Remake of the Year

Just been to see The Producers. You haven't seen The Producers? See it. Here are some of the reasons why:

"I smell the stench of someone developing a sense of self esteem!"

"I'm not sure that that's necess ..."
"Yes, it is necess! Absolutely necess!"

"There's more to you than there is to you!"
"Mr Bialystock! You've made a terrible mistake! I have no spine!"

"Or you will meet your dess!"
"Dess? I don't know what dess is. Is it anything like death?"
"YETHHHH!"

"I haffn't been so happy since zey conquered Poland!"

"We made the wrong musical, with the wrong actors, and the wrong director. Where did everything go so right?"

It's hilarious. And if that doesn't convince you, go read this bad review of same film:

I know no-one should ever really expect anything particularly classy from the mind of Mel Brooks; his is a style reserved for bad taste comedy, Saturday afternoon schlock and incredibly un-PC spoofs. But this version of The Producers takes on a new level. Its crassness comes from a different time, and sorely deserved an upgrade. It does have its moments, and Nathan Lane is absolutely brilliant as the pathetic Bialystock, but overall this was a badly made movie of a poorly adapted musical of an OK movie.

Now, with that, er, recommendation, how could you not go?

The Age Letters Page

The Age Letters page? It's the twitty trying to be witty.

UPDATE! - Oh, stop complaining. Somebody had to say it.

The International Day of Not Very Much

Today is the International day of Not Very Much! You celebrate it by leaning, loitering, lying, lazing, lolling about, lollygagging, and by putting off for the day after what you had been meaning to do tomorrow.

I'll be back in a little while to give more details about it, if I could be bothered.

UPDATE! - The International Day of Not Very Much started twenty years ago (or some such period of time), when Mr Blewis got out of bed and decided that they'd rather go back to bed instead.
He spent the next ten hours of the day (which he should have been using to paint the house, clean his garage, mow the lawn, walk the dog, call his mother, or rearrange his bookshelf) by avoiding any exercise whatsoever. This was a bit difficult at first, as it took a bit of effort; the trick, he found, was not to think about it too much.

Some things you might like to do on the International Day of Not Very Much:

- Watch television in a relaxed fashion!

- Idly leaf through a book of short stories without really bothering to read it! (That's just a little too much exercise for your eyes)

- Scrutinise a rose on a rose-bush to see if you can catch it growing!

- Contemplate the various types of apathy that it is possible for a person to experience, and count how many of them you have experienced!

- Have a long and leisurely bath (but only if it's not too much trouble running it*)

- Do Nothing in Particular for lengthy periods of time, and then continue to do it!

Over time, thanks to the determined apathy of its thousands of international celebrants, the 'International Day of Not Very Much' can extend into an 'International Week of Not Very Much'.** For God's sake, don't worry about it. Once you start worrying, you might end up doing things again. And nobody wants that.

*I suggest getting a slave to run it for you.

** Sometimes, it can even turn into an 'International Year of Not Very Much' - an ideal arrangement, since by the time the year ends, the next 'International Day of Not Very Much' comes around, and can be turned into an 'International Year of Not Very Much', through very little effort.

Mispelling Is Vulgar

People, help me out here. I've got a problem. How do you spell 'cocksucker'? Is it with a hyphen? Without? Is it one word, or two words?

I wouldn't want to mispell it. That would be just rude.

UPDATE! - And while we're working on this problem, let's try a couple of other ones as well.

1) 'Arsehole' or 'Asshole'? It depends what website you log on to. Being an Australian, I favour the Macquarie Dictionary spelling ('Arsehole').

Dictionary.com (an American website) also has one entry under 'Arsehole':

arsehole

n : excretory opening at the end of the alimentary canal [syn: anus, arse, asshole]

What do you think, readers? Both spellings have certain advantages.

2) Is there such a thing as a 'fucktard'? The word is not listed in Macquarie Dictionary, not even if it is hyphenated. Ditto Dictionary.com (which asks 'Did you mean "fucated"?)

If the word 'fucktard' is not listed in any dictionary, then do fucktards exist? Or are they just the figment of our collective imaginations?

3) Are there any synonyms for the term 'bitchface'? Macquarie, Dictionary, and Thesaurus give no help whatsoever. It's almost as if ... they're censoring the English language!

