Will Type For Food

Avatar brief

2010-01-01T21:37:00.000+11:00

I saw Avatar. I liked it.

Sports I could get into

2009-12-31T17:26:00.004+11:00

Mountain sitting

Fruit bowling

Cardboard boxing

Indoor track and field

Synchronised snoring.

Against the hill

2009-12-28T21:38:00.003+11:00

A hill is a difficult and annoying thing to climb: this is what I was meditating as I climbed a very tall, very steep hill yesterday afternoon. Perhaps, if I had been younger, I would have found the climbing of the hill slightly less difficult and annoying, but it still would have been exceedingly difficult and annoying thing to do. I do not, as a rule, like hills.

Some might say that the hill should never have been invented. I don't know about that. I treat hills as a fact of nature, and the facts of nature are often difficult and annoying. I have been lucky, myself, to grow up in an exceedingly flat country that presents no surprises, hill wise. Balranald was on the Hay Plains, an accurate name in more ways than one, but at least it never possessed any of those frustratingly uneven and lumpy bits of ground that necessitate the sweaty climbing up one side and undignified hurtling down the other.

Some might maintain, in defence of the hill, that the adventure in climbing to the top is rewarded by the view attained once reaching the top. However, it must be pointed out that that view would be so much easier and more readily seen if the hill was not there in the first place: it obstructs rather than makes available a view. The invention of that man made hill, the skyscraper, at least represents a slight improvement on the natural contours of the geographic hill, thrown up as some kind of geological razzamatazz, the fancy of some preposterous and mad god. Thanks to those handy little glassy holes in skyscrapers, you are able to see into, if not right through, them: they've got that one up on their natural hilly counterparts.

Why do we have hills at all, though? Life would certainly be better without the hill: imagine the calming flat contours of the world without the hill: just a single, level plain stretching in all directions, with nothing impeding the view, and nothing presenting anything more than ordinary effort to the casual or serious traveller. Ideally, the view would be grey. It is, really, the perfect egalitarian dream. It's not particularly happy, but at least it would require less effort. Some might argue that hills are picturesque, and could improve the view a little bit. I suppose that is true; hills are so picturesque that they would make excellent pictures. They could be hung up, here and there, to improve the landscape without, you know, actually needing to be climbed.

I climbed the hill yesterday. I climbed the hill again today. I shall probably climb the hill again tomorrow. And, as I climbed the hill, I could not help but thinking of the point of hills, and why such frustrating things should exist that we need to climb down them only to climb up them all over again once the exercise is done.

La la la la la la la la fa

2009-12-23T09:05:00.002+11:00

Reverse Christmas Carol

Happy year new! Christmas merry!
I hope Claus Santa's gifts were nice,
And all your days are pleasant very,

With Cake Christmas and jam cherry,
Nog-egg, Roll Swiss (one more slice).
Happy year new! Christmas merry!

Glass your charges with some sherry,
Toast the year old once, thrice, twice -
May all your days be pleasant very!

Be heart warm of, extra shary,
Give cheese Brie to all the mice -
Happy year new! Christmas merry!

May your year next be extra cheery,
A pie-fruit-spice with extra spice,
And all your days be pleasant very;

May your run cup over nearly:
Too much goodness will suffice -
For a happy year new! Christmas merry!
May all your days be pleasant very!

What a horribly sentimental maybe-probably-almost-but-not-quite-definitely-last-post-of-the-year. Have a great Christmas everyone.

Penultimate post, in which a purchase is proposed

2009-12-23T07:18:00.004+11:00

I'm toddling off for Christmas this afternoon, but I shouldn't go without mentioning that I've got a new zine out. It has poems by me, the Baron, and Michael Reynolds, as well as assorted other musings and artworks. Like to get a copy? You can buy it, online, at Etsy. Also, there are ~~five~~ four copies at Sticky Comics in the centre of Melbourne, though they close on Christmas Eve, right up to the new year, apparently.

Why men can't read maps, or drive, or do anything, really

2009-12-22T10:51:00.010+11:00

The other day I was driving to Coldstream. This is how I did it: I sat in the left-hand seat while the Baron turned the engine on, maneuvered the wheel, pressed the various pedals that sent the car into a non-static state, flicked various switches on and off, steered around, over, under, or through various obstacles, and drove. I suppose you could say that that technically meant that the Baron was driving, and you'd technically be right. Anyway, I'm surprised at how simple driving was, and I'm looking forward to driving again in the near future.

