The Name Game

Today's odd zoo facts are brought to you courtesy of Reality, which remains obstinately stranger than Fiction anyday.

Meet the GoldenPalace.com Monkey, otherwise known as Callicebus aureipalatii. The naming rights had been auctioned off to raise funds to continue research into wildlife habitats and preservation, so it's all for a good cause, and at least in Latin, Golden Palace Monkey does sound rather classy.

Which is more than you can say for Agathidium bushi, Agathidium cheneyi and Agathidium rumsfeld, the three most recently named new species of mould-eating beetles discovered by entomologists Quentin Wheeler and Kelly Miller, and which were named after the unholy trinity of George Bush, Dick Cheney, and Donald Rumsfeld. Other beetles had been named after the scientists' wives, and Darth Vader.

A Wholphin is apparently what you call the offspring of a whale and a dolphin. Personally, the naming of hybrid animals always reminds me of bored children playing at riddles, rather along the lines of: What do you get if you cross a sheep with a kangaroo? A woolly jumper!

I don't know. We have scientists in China fusing human cells with rabbit eggs, and the only rational response appears to be to sit back and nod sagely and say, ah, yes, there be chimeras.

The only thing weirder than our world is our response to it.

Scooby Doo, Where Are You?

Saturday mornings I don't watch TV anymore, I just find something tolerable and leave it running in the background while I get on with the rest of my morning. Rage generally does the job, but after a certain hour it's all hip-hop, and there's nothing quite so lame-arsed or irritating as wannabe gangstas showing off their bling and shoving their pathetic porn fantasies in your face.

So I do a lot of channel hopping.

Unfortunately, last Saturday, certain stations decided that what everybody really wanted to watch was some dead religious leader's funeral, and regular programming got all jerked around.

Which had one unexpected upshot, because I discovered Scooby Doo was back.

This was new Scooby Doo. But it was just like old Scooby Doo - in other words, GOOD Scooby Doo. It was funny, it'd freshened up the characters and the premise without losing any of their old quirks. It had the whole gang and the Mystery Van and even inside jokes for the fans. It had clearly been written and produced by the generation that had, like me, grown up on the classic Scooby Doo cartoons and wanted to experience that old magic again.

So this morning, I make a point of actually watching something on TV instead of having it run ubiquitous music video pop trash in the background and what happens? There's no Scooby Doo. Checked the Free-To-Air guide. Nothing. Where's my Scooby Doo? It was there last Saturday! Had it just been filler because one dead pope screwed up regular programming schedules? Unfair. Most unfair.

Well, I've learned my lesson. This is what I get for having faith in TV. Next Saturday, it's back to Triple J. TV can go watch itself.

Sick and Disgusted

It looks like the crazy weather we recently experienced- four seasons in a week - has finally tripped up my immune system.

My eyes feel like water ballons, my throat's thick, and my nasal passages are filled with that sticky stretchy mucous that feels like melted mozarella and tastes like, well, snot.

But that could just have been hay-fever. I didn't accept I was truly sick until I realised, deep in my sniffling head-muffled misery, that the only food I wanted for lunch was takeaway combination Chinese.

And I was actually disappointed when they'd run out of sweet and sour fish.

Now that's sick.

Pope Wanted - Apply Here

www.bethepope.com. A job for life. Your own fan club. The chance to be canonised.
Alas, as an atheist and a female, I'm illegible to apply (the early history of the church notwithstanding). Maybe I should take this up with the Equal Opportunities Board. Hmmm...

Keeping my hard-earned

While browsing through Angus & Robertson's Murray Street store today I noticed a sign in the SF/F (that's science fiction and fantasy for the 'danes) section. A listing of the top 5 SF/F bestsellers for the month. Now, I'd just like to point out that I almost never visit the SF/F section in any bookstore with the sole exception of the various Elizabeth's second-hand stores. The details of the sign might give you an idea why:

1. Lord of the Rings
2. Magician
3. Assassin's Apprentice
4. Colour of Magic
5. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

They were all published at least a decade ago. Not a single new release. And why is that? Because all the new releases are just fuckin' awful. Banal characters playing out rehashed plots by second-rate authors. Even the new wave greats like Brin, Bear and Gibson are producing crud. And they're charging me $20 for the privilege. Is it any wonder that even those who were born after most of the top five were written are choosing to buy them instead of the current crop?

