Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Those Wonderful Toys.

I was playing Duplo with Winter this morning when, completely unprompted, she asked me to make a "Batman car"! I have, to my knowledge, had no direct conversations with her about Batman, so this request came as quite a surprise. A pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. And double-plus bonus points, Winter, for requesting a Batman car, and not a freakin' Batmobile.

The final result looked something like this...


...until Kate knocked it from the table to the floor and smashed it back into its constituent parts. Trying to reassemble from memory was a tricky job, but I got close enough (and may even have improved my original design), and Batman car Mark II, as seen above, was photographed the second it was completed.

I'm not saying the Production Design team for The Dark Knight should have given me a call, but for having only a handful of large plastic blocks (and not one of them in black), I think I did a pretty good job. Winter, at any rate, was suitably impressed. :)

UPDATE
Guy, in comments, has suggested a certain similarity exists between my humble creation and a vehicle that was used as part of the pre-game entertainment at the 1991 AFL Grand Final.


He’s even sent through an image he’s mocked up to support his case.


I hate him for it, but I must admit, he does have a point. A twisted, vicious, nasty point, but a point nonetheless. The complete horrifying spectacle can be seen on YouTube, of course.

Watch it if you must, but be warned that Angry’s vocal stylings are not only stomach-turning, but also highly contagious. Playing the clip in at work resulted in continued boisterous outbreaks of ‘Bound for Glory’ around the office throughout the afternoon. And even after several hours plugged into my iPod attempting to deprogram my brain, I still caught myself humming the tune aloud as I travelled home on the train that night…

The only positive I can find in this sorry mess is that, besides a brief slog up the bloody Kokoda track a number of years ago, it would appear that ultimately Angry was bound for nothing but obscurity. Phew.

Oh, and this follow-up from Carlton Draught is pretty good, as well.

UPDATE 2
CK just emailed me, asking: "As Bat-Man was created in May of 1939, I wonder if this might have been his first Bat Mobile.."


"Just imagine him hunched over the wheel in hurry to the latest crime, as the car pottered along.. honk honk.. he he.."


I was thinking he could well have been right, but then Guy sent me a link to The History of the Batmobile, a fascinating site that details every incarnation of the vehicle over its long and varied history. Sadly CK's suggestion was not to be found, and the earliest model they list looks more like the sort of car Tintin would be getting around in than Batman...


The closest I could find to CK's suggestion was this ridiculous clown-car...


...that I hope to never see again ever. There are over 170 different models recorded on the site (including even the model from the LEGO Batman video game), and my favourite would have to be the Anton Furst-designed Batmobile from Tim Burton's 1989 film.


That really is just an exceptional design. Sleek and menacing, and completely free from the tacky Elvira-style adornments that mar so many of the other designs. My word, there have been some fruity designs over the years, of which this design from 1974 is arguably the worst...


Not in the least surprised to see Robin behind the wheel of that one. Although it's at least not as disturbing as this ghastly design...


...which keeps bringing Se7en to mind for some reason I'd rather not dwell on. Better to dwell on the positives, like the Tumbler model from 2005's Batman Begins.


It's completely over the top, sure, but it's anything but silly. It radiates power and menace, like a crouching tiger, poised and ready to strike. It doesn't have the grace of the Furst model, but when you're tearing across rooftops and smashing through walls, who needs it? :)

Take a wander through the site if you get the chance. It's well worth it.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Taking It Lion Down.

The 1950s were a time of great fear and uncertainty, as the Cold War played out across the globe and the ever-present threat of a nuclear apocalypse struck fear into the hearts of all.

Not Charles Hipp, though. He wasn't worried. Life for him was certain to the point of boredom. Sure, he got a little buzz from speeding around town in his Cadillac without a seatbelt on, or gargling mouthfuls of DDT with the kids on weekends, but it simply wasn't enough. And so, desperate for excitement, he one day decided to bring home a lion...


A stuffed one, yeah? That's a dead, stuffed lion he's hoisted his baby granddaughter onto, isn't it? Aah no, sadly Blondie (as the lion was named), was as real as Charles himself.


Look, see? Here's Charles endangering a small child again, parading a neighbour's offspring around on the Queen of the Jungle like a pony at the Fair. And when the child eventually tired of the novelty, Blondie was bundled into the family chariot and driven off to her next ordeal.


It's good that the kids listened when she called shotgun, hey? Not that you'd argue, I guess? I mean, Charles would; but then he's going to be up front anyway, so there wasn't any point. Anyway, after several hours in the car, they'd finally arrive at their destination.


The lake. How about that serenity? Looks like she's having a ball, yeah? Blondie just loves the water. Which is fortunate, because once she gets home...


...it's bathtime! A big day out and about can get a lion really dirty, and the ever fastidious Charles would leave no spot of this proud beast unscrubbed. How ever did lions out in the wild manage to stay clean without Charles around?

Blondie, bless her, finally tired of the humiliation and fought back.


