Tuesday, April 24, 2007
The facts of life
For a while now, Scott Adams (creator of Dilbert) has had a penchant for detailing recent acts of bestiality. He also holds opinions on copyright law, and expresses said opinions from time to time. So his latest post is, I suppose, the inevitable next step. He’s likened violating copyright to having sex with someone else’s goat. I for one think that comparison needed to be made.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Byron Wrapup Pt 3
follows on from this post
Day Three: Saturday
By now I was living the blues. Saturday's lineup didn't present as many big names as the previous two days, but I was keen to get to the fest and make some discoveries. In the end, I hung out with my cousins, got drunk, met some nice hippy girls, ate some more Langos, and had a great day.
Amos Lee
Word on the street was that this guy was worth seeing. He plays laid back bluesish tunes on his acoustic guitar, and matches it with a great soulful voice. My only criticism would be that he was a little too good. He was so talented, he made what he was doing look effortless. I want to see people suffer for their music. If you'll permit me a rather bizzare metaphore, It's like I can't get a musical erection without a bit of S&M. The blues usually gives me what I need.
Amos Lee: Too goddamn perfect Wandering Around
Those readers with excellent memories will recall the schedule I posted in part 1 of this series. There's a bit of a gap between Amos Lee, which finished at 3:00, and the next act I saw all of, which began at 7:00. Where did these missing hours go? Well, I remember drinking, and wandering around with my cousins. I caught 20 mins of Fred Eaglesmith's set. He's a Canadian who sings country music, and has an unhealthy preoccupation with guns, trucks, trains and dogs. He sings a song called "I think it's time to go buy a gun", which is fantastic.
While waiting with my cousin Jake while my brother went to the toilet, we were, unbeknownst to me at the time, approached by three good looking females. I was daydreaming when I heard Jake say something like, 'go on, he loves it!'. The next thing I know, I receive a whack on the arse. Yelping, I turned around to see three girls run past me and into the crowd. Jake recalled the moment later on the family blog: 'Favourite moments of the fest - Three girls debating whether they should smack Andrew on the arse - I leaned over and said 'He loves a smack' - so they gave him a short, sharp whack." Love it I did.
It seems awfully decadent to pay $squillions to fly across the country (not to mention the cost to the planet in C02 emissions!) to attend a music festival, then ignore the musicians to wander around and get drunk. But sometimes you've got to take a bit of a break to refresh the musical palette. And sometimes, random girls smack you on the arse.
My brother (top), my cousin Jake (right), and two lovely girls we made friends withFishbone
My cousin Adam dragged us back to mojo to see these guys, who I'd never heard of. They're a black American group reminiscent of the Cat Empire, and they rock. The crowd were restless when they started out with a 10 minute, very cool jazz spoken word piece, but I was digging it. Soon, though, they launched into some high energy numbers (still very jazz-influenced), and suddenly everyone was dancing. The lead singer kept stage diving into the huge audience, getting passed round the mosh pit for minutes at a time, singing all the while. Big respect to the roadie who basically had to treat the guy's mic cable like a fishing line. When he came back towards the stage, the roadie would reel in the cable to stop it getting tangled in the crowd.
Soulman
Now I had a decision to make: did I want to check out rock legends Eric Burdon and The Animals, or stay at Mojo to wait for Ozomatli, who Adam informed me would rock? I knew that it would be a sin not to see the Animals, who are undisputed music icons. On the other hand, I was drunk and wanted to party with the young people. In the end, I resolved to head over to Crossroads, where the Animals were playing, check them out, and stay if they blew my mind. I did so and lasted five minutes before I lost concentration (I am a terrible man). As I wandered back to Mojo, I passed the Apra stage, where I saw Adam and my brother checking out Soulman. I stopped for a listen.
He's a Jamaican living in Perth, and sings fairly easy listening rocky acoustic pop. But he's got a really friendly, happy vibe, and you can't help but be won over by him. A pleasant way to spend 20 minutes.
SoulmanOzomatli (Best crowd experience of the fest)
These guys were awesome. Another Cat Empire-style ensemble who knew how to get the crowd dancing and happy. At the end of their allotted hour, they needed to let the roadies set up for the next performance, but didn't want to stop playing. So they all jumped off the stage and started a procession through the audience - drums, horn section, singers, and girls on stilts dressed as flamingos. George and Alice will recall that a similar thing happened at the Batacuda Sound Machine performance last year; that was at Jambalaya, a small stage. This was in Mojo, and the crowd just couldn't believe it.
The band formed a circle right in the middle of the tent and started a chant. Each time they did this, from where I was standing you could hear the chant faintly at first (no mics), then it grew louder as the audience nearest them caught on. The chant would ripple back from the middle of the tent, till you could hear everyone in the tent and the people outside on the grass getting in on the action. An almost religious experience.
Ozomatli gets down with the massive crowd at MojoBo Diddley
After Ozomatli I felt exhausted and energised at the same time. I stuck around to see if The Roots would be any good. The writeup in the program described them in much the same way as Ozomatli: large group with ecclectic influences including hip hop. In the case of The Roots, ecclectic meant borrowing from both Eminem AND 50 Cent. They stunk, and people started to float away from Mojo, myself included.
By then there was only one option, and that option was Bo Diddley. Half blues man, half blues legend, he's really really old but still very cool. Most of his songs are centred around how great he is, including 'Hey Bo Diddley', where he sings 'Hey Bo Diddley' and the crowd answers 'Hey Bo Diddley', and the 'Bo Diddley Rap', wherein Bo Diddley recounts his success with the ladies. A feel good end to another day in Blues Paradise.
Melbourne, Day Four
This post will have nothing to do with Melbourne, but rather just a random collection of thoughts that have been going through my head over the last 24 hours.
First and foremost, I've learnt something over the last four days or so - there is no substitute for a good newspaper. I can just sense Andrew raising a huff about this when he reads this, but the main thing I'm missing while in Melbourne is that I haven't found a chance to pick up a paper, buy a coffee, and sit down and read about the news in the world. I know that there's plenty of sites that give me news, whether global or local (Well, probably not local, but Australia-based, at least). There's a difference, though, between reading the news, and enjoying the news. You can read the news from an LCD monitor, but it takes a good paper, and a nice flat white to be able to enjoy it.
Right now, I'm missing that, unfortunately.
The next thing that's been going through my mind is Kevin Rudd's new workplace policy's (Apologies for the News.com link). I've been reading through the general gist of the article and, so far, the two main points that have stood out for me are unfair dismissal laws, and also proposed laws regarding industrial action. In regards to the unfair dismissal laws, unfortunately, I just can't say whether I think Rudd's laws are a good idea or not. In regards to unfair dismissal laws not applying to new employees of a company for 6 months, I'm not actually too adverse to that, believe it or not. Consider that most companies usually hire on employees for a probation period of three months regardless, so another three on top of this, while not being ideal, is not a doomsday prediction either.
