Ninety percent of the politicians give the other ten percent a bad name.

So I hear around the traps that there has been an election of some kind, somewhere, featuring some voting, some parties and some dudes. Great to hear. On that note, I wish Helen Clark and company the best, and support New Zealanders in whatever they decide, it's an important time for that great country.

What better way to kick back after a hard few weeks on the huskings than stripping down to the undies, hopping on the banana lounge with a fine malt whiskey in one hand, and a Paddle Pop in the other?

I'm not sure about the Paddle Pop actually, but Lark Distillery, pictured above, is a great place for whiskey. So come on, what are you waiting for? Cast your vote, hop on the plane, loosen the strides and I'll bring the Paddle Pops!

Comments

yournotalone said…

I am not from NZ but I wish I could do that, well, may be in 20-30 years if politicians will not stifle the development of technologies we will be able to travel from Europe to Tasmania in 2h with superfast trains, who knows:)

6 November 2008 at 06:32

Kris McCracken said…

Aigars, we don't have passenger trains here in Tasmania, much to my frustration. It seems that your politicians are much like ours, stifling new ideas!

12 November 2008 at 09:05

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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