The reason we were going to Coldstream was this: to give my brother his birthday presents - a cooking pot, a Larry David DVD, and some chocolate beer. We had the DVD so my brother would have something to cook in the cookpot, and we got the beer so that he'd have something to drink with it. We're logical like that. (I can't quite account for the beer being chocolate, that was pretty out there.)

I should mention that I had, in my lap, a small book. Another advantage of driving, of course, is that you get to read on the way. Unless you have to steer, that is. It's unfortunate that the book was a street directory, but that's life. Until I took up driving, you know, I used to think that streets were simple straight objects that took you to where you wanted to go. I used to think that you'd just aim the car, and keep on driving until something got in the way, and then you'd stop, and you'd be there. That's generally how it worked when I walked, anyway, and I almost never got lost - or at least, I never lost myself, which was the main thing, although sometimes the world around me got a bit confused.

Anyway, according to this street directory, the streets were anything but straight with us. They'd pootle along, in their streetly fashion, and then all of a sudden change their names. They'd loop around and back like tangled pieces of string for no particular reason. I'm one of those people who has to actually turn the street directory on its side to get the orientation right, so on some of these streets I was having to turn it upside down, turn my own head sideways, then meditate until I had achieved a Zen-like state of bliss, and then attempt to read the map. Pretty soon I had started doing advanced tai chi positions in the car, and I still wasn't sure whether I got it exactly right.

For instance, we'd come to roundabouts in the middle of the street, and I'd look in the map and they wouldn't be there. Some of the streets in the street directory would be orange, but I'd look for the orange streets in the actual street, and they'd remain their usual colour of asphalt grey. I mean, this was outrageous - how could we tell which were the orange streets if the people who built the streets didn't read the instructions on the street directory properly? At other times, it seemed clear that the people who wrote the street directory clearly didn't take in mind the people on the street. For instance, just at the intersection of X___ Street, and V_____ Street, a kid ran across the road, and it didn't say anything about that on the street directory. And another thing: it wasn't very far at all from Thornbury to Coldstream on the map, just a few pages or so, but when we drove it was almost as if we drove for kilometres and kilometres, and still didn't get there. Amazing!

But what ho, this driving lark is quite fun really. We'll be driving all over the countryside in a couple of days, and here's how I imagine it will go: we'll open up the windows of the car, and I will toss my hair in the winnowing wind while clutching a cigarette in my cool and poised fingers, as we speed far far away from civilisation. While the Baron drives. I can't see anything wrong with this plan.

The reasoning for the seasoning

2009-12-20T23:19:00.002+11:00

Problem: we seem to spend so much time rushing around doing things for Christmas that we don't have any time left over to do all those things that we want to do, ie, waste time.

Proposal: We simply take Christmas, the day that we do all the rushing around before; and swap it around with Boxing Day, a day which we don't do any rushing in preparation for, whatsoever. That way, we have an extra day to spend time on before Christmas, wasting time, and therefore we have got all the wasting time out of the way by Christmas time.

Difficulty with proposal: we'd probably end up rushing around on Boxing Day anyway, and spend all that time that we should have been wasting our time buying the presents, etc, that we should have bought beforehand. Maybe we could solve this by having an extra day for doing nothing after Christmas anyway. 'Triangulation Day', perhaps?

Further difficulty: I'm not quite sure what would happen to Christmas Eve. Presumably it would go just before Boxing Day, but then we'd have to call it Christmas Eve Eve, which could become confusing.

Although my idea has its difficulties, I suggest we send it off to the governmental department in charge of Christmas right away, so we can get this up and running before next year - perhaps regulated by an appropriate civil servants agency.

The department of redefinition

2009-12-20T23:02:00.003+11:00

peccadillo

Old Meaning
peccadillo: a petty sin or offence; a trifling fault. [Spanish pecadillo, diminutive of pecado, from Latin peccātum a sin]

New Meaning
peccadillo: fondness for kissing armadillos [Sample sentence: "Don't worry if you saw Martin smooching that armoured jungle beast. He has his little peccadillos."]

Santa's spreadsheet

2009-12-20T21:12:00.003+11:00

Santa also has pie charts on the naughty and nice ratings of girls and boys, a print out of macros and formulas he needs to record changes in details about particular gift recipients, and regular meetings with his little helpers which help him maintain and update his extensive databases and timetable planners for his yearly journey.

Factual, if not actual

2009-12-18T17:40:00.004+11:00

Copenhagen, eh? That sounds like a lot of fun. Let's see how events have ended up over there, why don't we?

Summary of events at the Copenhagen Summit.

