This will hurt me...

Some time ago you may remember that I reported on this blog on some rumours that had been heard around the traps of a nascent organisation that fancied themselves as exponents of a new form of the arts and crafts: guerrilla knitting. Well, one can imagine my surprise to find the following story in today's edition of The Mercury (locally known as The Mockery, the multiple errors in a short colour piece may explain why). As is my want, I have decided to quote liberally from the story titled Woollies warm frozen figures . The intrepid journalist reports: IT seems this week's cold snap has even forced statues around Hobart to pull on their winter woollies. Mystery surrounds the appearance of hand-knitted attire on the Heading South statues, on the waterfront near Mures restaurant. The statue [sic] is a [sic] official tribute to the historic links between the port of Hobart and the Southern Ocean. The knitwear includes, a dog coat, leg-warmers and a scarf, in purples, reds, greens

I have opted for an Icelandic proverb for the title today. They have a few very interesting proverbs, it is well worth the Google to find out its meaning. For the photo we have a bit of rushed graffiti. It is some sort of forlorn angel, and has been painted in a fluorescent paint. That's what initially drew my eye. There was an incomplete picture in the same paint not far from this, hence today's title. All of this prompted me to reflect on a new trend that I have read about, "reverse graffiti". Click on the link to read more, it's well worth it. I like it far more than the stuff that we see around these parts .

Referencing one on my all-time favourite movies in the title bar here, I have here to present to you today one halfway decent photograph (in my estimation) but little more to add. The picture itself was taken this fine winter’s day at 7:41 am down here in little ole’ Hobart by the water. You can just about see the Eastern Shore over there underneath all that mist. It was brisk, but not too cold. I know how keen people are on hearing some words of wisdom, but I will be honest with you, I have little of them today. So I will resort to a couple of pearls from the aforementioned motion picture. The first situation sees the titular hero of the piece being dragged battered and bruised back to ‘the box’, the most unpleasant place in the Florida prison camp. The unnamed guard doing the dragging (reflecting on the recent death of Luke’s Momma) tells him, “I wanna say a prayer for your Ma, Luke...Sorry, Luke. Just doin' my job. You gotta appreciate that.” And poor old Luke, spirit nearly

Another little video today, featuring you-know-who. Henry unfortunately appears to have developed a very French sense of humour. Farts, burps and (especially) falling over have now in our house reached giddying heights of hilarity. Combine this with a newly developed ability to count to three (yes THREE), and we have a real little Louis de Funès in the house. The new game involves counting to three, and then falling over in the manner of someone recently shot by a ruthless villain. We then repeat this approximately three thousand times. In order to prevent serious injury, you will note that I have positioned a number of pillows for the budding comic genius to break his fall. Of course, this does not always work, as his aim is shoddy. Thus, we have had our fair share of tears. Indeed, I considered posting one of those videos, but I am saving that up for the grand prize on Australia’s Funniest Home Videos (or, as I like to call it, ‘People getting seriously hurt and occasionally winni

A fresh roll liberally spread with butter, with a cold bratwurst sausage and Camembert on the final day of its use by date. GLORIOUS! Even better, the Camembert was one third of its usual price because of the use by! Food tastes so much better when you get it on the cheap.

I left work yesterday to find a remarkable looking sky. I took a couple of snaps, but can’t say that I am totally satisfied with them, but then again, I never am. I am like Steve Waugh you see, never satisfied . There is a reason that I have quoted Goethe in the title today. In English, I understand the quote as: In art the best is good enough. High achievers like myself, Steve Waugh and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe all struggle because of our have terribly high standards. Consequently, we are labelled as mad, obsessed or inaccessible. It is a terrible burden, divine genius. [Insert smiley face here.] [UPDATE: I have followed the advice of Freefalling and made this particular photo a little larger. I will use this new power judiciously. For those interested, I generally like to upload photos around 1080 x 810 pixels, which is a decent size. If anyone wants a bigger copy, I am happy to forward them on upon request.]

This is just a very quick post on matters of public policy. I wanted to voice my ongoing displeasure with the Australian Medical Association (AMA) and their seeming inability to separate self-interest with the interests of Australians more broadly. I think (actually, I know), the key thing that frustrates me with this organisation is their constant refrain that “we care, we’re doctors, we help people” as if they practice their profession out of the goodness of their heart. Don’t come the raw prawn fellas, doctors are actually pretty well compensated for the hours that they work. They also work in what must be the most highly protected industry in the entire country. There would be unions across the country that would love having the power to bully and intimidate ‘bosses’ in the way that the AMA regularly does. Anyway, I am glad that we are starting to have this debate . I can only hope that the fact that the AMA appears to have ‘ declared war ’ on the Commonwealth Government might mean

You may have noticed that I have dropped the (My) Photo of the day lead from the header here on in. I will continue to post a photo each day, but figured that it was now redundant. I will just be running with titles from here on in. If you are only interested in the photos though, they can all be accessed by clicking on the " dailyphoto " tag at the foot of each post. Yes, it is another Henry post. People seem to like them, so I just keep running them. This one was taken last night, seconds after I exited the shower and left His Royal Highness to splash about like a mini Idi Amin in his palace. If someone had have told me fifteen years ago that most evenings I would be in the shower lining up pairs of zebras, crocodiles, koalas, rhinos, giraffes and lions with a three foot high tornado with dictatorial tendencies, I would have laughed right in their face. Don’t I look foolish now?