It's interesting to note, however, that Rudd's still scrapping AWA agreements all together. To quote a piece Rudd wrote for the Labor eHerald, "Our laws will abolish AWAs – and we will do so without apology." Presumably, this means that Rudd is of the opinion that there is no element of the Australian workforce that can benefit from AWAs, or, if there is, it is not a sizable enough percentage to warrant the existence of AWAs. The alternative that I can see is that, while there is a sizable portion of the workforce who could benefit from AWAs, it's just too difficult to implement a system that will ensure that individual bargaining is not forced upon workers. Given that the Bureau of Statistics reported in 2003 that approximately 18% of the working population had Bachelor's Degrees or higher, I don't think Rudd would honestly put the working conditions of 1 in 5 Australians in the 'too hard' basket.
I am of the opinion (And I think most of you are too) that people should be allowed to negotiate individual working conditions, if that's their choice. If they want to engage in collective bargaining, that's understandable too - I am all in favor of workers joining together to provide greater bargaining power against a vastly better resourced employer. I just also think that individual bargaining should also be allowed, if the employee wants it. Embarrassingly enough, I'm not sure how much, if any, leeway exists for individual bargaining under a government that's banned AWAs. I'll try and find out by my next blog post - I just wanted to throw a contentious idea out to you all, and get some discussion going.
Lastly, but definitely not least(ly), can someone please deny an ugly rumor I've heard going around - is it true that the Mall's Balls have gone walkabout? Please, Andrew, Alice, Kate, Jono, Daniel, anyone, say it ain't so!
First and foremost, I've learnt something over the last four days or so - there is no substitute for a good newspaper. I can just sense Andrew raising a huff about this when he reads this, but the main thing I'm missing while in Melbourne is that I haven't found a chance to pick up a paper, buy a coffee, and sit down and read about the news in the world. I know that there's plenty of sites that give me news, whether global or local (Well, probably not local, but Australia-based, at least). There's a difference, though, between reading the news, and enjoying the news. You can read the news from an LCD monitor, but it takes a good paper, and a nice flat white to be able to enjoy it.
Right now, I'm missing that, unfortunately.
The next thing that's been going through my mind is Kevin Rudd's new workplace policy's (Apologies for the News.com link). I've been reading through the general gist of the article and, so far, the two main points that have stood out for me are unfair dismissal laws, and also proposed laws regarding industrial action. In regards to the unfair dismissal laws, unfortunately, I just can't say whether I think Rudd's laws are a good idea or not. In regards to unfair dismissal laws not applying to new employees of a company for 6 months, I'm not actually too adverse to that, believe it or not. Consider that most companies usually hire on employees for a probation period of three months regardless, so another three on top of this, while not being ideal, is not a doomsday prediction either.
It's interesting to note, however, that Rudd's still scrapping AWA agreements all together. To quote a piece Rudd wrote for the Labor eHerald, "Our laws will abolish AWAs – and we will do so without apology." Presumably, this means that Rudd is of the opinion that there is no element of the Australian workforce that can benefit from AWAs, or, if there is, it is not a sizable enough percentage to warrant the existence of AWAs. The alternative that I can see is that, while there is a sizable portion of the workforce who could benefit from AWAs, it's just too difficult to implement a system that will ensure that individual bargaining is not forced upon workers. Given that the Bureau of Statistics reported in 2003 that approximately 18% of the working population had Bachelor's Degrees or higher, I don't think Rudd would honestly put the working conditions of 1 in 5 Australians in the 'too hard' basket.
I am of the opinion (And I think most of you are too) that people should be allowed to negotiate individual working conditions, if that's their choice. If they want to engage in collective bargaining, that's understandable too - I am all in favor of workers joining together to provide greater bargaining power against a vastly better resourced employer. I just also think that individual bargaining should also be allowed, if the employee wants it. Embarrassingly enough, I'm not sure how much, if any, leeway exists for individual bargaining under a government that's banned AWAs. I'll try and find out by my next blog post - I just wanted to throw a contentious idea out to you all, and get some discussion going.
Lastly, but definitely not least(ly), can someone please deny an ugly rumor I've heard going around - is it true that the Mall's Balls have gone walkabout? Please, Andrew, Alice, Kate, Jono, Daniel, anyone, say it ain't so!
Monday, April 16, 2007
The Magical Pick Up Line Generator
Just to break up the 'So what did you do on your travels' theme that seems to happening here at the moment, I've decided to post something purely juvenile. I recently stumbled upon a silly site named for it primary function as 'The Magical Pickup Line Generator'. Here you type in the name of the person you wish to pick up and it generates you a pickup line. However as there is no one in particular I wish to use such a line on at the moment I used the names of my friends. My favourite so far being the response to the name George which was:
Your Pickup Line Is |
 You might not be the best looking girl here. But beauty is only a light switch away. |
The website for your amusement is here The Magical Pick Up Line Generator. But remember my friends you need to use your powers for good not evil.
Catchya
Alice
Melbourne, Day Three
Technically, this post is a bit misleading, since this is actually my fourth day in Melbourne. I tried to write a post last night, I really did, but I just didn't get around to it. That's actually an incredibly poor excuse given that yesterday was the first day where literally nothing happened. Honestly. I woke up (late), Julian had a hangover, Julian hugged lots of people, I ate something at some point during the day, and then went to sleep after watching lots of Stargate. Essentially, a normal Adelaide day, but in a crazy city.
Since, basically, nothing worth putting in a blog happened yesterday, I was a bit concerned about writing another blog post again. The question on my mind was, what was better? Writing often about nothing, or sparingly about something? Julian was no help in answering this question, as he was too busy playing bad guitar tunes, and listening to a song for about two seconds before switching to the next.
While I'm writing this, though, something has occurred to me. This blog was started, according to Andrew, because none of us led interesting enough lives to have an interesting blog on our own. This is a pretty interesting point, simply because of another comment Andrew made on my previous Melbourne post - namely, that I seemed to be a much more interesting person while in Melbourne.
So, the question becomes, what defines an interesting person? If we're to believe Andrew, it involves going to see Dylan Moran, and also thinking about how to improve handling on Amish carts. On the random topic of Amish people, I also found out the other day that they don't wear moustaches because they believe moustaches are associated with the military. I guess that means this guy would rather make war than love...
At any rate, back to my original rambling point, does my going to see Dylan Moran make me an interesting person? Admittedly, Moran's a fantastic comedian, and really interesting to see live, but does that make me an interesting person for going to see him? Does Moran's interesting nature rub off onto me, much like some humour-based piece of bacterium?
Now, this bit of thought led me to something else, which was, maybe this is only happening because it's interesting that I'm in another city, watching Dylan Moran, while thinking about the Amish. Maybe there has to be a critical mass of interesting things that all happen at once before enough interesting things happen that people start to define me as an interesting person.
