Friday, July 31, 2009

A perfect storm

Well that was a sloop john b of an airport experience.

First the plane was delayed four hours

Second, a security guard told me off for letting theNoo play in a cordoned off area, and they did it in quite an officious manner - all the while ignoring my pointed suggestion that their kids corral sucked balls (it didn't really, but it could have been better laid out). This occurring in hour three.

Then thirdly, TheNoo, who was tired and pissed off, lost his rag 20 minutes before boarding and screamed the place down. I can't blame him - thanks to the delay he'd missed his regular sleep.

Which had also hit me as the night before I had around an hour's sleep due to taking a med late and not having enough water with it.

There was theNoo screaming and screaming, inconsolable. A number of fellow passengers who were parents stepped into help - probably inspired to do so after I fist slammed a metal column and started crying.

Yes, I cried. Big welling tears of frustration, anger, and no sleep. I was two seconds from walking away, not wanting to inflict a screaming child on others but I nonetheless got on. The cabin crew were awesome - they rejigged the seats so no one was next to us and fed me water and tried to calm me as I incoherently tried to ask if I should go. The steward and one of the nice mums said that he would calm once the plane took off.

I must have been quite the sight. Crazy tongue poking Einstein hair, sweat pissing down my reddened tear streaked face, voice choking with embarrassment and frustration. I even screamed a sotto rage filled SHUT-UP right into theNoo's ear.

But they were right. When the plane fired up, the noise, vibrations and the air con soothed theNoo to the point that he was asleep in five minutes, cradled against my chest. So was I, my chin resting on his. I didn't wake up until the descent.

It was some of the worst hours of my life - and hideously embarrassing. A sign all would not go well I think was when on the way to the airport I realised I had forgotten his sleeping aid (a soft minkee lamb) and pulled off the freeway to debate whether I had time to go back and get it. I started angry yelling and crying, which must have freaked him out too.

All in all a horrid experience and one I don’t think I can repeat. My anger at the airline for a four hour delay, which caused much of the added on stress however I admit is mollified by the awesome efforts the crew took when I was on board to de stress me and make the environment as best as possible.

Worst. Airport experience. Ever.

Cats are definitely stupid

We have two cats. A boy and a girl. The boy is about nine, and is mute, save for when the vacuum is on. The girl is about 11.

She is a whingey little bitch. Don't get me wrong, love her to pieces. But she has a prickly personality and goes the hiss fairly often. She doesn't like to be touched either. Unless it's on her terms. She's also a sidler - like that co-worker of Elaine's that she had to give a box of tictacs too so she'd hear him coming.

When you're in the kitchen, girl cat likes to express herself with a whine. You look down and she's looking up.

She wants food and is letting you know.

Except of course there is food there. All she has to do is FUCKING LOOK.

Sometimes I've taken her to the bowl and gently pushed her head into it, giving her an almost cat biscuit swirly just so she can sense THE PRESENCE OF THE FUCKING FOOD.

Jesus Christ she shits me.

(On a cloud in heaven, Jesus looks around, then sighs. 'I really hate that expression' he says, heavily).

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Not looking forward to it...

Tomorrow, it's me and theNoo on a plane and at the airport for two hours. Just me and him. No TheWife to make it all magically good.

I am not looking forward to it. Especially given he's still fucking crying.

Sometimes it's just plain fucked. Single parents, I don't know how you do it.

Pie watch

Long time bloggers - and how fertile those blog owned and operated fields were before fucking Facebook and MySpace took everyone off like a monster killing mob with their fancy fucking scrabble and farming programs - will know that I had a thing running called Toast Watch.

I was convinced Toastus Interruptus occured far more often than coincidence allowed for. Yes, it was magical thinking. But it seemed any time I had toast in process of being made or consumed some arsehole would try and call me or someone would try and talk to me - or otherwise ruin my enjoyment of the browned rigid bread. Toast Watch was my e-rant about each incidence.

Mostly that person was theWife. Until one day someone worded her up on Toast Watch and she became conscious of that being a thing. After that by and large she left me to make or munch in peace.

But that was in the golden days when I could eat what I want. Post surgery toast became effectively a no no food. It'd get stuck. One time it got stuck so badly I was 10 minutes away from calling for an ambulance.

No joke.

