The Inexperienced Curry-Taster.

Dear RadioViewers,

My last post was somewhat depressing, so I thought I’d follow up with a more light-hearted article.

The following is a true story, although it did not happen to me.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

These are notes from an inexperienced curry taster named Frank, who was visiting Phoenix, Durban from the U.S.

“Recently I was honoured to be selected as a judge at a curry cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table asking directions to the beer wagon when the call came. I was assured by the other two judges (couple of local Indians) that the curry wouldn’t be all that spicy, and besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted. Here are the scorecards from the event.”

 

Curry # 1: Manoj’s Maniac Mobster Monster Curry

JUDGE ONE: A little too heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.

JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavour. Very mild.

FRANK: Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that’s the worst one. These Indians are crazy.

 

Curry # 2: Applesamy’s Afterburner Curry

JUDGE ONE: Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.

JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavour, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.

FRANK: Keep this out of reach of children! I’m not sure what I am supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.

 

Curry # 3: Farouk’s Famous Burn Down the Barn curry

JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse curry! Great kick. Needs more beans.

JUDGE TWO: A beanless curry, a bit salty, good use of red peppers.

FRANK: Call Colesburg, I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now, get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back; now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I’m getting shit-faced from all the beer.

 

Curry # 4: Barbu’s Black Magic

JUDGE ONE: Black bean curry with almost no spice. Disappointing.

JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a curry.

FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it, is it possible to burn-out taste buds? Savathree, the bar maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills; that 300 lb. bitch is starting to look HOT, just like this nuclear waste I’m eating. Is curry an aphrodisiac?

 

Curry # 5: Laveshnee’s Legal Lip Remover

JUDGE ONE: Meaty, strong curry. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.

JUDGE TWO: Curry using shredded beef; could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.

FRANK: My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her curry had given me brain damage. Savathree saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from a pitcher. I wonder if I’m burning my lips off? It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those Indians!

 

Curry # 6: Vera’s Very Vegetarian Variety

JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety curry. Good balance of spice and peppers.

JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.

FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I shit myself when I farted and I’m worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that slut Savathree, she must be kinkier than I thought. Can’t feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone!

 

Curry # 7: Sugash’s Screaming Sensation Curry

JUDGE ONE: A mediocre curry with too much reliance on canned peppers.

JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of curry peppers at the last moment. I should note that I am worried about Judge Number 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.

FRANK: You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t feel damn thing. I’ve lost the sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with curry which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava-like shit to match my damn shirt. At least during the autopsy they’ll know what killed me. I’ve decided to stop breathing, it’s too painful. Screw it, I’m not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4 inch hole in my stomach.

 

Curry # 8: Hansraj’s Mount Saint Curry

JUDGE ONE: A perfect ending, this is a nice blend curry, safe for all, not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.

JUDGE TWO: This final entry is a good, balanced curry, neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge Number 3 passed out, fell over and pulled the curry pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he’s going to make it. Poor Yank, wonder how he’d have reacted to a really hot curry?

FRANK: (editor’s note: Judge #3 was unable to report)

I hope you enjoyed that.

Yours,

Pseudonym ×

Befriending Friends

Hell yeah! Schools done! I’m so excited to chill with everybody. Hey… why don’t I plan a gathering with some friends that wanted to hang out with me this Friday… yeah, it’ll be fun.

—

So in our group was Jeremy (excuse me while I puke), Tiffany, Beth, Chrissie, Omar, Andrew, (more people were there, but they aren’t very relavent to this rant story) & I.