UPDATE ON THE UPDATE! - A conversation I had a while ago about the dichotomy between "Ass" and "Arse":

bbridges,

how do you distinguish between an ass (donkey) and an arse (backside)?
Pedantically yours, TimT

***

TimT,

I read somewhere that the difference between "arse" and "ass" is the difference between Rugby and American Football.

But I find "ass" to be a bit more vulgar and thus more american. "Arse" to American ears sounds a little formal. It seems the impact would be lost if I shouted "Kiss my Arse!" to somebody over here. And if you threatened to kick somebody's arse, you'd probably be laughed out of the bar.

***

I think that's a good point. In general, 'ass' probably suits the American accent better; Australians prefer to extend their vowels. But I also like the 'formality', so-called, of the Australian 'arse': the 'r' rounds the word off; metaphorically shaping the word in the same way as an arse gives shape to the body.

A final point: going back a few hundred years, we find the spelling 'Ers' by Chaucer:

But with his mouth, he kiste hir naked ers
Full savorly

And also:

And out his ers he putteth pryvely
Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon;

Hmmm. 'Arse', 'Ass', or 'Ers'. Your thoughts?

Noncooperatives

If you're thinking of joining up with a co-operative, then don't. I was a member of a co-operative in Newcastle. We were supposed to co-operating to get a zine out every couple of months, but the one thing with co-operatives is, they can't co-operate. Instead, they concern themselves with writing minutes (which turn out to be hours), making petty arguments (which usually turn out to be about things they agree over), and grumbling about money that they don't get from politicians who probably shouldn't be having it in the first place.

As a matter of fact, the main thing about co-operatives is, they're uncooperative.

And the same goes for just about every other group: 'Organisations' are disorganised, 'Committees' are very rarely committed, and people in 'communes' can't communicate. In the world of politics, 'socialism' is, by and large, unsociable; 'communism' is invariably uncommunal, and 'Tolerant Liberalism' is usually extremely conservative.

So, if you belong to any group of any sort in this modern world, then you can pretty much take for granted that nothing is what it means. In older, simpler days, this would have meant that the world is full of liars; but hey, this is the modern world, get with the program, man!

In fact, the consistency with which this rule applies is such that it even extends to terms used within large groups of people. 'Managers' manage nothing; 'Administrators' administrate even less, and 'board meetings' may be full of bored people, but there is not a board in sight. If someone says to you they want to 'get to the bottom of things', then they don't; if someone else says they want to 'clarify matters', then they won't; and if someone else says they want to 'validate the productivity and efficiency gains made in the last quarter', then nobody knows what the fuck they mean, least of all themselves.

***

One of my favourite quotes in Pulp Fiction comes (I think) from Samuel Jackson, when he holds up a roadside diner, with the words, 'Everybody, keep calm, cooperate, and this will all be over in a minute.'
I just wonder what it would be like if Samuel Jackson tried to do this at a modern board meeting. Firstly, nobody would cooperate, and the 'minute' would probably turn into five-and-three-quarter hours (not including lunch breaks). As a matter of fact, before said people in the board meeting did anything, Samuel Jackson would probably just give up, and shoot their dumb brains out.

It's food for thought, kids. Food for thought.

Facts About Australian Flora and Fauna

Thinking of visiting Australia? Good for you! Australia is the greatest country in the world, except for most of the others, and features many fascinating sites of interest, like the Sydney Opera House and the steps leading up to the Sydney Opera House!

However, a visit to Australia is not without it's downside; you will always have to be on the lookout for our wildlife. We possess a great many venomous, poisonous, carnivorous, and otherwise ominous species, such as the Goth, the Bogan, the Yobbo, the Redneck, and the Feral. And then there's the animals ...

So, if you come to Australia, you'll have to prepare yourself. Familiarise yourself with the police stations in the area you are visiting, and arm yourself with the local weaponry, such as you may find at any store ...

KOALA BEARS

Nearly every Australian carries a pet Koala Bear with them these days. This is because, ever since colonial days, we have had a regulation in place in the Australian constitution, ensuring that we have 'a right to Bear arms.' Koala Bears, as everyone knows, make an excellent weapon ina pinch, attacking the opposition's eyes and head. In this way, crime rates in Australia have been kept to a minimum. However, Australians always have to remember to feed their bears the occasional Eucalyptus leaf, or the bears will turn on them, too.

If you are visiting Australia, or planning on it, then I recommend you do it with a Koala Bear.*

*This may be purchased at any reputable Koala Bear vendor. Eucalypt leafs sold separately.