So the consumption of toast is a bready memory. If this was a movie there would be a Vaseline laced montage of me in slow mo consuming the delish toast - typically honey - though I was not adverse to an occasional foray into jam or peanut butter country. Or just butter. I used to dream of that tree from that Roald Dahl story that grew buttered toast on its branches.

Where one door closes, another opens.

Pies. I try not to go to heavy on the pies because it undermines the plan to try and eat better. At one stage I was downing two of the fuckers a night, and making mini cheese parcels out of the left over pastry.

Now I am on a 1-2 pies a week average. A small amount of ice-cream and cream - a sprinkle of brown sugar - and (for the most part) the excess pastry goes into the compost instead of wrapped around cheese (which I admit was sometimes eaten raw).

However where toast was interrupted, now so is the pie.

It seems any fucking time I want to eat a pie something comes along to interrupt it. Sometimes it's even when the first spoonful is being raised towards my luciously thick lips.

Last night it was a phone call.

Tonight. Just as I was about to heat it up, add accouterments, and otherwise go Broadway on that pastry arsehole, theBoy started crying.

He's been crying on and off for nearly two hours now. Even with Nurofen and Dimetab for his pain and coughing he won't stop. Juice, milk, cuddles - no good.

The universe hates me. It hates me and my pies.

Fuck you universe, you pie hating cunt.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Bruno - a review!

Recently saw Bruno.


How he does the things he does and doesn't get taken out by a gun toting redneck I will never know.

He is a consummate method comedian. I doff my hat.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Sick again

Fresh from my slaying of the surgery dragon I am, once more, sick. Another virus / throat infection.

Worst. Winter for being sick. Ever.

And to think I had a flu shot.

Damn you flu shot, damn you to hell!

I was even sick on my day off. What are the odds of that? A thousand to one?

I've run out of sick leave at work and will have to tap into rec leave now. Which sucks the wang. But hey that's what happens when you run out of sick leave. Sigh.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Sez it all

From the Washington post.

Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin steps down Sunday giving few clues about her political future, which has been clouded by ethics probes, mounting legal bills and dwindling popularity ... she also plans to continue speaking her mind on the social networking site Twitter.

Not via essays. Not Op Eds. Not books. Not a manifesto. Not detailed policy blueprints.

But Twitter ... all 140 characters at a time.

Friday, July 24, 2009

I've done all the dumb things

Once upon a time, before they made weird seafood meets pasta in a pastry shell, Dominos had potato bakes.

They were potato wedges with bacon and cheese baked, and I merde you not, in cream. It came in a foil container.

Back then you had to spend $10 minimum to get a home delivery. So a couple of times I ordered two at once which was just enough to get over the line.

I'm not sure what the energy + fat content was, but it would probably meet the basic nutritional needs of a small third world village.

And so I would eat one ... then would eat the other one.

Trouble was with the potato bake is that the cheese would sometimes harden, and stick to the bottom of the container. This cheese was like the gooey bottom of a home cooked meat pie. The best bit. In the bake's case the bit that contains the best bits of bacon, all lovingly dosed in ectoplasm like cream residue.

But ... you couldn't just peel it out - you would leave bits behind.

So ... I'd turn the container inside out, poke the foil from below so the cheese strand was all puckered round the edges ... then chew it off.

Yes, chew into foil just to get cheese.

Once I cut my tongue up pretty bad - like when Barney sliced upon his gums sucking Moe's tap when the beer ran out.

I'm ... not proud.

However, I eventually kicked the habit, and no longer ordered x2 potato bakes from Dominos at a time.

How did I do this?

Dominos stopped making them.

Fuck you Dominos.

UPDATE: Attention nutritionists, I am not a lost cause. I know this was bad. I was in a bad, but very satiated, place.

Well I made it again

A foul friend poisoned me with a hagiography of Sarah Palin. Much like a crinkle cut fry from Kingleys covered in gravy with only a hint of grass clippings on it from where I dropped it near the pavement, I had to still consume it.

In the author's defence from a writing viewpoint she has a good turn of phrase. But then saying 'the dog feces was churned to a froth and carefully applied to the cake' is still talking up shit.

This was my chosen book I took with me to the clinic where I had by ears re-holed with plastic plugs.

The staff were great - though they didn't let me wear PJ pants as it was unsanitary - but let me keep my undies on. They also very kindly adjusted the ties on my cult robe when it turned out I'd connected tab a to tab c, tab b to d, and tab e to a curtain.

