Dr Who's on first?

Notepad needed

I really have to start jotting down Blog ideas ... they hit me at various times during the day. Or I see something really outlandishly absurd ... ponder it, and think I'll remember to get at it as soon as I get home.

And then I get to the couch at the end of the day, and a beer(s) or wine(s) appear in my hand. And the funny ideas are relegated to the back of the slush pile that is my brain.

This one just reappeared, however. And what do you know ... here I sit as the PPEBKAC - the Pesky Problem Evident Between Keyboard and Chair. (An IT term that helpdesk guys use for people who ring up with a problem that can only best be described thusly, as the user of said machine's innate issue with sanity or basic concepts).

Memes that are hipper and cooler than the actual thing

Dr Who is the big one for me. Yep, I'll say it – I have never watched an episode.

I've tried watching a few, but it's just so low-budget and corny. It doesn't appeal.

There's great SciFi out there that is cool, dramatic, has excellent writing/execution and FX. (Note: I refuse to use the newer, bastardised version "SyFy"). I give you Star Trek TNG and DSN, and most specifically, Firefly, and the most recent Battlestar Galactica as prime examples of great SciFi.

A hipster dude flying around in a phone booth with some magical skills/gizmos at hand to save himself – at the last second – from any scenario (see: the Sonic Screwdriver, or, the Flying Phone Booth) does not a great show make. Nor are non-frightening villains comprised of what appears to be tin foil, Xmas lights, and wheels off a shopping cart – who roll around slowly, and which are incapable of climbing a flight of stairs – capable of creating high drama.

I don't seem to be the only one who feels this way, either, if the denizens on sites like Fark and Imgur can be trusted.

How this seems to work: when a photo of a Doctor (any one of the 10 or so, but most specifically, David Tennant) appears online, people coo and gush and say how cool he is/looks, he's the Best Doctor, wow what a great guy, yadda yadda. The 'meme' phrasing (text on the photo) involved is also commented on greatly, as a cool and hip thing. I enjoy that to a minor degree. But that's as far as it goes ... I won't watch the show, due to the aforementioned cheeziness of it all.

So it does seem possible for a concept to be far cooler in 'meme' form than the actual (low-rent, silly, un-cool) thing itself. Another case in point: quoting a famous line from a show (for some reason, Scooby's "ruh-roh" from the Scooby Doo cartoon comes to mind. Amusing unto itself, but the cartoon episode experience itself is dreary and repetitive ... it's not even in the same league as Warner Bros. classics like Bugs Bunny and his pals).

I'm the same way with cars. I don't drive, never have, don't have a license. I don't want either, for two reasons: (1) Cars are unnecessary money pits for a city dweller. For the amount of use an average urban person gets out of a car, renting one for the truly necessary trips makes far more sense. You get a brand new car every time. And for most of the rest of your life, you are commuting to work 5 out of every 7 days. Your purchased car sits gathering rust and depreciates steadily, and is of no use at all, for nearly 72% of the time.

Transit is reliable and cheap for the going-to-work thing. Sure, it can be slow ... but if you're in a BIG hurry, cabs are fast, reliable, and cheap (compared to owning a car – factor in the big initial cost of the beast and/or payments ... then consider depreciation, petrol, insurance and parking ... suddenly that cab ride is really cheap), and; (2) Not having a license means I've avoided the unavoidable trouble, grief, woe and peril of me being behind the wheel of ANY piece of Detroit Rolling Iron. People who know me can vouch for this sensible decision. The world is far better off WITHOUT me being legally capable of driving.

But purely from the sense of design, the top-end cars of the world are pretty damn cool – to LOOK at. For instance, the Astin Martin Vanquish that appeared in the movie The Italian Job (the most current one, with the über sexy Charlize Theron). THAT is a cool car to look at. A cool guy drives it (Handsome Rob). It is stylish and goes fast and people in the movie who know of Handsome Rob and his Vanquish think that whole scenario is very hip and cool.

Or, just think of any car from any Bond movie. Cool guy, fancy flashy car (quirky gizmos and weapons are an added bonus).

Cool guy, stylin' car and hot babe = great movie. And, the car's a true meme.

Assemble all these elements, present them to me on a big screen with a good plot, and I'm entertained. The car is an ingredient in the mix that I love. But I don't want one. I want to enjoy the hijinks Handsome Rob gets up to in it. Then I think maybe one day Handsome Rob and I are friends, and he'll occasionally drive me around in it for a while. We'll listen to good music and talk, then meet up with Charlize for a drink. Or to plan the next caper.

Beerly speaking, part II

In a previous blog I babbled on about the latest trend here in Wellington/NZ – the craft beer explosion. (Not exploding beer ... that would be messy and senseless, and a waste of perfectly good beer). Rather, how popular the concept of many new small breweries is, and how they provide a veritable cornucopia of astoundingly fantastic beer for those of us who like such things. Said beer is easily discovered and consumed in many bars around town now.

Specifically, before, I talked about how lovers of this good beer would gather in the few (but growing number of!) specialised pubs here, and talk about the beer. A lot. In fact, most of the conversations centred around the beer, how cool we were for liking and having it, and how silly anyone else was who didn't imbibe.

