Saturday, September 1, 2012

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. 

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!





Saturday, August 25, 2012

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










Tuesday, August 14, 2012

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.




Sunday, July 22, 2012

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:


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!





Wednesday, June 6, 2012

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 ...












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Saturday, April 28, 2012

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

Sunday, March 11, 2012

What the ... it's MARCH already?

Whoever has their foot stomped down firmly on the gas pedal of the big "Time" car ... can you dial it back a bit, there, Chester? 

We're skidding around corners a lot. 

And we nearly ran over that drunken bum on the sidewalk. (No, it was NOT me ...)

So what's been the rumpus?

I got past my 53rd birthday in February via some semi-belated, alcohol-fuelled fun with mates here in Wellington. Wasn't a barn-burner, but it was a good time. 

During that fun night, there was brief interlude checking out a new "shooters only" place, The Shack on Manners St. – a hole in the wall where you just stand and pound shooters. There are no chairs. Three bartenders just handing over shooters to eager funsters, who (like us) were just too impatient to walk another half a block to an ACTUAL bar. An odd little concept. But fun.

Also, The Shack had three enormous bouncers outside – all dressed alike, in head-to-toe black (of course) and with some sort of puffy vests on, making them look like paramilitary SEAL guys. Just how rough did this tiny phonebooth of a bar get later on? Any more than 8 people in it, and you couldn't pull back your arm to hit anyone.

I'll likely never know. This was a one-off "Let's go see!" at the behest of Tina, who was already pretty full of vodka at that point. 

Fun new concept I invented: Or at least thought about for a second, and didn't check to see if anyone else has thought of this ...

Over the Xmas holidays I encountered this a fair bit. When being subjected to someone drunkenly blathering on about nothing, I suddenly thought it was just like a jazz concert emanating from the general vicinity of their face. 

There are noises coming out, and occasionally a noise you recognise slips by. But generally, it's a stream of stuff that is best listened to as background noise. There is no understanding it completely, if you're not a jazz musician (or really drunk). Don't get me wrong, I like jazz. But when emanating from someone's face when you expect straightforward rock ... it can get old, fast.

Is there a special school for Landlords, where they learn to be lazy, cheap bastards? – I generally like my current Landlord, except ... he has begun to exhibit the tell-tale traits of every other rat-bastard swine Landlord I've ever had ... aka, someone who maybe should have thought more carefully when the idea of becoming a Landlord struck him as wise, prudent, moneymaking scheme, requiring little or no effort on his part.

You have to spend SOME money on the place when shit breaks. Applying sticks and mud from the yard to busted-ass stuff is not the way to go.

To clarify ... the place I rent now is fantastic – for me. JUST me. It was billed as a 2-bedroom, but in fact it's a one bedroom with a den (or a play room for the cats). There is no closet in said second bedroom. And, the big bay window overlooking the green valley below has a propensity for falling out into said valley, because it is as old as the house, and is held in by a couple of .99 cent hinges, centrifugal force contingent on gravity, and apparently, the crossed fingers of The Landlord. 

The Landlord expressed surprise no one was biting to rent the place when I rocked up and decided to take it last year ... a good 6 months since he had the place listed for rent. And the reason is, it's not a 2 bedroom. Simple as that. And it needs just a BIT of work here and there ... 

Also it's an old place, turn of the century (two centuries ago), and a fair bit of the wood hasn't aged well, and isn't prone to accepting and keeping screws in place. 

Like where window hinges go. 

A smaller front window (outside my bedroom) fell out and broke, on the patio next to us, the day Brandon drove me home from yet another hospital stay. We were sitting there on the deck, enjoying a beer (because what better thing to immediately consume upon arriving home from a hospital stay could there be?) and the bedroom window just tottered out of the frame like an old man losing his grip on his walker ... and smashed. That really harshed our buzz.

Which made me see a truth: a blind baby could break into this place with a butter knife. Or maybe just patience ... stand there on the patio for a while, and wait for a window to fall out.