Then into the theatre I went. I have to admit I was concerned at the narrow width of the table they were to operate me on, but they soothed my fears by saying something about wooden barricades.

Hee hee, wood.

Then as I was being prepared they were kind enough to laugh at my suggestion that all their bustling looked like an A-team montage and I softly crooned a snatch of the theme.

Hee hee, snatch.

They were also all cut up to a woman and man about the demise of All Saints.

'What will be our guiding torch now?' said one a touch sarcastically.

All Saints ... pwned.

As they were working out which one of them was Mr T apparently I drifted under. No memory of this at all. So much so when I woke up I did a line from the Top 10, things said when Awakening from Unconsciousness with 'have we started yet?'

The post operation sit was in a comfie lazyboy with coffee and timtams on tap. I even let down my hair, metaphoric style, and read both a OK and a Take 5. Even laced with sedating chemicals and a pleasant buzz of sugar and caffeine post a 12 hour fast the mags were still pieces of mind numbing shitty dross.

So their rumoured plan to staple Oxytocin tabs to the front of a mag in the manner of a free sanitary pad I suggest isn't going to work.

I even saw our fertility doc while I was there and had a pleasant chat with her. Part of me hoped she'd ask me to be a future donor of the man juice because during that whole process I discovered that like Puddy from Rule of Engagement I had super spoof.

Alas the subject of said super spoof did not ... arise.

Finally I was retrieved by Team Family and whisked off to a session of indoor children's freak out, at one of those giant enclosed play centres. The noodles loved it!

Then ... back home. Where dosed up on pain meds I spent a happy three hours sleeping off the day's events.

Ears only hurt a bit now - mostly when I burp. Apparently I have to get fitted swimming ear plugs for use anywhere near water from now on - including showers - lest I get a repeat of inflammation.

Perhaps too I should stop using cotton buds since that fails the elbow test.

Also, never again shall I repeat the Ear Candle shemozzle, which many of you delightful bloggers laughed at me for and justly so.

HM signing off to go for a vigorous constitutional.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

That is totally tits

This may sound a bit "back in my day" grandpa but I just booked a cab online and it took a minute and I got a confirmation email in seconds.

Technology rules!

Da space race

Guy Rundle of Crikey had an interesting post in yesterday's issue where he posited the benefits of the space race aiming for the stars not the solar system.

He also noted than at its highest point NASA got around 4% of the US Budget.

I find it ironic that the great scion of capitalism, the US, spent 4% of its budget on essentially a fuck you contest with the USSR (though it should be noted some of that funding had direct strategic benefit for missiles etc), but have trouble spending 1% of economic output (which is far greater than the budget I admit) in grappling with climate issues, considering this is the only fucking planet we have.

Something to think about at any rate.

Oh, check out Pure Poison where Akerman gets justly laughed at again for suggesting Plimer's book had been launched without serious scientific challenge. One of the links off one of the ones offered had an interesting post about how denialists should instead be called climate change creationists - because it was a similar logic effort engaged in with looking at selective evidence and the jumping up and down and claiming evolution was, after-all, only a theory and not a fact.

Oh dear.

More spam subject un-goodness

"Perfect heat in the meat"

Ladies*, I was unaware that the issue of a too hot, too cold penis was a condition you had to worry about when it came to waving the come on in paddles to Mr Eager-for-your-bits.

Thank god the spammers are out there fighting the good fight to ensure your man's penis is the baby bear from Goldilocks condition of temperature excellence.

Spammers, you suck the wang. Unless that's what you want - in which case you don't. But something instead unpleasant happened to your wang - or if you are wangless - to a wang that's gone the eager in your nesty pegs.

*And men who like men. Rock on my gay brothers.

♫♪ (neyow) (neyow) (neyow) (nee-neyow) (neyow) (neyow) I'm gonna be sedated ♫♪

I'm having to get my ears doctored again. Last time it was under a general. I got a call from the sleepy time Doc. This time it will be a local with sedation. Because apparently previous surgery make this a little tricky. And I have to fast for four fucking hours longer than anyone else.

Hooray! Let's be hoping it's good sedation.

Wish me luck.

Monday, July 20, 2009

If I was a member of an "all girl" Roller Derby team...