Day One: Copenhagen is buzzing! Delegates begin to arrive. Emissions for the planes are offset by various schemes involving stock markets, private investment schemes, forestry subsidies, and moonshine. African leaders stage a walk out, but then realise that other world leaders haven't yet arrived, and take the rest of the day off. Day Two: Delegates eagerly begin to set out plans for future tensions and disagreements which they will use to break down further talks on the matter. Day Three: African leaders stage a walk out, to the applause and mutual satisfaction of all the delegates. Protesters stand outside in the Copenhagen cold singing their favourite Christmas carols, 'We are all guilty! Guilty! Guilty! The world's going to die!' Day Four: African Leaders stage a dramatic walk-in, causing uproar at the talks. Matters are resolved only when it is discovered that they walk in only to be able to stage a walk out again. Meanwhile, outside, protesters, having got their lungs ready, progress to singing polyphonic Bach chorales and seven-part fugues. Day Five: A protester holds up a protest banner that is actually witty, pithy, and pointed, but it is in an obscure Ural-Altaic dialect only spoken by him and his grandfather. He promptly dies of embarrassment. Phelim McAleer dresses up in a polar bear suit to make a point, but nobody can hear the point he is making because the polar bear suit gets in the way. In the conference, rousing applause greets a keynote speech by the delegate from Albania, until the other delegates discover that the Albanian delegate was just saying, in heavily accented German, "Please. I need to get to the toilet. Can you tell me where it is?" Day Six: A polar bear gets dressed up in a Phelim McAleer suit, and hands out pamphlets in a bid to alert people of the plight of endangered fat middle-aged political documentary makers, and how they could be affected by the climate crisis. Uproar at the conference as delegates discover that the carbon offsets for their plane flights could themselves have caused extra carbon emissions, and they agonise over how to offset their offsets, and, for that matter, offset their offsets offsets. Day Seven: Somewhere in the world, a little child cries. The Delegate for Tanzania, Mr M'wub M'wub, immediately claims that we must do something about climate change. Then he realises that he has just staged a walk out and thus nobody has heard a word that he has said. Day Eight: Top-level negotiations commence over where the world is to put in place an ETS, a CPRS, GHG reduction scheme, action by NGOs, or a combination of all the above, called ETSCPRSGHGRSNGO, which shortens to E. Al Gore arrives dressed as an emo and is immediately mobbed by protesters wanting to murder him. He reads out some poetry to them and immediately wins them over to his cause. Day Nine: Kevin Rudd arrives at the conference! For a change, all the other delegates join the African leaders and walk out. Out in the cold, protesters are in the middle of Gustav Mahler's epic Das Lied Von Erde, but start having disputes over an E flat. Day Ten: The polar bear and Phelim McAleer gang up and start eating the protesters. The carnage is horrible. They scream and writhe on the ground in the pain. Delegates in the Copenhagen conference look on the dreadful scene, shake one another's hands, and say they must meet again sometime. Then they pop down the street to get a nice cup of tea before catching their flights home. The end.

Thought for the day

2009-12-18T11:16:00.003+11:00

Half-arsed poem

I'd rather half a bum than none.
I think I'll always fear
The prospect of no bum at all,
A rear-end with no rear.

Though if I had a half-arsed arse
My life would be quite crappy,
For cheek to cheek and bowel to bowel
Is what makes man most happy.

Various made-up synonyms for 'lying around on the couch for ages not doing anything'

2009-12-16T10:56:00.003+11:00

Sloucheing.

Loungeulating.

Hoisting my sails in the pillowing wind.

Planting a field of couch potatoes.

Extreme sitting.

Going to the gym, in my mind.

Like it or slump it.

Being couchettish.

Settee-settling.

Going out in a laze of glory.

Chairbling.

Really literally actually secretive symbolic cipher

2009-12-15T22:43:00.004+11:00

FACT: Dan Brown loves facts so much that he begins all his books with the word ‘fact’, followed by a series of assertions, that could, in fact, be facts. His favourite adverbs are ‘really’, ‘literally’, and ‘actually’, which he uses with liberal abandon in his books.

But anyway, the opening sentence to The Da Vinci Code really is a doozy. Check it out:

Renowned curator Jacques Sauniere staggered through the Grand Gallerie of the Louvre Museum, clutching at his chest.

That, I submit to the reader, is pure genius: something horrible happening to a very famous, though fictional, person. Fame is just like reality, only better. And of course, when something bad happens to a famous person, it’s a something that is even worse than the something that would happen to an ordinary person. Brown simultaneously appeals to the sensibilities of the readers of Who magazine and the purchasers of true crime novels, with a nod in the direction of Sister Wendy fans as well.