Not that Charles minded, though. Getting mauled by a lion was fat city, ya dig? What a blast! I mean, what's the point of taunting a lion if they're just going to take it all in fun? A good old-fashioned "fang-in-the-fanny hold" was exactly what Charles had been chasing, and he was now finally livin' the dream.

But Blondie just couldn't maintain the rage, and eventually retreated inside herself, broken and defeated. Even when Charles went to work on her with his cattle-prod, she just lay there and took it, barely able to raise even a whimper. Increasingly disappointed with this ungrateful beast he'd saved from the wild, Charles finally lost patience, and led Blondie behind the backyard shed, where he bludgeoned her to death with an axe. He rolled the body up in a tarpaulin, and on the next family visit to the lake, he bundled the noble lion over the side to a watery grave.

It really is a jungle out there.

(Follow the links above to the full set, if you want more. Yes, there are more. Sigh.)

UPDATE
What was it about the mid-Twentieth century and cruelty to animals and small children? I say, here's fun? Let's give little baby Mikey a big ol' bag o' lemons, and watch what happens...

Yep, nothing good. And if it wasn't bad enough already, you then discover it was some sort of amateur science experiment where Mikey was initially offered the choice between a delicious ice cream cone and an open, weeping lemon. The good Lord himself is likely unsure as to why, and indeed, what these loving parents learned as a result. Good grief.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

LIFE everlasting.

Google have knocked me onto the floor again. I'd barely picked myself up after the wonders of Google Street View, and now they've gone and hosted the entirety of LIFE magazine's photo archive online.

The collection can be accessed directly from Google by adding "source:life" to an image search. And you'll find almost anything you can think of to look for: from unforgettable world events to humble scenes of domestic life, the variety is fascinating and the depth astounding, as Related image leads to Related image leads to...

Glory, my workplace productivity hasn't taken this big a hit since the big black pit of Facebook opened up.

And I've only just dipped my toe in, but favourites so far include:

The irrepressible George S. Patton.


The Melbourne Cricket Ground and surrounding area at the time of the 1956 Olympic Games.


And a team at work on some neon Olympic signage at the same time.


A cinematic, and somewhat unsettling, image of a truck driver pulling out of a petrol station.


An open stretch of highway on Route 66 before Pixar made it popular again.


And a beautiful, iconic shot of Manhattan shrouded in fog. Or smog. Maybe it's smog? Still beautiful, either way. Love the foreground-midground-background gradations.


So much, so much, so much there. Jump in, and let me know which images appeal to you.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Eulogy.

O, classic Chuck Taylors in cherry red leather,
I thought we'd be together forever.
But one million miles down and you started to weather,
Now your sole's all adrift and your stitching's atether.
I should have bought two pair, I should have been clever,
I fear I'll find your kind again never.



Rest in peace, you precious cherry-coloured beauties. Your arch-support may have been somewhat less than existent, and your insole cushioning somewhat south of bountiful, but still, there never has and nor will there ever be a finer pair of shoes than you.

You'd think that in this world of unlimited consumer choice, a man would be able to get a pair of cherry red leather Chucks. Especially when Converse even offer a Design Your Own service on their website that supposedly empowers you to "Create your own definition of the perfect pair." But no; fickle fashion has decreed my preference to be so last whenever, and here I am, a vicim of my own contentment. If it's leather I'm insisting on, then my "Perfect Pair" can be any colour, so long as it's black, white, cactus, chocolate or sable.


The closest I've been able to get is the above Red Ochre pair in suede, but it just ain't the same thing. (And even then they don't offer the option of a red racing stripe; just black, white, parchment or, um... athletic navy (hello?), so, thanks for playing.)

UPDATE
Not content with simply moaning into the wind, I decided to email Converse directly and demand to know why cherry red wasn't on their list of colours. This was the unsatisfying pro forma reply.
Hello,

Thank you for your email. We unfortunately do not have any other options for colors or styles at this time. We do change these options every few months however so please come back and see us in the next few weeks to see if the style of shoes or the color option that you want becomes available.

Thank you for shopping with us!

Thank you,
Meagan
www.converse.com
Thaaaat's it, that's the way; string me along to eternity with hopes and dreams of that one day yet to come. And as my enquiry only concerned unavailable colours, could you please edit out references to styles from your cut 'n' paste response to at least give the impression that you've read what I've written? Sigh.

Oh well, everything old is always new again, so I guess I'll just bide my time, and then buy up big when that cherry red-letter day finally arrives.

UPDATE 2
I suppose I could always buy a white pair and paint my own...

UPDATE 3
Well, ask and you shall (sort of) receive faster than Chuck Taylor drivin' through the paint. I decided to take my new friend Meagan from Converse at her word, and headed back to their website to see if any additional colours were available yet.

Turns out, there are! In addition to the previous five colour options for leather, there are now pink, gold, royal purple, royal blue, athletic navy, green and yes... red!


Not cherry red, sadly, but balls-out firetruck red instead, which, while a little garish for my particular tastes, is still a step in the right direction.

But wait, there's sort of more! Suede's been given a bunch of new colour options as well. Again, still no cherry red but, at least, you now have the option to colour the racing stripe red.


