:: Sunday, July 31, 2005
PMSL
There is a God and She is very good :-)
Asswipe is selling what is left of his smacked up MG Midget car on Trade Me. He's been trying to sell both sets of his MG personalised plates for weeks and no one wants them, now he's trying to sell off the rest of his latest fuck up as well. It's almost a year since he smashed it up last time and spent well in excess of $5K to get it fixed and on the road for Targa last year, even though he couldn't pay me wages he owed me because all his company couldn't afford it - hardly surprising when all the money was going into his precious race car, and now his race car is all pranged up.
Oh dear, how sad, good fucking job. It couldn't happen to a more deserving wanker.
This is what it looked like last time he fell off the road.
At least he didn't have his 12 year old daughter in the car then, unlike this time. Kids have no place co-piloting a race car.
One of his adverts says "selling due to change of model". From the some of what else he is selling it looks like he is going to race the MR2 instead. Maybe he just doesn't have the balls to fix and drive the Midget again; perhaps he thinks it's trying to kill him.
Perhaps it is. He should have called it "Christine".
I wonder what poor sucker he's screwing around with now? 
Asswipe is selling what is left of his smacked up MG Midget car on Trade Me. He's been trying to sell both sets of his MG personalised plates for weeks and no one wants them, now he's trying to sell off the rest of his latest fuck up as well. It's almost a year since he smashed it up last time and spent well in excess of $5K to get it fixed and on the road for Targa last year, even though he couldn't pay me wages he owed me because all his company couldn't afford it - hardly surprising when all the money was going into his precious race car, and now his race car is all pranged up.
Oh dear, how sad, good fucking job. It couldn't happen to a more deserving wanker.
This is what it looked like last time he fell off the road.
At least he didn't have his 12 year old daughter in the car then, unlike this time. Kids have no place co-piloting a race car.
One of his adverts says "selling due to change of model". From the some of what else he is selling it looks like he is going to race the MR2 instead. Maybe he just doesn't have the balls to fix and drive the Midget again; perhaps he thinks it's trying to kill him.
Perhaps it is. He should have called it "Christine".
I wonder what poor sucker he's screwing around with now?
:: Friday, July 29, 2005
No place like home
I had a bad night. I had a bad day.
I'm not having a good week, either.
The Exacerbator is in the house, my MS is giving itself a good stretch and I am having an darn good flare up.
The pains in my head, the legs that won't work very well, the fatigue and the nausea - none of them worry me half as much as the pains in my eye.
My good eye.
The word "why" has become a frequent visitor in my head lately. Like "why did I waste so much time doing so many things for nothing?" and "why is my coffee cup always empty?"; "why did I choose to live my life the way I have?" and "why do people say gravity is real when we all know the Earth sucks?" and the really big one - "why is there never a parking space close to where you want to go?".
I’m looking for answers from the great beyond. And I'm not finding any. Do you know where some might be?
Nah, course you don't or you wouldn't be wasting time reading this tripe :-D
Never mind, you can always stay home when you can't go anywhere else.
Reading: "God's Callgirl" - Carla Van Raay (don't ask me to critique it; it won't be very complimentary; ok, it's crap)
Listening to: R.E.M
I’m pushing an elephant up the stairs
I’m tossing up punchlines that were never there - R.E.M
I'm not having a good week, either.
The Exacerbator is in the house, my MS is giving itself a good stretch and I am having an darn good flare up.
The pains in my head, the legs that won't work very well, the fatigue and the nausea - none of them worry me half as much as the pains in my eye.
My good eye.
The word "why" has become a frequent visitor in my head lately. Like "why did I waste so much time doing so many things for nothing?" and "why is my coffee cup always empty?"; "why did I choose to live my life the way I have?" and "why do people say gravity is real when we all know the Earth sucks?" and the really big one - "why is there never a parking space close to where you want to go?".
I’m looking for answers from the great beyond. And I'm not finding any. Do you know where some might be?
Nah, course you don't or you wouldn't be wasting time reading this tripe :-D
Never mind, you can always stay home when you can't go anywhere else.
Reading: "God's Callgirl" - Carla Van Raay (don't ask me to critique it; it won't be very complimentary; ok, it's crap)
Listening to: R.E.M
I’m pushing an elephant up the stairs
I’m tossing up punchlines that were never there - R.E.M
:: Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Crapons
Did ya see I fixed the blog? No more big empty spaces. I selected a new template and then customised it again cos I got sick of waiting for blogger staff's promise to be fulfilled to fix the code for all us poor schmucks affected by it.
Bet it's better from your side of the screen as well.
Today I felt like I've been crapped on by elephants. Well, I am guessing that I felt as I would had I been crapped on by elephants. I should check with Mark - he is sure to know what elephant crap feels like.
I hopped into bed for a wee snooze at 9.30 last night, expecting to get up again a little later (as I commonly do) and instead woke up at 5.30am. Of course, at the time I nodded off I was feeling like I'd been crapped on by some other very large, shitty animals as well.
I'm not very keen on shit sandwiches and my plate appears to be quite full.
I've been burning things on Ol' Shitbox's new DVD writer and I'm using Nero to do it. I always hated Nero. So far I have copied a movie and next I have to learn more about authoring karaoke files for Reg and burning them to DVD. I'm wallowing (or is that drowning) in trial software downloaded for that task and while there may be a lot of apps out there to choose from, it seems that 90% of it is fit only for bypassing the recycle bin (and that's where an awful lot of it has been ending up).
Speaking of Nero, throughout history this one time Emperor of Rome has been accused of setting alight the city on July 18th 64AD and playing silly buggers while it was reduced to ash. Hasn't everyone heard that "Nero fiddled while Rome burned"?
This little gem has never been proved, in fact there are reports that say he did exactly the opposite - that he helped direct efforts to put out the flames. Mind you, they did live strange lives and die exotic deaths back then.
Nero is an interesting character (if you like blokes that wear laurel wreaths in their hair and fiddle with themselves). He became Emperor at the age of 16 and shortly thereafter killed his wife and mother, watched Rome burn at the age of 26 and killed himself at age 32 when the Roman Senate denounced him as an "enemy of the State."
Boys will be boys. These days, we don't even let them have the keys to our car at 16, let alone keys to the Empire.
I have been reading Adam's file today. It's a record of his classroom progress, tests and projects and stuff. All duly marked and commented on by his teacher. In it is a project he did a few months ago about family and ancestry, the family tree and stuff like that combined with a trip to a cemetery to look at gravestones and record "data" to analyse and present their findings in a graph.
On the marking sheet, there is is an assessment of how well he knows his "whakapapa" and I am severely pissed off about it for 2 reasons.
#1 is that with his father currently all but persona non-grata here and not easily consulted with prior to that, Adam doesn't have a lot of knowledge of, or access to the answer to a question about the names and birthplaces of his father's parents and grandparents. And that would, of course, be assuming that anyone in this house gave a flying fuck anyway.
So how do kids get on that Mum just popped a bundle as a result of some drunken one night stand and no one even knows who Daddy was? And since when did knowing your family tree have any relevance to anything remotely important in a school setting to the point where it is marked as having been "achieved"? I thought they were there to learn maths and spelling and English and social studies, not some ridiculous Maoritanga and their "whakapapa".
