I don't think I get a lot of social networking sites on the Internet, I'm told they are really good but much like the image of Mr T doing his taxes I just cant visualise it. Ive had people try and explain this cyberplague to me before, but the hybrid bulletin board/chat/blog/photo gallery/messaging all on a one page is a lot like Homers website giving the user a certain level of option paralysis.
Perhaps I'm looking for more then they are.. are they just prefab websites for the technically inept? I agree the Internet is big. Really big. Hoff in pre-fall of Berlin Wall Germany Big. But that doesn't mean you have to cut it down into bite size chunks for easy digestion for fear of needing an Heimlich should you take too much in at once.
Browsing the Internet is a lot like a good meal, it has courses and is sectioned. You start with an appetiser, generally something just to start the palette such as your home page. This could be a news site you set it to just so you know whats happened outside your parents basement bunker for the last 2 weeks since you last saw sunshine. Or maybe something simpler like Google as you always change what you might want to start your day with.
Following this you persue the wine list and maybe choose a nice bodied red to enjoy with your main meal and some light conversation. By the time your main has arrived your taste buds are open for business and rolling around naked in the flavour. If the Internet is a selection of food then facebook is a poptart. Its like going to Sizzler and dragging your chair up to the all-you-can-eat bar to construct a banana split using Sheppard's pie and prawns, too much in too small a space.
I do think theses sites have a certain purpose, I mean they are a pretty good promotional flyer on [Your Brand Name Here], but they just don't grab me in terms of a personal stamp on the Internet. I know people like to personalise their stuff, put stickers on their skateboard, pot plants on the patio, swords on the wall - but adding tomato sauce to your cheese sandwich doesn't really make it a completely new revolutionary type of sandwich, its just a cheese sandwich... with sauce.
If you want a blog then get a blog. If you want a place for your pictures then use flikr or something of that ilk. If you want to message your friends then use an instant messenger. The moral here is when your packing the car for the beach you dont shove in the snow shoes. If you want a website you should have one that reflects you and what you want, not some tracer version - ticking the box to get one with the lot (which looks a lot like your friends but totally different as you use that full sick font... dude).
Until someone can explain to me why these are good, which isnt that they take a whole lot of existing stuff and repackage it with a new bow in one place - I'll be staying away. Because at the moment they come off as the new electronic version of crack.
Andy. Man without a Facebook page.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Help fight Logophobia
I'm left with a peculiar problem of late which I am unsure of which is that either I'm getting smarter or the world is getting dumber. Ordinarily you could score yourself somehow, rank yourself in a greater sense of above or below normal - either by some form of test or counting how many lead paint chips you ate as a child. For example, a benchmark for funny would be either plus or minus a man falling down an up escalator. My problem is I think the chicken was roadkill while trying to find the middle of the road.
This isn't such a far leap to consider the problem maybe a matter of perspective. Until about the 16th century the planet believed that the sun revolved around the earth as it seemed to move while they did not. However, my belief isn't due to a theory that I am secretly the centre of the Universe (which is yet to be disproven) but more rather based on the reason that hairdryers in hotels have warning labels to advise against use in the shower.
You don't have to go far to see what I'm talking about which may leave you with a feeling that Darwin was stoned a lot. There are simple things like a style of wearing pants halfway down your underwear, not be so much a fashion exercise as providing easy access for a body cavity search. Pants are fairly simple devices to operate but beside eliminating the prospect of going commando, all it really is is wearing your underwear up higher than your pants - a great look if your visiting the grandchildren.
Conversation is the main point of contention for which I think I have a problem. For example 'Dude' is not the literally equivalent of duct tape to be used to string sentences together. Chances are if you want to have a conversation with me and every 3rd word is either 'Like' or 'Dude' then your going to finish up with your testicles super glued to a ceiling fan while I figure out if 1 or 5 is the highest setting.
Don't get me wrong Dude has a place and function and form. Given the correct tone and delivery 'Dude' can have a multitude of meanings. For example the correct English response to "DUDE!" is of course "SWEET!". You could say to someone what they have done is not really cool and a little off or you could say "Duuuuuude". In prehistoric days do you think they said, Oh "Ugg Ugg be a darling and please pass the salt" or was it point and "Urgh!", used correctly tone can convey a lot of meaning.
