The Melbourne Zoo has new tiger cubs. Awwwwww.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Retirement
One of my greatest irritations with sports journalism is the pre-emptive retirement story. I just don’t understand why sports journalists cant wait until a player has actually announced their retirement before they begin eulogising their career.
Endless articles have appeared in the papers today to celebrate the career of Shane Warne, but the man hasn’t announced a single thing yet. If I were him I would have hoped that those doing the celebrating would respect me enough to let me announce my retirement before they start talking about it. Sadly this is rarely the case.
Still, we knew his retirement was coming, and all I’d like to say on the matter is this: given that he is quite probably the dumbest man to have ever strolled the face of the earth, he is an absolute genius.
Photo credit: The Age
Endless articles have appeared in the papers today to celebrate the career of Shane Warne, but the man hasn’t announced a single thing yet. If I were him I would have hoped that those doing the celebrating would respect me enough to let me announce my retirement before they start talking about it. Sadly this is rarely the case.
Still, we knew his retirement was coming, and all I’d like to say on the matter is this: given that he is quite probably the dumbest man to have ever strolled the face of the earth, he is an absolute genius.
Photo credit: The Age
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Christmas Cheer is OVER
The new print ad campaign by Coke has officially turned me off Christmas.
I have been looking for a copy of it on the web all day with no luck, so you'll have to check it out for yourself (the flinders street tram stop and station are delightfully adorned at present).
All that I hate about consumerism is artfully captured in this ad.
...Come to think of it, that was probably their intention.
I have been looking for a copy of it on the web all day with no luck, so you'll have to check it out for yourself (the flinders street tram stop and station are delightfully adorned at present).
All that I hate about consumerism is artfully captured in this ad.
...Come to think of it, that was probably their intention.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Home James
I'm sorry I have been so remarkably absent. I am now back in the country and have caught up on my work, my emails, my Christmas shopping and my sleep.
I had a really wonderful time in Laos and now feel the need to tell you all about it...
Anyone thinking about going to Laos...add Viengxay to your destination list. Its a long way from anywhere and you'll need to prepare yourself for a very small plane flight or a very long drive to get there, but if you want to understand the country you are visiting then you need to go there.
Between 1964 and 1973 the leaders of the Lao community revolution, their families, the revolutionary forces soldiers, party cadre and supporters ( around 20,000 people in all) set up Viengxay in northern Laos as their base. The US government saw Laos as the key to preventing the spread of communism in Asia (Dominoes anyone?) and subsequently bombed Lao, and the Pathet Lao forces mercilessly during the daylight hours for those 9 long years. The natural terrain of the Viengxay area, small floodplains surrounded by limetone karst formations created a natural fortress, and from the safety of over 200 caves (set within the limestone karst) the communist party fought and won a war of independence against the Royal Lao Government.
The leaders of the Lao nation suffered years of struggle in those caves, withstanding US attack and then fighting a massive ground war against RLG forces. The experiences of those men undoubtedly shaped the nation that Lao became of the next 30 years and will continue to shape the nation for many governments to come. If you are war buff, a history buff, or a communism buff, Viengxay is a town which illustrates, better than any other I've seen, a nation's heritage writ large on its landscape.
Sorry, enough propaganda... I had a great time. I spent a lot of money on silk ( I could have spent twice as much without even blinking) and spent absoutely no money on anything else. I fell in love with the country and its people and developed a lifelong hatred of the country and its buses. I dot sick, and I got well. I drank way to much backyard brewed booze and ate things I know I wouldn't have if I had asked what they were. I saw turkens (the results of turkey/chicken love affairs) and churkeys (the alternate coupling) and worked with a wonderful group of talented students and Lao people to develop a new heritage interpretation plan for the caves and surrounding heritage sites. All in all a very good time.
its nice to be back, and having not been bombarded with christmas carols and bad commercials since the middle of November, I have been captured with the Christmas spirit (It might also have something to do with the cold rice and undistinguishable meat product I have eated for every meal over the last month). Bring on Christmas lunch!
I had a really wonderful time in Laos and now feel the need to tell you all about it...
Anyone thinking about going to Laos...add Viengxay to your destination list. Its a long way from anywhere and you'll need to prepare yourself for a very small plane flight or a very long drive to get there, but if you want to understand the country you are visiting then you need to go there.
Between 1964 and 1973 the leaders of the Lao community revolution, their families, the revolutionary forces soldiers, party cadre and supporters ( around 20,000 people in all) set up Viengxay in northern Laos as their base. The US government saw Laos as the key to preventing the spread of communism in Asia (Dominoes anyone?) and subsequently bombed Lao, and the Pathet Lao forces mercilessly during the daylight hours for those 9 long years. The natural terrain of the Viengxay area, small floodplains surrounded by limetone karst formations created a natural fortress, and from the safety of over 200 caves (set within the limestone karst) the communist party fought and won a war of independence against the Royal Lao Government.
The leaders of the Lao nation suffered years of struggle in those caves, withstanding US attack and then fighting a massive ground war against RLG forces. The experiences of those men undoubtedly shaped the nation that Lao became of the next 30 years and will continue to shape the nation for many governments to come. If you are war buff, a history buff, or a communism buff, Viengxay is a town which illustrates, better than any other I've seen, a nation's heritage writ large on its landscape.
Sorry, enough propaganda... I had a great time. I spent a lot of money on silk ( I could have spent twice as much without even blinking) and spent absoutely no money on anything else. I fell in love with the country and its people and developed a lifelong hatred of the country and its buses. I dot sick, and I got well. I drank way to much backyard brewed booze and ate things I know I wouldn't have if I had asked what they were. I saw turkens (the results of turkey/chicken love affairs) and churkeys (the alternate coupling) and worked with a wonderful group of talented students and Lao people to develop a new heritage interpretation plan for the caves and surrounding heritage sites. All in all a very good time.
its nice to be back, and having not been bombarded with christmas carols and bad commercials since the middle of November, I have been captured with the Christmas spirit (It might also have something to do with the cold rice and undistinguishable meat product I have eated for every meal over the last month). Bring on Christmas lunch!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Mildly Distracted
Well, last week was an important one for races wasn’t it? I won’t go into the details but donkeys won one, and Japanese horses won the other. It was pretty impressive all round, and should change the face of their respective races for a few years to come.
Sadly my attention to sporting matters has been less than undivided over the last few weeks as I have been preparing for a particularly challenging expedition to remote Laos. I won’t go into the details of what I am doing there (trust me, you’ll be bored) but I thought it might be fun to tell you a little bit about the place. I have stolen these travel photos from the interweb to give you an idea (I will try and bring back my own photos though).
I will be going here…
First I will fly into Vientiane where there will be some chatting (probably just smiling politely, as I don't speak a word of Lao) with governmenty types before flying to Xieng Khuang province, where I will see the Plain of Jars…
Then I will get on a long and windy bus ride to get to Vieng Xai/Vieng Xay/Viengsai (it all depends how you feel like spelling it that day).
Its in Hua Phan province (simmilarly irritating spelling variations are avaliable if required). Hua Phan is the province on the far north eastern bit of the map. You'll notice that Vieng Xai is not big enough to get labelled on this map (or in fact any others I could find on the interwebs).
Vieng Xai was the birthplace of the Pathet Laos, the Lao Communist Party. They took power in 1975 and have stayed there ever since. Their governmental strategy would be better described as 'authoritarian market economy' than 'communist' these days though.
Vieng Xai will probably look like this…
and this...
Think Halong Bay in Vietnam, only without all the water.
Apparently I will be eating this…
but hopefully I won’t have to spend too much time here…
Its all very nerve racking and very exciting, so you'll have to forgive me my distraction. I promise to be wholly obsessed by first world sporting concerns (The Ashes) upon my return.
And the really exciting thing is that by the time I get back this...
will be up and running. Wheee!
Note: Apologies for excess bracketing. I once read a novel which was as bracket obsessed as I have been in the above post. I threw it out.
Sadly my attention to sporting matters has been less than undivided over the last few weeks as I have been preparing for a particularly challenging expedition to remote Laos. I won’t go into the details of what I am doing there (trust me, you’ll be bored) but I thought it might be fun to tell you a little bit about the place. I have stolen these travel photos from the interweb to give you an idea (I will try and bring back my own photos though).
I will be going here…
First I will fly into Vientiane where there will be some chatting (probably just smiling politely, as I don't speak a word of Lao) with governmenty types before flying to Xieng Khuang province, where I will see the Plain of Jars…
Then I will get on a long and windy bus ride to get to Vieng Xai/Vieng Xay/Viengsai (it all depends how you feel like spelling it that day).
