Will Type For Food



kidattypewriter

Sunday, February 07, 2016

Thunk

If being 'grumpy' were such a bad thing, then why is the word so lovely? People who are really serious about wanting less grumpiness should try to get the word changed to some new and unlovely neologism, the examples of which occur every day in politics and the office. As it is, there is hardly anything nicer than being labelled with such a pleasant and homely word as 'grumpy'; there ought to be more of it.

Friday, February 05, 2016

Never encourage them

Positive heckling: the worst sort of heckling.

Good on you for trying!
We all have to start somewhere! (Before you have even started).
This is the best thing I've heard all second!
Don't feel bad! (Said for no reason at all).
Interesting!
Yay!
That must have been good for your self-esteem!
Don't listen to them! (No-one has said anything).
Give yourself a pat on the back!
(Breaks into applause as you reach the third line in a 30 line piece).

Encouragement is never something that should be encouraged, people.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

To do list for Australia Day

To do list for Australia Day

Take the notes off your echidna
Polish up your kangaroo
Update your dingo's rego
Plug in your wombats, too. 

Put your ocker through the washer. 
Hang it on the windowsill. 
Give marsupials an extra pouch.
Give a platypus the bill. 

Wear pavlova to a party - 
Say it's just fancy dress. 
But most important, don't forget -
Repaint your OH&S.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

The advantages and disadvantages of nudism

The advantages and disadvantages of nudism

1. It's nice and cool to let all weathers
Play on your nipples and your nethers.

2. It's nice and cool - until it's cold.

3. It's lots of fun for young and old.

4: But: mum won't like it if she's told.

5. It feels delightful to be free
For breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea.

6. You could get caught in nooks and chinks
Or doors, drawers, cupboards, laundry sinks.

7. Sunshine gives you a pleasant zing.

8. But sunburn, also, is A Thing.

9. It's very economically efficient.*

10. What if, by chance, the neighbours see?

11. What if, by chance, the neighbours see?

12. It's such a very simple way
To be at one with Nature every day

13. Being nude, you cannot wear a tie.

*No rhyme: this line is self-sufficient.  

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Challenge of the day

Challenge of the day: write a clean, inoffensive, family friendly limerick beginning with the following two lines:

Delvene's delightful declivities
Had some rather alarming proclivities...

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

From the 10 habits of highly effective Business-Bonobos...

... 11. The Business-Bonobo knows the value of money well. As soon as he or she comes into a little money, they roll all over it to ensure their pheromones are all over their savings. Also acceptable: pissing, spitting, shitting on the money. This way, potential competitors are deterred from taking a share.

12. A Business-Bonobo is never without their banana telephone. That way, they can stay in touch at all times with other Business-Bonobos. Also, they're good for snacks.

13. Work disputes are easily resolved. Sex. Also, disputes with technology. Sex. Also sexual feelings for fellow department members. Sex, obviously. Also H & S disputes. Sex. Sex. Sex....

Today, I observed a sporty girl bear an oversized test tube containing what looked like water with what appeared to be pond scum in the top of it

Today, I observed a sporty girl bear an oversized test tube containing what looked like water with what appeared to be pond scum in the top of it. She took a pointlessly big plastic straw, and proceeded to stir the appeared-to-be-pond-scum into the what-looked-like-water, and then plonked the straw right in and took a big contented slurp.

Our interest in health has given the world some very disturbing foods in the past hundred odd years, but none, I submit, quite so disturbing as a test tube full of appears-to-be-pond-scum on top of what-looks-like-water. The adage 'If it tastes good, it can't be good for you' these days seems to submit itself to some flexibility these days: 'If it tastes yuck and looks disgusting, it must be brilliant for you', perhaps. Certainly, I never thought I would see the day when people would present themselves in front of me drinking gigantic beakers full of pond scum. What happened to friendly old men drinking unknown substances out of brown paper bags, for heavens' sakes?

I blame Tony Abbott. Or Malcolm Turnbull. Or Daniel Andrews. Or whoever it is one blames for such things at the present time. Whatever. I blame them all.

