The Incredible Hulk: A Review

Photo by red5standingby

Incredible Hulk is a solid popcorn flick that's heavy on action without sacrificing character work.

After an experiment goes wrong, brilliant-yet-wimpy scientist Bruce Banner receives a massive dose of gamma radiation. He is not immediately reduced to a fine, grey mist, as you would expect. Whenever he gets angry, he transforms into the ten-foot tall jade giant The Incredible Hulk, whose amazing strength and durability only increases as his anger rages on!

Incredible Hulk stands in contrast to the previous Hulk film, which was a solid effort that's only major flaw was failing to mesh with audience expectations. Whereas Hulk examined the psychological aspects inherent in Banner's situation, the Incredible Hulk plays it more overtly.

This new film, while informed by its predecessor, is a reboot of the franchise. While it's a fresh take, there's real benefit in not having to go-over the origin again. It's told in tight flashes under the opening credits and that's really all you need. the new status quo is laid in as the movie progresses.



Incredible was a fun movie. It's more in line with what one expects going into a Hulk film - action of the giant green punching variety - while not going to far in that direction.

Edward Norton does well with the lead character, and is convincing as a man on the run who sees his powers as a curse. Liv Tyler is likable as his love interest Betty, although I would've like to have seen her thought on her boyfriend's, you know, being a monster played out a little more. Tim Roth oozes slime as the villain of the piece, who goes to desperate measures to find revenge and a measure of immortality.



The Hulk looks good. He's obviously CGI in places but if you're not suspending disbelief during the film then you;re in the wrong place. I'm sure they've captured Norton in some way and impressively his acting does show though in the Hulk's behaviour. He's about ten feet tall in the film - probably five feet shorter than the last film - and I liked that. He felt more like a mutated man than a sci-fi creature. When Betty tried to reason with him, I had hope.

While it's never overtly stated, there's the impression that the Hulk is a separate entity from banner, but that Bruce is in there somewhere, and can influence the Hulk's rage. That was cool.

Also cool was having the Hulk. A few guttural phrases here and there, but it was a nice touch.



There were only three action pieces in the movie - Hulk v commandos, Hulk v army and Hulk v evil Hulk.



The first one was excellent, with the Hulk sticking mainly to the shadows with his main aim being escape. Commandos throw all they have at him, they're focused and fighting for their lives, while he says only 'leave me alone' and tries to leave.



Hulk v army was cool as we got some cool, visible action. The action was shot well in that it didn't succumb to the ultra-quick cuts that generally befall these things. When Hulk picks up a tank and uses it to smash another tank, we follow the action through. It was a welcome relief.



The final fight between Hulk and evil Hulk was cool, but I stopped feeling it after a while, given that it was two giant fictional dudes swinging punches. But I did like the very end when you see these guys just open up and be brutal knuckle fighters. Was good.



There were some nice shout-outs and possible foreshadows for fans, but like in Iron Man, I didn't feel they derailed the story.



I got more out of this film than I thought I would. Honestly, after Iron Man and Dark Knight, I thought this just wouldn't live up. But it wasn't the Michael Bayesque splosiomotron I had expected. All the characters had motivations and acted accordingly. I liked it.



Random things: Poor Betty Ross's boyfriend. Dropped like a stone for Frankenstein. Whenever two giant green monsters fight, there's always a mother looking horrified and shielding her child with her arm, but not leaving the area. Dropping Bruce from a helicopter was pure Ultimates rip-off but that's OK because it was awesome. General Ross was cool. The pain in that dude's eyes when Roth hulks out? I felt that. If I could have boxing gloves made out of a police car, I would use them all the time.

It came ... from between the ears!

Coherent thought is beyond me at the moment, but random thoughts are mine to command!

Guitar Hero: World Tour is funner than it has any right to be. With me on guitar and Leen on skins, our house has been a whirlwind trip of fame and fortune for close to a week. The good thing is that, with the two of us, no-one has to do the embarrassing singing. But when others arrive on the scene? Off the hook.

Signing up to X-Box Live is more complicated than, well, anything I have experienced of late.

I have idly watched the first season of Eureka, a TV series that came with the ringing endorsement of me never having heard of it before. The premise is great: It's set in a secret town populated by America's brightest scientists, which has quietly made every scientific breakthrough we've known - and many that aren't. Sadly, the writing keeps it as a sunny diversion rather than a show I could really sink my teeth into. The ideas behind each episode are clever and keep you guessing, but the execution tends to go for easy laughs. Still, I'd watch season 2 if it fell in my lap.

