It’s Australias day

Published on January 25, 2012 in Musings. 0 Comments

Dear reader, on the eve of Australia Day (that’s the day that we descendants of white Europeans officially celebrate the colonization of the great land of Oz and those who like to think of  themselves as representatives of the original inhabitants of the great land of Oz think of themselves as being invaded), I thought I would turn my thoughts to the concept of patriotism. I do this because the other day, I was accused of being “un-Australian” because I have never played the game of Two-Up. In response, I assured my accuser that I also did not like Vegemite, support Rugby League or fly the Australian flag from my car.

My personal belief is that I don’t need to go out of my way to prove that I am patriotic. I was born in Australia, grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney and have only ever left the shores of this great southern island once – certainly many less times than a lot of my peers.

I don’t think there is any defined definition of what makes an Australian an Aussie. If you take a random sampling of us, you’ll find every one of those questioned would have a different idea of what it means to be Australian. The one thing that they would all agree on is that we are an easy going and tolerant people in general. The term “she’ll be right mate” is one that really should be considered the countries motto. It fits so well in all situations – been bitten by a funnel web spider?

She’ll be right mate.

For most of the 20th Century, defining the culture of Australia was pretty easy. We were a prime example  of everything British in the first half and then things started to change when those strange foreign people started to arrive. For the most part, since these new comers were from Europe, they were happily accepted into our communities and as a result, their skills contributed to some of the major infrastructure improvements that we take for granted today.

The Greeks, for instance, integrated themselves into Australian society so well that you couldn’t go to a milk bar without being served by one of them PLUS they didn’t really care that their business establishments were referred to as “wog bars” by us when we were kids. At that stage, multiculturalism was in  its infancy and wasn’t the wussy girl it is now.

Australia is a haven for people wanting to start a new life. It always has been and I hope it always will be. The world today is a different one to when i was a kid. We had “boat people” then but they were Vietnamese people escaping from a regime that was quite happy to kill anyone who disagreed with them.

Nowdays, the “boat people” come from a different place and we’re unsure what to do with them. However, that’s one of the great things about being Australian – it doesn’t matter where you come from, you’re going to be welcomed with open arms by most people because Australia is a place where we aren’t that worried about who you are or where you come from. We just want  you to enjoy the better life that you came looking for.

We Aussies only ask one thing of you when you come here to stay – leave all your excess baggage behind. You made the decision to leave your crappy country for a better life so we’d prefer it if you didn’t try to turn this place into your crappy country. Embrace the new freedoms you have found here and take time to relax.

After all, at the end of the day, she’ll be right mate.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 218: Ethelred the Unready, King of England in the Tenth-century, spent his wedding night in bed with his wife and his mother-in-law.

Thank you Mrs. Nibbs

Published on January 10, 2012 in Journal. 0 Comments

Dear Mrs. Nibbs,

I can’t believe that it has really been just over 30 years and one month since we last sat together and talked about my future. It really doesn’t seem that long ago to me but time has this strange way of screwing our memories around as we get older – the good times are fleeting and  meetings seem to last for days.

Anyways, enough of worrying about the way time flies. Recently, thanks to the mystery of life that is six degrees of separation, our mutual friend, Jule Hankin, told me that you had decided to retire from teaching at the end of last year. I was quite shocked because I didn’t think that you would be old enough to be giving the game away. I always thought you were only about 10 years older than me which would give you at least another 5 or so years or so chipping away at the impenetrable walls that are teenage minds.

When I heard the news, I felt that I had to at least wish you well in your new life of ease but I also wanted to let you know what effect you had on my life. You may never have known that your efforts to teach me had any kind of effect on me, but hindsight is a most wonderful creature and when I look back over this past 30 years, you definitely had a  positive influence on me.

I had the privilege of being taught English by you in 1980 & 1981. My initial thoughts on meeting you were that you were too thin and could really do with a bit of a feed, although if you were like that now, you would probably be classed as a super-model and be living the high life somewhere exotic. The other little thing that I found odd about you was that you wore a gold mens watch, analogue and wind-up. I asked you about that and you told me that for some reason, your body tended to suck the life out of ladies watches. Was I impressed by that?

Yeah.

