fodder for the masses

Friday, December 28, 2007

Benazir gets it

Benazir Bhutto, who at one time had my vote for best looking head of State, is dead. Assassinated in her beloved Pakistan. All hell will now break lose. It's good to see that both India and Pakistan have nuclear arsenals—makes me feel warm all over. Expect a blast in your neighbourhood anytime soon.

Parents, estranged, are fighting over the right to unplug their daughter, the quicker to begin a lawsuit against the hospital. So much for playing with her brain. You turned it off.

A tiger managed to get out and maul a bystander to death, and carve up another 2 as well. It was a big day for tiger rights. Later news opines that the tiger may have been goaded. How cool would it be to be known as 'the guy who got eaten by the tiger'? You'd have to inscribe it on the headstone wouldn't you—people looking through the tombstones are going to have to be so impressed, I know I would be.

A circus elephant apparently managed to fall on a handler and kill him, although there seems to be some dispute over wether he died of a heart attack before of after (the guy, not the elephant). Dead, however, is still dead. You'd think the elephant would remember if he sat on someone though—wouldn't he? So, no ones knows; did he sit on a live body or a dead body seems to be the only question.

I decide that having a realtors licence might be a good idea as the news breaks that US housing is in a ever increasing slump for the 10th month in a row.

I finally discover what the icon of an open jar with numbers on it, found on most products, but more importantly appearing on my shampoos bottles (yes, Mildred, it's true, hair or not I still use shampoo) is. Shelf life after opening. I seriously have been trying to find the meaning of that. Now I know. It's the European symbol if you're wondering.
Thanks to Bush's disastrous foreign policy, the next president will inherit a nation whose power and prestige have been severely eroded.
LA Times Editorial

Six members of a family are shot to death by a daughter and her lover. Now, that's spectacular really isn't it? Shot the lot of them. Amazing stuff. I do love a good drop of madness.

An ex copper is fingered for the disappearance of his third wife. No one can find her. But, where is the blue barrel? Where is the body?

Even more blunders by the CIA are uncovered, painting the organisation as a seriously failed institution that should have been thrown out years ago. It appears they won't go.

George W Bush, failed politico, allows a budget bill worth $550 billion, just so long as there's plenty left for the Iraq 'situation'. Calls for Bush's execution go unheeded.

As I write a 15 year old Latino boy is gunned down in Hollywood. Life goes on.

A Long Island man was freed, 17 years after being possibly wrongly convicted of murdering his parents. Large slice of life missing there. Suitable lawyers are being employed.

The space shuttle fuel gauge is buggered and they don't seem to be able to fix it. Remember to shut the door before you launch.

If I could just remember the reason for this post...

Fact is, there is really a lot of weird shit going on, and it doesn't stop for Christmas. We're going to have to take Christmas back. It's broken.

But, it's raining, and we're in a drought.



Thursday, December 27, 2007

Christmas by the numbers

Nothing like it. Christmas I mean. Nothing like it at all.

This year we had the coolest Christmas for 400 years or something - maybe not 400 years but a lot of years. Rain has been hanging around, clouds scudding across the sky visible from the window here.

Took the bike out for a ride on Christmas Eve, a few kilometres to keep me going; several of them in my bare feet pushing the bike—managed a clean puncture from broken glass on lap one. Nice to see that the population still has no reserves about breaking glass all over the road. Possibly the very same people who complain about liquids packed in plastic.

Walking home in bare feet, a requirement because my shoes are complete with cleats and make walking a rather comical effort, gives me a chance to view the scenery I ride so fast past normally.  Great.

Repairs complete. Bike ready. Next two laps and I'm looking at a very slow puncture again. More glass perhaps. Manage to get the thing home, a better choice that walking it.

Another repair and it is warning enough—Christmas Eve needs to be removed from the riding calendar.

Christmas Day, and as they go it did. Slow, deliberate, and sleepy. It's not the turkey, we didn't have any, in fact we never had a lunch at all. Possibly it's just a reaction around this time of the year. Obscure.

Always on the lookout for a good natural disaster on or around Christmas, the news channels were almost disappointed; saviour arrives in the form of a mud slide in Java, good stuff to open the otherwise bland news.

Boxing Day. Yvonne has money and militancy—she's "goin' shopping"—a challenge it more sounds like, but to who we will never know.

I risk another tour on the bike and manage 50 klms toward an undefined goal. No flats, no running over the bird life around the lake. Everyone happy.

Conditions are static. Cloudy. Some wind. Some rain.

This is the day after Boxing Day. I don't know if it has a name, well, in this case it would be handy if it was called Friday because that's what it is. I am seldom as aware of what day it is. I made the effort for you.

We are told there is a suspicious low off the coast which will bring gale force winds and torrential rain. So far we've had a lot of wind and sporadic rain. Too much wind for a kite buggy day; too much rain for a bike riding day.  Not enough of either to make you want to curl up in a chair with a copy of Dostoevsky's 'Notes From the Underground' - snapped up by Yvonne during her shopping epic.

You see, The Master and Margarita is finished. Really. I held on as long as I could but I had to give in and finish it. I was hoping it might never come to an end, but it did, as they do. It was almost sad to turn the last page, but I finished it as a Bulgakov fan. A committed fan.

The Master and Margarita is a delicious book, a delicious read, a satire, an amazing collection of believable characters, including poor old Satan himself, and a black cat, naturally, and Margarita reeeks of sensuality.

