He who has no wish to be happier is the happiest of men.

Dead penguin. Marion Bay, Tasmania's East Coast. April 2013.

Sunday Stealing: The 5000 Question Meme Continues... Part Six

121. Have you ever lost someone without having the chance to say goodbye?
Yes. To be honest, sometimes having the chance to say goodbye is harder.

122. How do you feel about women in politics?
It depends on the woman, doesn't it. There are good ones and bad ones, much like people with a penis.

123. Would you rather have an indoor Jacuzzi or an outdoor pool?
An outdoor pool. Hopefully with a sauna by the side.

124. What things are you interested in that you study or read about regularly?
Lots of things! History, people, society, geography, nature. Just a few little things.

125. Would you consider yourself to be intelligent?
Well... modesty forbids... [ahem]...

OF COURSE I DO!

126. Would you consider yourself to be wise?
Less wise than intelligent, perhaps.

127. Have you ever given or received a lap dance?
In a commercial sense? The concept repulses me, to be honest. Between friends? Whatever gets you through the night.

128. Have you ever spoken to a homeless person?
Lots of them. Come on, I worked in a needle exchange for years, currently work in mental health and have done far to many research projects with the socially excluded to count. Yes, I've spoken to one or two homeless people.

129. Would you ever creep into the subway tunnels to go exploring?
If my safety was assured.

130. If you could add 70 years to your life but only by making some random person die 70 years sooner would you?
Who wants 70 extra years? Your body would be broken down of no use to anyone!

Comments

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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