Its in Hua Phan province (simmilarly irritating spelling variations are avaliable if required). Hua Phan is the province on the far north eastern bit of the map. You'll notice that Vieng Xai is not big enough to get labelled on this map (or in fact any others I could find on the interwebs).
Vieng Xai was the birthplace of the Pathet Laos, the Lao Communist Party. They took power in 1975 and have stayed there ever since. Their governmental strategy would be better described as 'authoritarian market economy' than 'communist' these days though.
Vieng Xai will probably look like this…
and this...
Think Halong Bay in Vietnam, only without all the water.
Apparently I will be eating this…
but hopefully I won’t have to spend too much time here…
Its all very nerve racking and very exciting, so you'll have to forgive me my distraction. I promise to be wholly obsessed by first world sporting concerns (The Ashes) upon my return.
And the really exciting thing is that by the time I get back this...
will be up and running. Wheee!
Note: Apologies for excess bracketing. I once read a novel which was as bracket obsessed as I have been in the above post. I threw it out.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Best Category Ever
It has been a good long while since I strolled over to Cute Overload for a visit. So when I stopped by this morning I discovered my new favourite category, Cats ‘n Racks.
Here's one from Cute Overload to get your started:
Classic.
Plus I was getting jealous of Tom’s cute cats.
Here's one from Cute Overload to get your started:
Classic.
Plus I was getting jealous of Tom’s cute cats.
Shaking my head
So, Brendan Fevola is a moron.
I’m not surprised that someone got drunk and embarrassed themselves in Ireland, and I’m not surprised it was Brendan.
But did you see what Brendan said to The Age about the incident?
I’ve heard a lot of footballers make public apologies in my time, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one.
Extra credit to The Age for the classic headline on the story - 'Headlock Holiday'. Nice.
I’m not surprised that someone got drunk and embarrassed themselves in Ireland, and I’m not surprised it was Brendan.
But did you see what Brendan said to The Age about the incident?
"Obviously, I've done the wrong thing by getting him in a headlock. It was pretty stupid," he said. "And I'm just glad I didn't hit him. I would have been in more trouble if I hit him. A lot more trouble.
"It was just a headlock. If I wanted to hit him, I would have hit him. But I didn't. I just had him in a headlock."
I’ve heard a lot of footballers make public apologies in my time, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one.
Extra credit to The Age for the classic headline on the story - 'Headlock Holiday'. Nice.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
France-Soir-o-phile
I don’t want to stray to far into the wonderful Happy Guts’ territory, so please consider this an homage rather than a rip off.
Now that I’m doing this food and sport thing I thought I’d tell you about dinner on Saturday night at France-Soir. Cause it was good.
I have often visited France-Soir’s cousin, Paris Go, and always with good result, so I had high expectations. France-Soir is a little more serious than its cross river relation but I was delighted to discover the experience was as good as promised by my companions. Having already been force-fed a bucket of gin (one very large, very dry martini) prior to dinner I was delighted to see the arrival of bread to the table. And this is good bread. Not the kind of hefty, sourdough goodness you want for dipping in oil, but thick slices of a tiny french baguette with a glossy sheen and a slight sweetness.
After much um-ing and ah-ing I opted for the scallops in basil sauce for the entrée, while he across the table chose the sea perch dumplings in prawn sauce, a favourite from the Paris Go menu. The scallops were not big, but very flavourful and while the sauce wasn’t exactly laden with basil I didn’t mind. The sauce quickly became fantastic creamy soup just waiting for me at the bottom of the empty scallop shells. This was where the bread really came into its own. Soaking up every last skerrick of sauce I ate far more than my fair share and received a brief look of concern from the waiter when he refilled the bread basket. I understand the perch dumplings were also perfect as usual.
After spending far too long trying to decipher the specials menu scribbled on the mirror behind me I gave in and chose the duck l’orange. It’s a good test of a restaurant to try the dish everyone expects to see on the menu. Rogan Josh in the Indian place, falafel in the Lebanese etc. If the kitchen does the everyday dishes as well as they do the specials you know you’re in the right place. And the duck was excellent. The very generous portion of duck, resting in a thin, orangey and not at all sweet sauce was excellent and accompanied by the best french fries I have ever eaten. If only the icy chill coming through the front door hadn’t cooled them before I had a chance to eat the lot. He across the table was also very fond of his veal in a creamy sauce ( I cant remember the finer details, they were in French), and I’m guessing the eye fillet ordered by the guy next to me was also good, as I didn’t hear a word out of him until it was completely gone.
Since the old faithfuls had seen me right so far, I chose the crème brulee for dessert. He across the table chose a sickly sweet and fiendishly dark chocolate mousse. Under pressure from the evening’s second sitting congregating at the bar the crème brulee was in front of me in record time. And France-Soir came through with the goods again. With a creamy layer of custard coated in a wonderfully thick and crunch toffee crust. I really only needed to eat half. Instead I ate the lot and rolled home with a moan and a satisfied grin.
Now that I’m doing this food and sport thing I thought I’d tell you about dinner on Saturday night at France-Soir. Cause it was good.
I have often visited France-Soir’s cousin, Paris Go, and always with good result, so I had high expectations. France-Soir is a little more serious than its cross river relation but I was delighted to discover the experience was as good as promised by my companions. Having already been force-fed a bucket of gin (one very large, very dry martini) prior to dinner I was delighted to see the arrival of bread to the table. And this is good bread. Not the kind of hefty, sourdough goodness you want for dipping in oil, but thick slices of a tiny french baguette with a glossy sheen and a slight sweetness.
After much um-ing and ah-ing I opted for the scallops in basil sauce for the entrée, while he across the table chose the sea perch dumplings in prawn sauce, a favourite from the Paris Go menu. The scallops were not big, but very flavourful and while the sauce wasn’t exactly laden with basil I didn’t mind. The sauce quickly became fantastic creamy soup just waiting for me at the bottom of the empty scallop shells. This was where the bread really came into its own. Soaking up every last skerrick of sauce I ate far more than my fair share and received a brief look of concern from the waiter when he refilled the bread basket. I understand the perch dumplings were also perfect as usual.
After spending far too long trying to decipher the specials menu scribbled on the mirror behind me I gave in and chose the duck l’orange. It’s a good test of a restaurant to try the dish everyone expects to see on the menu. Rogan Josh in the Indian place, falafel in the Lebanese etc. If the kitchen does the everyday dishes as well as they do the specials you know you’re in the right place. And the duck was excellent. The very generous portion of duck, resting in a thin, orangey and not at all sweet sauce was excellent and accompanied by the best french fries I have ever eaten. If only the icy chill coming through the front door hadn’t cooled them before I had a chance to eat the lot. He across the table was also very fond of his veal in a creamy sauce ( I cant remember the finer details, they were in French), and I’m guessing the eye fillet ordered by the guy next to me was also good, as I didn’t hear a word out of him until it was completely gone.
Since the old faithfuls had seen me right so far, I chose the crème brulee for dessert. He across the table chose a sickly sweet and fiendishly dark chocolate mousse. Under pressure from the evening’s second sitting congregating at the bar the crème brulee was in front of me in record time. And France-Soir came through with the goods again. With a creamy layer of custard coated in a wonderfully thick and crunch toffee crust. I really only needed to eat half. Instead I ate the lot and rolled home with a moan and a satisfied grin.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Michael Schumacher has retired
Its worth mentioning because he was a champion of the sport and has been a household name for years and congratulations to him for being perhaps the best driver the race has ever seen.
But, frankly, I’m pleased he’s retiring. The things that made him such an excellent driver, his cool clinical manner, his steely resolve and complete lack of charisma also made him a bore to watch. His utter dominance of the sport made the sport itself boring. Hell, they even tried changing the rules to make it more interesting. With his retirement we will hopefully see a more even and therefore exciting competition.
The best moments in racing are when drivers stop acting on instruction and start acting on impulse. Craig Lowndes is good case in point. Several weeks ago he drove an almost flawless race to win Bathurst. It was impressive, but hardly exciting viewing. Yesterday however, nowhere near the front, he blew his top, did something stupid and was given a drive through penalty for his behaviour. He then proceeded to fill the radio airwaves with expletives for the rest of the race. It was great! It was interesting, unpredictable and showed the punters exactly how much he wanted to win. Schumacher rarely showed that kind of emotion and the sport was the poorer for it. Every once in a while its nice see that race car drivers are human too.
Still, good luck to Schumacher in his retirement. Hopefully he’ll volunteer to do a Top Gear hot lap, I’d like to see that!
But, frankly, I’m pleased he’s retiring. The things that made him such an excellent driver, his cool clinical manner, his steely resolve and complete lack of charisma also made him a bore to watch. His utter dominance of the sport made the sport itself boring. Hell, they even tried changing the rules to make it more interesting. With his retirement we will hopefully see a more even and therefore exciting competition.
