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Public Address - Heat (Home)

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Winner - Best Personal Blog - 2003 Netguide Web Awards

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That's all folks | Sep 12, 2004 23:50

In this life you get out what you put in, son.

That's what I tell today's insolent youth when I bail them up on the bus with their butt-crack showing above belt-less balloon pants.

Son, pull yourself together, I say. Straighten up and put something in.

Don't give me that look, I say. You get out what you put in. So pull up those pants and, go on, put something in.

I think they are listening, when I do this. I think some of them at least are thinking, "Hey, that old guy talks a lot of sense."

Anyway, it's much like blogging, dear reader. You get out what you put in, and frankly I haven't put anything in for a while.

I've been a busy boy and I've been expecting to get less busy, but it just ain't happening. And while no one likes a quitter, there is a time when all good things must come to an end. For my blog this is that time.

Publicaddress came along for me at just the right time. I wasn't really doing any writing and I was working at a job I didn't much care for. It's been great fun. Originally it wasn't supposed to be about much at all. It was to be "the blog about nothing", a la Seinfeld, but really just about me and the Girlie, everyday life and the odd strange or stimulating idea.

Unfortunately politics intruded. I've always been wary about politics and feel a bit soiled for even caring about it. I'd much rather read a good book. But the last couple of years have been highly political and I've often been led astray, into the fray. For that I apologise and hope that at least some of my thoughts on those subjects weren't totally banal.

But things on the work front have changed for the better and I really want to free up as much time as possible to give a new role a good shake.

To put something in, son. To put something in.

So while I may be pulling out over here, I'm putting in over there. You see. That's life and we have to move on.

Anyway, Publicaddress has been enormously successful and won a lot of eyeballs. That's because it's been a damn good read, often a better, more stimulating and more thoughtful read than you get from much of the mainstream media. Maybe we've even given you a laugh or two.

Its success has been because a bunch of people have been putting in. Putting in big time if you count all those words. But the real credit goes to Russell on whom we have all to some degree piggybacked and me perhaps more than most. Also to the team in the backroom at Cactuslab, as Russ would say, "Big ups".

And now an indulgence. Along the way over the last eighteen months or so I have produced few particular favourites, so if you have a bit of spare, if you're not busy putting in, as it were, and want to do a bit of pulling out, wrap your eyeballs around this lot!

The Girlie
The Girlie thinks I'm gay
The Girlie downshifts

Epiphany on Circular Quay
Granny has an orgasm
Another day, another holiday
Das capital

Who said Quagmire?
Five minutes ago

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A few simple things | Jul 22, 2004 18:41

The way I figure it, the average man in the street wants just a few simple things from this tough old life. They want to remain young, slim, have an MBA without studying, sport a bigger, rock-hard Johnson and perhaps, at least according to my inbox this morning, to be called "Minister":

Become a legally ordained minister within 48 hours. As a minister, you will be authorised to perform the rites and ceremonies of the church!

Perform Weddings, Funerals, Perform Baptisms, Forgiveness of Sins. Visit Correctional Facilities. Want to start your own church?

Press here to find out how

Now while I share most of these aspirations with my fellow chaps, this last one I find curiously tempting, especially the bit about visiting correctional facilities. Others might go for the forgiveness gig, but give me a correctional facility any time.

Now right below the message above was an even better one obviously designed, I think, to help this compelling offer bypass corporate spam filters:

Ah, OUI! Eet is ze two dollar, M'sieur.

All right; I can stay about a day before I go bankrupt .
Give me a room.

CERTAINEMENT, M'sieur In studies comparing different lactams the spectrum of coverage was similar in both arms However, synergism can be examined only indirectly.

You get that with synergism, I find. It's very frustrating.

What women want remains a mystery. I think it's fair to say, there is a dearth of spam directed at the fairer sex. If any of you out there have any suggestions, drop me a subject line…

Now, with the powers that be persisting in trying to scare the living shit out of everyone on terrorism, I think it's time to look at the lighter side.

Yes, terrorism can be funny.

First stop, visit the Taleban Reunited website:

Our database includes over 5,000 Terrorist Camps and Flight Training Schools, Al-Qaeda bases and Mud Huts. Over 500,000 Terrorist have signed up to our service and its growing at over 5,000 everyday.