From here, my mind just arched to a really interesting possibility. What if we made a pact with ourselves, whereby we would not allow ourselves to go home after work and simply collapse but, instead, make sure that at least three interesting things happened that involved us each day. If nothing was happening then, by God, we'd go out and make something happen, whether it was watching a particularly good movie, learning how to play a new tune on a particular instrument, or even flirting with that cute girl that we've always wanted, but have been too nervous to go after. Hell, it doesn't matter if we don't succeed at any of the above, as long as we tried - failures can be interesting too.
I think that's about enough rambling for now, but I hope everyone has a bit of a think about what I've said, and tries to see if they can manage, even for one week, doing three interesting things every day.
EDIT: Corrected some proof reading errors, added more hyperlinks
Since, basically, nothing worth putting in a blog happened yesterday, I was a bit concerned about writing another blog post again. The question on my mind was, what was better? Writing often about nothing, or sparingly about something? Julian was no help in answering this question, as he was too busy playing bad guitar tunes, and listening to a song for about two seconds before switching to the next.
While I'm writing this, though, something has occurred to me. This blog was started, according to Andrew, because none of us led interesting enough lives to have an interesting blog on our own. This is a pretty interesting point, simply because of another comment Andrew made on my previous Melbourne post - namely, that I seemed to be a much more interesting person while in Melbourne.
So, the question becomes, what defines an interesting person? If we're to believe Andrew, it involves going to see Dylan Moran, and also thinking about how to improve handling on Amish carts. On the random topic of Amish people, I also found out the other day that they don't wear moustaches because they believe moustaches are associated with the military. I guess that means this guy would rather make war than love...
At any rate, back to my original rambling point, does my going to see Dylan Moran make me an interesting person? Admittedly, Moran's a fantastic comedian, and really interesting to see live, but does that make me an interesting person for going to see him? Does Moran's interesting nature rub off onto me, much like some humour-based piece of bacterium?
Now, this bit of thought led me to something else, which was, maybe this is only happening because it's interesting that I'm in another city, watching Dylan Moran, while thinking about the Amish. Maybe there has to be a critical mass of interesting things that all happen at once before enough interesting things happen that people start to define me as an interesting person.
From here, my mind just arched to a really interesting possibility. What if we made a pact with ourselves, whereby we would not allow ourselves to go home after work and simply collapse but, instead, make sure that at least three interesting things happened that involved us each day. If nothing was happening then, by God, we'd go out and make something happen, whether it was watching a particularly good movie, learning how to play a new tune on a particular instrument, or even flirting with that cute girl that we've always wanted, but have been too nervous to go after. Hell, it doesn't matter if we don't succeed at any of the above, as long as we tried - failures can be interesting too.
I think that's about enough rambling for now, but I hope everyone has a bit of a think about what I've said, and tries to see if they can manage, even for one week, doing three interesting things every day.
EDIT: Corrected some proof reading errors, added more hyperlinks
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Byron Wrapup Pt 2
follows on from this post
Day Two: Friday
Had a big sleep in and got to the festival about 2:00. It rained intermittently all day, but so far the grass was holding up reasonably well under the feet of the stampeding masses, and muddy patches were sparse. My ears had warmed up on the Thursday, and I was suitably receptive for a day of sensational music.
Paolo Nutini (Andrew's discovery of the festival!)
Didn't know anything about this dude. He was on early, so I wasn't expecting much. Despite his (stage?) name, he's actually Scottish, and sings as if he's impersonating an old Scottish man with a lisp. It took me a while to get over this and realise that his songs actually kicked serious arse. His band were good too, and soon the crowd were loving it. I've since listened to his album, and he mutes the whole old man impersonation considerably on his CD. I strongly recommend having a listen to some of his stuff (ugh, MySpace). Next time I'm in at JB, I'm buying his album (which was an exhorbitant $35 at the Bluesfest).
Rodriguez
If Bob Dylan and Nick Drake had a baby, and that baby grew up to be a 60ish year old musician, he would sound like Rodriguez. Apparently he was big in the 70's. Seems as though he's run out of steam in the 21st century. Definitely one for the die hard older fans, who seemed to dig him. The most interesting thing about his performance was that he spoke to the audience only in cryptic, rhyming couplets. Oh, and he couldn't remember the name of his band members, so he had to ask his bassist to introduce the band. One day I want to be so famous I don't have to remember names.
Gomez
I'd really only heard a couple of tracks by these guys before the fest. They're the kind of band that seems to crop up pretty frequently on chillout compilations, so I was expecting something pretty laid back. Actually, they know how to rock. They're about a seven piece, with three guys up the front singing, and two drummers. An impressive setup, and an impressive sound. Left me wanting to hear more of their stuff.
Joss Stone
She's prrdy. Well, about as prrdy as British girls get, anyway. The music was... inoffensive. Well, maybe that's a little harsh. She started off in a fairly poppy kind of vein, and it was only really in the second half of her set that she let the band (which was extensive and talented) do their thing. She does have an amazing voice, but like Vanessa Amarosi among others, some purists might question what she was doing at the Bluesfest in the first place.
Animal Liberation Orchestra (Most mind blowing surprise of the festival!)
I almost wasn't going to stay around for these guys, because I had half a mind to check out Terrence Simien and the Zydeco Experience. Laziness won the day, and I stayed at Mojo. A good thing, too, because these guys are my type of people. They're a guitar/piano, bass, and drums trio that kick out the jams mellow-wise, if you catch my drift. They kind of sound like if Donovan Frankenreiter came from a good middle class family in Boston, and formed a band with two of his clones.
Anyway, about a third of the way through their set, they call out a good friend of theirs - Jack muthafuckin Johnson!! JJ wasn't even playing at the fest, so I don't know if he happened to be in town, or what. At that stage, Mojo was about half full, but as word spread, you could see people literally sprinting from the other side of the festival to get to the tent. The rest of the set was about a 50-50 mix of Jack Johnson and ALO songs. It was all good. I've now got their album, and a memory of a great performance I won't soon forget.
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
Bela Fleck is widely regarded as the world's best banjo player. He teams up with the Flecktones, comprising a guy who could be the world's best bass player; a clarinet/sax player who can play two saxophones at the same time; and a guy in a pirate hat who calls himself the 'future pirate' or something similar, who weilds a homemade guitar-shaped looking device, which is actually a drum machine.
There's no pretense of organisation here - Bela and the Flecktones don't play songs so much as 10 minute long solo opportunities. I heard a helluva lot of bass solos over the five days - some good, some bad - but the Flecktones' bassist was the best.
Ziggy Marley
I'd been looking forward to this all day. I'd seen Jr. Gong Marley at last year's Bluesfest, but Ziggy is probably the true heir to his father Bob's legacy. I was right up the front of the Crossroads stage, and the smaller tent worked well to get everyone on their feet and packed in tight. Marijuana smoke filled the air and put everyone in the right frame of mind as Ziggy came out and launched in to a few of his own songs. Over the course of the set he probably played about six or seven Bob Marley tunes, which was what the crowd was there to see. Fantastic stuff.
