This will hurt me...

Here is Henry doing his best impression of a French train driver. I really must say that his impression was spot on. We spent 45 minutes sitting on a stationary train and he didn't do an ounce of work, just sat there looking smug. Actually, that's not completely correct. True to form , he was not working. Rather, if you look very closely, you should be able to see that he is eating a tasty-looking scroll (he didn't share), from Jean Pascal's Patisserie in Newtown. What you can't see is the croissont that he snatched from me and gobbled up. Again, in a fine impersonation of a French rail worker, face stuffed full, he then proceeded to shout (mumble) "plus! plus!! PLUS!!! " ("more! more!! MORE!!! ") In the end, we called it quits and decided to walk home. Henry did make one last offer, he would think about starting up the engine for an immediate thirty percent increase in his sultana allowance, a funded pension indexed at three times the nationa

I am going to be totally honest with you and admit that I think that Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts, should be regarded every bit as highly as any other creative genius that you could name. Forget the never-ending line of Snoopy merchandise for a moment (and I like Snoopy, don't get me wrong). But go back and read the comic strips, especially the firts twenty years, and in it you will find that Peanuts is right up there with Fyodor Dostoevsky in exploring the bleakness of the human condition. Without doubt, the very first strip set the tone that was to follow (as usual, click to enlarge): Although Schulz softened somewhat in the latter period of Peanuts, certain elements remained constant. The most obvious of these lay in the fortunes of Good ol' Charlie Brown. Again, of all literary characters, Charlie Brown may well be my favourite. Think Yossarian, only through a Russian existentialist lens. Perhaps the one constant in Charlie Brown's life is pain. His most appealing

Like a miserable downtrodden dog forever returning to its cruel and abusive owner, I find myself drawn back to the notorious Tasmanian State Offices Building for today's photo. This picture was taken just hours ago this evening, after yet another day of finding myself stuck in the office doing a bit of overtime (well, not overtime because they don't pay overtime they do Time Off In Lieu of payment [TOIL]. And toil it is!

I have strenuously avoided talking about the Australian Commonwealth’s Budget that was ‘handed down’ this week . It is obviously an important one, being the ALP’s first of this term, but went pretty much along with the script. Incoming social democratic governments have generally played it safe in their first budgets over the past twenty years in the Anglo-European context, so there was nothing too hair-raising or surprising. What does frustrate me (although not nearly as much as it frustrates Jen), is the tendency these days for every kind of interest group , business and indeed individual to come out and bemoan how much worse off they are than everybody else and how unfair it is because they personally did not come off better. You know what people, it doesn't always have to be about you . Anyway, I just wanted to say that and then link to Mark Bahnisch at Lavartus Prodeo , who has bothered to say in greater depth what I have been thinking, but don't have the time to writ

It is the sun rising over the Derwent today. It was rather cold this morning, but I braved the chill to snare this photograph. I think that it is nice. Despite being buys at work, there has been a number of questions that have been on my mind all day today. They generally involve smurfs . I mean, if a smurf gets all embarrassed and flushed, what colour does its face go? What colour is their blood? Are they warm blooded? Do they eat meat? Do they kill? What do they kill? How do they kill? I am kind of scared of smurfs. I reckon that I could handle maybe a dozen, but get TOO many. Man, you wouldn't stand a chance.

This video is solely for the Henry fans out there. He is doing his Marilyn Monroe impression, with a raisin standing in the place of a beauty spot (which sounds so much nicer than 'mole').

I have posted a picture of a sign spotted on the bus today. The timing could not have been better, as I have a few issues that I would like to get off my chest. Thus, I have decided to share my letter with all of you out there in Internet-land. "Sir, I am contributing to this review as a regular patron of Metro Eastern Shore bus services, as I utilise public transport to commute from Geilston Bay to and from my workplace in the city. I shall not dwell on more technical matters, such as the need for fluid dampeners or adequate driver training. Instead, I will focus on nine (9) easy issues that Metro can address and would comprehensively improve the quality of the passenger experience. The first concerns individuals who arrive at a stop when you are waiting for the bus and ask, "Has the bus come yet?" Logic should dictate that if the bus had arrived, one would not be standing there. I feel that if at any point the driver is informed that someone has asked this, Metro shou

