Regular readers of this blog (all two of you) might have noticed how ticked off I get when some gumby reporter jumbles up his or her facts when it comes to reporting on things military.
When I worked for a large corporation, I also used to get ticked off when I found the paper/radio/TV news to be full of basic mistakes about what we did.
It appears to me that the news media in particular is full of people that are just unable to write accurately or truthfully about what they see any more. I despair that those that are supposedly bringing us news really don't have a fucking clue.
I am not alone. Check this out.
I also wish I was that creative and dedicated. Make sure you watch the bloopers at the end.
Sunday, 16 September 2007
Saturday, 15 September 2007
Some really interesting art work
I had a look at this site because the Leichhardt Council commissioned her to do a bit of street art.
My suspicions were immediately raised - anything that those deep green morons at Leichhardt do is automatically suspect.
I was therefore pleasantly surprised to see how good the artwork is. I'd love to have something like this at home.
My suspicions were immediately raised - anything that those deep green morons at Leichhardt do is automatically suspect.
I was therefore pleasantly surprised to see how good the artwork is. I'd love to have something like this at home.
Flemington Markets
I have written about Flemington Markets a few times in the past, but never taken my camera until now. It's a bit of a madhouse, and these photos don't really do it justice.
There are two places two park - at street level, where it is a fight to find space for a scooter, or upstairs where it's almost always empty. Most of the punters don't seem to realise that they can park upstairs in the parking station, but they might not want to park up here because it involves lugging groceries up several flights of stairs.
This is what the parking is like for the goons that decide to stick to ground level. If you can extract your car from here without it being dented or extensively scratched, you are doing well. Most of the cars look like they have had a narrow escape with a crusher at a wreckers yard. I stay well away from them. Then again, the drivers also look like they hold an Albanian drivers license, or collected their license from a packet of breakfast noodles.
The markets are held in the big shed in the background there. Getting there involves crossing a road that is normally thick with trucks, goonhead drivers and forklifts, with the forklifts generally going backwards at full speed.
A slightly better view of the shed, with a forklift zooming around.
Here's the outside of the shed. There usually seems to be a bloke selling eggs and watermelons at this en, and all the Asian greens are to be bought along the wall. Walking along here is a bit like wandering through Hong Kong.
Many people rent a shopping trolley, which is a good business in its own right. You pay $10 for a trolley, and get $7 back when you return it. I wish our local supermarket had a trolley deposit like that - there were 3 trolleys outside when I went to the markets this morning.
The trolleys are enormous - much bigger than your average Woolies trolley. Unfortunately, most of the people who rent them are no better at pushing a trolley than they are at driving a car. I usually spend half my time keeping clear of them in order to save my ankles. The best bet is to get there by 7.30am, as after that, it gets really crowded with trolleys, and you can spend half your shopping time stuck in trolley jams.
Other regulars take "grannie" shopping baskets, which is a great idea. I must get one some day.
This is one of my favourite stalls, although I rarely shop here. It's the spcie stall - each of those buckets holds a different spice. The smell is something else.I screwed up the photo though.
This is my spud man. He is selling kipfler spuds for $3.50 a kilo. They are $11 in my local supermarket. His selection is three times greater than our supermarket, and his prices are lower. Why would you go anywhere else?
The photo above illustrates the main reason why I go - the range and selection of produce. Most of the time, you can actually buy a wider range of fruit and vegetables in your local supermarket, but that's because half of them have been sitting in cool rooms for six months. The stuff at the markets is all fresh. When I say "range", I mean the range within a particular fruit or vegetable. I can buy 9 types of spuds from the spud guy. Most supermarkets offer two, and who knows when they were dug up.
The end result is that our spud plate in the pantry looks something like this:
My main problem is that I keep forgetting which type of spud is good for what.
Check out these two apples. The one on the left came from our supermarket, and cost $7 a kilo. The one on the right cost $1.60 a kilo from the markets. Both are the same variety.
The apple from the markets is slightly undersize, but it is actually the perfect size for Junior's lunchbox. A standard sized apple from the supermarket is just too bloody big.
Some of the market apples also have blemishes, but I don't care as I am going to chop them up to either make apple sauce to go with some pig, or into an apple pie. Who needs a perfect skin when you're going to cook the blasted things?
The humble tomato at the moment costs a packet. Those in the bowl cost me up to $12 a kilo at the supermarket and they taste like shit. Even though they are bright red, they are devoid of flavour. They've kept their shape, but that's all they are good for.
The ones at the bottom cost me $5.something at the markets, and they smell and taste so much better.
Here is the clincher - pine nuts. I use a lot of them. The bag on the left cost $25 a kilo - I bought 250gm worth.
The packet on the right holds 40gms, and cost over half what I paid in total for 250gm at the markets. Just shows what putting them in a nice bag and hanging them in a supermarket aisle can do for value-add.
There are two places two park - at street level, where it is a fight to find space for a scooter, or upstairs where it's almost always empty. Most of the punters don't seem to realise that they can park upstairs in the parking station, but they might not want to park up here because it involves lugging groceries up several flights of stairs.
This is what the parking is like for the goons that decide to stick to ground level. If you can extract your car from here without it being dented or extensively scratched, you are doing well. Most of the cars look like they have had a narrow escape with a crusher at a wreckers yard. I stay well away from them. Then again, the drivers also look like they hold an Albanian drivers license, or collected their license from a packet of breakfast noodles.
The markets are held in the big shed in the background there. Getting there involves crossing a road that is normally thick with trucks, goonhead drivers and forklifts, with the forklifts generally going backwards at full speed.
A slightly better view of the shed, with a forklift zooming around.
Here's the outside of the shed. There usually seems to be a bloke selling eggs and watermelons at this en, and all the Asian greens are to be bought along the wall. Walking along here is a bit like wandering through Hong Kong.
Many people rent a shopping trolley, which is a good business in its own right. You pay $10 for a trolley, and get $7 back when you return it. I wish our local supermarket had a trolley deposit like that - there were 3 trolleys outside when I went to the markets this morning.
The trolleys are enormous - much bigger than your average Woolies trolley. Unfortunately, most of the people who rent them are no better at pushing a trolley than they are at driving a car. I usually spend half my time keeping clear of them in order to save my ankles. The best bet is to get there by 7.30am, as after that, it gets really crowded with trolleys, and you can spend half your shopping time stuck in trolley jams.
Other regulars take "grannie" shopping baskets, which is a great idea. I must get one some day.
This is one of my favourite stalls, although I rarely shop here. It's the spcie stall - each of those buckets holds a different spice. The smell is something else.I screwed up the photo though.
This is my spud man. He is selling kipfler spuds for $3.50 a kilo. They are $11 in my local supermarket. His selection is three times greater than our supermarket, and his prices are lower. Why would you go anywhere else?
The photo above illustrates the main reason why I go - the range and selection of produce. Most of the time, you can actually buy a wider range of fruit and vegetables in your local supermarket, but that's because half of them have been sitting in cool rooms for six months. The stuff at the markets is all fresh. When I say "range", I mean the range within a particular fruit or vegetable. I can buy 9 types of spuds from the spud guy. Most supermarkets offer two, and who knows when they were dug up.