Some may say that swearing or sarcasm is a sign of a limited wit but I disagree, I believe raising your voice means your not smart enough to get your point across without shouting. Used correctly swearing can be like punctuation, it can tell you where a point starts or begins. But it has to be used with some level of control much like Dude, every 3rd word doesn't need to be Shit or you won't see the Bears from the Rabbits.
So I'm going to issue this challenge. When you hear a word that you don't hear often in conversation, try and work it in at some point with in the next day. It doesn't have to be fancy, I don't expect you to give directions to the hypotenuse. Just a simple verb, adjective or noun. Go to wikipedia and read a random article. Go to Dictionary.com and check the word of the day. Expand your vocabulary.
So tomorrow, when speaking be clear and concise. Don't use 5 words when 1 will do. Have a point. Try and keep to using words that you actually know the meaning of. Otherwise just shut up, sit in the corner and try and not stab yourself with the safety scissors.
Andy. Man who likes using big words and stuff.
This isn't such a far leap to consider the problem maybe a matter of perspective. Until about the 16th century the planet believed that the sun revolved around the earth as it seemed to move while they did not. However, my belief isn't due to a theory that I am secretly the centre of the Universe (which is yet to be disproven) but more rather based on the reason that hairdryers in hotels have warning labels to advise against use in the shower.
You don't have to go far to see what I'm talking about which may leave you with a feeling that Darwin was stoned a lot. There are simple things like a style of wearing pants halfway down your underwear, not be so much a fashion exercise as providing easy access for a body cavity search. Pants are fairly simple devices to operate but beside eliminating the prospect of going commando, all it really is is wearing your underwear up higher than your pants - a great look if your visiting the grandchildren.
Conversation is the main point of contention for which I think I have a problem. For example 'Dude' is not the literally equivalent of duct tape to be used to string sentences together. Chances are if you want to have a conversation with me and every 3rd word is either 'Like' or 'Dude' then your going to finish up with your testicles super glued to a ceiling fan while I figure out if 1 or 5 is the highest setting.
Don't get me wrong Dude has a place and function and form. Given the correct tone and delivery 'Dude' can have a multitude of meanings. For example the correct English response to "DUDE!" is of course "SWEET!". You could say to someone what they have done is not really cool and a little off or you could say "Duuuuuude". In prehistoric days do you think they said, Oh "Ugg Ugg be a darling and please pass the salt" or was it point and "Urgh!", used correctly tone can convey a lot of meaning.
Some may say that swearing or sarcasm is a sign of a limited wit but I disagree, I believe raising your voice means your not smart enough to get your point across without shouting. Used correctly swearing can be like punctuation, it can tell you where a point starts or begins. But it has to be used with some level of control much like Dude, every 3rd word doesn't need to be Shit or you won't see the Bears from the Rabbits.
So I'm going to issue this challenge. When you hear a word that you don't hear often in conversation, try and work it in at some point with in the next day. It doesn't have to be fancy, I don't expect you to give directions to the hypotenuse. Just a simple verb, adjective or noun. Go to wikipedia and read a random article. Go to Dictionary.com and check the word of the day. Expand your vocabulary.
So tomorrow, when speaking be clear and concise. Don't use 5 words when 1 will do. Have a point. Try and keep to using words that you actually know the meaning of. Otherwise just shut up, sit in the corner and try and not stab yourself with the safety scissors.
Andy. Man who likes using big words and stuff.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
0-100km/h in 24.5 Years
Some of you would know, some would not, the 22nd of September 2007 marks the end of an era. My dad has sold our 1983 Blue Toyota Cressida. This car holds a lot of history not only with me but with friends. I had done many things with and in that car - 3am treks to licenced pancake houses which were decorated with suits of armor, driving to other states on a moments whim, taking many a girlfriend to the drive-in but never seeing a movie. For a large part of my driving life this car was my identity, it got me from A to B which usually was from Anywhere to a Bar.