I have shorter, but fun, beer-related conversations with my usual (and lovely) coffee barista, Laura.  She is one of us 'craft beer' lovers, with a refined taste for good hoppy IPAs and APAs. We often chat about new bars that have opened (and there have been a lot in the last couple of years). Just recently, we realised that we now have more choices of places for going out specifically for great beer than ever before – to the point where we don't even consider going to "lesser bars" that only serve the mass-produced Big Brands. Wellington has become a truly robust pub-culture town with a big percentage of bars catering to just this very thing – tasty, interesting craft beer made by talented local brewers.

There are many such pubs now. And due to Wellington's compact size, they're all notoriously easy to get to for a night of pub crawling.

Perhaps soon we'll pepper our 'within-pub' conversations with more topics, other than just the amazingness of this or that beer, the poor saps who don't know any better ... and are elsewhere swizzling down substandard swill like Tui or Heineken ... and wow, what's that unique NEW beer taste like? 

Not that those are bad topics. But there are other things to rabbit on about ... like what superheroes are going to be in the next Avengers movie? And holy shit, did you see that Game of Thrones ep last night? Wow, Tyrion really got shitfaced!

Little dude can put away a LOT of wine!

The Periodic Table of Elemental Junk Food

I've noted from time to time, when in a foggy, hungover state and standing in line at the local McDonald's (purveyors of truly atrocious substances they call food ... but wow, what a great hangover cure that crap is!) certain folks who seem stymied and perplexed with the menu.

And they are always standing in front of me. This is one of life's fundamental absurdities: what adult in the last, oh, 70+ years McDonald's has been operating and rabidly advertising, doesn't know what McDonald's sells? It's the same menu, all ... over ... the ... WORLD.

Barring perhaps one local/regional menu item, it's been the same. For 70+ years. 

There are four substances available: pseudo beef, faux fish, chicken-maybe, and something that shares some of the DNA of a potato.

And yet here's another adult, in front of my hungover ass, seemingly from a 1st world country, staring at the menu like it's the Periodic Table of Elements. They've been at it for some time, too ... to the point where even the cashier is beginning to look uncomfortable. The really stymied ones will even ask questions about the four choices. "Can I get a small sized one?", or "What's the fish like?"

How about NO, and, vaguely fish-like in its compressed squareness?

I suppose if McDonald's gets wind of the fact that there are people who don't know what might be on offer at their 'restaurants' (loose term), they'll redouble their advertising efforts, and we'll get even MORE of their insipid video-gruel advertising forced on us while watching TV.

I'm NOT lovin' it.

That's enough absurdities for now. I do have more in the RAM of my brain, but I'll give it a rest and get some coffee. Then start another one. Some time.

Yours, in absurdity.

Hiatus

Conspicuously absent

Verily, 'tis been a while since I did Blog. Laziness did vex me. And the usual rumpus with getting back to work after a long Xmas break.

It was some time well before Xmas 2012, in fact. I had a few more leg issues (I'm sticking to my promised guns, and not going to blather on with the gory details), then Xmas. Then a fantastic visit from longtime friends Jo and Ian from Ontario, Canada. (Which was supposed to be me joining them on a month-long trek around the country ... but, legs ... so we just partied it up here in my Aro Valley Aerie. Which was most excellent, but TOO SHORT!)

Then it was almost February, and my long Yuletide break was over, and back to the toil I went. And now it's May. Nearly MID May. The opening round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs is upon us, and *checks clock* in about half an hour from >this< word, the Leafs face the Bruins to attempt to stave off total elimination. Good luck ...

Welcome to a new Blogger in my 'verse!

The weekly delivery of a new blog from my friend Glenn ('Shwa Stories) should have been firing me up to Blog more ... especially since I convinced Glenn to start blogging a while back. After much balking about the idea, and a lot of encouragement from me and other pals, Glenn finally relented. And, it seems, I've created a monster! It streams in weekly ... sometimes more frequently!

Check out Glenn's blog, it's great. The 'Shwa in question is Oshawa, Ontario, his habitus familiarus. That's fake Latin – which is just slightly better than pig Latin.

Stats

I'll start from the most recent bit of absurdity. Stats ... mainly, unemployment stats. My friend Pete sent me a semi-regular email about the unemployment rate in his Ontario town, London, Today it's 9.9%.

But what does that REALLY mean? For decades, since I've been old enough to work, some news agency regularly fronts up with the unemployment rate. I can never remember it sinking lower than 10%. Occasionally it rises to 7 or even 6%. Or maybe even more (I wasn't that focussed on it ...)

So today, in London, Ont., it's 9.9%. Turn that math around, and look at it from the opposite angle. A whopping 90.1% of people who CAN work there ARE working. Overall in Canada, the unemployment rate is 7.2%. Which means 92.8% of viable workers are working. Holy shit! That sounds like a pretty viable economy to me. And it seems Step One to improve your lot in life if you live in London and are unemployed – move to a town with more jobs. Clearly, if these stats are to be believed, they're out there.

But we never ever hear about that aspect of the "unemployment" stat. Why? Because good news is boring. We need train-wrecks, bad news, disaster. Death, destruction. We need to hoover up fodder to fuel the fires of the overall media reports: the economy is in the toilet! It's circling the gurgler! We're almost in a depression! Start eating dog food!

