"Mr Lane, can anything blow up space??"

Double fault, or just a bad rally?

2008-01-26T09:18:00.000+10:30

Sports commentators were agog last night, as they are this morning. The sky seems to have fallen in. The world has turned upside down. And Roger Federer is out of the Australian Open.

Last night's semi-final at the Rod Laver Arena was a bitter disappointment for us staunch Federer fans, as he bowed out to 20 year old Serbian Novak Djokovic, 7-5 6-3 7-6 (7-5). Djokovic played exceptionally good quality tennis, while Roger looked out of sorts and somewhat slow. After the match, an ecstatic Djokovic said that "it's just amazing, indescribable, to beat the number one player in the world, one of the best players this sport has ever had, in straight sets." Evidently, television and radio commentators and newspaper journalists also thought so, and now believe that Federer's loss portends dark days for the Swiss champion. "If he loses this, he'll start losing a lot of matches, heavily", predicted one correspondent on ABC Radio. Roger Rasheed, speaking on behalf of Channel 7, called it "one of the biggest upsets in Australian Open history", in one of the few moments he could put together a coherent sentence. Today, The Advertiser's Leo Schlink maintains that Federer was "torn apart", and that he has become a "leadfooted liability." The BBC, far more reserved in such matters, nonetheless regarded Djokovic's win as a "shock". Almost to a man, dire futures are seen for the world number one.

Roger Federer, above, and below, Novak Djokovic,
Federer's nemesis at the Australian Open last night.

Well, I say it's all garbage. We are talking about a player who, despite suffering from a stomach virus and without having played any warm-up matches for two months before the Open, managed to make it through to the semi-final, along the way disposing of such esteemed players as James Blake, Janko Tipsarevic, Tomas Berdych and Fabrice Santoro. True, Tipsarevic took him to five sets, but Federer still won. What is more, saying that losing to Djokovic is a "shock" is like saying that Liverpool could never beat Arsenal. Novak is the world number three, and a player touted as the next big thing in men's tennis. He has now played Federer seven times, and won twice; that one of those victories was in the Australian Open semi-final does little to assuage the fact that Federer has a winning percentage of 250% over his erstwhile opponent. Yes, Federer is brilliant, and no, we don't expect him to lose, but if he does, what shame is there losing to the third-best player in the world? Pete Sampras was, during his career, the best player on the tour, yet he occasionally lost to the likes of Stefan Edberg, Jim Courier and Andre Agassi. Did this mean he was washed up, that his career was over? No! He went on and kept winning, and that is why Pistol Pete has the world record of 14 Grand Slam titles to his name. Federer, on the other hand, has 12, and has now been the world number one for a grand total of four years and one week. Isn't it likely that, at some point, he will slip up? Or, to give credit where credit is undoubtedly due, that he will be outplayed on one or two occasions, such as he was last night?

Federer himself is philosophical about Djokovic's win, saying that "there is no doubt I have played better before. It's not easy coming out every week trying to win. You'll always run into fellow top-10 players or other guys who are on a streak or a hot run or surprise you. That's the difficulty about tennis." If anyone knows how difficult it is to win, it should be Federer, having made fifteen consecutive Grand Slam semi-finals, which by definition means he faces off against one of the four best players at that tournament. That he has gone on to win most of them, and in fact win 12 titles as a result, is astonishing. And it is this success that means we are profoundly shocked when he is beaten. As Federer said last night, "I've created a monster that I need to win every tournament." If he doesn't, our commentators see writing on the wall where there is none.

In actual fact, there is no shock to Federer's loss to Djokovic, other than possibly the fact that he lost in straight sets. When Roger Rasheed, himself a mediocre and uninspiring tennis player in his own day, began to sprout all manner of doom-and-gloom predictions for Federer's career, fellow commentator and former world number one Jim Courier was quick to correct him, pointing out that the far more comprehensive straight sets win by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga over second seed Rafael Nadal the night before was certainly more of an upset. Tsonga is unseeded and well down the world rankings, while Nadal had previously had a white-hot Australian Open, and was being touted as a possible champion. By comparison, Federer's defeat by the number three player at the tournament must surely rank as a ripple rather than a wave.

Yet commentators insist on putting the worst spin on the match. Advertiser man Schlink gleefully points out that this is the earliest that Roger has lost in a Grand Slam in years, conveniently playing down the fact that this is the semi final, the second-to-last match in the entire tournament. Radio reporters insist that other players on the tour now know that Federer is not invincible, something they surely knew already, as this is not the first time he's lost to Djokovic, let alone to anyone else. And, while journalists feast over the fact that Federer is unlikely to win three Grand Slams this year like he has for the previous many years, let's not ignore the fact that Djokovic or Tsonga, whoever holds that Rod Laver Trophy aloft tomorrow, will find that Roger's name is already etched into the silver. Three times.

So before we consign Federer to the scrapheap of sporting has-beens, let's reflect on the fact that he lost in the same round as the world number two, and was beaten by the world number three. Let's also reflect on the fact that the 7-5 6-3 7-6 scoreline is comparable to Federer's win over Djokovic in last year's US Open final (7-6 7-6 6-4), and that Federer wins two and a half matches against Djokovic for every one that Djokovic wins. Consider as well that Roger is on the verge of beating Sampras' record in Grand Slams, and I think you'll see why Jim Courier, John Alexander and even Novak Djokovic, in saying that Roger is either one of or else the best player ever, are still correct, and will be for some time to come. After all, as Roger himself said, "still, the semi-finals is not bad."

Tell me how many other players made it that far. Now tell me that any one of them losing at that level will destroy their career. There, now you know how stupid it sounds.

Talent Hour

2008-01-10T16:55:00.000+10:30

It may seem surprising in the age of multi-quadrillionaire celebrities having moons named after them because a film of theirs did quite well, but talent these days is as hard to come across as a dodo. And it's about as rewarded as a dodo, insofar that they are dead as...well, you know the rest.

In this, I am quite certain that evidence bears me out. Jack McDevitt, for instance, is a very talented author, creating excellent worlds out of nothing but his imagination, but who is generally ignored because the literary geeks of the world suddenly act like twelve year-olds because McDevitt writes science-fiction. Then it's a case of "LOL sci-fi isn't really literature LOL." Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, on the other hand, wrote possibly the most boring twaddle known to mankind, because it bills itself as factual-based fiction but is actually a socio-political rant about Stalinism, and yet critics have wet-dreams about Solzhenitsyn's and gleefully expound on its thought-provoking and emotionally-challenging themes. Look, I'm sure the guy had a tough time in the gulag, and I'm equally aware that this was an important issue. But just because Calvin Coolidge had important things to say, does not mean that his Gulag ArchipelagoHave Faith In Massachusetts is a literary oeuvre. I'd much rather read about Alex Benedict, Indiana Jones of the something-bazillionth-century, and his life on Rimway. Certainly more than a political polemic dressed up as fine fiction.

The same goes in music. Elvis Costello is a clever lyricist, but is better known for his dress sense than anything else. Aiming to be in a band and write the Great American/British/Australian Song is a surefire way to land yourself living out of your car, but then there are people like Britney Spears. Britney is rolling in cash, for the reason that her music makes sweaty, pockmarked nerds dream about her frolicking around in a too-tight leather skirt and not much else, and because average early teen girls want to know how they can get the popular boys to imagine them frolicking around in a too-tight leather skirt and not much else. Britney's famous (and fatuous) insistence that she would be a virgin until she got married inspired millions of young girls worldwide, many of whom didn't know what virginity was but liked the sound of the word, to lose it as quickly as they could. Brit could probably be put on trial at the Hague on charges of making Supre popular and knocking it into impressionable heads that the Australian Government's Baby Bonus could be collected at 14. Oops, they did it again. And yet she is rich beyond my wildest imagination.

And what is my point?

...I'm not too sure.
By the way, look up Zero Punctuation. Gold.

Green with envy

2007-11-22T14:19:00.000+10:30

I do not understand the green movement.

Don't get me wrong. I understand that the environment is important. I think minke whales should be protected, and that we should take steps to secure fresh water supplies, before China and India go to war over the glaciers in the Himalayas. I think that watering your prize-winning rhodedendrons is not as important as having enough to drink, and I don't much care for the exceedingly charred tan the hole in the ozone layer will probably give me sometime soon.

But there are some limits to what is common-sense environmentalism, and what is utter crap. And there's quite a lot of the latter going around at the moment. First off, the political party, The Greens. This is a little like Nick Xenophon. They have a party platform, being that they want Australia to be environmentally-friendly. Kyoto sounds like a top idea, carbon emissions should be reduced, and Mike Rann's head should be tapped as a source of geothermic energy. Sounds all very well and good so far. But what about issues other than the environment? If the Greens are primarily, as their name suggests, an environmental party, are they actually qualified to introduce bills regarding social justice, economics, diplomatic initiatives? This is especially difficult when we consider that they have not exactly said much about anything apart from Kyoto, carbon emissions and Mike Rann's head. It's a bit different to, say, the German Bündnis 90/die Grünen, also a "Green" party, but one which, in its campaign literature, also has a specific focus on other areas. As I said, the same problem can be seen with Nick Xenophon, and the Anti-Cruelty to Animals Party; it's all very nice if you don't want Australians to spend six zillion dollars on pokies, or if you think sheep aren't having a fair go, but what about taxes? How about free trade agreements? What are your positions then? Kind of limits the focus a little, don't you think?

But, admittedly, the Greens are not the worst of the green movement. Of course, energy is a primary issue these days, and we've been told lots that fossil fuels are bad. Okay then, I can understand that. But in the same breath, we are told that we should not, ever, have atomic power plants. Coal-fired power stations are bad and should be wiped out, but we can't replace them with a cleaner alternative. Apparently, this is due to the waste byproducts generated, which could be sunk deep into the earth, somewhere no one cares about (like Elizabeth), and left to degrade for a while. Also, though nuclear power stations have very few emissions other than steam, they're a shocking alternative, we are told, because they will explode. It seems that a catastrophic meltdown is a dead certainty, and those who oppose reactors point solemnly to Chernobyl. Because, of course, we would use outdated Soviet technology to build a fundamentally flawed atomic power plant on the intersection of three seismic fault lines. A quadrillion to one chance of an accident is too much for us to stomach. But then, what are the alternatives?

Our trendy green friends tell us that solar is wonderful, but it is actually very inefficient. At the moment, we really don't have the ability to store nearly as much power as we would need, meaning that any solar power plant would have to be supplemented by some other, more conventional means. Wind power is another alternative. This is a problem because:

there has to be wind,
we'd need to build hundreds of the turbines to generate a fraction of what a nuclear reactor could,
the turbines are ugly.

No joking there. It is amazing how many of our rat-milk-latte-sipping environmental activists tell us how lovely wind power is, but then bitterly complain about what eyesores the turbines are. Not trendy enough, it seems.
Hydroelectricity is an excellent alternative, until it actually needs to be built. Then, our unshaven, earthy colleagues whinge about the environmental impact of building a dam. Any time a hydroelectric dam is even mooted, greenies point hysterically at China's Three Gorges Dam, and bitch non-stop about the number or rare mosses and earthworms that will soon be drowned. We can't even buy fifty billion hamsters and put them on treadmills to generate electricity, because then the environmentalists would shoot us for being cruel to animals.

Speaking of which, environmental militancy is on the rise again. Recently, it was suggested that, as Japanese whalers are stopping in our Antarctic Whale Sanctuary to butcher some whales for "research", the Royal Australian Navy could use force to get rid of them. I personally think it's a brilliant idea. Send one of the whaling ships to the bottom with a Harpoon missile or some shells from a Bofors deck gun, and see how many come back to try again. But then, our green friends would complain about the heavy metals that then litter the seabed. Probably because the Japanese are meant to be our friends, Mr Alexander Downer says that we won't blast any whaling ships out of the sea, which is a pity, but probably wouldn't be too politic. Okay, I understand that. But now some group says they'll be taking their small flotilla of boats down to the whale sanctuary, and they'll be ramming the Japanese ships. Given that these are green boats, I imagine they're made of some environmentally-friendly biodegradeable plastic or something, but five will get you ten that, whatever they're made from, a dedicated whaling trawler is going to make very short work of it. The damn things are designed for extensive cruises near icepacks, for christ's sake. The result of a ramming will probably be fifteen greenies manning the lifeboats as their own vessel sinks out from underneath them. And then what? Do they expect the Japanese to rescue them, or is the Royal Australian Navy expected to send a frigate to pick them up?

Just goes to show that it's often a good idea to think things through.

One final thought, and not to do with our v-neck, organic sweater-wearing colleagues. I was visited by two Jehovah's Witnesses today, who tell me that the Kingdom of Heaven will be ruled by God and 144,000 advisers. All, presumably, Jehovah's Witnesses. According to JW-media.org, there are currently 6,700,000 Jehovah's Witnesses. Let's assume, although the figure will be on the low side, that, since foundation of the Bible Students/Jehovah's Witnesses movement in 1876, there have been 10,000,000 Jehovah's Witnesses. This means that only about 1 in every hundred Jehovah's Witnesses will be chosen by God to go to Heaven. If you're a Jehovah's Witness, it must be pretty crappy knowing that you might have the same faith as every other Witness, ever, and yet you're pretty unlikely to be favoured by your god. Why would you bother?

Brand New

2007-11-15T20:42:00.000+10:30

What is new? Or rather, who is new?

Well, here's the answer.

This is the newest member to my family, little Zac Thomas Hazeldine, first son of Stuart and Stacey, and thus my new cousin. But I'll say nephew, as I like the idea of being an uncle.

So, to the (very) young Zac, I can only say, Yo.

Seven Worlds

2007-11-14T01:10:00.000+10:30

Crowded House are the definitive Australasian band. There can be no argument to that, especially after Tuesday night's concert, at the Adelaide Entertainment Centre.

The gig began with special guests, Augie March. These guys come from Melbourne, and when I first heard of them (and saw their lead singer on Spicks & Specks) I thought they'd be something super-duper alternative and weird, a la The Grates or some other experimental band who have difficulty making music. I wasn't expecting much, so it doesn't say much that my expectations were exceeded. What I should say is that they were blasted out of the water. Seriously, they were that good. I was muchly impressed, and fully intend to buy Moo You Bloody Choir in the morning, or whenever the hell I wake up.

But as good as they were, Augie March are not Crowded House, and soon Neil Finn and Co. were up on stage, beginning with a fabulous rendition of my old favourite, Private Universe. This high energy, thumpingly good intro was just a taste of what was to come, though. Neil Finn, Nick Seymour (or is that "Soymir"?), Mark Hart and Matt Sherrod expertly crafted a show of older, universally known hits, lesser-known gems, and the latest offings from their latest studio album, Time on Earth. In the first category, Don't Dream It's Over would, by rights, have stolen the show. However, Weather With You captured the audience's hearts so completely that even the ushers forgot what they were supposed to be doing, while Locked Out, possibly the finest Paul Hester-driven song ever, was so unbelievably energetic that you'd almost have thought the much-missed drummer was still banging away at cymbals and running through laneways, furiously shaking maracas like his life depended on it. Speaking of Hester, no one could ever replace him, but Sherrod, who used to play with Beck, seems to have been both the most logical and perfect choice to take his place.

About midway through the concert, Neil decided that it was time to pull out one of the very old favourites, and with Nick, Matt and Mark offstage, he sat down at the keyboard and belted out a magnificent rendition of the Split Enz classic, Message to my Girl, which made more than a few people in the crowd bleary-eyed with emotion. That's not to say it was only the old, old material that got playtime; in addition to the likes of Fall at Your Feet, little-known songs, such as Hole in the River, got a rousing reception, and Time on Earth fans were rewarded with pitch-perfect performances of Transit Lounge, Say That Again, Pour le Monde and Don't Stop Now. After two encores, the extravaganza closed with Better Be Home Soon, and the audience left, $80 out of pocket but just that little bit richer than when they arrived.

If you haven't yet bought Time on Earth, or are completely uninitiated in the art of Crowded House, buy now. Don't even hesitate for one second. And if they come back, bite the bullet and get yourself a ticket. I guarantee you I'll be there, too.

The death of the Sunday night movie, and other cliches

2007-09-24T00:15:00.000+09:30

Tonight there is a movie on Channel Seven, by the name of Final Approach. No, not destination. Approach. It "stars" Dean Cain, and you can really see why he never became anything after Lois & Clark. He is the duddiest dud in a movie that plumbs the depths of duddiness. Basically, it adheres to a whole heap of film cliches, plus really bad SFX. In short:

Random terrorists hijack a plane. One of the passengers just happens to be the most respected FBI hostage negotiator in the history of the universe.
Said FBI passenger worked, respected and beloved, until one mistake many years ago led to the deaths of several hostages; as a result, his reputation has been forever tarnished.
Hijackers say they have a dirty bomb on board, and will detonate it over Los Angeles.
Somehow, against all odds, the FBI passenger defeats the hijackers.
The good guys take control of the plane just a few seconds before the Air Force would receive orders to shoot it down.
As luck would have it, the pilot has been killed and the copilot knocked unconscious, leaving the plane in the hands of a man who has never flown anything before, but must land the aircraft safely anyway, with the help of air traffic controllers.

Excuse me for being a cynic, but isn't this the plot for just about every hijack movie ever made? In fact, to save time, the pilot should carry a gun on board, so that, the moment there is a whiff of hijacking in the air, he can club the copilot over the head, and shoot himself, thereby saving the terrorists the trouble of doing it themselves. Also, I believe they could simplify the unbelievable bits about the Member of the Public who becomes a pilot, and specifically his communications with Air Traffic Control:
Plane: Um, hi. The pilot of my plane is dead and I have to somehow land this 400 tonne jumbo jet at the nearest high-density airport, without dropping it on to the populous city below. You gotta help me!
Air Traffic Control: Okay pal, take it easy, we'll make this real simple. Now, first thing's first...have you ever played Microsoft Flight Simulator?
This would also make the possibility of crashing much easier to deal with.
Plane: So, what happens if I look like I'm about to hit a building?
ATC: Simple. Just press 'Y', and then hold down 'F4' until you're high enough...

But really, there are a whole heap of cliches in the movie world, and soon, all movies become formulaic. These include:

in the army, all officers are idiots/cowards/nancy boys/all of the above, and it's only because of their second-in-command, a hard-bitten and battle-scarred sergeant who has seen it all, that everyone gets through it alive;
also in the army, there is always a soldier named Kowalski, and any military action ever undertaken was undertaken solely by Americans - even in the ancient Greek wars;
the poor street kids who are more likely to end up in gaol will always come good, thanks to some superfantastic teacher who miraculously appears and somehow wins their respect and gratitude;
any racial tension, riots and massacres in any town or country can be overcome by sporting success;
the protagonist in any romantic comedy always has one or two token gay friends for moments when entertainment is needed;
the guy with the British accent is suave and beloved by all, but is actually the bad guy.

In other news, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK! ZOMG!

Back with their third studio album, the boys from Minneapolis have come out with a quality record yet again. Even if it Kills Me is a marvelous fusion of their first two albums, I am the Movie and Commit This to Memory, with some innovative new experiments in melody and lyrics that work perfectly. The moog is back, the guitar is back, Justin Pierre's hair is back. Everything impresses.
Songs of the album: at the moment, Calling All Cops and Hello Helicopter.
Rating: Twenty million. Out of five.

The Star Trek: Mariner site is in production, and the novel, The Omega Paradox, is still being written. Yes, I know my original deadline was for March 2007, then September 2007, but it's looking more and more like May next year, if then. But it's shaping up nicely. As for the site, it is unbelievably excellent, thanks to the web design genius that is Courtney M. Jameson. Thank you so much, CourtneyBerry, and to everyone else, you'll soon see why I'm so excited about this.

Finally, if anyone needs to buy a computer or other home office things from David Jones around Christmas, come visit me, eh?

21

2007-09-01T00:00:00.000+09:30

Right now, family members are plotting to give me presents. Parents could be planning an embarrassing photo opportunity, and people I work with will be getting drunk in the afternoon. I'm Special Agent Bodie Ashton, and the next 24 hours will be the most awesome twenty-first birthday I've ever had...

...hey, wait a second...

PREVIOUSLY ON 21
*Lauren* "Wait, was I meant to actually be at my own 21st party? How rad is that??"

*Jenkins* "Pool. Scotch. Hell, I'm cooler than cool."

*Raf* "Yaaaaargh!" *runs into pole, breaks leg*

*Stevo* "Oh my God, my 21st was sooo bad! I'm gonna kill myself cos I'm so shit...wait, no I can't! DRAGONFORCE!!"

...and a sneak peak of this week's episode:
Setting: Belgian Beer Cafe. Bodie is sitting, drinking Belle-Vue. Mobile rings.
Bodie: "Hello?"
Voice: "Bodie."
Bodie, instantly sober: "Good afternoon, Mr President."
President: "Bodie, I understand this is your birthday. But you must understand that my duty is to the people of this country first. I cannot let my own personal feelings get in the way, and that includes the fact that you've saved my life on seventy-two occasions."
Bodie: "Yes, I understand, sir." *Turns to camera, dramatically* "This will be my last assignment..."

*beep-BEEP-beep-BEEP...*

Stay tuned...

The art of the sandwich

2007-08-01T23:09:00.000+09:30

I had a commercially-made submarine sandwich on Monday. And I know what you're expecting.
You're expecting me to say how dreadfully awful it was. The bread was dry, the cheese had the taste and texture of what I carry my groceries home in, and the only time the vegetables were fresh was when some snotty-nosed kid in a country much poorer than ours packaged it in the same plastic that ultimately became the cheese, seven years ago.
Well, guess what? That's not what I'm going to say at all.

My sub was a triumph of that oft-repeated but hardly ever correct statement that fast food does not mean bad food. The bacon, the cheese, the surprisingly juicy salads, slices of ham and turkey, the maybe-not-gourmet-but-still-quite-tasty-really bread, and even the salt and pepper on top...all of it was done to as close to perfection as some bored older-than-teen earning less in a year than a Japanese underwear vending machine earns in an hour can possibly make it. By the end of it, I was very very glad that I had chosen to lunch on this sandwich.

This, however, begs a question. How can it be, in this modern day and age, that the same product, made using the same instructions, from the same company, can go so horribly, horribly wrong? I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed the step-by-step instructions for everything ranging from subs to coffees to giving change, all plastered under the sneeze-guards or the cash register at your local McSub Jacks, or wherever it is you go. Surely, then, it is not so difficult for employees to follow the directions they are given. If you are making a sandwich for a customer, and they ask for tomato, carrot and beetroot, you do not put lettuce and onion on instead, do you? If they ask for extra cheese, I'm positive you can, at worst, follow the manager's guide to reaching into the cheese section and pulling out twice the number of slices as usual; staring blankly at a customer, and then ignoring their request, is not a valid response. And if I ask for bacon, you cannot expect me to eat it raw. Salmonella and E Coli might sound like legitimate ingredients for a Sicilian pizza, but I would not like them trading jokes with the turkey in my baguette, thank you very much. You see, I can read. And I can see quite clearly on those instructions stuck on the rangehood that the management expects you to microwave the bacon first. Maybe I'm being overly paranoid, but when something is meant to be cooked but is not, that is usually bad. With one 'd', not two, for those of you whose spelling is as poor as your reading comprehension. And what is the reason for this? Laziness, certainly. But a lot has to do with cultural background.

