The morning began with a good nose pick. I personally recommend that all mornings begin with a good nose pick, and indeed, there is hardly a morning of mine that does not begin with a good nose pick. However, at some periods of the year (hot days during summer, for instance) it is recommended that this nose picking policy is reconsidered, as a blood nose may be the result. Nevertheless, it is an excellent method that nature has furnished for cleaning out one's nasal passages and airways during the morning, with the tools readily provided (at one's fingertips, as it were).
As I had been sleeping somewhat fitfully, and rolling around a lot, my elbows had been aching from prolonged periods of rest on their sides. However, this ache quickly dissipated as I rose from my bed. I continued to the toilet, where I had the usual satisfactory morning piss.
There was very little to do at work, so I leaned forward on the desk, which again caused a slight ache in my arms. My back ached slightly as well, but let's not go on about it. Once or twice I rose from the seat to get a drink or go to the toilet for another piss. While not bad as pisses go, I was not able to lose myself in the experience as much as I would have at home due to the imminent presence of work colleagues in the bathroom.
In addition, there were several slight ructions in my stomach due to a consolidated programme of food consumption throughout the course of Monday and Tuesday. As a result, my lunch was somewhat light, a milkshake followed by a Cornflake Honeyjoy (disappointing).
Despite a slight wooziness throughout the afternoon, I continued in this manner through to the end of the day, where a walk in the fresh air and a coffee made me feel somewhat better. When I arrived home late in the evening I continued to the toilet to make a poo, which turned out to be slight, but not insignificant. Then I had a shower.
This has been a concise summary of the bodily functions of Timothy H Train during the course of today, Wednesday, 6 February, 2008.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
Crush your puny opponents and trod their bones beneath the photocopier!
As you'll probably know, I post on this blog from time to time about the Company I work for. I hope I'm not giving too much away, but this is their logo. Perhaps you might recognise it:
Their aims are innovation, efficiency, service, and eating as many small rodents and/or human babies as possible.
Today, I was lucky enough to be present at the company annual awards ceremony, an 'inspiring 'event where we learnt about many of the 'hard-working', 'committed' and 'creative' efforts put in by our colleagues. Two awards were given out, and by chance I was lucky enough to remember the details of both of the 'thank you' speeches. They are given below.
SPEECH NUMBER ONE
This victory is indeed a sweet and glorious one! I thank the mighty CEO Zorgax* for assisting me in my labours. Tonight, I shall feast upon the blood and skulls of my opponents and their children's children, crushing their bones and hearing the lamentations of their women as I thunder onwards! But I am a just and humble victor: I courtesly invite all you, my underlings, to join me in partaking in the festal cup of victory later this evening at the local blood bank. Actually, don't be surprised if I don't drink too much blood myself: I'm trying to cut back. It's a bit fattening. However, the rich ichor of mine enemies shall flow tonight, nevertheless, and it shall certainly be an enjoyable occasion!
On such an event, only two things really need be said: firstly, I would like to thank one and all of you for voting for me on this occasion, and if you didn't vote for me, NEVER LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. Secondly, now that I have in my possession the Talisman of Zorgax, all that I need is the Sword of the Black Realms, and ALL POWER SHALL BE MINE! Then - NAUGHT BUT A DRASTIC RISE IN INTEREST RATES AND/OR A BULL MARKET SHALL STOP ME! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
SPEECH NUMBER TWO
Awesome, guys! This is the most awesomely awesome thing to ever happen to me in an this awesome life of mine, full of awesomeness! I most righteously and awesomelly thank you for this awesomeness, and all the awesomelly awesome people within this room!
Awesome guys! Thanks so much!
PS We shall slaughter the Clan of the Photocopier at dawn. Draw your swords, mine supporters, and we will crush these puny rebels, and drink from their skulls! Bwa ha ha ha, and all that.
On the whole, I think, it's a good company, and a good place to be at.
*Names have been altered slightly to protect the guilty.
Their aims are innovation, efficiency, service, and eating as many small rodents and/or human babies as possible.
Today, I was lucky enough to be present at the company annual awards ceremony, an 'inspiring 'event where we learnt about many of the 'hard-working', 'committed' and 'creative' efforts put in by our colleagues. Two awards were given out, and by chance I was lucky enough to remember the details of both of the 'thank you' speeches. They are given below.
SPEECH NUMBER ONE
This victory is indeed a sweet and glorious one! I thank the mighty CEO Zorgax* for assisting me in my labours. Tonight, I shall feast upon the blood and skulls of my opponents and their children's children, crushing their bones and hearing the lamentations of their women as I thunder onwards! But I am a just and humble victor: I courtesly invite all you, my underlings, to join me in partaking in the festal cup of victory later this evening at the local blood bank. Actually, don't be surprised if I don't drink too much blood myself: I'm trying to cut back. It's a bit fattening. However, the rich ichor of mine enemies shall flow tonight, nevertheless, and it shall certainly be an enjoyable occasion!
On such an event, only two things really need be said: firstly, I would like to thank one and all of you for voting for me on this occasion, and if you didn't vote for me, NEVER LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. Secondly, now that I have in my possession the Talisman of Zorgax, all that I need is the Sword of the Black Realms, and ALL POWER SHALL BE MINE! Then - NAUGHT BUT A DRASTIC RISE IN INTEREST RATES AND/OR A BULL MARKET SHALL STOP ME! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
SPEECH NUMBER TWO
Awesome, guys! This is the most awesomely awesome thing to ever happen to me in an this awesome life of mine, full of awesomeness! I most righteously and awesomelly thank you for this awesomeness, and all the awesomelly awesome people within this room!
Awesome guys! Thanks so much!
PS We shall slaughter the Clan of the Photocopier at dawn. Draw your swords, mine supporters, and we will crush these puny rebels, and drink from their skulls! Bwa ha ha ha, and all that.
On the whole, I think, it's a good company, and a good place to be at.
*Names have been altered slightly to protect the guilty.
Unwillingly, a smut meme
Well, just when I thought it was safe to come back onto the internet, I've been tagged with a smut meme. Now, it's not that I'm not grateful or anything, it's just that I'm not bloody grateful. I mean, who writes these bloody things? And can't they let us internet voyeurs go around the internet in peace, reading other people's blogs anonymously and never expecting to be challenged. Gah!
Still, I guess it's one of the difficulties you get on the net from time to time. Faced with this smut meme, I've been considering several options.
1) Lie completely and utterly. (This is a protection from any potential embarassment, and really, does anyone expect anything else from me? Don't answer that.)
2) Tell the truth. (Yeep!)
3) Post an elaborate excuse on my blog as to why I will not do the smut meme while simultaneously not appearing to be timid or a coward. (Nope, can't think of any).
4) Only post the questions to the smut meme, letting my ever-astute readership figure out the answers themselves, as a kind of cooperative experience. (I could post it under the title 'So, tell me about my sexuality', or something. Actually, that could could be kinda fun.)
Or there's always the last one, option 5):
5) Actually do the smut meme.
Oh, all right then. But I'm not tagging anyone for this thingo. (Though it's tempting to tag Nottlesby and Prude.)
1. Chocolate or Whipped Cream:
Yes, please.
2. Leather or PVC:
Depends whether I'm eating chocolate or whipped cream.
3. Outdoor Sex or Indoor Sex:
What's this got to do with... oh, it's one of those questions, is it? Well, both have their virtues, I'm sure.
4. In the Jacuzzi or In Bed:
I'm not even sure what a jacuzzi is. It sounds like a type of carnivorous plant. In bed, thanks.
5. Bad Sex or No Sex:
Chastity, all the way!
6. Dominate or Be Dominated:
No idea.
7. Thigh highs or Bodystocking:
A ludicrous question. I would prefer if the person in question was wearing a few volumes of Wordsworth.
8. Fast or Slow:
Both, and both at the same time, thanks. Especially when it comes to whipped cream.
9. Rough or Gentle:
??????
10. Bite or Suck:
Again, I refer you to 1).
11. Role play or Reality:
All the world's a stage/
And all the men and women merely players.
12. Dirty Talking or Dirty Talking To:
Fuck, no.
13. Edible panties or No Panties:
Bugger off. I prefer chocolate.
14. Spanking paddle or Bare-handed:
What the hell is a spanking paddle?
Actually, please don't answer that.
15. Landing Strip or Kojak:
What kind of freak goes around calling their genitals either of these things? Can you imagine using one of these terms in 'Where do you come from'? ('And babies come out of the Kojak!')
These expressions are hideous. Let us never use them again.
16. Multiple Sessions or One Good Fuck:
If by 'Fuck', you mean 'Readings of the poetry of Yeats', then multiple sessions, please.
17. Moaning or Screaming:
As the occasion suits. But, as some schmuck said, 'Moderation in all things - even this sentence'.
18. Older (Wo)men or Young (Wo)men:
Who are you asking these things, anyway? Don Juan?
19. Threeway or No Way:
Option 3: Go away.
20. Swing or No Swinging:
Don't be an idiot.
Now let us never speak of this meme again.
Still, I guess it's one of the difficulties you get on the net from time to time. Faced with this smut meme, I've been considering several options.
1) Lie completely and utterly. (This is a protection from any potential embarassment, and really, does anyone expect anything else from me? Don't answer that.)
2) Tell the truth. (Yeep!)
3) Post an elaborate excuse on my blog as to why I will not do the smut meme while simultaneously not appearing to be timid or a coward. (Nope, can't think of any).
4) Only post the questions to the smut meme, letting my ever-astute readership figure out the answers themselves, as a kind of cooperative experience. (I could post it under the title 'So, tell me about my sexuality', or something. Actually, that could could be kinda fun.)
Or there's always the last one, option 5):
5) Actually do the smut meme.
Oh, all right then. But I'm not tagging anyone for this thingo. (Though it's tempting to tag Nottlesby and Prude.)
1. Chocolate or Whipped Cream:
Yes, please.
2. Leather or PVC:
Depends whether I'm eating chocolate or whipped cream.
3. Outdoor Sex or Indoor Sex:
What's this got to do with... oh, it's one of those questions, is it? Well, both have their virtues, I'm sure.
4. In the Jacuzzi or In Bed:
I'm not even sure what a jacuzzi is. It sounds like a type of carnivorous plant. In bed, thanks.
5. Bad Sex or No Sex:
Chastity, all the way!
6. Dominate or Be Dominated:
No idea.
7. Thigh highs or Bodystocking:
A ludicrous question. I would prefer if the person in question was wearing a few volumes of Wordsworth.
8. Fast or Slow:
Both, and both at the same time, thanks. Especially when it comes to whipped cream.
9. Rough or Gentle:
??????
10. Bite or Suck:
Again, I refer you to 1).
11. Role play or Reality:
All the world's a stage/
And all the men and women merely players.
12. Dirty Talking or Dirty Talking To:
Fuck, no.
13. Edible panties or No Panties:
Bugger off. I prefer chocolate.
14. Spanking paddle or Bare-handed:
What the hell is a spanking paddle?
Actually, please don't answer that.
15. Landing Strip or Kojak:
What kind of freak goes around calling their genitals either of these things? Can you imagine using one of these terms in 'Where do you come from'? ('And babies come out of the Kojak!')
These expressions are hideous. Let us never use them again.
16. Multiple Sessions or One Good Fuck:
If by 'Fuck', you mean 'Readings of the poetry of Yeats', then multiple sessions, please.
17. Moaning or Screaming:
As the occasion suits. But, as some schmuck said, 'Moderation in all things - even this sentence'.
18. Older (Wo)men or Young (Wo)men:
Who are you asking these things, anyway? Don Juan?
19. Threeway or No Way:
Option 3: Go away.
20. Swing or No Swinging:
Don't be an idiot.
Now let us never speak of this meme again.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
No, really
Being distracted by a daisy, I did not see the approaching herd of stampeding elephants until it was too late.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Lady Chatterley's Mother
A novel, in three paragraphs.
"Now Constance," said the small woman into the receiver of the telephone, "I don't approve of this affair you are having with the gardener. It's just not the done thing!"
"Oh, all right." said Lady Chatterley over the phone. "But botherations, mother! You never let me have any fun!"
Lady Chatterley's mother took a sip of tea and sighed with satisfaction. She'd been waiting for a whole year to say that. Getting this telephone was the best thing she'd ever done.
THE END
"Now Constance," said the small woman into the receiver of the telephone, "I don't approve of this affair you are having with the gardener. It's just not the done thing!"
"Oh, all right." said Lady Chatterley over the phone. "But botherations, mother! You never let me have any fun!"
Lady Chatterley's mother took a sip of tea and sighed with satisfaction. She'd been waiting for a whole year to say that. Getting this telephone was the best thing she'd ever done.
THE END
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Cranky panky
Saw Sweeney Todd on the weekend.
The film contains ten scowls, four glowers, seven leers, fourteen grimaces, and numerous sneers; there's rancid fog, rivers of blood, a hellish below-ground furnace, a number of charnel scenes, and - worst of all - Broadway showtunes. The art and set design and costumes and look is fabulous, but the general tone is black. (Not entirely true: some of the characters have their grey moments, too).
The typical scene goes something like this: Sweeney Todd philosophically sings a mournful little song under a black sky while cheerlessly slitting the throat of his latest, understandably dour-faced, customer, perhaps reflecting gloomfully upon the wicked state of the world.
Apart from that, it's all a bit of a downer.
In unrelated news, my hair's getting a bit long, but I'm thinking twice about having a haircut...
The film contains ten scowls, four glowers, seven leers, fourteen grimaces, and numerous sneers; there's rancid fog, rivers of blood, a hellish below-ground furnace, a number of charnel scenes, and - worst of all - Broadway showtunes. The art and set design and costumes and look is fabulous, but the general tone is black. (Not entirely true: some of the characters have their grey moments, too).
The typical scene goes something like this: Sweeney Todd philosophically sings a mournful little song under a black sky while cheerlessly slitting the throat of his latest, understandably dour-faced, customer, perhaps reflecting gloomfully upon the wicked state of the world.
Apart from that, it's all a bit of a downer.
In unrelated news, my hair's getting a bit long, but I'm thinking twice about having a haircut...
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday night question
Or, not a good saying
Why does the saying 'it goes without saying', and the 'it' that 'goes without saying' never actually go without saying?
Does the answer to this go without saying? Or could it actually be said that the thing that is said to 'go without saying' must actually go with some saying, so that to say 'it goes without saying' is to say something false - or, that is, to lie?
What is the answer? Can you say it without going 'it goes without saying'?
Quick, tell me! Before a roaming grammar hoodie splits my infinitive!
