It started as a sneaking suspicion. Then the floodgates opened and it turned into a fully fledged bird - I mean hypothesis. The hypothesis is based on a metal solid foundation of reasonable premises and valid deductions.
1. Many people tuck in their shirt (or analogous upper body garment).
2. The majority of these people strive to maintain the tuck for as long as the shirt is worn.
3. When faced with activities that lead to untucking there are two choices: a) do the activity and then re-tuck (e.g. reaching up to the top shelf to grab something), or b) avoid the activity altogether (e.g. vigorous exercise).
4. Sitting and standing upright - in other words good posture - can often lead to untucking.
5. Good posture is therefore to be avoided. This needn't be a conscious decision, perhaps just a subtle shifting of the body's movement preferences towards stable, reassuring tuck maintenance.
Note that a premise for many is that good posture is to be maintained for as long as - nay longer than - any shirt is worn. This conflict could be tearing our backs, and society apart.
Now, I'm not the kind of person to come to you with a problem and not a solution. I propose longer and hence more untuck-resistant shirts in the short term (although this doesn't address the related issue of shirt overhang at the waist area), and greater societal tolerance of no-tucks in the long term.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Lucky Miles meets Stranger Than Fiction and something else
Lucky Miles is a damn good movie. It tells the story of a bunch of asylum people / boat seekers who arrive somewhere between Broome and Perth in the early 70s. There's a Basrati (seems like the logical name for someone from Basra), a Phnom Penhian and an Indonesian joins them later.
It says a lot about refugees, the mindset of Australians and the unmildness of the Australian outback. It manages to do all this in a very laid back, unassuming way. It may not be a triumph of filmmaking or acting, but it's a great story with important ideas and I enjoyed it. So did my wife, who for some reason thought one of the reservist army types (who were looking for them) was hot. Out of 5, I give it 5. Out of 10, I give it 5.
Stranger Than Fiction is Will Ferrell being a guy who starts hearing the voice of an author writing a story about him. She basically narrates his life, which is irritating and then consternating when she says "Little did he know, he was about to die". It's all rather circular, with the author living in the same city. File this under - post-modern humour, Being John Malkovich wanna-be.
I enjoyed it, but I pretty much hated every character except Ferrell. Emma Thompson was irritating, her assistant was pointless and Maggie Gyllenhaal was excruciatingly unbelievable and lame. I confess, after I saw Secretary I had a bit of a thing for her, but she's really doing her best to push me away with this role. Dustin Hoffman was reliable as ever as a literature professor helping Ferrell out.
I'd give it about a 7 out of 10. Just shows how far you can take a movie with a good idea and a great lead (Will Ferrell, is there anything you can't do?).
Remind me to talk about Big Love and The Circuit. Two high quality dramas ( I hate that word as a TV show descriptive) screening back to back on SBS on Sunday nights.
It says a lot about refugees, the mindset of Australians and the unmildness of the Australian outback. It manages to do all this in a very laid back, unassuming way. It may not be a triumph of filmmaking or acting, but it's a great story with important ideas and I enjoyed it. So did my wife, who for some reason thought one of the reservist army types (who were looking for them) was hot. Out of 5, I give it 5. Out of 10, I give it 5.
Stranger Than Fiction is Will Ferrell being a guy who starts hearing the voice of an author writing a story about him. She basically narrates his life, which is irritating and then consternating when she says "Little did he know, he was about to die". It's all rather circular, with the author living in the same city. File this under - post-modern humour, Being John Malkovich wanna-be.
I enjoyed it, but I pretty much hated every character except Ferrell. Emma Thompson was irritating, her assistant was pointless and Maggie Gyllenhaal was excruciatingly unbelievable and lame. I confess, after I saw Secretary I had a bit of a thing for her, but she's really doing her best to push me away with this role. Dustin Hoffman was reliable as ever as a literature professor helping Ferrell out.
I'd give it about a 7 out of 10. Just shows how far you can take a movie with a good idea and a great lead (Will Ferrell, is there anything you can't do?).
Remind me to talk about Big Love and The Circuit. Two high quality dramas ( I hate that word as a TV show descriptive) screening back to back on SBS on Sunday nights.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
On Vinegar
Vinegar, I’ve loved you since
I was a carefree lad
I’m older and now understand
this was no boyhood fad
I know not how it started and
I’ll guess not how it ends
But on this fine libation
my joie de vivre depends
Oh vinegar, I’ll count the ways
You satisfy my palate
If only come election time
‘twere you upon the ballot
On potatoes
Baked or fried, steamed or broiled or crucified
Don’t forget potato chips
That sweetly sting the tongue and lips
(For burn & taste the best is Ruffles
In crisps world, they’re the truffles)
Be it from rock, a lab or the sea
Salt goes with vinegar like it goes with me
Mix it with chilli, apply it to Jiaozi
Or repeat step one and add it to Baozi
Use it to rug up naked salads
Or use it as fodder for catchy ballads
I hear the sour siren call,
but ‘fore I exit these four walls
It would be remiss of me
Not to add one think
Vinegar is unappreciated as a drink
Take this shining potable
And cram it down your gullet
Drink it, quaff it, swig it, sip it
Failing that just scull it
If you love vinegar
Then you’ll know this
like you know your name
Yet many haven’t done it yet
‘Tis such a weeping shame
I was a carefree lad
I’m older and now understand
this was no boyhood fad
I know not how it started and
I’ll guess not how it ends
But on this fine libation
my joie de vivre depends
Oh vinegar, I’ll count the ways
You satisfy my palate
If only come election time
‘twere you upon the ballot
On potatoes
Baked or fried, steamed or broiled or crucified
Don’t forget potato chips
That sweetly sting the tongue and lips
(For burn & taste the best is Ruffles
In crisps world, they’re the truffles)
Be it from rock, a lab or the sea
Salt goes with vinegar like it goes with me
Mix it with chilli, apply it to Jiaozi
Or repeat step one and add it to Baozi
Use it to rug up naked salads
Or use it as fodder for catchy ballads
I hear the sour siren call,
but ‘fore I exit these four walls
It would be remiss of me
Not to add one think
Vinegar is unappreciated as a drink
Take this shining potable
And cram it down your gullet
Drink it, quaff it, swig it, sip it
Failing that just scull it
If you love vinegar
Then you’ll know this
like you know your name
Yet many haven’t done it yet
‘Tis such a weeping shame
Sorry
I love the function and form found in nature. Life is just so damned incredible, and we are inescapably [Indian accent] part of it all.