Your Modus Transit says a lot about you, its an extension of your personality. If your a green tea sipping, organic fabric wearing, sandal and sock wearing, $100 a year Greenpeace donating fancy pants. Then you might find your chariot is most likely a bicycle to and from work on a daily basis with a fully environmentally friendly hybrid for those longer weekend trips with a roof rack so your pushy doesn't get left behind. If your a little scruffy, little impatient for the slow and or stupid with a fairly low care level when it comes to where to sit, what to do, and where to park - then perhaps 2 wheel mode of transport like a Motorcycle is more to your persona.
If doesn't matter how much it cost, nor what review it got in Wheels magazine before you acquired it, once its yours it becomes a defining attribute. You could be that friend with the mini cooper that didn't have a radio for 3 months so would sing loud and bad in their car on every trip. The panel van with the plush carpet and mini disco ball dubbed the shaggin` wagon. The diesel Gemini which could get 800km to a single tank, which you know as you tested it and remember pushing it once after running out of gas. The little Colt with the Pretenders 500 Miles stuck in the deck and always on play.
Any transport right down to the BMX you rode when you were twelve has a certain yin and yang relation with your being, there is something you have done or something it does that just makes it yours. Some cars have reputations such as 4x4s being used as Urban APCs around school zones at 3:30 but never for 4x4'ing, V8's being owned by rev heads, Celicas and hairdressers - but what makes something yours is that certain j'est est qua. That old car was mine not for what it looked like, not the CD player and speakers that I had to cut the back shelf for to make fit when I replaced them, not for the sunroof you could jump through in a Dukes of Hazzard moment, but for what we did with it.
So to the Cressida we charge our glasses and I quote a friend - "To missions accomplished, to goals fulfilled, to limits broken; you are remembered."
Andy. Man who promised himself he wouldn't cry.
Your Modus Transit says a lot about you, its an extension of your personality. If your a green tea sipping, organic fabric wearing, sandal and sock wearing, $100 a year Greenpeace donating fancy pants. Then you might find your chariot is most likely a bicycle to and from work on a daily basis with a fully environmentally friendly hybrid for those longer weekend trips with a roof rack so your pushy doesn't get left behind. If your a little scruffy, little impatient for the slow and or stupid with a fairly low care level when it comes to where to sit, what to do, and where to park - then perhaps 2 wheel mode of transport like a Motorcycle is more to your persona.
If doesn't matter how much it cost, nor what review it got in Wheels magazine before you acquired it, once its yours it becomes a defining attribute. You could be that friend with the mini cooper that didn't have a radio for 3 months so would sing loud and bad in their car on every trip. The panel van with the plush carpet and mini disco ball dubbed the shaggin` wagon. The diesel Gemini which could get 800km to a single tank, which you know as you tested it and remember pushing it once after running out of gas. The little Colt with the Pretenders 500 Miles stuck in the deck and always on play.
Any transport right down to the BMX you rode when you were twelve has a certain yin and yang relation with your being, there is something you have done or something it does that just makes it yours. Some cars have reputations such as 4x4s being used as Urban APCs around school zones at 3:30 but never for 4x4'ing, V8's being owned by rev heads, Celicas and hairdressers - but what makes something yours is that certain j'est est qua. That old car was mine not for what it looked like, not the CD player and speakers that I had to cut the back shelf for to make fit when I replaced them, not for the sunroof you could jump through in a Dukes of Hazzard moment, but for what we did with it.
So to the Cressida we charge our glasses and I quote a friend - "To missions accomplished, to goals fulfilled, to limits broken; you are remembered."
Andy. Man who promised himself he wouldn't cry.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Clearly you've never been to Singapore
In case you didn't know this coming week marks International Talk like a Pirate Day. If another day existed which is better for rum swillin`, wenchin' and plundering then I don't know when that is. Some might call it a fictional holiday but its no more fictional then International Hallmark & Florist day on February 14th.
Talking like a Pirate is a lot like learning how to swear in a foreign language, you might know how to do it but you lack the opportunity to use it. But just like Christmas, once a year you get a shiny new bicycle to ride out on the street with all the other neighbourhood kids. And as a bonus being a Pirate is largely considered cool at the moment, no small thanks to Captain Jack Sparrow. Not all Pirates rate this, Peter Pan's nemesis for example is still a cautionary tale against masturbation.
