Voiceover: Tonight's episode feature's former activist Les Wangela.
Les: I'd had a good life. I'd seen a lot of poverty, a lot of inequality, and I'd *done* something about it. I was a fulltime activist, much more than fulltime actually. We had some big wins in there, for sure. The whales, koalas, pollution credits. Yeah, big big stuff.
Anyway, the board had been badgering me to take a holiday for a few years, so I did - packed my bags and flew to the Hamptons, upstate New York. It was a bit confronting initially, I'll be honest. Such wealth, such privilege. Very white bread, very little ethnic or cultural diversity. I don't think there was a primary school dropout there.
Frank Wooldi: Well when Les returned, you could tell something was different. He had this dull look in his eyes - there was no denying it. He stayed with us for another two months, did some more fine work - set in train things that are still going to this day, in fact - but after that he was gone.
Les: I couldn't, after having seen what I'd seen, go back. Just couldn't. My life as an activist had been so full of challenges, so what was another one? (laughs hysterically)
Voicever: Les enrolled in an MBA at the internationally renowned Chicago School of Economics, and thanks to hard work and, more importantly, making the right connections, ended up with plum jobs at Goldman Sachs and then the US Treasury.
Les: I do look back sometimes, thinking about my old life. But I'm much happier now. I buy over $10,000 worth of skincare products every month. I recreate on private beaches and drink at exclusive clubs. I've just gotten my third trophy wife, and this one is younger, dumber and gives better BJs than the last two.
Cherry: Les is a wonderful husband. He has so much money, and he let's me use quite a bit of it.
Monday, September 03, 2012
Our Resources
Good evening Ladies and Gentleman.
Humans have some *pretty cool* resources. Trees, water, precious minerals, fossil fuels, -
What's that? Who says they belong to humans? It's self evident isn't it? I mean, really, stop being so childish! Who owns them if not us? The dolphins? The chimpanzees? E Coli? (guffaws). Next question - Wait, I mean, let me continue. These resources must be cared for -
What? What's that? Of course humans must care for our resources, what are you, some kind of environment hater? Oh, you're saying we can't care for them? Well that's patently untrue, just look at, um, look at... Well there are many laws and policies in place, we extract a great deal of value... Hmm, yes, I suppose you're right. We don't exactly look after them, do we? But we ought to really, they do so much, and not just for us humans, but for other life forms -
Hmm? You think it's a nonsense that one species can look after every so called resource on the planet? Alright, that's it, I'm going. I'm not used to being undermined like this, and at the very start of my speech too. Piss off, the lot of you.
~~~
Hello there. Here is our new proclamation. What humans proclaim as resources, the rest of the world proclaims as... well, itself. Living things aren't ours. Rocks aren't ours, water isn't ours. We are part of nature, we can never be removed from it.
Humans have some *pretty cool* resources. Trees, water, precious minerals, fossil fuels, -
What's that? Who says they belong to humans? It's self evident isn't it? I mean, really, stop being so childish! Who owns them if not us? The dolphins? The chimpanzees? E Coli? (guffaws). Next question - Wait, I mean, let me continue. These resources must be cared for -
What? What's that? Of course humans must care for our resources, what are you, some kind of environment hater? Oh, you're saying we can't care for them? Well that's patently untrue, just look at, um, look at... Well there are many laws and policies in place, we extract a great deal of value... Hmm, yes, I suppose you're right. We don't exactly look after them, do we? But we ought to really, they do so much, and not just for us humans, but for other life forms -
Hmm? You think it's a nonsense that one species can look after every so called resource on the planet? Alright, that's it, I'm going. I'm not used to being undermined like this, and at the very start of my speech too. Piss off, the lot of you.
~~~
Hello there. Here is our new proclamation. What humans proclaim as resources, the rest of the world proclaims as... well, itself. Living things aren't ours. Rocks aren't ours, water isn't ours. We are part of nature, we can never be removed from it.
The source of 99% of all insight ever: political interviews
Australian troops will be out of Afghanistan by 2014, the Prime Minister today announced.
JG: Take a good, long look at Afghanistan, people. The place is thriving! I mean, it's almost embarrassing for us as Australians - they're breathing down our neck, development wise! But seriously, our troops have sacrificed so much to achieve so little. It's time I pulled them out.
Reporter 1: When did you make this decision, Prime Minister?
JG: While I was taking a shit this morning. I was in considerable pain, and I was immediately reminded of the plight of the Afghan people. Going in for the second wipe, I decided that it was time to bring our troops home.
Reporter 2: With all due respect, Prime Minister, isn't this just cutting and running? The place is in ruins, no one is safe, and our forces are all that stand between women and their certain oppression and defilement by the Taliban.
JG: No, that's not right. Our troops haven't really protected women that much.
Reporter 2: So you're agreeing that you're cutting and running?
JG: Well I suppose you could say we're agreeing to disagree.
Reporter 3: Is this just because we're going to have troops in Iran soon?
JG: Maybe yes, maybe no. That would be telling, wouldn't it!
Reporter 4: The Cats had a surprise loss on the weekend. How are you taking it?
JG: Well as some of you know, I'm a devout follower of Geelong. Two time premiers in the last three years, need I remind you (laughing). Everyone has a surprise loss in them - I suppose you could say Afghanistan was our troops' surprise loss. But they'll bounce back - Geelong, I mean. Our troops, i'm not so sure, i mean how could they lose to those backward twerps? The mind boggles. No more questions.
Reporter 5: Ms Gillard, can you give me directions to that new Turkish place in St Kilda?
JG: I said no more questions!
~~~
Chris Uleman: We have a special treat for our viewers on 7:30 tonight. It's a delicious Magnum almond ice cream. We are now joined by the Treasurer, Wayne Swann. Treasurer, thank you for joining us.
WS: It's a great, great pleasure. I'm practically busting out of my pants here.
CU: Right. If we could get into economic policy, the International Monetary Fund has recently come out and said that the Australian economy will outperform every other comparable economy over the next three years. You must be proud.
WS: Very proud. I'm beaming. I have kids, Chris, and I can emphatically state that the performance of our economy is on a par with any of their achievements, be it in sports, the arts or whatever.
CU: But the IMF also pointed to several structural flaws in the economy that could hinder growth.
WS: Did they? Oh no! What were they?
CU: Please, Treasurer, in all seriousness -
WS: No, I am serious. What were they? I caught the headline about our economy on abc dot net dot au forward slash news. I didn't actually read their report.
CU: Well that's quite an indictment for our national treasurer, wouldn't you say?
WS: Do you realise how much I read every day? Did you read the whole report?
CU: Well -
WS: I thought as much. Probably one of your reporters, some upstart who pines for replacing you one day, picked out a few choice snippets, armed you and here we are.
CU: But I'm not the treasurer, Treasurer.
WS: Why are you repeating yourself? So are you going to tell me what their criticisms were?
CU: What? Ah... Yes, here we are. "Never in the history of an economy has there been a period of more than a few years without any kind of major shock or setback. And let's not forget even during the good periods there are plenty whose lives completely suck"-
WS: Sorry, are you still reading?
CU: Yes, this is all quotes.
WS: Gee. Go on.
CU: "So it is hardly going out on a limb to state that there are some imperfections in the Australian economy which could lead to significant trouble down the track. We hereby nominate, due to their misalignment with some graphs in our economics textbook, the following areas:"-
WS: Hang on. Did you hear that? All they're saying is that we're not perfect. Well duh! What's more, who's to say that the reasons for problems do not lie beyond Australia - or more radically, may I suggest, who's to say that the causes of difficulty and perhaps even collapse are not the same as the causes of prosperity and double digit GDP growth? What if the entire system is flawed, and will pave its own demise, much like some demented roadworker?
CU: That's quite a statement, Treasurer.
WS: Thank you.
CU: Moving on to a different topic, what do you make of the new Ubuntu release?
WS: I can't say I'm much of a computer guru, but I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for open source distributions such as Linux, and to a lesser extent Open Office. Can you play solitaire on them?
CU: I believe so. Treasurer Swann, we're going to have to leave it there.
WS: Must we? Oh well. Bye.
JG: Take a good, long look at Afghanistan, people. The place is thriving! I mean, it's almost embarrassing for us as Australians - they're breathing down our neck, development wise! But seriously, our troops have sacrificed so much to achieve so little. It's time I pulled them out.
Reporter 1: When did you make this decision, Prime Minister?
JG: While I was taking a shit this morning. I was in considerable pain, and I was immediately reminded of the plight of the Afghan people. Going in for the second wipe, I decided that it was time to bring our troops home.
