I’ve been tinkering with the site a little bit, so there’s not quite so many italics to read, a few more links on the side, and some other minor tweaks.
Blogger has finally fixed the comments section so you can put a name to your messages without having to register. Also, in case you don’t know about it already, the links on the side of the page now include Bugmenot
, a useful site if you land on a website that expects you to register before you can read anything. (According to The Age
, my name is rewt.) If Bugmenot doesn’t work and you have to register, tell them your email address is something at real.com and pretend you’re teaching them a lesson about making bloated, intrusive media players
Some of the tweaks on this page don’t work exactly right all the time, for reasons I have not yet figured out. In all likelihood I will never figure them out. You probably won’t notice the broken bits, but they’re there and will never get fixed. Every time I attempt to improve this thing it will get a little more broken until it disintegrates into an unusable wreckage of lousy code, but hopefully I’ll get bored and stop updating before that happens.
An ambitious Australian film… you don’t really care very much about… any of the characters in the film. As a comedy, it’s a very academic exercise… sterile… keeps you at arm’s length from it… humour which you sort of register but you don’t laugh out loud about. But, you know, you sort of feel that all the ingredients go towards some sort of interesting mix.
AN extortionist who threatened to kill building workers unless they received a $50 million ransom from construction giant Multiplex used a 400-year-old code to communicate with the company. The Vigenere Code – made famous recently by best-selling novel The Da Vinci Code – was invented in 1586 and not broken until 1860.
The extortionist has been communicating with Multiplex via newspaper ads. It appears the extortionist, who threatened to kill crane drivers unless he was paid the ransom by Tuesday, made the company use the code to communicate with him.
The Daily Telegraph
yesterday deciphered the message, which appeared as a public notice in The Weekend Australian on February 19.
If you think most movies are crap
, at least you can thank kooks like this for reminding you there are plenty of worse movies that could be made. Dozens of them
Imagine Julia Roberts, Pres. George W. Bush, Mick Jagger and Olympic Gold Medalist Marion Jones all in the same room. Suddenly the doors to that room are locked behind them, and the famous four are forced to play ingenious and twisted games of survival until only one is left alive.
This is the first screenplay in a planned trilogy. It is told in a non-linear narrative style. A group of kids form a math club which turns into a nightmare of bureaucracy and ends up consuming their lives. It eventually leads to someone’s murder.
“Eyna!” (South African for “Ouch!”) is the comedic tale of a man, a manly-man, a sports-legend, national hero, nay a cricket god, who finds himself… pregnant? Ah, the fickle finger of fate and misguided storks.
Actually, I can imagine that last one as a comeback vehicle for Yahoo Serious.
(OK, this was actually from the “Readers’ Requests” section immediately below, but in the LRB it cd easily count as a personal too.)
Jesus, if it’s not Peter Phelps
it’s Johnny Farnham thrashing about in his tiny, inflatable wading pool of insular celebrity in the misbegotten belief that you can endear yourself to the world by acting like an egomaniacal tool.
I won’t say she is a real dog. I wouldn’t say that about my mother-in-law … and she is.
Charming bloke; fragile sense of self-worth. I suppose we shd be grateful he didn’t call her a dopey, hairy-backed sheila
. Or at least grateful if we weren’t at his gig on the weekend, judging by the playlist (posted after the article above). “Hold On I’m Coming”? “It’s A Long Way To The Top”? Brrrr!
Now to show how topical and up-to-date I am here’s a photie of Michael Moore
or somebody from last year’s Oscar ceremony.
My apologies to anyone who may have read the title and was worried I was going to post something about the Fred Durst sex tape.
“Oh no, the cat’s eaten all the toilet paper.”
is all grown up and working at The Age. Can’t help but notice the publicist’s disturbing definition of the term “doing well.” Perhaps she’s rehearsing for the old “died in hospital, said to be in a satisfactory condition” gag.
I haven’t felt the need to add to the justified sneering
at the contrived and cynical abortion “debate” that just happened to spontaneously pop up at the end of the silly season. But now that whatever point was to be made has been lost in a welter of jokes
about discovering your dad is really the Mad Monk, one burning question has been left unresolved.
What the hell happened to Family First?
These were the guys we were told had Changed Australia Forever by every political columnist staring down a deadline and three more years of status quo
. Isn’t this type of issue supposed to be their bread and butter? So many hacks were telling us a few months ago how influential FF is going to be, and now not one of them can be bothered hunting down one of the happyclappers for a soundbite. According to their website they haven’t said boo
since December. Did the entire party take their Christmas vacation in Aceh? Or is it possible that their good luck last time at the polls was just a teensy bit overstated?
