JutsaBlog

choices, choices, choices

2007-06-27T03:44:00.000+10:00

One day, during his morning walk, John Howard drops dead. He arrives at the Pearly Gates, to be told by St Peter: "We seldom see a Liberal, so we're not sure what to do with you." No problem, says Howard. "Just let me in, I'm a good Christian."

But St Peter tells him it's not that simple. Under God's new HEAVENCHOICES policy, Howard must spend one day in hell and one day in heaven before choosing where he'll live for eternity. And with that, St Peter rings the bell, an elevator arrives, and down Howard goes, non-stop, to hell.

However, when the doors open Howard finds himself on a lush golf course. The sun is shining, the day is perfect, and standing in front of a beautiful clubhouse is Bob Menzies, Billy McMahon, Billy Hughes, Joh Bjelke-Petersen, Frank and Kerry Packer, Bob Askin, Bob Santamaria, and many more. They all run to hug him and talk about the old times they had getting rich. They play a round of golf, have a lot of laughs, dine in the club on lobster and champagne, and are having such a good time that, before Howard realises, it's time to go.

Back in heaven, St Peter takes him inside where, for 24 hours, Howard hangs out with a bunch of ordinary, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, eat simply, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a broken promise or short-arse joke among them, but what Howard notices most is that he doesn't see anybody he knows.

The day over, Howard tells St Peter: "Heaven has been delightful but I really think I belong in hell with my friends."

So back into the elevator and down he goes, only this time when the doors open he's surrounded by endless scorched earth covered with smog and filth, while all his friends are chained together in rags and are filling black drums with toxic waste.

The Devil appears.

"I don't understand," stammers Howard. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and I ate lobster and drank champagne with all my friends. We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland and everybody is miserable!"

The Devil puts an arm around him, smiling, and says silkily: "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us!"

stem cells haven't promised me anything

2007-06-21T21:22:00.000+10:00

Some points about the 'promises' of stem cell research.

Firstly, the debate is polarised already and defined in terms of "religious ideologes" versus "scientists". The rest of us are irrlevent, apparently, and if we want a voice have to align ourselves with one or the other camp.

Second, both sides use established authority to justify themselves and to raise their profiles: scientists use 'facts', sometimes even 'proven facts', to further persuade us of their genius status. The religious worriers and affiliated politicians use 'morality', 'ethics', and their status as the called (or even the Elect? Mandated elect, in the case of politicians) to give them some kind of credibility.

The issues as I see it:
that the research will happen in the USA. Since all the Western world is gagging for a go, why do I think it would be the USA leading the way? Because they have the biggest, best-funded laboratories. Once the US changes its laws, my bet is that all the top European scientists will decamp to California and get to business.

The culture will determine that research is conducted in a particular way, ie. probably privately funded, probably paying for "donations", eventual financial profits would be privately held. Are any of these things problems in and of themselves?
Yes. Firstly because science is supposed to be disinterested. Any science making a profit should be regarded with suspicion.
Second, who is going to provide the genetic material? The same college girls who sell their eggs to infertile buyers at tens of $1000s a pop? Maybe, but because this is a market not concerned with your social status, IQ, skin colour, or citizenship, you can bet your bottom dollar it will end up being poor people. Will they know what their genetic material is being used for? Will they be well informed? Do they share the scientists un-problematic view of the process? There is already a market for organs, with buyers tending to be rich Western men, sellers tending to be poor Indian women.
Would the top scientists donate their own eggs and sperm?

We could say here that all the research material would come from fertility clinics who would toss the embryos anyway. But - how many embryos do fertility labs actually account for? It can't be many compared to how many will be needed for all the proposed research - which is going to take ages. That scientific stuff of making successful assays, isolating proteins and hormones - all that takes literally tonnes of raw material.

Despite these problems and more, the so-called "ethical" debate is limited to re-hashings of abortion arguments. Quasi-philosophical discussions about when life begins that we can never answer - rather than the actual real problems, some of which I've raised already, plus those of over-medicalisation. For instance, stem cell research is being touted by pharma as something that will potentially help "millions of Americans". Now, there are not millions of Americans made into quadraplegics. There are however, millions of Americans with "high blood pressure". Hmm. So are we at least in part getting so excited about this on false premises? Bloody high blood pressure - what a joke that medicine is going to solve the problem of people aging, eating rubbish, being sedentary, and having the "norm" of high blood pressure set by young healthy people. High blood pressure (both actually and in how it is defined) is a social problem, not a medical one.

Then there are the cancers, and all the brain and neuro illnesses. Yes, I hope they are all cured. I hope lots of people donate their genetic material to contribute to research. But that's a broad spectrum of illness to research, and with limited research materials, where do you really think the enquiry is going to go? That's right... to the profits! Ie. frikkin high blood pressure and diabetes!

