Vertical again, just in time for summer

Upwards and onwards
I'm trying to keep from delving into all the gory details of my medical misadventures (as promised a while back), but this is worth mentioning – after my last BKA (below knee amputation) of my remaining leg, I am up, at 'em, back at work for more than a month now, and rocking my new prosthetic without crutches!

This was a timely thing in many regards. Firstly, I managed to avoid all the grunt work involved with my full-time gig, Exam Editor here in New Zealand. I got healthy enough to get back to work just after Oct. 1, our big deadline to have all the exams done, dusted and at the printer.

And onwards rolls summer! So I avoided any potential unpleasantness of a Wellington "winter" (we've covered this before. This is a concept much like the Loch Ness Monster, the Jersey Devil, and common sense and civility during USA Elections – a myth. It does not exist). And now that the days are longer and the weather warm enough to convince attractive women to don slinky and sheer summer attire, and the pub patios are under full steam – I can only say, 'Bring it on!'

Lyin', cheatin', no-good, oily-hided, swindling snake-oil salesmen
Yep, the US election came and went. And in spite of the usual nonsense spewing out of the mouths of the two candidates (moreso Robo-Romney, the clueless anti-personal billionaire who, among other things, professed to have "Binders full of women!" when confronted on his record of not really caring much about women in the workplace, or their rights).

But the sub-head up there is more directed at the media. Much like an episode of daytime TV, where the hosts often resort to goading people on to get them to argue about their insipid problems ("OK Maria, maybe you didn't hear Shaniqua – she called you a WHORE and a PUTA and a CHEATING CUNT! And, you're FAT! Go on, attack her!")

To listen to the media, as the Big Day approached, this was going to be a crazy-scary, tight election. Obama might lose. Or he could win by barely a one or two Electora Vote margin. Or, there could be a TIE! – which would result in a strange procedure, where they (whoever's in charge of US Elections) would march up to the House of Representatives (predominantly Republican) and ask them to pick a President. Clearly that would be Robo-Romney in this scenario. Then they'd stroll on over to the Senate (a den of Democrats), and ask them to choose a VP. That would no doubt have been Joe Biden. Would this weirdness transpire? Well, the MEDIA sure hoped it would!

Then election day went down. No such weirdness ensued. No tie, no close one. Robo-Romney was Chuck-Norris-Roundhouse-Kicked back to the primordial ooze from whence he crawled (a weasel making billions on the backs of millions). He was reamed, steamed, and dry-cleaned. Put butter on his forehead, he's TOAST.

But hey, he needed to get back to his billionaire gig, figuring out ways for how to not pay taxes.

It was pretty much over when it started. Obama locked up the entire north-east coast, and a few other states bordering Canada. Included in this mix were "struggle states" where it could go either way, said the MEDIA.

Nope, not even close. Obama got almost all of those. Including the much-vaunted Ohio, a bit later in the evening.

That was pretty much it, in a nutshell. He wasn't going to lose, and it wasn't going to be a tie. He was going to win. And, handily.

Then the rest of the mess unfolded. Robo-Romney was beaten like a rented mule ... like a red-headed stepchild living in the attic, who owes you money. He even managed to lose Florida (crazy, can't-count-for-shit, Florida!) Even the stooges and mush-heads, the swamp-heat addled, and the certifiably insane weren't buying Robo-Romney's bullshit.

And a week later, when the cretins, mutants, trolls and CHUDs in Florida finally got their votes counted, Obama won that state too. In the end, there wasn't much difference in the vote count than when Obama totally caned "Stiff-Neck" McCain and the mutton-brained Sarah Palin in a landslide.

Thanks for a good show, though, Media Pundits. And of course you're all safe from prolonged scorn, as no one in the US has a memory that lasts longer than a text message.

Now, Mr. Obama – you have four years to get it right. Let's pull out all the stops and get some shit done. And done right. OK?

Rock star incumbent voted back in. Now, crank it all the way to 11, good sir!

But what about the popular vote? Shouldn't the guy who got more votes overall win?
Ah, the plaintive wail of the uneducated, the stupid, and the banal.

Short answer? No. Long answer? Nooooooooooooooooooooo, you jackwagons!

Take a civics course, read a book and maybe learn something about how your own election system works. Or Canada will have to drop by and burn down the White House AGAIN.

And in the end, Obama won the meaningless "popular vote" too. Now sit down and shut up.

Catchin' a cab
One of the fun little bonuses of being a double amputee is, I got a discount cab card – all taxi rides half price! Not a bad thing. I eventually want to get walking the whole way to work again, once my fitness level comes up ... and once my new stump can take the abuse of many, many pounds of ME walking on it.

But until then, I'l avail myself of this little gem of a cab card. Makes life mucho easy.

So most days I catch a cab to work. And home again at days' end. But this one day coming home, I got into a cab and noticed this fun little sign on the kleenex box perched on the dashboard:

Clearly this guy had a guts-full of ... something?

A reasonable request I guess ... then again, you're in the taxi drivin' business, Bub. People are prone to chatting. If you're unique or unusual, questions may be asked. PERSONAL questions. So suck it up, buttercup ... 

Oddly though, 'Buttercup' had no issues with rambling on endlessly about some sort of mystical complexities involved with luck, and his lack of same. And how a guy he knows must have some sort of Wizard-like abilities, because he predicts a lot of (obvious) things. And how ... oh, we're here at my home! Thanks Bub. See ya.

Hops – so many hops - hops as far as the eye can see ...

The sudden and wonderful movement here in New Zealand to have heaps, loads, scads, and shitloads of micro-brew (aka "Craft") beer available is great! Here in Wellington, we now have no less than 6 really good pubs that are exclusively devoted to providing the many and varied beers from all sorts of local brewers. One even brews its own!

And yet lately, it seems, there aren't enough hops in the WORLD for some of these brewers. We've gone so far beyond a traditional IPA-style beer on so many fronts now, that the only way some brewers can get more hops into your face is to provide a side-order of raw hops to chew on as you chug down their ale. 

Don't get me wrong, it's mostly a good thing. I loves me some hoppy beer, properly made. I have a few favourites now too – Epic's "Hop Zombie" is, I think, my #1 ... however Tuatara's APA is an exceptionally close second. And because it is much more available than Hop Zombie, there are days that – when I have a Tuatara APA in hand – it is in fact #1. 

I love the idea that gone are the days of the "yellow fizzy beverage" that passes for beer is the only thing available. For so long, in so many places (I'm looking at YOU, USA, and primarily the swill and bog-water foisted on a foolish public in Canada, from Labatt and Molson's) this was the case. And I'll admit it – as a young and uninformed drinker in Canada, I soaked that crappy stuff up like it was a cure for ... something .... 

And before anyone writes to yell at me saying that there are great micro-brews in the US and Canada ... yes, there are. Yet the lion's share of the beer biz belongs to the nasty providers of the crappy beer-like faux stuff. Which proves two things: Marketing works, and flooding the market with the shit also works. Oh, three things – keeping the public uninformed for many generations since Prohibition also works. But thankfully people are learning ... 

Jumping the 'beer event' shark

My biggest issue now with certain pubs is ... just how far are they going to go in attempting to whip up frenzy for a "beer event", and not actually provide any event-like atmosphere?

Last Friday I discovered that one of the good pubs in town, The Malthouse, was having an IPA Challenge. In the cryptically uninformative snippet of info from FacePlant, we were meant to storm on down and get ready for an IPA event, where many local brewers would have on offer their various takes on this iconic beer style.

Yeah, about that – I got there just before the "event" started. As did many other people. And the witching hour of 6 pm came ... went ... and when I finally asked a bartender what was involved in this "event", he essentially said: he would tell me all the types of IPA they had on tap, and I could buy them and try them.

OK. So it was essentially an "event", much in the same way that my waking up every day to prepare to go to work could be billed as "The First Annual Shaking Off of the Night-Time Doldrums, and Waiting for Morning Wood to Subside, so I can Jet Out The Door and begin my day of Contributing to the Nation's Education System" festival of ... that. 

Note that this is the first such shameful advertising of a non-event as an event that I've noticed so far. But beware, pub owners and brewers: don't try this again, unless you have something event-like attached to me buying beer and swilling it. Many, MANY people will tell you – this does NOT qualify as an event. This is SOP (standard operating procedure), and/or business as usual.

On the plus side, earlier in the week I discovered one of my favourite overall beers – Captain Cooker Manuka* Smoked beer – was on TAP and REALLY CHEAP at a cool little place called Meow. Heretofore I had only been able to find it in bottles. Now this was progress! (*A kind of wood here that imparts a subtle yet tasty flavour, when the smoke is applied to things like meat and beer.)

Tasty-as! And hey, a piggie on the label. So it's fun, too!

LinkedIn ... to what, exactly?

So, the big social/work/network/thingy website LinkedIn went "public"a while ago.  And now it has shares and shit. So you can buy them. This is supposedly important. The guy on the TV news said so.

And so, suddenly, we're besieged with daily email updates as to who on my list of LinkedIn-ners did what. And maybe I want to LinkIn to some other people. And now, Endorse some of these folks! says my latest barrage of LinkedIn emails.

OK. So then what actually happens? Should I lose my gig, can I just LinkIn to anyone on my list, and they'll hire me? Or will they gleefully wax on poetically about my dazzling abilities, as some sort of reference – even though I've never worked with most of them at all, ever?

Just wondering what the fuss is all about. It seems like a really overt way of tracking us, of getting us all in a nice tidy pile, where we provide all the info and coordinates ... but then again, so is FacePlant, Twitter, Google+, et al. If anything bad comes of any of this, it's all self inflicted. I just hope once we're all together on all these sites, there is no "Chef" out there to call in the air strike ... 

