Image Ideologues

Elections. A fear peddlers paradise. An avenue for liars, muck-rakers and dog-waggers to blissfully engage in the manipulation of the masses. I find the whole process utterly depressing, not to mention extravagantly wasteful. But besides the excess, the lies, and the megalomania, the very worst aspect of new-era campaigning to my mind is the unwavering focus on the negative.

Take the upcoming American presidential election for example. Since Hilary was asked politely to leave after overstaying her welcome (not to mention drinking everyone else's beer), McCain and his cronies have been cranking up the Obama rake-o-meter, taking pot-shots at everything from his lack of experience to his alleged willingness to have an open dialogue with terrorists.

Accusations like this seem to blatantly ignore the fact that the current administration's no dialogue foreign policy (which McCain openly intends to continue with) have been a proven disaster with respect to keeping suspect powers in line. This policy, in my opinion, would be a bit like expecting someone who doesn't like you very much to quit smoking simply by telling everyone else besides them that they smell like the ashtray of a long-hauler. Then, you know, attributing them to some evil axis thing you had a dream about once.

What I find most distressing about this recent round of campaigning is McCain's assertion that Obama is trading solely on aesthetics. I mean, I guess I should expect some level of image attack coming from a guy who looks as though he shares a weekend wardrobe with Sargeant Slaughter, but there was something else that bugged me about this. I couldn't put my finger on what I found so hypocritical about it.. until I opened the paper last week.

Inside I saw a photo of McCain riding in a BlackHawk helicopter somewhere in Iraq.










It looked normal enough, to the untrained eye. But to my heightened sluethy senses, I could see that the image had been PHOTOSHOPPED. Egads!

I couldn't understand why... what on earth were they trying so hard to cover up? I knew that I wouldn't be able to rest until I found out the answer.

After days of searching, I finally caught a break. Hidden away behind JavaScript comments in the source code of the 'Girls Gone Wild' site (I like, totally swear it was the non-members section) I found THIS:










ahhh HA! I KNEW it. I totally knew it. John McCain is a clown fearin', doily nose blowin', nancy boy. Geez louise this was going to blow the entire caucus apart. Assuming I could determine exactly what a caucus was between now and talking to the media, this was going to be big. Tom Hanks big.



UPDATE: For some reason, the Obama campaign office has been ignoring my calls. I guess their machine is broken or something. It really shouldn't be too long now before I'm regarded as a left wing pin-up boy. Aaaany day now.

--
More half baked political diatribes over at humor-blogs.com. If you mention my name you get a free 'Bush is my Bitch' sticker plus a two-for-one at Wendys.. whatever the hell that means.

Train of Thought

After the copyright for my addictive apple cider (tentatively titled 'Tobbapple' due to its dangerously high tobacco content) was unfairly revoked by the patent office, I've been looking for something new to which I could focus my inventive aspirations. Not that my inventions are regularly anything more than meals utilising a single, questionable ingredient, but even a vegemite curry manages to give you the feeling that you are boldly cooking where very few idiots have dared to cook before, and that for me makes the debilitating diarrheoa almost worthwhile.

Last night though, I had a flash of inspiration that could very well be the best idea in the history of amazingly incredible ideas.

Consider these facts:

a) Germany has just introduced kite power to their sea going transport ships in an effort to offset both rising oil costs and their overall carbon emissions. Wind powered boats -- how progressive!

b) The earth has four steady jet streams located in the northern and southern hemispheres that are caused by the difference in thermal temperatures between adjacent air masses.

My proposal is this: Create two earth spanning tracks that follow the meandering line of these winds, dragging energy generating units along great distances by using the constant thermal power created by these jet streams, thereby creating a completely renewable energy source via the ground friction.

You heard me. Kite trains.

I've done all the complicated mathematics and physical modeling right here on my abacus and it all checks out, so I'm now focused more on the aesthetic possibilities.