Now, hang on a moment before the politically correct police drag me, kicking and screaming, off into the dark, cold night. I am about to make some generalisations, and my argument is that one's cultural background, and specifically food norms in one culture, may not be compatible with others. This is not to say that one race is better than another. If you are able to understand the written word, you will appreciate this. So if anyone jumps on their high horse and gets offended, sucks to be you.

Now, it's common knowledge that some nationalities are more gifted in certain areas than others. Get Bill Jones from down the street to play table tennis against Zhang Li from down the street in Guangzhou, China, and chances are that Li will serve Billy Boy up on a platter, despite the fact that Bill Jones might be the Australian pingpong champ, and Li might be 12 years old. On the other hand, if Bill challenges Li to say "thank you", Bill will win this contest of obvious, eminent importance. In the table tennis example, the result is probably due to Li having been in training since he was two, while Bill competes every six months against people who play at the local RSL. By comparison, Li will say "sank queue", because he is unused to pronouncing English words, and his tongue just can't get around it. It's the same for food. Challenge three Indian sisters to make a kofta curry, and they will give you a mouthwatering feast. Challenge them to make a roasted chicken sub with five salad ingredients and mayonnaise, and they go to pieces. They will ignore your vegetable requests, they will ignore the need to microwave the chicken, and you will end up with a sandwich that resembles Chernobyl. Why is this? The answer, I believe, is that, generally speaking, not many people in India make American-style baguettes on a daily basis. It may, to me, seem like the most obvious thing in the world that meat should not be eaten raw or half-cooked, but is it so self-evident to someone whose only experience with western-style fast food options is the hectic lunch hour at the local food court? Maybe Red Subporto or other such companies should realise that their new recruits (not necessarily immigrants) are not actually aware of safe food practices over here, and provide more training. The manager at my local looked at me like I was lying when I told her that other "sandwich artists" had added raw bacon to my baguette, but no, I most definitely wasn't making it up, because the day before, in the same store, it had happened. So maybe management needs to stop taking it as given that all employees know what we routinely see as common sense, and start realising that maybe the new guy doesn't understand that the egg needs to be cooked all the way through, and that the meatballs should not be left stewing in tepid water for fourteen hours.

Then, perhaps, I can forget about safeguarding against food poisoning, and just enjoy my lunch.

Celluloid cellulite, or unwelcome movie things

2007-07-27T16:17:00.000+09:30

Apologies for not posting the happier side of Melbourne. I promise that this is coming soon!

Having seen a recent movie advertisement, I have come to the conclusion that films are going down the proverbial gurgler. Yes, it's the new Bruce Willis flick, Die Hard 4.0, which is pronounced "Die Hard Four-Point-Oh"; meaning that there should be a better version released in cinemas next year, called 4.1. Or, if it's anything like Mozilla Firefox, 4.0.0.102.
In his old age, Bruce Willis seems to be suffering from some pretty nasty complaints.
Doctor: What seems to be the problem, Mr Willis?
Willis: Doc, these hemorrhoids are killing me!
Doctor: Well, let's take a look...aaaah, I see the problem. Terrorists have taken your family hostage again, and are using them as pawns in another overly extravagant plot with little chance of success, aren't they?
Willis: Yeah, and it's a real pain in the...whoa, why didn't I think of that before? You're a genius, Doc!
It is different for Kiefer Sutherland. He is, after all, Jack Bauer, working for the Counter Terrorist Unit. And Jack is very cool. As is the rest of 24. Bruce Willis, on the other hand, is like that annoying, mature-age student in your uni course, who probably knows that whatever they say is completely incorrect and jarring, but will say it anyway, loudly and often. Or does that only happen in my courses?

Anyway...

One of the most troubling things about the movies today is that there's nothing much new going around, nothing ground-breakingly good. There are, occasionally, some diamonds in the rough. I'm thinking of Million-Dollar Baby, The Quiet American, and films of that ilk. But when the latest blockbusters include:

Transformers, which sparked a fan furore because there were flames painted on the side of Optimus Prime, which was derided by nerds globally;
I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, combining one disastrously unfunny actor (Adam Sandler) with another disastrously unfunny actor (Kevin James), producing a disastrously unfunny movie loaded with limp innuendo and tired jokes that would be more at home on the Channel 9 "comedy" The Nation, which is also (surprise, surprise) disastrously unfunny;
Blades of Glory, the latest in a string of progressively worsening Will Ferrell films;
and the aforementioned Die Hard 4.0;

it's not all that hard to see why I don't often go to the cinema anymore. There is, quite literally, nothing worth watching. And all the ones that are worth watching are foreign (such as das Leben der Anderen), and thus only shown at Palace Nova, meaning that you have to somehow work your schedule around an expensive trip to the East End. When the most innovative premise for a mainstream film in the last couple of years was Snakes on a Plane, it's time to get worried. But what would be the worst ideas for films? Please suggest some, but here are some of my own ideas:

Morse on a Horse: From the producers of Snakes on a Plane comes this year's western blockbuster! A resurrected John Thaw plays Inspector Morse, also resurrected from the dead, but finding himself (somehow) in 1852 Texas. The roving Morse, along with his trusty thoroughbred, must solve crimes all over the Wild West, while at the same time searching for a decent pint of lager.
Little Dicky: This docudrama of the life and times of Richard Nixon, before he became president of the USA, shows him to be a light-hearted, well-meaning individual, who, in spite of being crude and ridiculous, just wanted the best for everyone around him. Starring Adam Sandler as a thoroughly unconvincing Nixon, and Nathan Lane as the over-the-top token gay friend Nixon never had.
Slightly-Less-Water-World: The long-unawaited sequel of the film no-one liked! Kevin Costner reprises his underwhelming role as "the Mariner" (of no relation to the marvelous starship), as he (again) searches for land. Some action happens, probably involving pirates or sharks, or pirate sharks. Watch for the scene where the Mariner pees in a cup and then drinks it...again!
Die Hard 4.0

Go.

The hotel with no name...

2007-07-13T18:08:00.000+09:30

...we can only hope. Courtney and I just got back from a week-long holiday in Melbourne, which was quite excellent; we went on Puffing Billy, visited the Melbourne Zoo and the RAAF Williams Point Cook Museum, and shopped lots. Of course. Our accommodation, however, was sucky. In a major way. I cannot begin to do it justice in a short post. Instead, I will recreate, here at Blowing Up Space, my letter to Darling Towers. And a bit of advice for anyone planning on a Melbourne trip...for Christ's sake don't stay at 32 Darling Street...

To Whom It May Concern:

Recently my girlfriend and I stayed at your establishment at 32 Darling Street, South Yarra. As a result of this stay, between 4-9 July 2007, we would like to raise several serious concerns and complaints as to the running and condition of Darling Towers.

We had stayed with your company before, during the summer of 2006. At that time, we found our room to be adequate, and we decided to book again for Darling Street, due to its convenient location close to Chapel Street and the South Yarra train station. On this occasion, however, our lodgings were less than satisfactory. In fact, in certain respects, they were a threat to our health, and that of subsequent guests.

Upon arriving on the evening of 4 July, we soon discovered that our room was on the second floor. This in itself was not a problem, however we became concerned when we discovered that the front door to our room was jammed, and required considerable strength on my part to force it open. This jamming door was a major worry for us, as it would limit our chances of escape in the event of a fire. As I have already stated, we were lodged on the second floor; short of jumping out of the window (for obvious reasons, not the option of choice), the front door was our only way out of our apartment. Given that the kitchenettes of the apartments are equipped with gas stoves, it is completely intolerable that our only escape in the possibility of a fire would be so difficult to open. This fear was compounded when, on returning to our apartment the next day, we discovered that, even though smoking is prohibited in the building, the corridor reeked of cigarette smoke.

Later that night, we also discovered insects crawling over the microwave and bench in our kitchenette. When we had stayed at Darling Towers in 2006, our room had suffered an infestation of these same bugs, though we, probably being far more tolerant than the company deserved, ascribed this to the humid Melbourne summer, something out of the control of Darling Towers. Yet now, we find insects in our room in the dead of winter as well! It was not difficult to trace the source of these pests, though. Our room (Seventeen) had been fitted with a wall-mounted air-conditioner, which had, at some point in time, been removed and replaced by a smaller unit. Whoever had installed this unit, however, had not even attempted to seal the gaping hole that now opened the apartment to the outside world, subjecting us not only to every icy draught that blew outside the building, but also allowed our not-so-sanitary six-legged friends into the room. As you can imagine, by this stage we were completely unimpressed. But worse was to come.

In the morning, we decided that we would like a hot shower to start our first full day in Melbourne. This, I am sure, does not seem like anything unusual. What was unusual, however, was when our hot water suddenly cut out completely after only a few minutes, and did not at any point within the next half-hour reheat to anything resembling hot. Thus, we instead began our day with a frigid shower, and to make matters worse, when my girlfriend plugged in her hairdryer in the bedroom, we found that the power points did not work. Incidentally, we both fell ill that day. I am not suggesting that Darling Towers is responsible for every cold or flu bug in Victoria, but beginning a winter’s day with a freezing shower and the inability to dry one’s hair certainly would not have helped matters.

More than a little perturbed, I went downstairs to the reception desk to register a complaint. The man at reception, whose name I do not know, seemed to treat it as some vaguely amusing joke, before promising me that your “maintenance technician” would be up to fix everything shortly. It seems that your “maintenance technician” was a man with a can of bug spray, who told me that he was “expecting cockroaches”, and who proceeded to open the cupboards and, to my utter astonishment, shock and outrage, spray insecticide on, in, and over the provided kitchen utensils and crockery. He seemed not to be aware of our hot water issues, but after running the tap for a moment, he said it was “getting warm” (to my senses it was still far too cold to shower in). When I mentioned the door he said he might plane it later. This debacle was the very last straw. We stormed down to reception with a list of the problems in our room, including the fact that our crockery had now been poisoned. The same man as before was manning the desk, as well as another woman whose name also escapes me. The lady was far more sympathetic, and seemed to realise the severity of our predicament, even muttering “oh my God” when we related the tale of the bug spray-wielding maintenance man. On the other hand, the male receptionist regarded us with a somewhat smug and amused smirk, until the point when we made it very clear that, unless our living arrangements had improved by the time we returned from the city that afternoon, we would find alternative accommodation and would expect a full refund. At this point, we were assured that Darling Towers would “take care of it.” Indeed, by that evening we had been moved to apartment two, 8 Alexandra Street. Though I can in all honesty say that this room was exponentially superior to the one we had left behind, we discovered that evening that, again, the hot water did not seem to work properly. After some experimentation, we realised that the water would remain hot for approximately seven minutes at a time. From this, we theorised that the Darling Towers hot water systems are set on a timer. If this is the case, we were never informed of the fact. If this is not the case, then the hot water systems at Darling Street and Alexandra Street are simply atrocious, possibly due to the fact that they cannot be repaired by a tin of Baygon. We became so fed up with our treatment at the hands of Darling Towers that we did, indeed, seek alternative accommodation for the weekend.

I have not written this letter with the intention of soliciting some empty letter of apology from Darling Towers. Instead, I am insisting that some action be taken to improve the living conditions at your establishments, which are at present deplorable. With regards the hot water, it is outrageous that the usage be timed. We paid for our room; that includes usage of electricity and water. We planned many long day trips in and around Melbourne; it is natural that we might have wanted a somewhat more relaxing start to the day than a mad rush to wash before the water turned freezing. Moreover, it is no exaggeration to say that our very lives were put in the gravest danger by the malfunctioning front door, especially with the presence of gas lines and cookers in most of the Darling Street apartments. I am not a small man, and I found that, with a considerable effort, I could force our door open. What chance, I wonder, would less powerfully built guests, perhaps even children, have if there were a fire and they were trapped in a room similar to the death-trap that was number seventeen? How many other rooms at Darling Street have defective and dangerous doors? I do not accept the explanation offered to me that the company was “not aware” of the problem. I was under the impression that the term “serviced apartment” means that staff gain access to the apartments in order to, as the name suggests, service them. The staff must therefore have been fully aware that the door jammed, just as they would have been well aware of the large hole in the wall, through which cold blasts of air and unwelcome insects poured. That these flaws existed in the first place is an indicator of the substandard level of maintenance at the facility. That there had been no measures taken to correct them, even though they must have been well-known to the staff of Darling Towers, is likewise an indicator of the disturbingly cavalier and dismissive attitude that the company has towards customers who pay in good faith. When we booked, we were not expecting a room akin to a Ritz penthouse, but we did at least expect a room with reliable hot water and sanitary conditions, free from fire hazards and bug infestations. We certainly did not pay for a man to spray insecticide on crockery that we are expected to eat from. Granted, we did not intend to use the kitchen utensils anyway, but what about other guests in other rooms, or even those who later booked our room? What guarantee is there that the same thing hasn’t happened hundreds of times? How would Darling Towers explain to its guests that its maintenance personnel have knowingly and willingly poisoned the very table- and kitchenware that they are using to prepare dinner? How can any of the appalling service and conditions that we were forced to suffer during our stay be explained at all?

As I am certain you will have determined from the content of this letter, during our stay at Darling Towers we experienced events and practices that cannot be dismissed as annoyances or inconveniences, but rather grossly negligent behaviour and conditions that surely contravene a great many of Victoria’s health and safety regulations. As such, we are seriously considering contacting the authorities, in the hope that they might take action to ensure that no one else has to put up with the same outrages that we did. Whatever the outcome, I can assure you that we will never again stay at any of your company’s facilities, and we will actively dissuade friends, relatives and colleagues from doing so as well. Your company very nearly ruined our holiday. We believe that this is the least we can do in return.

Yours sincerely,

Bodie A. Ashton.-

Even basic thought doesn't come naturally after two and a half hours of sleep...

2007-06-29T08:51:00.000+09:30

Well, it's finally happened. After years of speculation, and not all that long after announcing his intentions, Tony Blair has resigned as British Prime Minister. This leaves Gordon Brown as PM. Some may rejoice in Blair's departure. I, for one, do not. And here's why.

It's easy to blame Tony Blair for many things, especially the Iraq War. But let's put things in perspective here. Blair was in power for ten years. That is a phenomenal achievement for any leader of a country with a democratic voting system. Just ask Mr Howard in Canberra. It is easy for people to look back and say that Blair, like Howard, was not the perfect Prime Minister. But then, like John Howard, when the elections came around he was voted back in with monotonous regularity. Does the population suffer from amnesia come the ballots, or was Blair an intensely popular politician? I believe the latter is the case. Certainly, unlike in America, where any man and his dog can be president (as long as they're filthy rich and have brothers in high places), the United Kingdom works on a majority rules system. Quite simply, you cannot become Prime Minister unless you garner the majority of the votes. Obviously, Blair did this. More than once. So while our English friends can whinge in retrospect about the Bad Things (TM) that Blair might have done, they cannot deny that, for ten years, he not only served them, but served them in a way that pleased and impressed them enough to gain millions upon millions of votes in the General Elections.

Blair has also been instrumental in pushing for African poverty relief. Bob Geldof might, with his lecturing tone and accusing glare, complain that Blair did not do enough for the impoverished masses of the continent, but the fact remains that Blair, like so many others, has been bashing his head against the US establishment, trying to commit them to humanitarianism that they don't want. At various G8 summits, for instance, he has pushed for African debt to be cancelled, and for an increase in funds to various African states. George W. Bush, on behalf of the United States, has scuttled this hope at every turn, but at least it was a positive sign from one of the most important countries in the world.

Then, let's look at Iraq. Sure, we can point to Iraq and complain about what a right royal cock-up it has been; I should know, as I do this all the time. But, again like John Howard, Tony Blair is not to blame for this. When Bush declared that "either you're with us, or you're with the terrorists", it hardly gave much scope for compromise. Especially if, like Blair, you're the leader of a country whose major trading and defence ally is the United States. While the Iraq War has been a disgrace, the UK did not have much of a choice. When France refused to back the Iraq War, it took a pummelling in the US, and France does not have so much of a vested interest in that country. So while we may despair over the fate of the Iraqi population, when it all boiled down to it, Blair did what he had to do to keep Britain's head above water.

And now he's gone, replaced by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who is essentially a glorified accountant with flabby cheeks and an I-want-to-eat-you smile. But in leaving, Tony Blair will be remembered by history as one of the greatest statemen of the Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries.

Knowledge

2007-06-21T17:18:00.000+09:30

Did you know that the word scumbag was originally a euphemism for a used condom?

...actually, there was going to be a point to this post. But I forgot it.

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Experts Say

2007-06-14T18:22:00.000+09:30

In the past few weeks, our lovable newspaper, The Advertiser, has treated us to some glorious headlines. So let's look at the three best nominations for MOST OBVIOUS HEADLINE OF THE YEAR AWARD, and yes, you can vote. I might see with Pat if I can get a voting engine up and running, but otherwise, tag and let me know what you think is the best:

Harder to fill jobs that nobody wants.
Presumably it is a great shock to everyone that no one is willing to take on a job that they don't want...

Playing football causes brain damage.
You could probably tell that by the permanent expression on Fraser Gehrig's face. I am also expecting the related headline soon: "Watching football causes brain damage."

Wet roads "more dangerous": RAA.
Yes, after years of research costing millions of dollars, the RAA comes up with this amazing fact. Also, that cars without wheels are harder to drive.

Go.

One night in a Big house, where it's extra newsworthy and somewhat boring

2007-06-12T17:49:00.000+09:30

Some thoroughly crazy things have been happening to the world recently. So let's categorise these things:

PARIS HILTON
You can't get much crazier--or stupider--than the Hilton clan. After Paris was charged with driving while disqualified from doing so, she defended herself by insisting that "my people" handled those affairs, and therefore she didn't realise she wasn't allowed to drive. Despite her licence being revoked earlier. Surely even Paris, thick as she is, would've realised that a disqualified licence means that you are disqualified from driving, and that if you get caught driving without a valid licence...well, then you're in trouble. But the best was yet to come...

Convicted by the court, Paris has her sentence cut in half. Presumably because she has boobs and a lot of money. And a really weird and permanent facial expression.
Paris' fans start an online petition to free her, saying that she "enriches our ordinary, mundane lives" by being "fabulous", and as a result, any breach of the law should be ignored, given what she does for the community. Obviously, the creator of this poll is a paedophile, as Paris' major legacy is making 12 year old girls feel like it's okay to shop at Supre and put out at any given opportunity. Paris replies, imploring people to "Sihn the petition." Presumably, "her people" usually handle all matters regarding spelling.
Having served four days of her sentence, Paris is released to home detention, citing unspecified "medical reasons." The sheriff insists that he was doing the right thing. The judge insists that the sheriff is an idiot. Paris insists that she wants her mum. It all ends in tears, especially for the public, who are absolutely confounded about whatever the hell is going on.
Reports from prison indicate that Paris has "stopped eating." This, I believe, is not a new development. I doubt she's eaten in years.
And finally, and somewhat inevitably, Paris Hilton says that "God has given me another chance." Any shred of a chance that I might believe in a benevolent god has now been completely smashed.

If Paris writes a book about her "traumatic" experiences behind bars, I swear I will ram it down the throat of the nearest skank I find.

BIG BROTHER
It's on TV. This is all we need to know to be afraid and disgusted.

TOOHEYS EXTRA DRY

Okay, so beer ads are often quite odd and, as a result, cool. Who could forget the Big Ad, Flashbeer, or the West End Draught one with the faux "Come to South Australia" infomercial? But Tooheys have gone a bit far with this ad, which makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, what is the message behind it? "If you drink Extra Dry and have a really bad haircut, you too can breed an entirely new subspecies of humanity, complete with their own set of hideously poor hair styles!" Now, I'm sorry. I believe I can think laterally and logically, and I'm pretty sure that metaphors and symbolic representations are not beyond me. But as for this ad, I just...don't get it. It only makes me want to murder hillbillies, not drink Extra Dry...

THE ADVERTISER
"The State Government's 2007 Budget indicates that we have a brave government, willing to go into debt..."
Hang on...didn't we spend the best part of a decade dragging ourselves out of the debt-ridden hole that the SA Labor Party had plonked us in with the State Bank debacle et al? And how come the Howard Government is lambasted for not going far enough, when it is attempting to instigate nation-wide water reforms, while the Rann Government is applauded, even though the 2007 Budget makes no allowances for water conservation? Does someone on North Terrace think that the rain we've had recently will continue permanently? If so, may I get the same model of crystal ball they have?

AFL
What is it with AFL players having godawful names these days? But more to the point, what is it with commentators making sly jokes about them?
"That pass by Goldsack was rather hairy..."
"Cocks long to Dick, but Dick just wasn't big enough there..."
"Johnson was taken by the head there."
But in general, commentators' jokes are pretty longwinded and somewhat not funny:
"Essendon will play it around the back lines here, it's their tactic called 'Bore and Score'."
*two mins later*
"Not much happening with the 'score' aspect, maybe it should be called 'Bore and Bore'."
"Actually, I think it's a spelling error. It should be 'Bore and Snore'."
"Haha. There's a lot of boring happening down there at the moment...and I imagine a lot of snoring too!"
"Yes, but not much scoring."
"No, despite the fact that score and snore sound similar, they're not much alike in this case."
"Or in any case, Den."
"Quite right. But it's hard to see how the Bombers can score from here. They may just continue to bore..."

And with that, I've had enough of looking at silliness. Fare thee well, eyebrows, and I shall return.

...and I'm back

2007-05-30T16:53:00.000+09:30

Apologies for my almost month-long absence from my blog. Recently my family suffered a bit of a crisis, resulting in my uncle passing away last Tuesday, after a short struggle with brain cancer. So yes...sorry. And I will have a post of some description sometime soon.

Headlines of the Future

2007-05-03T20:30:00.001+09:30

Remember this? Well, I got to thinking that, perhaps in 2026, we'll somehow all make the newspaper headlines. So here's an index from our favourite newspaper, The Oddvertiser, dated 3 May, 2026...

THE ODDVERTISER
Index, 03-05-2026
Published by News Limited, Adelaide, South Australia

DOMESTIC NEWS

Biological Impulses--Survey shows schoolboys lead the way in Biology.
"It's all about the reproductive system", says Kadina teacher Jamie Illman.

Top Honour for Sports Star--Former rugby, soccer and tennis superstar Andrew Stevenson awarded Order of Australia Medal for contribution to world sport.
"I really do suck", he claims.

American Offer for State's Top Solicitor.
Foden contemplates future as Australian King's Counsel or New York District Attorney.

J.D. Aerospace Set to Open Port Willunga Factory--More jobs for SA seafront.
"Means I can go fishing and design planes at the same time", CEO Jacob Davey says in exclusive Oddvertiser interview.