Dan Brown doesn’t so much take the truth for granted as he takes it to be a liar. His next favourite words, alongside ‘really’, ‘literally’ and ‘actually’ are ‘secret’, ‘symbol’, ‘code’, ‘cipher’; and his codes and ciphers, once revealed, nearly always lead to other codes and ciphers. A symbol is no good unless it symbolises another symbol, which is itself a code for another code, which is also a secret. The secrets themselves, once you get to them, are not very good, but the investigation that uncover the secrets is of some interest. The last secret in Brown's books are always the most disappointing.

Once you become familiar with Brown’s favourite terms, it becomes quite easy to devise a few standard Brown sentences for yourself: ‘The symbol for the code was literally embedded in the cipher, and the symbol…’ This is perhaps an exaggeration, but not much.

You can have a good game with the sentences in Brown’s novels, finding mistakes and grammatical errors and ambiguous descriptions and repeated terms and clichés and unrealistic descriptions, but you don’t have to. It provides literary critics with an entertaining exercise and an opportunity for them to demonstrate why they have been given the job they have. I can think of two examples off hand: in The Lost Symbol, Langdon and his friend Katherine Solomon narrowly escape from the CIA in a subway train that ‘whisked them to their destination’. In Da Vinci Code, Langdon and Sophie Neveu await for a box in a French bank which is both ‘mysterious’ and ‘whose contents were unknown’. But who cares? The plot is what is important.

I suppose I shouldn't admit to enjoying Dan Brown. I don't think I've ever read a favourable review of his books. Funnily enough, though, when I read Brown I find myself, again and again, encountering ideas and plot points that I've encountered in books by authors that are taken much more seriously. In The Lost Symbol Brown goes on about telepathy and the development of mental powers: look in the pages of a few Brian Aldiss books and you can find the same. Brown's plots, with their elaborate three-act structures, echo those of Michael Moorcock. He's nowhere as thoughtful or as well crafted as those two writers, but still, he's a lot of fun.

Predictions of perdition

2009-12-15T17:03:00.003+11:00

I was listening to radio the other day, and some paper shuffler from some paper shuffling agency was taking a break from his paper shuffling in order to bang on about how great his state was. "Oh, this is fantastic," he said, "We've cut the predicted road toll right down from last year's predicted road toll!"

It's just such a tragedy when predicted people die as the result of a predicted road toll, after all. If only we had a reliable way of cutting back on the predictions in order to save all those predicted lives lost!

If you thought that this quaint concern about the predicted loss of lives was limited to just one person, you'd be quickly proved wrong. Look on the internet at all the horrible terrible disastrous definite disasters that global warming is predicted to maybe possibly in some potential future lead to. And the UK Met office has been making similar predictions.

Of course, if all these predictions were so devastatingly tragic as some people have been making them out to be, you might think the people making them were wilfully committing genocide. Instead of, you know, drawing attention to their pet cause or attempting to fill out column spaces in the local Dullsville Times.

Making paranoid prognostications about the future is a pretty pointless exercise, but in the future, it's predicted that this tragic prediction count will only increase.

Such a pity that all these predicted predictions won't come to pass because the entire human race will be wiped out at three pm tomorrow by a gigantic cyber toad from the other side of the galaxy who decides to eat our planet for his dinner, according to a prediction made by me, Tim Train, today. Predictable, isn't it?

Lame superheros

2009-12-09T21:24:00.003+11:00

Inaudible Man
Donning his amazing cloak of inaudibility, Inaudible Man enters the lift amongst the evil supervillains, and lets fly with the most amazing series of farts that you have ever not heard in your life!

Non-existent Man
When mild-mannered Clinton Kurt puts on his Anti-ontogenical ring, he gains amazing powers of non-existence that allows him to enter into the very ranks of an army of psychopathic genocidal maniacs with demonic powers, and combat them with complete and utter nothingness.

Superfluous Man
He, also, can leap tall buildings in a single bound! He can outrace speeding trains - as well! In addition, he is faster than a flying bullet! And plus, he just saved the entire galaxy from being blown to smithereens by a zillion Ultraatomic bombs with his amazing powers, not to mention also, in addition, and as well! He is...

WILD CHEERING MOB PILES ONTO THE BLOG, SHOUTING: Look! Superman has just saved Paris Hilton's puppy from getting a paper cut! HOORAY FOR SUPERMAN!

HE IS SUPERFLUOUS MAN!

