Happy approximate birthday Jesus, A.D. 2010.

Merry Christmas everyone. Happy birthday Jesus old mate. How many candles this year? Even with a margin for error, must be at least 2000, right? Oh, that's right: an immortal deity never reveals his age! Forgive me for asking. Awkward.

Anyway, Christmas at my house this year was a glittertastic celebration of pink barbie fairy princess butterfly ballerinas! Looking around after presents time, it was like a rainbow had exploded in the front room. Which was expected, of course. Especially after reading Winter's letter to Father Christmas:

Dear Father Christmas,

Can I please have a Princess Barbie doll, and a fairy doll with beautiful wings, please, and a pink flowery skirt with purple flowers, and a butterfly toy with rainbow wings, and fairy and flower stickers, and, last one, I would like a fairy dolls house. Thank you very much. PS: Also, a Daisy doll like Harper. And I want a new belt for Mum. Harper would like a birdie toy. And a Star Wars movie for Dad. And a ballerina's dress (white skirt with spots and pink top). Also some pink glitter.

Lots of love,
from Winter

Yikes. Don't forget the pink glitter, Father Christmas. One of Winter's gifts was actually a princess Barbie with a special skirt that magically transforms into a pair of fairy wings when you lift a lever on her back. Fairy Princess Barbie! What more does any girl need? There's a crossover for everyone these days.

It's not often I wish I had a son (in addition to my two wonderful girls), but I must admit Christmas is definitely one of those times. Thankfully Kate had mercy and got me the Boba Fett Mr Potato Head: Spuda Fett. He was outnumbered 50:1 by a legion of Barbies, ponies and fairies, but when he emerged from his packaging Winter grabbed a (previously purchased) Spudtrooper and began waving it around making laser noises! Don't know who she picked that up from but, mystery (I assume) boy, whoever and wherever you are, THANK YOU. :)

I must say I was impressed Winter thought to make requests for others in her letter; although I'm not sure what Star Wars movie she was thinking about: there ain't none that I want. Still, thought that counts. :)

Merry Christmas.

UPDATE
An alarming development: Winter just pointed a miniature, brightly coloured Polly Pocket coat rack at me and shouted, "Bang, bang, I shoot you dead!" My! Who has she been hanging out with?

i'd rather stab myself in the face and then unsuscribe.

Just came across this YouTube Comment Generator. Hard to believe they're randomly generated. I'm sure I've read a couple of them before.

Is there anything in the world more worthless than YouTube comments? Any activity more a waste of time? Not that there aren't videos worth commenting on – this one, for example – but what's the point? It's impossible to have any sort of a conversation, and whatever you might say would be drowned out by the half billion monkeys frantically hammering away at their keyboards.

If only YouTube had the calibre of commenters here on the Path. :)

Harper time.

After dropping Winter at playgroup and Kate at the hairdresser, Harper and I spent an hour or so wandering around the beautiful Fitzroy Gardens.

We lay on the grass and felt the warm sun and cool breeze on our skin. We collected pine cones and made a tower, which Harper promptly kicked over. "Do again, Dad? Do again? Knocky over?" We headed off the main path and up a narrow track that wound through the trees. And stumbled onto a teenage couple like fully makin' out on one of the secluded benches. With no apparent desire to stop. Oh. Um. Harper, look there's a duck back there behind us, shall we go and look at it? Yes? Good.

We watched the duck preen its feathers and then we threw twigs and leaves into the pond. Or rather, Harper threw twigs and leaves into a pond; I tried to restrain her enthusiasm and keep her from falling in. "Harper, waaaaait!" (She didn't fall in.) We chased the myna birds and told them to shoo. Nasty birds. We picked up sticks and whacked the metal bands around the trunks of many of the trees. We picked flowers for mum and took turns taking photos of whatever caught our eye. Harper by me.


Me by Harper.


Clearly she shares my fondness for photos with the heads cropped out.

And before I knew it, all too soon, it was time to go. Back into the car and back to collect Kate and Winter. Then some lunch.

As mornings go, it was another of my finest.

Sie Rebellenabschaum!

Re-imagining classic Star Wars characters as figures from World War II might seem like an exercise in redundancy, but when the results are this great, who cares?


Star Wars Transformers are good, but Star Wars 1942 is better. (Follow the link for the complete set by Sillof & Glorbes.) They look great, and the little touches—Han's jacket, Chewie's bowcaster, the power cord on Luke's lightsabre (ha)—really make the difference. Bonus points for Sillof too who "always has to have a Boba Fett in my Star Wars lines." Of course! :)

One more thing to add to my list of brown-paper-package crossovers.

UPDATE
Oh, and check out Sillof's Samurai Wars and Steam Wars collections as well. So good.

An Old Hope.

Nearly caved in and bought Star Wars on DVD today. Came to my senses as I stood there holding the discs in my hand, about to head for the checkout. I've waited a long time; I can wait a little longer. I've bought the Trilogy twice over already, and won't be doing it again until I can get the version I really want. I might be waiting a looooong time, but that's ok. I know how to wait.

I first bought the Star Wars trilogy in 1995, when remastered versions of the original films were released on the format of the day, VHS. Two years later, the Special Editions were released with suitable fanfare, and I bought the three films again.

Though initially a fan of the SEs, as I rewatched them over the years I grew to dislike them. A lot. Almost without exception, the changes were pointless...


...ridiculous...


...or brainless.


That is the same frame up there, if you can believe it. Can you find where Wally the stormtrooper is? He's behind the dinosaur. Can you see the dinosaur? Yep, just to the lef... that's it! I still haven't found Wizard Whitebeard or the scroll, but they've got to be there somewhere.