The end result is that our spud plate in the pantry looks something like this:
My main problem is that I keep forgetting which type of spud is good for what.
Check out these two apples. The one on the left came from our supermarket, and cost $7 a kilo. The one on the right cost $1.60 a kilo from the markets. Both are the same variety.
The apple from the markets is slightly undersize, but it is actually the perfect size for Junior's lunchbox. A standard sized apple from the supermarket is just too bloody big.
Some of the market apples also have blemishes, but I don't care as I am going to chop them up to either make apple sauce to go with some pig, or into an apple pie. Who needs a perfect skin when you're going to cook the blasted things?
The humble tomato at the moment costs a packet. Those in the bowl cost me up to $12 a kilo at the supermarket and they taste like shit. Even though they are bright red, they are devoid of flavour. They've kept their shape, but that's all they are good for.
The ones at the bottom cost me $5.something at the markets, and they smell and taste so much better.
Here is the clincher - pine nuts. I use a lot of them. The bag on the left cost $25 a kilo - I bought 250gm worth.
The packet on the right holds 40gms, and cost over half what I paid in total for 250gm at the markets. Just shows what putting them in a nice bag and hanging them in a supermarket aisle can do for value-add.
Purple poo
I am waiting for the purple poo.
There are two things that mess with your innards - asparagus and beetroot. I don't mean the odd slice of that anaemic rubbish that comes of a tin and occasionally appears in a burger. I am talking about the real stuff that you buy with roots and leaves still attached, and goes into the oven for roasting for an hour and a half.
I love the proper stuff as a warm salad, or with pumpkin. There is a limit to how much you can eat - I think two small bulbs per person is enough, and they need to be accompanied by something like walnuts or goats cheese.
If you've never had "real" beetroot, then you've never experienced the day-after shocker: the purple poo. I take it that the natural colouring agent in beetroot is indigestible, so it goes straight through the gut unaltered and comes out as poo. Bright purple poo.
I've had people ring me a day or two after a dinner party where I have served it saying, "I am going to the doctor today - the oddest thing has happened", and I have to explain purple poo to them. They usually think they have colon cancer, so I now know to warn people in advance when serving it - it's the least I can do to lessen the shock.
Really, the stuff should only be sold in a supermarket with a warning sticker.
There are two things that mess with your innards - asparagus and beetroot. I don't mean the odd slice of that anaemic rubbish that comes of a tin and occasionally appears in a burger. I am talking about the real stuff that you buy with roots and leaves still attached, and goes into the oven for roasting for an hour and a half.
I love the proper stuff as a warm salad, or with pumpkin. There is a limit to how much you can eat - I think two small bulbs per person is enough, and they need to be accompanied by something like walnuts or goats cheese.
If you've never had "real" beetroot, then you've never experienced the day-after shocker: the purple poo. I take it that the natural colouring agent in beetroot is indigestible, so it goes straight through the gut unaltered and comes out as poo. Bright purple poo.
I've had people ring me a day or two after a dinner party where I have served it saying, "I am going to the doctor today - the oddest thing has happened", and I have to explain purple poo to them. They usually think they have colon cancer, so I now know to warn people in advance when serving it - it's the least I can do to lessen the shock.
Really, the stuff should only be sold in a supermarket with a warning sticker.
Friday, 14 September 2007
MOAB
I have a very simple BBQ - it is a 2 burner model, and the prime requirement when I bought it was that it had to be small enough to fit on the balconey of the apartment that I lived in at the time.
Only one burner works at the moment, so I am down to one hot plate.
Funnily enough, it is more than enough for our humble BBQ-ing needs. I did 9 chops on it tonight, and they all fitted on ok without having to be jostled around to make space. It was cheap, it's comparatively light, and it doesn't take up a lot of space.
Compare that with the MOAB (Mother of All BBQ's) that I saw today in a BBQ shop.
It was entirely made of marine grade stainless steel (whatever that is).
It had six burners and some sort of infra-red warming thing.
It had a granite benchtop attached that provided more benchspace than we have in our kitchen.
There was a sink attached to the left.
There was a glass fronted bar fridge under the counter on the right.
It had multiple drawers for holding.... I don't know what.
All up, it was $17,990.
Yes, nearly 18 thousand bucks for a BBQ. And that didn't include shipping and installation.
Tell me we haven't gotten richer over the last decade. Come on, just try and tell me that we're all wretchedly poor and badly off.
Beats me if they've sold any though.
There was one nice touch in this BBQ shop - all the "mens stuff" like BBQ's and tongs and things were on one side of the store, and the other side was dedicated to nice looking outdoor furniture. I saw several men browsing amongst the iron whilst their significant others sat on the outdoor lounges and had a chat. I reckon they must upsell a lot, going from just one BBQ to a BBQ with a new outdoor setting.
Very smart.
Only one burner works at the moment, so I am down to one hot plate.
Funnily enough, it is more than enough for our humble BBQ-ing needs. I did 9 chops on it tonight, and they all fitted on ok without having to be jostled around to make space. It was cheap, it's comparatively light, and it doesn't take up a lot of space.
Compare that with the MOAB (Mother of All BBQ's) that I saw today in a BBQ shop.
It was entirely made of marine grade stainless steel (whatever that is).
It had six burners and some sort of infra-red warming thing.
It had a granite benchtop attached that provided more benchspace than we have in our kitchen.
There was a sink attached to the left.
There was a glass fronted bar fridge under the counter on the right.
It had multiple drawers for holding.... I don't know what.
All up, it was $17,990.
Yes, nearly 18 thousand bucks for a BBQ. And that didn't include shipping and installation.
Tell me we haven't gotten richer over the last decade. Come on, just try and tell me that we're all wretchedly poor and badly off.
Beats me if they've sold any though.
There was one nice touch in this BBQ shop - all the "mens stuff" like BBQ's and tongs and things were on one side of the store, and the other side was dedicated to nice looking outdoor furniture. I saw several men browsing amongst the iron whilst their significant others sat on the outdoor lounges and had a chat. I reckon they must upsell a lot, going from just one BBQ to a BBQ with a new outdoor setting.
Very smart.
A mixed week on the bike
This was lining up to be a good week in the saddle. I did three good rides which totalled about 135km, and was all set to do another of at least 50km when I started to come down with yet another cold. Last time this happened, I risked it and went for a ride. That totally wrecked me, and I was in bed for a week. This time, I hung up the bright bike shirts and settled down to rest and see the cold through.
I'm philosophical about it all, but I was looking forward to a week of 200km+. Yes, it's draining, and I fall asleep on the couch at 4pm, and my legs feel like they have been run over by a steam roller, but it still feels good.
The saving grace is that the rides I have been doing are very flat, and I haven't been pushing it too hard. There is nary a hill of any note between here and Homebush, and the ride down to the airport (or Botany Bay) follows a canal, and canals are reknowned for being built on very flat land.
I suppose it's like riding across Holland.
I am in no hurry to go and tackle hills. I know I am supposed to, since it builds strength and fitness, but why beat the hell out of yourself when you don't really need to? It's not like I am training for the Tour de France.
