Absent Bear

It's ocurred to me this evening that I've been a little slack, not just with my own ramblings, but also in my less than frequent visits to some of my favourite blogs.

I'm sorry. Really. I've just been... um... what's the word... oh, yes... "busy".

Ok. I know it's a lame excuse. "If something's important, you make time for it", my dad used to say. But I really have been busy.

Take yesterday as an example. I had to create a colour 3D rendering of our new little project for the mall managers. To do that, I had to download Google SketchUp, learn how to use it, then trawl through the Google on-line 3D model bank to see if I could find models of the various bits and pieces we want to put in the space. It took much of the day, or at least what was left of the day after a meeting (actually, a long lunch) with a great mate and lawyer extraordinaire to talk about that impending legal problem we'll have once we open.

Before all of that, I needed to translate what the bureaucracy said about cows into something one of our suppliers could understand, and then fax it off to him because him email was down. Yes. Cows. If you're a regular reader, you'll know what I mean. If not... sorry... I'll explain some other time.

Translating bureaucratese takes time... and then one has to check it... carefully... because if one leaves out the bit about Jembrana, which would be understandable because there is no Jembrana where my supplier is, the result can be very expensive.

It was also my turn to cook, and I needed a crusade to find the bocconcini I'd use for the salad (it was too bloody hot for real food).

And in between hunting and slicing/dicing, his royal highness, Zac the first, needed his six o'clock trip to the local park... which is where the day really got interesting...

...because at some point, when I wasn't watching and he wasn't charging around like the posessed with the dozen or so canine friends who gather on the green each afternoon, he ate something. I have no idea what, but within two hours, he was lying in his water bowl, drinking the thing dry, after which, he promptly staggered into the loungeroom, vomited, then fell down. The drive to the local emergency veterinary hospital involved some fancy low flying, the outcome of which was that the poor little thing spent the night with drip in leg trying to flush the toxin/poison out of his system. Don't fret. He's fine today... and well on the road to full recovery. The point is, the episode stole another three hours out of my day. (Not that I wouldn't do it again in a heartbeat, but I had things worked out for those three hours and those things didn't involve sitting at a hospital, veterinary or otherwise.)

I could also have done without Mini hobbling around with a sore front paw all day too, because it also takes time to catch the little darling, hold her down, and perform my Dolittle impersonation while rubbing said paw. "Is this where it hurts little girl? Don't worry, it's not broken", which is, of course, met with that vacant "yeah, whatever, where's my food" stare that cat owners know so well.

I'm not complaining, though All I'm saying is "sorry, but I've been a little busy". I'll make more of an effort after I get this week out of the way. I promise.

Intelligent Life

Thanks Ms Mouse for reminding of the brilliance and creativity of The Meaning of Life.

So Accurate It's Creepy

Thanks to Mouse and CAW for this "Which Tarot Card Am I" thing. For what it's worth...

I Am The Fool

The Fool is the card of infinite possibilities. The bag on the staff indicates that he has all he need to do or be anything he wants, he has only to stop and unpack. He is on his way to a brand new beginning. But the card carries a little bark of warning as well. Stop daydreaming and fantasising and watch your step, lest you fall and end up looking the fool.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

So accurate it's creepy.

Those Pesky Squirrels

Screen Genius

Have you ever watched a movie the first time and thought "what the fuck is going on?" And by the time you reach the end, you're hooked... so hooked that you watch again and again.

Pulp Fiction jumps into my head... but the only reason you might have felt that way is because it started in the middle.

This week, I took in "The Wrong Man" (released as "Lucky Number Slevin" in the US and elsewhere).

It's brilliant. Ben Kingsley, Morgan Freeman, Josh Hartnett, Lucy Liu and Bruce Willis make Jason Smilovic's stunning script lift off the screen. But it's Paul McGuigan's direction that smacks you between the eyes. It's fast, beautifully conceived and amazingly executed. (Sorry, I ran out of really cool superlatives.)

Watch the sets. Wow. The editing. Wow. The cinematography. Wow.

I'm not going to spoil it for you. All I'll say is that it's a gang war and Hartnett's character is caught in the middle... the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.. and that's somewhere someone with ataraxia doesn't want to be.

And after you've watched it, watch it again.

Another Scary Recruit Movie

While we're talking movies, I sat through the latest Kevin Costner stinker, The Guardian.

It's truly awful. Formula cinema at its worst... tedious, predictable, boring. If you haven't seen it and don't want to know what you're in for then warning... spoiler coming... stop reading now.

This film is "Officer and a Gentleman" meets "Top Gun" meets "GI Jane".
It's got all the elements...
The military style boot camp
The unreasonably tough sergeant
The recruits, each with some quirky personality disorder
The "you're in or you're out" challenges

Costner is a US Coast Guard "rescue swimmer", the most decorated of all time. He's the guy who jumps out of the helicopter to save you when you're boat's sinking. A real American hero... except that there's this accident and the rest of his helicopter crew, including his best friend, are killed... best friend dying in his arms, of course.