I want to apologise for descending into angry rant territory yesterday - I'm trying to keep that to as much of a minimum as possible.

I read the concluding issue of Grant Morrison's Batman RIP today, a storyline that promised a reveal so big it would turn the earth's core into pure excitement. Now, this is Morrison we're talking about here, and admittedly I'd only sporadically followed the previous issues, but I didn't really see the big deal. I'm willing to give Morrison the benefit of the doubt and assume he was working on a different level - there was some good stuff about Bruce Wayne's state of mind that I liked. But the ending SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERS depicts Bruce Wayne possibly dying but you don't see a body. If not for factors outside of the work - interviews, hype and solicitations - I would not see this as anything out of the comic book ordinary. I do look forward to reading the story through again though, as well as the follow-up.

I should finally get a chance to see The Incredible Hulk tomorrow, I'll share my thoughts when I get a crack. I don't expect something of the Dark Knight or Iron Man level, but my mind is open and expectations have long passed, which is a good way to see a film. I did like Ang Lee's crack, upon reflection.

Has anybody read Hulk: The End? It's great, with Bruce Banner the sole survivor of a nuclear holocaust. He repeatedly attempts suicide but the Hulk always seizes control at the last moment. Love it.

I spent much of the morning swimming and floating at the pool, and it was marvelous. The temperature reached 38C so it was exceedingly pleasant. Getting out? Was lame.

Broken Hill got a Domino's Pizza this week, adding to the Herculean amount of unhealthy takeaway food on offer in this, a fat city of fatties.
In unrelated news, on Tuesday I tasted a pizza that featured four layers of cheese, an amount so dense that I almost immediately fell asleep, my body reduced to an immobile dairy processing plant.

Technology Vs The Law: Overly-Long Techno-Rant!

Image by Łukasz Strachanowski.

When I was in high school, I did not have a mobile phone, nor ready access to the Internet.
When I recalled this fact it freaked me out, as these two things have become ubiquitous in my daily life.
How did I find stuff out? How did I talk to people? Freaky.

Technology is shooting along at speeds that make The Flash look like The Flash in his fat, future body in JLA: Rock of Ages. It's confronting.

But there's one thing that even the unstoppable juggernaut of technological progress cannot overcome - the Australian Law.

Digital radio, like digital television before it, is making its way into Australia. Also like digital television, it's arriving years after the rest of the developed world, and may hobble onto the continent a crippled, tiny echo of its intended self.

Digital radio will allow for CD quality sound, multichannelling and the parallel delivery of text, song information and images.
In other parts of the world digital radio also delivers video, but in Australia, moving pictures have been outlawed to protect the fledgling digital TV platform. It's yet another example of an Australian industry that's foresight allows it to read road signs only when within three centimetres of its nose.

Digital television has massive potential, but sucks. In a move that benefited the owners of Australia's TV networks by feeding them a fine paste made of their shafted audience, multichannelling was prevented and the compulsory date for implementation of digital channels was delayed time and again. Today, capital cities enjoy some digital channels and a smattering of HD content, while regional Australia (that's me!) gets ABC2. One additional channel. Quite a revolution.

The situation moves from irritating to laughable when one considers that all of these decade-late innovations can be circumnavigated by the Internet, which grows more all-encompassing every day. Here in Australia though it quickly circles around the irritating again, as broadband speeds also lag behind the developed world. Not only is the Internet slow, but download limits force customers to utilise only a fraction of the digital smorgasbord - a meal that gets bigger each day.

But wait! The law is riding in again to ensure that even this sub-par experience will be smashed against the rocks for the benefits of a minority.
Unlike digital TV, the minority in question is not the Jack Donaughy rich. The correct answer is the ultra-conservative, right-wing, nutjob-religious, fun-police wowsers.

The Government is angling to censor the Internet via Clean Feed. In the same way that burglary can be prevented by burning down all houses, Clean Feed aims to prevent the online dissemination of child pornography by imposing a mandatory Internet filter on every computer in the country. Following this way of thinking, I may soon be locked in my house forever.