Reporter 2: With all due respect, Prime Minister, isn't this just cutting and running? The place is in ruins, no one is safe, and our forces are all that stand between women and their certain oppression and defilement by the Taliban.
JG: No, that's not right. Our troops haven't really protected women that much.
Reporter 2: So you're agreeing that you're cutting and running?
JG: Well I suppose you could say we're agreeing to disagree.
Reporter 3: Is this just because we're going to have troops in Iran soon?
JG: Maybe yes, maybe no. That would be telling, wouldn't it!
Reporter 4: The Cats had a surprise loss on the weekend. How are you taking it?
JG: Well as some of you know, I'm a devout follower of Geelong. Two time premiers in the last three years, need I remind you (laughing). Everyone has a surprise loss in them - I suppose you could say Afghanistan was our troops' surprise loss. But they'll bounce back - Geelong, I mean. Our troops, i'm not so sure, i mean how could they lose to those backward twerps? The mind boggles. No more questions.
Reporter 5: Ms Gillard, can you give me directions to that new Turkish place in St Kilda?
JG: I said no more questions!
~~~
Chris Uleman: We have a special treat for our viewers on 7:30 tonight. It's a delicious Magnum almond ice cream. We are now joined by the Treasurer, Wayne Swann. Treasurer, thank you for joining us.
WS: It's a great, great pleasure. I'm practically busting out of my pants here.
CU: Right. If we could get into economic policy, the International Monetary Fund has recently come out and said that the Australian economy will outperform every other comparable economy over the next three years. You must be proud.
WS: Very proud. I'm beaming. I have kids, Chris, and I can emphatically state that the performance of our economy is on a par with any of their achievements, be it in sports, the arts or whatever.
CU: But the IMF also pointed to several structural flaws in the economy that could hinder growth.
WS: Did they? Oh no! What were they?
CU: Please, Treasurer, in all seriousness -
WS: No, I am serious. What were they? I caught the headline about our economy on abc dot net dot au forward slash news. I didn't actually read their report.
CU: Well that's quite an indictment for our national treasurer, wouldn't you say?
WS: Do you realise how much I read every day? Did you read the whole report?
CU: Well -
WS: I thought as much. Probably one of your reporters, some upstart who pines for replacing you one day, picked out a few choice snippets, armed you and here we are.
CU: But I'm not the treasurer, Treasurer.
WS: Why are you repeating yourself? So are you going to tell me what their criticisms were?
CU: What? Ah... Yes, here we are. "Never in the history of an economy has there been a period of more than a few years without any kind of major shock or setback. And let's not forget even during the good periods there are plenty whose lives completely suck"-
WS: Sorry, are you still reading?
CU: Yes, this is all quotes.
WS: Gee. Go on.
CU: "So it is hardly going out on a limb to state that there are some imperfections in the Australian economy which could lead to significant trouble down the track. We hereby nominate, due to their misalignment with some graphs in our economics textbook, the following areas:"-
WS: Hang on. Did you hear that? All they're saying is that we're not perfect. Well duh! What's more, who's to say that the reasons for problems do not lie beyond Australia - or more radically, may I suggest, who's to say that the causes of difficulty and perhaps even collapse are not the same as the causes of prosperity and double digit GDP growth? What if the entire system is flawed, and will pave its own demise, much like some demented roadworker?
CU: That's quite a statement, Treasurer.
WS: Thank you.
CU: Moving on to a different topic, what do you make of the new Ubuntu release?
WS: I can't say I'm much of a computer guru, but I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for open source distributions such as Linux, and to a lesser extent Open Office. Can you play solitaire on them?
CU: I believe so. Treasurer Swann, we're going to have to leave it there.
WS: Must we? Oh well. Bye.
Academic battles: resuscitating the bully within
There's something mildly compelling about reading academics duke it out. Each rebuttal more conclusive and devastating than the next. In the event that I ever become engaged in a bookish battle, I've had a practice run below.
~~~
Response to Juang
There is much to commend in Hugh Juang's review of my Day Trading: A Microbiological Perspective. For starters, I can find no typos.
What's more, he conveys his central thesis with brilliant effectiveness. As it turns out, this thesis is that he is a real jerk with no clue about anything.
Juang - if that is his real name - claims that assessing the microbiology of high powered finance workers is of dubious merit. I would simply note that Juang's pulse might also be considered of dubious merit.
It is when Juang moves into more concrete comments that the soft, pink and hairless underbelly of his arguments is exposed. His claim that microfauna are of little consequence to stock price movements would be laughable, were it not so offensive. I simply point to the great cholera outbreak of 1887 and the ensuing dip in stocks of greater than 2.9%.
Juang must stand on surer ground when it comes to issuing proclamations from his professed area of expertise, Fijian marital aids during the Dot Com boom, right? Sadly, this isn't the case. As any professor in venereal disease could have told Juang - had he bothered to check - the 2002 shortage in strap-ons at Frank's Sex Shop near the Singapore Stock Exchange most certainly did have disastrous effects on several large firms - and *beneficial* effects on others. One is left to wonder whether Juang's credentials were acquired after poring through his spam email folder.
I had looked forward to reading a critique of this work that addressed matters of substance in a constructive way. Instead, I at least have a lead for my daughter's daycare centre, who have advertised a vacancy in their 2 year olds and under room.
This comprehensive rebuttal should not be confused for an attack on Juang - I wish him well in whatever pursuits he has the capacity to attempt.
~~~
Response to Juang
There is much to commend in Hugh Juang's review of my Day Trading: A Microbiological Perspective. For starters, I can find no typos.
What's more, he conveys his central thesis with brilliant effectiveness. As it turns out, this thesis is that he is a real jerk with no clue about anything.
Juang - if that is his real name - claims that assessing the microbiology of high powered finance workers is of dubious merit. I would simply note that Juang's pulse might also be considered of dubious merit.
It is when Juang moves into more concrete comments that the soft, pink and hairless underbelly of his arguments is exposed. His claim that microfauna are of little consequence to stock price movements would be laughable, were it not so offensive. I simply point to the great cholera outbreak of 1887 and the ensuing dip in stocks of greater than 2.9%.
Juang must stand on surer ground when it comes to issuing proclamations from his professed area of expertise, Fijian marital aids during the Dot Com boom, right? Sadly, this isn't the case. As any professor in venereal disease could have told Juang - had he bothered to check - the 2002 shortage in strap-ons at Frank's Sex Shop near the Singapore Stock Exchange most certainly did have disastrous effects on several large firms - and *beneficial* effects on others. One is left to wonder whether Juang's credentials were acquired after poring through his spam email folder.
I had looked forward to reading a critique of this work that addressed matters of substance in a constructive way. Instead, I at least have a lead for my daughter's daycare centre, who have advertised a vacancy in their 2 year olds and under room.
This comprehensive rebuttal should not be confused for an attack on Juang - I wish him well in whatever pursuits he has the capacity to attempt.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
A new rap
i'd like to smell your finery
i'm not a fan of joinery
some hogs are mean and ornery
my lyrical refinery
a place where dreams are made and sold
where neural networks turn to gold
where hiphop cheese is born from mould
and truth be told, you've just been rolled
lost your bearings, pockets empty
askin 'where has H-time sent me?'
swapped your volvo for a bentley,
did it gently, can't resent me
sunk my roots into your mind
now you're dreaming, now you're cryin'
can't rewind, no use tryin
relocate to Proserpine
i'm not a fan of joinery
some hogs are mean and ornery
my lyrical refinery
a place where dreams are made and sold
where neural networks turn to gold
where hiphop cheese is born from mould
and truth be told, you've just been rolled
lost your bearings, pockets empty
askin 'where has H-time sent me?'
swapped your volvo for a bentley,
did it gently, can't resent me
sunk my roots into your mind
now you're dreaming, now you're cryin'
can't rewind, no use tryin
relocate to Proserpine
My philosophy
"Turn the other cheek," Jesus was said to have advised his disciples. His 18th and 19th disciples, Louanne and Ralph, misunderstood and went on to found the first ever market in pork bellies in Lower Jerusalem, but to everyone else this stands as a fine example of Christ's philosophy. I would like to tell you my philosophy.
"Wish ill not upon the downtrodden."
This is to a large extent unnecessary, as plenty of happiness can be derived from their current suffering without adding to it.
"A rolling stone is bound to stop eventually."