It's a good thing I didn't go out today. We had a very nasty little squall come through - torrential rain and howling winds for about 10 minutes - and it was enough to bring down a power line near us. The Fire Brigade got called out as a line came down and landed on a parked car. The Police blocked the street off and the fire guys did their thing.
In the end, I think it was a Foxtel cable rather than a power cable - but I wouldn't be stupid enough to grab it to see which one it was.
I'm philosophical about it all, but I was looking forward to a week of 200km+. Yes, it's draining, and I fall asleep on the couch at 4pm, and my legs feel like they have been run over by a steam roller, but it still feels good.
The saving grace is that the rides I have been doing are very flat, and I haven't been pushing it too hard. There is nary a hill of any note between here and Homebush, and the ride down to the airport (or Botany Bay) follows a canal, and canals are reknowned for being built on very flat land.
I suppose it's like riding across Holland.
I am in no hurry to go and tackle hills. I know I am supposed to, since it builds strength and fitness, but why beat the hell out of yourself when you don't really need to? It's not like I am training for the Tour de France.
It's a good thing I didn't go out today. We had a very nasty little squall come through - torrential rain and howling winds for about 10 minutes - and it was enough to bring down a power line near us. The Fire Brigade got called out as a line came down and landed on a parked car. The Police blocked the street off and the fire guys did their thing.
In the end, I think it was a Foxtel cable rather than a power cable - but I wouldn't be stupid enough to grab it to see which one it was.
Space saving tyres
Most reviews of new cars seem to gloss over the fact that they feature a space saving tyre. The reasoning is that tyres don't fail these days, so most people can happily drive for years without ever getting a flat.
I have not seen a tyre fail catastrophically since about 1975. Mum was driving, and the sidewall blew out at about 110 and I think she had a fun time keeping the car on the road. There was rubber smeared all the way down the side of the car (it was a front tyre that went). She was too shaken to change it, and I was too young. I actually have no idea how we got it changed.
In the last 5 years, I have had to change three tyres, all thanks to running over nails. I had one yesterday, and I got it in a shopping centre car park of all places. Thankfully, I was there early, so all I had to do when I got back to the car and spotted the flat was to reverse into a wheelchair spot (which is wider than the usual car space) and changed it there.
It's hard to tell in this photo, but the tyre has emptied out enough for the rim to be resting on the concrete.
I hate the stupid little jack and lug wrench that Landrover issue as standard kit. You'd think that for a vehicle that is supposed to be able to go off road, they'd fit a better jack (something that could lift more than six inches off a flat surface) and a better wrench. I had to do a bit of jumping up and down on this one to get the nuts off.
When I got the tyre repaired, the bloke that refitted the tyre had a wrench about a metre long. They don't buggerise around.
I am so glad I have not had to rely on space saving spares.
That said, I spotted this car while I was out and about getting flat tyres. Whitewalls - what a classic. I could have had several other parking spots in this street, but I pulled up and waited for this guy to go so I could take a couple of photos of his car.
I look at the car above, which is just so nice, and then this yellow thing below, and wonder what sort of jerk would fork out good money for such a bucket of snot?
I have not seen a tyre fail catastrophically since about 1975. Mum was driving, and the sidewall blew out at about 110 and I think she had a fun time keeping the car on the road. There was rubber smeared all the way down the side of the car (it was a front tyre that went). She was too shaken to change it, and I was too young. I actually have no idea how we got it changed.
In the last 5 years, I have had to change three tyres, all thanks to running over nails. I had one yesterday, and I got it in a shopping centre car park of all places. Thankfully, I was there early, so all I had to do when I got back to the car and spotted the flat was to reverse into a wheelchair spot (which is wider than the usual car space) and changed it there.
It's hard to tell in this photo, but the tyre has emptied out enough for the rim to be resting on the concrete.
I hate the stupid little jack and lug wrench that Landrover issue as standard kit. You'd think that for a vehicle that is supposed to be able to go off road, they'd fit a better jack (something that could lift more than six inches off a flat surface) and a better wrench. I had to do a bit of jumping up and down on this one to get the nuts off.
When I got the tyre repaired, the bloke that refitted the tyre had a wrench about a metre long. They don't buggerise around.
I am so glad I have not had to rely on space saving spares.
That said, I spotted this car while I was out and about getting flat tyres. Whitewalls - what a classic. I could have had several other parking spots in this street, but I pulled up and waited for this guy to go so I could take a couple of photos of his car.
I look at the car above, which is just so nice, and then this yellow thing below, and wonder what sort of jerk would fork out good money for such a bucket of snot?
Stupid advertising
I don't listen to Nova FM much, but I was stuck with it the other day, and heard a promotion that went something like this:
"We play 50% less ads than any other station, so we can play 50% more music."
Sounds like someone can't add up, or has a problem with percentages. If you crunch the numbers, the only way this works is if another radio station plays 30 minutes of ads per hour and 30 minutes of music.
I know of no such station.
Assuming your average station plays 40 minutes of music and 20 minutes of ads, if you play only 50% as many ads as them, then you only play 10 minutes per hour.
However, if you claim to play 50% more music, then you are playing an additional 20 minutes per hour. If you add that up, you end up with an hour that is 70 minutes long.
I'm submitting a complaint.
"We play 50% less ads than any other station, so we can play 50% more music."
Sounds like someone can't add up, or has a problem with percentages. If you crunch the numbers, the only way this works is if another radio station plays 30 minutes of ads per hour and 30 minutes of music.
I know of no such station.
Assuming your average station plays 40 minutes of music and 20 minutes of ads, if you play only 50% as many ads as them, then you only play 10 minutes per hour.
However, if you claim to play 50% more music, then you are playing an additional 20 minutes per hour. If you add that up, you end up with an hour that is 70 minutes long.
I'm submitting a complaint.
Are students really that poor?
I live in a reasonably affluent area. The median price of houses around here is in the vicinity of $800,000, and just down the road, it is over the million mark. You don't see many banged up old cars, or people that look like they are down to their last ten cents (although if interest rates keep going up, I suspect I might see a few BMW drives who are down to their last dollar after the bank has cleaned them out).
That said, it's hard to get good cheese around here. The selection is good, but not great. To get outstanding French cheese that costs $70 a kilo and upwards, you need to go to a shopping centre where there are a lot of affluent people.
The closest one for me that meets that criteria is Broadway, which is right next door to two universities. Funny how a population of "dirt poor" students can support a cheese counter that is longer than my lounge room.
Next time you hear students whining about how poor they are, just think of the Pont l'Eveque. The last time I bought some, it was retailing for around $100 a kilo.
That said, it's hard to get good cheese around here. The selection is good, but not great. To get outstanding French cheese that costs $70 a kilo and upwards, you need to go to a shopping centre where there are a lot of affluent people.
The closest one for me that meets that criteria is Broadway, which is right next door to two universities. Funny how a population of "dirt poor" students can support a cheese counter that is longer than my lounge room.
Next time you hear students whining about how poor they are, just think of the Pont l'Eveque. The last time I bought some, it was retailing for around $100 a kilo.
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
Refueling
I did not drink 0.18 litres of petrol today.