KANGAROOS

When large gatherings are present, police are sometimes forced to resort to the Boxing Kangaroo. As you know, the kangaroo, as a beast, has been highly trained in the art of pugilism by officials in ASIO, and can keep large crowds subdued with ease.
Nowadays, police have also resorted to the Wrestling Rock Wallaby, and the Ninjitsu Numbat (a creature which has been schooled in the secret and deadly art of Ninjitsu, and which wields the nunchuckas with fearsome accuracy!)

BOX JELLYFISH

More and more Australians (particularly children) have taken to keeping Box Jellyfish as pets. This is because they make an excellent defensive weapon in any fight. A jellyfish can be taken anywhere (if you have a tank and keep it on a leash); and, on a command from the owner*, can leap on the assailant and sting them with its poisoned tentacles.

Jellyfish are indeed a versatile defensive tool: they can be balanced over doors and drop onto the heads of unwary burglars. In addition, if your child is being bullied at school, you may consider getting them a jellyfish for a pet. As a rule, they make excellent domestic pets, are gentle and playful with children, and greatly enjoy being fed treats such as jellybabies** and lozenges.

*Eg, Fluffy, ATTACK!!!
** Keep them out of the reach of real babies, otherwise they'll get confused.

DROP BEARS

Once thought to be a myth, Drop Bears are, in fact, one of the more magnificent examples of Australian Fauna. About the size of a grizzly bear, Drop Bears are a marsupial that nest in trees or unoccupied buildings, and drop on wallabies for food. They are nocturnal, and are said to be related to the bat.
In the past few years, Australian Government's have been examining ways to use the Drop Bears for the Greater Good, and have been trialling Drop Bear programs in the major cities, so far, to major success. Whenever a Drop Bear spys a felon engaging in felonious activities, it is trained to silently and stealthily fall upon the unsuspecting person, and carry them away to the nearest police station. In only one or two cases, the Drop Bear has given into hunger and eaten the criminal ...

SNAKES

Snakes make an excellent weapon, as they can be hidden away in pockets and taken out when attacked and swung in the enemies face. Some of the more popular snakes are the Red Bellied Back Snake, and the Sea Snake. Their venom is said to be so strong that they can stop a criminal in their tracks.

When taking snakes from your pocket, be sure to be wearing firm gloves. If you have no gloves, just ask your boyfriend or girlfriend to take them out for you.

BUNYIPS

The famous Bunyip roams through the country at night, alert for any signs of incipient criminality in the nation's youth. Whenever a little boy or girl say a swear word, or refuse to eat their vegetables, or inadvertently yawn when speaking to very boring and very rude adults, then they are taken away to the Bunyip's lair. Here they are reformed, and made to perform socially useful deeds, such as planting trees, writing dictionaries, or learning to play rare and neglected musical instruments, such as the Krumhorn.

RED ANTS

Patrolling the remote areas of Australia, the 'Red Ant' Brigade has rescued many lost children or travellers. After years of scientic testing, Australian biologists have taught the ants to perform many activities, including:

- Bringing lost people food and water;

- Rescuing puppies from burning cars;

- Carrying babies back to civilisation;

- And forming rudimentary messages* that can be seen by air rescue squads.

Yes, Australia's outback would be a much more dangerous place if it weren't for the intrepid deeds of derring-do by our very own 'Red Ant' Brigade!

*These messages may include small details such as directions, and information about medical and dietary needs, number of people found, etc, etc.

NEXT WEEK - AUSTRALIA'S DEADLIEST FLORA, INCLUDING PATERSON'S CURSE, THE SINGING NETTLE, THE HYACINTH (THAT ATE HYACINTH), AND THE BRISVEGAS MAN-TRAP (otherwise known as Darlenus Taylorus)!*

*Disclaimer: she's not really a man trap, guys.

Now You Know Your ABC

This account of the ABC of old is rather charming:

Incredible though it may seem, the ABC used to be unbiased. In the 1950s and 1960s Channel 2 did not have bellowing advertisements for itself between programs. Instead it had a few well-spoken women, such as Corinne Kirby and Ruth Nye, who would sit in an arm chair, with a vase of flowers nearby, and simply chat to the viewers. Other ways of filling up the five or ten minutes between shows were with songs by a pair of Scandinavian folk singers called Nina and Frederick, who were a bit like Peter, Paul and Mary - if you took out Paul. Other fillers were short, relaxing films of cats trying to open a door, or peaceful scenes of farm life.

In those days ABC television really didn't have advertisements - unlike the ABC television of today.