Worse, a number of actual issues that could have benefited from revision were overlooked – the monochrome, wireframe graphic displays in the TIE fighters and X-wings, for example.


How is it that the podracer of a slave boy on a planet furthest from the bright centre of the universe has a more sophisticated display...


...than the frontline fighters of the Imperial military? Unbelievable.

The worst change of all though was Greedo shooting first.


This bewildering revision completely undermined the integrity of arguably the saga's greatest character, Han Solo. How Lucas could believe Han getting the drop on an unsuspecting Greedo was somehow contrary to Solo's character… I just don't get. And how we're meant to believe Greedo could miss from that range after minutes sitting there pointing a blaster right at his target, I get even less.

No, the SEs are no good. The remastering had improved the sound and made the colours rich and even, but the changes to the story and the characters had compromised the overall package. The earlier remastered editions didn't have that problem, but the quality of VHS still left a lot to be desired. Ideally, what I wanted, if it wasn't too much to ask, were the original cinematic versions, remastered, and on a high-definition format. Like DVD! How about it, George?

Sadly, no. When the DVDs were announced in 2004, the SEs were the only option, as Lucas said they fulfilled his original vision. But like the future, always in motion is the original vision, apparently, as the Special Editions that made their way onto DVD were different to those already released on VHS. To be fair though, this time the changes weren't just indulgent tinkering, but an attempt to make connections between the classic trilogy and the new prequel trilogy which was busy crashing down around us. But once again, what started out sounding like a good idea resulted in confusion and disaster.

Anakin Skywalker's ghost, for example, which appears at the end of Return of the Jedi, was changed from Sebastian Shaw's time-of-death visage to the youthful, Prequel-era Hayden Christensen.


What?! What's the significance of that? How come Yoda and Obi-Wan's ghosts didn't get to visit the Force fountain of eternal youth? Is Hayden somehow meant to represent a redeemed Darth Vader, perhaps? This is the same Hayden who slaughtered all those adorable little Jedi kiddies, right? Sigh.

The Specialer Editions were also another opportunity for George Lucas to ruin Boba Fett. His demolition began in Attack of the Clones with the introduction of Boba's father, Jango Fett; a character who shared more with his son than just a family name. In a failure of imagination not seen since the second Death Star, Boba and Jango wear the same armour, fly the same ship, work the same trade, and even share the same reputation. I know Boba's supposed to be a clone of his father, but isn't that taking things a little too far?

Not far enough for Lucas, apparently, who, after taking away most of what made Boba unique, took away the one thing he had left: his voice. Gravelly and menacing, Boba's voice suited the character perfectly. But with the revelation that Boba was a clone of his father, Lucas decided to re-record Boba's handful of lines from The Empire Strikes Back using the voice of Temuera Morrison, the actor who plays Jango. Once a mysterious figure of power and menace, Boba Fett is now little more than a photocopy of his father. I'm sure Lucas intended it to be some sort of tribute to a fan favourite, but in making Boba the template for the entire clone army he's completely missed the point of what made the character great.

Even if you accept the whole clone thing, this change makes no sense to me. If anything, the different voices just add to the mystery of the character. Yeah, why doesn't he have the same voice as the other clones? Maybe it's as simple as his helmet having a voice-modulator to conceal his true voice? Like Darth Vader. Sebastian Shaw's unmasked Darth Vader sounded nothing like James Earl Jones. Or maybe it's a long and complicated story that Kevin J Anderson will eventually ruin by writing a book about it.

Anyway.

Then, after most people had gone out and bought the only DVD option it looked like we'd be getting, it was announced in 2006 that the Classic Trilogy would be released again, this time in a six-disc collection containing the three SEs and their original cinematic versions as well! Hurrah!

But there was a catch.

Hurooh. The cinematic versions were a straight rip from the laserdiscs which had never been remastered. Finally the best of both worlds – original and remastered – existed in high-definition, but on different discs. That those discs came bundled in the same box only heightened the frustration. So close, yet so far, far away. Sigh.

I still cling to my old hope that Lucas will eventually get bored or whatever, and remaster the original versions just for the hell of it, but I'm not holding my breath. Lucky no one's pumping dioxis into the room. Dioxis. Sigh. "Hey idiots. Have you ever heard of carbon monoxide?"

UPDATE
Well, as was prophesied long ago, the Blu-ray version of the Star Wars saga has just been announced. To, by now, no one's surprise, the Special Editions are the only versions to make the cut. The surprise came from Lucas' explanation for not restoring the original versions, which was that it would "cost too much"! Seriously, George? Bit skint just now, are you? Has the merchandising machine broken down and you've had to stop printing money for five minutes? And remind me how much it was you spent making the Prequels? Actually, don't. Forget it.

Anyway, I don't mean to sound bitter. Really I'm not too disappointed because I'd already decided to skip Blu-ray as a format, anyway. Physical media is soooo last century. Thanks to services such as the iTunes Media Store, I expect Blu-ray will become obsolete faster than DVD did. Why spend all that money on an expensive Blu-ray player and overpriced discs when there's an option like the latest Apple TV? No need to trek down to your local retailer/renter for movies or TV shows; you can get what you want without getting off the couch. Just a few clicks of the remote, and you're away. And as my friend Glamma said in response to the news: "Nope, I genuinely don't care. It's hard to get too excited over seeing movies made in the early 80s transferred to Blu-ray." Quite so. As a Collector of Things, I don't find a digital collection as satisfying as a physical one, but the sheer convenience is undeniable. Blu-ray schmu-ray.