Yeah, Right ...

Remember high-school or college / Uni tests? If you ever scored 90% or higher, you aced it! That's an "A" in anyone's books.

If a surgeon retired with a 90+% success rate, healing people (and they didn't die due to his actions), wow. That's astonishing success!

Say you read about a new car that's so energy and fuel efficient, it tops out at 91%. That's amazing news! Buy that car (and most of you can, as 90+% of you are working), and you'll save the most money you ever have on gas (petrol here), and you'll be doing hugely positive things for the environment.

Taken to school

The lesson here is: Always question the information we get spoon-fed by the media. Besides skewed economic news, we just have to look the information we are fed most other times, too. Case in point: look at the barrage of insane information we got surrounding the Boston Marathon Bombers in the first 12 hours after the attack.

For the first time, the media was betrayed as exactly what it has de-evolved to ... it's now just a funnel – a big trough, a septic tank – for all the photos and videos and such that stream in from everyone who was there who had a cell phone with a camera in it. And there was a LOT.

So why should the media even bother wandering off from in front of the camera to do actual reporting?

And did all that "digital storm" of media help? Sure, eventually. But it was mostly over and done with when the media actually started doing their jobs. They mostly just sat around,  siphoning through the deluge of freely submitted digital "evidence", and near the end, happily reported the cops foundthe two ACTUAL suspects.

But in the interim, we had "reporters" standing around, fingers up asses, interviewing each other about the stuff they were looking at from the public, and taking wildly UN-educated guesses as to what was up. Dark-skinned men were the primary focus in the crowd scenes, of course. And the two fuckwits who actually did it? Not dark at all. Not even Middle Eastern.

We know the result now. It happened relatively fast, mostly due to virtually every cop available prowling around out there, searching, following leads (AKA "doing their job"), and Bostonians staying indoors as advised. Kudos to Boston for solidering on throughout, and then immediately hitting the streets for a huge party when it was all over. That was a huge "Fuck You!" to the terrorists.

Lots more ...

There has clearly been a lot of stuff happening since the last 2012 Blog. So I'll stop here for now ... the Leafs v Bruins game is starting. And my Canadian friends are tee'd up on chat to comment on the shenanigans!

Yours in absurdity,

Bits 'n bites

Random neuron firings
It's the Saturday before Xmas and I'm home chillin', listening to some tunes (new and old). It occurred to me there may have been a few absurdities (if not atrocities!) I missed mentioning this year.

So I'll list a few here as I drink coffee (and then wine), and groove to the tunes. (Currently playing: Drive By Truckers, Oddities & Rarities).

Tough enough yet?
How long do folks need to stand in the torture chamber and take the beatings and whippings and general abuse? Some may say: "Wow that proves you're tough!" Not many would, though.  Far more people would opine: "What the fuck is wrong with you, you toolbag?"

There are a few people in my orbit who seem to think that being buried under a ton of snow and sub-zero temps – for 6 months of the year – means you're smarter, tougher and more elite than anyone else (yes, I see you, family and friends in Canada...)

To quote Austin Powers in Goldmember: "How about NO, you crazy Dutch bastards!?"

It's a ridiculous climate to live in. You're not impressing anyone. It only makes us laugh harder.

Claims of: "But it's beautiful!" aren't fooling anyone. You stand inside your house and take photos of the snow piling up and whipping around. Then you send said photos on to me (and other sensible people living in places with a tolerable climate) and say: "See! See how nice it is!"

Well – you're not OUT in it. You're inside your house, safe and warm, NOT dressed in the 6 layers of clothing you'd need to survive outside, and NOT enduring the actual frozen brutality. Which is precisely what I'm doing, in my house – well,  I'm looking at your photos (same view you have), but that's as far as "sameness" goes.

When I'm done looking, I can get up and stroll outside in my shorts and a t-shirt and gaze out at the magnificent view I have ... feed the parrots or admire all the other birds flapping around ... work on my tan ... or I could mosey on down to a seaside patio and have some drinks outdoors ... or I could go for a bike ride.

Whereas you – can either stand there like a cretin, staring at snow falling for hours, in your safe warm house ... or you go sit on a couch and drink and try some serious self-affirmation that this is a good way to live.

So what's so good about where I am?
Good question! But first a preamble: not long ago I had a good chat with my pal Mike in Toronto. We were trying to think of the 'perfect' place on the planet to live. The necessary provisos:

• Had to be 1st World (so that jobs, modern health care, sanitation and decent food were readily at hand)
• Obviously not war-torn
• No place where a new language (total lack of English) was necessary to master, to get along easily 
• Good climate (no regular, expected dips below 10º C, or above 27º C – so not Canada/Russia [any place north of the 49th parallel], anything close to the equator, or Aussie*)
• No regularly anticipated natural disasters (monsoons, hurricanes, tornadoes, snowstorms)
• No crazy, bloodthirsty-based political or religious systems, where the country was either regularly in imminent danger of being attacked (eg: Middle East), or, regularly went out into the world and made a nuisance and menace of itself (clearly the USA and its oil-driven 'world police' antics)
• Relatively stable economy (this eliminates much of Europe, and South and Central America, sadly)

*(Australia's out for two reasons: they're the opposite of Canada for temperature extremes, with Oct – April being 30º + (and often into the 40s). Any country with a climate featuring temperatures that force you indoors for heat OR cooling to survive is no good. And Aussie has a serious fresh water issue. 