Even from the top of Mount Everest, a rolled stone will only fall for a minute or two before hitting the ground, a yak or Sherpa Tenzing Norgay's commemorative plaque. And then it stands to gather moss. If you really hate moss that much, you've got no choice but to pick up the stone and keep rolling it every few minutes, which will eventually be bad for your back.
"Treat others as you would like to treat them."
Of course, this may also be quoted in its corollary, "Have others treat you the way you'd like to be treated." I much prefer this to the Golden Rule.
"Laughter is the best medicine, unless a generic painkiller is available."
I have seen no disease or malady which laughter is incapable of curing, including, but not limited to the pox, itchy elbows and Frowner's Disease. Unfortunately it's been excised altogether from cancer wards, as the patients began to associate laughter with vomiting and soon couldn't bear the thought of it.
"Three eyes for three eyes."
In some ways this is the ideal which best sums up my philosophy. I am fiercely dedicated to justice, but because so few people have three eyes, it very rarely requires invoking. And when it does there's usually a 60 Minutes crew on hand to pay for everything.
"Everything to excess, including moderation."
Speaks for itself really.
"To block hats - that is everything."
With thanks to Woody Allen.
"Wish ill not upon the downtrodden."
This is to a large extent unnecessary, as plenty of happiness can be derived from their current suffering without adding to it.
"A rolling stone is bound to stop eventually."
Even from the top of Mount Everest, a rolled stone will only fall for a minute or two before hitting the ground, a yak or Sherpa Tenzing Norgay's commemorative plaque. And then it stands to gather moss. If you really hate moss that much, you've got no choice but to pick up the stone and keep rolling it every few minutes, which will eventually be bad for your back.
"Treat others as you would like to treat them."
Of course, this may also be quoted in its corollary, "Have others treat you the way you'd like to be treated." I much prefer this to the Golden Rule.
"Laughter is the best medicine, unless a generic painkiller is available."
I have seen no disease or malady which laughter is incapable of curing, including, but not limited to the pox, itchy elbows and Frowner's Disease. Unfortunately it's been excised altogether from cancer wards, as the patients began to associate laughter with vomiting and soon couldn't bear the thought of it.
"Three eyes for three eyes."
In some ways this is the ideal which best sums up my philosophy. I am fiercely dedicated to justice, but because so few people have three eyes, it very rarely requires invoking. And when it does there's usually a 60 Minutes crew on hand to pay for everything.
"Everything to excess, including moderation."
Speaks for itself really.
"To block hats - that is everything."
With thanks to Woody Allen.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Made From Off Local Pineapple
A new aggressive hip hop song (*incomplete)
ah yeah (hell yeah)
that's right muthafuckiz
here we go
uncertainty
can you handle it?
uncertainty
can you deal with it?
uncertainty
can you live with it?
uncertainty
you gotta live with it
~~
The One Minute Thousandaire
The for sale book about how to make thousands of dollars!
it goes like this
i'm going to let you in on a secret
there is no secret - that's the secret!
you too can make thousands - over time
here are the ways, and i won't even get into all the amazing things you can do with your thousands
way the first, someone gives it to you. it may be a gift, an inheritance, a prize. you now have at least $1000!
another way, you get a job. if you earn $8 an hour, you only need work 125 hours to earn $1000 gross! some people do that in two weeks!! even allowing for tax, you can earn this much in 4-6 weeks or less. now if you earn $600/hour, you will have $1000 in under two hours, depending
on your tax rate.
the last way is to steal it, you may steal an item you then sell for thousands of dollars, or you may just steal the cash.
think about these simple words for a minute, and when you're enjoying your thousands feel free to pay a small mental tribute, by way of a recommendation of this for sale book to me.
enjoy and go get 'em!
~~
A popular children's rhyme
Little Jinky Marsen
Goes into her school
It's a living nightmare
Her parents send her back
~~
Laughing therapy
A news item about self help groups where people congregate in a park, form a circle and laugh, hysterically where possible. Shot ends with man in group laughing hysterically. Cut to news reader, who chuckles, then to co-anchor, who also chuckles, then to man sitting on couch at home watching news, who chuckles, then to man sitting next to him, bound and gagged, who tries to muster a chuckle, then to police officer hiding behind couch, who chuckles, then stands up and shoots the unbound man, then chuckles, cut to bound man, who again tries to muster a chuckle.
~~
Hi Bertha,
hope the day's been good to you. Perhaps you found five cents in the gutter, received a promotion, or made eye contact with that guy from the office you want to bang.
I am writing about your request for data. I am able to comply with it, in fact this letter is a contribution to the fulfilment of your requirements.
I have attached the data, but would first like to make a few points.
The data is quite sound overall, but there are some quality issues. I might as well come out and say it: trust. I caught some of the data organising events with some of my friends and they never even bothered to invite me. I also loaned one of them a fiver and am yet to see it.
I should explain also a couple of abbreviations: sname stands for station name, but that's pretty obvious. pval stands for p value, whatever that is. something about stats and stuff. also, and i just found this out, but QANTAS stands for Queensland And Northern Territory Air Service.
Finally there are a few conditions attached to the use of it. Any publications arising from its use should acknowledge Werber, Benson et al 2010 (full reference attached). Each time you open it, you are required to raise your hands towards the ceiling, shake them around a bit and say "praise, praise be to Werber, Benson et al!". Also if you delete the data at some point, a few words about Werber, Benson et al would be appreciated. I can send you a sample Vale if you like.
Great to hear from you, and I look forward to spending much more time with my family soon, not that you're really interested in that.
Love,
Werber
ps What's your name again?
~~
Haiku
warrimoo my house
everything is still, quiet
fuckin sweet as
~~
iiri
Now, if I recall incorrectly, the Prime Minister has promised to provide extensive health and life insurance for our nation's numbats, quokkas and bandicoots. I ask you, in this economic climate, can we really justify such outlandish expenditures? And even if we grant the desirability of this measure, how can we possibily implement it? Several leading insurers and reinsurers have privately expressed doubt that the proposal, as it currently stands, is practical. I have also commissioned ABARE research which shows that this measure will yield minimal productivity returns for Australia, and have almost no impact on employment.
ah yeah (hell yeah)
that's right muthafuckiz
here we go
uncertainty
can you handle it?
uncertainty
can you deal with it?
uncertainty
can you live with it?
uncertainty
you gotta live with it
~~
The One Minute Thousandaire
The for sale book about how to make thousands of dollars!
it goes like this
i'm going to let you in on a secret
there is no secret - that's the secret!
you too can make thousands - over time
here are the ways, and i won't even get into all the amazing things you can do with your thousands
way the first, someone gives it to you. it may be a gift, an inheritance, a prize. you now have at least $1000!
another way, you get a job. if you earn $8 an hour, you only need work 125 hours to earn $1000 gross! some people do that in two weeks!! even allowing for tax, you can earn this much in 4-6 weeks or less. now if you earn $600/hour, you will have $1000 in under two hours, depending
on your tax rate.
the last way is to steal it, you may steal an item you then sell for thousands of dollars, or you may just steal the cash.
think about these simple words for a minute, and when you're enjoying your thousands feel free to pay a small mental tribute, by way of a recommendation of this for sale book to me.
enjoy and go get 'em!
~~
A popular children's rhyme
Little Jinky Marsen
Goes into her school
It's a living nightmare
Her parents send her back
~~
Laughing therapy
A news item about self help groups where people congregate in a park, form a circle and laugh, hysterically where possible. Shot ends with man in group laughing hysterically. Cut to news reader, who chuckles, then to co-anchor, who also chuckles, then to man sitting on couch at home watching news, who chuckles, then to man sitting next to him, bound and gagged, who tries to muster a chuckle, then to police officer hiding behind couch, who chuckles, then stands up and shoots the unbound man, then chuckles, cut to bound man, who again tries to muster a chuckle.
~~
Hi Bertha,
hope the day's been good to you. Perhaps you found five cents in the gutter, received a promotion, or made eye contact with that guy from the office you want to bang.
I am writing about your request for data. I am able to comply with it, in fact this letter is a contribution to the fulfilment of your requirements.
I have attached the data, but would first like to make a few points.
The data is quite sound overall, but there are some quality issues. I might as well come out and say it: trust. I caught some of the data organising events with some of my friends and they never even bothered to invite me. I also loaned one of them a fiver and am yet to see it.
I should explain also a couple of abbreviations: sname stands for station name, but that's pretty obvious. pval stands for p value, whatever that is. something about stats and stuff. also, and i just found this out, but QANTAS stands for Queensland And Northern Territory Air Service.