Science is like that.
If you go to Wikipedia and look at Stem Cell research, they give a time line of Stem Cell highlights. The timeline has been constructed in hindsight with findings that were irrelevent and ignored for a long time as important contributions. There are these big gaps where it looks like nothing happened - presumably these were the times that science took a turn that is nolonger credible. Then as we near the present day, the highlights become increasingly frequent, indicating we should suppose the leaps and bounds that are being made.

But at this point, its all hypothetical. Of course research has to go ahead in order for us to learn something new. But where is the real public discussion? Where is the discussion about medicine and how our societies are messing up our health to begin with?

The essence of what I want to say here is that there are a range of concerns not being taken seriously because the debate is polarised being controlled by basically 2 camps of opinion: scientists + pharma on one hand; politicians + clergy on the other.
And the choruses are bleating about religion baaad, science baaad. As if nobody had ever finished their secondary education.

What frustrates me about listening to people talk about stem cell research is that they actually put on this big act like they suddenly support science and think that scientific work is an unbridled good. Whereas everybody knows that science can stink - its part make believe but pretends to be all rational, they present the information after years of accidents and trial and error as if they knew what they were trying to do all along, as if they discovered what they did because it was logically deduced - which is HELLO impossible because the whole point was they didn't know to begin with, and their animal trials are revolting and inhumane. Still, it amuses me. Religion amuses me to, but we have all had a lot more practice at criticising religion than many other forms of dogma.

Don't be one-sided. Its boring.

how do you fit so much cute in such a small space?

2007-06-11T21:55:00.000+10:00

disapproval and exile

2007-03-30T19:03:00.000+10:00

This post is on pause :)

Coffee break

2006-01-31T21:42:00.000+11:00

Make that a south-east Asian coffee break. So nervous - I always get pre-travel jitters. Basically I'm very superstitious in a quantum physics kind of way and think that if I focus on the worst possible outcomes, I'll somehow ward them off. I've probably just jinxed myself by typing it 'out-loud'.

I'm gonna miss you bloggers - maybe I'll get a chance to visit while I'm away, but I don't think its going to be a big priority to be honest - no offence.

When I get back, I'm going back to work - yay... it'll be really nice to see the welcoming old folks... yeah... they love me... :-)

Cyber beer, cyber chips, and cyber hugs to you all!

♥

One more thing, the hostess got a good laugh out of my "Fess up" email - but claims they are "just friends". My husband still isn't convinced and thinks Hostess is either covering up for them, or just is 'Romance Blind".
'Just friends'... does that mean they are trying to break it off? Or still at the flirting stage?
What does she know?

The White Earth

2006-01-07T16:42:00.000+11:00

I recommend it.

2005-12-16T08:40:00.000+11:00

some sort of miner or honeyeater, in some sort of eucalypt tree, beside the airstrip in Port Pirie.

retirees' house boats on the Murray river at Morgan, South Australia.

border of Victoria and South Australia - featuring rural petrol prices. We've just gone through a fruit fly/phylloxera quarantine station.

con trail on a clear day - north-east South Australia

which only serves to make us grieve

2005-10-29T20:20:00.000+10:00

I bought a new Paul Celan book not so long ago, from a great little bookshop in Potts Point. The kind that has books right up to the ceiling - they fit an entire library into a space the size of a teenager's bedroom. If there is one dead person who I wish I could have met, it would be him (and ST Coleridge - just imagine them interacting). The blackness of his poetry brings the wrongness of the crimes against him into my life, into my imagination.

Its Saturday night, so the WWII documentaries are being trotted out for TV.
What seems to be evident to me, but is clearly far from so many others' perception of reality, is that killing is wrong. War, violence, slandering other nations: dumb.

So why do we do it?
(Why ask "Why?", when all you get is another question mark?)

I am clearly not the first person to ask. In fact, ASKING wasn't even my own idea. Somewhere in the Old Testament it says, "Why do the nations rage so furiously together? Why do they imagine a vain thing?"
2 or 3 thousand years later Freud articulated the 'narcissism of minor differences' - those petty differences which mean so much to us.
Jane Ross's work on the biggest Australian nationalist myth, the ANZAC legend, gave us a clear illustration of the limited scope of the attributes celebrated.
A few years later, Benedict Anderson in his (somewhat overrated but catchily titled) "Imagined Communities" offerred a strong brew of morning coffee to nationalists everywhere.

So, to avoid the use of redundant adjectives, it has been spelt out clearly to us. All has been revealed, and I mean that in the broadest possible sense of revelation. And it goes something like this. Don't fight. Its not a good idea. In fact, its really stupid. Do you want your city to look like Dresden in 1945? Do you care to preserve Baghdad's remaining architectural beauty? Are you really comfortable with being a mass murderer?

Political science, psychology, theology, genetics: they can all be used to show us how and to what massive extent people are THE SAME ALL OVER THE WORLD. Amazing, isn't it?
So, can everybody just be nice, please? Can we put DOWN the weapons? Can we say NICE things, or say nothing at all? When will we learn?