Which, yeah, is great, but, without wanting to sound like a whiner you just can't please, I kind of like the colour of the stripe to match that of the shoe... so a firetruckin' stripe would be great if the shoe was firetruckin' as well, but on a red ochre shoe my "definition of the perfect pair" would have a stripe of red ochre too.

So, I don't know, the parts are nearly all there; I just can't assemble them into the arrangement I'd like. But thanks for trying to meet me half-way, Converse. I guess I'll be back to check again soon.

UPDATE 4
Poladroid is a nifty little application for converting your digital photos into Polaroids, complete with textured paper frame. You just drag and drop, and then wait for the image to "develop". Here's one I made of my Cons. Love that magenta saturation.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Books, Wonderfully Sorted Books.

There's a scene in High Fidelity where John Cusack embarks on an ambitious, post-break-up project to arrange his massive record collection... autobiographically! Brilliant! I wish I could break the comfortable confines of such boring and traditional techniques as alphabetical and chronological, but I'm just not that bold.

Maybe, by way of working up to that noble goal, I could experiment with following:

Arranged by colour...


...and arranged by narrative.


Top shelf. There are a stack more 'narrative' images in the Sorted Books project, so click the link above for more.

UPDATE
Sadly, of limited use to us non-bootcamping Mac users, but readatwork.com is worth a look (if you can withstand the Powerpoint layout horrors).

UPDATE 2
To illustrate a pleasing digression that's come up in the Comments, here's the centre of the White Stripes' CD, White Blood Cells. As you can see, the disc is completely white with no manufacturer's markings to be seen, and so it's 12 o'clock time, on time, all the time!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Tea Tree The Key.

Introducing Tea Tree Oil, the all-in-one, all natural, no holds barred, miracle multipurpose solution that achieves outstanding results you simply won't believe.

Just listen to this unpaid, non-solicited, testimonial.
"When I sat down at my desk and discovered my two-year-old had taken to the keyboard of my precious iMac with a permanent marker, I thought I might go into coronary arrest. I tried all the so-called remedies I read about on the internet – toothpaste, magic erasers, motor oil – but nothing seemed to work. Then, at the point of despair, my wife suggested trying Tea Tree Oil, and let me tell you, I was amazed at the results!
With nought but a dab of solution and a light application of elbow-grease, the "permanent" marker proved to be nothing of the kind. In no time at all my keyboard was restored to its former glory, saving not only this vital peripheral, but my relationship with my firstborn as well!!

Thanks and blessings marvellous Tea Tree Oil. "Oil" be using you again soon!!!"


Relieved, Reservoir
So get down to your nearest retailer of miracle goods today, and see what Tea Tree Oil can do for you!

Friday, October 10, 2008

Coming Up: Olympics.

Just in time for the London 2012 Olympic Games comes a few random reflections on those held way back when in Beijing. Better late than never, I guess? They were topical when I started writing them, so I thought I may as well finish and post the buggers. For posterity. Or whatever.

Coming Up: Inaction Replays
If I die having never seen another super-slow motion montage, I will die a happy man. Even if it means never again seeing the parched runner and his miracle butterfly. In fact, especially if it means never seeing the parched runner and his miracle butterfly. That clip creeps me out. Once the novelty, like the butterfly, flitted away, all you were left with was the faintly erotic scene of a man languidly raising his water bottle to his mouth and gushing its contents all over his face. Um, can we move onto something else, please? Oh great, here's some swimmer's arm moving in super slow-mo. Not an actual swimmer; just an arm. Brilliant.

You know , I thought they might have tired of this toy by the end of the Athens Olympics, but no, here we are, four years later, still watching the same excruciating, poorly-framed shots that cram five minutes of highlights into nearly an hour. I switched to SBS, hoping for some relief, only to discover they were playing the exact same montage. Interestingly though, where Channel 7 felt high-intensity, British alt-rockers Muse to be the perfect aural accompaniment, SBS went with... yep, Andrea Bocelli. A more apt illustration of the difference between the two networks would, I think, be hard to find.

Coming Up: Breakfast
And speaking of soundtracks, to my abject horror Coles latched onto Sia Furler's beautiful song, Breathe Me, for their mawkish tribute to the "unsung heroes" of every Olympics since time began: the mums and their magnificent food preparation skills. Unless the mums bought their food from Safeway, sorry, Woolworths, in which case they're just losers. Like their loser kids who come eighth, or whatever. Losers. Anyway, Breathe Me was put to much better use in the final climactic scene of the brilliant Six Feet Under, a scene so moving and wonderful that every viewing leaves me a teary trembling mess. And then along stomps Coles, muscling into my subconscious and squeezing out my precious associations with early mornings, crunchy apples and Camberwell mums living vicariously. Realising my desperate situation, I got out my Six Feet DVDs and put myself through a rigorous reassociation regime, until once again those first few notes brought nothing to mind but Claire driving away and people keeling over.