Tests so far suggest Clean Feed will slow the Internet by about 30 per, with the slowdown inversely proportional to the accuracy of the filter. In other words, the more it works, the slower the Internet gets. The filter works by blocking web pages that contain certain phrases and images, but cannot determine context. Due to this, a legion of web pages that are not inappropriate will be blocked.
In fact, if I make the statement "I am not in favour of child pornography" - one I am intensely comfortable in making - there is a chance this blog will be blocked.
It's weird, as such a filter runs counter to the Government's other policies - such as the creation of a fibre-to-the-node network and a general desire to create equality.

But they're pushing ahead - and expanding the filter to encompass anything illegal, unsavoury or yellow - seemingly to appease a small yet vocal group of people who think free speech is ok as long as what is being said is nice.

Oh well, at least I can watch the newly-released movie version of Australia, confident in the knowledge that we have in fact come a long way, even if I'm still listening to the same radio as Nicole Kidman's character.

And I can move my forehead.


Zing!

Spiderman: Web of Shadows - A Review

I've played a fair few video games in my time, so I'm always looking for something different.

Innovation tends to drip through the medium. A first person shooter will include a new gun or mechanic while leaving the underlying game unchanged. Graphics will improve, but slowly and in isolation from other elements.

That's why I've always dug the hell out of Spiderman games - they're different.

Borrowing from the GTA sandbox, Spiderman: Web of Shadows allows you to roam freely around New York. You can push the story along via missions if you wish, or you can spend a lazy hour swinging around, beating up muggers and gracefully diving from the Empire State Building.

While past Spidey games have been enjoyable, WOS is a step up as it isn't wedded to a movie release. The story is solid and rooted in comics rather than cinema. Luke Cage, Wolverine and Moon Knight are among the guest stars, and you progress from fighting street thugs to Kingpin's troops to rogue symbiotes of the Venom variety.

You start with the abilities to web swing across the city, shoot globs of web to incapacitate foes and punch people. A light RPG element allows you to upgrade your abilities and combos. Soon you're fighting in the unique, fun style of Spiderman - something you only find, and is only relevant in, these games.

For example, you can swing down from a block away and kick a guy for hundreds of metres without stopping. You can sprint up the side of a building and slide kick a dude so he spirals to the ground below. By using webs to reel in foes and zip towards them, you can incapacitate huge groups of thugs without touching the ground. It is a blast.

Another aspect of gameplay is the ability to switch between regular spidey and his black-suited counterpart at will. Regular Spidey is lithe and agile, while the black suit makes you into a slow, devastating brute. It's a nice touch and accomodates different play styles.

The graphics are sharp - particularly the character models. Spiderman swings through the air with grace and speed. Sound is great, especially when you're high up and left with nothing but the whistling of the wind.

Above all it's fun.

At one point you have to break into a prison to rescue a mad scientist. The only way to breach the walls is to hop up onto the back of The Rhino and smash through everything.

And that's real.

On a World Tour, brb.

Photo by digiyesica.

In what can only be described as an epic failure to wait for Christmas, our household gathered around on Saturday to tear open a big, fat present.

Within lied a tangle of plastic that, when snapped together, formed Guitar Hero World Tour.

And hark! Obsession bloomed.

I will no doubt write more about the game soon, but Leen's on the skins and this axe won't shred itself.

Magic Dirt: An understated review

This picture was not taken by me, but by householdriot

Magic Dirt came to Broken Hill yesterday. They played at the Entertainment Centre at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon.
This was a strange occurrence, as bands never come here, owing to the city's status as a smallish place that is hours and hours from anywhere. In fact, when confronted with the fact that a band of note was coming to play, the common response I received was "why are they here? Who organised that?" It's a telling example of how strange it is for bands to come here. My response of "they're a band, they're here to play music for people" was met with befuddlement.

But anyway, the point is that Magic Dirt was amazingly awesome to the max and it was the greatest thing forever.

Ahem. As I write this it's only been a few hours, so I'm still grinning and giddy.

For realsies, it was an amazing performance. Magic Dirt played both the experimental, feedback infused thrashings of old and the rocking gems of new. They executed both styles well and melded them together with a lot of raw, passionate energy. The guitars snarled in this amazing, almost sci-fi way I can't describe and energy poured from the stage. Adalita is a charismatic frontwoman and it's hard to take your eyes from her a she writhes on the floor and kicks into the air, but you should, because the dudes have it goin' on. The way a guitar bounced in the guitarist's [Raul?] hands while he elicited scraping feedback from it was intricate and fascinating - and dude can adopt a wi-i-ide stance when the solo demands. And it demands.

