Understatement!

This was in the Sydney Morning Herald this morning...

Man's groin impaled on steel fence
January 29, 2007 - 8:16AM
A man was impaled in the groin area when he fell from a first floor balcony on to a steel fence in inner Melbourne early today.
A Metropolitan Ambulance Service spokeswoman said the man, in his early 20s, fell from the balcony of a terrace house in Rathdowne St, Carlton, at about 3.45am (AEDT) today.
He was taken to the Royal Melbourne Hospital in a stable condition.
Metropolitan Fire Brigade station officer Craig Calwell said the man freed himself with the aid of emergency crews.
"We didn't use any rescue equipment. We supported him and he freed himself from the fence," he said.
"He suffered a wound in the groin area and lost a bit of blood. It was quite unfortunate."
AAP

"unfortunate"
Yup. That's one word I'd use.

White Cars II

Dr J and I had to drive over to my bro's place for the mandatory Australia Day Barbecue yesterday, and a guy in a white Toyota Camry decided to make the left onto the freeway from the right lane across 3 lanes of traffic. I mumbled something about white cars and their drivers and Dr J was incensed.

"You can't stereotype people like that", she said. "I just don't believe the colour of someone's car is a reflection of the way they drive", she argued.

So I decided to show her...

We didn't have to wait long... until we found ourselves behind a guy who got to the toll booths in the E-Tag lane and slowed to about 5km/h ( just to make sure his tag beeped, I suppose)... White Ford Falcon.

In the Tunnel... woman, 50km/h (the limit's 80)... White Mitsubishi Magna.

In the ED Tunnel, man, 40km/h... White Jap ute (they all look the same, the ute's, not the Japanese).

Southern Cross Drive, man, cuts across 3 lanes, missing us by about 10cm... White Subaru.

Airport tunnel (which is 5 lanes wide and hardly scary at all), woman, 40 in a 70 zone... White Toyota Camry (different one, though I have noticed these feature routinely).

Cooks River Tunnel, man, 50km/h (80 limit again), reading a book (really... he was, propped on the steering wheel in front of him and it wasn't a street directory)... White Mazda 6.

Somewhere in the back streets of Earlwood, man with whole family in car, stopped in middle of road trying to figure out where he was (pulling over never ocurred to him)... White Commodore.

And finally, on the way home, on the Waringah Expressway, the worst of all worlds, young female P-Plate driver (in the first year of driving here, you have to stick these "P" plates on your car), driving too fast, sending or reading a text message... White BMW 5 series.

By the time we got home, Dr J understood. People who drive white cars really suck.

Joining The Aristocracy

Many thanks to CAW and Mouse for pointing the way into Aristocracy for me. I didn't know it was so easy... I thought you had to be born with a pineapple inserted someplace, and spend years attending upper-class-twit school. Apparently not.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Imperial Majesty Chester Bear The Saturnine of Bismorton Shropcake Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Yup. That'll do for me, though I am having difficulty fitting the full title onto my business card.

And don't worry. This sudden elevation of social status doesn't mean I'm going to lose my touch with the commoners among you. Nor do I require you to address me by my full title when I visit your blog. Your Grace wil be fine.

Curious

They're building a new freeway not far from my place, or, to be more precise, they're building another one of those underground freeways that aren't free and that idiots will drive in at 50 when the limit's 80 because, apparently, it's so scary being in a tunnel.

That's meant a lot of surface roadworks near where the tunnel joins the freeway leading down to the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Last week, they put up a new sign. It reads...

Pedestrians Animals Prohibited

Um. Ok. But, what exactly do they mean?

Are they talking about Pedestrians' Animals, which means you can't take your dog for a walk on the freeway? Ok. But why would you want to?

Or do they mean Pedestrians Or Animals, which raises even more questions. I didn't know that was a problem. Really. I mean, I think the last time someone rode a horse across the Bridge was DeGroot in 1932 when the thing opened. I'm pretty sure there isn't an Elephant Sacturary anywhere in Lane Cove either.

Do they mean animals on their own, orALL animals, even the ones inside the car? What if the cat's coming for a drive, and is curled up on the back window ledge? What about the dog in the back of the ute? (For the language challenged, that's pronounced "yoot", short for "Utility Vehicle" and it's what a pick-up is really called.)