Where are the likes of Zelazny, Harrison and Niven? Their stuff still has reasonance today and has held up well - despite Niven's early stories having been outpaced by scientific advances they're still a great read. But even if you ignore the fact that you can no longer buy most of the great SF/F works in A&R any longer - they're even hard to find in Elizabeth's now - where are today's Zelanys, Harrisons and Nivens? More to the point where are today's Brins, Bears and Gibsons? Like Asimov, Heinlein and Herbert they're effectively dead. The vision has been lost. So I'll be keeping my hard-earned until someone finds it again and breathes new life into a stagnated industry.

QOTD

All laws should be based on morals. its the moral thing to do. otherwise the cavity of immorality will rot away the molars of our morals.

-- Shania Twain

QOTD

Prince Charles Finally Ready to Marry The Man of His Dreams

Headline on Google News

Bad Headline Day

Catholics pray for gravely ill pope.

Headline, The West Australian, 2nd April 2005.

I guess it worked. They got one.

A Foolish Death

Call me a cynic, if you will, but it is my opinion that JP2 is dead. Not that I really care, not being a catholic or even a Christian, but at least JP2 went out better than JP1, who, if you believe the conspiratorists, was most likely murdered by someone in his inner circle.

Why, you may ask, is the Vatican hiding the truth? The simple answer would be to say because it is the Vatican. They've been hiding the truth since their very inception. A simpler answer would be because the death occurred on the 1st of April and I suspect that a good number of Catholics would be inclined to believe that it is just a Fools Day prank - albeit one in bad taste. It would be a bad omen if the second last pontiff before Judgement Day was to die on the day of fools. So the Vatican has graciously postponed the death until tomorrow, or maybe the day after, we'll probably never know exactly when he died. Perhaps I'll call them when I'm on my deathbed and see if they can postpone my death for a century or twelve. But they'll probably only even take the call if I converted.

Funny how according to some Christian doctrine you can be an arsehole your entire life and still achieve salvation if you repent with your dying breath. Probably explains why there are so many arseholes in the world. Unfortunately, it doesn't explain me.

The First Day of April

Looks like the weather decided to spring an April Fool's all of its own: SURPRISE! IT'S WINTER! Ha bloody ha ha.

To commemorate this giddy day, here's a list of the 10 worst April Fool's jokes ever pulled. Not "worst" as in "inept", but as in "inappropriate" to put it politely.

1. (1998) Uday Hussein's newspaper claims then US President Clinton will lift sanctions against Iraq. The following year, it claimed that food rations would include bananas, Pepsi and chocolate.

2. (2000) Romanian newspaper claims prisoners will be released from a remote prison, only to reveal it was all a joke.

3. Informing your vacationing co-worker the deadline for his big report's due early, and working him into such a state of panic and ill health he's forced to take early retirement, and then you tell him it was just a joke.

4. Tying a dead dog to your co-worker's car without their knowledge, and letting them happily drive for miles and miles with dead dog dragging to the horror of other motorists.

5. Pissed off with your ex? Try traumatising her with the belief that she's caused your suicide.

6. Call your boss (who's at home) and tell him armed men are robbing the shop!

7. (1996) A Russian news agency reported that the Russian parliament was debating reviving the Warsaw pact, causing panic in the affected countries.

8. (1986) Israeli Radio reported the assassination of a prominent Shi'ite leader, causing tensions in the region to flare up.

9. (1999) DJs announced to their horrified listeners that the local dam had burst. Remembering the floods of the previous year, terrified homeowners fled the area.

10. (2003) "The Americans have accidentally fired a nuclear missile into British forces, killing seven." - The Iaqi Ambassador to Russia, to a press conference in Moscow, as US-led Coalition forces were storming into Iraq.

April Fools! Hoo boy, those Iraqis.