Magic Dirt was supported by local band Soulforge who are a metal band that plays metal while dressed in metal and their mothers are made of metal. It was their first set of all original songs and they were impressive. Their sound is huge, unrelenting and solid. Their songs range from full speed metal punches to the abdomen to heavy rock anthems. Their choruses chug along in a way that you can't help but feel in your testicles. They also boast an impressive range of rock moves and poses, which is something I particularly enjoy.

The performance was frustratingly underattended. Those who were there had a blast measuring in the range of fifteen hundred megafonzies. Much of my frustration is that I wanted to rave about the performance for weeks, and I demand a larger audience.

I tried to thank the band seventeen times upon the show's completion but had to rush to work after securing an MD beer cozy. No work was done for the first two hours of my shift though, owing to important air guitar commitments.

If by any chance they read this at any time ever, thanks again.

Remarkable. I am there and I am it.

This 8x10 glossy headshot won this pony a role in

High School Musical 4. Photo by Lid Licker

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but I have two secret dreams.

1] To own an extensive pony farm that has a basement that is also a gaming room.

2] To integrate myself with the internet to such an extensive extent that web browsers will one day be replaced with a digitial image of my face laughing and rolling around. At that point I hope to be the subject of a Warren Ellis novella.

As a way of moving towards [2], today's blog post is not here.

I have a guest post up today at Geoff Klock's blog Remarkable, in which I discuss one of my favourite parts of fiction.

So pack a lunch and head over there. Spend a little while and read all of the posts, or pick some of the gems out of the sidebar. You could even comment on my post there to show the cool kids that I have friends. Why? Because ponies can't do it - ponies don't have fingers. They do, however, have the burning rage associated with not yet owning a farm.

Shopping for penis and faces

Blogged from the hip

Click click clix

Above if a blurry, poorly-lit photograph of the team I used in my inaugural game of Heroclix.

I'm big on themes, so I went with the X-Men teaming up with Spiderman, something I have seen represented in many comics.

What I have not seen in many comics, if these two flagship Marvel Comics franchises joining forces to be thoroughly destroyed.

It seems to be a fun game though, and my first crack gave me a good idea of how it plays.

But .... Wolverine totally would've beaten Omega Red if this was in the comics.

Just sayin'.

Prepare for fascination!

The above photo, a snapshot of my future, couresy of Kaptain Kobold.

As some of you may be aware, I have had a long, torrid affair with Dungeons and Dragons Miniatures.

I found it to be a tabletop strategy game without peer. I travelled far and wide to compete against other players, and have been enjoying it as my primary hobby on a nigh weekly basis for years.

But alas! Like almost every television program I have ever enjoyed, Dungeons and Dragons Miniatures has been cancelled. This is becoming quite the habit for me - Firefly, Angel and Freaks and Geeks, I'm looking at you.

Tangent: About two weeks ago I said this: "Hey, I've finally started watching Doctor Who! It's great! I'm really digging this David Tennent guy, I look forward to his continuing adventures." About two weeks and one day ago David Tennent said this: "I resign".

So anyway, in the wake of DDM's cancellation, my eyes turned to Heroclix. It is also a collectible miniatures game, but this time, plastic takes the form of comic book superheroes [also known as my childhood]. We found a buttload of the things online at a massively discounted price and they arrived this week - almost three days after Wizkids, the company that produces Heroclix, was itself cancelled! I cannot, and will not, catch a break.

Tonight is the first time I will play the game, so there is still a reasonable chance that it will suck. But I've perused the rulebook and you can hit people so hard they fly off of buildings and smash through walls, so I'm reasonably confident.

Playing isn't really that big of an issue anyway. I've had an immense amount of fun putting teams of heroes and villains together and coming up with serpentine story lines explaining their co-operation. Imaginationotron engage!

Wish me luck.

So ... can I use the urinals or ...?

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The small plastic superheroes, they have arrived!

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"You cannot ride a bicycle inside."