And are the animals supposed to read the sign, in which case, it should be like this one I spotted in a park near Vancouver a few years back (and which I know you've probably seen before).

I am reasonably sure they meant "Pedestrians And Cyclists Prohibited", but the way this place works, thats the sign we've got, so that's the sign we'll keep.

A Very Long Time

I had a call from Dad a few days ago, reminding me that it's Mum's birthday on the 23rd & their 58th Anniversary this week.

I'm really glad he called. I am utterly useless when it comes to remembering stuff like that. I mean, I knew they were towards the end of January sometime, but the exact date? Nah. Just never been able to hold it in my head, even after forty some years.

58 years. That's a bloody long time to be with anyone, and it's a tribute to both of them that they've stuck together. Of course, it was different for their generation. "As long as you both shall live" really meant it. It didn't mean "until you get sick of each other", or "until one of you falls on hard times", or even "until someone more fun comes along", which is what it seems to mean today.

It started me thinking back, again, to that uncorrupted, very different time, when the world stretched for about a suburb and a half, and mum and dad were everywhere, filling that space, larger than life.

We're talking the 60s here, and not the London/New York/Paris swinging 60s, but backwater provincial Sydney 60s, when the place we lived was little more than a conservative, overgrown country town, and the breadwinner worked hard so his wife could stay home and do what wives did then, which was to raise children and provide domestic back-up that would, today, define 'anachronism'.

That was their life. Dad was, to use the yiddish term, "in the schmutter business", which meant he had a clothing factory. It was originally my grandfather's company, but the real drive behind it was dad. He worked hard, often leaving for work before I got up, but he was nearly always home in time for dinner, especially on Friday nights, which were designated 'family dinner' time. And you know, thinking back, I don't ever recall him having to work on a weekend. Not real work anyway. Occasionally, there was maintenance to do around the factory, but that was a family outing. No. Weekends were weekends.

Mum, on the other hand, had the three of us to contend with, and I'll tell you that this was no easy task. My brother, eight years older than me, tall and strong, and two years behind him, my sister, a rebel for as long as I can remember, and then me 6 years later and a good bit frailer than the other two, but smart to distraction and always wanting to know why.

Dad fought hard for our family and he was king. He ruled us with a velvet covered iron fist, which meant discipline was strict-ish, in that what dad said was the law. He was all puff, of course. I only ever recall him striking me once, and in retrospect, I think I might have deserved it. It didn’t matter. Dad was boss, and when he called, we jumped. ‘How high?’ was unnecessary. And mum was his policewoman, liberally interpreting that law and delivering on the whole domestic back-up thing. Mums the world over are always the soft touch.

Mum was a great cook too, by the standards of the day. Her chicken soup and meatloaf, recipes handed down from her mother, were legendary, and her corned beef, thick slabs of it… woo… talk about a reason to stay home for dinner. Then there was her piece de resistance, pavlova, smothered in cream, banana, strawberry and passionfruit. She was so good at whipping those up that she was often asked to make them for friends for special occasions.

I still recall one time when she made one of those... it was for one of her best friends, 12 eggs, maybe more. She left it on the dining room table and then came to pick me up from school. When we got home… gone… our magnificent Great Dane, Dean, had scoffed the lot. To this day, mum swears the dog must have learned how to open the door. That’s ok. Her pavlova was strong motivation and there was one very highly motivated (and now rather happy) dog.

And hard as I try to recall, through my childhood and teen years, I can not remember mum and dad having a real fight. Today, we're supposed to think that's unnatural. Then? I don't know.

They stuck together through some pretty tough times when recession hit too. Very tough, but when dad bounced back, mum was by his side, his new business partner. We'd all flown the coop by then, or maybe I was about to, and those 50s stay home wife values were starting look out of place. Mum would try to tell you it was a decision driven by economic necessity, but deep down, I’m sure she was pleased to be back at work.

Now don’t get me wrong. This wasn’t domestic paradise modeled on the Dick van Dyke Show, and growing up was full of those tired wife/husband/life sentence type jokes that might raise an eyebrow or two these days. Times have changed.

