day she might appear benign, but once she dons her unmistakable trademark garb she possesses a power invested in her by an unseen force that makes its presence felt through minions like herself.
She is…the Parking Coupon Aunty.
It’s funny how an otherwise homely-looking middle-aged woman can wield so much power over the lives and decisions of all drivers. In a country where cars are ridiculously expensive to begin with and fitted by law with electronic transceivers for the sole purpose of extracting money from the sucker behind the wheel, traffic fines and parking summonses rub copious amounts of salt into the gaping wounds already sustained by car owners. As such, those of a slightly subversive nature who try to save a little on parking, either by declaring just 5 minutes later on the coupon (really, just 5 I swear) or park where they shouldn’t, end up playing a dicey game of cat-and-mouse.
She is the leveler of society, meting out punishment to all who transgress without regard for who you are (unless you’ve got a diplomatic license plate) in typically efficient fashion. Once she punches the numbers into that infernal machine of hers that she carries around, it prints out the dreaded white slip that all drivers loathe seeing on their windscreen. Those of us who seek to drive on the crowded roads must submit to her power, resigned to the fact that she represents an extension of that unseen force that will not take no for an answer. Some have tried asking for mercy, begging forgiveness after being caught red-handed while cursing themselves for spotting her just a minute too late. All to no avail.
But in the face of adversity and oppression, a little beacon of light shines in the form of solidarity amongst those liable for punishment. Complete strangers become accomplices in spreading the word of her arrival, and coupons that still have time left on them are passed around in the carpark, the underlying principle being that it’s better to let that little bit of money spent help someone else than to let it all go to that unseen force.
The Parking Coupon. A unique Singapore icon and unifying force of the disparate drivers.