I was walking down my life last night, when I got to a fork in the road. You know, I’ve had that memory – of a fork in the road – e’er since I can remember.
It’s like starting to like a food that you hated as a child.
The firm texture of the snails.
You know? I have to say that the pie…This was definitely a first for me.
It’s always a chore on these.
If it’s difficult, use your hands to put in place.
It’s not overly dependent on the saurce. That’s where your professional skills come out.
I heard you say that a minute ago… but I can’t go back and redo this.
I’m the opposite. For me is just great.
Eye-popping escargot and frog leg stew with butter rice.
Sore wa. Sozo I joi. Ho ki chin.
Toe to toe with escargot. Whose cuisine reigns supreme? Beating the one time most creative chef in France 1995.
There’s something about the iron chef that really kicks ass. And the U.S. one, based singly on the single episode I’ve seen, is a pale, wan comparison. I rate the japanese as very fine conversationalists. They really have a way with ideas.
Y’see, as far as I see it, it’s all about… Dammit, I forgot what it was all about.
The thing about the singers is that they’re not often hitting the right notes. I found that foul fully f*ck.
Here’s the other thing that’s hardly recognised. Nonsense saves lives, from being lives.
I once fertilised - I mean put fertiliser on mine own egg. The bearers of scent drew sweetly past my door, flipping fragrant wafts like freshly baked croissants over their shoulders and into the doorways of the city’s finest women and men.
I want to start a business that will be contribute overwhelmingly to the economy and to the strengthening of Australia’s strategic base, especially in my core capabilities.
I was walking down my life last night, when I got to a fork in the road. You know, I’ve had that memory – of a fork in the road – e’er since I can remember.
It’s like starting to like a food that you hated as a child.
The firm texture of the snails.
You know? I have to say that the pie…This was definitely a first for me.
It’s always a chore on these.
If it’s difficult, use your hands to put in place.
It’s not overly dependent on the saurce. That’s where your professional skills come out.
I heard you say that a minute ago… but I can’t go back and redo this.
I’m the opposite. For me is just great.
Eye-popping escargot and frog leg stew with butter rice.
Sore wa. Sozo I joi. Ho ki chin.
Toe to toe with escargot. Whose cuisine reigns supreme? Beating the one time most creative chef in France 1995.
There’s something about the iron chef that really kicks ass. And the U.S. one, based singly on the single episode I’ve seen, is a pale, wan comparison. I rate the japanese as very fine conversationalists. They really have a way with ideas.
Y’see, as far as I see it, it’s all about… Dammit, I forgot what it was all about.
The thing about the singers is that they’re not often hitting the right notes. I found that foul fully f*ck.
Here’s the other thing that’s hardly recognised. Nonsense saves lives, from being lives.
I once fertilised - I mean put fertiliser on mine own egg. The bearers of scent drew sweetly past my door, flipping fragrant wafts like freshly baked croissants over their shoulders and into the doorways of the city’s finest women and men.
I want to start a business that will be contribute overwhelmingly to the economy and to the strengthening of Australia’s strategic base, especially in my core capabilities.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Dick Lovitz
Look, I really don't want to detract from the colourful very short story below, but I couldn't stop myself from commenting about the Dick - Lovitz run-in, also known as the War of the Clowns. I'm not proud to admit it, but probably the funniest thing in the story is the 'Phil Hartman hex'.
In other news, if Australia beats Japan at the Asian Football Cup, expect some bloggentary. I'm hoping for some great post-goal celebrations.
In other news, if Australia beats Japan at the Asian Football Cup, expect some bloggentary. I'm hoping for some great post-goal celebrations.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A cautionary tale
A bus. Somewhere in the suburbs.
An elderly man gets on.
He’s older than your average old man, but more sprightly too. The bus is half full. Normally this means that every seat is taken by one person, but there are a few free seats this time. Which makes it more surprising when he sits down next to a teenage boy. The teenager is unimpressed by the old man’s decision and displays his best nonchalant, aloof and cool face. It’s pretty good, too.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” No answer, but the old man goes on.
“I’ve seen my share of nice days – not more or less, mind you, just my fair share. I’m entitled to that aren’t I?”
The teenager could no longer pretend he was unaware of the old man’s existence.
“Who could deny that? Not you, that’s for sure.” The old man chuckled to himself, and he pulled a hamburger out of his jacket pocket. He took a bite into it, and used both hands to offer it to his fellow passenger. The teenager shook his head and politely smiled ‘no’. The old man leant into the burger, inhaled deeply and returned it to his pocket.
“Crikey, that’s a good burger! Better save it for later.”
The poor commuters on the bus involuntarily began salivating, such was the delightful burger scent that wafted through the bus. A middle aged woman sitting at the front of the bus, but facing the back and our protagonists (yes, plural), furrowed her eyebrows.
“Can’t you read the signs? No eating on the bus,” she called out.
The old man reached into his pocket, withdrew the burger, took a long, longing, loving bite and hurled the rest of the burger at the woman. It glanced off her shoulder and landed on the dash in front of the bus driver, amazingly still in one piece (this was probably due to sticky melted cheese). The driver, incensed, pounded his fist on the burger and flattened it.
Amazingly, the bus maintained its steady course along the road. The driver, obviously having second thoughts, picked up the burger, sniffed pensively at it and took a bite. He knew immediately that it was the right decision, and finished the burger in three bites.
Meanwhile, the woman was so outraged that she got off at the next stop, in between brushing her shoulder clean and muttering in the direction of the old man.
“Where you headed, sonny?” The old man was sitting down again. After almost deciding to get the hell out of there, the teenager somehow thought better of it and answered. For better or worse, his guard was now partly down.
“Just heading to work, actually.”
“Oh, gee, that’s a pity, lovely day like this.”
“I know. But you know what, I’m enjoying the ride, I’m enjoying the day so far, and I’ll try to enjoy work as well.”
“With an attitude like that, you’ll go far. Possibly all the way to the top.” The bus let on some more passengers, let off some others. “Where do you work, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I work for a coffee shop.”
“Ah, legal drugs. Nothing like them.”
“That’s right. Our customers are hooked, I tell you what.”
“Has it ever occurred to you the reason why some drugs are welcomed by the powers that be, and others are banished as though they were some kind of bane?”