I've prepared an artist's interpretation of what my kite trains might look like:






Pretty huh? And you wouldn't have to restrict yourself to those designs. I imagine that when crossing the Caribbean you'd want something more like this:









There are some drawbacks of course. Certain countries would be forced to bear most of the infrastructure due to the rambling path taken by the thermal winds. I suspect there would be some measure of public outcry initially, with people complaining that the kite trains created an unnecessary eyesore across the formally beautiful landscape.

Not to worry -- I'm confident that most people's concerns would disappear once they copped an eyeful of these bad boys sailing past:









Feel free to steal this idea; I recognise that trans-Atlantic, wind-powered Sesame Street characters solving the current energy crisis is an idea that is bigger than just me. It might be bigger than a lot of things. I'd say it was slightly smaller than a drug-era Elvis wandering drunk around the city of Lilliput, but hey, I'm just guessing.

Me, I'm just a small guy with big ideas, who is merely hanging around for the potential notoriety and the promise of hooking up with sweet babes.



"Hey, aren't you the guy who solved the world's energy crisis with those kites?"

"That's me babe." *wink*

"You asshole. One of your giant Kenny Koala's went berserk during a freak gust of wind and gave my dad a corked leg so bad we had to atomic wedgie him for two weeks just to take his mind off it."

"Sounds horrible. Busy Friday?"

Overly Censortive

Last week I decided to conduct some research into what was generally regarded as the worst ever Beatles song. A worthless project based on a fundamentally subjective posit some might argue, but I was not discouraged. Like most hypothetical critics the task of ignoring them was simple and besides, I had some actual work that was in dire need of procrastination. To the google-mobile!

It was pleasing to see that most people considered 'Yellow Submarine' pretty dire, but my nostalgia was irreversibly bruised upon discovering the childhood favourite 'Octopus' Garden' being slagged off with alarming frequency. In most cases I noticed that it was Ringo's involvement in the songwriting that usually lead to disaster, but on more than one occasion it was the arrogance of McCartney that resulted in an annoying single simply not having the legs. Oh dear. Nothing changes, huh?

Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da is a classic example. A disgusted Lennon left the studio halfway through the recording only to arrive back an hour later completely wasted, loudly declaring that he was "more stoned than he had ever been and that they would ever be". (referring to the other members of the band) Given that this assertion was made by the same man who had only recently identified himself as both a walrus and an eggman, this was a weighty claim indeed.

Suddenly I stumbled onto something amazing:

Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da one of many songs deemed inappropriate after the September 11 attack.

Was this on the level? I read on. Apparently a media conglomerate called Clear Channel Communications (recently suspecting of having been behind The Dixie Chicks ban) released to the media a 'comprehensive' list all those songs they considered contentious and that may cause offense to Americans in wake of the tragedy.

Let me first stress that I do not find the World Trade Center attack amusing in any way, nor do I wish to make any jokes at the expense of the families who have suffered.

What I will do though is publish some of the songs that appeared on the Clear Channel list:

Dave Matthews Band – "Crash into Me"
Jerry Lee Lewis – "Great Balls of Fire"
Animals – "We Gotta Get Out of This Place"
Foo Fighters – "Learn to Fly"

I'm not making this up.

What I find incredible is that in the interests of protecting those who suffered, this organisation publicly released a list of songs that directly references aspects of the tragedy in gory detail. I wonder how protected you'd feel having lost a loved one and then subsequently coming across this list while cruising for porn conducting valid research like I did? To my mind that's the protection equivalent of setting up a safe house for abused children in the Neverland Ranch and then distributing a recommended trouser list that promotes only those that button up at the bum.

(sorry, that one grossed me out too)

Futhermore, at 166 songs total, the list could hardly be called comprehensive. Take for example:

The Bangles – "Walk Like an Egyptian"

[eyes turn kaleidescopic]

I understand completely. We must do everything within our power to stop people walking, riding, and segwaying like Egyptians.

[shakes it off]

Is this a thinly vielded accusation at the assumed perpetrators? Curiously, I couldn't find any reference to The Cure's 'Killing an Arab'; presumably because no negative message could be discerned from that song's lyric.

