...the wizdom of the elders

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.

...tori amos

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.

.

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

"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!

.

...a bit o' biffo

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)


.

...bro from unzud

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.

.

...the mating of the wersh

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.

.

...yeah yeah? no no!

I never realised I was a gambler, until I saw this animated advertisement on the sidebar of a online newpaper.

And the million dollar question is...


Alarmingly, this advertisement has informed me that in the great 'Hairlotto' caper of which I unwittingly take part, not everyone wins (gasp!). The one-armed bandit spins it's three segments, randomly revealing three lucky... or not so lucky punters.


I will now present to you the three 'players', followed by a series of short questions.


"Hi, I'm Mr One. I enjoy waterskiing at my favourite resort, wearing $80 Calvin Klein underpants and maintaing a ridiculous, expensive yet fashionable pointy hairdo. My perfect day would be scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef followed by a romantic sunset dinner of freshly caught (by me) lobster with that special lady in my life, whoever she may be that week."



"Hi, I'm Mr. Two. I enjoy driving my 1964 convertible Porsche to my cabin in the mountains, where after a long day bareback horseriding through fields of wildflowers (in a masculine, 'Marlborough Man' kind of way) there's nothing I enjoy more than putting up my feet beside the open fireplace and freshly stuffed grizzly bear (shot by me) whilst sipping on some fine Cognac with the special lady in my life, whoever she happens to be that week."




"Hi I'm Mr Three. I'm into golf, strangling small animals and masturbation. Actually, I don't have that much time for golf anymore. Sometimes I get these dreadful headaches. I enjoy spending my evenings hanging around in bushes, with an axe, outside the bedroom window of that special lady in my life, whoever she may be that week"




Question 1: Who didn't go to a hairloss clinic?

Question 2: Which punter do I look most like?

Question 3: Guess which punter 9 out of 10 blokes look like, and will continue to look like, regardless of how much money and time they waste on trying to improve their appearance.



So it looks like it's finally arrived fellas; marketing male beauty products by preying on modern man's metrosexual insecurities of self image. I mean, women have been doing this to themselves for eons but now we're going to follow suit? WTF? Why are we making a rod for our own backs? It would seem that the golden age of marketing stuff to men, when being a squat, hairy, leather-skinned yob in a wifebeater, downing a pot of VB surrounded by mates slapping your back in approval was something to aspire to, is finally over. Still, we've saved a lot of money on cosmetics over the last... I don't know... four million years!

I've got a few issues (surprise) with this advertisment, which may be really disguising an unconscious desire to have a long flowing mane once again (not that I ever really did... I had a mane, but it didn't really 'flow', as happens after three years of washing your hair in saltwater). I have only one hairstyle with which I must live the rest of my life.... the RFS (Really Fuckin' Short), no longer than a #2 on the clipper comb scale. The mere contemplation of anything else brings me dangerously close to divorce. Its the "Crazy Old Balding Hippy Look Clause 1.2 " as written in the fineprint of my marriage certificate.

I digress. To begin with, not only did Mr. Three forget to go to a hair clinic, the sorry remnants of his hair has turned into a drunken bird's nest, his skin has turned a pasty white and he looks a wee bit confused. Now everyone knows that the bird's nest issue can be fixed with a nice comb-over, but obviously baldness had other side effects I was unaware of, like anemia, disorientation and an inability to hold a hairbrush.

Secondly, the gambling analogy confuses the intent of the advertiser. If male pattern baldness is a gamble as is implied, surely being concerned over such a loss is pointless. It's not like I can buy a losing ticket for a horserace, then go to a clinic to have my losing ticket made into a winning one. However, hairloss clinics only have any effect on 70% of men, and full regeneration on an even smaller percentage, so I guess it really is gamble. You could pay thousands of dollars for nothing, though I'm sure they try to sell nice toupees to the unsuccessful. So if saving your hair is akin to gambling, then I'm orf to buy some nice scalp tonic.

Perhaps the Shane Warne campaign wasn't working... after all, he is just a bogan butt-nugget (Yeah yeah!). But if we're going to sink so low as to imply that balding men are ugly, dishevelled, unsexy and genrerally uncool in order to sell a 'might-work' treatment for the financial gain of a few 'scienticians', then I'm afraid this is war, civil war, and I'll have to ask this marketer to step outside to sort this out, old school 'Kings Rules' bareknuckle style, or pistols at 10 paces perhaps? This is only fitting to defend the honour of my hair-lite brothers from this traitorous scourge, these filthy betrayers of the time honoured tradition of male cosmetic apathy. Hang em high!



The answers to the questions...

Q1 - Mr. Three
Q2 - Mr. One
Q3 - Mr. Three

.

... twitter? wtf?

Why all the hoopla over Twitter? My twitter would be like...