“I suppose you gotta outlaw the dangerous ones,” said the teenager, without really thinking about the question.
“Hogwash! How many people do alcohol and cigarettes kill? And what about all the others that stay alive and cop the effects? Let me tell you, you make your own decisions about these things, sonny. You like to get high?”
“Umm, not really.” The teenager’s guard was not that far down.
The old man pulled out a massive joint, this time from his boots, and a box of matches. “Here, open the window, would you?”
“It is open.” The man thrust his arm out the window to check, inadvertently slapping the head of a man standing at the bus stop at which the bus was stopped.
“I see. Well, bottoms up.” He lit the joint, and it burned brightly as the old man inhaled deeply. A good 10 seconds later, he began coughing and spluttering, considerately over the aisle rather than the teenager.
“You want a hit?” The teenager was clearly deliberating over whether to take the proverbial red pill when the driver swerved, just missing a pothole. The joint flew out of the old man’s hands and landed squarely between the teenager’s lips. He could resist no more, so inhaled, tentatively at first. It was some fine, fine ganja. Carolina Bluegrass, if he wasn’t mistaken. Well into the moment now, the teenager inhaled deeply, for so long in fact that the joint burnt all the way up to his lips, causing him to cry out in pain, and exhaling smoke all throughout the bus.
“I said a hit, not the whole thing! Geez, whippersnappers these days. Look, you seem like a nice kid. I gotta get off here, but let me give you my number. I’m planning on starting a revolution this afternoon and you can get involved, if you like.”
The teenager was well into his ascent/descent into stonedom, and acquiesced more out of reflex than consideration. They swapped mobile numbers. The teenager gave the old man a fake name. “My name’s Wenslow.” Little did he know that the old man did too. “The name’s McGuire – Pat McGuire. I’ll be seeing you later. The old man removed the emergency red hammer from the bus window and was about to smash a hole in the window, but then thought better of it. He pocketed it instead, wisely realising that it could come in handy for the long journey he had ahead of him this afternoon.
Wenslow (we’ll call him this for now) decided to get off early and walk the rest of the way. The sun felt so gorgeous on his back. He pulled out his walkman and tuned in to the soundtrack to his life that morning. Everything seemed so…nice.
An elderly man gets on.
He’s older than your average old man, but more sprightly too. The bus is half full. Normally this means that every seat is taken by one person, but there are a few free seats this time. Which makes it more surprising when he sits down next to a teenage boy. The teenager is unimpressed by the old man’s decision and displays his best nonchalant, aloof and cool face. It’s pretty good, too.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” No answer, but the old man goes on.
“I’ve seen my share of nice days – not more or less, mind you, just my fair share. I’m entitled to that aren’t I?”
The teenager could no longer pretend he was unaware of the old man’s existence.
“Who could deny that? Not you, that’s for sure.” The old man chuckled to himself, and he pulled a hamburger out of his jacket pocket. He took a bite into it, and used both hands to offer it to his fellow passenger. The teenager shook his head and politely smiled ‘no’. The old man leant into the burger, inhaled deeply and returned it to his pocket.
“Crikey, that’s a good burger! Better save it for later.”
The poor commuters on the bus involuntarily began salivating, such was the delightful burger scent that wafted through the bus. A middle aged woman sitting at the front of the bus, but facing the back and our protagonists (yes, plural), furrowed her eyebrows.
“Can’t you read the signs? No eating on the bus,” she called out.
The old man reached into his pocket, withdrew the burger, took a long, longing, loving bite and hurled the rest of the burger at the woman. It glanced off her shoulder and landed on the dash in front of the bus driver, amazingly still in one piece (this was probably due to sticky melted cheese). The driver, incensed, pounded his fist on the burger and flattened it.
Amazingly, the bus maintained its steady course along the road. The driver, obviously having second thoughts, picked up the burger, sniffed pensively at it and took a bite. He knew immediately that it was the right decision, and finished the burger in three bites.
Meanwhile, the woman was so outraged that she got off at the next stop, in between brushing her shoulder clean and muttering in the direction of the old man.
“Where you headed, sonny?” The old man was sitting down again. After almost deciding to get the hell out of there, the teenager somehow thought better of it and answered. For better or worse, his guard was now partly down.
“Just heading to work, actually.”
“Oh, gee, that’s a pity, lovely day like this.”
“I know. But you know what, I’m enjoying the ride, I’m enjoying the day so far, and I’ll try to enjoy work as well.”
“With an attitude like that, you’ll go far. Possibly all the way to the top.” The bus let on some more passengers, let off some others. “Where do you work, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I work for a coffee shop.”
“Ah, legal drugs. Nothing like them.”
“That’s right. Our customers are hooked, I tell you what.”
“Has it ever occurred to you the reason why some drugs are welcomed by the powers that be, and others are banished as though they were some kind of bane?”
“I suppose you gotta outlaw the dangerous ones,” said the teenager, without really thinking about the question.
“Hogwash! How many people do alcohol and cigarettes kill? And what about all the others that stay alive and cop the effects? Let me tell you, you make your own decisions about these things, sonny. You like to get high?”
“Umm, not really.” The teenager’s guard was not that far down.
The old man pulled out a massive joint, this time from his boots, and a box of matches. “Here, open the window, would you?”
“It is open.” The man thrust his arm out the window to check, inadvertently slapping the head of a man standing at the bus stop at which the bus was stopped.
“I see. Well, bottoms up.” He lit the joint, and it burned brightly as the old man inhaled deeply. A good 10 seconds later, he began coughing and spluttering, considerately over the aisle rather than the teenager.
“You want a hit?” The teenager was clearly deliberating over whether to take the proverbial red pill when the driver swerved, just missing a pothole. The joint flew out of the old man’s hands and landed squarely between the teenager’s lips. He could resist no more, so inhaled, tentatively at first. It was some fine, fine ganja. Carolina Bluegrass, if he wasn’t mistaken. Well into the moment now, the teenager inhaled deeply, for so long in fact that the joint burnt all the way up to his lips, causing him to cry out in pain, and exhaling smoke all throughout the bus.
“I said a hit, not the whole thing! Geez, whippersnappers these days. Look, you seem like a nice kid. I gotta get off here, but let me give you my number. I’m planning on starting a revolution this afternoon and you can get involved, if you like.”