Thursday, January 07, 2016

Innocent interpretations of internet acronyms

MILF - Man, I Like Flamingos!

PRON - Pickles R Okay, Neville!

IWSN - Isn't Wilma So Nice?

PORN - Pickles, Or Radishes - Neat!

WTF -  Why, That's Fine!

NIFOC - Now, I'm Filigreeing Our Crochet.

TMIY - Thanks, Mate! Igloos! Yay!

WTFF - Wendy,  Those Fantastic Flowers!

Thursday, December 31, 2015

My new year's resolution

To open a twitter account and make only one tweet of one character's length, consisting of an obsolete punctuation mark, and a spelling mistake.

Happy new year.

Curses! Spoiled again!

A couple of weeks ago I was having a chat with some folks around the topic of movie spoilers. One guy was saying he hated spoilers, did everything he could to avoid them; another was saying she didn't mind spoilers at all actually, no problem with them. My position was slightly different: hey, sometimes spoilers are the only good thing about a movie; I will actively go out of my way to avoid a movie and read the spoilers instead. Case in point, the upcoming Batman vs Superman movie, or even more case in point, the never-ending series of Star Wars sequels.

These films present me with a curious paradox: I see the previews, I read about everyone else's excitement, and as a result I get all excited myself and want to know how they end. But I find I have no desire, nonetheless, to see the films. That would be a waste of precious hours in my life; the carpe diem poets advise man to seize the day, to Gather ye rosebuds while ye may/ old time is still a-flying - not Go to a bloody movie theatre for two hours and sit through another tedious collection of special effects just so you know how it all ends. You don't actually have to endure your way through to the end of Star Wars episode 1-3 and Darth Vader/Anakin's hilariously anti-climactic "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" to realise that, aside from filling in a few plot details that people could probably guess anyway, the films are devoid of any artistic interest whatsoever. In fact, Star Wars Episode Whogivesa or Batman vs Superman are hardly movies at all; they are plot twists mistaking themselves for movies.

So to the plot summary on the Wikipedia page I go, then. My favourite part of the plot summary would have to be.... I'm not sure, but my least favourite part would have to be the fact that they've (oh come ON don't tell me you didn't know I was going to include some spoilers in this post) INVENTED ANOTHER BLOODY DEATH STAR FOR THE FILM, I mean it may just be a plot twist mistaking itself for a proper cinematic experience but the least it could be is a NEW damned plot twist. (It's not even original in its unoriginality; Lucas reinvented the Death Star in Return of the Jedi). The most amusing would have to be the fact that evil kid Ren/Ben whatever appears to be having ongoing chats with his dead Dark Side mentor Darth Vader. (Not sure about this last part - they keep on fidding with the Wiki plot summary).

It would be amusing to go on in this way and review the plot summaries of all the crappy films that I don't want to see but want to know the ending too, like Batman vs Superman, but its plot synopsis is still too coy because the stupid non-film hasn't come out yet. I'm guessing neither of them wins. So there goes my career as a Wikipedia plot summary reviewer, then.

Oh, by the way, SPOILERS! This blog post contains SPOILERS! Did I do that right guys?

Monday, December 28, 2015

A DISQUISITION concerning the ETIQUETTE of FARTING

We were talking of farts, Thassalius, Quintalian and I, since it was not possible to do the reverse, and anyway, it is our custom to deliberate upon important matters before puffing contentedly on our evening pipes.

"I maintain," said Quintalian, "that farting is a way of marking territory by humans, just as animals mark their territory by means of odour. Observe, for instance, the dog, thoughtfully leaving his or her essence upon a tree, so that other dogs may KNOW they hath been there. Consider, too, the ways of the bee; who, in swarming season, is guided by the scents of the scouts who have gone before her, and thereby establishes a safe new hive for her sisters and brothers. So, too, we may draw an analogy with the human animal, whereby they, in their natural environment - such as the desk at their office, for instance, or the elevator they are sharing with their boss - mark their territory, perhaps unconsciously, by releasing a smell, a natural pheromone, into the environment, that will prove attractive to their family, and repellent to their enemies."

