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Showing posts from November 2, 2008

Klug zu reden ist doch schwer, klug zu schweigen noch viel mehr

Top on the right, that's my office window. I've featured the view from there before, and I even shared the story of the time that they painted it shut . However, this is the first time that I've featured the view from the other side, so feel yourself privileged! I have a quiz question and a question question today. First the quiz question: Find the commonality: one television; one VCR; one digital set top box; three pairs of sunglasses; one pair of eyeglasses; one Personal Computer. First one to get that one wins a pat on the back. Now to the question question. Jen and I have been arguing about a matter of some import for the last few days, and I thought that I'd throw in out to the mob to resolve. It concerns a well known ditty about a certain spider who climbs up a water spout, some rain, a fall, and then a totally unsatisfactory denouement from the spider's point of view. The question though concerns this spider's name. We are both very certain that we a

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

It requires no profound insight to see that many people exhibit a tendency that confuses (or conflates) the concepts of morality and faith. Obviously, as a dude who is candid and impenitent about his atheistic outlook on life – yet still endeavours to conduct himself in a professional and (more importantly) ethical manner – it seems rather obvious to me that one does not need religious faith to lead a righteous and healthy life. Similarly, simply assuming religious faith on its own does in no way mean that someone is ethically sound (in fact, it often means quite the opposite). That said – and I’ll be frank with you (and howya goin’ Frank?) – I am aware that I can be a cold and callous bastard and have high demands on people, I know that. Sometimes it takes a nice bit of graffiti to soften my marble-like disposition . So, after seeing this amiable request (and I read it as a request) neatly drawn on the entrance to the ALP HQ on my way to work this morning, I vowed to try a

My week

How has your week been?

Ads That I Like: #65

Let me come right in off the bat and assert that some of the facial work, mannerisms and all round acting abilities in this vintage advertisement for a tasty stool softener are quite simply a sight to behold. Check out the misery evident on the little girl's face! Look at that quizzical concern (with a very subtle bit of index finger work) by mom [sic]! The magnificent matronly poses by the pushy laxative snake oil saleslady concerned neighbour. Get me Bette Davis as “Mom”, Shirley Temple as “Cherub” and Joan Crawford as “concerned neighbour” and I’ll get you twelve Oscars! Green Light! On another note, the tagline to this, and all such ads really should be: Motherly Guilt: selling crap to people for over ONE HUNDRED YEARS!

Elderly live in fear!!!

I have endeavoured to warn the world of the threat posed by rampaging wallabies previously on this blog , but did people listen? Of course they didn't! Some people seem to think that just because they're little, furry, cuddly and herbivores, wallabies are not brutal, godless killing machines . Thank the lord for the good folk in the proud state of Queensland (for our American friends, think Texas, only with cane toads, corruption and slow talking). One of the world's most respected newspapers, The Townsville Bulletin , has lifted the lid on the murky morass that is the moral quagmire of the elderly/marsupial relationship in the Smart State in the year 2008. As the bold graphic in the Bulletin piece says, these cold blooded killers are stalking seniors ! Consider these terrifying facts people: Faeces left on patios, with residents opening their back doors and stepping in it ! A vision impaired old dear was innocently hanging clothes on the washing line, only to disc

Ninety percent of the politicians give the other ten percent a bad name.

So I hear around the traps that there has been an election of some kind, somewhere, featuring some voting, some parties and some dudes. Great to hear. On that note, I wish Helen Clark and company the best, and support New Zealanders in whatever they decide, it's an important time for that great country. What better way to kick back after a hard few weeks on the huskings than stripping down to the undies, hopping on the banana lounge with a fine malt whiskey in one hand, and a Paddle Pop in the other? I'm not sure about the Paddle Pop actually, but Lark Distillery , pictured above, is a great place for whiskey. So come on, what are you waiting for? Cast your vote, hop on the plane, loosen the strides and I'll bring the Paddle Pops!

Be lookin' good, Warriors. All the way back to Coney. Ya hear me, babies? Good. Re-e-al good. Adios.

A nice, not too obscure (but not too easy) pop culture reference in the title there to get you thinking, coupled with a relaxing little picture of the Derwent River on a fairly typical spring morning. On Monday I offered the number crunch that emerged from the question posed back in September about sexy accents and the collective linguistic skills of the readers of this blog. Today, I have tallied up the responses to the second 'question of the day', which asked: If you were starting up a gang of your own, what would you call yourselves? Obviously I'm just going to list the responses here, but I thought that in order to make it interesting, I'd get you all to have a little vote on what gang name takes you fancy. So, in alphabetical order, to the entrants! Galloping Grannies Johnny & the Cowboys Kris Krackers The Bad-assed Moms from Hell! The Bundy Bints The Esteemed Colleagues The Fucken A's The Main Street Smells Despite my nomination appearing on the list

I would rather be a poor man in a garret with plenty of books than a king who did not love reading.

Taken the same day as Henry's masterful performance of Franz Liszt Années de Pèlerinage Paired with the photograph, I have a poem by my good friend, e.e. cummings. if i love You if i love You (thickness means worlds inhabited by roamingly stern bright faeries if you love me) distance is mind carefully luminous with innumerable gnomes Of complete dream if we love each (shyly) other, what clouds do or Silently Flowers resembles beauty less than our breathing

The language of friendship is not words but meanings.

Here is a photo of a sunrise behind a few yachts safely moored in the harbour. A pleasant, serene image to start the week. Some time ago (September 22, to be exact), I launched an all new whizz bang revolutionary new globally interactive Blog-cept: question of the day . I promised to reflect on the results, so here I go. The first topic involved accents. As I said way back then , I know what I like and dislike in accents, but had little idea how people in other parts of the world gauge different accents. So I devised three questions. That sought to explore the concept in greater depth. The questions were: What is your primary language, and do you have a regional accent? Do you speak any other languages? [Most importantly] What do you think is the sexiest accent or language to your ear? Rather than whip up some spreadsheets, bar charts and pie graphs (umm, pie), I thought that's I'd indulge in a little blue sky thinking and mediate on the responses. Things that I learned inclu

The end of a marriage...

I couldn't resist. Another pearler from the crew at Married to the Sea , the champagne of comics .

* Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you.

Here is a column on the building that houses Hobart's Carnegie Gallery (yes, that Carnegie , who had so much money that he even lobbed some money around these parts). It's an odd kind of building, the website says that it was put together by some Hobartians, but that it is of " classical design ". Now I know enough of architecture to pick the knock-off Ionic column here, but forgive me for being a little sceptical as to the use of red brick in ancient Greece. I actually think that this is more evocative of a Maori totem pole than it is anything Pericles might have peed upon after a night out on the turps. Maybe it's just me, but I reckon the little flourish at the top hints at the angry eyes of a proud, recently departed chiefton What do you reckon? Am I seeing things?