Of course, you all think like this, so I'm preaching to the choir.
When I was little and we went on car-trips, I had to sit between my brothers to stop them fighting in the back seat. But it never really stopped them. Its just distanced them a bit. I feel like my whole life is going to be spent sitting in the back seat of Life, saying, "Can you people just be civil? Can't you see this is affecting me, too?"

*

...With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest
That may not rudely be dismist;
Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.

Home

2005-10-13T11:57:00.000+10:00

I come from a dry place. Almost Siberian in its extremes. In summer, if you sleep all day, you can go out at night in bare feet, and the concrete is beautifully warm. That same concrete in daylight hours is inhospitable. And the dust blown in on those dry West winds. South of South Africa they came toward us and came crashing into the cliffs that tell the sailors: you have reached the great Southern land. In Fremantle, they breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor touched their forehead and cooled the brow. Easy now. Keep moving, over the land, towards the Dreamtime, edging past a mystery - and somewhere a train loaded with rock clacks in isolation. Click clack. The long haul truck drivers go onto autopilot.

Nullabor: no trees. Red earth: the colour of our dreams.

Beyond the curve of the Earth we know but do not see the airforce pilot going Mach 3. He looks down, gas mask sucking. Spinefex. Spinefex. Road. Spinefex.

Come closer. The same fish that sits below Africa, trodden on, lies here. Waiting for the rain. Starts planning its next breath. The last drop of moisture was taken from the air days ago, but the wind keeps pushing on. Skeletal. Whistling dry. The trucks still haven't arrived. Over the ruins of mountain range from last aeon, dust that blows the shapes of what we nothing know. All things burnt to cleanliness, the dust too is clean.

And from that autoclave of central Australia, the winds arrive to me. I take my wet washing from the machine, and two turns around hills hoist. First a stretch to peg them up. Then another as the metal squeaks back to where I started, and I can start to take them down. Why even take the basket from my hip? Perhaps the wind is moister now. I wonder what else expired in that thin air that covered the ground from here to there, the folk in Perth breath easy, but I look aside to try and get this dust from my nose and eyes. Scratch my face hope no one sees me.

In winter, the thinly clad houses shiver to the buzz of tinny electric heaters, cool air streaming in under the cracks in the doors. Mornings are frigid. The light frost on the grass seems to creep in through the windows and settle on the bare shoulders, just out of the steaming shower. Towels are never big enough: wince and grimace. We dress promtly here. Insulation? "Oh, I suppose we could, but it all costs money, doesn't it? No point anyway, it gets so hot in summer."

back of my hand

2005-10-11T23:43:00.000+10:00

Drove back up to the NSW countryside tonight. Just me and the trucks on the road, and the mournful roadkill - ignored and re-driven over endlessly.

I'm glad I'm familiar with the roads. Some of the turns on the single lane roads might be a bit alarming at night, otherwise. But I feel like I could sail through without headlights on. Know them like the back of my hands.

The car is my steed. We go humming along together. Hug the turns. Follow the groove. I watch the white line to avoid the glare of the approaching headlights. We sit tight together and tail the trucks - does the slipstream help, or is it just my imagination?

I think about so many different things when I'm driving along on my own. Sing. Remember things.

Nothing seems to change much. A pot-hole gets fixed, the trees start blooming, creating eerie night-lit avenues. Red light, green light, accelerate.

With miles of duel-highway to spare, some city driver overtakes me and and as soon as their bumper is in front of me, puts on their indicator and move in front. As if they didn't notice they could have just stepped on it, and disappeared into the horizon.
I on the other hand reveal my true colours in city traffic when I leave a 'healthy distance' between me and the vehicle in front - a space big enough that people behind me zip past to take the space!

The speed limits make me ache. Not a car in sight. Kilometres of straight, open road - and many K's still to travel. 110kmph. Or was that 115? No one will notice a couple more, will they?

*

Speaking of hand-backs, don't you hate when you moisturise your hands that you have to have it on both sides, when really its just the back side of your hands that get dry? A luxury problem, I know. Nonetheless.

2005-09-16T21:57:00.000+10:00

Don't laugh, it could happen to you.

Countryside New South Wales - heart of the nation.

2005-09-15T15:12:00.000+10:00

No data avilable. LOL! Why does that not surprise me?

I hear voices

2005-09-14T21:06:00.000+10:00

JASMINE "Islam is a peaceful religion."
ANNA "All religion is bullshit - all fundamentalists are exactly the same."
RUTH "Christians can find no justification for violence, whereas Muslims can."