He walked down the smoky hallway, the sweat from his palm making the butt of his gun slick and unwieldy.
He wasn't worried though, the bullets were buried in the still-twitching bodies of a dozen reindeer, the casings scattered across the workshop floor.
His boots squelched against the thick muck that had settled on the floor as he pushed the door ahead open with his shoulder.
Inside, a man sat in a high-backed leather chair, gazing into the dying embers of a fire that clung to life across the room. He did not look up, he did not turn around. Although his face was turned away, his shoulders sagged with exhaustion under his garish clothes.
"So you've come," he said. The words tumbled from his mouth on a carpet of cold, rasped breath.
"When I saw the red light wink out in the yard, I knew it was you. Just do it."
His assailant eased into the room, tracking sawdust and the insides of elves into the room.
His voice was like iron - hot metal forged in heat and hate. His weapon fell to the floor with a dull thud that echoed through the empty complex.
"I've come a long way. You brought me here."
The man in the chair leaped up and spun around, his old frame spurred on by desperation and adrenalin. He screamed "It's not my fault!"
His assailant look a quick, long step forward and shoved the man, who fell heavily back into his chair. He crumpled like a paper napkin at the end of a long dinner.
The attacker stopped then and cast his gaze upon a snow globe resting on the desk to his side. He picked up up gingerly, as if picking a beautiful flower that was also a large dog. After a long silence his eyes turned glassy and shimmered in the dying firelight. He spoke.
"You were supposed to help us all. You were supposed to visit everyone. You lied. If you can't fly, if you can't see the world from up here, then what hope do the rest of us have?"
He brought the snow globe down onto the old man's head. It landed with a heavy thud and the shattering of glass. The man crumpled further, and died alongside the fire.
The room lay silent. The man in the chair was alone again. Tiny flecks of snow swirled at his feet in a pool of red. It looked like the sky at the end of the world.
.
.
The man was being locked in a room, strapped to a bed. It was alright though. Revenge was his. He glared wildly at the shattered snow globe and the collapsed orderly, lying amongst the bright paper on the shiny floor. He had known that man a long time, but he had gotten what he deserved.
"I wanted a bike!" He screamed.
His voice echoed through the busy complex.

Fam

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Christening

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Frisbee use #32 - water dish

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Ok then

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I've been looking for those

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There's something you should see.

Like others, I have seen the video below and am compelled to do my part in ensuring that as many people as possible see it.

Also, you should read this: The Bible, Christianity and Homosexuality.

Travellers

Photo by fLeMmA

I have travelled overseas on two occasions.

My family went to Canada when I was very young, and we went to England when I was in my mid-teens.

Due to the younginess of me, I recall few things of Canada, here they are:

* I recall it being quite clean, almost crisp.

* I remember watching Sesame Street and some of the cartoon segments were in a different language - probably French.

* I spent a good hour examining every inch of a Kool-Aid packet and the cartoon on the back that depicted some kind of Kool-Aid house, with skate ramps, Kool-Aid pools and other outlandish accoutrements. To my young brain it seemed like a mythical place and I was enthralled. My subsequent drinking of the Kool-Aid was a disappointment, as it was just a drink, not a gateway to a magical world of sugar-filled awesome.

* Subway! A train underground? I felt like an X-Man.

* Whereas I'm sure my parents recall the countryside and things like that, I remembered an amazing playground a block from where we stayed.



We went to England to visit distant family and generally check the place out. I had one, singularly important mission - to get a Red Dwarf t-shirt. The chorus of my brother and I asking when we could get such a t-shirt permeated the holiday and I'm sure impressed my mother no end. Eventually, after a hurried shuffle throughout London, we found some, and all was well.

I remember being amazed at the closeness of everything. Australia is very big, and in Broken Hill you spend a long time driving before getting anywhere else.

At that age I still generally believed that I was the centre of everything and had failed to consider that other places could be different. When the family we stayed with announced a drive to the seaside I inwardly groaned, imagining a voyage of 'is this India then?' proportions.

"How long a drive is it?" I asked, trying to appear in no way fretful.

"Well, it's a bit over an hour if we head east, and a wee bit more if we go west."

My mind was blown. Villages occurred every few minutes, a stark contrast to my previous experiences of endless desert punctuated only by the unfortunate corpses of our country's most recognisable fauna.

Of course, when we got to the beach it was overcast and freezing, so I feel like I got a good British experience.