WORLD NEWS

Tortured Journey--African Union withdraws complaints of possible covert US torture camps on their soil, after key Counter-Terrorist Unit official visits Kinshasa.
"I only messed with their heads a little", bloodstained Thuc Le Tat insists.

Dual Honours for Australian Artists--Photographer and painter wow crowds in New York City.
Woodward and Birve offered extended exhibitions, with demand for their work increasing across America.

World International Scottish-Polish Association Formed--Chances for success "promising", according to Chairman Angus McNab Main.
WISPA name "silly", critics charge.

New sql_lall v.3.0 Operating System Launched--CEO Coleman destroys Microsoft's former dominance.
Conservative estimates claim that MortalPuddle will recoup "bazillions" of dollars from sale of software.

President Juan-Paolo Legaspi Enters Space Race--Philippines becomes latest world power in orbit.
"This is just one small step", Caitlin Hadrill-Legaspi, driving force behind islands' modernisation, exclusively tells News Limited.

Stadium Record--190,000 fans turn up to Greek soccer game.
90% of spectators "family" of Sports Minister Kadis.

BUSINESS NEWS

"Keynes Can Blow It Out His..."
Bihari explains why his model of economic development reigns supreme.

The IT Crowd--How Courtney Jameson found the secret to IT consultancy success.
Perseverance, human touch, sponsorship from Tatty Teddy company sees CJ Consulting stock rocket to the top of the market.

MEDICAL SUPPLEMENT

Beans There, Done That--Adelaide surgeon explains why he's developed the world's first testicular transplant.
"Doctor Beat inspired me": Gieroba.

Decaffeinating = Destroying?
Simon Mitchell explains new research, proving that twenty-six cans of V is the ideal daily caffeine intake.

LITERARY SUPPLEMENT

Historical Inaccuracy--Australian historian sparks controversy by attacking esteemed scholar Richard Pipes.
"He should shove his proto-fascism and accept that without Stalin, the Second World War would've ended in our defeat", Ashton argues.

SPORT

Prime Motivator--van Ryswyk explains why he was regarded as the "angriest man in world football".
"I'd just think of third-year group assignments. Then I'd smash someone's head in."

Luck of the Irish.
Tate O'Connor wins sixth Australian lawn bowls title, writes poem to celebrate.

Everything I know about life, I learned from 24...

2007-05-03T00:20:00.000+09:30

No matter where he is in the world, what his physical and mental condition is, how long it's been since he's eaten, or whether he's been ruthlessly tortured for a thousand days, Jack Bauer will succeed in twenty-four hours where thousands of the most highly-trained, technology-savvy counter-terrorist experts will fail.
The day that terrorists get their hands on working nuclear weapons is the same day that other terrorists plan a biological strike, a war begins, the President of the United States is shot or blown up, the cabinet attempts a coup, and every single member of America's counter-terrorist units suffers some irremediable personal crisis.
Nothing worth worrying about will ever happen until you're within ten minutes of a new hour. You might as well take the other 50 minutes to sit down, drink some coffee and snack on some nachos. When it gets to about quarter to, then you can start panicking.
If something will take longer than a day to occur, it won't occur at all.
The good guys always pretend to switch to the other side, so they can undermine the enemy. No one has yet worked this out.
If you thought someone was dead...they're not. And they'll pop up at the least opportune time.
Atomic attacks inevitably lead to workplace relationships. Never fail.
If your daughter sneaks out of the house, chances are she's unwittingly embroiled in an attempt to undermine your country.
It doesn't matter what hell you've been through -- you can be punched, kicked, shot, forcibly castrated, even kneecapped -- you will still manage to get through a whole day without ever looking tired. As long as your last name is Bauer, or something suitably terrorist-sounding.
If your name is Palmer, never go outside. Ever.
Behind every great man is a close friend who will kill him at the first opportunity.
It isn't necessary to refer to a nation by name. People will instinctively know where you're talking about.

More hypotheticals? You bet!

2007-05-02T17:14:00.000+09:30

In light of my recent post about the gun lobby in America, I decided that one figurative story is never enough...

Imagine a shipyard. The company that operates it is a big contractor to governments from around the world; it builds submarines for many navies, and develops computer systems, combat systems and so on. Anyhow, the company, which, for the sake of this story, we shall call United Labor Systems, is in competition with another company, known as National Liberal Seapower Pty. Ltd., for a multi-billion dollar contract for the Royal Australian Navy--National Liberal is proposing that the Navy continue with its tried and tested but updated John Winston-class submarine which, though nearing the end of its expected lifetime in service, offers stability, flexibility, and familiarity to the submariners of the RAN. In the meantime, United Labor has designed a brand new, radical Kevin Michael-class vessel which, according to United Labor's design brief, will revolutionise naval warfare, likely at the cost of more traditional methods. The radical differences between the traditional John Winston and the more modern Kevin Michael will be hard for submariners to get used to, but United Labor believe that their boat is best for the country.
Two days before the head of the RAN was to visit United Labor, in order to hear their marketing spiel for the Kevin Michael, United Labor's Accounting (Southern) Division received a phone call. The Southern division's chief accountant, Kevin O'Foley, answered.
"Kevin, it's Keith", came the voice on the other end of the line. O'Foley immediately realised the honour he was being given, for the man on the phone was none other than Keith Rodd, CEO of United Labor Systems.
"Sir, what can I do for you?", asked the gob-smacked but somewhat smarmy O'Foley.
There was a click.
"We have a problem", Rodd told him. "You know that the entire admiralty will be coming on Sunday so that we can give them our sales pitch for the Kevin Michael?"
O'Foley knew that indeed. Rodd continued.
"Our problem is that we have no one who can do the presentation."
O'Foley frowned.
"What about Julie?", he asked. Julie Gizzard was the Vice-President of the corporation.
"She can't do it, Kev. She made a hash of a press conference recently. Besides, between you and me, her voice really pisses me off."
"Mike?" Mike Renn was the head of the entire Southern division of United Labor, a man with an almost perfect track record, a purported love of football and an ego the size of Alpha Centauri.
"No, Mike's on the outer for this. He's under fire for allowing that new tramline to be built between our factories. People in the south are complaining, and the admiralty don't really know him. You should understand that, Kev."
"Sorry." O'Foley thought for a moment. Then a smile slowly crept across his lips.
"I've got just the person!"
"Who? One of our top engineers? Our press secretary?"
"Nope", said O'Foley. "But don't worry. She'll be perfect."

When the various admirals from the Navy arrived at the United Labor shipyards, they were met by a woman with a vacuous smile and head to match, who insisted that, once she had spoken to them, they would definitely be buying the Kevin Michael.
"My name is Nancy Korns", she told the men from the Navy. "And I can guarantee you that the Kevin Michael is the best submarine since...um...that one from that book. You know..."
"Nautilus?", Admiral Mayo suggested. He came from the hills around Adelaide, and as the new submarines were to be based in South Australia, the majority of the men at the conference were naval men from that state. "Jules Verne's creation?"
Korns grinned.
"Nooo", she said slowly, as if lecturing a schoolboy. "The Kevin Michael is built by Mr Rodd, who is a wonderful, wonderful man."
"No, I meant the book", Mayo told her.
"What book?"
A sigh. "Never mind."
"The Kevin Michael is a great boat", Korns continued. "United Labor is very proud of what we've created."
"You were involved in the design?", Vice-Admiral Hindmarsh supposed.
"Er...no."
"The construction, then?"
"No."
"What was your involvement, Mrs Korns?"
A sheepish smile.
"I'm the wife of the factory's football team's coach."
Mumbling from the congregation, but Commodore Boothby raised his hand.
"Please, chaps, let's allow Mrs Korns to answer some questions", he suggested. "Just because she wasn't directly involved, doesn't mean to say that she knows nothing about the submarine."
Korns nodded.
"As long as they're not hard questions."
Commodore Boothby continued.
"Mrs Korns, what type of drive does the Kevin Michael have?"
"Oh, we're all very motivated here."
Boothby shook his head.
"No, I mean, the power behind the submarine. What sort of power plant? What power does it generate?"
Korns frowned.
"I don't know much about that", she admitted.
"How about sensor equipment?", Admiral Mayo asked. "Communications? Computer systems?"
"I haven't read anything about that."
"Weaponry and defensive systems?", Hindmarsh pressed on.
"I asked you not to ask any difficult questions", Korns blubbered, close to tears.

As the naval men left United Labor that day, Commodore Boothby turned back to a wet-cheeked Nancy Korns.
"Mrs Korns, what qualifications do you have to try and sell us a submarine?", he inquired.
At this, Korns smiled.
"Why, I'm a mother, and I'm at university. I've almost finished my degree!"

It's like Billy Connolly once said. If you wanted to build an ocean liner, you wouldn't ask a marshmallow-maker. Why on Earth did Labor think it was a good idea to recruit Nicole Cornes to contest Boothby against the ascendant Christopher Pyne at the Federal election? As she proved conclusively, she knows next to naught about politics, has not even bothered to look at Labor's manifesto. This is another reason why Kevin Rudd will lose the election. The first reason is Kevin Rudd.

Logic and the American Dream

2007-04-23T16:40:00.001+09:30

Once upon a time, a small village was terrorised by an outcast named Amadeus H. who, at night, would release a wild bear that he had captured out into the streets. So many people were attacked by the bear that, one day, the village council met in the main square. One of the wise elders, a man who, for our sake, we shall call Didimus Q., stood among his peers.
"My friends", he said in his unflinching, rumbling baritone. "For too long we have become slaves to our fears. We have been prisoners in our own homes, because of a dangerous animal that has the ability to dismember and slay us. To this I say, this long, but no longer! We shall no longer be fearful of our own streets! Today, I urge us to pass a new law that states that the possession of wild animals must be restricted. When the bear threat has passed, we will again feel safe and free in our own town."
"Didimus, you are full of it", replied the cantankerous Quintus D., who bore a striking resemblance to Charlton Heston. "Don't you see? If you ban bears from our streets, how can we protect ourselves from bears in our streets?"
Didimus Q. made to answer, but Quintus D. had brought his entire family to the meeting, most of whom were inbred, and they shouted for the statesman to take his seat and remain silent. Quintus continued.
"No, what we need is the ability to have whatever animals we like, for our own protection! And not just at night time. When our sick and frail must visit the apothecary, they should bring a rabid wolf with them. When our children attend their lessons, they must also be protected. Would you not feel better, Didimus, in the knowledge that your son Pontus was learning grammar, while protected by a wild boar with tusks sharpened like lances?"
Didimus said no. Quintus scoffed.
"Did you hear that, my friends?", he yelled vicariously. "Didimus Q., a self-proclaimed leader of our community, does not even have the fortitude to protect his own child, let alone yours, or mine! To this I say, for shame!"
Didimus shook his head sadly, as the other townsfolk glared at him. By the time of the ballot, he knew he had lost. The very next day, Quintus D. trapped a black bear, a wild pig, and a snarling, mangy mountain lion, and kept them tied in his house. The other people of the town followed suit.
A few months later, an expedition from the closest village arrived to determine why they had not heard from their neighbours for quite some time. All they found were some tumbledown houses in a state of ramshackle disrepair, and animals roaming freely around what was left of the village. Of Quintus D., Didimus Q. and their fellow townsfolk, nothing was ever found...

To the pro-gun lobby of the United States of America: the massacre at Virginia Tech was a profound tragedy, a terrible and gut-wrenching event. But the answer is not to arm everyone with weapons, in the belief that, if the bad guy pulls out a piece, the good guys can gun him down first. The better option is to restrict any opportunity the bad guy has of getting a weapon in the first place. That, my friends, is called restriction. It worked in Australia. It can work in the States. And that, my friends, is called common sense. Something the lot of you seem to need an injection of.

Spot the difference, AFL style

2007-04-20T20:27:00.001+09:30

I want you to look at two pictures very closely. And I want you to tell me which is which:

One is your standard six year-old girl. The other is (or is commonly mistaken for) a prostitute.

Time's up, hand up your answers, please. And if your name is Adam Selwood, then you answered that the top one is the hooker.

Once again, the AFL astounds me. And not in a good way. Last weekend, West Coast Eagles player Adam Selwood got into a bit of a biff with Fremantle Docker Des Headland. The reason for this on-field brawl was pretty understandable, really. According to Headland, Selwood called the Docker's daughter, Madisan, a "slut", and told Headland that he "fucked her last night." This becomes even worse when you realise that Madisan Headland is six years old.

Both players ended up before the AFL tribunal, Selwood on the charge of using indecent and offensive language, Headland for striking and wrestling with Selwood. Selwood argued that he had seen the face of a girl tattooed on Headland's arm, and had made the comment that he "fucked a slut like her last night". Headland then turned around and told him "That's my daughter. No one talks about my family like that", before belting the tosh out of the Eagle. Headland, on the other hand, argued that Selwood had said that, Headland warned him that he was talking about his six year-old daughter, and Selwood replied "Yeah, she's a slut and I fucked her." Then Headland belted the tosh out of him. The AFL decided that it was a case of he said-he said, and found Selwood not guilty. Then they found Headland guilty of striking, but with mitigating circumstances.

Okay, here is my problem. If Headland's story is right, then Selwood is a bastard. Who the hell talks about a six year-old girl being a sex object, other than sick weirdos and paedophiles? And maybe men who work at Supre, but they come under those categories. Besides, if I were in Headland's shoes, and someone said that about my daughter, then I'd flatten them too. Ergo, Selwood is guilty, and Headland, though bashing him, was provoked into doing so. Of course, it doesn't look great to the kids watching football that one of their role models decided to give his opponent a bunch of fives because he got some lip, but come on. It's his daughter he's talking about. Cut the guy some slack.
If, however, Selwood is right in his recollection, then...well, Selwood is still a bastard, and Headland is guilty only of delivering a line that sounds like it's from a bad Steven Seagal film. Let's think through this logically:

Headland has a girl's face tattooed on his arm.
You don't usually tattoo someone's face on your arm in detail unless they're close to you, or you're a stalker.
Therefore, the person tattooed on Des Headland's arm is probably someone close to him.
Additionally, she looks young.
Des Headland has a daughter.
Therefore, the girl is probably Des Headland's daughter.

As our little thought experiment earlier in this post shows, six year-olds look very different from prostitutes (or at least from media whores). So it's pretty unlikely that Selwood could look at a child's face and immediately think slut, unless he is a pervert. Selwood argues that he didn't realise the girl was Headland's daughter. Okay, so we'll assume that he's a complete moron and cannot tell that a six year-old is under the age of consent. The fact remains that Des Headland tattooed someone on to his arm, and that Adam Selwood called that person a slut and said he'd had sex with her the night before. Let's accept for one moment that Selwood didn't realise it was Headland's daughter. Then who else would be tattooed on his arm? His wife or girlfriend? (Not following footballers has the disadvantage that I don't know if this guy is married) Perhaps even his sister or mother if they are/were close? Either way, Selwood would then have called Headland's wife/girlfriend/sibling/mother an offensive name. And saying that he fucked her wouldn't have helped. How is this any better? What sort of defence is this? "Sorry mate, I didn't realise it was your daughter or I wouldn't have said I fucked her. I thought it was your wife." Isn't this also offensive and inappropriate language to be using? So how in the name of buggery (which Selwood may also be guilty of) did he get off scot-free at the tribunal? But it gets better! Now he's pursuing legal action, because he says he's been "defamed". I'm sorry, but if anyone has defamed Adam Selwood, it's Adam Selwood. And if he can't tell the difference between a six year-old and a girl of consenting age, I'd be right next to Des Headland Snr. when he goes on national radio and calls Selwood a "paedophile." A word of advice to the Eagle: the best thing you can do right now is shut the hell up.

As an aside, if the AFL thinks that Selwood's words weren't enough to warrant a suspension, why was Headland's striking charge dismissed for "mitigating circumstances"? If Selwood didn't say anything offensive, then nothing mitigated anything, did it?

Yet more proof of inverse darwinism, I believe. Especially when you consider the many hundreds of thousands of dollars that Adam Selwood gets payed to act like a dickhead.

Hey Adam, spot the difference:

Some random facts for consideration

2007-04-17T16:42:00.000+09:30

The longest war in history was the Three Hundred and Thirty-Five Years' War, between the Scilly Isles (off the coast of Britain) and the Netherlands. War was declared on the English Royallist naval forces in Scilly by Admiral Maarten Tromp of the Netherlands during the English Civil War, when the Netherlands sought an alliance with Cromwell's Parliamentarians, and the Royal Navy turned to piracy against the Dutch. War was declared in April 1650, but soon after, the Dutch forgot about their declaration of war. A peace treaty was only signed in April 1986.

The shortest war in history was the Anglo-Zanzibar War. The war was fought between the troops of Sultan Khalid bin Bargash, and a flotilla of Royal Navy vessels. War was effectively declared when the Royal Navy opened fire at 09.00 on 27 August 1896, and was concluded in victory for the British forty-five minutes later, at 09.45.

No one can divide by zero. Except Chuck Norris.

Karaoke means "empty orchestra" in Japanese.

In the United States, it is estimated that 45% of all dollar notes have, at some point or other, been stuffed into a stripper's g-string.

You are far more likely to be attacked by a cow than a shark.

The dot on top of the lowercase letter i is known as a "tittle".

After an interview in Los Angeles one day, Arnold Schwarzenegger was escorted to his limo by a security guard, who casually mentioned that he was studying business. Schwarzenegger, a millionaire (and minor real estate mogul) by his early twenties, offered the young man a word of advice: "You should sell dildos," he suggested. "People buy them for presents - they like to be funny at parties. They really sell."

Chuck Norris was originally cast as the main character in 24, but was replaced by the producers when he managed to kill all the terrorists and in twelve and a half minutes.

The only ship ever sunk by a nuclear-powered submarine was the Argentine cruiser General Belgrano, sunk by HM Submarine Conqueror during the Falklands War. At the time, the Belgrano was sailing away from the Falklands. Moreover, in delicious irony, the Belgrano was formerly the American cruiser USS Phoenix, which had survived the Japanese air strike on Pearl Harbor in the Second World War. The Conqueror did not fire modern Mark 24 torpedoes, but rather the much older, but more reliable, Mark 8 weapons -- surplus from the Second World War.

The last America's Cup sailing trophy was won by the yacht Alinghi, from Switzerland. This gave Switzerland the right to host the next America's Cup competition. Switzerland does not have a coastline. Instead, the Swiss chose the waters off Valencia, Spain, for the venue of the Louis Vuitton Cup, the qualifiers for the America's Cup, due to the extremely reliable wind conditions. The first race of the Louis Vuitton Cup was cancelled on 17 April 2007, due to lack of wind.

Chuck Norris once visited the Virgin Islands. They are now called the Islands.

"If there is an exception to every rule, then every rule must have at least one exception, excepting this one"

2007-04-16T21:27:00.001+09:30

Last night, the revamped Blue Devils, now the White Ninjas, took on our old arch-nemeses, the QCs, in our first round match on Court 3, Unley. It was a thrilling match, with good, powerful play, and much better teamwork than we've shown before (well, I think so anyway). The final score was 12-8 in our favour, with Pat and I both scoring four goals, making up for separate defensive blunders that resulted in the opposition scoring. Raf scored 2 in a blistering game, Khang was impressive in the middle and up front, coming away with one for his troubles, and Denley scored one that really should've been TomG's...except Den decided to slide in and get a boot on the ball right on the line. Nice. Otherwise, Thuc and Simon were both excellent in their keeping, Jacob was everywhere (as usual), and Tom played a good solid game. For the other team, kudos to Sarah for her hat-trick. Let's hope this is what the rest of the season will be like...

Here's some problems for you to mull over:

In Seville, there is only one barber, and everyone in the town is clean-shaven. The barber shaves every man who does not shave himself. Does the barber shave himself?

Sir Francis Drake's ship Golden Hind is in a museum, but, being made of wood, it is prone to rot. If we remove one rotten plank and replace it with a new plank, the ship is still the original. If we remove two planks and replace them, the ship is still the original. Now, if we remove all the planks, one at a time, because all of them have rotted, is the ship in the museum the Golden Hind? Now, if we take all of the planks of wood that had rotted, and used them to construct a ship with exactly the same specifications and dimensions as the Golden Hind, are there now two Golden Hinds? Or is there one, and one replica? Which is the replica?

Many books contain pages with no content other than the appellation THIS PAGE IS INTENTIONALLY BLANK. However, this negates the blankness of the page. Thus, if the page was intended to be blank, did the author fail in their intentions?

Let us assume that all ravens are black. Alternatively, we could use the equivalent statement and say that all non-black things are non-ravens. Look at a flock of ten ravens. If they are all black, the it significantly bolsters our theory that all ravens are black. Now look at ten red apples. Since red is not black, the apples are non-black things. Therefore, because the statements are equivalent, we are even more sure that all ravens are black.

A student of law (Angus? Emilie? Someone else perhaps?) cannot pay their tutor for their lessons, but promises that when they win their first case, they will pay the tutor. A while after the student's graduation, it becomes clear that they have had no clients, and therefore have not won a case. The tutor's patience wears thin, and they sue the former student. The tutor claims that if the student wins, then by their agreement the student will have to pay. If the student loses, then they will still have to pay. The student argues that if he wins, then the court will have voided the original agreement, and thus he does not have to pay. If, however, he loses, he will still not have to pay, as he has not yet won a case. Who is right?

If truth does not exist, and I were to say "truth does not exist", then that statement is the truth, and therefore, false, because then truth does exist.

If an irresistible force meets an immovable object, is the force resisted, or does the object move?

What was the tallest mountain in the world before Mount Everest was discovered? Of course, it was Mount Everest. Therefore, it would have been perfectly true, at a time when Mount Everest was unknown, to say that an undiscovered mountain was the tallest mountain in the world. While this was true, it was not knowable. Therefore, can we know truth?

An argument is valid if and only if there is no situation in which the premises are true but the conclusion is false. For example, I could say that, if it is raining, water exists. It is raining. Water exists. This is valid. However, I could also say:
It is night.
It is day.
Eddie McGuire's head is a banana.
Surely, this is valid, because there is no situation where the premises (that it is night and day at the same time) are true, and thus no situation when both premises are true but the conclusion is false.

And if that hasn't messed with your head enough yet, watch 24. Damn it's good.

All about Wednesday

2007-03-28T16:07:00.000+09:30

Wednesday...a day of pedagogy and stupidity.

The day started with a drive up to Flinders University, to drop off Courtney so she could set up an Apache server and thus continue with her Database assignment. Having turned off Sturt Road and on to University Drive, we discovered that the Flinders University road system had been designed by Jackson Pollock in his heyday. Here is a roadmap of the Flinders campus:

It was lucky that I have an innate sense of direction, else it would've become very easy to get lost...

Gladly I soon returned to civilisation.