No, you can't always get what you want, but that's ok. There's something right about watching Star Wars on crappy old lo-fi VHS. Seems appropriate. Do you think Luke's got a Blu-ray holo-player there in his little man-shed? I don't think so; he'd have a VCR for sure. One that needed a new power converter. And its heads cleaned.

UPDATE 2
This post is already too long, but no whining about the SEs would be complete without mentioning Jabba the Hutt. That scene blows.

UPDATE 3
I know I said this post is already too long, but the hits they keep on comin'. Hot on the heels of Lucasfilm's Blu-ray announcement comes the news that the Star Wars saga is to be rereleased in 3D. In 3D. Sigh. So, remastering the originals is "too expensive", but converting them into freakin' 3D – a process that can take up to a year – isn't? You know, George, you're really not doing much to counter the widely-held belief that you're cynically exploiting the devotion of your fans for commercial gain. 

What a waste of time. I'm not a fan of 3D films at all. It's the Emperor's New Film Studio. 3D is a gimmick that adds nothing to a film, but $10 to the price of admission. I don't mind films that've been conceived as and shot in 3D, like Avatar, but two-dimensional films converted to 3D in post-production are a con; no more than a marketing ploy to generate hype and drive ticket sales. 3D is just one more thing to distract filmmakers from the most important part of a film: the story! Forget 3D. A 2D film with a three-dimensional story will beat the reverse every time.

UPDATE 4
Simon Pegg on Twitter: "Watching TPM [The Phantom Menace] in 3D would be like the car actually crashing into your face as opposed to just unfolding before your eyes." 

Gold.

UPDATE 5
One more. Just read this interview with Jeremy Bulloch by Vanity Fair. I like Bulloch. Not just because he was the original and best Boba Fett, but because he seems genuinely enthused about his role in Star Wars. He's not too cool for it, or resentful of the attention it's brought him; he seems to have greatly enjoyed his time working on the films and is grateful for the experience.

Of particular note, I was pleased to see him say he didn't think they should have changed Boba's original and "far more menacing" voice. And that's not him being precious or protective, as Boba's voice wasn't his anyway; his on-set dialogue was overdubbed by American actor, Jason Wingreen. And the bit here where Bulloch does his impression of Wingreen's voice reminded me of when I met him at a signing years ago. As I handed him my Boba headshot I asked if he could write "Survive" on it as well as his name, and he laughed as he intoned, "What if he doesn't survive…" in his best gravelly Boba impression.

Hearing Bulloch favours Boba's original voice also reminds me of when I met Timothy Zahn, the author who coined the name Coruscant for the Imperial capital. When reading the books I'd always pronounced the name as corus•cant, with a hard c. But in the films the actors all pronounced it corus•sant, with a soft c. So, as the creator, I asked Zahn how he pronounced it. "With the soft c," he told me, but he wasn't too upset as he was grateful Lucas had decided to use his name at all and not come up with one of his own. That's fair enough, but I felt validated none the less. :)

UPDATE 6
Another interesting Boba Fact: the Star Wars Holiday Special, broadcast in November 1978, has long been considered the first appearance of Boba Fett. But thanks to the Lucasfilm archives, it's been revealed his first appearance was actually two months earlier at a public parade in San Anselmo, California. Let the record show! Phew. The less we need to mention that Holiday Special, the better.

Batman for Batman.

Given how important Batman is to the people of Melbourne, I'm surprised it's taken the politicians so long to come out in his support. The Dark Knight is the hero and defender of the common man, and the politicians, well, they might not like how he gets things done, but they know how to sniff a breeze.

This is no time to be cynical, though. No, this is the time to support those who are prepared to support Batman. People like Federal Member of Parliament, Martin Ferguson AM, who is leading the charge by making Batman the focus of his election campaign.


Batman has lived in the shadows for so long, rejected and often persecuted by those he seeks to serve. A better future for Batman? Martin Ferguson, you've got my vote.

UPDATE
Hang on a second! This is a turn up. Seems Martin Ferguson isn't just supporting Batman; he's out and out working for Batman!


Forget Batman and Robin. It's Batman and Martin! I've got to say, it's great to see a politician stick their neck out like this; a politician prepared to speak with actions, not just words. Keep watching the skies, Mr Ferguson, and when the people of Melbourne need you, they will call.

Joy story.

Took Winter to see Toy Story 3 today; her first ever trip to the cinema. I'm not sure who was more excited. I just love Pixar and everything they make, and Winter couldn't believe she was going to see "a TV bigger than our TV bigger than our house even!"

When I first asked her if she'd like to see Toy Story 3, I was surprised she already knew it was out. "How have you heard about Toy Story 3?" "It's on vanilla, Dad." "What?" "Toy Story 3. It's on vanilla yoghurt." A victory for the marketers there, I think.

I was also surprised when she told me we should get popcorn at the movie! She's never been to a movie and she knows you're supposed to get popcorn? As we stood munching away while waiting in the queue to get in, she surprised me yet again when she said, "I think that's enough popcorn for now, Dad." "Oh! You think we should save some for later?" "No, I think you've had enough." Next time she can buy her own.


Going in I was quite nervous. I was very much looking forward to this film, and really didn't want to be fielding "Who's that? What's that person doing?" questions all the way through. Or worse, "Dad, I'm bored. Can we go home?" Anyway, I needn't have worried. Winter was perfect, and so was the film. As Jim Gaffigan said, "Brilliant. Is there anyway Pixar can be in charge of all entertainment?"