I had no idea it even existed!

The suckful thing is that, thanks to my splayed Disney duck like feet, all forms of shoe based locomotion are denied to me.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Tim may know a lot about toys but not much about Ninjas

Kids are not stupid. They're constantly learning and will eventually realise that they have experienced substandard knowledge and seek to correct it.

I was at my local IGA seeking some milk. Most of the IGA's in Canberra, a confederacy of small supermarket retailers, have a toy stand. Cheap plastic toys hanging off a rack that looks like a denuded Christmas tree.

As I was waiting in line one of the toys, courtesy of "Tim the Toyman", caught my eye.

It was a sword. Well, it said it was, but it was shaped more like a dagger. It was a light sword in fact, came with a battery and presumably when two became one ("I need your love like I never needed love before, baby") the sword does gone and lights up.

Naturally "Tim the Toyman" felt the glowing sword needed a backstory, a history if you will, something mythic, it could tie in to make said sword more enticing. After-all you drape some furry underpants barbarians on the packaging it will make it just a tad more attractive.

Tim the Toyman ... went with Ninjas. Yes, Ninjas. Specifically in this case they were "SECRET NINJA FORCE" Ninjas.

Like many things that have a taint of secret sexy, Ninjas have alas fallen victim to the needs of the story teller - or entertainment machine. Many gross overstatements about prowess and magical supernatural powers have come into being over the years, especially in the 80s when you couldn't watch prime time night TV without a fucking Ninja popping up in the storyline - and even had their own shows like this effort.

But I will tell you this "Tim the Toyman".


Think about it Tim. If you're a Ninja, creeping through the night, the last thing you want is your weapon to start emitting a bright glow. Having a glowing weapon I would surmise runs counter to the entire objective of Ninjaness, which is to sneak into a place to off someone, then sneak out again.

This shits me as much as those crappy plastic army playsets where the delusory add in vehicles, typically a jeep and a jet, are SMALLER THAN THE FUCKING SOLDIERS IN THE FUCKING PLAYSET.

Toy people. You face a world of competing mediums, such as the internet and continuously evolving computer entertainment, where the attention of a child is not guaranteed. If you want them to play with your shit, or at least even purchase it, some basic attention to detail like history (ninjas didn't have glowing weapons) and size (too small jeeps and jets) would be a good first step to take.

But then maybe it's not Tim's fault. He could have learned about Ninjas from here.

By the way, if you are worried about being taken out by a Ninja, all you have to do is keep an eye out for their feet.

If their shoes have two toes ... they're a ninja.

Nice one Akerman

Akerman is on Insiders. Insiders seems to always include a rabble rousing tard from News.

Piers' view? Everything is Rudd's fault. Afghanistan - Rudd's fault. Hu's detention - Rudd's fault.

I'm waiting for Heiner to get a mention.

Insiders I suspect is your A demographic - educated, politically aware punters. Piers' cartoonish anti-Ruddite behaviour would be entertaining from a how pathetic sense, but I can hardly see anyone actually being converted to his view.

How is this man still employed?

Friday, July 17, 2009

Comment of the week

"I coughed so hard I just farted"

I hate being fucking sick. This last two weeks of coughing, snot, aching, fits and so forth have sucked the wang. And not the good kind of wang - the bad kind.

But I seem to be getting better so that's something at least. Today I got to sleep late, wake up and have patty meal, and play Warlords II (home brew map based on Greyhawk), and watch Conan all at the same time. That's a pretty sweet way of getting better.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Things not to shout out in the workplace

I've been following the Swine Flu epidemic closely, and reading every story that appears about a new fatality.

As I read I've been playing Underlying Causes lotto, trying to guess which paragraph the story will reveal that the victim in question had health issues that ultimately meant their demise.

Today I saw the first story, I won't link to it, where a healthy person died.

Naturally I shouted out 'ha ha, sucked in fitty, take that in the neck.'

A colleague asked what I was talking about. Proudly I announced that pig flu was starting to claim the fit and vigorous. 'That's for all us unhealthy people' I added, possibly employing a black power fist salute.

Yeah ... turns out it was a young child.

Area man feels chastised. And rightly so!

From Fabio's heart ... to you ...

Hello ladies and men who like men, I am Fabio, wünderman. No, that’s not enough for Fabio. Uppercase I think, WÜNDERMAN.