Today I had my second History tute. Yes, I am well aware that this is Week Five. But this is evidently how History is planned:
WEEK ONE: No tute (sleep in)
WEEK TWO: Admin tute (sleep during tute)
WEEK THREE: Lecturer in New York City; no tute (sleep in)
WEEK FOUR: Library tute (sleep)
WEEK FIVE: Actual tute (sleeping time is over)
During this tute, half of our class was away. Also, we had to explain to one girl for about five minutes that not being educated does not mean that someone is inherently unintelligent. We were looking into the question of why the Russian proletariat were not so fast to rally behind the banner of Marxism, and the conclusion was drawn that, as the Russian proletariat was, for the most part, uneducated, Marxist ideology was somewhat inaccessible to them. Which led this girl to believe that the Russian proletariat had smaller brains, and therefore were incapable of understanding Marx at all. Apparently, she also believes that children are unable to speak before they learn how to read.
It has astonished me how mindnumbingly daft some uni students are. In German History, someone tried desperately to convince us that the car was the most important mode of transport in 1800. Never mind that it hadn't yet been invented...
Furthermore, this charming argument occurred:
Lecturer: So, was Otto von Bismarck a monarchist or an anti-monarchist?
Us: Monarchist.
Girl: Anti-monarchist!
Lecturer: No, he was a monarchist.
Girl: No he wasn't! He hated the monarchy.
Lecturer: No...Bismarck was a conservative and was devoted to the imperial court of Prussia, and then Germany.
Girl: But he was a Kanzelthingy....
Lecturer: Yes, he was the Reichskanzler (Imperial Chancellor)
Girl: So he did all the stuff and was better than them and everything!
At this point, someone turned around and strangled her. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking...

After uni, mum asked me to go to town to pick up the new Simply Red album for her. Our good old friend Mick Hucknall is on the cover, contemplatively gazing out into empty blueness...again. It's a wonder he doesn't get bored, but with more bags under his eyes than a drunk who's fallen on to the luggage carousel at Tullamarine, maybe he can't tell. Evidently he hasn't been able to hold back the years as well as he'd hoped.

Apparently, Glendi and the Pan-Hellenic Games are being merged into one enormous Greekfest, which will most likely star Kadds and his entire family of six hundred. Lord Mayor Michael Harbison says that it will be a "Super-Event", but his advisers should have told him that "Fully Sick" was the appropriate adjective.

Marten and Dora finally got it on! OMG OMG OMG. (Damn you Tom, you've turned me into a Questionable Content addict! Bahahaha, Pintsize...)

Adelaide is again the quietest place on Earth. Bye, all you super law-giving crimefighters, as you return from whence you came. From India to Indiana, Russia to Rostok, and Queensland's Zidane wannabe...bye! And so the Adelaide crime figures skyrocket again.

Speaking of crime, I enjoyed reading about an Aboriginal youth who is allegedly part of the so-called "Gang of 49"--that is, forty-nine Aboriginal teens, men and women who are running amok in Adelaide. Our friendly neighbourhood criminal insists that the state government has invented the story about the gang, and that they've done nothing wrong. He then goes on to say that, yes, he has committed crimes (which contradicts the "done nothing wrong" claim), but only against property, not people. This idea intrigues me.
Cop: Bob Jones, give me one good reason why I shouldn't arrest you for stealing that geriatric old lady's handbag, before setting Mr Wallace's brush fence alight.
Jones: Because all those crimes are against objects, not people! The only victims are the handbag and the fence.
Cop: ...well, you've got me there. You're free to go.
What idiocy is this?! Surely, if you pinch something from someone, then that person becomes a victim. If you vandalise someone's car, house or anything else, then you have perpetrated a crime against them. If my dog peed on Joe Cool's Florsheim shoes, I am going to apologise to Joe Cool, not his shoes. This leads me to the conclusion that the only reason the youth says there is no such thing as a Gang of 49 is because he can't count, and therefore thinks there's only 42 of them.

Here, for all of you card-playing fans, is the abridged rules for the latest gambling craze to his Monte Carlo. Yes, it's KRAUKSPORT!

THE BLOWING UP SPACE GUIDE TO KRAUKSPORT

The game begins with four (4) players, each dealt with thirteen (13) cards, face down, their values and suits unseen by any player.
The first hand is played, with each player playing one (1) card, face up, on the table.
Ace is high, however, King begins with K, which also begins the word "Kraukus", therefore anyone who lays a King on the table automatically wins that hand. If anyone lays a Jack, which begins with J for "Jacob", then that player automatically loses. Otherwise, the win or loss is decided based upon the highest and lowest cards played; the player who lays the lowest card loses, and therefore collects all of the cards. The winner declares who will be designated the chier (pronounced "shee-ay", literally "shit"; if playing in an English-speaking venue, the term "shithead" is used). Then, the next hand is played.
After the first hand, if any hand played contains a card of a prime number, the chier collects the cards. Otherwise, the player with the lowest valued card collects the cards.
Additionally, if there is the case of double cards on the table, then the loser or the chier (depending on whether a prime has been played) is dealt another three (3) cards from each player's hand.
Whichever player finishes with the least amount of cards is declared the winner, or "cul" (unless in an English venue, in which eventuality the word "arse" or "ass" will suffice.)
Exception to rules:

if anyone named Jacob is playing KraukSport, that player loses the first hand and is automatically designated chier, regardless of the cards played in the first hand.
if anyone from the band Kraukus is playing KraukSport, that player is automatically designated "arse", though in this sense the designation does not necessarily denote that said player has won or will win the game.

Examples of KraukSport hands:

In this opening KraukSport hand, Denley clearly has the lowest card, and this would usually mean that he loses the hand. Edward Bear, however, has a Jack, and therefore loses the hand. Lord Scotland, with the highest card, can thus designate who will be the chier for the game; in this instance, Lord Scotland will choose Denley.

However, in the first hand of an earlier match, when Denley, Edward Bear and Lord Scotland played against Jacob, Edward Bear played the lowest card and thus should have lost the hand. However, as Jacob is playing, he loses the first hand instead, regardless of the fact that his card is the second highest played. Lord Scotland wins the first hand, but as Jacob is playing, he is automatically designated chier.

But back to the other game. In this hand, Lord Scotland has the lowest card, and as no primes have been played, he collects all four cards. However, Denley and Edward Bear both played sixes, and therefore, Edward Bear, Denley and Tate each deal a further three cards from their hand into the pile collected by Lord Scotland.

In this hand, Denley appears to have won with an ace. However, Edward Bear has a King, which denotes Kraukus, and therefore wins the hand. Tate has the lowest card, however it is a seven, which is a prime number. As Lord Scotland designated Denley as the chier for this game, by a quirk of fate, Denley has lost the hand and thus collects all four cards.

So endeth the lesson.

Before I forget, happy two month anniversary to Kel and Will (hasn't time absolutely flown?), one year (soon, or already gone?) to JAmes and Ali (many happy returns), and most importantly, happy 18 month anniversary to the lovely Courtney! How has she put up with me for so long? That will remain one of life's great mysteries...

Aiden returns

2007-03-19T17:23:00.000+10:30

My car is back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

VROOOM.

...but it's better if you don't (open your mouth)

2007-03-17T22:29:00.000+10:30

Remember a little while back when Pat posted about two Vicky Pollards on his bus? Today, I can probably say quite certainly that that has been bested. For today, sitting behind Courtney and I on the 172, was a 17 year old Quagmire, whose name was actually Pierce, and two 14 year olds who will likely soon be teen pregnancy statistics, and who, for anonymity's sake, I shall call "Mary-Kate" and "Ashley".
This is how the conversation began:
Pierce: So...can I have your phone numbers?
Mary-Kate: Yeah, sure! [gives phone number]
Ashley: Me too! Me too! [gives phone number]
Pierce: Cool...so what's your names?
Mary-Kate: I'm Mary-Kate, and she's Ashley. *giggle*
Pierce: Nice...do you girls still go to school?
Ashley: I go to Golden Grove, and Mary-Kate goes to MacKillop.
Pierce: Awesome...how old are you?
Mary-Kate: Fourteen.
Ashley: Yeah, we're in Year 9. How old are you?
Pierce: I'm 17...yeah. What are you up to tonight?
Mary-Kate: Um...I'll be home. Alone.
Pierce: Want me to text you?

And it went downhill from there. Pierce relentlessly hit on the clueless Year 9s, while the clueless Year 9s tried desperately to seem cool. Some gems picked up were...

Ashley: So, you're turning 18 this year?
Pierce: Yeah, in three months.
Ashley: Wow, four months! You'll have your ID and everything!
Pierce: Nah, then I'll be able to drink legally...takes the fun out of it, you know?
Mary-Kate: Yeah...

Mary-Kate: So you're at uni?
Pierce: Yeah, I'm doing a shitty course so I can get into a good one next year.
Mary-Kate: What's that?
Pierce: Bachelor of Science and Environmental Management. Do you know what that is?
Ashley: *giggle* Nah!
Mary-Kate: Do you love trees??
Pierce: Yeah, it's saving the environment.
Mary-Kate: Wow, that's heaps cool. So, like, are you, like, really smart?
Pierce: Oh yeah, I just went to the wrong school.

Pierce: So where are you from?
Ashley: I'm Australian.
Mary-Kate: Yeah, me too. Except I'm a bit from Wales.
Ashley: What's that?
Mary-Kate: ...the country.
Ashley: ...oh. So you're Welshian?

Ashley: That means you're mum's from Wales too!
Mary-Kate: I'm only half-Welsh!
Pierce: So where's your dad from?
Mary-Kate: Australia.

Pierce: You want stop 7, right? This is stop 6. You want the next one.
Ashley: Oh yeah.
...
...
Pierce: You have to press the button.
Mary-Kate: Oh yeah! *giggle*

Also, for those who didn't know, the World Police and Fire Games are on in Adelaide at the moment. And it is for this reason that dumb crims are out in force. Last night, an Aboriginal man knocked another man off his bike in Victoria Square, and stole his wallet, in full view of two SA Police officers. They yelled for him to stop, so the thief took off around the corner...running slap bang into the Indianapolis PD team. I guess it just wasn't his night...

Started and unfinished

2007-03-12T21:53:00.000+10:30

I figured a while back that I might try my hand at character-building. Of course, that usually means of oneself, and I mean of some one who doesn't really exist. I call it Kids-These-Days, and I never finished it.

A Fall Out Boy CD, blasting the thin coat of grimy dust off the scratchy grille of the stereo speakers.
An empty coffee cup, still smelling faintly of vanilla latte, its former contents spattered on an unfinished essay, sharing space on the ink-stained desk with a half-empty bottle of flat Coke and a battered Red Bull can.
Half-eaten, microwaved macaroni and cheese, long since cold and congealed, the warped plastic container teetering haphazardly on a pile of rarely listened-to CDs.
Draped over the computer chair as if hurriedly tossed there after wearing, a pair of black pinstripe Mooks shorts, their fibres insidiously impregnated with the incriminating stench of marijuana smoke, though he seldom lit up.
He supposed that the still-life of his work desk could accurately describe his very being, in four sentences: the requirement to be rebellious, but not unpopular. The requirement to stay awake to meet study deadlines, but not all of them. The requirement to eat, but not too healthily and not too much. The requirement to escape, but not too often.
He was, he decided, the picture of moderation, so understandable and yet so misunderstood; the curse of the generation.
His pair of grey denim Converse All-Stars, well worn and threadbare, lay by the foot of the desk. Black, permanent marker adorned the now off-white lining. When he had bought the shoes, he had seen some of his friends write self-formulated poetry on their pairs. He had thought it the epitome of stereotypical teenage angst, but eventually succumbed to peer pressure, writing instead two lines of lyrics from a My Chemical Romance tune on each side of each shoe.

He was representative of a generation of teenagers for whom definitions didn’t apply. He described himself and his musical taste as “emo punk”, a categorisation which confounded his parents, who assumed that an emo was in some way related to an emu, and a punk was an obnoxious and violent gang member with a bright green Mohawk and safety pins sprouting from various orifices. None seemed to suit him at all, but with his mostly black attire and jet-dyed hair, they worried that he might be a Goth—again, another concept wholly foreign to them, and only vaguely known as being a “death cult”, wherein all members dressed in black and were, for reasons unknown, suicidal. They would relate these fears to other parents and friends at social functions, and the response was usually the same: a tut-tut, shaking of the head, and attributing it to ‘Kids-These-Days’, as if it was a contagious and short-lived virus that altered teens’ wardrobes and gave them all a death wish. Not that he had any will to die, which he told them regularly, but the answer would always be the way the conversation began: “Now you know you can talk to us about anything, don’t you, dear?”
Sometimes, he wondered, just for fun, how long it would take them to freak if he said that he actually did want to kill himself.
Six seconds seemed about right.

He could write. There was no denying that. His prose encapsulated the dramatically devastating fatalism of Murakami, the vitality of Garcia Marquez, the flair of Swift. His poetry was eclectic and chaotic, somewhere between Cummings and Pound, always having an impact, always enticing the reader to search between the stanzas, looking for the meaning that may or may not be there. His university lecturers praised him for his inventiveness. His parents told him to work harder, while at the same time both applauding and castigating him in public, depending on the audience. The same parental friends who sympathised with them for his being such a wayward youth would be told how disappointing it was for him to be throwing his life away on such useless pursuits, when he could’ve studied to become a doctor or an attorney. To others, they wore his success like a badge of honour, happily proclaiming that he would be the next Truman Capote or Jack London. The former would again offer condolences, again shake their heads and blame the Kids-These-Days Syndrome, and reassure them that it was by no means their fault that their son would be a failure; they had been exemplary parents, and it was his fault for turning his back upon the opportunities afforded him. The latter would congratulate them with platitudes of how marvellous a pair they must be as parents, for raising such a creative young man. He supposed they merely enjoyed the attention, as well as being told how wonderful they were, be it in spite of or because of their son’s creative flair. He didn’t really care; he had long passed the stage where he sought his parents’ approval and acclaim.

The lush, green plains around the pyramids

2007-03-12T17:25:00.000+10:30

According to a Muslim cleric, we're in a drought because Australia is a land of non-believers.

Sheikh Mohammed Omran reckons that, according to The Advertiser, "out-of-control secular scientific values had caused environmental disaster", and that since "the fear of Allah is not there...we now have a polluted earth, a polluted water, a wasteland." Our lack of rainfall is, of course, due to the majority of Australia not being Muslim.

I would thus like the sheikh to explain the Middle East. Come on, think of Islamic countries...Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Iraq, Iran...there are plenty more, but considering that most of these countries are stuck in what essentially is a region of desert, is Omran saying that the Prophet himself and his devout followers aren't devoted enough?

Think about it.

UNDERPANTS NINJA!!!

2007-03-06T23:51:00.000+10:30

What is it about Russia that makes it the madhouse of the universe?

I'm not kidding. This is the country that came up with Tolstoy and Ivan the Terrible, Solzhenitzyn and Stalin. It has given the world the miracles of art, architecture and anarchy. And, of course, vodka, which counts both as art and anarchy. I remember back in the late 1990s when it was revealed that the Russian Navy was paying its enlisted crewmen on nuclear submarines not with rubles, but with vodka. Can you imagine anything worse to give to someone in charge of ballistic missiles than half a litre of fermented potato juice? Probably not. It's like giving an Apache helicopter pilot a snout load of cocaine and then telling him to fly over Los Angeles. But this sort of craziness is not limited to the present day.

Back in the days of the Russian Civil War, the Reds looked to be fair beaten. The Whites (that is, those former tsarist army officers who sided against the Bolsheviks), marching through the Ukraine and Siberia, knew the following things:

the people in the towns and cities in the Ukraine and Siberia were scared of the Bolsheviks.
the same people were looking forward to the Whites conquering their towns, as the Whites weren't Reds.
controlling the loyalties of the people was vital for winning the civil war.

So the Whites came up with the perfect solution. That solution was twofold:

rob anything of value in the towns that they marched into.
shoot the Jews.

And so it came to pass that the Whites massacred the people who liked them. Clever, hey?

And now Russia's in the news again, for creating a nuclear missile that Vladimir Putin says cannot be defeated by any anti-missile system known to man. When asked about it, he said that he wasn't keeping secrets. After all, he'd briefed the French on it two years ago.

Somehow, briefing the French on anything to do with the military seems a useless endeavour to me...

The Oddvertiser: Special Report: Murder At Ladies Beach!

2007-02-24T23:52:00.001+10:30

In following the shocking and baffling mystery surrounding murdered schoolgirl Carly Ryan, I have found the reaction of the media equally as shocking and baffling. So here's a special report from our man in the field:

MURDER AT LADIES BEACH SPARKS CALLS FOR CURFEW, PRISON FOR EMOS
A special report from someone who should have their accreditation revoked.

Troubled, sex-crazy, torture-loving, death-centric drug addicted murder victim Carly Ryan was the member of a neo-satanic death cult known as "emos", The Oddvertiser can exclusively reveal.
In a sterling display of investigative journalism, involving shoving tape recorders up the noses of Carly's grieving classmates, intercepting any teachers and demanding to know "the truth", illegally photographing private property and taking pictures of any girls who had black hair, we have discovered that "emos", which stands for "emotional hardcore", are a threat to the Australian way of life.
Carly was killed earlier in the week, having been seen in Port Elliot with three unknown men. The two men were seen on the beach with Carly. Later, the three men were observed near stairs on the beach, which is known as "Ladies Beach", even though few people actually call it that. How the three men became two men and then three again is quite confusing, and this news story should reflect this.
It is believed that Carly's mySpace weblog may have, in some unfathomable way that we do not see fit to comment on, led to her death. On the mySpace, which background colour, ominously, is black, Carly indicated that she enjoyed sex, drugs, smoking, drinking, and music. Moreover, Carly posted many dark and disturbing images, including a woman ramming a crucifix down her throat, another injecting herself, and a photograph of someone riding a horse, which clearly indicates Carly's predilection for torture and death.
When contacted by The Oddvertiser, Mitcham Girls' School declined to comment, which clearly indicates that they are hiding something, most likely the fact that their teaching fraternity is breeding a corps of death-obsessed Columbine Massacre wannabes, and that the school has instigated its own conspiracy of silence.
When contacted by The Oddvertiser, Carly's family declined to comment, which clearly indicates that they are grieving the loss of their daughter, who was so obviously corrupted by the school. Certainly, it cannot be expected that parents should have any sort of responsibility or duty of care over their children.
To identify those of the emo subculture, The Oddvertiser has compiled a handy listing guide of characteristics:
Your child is emo if they have any or all of the following characteristics:

black hair
eyeliner or nail polish
an interest in any non-mainstream art
a like of music newer than that of Peter & Gordon or Gerry & The Pacemakers, especially involving words stronger than "drat" or "dang".
bisexuality or possible latent interest in the same sex
a mySpace account
student status in any school
any friends who show the above characteristics

Parents who discover these characteristics in their own children are advised to be alert but not alarmed, but to be aware of the very real danger that their children may be plotting to murder them, to commit suicide, or may be the target of a deranged serial killer. Parents are advised to enter any emo suspects into a psychiatric institution, and to apply for a firearms licence, just in case.
Carly Ryan's tragic death could so easily have been avoided if she wore a pinafore and a chastity belt, and listened to Simon & Garfunkel.

-from our own correspondent

[please note: anyone who gets the wrong end of the stick about this should be advised that I am not lampooning Carly Ryan's death, but rather the odious media circus surrounding it.]

Just a thought...

2007-02-15T15:07:00.001+10:30

If the kiwi is a flightless bird, why is it the logo of the Royal New Zealand Air Force?

Just because I had some time to kill...

2007-02-12T15:57:00.001+10:30

It's me, eh! The Coke is a nice touch, as is the zonked, caffeinated expression =P

What are the chances of a man with a name reminiscent of a certain Saudi getting into Pennsylvania Avenue residence?

Poor little pixie Kevin...

I wonder what happened to the reject leader...

Sorry, Den... =P

More scams? Computer says yes

2007-02-10T23:48:00.001+10:30

Remember the famous Miller & Morgans scam I introduced you to a few months back? Well, scam artists have become even smarter. At least, I think so...

Here's the deal:
I went on to the CareerOne website, looking to apply for some jobs. One of them came up as being a secretary at "a busy Adelaide real estate office". Interested, I applied to the person listed on there, "Elena".
The reply came quickly, though not quite as expected:

Hello.
I got your resume from the job-site.
My name is Elena Marieva. I'm the main manager of Rosstroi Ltd. located in Novorossijsk.
We need representative in your state. Our contractors are doing different work for Australia companies, but have problems with getting the money, because our sponsors agree to pay only with the incountry bank wire transfers. So we need a person, 18+ years old, authorized to work in the Australia, who will receive the payments from our sponsors by wire transfers and transfer to our company with western union cash transfer for example. We agree to pay you 10% for each transfer + all the fees connected with the transfers. Please, e-mail me if you agree to work for us and I'll e-mail you our requirements.
Elena Marieva
Rosstroi Ltd.

Now, this may be above the board...but somehow I think not. Receive payments from "sponsors", wire them through to Rosstroi, and then I'd get 10% of that money? Somehow that sounds a bit odd. Not to mention the fact that the company's name, Rosstroi, is an amalgamation of the names of two Star Trek characters, Admiral Bill Ross and Counsellor Deanna Troi. To check it out, I wikipediaed "Rosstroi", and discovered that "Rosstroi is the governmental agency for construction. It is the successor of Gosstroi, the Soviet agency." Something tells me that the Russian government is not interested in Adelaide real estate...

So, for all you prospective workers, I would suggest that Kirksulu...I mean, Rosstroi...isn't really for you!

The Blowing Up Space Guide To Adelaide

2007-01-30T13:38:00.000+10:30

For those unfamiliar with Adelaide, or just wanting to brush up a bit, here is my very own, 100% perfect, guide to our fair city.

Buffalo
The HMS Buffalo was a floating restaurant sent here by the British over 150 years ago. Discovered Glenelg, and turned it into a hell-hole.

Colonel Light
Had a vision for Adelaide. Was obviously blind in at least two eyes.

Twenty-minute city
The name given to a unique phenomenon peculiar to Adelaide, as twenty minutes is the average waiting time at the Rundle Mall JB Hi-Fi before the staff notice you are there to be served.

Redbacks
The Adelaide domestic competition cricket team. When deciding a name, the board wanted something that showcased our reputation and resilience, that would make the opposition tremble. So they named the team after a small and easily-squashed arachnid found mostly in toilets.

Electricity
Discovered many many many years ago, but if in Adelaide in summer, you travel back to an era before this discovery occurred.

Siberia
The name given by Flinders Uni students to a car park at their university, and a name given by Adelaide Uni students to Flinders in general.

Tram
Extensive public transport system that runs on a whopping ONE route every now and then. In the process of being extended 200 metres, leading to massive protests on a scale not seen since ex-Premier Olsen accidentally dented someone's car door.

Drivers
Trained in Iraq, then set loose in Wayville. Still think they're dodging IEDs.

Rundle Convergence
Adelaide's answer to a wad of chewing gum stuck to the pavement in Times Square, New York.

Thuc le Tat
Infamous terrorist-cum-torturer, rumoured to be a panther. It is this reason alone that she has been sanctioned on ads by Premier Mike Rann.

Mike Rann
New Zealander adopted by Australia because he became popular. Like Steve Irwin, with added politics and less khaki suits. And crocodiles.

Silver Balls
Giant metallic testicles. Adelaide's most recognisable monument.