Canada's summers are problematic – in the places where it's tolerable to live (say Halifax in the east, or Vancouver on the west coast), the summer temps don't last long enough. You're lucky if you get two months of good weather. Anywhere else in Canada where the culture and fun could make the cut (Montreal, Toronto) it gets heinously humid and hot. And there's nowhere else in Canada worth living).

It turns out there is no one place that covers all the bases, due to the #1 concern: climate. To be truly happy, we'd have to be well-off enough with our incomes to live in two places, minimum.

So, where are these two places?

Number one: New Zealand, from the months between October – April. Specifically Wellington, or the Hawkes Bay area. Wellington has the edge for more employment potential.

Number two: This is a tough one. Geographically, San Francisco would be good. But it's the USA, and the whole 'world police' thing (and being a big terrorist magnet because of that) eliminates that idea. Spain, Greece or Italy would be good, but the wobbly economy takes them out of play. South Africa? Still a bit dicey due to politics/racism issues. Japan? Crowded, and the language issue.

We thought perhaps Austria or Germany could work for the Northern Hemisphere summer months – strong economies being key there. The language issue might be a bit of a struggle, but, English is relatively common with the newer generation. Norway or Sweden were also considered, but Sweden's heavy taxation is a deal-breaker. So, it's down to either Norway, Germany or Austria from May – September.

(Now playing: The 101ers, Joe Strummer's band before The Clash. Earthy, gritty, raw, energetic.).

So I'm set for perfect living conditions from October – April, here in Wellington. The other half of the year isn't terrible under any category though: it's never annoyingly cold, but certainly it's not as nice as spring-summer-early fall here. It's a minor thing to endure. Yep, we get earthquakes. But not all the time. The really big destructive ones don't happen much at all, and modern architecture in the big cities means we can take a pretty serious pounding before massive death and destruction ensues. 

If all things were perfect, I'd make enough money to make Austria or Norway my home for the May – September period.  

But as things stand now, Wellington is the most perfect spot to live for me. There's nothing that raises a cause for concern – like hideous long-term climate for half the year, stupid politics, racism or religious issue, or other countries that want to kill us – that makes it bad in any way.

The fun increases at exponential rates 
There hasn't been a day in the last couple of weeks where I wasn't out having fun with friends in pubs around town.

NZers (at least, Wellingtonians – we won't get in to the grim scenario of what's involved with being an Aucklander) go out a lot, most times of the year. I leave work any day of the week and stroll to one of any number of bars within a 10-minute walk from my office, and they're pretty full from 5 pm onwards. Not just Fridays – I'm talking any day of the week. This is one of the first features about New Zealand that struck me as fantastic ... no one goes out midweek in Canada or the USA. It's a wonder how bars and pubs can survive there, when their only 'big' nights are Friday and Saturday.

Now it's Xmas – and the folks are really mobbing up the pubs. Many people are already on their holidays; others (like me) don't seem to care that we're drinking on a 'school night'. There isn't much work being done in most offices around town, this close to Xmas. And fun, of course, is always more crucial.

(Now playing: John Cale, a best-of compilation: Seducing The Door).

Last night we decided to spread the drinking wealth around, with a trip to The Hop Garden, one of the first craft beer pubs in town to spring up. It's not a usual haunt, as it's just off the beaten path where all the other places are so close together ... a whole extra two minutes on the bus.

The place was buzzing, groups of friends congregating (and a few office parties) were well under way from 5 pm. A brief stop into Hashigo Zake just before this (leaving work at 4.30 is a fun option!) found some people who'd been up to their "works' party"shenanigans  from about noon onwards. Perma-grins and loud-talking abounded, with a lot of daylight still to go.

There is something daring, and cheekily fun about being blitzed in the middle of an afternoon ... that would otherwise be a normal, stodgy work day – especially considering places like Canada and the USA don't get these opportunities. North America just doesn't seem to 'get' this fun culture thing we have going here (as does Aussie, and the UK, and Germany, and France, and ... well you get the idea. Loosen up, America and Canada!)

We work hard most of the year, and just getting a few days off over Xmas and New Years is NOT 'just reward'. Neither is only having two weeks of annual leave.

Most gigs here give workers two weeks off over Xmas. And the days leading up to the holidays will often feature gatherings like this – afternoons off for the sanctioned office party, or half-days taken off by us, the proletariat, from our wonderful FOUR WEEKS OF ANNUAL LEAVE that everyone gets here, standard.

There is a lot to be said for fun, and the freedom and opportunity to have it. It makes for happy worker-bees, and those of us who are cogs in a bigger machine.

(Now playing: Baroness, The Red Album – heavier rock).

Assholes do vex us
Now, in the Seriously, WTF? department ... following on from the heinous shootings of children and adults at a school in the USA last week, we now have deranged, broken, savage sub-humans calling in similar shooting threats to other schools. And of course every threat has to be taken seriously ... but then of course there is the overkill (pardon the irony) aspect of the over-reaction in some places. My friend Amy in Michigan reported that some schools were not only taking the threat of another possible murderous rampage by some monster seriously ... they included the ludicrous possibility of the Mayan 'end of the world' as possible too.

