...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.

mr kipling! where for art thou?

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.

...a public hazard

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!

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...doolittle

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

"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!

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...buried treasure

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.

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...equus mortuus

(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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