#2 is this whole "Whakapapa" thing.
Adam is of European decent; Irish/Scottish/Scandinavian/German yada yada yada. Good pedigree European mongrels with NO Maori in there. I'm not Maori and I don't have a whakapapa and neither does Adam. I have a family tree and I have a line a thousand years old too (one that doesn't include cannibalism, I might add), so why the hell do we need their interpretation and their bloody name for it?
I find all this bogus Maoritanga political correctness creeping insidiously into everyday life bloody offensive.
But the biggest piss off of all is her commenting on his lack of spelling progress whilst boldly proclaiming his name, incorrectly spelt on the spine and the title page of his official class file.
I find that pretty damned offensive as well. Stupid cow.
Bet it's better from your side of the screen as well.
Today I felt like I've been crapped on by elephants. Well, I am guessing that I felt as I would had I been crapped on by elephants. I should check with Mark - he is sure to know what elephant crap feels like.
I hopped into bed for a wee snooze at 9.30 last night, expecting to get up again a little later (as I commonly do) and instead woke up at 5.30am. Of course, at the time I nodded off I was feeling like I'd been crapped on by some other very large, shitty animals as well.
I'm not very keen on shit sandwiches and my plate appears to be quite full.
I've been burning things on Ol' Shitbox's new DVD writer and I'm using Nero to do it. I always hated Nero. So far I have copied a movie and next I have to learn more about authoring karaoke files for Reg and burning them to DVD. I'm wallowing (or is that drowning) in trial software downloaded for that task and while there may be a lot of apps out there to choose from, it seems that 90% of it is fit only for bypassing the recycle bin (and that's where an awful lot of it has been ending up).
Speaking of Nero, throughout history this one time Emperor of Rome has been accused of setting alight the city on July 18th 64AD and playing silly buggers while it was reduced to ash. Hasn't everyone heard that "Nero fiddled while Rome burned"?
This little gem has never been proved, in fact there are reports that say he did exactly the opposite - that he helped direct efforts to put out the flames. Mind you, they did live strange lives and die exotic deaths back then.
Nero is an interesting character (if you like blokes that wear laurel wreaths in their hair and fiddle with themselves). He became Emperor at the age of 16 and shortly thereafter killed his wife and mother, watched Rome burn at the age of 26 and killed himself at age 32 when the Roman Senate denounced him as an "enemy of the State."
Boys will be boys. These days, we don't even let them have the keys to our car at 16, let alone keys to the Empire.
I have been reading Adam's file today. It's a record of his classroom progress, tests and projects and stuff. All duly marked and commented on by his teacher. In it is a project he did a few months ago about family and ancestry, the family tree and stuff like that combined with a trip to a cemetery to look at gravestones and record "data" to analyse and present their findings in a graph.
On the marking sheet, there is is an assessment of how well he knows his "whakapapa" and I am severely pissed off about it for 2 reasons.
#1 is that with his father currently all but persona non-grata here and not easily consulted with prior to that, Adam doesn't have a lot of knowledge of, or access to the answer to a question about the names and birthplaces of his father's parents and grandparents. And that would, of course, be assuming that anyone in this house gave a flying fuck anyway.
So how do kids get on that Mum just popped a bundle as a result of some drunken one night stand and no one even knows who Daddy was? And since when did knowing your family tree have any relevance to anything remotely important in a school setting to the point where it is marked as having been "achieved"? I thought they were there to learn maths and spelling and English and social studies, not some ridiculous Maoritanga and their "whakapapa".
#2 is this whole "Whakapapa" thing.
Adam is of European decent; Irish/Scottish/Scandinavian/German yada yada yada. Good pedigree European mongrels with NO Maori in there. I'm not Maori and I don't have a whakapapa and neither does Adam. I have a family tree and I have a line a thousand years old too (one that doesn't include cannibalism, I might add), so why the hell do we need their interpretation and their bloody name for it?
I find all this bogus Maoritanga political correctness creeping insidiously into everyday life bloody offensive.
But the biggest piss off of all is her commenting on his lack of spelling progress whilst boldly proclaiming his name, incorrectly spelt on the spine and the title page of his official class file.
I find that pretty damned offensive as well. Stupid cow.
:: Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Download
Having trouble downloading from the internet?
You might need a bigger hard drive ;-P
You might need a bigger hard drive ;-P
:: Monday, July 25, 2005
Birthday suit
It's Adam's birthday today. My baby is 12.
Happy birthday, mate :-)
Yesterday was 2 years since the dog ate him. His scars are still very noticable.
Happy birthday, mate :-)
Yesterday was 2 years since the dog ate him. His scars are still very noticable.
:: Sunday, July 24, 2005
Doggone
Reasons why dogs shouldn't wear Simpsons boxers #3
:: Saturday, July 23, 2005
Mixed bag
Did you miss me yesterday?
We went up country a ways for some R&R with friends. We went visiting our other friends while we were there. More friends arrived from Auckland so there were lots of friends all in one place. And one of these friends brought her Mustang to visit and she let me drive it.
And then the kids had a drive, too.
Driving from the wrong side of the right side of the road is fun, more fun that doing it as a driving instructor. At least this time I had all the controls. You know, everyone should have a 1973 Mach 1 Mustang in their front yard. Shows a bit of class, that does.
Does so.
We had this lovely time with everyone last night and decided to stay for a big dinner tonight before driving home, so there were kids and adults everywhere (and one large, stuffed 30" tall Spiderman with huge abs, rather similar to this one)
and dogs (the cats had more sense than lurk where dogs and kids are) so I threw Nushie out of the dining room so no one would stand on her. This one,
Doofus O'Diddle
rounding up the table was kind of enough.
Nushie went off and sulked somewhere out of the way like a good dog does.
We ate dinner and halfway through dishing up dessert, the Lady of the House rushed off down the hallway in the dark to get some ice cream and tripped over Nushka hiding out of everyone's way. With the Lady of the House lying motionless on the hall carpet, dessert was kind of over before it began, although those who hadn't had any yet eventually served and ate theirs while standing around waiting for the ambulance. Then we did the dishes and tidied everything up while the ambos were pumping large doses of pain relief into the Lady of the House so that they could move her, and 45 minutes later when the ambulance left for the hospital with the Lady of the House aboard we gassed up the car and, driving into the big moon, we came home.
The Lady of the House has now been released from hospital.
Hell of a way to get out of the washing up, Jude :-)
PS, apparently people look at you very strangely if you carry a 30" tall stuffed Spiderman into A&E. Isn't that funny?
We went up country a ways for some R&R with friends. We went visiting our other friends while we were there. More friends arrived from Auckland so there were lots of friends all in one place. And one of these friends brought her Mustang to visit and she let me drive it.
And then the kids had a drive, too.
Driving from the wrong side of the right side of the road is fun, more fun that doing it as a driving instructor. At least this time I had all the controls. You know, everyone should have a 1973 Mach 1 Mustang in their front yard. Shows a bit of class, that does.