"A judicious observation, Quintalian", said I. "It is certainly true that my own farts frequently smell pleasant, whereas those of my enemies - who are many - or those who do not know me - who are sadly more numerous still - are abhorrent to my organs of olfactory apprehension. And yet, I find that the universal social contract is to deplore the practice of flatulence, wherever it may occur. What sayest thou, Thassalius?"

"It is certainly not a practice that I find to be impolite", murmured Thassalius. "For, wherein do true manners lie? In not giving offence to our neighbour, our friend, by giving false witness unto them - or, in being generous to them in their needs, and courteous to them in their wishes. But I find the practice of farting plays no part in this; for what one man finds disturbing, the other finds no trouble with; and what is of so little consequence can give no real offence. 'Tis but a bubble, Sir!"

"It would indeed prove to be a fit subject for an ESSAY, PAPER, or DISQUISITION, Thassalius," I said.

"Perhaps we may look forward to it further in your own productions, Palpatius", put in Quintalian. "I, for one, find it easier to avoid giving even the appearance of offence to my fellow humans; I wait until I am out of their company before letting NATURE take the air."

(It struck me hereabouts, of course, that whereas humans may make a great show of taking offence, other animals, more sensitive to the aromas around them, may already be well aware of the digestive productions of HOMO SAPIENS. Would not, say, bees regard the gaseous emissions of humans in a benevolent light, as one of the many fragrances of NATURE, just as humans regarded their own hive smell as an example of the universal goodness? If I had had more time to frame these thoughts into words I may well have said them to Quintalian, but here Thassalius came in with another striking thought.)

"Indeed," cried Thassalius, "I frequently regard the farts of others as a compliment. For what more simple way could there be to make expression of your comradely trust and the familial bond than to give way to an expression of wind in the company of others?"

"How true!" I enthused. "Thassalius, thou hast made a great discovery! And, paradoxically, does not one find even amongst the most frivolous of companions - school boys and the like - a desire to bond through their mutual flatulence, even by producing the odour that will be the most repugnant of sensation to one another? But who knows where this laudable desire for mutual betterment may lead them? Through their dedication to finding the most potent herbs, the most odiferous saps, the most productive of the plants and beans, that they may not - unbidden - make a Great Scientific Discovery?"

This being said, the three of us, done with our deliberating and asseverating and cogitating, drew out our pipes as one, and let the clouds wreathe up around us and ascend into the heavens above.

HERE ENDETH THE DISQUISITION


Friday, December 25, 2015

Christmas doggerel #2

I am a sexy Santa in my sexy Santa suit
I looked me in the mirror and I thought I looked quite cute
I hop into your stockings girls every year or so
Some like it when I do that but some say I'm just a 
HO HO HO! 

Christmas doggerel

Doggerel. An ancient verse form. It's just like a villanelle. Written by a dog.

Dear Santa Claus
My Christmas wish
Is nothing more
Than an old dead fish. 

Friday, December 18, 2015

The Twelve Days of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding

Time for a Christmas sing along, kids! You know the tune! It's that old favourite

The Twelve Days of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding


On the first day of why do we even call it Christmas Christ was just a myth and he wasn't even born then and anyway it's actually a pagan festival but it's all about consumption and greed and white colonialism in the context of late capitalism really please pass the pudding 
My true love sent to me 
A greeting card.

On the second day... 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the third day... 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the fourth day... 
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the fifth day... 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the sixth day... 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the seventh day... 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the eighth day... 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.

On the ninth day... 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity 
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the tenth day... 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the eleventh day... 
A 11.30 in the morning sleep in 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


On the twelfth day... 
Twelve people who you love and adore and only want the best for and who really make you laugh at a glorious Christmas lunch 
A 11.30 in the morning sleep in 
A ten day holiday in France 
Nine delightful chocolate fudges 
Eight lovely colours on that gift shirt your mother gave to you 
Seven wonderful craft beers at the Christmas party with friends 
Six relaxing days on the beach 
Five gorgeous renaissance portrayals of the Nativity
Four long lost family members 
Three feelings of warmth and tenderness with work friends 
A pair of socks 
And a greeting card.