I don’t think that you saw your role as one to teach us English in the traditional meaning. As year 9 &10 students, we really should have been beyond all of that before getting to high school anyway and, most of us knew how to read (albeit excruciatingly slowly in some cases) and write (in my case, there were at least 2 letters in each line of writing that was legible).

You will be happy to know that the advice you gave me about never ever using Cursive again has stuck with me all this time and I have been printing everything that I physically write.

Rather, you were there to teach us how to appreciate the English language in its various forms from poetry to plays to novels. Even pop music came into play one term when you had us analyzing songs. I may have actually done well on that assignment so one out of a years worth isn’t really that bad is it?

The things that I realised that I had gotten from you was that love of literature and the English language. There is nothing I enjoy more than to being able to make time to devour a book. I am currently reading the collected works of Kurt Vonnegut but my real love is Stephen King but I will read anything given to me good, bad or indifferent. I have still not read anything of Shakespeare.

I also took from you a small passion for putting words down on paper (or on a computer screen nowdays). When you consider the “essays” that I produced for assignments, you would probably think that writing anything would be the last thing that I would be interested in doing but I have discovered the beauty and power of words that you obviously saw and tried to pass onto me all those years ago. This is why I took up writing my various blogs.

The last conversation we had was on December 4, 1980 just after I had been handed my school certificate. Unfortunately, you had been forced by me through my general apathy of that year to give me the final grade that I got but when I confronted you about it, you told me that you felt I had the potential to do better and that I should continue onto year 11. I guess you realised that I had sabotaged my own future and were willing to throw me a lifeline.

Had I been able to return the next year, I would not have progressed to year 11 – I would have repeated year 10 and developed the potential you saw in me. I realised a number of years ago, if I had, I probably would have been more likely to go into teaching than where I am now. What would I have taught? Ironically, English (although that’s probably the incorrect use of irony).

I don’t know if I have said what I wanted to say properly. It always sounds better in my head but once I start typing it and having to put it into some coherent order, things get lost somewhere. I just wanted to thank you for being one of the important people in my life who probably would not have known how much of a positive influence in it you were.

So to you Mrs. Nibbs…. well I guess now that I am an adult, I can call you Jo-Anne. So to  you Jo-Anne, I say thank you for giving me that insight into what the English language could be and the joy of reading. It means that you did good.

Happy retirement.

Kevin Wilson

The end is the beginning of the end

Published on December 31, 2011 in Journal. 0 Comments

Well dear reader, that’s it for 2011.

And what a year it has been. Global economies have been merrily crashing around everyones ears, nature has taken a few swipes at the human infestation of the planet through flood, fire and the odd volcano and earthquake and Molly Meldrum seems to have survived falling off a ladder putting up Christmas decorations.

I’ve always said Christmas was a dangerous time of the year.

Once again, I have managed to keep a generally low profile and achieved my preferred level of averageness. I’ve found some new friends, lost/misplaced some old friends and became reacquainted with some friends I haven’t caught up with in a while. Of all of the friends I have have been involved with, building bridges and getting back together with old friends has been the best part of my 2011 friendship status.

Of course, the end of a year is the time when people reflect on what they have/have not achieved in the past 12 months of their lives. Some will obsess over it, others will just say “meh” and move on. I live in the latter camp.

For me, 2011 was nothing extraordinary. I didn’t make any life changing decisions or live beyond anyones expectations, although I highly doubt anyone in my life expects too much excitement or spontaneity out of me. Since it has been predicted that the world will cease to exist at the end of 2012, I figure I should look ahead and attempt to predict what the next 12 months has in store for me. Let’s see if any of my predictions for 2012 come true:

January:

The ghost of my grandmother will come to me on what would have been her 112th birthday to remind me of what a poor excuse for a human being I am and how my idiot older brother is a much better person than I could ever be. She will also produce the pair of underpants with skidmarks that were used as an excuse for not taking me and my idiot older brother to the beach one summer to emphasize her point.

February:

I will turn 46 and declare that I am now middle aged as it is my intention to die at 92. This is an age that I have deemed to be acceptable as I also predict all of my mental and physical attributes will be intact and Euthanasia will finally be legalised.

March:

My idiot older brother will finally realise that the universe does not revolve around him and he will stop blaming everyone else for the way his life turned out. I will welcome him back into the family unit with open arms and find many new and interesting ways to humiliate him on a daily basis.