"Mangoes, man! Just imagine Raquel Welch naked and rubbing mangoes all over you ... 

What? Oh, sure, I'll call in the air strike. I'll stay with the boat, and call in the air strike!"

Men At Work

As I charged out the door to start my 2nd week back at work, I noticed a flyer in my mailbox informing me the city was about to launch into tearing up my narrow, dead-end, winding, death-defying road to replace some water drainage gear. And upon reaching the road, there they were! On the case ...

Exactly what sort of case, I'm not sure. They started with the dig-a-hole, put-stuff-in-it, and fill-it-back-in routine that Monday, right outside my house. Then over the course of the week, they edged down the road, repeating, rinsing, wiping hands on pants ...

Then the next Monday – they were back. Right outside my house again. Doing exactly the same thing. Again.

This routine was repeated FIVE TIMES ... starting over outside my house, digging the road up, monkeying around, filling it in, moving on down the road a bit. 

They finally and miraculously picked up the last of their 8,543 road cones on Wednesday this week, and had buggered off into the mist – leaving the road looking like a mad patchwork pavement quilter had been on the loose.

Or ... have they? Only time will tell. It seems like these "make work" projects are common around the city, especially when more than one thing needs to be put in the hole under ground. I've witnessed three different work crews come around to a location, each one tearing up the road, installing whatever, and covering it up and paving it ... only to have the next crew show up, a day later, and repeat the process with whatever it was they deemed necessary to bury underground. 

It's good that the city is providing boundless opportunities for hordes of large, unshaven, sweaty men in orange vests to lean on shovels while smoking cigarettes all over the city. But this is pushing the envelope a bit, methinks.

Pumpkin-off 2012

Sometimes impromptu contests are the most fun. Myself and my friend Don suddenly found ourselves embroiled in a 'pumpkin off' on FacePlant, leading up to Hallowe'en this year. In a nutshell, we would post up a daily net find of an unusual, creepy, funny or weirdly carved pumpkin we found on the net ... along with some trash talking to taunt the other fellow into attempting to best that one.

What it really was, at its essence, was who could Google better with the most obscure/strange phrases (thereby turning up the oddest and goriest of pumpkins). In magnanimous fashion, Don ceded the contest to me. I think it might have been the image of him, naked save for a pumpkin diaper, in the middle of a pumpkin patch, that edged me on to victory. 

Now that is comedy gold, no matter WHO you are.
Also, he who commands Photoshop, wins the war!

(Hint: That's not really Don).

Ah, the old "Philandering and emailing about it and hoping not to get caught" trick!

First time I fell for it ... today. Sorry about that, Chief ... 

What is up with these fools, cretins and poltroons in the public eye, who keep getting caught with their pants down online/on video? Especially the famous ones ... and REALLY especially, the ones in charge of shit. Like keeping big US State secrets.

Yeah, I'm looking at you, Petraeus. And whoever that other dimwit General is. Not satisfied with your wife? Divorce her. Then go rent a hooker, and don't TELL anyone about it. And don't tell the hooker you're famous, or that you have a really big gun. Or are in charge of lots of guns. 

Indeed. Cut it out. No one's impressed. And you look like an idiot.

Once again, the mystery and wizardry of thermostats eludes Kiwis

As great as this place is, there are of course a few things that make me shake my head ... like how to control the heat in an office building. 

Apparently, that concept is Holy Grail-ish here. Unattainable. Impossible. IT CAN'T BE DONE.

After moving floors to have our floor (and office space) renovated, and new duct work and thermostats installed ... I'm back in my original chair, in the same spot I was before ... only sweating WORSE than I ever was.

And this time, the new, improved thermostats are sealed up and can't be monkeyed with! So yesterday I ordered a desk fan ... at least I can move the hot air around me a bit. That might help. 

Or it might drive me out to the sunny seaside patios even sooner (the patios with a whisp of sea breeze to keep me cool) ... 

Hmm! OK, maybe this whole "too hot in the office" thing is a GOOD development!

The good with the bad

OK so I shouldn't be whinging. This was mostly self-inflicted. I knew what was going on. But I got caught up (once again) in thinking a phenomenal-looking woman might actually, maybe, possibly be interested in me, when reality and all things logical should have schmecked me upside the head and said: "Who are you kidding, you legless lummox? LOOK at her! Now ... look at you. Yeah. Go home and lie down." 

Yes she was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. But apparently she just liked to play "Look at me. LOOK AT ME! No, not over there. LOOK AT ME!" with guys. A lot.  But in the immortal words of the funny TV show Arrested Development: "No touching!"

And the other tagline: "I've made a huge mistake". Oh yeah.

In spite of being engaged to someone far, far away (she claimed), and in spite of me being warned by mutual friends about what was up in 'crazy-lady land', I plodded on. But what the hell. I went for it and had a bit of fun thinking maybe, just maybe, the right combination of my humour, and alcohol, and weed, and duct tape, and ether, would make me the first lucky winner in these Lunatic Sweepstakes ... ha ha. Nope. 

But hey some GOOD things have happened of late! I have reconnected with heaps of old pals on FacePlant over the years, and two of them (Jo and Ian) are going to be here in NZ visiting me early in January '13! I'll take two weeks off, and join them in a casual mosey about the country, touring around to many places I haven't been to myself. It's going to be a blast – I've known Jo since Grade 5. Earlier this year their lovely daughter Elly came through Welly on a trek of her own. It's fantastic to reconnect with old friends – people who matter!

And just lately I've made a more solid e-connection with a 'casual acquaintance' I only just knew online from being on a news forum (Fark) a few years before (hi Kellas!) She's cool and funny and artistic. A great new friend! And another old amigo (Kari-Anne) reconnected online, with some good news about a couple of really positive things happening in her life in Norway. So it was good news all around! 

Honorable (and late, sorry guys!) mention goes to my newfound Russian (and vicinity) friends – who I met via the Wacky 48 Hour Movie Competition from earlier this year. There are a bunch of them (Alex, Olga, Olga II, Marina, etc) and they're all really fun and REALLY like to drink and party. (What's that you say? Russians like to party?) Yes, indeed.

Too much, too soon, too fast – slow down, dudes, we can't take the pace!

I'm an Apple customer. I have been since the fateful day I got my first gig here in Welly, which involved me getting to use Macs on the job. I had played with them a bit prior to this ... and yet, since being capable of getting my own computer, it was Windows machines for quite a few years. The cost of getting a Mac was the key issue. I was a broke-ass putz. (Now, not quite so broke-ass).

Then one day in the mid-naughties, I took the plunge and got my first iMac. This was after session # (hmmm, I lost count how many) of reformatting my POS Windows machine, after trying to make it work like something resembling the promise of how computers were supposed to work.

It was like I'd crossed a threshold, and now I spent all my time actually USING my computer, and not trying to find out ways to make it work/go faster/stop crashing/what the fuck is WRONG with this goddamn fucking stinking thing?!?! ad nauseum. 

Since that first iMac (the "monitor on an arm over an igloo" looking one) I am now on my third iMac (big honkin' 27" screen beast that's only about 1.5 years old now). Nothing was ever wrong with them to force me into replacing them – computers (even good ones that work) get old, fast. It's the unavoidable obsolescence of computers – two years into the fray and they're well past the capabilities of the latest software. I also have a MacBook Pro laptop (purchased on a lark, when I was making obscene amounts of money at the silliest job I ever had – I wanted a laptop to take with me on my trip to visit Erin in Brisbane!) and of course an iPad (version 2), and an iPhone (the 4S, for those keeping track). There's also an AppleTV hooked up to my big-ass (not Apple!) Panasonic home theatre system.

I list the years and model numbers here, because, in just a BLINDINGLY short period of time for each toy – since I got it – new versions have been unleashed on us. Faster, and faster come the releases ... seemingly only a few months apart now. 

So fast, in fact, that now I have to say – well, have a look at the subhead up there. SLOW DOWN you bastards. We don't need a new whatever every 4 to 6 months. Wait a year, put all your latest slam-bang advancements into the thing at once (don't trickle them out 1 or 2 at a time), THEN foist it on those of us who can afford to upgrade. 

Case in point: the iPhone 5 (the model just out now, after my 4S was released) emerged not long ago. And word down the pipe yesterday has it that the 5S is in production. Fookin' 'ell!

And when they released the iPhone 5, they also released a shrunken iPad (mostly just a bloated iPhone without the phone guts), and a new-ish regular sized iPad, making it v. 4 (I have the v. 2). And of course a new, sleeker, faster iMac. This one's 3 versions newer than my one, which as mentioned, is only 1.5 or maybe 2 years old now. 

I'm a regular reader of a couple of weekly columnists, Robert Cringely, and Bob Lefsetz. Both have recently opined that we have hit a 'tech wall' with all these gizmos – not just Apple, but everything. In short, all the amazing levels of technology we now enjoy with the "new" gear has been attained for some time ... nothing new has emerged right now. 

The jump from 4S to 5 with the iPhone was just ... slightly better versions of the toys the 4S had. And some don't work in New Zealand yet. So, no point in me getting a v. 5. 

Same with everything else. Nothing jumped up from the latest releases of the iPad or iMac that made me go "Wow! Must have!" It was just marginally better/improved tech in the existing stuff (more intense looking monitor image, slightly faster operating speed, a few more megapixels in the cameras). And slightly thinner. And a touch longer, but not wider. Yawn. Nope, not gonna upgrade. My current gear does that, and it's not worth another big chunk of change to just go a wee bit faster.