As half of us went to shop for bottle openers, the other stayed to receive the booze Jolly Ranchers from our boot. While we were looking for the bottle openers, Omar explained how he had other plans with Jeremy, but ditched to come here, and since Jeremy had nothing else to do, he came to these plans, and was being a dick about it. Saying stupid slurs to Omar such as, “we should be at ——,” “why are we even here,” and “this was a dumb descision,” etc. Omar, getting really agitated, got pretty angry at him, although it has been burning up for the past few weeks:

FRIEND-SHIP-WRECK #1

Alright, so we had the liquor Jolly Ranchers, and we were about to head off to the park. Walking there, our group kind of split into two, the cocky jackass, I believe notable mentioned in various notes as Jeremy, trying to flirt with a bunch of girls. And me and a few buds in front; living in something we call ‘reality’. I was talking with one person whom I will not name, and he said that he thought Jeremy was an asshole, as do I;

FRIEND-SHIP-WRECK #2

When we got to the park, we popped open our beers Jones’, and sat down to drink, while Jeremy and Tiffany set off to play on the jungle gym, sober (you know what they say; don’t drink and climb). After a while, Chrissie, and Beth join the two, and stop drinking. Things got boring with the rest of the people sitting down, so Andrew & I walked over to the swings where those people were stationed. We quietly sit down, holding onto our beers Jones’ and attemp to join in on the conversation.

“Umm… we’re having a PC guys,” said Jeremy in an unbelievably disgusting tone.

“What the f*¢k is a PC??” I asked, being the smartass that people know me as.

After they explained that by PC they meant ‘private conversation’, instead of ‘personal computer’, they managed to shoe us away, so Andrew & I went to sit down in the skate-park area, along with two of our friends whom I shall not name. Long story short, they shoed us away too, for another PC. Sucks so far, eh? I mean, I freakin’ planned this night, yet almost everyone has the nerve to exclude me.

I led Andy to the benches of the baseball diamond, where we sat there talking, and were soon joined by Omar who had also been excluded, if you will, from everyone. He explained that the swinging crew told him to leave, cause they didn’t want any alcohol around them.

*Now I understand if they don’t want to drink, but they aren’t naïve little kids. They’ve gotten wasted themselves… what’s someone drinking a beer Jones gonna do if he’s just sitting near them?! ALSO! I gave them advanced notice that all that kinda stuff would be going on! If they don’t like it, they don’t have to show up. That’s just plain rude.*

So anyways, us three were talking about how we’ve noticed some change in Tiffany; she seems more preppy, and acts like she will ditch any of her friends to be liked by the “cool kids”. She’s also been a bitch to all three of us lately, and doesn’t talk to us at all anymore. We turn around for a glance at the perfect example: she was doing a spider with Jeremy on a swing. We somehow bring up how People think Omar and Tiffany are lovers, with Andrew & I saying that she walks around saying, “Omar’s been liking me for 5 years!” His (Omar’s) jaw suddenly drops, saying that this, and how she acts like she hasn’t given a shit about him for the past few weeks completely changes his values on their relationship;

FRIEND-SHIP-WRECK #3

Then, I had to, uh… ‘drain the sea monster’, so I went to an outhouse with Chrissie, and I walked her back to the jungle gym, being the gentleman that I am… not like anybody there was going to say “hi” to me or anything… But as it turns out, Andrew was calling me, cause I had to come with him to pick up a friend that was dropping by for a few minutes. As we all went to the jungle gym to hang out with Sari (that girl) before she had to go, Jeremy, being that jackass that he is, decided to ask me if I’m still doing a video blog/guitar thing with him next week. This was only to impress Sari, cause she seems to be amazing by his novice music capabilities. I didn’t respond cause I know he is only nice to me when he wants something. We haven’t been on the best road of friendship… and he had yet to thank me for inviting him to this at all:

FRIEND-SHIP-WRECK #4

Well, the gathering ended pretty quickly… We had to run to 711 so Andrews dad wouldn’t find out that we were drinking… long story. I tried talking to Beth on msn after. Told her that I didn’t have too much fun… want to hear her response?

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

YOU’RE SORRY TO HEAR THAT?!?! SORRY TO HEAR THAT?!?!?! Maybe I should be the sorry one. You go around acting like my friend, not to mention the fact that I’m freakin’ related to you, and yet you don’t have the time to listen to my problems and help me?? Or is it that you don’t even care. I thought I could depend on you, but I guess you just crashed and ended up in

FRIEND-SHIP-WRECK #5

Who ever thought that so many relationships could turn in the course of 4 hours? I certainly didn’t. Readers, I know I constantly ask you for your comments, but just for this one post, I’d really appreciate your input. Plus, if you got the whole ‘friendship + shipwreck = friend-ship-wreck’ thing, you gained 10 points.