Hell, why not add the potential for zombies, or an attack from a bunch of mean outer space aliens, or Godzilla suddenly turning up to wreak havoc?

How do jackwagons consistently manage to end up in charge of making any kind of important decision?

And then of course there's the NRA in the US, piping up, in a much-anticipated statement that many hoped would be something sensible from this bunch of penis-extension nuts (sorry, gun advocates).

Ha ha.

Central to the NRA's big statement about how to fix things were:
(1) Legislate it so all schools become gun-free zones [of course, maniacal murderous sub-humans will obey laws!] ... and, place trained armed guards in all schools. Yeah, nice up-front display demonstrating it's all fallen apart, and the only way to deal with things is have people ready to blow away other people who might show up to blow away the kids and teachers. Hey, make it simpler: how about these armed guards all wear shirts that say: "We don't have ANY idea what we're doing"! and;
(2) Much of the problem with whackos who take up guns and embark on crazy slay-fests is due to violent video games. Yeah, and once we legislate these awful video games from being made, we can concentrate on dealing with the millions of people who are out wantonly fucking in public, because they watch porn.

(Now playing: Bobby Womack, a best-of compilation. One of the smoothest soul-men of the 60s and 70s).

Now I'm going to eat something, and settle in to watch Taken 2, starring Liam Neeson. Then, can someone call the authorities and have me locked up? Because after seeing this movie, I'm clearly going to snap, then run out and kidnap a bunch of innocent people, shoot and kill some more, and run around screaming and behaving in a decidedly 2-dimensional drug-and-violence fuelled criminal fashion.

Yours in absurdity,

What do rebels do if they ever win?

Beery thoughts
After yet another night wobbling about in a couple of Wellington's newest "craft beer" pubs, I got to wondering this morning – what happens if your Big Rebellious Movement suddenly wins, there's no more of The Other Thing that was clearly shoddy and poorly made and a piece of shit, and maybe even bad for you, and hazardous to children and kittens?

You could take for example movie franchises like Star Wars. The rebels were constantly fighting the evil Empire and suddenly at the end of the last movie, they won. Then ... what? Non-stop parties with the fierce teddy bear people? Golden bikini contests with Leia and a bunch of other babes? Or perhaps ... boredom? Fighting "the good fight" was suddenly remembered as a lot more exciting, and fun. Now with all this peace and freedom ... what was there do to?

I'm talking specifically about this craft beer business. First of all, what exactly is this?

Well. In a nutshell, and thanks mostly in part to Prohibition, beer went from wonderfully and properly made elixers by true craftsmen who stuck to the four ingredients of beer  (Water, Hops, Yeast, and Fun ... oops I mean Malt) to being mostly non-existent during Prohibition.

When the Iron Curtain of No Fun was finally lifted, in stepped weasly business greaseballs like Adolph Coors and the Budweiser brewing company. They cranked out something that vaguely resembled beer, only their concoctions had a bunch of other chemicals in it – like Accelerators (so they could brew it faster) and Preservatives (so it would last longer in storage). And they made it a disconcerting yellow, and with an alarming low alcohol content.

Then they flooded the market with it. In stacks and droves. So even if the small yet dedicated craftsmen of yore could get their products made properly and out there, they were overshadowed and blown out of the water by ... this heinous piss-water.

Similarly in Canada, the Molson and Labatt people fronted up with the same mass-produced swill, flooded the market, and after a generation or two of sheepish Canadian drinkers 'liking it or lumping it', it sadly became the definition of what beer was.

And for many long decades, that was all there was available for the poor downtrodden yet misinformed beer drinker. Sure, a while after prohibition ended, you might be able to find some bizarrely labelled imports from places like Belgium and Czech and England, but they were a lot more expensive. They were made properly, but by now the tastebuds of Joe Beer Swiller were inured to the bland, same-as hideous taste of the mass produced swill. So the chances of people paying MORE for something that wasn't bland and yellow, and that shocked and awed their tastebuds was pretty slim.

Then along about the mid to late 80s, the west coast of the USA (and shortly after, Vancouver in Canada), a small miracle was a-brewing. Craft beer was coming back (aka "micro-brew" beer). It was being made and distributed in stores alongside the Big Mass Produced Swill. It was a bit more expensive ... but suddenly people with a bit more cash on hand were buying it. These were the sorts of people who would buy single-malt scotch instead of some cheap knock-off mixture of stuff like Cutty Sark. These were also the sorts of people who would buy decent wine, instead of the usual liquid-headache-in-a-bottle cheap plonk.

Then along came pubs attached to the micro-breweries – a logical expansion of the idea. If you make it, why not sell it right there, too? This made it fun and a bit pretentious and elite to be within such confines, drinking a beverage that was clearly better than Coors Lite or Bud or Miller (or Blue or Ex or Canadian). You could see the big brewing gear right there, and talk to the brewmaster. You were getting drunk in style.