Who would be unable to read on a day with weather like this?  

So, there it was. The Christmas week. With no ad breaks.



Wednesday, December 19, 2007

$7.5 million and we're happy..

.. and other important discoveries

Panoramics hold sway over me at present. As do the tribulations of Roger Lee Dillon, Nicole Boyd, the perpetrators of a $7.5 million heist that went very well, for a very short time..
The two things are not connected in any way at all.. just in case you thought we were heading somewhere—we're not.

Fractured thinking processes lead to the idea that more time and effort needs to be put into stop motion animation - time lapse sequences and, mentioned above, panoramic's.

Is this a New Years resolution list? Nope. Just happened to be thinking along those lines. The bonus is Lee Dillon and Nicole Boyd getting on in there and having a go. We don't treat people who have a go at something as well as we should. I don't see anyone congratulating these people—why don't I see someone telling them they did good? They stuffed it up for sure, but at least they had a go.

Wall Street banks so far have reported more than $40 billion of losses as a result of the crisis in the mortgage market. More to follow. We have to accept it. I'm really not sure why. If it involved any of my money I would be sitting astride the bank managers desk with a Glock stuck in his mouth, just indicating my reluctance to accept the idea.

The total cost of the mistakes made by people who are paid not to make mistakes will be about $200 billion or more.

You might be able to see why I don't think that a couple getting away with $7.5 million would matter too much to anyone. Not when your local bank can lose $40 billion and just declare it a write down.

It all has nothing to do with HDR imaging.. nothing at all. And I'm not confident that it ever will.
Sort of like the video call facility on my beloved Nokia N73. Has nothing to do with any of this but I figured I might as well let you know that the video calling thing hasn't, so far, proved to be easy, or universal. Seems many people don't have a video phone. Even if they did I wouldn't answer them. I have to place the calls on my phone. I don't answer incoming—never do know just who that might be after all.

The fact is, the Canon, the cheap little PowerShot A520, does do sequential shots. I am pleased with that. I just can't seem to remember why I wanted it to. Had something to do with stop motion perhaps? I've been impressed with several stop motion efforts that have turned up in recent months. Impressed is a big word for me, anyone will tell you that - anyone.

And, I digressed there, not that you would notice. What I was thinking of was a combination of stop motion and panoramic, right?
Allow this video to explain:


Just kinda caught my eye as I was zooming on by.

And, lets not forget this beauty, an award winner as well:


Enough to have me stalking the streets, Canon in hand.

Bagged and tagged under:      



the wheels are off

things are loose
and then the year got too close to the end

Set piece; when the year gets to the month of December things get silly.

People do odd things. Odder than usual. Usual being defined as the months of the year not in December. I got it worked out. December will always be after November, 12 after 11. Took me quite a time. 53 years.

As I said, people do odd things. They make huge lists. Of anything. Often about food. And alcohol.  They don't only do that of course, other wise nothing would ever get done in December. You will have observed not a lot does get done in December.

December is indicated, via television transmissions, in the form of jolly commercials. Ya have to buy a lot in December.

I run slow. We know. But having figured out the certainty of the oddness  that will occur in the month of December I am now far better equipped to absorb this phenomena. My thing with December is to try not to explain to too many people that they really don't have to space out too much, just take it in their stride.

Anything, everything, must have the statement 'in time for Christmas', embedded somewhere in every sentence uttered during the month of December. 'In time for Christmas'. A powerful additive to any conversation. Required utterance in some societies.

Hell of a thing, this 'December / Christmas' trip.

I did actually have something else to tell ya, something had happened... damn, December got to me. It always does that.

..something was happening, had happened, arrived, went, purchased.. I'm thinking it could be the latest bike seat I have - damn fine thing it is.. but I just don't know. Video - I'm been remiss - is that where I was, video kind of hard to get done when the entire house is always inhabited..


Bagged and tagged under:
  
  



Thursday, December 06, 2007

December really



Our hero, more bland than ever, has a day off. The buggy attempts a coup. Things are not as they seem.
Formats available: Flash Video (.flv)



Wednesday, December 05, 2007

never trust a teddy bear

ragheads unite 

Sudan is a shithole - correct?
 

Sudan is a shithole.
Sudanese would rather fight each other than get an education.
So much so that no one in the place has a brain. No one.
Sudanese were / are willing to let anyone else educate their children.
English school teachers, any teachers, are imported because the place has no ability to offer an education.  
British school teacher Gillian Gibbons was one of the brave souls who thought she could make a difference.

She did. She was marked as dead meat when it was discovered that she had a small role in the naming of a teddy bear. Innocently she allowed a child to name it Mohamed.

Remember, a child named it.

Why doesn't the child get lashings and imprisonment?

After a long drawn out string of bullshit, the head layabout of Sudan allowed the teacher to be removed back the UK .

People gathered outside the President's residence demanding she be put to death.

What I want to know is, how come these people who seem to be a burden on charities world wide, manage to find the time to gather anywhere? Shouldn't they be out somewhere gathering something - perhaps food? Scratching about in the dust for a film crew to capture. It's obviously too much to think they would manage an education.

Sudan, the rectum of the planet, welcomes you and looks forward to arresting you for something you may have never done.

Stuffed bears, of any persuasion, are advised to steer clear of Sudan. Most Sudanese have a degree in genocide. They certainly don't have a degree in being sensible.

Leave then to their Darfur crisis, they love it.