Coming Up: Landmarks
Since TV networks began to brand their programming with digital watermarks, they've gradually mutated them from a quiet kid in the corner to an attention-seeking extrovert. Larger, more elaborate, often coloured and at times even animated, watermarks are now mostly so only in name. And then into the ring swaggers Channel 7 with their bold as a dog's bollocks offering for the Olympics. Not only larger than any I've ever seen before, it was also completely opaque. Nothing like Exclusive Rights to bring out the brazenness in a Television Network.

Also brazen was Channel 7's refusal to be constrained by anything as helpful as a timeslot for their televised events. Everything was always "Coming Up..." but you could never be sure when. And to make things even more difficult, the network seemed to have put a bored teenager with a remote control in charge of programming. Ten minutes of water polo, five minutes of rhythmic gymnastics, a little bit of track and field, two shots of men's basketball, aaaand back to the water polo. Liberally spiced with ads, of course. The water polo game clock said there were 10 minutes of boredom to go, so I went and made a cup of tea and checked my email, only to discover upon my return that there were still 10 minutes of boredom to go! Either time had just stood still, or they'd spliced in a chunk of some other event to keep things... I don't know, interesting? No idea what the event was, but as time ground on I eventually realised it must have been the one I'd been waiting for, as suddenly its time was no longer "Coming Up," it was just up.

Coming Up: 1980
The closing ceremony was a real letdown. Course, after the sprightly Joanna Griggs reported the Chinese as saying the spectacle would surpass that of the Opening Ceremony, it never really stood a chance. Doubly so, when the eventual production turned out to be only slightly more spectacular than a high school Rock Eisteddfod. More maniacally grinning, frantically waving people riding bikes? Nooo! Quite why the Chinese went blasting our expectations up into the stratosphere like that, I'll never know. True to form, Channel 7 refused to be locked in to a starting time, and so, after Joanna's 15th assurance that the Closing Ceremony was "coming up," I set the VCR running and went to bed. Thank the Maker and his oil baths that I did, because when I sat down to watch it the next day, there was still a half hour of ads interrupted by the occasional programme break to go. As I tore through the interminable lead-up like a Jamaican down the home straight, I once again gave thanks to my VCR and its blessed day of manufacture.

Coming Up: The Bill
While I marvel at our nation of just over 20 million people placing sixth on the Medal Tally against the whole entire world, when I read that each medal cost us around $17 million in federal grants, I had to wonder if it was worth it? I know you can't put a price on inspiring the next generation of Aussie kids to swim really, really, really, really fast, but still, $782 million is an extraordinary sum. I guess, at least, when we're told (repeatedly) that the athletes are doing it for us, it's actually true?

Coming Up: Smitty!
• And finally (to finish on a positive note amidst all this whining)... Go Smitty! (Surprisingly, the Wikipedia link to Smitty's Hockey Australia profile doesn't work, and I don't know how to fix it (Phil?), so if you want the lowdown on Smitty, go (Smitty) here! Yay!

Monday, September 15, 2008

The 2008 Birdbath Olympic Cup.

When Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd visited China in March 2008, he took the opportunity to converse openly with Chinese President Hu Jintao on a range of topics, none more important than the inclusion of FNOccer in the upcoming Beijing Olympic Games. Mr Rudd, a longtime fan of competitive bottle kicking, put his case forward with passion, and in fluent Mandarian, no less. "Surely FNOccer deserved full event status," he argued, "after receiving widespread acclaim at Athens 2004 in a stunningly successful demonstration." President Hu reacted sharply at Mr Rudd's use of the word 'demonstration' (he mistakenly used yóu xíng 游行 meaning 'protest' instead of the correct cāo yǎn 操演 meaning 'a practical exhibition'), but a quick whisper to an interpreter cleared up the confusion at once. "And if the equine events are to be held off-shore in Hong Kong," continued Mr Rudd, "why not other events as well?"

President Hu, though clearly convinced, responded with regret, explaining that with the People's United Workforce already struggling to meet their construction deadlines, it would not be possible to construct another Glorious People's Venue in which the athletes could compete. Smiling, Mr Rudd turned to the assembled media and said (this time in English), "President Hu, on behalf of the Australian government and the Australian people, I make available to you and the citizens of the world, Australia's oldest, most hallowed brick surface and the home itself of the nation's second-favourite homegrown game, the Birdbath!! President Hu again turned to his interpreter, and Mr Rudd, sensing the confusion, rushed to clarify. "Or rather, I should say, the Templestowe FNOccer Ground, which is known affectionately to us Australians as the Birdbath! There was once a birdbath there, you see? But it was vandalised. By vandals. It's not there anymore. Let me show you a picture..."

Anyway, Mr Wu, eventually overcome by this genuine expression of the Olympic spirit, enthusiastically shook Mr Rudd's hand in acceptance, and an accord was reached. Back in Australia the news was received by the FNOccer community with great joy, but little surprise. After all, if freakin' beach volley ball can get in, there's no reason kickin' around a plastic bottle can't as well.


