This will hurt me...

I have found the ideal photograph for the inside fold of the debut LP that I have blogged on previously . Yeah, another shot straight into the sun, but I generally only do it at either ends of the day. The thing that I like most about it is that you can make out only a select few shapes and movement from this vantage point. Thus, you are left pretty much unaware of exactly who or what it is that is coming straight at you. This lack of knowledge would terrify some, but the fact that it is the sunshine and not the moon has a calming effect on me. The explanation is juvenile, as when this happens I generally imagine that it will resemble something out of an ad for Coca Cola from the early 1980s. Thus, in my head it is less likely to be a serial killer, and more likely a curvy brunette wearing a bikini. Dripping wet. And smiling. And thirsty. Good times.

I must admit to not being a huge fan of the whole LOLcat phenomenon . The pedant in me has a tendency to get frustrated with the (deliberate, I hope) poor spelling and grammar. Of course, I have little time for textspeak or leetspeak or any such nonsense. Yes, I do understand that it is simply a new way of interacting and a genuine 'voice' of a subculture, I just happen to think that it is stupid, and makes the people who use it look stupid. Hence the LOLHenry that I created the other day, and have posted today. Aside from an inevitable dumbing down of the language (and the standard mode of communication itself), I resent that most LOLCats make felines look like a bunch of ignorant morons. As a unabashed fan of the feline (and apologies to any relatives of Phil Jaques reading this), I feel that the sort of simplistic, inane and poorly constructed nonsense most LOLCat discourse resembles is far more suited to dogs. The canine is infinitely more likely to speak in such a crude...

Today, despite the snow on the mountain and general brisk temperatures, I had spent a lovely lunch sitting in the park appreciating the sun and agreeable vista. Of course, such serenity inevitably prompts on to reflect upon weighty subjects such as one’s life and general purpose. I read an article the other day on the notion of parenthood and happiness . The general thrust was obvious to me (that having children in-and-of-itself will not make someone happy), but clearly a disappointment to many others. I will be honest with you and share the fact that prior to young Henry’s appearance on this planet, I was somewhat ambivalent to the idea of having children. I had no set against it, mind you; but nor did I have any drive to become a father. Of course, now that he is here I would not have it any other way, and today I had cause to contemplate another unforeseen bonus of the little bloke. On occasion (from even early on in my life), I would stop and ask myself “have you in any way today m...

In the world of art, there is a concept known as “so bad that it is good”. Some examples include Ed Wood’s Plan Nine From Outer Space ; Swayze’s Road House ; Schwarzenegger's Commando ; the occasional entrant in The Eurovision Song Contest ; McGonagall’s The Tay Bridge Disaster . I will be honest with you and say that don’t feel that any of today’s logos qualify. In fact, I feel that more likely they belong in the far broader category of “so bad that it is horrible” class. So, lest my rambling on gets in the way of my rambling on, I offer to you this week’s category! EPISODE THREE: DUD LOGOS These two featured just two weeks ago, but I really could not pass them over. If we are talking bad art, it just isn't possible to overlook the Hamilton Tigers 1921 effort that fused the tiger and the Elephant Man (on the left). Rendering what is arguably the most majestic and fine-looking creature in the world as a malformed and miserable mutant takes some beating, and ...

No, we’re not talking witches today; we’re talking about one of the prime industries that Tasmania (or Van Diemen’s Land , as it was then) has ever seen, albeit fleetingly. The years 1836 to 1841 marked the peak of the Tasmanian whaling industry , in 1836 there were nine stations in and about Hobart. By 1841, thirty-five bay whaling stations in Tasmania were manned by more than 1000 men, but by then they had managed to kill the goose that lay the golden eggs. I have always found the rise and fall of the Tasmanian whaling industry a really useful example of what Stephen Lukes calls ‘ the Tragedy of the Commons ’. Putting on the political science hat for a moment, the tragedy of the commons is best understood as a kind of social trap that involves a conflict over finite resources between individual interests and the common good. Hardin concluded that free and unregulated access and unrestricted demand for a finite resource ultimately - through its very structure - dooms the resource thro...

I made it myself. You can make one too. Just go to this website . [Polite nod to the gang at Mental Floss .]

This isn’t my photograph (I wish). It’s NASAs. Seriously, you need to check the link for a set of mind-blowing images of the Earth that they’ve taken over the years. You’ll wet your pants.