We're not starving

Now I suspect the Football Federation of Australia believe that a starving man shouldn't be choosey. And when they discover that the man isn't willing to eat the poor-quality shit dished up to them they blame the man instead of concerning themselves with improving the fair. This is what happened last night at Subiaco Oval.

Just under fourteen-thousand people watched Australia's second-string side beat Indonesia's second-string side. The FFA are allegedly complaining about the size of the crowd, but they have no reason to complain. The match was at best a poorly conceived and organised B-grade friendly between two out-of-form sides. It was allegedly all about raising money for the Tsunami Relief Fund. But I ask you, if the FFA really wanted to entice the crowd to spend their cash why choose to stage it on Easter Tuesday night? Who wants to go to work after a four-day break and then head out that night to watch two B-sides play a meaningless game of football? Under fourteen-thousand Perthites, that's who.

It's been 10 years since the last International was played in Perth and that was a 1-0 loss to Ghana. Last night's poor crowd showing will likely mean that it will be a long time before Perth gets another International. This will be a further blow to the already ailing sport. Anyone who has been to a Glory game knows what an intimidating place the crowd can make Perth for visiting teams. We love our football. There is no reason why we can't create a similar home game advantage for the Australian Football Team. If you give us a fair go.

A few years ago Cricket Australia was threatening to remove the Perth Test from the schedule because of poor ticket sales. What they failed to take into consideration was that the poor ticket sales reflected the poor quality opposition teams. We don't get a lot of international cricket here in Perth, but what we do get we expect to be of the best quality. Where two visiting teams would be playing Australia over the summer series the Perth Test would always feature the weaker of the those two teams. So it was no wonder that they received a poor turnout when the best cricket team in the world is up against Zimbabwe, or depleted New Zealand or English teams. Only the NZ game lasted more than three days and that was drawn. Cricket Australia seem to have realised their mistake and have taken measures to rectify it. The Perth Test featured Pakistan last season and will feature South Africa, for the first time, next season. We're not expecting to receive top-grade all the time, but we do expect it sometimes. Thankfully in the cricket world that is now happening.

Unfortunately, Australian football has a long way to go. The top opposition sides have always been reserved for the East Coast grounds. If the move into AFC pays off then, the FFA has an opportunity follow in Cricket Australia's footsteps and spread the good teams around. With quality International football the people of Perth will swarm the tables of the FFA, even on Easter Tuesday. All the FFA needs to do is provide a better spread. But until they do, there will be lacklauster support at best, because frankly, while we may be hungry, we're certainly not starving.

Ask A Glass of Water

I'm determined to get into this pub thing: hanging out with friends over a drink or two - you know, socialising. Being normal people.

Having spent my teens and twenties as a miserably shy geek girl, however, I've never really grokked all those mysterious things other girls did like wear make-up and gossip and fuck boys and coordinate handbags with shoes. And not having grown up in Australia, I knew even less about drinking.

Last time I went pubbing (also the first time) I stupidly said I'd have a beer, too, along with everyone else. Four sips. And a bag of chips to get rid of the after-taste. Ee-yeuch. People enjoy this?

So this time I wouldn't have beer. I asked the bartender what I could have that wasn't beer (and that wasn't just a fizzy drink - pointless going to a pub for a lemon squash, right?), and she recommended a Bacardi Breezer with lime. Nice pick. I can really do this, I thought as I drank the stuff, I can drink at a pub and just chill and have a pleasant afternoon.

Now, alcohol is a poison. However attractively flavoured with lime juice. And since most people I know have been drinking the stuff since they were old enough to lie about their age, that means they've built up a certain amount of immunity to it. They can handle moderate amounts of alcohol, say one standard drink, over lunch and not fall over.

Me, I get drunk on half a glass of red wine. So.

Halfway through my Breezer, I felt the cotton wool start padding my grey cells. It didn't feel so bad. Five minutes after finishing the bottle (remember, one standard drink) I was flushed. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks. It still didn't feel too bad.

We left the pub, and the headache began. Then the nausea. And for some damned reason, the flatulence. I was not happy.

Skribe thought it was funny, but then he always finds my misery hilarious.