Exponents of this newish 'craft beer' now had a cause celébre.  It wasn't a fight for all things right vs evil and badness, but it was a bit of a trendy struggle to try and get people who drank cheap swill to realise there were better things out there. But while they were wallowing in ignorance, you, you refined drinker of great beer, were awash in the excellence of how good beer could actually be.

It became a bit of a cause, and the activists started to fancy themselves rebels.

This is the sort of thing going on here in Wellington now. Wellington has become the leading edge of the movement to get better 'craft' beer out there and available for all to enjoy. There are loads of brewers now (in my 12 years here I've seen it go from one to maybe 20 or more). Is it good? Absolutely. Is it spendy? You bet.  For a bargain night of brain-cell incapacitating, you could rock in to a grocery store here and lay down $10 and get 12 cans or bottles of some bland swill (but with a 5% ABV rating!) that will get the job done.

But if you wanted to do it right, with a good-tasting ale or pilsener or lager or porter or stout – you would spend up and go "craft". And man it is good* – and you can find a type of beer to suit your own tastebuds. And lately, even some bizarre and experimental stuff.

*(Throughout my drinking life, the same cycle or pattern has emerged with every sort of liquor, beer or wine there is – the first type of anything I was given to drink in the early days was the bargain-basement, low-rent, ass-bucket version of the thing. This was obvious with beer, as all we had in the 70s was Molson or Labatt, or if we crossed the river to New York State, Budweiser or Miller or Coors. Then later in life, I get offered a proper version of the thing – in beer's case, it was some excellent microbrew in Vancouver. This has happened with scotch [bar-rail scotch vs single-malt], wine [cheap skanky 2-buck-chuck swill vs excellent varietal], rum [Bacardi's mass-produced gasoline atrocity, vs Appleton's] et al. So no matter what you drink at first, it's likely the shittiest version of that thing ... and if you're lucky, you will eventually get to try the properly-made version of that thing. And chances are, you will say: "Oh, holy SHIT, this is great. THIS is how it's supposed to taste!?" My biggest surprise with this process was tequila – who knew that the evil, benzine-tasting weed killer we all know and despise actually comes in some really excellently made versions? But I digress). 

And now most recently, with beer, the emphasis has been on hops. As in: "How many hops can we stuff into a brew to make it even more hoppy, for those who love hops and want more?"

The answer seems to be: there is no limit.

Now, in a bunch of new pubs here featuring nothing BUT craft beer (and at least one pub that makes its own beer on premises), this "Hops madness" is the new sub-rebellion that has splintered off from just the overall "umbrella" cause of craft beer. Now, it's not just: "It has to be craft". It's now: "It has to be so hoppy that all you can taste or breathe for the next day is hops".

Which is good if you like hops. And I do. (But I also enjoy a hearty dark porter or stout on a cooler day, and I enjoy a cheeky pilsener and even a cloudy wheat beer on a hot day). I'm an open-minded drinker (and this also applies to wine, scotch and rum, of notable and noteworthy quality).

But the underlying thing I've noticed is (here we finally get to the point) – the chatter that goes on in these pubs seems hyper-centred on just how amazingly good this all is. Hyper-centred to the point of that person who, for no reason, suddenly shouts out: "I'm NOT CRAZY!" , which of course affirms that, indeed, you are bat-shit insane ...

We gather with friends in these pubs (which is always fun) and everyone orders something different to try (an easy thing to accomplish, as pubs now have vast numbers of taps, due to all the craft beers available now), and forthwith begins the conversation: everyone asks every other person "What do you have? How is that one?" This goes on with the simultaneous undercurrent of "Wow those suckers out there paying good money for shitty [insert name of local mass produced beer here], what fools and poltroons!"

So I wondered – what if, in the not too distant future, we crafty drinkers suddenly win. One day, without warning, the mass-producers of 'swill' switch gears – and now they're turning out their own versions of "craft" beer. And it's good.

Now there's nothing left to mock, taunt and deride. It would be like *gasp* the Toronto Maple Leafs winning the cup.*

*(Do you see what I did there? There isn't even an NHL season this year, and so the Leafs aren't playing, but I STILL found a way to mock them! Also – the two scenarios would be equally impossible to happen.)

What would the legion of beer purists have left? They'd have to actually talk about things other than what astoundingly great beer it is they've chosen, and what rubes and hayseeds everyone else "out there" are for not doing so.

They'd just be beer drinking rebels without a cause.

Well it's just about beer-o'clock. I do believe I'll go have one of the new ones I just heard about ... "Hopcat", or "Double Trouble".

Reelin' in the Yuletide madness

Roll out the Yuletide barrel of fun!
Here we go again, funsters – my 53rd go at enabling a Yuletide season!

Well sure, I may only remember 50 of these, as not many of us recall the infant-to-age-3 times. OK make it 48 recollections. There were a couple of Xmases in the 90s where Santa may have brought me just a bit too many fun intoxicants ...

So here we go with Xmas 2012. And already the madness is rife! (That's of course IF we make it past this coming Friday, the 21st – if those madcap Mayans were right, we may not have to worry about last-minute shopping. Or, much of anything) ...