Why does the saying 'it goes without saying', and the 'it' that 'goes without saying' never actually go without saying?
Does the answer to this go without saying? Or could it actually be said that the thing that is said to 'go without saying' must actually go with some saying, so that to say 'it goes without saying' is to say something false - or, that is, to lie?
What is the answer? Can you say it without going 'it goes without saying'?
Quick, tell me! Before a roaming grammar hoodie splits my infinitive!
Monday, January 28, 2008
A discourse on a discursive matter
'Love' is a word that various poets have made various rhymes with, such as 'above', 'shove', 'gov', 'turtle dove', and 'for the purposes of protection from radiation you are legally required to wear this lead-lined glove'. These rhymes have been used with more-or-less equal frequency, though my personal favourite is the 'glove' thingy.
Poets have been endlessly talking about 'love's morn', and 'love's dawn', and 'a love that mourns', and 'lovelorn', and 'like a happy little gambolling fawn', and 'love that is like a sheep shorn', and 'love gone', and even 'jewellery is something that I love to adorn', although that last one is a bit suspect. Yes: if you are a poet, you could do worse than talk about love.
But, to get to my point. My point is this: love is something that has appeared in various contexts in various poetic traditions for centuries. Aside from my point, there are lots of other things to say about love. What good is it? What do you do when you fall in love, and is it all right if you romantically fall in love with an apple pie rather than a person? If not, why not, according to what philosophy, what are the arguments for and against, and would it be all right to do it with a sweet Lebanese pastry instead?
At the moment, I'm reading Philip Sidney's Arcadia, a comedy of love and lust written in Elizabethan times. It's full of insights into the Elizabethan conception of love - courtly love, romantic love, love of family and love of friends. I can't help but be struck as to how different it is to modern conceptions of love, or lack thereof. Let's do a little compare and contrast, shall we?
So what's better: Elizabethan love or modern love? I have no idea, but is there any of that apple pie left? I have a sonnet that I wanted to read out to it...
Poets have been endlessly talking about 'love's morn', and 'love's dawn', and 'a love that mourns', and 'lovelorn', and 'like a happy little gambolling fawn', and 'love that is like a sheep shorn', and 'love gone', and even 'jewellery is something that I love to adorn', although that last one is a bit suspect. Yes: if you are a poet, you could do worse than talk about love.
But, to get to my point. My point is this: love is something that has appeared in various contexts in various poetic traditions for centuries. Aside from my point, there are lots of other things to say about love. What good is it? What do you do when you fall in love, and is it all right if you romantically fall in love with an apple pie rather than a person? If not, why not, according to what philosophy, what are the arguments for and against, and would it be all right to do it with a sweet Lebanese pastry instead?
At the moment, I'm reading Philip Sidney's Arcadia, a comedy of love and lust written in Elizabethan times. It's full of insights into the Elizabethan conception of love - courtly love, romantic love, love of family and love of friends. I can't help but be struck as to how different it is to modern conceptions of love, or lack thereof. Let's do a little compare and contrast, shall we?
| Elizabethan Love | Modern Love | |
| On falling in love | All sorts of dramatic similes are used - 'pierced with Cupid's bow', 'struck with glistering beams from her eyen', 'Your eyes do slay me', etc. | Frequently, modern couples skip this bit, as well as anything else that is inconvenient - marriage, commitment, children, etc. (Sarah Silverman: "I want to get an abortion - but my boyfriend is having trouble getting me pregnant.") For the term 'love', substitute 'lust'. |
| On meeting your lover | One good way is to dress yourself up in the clothes of the opposite sex (like Pyrocles in Arcadia, or Viola in Shakespeare's 12th Night) | Pick up lines! (eg, "The voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you", "So, you're a girl, huh?") |
| Courtship | Frequently involving flowers, unlikely speeches to one another that come out as sonnets ("If I profane with my unworthiest hand/ This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this..." etc, Romeo and Juliet) | Courtship? Something that happens either during tennis or after the divorce. |
| Revealing your true desires to the one you long after | Frequently done in song, or verses written in some obscure Grecian form, such as Iambic Pentameter, Trenchant Heptameter, or Galloping Archaics. | People exchange phone numbers, in order to reveal their true feelings through an expansive poetic form called 'TXT messages'. Phone numbers can also be exchanged as an agreement not to communicate (eg, "As an empty courtesy, here's my phone number. Let's not turn this beautiful one-night stand into a horrible long-lasting relationship.") |
So what's better: Elizabethan love or modern love? I have no idea, but is there any of that apple pie left? I have a sonnet that I wanted to read out to it...
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Cleaning products
Words that have also been used for cleaning products
Pert
Preen
Hurricane
Cold Power
Mister Sheen
Toilet Duck
Words that might also be used for cleaning products but have not as yet been used in that way
Bam
Sham
Gobsmack
Zing
Mistress Veneer
Sewerage Goose
Supercalafragalisticexpialadocious
Words that probably will not be used as cleaning products at any time in the foreseeable future, although you never know
Sludge
Slurry
Table Mole
Toilet Badger
Gore
Lacklust
Mucus
Mister Fester
Pert
Preen
Hurricane
Cold Power
Mister Sheen
Toilet Duck
Words that might also be used for cleaning products but have not as yet been used in that way
Bam
Sham
Gobsmack
Zing
Mistress Veneer
Sewerage Goose
Supercalafragalisticexpialadocious
Words that probably will not be used as cleaning products at any time in the foreseeable future, although you never know
Sludge
Slurry
Table Mole
Toilet Badger
Gore
Lacklust
Mucus
Mister Fester
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Can I have my double entendre quadrupled, please?
When I was travelling in America, I'd piss myself laughing everytime I saw an ad for a 'Presidential Doodle' exhibition, or a bag of Cheez Doodles.
Well, you'd never have thought it, but the Americans have been bested in their own double-entendre efforts by the British. By no other institution than a church charity...
I got this news from the very funny Dave, who nevertheless fails to note the rather, um, important double entendre. Guess only Australians get that particular item of vernacular, then.
Well, you'd never have thought it, but the Americans have been bested in their own double-entendre efforts by the British. By no other institution than a church charity...
Oodles of DoodlesPeople are urged to 'submit your doodle', 'choose a concept and get doodling', and asks of readers, 'Why not spend 10 minutes of one CU meeting getting everyone to have a go at a doodle?'
This year we are going for a very 'handmade' look, and as part of the design we want to illustrate the gospels with doodles from students, supporters, Relay Workers and Staff Workers so we still need your help!
I got this news from the very funny Dave, who nevertheless fails to note the rather, um, important double entendre. Guess only Australians get that particular item of vernacular, then.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Bon wot
Douglas Adams said in Life, the Universe, and Everything that the secret to flying was throwing yourself at the ground and missing it. Well, I've just discovered that the secret to happiness is similar. It's putting some chocolate peppermint biscuits in the fridge, then forgetting to remember them, then finding them in the fridge later and remembering that you had forgotten them. Bliss!
Are you all seated uncomfortably? Good! We won't begin!
Are you all seated uncomfortably? Good! We won't begin!
The Bulletin closing down! A pointless, gossipy media post...
Australia’s longest-running magazine, The Bulletin, has been shut down, ending its 128-year history.I got this story from LP, where there's a decent conversation going about the whole thing. It seems Australia's longest-running current affairs magazine - almost the only one, in fact - The Bulletin is closing down. It's been losing revenue for years, and the owners have decided that it's time to do away with it for good.
The magazine’s publisher ACP Magazines - part of the PBL Media empire part-owned by James Packer - announced this morning that the edition of The Bulletin that went on sale yesterday would be its last.
ACP chief executive Scott Lorson blamed the closure of recent circulation figures of 57,039 - about half the sales from the mid-1990s - and “the impact of the internet” on the magazine’s demise.
Sad news, obviously, but I can't help but wonder what Tim Blair might have to say about this. Blair was a freelance contributor to The Bulletin, and then assistant editor, for a period of several years. When I first started reading his blog, maybe in late 2001, he was associated with the magazine, and he only broke that association off in 2007, to take up a job as opinions editor at the Daily Telegraph. After Blair left, he made a few posts alluding to staffing and organisation troubles at The Bulletin, like this one, where he runs a snippet from a news item about the magazine, and notes that 'The place ain't happy, for lots of reasons.'
I can't help but wondering if he'd guessed, beforehand, that the magazine wasn't going to last much longer. He'd have a few interesting things to say about the whole affair, being one of the few Aussie bloggers with an insider perspective from mainstream media. His ongoing opinion column ('The Continuing Crisis') always struck me as being rather quixotic and eccentric for a staid publication like The Bulletin, running things like a Mark Latham board game. Maybe it makes a bit better sense if seen as a kind of last hurrah. (I'm being a bit speculative here.) Blair's in hospital recovering from a bowel cancer operation (get well soon, Tim!). Maybe he'll have something to offer when he gets out.
Anyway, head on over to LP, where the conversation is centring around the reasons for closure, and some interesting comparisons are being made to US and net-only publications. Or not.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Big poo sham
I went to the supermarket to get shampoo today. Why is that every time I go to get shampoo to shampoo my hair, I can't just get ordinary shampoo? There's shampoo that is redolent of the rose, and shampoo that leaves my hair blushing and tinctured with a faint odour of a Bavarian forest in the morn, and shampoo that leaves my hair with the bounce of a new-born fawn, and shampoo that is like a field of hollyhock, clover, and jonquils newly bloomed. Some shampoos trumpet their chemical virtues, insisting that they contain carbolic acid (that nourishes!), and hydraulic acid (from the roots to the tips!), or diesel (encouraging new, stronger, virile and masculine hair!) Others are made from all natural ingredients: the tears of a duck, freshly wept, and rubbed across the cheeks of a blushing Navaho babe, before being gently dissolved through the new-plucked hairs of a mountain goats gonads (for instance). Then, as if to go one better, there are the shampoos that trumpet their environmental virtues. This bottle is kind to the whales, another saves rainforests, a third nourishes the soil in fringe desert communities (though it's not clear whether all this happens before, after, or during the shampoo is in your hair. Maybe it doesn't do your hair at all.) And this is not to mention at all the line of budget shampoos, the shampoos which 'get in, do the job, and get out, fast!', shampoos with names like 'Wham' and 'Slam' and 'Clam', punctuated liberally with exclamation marks and barcodes and made of essence of cardboard. (They leave a cute little barcode tattooed neatly across your hair after you have showered.)
I tell you, the collective malodour of unguents and chemicals and horse dung and commerce rising from the supermarket shelf would have been enough on their own to give me a massive stomach ache. Thankfully, I'd anticipated this and already earlier in the day from a late lunch, but it was a close one, Jeeves, a very close one.
And while we're at it, on a completely unrelated subject, what happened to the old magazine stand at Flinders Street Station? Time was a discerning traveller could collect a copy of The Spectator or the New Yorker or an interesting new science magazine from it. Nowadays, all that's gone, and all you have is a load of crap, neatly filed away under helpful meaningless titles such as Untertainment, General Disinterest, and Weakly Publications.
I ask you, what is this world coming to?
I tell you, the collective malodour of unguents and chemicals and horse dung and commerce rising from the supermarket shelf would have been enough on their own to give me a massive stomach ache. Thankfully, I'd anticipated this and already earlier in the day from a late lunch, but it was a close one, Jeeves, a very close one.
And while we're at it, on a completely unrelated subject, what happened to the old magazine stand at Flinders Street Station? Time was a discerning traveller could collect a copy of The Spectator or the New Yorker or an interesting new science magazine from it. Nowadays, all that's gone, and all you have is a load of crap, neatly filed away under helpful meaningless titles such as Untertainment, General Disinterest, and Weakly Publications.
I ask you, what is this world coming to?
Tuesday morning objectification of puffins!
Good morning, and welcome to the final and penultimate installment in what has been an ongoing series and a one-off post, 'Tuesday morning objectification of puffins!' This morning, we have a wide array of puffins to look at as if they were objects, so let's get right into it!
Here's a puffin who doesn't object to being objectified as an object. Far from objecting to his ultimate objectification, this puffin has made aforementioned objectification his objective object. And who are we to object?
Two saucy puffins pause in a tantalising shape that looks just like some puffins, causing us all to think puffin-like thoughts! How about that?
PUFFIN 1: I say, I say, I say. What did one puffin say to another puffin?
PUFFIN 2: I say, I don't know what he said!
PUFFIN 1: I say! That's exactly what he did say!
PUFFIN 2: I say!
(Puffins somewhat unsuccessfully attempt to break out of this objectification and turn themselves into postmodern subjects)
Various puffins engaging in various puffin activities, such as sitting, making puffin noises, or singing the Kalevala.
Puffins, puffins, puffins, puffins, puffins, and some rocks!
To sum up, here is a picture of the Queen, who is not a puffin, but, more importantly, not a subject either.
Thank you for attending this penultimate puffin post. Go off and do other Tuesday morning things now.
Two saucy puffins pause in a tantalising shape that looks just like some puffins, causing us all to think puffin-like thoughts! How about that?
PUFFIN 1: I say, I say, I say. What did one puffin say to another puffin?
PUFFIN 2: I say, I don't know what he said!
PUFFIN 1: I say! That's exactly what he did say!
PUFFIN 2: I say!
(Puffins somewhat unsuccessfully attempt to break out of this objectification and turn themselves into postmodern subjects)
Various puffins engaging in various puffin activities, such as sitting, making puffin noises, or singing the Kalevala.
Puffins, puffins, puffins, puffins, puffins, and some rocks!
To sum up, here is a picture of the Queen, who is not a puffin, but, more importantly, not a subject either.
THE QUEEN: (In a cantankerous queenly voice) I am not a subject.
Thank you for attending this penultimate puffin post. Go off and do other Tuesday morning things now.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Existential despair
I burnt my croissant this morning.
UPDATE! - Necessity is the mother of invention. I had some toast instead. With honey, no less!
UPDATE! - Necessity is the mother of invention. I had some toast instead. With honey, no less!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Conan the Annoyer
There's something fundamentally ambiguous about Arnie Schwarzenegger's acting. No matter what movie he's in, no matter what scene he's in, he always wears the same, slightly stunned expression on his face. Lines are delivered in a lumbering, leaden style so that it's impossible to tell what emotion or idea Arnie's trying to convey, really. The other night on Sleek Geeks, Adam Spencer and Karl Kruzelnizcki* played some footage from Junior, labelling one expression on his face 'happy', and another expression 'sad'. "Right there, you see the entire range of Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting", they declared. Actually, you couldn't even say for certain whether he was happy or sad in either of the camera shots: he just wore slightly different scowls on his face.