I was, of course, hungover, and it being the middle of a hot and humid afternoon didn't help. The hot chippies, jam tart, and bottled water didn't help much either. Being dehydrated, and adding a diuretic into my system essentially meant I would have to put a whole lot more liquid back into the system to wash out the alcohol.

Largely all I've done since coming home is drink water and sleep. At one point, I could feel my eyeballs throbbing. Weird. I still have a headache whenever I'm upright, and I'm getting really tired of all those little side trips to expel all that water I've been ingesting. And I still have a headache.

Skribe informs me that we're going pubbing again next Friday. He reckons I need more practice drinking. That I'll get used to it soon enough.

And I find myself thinking, as must have every other novice drinker out there since the first alcoholic beverage was fermented, that it's not drinking that's the problem - it's being drunk. Why, what's wrong with being drunk? Douglas Adams said it best: Ask a glass of water.

Mysteries of the Universe #1701

Skribe and I both dreamed Star Trek last night. In full glorious 60s technicolour. We do not know why.

We've both been busy, it's true. Real life and deadlines have been chewing up processing time in our heads such that when we do unwind it's by distracting ourselves with DVD serials - he's been compulsively working his way through 24 and I've been absorbed by The Last Exile. In fact, I can't get that damned opening theme out of my head. It's like Nine In Nails gone philosophical, with bagpipes. And a seriously rocking video clip.

So where did the freaky Star Trek dreams come from? Why on earth did we both dream Star Trek (and old Star Trek at that) on the same freaking night? Mind you, they would have both made fairly decent, if very 60s, old ST episodes, but that's completely beside the point.

The point is that it was a bloody odd coincidence, the sort of odd coincidence that starts you questioning the unlikeliness of it being a coincidence at all, and wondering if there really is a pattern to all events - however difficult to discern. And if there is, what the hell two people dreaming about stories set in a (sometimes thought-provoking, sometimes hokey 60s) SF TV show could possibly mean.

If there is any meaning to this universe, it's a damnably stupid one.

PS: And when in doubt, blame the cat.

Harmony Week: the Aftermath

Officially, it's over. But for some of us, it's still ongoing.

"Hey, I saw you on TV the other day!"

"Thanks. Could I have a wholemeal loaf, please?"

Pre-production was a challenge. Why did the doctor absolutely have to be an African Muslim? Don't know, although we found one in the end. Well, she was Muslim, she was from South Africa, she was happy to play doctor for the cameras, and she had a great collection of headscarves.

All in all, we were a great cast, and we all had enormous fun, particularly in Northbridge, since we could dress up for that and just giggle ourselves stupid. Apparently, the director wanted Sex In The City. We felt more like Golden Girls. By half-past eleven, we all just wanted to go home to our families and sleep. The crew scoffed down the olives and the minestrone.

Funnily, on paper, our multi-ethnic cast appeared homogenously European. We should have made a game of it - match the name to the face: Bergmann, Boltman, Drysdale, and me. Who was which?

"Hey, your ad was on at 4am, man."

"good."

Post-production was an utter nightmare. Sometimes it seemed like we would never finish the damned thing to the satisfaction of the assorted sub-committees involved. Other days, it felt like every technical thing that could glitch did.

"Whoever heard of a woman construction worker?"

"She's supposed to be an engineer, or a safety officer. Something. There's a fire behind her, for goodness' sake."

"Oh, right."

Did the ad achieve whatever it was meant to? No idea. Harmony Week was duly advertised. Some of us got television experience and credit, and some of us got freebies, and some of us learned never ever to do this again.

And I still haven't been reimbursed my cab fare home from Northbridge, damnit.

QOTD

Maybe I was brave, I don't know. At the time I was just doing the job, I didn't have time for other thoughts.

--Private Johnson Beharry VC

Lost in translation

The whole kafuffle over the AFL televising rights might be a little confusing to some so I thought I'd offer some clarification by translating some of Eddie McGuire's comments into English.

Let's not forget that this game of AFL football is still in a precarious economic condition

We won't be able to afford to have 11 clubs based in Melbourne unless the AFL royally screws its televising partner.