Lleyton Hewitt
Acts as if he is the owner of said Silver Balls. If this is the case, then he thinks with them a fair bit.

Port Adelaide
Tombstone, Arizona.

Salisbury
Death Valley.

Church
A place where little boys go to sing in choirs, and Catholic priests go to have fun. Read into that what you will.

Woomera
Soon to be the headquarters for Virgin Galactic. Which means something will have to be built out there. Sometime.

Adelaide-Gawler Freeway
$200,000,000 over budget, and probably going to be as well patronised as Gawler actually is. Expect the government to add tolls to this motorway, and to raise that $200,000,000 by the year 6,901,200.

Conclusion
Adelaide is a city of what might have been. It might have been a city. But we're not actually sure what it turned out to be, and frankly, it scares us.

Federbear ftw!

2007-01-29T20:12:00.000+10:30

This is Roger Federer:

And this is Roger Federbear:

Both of them rock. And Federer just won his third Australian Open singles title. What's more, he did it without dropping one set. This was last done in any tournament by Bjorn Borg in the 1980s, and not at the Australian Open since Ken Rosewall in 1972.

Federer and Federbear rock my blog.

More newsworthy news

2007-01-19T09:00:00.000+10:30

The Advertiser has been a hotbed of information recently. Let's look at just some of the more bizarre stories being reported recently...

Opposition Leader Iain Evans calls for the sacking of SA Water Minister Michael Wright, who ran his home sprinklers all night, in defiance of his own water regulations.
Yes, this was a pretty stupid thing for our friend the minister to do. We are in the middle of a big drought and water shortage, although I wouldn't say, as that study group did, that it's the worst we've had in a thousand years, when we clearly do not have empirical evidence to support this claim. Even so, the situation is grim, and for Wright to leave his sprinklers on from 11pm on one night through to 6.15am the next morning is irresponsible, and forgetting to turn off his tap was pretty daft. Having said that, his neighbour, who took photographic evidence of this crime of the century at 23.00, 03.00 and 06.00, is even more to blame. What an idiot, he doesn't bother knocking on the Wright family front door to tell them that their sprinklers are on, he doesn't bother to turn off the tap himself. No, instead he gets up at all hours to photograph the water wastage, before calling SA Water to dob him in, and then the Advertiser, figuring he can make a penny out of the story. What a community-minded individual, or, as I prefer to call him, dickhead. Furthermore, Opposition Leader Evans is clearly grasping at straws here, although given that most people don't know who he is, I suppose he's trying to get noticed. He's helping his election chances even less than Wright is helping the Murray.

Matthew Newton's lawyer defends his client, who is facing domestic assault charges for allegedly roughing up girlfriend Brooke Satchwell, claiming that the charges are very minor, compared to the Iraq War.
Come again? I mean, I know lawyers like to play down things, but Chris Murphy's comments here are just a touch dumb. "Ninety people die in Iraq each day, most of them kids", says Newton's solicitor. "This is a very minor matter." This reasoning is priceless. I'm betting this guy will go far:

"My client might be charged with embezzling $10,000,000, but the cost of rebuilding New York after it was scarred on September 11th ran into the billions, maybe trillions. This is a pretty trivial matter."
"Yes, it is a rape charge. But in some Islamic countries they have honour killings. In comparison, this doesn't even bear consideration."
"My client is accused of murdering her husband, but between 1939 and 1945 up to eight million Jews died in concentration camps, so what's the big deal?"

I suggest to Bert Newton's son that he find a different representative, before this one digs him an even deeper hole. But then again, in the Katyn Forest Massacre, Polish prisoners were forced to dig their own graves before being shot, so I guess this isn't such a concern.

Federal Deputy Opposition Leader Julia Gillard says that being a mother is incompatible with the role of Prime Minister.
Ms Gillard never fails to astonish me, and not just because of her annoying accent and her support of Pixie Rudd. Now, the former Labor leadership candidate says that, as a mother with small children, she could not be PM.
Let me run that by you again. She wanted to be Opposition Leader, but not Prime Minister.
So, if she'd won the leadership of the Labor Party, is that like saying "I want to lead the Opposition, but I hope no one votes for me, or we'll win the election." And why does being a mother disqualify you from being the leader of the country? We've had fathers as our leaders, and in other countries too. And we should also remember Margaret Thatcher, Benazir Bhutto, Indira Gandhi, and now the US Senate leader, Nancy Pelosi.

Mothers complain about length of school holidays, saying that it leaves their children in their charge for too long.
All I can say to this is, pity the poor school teachers who need to put up with the snotty-nosed urchins for the rest of the year.
...actually, maybe this is the solution. Julia Gillard may become PM, and her first act could be extending the school year to 364 days, with one off for Christmas Day. Do I see Labor's master plan at work?

A criminal lawyer is arrested in the US after being found naked with a 14 year old girl in a courthouse meeting room.
This surely is one of the stupidest lawyers out there, save perhaps Matthew Newton's. He breaks the law, which he knows better than anyone, but to compound his lawbreaking, he perpetrates the act...in a court. How could he have made this worse? Stealing a policeman's wallet while in the patrol car? Pulling a water pistol on a jumpy American Marine named Bubba who just came back from Iraq? Streaking, wrapped only in a Croatian flag, at a Serbian soccer match?
...Angus, I know these are suggestions for a lawyer, but don't get any idea... =P

And that's a wrap for today!

A most peculiar...thing

2007-01-17T10:20:00.000+10:30

Trawling old news archives, and I find...

AFRICAN HUNT FOR STOLEN BOEING
The United States says it is working with African governments to try to find a stolen passenger jet that it fears may end up being used by terrorists.

White House spokesman Ari Fleischer admitted the US had few leads over who was behind the theft of the plane, from an airport in Angola last month, but was keen to gather any information available.

"We don't have any reliable assessments about what this portends, what it could be, who may be behind it. But it is an issue that is being worked on," he said.

His comments follow a report in the Washington Post newspaper on Wednesday that the Central Intelligence Agency and the State Department had joined a continent wide hunt for the aircraft.

The paper quoted American officials as saying that - in the worst case scenario - the plane could be used in an 11 September-style attack.

There is also concern about a missing US pilot who had been sent to Angola by a plane-leasing company in Florida.

The US authorities are said to believe he was at the controls when it left Luanda.

The family of the man, Benjamin Padilla, have told ABC News they thought he may have been kidnapped.

They said he only went to Angola to check if the plane was airworthy.

Angolan state radio said shortly after its disappearance that the jet had been chartered by an Angolan airline but was grounded after a number of irregularities.

The Boeing 727 took off from the Angolan capital on 25 May after being at the airport for 14 months.

When it started taxiing down the runway, the radio control tower tried to make contact with the pilot, but there was no response and nothing has been seen of the plane since.

Since then, US spy satellites have taken pictures of remote airstrips throughout Africa and US diplomats have been seeking the aircraft.

Plane's history

The South African aviation authorities say they have a sophisticated monitoring system and would know if the missing plane entered their airspace.

Originally owned by American Airlines, when the 727 was the world's best selling passenger jet, the plane was subsequently leased and subleased by a number of people and companies.

A company called Miami-based Aerospace Sales and Leasing Co. is reported to be its current owner.

African airports are littered with old planes that have proved too costly to maintain and keep in the air.

I have an important question. How on earth do you steal a plane?

I mean, it's one thing to take a street sign, a hammer, a girly magazine, even a car. But a jet airliner? Where do you take it? It's not like you can park it under your carport, tuck it into your bookcase, or hide it under your mattress. So where can you put it? Second of all, it is unlikely to be yours, because not all that many people have their own airliners. So what excuse do you use?
"There was a sale on at Bunnings..."
"I just found it lying by the road..."
"I'm just borrowing it..."
Something tells me these won't gel.
Finally, unlike a car, you're unlikely to strip it for its tyres or stereo. Unless you really need a Pratt & Whitney two-stage turbofan hung on your wall...

What's my point? I don't have one. But it's kinda bizarre...

Korean bathrooms?

2007-01-12T16:56:00.000+10:30

Bathroom signs in Korea:

The question is, having seen them, would you make it to the toilet, or would you wet yourself then and there?

All is Full of Love - Death Cab for Cutie

2007-01-12T15:20:00.000+10:30

You'll be given love
You'll be taken care of
You'll be given love
You have to trust it

Maybe not from the sources
You have poured yours
Maybe not from the direction
You are staring at

Twist your head around
It's all around you
All is full of love
All around you

(All is full of love)
You just ain't receiving
(All is full of love)
Your phone is off the hook
(All is full of love)
Your doors are all shut
(All is full of love)
In any language

All is full of love...

This is my blag

2007-01-04T10:33:00.000+10:30

Okay, so I promised there would be a link to xkcd on the sidebar, and behold, it was so, along with links to BMW Australia, Green Day and The All-American Rejects.

But speaking of xkcd, I thought I'd introduce you to my favourite comics from there. Of course, "Zeppelin", which I posted beforehand, is very cool, but here are some more to tickle your fancy.

(this one is so very true. Although I did also like a comic that suggested a merger between mySpace and PayPal, ie. you can buy friends! Which sounds like mySpace users anyway...)

Hehehe.

Last night I found the Bonsai Story Generator online. Basically, you feed it a few thousand words from stories, it finds patterns, then tries to mesh all the stories together using those patterns. For mine I used a fair few of my short stories. Some of its sentences and paragraphs make a weird, zen-like, surreal sorta sense...

The UniBar was what was what was more than him, with fascination as the eight-ball sank in the enemy armies and they’ll be here for the epic of the woods made the Galleon Squadron the flagship of the story.
For me, my eyes aflame with the boy who would be close friends; in terms of a man, standing off the Placidity Declaration, which led me to come back.

--

“No, actually. We had grown to take his diary: The admiral does seem to bear witness to ride a city. He can talk until well into the closer of the fleet, would remember it licked, if not materially and contemplated a high courtier to King Askagar from Erich.
"But so much a reaction to keep them and pounced, and breathed a Czech émigré who knew—thought they had matured swiftly since then, so much that consumed most enjoyable I program occasionally.” Coleman suggested.
“You should play a clear, cold January morning in C++.” Anthony, at a desk all the days of the general continued.
“Providing your army in the eighth year", Coleman chuckled.
“Good thing you’re not believe we will prevail.” The frigates merely accepted this beginning, other than the basic facts.

--

The relationship between two Germans who would suffer this way: at Northwest Bay, then in the HMS Erebus.
Several miles distant, Lord Highgate, his jewelled glass, before tasting his hand.
“Simon Anthony”, he sat down the Marauders.
Watching the Galleon Squadron.
As he manoeuvred around the table he said sharply.
“They should have been developed when he was only fitting for it licked, if we engage too early, I had been so much had happened since then, so that we engage too obvious reminders of the Dutch soldiers landing on the reason your army in my room."

--

Flames.
There was the American continent; he muttered.

--

It goes without saying that a slight wavering was and thinking it currently resided on the island, Fisher turned his claim on the landing.
They’d be chosen.
His Majesty’s frigates either in Stuttgart, sharing sandwiches with a handshake ...

-

His quarters were just bamboo staffs.

--

His sea charts showed the Nogura household.
“Aki, you have to get changed much since the internal combustion engine, according to ome."
Anthony’s concern, now, fell and almost certain that Tomalak, at the bottom of the seventeen year old girl, for the X-50 project was the old furniture factory, once every week.

--

“Captain, I wouldn’t like a good sir”, Fanshawe “We’ll close to within the captain’s head."
There was a couple of a young girl.
They had finished in bed.

--

He would make sure how I was reading philosophy, politics and break in Stuttgart, sharing sandwiches with the interesting nickname known only by dragging those points of history lost.

--

“Believe it, Captain”, Cole continued, oblivious to the first rays of

Germany

and it was not about computing.

--

Finally, and not quite so Zen, a little something of my own:

IF IT WEREN'T SO TRAGIC...

Well it seems you got the worst of it;
You can’t do that much wrong
When you’re tied against a pole.
They left you there for dead and you’d
Done nothing wrong at all.
It’s just a crying shame…

Well it’s true that weren’t the most of it;
They told us you were dangerous,
That they knew not what they did.
They said you’d brought it on yourself,
But you were just an honest kid,
It’s just a crying shame…

And they made you a symbol of life.
And I find that kinda funny, 'cause
They chose you at a glance.
They got off with their lives, yeah, but
You didn’t stand a chance.
It seems so damn unfair to me…

And now I bet they’re out there, laughing.
Thinkin’ if it weren’t so tragic
Then it must be hilarious.
Do you think they ever realised that
What they did was so damn serious?
I doubt it, between you and me…

(and no, before I get questions, that is not about Saddam Hussein)

Time waits for no gasbag

2007-01-03T17:21:00.000+10:30

xkcd will soon have a link in the sidebar. For now, this will do.

Third Gear moves into overdrive

2007-01-02T12:48:00.000+10:30

Merry New Year to all and sundry.

Here at Blowing Up Space, I figured it was time for the second episode of our car segment. So here it is, the much anticipated Third Gear!

Allow me to introduce you to my favourite Christmas present...

My brand-new, by which I mean second-hand, 1990-model BMW 318i (E30) two-door coupe. Automatic transmission, central locking, excellent stereo, RED, and all for under $5,000. This baby is the car that really launched the 3-Series into the popular range of cars it is today. Because, you see, that which you see above, spawned this:

Which in turn, spawned this:

Which means that this:

Is the granddaddy of this:

And the 3-Series has always been the series that made BMW. The 1-Series is a boppy little number, zipping around town between vanilla lattes, perfect for the iPod set (of which I am now one), primarily because it has its own docking station for your iPod. The 5-Series is like a Mitsubishi Evo that's been parked for too long in a stately home. It's rally chic, without the obnoxious roll cage, without the supreme nothingness and roughness that you find in most rally hybrids. If you went on the Mt Crawford rally in a 5-Series, you'd stop halfway through for a pot of tea.
The 7-Series is the ostentatious cousin, and you can bet that whoever has a 7-Series has a sauna, spa, and room for a pony, or else sold them in order to buy this beautiful machine. The 8-Series is just an enormous 7. The X-Series offroaders are most at home when driving the Beckhams around Madrid, London, New York or Paris, and the Z-Series roadsters are Bondmobiles, plain and simple. But it is the 3-Series that is the everyman workhorse of the fleet. To put it another way, the 1-Series is a glider, the 5-Series is a commuter plane, the 7-Series is a Learjet, the 8-Series is a your own private Concorde, the Xs are more like the Orient Express, the Zs are experimental rockets, but the 3s...the new 3s are more like the Panavia Tornado, and the old ones like an old Aermacchi; dependable, manoeuvrable, and fast. The 3-Series is a jet fighter with the wings chopped off.

2006 model BMW 3-Series.

Panavia Tornado.

1983 model BMW 318i.

Aermacchi MB-326.

So really, for our five thousand quid, we did a good job. Or so we thought.

What did they mean by "excellent stereo"? Well, by that they meant that it was the original one fitted to the car 17 years ago. Sod MP3s, the damn thing had a hard time remembering what a cassette tape was, and on top of that the last people to service the car managed to somehow blow out the speakers. Solution: a new stereo, with new speakers to boot. Result: kick-arse sound. Think of where the speakers are in the 350Z Roadster, and how much thumping quality they generate, and multiply by three. Thanks, Sony.

"Automatic transmission" was not a lie, but this also gave us an unexpected game. That is: Reattach The Gear Lever When You Accidentally Pull It Off. Not as bad as it sounds, but annoying nonetheless.

"Central locking"? Well, it's true that BMW had fitted the car with central locking. It was also true that, for reasons best known to themselves, the last people to service the car had wrenched out any way for the locking motors to actually...um...lock. All wires and connectors to the battery had been stripped out completely. So, we replaced the central locking. And now it does. Lock, I mean.

So what else could possibly go wrong? The muffler, for a start. When we first got the car, we thought that the exhaust pipe looked a bit rubbish, so we'd replace it with a stainless steel number. But on closer inspection, we discovered that the reason the exhaust pipe looked rubbish is because it is rubbish. And so is the muffler it's attached to. In fact, it is so rusted out that it needs replacing. But how did we not notice this in the first place? Seems our trusty car salesman had used muffler putty to stop up all the holes, then painted over all the rust! Solution: a new muffler, tomorrow.

So what have we learned from this experience? If you want a cool-looking, neat, lovely to drive second-hand car, buy a BMW. If you want to drive it the moment you get it, buy a new BMW. If you want it fixed, buy an Ashton.

War, what is it good for? Screenshots!

2006-12-30T09:22:00.000+10:30

Gaining my inspiration from Generalleutnant Patrick, Fürst von Kohlmann (or Pat Coleman, whichever you prefer), here is a pic-post from our frequent Age of Empires III battles and engagements...

Aah...holidays. Where would we be without them...

Suddenly, Rann realised that this year's total fire ban was over before it had begun...

Happily, Skyshow 1750 was an unqualified success.

Not even Mussolini could get the trains to run as much on schedule as me...primarily because he wouldn't be born for another century and a half...

It was only when they were told that they weren't going to be paid that the cast of the Carlton Draught Big Ad really got mad.

"Wilhelm, do you see those cannons?"
"Cannons? Nonsense! Who on earth would have cannons in the Amazon?"
*BOOM*
"...my mistake."

With dual walls, cannon towers, two fortresses and naval support, Fort KODOS was more impregnable than a nun, and a full three percent prettier.

It was then, as the British infantry, cavalry and artillery all converged upon the Ottoman outpost, that the secret agent snuck away, to embark on his true mission to find Santa Claus.

"Quick, they are attacking our houses!"
"Never mind the houses...PROTECT THE SHEEP!!"

It is a little-known fact that Sir Isaac Newton's younger brother, Bob, first discovered gravity, while working in a Royal Army firing squad.

It had been a long, hard slog, across the ocean, landing on hostile shores, and fighting through thick and murderous enemy fire...but finally, Colonel Beatty's men had captured the coconut tree they so craved...

British soldier: "Look out for that train!!"
Russian cavalry officer: "What tra..."

"Do you ever get bored?", Laser-Bear asked his companion.
"Not really", replied the giant levitating marble bust of George Washington. "You never know what crazy things you'll find around here..."

Have yourself a meowy little Christmas...

2006-12-25T18:56:00.000+10:30

From Tosca and the rest of the gang...

"Wir wünschen euch fröhliche Weihnachten und 'nen guten Rutsch ins neue Jahr!"

I wish everyone I know, and even people I don't, the very best of wishes, a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

Now maybe they can stop playing Mexican Christmas carols..."Ayayayayay...."

And don't forget, sports fans, the Sydney-Hobart is just around the corner...

So again, I wish you all the best of Christmases. Mine is already the best. As I have spent it with Courtney. So you can't top that. But do your best anyway... =)

Frohe Weihnachten.

Bodie.-

A funny thing happened on the way to the Flinders Uni IT forum

2006-12-08T23:28:00.000+10:30

Asking the questions we all want to know are these Flinders Uni IT students, discovered when Courtney was checking for her results from this semester...

I hope someone replies with "I already have my ass and it looks good to me!"

A few words of wisdom

2006-12-05T17:42:00.000+10:30

The first are from Weebl of Weebl and Bob fame, in the excellent webtoon "Scampi":
I've seen things, I've seen them with my eyes.
I've seen things, they're often in disguise, like
Carrots, handbags, cheese, toilets,
Russians, planets, hamsters, weddings,
Poets, Stalin,
KUALA LUMPUR,
Pygmies, budgies,
KUALA LUMPUR!

Very very deep.

The second are from Morten Harket, who is, of course, the lead vocalist of a-ha:

Talking away
I don't know what I'm to say
I'll say it anyway
today's another day to find you
Shying away
I'll be coming for you love O.K.

Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two

So needless to say I'm odds and ends
But that's me, stumbling away
Slowly learning that life is O.K.
Say after me
It's no better to be safe than sorry.

Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two.

The things that you say
Is it live or just to play
My worries away
You're all the things I've got to remember
You shying away
I'll be coming for you anyway

Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two

"Walther PPK. 7.65 millimetre. Only three men I know use such a gun. I've killed two of them."

2006-11-30T17:32:00.000+10:30

Unless you're stupid and/or blind and/or deaf, you'll know that the new Bond film, Casino Royale, will be out in cinemas soon. You may or may not also know that I am a huge James Bond fan. Daniel Craig, far from being the train wreck of the Bond franchise, has been called by some the first actor to nail the character of Bond (high praise indeed!). But before we pass judgement on the new Bond, let's have a look at some of the best and worst moments in the life of the enduring spy.

Best Bond

Sean Connery was the perfect actor to begin the Bond franchise, and still remains to this day the best Bond there has been. Connery's Bond was the most gritty of the lot (save Craig): a vicious but charming fellow, a smoker who played a mean hand of baccarat, as at home making love to women as he was slapping them around to make them talk. From the moment we saw his immortal casino entrance in Dr. No, to his final scene in Diamonds are Forever (we'll ignore Never Say Never Again, as it's not a real Bond film), the viewer always knew that this was Bond. James Bond.

Worst Bond

George Lazenby was given a pretty tall task: follow on where Sean Connery left off. It didn't help that the previous film, You Only Live Twice, proclaimed prominently on its poster that Sean Connery IS James Bond, but now here was an Australian upstart, a bit-part in television commercials, no less, who was now taking over from the illustrious Scotsman. Lazenby had no acting experience, none of the sophisticated charm of Connery, and despite being gifted the best supporting cast for the best Bond story, Lazenby failed miserably.

Best Film

From Russia With Love was the second Bond film, a rollicking good adventure, almost pure spy story and only a handful of gadgets. Bond travels to Istanbul to handle the defection of a Russian cipher clerk and the gifting to MI6 of a LEKTOR code machine. Unfortunately for Tatiana Romanova, the clerk involved, she doesn't know that she's a mere pawn in a much greater plot, developed by Bond's deadliest enemies, SPECTRE! Notable for the introduction of Desmond Llewelyn as Q, the train sequence, Bond's estimable Turkish ally Kerim Bey, the murderous Red Grant, the Coke bottle glasses of Major Klebb, and of course, the lovely Romanova, From Russia With Love is THE classic Bond film.
Classic scene: Bond's first meeting with Bey--
Bond: "So I gathered from your chauffeur. He's a rather intelligent young man, by the way."
Bey: "He should be. He is my son."

Worst Film

Diamonds are Forever suffered a little, partially because the previous film, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, had been helmed by the awful George Lazenby, and partly because Diamonds are Forever starred a rather reluctant and now-aging Sean Connery. Bond travels to America to chase down illegal conflict diamonds, only to discover that his enemy Blofeld is behind it all. Jill St John as the Bond girl was annoying, the henchmen, Mr Wint and Mr Kidd, were weird and suggestive, and the dubious setting of Las Vegas didn't do much for the film. Connery was showing his age, and the scene with the lunar rover was just plain silly.
Classic scene: Blofeld deciding what American city to destroy--
Blofeld: "The satellite is at present over... Kansas. Well, if we destroy Kansas the world may not hear about it for years."