The tell-tale signs were upon us weeks ago 
There's something about this time of the year that really brings out the Freak Show Superstars. These are the people who don't normally go out in public from January - November. Now, they are suddenly out in droves – standing in stores/shops trying to figure out the whole "look for stuff you might want, buy it, get the hell out of the store" routine. Or standing in the DOORWAYS of said stores, blocking traffic, while they gaze around open-mouthed, trying to figure out which direction to take to continue the idea of going IN to or OUT of the store. Which is it again? Have I shopped?

Or they're standing at the cashier, trying to bamboozle the clerks into ... something ... I stood behind a woman (who clearly went out of her way to come in to the "big city" of Wellington to get her 'shop' on). All I wanted to do was pay for the shirt I had picked out not 30 seconds before (I don't spend heaps of times in stores "shopping" – I go in knowing what I want, and get exactly what I want – and then GTFO*. Time lapsed, maybe 2 minutes, tops. IF there are lots of people to step around).

*(Get the fuck out).

But I wasn't going to be 'getting the fuck out' anytime soon ... this woman had a pile of clothes strewn about the counter. She apparently had some coupons that were out of date. And a credit card that was also just as deceased. Also maybe some money. No one was certain ...

The conversation back and forth between the jackwagon customer and the cashier eventually led to the dead coupons being allowed (and good job on the cashier for allowing the dead coupons – that sped things up a lot, and deflected any potential yelling and screaming and further delays ... and really, who cares if the ducats were dead. They were alive once, and usable. Maybe this loopy woman was a time-traveler who though it was still December 2011) ...

More unintelligible, crazy jibbering from the woman ensued ... something senseless that no one could make heads or tails of.  Then – Salvation! The wily and savvy cashier got the woman to agree that if she put back 4 or 5 of the 10 things she had on the counter, she would have 5 things to take home, AND, a $17 surplus (a balance from the previously-defunct coupons) with which to buy something else. She was then encouraged to go shop some more. And wonder of wonders, she buggered off. And I was up next! A smooth transaction ensued, shirt was purchased, I put it on in the change room to wear out, and off I went to the party of the day ...

But I am getting ahead of myself, for this particular day. Just prior to shirt shopping, I'd gotten off a packed bus (half full of the sorts of people who had clearly never ridden on, or perhaps even known about, a bus before ... but I must admit there is some merriment involved with watching someone who finally "gets" they need to pay the driver, then they slowly saunter down looking for just the right seat ... and of course city bus drivers never wait for sauntering people. Drivers always jet off immediately, they have a route to maintain. And sauntering people are sent lunging for hand-holds with shocked looks on their faces ...)

I de-bussed, and two steps into the direction I wanted to go, I heard a commotion behind me. Some lady shouted "Stop! Give it back!", and I turned to see what was up – some scruffy nutbag had purse-snatched a lady, and a nano-second later, half a dozen other pedestrians had jumped on the guy and got her purse back ... and were in the process of forcing the guy onto the sidewalk, to wait for the cops. Quick work! A citizen's arrest in progress, and succeeding! For a moment I thought I'd wait to see if the guy managed to escape, and if he headed my way, I'd clothesline him and make him rethink this whole idea ... but no need. He had been subdued.

This was just one of the many examples of lunatic behaviour I regularly see around this time of the year. Loonies deciding to make a day of being loony in public, in stores and restaurants (do they pack a lunch, and do some stretching first? Are they well hydrated?) ... scumbags and losers out on the grift ... or newbies fresh off the farm, and now on the busses, trying to figure out how they work. (Seriously - adults over the age of 30 NOT knowing how a city bus works?)

So many parties, so little time
A really cool thing about this time of year is all the parties – office parties*, friends having shindigs, other sorts of organised get-togethers. And now, all of the craft-beer pubs are coming up with interesting ways to lure us funsters and beer swillers in.

* (Not MY office however. As a government operation, they of course panic at the needless or stupidly perceived things, while at the same time, ramble and wobble about in a heedless blur about stuff that actually matters. So this year's needless stupidity is: What if the media finds out about us having an Xmas bash funded by the bosses? Why, all hell will break loose! Dogs and cats living together, MASS HYSTERIA!) 

So there's fun afoot in all the spots around town that serve up food and drink. First, a quick mention about hotels or restaurants that don't really know what they're doing when it comes to serving people meals, or drinks ... after the purse-snatch and shirt-purchase incidents, I was off to meet my friend Alex. She'd invited me to her book club's Xmas party, in a hotel conference room.

Now the restaurant industry here in Wellington is pretty full-on. There are lots of places to eat, and every cuisine imaginable. (A recent study claims we have more eateries per capita than New York City, or San Francisco). And it's pretty self-regulating for bad food/service. Bad food or service always means you're going to fail, and spectacularly.

If you open up a place because you think "Gee wouldn't running a restaurant or bar be great fun!", this is NOT the first and only reason you should do so. Knowing something about the game, and, having experienced people in key positions like host/hostess, bartender, wait staff and cooks is pretty crucial.

This hotel for the book club party had none of these fundamental bases covered. We asked the bartender to start us individual tabs, and it was as if we'd ask her to quickly set up a Large Hadron Collider right there and then. Once seated in the conference room/eatery, similar confusion ensued amongst the wait staff regarding simple queries. And then of course the food was sub-standard. At least it wasn't pricey – and when we eventually got the wines and beers, they were of course good. Hard to screw those up.