That's from Diogene's Lamp. I'm not sure who the fellow is that writes it, but he describes himself as having 'a mordant eye', and has a penchant for one-liners by people like Menzies and Mencken - not to mention Breton Creperies. Please consider.

Headlines for the SMS Generation

Ignore that previous post. I'm not actually that hard up that I want to go cutting random letters and items of grammar out of my vocabulary just for the hell of it. Instead, I'm going to go cutting random letters out of this next post for a very good reason. And that reason is to teach all you kids of the SMS generation about history. Isn't that nice of me?

The following SMS headlines cover all of the important historical developments of the past hundred years, and some of the less important ones as well. I think you'll agree, they have it pretty well covered ...

The Sinking Of The Titsanic:
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! DA TITANIC SINX IN2 DA C!

The Hindenberg Disaster:
AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HINDENBERG CRASHZ, BURNZ - BBQ!!!

The Communist Revolution
MRX RITES MANIFESTO '4 U + ME' - ROTFL!!!!

The Second World War:
OMG!!! HTLR 8AX BRTN!!! 1000s R KLLD!!!

STALIN + HTLR = FUNFUNFUN ;-p LOLerz!!!

The Cold War:
USA PREZ SEZ: KOMMIEZ MAKE ME :-(

The Sacking of the Whitlam Government:
GOV GEN SAX WITLAM - LMFAO!!!

The British Royal Wedding:
CHARLZ 2 DI: 'I <3 U, B WIT ME 4VA!!'

Reagan Meets Thatcher:
RAYGUN 2 THATCHA: "I'LL NEVA 4GET U!"

The Monica Lewinski Scandal:
LOINSKI 2 CLINTON: LEEV UR H@ ON!

The Death of Princess Diana:
WTF: PRINCESS DI DIZ! :-(

Coming soon: the entire Bhagvat Gita, as retold by an ignorant yokel redneck from Oodnadatta!

Due to Budgetary Constraints, This Headline Has Bee

I'm down to twenty dollars for the rest of this week, so I've decided I'm going to make some budgetary constraints on this blog.

First up, I'm banning the use of the plural. The plural needlessly multiplies the value of the thing being referred to, and we can't have that. Plus, it usually insists on adding a letter 's' to the end of every word. That's just wasteful.

Come to think of it, I'm banning the letter 's' as well. I'm _orry guy_, but you're ju_t going to have to do without it.

Needle__ item_ of grammar, _uch a_ the colon, the _emicolon, and the parenthe_i_, will al_o be banned. If you're going to u_e the_e thing_, then I _uggest you do it el_where.

Finally I've decided that everything I written here fro now on will be in pa_t ten_e. It wa_ ju_t pointle__ to be u_ing different ten_e_ for different po_t_. Well, therell be none of that from now on.

Thank you to all of my reader_, and I hope that you _tick with thi_ blog in the future pa_t and continue to have made comment_.

Ways To Amuse Yourself #5

Buy yourself the following things: one cane, one hundred typewriters, a backyard shed, a copy of Shakespeare's plays, a barrel of LSD, and a cage full of monkeys. Set the typewriters up in a shed, feed the LSD to the monkeys and then turn them loose in the shed.

Stroll amongst the monkeys with your cane and your copy of Shakespeare. Yell at them angrily if they don't produce results similar to or superior to Shakespeare's plays. Rap them occasionally with your cane.

Hopefully, in their fevered hallucinations, the monkeys will think you are the Great Baboon of the Jungles, or something. Anyway, the results should be interesting. Go on, you see if I'm wrong.

The Parable of the Three Men In The Boat

Once there were three men: a Paranoid, a Journalist, and a Cynic. They were firm friends and one day they decided to go on a fishing trip together. So, they hired a boat and took it to the nearest harbour and sailed away.
As they drew away from the shore, the Paranoid became increasingly nervous, and began to fidget and twitch. This caused the Journalist to ask him what was wrong; but he replied, nothing, and all three men continued to fish. But as they continued to sail ahead, the Paranoid became more and more nervous, until finally, the Cynic could not stand it any more, and asked his friend what was wrong.
"Oh, I am so worried!" wailed the Paranoid then.
"Why are you worried?" asked the Journalist.
"I am worried that we will sail off the Edge of the World!" he cried.
"Pish!" scoffed the Cynic. "That is a mere story!"
"What's wrong with mere stories?" huffed the Journalist with his hands on his hips.
"They are invented by men like you to scare men like him so that men like him will buy papers written by men like you!" sneered the Cynic, pointing first at the Journalist, then at the Cynic, then at the Journalist again so that he tied his arms up in a very pretty knot indeed.
"We report on stories of interest and importance. Ours is a noble profession!" said the Journalist, lifting his head high.
And with that, the three men continued to fish.