JASMINE "Well look at George W - he's a Christian..."
RUTH "You call him a Christian? He's acting in the name of his country, and Cheney, the Machiavellian..."
RAMEENA "Hey, there's nothing in the Koran that justifies bombing people, just take a look at this URL..."
RUTH "Nothing in the Bible either"
ANNA "Oh yeah, what about 'an eye for an eye'? And what about 'Kill the infidels'? All organised religion leads inevitably to violence."
JASMINE/RUTH (together) "Not mine!"
ANNA "I prefer Eastern religions. Like Confuscianism. Like Buddhism."
JASMINE "You PREFER the Singhalese nationalists, do you? Holding an AK-47 and smiling at the same time, blaming everything on fate?"
SALLY "Love your neighbour as you love yourself..."
RAMEENA "Be tolerant..."
[GOD] (aside) ("There she goes, mis-quoting me again...")
NOMA "Huh? Who said that? Look, we all have to live here together, so can't we all just try to get along? Pleeeease? The basic tenets are the same..."
ANNA "They're deluded robots! And I don't want to have anything to do with them! And they don't like gays!"
JASMINE/RUTH (together) "No I'm not!"
RUTH "The gay thing is nothing personal, its just an abomination against the Lord, that's all. But its between them, and God. And a Christian would never judge them for it."
NOMA "Oh my God! That is so patronising, would you listen to yourself?!"
RUTH "It seems to me that most of the New Testament is actually about how not to judge, and how not to be a hypocrite..."
JASMINE "The woman of the Book has a point. But its really the Western women's fault. You see, they wear revealing clothes, and this leads the men to having carnal thoughts..."
ANNA "You're up yourself, and you're sexist. You must hate yourself. Muslims and Christians are both sexist. And Buddhists are equally bad, now that I think of it. Its just a war on women, blame every act of violence a man commits on the woman who was the victim of it! And you support that, because it makes you feel more virtuous and righteous in your clothing!"
JASMINE (to RUTH) "They're very rebellious, aren't they? My clothes give me freedom from unwanted attention."
KAREN "Funny kind of freedom...
ANNA "Rebellious? You're the ones waging the wars!
RUTH "I've never been to war in my life, what are you talking about?"
NOMA "And what about Sharia Law? I'm a paid up Amnesty International member, and I heard about a stoning in Nigeria, and..."
JASMINE "They're against Islam. Its not Islam, its cultural."
RUTH "No they're not, look at how they're treating the Israelis! And after what happened in Germany... (tsk tsk)"
KAREN "Actually, you could put forward a pretty compelling argument that the culture stems from the Koran..."
SALLY "Chicken and the egg?"
RUTH "The Bible is the true word of God"
ANNA "Oh here we go..."
NOMA "Amnesty said that stoning was barbaric and medieval..."
ANNA "It is. But they're probably just anti-semitic. All top-down organisations have a narrow in-group which is only acceptable to..."
NOMA (Gasp!) "Don't say that about Amnesty! They're good!"
KAREN "You know, its all about media representation, which controls the planet..."
JASMINE "That's true"
RUTH "Yeah, with all their filthy advertising and worldliness"
KAREN "Huh?
JASMINE "Tell me about it! As if hair spray is going to save us"
RUTH (Roars with laughter) "I know! Hey would like a cup of tea?
JASMINE "Yes please. Actually, I have some excellent baklava we could slice up..., and we could discuss the Jewish lobby"
NOMA "What's baklava? What's the Jewish lobby?"
KAREN "Oh, its this much too sweet middle-eastern sweet. You can get it made from Nutra-sweet in this amazing diet boutique..."
ANNA (ignoring Karen) "Do you have to be a hard-core religious nutter such as yourselves to believe in baklava?"
KAREN "And the Jewish lobby, that's just a term put-about by left-wing anti-semitists, who think that all Jews are rich media moguls"
JASMINE "They're a pack of Zionists who don't care that the Israeli state was stolen from the Palestinians, who have inhabited it since the days of the old testament!"
RUTH "Lord, I lift this baklava up to you..."
SALLY "What do you think?"
JASMINE "Drove them out using their own radio stations...!"
NOMA "I still don't get it..."
RAMEENA "You like pastries, right? And nuts? And you like sweet things, right?"
ANNA "She likes nutters!"
JASMINE "Our Palestinian brothers and sisters..."
KAREN "Whoa, Pan-Arabism, that's a bit 5 mintues ago, isn't it?"
JASMINE "Millions of refugees..."
RUTH "Palestinian and Philistine have the same root."
ESTHER "Precicely!"

You get my point? Me neither. Welcome to my life, thrillseekers.

Gratulere med dagen din, Elskede!

2005-08-09T12:49:00.000+10:00

Le litt!

a show for grown-ups

2005-08-04T20:47:00.000+10:00

I was mid in a log this afternoon, when we had a total blackout. Now I feel like all the following will be repeating what I already said. *sigh*

First, an introduction. For those of us who don't know who or what Sigur Ros are/is, they are a band of musicians, four men, from Iceland. The music is a bit tricky to classify - probably a good ting.

Let's start with the basics.

They have a singer, who who generally sing in Icelandic at the top pitch of his range in a slighty 'vocalese' style. He wears a guitar, low-slung, and occasionally sings into its pick-ups for the effect. There's a keyboardist. The rhythm is slow, but the drummer often plays very fast.
(I feel like I'm doing charades or something here)

There are a lot of effects used, like warbling eerie organ notes and then a bit of thrashing but slow guitar riffing, then back to a guitar that sounds like a jew's harp. (gee, I'm floudering. no offense to the fans...)