Yep, once again Pixar have exceeded my expectations. Predicting the usual disappointing follow-up, I groaned when Toy Story 2 was announced, but it was great! So great in fact that I couldn't decide which of the two I liked more. And it's the same with 3. While building on what's gone before, Pixar have once again crafted something entirely new. All three stories are filled with adventure, humour and genuine emotion, but they each have something unique that gives them a character of their own. Unlike a certain other trilogy, Pixar haven't remade the same film or just doubled the size of the villain. They've made the effort to craft new characters and develop a story that, while working with familiar themes, places our heroes in a whole new world. And each time they pull it off. Magnificently.

I can't think of another trilogy/series in which I'm unable to pick a favourite, or rank the films based on order of preference. Star Wars? Empire, New Hope, Jedi. Indy? Raiders, Crusade, Temple, and the other one. Toy Story? Um, well… it's a three-way tie! Lord of the Rings is about as close as I can get, but even those I could rank if you pushed me.

The three Toy Story movies sit together so well it's like they were always intended to do so. They're three acts that blend seamlessly into one. And Pixar make it seem so easy. When you're watching 3 you wonder how else it could have been done, how could the story be anything but what it is here? But reading about an alternate plot that was developed when Pixar lost the sequel rights, I realised how easily it could have been so different and, imho, worse. The "recall" plot doesn't sound convincing to me, and thankfully it was recalled itself, and Pixar were put back in charge.

For them, making movies really doesn't seem to be about the money, it's about the story, and so I can't imagine we'll ever see Toy Story 4. The story's been told, told well, and now we're done. And that's not a bad thing. I could happily watch these three for the rest of my days. They're just so good. Thanks Pixar for all the joy.

Star and the Wars.

Just read one of the best reviews of Star Wars I've ever read, and it's not even about Star Wars. It's about Sex and the City 2. And the guy hasn't even seen it. Gold.

UPDATE
And the Star Wars good stuff just keeps coming today. Got a few good giggles out of this one: General Dodonna launches the iPad.

UPDATE 2
Michael J Nelson tweets: "Had to review Sex and the City 2. As a result I now hate sex, cities, conjunctions, articles and numerals."

Happy Star Wars (tm) Day 2010.

Happy Star Wars (tm) Day everyone. May the Fourth be with you.

How was your Star Wars year? Much been happening? Personal Star Wars highlight of the year for me came from 30 Rock, to which I was recently introduced. The main character, Liz Lemon, is, among other things, a Star Wars dork, but to my surprise her love is portrayed sympathetically. We laugh with the character, rather than at her. Instead of the usual jokes about sociopathic man-child Star Wars fans with poor personal hygiene living in their parents’ basement, we get something fresh and inventive. The “Uncanny valley” exchange between Tracy and Frank from the season 2 episode, ’Succession’, was a particular standout.

Personal lowlight of the year was watching a 70-minute video review of The Phantom Menace by one Mr. Harry Plinkett from RedLetterMedia. Lowlight not because it was bad – it was brilliant – but because it drove home with the force of a pick-axe how truly terrible The Phantom Menace is and how different things could have been if someone other than George had been in charge. To compound the misery, Plinkett has just released a follow-up review of Attack of the Clones. Sigh.

But let’s not finish on a low. Let’s peek ahead to a possible highlight of the upcoming year: Star Wars Uncut. Someone has chopped A New Hope into 15-second clips, bunged it on the web and enabled anyone – anyone – to upload their own 15-second remakes! Brilliant. Video, illustration, stop-motion, whatever… it’s a tapestry of almost unlimited variety and colour. I've already lost a day browsing through the many clips. It is a mixed bag, but there's plenty of goodness there. Once complete, the best clips will be spliced together to create the ultimate fan homage to the film we know and love.

Hopefully Han will shoot first.

UPDATE
And in honour of The Empire Strikes Back's 30th anniversary, do please enjoy this review by Dan Moren of the best Star Wars film of all. :) Perfect.

Savour.

I've just discovered a rival service to Twitter. It's called Savour.


It's a service that lets you make the most of all the great things that happen to you throughout the day.

It's free, and you don't need to sign up or anything, but the best thing about it is you can access the service from anywhere. Don't have 3G reception? Don't need it. Don't have an iPhone? Don't need one. It's that simple.

So if you're out having a great time with friends, or you're at the park playing with your kids, or you're sitting somewhere just watching the world go by… don't tweet it, savour it.

I'm hoping to use it a lot.

Highly Recommended.

Given the obvious retort, the longevity of this image in bus shelters across Melbourne continues to surprise me.


Well, if it was that uncrowded, I'd prefer public transport, too.

You'd think in the current climate of seething commuter frustration over chronic overcrowding, Metlink would take an ad like this down out of embarrassment. But no, they leave it up and, like an armpit in peak hour, they rub our faces in it. They even put up a billboard to make sure we got the message.


I mean, how can anyone take this ad seriously? How could those who approved the image have seen it and not thought, "Wow, we're kind of leaving ourselves wide open with this one, hey? Um, what else have you got?"

Something a little more reflective of reality may not excite the Metlink marketing department, but at least it gives potential commuters a better idea of what to expect, wouldn't you say?


And their next attempt on the theme wasn't much better. "How can we make public transport more appealing?"


"Well, we could tell people it's like travelling beneath a giant shark!" What?

And then along came a whimsical little campaign where some folksy fellow (who bore a striking resemblance to the delightful Frank Woodley), highly recommends I get on the bus.


Just weird.

First of all, who is this man and why should I listen to his opinion on buses? What does he know about them that I don't? More importantly, what does he know about me and my particular transport needs? Nothing! The arrogance of him to suggest I need to do anything.

Secondly, why is he highly recommending the bus but not other forms of public transport? Are buses now fully fitted out with Human Touch massage chairs perhaps? Because I'd go out of my way to catch a bus with Human Touch massage chairs on board. Is that what he means? Who knows. He doesn't expand. He just waves and tells me again to get on the bus.