Tuesday, December 15, 2015

NASA launches first Creme Caramel into space after holding a dinner party and accidentally stuffing up the dessert course

NASA has launched the first creme caramel into space after holding a dinner party and accidentally stuffing up the dessert course.

"The initial stages were promising," said NASA spokesman John Spokesman, "But then it stuffed up in the oven when water bubbled into the pot, ruining the custard mixture. But the launch itself went really, really well, and our dinner party guests made a makeshift dessert on the spot by toasting marshmallows in the blast of the rockets".

The creme caramel, currently rocketing past the moon, carries with it a capsule with messages for any potential alien species it may encounter, such as "never make this bloody thing!" and "It's not worth the bother!"

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Ewsome.

I didn't make it to the Dan today (insert suitably melancholy emoticon here) but I did just perform this impromptu poem:

Now I have to do my business in my business-doing place.
Now I am doing my business. This is my business-doing face*.
Now I have taken my business out of the business case.
Now I have done my business in the business-doing place.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Or should that be Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww?

*What's the emoticon for that, do you reckon? 

May your day be nourished and fructified by the presence of this ASCII sperm made out of commas

It has come to my attention that a search of the internet for an ASCII sperm image made out of commas will be unsuccessful. This is my attempt to rectify this gap in our cultural capital.


Behold : the ASCII comma sperm.

Monday, November 30, 2015

In the beginning was the code

Are selfies really real?
Who's the I behind the Pod?
What's the G in OMG?
Is it Gosh or is it God?

Do we float in cyberspace,
Random bits and bytes and blogs,
Are we acronyms and coding
Amidst pics of cats and dogs?

As we peer into your Facebook,
What's the status to your Status?
Has it gone the way of MySpace?
Do you know but won't update us?

In the far far distant future,
Our accounts long since deleted,
Will someone leave a comment?
Will we be (perhaps) retweeted?

We are pixels built on pixels,
But still I hear the call
To find that perfect YouTube
That will explain it all.

On this day in history....

This day, 30 November 2015, marks the 100th anniversary of the official passing of the Women's Mansplaination Act in Australian Parliament. This important bill gave women everywhere the right to listen to men giving fulsome explanations of things they already knew. Isn't history great?

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Rumours that Malcolm Turnbull is actually drinking cocktails of artistic tears out of a golden diamond-encrusted beaker have been unsubstantiated

WTFF News - Australian Government announces the creation of a new fund of artistic tears
The Australian Government has announced the creation of a new fund of artists' tears, in an attempt to boost their support amongst the artistic community

"The National Endowment of Artistic Grief, or NEAG, will revitalise the artistic community, providing them with plentiful supply of delicious grief, torment, agony, and pain for the years ahead", said Mr Turnbull in a statement yesterday, adding that "this precious chalice of depression, desolation and despair showed that the Coalition government was the true friend of artists in Australia."

However, Bill Shorten hit back this morning, claiming that "this fresh supply of artistic tears is taking away from the pre-existing Australian Foundation of Artistic Sadness, and proves that once again the conservatives are ripping off valuable artists." He added: "If elected, a Labor Government will ensure all Artistic Tear stocks are returned to AFAS, along with the addition of fresh grants of sadness for our long-suffering artists."

The statements by Turnbull and Shorten were met with dismay by the artistic community, with artistic leaders sobbing plentifully when asked for responses to the new National Endowment of Artistic Grief policy.

"It's not enough!" claimed one artist.
"It's just too much!" claimed another.
A third artist asked for handkerchiefs.
A fourth artist said: "These are not true Australian tears. I have it on good authority that these tears were made in European sweatshops by underpaid artists. Why aren't we paying Australian artists to cry on our behalf?" before bursting into presumably demonstrative tears.

Rumours that Malcolm Turnbull is actually drinking cocktails of artistic tears out of a golden diamond-encrusted beaker have been unsubstantiated at time of going to press.

However, when contacted by the media, he did make slobbering sounds while licking his lips.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Punkt!