The teenager was well into his ascent/descent into stonedom, and acquiesced more out of reflex than consideration. They swapped mobile numbers. The teenager gave the old man a fake name. “My name’s Wenslow.” Little did he know that the old man did too. “The name’s McGuire – Pat McGuire. I’ll be seeing you later. The old man removed the emergency red hammer from the bus window and was about to smash a hole in the window, but then thought better of it. He pocketed it instead, wisely realising that it could come in handy for the long journey he had ahead of him this afternoon.
Wenslow (we’ll call him this for now) decided to get off early and walk the rest of the way. The sun felt so gorgeous on his back. He pulled out his walkman and tuned in to the soundtrack to his life that morning. Everything seemed so…nice.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Movement at the Artful Science station
There has been a bit of action over at Artful Science. It's now a one stop shop for all the stories that have appeared in the august pages of Cosmos magazine since the birth of Artful Science. You'll also find full length feature stories on anti-global warming technologies, viruses and warzone ecology.
There's a handy search function, and it is indeed disturbing that the most common tag is "Scientists do the darndest things to animals."
Recent topics
- the shape of the internet (Is it an oblate spheroid? A samoan circle? Trapezoid?)
- wireless power transfer
- nano-imaging
Coming soon: volcano research, and a feature on indigenous knowledge and intellectual property.
There's a handy search function, and it is indeed disturbing that the most common tag is "Scientists do the darndest things to animals."
Recent topics
- the shape of the internet (Is it an oblate spheroid? A samoan circle? Trapezoid?)
- wireless power transfer
- nano-imaging
Coming soon: volcano research, and a feature on indigenous knowledge and intellectual property.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Byron Bayou
I'm driving North until I reach Australia's most eastern point: Byron Bayou.
We're all set for the roadtrip:
- alternating iPods
- Salt & Vinegar Ruffles on sale for $1.60 for a 200g bag, a sensational saving
- numerous garments
- sense of adventure and relaxation
- tires inflated, oil checked, inflatable rubber bladder deflated
Can't wait!
We're all set for the roadtrip:
- alternating iPods
- Salt & Vinegar Ruffles on sale for $1.60 for a 200g bag, a sensational saving
- numerous garments
- sense of adventure and relaxation
- tires inflated, oil checked, inflatable rubber bladder deflated
Can't wait!
Monday, June 25, 2007
On the tyranny of Times New Roman
Times. The times they are a'changin’. Well why aren’t the times new roman a changing? F*ck you! I INTEND you.
wanted to die, but I knew that I could, so I waited to come smell silverwood.
Beauty who’s your assface?
When it’s to do. Full of fall your you’ll all fall on your face. Then eat some eggs. Pregnant by now. Poignant
What is with the dominance of Times New Roman font, and size 12 at that? This monopoly sickens me. No matter how pleasant a font is, being repeated ad infinitum must drag it inexorably towards unpleasantness. Wouldn't we all be better off with a variety of fonts? This debate of course is intimately related to the present oligopsony of software. Still, it says something about the chutzpah of TNR that it can be in our face for so long without drawing undue attention to itself.
Does anybody know what Akimbo is?
Fonts I like: the one used by author Douglas Hofstadter. Honourable mention to the one used by author Daniel Dennett.
wanted to die, but I knew that I could, so I waited to come smell silverwood.
Beauty who’s your assface?
When it’s to do. Full of fall your you’ll all fall on your face. Then eat some eggs. Pregnant by now. Poignant
What is with the dominance of Times New Roman font, and size 12 at that? This monopoly sickens me. No matter how pleasant a font is, being repeated ad infinitum must drag it inexorably towards unpleasantness. Wouldn't we all be better off with a variety of fonts? This debate of course is intimately related to the present oligopsony of software. Still, it says something about the chutzpah of TNR that it can be in our face for so long without drawing undue attention to itself.
Does anybody know what Akimbo is?
Fonts I like: the one used by author Douglas Hofstadter. Honourable mention to the one used by author Daniel Dennett.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
The Gentle Art of Impressions
Once again, I take my hat off to Frank Caliendo. He has good variety, and most importantly, he incorporates relevant jokes into his impressions e.g. Al Pacino's habit of turning kid's sayings into cool tough guy talk ('You sir, are a liar. Liar liar, your pants [beat] are on FIRE!').
It's really criminal to go to the trouble of learning the exquisitely fine details of someone's voice, cadence, facial expressions and body language if all you're going to do is repeat some famous catchphrase or line from a movie. You gotta take it to the next level.
When it comes to impression-worthy subjects, there's a predictable few that keep cropping up: Bobert De Niro, Cristobal Walken, Jack Nicholson, Arnold Schwarzenegger (though he doesn't really count). When you think about it, maybe this is the X factor for any aspiring young actor or actrix - acquire a distinctive or odd speech style.
While we're on the topic, we can't forget Hammertime's Brog favourite, New Zealand's own Tony Martin. He's been producing high quality impressions, along with a whole grab bag of champagne comedy, for over a decade now. He manages to do both locally relevant pollies and journos ('Peter Harvey, going down a slide') as well as international celebrities (Patrick Stewart at a McDonald's drive through comes to mind - towards the bottom of the page). He even combined Tony Soprano with Amanda Vanstone ("Amanda Vanstone is not herself", halfway down the page).
~~~
So I heard that Brett Whitely's The Olgas for Ernest Giles sold for $3.48 million the other day. This is considerably more than it cost to paint (to borrow a Micallef joke). Which brings me to my question for the day: surely art buyers should just invest, I don't know, $3.07 million in training themselves, saving a handsome $410,000 in the process, which they could then spend on Frank's Pizza. Alright, so it's not a question.
It's really criminal to go to the trouble of learning the exquisitely fine details of someone's voice, cadence, facial expressions and body language if all you're going to do is repeat some famous catchphrase or line from a movie. You gotta take it to the next level.
When it comes to impression-worthy subjects, there's a predictable few that keep cropping up: Bobert De Niro, Cristobal Walken, Jack Nicholson, Arnold Schwarzenegger (though he doesn't really count). When you think about it, maybe this is the X factor for any aspiring young actor or actrix - acquire a distinctive or odd speech style.
While we're on the topic, we can't forget Hammertime's Brog favourite, New Zealand's own Tony Martin. He's been producing high quality impressions, along with a whole grab bag of champagne comedy, for over a decade now. He manages to do both locally relevant pollies and journos ('Peter Harvey, going down a slide') as well as international celebrities (Patrick Stewart at a McDonald's drive through comes to mind - towards the bottom of the page). He even combined Tony Soprano with Amanda Vanstone ("Amanda Vanstone is not herself", halfway down the page).