Best Bond Girl

Diana Rigg, of The Avengers fame as Mrs Peel, played the complicated role of Teresa di Vincenzo perfectly, somehow evolving her suicidal, attention-seeking tearaway into Bond's doting, intelligent and courageous lover so delightfully and so flawlessly, that the audience would soon fall in love with her just as completely as Bond himself did. Teresa, or "Tracey" to Bond, was not the bikini-clad beach bomb we see so many times, beginning with Ursula Andress' Honey Rider in Dr. No, but rather a rich and glamorous playgirl and daughter of criminal kingpin Marc Ange Draco, bored with life and needing the exciting stability that Bond brings. It is her tragic end at the very close of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, having become the new Mrs. James Bond, that brings home Bond's humanity, and it's unlikely that the audience does not burst into tears with him.

Worst Bond Girl

Tanya Roberts as Stacey Sutton was not a good Bond girl in the least. She is probably the most useless of the lot, and when Bond battles Max Zorin in A View To A Kill, Stacey is more often in the way and in trouble than doing useful things. She loads her shotgun with rock-salt, and when this fails to dissuade Zorin's goons, she flails her arms about screaming "Help me, James!" A card-carrying greenie, Stacey is, in a word, useless.

Best Bond Car

Argh, this one's not so easy. Obviously the Aston Martin DB5 has to be in there, as it is undoubtedly the classic Bond car. Making its first appearance in Goldfinger, it came equipped with radar, machine guns, smokescreen and even a passenger-side ejector seat. But of course, we also need to remember...

...the submarine-capable Lotus Esprit that Roger Moore's Bond used to its full effect in The Spy Who Loved Me. Torpedoes, limpet mines, submarine-to-air missiles, underwater turbines...what more would you want in a vehicle?

Worst Bond Car

I am very loath to call any of the Bond automobiles the "worst". And especially if it happens to be a BMW. Nonetheless, the gorgeous BMW Z3 Roadster loses out here. Seen in GoldenEye, it was some car! Beautifully crafted, fast, sporty, and deadly, with "all the natural refinements", as well as Stinger missiles behind the headlights. Trouble was, we saw it for all of a minute and a half, and then Bond gave it to Wade in return for his plane. It would've been nice to see more of this beautiful machine, but oh well...

Best Bond Gadget

When Bond travelled to Japan, intent on finding out who was behind the kidnapping of American and Soviet spacemen from orbit, he needed some aerial surveillance. Thus, he turned to Q's latest stroke of genius, the autogyro known as Little Nellie. Sprouting rocket pods, aerial mines, machine guns and guided missiles, Nellie proved her worth against SPECTRE helicopters. Truly a very cool little chopper.

Worst Bond Gadget

The surfboard Bond uses in the opening sequence of Die Another Day. I mean, honestly. 007 surfing? A bit silly, isn't it...

Best Bond Villain

Ernst Stavro Blofeld would be hard to beat for this award. The head of SPECTRE, and he of the fluffy white cat fame, he is Connery's nemesis for a great many years. Blofeld, of course, is responsible for the death of Tracey, but many other diabolical plots begin with Blofeld.
Classic scene: Blofeld to Bond, as Tiger Tanaka's men begin attacking his secret volcano hideout--
Blofeld: "The firing power inside my crater is enough to annihilate a small army. You can watch it all on TV. It's the last program you're likely to see."

Worst Bond Villain

Won by both Mr Wint and Mr Kidd. For aforementioned reasons. And because they wear really bad brown suits.

Random Cool Thing

Largo's nuclear bomb-carrying yacht, the Disco Volante. Lovely!

Silliest Quote

No challenge here.
Blofeld, dangling from the landing skids of a helicopter in For Your Eyes Only--
Blofeld: "Mister Bond, please! We can do a deal! I'll buy you a delicatessen...in stainless steel!"

I'm very very VERY looking forward to Casino Royale.

Service with a smile

2006-11-23T14:29:00.000+10:30

Today I went into town at about 3.15. This does not sound like an arduous task, but mark my word, it is.
You see, I had to brave the Adelaide public transport system. Now, this is no mean feat, especially at 3.15, with a load of screaming and yelling obnoxious Concordia, Unley High and, later, St Aloysius students on board. But compound this with the new Adelaide Metro system, and you can possibly see the dilemma.
As a member of the public, I do not see why we cannot have a transport system that runs on time. I do not see why we need to continually suffer buses that don't adhere to timetables. And I certainly do not see why those buses must be adorned with a lovely bouquet of urine.
It's an old story: when you're on time to your bus stop, the bus was early and has been and gone. When you're early to your stop, the bus will be very late. The latter was the case today, and I enjoyed waiting around for 10 minutes while the Concordia louts entered a discussion about whether the Go Zone meant a wait of 15 or 30 minutes, even though the signs at the stop clearly showed the former to be the answer. Apparently, they were as confused as I was about why our bus was taking so long to materialise. But eventually it did, and I took my seat, surrounded by, among others, a girl who jumped every time my phone rang, a boy who was busily trying to impress Jumpy Girl by speaking in a low voice (which failed miserably when said voice broke), and a slightly-older-but-still-in-school girl who seemed intent on shoving her boobs in some other schoolboy's face. I returned my attention to my book and my music, but, as our driver had delusions of rally grandeur, the strains of Dream Theater and the witticisms of Jeremy Clarkson were continually interrupted by a schoolbag or a guitar case poking intrusively against my shoulder, side or face.

Evidently, our tomboy driver would have failed in the World Rally Championships, because she finally arrived in town some 25 minutes late. I alighted as quickly as I could, to go and meet Courtney, whose bus journey was equally interesting. She had boarded a bus at Flinders University, with the appellation CITY, via STURT ROAD and CURRIE STREET. Lovely, except it did not say that it also travelled via Marion Centre, Glenelg, Harbour Town, Henley Beach, and the Moon. How silly was the route? Let me show you...

What makes sense about this route? Nothing! It takes an hour and a half and goes completely the wrong way for half the time! It could only be more random if it also went via Salisbury, although Harbour Town is pretty close to the end of the world anyway...
Adding to that the severe problems we have with the buses on our roads, and you see that we have a significant issue here. About 50% of buses are not air-conditioned, and about 65% are not disability-friendly. There are so many out of service because of mechanical error that Serco and Torrens Transit and whatnot have reintroduced a few old bangers that haven't been used in so long that they don't have cabin lights and their seats are still upholstered with STA fabric...and let's keep in mind that the State Transport Authority ceased to exist about 15 years ago. In the meantime, the government approves more funds for the tram extension to the railway station. I like the idea of a tram extension, but really, shouldn't we first fix the bus problems before lengthening the tramline by a few hundred yards. How many new buses could we have bought with the millions of dollars that the tram is already over-budget by, and how many routes could have been fixed?

But then, why am I so surprised? The Rann state government has been nothing but blundering and nonsensical during its entire existence. Cast your minds back to the whole nuclear waste disposal depository debacle. Facts: There is a lot of nuclear waste in the world. Northern South Australia, with its expansive desert and lack of population, would be the perfect place for an underground dump. Also, the waste would be low-grade--gloves, gowns and masks worn by radiologists, for instance, which at the moment are stored in hospital basements in the centre of Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney, etc. Rann: The moment anyone whispers "nuclear", no one likes it. So sod the fact that this waste is currently in population centres, and that the chances of contamination from a dump in the desert is next to nil. We will not have a dump in South Australia.
Or maybe education is their strong point. The "Honorable" Jane Lomax Smith has some nifty ideas there, proudly proclaiming that the government will open seven new schools...by closing nineteen others. I was never any good at maths, but her arithmetic seems slightly off there...
Let's recall the election ads involving Mike Rann; "That's why Health is our top priority" one night, "that's why Education is our top priority" the next, and "that's why Security is our top priority" on the weekends. That's a lot of top priorities. I'm assuming that actually doing useful things is not one of them.

And while we're on the subject of governments, the Adelaide City Council has been doing a bang-on job of sodding things up as usual. First, Rundle Convergence. Now, speakers have been installed on the lamp-posts, pumping out...Christmas carols. But not the nice, soft, non-interfering types in David Jones, but rather a mix of crap. Today, a throaty female RnB singer warbling Silent Night was accompanied by a choir singing either a funeral dirge or We Wish You A Merry Christmas (very slowly, in the key of Death Minor, it seems), and then...a Mexican carol. And between the la cucarachas you could probably wonder if they're dreaming of a white sombrero. What has Mexico done for us Adelaideans other than provide the Uni of Adelaide an excuse to create another club that involves drinking Coronas while wolfing down burritos and dreaming of cocaine pushers in Guadalajara. And if they start singing about Senor Frosty, the big cojones Snowman, I am seriously leaving. Preferably to somewhere where they've never heard of Adelaide. That means I have a lot of places to pick from.

And finally, on to another government scheme, this time, from Canberra. This new idea of introducing chaplains into public schools is, frankly, disturbingly stupid. As I've once tried to point out to Angus (which he then ignored, because he realised he was wrong) is that, in a democracy, Church and State should be separate. It is a fundamental tenet of democratic society. Why, then, should our secular schools be theologised? I suppose it's all well and good if you're a parent and want your child to be taught in a religious way, but what about those who don't want that? Besides which, a religion should not be indoctrinated into a child. Crucial to religion is the concept of faith, but if you are forced to be a good Catholic, is it really your faith that governs you, or someone else's?
It reminds me of the Intelligent Design debate in the United States. Should it be taught in science classrooms that an alternative to Evolution, which has an enormous amount of evidence to support it, is the idea that an omnipotent being (namely, God) created everything? The funny thing about this, as Douglas Adams immortalised in The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, is that there can be no evidence to support this theory, as to provide evidence would deny faith, "and without faith I [God] am nothing." Intelligent Design is clearly a religious idea. Religion is based upon faith, and faith shuns the notion of evidence. Since science is based upon observation and evidence, a "scientific" doctrine based upon the lack of evidence is clearly unscientific, and thus should not be taught. Or, if it is, then it should be also made law that in every Sunday School class and religious lesson, it should be taught that, despite the belief that God exists, it is equally possible that he's the product of the overactive imagination of some nutjob living several thousand years ago and perpetuated through lies and fairy-tales regurgitated by the Church. I think that's a fair compromise. I rather like how Jeremy Clarkson sums it all up, though:

Now, let us for a moment compare this state of affairs [Evolution] to the alternative put forward by those ancient scribes who wrote the Old Testament. God wakes up one morning, cleans his teeth and decides: "I know. I'll make a man and a woman today." So he does. In a matter of hours, the woman's had a fling with a snake, given herself up to the devil and had two children, one of whom eats the other and climbs into bed with his mother, claiming that if she doesn't come across, it'll be curtains for humanity.
Either way, there's bugger-all point tracing your family tree because, if Darwin got it right, your great-great-great-great-grandfather was an amoeba and, if the Old Testament was right, you stem from someone who ate his brother and pulled his mum. Even if, en route to this discovery, you find that you are a direct descendant of Richard the Lionheart, it really is only a small consolation.

(Clarkson, J. "All Change", in Clarkson on Cars. 1996: Penguin, London, pp.185-6)

Given the choice, I'd rather the amoeba to the incestuous cannibal any day. Because, even if the Old Testament got it right, and God did create the weak-willed Adam, the wanton Eve, and they then created a murder victim and a depraved murderer, then God seriously buggered up his creation, didn't he?

Just some random things

2006-11-21T16:01:00.000+10:30

Soccer: Without our star striker Pat Coleman, who was incommunicado in San Diego, the Blue Devils took on...some other team. The biggest surprise before the game was the arrival of Tang, but we shrugged off this weirdness and started playing. We were soon on the board, but the opposition hit back, and despite some exceptional attacking football from Tom Gieroba and Khang Tran, at the end of the first half we were 1-2 down. After the break, though, all the stops were pulled out. Thuc le Tat was a brick wall in goals, Denley, Jacob and I were peppering the target, and Tom and Khang were making the most of their opportunities. By the end of the game the score was 9-2, with scorers being Khang (4), Tom (2), Denley (1), Jacob (1), and impressively, Simon (1), with his first goal in competitive football. Well done to everyone, the second half especially was a display of goodly strength. Next week we play at 3.50 at Unley, and with Pat back, hopefully some super football shall ensue.

Exams: Mine are over. I don't know about most other people, but GOOD LUCK and BEST WISHES to Courtney, who finishes on Friday. Although I know for a fact that she'll do ultra well. Because she will =)

Non-Exams: Just to remind everyone, COURTNEY IS THE BEST!

Bono, not sotto; and converging permutations

2006-11-19T13:55:00.000+10:30

Recently in the so-called "newspaper" we call the Advertiser, a few things were brought to our attention.
Firstly: that Bono and the rest of U2 should not involve themselves in the fight against poverty.
Secondly: that Adelaide can rival New York.

Firstly, to U2. Undoubtedly the biggest band in the world, U2 hails from Ireland, and is fronted by Paul David Hewson, better known as Bono, as the band members nicknamed him "Bono vox", which is Latin for "Beautiful Voice". Since the 1980s, U2 has sold some 170,000,000 albums worldwide, with six #1 albums in the USA, nine in the UK, and a whopping twenty-two Grammy Awards to their names. Their music has been classified as ranging from punk to pop-rock, and the band can brag that they have a fan base broader than almost any other band in the world. Not bad for the Dublin lads.

But what Bono is currently extremely famous for is his tireless campaigning against African debt and appalling living conditions, and to that end is involved in a plethora of charities. He has been involved in Live Aid, Live8, has a charity known as Debt, AIDS, Trade in Africa (DATA), is the founder of a fair-trade clothing line called EDUN, and has supported the charity (RED) as well as many others. In 2003, 2005 and 2006 he was a nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize.
However, on 12 November, Ian Smith published an article on the AdelaideNow website, which was then published in either the Sunday Mail or the Advertiser, entitled "Maybe Bono should stick to the music". Given that title, the contents are unsurprising. Smith baulks at the very notion of Bono calling for the Federal Government to increase our aid expenditure to 0.7% GDP. He equates Bono with Bob Geldof, who, he says, ruins his various campaigns with his "lecturing style". And though he acknowledges that Bono is involved with the excellent Make Poverty History campaign, he concludes that it is more important for countries to have "adequate infrastructure, governance and, critically, international pressure to rid countries of evil despots". Ultimately, Bono is, according to Smith, only qualified to comment on government policy if it is "on something like taxes on guitars or drum kits", because he is "presumably without detailed knowledge of the situation". In other words, Bono is ignorant, and doesn't know what he's on about.

Left: Bono showing off exactly which hands will make poverty history. Right: Ian Smith-"The Insider", according to the AdelaideNow site. "The Insider" is a synonym for "substandard journo", it seems.

Hang on...I may have gone crazy...but did I not mention that Bono has been a serious contender for the Nobel Peace Prize three times? How about that? Ignorant and ineffectual he may be, but that doesn't matter to the prize committee, according to Mr Smith.
Mr Smith may well be right that it's extremely important that, in order to make aid effective, there needs to be infrastructure, legitimate government and a lack of totalitarianism. Clearly, it is unlikely that Bono and U2 can possibly conjure up these things. But what he fails to acknowledge is that U2 has a wider audience than most nations have citizens. Through his campaigning, Bono is exposing tens of millions of people worldwide to the horrible plight of poverty-stricken Africans and others. The point is not that Joe Jones, having gone to the U2 concert in Adelaide and heard Bono's impassioned plea on behalf of the impoverished masses, decides to donate $10 to Unicef. The point is that Joe Jones and the other 60,000 people who packed into AAMI Stadium the other night (oh how I wish I'd been there) recognise that, yes, there is tremendous poverty in the world. Yes, we are better off than the majority of Earth. Yes, we can make a difference, not only through donating, but by realising that, as a democracy, the government (theoretically) serves us, not the other way around. If we want our leaders to do something about African destitution, then there are ways we can make that happen. Bono might not be able to put in place a tremendous infrastructure in the Sudan for the distribution of humanitarian aid, but he can make us pressure our leaders into pressuring Sudanese leaders to create that structure. And finally, though Mr Smith finds it appalling that Bono wants us to contribute 0.7% GDP towards aid, which he moans is equivalent to $6.2 billion, he seems thoroughly unaware that our latest Budget included a surplus of some $15 billion. Something tells me we can afford it.

So, Paul Hewson is not only Bono vox, but also Zorro, defending those who need defending. And while he pumps out The Saints are Coming with Green Day (thank Fates for this song, which is not only great, but has knocked bloody Sandi Thom off the top of the ARIA charts-HOORAY!!), keep in mind that, without people like Bono, the world would be even worse than it is right now. And that's saying something.

But what's this about New York vis a vis Adelaide? Well, apparently our foolish Lord Mayor has a new hare-brained scheme to put in place, which will waste ratepayers' money and make us look like dicks. Again. But what is it?
WATCH OUT, TIMES SQUARE! BECAUSE HERE COMES...

RUNDLE CONVERGENCE!!
Yes, our answer to the famous Times Square, which will make us look fan-bloody-tastic, apparently. The impressively-named editor of the 'Tiser, Melvin Mansell, calls it "vibrant and exciting." Mayor Harbison claims that it will be "something that has a striking impact during the day and night . . . as exciting as Times Square but different. It will be something really special that expresses the mood of the city at a point where people come to."

What's with the eyes? If Big Brother is watching us, I'd be worried where Gretel Killeen is during all this...

But then, we knew that it would be exciting, like Times Square. After all, New York doesn't have a Commonwealth Bank, a Telstra Shop, a Hungry Jacks and, the piece de resistance, a Target! Makes you wonder why Times Square is so famous, really, when you can't buy shoddily made things from rude staff. Well, you can, but they're not from Target. You need that big round logo to fill the city with class.

I have a suggestion, Mr Harbison. Stop buggering around with the money of your constituents, making plans for things everyone will laugh at/piss on when they get drunk, and start thinking practically. Once upon a time, Rundle Mall looked quite nice, with lots of greenery. Now it just looks poor. Rundle Convergence is not going to change this. It will just make us look like pretentious, silly wannabes. Rather like Sandi Thom, when you think about it. And if the mayor suggests we start wearing daisies in our hair, I will kill him.

Freedom 06

2006-11-14T10:58:00.000+10:30

So uni has finished for another year. I'm free again.

I wish I could find a job.

Results and rulings

2006-11-11T16:38:00.000+10:30

Well, seems like no one else is going to get any of the songs or movies, so it's time to announce the results:

SONGS
1. "We left behind the busy crowd"-->This is from Jimmy Eat World's Ten, and no one guessed it.
2. "Mama was the queen of the mambo, Papa was the king of the Congo"-->Robbie Williams' Bongo Bong and Je Ne T'aime Plus, from his exceptionally mediocre new album Rudebox. Catchy song, though.
3. "My friend drove off the other day, now he's gone and all they say is you gotta live while life goes on"-->Shaun got it right that it's Green Day, but no one got the song, which is J.A.R (Jason Andrew Relva). [SHAUN: 0.5]
4. "Well, flew in from Miami Beach, B.O.A.C., didn't get to bed last night"-->Surprisingly, no one (not even Pat) guessed this classic from The Beatles: Back in the USSR. I thought it was a giveaway, myself...
5. "How many special people change?"-->On the other hand, Kel was quick to point out that this is the first line for Oasis' Champagne Supernova, from their album (What's the Story?) Morning Glory. [KEL: 1]
6. "Still don't know what I was waiting for, and my time was running wild a million dead end streets"-->Again, surprising that no one got this classic, this time from Ziggy Stardust himself. Yep, David Bowie was #6 this time, with Changes.
7. "Don't solve the problem when danger is better"-->Courtney solved this problem pretty easily. Of course, it's Change Your Mind, by the ultra cool All-American Rejects, who are touring the States with Motion City Soundtrack right now. For once, I want to live in Chicago... [COURTNEY: 1]
8. "When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?"-->...and while she was on a roll, Courtney made sure that she got top points for Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, from the album of the same name. [COURTNEY: 1]
9. "My love is alien, I picked her up by chance"-->The old faves eluded people this time around. The Finn boys would be unhappy, because Split Enz's Poor Boy was forgotten in the rush to name the other songs. Oh well...
10. "A suburban man, at my door, but I don't think I'll let him in"-->To round off the song quotes, Kel managed to identify Our Lady Peace's All For You, from their latest album, Gravity. [KEL: 1]

TOTAL FROM SONGS: Kel: 2, Courtney: 2, Shaun 0.5

MOVIES AND TV
11. "'Ere we are then! London! Earth! The Solar System! I did it!"-->The Tenth Doctor gets a bit muddled, from the opening of The Christmas Invasion, in the new series of Doctor Who. Courtney picked up both points here. [COURTNEY: 2]
12. "Who the hell are we to determine the next course of evolution for these people?!"-->Moralising in the Twenty-Fourth Century was, as Courtney rightly pointed out, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise. What no one could tell me is that this quote was from Star Trek IX: Insurrection... [COURTNEY: 1]
13. "When I was sixteen, I went to work for a newspaper in Hong Kong. It was a rag, but the editor taught me one important lesson. The key to a great story is not who, or what, or when, but why."-->Unsurprisingly, Thuc was able to tell us that this was the work of bloodthirsty media mogul Elliot Carver, played by Jonathan Pryce, in the James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies. [THUC: 2]
14. "Come on out, River. The nice man wants to kidnap you."-->Ever the Firefly fan, Courtney correctly informed us that this was said by Doctor Simon Tam. [COURTNEY: 2]
15. "I can't wrap my head around it, Mac. You get up, you go to work, see the people that you know, you talk, you laugh. You're living your life, then suddenly, boom. It's just over. Just like that, and you never even saw it coming."-->In the Battle of the CSI freaks, Pat pipped Thuc to say that this was from CSI:NY. But Thuc got her own back where Pat failed. Yes, Danny Messer said it. [PAT: 1, THUC: 1]
16. "Archaeology is the search for fact, not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall."-->Harrison Ford's immortal Doctor Indiana Jones was quite a witty professor, especially when chasing the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. At least, that's what Courtney says... [COURTNEY:2]
17. "It was just an ordinary day, and you saw them. There were guys in their Porsches, "Look at me in my Porsche, ha ha!" and they were overtaken by a van. Driven by a girl!"-->Angus McNab Main interjected here to point out that yes, good old Richard Hammond from the BBC's Top Gear was making fun of Porsche drivers here. [ANGUS: 2]
18. "I saw your last fight, Shawrelle. Spent so much time face down I thought the canvas had titties."-->Pat worked out that Million Dollar Baby was the film, but no one was able to name Hilary Swank's character, Maggie Fitzgerald, as being the quoted party. [PAT: 1]
19. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically."-->And then he realised that, yes, Cap'n Jack is saying that that was a special moment. Whatever that moment was. It's in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, honest! [PAT: 2]
20. "Last night, Darth Vader came down from planet Vulcan and told me that if I didn't take Lorraine out that he'd melt my brain."-->So to round it all off, Courtney nabbed George McFly's quote from the Michael J. Fox masterpiece that is Back to the Future. [COURTNEY: 2]

TOTAL FROM MOVIES AND TV: Courtney: 9, Pat: 4, Thuc: 3, Angus: 2

Therefore...