One iott or one tytle of the lawe shall not scape. - Matthew 5:18, the Tindale Bible 
"I like the idea of a whole class devoted to dots", I said in my German class the other day. Everyone laughed; they all thought I was joking. (I usually am). Actually, I was being serious. (I usually am. It's possible to be both).

It often comes down to a matter of the little dots and spots around the letters and numbers, I find. Every alphabet must have a use for those teeny-weeny dots that hover above or under or around the other letters, whether they be a full stop or an accent or a dash between the letters or those familiar spots hanging above the lower case 'i' and the lower case 'j'. 'Tittle' is the lovely technical term for these dots. What business do they have, defying gravity above their letters, anyway? (What business do I have, for that matter, thinking of the letters as standing upright? Books are often meant to be held more horizontally - surely the letters are depicted as horizontal?) And then there are the little dots below the question mark and the exclamation mark - ought we to expect them to fall away or to one day be helplessly crushed beneath the weight of the respective marks as gravity asserts itself?

It is possible to derive an endless amount of amusement from a couple of little dots on a page or a screen; however, the Germans seem to do it better than most of us. Not only do they have all the usual full stops and hyphens and tittles, but they have the semi-inverse colon, better known to you and me as the umlaut. You know, those two little dots above most of the vowels. My enthusiasm for umlauts is immoderate in the extreme, even though I cannot ever quite remember when to put them in*; however, it's in the matter of numbers that they manage to really confuse everyone.

Whereas we would signify a decimal place with a sensible dot (period, full stop, tittle-without-a-letter-to-bother-it, or, in German, punkt), the practice in die Deutschland is to pop in a comma in that same spot. Meanwhile, in the middle of a long number, where we would tend to place in a comma before every three digits for clarity, the Germans mostly don't bother - either spacing the digits apart, or putting in a - well, I'm afraid to say, a punkt. Got that? So where we use a full stop, the Germans use a comma, and where we use a comma, the Germans use a space or a full stop. Oh, and another substitute I hadn't been aware of: our symbol for division - '÷' - which Google informs me is known as 'the obelus' - is replaced, in German, by a colon (or a retrograde umlaut, or a retrograde-semi-inverse-colon**).

Full stops! Commas! Umlauts! Colons! Periods! What with all these blots and blobs and dots and dashes splotting and clashing into one another, it's a wonder we don't see them getting into one another's way and the punkts start groping the tittles and an asterisk and obelus get into the magic potion again and begin causing merry havoc in the marginalia. Anyway, that's about all I wanted to say, but while we're on the subject of dots and dashes and punctuation, can I just put in a word for spotty animals? There's nothing nicer than a well-punctuated animal, I find, and did you know, it's not just spotty coats many animals have; both our cats have a dot in the roof of their mouth. Occasionally when they yawn I see it, and I can't help but murmur to myself: "Hmm, yes. Good punkt. Very good punkt indeed."

*I suppose I could just start off by putting a couple of umlauts at the top of the page and letting the letters come in later. 

**I may have made some of these terms up, but they are totally accurate. 

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

College students denounce college as cultural appropriation

YALE, MONDAY: College students in the US have denounced college as cultural appropriation, taking to the streets to protest against themselves.

"We hereby call on ourselves to denounce ourselves for appropriating this ancient Latvian tradition and thus perpetuating systemic racism," said the spokesman for the students, before the protesters renounced college immediately.

The protesters went on to protest thought as cultural appropriation, and when asked how exactly it was cultural appropriation, they replied, "I don't know, I gave up thinking ages ago."

Friday, November 20, 2015

An argument against self-expression

An argument against self-expression
It's time for keeping out of touch.
It's time for saying less. 
To say too little, not too much - 
Repress, repress, repress. 

"Let's talk about it." Or: let's not. 
Besides, I must confess
I'm never sure what feeling's what - 
Repress, repress, repress. 

Don't talk. You'll give too much away.
Let other people guess - 
You think too deep for words, they'll say - 
Repress, repress, repress. 

