This will hurt me...

Occasionally my life is a little like the television show Friends, only a hell of a lot funnier, and without the annoying laugh track and even more annoying friends. So today, Henry and I accompanied Jenry into town while she did a little shopping for supplies at Spotlight. Henry directed me to a few local landmarks to photograph (some of which I will feature on this very blog), and then we met up and stopped into the local Hudsons Coffee Shop for a sit down and some scripted banter. In the photograph, you can see that Henry has forgone his usual triple shot macchiato for an apple juice, and Jenry went with the medium hot chocolate sans marshmallows. Predictably, I played it safe with a cappuccino. [UPDATE: Sorry dear, you've been bumped. The world wanted more Henry.]

The seemed to be a fair bit of rain last night and this morning, but it appeared to clear in time for my walk to the bus stop, and then from the other bus stop into work. Naturally, the wet weather did nothing to persuade the many fools in high performance motor vehicles who (in an endeavour to demonstrate their own joie de vivre ) routinely accelerate to preposterous degrees in the attempt to claim victory in that oh-so-meaningful feat of reaching the next red light first! Might I add that, despite the impression one would get from the esteemed Tasmanian press, the aforementioned hoons are not always young men draped in gold jewellery and featuring ghastly haircuts. Just as often one can spot the middle aged female – similarly draped in gold jewellery and with ghastly haircut – looking to drop young Cassandra off at the elite ladies college up the road ("ten thousand dollars a year, but worth every cent!") Then, she will proceed to a big grey building where she, and many li

I am not sure the extent to which the world has been exposed to current art versus child porn debate that has been raging all week in Australia. I have been mulling over whether to post some thoughts on the current debate over the exhibition of Australian photographer Bill Henson . The Prime Minister has had his say , as had the art crowd . As is always so very useful, they appear to have set their tents in polar opposition to each other. I have not commented mainly because I have not really had the time to devote to expressing myself with the clarity that I would like. As might be expected, venturing into the mine field that is a discussion that pits the notions of ‘artistic merit’ and ‘contextuality’ versus ‘the rights of the child’ and the legislative and judicial protection of minors is not one that I want to go in half arsed (not that this has stopped many commentators!) Moreover, my footing is not too sure when I venture into the legal notions that appear to underwrite the shu

I don't care what anyone says, I think that this photo is lovely. I am posting it as a companion piece to the sunrise I posted the other day. Only this time, I am going to call this a ‘moonset’. It is my firm belief that the moon gets a raw deal from people. The moon is also closely linked to two of my favourite things. First, many cultures link the monthly cycle of the moon – in contrast to the annual cycle of the sun – to women's menstrual cycles. That’s got to help explain why so many of the mythological lunar deities are ladies. Think Selene , Phoebe , Artemis and Diana . Second, the words 'lunacy", ‘lunatic’, and ‘loony’ are derived from lunar because of the folk belief in the moon as a cause of periodic insanity. Think about werewolves assumed their shape shifting abilities because of appearence of the full moon. So the next time that you find yourself accusing your wife of reacting like a rabid werewolf or crazy loon at ‘that time of the month’, you may well

I have finally managed to complete and send this damnable report off to a faceless (soulless?) bureaucrat residing in a big grey building somewhere. Whether they choose to read it or not is no longer any of my concern. However, moments after sending it I did give pause to thought: is thirteen appendices bad luck?

Some terrific light this morning. And of course I am back down at Franklin Wharf, this time though, I have got my back to the water. Here you can see the original Marine Board building, and its more (in)famous replacement. The original has the appearance of almost glowing, due to the sunrise reflecting off the river. It gave everything a nice yellow hue. Personally, I don't think that the newer building itself is as bad as people say, it is more the fact that in 1972 they decided to build a 'modern' gigantic brown structure in such a prime waterfront spot. It might not be big by New York standards, but as the fourth tallest in the city, it is huge for Hobart. Of course, the fact that such an unexceptional looking building happens to block such a magnificent view is bound to annoy somebody!