I was also amazed to discover that the day's length varies with the seasons in England. We went in summer and the sun did not set until 10pm, so I found it impossible to go to sleep until well after midnight. The thought of winter walks home from school in the dark seemed somewhat terrifying to me, and I began to imagine that Doctor Who - a touchstone of British culture in my mind - may have been a documentary after all.

We spent a week travelling the lochs. Adults lazily sailed the skinny streams while we young ones walked alongside with large keys resembling cranks to open and close loch gates, thereby equalising the water level on both sides. It was much fun, but I feel like I walked across the entire continent.



I bring up these scintillating recollections as, some may have noticed, I've added two new blogs to the links on the bottom right of the blog.



AC's Travel Blog belongs to my friend - wait for it - AC. Next week he heads off to Canada and beyond and will be endeavouring to blog his experiences along the way. His last trip was chronicled on Myspace and was always a good read, with depictions of everything from historical sites and hockey scores to how many people in LA dress as Spiderman.

So over the next few months, join my in some vicarious global living, won't you?

Once he returns I'll leave the blog up there as another trip is inevitable. The man is perpetually travelling, saving for travelling or lamenting the recent end to travels. I sometimes worry that we are only friends because in a certain light my unfortunately-shaped head resembles a guidebook.



Also new is Aaron's Assonant Adventures in Australia. Aaron is an American whose acquaintance I have recently acquired.

He has moved to Broken Hill from the US and is giving his view on Australian culture and his experiences. It's a great read and a fascinating view for an Australian reader. We do, as he says, say 'I reckon' a lot. Read it mate.

Thoughts of racism, Obama and dolls.

Photo courtesy of netamir

During my lunch break today I caught a few minutes of an old episode of Dr Phil.
I love Dr Phil due to his ability to force life-changing advice down the throats of idiots by YELLING AT THEM VERY LOUDLY. The man is a genius.

Anyway, the snippet in question featured Paul Mooney - a comedian I first noticed on Chappelle's Show - and some other people I didn't recognise debating whether or not institutional racism continued to exist. It was magnificent.
Mooney exists in the same space of Chappelle. He turns racism towards its defenders, makes them experience its bitter taste, and wraps to whole thing in humour. It shows the ridiculousness of racism and hopefully, can lead to such beliefs collapsing under the weight of their own stupidity.
Mooney discussed a doll test I had never heard of, wherein black children had been shown a black doll and a white doll, and when asked which one was the 'ugly doll', they would always pick the black one. This test had been performed in the 1960s and this year with identical results.
While decrying this obvious signal that nothing had changed he said 'they should've asked which one is the serial killer doll? Which one is the doll that will go to the mall and shoot everybody? Then they'd pick the white doll."
The predominately white crowd erupted with scorn and labelled Mooney as 'the most racist man in this room'.
The thing is, the white people in the audience will be stung by these statements - stereotypes as ludicrous as those often used against other cultures and creeds - and they will then get into their cars and never face them again.
Racism exists. Overt institutionalised racism may not exist in its past form - all employers are 'equal opportunity' these days - but it carries on in a more nefarious fashion.
You can walk into a workplace and demand a sign saying you're not welcome be taken down, but what do you do if you just don't get a job interview? Not ever?
Meanwhile, Barack Obama is President, and that is awesome. Awesome to the max.









I haven't addressed that before, so I'll give that some room to breathe. Obama is the best man for the job at this time. His election is a boon to America and the world at large, and holds huge promise. I'm pumped. While I could not vote, I certainly sent a lot of telepathic messages towards the US of A.









But, (And much like a the music video of an up-and-coming rap outfit, you knew there'd be an obvious, gesticulating butt in here somewhere), it's important that Obama be recognised for the right reasons.
On my way to lunch the radio played a piece about Bush showing Obama through the White House, saying it was happening 'days before Obama becomes the first African-American President of the United States'. This is understandable, it's history. It's a strong story and a good angle, but it Obama's skin colour is referenced in all stories that concern him.
My hope is that, once history is made and he is in the office, his race will fade and we can start recognising him for more relevant reasons. My hope is that Obama will be recognised for his achievements. Otherwise, if Obama continues to primarily be 'the first Black President' we're all just continuing the subtle racism that permeates our society. We've got a good shot at some real progress here, but emphasising the novelty value of it all could undo everything.