Maintain your peace. Be almost still,
A gentle soft caress
Of fair winds on a distant hill - 
Repress. 

Prior

Maddy Prior.

Prior Maddy.


Maddy, priory.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Etiquette for dogs

Big dogs: when sniffing a little dog's bum, allow a grace period so the little dog has time to swirl around and give your own bum the appreciation it deserves.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Contra Star Wars

Oh, sod off with your Dark Side and your Light Saber and your Yoda says something profound with customary mixed up syntax. Sod off with your epic mythologising of deep import and your important myths of epic significance and your storm-bloody-troopers. Whatever happened to Star Wars: the missing years? EPISODE  1003: Luke Has A Really Bad Cold And Uses The Force To Make A Cup Of Coffee Because He Can't Be Arsed Getting Out Of Bed. EPISODE 2406: A Stormtrooper Is Really Pissed Off Because He Hears This Persistent John Williams Theme In His Ears Every Time He Marches Down The Corridors Of His Imperial Craft To Go To The Toilet. EPISODE 991: That Alien Jazz Band That Plays That One Time Are Invited To Play A Set On A New Death Star That Has Just Been Opened As A Tourist Resort But They Have To Turn It Down Because They Have To See The Doctor On That Date.  No, I have no interest in seeing the latest episode in which the Empire Strikes Back Yet Again and things will probably all end alright anyway. Yes, I'll probably end up seeing the stupid thing anyway. Baaaaaarghh!

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

A medicament predicament

Just how do you make a chicken eat medicine*? Normally it's easy to feed a chicken; they eat anything. Though strangely, an exception to this rule develops when you feed them medicine: they won't eat that. It's not that they dislike the taste of the medicine - they'll take a few pecks and then leave it aside.

So, you mix the medicine in with anything. All of a sudden, the chicken develops another strange aversion: they'll eat anything they're not supposed to eat.

A solution presents itself: why not mix the medicine in with anything they're not supposed to eat? There's plenty of that around the house, from cat biscuits through to bowls of breakfast porridge. So you mix the medicine in with that. And then, contrarily, the chicken will develop a taste for anything that happens to be beside anything they're not supposed to eat. (Perhaps it is terrified by the paradox of being presented with anything they're not supposed to eat and then being allowed to eat it.)

Then, another possibility arises: company! There's nothing that excites a chicken to eat better than the company of others. In that company, the chicken will quickly scramble to eat as much as it can, excited in greed by the rapacity of its friends, and envious of any small crumb that should make its way down their beak. So, you call all the chickens to the back door, and turn the chicken out with its flock and lay down the medicine there. A fluster of feathers descends upon the food and you observe the results with pleasure. Surely, now the chook will digest its prescribed elixir! And with dismay you watch every chook but the chook you want to eat the medicine, actually eat the medicine.

I ask you. Chickens. They're almost as contrary as bloggers.

*It's just a calcium supplement to ensure sturdy eggs, chicken lovers! Nothing to worry about! 

Friday, October 30, 2015

The Adamite mystery

Researchers create blackest material ever made (Phys.org)—A team of researchers at King Abdulla University of Science and Technology in Saudi Arabia has made the blackest material ever created by human beings.
It doesn't say in the story, but the blackest material ever made has an Antipodean link: it came from the fibres of the clothes of our very own Phillip Adams.

It has long been known that the monochromatic vests of the mellifluous radio presenter and newspaper writer suck all light, heat, and hope into their gravitational vortex. They are woven together from the finest strands made out of the sorrows of true devotees to the Socialist cause, and have been studied for years by scientists as one of the great wonders of nature. Astrophysicists have expressed especial interest in the inklike nature of Adams' clothing, as they seem to display a rare local case of the galactic phenomena known as 'Black Holes'; however, it is feared that if anyone got too close to them, they might go beyond the Event Horizon and be sucked into their naked singularity, and no-one wants that. It is rumoured that this is how Harold Holt got lost.

At any rate, Adams' stygian garments are a true wonder of nature and a site of national beauty, right up there with that big hole in the ground they made a horror film about once, and the medium-sized rock where that film about the schoolgirls disappearing happened, and that largish-sized desert in the middle of it all where those two explorers died. Advance Australia Obsidian!