Does so.
We had this lovely time with everyone last night and decided to stay for a big dinner tonight before driving home, so there were kids and adults everywhere (and one large, stuffed 30" tall Spiderman with huge abs, rather similar to this one)
and dogs (the cats had more sense than lurk where dogs and kids are) so I threw Nushie out of the dining room so no one would stand on her. This one,
Doofus O'Diddle
rounding up the table was kind of enough.
Nushie went off and sulked somewhere out of the way like a good dog does.
We ate dinner and halfway through dishing up dessert, the Lady of the House rushed off down the hallway in the dark to get some ice cream and tripped over Nushka hiding out of everyone's way. With the Lady of the House lying motionless on the hall carpet, dessert was kind of over before it began, although those who hadn't had any yet eventually served and ate theirs while standing around waiting for the ambulance. Then we did the dishes and tidied everything up while the ambos were pumping large doses of pain relief into the Lady of the House so that they could move her, and 45 minutes later when the ambulance left for the hospital with the Lady of the House aboard we gassed up the car and, driving into the big moon, we came home.
The Lady of the House has now been released from hospital.
Hell of a way to get out of the washing up, Jude :-)
PS, apparently people look at you very strangely if you carry a 30" tall stuffed Spiderman into A&E. Isn't that funny?
:: Thursday, July 21, 2005
In my drawers
I have some very exciting things in my drawers.
Most of it is stuff like software and library cards, hard drives and pens and screwdrivers and old polytech ID cards and shit like that. But I also have this
My father's aunt gave two of these (not a matching pair) to him when her husband died. At the moment, this is the only one I can find. Adam likes them too, you see.
Funny that.
I've had a productive day today. I have this old IBM P166 PC in the front office; it used to be the kids games machine and before that it was my linux box (and the kids hooked right into linux games). Then I scalped the hard drive out of it (and the CDROM and the floppy drive) and left it sitting for 3 years with no cover on, gathering dust and junk and bits of hardware in it and on it like some forgotten wounded soldier. But today I looked at it for the millionth time and decided to either make it go or strip it and throw it in the rubbish.
I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and an old toothbrush and set to work on the dining table, relentlessly removing bits and scrubbing the shit out of them and the motherboard, then sucking up the crap until at last you could actually see what colour was under there. Then I threw an old hard drive in, nicked the kids CDROM and dug out a floppy drive and put it up on the kids desk and plugged it in.
And it fucking went. Just like that.
I formatted the drive, loaded up Windows 98 and while I was waiting hunted through the drawers full of bits and pieces in there, found another 64 meg of RAM and after it was all installed shoved the RAM in (hoping it was somwhere close to compatible) and rebooted. Off it went like a scalded cat with its 144 meg and loaded as fast as the kids PIII 800 does and was browsing the network in a flash.
Now the kids have a second games machine for all their old DOS and Windows games and I might get some peace and quiet - if I can find somewhere to set it up that a network cable can reach, that is.
It's full moon out there tonight, and a beautiful moon it is too.
The sky is clear, no wind, no traffic noise out there, just the smell of woodfires and this beautiful big orb hanging in the sky.
Luverly :-)
LATE BREAKING NEWS:
Those fornicating motherless rock-hatched bastards are at it again in London. The TV is reporting possible explosions, detonations and nail bombs involving trains and a bus.
I can think of a few uses for nails, if that's the case.
Crucifixion can be a good thing.
Most of it is stuff like software and library cards, hard drives and pens and screwdrivers and old polytech ID cards and shit like that. But I also have this
My father's aunt gave two of these (not a matching pair) to him when her husband died. At the moment, this is the only one I can find. Adam likes them too, you see.
Funny that.
I've had a productive day today. I have this old IBM P166 PC in the front office; it used to be the kids games machine and before that it was my linux box (and the kids hooked right into linux games). Then I scalped the hard drive out of it (and the CDROM and the floppy drive) and left it sitting for 3 years with no cover on, gathering dust and junk and bits of hardware in it and on it like some forgotten wounded soldier. But today I looked at it for the millionth time and decided to either make it go or strip it and throw it in the rubbish.
I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and an old toothbrush and set to work on the dining table, relentlessly removing bits and scrubbing the shit out of them and the motherboard, then sucking up the crap until at last you could actually see what colour was under there. Then I threw an old hard drive in, nicked the kids CDROM and dug out a floppy drive and put it up on the kids desk and plugged it in.
And it fucking went. Just like that.
I formatted the drive, loaded up Windows 98 and while I was waiting hunted through the drawers full of bits and pieces in there, found another 64 meg of RAM and after it was all installed shoved the RAM in (hoping it was somwhere close to compatible) and rebooted. Off it went like a scalded cat with its 144 meg and loaded as fast as the kids PIII 800 does and was browsing the network in a flash.
Now the kids have a second games machine for all their old DOS and Windows games and I might get some peace and quiet - if I can find somewhere to set it up that a network cable can reach, that is.
It's full moon out there tonight, and a beautiful moon it is too.
The sky is clear, no wind, no traffic noise out there, just the smell of woodfires and this beautiful big orb hanging in the sky.
Luverly :-)
LATE BREAKING NEWS:
Those fornicating motherless rock-hatched bastards are at it again in London. The TV is reporting possible explosions, detonations and nail bombs involving trains and a bus.
I can think of a few uses for nails, if that's the case.
Crucifixion can be a good thing.
:: Wednesday, July 20, 2005
If wishes were horses...
I still wish I had waist length, bright purple hair.
I do miss my long hair.
Happy birthday Reg - 77 and we still trying to knock you off.
"If wishes were horses then beggars would ride"
I do miss my long hair.
Happy birthday Reg - 77 and we still trying to knock you off.
"If wishes were horses then beggars would ride"
:: Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Revolting
Last night I started, and this morning I finished a book by James A. Michener called "Bridge at Andau". This one intrigued me right from the moment I bought it simply because it was a small, slim and unobtrusive book so unlike the brash and epic novels he usually wrote. As a writer who generally had a lot to say, I figured small was probably going to equal pithy. And it was.
This one is intended to be read as a documentary, not a cleverly definitive novel like "Chesapeake" or "Colorado". This one is about the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 and the closing pages of the book are written from the first person perspective of someone who witnessed the closing days.
Now, I've always been a history nut and I am damned sure that we were never taught anything about this one at school. And I think we should have been.
This book outlines the living conditions and constraints of a country enslaved by Communism, the lies told to them, the life denied them and the brutal measures used in the oppression of the people of Hungary. It tells of the beatings and the torture of those who would remain loyal to their country. It tells of the flight of tens of thousands people through the swamps at the bridge at Andau as they fled into Austria to escape the shelling and the shooting and the liklihood of sudden death.
It also vividly recounts the acts of death defying bravery committed by even young children in repelling a marauding war machine at the height of the Revolution as they destroyed Russian tanks with only petrol bombs and pieces of pipe.
It shows the might and the menace of the power that Russia held over the Eastern Bloc in the years following the second world war.
Not a lot has changed, really.
It was a damned good read.