Miscellaneous Reviews
Langos - 9/10: Langos is hungarian fried bread, topped with garlic sauce, sour cream, goulash and cheese. Kind of like a pizza without meat. Reasonably priced and very filling, it's the ultimate festival food. I was walking up to random strangers and shouting 'get one of these!'
Byron Bay Mud - 6/10: It pretty much rained off and on for the five days, which meant the festival grounds got muddier and muddier each day. I didn't bring waterproof shoes, and was extremely worried about contracting trench foot. Byron Bay mud has a curious consistency, though. It's thick, and if your shoes get muddy and then have time to dry, the mud sets and actually serves as a waterproof coating. The mud loses points, though, because now I'm back home I can't get it off my shoes.
Jim Beam - 10/10: A drink for bogans, you say? Well... yes. But for some reason my time at the festival has converted me into a Jim Beam fan...
Day Two: Friday
Had a big sleep in and got to the festival about 2:00. It rained intermittently all day, but so far the grass was holding up reasonably well under the feet of the stampeding masses, and muddy patches were sparse. My ears had warmed up on the Thursday, and I was suitably receptive for a day of sensational music.
Paolo Nutini (Andrew's discovery of the festival!)
Didn't know anything about this dude. He was on early, so I wasn't expecting much. Despite his (stage?) name, he's actually Scottish, and sings as if he's impersonating an old Scottish man with a lisp. It took me a while to get over this and realise that his songs actually kicked serious arse. His band were good too, and soon the crowd were loving it. I've since listened to his album, and he mutes the whole old man impersonation considerably on his CD. I strongly recommend having a listen to some of his stuff (ugh, MySpace). Next time I'm in at JB, I'm buying his album (which was an exhorbitant $35 at the Bluesfest).
Rodriguez
If Bob Dylan and Nick Drake had a baby, and that baby grew up to be a 60ish year old musician, he would sound like Rodriguez. Apparently he was big in the 70's. Seems as though he's run out of steam in the 21st century. Definitely one for the die hard older fans, who seemed to dig him. The most interesting thing about his performance was that he spoke to the audience only in cryptic, rhyming couplets. Oh, and he couldn't remember the name of his band members, so he had to ask his bassist to introduce the band. One day I want to be so famous I don't have to remember names.
Gomez
I'd really only heard a couple of tracks by these guys before the fest. They're the kind of band that seems to crop up pretty frequently on chillout compilations, so I was expecting something pretty laid back. Actually, they know how to rock. They're about a seven piece, with three guys up the front singing, and two drummers. An impressive setup, and an impressive sound. Left me wanting to hear more of their stuff.
Joss Stone
She's prrdy. Well, about as prrdy as British girls get, anyway. The music was... inoffensive. Well, maybe that's a little harsh. She started off in a fairly poppy kind of vein, and it was only really in the second half of her set that she let the band (which was extensive and talented) do their thing. She does have an amazing voice, but like Vanessa Amarosi among others, some purists might question what she was doing at the Bluesfest in the first place.
Animal Liberation Orchestra (Most mind blowing surprise of the festival!)
I almost wasn't going to stay around for these guys, because I had half a mind to check out Terrence Simien and the Zydeco Experience. Laziness won the day, and I stayed at Mojo. A good thing, too, because these guys are my type of people. They're a guitar/piano, bass, and drums trio that kick out the jams mellow-wise, if you catch my drift. They kind of sound like if Donovan Frankenreiter came from a good middle class family in Boston, and formed a band with two of his clones.
Anyway, about a third of the way through their set, they call out a good friend of theirs - Jack muthafuckin Johnson!! JJ wasn't even playing at the fest, so I don't know if he happened to be in town, or what. At that stage, Mojo was about half full, but as word spread, you could see people literally sprinting from the other side of the festival to get to the tent. The rest of the set was about a 50-50 mix of Jack Johnson and ALO songs. It was all good. I've now got their album, and a memory of a great performance I won't soon forget.
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
Bela Fleck is widely regarded as the world's best banjo player. He teams up with the Flecktones, comprising a guy who could be the world's best bass player; a clarinet/sax player who can play two saxophones at the same time; and a guy in a pirate hat who calls himself the 'future pirate' or something similar, who weilds a homemade guitar-shaped looking device, which is actually a drum machine.
There's no pretense of organisation here - Bela and the Flecktones don't play songs so much as 10 minute long solo opportunities. I heard a helluva lot of bass solos over the five days - some good, some bad - but the Flecktones' bassist was the best.
Ziggy Marley
I'd been looking forward to this all day. I'd seen Jr. Gong Marley at last year's Bluesfest, but Ziggy is probably the true heir to his father Bob's legacy. I was right up the front of the Crossroads stage, and the smaller tent worked well to get everyone on their feet and packed in tight. Marijuana smoke filled the air and put everyone in the right frame of mind as Ziggy came out and launched in to a few of his own songs. Over the course of the set he probably played about six or seven Bob Marley tunes, which was what the crowd was there to see. Fantastic stuff.
Miscellaneous Reviews
Langos - 9/10: Langos is hungarian fried bread, topped with garlic sauce, sour cream, goulash and cheese. Kind of like a pizza without meat. Reasonably priced and very filling, it's the ultimate festival food. I was walking up to random strangers and shouting 'get one of these!'
Byron Bay Mud - 6/10: It pretty much rained off and on for the five days, which meant the festival grounds got muddier and muddier each day. I didn't bring waterproof shoes, and was extremely worried about contracting trench foot. Byron Bay mud has a curious consistency, though. It's thick, and if your shoes get muddy and then have time to dry, the mud sets and actually serves as a waterproof coating. The mud loses points, though, because now I'm back home I can't get it off my shoes.
Jim Beam - 10/10: A drink for bogans, you say? Well... yes. But for some reason my time at the festival has converted me into a Jim Beam fan...
Melbourne, Day Two
Hello all, and welcome to my second installment in my series of posts on the Melbourne holidays. I'm personally rather impressed that this second post even exists, partially because I'm tired, partially because I'm lazy, but mainly because I've had a bit to drink. Technically, my night isn't over just yet, but I thought a post now would be infinitely better than a post in say, one hour, when writing will become somewhat more difficult.
Melbourne so far has been treating me rather well. It rained today, which I suppose is par for course for the city. About two minutes later, it stopped raining, and the sun came out instead, followed by rain again in about twenty minutes. Again, this would have to be par for course for the city.
I'd have to say the highlight so far of my trip has been going to see Dylan Moran at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. There was no reason whatsoever to use hyperlinks for either of the previous two names, but by God, I like the pretty blue lines. Moran was his usual hilarious self, which is to say, a somewhat drunken Irishman making fun of anyone or anything that he could think of. It was fantastic, mainly because he didn't notice us.