So what is it that keeps people together for 58 years? Here’s what I came up with…

• Those different values helped.
• They had mountains of great friends and a social life that seems, at least in my memory, to have been way too social to be real.
• They were both really active in the community, dad with the Lions Club and mum with the NCJW (when she had time).
• They did stuff on their own. Dad played golf. Mum, tennis with the girls, cards… the usual stereotypical stuff. That time to do your own thing is so important.
• They did family stuff together. We were always going on picnics, outings, excursions and trips somewhere and if it made life interesting for me, it must have made it interesting for them too.
• They made sure they had their own time together. We were always being palmed off to grandparents so the two of them could have time away from us.
• They were a team.

And I really do think they love each other though as they have grown older, they do allow themselves to indulge in occasional petty bickering. That’s ok. After 58 years, they’ve earned the right to indulge in whatever they want.

How Dumb Do They Think We Are?

Or maybe that headline should ask "How Dumb Are We"?

I was indulging in my morning read-the-Herald-on-line ritual yesterday and was distracted by a flashing ad for Dell. It said something like "Super Dooper Deal On Dell Custom Built Computers - Hurry, Offer Strictly Limited". Of course, they weren't the exact words. I'm sure Dell's copy writers are more sophisticated than that but you get the gist.

Hurry? Why? You've ALWAYS got a super dooper deal running. Ok, it might not be THIS deal, but it will be another deal and frankly, there's only a limited combination of deals you can offer that involve upggrading memory, hard drive, DVD player or flat screen.

Strictly Limited? Oh please... I think you mean strictly limited to anyone who lives on Planet Earth, don't you?

Custom Built? Oh... ok... so I'm going to place an order, and someone in China is going to read my order and personally assemble my machine for me? For me! Yeah. Right. And I suppose that after that, they'll get in a cab, head for Shanghai Airport, get on a plane with it, and personally deliver it to my door. All for $699 with the bonus 17" flat screen monitor and Blue-Ray upgrade.

I have nothing against Dell. It's just another company making computers. Actually, I think the computer we bought dad for his 80th last year was a Dell, and it's been fine.

I'm starting to grow weary of tired marketing though, and especially of advertising that shouts at you about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that would really only be true if you were a fruit fly.

TV here used to be filled up with ads for one or other Persian Rug seller "CLOSING DOWN - ALL STOCK MUST GO", and the ad would run for months and in one case, years.

Car dealers are notorious for this stuff... "THIS WEEKEND ONLY. FREE AIR". Yeah. And when I turn up to the dealership next week with cash in my hand, you're going to tell me I can't have the free air because that sale was last week. Look bozo. The air conditioning comes with the car. It's already there. Stop trying to make a big deal out of giving me something for free that comes as standard anyway.

Or what about the ads that say "Sale Ends Tuesday" which should really say "And starts up again in two weeks time". (Actually, it should really say "Sale Ends ON Tuesday", but that's a blog for another time.)

Sadly, the answer to the question, though, must be "Very", because they keep trotting these offers out as though there's someone left who actually believes they're special...
...and we keep falling for them.

What Can You Believe II

I'll bet you've switched to Low Fat milk. I'll double up by betting that you switched because you thought it would be healthier and "less fattening"... and something called "Trim" that's still milk seemed like a great alternative.

Wrong. Go HERE to read that "Full-fat dairy products have a more slimming effect than low-fat foods".

And I promise this will be the last health rant.

People Who Drive White Cars

I think I must have taken a grumpy pill this morning, and I don't care if I get accused of being carist. The fact is, some drivers suck.

Survival on the roads relies on one's ability to form an almost instant stereotype view of other drivers according the the make or colour of car they're driving. Here's a little list, not complete, so add to it at your leasure...

White Cars
What is it with people who drive white cars? Why are they always doing 20kmh less than the speed limit? Why are they oblivious? I really don't know the answer. I just know that people who drive white cars are really really bad drivers.

BMWs
Arseholes. The lot of them. Arrogant and pushy in that childish nouveau riche "look at me, look at me" sort of way.

Ferrari Drivers
The universal law of inverse proportionality applies here... and those Ferraris seem to have very big exhaust pipes.

Taxi Drivers
Oblivious, and they own the road. Oh? They Don't? Really?

Greenies Driving Really Old Cars
Saving the environment, apparently, means keeping your old car until it disintegrates around you. It's belching acrid smoke, burning twice the fuel as something with a little more technology under the bonnet (hood) and dropping oil all over the road that, the next time it rains, finds its way into the eco-system you're trying so hard to protect. Doesn't matter. You're making a stand against the evil, wasteful consumerist world we live in.

