I think I actually may have them.
You see there's this streetlight that I've been walking past every night on the way home from the gym that winks out exactly as I pass it.
Every night without fail this week - spooky.
Unfortunately my new found special power appears to be restricted to the one streetlight. All others appear immune.
Now where's my character on Heroes?
This just goes to show you can build up your cause all you like, but at the end of the day there's one person who will always prick your balloon.
Or shit on your bubble.
Among all of God's manifest powers let us not forget he apparently has a finely tuned sense of humour.
Seriously. I mean a Japanese whaling ship, the Nisshin Maru, catches fire in the Antarctic. The fire is made worse as it is fuelled by blubber from whale carcases and results in the ship being totally immobilised.
I actually have visions of a pod of whales gleefully swimming around the stricken vessel getting down to the Bloodhound Gang.
"The ship, the ship,
The ship is on fire,
We don't need no water,
Let the motherfucker burn,
Burn motherfucker burn."
Today I had my first experience of what is universally recognised as a classic NZ mountainbike ride - The Karapoti.
Made famous by the crazy Kennett Brothers it's 50 km of single trail and four wheel drive tracks through regenerating native bush. It's scenic as hell, but a right brutal bastard on the legs. There's a shit load of up (several sections of which cannot be ridden by mortal men), and heap of down (some of it vitually vertical). Hence the line flying or dying. You're either stuggling up a greasy slope a mere heartbeat from cardiac failure, or plummeting down a trail that seems like it was designed by Satan.
Here's exhibit number one; the rock garden.
Biking down here requires full suspension, nerves of steel, supreme skill, and not quite a full grasp on reality. It's not so much a track as it is a dry waterfall (though I hear in winter it actually is a watercourse).
So once you've bumped, bounced, and flagellated down that little gem you come across exhibit number two; the Devil's Staircase.
.
This picture doesn't do it justice. I couldn't get a decent shot on the really gnarly section as I was balancing my bike on my back while trying to climb what, to all intents and purposes, appeared to be a greasy clay cliff face.
However it's not all masochism in the wilderness. A lot of the track is really superb to ride. However you do need to watch out for the rocks.
Punctures and the Karapoti go together like crime and punishment. It's a fact of life that at some stage you're going to feel a little flat. I managed to get through with just the one today. But I did happen to snap my chain halfway up the third (and last) climb of the day. While I managed to jury rig a repair (thank God for chain breakers and spare links) having a shorter chain complete shagged the settings on my gears. Granny gear was not an option for what had to be the longest and steepest climb I've ever sweated through in my life. I think Hell wil be something like the experience I suffered.
Still this view and the corresponding downhill blast made it all worthwhile.
All in all this little adventure saw me go through 3 protein bars, 3 bottles of Powerade, 1 bike chain, 1 innertube in the space of just under five and a half hours.
Oh and I sweated off about 4kgs in fluid as well.
It was a blast.
Wow! You are truly a student of the Bible! Some of the questions were difficult, but they didn't slow you down! You know the books, the characters, the events . . . Very impressive!
Ultimate Bible Quiz
Create MySpace Quizzes
One of the things that continually bugs me about political partisanship is that blind loyalty walks hand in hand with blind stupidity.
The easiest example to give is from the situation I see here on many NZ blogs. The Labour Party is constantly derided by the conservatives for its trade union backing while the National Party is hounded by it's liberal opponents for its ties to big business. Somehow these geniuses fail to see that these groups are the respective constituents (to a certain extent) of both political parties.
Deriding Labour for its union connections, or National for its relationship with the Business Round Table, makes about as much sense as making dubious allegations about the Maori Party's connection to Maoridom.
"Y'know you can't trust those Maori Party MP's. Those fellahs are in the pocket of a bunch of brown people"
While mountainbiking is my first love (apologies to any girlfriends past and present who may be reading this) I also have a lot of time for flirting with road riding.
Call it the other woman if you will.
Anyway while you take you life into your own hands riding through urban Wellington (note to motorists - kindly learn to indicate, give way, and NOT cut corners) it's nice to find a safe, and relatively scenic little ride within minutes of the city centre.