Finally there are a few conditions attached to the use of it. Any publications arising from its use should acknowledge Werber, Benson et al 2010 (full reference attached). Each time you open it, you are required to raise your hands towards the ceiling, shake them around a bit and say "praise, praise be to Werber, Benson et al!". Also if you delete the data at some point, a few words about Werber, Benson et al would be appreciated. I can send you a sample Vale if you like.
Great to hear from you, and I look forward to spending much more time with my family soon, not that you're really interested in that.
Love,
Werber
ps What's your name again?
~~
Haiku
warrimoo my house
everything is still, quiet
fuckin sweet as
~~
iiri
Now, if I recall incorrectly, the Prime Minister has promised to provide extensive health and life insurance for our nation's numbats, quokkas and bandicoots. I ask you, in this economic climate, can we really justify such outlandish expenditures? And even if we grant the desirability of this measure, how can we possibily implement it? Several leading insurers and reinsurers have privately expressed doubt that the proposal, as it currently stands, is practical. I have also commissioned ABARE research which shows that this measure will yield minimal productivity returns for Australia, and have almost no impact on employment.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Missile Magnussen Wows Chinese
Australian swimming sensation James Magnussen has shocked the world by winning a race he was expected by most to win.
"It is a huge thrill and honour to be the first Australian to win this event at the Worlds. I now call upon the administrators to conduct a full and searching probe into Australian swimming."
Magnussen has burst onto the Australian swimming scene of late, having not even been aware of the act of swimming until as little as six months ago.
He initially tried to propel himself forward by drinking water and excreting it, like a rocket, but with proper coaching techniques he soon revamped his form and dedicated himself to freestyle.
At the Australian trials in March, he was refused entry to the pool as nobody recognised him, but he abseiled in through the ceiling and took out gold, earning himself a spot at the world championships. After leaving his swimmers in the changerooms, he returned to the pool but was once again refused entry.
Magnussen won the 100m in a time of 47.61 seconds, a full three minutes ahead of his nearest competitor. Magnussen's main rival, Alfonse Dukakis, was executed after complaining that the Chinese authorities were blocking his access to high quality pornography over the internet.
Other members of the finals field were sluggish, morose and ham-fisted at best, leaving the Aussie in a perfect place to seize the title for himself, Australia and myself.
Still somewhat a novice in the pool, Magnussen kept swimming for an additional 200m before being told the race was over and that he had won. Amazingly, he then broke the world records for the 50m, 100m and 200m events and officials will let them stand.
Magnussen is now poised to make a mint in endorsements, and has already been pencilled in as the next cover girl for Loreal. His management has confirmed that he has also been approached by Weetbix for a position as factory quality control officer.
Next up for Magnussen is the London Olympics in 2012, where he has tentatively agreed to take place in the equestrian as a horse.
"It is a huge thrill and honour to be the first Australian to win this event at the Worlds. I now call upon the administrators to conduct a full and searching probe into Australian swimming."
Magnussen has burst onto the Australian swimming scene of late, having not even been aware of the act of swimming until as little as six months ago.
He initially tried to propel himself forward by drinking water and excreting it, like a rocket, but with proper coaching techniques he soon revamped his form and dedicated himself to freestyle.
At the Australian trials in March, he was refused entry to the pool as nobody recognised him, but he abseiled in through the ceiling and took out gold, earning himself a spot at the world championships. After leaving his swimmers in the changerooms, he returned to the pool but was once again refused entry.
Magnussen won the 100m in a time of 47.61 seconds, a full three minutes ahead of his nearest competitor. Magnussen's main rival, Alfonse Dukakis, was executed after complaining that the Chinese authorities were blocking his access to high quality pornography over the internet.
Other members of the finals field were sluggish, morose and ham-fisted at best, leaving the Aussie in a perfect place to seize the title for himself, Australia and myself.
Still somewhat a novice in the pool, Magnussen kept swimming for an additional 200m before being told the race was over and that he had won. Amazingly, he then broke the world records for the 50m, 100m and 200m events and officials will let them stand.
Magnussen is now poised to make a mint in endorsements, and has already been pencilled in as the next cover girl for Loreal. His management has confirmed that he has also been approached by Weetbix for a position as factory quality control officer.
Next up for Magnussen is the London Olympics in 2012, where he has tentatively agreed to take place in the equestrian as a horse.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
The Sensitive Spreader
Once upon a time, there lived a man. In many ways he was a normal man, living after the fashion of the people of his time. In one important respect he differed. This man had the ability to apply margarine and even butter to the softest and most brittle of bread products, be they toasted or untoasted. He was a Sensitive Spreader.
Nobody knows exactly how this talent developed, although it is likely that, in the manner of all athletic and artistic savants, it came through a combination of hereditary gifts and dutiful, loving application. Almost certainly he did not possess this talent as a child, awkward and still developing as they are, both mentally and physically. Yet we know also that few - indeed up until the Sensitive Spreader, none - of these children go on to acquire the ability to apply spreads in such a sensitive, yielding and successful manner.
The Sensitive Spreader lived for the most part a quiet and regular life, although his talents did not go unnoticed. Some marvelled, others disbelieved until they saw, some were jealous, and others were incomprehensibly indifferent. Within his inner circle, they came to take it for granted much of the time, until perhaps one of them ventured to apply a refrigerated piece of butter to an undertoasted and too thinly sliced sourdough - with awful consequences. These misadventures affected the Sensitive Spreader too, as he felt acutely the pain of a piece of toast run roughshod, ploughed with a butter knife beyond recognition and ridiculously uneven in its coverage. In times like this he would withdraw, sometimes for hours, but only after giving the toast its proper burial rites and offering to right this wrong with a fresh piece.
And so life went on for the Sensitive Spreader, until fate intervened one cool autumnal day.
Nobody knows exactly how this talent developed, although it is likely that, in the manner of all athletic and artistic savants, it came through a combination of hereditary gifts and dutiful, loving application. Almost certainly he did not possess this talent as a child, awkward and still developing as they are, both mentally and physically. Yet we know also that few - indeed up until the Sensitive Spreader, none - of these children go on to acquire the ability to apply spreads in such a sensitive, yielding and successful manner.
The Sensitive Spreader lived for the most part a quiet and regular life, although his talents did not go unnoticed. Some marvelled, others disbelieved until they saw, some were jealous, and others were incomprehensibly indifferent. Within his inner circle, they came to take it for granted much of the time, until perhaps one of them ventured to apply a refrigerated piece of butter to an undertoasted and too thinly sliced sourdough - with awful consequences. These misadventures affected the Sensitive Spreader too, as he felt acutely the pain of a piece of toast run roughshod, ploughed with a butter knife beyond recognition and ridiculously uneven in its coverage. In times like this he would withdraw, sometimes for hours, but only after giving the toast its proper burial rites and offering to right this wrong with a fresh piece.
And so life went on for the Sensitive Spreader, until fate intervened one cool autumnal day.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Wobbly earth
He sat on the fractured wall and watched the precursor to pandemonium, the scene that is not, but that when whipped up by time and other things becomes pandemonium.
The raw events - no intepretation, no narrative.
The raw events are replaced, overwhelmed - despite the ceaseless freefall into newness. But not much new, for now, can fight and beat this scene.
Things were vibrating as they always do. Some people walked and some fell. Some things also fell, sometimes on the people.
And the senselessness of it all occurred to him but he also observed that reality may be a mirror. There's sense and plenty of it, all sorts of it. More than enough to go round. Too much even.
But those were thoughts elsewhere and right now he saw the same single moment in its entirety. No time for sadness. Gravity meeting electrostatic repulsion, later to be dressed up.
So he held it all up and inspected it lovingly, turning it around and looking at it from different sides, alternately surprised, heartened, heartbroken, but at all times it gleamed like a diamond.
He put it in his pocket and felt it press against his thigh, and he pulled it out again and tossed it, freely, aside and walked on.
I hope the people in this photo don't mind me putting it here.
The raw events - no intepretation, no narrative.
The raw events are replaced, overwhelmed - despite the ceaseless freefall into newness. But not much new, for now, can fight and beat this scene.
Things were vibrating as they always do. Some people walked and some fell. Some things also fell, sometimes on the people.
And the senselessness of it all occurred to him but he also observed that reality may be a mirror. There's sense and plenty of it, all sorts of it. More than enough to go round. Too much even.
But those were thoughts elsewhere and right now he saw the same single moment in its entirety. No time for sadness. Gravity meeting electrostatic repulsion, later to be dressed up.