Woof! Woof!

2009-12-08T18:43:00.000+11:00

Doggerell! Posted at Pacos!

Climate emails leakin', leakin',
Dodgy graphs have got a tweakin',
MSM is really freakin'
At this situation.
People everywhere start seekin'
An investigation.

Believer is at war with skeptic,
Monbiot is apoplectic
His fits verge on the epileptic -
What a scandal!
This global warming email epic's
Too hot to handle.

Believers start to fume and fret,
They say some things that they regret,
They twitch and twiddle, shiver, sweat -
How disobedient!
But we can turn to rhymin' yet
When Truth gets Inconvenient.

All-purpose Christmas carol

2009-12-08T09:30:00.002+11:00

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
And a Happy New Year!
'Tis the season to be jolly -
And a Happy New Year!

Glory to our new born King,
Joyful and triumphant,
Peace on earth and mercy mild -
And a Happy New Year!

Don we now our gay apparel -
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day -
Troll the ancient yuletide carol -
On Christmas Day in the morning.
(And a Happy New Year!)

All is calm! All is quiet!
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Three French hens, two turtle doves -
And a Happy New Year!

I sang this to the Baron recently, and she commented that it was 'like being stuck in an elevator'. Strangely enough I took it as a compliment.

Absolutely right about everything, but otherwise open to disagreements

2009-12-06T17:16:00.005+11:00

CANBERRA, MONDAY - After months of debate, Federal Parliament has finally cemented into place legislation that has been agitated for over the course of several years by some guy with a blog called Matt.

The EML (Everything Matt Likes) bill was passed by both sides of Parliament with only one dissenting vote from the Liberals and none from Labor and the Greens. Although some amendments were originally proposed by the National Party under the name of STSDAWMA (Stuff That Simon Doesn't Agree With Matt About) clause, they were eventually struck down by the Coalition whip.

Simon, as was revealed over the course of the months-long debate, was a guy who regularly commented on Matt's blog and got into arguments with Matt and other commenters over various points. However, after scrutiny by the media, his disagreements with the policy positions held by Matt and other commenters were found to be too unworkable, principally because Matt didn't agree with them.

Schemes for the Everything Matt Likes bill have been outlined over the course of several years on Matt's blog, http://iamabsolutelyandutterlyrightabouteverythingandyouallcanjustgohometobed.blogspot.com.

Although the EML bill is still to go before the Senate, it is expected that it will be passed before long and become part of Australian law before next election.

"Finally, we can rest easy, knowing that Australia is going down the right path - the path agitated for by years by some obscure commenter on the internet with a blog," said Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, in a press conference yesterday.

"I have had conversations with Matt, and I have found him a fair and reasonable person to work with," said Federal Opposition Leader Tony Abbott in reply to media questions, "especially when every single detail of every single policy passed in federal parliament is something that he agrees with."

HOW THE EML BILL COULD AFFECT YOU
The Everything Matt Likes bill, experts predict, will have important impacts upon Australian life. There are four major tranches to the Matt-based legislation:

- The JWATFROA (Just What Are Those Feminists Really On About) scheme;

- The LOGWBWRUSCWAP (Let's Outlaw Global Warming Before We're Really Up Shit Creek Without A Paddle) plan, basically enabling parliament to pass legislation outlawing global warming whenever they feel like it;

- The ANRFEIWSNIMBY (A Nuclear Reactor For Every Idiot Who Says Not In My Backyard) rule;

- And the LMAFLANSBMICIAS (Let's Make AFL A National Sport By Making It Compulsory In All Schools) plan.

Although quibbling over the details, almost all the experts interviewed for this article agree that, once the EML legislation is set into place, the world will become a utopian paradise. Australians concerned about how a utopian paradise may affect their way of life are urged to call up the hotline number, 1319 87, and speak to an expert in the Matt-inspired legislation.

However, one prominent expert disagreeing with Matt is Simon, who has decided, now that the Everything Matt Likes legislation has been set in place, to set up his own blog, http://mattisanabsolutelycompletelystupididiotandheisonlyrightaboutsomeofthethingsheisbloggingabout.blogspot.com.

Matt is reportedly pleased about these developments, and is now wondering "what to do next" with his blog.

Controversy corner

2009-12-06T10:00:00.005+11:00

A recent post on the Overland blog asks the reader: 'Art and sexism: is it acceptable?' Good question. I'd like to pose a related one in this thread today at Controversy Corner: should sexism be banned because it leads to art?