But whatever movie he's in, Arnie delivers - even if you're not sure what he's delivering**. His most famous role was in the Terminator films, where he played an emotionless robot - a pretty canny choice considering his acting style. But he's also, pretty successfully, made fun of himself. In Junior, this is obvious. In another film he was apparently considering playing the tooth fairy. And then there was that Danny de Vito mistake, but the less said about that the better.
Truth is, his films really start to blend in to one another after a while; they're just Arnie films. I've just been watching Conan the Destroyer, where Arnie plays a roaming sword-toting thief. Though the film might just as well have been called Conan the Barbarian (which it's sequel to) or Conan the Cimmerian or whatever, since the impression it leaves afterwards is more or less the same impression you'd get as if you'd been watching any other Conan film that has been made, or might be made, or isn't going to be made, or is made in the wet dreams of comic book geeks the world over.
So anyway, Destroyer starts off with Conan being attacked in some desert by warriors (you can tell they're bad because they're wearing spiky armour). Conan beats them off, at which point the last of the warriors lifts their helmet, announces that they are Queen Taramis (or Taranis, or Tamara, or something) and they have a job for Conan. (As job interviews go, I've seen worse.) Once they're all back at her palace, Taramis or Taranis or Tamara tells Conan that she wants him to go and steal a jewel or diamond or what-not, taking with him a virgin princess (it's very important that he's accompanied by a virgin princess, apparently). After they've stolen a jewel/diamond/what-not, they have to go somewhere else and steal a jewelled horn, at which point they come back, place this jewelled horn in the head of a statue of some God or other, and everything will be right. Or something. I didn't pay too much attention to the details here, but rest assured that the Queen will attempt to take over the world, the God turns out to be some sort of demon, the virgin princess is almost but not quite sacrificed, on a stone altar, no less***, and that Conan manages through some impressive sword play to save the day. And the world.
It's the perfect movie for Arnie the actor, in that the only thing the directors ask of him is to be present in a number of shots, and not present in a number of other shots. He does a bit of leaping around and swinging a sword around in an impressive fashion. At one point, Taramis tells him to 'think', and a troubled expression comes on his face. Elsewhere, she goes to the trouble of describing his emotions - "You are afraid!" - which is quite helpful, really, because you wouldn't be able to tell anything from the expression on his face. He also shares some entertaining dialogue with the virgin princess Jehna (or Tiena, or Jeana, or Jane, or some such):
JEHNA: Tell me if it hurts. But then, I imagine nothing hurts you.
CONAN: Only pain.
(It's worthwhile remembering that Arnie speaks like this in real life, too. He's famously remembered for his succint statement of Republican Party policy a few years ago: "I think gay marriage should be something between a man and a woman.")
But then, there are whole scenes in which dialogue is not required at all. There's a lot of hammy posing, and perfunctory sword fights, and the odd demon appearing on the scene (well, two to be precise.) For the most part, the characters confine themselves to the occasional exhortation to 'Look!'; the odd bit of fearful muttering, or magical gibbering; the occasional battle howl. The only words with more than two syllables are the exotic cognomens given to some of the characters and places. Conan is forever mooning about Valeria, or Valaria, or Balaria, or Malaria, or some such. There's a character called Bombata, or Bombala, or Blablabla, or whatever. I wouldn't know. When you do get real dialogue (one of the better examples is given above), the effect is positively Shakespearean. (And the closing words about how Conan eventually became a king and "Wore a crown upon a troubled brow" are rhetorically quite wonderful.)
And I loved every minute of Destroyer. It really is a beautiful film, a kind of bizarre fantasy about a past, pre-civilised world populated by Cimmerians and Shadazarians and just about every other variety of human. There are grand Hittite-style palaces, and lush sort-of European forests, and vast kind-of African deserts, and underworld-inhabiting cults, and a palace of mirrors, and gigantic eagles of smoke. The music (by Basil Poledouris, no less!) is some kind of bizarre pastiche-western-fantasy thingo. Oh, and then there are the guys in spiked armour. I love the spiked armour.
I wholeheartedly recommend Conan the Destroyer as the perfect film to enjoy if you don't have anything else to enjoy at the present time. (Also the perfect film for distracting you when you really should be doing something else, as I found out this morning...)
*I don't know if that's how his name is really spelled and I couldn't be bothered checking.
** Except for Junior, of course, where he delivered a baby from his body.
*** Lovingly fashioned for the occasion by Squibbles Sacrificial Altars, Tables and Associated Occult Items, LTD.
But whatever movie he's in, Arnie delivers - even if you're not sure what he's delivering**. His most famous role was in the Terminator films, where he played an emotionless robot - a pretty canny choice considering his acting style. But he's also, pretty successfully, made fun of himself. In Junior, this is obvious. In another film he was apparently considering playing the tooth fairy. And then there was that Danny de Vito mistake, but the less said about that the better.
Truth is, his films really start to blend in to one another after a while; they're just Arnie films. I've just been watching Conan the Destroyer, where Arnie plays a roaming sword-toting thief. Though the film might just as well have been called Conan the Barbarian (which it's sequel to) or Conan the Cimmerian or whatever, since the impression it leaves afterwards is more or less the same impression you'd get as if you'd been watching any other Conan film that has been made, or might be made, or isn't going to be made, or is made in the wet dreams of comic book geeks the world over.
So anyway, Destroyer starts off with Conan being attacked in some desert by warriors (you can tell they're bad because they're wearing spiky armour). Conan beats them off, at which point the last of the warriors lifts their helmet, announces that they are Queen Taramis (or Taranis, or Tamara, or something) and they have a job for Conan. (As job interviews go, I've seen worse.) Once they're all back at her palace, Taramis or Taranis or Tamara tells Conan that she wants him to go and steal a jewel or diamond or what-not, taking with him a virgin princess (it's very important that he's accompanied by a virgin princess, apparently). After they've stolen a jewel/diamond/what-not, they have to go somewhere else and steal a jewelled horn, at which point they come back, place this jewelled horn in the head of a statue of some God or other, and everything will be right. Or something. I didn't pay too much attention to the details here, but rest assured that the Queen will attempt to take over the world, the God turns out to be some sort of demon, the virgin princess is almost but not quite sacrificed, on a stone altar, no less***, and that Conan manages through some impressive sword play to save the day. And the world.
It's the perfect movie for Arnie the actor, in that the only thing the directors ask of him is to be present in a number of shots, and not present in a number of other shots. He does a bit of leaping around and swinging a sword around in an impressive fashion. At one point, Taramis tells him to 'think', and a troubled expression comes on his face. Elsewhere, she goes to the trouble of describing his emotions - "You are afraid!" - which is quite helpful, really, because you wouldn't be able to tell anything from the expression on his face. He also shares some entertaining dialogue with the virgin princess Jehna (or Tiena, or Jeana, or Jane, or some such):
JEHNA: Tell me if it hurts. But then, I imagine nothing hurts you.
CONAN: Only pain.
(It's worthwhile remembering that Arnie speaks like this in real life, too. He's famously remembered for his succint statement of Republican Party policy a few years ago: "I think gay marriage should be something between a man and a woman.")
But then, there are whole scenes in which dialogue is not required at all. There's a lot of hammy posing, and perfunctory sword fights, and the odd demon appearing on the scene (well, two to be precise.) For the most part, the characters confine themselves to the occasional exhortation to 'Look!'; the odd bit of fearful muttering, or magical gibbering; the occasional battle howl. The only words with more than two syllables are the exotic cognomens given to some of the characters and places. Conan is forever mooning about Valeria, or Valaria, or Balaria, or Malaria, or some such. There's a character called Bombata, or Bombala, or Blablabla, or whatever. I wouldn't know. When you do get real dialogue (one of the better examples is given above), the effect is positively Shakespearean. (And the closing words about how Conan eventually became a king and "Wore a crown upon a troubled brow" are rhetorically quite wonderful.)
And I loved every minute of Destroyer. It really is a beautiful film, a kind of bizarre fantasy about a past, pre-civilised world populated by Cimmerians and Shadazarians and just about every other variety of human. There are grand Hittite-style palaces, and lush sort-of European forests, and vast kind-of African deserts, and underworld-inhabiting cults, and a palace of mirrors, and gigantic eagles of smoke. The music (by Basil Poledouris, no less!) is some kind of bizarre pastiche-western-fantasy thingo. Oh, and then there are the guys in spiked armour. I love the spiked armour.
I wholeheartedly recommend Conan the Destroyer as the perfect film to enjoy if you don't have anything else to enjoy at the present time. (Also the perfect film for distracting you when you really should be doing something else, as I found out this morning...)
*I don't know if that's how his name is really spelled and I couldn't be bothered checking.
** Except for Junior, of course, where he delivered a baby from his body.
*** Lovingly fashioned for the occasion by Squibbles Sacrificial Altars, Tables and Associated Occult Items, LTD.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
An incompleat hiftory of wonderful thingf
Alphabets
Autumn
Apples
Ambiguity
Ampersands
Anagrams
Anatolian languages, the
Bowler hats
Blogs
Beer
Bow ties
Borborygms
Beagles
Copses
Cats
Collanders
Daschunds
Doberman Pinschers
Doberman
Ermine
Early spring
Eggs
Fedoras
Fudge
Goliardery
Gambolling
Hildegard von Bingen
Handkerchiefs
Idleness
Jarlsberg cheese
Kittens
Lissomeness
Languor
Lassitude
Lilies
Louches
Lambton worms
Marsupials
Malaprops
Navels
Nixies
Oranges
Origami
Palindromes
Poesy
Q
Quaquaversals
Quacks
Rhomboids
Semordnilaps
Spenser
Shakespeare
Trams
Trains
Trolls
Trilbies
Ullages
Velvet
Whimsies
Winter
Xylophones
Yodellers
Yeomenry
Yawps, barbaric or otherwise
Zebras
Zinnias
Zinfandels
Autumn
Apples
Ambiguity
Ampersands
Anagrams
Anatolian languages, the
Bowler hats
Blogs
Beer
Bow ties
Borborygms
Beagles
Copses
Cats
Collanders
Daschunds
Doberman Pinschers
Doberman
Ermine
Early spring
Eggs
Fedoras
Fudge
Goliardery
Gambolling
Hildegard von Bingen
Handkerchiefs
Idleness
Jarlsberg cheese
Kittens
Lissomeness
Languor
Lassitude
Lilies
Louches
Lambton worms
Marsupials
Malaprops
Navels
Nixies
Oranges
Origami
Palindromes
Poesy
Q
Quaquaversals
Quacks
Rhomboids
Semordnilaps
Spenser
Shakespeare
Trams
Trains
Trolls
Trilbies
Ullages
Velvet
Whimsies
Winter
Xylophones
Yodellers
Yeomenry
Yawps, barbaric or otherwise
Zebras
Zinnias
Zinfandels
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Ecological transport
Uncycle (n.)
1) Just like a bicycle, except without any wheels.
2) The next logical step down from a unicycle.
(Slightly more walking may be involved than is usual with bicycles).
1) Just like a bicycle, except without any wheels.
2) The next logical step down from a unicycle.
(Slightly more walking may be involved than is usual with bicycles).
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Bloody Johnson
It's very simple. The amount of work we do at work is dependent upon the amount of work arriving in at work for us to work on. At the moment, we're not getting much work at work, which means that we fill the time in at work by not doing much work. Or, to put it another way, we spend our time at work mostly sitting around and surfing the internet, in a productive manner, obviously. Key duties to filling this important task include: staring off into space, swivelling chairs around, lowering the self-same chairs down and raising them up, and banging hands noisily upon keyboards when people walk by.
Lately, though, I must confess that I've been taking part in completely trivial and frivolous activities. Like a beast, I've been wasting my time at work in reading books by Samuel Johnson and Henry Fielding online. I've started with the collected essays of Johnson, and then, like a slob, I've turned to the ultimate degradation: the collected plays of Fielding.
It's terrible, I know. I'm almost too ashamed to admit to it.
Lately, though, I must confess that I've been taking part in completely trivial and frivolous activities. Like a beast, I've been wasting my time at work in reading books by Samuel Johnson and Henry Fielding online. I've started with the collected essays of Johnson, and then, like a slob, I've turned to the ultimate degradation: the collected plays of Fielding.
It's terrible, I know. I'm almost too ashamed to admit to it.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Whenever you say "I don't believe in fairy bread", a fairy bread maker DIES
Well, today I am pleased to say that I was a proud attendee at "International Fairy Bread Appreciation Day". My attendance at this event was somewhat aided by the fact that it was a largely notional event with no set location, based around a particular internet site. Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable occasion, full of laughter, of tears, and of reminiscences of experiences that we have all (well, me anyway) had with fairy bread.
Fairy bread has, of course, inspired many great debates, disputes, and events throughout history. Well has it been said that "man may not live by fairy bread alone." However, it has also been said, "give us this day our daily fairy bread." The preparation of fairy bread is, of course, a difficult process, involving at its simplest level (which also happens to be its most complex level) the smearing of a piece of bread with margarine or butter, following which a number of hundreds and thousands are sprinkled on this bread. One principal difficulty encountered by the many famed chefs of fairy bread over the centuries has been linguistic: namely, are there really 'hundreds and thousands' of hundreds and thousands in the bottle of hundreds and thousands to be found at the supermarket, or just a lot of them? Also problematic is the arrangement of the hundreds and thousands upon the slice of bread. Some chefs favour a stochastic method for arranging the hundreds and thousands upon the bread - ie, they just throw it on Any Old How. However, others prefer to arrange the hundreds and thousands into colourful shapes and spirals and curlicues. Some Tibetan fairy bread chefs have even been known to organise the hundreds and thousands, piece by piece, into a kind of "fairy bread mandala". Others disagree with this method.
There are many variations on the basic fairy bread theme. French fairy bread, for instance, sold in any good French boulangerie, consists of basic French rolls, covered with good French butter and sprinkled with hundreds and thousands (or, in the French language, 'hundreds e thousands'). In some cases, camembert or a local cheese is substituted for the butter. Italian fairy bread, on the other hand, is made on a pizza dough.
To mark the important and festive occasion that was "International Fairy Bread Appreciation Day", I consumed three slices of fairy bread. A few short notes on each slice follows.
SLICE 1
While not an entirely successful rendition of the concept of 'fairy bread', the first slice nevertheless managed to fulfill all of the requirements adequately. The butter was covered well, and the hundreds and thousands were spread decently over the bread. There was a gap in one corner of the bread where there weren't that many hundreds and thousands, but nothing is perfect. And it has to be said that I had to restrain myself from shuddering with pleasure as I raised the slice to my lips, and enclosed them around this heavenly slice, this manna from heaven! Blessings and benedictions to the person who first invented this delicious meal!