There are few easily recognisably cool professions listed in relative order of coolness - Cowboy, Ninja, Spy, Pirate:
Your inner Pirate says, 'all in' when you have a pair of dueces against a possible flush. Your inner Pirate says, 'thats future you's problem' when considering how to get home from the bar if you have another drink. Your inner Pirate says, 'arg' when theres wenching to be done.
Your inner Pirate is what gets you into trouble, but personally I dont mind being in trouble as long as I have the fun of getting into it to start with. Most Americans would want to be stuck with MacGyver in case of emergency, but I would bet most would rather be stuck with Captain Jack to really get into trouble.
So next week listen to your inner Pirate. Try and be a little more pirate in your day to day life, boycott shaving every day, drink rum, say 'arg', wear an eye patch (if you dont perform tasks which are hazzardeous without proper depth perception). Be a little more rebeleous, carefree, possibly drunken. Take a risk and join the revolution baby, we have rum.
Andy. Arrrrg.
Talking like a Pirate is a lot like learning how to swear in a foreign language, you might know how to do it but you lack the opportunity to use it. But just like Christmas, once a year you get a shiny new bicycle to ride out on the street with all the other neighbourhood kids. And as a bonus being a Pirate is largely considered cool at the moment, no small thanks to Captain Jack Sparrow. Not all Pirates rate this, Peter Pan's nemesis for example is still a cautionary tale against masturbation.
There are few easily recognisably cool professions listed in relative order of coolness - Cowboy, Ninja, Spy, Pirate:
- Cowboy is always the Clint Eastwood (or the duke I suppose), Pale Rider/Or the last 20 minutes of Unforgiven, but rides off into the sunset usually alone.
- Ninja is very sneaky but in the Ro-Sham-Bo of life is always the Paper to Chuck Norris Scissors.
- Spy cannot go past the Bond, James Bond with the women, the gadgets and the bad guys. If Pirate wasnt on the list this would be at the top.
- But lastly we have Pirate and whether its a drunken metro sexual pirate or not, currently Pirate does rate highest on the cool-o-meter.
Your inner Pirate says, 'all in' when you have a pair of dueces against a possible flush. Your inner Pirate says, 'thats future you's problem' when considering how to get home from the bar if you have another drink. Your inner Pirate says, 'arg' when theres wenching to be done.
Your inner Pirate is what gets you into trouble, but personally I dont mind being in trouble as long as I have the fun of getting into it to start with. Most Americans would want to be stuck with MacGyver in case of emergency, but I would bet most would rather be stuck with Captain Jack to really get into trouble.
So next week listen to your inner Pirate. Try and be a little more pirate in your day to day life, boycott shaving every day, drink rum, say 'arg', wear an eye patch (if you dont perform tasks which are hazzardeous without proper depth perception). Be a little more rebeleous, carefree, possibly drunken. Take a risk and join the revolution baby, we have rum.
Andy. Arrrrg.
Monday, September 10, 2007
If Awesome has a Name....
Do you remember your childhood? I'm sure you do, it was back before you discovered girls, booze, gambling... before you turned say 12 and the only boobs you saw were in national geographic. So let me go all Ghost of Christmas past on you and roll back the velvet curtains.
You loved the Muppet Show and Sesame St, but without considering that Piggy was stalking Kermit and Bert and Ernie were more then room mates. You watched Battle of the Planets, before it was ripped off 17 times to make Power Rangers. You had a Hypercolour shirt, until you put it in the freezer right after the microwave.
Now fast forward to today. You are waiting on the High Definition Blu Ray version of Transformers live action movie to come out. You love playing space invaders on your phone as its chic. Apple make stuff people want to buy. And you talk to your friends who have moved overseas everyday without a telephone bill large enough for the phone company to send over heavies.
There are lots of different Generations subbed as buzz words, Gen X, Gen Y, etc. But at the end of the day the only difference between you now and you of 15-20 years ago is...You have a Wife or Girlfriend or Boyfriend or Husband or Mistress, possibly more than one from this list and not from the same category. You go to work, its like school but they paid you to go there and there is no little lunch.