The best moments in racing are when drivers stop acting on instruction and start acting on impulse. Craig Lowndes is good case in point. Several weeks ago he drove an almost flawless race to win Bathurst. It was impressive, but hardly exciting viewing. Yesterday however, nowhere near the front, he blew his top, did something stupid and was given a drive through penalty for his behaviour. He then proceeded to fill the radio airwaves with expletives for the rest of the race. It was great! It was interesting, unpredictable and showed the punters exactly how much he wanted to win. Schumacher rarely showed that kind of emotion and the sport was the poorer for it. Every once in a while its nice see that race car drivers are human too.
Still, good luck to Schumacher in his retirement. Hopefully he’ll volunteer to do a Top Gear hot lap, I’d like to see that!
Straying off the topic
It turns out Mike Brady is actually right! Footy does win hands down. And now that the season is finally over and the players have fled to Las Vegas and Phuket I have found myself with something of a gap in my life. There were so many empty hours in my weekend that I even the Gilmore Girls on DVD and actually turned the television over to Sky racing (bad commentary incarnate) in the hope of finding something interesting to watch. It comes as little surprise that Rory and Lorelai are still more interesting than Race 5 at Eagle Farm. Not even watching John Kosmina throttling Kevin Muscat could rouse me from my malaise. It's all so…not football.
So I think I’m going to have to start writing about something else for a bit. And not wanting to stray too far from what I know and love, I think it’s going to have to be food. So, if there are no objections I bring you:
Recipe #1 – Tofudabeast
This has become a weeknight favourite of mine as it requires virtually no forward planning, is pretty cheap, and because you can buy a couple of packets of tofu and they will live for a couple of weeks in the back of the fridge. Unlike the fish I bought the other week and forgot about.
Salt and Pepper Tofu
1 packet Firm tofu
Cornflour
Salt
Ground white pepper
Chinese 5 spice
Vegetable oil, perhaps with a squirt of sesame oil if you feel like it.
Combine enough cornflour to coat the tofu, with some* salt, pepper, and 5 spice.
Drain the tofu and dry off with some paper towel, pressing down on the tofu to squeeze out some of the excess water, then cut into bite size pieces. Keep in mind, the smaller you cut the tofu the more tasty fried bits you get on the outside.
Heat about an inch and half of oil in the bottom of a wok, toss the tofu in the cornflour mix, shake off the excess flour and drop into the hot oil. Fry in small batches, turning the tofu to brown on all sides and then drain on some paper towel.
Serve with some Asian greens (or perhaps some Australian Greens, but definitely not Democrats – far too bitter and there really isn’t enough of them to fill you up) in oyster sauce and some jasmine rice.
* ‘Some’ is an official measurement I will undoubtedly use in any and all recipes. It roughly converts to one ‘I don’t really measure things, so you’ll have to make an educated guess’. It’s usually somewhere between a teaspoon and a tablespoon if you’re going to be a pedant about it.
So I think I’m going to have to start writing about something else for a bit. And not wanting to stray too far from what I know and love, I think it’s going to have to be food. So, if there are no objections I bring you:
Recipe #1 – Tofudabeast
This has become a weeknight favourite of mine as it requires virtually no forward planning, is pretty cheap, and because you can buy a couple of packets of tofu and they will live for a couple of weeks in the back of the fridge. Unlike the fish I bought the other week and forgot about.
Salt and Pepper Tofu
1 packet Firm tofu
Cornflour
Salt
Ground white pepper
Chinese 5 spice
Vegetable oil, perhaps with a squirt of sesame oil if you feel like it.
Combine enough cornflour to coat the tofu, with some* salt, pepper, and 5 spice.
Drain the tofu and dry off with some paper towel, pressing down on the tofu to squeeze out some of the excess water, then cut into bite size pieces. Keep in mind, the smaller you cut the tofu the more tasty fried bits you get on the outside.
Heat about an inch and half of oil in the bottom of a wok, toss the tofu in the cornflour mix, shake off the excess flour and drop into the hot oil. Fry in small batches, turning the tofu to brown on all sides and then drain on some paper towel.
Serve with some Asian greens (or perhaps some Australian Greens, but definitely not Democrats – far too bitter and there really isn’t enough of them to fill you up) in oyster sauce and some jasmine rice.
* ‘Some’ is an official measurement I will undoubtedly use in any and all recipes. It roughly converts to one ‘I don’t really measure things, so you’ll have to make an educated guess’. It’s usually somewhere between a teaspoon and a tablespoon if you’re going to be a pedant about it.
Monday, October 09, 2006
The V8 Safety Car Series
I know no one else is even vaguely interested in motor sport, that’s why I spend so many lonely afternoons with only Neil Crompton as my friend, but Bathurst was on yesterday and it was good. So now I’m telling you about it.
After sitting on the couch for the better part of 8 hours I wished I had arranged a driver change of my own, but my patience and dedication (and the brief mid-afternoon nap, I only missed a couple of laps, I swear) was rewarded. Craig Lowndes and Jamie Whincup* won a race where everything went wrong for just about everyone. There a total of 10 safety car periods in the race, which means there are a lot of smashed cars and a lot of bruised drivers getting around today but everyone seems to have got away relatively unscathed.
The good thing about safety car periods, apart from the obvious safety benefits, is that it allows the viewer to take a much needed break from what is otherwise an epic journey on the couch. I did the washing… I’ll tell you about it another time, it was great, there were whites, there were colours…
The safety car also allowed me to regale my younger brother with enthralling tales of oil overflow leaks, drive through penalties, pit lane injuries and importantly for this race, clutch slip. And it gives the wonderful Neil Crompton and the rest of the commentary team the opportunity to teach me stuff about cars I never thought I’d know.
I watch and listen to a lot of sport which means I know a thing or two** about commentating. And I am willing to say here and now, Crompton is the best I have ever heard. (Yes, better than Gerard.)
I’m sure he would be completely useless commentating on anything else, but for V8 Supercars he is fabulous. He pitches his commentary at just the right level to keep the novices informed and the diehards interested. It really is an art. And he is genuinely good mates with the drivers (being an ex-driver himself), which means that there is an easy comradery when he interviews them, particularly while they are driving. He gets the drivers talking in real sentences rather than platitudes and deftly navigates the space between interviewer and friend so that both the TV audience and the drivers are happy. In summary, Neil Crompton is ace and if I could think up a good trophy name I would give him one.
So, what’s next on the sporting calendar?...
* This is the second silliest name in V8 racing. The silliest is Winterbottom.
**Thing 1) Gary Lyon and James Brayshaw should not be allowed in the same room together, Thing 2) understatement is actually an artform.
After sitting on the couch for the better part of 8 hours I wished I had arranged a driver change of my own, but my patience and dedication (and the brief mid-afternoon nap, I only missed a couple of laps, I swear) was rewarded. Craig Lowndes and Jamie Whincup* won a race where everything went wrong for just about everyone. There a total of 10 safety car periods in the race, which means there are a lot of smashed cars and a lot of bruised drivers getting around today but everyone seems to have got away relatively unscathed.
The good thing about safety car periods, apart from the obvious safety benefits, is that it allows the viewer to take a much needed break from what is otherwise an epic journey on the couch. I did the washing… I’ll tell you about it another time, it was great, there were whites, there were colours…
The safety car also allowed me to regale my younger brother with enthralling tales of oil overflow leaks, drive through penalties, pit lane injuries and importantly for this race, clutch slip. And it gives the wonderful Neil Crompton and the rest of the commentary team the opportunity to teach me stuff about cars I never thought I’d know.
I watch and listen to a lot of sport which means I know a thing or two** about commentating. And I am willing to say here and now, Crompton is the best I have ever heard. (Yes, better than Gerard.)
I’m sure he would be completely useless commentating on anything else, but for V8 Supercars he is fabulous. He pitches his commentary at just the right level to keep the novices informed and the diehards interested. It really is an art. And he is genuinely good mates with the drivers (being an ex-driver himself), which means that there is an easy comradery when he interviews them, particularly while they are driving. He gets the drivers talking in real sentences rather than platitudes and deftly navigates the space between interviewer and friend so that both the TV audience and the drivers are happy. In summary, Neil Crompton is ace and if I could think up a good trophy name I would give him one.
So, what’s next on the sporting calendar?...
* This is the second silliest name in V8 racing. The silliest is Winterbottom.
**Thing 1) Gary Lyon and James Brayshaw should not be allowed in the same room together, Thing 2) understatement is actually an artform.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
I Tell A Lie
I just remembered a personalised number plate I saw that actually made me smile rather than want to key the vehicle.
It was a black jeep with the number plate: BAA BAA.
Cute.
It was a black jeep with the number plate: BAA BAA.
Cute.