But most importantly, what's with the wording? I highly recommend you get on the bus? Is it just me, or does that sound like a threat? Thinly veiled and menacing, delivered through gritted teeth, like you wouldn't want to find out what'll happen if you don't get on the bus. Don't make the man with the acoustic guitar mad. You wouldn't like him if he was mad. "Nice little car you've got here. Be a shame if something… happened to it, you know? If it had a little… accident, you know? I highly recommend you get on the bus." Shudder.

And would it be unkind of me to ask if you're highly recommending the bus to people with myki cards? Yes, it would be unkind. I know your campaign pre-dates the "launch" of myki. That was a cheap shot. I apologise.

Then a few months later it was revealed the man didn't just look like Frank Woodley, it was Frank Woodley!


Well, ok; now I know who you are, but I'm still not sure why you're qualified to offer an opinion on the merits of travelling by bus. In fact, if your regular job is telling jokes, how do I know I'm now supposed to be taking you seriously and not waiting for a punchline? How do I know you've even ever travelled on a bus and aren't just being paid to smile and play a quaint little jingle for us?

Because I'll tell you what I do know: when I used to catch the bus, I found them to be highly unreliable. I spent more time than you'd believe standing at a stop, staring off to the horizon, waiting for a bus that never turned up. It happened so often that eventually a friend highly recommended I get a bike. Which I did, and my journey to and from work has been the better for it ever since.

I don't know. Public transport just doesn't seem like it should be so hard to advertise. We lurch from one lame campaign to another, and even when they get it right, they still manage to get it wrong. Not even bringing Harry Connick, Jr. on board worked. In fact that campaign was arguably the greatest train wreck of the lot. Shudder.

Here, I've got a recommendation of my own. You know what I love about public transport? I love getting to read my book. Or watch TV on my iPhone. I love getting to stare out the window and daydream – or close my eyes and doze – without the fear of crashing into anything. I love not having to buy petrol or pay for parking. I love not having to worry about what speed I'm doing or whether I can make that orange light before it turns red. I mean, there's your campaign right there, Metlink. Focussing on the benefits rather than trying to be too clever is highly recommend, and I think you'll find your customers will prefer it.

UPDATE
I've since learned that the shark pictured above is a whale shark; a breed often used by shark aficionados to counter the popular misconception that all sharks are ferocious man-eaters. Don't think you're safe in you're plankton though, because the whale shark murders them by the boatload. So, it's not the deadly killing-machine I'd been counting on to support my argument, but I still say using any shark to sell PT is an odd choice. In advertising instinctive responses are important, and my first response was SHAAAAAARK! I only learned it was a loveable whale shark by asking friends, and then of its preference for plankton over warm human flesh only by extended reading on the Internet. By contrast, 0.125 seconds after seeing the poster I'd decided that if that's what public transport is like, I'll see you tomorrow from behind the wheel of my car. Shark.

UPDATE 2
Incidentally, did you note the freelance editorial update to the Metlink billboard above? Some activist has clambered up there with a spray can and crossed out 'public transport' so the message reads, 'Nature prefers a nuclear free future. Habitit.' How odd. I mean, if you're going to vandalise a billboard advertising public transport, shouldn't it be to make some kind of comment on public transport? Has Metlink started using nuclear powered trains? No? Well why are you attacking their environmental message to promote your own? A little selfish, isn't it? It's great that you care about the environment, but so does Metlink. They're on your side, friend. Or were, until you climbed up and ruined their ad.

UPDATE 3
Got off at Flinders St Station today noticed this little poster.


Good point, Metro! You've convinced me. That wasn't so hard now, was it? Not sure why you're putting it up at a train station though? Preaching to the converted, aren't you? I mean, everyone reading your good sense is already going on, taking the train, right? Surely you'd be better off getting your message out somewhere like, oh, I don't know, somewhere there are people in cars reading road maps? Just a thought.

Batmania.

There are many things I love about my hometown, Melbourne; not least of which is the number of statues, plaques and monuments dotted around the area dedicated to Batman. (Something I'm not sure even Gotham itself can claim.) Sure, sure, they may not be in honour of the Dark Knight, but rather the farmer, businessman and early settler in the region, John Batman, but knowing that doesn't lessen the pleasure in seeing a plaque marking Batman's Hill.


Cool! Whoever may have been the inspiration, the first time I saw the above plaque I read the name as bat•man, not bat•mun. But then, I have tendency to refer to the historical figure as bat•man as well; if only to even out the effect of my Dad, who persists in pronouncing the superhero as bat•mun, though I've corrected him many times.

And imagine getting to start your commute each morning from Batman Station! For a lucky group of commuters in North Coburg, that's exactly what they do.


Cool! Sure, the station itself is no Grand Central Station, but as long as a train can roll through it it doesn't need to be. And the gangs of suspicious youths loitering around only add to the mystique. You actually half expect Batman to swoop down at any moment to sort them all out and demand to know where the Joker's lair is located. I'll tell you where it definitely won't be: Batman Park, Northcote, that's where.


Cool! Although maybe the Joker should set himself up there. It's the one place the cops would never think to look!

And just imagine one of the proposed names for Melbourne, Batmania, (à la Tasmania), had actually made the final cut! Should have. I mean, what's Lord Melbourne really done for the world? Batman on the other hand, well, how many times does a man need to save the world to get a city named after him? Keep up the good fight, Bats. If there's any justice in the world, you'll get the recognition you deserve one day. Until then, hopefully having an avenue named in your honour will do. :)

The Annual Christmas Slurpee Toss 2009.