A new hook the bars have figured out
There's nothing like being part of a fun new idea to augment free or low-cost drinking! And the pubs here have a new game in play – they invite one local brewer in to "take over" all the taps, and then the general rabble (me) are invited in to partake at less than usual prices (with of course free samples on offer for any you don't know about, or you pretend to not know about).

This is a fair bit of fun. I went to one last week for Epic beer (at the Malthouse), and tonight it's one at Bin 44* for Garage Project's lineup of high-octane ales and pilseners. Another fun place here (Hashigo Zake) features "New Release Tuesday" every week – as the name implies, something new from one of the local mad brewers will be on offer. Usually we get a freebie to start. Last night was no different; a weirdly concocted lager-type thing that involved being processed with truffles and who knows what all else, and it topped out close to 9% in strength. It was excellent. I of course had two. And possibly more.

*(Kudos to Bin 44 – this is a new drinkery, on the waterfront in what was previously just a café ... taken over by a fellow Canadian, a friendly east-coaster to boot! He wisely fronted up with a great lineup of local craft beer on tap [and in the fridge in bottles]. He also likes "da blues" and so the music's always good. And it's on the waterfront. So it's all good).

Tonight's a 'customer appreciation' session at Bin 44, featuring beers from Garage Project, the brewery located in my 'hood*. It will likely be no end of fun ... making Thursday at work a bit of a struggle. But it's all worth it, in the end.

* (Ooo! I just found out in the middle of writing this, that Garage Project (a brewery) is going to finally have a "Cellar Door", which is a winery term for having a room where drinks are served. This is a fancy way of calling it a small pub. Prior to this, all they did was make beer and distribute it to other pubs.
I have often mentioned this to the folks involved with the brewery when I see them at beer fests – why shouldn't a brewery be allowed to have a Cellar Door so you can wander in to "sample" their wares? And then sample more? And still, more? So it seems this WILL come to pass, early in 2013! Yay for me – as Garage Project is in the 'hood where I live).

As for all the other madness ...
I'm not going to give the toolbag who shot up the school in the US last week any more free advertising by naming him. But mention should be made to certain acts of heroism that came out of that. Lots of kids died, and adults, but a few teachers sprang into action (at the cost of their own lives) to hide kids and save some of their lives. Well done.

Now to fix the problem. Sadly, much like the blind rage that seems to fuel so many people in Middle Eastern countries – the sort of madness that binds them as True Believers to the cause of blowing shit up for their religion – many Americans have that same perceived "right" burnt and bred in the bone, about owning guns.

If the Obama administration tries to take away their guns (aka: penis extensions) there could well be civil war. Because these maniacs are True Believers.

And of course mental health care is non-existant in the US, unless your crazy AND rich AND want to get help. But few crazy people are, or do.

Lots of theories abound for how to fix it. Except you can't fix or legislate "broken" people – and that's exactly the sort of creature that does this, mass-shootings of helpless children. These people are fucked up from square one. Can't fix them, can't make a law that says "no guns for you, you crazy bastard!" Because – well, they're crazy.

And there's no 2nd Amendment reason to have one – because no 'Tyrant' has ever been overthrown since that Amendment was written.

And the few terrorists who have succeeded in attacking the US on its own soil did so because they were clever, organised professionals who outsmarted all the people in the CIA and FBI and NSA and the US military combined ... so no rag-tag band of overweight, uneducated, redneck rubes and hicks with guns would make any difference in a 9/11 situation, or during the previous attack on the World Trade Centre.

A sad score indeed.

So there's no telling what can be done. The current ease of being able to get a gun in the US, and the resulting heavily-armed American populace, is just a hell of a lot of stupid, incompetent people (and a fair number of complete lunatics) with no skill or control over using a firearm. Sadly, they THINK they're all  READY to use that firearm, because they can plink a tin can at 20 paces, and have seen all the episodes of "24". But how would all these bad-ass wanna-bes actually fare? 

The answer: Badly. 

There are only a few professional humans on earth who can use a gun properly (trained special forces military people). They are the ONLY ones – the ones who practice shooting daily, and work through possible combat scenarios, and who know all about anticipating situations ... and besides having the skills, fitness and education, they KNOW what damage weapons can do in a lunatic's hands ... or in just some damn pathetic, scared, zero-confidence fool's hands, who bought a gun "just because". 

But what if the Mayans are right?

Then the whole gun issue will be moot, and this will indeed be the last edition of 5'19". But you won't care. You'll be dead. Along with everyone else! 

I'll continue with my usual M.O. either way (which is: have fun). 

I'll have maximum fun on the 21st, and if what I suspect happens – nothing –  I wake up on the 22nd saying "ouch" to a sore head. 

And once again, some mis-translated fairy tale from long ago has proven to be wrong. Again.

Let's see what the rest of this Yule season has to offer in absurdities! I'll be off work and ON HOLIDAYS (instead of in hospital for a change!) and tooling around New Zealand with my Canadian friends Jo and Ian. I won't be back to work until Jan. 24. What a concept! Finally getting to enjoy my actual Annual Leave!

Peace, in absurdity

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