SLICE 2
A light and zesty slice of fairy bread shortly followed the first 'course', in which I took a decidedly minimalist approach to the concept. That is, I made the fairy bread with less butter and less hundreds and thousands (although not less bread, that would be ridiculous.) Although this resulted in the hundreds and thousands being spread somewhat sparsely, I discovered that they lingered on my palate, leaving it full of a bouquet of flavours. To paraphase that popular television show The Simpsons, "It's like there's a party in my mouth, and everyone's invited!"
SLICE 3
I rested for a time between the creation and consumption of the second slice of fairy bread and the creation and consumption of the third slice, or 'course'. Thus it was after a period of relaxation and meditation that I returned to the duty of fairy bread cooking, full of renewed vigour and creativity. This time, I decided to return to the classics, generously slapping on the butter and creating vast mountains of hundreds and thousands: curlicues of colour! I was richly rewarded for my final outburst of artistic inspiration: for, the moment the bread touched my tongue, I swooned for happiness. O the glory and grandeur that is Rome! O the wonder of fairy bread!
TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION:
- What type of bread is best used for making fairy bread? White slice, wholemeal slice, or other?
- It has been suggested by certain mathematicians and bon vivants that lately, the number of yellow hundreds and thousands available in a bottle of hundreds and thousands has been declining rapidly. What are your observations? Why might this be so?
IN CONCLUSION:
Fairy bread. Eat it.
Fairy bread has, of course, inspired many great debates, disputes, and events throughout history. Well has it been said that "man may not live by fairy bread alone." However, it has also been said, "give us this day our daily fairy bread." The preparation of fairy bread is, of course, a difficult process, involving at its simplest level (which also happens to be its most complex level) the smearing of a piece of bread with margarine or butter, following which a number of hundreds and thousands are sprinkled on this bread. One principal difficulty encountered by the many famed chefs of fairy bread over the centuries has been linguistic: namely, are there really 'hundreds and thousands' of hundreds and thousands in the bottle of hundreds and thousands to be found at the supermarket, or just a lot of them? Also problematic is the arrangement of the hundreds and thousands upon the slice of bread. Some chefs favour a stochastic method for arranging the hundreds and thousands upon the bread - ie, they just throw it on Any Old How. However, others prefer to arrange the hundreds and thousands into colourful shapes and spirals and curlicues. Some Tibetan fairy bread chefs have even been known to organise the hundreds and thousands, piece by piece, into a kind of "fairy bread mandala". Others disagree with this method.
There are many variations on the basic fairy bread theme. French fairy bread, for instance, sold in any good French boulangerie, consists of basic French rolls, covered with good French butter and sprinkled with hundreds and thousands (or, in the French language, 'hundreds e thousands'). In some cases, camembert or a local cheese is substituted for the butter. Italian fairy bread, on the other hand, is made on a pizza dough.
To mark the important and festive occasion that was "International Fairy Bread Appreciation Day", I consumed three slices of fairy bread. A few short notes on each slice follows.
SLICE 1
While not an entirely successful rendition of the concept of 'fairy bread', the first slice nevertheless managed to fulfill all of the requirements adequately. The butter was covered well, and the hundreds and thousands were spread decently over the bread. There was a gap in one corner of the bread where there weren't that many hundreds and thousands, but nothing is perfect. And it has to be said that I had to restrain myself from shuddering with pleasure as I raised the slice to my lips, and enclosed them around this heavenly slice, this manna from heaven! Blessings and benedictions to the person who first invented this delicious meal!
SLICE 2
A light and zesty slice of fairy bread shortly followed the first 'course', in which I took a decidedly minimalist approach to the concept. That is, I made the fairy bread with less butter and less hundreds and thousands (although not less bread, that would be ridiculous.) Although this resulted in the hundreds and thousands being spread somewhat sparsely, I discovered that they lingered on my palate, leaving it full of a bouquet of flavours. To paraphase that popular television show The Simpsons, "It's like there's a party in my mouth, and everyone's invited!"
SLICE 3
I rested for a time between the creation and consumption of the second slice of fairy bread and the creation and consumption of the third slice, or 'course'. Thus it was after a period of relaxation and meditation that I returned to the duty of fairy bread cooking, full of renewed vigour and creativity. This time, I decided to return to the classics, generously slapping on the butter and creating vast mountains of hundreds and thousands: curlicues of colour! I was richly rewarded for my final outburst of artistic inspiration: for, the moment the bread touched my tongue, I swooned for happiness. O the glory and grandeur that is Rome! O the wonder of fairy bread!
TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION:
- What type of bread is best used for making fairy bread? White slice, wholemeal slice, or other?
- It has been suggested by certain mathematicians and bon vivants that lately, the number of yellow hundreds and thousands available in a bottle of hundreds and thousands has been declining rapidly. What are your observations? Why might this be so?
IN CONCLUSION:
Fairy bread. Eat it.
How to tell if your work colleague is a Care Bear
After writing that last post, I got thinking. How can you tell if your work colleague actually is a Care Bear? In this open, modern society we work with all sorts of people, animals, and things, some of which are bound to be small brightly-coloured animals with a penchant for singing happy songs and performing acts of magic. And, while there is certainly nothing wrong with working in close quarters with a Care Bear, it would be interesting to know the numbers behind it. To that end, I have devised a short survey. To wit...
HOW TO TELL IF YOUR WORK COLLEAGUE IS A CARE BEAR
Part 1 (Multiple choice)
1. in the morning, when your colleague arrives at work, they...
a) Slouch wearily towards the kitchen, muttering to themselves as they stumble into every chair in the office on their way.
b) Greet you with a wild glare of their bloodshot eyes, and sheer, 'At lunch, you will DIE!' at you.
c) Cry happily and rush around the office, kissing everybody/piece of furniture/random object in their way.
d) Skip merrily towards their desk, and lovingly greet each and every one of their clients over the phone.
2. Another colleague is becoming difficult to work with. The suspected Care Bear colleague...
a) Does not raise a fuss, as they are sleeping on their keyboard.
b) Sends them death threats over the office email system, every minute or so.
c) Is not bothered, as they are busy staring at the ceiling, screaming, "I can sing a rainbow!"
d) Cheerily gets on with their work in a productive and efficient manner.
3. You swear over the photocopier, causing your colleague to...
a) Drool on their keyboard.
b) Raise their fingers into a pistol position, poiint them at you, and click.
c) Begin eating their computer.
d) Dance around the office, singing "Everyone has feelings! Feelings are okay!" while magical animated flowers bloom and plastic birds fly around them.
4. When greeting an important client in person, your colleague...
a) Barely opens their eyes, mutters incomprehensibly, scratches their bottom, and perhaps blows their nose on the clients coat.
b) Does a Ted Bundy impersonation.
c) Tries to fly out the window, shouting, "I can fly! Really! I can fly!"
d) Cries, "My innards are made out of polystyrene! How may we help you?"
5. In work meetings, they meet all disputes by...
a) Taping their eyes open and gluing their face into an interested position.
b) Bringing out the battle axes.
c) Depends - it alternates between them weeping softly and cooing like a baby whenever they catch sight of the painting on the wall opposite.
d) Radiating happy rainbows out of their tummy until everyone at the meeting agrees to donate all their savings to a charity for third-world orphaned chimneysweep puppies.
Part 2 (What statement is your client likely to make in any given situation?)
HOW YOU PERFORMED
PART 1
MOSTLY A's: Your colleague is definitely not a Care Bear. They could probably do with a bit more coffee, though.
MOSTLY B's: Again, probably not a Care Bear. Your colleague is clearly within the normal range of human behaviour, and you have nothing to worry about. Apart from the death threats and the constant fear, of course.
MOSTLY C's: This one's a little ambiguous: your colleague is either very, very, very high on hallucinogenic drugs, or a very, very, very depressed Care Bear. Either way, it should make for a fun and amusing working environment!
MOSTLY D's: Definitely Care Bear territory, which is cool, unless you possess any of the qualities of A, B, or C, above.
PART 2
MOSTLY A's: Not Care Bear at all. Just sadly, sickeningly dedicated to their job.
MOSTLY B's: A Care Bear. Did I hear you say it was time to start looking for a new job?
HOW TO TELL IF YOUR WORK COLLEAGUE IS A CARE BEAR
Part 1 (Multiple choice)
1. in the morning, when your colleague arrives at work, they...
a) Slouch wearily towards the kitchen, muttering to themselves as they stumble into every chair in the office on their way.
b) Greet you with a wild glare of their bloodshot eyes, and sheer, 'At lunch, you will DIE!' at you.
c) Cry happily and rush around the office, kissing everybody/piece of furniture/random object in their way.
d) Skip merrily towards their desk, and lovingly greet each and every one of their clients over the phone.
2. Another colleague is becoming difficult to work with. The suspected Care Bear colleague...
a) Does not raise a fuss, as they are sleeping on their keyboard.
b) Sends them death threats over the office email system, every minute or so.
c) Is not bothered, as they are busy staring at the ceiling, screaming, "I can sing a rainbow!"
d) Cheerily gets on with their work in a productive and efficient manner.
3. You swear over the photocopier, causing your colleague to...
a) Drool on their keyboard.
b) Raise their fingers into a pistol position, poiint them at you, and click.
c) Begin eating their computer.
d) Dance around the office, singing "Everyone has feelings! Feelings are okay!" while magical animated flowers bloom and plastic birds fly around them.
4. When greeting an important client in person, your colleague...
a) Barely opens their eyes, mutters incomprehensibly, scratches their bottom, and perhaps blows their nose on the clients coat.
b) Does a Ted Bundy impersonation.
c) Tries to fly out the window, shouting, "I can fly! Really! I can fly!"
d) Cries, "My innards are made out of polystyrene! How may we help you?"
5. In work meetings, they meet all disputes by...
a) Taping their eyes open and gluing their face into an interested position.
b) Bringing out the battle axes.
c) Depends - it alternates between them weeping softly and cooing like a baby whenever they catch sight of the painting on the wall opposite.
d) Radiating happy rainbows out of their tummy until everyone at the meeting agrees to donate all their savings to a charity for third-world orphaned chimneysweep puppies.
Part 2 (What statement is your client likely to make in any given situation?)
| 1) You'll never get away with this... | a) ... after all, you're just a lousy part-time administrative assistant, and I'm the PR manager! b) ... you big, bad Professor Coldheart! |
| 2) It's never too late if you... | a) ... do all the accounting correctly! b) ... care enough! |
| 3) Thanks to you, we have just lost this client! | a) You're FIRED! b) Let's HUG! |
| 4) If anyone requires me after hours, I can be contacted at... | a) My email address, or my mobile number, which are as follows ... b) ... Careland, Cloud Five, just over from Fluffy Bunny World! |
| 5) Although my brains are made out of recycled styrofoam... | a) I promise to be extra-specially efficient in my job! b) I still love you! |
HOW YOU PERFORMED
PART 1
MOSTLY A's: Your colleague is definitely not a Care Bear. They could probably do with a bit more coffee, though.
MOSTLY B's: Again, probably not a Care Bear. Your colleague is clearly within the normal range of human behaviour, and you have nothing to worry about. Apart from the death threats and the constant fear, of course.
MOSTLY C's: This one's a little ambiguous: your colleague is either very, very, very high on hallucinogenic drugs, or a very, very, very depressed Care Bear. Either way, it should make for a fun and amusing working environment!
MOSTLY D's: Definitely Care Bear territory, which is cool, unless you possess any of the qualities of A, B, or C, above.
PART 2
MOSTLY A's: Not Care Bear at all. Just sadly, sickeningly dedicated to their job.
MOSTLY B's: A Care Bear. Did I hear you say it was time to start looking for a new job?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
A glare bear
I've come to the conclusion that one of my co-workers is a Care Bear.
This is not a good thing. Everytime I stumble, bleary-eyed, into the office, there she is on the phone chirruping greetings to some client or other. I barely have a minute every morning to enjoy my own cantankerousness when she's not warbling over the phone to somebody who might be of some importance to some drivelling cretin in accounts. She can't be as happy as she sounds - nobody could be as happy as she sounds.
What can I do to escape this relentless cheer, this assault of niceness, this barrage of bland?
This is not a good thing. Everytime I stumble, bleary-eyed, into the office, there she is on the phone chirruping greetings to some client or other. I barely have a minute every morning to enjoy my own cantankerousness when she's not warbling over the phone to somebody who might be of some importance to some drivelling cretin in accounts. She can't be as happy as she sounds - nobody could be as happy as she sounds.
What can I do to escape this relentless cheer, this assault of niceness, this barrage of bland?
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Anagrams I have encountered recently
RMIT/ TRIM
tram/ mart
connex/ xen con
foaling/ loafing
tops/ spot
creeds/ screed
Gritty realism
Sometimes when I am walking down the street and picking my nose and a police car drives past, I feel as though they're going to finally throw me in the slammer and lock me up for good.
I also get worried if the same thing happens and I'm
- Scratching my bum
- Picking my teeth
- Wearing a shirt that isn't tucked in
- Chewing my fingernails
- Cleaning out my ear.
And yet, if a police officer did the same thing and got taken to the courts, all that would result would be a long-drawn out court case followed by a slap over the wrist, and/or a meaningless political inquiry into the inner workings of the Victorian police force.
We live in a fallen world.
I also get worried if the same thing happens and I'm
- Scratching my bum
- Picking my teeth
- Wearing a shirt that isn't tucked in
- Chewing my fingernails
- Cleaning out my ear.
And yet, if a police officer did the same thing and got taken to the courts, all that would result would be a long-drawn out court case followed by a slap over the wrist, and/or a meaningless political inquiry into the inner workings of the Victorian police force.
We live in a fallen world.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Sunday Grymnal
All things grey or grimy,
All chunders great and small!
All things snotty, slimy -
The Lord God made them all!
Snails with their slimy trails -
And Tiger Cobras' tongues -
And vicious rats with whip-like tails -
And elephantine dung!
All things mean and horrible,
All mucous great and small:
All things really terrible -
The Lord God made them all!
Flies that get in your tea -
And microscopic germs -
And tiny fleas that spread disease -
And parasitic worms!
All things low and nasty,
All terrors great and small -
All floods and files disasterous -
The Lord God made them all!
A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-MEN!
All chunders great and small!
All things snotty, slimy -
The Lord God made them all!
Snails with their slimy trails -
And Tiger Cobras' tongues -
And vicious rats with whip-like tails -
And elephantine dung!