~~~
So I heard that Brett Whitely's The Olgas for Ernest Giles sold for $3.48 million the other day. This is considerably more than it cost to paint (to borrow a Micallef joke). Which brings me to my question for the day: surely art buyers should just invest, I don't know, $3.07 million in training themselves, saving a handsome $410,000 in the process, which they could then spend on Frank's Pizza. Alright, so it's not a question.
Monday, June 18, 2007
more YouTube
Funny Al Pacino impression from Frank Caliendo, about the 1:50 mark.
Another Pacino one from Aries Spears, with a few other good ones in there too.
Paula Abdul under the influence of something. I couldn't watch the whole thing.
More Caliendo.
Another Pacino one from Aries Spears, with a few other good ones in there too.
Paula Abdul under the influence of something. I couldn't watch the whole thing.
More Caliendo.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
State of Origin
Well, Qld have won for the second year in a row. Herein the recriminations.
Neither team played particularly well. Both sides defended pretty darn well. Qld showed more attacking flair. Kimmorley played well, but didn't actually do anything. In fact, NSW showed very few interesting attacking plays.
Qld, well, they did enough. It's not often that you can say that about a SOO victory, but there we are. Perhaps this same NSW team will gel after a few games, but you don't get that luxury in Origin football.
Odd comments:
NSW didn't fold as usual in the second half. They still lost, but they're making progress.
Please, spare me the interview with the family of the debutant.
"So, Mr Stewart, are you proud of your son?"
"In fact I am. Why do you ask?
"Because TV tradition demands I do."
"Eff off"
(that would have been the appropriate response)
Allow me to comment on the lame Pepsi Max ad. OK, so two guys are picked up by Eva Longoria from Desperate Housewives. She announces she'll be spending a prolonged time with them and their reaction? Drink Pepsi. Please!! This could be a skit in a comedy show. The only response of some lame, lame guy to whatever life throws at him - swig from a carbonated beverage.
Very good rendition of the national anthem by Guy Sebastian. Ok, the guy may not be able to write a song, but he can flat out sing. Great voice. Hears to hoping he finds his Bernie Taupin.
Ben Ikin - worst commentator ever. I mean, he makes Fatty Vautin look like Mr Impartial. Can he offer anything of substance?
"I can feel a Queenslander victory."
"The hoodoo could be broken."
"Well how about that Lockyer? Are you glad you won?"
For chrissakes, who the hell is paying him? He offers nothing. And i'm being kind here.
Greg Inglis. No one can push this guy back. Has anyone else noticed this? He doesn't look that strong, but of all the players, he always makes ground, even when he hits the tacklers. Someone's gotta size him up and put him down sooner or later. Surely!
All in all, a rather disappointing finale. I'd go so far as to rate this one of the worst games ever. Tension, it had. Everything else, it didn't. Don't get me wrong, there's some amazing talents in this game. But they didn't show it.
I actually have a good feeling about game three. NSW will be looser, Qld will be looser because they'll actually be drunk during the game.
Bring on the regular season...
Neither team played particularly well. Both sides defended pretty darn well. Qld showed more attacking flair. Kimmorley played well, but didn't actually do anything. In fact, NSW showed very few interesting attacking plays.
Qld, well, they did enough. It's not often that you can say that about a SOO victory, but there we are. Perhaps this same NSW team will gel after a few games, but you don't get that luxury in Origin football.
Odd comments:
NSW didn't fold as usual in the second half. They still lost, but they're making progress.
Please, spare me the interview with the family of the debutant.
"So, Mr Stewart, are you proud of your son?"
"In fact I am. Why do you ask?
"Because TV tradition demands I do."
"Eff off"
(that would have been the appropriate response)
Allow me to comment on the lame Pepsi Max ad. OK, so two guys are picked up by Eva Longoria from Desperate Housewives. She announces she'll be spending a prolonged time with them and their reaction? Drink Pepsi. Please!! This could be a skit in a comedy show. The only response of some lame, lame guy to whatever life throws at him - swig from a carbonated beverage.
Very good rendition of the national anthem by Guy Sebastian. Ok, the guy may not be able to write a song, but he can flat out sing. Great voice. Hears to hoping he finds his Bernie Taupin.
Ben Ikin - worst commentator ever. I mean, he makes Fatty Vautin look like Mr Impartial. Can he offer anything of substance?
"I can feel a Queenslander victory."
"The hoodoo could be broken."
"Well how about that Lockyer? Are you glad you won?"
For chrissakes, who the hell is paying him? He offers nothing. And i'm being kind here.
Greg Inglis. No one can push this guy back. Has anyone else noticed this? He doesn't look that strong, but of all the players, he always makes ground, even when he hits the tacklers. Someone's gotta size him up and put him down sooner or later. Surely!
All in all, a rather disappointing finale. I'd go so far as to rate this one of the worst games ever. Tension, it had. Everything else, it didn't. Don't get me wrong, there's some amazing talents in this game. But they didn't show it.
I actually have a good feeling about game three. NSW will be looser, Qld will be looser because they'll actually be drunk during the game.
Bring on the regular season...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
He moves like water - powerful and yielding at the same time
None other than the muscles from Brussels!
While we're YouTubing, a recent fave is euonym. "Is what you meaning good? Is what ana meaning name?" What the hell is she talking about?
And finally Carl Lewis exercising some weak, weak muscles.
I must pay tribute to the Sports Guy, far and away my favourite writer right now. He is the source, if indirect, for the above links, and I reckon I could make a great column pretty much ripping off his topics.
He referred today to an old column he wrote comparing Cheers and Seinfeld. Apparently today's generation doesn't appreciate Cheers, or Ted Danson's comic and acting genius. Granted he was better than Jerry Seinfeld, but that's not hard. And yes, George Costanza was the greatest character in the history of TV.
Even Seinfeld jumped the shark though. This stems from an episode of Happy Days when the Fonz somehow cleared a shark, marking the point when the series passes from greatness into mediocrity, be it by slow decline or rapid drop.
While we're YouTubing, a recent fave is euonym. "Is what you meaning good? Is what ana meaning name?" What the hell is she talking about?
And finally Carl Lewis exercising some weak, weak muscles.