On the one hand, we must admit that there are many non-artistic sexists in society today, innocently practicing their sexism without ever producing art, great or otherwise. However, the fact remains that there is a small minority of sexists who produce great art, which goes on to pollute our galleries, clog up our bookshops, and fills up our airwaves which could be better used for other things. Should we continue to tolerate a system of sexism that can be misused to produce great art?

There is of course a compromise solution: the innocent practices of sexists everywhere should be strictly regulated so that their sexism would have less danger of turning into great art. For instance, we could introduce a sexism license, administered by an appropriate government department. (At a pinch, we could probably get the entire National Party of Australia to become the relevant 'Department for Sexism', or 'Department for the Subjugation of Women', or whatever).

The counter argument must nevertheless be proposed: there are some artists who will continue to practice their art in spite of these discouragements, psychopathically creating new works to confuse and irritate the ordinary citizen. Can we ever do to much to stop these detestable villains, these invidious craftspeople? Perhaps sexism should simply be banned outright to stop them. But then, sexists everywhere would protest at these infringements of their liberties.

What is more important: the freedom to practice sexism, or the eradication of art from our society for once and for all?

That was Controversy Corner for another week!

Next week: we pose the question, 'Does racism lead to origami!' Tune in to Controversy Corner for another erudite discussion!

The Hey Hey Blackface segment: could this seemingly innocuous incident have lead to dangerous outbreaks of origami?

Position for the position of...

2009-12-04T17:54:00.006+11:00

I was thinking about doing a blog post inspired by this blog post by Maria about hating job interviews. But then a week passed and I forgot. But then another week passed and I remembered - so here we are!

Job interviews. Man, I've been to them. I've been to interviews where the employer just spent the entire half hour rambling on about whatever took his fancy, and didn't bother asking anything vaguely job related. I've been to some interviews where the employer just gathered all the interviewees together in a huge board room and tried to interview everyone of us, all at once. Other interviews were just preliminary interviews to see if you would make the grade for further interviews down the track. Some employers, I found, liked to give you little general knowledge tests, while others just asked you along to an exam that lasted for two hours or so. I even did interviews at several temping agencies around Newcastle where they got you to perform pointless psychological tests on the computer before ushering you out the door and promising to call you the moment a job came up. (Strangely enough, they never did.)

It eventually got to the point where I could have seriously considered listing in my resume

- Significant experience in preparing for and attending job interviews; answering pointless questions; filling out meaningless general knowledge quizzes; participating in baffling psychological tests; and generally sitting in waiting rooms for medium to large amounts of time while the interviewer prepares to see me.

I suppose I could have seriously considered going back to uni or TAFE and getting some more practical experience and trade qualification, but hey, I'm never one to do something practical about a problem when I can whinge about it.

Anyway, in all that time, there was one sort of interview that I haven't attended. Here's how I imagine it would go.

SCENE: A cavernous boardroom. MARIA is sitting at a large polished oak desk slowly eating creamy, golden puftaloons. She contemplates each puftaloon before lowering them into her mouth, munching contentedly on them, and licking the cream off each finger. Eventually, she puts her head up, wipes her hands on a tissue, and calls out across the room...

MARIA: NEXT!

(There enters into the room a SHY YOUNG BUSINESSMAN, JONES, carrying a briefcase which has been polished up to look incredibly important. JONES has to walk all the way across the room to get to his seat at the table).

MARIA: Ah, good to see you, Mr.... (reads from a sheet of paper) Jones. Puftaloon? (Pushing the box towards him).

JONES: (Looking slightly confused.) Oh, uh, er, no, thanks.

MARIA: Now congratulations Jones. You're among our top ten applicants.

JONES: Ha ha, thanks.

MARIA: Now let me put it to you straight away, Jones. This is an important position you're
applying for. You're now interviewing for the job of the person who will be interviewing me for the job. Do you think you have what it takes to be my interviewer?

JONES: Oh yes, Ms...

MARIA: Maria, please.

JONES: ... Maria. I have extensive experience interviewing other people for a job.

MARIA: How much?

JONES: I interview on Mondays, Tuesday, Thursday, and Fridays.

MARIA: That's a lot of interviewing.

JONES: And sometimes on Sundays. Extensive interviewing, as my resume...

MARIA: Do you do anything besides interviewing?

JONES: What... (looks confused)

MARIA: Does your job entail anything other than interviewing?

JONES: Oh, administration, filing...

MARIA: Hmmm. (Frowns). How many people have you interviewed?

JONES: (Looks embarassed).

MARIA: Jones, it's going to be a tough job interviewing me. I want to be sure you have what it takes. Can you fire a couple of application criteria at me?

