The morning after

It is the day after the Eurovision semifinal and there is a bt of queasiness in the air.

No, Estonia did not advance. The local TV voiceover tried to generate some suspense each time they opened an envelope, but unfortunately it was already clear from the boo-birds during the performance: Estonia could not parlay its oddball anti-song into fan favourite.

Now there's a feeling that you might have after a party, when in your mind you dazzled everyone all night with deft satirical jabs at the hosts, such as "Lobster!" and "I've had it"...and then you end up getting the bill, too -- 2 million kroons.

A feeling of "what exactly were we thinking?" has set in.

A "wait a second: maybe this wasn't that funny" moment, followed immediately by "why was this supposed to be funny?"

And the fucking economy only grew 0.4%.

Someone close to me was just saying she was celebrated for something when in high school -- "monohumour". She would be rolling in the aisles at her own jokes. Luckily this itself was funny in a meta sort of way.

I viewed most of the proceedings in last night's semi-final with monohorror, of course, especially Dima Bilan's ever-more desperate attempt (oddly, intonationally flat rather than sharp) attempt to convince us he "Believes" in which I think the violinist actually hit 11, as in the Spinal Tap guitarist's metaphor, but not on the volume scale but as in points for overwroughtness.

But it seems that in Estonia's case, what was supposed to be a "small drily ironic country sticking it to those Eurobastards" was more like...monohumour. Maybe the far better thing would have been to stay home, like Kosovo did (check this).

Next time, stick with small bits of shouted nonsense like "Perrea perrea!" and have a genre.