Next day, the Paranoid man had taken to leaping out of his seat at sudden moments, and looking wildly around.
"What on earth is the matter with you now?" asked the Cynic. But the Paranoid did not reply.
A little later, the Journalist sat down with the Paranoid, and spoke very gently to him, and said to him, "Tell me, my friend, what is on your mind. It's no use saying that you are carefree, and have no worries in the world, for we can see that, laugh as you will, there is something great troubling you."
At this, the Paranoid burst into tears, and nodded his head; and it was not until he bought a handkerchief out of his pocket, and dabbed at his eyes, that he was able to continue.
"It's just, I am dreadfully afraid that, as the day draws on, we draw ever nearer to the Edge of the World. And then, we will fall off! And what will happen to us after?"
"Not that story again!" snapped the Cynic.
"But my friend," continued the Journalist, patiently; "There is a mounting body of evidence to suggest that what he says could be true."
"Posh!" scoffed the Cynic. "They are stories invented by men like you too ..."
"No!" said the Journalist then, waving his hand in the air and cutting his friend off mid-sentence. "They are scientific facts, gathered together by a body of respected experts who have made it their life-work to study the World and what we should do about it!"
"He's right," sniffed the Paranoid, wiping at his nose. "And even if it isn't true, we should at least do something about it!"
"Ha!" laughed the Cynic then. "You believe that we should Do Something Now to Prevent Something that Might Not Happen!"
"A good point, my friend," said the Journalist. "Thank you for making a valued contribution to this debate."
And with that, the three men continued to fish.

By the next day, relations on the boat had become rather strained. The Paranoid, when he was not fishing, huddled in a corner of the boat, whimpering and shuddering, with his arms wrapped around his legs. The Cynic, with his face turned away from the other two, sat at the other hand, nonchalantly continuing to fish. And the Journalist walked from one to the other, taking notes for an article that he intended to write on the subject when he got back to the shore (if, indeed, he ever did).
Finally, the three men agreed amongst themselves that this situation was ridiculous; and they decided to hold a debate on the subject at noon, chaired by the Journalist.
"Thank you for coming" said the Journalist. "I appreciate the time and effort you have both put in."
The two men said nothing to this, so the Journalist pressed on.
"I think it's high time we had this discussion, for I think you'll agree, with many scientists who study this subject pressing the Government for a decision to be made on The Edge of the World, we had better settle this matter one way or the other."
Neither of the men replied to this either. The Journalist bravely continued:
"Firstly, I'd like to ask you," he said to the Paranoid, "What is your argument in regards to this matter?"
"My argument is," wailed the Paranoid, "That the Edge of the World exists, and we are going to sail over it now unless we don't!"
"And what is your position?" said the Journalist, turning to the Cynic.
"My position," replied the Cynic, calmly, "Is that the Edge of the World doesn't exist, and that, even if it does, there's nothing wrong with it and we should leave it where it is and continue to do what we are doing now."
"But we might DIE!" howled the Paranoid.
"But why," continued the Cynic, "Should we Do Something Now to Prevent Something that Might Not Happen?"
"Because," replied the Paranoid, "Anything at ALL might not happen, and we certainly have to prevent it from happening or, er, who knows what will happen!"
"Thank you for having this debate," said the Journalist then. "I think you'll both agree that we've had some fruitful discussion, and now it's time to have an audience poll on the matter."

Since there were only three men on the boat, and the Journalist could not very well vote on his own (that would be unfair), they all decided to have a vote. They took two pots out from their stores, and painted them different colours (one for either side of the debate). Then they cast a fish into the pot of the colour which represented their side of the debate. It fell upon the Journalist to count them out and, even though the Cynic suspected that he might be cheating, he let his friend do this. And, as it turned out, the votes came out in favour of the Paranoid.

"Right then," said the Journalist. "I think we're all agreed that We Should Do Something Abo..."
Just then, a terrible wail came from the Paranoid. Both men raised their eyes and saw that the Paranoid man was indicating something with his outstretched arm in the far distance. They followed his finger, and saw then what was causing the Paranoid man so much grief: the Edge of the World. Waters fell from the Edge of the World into empty space: and they were being inexorably drawn by strong currents towards this void!

