I've been looking for those

Blogged from the hip

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.