Roll on a few months to like the luckiest date in the history of forever, 08.08.08, and the big day finally arrived. Templestowe stood ready for the arrival of an army of athletes — drawn from a thousand countries, cultures, colours and creeds, united by nothing but the Olympic spirit and a pure love for FNOccer — but, mysteriously, the army somehow failed to arrive! Where could they be? What could have happened? Had they all somehow got the date wrong? Forgotten to set the alarm on their clock/radios? Travelled by mistake to Austria? Chosen to fly Qantas and were currently stranded in a transit lounge in Malaysia? No one could say for sure, and as FNOccer waits for no man, the officials eventually decided, international field or not, the bottle had to drop.

In the interests of keeping the global focus so essential for an Olympic event, the now all-Australian competitors pledged to each select a different nation to represent out on the bricks. (Any medals won would still be awarded to Australia, though. Of course. Don't get carried away.) As reigning World Champion and Keeper of the FNOath, Steve was offered first dibs on representing Australia, but with a pathological aversion to green and gold (especially in combination) he passed, and chose a country with a proper set of national colours, New Zealand. Seeing in Usain Bolt a hubris matched only by his own, CK elected to represent Jamaica. Enamoured of all things Scandinavian since his days at Ericsson many winters ago, Davet chose Sweden. Large, arrogant and with a fondness for invading impoverished nations and stealing their oil, JJ chose the USA. (Cheap shot, I know, but with a price that low I'd be mad going anywhere else!) Inspired by famous Olympic boxer, Naseem Hamed, who, despite boxing for Great Britain, insisted on being announced as "representing his heritage land of Yemen," Bart also chose Yemen.


Once allegiances were declared, the athletes gathered to enjoy the deep-fried Opening Ceremony, brought to you by Olympic Partner, the Templestowe Fish Balloon. Jaws dropped at a stunning display of synchronised burger-eating, and hearts were won as a troupe of performers imagined a world (using nothing but half-full bottles of Pepsi Max), where children were free to kick around a plastic bottle without fear of global warming swelling the oceans and flooding their low-lying, coastal bricked surfaces. It was amazing. When the Opening Ceremony concluded, the athletes made their way to the Templestowe FNOccer Ground, to await Bart (the bad boy of the FNOccer circuit), who was en route after sitting a motorcycle test that morning.

While they waited, the draw was done. Round 1 pit CK against JJ Glamma in a Qualification match, while Bart and Davet clashed in a Semi-final, the winner of which would travel directly to the Grand Final. Round 2 was the Second Semi-final, which would see the winner of the Qualifier come up against the Defending Champion, Steve, whose reigning status earned him a first round rest. Round 3 would be the Gold Medal match between the two Semi-final winners. As a concession to CK, who'd somehow made it to the Olympics without ever actually playing FNOccer, it was agreed that in Round 1 the Semi-final would be played before the Qualifier, so he'd at least get to watch a game being played before being called upon to play one himself.

Once the draw was done, (and Bart had finally arrived), the bottle was dropped and the Game was on!

ROUND 1
Semi-final: Davet (Sweden) v Bart (Yemen)

A stiff draw for Davet saw him run into heavyweight Bart in his first game, but if he could knock the prancing Yemeni down, he'd earn himself a trip direct to the golden Grand Final. Refusing to be intimidated by Bart's physicality out on the bricks, Davet managed to hold his own. And citing lessons learned last year from JJ the Great One-Pointer, he capitalised on a number of penalty shots by playing safe from the 1-point line, building his score slowly but surely.


But then, with the scores locked at four all, the two competitors clashed at the centre line. In a tangle of feet, Davet managed to kick free, but Bart, somehow, volleyed with his primary kick and sent the bottle scuttling under the bench for two, perching himself on the very lips of victory. Could Davet score the next four straight points to claim the game? Well, as the Swede stepped to the serving line to find out, Bart – seemingly stung by a sudden attack of conscience – threw up a red flag, saying that he might possibly have stepped over the line when kicking his last goal...


The match officials went straight to the tapes, and confirmed that, yes, he had indeed faulted, and the scores were levelled again at 4 apiece. The crowd, inspired by this display of sportsmanship, applauded Bart loudly. Good lesson there for the kids coming up through the junior leagues: it's not about winning; it's about winning right. However noble the act may have been, though, it seemed to rob Bart of his fire, and Davet, with three thumping goals in quick succession, knocked the scores to 7-4 and Bart back onto the steps.

In the post-match interview, a deflated Bart expressed regret for once again failing to achieve his personal goals for the Cup, and depriving his fans of the razzle dazzle they so love to see when he's out on the bricks. Davet, by contrast, was pleased with his performance, though unsurprised at the result, suggesting that a victory over Bart no longer meant what it once did! A slapdown we can only hope reignites Bart's fireworks next year.

Qualification: JJ Glamma (USA) v CK (Jamaica)
In the lead-up to the Cup, first time competitor CK was all over the Anderson St Press talking up his prospects, declaring that once he was out on the bricks, the Birdbath would become the bloodbath. Come game-day however, the only blood being shed was CK's as JJ Glamma came out like a Superpower, slamming home five rapid goals and leaving the rookie struggling for answers.