Do not look into his eyes, or all is lost.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Hi-tech home employment

In my house, I have two cardboard boxes in two separate rooms. Occasionally, I will scribble something on a piece of paper and put it in one box. Then, I will rush into the other room, take a piece of paper out of the second box, and scribble the same thing on that.

I like to call these boxes my Faux Machines.

Friday, October 23, 2015

The adventures of Frau Umlaut and the bad case of diaresis

It's the first night of German language classes, and we are all about to learn the two principal grammatical cases of the language, the Awkward, and the Incorrect. The basic set up is this: a bunch of students sit in the room and wonder who the hell everyone else is and why are they here again; and then they get up and attempt to communicate this to one another in a language that nobody understands at all.

There is a teacher who, for the purposes of this blog post, I will call Frau Umlaut. Her part is simple: she just stands up there and introduces the topic for the day in the aforementioned language, which, as also aforementioned, nobody understands. Sometimes she compliments or criticises students in the same language, but how could we tell which is which? And there is a football (why a football?) which we all toss around in a big circle, and take turns introducing ourselves while we hold it. Hello, I am called good! My name is Melbourne, and I live in Tim! And you?

That was three weeks ago. (See? in the past but I was talking in the present tense - I totally do know grammar!). But by far my favourite moment in German classes happened two weeks ago, when, at the end of another exercise in the Awkward and Incorrect cases, another student who I'll call Ess-Tset and I passed accidentally into the third important German case - Just Plain Confused. After exchanging as much irrelevant and pointless information we could in a language neither of us really could understand, Ess-Tset cast around for the right words: "Many bitte!" Which translates to: "Much please!" Though, thinking about it at the time, I realised the German word for thanks had gone right out of my mind, too. (Danke. It's Danke.)

Now, if you'll excuse me - I have a bad case of diaeresis and I have to go to the toilet.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Proety

Lines written after seeing a headline in a local newspaper

Action group wants facts! 
Facts group wants action. 
Faction calls for tax. 
Group wants satisfaction. 

Action Faction acts. 
Hot Faction-Faction action! 
Who wants action facts? 
The Faction-Faction-Faction. 

Action group wants fiction! 
Faction acts on group. 
Group wants facts on faction. 
Faction head goes floop

Sunday, October 11, 2015

An essay demonstrating that cake is better than biscuits

INTRODUCTION
Cake is better than biscuits. I maintain this, having had extensive experience eating both cake and biscuits, singly and alongside one another for comparative effect. Despite the obvious truth of this maxim, it is but poorly understood in Society At Large. In what follows, I wish to offer a small corrective to this vast general ignorance, in the form of an extensive essay to demonstrate the verifiable and undeniable nature of the proposition that 'cake is better than biscuits'. I will do so PHYSICALLY, taking into account all the dimensions and durations and capacities and velocities and what not; I will do so SYMBOLOGICALLY, with reference to star charts and gematria and so on; and I will do so SUBJECTIVELY, drawing on my own extensive experience. You're welcome.

1. PHYSICS
The superiority of cake over biscuits is clearly demonstrable when we consider that a cake is typically far larger than a biscuit. We may consider its heft, and we may contemplate its satisfying weight, as we hold it in our hand prior to eating it. Such consideration excites the desire and thus, when we actually do eat cake, our pleasure is all the greater. Of course, we may consider a biscuit in the same way too, but there is much less of it for us to appreciate, and therefore, the appreciation when it goes into our mouth is much less.

Biscuits, of course, ought to be appreciated not as one phenomenon, but en masse; here, however, they present us with another difficulty. Though we may have many biscuits, they all taste the same. Cake, however, is a much more variable phenomenon: one rarely has two cakes the same in the house. Therefore, though there are less cakes, typically, than biscuits, they regularly excite the palate with a wide array of flavours, and impress us with their differential nature.