April:

The tradition of “April Fools Day” will come to an end when a seemingly harmless prank directed at the President of the USA by the Prime Minister of Australia results in the carpet bombing of Tasmania. At the same time, Easter will be given a definitive date.

May:

The Australian Dollar becomes the standard by which all other world currencies are measured against after China repossesses the United States due to their inability to repay their loans and Europe finally gives the game away financially and returns to the dark ages. Let them eat cake will become the new call to arms.

June:

The fan base of Star Trek will become so large that it will be able to declare itself a religion, claim tax exemption and influence world governments to move towards the ideals espoused by Gene Roddenberry when he created the show.

July:

The Australian Tax Office (ATO) will introduce a new tax return. It will have two questions – “how much did you earn” and “what is 50% of that amount”. Overnight, the Australian Government will become rich beyond the wildest dreams of the rest of the world.

August:

A 77 year old Elvis Presley will emerge from hiding to reclaim his title of the King Of Rock & Roll. Graceland will be closed to the public and Elvis will once again take up residence. His first demand will be a deep fried peanut butter sandwich packed with Quaalude’s.

September:

The aliens who originally built the pyramids in Egypt will return to see the results of their labours. Disappointed with what they find, they remove the pyramids and reanimate Tutankhamen who goes on what ends up being an unstoppable rampage and destroys the entire country.

October:

North Korean President, Kim Jong-Un, realises he has got the most ridiculous hair cut in the world and that’s why no-one takes him seriously. He lets his hair grow out and re-unites North and south Korea and becomes a major player on the world stage not too far behind Australia.

November:

Dolphins, whales and sharks suddenly disappear from the worlds oceans. Japan goes into depression as a result. Only one man knows the reason for this mass desertion of the planet of this sea life but he refuses to tell.

December:

The world ends on the 21st. Have you not seen the movie? The special effects alone were worth admission price!!!

That’s how I see it dear reader. If any of my predictions come true, I will be amazed at myself and totally bemused by the way the universe works. If none of them come true, then I’ll be happy knowing that I am full of shit.

Dear reader, all that is left to say is that I wish you and whatever you have in your life that passes for a family or life partner nothing but the best for 2012. May your dreams come true and my your love for your fellow man grow stronger.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 217: Princess Ann was the only competitor at the 1976 Montreal Olympics that did not have to undergo a sex test.

The Backflipboys Christmas Special

Published on December 24, 2011 in Journal and Musings. 0 Comments

Merry Christmas dear reader.

Well, it’s that time of the year once again when thoughts turn to Christmas and, since I haven’t really posted anything worthy of reading in quite a while, I thought that I might regale you with memories of Christmas from my childhood.

They have to be from my then because nowdays I try to ignore the festive season as much as possible outside of the  well wishing and free food and booze I end up being offered – it doesn’t have to be Christmas for me to accept free food and booze though. For that, my door is open 24/7.

When we were kids, my mother made sure that Christmas was done in a traditional way. Decorations, Christmas cards strung up on the wall and the traditional Christmas lunch with all the trimmings. The decorations usually went up around the 2nd week of December but we knew for sure that Christmas was closing in on us about a week before the day – suddenly we were banned from entering our parents bedroom and there was absolutely NO LOOKING UNDER THE BED!!! Something we obeyed until it was discovered that Santa wasn’t real and that under the bed was where most of the presents were hidden.

On Christmas Eve, we were sent to bed earlier than normal and our parents waited until they figured we were asleep and they would drag all of the presents out, wrap them and place them under the tree. There was none of this putting gifts under the tree weeks before the day in our house. That would have given away the secret of Santa. Mind you, I gave that secret away myself when I inadvertently stumbled upon the real “Santas” in the backyard attempting to assemble a swing set by the light of a torch. I was sworn to secrecy but blabbed the next day to my brothers anyway – who doesn’t enjoy crushing their siblings fantasies?

The living room was locked to prevent us from getting to the presents before the appointed time on Christmas Day but that didn’t stop us trying to see what we could through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. FYI, you can’t see that much. When our parents woke up, they made their way to the lounge room to turn on the Christmas lights and put any finishing touches to the previous nights activities before opening the door and letting us into what (for small impressionable children) looked like a fairyland of lights and a floor covered in wrapped packages. There was also Christmas music playing on the radio too.

