Friday, 30 January 2009

Hangovers and the Delusionally Positive Brigade

MOUTH like the sole of a Saharan nomad’s sandal. Throat that sounds like I spent the weekend munching on sandpaper. Eyes so heavy that every blink could end in an instant coma.

The unfortunate thing about rowdy weekends is that they are almost always followed by a torturous Monday and - depending on the severity of the previous few days’ lunacy - sometimes a pretty rough Tuesday and Wednesday.

Feeling like you spent the whole weekend fighting off a family of seriously pissed-off grizzly bears does little for one’s creativity on a Monday morning. Last Monday, however, the suffering could be almost justified as the previous few days had thrown up several reasons to celebrate.

It all began on Saturday afternoon with a nail-biting victory for Bruff over Old Crescent out in Kilballyowen.

Two previous meetings this year had thrown up one victory for each side and Saturday’s fixture would decide who could claim bragging rights for the rest of the season.

My many friends affiliated with Old Crescent should be warned that I will be exerting that particular right at regular intervals over the next few months. When in a particularly boastful mood, you will find me intolerable.

Saturday evening brought another victory as Yours Truly took home a gong at the Mid-West Arts, Media and Culture Awards. Being neither arty nor cultured, the award was clearly in recognition of my work here in this paper.

If you think you hear a horn being tooted by its owner, you’re not mistaken.

Then on Sunday, Munster’s comprehensive victory over Montauban gave more reason for revelry. That evening, however, the realization dawned that - bar a major disturbance in the spacetime continuum - Monday morning was speeding our way like an out-of-control freight train, packed with headaches and cottonmouth.]

“Can’t anybody stop it?”

“Afraid not Mister, you better get home for a wash and some sleep before it’s time to suit and boot up for another week of work.”

Yet even on mornings such as last Monday - when my mood is somewhere between unsociable and murderous - it never occurs to me that I’d like to be doing any other kind of work.

I’d just love if attendance was optional on Mondays and Fridays, lunch was three hours long and comfy beds were provided in-house for those times when you feel like a snooze. Hell, I’m an award-winner now, they might just listen to a suggestion like that.

No you can’t

THE “You can do anything if you put your mind to it” mantra has always bothered me immensely, for no reason other than it’s obviously the talk of a blathering half-wit.

A motto for the Delusionally Positive Brigade the world over, this particular phrase has the potential to do far more harm than good.

What if, for instance, I had announced to my family at an early age that the only thing I desired in life was a career in the NBA?

Even at that stage in life, it would have been quite obvious to my parents that I wasn’t going to be the first Hogan in generations to reach the six foot mark. Therefore, they would have sensibly advised me to set out goals that were a little more realistic.

An average seconds rugby player? Perhaps. A world-class basketball player? Come on sonny boy, get real.

If either mammy or daddy had been so reckless as to say “You can do anything if you put your mind to it”, I may have spent years of wasted toil, trying to achieve the blatantly unachievable.

Irish Entrepreneur Magazine did nothing for realistic ambitions last week with the launch of its campaign titled ‘You can do anything’ which, in fairness, has the noble aim of encouraging entrepreneurism in Ireland.

But why make your slogan so all-encompassing? What’s wrong with ‘You can do anything as long as it’s within reason and your physical and mental limitations’?

Some friendly advice

Continuing with the negativity this week, I’d like to have an ever so slight, friendly, barely-noticeable dig at Live 95 FM.

Not so long ago, I provoked the ire of another local radio station with a less than complimentary comment on its news broadcasts so I shall try my best to tread very carefully as I have no desire to make any more enemies in the broadcasting world.

That said, something really has to be done about 95 FM’s daytime playlist. Remember the Tony Rich Project? Someone on the Dock Road certainly does because ‘Nobody Knows’, his one and only big hit from 1995, is played at least three times a week on Live 95 FM.

And how about Eagle Eye Cherry? His song, ‘Save Tonight’, reached about number six in the charts back in 1997 but that doesn’t stop it from getting as much airplay as good old Tony Rich.

And then there’s also Green Day’s ‘Time of Your Life’, now most commonly heard being murdered by pimply teenagers who have just learned how to play a few guitar chords, but still getting banged out a few times weekly on 95 FM also.

Please don’t take this as heartfelt criticism, more of an impassioned plea in the name of all that is tasteful to change the playlist just a little.

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