Regular readers of this blog will know how passionately committed I am to ensuring that people are empowered to cultivate a marriage that remains loving , passionate and most of all successful . Whether it is awareness around ignorance in the area of inadequate drainage ; the importance of complete feminine hygiene , particularly when a wife is lax about issues related to her charm and health; the intimate relationship between a woman’s work ethic and her attractiveness; why regular beatings are not conducive to a constructive partnership; as well as the importance of fresh coffee . Thus, I would like to think that this record, and many, many years of successful marriage (over two consecutive years and rising!) more than establishes my qualifications as an effective source of marital guidance. Personably, I owe most of my practical knowledge about dealing with a temperamental spouse through the groundbreaking and still magnificent work of the long departed, but dearly missed, Barba

Yet again , I have been drawn to the water and the dazzling orange hull of the Aurora Australis! I had intended to post a photograph of the visiting US Navy amphibious assault ship, the USS Tarawa . Unfortunately, none of my shots met with my strict editorial standards (I am a hard taskmaster). Thus, you get to see the Aurora again, albeit this time with a little friend on the left. Not all is lost though, with Greg at Hobart Daily successfully capturing the visitors very nicely here . I was also pleased to hear a report from notorious man-about-town (and sometime commentator on this blog), the mysterious ‘Coach’, that the pride of the US Navy were spotted in full force at the thrilling clash between the Hobart versus Clarence blockbuster at North Hobart Oval on Saturday. By all accounts the Budweiser was flowing, the Hobart merchandise was flying out the door and even the good old National Pie went down well with the sailors. Perhaps the AFL need to exploit this newfound love of th

Without a shadow of a doubt, Hugo Chávez is the rudest head of state currently going around. Over the years, we have seen and heard many examples of his discourteous behaviour: ex-wives ; ex-lovers ; Spanish royals ; US Ambassadors ; the General Assembly of the United Nations ; the US President (a lot); Mexicans ; along with pretty much everyone else! So there should be no surprise that he's at it yet again ! I do like the logic though: Angela Merkel is German politician. She identifies (broadly) as ' of the right '. Some German right wingers supported Fascism in the 1930s and 1940s. Hitler was a Fascist. Ergo , Merkel = "..." With those powers of reasoning, Chavez should be heading up the UTas branch of Socialist Alliance !

There are a few notable things about this picture. In the foreground you can see the The Hobart Flying Angel Centre , which belongs to the The Mission to Seafarers . But it is the large building in the background that dominates the scene, the archetype of a 1967 bureaucratic building, the Tasmanian State Offices Building, which sits immediately behind Parliament House . Now one might think that such a grey and soulless building would evoke little passion, but that is forgetting the nature of Tasmanians, give us an opportunity and we can fight over anything for years. Thus when the State Treasurer hinted that the building may be demolished , one just knew that any number of groups would emerge readying themselves to man (person?) the barricades and save the grand old dame ! Yes, the monstrosity pictured above is on the (very long) list due for assessment for the Tasmanian Heritage Register. As is the manner of such things, it will perhaps be a number of years before actual assessment.

As a self-confessed lover of the hills hoist , I can only say that I am bemused by this story in the Sydney Morning Herald coming out the US. The notion that drying one's washing in the sun and fresh air would constitute an act of civil disobedience is insane to me, especially if you factor in the whole kerfuffle concerning human-influenced global warming. The article is well worth a read, and cites New York State, Vermont and New Hampshire as states which limit your ability to dry clothes outside. I particularly like that last line quoting Vermont Senator Richard McCormack: "I so love my country. But I look at [it] from time to time and say to myself, 'This place is insane'." I would be interested to hear how people manage to dry their washing where you are, and if you live in any of the places mentioned, were you aware of these laws? I mean, do people just get on an ignore it and dry their clothes any way they like, or are people actually punished?

I was going to say that I have a confession to make, but it is more like a declaration. I love the taste of pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. For years I scoffed and laughed at the absurdity of it, but now I have seen the light! All of those years wasted when I could have been eating them together, it makes me weep...

I though that we were overdue a bit of grit and grime from Hobart. This picture was taken yesterday morning, and I am almost certain that it is a reasonably common scene in many cities on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Having a look at it, I am reminded of once of my all time favourite quotes, courtesy of the world's most famous Jewish Cowboy, Kinky Friedman: Friday night was the night most people thought they were supposed to have fun. Trouble was most people didn't know what fun was or how to have it, so things usually ended up pretty ugly.