This one is intended to be read as a documentary, not a cleverly definitive novel like "Chesapeake" or "Colorado". This one is about the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 and the closing pages of the book are written from the first person perspective of someone who witnessed the closing days.
Now, I've always been a history nut and I am damned sure that we were never taught anything about this one at school. And I think we should have been.
This book outlines the living conditions and constraints of a country enslaved by Communism, the lies told to them, the life denied them and the brutal measures used in the oppression of the people of Hungary. It tells of the beatings and the torture of those who would remain loyal to their country. It tells of the flight of tens of thousands people through the swamps at the bridge at Andau as they fled into Austria to escape the shelling and the shooting and the liklihood of sudden death.
It also vividly recounts the acts of death defying bravery committed by even young children in repelling a marauding war machine at the height of the Revolution as they destroyed Russian tanks with only petrol bombs and pieces of pipe.
It shows the might and the menace of the power that Russia held over the Eastern Bloc in the years following the second world war.
Not a lot has changed, really.
It was a damned good read.
:: Monday, July 18, 2005
Arse about face pt1
The dyslexic bus stop in Fraser Street.
I'll come back to this.
If I remember.
In the meantime, because I finished the shit-hot novel about British fighter pilots in WWII, I'm now 2/3 of the way through a book by Richard Bach and don't know whether to think it's brilliant or crap. It's light, it's peppered with lovely little positively-affirming and inspiring quotations. It's also not a big book. So tonight I went searching for info about him and his books. I have only ever seen one other of his books (Jonathon Livingston Seagull) and never read it. So, in this novel I'm reading, called One, he is proposing that he and his real life wife are totally soul mates as they discover that in our Father's house are indeed many mansions, only they are all being lived in concurrently by concurrent doppelgangers with whom they can speak and advise, learn from and interact. Their strong love for each other and deep spiritual and marital bond is a constant feature as he portrays them as themselves, with the addition of another "them" condensed into One body, at One with the universe. Called Pye.
There are people who consider this guy a spiritual guru, you know.
"One" is an imaginative allegory for the human condition. But the main characters are divorced now, in real life so what does that make Pye?
Back to the writer's block for you, Richard.
I'll come back to this.
If I remember.
In the meantime, because I finished the shit-hot novel about British fighter pilots in WWII, I'm now 2/3 of the way through a book by Richard Bach and don't know whether to think it's brilliant or crap. It's light, it's peppered with lovely little positively-affirming and inspiring quotations. It's also not a big book. So tonight I went searching for info about him and his books. I have only ever seen one other of his books (Jonathon Livingston Seagull) and never read it. So, in this novel I'm reading, called One, he is proposing that he and his real life wife are totally soul mates as they discover that in our Father's house are indeed many mansions, only they are all being lived in concurrently by concurrent doppelgangers with whom they can speak and advise, learn from and interact. Their strong love for each other and deep spiritual and marital bond is a constant feature as he portrays them as themselves, with the addition of another "them" condensed into One body, at One with the universe. Called Pye.
There are people who consider this guy a spiritual guru, you know.
"One" is an imaginative allegory for the human condition. But the main characters are divorced now, in real life so what does that make Pye?
Back to the writer's block for you, Richard.
:: Sunday, July 17, 2005
A sermon from near The Mount
While we're on this Biblical theme, do you know Noah's lineage? He was a real bignote, Noah was. First Family stuff. I wonder if he begat the Kennedys, somewhere down the line?. Shona Laing wrote a cool song about them - Glad I'm Not A Kennedy. A very talented lady; I really like Shona Laing. Reg doesn't like her. Anyway, we all know the Kennedys, recognise them as the First Family of (American) First Families and authors of the book on political sex, drugs, hollywood actresses and gunmen. Oh, and money. Pots and pots of money. I read a book all about them once, it was very interesting. Reg doesn't like the Kennedys, either.
Anyway, back to Noah's paternity. I have it on very good authority that the family tree looks like this. OK, the internet told me. Their names and ages at death were:
Adam - 930
Seth - 920
Enos - 905
Cainan - 910
Mahalaleel - 895
Jared - 962
Enoch - never died
Methuselah - 969 (died the year of the Flood)
Lamech - 777
Noah
That's some kinda name dropping, huh.
In 1947 were discovered the first of the Dead Sea Scrolls. One of the texts found between 1947 and 1956 was the Book of Enoch, one of the apocryphal lost books of the Bible, if the Church is to be believed. And the Book of Enoch (as well as the Flood) features prominently in the writings of Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas in their book, Uriel's Machine.
And so we come right round in a drunken circle to flooding. Which is what they are having in Auckland and the Coromandel tonight with the thunder, lightning and torrential downpours keeping most people inside and out of the wet. I'm hoping it will get here and give us a cool lightshow. I might even get some video footage like that last lot I posted.
In the meantime, I'm
Reading: A shit-hot novel about British fighter pilots in WWII
Listening to: Christy Moore
The Mount. It's raining here, too.
Have you noticed how I do at least try to curb the impulse to constantly jump laterally from the supposed topic?
Anyway, back to Noah's paternity. I have it on very good authority that the family tree looks like this. OK, the internet told me. Their names and ages at death were:
Adam - 930
Seth - 920
Enos - 905
Cainan - 910
Mahalaleel - 895
Jared - 962
Enoch - never died
Methuselah - 969 (died the year of the Flood)
Lamech - 777
Noah
That's some kinda name dropping, huh.
In 1947 were discovered the first of the Dead Sea Scrolls. One of the texts found between 1947 and 1956 was the Book of Enoch, one of the apocryphal lost books of the Bible, if the Church is to be believed. And the Book of Enoch (as well as the Flood) features prominently in the writings of Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas in their book, Uriel's Machine.
And so we come right round in a drunken circle to flooding. Which is what they are having in Auckland and the Coromandel tonight with the thunder, lightning and torrential downpours keeping most people inside and out of the wet. I'm hoping it will get here and give us a cool lightshow. I might even get some video footage like that last lot I posted.
In the meantime, I'm
Reading: A shit-hot novel about British fighter pilots in WWII
Listening to: Christy Moore
The Mount. It's raining here, too.
Have you noticed how I do at least try to curb the impulse to constantly jump laterally from the supposed topic?
:: Saturday, July 16, 2005
More wetticisms
Continuing the flood and water theme, I was just thinking that the world would be a different place if Noah had just had some balls and told God "No, I am not building a bloody Ark, so you can't start the rains after all".
I blame Noah for the whole flood thing.
Here's a Gods-eye view of us. It shows that after 12,000 years, there's still plenty of mopping up to be done.
Now, about that "Act of God" clause crap in our insurance policies...
I blame Noah for the whole flood thing.
Here's a Gods-eye view of us. It shows that after 12,000 years, there's still plenty of mopping up to be done.
Now, about that "Act of God" clause crap in our insurance policies...
:: Friday, July 15, 2005
Clean and classy
Remember how I was bitching a while back about my cleaner who couldn't even clean the kitchen floor properly?
NOT A PROBLEM. Not now. The dishwasher hose burst in the night and flooded the kitchen and hallway carpet so now its as clean as clean can be.
