Doomed.

'Tis the end of days ....

apparently.

BTW what I had last week (see below) was in no way related to the current goings on.

Although I may have said that I had Swine Flu before it became fashionable.

A Funny Thing

Yesterday Christchurch hosted an international conference on potatoes.

Ok that's strange enough. It's kind of weird that something so humble as a potato can be the the subject of international focus.

But what made the event so delightful was one of its attendees.



















Yes it was former NZ Prime Minister Jim Bolger - aka "Spud" Bolger.

Delightful!

Never Fuck With a Dentist.

This morning I was having one of those terrible semi-muffled conversations with my dentist.

You know the one. He's talking away merrily while you're making vague grunts through a mouthful of medieval torture implements.

Anyway ...

He was apologising for the lateness of my appointment. Apparently the early morning downpour had caused traffic chaos and his efforts had not been helped by a small incident that occurred upon his arrival at work. Apparently some charming individual had cut him off in traffic, nipped into the practice carpark, and stolen his reserved carpark. Furthermore, said individual was less than polite when the dentist remonstrated with him about his lack of driving etiquette.

However karmic balance was restored five minutes later when our driver friend found out exactly who was to do his root canal!!

Life. Sometimes it can be a real bitch.

Suitable for Kids (apparently)

I was fossicking around through some of my old books today and came across something my parents gave me when I was quite young. It's called "Coles Funny Picture Book" and was a reprint of a childrens' book that was first published back in 1905. It'd be fair to say there was definitely a much different moral imperative back then - well compared to today anyway.

I give you:

A Deed of Horror - By J.W. Lloyd.

The night was dark,
The rain came down.
Amidst the loud
And roaring wind.

There stood a man
With look as though
Some heavy weight
Was on his mind.

With fearful stare
He gazed around;
He starts and from
His lips then come

These fearful words,
With anguish wild,
"The deed, it must,
And shall be done."

With hurried step
He onward glides,
And soon he reached
The cottage door.

Forth from his pocket
Drew a key,
He enters 'midst
The thunder roar.

He gropes his way
Across the room,
For all inside
Was dark and glum,

Again he groans
Those fearful words,
"The deed, it must,
And shall be done."

He strikes a light
Then round the room,
With stealthy step
Does slowly creep.

He reached the bed,
And thereupon
Three little children
Calmly sleep.

He fondly gazes
On their forms,
Then turns away
Quite overcome.

"I willingly
Would yield, but, no!
The deed, it must,
And shall be done."

He then drew forth
A hideous knife,
And roughly roused
The sleeping babes.

Who all shriek loudly
With affright,
Yet neither one
For mercy craves.

He drags the children
Cross the room,
Again those fearful
Words did utter,

He raised the knife
And cut - for each -
A nice thick slice
Of bread and butter.

Somehow, as much as we might like it, I don't think we could quite get away with this today.

Pity.

Since It's Christmas

Political Musings for 2008

After a year of playing poli' chaser I guess it's time to sit back and reflect on the highs and lows, as well as the fuck ups, achievements, and happenings of the year.

George W Bush Award for Dumbest Statement:


Winston Peters for his "no" comment on receiving donations from businessman Owen Glenn.
That, along with all the finagling and hypocrisy over NZ First's party funding, effectively killed Winston's 30 year political career - oh, and his party.


Balls of Steel Moment:

National Leader John Key for refusing to do a post election deal with aforementioned Winston Peters.
It could have blown up in his face had Labour run a better (or even slightly intelligent) election campaign.


Most Misguided Campaign Approach:

Labour wins this hands down.
When you're defending the actions of NZ First the last thing you should do is base your strategy on trust. It's about as intelligent as DIY circumcision.


The "What the fuck is this person doing in Parliament" Trophy:

Lots of competition for this award this year with some perennial favourites in the running. (ie Judith Tizard, Ashraf Choudhary, Colin King, Allan Peachy, Gordon Copeland, Barbara Stewart).
However the winner has to be .... Ashraf Choudhary. In the face of complete non-achievement, invisibility, and general all around lack of ability he's back in Parliament thanks to a relatively high position on Labour's Party list.
(how on earth do they work their selection system? - it sure as hell can't be based on talent or ability).