Before ol' Dylan, we had a good little trip down to the Market, to have a look at various things that no person really needs, but that are nonetheless on sale. I managed to successfully waste time, and also have a small heart attack when I withdrew some cash and got a bank statement as to how much I had left - damn you Virgin!
Tomorrow, I'm going to be going to the Imax to see Frank Miller's 300 (oooh yeah, I'm definitely on a hyperlink power trip here). It should be a good little outing, and I'm hoping on getting some nice stylised violence worked into my holiday.
I think that's all for now - this post has basically consisted of me pulling words out of... somewhere, just to be able to say I had a post today. I'll post more tomorrow, with luck. I hope you're all doing well, and nothing too serious has happened in the outside world. Before I leave, I'll leave you with this momentary conundrum that's been plaguing me:
Would an Amish person lower their cart for better handling?
Melbourne so far has been treating me rather well. It rained today, which I suppose is par for course for the city. About two minutes later, it stopped raining, and the sun came out instead, followed by rain again in about twenty minutes. Again, this would have to be par for course for the city.
I'd have to say the highlight so far of my trip has been going to see Dylan Moran at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. There was no reason whatsoever to use hyperlinks for either of the previous two names, but by God, I like the pretty blue lines. Moran was his usual hilarious self, which is to say, a somewhat drunken Irishman making fun of anyone or anything that he could think of. It was fantastic, mainly because he didn't notice us.
Before ol' Dylan, we had a good little trip down to the Market, to have a look at various things that no person really needs, but that are nonetheless on sale. I managed to successfully waste time, and also have a small heart attack when I withdrew some cash and got a bank statement as to how much I had left - damn you Virgin!
Tomorrow, I'm going to be going to the Imax to see Frank Miller's 300 (oooh yeah, I'm definitely on a hyperlink power trip here). It should be a good little outing, and I'm hoping on getting some nice stylised violence worked into my holiday.
I think that's all for now - this post has basically consisted of me pulling words out of... somewhere, just to be able to say I had a post today. I'll post more tomorrow, with luck. I hope you're all doing well, and nothing too serious has happened in the outside world. Before I leave, I'll leave you with this momentary conundrum that's been plaguing me:
Would an Amish person lower their cart for better handling?
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Melbourne, Day One
Hello bloggers (And random economists), welcome to one of my first posts in a while.
As most of you know, I left for (and arrived in) Melbourne today, for a 7 day holiday. I noted that I was beginning what I'm hoping will be a fun and exciting vacation on Friday the 13th, a fact that would no doubt send shivers of vindictive pleasure down the spine of every high school teacher of mine who'd ever accused me of being the Antichrist.
To begin with, I had planned on driving to Melbourne, mainly because I love the feeling of driving through country towns (and, inevitably, not stopping as you slowly realise that any town that has a tin shed as a town hall probably isn't worth exploring). I had thought that, what with my shiny, new Lancer, a long interstate drive was just what the doctor ordered.
Alas, though, my mechanic had a different opinion, and I was told that, until my car had at least one service, it would probably be a poor idea to take it for a long journey. So, one day before I was supposed to be driving to Melbourne, I decided to fly. Being a bit of a poor bugger, I chose to fly Virgin, and that was where my adventure began.
I arrived at the airport relatively early, to pick up my ticket and wait pointlessly at the departure gate for a bit. Eventually, my flight came and I happily strode through the boarding area, happy to finally be on my way. About 30 seconds later, I came upon an obstacle. I'd reached a fork in the path, with one path being a well light corridor that I presume continued onto the plane in glorious airport-decor splendor, and the other being a set of concrete stairs, that simply went down to god knows where. A typically cheery Virgin sign on the wall read that passengers with seat numbers 1-14 could take the shiny, happy corridor, while the rest of us would have the reassuring theme of industrial concrete to guide us to our destination. A few passengers, the privileged elite, happily strode forth into the corridor, while the vast unwashed masses began their inevitable trudge down the stairs. Pausing for a moment to express my envy for Business class passengers and their luxurious path, I took the one more traveled by.
Our concrete-laden descent ended up taking us to the airport tarmac, where I happily boarded the plane, eager to find my seat, and also escape the unique smell of airplane fuel being loaded. I sat down on my seat, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Bob Evans being piped through the plane.
Eventually, though, "I believe in Love" was cut off, in favour of a much less romantic, though probably more practical, demonstration of the safety features of the plane. I dutifully listened as Sarah, my wonderful hostess, explained the various things we'd need to do in case of an emergency. I didn't take any of them in, of course, but I figured I could always ask the person next to me, if worst came to worst.
With the safety features of the airplane taken care of, Sarah launched into a chat about the in-flight entertainment that Virgin was offering on the phone. She directed our attention to the wonderful LCD in front of us, she directed our attention to the wonderful controls for those screens on our seats, she explained to us how the wonderful people at Foxtel had provided us with a multitude of wonderful channels to choose from and then, finally, she directed our attention to the wonderful credit card slots next to the LCD panels, which would allow us to actually use all this wonderful entertainment, for the low price of just six dollars.
As Sarah explained all this, the LCD monitor happily showed advertisement after advertisement (Navman GPS - it's like having a local in your car!) I decided not to take up her (incredibly good value) offer, and instead contented myself with a good book instead. The adverts, though, seemed to be there to stay. I periodically tore myself from my book to check up on what was being sold. One of the more interesting ads was for Matavai Resort. The ad wasn't interesting due to anything the resort was offering, but more for the seemingly random ticker tape of words that were scrolling across the bottom of the screen during the entirety of the ad. Along with "Scuba Diving", and "Sailing", and the usual resort-type activities, Matavai also seemed to offer "E Bay", and "Pussies". That one managed to puzzle me, though not nearly as much as the next advert section, which began with a title screen called "Virgin Voyeur Active", and then proceeded to be two minutes of scantily clad women running around in bikinis.
During this all, Sarah again approached, this time with an offer of a sandwich from the menu, or alternatively a drink, or chips. You'll be interested to know that Virgin charges five dollars for two pieces of bread and some ham and cheese. Obviously, Virgin seemed to be the Pizza Shop of the skies, suckering you in with cheap Pizza that goes to Melbourne, only to gouge you on Garlic Bread that keeps the entire operation afloat. Still, because Sarah was cute, and I was hungry, I bought the food all the same.
All too quickly, though, the entire thing was over and the plane landed, leaving me cold, alone and unsatisfied on the Melbourne airport tarmac. I picked up my bag, gave Julian a quick ring to let him know that I'd arrived, and popped off into the toilet. You'll all be interested to know that the humble condom dispenser has now evolved into a much more entrepreneurial device, that not only dispenses condoms, but also does breath mints, breath sprays, deodorant and hair gel. Hooray for capitalism!
Finally, Julian arrived, picked me up, and we went back to his place, where I promptly settled in, and was treated to a viewing of the most bizarre film I've ever seen.