Indeed, we have hit the "Wow Wall". These mavins and geniuses and wizards at Apple need to come up with something radically new to draw in a jaded (no, make that complacent) public, to spark up a fever pitch for the next "new" thing they whip out for us. We love the stuff. It's amazing. But you've WOW'd us over the head so often with actual new and cool stuff, we're not going to fall for a snake-oil salesman claiming a few more pixels on a screen is WOW-worthy.

Granted, Apple has done nothing BUT innovate since Steve Jobs returned to take over Apple in 1997, and started making gear that made us go "Wow!" every year. (Not only just saying "Wow" but forcing terms like iPod and iPad and iPhone into regular daily conversation faster than any other term has ever been absorbed).

And Micro$erf, as mentioned in a previous blog, has done nothing except parrot and mimic ... it has just sat there like the big, dumb, uncoordinated (but rich – due to being lucky, in the right place, at the right time, many years prior) neighbourhood kid who sucks at everything, hasn't got an original thought in his head, and no one likes him – who jumps up well after the game has been going for a long time, to shout: "Hey I can kick the ball too!" And then he does it ... badly ... and the ball's up on the roof now. 

For the slow kid, and Micro$oft, the game was over before it started.

So now the only solution to making more and more stacks of cash for Apple seems to be falling back on the lame 'rapid-fire' idea ... releasing minorly-improved gear at us faster and faster, machine-gun style. Pretty soon they're going to have to get back into the WOW business, because people are going to stop buying the only-slightly shinier toy.

Well that's about all the rumpus I can think of / got up to recently. I'm at work right now writing all this, so after a beer or two after work I may think of other stuff.

But that's another Blog entry.

Yours in absurdity,

Stevil

Mystery ninja visits, crazy old men yelling at chairs, and other musings

Who 'dat at mah door?
Some time ago I mentioned I'd been 'drunk dialed' by a woman. I opined that being drunk-dialed by someone keen on jumping your bones was a GOOD thing. Especially when, not long after the drunk-dialing ensues, said bones get jumped.

I still maintain this is so. The bone-jumping did indeed ensue over Xmas and New Years just past. And lo, it was fun.

Now it seems there is another level to this titter-giggle-I-like-you-but-first-I'm-going-to-play-coy behaviour: secret and ninja-like visits to leave stuff at my door.

Here's the rumpus.

Over the last couple of weeks I have noticed my mail (snail mail) has been left right on the door jam of my front door. This is being accomplished by someone, but I don't know who or which girl (I am of course hoping it's an attractive female) – and I know it's not the postie, because no postie goes past a mailbox and walks down steps to leave mail on someone's doorstep.

At first I assumed it was one of the two girls living in the suite downstairs. But then a few days ago I saw the shadow (viewed through the opaque glass of my front door) of my mystery benefactor-ninja going UP the steps and leaving ... and when I wheeled over to the door, there was my mail again. This was the first time I'd caught a glimpse of my secret admirer ... but it got me to thinking a bit harder ...

This was clearly not either of the downstairs neighbours. I reckoned that, first of all, they don't know I'm currently gibbled and not very mobile while I recover from surgery. We're not close friends and only usually say "hi!" when we see each other outside the house. Second of all, the person went UP the steps and left. This was not someone coming home, checking the mail, and dropping mine off as they continued down stairs.

And then I began wondering harder ... who WAS that?

No further clues were forthcoming. And so I plodded on with my day.

Until last night – a KNOCK at my door at 9.30 pm. As I often do when someone knocks, I just shout: "Hark! Who goeth there?" (actually, I shout "Come in!" as I can't be arsed to get into my wheelchair and roll around to the door, especially if someone has decided just to drop by and not call/text me first). Usually, however, visitors/couriers/pizza guys knock on my door on or before 6 pm. Not 9.30 pm. So that was odd ....

However, no one came in, and there were no further knocks. A short while later I rolled around in my chair on a bathroom/new wine bottle/sammich circuit, and decided to peek outside my door.

A small plastic bag with some samosas and fries was hanging off the door knob. They were well packaged and wrapped, and still warm.

So my mail-dropping ninja had graduated to leaving food. No, I did not eat it. While I do like to be drunk-dialed and e-stalked (this has happened via FacePlant) and even drunkenly hit on in bars .... I draw the line at eating mystery food. There's crazy and devil-may-care behaviour, and then there's stupid.

Hmm. Now who was this?

Prior to the knock, I had been drinking and chatting with a friend online, and so immediately announced this latest development, and launched into a guessing game as to which of the several women I know this might be.

Clearly it wasn't the one I was chatting to online. But I started to firm up a suspect list, thinking of who would do such a thing, yet who would NOT follow through and just knock and come in and say hi. And, of course, jump my bones. Or at least be summarily plied by gallons of wine, beer and vodka, and THEN jump my bones.

I decided to send out two texts soon after the knocking and mystery food drop – one each to the two most likely suspects by my estimation and mulling over of the clues (no answer from each, a day later), and I asked a mate of mine (via FacePlant) who knows of another woman who might have done such a thing, but as it was Friday last night, he has not emerged from Hangover Hell yet to check his FacePlant.

The mystery continues into the next day (now). No further clues or visits ... unless she's lurking in the bushes now, watching and waiting. Good thing I don't scare easy ...

Come on out, Mystery Ninja! Or rather, come on in. Free drinks! And of course a willing bone-jumping victim awaits ...

This just in: crazy, senile old man yells at empty chair on TV
By now everyone has seen this disgraceful, awful, terrifyingly stupid and WTF moment: Clint Eastwood humiliating himself at the US Republican National Convention, by taking the stage and shouting at an empty chair.

I love Clint Eastwood for his past track record of providing us with sensationally fun action movies (cowboy, cop) starring him. He has also directed some great movies. He is also a musician and likes and promotes jazz, by making movies about jazz greats, and having cool jazz music in most of his movies.

But now Clint is old. And apparently, senile and crazy. We could see what he MEANT to do – a faux interview of President Obama, without Obama actually being there, in an attempt to look wry and clever. But to do so by ad-libbing some wild, insane rambling stupidity to an empty chair ... no. Just, no. Clint, you looked insane, senile and crazy.

It's time to go lay down and relax and stop showing up in public. Go and enjoy your money while you can, Clint. You're finished. Stop tarnishing the great memories of all your fantastic past successes. You looked STUPID.

InstaGram: the lastest thing that makes me go WTF?
Just a quick note about this latest craze people seem to be using when posting up photos on FacePlant.

Why?

Everything Instagram does to photos are the sorts of things I try to FIX when I see these horrible effects  show up on photos without going through Instagram. Why do we need to see current photos with a yellow tint, or have bad, unnatural lighting and unrealistic colour skews, or feature some lame attempt to make them look olde-timey? Please stop.

Shoot first, avoid reality later
I have sounded off for how much I love "The Newsroom". It's a great new Aaron Sorkin show with the usual snappy dialogue and obvious 'wishful thinking' presentation, (like The West Wing was – a fairy tale view of how the US Presidency SHOULD be, not how it really is). The Newsroom shows what TV news SHOULD be like, not the info-tainment with zero relevance or depth or truth that we see on a regular basis. If only ...

Not long ago there was a string of reports out of South Africa, where protesting miners were being shot, and killed, by S. African police. The miners had no weapons, they were just chanting and yelling and protesting. And the cops showed up and gunned a bunch of them down.

This footage was on TV. Of course, no teams of US Military specialists sprang into action and showed up to restore peace, because there is no oil to speak of in South Africa.

Then just yesterday, it was reported that the miners (a group of 130+ of them) who were still alive from the protest shootings are being charged with the murder of their friends and co-workers that the police were filmed killing.

And somehow, inexplicably, the TV news is reporting exactly this! Amazeballs! Let's see what happens next ... likely not much, as no one really cares what goes on in S. Africa, now that Apartheid was defeated. But we never know.

When the lying just gets too overt
Perhaps another positive outcome of The Newsroom ... FOX News reported on their site recently that a speech given by Vice-Presidential hopeful Paul Ryan was full of lies! And, skirted the big issues!

No clue if FOX also reported this on their TV network. Perhaps their "going out on a limb" by printing this on their website isn't really being all that daring ... considering fans of their crazy, right-wing propaganda don't (or can't) read.

Having no end of fun with the lies
Of course The Daily Show is having a field day with all the US Election lies, especially those steaming out of the RNC ... on the day prior to The Daily Show's response to Clint's crazy old senile man chair rant, they had on former RNC Chairman Michael Steele who told the truth about the stack of bullshit the current bunch of Republican hopefuls was spewing. 

Check out the full interview here.

Can't wait to see what The Daily Show does with the Chair Rant! (Go ahead, Clint – make ... no sense?!)

Yes indeed. These are the days of some FINE absurdities!

A robustly erratic week!

What a short, yet rapidly strange trip this week has been
Waking up most mornings, I roll over and turn affectionately to the sleek, sultry, purring thing next to me in bed – my Macbook Pro laptop – and proceed to fumble around like a teenager trying to unhook a bra for the first time, punching buttons and looking to see what might be new and interesting in the world.

I also go through my emails for the funny/lusty stuff I regularly get from my pal Don in (near) Toronto. But that's a whole other sordid story. It's the news (or what passes for news) that has been of note this past week. It's been a multi-faceted rumpus!

This past week has been ... interesting ... in the way that huge waves and voilent winds make ocean boat rides "interesting".

Give us back the Gold! 
Some medal winners at the Olympics had been caught doping and instantly disqualified, and forced to turn over their medals – thereby moving everyone else in the respective events' medal queue up a notch. New Zealand's own female shotput champ Valerie Adams jumped from Silver to Gold when the Gold winner (someone of questionable gender from Belorussia, with an unpronouncable name) made the drug testing meter go "ding ding ding!" And a few other folks got caught chem-cheating too.