Also, cakes are soft and cuddly, whereas biscuits are much harder and less susceptible to cuddling.*

2. SYMBOLS
Cake, unlike biscuits, is typically round. Biscuits often aspire to a round shape but have this Platonic roundness regularly interfered by crumbly bits and splodges and the like, as they are not often made in a mould. Cakes, as they more closely approximate the geometric symbol of perfection, are clearly better than biscuits in this respect.

It is also obvious that cake is the crowning glory of many parties; whereas no party yet concluded with the triumphant and grandiose arrival of a plateful of biscuits. As the saying goes, the cherry on top of the table with the icing on top of it is the cake, and that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

3. SUBJECTIVE IMPRESSIONS
Cake is also a greater phenomenon than biscuits for a very simple, undeniable reason: I am eating cake right now, and not biscuits. It is a truth universally acknowledged that the cake of Right Now is better than the biscuits of Whenever The Hell I'm Going To Make Them Next. As this is so obvious and undeniable, no further argument need be entered into here.

RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION
In conclusion, cake is better than something something something OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

*Not that one regularly cuddles cakes or biscuits, but this ought to be set down here as a favour to those who are considering cuddling various items of food. 

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

How to debate hypothetical vegans

Earlier today, down at the shops, just as I was simultaneously buying an ice cream (Cornetto, thanks for asking) and planning a daredevil escape from the environmentalists walking up and down the street carrying clipboards (crossing the road while they were looking the other way), a devious plan struck me.

The plan was this: I would buy one of the environmentalists - an ice cream.

No no, hear me out! The conversation, as I imagined it in my head, would take place something like this:

ENVIRONMENTALIST: Hi, can I speak to you for just a min.... 

TIM: Would you like an ice cream? 

A devastating counter-attack, I think you'll agree. Of course, being environmentalists, I realised as I thought about this stratagem, they would probably have to say...

ENVIRONMENTALIST: Oh no thanks, I'm vegan. But how lovely of you to ask! 

TIM: OH WELL I WILL HAVE TO HAVE IT FOR MYSELF THEN HOW SAD*. 

Brilliant, c'est non? But things were about to get very hairy, I realised, in this hypothetical situation:

ENVIRONMENTALIST: Great anyway so on this pamphlet I have here....

But don't worry! My defence is rock solid!

TIM: Mm mmm MMMM THIS ICE CREAM IS SO GOOD! YOU WOULD LOVE IT IF YOU WERE ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY OF IT! OH MY! MMMMM! 

But then, as I was thinking about this pleasing scenario, it suddenly struck me that maybe my planning and scheming was all wrong. What if the environmentalist actually did want the ice cream? And stood there - eating it - in front of me?** True - they wouldn't be able to talk to me anymore about whatever it is they were talking about. But they would be eating my ice cream!

Outwitted by hypothetical non-vegan environmentalists. Well, that was a first.

So in the end I just bought one fucking ice cream and nicked across the fucking road while they were looking the other way.

*cf Psalm 23, v. 5: "Thou preparedest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.... my cup runneth over". 
**Psalm 23, v. 5 again! 

Sunday, October 04, 2015

Sunday poem

Half a league, half a league, 
Half a league backwards,
Boldly they rode and well
Out of the jaws of hell,
Stormed back from shot and shell,
Floundered and blundered,
Ours not to do or - no,
Maybe we will not go,
See you - next year or so,
Rode the five hundred. 

- from the Discharge of the Light Brigade, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Saturday, October 03, 2015

Lines about the Grand Final that don't go anywhere in particular...

It's AFL Grand Final time and I haven't been this excited since Phar Lap won the Ashes against the South Sydney Rabbitohs.

But we'll get to Tiddlywinks in a moment.

Football! The game that turns the champions into men! Or occasionally women, depending on their gender preferences.

The three stages of football: someone's going to win! Someone's winning! Someone has won!

(But lining up for a big kick - do footballers ever get an itchy nose?)

The end (told you I wasn't going anywhere in particular).
Email: timhtrain - at - yahoo.com.au

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Me person. Live in world. Like stuff. Need job. Need BRAINS! (DROOLS IN THE MANNER OF ZOMBIES) Ergggggh ...