I must pay tribute to the Sports Guy, far and away my favourite writer right now. He is the source, if indirect, for the above links, and I reckon I could make a great column pretty much ripping off his topics.
He referred today to an old column he wrote comparing Cheers and Seinfeld. Apparently today's generation doesn't appreciate Cheers, or Ted Danson's comic and acting genius. Granted he was better than Jerry Seinfeld, but that's not hard. And yes, George Costanza was the greatest character in the history of TV.
Even Seinfeld jumped the shark though. This stems from an episode of Happy Days when the Fonz somehow cleared a shark, marking the point when the series passes from greatness into mediocrity, be it by slow decline or rapid drop.
Monday, June 04, 2007
A different perspective on science
All hail Artful Science! Whoooo!! This is my dedicated vehicle for a different (OK, my)perspective on science. It comes with a slightly more professional, slightly more serious and, failing that, slightly more sciencey bent.
If the future unfolds in one particular way, at Artful Science you'll find not just links to my stories, but the whole stories, and they'll all be categomorised so you can head straight to areas that interest you - erotic images, for example (seriously). There'll also be insight, opinion, diatribes, interviews and such, with a strong emphasis on such.
Is the effect of the rhythm method slight?
Mercury's wobble means it's liquid, alright.
Aborigines didn't show up overnight.
War saves animals? If you don't fight.
Talking fish are quite a sight.
Hamster gets erection on international flight.
Tonal language gets genetic insight.
If the future unfolds in one particular way, at Artful Science you'll find not just links to my stories, but the whole stories, and they'll all be categomorised so you can head straight to areas that interest you - erotic images, for example (seriously). There'll also be insight, opinion, diatribes, interviews and such, with a strong emphasis on such.
~~~
Meanwhile, it's been a long while since I've given any inkling of my science writing activities, so allow me to provide an update.
What's a genome got to do with flight?Is the effect of the rhythm method slight?
Mercury's wobble means it's liquid, alright.
Aborigines didn't show up overnight.
War saves animals? If you don't fight.
Talking fish are quite a sight.
Hamster gets erection on international flight.
Tonal language gets genetic insight.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Ode to Clem
I saw a bird Oh pointy pointy
Sitting on a sign
The sign said “Clem’s” Oh pointy pointy
Chicken sans red wine
I took three steps and saw before me
Poultry products pure and true
Vegies, salads, chicken fried
And some was BBQ
So began a love affair
Between Clem’s food and me
Unfaithful though I’ve been – it’s true
For I’ve known KFC
But KFC to me is worse
than the worst of sloppy seconds
You’re my number one guy, Clem
Forget what Sanders reckons
Clem’s has heart, an old school feel,
Attractive staff who keep it real
Portions that are well proportioned
Perfect? Yes, but heed this caution
A Clementine visit can only proceed
With these conditions attached to the feed:
You mustn’t have been in 180 days
The moon must be in its 13th phase
Your cravings so bad you can hardly breathe
Your wallet ready for you to unsheathe
Accompany none who deride greasy fare
Or accompany none if you don’t want to share
Last but not least an optional feat
I also recommend taking a seat
Watching the phone booth and 7-11,
The King St shufflers and backfiring mufflers
While you sit in Clementine heaven
Follow these rules ‘fore your next Lunch Pack
And these words you’ll speak “Clem, I love you. I’ll be back”
Sitting on a sign
The sign said “Clem’s” Oh pointy pointy
Chicken sans red wine
I took three steps and saw before me
Poultry products pure and true
Vegies, salads, chicken fried
And some was BBQ
So began a love affair
Between Clem’s food and me
Unfaithful though I’ve been – it’s true
For I’ve known KFC
But KFC to me is worse
than the worst of sloppy seconds
You’re my number one guy, Clem
Forget what Sanders reckons
Clem’s has heart, an old school feel,
Attractive staff who keep it real
Portions that are well proportioned
Perfect? Yes, but heed this caution
A Clementine visit can only proceed
With these conditions attached to the feed:
You mustn’t have been in 180 days
The moon must be in its 13th phase
Your cravings so bad you can hardly breathe
Your wallet ready for you to unsheathe
Accompany none who deride greasy fare
Or accompany none if you don’t want to share
Last but not least an optional feat
I also recommend taking a seat
Watching the phone booth and 7-11,
The King St shufflers and backfiring mufflers
While you sit in Clementine heaven
Follow these rules ‘fore your next Lunch Pack
And these words you’ll speak “Clem, I love you. I’ll be back”
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Pot Pourri Fury
Mandatory sporting reference. It's the exciting French Open, set amidst the orange clay of the Roland Garros (soon to be renamed Pepe Le Pew) Stadium. This means two things. 1) People wonder whether Federer will ever win. 2) Wimbledon is just around the corner.
If you have the time, invest it here. A short clip from the critically acclaimed but yet to be released in cinemas or on dvd Mojave Phone Booth (see my links bar <--) is now available on YouTube. At risk of offending my life insurance company, I won't post the link here, but I urge you to investigate for yourself.
What the dickens is going on here? Australia's greenhouse gas emissions per unit of GDP are the highest in the OECD, and in major areas are still growing. Emissions have increased by 30% since 1990.
Art is in your life. I saw an art (entitled Corvus, which is latin for wang) at the Carriageworks last night. This really is a sterling venue - I can't recommend it highly enough.
If you have the time, invest it here. A short clip from the critically acclaimed but yet to be released in cinemas or on dvd Mojave Phone Booth (see my links bar <--) is now available on YouTube. At risk of offending my life insurance company, I won't post the link here, but I urge you to investigate for yourself.
What the dickens is going on here? Australia's greenhouse gas emissions per unit of GDP are the highest in the OECD, and in major areas are still growing. Emissions have increased by 30% since 1990.
Art is in your life. I saw an art (entitled Corvus, which is latin for wang) at the Carriageworks last night. This really is a sterling venue - I can't recommend it highly enough.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Vicarious Joy
Even though it's not mine, even though it's not my family's, the news of the birth of a child to a good friend of mine brings me great joy and excitement. Cheers to the little fallah, his ma and his papa, who i've known since he was a quiet, thoughtful year eighter with a penchant for creative writing in English Class, one foot in the world of his Grecian familial relations, one in the street-walkin', arcade game-clickin', gadang smokin' marrickville youth community, one in the brainy, handball playin', up and coming world of selective high schools.