So I quickly rubbed the sleep from my eyes and amended my ongoing 'chart' of Kiwi medal winners to reflect NZ athletes now had won SIX Golds (to Canada's ONE ... come on, Great White North, WTF?! You've been outclassed, outshone, and taken to school by a country that's 1/8th your population), and reposted said graphic to FacePlant for all to see and enjoy.

Absurdly, Adams seemingly got rattled prior to her turn at putt-ing for the (money) shot, when it was revealed some fuckwit in the NZ Olympic camp forgot to enter her name in the competition. Yeah, the one female athlete everyone here in NZ had been rabbiting on about for really having a massive chance of winning gold, and some dweeb in an office somewhere forgot to sort out her entry for the event? Think that person will ever work in a detail-oriented gig again? (Cue Tui advert: "Yeah, right!")

Then even more absurdly, a while later – when all of New Zealand was eager to see their 13 medal winning heroes show up back home for the massive celebration planned – Adams was not among the crew. She immediately buggered off from London to Sweden (!!!) where she regularly lives and trains (!!!) to compete in some other shot-put event.

Yes, really. I'm not kidding. There was another event looming large on the highly anticipated and much-bally-hoo'd world of shot-put events ... and really, you need to live in Sweden to train to huck an iron ball? New Zealand doesn't have the climate for such training? What's the missing ingredient? Absolut Vodka?

Come on, Valerie. Your country was cheering you on rabidly during the Olympics. They got behind you even when you only managed Silver. Then Kiwis lost their shit and really rallied 'round you when the cheat was exposed, and you got your justly-deserved Gold.

And then ... you couldn't flit back here for a few days to say "Thanks for all the support"? Or join your Olympic team-mates in a show of solidarity?

Try and imagine how much we all care about shot-put now.

Which of course begs the follow-up questions: other than the Olympics and the Commonwealth Games, why are there other shot-put events? How does anyone make money at promoting, or competing in, these arcane events anyway? Who ponies up enough sponsorship money for an athlete like Adams to train for 4 years leading up to an Olympics ... and what do they get back for their investment? The company name on the side of an iron shot? ... which can't be read at all, by anyone – even the shot-putters? This one eludes me.

And if a poll were to be taken, who in the WORLD would know there was another significant shot-put event so soon after the Olympics? Or even that there were even other shot-put events at all?

You'll take the mockery, and you'll LIKE it!
In a bit of a tangent from the Games being over, I stumbled onto the existence of a string of free Podcasts by American comedian Greg Proops. He has been cranking out regular weekly podcasts of his live gigs in bars and saloons and rumpus rooms around the world ... I've always liked Proops from the short bits I've seen of him on TV shows like Who's Line Is It Anyway?, Letterman and Conan (the first Conan shows, when he was on really late after Letterman, and also when he was new, edgy and actually funny).

Proops' podcasts are quite long – averaging out at well over an hour. He has a loyal legion of fans world-wide. He translates well to UK audiences – doesn't pander or wave his dick around like an arrogant uneducated fool, knows stuff about where he is, and learns more stuff from interacting with the audience (for an American comic, this is huge).

And he is prodigious. He's done tons of these gigs, it seems ... and as I started into them, I realised I had stumbled on the American version of another much-loved comedian, Eddie Izzard. The two are similar in that they're intelligent, well read, topical, have an expanded vocabulary, and are scintillatingly and cleverly scathing in their mockery of things that deserve to be mocked.

Proops dug in to the Olympics a fair bit over his 3-4 most recent 'casts, and in particular, spun out some really good stuff on the ponderous, questionable and bizarre job Danny Boyle did on the Opening Ceremonies. He also questioned the validity of certain sports within the game – as I also did in my last Blog. (*brushes my knuckles on my jacket, looks aloof and cool*)

And the man is screamingly funny. Given the length of each of these 'casts, he really gets to stretch out and show his chops. He has a sort of a template for his shows, but often gets lured off the plan, given absurd enough current events, or audience input. In a small way it is improv, but it's so much more. He has an agenda (a few actually) – to educate, enlighten, inform ... and of course, to rant and rage against complacency and 'idiocracy' (yes, just like the movie). He's an ardent feminist and regularly points out the world's indiscretions against women.

I have NO idea how he makes money on these shows – entrance to most of them are free for the live audience. And the Podcasts are free. I assume these are 'sparring matches' for him, keeping him fresh and alert and in the game for other projects. But man, what a treat. I can't get enough of them.

I've even interrupted my regular influx of downloaded TV shows and movies to listen to them in marathon stints.

A surprising suicide
I also awoke bleary-eyed one morning to learn that one of my favourite directors, Tony Scott, aced himself in grand style – with a plunge off a really high bridge in LA.

The jury's still out on why he may have done that ... and I'm hoping it's not another lame "I couldn't handle the success and fame" thing. I have no respect for anyone who does that ... Heath Ledger comes to mind. He just offed himself, leaving behind a family and people who gave a shit about him. He didn't have a fatal disease. He just decided he'd check out because the fame, fortune and adulation was too much. Fuck you, Ledger, you coward.

Tony Scott made some great movies and provided much entertainment. He was an action-driven counterpoint to his brother Ridley's more nuanced style (Ridley's my favourite director).

Still shaking my head about this one. Will we ever learn why Tony checked himself out? Stay tuned.

Crown jewels go viral
Yep, one of the UK's princes got caught having fun without clothes on ... and photographed, and of course, said pics were digitally warped around the world virally for all to see.

But in a surprising twist, young prince Harry was doing so with a nubile and attractive female. In Vegas. After also being filmed having drunken fun in a pool party with a bunch of like-minded funsters.

The horror! A young man with stacks of money and nothing but free time likes to have FUN! And have SEX! What is the world coming to?

Well all righty then! At least one of the Royals appears to be human. Go Harry. Considering all the embarrassing shenanigans from your father, the snootiness and aloofness of your granny, and the various sessions of ass-hattery from your other Royal relatives, who cares? This bit of news I liked.

Tour de Drugs
The week not even close to over, I awake once again to learn Lance Armstrong has given up his many-year battle to fight allegations he doped to win all 7 of his Tour de France events.

He's just thrown his hands in the air and said "Fuck it. Not gonna fight this any more".

Once again the jury's out on who's leading the charge on this, and just how they can 'prove' he used drugs in 7 annual events dating back to 1999. That's 13 years ago for the first one. Certainly there is only an extremely short launch window for testing for performance-enhancing drugs ... like say, 24-48 hours?

On one hand, this certainly seems like a witch hunt. But on the other hand, has someone – the USADA – finally had the balls (testicular cancer pun not intended) to pursue this properly?

We once again need to wait and see what happens – does the USADA have any sway or say in all of this? Or are they just being Attention Whores to get in the news?

Music writer and all-round witty guy Bob Lefsetz seems to think it's the former – that the USADA is the first agency to man up and say what's what.

Let's see what transpires.

A bad week for guys named Armstrong
Just back to add to this – to say Neil Armstrong has died.

First man on the moon and a real pioneer. I remember seeing the moon landing on TV as a 10 year old kid, and it completely captured my imagination. I went out and got models of the lunar landing, and collected the bubble gum cards. And I've been a space and sci-fi nut ever since – the other man who recently died who really sparked my imagination about all this was Ray Bradbury.

These men shall be missed.

e-Panhandling
The internet is a wondrous thing.

Besides all the stuff we've been used to doing with it for many years now (email, surfing for information, gaming, instant messaging, gambling, porn, running a business), now we have 'virtual' methods of sitting on a street corner with our hands out, begging for money.

This could be considered seeking out venture capital in an "e" way.

This could also be considered being lazy and looking for an easy way to get free money.

Here's the rumpus.

I have two friends who've looked to the 'net with the ultimate goal of using it as a tool for promoting and marketing a piece of their own artistic work – a book they have written.

Scenario 1
My mate can be called an established author, as she wrote and self-published (in printed version) her first novel 2-3 years ago. It was a wonderfully entertaining docu-drama about a place and a time in history, near and dear to her heart. She breathed real life and character into her heroine, the main character.

There were some self-promoting avenues available then, using the net, back in those days. Without spending much money (and without asking people for any money – she used her own), she did OK with this book – but of course did not instantly become a millionaire and a household name as an author.

She realised such things take hard work and time. You need to do the hard yards and get yourself established. Precious few get famous overnight and make fat stacks of cheddar ... and of the ones who do, their 'product' is often a flash in the pan, a fad that burns fast and bright and is just as quickly forgotten. (See: Rebecca Black's "Friday" atrocity).

She did look to her network of friends, acquaintances and business colleagues, as a method of both helping out if they felt compelled, when politely asked (with editing, proof reading and style suggestions) – and, as a way of "getting the word out". You know – "Hey, I've written a book, here's what it's about. Tell your family and friends!"

More recently, she launched into a second book. This novel was a departure in more ways than one – while the first effort was a historical drama, this new one was a modern horror/vampire tale. I haven't read it yet.

Once again, she self-published. Only this time, NOT with the idea of having a printed product ... she approached it completely from an e-book standpoint. She'd seen the studies and reports. People have been taking to the whole e-book idea rapidly, and in large numbers. So much so, that the printed-book business world (aka the "old school way of doing things") is starting to panic ...

And, realising the astounding number of ways you can self-promote now using the myriad social networking tools available on the 'net, she hunkered down and went to work – taking her finished product in hand, she got the e-book formatted and uploaded to a few different outlets (inexpensive ones like Smashwords, and established giants like Amazon and iTunes Bookstore). This of course costs a bit of money, but nothing like what it costs to go through an actual publishing house for printed books ... or even setting up a 'print on demand' thing like Amazon also offers. And certainly not $5 K in an iffy attempt at cashing in on some vague promises (more on this in Scenario 2).