The three men then rushed up and down the deck of the boat, adjusting this sail, and tying that sail, and casting the anchor, then pulling it up again, and falling over one another and leaping up again in a great flurry of activity: all to no avail. Nothing could stop them being drawn closer and closer to their doom. Then, seeing that it was all in vain, they fell to their knees, and prayed to God, beseeching him in tearful voices to hear them, and save them from Falling Off the Edge of the World. And they drew ever nearer to the chasm. Then, as their prayers had become loudest, and the rushing of the waters of the world off the edge of the world became quite deafening, a piano fell out of the sky and splintered their boat to a million pieces, and caused the men to fall to the bottom of the sea.

And nobody ever heard of them again.

THE END

On the Male Neck Tie

(I've already published this post elsewhere but I'm putting it up here too because I can so there.)

In 1994, a week before I went away to boarding school in Sydney for year 11, Mum taught me how to put on a Neck Tie. I've been putting them on, irregularly, ever since.

Ties are pleasant to look at. They are colourful, they come in a peculiar shape, and are covered with a great variety of designs. In windy weather, they will sometimes hover in the air in front of you as you are walking before slapping you in the face. (This is uncomfortable for you, but at least it provides some amusement for onlookers.) They are, without a doubt, the strangest item in the male business suit. What do they do? You can use your pockets to put pens in, you put your coat on when it's cold, and a sturdy pair of business shoes will protect your feet from both the cold and rubbish on the ground. But ties? As clothes go, they're redundant. Their only purpose seems to be to identify the wearer as male; in that sense, they are vaguely phallic.

It's always seemed to me that there's something slightly uncivilised about men who do not know how to put on a tie. Several other boarders, for instance, would never put their tie on; they would simply loosen their tie after school and slip it off, and put it back on their necks the day afterwards. And then there are those people who buy their ties, tied, from the tie store.

What's the point? Most of the fun of a tie is in tying it up, not in wearing it. You might as well not call them 'ties' at all.

Even worse are people who will wear 'novelty ties'; ties covered with cheap Donald Duck or Bugs Bunny cartoons; or ties with crude football slogans written upon them. If what you wear says something about you, then surely, a person who regularly wears Donald Duck ties is askin to a person who wanders about the streets with the words, 'I am a loony' stamped upon his forehead.

There is little hope for the tie. It is a dying creature. People of the present day are relentlessly informal - they never use a polite word when a swear word will do: and no-one would wear a tie if they didn't have to. Especially not during the Australian summer. They constrict the breath, make it more difficult to swallow, make you itch, and make you sweat. In fact, you have to resist the urge to wipe the sweat from your brow with the tie. It's the little things like that that keep civilisation going, you know.

Eight Words Other Than 'Failure' That Rhyme With Australia

When I went to University, I had as lecturer a guy called David B. He was a published poet and novelist, and specialised in Australian literature. He also had glasses, a beard, a breathy way of speaking, and a girl told me later that she thought he was a bit of a sleaze. Anyway, I always remember one of the lecturers he gave about one of the earliest Australian poems:

O Kangaroo, O Kangaroo,
Thou spirit of Australia;
That redeems from utter failure,
From perfect desolation,
And warrants the creation
Of this fifth part of earth ...

(From The Kangaroo, by Barron Field)

His take on the poem was this: "The fact that Barron Field can't find any word but 'failure' to rhyme with Australia represents in itself a kind of failure; a failure of traditional poetic forms ..."

There always seemed to me to be something wrong with this. Firstly, what's wrong with traditional poetic forms? If they're good enough for The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner - a poem that's almost cosmic in its extent - then why can't they be good enough for Australia?
Secondly, I felt sure that there were plenty of words that rhymed with Australia. Like .... and, um, like ... actually, it was pretty hard to think of them. But it always stuck in my mind that there should be words that rhyme with Australia.
And years later, I actually did sit down, and try to find words other than 'failure' that rhymed with 'Australia'. As I suspected, there were several:

Animalia
Regalia
Italia
Shalier
Somalia
Tailier
Nailier

See? Certainly, some of these words (like Somalia) may not have existed when Barron Field wrote the poem. But that hardly matters: there would have been other words in use then that are not in use now. And the fact that some of these words are, shall we say, 'grammatically creative' hardly matters either; the whole point of a poem is that it's creative.

