The Man at the Pub

...27b/6

2010-09-24T14:31:00.005+10:00

I think I have just found my new favourite funniest person with website in the world.

David Thorne and 27b/6.

This is the guy who tried to pay an overdue account with a drawing of a spider. You may have seen it as I generally lag around six months behind popular folklore. Well, I think he's highly entertaining anyway, and look forward to laughing my head off this weekend as I have been annoying my colleagues the last few days and I suspect they think I am finally going insane.

If you have any sense, you've probably never logged on to Chatroulette. I did briefly, and soon realised it should be called Penisroulette. But no doubt you have heard of it. Here is a sample of what David Thorne did there on the rare occasions he didn't find a fat man playing with his penis...

Enjoy!

...fried rice

2010-09-08T15:57:00.011+10:00

Poor Stephanie Rice. She tweeted "suck on that faggots!" in the excitement of Australia beating South Africa at some game involving a ball or something. I'm so offended. Young people never spoke like that in my day.

She has since apologised, saying at a tearful press conference "I've learnt a lot in the last couple of days". I sure hope you have Stephanie...

Lesson 1. Don't drink and tweet
Lesson 2. Don't tweet

*Disclaimer: This post may be just a thinly veiled excuse to upload a gratuitous swimsuit shot of Stephanie Rice

...my sweet pea

2010-09-03T23:23:00.006+10:00

At the request of the fine author of Blurb from the Burbs, here's my daughter at 3 months.

It's been amazing watching her develop. She's growing very nicely and hasn't been sick yet. She sleeps well too. I'm a rich man. And with Father's day coming, I'm expecting my first box of hankies. How excitement!

...i like stories

2010-08-31T21:40:00.015+10:00

I presume everyone has a friend (or maybe it's you), the kind whose life is like a finely scripted black comedy. The friend who is terribly unlucky in a variety of endeavours, though usually from backing the wrong horse, often with hilarious results. A friend who's life Shakespeare could have written another two decades of tragi-comedies about.

I have a friend like that, but fortunately he has a great sense of humour regarding the regular mini-disasters that pepper his life.

This friend, let's call him Peter, has dog with a human name, let's call him Phillip. Phillip is a labradoodle, and in the free-spirited manner of his owner, is completely untrained. Well Pete's mother came around one Sunday morning to visit him and his two kids, who stay at Dad's every second weekend. This Sunday morning Pete flushed the toilet after using it, only to find it blocked, and its latest contents came spewing up and out across the floor. After a while of running around with scoops and mops, plungers etc. in an unsuccessful attempt to unblock the loo, Pete's mum revealed that she needed to use the toilet, and rather urgently. Pete had until this point resisted calling the emergency plumber, being in a rental with a lousy landlord and thus no good prospect of getting the bill refunded. But mum couldn't wait any longer by this stage and very crossly headed out the back with toilet paper in hand. She returned a while later saying "I hope you're happy, making your old mum have to go to the toilet outside!". As Pete recounted to me, it's bad enough having your dunny flood your house without your neurotic mum having to crap in your backyard".

A short time later Phillip came bounding through the backdoor, looking pleased as punch. Pete bent down to pat his beloved pooch, and then the smell hit him like brickwall. Phillip looked up, brown smears around his mouth which could literally be described as a 'shit eating grin'.

At this stage of the story I was on the floor, my sides hurting. Pete laughed "It's bad enough that your toilet floods and your mum shits in your backyard, without your dog eating it".

...swingers

2010-08-25T20:28:00.000+10:00

What is it with 'swinging voters'? Have they no conviction? Have they no loyalty?

Do they change football team mid-season because their team is having a bad run? Because they don't like the current coach? True supporters know that you have to take the bad with the good. Gah!

Someone once said that the people get the government they deserve. I like that saying, and it would seem Australians don't actually deserve a functional government, which is probably about right. The downside is that now the nation will have its decisions made by three cranky farmers and a gay hippy (not that there's anything wrong with being a gay hippy), so congratulations to those who live in their electorates.

Ah, Australia. Disfunctional one day, off the rails the next.

...phone camera

2010-08-19T01:18:00.003+10:00

I like my phone camera. I never thought much of it until I downloaded the images the other day. It's a pretty standard 2008 Nokia type with bugger all megapixels and a dirty lens, but it's good for just capturing random stuff, little slices of life, and things I see and think "Hmmm. That might make an interesting painting one day".

So in an attempt to make this blog more, you know, kinda personal, I thought I'd share some with you.

On the road

Work takes me to the darndest places.

Community Cup 2009 (possible painting #1)

Big trees rock

Possible painting #2

Nieces are cool

Church's sign in place of former sign reads "We forgive you for taking our sign"

The last patch of native vegetation in the Hunter Valley. In a year, all this will be another open-cut coal mine.

Main St. Marysville, where the town used to be.

Nephews are dorks

Factory after rain (possible painting #3)

A tree in my backyard

Moochy Von Schtinkbum

Trentham Falls

Self portrait with sun on back

Barmy for Barmah

Sunrise over refinery

So lucky to have all this so close to Melbourne

It's worth turning 34 to have fried icecream

Daughters are cool. Phoebe at one week.

...priceless vox pop

2010-08-11T23:09:00.004+10:00

I think this lady speaks for a lot of us...

...the wizdom of the elders

2010-07-29T11:55:00.007+10:00

I just heard that Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem are in Ubud, Bali, making a screen adaptation of the best-selling, quasi self-help book Eat, Pray, Love. It reminded me a trip I made to Ubud a few years ago as a side to a friend's wedding on the south coast at Uluwatu. One of the party (who will be known as Silly) at the time had Eat, Pray, Love a the top of her list of such books, which she consumes with disconcerting zeal.

So of course she had to track down the real-life medicine man, 95 year old Ketut Liyer, the oracle of wisdom that features in the book. After paying a small Indonesian fortune for 30 minutes of wisdom, Silly (and some friendly witnesses) began her session. After a while of speaking in riddles, Ketut's eyes widened as he said "P!". "P?" Silly responded and Ketut replied "P!". "P, P, P" Silly pondered out loud. "P. Could it mean my boyfriend, Paul? P, P, P? Maybe it's a reference to my job at Pearsons? P! Wow. It sounds so profound and important, what could it mean?" "Pee!" Ketut replied. "Excuse me, I must go and pee".

After more mind-blowing inanity (from all witness accounts) the group departed, and were handed a business card by Ketut. It read...

Ketut Liyer
Spirtual Healer. Fortune Teller. Taxi Service

So after ripping off gullible western women, for an extra US$20 he will drive you back to your hotel too. What service!

It makes me think about the myth of elderly wisdom in general. Just because someone has been around a long time doesn't mean they are oozing with profound, almost magical knowledge and infinite wisdom. My bro-in-law and I once were about to embark on a 3-day trek in the highlands of Papua. On the second morning of the trip we asked the elderly 'chief' of the village what things we may need to bring on the rest of our trip, considering the mountainous terrain we would encounter and the people we would meet. After a long pause and plenty of chin scratching, he slowly turned and said, "I think..... it would be best for you....... if you should bring...... an umbrella." We didn't have the heart to tell him hat trekkers holding umbrellas look like complete douchebags, even if you do have porters to carry your load. The following morning at another village we asked the chief the same question. "I think..... it would be best for you.... if you should bring....... lots of cigarettes. You can trade them for anything you know". We did know that, and it's true. Forget carrying food and water. A carton of Lucky Strikes can see you through anything in some parts of the world.

...dickheads

2010-07-19T12:38:00.001+10:00

It would seem that government is moving closer to introducing legislation to prevent dickheads from engaging in their dickhead ways in public, or at least from annoying non-dickhead folk with their dickhead behaviour.

This may be a step in the right direction. The rules for the two annual music festivals held at Meredith for childless rock types (no glass, no fires, no dickheads) work surprisingly well. The dickheads are the ones who bring glass and light fires. But in the wider community, the problem lies in identifying who is indeed a dickhead and therefore worthy of prosecution. One hurdle is that the majority of participants in all levels of government (particularly local council) may be affected by these laws, so it is unlikely they will be implemented anytime soon.

But we already have laws for 4-wheel dickheads, aka hoons. People caught for DDD (Dangerous Dickhead Driving) can have their cars or motorbikes impounded for 24 or 48 hours, and can even have their vehicles permanently confiscated on their third offence. But after a few years and thousands of cars confiscated, judging by the regular near death experience that is driving up the Mahoondah Hwy on a Saturday night, I am left with the feeling that the laws just aren't coping. So I'm advocating a return to an old-fashioned approach of policing.

A recently heard a story that many years ago, a young driver was caught doing a big burnout on a public road. Rather than put him in a conga line of dickheads bound for the Magistrates Court, he took him back to the cop shop, gave him a bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush and ordered him not to leave the scene of the crime until he had cleaned every last bit of burned rubber of the road.

There were less dickheads around then, which I suspect is largely due to the important fact that a young man would rather have his car confiscated and/or be jailed than clean up after himself.

...when you have a really, really, really long post heading, so long that's it's even longer than the post itself

2010-07-13T13:34:00.001+10:00

I look good as a thumbnail.

Oh wait...

that's not actually me.

...boris johnson

2010-07-06T09:06:00.017+10:00

I couldn't resist this story I found on the ABC website...

Teachers and parents have criticised a British couple who allow their children to go to school unsupervised.

Oliver and Gillian Schonrock allow their eight-year-old daughter and five-year-old son to cycle the one mile (1.5 kilometre) journey to school on their own. The couple taught their children a route on pavements through the backstreets of the London suburb of Dulwich to teach them independence and self-confidence.

But parents and teachers at the children's junior school say it is irresponsible and dangerous, and the school has told the couple it can refer the matter to social services.

London mayor Boris Johnson has slammed the health and safely rule as "barmy", writing in a newspaper column that he commends the Schonrocks for "taking the sword of common sense to the great, bloated encephalopathic sacred cow of elf [sic] and safety".

I think I like Boris Johnson, the Lord Mayor of London. Even though he's a tory (and I'd hate him if he was my local politician) he's a bit of an outspoken nut (the hair is a giveaway), which I think is a good thing for a Lord Mayor to be. A good Mayor should be a bit eccentric, more clown than politician, to spruik a city, to turn heads. Robert Doyle is starting to warm to the job here in Melbourne. He would have made a lousy Premier, but with his anti-bogan rantings and his April Fools jokes (announcing on morning radio that he'll be building a waterfall and trout fishing pond on the Yarra outside the casino), he's got enough fruit loop in him to serve well. Perhaps the job of village idiot is still alive and well.

Here's some more of Johnson's work...

In 2003 Johnson was investigated for the theft of a cigar case belonging to Tariq Aziz, one of Saddam Hussien's cronies. He eventually returned the case at the owner's request.

In April 2007 Johnson was called upon to resign by the MPs for the city of Portsmouth after claiming in a column for GQ that the city was "one of the most depressed towns in Southern England, a place that is arguably too full of drugs, obesity, underachievement and Labour MPs"

At the conclusion of the 2008 Olympics, Boris gave this famous speech at London House in Beijing. It's an absolute pearler (you can skip the first half of the vid if you are short for time)...

...when aunty disappoints

2010-07-01T14:14:00.008+10:00

I love the ABC. Partly becasue I'm a big nerd and partly because loud advertisements for new cars, dunny cleaner and pimple cream hurt my brain. And then there's commercial programming...

But there are currently two Australian ABC TV programs that really annoy me (well, they don't truly annoy me because I don't watch them).

The Gruen Transfer
Aside from being a shallow platform for Wil Anderson's dated one-liners, I find this show to be just a bunch of ego-mad advertising executives jerking off about how brilliant, important and influential they think they are. Giving them their own TV show just heightens their delusion.