The ladies, and men who like men, you like the Fabio – and too much I fear. Some men approach my level of beauty as well, and forever are being troubled by too much attention.

The ladies, and men who like men, they see Fabio and they think he is up for it. But no, the reality is Fabio can only perform sexually seven to eight times a day before even Fabio needs a love nap.

I have been blessed and cursed by my beauty. Legend has it even as a baby fresh from my mother’s womb the attending midwife attempted to mount Fabio. And my mother, my dear sweet mother, did get moist in her vag-glands from Fabio’s suckling.

In my many travels I have found but one thing and one thing alone repels the ladies, and men who like men.

Fabio, who with men (who did not like men because they would not be focussed on Fabio’s needs otherwise) in white coats, has developed a potion – a poultice if you will – that can temporarily quench the desires of the ladies and men who like men – from attempting to pull down Fabio’s tight leather pants and have sexual congress with his – that is my – parts which are occasionally private in nature.

Fabio is proud to introduce his sexy new roll on, Extract of Goose Blood. Yes, a little dab here and a little dab there on the face, and the ladies – and men who like men – temporarily have their flames of desire turned down to an acceptable level.

Fabio was turned on to this secret repelling agent from a horrifying accident involving Fabio, a roller coaster, and a low flying goose. Fabio could tell from the reactions of the many ladies clustered around him like moths around a very bright light that they, while still wishing to mount Fabio, most likely would not have done so while blood and feathers were smeared across Fabio’s face.

So there you have it beautiful people. If you need to dim the burning passion in another, simply roll on Fabio’s extract of goose blood. Also, the roll on is shaped like the top 1/8th of Fabio’s Johnson, so if you like, and you know you might, you can have some sexy alone time as well.

However don’t do what Fabio did and leave the roll on out on the chair next to the shower…

Sunday, July 12, 2009

And then there were three

Fresh from the horror that is the life and surrounds of Jacko comes word that Dear Daddy, who once dressed up as Pennywise and slithered through Jackson's window to teach him a lesson to leave it closed, has plans for Jacko's kids.

"I keep watching Paris, she maybe wants to do something, you know," he said. "And Blanket, he can really dance, that's what they're saying. He can really dance."

Is it me, or is JJ, replete with sinister pencil mo and old hat, starting to resemble the crossroads devil from Blues mythos?

Same coin?

Jacko ...


Oh dear

Spammers who offer to improve the capabilities of my khram are beginning to sound a lot like the Czech brothers from SNL.

A sampling of recent Subject lines...

Extra hours of making her happy
Something to raise your lever

Improvement for night intruder

Make your man's carrot grow

Become legendary macho

For never failing ill-life

Never finish fast in bed

Bringing fuel of passion

Use your carrot better

Give your nob real power

Pilules for boy-on-girl action

Make her sweaty and exhausted

Love response won't be weak

Desire activator

Send your satellite inside her!

Liquidate man's main problem

Singer Sewing Machine $199 + Free Shipping!

That last one is particularly obtuse.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Recent DVD splurge

Being sick, and last weekend, I've had the opp to watch some new release DVDs. Here's the list order of being watched (first to last) and some words

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Liked this a lot. Beautifully shot. The scene with the sub was genuinely dramatic. A tragic romance. Awesome CGI.

Animation was spectacular. Story was excellent. Voice work good. Rhino (a hamster in a ball) stole the movie.


Great stuff. Brolin nailed Bush. Elisabeth Banks as Laura was disturbingly cute. Thandie Newton's Condie was hilarious. Loved Dreyfus as Cheney - though Dreyfus didn't have that Walrus barking gro
wl that we know and love.

Big Stan

TheWife vetoed this as a couple choice so this was a movie for me being at home sick. I liked it. Sure, basic plot, but the humour was okay and I did like the positive no rape message.

This shouldn't be a spoiler because it's in the previews but in order to retard the likelyhood of rape, Big Stan gets a sphincter tatt. Something really scary. In the best traditions of cinema where what is not seen is scarier than what is ... we don't see it. But the horrified guard who does (during a strip search) says it's alien and another that it stares right into his soul.

My mental pic for a prison rape stroke killer of a sphincter tatt ... was this.


Thursday, July 09, 2009

If HM were on Facebook...