For us, it was a fairly ordered affair, with our parents selecting which gifts we would open first – usually the one marked “from Santa”. There was usually one or two big toys, a lot of small toys, books and always new clothes. It’s hard for a kid to get excited about new socks and undies but somehow we managed it and gave hearty thanks as well.

I remember that one year when I was in primary school, my father gave me $5 to buy my mum a present ($5 being a pretty hefty sum in those days). I bought a relatively cheap bottle of perfume from the local chemist and proudly presented it to her on Christmas morning and I felt that she appreciated the thought that went into my gift. When I was clearing out her belongings after she died, I found that little bottle of perfume on her dressing table. She may never have used it since she never really wore perfume, but she never threw it out. Out of curiosity, I opened it to see what it smelled like.

It was bloody awful.

The ritual opening of presents took about an hour then it was eat breakfast, get dressed and be banished from the house to the yard to play while my mother got started on Christmas lunch.

I mentioned earlier that we always had a traditional Christmas lunch. Obviously, the tradition of roast turkey and lamb, baked potatoes and pumpkin and assorted other vegetables boiled to within an inch of their lives was one that had traveled over from England with the first fleeters and would have been perfectly suited to an English Christmas in the middle of Winter. There is a measure of insanity in attempting the same thing in the middle of an Australian Summer but every year, my mother did it. In todays modern age, it isn’t a big deal but you have to bear in mind that our house was a housing commission place, constructed of only the finest asbestos laden fibro sheeting with no insulation and home air conditioners hadn’t been invented – it was, after all, the ’70′s.

Christmas lunch was always at our house so the lounge room became a temporary dining room for the day. Until my mother and my Aunt had a falling out, there was a fairly large crowd that would descend upon our modest abode and my mother would catch up on all the happenings going on in her side of the family. As my father was originally from Queensland and none of his relatives ever visited, we never knew what they were up to.

Christmas Day was also the only day of the year that my mum indulged in a bit of alcohol. When we were young, it was usually a shandy but later, she enjoyed a few glasses of Passion Pop and when I eventually took over the role of cooking Christmas Lunch, I made sure that she indulged quite a bit because she really loosened up and seemed to be happier.

After lunch was over and whatever guests we had were gone, all that was left was the clean up and returning the living room to its original purpose. Since we were all too full, we generally never had an evening meal – if we ever did, it was something light like a sandwich or breakfast cereal. For a number of years, my older brother and I were shipped off to my grandmothers place for two weeks. I don’t know what the reason for this was because my grandmother disliked me immensely and I had a miserable time – but that’s another story for another time.

All in all, Christmas when I was a kid was a special day. My memories of them are happy ones. Even knowing that Santa wasn’t real didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for the day. It was just that one day of the year where everybody had a good time together and whatever nastiness that went on throughout the year was forgotten and family was more valuable than anything else.

So, dear reader, in the spirit of Christmas past, when my life was simpler and I wasn’t as cynical as I am today, I would like to wish you and your family and friends a very merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year. 2011 has been an interesting year of ups and downs but we can hold out hope that 2012 will be a lot more stable.

Don’t forget to leave the cookies and milk out for Santa.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 216 – People in Siberia often buy milk frozen on a stick – down here in the land of Oz, we call that an Ice Cream.

Reasons men are seldom depressed

Published on November 29, 2011 in Musings. 0 Comments

1 – Our last name stays put – She changes hers.
2 – The garage is all ours – she never goes there.
3 – Wedding plans take care of themselves.
4 – Chocolate is just another snack.
5 – We can never be pregnant.
6 – We can wear a white T-shirt to a water park – man nipples are in no way offensive.
7 – We can wear NO shirt to a water park – unless you have man boobs In that case, a burk-ah will work.
8 – Car mechanics tell you the truth.
9 – The world is our urinal.
10 – We never have to drive to another Petrol station toilet because “this one is just too icky”.
11 – We don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
12 – Wrinkles add character, not age.
13 – Wedding dress $2500. Suit rental-$125.
14 – People never stare at your chest when you’re talking to them.
15 – New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle our feet.
16 – We have one mood all the  time.
17 – Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
18 – We know stuff about tanks.
19 – A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
20 – We can open our own  jars.
21 – If someone forgets to invite you to an event, he or she can still be your friend.
22 – Our underwear is  $5.00 for a three-pack.
23 – Three pairs of shoes are more than enough
24 – We are unable to see wrinkles in clothes.
25 – Everything on our face stays its original colour, the same hairstyle lasts for years (maybe decades) and we only have to shave your face and neck.
26 – We can play with toys all of our life.
27 – One wallet and one pair of shoes plus one colour for all seasons.
28 – We can wear shorts no matter how our legs look.
29 – We ‘do’ their nails with a pocket knife.
30 – We have freedom of choice concerning growing a moustache.
31 – Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 can be done in in 25 minutes.