Volvo Drivers
What more can I say. The stylist might have moved in since Ford bought the place, but a Volvo driver is still a Volvo driver.

Old Men In Hats
Is driving so much more confusing now than it was back when radial tyres were still on the drawing board at Goodyear? Or is it just that, as soon as you put a hat on INSIDE the car, it somehow has the same effect as putting a phone up to your ear?

Young Chicks With Mobile Phones
Here in Oz, it's illegal to use your mobile phone while driving (unless you've got the hands free thingmy). That doesn't stop pretentious 19 year old femmes in their little Mazda 3s that daddy gave them for finishing high school. Talk, text, drive fast, change lanes, talk some more. They're proof that natural selection doesn't work. Stuck up little bitches.

Idiots Who Panic In Tunnels
A few years back, someone in Sydney decided that we should put our freeway system underground (and then charge a toll so that it's not free). Come on people... the speed limit in here is 80... can you give me any reason why you're only doing 50? At this speed, by the time we get to the other end, I'll have died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

People With "Magic Happens" Stickers
The only magic likely to happen around this lot involves the piece of crap they're driving actually making it safely to wherever they're going.

People With Ixtheus Stickers
If you keep driving like that, He's not going to save you, and while you're keen to meet Him really soon, some of the rest of us aren't so sure.

The Best
By the way, the best drivers in the world are in LA. You have to be good when you're heading South in the HOV lane on the 405 at around 6 on a Friday night at 70mph, and you're off at the next exit. Those 6 lanes of traffic you have to cross make life worth living. For readers unfamiliar with LA, they used to have a "High Occupancy Vehicle Lane" (I think it's gone now... maybe someone there can tell me). "High Occupancy" = Driver +1, and I'm sure that on the Hollywood Freeway, your dog counts.

The Worst
The worst drivers in the world are in Manilla. NFI. Nothing more to add.

Here?
Sydney drivers aren't bad... actually, they're pretty good. They have to be to navigate their way through the mess we call a road system. I know there's a piece of cheese at the end of the maze somewhere, and one day I'll find it.

Perth drivers, though, seem to think lane choice is a life commitment. Changing lanes isn't in the driving paradigm. You're just going to have to wait until the driver returns to his parked car. Sometimes, Perth drivers have been known to wait days.

Just What Can You Believe Anymore?

I try and keep business stuff out of this blog because

1. it's largely boring unless, like me, you like learning about science stuff,
2. if there's any danger it could be interpreted as an ad for one of my companies, that's not proper etiquette, and
3. we have such stupid regulations in this country that I can get into trouble saying stuff here about something we sell because there's a link to my company on this page.

Today, though, I'm going to make an exception, and try to expose a few "lies-held-as-truths" that might just save your life.

Cholesterol.

The Lie is that if you have "elevated cholesterol" you have to do something about it and that something usually involves a drug called a statin.

The Truth is that there's virtually no difference in mortality between people with 'high' cholesterol and people with 'normal' cholesterol. (Curiously, people with 'low' cholesterol have a slightly higher mortality rate.) There's also virtually no difference in mortality between people on statin drugs, and people not on statin drugs, even though there seems to be an imperative to hand a prescription over to anyone with even slightly elevated cholesterol.

In addition, while those statin drugs are effective at lowering your cholesterol, they're also extremely effective at lowering your body's production of something called CoEnzyme Q10. This enzyme is so essential to body function that if your heart runs out, it will stop, which explains why the exception to the 'no difference' above is that if you're on a statin drug, you're 4 times more likely to die of congestive heart failure than if your're not. Watch this space... people who know more about this than I do are predicting that the legal fall-out for this is going to make the whole Vioxx thing look like a day at the zoo.

So why, as a society, are we obsessed about cholesterol? Easy... it's about money. Here in Australia, statin drugs account for 52% of all of the money our over-generous government spends subsidising prescription medicines. Worldwide, we're talking about a drug that generates billions of dollars in sales.

Cholesterol is a symptom of other things. The other things can be bad, so when your cholesterol tests as 'high', look for the other things. If your doctor just wants to put you on a statin drug, go and find another doctor because the one you've got is killing you.