So he held it all up and inspected it lovingly, turning it around and looking at it from different sides, alternately surprised, heartened, heartbroken, but at all times it gleamed like a diamond.
He put it in his pocket and felt it press against his thigh, and he pulled it out again and tossed it, freely, aside and walked on.
I hope the people in this photo don't mind me putting it here.Monday, January 17, 2011
Dokic shrugs off dumped coach
Jelena Dokic wrote another chapter in her famously troubled career when she made a successful start at the Australian Open despite splitting with her coach just moments earlier.
Dokic, confirmed the parting with Glenn Schaap after subduing Czech player Zuzana Ondraskova 6-3, 6-2.
"Yeah, we split half an hour ago, right before the first change of ends in the second set. Nothing special. No hard feelings, you know," she shrugged.
"There are certain people that suit you for your game and for your personality. This was just not one of them. It was all kind of a test period anyway."
There was some confusion as Dokic was seen making the throat slit gesture after converting a break point with a powerful backhand winner.
"That wasn’t directed at Zuzana. I was just letting Glenn know he was fired. I wasn’t really happy with his body language. I make a lot of unforced errors, you know, and I need a coach that will be there for me."
Schaap was seen making a spirited plea to Dokic during a subsequent change of ends, but she made the talking gesture with her hands and was heard to say ‘This is what you’re doing’, after which she held her hand closed and said ‘This is what I want you to do.’
Schaap subsequently stormed off and was later seen eating an ice cream and getting a shoulder massage from Pat Rafter.
Dokic had been coached by Schaap, formerly with Dinara Safina and Nadia Petrova, since the second set tiebreak of a third round match at the French Open last year.
Dokic is currently ranked 137 but is targeting a return to the top 50. “My other goal this year is to do some more work with Jetstar. It’s quite rewarding, financially.”
Dokic, confirmed the parting with Glenn Schaap after subduing Czech player Zuzana Ondraskova 6-3, 6-2.
"Yeah, we split half an hour ago, right before the first change of ends in the second set. Nothing special. No hard feelings, you know," she shrugged.
"There are certain people that suit you for your game and for your personality. This was just not one of them. It was all kind of a test period anyway."
There was some confusion as Dokic was seen making the throat slit gesture after converting a break point with a powerful backhand winner.
"That wasn’t directed at Zuzana. I was just letting Glenn know he was fired. I wasn’t really happy with his body language. I make a lot of unforced errors, you know, and I need a coach that will be there for me."
Schaap was seen making a spirited plea to Dokic during a subsequent change of ends, but she made the talking gesture with her hands and was heard to say ‘This is what you’re doing’, after which she held her hand closed and said ‘This is what I want you to do.’
Schaap subsequently stormed off and was later seen eating an ice cream and getting a shoulder massage from Pat Rafter.
Dokic had been coached by Schaap, formerly with Dinara Safina and Nadia Petrova, since the second set tiebreak of a third round match at the French Open last year.
Dokic is currently ranked 137 but is targeting a return to the top 50. “My other goal this year is to do some more work with Jetstar. It’s quite rewarding, financially.”
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Going Nowhere
At the height of the travel book boom, large bookstores had at least three - and in one famous case, eight - different travel writing sections. First off was your standard, just the facts ma'am, guide books - Central Western East Africa on a Velcrostrap, and similar ilk. Then you had your expansive personal accounts of travel - Five Weeks Down the Murrumbidgee on a Flotilla, and so on. Then there were your journeys of inner discovery - I'm Awful, But Some Guy In The Dominican Republic Thinks I'm Great, stuff like that.
Something all these books had in common was the ability of an average schmuck to gain entree into the most exciting and exotic worlds, provided they could read or afford the talking book. Yet here we are, in 2010, and the New York Times Bestseller List contains three travel books that don't fit in any of these categories. What they all share in common is a love for the familiar and mundane - the previously and heretofore ignored. I speak of course of Bret Kingston's Platform 5/6 at Strathfield, Mary and Geoff Buglebury's Uptown Foodcourts I Have Known and the Blintzmans Guide To Freeways With Pedestrian Walkways That Just Stop At Some Point For No Reason.
Let us begin with Kingston's railway missive. To those who have known it, Platform 5/6 at Sydney's inner western Strathfield train station is notable only for its passable toilet and humble food stand (in whose bain marie the same pluto pup once rested for over 4 years, Kingston informs us). Thankfully this situation is remedied by this wonderful book, which takes us into the rich heritage, both human and material, of this colourful platform. Did you know that Jimmy Barnes once lay here unconscious for 6 hours? Or that 12 pigeons died during its construction, compared to only four for platforms 1/2, 3/4 and 7/8 combined? I still shake my head when I think of the reason, fully laid out in Chapter 3.
Undoubtedly my favourite character from this book is Quite A Long Time, the name Kingston gives to a phantom graffitist who left the tag "Quite A Long Time" on various parts of the platform over a two decade stretch of time. Many platform locals claim to have caught glimpses of him either beginning or ending his scrawl, only to have said sighting cut off by the arrival of their train. Even more mysterious is the fact that the platform's three CCT cameras have never recorded even a trace of the man. Kingston indulges in perhaps overlong speculation as to the meaning of Quite A Long Time, settling on the theory that it refers to the amount of time one spends waiting for trains. Quite A Long Time's spiritual torch was subsequently picked up by Eternity, who expanded the canvas to the rest of Sydney, and the public transport referent to buses, ferries and taxis.
Speaking of cabs, next off the rank is the Blintzman Guide's latest plaintive offering, known by its acronym GFWPWTJSASPFNR or in cult circles as 'Gefwipwitch Sasperfener'. I challenge any human with a heart to read this and not be moved, moved in fact to wail deep, visceral tears. We learn about the Cahill Expressway onramp at Crows Nest, which invites lost souls to travel a full 1.3 km before cruelling their hopes and sending them back from whence they came. Then there's the beginning of the westbound M4, something only the most foolhardy or fumigated would try to navigate. Our guides reveal the hidden treasures that await those who would travail its 350 odd metres, including a piece of blue tarp of unknown origin, several vintage cigarette butts, and a hardy weed which when boiled, makes an excellent digestive. Hats off to the folks at Blintzmans for another outstanding work.
I must admit I came away with a mixture of awe and revulsion at Geoff and Mary Buglebury's foodcourt tome. The Bugleburys, who are no relation but are considering starting a band together, document in painstaking detail their experiences of a range of indoor eating areas located between Liverpool and Hunter St in the city. I hope I am not giving too much away in saying that the Bugleburys' greatest accomplishment is referring to each foodcourt as a person - with its own distinctive appearance, personality, social standing and religious beliefs. Raymond is a loner, visited only by a few dozen different people over the course of a year, yet he repays their faith with outstanding meals and an intimate atmosphere. Shelly is a flirt at heart, with her largely male clientele drawn to her dining furniture's seductive curves and a wide offering of oysters and other aphrodisiacs. The revulsion I spoke of earlier was in reference to Pat, a slovenly creature of indeterminate sex, whose leftovers often remain on the table up to three customers later. Pat crowds her space with televisions, poorly drained potplants and garish decorations - yet the crowds keep coming. Just like the soap in Pat's bathroom, this book is indispensable, for anyone seeking to understand modern city worklife.
Each of these books is in its own way unspectacular, workmanlike if you will. But taken together they form an irresistible triumvirate which, for those willing to look, holds the key to the future of literature, society and even travel books. Who dares tell our business elite how to act, if we understand not how they eat? Who could claim to advise on transport policy without at least a cursory knowledge of the pedestrian pitfalls that accompany certain motorways? This knowledge is at times ugly, at times frightening and often beautiful. When the people hunger for knowledge we must give it to them.
Something all these books had in common was the ability of an average schmuck to gain entree into the most exciting and exotic worlds, provided they could read or afford the talking book. Yet here we are, in 2010, and the New York Times Bestseller List contains three travel books that don't fit in any of these categories. What they all share in common is a love for the familiar and mundane - the previously and heretofore ignored. I speak of course of Bret Kingston's Platform 5/6 at Strathfield, Mary and Geoff Buglebury's Uptown Foodcourts I Have Known and the Blintzmans Guide To Freeways With Pedestrian Walkways That Just Stop At Some Point For No Reason.