Totals from Round 3
1. Courtney: 11
2. Pat: 4
3. Thuc: 3
4. Kel: 2
4. Angus: 2
6. Shaun: 0.5

Which thusly means that, according to previous scores...

1. Courtney: 0+6+11=17
2. Kel: 6+5+2=13
3. Pat: 2+3+4=9
4. Thuc: 3+1+3=7
5. JAmes: 0+2+0=2
5. Angus: 0+0+2=2
7. Ed: 0+1+0=1
8. Shaun: 0+0+0.5=0.5

And thus, the ultimate champion of ultimate goodness is Courtney!! =D

See the World

2006-11-10T15:11:00.000+10:30

Got a light? I bet ya do on a night like this,
It’s cold as the hellfires out here.
One of these days they’re gonna knock down the mission,
They’re gonna burn down the Man,
But who cares when you got nothing to fear?

Quite a sight? Yeah, I s’pose it is when you see it,
It’s got its charms out there.
One of these days it’s all gonna blow away on the wind,
They’re gonna wonder if it’s real,
But when you got nothing to fear, do you really care?

I know what it’s all about, yeah I do.
It’s all broken promises and half-truths.
One of these days it’s all gonna melt away into the black,
They’re gonna say never again,
But how can you be sure when they keep all the proofs?

So don’t you talk to me about peace and prosperity,
Cos I know they don’t give a damn.
They’ve got it written on their faces and in their laws,
But it’s gonna blow up in their faces one day,
And you’ll see that this pantomime’s all a sham.
But take your pass, Joe, take it while you can.
Get out there, see the world,
While it’s still there, and remember when it’s not,
That I told you so.

Rudebox is a bad song

2006-11-07T18:30:00.000+10:30

HAPPY TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY, DARLING COURTNEY!!

So all my exams are FINISHED! Which means that all I have now is a German essay left to write. If I can get my hands on Sonnenallee. Sigh. [UPDATE: Herr Hebart hat eine Kopie von Sonnenallee gekriegt; also kann ich jetzt den Film sehen und einen Aufsatz über ihn schreiben! Itzund bin ich äußerst glücklich. Herzlichen Dank, Herr Hebart, ich stehe bei Ihnen in der Schuld!]

Cheers to Caitlin and Stephanie for inviting me to their Friday night Halloween party; sorry I wasn't able to make it, Cait and Steph, but I hear it was a rollicking good time. And yes, I wrote that sentence specifically so I could say "rollicking". But the sentiment's the same...

Well then well then well then...NOW is the time for another round of the "Guess the song/movie/tv show" competition, which, as you recall, took a short break. But as of the end of last round, the leaderboard stands thus:

Kel: 11
Courtney: 6
Pat: 5
Thuc: 4
JAmes: 2
Ed: 1

This round is going to work slightly differently. I shall give ten song lines, and you have to name the artist and song, as usual, and I shall give ten lines from a movie or a show. BUT with this, you can get up to two points: one for telling me what movie/tv programme the quote is from, AS WELL AS who said it. So good luck with that...

SONGS
1. "We left behind the busy crowd"
2. "Mama was the queen of the mambo, Papa was the king of the Congo"
3. "My friend drove off the other day, now he's gone and all they say is you gotta live while life goes on" [Shaun: Green Day, but what's the song?]
4. "Well, flew in from Miami Beach, B.O.A.C., didn't get to bed last night"
5. "How many special people change?" [Kel: Champagne Supernova, Oasis]
6. "Still don't know what I was waiting for, and my time was running wild a million dead end streets"
7. "Don't solve the problem when danger is better" [Courtney: Change Your Mind, The All-American Rejects]
8. "When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?" [Courtney: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Elton John]
9. "My love is alien, I picked her up by chance"
10. "A suburban man, at my door, but I don't think I'll let him in" [Kel: All For Your, Our Lady Peace]

TV SHOWS AND MOVIES
11. "'Ere we are then! London! Earth! The Solar System! I did it!" [Courtney: Doctor Who, said by the Tenth Doctor]
12. "Who the hell are we to determine the next course of evolution for these people?!" [Courtney: said by Captain Jean-Luc Picard, but what's it from?]
13. "When I was sixteen, I went to work for a newspaper in Hong Kong. It was a rag, but the editor taught me one important lesson. The key to a great story is not who, or what, or when, but why." [Thuc: Tomorrow Never Dies, said by Elliot Carver]
14. "Come on out, River. The nice man wants to kidnap you." [Courtney: Firefly, said by Doctor Simon Tam]
15. "I can't wrap my head around it, Mac. You get up, you go to work, see the people that you know, you talk, you laugh. You're living your life, then suddenly, boom. It's just over. Just like that, and you never even saw it coming." [Pat: CSI:NY, Thuc: said by Danny Messer]
16. "Archaeology is the search for fact, not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall." [Courtney: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, said by Doctor Indiana Jones]
17. "It was just an ordinary day, and you saw them. There were guys in their Porsches, "Look at me in my Porsche, ha ha!" and they were overtaken by a van. Driven by a girl!" [Angus: Top Gear, said by Richard Hammond]
18. "I saw your last fight, Shawrelle. Spent so much time face down I thought the canvas had titties." [Pat: Million Dollar Baby, but who said it?]
19. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically." [Pat: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, said by Captain Jack Sparrow]
20. "Last night, Darth Vader came down from planet Vulcan and told me that if I didn't take Lorraine out that he'd melt my brain." [Courtney: Back to the Future, said by George McFly]

Good luck. =)

To the studious

2006-11-02T16:59:00.000+10:30

GOOD LUCK FOR EXAMS AND ASSIGNMENTS

Fox vs. Limbaugh...not quite the death match of the century

2006-10-30T13:38:00.000+10:30

Michael J. Fox, you are a very brave man. Rush Limbaugh, you are an insensitive, mindless idiot. And that's all you really need to know.

Damn good song

2006-10-29T07:46:00.000+10:30

As the title suggests, this is a damn good song. Praise to the All-American Rejects.

IT ENDS TONIGHT
Your subtleties, they strangle me
I can't explain myself at all
And all that wants and all that needs
I don't want to need at all

The walls are breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave alone
A weight is lifted on this evening
I give the final blow
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight, it ends tonight

A falling star, at least I fall alone
I can't explain what you can't explain
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain

The walls are breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you left me alone
A weight is lifted on this evening
I give the final blow
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight, it ends tonight

Now I'm on my own side
It's better than bein' on your side
It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes
All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight, it ends tonight
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight, it ends when...

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight, it ends tonight
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight, it ends tonight, tonight, insight
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight

I look at you with such disdain

2006-10-27T14:51:00.000+09:30

The following took place on the 172 heading from town to Kingswood today, between myself and Ma and Pa Hillbilly, who were seated next to where I was standing, and who were arguing about the location of the Duthy Street Deli...
Bodie: "Excuse me, but the next stop is just past the deli."
Ma: "Where?"
Bodie: "The Deli is at the next bus stop."
Ma: "Where's that?"
Bodie: "Oh, about 100 metres further up from here."
Ma: "So you think it's there."
Bodie: "Yes, it's there."
Ma: "But we passed a deli a short time ago."
Bodie: "That was on George Street."
Ma: "But our friends said it was near a Thai restaurant!"
Bodie: "Well, yes, it is. But the George Street deli isn't."
Ma: "But we passed a Thai restaurant about 10 minutes ago."
Bodie: "That was Hutt Street."
Ma: "But it's the same road."
Bodie: "No, we're now on Duthy Street. Back where the S-bend was, Duthy becomes George Street. Past Greenhill Road, it's Hutt Street."
Ma: "So you think the deli is a little further up."
Bodie: "Yes, at the next stop."
*by now the bus is very close to the next stop*
Ma: "So you must live close to it?"
Bodie: "Not really. I live near the end of Duthy Street."
Ma: "So you're not sure where the deli is."
Bodie: "No, I know exactly where the deli is. In fact, it's right there."
*bus goes past deli and bus stop*
Ma: "Oh. Well, we didn't want to get off there anyway."
Pa: "Yes we did."
Ma: "No we didn't. Pay attention."

Procrastination is a wonderful thing

2006-10-23T14:32:00.000+09:30

Having finally gotten my History essay finished, I figure it's time for another entry.

I feel like apologising to people. And this I want to do because of my recent moodiness and so on. I think the whole enormity of the work I have to do for uni suddenly hit me, and I felt it was going to get the better of me. So if I've been snappy at you, I apologise.

What I really wanted to do right now is tell you all how awesome some people are. And it's going to be hard to say it for everyone, so if you don't get named (as lots of people will not be), it's more likely because I got bored than because I hate you. Also, just people that spring to mind right now. I don't hate many people, it's okay =P

Why not start with the most important person in the world? Courtney is just the most lovely person in the world. If you don't believe me, that's your problem, because she is! She's so kind, sweet, forgiving, clever, beautiful...Everything good, and more! If Courtney has a fault, it's that she's modest. Which is never a fault, really. I just wish she knew how perfect she is...Perfect. And she loves peanut butter taffy! Even perfecter... =D
If you've never been in love, you should try it. I've never been happier.

Who's next? Well, how about Kel? Kel, whose name has somehow been mixed up with that of the wife of Marc Anthony (well...I guess "J" is close to "K" in the alphabet), is seriously a very awesome person. Very kind, very compassionate, very cool. Her music taste is questionable, but everyone has a flaw (except for Courtney, who is absolutely flawless!). Also, Kelly is exceedingly good at chess. Apparently.

Next on the list is the lovely Emilie, or Fod to her friends and acquaintances, unless you call her Em or Emilie. Fod makes an exceptional cheesecake, but besides that she's a genuinely nice person, someone who you want to be friends with from the word go. And she picks good Politics essay questions. But that's besides the point. But yes...Fod=awesome.

And how about The Honourable Krauk? As he goes off to smash another johnson, we are safe in the knowledge that he'll make everyone laugh at his emo hair, his V Challenges, and his soccer skills supreme. And his shirt about a certain Bobulator...

What list would be complete without Pat? MegaPat is awesomely awesome at soccer, programming, geetar and...well, everything. And he knows the perfect time to play poker. Hats off to Mariner's #2 fan after Courtney!

Incidentally, Courtney is perfect.

Finally, a very quick rant.
Manipulative people suck badly. And when they do not realise that it is they who are the manipulative ones, and instead say it of others, it shows a type of self-delusion that is toxic and hurtful. If you cannot see the good in someone, that's one thing. But don't try to turn their friends against them, and don't try to paint yourself as innocent if you are not. So there.

2026, and why it scares me

2006-10-21T16:14:00.000+09:30

I got to wondering today where we'd all be in twenty years time. So here's what I came up with...

Tate, ever the country gentlemen and poet, but specifically lawn bowls champ for five years running, will go in for knee replacement surgery, under the steady scalpel of Tom Gieroba, who has just concluded a V Challenge, and who is performing the delicate operation to the soothing strains of The Veronicas and Doctor Beat. Tate will be fine, and end up beating an elderly Nathan Rice for the Australian title. Not so lucky, however, will be the honourable Krauk's next patient, who is in for a shock after Tom turns the scalpel over to Simon Mitchell, taking part in a Surgery Challenge. Simey and Krauk, however, will not end up being sued, thanks to the exceptional lawyeristic skills of newly-minted King's Counsel Emilie Foden OAM, who has just represented David Hicks in his eventually successful appeal to get out of Guantanamo Bay prison. Her next case should be an easy one, though; she's appearing for the owner of the software megacorporation MortalPuddle, who is being sued by Microsoft on charges of monopolising the market with the new sql_lall operating system. Pat Coleman, from his penthouse suite in Boston, will be pleased to hear he'll not have to pay a cent to William Henry Gates IV, and will continue to provide an unbelievably easy-to-use VR-based OS at a fraction of the new Microsoft Leadlight.

Meantime, former Real Madrid goalkeeper Ron van Ryswyk, having finally retired after one of the most successful careers in the history of international football, will be putting the finishing touches on his long-awaited memoirs, Why Am I So Angry? Various Computer Science subjects are said to answer this question. Before returning to Madrid in his new role as keeping coach for Real, Ron will first holiday in the Philippines. Which would've been a surprise, given he once called the islands "a shithole", but under the (sometimes) benevolent gaze of dictator-for-life Juan Paolo Legaspi and his celebrated wife Caitlin, the country has suddenly become an economic powerhouse, a centre for trade and commerce, thanks to Juan's wooing of Old El Paso to open their regional headquarters there. The rest, as they say, is history, although working on his economics advisory board is Denley Bihari, who is forever having to explain why ads during the cricket does not constitute a failure of the free market economy.

The War on Terror is still going strong, and America's policy of extraordinary rendition means that terror suspects are shipped around the world to be tortured for information. In no way related to this, Thuc le Tat has just been given the Medal of Honour by President Chastity Rice.

Covering the unveiling of a brand-new scramjet-powered superjumbo built by J.D. Aerospace that will revolutionise air travel is ace freelance reporter Kelly Keyte, twice winner of the Pulitzer Prize. The plane itself looks decidedly weird and ungainly, but CEO Jacob Davey is convinced he's about to make his mark on the industry. One of the first passengers will be two-times Wimbledon champion, thrice FIFA Footballer of the Year, former Springboks winger and all-around nice guy Andrew Stevenson, and his partner, Young Matildas coach Sarah Tirimacco, jetsetting around the world so even more people can like them. Somewhere in Greece they will be waylaid by tinkering engineer Andrew Kadis who, according to Krauk, still "touches me in ways I can't even imagine". Even after twenty years we still don't know how that one works.

At the New York Guggenheim Gallery there's the premiere of eclectic and popular artiste Amelia Birve, who bounces between her show and that next door, as famed photographer Ali Woodward proudly shows off her newest creations: promotional shots for the new international hotel chain, TheKOOLHuts. I wonder who's designing them...

If you've got kids back in Australia, then chances are you'd like to send them off to Kadina High School, were Jamie Illman is providing biology lessons. Or maybe you'd rather Melbourne Grammar, where Bodie Ashton PhD teaches History and German, in between writing novels and history texts. He's about to accept a job back in Adelaide to lecture at the University of Adelaide, which will no doubt please his beautiful, devoted and beloved wife Courtney, known Australia-wide as an exceptionally gifted IT consultant and web designer.

And who's still at uni? Good old Angus McNab Main, head of the Adelaide Pope Society, who's still trying to wrap his head around the meaning of the word "bigot"...

Yep, a small snippet of what's going on twenty years from now. Oh Christ!!

Oh my god, Tequila!

2006-10-17T13:48:00.000+09:30

On Saturday night was the much anticipated Krauk Party (that's "die Party von Kraukus" in German, "el Partita de Krauko" in Spanish and "Baguette Bonbon Champs Elysee Louis Vuitton" in French), held at the esteemed KraukBarn ("Spiros Fully Sick Commo Maht" in Modern Greek), where much alcohol was consumed ("alcohol" in English). For a complete report, see...um, below.

I was collected from my place by Pat and Thuc, and we navigated our way through the Badlands on our way to that frontier outpost known as Aberfoyle Park. We arrived in the nick of time, or maybe the fred, because we were the FIRST to arrive, and we got the grand tour. Next up was Shaun, who was my hero for bringing Baileys, and the rest followed. I got my drinks out of the way quickly, and thanks to Denley for the Long Island Iced Tea, which consists of...everything.

Raf arrived soon after, and immediately left on a drinks run. When he returned he set up Singstar, and from then on the machine was dominated by EmO and Ed, with occasional interruptions. Pat and I battled to Franz Ferdinand's Take Me Out, which was fun, but anyhoo...

The highlight and lowlight of the night (at the same time!) was Monkey, who...okay, let me put it this way. He may be good at orienteering, but not so good at orientation. Thankfully, by the time Pat and Thuc and I left, he was too busy grabbing a wall than anything else.

The other highlight, and much more pleasurable for most there, was the cheesecake created masterfully by the intriguingly-spelt Emilie Foden, known to all and sundry (or rainwet) as Fod. Yes, it was awesome cake. Just ask Tom. Or his kitchen wall.

Pat, Thuc and I departed around midnight, and the key indicator for determining whether Thuc had been drinking was the fact that she eminated a stream of consciousness and bad directions and apologies. But it was a good trip home, and a great night overall, and Thuc should stop apologising =P

On to Sunday, and the Blue Devils, after our nail-biting 8-7 loss last week, travelled to St John's in Belair to avenge ourselves. Our opposition were The Cherry Poppers, and we've seen them improve over the weeks. What was more, there was the very real threat that Tom, Denley, Jacob and Thuc would be badly hungover. But no, they soldiered on!
Pat Coleman played the game he was always destined to play, coming out on to the pitch and attacking straight from kick-off. His able defending, skilful breakaways and devastating shots, reminiscent of the famous PatFute Cannon, left him the master of the pitch, and he finished with six goals to his name. Khang, finishing the first half with zero, flew out of the blocks and scored a mighty four, and Krauk, Jacob and I also got into the scoring, although it was a frustrating day for me, finishing with just the one goal from about twenty attempts. Simon and Thuc, on the rare occasions they were needed to defend our goalmouth, were formidable, and Denley played well. Our final score was 15-0, and accurately reflected the dominance on the field. Pat and Khang in particular, once Khang had found his shooting boots, were simply unstoppable.

An ultrasound of my shin says that I have a "subdermal haematoma", which is medijargon for "clot thing". Although apparently it is not dangerous, and I should be able to continue with no problems.

The new bus routes and timetables make zero sense.

Right! Enough procrastinating! Back to History!!

Separated at birth/manufacture

2006-10-15T09:16:00.000+09:30

Postman Pat
Friendly village postie of the village of Greendale.

Cyberman.
Cybernetic killing machine, the next stage of (parallel) human evolution.

...which begs the question, is Jess the cat as innocent as she seems?

Things

2006-10-12T12:28:00.000+09:30

The following is in another language, so as to keep a secret from a certain someone:

Die Blog von JAmes existiert noch, aber die alte Webadresse ist jetzt kaputt, weil die Schwester von JAmes die alte kuhle (oder KOOLe) Blog gefunden hat und deswegen musste er das Beweismaterial verstecken. Bitte besucht TheSHIBBYShack, und alles ist da schibbisch!

Now that that's out of the way:

Today my budgie, Chap, died. Probably from the heat. =(

On Monday I need to have an X-ray and an ultrasonic scan of my right shin, but we'll see what happens.

A note to everyone in the Blue Devils: our match is EARLY and at St John's this week!

Servus.

Think French!

2006-10-09T06:57:00.000+09:30

Just a quick update, after reading my History reader. A reading in the book shows us the level of French military planning before the First World War. Keep in mind this is actually how the French General Staff thought, paraphrased by me:

We can justify a preemptive attack on Germany because Germany probably wants to go to war with us, so we're going to war to stop them going to war.
Knowing this, the Germans might preempt our preemptive attack by launching a preemptive attack on Liege.
Knowing this, we can preempt their preemptive attack on Liege that preempts our preemptive attack, by preemptively attacking Alsace-Lorraine.
Thus, the war is justified.

It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so tragic.

Oh, and the plans for the coming general European war at the time:

Germany: The Schlieffen Plan (beat France, then turn around, run like hell and beat Russia before Russia beats us)
France: Plan Seventeen (what were the previous sixteen plans?)
Russia: Plan B (Plan A="do not go to war")

Putting the "fair" in "My Fair Lady"?

2006-10-08T18:13:00.000+09:30

I was intrigued to read an article by Amanda Blair in the newspaper today, talking about the lessons men need to learn. Putting aside my surprise at being told that, as a man, I probably don't know who Hilary Rodham Clinton is (just a tip, Amanda: while you're blowing the trumpet for getting rid of sexism against women, you're showing men to be stupid. Double standard?), what most surprised me were two particular entries:

Men are not allowed to call women by names such as "honey", "sweetie", "pumpkin", "babe", "lovie" and so on, as it is intended to be demeaning and derogatory for women. It is, however, okay if you're on intimate terms.
Men should not open doors for women, as it indicates that the man believes that women are weak.

To begin with the first point, I wouldn't DREAM of calling a female friend, or even Courtney, "pumpkin", or "lovie". Nor would I call any random girl "honey", "sweetie" or "babe". It seems to be a bit too personal. But just take a walk around town, and listen to girls talking to each other. "Sweetie" and "babe" are in the mix quite a bit. Does this mean that Adelaide is full of lesbian lovers? Probably not. Well then, does it mean that women are being discriminatory against themselves? Doubtful. Furthermore, I know a few times that I've been to a bar or a shop, and have been served by women who called me "love". I don't make a habit of being intimate with bartenders, so are they being insulting towards me? Is this female sexism against a man? To be honest, I've never thought about it. Maybe I should. Maybe, everywhere I go, I am being slandered by women. When I go to David Jones and pay a bill, and the woman calls me "sir", is she being polite or sarcastic? When I go to Myer and buy a shirt, and the woman calls me "mate", I'm clearly not her mate, so should I be offended at the diminuitive? Although, according to Amanda Blair, it probably doesn't work both ways. Women can be offended, but me? How dare I even consider it!

On the second point, I think that's a bit harsh. I'll open a door for a woman, but am I thinking "she is far too weak to open a door"? No! I'm thinking "I'll open the door because it's the polite thing to do", or, even more likely, I won't be thinking at all. I'll just do it. But it's certainly not because I am trying to be offensive. If anything, isn't it showing a respect for women, that I will open a door for them? I've been berated for doing it before, but I really don't understand why. Besides which, opening a door only for yourself, when there are other people to walk through it, is the height of selfishness and rudeness.

I think I shall take offence at the fact that Ms Blair thinks men need to learn lessons about how to treat women. And if we do, then how about the other way around? We are not all hulking idiots, not all "moist robots", as Scott Adams would put it, and yes, a lot of us are intelligent. Your average man is not about to rape some girl, then keep her to do his ironing and cleaning while he watches the footy and drinks a can of Fosters. The average man does not wear a stained Bonds singlet and football shorts, and he does not scratch his arse every minute while burping. I remember, back in the day, when Underdaks put an ad on TV, in which a man, who was to travel on a plane, gets to a security checkpoint, (wo)manned by two female security staff. Every time he walks through the scanner, it beeps, and he has to progressively strip off, until he's only in his...you guessed it...Underdaks, at which point he's allowed to proceed. The women, after admiring his crotch, say to each other, "He's probably gay." Can you imagine if there were an ad like that, except with a woman going through the checkpoint? How many feminist rights groups would scream for a parliamentary inquiry because of the line, "She's probably a lesbian"?

So, Ms Blair, don't whinge at me for being polite, and don't treat us like an undergender. Men are just as important as women, remember...

Another Blown Up Review!

2006-10-05T11:47:00.000+09:30

Well, after a short hiatus, I'm back! And I think it's time to do a review of a new album, one that has been talked about a bit, and one that I just bought...