Overall, the effect is like rock, but lullabies. Its sort of ambient metal. I don't know what it is, but its good. Hey, at least i TRIED to describe it.

OK - now, they usually play on stage with another band, called Amina, which is comprised of 4 Icelandic women. At the gig last night, Amina joined the main concert about halfway through, as a string section. They also played the pre-Sigur Ros warm-up, but weren't all strings for that.

The wierd thing was, it was a rock-type audience at the Melbourne Arts Centre. White as. So, we all gathered around the padded glossy interior, looking like the types of people who aren't used to being in well-lit places at night. Although I think there was a fair contingent of Icelanders there who were just attending to be patriotic.

When Amina began playing, from where I sat up in the stalls, everybody was quiet was attentive. They were dressed in long dresses with what looked like box-pleats. Very feminine, very hus-fru. On stage, they had a big table with a floor length table-cloth. It was easy to imagine them in the depths of the northern winter in a cosy kitchen with a reindeer stewing on the stovetop, all gathered around a table, tinkling away with their instuments, no doubt with a child or two around them.

Then, a terrible thing happened. The gap between the seriousness of the venue, the art of the music, and the dishevelledness of the crowd got to me. I got the giggles. I nudged Børge, and he got the joke (yes, we are the in-joke type of couple).
(whispering) "Do you want to try crowd surfing?" (pffffff! tee hee hee!)
"I feel like I'm in church!"
"I reckon you're the only person here without a blog" (pffffff! snigger snigger!)
"Did they remember to pre-heat the oven?" (Ga! tee hee snigger snigger!)

But of course we still appreciated the music. At the interval before Sigur Ros, the grown-ups behind us SHOOSHED us! Just because they have long attention spans. Or something.

Sigur Ros were good. The music was magic. However, they seemed a bit navel-gazing last night, and I expect it was because they had a purely Sigur Ros audience.
The light show was creative, very beautiful. Water-like effects, like light playing on water, and the play set to bright music, with the depths of the water echoed in the music's sobriety and smoothness. I sat there and thought about the significance of light to an Icelander. I wondered if they thought about the significance of darkness to an Australian audience?
The baby doll with its eyes poked out was disturbing and I would have preferred, a war scene perhaps? What added to my experience is that I was well back from the stage, whereas the previous time I was at the very front - this can make a big difference with some bands.
I wish there were more bands that could do what they do so well.

Military Aircraft questionnaire

2005-07-20T12:33:00.000+10:00

This was allegedly posted very briefly on the McDonnell Douglas Website by an employee there who obviously has a sense of humour. The company, of course, does not have a sense of humour, and made the web department take it down immediately.