According to Wikipedia, cycling consumes the equivalent of 0.36 litres of petrol per 100km.
However, I like this disclaimer:
It should be noted, however, that the actual fuel efficiency of human power is in dispute. Recent articles have pointed out that "human power" should include the cost of food production, which can be quite high for energy-intensive diets. [18]. The claims by Chris Goodall suggest that walking consumes about the same amount of fuel as driving in some societies, thus the posted human-power efficiencies may be inflated by up to an order of magnitude.
They might have a point.
According to Wikipedia, cycling consumes the equivalent of 0.36 litres of petrol per 100km.
However, I like this disclaimer:
It should be noted, however, that the actual fuel efficiency of human power is in dispute. Recent articles have pointed out that "human power" should include the cost of food production, which can be quite high for energy-intensive diets. [18]. The claims by Chris Goodall suggest that walking consumes about the same amount of fuel as driving in some societies, thus the posted human-power efficiencies may be inflated by up to an order of magnitude.
They might have a point.
Does this path go to Botany Bay?
I must have been hit with some sort of idiot stick recently because I cycled down to Tempe and back again today. A good 50km round trip, done in just over 2 hours.
I managed to stay un-lost for most of the trip, although there was one section where I was really starting to wonder where I was. Then I spotted a fence that was covered in familiar looking graffiti, and I knew I was on the right track. That is the first time that I have found stupid looking spray painted stuff to be vaguely useful.
The highlight of the trip was finding a handmade chocolate shop called Adora. I'm glad I picked up a business card from them because I didn't even know which suburb I was in. They are at 10 Homer St, Earlwood. I'm happy to give them a big plug as they were really, really good.
The shop is quite small - it would be squishy if more than 6 people piled in to check out what's under the counter. They have 3 or 4 small tables outside on the footpath, and that's it.
I had no idea they existed. I had ridden to Tempe (which meant going straight past them without noticing the shop) and was on my return journey when I looked across the road and spotted two cyclists having a coffee outside a shop. I then looked at the shop awning and saw the words "handmade chocolates".
That's when I did a rapid U-turn, parked my bike with the other two and went in to order a coffee and select some chocolates.
The coffee is a bit more expensive than usual ($3.80 for a cup), but it comes with a chocolate of your choice. I ordered two more, and the bill came to a bit over $6. The only thing stopping me from getting more was the shortage of cash in my wallet.
Their brochure, which doubles as a very nifty business card, lists 41 chocolates. I like the really dark and evil stuff, so I had a chocolate orange slice, a chocolate ganache and an almond cluster. All were delicious. The coffee was excellent. The water in the carafe was cold. The view was ok. The other cyclists were very pleasant to talk to. The waitress was very nice.
It's a pity it's all the way down in Earlwood. I could get used to hanging out at Adora.
I had a chat with the cycling couple for maybe 20 minutes. They were from the Central Coast, and were having a holiday in Sydney, staying at a hotel at Homebush. I think they took a much more liesurely approach to riding than I do - by the looks of things, it had taken them all day to get from Homebush to Tempe and then back to this chocolate shop.
The woman asked all sorts of questions about my shoes, since I wear hard soled racing shoes with cleats sticking out the bottom. They had "old fashioned" pedals with normal sneakers on. She was amazed that I could ride in cleats without tipping over and killing myself. Well, I have gone over sideways once, and have seen other people do it right in front of me, and as I told her, you only ever do it once. Falling sideways off your bike onto concrete usually provides a particularly salutory lesson.
I am absolutely stuffed again. My leg muscles feel bruised. I felt great though on the homeward run - once I was back on the road, there were a few occasions where I really had to jump on the pedals in order to keep up with the traffic, and my legs were just so full of power, I was quite amazed. I just tromped on the pedals, and the bike flew away underneath me. It's a great feeling.
Of course it only lasted for a few hundred metres. Then I was out of breath and shagged.
I managed to stay un-lost for most of the trip, although there was one section where I was really starting to wonder where I was. Then I spotted a fence that was covered in familiar looking graffiti, and I knew I was on the right track. That is the first time that I have found stupid looking spray painted stuff to be vaguely useful.
The highlight of the trip was finding a handmade chocolate shop called Adora. I'm glad I picked up a business card from them because I didn't even know which suburb I was in. They are at 10 Homer St, Earlwood. I'm happy to give them a big plug as they were really, really good.
The shop is quite small - it would be squishy if more than 6 people piled in to check out what's under the counter. They have 3 or 4 small tables outside on the footpath, and that's it.
I had no idea they existed. I had ridden to Tempe (which meant going straight past them without noticing the shop) and was on my return journey when I looked across the road and spotted two cyclists having a coffee outside a shop. I then looked at the shop awning and saw the words "handmade chocolates".
That's when I did a rapid U-turn, parked my bike with the other two and went in to order a coffee and select some chocolates.
The coffee is a bit more expensive than usual ($3.80 for a cup), but it comes with a chocolate of your choice. I ordered two more, and the bill came to a bit over $6. The only thing stopping me from getting more was the shortage of cash in my wallet.
Their brochure, which doubles as a very nifty business card, lists 41 chocolates. I like the really dark and evil stuff, so I had a chocolate orange slice, a chocolate ganache and an almond cluster. All were delicious. The coffee was excellent. The water in the carafe was cold. The view was ok. The other cyclists were very pleasant to talk to. The waitress was very nice.
It's a pity it's all the way down in Earlwood. I could get used to hanging out at Adora.
I had a chat with the cycling couple for maybe 20 minutes. They were from the Central Coast, and were having a holiday in Sydney, staying at a hotel at Homebush. I think they took a much more liesurely approach to riding than I do - by the looks of things, it had taken them all day to get from Homebush to Tempe and then back to this chocolate shop.
The woman asked all sorts of questions about my shoes, since I wear hard soled racing shoes with cleats sticking out the bottom. They had "old fashioned" pedals with normal sneakers on. She was amazed that I could ride in cleats without tipping over and killing myself. Well, I have gone over sideways once, and have seen other people do it right in front of me, and as I told her, you only ever do it once. Falling sideways off your bike onto concrete usually provides a particularly salutory lesson.
I am absolutely stuffed again. My leg muscles feel bruised. I felt great though on the homeward run - once I was back on the road, there were a few occasions where I really had to jump on the pedals in order to keep up with the traffic, and my legs were just so full of power, I was quite amazed. I just tromped on the pedals, and the bike flew away underneath me. It's a great feeling.
Of course it only lasted for a few hundred metres. Then I was out of breath and shagged.
This is getting ridiculous
Anyone that knows of the existence of Starbucks would probably be aware of the massive inconvenience that they have foisted on the coffee drinking public.
"I'd like a latte please."
"Tall, Grande, or Bucket?"
"Huh?"
"Tall, Grande or Bucket. What size do you want".
"A normal one. A regular coffee. Coffee in a cup that normal people drink".
"Ah, you want a tall".
"No, I want a normal sized coffee."
"We call that a tall coffee".
"I call that being a tool".
"Cow, soy, goat, yak or cat?"
"Huh?"
"What type of animal or vegetable do you want you milk to have been produced from?"