Mikey is ... feeling sorry and sad for himself because he has a nasty throat infection and is tired of honking up goobs and fishing around for a tissue and being unable to find it and wiping it on the carpet instead.

Eyedrobe Malfunction: Wilkins

Today show, Australia: The set of the Today Show in Australia saw an extraordinary event when celebrity newsologist, Richard Wilkins, had what witnesses called an ‘eyedrobe malfunction’, as a machine design to assist Wilkins to emote during the live coverage of the Jackson Funeral went into overdrive.

‘Richard isn’t just a celebrity news reporter – he is a celebrity,’ said an unnamed producer. ‘And as a B lister on the cusp of A-listing, he needs to maintain an edge. His face is his job.’

Left: It begins...

Unfortunately for Wilkins looking good has, like for so many celebs, come at a price. In that showing any form of emotion other than mild surprise has become somewhat difficult – due to the injection of agents, originally developed out of bio warfare research, to smooth facial wrinkles.

‘Richard’s face is the emotive antithesis of a tampon box,’ said the producer, referring to how the packaging of feminine hygiene products often spruiks the numerous physical activities a lady can enjoy while using a device such as horse riding, swimming, pole vaulting, and Parkour. ‘He can’t cry, laugh, sing, or engage in any other emotion dependent on large scale facial movement. Therefore he needs the occasional mechanical assistance.’

The assistance in this case came in the form of artificial tear ducts, saline solution fed through micro flesh coloured tubes funneled through Wilkins’ elaborate coifed hair and along cheekbones and up to the inner corner of his eyes. The system designed to produce droplets in the manner of a garden irrigation system at the press of a button concealed in Wilkins’ hand.

‘Alas we didn’t explain the operation to Wilkins, who assumed the control was used in the same manner as the pain medication release button you find in post operative theatres attached to day surgeries, and he pressed it several times, assuming there would be a cut off point…’

Wilkins’ 'eyedrobe malfunction' soaked numerous panelists and special guests, all of whom had something to do with Jackson – such as the hotel maid that serviced Jackson’s room when he was in Australia and married Debbie Rowe (”eees generous tipper”) to that idiot with the bejewelled half fez that’s always dragged out for musical identity commentary when anyone remotely famous karks it.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009


I just grappled with the beast that is Amazon and successfully placed an order for a used book.

Book price (USD) - $2.95.

Total cost with shipping .... (AUS) - $20.

But ... I've spent five years looking for it in 2nd hand shops to no avail and Me Wantee!

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

If HM was on Twitter ...

Thank god. Out of here. Boo to shopfronts!

Feeling postal...


I've wasted so much fcking time!

Why can't I do this through the web?!

Noooooo! This is so fcked.

Plse... I just want to get outofhere.

Oh my gawd, hurry the fck up.

Really should have gone to toilet 1st

Oh come on!

Checklist - 'Do I sometimes veer dangerously down the lane for 0 rsn? Yes/sometimes/no

Only decent sized thing to rd is Driving after 75.

Nothing to read. Always bring a book - always!

I have a B ticket. Just A tickets on the queue screen.

Jesus Christ, how many people are here?! I thought it'd be like 2 ple.

At the govt shopfront to get my defect notice lifted

Good bye, good ...

So Sarah Palin has quit eh? Didn't want to be a "lame duck" and actually, you know, govern the state to which she was elected governor.

As noted in this Vanity Fair article, one of the reasons she is popular with certain elements of the right wing rantosphere is that she's the first fertile (and semi-hot) woman on the right to ever come along (as best as I can tell) and gain national prominence.

Another aspect of the Palin phenomenon bears examination, even if the mere act of raising it invites intimations of sexism: she is by far the best-looking woman ever to rise to such heights in national politics, the first indisputably fertile female to dare to dance with the big dogs. This pheromonal reality has been a blessing and a curse. It has captivated people who would never have given someone with Palin’s record a second glance if Palin had looked like Susan Boyle. And it has made others reluctant to give her a second chance because she looks like a beauty queen.

Did this make her a good administrator? Hell no.

UPDATED: Richard Cohen on the Wash Post weighs in...

Naming Palin to the GOP ticket -- a top-down choice by McCain -- was the most reckless decision any national politician has made in the longest time, and while it certainly says something about McCain, it says even more about his party. It has lost its mind.