They key here is the work she did herself. She gets up early every day (still does!) and goes to work – an oddly bootstrappy concept – and hammers websites dedicated to the book's genre (horror/vampires). She amasses reviewer names and has a Twitter, YouTube and Facebook account dedicated to promoting her book. She makes an e-nuisance of herself, but in a good way ... making a name for yourself with any artistic endeavour (be it writing, painting, film making, photography, etc) means going to work every day. And trying to make yourself known.

The 'net now allows us to do this. It's mostly free  – you do have to pay for a net connection and have a computer. It's really easy – you can do it in your pajamas, unshaven and unshowered, at home. You can sleep in and work nights.

But it's not automatic ... you have to go to work. You have to get up in the morning, and/or use all your free time, and focus on promoting yourself.

And now, there are also a number of (legit) websites that will help you – for lack of a better term – e-Panhandle. Yep, you can beg online for money.

Scenario 2
This part illustrates going entirely the 'e-Panhandling' route.

I first learned of these e-Panhandling promotional websites via a bounce from an article on Gizmodo, the site that features new and wondrous gizmos and tech toys. I subscribe to their emails, as often the gizmos are appealing. It's fun reading ... my dad used to get magazines like Popular Mechanics and Popular Science, and it was the same sort of thing. Fun articles on actual new gizmos, and some "what if" flights of fancy.

One day I read something on Gizmodo about a new iPhone case. This case seemed to be a hell of a good idea – shock and water-proof, not too bulky (I don't like the idea of getting a huge chunky case for my sleek iPhone – defeats the whole purpose of the sleekness of the design) ... AND, with a built-in solar charging panel! Imagine, not needing a charge cable when you're out and about for the day!

This really intrigued me. I read on, and determined this product didn't yet exist ... it was only just now being pitched as a concept, and was in development – the guys who envisioned it were going through a site called Kickstarter to e-Panhandle for funds.

The way Kickstarter works, you convince them your idea is legit and sane. You have done your due diligence, and you have a good idea (business plan) for how much it'll cost to take your idea from concept to production to finished product, ready for punters to buy.

If all this seems realistic to Kickstarter's gurus, they launch your plea for funds (here's the e-Panhandling part). You agree on a set dollar amount you need to get it all happening, and Kickstarter promotes the hell out of it, asking net-izens for 'donations'. People like me discover the campaign when other sites like Gizmodo catch wind of it, and mention it.

There is a time limit for the e-Panhandling project, and after you hit the deadline, if you don't make the nut in $ donations, your project is cancelled, and none of the donators get charged.

If the donation benchmark is achieved, it's a go – and for your donation, you get something. There are a number of donation levels, with one level being close to what a brand new case will cost you, once they retail the things.

It's of course a bit cheaper at this level, to make it appealing. So if you pony up the $100 for a donation to the cause (in this iPhone case scenario), and IF they make their agreed-on amount in donations (it was $75,000) you get a case (which would ultimately retail for $150) ... a $50 savings, and you feel good about being in on the ground floor of something new and cool.

I thought: "Good deal!" So I donated $100. It was win/win. If they make the nut, I get a case. If they don't, no cost to me. It was a success for these guys ... and very soon, I'll be getting this amazingly cool sounding iPhone case ... they're in the final stages of sending out the new cases to folks like me who fronted up with the $100.

The other side of this e-Panhandling thing isn't so cut and dried when it comes to how much work the original creator puts into it.

Another friend of mine is using a similar promotional website (like Kickstarter) to beg for money to get his novel published. The raised money for this particular scheme is handed over to a professional and established industry 'editor' who also claims to have his finger on the pulse of publishing house decision-makers – and promises to get the finished product on their desks.

Now – there's no actual guarantee the book will get published. But my pal is going through with the idea of trying to raise the $5 K anyway, by e-Panhandling ... in spite of already having been summarily separated from some of his own hard-earned money to have a couple of movie scripts "looked over" by an "industry professional" who promised to "get the scripts onto the desk of the guys who make the decisions".

Yeah – a lot of maybes there, and of course after the money and scripts were sent, no big movie deals were forthcoming. Money wasted, lesson learned? Clearly not.

What are the chances of a big publishing deal ensuing from a first-time novel going to some dude who's got his hand out waiting for his $5 K fee? Sure, he may have some long-ago industry cred from an editing standpoint. But who can guarantee such a thing as getting published and marketed after that? He doesn't work for the publishing company. He's his own gig, an editor. That's it.

But not only that ... I'm concerned that my pal seems far too eager to take the perceived easy route with this e-Panhandling site, and isn't contributing anything himself – money, or, the idea of going to work and approaching the whole project the same way my first friend did ... doing the hard yards, going to work every day.

And no – I haven't donated any money. I strongly feel the $5 K is going to disappear into the coffers of this "editor" and nothing will come of the whole plan of a published and marketed novel.

My pal could have launched his campaign at friends by saying "We've drained the savings and have $XX on loan from the bank to get this started. Now, can you help me reach the finish line with a few bucks? And while I wait for the donations to roll in, I'll be creating a FaceBook and Twitter and YouTube site for the book, and contacting some sci-fi websites and forums ... marketing and promoting the book!"

Nope. It was just "please give me money". No mention of any of his own dough or time.

The key issue (and main difference from my iPhone case scenario) is, first and foremost – the iPhone case was a physical product I wanted, and I'd get one cheaper than buying it later for retail, and it seemed the donation idea was surging along – the creators had done their business plan research, they'd kicked in a bunch of dough already with R&D, and Kickstarter agreed that they were on the right track.

Then there is asking friends to donate, and begging for more daily ... chipping in a cash donation to a pal who hasn't mentioned what he has put in cash-wise is a HUGE ask.

And then there is this modern era of many, many actual charities out there trying to raise funds to save lives ... looking for money to help cure diseases or feed famine-stricken or war-torn or oppressed populations.

It seems to be a massive bit of cheek for someone to come along and beg for some dough for a flight of fancy (pay for my novel to be published!) ... especially with no mention of how much of my pal's own life savings (or a credit loan from his own bank or credit card) is already being risked ... if any.

The first stage of my pal's plan here, with the raising of this money via the e-Panhandling site (and the subsequent begging of friends to front up with donations – the website doesn't seem to have attracted too many other punters from the ether to donate) is primarily to hand the $5 K raised over to this 'established industry editor' to edit, then push the novel on to be printed in a traditional (and outdated, and dying) way. Of course, the publishing company will promote and market the novel (says the editor). But how much marketing will happen? After the 'editor' takes his big fee, how much of that $5 K will be left for marketing and promotion? Even the entire $5 K wouldn't go far for that.

For this first stage of the plan ... the concept of looking to his immediate circle of friends for this portion of the game seems to have eluded my mate.

The circle of friends includes lots of people who believe in his creativity. At least one of these friends (ahem) has 'mad skills' as an editor (both grammatically, and in style/concept/content, as I'm a huge fan of the sci-fi genre). I also have a really good grip on what's needed to 'output' an e-book original manuscript, and how to get said e-book manuscript uploaded to Amazon, iTunes, and other sites (at fairly minimal cost – compared to handing over $5 K to this other dude with NO guarantees of quality or end result as a printed and promoted hard-copy novel).

Other friends in the immediate circle are also fans of the genre (sci fi) and are smart and educated, and could and would – if politely asked – read the manuscript and offer insights, suggestions, and constructive criticism.

Then of course, over and above this initial stage of polishing the manuscript to within an inch of its life and getting it formatted and up on the e-book outlets ... the going to work  part needs to start – the promoting, the Twittering, the FaceBooking, the YouTubing, and the pestering of sci-fi websites with information about the new book.

Get the e-book up and happening, and then once it's selling and gaining fame ... launch printed copies at people who want them, via a print-on-demand service, such as what Amazon provides ... for anyone who might not be into the whole e-book thing.

Sadly the allure of potential easy money (via the e-Panhandling site), without going to work and doing any grassroots promotion of the book ... and counting on all the donations to come from friends with no appearance of fronting up with any of his own money ... may spell failure for my pal.

With less than a day to go for the e-Panhandling site deadline, the $ nut is likely not going to be met.

And so perhaps the whole 'ask your friends for help instead of cash' idea may yet come into play.

Well, Kittens McTavish! I may have been listening to a bit too much Greg Proops ... he does have an element of a "common sense rant" to many of his Podcasts. (And that's a catch-phrase of his, too ... kittens!)

Yours in absurdity ...
Stevil

Ch-ch-ch-Changes

A genie gives you one wish ...
And you can't wish for more wishes. And the wish is specific to a category –  "You get one thing to change about yourself".

What would you change?

There is the realm of realism, of course. Perhaps straighter teeth, becoming more fit, achieving higher self-confidence?

But what if the genie said "Defying physics is OK too." Little kids (and comic book nerds) would of course wish for some sort of super power. Adults may as well ... and then there is the idea of altering something about yourself that would otherwise be pretty improbable to change without loads of painful surgery.

Like being taller ... or shorter.

I recently got the chance to experiment with the idea of changing my height – as a follow-on from my most recent surgery, the amputation of the lower part of my left leg (to match the missing part of my right leg).

At some point after the most recent operation, as I was mulling things over in hospital, it occurred to me that I was now easily "height adjustable".

I could get taller. Or shorter. Without much trouble at all.

All it would take would be some quick adjustments on the part of the fine folks at the Wellington Limb Centre who devise my prosthetics.