Unlike Graeme Capill. He only got 9 years. And when he's done his short time behind bars, he'll still be a dirty bastard. No amount of flooding will ever wash him clean.
"Capill swayed back and forth in the dock, with his head bowed and his face riven with emotion, as the judge summarised the rapes, sexual violations and indecent assaults on girls aged between five and 11 that occurred over a span roughly coinciding with Capill's leadership of the party.
The judge variously described the offending as disgraceful, grave, violent and cruel, but he reserved particular condemnation for the comments Capill made in an email to supporters just over two weeks ago that suggested some of the sexual offending was consensual. "You have some remorse ... but I consider your remorse is substantially discounted by your email of June 27 where you in effect make mention of matters which, quite frankly, I find, bearing in mind your intelligence, quite unusual," the judge said.
"It's nonsense to say there could be consent. What you did was premeditated.
"You told the probation officer you were feeling lust and excitement when you were with (the victim). You had a high level of sexual arousal and your purpose was to get her to the point where she wanted sexual intercourse."
I think they should tie him to a tree outside a primary school for a few months; make baseball bats available for the use of those who feel it appropriate. Hell, his "wife, who remains supportive" can even hire them out with all proceeds going to the kids he hurt.
THEN sling what's left of his sick ass in jail.
NOT A PROBLEM. Not now. The dishwasher hose burst in the night and flooded the kitchen and hallway carpet so now its as clean as clean can be.
Unlike Graeme Capill. He only got 9 years. And when he's done his short time behind bars, he'll still be a dirty bastard. No amount of flooding will ever wash him clean.
"Capill swayed back and forth in the dock, with his head bowed and his face riven with emotion, as the judge summarised the rapes, sexual violations and indecent assaults on girls aged between five and 11 that occurred over a span roughly coinciding with Capill's leadership of the party.
The judge variously described the offending as disgraceful, grave, violent and cruel, but he reserved particular condemnation for the comments Capill made in an email to supporters just over two weeks ago that suggested some of the sexual offending was consensual. "You have some remorse ... but I consider your remorse is substantially discounted by your email of June 27 where you in effect make mention of matters which, quite frankly, I find, bearing in mind your intelligence, quite unusual," the judge said.
"It's nonsense to say there could be consent. What you did was premeditated.
"You told the probation officer you were feeling lust and excitement when you were with (the victim). You had a high level of sexual arousal and your purpose was to get her to the point where she wanted sexual intercourse."
I think they should tie him to a tree outside a primary school for a few months; make baseball bats available for the use of those who feel it appropriate. Hell, his "wife, who remains supportive" can even hire them out with all proceeds going to the kids he hurt.
THEN sling what's left of his sick ass in jail.
:: Thursday, July 14, 2005
Drugs
I went to the doctor today and now I have these pills to take.
I must be sick.
Not as sick as I was, though, cos this time it took 2.5 days for a cold to turn into a chest infection where as it used to take 24 hours so my Claytons immune system must have done something useful for a change. Never mind, by tomorrow I'll have no more sinus pain, my will have stopped hurting and I'll only have 9 more days of the drugs to take.
And I won't be coughing chunky spitballs at the monitor, either.
Bulls-eye
PS - Why is it that those dumb TV programmes like Motorway Patrol and stuff have friendly polis-men on the street talking nicely to the really pissed bloke with no rego, WOF or license, but the ones that stop you in a WOF check roadblock on Fraser Street look at you like you just tried to run them down??
(I didn't even, honest, my WOF is up to date.)
Oh yeah, I know why; TV cameras.
Happy Bastille Day, France.
I must be sick.
Not as sick as I was, though, cos this time it took 2.5 days for a cold to turn into a chest infection where as it used to take 24 hours so my Claytons immune system must have done something useful for a change. Never mind, by tomorrow I'll have no more sinus pain, my will have stopped hurting and I'll only have 9 more days of the drugs to take.
And I won't be coughing chunky spitballs at the monitor, either.
Bulls-eye
PS - Why is it that those dumb TV programmes like Motorway Patrol and stuff have friendly polis-men on the street talking nicely to the really pissed bloke with no rego, WOF or license, but the ones that stop you in a WOF check roadblock on Fraser Street look at you like you just tried to run them down??
(I didn't even, honest, my WOF is up to date.)
Oh yeah, I know why; TV cameras.
Happy Bastille Day, France.
:: Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Badge of Honour
It's tomorrow when Im writing this even though I'm writing this like it's today, cos I already posted a post for today yesterday so decided that yesterday could be tomorrow depending on which side of the dateline you happen to be.
Stop whining, if I can understand it, you can.
My nose is all stuffed up. So is my head. The rest of me doesn't feel so shit-got either, Adam and I both have a cold and I'm wearing that stuffed-up-face-look like a badge. Or a warning sign. So I don't feel so great, in fact I think an additional herd of buffalo might have traipsed across me this morning.
It's been pouring with rain and cold all day and I have been playing Escape games to fill in the vertical time.
Games like this one - Escape the Museum.
.
I had lots of fun playing this one. You can play it too at Anode and Cathode.
We watched a bit of Bond tonight. I was always a sucker for a bloke in a nice suit. Suit Slut I am. But Die Another Day was a bit of a letdown. Bond was looking decidely slow and paunchy, and Moneypenny looked even worse. M had a sex change, Q turned into something out of Monty Python, the Bond Girls looked ordinary and the bad guys had faster cars.
WTF is with that? It wasn't even worth opening the chocolate for (so we didn't).
Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges" - Mexican Bandit, Blazing Saddles
Stop whining, if I can understand it, you can.
My nose is all stuffed up. So is my head. The rest of me doesn't feel so shit-got either, Adam and I both have a cold and I'm wearing that stuffed-up-face-look like a badge. Or a warning sign. So I don't feel so great, in fact I think an additional herd of buffalo might have traipsed across me this morning.
It's been pouring with rain and cold all day and I have been playing Escape games to fill in the vertical time.
Games like this one - Escape the Museum.
.I had lots of fun playing this one. You can play it too at Anode and Cathode.
We watched a bit of Bond tonight. I was always a sucker for a bloke in a nice suit. Suit Slut I am. But Die Another Day was a bit of a letdown. Bond was looking decidely slow and paunchy, and Moneypenny looked even worse. M had a sex change, Q turned into something out of Monty Python, the Bond Girls looked ordinary and the bad guys had faster cars.
WTF is with that? It wasn't even worth opening the chocolate for (so we didn't).
Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges" - Mexican Bandit, Blazing Saddles
:: Monday, July 11, 2005
Why not
This is why you don't take pictures in the nude.
(The cat's pretty ugly, too)
This is why you don't cheat on the missus.
(She doesn't spell very well, either)
This is why you don't let pandas listen to Kiss cds.
(or use your make-up)
This is why you should always be kind to pigeons.
This is why you should be careful what the pet shop sells you.
(This is definitely NOT a red-tailed black shark)
This is why you should take care
when dining al fresco.
(I wonder where the rest of
the Jolly Green Giant is)
This is why you shouldn't feed wild animals.