Recall, after all, that Palin was not McCain's first choice. That was either Joe Lieberman or Tom Ridge. Both were rejected by the party establishment because of their appalling moderation on social issues over which the president has little direct authority anyway -- abortion, above all -- and in Lieberman's case because he had been a Democrat. In desperation, McCain turned to Palin.

Was there a scream of protest? No. Did the Republican Party demand to know of McCain what the hell he had done? Again, no. Was it okay with the GOP if the person a heartbeat away from the presidency was -- pardon me, but it's true -- a ditz with no national experience whatsoever? You betcha. The party had cracked up, accepting a nullity because she was antiabortion over a seasoned senator and former governor because they were not. Ideology won. The nation lost.

See here.

UPDATE2: ... and Eugene Robinson's view...

The reasons she gave for stepping down are not just contrived or implausible but literally nonsensical. She can most effectively serve the people of Alaska by ceasing to exercise the powers of chief executive? She worries that as a lame duck she would somehow be compelled to waste taxpayer money on useless junkets? In her "Don't Cry For Me, Alaska" news conference announcing her departure, the folksy non sequiturs -- "Only dead fish go with the flow" -- were like nuggets of Cartesian logic amid a tub of mush.

See here.

♫ ♪ ♫ Call me (Senator) Al ♫ ♪ ♫

My progressive hero, Al Franken, last week was ruled to also be Senator Al Franken of Minnesota, the supreme court of that state ruling that the vote count had indeed Al as the legit winner.

Here's a Washington Post article of his coming into the building to get ready for the swearing in. What an awesome moment. Take that wingnuts!

PS Media Matters has recorded some of the wingnuts have a sooky sook moments.

Monday, July 06, 2009

A salty sea dog vents against ACT traffic

As punters know my dodgy old Mazda got a defect notice. Luckily for me there's a mechanic near my work.

I booked it in and dropped the car off. I mentioned the defect notice.

'Yeah those fuckers are fucks,' said the mechanic. 'It's nothing more than a fucking revenue raising exercise... the fuckers. Fuck them - all of them.'

I'm paraphrasing here but it was definitely tinged with both frequent use (and derivatives of) the word fuck and dripping hatred for the 'fuckers' that run around carparks giving defect notices to people.

It was pleasantly refreshing to hear it - given my being ensconced in a workplace where use of language such as that results in a talking to - and from a person that would directly fiscally benefit from said fuckers fucking running around and giving fuckers fucking defect notices.

PS Fuck.

That dog's got a puffy tail!

I was on my vigorous, shin straining walk when a couple of ducks crossed the path in front of me.

They were waddling so fast they were almost running. They fully reminded me of the dog with the puffy tail that Homer chases.

I was two seconds away from shouting 'HERE PUFF, HERE PUFF' and chasing them.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Take that intertubes ... and connecting devices

I am a bit of a numpty when it comes to electronic devices. TheWife, for example had to set up the digital recorder because it nearly made me cry :(

We've decided to advance our IT solutions and get a laptop with a wireless connection. I've had the laptop a week and the router for three days before I even summoned the courage to open them.

I failed last night to set up the router but this morning rang up my ISP, having carefully gotten a router modem they'd provide support on, and the lovely Indian man walked me through it (and didn't give a fake name either).

So that works.

I cracked open the laptop and initiated that process. Finally I got to the point of setting up a wireless connection.

No dice. It wanted me to reboot my modem. The lovely modem I'd just getting settings set on with Achmed.

(That's not a slight, that was his name).

So instead I read the manual, worked out a setting security default, set a password and then clicked the go button.

With a tentative hand I unplugged the Ethernet cable ... and it's still up!

I am writing from my dining room - with nary a cord plugged in to the magic new laptop. Hooray for me Captain Vegetable! I managed to accomplish something a 12 year old can do.

HM, signing off.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Abbott pwned

Following on from Tony Sez, I sent the ABC article to a friend for her edification.

Edification = Outrage.

In response to this little nugget of Abbott wisdom, to whit "What makes these actions intrinsically more harmful because they happen on a long weekend or at Christmas or at Easter?" in relation to double demerits, she had this to say.

Like HELLO its because there are way more accidents during these periods. Jesus.

What a idiot. Obviously that's what smoking parents in a car does to you!

Abbott. Pwned.