Now – at 6'7" (or as we better know it, 5'19"), getting taller would be pretty ludicrous. But the idea of shrinking a bit suddenly began to intrigue me.

Don't get me wrong. I've always loved who I am – and being 6'7" has been more than just an accepted part of me. The advantages far outweigh the disadvantages.

However – there is the odd day I'd like to go out in public and not be noticed for being being that tall. Sometimes when shopping for pants, the style choices can be a bit limiting. And not every doorway is at the architectural standard of 6'8". (In particular, in houses here in Wellington built at the turn of the 20th century by midget Englishmen, they're often not even close).

These aren't huge aspects to my life that I'd go out of my way to change. But now that it's easy to change such a thing ...

Here's the rumpus.

I was awaiting a phone call from my man Ray at the Limb Centre, for my first inspection to see if I was ready to be fitted with my new leg. I was going to bring up the "can I be a bit shorter?" idea when I got there, but suddenly Ray called – and one of the first things he said was "How do you feel about getting a bit shorter?"

I had to laugh. Ray of course was coming at this idea from a safety angle – specifically, the concept of reducing the risk of me toppling over, orbiting and landing in a far less stylish fashion than the Mr Curious rover that just set down on Mars.

As I learned in hospital, things change rather dramatically when you lose your second leg via amputation ... for starters, getting around just on crutches in the beginning means exerting upwards of 400% more energy than any two-legged person would expend just casually moving about.

And the idea of having two fake legs means that also having a really high centre of gravity is a lot more risky than say Peter Dinklage of Game of Thrones fame suddenly.

And so, after yesterday's appointment with Ray, I'm now 6'5". A full 2" shorter than I've been since I hit my full height around the age of 14 or 15.

I don't have my new left leg yet (that's a couple of weeks away). But I of course noticed a distinct difference in how high I was off the ground as I crutched around a bit after the shrinking session.

I'll post an update when I do get my new leg and start beasting around on it ... along with, of course, all the absurd things that will no doubt ensue as I encounter what life will now be like as a slighter shorter fellow.

But I won't be changing the title of this Blog. I like the ring it has ... but if you must, you can now think of it as Prince changing his name to (unpronounceable symbol), or, 5'17". And I won't be altering the data on my passport until I go to change it when it expires.

The Games began ... are now over ... and some were just painfully unwatchable
Ah, the Olympics. This year (2012) the Summer Games were more of an interest to me than perhaps ever before. This might be because I've been sitting at home in front of my gigantic TV watching them a lot more than I ever have.

And this year I had two countries to cheer for. New Zealand far and away outclassed and out-won more Gold than Canada, for some reason ... in the conventional sense (the Kiwis won 6, Canada just 1). But also in the "per capita" sense, New Zealand really blew Canada away. This tiny country of just over 4 million people took my homeland of just shy of 35 million people to school. Bigtime. (This begs the question, WTF, Canada? But we may never know what, or why ...)

In fact, using the per capita measuring equation, New Zealand was 4th on the overall list of countries (behind Granada at #1, the Bahamas at #2, and Jamaica at #3) – outclassing the USA, China, and most other nations. This wee country of friendly, fun, can-do people really does punch well above its weight on the international sporting stage.

I found myself way more interested in heretofore never-watched sports like women's field hockey (holy shit, especially the Kiwi and Dutch teams ... the fit, mesmerizing women are just absolutely stunningly gorgeous!) I of course also enjoyed watched incredibly fit women play volleyball (beach of course, but also, indoor), as well as the ripping-fit ladies competing in the Heptathlon (something about excelling in many sports tends to really firm up womens' bodies to the point where the best ones have six-packs and absolutely NO fat whatsoever). Naturally, sports featuring hot, fit women in bathing suits are also fun to watch, too.

The "marquee" sports like the men's 100-metre dash is of course compelling. And I also really got into watching rowing, canoeing, and the other variations of propelling craft on water – both women and men.

I determined a main feature of a sport necessary for me to like it (apart from featuring fit, gorgeous women) was the length of time, and the amount of excitement/contact involved.

Sports or games I found virtually unwatchable included marathons (running and ... swimming? ...), the 50 KM speed-walking event (come on, really? This was just flat-out ridiculous. How did this become an event?) There were others ...

Judo and even Tae Kwondo in the Olympics is just PC-homogenised and sanitised to the point of WTF-ness. Judo was just two people in pajamas pushing each other and sweating a lot. Tae Kwondo did involve kicking, but not punching ... but it was just an elaborate 3D video game, what with the sensors involved to score kicks. After watching a fair bit of UFC/MMA combat shows on TV, where actual fighting happens ... the Olympics versions of these sports is just *yawn*.

Weight lifting is simply not watchable. Nor are extended sessions of sailing races. And while I liked the actual medal-winning parts of a lot of the sports, the lengthy heats and qualifying rounds for some of them were ... really not interesting. Note to the IOC: let's settle the "who gets to compete for medals" part BEFORE the actual Games, hmmm-kay?

Watching heat after heat of 3 really good competitors being trailed pathetically by 5 or 6 miles-behind also-rans is just not necessary. And it's incredibly boring to watch. And I'm sure, embarassing for the schmucks in the boats just bobbing around way, way behind the actual real world-class athletes.

I enjoy looking at the synchro-swimming girls just as they march out in their swimsuits. But the allure stops there ... and there are a bunch of skills events like shooting and archery that don't lend themselves to viewing (perhaps if they included goalies!) and the traditional ones like javelin, discus and hammer – while impressive for how far people can hurl things – are just not meant to be watched. We can hear about these after the fact and be just as "wow"ed.

All of these unwatchable ones are of course best learned about after the fact – if your team wins something, you can do a brief fist-pump and think "Yeah!" If you don't have a horse in any of those races, well ... *yawn*.

And speaking of horses, I am not a fan of any of the equine events either. I'm sure there is some level of talent in training horses to dance, prance and leap like that. But I don't need to watch it. Nice hats, though.

And yet, as much as I enjoyed the sports unique to the Olympics, I know I won't be thinking about these sports again ... for at least 4 more years.

My final note to the IOC ... I understand the quest to pad out the Games to let in more interesting and potentially watchable stuff. But you really need to look hard at what's already there.

Cut out some of these really lame so-called 'sports' altogether. And streamline the heat/qualifying process for other ones so we're not sitting through agonising, interminable sessions of humiliated also-rans before medals are even considered.

The Games could easily be 10 days, not 17.

Look ma, no feet!

Broken promises
I know I promised not to blather on about my hospital hijinks a while back. But maybe this most recent deviation is worth an exception.

The other (lower) leg was amputated about three weeks ago. In a flurry of infectious activity, over maybe a year, I went from "my left leg is perfect!" to losing two toes to infections, to flaring up twice in three weeks and just having the same op as I did on the right leg ... only this time, instead of taking 9 years to come to a decision, I took maybe 90 seconds.

And so I'm home again, home again – but not so jiggity. And definitely not so much of the jigging. I'm happy the damn infection issues are now a thing of the past. But it's a bit of a drag being all gimpy again for a short time ... waiting to heal.

The best thing about it is, I know the routine now. I won't be wondering and fretting about a prosthetic being able to hold me up, or work right (the "trust" issue I had to work through with the first op > prosthetic took a while to hurdle).

So that's it – another chop job, both legs now symmetrical in that the amputation on the second one mirrors the first, below the knee, same length. The only other down side: I fell a week after the op, exploding the stitches and leaking a bit of pinot noir on the bathroom floor ... which required me to go back into the hospital for a tidy up and re-stitching. That, thankfully, only took three days before I was home again.

Bad timing for a visitor
Of all the rat-bastard things ... this latest op derailed some potential for some really good fun. I don't get many international visitors here. And I was due for one ... 

For months now a Canadian friend (Elly) had been planning and plotting a trip from Aussie's Gold Coast to come to New Zealand to tour and visit. My 'surprise' op was exactly a week before her arrival.

So I was in no shape to be the usual jocular tour/pub guide that I am famous for. It was great seeing Elly again after 12 or so years, albiet it was a too-short visit. She blizted most of NZ in 4 weeks, and she had a blast. Which is great! At least I could be like Denzel Washington's excellent portrayal of a complete invalid in The Bone Collector, and provide computer-driven research and hints and whatnot for Elly, from my chair-bound position at home.

But enough of all that. I fully intend to be vertical and mobile again by September, after breaking in a new prosthetic. Then I'll be done with all this hospital nonsense, and I can get back to living again.

Multi-media overkill – not liking "Liking" so much
While I enjoy the all-in-one connectivity that FacePlant allows me, for keeping in touch with international friends on a regular basis ... and for having almost as many bars/pubs/breweries/wineries on my connectivity list as friends, keeping me informed of impending fun looming on the horizon ... the latest trend of absolute oversaturation from the movie and TV regurgitation machines has stepped well past the Absurdity Line in The Sand.

Once upon a time, news of an exciting new movie or show would trickle down the pipe with a bit of a tease in a newspaper or magazine. You'd have to be looking for such things.

Or you'd read an original novel and then catch wind of a movie being made of it. I can recall thinking: "Imagine the stunning visual extravaganza that the movie version of Dune would be!" (Disclaimer: that one fizzled badly and totally sucked. But it sure was fun imagining how great it would be!) Maybe instead we should consider The Godfather as a proper example here ... or Blade Runner.

Then, if you were a regular movie-goer, you might catch a 'trailer' of said movie (a WELL MADE trailer, not something that pretty much divulged 98% of the plot - I'm looking at YOU,  Prometheus!), or a cool 'preview' poster in the theatre (which would really fan the flames) ... or a brief TV advert flogging said TV show.