Yep. This is a thing that happened.

Blogged from the hip

Very big day

I have spent all day playing Spiderman: Web of Shadows.

Moments ago I was backed up by Luke Cage while I used my webshooters to incapacitate seven goons without touching the ground.

So, uh, that's probably all I'm going to write today.

The photo above, courtesy of Cayusa, looks like the inside of my brain right now.

Obama is President
Proposition 8 has been passed.
I am enjoying an unexpected four-day weekend.
This fills me with a kaleidescopic whirlwind of emotions that cannot be summed up by words.

So, here's a picture of me eating a bubblegum flavoured icecream.

A Day of Big Decisions

This picture, which perfectly captures the essence of me, from Leen.

As I'm sure we can all appreciate, choosing the right pizza topping is important.

Unlike other foods that are delivered, pizza is equally tasty - if not moreso - as a next-day lunch or hangover breakfast.
Much like a Christmas gift that is also a puppy, your decision may grow to haunt you long after the initial joy has evaporated.
Meatlovers is a damn good pizza, and it smells good when you first open the box, but it's also a danger field. If the meat has been on the shelf too long, that next-day delicacy could leave you wracked with the cramps of regret.
No-one likes old meat.
So a vegetarian option is generally your best bet. It keeps well and remains tasty over a long term. Plain cheese, like dancing in public, is also good if you have a sense of humour about it.
Some people take vegetarian pizza too seriously. They wrap it up in symbolism and hope to use their decision to not eat meat to change the world and the mind of others. The vegetables themselves are impassive. They just taste good, and there's nothing wrong with that.
Even if they won't change the world, they will do the job well. What else do you want?

Good luck today America. Don't screw it up.

"That apostrophe on page three was disgraceful."

Photo by Just.luc

There's an old saying that circulates around news rooms:

Lawyers hang their mistakes, doctors bury theirs. Journalists put theirs on the front page.

Leaning on personal experience, working for a daily, regional newspaper has some odd quirks.
I imagine that if I worked at a bank, I would not attend many dinner parties wherein other guests would go from strangers to vocal, venomous critics of my workplace immediately upon introduction.
When I unexpectedly became a journalist at the age of 18 I did a bit of amble googling on the subject. I remember reading a list of 'most hated professions' and learning that journalists placed behind only politicians and used car salesmen. I brought it up at parties and worried at the lack of laughter it produced.
Newspapers are a shared touchstone within a small community, something everyone is aware of. They are public property and rightfully so, as they strive to connect.
Newspapers have errors in them. KFC runs out of chips (a lot). Lawyers lose cases. But it must be something about the public nature of newspapers that allows people to unabashedly voice their disgust to the people who work there.
When you give someone the wrong change in your role as a bank teller, it's likely that only two or three people will ever find out.
When you make an error within an article, you've done it in front of about 10,000 people. You will undoubtedly run into one of them at a restaurant, and they will loudly question your ability to type while others laugh into their napkins.
Errors will happen, and papers must be printed, so a choice needs to be made between being paralysed by the fear of error and getting on with the job.
While in Daylesford recently I overheard a woman ask a young man where he worked, was it the newspaper? No, he replied, he worked for the Council.
"God, that's the only place bloody worse," she said.
It's good to know that 'sledging the local' is a nationwide sport, and that there's always farther to fall.

OUT OF COFFEE

Photo from fd

While sitting at a streetside cafe in Melbourne, I overheard an exchange that continues to rattle around in my brain.





I transfer it to this place as an attempt at exorcism, in much the same way as I described the Mini Me sex tape to anyone with ears. Sometimes, the only way to reduce the effects of something is to dilute it amongst a crowd.





So, I'm enjoying this cafe due to the incredible laid-backiness of the staff, when a woman walks up the little street-facing window they have so you can get a coffee on your way past.





Customer: What kind of teas do you have?





Serving guy: What kind of tea do you want? See how I turned that around? It's on you baby.





Customer: Oh, I don't know....





Serving Guy: C'mon! You want tea, we got it!





Customer: Do you have Earl Grey?





Serving Guy: Do you want Earl Grey?





Customer: Uh ... yes.





Serving Guy: Nope, we aint got no Earl Grey! Green tea! I bet you'd love some green tea.





Customer: Ok.





Serving Guy: Coming right up!











I wish that man was my roommate.