And this is why I should stop
blogging and go to bed.
(How unusual)
(The cat's pretty ugly, too)
This is why you don't cheat on the missus.
(She doesn't spell very well, either)
This is why you don't let pandas listen to Kiss cds.
(or use your make-up)
This is why you should always be kind to pigeons.
This is why you should be careful what the pet shop sells you.
(This is definitely NOT a red-tailed black shark)
This is why you should take care
when dining al fresco.
(I wonder where the rest of
the Jolly Green Giant is)
This is why you shouldn't feed wild animals.
And this is why I should stop
blogging and go to bed.
(How unusual)
:: Sunday, July 10, 2005
The eyes have it
Not only do I love purple, but I love the moon and sunsets and foggy weather and cool deserted beaches, too.
:: Saturday, July 09, 2005
The The Green Manalishi
You've heard of Clapton, you've heard of Fleetwood Mac; you've heard of Santana and you've probably even heard of cows. But have you heard of Peter Green?
Ok, so you probably have, but I don't know where I've been for the past 40 years cos I hadn't.
More Clapton than Eric (he replaced Clapton in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers); more Santana than Carlos (he wrote Black Magic Woman); no weight around the neck of Fleetwood and McVie (he wrote Albatross, too) this guy is awesome.
And you know I'm not one to rave.
I hooked into an album of guitar music a few weeks ago and forgot I had. Sometimes discovering lost downloads can be a real pleasure.
So, there was this track on it by Peter Green and my jaw just dropped. Then there was a track by a guy named Snowy White. And no, I hadn't heard of him before, either. He played with people like Thin Lizzy, Roger Waters, Dave Gilmour and Gary Moore. He's pretty awesome, too.
There were some amazing blues musicians came out of Britain. I should have been born 10 years earlier.
Ok, so you probably have, but I don't know where I've been for the past 40 years cos I hadn't.
More Clapton than Eric (he replaced Clapton in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers); more Santana than Carlos (he wrote Black Magic Woman); no weight around the neck of Fleetwood and McVie (he wrote Albatross, too) this guy is awesome.
And you know I'm not one to rave.
I hooked into an album of guitar music a few weeks ago and forgot I had. Sometimes discovering lost downloads can be a real pleasure.
So, there was this track on it by Peter Green and my jaw just dropped. Then there was a track by a guy named Snowy White. And no, I hadn't heard of him before, either. He played with people like Thin Lizzy, Roger Waters, Dave Gilmour and Gary Moore. He's pretty awesome, too.
There were some amazing blues musicians came out of Britain. I should have been born 10 years earlier.
I just wrote this big cool post
and Firefox threw a spaz and fucking ATE it!
I am soooooooo PISSED!
I'll write it again and it will appear above this one, but it won't be as good as the first one.
It's MUCH harder to recreate genius than to create it in the first place ;-)
I am soooooooo PISSED!
I'll write it again and it will appear above this one, but it won't be as good as the first one.
It's MUCH harder to recreate genius than to create it in the first place ;-)
:: Friday, July 08, 2005
Spooky, possums
I don't think there was ever a time that I believed in a supreme God, and disbelieved in ghosts and reincarnation and all that spooky possum shit.
I think it always just "was" in my head. We never went to church, we didn't go to Sunday school (hell, we never even got to go to Kindy, but that's a whole other ramble), we were raised in such a way as to encourage good human growth without the need to resort to God as the reason we should pull our heads in.
We had, sometimes strange, literature littering the landscape (awesome alliteration, huh?) like Erich Von Daniken and Colin Lambert; things that would spill over the boundaries that organised religion would attempt to cage us within.
I grew up with my feet in the mud and horseshit on my pants and developed a need as an adult to have green things, not houses, outside my door. Well, I got it half right :-)
I mean, really, if God had created all this fabulously huge universe and made us the only people in it, don't you think we deserved something a bit better than this watery hole with bloody great deserts covering heaps of what land there is? Ok, so it's really pretty and everything, but let's face it, there's room for improvement.
As a teenager addicted to reading, I discovered deeper concepts of reincarnation and ghosties (and that beings scared of the dark wasn't going away) and eventually I got around to reading this book - Life Between Life: Scientific Explorations into the Void Separating One Incarnation from the Next by Joel L. Whitton and Joe Fisher.
Since then I have read hundreds of books on all sorts of things but I still remember that book being what brought it all togther in my head, when it all made sense. I don't bat an eyelid when I walk into a house and find tarot cards and crystals everywhere, or when Deb or Chris do their energy healing or Mark starts doing whatever the hell it is he does when he starts fucking with ya head; after all, Irene pinpointed places in my head and neck that were in trouble a month before I was diagnosed with MS, and 4 months before the MRI showed the location of the lesions, in my neck and head. And all she did was wave her hands over me.
I think that being an energy healer is really the opposite of what the Llewellyn Journal talks about in this article - Psychic Vampires, although Chris can be rather moody when he's been wearing his Hookers Bastard t-shirt. He said it himself. Perhaps a case of what you are portraying being made real? The more I read about these naughty vamps, the more I realise that everyone IS one to some extent. What matters is how much taking you do versus how much giving, and what kind it is. And no, doing "charitable" stuff for public consumption and approbation doesn't cut it. Neither does killing people in the name of whatever deity you are hung up on.
Ok, ok I'm getting to it.
Is what the charismatic religious preachers tap into to elicit fervent worship an extreme form of psychic vampirism? And if this is so, are they not using something more along the lines of this so-called New Age spirituality rather than orthodox religion? Yet they still call it witchcraft?
Ha!
Even good Catholic, The Venerable Bede back in the 7th century CE wrote about reincarnation. Of course, he lived in a time when Christ's teachings on the subject hadn't yet been doctored for the masses.
I think it was in Joel Whitton's book that I read how when people die, the heaven they experience is the one they have spent their life visualising. A bit like that movie I was yapping about a few weeks ago - What Dreams May Come. In this movie, they created their Heaven to look the way they wanted.
And why not?
I think I'll go to bed now and work on my Heaven. Tonight I have to add the endless flowing alcohol, the bowls full of chocolate, pots and pots of er pot, the seven gorjus blokes at my beck and call and a body like Shakira. For me, not for the blokes.
Now tell me I don't have any class.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet.
I think it always just "was" in my head. We never went to church, we didn't go to Sunday school (hell, we never even got to go to Kindy, but that's a whole other ramble), we were raised in such a way as to encourage good human growth without the need to resort to God as the reason we should pull our heads in.
We had, sometimes strange, literature littering the landscape (awesome alliteration, huh?) like Erich Von Daniken and Colin Lambert; things that would spill over the boundaries that organised religion would attempt to cage us within.
I grew up with my feet in the mud and horseshit on my pants and developed a need as an adult to have green things, not houses, outside my door. Well, I got it half right :-)
I mean, really, if God had created all this fabulously huge universe and made us the only people in it, don't you think we deserved something a bit better than this watery hole with bloody great deserts covering heaps of what land there is? Ok, so it's really pretty and everything, but let's face it, there's room for improvement.