November 9, 2009 marked the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Around the world, people paused to reflect not only on the evil of which man is capable, but how hope and freedom will always conquer tyranny in the end.

But in Templestowe, an outer north-eastern suburb of Melbourne famed for its "latte lifestyle", the anniversary on the minds of most people was a far more recent one: the fall of Bart. Though almost a full year had passed since Ahab brought the perennial champion crashing to the ground, the shockwaves could still be felt by the locals as they sat drinking their lattes in one of the suburb's innumerable cafes.

Bart had ruled as king for so long that few could imagine the title belonging to anyone else. Since the very first Toss he'd sat securely upon his throne as wave after wave of challengers hurled themselves against his fortress walls. The one interruption to his rule came in 2004 when Benn usurped the throne while the King was away touring other lands. Upon his return Bart swiftly reclaimed the title, of course, and there in his iron fist it seemed destined to remain. If madness is repeating the same task expecting a different outcome, then surely all those who turned up year after year to stand against Bart were mad dog bent up sideways barking fruitcake scented mad?

Well, possibly, but they could also have been students of history; for history has shown us that even the most formidable wall cannot stand forever.

And so it was with Bart.

Invincible though he seemed, the years finally took their toll and a crack appeared in his defences. A crack may be small, but a crack can grow. And as it grows, a crack can become a way in. And in 2008, it was Ahab who found a way in, bursting through to victory as the great wall collapsed around him. The impossible became possible and History was written.

But as Ahab's Slurpee cup came crashing to the ground the question everyone was asking was could he do it again? Had he won, or had Bart simply lost? It was a good question – if a little mean-spirited – but one that today remains unanswered. For on the eve of the 2009 Toss, citing personal reasons that required his attention, Bart pulled out of the competition.

Disappointed yet understanding, Bart's fellow competitors wished him a speedy resolution and the hope of seeing him back on the pitch next year. And not to question the sincerity of the response, but you'd have to think a few of the tossers were quietly pleased. For many Bart's absence was without doubt their best chance to claim a title of their own. Sure, a victory won without contesting Bart might not have the glorious refulgence of one that did, but a title is a title – a testament that all who rose against you were defeated – and for most, that's enough.

As the great day dawned there was another late withdrawal from the competition. After checking his symptoms with Dr Wikipedia, Cobbies diagnosed himself with a 'cluster headache' and went back to bed. A rare but debilitating neurological condition, cluster headaches commonly afflict those working long hours in stressful jobs while maintaining a diet rich in tobacco and alcohol. An important health message for us all there, I think. However close to death Cobbies may have been, he would have wanted the tossers to go on, and so go on they did.

Kicking things off for 2009 was Post. His dream to hold all three Templetitles at once remained unfilled, and Toss King had proved most elusive of all. But at one time or another he'd beaten all in this field besides the two rookies, and he knew his time was now.


Brow furrowed, he pounded down the pitch and sent his cup arcing into the air with a snarl. While not his strongest toss, it still travelled a good distance, coming to rest a couple of metres short of the far side of the court. Would it be enough? Only time would tell.

In recognition of the increasing lady contingent competing at the Toss, a women's league was established and a new title, Toss Queen, joined Toss King and The Jack in the Tossing monarchy. The first lady up to stake her claim was Kate (with cheer squad in tow).


When she appeared to hesitate, Davet offered some advice from the stands. "Don't think, Kate," he called out, "just do." It sounded good in theory, but when Kate stepped down the pitch she larked her cup straight up in to the air! It crashed down onto the brick path several metres away, setting a very beatable mark for those to come. I guess that's what happens when you listen to advice from the only competitor to ever toss backwards.

Speaking of which, to better his effort of 2008, Davet needed only to stand at the tossing line and drop his cup at his feet. As he stepped onto the pitch, Kate offered some advice of her own. "Davet, you know how normally you don't think, you do? Maybe this time try thinking?"


And try he did, as Davet sent his cup sailing not only in the right direction but a good distance as well, thumping down a metre or two behind Post and putting Davet in contention for The Jack. Davet thought back to last year and breathed a sigh of relief.

Next to the line – to the surprise of all – was Kirst. Though she'd grown up around Slurpees and knew her way around a cup, she'd never competed in the Annual Toss. But this year, perhaps at the urging of her fiancée Nick, she pulled on the icy gloves and showed us what we'd been missing.


Employing the lateral sweep first used by Bart back in 2007, the southpaw sent her cup flying fast and low over the court, crashing down just short of the centre circle. It would have been an impressive toss for a veteran, but such a result on debut marks Kirst as a force to watch.

Though never a strong performer at the Toss, Glamma's fans were hoping he could find some of the form he's had on display at the Birdbath Cup over the last two years.


And things looked good as he sent his cup hurtling skyward with a perfectly executed dash and toss. Flying straight as a die, the only thing his cup lacked was the power to travel in to the lead and it hit the ground a metre or so behind Davet. Perhaps a solid pre-season next year will see his standing improve?

At her last appearance at the Slurpee Toss, Bambi had set a personal best with a thumping toss. This year she hoped to go one better, but she'd need to beat Kirst's mark to do so and that didn't look an easy task.


Storming down the pitch in her customary bare feet, she roosted her cup into the air, and sent it crashing down just short of Kirst! So close, yet so far away.

All are welcome at the Toss, but particularly so when they come with the enthusiasm of Nick. Though having never tossed a cup in competition, he was obviously a keen student of the game and full of theories on how best to approach his maiden toss.


And his theories converted well to practice, as with a smooth swing he sent his cup flying over the court and thumping down a foot or so behind Davet. No plasticware for Nick, but a very promising debut nonetheless.