Rachel gives us another word to add to that list:

Sesquipadalia (Long words)
Sesquipadalian (Given to or characterised by the use of long words)

So, with that in mind, we should be able to offer a different version of Barron Field's poem:

Kangaroo, o Kangaroo,
Thou spirit of Australia
Thou complete and wondrous specimen
Of antipodean Animalia!
Of all the taily creatures
I've never seen a tailier!
Oh yes, you are most worthy
Of all our sesquipadalia:
Yes, Kangaroo, o Kangaroo,
Thou spirit of Australia!

Much better, isn't it?

UPDATE! - Add 'Norman Mailer' and 'Marsupial Mammalia' to the list, please, Mr. Blog Man! Also, I edited out the full name of the Uni lecturer.

Poetic Imagery My Arse

You know, I don't normally make political or partisan comments on this blog; I figure other people can do it better than me, and I'd rather just entertain people.

But I think I will make one now, because this concerns another self-styled humourist and cartoonist who has gone out of his way to make political statements, some of which are quite vile. I'm talking about Michael Leunig.

There has been a minor blog-debate about the merits (if any) of Leunig's cartoons since Tim Blair linked to one of those cartoons on the 10th of this month.

Here is the said Leunig cartoon. It depicts Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon - currently on the verge of death - as the killer of innocent old men in wheelchairs. For more analysis of its context, see this Tim Blair post, or this post on Legless In Perpetuum.

It's not the first time Leunig has done this sort of thing, either:

- In this cartoon, Leunig depicts a member of the US armed forces as a cannibal - drawing on an earlier cartoon depiction of Ariel Sharon in the same light.

- In this cartoon, Leunig compares the modern state of Israel with a Nazi concentration camp.

Leunig has since defended his cartoon, saying: "I, perhaps foolishly, made a cartoon about that strange situation that is a person's dying days - not to have a swipe at Sharon or Israel but to open up some more existential and, dare I say it, "Shakespearean" thoughts about the pathos and wry darkness of this powerful man's demise".
Yes, it was foolish. What is even more foolish - not to mention bizarre - is that Leunig then goes on to defend the cartoon as if it didn't matter. He appears to want it both ways - to admit to his human fallibility, but to be able to defend himself against all criticism because he's 'an artist'. This is a pathetic self-defence mechanism.

In an ABC interview, Leunig has this to say: "I'm trying to think, "How can I distil this into some little poetic moment that awakens people to other possibilities?""
Also: " And I'm there to challenge that notion of life. That I'm interested in the deeper humanity in us all."
It's worth taking a moment to note how, at crucial points, Leunig explains himself by using meaningless phrases like 'poetic moment' and 'deeper humanity'. Actually, both are insulting - the first to poets and writers, the second to all humans - because they replace precise concepts (poetic, humanity) with vague and fuzzy ideas (deeper humanity, poetic moments).
But there's an even more important point to make. And that is that this is the context in which Leunig defends his 'art': this is the context in which he wants his pictures comparing Auschwitz to Israel to be understood. Historical facts about Israel and the treatment of Jews by the Nazis apparently matter less than having a 'poetic moment' with Leunig's 'deeper humanity'.

Leunig used to be an exceptional cartoonist: original, and funny. Nowadays, all he appears to be producing is hate-filled propaganda. It's disgraceful, and The Age should fire him.

SEE ALSO:
Legless In Perpetuum
Tim Blair

PS Sorry about the political post thingy, I'll be back in a day or so with more interesting stuff.

Moment Musicale

"So how do you want me to start?"

"A duo, please. Molto largo."

"But won't the neighbours hear?"

"Let them. I'll take the basso, you take the treble clef."

"We always did it the other way around ..."

"Don't worry. You'll treble soon enough, and then I'll get the chance to mount that clef for myself."

"Like this?"

"Yes, yes ... but take it steadily. Lentissimo!"

"And pianissimo?"

"My dear, pui pianissimo - that's the way!"

"Ah."

"Yes. That's right! Oh, deary - you truly are the maestro!"

"Dolce?"

"Con Dolce, Con Molto Dolce!"

"Such a timbre!"

"And now, molto piano. That's right!"

"Con moto! Ah, such a movement!"

"Yes - now, Andante, con mobile - good, good - OOH!"

"Yes?"

"Don't stop now, maestro!"

"Now, the moderato passage."

"PUI APPASSIONAZZA!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't take it at such a slow pace! I want a spring in your music! Staccato!"