No wonder men are happier.

I think it’s time for a joke

Published on July 14, 2011 in Musings. 0 Comments

Greetings dear reader. I heard an amusing joke the other day so I thought I might share it with you. If you are of Greek or Roman descent, you may be offended so go here if you’re a bit of a girl. Onto the joke.

In heaven, an ancient Greek and a Roman were talking about which culture was the better one.

The Greek said “We built the Parthenon and other great architectural wonders.”  The Roman replied “Yes, that may be, but we built the colluseum, one of the grandest buildings that will stand for thousands of years.”

“Hmm,” thought the Greek. “Ahh, but we Greeks are masters of art and literature – the cornerstones of civilisation.” The Roman considered this and replied “That may be, but the Roman empire  encompassed almost the entire known world. We brought civilisation to hundreds of thousands of people.”

Once again, the Greek felt he had been outdone. Finally, he thought he had a winner. “Right you, we Greeks invented sex. Beat that.”

The Roman thought for a moment. “True, your people may have invented sex, but we Romans thought it might work out better if we had it with women.”

Goodnight, I’m here all week.

Let me leave you with a video I found amusing. This is a childrens book I’d read to my kids if I was silly enough to have them.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvdoPzrzWM0

My future is secure, but wrong.

Published on June 14, 2011 in Musings and Rants. 0 Comments

I rarely get to read a proper newspaper nowdays since people seem to not leave them lying around in trains anymore, but when I do, I take the opportunity to see what is in store for me for the day by way of reading my horoscope (mainly because it’s on the same page as the comics). Being an Aquarius, I am curious by nature and easily amused – the horoscope page fulfills both of these aspects of my life.

In that respect, I would like to share with you the first few lines of my horoscope, as determined by Jonathan Cainer who  (judging by the little photo accompanying his astrology column) appears to be about the feast on something or someone tasty, from todays Sydney Daily Telegraph newspaper:

“Whatever you do it will be wrong in the eyes of someone, who will criticise it. You will cause them offense or you will fail to meet an expectation.”

I feel this is a bit of a “derrr” moment so I’ll pause so you can say it ……

Ready to move on? Great.

I’m certain Jon C. thinks that he’s helping out all the Aquarians reading the paper today, but the thing is that everything anyone does or says will always be wrong in  eyes of someone and those people will in fact criticise them for it. It doesn’t matter what star sign, colour, gender, height etc you are, someone is always going to take a negative view of anything you do and chances are someone’s going to be mightily offended. I know this because I generally offend at least two people per day.

It’s not really Cainers fault though. Like every other hack astrologer writing up columns for newspapers worldwide, he’s got to come up with a “one size fits all” type of paragraph for each individual star sign every day of the year and just mentioning generic things will ultimately appeal to a certain percentage of the population. I’m pretty sure that there are other Aquarians out there who read todays posting and thought that described them to a “T” and just as many who read it and rolled their eyes at it’s ambiguousness.

Astrology in itself is just fortune telling, as much as Tarot Card reading and stirring up the contents of a bucket of goat entrails will predict the future. As celebrated scam artist PT Barnum, who was widely but erroneously credited with saying, once said “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

The interesting thing about these daily horoscopes is that there is  phone number included where you can get a “specially recorded message” that promises to give the “key to your future”. I rang it once just to see where my future lies. I got 3 minutes of rabbiting on about nothing in particular then a minute of invitation to pay money to hear more. I didn’t think finding the key to my future was actually worth it – I prefer the hit and miss that I’ve managed to survive for the past 4 decades.

I think I can comfortably predict my near future without relying on the stars, goat entrails or a knock on the head. I’ll go to work, say something ridiculous, get laughed at and offend people and everyone will have a good time of it.

Except for Cainer – he’ll be upset that I think he’s a fraud and won’t pay him for the key to my future.