Never thought you'd find a pyramid in Australia, did you? Well there's this one, at Ballandean on Queensland's Granite Belt. Read about it on my Flickr.
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I have the radio on during the day at work, subdued, but audible. I'm currently listening to the 'State of the Union' address by George W. Bush. The last one this reprehensible example of a machavellian politician will deliver, which should please millions.
It's a speech filled to overflowing with empty rhetoric, motherhood statements and promises which will last at best, 11 months. Filled also with war-like statements against Iran, talk of better care for the country's 'wounded warriors' and some extra special emphasis on the state of play in Iraq. A war this lame duck President started five years ago this coming March, and one which will continue on long after he leaves office, leaving that country wracked by sectarian violence and political corruption on a scale that dwarfs the efforts of Saddam Hussein.
Eleven months, America. That's all you have to cope with. Let's all sincerely hope that this military minded moron currently warming a seat in your Whitehouse doesn't take into his high-IQ mind that he needs to leave a bigger indelible mark on your country's history than he's already made. Thanks to George W. Bush, your national reputation, in many minds, is akin to the porcelin bowl in your bathroom. George W. Bush is that dirty brown stain on the back face of the S-bend.
]]>How do you feel about your birthday? Do you look forward to it and remind all your friends, or do you dread it and try to keep it a secret?
I hate it! A birthday isn't a celebration of having survived another 12 months. It's a warning that your time is running out. Birthdays are your body's odometer ticking over. Your life's time clock counting down to zero and there's no penalty time once the final whistle blows, baby.
When I turned 40, I became so depressed. Forty! Twice Twenty and one quarter of the fun. I turned fifty last year and no more depression. In fact, I've come to terms with age. It's inevitable, so I figured I'd accept it, along with the fact that I can't bend to pick up the bathmat without feeling that twinge in the left knee. When I take a piss, and think it's all finished, shake & all......there's still that last sneaky dribble AFTER the tackle is reeled in again. That's age, apparently. My doctor said so. If you eat too late at night & go to bed on a full stomach, then wake up three hours later drowning in your own gastric juices which are making a break for freedom.......that's age. Even sex is an effort, and performance is something I really have to work at, where once it just seemed so matter-of-fact. Hey, twice a month ain't so bad. Kinda makes you look forward to the occasions when they happen.
No, you can take birthdays and shove 'em up yer clacker. I have more than enough reminders of encroaching old age on a daily basis without having to commemorate another one on the anniversary of my entry into this terminal game.
What is it about people 25 to 30 years younger than me who'll take a mobile phone call on the train, at a normal speaking volume, and carry on a conversation as if they're shut inside a soundproof room? I couldn't give a rat's arse about how long it's been since whomever last visited or who's had a sprog, what it looks like, how so-and-so is doing at work or any number of sundry other mundane and revealing personal attributes of the caller & callee.
There was a time, undoubtedly before the advent of mobile telephones, that person-to-person conversations were sacrosanct and regarded as the sole property of the persons conversing. At no time did person A take a call from person B in the presence of person C. It just wasn't done. Yet, in today's world it seems to be accepted practice that when a mobile phone 'rings' (these things aren't really telephones, they're limited frequency SELCALL UHF radios) the holder/owner answers it as a slave would a master, then proceeds to conduct what almost always amounts to a highly personal and revealing conversation in the company of other human beings should they be in close proximity or not.
Surely, in the interests of not just public behavioural etiquette but prudent personal privacy, it behoves the owner of the mobile phone to at least switch it off when on public transport, so as not to burden, embarrass or otherwise annoy their fellow travellers. When I travel commuter class, I like to do so in commuter silence - apart from the noisy clatter and bang of the electric railway carriages. I don't need to hear other peoples personal conversations or details and certainly don't wish to. To me, it's akin to being forced to sniff the armpit of the daggiest passenger for the duration of the call. I don't need it, I don't want it and etiquette ought to decree that I oughtn't to have to suffer it.
If you're one of these thoughtless, insensitive arseholes, time you paid attention!
Have you ever done anything out of pure spite? What did you do?
Submitted by Hydranokaori.
Sure have. I had a boss a couple of years ago who was the biggest loser I'd come across in 30-odd years in finance. Self importance, thy name was surely Paul Hammond. There we go again! Another act of sheer spite. Hey, the guy deserves it. What did I do? I told him precisely what I thought of him - "Paul, you're an absolute fuckwit!" - and walked out, never to return. I was the fourth in a line of sorely tried tempers. I'm actually surprised I lasted as long as I did.
Yes, sometimes you just have to say what you feel and damn the torpedos!
What are you saving up for?
Submitted by Star.
I'm buggered if I know really. I mean, what is there to save for anyway? A rainy day? I could go under a bus tomorrow. Nahhh, why save for anything. All you wind up with is blue balls and a back-up of joy juice anyway.
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