All things mean and horrible,
All mucous great and small:
All things really terrible -
The Lord God made them all!
Flies that get in your tea -
And microscopic germs -
And tiny fleas that spread disease -
And parasitic worms!
All things low and nasty,
All terrors great and small -
All floods and files disasterous -
The Lord God made them all!
A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-MEN!
Politically committed reviews of children's shows #1
Postman Pat
Well, those who want an example of the corruption of the public service under the government of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown need look no further than the Postman Pat. Ostensibly an innocent character who drives around the sunny northern English town of Greendale with his black-and-white cat, Jess, Pat is in fact a corrupt bureaucrat forever take unproductive cups of tea with Mrs Goggins. (As we never see Mr Goggins, we have to assume that she is divorced, and has contributed to the shocking breakdown of the family under the eye of Prime Minister Blair.)
While Pat's friendliness with the village vicar, and his general commitment to community and the English Way of Life is to be commended, it is clear that not all is well in the British Postal Services. The Tory Party hereby calls for an inquiry into the idle, thriftless activities of Pat, the amount of public funds that go into the making of his cups of tea, and his fraternising with decadent characters such as the unmarried Goggins woman. (We also have concerns that Jess may be eating the British red squirrel, but we'll let that slide for the moment.)
Well, those who want an example of the corruption of the public service under the government of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown need look no further than the Postman Pat. Ostensibly an innocent character who drives around the sunny northern English town of Greendale with his black-and-white cat, Jess, Pat is in fact a corrupt bureaucrat forever take unproductive cups of tea with Mrs Goggins. (As we never see Mr Goggins, we have to assume that she is divorced, and has contributed to the shocking breakdown of the family under the eye of Prime Minister Blair.)
While Pat's friendliness with the village vicar, and his general commitment to community and the English Way of Life is to be commended, it is clear that not all is well in the British Postal Services. The Tory Party hereby calls for an inquiry into the idle, thriftless activities of Pat, the amount of public funds that go into the making of his cups of tea, and his fraternising with decadent characters such as the unmarried Goggins woman. (We also have concerns that Jess may be eating the British red squirrel, but we'll let that slide for the moment.)
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Hapless new year
Monday was the old year, and Tuesday was the New Year - that's pretty obvious. But when does the new year become the old year? Are there transitional stages during which the new year gradually turns into the old year, or does the new year suddenly become the old year, perhaps with a loud bang or puff of smoke? Is there a day on which we can see 'Happy not-quite New Year' or 'Happy Three-Days Older than a New Year'?
Come to think of it, at what point can we say that the well-wishing of a 'Happy New Year' is no longer true or viable? If your hand dropped off in the middle of New Year's Day, it would be a little annoying, true, but not really significant of any ongoing trends. But if, on the day after, when both their hand had dropped off and a steam train had collided with their house, then that would be a real bummer; and wishing them a 'Happy New Year' would seem to be a singularly inappropriate and insensitive gesture on your part.
It's a real head-scratcher, it is.
Come to think of it, at what point can we say that the well-wishing of a 'Happy New Year' is no longer true or viable? If your hand dropped off in the middle of New Year's Day, it would be a little annoying, true, but not really significant of any ongoing trends. But if, on the day after, when both their hand had dropped off and a steam train had collided with their house, then that would be a real bummer; and wishing them a 'Happy New Year' would seem to be a singularly inappropriate and insensitive gesture on your part.
It's a real head-scratcher, it is.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Fleas, please
Unlike any other species of flea which has been cultured successfully Spilopsyllus cumculi (Dale) is entirely dependent for its own reproduction upon its host becoming pregnant.... The ovaries of fleas kept on male or non-pregnant female rabbits remain immature whereas those on a pregnant host are mature at the time of parturition. Vitellogenesis commences at a critical point approximately 7 days pre-partum, irrespective of how long the fleas have been on the host. It is postulated that a factor required by the flea for ovarian development is only available during the final week of pregnancy, and not at all in male or non-pregnant rabbits. The factor disappears from the adult after parturition but is present in her nestlings for at least 7 days.
Pregnant rabbits have rabbit fleas
On their backs to bite 'em;
And rabbit pups have baby fleas -
And so on, ad infinitum.
On their backs to bite 'em;
And rabbit pups have baby fleas -
And so on, ad infinitum.
(Okay. So I know Jonathan Swift's version is better, but still, do you know how hard it is to rhyme Spilopsyllus cumculi with anything?)
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
The diet to end all diets
Happy New Year everybody! This year, many people will be making a resolution to be eating healthier and better and more environmentally friendly foods, and I'd like to kick things off by suggesting several such foods for your consumption.
Pavlova and ice-cream: just two healthy foods to be eaten on a regular basis.
Pavlova is an excellent staple diet food that provides all your body will need in protein. It is non-fattening and many scientific studies have shown that it has an excellent effect on the development of the brain. For this reason, it should be fed to babies as soon as it is possible. If necessary, it can be turned into a mush and fed to them with their baby food.
Chocolate is another excellent food, with guaranteed slimming effects. It is a well known fact that Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe, Kathryn Hepburn, and many other famous beauties of stage and screen ate chocolate all the time. If you want to be like them, then a few bars of chocolate every meal is a great start.
For those environmentally-conscious sorts looking for a meal that is satisfying to eat, has minimal impact on the environment, and also is good for your health, I recommend sticky-date pudding with caramel sauce. These days, all sticky date puddings are grown on free-range pudding farms, lovingly tendered and nurtured until they reach the right size for eating. Furthermore, many studies have demonstrated that people who have half a sticky-date pudding for breakfast every morning greatly reduce their risk of coronary disease and memory loss amongst older people. Also, sticky-date pudding prevents cancer.
Ice-cream is now considered by many nutritionists to be a necessary supplement to any healthy diet. It has been shown to have many positive effects on human health. People who regularly eat ice-cream have less colds or flu and also are more likely to be more hard-working and early risers.
For those people who have tried everything else, and just can't seem to get their weight down, perhaps they could turn to pies. Pies have indeed been found to be a wonder food, not only helping people to maintain a nutritious and healthy diet but greatly aiding in their slimming. As a matter of fact, many modern movie stars, such as Nicole Kidman and Jonny Depp, eat nothing but pies.
It will, of course, be necessary to control your fluid intake as well. Thankfully, there are many drinks on the market today with proven benefits for your health and for the environment as well, including milkshakes, beer, vodka, honeyed mead, butterscotch schnapps, triple macchiato, absinthe, coke spiders, and laudanum. Drink regularly in combination with any of the suggested meals above, and soon you will be on your way to health, wealth, and beauty!
FINALLY: Why not plan your meals with a 'diet timetable', updated week by week? Here is an example
Soon you will be laughing at all those poor fools grimacing over their prune juice and frowning over their soya cereals as you eat your way to a happier, healthier, more environmentally-friendly you!
Pavlova and ice-cream: just two healthy foods to be eaten on a regular basis.
Pavlova is an excellent staple diet food that provides all your body will need in protein. It is non-fattening and many scientific studies have shown that it has an excellent effect on the development of the brain. For this reason, it should be fed to babies as soon as it is possible. If necessary, it can be turned into a mush and fed to them with their baby food.
Chocolate is another excellent food, with guaranteed slimming effects. It is a well known fact that Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe, Kathryn Hepburn, and many other famous beauties of stage and screen ate chocolate all the time. If you want to be like them, then a few bars of chocolate every meal is a great start.
For those environmentally-conscious sorts looking for a meal that is satisfying to eat, has minimal impact on the environment, and also is good for your health, I recommend sticky-date pudding with caramel sauce. These days, all sticky date puddings are grown on free-range pudding farms, lovingly tendered and nurtured until they reach the right size for eating. Furthermore, many studies have demonstrated that people who have half a sticky-date pudding for breakfast every morning greatly reduce their risk of coronary disease and memory loss amongst older people. Also, sticky-date pudding prevents cancer.
Ice-cream is now considered by many nutritionists to be a necessary supplement to any healthy diet. It has been shown to have many positive effects on human health. People who regularly eat ice-cream have less colds or flu and also are more likely to be more hard-working and early risers.
For those people who have tried everything else, and just can't seem to get their weight down, perhaps they could turn to pies. Pies have indeed been found to be a wonder food, not only helping people to maintain a nutritious and healthy diet but greatly aiding in their slimming. As a matter of fact, many modern movie stars, such as Nicole Kidman and Jonny Depp, eat nothing but pies.
It will, of course, be necessary to control your fluid intake as well. Thankfully, there are many drinks on the market today with proven benefits for your health and for the environment as well, including milkshakes, beer, vodka, honeyed mead, butterscotch schnapps, triple macchiato, absinthe, coke spiders, and laudanum. Drink regularly in combination with any of the suggested meals above, and soon you will be on your way to health, wealth, and beauty!
FINALLY: Why not plan your meals with a 'diet timetable', updated week by week? Here is an example
| Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday | Sunday | |
| Breakfast | Pies Schnapps | Icecream Coke spider | Pavlova Milkshake | Pavlova Milkshake | Chocolate Triple macchiato | Sticky date pudding absinthe | Pies Beer |
| Lunch | Chocolate Schnapps | Pavlova Beer | Chocolate Laudanum | Icecream Butterscotch schnapps | Chocolate Honeyed mead | Pies Laudanum | Chocolate Coke spider |
| Dinner | Pies Beer | Chocolate Coke spider | Icecream Beer | Chocolate Laudanum | Icecream Beer | Icream Triple macchiato | Icecream Butterscotch schnaps |
Soon you will be laughing at all those poor fools grimacing over their prune juice and frowning over their soya cereals as you eat your way to a happier, healthier, more environmentally-friendly you!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Great philosophical debates presented in the form of food
1. An ontological proposition about the tastiest blancmange
- There is a blancmange that is defined as tastier than all the rest.
- Something that exists is tastier than something that does not exist.
- Therefore, the tastiest blancmange exists.
2. The meeting of Hume and Rousseau
HUME: Strawberries and cream! I put it to you, my dear fellow: you can choose to accept it or not!
ROUSSEAU: Whipped cream?
HUME: No, straight from the cow.
ROUSSEAU: Sacre bleu! I prefer mutton chops!
HUME: Sausages, perhaps?
ROUSSEAU: On these points, a compromise must be found. Potatoes with butter stuffing?
HUME: Pumpkin, I think.
ROUSSEAU: Pumpkin it is then.
3. Nietzsche's complex relationship to sponge cake
The sponge cake is gone. The sponge cake remains gone. And we have eaten it. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has disappeared under our knives: who will wipe this cream off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become sponge cakes simply to appear worthy of it?
However, Kierkegaard later modified Nietzsche's 'we must become as the sponge cake was' theorem to 'we all live in the eternal sponge cake. It is so much more sponge cake than we can ever be. Let us all eat it and rejoice.'
4. A recipe for Plato's Republic
- Take a liberal serving of philosophers.
- Sprinkle lightly with Socratic dialogue, marinate.
- Stew them in their own aphorisms.
- Serve, as philosopher kings, with cheese and a dash of salt.
5. Syllogisms
- Only fools eat snot.
- Heinrich is a fool.
Therefore: Heinrich eats snot.
- Some bananas are green.
- The supermarket frequently stocks yellow bananas.
- Marilyn buys only green bananas.
Therefore: Marilyn does not buy bananas from the supermarket frequently.
- Hedgehogs taste the best when made with Arrowroot biscuit.
- Esmerelda's hedgehogs are not made with Arrowroot biscuit.
Therefore: Esmerelda's hedgehogs do not taste the best.
6. Aphorism
- Those who can, eat; those who can't, nibble.
- Man cannot live his life on bread alone, but with jam things look pretty bright.
- How many creaming sodas must a man pour down before he can go to the toilet?
See also: Thus Ate Zarathustra, by Woody Allen
- There is a blancmange that is defined as tastier than all the rest.
- Something that exists is tastier than something that does not exist.
- Therefore, the tastiest blancmange exists.
2. The meeting of Hume and Rousseau
HUME: Strawberries and cream! I put it to you, my dear fellow: you can choose to accept it or not!
ROUSSEAU: Whipped cream?
HUME: No, straight from the cow.
ROUSSEAU: Sacre bleu! I prefer mutton chops!
HUME: Sausages, perhaps?
ROUSSEAU: On these points, a compromise must be found. Potatoes with butter stuffing?
HUME: Pumpkin, I think.
ROUSSEAU: Pumpkin it is then.
3. Nietzsche's complex relationship to sponge cake
The sponge cake is gone. The sponge cake remains gone. And we have eaten it. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has disappeared under our knives: who will wipe this cream off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become sponge cakes simply to appear worthy of it?
However, Kierkegaard later modified Nietzsche's 'we must become as the sponge cake was' theorem to 'we all live in the eternal sponge cake. It is so much more sponge cake than we can ever be. Let us all eat it and rejoice.'
4. A recipe for Plato's Republic
- Take a liberal serving of philosophers.
- Sprinkle lightly with Socratic dialogue, marinate.
- Stew them in their own aphorisms.
- Serve, as philosopher kings, with cheese and a dash of salt.
5. Syllogisms
- Only fools eat snot.
- Heinrich is a fool.
Therefore: Heinrich eats snot.
- Some bananas are green.
- The supermarket frequently stocks yellow bananas.
- Marilyn buys only green bananas.
Therefore: Marilyn does not buy bananas from the supermarket frequently.
- Hedgehogs taste the best when made with Arrowroot biscuit.
- Esmerelda's hedgehogs are not made with Arrowroot biscuit.
Therefore: Esmerelda's hedgehogs do not taste the best.
6. Aphorism
- Those who can, eat; those who can't, nibble.
- Man cannot live his life on bread alone, but with jam things look pretty bright.
- How many creaming sodas must a man pour down before he can go to the toilet?
See also: Thus Ate Zarathustra, by Woody Allen
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Pious in the skious
(The other day I managed to get a high-scoring word, 'Theogony', on the board while playing Scrabble-meister Lexicon. I promptly wrote this song, originally with that word 'featuring prominently. Though the meaning didn't quite fit, so I changed it to 'theology'. This is dedicated with gratitude to her.)
THEOLOGY
(As performed by the Bee Gees)
Theology!
When omniscience just makes no sense -
Theology!
When you can't sort out your testaments -
When you're not sure
If you're agnostic
Or just a gnostic...
Theology!
When you can't relate free will with fate -
Theology!
When you're parables are terrible -
And the psalms
No longer calm
Is there a first cause...