What finally got me though was the inclusion of this tune:

P.O.D. – "Boom"

Why you ask? Need I remind you of such musical classics that WEREN'T on the list, such as:

Fresh Prince - "Boom, shake shake shake the room."

OR:

Paul Lekakis - "Boom Boom Boom (Let's Go Back To My Room)"


No I need not.

But then I suppose if those songs were ever going to be banned, it would have happened long before now.

Tick, tick, boom.

Cry Me a River

Blackwater Worldwide, the hapless mercenary outfit responsible for assisting the American war effort in Iraq made headlines again yesterday for, you guessed it, all the wrong reasons. You might remember their number one hit: 'I shot the Sheriff, but I didn't shoot those 17 innocent Iraqi Civilians'? Nah, me neither.

Anyway, this time Blackwater security personnel released a chemical known as CS, a substance similar to tear gas, from a hovering helicopter and nearby armored vehicle directly into a crowded Baghdad intersection because, and get this..

..the road was busy and they wanted to bypass a traffic jam.

Well why not? CS gas has only been banned by the International Convention of Chemical Weapons, who as we all know are just a bunch of pen pushing nerdburgers. I bet they don't even inhale. Pussies.

American army personal at a nearby checkpoint were also heavily affected by the gas. Afterwards the senior officer at the scene was quoted as saying:


"This was decidedly uncool and very, very dangerous."


Hold on. Five-o said freeze. Did I read that right?


"This was decidedly uncool and blah blah.."


Decidedly uncool?

Huh. Let me just run a few idle thoughts by you.

Frangipani bumper stickers
Croc Sandals
Being the only kid who forgot it was muck up day
Bike riding outfits
Farts in elevators
Engelbert Humperdinck

These are all things that strike me as being 'decidedly uncool'.

Now I could be yelling Marco at the wrong end of the pool here, but the use of a banned toxic chemical during a peaceful day in the middle of a civilian area to clear a traffic jam strikes me as.. oh I dunno... like an incredibly fucking reckless act of moronic violence?

Like I said though, I can be pretty clueless when it comes to what the kids find cool. I once wore a hat with a little propeller on the top of it because I was thought that sooner or later, I'd get up enough speed to take off. I didn't of course. Looking back, I'm just pleased that I wasn't relying on it in the event of a tear gas emergency.

I guess the lesson to be learned from all of this is that if you work near the Blackwater offices, make damn sure you car pool with them on the way to work. You certainly don't want to be caught being the red-faced blubbering guy on the street cursing the manufacturers of his propeller hat for carrying misleading advertising.

Trust me.

My Contribution to Political Discussion

Because everyone else is doing it, I've decided to jump on the proverbial band wagon and write lil' somethin' about the imminent election. Incidentally, I'm also going to start smoking, wearing skinny leg jeans, and listening to 'Emo' music -- despite only having vague notions as to what that actually entails.

Below is a conversation I had over email this afternoon with Simon The Questionably Diagnosed Aspergers Sufferer. Simon The Questionably Diagnosed Aspergers Sufferer is a guy I met at Oktoberfest this year. I advantageously stole his friend Malcolm's seat, and then his beer, but somehow managed to lay the charm on so thick that they forgot my indiscretions and let me stay. Even Malcolm didn't seem to mind much when he returned to find a lager swilling, sea shanty singing Australian stealing his, well, everything.

Basically Simon has been diagnosed with Aspergers because he's weird. And smart. He revels in the fact that this somehow vindicates his behavior. I like him because he's got an excuse to be weird.


Me:
Did you make it down to the Australian High Commission to vote this week dude?

Simon:
For the Aussie elections? I'm a New Zealander dude.

Me:
Oh yeah. Sorry. Must have already claimed you along with Crowded House.

Simon:
Yeah. It's usually rather annoying, but we're kinda thankful that you relieved us of Russell Crowe. I guess you're lending your fulsome support to John Howard? He was great as that ginger kid in "Happy Days", but I don't rate his work as a director.