And that's where I'm up to folks. Bit of a long post this one, and I'm sorry for making you all read through it (Hah, I kid myself that you have :P). The aim right now is to basically write one post every night for each night I'm in Melbourne. I guess you'll all know if that's worked out or not after tomorrow night. For now, good night, and hope Adelaide's treating you all well (Except you Trent, you damn Finnish person you :P)
As most of you know, I left for (and arrived in) Melbourne today, for a 7 day holiday. I noted that I was beginning what I'm hoping will be a fun and exciting vacation on Friday the 13th, a fact that would no doubt send shivers of vindictive pleasure down the spine of every high school teacher of mine who'd ever accused me of being the Antichrist.
To begin with, I had planned on driving to Melbourne, mainly because I love the feeling of driving through country towns (and, inevitably, not stopping as you slowly realise that any town that has a tin shed as a town hall probably isn't worth exploring). I had thought that, what with my shiny, new Lancer, a long interstate drive was just what the doctor ordered.
Alas, though, my mechanic had a different opinion, and I was told that, until my car had at least one service, it would probably be a poor idea to take it for a long journey. So, one day before I was supposed to be driving to Melbourne, I decided to fly. Being a bit of a poor bugger, I chose to fly Virgin, and that was where my adventure began.
I arrived at the airport relatively early, to pick up my ticket and wait pointlessly at the departure gate for a bit. Eventually, my flight came and I happily strode through the boarding area, happy to finally be on my way. About 30 seconds later, I came upon an obstacle. I'd reached a fork in the path, with one path being a well light corridor that I presume continued onto the plane in glorious airport-decor splendor, and the other being a set of concrete stairs, that simply went down to god knows where. A typically cheery Virgin sign on the wall read that passengers with seat numbers 1-14 could take the shiny, happy corridor, while the rest of us would have the reassuring theme of industrial concrete to guide us to our destination. A few passengers, the privileged elite, happily strode forth into the corridor, while the vast unwashed masses began their inevitable trudge down the stairs. Pausing for a moment to express my envy for Business class passengers and their luxurious path, I took the one more traveled by.
Our concrete-laden descent ended up taking us to the airport tarmac, where I happily boarded the plane, eager to find my seat, and also escape the unique smell of airplane fuel being loaded. I sat down on my seat, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Bob Evans being piped through the plane.
Eventually, though, "I believe in Love" was cut off, in favour of a much less romantic, though probably more practical, demonstration of the safety features of the plane. I dutifully listened as Sarah, my wonderful hostess, explained the various things we'd need to do in case of an emergency. I didn't take any of them in, of course, but I figured I could always ask the person next to me, if worst came to worst.
Unless they were already dead, of course. Forgetful people, take note, always try and aim for a middle seat in economy, so you have two potential people to ask for help, if you ever run into problems.
With the safety features of the airplane taken care of, Sarah launched into a chat about the in-flight entertainment that Virgin was offering on the phone. She directed our attention to the wonderful LCD in front of us, she directed our attention to the wonderful controls for those screens on our seats, she explained to us how the wonderful people at Foxtel had provided us with a multitude of wonderful channels to choose from and then, finally, she directed our attention to the wonderful credit card slots next to the LCD panels, which would allow us to actually use all this wonderful entertainment, for the low price of just six dollars.
As Sarah explained all this, the LCD monitor happily showed advertisement after advertisement (Navman GPS - it's like having a local in your car!) I decided not to take up her (incredibly good value) offer, and instead contented myself with a good book instead. The adverts, though, seemed to be there to stay. I periodically tore myself from my book to check up on what was being sold. One of the more interesting ads was for Matavai Resort. The ad wasn't interesting due to anything the resort was offering, but more for the seemingly random ticker tape of words that were scrolling across the bottom of the screen during the entirety of the ad. Along with "Scuba Diving", and "Sailing", and the usual resort-type activities, Matavai also seemed to offer "E Bay", and "Pussies". That one managed to puzzle me, though not nearly as much as the next advert section, which began with a title screen called "Virgin Voyeur Active", and then proceeded to be two minutes of scantily clad women running around in bikinis.
During this all, Sarah again approached, this time with an offer of a sandwich from the menu, or alternatively a drink, or chips. You'll be interested to know that Virgin charges five dollars for two pieces of bread and some ham and cheese. Obviously, Virgin seemed to be the Pizza Shop of the skies, suckering you in with cheap Pizza that goes to Melbourne, only to gouge you on Garlic Bread that keeps the entire operation afloat. Still, because Sarah was cute, and I was hungry, I bought the food all the same.
All too quickly, though, the entire thing was over and the plane landed, leaving me cold, alone and unsatisfied on the Melbourne airport tarmac. I picked up my bag, gave Julian a quick ring to let him know that I'd arrived, and popped off into the toilet. You'll all be interested to know that the humble condom dispenser has now evolved into a much more entrepreneurial device, that not only dispenses condoms, but also does breath mints, breath sprays, deodorant and hair gel. Hooray for capitalism!
Finally, Julian arrived, picked me up, and we went back to his place, where I promptly settled in, and was treated to a viewing of the most bizarre film I've ever seen.
And that's where I'm up to folks. Bit of a long post this one, and I'm sorry for making you all read through it (Hah, I kid myself that you have :P). The aim right now is to basically write one post every night for each night I'm in Melbourne. I guess you'll all know if that's worked out or not after tomorrow night. For now, good night, and hope Adelaide's treating you all well (Except you Trent, you damn Finnish person you :P)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Byron Wrapup Pt 1
More astute readers will know that I've been at the Byron Bay Blues and Roots festival for the past week. It's a five day event that takes place a couple of hours south of Surfers Paridise, and has, in my opinion, consistently the best lineup of acts out of any Australian music event.
What follows is part one of an extensive (tedious??) recount (gloat??) of my experiences at the 'fest. For those of you with itchy feet, here's the three word summary: Best Goddamn Bluesfest Ever! Click on the pic below for an overview of the program. Acts I saw are highlighted in blue.
Day One: Thursday
Despite the fact that the opening acts weren't starting until fiveish, we got up early to play a round of golf at the Lismore Workers Club course. It's a lovely course, and it would have been a good chance to unwind in readiness for five days of peace and love, but I was not at the top of my game. As anyone who plays golf knows, this is a euphemism that means I walked around the course silently spewing white hot frustration, frequently stopping to whack the ball 20m into the next patch of rough.
Still, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and, to paraphrase Brad Pitt, at least no one was throwing my severed penis out of a moving car. After we handed in our clubs we had a pie and a couple of Tooheys Olds at the clubhouse. For some reason, Tooheys really does taste better on tap and in NSW.
After a powernap back at the country club at which we were staying (aka my uncle's boarding school) it was time to hit the road. I was keen to get to the fest by 4:00, since there was to be an unadvertised performance by Ben Kweller in the smallest of the four stages. We took the back roads into Byron to avoid the inevitable traffic jams, and got a park 10 mins walk from the site of the festival. We had arrived.