But every so often now something from your childhood returns and you get a little tingle, and not in the way that you just paid $100 for a lap dance kind of way. These things pop up like a random body cavity search on your way home from a round trip to Amsterdam. And depending on experience this can be something new to be enjoyed or it can be something that makes you feel you've just been traded for a pack of cigarettes and made someones bitch.
Take Star Wars Episodes 1-3. Sure there was some redeeming value, when the first ones came out a Midnight Movie Session was when you had to tune into SBS to see the "Foreign" films. You could now afford all the cool merchandise you couldn't have when you were a kid unless you were good until Christmas. You hoped to recapture your childhood with wonder and amaze - skipping over the part why cousins can't marry in most states. And when it came out what happened? George Lucas made you his bitch, 3 times over.
Each time something like this is announced it has an element of this is going to be Legend.. wait for it ... Dary (props to you Barney). And then there's that element, that little fuzzy thing you fed after midnight and now its cutting the break lines in your soul train. You want this, you need this, but you don't want it to tarnish the memory of your favourite childhood friend leaving you feeling like you just watched Smurf porn.
For me, its the announcement of the title of a film hitting the box office next year - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Indiana Jones is by far my favourite movies of all time, a educated, rogue, archaeologist who wears a hat and hates Nazis. Indy is one of those Stereotypes, the base, the original, a staple that has been borrowed, reinvented and reused right up to today. Think Lara Croft would still be all that with only a pair of D cups and nothing to raid?
Its hard to conceive something so awesome having the possibility to suck. But we have learnt our lesson over and over again and been punished like Wile E. Coyote purchasing from Acme.com. But you know what, we are going to go on. Like good little lemmings we are going to keep touching the electrified cupcake until we die or get some sugar, because sooner or later we will have sucked up enough raw voltage that the battery will go flat.
Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus. And hopefully he can bring the gold next year even with a 14 syllable movie title.
Andy. Man just making this up as he goes.
You loved the Muppet Show and Sesame St, but without considering that Piggy was stalking Kermit and Bert and Ernie were more then room mates. You watched Battle of the Planets, before it was ripped off 17 times to make Power Rangers. You had a Hypercolour shirt, until you put it in the freezer right after the microwave.
Now fast forward to today. You are waiting on the High Definition Blu Ray version of Transformers live action movie to come out. You love playing space invaders on your phone as its chic. Apple make stuff people want to buy. And you talk to your friends who have moved overseas everyday without a telephone bill large enough for the phone company to send over heavies.
There are lots of different Generations subbed as buzz words, Gen X, Gen Y, etc. But at the end of the day the only difference between you now and you of 15-20 years ago is...You have a Wife or Girlfriend or Boyfriend or Husband or Mistress, possibly more than one from this list and not from the same category. You go to work, its like school but they paid you to go there and there is no little lunch.
But every so often now something from your childhood returns and you get a little tingle, and not in the way that you just paid $100 for a lap dance kind of way. These things pop up like a random body cavity search on your way home from a round trip to Amsterdam. And depending on experience this can be something new to be enjoyed or it can be something that makes you feel you've just been traded for a pack of cigarettes and made someones bitch.
Take Star Wars Episodes 1-3. Sure there was some redeeming value, when the first ones came out a Midnight Movie Session was when you had to tune into SBS to see the "Foreign" films. You could now afford all the cool merchandise you couldn't have when you were a kid unless you were good until Christmas. You hoped to recapture your childhood with wonder and amaze - skipping over the part why cousins can't marry in most states. And when it came out what happened? George Lucas made you his bitch, 3 times over.
Each time something like this is announced it has an element of this is going to be Legend.. wait for it ... Dary (props to you Barney). And then there's that element, that little fuzzy thing you fed after midnight and now its cutting the break lines in your soul train. You want this, you need this, but you don't want it to tarnish the memory of your favourite childhood friend leaving you feeling like you just watched Smurf porn.
For me, its the announcement of the title of a film hitting the box office next year - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Indiana Jones is by far my favourite movies of all time, a educated, rogue, archaeologist who wears a hat and hates Nazis. Indy is one of those Stereotypes, the base, the original, a staple that has been borrowed, reinvented and reused right up to today. Think Lara Croft would still be all that with only a pair of D cups and nothing to raid?