> Thank you for purchasing a McDonnell Douglas military aircraft. In order to protect your new investment, please take a few moments to fill out the warranty registration card below.
> Answering the survey questions is not required, but the information will help us to develop new products that best meet your needs and desires.
>
> 1.
> [_] Mr.
> [_] Mrs.
> [_] Ms.
> [_] Miss
> [_] Lt.
> [_] Gen.
> [_] Comrade
> [_] Classified
> [_] Other
>
> First Name:
>
> .......................................................
> Initial: ........
> Last Name......................................................
> Password: .............................. (max. 8 char)
> Code Name: ........................................................
> Latitude-Longitude-Altitude: .....................
>
> 2. Which model aircraft did you purchase?
> [_] F-14 Tomcat
> [_] F-15 Eagle
> [_] F-16 Falcon
> [_] F-117A Stealth
> [_] Classified
>
> 3. Date of purchase (Year/Month/Day): 19......./....... /......
> 4. Serial Number:...............................................
> 5. Please indicate where this product was purchased:
> [_] Received as gift / aid package
> [_] Catalogue / showroom
> [_] Independent arms broker
> [_] Mail order
> [_] Discount store
> [_] Government surplus
> [_] Classified
>
> 6. Please indicate how you became aware of the McDonnell Douglas you
> have just purchased:
> [_] Heard loud noise, looked up
> [_] Store display
> [_] Espionage
> [_] Recommended by friend / relative / ally
> [_] Political lobbying by manufacturer
> [_] Was attacked by one
>
> 7. Please indicate the three (3) factors that most influenced your
> decision to purchase this McDonnell Douglas product:
> [_] Style / appearance
> [_] Speed / manoeuvrability
> [_] Price / value
> [_] Comfort / convenience
> [_] Kickback / bribe
> [_] Recommended by salesperson
> [_] McDonnell Douglas reputation
> [_] Advanced Weapons Systems
> [_] Backroom politics
> [_] Negative experience opposing one in combat
>
> 8. Please indicate the location(s) where this product will be used:
> [_] North America
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Aircraft carrier
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Europe
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Middle East (not Iraq)
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Africa
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Asia / Far East
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Misc. Third World countries
> [_] Iraq
> [_] Classified
> [_] Iraq
>
> 9. Please indicate the products that you currently own or intend to
> purchase in the near future:
> [_] Colour TV
> [_] VCR
> [_] ICBM
> [_] Killer Satellite
> [_] CD Player
> [_] Air-to-Air Missiles
> [_] Space Shuttle
> [_] Home Computer
> [_] Nuclear Weapon
>
> 10. How would you describe yourself or your organisation? (Indicate all
> that apply:)
> [_] Communist / Socialist
> [_] Terrorist
> [_] Crazed
> [_] Neutral
> [_] Democratic
> [_] Dictatorship
> [_] Corrupt
> [_] Primitive / Tribal
>
> 11. How did you pay for your McDonnell Douglas product?
> [_] Deficit spending
> [_] Cash
> [_] Suitcases of cocaine
> [_] Oil revenues
> [_] Personal cheque
> [_] Credit card
> [_] Ransom money
> [_] Traveller's cheque
>
> 12. Your occupation:
> [_] Homemaker
> [_] Sales / marketing
> [_] Revolutionary
> [_] Clerical
> [_] Mercenary
> [_] Tyrant
> [_] Middle management
> [_] Eccentric billionaire
> [_] Defence Minister / General
> [_] Retired
> [_] Student
>
> 13. To help us better understand our customers, please indicate the
> interests and activities in which you and your spouse enjoy participating
> on a regular basis:
> [_] Golf
> [_] Boating / sailing
> [_] Sabotage
> [_] Running / jogging
> [_] Propaganda / misinformation
> [_] Destabilisation / overthrow
> [_] Default on loans
> [_] Gardening
> [_] Crafts
> [_] Black market / smuggling
> [_] Collectibles / collections
> [_] Watching sports on TV
> [_] Wines
> [_] Interrogation / torture
> [_] Household pets
> [_] Crushing rebellions
> [_] Espionage / reconnaissance
> [_] Fashion clothing
> [_] Border disputes
> [_] Mutually Assured Destruction
>
> Thank you for taking the time to fill out this questionnaire. Your answers will be used in market studies that will help McDonnell Douglas serve you better in the future - as well as
> allowing you to receive mailings and special offers from other companies, governments, extremist groups, and mysterious consortia. As a bonus for responding to this survey, you will
> be registered to win a brand new F-117A in our Desert Thunder Sweepstakes!
>
> Comments or suggestions about our fighter planes?
> Please write to: McDONNELL DOUGLAS CORPORATION Marketing Department - Military, Aerospace Division
>
> IMPORTANT: This email is intended for the use of the individual addressee(s) named above and may contain information that is confidential privileged or unsuitable for overly sensitive
> persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humour or irrational religious beliefs. If you are not the intended recipient, any dissemination, distribution or copying of this email is not
> authorised (either explicitly or implicitly) and constitutes an irritating social faux pas. Unless the word absquatulation has been used in its correct context somewhere other than in this
> warning, it does not have any legal orgrammatical use and may be ignored. No animals were harmed in the transmission of this email, although the kelpie next door is living on borrowed
> time, let me tell you. Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown will be gratified to learn that there is no hidden message revealed by reading this warning backwards, so
> just ignore that Alert Notice from Microsoft. However, by pouring a complete circle of salt around yourself and your computer you can ensure that no harm befalls you and your pets. If
> you have received this email in error, please add some nutmeg and egg whites and place it in a warm oven for 40 minutes. Whisk briefly and let it stand for 2 hours before icing.

2 languages only

2005-07-12T18:48:00.000+10:00

Here's my thinking on language: everybody can only ever speak 2 languages (unless they are bilingual from childhood).
Your first language is Language Number 1. All other languages are Language Number 2. So, let's say you speak English as your native language, and in high school you learn German and French to a minimal extent, and then in university you begin to seriously study Japanese. My theory holds that when you are struggling to find a Japanese word, you'll also think of a German or French one.

The big dilemma is where do English words learnt as an adult fit in? The answer is, I don't know but it doesn't matter. The theory is general.

Makes you wonder about age of acquisition, and how your brain changes as you grow. Well, I have read a blogger somewhere out in the ether who thinks that he grew up and then around the age of 20 suddenly became a different person - so when he looks back on life, he has distinct feelings of having been a different person. I think a lot of us can relate to that... or is it just time elapsing? My view is that the brain really does change, and that one also changes as a person. But wait you say, what about how we've all seen how some people are just like they "always were", and childhood experiences are so influential later in life? I would say, "What a good question, that requires further research which is why I would like you to give me a grant."

You know, I reckon if I wrapped this idea up in enough jargon, someone might believe I had a point.

Lest we forget

2005-07-11T23:56:00.000+10:00

A Lancaster releases a million poppy petals to mark the 60th anniversary of the end of WWII.

Jamie Oliver's new "online" book

2005-07-11T19:05:00.000+10:00

I have been getting emails from various people with a word document containing a new Jamie Oliver cookbook. The grapevine has it that someone at the publisher's transferred it to Word when it was ready to go to the printer's, and emailed it to a friend... and its now being emailed all over. I guess we can assume that person will be maybe getting sued, and probably not working in publishing ever again!