Realising that his dreams of gold were about to be washed in white, the Jamaican dug deep, and with legs pumping like pistons he blasted home a pair of goals, including a 2-pointer from off the bricks. But JJ, keen to recapture the glory of his dream run last year, refused to be rattled, and slotted home another two goals to finish CK off, 7 to 3.


ROUND 2
Semi-final: JJ Glamma (USA) v Steve (New Zealand)

(Bronze Medal match)
Glamma's win over CK came with a cost though, as the Round 1 reshuffle meant he advanced straight into a Semi-final against the well-rested Keeper of the FNOath, Steve. And the cost was clear as Steve blitzed the heavy-footed JJ, dragging the scoreline out to 6-1 whether it wanted to go there or not. And when Glamma faulted in the following rally and sent Steve to the penalty line, the Golden Ticket looked to have the Champ's name all over it.


But a shocked gasp erupted from the steps as Steve strode past the 1-point penalty line, and headed for the 2. "What are you doing?" Davet exclaimed. "You only need one point to win!" "Nope," the Champ replied, "You can't win with a 1-point penalty." As Davet started to respond the Champ cut him short with an emphatic clarification, "I can't win with a 1-point penalty!" There it was again. The need to win right: some call it cocky; others the mark of a true champion. Steve's shot went wide, however, and the game was back on.


Glamma staged an impressive fightback, scoring the next three goals to take his tally to four, but his dreams of gold disappeared under a bench as the Keeper finally slid another goal through, finishing his opponent off, 7 to 4.

ROUND 3
Grand Final: Steve (New Zealand) v Davet (Sweden)

(Gold Medal match)
No rest for the magnificent as now it was Steve's turn for back-to-back clashes, heading straight into the Grand Final against the Norsca-fresh Davet. "It's only fair," Steve was overheard saying as he adjusted his shoelaces before stepping onto the bricks. "I wouldn't ask anything of my fellow competitors that I wasn't prepared to do myself." Anything except lose, of course. The champ seems quite prepared to leave that one to just his opponents.


And, indeed, now it was Davet's turn as Steve smashed the Swede into the ground, 7 to 1, in a demolition that recalled his equally impressive takedown of Bart at the 2007 Birdbath World Cup. But the one-sided scoreline doesn't tell quite the whole story as, despite Davet's only score coming from one of his now habitual 1-point penalties, he nevertheless fought a tough defensive game that pushed the champ to his limits.


In the end though, with a seismic 3-point primary kick from deep off the bricks, and a salvo of singles sent scorching under the bench with devastating precision, the man they call The Postman got his message through.


Below: Gold Medallist and Two-time Keeper of the FNOath, Steve


Below: The Medal Ceremony. Gold: Steve (New Zealand), Silver: Davet (Sweden), Bronze: JJ Glamma (USA).


FURTHER READING:
The 2007 Birdbath World Cup
A Concise History of All Things FNO

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Best Olympic Broadcast Ever!

The hacks at Channel 7 could have learnt something from KTVH, an NBC affiliate in Helena, Montana, who enhanced their Olympic broadcast by superimposing the famous and much-loved silhouette of Mystery Science Theater 3000! Gold!


It was apparently accidental, and only stayed up there for four hours, but that would've been the best four hours of Olympic programming I've ever seen. Although if it had actually been live and not just a static overlay, that would have been even better. Those lucky sods at KTVH. Oh, to have a button I could push to do likewise. Come on, digital TV revolution! Forget your Full HD Extreme rubbish; just give me a button on my remote to do this. So good.

Push the button, Frank.

(Thanks to 6.5 for the heads-up.)

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Telling Whoppers.

I WAS DRIVING ... PAST HUNGRY JACK'S.

I FELT MY HUNGER ... BURN WITHIN.

I PULLED INTO ... THE DRIVE-THROUGH,

AND ORDERED ARGUABLY THE MOST RIDICULOUS MOVIE TIE-IN PRODUCT ...

EVER!

THE ...

DARK WHOPPER!



The burgers might be better, but the advertising's rubbish! Glory, what were they thinking? When it played before The Dark Knight most of the cinema burst out laughing. That can't be a good sign.

But I guess they're laughing now, aren't they? Because I bought one. I guess I just couldn't help myself. I just had to know. Was the burger made from human flesh, perhaps? Or worse, lamb's fry? Was it somehow, slightly, even remotely, in any way, even conceptually, dark?

No.

Course not! Stupid. It was just a bog-standard hamburger with no discernible difference to any other I've eaten before! I had to go and look up what the differences were and discovered, get this, that it had barbeque sauce instead of ketchup, and no ... PICKLES! Oh, the humanity! Oh, the dark depths of my wicked, inky soul! NO PICKLES! Personally I love pickles, but I understand I'm in a micro-minority. Wouldn't it have been more iniquitous to have packed it with nothing but pickles?! Or is that TOO DARK?! Step back from the abyss, young one. Man was not meant to travel that far!

Dark Whopper.

Hmpprrppp.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Underwhelming Achievement in the Field of Excel.