Its hard to conceive something so awesome having the possibility to suck. But we have learnt our lesson over and over again and been punished like Wile E. Coyote purchasing from Acme.com. But you know what, we are going to go on. Like good little lemmings we are going to keep touching the electrified cupcake until we die or get some sugar, because sooner or later we will have sucked up enough raw voltage that the battery will go flat.
Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus. And hopefully he can bring the gold next year even with a 14 syllable movie title.
Andy. Man just making this up as he goes.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
The Sex Pistols are not Emo!
I just recently learnt the meaning of the term "Emo". Up until that point in time I had no idea what/who/where it was and why a large percentage of the over 10 and under 20 population were referred as it. On a the list of thing I actually thought Emo was prior:
Just as we cross this point I think it is clear I truly don't care too much what people want to do, as long as they don't inflict it on others. That's not to say inflicting some things on yourself is a good idea either. Cutting yourself with razor blades as your depressed is as good an idea as strapping nitro to your genitals and going on a trampoline, you might walk away but odds say its going to end badly for you.
Now while ordinarily I would not care about yet another label to describe someone when the rest of the English language was sitting in the corner having a bit of tea and a muffin with nothing else to do, a visit to the local JB Hifi CD shelves has changed my opinion. Reggae, Pop, Rock, Emo/Punk... I'm sorry? What was that? Why is the Sex Pistols under a section that says Emo? What the?
Invention is fun, making up stuff, being the first, beacause it was there type shit is all good. But when you come up with a new term you don't have to try and nail it to everything that moves like a nymphomaniac at a brothel. Come up with something, name it, stick with it don't change other stuff which was perfectly fine before you came along. As the Dalia Llama says, 'Don't fuck with my Chi'.
Call a spade a spade, call a Uncle Toby's Muesli Bar a Uncle Toby's Muesli Bar. But for fucks sake don't put a dress on your dog Max and start calling him Aunt Lola. Things have names, use them, if you don't know what something is called... here's an idea - ask! If your on 747 going down over the ocean, need a parachute and think calling it a bowl of cornflakes is going to get someone to hand it over, go ahead. Darwinism is a wonderful thing.
Oh and for the record, Peter Parker was not Emo in Spider-Man 3.
Andy. Man still searching for a non-Emo sign off.
- What you get when an Emu and a Cow have sex.
- A new character on Sesame Street.
- Natives of the North Pole.
Just as we cross this point I think it is clear I truly don't care too much what people want to do, as long as they don't inflict it on others. That's not to say inflicting some things on yourself is a good idea either. Cutting yourself with razor blades as your depressed is as good an idea as strapping nitro to your genitals and going on a trampoline, you might walk away but odds say its going to end badly for you.
Now while ordinarily I would not care about yet another label to describe someone when the rest of the English language was sitting in the corner having a bit of tea and a muffin with nothing else to do, a visit to the local JB Hifi CD shelves has changed my opinion. Reggae, Pop, Rock, Emo/Punk... I'm sorry? What was that? Why is the Sex Pistols under a section that says Emo? What the?
Invention is fun, making up stuff, being the first, beacause it was there type shit is all good. But when you come up with a new term you don't have to try and nail it to everything that moves like a nymphomaniac at a brothel. Come up with something, name it, stick with it don't change other stuff which was perfectly fine before you came along. As the Dalia Llama says, 'Don't fuck with my Chi'.
Call a spade a spade, call a Uncle Toby's Muesli Bar a Uncle Toby's Muesli Bar. But for fucks sake don't put a dress on your dog Max and start calling him Aunt Lola. Things have names, use them, if you don't know what something is called... here's an idea - ask! If your on 747 going down over the ocean, need a parachute and think calling it a bowl of cornflakes is going to get someone to hand it over, go ahead. Darwinism is a wonderful thing.
Oh and for the record, Peter Parker was not Emo in Spider-Man 3.
Andy. Man still searching for a non-Emo sign off.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
For a good time call Jim Wallace 0402 341 755
If you haven't seen it Californication is a great show probably one of the reasons for starting this blog. Its witty, its direct and it shows intelligence far beyond what its credited for, probably due to the content sometimes bordering on soft porn. For those who are wondering soft porn is, it's the one where there isn't a pool cleaner - you know porn with plot?