So for all of you who had a good Friday night, congratulations. I spent the night swearing under my breath.

-Dane C.

Extra! Extra!

Colours Not Dead!

Believed to have faked their own death to avoid their employee

The colours, recently reported as dead by several sources, have just now been discovered in hiding. The colours, including but not limited to Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Violet, were found huddling together in a small shack deep within the Fangorn Forests of Middle Earth. When asked about why they chose this locale to hide in, they responded that Hobbits are, apparently, colour blind. A rescue team, sent to search for their bodies, found the group by using a bloodhound to track down the colour Red, who was discovered with the others . The colours were whisked away to a local hospital, where they were given a physical and psychiatric evaluation.

“Well, Green looks a little sickly, and Blue seems a tad depressed, but the rest are all healthy,” says Dr. Greenspan, the chief medical examiner in the case.

When questioned as to the motivation for their disappearance, Grey responded, being the most neutral of the group.

“We had to do it. We were being driven crazy by this guy who kept following us… Klimt? Clit? Oh, yes, Clint. We found him in this bus stop, about to slit his wrists, but Yellow managed to brighten up his day, and since then, he’s been following us around. We gave the bum a job at our bakery, but he was convinced he was a prostitute and kept trying to seduce Violet. It was very disturbing. However, when he began to write bad poetry, that’s when we couldn’t handle it anymore. We left a suicide note and ran away.”

Currently, the colours have been released from the hospital and have entered the Federal Witness Protection program. The latest rumours state that Green is in a business relationship with Al Gore, under the assumed name of Climate Change.

Many are unsure if the colours will be returning to their position at the blog “RadioView.” It is confirmed that they are not dead. But are they ready for the public eye? Only time will tell.

Movie Review: Camp Rock

So, today I tuned into Camp Rock, the new TV movie, (and I’m sure eventual franchise) of Disney Channel. Now, I did not watch this ‘movie’ because I wanted to…but because my brother wanted to. So to sum up this movie I will use one word: Cheesy.

Not good cheesy, like Grease; but cheesy ala High School Musical 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 combined. Please note that only two have been made. This movie contains dancing (which I assume was choreographed by the same person that choreographs the Hannah Montana music videos), singing, (songs presumably written by my 6 year old brother) and of course, acting, (if you could even call it that!).

Yes, the dancing, singing and acting are horrible, but sadly, this does not compare to the horrible directing by Matthew Diamond. His close ups, flashback technic and use of cliche after cliche will literally make you sick.

I will cut this review short, because if I continue, I will end up vomiting. So to give you an idea of how good bad this movie is, I will leave you some examples.

The Writing:

I didn’t know you were that good, and when someone’s that good, someone should tell them.

The Songs:

Too cool for my dress
These shades don’t leave my head
Everything you say is so irrelevant
You follow in my lead
You want to be like me
But you just don’t want to be loved and hated

…

But I’m too cool
Yeah I’m too cool
To know you
Don’t take it personal
Don’t get emotional
You know it’s the truth
…
You think your hot but I’m sunny, you’re not
…
You are still allowed to be in my crew

And that’s only from one song…

The Acting:

Imagine President Bush and Barack Obama doing a musical together.

Now, I know that money is imoportant, but I doubt that it’s so important that they couldn’t have rewritten the screenplay to this movie a couple of thousand times!

and I thought High School Musical was bad…

Four Colors and a Funeral

Family, friends, acquaintances and lovers; thank you so much for coming today. The colors would have really appreciated it! I knew the colors for almost one year; the best year of my life. I actually remember how we met…oh it was so silly! I was waiting for a bus when I realized that I didn’t have any money. I was about to slit my wrist, but then the colors came and offered me a job…I worked for the colors for a little over 8 months…they were so good to me! They even told me that I was the bestest prostitute they’d ever had!

How I miss you. I wrote a poem for you, my colors…I will share it with all of you:

Owe that hurts, it really does!

I feel something inside my body,

is it love?

is it pleasure?

is it regret?

No.

It is you, the colors.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I don’t know how Elton does it!

Goodbye Colors! I will never forget you.