Q and A
Overrated and overhyped, this 'live' show 'where anything can happen' is anything but. The political guests just spew out the predictable party line like they do at any press conference. The questions from the audience at home and in the studio are prescreened and predictable. This may be necessary to some extent, but for me, it did not live up to it's claims. They get an interesting guest from time to time, but they rarely say anything interesting on the night. The token comedian always looks like a fish out of water.

But I'll forgive Aunty for that.

...j-u-l-i-a...

2010-06-24T10:08:00.003+10:00

Reasons why Julia Gillard will make a good PM.

- She's much, much, much better looking than Kevin Rudd.

- She's Victorian.

- She doesn't have kids to distract her.

- She's not Tony Abbott.

- She's a ranga, so she's good for minorities.

- Now we have a female PM, there won't be any wars, just intense negotiations every 28 days.

...when karma runs over your dogma

2010-06-17T18:18:00.001+10:00

According to Wikipedia, the World's most accurate source of information (aside from my blog), the second largest religion practised in Australia other than Christianity is Buddhism. I tried to verify this from the website of the Australian Bureau of Statistics, but was bamboozled by my attempt to confirm this seemingly simple statistic without having to download Excel Streaming Beta Data Statistics Viewer Version 8.1. and trawling through 109 years of ye olde spreadsheeting.

Nicolaus Copernicus - inventor of the spreadsheet, and complete bastard

Buddhists represent a whopping 2.1% of the population. Islam comes in a hefty third (1.7%) and Judaism in fourth spot (0.5%). I'm sure 'Jedi' would have given the other minority religions a run for their money, had it not been disregarded by those humourless statisticians at the last census.

So next time you see a report on Today Tonight about the threat to your security by women wearing head scarves, or hear your local One Nation candidate talking about being 'swamped' by Muslim hordes, fear not. If you get a load of Pauline Hanson claiming that the 'Australian way of life' (whatever that is) is under threat by Islam, or hear claims that soon we will all be living under Sharia law, think again. The numbers say it all folks...it's those Buddhists we should fear!

While you could argue that 2.1% is nary a 'swamping', as Australia's fastest growing religion, Bhuddism is set to soon topple society as we know it. People will be forced to eat tofu burgers at incense point. Steak houses will be converted into Lentil as Anythings (sure its virtually free but the service is lousy). And we'll be forced to listen to Nirvana...the one without drums.

And on the world stage, our once quasi-aggressive nation will adopt a conciliatory stance with our traditional foes, and hold a neutral position on global conflicts. You just can't trust neutrals; you never know whose side they are on.

I think we need a war on inner peace before this gets out of hand. Where's George when you need him?

...an axis of ignorance

2010-06-09T17:04:00.004+10:00

I keep hearing people saying "Afghanistan is like Vietnam". So I'm thinking... if that is the case, then where is this 'Vietnam' and should we attack it?

...signs of life

2010-06-08T09:18:00.008+10:00

Long time - no posty.

Blogging really is a phasey thing for me ie, I completely lack the commitment to see anything through…except a large Prawno from my local pizza place… and the director's cut of Lord of the Rings-Return of the King. I'm the kind of bloke who gets a diary/planner for Christmas and writes "Start using diary" in the January 1 box, which turns out to be the last time I ever see my diary.

Oh and there's my commitment to Q and this little munchkin, who has come along to upset my habit of indulging myself in utterly selfish pursuits and generally ruin my delusions of a robust bachelorhood, now lost…in the most wonderful way!

I questioned whether to post this picture without Phoebe Seraphina Richards' consent. I tried to explain to her the moral implications associated with the rise of social networking sites and modern privacy issues, but she just grinned and pooed her pants. And anyway it's on Facebook, so according to reports she is already being stalked by thousands of weirdos and about to have her brain scanned by Google for marketing purposes. Meh. What are you gonna do?

So that's a good excuse for not doing my homework; I've been busy making people. It sure beats "the dog from Pixar ate my post". In fact, she's the best excuse I'll ever have for anything.

... i have landed

2010-05-17T19:28:00.001+10:00

...keep diggin' that hole Mr. Abbott

2010-02-19T14:15:00.006+11:00

He's at it again.

Tony Abbott, stop talking about sex! In particular, stop talking about YOU having sex, with your wife and/or ex-girlfriends/goats. There are people trying to eat out there.

As it is with parents, politicians and sex should not considered in the same thought (unless of course you are Italian). Most pollies have a head like a baboon's arse and the sex appeal of a proboscis monkey in lingerie...I don't want to have any inkling of the fact that you may have a) had intercourse and b) been naked or c) worn budgie smugglers. I know a sexually repressed Catholic upbringing is enough to make any bloke obsessed with the topic of sex, but enough already!

And Tony, I already know your thoughts on young women having sex before marraige, which you tend to put in a very special category, describing a woman's virginity as "the ultimate gift". Well Tony, you may regard the taking of a young lady's virginity as the "ultimate", but I've known a few women in my time and I can tell you, the "ultimate gift" a woman ever gave me was a Black and Decker Workmate.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in my shed.

*Apologies to all baboons and Proboscis Monkeys

...interesting times

2010-02-18T15:12:00.001+11:00

So I've...

-Wormed and flea'd the cat
-Got briefly addicted to Second Life before my first life got interminably busy
-Survived Christmas, 5 large meals over three bloody days (those Christians are gonna pay!)
-Came a few facial ticks away from quitting my job
-Took Mingus Von Stinkbum to the cattery
-Went camping at The Prom with 7 friends and 5 family members (Dances with Wombats)

-Survived camping at The Prom with 7 friends and 5 family members
-Helped my brother-in-law move house
-Cancelled the internet
-Helped sell Q's car
-Bought Q's new SH car
-Sold a couch
-Bought a couch
-Took my fish to the orphanarium
-Sold my aquariums
-Setup a cot and change table. Damn those infernal Chinese instruction writers

-Helped my friend Pierre move house. He's French. He doesn't like cheese. He's interesting
-Settled on the house (don't bother with mortgage brokers. They are just another layer of complication)
-Started 'Having a Baby 101' lessons (or 'What Not To Do When You're Partner is in Labour 101')
-Moved house. Ouch. But I got to drive a truck! Echo-Charlie-Rubber Ducky!
-Painted 90% the interior of a 3-bedroom house in 6 days (the psychological scars will last a lifetime)
-Weaned my Mum off Telstra
-Hooked up new phone and internet (hooray for iinet, but no ADSL2 :( this country is a friggin' telecommunications backwater I tell ya)
-bought a dining room table
-Wondered if I'll ever blog again
-Received a new work car. Faith in job temporarily restored.
-Moved Stinkbum to new premises
-Moved the cat
-Caught Gastro off my sister's kids, albeit mildly
-Watched Q turn inside from a severe bout of Gastro, ending in a precautionary visit to hospital
(Speaking of Gastro, I once asked a girl out on a date but she told me no, she was in bed with Gastro. I gave up on her straight away. I mean, how could I compete with the leader of Cuba)

-Painted 10% the interior of a 3-bedroom house
-Bought a lawnmower and hedge trimmer. Whats happening to me!!!
-Watched a birth video at What Not To Do When You're Partner is in Labour-101. No wonder they get the Dad to stand behind the mother
-Marvelled at my new work commute. From 34 traffic lights to just 1
-Wondered by so many bots/trawlers/spammers and enigmatic anoymous commenters are leaving comments on my little blog.
-RECONNECTED TO THE INTERNET AT HOME!

Oh, and that was all before lunchtime! I think I need a lie down.

mr kipling! where for art thou?

2010-01-07T23:44:00.000+11:00

Hmmm. A change a blogdentity to herald the new decade? The Grumpy Old Man at the Pub perhaps?

You see my Grandmother was a religious lass until she was about 70 and saw the light. The eighth child of a Methodist Minister and his tormented wife, she played organ at the Bright Uniting Church on Sundays while I played in the yellow autumn leaves out the back. My Mum and Dad weren't the religious type, but Nanna could be a real pain in the arse, so I was sent to Sunday School. My other Grandparents (the cool ones from Sydney) gave me large, hauntingly illustrated books on the evolution of Homo sapiens from an early age, and I was soon asked to leave Sunday School because I kept asking "when do the monkeys come into it?". So I was sent to Boys Club *shudder*.

Boys Club *shudder* was run by the Uniting Church and consisted of a dozen or so boys, hair parted in an appropriate fashion, wearing white runners with white knee-high socks, white footy shorts and a snug white tshirt with a little Uniting Church logo printed on it. We said the Lord's Prayer and then pranced around in circles and jumped on mini-trampolines and over vaulting horses and did dive rolls and star jumps then we went home to read books on evolution. Mum would pick me up and say "How was Boy's Club?" and I couldn't answer because I still didn't actually know what Boy's Club *shudder* was. That lasted a few more weeks and then they sent me to Cubs.

Cubs was better than Boy's Club, but still a bit weird. All that flag raising, anthem singing and chanting, uniform wearing, saluting, dib-dib-dibbing and dob-dob-dobbing, six-foot lesbians from the suburbs suspiciously named 'Akela' when all the other women were named Jenny or Pat, woggles, knots and mottos - so many formalities and protocols for a little boy to remember! By the time you got organised with your ironed uniform, correctly folded scarf and thoughtfully placed woggle, 'Be Prepared' belt, hat, socks and polished boots, memorised chants and salutes, newly acquired shirt patches, knot book and other instructional pamphlets, pocket knife (it was the 80's), hanky, spare hanky and 20 cents for a phone call, you'd have missed Cubs and it was time for bed. But we did get to run around in the bush a bit, and played some fun games so if I had to ask God to save the Queen every week (as if she were about to be hit by a bus or something) I guess it was worth it. And I still know how to tie a reef knot.

But while I fart in the general direction of tradition and formality, I think things have swung too far the other way. I saw a report on the modern scouting movement the other day and it showed the ins and outs of a modern scout camp. Gone are the uniforms and gender segregation. But the camp had an internet tent! Kids were lining up to sit slumped in front of a computer surfing the net and checking bloody emails, like they probably do every other day! Where have the bush survival skills gone? What is going on? The erroneously titled 'Camp Leader' said "We pretty much let the kids decide what they do these days". So in a few years I assume they'll have the Bong and PS3 tent right across from the Maccas tent. Maybe they can hold the camp at Chadstone Shopping Centre at the back of Toys'R'Us.

sup bro got mah bronze badge in mad skillz, going 4 silver badge in drunken knife fightin next week. next year mayb doin camp at big TV and KFC gonna b sweeeet! mmyah crazeee mofos

Marge Simpson: Grandpa! Are you sitting on a warm apple pie?

Grandpa Simpson: I sure hope so.

...pathetic post (too little, too late)

2009-12-23T11:51:00.002+11:00

Sorry about that. I just popped off to the Bahamas for a while. Fought to the death with my nemesis who had nearly destroyed the world with a superweapon buried in his secret base under the floor of the Carribbean Ocean, snogging bikini clad women and drinking martinis from a Camelbak along the way....you know, just the usual interstate man of mystery stuff.

On a more serious note, my friend who is a painter was mucking around with some of his apprentices last week and trying to fix a car when they spilled petrol on themselves. Later on they were driving, one of the passengers lit a cigarette and my mate's arm caught fire. So he wound down the window and stuck his arm out, just as a police van was driving the other way. He quickly pulled his arm in but the cops chucked a uey and pulled them over. Guess what he was charged with? Concealed firearm.

Re: babies and houses. All is very well. The bubba (Phoebe is in the lead of the namestakes. Phoebe the Foetus. I like that) and we settle on the 29th Jan after a relaxing week at the Prom.

Have a good Exmass and all that. One of my New Years Resolutions is to become a more devoted blogger next year, so I'll at least post something in early January.