Then your imagination would take over, and you would whip yourself into a frenzy about the impending new bit of visual entertainment. Word of mouth amongst friends would ignite, too. You would plan ahead (using that memory thing we all used to have?) and go to the cinema (or be in front of the TV) on the day ... I can recall seeing posters for the first Star Wars movie when I was in high school. The 'grapevine' of rampant enthusiasm was a pandemic ... we couldn't wait to go! It was going to be so excellent!  We planned to meet to see it (without the use of cell phones and incessant texting!) 

And then happened, and it was goddamn excellent!

Now, it seems the media machine thinks we have NO memory OR imagination. Or ability to plan.

Here's the rumpus.

Game Of Thrones – I discovered, purely by chance, what this was all about, thanks to a casual chat with a neighbour on a bus-ride home from work one day. He told me about the book series (I'd never read nor heard about it), and how I should keep an eye out for the impending show. I did just that, and was hooked from day one.

Then the show took off like a wildfire. Everyone was talking about it. The 'net chatter was incessant. I downloaded the e-books and rediscovered the pleasure of marathon sessions of reading thrilling adventure stories again. It was immense fun!

And then ... overkill kicked in. I 'liked' the GoT page on FacePlant because I thought I'd get some hints as to what upcoming (attractive) actresses would show up in ensuing episodes and seasons. (Yep, I'm a heterosexual male, and the show had already demonstrated that it would provide me with plenty of realistic and scintillating scenes of nudity and sex with really hot women). And boy, did I ever get some hints ... and way WAY too much more stuff ... repetitive clubbing over the head ... with a daily barrage of images, videos, behind-the-scenes shenanigans, games, what-if scenarios, and just about anything a marketing weasel could concoct came flooding through. 

It's too much. I don't need to know – or be involved in – that much tangent marketing, for something that is simple (yet well done) video entertainment. I don't need to engage in live chats with the author or actors. I don't need to buy the video games. I have a good imagination. My memory is still relatively OK (disclaimer: dependent on the amount and frequency of either prescribed and/or other types of pharmaceuticals). I know when the show/movie is coming, I've seen the one trailer/ad. I can plan.

The Newsroom – Tie game here with Breaking Bad for the best thing on TV right now. Aaron Sorkin, creater and writing wizard who brought us the most excellent West Wing came storming out of the gates a few weeks ago (more or less by surprise – an odd exception to the new 'pre-overkill' marketing rule) with a show that is just hands-down, astoundingly fantastic. He is "the man" for dialogue, character and scenario development. And the cast, much like West Wing, is a couple of 'name' actors and a whole pack of newcomers. After a few eps, you can almost see who is the somewhat interchangeable (Martin Sheen's) President here, and who is Josh, and Leo – and Donna, Toby and Charlie. But who cares ... they're real people. They react to things the way we would (if we were White House staffers, or in the case of The Newsroom, hot and important TV news people). Yeah, right ...

Then the overkill began. Once again I 'liked' The Newsroom's FacePlant page (hmm, I see a trending common denominator here ...) and the same sort of round-the-clock saturation began. Watch previews of the upcoming ep NOW! Watch recaps of the last eps! Engage in chat with the star(s)!

Nope. Not gonna do it. I'll still sneak peeks at what babe is going to portray what future character ... but methinks it's about time I stop "liking" things so much on FacePlant.

I realise the overkill isn't just specific to FacePlant ...  spills over to newspapers, magazines, radio and TV too – it isn't just a FacePlant symptom. Ever facet of media seems to think we have NO imagination, NO memory, can't PLAN ... and if we aren't reminded of things every 15 minutes (of fame?) then we might get Ooo! shiny object on the ground! distracted, and forgo their product for some other sexy new strumpet of a thing.

Overkill of the real, blatant kind
Hey America (and Canada now) ... enough with the whole "solving your mental issues with guns" thing, OK? And mass media? Stop demonizing and anti-hero-ing these barely-human wastrels. Watch this inciteful bit of musing by the UK's Charlie Brooker and take notes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PezlFNTGWv4

And goddamn your freedom-loving, jingoistic asses ... stop making ridiculously overpowered automatic weapons so readily available to any assclown and toolbag with enough money ... and stop ignoring the blatant mental health issues in both countries. 


Sure, Canada's gun laws are slightly more constrictive than the Excited States of 'Mer-ca, but it's painfully apparent – if a thing (guns, knives, or methods for making bombs) exists, it is available ... and deranged mu-phukkas will find a way to obtain them to try and solve their shithouse-rat-crazy problems.


Film-maker seeks Editor to reign him the hell IN ...
This blog entry is really becoming a rambling hodge-podge of topics. But this does dove-tail in with media saturation and clinically insane people with easy access to firearms ...

Suddenly, lots of movies are marathon-length, poorly-edited, butt-numbing festivals of directors saying: "Look what I can do! LOOK! No, stay in your seat for another 90 minutes, I'm not done yet. LOOK!!!"


I blame Peter Jackson. Sure, the guy's somewhat creative, and he was in the right place at the right time with the (then) new availability of mind-boggling special effects software. But holy christ on a pogo stick ... the Lord of the Rings things just got WAY out of hand length-wise.

And as proven by his successive movie King Kong, it wasn't just a case of the LOTR subject matter being too rich to edit down to a tolerable 90 minutes per movie ... Jackson just has to shoot (and include) every little twinkling of an idea that splooges forth from his mind.

Now we have ass-clamping marathons with the Chris Nolan Batman movies. (Note: not all of them ... the first one of the trilogy was a magnificent piece of work, tightly edited and presented, and it was a dazzling, dark reworking of the comically over-wrought original ones presented by Tim Burton).

At this writing I have not seen 2012's newest offering, The Dark Knight Rises. But it's reported to be just shy of 3 hours long. THREE HOURS. These maniacs are asking a LOT of a public they seem to otherwise think has ZERO focus, memory and attention span, when it comes to marketing ... sure, thrash the hell out of us with a non-stop blitzkreig of pre-advertising for your movies (in 15-to-30 second increments) ... THEN you expect us to sit still for 3 hours to actually WATCH it?

Yeah, right ...

I re-watched The Dark Knight (the 2nd movie) a couple of days ago, to remind myself what irked me so much about it ... the damn thing is just too long. It's got a really good premise. It's well-filmed. The actors are great. The action is legendary. But holy shit ... OVERKILL!

When I first saw it in the theatre, I emerged confused and more than a bit irate that it didn't stick to the first movie's fine example of how to make a tight, well-done movie ... my first re-watching some months later, with a DVD, re-affirmed this feeling – excessive scenes clubbing home the point.


We get it. The Joker is NUTS. Batman can't take that extra step over the line to just kill him, he's too moral. MOVE THE FUCK ON. 


Much like how massive increases in computer memory and storage space have suddenly given software programmers Carte Blanche to be horribly sloppy in making software (which results in grotesquely bloated, huge programs) ... giving these big directors free reign to churn out 3+ hour-long monstrosities of badly-edited movies needs to stop.

Maybe Peter Jackson got the hint ... just recently he mused (publicly) that perhaps this newest two-part Hobbit thing he's embroiled in should be THREE movies instead of two ... as he has so many ideas he wants to include.

Maybe.

That's enough babbling from ME for now ... speaking of presentations that are too long!

Winter musings

Now is the winter of our ... malcontent?

It's June, so winter in Wellington is here.

Today it is sunny and will hit 13 or 14º C. And lo, the people will whinge ...

"It's cold out", it seems, is all relative.

I still wear shorts (I get a 'pass' at work due to the prosthetic leg) and rarely if ever wear a jacket. I determined if I am outside, I am walking towards the bus from my house, or vice versa to get home ... or I'm outside of a warm building for maybe 2 minutes to get lunch.

The rest of the time I'm on a really hot bus (thanks to Pacific Island drivers who like to re-create their home country's climate on board) or a building (which all seem to be cranked up to 25º C for some bizarre reason).

Yet people stare at me and ask me how I could be just wearing shorts and a shirt when "It's so COLD out!"

Speak to the Canadian hand.

Encouraging words


Cards are whipped around the office fairly regularly – birthdays, weddings, prolonged illnesses .... and babies.

I'm usually never at a loss for words. And usually, I like to write something amusing. But I reign it in when it comes to babies. What are you meant to say? I know what I WANT to say ... but I grow weary of the whole villagers-torches-pitchforks thing as I'm chased out of the place.

Once though ... just once ... I'd like to scribble down something along the lines of "Way to fuck! Wow, that one really took didn't it?"

Or maybe "Excellent work on the whole procreation thing – what's the world count now, 6 billion and 97?"

No, I don't have kids ... nor will I. Why do you ask? Ha ha.

Video killed the radio star ... and the late-night office worker


I was part of a team on the 48 Hour Crazy Video Competition a couple of weeks ago – as Editor. This was no end of fun! For those not familiar ... at 7 pm on that Friday you are assigned a genre. You then have until 7 pm on Sunday (48 hours) to script, shoot, edit, and render a movie to turn in for consideration. Said movie can be from 2 to 7 minutes long.

Sounds easy? Ha ha.

Our genre was horror: a late-night office worker gets all haunted (then killed) by some nasty ghosts. In white lab coats.

We didn't quite complete ours, due to running out of time – it was fairly together for the vid clips being edited in a relatively coherent fashion. But we needed some sound, sound FX and music. Some of our clips didn't have sound, and some needed augmentation. However, in spite of the brilliant direction by Julian F., we just ran out of clock.

Just wait til next year ... we will crush the bastard!