JONES: Oh... sure! Maria - are you a people person?

MARIA: Ha! Cliche. A good start! (Makes make on form).

JONES: Do you work well on your own?

MARIA: Well how on earth would I answer that? It's in complete contradiction to your previous description - brilliant! (Makes another mark on form).

JONES: (Nervously) Do you have good communication skills? Are you outgoing?

MARIA: Yeeeeeeerrrrs. Not bad, but I'm not really intimidated by these. (Makes more marks on form).

JONES: (Quaking with fright, very quickly). Are you able to use Word, macros, Excel, formulas, and do you have industry experience with Quark, HTML, and Illustrator?

MARIA: Goood.

JONES: (Finishing off, utterly ruined). But most of all, are you warm, efficient, bubble, down to earth, competitive, friendly, with a co-operative and go-get-em attitude? Are you born-to-win and born-to-grin or born-for-fun and born-to-rule?

MARIA: Excellent! (Ticks form). How could anyone possibly be expected to answer such fatuous criteria? Jones, one last question. Why do you want to be my interviewer?

JONES: Because, I... I... I... (flustered, fumbling around for an answer)... um, I look forward to the challenge?

MARIA: Hmmm. Interesting. Anything you want to ask me?

JONES: Oh, nothing much, just...

MARIA: (Cocks eye). Mmm?

JONES: When will I know if I've got the job of interviewing you?

MARIA: We'll call you, Mr Jones. Well, thanks for taking the trouble to come all this way. (Walks around the table and shakes Jones' hand.) Have another puftaloon. And help yourself to some coffee on the way out.

JONES makes his way to the door. MARIA waits 30 seconds before taking the puftaloon box back to her side, sitting down, and picking another puftaloon up, turning it this way and that so she can admire its golden glow in the light of the sun beaming in through the window, and then slowly lowering it into her mouth...

How to lose friends and unimpress people!

2009-12-01T09:15:00.002+11:00

Never use a short word that makes sense when a long word that doesn't make sense is available. Instead of 'probably', say 'probabilistically'. Instead of 'problem', say 'problematically'. Instead of 'impress' say 'impressionistically'. Avoid 'making up' when 'reconcile' or 'reconciliation' is available. Never say sorry or 'apologise' when an 'apologia' is available. And don't stop at pretentious English words, take words out of context from the works of difficult-to-understand French philosophers: don't say 'differ' or 'difference', say 'differance'!

Example: "Well, we'll just have to agree that we have a differance over this problematic, and probabilistically we'll never reconciliate our differances. However, your argumentations are very impressionistic, and I offer an apologia up in advancement."

I recently used 'apologia' in an email, but unfortunately I didn't follow up the opportunity and use any of those other words. Bollockifications!

An appreciation

2009-11-29T10:03:00.003+11:00

A character is the representation of a person in a narrative or dramatic work of art (such as a novel, play, or film). Derived from the ancient Greek word kharaktêr (χαρακτήρ) through its Latin transcription character, the earliest use in English, in this sense, dates from the Restoration... the sense of "a part played by an actor" developed. Character, particularly when enacted by an actor in the theatre or cinema, involves "the illusion of being a human person." Since the end of the 18th century, the phrase "in character" has been used to describe an effective impersonation by an actor. Since the 19th century, the art of creating characters, as practised by actors or writers, has been called characterisation. - Wiki

Well, there are some who say that we identify with characters by sympathising with the situations that they find themselves in. There are others who say that characters can represent people we want to be like, or people we don't want to be like. Many maintain that fictional characters resemble people in the real world.

But I don't know about all of that when you consider the character of Krang, (from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Universe) a large pink pulsating brain with eyes and tentacles, sitting, manipulating a control board, in a hollow chamber in the chest of what appears to be a mindless human slave. I have never known any pinkly pulsating tentacled brains personally, and I don't think I know anybody who does; I do not particularly sympathise with the plight of pinkly pulsating tentacled brains; and I don't particularly want to be a pinkly pulsating tentacled brain. It seems to me that the theory of character can only take you so far, and doesn't quite manage to encompass creatures like Krang.

I've been thinking about Krang for a while. I don't know why. Possibly he has a natural charisma. Anyway, what actual function did Krang serve in the TMNT cartoon show? As far as I can remember, he didn't actually do anything. Krang just kind of harrangued Shredder to go after the turtles, and that was it. In Turtles Forever - by far the best Turtle movie - his principle function seems to be to stand around and looked scared every time Shredder does something evil. Sure, Krang is evil too, but he's evil in a placid and domesticated way, and you get the sense that he really doesn't care much about taking over the world. He just kind of blobbles around, pulsating pinkly, and occasionally squalling at Shredder to do something for him.