The penultimate toss of 2009 belonged to maiden tosser Pip. Recently introduced to the sport by Davet, it appeared he'd given her some instruction as well. For just like his effort last year, Pip bounded down the pitch and swung into action but forgot to let go!


Her cup flew from her hand and into the ground, where it spun off a good distance to her left. Well, she at least avoided the ignominy of sending it backwards, I guess? And though Pip may have walked away with nothing but the Plastic Straw, her enthusiasm was commendable and we hope to see her back next year for another try.

And finally, the moment all had been waiting for. Up stepped the Toss King and Holder of the Soggy Biscuit, Ahab. Poised and confident he eased down the pitch and launched a textbook toss into the air.


Gliding straight and steady in a graceful arc, his cup came to rest just short of the gutter on the far side of the court, landing Ahab in first place. It also landed him in the record books again, this time as the only person other than Bart to successfully defend his title. And though his cup may not have travelled down into Bart's domain on the lower court, it really was a magnificent toss. In fact, let's see that in Instant Replay:


That's how you do it, kids. The now two-time King and current Keeper of the FNOath really should be pushing to resurrect the Super Slurpee Demolition Competition because, I'll tell you, on current form the triple Templetitle would be his.

Below left: Ahab leaving a spangled trail of glory. Below right: Ahab, 2009 Slurpee Toss King.


We'll see you (and hopefully Bart, ready to go head to head against Ahab) back here next year!

The Final Results (official).
MENS: 1. Ahab (Toss King); 2. Post (The Jack); 3. Nick; 4. Davet; 5. Glamma.
WOMENS: 1. Kirst (Toss Queen); 2. Bambi; 3. Kate; 4. Pip (Plastic Straw).

Too much Slurpee blogging barely enough?
Keep on Stolping: The First Pour–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009.
Keep on Tossing: Dawn of Time–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008.
Keep on Demolishing: The Alpha and the Omega.

The Annual Christmas Stolp 2009.

Aaah, Christmas. Snow on the ground, a roaring fire in the hearth, a glow on our faces and in our hearts as we gather around the piano, drinking eggnog and singing Yuletide carols.

Except for us in the southern hemisphere, of course. [Insert screech of needle being dragged across record.] Down here the traditional images of Christmas are suffocated in the stifling heat and burnt to a crisp 'neath the blazing Australian sun. The icy contents of a Slurpee cup and the frosty glances exchanged by the competitors in the Annual Slurpee Toss is about as cold as it gets.

And so it was with surprise that as the stolpers gathered outside the Templestowe Fish Balloon they looked up to see brooding grey clouds scudding their way across the late morning sky. Surprise, and some relief. After all, if you can step out and stretch your legs without the fear of melting in a pool of sweat or combusting in a ball of flame, then all the better.


This year saw a triple debut with Nick, Pip and Harper swelling the ranks and joining in the traditional Christmas fun with a smile and a laugh. Bart and Cobbies, two of the five pillars of stolping, were absent and sorely missed, but we're sure to see them back next year.

So stick around now for the Slurpee Toss and we'll see you in '10!

Incidentally, on that, is it just me saying 'oh-ten' for the shortened form of 2010, or are others doing it as well? I've become so used to the leading 'o' throughout the aughts that I'm finding it hard to leave behind. Tacking 09 or whatever onto the end of something quite clearly said 'year', Kevin07, for example, but 10 just seems confusing. Kevin10. What? Anyway, I wonder if my great aunt had this problem back in the early 1900s? Probably not as she was only nine at the time, but she may have heard her parents talking about it? If only I'd thought to ask when she was still with us. Continue resting in peace, Dotta. We still miss you and your endless games of chess with cups of tea and sponge finger biscuits.

UPDATE
Oddly enough, I posted this and switched to the Twitter, where I noticed a friend type 2010 as '010. Hardly seems worth it, really. It's still four key presses. Not like you're saving any time, or really any space. I guess he's just having trouble letting go as well.

Too much Slurpee blogging barely enough?
Keep on Stolping: The First Pour–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008.
Keep on Tossing: Dawn of Time–2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009.
Keep on Demolishing: The Alpha and the Omega.

offki.

Myki, Melbourne's trouble-plaugued new ticketing system, is like a newborn elephant right now. A clumsy hulking mass, lumbering around, crashing into things and desperately trying to stay up on its weak and shaky legs. And everyone's standing around pointing and laughing at the flailing beast, which is fair enough, as Kamco or the state government or whoever has brought this on themselves. What a circus. But it's so large and easy a target that I found myself wanting to be generous and give them a break.

That was until I headed out this morning with my shiny new myki and tried to use the freakin' thing.

I was one of the lucky many who got mailed a concession card, even though I hadn't asked for one. On to the phone and I was assured by a recorded message that everything was fine with the card; it actually was full-fare and there'd been a computer error when printing the letters. Computers. Ha. When will we learn?

So, I left home early this morning to make sure I had plenty of time to add credit to my card before using it. There's only one top-up machine at my station and it's on the outbound platform 2, so I pedalled over and checked my watch. Plenty of time. I placed my myki where instructed, worked my way through all the options and was told to insert my debit card, done, and remove it, done. Remove the card, please. I have. Remove the card, please. I HAVE? Hello? Re-insert/withdraw. No change. Cancel. Try again. Same result. Cancel. Try again with different card. Same result. Toooooooot! What? Argh, my train! Cancel, cancel, cancel, back on my bike, over the tracks for a Metcard, please use a smaller denomination note, what? argh! come on! remember to validate your ticket before you travel, I know, I know! give me the ticket!! beep, beep, beep and I'm away. Phew. Enough time is never enough time.