As a teenager addicted to reading, I discovered deeper concepts of reincarnation and ghosties (and that beings scared of the dark wasn't going away) and eventually I got around to reading this book - Life Between Life: Scientific Explorations into the Void Separating One Incarnation from the Next by Joel L. Whitton and Joe Fisher.
Since then I have read hundreds of books on all sorts of things but I still remember that book being what brought it all togther in my head, when it all made sense. I don't bat an eyelid when I walk into a house and find tarot cards and crystals everywhere, or when Deb or Chris do their energy healing or Mark starts doing whatever the hell it is he does when he starts fucking with ya head; after all, Irene pinpointed places in my head and neck that were in trouble a month before I was diagnosed with MS, and 4 months before the MRI showed the location of the lesions, in my neck and head. And all she did was wave her hands over me.
I think that being an energy healer is really the opposite of what the Llewellyn Journal talks about in this article - Psychic Vampires, although Chris can be rather moody when he's been wearing his Hookers Bastard t-shirt. He said it himself. Perhaps a case of what you are portraying being made real? The more I read about these naughty vamps, the more I realise that everyone IS one to some extent. What matters is how much taking you do versus how much giving, and what kind it is. And no, doing "charitable" stuff for public consumption and approbation doesn't cut it. Neither does killing people in the name of whatever deity you are hung up on.
Ok, ok I'm getting to it.
Is what the charismatic religious preachers tap into to elicit fervent worship an extreme form of psychic vampirism? And if this is so, are they not using something more along the lines of this so-called New Age spirituality rather than orthodox religion? Yet they still call it witchcraft?
Ha!
Even good Catholic, The Venerable Bede back in the 7th century CE wrote about reincarnation. Of course, he lived in a time when Christ's teachings on the subject hadn't yet been doctored for the masses.
I think it was in Joel Whitton's book that I read how when people die, the heaven they experience is the one they have spent their life visualising. A bit like that movie I was yapping about a few weeks ago - What Dreams May Come. In this movie, they created their Heaven to look the way they wanted.
And why not?
I think I'll go to bed now and work on my Heaven. Tonight I have to add the endless flowing alcohol, the bowls full of chocolate, pots and pots of er pot, the seven gorjus blokes at my beck and call and a body like Shakira. For me, not for the blokes.
Now tell me I don't have any class.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Bill Shakespeare, Hamlet.
:: Thursday, July 07, 2005
Terrorism
Some bastard is letting off bombs in London.
Just a few hours ago.
There is not much one can say about those who would do this to ordinary people off for another day banging the rocks together.
Not much that's printable.
Just a few hours ago.
There is not much one can say about those who would do this to ordinary people off for another day banging the rocks together.
Not much that's printable.
Back by popular demand
My dedicated readers are concerned. I haven't blogged my bloggiest in a few days. The reason is simple - I've been flat out shopping until I (literally) drop getting the last of the kids things sorted for their trip to Australia next week and I've sort of worn myself out with all the racing around.
Only, they might not be aren't going next week cos my friend who is taking them is busy sitting at the bedside of her father who is dying. So we are waiting to see whether he dies and is buried in time for the trip to take place it has been postponed until next school holidays.
Doesn't that sound awful - waiting for him to die. The poor man's body is so worn out that it's a miracle he's still here at all, but still he hangs on in his coma and, of course, a holiday to the Gold Coast is very much a secondary consideration for everyone at this point in time. The kids are fine with it, they understand what is important and what can be postponed a few months.
Sometimes, the dying gets in the way of the living. And that is how it should be.
Normal service will be resumed when my head stops hurting. Y'all come back now, ya hear?
Only, they might not be aren't going next week cos my friend who is taking them is busy sitting at the bedside of her father who is dying. So we are waiting to see whether he dies and is buried in time for the trip to take place it has been postponed until next school holidays.
Doesn't that sound awful - waiting for him to die. The poor man's body is so worn out that it's a miracle he's still here at all, but still he hangs on in his coma and, of course, a holiday to the Gold Coast is very much a secondary consideration for everyone at this point in time. The kids are fine with it, they understand what is important and what can be postponed a few months.
Sometimes, the dying gets in the way of the living. And that is how it should be.
Normal service will be resumed when my head stops hurting. Y'all come back now, ya hear?
:: Monday, July 04, 2005
Happy birthday America
July 4th. Everyone knows that July 4th is America's birthday. Yankee Doodle Dandy was born on the Fourth of July (sorry about the background music, wasn't me).
Now, American kids are raised knowing the whole Independence Day thing cos it's a big deal there but we folks down in the Southern Ocean know of it in more of an anecdotal sense cos it's always being mentioned in movies and TV programmes and stuff. So, for all those who didn't know the reason behind it, here is a potted overview of July 4th courtesy of sites that are in the know on such things.
Independence Day celebrates the birth of the nation that is America. About.com describes it thus:
"Independence Day is celebrated on July 4 because that is the day when the Continental Congress adopted the final draft of the Declaration of Independence. From July 8, 1776, until the next month, the document was read publicly and people celebrated whenever they heard it. The next year, in Philadelphia, bells rang and ships fired guns, candles and firecrackers were lighted. But the War of Independence dragged on until 1783, and in that year, Independence Day was made an official holiday. 1941 Congress declared 4th of July a federal holiday." more...
Rumela's Web adds:
The task begun on July 4, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was not actually completed until August. Nonetheless, the 4th of July has been accepted as the official anniversary of United States independence from Britain.
July 4, 1777 -- The first Independence Day celebration takes place. It's interesting to speculate what those first 4th festivities were like. By the early 1800s the traditions of parades, picnics, and fireworks were firmly established as part of American Independence Day culture more...
Tonight they played on TV a movie made in 1996 called Independence Day; a movie made in the grand tradition of all stirring and patriotic movies, a story about fighting and dying for your country and being victorious on, well, Independence Day. Good back-slapping stuff and a good wee movie, too (cos it's got some nice bods in there like Jeff Goldblum and Bill Pullman and the [drool] luscious Will Smith... [/drool]).
Hell, we even own a copy of it :-)
It also has Brent Spiner in it, playing a mad scientist with Billy's hair and Fred Scuttle's trousers (remember Benny Hill?). Certainly a bit different from his role as Commander Data.
So, anyway, today is July 4th and there's bound to be a few big parties happening in the States today and I'd like to wish my Stateside friends (you guys know who you are) a very happy Fourth of July.
For your present this year, I'd really like to give you back all the episodes ever screened here of "Everybody Loves Raymond".
Cos not everybody actually does :-D
So, how did we get from Independence day to Everybody Loves Raymond via Billy Connolly, Benny Hill and Star Trek? The long way, of course.
As usual :-)
"As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside it's America
Outside it's America" - U2, Bullet the Blue Sky
Now, American kids are raised knowing the whole Independence Day thing cos it's a big deal there but we folks down in the Southern Ocean know of it in more of an anecdotal sense cos it's always being mentioned in movies and TV programmes and stuff. So, for all those who didn't know the reason behind it, here is a potted overview of July 4th courtesy of sites that are in the know on such things.