Oh Krang. It's been so long since you left our television screens. Why don't you ever call?

Is it wrong to be talking this way to a pinkly pulsating tentacled brain who is, by the way, evil?

Excremental success!

2009-11-28T09:56:00.006+11:00

Top of the New York Times bestseller list!

Secrets of the Gordon Ramsay Swearing Code

"Fucking cunty bollock shit turd steaming pile of wee." These are just some of the famous swear words from the famous swearing mouth of professional sweary and part-time cook, Gordon Ramsay. Now you might want to just take them at face value, mightn't you?

Well according to a professed Professor* at an alleged university, there's more to the ever-eloquent Ramsay's words than just swearing.

"We just applied a simple formula to the swear words," says Professor Gribble McGrubble, "And found that Ramsay had encoded secret, non-swearing messages in his swear words."

McGrubbles goes on to explain: "The secretive secrets included within the amazingly offensive and puerile swear words uttered by Gordon Ramsay include such astounding revelations as, 'I am fond of grey cats', 'I'll just pop the kettle on so we can all have some tea', 'I would like to wear a hat today, but I am uncertain as to whether I should put on my red one or my green one', 'perhaps I should take my umbrella, it looks a little cloudy out', and 'Civilisation will end in 2059 due to the five-day Guatemalan war'."

But that's not all! You can apply the secrets of Gordon Ramsay's swearing to your own professional and love life, as analysis of passages of unredeemable filth by Gordon Ramsay turns up such unlikely messages as, 'Now is the time to indulge in new relationships', 'the stock market will fall five points in two days from now', and 'a rabid ox will devour your testicles this afternoon, so put your relationship and work plans on hold'.

And who could afford not to take heed of such advice as, 'wear the blue coat, it suits you', 'the package should arrive in the post tomorrow, at seven pm', and 'in the year of the serpent blue fire will rain down on the sunlit lands and a strong emperor will emerge after a famine of eight moons', such as can be found in the fantastically offensive string of four letter words proceeding from Gordon Ramsay's mouth? No-one, that's who!

Secrets of the Gordon Ramsay Swearing Code! Are you thinking of buying it? Are you fucking nuts?!?? Available in all bad bookstores!

*Professed Professors are the most professional Professors of them all.

Apply the timeless wisdom of Gordon Ramsay's disgusting swearing to your life for instant SUCCESS!

Flopposition

2009-11-27T20:29:00.004+11:00

Man, the Liberals under Malcolm Turnbull seem to be having so many leadership fights these days that by the time I've got to the end of this sentence Tony Abbott will be leading the party. Obviously, the Liberals must unite under the leadership of Kevin Andrews if they are to have any hope of having Joe Hockey fight Kevin Rudd in the next election. Turnbull's return to the leadership following the failed Hockey experiment may have seemed unlikely at the time, but it is vital that the Liberals put this pointless bickering aside if their leader Peter Dutton, and his deputy, Sophie Mirabella, want to start landing some punches and convincing the electorate that the Mirabella-for-PM push has real force. Why the party eventually settled up Wilson Tuckey as their eventual head we'll never know, but it really is important for all Australians that the Opposition Leader Peter Costello and his shadow cabinet begin to do their job and applying critical scrutiny to the policies of the government, and give the Louise Markus leadership the strength to get the job done.

And if, in years time, we should all look back and observe that all these leadership fights were started over a dispute about the CPRS legislation, a useless scheme which will do nothing about global warming, which may not be happening anyway, then we would be be absolutely right. And where has that ever got anybody?

The cat diet, based on my observations of Harriet and Beatrice, with approximate times of consumption

2009-11-26T22:52:00.008+11:00

4.30 AM - My toes.

7.30 AM - One another's heads.

10.00 AM - Canned native animal. Preferably the one that the other cat is eating.

1.00 PM - The front page of my latest New Yorker magazine. [NOTE: Only if it's a good cover though.]

8.30 PM - My dinner.

10.30 PM - A toy hamster, taken out to the water bowl, dipped in, and then taken into the bedroom and dumped on the bed for nocturnal snacks.

11.30 PM - My toes.

That's about it I think. As you can see, it contains all five major cat food groups, ie, meaty stuff, stuff the other cat is eating, stuff the other person is eating, stuff the other person is reading, and the other person and/or the other cat.