Toodles

...hecup

2009-11-26T21:58:00.002+11:00

I have a Hecup.

Not an involunatary throatal spasm, but a teacup for blokes. It's very large and it has red poppies on it. It was a present.

It's an oddish gift, a hecup. Strangely masculine or at least, hermaphroditic...no, what's the opposite...asexual? Homocycle? Whatever.

It's big and it's nice. Perhaps I should start drinking tea?

.

...it's a girl!

2009-11-20T12:12:00.002+11:00

After deciding we would keep it a surprise, we changed our minds at this morning's 19 week ultrasound. Q was sure it would be a boy, but I'd been informed by my big sister that every mother thinks it will be a boy as they are preparing for the worst because they secretly all want a girl. And statistically, it 'should' be a boy because most of our parent friends already have girls.

So namewise Q likes...

Vivien (or Vyvienne or something, but no-can-do. The kid is going to be a Richards, and I can't bring myself to naming my first-born daughter after a famous, 7ft, West Indian fast bowler. Q doesn't care but my mates will never let me forget it)
Alba. Mother-in-law suggestion (*shudders)
Violet (I quite like this one)
Daisy (why do flowers make nice names?)
Emmaline (nice too)
Clementine (ok)

I like...

Lorna (old-school but awesome. Strong, but lyrical. And yes Ms. Lino, I can say it is in your honour if you like).
Phoebe (but Q had a beloved childhood dog of the same name, but that shouldn't matter...right? Apparently it does)
I like spacey names, like Astrid and Celeste too

More suggestions please. I can't guarantee we'll like any of them, but the more choice the better.

.

...tori amos

2009-11-16T14:54:00.000+11:00

Last Saturday I went to Luna Park for my nephew's 8th Birthday Party. As I was waiting in line for my 3rd 'terrifying' ride on the Ghost Train, I realised that the flame-haired woman standing in line next to me was none other than Tori Amos. What a spinout! Q went to see her perform at the Regent Theatre the previous night and gave me a rave review, so I couldn't help myself and told Ms Amos of Q's positive feedback. "Why thankyou! That is lovely. Could you thank her for me?" she replied in her mid-western accent.

A bit later Q showed up and I told her Tori was about, but she said she didn't want to annoy her and wanted to let her have a nice private day out with her kids and partner. But a little later as Q was walking into the Ladies, Tori was coming out, having changed for Saturday night's gig in the toilets. Q couldn't help herself and told Tori how much she enjoyed the show and thanked her for coming to Melbourne. "Why, aren't you a sweetheart!" Tori replied.

It was the cherry on top of a great weekend for Q. It's not often you get called a sweetheart by one of your favourite artists.

.

...a public hazard

2009-11-13T15:44:00.002+11:00

I was riding my bike down Grattan St. Prahran a few years ago when I saw a couple, completely naked, having sex in the park in broad daylight.

So I did what most guys would do and rode straight into the back of a parked car. They stopped and looked up at me. And I was embarrassed.

Get a room people. What you're doing is dangerous!

Happy Friday!

.

...boom shanka!

2009-11-12T10:39:00.004+11:00

A pregnant belly is a magical thing, almost mystical.

I'm so happy to have one, well not attached to me, mine is made of beer, but a real one with our baby inside. One I can touch whenever I want. So round and smooth. So lovely.

Q likes it too. I never thought I'd hear her say "I like having a big belly" but there you go. Demonstrates the power of boom shanka(!); it makes happy drugs for the creators.

Almost halfway through and all is well.

.

...scientology

2009-11-10T12:46:00.002+11:00

I don't understand the media's obsession with bagging Scientology. Sure they are a bunch of rich nutters, but so are the Liberal Party.

They say that it's because Scientologists believe in UFO's and alien races and stuff. So what? I'll defy anyone who says that this is absurd, but somehow immaculate conception, burning bushes and boats with every animal species aboard are perfectly acceptable occurences. To me, all religions are equally mired in the fantastical. Scientology deserves no special attention.

So scientologists don't believe in the healing potential of psychiatry. Nor do the world's other orthodox religions. They'd say make an appointment with your local priest, not Dr. Freud. Scientologists are being criticised in the news today for being "Anti-gay". Hello, Catholic Church/Islam/Orthodox Judaism/Hinduism.

I don't care if your prophet gets around on a donkey, magic carpet or flying saucer. I don't care if you worship at your local Scientology Research Faciltiy, the Craigieburn Mosque or St. Loony up the Cream Bun and Jam. Just becasue your fantasies are 2000 years old and have billions of followers does not make them any more relevant to life in the 21st century.

.

...i hope the afterlife isn't run by fish

2009-11-06T19:02:00.001+11:00

Elvis has left the building.

Elvis passed away sometime today, after a severe bout of constipation. It's official. I'm a serial killer of Siamese Fighting Fish (Betta splendens).

E was a feisty young male who when we found him he was busy fighting his way out of a paper cup. Now he's just pushin' up the daisies (actually stinking out the wheelie bin). He had been quite bloated, you know, a bit like after you have 6 Coopers Reds and a Rogan Josh. I tried to feed him a green pea the other night, because I read on the net last night that it can cure constipation, and it must be true because its on the net, but he would'nt take a bite. I also read that Bloodworms are bad for Bettas, and he stuffed his face with them a week ago. My bad. I am not worthy.

I blame Q. Elvis was her fish after all. She wanted to buy a fish so one day I took her to the aquarium to buy a fish.

Ooh I like this one
You can't get it. It's a saltwater marine fish.
What about this one?
That one will attack the others.
This one?
That one will get attacked by the others.
I want to get that one.
You can't. It'll eat the plants in the tank.
What about this one?
It needs to be in a big group.
Hmm?
No. It's ugly.
So which fish can I have?
Have a look at these ones.
This one is cute.
It's too expensive. I'm not paying $35 for a fish... unless it's fresh salt and pepper flounder shortly after Happy Hour.
OK. This one.
No. It's Blue. The last one we had, the one that just died was blue.
So, you bastard, are you telling me there is only one fish left in the store that I can buy?
Yes, that is correct.

Good choice. Well done.

I've never lived it down.

.

...camping with freud

2009-11-04T14:33:00.009+11:00

Two nights ago I dreamt I had to skin a whole calf. Only problem is that I soon realised it was still alive, though it had been heavily sedated. Yet I ended the beast's wretched life as I slit open its warm belly with sharpened steel, a torrent of shit and innards smothering my boots.

I didn't want to do it, but I kind of had to. I had to do it to prove to myself that, as an eater of flesh, I would be prepared to slaughter my own animals. I was also doing it to impress a girl. I finished the awful job, but did she have to drug it, allowing it to be skinned alive? Both anger and obsession enveloped me...

I awoke to an immense ball of rolling, stereophonic thunder that amplified as it slowly tore its way around the tall sandstone walls of the great Victoria Valley in the central Grampians National Park, shaking the very ground on which I lay (What the fuck is that roaring monster that has my heart racing! Wow, It's bloody thunder. That's right, I'm in a tent in the Gramps. It's cold, but I'm sweating. My back hurts). And its raining now. I'm reassured by my pregnant wife, who shows no real sign of alarm. The thunder returns. We make contact, but we are united in our discomfort, the cold, uneven ground preventing any meaningul rest.

Dreams. Strange dreams. More an absurdist fable than nightmare. My own heart of darkness mingles with primordial urges, bubbling up to float just below the surface of slumber. It leaves me feeling beastly, grisly, shameful yet triumphant, angry and scared, wallowing in the pits of the darkest jungles of the male mind. Yes, a male dream. A dream influenced by discomfort and the unsettled weather caressing my subconscious. That and the fact I had earlier in the evening cut the fat off a leg of lamb, destined for the camp oven, with my new, extremely sharp knife, the thick layer of white grease peeling off flesh like sticky wax. It is my very first knife, or at least my first outdoorsy knife. A man-knife.

So, man-knife gives me freako dreams? That, and pack an extra sleeping mat next time? Eat less meat? Eat more meat? Kill more? Kill less? I fear a future devoid of personal compassion? A future shirking my manly, perhaps fatherly responsibility? Should I achieve my personal beast, or my pesonal beast? Does propagating the species give one a heightened sense of life, death and the mammalian condition?

Fascinating stuff to ponder, but not something to which I can find a definitive answer. It's probably best that way. Despite how clever we think we are, dreams will always be one of life's little mysteries. Probably best for me to take another slice out of the book of Bob Dylan...

"Some time ago a crazy dream came to me,
I dreamt I was walkin' into World War Three.
Went to the doctor the very next day
To see what kind of words he could say
He said it was a bad dream.
I wouldn't worry 'bout it none though
They're only dreams and theyre only in your head."

Talkin' Work War III Blues
Bob Dylan, 1963

...suburban and coke

2009-10-27T21:47:00.004+11:00

I never realised buying a house is such a protracted affair. Oh my God!

Why can't it be simple? Why can't you just walk into The House Shop and say "I'll have 42 tonnes of house please! Do you deliver to affordable suburbs?" And why are there so many people involved that look like either a gameshow host, an apprentice game show host or an extra from Prisoner.

It's oddly like shopping around for another life at the moment, or at least shopping for the scenery we'll be looking at for the next 5+ years, what we're spending big bucks on, what we're going to be constantly fixing.

"Should we go the ready-made, modern, urbane life, or perhaps an old, rambling, big block, outdoorsy future? Hmmm. I guess it depends on what's on special, and if they'll throw in a free lemon tree".

But it's sort of exciting at the same time. Finding a nest, a home, a hub for a new family. Though I reckon the birds have got it figured out; find a tree and stuff you mouth full of twigs and grass. Simple! At least they don't have to spend every Saturday hangin' out with Larry Emdur and Pat the Rat.

Update: The Bub has ten fingers and ten toes (total). It has a normal heartbeat, and it freaked Daddy out for the first time by suddenly rolling over when I was looking at him/her during an ultrasound. Tonight we put in an offer on a 3bdr weatherboard on a nice big block with definately enough room for a toddler to swing a cat in. Sorry Moochy.

.

...facebook and the holocaust

2009-10-23T13:47:00.003+11:00

I've been deliberately steering clear of controversy in this new blog incarnation. There's far too much of it out there anyway, and its overrated. But it's Friday afternoon and I am not in my usual devil-may-care frame of mind for this time of the week. I blame my colleagues.

Firstly, with hindsight I realise that posting the news of my impending fatherhood on Facebook was not a good idea. While we had recently told the 'inner circle', it seems there are many long lost friends and Aunties who are offended that they were not at the top of the notification list. My defence, "Well they're going to find out anyway, and probably not by us because news like this travels fast and it was only a matter of time before someone else mentioned it. And think of all the money we've saved on phone calls. People are now calling us saying WTF?."

The defence is weak, and I have one paw in the doghouse. I blame technology.

Also, on a vastly unrelated note, why do we give Holocaust deniers so much publicity? If someone doesn't believe in the Holocaust they should be allowed to. If someone wants to believe that WW2 never happened, why stop them? If you want to believe in Santa Claus, be my guest. Obsessing and protesting over Holocaust denial is just giving the deniers the publicity they need to sell their books. Just ignore them, and they will disappear.

Happy Bloody Friday!
.

...doolittle

2009-10-21T11:02:00.000+11:00

The fact that its been 20 years since Pixies released their seminal album Doolittle makes me feel a tad old. Not that I was listening to Pixies in 1989, I discovered them a few years later.

I think they are well described as 'musician's musicians, achieving success through their enormous influence rather than mainstream popularity. As a teenager learning guitar, they absolutely stunned in their ability to demonstrate what is possible. Double octave bends, harmonic distortion, fantastically oddball beats, Black Francis' cockatoo-like vocals mollified by Kim's sexysweet vocals, all with a zesty latino hint, all in kooky 2-3 minute parcels of audio bliss. They are my favourite surfer/latino/surrealist/punk/space/pop band. An acquired taste but to this day, I can't ask for more.