"Milk. Normal milk. The kind of stuff you find at the supermarket."
"Ok, Cow."
"Who are you calling a cow?"
"Uh, regular, skim, lite, low fat or semi-skim?"
"Oh for crying out loud - a coffee!"
"I'll take it you want regular."
"I take it then are 10 more stupid questions to answer."
"Do you want any of the following added - caramel, hazelnut, essence of gwarp, or an infusion of organic bat eyelashes?"
"The only thing I am going to add is sugar."
"White, raw, brown, caster or sweet'n'low?"
"Just give me the bloody coffee before someone gets hurt."
Which is why I avoid Starbucks like the plague. And any other stupid coffee selling establishment that tries to copy its business model.
I have now found a bread shop at Broadway to avoid. I had to deal with this yesterday:
"That loaf of bread on the top shelf please."
"White, brown or nut?
"White".
"Seeds or no seeds?"
"Seeds."
"Carroway, sesame or flocker?"
"Uh, sesame."
"Sliced or unsliced?"
"Unsliced."
"Paper bag or plastic bag?"
"Paper."
"Carry bag?"
"Yes please."
Oh for crying out loud! I just want the bloody load on the top shelf, as it is, stuffed into a bag! How hard can it be to sell a loaf of bread? Are these people suffering from a lack of conversation, and feel that they have to turn every sales opportunity into a 10 minute discourse?
With luck, they will spend all their time talking, no time selling and soon be out of business. Capitalism is our only hope.
"I'd like a latte please."
"Tall, Grande, or Bucket?"
"Huh?"
"Tall, Grande or Bucket. What size do you want".
"A normal one. A regular coffee. Coffee in a cup that normal people drink".
"Ah, you want a tall".
"No, I want a normal sized coffee."
"We call that a tall coffee".
"I call that being a tool".
"Cow, soy, goat, yak or cat?"
"Huh?"
"What type of animal or vegetable do you want you milk to have been produced from?"
"Milk. Normal milk. The kind of stuff you find at the supermarket."
"Ok, Cow."
"Who are you calling a cow?"
"Uh, regular, skim, lite, low fat or semi-skim?"
"Oh for crying out loud - a coffee!"
"I'll take it you want regular."
"I take it then are 10 more stupid questions to answer."
"Do you want any of the following added - caramel, hazelnut, essence of gwarp, or an infusion of organic bat eyelashes?"
"The only thing I am going to add is sugar."
"White, raw, brown, caster or sweet'n'low?"
"Just give me the bloody coffee before someone gets hurt."
Which is why I avoid Starbucks like the plague. And any other stupid coffee selling establishment that tries to copy its business model.
I have now found a bread shop at Broadway to avoid. I had to deal with this yesterday:
"That loaf of bread on the top shelf please."
"White, brown or nut?
"White".
"Seeds or no seeds?"
"Seeds."
"Carroway, sesame or flocker?"
"Uh, sesame."
"Sliced or unsliced?"
"Unsliced."
"Paper bag or plastic bag?"
"Paper."
"Carry bag?"
"Yes please."
Oh for crying out loud! I just want the bloody load on the top shelf, as it is, stuffed into a bag! How hard can it be to sell a loaf of bread? Are these people suffering from a lack of conversation, and feel that they have to turn every sales opportunity into a 10 minute discourse?
With luck, they will spend all their time talking, no time selling and soon be out of business. Capitalism is our only hope.
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
Now to a story about the pain of being a pedestrian in Sydney.
I think the article is spot on, but I am amazed that we had to import a Dane to conduct some simple tests - like walking along a street with a watch and timing how much time you spend walking and how much time you spend standing at a corner waiting for the lights to cross.
These Danes are so much more technically advanced than we are - perhaps they have special stopwatches that are on their technology export banned list?
Sorry for the sarcasm -
These results should come as no surprise to anyone that has ever had to walk around Sydney. It's crystal clear that the road system is completely geared towards the car, and pedestrians are 3rd class. I don't mind that sort of attitude when it comes to freeways, but at some point, everyone who drives into the city has to get out and walk.
The planners seem to have forgotten that drivers and pedestrians are the same people. (Yes, some catch the train or bus to town, but every car driver is a pedestrian at some point. Except maybe taxis.) Making the city friendly to cars and unfriendly to pedestrians is not the way to win hearts and minds.
City planners seem to treat the car as an object in its own right - that is, a car is a car and has no occupants. The important thing is to get the car to its destination in the fastest possible time - and bugger the person within. That's barmy, since you often have to park and then walk to get to your destination. Journeys can be made up of multiple parts. I hate the word, but holistic is something that needs to be injected into the heads of planners.
Preferably with a big fat needle. Right through the skull.
I think the article is spot on, but I am amazed that we had to import a Dane to conduct some simple tests - like walking along a street with a watch and timing how much time you spend walking and how much time you spend standing at a corner waiting for the lights to cross.
These Danes are so much more technically advanced than we are - perhaps they have special stopwatches that are on their technology export banned list?
Sorry for the sarcasm -
SYDNEY pedestrians can spend as much time waiting to cross the street as they do on the move because the car has ruled the city unnecessarily for 30 years.
The Danish architect and urban planner Jan Gehl, who began studying Sydney's walkers in May, believes they are harassed and feel like a second priority, putting people at risk of getting hit by cars.
"The worse you treat people, the more they start to take the law into their own hands," Professor Gehl said.
Test walks conducted along major streets such as George, Pitt, Market and Druitt found it took much longer to cross the city from east to west than to walk up the city's spine.
The worst is Market Street, where pedestrians who obey traffic signals spend half their time waiting for the signals to turn green, his research team found. The wait created a sense of crowding, even if the number of people was not particularly high, because people were forced to cluster on each corner.
Traversing Druitt and Park streets involved waiting for about 30 per cent of the time. A spate of accidents around Druitt Street shows the disruptions that have been caused. The State Transit Authority stopped city-bound buses using Druitt Street last month after at least 11 accidents involving pedestrians in the past two years.
Sydney has the potential for "much better turnover" of people, Professor Gehl believes.
In Melbourne, whose council he has advised, the Bourke Street Mall is far more populated than Pitt Street, and Swanston Street, a major thoroughfare, has more than 15,000 more users a day than George Street.
"You have a number of built-in harassments," Professor Gehl said.
One is his pet hate, the traffic button that walkers must push to "apply" to cross the road. Another is the cluttering of the streetscape by large phone booths and bus stops that accommodate large advertising signs.
Professor Gehl has just been engaged by the City of New York to find solutions for Manhattan, which he considers has similar topography to Sydney because it is surrounded by water and has narrow footpaths.
Measures to alter the balance between drivers and walkers range from the radical - doubling tax on fuel - to the subtle - altering the configuration for turning left and right off thoroughfares.
At present, Sydney's roads, footpaths and traffic light configurations all conspired to favour the car, Professor Gehl said. They were a product of traffic engineering that was refined in the 1960s and '70s but never reviewed.
"In many cities they have never come further than accommodating this new gimmick [the motor vehicle]. They have just been allowed to fill every void."
Modern traffic engineers have found ways to accommodate walkers more easily.