Monday, May 14, 2007
On impulse sweets buying
Today I decided to leave the office during lunch, 'cause that's a good thing to do. From somewhere the thought came that I could buy something sweet. A donut, perhaps. A custard tart, perchance. These kind of thoughts sometimes come to me after lunch, on the way home, and occasionally on a saturday morning if I'm fetching the newspaper. I'd say I indulge my sweet tooth in this fashion - impromptu sweets purchase - once every week or three.
The problem is, it sometimes backfires.
Sometimes, there are negative consequences. These can range from poor quality food, to ruining my appetite, to guilt at sugar and fat intake. This will inevitably be accompanied by rueing the lost money (proportionate to cost of sweet) and tired realisation that, as the Crash Test Dummies sang, "You've Done it Once Again".
So today I was faced with a foreign environment - Haymerket / lower CBD and mere seconds to make my decision. I bought a chocolate eclair from an Asian bakery, at the expense of a custard tart. Something told me to try the eclair. Well, I tried it alright. And it was 99% cream! The pastry was passable, the chocolate pleasantly sweet. But it was practically a cream balloon, rather than a cream sandwich.
I am doing better, I tell myself. I don't make the same mistakes I used to. But just when you think you're getting out, they pull you back in. I can do better. I will do better. I did better! I mean, I will do better.
The problem is, it sometimes backfires.
Sometimes, there are negative consequences. These can range from poor quality food, to ruining my appetite, to guilt at sugar and fat intake. This will inevitably be accompanied by rueing the lost money (proportionate to cost of sweet) and tired realisation that, as the Crash Test Dummies sang, "You've Done it Once Again".
So today I was faced with a foreign environment - Haymerket / lower CBD and mere seconds to make my decision. I bought a chocolate eclair from an Asian bakery, at the expense of a custard tart. Something told me to try the eclair. Well, I tried it alright. And it was 99% cream! The pastry was passable, the chocolate pleasantly sweet. But it was practically a cream balloon, rather than a cream sandwich.
I am doing better, I tell myself. I don't make the same mistakes I used to. But just when you think you're getting out, they pull you back in. I can do better. I will do better. I did better! I mean, I will do better.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
How quickly hopes change
Golden State looked shot at one point this season. Actually, at many points they were shot. They had to win nine of their last ten games to scrape into the playoffs, for the first time in 13 years. Holy moly! So there was an expectation wildly exceeded. That wild excess seemed like nothing when the Warriors, as seed number eight of eight, beat the number one seed, Dallas in six games, 4-2. Holy cow! So of course, expectations went up, even though they'd been met in the same way that a freight train meets a bug on the tracks.
What happened next? Four of five ESPN employees picked the Warriors to beat the Jazz. Even though they're supposedly, purportedly, reputedly, allegedly the underdogs. When everyone is on them, there's only one way to go.
And yet at the end of game 1, when I clicked onto the ESPN scoreboard, there it was: GSW 116 beat Utah 112. On closer inspection it was actually the other way round. So they lost. But it was at Utah, and they did have a chance right at the end. So what now? Maybe they bounce back, shock the Jazz at home and go back to Oakland with their insane crowd for games three and four. Or maybe they lose, maybe they lose badly, and come back home with just that slight dent in their halo. Hell, they could be out in four games. Then everyone would be crushed, Dallas a distant memory. At the start of the series I thought the Warriors were a real chance. If they can snatch game 2, they'll win the whole thing. If not, well.... who gives a crap anyway.
What happened next? Four of five ESPN employees picked the Warriors to beat the Jazz. Even though they're supposedly, purportedly, reputedly, allegedly the underdogs. When everyone is on them, there's only one way to go.
And yet at the end of game 1, when I clicked onto the ESPN scoreboard, there it was: GSW 116 beat Utah 112. On closer inspection it was actually the other way round. So they lost. But it was at Utah, and they did have a chance right at the end. So what now? Maybe they bounce back, shock the Jazz at home and go back to Oakland with their insane crowd for games three and four. Or maybe they lose, maybe they lose badly, and come back home with just that slight dent in their halo. Hell, they could be out in four games. Then everyone would be crushed, Dallas a distant memory. At the start of the series I thought the Warriors were a real chance. If they can snatch game 2, they'll win the whole thing. If not, well.... who gives a crap anyway.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Inu, Vatuvei, Hunt, Thurston
A few thoughts from tonight's test. As usual the start was physical, and that's saying something for a game that's predicated on pec on pec contact. Thing is, it's now 100% guaranteed that every ANZ (screw the AC) test starts this way, and has big hits peppered through it as players tire but maintain the rage. So why do players keep talking about it? It's not news. We know it's coming. Instead of saying "Yeah, the Kiwis have a big pack, I'm sure it will be a physical start", they might as well say "It's a game where the aim is to place a ball on grass behind a line while 13 men will it not so." We've landed on the moon! Old news.
Arrival of Inu. Geez, how good was he? From the first DFWM hit-up, to the 100 metre bomb he defused (all rigger, no trigger). I will be absolutely shocked if this guy is not a star within 18 months.
Vatuvei. It's hard to get excited about a massive, fast, aggressive New Zealand winger, because they've had so many. In many ways, he's a snapshot of the Kiwis. The kind of player you don't want to play against, but wouldn't pick on your team.
Hunt. I haven't seen him much this year, but based on this game, he's really taken his game to a whole nutha level. Some fullbacks are happy to get smashed, others have that level of confidence...you know, you've seen it in Hodges, a while ago Minichiello, a decade back Mullins. Back when a fullback could honestly be a team's best player.
Thurston. Where's your messiah now, hmmyah! C'mon, can we just admit it now? Thurston is King, or at least King in Waiting. This dude is just too cool for school. He looks like he's toying with the opposition sometimes. I think last year's pain has the Cowboys primed. Thurston looks like he can just take the League by the horns and make it his own, if he wanted to. He's the kind of player you wish would be selfish, just once in a while. It's a bit like the Dogs bombing out in 05, and almost making the GF in 06. They know they're better than that so they come back and tear it up. I challenge you: name a player with a higher upside than Thurston. And I don't mean media-nominated upside, I mean real upside (sorry Sonny Bill, I still love ya).