Unluckiest MP:

Labour MP Damien O'Connor. Just 40 more party votes and he'd have been back in Parliament. He never recovered from the disaster that was his stint as Minister of Corrections and lost his West Coast seat. He also had the misfortune to be the subject of a nasty and false smear campaign run by certain right wing members of the blogosphere - he should have sued them.

Paris Hilton Award for Blatant Self Promotion:

Act Leader Rodney Hide. That godawful yellow jacket. (and other publicity stunts)
Need I say more?


Darwin Award for Sheer Blind Pig Ignorance and Complete Lack of Brain Cells:

The Labour Party staffers who were dumb enough to try and flog 37 bottles of wine from the Press Gallery's end of year Xmas Party.
How can anyone work in Parliament and not know that the security cameras are everywhere and see everything? Congratulations to Mr Aidan Smith and friends - your public service careers are now terminally fucked.

The Keystone Cops Medal for Services to Political Investigations:

No contest here. Soon to be ex-Labour Party President Mike Williams is the hands down winner here.
What on earth possessed him to fly to Australia to trawl through thousands of documents trying to find dirt on National Leader John Key only he will know. Mikey, Mikey, that's what you have party flunkies for. Let them handle the shit storm if the efforts come up empty - at least that way you can have some sort of plausible deniability.

And letting reporters know exactly what you were up to was overwhelmingly dumb too. What exactly did you think might happen if you came up empty? That they might forget about it??


And finally - Politician of the Year:

Nope I'm not giving it to John Key for winning the election. It was his to lose after all. Nor am I going to give it to Helen Clark for the consummate way she handled the election defeat and the leadership succession - there can be no rewards for losers.

Instead I'm giving it to Maori Party MP Hone Harawira.
Why? Well I'll say one thing for Hone, unlike many of his peers you're never in any doubt about where he stands and what his opinions are. personally I find that rather refreshing.

Also anyone who says he wants to kill Trevor Mallard and tells Jim Anderton to go and jump in the lake can't be all bad.

Can he?

We Prefer Our Staff Clothed.

Apparently they do.

It's a bit of a worry that the employees need reminding though.

The Truth Hurts

Visit this guy. His stuff is fantastic.

And, if the whole credit crunch/sub-prime mortgage crisis has you confused then I strongly suggest you visit here. It's international finance made easy.

Rhyme Time

I've come to the conclusion most political stories/scandals can be summed up in terms of childrens' playground rhymes.

For example:

The Winston Peters/NZ First funding scandal.

"Liar, liar. Your pants are on fire."

The tiff on who can we trust between Labour and National. John Key and his Tranzrail shares vs Helen Clark not letting on about her knowledge of Winston Peters' funding arrangements.

"I know you are, you said you are. But what am I?"

Politically Incorrect Joke of the Week

A bloke goes into a bar and says to the bartender "I'd like a Winston Peters".
The bartender's perplexed having never heard of such a drink before.
"Come again? What was it you were wanting?"
"A Winston Peters" says the customer.
"Look" says the bartender, "I'm sorry I have no idea what that is"
To which the customer replies, "A Lion Brown".

[with apologies to the office of the race relations conciliator]

Billboards

It Really Ought to Happen to Someone Else

When you're a bloke you tend to go through much of your life under the impression that you are indestructible. It's about the time you pass 30 that you start to find out this assumption no longer stacks up as much as one would like it to.

For example; any medical issues relating to the lower gastrointestinal tract are supposed to be solely reserved for the drooling, wrinkly geriatrics in the over 50 age group. The whole concept of something going wrong "down there" is, generally, so far removed from any conscious thought that it might as well not exist.

Which means when such a problem does crop up it can come as a rude shock - in every sense of the word.

Take it from me there is nothing quite as disconcerting as having to undergo a medical procedure that involves a TV camera entering one's body via orifices a TV camera was plainly never meant to go. It's even more disturbing when one finds out after the procedure that the sedation was supposed to have been such that recall of the event should have been impossible.

In my case it wasn't.

And you can take it from me seeing and feeling sections of your lower intestine being biopsied is not something you need, or want, to remember.