Let us begin with Kingston's railway missive. To those who have known it, Platform 5/6 at Sydney's inner western Strathfield train station is notable only for its passable toilet and humble food stand (in whose bain marie the same pluto pup once rested for over 4 years, Kingston informs us). Thankfully this situation is remedied by this wonderful book, which takes us into the rich heritage, both human and material, of this colourful platform. Did you know that Jimmy Barnes once lay here unconscious for 6 hours? Or that 12 pigeons died during its construction, compared to only four for platforms 1/2, 3/4 and 7/8 combined? I still shake my head when I think of the reason, fully laid out in Chapter 3.
Undoubtedly my favourite character from this book is Quite A Long Time, the name Kingston gives to a phantom graffitist who left the tag "Quite A Long Time" on various parts of the platform over a two decade stretch of time. Many platform locals claim to have caught glimpses of him either beginning or ending his scrawl, only to have said sighting cut off by the arrival of their train. Even more mysterious is the fact that the platform's three CCT cameras have never recorded even a trace of the man. Kingston indulges in perhaps overlong speculation as to the meaning of Quite A Long Time, settling on the theory that it refers to the amount of time one spends waiting for trains. Quite A Long Time's spiritual torch was subsequently picked up by Eternity, who expanded the canvas to the rest of Sydney, and the public transport referent to buses, ferries and taxis.
Speaking of cabs, next off the rank is the Blintzman Guide's latest plaintive offering, known by its acronym GFWPWTJSASPFNR or in cult circles as 'Gefwipwitch Sasperfener'. I challenge any human with a heart to read this and not be moved, moved in fact to wail deep, visceral tears. We learn about the Cahill Expressway onramp at Crows Nest, which invites lost souls to travel a full 1.3 km before cruelling their hopes and sending them back from whence they came. Then there's the beginning of the westbound M4, something only the most foolhardy or fumigated would try to navigate. Our guides reveal the hidden treasures that await those who would travail its 350 odd metres, including a piece of blue tarp of unknown origin, several vintage cigarette butts, and a hardy weed which when boiled, makes an excellent digestive. Hats off to the folks at Blintzmans for another outstanding work.
I must admit I came away with a mixture of awe and revulsion at Geoff and Mary Buglebury's foodcourt tome. The Bugleburys, who are no relation but are considering starting a band together, document in painstaking detail their experiences of a range of indoor eating areas located between Liverpool and Hunter St in the city. I hope I am not giving too much away in saying that the Bugleburys' greatest accomplishment is referring to each foodcourt as a person - with its own distinctive appearance, personality, social standing and religious beliefs. Raymond is a loner, visited only by a few dozen different people over the course of a year, yet he repays their faith with outstanding meals and an intimate atmosphere. Shelly is a flirt at heart, with her largely male clientele drawn to her dining furniture's seductive curves and a wide offering of oysters and other aphrodisiacs. The revulsion I spoke of earlier was in reference to Pat, a slovenly creature of indeterminate sex, whose leftovers often remain on the table up to three customers later. Pat crowds her space with televisions, poorly drained potplants and garish decorations - yet the crowds keep coming. Just like the soap in Pat's bathroom, this book is indispensable, for anyone seeking to understand modern city worklife.
Each of these books is in its own way unspectacular, workmanlike if you will. But taken together they form an irresistible triumvirate which, for those willing to look, holds the key to the future of literature, society and even travel books. Who dares tell our business elite how to act, if we understand not how they eat? Who could claim to advise on transport policy without at least a cursory knowledge of the pedestrian pitfalls that accompany certain motorways? This knowledge is at times ugly, at times frightening and often beautiful. When the people hunger for knowledge we must give it to them.
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Critic
Poor Stuart was in a conundrum. He was widely acknowledged as a leading critic, someone capable of devastating insight and reviews that rivalled or surpassed the work reviewed as an act of creation.
Yet here he sat, pants around his ankles, boot polish smeared all over his pet goose Retief, his 1991 It's The Hits compilation cassette being chewed up by the player - unable to produce any kind of intelligent response to the book that sat wedged between the manifold folds of his sweaty, cheesy dewlap.
He pressed on.
"Olaf Sundquist's Why I Shaved My Nuts is a singular work that defies description."
No, that won't do. By saying it defies description I've described it somewhat. And calling it singular says more about me than the work... Oh God, help me now!
I need to own this book, to call it by its true name, to place it where it lives and bring the world there to see it as it really is.
In a mad dash for inspiration, he picked up the phone and began blowing the harmonica solo from Stairway To Heaven.
Yet here he sat, pants around his ankles, boot polish smeared all over his pet goose Retief, his 1991 It's The Hits compilation cassette being chewed up by the player - unable to produce any kind of intelligent response to the book that sat wedged between the manifold folds of his sweaty, cheesy dewlap.
He pressed on.
"Olaf Sundquist's Why I Shaved My Nuts is a singular work that defies description."
No, that won't do. By saying it defies description I've described it somewhat. And calling it singular says more about me than the work... Oh God, help me now!
I need to own this book, to call it by its true name, to place it where it lives and bring the world there to see it as it really is.
In a mad dash for inspiration, he picked up the phone and began blowing the harmonica solo from Stairway To Heaven.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Research shows link between intelligence and exercise
Researchers at the Poky Brown School of Hurtingness in Little Altamont, Queensland, have discovered a link between intelligence and exercise.
The findings mean that people wanting to increase their intelligence should exercise more. Conversely, the people who want to increase their exercise should be more intelligent.
Lead researcher Father Shane McElribster said "these results are pretty good, aren't they? Would you like to join us for dinner?" His assistant Dr Lisa Leslie, formerly of the WNBA franchise the Washington Mystics, explained further.
"We took a plastic donut, a pecan nut, a dead rat and former World Bank chief James Wolfensohn, and we ran them through a battery of physical and intelligence tests. The pecan nut came out on top in all of them, although only after the judges dismissed a late complaint by Wolfensohn."
Fellow exercise researcher Yukio Schneiderbrett of Harvard Law School admitted the research looks promising. "It's a really nice result, probably most of all due to the simple and elegant experimental design."
For the rest of us, we can rest easy that there is no link between exercise and intelligence.
Yours truly,
Editor Sarah Walton
The findings mean that people wanting to increase their intelligence should exercise more. Conversely, the people who want to increase their exercise should be more intelligent.
Lead researcher Father Shane McElribster said "these results are pretty good, aren't they? Would you like to join us for dinner?" His assistant Dr Lisa Leslie, formerly of the WNBA franchise the Washington Mystics, explained further.
"We took a plastic donut, a pecan nut, a dead rat and former World Bank chief James Wolfensohn, and we ran them through a battery of physical and intelligence tests. The pecan nut came out on top in all of them, although only after the judges dismissed a late complaint by Wolfensohn."
Fellow exercise researcher Yukio Schneiderbrett of Harvard Law School admitted the research looks promising. "It's a really nice result, probably most of all due to the simple and elegant experimental design."
For the rest of us, we can rest easy that there is no link between exercise and intelligence.
Yours truly,
Editor Sarah Walton
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Aesop's Unpublished Fables
Aesop, his agent Tenpercentos and his publisher Thekla sit around Thekla's desk.
Thekla: I'm confused. The octopus does what with the ferret now?
Tenpercentos: He takes him out of the treasure chest with his tentacles - tentacles two through five inclusive - then -
Aesop: Which is a metaphor, obviously.
Thekla: For?
[Aesop goes to answer but his agent cuts him off]
Tenpercentos: - he hails a water taxi, which are very rare at this time of day.
Aesop: Now you see why I used an octopus rather than a barracuda, as in my earlier draft.
Tenpercentos: Exactly. So the ferret is nursed back to health by the captain, and he feels so indebted to the octopus that he secretly organises a mutiny with the other crew member.
Thekla: A biting indictment on our healthcare system, this I get.
Aesop: No, it's not about that - I just love mutinies. I almost put one in the Tortoise and the Hare, but there were no crews in that.
Tenpercentos: [talking over the top of him] Anyway, the ferret finally tracks the octopus down, but he's hard of hearing by then and can't recognise him.
Thekla: I was moved to tears by this part, I'll grant you.
Tenpercentos: Which brings us to our tragic finale: the octopus and the ferret dance a pas de deux, even though both were kicked out of dance school for truantism.
Aesop: I spent some time on the conclusion, otherwise the message just wouldn't have been clear enough.
Tenpercentos: Now about that advance...
[pause]
Thekla: We're not going to be able to take this, Aesop.
Tenpercentos: What?
Aesop: I knew it.
Thekla: Look, every great writer has been knocked back.
Aesop: She's right, it's no good.
Tenpercentos: After they were best sellers?