I just got tickets to their Melbourne gig next March, and I just heard they are releasing a studio album after 19 years. Woohoot!

Here's a clip from their follow up album Bossanova. Aren't they cute! All fresh faced and optimistic. Nowadays they look overweight and bit hagged... a lot like me. The sound on the following vid is a bit awful. This is in fact the only 'official' filmclip the Pixies ever made, a 20 second clip of the band running through a quarry slowed down. It was always about the music.

hold my head
we'll trampoline
finally through the roof
on to somewhere near
and far in time
velouria

...com-pu-pu-pu-pu-etc

2009-10-16T10:43:00.003+11:00

"Video games don't kill people, they just kill their minds"
Bart Simpson

I've been playing computer games since my Dad brought home a precursor to modern consoles back in 1981. It was state of the art, and had 4 awesome games in it, controlled by a large red dial/knob thingamy...

Tennis...

Squash...

Wall tennis...

and Soccer...

It was just like the real thing, only less fun. The future looked bright.

I spend most of 1984 seeing this...

I clocked this baby dozens of times.

And soon I was playing this at my friend's houses. We couldn't afford a NES of our own. That or my Mum was a complete tight-arse killjoy.

But despite being born at the right time to soak in computer games from an early age, I was never a fat couch potato kid, ne'er were my peers (I am now though, despite having a Wii). I still spent a considerable amount of time outdoors on my yellow BMX, popping monos and wheelies (but never bunnyhops coz bunnyhops are gay).

And over the years I have destroyed hundreds of Capital Spacecraft and thousands of starfighters. I've shot down dozens of B-52 Flying Fortresses and downed countless AM6 Zeros. I've sunk submarines off Guadalcanal and divebombed Japanese airfields in the Marianas under heavy AA fire.

I've blasted ten thousand aliens (all of them nasty) and dismembered zombies with a chainsaw. I've killed terrorists with shotguns in dawn raids, and I've ran over dozens of pedestrians (accidentally).

I've done such things as ripped people's heads off with the spinal cord still attached, I've knifed people in the guts and sprayed their blood all over the room . Well I had to, or else they would have killed me!

And aside from the blogging, I've turned out perfectly normal. By that I mean I haven't actually killed anyone for real. I've never even hit someone, aside from my big sister but she deserved it because she kicked me square in the balls because she "just wanted to see what would happen". I'm even a bit of a vegetarian. I eat fish.... and duck. Well a duck is basically a fish isn't it because it spends most of its life on water. So I eat any animal that lives on or near a water body. I even give money to MSF to stitch up the poor people wounded in war zones.

So why do some people insist that computer games are the root of violence and obesity in our society? Stupidity is the root of violence and obesity in our society, and stupidity is born of low education and a lack of moral guidance. Despite what some people believe, I can tell the difference between an armless green-toothed zombie on a TV screen and a fellow pedestrian as I walk to the shops, aned therefore not have the urge to shoot them. Anyone who can't hopefully received urgent medical attention at a young age.

In the 1960's a guy in the USA went to see Disneys Snow White at the cinema. After that he came home and stabbed his mother 100 times because he belived her to be the wicked witch. Perhaps she was, but my point is that based on the anti-games people argument, we should ban that film because it incited violence. Lets not blame a sick mind, it's far easier to blame the movie/computer game/heavymetal song lyrics.

If computer games did affect the kids so profoundly, then my generation, who played a lot of Pacman, would spend much of their time in darkened rooms, popping pills and listening to repetitive music.

Heaven forbid!

.

...fye-orrrr!

2009-10-13T10:15:00.001+11:00

Oh yeah, blogging.

Because I'm an gi-normous dag, and like Leela from Futurama once said, "My life isn't as glamorous as my webpage makes it look", I can cheerfully admit to be thoroughly enjoying the complete series of Hornblower DVDs I borrowed off my mother-in-law.

Bally, big, boy's own adventures, smashing those damned Froggies, Wops and Dagos and blowing over Boney whilst running around with pistols down your trousers yelling "A-hoy!" "Aye Sir" and my favourite "FIRE!" (pronounced FYE-ORR!).

Ball tearingly enjoyable stuff. Scupper me skull and crossbones and Roger the cabin boy. Hip-Hip, Hoorah! Double rum ration for every man (sorry ladies, but only loose women drink). Anyone who disagrees, the penalty for insubordination is DEEAAATH!

Horatio Hornblower fye-orring a canon.

...beep

2009-10-09T22:36:00.001+11:00

'Beep!'

Sure new cars are nice to drive in many respects,and I like the fact that I've been giving a new flasho work vehicle. It makes a nice change from the old ute with the grass growing in the back. But it goes 'beep' way too much for my liking.

Turn the car on.

'Beep Beep Beep (put your belt on)'
"Yeah, yeah gimme a bloody second. Geez. So impatient."

'Beep (you are now in reverse)'
"That's because I put the car in reverse. You have an extraordinary grasp of the obvious."

'Beep Beep Beep (there is something behind you)'
"Yes I am reversing toward the fence that I CAN SEE because I have my OWN EYES and I don't need a stupid beep to tell me."

'Beep Beep Beep (the something is getting closer)'
"That's coz I'm deliberately driving towards it."

'BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! (Danger! There is a large clump of soft green grass behind you now!)'
It's freakin' grass! And you're a freakin' 4WD you stupid yet luxurious piece of patronising crap!

Gah!

Take me back to a simpler time. A time when cars just chewed up your David Bowie mixed tape and didn't constantly bug you out by going 'Beep' in your ear.

...the blogger of doom

2009-10-05T09:49:00.012+11:00

Well the planet certainly is having a big of a yawn and stretch at the moment. Major earthquakes in Indonesia, a tsunami Polynesia, floods in India, a typhoon in the Philippines. It's almost as if the earth is trying to shrug of the itchy parasite that is the human race.

I've been to Padang, and stayed in that big hotel that is now just rubble. In fact many of the places I've visited at in Indonesia have suffered complete devastation after I left.

Padang, West Sumatra, September 2009 - Major earthquake. Major landslides around nearby crater lakes. >1,500 dead.

Sibolga, North Sumatra, December 2004 - Boxing day tsunami destroys the town. ~240,000 killed

Bukit Lawang, North Sumatra, November 2003 - Flash flood destroys village. 239 dead.

Cianjur, West Java, September 2009 - Earthquake and landslides. 86 dead.

Pangandaran, West Java, July 2006 - 7.7 magnitude earthquake and tsunami destroys fishing village. 668 killed.

Kuta, Bali, October 2002 and 2005 - Dual terrorist bombings kill 225.

Yogyakarta, Central Java, May 2006 - 6.3 magnitude earthquake, 5,782 dead.

Medan, North Sumatra, September 2005 - Mandala Airlines 737 crashes in the city enroute to Jakarta, killing 144 people. I caught the same flight a few years earlier.

Spooky. Don't invite me around to your place for dinner. If I am some sort of a cosmic lightning rod, I'd stay away from Lombok, the Gili Islands, southern British Columbia and San Francisco for a few years, though I think the real moral of the story is that Indonesia is a dicey place to live at the best of times. Poor buggers.

.

...tings to do

2009-10-03T07:51:00.002+10:00

My to-do list for the next 6 months...

buy car
buy house
become a dad

Crikey! Life just got rather interesting.

I wish I could just skip forward and have it all done, out of the way. The suspense is killing me, and we've only just started. But instead I'm about to drive to some 'affordable' suburb to inspect some 'affordable' crap house in the 'affordable' price range $400,000 - $500,000.

We'll be right. Compared to many, we're quite fortunate to even be in that position. But I wish we could just spin around the loungeroom to this, and have it magically happen without even having to think about it.

...mastercrap and the lost world

2009-10-01T10:25:00.000+10:00

I love cooking. I love food. I hate Masterchef.

More generally, I hate 'reality' TV.

I hate the hype. I hate the voiceovers for the ads who talk in that engineered, breathy, phone sex voice. I hate the long pauses. I hate the drum rolls. I hate the faux seriousness they present it all with. I find it condescending. It hurts my brain.

Specific to Masterchef, I hate how they call the Premier of Queensland a 'celebrity'. I hate the fat bastards who lord it over the contestants. I hate the fact that I'm not getting paid a ton of money to eat yummy food and be a fat bastard. I hate that they don't have a women judge. I hate the looong pauses and that spooky music as the judges taste a dish, as if the future of the human race depends on the piquancy of Dave's Thai Pumpkin Soup.

But what I am enjoying is the BBC's Yellowstone in HD. Wow, that place is the freaking Lost World. It never ceases to amaze me how the U.S. has a poulation of 250 million, yet it still has vast tracts of unspoiled wilderness and a significant proportion of the world's megafauna, though like Australia, I guess it has to do with habitability. Yellowstone is a volcanic crater around 2000m elevation, and it gets down to -35 C in winter... not ideal for farming, but Utopia for horny Bison.

.

...a bit o' biffo

2009-09-29T09:55:00.002+10:00

T'was a time when there was honour in biffo.

Nowadays all honour has gone and in it's place is something insidious. In the 21st century when a man is knocked down it is merely the beginning, and the kicking of heads, stomping of ribs, glassing etc ensues. Gentlemanly restraint has died and in it's place is an unfeeling, unfettered bloodlust. Shame on us men! How did we allow ourselves to sink so low?

Put a thousand young men in a room together, add alcohol and history shows us that before the night is out, blood will be spilled. There is nothing new about that. But the fighting of yonder had a code of conduct. The taboos of fighting were important because they helped prevent serious injury and death, and the odd murder charge.

A bloke had to accept a challenge before fighting even began.
If he refused, the challenger won the (moral) victory.
If he accepted, then an area free of obstacles was found.
Weapons were strictly forbidden.
Kicking, kneeing, headbutting, punching below the belt and biting were not allowed.
The combatants didn't need to be told this, it was just the way things were done.
Once a man fell or conceded defeat, he would not be touched again.

To break any one of these taboos was considered 'dirty fighting' and quite despicable. A man was stripped of his honour, shamed and embarrassed in front of his peers. Today, fighting dirty is the norm, thus the brain injuries and deaths we see all too often. Of course not every fight in sepia tone was so 'civilised' (perhaps I'm romanticising all this a tad) and even with such taboos in place, people did suffer serious injuries... even the odd death, but the general incidence of such tragic outcomes was far less than it is today (citation needed - in fact I've really got no idea. I've never seen any stats or anything to back up my claims. I may be completely delusional. But hey, I am a blogger).

I actually don't mind boxing. I'm not interested in watching it, but in an historic and cultural context, it is competition in it's purest and most ancient; a battle of strength, speed and endurance stripped back to it's barest form...a couple of burly blokes in shorts thumping each other, the last man standing the winner. But despite it's primal nature, respecting the rules of the game is as important as having good technique. Perhaps the demise of boxing as socially acceptable recreation has removed the moral guidance and concept of rules in fighting that saved a lot of skulls in the past. Just a theory.

I'm not advocating that young blokes line up to clobber each other in the ring or otherwise, but it's seems some guys will have an urge to fight regardless, and it's probably safer in a controlled environment than doing so at the top of a flight of stairs at 4am after 12 bourbons, 4 Red Bulls, 2 ecstasy pills and 6 hours of sexual frustration with a piece of glass in your hands.

And we should also bring back flogging.... every Friday night 'round at my place ;o)

.

...screamin' jay hawkins

2009-09-25T11:40:00.000+10:00

Anyone who hasn't seen Screamin' Jay Hawkins peform, I urge you to watch this video (or at least the last minute of it). The man is quite the... unique individual.