The competitive balance fund still keeps three clubs alive in Melbourne

Collingwood needs to have someone to beat.

Let there be no mistake, yesterday's announcement by channels Seven and Ten to join forces was a bold bid for the television rights and it is obviously also a deliberate effort to knock Channel Nine out cold, out of the auction for the next round of television rights

Let there be no mistake, we don't like our own dirty tricks being used against us.

This is also a major push to get the rights at bargain-basement prices, which will happen if Channel Nine is out of the game and out of the auction.

We abhore a free market unless we're the ones getting the bargain-basement prices..

The AFL has to do what is right for the short- and long-term survival of the 16 clubs in the competition, for the good of the players, so that young athletes want to play AFL football and most importantly, for the good of the supporters and the members.

The AFL should continue to throw good money after bad.

We are not done at Nine. Not by a long shot. We have a bloke called Kerry Packer who has forgotten more about this caper than the blokes we are up against will ever know. For the sake of footy, Kerry Packer, big Kerry, had better come up with something, because I tell you what, we are headed straight back to the old days if the money is not there, if there is no auction.

My job is on the line unless Big Kerry is willing to fork over at least half-a-billion.

It is not who throws the first punch in a fight, it is who throws the last.

I'm screwed.

There will be lucky to be eight clubs left in the competition if the competitive balance fund goes

We prefer to prop up eight financially unviable clubs at the cost of millions of dollars per season so as not to upset the few remaining supporters.

I hope that helps.

QOTD

The book is everywhere. There is a very real risk that many people who read it will believe that the fables it contains are true.

-- Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, Archbishop of Genoa

Pot. Kettle. Black.

No Cannes Do

After the disappointment of being rejected by Eat Carpet yesterday, today we discovered that we had missed out on selection for Cannes. Not that we were expecting to be picked, but it would have been nice. It seems it is going to be one of those weeks. Oh well. Look ever forward.

No Eating

The wait is over and it's all bad news, I'm afraid.

In January we submitted our film, The Audition, to Eat Carpet. I finally heard from them today. Unfortunately, they didn't accept it claiming budgetary concerns. I'm not sure whether that's just stock-standard bullshit that they tell everyone or whether it's true owing to the fact that they would have been forced to write a big fat cheque as a result of The Audition being 13 minutes long. They pay by the minute.

So, The Audition will not be doing the Eat Carpet thing.

Equal Rights

Do you feel that others should have more rights than you? Should geographical location be the sole reason for granting said increased rights? The Western Australian Farmers' Federation seems to believe that those that live in the country deserve more rights than those that live in the city.

In WA we currently have a gerrymander for voting in our state parliament. This means that it takes less votes to win a country seat than it does to win a city seat because the electorates are made up of fewer people. Effectively, this means that those living in the city have less voting power than those living in the country. For instance, the seat of Albany had roughly 14,500 voters in the recent election, whereas Wanneroo had a little over 31,000. That's over twice as many people. So what, you might say. Country people need all the help they can get. Yeah but it gets really silly when you consider that Mandurah is considered to be a country seat, whereas both Rockingham and Peel are city seats. Basically, it's a stupid system and badly outdated.

The Labor Party have been pushing for years to have it changed, mainly because the gerrymander favours the conservatives - in particular the Nationals. However, the legislation has constantly been blocked by the Legislative Council, which has an even more ridiculous gerrymander. There are just over 68,000 votes in the Mining and Pastoral Region, as opposed to just shy of 400,000 in North Metropolitan. The last time the legislation lost by one vote.

The result of the latest election could change all that. Unlike the Legislative Assembly, which changes immediately after the election, the make-up of the Legislative Council doesn't change until May. As a result Labor may have two opportunities to push the legislation through the upper house. Either through a majority in the own right in the new Council or with the help of the independents in the old Council. We can only hope so.

We need an end to the gerrymander. We need this legislation to pass. If Geoff Gallop manages nothing more in his tenure as Premier he will have done a great deal for this state. We need one vote, one value. Only then will all the voters in this state have equal rights.