11:43am 24/02/2009
....just farted

11:47am 24/02/2009
... farted again....slightly louder this time

11:52am 24/02/2009
...I'm bored

11:54am 24/02/2009
...you must be bored to be reading this crap

11:57am 24/02/2009
...a bird flew past the window

11:58am 24/02/2009
...it was brown

5:15pm 24/02/2009
...nearly time to go home

5:16pm 24/02/2009
...yay

5:29pm 24/02/2009
...time to go home

6:15pm 24/02/2009
...I'm home now

6:16pm 22/02/2009
....just farted


Riveting stuff.

Twitter's homepage states...

Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?

What I figure is that if was doing anything remotely interesting or important, I'd be kind of preoccupied with it, and giving live updates from a computer or mobile would be counter productive.

3:18pm 12/05/2010
... in Pamplona, about to start the Running of the Bulls

3:19pm 12/05/2010
... any minute now

3:20pm 12/05/2010
... oops. I missed the start because I thought it more important to give a Twitter update.

3:26pm 12/05/2010
... got chased by a bull. It was the black one with the white spot on its nose.

3:27pm 12/05/2010
... wondering whether I should go and get chased by another one?

3:29pm 12/05/2010
... just farted


I fail to see the value of this latest phenomenon.

.

...patriot games

I recently came across the online quiz 'How Australian are you?' Sure it was a link in my hotmail page to a Ninemsn site so I expected pure, brainless rubbish, and was not disappointed at all. Here's the intro...

You may wrestle crocs for a laugh and kit up in the green and gold on a daily basis, but do you know who won Australian of the year last year? What's your state's flower? The finer workings of two-up? How Australian are you? Take our quiz to find out.

So I put down my croc, wiped the green and gold zinc cream from my eyeballs, took my prawns off the barbie, put the billy on to boil, took the baby out of my dingo's mouth, ate three Four'n'Twenty pies, drank two slabs of Fosters, violently puked (naturally) and got working on finding out just how "Aussie" I truly am. Oi Oi Oi!

The quiz was, how can you say it..... pathetic in every sense, which was expected. A quiz to make really dumb Australians feel smart. Remember all that kerfuffle with John Howard's Citizenship Test a few years ago? Well this quiz makes that quiz look like the Genius version of Trivial Pursuit. Maybe not, but it was so mind-numblingly lame that I had to include it here, just in case you missed it the first time, and so awful that I had to offer a fourth option in the multiple choice answers. I think my fourth option makes me even more Australian than Australian.

1. What's the fourth line of the Australian National Anthem?
a) Our home is girt by sea
b) Our home is dirt by sea
c) Our home is by the sea
d) Who cares. Real Aussies don't know the words to that song but they can recite Khe Sahn while blind drunk and hanging upside down in a Thai fetish bar, so I'm told.

2. What state is represented by the warratah?
a) Victoria
b) New South Wales
c) South Australia
d) None of the above. NSW is represented by the Waratah. Don't know what a fucking Warratah is.

3. What Melbourne suburb is Neighbours filmed in?
a) Frankston
b) Vermont
c) Red Hill
d) Vermont South (you un-Australian moron!)

4. Where is the big prawn?
a) Ballina
b) Berri
c) Kingston
d) On the Big Barbie

5. How many stars are on the Australian flag?
a) 5
b) 6
c) 8
d) Cathy Freeman

6. What does ANZAC stand for?
a) Australia and New Zealand Army Cooperation
b) Australia and New Zealand Alliance Corps
c) Australia and New Zealand Army Corps
d) Australians and New Zealanders Are Cool

7. When is the Melbourne Cup?
a) The first Thursday of November
b) The first Tuesday of November
c) The first of November
d) Too pissed. Can't remember

8. Who was the first Prime Minister of Australia?
a) Chris Watson
b) Joseph Cook
c) Edmund Barton
d) Don Bradman

9. What is a grommit?
a) A surf board
b) A novice surfer
c) Another term for bathers/togs/budgie smugglers
d) The little black rubber bit that makes the seal between the bong and the stem (must just be the suburb I'm from)

10. What does QANTAS stand for?
a) Queensland and Northern Territory Airline Service
b) Quality Aeronautical National Transport Aviation Services
c) Queen Anne National Transportation Aviation Systems
d) Queenslanders Are Not Technically Absolutely Stupid

11. Home and Away is primarily shot where?
a) Newport Beach
b) Avalon Beach
c) Palm Beach
d) Right in the middle of the screen at point-blank range

12. What is two-up?
a) A traditional gambling game, played in pubs
b) The term for a second round of drinks at the pub
c) When a person has two drinks before leaving home for the pub
d) One more than one-up