Slip, Slop, Slap

That's the slogan the Cancer Council in Australia uses to get us to slip on a shirt, slop on some sunscreen and slap on a hat. It's supposed to lower skin cancer rates by 'protecting' us from 'harmful' UV rays, right?

The Lie is that those UV rays are killing us.

The Truth is that more than 70% of us are now chronically Vitamin D deficient. Vitamin D is produced in your skin by photosynthesis... that is, it's produced when you go out in the sun, into those UV rays.

Vitamin D deficiency has been linked to at least 16 cancers, all of which have increased in incidence over the last 15 years or so because we've been doing what we've been told. And the incidence of skin cancer here in Australia, where we have the highest rate in the world? HASN'T CHANGED!

There are two reasons...

First, sunscreen is effective, ONLY if you don't rub it in. As soon as you rub it in, whoosh... blocking ability gone for the spectrum of UV that causes melanoma. However, the spectrum that causes your skin to go red, which is your body's warning to get out of the sun, is very nicely blocked so we think we can stay in the sun longer.

And second, Vitamin D also helps protect you against melanoma. It's made by the same spectrum that makes you go red.

So why do governments all over the world persist with this? Money. There's a very rich and powerful lobby making sunscreens and anti-cancer drugs, and getting grants from governments and even the UN, to run ad campaigns telling us to Slip, Slop, Slap.

Is it ok, then to go back to the beach and go sunbaking all day? No. Absolutely not. We're past that tanned 80's look now aren't we? But to cover up and use a powerful sunblock every time you're outside... you're killing yourself.

"Diet" Soft Drinks

The Lie is in the name... "Diet". We're all supposed to cut down on our sugar intake, right? That much I agree with. But those "Sugar Free" diet soft drinks are NOT the answer.

The Truth is that as bad as a can of sugar-filled soda is, it's still better for you than it's sugar free version, which is sweetened with something called "Aspartame". At last count, there were some 90+ dangerous health consequences DIRECTLY linked to Aspartame from brain tumours and MS to chronic fatigue syndrome, depression and poor memory.

And if you want to know which lame idiot in the government approved it as an artificial sweetener in human food, then blame Donald Rumsfeld, who was then CEO of the company that makes it, and in classic Rumsfeld style, pulled off one of the grandest con jobs over the US congress in history. It's a long story for another time, but if you're interested, go HERE and order yourself a copy of a DVD called "Sweet Misery".

Why? Money again, and the cynic in me is starting to believe agencies like the FDA in the US, and the TGA here in Australia, are captives of Big Pharma... and the only winner from Aspartame is the pharmaceutical industry which gets to sell you lots more drugs to make you better from the side effects of Aspartame.

There's so much more about Aspartame, but I'm ranting and you're already bored, so I'll let you find it for yourself.

Sugar Is Bad

The other related Lie is that sugar is bad for you. Agreed, excess sugar is bad, but in a study released a few months back, researchers took a group of obese women and put them on calorie restricted diets to lose weight. They divided them into 2 groups, one where sugar was totally removed from their diet, and the other, where a small amount of sugar was allowed. Calorie restriction = weight loss, or at least it should. One of the two groups lost weight during the trial, and the other didn't. No prizes for guessing that it was the group which was allowed sugar that actually lost weight. When deprived of sugar, your body switches your metabolism into famine mode, in which it upregulates the processing of the food you put in, and takes every opportunity it can get to store away any unused calories as fat. And once you're in famine mode, it's extremely difficult to switch back irrespective of the size of the feast at the buffet.

Incidentally, if you're in the USA, those sugar sodas are not actually sweetened with sugar, they're sweetened with High Fructose Corn Syrup, which is cheaper than sugar, but which is also linked to a raft of health problems including your obesity epedemic. Thankfully, the rest of the developed world hasn't been as accepting of the safety data, so it's banned in Australia, Canada, Europe and most of the other places that matter.

Fat On The Lips = Fat On The Hips

The Lie is that eating fatty foods will make you fat. For girls especially, this seems to be accepted as holy truth.

Let me say this in the strongest terms I can use without incurring the wrath of censors in Singapore... There is NO relationship between the fat you eat and the fat you are!