Book by book
There's a questing down inside of me:
Questioning -
With a doubt that won't let me be -
And I should have known -
I really should be knowing you
Knowing you knowing you
Proving you...
Theology!
When you can't tell your losses from your prophets -
Theology!
When you can't tell your angels from your hobbits -
I just can't see
I think I'll take up
Theosophy...
Theology!
When you really need a decent creed -
Theology!
When you're going blind but you don't mind -
And Paul says, Well
You ain't en route to hell
But just to Damascus...
Theology!
THEOLOGY
(As performed by the Bee Gees)
Theology!
When omniscience just makes no sense -
Theology!
When you can't sort out your testaments -
When you're not sure
If you're agnostic
Or just a gnostic...
Theology!
When you can't relate free will with fate -
Theology!
When you're parables are terrible -
And the psalms
No longer calm
Is there a first cause...
Book by book
There's a questing down inside of me:
Questioning -
With a doubt that won't let me be -
And I should have known -
I really should be knowing you
Knowing you knowing you
Proving you...
Theology!
When you can't tell your losses from your prophets -
Theology!
When you can't tell your angels from your hobbits -
I just can't see
I think I'll take up
Theosophy...
Theology!
When you really need a decent creed -
Theology!
When you're going blind but you don't mind -
And Paul says, Well
You ain't en route to hell
But just to Damascus...
Theology!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
By the terrifying power of blog comments, I condemn you to poverty
Check this out.
I made a comment the other day on Tim Worstall's blog about how it's probably not a good idea for five-year old children to be forced into slave labour. The comment is subject to a slight ambiguity, which is why I got challenged by another commenter. After making two short clarifications, I get subjected to a huge blast in which I'm accused of 'moral preening', 'trying to force third-word economies into your Procrustean mold'*, of 'condemning not merely legions of children, but legions of their children to misery and poverty' and making an attempt to 'keep poor people poorer for longer'.
I love the internet.
*Not sure what this means, but how do you do this by making a comment on a blog?
I made a comment the other day on Tim Worstall's blog about how it's probably not a good idea for five-year old children to be forced into slave labour. The comment is subject to a slight ambiguity, which is why I got challenged by another commenter. After making two short clarifications, I get subjected to a huge blast in which I'm accused of 'moral preening', 'trying to force third-word economies into your Procrustean mold'*, of 'condemning not merely legions of children, but legions of their children to misery and poverty' and making an attempt to 'keep poor people poorer for longer'.
I love the internet.
*Not sure what this means, but how do you do this by making a comment on a blog?
Friday, December 28, 2007
The sorrows of young Pacman
Facebook has an application that lets you play Pacman!
As you probably know, Pacman is a game from the 80s where a little yellow guy (Pacman) gets to go around and around a maze eating little dots and outrunning differently-coloured little goombahs (you lose a life if you touch them). Occasionally, Pacman eats a big dot and all the goombahs turn blue for a short time - whereupon he gets to eat them, too.
Unfortunately, Facebook doesn't give you the option of playing some of the more modern versions of Pacman. Let me explain...
POLITICALLY SENSITIVE PACMAN
In this version of Pacman, instead of going around a circle outracing differently-coloured little goombahs, Pacman sits down with the goombahs and attempts to enter negotiations with them. Pacman asks himself the question 'Am I really different from these goombahs?' Pacman tries to discover the root economic and social causes that have led these goombahs to turn to goombah-dom. If he discovers the right economic and social causes, the goombahs all turn blue and Pacman eats them.
MARXIST PACMAN
In this game, the goombahs form a committee and divide the dots equitably amongst themselves and Pacman. Pacman becomes a citizen of the goombah state subsisting on a meagre diet of one dot per life. The goombahs set the large dots aside as part of their plan to 'redistribute wealth'. Then they eat Pacman.
NEO-CON PACMAN
Pacman blames Saddam Hussein for causing the goombahs and invades Iraq. Then the goombahs eat him.
ANTI-CONSUMERIST PACMAN
In this version, the goombahs set up a committee to lobby the government about what they call 'Pacman's excessive consumption of dot resources'. Another committee of goombahs express concerns about the problem of childhood obesity in the Pacman community. Another commitee of goombahs prepares a petition asking for an inquiry into the environmental effects of Pacman's overuse of dot resources. Another group of goombahs bicker amongst themselves over how the natural effects of Pacman's use of dot resources can be minimised.
While they are all arguing amongst themselves Pacman eats a big dot, the goombahs turn blue, and he eats them all. He then becomes anxious about his own excessive over-consumption of goombahs, becomes goombah-bulimic, and checks himself into a public hospital run by a goombah committee, who eat him.
INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS PACMAN
This is the latest version of Pacman. In this version, Pacman goes on a strike until he receives a greater pay ration of dots for the number of blue goombahs that he eats, and the goombahs hold a stop work meeting, arguing that they should be protected from being eaten by Pacman. When the game player replies that this is a stupid game, and that Pacman should just get back to eating dots, both Pacman and the blue goombahs eat the player. Then the game starts again.
As you probably know, Pacman is a game from the 80s where a little yellow guy (Pacman) gets to go around and around a maze eating little dots and outrunning differently-coloured little goombahs (you lose a life if you touch them). Occasionally, Pacman eats a big dot and all the goombahs turn blue for a short time - whereupon he gets to eat them, too.
Unfortunately, Facebook doesn't give you the option of playing some of the more modern versions of Pacman. Let me explain...
POLITICALLY SENSITIVE PACMAN
In this version of Pacman, instead of going around a circle outracing differently-coloured little goombahs, Pacman sits down with the goombahs and attempts to enter negotiations with them. Pacman asks himself the question 'Am I really different from these goombahs?' Pacman tries to discover the root economic and social causes that have led these goombahs to turn to goombah-dom. If he discovers the right economic and social causes, the goombahs all turn blue and Pacman eats them.
MARXIST PACMAN
In this game, the goombahs form a committee and divide the dots equitably amongst themselves and Pacman. Pacman becomes a citizen of the goombah state subsisting on a meagre diet of one dot per life. The goombahs set the large dots aside as part of their plan to 'redistribute wealth'. Then they eat Pacman.
NEO-CON PACMAN
Pacman blames Saddam Hussein for causing the goombahs and invades Iraq. Then the goombahs eat him.
ANTI-CONSUMERIST PACMAN
In this version, the goombahs set up a committee to lobby the government about what they call 'Pacman's excessive consumption of dot resources'. Another committee of goombahs express concerns about the problem of childhood obesity in the Pacman community. Another commitee of goombahs prepares a petition asking for an inquiry into the environmental effects of Pacman's overuse of dot resources. Another group of goombahs bicker amongst themselves over how the natural effects of Pacman's use of dot resources can be minimised.
While they are all arguing amongst themselves Pacman eats a big dot, the goombahs turn blue, and he eats them all. He then becomes anxious about his own excessive over-consumption of goombahs, becomes goombah-bulimic, and checks himself into a public hospital run by a goombah committee, who eat him.
INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS PACMAN
This is the latest version of Pacman. In this version, Pacman goes on a strike until he receives a greater pay ration of dots for the number of blue goombahs that he eats, and the goombahs hold a stop work meeting, arguing that they should be protected from being eaten by Pacman. When the game player replies that this is a stupid game, and that Pacman should just get back to eating dots, both Pacman and the blue goombahs eat the player. Then the game starts again.
NT notes...
On first arriving in Alice Springs
Went to a cafe. Then, at my brother's urging, went to see a film about a dude called 'Mr Magorium' whose principal dramatic function was to have a name that rhymed with 'Wonder Emporium'. Then went to have lunch at a Subway.
The natural sublimity and awesomeness nature of this place is almost overwhelming...
Attack of the Slightly Outdated Murals!
I remember when I was a kid, one year at Balranald Central School they made us all walk two blocks to the town oval and paint a mural on the big water tank there. Another time they made the entire Year 8 art class paint the wall outside the woodwork and technology building, perhaps to add a decorative effect to the gigantic square of concrete that it bordered.
Driving into Alice Springs I was reminded of this - the town was covered with these sort of murals. One random back-street wall had Astroboy and the Powerpuff Girls in prominent positions. Most garishly of all, the Todd River Mall was graced by a gigantic painted mural of an Aboriginal in a loincloth.
Badgering
EUAN: I need a battery.
LACHLAN: You need a what?
EUAN: I need a watch battery.
LACHLAN: A watch badger? What is a watch badger?
TIM: A badger who watches. Just like a watch dog.
LACHLAN: Oh yeah, obviously. I dunno. Is there any place in Alice Springs that sells badgers? Tim, you have watch badgers in Melbourne, don't you?
TIM: Oh yes. I have given birth to badgers.
LACHLAN: We'll get some badgers after lunch. At the local badgery.
Random observation
If on Christmas Day you decide to go playing frisbee in the pool, don't be too surprised if the dogs join you. Also, they may just be better than you at catching the frisbee.
From henceforth, I shall be known as Tim 'Bested By A Dog' Train.
Holiday conversation
LACHLAN: Would you like another beer?
TIM: Errrrrr....
LACHLAN: I'll take that as a yes.
(For time of conversation, please insert the words 'Christmas Eve', 'Christmas Morning before breakfast', 'Christmas morning during breakfast', 'Anytime during Christmas day', 'Christmas evening', or any combination thereof.)
Local observations
- There seem to be a hell of a lot of places up north that are, quite literally, holes. Seriously. They all have names like 'Gap' and 'Gorge' and 'Chasm', and there's even, simply, 'Ellery's Big Hole'. My mother has a photograph of herself by 'Helen's Gap', and on Boxing Day, we all went on an excursion to 'Emily Gap' and 'Jessie Gap', basically a hole between two hills. My father at one point made the stunning observation about Emily Gap that 'these rocks are probably metamorphic'. Having performed the rather unimpressive feat of climbing one of the hills at this Gap, I can find nothing to contradict his observation.
- Large indigenous population in Alice Springs. Lots are sitting around on town corners and the like, but there's one place that I noticed about thirty or so indigenous people sitting around. The name? 'Aboriginal Employment Centre'.
- Ever the model of adaptability and thrift, the Alice Springs police station, on renovating their building, simply set up shop outside with a single police van and fold up card table. They work hard, those police force, all right!
- When I asked my brother a bit about the local alcohol laws since the much-touted Federal Government intervention, he explained that many of the indigenous population went outside the border of the town to drink (there's a law against drinking in public places). Alcohol was also banned in Aboriginal communities, for some reason. (I'm guessing because some are based around community housing, and hence designated as 'public place').
Favourite northern linguistic innovation
Wallaby = Wobbly
Went to a cafe. Then, at my brother's urging, went to see a film about a dude called 'Mr Magorium' whose principal dramatic function was to have a name that rhymed with 'Wonder Emporium'. Then went to have lunch at a Subway.
The natural sublimity and awesomeness nature of this place is almost overwhelming...
Attack of the Slightly Outdated Murals!
I remember when I was a kid, one year at Balranald Central School they made us all walk two blocks to the town oval and paint a mural on the big water tank there. Another time they made the entire Year 8 art class paint the wall outside the woodwork and technology building, perhaps to add a decorative effect to the gigantic square of concrete that it bordered.
Driving into Alice Springs I was reminded of this - the town was covered with these sort of murals. One random back-street wall had Astroboy and the Powerpuff Girls in prominent positions. Most garishly of all, the Todd River Mall was graced by a gigantic painted mural of an Aboriginal in a loincloth.
Badgering
EUAN: I need a battery.
LACHLAN: You need a what?
EUAN: I need a watch battery.
LACHLAN: A watch badger? What is a watch badger?
TIM: A badger who watches. Just like a watch dog.
LACHLAN: Oh yeah, obviously. I dunno. Is there any place in Alice Springs that sells badgers? Tim, you have watch badgers in Melbourne, don't you?
TIM: Oh yes. I have given birth to badgers.
LACHLAN: We'll get some badgers after lunch. At the local badgery.
Random observation
If on Christmas Day you decide to go playing frisbee in the pool, don't be too surprised if the dogs join you. Also, they may just be better than you at catching the frisbee.
From henceforth, I shall be known as Tim 'Bested By A Dog' Train.
Holiday conversation
LACHLAN: Would you like another beer?
TIM: Errrrrr....
LACHLAN: I'll take that as a yes.
(For time of conversation, please insert the words 'Christmas Eve', 'Christmas Morning before breakfast', 'Christmas morning during breakfast', 'Anytime during Christmas day', 'Christmas evening', or any combination thereof.)
Local observations
- There seem to be a hell of a lot of places up north that are, quite literally, holes. Seriously. They all have names like 'Gap' and 'Gorge' and 'Chasm', and there's even, simply, 'Ellery's Big Hole'. My mother has a photograph of herself by 'Helen's Gap', and on Boxing Day, we all went on an excursion to 'Emily Gap' and 'Jessie Gap', basically a hole between two hills. My father at one point made the stunning observation about Emily Gap that 'these rocks are probably metamorphic'. Having performed the rather unimpressive feat of climbing one of the hills at this Gap, I can find nothing to contradict his observation.
- Large indigenous population in Alice Springs. Lots are sitting around on town corners and the like, but there's one place that I noticed about thirty or so indigenous people sitting around. The name? 'Aboriginal Employment Centre'.
- Ever the model of adaptability and thrift, the Alice Springs police station, on renovating their building, simply set up shop outside with a single police van and fold up card table. They work hard, those police force, all right!
- When I asked my brother a bit about the local alcohol laws since the much-touted Federal Government intervention, he explained that many of the indigenous population went outside the border of the town to drink (there's a law against drinking in public places). Alcohol was also banned in Aboriginal communities, for some reason. (I'm guessing because some are based around community housing, and hence designated as 'public place').
Favourite northern linguistic innovation
Wallaby = Wobbly
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Seen on the noticeboard of the Alice Springs IGA
FOR SALE: 4 YEAR OLD DIAMONDBACK SNAKE
VERY HEALTHY
BIG EATER
MUST HAVE SNAKE EXPERIENCE
AND PERMIT
Me: Can I buy those in bulk? Do you get many orders at Christmas?
VERY HEALTHY
BIG EATER
MUST HAVE SNAKE EXPERIENCE
AND PERMIT
Me: Can I buy those in bulk? Do you get many orders at Christmas?
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Craption contest two!
I'm going up to Alice Springs for a couple of days over Christmas. I'm telling here not just because misery loves company, but also to let you know I'll probably be offline for a couple of days.
In the meantime, maybe we'll have another craption contest. Here's a couple of pictures of a local yokel who lives around here. Can you think of an uninteresting and uninspiring caption to go with each of them? Cheers everyone, and merry Christmas!
