This will hurt me...

I know that I have severely limited the world's access to the gritty urban mean streets of Hobart, but well, you're not missing much. I have previously mused on the prevalence of penises in youthful graffiti, profound messages on poles, I've even mentioned how we've got the word 'dick' scrawled on our fence (it keeps reappearing)! Today's picture does not dwell on such low brow material, it concerns the ongoing ideological war bubbling away under the surface here in the southernmost capital city in Australia. I shall let the image speak for itself, but tomorrow I shall expand and show another photograph of the grubbiest former vegetarian eatery in the world ! Tomorrow at one: McCracken shall rant on anarchists!

I like this one just the way that it is.

Forgive my shoddy MS Paint skills, but when Henry pulled this pose yesterday, I knew that I would just have to use the photo, even if it was so flooded with light that it was difficult to look at. The moment that finger went up, it sparked an instantaneous recognition of the “Lenin pose” (as I like to call it) and consolidates all that I have foreseen of this young man thus far .

Here they are again, both a little happier. Henry has done his forward roll and Ezra has got his grizzle out of the way. I’m not sure if I like this shot because Henry’s stance evokes that of a protective lioness over her cubs, or whether it’s just Ezra’s bloody great big eyes. Wait a sec, I know what it is; I like this shot because Henry has finally stopped moving and I have managed to get them both in the same frame finally. Odd angle or not, this is an achievement worthy of celebration.

So here we have an angry little baby in the foreground, and a toddler doing his best Olga Korbut impression in the background. For some reason, Henry seems compelled from some external force to forward roll, forward roll, forward roll ! It matters not that there is a baby in front, a box of lego, an innocent father; the only thing that matters is the forward roll . I sometimes wish that life were that simple for me.

Because I feel like it, and because I can, today I am running with a Henry and Ezra BONANZA theme. No, that doesn’t mean Henry will be dressed up in spurs, tassels and a twelve gallon hat calling himself “Hoss” and knocking blokes out for dissing his “paw”, nor will Ezra be going by “lil’ Joe” and going on to build a petite abode on the pampas nor act as an angel sent from heaven to help people prevent their savings being swindled by unscrupulous investors. [One does hope this convoluted bit of pop culture riffing doesn’t pass everybody by.] Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I am back at work today, don’t want to be, so have colluded with the robot to have regular pictorial updates throughout the day. So here is the first, dear little Ezra showing off his feet, taken yesterday afternoon and displaying little evidence of any after effects of his shots. So, for the time being, our little man has a halo of protection for the following: Hepatitis B; Diphtheria, tetanus and whoo

Back to the Derwent River! But this is from yesterday, no work today as it was eight week vaccination time and I wouldn't miss it for quids. Of course, my role mainly involved chasing Henry around for two hours as he weaved through throngs of kids named Braydon, Jayden, Rayden, Kayden and even one called River looking for unearned jelly beans. Gold was struck as Ezra was terribly good, and Henry happily snared his reward. After the trip out, I did ponder to myself, "whatever happened to 'Steve' (or 'Mark', 'Dave' or 'Colin')?

If you’re like me, and take pleasure in cruelly and insensitively laughing about other people looking stupid; you are sure to enjoy Sexy People , a website devoted (oddly enough), to photographs of sexy people. Here is a favourite of mine:

Quoting Oliver Cromwell in the title, I am rock solid in my belief that I already have access to a few honest men in my household! In many ways Ezra is already beginning to demonstrate a Cromwellian temperament, against Henry’s Jacobin flourish. At nearly two now, the elder lad reminds me of Robespierre quite a bit: intelligent, zealous, and obstinate. Although I count both historical figures amongst my heroes (of a sort), as one half of the hegemonic power base at home, I am sure that you realise keeping a close eye on these two is very much in my interest. But onto other matters! Given that tomorrow we shall surrender dear little Ezra ™ to the eight week vaccinations, I felt it an opportune time to assess and compare the two. Although in some ways comparisons are indeed odious ( cf. Sir John Fortescue), I have chosen to present both of them for your gratification.