I H8 PRSNL PL8S
Like my friend Item I enjoy a good irrational hatred and one I have harboured for many a year is personalised number plates.
It is Bathurst week (Go Holden) so a thought a timely reminer might be needed, to just let everyone with a personalised number plate that your are being a dickhead and paying for the privilege.
My hatred began because our neighbour over the back fence has the numberplate ELUSIV. He is probably getting close to 40 years old, still lives with his parents and will be found in the laneway washing said car every single weekend, without fail. He is the least elusive person on the planet.
In all my years I have never seen a personalised numberplate that wasn’t stupid. A view confirmed, yet again, on the drive back from a weekend away when our carload took in the sight of a red Mercedes with the plate BYNSLL. It took us a while, but we figured it out, and quickly came to the conclusion that the guy was a WNKR.
Other stupidity includes:
XPLOZV
HLDNV.8
BIT3ME
DAHERO
PL4YER
SEXYY
LE6END
And you can have a look here to really make your blood boil. People actually make money selling these things! Arrgh.
Conclusion: Personalised number plates are stupid, unfunny and really really sleazy. People who own them are morons.
End rant.
It is Bathurst week (Go Holden) so a thought a timely reminer might be needed, to just let everyone with a personalised number plate that your are being a dickhead and paying for the privilege.
My hatred began because our neighbour over the back fence has the numberplate ELUSIV. He is probably getting close to 40 years old, still lives with his parents and will be found in the laneway washing said car every single weekend, without fail. He is the least elusive person on the planet.
In all my years I have never seen a personalised numberplate that wasn’t stupid. A view confirmed, yet again, on the drive back from a weekend away when our carload took in the sight of a red Mercedes with the plate BYNSLL. It took us a while, but we figured it out, and quickly came to the conclusion that the guy was a WNKR.
Other stupidity includes:
XPLOZV
HLDNV.8
BIT3ME
DAHERO
PL4YER
SEXYY
LE6END
And you can have a look here to really make your blood boil. People actually make money selling these things! Arrgh.
Conclusion: Personalised number plates are stupid, unfunny and really really sleazy. People who own them are morons.
End rant.
Monday, October 02, 2006
How do you feel about Jason Akermanis?
Everyone seems to have an opinion of him, but my own oscillates fairly rapidly between detest and respect.
He is an undeniable loudmouth who has managed to offend many in the footballing world (including myself) with ill-considered statements and idiotic football-show behaviour. But he also tells the truth. Never have I seen him give anything except a full and truthful account of himself, his actions and the situation as he sees it. That kind of honesty is such a rarity in public life that I can’t help but admire him. If only more were willing to risk their necks and speak their mind we might not all be in so much trouble.
He was ‘speaking out of turn’ again on The Footy Show on Thursday I gather. According to the Age saying,
The western bulldogs media department will certainly have their work cut out for them if he does end up a doggie, and I do think he could be more judicious in providing comment to anyone who asks, but I dearly hope he continues to speak the truth as he sees it and damn the consequences. I kind of hope we all do.
He is an undeniable loudmouth who has managed to offend many in the footballing world (including myself) with ill-considered statements and idiotic football-show behaviour. But he also tells the truth. Never have I seen him give anything except a full and truthful account of himself, his actions and the situation as he sees it. That kind of honesty is such a rarity in public life that I can’t help but admire him. If only more were willing to risk their necks and speak their mind we might not all be in so much trouble.
He was ‘speaking out of turn’ again on The Footy Show on Thursday I gather. According to the Age saying,
'that Simon Black would win the Lions' best and fairest, that former Lions assistant coach Daryn Cresswell had been responsible for leaking stories during the year, not him, and that despite the club being set to lose $1.5 million this year the chief executive had awarded himself a pay rise.'
The western bulldogs media department will certainly have their work cut out for them if he does end up a doggie, and I do think he could be more judicious in providing comment to anyone who asks, but I dearly hope he continues to speak the truth as he sees it and damn the consequences. I kind of hope we all do.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Grand Final Fevers
I find myself with something of a dilemma. Where shall my allegiance lie for the 2006 Grand Final?
My usual gut decision making practice has failed me and I have been forced to think rationally about it. So I decided to draw up a list of pros and cons…
West Coast Cons
They will gloat FOREVER.
The players are mutants.
They knocked the wonderful deserving doggies out of the finals race.
They have the dumbest player in the universe – Ben Cousins.
The more feral section of my family barrack for them.
Sydney Cons
They play cold and calculating footy – completely unlovable.
Last year’s sympathy support and the South Melbourne 72 year premiership drought love-in are over. This premiership is all about Sydney.
They already won the brownlow.
They won the thing just last year, give someone else a turn.
It turns out neither team had any pros.
And I still can’t decide. If anyone can give me a single good reason to pick one side over the other please let me know. Otherwise I may have to remain an impartial observer.
How boring.
My usual gut decision making practice has failed me and I have been forced to think rationally about it. So I decided to draw up a list of pros and cons…
West Coast Cons
They will gloat FOREVER.
The players are mutants.
They knocked the wonderful deserving doggies out of the finals race.
They have the dumbest player in the universe – Ben Cousins.
The more feral section of my family barrack for them.
Sydney Cons
They play cold and calculating footy – completely unlovable.
Last year’s sympathy support and the South Melbourne 72 year premiership drought love-in are over. This premiership is all about Sydney.
They already won the brownlow.
They won the thing just last year, give someone else a turn.
It turns out neither team had any pros.
And I still can’t decide. If anyone can give me a single good reason to pick one side over the other please let me know. Otherwise I may have to remain an impartial observer.
How boring.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Stupid computers
I just opened a pdf file to recieve an error message which suggested the document had, and i quote, 'too few operands'.
I had to look it up.
Wah?
I had to look it up.
Wah?
Did anyone have as much fun as Travis Johnstone at the Brownlow?
What Travis Johnstone did while on camera:
1. Wear a white tie, despite the AFL black tie policy
2. Kiss Ben Holland (his date)
3. Scull beer
4. Embarrassing himself on national television.
Check out this photo for proof.
1. Wear a white tie, despite the AFL black tie policy
2. Kiss Ben Holland (his date)
3. Scull beer
4. Embarrassing himself on national television.
Check out this photo for proof.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Brownlow
There is a very funny article in today's Age By Richard Hind on the wonderful absurdity that is Brownlow Night. I would link it, but for some reason my sad old home computer is never quite up to the task. So you'll have to go find it yourself.
Brownlow night is one of the few nights of the year when football fulfils my needs as a sports fan and a woman. And, like most, I have developed a ritual to prepare myself for the event (thankfully in my case it involves absolutely no waxing or tanning.)
First, over the course of Monday I start to get irrationally excited and feel the need to read all of the terrible half-baked journalism available on the who, what, where and wear of those in a attendance.
By 8pm when the red carpet special (gods gift to women to who don’t like blonds eg. me) begins, I can barely contain the anticipation. I love to hate the frocks. Being critical of other people’s fashion choices is one of my greatest joys in life and the Brownlow is a guilt free opportunity to indulge. They get free booze and all night parties, I get to sit at home in my grease stained trackies and criticise their fashion choices. Everyone wins!
Then they actually start to count votes. The Brownlow night is like the whole football season in fast forward, and those great little highlights packages let me relive all the exciting bits without having to watch teams flood or time-waste for half the game. For the rest of the Browlnlow these brief moments of interest will be interspersed with long tedious hours of name after name after name.
Still, once they settle into the counting its time to spot the boozehounds. Checking out each of the tables, place bets on who’s photo will be front and centre of the Herald-Sun the next day (and not because they won the thing). Safe money is usually on Billy Brownless.
By round 16 I will have fallen asleep on the couch. All that monotony is so soothing, it is some of the best sleep I get all year, well at least until the cricket starts! But by round 19 I’ll be awake again as the murmurings of the room instensify when the front-runners get a vote. The end is nigh and the winner is almost decided.
The evening will then come to an end (way past my bedtime) with platitudes about the winner’s coach, team, wife/girlfriend and mum. The winner then goes off to drink too much and then do breakfast radio interviews, while I trundle off to bed to dream of doing it all again next year.
I say, BRING IT!
Brownlow night is one of the few nights of the year when football fulfils my needs as a sports fan and a woman. And, like most, I have developed a ritual to prepare myself for the event (thankfully in my case it involves absolutely no waxing or tanning.)
First, over the course of Monday I start to get irrationally excited and feel the need to read all of the terrible half-baked journalism available on the who, what, where and wear of those in a attendance.
By 8pm when the red carpet special (gods gift to women to who don’t like blonds eg. me) begins, I can barely contain the anticipation. I love to hate the frocks. Being critical of other people’s fashion choices is one of my greatest joys in life and the Brownlow is a guilt free opportunity to indulge. They get free booze and all night parties, I get to sit at home in my grease stained trackies and criticise their fashion choices. Everyone wins!
