Noiseless Chatter Archive

An explanation of why things are quiet around here is probably due, along with a few other items of housekeeping. To wit: – It’s quiet. The holidays were busy for me, both in personal and professional terms, and if you didn’t notice we had a grand ol’ time around here in the runup to Christmas. Now, however, I’m definitely enjoying some recovery time. I get to focus on other things, read some books, brainstorm creative things I’ll never get around to doing, and having nightmares about that zombie game on Wii U. That doesn’t indicate a lack of interest in the blog, but it does speak to the seductive comfort of downtime. Also, coincidentally, this blog was started last February, which means I also missed out on January of last year. Owing to this coincidental nothingness, I think I’ll plan on always setting January aside as my holiday break. Doing one in December would make more sense, but then I couldn’t put together any more awesome Christmas features so NUTS TO T...

Merry Christmas, everyone! I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of my friends, collaborators and readers for your help and contributions during my 12 Days of Christmas feature. I was a bit nervous about it since 12 articles spanning multiple collaborators was a daunting prospect, but not only did everyone deliver as promised, but the writing was fantastic and the episode selections were wonderful. Thanks to everyone who wrote or read anything…I genuinely appreciate it, and I thank you so much for helping me to make this the blog that it is. The feature ended yesterday because…well, I figured nobody in their right minds would bother to visit Noiseless Chatter on Christmas. (There’s a lot of porn you should be watching instead. And family time, I guess.) But just in case you’re here, I’d like to offer a sincere and warm thanks for being such a great audience. Here’s to lots more growth in the new year. And in case you missed it, or would just like to relive so...

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Ben Gallivan gave to us… “Humbug!…Humbug!!! Humbug, Mr Baldrick?” Do Americans have mint humbugs? Do they sell them at confectioners in outdated imperial measures like they do here in the UK? Well, let it be known that I visited my local confectioners here in sunny Cardiff, UK earlier today and was charged a frankly extortionate £2.23 (around $3.60) for a tiny bag of them. No wonder Ebeneezer Blackadder is pissed (off). Anyway, to business. Blackadder and his compadres are something of legend in these parts. For the last 30 years, Mr E. Blackadder, Mr S. Baldrick and the other characters whose names and titles change with every series have become somewhat of a national treasure and with good reason. “Blackadder’s Christmas Carol” was set in between the Georgian era – that of Blackadder The Third and that of The Great War which featured in the never bettered Blackadder Goes Forth , planting us well and truly in the middle of the Victorian...

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Zach Kaplan gave to us… Every nerd has something they collect. Some try to track down every issue of their favorite comic book, some relish rare video games, and others are simply satisfied with collecting themselves after a brutal de-pantsing. I collected the work of Dr. Seuss. Growing up, my bookshelves were filled with all number of works by Seuss, both under his usual monicker and pseudonyms Theo LeSieg and Rosetta Stone. I had rare books like his risqué adult novel The Seven Lady Godivas , collections of his World War II-era comics and advertisements and a copy of his terrible movie, The 500 Fingers of Dr. T . My father would back-order out-of-print works for me, and my favorite place to visit was the book store. So, needless to say, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! was the only special that fully suited my youthful Christmas needs. Like most of Seuss’s books, How the Grinch Stole Christmas! outlined an important message: Christmas doe...

On the tenth day of Christmas, Ryan gave to us… Before I begin, I need to make it absolutely clear that I was hesitant in writing about this episode. Not because I didn’t have much to say, or because it didn’t affect me; quite the opposite in both of those regards, to be perfectly honest. It’s just that everything I’m going to reveal in this article is so pretentious and awful and disgusting that you’ll loathe me to the point of sheer hatred. You’re going to doubt the authenticity of what I’m about to admit, either due to denial or the hope that I’m not legally insane. I would make fun of anybody else for writing this same deconstruction, so I’ll wearily admit to my hypocrisy now. This is your warning. I’m sorry to spoil the grace and holiday charm you were possibly expecting, but this is going to be the worst thing you have ever read. An episode of Everybody Loves Raymond changed my life. Yeah. The show in question revolves around Ray tryin...

On the ninth day of Christmas Philip (that’s, uh…me…) gives to us… When I was little, I loved Pee-wee Herman. And looking back, I’m pleased that I don’t have to wonder why. The show was, and is, a sheer delight. As Pee-wee, Paul Reubens taps into everything great about being a kid. The limitless wonder of daily life, the magic inherent in the world around us, and the sheer addictiveness of simple imagination. The concept that Pee-wee wasn’t a kid, but was an adult, was revolutionary to me; this was a grownup who understood. It wasn’t dad, or a teacher, or an uncle. They had jobs and responsibilities and things to do…and so no matter how much you might love them, they didn’t understand . There was always going to be a barricade, an age-defined breaking point between youth and adulthood. Pee-wee Herman didn’t bridge that gap so much as he simply existed in isolation. He was a glorious, addictively cheerful exception to reality. He epitomized something we, as child...

On the eighth day of Christmas, David Black gave to us… In the run up to Christmas in the year 2000, The League Of Gentlemen published A Local Book For Local People and I wanted it. I was pretty certain that I wouldn’t get it for Christmas as my mother was unlikely to buy me a book that purported to be wrapped in human skin. It’s a scrapbook collecting together newspaper articles, leaflets, postcards and letters about, to and from the people of Royston Vasey. It’s fantastic. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Comedy tie-in books are never this good. I bought it as a Christmas present to myself and pored over every page. Nestled towards the back of the book is an illustrated short story called “The Curse Of Karrit Poor,” which I skipped right over. I looked at the pictures, but I never read a word of it and I can’t explain why. I eagerly awaited The League Of Gentlemen ’s Christmas Special that year and when it finally arrived I was not disappointed. The opening sequen...