There's more info here about this interesting artist.

Have a great weekend y'all, and don't forget to eat some prunes.

.

...avalon airport

2009-09-24T09:23:00.003+10:00

Being an interstate man of mystery, I recently used Melbourne's only other airport capable of accommodating something larger than a Fokker Friendship, Avalon Airport.

You know your airport is on the quaint side when you drive straight past the gate before chucking a uey to investigate if that wooden railing fence you just passed is an airport or a horse stud. And you know it's a tad no-frills as you drive up the dirt track lined with large, painted boulders that tell you in a not too subtle fashion that driving off the track for a split second would be a very expensive exercise.

I like quaint airports. I once bought a plane ticket off a kid on a BMX. I waited under a huge mango tree as I watched the tiny craft buzz over the landing strip at 10,000ft. I was cheerfully assured it would stop to pick me up on it's way back, like I was waiting for a bus or something and the driver just forgot to see me. An hour or so later, I again saw the tiny white speck zooming through the clouds... then out across the azure South Pacific and over the horizon. When I eventually tracked down the kid for a refund at a nearby village, he apologised, saying that the pilot couldn't pick me up because someone forgot to mow the grass on the landing strip. (After an unsuccessful attempt to flag down an ADF helicopter to take me to my impending connecting flight on a faraway island, I ended up having quite an adventure involving a steely-faced ex-guerilla from the Bougainville Revolutionary Army, a tropical thunderstorm, two large outboard motors and a very sore arse*. Contrary to all my predictions at the time, I made it home alive.)

But despite the distinct lack of large mango trees, Avalon Airport has all the wonderful things you would expect from any of the world's great airports; overpriced and awful food, rude security staff, 48hrs 'discount' parking for $50, what's not to love? It even has several bronze sculptures out the front of oversized young 1940's type schoolboys playing with rockets and toy planes. They are actually kind of cute, but smack of some rich old bastard trucking magnate's fantasy, "When I gwow up, I'm gonna have an airwoport!"

Avalon Airport. 3.5 packets of beer nuts.

*the sore arse relates to the lack of conventional seating in the small, fast boat, coupled with the lolling swell of the South Pacific... not the price of the ticket.

.

...buried treasure

2009-09-22T12:12:00.000+10:00

I heard a song on a promo for a 1980's themed cop show currently running on the ABC.

I hadn't heard it for a long time, but it's been lurking in the dark recessess of my memory ever since pushing over thousands of dominos was an international obsession and Prime Ministers were voted in on the strength of their public drunkeness.

Now I can't get it out of my head, so I thought I'd try to afflict you with it as well. It could be worse. It could be Phil Collins.

.

...pompeii shmompeii

2009-09-21T09:51:00.001+10:00

So a volcano erupted and wiped out an ancient city in 79 AD.

Boring.

I'm not going to spend $20 at the Melbourne Museum to see a bunch of broken pots. How much can we really learn from plaster casts of corpses and reenactments of people in togas being smothered by rivers of molten rock. It burns OK!

Far more interesting is the much less 'celebrated' 1997 eruption of the Soufrière Hills Volcano and consequent destruction of the city of Plymouth on the Carribean Isle of Monserrat. Same shit as Pompeii, but only 12 years ago, so none of the romance I guess.

The remains of Plymouth - 1997

As with the town of Rabaul on the island of New Britain in Papua New Guinea, 1994. Same deal, only Papuans died instead of sexy, swinging Italians, so no interest there either.

The edge of the Rabaul Caldera - 1994

The most amazing in my opinion is that of the eruption of Mt. Pelee on the island of Martinique in 1902. The eruption killed the entire population (30,000 people) of the capital city of St. Pierre. There were just two survivors - Louis August Cyparis, an Afro-Caribbean man who only survived from being locked in a poorly ventilated dungeon at the time of the eruption, and another bloke hiding on the outskirts of town. Louis went on to become an international celebrity and did all the talk shows etc.

St. Pierre after the 1902 eruption of Mt. Pelee

Sure we all like a bit of disaster porn, but if we want to actually learn something about catastrophic volcanic eruptions, we'd best fix our gaze on more recent events. We may even be compelled to help some of the victims still suffering in the aftermath of such events.

I'm Derryn Hinch.

.

...a booby is a seabird

2009-09-18T09:18:00.002+10:00

So I'm gonna be a father, like my father was, and his father before him. Must be hereditary.

It's nine weeks since cells started dividing and we haven't told everyone yet, just close family and friends, so this is just between you and me, internet.

I saw a TV show about babies once. They're easy right? Just put food in one end and keep the other end clean, right? And for the first year it'll get free food from boobies, so despite the baby's sardine breath it won't cost anything... right?

We suspect it will be a boy. Don't ask me why but Q has a sixth sense about these things. So I'll have to teach him (or her) how to be a man. Only problem is that I have to find out what that actually is first. My own Dad never bothered to tell me.

Luckily I have a book called "How to be a Man" by John Birmingham and Dirk Flinthart. It's full of useful tips for confused blokes such as what constitutes a decent suit, how to impress women by pretending you like cooking, how to show an interest in cars and how to give women orgasms (did you know they can have them too!).

The book is going to be a good dad. Any other tips are welcome. If anyone can tell me if it's cruel to call a kid Yoda McMuffin, and if you can sell them on Ebay to help get the bank off our back, I'd be ever so grateful.

Happy Friday!

.

...pub daddy

2009-09-17T10:38:00.000+10:00

Hehehe.

To hell with the world, I can make my own people now! *cue evil laughter

EDD: April 21 2010.

I'm three exclamation mark excited!!!

.

...sexucation

2009-09-16T09:02:00.001+10:00

From theage.com.au

The Crazy Horse cabaret theatre, near the Champs-Elysees and an institution since 1951, is bringing a topical flavour to its famous nude revue as part of new show by star choreographer Philippe Decoufle that launches next week.

Decoufle (...) has overhauled the traditional strobe-lit routines with numbers including a Wall Street-themed "Crisis? What Crisis?."

The number starts with statuesque dancer Fiamma Rosa, fully dressed in businesswoman attire, sitting at a desk against a backdrop of neon orange, relentlessly falling stock prices.

As she begins her strip routine, the stocks begin to rise. The prices start to turn around the more Rosa reveals, and by the end of the number they have risen some 90 percent.

Brilliant! What better way to get men and burlesque fans to ponder topical issues than by putting it in suspenders and attaching sparkly nipple tassles. But why stop at current affairs? Why not bring stories from history back to life by giving it a big, French spice injection.

How about the Fall of Rome as told by naughty talking bum cheeks, or an interpretation of Gallipoli done by two scantily clad women in a mudbath. The 12th century Great Schism of Western Christianity eloquently portrayed by Ms Lula, a chair and a horse whip has never been so interesting, and on a personal level, I'd dearly love to see the 1939 expansion of Imperial Japan into Eastern China told by the saucy Dame Vilaine as Emporer Hirohito and Evette Sensuale as the young Mao Zedong. Mmmm. Genocide has never been so sexy.

Just think of all the teenage boys that might actually pay attention in history class and the following lunchtime conversations in the locker bay...

"Geez, The Battle of the Somme was a shocking affair...but it sure had nice tits!"

...genius

2009-09-15T10:08:00.008+10:00

I had a great idea last night.

If the world is warming up because of our burning of fossil fuels, then why don't we have a world campaign where everyone leaves their fridge door open for a day, which will cool the planet by a few degrees, thus ensuring a rosy future for all humanity.

The Man at the Pub saves the world again! Why aren't I World President?

El Presidente del Publo! There'd never be wars, just hangovers.

.

...i think the word is "flummoxed"

2009-09-14T10:21:00.002+10:00

From theage.com.au

TENS of thousands of protesters carrying signs saying Obama = Socialism and Keep Government out of Health Care, descended on Washington to oppose government spending and the rising US budget deficit.

Demonstrators, wrapped in American flags, holding banners and wearing shirts condemning President Barack Obama and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, expressed disapproval of plans to overhaul the US health-care system and place a cap on carbon emissions, as well as of the bail-out of companies.

''This tax-and-spend government wants to limit our freedom and erode people's rights,'' said Leonard Starr, 65, from Richmond, Virginia. ''We're building a giant bureaucracy headed to fascism using untruthfulness and lies.''

Are you fucking kidding me? For the last eight years the US has spent 2-3 trillion (2-3,000,000,000,000) of your money on a stupid war in Iraq that isn't even over yet and has done little except to further destabilise the Middle East. And in that time the US trade deficit has doubled. Where were you then?

Now the government wants to spend a bit of the pie, not on guns and missiles to maim poor people on the other side of the planet, but on your fellow countrymen and women, to heal your sick and desperately needy. And this you oppose?

Conservatives have strange priorities. They are no different here in Straya, and when in opposition tend to confuse good public policy/services to the disadvantaged with communism. Well I have a question for all the conservatives tripping over each other in the quest to regain lost power; If social services should be left to the will of the freemarket, then why have government at all?

So let us all pray at the altar of the free market, for it shall be thy saviour of the great unwashed. People will no longer hunger or fall ill when the their care and wellbeing is left to the shareholders of Coles Group Ltd. and Macquarie Bank. All people will undoubtably have equal access to quality education regardless of their parent's income, if their education was the responsibility of the board of Telstra, and our elderly will be fine in the new chain of Woolworths Ltd. Retirement Homes. If we were clever, we could be a bit more like the USA, where an unbridled free market has clearly ended socialist-induced poverty and disadvantage.

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...el hombre en el pub

2009-09-11T14:31:00.002+10:00

I'm thinking of a bit of a virtual makeover. The Man at the Pub just sounds too plain these days. I'm even questioning my once borderline alcoholism. I haven't had a drinkypoo for over a week (though I have been ill).

So in order to make me sound more windswept and interesting, with an element of international appeal, I put my blog title into Babelfish to find a more exotic moniker, something suggestive of a more cultured, more laid-back lifestyle.

de man bij de bar (Dutch)

l'homme au pub (French)

der Mann am Pub (German)

το άτομο στο μπαρ (Greek)

l'uomo al pub (Italian)

o homem no pub (Portugese)

человек на pub (Russian)

el hombre en el pub (Spanish)

Ye olde blokke at ye Pubbe (Olde English)

Nah. It seems to me that "The Man at the Pub" is just one of those universal whitetrash phrases that looks crap in any language. VB anyone?

On a more random note, here's a video of a French woman dancing. I don't know why but I find it kind of hypnotic.

Happy Friday!

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...profanisaurus

2009-09-07T11:16:00.006+10:00

I have in front of me a copy of Roger's Profanisaurus, "A collection of expletives, obscenities and euphemisms" from the makers of the British schoolboy humour comic/mag Viz.

Set out like a dictionary, it is mostly concerned with copulation, ladies and men's naughty bits, homosexuality, alcohol, orifices and associated excreta...therefore it is utterly hilarious and completely brilliant. But I dare not share with you too much of it, as I fear posting this stuff online could have a van of blokes in black pyjamas raiding my house and putting me away for crimes against humanity in John Howard's secret prison for the culturally insane, and/or The Man at the Pub be banned on a Stephen Conroy Chinese-style internet control fantasy trip..... and/or you'll think I'm ~~a sicko~~ more of a sicko. But judge me not harshly, as inside every 34 year old Australian male beats the heart of a childish, spotty and very annoying schoolboy.

But I found some tamish ones to indulge you, and seeing as you're a bunch of intelligent adults I can tell you that...

...pace car n. Of paying a sit down visit. The slow, unaerodynamic leading turd that once out of the way, allows the fast, souped-up bastards behind it to put their foot down.