But I didn't care all that much. I live at the end of a dead-end road, that's narrow and difficult to navigate at the best of times. Add night, rain, fog, and a general feeling of "Jesus, they're going to kill me!" to the mood of a fleeing B&E guy, and it's downright perilous.

Plus I'm down a set of precarious, pre-Columbian steps. The escape routes for would-be B&E people who might be casing the joint aren't many, and WOULD in fact lead to being easily caught if anyone was at home, or was coming home right behind them –  (1) Back the way you came, up the precarious steps and down the really narrow and steep road, and; (2) Over the railing down the steep, deadly drop into the valley. (Option #2 is also Option #1 for what I would consider helping a B&E person with, if I caught them in the act).

So I reckoned it was considerably safer than a place in a busy 'hood on the flatlands of Wellington.

It's especially nice for the cats (it's a feline Disneyland around here) ... as it's mostly jungle, and the dead-end street means no traffic. And as it's mostly nice jungle full of cool birds (like the native Kaka and heaps of others), I love it too.

The landlord has materialised a couple of times to do promised yard work (such that my "yard" is) with the cutting of foliage via a big, loud, manly gas-powered weed whacker. I even sat outside one of those times, to drink beer in the sun on the patio, and watch him slave away. It's apparently hard, sweaty work trying to balance on a steep incline to whack weeds with a big, heavy, gas-smoke-spewing weed whacker too. Heh. 

Then just after the new year, another shining example of Landlord Swinishness emerged.

I'm on the top floor of this house; there is one other apartment under me. A lovely couple from Manchester (Andy & Sarah) moved in shortly after I did last year. They explained to the landlord that they'd be wanting it until the end of February, as that's when they planned on continuing their extended work/holiday tour of New Zealand, and points beyond. This was agreed on by all parties.

Over the past year, I got to know Andy & Sarah. Really nice folks. 

For reasons I will never understand, the landlord fronted up to them in January, and essentially told them they were out at the end of January – a month early. I suspect perhaps he did this as he didn't want to go through another 'dry' period of this one-bedroom pad going unrented for even a day. (A BIG clue that he, like every other Landlord I've encountered, is a cheap chiseling weasel of a bastard-coated bastard, and has no business being a Landlord).

Needless to say, my friends were in a bit of a quandary. I found out about it when talking with them shortly after this happened, and immediately offered up my second "almost" bedroom for them for the month of Feb. I had the bare-bones of a guest room already (a bed in there), and they had all the stuff to make it comfy.

They were happy to grab it up, and I was happy to have them. It was fun, and an interesting experiment to see how well this place would handle visitors for an extended period.

I learned that: (a) Landlords are, to a man (or woman) swine ... no matter how nice they seem at first, and; (b) This place definitely isn't an actual 2 bedroom, where two people could live comfortably on a permanent basis. 

It's a bit tight for space, but in the case of visitors/travelers, I didn't mind having to shuffle stuff around a bit to make it work for the three of us for a month. So for guests, it's great. 

And on the plus side, for my help, I have inherited enough additional "apartment stuff" (that I'd been meaning to buy but just hadn't yet) to make the place completely ready for any future visitors to Welly. 

So – come on down you slack Canadian bastards ... if you (and your liver) dare ... heheheh. You cannot get a better deal for holiday fun. Come to a nice place you've never visited, free accommodation, constant alcohol abuse, an alcoholically abusive tour guide, and needless to say, fun. With alcohol. 

Besides, it's the only place in the world where we speako da lingo of your average Canook. There is no armed insurrection, it's really REALLY nice, and your Canook Buck (Loonie!) goes further even than in Canookistan. 

Let's see, what else has rolled on since the turning of the (screw) new year ...

I was back in hospital a couple of times, but this is getting old (to write AND read about). So no more hospital reports on this blog, unless I have to go in and have my head amputated. Then that'll really be the last one.

Dex the Wonder Cat went on walkabout for 4 days, throwing The Fear into me ... then he trotted back in, none the worse for wear, and only marginally apologetic. So all ended well there. Squeak the Other Wonder Cat did not disappear, but did seem to wonder where Dex went. In between meals, of course.

