To care only for well-being seems to me positively ill-bred. Whether it's good or bad, it is sometimes very pleasant, too, to smash things.

In the jungle, it is rumoured that the Phantom has the strength of ten tigers.

Of course, he is thus apprehensive when he spots eleven tigers coming towards him.

Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them. With Major Major it had been all three.

Nothing says "Waterfront Celebration" like large shipping containers! Apparently the annual Taste Festival is upon us again, with the kind of provincial pretension that we all know and loathe love.

There is a whole bunch of these containers littered around Hobart at the moment. This one here can be spotted on Hobart's Domain, on the way out towards the Tasman Bridge.

The only function of economic forecasting is to make astrology look respectable.

A family portrait!

(I'm the one on the right...)

Perhaps she wasn't even pretty, but she had the glow that makes men follow a woman in the hope of reflecting a little of it.

Stuck at work on my day off and I want someone, anyone - perhaps even this surf rescue boat from Kingston Beach - to come an rescue me!

The future will soon be a thing of the past.

They've done it!

They've finally locked him up!

The State has decided that Ezra is too cute to be walking the streets and have put him behind bars.

Really though, can you blame them? Check out those eyelashes for starters. They're enough to make a Hollywood starlet weep...

Misfortune shows those who are not really friends.

No sign of Charlie Brown anywhere near this poor, lonely kite trapped in the power lines down by the Cenotaph here in Hobart. It strikes me as a most apt image for this weeks Theme Thursday.

You see, I have been informed that this week's Theme Thursday has been cancelled! Yes, cancelled!

Apparently there is some odd little holiday called Thanksgiving. I can see why the fellows in the funny hats would want to say thank you for a delicious meal of turkey and yams! As to the question of whether the inhabitants of the New World - be it the Americas or Australasia - would want to thank Europeans for the changes they wrought, I am less certain.

In the absence of a theme, I am like the kite pictured above: dangling and without purpose...

If it's a good idea, go ahead and do it. It is much easier to apologize than it is to get permission.

What could possibly say "November" more than "Christmas"?

Yes, the Hobart Christmas parade has come and gone, and we haven't even broken out the advent calendars!

Here you can see a forlorn Henry lamenting the departure of SatanSanta Clawsus and his traditional Christmas Goths on the corner of Campbell and Collins Street.

If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it.

Presenting the latest in Tasmanian technical innovation:

Tasmanian anti-pirate suicide ducks.

In a variation of the disgraceful cultured French practice of Foie gras, the ducks are force-fed nitroglycerine, and then trained to zero in upon - kamikaze style - all vessels bearing the jolly roger.

The testing process has seen some success, with the occasional accident involving children's birthday parties...

Aristotle taught that the brain exists merely to cool the blood and is not involved in the process of thinking. This is true only of certain persons.

Ladies, ladies ladies...

Form an orderly queue please, there is enough man meat here for everybody!

He was a self-made man who owed his lack of success to nobody.

Phallogocentrism is alive and well in North Hobart!

One thing that strikes me about this town, is the abundance of large chimneys built in bygone eras. At some point I will collate them all and release a book!

Yeah, that's what I'll do, release a book entitled Hobart: the home of the Victorian phallus!

Any man more right than his neighbours constitutes a majority of one.

Here is the terrible twosome snapped by Jen just prior to their haircuts a couple of weeks ago. By all accounts, both boys were impeccably behaved, and came back a little less hirsute, if some-way short of the United States Marine Corps.

History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

Things are looking up at Seven Mile Beach! This - and remember that I am not an arborist - is some kind of gum tree that was chock full of magpies.

I like it.

Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.

If is is true that a picture speaks a thousand words, what is this picture saying?

Censorship reflects a society's lack of confidence in itself.

Blue sky. Blue-green water. Healthy seaweed. It can only be Seven Mile Beach in Spring.

Of course, this isn't today. Today it's grey and raining. This is a weekday a couple of weeks' back.

Time for the Sunday Top Five!

In the wake of top international statesman imbicile Hugo 'Boca Grande' Chavez's recent attempt to rehabilitate misunderstood altruists Robert Mugabe, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, and the dearly departed Idi Amin, I nominate five others that the Latin American strongman moron might turn to next:

5) Yoko Ono: "The fascist, imperialist and capitalistic dogs of the West could not stand an invader from the East..."

4) Pol Pot: "Pol suffered for being little more than a cheeky chappy with a big dream from a developing country..."

3) Gary Glitter: "The Fascist, imperialist, immoral Western pigs hate Gary because of his close links with the Third World..."

2) Adolf Hitler: a challenge, I know. How about "a great patriot who only wanted the best for his people but was stifled by the imperialist U.S. pigs..."? This will take something special.

1) George W. Bush: Nah. This is a bridge too far for even dear Hugo...