"I would say that it's recognised in more and more cities that you have to be more friendly to pedestrians and public life and bicycles because we have been unfriendly for a long time."
Unlike other areas, where councils control the roads, alterations in Sydney have to be approved by the Roads and Traffic Authority.
Changes can be hard to agree on. Recent efforts by City of Sydney to have the RTA reduce the speed limit to 40kmh failed amid strong political opposition.
A City of Sydney councillor, John McInerney, who sits on the council's traffic committee, is hoping the authority will be receptive to Professor Gehl's report, which is due in December.
A spokesman for the authority said it was implementing a $17 million, three-year program to upgrade all 59 pedestrian crossings without traffic lights on state roads with four or more lanes.
-----------------These results should come as no surprise to anyone that has ever had to walk around Sydney. It's crystal clear that the road system is completely geared towards the car, and pedestrians are 3rd class. I don't mind that sort of attitude when it comes to freeways, but at some point, everyone who drives into the city has to get out and walk.
The planners seem to have forgotten that drivers and pedestrians are the same people. (Yes, some catch the train or bus to town, but every car driver is a pedestrian at some point. Except maybe taxis.) Making the city friendly to cars and unfriendly to pedestrians is not the way to win hearts and minds.
City planners seem to treat the car as an object in its own right - that is, a car is a car and has no occupants. The important thing is to get the car to its destination in the fastest possible time - and bugger the person within. That's barmy, since you often have to park and then walk to get to your destination. Journeys can be made up of multiple parts. I hate the word, but holistic is something that needs to be injected into the heads of planners.
Preferably with a big fat needle. Right through the skull.
Monday, 10 September 2007
Riding the Cooks River
I rode down the Cooks River from Homebush to just shy of the airport today. The route looked vaguely like this. I have no idea what distance I did, since I forgot to set the wheel size on my bike computer when I changed the battery today. It was able to register the elapsed time for the ride, but neither speed nor distance got past zero.
I reckon it was at least 20km from Homebush, plus another 8 each way to get to and from Homebush from home. That makes it somewhere in the vicinity of 50km or more. It took 2hrs 10min, and it bloody near killed me.
I have never done this route before, and all I had to guide me was a totally crap map from the RTA. The CEO recently sent me a stack of maps after I wrote to him to complain about useless or missing signage on the cycle path near Parramatta, and he sent he a nice letter in return along with the maps. I thought I would give the maps a go.
I am too tired tonight to write him a letter, but when I do work up the energy, it is unlikely to be nice. If they weren't so large and shiny, I would hang them in the bathroom and wipe my arse with them.
I was lost from the get-go. I stumbled around the Homebush area for a while, generally heading in the right direction, when another cyclist came up behind me. I asked him if he was heading for Botany Bay, and the reply was "No, but I am going to Tempe". I had no idea where Tempe was, so I figured I would just follow him for as far as I could.
As it turned out, Tempe was the end of the line for both of us, and I was glad to turn around when we got there. He was much skinnier, quite a bit fitter and as a result, about 20% faster in cruise mode. I really had to push it along to keep up with him and chat at the same time. I wasn't working at full capacity by any means, but I was certainly out of my normal comfort zone.
I'm glad I did this ride, but I am in no hurry to do it again. Apparently it is a disaster area on weekends with prams, pedestrians and dogs going in all directions, and the path goes through at least four council areas, so the quality of it varies widely depending on the attitude and resources of each council. In some places it is great. In others, it is a goat track. At one point, we were riding on grass and crossing tree roots. It was a really mixed bag.
What also killed me was the continual transition between riding two abreast and single file. Since the other bloke knew the route, I always let him take the lead. That meant I was constantly braking to drop behind me when we struck pedestrians or prams or just a narrow path, and then I'd have to pick up the pace to catch him.
At least it was reasonably flat. I am just too rooted to write anymore.
I reckon it was at least 20km from Homebush, plus another 8 each way to get to and from Homebush from home. That makes it somewhere in the vicinity of 50km or more. It took 2hrs 10min, and it bloody near killed me.
I have never done this route before, and all I had to guide me was a totally crap map from the RTA. The CEO recently sent me a stack of maps after I wrote to him to complain about useless or missing signage on the cycle path near Parramatta, and he sent he a nice letter in return along with the maps. I thought I would give the maps a go.
I am too tired tonight to write him a letter, but when I do work up the energy, it is unlikely to be nice. If they weren't so large and shiny, I would hang them in the bathroom and wipe my arse with them.
I was lost from the get-go. I stumbled around the Homebush area for a while, generally heading in the right direction, when another cyclist came up behind me. I asked him if he was heading for Botany Bay, and the reply was "No, but I am going to Tempe". I had no idea where Tempe was, so I figured I would just follow him for as far as I could.
As it turned out, Tempe was the end of the line for both of us, and I was glad to turn around when we got there. He was much skinnier, quite a bit fitter and as a result, about 20% faster in cruise mode. I really had to push it along to keep up with him and chat at the same time. I wasn't working at full capacity by any means, but I was certainly out of my normal comfort zone.
I'm glad I did this ride, but I am in no hurry to do it again. Apparently it is a disaster area on weekends with prams, pedestrians and dogs going in all directions, and the path goes through at least four council areas, so the quality of it varies widely depending on the attitude and resources of each council. In some places it is great. In others, it is a goat track. At one point, we were riding on grass and crossing tree roots. It was a really mixed bag.
What also killed me was the continual transition between riding two abreast and single file. Since the other bloke knew the route, I always let him take the lead. That meant I was constantly braking to drop behind me when we struck pedestrians or prams or just a narrow path, and then I'd have to pick up the pace to catch him.
At least it was reasonably flat. I am just too rooted to write anymore.
Do you fire flares of release them?
I have read several stories today about RAAF F18's "firing" flares at a Cessna over the weekend.
Do modern aircraft "fire" flares or do they "release" them? What is the proper terminology?
I would pick "release", and here are some lovely photos of lots of flares being released by various aircraft.
To my way of thinking, "firing" involves shooting something out. Bombs are released. Bullets are fired. I guess missiles are released since they ignite after they leave the pylon. Rockets are fired.
I just wonder how the hell the RAAF "fired" flares at the Cessna? Did they zoom over the top of it and then release them out the back?
When I hear that a pilot has "fired flares", I think of someone in a Sopwith Camel using a flare pistol from an open cockpit. I doubt the Hornet pilots were able to open their canopies in flight and do the same, and I have never heard of a pod that you can attach to a Hornet that allows you to sneak up behind someone and fire flares at them.
Unless they had decided to get serious and were in fact firing tracer, which would be another matter altogether. I might have to stir up some greenie truthers by telling them that the Hornets were in fact firing depleted plutonium shells, specially fabricated at Lucas Heights for the conference, and that everyone knows that plutonium burns in contact with air. What people on the ground saw were igniting plutonium rounds.
These rounds hit the ground near Auburn and demolished a kebab shop, as the photo below demonstrates:
A resident of Lakemba holds two 20mm depleted plutonium bullets that were fired at her house by the RAAF over the weekend. She says it was part of a government plot to kill Keysar Trad, who was having dinner there at the time.