-Clint

Book Review: A Clockwork Orange

(Sorry I haven’t done any book reviews lately, guys…)

I loved this book. It really was a work of art. The entire book is written in “Nadsat” (or “Teen”) speak. These words are a made up slang -  Russian mixed with English. At the beginning it’s rather hard to understand; the first paragraph is as follows:

 

“…There was me, Alex, an’ my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, an’ Dim, Dim being really dim, an’ we sat in the Korova Kilkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. The Korova Milkbar was a milk-plus mesto, an’ you may, O my brother, have forgotten what these mestos were like, things changing so skorry these days, an’ everybody very quick to forget, newspapers not being read much neither. Well, what they sold there was milk plus something else. They had no license for selling liquor, but there was no law yet against prodding some of the new veshches which they used to put in the old moloko, so you could peet it with vellocet or synthemesc or drencom or one of two other veshches which would give you a nice quiet horrorshow fifiteen minutes admiring Bog An’ All His Holy Angels An’ Saints in your left shoe with lights bursting all over your mozg. Or you could peet milk with knives in it, as we used to say, an’ this would sharpen you up an’ make you ready for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, an’ that was what we were peeting this evening I’m starting to story off with.”

 

(Long first paragraph, I know.)

 

But that is just to give you an idea of the type of language that’s in this book, which is really quite amazing, seeing as Anthony Burgess made it all up himself, an’ kept the whole book this way.

 

Now, I’ll give you a few minutes to try to figure out what that means before I /tell/ you what it means. It won’t be exactly word for word, seeing as his wording an’ phrases are rather off, so I’ll give you the basic idea.

 

“I, Alex, was sitting with my three friends Pete, Georgie, an’ Dim, (an’ Dim is awfully Dim, hence the name) an’ we were trying to make up our minds about what to do with the evening, even though it wasn’t good weather. The Korova Milkbar was a place that served spiked milk, an’ you may have forgotten what these places were like, things changing so quickly these days, an’ everybody very quick to forget, newspapers not being read much either. Well, what they had was milk with something else added. They didn’t have a license for selling alcohol, but there wasn’t any law against using some of the new things which they used to put into the old milk, so you could drink it with {Type of Drug} or {Type of Drug} or one of two other things which would give you a nice quiet good fifteen minutes admiring God in your left shoe with lights bursting all over your brain. Or you could drink milk with “knives” in it, as we used to say an’ this would sharpen you up an’ make you ready for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, an’ that is what we were drinking (milk with “knives”) this evening, the evening I’m starting the story with.”

 

Makes a lot more sense with English, eh?

Anyway, I went all bezoomny over Nadsat speak, O my brothers, an’ after reading the book I had been attempting to govereet in such a way, but none too many a chelloveck ponied what I skazzatted, so I gave that up right skorry.

 

 

 

This book is about a young man who gets into a lot of trouble with his gang members, I suppose. He considers himself the leader, an’ then his followers. At the beginning of the book, they go around town after dark making mischief, robbing stores, beating people up, harassing them, getting into fights, an’ raping women.

            As it turns out, Alex isn’t the nice person a main character is usually portrayed to me. He is rather self centered, an’ believes nothing is ever his fault.

            At points though, you do find yourself taking Alex’s side, when it really is the immoral thing to do, as taking the side of the people he is wronging would be the normal human response. (Maybe I’m just slightly insane…)

            So one night, his “friends” double cross him, an’ the millicents/rozzes/police catch him, an’ after beating him up, which really gives you a perspective on the type of people they have running this society, they lock him in jail.

            He plays the sweet little boy role in jail, hoping they’ll give him parole. Instead, after two years, they give him the chance to be in a room by himself, with proper food an’ sleeping habits, an’ all he has to do all day is take a shot, eat, an’ watch films.

            This is supposed to cure him of his “wickedness” in a mere fortnight. Alex, of course, being the impatient teenager that he is, sees no problem in this arrangement, an’ quickly agrees.

            Unfortunately, the process doesn’t go as Alex planned, an’ he becomes a tool, a toy, for the researchers testing this process on him. They care not for his feelings, his, mind, or his life after leaving their institute, merely whether or not their theory proves to be legitimate.