As an unapologetic man of science, I am (of course), an enthusiast of immunisation. Whatever the standpoint that I try to attack it from – historian, scientist, logician, economist, philosopher, parent or just plain old gambler working the odds off the pure metrics that we have – I can come to no other conclusion that immunisation has been a boon to human society. As it is my blog, I can assert this with total and utter unyielding authority. In this manner then, I always find that the best World Health Organisation campaigns are those that are blunt and to the point. Thus, I really, really like this immunisation campaign poster from 1975. I apologise for the poor quality of the image, but the pictures should be clear. Here we see two new mothers, one trusts the health worker and chooses to immunise her child. The second is not so sure and chooses to not do so. Of course, baby number one now has a glowing protective halo, and baby number two does not. When disease strikes (as it inevit

This picture was taken last week, but I have decided to use it today. You see these guys down on the waterfront every Wednesday, and they always seem to have plenty of takers for their cruises. It would no doubt be very pleasant, as the Derwent is reasonably flat right all the way down south (until you get out into the ocean, that is. Then it gets hairy!) Contrast this with the number of attempts to set up a catamaran service that could cope with the Bass Strait crossing, from George Town to Melbourne. These Tasmanian-made vessels do very well in around the globe (in the Mediterranean, Baltic, Caribbean, the eastern seaboard of North America, Japan, the Middle East, they even supply the US Navy). While the ‘Devil Cat’ was an extraordinarily cool-looking vessel without doubt, it unfortunately did not seem to cope well with Bass Strait’s unique tendency to big swells, especially in winter. My father worked on this run for a short while, and tells wonderful stories of seamen endlessly

Over the past few years I have heard a reasonably famous quote from a controversial character being bandied around by people as an example of political nonsense. Without wanting to get drawn into the relative merit (or otherwise) of one Donald Rumsfeld, I cannot help but feel that he gets a raw deal on this score. You see, I have never really understood why people think it is nonsense. I am not sure whether my brain is hardwired to think in a convoluted and ambiguous way (it could be true, I have been accused of this, and I have also spent time locked in rooms with French post-modern feminist thinkers), but from the moment that I heard it, I couldn't see the fuss made about the quote. it seemed to make perfect sense to me right off the bat. Let's go over the quote again before I move on: ...there are known "knowns". There are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say there are things that we now know we don't know. But there are also un

I have been treated to an impressive series of sunrises over the past week or so. I think that this was the pick of the bunch that I took this morning, but I don't really have a lot of time to try and get the best shot. On other matters, Henry did a little feature piece for the local news this morning. Jen tells me that it went well, and I will endeavour to post the details as they come to hand.

The descriptions in today’s ad are top notch. Only the best adman in the business could get some of this stuff across the line. As a lifelong non-smoker, for the most part the images promoted here are the antithesis of smoking in my mind. Read the descriptions to yourself, and even better, read them in a husky, feminine voice. Go on, you know that you like doing that: the 'coolness ' the ' true mildness ' the ' ripe, delicate taste and fragrance of smoking pleasure at its best '. Oops , excuse me; I think I've just climaxed... Right, where were we? Yeah, the whole thing screams what French literary ( wankery ) types call jouissance . Looking back at some of these ads, I can actually get some sort of sense of how something as unappealing (on so many levels) as smoking cigarettes managed to become so popular. If it weren’t quite so tragic, it rightly could be recognised of one of human history’s greatest achievements! I also like the notion of 'more sm

Geilston Bay. Saturday, May 24, 2008. 7:36 AM. The fog was upon us. We later headed down to the market to get out of the house and pick up some bits 'n pieces. But enough of that, it is now time for the question of the day ! Is it normal for a toddler to eat a kilogram of strawberries in 24 hours?

Look at picture: Gambian President Yahya Jammeh. He says he hates gay people and wants to chop all of their heads off . Hmmmmm. Let me look at that photo again: Yeah, the thing is you see, you're still not convincing me...

Kingston, Jamaica. Australia looked in the box seat but have had a little collapse late on to be four wickets down for just 17 runs. They still lead by 136 runs, but the four guys out are all batsmen, including Hussey and Ponting. Now, I'm not one of these guys who has jumped on the "I hate Australia because they are so arrogant" bandwagon. However, I want the Windies to win. I have decided to run through today's team to try and figure out what the reason may be. Jaques: Can't even spell his own name correctly. New South Welshman, which means he has had a 'smooth selection' into test cricket. Looks unfit, and he's a rubbish fielder. Let's just say I haven't warmed to him... Katich: How many chances does one bloke get? And isn't it funny that it has taken a move to New South Wales to get all of these chances? Ponting: He is originally from Tassie, but has lived in New South Wales for years now. Consider that a black mark against his name. Hu