'Tis the (rugby) season

I'm once again in hospital (blah blah same old) and two of my three flatmates in the room are young lads in with broken legs from a rugby game. They're pretty messed up and will be off their feet for some time. First time for both of these lads too ... it certainly sucks for them, but I've been there (well not broken, but actually legless) and I know how frustrating it is to be bed-ridden and only able to hobble on crutches.

These guys are having rough luck getting fed too ... not sure why, but they keep getting passed by for meals. And there's nothing like a starving 20-something guy grumbling about being starving. I have also been there. No fun.

Fests galore on the horizon

It is heartening to note there are two beer festivals, a wine fest, and a house party featuring a good mate (Andrew) presenting his myriad home-brew concoctions for our imbibing pleasure at his home. June will be a sodden, fun, excellent month! Nothing really absurd here, except possibly the names the various brewers come up with for their beers and ales. Creativity knows no bounds with these folk!

Gunplay by wanna-be gangsta toolbags in Toronto

OK you backwards-hat-wearing, droopy-drawer-dragging, hoodie-hiding-behind jackwagons.

Get a life and stop pretending you're in a rap video with all this cap-busting in crowded places.

You're killing people. So far one, anyway, from the Eaton Centre shooting yesterday. Many were wounded.

Not long now and you wastes of space will be meeting some REAL criminals. Big, badass, and more than happy to treat you like the worthless little bitches you are. Enjoy jail, and the rest of your life as a 'bottom' and a 'salad-tossing felcher'. Fuckwits.

Hoping for release tomorrow

Not to go into any details re: this hospital visit, but, it's been a really short one. Everything seems to be fixed. Just need my Main Man Nigel to clear me tomorrow morning to go home.

Bring it on, Nigel. It's no fun here and the bar service is abysmal.

Advertising and marketing - how the fuck does it work?

Another visit to the Wine (and food) show transpired a couple of weekends ago. The usual rumpus also transpired – consumed vast quantities of wine, along with some beer, liquor, and liqueurs.

And I ran into another "business person" helming a booth at the show who had no idea how advertising and marketing worked. This was at the Prenzel's booth.

On display were a large number/variety of flavoured liqueurs. As per every other booth in the place, you could rock up and ask for samples. Then maybe you bought something, maybe you didn't. Most booth owners/business people didn't expect EVERYONE to buy.

And so I did just that. Asked for a sample, then another ... then got to #3, and was told by the clueless woman at the booth that I would "Have to buy something in order to get any more samples".

Riiiiiiight. So when you take out a magazine or newspaper ad, with a coupon in there for 15% off your product, do you then drive around to everyone's house who subscribes to those publications, demanding they buy your stuff? Or stand in the bottle shop and watch for people with coupons, and tell them they need to also buy MORE than just one, to get the savings?

Get a clue, you worthless bint. Some people buy some, some just sample and move on. If your product's any good, you will sell some. This is how marketing and advertising works.

And that's about it for now.

Hopefully out of yon hospital tomorrow ...












Google+:

'via Blog this'

Onwards through the fog ... once more, into the breach!

And the beatings will continue until morale improves. Yarr.

So, what absurdities have crossed my transom of late?

Well.

At work, we had to shift up a floor due to our regular floor getting renovated. We are the 2nd last floor out of 5 in the company to have this done ... yet, it seems now all these 'renovations' entail are new carpets and a lick of paint on the walls. This doesn't seem to be much of a renovation, or even a good reason to cause an entire floor of many employees to need to temporarily move up a floor for a couple of months.

Oh, there is also talk of improved air conditioning and heating. And pigs will fly ... never have I witnessed a concept like air-con go so totally ungrasped by a city. I've been in many office buildings here, and not a single one has sensible or properly functioning aircon via the thermostats.

Is this some sort of Holy Grail technology, or quantum engineering that is impossible to attain? Well, since the population of Canada (or at least the percentage of same who work in offices) hasn't frozen to death since ever ... the answer is: "How about NO, you crazy Dutch bastard?"

Yet it seems undoable here. Twiddling with the thermostat in any office in Wellington has about the same effect as pushing the traffic light 'crosswalk' button does for pedestrians. It is an inert object that merely gives frustrated people something to do while waiting for the natural scheme of things to fall into place – whether it be a 'green crossing man' signal appearing, or the ungodly sweatshop/hothouse effect of an office heating system gone completely off the rails to correct itself.

And of course on a rare blue-moon day where a thermostat setting DOES work, the females in the office crack it up to 28 or even 30º C ... and your's truly with the manly Canadian circulatory system sweats bullets and passes out by noon of severe dehydration.

The crazed monkey-like shenanigans by my co-workers (leading up to our move) was quite amusing to observe. Our instructions were to stick labels on all the big things that wouldn't fit in boxes, and put anything smaller from our immediate workspace into boxes. Then, men with trolleys would come and move things. Pretty straightforward.

This is an activity I managed to do in about 25 minutes, and that included me stopping and getting a coffee and chatting to folks in the café for 15 minutes during that time frame.

The rest of the panic-mavens on the floor seemed to need DAYS to accomplish this. And in doing so, the collective hive-mind ran around laughing maniacally at things that weren't funny, and talking loudly about the apparent awesomeness of putting stuff in boxes entails. There are days when I wish I was that easily amused.

Of course there is an element in the office that needs to constantly find something to whinge about, no matter what. We were told (in no uncertain terms) that part of the re-furnishing of our original office space will include new desks ... but not the kind we like and have already ... the kind  that have an "L" shape curve to them, which facilitates the type of work we do nicely. No, we are all going to get brand new straight tables.

Inconvenient? Yes. Were we consulted about our needs? No. But this is working life ... management usually has some level of power-mad dickishness about its ways, no matter where you work. Sometimes they pass senseless edicts for twisted, psychotic reasons, and you have to suck it up and keep plodding along if you want your bag of sheckles on payday.

Amusingly, after much pleading and hand-wringing, we finally got someone in management to admit the only reason they were doing this to us was, they wanted a more streamlined look to the office floor, where everyone had these shiny new straight desks ...

Then the Moaning Myrtles obtained more fodder for the Whinge Mill. A diagram was emailed around to us all, demonstrating where we'd all be once we moved back to our original floor ...  and how they envisioned the desks to be placed ... and there were all our new straight desks drawn in.

And in each mid-level managers office was an "L" shaped desk.

The sudden barrage of emails from the afflicted, slighted, and perpetually grouchy was a sight to behold.

But enough about work. It's paying the bills, and I enjoy it.

There were a couple of booze fests of late that were no end of fun (and there was nothing really absurd about them, except at the beer fest, the percentage of alcohol in most of the samples on offer was REALLY high. Hence its name: "X Ale Fest".  But that's an absurd thing that's FUN).

And come to think of it, the Scotch fest also involved overproof samples (or "cask strength" as it's properly called). I learned something about that too! So the event wasn't all about erasing brain cells ...

The scotch that comes out of the barrels upon being distilled and aged is, in fact, considerably stronger than the 40% abv stuff that we get in retail stores. Sometimes even twice as strong. So the canny Scots need to water their fine nectar down a bit, so it meets the rules and regs.

But, at these tastings, they wheel in the full-meal-deal, the real McCoy, the 100% rocket fuel of the gods for us to sample. It was ... magnificent.

As with all things involving alcohol, new friends were met and ensuing fun times aprés fest were had in bars around the city. Here's a shout-out to Andrea from Austria, and Rachel from England. If it weren't for alarming amounts of booze encouraging us to wander around to a variety of pubs and bars late at night, I never would have met either of you. Cheers!

Now on to movie premiers – specifically, The Avengers. This long-awaited movie showed up here in New Zealand a couple of weeks ahead of the release in North America. I have no clue why. But, my friends in Canada are nearly apoplectic over having to wait to see it, AND to having to put up with my rave reviews about it.

This movie is nearly as magnificent as the cask-strength scotch – the perfect finale to the lead-up of several individual superhero movies from the recent past (Thor, Hulk, Iron Man and Captain America). Masterfully done, the dialogue and story is excellent. There are genuinely funny moments. There is Scarlett Johannson and Cobie Smulders in skin-tight black lycra.

I feel safe and secure ... 

And action a-plenty. I will see this again before it departs the theatres. Kudos to Joss Whedon for impeccable writing and directing, too. Well done!

Absurdity rears its fickle head in the NHL playoffs. The highest-ranked team of the 2012 regular season – the Vancouver Canucks – were unceremoniously beaten like a red-headed stepchild on a rented mule playing a gong, and were blown out in 5 games by the LA Kings. This re-defines the concept of choking, taking it to entirely new levels. Way to go guys. Now with the Ottawa Senators out, losing to the Rangers in 7 games (kind of expected there), once again no Canadian teams are in it. However, there are still lots of Canadian players on the US teams. So go ... Rangers, I guess? So long as the games are top notch, I have no real favourite.

Well in spite of a long and dedicated session of drinking yesterday, I am once again hangover-free. I have the rest of today and tomorrow to lounge about ... this has been a 5-day holiday thanks to a mid-week actual holiday last week (ANZAC Day). I added two of my own annual leave days, and voila, 5 straight days off!

Managed a few nights 'out on the turps', as the saying goes here. One of them involved seeing The Avengers, then eating at the spectacular Italian restaurant here, Vivo. Also a bottle of Spanish wine at the new Ancestral. Very swanky.

As to my ingestion of beer ... special thanks goes out to Andy at the Fork & Brewer pub for preventing me from leaving too soon, before most of the keg of Pot Kettle Black could be consumed ... possibly just by me. And the fine folks at the Little Beer Quarter have a fun spot for ravaging livers and brain cells, too. 

Yours in absurdity,

Stevil