Thekla: You ever read My Histories by Herotodus?
Aesop: You mean The Histories.
Thekla: Uh uh. He wrote a thousand pages about a fence dispute with his neighbours. Publishers preprinted 75,000 copies without even reading it. They had to pulp the lot. He never sold another book in his life.
Tenpercentos: Do you know how much money we've made you?
Thekla: For that I am eternally grateful, but you know what the economy is like at the moment.
Aesop: Is it the flashback scene? Where the octopus remembers being bullied by an ageing anglerfish because he has no lure? That's not pivotal to the central message, I can take that out.
Tenpercentos: We'll take out whatever you want.
Aesop: Not whatever you want, but -
Thekla: Look, the creative process is not my forte. But we can't take this.
[Aesop starts sobbing]
Thekla: Take a holiday. I've heard great things about Eastern Persia at this time of year.
Tenpercentos: You know we can shop this around, Thekla.
[Thekla raises her eyebrows]
Aesop: It's okay Tenpercentos. I'm okay.
Tenpercentos: Hang on, we've got more. Have you showed him the Tawny Frogmouthed Owl and the Frog?
Aesop: That's not finished yet.
Tenpercentos: Ok, there's the Wildebeest and the Tick.
Thekla: Gentleman, it's been a pleasure, now if you'll excuse me I've got a three o'clock.
Tenpercentos: [calling more out as they walk out the door] The Bear and the Polyp? The Boy Who Said Sloth Sotto Voce?
Thekla: I'm confused. The octopus does what with the ferret now?
Tenpercentos: He takes him out of the treasure chest with his tentacles - tentacles two through five inclusive - then -
Aesop: Which is a metaphor, obviously.
Thekla: For?
[Aesop goes to answer but his agent cuts him off]
Tenpercentos: - he hails a water taxi, which are very rare at this time of day.
Aesop: Now you see why I used an octopus rather than a barracuda, as in my earlier draft.
Tenpercentos: Exactly. So the ferret is nursed back to health by the captain, and he feels so indebted to the octopus that he secretly organises a mutiny with the other crew member.
Thekla: A biting indictment on our healthcare system, this I get.
Aesop: No, it's not about that - I just love mutinies. I almost put one in the Tortoise and the Hare, but there were no crews in that.
Tenpercentos: [talking over the top of him] Anyway, the ferret finally tracks the octopus down, but he's hard of hearing by then and can't recognise him.
Thekla: I was moved to tears by this part, I'll grant you.
Tenpercentos: Which brings us to our tragic finale: the octopus and the ferret dance a pas de deux, even though both were kicked out of dance school for truantism.
Aesop: I spent some time on the conclusion, otherwise the message just wouldn't have been clear enough.
Tenpercentos: Now about that advance...
[pause]
Thekla: We're not going to be able to take this, Aesop.
Tenpercentos: What?
Aesop: I knew it.
Thekla: Look, every great writer has been knocked back.
Aesop: She's right, it's no good.
Tenpercentos: After they were best sellers?
Thekla: You ever read My Histories by Herotodus?
Aesop: You mean The Histories.
Thekla: Uh uh. He wrote a thousand pages about a fence dispute with his neighbours. Publishers preprinted 75,000 copies without even reading it. They had to pulp the lot. He never sold another book in his life.
Tenpercentos: Do you know how much money we've made you?
Thekla: For that I am eternally grateful, but you know what the economy is like at the moment.
Aesop: Is it the flashback scene? Where the octopus remembers being bullied by an ageing anglerfish because he has no lure? That's not pivotal to the central message, I can take that out.
Tenpercentos: We'll take out whatever you want.
Aesop: Not whatever you want, but -
Thekla: Look, the creative process is not my forte. But we can't take this.
[Aesop starts sobbing]
Thekla: Take a holiday. I've heard great things about Eastern Persia at this time of year.
Tenpercentos: You know we can shop this around, Thekla.
[Thekla raises her eyebrows]
Aesop: It's okay Tenpercentos. I'm okay.
Tenpercentos: Hang on, we've got more. Have you showed him the Tawny Frogmouthed Owl and the Frog?
Aesop: That's not finished yet.
Tenpercentos: Ok, there's the Wildebeest and the Tick.
Thekla: Gentleman, it's been a pleasure, now if you'll excuse me I've got a three o'clock.
Tenpercentos: [calling more out as they walk out the door] The Bear and the Polyp? The Boy Who Said Sloth Sotto Voce?
Monday, October 04, 2010
The Ascent of Science
Our modern understanding of sea level rise can be traced back to Dipsomedes. Like his cousin Archimedes, Dipsomedes was fond of taking baths, in his case mostly because he was so filthy all the time. On one occasion he had stepped out of the bath and was whistling as he dried himself off. He didn't know how to whistle, but the passage of a draught through his wet rolls of fat produced a whistle Otis Redding would be proud of.
He glanced back at the bath and noticed the high water mark, defined by a thick sheen of darkened grease and the rainbow coloured streaks of waterproof crayons he liked to draw in the bath with. Dipsomedes immediately shouted out a catchphrase that was later to be made famous by his cousin: Zeus on a gyro! This was subsequently recorded in history books in the original Greek, so few scientists that utter Eureka today are aware of its theological yet mouthwatering origins.
Although the exact details were not fully worked out for over 2,500 years, Dipsomedes' intuition was essentially correct - sea levels are not fixed, and may wax and wane over the course of a bath, or indeed millenia. Dipsomedes expounded his theory in the needlessly long On the Dermal Expansion of the Seas. Today the treatise is of purely gastronomic significance, containing as it does his mother's recipe for baklava on the back of each page, almost certainly due to a photocopying error.
This story illustrates nicely how many of science's greatest discoveries have been made - in the nude. Charles Darwin successfully cultivated the image of a gentleman scientist, yet those who journeyed with him confessed off the record that his expeditions were little more than trumped up P&O style party cruises. It is said that there wasn't a woman within three hundred nautical miles of the Galapagos that hadn't succumbed to Darwin's famed oratory prowess, and although scant evidence remains, few doubt that Darwin conferred a lot more than just his name upon many of the beautiful finches of the islands.
Then there was Niels Bohr, the great Danish physicist who helped usher in the stranger than fiction world of quantum theory. Bohr was also a vociferous campaigner for the rights of marmosets, and he famously spent the last ten minutes of his Nobel Prize acceptance speech decrying the plight of our evolutionary second cousins. "So they don't have prehensile tails," he would say, "does that give us the right to destroy their habitat? Even I, a genius, have no prehensile tail!" Bohr then dropped his trousers to prove his point, causing many in the Nobel Committee to question the existence of an objective reality.
Bohr would go on to host a biennial man-marmoset three-legged race in the backstreets of his hometown Copenhagen, at which the shared history and future of these two species was underlined by the strict requirement of all participants to fully disrobe. The event was later wound up by angry administrators who claimed Bohr's grandson Tyler was diverting funds to Barbary apes, rhesus monkeys and other members of the macaque family.
He glanced back at the bath and noticed the high water mark, defined by a thick sheen of darkened grease and the rainbow coloured streaks of waterproof crayons he liked to draw in the bath with. Dipsomedes immediately shouted out a catchphrase that was later to be made famous by his cousin: Zeus on a gyro! This was subsequently recorded in history books in the original Greek, so few scientists that utter Eureka today are aware of its theological yet mouthwatering origins.
Although the exact details were not fully worked out for over 2,500 years, Dipsomedes' intuition was essentially correct - sea levels are not fixed, and may wax and wane over the course of a bath, or indeed millenia. Dipsomedes expounded his theory in the needlessly long On the Dermal Expansion of the Seas. Today the treatise is of purely gastronomic significance, containing as it does his mother's recipe for baklava on the back of each page, almost certainly due to a photocopying error.
This story illustrates nicely how many of science's greatest discoveries have been made - in the nude. Charles Darwin successfully cultivated the image of a gentleman scientist, yet those who journeyed with him confessed off the record that his expeditions were little more than trumped up P&O style party cruises. It is said that there wasn't a woman within three hundred nautical miles of the Galapagos that hadn't succumbed to Darwin's famed oratory prowess, and although scant evidence remains, few doubt that Darwin conferred a lot more than just his name upon many of the beautiful finches of the islands.