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Move over Kate...

Wow, another proto-Hanson has reared her head (I'd say ugly but her SMH photo suggests, physically at least, otherwise).

A presenter for a NSW community radio station that specialises in multicultural programming has been reprimanded after she was revealed to be an administrator of several racist, anti-immigration groups on Facebook ... [such as] "F--- Off, We're Full"

See the rest of the SMH story here.

Some choice quotes

"If we allow the Islamic faith to continue to grow, sooner or later the Australian way of life will be destroyed,"

"I can't even imagine where we start to fix the problems caused by the introduction of this *cough cough* religion and its invasion of our society, but something needs to be done. Before its (sic) too late."

[Of bashed Indian students] "playing the victim card... the shit around their head must do something to their brain".

"Maybe a gun to their head might help them get the hint that they are not wanted here!!,"

When ... approached for comment over her Facebook posts, she said it was "unfortunate" patriotism was now regarded as racism.

"As a proud Aussie, I welcome new Australians in the hope and belief that they too, become proud Aussies," she said.

"This country is beautiful the way it is, and like most average citizens, [I] do not want our society to change to suit others' needs."

Oh dear, I think access to a dictionary for definitions of the words patriotism and racism is in order.

Still ... plenty of space on the air waves for this kind of thing. After-all Alan Jones isn't too healthy...

Tony Sez...

Worst. Ex health minister. Ever.

PS Thanks to Grods for the nose news.

UPDATE: Melissa Sweet, writing in Crikey, was at the event where Abbott was speaking. Someone asked Abbott about the mechanics of legislation.

His most interesting observation came when asked about what it takes to get legislation through Cabinet.

He said three factors counted: how hard it is to do; how closely it conforms to the values and principles of those around the Cabinet table; and whether is it going to be politically popular or difficult. Or, as he summed up, “the feasibility, desirability and popularity.”

It’s a salient reminder for those who believe evidence should be a central driver of policy -- it didn’t even rate an explicit mention.

It reminds me of when during the 2007 election period then Minister for Health, Tony Abbott, said he would put off major decisions because he was too busy with the election.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

80s comedy gold

Ah, that takes me back.

I still say 'you're wrong Jana' to this day...


Check out this obsessive ‘was Reggie the Bassist or not’ riff in The Archies' wiki.

The Archies are sometimes jokingly compared to the seminal '60s rock band The Doors, as the Doors also had no bass player. However, there is some controversy over whether Reggie played bass or not; in most drawings, his guitar looks identical to Archie's, making him the band's second (or co-lead) guitarist. On the other hand, a number of drawings (including the one above) clearly show the instrument to have four tuning keys, the most common bass design. In addition, there are six-string bass guitars, and the recordings of the Archies' songs regularly featured a bass player, suggesting that Reggie in fact was the bass player. Also, it should be noted that for the product description for The Archies Christmas Album, Reggie was stated as the bass guitarist.

It should be noted that in a mid-'90s story, a conversation between Jughead and Betty in the opening panels state Reggie as being the group's bass player, as well as a story edited in more recent issues. However, because storylines and hobbies/activities in the Archie world change from story to story, these two stories cannot be considered canon.

Seriously, that’s plane spotting obsessed. That person is an anorak clad thermos holder no mistake. That’s up with those idiots I heard vox popping on ABC radio who gasmed about being present at Wimbledon for the first official during tournament roof closure.

Web button on the SMH

My say eh? Can't move eh? ...


Reel Life

From the wiki for Arrested Development, one of the finest TV series of the past 20 years.

J. Walter Weatherman (Steve Ryan), a one armed amputee, is an old employee of George Senior. Weatherman appears in flashbacks from many episodes where, as hired by George Sr, he would lose his prosthetic arm in attempts to scare Michael, Gob, Lindsay, and Buster and teach them such lessons as "Always leave a note", "Don't yell" or "Don't leave the door open with the air conditioning on".

From the wiki for Joe Jackson, father to Michael Jackson.

One night while Michael was asleep, Joseph climbed into his room through the bedroom window. Wearing a fright mask, he entered the room screaming and shouting. Joseph said he wanted to teach his children not to leave the window open when they went to sleep. For years afterward, Michael suffered nightmares about being kidnapped from his bedroom.

PS Holy snapping duckshit. See here for a YT of episode snippet.