The Toronto Maple Leafs have proven me correct yet again (and in other news: sky blue, water wet) ... These perennial, perpetual stumble-bums somehow started out the season with all guns blazing, and for a brief shining moment, were at #1 in the entire LEAGUE. I was ready to open my parka and hot chocolate concession in hell!

I knew though, it would not last ... and predicted then that they'd fail to make the playoffs. And they are well on their way to doing (or not doing, actually) just that. They are currently in 25th place, in a 30-team League. From whence they were once #1. 

Time is running out. The Fail is STRONG in this team. They will be golfing soon.
A familiar site, 45 years in a row now ... 
Failure, it seems, is their ONLY option. It's now 45 years and counting since they won a Cup ... and this year I've even managed to make some money off a couple of fans who agreed to bet on them! 

So it's been a good year for laughs AND extra cash. Hey, let's have a BIG party when they fail the 50th time in a row! It's only 5 years away. There might even be a couple of guys from the '67 team that won the last cup who are still alive!

Occupy THIS – While it seemed a good idea on paper ... the Occupy Wall Street movement rapidly degenerated into a massive cluster-fuck of people living in tents in parks (not exactly roughing it there, dudes!) having NO idea what it was all about – if the 'organisers' interviewed on TV news were any indication. 

When it was all done and dusted, it seemed it WAS a good way for unemployed people in each participating city to go meet others of their own kind, and trade useful information – like where the best drug dealer was in the 'tent city', and where the hot hippy-chick tents were. 

Hey, no problem with that as a fundamental ... as with any "big idea', it's best to start with baby steps ... always begin your cause with a good buzz, and some slammin' sex. 

THEN maybe the banks and big businesses will ... what was it again? Open their doors and money vaults, and welcome you all in for as much as you could carry? Sure, yeah, that was it.

The pre-game show for the Mayan 2012 Meltdown – The past year or so featured nature showing humanity that it's not always what it usually can be in places. It snowed in Wellington, NZ, late last year ... volcanoes misbehaved in a few places around the world ... it shook and flooded like a mo-fo in Japan (tsunami following big-ass quakes), and the flooding due to torrential rains deluged some parts of Aussie ... while other areas were constantly on fire. Some sharks also happily ate anyone trying to get away from the flooding and fire by jumping in the ocean to escape. 

Canada didn't get a winter, but Europe and the UK sure did. Ceaseless big earthquakes bitch-slapped Christchurch, NZ, where there weren't even fault lines before ... and just recently, massive tornadoes mulched and spun a large portion of the south-eastern USA.

So what does that leave for the grande finale when things are supposed to REALLY turn to shit this year? I can only imagine ... the internet will go down! Noooooooooooo! 

Anonymously making their point – I absolutely loved the response "Anonymous" (those wacky web ninjas!) deployed after US Government fuckwits decided to knee-jerk with absolutely NO knowledge or wisdom about how the net works, to try and enact some laws to allow them to fine and penalise and arrest and beat and waterboard anyone having ANYTHING do to with downloading stuff ... 

... and on that day they voted, Anonymous took down SEVERAL key US websites, including Justice, the FBI and the CIA. (Please feel secure ... um ... hang on ... we're supposed to be in charge of securing the USA and the world from terrorists, and yet, we can't even get on our Facebook page ... )

Stick to what you know, you government jackwagons. You come out into the world to screw with stuff people like to use (and that you know nothing about), and you will pay the price. Kind of like when SEAL teams go and have conversations with ACTUAL terrorists.

So to finish this long, rambling mess of a catchup blog ... it's really quiet here on a Sunday. It's the day after Andy & Sarah left for two weeks of the sight-seeing the rest of NZ, before they head to Southeast Asia for a while. It was a blast having them here, but now the house seems a bit empty. And quiet.

Which makes me keen to host anyone I know as a traveling guest, as mentioned before!

(Even the two Wonder Cats are prowling around wondering where everyone went!)

Until next time ... 

Yours in absurdity, Steve