...pants 1. interj. Exclamation of dismay. 2. n. Rubbish; nonsense; arse. As in: "You're talking pants!".

...pant moustache n. The effect achieved when the map of tassie (qv) extends symmetrically beyond either side of the undercrackers; (kecks; underpants; trolleys) (qv). See also spiders legs.

...pink Darth Vader euph. Cock. From the Star Wars character with a bell end for a helmet.

...pocket frog n. A fart; botty burp, anal announcement.

...polish the lighthouse to masturbate in the bath (males only).

I may have to begin usage of number two (snigger, snigger) as I quite like it and if you disagree, well pants to you! Thats just a fraction of the P's but you can get the whole Profanisaurus here (though why would you?).

I'd better stop now while I still have a shred of kredibility and hopefully a reader left.

Uh-oh, too late...

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...trouble in paradise (or where has all the frangipani gone?)

2009-09-02T11:11:00.002+10:00

Just spent two nights near Nooooooooooosa with my second cousin inlaw's ex-parents inlaw's sister and husband, Trish and Jeff.

I haven't stopped at Noosa before. Tracts of kick arse bushland and gorgeous scenery broken up by large playgrounds for extremely rich old bogans. So that's how the other half holiday. I did like the green tree frogs though... and the seafood platter, and the flowers, and as I pushed through the Antartctic gale that swept the tarmac at Avalon Airport, the weather.

It was a nice but brief distraction, albeit under gloomy circumstances. Aunty June sure made waves up on the Sunshine Coast, the 2000 people at the memorial service being testament of that. Sports stars, olympic coaches, doctors and nearly every lesbian north of Byron Bay were there to pay their respects. Kevin Rudd even sent an extremely large floral arrangement, so I'd like to thank each and every one of the tax-payers of the land for that. I didn't really know Aunty June that well, but I've learned a lot about her life, which was adventurous and full, and devoted to the wellbeing of others. She would skip meals to see sick patients. She would not sleep until she had done all she could for the people in her care. And I heard some funny stories too, which I'd like to share.

Aunty June loved Christmas, and took tremendous pleasure in setting up a magnificent Christmas tree at her home every year. And one year she found the most beautiful 7 foot pine that would make the best Christmas tree ever. The only catch was it that it was in the front yard of the local police station. But June had a personality that tended to get her what she wanted. So she made her brother in law make a distraction while pulled over cut down the tree, tied it to the top of her white MG and zoomed off into the night.

But my favourite story was of June's cat, who died age 21. One year June had to come to Melbourne for a very important event, but the night before her cat was hit by a car and suffered terrible injuries. The vet advised euthanisia but June was having none of it, so the cat had all its badly broken bones and cracked skull wired up and stitched back together, like some sort of Frankencat. But June couldn't bear to leave her beloved cat to recover with strangers while she was away, so she heavily sedated it, put it in her handbag and took it on the plane as her carry-on baggage, hoping it would keep still and refusing to stow her handbag in the overhead locker. She didn't get busted either. Q remembers June arriving to stay with a groggy, half shaved cat stitched up like a baseball poking it's lumpy head out of her Aunty's handbag and presumably thinking though a cloud of blurry pussycat thoughts, 'Where the crap am I?' A great visual, and a great woman, I'm sure you'll agree.

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..all's quiet

2009-08-27T13:30:00.005+10:00

Nothing to see here folks. Just me and the tubleweeds.

When I vowed to post daily (excluding weekends and probably public holidays) I had a sneaking suspicion that it might become a bit of a chore.

It's like my brain has lost it's creative spark and I'm finding it difficult to blog about anything. I'm sure it'll pass though, and some day soon I'm due to have about 50 ideas at the Pub one evening and jot them all down on a serviette to keep this thing going for a few more months.

While I generally have a shortish attention span, does everyone else also have "bad blog weeks" from time to time?

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...kittinger

2009-08-26T13:56:00.000+10:00

In 1959 a bloke named Joseph Kittinger hopped in an air balloon and took off skyward. Nothing unusual there, except he took that balloon higher than any manned balloon had ever been before. He took it 31,300 m (102,800 ft) above sea level... that's 33.1km above the ground! Then, he did something only a human would do. He jumped out.

Four minutes and 36 seconds later he had fallen 26km, through −70 °C temperatures at up to 988km/h, before his parachute opened.

Kittinger takes the plunge in 1960

Humans are fascinating because we do some really crazy things, some of them in the name of one of our favourite favourite inventions called 'progess'. Kittinger jumped so they could make fighter pilots safer or something. He actually did the balloon thing three times. He also raced speedboats, flew 483 missions in Vietnam and was shot down and became a POW, so he probably makes a mean rice paper roll too.

Joseph William Kittinger II

b. 1928
Patriot and Complete Nutjob

...bro from unzud

2009-08-25T09:15:00.001+10:00

The other night at the Pub I was having a chat about redundant methods of financial transaction with a friendly Kiwi bloke, when he suddenly exclaimed "I hate chicks!"

It turned a few heads and got a few "Wha's" in his direction, before we realised that he really hated "cheques". Oh how we larfed and larfed.

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...the mating of the wersh

2009-08-24T10:11:00.003+10:00

Strange how I like the concept of theatre, I admire good acting and I like(d?) being on stage, but being in the audience of a theatrical production is generally not my cup of tea. The last time I was actually in the audience of big production was a fancy production of Oliver when I was 10. I was bored shitless. So when I agreed to attend a Bell Shakespeare gig several months ago, I did so on the condition that it wouldn't be a bunch of gay cowboys eating porridge. I like the artsy...I'm not so keen on the fartsy.

So on Saturday night I found myself in the audience of a lesbian interpretation on The Taming of the Shrew. Sure the kissing was good...

...actually, it wasn't that bad at all, once I'd developed an ear for the lingo. All female cast, great acting, the wit of The Bard, hot chicks kissing... what's not to like? It's given me a taste for more (Shakespeare, that is).

*I used to enjoy treading the boards back when the Pub was only serving Sunnyboys. I suspect I might still enjoy that type of thing.

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...they have the power!!!

2009-08-21T08:51:00.004+10:00

Did you read this?

That's right folks. Apparently the internet is "not a free for all".

Somebody had better tell the internet. And I'd better take down all my bizarre-creepy-stalker-hate-blogs.

Also, in step with several other media outlets, due to rising cost of quality blogging, The Man at the Pub will soon be charging a subscription fee to it's readers. The fees are yet to be announced but full fee paying customers will receive 100% non-stop, hardcore pub action, plus this great T-shirt! For a lesser fee, readers can choose Pub-lite, a magazine-style bloggette full of past Pub gems and associated fluff, shite and cringe-worthy banter.

If you would like to join The Man at the Pub or Pub-Lite, please click on the following form, print it, fill it out and post to:

The Man at the Pub
That Little Cupboard Next to the Hot Water System
Melbourne 3001
Victoria, Australia

And happy Friday!

...you have the power!!!!!

2009-08-20T08:21:00.003+10:00

I assume everyone's got one. One of those friends/acquaintances who send you the most god-awful powerpoint presentations or chain emails that are written very badly in sickly coloured large type in a terribly ugly font with far too much exclamation that say things like...

DREAM TO LIVE!
YOU HAVE THE POWER WITHIN YOU TO MAKE MAGIC HAPPEN!!!!!

THE UNIVERSE LOVES YOU!!!

(Usually followed by...)
SEND THIS EMAIL TO 30 OF YOUR FRIENDS. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!!! IF YOU DO NOT, THE DREAM WILL DIE... BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...

...that is meant to be profound but just sounds like it was written by some drug-addled hippy lurking in the back of a crystal shop, or an extremely untalented English language student who just figured out how to use email.

Next time someone sends me one of these I'm gonna send then an email that says...

BUGGER ORFF AND DIE!
YOU ARE A COMPLETE TOOL YET MAY HAVE THE POWER WITHIN YOU TO STOP ANNOYING INNOCENT PEOPLE!!!!!

THE UNIVERSE LOVES YOU, BUT I THINK YOU'RE A TWAT!!!

(followed by...)
DO NOT SEND THIS EMAIL TO ANY OF YOUR FRIENDS. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!!! IF YOU DO, YOUR MARGINAL POPULARITY WILL DRASTICALLY WANE...

Then I'll attach a nasty virus.

That'll larn 'em.

...the other white meat

2009-08-19T10:02:00.001+10:00

(Yes, I know I'm bad and I'm going to hell for that. It's not funny etc, etc., at least not in this country. Anyway, they probably have red meat.)

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...the man of the pub

2009-08-17T10:19:00.001+10:00

What makes somone get an "of" in their name followed by a place name. like Lawrence of Arabia or Joan of Arc? My mate Keith has been to Thailand but I don't call him Keith of Thailand. I've been to Sumatra but they don't call me James of Sumatra, though it might be nice.

Still sick. Tenacious bugs attacking head zone. Swollen, weeping, eyelid. Congested sinuses. Forgets how to blog properly. Back at work :o( Send food and sympathies, stat!

...sickies n' sadness n' stuff

2009-08-13T11:10:00.001+10:00

Farwell Aunty June. I only briefly met you twice, so I never really got to know you. I suppose living 2000km away doesn't help. You led a very interesting life from what I hear, and your medical career and charity work shows how dedicated you were improving the lives of others, which is just awesome. It's a shame you didn't make it to Mt. Kilamanjaro like you had planned. I would have loved to hear about it. Kilamanjaro spins me out, in a geophysical sense. A thanks for the crystal decanter wedding present. Even though the card fell off we are 95% sure it was you. For a 'traditional' wedding present, it is actually rather beautiful, and I'm, not known for my appreciation of modern crystal decanters. I don't actually believe in heaven, and I'm not sure they have blogs there so I don't know if you'll be able to read this message. Anyhow we all love you, and your little sister and her daughter really miss you already.

On more self-indulgent matters, I'm on a 4 day weekend. Woo hoo! Only catch is that I'm sick as a sick dog, ie; sick. Boooo! I have a nasty cold/throat infection and a weeping, itchy sty in my right eyelid, so I look like a prize fighter and sound like I've been punched in the throat. But on the good side, I'm on a 4 day weekend, I've stocked up on 'sickie' food (ice-cream, soft drink, etc.) which purely serves the purpose of cheering one up rather than having any therapeutic benefit, so my cup is half full. And I've been watching morning telly, which is bloody hilarious! It's all just a big ad, and is so scripted it makes me want to puke. They're just hookers for capitalism, peddling mindless consumerism. And that Reyne guy (I can't tell David from James) looks evil. All that Botox makes him look like Brendon Nelson. Ha! Take that, strange, plastic television people!

...sad at the pub

2009-08-12T12:46:00.002+10:00

It was Q's birthday yesterday, which is always cause for celebration. Only she got a call last night telling her that her Aunty June was on the plane that went down near the Kokoda Track. Q wasn't close to her adventurous Aunty, but it's still sad. At this stage they can't confirm the status of the passengers, but we're bracing for bad news.

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...fcbook

2009-08-11T15:07:00.003+10:00

I'm not a Facebook junkie but I do see it's appeal. It seems less cold than sending emails and you can keep an eye on your friends' activities, if they are also into Facebook.... assuming that you actually give a toss about them.

I do use it a few times a week however and I'm starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable in my own skin, aside from the fact that in the Legal Terms & Conditions that everyone agrees to without reading when they sign up says that apparently I and all my friends and personal information are now the property of Facebook and that the only recourse I have involves spending 'Damnation in Hades' and something about filling my mouth in with cement.

