Equality may perhaps be a right, but no power on earth can ever turn it into a fact.

It's raining again. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. October 2011.

Yes, we know that that Internet is a wonderful place filled with all the rich and varied treasures that the world holds (as well a videos of fellows and horses in uncomfortable poses). The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last few week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning...

The ever-reliable Ben Goldacre explains why so much of what is reported in the mainstream media on "science" is rubbish...

A website full of pictures of women looking dissatisfied in bed...

A listening party from NPR with three members of Wilco to discuss their (magnificent) new album...

A fantastic article on my favourite vegetable from the Smithsonian magazine, How the Potato Changed the World...

Four charts that explain what Wall Street protesters are angry about...

A great interview from The Guardian with Jarvis Cocker about the state of music today. I agree with his comment, "Music's changed in that way. People still listen to it, but it's not as central, it's more like a scented candle. It sets the mood."

‎"...The largest scientific research study of its kind, analysing the relationship between multiple categories of childhood trauma (ACEs), and health and behavioral outcomes later in life”.

Comments

Vince said…

Nice one Krispy.

The line from the Pulp guy is a pretty good one actually. I probably agree too.

Not quite totally related, but anyway: friends have asked me to sing at the wedding on a beach in the New Year. The bride-to-be loves the song "The Blower's Daughter" and I will be singing that as she walks down the "aisle-beach". It's a classic example of how music sets the mood (and the lyrics become not as important)

24 October 2011 at 19:11

Kris McCracken said…

Vince! Good to hear from you. I agree with you and Jarvis.

You might have to amend that last line though...

1 November 2011 at 14:23

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

This will hurt me...

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