Then they actually start to count votes. The Brownlow night is like the whole football season in fast forward, and those great little highlights packages let me relive all the exciting bits without having to watch teams flood or time-waste for half the game. For the rest of the Browlnlow these brief moments of interest will be interspersed with long tedious hours of name after name after name.
Still, once they settle into the counting its time to spot the boozehounds. Checking out each of the tables, place bets on who’s photo will be front and centre of the Herald-Sun the next day (and not because they won the thing). Safe money is usually on Billy Brownless.
By round 16 I will have fallen asleep on the couch. All that monotony is so soothing, it is some of the best sleep I get all year, well at least until the cricket starts! But by round 19 I’ll be awake again as the murmurings of the room instensify when the front-runners get a vote. The end is nigh and the winner is almost decided.
The evening will then come to an end (way past my bedtime) with platitudes about the winner’s coach, team, wife/girlfriend and mum. The winner then goes off to drink too much and then do breakfast radio interviews, while I trundle off to bed to dream of doing it all again next year.
I say, BRING IT!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Top Fun
I have a confession to make. I LOVE TOP GEAR!
I heard Debbie Enker and Jon Faine talking about it a couple of weeks ago and so I know I’m definitely not alone in my love, but still, I feel the need to shout it from the rooftops. The program is, as they say, grouse.
I don’t drive a car. In fact, I don’t even have a licence. And I get to work by the slowest and most inconvenient form of transport possible (hello Yarra Trams if you’re watching) but I absolutely love to watch those boys making a mess out of cars and bikes and field and roads and tanks and whatever else they can think of.
I love Jeremy Clarkson and his old codger wit, but what I love most of all is The Stig. The reason? Well, this is his web page bio,
Need I say more?
If you don’t know what I am talking about then I have two things to say to you,
a) Where have you been?
b) SBS 7:30pm Monday.
Also, if you know if some way I can get my hands on one of those Stig t-shirts I will marry you. (If you want me to. I’m a pretty good cook, but I do get a bit grumpy in the mornings.)
I heard Debbie Enker and Jon Faine talking about it a couple of weeks ago and so I know I’m definitely not alone in my love, but still, I feel the need to shout it from the rooftops. The program is, as they say, grouse.
I don’t drive a car. In fact, I don’t even have a licence. And I get to work by the slowest and most inconvenient form of transport possible (hello Yarra Trams if you’re watching) but I absolutely love to watch those boys making a mess out of cars and bikes and field and roads and tanks and whatever else they can think of.
I love Jeremy Clarkson and his old codger wit, but what I love most of all is The Stig. The reason? Well, this is his web page bio,
‘Some say he urinates 98 RON petrol, and that he can smell corners. No one knows when the Stig was born, or how. But we do know why he was placed upon the Earth. To drive quickly. He has a penchant for prog rock, and rumour has it, likes his eggs sunny side up.’
Need I say more?
If you don’t know what I am talking about then I have two things to say to you,
a) Where have you been?
b) SBS 7:30pm Monday.
Also, if you know if some way I can get my hands on one of those Stig t-shirts I will marry you. (If you want me to. I’m a pretty good cook, but I do get a bit grumpy in the mornings.)
Monday, September 18, 2006
Sports Mania
The guilt I feel for neglecting to post a single thing lately is tempered by the fact that as far as I know, I’m the only one who reads this blog. But I do have an excuse for my tardiness. I have immersed myself in sport.
First there is the finals. Poor doggies, poor dees, but what were they going to do, both were playing Western Australian mutants. What exactly do they feed them over there to make their coats so shiny?
Then there was the Moto GP. Motor sport is my secret indulgence. Well, not so secret any more. Those boys are so strange, they are meant to be these super duper motor heads but instead they are like little jockeys with even sillier clothes. Valentino’s run of greatness continues down at Phillip Island.
And last night I tried to go see Melbourne Victory play. Not that I could get in, the place was sold out and as we walked despondently away from the stadium, hordes of people continued to stream towards it. Victory now has the very happy problem of not having a stadium big enough for its crowd. In the long term they need to find a new home or they will find themselves missing out on some lovely revenue. Telstra Dome is looking pretty empty right about now. In the short term though, they could get rid of the $45 premium tickets. I’m sorry you are a mug if you pay that much money to see 90 minutes of regular season football.
And the festival of sporting goodness continues. Still to come is more footy finals, Bathurst, and hopefully one day, a seat a Melbourne Victory game. Ooh, and then there is cricket soon…
First there is the finals. Poor doggies, poor dees, but what were they going to do, both were playing Western Australian mutants. What exactly do they feed them over there to make their coats so shiny?
Then there was the Moto GP. Motor sport is my secret indulgence. Well, not so secret any more. Those boys are so strange, they are meant to be these super duper motor heads but instead they are like little jockeys with even sillier clothes. Valentino’s run of greatness continues down at Phillip Island.
And last night I tried to go see Melbourne Victory play. Not that I could get in, the place was sold out and as we walked despondently away from the stadium, hordes of people continued to stream towards it. Victory now has the very happy problem of not having a stadium big enough for its crowd. In the long term they need to find a new home or they will find themselves missing out on some lovely revenue. Telstra Dome is looking pretty empty right about now. In the short term though, they could get rid of the $45 premium tickets. I’m sorry you are a mug if you pay that much money to see 90 minutes of regular season football.
And the festival of sporting goodness continues. Still to come is more footy finals, Bathurst, and hopefully one day, a seat a Melbourne Victory game. Ooh, and then there is cricket soon…
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Places of Pain and Shame
I spent yesterday in a very long but equally interesting seminar on the heritage of ‘places of pain and shame’. There is book of case studies to be published next year and the seminar was a chance for the authors to test their ideas out on each other and anyone else interested in listening.
It is one of the most challenging areas of heritage practice and heritage theory. What do we do with sites of pain and shame? and how do we do it? How do we we satisfy the needs of both global and local audiences and respect the memory of those who have dies at these sites?
Two examples are Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland and Toul Sleng in Cambodia, these are sites of death, mass murder and torture, and they are also two of the biggest tourist attractions in their respective countries.
These sites are retained for people to see them. To remember. But reconciling that with the busload of tourists who stream through the gates is difficult. The prisoner reception building at Auschwitz is now the visitor reception centre complete with ticket book, kiosk and toilets centre. Is that respecting the memories of the people whose lives were decided in that place? Or doesn’t it matter as long as the people who visit Auchwitz-Birkenau leave with a better understanding of what happened there?
And what of the people who live on the boundary of Auschwitz? The local community who have to live out their daily lives under the scrutiny of the international community, ready to judge new development as disrespectful, no matter how necessary to the town’s survival. Or the squatters on the grounds of Toul Sleng, who have no money, no land, no place to live and no way out of a devastating poverty cycle and now find themselves living on the grounds where many, many people were imprisoned and killed.
I don’t know what the answers to these questions are, but I do know that in spite of the challenges of presenting these sites to the masses, of the desire to forget or move on, retaining these sites is essential for reminding all people how easily violence on this scale can take place and how easily the world can turn a blind eye to it.
It is one of the most challenging areas of heritage practice and heritage theory. What do we do with sites of pain and shame? and how do we do it? How do we we satisfy the needs of both global and local audiences and respect the memory of those who have dies at these sites?
Two examples are Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland and Toul Sleng in Cambodia, these are sites of death, mass murder and torture, and they are also two of the biggest tourist attractions in their respective countries.
These sites are retained for people to see them. To remember. But reconciling that with the busload of tourists who stream through the gates is difficult. The prisoner reception building at Auschwitz is now the visitor reception centre complete with ticket book, kiosk and toilets centre. Is that respecting the memories of the people whose lives were decided in that place? Or doesn’t it matter as long as the people who visit Auchwitz-Birkenau leave with a better understanding of what happened there?
And what of the people who live on the boundary of Auschwitz? The local community who have to live out their daily lives under the scrutiny of the international community, ready to judge new development as disrespectful, no matter how necessary to the town’s survival. Or the squatters on the grounds of Toul Sleng, who have no money, no land, no place to live and no way out of a devastating poverty cycle and now find themselves living on the grounds where many, many people were imprisoned and killed.
I don’t know what the answers to these questions are, but I do know that in spite of the challenges of presenting these sites to the masses, of the desire to forget or move on, retaining these sites is essential for reminding all people how easily violence on this scale can take place and how easily the world can turn a blind eye to it.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Good News
While doing some research into successful projects encouraging Indigenous students into education I encountered this outrageously popular program over in WA.