I've had a look at it, its very Jamie in tone. Quite good, with lots of nice photos.

I generally don't mind burning CDs and so on, but I do feel a bit sorry for him. How embarrassing.

oh my, how depressing

2005-06-19T21:23:00.000+10:00

I just found a blog by someone who is or claims to be an American soldior in Iraq, and who is generally making comments about prisoners of both sides (comparisons thereof, and with his own living conditions), how good his tank is, other stuff...

he describes how much he misses his father, who was a Vietnam veteran, and who has passed away, agent orange etc etc...

oh...

my heart hurts.

made with love... beware!

2005-06-19T14:51:00.000+10:00

A trip to a far-away blog land called http://ziggythoughts.blogspot.com/ inspired me to share a little food tale.

In a beautiful sub-tropical part of Australia, close to the Pacific but not actually on the beach, is a small town called Nimbin. Just inland from Byron Bay, in the hinterland. It is famous for its drugs and drug users. Years ago my non-drug-using parents took me and my younger bro there, when we were visiting friends who live nearby. After touring the Marijuana Museum, we went for breakfast at the only cafe that was open. It only served vegen food. If I can make a criticism of vegan food, it would have to be that it is frequently 1) brown, 2) chewy, and 3) unidentifiable. So my brother ordered some thing or other, and a steaming rubbery brown dish was served to him and the friendly waitress tipped her head on its side and said, "I hope you like it, it was made with love!" What a nice thing to say! Problem - food not good. Extraterrestrial, in fact.

So, whenever we are a bit apprehensive about the ingredients we've used, or the final product we've come up with, or if the food is starting to look in some way like it might be served up in a vegan cafe for in Nimbin...
we smile gaily, and declare to the eaters (or victims, however you see it) that it was made with love. And let them be warned!

more on Celan - TODESFUGE

2005-05-17T09:38:00.000+10:00

This is me trying to interpret the poem.
*Repetition of abends, nachts in 1st 2nd 3rd and 4th stanzas causes feeling of inescapability, unavoidability, just as night falls without fail. There is no daylight in this poem, only a sense of the light is constantly disappearing: the repetition of dunkelt, dunkler reinforces the night-time imagery.

*The repetition of abends, nachts becomes rhythmic, so we expect them to continue at similar intervals but are surprised in the 4th stanza when it is interrupted by Tod, Meister, Deutschland. Thereby associating nightfall (a kind of ending), Tod (ending) with Meister and Deutschland.

*A few points about the repetition of Wir trinken..., Wir trinken..., Wir trinken und trinken
-begins first with Sie as the object, later shifts to Dich, which involves the reader more personally: an accusation?
-They drink it mittags, morgens, nachts, abends, and are constantly consuming it. Like a meal, swallowed, used up, burnt up. Repeated and repeated, because author is talking about millions of people.
-They drink without choice. No one would choose to drink Schwarze Milch der Fruhe, the black milk of daybreak.

*Schwarze Milch der Fruhe:
-is it der Fruhe as a contrast to the night-time and darkness in the rest of the poem?
-At daybreak, the prisoners have no 'new day' to look forward to, their experience will be the same as the day before, so their new day is rotten, like black milk.
-Contrast also in that milk has connotations of mother, care, something fed upon when dependent. So this black milk is their starvation rations, the sick milk of their captors who ironically, their dommed lives now depend on.
-it is also simply an image of sickness, impossibility. How can you drink black milk, there's no such thing? = How can this have been allowed to happen?

*Ein Mann, "er", becomes the actor in the first stanza. He gives orders. By the 4th stanza, Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland. We associate this man and death, Death is giving orders.

*When the image is first presented, "Wir schaufeln ein Grad in den Luften da leigt man nicht eng", sounds free. Free in the air, my first impression was of the freedom in death. "Nicht eng" could be as in the camps' dormitories. "Nicht eng" = Lebansraum, so a connotation of National Socialist imagery and propaganda. How ironic that there was room for so much death.
-In the 1st and 2nd stanzas, 'We shovel a gave in the air', then in the 4th stanza, 'We have a grave in the clouds'. So the verb changes from shovel schaufeln to have habt. They dug their own graves, sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically.
-'Wir" schaufiln ein Grab in den Luften: compared to Er pfeift seine Juden hervor laesst schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde. So, 'we' shovel in the air, but when the image is more solid, of digging graves in the ground, it is no longer 'we' but "his Jews", acting under 'his' orders.

*seine Ruden herbei: seine Juden hervor - all are his possessions, he is clearly superior. But he prefers his dogs to be closer to him than his Jews.

*Deutschland = goldenes Haar Margrethe
Doomed Jews = aschenes Haar Sulamith
In the 1st stanza, it could be a soldior writing to his beloved, a golden haired Aryan.
Aschenes Haar in the 2nd stanza importantly introduces the idea of burnt hair. Ironic in calling it 'Aschenes'. God that's terrible genius.
-golden hair juxtaposed with Deutschland; ashen hair juxtaposed with grave digging.