This is a smaller version of a very big stitched image (click to enlarge, though). If anyone really wants to see the huge version, I'll have to get a Picassa account or something. I haven't had time to photoshop the joins out yet.
Ben Kweller (solo)
By the time we'd gotten our wristbands on and scooted over to the APRA stage, BK's set had already started. There were bouncers at the entrance to the tent and a small line had formed. The evil Coke overlords control this stage - entry is permitted to the first 300 people who supply the Coke reps with a (usually fake) email address and mobile number. Apparently registration had finished and the tent had reached capacity. I hung around outside anyway, because the performance was being displayed on a big screen just above the entrance, albeit accompanied by the muffled sounds emerging from within.
Gradually, people started to leave the tent. I jumped into the line, and within minutes was transported into the dark bowels of the Coke marketing machine. As I passed down the metaphorical corporate esophagus, I was greeted by a smiling blond succubus, who offered me a choice: would I prefer a free Coke, or a free Coke Zero? Feeling somehow dirtied, I reached out for the Coke. If I was going to be forced to look refreshed for the cameras (which were recording the performance for a Coke Live 'n' Local show), I opted to do so with the product that didn't taste like liquid cardboard.
In any case, Ben Kweller was worth selling my soul for. He sang a few tunes off his latest album while playing guitar, then switched over to keyboard and did some of his older stuff. I think he had a bit of a cold, but no one seemed to mind. His style of music's really suited to intimate venues like the APRA stage. I'm sure he won over some new converts, proving that good can come of even a Coke marketing excercise.
After his set, Kweller answered a few questions, including one about whether the Bens (superband comprising BK, Ben Folds and Ben Lee) would ever re-form. BK said that that would definitely happen at some stage, although he didn't know exactly when, and that it could involve a whole album and a world tour! Sweet.
The Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars
These guys are always a great opening act for any festival. Everybody listening has fun, loses their inhibitions, and walks away ready to listen to more music. High energy stuff, with the bassist playing his guitar over his head for two whole songs, all the while swaying and grinning like a crazy man. Their sound is a mixture of Cuban influences and African beats. A happiness injection.
Ben Kweller
At 7:00, Ben was back with his band on the largest stage. The band worked well, and they tried to throw in a few blues undertones to the performance, but the large crowd weren't really up for some of BK's slower numbers with quirky lyrics. The sound levels weren't quite right, and at times it was hard to hear the vocals. Still, it was a special performance for me because I'm a long time fan, and haven't seen him do his stuff live since the Bens tour years ago.
John Mayer
The only John Mayer stuff I'd heard previously were his radio friendly pop tunes. I was skeptical, but my travelling companions assured me he'd be worth seeing. They were dead right. Mayer is a guitar god, and the crap that makes it onto the radio doesn't do him justice. I saw more awesome guitar solos than I could count over the course of the festival, but John Mayer still sticks out in my mind as a highlight.
Wolfmother
I really didn't know what to expect from a live Wolfmother performance, but hey, if you're at a festival and they're playing, you can't not see them, right? It seemed like everyone in the entire festival shared the same view and was crammed into the Mojo tent. Wolfmother didn't disappoint. I'm a convert, and if you can catch them live, I'd recommend it. For a band that's been touring for - what, about a year? - they put an amazing amount of energy into their show. The lead singer really has an amazing voice, and can bust out a pretty decent solo. They finished on 'The Joker and the Thief', and the crowd just went nuts. A kickarse end to our first day.
What follows is part one of an extensive (tedious??) recount (gloat??) of my experiences at the 'fest. For those of you with itchy feet, here's the three word summary: Best Goddamn Bluesfest Ever! Click on the pic below for an overview of the program. Acts I saw are highlighted in blue.
Day One: Thursday
Despite the fact that the opening acts weren't starting until fiveish, we got up early to play a round of golf at the Lismore Workers Club course. It's a lovely course, and it would have been a good chance to unwind in readiness for five days of peace and love, but I was not at the top of my game. As anyone who plays golf knows, this is a euphemism that means I walked around the course silently spewing white hot frustration, frequently stopping to whack the ball 20m into the next patch of rough.
Still, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and, to paraphrase Brad Pitt, at least no one was throwing my severed penis out of a moving car. After we handed in our clubs we had a pie and a couple of Tooheys Olds at the clubhouse. For some reason, Tooheys really does taste better on tap and in NSW.
After a powernap back at the country club at which we were staying (aka my uncle's boarding school) it was time to hit the road. I was keen to get to the fest by 4:00, since there was to be an unadvertised performance by Ben Kweller in the smallest of the four stages. We took the back roads into Byron to avoid the inevitable traffic jams, and got a park 10 mins walk from the site of the festival. We had arrived.
This is a smaller version of a very big stitched image (click to enlarge, though). If anyone really wants to see the huge version, I'll have to get a Picassa account or something. I haven't had time to photoshop the joins out yet.Ben Kweller (solo)
By the time we'd gotten our wristbands on and scooted over to the APRA stage, BK's set had already started. There were bouncers at the entrance to the tent and a small line had formed. The evil Coke overlords control this stage - entry is permitted to the first 300 people who supply the Coke reps with a (usually fake) email address and mobile number. Apparently registration had finished and the tent had reached capacity. I hung around outside anyway, because the performance was being displayed on a big screen just above the entrance, albeit accompanied by the muffled sounds emerging from within.
Gradually, people started to leave the tent. I jumped into the line, and within minutes was transported into the dark bowels of the Coke marketing machine. As I passed down the metaphorical corporate esophagus, I was greeted by a smiling blond succubus, who offered me a choice: would I prefer a free Coke, or a free Coke Zero? Feeling somehow dirtied, I reached out for the Coke. If I was going to be forced to look refreshed for the cameras (which were recording the performance for a Coke Live 'n' Local show), I opted to do so with the product that didn't taste like liquid cardboard.
In any case, Ben Kweller was worth selling my soul for. He sang a few tunes off his latest album while playing guitar, then switched over to keyboard and did some of his older stuff. I think he had a bit of a cold, but no one seemed to mind. His style of music's really suited to intimate venues like the APRA stage. I'm sure he won over some new converts, proving that good can come of even a Coke marketing excercise.
After his set, Kweller answered a few questions, including one about whether the Bens (superband comprising BK, Ben Folds and Ben Lee) would ever re-form. BK said that that would definitely happen at some stage, although he didn't know exactly when, and that it could involve a whole album and a world tour! Sweet.
The Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars
These guys are always a great opening act for any festival. Everybody listening has fun, loses their inhibitions, and walks away ready to listen to more music. High energy stuff, with the bassist playing his guitar over his head for two whole songs, all the while swaying and grinning like a crazy man. Their sound is a mixture of Cuban influences and African beats. A happiness injection.