THE KILLERS
Sam's Town
(Island 2006)

Coming on the heels of The Killers' very successful and very fun debut album Hot Fuss, a lot was expected of their second outing. But this time, it promised to not be more of the same. Brandon Flowers made it clear very early on that his previous inspirations--British bands such as Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, The Smiths and Morrissey--were to be ditched for this album, replaced by his new role models, this time much closer to home for the American band. Out went Dave Gahan and Simon Le Bon, and in came Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. This wasn't really much of a surprise; this album, Sam's Town, is named for Las Vegas, and is thus a rambling musical tour of the city where Flowers and Co. grew up and formed a band to while away their boredom. It seemed logical that, for the epitome of the brash American city, they'd pick the epitome of the brash American sound.
But something got lost in the translation. Hot Fuss relied heavily on electronic synthesiser, coupled seamlessly with Flowers' almost English accent, with the barest hint of a Nevada twang. Sam's Town, however, is a fusion of raw guitar riffs and bass, and Flowers has reverted from sounding like a Good Old Boy into sounding like a bit-part from CSI. The American accent is back with a vengeance, and though it takes a bit of getting used to after his silky Hot Fuss performance, it does grow on you.
What doesn't is the use of the synthesiser. What was the staple of the debut now seems to be the afterthought of the successor. It's as if the band members realised, as they were about to press the CDs, that their new-found Vegas style may not sit perfectly well with the fans of 2004, and decided to throw in the electronic music for continuity. The trouble is, it grates with the growling guitar, it grates with Flowers' more warbling tone, it even grates with the occasional choruses that, in places, give this album by the Mormon group almost a gospel feel. It's too loud and too prominent, and sounds a whole lot like a Nintendo video game in places.

So is this album a train wreck? By no means.

Sam's Town has a lot going for it. Its raw sound will be appreciated more by American audiences than the worldwide appeal of Hot Fuss, but the melodies are, in some cases, quite excellent. So too the lyrics. Hot Fuss was loved and criticised in equal measure for its vague, metaphorical and, sometimes, nonsensical verses. By comparison, Sam's Town is much more explicit in its meaning. There's no last chances for go-go dancing on this CD, just the bare bones of stories taken from the lives and experiences of The Killers themselves and their hometown. There's not much you need to interpret about "When everybody else refrained, my Uncle Jonny did cocaine/He’s convinced himself right in his brain that it helps to take away the pain." This also means that the darker songs of the album (such as the then-quoted Uncle Jonny) are indeed quite dark, and not disguised by a catchy beat, a la Smile Like You Mean It. And then, there are also some really great songs. Read My Mind is the first song where the fusion between old and new is perfect, and This River Is Wild is reminiscent of the very old Aztec Camera hit, Somewhere In My Heart. But there's nothing on this album so boppy as Mr Brightside, nothing so utterly catchy as Somebody Told Me, nothing so inanely fun as Midnight Show or Believe Me Natalie. To be sure, there's potential in this new album, and indeed in this new sound. But there has to be a trade-off made. Either they ditch the synthesiser and stick with guitar and drums and the very basic American rock sound, or they keep the synth. And if they do that, my suggestion to Brandon Flowers would be to sit down and have a chat with Morrissey about style.
SONG OF THE ALBUM: Read My Mind
VERDICT: Six out of a possible ten supernovas

Best wishes

2006-09-23T11:55:00.000+09:30

You all know that I'm a great fan of Top Gear. So it is with shock and horror that I read this morning that Richard Hammond, my favourite presenter on the show and something of a BMW and Aston Martin aficionado, is in hospital after an horrific crash at Elvington aerodrome yesterday.

Hammond, an accomplished driver, author and television personality, was attempting to break Colin Farrows' British land speed record of 300.3mph, in a Vampire jet-powered dragster, when the vehicle veered to the right and Hammond, obviously trying to take emergency action, deployed the braking parachutes. However, the Vampire, powered by a Rolls-Royce Orpheus engine like the ones used in RAF jet trainers, ran off the runway on to the grass, and rolled many times before coming to a crashing halt. Hammond was cut from the wreckage and rushed to the Leeds General Infirmary, where he has been diagnosed as suffering from a "significant brain injury." At the moment, his status is listed as serious but stable, and doctors have reported being cautiously optimistic that he will make a full recovery.

I am under absolutely no illusions that Richard, his co-presenters James and Jeremy, or his family have ever somehow stumbled across my humble blog. If they did, Jeremy would probably make a comment akin to "Bodie" sounding a lot like a new Daihatsu hatchback or something. However, I do wish Richard a successful and speedy recovery, and my thoughts are with his wife Mindy and his daughters, as well as his friends.

Good luck, Hamster. I really do hope to see you back on the air soon. Or the idiot's lantern won't be the same without you...

UPDATE: Hammond's back on his feet, and James, Jeremy and Mindy report that he's making excellent progress! GO HAMSTER! =D

It's back, and this time you didn't fail so badly

2006-09-22T10:06:00.000+09:30

Well, for Round 2 you all did much better with the guesswork. So let's see the results:

Courtney
1. "I hate this! It is revolting!"
"More?"
"Please!" --Star Trek VII: Generations, between Lieutenant-Commander Data and Guinan
9. “The defense department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid.” --Top Gun, said by Goose
13. All animals we are, round the bench in the park, your sisters in the dark today --The Libertines: Begging
14. Attention! Attention! May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room if only, if only for one second? --The Academy Is...: Attention
16. Please leave all overcoats, canes, and top hats with the doorman, and from that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed --Panic! At The Disco: There's A Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet
18. I'm sleeping my way out of this one, with anyone who'll lie down --Fall Out Boy: 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)
TOTAL: 6
Kelly
3. "I am far more than just another Time Lord." --Doctor Who, said by the Seventh Doctor
4. "Name a shrub after me. Something prickly, and hard to eradicate." --Master And Commander: The Far Side of the World, said by Captain Jack Aubrey
12. Oh, Johnny wishes he was famous --Our Lady Peace: Innocent
17. Crash and burn, crash and burn, crash and burn (crash and burn)--patience is a hallmark of the old and the infirm --OK Go: It's A Disaster
20. There's always somebody taller, with more of a wit --Arctic Monkeys: Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts
TOTAL: 5
Patriqu
6. “Encounter with highly abnormal shark-like fish! Ten meters in length! Irregular markings! I tagged it dorsally with a homing dart!” --The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, said by Steve Zissou
8. "Mrs Peel, we're needed!" --The Avengers (either the 1965-66 series with Patrick Macnee and Diana Rigg, or the 1996 movie starring Ralph Fiennes and Uma Thurman), said by John Steed
19. She said, "I could never do that", but I know you can, you are in my dream --Crowded House: I Feel Possessed
TOTAL: 3
JAmes
11. The faster we're falling, we're stopping and stalling, we're running in circles again --Sum 41: In Too Deep
15. Well I am lozin' must in a conversation, makes me use my imagination --Millencolin: Lozin' Must
TOTAL: 2
Thuc
7. “Lansberry's Ridge Builder. One application to the bulbs of the fingers and the ridges plump out temporarily like a chia pet on steroids.” --CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, said by Doctor Gil Grissom
TOTAL: 1
Ed
2. "Closing time, James. Last call." --GoldenEye, said by Alec Trevelyan (006)
TOTAL: 1
Unguessed
5. “Kids, I just had a conversation with General LeClerc. He told me he was first into Paris, and by God, he wanted to be first into Berchtesgaden. I told him I understood his point. Now you fire up Second Battalion and outflank that French son of a bitch!” --Band of Brothers, said by Colonel Sink
10. “We're all very different people. We're not Watusi, we're not Spartans, we're Americans. With a capital "A", huh? And you know what that means? Do you? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts.” --Stripes, said by John Winger
TOTAL: 2

And how is it looking after two rounds of guessing, with one left to go? Well, here is a gimmicky leaderboard to tell you...

So yes, it's a pretty tight battle for second, with Courtney, Patriqu and Thuc all in the running...and maybe with a chance at overtaking Kel in the next round. JAmes will be hoping for some good fortune to get up higher than fifth, and Magical Ed is dead last. More to come...

EmoPat, non-emo EmO, and Biblical Lessons, maybe by emos

2006-09-19T17:27:00.000+09:30

I rather like this. It'd be cool as something to hang on your wall. Or put on the cover of a cd.

But who is the dude with the emo-looking hair jamming on a guitar in vivid technicolour? Why, it's our resident mathemagician and Gitarrespieler, Pat Coleman. And no, he is not really emo. OR IS HE? ...no.

SPEAKING of PatJamming, check out his cover of Jeff Buckley's cover of Hallelujah. Dig it.

SPEAKING of PatJamming, v2.0, Pat is participating in the Google Code Jam, and came a very respectable eighth in round one. Round two is still to come. But he and Khang are once again provisional Australian champions in the APM ICPC South Pacific Regional Championships, which all but assures them a spot in the international championships in Tokyo, Japan. Keep typing, fellas, you'll soon be able to reprogram reality itself...

SPEAKING of emo (or in this case, EmO), she was visited on Saturday night, and served up a sub. A sub which was ultra yum, doubly as it was free. Why free? Because when I paid with a crisp $100.00 note, Em ripped it in twain. Then, she patched it up, but fearing counterfeit cash, gave it back to me. If it was fake, and I don't see how it was, it is now the problem of a certain Coffee Club somewhere in Adelaide...

SPEAKING of Hallelujah, as I was before, I came across this organisation in my trolling of Wikipedia for random information, in this case scandals involving religions:

What do they do? Here, they tell you themselves:

So what, according to Exodus, is a homosexual issue? Apparently, it seems, being gay. Now, I'm sure we've all heard how being homosexual is a sin, etc etc etc (which is discriminatory, and I don't really see how a perfectly benevolent god would tolerate it...), but Exodus are different. They say that homosexuality is a sin, and they can cure it! Wowee! Apparently it's like the flu: given the right season, it's so very easy to catch. But now, with new Exodus GayAway tablets, you're right as rain! (if sexual preference persists, please see a priest).
That sounds like I'm taking the mickey, but it's not really that far from the truth, as far as Exodus sees it. Homosexuality, they claim, can be cured, much like a nasty bug. But only through making the "patient" suffer what's known as "reparative therapy" (mixing their metaphors; now they think homosexuality is like being a broken-down refridgerator, and thus can be "repaired"). This therapy constitutes many phases, which up until very recently included:

Electro-shock treatment: patients are stunned with an electric shock whenever they show "homosexual tendencies"
Aversion therapy: showing patients homoerotic pictures, films etc, and administering drugs to make them violently sick, associating the nausea with the impulses

Now, come on. If you did this sort of thing to your offspring, you'd be arrested for child abuse. But not that long ago (by which I mean, in the last decade) this was considered legitimate therapy to "cure" someone of homosexuality. Again, I wonder what a benevolent god would think of torturing someone for their preference.
Exodus, I find, are great for comic relief: they are marketing a lecture course called "I Questioned Homosexuality" (I'm sure it was a thrilling interview), a book called God's Grace and the Homosexual Next Door (wow, God's a busy guy), and an educational film called Homosexuality 101 (no points for originality), containing the inspired question "Where does it come from?" Maybe I should ask myself where my heterosexuality comes from...or maybe I should just accept that it is. How does that sound? Good? Good.
The aims, as far as I've read from one particular testimonial from some Exodus guy, are confusing. Basically:

Exodus want gay people to be cured, and then be able to foster a heterosexual relationship.
Exodus believe that it is fine for a man to love another man. The homosexual preference is affirmed by having sex with a member of your own sex, not by loving them.
If you are male and have gay sex, then you are gay. And that's wrong.
So once a gay man (I'm saying man here, because it's easier than constantly saying "she/he", "him/her", "man/woman", et al) has been "cured" of the desire to have sex with another man, he should find a woman to be with, and eventually (we assume) marry.
BUT the whole idea of marriage is to "love, honour and obey", and for it to be a monogamous relationship. So, if the man still loves another man, as Exodus say is okay, then either he does not love his prospective wife, or else does love her, but loves someone else too. So he should not get married.
Sex out of wedlock is a sin. Thus, man must remain celibate for the rest of his life.

Is it just me, or is this INSANE?!

Oh, and one final point of irony: in Biblical terms, the Exodus refers to an act preceded by the Israelites suffering awful and unjust persecution. Do we see the parallel? Maybe Exodus International should think before making a name for themselves...

Oh, and for those still wanting to put answers down for the lyric/quote guessing game, there are still two movie/tv quotes left!!

It's back, but you fail

2006-09-17T10:31:00.000+09:30

COURTNEYBERRY IS THE BESTEST EVER!!!

Yep, officially you guys aren't great at naming those fifteen songs. But here's how it turned out:

NAMED SONGS

Kelly:
2. "I'm so tired, my feet don't touch the ground"--I'm So Tired, Eskimo Joe
3. "Hear the sound of the falling rain, coming down like an Armageddon flame"--Holiday, Green Day
4. "So if you're lonely, you know I'm here, waiting for you"--Take Me Out, Franz Ferdinand
5. "I never gave a reason of why I didn't call"--Better Off Alone, Grinspoon
10. "D'ya want to go to the seaside? I'm not trying to say that everybody wants to go..."--Seaside, The Kooks
15. "It could be ten, but then again I can't remember half an hour since a quarter to four" [note: yes, I quoted it slightly wrong originally]--Here It Goes Again, OK Go
TOTAL: 6
Thuc
4. "So if you're lonely, you know I'm here, waiting for you"--Take Me Out, Franz Ferdinand
6. "So unimpressed, but so in awe; such a saint, but such a whore"--Come Undone, Robbie Williams
13. "You were on your own, you do as you please"--Are You Still Having Fun, Eagle Eye Cherry
TOTAL: 3
Pat
12. "The world today seems absolutely crackers, with nuclear bombs to blow us all sky-high"--I Like Chinese, Monty Python
15. "It could be ten, but then again I can't remember half an hour since a quarter to four"--Here It Goes Again, OK Go
TOTAL: 2
Unguessed songs
1. "They're out of sorts in Sunderland, and terribly cross in Kent"--There Are Bad Times Just Around The Corner, Robbie Williams (extra marks if you'd have said Noel Coward)
7. This must be it, welcome to the New Year: the drinks were consumed, the plants were destroyed and the hors d'oeuvres dismantled--Together Let's Ring In The New Year, Motion City Soundtrack
8. Did you see the stylish kids in the riot, we were shovelled up like muck, set the night on fire--A Time For Heroes, The Libertines
9. Well I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man--Run For Your Life, The Beatles
11. I've got the brains, you've got the looks--let's make lots of money--Opportunities (Let's Make Lots Of Money), Pet Shop Boys
14. When I look back, boy I must've been green--Honky Cat, Elton John

So more songs were left than were guessed. Sadness.

BUT...
I've taken an idea from Thuc, and I'm going to have ten quotes from movies or TV shows, as well as ten song lines...the song lines will be the second group of ten. In the case of a TV series, you can just name the series, rather than the actual episode. If it's from one in a series of movies, name the specific movie, not the series. So say, if there were a quote from Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope, don't just say "Star Wars". It's not that hard.

MOVIE QUOTES
1. "I hate this! It is revolting!"
"More?"
"Please!" [Courtney, Star Trek VII: Generations]
2. "Closing time, James. Last call." [Ed, GoldenEye]
3. "I am far more than just another Time Lord." [Kelly, Doctor Who]
4. "Name a shrub after me. Something prickly, and hard to eradicate." [Kelly, Master And Commander: The Far Side of the World]
5. “Kids, I just had a conversation with General LeClerc. He told me he was first into Paris, and by God, he wanted to be first into Berchtesgaden. I told him I understood his point. Now you fire up Second Battalion and outflank that French son of a bitch!”
6. “Encounter with highly abnormal shark-like fish! Ten meters in length! Irregular markings! I tagged it dorsally with a homing dart!” [Pat, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou]
7. “Lansberry's Ridge Builder. One application to the bulbs of the fingers and the ridges plump out temporarily like a chia pet on steroids.” [Thuc, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation--and yes, Doctor Gil Grissom says it!]
8. "Mrs Peel, we're needed!" [Pat, The Avengers]
9. “The defense department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid.” [Courtney, Top Gun]
10. “We're all very different people. We're not Watusi, we're not Spartans, we're Americans. With a capital "A", huh? And you know what that means? Do you? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts.”

SONG LINES
11. The faster we're falling, we're stopping and stalling, we're running in circles again [JAmes, Sum 41: In Too Deep]
12. Oh, Johnny wishes he was famous [Kelly, Our Lady Peace: Innocent]
13. All animals we are, round the bench in the park, your sisters in the dark today [Courtney, The Libertines: Begging]
14. Attention! Attention! May I have all your eyes and ears to the front of the room if only, if only for one second? [Courtney, The Academy Is...: Attention]
15. Well I am lozin' must in a conversation, makes me use my imagination [JAmes, Millencolin: Lozin' Must]
16. Please leave all overcoats, canes, and top hats with the doorman, and from that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed [Courtney, Panic! At The Disco: There's A Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet]
17. Crash and burn, crash and burn, crash and burn (crash and burn)--patience is a hallmark of the old and the infirm [Kelly, OK Go: It's A Disaster]
18. I'm sleeping my way out of this one, with anyone who'll lie down [Courtney, Fall Out Boy: 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)]
19. She said, "I could never do that", but I know you can, you are in my dream [Pat, Crowded House: I Feel Possessed]
20. There's always somebody taller, with more of a wit [Kelly, Arctic Monkeys: Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts]

Story of my day; or "130906" (note: true story follows)

2006-09-14T14:55:00.000+09:30

130906

It wasn’t a big fire. To say that the rubbish bin was ablaze seemed to conjure up Towering Inferno-like images of a blistering maelstrom of flame and smoke. You’d almost expect the ant version of Steve MacQueen to fly on to the top of the bin, on the back of a dragonfly, to save the day. Or Steven Seagal. Or maybe even Keanu Reeves. It wouldn’t be a disaster without them.
But the fact was, it wasn’t a disaster. It was a dull green wheelie bin on King William Street, packed with paper or something along those lines, that someone had decided to set on fire.
Passers-by passed by, and onlookers looked on. Smoke billowed from every square hole that Adelaide City Council had decided were a must for every bin in the Central Business District. A plan to beautify the city, perhaps. Trying to make a bin aesthetically pleasing seems a losing battle. It has to be functional, so people can throw rubbish into it. That’s why it’s called a rubbish bin. The council, in the meantime, decided to try and turn every bin into a work of art. So they surrounded the dull green plastic with a somewhat less dull green metal frame, adorned with small, quadrilateral holes and topped with some stainless steel or aluminium concoction that would give it the look of minimalist opulence. The plan worked for a while, until people began using the bin for its purpose, rather than admiring from afar. The green paint chipped, the silvery finish on the top became scored with years of burned cigarette ash and spilt soft drinks and alcohol. The master-plan was failing, the bins were being used. Obviously, some bright spark decided, they weren’t artistic enough. Would someone stub out a Camel on David’s foot? Would they toss a half-full McDonald’s Coke cup against the ever-smiling visage of the Mona Lisa? What was the deal with her having no eyebrows anyway? This last question, the powers-that-be decided, was beside the point. The only logical solution was to create a bin that was not a bin. Instead, it would become a masterwork, a testament to grand art, and would consist of a brass swine foraging for leftovers. Genius. But soon this solution was also exposed to be flawed. People mistook the faux bin for a real one, and soon Horatio the Pig was also stained by tobacco and syrupy Coke substitute. Thwarted yet again, the councillors immersed themselves in deep thought, desperate to find another way to create a NonBin. But for the moment, at least, the chipped green and off-silver reigned.

Flames licked up the strengthened plastic and curled over the aluminium lip. Most Adelaideans simply walked by, somehow oblivious to the noxious black smoke. Others, waiting for one of the forever late buses that (sometimes) frequented the stop next to the bin, observed with mounting indifference. It was only when a sage businessman, walking past these witnesses, pointed to the bright orange blaze and remarked, “There’s a fire”, that there was any reaction. A schoolgirl screamed. With that out of her system, she returned to awaiting her bus.

The litter fire had been raging, as much as a small fire can rage, for five minutes before two police officers arrived on scene, their bicycles in competition with a bus that had mysteriously arrived to embark passengers. Much has been written about this Adelaide phenomenon, but it so rarely occurs that most scholars have dismissed the stories as pure myth. The bus itself was a ghostly apparition, with its white body shimmering in the heat haze from the fire, and with the clueless and late face of a famed Hunter staring back at the flames. The doors swung open, and like a procession of the damned, ten people marched on board to meet their horrific fate of traffic stoppages and unkempt passengers. The ghost bus driver watched the fiery bin with profound apathy, idly tapping the extinguisher beneath his feet, before abruptly closing his doors and driving away into oblivion.
The police officers remained standing, beside their bikes, before one removed her radio and called for assistance from the Fire Service. Two bright red appliances roared into sight soon after, and I eagerly awaited the arrival of a waterbombing helicopter to restrain this bin fire that had so clearly posed such a threat to the city that it warranted just this response, but I was disappointed when none arrived. Rather, I was approached by a tall, weedy man. His clothes were blue, but he was not.
“Excuse me, good sir”, he purred, sidling as close as he could. “Would you be interested in learning about your place in the right hand of the Almighty in the Kingdom of God?”
I flashed him my best ‘I really don’t care’ smile.
“No.”
He frowned.
“But, good sir”, he protested. “Without our Lord Jesus Christ in your heart and guiding your life you will be damned to eternal sadness and depression.”
He shuddered, as if contemplating the thought of that horrible existence, all the while sidestepping closer, until his polar fleece top brushed my arm.
“No”, I repeated. “I don’t think so.”
He shook his head.
“Your choice, good sir”, he whispered sadly. “But never forget the name of our Lord.”
He pointed ominously to the flaming bin, and I expected Gabriel to emerge, blowing his trumpet and calling souls to the Kingdom of Heaven. Instead, the local plods, now bored with the fire, were leaning against the bus stop, loudly discussing football results. When I turned back, the Man in Blue had gone.
As if divine providence, my bus arrived soon after.

On the way home, the bus arrived at a stop on Hutt Street. A decrepit, flea-bitten man stood in front of the doors.
“Ayyyyyyyya gonna fuckn Doovy Street?”, he slurred as he gripped the doorframe for support.
The driver nodded.
“Yes sir, but I’m afraid new government regulations mean that I can’t allow drunk people on board.”
The decrepit man pounded the side of the bus.
“Ayna drunk a single fuckn thing ya faggot”, he yelled. The driver shrugged.
“The bus now has an alcohol detector”, he said calmly. “If you come on board, it will detect if you’ve had anything to drink, and if you have I can’t let you on.”
“That fuck’n bullshitballs”, the decrepit man cried, and flung himself on to the first step.
The driver released the handbrake, and the warning alarm sounded, accompanied by a flashing red light.
The decrepit man’s eyes widened.
“Shit that fuck’n smart mate”, he garbled in awe, before stumbling off the bus and away from the stop.
The driver grinned, and the doors swung closed.

[is it just me, or is EVERYONE insane?!]