Experimental + interstate music: With or without it, you’d have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, it often takes religion presents…
Ewe bleats harshly after lamb / Grows the seed and blows the mead
Thusday [sic] 24th Feb 8pm – 12am
impromptu lons – hi god people – barrage – meatwave – scraps – grey skulls -night crash – das butcher – rory brown / dennis rappoport – old timey dj -an unknown film – plus guests from queensland
Sweatshop Warehouse, 140 Barkly St (off Sydney Rd.) Brunswick
(near the Brotherhood of St Lawrence)
Donation for entry (money please)
This is in Melbourne, don’t go to your nearest Brunswick
expecting to find it if you are in another city. I don’t write this stuff myself, it’s all dictated by higher beings
I’m plugging this because I’m playing that night as a “guest” (even though I’m not from Queensland – brr!). Expect to find me lurking in the background messing with some bits of balky electronic gear with one hand, nursing a beer with the other and clumsily propositioning girls.
It must be dead because an ageing manchild complains
that even air guitar isn’t as cool as it once was, even in that stanky pen of rockpigdom, Hawthorn:
One conclusion was inescapable: the imaginary guitar is in grave danger of vanishing into thin air. As I see it, it’s part of a long and insidious plot to take rock’s power out of the hands of the common man and woman and towards the whims of corporatised music fashion. My own story is perhaps typical…
Next week: a scorching exposé of how they’ve changed the formula of Fanta. It’s so sickly sweet these days, what they hell were they thinking?
Well, it’s why Rollertrain hates it
, actually. But I’m sure we all agree with her, don’t we? Especially you, auntie.
Answer me this, bitches: If a dick devotee like myself can figure out that all clitori pretty much require the same kind of stimulation that mine does, then why – you eighteen-year-old Californian cretins, with your sexual boundary issues and your ass tattoos and your daddy deficits and your navel rings and those cheap plastic stripper shoes – shouldn’t you?
Oh yeah, and for christ’s sake cut those stupid fingernails.
But as Australians often find when they travel, some Aussie icons – like Vegemite, the Iced VoVo and the battered sav – don’t hold the same sentimental attraction outside these borders. Now it turns out that the fame of John Farnham, also known as “The Voice”, hasn’t even reached as far as Wellington.
Incidentally, if you google for “Helen Clark” and “John Farnham” you get results that are more informative than the New Zealand prime minister’s jaw-dropping revelation that she’s never heard of
Australia’s richest leagues club singer:
… Among the 1000 or so guests was New Zealand Prime Minister, Helen Clark.”. … saw an ad for the “Greatest One Hit Wonders” that featured John Farnham’s “You’re the …
… SOUNDSCAPE PJ Harvey, John Farnham … It must only be a matter of time before Helen Clark and Paul Swain make it compulsory for the Government to install hidden …
… hairy dwarf from The Lord of the Rings), New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark (ditto the … I don’t want to sound like a snob but John Farnham’s Your the Voice? …
… DELTA Goodrem has done it again, surpassing John Farnham’s record for the longest …NEW Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark was frisked for explosives by security …
… Prime Minister Helen Clark says cannabis … John Farnham’s record label is giving thes11.org web site until 5pm Thursday the 24th of August to remove a …
… Most Spectacular Musical Event Described by Prime Minister Helen Clark as an … In-Earmonitoring engineer) and John Henderson (John Farnham’s monitor engineer …
… of red last night didn’t help and being dragged to a John Farnham concert neither. …Does Helen Clark have furry toes to go with her pointy ears and bad teeth? …
… Yeni Zelanda Başbakanı Helen Clark, ulusal radyo kanalına yaptığı açıklamada …Kidman’dan sonra listede şarkıcı John Farnham, AC/DC grubunun eski …
As far as I’m concerned, claiming to like a song ironically is a cop-out. Whether you’re spinning “Rump Shaker” by Wreckx-N-Effect with the intent to smile wryly or with the intent to actually zoom-a-zoom-zoom and a boom boom, it matters not; you’re still spinning “Rump Shaker.”
Amen to that, and exactly why I’m listening to “The Al Wood Orchestra plays the Hits of Rod Stewart” while typing this and grinning like an idiot. You can’t like something ironically any more than like it sarcastically.
Why is it that a snob like me will joyfully listen to crap from the past while violently eschewing crap from the present? Let’s put it this way: the war against shit like Maroon 5 is still claiming lives. However, the war against Bobby Brown was won over a decade ago… in ten or fifteen years, the songs you hate today will probably be hilarious instead of annoying.
You’ll be driving your kid to school in your hoverbubble with the radio tuned to “00’s Retro Breakfast,” and a smile will creep across your face as Hoobastank’s “The Reason” comes up. “I remember this song,” you’ll tell your pasty and unpopular son. “This song used to be crap!” And you’ll love every minute of it.
I just can’t stop thinking about Peter Phelps
. How does he do it? It must be his extreme versatility that dazzles me. One day he’s running for the Senate
, and the next he’s soliciting public humiliation for being a self-confessed lardarse on 3rd-rate TV filler.
It reminds me of Ita Buttrose: one day she’s named in all seriousness as a special advisor to the would-be Prime Minister John Hewson, and the next she’s happily cuddling bog rolls in TV ads. I would also add Gough Whitlam spruiking pasta sauce, but so many decades of being swaddled in sycophancy have extinguished his desire for credibility.