Next visit the George Bush Conspiracy Theory Generator. Don't bother with the random theory option, go down below and create your own customised conspiracy.

Or get the latest war on terrorism (WOT) headlines:

Bush Admits Iraq Invasion Caused by Typo

Terrorists Now Demand Philippines Make Them a Drink and Bring Them the Paper

Bush Daughters Move Out Into Real World Where Parents Still Pay for Everything

Osama Bin Laden to Speak, Get Captured at Republican National Convention

Pro-War Activists Threaten to Behead Filipinos

NEW MARKET, VA (DPI) - A group of pro-war activists took hostage several Filipino tourists and threatened beheading them if the Philippines did not send combat troops back into Iraq. In a videotaped message sent to a TV station in Richmond, the hooded activist leader said, "We don't care what they bomb and we don't care who they bomb, but the Philippines should be bombing the crap out of something or someone in Iraq!"

Rock on.

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The new, like, whatever | Jul 09, 2004 12:05

At last, Friday is the new Friday. Again. I seem to remember sometime in the 70s or early 80s when Friday was definitely Friday, but ever since it's been either Thursday or Saturday with the occasional doomed challenge from Wednesday.

But that was in New Zealand, in Auckland to be more specific, where Friday was late night and there was no Saturday morning shopping and very few shopping malls. Back then Friday ruled, majestic and so did Queen Street. The Golden Mile it was, a heaving, steaming, jumping place. I worked on the corner of His Majesty's Arcade. Every few minutes the Hare Krishnas would chant past loudly and the Topp Twins would often take up residence outside the bank next door. Smelly Feet, later half of the Kiwi Animal, would sing his own brand of songs across the road on the corner of Vulcan Lane: My Festered Toe, Peanuts, A Vegetable Market…

In Sydney, however, Friday is challenged by the fact late night shopping is on Thursday. Nevertheless, it still goes off. The net result is everything is back the way God intended when He created pissing up.

The after work booze-up is my personal favourite and always has been. Apart from a phase in my early thirties, at the Box and Cause Celebre mainly, I've never been a go-out-late-and-get-home-in-the-morning kind of guy. The after work booze-up requires little planning, needs no excuse, requires no dressing up. It's hassle free and it's a big tradition here, as it once was back home before they pulled all the pubs down or turned them into faux Belgian atrocities.

Try and buy a Lion Red in town these days. Go on. Give it a go.

Anyway, over here I've taken to asking for a schooner of "bitter". The confused bar staff look at you very oddly, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"A bitter thanks," I say. Then pause briefly before making a snappy, smarmy finger pointing action: "…Victoria Bitter".

Oh I crack myself up, I really do!

Anyway, having been remiss in posting here's a quick catch-up of unfinished business.

First I went to see the new NZ film In My Father's Den on the opening night at the Sydney Film Festival, Girlie in tow. A great script but a relatively dour film with the angst laid on thick at times. I enjoyed it overall as did most of the audience, but can't help feeling it had been over-hyped. A workmate, an editor from eastern Europe, enjoyed it greatly though. I think she thought it was a comedy.

On another front, I've realised that as the years go by and one's natural charms fade, a more scientific approach to the mating dance seems sensible. Thanks to my access to census data, I've now been able to accurately pinpoint concentrations of single women around the city.

The Kirribili and Cremorne areas just across the bridge rate tops but generally I don't get over there too much, until last Saturday to meet a friend for brunch. There's a market under the bridge and some good cafes and there certainly are a lot of the gentler sex about strutting their stuff - or at least that's how I interpret it.

They're probably just out to buy a paper and a bottle of milk.

We wandered down around the PM's place later and there is still a remarkable lack of visible security around. I saw one guy with a pistol on his belt and that was it. From the ferries you can look into the back garden of Kirribili House and once again there is usually no sign of activity.

Apparently back in the 80s there used to be a permanent brown patch of grass on the lawn where Bob Hawke practiced his golf swing, firing balls into the harbour.

This weekend, I think, will be Biennale time. Lots of free art stuff at the Art Gallery of New South Wales and Museum of Contemporary Art and elsewhere. It's getting mixed reviews, but what the hell?

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