I'm relatively fine with that. What I'm not sure about is my ex girlfriend now wanting to be my friend after dumping me seven years ago, (but she's a family friend, so I guess some degree of contact in inevitable). Or weirdo, long-lost relations inlaw wanting a cut of the 'action'. I haven't even met some of these people and from what I've heard, I don't want to! Or friends of the family that you don't particularly like. Just because I've had lunch with you at Aunty Beryl's house doesn't automatically mean I want to be your friend. Or my police officer inlaw, when me and my friends come from a strictly non-policeperson background. I don't want my police officer inlaw snooping around me and my friends' shenanigans, not that we actually do 'shenanigans' anymore, but I'd like to keep the door open.

What should I do?

Should I...

a) remove all of my personal information, photos, status, etc, change my name to Enigmah (with a silent "h" to make it more enigmatic), have extensive plastic surgery, move to the mountains of Ecuador, live with a group of exiled guachos and visit Facebook once a year for the purpose of 'keeping up appearances'?

b) go and see a psychotherapist about my acute paranoia?

c) not worry about it? Befriend everyone except convicted mass murderers and then completely ignore them?

d) not get romantically involved with friends of the family ever again?

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..really bad jokes

2009-08-10T11:32:00.000+10:00

What show do horses like watching?

Neiggghhhhh-bours.

I just made that one up. You can probably tell.

I thought of it as I was thinking of this joke...

Why don't they watch Neighbours in Afghanistan?

Because there's a Tellyban.

Bwah Ha Ha Ha! Me so farkin' funny!

Its alright. You're going away now.

...born to be mild

2009-08-07T12:34:00.000+10:00

I've never been much interested in extreme sports like skydiving, hang-gliding, BASE jumping, riding your bike on Melbourne's roads or lion-taming, though I've done a bit of rock climbing and SCUBA diving in my more acne prone days... but it was over-rated. I once went SCUBA diving at Port Campbell and it was so cold several of my appendages went blue, but they had a really amazing colony of rusty shopping trolleys just off the pier, so it was ok.

So no thanks. I don't even fancy sitting in an aeroplane, let alone jumping out of one... unless I have to. So I really would prefer a parachute under my seat rather than an air-filled plastic ring with a small, red whistle. But the upshot is that I could play a nice ditty as I plunge to my death at 112.4metres/sec with an inflatable pillow around my neck. I reckon I'd play the intro to Stairway to Heaven, or maybe something by Boney M.

This may be one of the strangest questions I've ever asked but what song would you most like to play on a kazoo as you fall to your death from 30,000ft?

Happy Friday!

Time of post: 12:34:56 07.08.09. Spooky!

...randomness

2009-08-06T09:40:00.005+10:00

The Moon was walk-into-a-tree-fantastic last night. We had a huge halo around the full moon with Jupiter at the bottom right, the whole lot behind a screen of mist.

Come to think of it, I should have taken some photos, but photos never do these spectacles of nature any justice. But I did take a nice photo of a comet once.

But I can't find it, so here's a photo of some poppies I took in Canada.

Aren't they purdy?

Geek fact: If you see a rabbit in the moon (and I can't) the moon landing occured at the bottom of the right ear.

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...rick amor

2009-08-05T10:09:00.002+10:00

This is some of the work of Melbourne artist Rick Amor, and I'm a big fan.

The Ship

Broken Ship

The Runner

He's very much a Melbourne painter, but the underlying themes are universal. Tradgedy, isolation, mythology, iconography, its all there, in a subdued yet brooding way. It's subtle, but theres always something going on, ghosts and seamonsters, stray dogs and lost brides. And he does seascapes, which is great because nobody paints good seascapes anymore.

Entering the City

The Hour

Evening by the Sea

Self Portrait

I kinda wish I was doing stuff like that, but then it wouldn't be my stuff.

But maybe I like it because it is a bit like my stuff? And maybe my stuff is a bit like his stuff because I've always liked his stuff?

Either way, I find it inspirational.

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...the collective

2009-08-04T08:56:00.002+10:00

Everyone loves collective nouns. There are some absolute rippers out there, as pointed out recently by the delightful Eleanor Bloom. But what I want to know is what is the collective noun for a group of bloggers?

A rant of bloggers?
A bullshit of bloggers?
A hermit of bloggers?

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...can you hear the plunder?

2009-08-03T10:15:00.005+10:00

Have you heard this story, the one that Men at Work ripped off Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree when they wrote Downunder?

Now I'm no musical virtuoso, but those songs don't sound a bleedin' thing like each other. One is an early 80's pop/reggae smash from an obscure band from St.Kilda and now favourite of drunken, embarassing fellow Australian backpackers world-wide. The other is a campfire round written by Girl Guides (I mean no disrespect to the International Girl Guide Association, in fact I have a ton of respect. Keep baking little sisters!!*)

Apparently it has something to do with the flute bit, but I still can't hear it. I didn't even know that Kookaburra has a bloody flute in it. I also forgot how funny that Men at Work filmclip is.

Because the best way of finding out the ultimate truth about everything is handing it over to a bunch of bloggers, what say you, o' learned ones.

*I also realise that the Girl Guides Association does not continue to propagate the stereotypical role of women and girls acting primarily in the role of unpaid domestic worker. Nowadays, according their their webpage, they fight AIDS and save the enviromnment, along with making a mean chocolate crackle. Most girls join the Scouts anyway. Baden Powell would be rolling in his grave.

...r.i.p. lazarus von spiffy

2009-07-31T09:45:00.005+10:00

My Siamese Fighting Fish, Lazarus, died last night. He died in his sleep. The King is Dead! Long Live the King!

He looked a lot like this one.

He'd been sick for a while, but it's still sad. Poor little Laz. He lived fast and died youngish. He'd been looking a bit sad and bloated for a few days. Now he's gone to that great rubbish bin in the garden.

But thats alright. I'll get a better one, and I'll call it Elvis. Here's hoping he has an unbloatable stomach.

Avagoodweekendyall!

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...gone troppo

2009-07-30T14:31:00.004+10:00

I thought I'd get prepared for the impending summer by installing a new tropical themed header.

The fact that it's still July means I'm probably getting a bit ahead of myself, but a change is as good as a holiday.

(...actually, I'd rather take the holiday)

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...products I'd like to see

2009-07-30T08:56:00.001+10:00

Speaking of horses, I reckon the people involved with pet food research have got it all wrong, based on the type of foods my pets have fancied over the years.

Yummmmy!!!

(I reckon I'm in the wrong career.)

...equus mortuus

2009-07-29T08:52:00.004+10:00

(One of my most) embarrassing moment(s)?
I once told a neighbour that her horse was dead.

It wasn't.

Turns out that I don't know much about horses... or their sleeping behaviour... and that this animal in particular does a pretty good impersonation of a dead horse.

But aside from freaking you out, what are neighbours for?

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...dear friend

2009-07-28T09:48:00.001+10:00

Dear friend,

My name is Umbogumbo Smith and I call on you on this blessed day, praise Allah/God/Krishna/deity of your choice.

I am vice-president bank manager of Burkino Faso Legitimate Banking Arrangement and I write to tell you on this day that a client of mine, trusted billionaire and devoted family man Mr. Mowagimba Jones has tragincally died in private jet crash. As Mr. Jones had no family, he wanted to give his money away to lucky westerner and your email number came up in random email selection process. Hallelujah!

We would liek to inform you that we have 60 million dollars in trust and it now belong to you. Hail Jebus! Ifs God willing you are interest in the money you can reply to this email for further instruction, like your bank account number, password, pin number and all your family's credit card and pin number. Like many email from Nigeria, this one is not scam, because in God we trust and the Lord smiles our legitimate banking activity, and christians cannot be bad.

We know you have in your heart the good thinking and are kind and infected by compassion.

God bless!!!
Umbogumbo Smith
vice-president, Burkino Faso Legitimate Banking Arrangement

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...lemon cordial

2009-07-27T09:45:00.005+10:00

You know what I like?

Cold lemon cordial.

Its just so damn zesty and refreshing! And it doesn't even have alcohol in it!

Don't know why I thought you should know that.

Anyone who doesn't like lemons is bananas.

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...the duck of springe

2009-07-24T08:24:00.005+10:00

If you've seen a duck in a tree lately, fear not, for this auspicious sighting means that springe is not too far away.

The Australian Wood Duck (Chenonetta jubata) is a handsome, charismatic 'goose-like' duck that can be found near most inland water bodies across the country. These comic, web-footed little bastards are unique among ducks in their habit of nesting in trees. And they get in the mood relatively early too, around mid July, which explains why lately I've been hearing the tell-tale Brrrruuyykk of a horny wood duck in a tree.

Wood Ducks in the trees are a sign of Muyan (early spring) in the seasonal calendar observed by the Wurundjeri people, the original inhabitants of the Lower Yarra Region where I am priveleged to work. The Wurundjeri would look for signs like wood ducks shagging to notify them of changes in the seasons and therefore, where to find the best food, shelter, etc. The Wurundjeri have six seasons in a year, which in my opinion is a more accurate system for this part of the world than our four season European import.

Bullarto n'yoweenth - High Summer (November-mid January)
Creeks begin to dry up, fish move upstream, lizards and snakes active.

Wygabil-ny-ewin - Late Summer (mid Jan-mid March)
Eels move downstream, Autumn rains arrive, Yellow-box and Stringybark gum trees flower, fires lit.

Berrip - Early Winter (mid March-May)
Possums mating, many moths active, creeks flow again, fungi grow, kangaroos feed on new growth after fires.

Perrin - Deep Winter (May-mid July)
Cold, short days, river flats flooded, leaves on water plants turn brown though small tuberous herbs grow.

Muyan - Pre-spring (mid July- mid August)
Wattles begin to flower, morning frogs are heard, wood ducks start nesting, birds flocking before migration, other migrant birds arrive.

Pareip - True Spring (mid August-November)
Orchids and lilies flowering, water plants put on green leaves, joeys leave the pouch, birds breeding, snakes and lizards becoming active, River flats in flood from snow-melt.

Lovely isn't it. Makes me want to go campinge.

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...red cliff

2009-07-23T08:16:00.003+10:00

I'm going to see this next week.

Its the biggest budget movie ever made in Asia and Johnny Woo is directing. WooHoo! There's nothing I like more than watching 10000 movie extras on horseback charging into battle, and of all countries, China could afford to rustle up a few. In fact, for extra realism I think the battle scenes are actually real...or at least the non-computer-thingamy ones are.

I don't quite know why but I find such cinema quite rousing (yes that's right I said rousing). It's weird how while I am a bit of a lefty/pacifist, I am also increasingly interested by war and warfare, at least in the context of world history. It's possibly the most extreme thing humans can do together, so it is interesting, but thoroughly awful and ought not be encouraged. Make love, not war man.

So maybe I'm not actually a lefty/pacifist anymore. It might explain why everytime I hear Led Zeppelin I get a strange urge to run around pretending to be a viking and feel like invading a small offshore island.

Valhalla, I am coming!

Must be a boy thing.

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...as seen on...

2009-07-22T09:21:00.001+10:00

When I see ads boasting "...as seen on Today Tonight and A Current Affair", I think to myself, "They've just completely talked themselves out of a deal'.

They're gonna scare cutomers away if they keep that shit up.

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...my short and curlies

2009-07-21T07:28:00.001+10:00

Short posts are fun.

It means I can blog regularly without having to take too much time out of my day. Brief observations and random thoughts are easy... not too deep, not too elaborate. More like mental drool than my old verbal diarrhea. Sometimes it requires restraint, but it's a fun challenge to try and get the message across in as few words as poss....

....In fact a few months ago I was feeling particularly bloggy so I jotted down the bare bones of about 30 posts in an hour or two. Thats right, I wrote these words last January. Bugger its hot out!

OK, not that long ago but I do lay down a lot of ideas in advance when my mind is going "blblblblblblblblblblblblblblblblb!"