13. Who appears on the $50 note?
a) A. B. "Banjo" Paterson
b) John Flynn
c) David Unaipon
d) Some aboriginal bloke

14. Who won the Australian of the Year award in 2007 for his work on global warming research?
a) Pete Doherty
b) Tim Flannery
c) Ian Frazer
d) Cathy Freeman

15. At the 2000 Olympic Games, Cathy Freeman won gold in what event?
a) 100 meter dash
b) 200 meter dash
c) 400 meter dash
d) 600 metre Global Warming Research

16. Which British Royal Navy Lieutenant has been credited for 'discovering' Australia?
a) James Cook
b) Arthur Phillip
c) Charles Swain
d) Don Bradman

17. What year did Australia win the Americas Cup for yacht racing?
a) 1970
b) 1983
c) 2002
d) 26 years ago. Don't you think it's time to get over it?

18. What is the capital of Australia?
a) Sydney
b) Melbourne
c) Canberra
d) Yandoit

I got 18/18, even though I've never watched an episode of Home and Away in my life! Wow, I must be a fucking patriot. Wrap me in my Australian flag cape ala Pauline Hanson/Cronulla locals, but then again I suspect even Caribou herders in the boonies of Lapland would have scored at least 80%.

But at least I'm a darn sight more "Australian" than the dickhead who wrote this quiz. Not only are the 'correct' answers incorrect on two occasions (Q's 2 & 3), the author decided to use American meters as opposed to the 'correct' Queen's English metres. Traitor! Hang 'em high for treason I say!

...crikey!

Crikey! Throw another goanna on the barbie mate. I scored this hot date last Saturday night with my hot new wife so we opened up the gates on our white picket fence, jumped in our roo pouches and bounced on down to the local flicks. We got fat on pancakes (just doing my bit for the urban obesity epidemic) and went to see Austraya.

I have a bit of a thing about actually experiencing cinematic experiences in actual cinemas, so it was either that or the latest 007 offering, but I reckon the James Bond franchise lost it's mojo after Diamonds are forever and takes itself far too seriously these days. Where's the willing suspension of disbelief? Speaking of disbelief, despite all the Australia hype, controversy, promotional tie-ins, advertising, potential cringe factor and generally bad reviews, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

Australia is fairy tale, in Baz Lurhman's trademark fantastical, flambouyant style. People who are looking for something else need not apply. It is simply a high quality popcorn flick, and an engaging tribute to the golden age of Hollywood through the screen of 1940's Northern Australia, a land and time of much mythology. It's not challenging. It's not dark. It's not historically accurate. It's characters are not well developed. But it doesn't need to be it be, nor is it trying to be. It's light entertainment and a visual feast. Just switch your brain off and go for the ride.

A movie that names itself "Australia" is destined to cop a shitload of flak in a modern society so historically young, diverse and idealogically divided, and perhaps the title hasn't helped locally. But its an international film and most other nations consider Australia a bit of an enigma, and Baz does nothing to stop the mystery, in fact he plays on it through lavish cinematography, enhanced to being super-real, aided through world-class digital effects. The cut of young aborigine Nullah rising slowly out of the marsh on horseback, framed by purple crocus, water reeds and a crimson sky was exquisite, a fusion of Monet and Arthur Streeton. Preying on our age-old attraction for the romanticised, noble savage and the "mysterious" walkabout, Baz does nothing to explain that when you're a nomad, you tend to walk about a bit, but it's the mysteries of life that make the world an interesting place, and the cinema is one of the best places to explore that fascination.

As you can probably tell, I'm going in to bat for this one. I know critic's job is to be critical, but I feel that many cultural commentators have missed the point of this film. It shows that anyone in this country who dares to put their head up and try to tell a yarn about a long time ago, in a land far, far away is likely to get their head blown off, and that's a shame. We really are a sensitive lot when it comes to representing ourselves to the rest of the world.

Such cultural obstacles will continue to inhibit the potential of the Australian film industry and will do nothing to foster investment in larger budget projects. It would seem that if you want to tell an Australian story, no matter how fanciful on the big screen, don't have a big budget, don't tell anyone about it and don't have any punters come to see it. Then no one will know if you are offending them or not.

Australia is the ultimate popcorn flick. Sure the Japenese didn't really land on Mission Island because the place doesn't exist, and the cliffs in the Kimberley aren't really the 1000m drop that is presented to you. And the characters are all cliched and the ending is a bit disappointing, though not the director's preferred ending, but it's a fantasy-cum-tribute movie, not a freakin documentary. Some people will judge a film by its ability to provide a thought-provoking and challenging experience, and movies that do that are great. But I like going to the movies to ecscape the realities of life, and I can forgive a movie that may have a dodgy script, acting, etc if it makes it up to me through cinematic experience and willing suspension of disbelief.

And I'd turn gay for Hugh Jackman. So I'm giving it 4/5 packets of beer nuts. What do you reckon?