The Clontarf Foundation began as a football academy at Clontarf Aboriginal School set up Gerard Neesham to give boys the motivation and self belief to go to, and stay at, school. The academy was so successful at Clontarf it has now been expanded to 6 other locations and will probably grow to 11 by 2008. It began with just 25 kids in 2000 and now the academies have a combined enrolment of 400.
The success of this program absolutely astounds me. All I hear from the media is the bad and the hopeless, but here is an example of a project that works with an idea so simple it can continue to expand and develop in the future.
I’d like to see more of the successful programs like this one being reported and supported by the media, and I’d like to hope this kind of success can be replicated in other non-football programs as well.
Monday, September 04, 2006
...and so it begins/ends
My darling football team, which perhaps did not finish the season on the strongest possible note will now face off against my friend Helen’s football team on Friday night.
I fear we will have to tiptoe around each other for the next week (and probably the week after depending on who wins).
I hate/love finals. It is so very stressful.
I fear we will have to tiptoe around each other for the next week (and probably the week after depending on who wins).
I hate/love finals. It is so very stressful.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tickets turn to Ashes
Good on Cricket Australia for trying to stop scalpers. I applaud their moves to stop scalpers from preventing ordinary cricket fans buying tickets to see the match, and I think it will stop scalpers getting such good mark-ups on their tickets in future.
But, I don’t applaud this: "CA will not disclose which seats have been targeted meaning that fans who obtained tickets on eBay will not know if theirs is valid until they arrive at the turnstiles." The Age.
So here’s the scenario, like many thousands of people you missed out on Ashes tickets (because the scalpers got in first) and so you had to resort to getting them on eBay. You are now going to punished three different ways,
1) you will have paid well over the ticket price to get in,
2) when you get to the ground you find you dont get to see the cricket at all,
3) you are publicly shamed when the little light goes red instead of green. Just because you wanted to go to the cricket.
If it is true that CA feels "It is very important to us that normal fans have access to tickets at the prices we set. Otherwise we are at risk of losing our connection to the people," Then they should allow those people who have bought the cancelled tickets the opportunity to present them before the game and to buy a new valid ticket at the gate price from CA. After all it is the normal fans that are forced to buy the tickets from scalpers in the first place.
And then they should impose a maximum number of tickets that can be purchased by one individual. Lets say 4 tickets per person. That will end professional scalping for good.
But, I don’t applaud this: "CA will not disclose which seats have been targeted meaning that fans who obtained tickets on eBay will not know if theirs is valid until they arrive at the turnstiles." The Age.
So here’s the scenario, like many thousands of people you missed out on Ashes tickets (because the scalpers got in first) and so you had to resort to getting them on eBay. You are now going to punished three different ways,
1) you will have paid well over the ticket price to get in,
2) when you get to the ground you find you dont get to see the cricket at all,
3) you are publicly shamed when the little light goes red instead of green. Just because you wanted to go to the cricket.
If it is true that CA feels "It is very important to us that normal fans have access to tickets at the prices we set. Otherwise we are at risk of losing our connection to the people," Then they should allow those people who have bought the cancelled tickets the opportunity to present them before the game and to buy a new valid ticket at the gate price from CA. After all it is the normal fans that are forced to buy the tickets from scalpers in the first place.
And then they should impose a maximum number of tickets that can be purchased by one individual. Lets say 4 tickets per person. That will end professional scalping for good.
Democratic process?
Thursday is the day I pretend I am going to work from home. So I stay in bed too long and listen to talkback radio until I’m so angry I have to get up. Then I work from home.
This morning Jon Faine was talking about the recent right-to-life campaign against Steve Bracks and Rob Hulls, which has consisted of a massive flyer drop of a letter and graphic drawings of partial birth abortion. The letter suggests that Steve Bracks wants to sneak into the homes of all pregnant women and kill their babies while they are sleeping, or something to that effect.
Anyway, Faine went particularly hard at a woman from the ALP women’s lobby this morning when she suggested that while she advocated removing abortion from the crimes act (what this debate is actually about) she did not have alternative legislation to present. He suggested that she was either naive or ignorant or both for proposing the change without having a ironclad legislative alternative. Which is just plain silly. Plenty of lobbyists advocate change without coming up with the laws themselves, because that’s what the government are for. Perhaps I am missing something but I always thought it (democracy) went like this, the public vote in politicians to represent their views and enact laws which best reflects those views.
NOT public changes mind on important issue, writes up whole new load of legislation and consults with itself, before handing everything ready to go to the politicians (who spent the morning having high tea at the Windsor one presumes). Am I wrong?
This morning Jon Faine was talking about the recent right-to-life campaign against Steve Bracks and Rob Hulls, which has consisted of a massive flyer drop of a letter and graphic drawings of partial birth abortion. The letter suggests that Steve Bracks wants to sneak into the homes of all pregnant women and kill their babies while they are sleeping, or something to that effect.
Anyway, Faine went particularly hard at a woman from the ALP women’s lobby this morning when she suggested that while she advocated removing abortion from the crimes act (what this debate is actually about) she did not have alternative legislation to present. He suggested that she was either naive or ignorant or both for proposing the change without having a ironclad legislative alternative. Which is just plain silly. Plenty of lobbyists advocate change without coming up with the laws themselves, because that’s what the government are for. Perhaps I am missing something but I always thought it (democracy) went like this, the public vote in politicians to represent their views and enact laws which best reflects those views.
NOT public changes mind on important issue, writes up whole new load of legislation and consults with itself, before handing everything ready to go to the politicians (who spent the morning having high tea at the Windsor one presumes). Am I wrong?
Monday, August 28, 2006
A-League of their own
As is often the case on Friday night I drink too much, and too quickly. This Friday past this behaviour resulted in a long, vocal and ill-advised argument about the threat, or lack thereof, that soccer poses to the glorious game of AFL. This has got me thinking – now slightly more rationally than on Friday night.
Its important to disclose that have long been a fan of the round ball game, and will admit to standing* more than once in the outer at Bob Jane Stadium in the torrential summer rain or scorching heat watching the boys of the blue and white flog their guts out. Yes that right, I am South Melbourne Hellas Supporter. It is also important to note that the greatest years of my obsession were the most successful years in the club’s long history. We won two grand finals, took part in another and frequently found itself near or at the top of the table. South Melbourne Supporters expected results.
I feel that this gives me at least a little authority with which to say, The football SUCKED. It was bad, defensive, boring to watch and the structure of the competition was dissatisfying to both players and supporters. But what else can be expected of players who train twice a week and spent the rest of their time behind the counter at the local servo? The clubs frequently lost money and the only publicity the league ever got was when the mounted police were called in to stop a riot or there was particularly spectacular flare thrown against the night sky (news is all about the pictures after all). For god sake, patrons were not allowed to keep the cap of the soft drink bottle they bought just in case they then used it as a missile!
So, it is with a healthy amount of scepticism that I approach the A-league. I will concede that many of the worst problems encountered by the old competition have be solved. For instance the clubs and competition now have money. They have a healthy, wealthy backer with lots of rich friends who are now willing to clubs’ calls. The TV deal and the sponsorship packages the NSL only dreamt about are now a reality.
Their web pages are flashy and attendances** are way up. Undoubtedly the game is a much healthier package. But is the soccer any better?
A quick survey of the team list finds that many of the old NSL coodabeens are still running around, and now they are backed up by washed up old international players coming trying to eek another years salary out of the game. And then there is the ridiculous media exercise of the ‘trio from rio’. So how much has really changed on the park? Is the football good?
I am willing to reserve judgement on the skill level of the games until I have seen more, but I fail to see how this competition can come close to the heights of footballing skill that supporters came to expect over the course of the World Cup. Until it does that, how can it possibly challenge AFL as the ntional game?
*As there was no seating yet installed
**at the first round of the season attendances were:
NZ 7,000
VIC 15,000
SYD, 19,000
PERTH 20,000
Its important to disclose that have long been a fan of the round ball game, and will admit to standing* more than once in the outer at Bob Jane Stadium in the torrential summer rain or scorching heat watching the boys of the blue and white flog their guts out. Yes that right, I am South Melbourne Hellas Supporter. It is also important to note that the greatest years of my obsession were the most successful years in the club’s long history. We won two grand finals, took part in another and frequently found itself near or at the top of the table. South Melbourne Supporters expected results.
I feel that this gives me at least a little authority with which to say, The football SUCKED. It was bad, defensive, boring to watch and the structure of the competition was dissatisfying to both players and supporters. But what else can be expected of players who train twice a week and spent the rest of their time behind the counter at the local servo? The clubs frequently lost money and the only publicity the league ever got was when the mounted police were called in to stop a riot or there was particularly spectacular flare thrown against the night sky (news is all about the pictures after all). For god sake, patrons were not allowed to keep the cap of the soft drink bottle they bought just in case they then used it as a missile!