Do modern aircraft "fire" flares or do they "release" them? What is the proper terminology?
I would pick "release", and here are some lovely photos of lots of flares being released by various aircraft.
To my way of thinking, "firing" involves shooting something out. Bombs are released. Bullets are fired. I guess missiles are released since they ignite after they leave the pylon. Rockets are fired.
I just wonder how the hell the RAAF "fired" flares at the Cessna? Did they zoom over the top of it and then release them out the back?
When I hear that a pilot has "fired flares", I think of someone in a Sopwith Camel using a flare pistol from an open cockpit. I doubt the Hornet pilots were able to open their canopies in flight and do the same, and I have never heard of a pod that you can attach to a Hornet that allows you to sneak up behind someone and fire flares at them.
Unless they had decided to get serious and were in fact firing tracer, which would be another matter altogether. I might have to stir up some greenie truthers by telling them that the Hornets were in fact firing depleted plutonium shells, specially fabricated at Lucas Heights for the conference, and that everyone knows that plutonium burns in contact with air. What people on the ground saw were igniting plutonium rounds.
These rounds hit the ground near Auburn and demolished a kebab shop, as the photo below demonstrates:
A resident of Lakemba holds two 20mm depleted plutonium bullets that were fired at her house by the RAAF over the weekend. She says it was part of a government plot to kill Keysar Trad, who was having dinner there at the time.
Modernising the Army?
I was browsing through the defense web site today, looking at photos from Afghanistan. I have stolen these three photos without asking permission from anyone. They piqued my interest.
I have not seen one of these for years. I'm surprised the Army is still running them (the Mac truck - not the Globemaster). I got to drive them back in the late 1980's, when we were doing an exercise one year around the Nannup area. Our unit usually didn't take Macs on exercise, since they were unnecessary for the size of the exercise that we were running. We normally just ran Unimogs and Landrovers, with a smattering of F1 trucks until they were phased out.
However, our transport Staff Sgt somehow wangled one, and we took turns in fanging it around the countryside for a week. They were a big jump up from the Mogs in terms of size, and took a bit of getting used to. The bonnet is enormously long - you could lift the lid and park a Commodore under it. Judging the corners was a nightmare, which is why I am glad I never had to drive one in the city. The gearbox was a doozey - the tacho had a line painted at some level of revs, and when you changed up, you had to double declutch into neutral and let the revs fall to exactly that line before shifting into the next gear. If you tried to shift before or after that line, you were stuffed. Stop the truck, fail to collect $200 and start again.
Part of the fun was tooling around the backroads and scaring the cows. Whenever we found a paddock with cattle in it, we'd blast the air horn and watch them take off - tails out vertically, seemingly propelled by liquid poo squirting out of their bums. It was lots of fun until a farmer saw us. Oops.
This is one of the old International Harvester F1 6x6 trucks that were around when I did my military driving course. I read today that these were deployed to Vietnam the year before I was born. Plenty of them were still around when I got my military license over 20 years later. They had a 283 cubic inch petrol motor that wasn't capable of de-skinning a custard and a crash gearbox. Power steering was something that we only dreamed about. At least the windscreen (which was flat and split down the middle) could be folded out frontwise to provide a bit more circulation in the cab. Until some bees flew in one day and stung my co-driver in the face.
They were great beasts, and many of them are still around today doing things out in the country somewhere. They were tough. We found that out the hard way when our regiment got its first issue of Mogs. We commonly used the F1 to make roads through the bush, since it had a front bumper that could easily handle pushing over small trees, and there was nothing down the sides to catch on boulders, tree stumps and the like.
We tried the same trick with some Mogs, and found out the hard way that they were made of plastic and fibreglass. $100,000 worth of damage was done to three trucks in one day. Tool boxes torn off. Front ends smashed up. Mud guards destroyed. Don't get me wrong - I love the Unimog. It's fantastic off road. It's just not suitable for use as a bulldozer.
The F1 truck by the way is not to be confused with the F1 submachine gun, which was also around when I did my basic training. According to Wikipedia, it was phased out in 1991 and replaced by the Steyr. That might be the official story, but I never saw one after my boot camp in 1985.
I grabbed this photo, which shows diesel being pumped out of a 44 gallon drum using a hand pump. I would have thought by now that the Army would have come up with a faster method for transferring fuel in the field. I don't know how many litres of fuel I pumped this way, but I do know that I used to stink of diesel for days after an exercise had ended. There was no way to avoid it splashing over your clothes and skin.
I also had biceps and triceps back then - I doubt I could pump out a couple of drums in a row like I used to be able to.
Ah, the good old Charlie Gutsache. The best thing around for sucking all the snot out of your nose, or blowing all the fillings out of your teeth (if you fail to keep your mouth open whilst firing it).
I have not seen one of these for years. I'm surprised the Army is still running them (the Mac truck - not the Globemaster). I got to drive them back in the late 1980's, when we were doing an exercise one year around the Nannup area. Our unit usually didn't take Macs on exercise, since they were unnecessary for the size of the exercise that we were running. We normally just ran Unimogs and Landrovers, with a smattering of F1 trucks until they were phased out.
However, our transport Staff Sgt somehow wangled one, and we took turns in fanging it around the countryside for a week. They were a big jump up from the Mogs in terms of size, and took a bit of getting used to. The bonnet is enormously long - you could lift the lid and park a Commodore under it. Judging the corners was a nightmare, which is why I am glad I never had to drive one in the city. The gearbox was a doozey - the tacho had a line painted at some level of revs, and when you changed up, you had to double declutch into neutral and let the revs fall to exactly that line before shifting into the next gear. If you tried to shift before or after that line, you were stuffed. Stop the truck, fail to collect $200 and start again.
Part of the fun was tooling around the backroads and scaring the cows. Whenever we found a paddock with cattle in it, we'd blast the air horn and watch them take off - tails out vertically, seemingly propelled by liquid poo squirting out of their bums. It was lots of fun until a farmer saw us. Oops.
This is one of the old International Harvester F1 6x6 trucks that were around when I did my military driving course. I read today that these were deployed to Vietnam the year before I was born. Plenty of them were still around when I got my military license over 20 years later. They had a 283 cubic inch petrol motor that wasn't capable of de-skinning a custard and a crash gearbox. Power steering was something that we only dreamed about. At least the windscreen (which was flat and split down the middle) could be folded out frontwise to provide a bit more circulation in the cab. Until some bees flew in one day and stung my co-driver in the face.
They were great beasts, and many of them are still around today doing things out in the country somewhere. They were tough. We found that out the hard way when our regiment got its first issue of Mogs. We commonly used the F1 to make roads through the bush, since it had a front bumper that could easily handle pushing over small trees, and there was nothing down the sides to catch on boulders, tree stumps and the like.
We tried the same trick with some Mogs, and found out the hard way that they were made of plastic and fibreglass. $100,000 worth of damage was done to three trucks in one day. Tool boxes torn off. Front ends smashed up. Mud guards destroyed. Don't get me wrong - I love the Unimog. It's fantastic off road. It's just not suitable for use as a bulldozer.