There's a lovely little road that runs from the Ohariu Valley up to Makara and the top end of Karori. I especially like this little gorge area.
Flying through here is a lot of fun. Though it can get a little tense if you run into 4WDs coming the other way (that whole corner cutting driving on the wrong side of the road thing - again!)
Unfortunately it seems some friend(s) of society also consider it a good place to trash stolen cars. If you live in Wellington and have had your 1980's Toyota Corolla sedan pinched then I've got some bad news for you.
Don't you just love the way they ripped everything out of it. Even so far as taking out all the seats (bar the drivers, and taking the wheels just before torching it.
All that energy misdirected on stealing a worthless piece of shit car. Obviously they're not what you'd call criminal geniuses.
The thing is when a politician makes a move like this there is always the chance it may come back in the distant future and bite him on the arse. Still he's managed to get away with it and I can say with all honesty had Helen Clark, Winston Peters, or Peter Dunne tried such a move they would have been hammered mercilessly by the fourth estate. Key, by reason of his political inexperience, and possibly his much promoted working class roots, has been cut some slack.
To be fair I think it's entirely likely that John Key made the offer of the Waitangi trip without any consideration of manipulative politics. From what I have observed of him he is the type to make such an offer spontaneously. He is that sort of guy - perhaps a side effect of having a life before politics rather than having been involved in it continuously as a career choice.
The problem is that the media remembers these sort of happenings and now this young girl may become a benchmark for John Key's future political career. Any policy announcement on dealing with the economic underclass will no doubt see a hack or three descending on McGehan Close to vist Aroha and her family to find out "what they think of it".
Also the media will very likely keep tabs on young Aroha's progress through life and measure her success, or failure, against John Key and the vision he is espousing.
One wonders what might happen if Aroha one day ends up at, say, Arohata.
I got this little gem of a press release direct from Ireland. While it's not quite as good as this one it's still a bit of a hoot.
(I've cut all the political waffle out of it and left the important stuff)
Ten years of Govt neglect of Gardaí coming home to roost.
Fine Gael Laois/Offaly candidate Charles Flanagan has said he was dismayed to hear of an incident in which a suspect was brought to a Garda Station in a hired farm trailer because he was too tall for a normal Garda car, and there is no Public Order Vehicle (Paddy Wagon) in the whole of Co. Laois.
“The suspect, a heavy-set man, was too tall for a conventional Garda car. And because there is no Public Order Vehicle in the whole of Co. Laois, the suspect was finally tied in to a farm trailer and removed from the scene."
Ends
The last time I experienced the whole drama of body changes was during puberty about 20 years ago. That's something I don't want to go into right now and it had been an event, once over, that I thought meant life would be all plain sailing from then on.
Oh how wrong I was.
You see the powers that be are more than happy to warn us about puberty and sexual maturation. Hell there are even books published about it for God's sake! However there seems to be a distinct reticence to be quite as informative about all the weird shit that happens to you after you turn 30. I want to know where the book is about the way a man's hair leaves his head and heads for his back after he turns 29. Is it next to the one that tells of the advent of grey pubic hair? (who knew that happened?!)
I only raise this because the other day I thought I'd come across one of these terrible aging symptoms afflicting me. Just after jumping out of the shower I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and it went something like this.
"What the fuck! ... man breasts. Uuurgh. Where the hell did they come from?"
But fear not dear readers, it turns out I was grossly mistaken.
Over the past two months I've been exercising more often than I ever have before and this includes daily visits to the gym. Now I've managed to avoid gyms for all of my life thanks to a solid aversion to lycra, muscle bunnies, personal trainers, and exercise Nazis. So is it any wonder I have no idea of what some of the consequences of regular exercise are?
It turns out I have pectoral muscles.
Who would have thunk it?
A rich white man, leader of a predominantly white and middle class political party, extols the dangers of a growing economic underclass in NZ.
Interesting sentiments.
A pity he made it to a room full of white wealthy people who would rather not have anything to do with the poor.
Maybe it would have been better to talk to the economic underclass rather than about them?
With the return to work beckoning I decided to have a crack at a local mountainbike trail that I previously hadn't tried before. Makara is a lot of fun but I felt it was time for a change.