Please Excel. It is the 21st Century. I have 6GB of RAM. I'm pretty confident I can handle 120 cells worth of data.


Please stop asking me this question. I have many more files to copy and paste from before the dawn comes, and your constant questioning is slowing me right down. Set me free, won't you Excel, to brave the wild rapids of memory management myself. Or at least give me the option to turn this question off.

UPDATE
50. It's 50 cells. Try to copy 'n' paste 51 cells of data out of Excel and it waves the big old flag of caution at you! Proceed with your 51 cells of leadlined data at your own risk! The last table of data I updated was around the 200 cell mark! I've been operating at over four times Excel's recommended limit and I didn't know it! I COULD HAVE DIED!!

So, remember: Fifty cells, you're safe. Fifty-one cells, you're on your own, you maniac!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Bath Time.

Olympic action at the Bird's Nest?

Forget that.

All the real Olympic action is going down at the Birdbath!

Stay tuned. Full report on the 2008 Birdbath Olympic Cup coming soon.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Another funny thing happened...

I asked back here if you've ever read a joke and laughed because it’s funny, but at the same time it’s an uncomfortable laugh because you recognise far too much of yourself in the punchline?

Happened again.

I particularly like the rollover sting. Done that before, too. Aah, I do so enjoy Wondermark.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

More Awe.

There are few things that I would truly call awesome – the birth of a child, the wonders of nature, God, lasagne – but over the past week I've come across two more I think could make it onto the list.

I'd only just picked myself up off the floor after witnessing Shazam (the iPhone app that identifies almost any song just by "listening" to it), when along stomps Google Maps Street View in its size 12s to bundle me down again.

Street View is astounding, and absolutely unbelievable. Of course there's the usual handful of desperately cool killjoys scoffing and pretending they're unimpressed, but just ignore them because their hearts are cold and shriveled. And, look, let's deal with any murky privacy concerns another day. For now, let's simply marvel with a sense of childlike wonder at the magic being performed before our very eyes.

UPDATE
A legion mechanical eyes head out, up, down and over, recording, charting, cataloguing the streets and byways of this world, so that a million human eyes can scan through the results to find... funny stuff. And then more funny stuff. Well, what else could you possibly use this new technology for? Oh, what we humans are capable of. And oh, what we humans are capable of. :)

UPDATE 2
Um, in fairness I should probably warn you about "Ryan Germick, web specialist at Google," who features in the Street View introduction I've linked to above. Um, proceed with caution.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

A Cure For Connex, Part 2.

Honestly, I'm only trying to...


When I saw that Connex were still doggedly coming out in support of cancer, all logic to the contrary, I thought I'd send them a message and ask why? At the very least I thought they'd appreciate getting an email that wasn't a thundering tirade over late and overcrowded trains on their rail network.
Hello. I was wondering if you could explain the reasoning behind the use of 'for' in 'Connex For Cancer Day'? If you take 'for' in its most common sense as meaning "in favour or in support of" then surely you can only read this as a statement in support of cancer?! Even if it's 'Cancer Day' you're in support of, it still sounds a little creepy. Yay for cancer!

I understand the importance of avoiding negative language in a positioning statement, (as with the former Anti-Cancer Council repositioning themselves by lowering the 'anti'), but wouldn't 'Connex Against Cancer Day' make more sense? Or if you had to use a positive preposition, then 'Connex For A Cure Day'?

I'm not meaning to be negative myself as, whatever it might be called, it's an undeniably worthy initiative, but the choice of words did make me pause.

Many thanks for any response you'd care to make.

Regards,
/etc, etc
Anyway, to my great surprise, a week later I received the following thoughtful reply:
We refer to your inquiry of 13 July 2008, regarding the wording of our “Connex for Cancer Day” campaign.

The intention of the campaign slogan is to indicate our support for Cancer Day, a day we have initiated with the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre to raise funds to contribute to the search for a cure for cancers of all kinds.

There is a subtle distinction between “Connex for Cancer” and “Connex for Cancer Day”, but an important one.

This year’s “Connex for Cancer Day” campaign will be our fourth, and so far, with the help of our customers, we have raised more than $160,000 for the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre, a premier Australian resource for cancer patients in the provision of integrated treatment, research and education.

While Cancer Day might be perceived to have negative connotations, we believe that having a day to highlight the disease and the people who have suffered from it, their families and those sufferers who have survived, is an empowering initiative. We’ve worked closely with the Peter Mac Communications and Marketing team to ensure we minimise any offence the community may feel.

The “Connex for Cancer Day” campaign name is not intended to offend, however we are aware that for some people cancer still carries a strong stigma, and talk about the disease can be upsetting for sufferers, survivors or those who know a sufferer or survivor or have lost someone to the disease. We believe the positive aims of our campaign outweigh any negative associations people might have with the wording, and the support of our customers on this day would certainly seem to reinforce that.

We appreciate your feedback, and thank you for the opportunity to clarify our intentions when creating the “Connex for Cancer Day” campaign.