Broncos connection pays off. i counted at least two tries constructed pretty much purely off Bronco play. Berrigan to Lockyer to Hodges to Tate. Tate on the break, kicks for Lockyer to score. Anthony Tupou. Is it just me, or is he the ultimate fifth wheel in the Aussie test team? He comes on in the 61st minute, does three runs and four tackles, and the camera catches him on the victory lap. I descried this lost look on his face, while all the other players waved and smiled.
I think it's time to divide the NRL into conferences. Imagine the teams. You'd have players from Nth Qld, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Newcastle, Manly, Parra, Penrif, Roosters in a NORTH team vs the best from Melbourne, New Zealand, Canberra, Cronulla, StG-Illa, Dogz, Wests-Tiges (based on geography of Campbelltown) and Souths in - naturally - the SOUTH team. C'mon, it easily has the potential to be better than SOO and test footy. Imagine a team with Sonny Bill, Inglis and Gaz. At first blush it looks like the South team would be stronger, but you can't discount the North. They'd play like Queenslanders, like Billy Moore. Let fans nominate the starting 13, coaches can nominate the bench. The day before there could be a goal-kicking contest or a tackle power comp or something like that thrown in. Just for players to show off a little or compete for bragging rights.
Look, once a year you get three games between NSW and QLD. Given. You get a Aus v NZ test. Given. But I truly believe there's room for a Northern v Western Conference game. It's artificial, yes, but it's a sure-fire way to create interest and put together the real best players. The ony danger is that it turns into an All Star game where players don't try and the real rivalry is purely imagined.
I know people will criticise me for ripping off the NBA and other sports o'er there, but remember: it's the Aussie way to take other people's great ideas and make them your own. Just think of the potential. (For those not following my train of thought, I was wondering what Vatuvei would be like in the context of a team with some decent Australian talent)
Good fortune. One of those moments when you're blinded by the smile Allah's bestowing on you. Following the League, Channel 9 had the breathtaking wisdom to screen Sports Disasters. TV at its best. Some clever Spanish men are subduing bulls. The crowd applauds....Now it's people skiing on 90 degree rocky slopes. Also clever... Man crushed by dune buggy. Aided by crowd.... woah, a South American soccer player just beat up a fan. Gave him a few good kicks to the solar plexus. Stupid fan, he deserved it.
Christ. It's the financial report. Wtf is going on with finance and the news these days? I'm half expecting the lead item in the news to be the fact that pork bellies are up 3/16ths. In fact it just was. Craig McMurtry from the Commonwealth has just declared his undying love for Penny Stocks and Junk Bonds. Heaven help us all.
Arrival of Inu. Geez, how good was he? From the first DFWM hit-up, to the 100 metre bomb he defused (all rigger, no trigger). I will be absolutely shocked if this guy is not a star within 18 months.
Vatuvei. It's hard to get excited about a massive, fast, aggressive New Zealand winger, because they've had so many. In many ways, he's a snapshot of the Kiwis. The kind of player you don't want to play against, but wouldn't pick on your team.
Hunt. I haven't seen him much this year, but based on this game, he's really taken his game to a whole nutha level. Some fullbacks are happy to get smashed, others have that level of confidence...you know, you've seen it in Hodges, a while ago Minichiello, a decade back Mullins. Back when a fullback could honestly be a team's best player.
Thurston. Where's your messiah now, hmmyah! C'mon, can we just admit it now? Thurston is King, or at least King in Waiting. This dude is just too cool for school. He looks like he's toying with the opposition sometimes. I think last year's pain has the Cowboys primed. Thurston looks like he can just take the League by the horns and make it his own, if he wanted to. He's the kind of player you wish would be selfish, just once in a while. It's a bit like the Dogs bombing out in 05, and almost making the GF in 06. They know they're better than that so they come back and tear it up. I challenge you: name a player with a higher upside than Thurston. And I don't mean media-nominated upside, I mean real upside (sorry Sonny Bill, I still love ya).
Broncos connection pays off. i counted at least two tries constructed pretty much purely off Bronco play. Berrigan to Lockyer to Hodges to Tate. Tate on the break, kicks for Lockyer to score. Anthony Tupou. Is it just me, or is he the ultimate fifth wheel in the Aussie test team? He comes on in the 61st minute, does three runs and four tackles, and the camera catches him on the victory lap. I descried this lost look on his face, while all the other players waved and smiled.
I think it's time to divide the NRL into conferences. Imagine the teams. You'd have players from Nth Qld, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Newcastle, Manly, Parra, Penrif, Roosters in a NORTH team vs the best from Melbourne, New Zealand, Canberra, Cronulla, StG-Illa, Dogz, Wests-Tiges (based on geography of Campbelltown) and Souths in - naturally - the SOUTH team. C'mon, it easily has the potential to be better than SOO and test footy. Imagine a team with Sonny Bill, Inglis and Gaz. At first blush it looks like the South team would be stronger, but you can't discount the North. They'd play like Queenslanders, like Billy Moore. Let fans nominate the starting 13, coaches can nominate the bench. The day before there could be a goal-kicking contest or a tackle power comp or something like that thrown in. Just for players to show off a little or compete for bragging rights.
Look, once a year you get three games between NSW and QLD. Given. You get a Aus v NZ test. Given. But I truly believe there's room for a Northern v Western Conference game. It's artificial, yes, but it's a sure-fire way to create interest and put together the real best players. The ony danger is that it turns into an All Star game where players don't try and the real rivalry is purely imagined.
I know people will criticise me for ripping off the NBA and other sports o'er there, but remember: it's the Aussie way to take other people's great ideas and make them your own. Just think of the potential. (For those not following my train of thought, I was wondering what Vatuvei would be like in the context of a team with some decent Australian talent)
Good fortune. One of those moments when you're blinded by the smile Allah's bestowing on you. Following the League, Channel 9 had the breathtaking wisdom to screen Sports Disasters. TV at its best. Some clever Spanish men are subduing bulls. The crowd applauds....Now it's people skiing on 90 degree rocky slopes. Also clever... Man crushed by dune buggy. Aided by crowd.... woah, a South American soccer player just beat up a fan. Gave him a few good kicks to the solar plexus. Stupid fan, he deserved it.
Christ. It's the financial report. Wtf is going on with finance and the news these days? I'm half expecting the lead item in the news to be the fact that pork bellies are up 3/16ths. In fact it just was. Craig McMurtry from the Commonwealth has just declared his undying love for Penny Stocks and Junk Bonds. Heaven help us all.
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