This little gem is called the Fenceline and runs around the Karori Wildlife Sanctuary. It's a tough wee ride because, if you follow the fence, you follow the line of the hills meaning there are some tough climbs to do. Granny gear is your friend. Though you wouldn't know it from the picture above.
This one however may give you some idea. That climb to the top left is the sort you swallow your pride and walk up. Unless you are truly and extremely fit all you'll achieve from biking up there is a heart attack.
Mind you the view from the top makes it all worthwhile!
In line with what I put up a few weeks ago here's another little medical gem for you.
Yes, you can have sex with your 28 week pregnant girlfriend who is hospitalized for pregnancy induced hypertension, but don't be surprised if her blood pressure goes through the roof and she needs a stat C-section.
Politicians often get a hard time from the public for the amount of work they're seen to do (or not to do as the case may be). Now this is terribly unfair as, courtesy of my Molesworth Mole, I've discovered a place within the precincts of NZ's Parliament where a lot of sweat and hard work takes place.
Here to be precise.
In fact to ease the load they can even stay up to date on latest current events, even as they exercycle their flab away.
And when the work is done they have this to offer them blessed relief from the heat of their labours.
Pretty flash eh? Just another sample of how a small proportion of your taxes are spent.
I haven't been posting of late because of some glitches in Blogger. For some nefarious reason it's decided it won't let me post pictures or create hyperlinks. Sometimes it won't even let me publish.
As soon as things are sorted normal service will resume.
OK so it's not a great time to be a Black Cap's fan at the moment. Swinging yorkers and quality offspin seem to be enough to instil a complete menatal breakdown in the batting order. Sorry boys but 73 just doesn't cut it.
When the perennial bovver boy Craig McMillan, not a man known for his reserved, intelligent or cautious approach to batting, top scores with 29 you know your team has serious issues.
So how do we sum up the side at the moment? Embarrassing, laughable, inept? All of the above?
I also note team Captain Stephen Fleming really benefited from his 3 match rest - a five ball duck. At least he had the decency to front up and lambast his side's effort (mind you he'd have looked damned silly if he'd tried to defend it), but strong words simply aren't enough.
Here's a question for you; if you had to choose a Black Cap to bat for your life who would it be? I can honestly say at the moment James Franklin might have to be the one. And isn't that a scary thought?
Either way the Black Caps are going to have to pull finger and do it soon. They're so much better than what they're showing us (even with players like Styris and Oram unavailable because of injury) and if they don't up their game who's going to bother to shell out to see them play. Personally I took more joy out of watching the Ashes Series than I did the Black Caps versus Sri Lanka, and as a Kiwi who's passionate about cricket that's not a good thing.
To put it in perspective could you imaginge Kiwi cricket fans going this far to see their side play?
Right that's the depressing shit out of the way. This next tale is much better though you'd almost have to think someone was pulling your leg. This bloke really needs to be buying a lottery ticket. Imagine having 31 heart attacks in the one ambulance trip and living to tell the tale.
Mind you if he'd been a Black Cap he wouldn't have survived the first one.
Remember Tom Wilson?
Actually I'd be surprised if you did. He was the guy who played Biff in the Back to the Future Movies. You know the bully that got his jollies out of beating up on the McFly family. Well those were pretty much the only films he ever did and he disappeared amidst the detritus of Hollywood history.
But then the other day I found this on Youtube:
Not that much of a chip on his shoulder is there?
This is one for all my fellow grinches. Seasons Greetings to you all!
This is part one of three. Please make sure you see the rest.
I shall now disappear and continue my annual practice of evading family Christmnas gatherings and eluding workmates and friends who try to co-opt me into their events on the argument of: "it's not right to be alone at Christmas".
I've got news for you. It's bliss.
Actually I'm sure Mary wasn't to chuffed about having Joseph, three strange bearded astrologers, and a menagerie in attendance when she was giving birth to the Messiah. I bet she woud have preferred a few qualified medical professionals and an epidural as opposed to gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
I was going to write a piece about what might happen if Jesus had been born in our times. However someone much more talented than I beat me to it.
One thing I do know is that Jesus would never make it into a decent nightclub.
"Oi hippy! No sandals, piss off!"