The F1 truck by the way is not to be confused with the F1 submachine gun, which was also around when I did my basic training. According to Wikipedia, it was phased out in 1991 and replaced by the Steyr. That might be the official story, but I never saw one after my boot camp in 1985.
I grabbed this photo, which shows diesel being pumped out of a 44 gallon drum using a hand pump. I would have thought by now that the Army would have come up with a faster method for transferring fuel in the field. I don't know how many litres of fuel I pumped this way, but I do know that I used to stink of diesel for days after an exercise had ended. There was no way to avoid it splashing over your clothes and skin.
I also had biceps and triceps back then - I doubt I could pump out a couple of drums in a row like I used to be able to.
Ah, the good old Charlie Gutsache. The best thing around for sucking all the snot out of your nose, or blowing all the fillings out of your teeth (if you fail to keep your mouth open whilst firing it).
Feel free to yank some chains
The stopbush2007 mob have kindly posted an online form where you can leave a message of support.
I know it is too late, but I just had to drop them a line:
The National Socialist Workers Party supports the Stop Bush Coalition's call for a mass protest in Sydney.
We have learned the hard way that invading and occupying other countries is a bad idea.
We support the state control of multi-national companies, and the right of the state to direct those companies to produce goods that the government is most in need of.
Our dear leader, who has sadly departed us, taught us through his example the virtues of being a vegan. He also took over large areas of Europe and returned them to their natural state. He was also a fierce advocate of reducing the impact that humans have on the planet by reducing population densities in various areas. We can learn from this example.
We also believe that young people are the future. We believe in doing all that we can to enrol them in our youth program so that they can be properly educated in their responsiblities to our planet.
Our party proudly stands behind Al Gore and his message - when we think of him, we say "One people, one planet, one leader".
I know it is too late, but I just had to drop them a line:
The National Socialist Workers Party supports the Stop Bush Coalition's call for a mass protest in Sydney.
We have learned the hard way that invading and occupying other countries is a bad idea.
We support the state control of multi-national companies, and the right of the state to direct those companies to produce goods that the government is most in need of.
Our dear leader, who has sadly departed us, taught us through his example the virtues of being a vegan. He also took over large areas of Europe and returned them to their natural state. He was also a fierce advocate of reducing the impact that humans have on the planet by reducing population densities in various areas. We can learn from this example.
We also believe that young people are the future. We believe in doing all that we can to enrol them in our youth program so that they can be properly educated in their responsiblities to our planet.
Our party proudly stands behind Al Gore and his message - when we think of him, we say "One people, one planet, one leader".
Coalition of the shrilling
I could never be a journalist. It takes too long for my thoughts to gel (or congeal), which means it can be days between an event that sparks an idea and the idea being put to paper in coherent form.
Which maybe why so much of what we see on TV or read in the paper is incoherent gibberish. It has just been flung together in a hurry, without time to reflect, ponder and have a few beers.
A few days have passed since I had a look at the APEC rallies. Countless trees have been felled (and CO2 released into the atmosphere) to provide coverage of the event, which had global warming as one of its themes. Dozens of arclights have burned day and night to provide proper television coverage, consuming vast vats of electricity. Coal has been burned in abundance to keep the TV crews well lit. I don't remember anything about carbon offsets being purchased by the rally organisers, so I guess my attendance contributed to the death of at least one polar bear.
Personally, I prefer clubbing baby fur seals, but a polar bear will just have to do.
The rally, which I think was supposed to be about stopping Bush, was supported by at least 31 disparate groups - you can get a list of those that provided statements of support here.
Some might say that in order to drum up the maximum possible numbers, they cast the net far and wide. I prefer the term "scraping the bottom of the barrel".
When you have 31 groups acting together as one, you have a coalition. In this case, the Coalition of the Shrilling. After hearing the furious termagant (more thesaurus work there for you) speak the other day, I was thinking of calling them the Coalition of the Shrieking, but I settled on Shrilling as it rhymes with "willing".
In the days leading up to the rally, the mouthpieces yabbited on about how it would be peaceful etc etc etc. I want to know how they can make statements like that, given that so many different groups were involved. Can the organisers personally vouch for every single group that provided a statement of support? Do they know the organisers of each and every group, and can they be sure that they are only bringing along sane, sensible people?
The answer of course is "no". They had no idea who was going to turn up. They just want maximum numbers, and I don't think they are too fussy about how they make those numbers. Since that is the case, they have no way of excluding those that might want to trash every multinational franchise such as Stabucks, McDonalds and the Body Shop. It's just not possible. When you cast a wide net, it's like long line fishing. You're going to haul some things out of the ocean that you weren't fishing for, but took the bait anyway. Like dolphins, turtles and albatross.
Expecting everyone who turns up to be peaceful and law abiding is something no one can guarantee, and only a complete fool, or a liar, would make such a statement. Just because you have good intentions doesn't mean that everyone you attract will feel the same way.
After all, they attracted me to the rally. I don't think I am the sort of person that they had in mind when they started trawling for victims.
Which maybe why so much of what we see on TV or read in the paper is incoherent gibberish. It has just been flung together in a hurry, without time to reflect, ponder and have a few beers.
A few days have passed since I had a look at the APEC rallies. Countless trees have been felled (and CO2 released into the atmosphere) to provide coverage of the event, which had global warming as one of its themes. Dozens of arclights have burned day and night to provide proper television coverage, consuming vast vats of electricity. Coal has been burned in abundance to keep the TV crews well lit. I don't remember anything about carbon offsets being purchased by the rally organisers, so I guess my attendance contributed to the death of at least one polar bear.
Personally, I prefer clubbing baby fur seals, but a polar bear will just have to do.
The rally, which I think was supposed to be about stopping Bush, was supported by at least 31 disparate groups - you can get a list of those that provided statements of support here.
Some might say that in order to drum up the maximum possible numbers, they cast the net far and wide. I prefer the term "scraping the bottom of the barrel".
When you have 31 groups acting together as one, you have a coalition. In this case, the Coalition of the Shrilling. After hearing the furious termagant (more thesaurus work there for you) speak the other day, I was thinking of calling them the Coalition of the Shrieking, but I settled on Shrilling as it rhymes with "willing".
In the days leading up to the rally, the mouthpieces yabbited on about how it would be peaceful etc etc etc. I want to know how they can make statements like that, given that so many different groups were involved. Can the organisers personally vouch for every single group that provided a statement of support? Do they know the organisers of each and every group, and can they be sure that they are only bringing along sane, sensible people?
The answer of course is "no". They had no idea who was going to turn up. They just want maximum numbers, and I don't think they are too fussy about how they make those numbers. Since that is the case, they have no way of excluding those that might want to trash every multinational franchise such as Stabucks, McDonalds and the Body Shop. It's just not possible. When you cast a wide net, it's like long line fishing. You're going to haul some things out of the ocean that you weren't fishing for, but took the bait anyway. Like dolphins, turtles and albatross.
Expecting everyone who turns up to be peaceful and law abiding is something no one can guarantee, and only a complete fool, or a liar, would make such a statement. Just because you have good intentions doesn't mean that everyone you attract will feel the same way.
After all, they attracted me to the rally. I don't think I am the sort of person that they had in mind when they started trawling for victims.
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