Here you can see the effect of wind on the Derwent River this morning. I wanted another shot of the water, but it just wasn’t happening today, so you get this. I thought that this was a startlingly original choice to showcase Hobart in mid-September. Then I clicked through and saw Ben's photo of the tide is coming in to Tahunanui Beach , in Nelson, New Zealand. Obviously the breeze and the water was on a number of people's minds down here at the bottom of the world. I quite like the effect of mine, but I think that I like Ben's better. I'm not too fussed, as there are a lot of great shots on that blog, even granted the tense state of New Zealand/Australia relations that remain 27 years after the underarm incident , and merely months after an even greater scandal . I think that the reasons that things can get tense between our two great nations is primarily rooted in our similarities: (to quote our former PM) we're at the arse end of the world; we are distant childre

Occasionally this job throws up a few interesting studies my way, and I thought that I’d share one with you. I’m preparing a document for a hearing on a liquor licensing application, and was trawling the literature looking for information on the correlation between outlet density and community outcomes (negative and positive). So the case study that I’ve been looking at involves Rodney King, angry youths and a burning sensation that one might feel downstairs after a top night out. I know what you are thinking, “what are you talking about, you stupid, stupid man?” Well, after the 1992 riots in Los Angeles that emerged from the verdict in the trial of the police officers charged with assaulting Rodney King, it was found that many liquor stores were looted and burned out. In fact, liquor outlets tended to be specifically targeted, and copped over and above the average when it came to rough treatment. For many local community groups this presented an opportunity to achieve something that

I thought that it has been too long without a shot of the river. Moreover, it's been too ong without a shot of my friend the Aurora Australis . And what's more, it's got my other old friend Windeward Bound parked right behind it! There is something quite imposing about that shade of orange as you round the corner and see it waiting there, even more when you have the smaller brig slotted in behind. I shall not dwell on young and eager Christians this evening, for they have taken up far too much of my time of late. I've already talked sharks, and have been looking into an aquarium, I feat that we may have to take out a few walls to get it up and running. Maybe we'll have to invest in a large cage down in Geilston Bay. I'll speak to the ducks, we might be able to arrange some sort of time share agreement. I'll keep you posted. I am already thinking about a name, however, and decided to consult the crowd. I like Clive for a boy, and Beryl for a girl. What do

I will be honest with you and admit that aside from penguins and wombats, my favourite creatures tend to be bloodthirsty killers. Thus, I am thinking of getting the lads either a crocodile or great white shark for Christmas. I mean really, isn’t this guy a cutie? If you’re a shark freak out type like me, you might like to check out this collection of images and links from Dark Roasted Blend . It’s well worth a few minutes browsing.

You're all probably already well across this, as it's been all over teh Internets like, a million years already, but I keep meaning to post it and keep forgetting. Today I haven't. You see, I took this photo: And then I uploaded it into Bakumatsu Koshashin Generator , clicked on Convert , and zapp! A ye olden dayes Henry! Click the link and you can do it too, if you want to.

Here is Australia's next top supermodel in action, playing on a wooden fort with a pink pram! The pram is an effective rouse to smuggle as many balls as possible to the throw at anyone silly enough to approach the fort. Plus, the chicks kind of dig the kind of sensitive, new age man who is happy to be seen marching back and forth with a pink pram. Unsatisfied with my previous post, FF has asked what it is precisely that makes me uncomfortable about young people embracing the love of Jesus with the sort of verve and vigour normally associated with a cat on heat. Well, I'm not sure if there is a precise reason. Perhaps it just all seems unnatural to me. Someone at death's door I can imagine it, you're hedging your bets, I can understand the logic to that. Some profound trauma? Yeah, the world loses it's bearings, religion can give you a foundation that'll get you through, I see that. Some hot young thang with legs up to here and an arse just thinking about that

Aararat’s finest , Freefalling, has asked for my opinion on Hillsong . As a fellow who professes no faith of a religious sort (but plenty in the potential goodness of rational thought), I feel that my best response is to restate that wouldn’t even consider attending the church until they book wonder band Sonseed. More via the Intertubes: I will add the comment that the Hillsong crowd, primarily young people, make me a little uncomfortable. Teens that embrace religion with unbridled enthusiasm independent of a) familial pressure; b) trauma of some kind; or c) chasing the hope of love (or something far filthier ) kind of freak me out. I've never had the call, so I'm probably not qualified to comment. I was always far more interested in footy, reading books, and looking at girls to go to reflect on my relationship with some allegedly omnipotent and omniscient being. Good luck to ‘em I guess, but I would remind them to please not go on and on and on about it. It’s boring and it