Eating ONLY fatty food will make you fat, and it will probably make you dead, but the Truth is that fat is essential to your health and well being. In what seems like a paradox, some fats, like CLA and Omega 3, are actually imperative for good health, and for anyone trying to control their weight.

Yet as a society, we're pre-occupied with "Fat Free". I was in our local supermarket this morning and noticed a bag of lollies ('candy' for you Americans and Canadians). Emblazoned across the front was "99% Fat Free", as if that somehow made it ok.

That Fat Free mentality was at its height in the 80's, and doctors like the good Dr J are just now starting to see the long term damage caused in people who followed a fat free diet.

Therein endeth my rant, though if any of this has interested you, go HERE to read a very tongue-in-cheek article about the US FDA banning Vitamin D.

And if you're interested in evil pharma, ask me to tell you the story of a herpes drug you'll never get to see called 'Amexcin'.

Way Too Much TV

Dreams. No... not the "I want to be an Astronaut when I grow up" type dreams, or even the "I wish the world was more like Star Trek" type dreams. I'm talking about the "images that flash through your head while you're asleep" type dreams. We all have them. Every night, apparently. (Unless you rely on Rohypnol, which I'm told knocks you out so deeply you don't.)

Mostly, our dreams are just disconnected images, over-interpreted to bring order to the chaos.

Occasionally, there is order in there and we can wake up remembering a dream so vividly that it was hard to know whether it really happened or not... and then a few hours later... nothing... just a faint memory that there was a something... you can't recall what... "and yet it seemed like I was there".

Very occasionally, there are dreams that stay with us for ever. You know what I mean, when the line between dream and reality is so blurred in your brain that you'll never really know which was which.

There's the implausible too... I still recall one I had when I was too young to remember much else. I think I must have been 6 or 7, and if I created the scene on film, you'd think fire and brimstone Hell. I can still smell the smoke even now, forty plus years later. And I can still feel the giant trilobites eating my ankle. I remember waking from that dream and going to my wardrobe to get my dressing gown. All would have been fine if it hadn't been for the slipper overhanging the edge. The scream was so loud as it brushed the front of my ankle, and it was at that moment that I "knew" those trilobites had been real.

I've always been a vivid dreamer, and for most of my adult life the dreams have been so real, so coherent, that occasionally they'd have end credits. I'm not kidding. Some of the best films I've ever seen were dreams, complete with titles, characters, dialogue, plot, sub plot, special effects and, at the very end, credits.

Some of the music has been sublime too... try Trumpet Voluntary played two or three octaves lower on a concert hall organ with full orchestral backing. (When I've got far too much money I'll pay someone to do that... it was so beautiful I woke up sobbing.)

And I'd pay just about anything for a ticket to see one particular dream again. It was stunning, and for days, I couldn't stop talking about it. I might tell you about it one day, though like all really personal experiences, it is bound to lose something in translation.

Very occasionally, my dreams come true too. If I ever I tell you "I had the weirdest dream last night", pay attention, because track record would suggest that sometime in the future...

Ah... how I long for the good old days of great dreams... because lately...

Stargate (copyright MGM) has featured prominently in The Bear's dreams

Readers, I like Stargate. I've always been a sci-fi nut, but if I have another all night Stargate dream...

Seriously. Every night for the last week... bloody Stargate. Sensational movie length episodes, by the way... I hope the writers are telepathic because some of those stories were fab... great dialogue too... but they go on ALL night. All friggin' night! I wake up exhausted from fighting Wraith, Goa'uld or Ori, or stretching the brain into implausible science to find a technological solution to the problem/puzzle of the day. This morning, I even woke up "knowing" how the damned thing works. It had all been figured out in an especially long episode about... oh bloody hell... GO AWAY... I need to get some sleep here.

And a couple of weeks ago, I played out the entire Season 7 of Hogan's Heroes... which is a good trick, because the show only ran for 6.

Oh please. Brain, haven't you got better things to do while I'm asleep?

I want my old dreams back. The original screenplays. The coherent and intelligent plots, the stunning special effects, the profound and sometimes faintly disturbing glimpses into my future... where did those dreams go?

I don't know what drugs I need to be taking to get them back, but I am smart enough to know that if I want to watch re-runs of 60's sit-coms I should just get up and switch on TV1.

Perhaps I just watch way too much TV.