In the meantime, maybe we'll have another craption contest. Here's a couple of pictures of a local yokel who lives around here. Can you think of an uninteresting and uninspiring caption to go with each of them? Cheers everyone, and merry Christmas!
Atheist Christmas carols
Away in according to certain popularly held myths a manger
Away in according to certain popularly held myths a manager
No crib for a bed,
The little according to a number of outdated superstitions regarding the existence of supernatural authorities Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The cattle are lowing,
The baby awakes -
The little according to a number of outdated superstitions regarding the existence of supernatural authorities Lord Jesus,
No sound does he make.
No joy to the world!
No joy to the world!
The Lord hasn't come!
Earth won't receive her king!
Let every heart not prepare him room!
And heaven and nature not sing!
And heaven and nature not sing!
And heaven, and heaven and nature not sing!
Silent night, normal night
Silent night, normal night
All is (relatively) calm, all is (as far as can humanly be expected), quiet:
Round yon non-virginal person, mother and child
Ordinary non-holy infant, so tender and mild:
Sleep in unheavenly pea-eace!
Sleep in unheavenly peace.
Hark the herald hallucinations sing
Hark the herald hallucinations sing
Glory to our newbornKing non-democratically elected dictator.
Peace on earth and mercy mild:
God Heavenly entity who doesn't exist and human reconciled.
O come all ye faithless
O come all ye faithless
Joyless and triumphless:
Come all ye, o come to see
Christ (who isn't) the Lord!
Come all ye faithless,
Joyless and triumphless:
O come let us not adore him -
O come let us not adore him -
O come let us not adore him -
Christ (who isn't) the Lord!
We wish you a merry pagan festival
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
And a happy new year!
Good tidings we bring
To you and your kin
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas
And a happy new year!
Away in according to certain popularly held myths a manager
No crib for a bed,
The little according to a number of outdated superstitions regarding the existence of supernatural authorities Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The cattle are lowing,
The baby awakes -
The little according to a number of outdated superstitions regarding the existence of supernatural authorities Lord Jesus,
No sound does he make.
No joy to the world!
No joy to the world!
The Lord hasn't come!
Earth won't receive her king!
Let every heart not prepare him room!
And heaven and nature not sing!
And heaven and nature not sing!
And heaven, and heaven and nature not sing!
Silent night, normal night
Silent night, normal night
All is (relatively) calm, all is (as far as can humanly be expected), quiet:
Round yon non-virginal person, mother and child
Ordinary non-holy infant, so tender and mild:
Sleep in unheavenly pea-eace!
Sleep in unheavenly peace.
Hark the herald hallucinations sing
Hark the herald hallucinations sing
Glory to our newborn
Peace on earth and mercy mild:
O come all ye faithless
O come all ye faithless
Joyless and triumphless:
Come all ye, o come to see
Christ (who isn't) the Lord!
Come all ye faithless,
Joyless and triumphless:
O come let us not adore him -
O come let us not adore him -
O come let us not adore him -
Christ (who isn't) the Lord!
We wish you a merry pagan festival
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas,
And a happy new year!
Good tidings we bring
To you and your kin
We wish you a merry pagan festival that has come to be known as Christmas
And a happy new year!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Just ask the hat
A Pithy Helmet.
The Hencyclopaedia Britannica.
Mumble Pie.
Babbage's Indifference Engine.
The Hencyclopaedia Britannica.
Mumble Pie.
Babbage's Indifference Engine.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Addicted to quitting
"I tried to stop!" cries John H. "I really did! But how can I give up giving up? It's just too confusing!"
John H. has a problem: he is addicted. Addicted to quitting cigarettes!
Addiction to quitting is a problem of increasing concern in Australia today. Everyday, millions of people like John H. give up cigarettes, often not for the first time. Before they know it, they quit cigarettes again and again and again, sending themselves into a spiral of quitting. They find themselves unable to admit to their addiction to quitting their addiction, and as a result are unable to quit their addiction to quitting for good.
AND REMEMBER: ADMITTING YOU DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM IS THE FIRST STEP!
CALL THE DON'T QUIT LINE TODAY!
John H. has a problem: he is addicted. Addicted to quitting cigarettes!
Addiction to quitting is a problem of increasing concern in Australia today. Everyday, millions of people like John H. give up cigarettes, often not for the first time. Before they know it, they quit cigarettes again and again and again, sending themselves into a spiral of quitting. They find themselves unable to admit to their addiction to quitting their addiction, and as a result are unable to quit their addiction to quitting for good.
"I tried to quit on Tuesday" says Rebecca. "Then I took it up again on the weekend, and had to quit all over again on the Monday morning. The stress was really ruining me!"Now, help is at hand. The 'Don't Quit' line is open for business, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's there to help smokers not give up just because of 'peer group pressure' and 'social influences' which cause them to put so much strain on themselves and others. It reminds smokers of the feeling of calm satisfaction and pleasure they get when they light up, and of the simple benefits of camaraderie and sociability that smoking gives them. The 'Don't Quit' line currently has a 60 per cent success rate in getting quitters to quit their quitting and reaffirm their commitment to their addiction. But they can go even better! So why don't you call the 'Don't Quit' line today?
"My fellow workers were all scowling at me when I went outside to light up," says Leanne. "So I decided to quit. It took me weeks of pain and repeated attempts to give up cigarettes before I realised the reason all my fellow workers hated me was - they were trying to quit as well! It was ridiculous!"
AND REMEMBER: ADMITTING YOU DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM IS THE FIRST STEP!
CALL THE DON'T QUIT LINE TODAY!
A seasonable song
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
They're green in summer, winter drear
Because they're made of polymer!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
Your bark is toxic styrofoam!
And marked 'keep out of reach of children in your home'!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
They're green in summer, winter drear
Because they're made of polymer!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
Your bark is toxic styrofoam!
And marked 'keep out of reach of children in your home'!
O plastic tree! O plastic tree!
Much pleasure thou can'st give me!
Monday, December 17, 2007
A piece of the distraction
I was reading this post on Dot and Mars about how Mars almost had an epiphany. Which is to say, she had a series of random thoughts about unrelated matters that almost led up to a deep and profound discovery about the nature of life, but then got distracted and didn't make the discovery after all.
Now, I have to say, that out of all the things that don't happen in the world, an almost epiphany is one of the nicest. Why, there must have been times in all of our lives when we've thought a series of random thoughts that almost led up to a profound discovery but then we got distracted and didn't. Almost epiphanies come in all shapes and forms: there is the revelation that you didn't quite have about String Theory and quantum physics on the evening after dinner last week, and the sublime insight into the nature of God that you were distracted from having today at work. Sometimes you might be idly pondering cows, and your pondering might cause you to almost-but-not-quite solve Fermat's Last Theorem. At other times, you might be contendedly meditating on sausages, a meditation which will all of a sudden just fail to give you a stunning insight into Freud's theory of the subconscious.
Interestingly, there's no telling what sort of form your almost epiphany will take. Your random thoughts about Fermat's Last Theorem might just as well lead to an almost-but-not-quite epiphany about cows as the other way around, for instance. And a series of unrelated thoughts about an abstruse chess problem, frogs and puddings might suddenly lead you to almost make a curious discovery about a complicated origami design, or even stunning thoughts about grass. It all really depends on just how you choose to get distracted at the time. Which, paradoxically, you can't.*
The nicest thing of all about almost epiphanies is that it doesn't matter who you are - you'll have them anyway. Ethical philosophers may be paid to philosophise ethically, but that niggling almost epiphany about black cats is just one thought away. And theoretical particle physicists may fulfill a vital need by laying out the laws of the universe, but even they can't help stumbling on not-quite profound thoughts about lemonade.
I'll see you all later. I'm off to have a disconnected series of thoughts about orange shoes that may or may not reveal to me the secrets of existence.
*If you find yourself getting distracted by this distraction business, just remember what Douglas Adams said about flying: all you have to do is fall to the ground and miss it. Or, alternatively, don't.
Now, I have to say, that out of all the things that don't happen in the world, an almost epiphany is one of the nicest. Why, there must have been times in all of our lives when we've thought a series of random thoughts that almost led up to a profound discovery but then we got distracted and didn't. Almost epiphanies come in all shapes and forms: there is the revelation that you didn't quite have about String Theory and quantum physics on the evening after dinner last week, and the sublime insight into the nature of God that you were distracted from having today at work. Sometimes you might be idly pondering cows, and your pondering might cause you to almost-but-not-quite solve Fermat's Last Theorem. At other times, you might be contendedly meditating on sausages, a meditation which will all of a sudden just fail to give you a stunning insight into Freud's theory of the subconscious.
Interestingly, there's no telling what sort of form your almost epiphany will take. Your random thoughts about Fermat's Last Theorem might just as well lead to an almost-but-not-quite epiphany about cows as the other way around, for instance. And a series of unrelated thoughts about an abstruse chess problem, frogs and puddings might suddenly lead you to almost make a curious discovery about a complicated origami design, or even stunning thoughts about grass. It all really depends on just how you choose to get distracted at the time. Which, paradoxically, you can't.*
The nicest thing of all about almost epiphanies is that it doesn't matter who you are - you'll have them anyway. Ethical philosophers may be paid to philosophise ethically, but that niggling almost epiphany about black cats is just one thought away. And theoretical particle physicists may fulfill a vital need by laying out the laws of the universe, but even they can't help stumbling on not-quite profound thoughts about lemonade.
I'll see you all later. I'm off to have a disconnected series of thoughts about orange shoes that may or may not reveal to me the secrets of existence.
*If you find yourself getting distracted by this distraction business, just remember what Douglas Adams said about flying: all you have to do is fall to the ground and miss it. Or, alternatively, don't.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Self-defeating ideas
Ku Klux Klan Diversity Sub-committee
Sending Braille messages by telegram
Surgical decapitation
Elevators on top floors
Having a dwarf president to look up to
The Individualists' Society*
Peace negotiations between dog-kind and cat-hood
Sunglasses for evening wear
Turning up early for a Prevaricators Party
God, the atheist
Vegetarian cannibals
*But not The Individualist's Society.
Sending Braille messages by telegram
Surgical decapitation
Elevators on top floors
Having a dwarf president to look up to
The Individualists' Society*
Peace negotiations between dog-kind and cat-hood
Sunglasses for evening wear
Turning up early for a Prevaricators Party
God, the atheist
Vegetarian cannibals
*But not The Individualist's Society.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Bark, the feral angels sing
So, Christmas carols, then. I like them as much as the next weirdo, but what do they actually mean? The bloody things are full of paradoxes: 'Hark the herald angels sing' is all well and good, but are we meant to hark to what the herald angels are singing, or are the herald angels just singing hark for the hell of it? And just what is all this harking business, anyway? It sounds like an onomatopeaic rendering of a common bodily function. Again, it's easy enough to understand what 'Fa la la la la la la la la' means (even if you don't agree with it), but how does one 'troll the ancient yuletide carol'?
Some carols are so full of 'Joy' and 'Merry' and what-not that you actually feel slightly ill after listening to the words. You'd think that only a chronic optimist could come up with the words of 'Merry Christmas':
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a happy new year.
Enough with the merry! It's basically like the 'Happy happy joy joy song' gone bad, but it gets worse:
Good tidings we bring
To you and our king...
Those good tidings being -
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a happy new year!
Clearly, we are dealing with a monomaniac of some intensity. This psychopathology, as disturbing as it is, pales in insignificance when it is compared to the mother-of-all stalker songs, 'The 12 days of Christmas', when the obsessive - tagged with the somewhat ironic soubriquet of 'My true love' - sends to his victim, in quick succession:
A partridge in a pear tree
Two turtle doves
Three French hens
Four calling birds
Five gold rings.
Not to be outdone with five gold rings, he follows this up with -
Six geese a-laying
Seven swans a-swimming
And then, hoisting caution to the wind, concludes with
Eight maids a-milking
(Presumably with complementary cows, as the maids have to be milking something)
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords a-leaping
Eleven pipers piping
and
Twelve drummers drumming.
Though, from the words of the song, it's not entirely clear whether he is content with sending her one partridge, two turtle doves (etc) for the whole period of the twelve days of Christmas, or whether he sends her one partidge on the first day, one on the second day, two turtle doves on the second day, two on the third day (etc, and the same for all the other gifts - which would, in the end, number in the hundreds). Either way, he's clearly insane, and hopefully the police have got him now.
Personally, I like to steer clear of the later Christmas carols, where Santa Claus, that bearded old loon with a beard and a 'list' that he's 'checking twice' to see whether you've been 'naughty or nice'. What the hell is he, the hallway monitor? Anyway, he's not the only one with a list.
So, reader, what's your favourite Christmas carol - or, to put it another way, your least unfavourite? Mine is possibly 'I Saw Three Ships' or 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'.
Some carols are so full of 'Joy' and 'Merry' and what-not that you actually feel slightly ill after listening to the words. You'd think that only a chronic optimist could come up with the words of 'Merry Christmas':
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a happy new year.
Enough with the merry! It's basically like the 'Happy happy joy joy song' gone bad, but it gets worse:
Good tidings we bring
To you and our king...
Those good tidings being -
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a happy new year!
Clearly, we are dealing with a monomaniac of some intensity. This psychopathology, as disturbing as it is, pales in insignificance when it is compared to the mother-of-all stalker songs, 'The 12 days of Christmas', when the obsessive - tagged with the somewhat ironic soubriquet of 'My true love' - sends to his victim, in quick succession:
A partridge in a pear tree
Two turtle doves
Three French hens
Four calling birds
Five gold rings.
Not to be outdone with five gold rings, he follows this up with -
Six geese a-laying
Seven swans a-swimming
And then, hoisting caution to the wind, concludes with
Eight maids a-milking
(Presumably with complementary cows, as the maids have to be milking something)
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords a-leaping
Eleven pipers piping
and
Twelve drummers drumming.
Though, from the words of the song, it's not entirely clear whether he is content with sending her one partridge, two turtle doves (etc) for the whole period of the twelve days of Christmas, or whether he sends her one partidge on the first day, one on the second day, two turtle doves on the second day, two on the third day (etc, and the same for all the other gifts - which would, in the end, number in the hundreds). Either way, he's clearly insane, and hopefully the police have got him now.
Personally, I like to steer clear of the later Christmas carols, where Santa Claus, that bearded old loon with a beard and a 'list' that he's 'checking twice' to see whether you've been 'naughty or nice'. What the hell is he, the hallway monitor? Anyway, he's not the only one with a list.