More later on playing and the snake, writing and the house...

Wislawa Szymborska - Could have (poem about Holocaust survivors)

2005-05-15T16:52:00.000+10:00

It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.

You were saved because you were the first.
You were saved because you were the last.
Alone. With others.
On the right. On the left.
Because it was raining. Because of the shade.
Because the day was sunny.

You were in luck - there was a forest.
You were in luck - there were no trees.
You were in luck - a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
A jamb, a turn, a quarter-inch, an instant...

So you're here? Still dizzy from
another dodge, close shave, reprieve?
One hole in the net and you slipped through?
I couldn't be more shocked or
speechless.
Listen,
how your heart pounds inside me.

More accurately I s'pose, this is a poem about the author being moved by the stories of survivors. How can you begin to express it...? I think Wislawa does a pretty good job though. She won the Nobel prize in 1996, and this link http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1996/
has a bio etc.

Paul Celan - Death Fugue

2005-05-15T15:15:00.000+10:00

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
drink it and drink it
we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair
Margarete
he writes it and walks from the house the stars glitter he whistles his dogs up
he whistles his Jews out and orders a grave to be dug in the ground
he orders us strike up and play for the dance.

TODESFUGE von Paul Celan

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken sie abends
wir trinken sie mittags und morgens wir trinken sie nachts
wir trinken und trinken
wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng
Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt
der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar
Margarete
er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine Rüden herbei
er pfeift seine Juden hervor läßt schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde
er befiehlt uns spielt nun zum Tanz.

That's the first stanza. This poem speaks volumes. To Primo Levi, the German language itself was ugly because he associated it with torture, orders, Auschwitz. It was the language of THEM. After the war, Celan, writing in his grief, reclaims the language. It is not only the language of a barked order or bureaucracy.

German is an awesome language. The following is one of my favourite poems, not only for its imagery but because it is a pleasure to speak it:
Herbst (Autumn)- by Rainer Maria Rilke.
Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.
Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.
Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.
Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

...here's a good English trans of the last 2 stanzas (don't know who to credit for it)...
We are all falling. This hand's falling too.
All have this falling sickness none withstands.
And still there's always One whose gentle hands
This universal falling can't fall through.

I wonder if Primo Levi ever heard Rainer Maria Rilke's poetry?

I am a little bit obsessed with the Holocaust, because (although it was certainly a unique phenomenon in terms of the way it happened) it could happen again. Not in the same way (and certainly not in Germany...?) but in a place like Australia for instance. Here we have a similar praise for bullies, similar absurd meaningless political language, dramatic changes in the form of nationalism being used by the state over the last decade, and several small groups (ethnic and linguistic) which the media thrives on demonising. We have strong links to the US and UK(which can be to some extent attributed to the language we share, and the media and our history) and the current government is supporting their view of the world unhesitantly. I feel like I'm living in a colonial, antipodean outpost of some larger unstated empire. I'm not an America-basher.

So the question is, if Hitler got going by making life fun for all the German kiddies doing role plays in youth groups, telling them they were the future and encouraging toughness, how far off is our own culture? I'm not saying that's exactly where we are right now, but I do think our culture is compatible with the kind of thinking that got the NAZI party into power.
Hmmmm.

I don't hope anyone reads this and thinks I'm trying to say that all anyone needs to do to heal their wounds is read poetry. (Or maybe I am. There could be just a little bit of truth in that. For me at least.) But then, didn't I also read that Celan took suicide? So there goes that theory. I suppose once you've lost your family through war, feel like no one really gets it and they aren't listening, all you see is the world keeping on turning, and you lose your faith in humanity, then a little bit of comfort from some sublime poetry isn't going to be sufficient to keep you from killing yourself.

small-town police experience

2005-05-14T22:27:00.000+10:00

I had a run-in with the police yesterday.

I was riding the antique peugeot push-bike down the main street in the little town where my folks live to collect the papers. I had been chatting happily to the man in the shop, and came outisde, and as I did I saw a dark shark-like suit from the corner of my eye - it was noneother than Senior Constable Langheim and his book.

He opened with a classic, "Just before you get on your way, there," he might have added 'lassy' for effect, "are you aware that all the school children manage to ride to school with their helmets on? And did you know you can only ride on the footpath if you're under twelve? And you're not under twelve, are you? It doesn't set a very good example when the grown-ups can't follow the laws and its a $50 fine for each infringement..."

By that stage I was so embarrassed I was giggling, blushing and saying, "No officer, sorry officer". He said if I promised to walk the bike home he would not fine me. "Yes officer, sorry officer, thankyou officer," I said. As it happened, my back tyre had a slow leak, so I would have had to have walked anyhow. I kept giggling all the way, and when I was almost back to my destination which was about ten minutes walk away, he drove past to check-up on me!

That's small-town police for you.