BTW the nurses are bloody fantastic but all those fantasies about potential romantic entanglements go right out the window.

It's hard enough looking them in the eye after they've helped ram a camera up you nether regions. Hitting on them is simply right out of the question

Now to finish on a lighter note.

Cartoon of the Day.

A Question of Sport.

What happens when a bunch of media and communication types, along with other assorted malcontents, decide to give an account of their sporting efforts?

Here's the answer.

(Disclaimer: the author of this blog may be involved with aforementioned malcontents.)

Oh and if you're feeling a little frustrated with your job/career/immediate supervisor then I heartily recommend that you go here to vent.

Flatting. A Necessary Evil.

Flatting at my age is not something I do out of choice. It's determined by burgeoning interest rates, over inflated Wellington property prices, the realisation I don't want to be landed with a mountain of debt, and the fact what I made from my selling my last home is appreciating quite nicely thank you very much.

However by having made the business decision not to buy when the market is high I've been forced into a flatting lifestyle. Something I hadn't done for some time. I'll admit it has its benefits - cheaper utility bills for one - but it also has its drawbacks.

You see it doesn't matter how careful you are you never really know what a prospective flatmate is like until you've lived with them. Here's a sample of what I've experienced in the past year or so.

1) The Vocal Shagger.
When this girl scores the whole street knows (not just our house). The throes of passion are such that furniture in adjoining rooms is rearranged and plaster has been known to fall from the ceiling. Once the neighbours even came round to inquire as to whether someone had been hurt (though how they mistook orgasm for murder escapes me).

2) The Invisible Woman.
She pays all the bills on time and even does her share of the houseweek. Yet she is never seen. Months can go by with no sight nor sound of her. Once a room check had to be carried out to make sure;
a) she still lived here.
and,
b) She wasn't dead and mouldering in her bed.

3) The Slightly Bemused, Yet Devious, Foreigner.
This person plays upon English being their second language to their advantage. Expect huge delays on getting the bond, conniptions when it comes to getting the rent paid on time, and a complete incomprehension that living in a house necessitates paying a share of the monthly power bill. Trying to explain the situation will be met with a vacant look and the phrase "Que?".

What if Tintin was A Scouse?

Here's how Tintin might have turned out if he was a Manchester United fan.

[this is most definitely not workplace friendly]

The Scottish Gangsta

Have you ever thought about what might happen when rap music mixed with Scottish culture?

Here's the result.



Bizarre - yet kind of catchy.

Mum's the Word

Given all the crap that's floating around about the NZ police at the moment let me share this little yarn which dates back 20 or so years in the small country town where I grew up.

The local police station had been subject to an arson attack (suspicion being it was lit by the cops who were sick of their ancient poky digs) meaning they were operating out of the old courthouse
building down the road.

However, following the annual cannabis plantation raids, they chose to store their confiscated pile of dope plants in the cell one weekend ahead of impending incineration on a Monday morning.

Lo and behold they turn up on Monday and the plants were gone.

Unfortunately for the enterprising thieves the planst had wilted and were prone to shedding their leaves. The jig was up largely to the early risers of the town who'd spotted a group of young men - young men not noted for their civic duty - industriously sweeping the footpaths at 5.30 in the morning.

The police caught our green fingered friends but charges were never laid.

Basically because the youths were quite happy to tell the local paper exactly what they'd done. Something the local Sergeant preferred to avoid.

So the police got their plants back, the lads got off scot-free and everyone was a winner on the day.

[NB I was not one of the young men]

Irony

I wonder if he lived? And if he did, what did he say when he met his doctor?

To Hit Or Not To Hit

To be honest I don't give a toss one way or another regarding the so-called "Anti-Smacking" Bill. I don't have any kids so it doesn't really affect me.

However the debate, which has been spirited, has thrown up some choice moments. My favourite was a conversation I heard at a rally outside Parliament yesterday between a Destiny Church member and a Bill supporter.

Bill Supporter: "So do you kick your dog?"
Church member: "Of course not."
Bill Supporter: "So why would you want to hit your child."

No come back whatsoever.

Oh and while I'm pinching pictures from Scaryduck I feel I should pass this one along. It's a salutary lesson in where not to stand.