With any show that has sexual references and language of which the likes we have not seen since Debbie last visited Dallas there is of course a section of the community which feel obliged to speak in outrage. The latest is Jim Wallace of the Australian Christian Lobby who describes the show as setting "a new level of bastardy".
I for one am glad that he has called for this, as there is never anything more certain for a TV shows continued existence then for someone to call for it to be banned/boycotted/or moved to a new time slot. If your a struggling new series with your head on the chopping block, maybe you too can be saved with a season final including an octogenarian with a hose and donkey set to some Barry White. For the same reason that people slow down at car accidents, Mr. Wallace has now insured a increase in viewership for this fine production.
Its not about protecting children or anything like that as the show is on at such a time that those who might be of concern about being desensitised are safely locked in the storm cellar with Pa standing watch with his shotgun. So the moral here is pretty clear - if your as sensitive to course language and sexual references as a English red headed albino is to sunlight, don't watch. If you don't like some music, don't listen to it. If you don't like pineapple on your pizza, don't order it.
I'm all for freedoms, being able to say what you want, watch what you want, listen to what you want, eat what you want - but the same thing that lets me do that is the same thing that means you get to say what you want and I can't stop you. This isn't a problem until you try and force me to say join a cult that worships a coming spaceship or Amway.
So Jim, if I can call you that. See the remote, see that big button on the top with the O and the I on it. Press it. The TV goes off, no its not witchcraft to which you must now burn your local audio visual specialist at the stake, its called choice. Use it but don't try and take it away for others. Its why you can buy pizzas with pineapple on it.
For everyone else... thats actually Jim's number up there from the ACL website.
Andy. Man of the People.
With any show that has sexual references and language of which the likes we have not seen since Debbie last visited Dallas there is of course a section of the community which feel obliged to speak in outrage. The latest is Jim Wallace of the Australian Christian Lobby who describes the show as setting "a new level of bastardy".
I for one am glad that he has called for this, as there is never anything more certain for a TV shows continued existence then for someone to call for it to be banned/boycotted/or moved to a new time slot. If your a struggling new series with your head on the chopping block, maybe you too can be saved with a season final including an octogenarian with a hose and donkey set to some Barry White. For the same reason that people slow down at car accidents, Mr. Wallace has now insured a increase in viewership for this fine production.
Its not about protecting children or anything like that as the show is on at such a time that those who might be of concern about being desensitised are safely locked in the storm cellar with Pa standing watch with his shotgun. So the moral here is pretty clear - if your as sensitive to course language and sexual references as a English red headed albino is to sunlight, don't watch. If you don't like some music, don't listen to it. If you don't like pineapple on your pizza, don't order it.
I'm all for freedoms, being able to say what you want, watch what you want, listen to what you want, eat what you want - but the same thing that lets me do that is the same thing that means you get to say what you want and I can't stop you. This isn't a problem until you try and force me to say join a cult that worships a coming spaceship or Amway.
So Jim, if I can call you that. See the remote, see that big button on the top with the O and the I on it. Press it. The TV goes off, no its not witchcraft to which you must now burn your local audio visual specialist at the stake, its called choice. Use it but don't try and take it away for others. Its why you can buy pizzas with pineapple on it.
For everyone else... thats actually Jim's number up there from the ACL website.
Andy. Man of the People.
Daddy... where do Blogs go when they die?
Being my first real blog I have been considering why blogs fail, why people tend to start them and then drift off to obscurity. I believe there are 3 types of Bloggers out there in Internet Land:
Type 1. The Commentator, the person who blogs for themselves as a creative outlet. By far the most popular type of blogger and usually the longest lasting.
Type 2. The Absorbist, the person who just blogs for the attention. Commonly the one who stops blogging right after they figure out no one else wants to read what they have to say.
Type 3. The one who likes seeing what this button does. Typically the type of individual you would not find either trusted with launch codes or operating a missile silo.
The pattern for most blogs is a few large posts quite frequently (matches so far) then less, then shorter, then perhaps some one line posts to become the electronic trash equivalent of a parking voucher given to you by a Harri Krishna on the way to work.