So, reader, what's your favourite Christmas carol - or, to put it another way, your least unfavourite? Mine is possibly 'I Saw Three Ships' or 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Blood, sweat and tears - with bonus kid!
For no reason at all, a random kid just ran through my workplace shouting 'Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!' in a repetitive and flat tone of voice.
What an intelligent child. Some day, if I stick with this job and work very hard, I might become like that.
What an intelligent child. Some day, if I stick with this job and work very hard, I might become like that.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
An unemergency of some urgency
Headline seen yesterday:
(The story concerned bushfires in an area of Australia, and the decision by fire authorities not to declare a state of emergency.)
One's heart goes out to all those media agencies out there: this imminent lack of disaster would have been particularly disastrous for them. However, it's heartening that in the unfolding non-emergency they rallied together to write this headline. As this terrible uncrisis continues over the days and weeks to come, it will remain a test of their skill and stamina to deal with the situation. With a little luck and ingenuity, not to mention a few deftly-worded headlines, however, it could be that they will turn the complete absence of catastrophe into merely a moderate absence of catastrophe, thereby transforming a tragically happy state of events into a happily tragic state of events.
Even though the media community is undoubtedly reeling from this horrifyingly moderate lack of emergency, I have every confidence that they will be able to get back to wonderfully bad stories and gloriously gloomy outlooks in no time at all.
No emergency declared on K_______ _____
(The story concerned bushfires in an area of Australia, and the decision by fire authorities not to declare a state of emergency.)
One's heart goes out to all those media agencies out there: this imminent lack of disaster would have been particularly disastrous for them. However, it's heartening that in the unfolding non-emergency they rallied together to write this headline. As this terrible uncrisis continues over the days and weeks to come, it will remain a test of their skill and stamina to deal with the situation. With a little luck and ingenuity, not to mention a few deftly-worded headlines, however, it could be that they will turn the complete absence of catastrophe into merely a moderate absence of catastrophe, thereby transforming a tragically happy state of events into a happily tragic state of events.
Even though the media community is undoubtedly reeling from this horrifyingly moderate lack of emergency, I have every confidence that they will be able to get back to wonderfully bad stories and gloriously gloomy outlooks in no time at all.
Bertie Wooster on human sacrifice
Bertie Wooster steps up to the podium and orates:
Hallo, old beans and sausages. My old pal Auberon 'Ruggles' Rafferty asked me to stand in his place here for the sake of old Balliol, and all that, while he settlesa few, ah, business transactions. He may be away for a while - and I don't mind saying, just between you and me, that he's in a spot of bother.
So now you've got me, Bertie Wooster. I'll be presenting the lecture today on - now let me see, where are those paper - AH! - no - no - here it is - "Hum-an Sacri... HUMAN SACRIFICE!" Gor blimey! Er, that is to say, in the words of the poet, YAWP! I never knew that Ruggles went into this sort of business!
Ahem. Anyway, as I was saying, human sacrifice is an old English tradition - so old that it goes back to at least the time of that blighter - what's his name? - yes, Nelson, that's right. If not before.
It's not an easy thing to do, as a chappie, go up to another chappie, shake their hands and look them in the eye, and say, "Look here, old bean. We're going to have to take you down to the sacrificial temple and take your life, for the sake of the Celtic Twilight or the Great Saxon Breed, or some such tommyrot." So why did our primitive Irish ancestors do it? Eh, don't ask me. I'm not an expert. Anyway, one imagines such laudable sentiments as Love of Country or Commitment to Progress would have had something to do with it. Also, that Irish poteen is something else, what? But the answer to the question is, fundamentally, lost in the histories of mystery. Er, that is to say, lost in the mysteries of hist. I mean, the hists of time... oh, dash it all!
And now, we come to one of my favourite parts of the lecture. Every time I give a lecture (and this is the first time) I look forward to this part: the practical! Now, do I have any volunteers from the audience to be a human sacrifice? How about you, young Blandish? No? Anyone else want to offer their blood upon this sacred podium as a meet sacrifice for the pagan Gods? So, see what I mean? Practically nobody wants to do it. Which I'd say is a pretty good demonstration of how much we've moved on since then.
You have to wonder how these chappies did it. Well, being ancients, they would have run one another through with lances or donged one another over the head with hauberks, or some such. Maces might have had something to do with it, or swords coming into contact with jugular veins. Maybe consult your local GP about it. There would have been a bit of blood and what-not, but the blighters that performed these sacrifical duties were hard, flint-eyed types who would later turn into the sorts of chaps that are bookies at the races, or those whey-faced semi-criminal types at the Internal Revenue Service. So the blood wouldn't have bothered them a bit.
Human sacrifice was inapplicably linked - eh? - inextricably linked, I should say, with the history of Celtic Britain. So once they had performed a sacrifice for the week and caught the blood in a golden cup or whatever, they'd go down to the Irish club and play a bagpipe and tell rousing tales about Cuchulain and read poems by Yeats until the cows came home. (Though some of them were already there.)
However, nowadays, human sacrifice is as rare as bagpipes at your local Vicarage Musical Evening, and a good deal less popular, though I prefer the cinema myself. And a jolly good thing, too. Except for, of course, the occasional throwbacks, such as my Aunt Agatha who eats broken glass and likes to sacrifice a servant each morn before tea.
And that is all about human sacrifice you bally-well ever need know.
NEXT WEEK: Bertie Wooster orates on the Tropic of Cancer, and the summer resort town of Ebola!
Hallo, old beans and sausages. My old pal Auberon 'Ruggles' Rafferty asked me to stand in his place here for the sake of old Balliol, and all that, while he settlesa few, ah, business transactions. He may be away for a while - and I don't mind saying, just between you and me, that he's in a spot of bother.
So now you've got me, Bertie Wooster. I'll be presenting the lecture today on - now let me see, where are those paper - AH! - no - no - here it is - "Hum-an Sacri... HUMAN SACRIFICE!" Gor blimey! Er, that is to say, in the words of the poet, YAWP! I never knew that Ruggles went into this sort of business!
Ahem. Anyway, as I was saying, human sacrifice is an old English tradition - so old that it goes back to at least the time of that blighter - what's his name? - yes, Nelson, that's right. If not before.
It's not an easy thing to do, as a chappie, go up to another chappie, shake their hands and look them in the eye, and say, "Look here, old bean. We're going to have to take you down to the sacrificial temple and take your life, for the sake of the Celtic Twilight or the Great Saxon Breed, or some such tommyrot." So why did our primitive Irish ancestors do it? Eh, don't ask me. I'm not an expert. Anyway, one imagines such laudable sentiments as Love of Country or Commitment to Progress would have had something to do with it. Also, that Irish poteen is something else, what? But the answer to the question is, fundamentally, lost in the histories of mystery. Er, that is to say, lost in the mysteries of hist. I mean, the hists of time... oh, dash it all!
And now, we come to one of my favourite parts of the lecture. Every time I give a lecture (and this is the first time) I look forward to this part: the practical! Now, do I have any volunteers from the audience to be a human sacrifice? How about you, young Blandish? No? Anyone else want to offer their blood upon this sacred podium as a meet sacrifice for the pagan Gods? So, see what I mean? Practically nobody wants to do it. Which I'd say is a pretty good demonstration of how much we've moved on since then.
You have to wonder how these chappies did it. Well, being ancients, they would have run one another through with lances or donged one another over the head with hauberks, or some such. Maces might have had something to do with it, or swords coming into contact with jugular veins. Maybe consult your local GP about it. There would have been a bit of blood and what-not, but the blighters that performed these sacrifical duties were hard, flint-eyed types who would later turn into the sorts of chaps that are bookies at the races, or those whey-faced semi-criminal types at the Internal Revenue Service. So the blood wouldn't have bothered them a bit.
Human sacrifice was inapplicably linked - eh? - inextricably linked, I should say, with the history of Celtic Britain. So once they had performed a sacrifice for the week and caught the blood in a golden cup or whatever, they'd go down to the Irish club and play a bagpipe and tell rousing tales about Cuchulain and read poems by Yeats until the cows came home. (Though some of them were already there.)
However, nowadays, human sacrifice is as rare as bagpipes at your local Vicarage Musical Evening, and a good deal less popular, though I prefer the cinema myself. And a jolly good thing, too. Except for, of course, the occasional throwbacks, such as my Aunt Agatha who eats broken glass and likes to sacrifice a servant each morn before tea.
And that is all about human sacrifice you bally-well ever need know.
NEXT WEEK: Bertie Wooster orates on the Tropic of Cancer, and the summer resort town of Ebola!
Saturday, December 08, 2007
A belated report on hearing Germaine Greer lecture on the previous week
How pleasant to know Ms Greer!
Who has written such volumes of stuff!
Some think her ill-tempered and queer,
But a few think her pleasant enough!
Her mind is concrete and fastidious,
Her output admired, and prolific,
Some critics have called her 'invidious';
But to fans she is 'Simply t'riffic!'
She has written on Female Eunuchs,
And fusty old 18th-century tomes,
And pro-crocodilian polemics,
And a number of Enlightenment poems.
She has lectured on the novels of Austen
To all her Australian peers;
And her fans as one all declare
'How pleasant to know Ms Greer!'
Who has written such volumes of stuff!
Some think her ill-tempered and queer,
But a few think her pleasant enough!
Her mind is concrete and fastidious,
Her output admired, and prolific,
Some critics have called her 'invidious';
But to fans she is 'Simply t'riffic!'
She has written on Female Eunuchs,
And fusty old 18th-century tomes,
And pro-crocodilian polemics,
And a number of Enlightenment poems.
She has lectured on the novels of Austen
To all her Australian peers;
And her fans as one all declare
'How pleasant to know Ms Greer!'
Employment pages
Non-Sequitary (PT)
The Coburg Non-Sequitarial Agency is currently accepting applications for the position of Non-Sequitary for a leading media company. You must be strongly qualified in typing, filing, computers, banking, accounts, taking meeting minutes, shorthand, and isn't that a nice tie being worn by Mr Jones today? I don't think Mr Jones has worn a tie like that before, do you think Mrs Jones bought it for him?
Call Sidney at the Non-Sequitarial Agency to discuss the job, other opportunities available in the world of non-sequitarial employment, training options, and isn't it nice weather we're having today?
Deceptionist (FT)
Front desk position. Duties including lying to the boss about the staff; lying to the staff about the boss; lying to clients about what the company sells; lying to the company about what clients are interested in; lying to the management about the staff, the boss, what the clients are interested in, and what the company sells; lying to the staff, boss, clients, and company about the profits the management aren't making; lying about the weather, lying about the news, lying about elephants, and lying about lying.
Our motto is that dishonesty and hypocrisy are the foundation of all modern business, and we must all stand by this!
Call Ms Maud Jenkins at Deceptions International now! 1800 ORISIT?
Quantum Mechanical Engineer (FT)
To become the head of the Postmodern Construction Agency, specialising in buildings that suddenly appear out of nowhere, offices that vanish just as suddenly (perfect for businesses who suddenly find that the tax office is just a little too interested in them), trains that get to the destination instantly (so long as you don't worry about how fast they're going), and train stations that don't exist (perfect for the budget-conscious Department of Transport, though a little troublesome for the passengers).
Very Personal Assistant (PT)
To assist the manager in the regular, day to day process of filing, meetings, meeting minutes, corporate lunches, management of corporate affairs, management of extra-marital affairs, management of clothes, underwear, baths, medical appointments, family disappointments, and bedroom. Looking for the right job applicant, with a view of upgrading the position to...
Too Personal Assistant (FT)
Duties include assisting manager with divorce proceedings, calling incessantly several times a day, leaving spiteful messages on his phone, possessing intimate photographs of the manager, assisting manager in protracted and spiteful court case, typing, and photocopying.
God (PT)
Your duties will include existing in an omniscient manner, smiting, blighting, and supervising the company collection of Plagues and Locusts.
The Coburg Non-Sequitarial Agency is currently accepting applications for the position of Non-Sequitary for a leading media company. You must be strongly qualified in typing, filing, computers, banking, accounts, taking meeting minutes, shorthand, and isn't that a nice tie being worn by Mr Jones today? I don't think Mr Jones has worn a tie like that before, do you think Mrs Jones bought it for him?
Call Sidney at the Non-Sequitarial Agency to discuss the job, other opportunities available in the world of non-sequitarial employment, training options, and isn't it nice weather we're having today?
Deceptionist (FT)
Front desk position. Duties including lying to the boss about the staff; lying to the staff about the boss; lying to clients about what the company sells; lying to the company about what clients are interested in; lying to the management about the staff, the boss, what the clients are interested in, and what the company sells; lying to the staff, boss, clients, and company about the profits the management aren't making; lying about the weather, lying about the news, lying about elephants, and lying about lying.
Our motto is that dishonesty and hypocrisy are the foundation of all modern business, and we must all stand by this!
Call Ms Maud Jenkins at Deceptions International now! 1800 ORISIT?
Quantum Mechanical Engineer (FT)
To become the head of the Postmodern Construction Agency, specialising in buildings that suddenly appear out of nowhere, offices that vanish just as suddenly (perfect for businesses who suddenly find that the tax office is just a little too interested in them), trains that get to the destination instantly (so long as you don't worry about how fast they're going), and train stations that don't exist (perfect for the budget-conscious Department of Transport, though a little troublesome for the passengers).
Very Personal Assistant (PT)
To assist the manager in the regular, day to day process of filing, meetings, meeting minutes, corporate lunches, management of corporate affairs, management of extra-marital affairs, management of clothes, underwear, baths, medical appointments, family disappointments, and bedroom. Looking for the right job applicant, with a view of upgrading the position to...
Too Personal Assistant (FT)
Duties include assisting manager with divorce proceedings, calling incessantly several times a day, leaving spiteful messages on his phone, possessing intimate photographs of the manager, assisting manager in protracted and spiteful court case, typing, and photocopying.
God (PT)
Your duties will include existing in an omniscient manner, smiting, blighting, and supervising the company collection of Plagues and Locusts.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Not a winner of the ARIAs
Christmas is i-cumen in!
Lude sing 'O No!'
Big fat men in big fat suits
Wheeze and whine 'Ho ho!'
Sing 'O No!'
(Lude sing 'O No')
Sing 'O No!'
(Lude sing 'O No')
- Medieval Australian Carol
Lude sing 'O No!'
Big fat men in big fat suits
Wheeze and whine 'Ho ho!'
Sing 'O No!'
(Lude sing 'O No')
Sing 'O No!'
(Lude sing 'O No')
- Medieval Australian Carol
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Email: timhtrain - at - yahoo.com.au