Me:
I voted for Chachi. Not too sure of his fiscal management experience, but that chick he dated was dope.

Simon:
I'd vote for Chachi because he went on to star in "Diagnosis Murder". I've never actually watched the show, but I intend to, once I'm in my 70s.

Rumor has it that his "Happy Days" spin-off "Joanie Loves Chachi" was hugely popular in Korea because - so the story goes - "chachi" is Korean for penis. Seems unlikely though, as it was only shown in Korea on the American Forces Korea Network, in English without subtitles. Moreover, the Korean transliteration for the name Chachi is , which does not mean penis. However the Korean word for "penis" is the similar sounding jaji, which is spelled . It's a shame really, because it's a good story.

Me:
I really hope you've got Wikipedia open right now, weirdo.




So yeah. Happy election everybody. If I wake up and Chachi is in power, you're all getting smacks.

Politics. Show Business For Ugly People.

And there's no business like it, with the divisional lines between reality and fiction further being blurred this week by the American Supreme Court:

Not that they need encouragement, but politicians have been given the green light to lie about their opponents by the Washington state Supreme Court.

More than a dozen states have laws that make it illegal to say false things about political candidates. The laws are, in practice, aspirational. By a 5-to-4 vote Thursday, the Supreme Court in Washington state added that the law in the state was also unconstitutional.

...

[The International Herald Tribune]

Politicians begun exploiting the new ruling immediately, although no one seemed to be able to tell the difference.

I would just like to point out that although the government of a country should always be seen as a source of moral guidance, I am loathe to emulate my political contemporaries in this instance. If there's one thing that my years as a cage fighter in Brazil taught me, its to always be honest about your opponents.



Title quote taken from Jay Leno.

Help Me Rwanda

So I started my new, and very damp, life in London a few days ago. At this stage its a temporary move; I'm quite paranoid about my nephews growing up in Australia without a knowledgeable guide to watch over their 'throwing rocks at things' endeavors. Nevertheless, they will have to make do for the time being, while I attempt to come to grips with my new city.

I've been walking around London for the last few days, trying fruitlessly to ascertain my bearings. Although I'm still yet to find a place that sells decent coffee, I did manage to find an abundance of tasty vegetable somasa (not very hard in a Bangladeshi immigration epicenter), a reputable merchant of salt beef 'beigels' (why in Gods name have these been kept from me for all these years thanks Mum) and a pretty good health food store. While perusing the organic grain feed chick peas and the free range coconuts, I suddenly happened a comely bag of what I presumed to be pretty innocent coffee.



Union Hand roasted, from Rwanda. The caption reads: The EASY GOING coffee with a big grapefruit kick for breakfast time, and a soft chocolate and orange hints for a HARMONIOUS afternoon.

"Hold on," I thought, "What if I want to drink it at night!?" but then afterwards began wondering how a company could market a Rwandan coffee based on the ethos of being both easy going and harmonious. Surely the Tutsis would be concerned about this new development, I mused, assuming of course there were any left of their people to be concerned.

In such circumstances I would usually congratulate myself on the keenness of my critique, and immediately follow this by a round of shooting my mouth off to anyone who would care to listen. Such is the nature of my kind.

For some reason though, I didn't. Bemused by my lack of audacity, I decided instead to do a bit more research. Wacky, I know, but what the hell.

Look what I found on the Union Website:

Rwanda Maraba Bourbon

This clean, fruity and deeply smooth coffee comes from an amazing group of smallholder farmers in the beautiful Maraba district of southwest Rwanda and is the country's first-ever sold as a single origin. We have been working alongside the Abahuzamugambi Ba Kawa co-operative for more than five years now and have made many personal visits to help them develop the quality of their coffee and improve quality of life in their community.

Our efforts have seen a remarkable transformation in the local environment - yet none of it would be possible without the total quality produced by the farmers themselves.