Yours sincerely
Sarah Hart
Connex Melbourne
I understand that there's more to dealing with cancer than merely fighting it; it's also about supporting those who suffer under its terrible burden, so fair enough, Connex, you're right. I'm on board. And I'll txt all my friends right away to let them know!

Monday, August 04, 2008

iPromise no more iPuns.

They're really getting tedious, aren't they? Not as bad as FCUK (you're so naughty, French Connection!), which lost its appeal after one or one viewings, but they're still getting annoying. Especially when they're nothing clever; they're just a boring old headline with an 'i' bunged out the front.

So, yeah, no new puns, but I've got an iPhone!

Glory, that took some doing. I won't bore you with the details of my miraculous escape from a web of incompetence, weaselly buck-passing and half a lifetime on hold, suffice to say that I'm not planning to purchase my next phone from Telechoice. And then just when I thought I was out, it called me up and dragged me back in. The day I went to pick up the replacement unit I made doubly sure it was activated and able to make a call, but I didn't try accessing the web over the 3G network. I should have. After a day of thinking I was just unlucky enough to always be in areas of poor reception, I suddenly realised after comparing my phone to a friend's that, no, it actually wasn't working at all. (And yes, 3G was turned on, I checked. Many times).

Another half hour on the phone touring the many and varied departments of an Optus Call Centre led me to a tech who was eventually able to fix the problem by, quote, "manually installing some missing components in our rear-end," unquote! By this stage I was ready to manually install some components in someone's rear-end too, but a 3G icon blinking into life next to five bars of 3G reception soothed the savage beast within and all was good with the world. I harnessed the good energy, blocked out the bad, iPhone packed his bags, got to the airport, and now he's home.

The only negative now is that since losing my old mobile I've been off the grid for so long that people have stopped calling me. I'm back, people. Feel free to call me again.

UPDATE: Just been googlin' around for iPhone screen protectectors. How good is this one? I'll tell you: among its list of Features it's described as being "Military Grade". Awesome.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Rock 'n' Roll Stars.

So, is Noel Gallagher going to follow Radiohead's lead and make the new Oasis album, Dig Out Your Soul, available for free?
"I didn't spend a year in the most expensive studio in England, with the most expensive producer in America, and the most expensive graphic designer in London to then give [the album] away. Fook that." (Manc phonetic adjustment mine)
Aah, so that'd be a no then, Noel?

That's what I love about the Gallaghers. There's no pretense. They speak their minds, they speak their minds clearly, and they're utterly unconcerned with what others might think. They're just exactly who they are, and exactly who they want to be. They're possibly the most authentic and sincere people on the planet. :)

Here's hoping they'll dig out another cracker.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

The Dark Knight.

Amazing. Pretty much everything I'd hoped for. Better than Burton's? Um, you tell me:


Nothing else to be said, really. I couldn't summarise the differences in approach any clearer than that. Unfortunately I couldn't find an image of the new Two-Face to demonstrate the similar horrific contrast between the visions of Nolan and Schumacher, but, really, I don't think I need to:


Tommy Two-Face condemns himself. Jacobim Mugatu's keyboard-tie would be embarrassed to be seen tied around his neck. No matter what Nolan put together it couldn't have been any worse than that.

So, yeah, brilliant. Christian Bale wasn't perfect (his throaty Bat-whisper got a bit much at times), but he's the best Batman yet, and Heath was absolutely magnificent. I could have watched an hour more of him, at least. The Joker's always been my least favourite Batman villain, but not anymore. And Gary Oldman, bless him, managed to turn in another brilliantly understated performance as Lieutenant Gordon. Judged on past performances, Oldman would've been right at home in Schumacher's Gotham, but thankfully he dialled himself down and played Gordon to perfection.

What I loved most about Dark Knight was how real it all felt. And how straight the actors played their roles. No ham at all. It was, well, besides that sonar mobile phone Google Maps deus ex machina, it was all so believable. And daaaaaaark. Batman as it should be.

Anyway, mostly in response to the comment thread on my earlier Dark Knight post, I wanted to put up the collection of campaign posters that I've put together. You can't post images into the Blogger's comments, so I thought I'd use that as an excuse for a new post (this one) and, if it likes, the poster conversation can continue here.

Huzzah! (Click for high-res version. Obviously.)


I love the collage image, but my absolute favourite is this one:


And not just because the head's been cropped. The power, the menace, the suspense... ooh, it send shivers down my spine. And, unlike certain other posters, it sends shivers for the right reason. :)

UPDATE
Collection of promotional posters above updated to include new additions. I'm unsure if some are from different countries, which may explain certain irregularities (such as the four different logo treatments), or even if some might be fan art (the more gruesome Joker ones), but for what it's worth, there they are.

UPDATE 2
I found myself wondering the other day, do I hate Schumacher's Batman films unfairly? Have I created a memory more awful and repugnant than the actual films themselves? If I was to rewatch them now would I actually find that they're really not so bad and just a bit of fun? And then I came across this lowlights reel from Batman and Robin on YouTube, and my wonders fell dead to the ground. I couldn't make it past six minutes. How indescribably odious.