Got to Southern Cross and saw a myki blueshirt standing around the upper concourse exit, handing out brochures. I went over and asked where the nearest top-up machine was. He looked around and ummed, before going over to ask his supervisor. She told me there wasn't a top-up machine up here and that I had to go to the "myki discovery centre" on the other side on the station. Surprised (and not surprised), I headed off and discovered one on the other side of the newsagent booth she was standing next to. Sigh. Possibly she meant, "There are no working machines up here," because this one didn't work either. Same problem. So I kept walking down to the discovery centre, only to discover it doesn't open until 9am. Which was 40 minutes away. Sigh.


At lunch time I made my way back to myki central and explained my problem to the two ladies at the counter. Because nothing could ever be wrong with the machine, they concluded the problem was with me. "You can't put myki into the debit card slot," one of them told me with a smile. "That won't work." I assured them I had placed myki where I was instructed to and anyway could they put credit onto my card now? They couldn't, of course, because the myki discovery centre doesn't have a top-up machine in it. I mean, why would it? What do they have in there? Well, there are some card readers so they can demonstrate how to touch on and off with your card; they just can't get your card working in the first place.

Although it turns out, they can! "Would you escort the gentlemen," said the elder woman to the younger, "up to the machine and assist him with his card?" Why certainly. Out she came from behind her desk and off we trekked, back to the upper level where I was led by an expert hand through all the same steps… for the same result. "Oh," the woman said in surprise. "Um, the EFTPOS connection between the machines and the bank must be down. Everywhere. Maybe try again later?" Sigh.

I did try again later, the next day, and the machine stubbornly persisted in requesting I remove my debit card after I'd already removed it, so I gave up and bought a new Monthly Metcard. I'm hoping, John Rees-style, that by the time it expires this myki mess will be sorted out. I guess we'll see.

Myki. It's your key. To something. We're just not sure what. Try your house, maybe? And let us know how you go. Thanks.

UPDATE
Walked past the lone myki top-up machine at Melbourne's busiest station today, and guess what I saw?


I'm sure there wasn't anything wrong with the machine. Just a routine maintenance call to, I don't know, empty the coin bin or something? Although the man was still at it an hour later when I walked past again, so who knows? Probably some idiot got their myki stuck in the credit card slot or something? I hear that happens a lot. Sigh. The man wasn't there at the end of the day, so I guess the machine's all back to normal. So, you know. Yeah.

Random Lyric from The Song I Was Listening To.

Around eight years ago I woke up one morning and decided the waiting had gone on long enough. It was time to enquire of Kate as to whether she'd be good enough to take my hand in marriage. Naturally, such an enquiry couldn't be made by just, you know, asking her. No, it had to be unnecessarily complicated, and so I sat down and carefully devised a complicated plan.

The first step was to post her an anonymous invitation to participate in what would be known as The Journey. Should she accept, via an email address included with the invitation, she would then be required to unravel a series of clues that led to various locations around Melbourne where instructions would be found on how to locate one of five Waymarkers. When collected, the five markers would need to be arranged in a particular way to reveal the proposal of marriage.

What sort of a woman, you might ask, would do anything other than throw a creepy anonymous invitation directly into the bin? And wouldn't Kate just assume it had come from me anyway? Well, besides the fact that I'm inherently not creepy and surely she'd never think such a thing, I had one big factor working in my favour. A friend of ours had recently concluded a wide-ranging, clue-based scavenger hunt that she'd set in motion with anonymous invitations. I thought it likely that if Kate would assume it was anyone, she'd assume it was our friend and not me.

And so I had my plan. It was bold, it was ambitious, it was doomed.

In all my careful planning, I'd failed to count on the cleverness of my quarry. Though she accepted the invitation, she never accepted my desire to pull strings from the shadows, and before long she successfully hacked into the email account I'd set up and discovered who I was. In a nice touch, before logging out she left a little present in my Inbox: an email from "myself" saying only, "I know who you are."

The next time I logged in, I discovered the game was up. Furious that my plan had come undone, I put the proposal on hold indefinitely. Partly to give myself time to come up with a new scheme, but mostly just to punish her for spoiling my surprise. So perhaps she wasn't so smart after all?

Anyway, all of this was brought to mind recently when my "old mate" Guy Shield proposed to his girlfriend in a similar piece-the-parts-together way. Where mine had been primarily word-based though, he used illustration. Which of course he would, given how exceptionally talented an illustrator he is. Pop on over to his post for the story.


Although, it's quite possible you've heard the story already. Because the Internet went a little nuts with this one. First, the illustration weblog Drawn, got onto it, and soon the Twitterverse followed, as thousands of people retweeted each other into oblivion. Scores of other links followed, including prominent Adobe identity, John Nack, and just when things seem to have settled down, someone called Joanna Goddard sent Guy's Google Analytics graph spiking into the stratosphere all over again. All thoroughly deserved, of course, as it really was a brilliant proposal. And not even the reminder of my own failed scheme can spoil the pleasure of his tale.

Congratulations to you and Liz, Guy. Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame, and your lifetime of wedded bliss as well.

UPDATE
Guy's been "practising his hand-created type" again...

UPDATE 2
What's the point in being an internet phenomenon if you can't get FREE STUFF out of it? And now, thanks to some wedding website called 'The Knot', Guy's got the chance to win a FREE trip to Hawaii! If you enjoyed his story, pop on over to The Knot's 'Best Proposal Competition' and throw him a vote. If he wins, he's promised to pick up a lei for everyone who does.

UPDATE 3
He hasn't actually promised to pick up a lei for everyone who votes for him. I just made that up. Good idea, though. Completely impractical, but then that's the way it goes with love, hey?