Okay, so maybe I was a liiiitle presumptuous about their lack of sensitivity. I think we've all learned some lessons here; Never underestimate the annoying virtuosity of health foods stores or the fallibility of my quasi-political satire.

The Final Day

9th November, 1989. Günter Schabowski, East German propaganda minister walks into a seemingly routine press conference nursing the tail-end of a blistering hangover. His recent vacation had been a memorable one, and his head is swimming in the deluge as a result. Wading his way through a yawn inducing tirade of pre-rehearsed questions regarding the status of the German textile industry, the press conference suddenly takes a decisive and unexpected turn.

What is the nature of these questions being directed at him? How is he expected to be responding to inquiries regarding the freedom of the German people to travel? He had successfully managed to miss the press briefing this morning, a point he had congratulated himself on repeatedly since. The only thing he had been given was..

THE BRIEFING MEMO. Brilliant. Deftly removing the typed page from his briefcase and expertly positioning his stylish reading glasses, Günter begins reading, for the first time, the highlighted sections of the page before him.

"..we have decided today (um) to implement a regulation that allows every citizen of the German Democratic Republic (um) to (um) leave the GDR through any of the border crossings."

The audience is stupefied. What did he just say? Temporarily regaining his composure, one of the reporters present manages to raise his voice above the resulting media squall.

"Without a passport? WITHOUT A PASSPORT?"

Again consulting the document, Schabowski confirms that to his knowledge, the new changes would replace any previous requirement for travel documentation. His political comrades on the sidelines wince at the omission, their animated hand-to-throat motions signaling 'please stop now Günter' going obliviously unheeded by the drowning minister.

A timid reporter, who has so far been quiet for the during the conference, stands up, squeaking out his decisive, and historical, question.

"And when do these changes come into effect?"

Schabowski, only now realising both the enormity of the situation and the length he has yet to endure his poor aching head, searches in vain across the page for a date in which to attribute these changes. He finds only the date at the top of the memo, written directly next to the words 'TOP SECRET' in bold red font. He replies softly, a man defeated.

"According to my information, immediately."

Schabowski could not have known that these changes were intended to have come in over the course of years. They had only been discussed and proposed that morning, probably at the same time Günter had been swallowing his first aspirin.

Armed with this incredible story, several reporters leave the conference at once, breaking the news across East Berlin within hours. People begin to crowd checkpoints all across the city, demanding immediate access to the West. The Guards at the gate are confused; they have received no orders from their superiors regarding the wholesale immigration of East Berlin residents. Frantic calls are made, but no minister is willing to give the order to use lethal force. Yet still the gates don't budge.

His confidence bolstered by the exponentially growing numbers of his fellow countrymen, one brave Berliner, using his friend as leverage, hoists himself onto the wall. Ignoring the aggressive shouts from the guards below, he looks out over the west - a part of his city that he has never seen before. Suddenly, he feels a thudding jolt slam into his lower back, and immediately fears he has become the final casualty of his city's lethal duality.

But he remains. Far from being shot at, he has been targeted instead by a water cannon! This joyous epiphany spreads across the mob within seconds. Feeling no reservations in facing a barrage of water, people begin to scale the wall in droves. Resigning themselves to the inevitable, the border guards finally relent and open the checkpoint gates. East Berliners, for the first time in 27 years, walk freely into the West.

West Berlin news crews rush up to some of the first people across the border. Asked what they are thinking, most people echo remarkably similar sentiments.

"Crazy" they breathe, shaking their heads. "Just... crazy."




Transcribed from a story told by Andrew from New Berlin. The more important details of the story I made every attempt to check, but is still sure to contain many inaccuracies and/or poetic license.

Anabolic Rhetoric

The two day White House environmental 'summit' concluded today with President George W. Bush outlining his plan to achieve what his environmental minister James Connaughton describes as the 'aspirational' goal of reducing greenhouse gas emisions.

When asked to clarify exactly what was meant by this definition, Bush declined, saying that while he aspired to answer the question directed at him, in reality he had no intention of actually doing so.