A brand spanking new concept today, in the vein of some of my other ongoing and broken down ideas, it will no doubt have some legs. I have over the past few months amassed a large number of logos of various sports teams from every area of competition. The majority are North American (as is often the nature of the online world), but I am always on the lookout for more (that is an open invitation to point me in the direction of where I might find them). My problem has been that I have so many now, but did not really have an idea of how to present them to the world. So, I have decided to run with themes. So this week, for the inaugural Sports logos worthy of ridicule or admiration (or both) , I have decided to run with Tigers . EPISODE ONE: T I G E R S As the mascot of a sports team, the tiger can rarely be beaten. In real life they are a powerful and majestic beast, with a pretty cool set of colours that you can swipe straight off the shelf. Let’s face it; tigers are maybe the most re

Something a little bit different again today. Each Monday I leave work slightly early to relieve Jen of Henry-watching. I do this in order to enable her to attend a ‘pregnastics’ class. Before you get all excited with visions of the heavily pregnant ladies hurtling towards a vault or throwing themselves around to the strains of Elgar during a floor routine, it is less like gymnastics and more like stretching and Pilates. ANYWAY The point that I am trying to get across is the sun. You see, I usually leave work and miss out on the interesting shapes that a low – but not yet setting – sun can generate. However, I was also in a hurry (pregnastics does not wait for art). As a result I rushed off a series of interesting shots involving seagulls, grass, trees and a low, but bright winter’s sun. Of course, haste makes waste and all of that jazz, and none of my beautifully imagined photographs turned out quite the way that I expected (or wanted) them to. Yet, I will admit that one image in par

I can just picture the scene: "Come on Jimmy, we got git out o'wise dis dang dere queer's funeral al'ready be over!" "Jus' hang on one dang dere minute Jessie. I ain't got all them perves and mis-cre-aints down yet". "Shee-ait come on boy, y'all only gone down and dang miss More-MONS!" "Wait up... wait up... AND... MORE... MONS... DONE!" I happen to think that this is a very interesting hit list of people to loathe. One day I shall draft my own inventory and see how they compare. In particular, I very much like how Mormons appear to have been added as an afterthought. I am not sure which would sting more, being at the top of a "I Hate List", or being relegated to an addendum. For now, let me just say that I don't like "racists", but I have no problem with "people who talk to animals more than god". And although my own personal "ankle biter" can get annoying at times, he doesn'

It was a truly tropical two degrees Celsius as I walked to work today, after a heavy (-ish) frost overnight. Yet still no snow on the mountain! To prove this to all of you in Internet land, here is a photograph taken from the fire escape of the building at 8 am this morning. You may note the cloudless blue sky. I am not really sure why, but it does seem to be the clearer the winter morning this year, the colder it is. I have been thinking about things very much of late. I decided that, on balance, I am in favour of them.

I have expended quite a few words on Robert Mugabe over the past few months, but really, I think that five words is all that you need: What an odious, obnoxious prick. His comment this time? Prior to his dodgy runoff election he comes out with : "Anyone who tries to undermine our land reform we will challenge. We are prepared to fight for our country or to go to war if we lose it - as happened to our forefathers." This is exactly the rhetoric that one could see in Spain prior to the Spanish General Election of 1936 (albeit from both sides in that case). We know what happened there .

I have blogged on Kate Beaton's comics previously . Kate has uploaded a bunch of new comics and I couldn't look past this one featuring a meeting of the minds that we have all been waiting for. Yes, Garfield (the cat) and James A. Garfield (twentieth President of the United States, most famous for being assasinated). I really like her work, so if you are into this sort of thing check it out. [Note, I do like very much how she has continued envisioning Pope John Paul II as a 'boyz in the hood' kind of guy.]

Yes, it is another ship! Drawn to the water yet again, I got a new one for my collection. This one is the MV Oceanic Viking , an armed patrol vessel of the Australian Customs Service. However, it is owned by a Norwegian shipping company and contracted to the Australian Customs Service through P & O Marine Services. A convoluted arrangement, to be sure. It was originally built as an offshore supply vessel, then converted into a vessel used for laying optic fiber cables between Europe and North America, then in 2004 it was converted to an armed patrol vessel and chartered to the Australian Customs Service. With two deck-mounted machine guns, it became the first civilian ship in Australia to carry mounted weapons in peacetime. It is Australian flagged and operated by a civilian crew, carrying armed Customs officers. It seems to get about, chasing illegal Indonesian fishing vessels off the Northern Territory and responding to distress signals as far away as the Kerguelen Islands (as cl

I wish that this was my photograph, but it isn't. It is an aerial shot of the city of Pripyat , in the Ukraine. You may not have heard of Pripyat, an abandoned city in the ' Zone of alienation ' in northern Ukraine, near the Belorussian border. It was home (amongst others) to the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant workers. The city was abandoned in 1986 following the Chernobyl disaster, its population had been around 50,000 prior to the accident. That's what makes this photo so spooky to me. It is not often that you can see a city where one day, 23 years ago, everybody just upped and left. It must be an eerie experience to wander through the streets today. I found this image at a website titled simply "Pictures from the sky" . If you are into impressive photographs, give it a click and check out some more stunning images.

I had to explain the concept of a 'catch-22 situation' to someone the other day (and wishing that I could devise such a rule for my own benefit), I was reminded just how much I love this book. So I thought I that I would post Yossarian's full explanation on the blog. So I have: "There was only one catch and that was catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle." "That's some