"Almost - allegretto?"

"Si - I mean, yes! Molto allegretto, molto forte - that's good!"

"Ah, but I can do better."

"Ooh! Hee hee hee! Yes, very good - the student becomes the maestro!"

"Forzando!"

"SFORZANDO! With FEELING!"

"Allegro!"

"Ma non troppo, maestro, please."

"With accents ..."

"Si! Accents, and leggerio!"

"I like your leggerio!"

"Now - allegro moderato!"

"Oh - allegro VIVACE, please!"

"Ah - please - a little ritenueto!"

"Like that?"

"Oooh my, yes - you ARE doing well!"

"Such a bel canto!"

"Sforzando again, maestro!"

"Sforzando, molto a molto!"

"Fortissimo!"

"FORTE fortissimo!"

"Accelerando!"

"Now PRESTO!"

"PRESTO PRESTISSIMO!"

"PRESTO PRESTISSIMO FURIOSO!"

"SI!"

"SI!"

"BELLA!"

"DONNA!"

"SI!"

"SI!"

"SI!"

"SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!"


***


"Well ... "

"Well ..."

"How was it for you?"

"Oh, maestro ...!"

"Then, why not ..."

"Ah, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Da capo?"

"That would be fine ..."

"But ...?"

"But this time ... I think it's time for us to try ... the trio ..."

FINE

CODA
Piano lessons, anyone?
(Via L.I.P.)

Blue Psued Pshoes

Has anybody been watching 'Speaking in Tongues, with John Safran and Father Bob'? It's very good. They've got a segment called 'Bob's Billboard', where readers send in suggestions for titles to put up on the Billboard outside Bob's church. Here are some of my suggestions:

HEAVEN A GREAT TIME, WISH YOU WERE HERE!

SUNDAY IS FUNDAY - COME INSIDE AND PRAY!

OPEN WIDE, COME INSIDE - IT'S PRAY SCHOOL!

APPLAUD THE LORD!

PSINGING PSALMS IS PSUPER!

I'm rather proud of that last one. So proud, in fact, that I wrote a whole poem about it! It's called

PSINGING PSALMS (A PSEUDO PSONG):

Psinging psalms is psuper fun,
Psuper fun for everyone!
Come and psing and come to pstay
With Christ, who took our psins away!

UPDATE! - Just emailed them through.

Tim's Of The Blog World

Here is a list of some Tim's of the blog world. I'll be adding to it as more turn up.

Tim Blair
Blog: http://timblair.net
Politically: Right wing
Nicknames: tim, Tim B, little tim, Right Wing Death Beast, slime

Tim Dunlop
Blog: http://roadtosurfdom.com
Politically: Left wing
Nicknames: Tim

Tim Lambert
Blog: http://timlambert.org
Politically: Left wing
Nicknames: Tim, Lambert, Timmy.

Tim W.
Blog: http://kiss-chasey.blogspot.com
Politically: Leftish
Nicknames: Tim

Tim Sterne
Blog: http://sternezine.blogspot.com
Politically: Leftish
Nicknames: Tim

Tim Train
Blog: http://willtypeforfood.blogspot.com
Politically: DEAD CENTRE. No, really!
Nicknames: Idiot, Timmy*, Who the fuck is that guy?

See also: Tim G, commentor on Road to Surfdom
Uncreative Tim, commentor on After Grog Blog
Tim S, commentor on Anonymous Lefty

Look on the bright side: when we're all called Tim, it will be that much easier to remember one another's name.

*Pronounced South Park style.

Sometimes The Australian Media Disgusts Me

Headline by The Age: Russian Star Ready to Have a Ball



My headlines:
Maria Handles Someones Hairy Balls

Maria Pulls Bat, Strokes Balls, Scores!

So many missed opportunities - why don't they employ me?

Communist Ninja Shark Attack!

Wouldn't you like to see that headline on a newspaper? Wouldn't that be the coolest headline ever?

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to talk about was this: last night, I happened to be talking to BourbonBird about a zine project she has planned, and conversation turned to the Sydney monorail. It was then that she said the funniest thing ....

"The only time I see it is late at night when I'm drunk and I need to look at the sky for oxygen."

Ladies and gentlemen, it's still only January, but I believe we have the Quote of the Year, right there. The competition is officially over.

Light Relief

I just thought after my putting on the crankypants in the previous post, readers might appreciate a little light relief.



Isn't life beautiful?