Ben Kweller
At 7:00, Ben was back with his band on the largest stage. The band worked well, and they tried to throw in a few blues undertones to the performance, but the large crowd weren't really up for some of BK's slower numbers with quirky lyrics. The sound levels weren't quite right, and at times it was hard to hear the vocals. Still, it was a special performance for me because I'm a long time fan, and haven't seen him do his stuff live since the Bens tour years ago.
John Mayer
The only John Mayer stuff I'd heard previously were his radio friendly pop tunes. I was skeptical, but my travelling companions assured me he'd be worth seeing. They were dead right. Mayer is a guitar god, and the crap that makes it onto the radio doesn't do him justice. I saw more awesome guitar solos than I could count over the course of the festival, but John Mayer still sticks out in my mind as a highlight.
Wolfmother
I really didn't know what to expect from a live Wolfmother performance, but hey, if you're at a festival and they're playing, you can't not see them, right? It seemed like everyone in the entire festival shared the same view and was crammed into the Mojo tent. Wolfmother didn't disappoint. I'm a convert, and if you can catch them live, I'd recommend it. For a band that's been touring for - what, about a year? - they put an amazing amount of energy into their show. The lead singer really has an amazing voice, and can bust out a pretty decent solo. They finished on 'The Joker and the Thief', and the crowd just went nuts. A kickarse end to our first day.
Maintaining a sense of perspective in today's world
As I'm sure we're all aware, there is quite a bit of crap going on in the world. It can all get a bit depressing, but I urge everyone to keep a sense of perspective.
Yes, the word 'Muslim' has become, in the minds of too many people, synonymous with the word 'terrorist'. Yes, the fear of change and the unknown is driving voters in western nations to elect conservative governments intent on bringing about a return to the 12th century. And yes, Network Ten have decided to put on another series of Big Brother this year.*
But despite all this, we can take solace in one simple fact:
Every 1 minute and 15 seconds, the monitor of the computer I'm currently using does, for no apparent reason, a sort of vertical mexican wave.
* And yes, whenever I create a list, it will always consist of two genuine elements followed by one silly one. It's no longer funny, I just do it because it's what I do. Much like the Family First party, a joke stops being funny the second it becomes institution.
Yes, the word 'Muslim' has become, in the minds of too many people, synonymous with the word 'terrorist'. Yes, the fear of change and the unknown is driving voters in western nations to elect conservative governments intent on bringing about a return to the 12th century. And yes, Network Ten have decided to put on another series of Big Brother this year.*
But despite all this, we can take solace in one simple fact:
Every 1 minute and 15 seconds, the monitor of the computer I'm currently using does, for no apparent reason, a sort of vertical mexican wave.
* And yes, whenever I create a list, it will always consist of two genuine elements followed by one silly one. It's no longer funny, I just do it because it's what I do. Much like the Family First party, a joke stops being funny the second it becomes institution.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Not strictly canonical
Here's something I whipped up for Jono. The rest of you can have a look, too, if you dare. Just click to enlarge. Warning: the easily offended will be.
Now, some of you might have some questions about this, and I propose that Jono should field them. After all, it was his idea originally.
There's another reason to direct your enquiries Jonowards. I'll be at the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival from tomorrow until mid next week. To which end: I want to see contributions from everyone up on this blog when I return. George has to post twice.
One final bit of housekeeping - for the (two) people who might care, I've posted an answer to the grammar problem I posed a couple of posts back. It's in the comments to that post.
As they say in Mexico, sayounara.
Now, some of you might have some questions about this, and I propose that Jono should field them. After all, it was his idea originally.
There's another reason to direct your enquiries Jonowards. I'll be at the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival from tomorrow until mid next week. To which end: I want to see contributions from everyone up on this blog when I return. George has to post twice.
One final bit of housekeeping - for the (two) people who might care, I've posted an answer to the grammar problem I posed a couple of posts back. It's in the comments to that post.
As they say in Mexico, sayounara.
Monday, April 2, 2007
I can be topical too!
Reading the paper today, I had a bit of a thought.
With the whole David Hicks thing, there are people who claim that those who protested on behalf of him did so due to a belief that he was innocent, whilst the protests were not about his culpability, but rather the unlawful conditions he was subjected to in Guantanamo.
So is it me, or is it ironic that it was likely those same people who vehemently proclaimed Princess Saint Schapelle Corby to be innocent, regardless of any little things like 'evidence'?
Ahh, politics. And to chime in on earlier topical rants, I'm all for the Government introducing a national broadband network. I mean, the other alternative is that Telstra does it, and who wants that?
Y'know, it could be fun to send dozens of Monopoly board games to Sol Trujillo... ;oP
And oh yeah, I'm in Adelaide. Who's doing what this weekend?
With the whole David Hicks thing, there are people who claim that those who protested on behalf of him did so due to a belief that he was innocent, whilst the protests were not about his culpability, but rather the unlawful conditions he was subjected to in Guantanamo.
So is it me, or is it ironic that it was likely those same people who vehemently proclaimed Princess Saint Schapelle Corby to be innocent, regardless of any little things like 'evidence'?
Ahh, politics. And to chime in on earlier topical rants, I'm all for the Government introducing a national broadband network. I mean, the other alternative is that Telstra does it, and who wants that?
Y'know, it could be fun to send dozens of Monopoly board games to Sol Trujillo... ;oP
And oh yeah, I'm in Adelaide. Who's doing what this weekend?
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Bits and pieces
Happy April Fool's Day, everyone! No, just kidding, you all suck.
Google Analytics is a beautiful thing. For people who actually make money off their sites from advertising, it provides them with a breakdown of who's clicking what, and when. For the rest of us, it provides lots of interesting facts about our readership. For instance:
In other news, the graph in my Journal of Jog has gone from a dot to a line. Also, today I was doing some cheese work, and I was so bored, my brain started to rebel by creating awful jokes. For instance:
Q: What did the Mozzarella say when the Edam told a bad joke?
A: 'That's not very Gouda'.
Until next week, I'm Monica Attard. Goodnight.
Google Analytics is a beautiful thing. For people who actually make money off their sites from advertising, it provides them with a breakdown of who's clicking what, and when. For the rest of us, it provides lots of interesting facts about our readership. For instance:
- This week we had our first Japanese visitor, from Shimbashi chou, which I seem to recall is a district in Tokyo
- Thanks to my obnoxious knocking of a much more famous blogger, our traffic this week was about six times higher than average.
- On five occasions, someone (almost certainly Alice) couldn't remember the URL for this blog, so had to google 'Salmon Conversations" to get here
- The only other visitor who's come from a search engine searched for "Gadens lawyers" + "billing targets". Hmm.
In other news, the graph in my Journal of Jog has gone from a dot to a line. Also, today I was doing some cheese work, and I was so bored, my brain started to rebel by creating awful jokes. For instance:
Q: What did the Mozzarella say when the Edam told a bad joke?
A: 'That's not very Gouda'.
Until next week, I'm Monica Attard. Goodnight.
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