So, it is with a healthy amount of scepticism that I approach the A-league. I will concede that many of the worst problems encountered by the old competition have be solved. For instance the clubs and competition now have money. They have a healthy, wealthy backer with lots of rich friends who are now willing to clubs’ calls. The TV deal and the sponsorship packages the NSL only dreamt about are now a reality.
Their web pages are flashy and attendances** are way up. Undoubtedly the game is a much healthier package. But is the soccer any better?
A quick survey of the team list finds that many of the old NSL coodabeens are still running around, and now they are backed up by washed up old international players coming trying to eek another years salary out of the game. And then there is the ridiculous media exercise of the ‘trio from rio’. So how much has really changed on the park? Is the football good?
I am willing to reserve judgement on the skill level of the games until I have seen more, but I fail to see how this competition can come close to the heights of footballing skill that supporters came to expect over the course of the World Cup. Until it does that, how can it possibly challenge AFL as the ntional game?
*As there was no seating yet installed
**at the first round of the season attendances were:
NZ 7,000
VIC 15,000
SYD, 19,000
PERTH 20,000
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
more than a little disturbed
For Christmas last year (yes I know that was a while ago now) my lovely significant other gave me a book called Do Not Disturb: Is the Media Failing Australia, a compilation of a series of essays by famous and interesting journalism and academic types. ‘What a romantic gift!’ I hear you say. Well, it gets worse, his mother gave him a copy for Christmas as well.
Sorry, I digress. I finally picked up this book this morning for the tram ride to work and found it an unpleasant but worthwhile read. While I have only read the first piece by Eric Beecher I confess to finding it a very enlightening read, not so much because it is saying something I didn’t already know about media, but because it is drawing connections between problems I had otherwise thought of as separate. Suffice to say I am finding it all very interesting in light of the bits and pieces coming out of the Australian and New Zealand School of Government’s Media and Government dinner that was held last night.
Crikey never seem to stop banging on about the media ownership laws, and while I always agreed with them in principle, I now know the laws are only going mean more of the same or worse from the media outlets in Australia. I dont know what the answer is, but I would like one if anyone has any suggestions?
Sorry, I digress. I finally picked up this book this morning for the tram ride to work and found it an unpleasant but worthwhile read. While I have only read the first piece by Eric Beecher I confess to finding it a very enlightening read, not so much because it is saying something I didn’t already know about media, but because it is drawing connections between problems I had otherwise thought of as separate. Suffice to say I am finding it all very interesting in light of the bits and pieces coming out of the Australian and New Zealand School of Government’s Media and Government dinner that was held last night.
Crikey never seem to stop banging on about the media ownership laws, and while I always agreed with them in principle, I now know the laws are only going mean more of the same or worse from the media outlets in Australia. I dont know what the answer is, but I would like one if anyone has any suggestions?
Monday, August 21, 2006
Its all a question of narratives and themes
John Hirst has an illuminating article in The Age today, describing what he sees as the outcome of last week’s much discussed history forum.
The most interesting section is when he describes that ‘in teaching, the place to begin is with the questions; the narrative is the end; not the beginning.’ So, the forum decided that history teaching will now revolve around asking and answering important historical questions. And Hirst gives us some examples,
As far as I can tell these are what are usually called ‘themes’ in the study of history. I should know, I’ve studied quite a few of them myself. But as I understand it the Prime Minister does not like ‘themes’ but he does like‘ narratives’. So we shall call them narratives from now on.
Everyone else happy to agree to that? I am.
The most interesting section is when he describes that ‘in teaching, the place to begin is with the questions; the narrative is the end; not the beginning.’ So, the forum decided that history teaching will now revolve around asking and answering important historical questions. And Hirst gives us some examples,
How did a convict society change into a free society?
What were the relations between Aborigines and settlers?
Why did Australia become so prosperous?
What were the relations between men and women?
What were the plans and dreams for Australian society?
As far as I can tell these are what are usually called ‘themes’ in the study of history. I should know, I’ve studied quite a few of them myself. But as I understand it the Prime Minister does not like ‘themes’ but he does like‘ narratives’. So we shall call them narratives from now on.
Everyone else happy to agree to that? I am.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
As easy as ABC
It appears that sheer bloody mindedness (and a hefty whack of cash) will mean that the ABC will most definitely have a decent share of the radio broadcasting pie when the new deals with the AFL are ironed out.
I love Gerard Whateley! Perhaps a little more than a grown woman with a perfectly lovely boyfriend should. But he’s just so absolutely wonderful and knowledgeable and is able to humour just about anyone including Red Symonds and wasn’t he cute when he began a little baby reporter on Channel 10, and then hit the big time doing the tips on Beyond the Boundary (kiddy football show in Saturday afternoon - you’ll be pleased to know the tipping section is now done by a dog). And earlier this year he said very clever things about the sham that was this years Tour de France on Offsiders on Sunday mornings and then didn’t even gloat about it when he was right. And he’s cute too, in a retired jockey kind of way. Sorry I digress…
Gerard and the rest of the team have waged a wonderfully successful campaign (with the support of the always enthusiastic ABC radio listeners), and have made it abundantly clear the AFL that they were being stupid to give the ABC the scrapings of the bottom of the broadcasting barrel. I particularly like the fact that the ABC have started podcasting the last quarters of the best grand finals for the last 30 years, just to illustrate to the AFL what they would be giving up. But the coup de grace was getting the listeners of Saturday football to call and sms in to tell them were they were listening from, showing the AFL they’d be mugs to give up the kind of coverage the ABC can offer them.
So, Yay to the ABC for showing the AFL that’s its not always about money and for making sure that I don’t have to listen to the knobs in 3AW and Triple M to get my football fix. Oh, and a special hello to Gerard too.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Stick damn mud, stick.
Robert Walls is unpleasant. I don’t like the way he commentates and I don’t like the way he writes. Without trying to sound like a Sydney club official (I think the commentators are right, Sydney do play ugly football, particularly when they are beating my team on the weekend), his commentary is always negative and it isn’t nice to listen to. It seems to me the commentary of someone who would rather be doing than talking about it.
His recent article on the Geelong football club certainly doesn’t pull any punches, and what he says about their playing is largely true. To the outside world the players do need a good kick up the caboose.
His article is one of many in recent to carve up the cats in the last few weeks, and I for one would appreciate it if all of them would confine their commentary to the football at hand. I have a couple of friends with a serious love of the cattars and I must admit their love is infectious. This makes it very hard to watch as commentator after washed-up-ex-footballing-hack, writes really soul destroying things about them. The criticism of play I can handle, it’s the thinly veiled innuendo about the coach that I will not.
I don’t think there is a single AFL fan left in Melbourne that hasn’t heard the rumours, but there is a reason why they are still only that. No newspaper has got enough evidence to prove anything, and until they do Bomber gets reasonable doubt just like everyone else (David Hicks excluded, obviously). I don’t want to hear how he’s ‘going through hell’ or ‘lost a lot of weight in the off season’, it is deeply unfair and is clearly now damaging the club. Stop it. End of subject.
His recent article on the Geelong football club certainly doesn’t pull any punches, and what he says about their playing is largely true. To the outside world the players do need a good kick up the caboose.
His article is one of many in recent to carve up the cats in the last few weeks, and I for one would appreciate it if all of them would confine their commentary to the football at hand. I have a couple of friends with a serious love of the cattars and I must admit their love is infectious. This makes it very hard to watch as commentator after washed-up-ex-footballing-hack, writes really soul destroying things about them. The criticism of play I can handle, it’s the thinly veiled innuendo about the coach that I will not.
I don’t think there is a single AFL fan left in Melbourne that hasn’t heard the rumours, but there is a reason why they are still only that. No newspaper has got enough evidence to prove anything, and until they do Bomber gets reasonable doubt just like everyone else (David Hicks excluded, obviously). I don’t want to hear how he’s ‘going through hell’ or ‘lost a lot of weight in the off season’, it is deeply unfair and is clearly now damaging the club. Stop it. End of subject.
Ready arms
It appears that the history war is hotting up…again.
I consider myself a historian, not because I have a swag of books to my name, but because by both accident and design that’s the way my brain works. I love history and I think that if you teach it with passion and engagement you can encourage that passion and engagement in your student, but I know that is far from easy.
As the Howard government calls together a history summit this week, I would like to add my significantly smaller voice to that of Stuart Macintyre, and say that I like nothing more than to see history teaching and learning on the national agenda. But, I shall wait with baited breath to hear the results of this summit. With only 3 school teachers invited it is clear that school teaching is not the real agenda. The Howard government needs a win this week, and I can’t help but think that they might fall back on that favourite old ditty, national identity.