With this in mind I thought I should draw up some ground rules:
1. The Blog will attempt to equal the mental stimuli of a sea sponge and not an ongoing social commentary on the economic effect of desalinisation environmental politics.
2. To quote Sam & Max - No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service... this of course means Pants are optional.
3. Originality is important. If you steal something quote the source.
4. No one line blogs. Just say no to one liners.
Apart from that the floor is yours comment as you like and I will attempt to remember to keep to the basics and offer you a blog more regular then a harry potter movie release and less than a bowel movement.
Andy (Still haven't thought of a cool sign off)
Type 1. The Commentator, the person who blogs for themselves as a creative outlet. By far the most popular type of blogger and usually the longest lasting.
Type 2. The Absorbist, the person who just blogs for the attention. Commonly the one who stops blogging right after they figure out no one else wants to read what they have to say.
Type 3. The one who likes seeing what this button does. Typically the type of individual you would not find either trusted with launch codes or operating a missile silo.
The pattern for most blogs is a few large posts quite frequently (matches so far) then less, then shorter, then perhaps some one line posts to become the electronic trash equivalent of a parking voucher given to you by a Harri Krishna on the way to work.
With this in mind I thought I should draw up some ground rules:
1. The Blog will attempt to equal the mental stimuli of a sea sponge and not an ongoing social commentary on the economic effect of desalinisation environmental politics.
2. To quote Sam & Max - No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service... this of course means Pants are optional.
3. Originality is important. If you steal something quote the source.
4. No one line blogs. Just say no to one liners.
Apart from that the floor is yours comment as you like and I will attempt to remember to keep to the basics and offer you a blog more regular then a harry potter movie release and less than a bowel movement.
Andy (Still haven't thought of a cool sign off)
MySpace killed the Video Star
Is it a common truth that the more connected you are the less physically connected you are. In the modern age of mobiles, sms, blogs, myspace, facebook, google earth the more online you are the less offline. Do you upgrade from letter to phone to fax to email to blog to second life just as you have from pen and paper to ADSL2. And once you have this do you feel morally obligied to use said connection?
When looking at blogs think are they the natural evolution of a pink dear diary with a little lock which can only be read by sneaking into your sisters room and knowing which draw to rumage - is the attraction of a blog to read no more than a digital voyers daily activity as some form of in road to a personal commentary be it sexual/social/economical/comical. Or is it a need of armchair crusader for an outlet for the friends of the ABC now that Backchat is no longer on the air.
Everyone wants to be online from 4 year olds with a mobile (which we will come back at another time) to your grandmother. Everyones getting on and blogging, myspacing, second life, im'ing and just like a beachgoer on bondi at boxing day they are just looking for their own piece of realestate to call their own. Its not for exploration or achievement, there are no digital Christopher Columbus' or Neil Armstrongs here, its just Bugs Bunny popped up at Pismo Beach putting down his deckchair and running for the water.
Consider, is second life the first? If so, see that thing in the corner of the room? Thats called a door. To operate you turn the handle and push. Go through and explore. Never know, it might catch on.
Andy. (Ill think of a cool sign off later)
When looking at blogs think are they the natural evolution of a pink dear diary with a little lock which can only be read by sneaking into your sisters room and knowing which draw to rumage - is the attraction of a blog to read no more than a digital voyers daily activity as some form of in road to a personal commentary be it sexual/social/economical/comical. Or is it a need of armchair crusader for an outlet for the friends of the ABC now that Backchat is no longer on the air.
Everyone wants to be online from 4 year olds with a mobile (which we will come back at another time) to your grandmother. Everyones getting on and blogging, myspacing, second life, im'ing and just like a beachgoer on bondi at boxing day they are just looking for their own piece of realestate to call their own. Its not for exploration or achievement, there are no digital Christopher Columbus' or Neil Armstrongs here, its just Bugs Bunny popped up at Pismo Beach putting down his deckchair and running for the water.
Consider, is second life the first? If so, see that thing in the corner of the room? Thats called a door. To operate you turn the handle and push. Go through and explore. Never know, it might catch on.
Andy. (Ill think of a cool sign off later)
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