Independence Day celebrates the birth of the nation that is America. About.com describes it thus:
"Independence Day is celebrated on July 4 because that is the day when the Continental Congress adopted the final draft of the Declaration of Independence. From July 8, 1776, until the next month, the document was read publicly and people celebrated whenever they heard it. The next year, in Philadelphia, bells rang and ships fired guns, candles and firecrackers were lighted. But the War of Independence dragged on until 1783, and in that year, Independence Day was made an official holiday. 1941 Congress declared 4th of July a federal holiday." more...
Rumela's Web adds:
The task begun on July 4, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was not actually completed until August. Nonetheless, the 4th of July has been accepted as the official anniversary of United States independence from Britain.
July 4, 1777 -- The first Independence Day celebration takes place. It's interesting to speculate what those first 4th festivities were like. By the early 1800s the traditions of parades, picnics, and fireworks were firmly established as part of American Independence Day culture more...
Tonight they played on TV a movie made in 1996 called Independence Day; a movie made in the grand tradition of all stirring and patriotic movies, a story about fighting and dying for your country and being victorious on, well, Independence Day. Good back-slapping stuff and a good wee movie, too (cos it's got some nice bods in there like Jeff Goldblum and Bill Pullman and the [drool] luscious Will Smith... [/drool]).
Hell, we even own a copy of it :-)
It also has Brent Spiner in it, playing a mad scientist with Billy's hair and Fred Scuttle's trousers (remember Benny Hill?). Certainly a bit different from his role as Commander Data.
So, anyway, today is July 4th and there's bound to be a few big parties happening in the States today and I'd like to wish my Stateside friends (you guys know who you are) a very happy Fourth of July.
For your present this year, I'd really like to give you back all the episodes ever screened here of "Everybody Loves Raymond".
Cos not everybody actually does :-D
So, how did we get from Independence day to Everybody Loves Raymond via Billy Connolly, Benny Hill and Star Trek? The long way, of course.
As usual :-)
"As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside it's America
Outside it's America" - U2, Bullet the Blue Sky
:: Sunday, July 03, 2005
And now for the news
Have you ever noticed that some news items have the stupidest headlines?
No, me either.
And in the picture above, I failed to notice that a dune buggy was missing its owner ( I supposed they asked it); impersonators concern Gisborne police (what sort of impersonaters? female? police? Elvis? what, what); that someone should keep smoking students in schools (so what will they smoke at home?); there have been two arrests in the Burger King case (which is what, I wonders to myself - food poisoning? robbery? murder? mass suicide by those who eat that slop? suitcase? nutcase? hardcase?).
Some more stupid headlines I gathered off the net. I don't know whether they are real or not. If they are real, there are some seriously fucked up people working in journalism.
Crack Found on Governor's Daughter (what? Her polyfilla got away?)
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash (ayuh)
Prostitutes Appeal to Pope (male? female? child? dom/subs? what??)
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over (he da man)
Man Struck By Lightning Faces Battery Charge (he runs the electric fence now)
Kids Make Nutritious Snacks (I love kids, but I couldn't eat a whole one)
I mean, come on people. I think I'll have some of what they're having, thanks.
However, whilst I may have missed all those headlines above, I could not ignore this bit of news.
This is how not to park your dinghy. Or your ferry.
Not even in British Columbia.
"British Columbia Ferries says the boat, "The Queen of Oak Bay," lost power and missed the terminal berth".
No shit. It looks pretty terminal to me.
"I want a new drug
One that won’t spill
One that don’t cost too much
Or come in a pill" - Huey Lewis and the News
No, me either.
And in the picture above, I failed to notice that a dune buggy was missing its owner ( I supposed they asked it); impersonators concern Gisborne police (what sort of impersonaters? female? police? Elvis? what, what); that someone should keep smoking students in schools (so what will they smoke at home?); there have been two arrests in the Burger King case (which is what, I wonders to myself - food poisoning? robbery? murder? mass suicide by those who eat that slop? suitcase? nutcase? hardcase?).
Some more stupid headlines I gathered off the net. I don't know whether they are real or not. If they are real, there are some seriously fucked up people working in journalism.
Crack Found on Governor's Daughter (what? Her polyfilla got away?)
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash (ayuh)
Prostitutes Appeal to Pope (male? female? child? dom/subs? what??)
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over (he da man)
Man Struck By Lightning Faces Battery Charge (he runs the electric fence now)
Kids Make Nutritious Snacks (I love kids, but I couldn't eat a whole one)
I mean, come on people. I think I'll have some of what they're having, thanks.
However, whilst I may have missed all those headlines above, I could not ignore this bit of news.
This is how not to park your dinghy. Or your ferry.
Not even in British Columbia.
"British Columbia Ferries says the boat, "The Queen of Oak Bay," lost power and missed the terminal berth".
No shit. It looks pretty terminal to me.
"I want a new drug
One that won’t spill
One that don’t cost too much
Or come in a pill" - Huey Lewis and the News
:: Saturday, July 02, 2005
A clock that always says 12.30
It's the middle of the night. 2AM. That AM bit tends to scream at me for some reason. I turned off the PC and the heater an hour and a half ago and went to bed. Most of me was tepid, some of me was on fire, baby. So the fiery limb forced me back out of bed for another dose the modern mother's ruin and a bit of quiet stumbling.
I know you don't know this about me, but I am kind of passionate about my computer and so I found this site quite relevant - The Stealth Geek FAQ.
It was definitely better than this one - Mondrian Machine. How they can call this art beats the hell out of me.
The Keeper of Useless Information in me enjoyed this site - Gullible.info.
This one, Medieval Literature and History I had to bookmark cos I love this shit.
This one - Eric Myer Photography keep me playing for ages
and this one was enough to send me back to bed - The F Scale: Final Form.
"Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said 12:30" - Mamas & the Papas
I know you don't know this about me, but I am kind of passionate about my computer and so I found this site quite relevant - The Stealth Geek FAQ.
It was definitely better than this one - Mondrian Machine. How they can call this art beats the hell out of me.
The Keeper of Useless Information in me enjoyed this site - Gullible.info.
This one, Medieval Literature and History I had to bookmark cos I love this shit.
This one - Eric Myer Photography keep me playing for ages
and this one was enough to send me back to bed - The F Scale: Final Form.
"Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said 12:30" - Mamas & the Papas
:: Friday, July 01, 2005
Yo, baby
Congrats Shari and Jeff on the addition of another superior female to the planet last night.
Aliyah Grace, 8lb 3oz, June 30th.
I think she is adorable.
Mum and bubs doing well and home two hours after delivery. Big sis Kaitlyn rapt to have been at the birth. Dad going to work as usual (someone has to pay for the second shot gun, you know).
I'll have to write bigger blog posts now so that Shari has something to read during those night feeds.
Aliyah Grace, 8lb 3oz, June 30th.
I think she is adorable.
Mum and bubs doing well and home two hours after delivery. Big sis Kaitlyn rapt to have been at the birth. Dad going to work as usual (someone has to pay for the second shot gun, you know).
I'll have to write bigger blog posts now so that Shari has something to read during those night feeds.
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