We shall see.
I consider myself a historian, not because I have a swag of books to my name, but because by both accident and design that’s the way my brain works. I love history and I think that if you teach it with passion and engagement you can encourage that passion and engagement in your student, but I know that is far from easy.
As the Howard government calls together a history summit this week, I would like to add my significantly smaller voice to that of Stuart Macintyre, and say that I like nothing more than to see history teaching and learning on the national agenda. But, I shall wait with baited breath to hear the results of this summit. With only 3 school teachers invited it is clear that school teaching is not the real agenda. The Howard government needs a win this week, and I can’t help but think that they might fall back on that favourite old ditty, national identity.
We shall see.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Shooting off at the mouth
I am sick of people in the public eye saying something they really shouldn’t, like say our friend Mel, and then denying they think that way at all in an apology press release.
Dean Jones has just been sacked for calling a muslim South African cricket player a terrorist on air, and then in his press release said this…
That is quite clearly just not true. The reality is neither Mel nor Dean would have said the things they did if they didn’t think them. It does nothing to advance the causes of social and religious harmony when those who hold prejudice just deny it, get drunk (or into a commentary box) and say offensive things, and then deny it again.
Perhaps by discussing prejudice, rather than denying it we might go some way to actually solving it. But not while a lie in a press release is all that is required to sweep the matter under the carpet.
Dean Jones has just been sacked for calling a muslim South African cricket player a terrorist on air, and then in his press release said this…
"Everyone needs to get away from perpetuating the myth, publicly and privately, that beards associated with the Muslim faith are somehow suspicious, and I intend to do exactly that."
"It does not represent who I am, how I think or what I believe."
That is quite clearly just not true. The reality is neither Mel nor Dean would have said the things they did if they didn’t think them. It does nothing to advance the causes of social and religious harmony when those who hold prejudice just deny it, get drunk (or into a commentary box) and say offensive things, and then deny it again.
Perhaps by discussing prejudice, rather than denying it we might go some way to actually solving it. But not while a lie in a press release is all that is required to sweep the matter under the carpet.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The ubiquitous incident
Nothing gets under my goat* like the news of footballers making arses of themselves and causing physical harm to others in the wee hours of the morning when they should be tucked in bed at home dreaming of grand finals. More clinical study needs to be done into the effects of increased levels of testosterone, adrenaline and stupidity in the body, but anecdotal evidence suggests this is the outcome.
However, despite often getting on my high horse about footballers and abuse on a regular basis I did find myself rather amused by this excerpt from a news article on the misdeeds of NRL player Bruno Cullen,
Ha, ha, ha.
I mean, poor woman I hope she is alright.
Ha, ha, ha…
*(a)Expression of inarticulateness dreamed up by my significant other and some of his former housemates, spread it around, see if anyone notices anything odd.
(b)A misuse of the English language particularly relevant to a discussion of footballers.
However, despite often getting on my high horse about footballers and abuse on a regular basis I did find myself rather amused by this excerpt from a news article on the misdeeds of NRL player Bruno Cullen,
"Seymour is alleged to have headbutted a woman while trying to kiss her on the dance floor at the Regatta Hotel at Toowong in Brisbane's inner-west early on Monday morning."
Ha, ha, ha.
I mean, poor woman I hope she is alright.
Ha, ha, ha…
*(a)Expression of inarticulateness dreamed up by my significant other and some of his former housemates, spread it around, see if anyone notices anything odd.
(b)A misuse of the English language particularly relevant to a discussion of footballers.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
What’s in a name?
Ever since seeing that horrendous Robert Redford movie about TV journalism with Michelle Pfeiffer playing ‘Tally Atwater’ I have been increasingly amused by the names of Australia’s television journalists and anchors.
A list of my favourites include:
Mignon Henne (as in Filet Mignon, juvenile humour I know but it makes me laugh. There was also a highly amusing incident involving her finger getting bitten by a horse during a live broadcast. Classic television.)
Harry Potter (I find it very difficult to take a journalist seriously when I can only imagine him donning an invisible cloak.)
And my very favourite:
Leith Mulligan (Say it out loud. It makes me giggle. I can’t fully explain why.)
Further suggestions very welcome.
A list of my favourites include:
Mignon Henne (as in Filet Mignon, juvenile humour I know but it makes me laugh. There was also a highly amusing incident involving her finger getting bitten by a horse during a live broadcast. Classic television.)
Harry Potter (I find it very difficult to take a journalist seriously when I can only imagine him donning an invisible cloak.)
And my very favourite:
Leith Mulligan (Say it out loud. It makes me giggle. I can’t fully explain why.)
Further suggestions very welcome.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Brutally Confused
Heritage Victoria has listed the Harold Holt Swimming Pool and despite a genuine interest in heritage preservation I cannot really get worked up about it. As every news article in the last two days has suggested, it was highly amusing that it was named after a Prime Minister thought drowned off Point Nepean but aside from that I had no personal attachment to it and couldn't really care if it was preserved or not.
What I can get worked up about is the fact that the heritage profession continues to make the same media blunders and continually misunderstand their own reasons for giving something heritage protection. I heard a Heritage Victoria representative on the radio defending the decision to put it on the register on the grounds of its brutalist architecture. Now that's all well and good, but when Jon Faine began to argue it was still too ugly to be preserved she began to argue that the pool was significant as a recreational place for many people. Which is it?
Something can be heritage listed on the basis of its architectural significance or its social significance, but if it has been listed purely for its architectural significance (as the media reports suggest) then you cannot use its social significance to justify it.
Often the reasons for heritage listing are slippery ones, based more upon emotion than hard facts and the result is a convoluted mixture of architectural, social and historical significance that ends up sounding more like Dennis Denuto's 'It's the vibe of the thing' than it does a logical justification for heritage listing.
Wondering how badly confused that justification can get? Check out the Statement of Significance for Waverley Park...
What I can get worked up about is the fact that the heritage profession continues to make the same media blunders and continually misunderstand their own reasons for giving something heritage protection. I heard a Heritage Victoria representative on the radio defending the decision to put it on the register on the grounds of its brutalist architecture. Now that's all well and good, but when Jon Faine began to argue it was still too ugly to be preserved she began to argue that the pool was significant as a recreational place for many people. Which is it?
Something can be heritage listed on the basis of its architectural significance or its social significance, but if it has been listed purely for its architectural significance (as the media reports suggest) then you cannot use its social significance to justify it.
Often the reasons for heritage listing are slippery ones, based more upon emotion than hard facts and the result is a convoluted mixture of architectural, social and historical significance that ends up sounding more like Dennis Denuto's 'It's the vibe of the thing' than it does a logical justification for heritage listing.
Wondering how badly confused that justification can get? Check out the Statement of Significance for Waverley Park...
Friday, July 14, 2006
AFL WORLD OF ADVERTISING
I figured I might as well begin this little sojourn into the wonderful world of the electric internet with a confession. I have been to AFL World.
During a lunch break this week an equally footballing tragic friend of mine and I made the trek and paid over the hefty attendance fee to be perhaps unsurprisingly disappointed.
I’m not really sure if you call it a museum, an entertainment centre or as their advertising suggests a ‘sensation’ but no amount of Naomi Klein-style homework could prepare me for the bombardment of advertising and product placement that awaited me on the other side of the lift doors.
The exhibition was inseparable from its advertising and the only section to be sans-advertising was the woefully inadequate Hall of Fame, which had bee clearly neglected because it could not provide an advertising windfall. AFL World is less a ‘sensation’ and more a sponsor’s dream.
The place isn’t all bad I guess, as long as you took a smaller football-loving relative along (I recommend someone around hip height) you could probably have a fairly good time. Just be prepared for the inevitable questions… Can I have a coke? Why can’t I have an xbox? Can we watch channel 9 tonight? Why don’t we listen to triple M?
During a lunch break this week an equally footballing tragic friend of mine and I made the trek and paid over the hefty attendance fee to be perhaps unsurprisingly disappointed.
I’m not really sure if you call it a museum, an entertainment centre or as their advertising suggests a ‘sensation’ but no amount of Naomi Klein-style homework could prepare me for the bombardment of advertising and product placement that awaited me on the other side of the lift doors.
The exhibition was inseparable from its advertising and the only section to be sans-advertising was the woefully inadequate Hall of Fame, which had bee clearly neglected because it could not provide an advertising windfall. AFL World is less a ‘sensation’ and more a sponsor’s dream.
The place isn’t all bad I guess, as long as you took a smaller football-loving relative along (I recommend someone around hip height) you could probably have a fairly good time. Just be prepared for the inevitable questions… Can I have a coke? Why can’t I have an xbox? Can we watch channel 9 tonight? Why don’t we listen to triple M?
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