Monthly Archives: September 2016

I Lost on Jeopardy… 

I’ll take things that can be mixed for 500 Alex… 

  • Vodka and tonic 
  • Cake batter
  • Receptions
  • Feelings 
  • Reviews 

And of course tapes…

When I buy stuff it’s not always to keep the wolf from the door, because the wolfs just a puppy and the doers double locked, so why you got to worry me for? (Apologies to Passanger). I also buy stuff because it amuses me, or makes me think of a joke, or a stokes the coal on a train of thought. My brain seems to thrive on wordgames and esoteric stimulation, and bad puns more often than not. I’m not sure if it falls into observational humor, or prop comedy, or somewhere in between. Maybe it’s just my equivalent of a pile of badly typed conversation starter cards.  A reason to talk (or write as the case may be) about something apart from relationship issues and what’s on the telly. 

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95% of the Time it’s Fine… 

I’m single. I’ve not always been single. In maths terms (which there will be more of this post) I’ve been single for less than 20% of my adult life. 95% of the time I’m ok with singledom, or I’m not all Bridget Jones about it at least. What about the 5%? Well that’s where The Block comes in (Whick is a renovation show on TV – for those outside my hemisphere), more specifically The Block and Twitter. 99% of the enjoyment that can be had from bad TV and Movies is the acerbic, sarcastic and generally witty cometary that two or more people make during the show. The more astute and critical the company, and the more predictable and transparent the show the better it becomes. So Twitter has become sort of surrogate couch partner to quip with, unfortunately it is a partner that mainly watches shows like The Bachelor etc. So if I fancy a bit of banter I have to whore myself out there to mainstream reality TV. Trust me you don’t get a lot of action with a documentary on the inventer of the seed drill, or a retrospective on a flute based prog rock band*. 

The reason The Block has become my Twitter companion, apart from its active user group, is that it has a bonus round. You can on occasion get your pithy comments on the show it self, resulting in much congratulating and backslapping. 

I must admit they got me hooked on the first night by running my tweet in the “pimp” spot, the big scrolling halfway point ad. A prime time spot so prominent that even my ex-wife texted me to mention it. And I must admit the idea of my stupid face and trademark sarcastic quips popping up on the screen as she sat with her boyfriend watching a bit of relaxing TV was quite amusing, to me at least. 

The only real problem is that I’m forced to moderate the more acid comments and keep my tweets primetime friendly if I want that 2 seconds of not really fame. Trust me in a couch, glass of wine and bad TV I’m a bit more cutting edge. A bit like TV comedians that are quite sedate on TV, but work as blue as possible in a live show. Cheap puns seem to be the way to go, or comments about the host that are positive, and possible contain a pun for the double shot.

Not my best work, but you get the idea. The point is more to address that pesky human need to occasionally interact with people to avoid that whole wearing tissue boxes on your feet and collecting your own urine in jars. As stated before 95% fine. 5% could use a handy human shaped analog to bounce things off… 

*they are both called Jethro Tull.

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Who Cleans the Holodeck?… 

I have been watching Star Trek DS9, TNG and Voyager, in all three it is alluded to that people are having sex with the holograms, fair enough, long journey, limited choices, I’m not going to judge. My concern here is what happens after your hardlight date, when you switch off the holograms? Not to be indelicate but any issue that was being contained by your holographic dream girl or guy would be deposited directly on the floor the instant you say “Computer end program”. Two issues are raised here, one of etiquette and the other of health and safety. Obviously health and safety would involve slip hazards and biological waste, and etiquette would be similar to wiping down the exercise equipment in the gym. So what I’m really getting at her is, is there some kind of mop squeegee thing in the corner cupboard of the holodeck, or is there a fancy space version of the robovac the scoots out and cleans up after you?

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I woke up today in the same mood I went to bed with the previous night. That mood was a bit black, not pitch, but certainly a moonlight free night with only the occasional pinhole of starlight black. So with my dark cloud hovering at a jaunty angle I consumed a cup of coffee and a bowl of Froot Loops (don’t judge me). Wearing my best fugue, I headed off to get some check the opshop and get some more milk, as I had used the last of it in the aforementioned sugary breakfast treat. 

I arrived at the opshop, found the carapace that wasn’t being taken up by someone incapable of parking between the lines, not as easy to find as it should be. I mean the reason they paint the lines there is to show you where to park, but hey you’ve got a great big fuck you 4wd you can just do what you like, you don’t care if people think you’re a wanker…. ummm where was I? Oh yeah that’s right the opshop. So I do my regular search pattern, records, bric-a-brac, furniture, jewelry and books. That order is not arbitrary, it is the most efficient plan of attack for that particular opshop, and the most efficient way to get to all the good stuff before the meandering no plan losers that miss all the good stuff. Yes I am a model of efficient bastardry when it comes to opshops, markets and garage sales. 

I had almost finished the lap and was coming up empty handed, and my mood wasn’t improved by the lack of endorphin inducing bargains. So I’m at the end of my opshop dance routine, comencing the grand finale of a quick scan of the book section. My last chance for a small hit of thrifty satisfaction lay in the musky bit. 

And satisfaction was had, while checking to see what edition a copy of Life, The Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams, one of my favorite authors. I found this –

…and my day suddenly seemed a whole lot better. Something about finding that signature triggered some of the good shit in my brain. My first time reading Hitchers, watching the TV show with my Dad and stepmother in a terrace house on a tiny TV. My visit to Highgate Cemetery to leave a pen at his grave. 

A long dark tea time of day was suddenly a plentiful with fish.

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Is this your Card?…

I sometimes envy people that can have one interest, and focus on it. I’m more of a dive in, get a working knowledge, then get bored and move on to the next thing. You can put a positive spin on that by calling yourself a “renaissance man” which is fancy talk for distracted by shiney things. My current shiney thing is magic, or to be more precise the mechanics of stage magic. I don’t have any desire to wear a cape and get my wand out (that shit will get you arrested). I don’t even have any desire to saw a woman in half, not even the ex-wife (that shit will definitely get you arrested). But the mechanics of tricks is fascinating, to me anyway. So finding an old magic book in the local opshop, obviously leads to searching for more. Three found so far this week. 

Great cover on the Houdini book, but nothing you haven’t seen on the masked magician reveals type of show.

A better book, with lots of nice cross section diagrams and in depth explanations.

And from a brief flick through this one seems much more to my taste, with a fair bit of close up magic and detailed drawings for props. I’m looking forward to having a bit of proper down town after I move to really hide in a comfy chair with many cups of tea, and do some proper reading… 

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