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...aunty dot

2009-07-20T10:23:00.001+10:00

I've got an Aunty Dot. Actually, she's my great aunty, and she's 94 years young. She's lived in Williamstown all her life. She is Williamstown. She is also a writer.

One of her short stories just got made into a short film. It's a true story she wrote called My Father is a Wonderful Man and it's about a Dutch migrant family in Williamstown circa 1950's. I can't tell you what happens, but it's sad. I can't even tell you where you could see it yet. It's still in post-production, but hopefully I'll be going to the inaugural screening.

It was great that Aunty Dot could advise the production on various elements of the story, because she's pretty old now.

We all love Aunty Dot.

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...a smoke free pub

2009-07-17T08:50:00.007+10:00

Its been 6 months since my last cigarette.

Hooray for Me!

I don't miss 'em much any more either. About a month ago when I was thinking about it, I thought Gee I haven't had a craving for a while. And it's true. My usual ten per day after coffee/meals/with beer cravings have largely disappeared. Who would have thunk it?

I must be lucky because I can honestly say it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It was hard, just not agonising. I was sure I had become a 'rusted on' smoker, 20 per day, 30 with booze for fifteen years. I guess I figured out how to play the right mindgames to convince myself that I don't smoke.

Its amazing what willpower can do. That and $783 of hypnotherapy.

Though I do wonder why I start pretending to be a chicken everytime someone says the word "satay".

Brrrk.... Brrrrrk...

Happy weekend!

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...upside down dogs

2009-07-16T11:02:00.001+10:00

For those of you who are fans of the websites I Can Has Cheezburger and I Has a Hotdog, (and lets face it, who isn't), I have found an equally entertaining pet-related-photo-humour website, which in my opinion has upped the ante in terms of sheer silliness.

Upside Down Dogs

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...world's best pizza

2009-07-15T09:39:00.001+10:00

Because I'm such a foodie, am I'm so dedicated to blogging, I'm going to combine my two passions and share with you one of my all-time favourite recipes.

World's Best Pizza

Ingredients:
1 telephone
$14

Method: Move to Murrumbeena. Call 9570 4683 and ask for a medium Tweety Bird or Prawno, home delivered. Wait 30 minutes. Pay the driver and voila!

Serves 1 - 4, depending on level of obesity.

Bon Appetit!

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...blog posse

2009-07-14T11:24:00.004+10:00

I'm bored, so I'm gonna give all my regular readers (or at least the half dozen people who have ever commented on my blog) rapper names, so they can be even cooler. Not that they need to be cooler, I'm just bored is all.

Eleanor Bloom shall be "E-Boom".

Kath Lockett shall become "Queen LaChoccy", though that better suits the Kath before her brush with Dr. Evil. So "K-licious" will have to do (as lovely as she is, I don't mean anything naughty here. I'm purely concerned with everybody's coolness quotient).

The Hungry Hungry Hipocrite (aka Jon Brooks) shall be henceforth known as the "J-Beez-Da Hungry Hip-hopocrite".

Miles Mclagan shall be knighted "Sir Writesalot".

Lorna Lino shall be "Li-Lo" (not in the inflatable mattress sense but pronounced lee-lo, coz its so much cooler dat* that way).

The Projectivist shall be given the moniker, "The Mad Projecta" (nothing to do with her sanity here, which is in tip-top shape... from what I've gathered so far).

Terence McDanger doesn't need a lot of changing, but he shall be henceforth referred to as "T McDee".

I shall be "Pub Daddy"

But I assume I'll get shot one night as I leave the pub and now I think this whole rap name thing is far too dangerous. Dat's me, livin' on the edge and shit.

Yo.

Did I mention I'm bored?

*Note: hip spelling

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...mars

2009-07-13T09:33:00.002+10:00

It that time of year again. The time when the lazy media outlets, fed by big kids with over-active imaginations bring out the old "Lets go to Mars!" idea.

Here's a few reasons why I wouldn't go to Mars.

1. There's no air, and I kind of like breathing.
2. There's no water, and probably no beer.
3. It takes about 4 years to get there, which is slightly longer than it takes to get to Mildura.
4. Dull nightlife (but considerably better than Mildura's).
5. It gets down to -140 degrees celcius, which is slightly colder than Melbourne at the moment.
6. They have a volcano 27 km high. Fuck that.

It does have a few things going for it however.
- A year goes for 683 days, so I would wouldn't age so quickly (though I'd only get half as many birthday presents).
- They have a volcano 27 kilometres high. That would be awesome.
- The sky is pink and the sunsets are blue (seriously), so I'd save a lot of money on psychotropic drugs.
- We've pretty well stuffed this planet, so I guess we'll need a new one to trash sooner or later.

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...where's the cheese?

2009-07-10T11:02:00.000+10:00

When I bought my ukelele, my local purveyor of small guitars almost convinced me to buy an $80 model, despite it being my first time.

I said I wanted to start out slowly and not rush into anything. He said that if you start playing with an el cheapo crappo instrument you'd never get into it, and he had (has) a good point. The $80 number sounds heaps better. The $300 '"concert" ukelele is a work of art. The $400 electric ukelele in the shape of a Les Paul is out of this world.

But they're not kitsch enough, all serious looking with a natural woodgrain finish. Gimme the cadmium red el cheapo number, at least until they make a decent model with a sunset and palm tree on it. Its a fuckin ukelele for godssake! Where's the cheese? And where's the "Big Bumper Songbook of Daggy Hawaiian Tunes for Utter Morons" in the book selection?

Geez! Who do they take me for? Someone serious?

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...liquid desire

2009-07-09T10:07:00.012+10:00

...and I'm not talking about beer.

I went to see the Dali-Liquid Desire show at the NGV last night.

It was thoroughly enjoyable and informative. I was never much of a Dali fan, but I am now... or I at least have a new appreciation for his work. Most of his paintings are on the small side, but they're extremely detailed. What I and many others at the show were most surprised at was his jewellry, which was superb. And his photography was very good too.

They say there's a fine line between genius and insanity, and I think that applies to Dali. George Orwell summed it up well when he said "One ought to be able to hold in one's head simultaneously the two facts that Dalí is a good draughtsman and a disgusting human being. The one does not invalidate or, in a sense, affect the other." Orwell was suspicious of Dali's love of excess and questionable allegiances to Franco and other mid-20th century European tyrants. To this day, avant garde artists are generally expected be pinkos. I reckon its a shame when politics and art mingle, though it's inevitable.

Art + Politics = Propaganda

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...crapsteaks smothered in dictators

2009-07-08T08:07:00.000+10:00

Oh how I love advertising.

I recently sent an email from my hotmail to my personal work email. When I opened up the email at work the next day, it had "Get in touch with thousands of singles in your area" at the footer.

I never gave permission for msn to attach advertisements to the bottom of my emails! I don't want them to pimp my correspondence. What next? "This email was brought to you by the Man at the Pub and Swingin Sexy Singles Chess Club. Join today!" That'll look really professional when sending my CV for the next job application.

But if they have to, where's my friggin cut?

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...hello sailor

2009-07-07T08:28:00.004+10:00

I'm not really concerned with all this hooha over male sailors having bets to see how many female sailors they can shag.

I'm just surprised that male sailors are having sex with women these days.

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...travel soundtracks

2009-07-06T10:15:00.000+10:00

You ever been on a journey, to another country or place very different to the one you call home? A profound journey, one that changed your life? Did you listen to music while you were on that journey? When you hear that music now, does it take you back to the sights, smells, sounds and emotions of that time and place?

I have.

When ever I hear Coldplay I'm transported in time to a 26 year old me happily wandering around Central and West Java and Sumatra with a crappy walkman I bought in Bogor. I can almost smell it.

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...lol

2009-07-03T08:04:00.001+10:00

Being a gen-Xer, I've always been slightly suspicious of the new language that has developed since the advent of SMS, lol

It cms 2 hav gone on beyond texting though, and now most comments and emails u c from gen-Y peeps r in this lazy lingo lol

So much so that I'm starting 2 think that lol is the new full stop lol

rofl (lol)

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...rose lady

2009-07-02T08:18:00.006+10:00

Whatever happened to the rose girl?

Do you remember when you'd go out in the city on a Friday or Saturday night, and a nice girl/woman with a basket of red roses would walk around to restaurants selling them, mostly to embarrassed looking blokes cornered into trying to look chivalrous while on a date? It was a very clever tactic. I think it was for charity or something.

I think the world would be a better place if we brought rose girl back, (though I'd hope I wouldn't bump into her every time I went out, otherwise I'd be broke!)

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...midwinter side effect

2009-07-01T09:50:00.000+10:00

'I like to spend some time in Mozambique,
the sunny sky is aqua blue...'

Bob Dylan

Actually, they say Mozambique is one of the more chilled out and beautiful places to visit in Africa.

Mmmmmozambique.

That is all.

...ukelele

2009-06-30T08:20:00.004+10:00

I bought a ukelele the other day. I've wanted one for a long time. Its bright red, and cost thirty bucks. It's very easy to play. It was either a ukelele or an electric guitar, but taking an electric guitar camping has drawbacks, like scaring the kangaroos away... and needing a generator.

I used to have an electric guitar. It was white and had "Helter Skelter" written on it in red oil paint. One of my dodgy housemates stole it back in the early 90's. I was in a band back then. We used to play for whiskey and beer. We were pretty shit.

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...EB

2009-06-29T08:51:00.001+10:00

I just made the connection that the real-life principal who acted in Summer Heights High, Elida Brereton, was one of my real-life teachers at high school.

She was really cool, partly because she'd give us chocolate frogs if we were good, so as a result all the kids were good, even the naughty ones like me. She'd travelled the world too and would show slides of her adventures from time to time. It was inspiring stuff.... and there were chocolate frogs.

All the kids loved EB.

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...weird science

2009-06-26T07:47:00.007+10:00

I went to the Star Wars: Where Science meets Imagination exhibition at Scienceworks last weekend.

Couldn't see much science though, just massive piles of overpriced Star Wars(TM) merchandise. The niblings spent more time in the giftshop... though they did have a really cool model of the Millenium Falcon, but for $18???

I think they need better fungineers at Scienceworks.

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...I had a dream

2009-06-25T07:51:00.005+10:00

I had a dream the other night that Bob Dylan loved me and thought I was really cool.

I've suddenly lost all respect for Bob Dylan.

I also dreamed that I was starring in a movie about a bunch of hikers who get attacked by several large Grizzly bears. For realism, the director made us walk around the hills where there were several large, angry, very real Grizzly bears hanging around behind the bushes, kind of like the Bear Witch Project, only scary.

When I woke up my pussy cat was standing on my head.

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...utegate

2009-06-24T08:34:00.003+10:00

What's all the fuss with this "Utegate" crap? So the government helped out a mate so what? Wouldn't be the first time. Makes the world go around I reckon, helping out mates.

So a car dealer sent a fax to the treasurer's home, so what? It's not as if they were plotting the destruction of world during a nazi-style orgy while drinking alcopops and smoking, though if the Liberals did that, it would be the last of their problems at the moment.

Ha! Boo-sucks to you Jimmy!

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...my birthday

2009-06-23T08:02:00.002+10:00

It's my birthday today. I'm 34.

In 30 more years I won't be able to sing that shit Paul McCartney song because I'll actually be 64. I can't wait. Either that or I'll be hit by a bus.

God I'm depressed.

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...shitter

2009-06-22T08:01:00.003+10:00

I still don't really get Twitter, or at least think it's importance is overstated. So I'm gonna make this blog like Twitter, for a bit anyways. I might call it Shitter, kind of rants of 100 words or less based on one simple question..."Why do I give a fuck?"

Oh and I'm going daily too, 'cept weekends (ha! me so farny)

...hoomans

2009-06-21T23:09:00.003+10:00