            Alex returns to the “wild”, to find everything changed. Nothing is the way it was two years previously, an’ his life is ruined. He tries to seek help, but there is no one to help him. It’s Alex against the world.

            Does being bad in your previous years affect you in your future ones? Is “being a teenager” something you grow out of? Do people not change? Is there any way for Alex to go back to the way he was before, before he was fucked up psychologically? Will he have learned anything? Do people learn from experiences, enough to persuade them to change for the better?

 

            Make sure you either get the new edition, or the British one, because the old American edition dropped the last chapter, for God knows why. Trust me, the last chapter changed the entire meaning of the story. Your book should have 21 chapters. Three parts, seven chapters in each. You are being ripped off if you only have 20 chapters. The movie, being based off the old American version, does not include the last chapter. (Get the one with the cover that looks like the picture I posted, that’s the one I have.)

 

This is a book based on the psychological innermost workings of the human mind, regarding change an’ society. The name “A Clockwork Orange” is the idea that a human has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour an’ juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil or, in this case, the Government.

 

It’s honestly a real horrorshow book, an’ if you read it, we can govereet Nadsat together, an’ I won’t have to do it on my oddy knocky. :]

 

So, have at it, O my brothers!

 

 

CRAZY SHIT! A New Writer

Hello RadioViewers,

You have a new writer, Jared Naley. He- wait, that’s me… I’m very excited to be working with this team of talnted writers and can’t wait to get started on some great content for the summer.

Anyway, enough with the cheesy crap, I plan to use RadioView as a sort of open journal to post interesting things encountered in the day to day summer life of an adolescent. This, as well as stuff I find on the internet that I find appropriate and interesting for readers and contributers.

Jared Naley.

Whoever comlained about the pretty colours, you have no soul.

Pseudonym †

We Apologize to the Eyeballs of Our Readers

Why hello there!

Due to some recent complaints, we are going to have a ban on fluorescent colors; so this is directed towards you, writers.

Since this does somewhat suck; I figured why not write a crummy story about it. The first thing that popped into my head, was all the colors were having a war… but then I realized that that idea came from a movie I had seen in grade 5 art class.

-Dane C.

Just go home.

As of last night, I had family friends from out of town come to visit for the weekend.

I used to go to school with their daughter, before I moved away, an’ we were like, BFF since we were two.

Over the years, I suppose we both changed. Or maybe she changed, an’ I stayed the same. Either way, we aren’t the same people we used to be, nor do we have the same friendship we once did.

Last time she visited was a year or two ago, an’ I was excited. Turns out, she was not excited about “wasting” her spring break in Canada, not at home with her friends. Obviously, when she explained this to me, she didn’t mean that she was unhappy to be here. She would just rather be elsewhere.

Either way, things didn’t exactly turn out as planned. In fact, she was overly bitchy, an’ just flat out mean.

So you can imagine the panic I went through, trying to make everything perfect for her arrival, so as to not have a repeat of her last visit.

As the date of our reunion come closer, I began to realize that I was just plain not excited for her to come.

But, of course, come she did. Nothing drastic has happened yet, but I can feel the awkward tension as both of us try to give the other one space while being polite an’ acting all BFF.

Not only do I have to watch myself around her, but I can’t do all the things I like to do alone. Like, be on the computer. It is rude for me to be online for hours on end while I have a guest, who I should be spending time with, although neither of us really want to spend time with each other.

She /is/ nice (to an extent), fun to be around (to an extent), an’ a good friend (to an extent), but it just isn’t working for us. We’re skating on thin ice. It seems that almost everything about me bugs her, an’ I feel like I have to impress her.

Look, I’m not a loner in my new life. Look, I know my way around my city. Look, it’s awesome here. Look, I don’t need you anymore.

Immature, eh?

Immature or not, it seems to be a recurring thought in my mind that she is constantly judging me, storing information in the back of her mind so she can go home an’ say “Wow, B. Casey is really ____ now! I even ____ when I visited her. An’ everything there is so ____. I can’t believe she _____”.

Paranoid? Probably.

But maybe it’s just experience.

-B. Casey