Then there was Niels Bohr, the great Danish physicist who helped usher in the stranger than fiction world of quantum theory. Bohr was also a vociferous campaigner for the rights of marmosets, and he famously spent the last ten minutes of his Nobel Prize acceptance speech decrying the plight of our evolutionary second cousins. "So they don't have prehensile tails," he would say, "does that give us the right to destroy their habitat? Even I, a genius, have no prehensile tail!" Bohr then dropped his trousers to prove his point, causing many in the Nobel Committee to question the existence of an objective reality.
Bohr would go on to host a biennial man-marmoset three-legged race in the backstreets of his hometown Copenhagen, at which the shared history and future of these two species was underlined by the strict requirement of all participants to fully disrobe. The event was later wound up by angry administrators who claimed Bohr's grandson Tyler was diverting funds to Barbary apes, rhesus monkeys and other members of the macaque family.
Friday, July 30, 2010
The answer
I have finally found it! This is a real boon.
You don't have the answer.
It's not punctuation or thought or breas.
I feel like people are starting to catch up to me, but not really. But it's enough for me to spur myself on and reach the next level. The next level! It's f*cking great to be here.
When did you realise that reality dissolved?
Humans are the best at control. They tell you how things are. I read it.
But you have to take the chance. It's smooth.
It's a simple relationship. Scale of internal life is inversely proportional to scale of external life.
You don't have the answer.
It's not punctuation or thought or breas.
I feel like people are starting to catch up to me, but not really. But it's enough for me to spur myself on and reach the next level. The next level! It's f*cking great to be here.
When did you realise that reality dissolved?
Humans are the best at control. They tell you how things are. I read it.
But you have to take the chance. It's smooth.
It's a simple relationship. Scale of internal life is inversely proportional to scale of external life.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Significant life moments
Do you ever get sick and tired, or fed up? Do you sometimes feel like you're unwell, exhausted, or you've eaten too much? Are you ill, sleepy or full? What about under the weather, bushed or absolutely stuffed? Have you been feeling crook, beat, or overfed lately?
Man, I can't believe the Dogs lost again. I mean, I believe it, I watched it on TV and it would be furthestfetched if they somehow doctored the results and fooled an audience of tens of thousands. But this year they have laid an ugly, painful egg - the egg of poor, unstructured, unimaginative, boring, ill-disciplined and frankly painful football. It's times like these I am glad I no longer care about rugby league. Well that's not entirely true. It's 85-90% true. I care about Ben Barba and Jamal Idris, deeply and passionately on so many levels. You should care too.
So settlement was today, but it still doesn't feel real. And what more can you ask for in life than for something to feel real? After all, if it doesn't feel real, just what does it feel? I mean, how can it be anything, and yet not real?
I haven't contracted World Cup fever to the extent I did in the last two ones. This may be related to Australia's poor performance, with the only bright spark being the incisive performance of the press gallery. I really feel that a solid loss to Ghana will play right into the critic's hands, as their best material comes from pathetic national humiliations such as this.
They have quite a lot of power, the media, I think sometimes they don't realise it. Of course at the end of the day, which is to say ultimately or you know, ignore what I just said and listen to this, the real power lies with... you guessed it - me! I feel very powerful right now. And yet on another, deeper level, any distinction between me and my wife, daughter, family, friends, loved ones, sporting heroes, favourite food, dirty socks and the like, is purely superficial. I can never rebel against nature, or lord my power over it, because I am part of it, nestled deeply and occasionally smotheringly in it's smoking hot bazoombas.
All I ask is that you feel a deep and pleasurable connection with me.
I felt an extraordinary inward jolt of laughing and shock, only partially outwardly manifested, when I strummed E, A, B, then E and my daughter started dancing in what can only be described as a semi-frantic Kindermusik- and In the Night Garden-inspired performance, all bent over and wiggling hands, bouncing to the beat. It may only be described this way.
Lastly, I would like to add that I am gaining an understanding of weather and climate and it feels really good. I especially feel like I understand things when I watch suds drift around in the bath.
Man, I can't believe the Dogs lost again. I mean, I believe it, I watched it on TV and it would be furthestfetched if they somehow doctored the results and fooled an audience of tens of thousands. But this year they have laid an ugly, painful egg - the egg of poor, unstructured, unimaginative, boring, ill-disciplined and frankly painful football. It's times like these I am glad I no longer care about rugby league. Well that's not entirely true. It's 85-90% true. I care about Ben Barba and Jamal Idris, deeply and passionately on so many levels. You should care too.
So settlement was today, but it still doesn't feel real. And what more can you ask for in life than for something to feel real? After all, if it doesn't feel real, just what does it feel? I mean, how can it be anything, and yet not real?
I haven't contracted World Cup fever to the extent I did in the last two ones. This may be related to Australia's poor performance, with the only bright spark being the incisive performance of the press gallery. I really feel that a solid loss to Ghana will play right into the critic's hands, as their best material comes from pathetic national humiliations such as this.
They have quite a lot of power, the media, I think sometimes they don't realise it. Of course at the end of the day, which is to say ultimately or you know, ignore what I just said and listen to this, the real power lies with... you guessed it - me! I feel very powerful right now. And yet on another, deeper level, any distinction between me and my wife, daughter, family, friends, loved ones, sporting heroes, favourite food, dirty socks and the like, is purely superficial. I can never rebel against nature, or lord my power over it, because I am part of it, nestled deeply and occasionally smotheringly in it's smoking hot bazoombas.
All I ask is that you feel a deep and pleasurable connection with me.
I felt an extraordinary inward jolt of laughing and shock, only partially outwardly manifested, when I strummed E, A, B, then E and my daughter started dancing in what can only be described as a semi-frantic Kindermusik- and In the Night Garden-inspired performance, all bent over and wiggling hands, bouncing to the beat. It may only be described this way.
Lastly, I would like to add that I am gaining an understanding of weather and climate and it feels really good. I especially feel like I understand things when I watch suds drift around in the bath.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
At the tennis
Todd Woodbridge: Well Rafa, that was a truly workman-like display out there. Three tight sets, but you never looked out of control. Tell me, how does it feel to win a match at the French? Because I never did.
[Rafael Nadal embraces TW warmly, then lies down on the clay and pulls a blanket over himself]
TW: Well there you have it folks, the finest clay courter I've seen since Andres Gomez, or perhaps more latterly Jarko Nieminen. Please stay tuned, because our very own Sam Stosur, whom I once shared an informal mentoring association with during my stint as Federation Cup Treasurer, will be shooting for her very first grand slam final next on centre court.
[TW lies down on the clay and pulls out a Matthew Reilly book and starts reading until he dozes off. Meanwhile, Stosur and Jankovic enter the court and respectfully sidestep the sleeping past and present giants of tennis. Until a pivotal moment in the third set, that is, when Jankovic loses her cool over a clearly fluffed line call and smashes her racket into Todd Woodbridges back]
TW: AAARRRRGGGHH! [TW returns to sleep after Jankovic pulls his covers back over him]
[Rafael Nadal embraces TW warmly, then lies down on the clay and pulls a blanket over himself]
TW: Well there you have it folks, the finest clay courter I've seen since Andres Gomez, or perhaps more latterly Jarko Nieminen. Please stay tuned, because our very own Sam Stosur, whom I once shared an informal mentoring association with during my stint as Federation Cup Treasurer, will be shooting for her very first grand slam final next on centre court.
[TW lies down on the clay and pulls out a Matthew Reilly book and starts reading until he dozes off. Meanwhile, Stosur and Jankovic enter the court and respectfully sidestep the sleeping past and present giants of tennis. Until a pivotal moment in the third set, that is, when Jankovic loses her cool over a clearly fluffed line call and smashes her racket into Todd Woodbridges back]
TW: AAARRRRGGGHH! [TW returns to sleep after Jankovic pulls his covers back over him]
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Three Zen koans
A Zen master was painting a portrait of the Buddha, when a student approached and asked ‘is that the Buddha?’. The master gave him a stiff blow, then returned to his palette.
A Zen master was giving a stiff blow to a student, when the student asked for mercy. The Zen master agreed to give the student mercy, but only after giving him another stiff blow.
A student was convalescing in hospital when a Zen master popped by and asked how he was. ‘Look what you did to me, you maniac!’ the student said. The Master replied that inner peace could not be achieved in such a state of consciousness, so he pulled the plug.
A Zen master was giving a stiff blow to a student, when the student asked for mercy. The Zen master agreed to give the student mercy, but only after giving him another stiff blow.
A student was convalescing in hospital when a Zen master popped by and asked how he was. ‘Look what you did to me, you maniac!’ the student said. The Master replied that inner peace could not be achieved in such a state of consciousness, so he pulled the plug.
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