Now I probably don't need to point out that you shouldn't get Costner's performance confused with anything remotely associated with acting. It's more closely associated with a more honest industry... lumber.

So you're getting the picture, right? Rescue goes wrong... CO decides Costner needs some time to get his head back together again, and sends him to the Coast Guard's training facility as a guest instructor, where he vents his torment on poor, unsuspecting recruits. The focus of most of his nastiness is a recruit named Fischer, played by Ashton Kutcher, who was a high school swim champ with "a troubled past".

But wait, there's more. Add the marriage break down between Costner and his wife, played by Sela Ward. You'll remember her as Gregory House's ex. Costner's really married to the job, not the wife, which is very dumb 'cause Sela's one fine looking woman.

There's the obligatory bar scene, where the other recruits bet hero-in-waiting Fischer a hundred bucks that he can't pick up some chick at the bar. He does, of course, because said chick offers to pretend if he'll split the hundred with her. Of course, they end up having a "casual fling", because she knows he's a recruit blah blah blah. It is remarkable, though, how much Melissa Sagemiller looks like a young Sela Ward in this movie. Really. It's almost insulting.

Anyway... there's the other obligatory bar scene too, where the USCG recruits go to a "Navy" bar and get into a CG v Navy fight, which means Fischer stands up said girlfriend who's waiting patiently in a swank restaurant up the road for their first real "date" (as opposed to their frequent casual bonking).

The recruits graduate, of course, and Fischer is sent to the Kodiak Alaska Coast Guard Station, which just happens to be the home base of, yes, you guessed it, Costner, who, after his stint as instructor, is now ready to leap back into the ocean.

And at the end, Fischer goes back to the primary school where casual girlfriend's a teacher (oh, now wasn't that predictable) and says "I don't do casual", after which they kiss passionately in front of a class full of 7 year olds. This is after Costner dies, sacrificing himself for the life of his younger protege during a daring rescue where the USCG's inferior equipment breaks, again.

Oh please. Pass me the bucket.

Frankly, I didn't know the script writers' strike had been going on for that long, because it's a certainty that no professional script writer was involved in this movie.

Casino Bland

I've had an opportunity, over the last week or so, to catch up on a couple of movies that I missed during cinema release.

Without doubt, the most disappointing of these was Casino Royale, the James Bond flick starring new Bond, Daniel Craig.

Disappointing? Yeah. That's the right word.

It was very different to Bonds of old. More gritty, more realistic, though referring to the concept of "realism" when talking about a Bond movie ought to tell you everything you need to know.

The first thing you'll notice is that it doesn't start with the trademark Bond theme. What good is a Bond movie without that music? It sets the tone and the anticipation... I don't know... perhaps they didn't want to set the audience up for disappointment. (They do use it over the end credits, but that's too late.)

Daniel Craig as Bond is far too flawed. He's moody, ponderous and fallible. Yes, he's got a finely chiseled body, but he introduces us to a weaker, more vulnerable Bond. Ian Flemming will be spinning so hard in his grave that it's effecting the earth's orbit around the sun.

Of course, Craig's just an actor who's controlled by a script writer and a director, neither of whom seemed to understand what or who Bond is supposed to represent. There was no humour. No witty one liners, no improbable near superhuman heroics, just a the grinding tedium of the chase, followed by the even greater tedium of No Limit Hold'em.

The one thing that sets Bond apart from, say, Bourne, is the inevitable audience groan as our hero achieves the impossible. In Casino Royale, that was missing.

And it's impossible to watch a Bond movie and not imagine how the "other" Bonds might have done it. Connery would have been way cooler, and way more talkative at the table. Moore would have been far less athletic, but somehow more on top of who was who in the zoo. And Brosnan... I know he'd have found some drop sheet and sticks to whip up an improvised parachute to get down from that building.

It's summed up towards the end of the movie when a bartender asks Bond if he'd like his martini shaken or stirred and Bond replies "do I look like I give a damn?" Of course you do James, "shaken, not stirred" is your trademark.

I read somewhere that Director Martin Campbell wanted to give the franchise a makeover, bringing it into the 21st century. In doing so, he lost the cartoonish larger-than-life atmosphere that's made Bond Bond. If this had been the first James Bond movie, I actually doubt whether there'd have been any more.

Casino Royale was just bland. Very disappointing.

Truth or Lie

What do you believe?

No. Not in any God v Allah v Budda v Ganesh v Thor sense. What I mean is, how much do you believe what you're told about the world around you?

Seriously. Put your tin foil hat on and think for a minute. You watch the news. Is any of it real? Really? How would you know?

Take the story of the day today here in Oz, about some 16 year old who threw a wild open house party while his parents were away. Was it real? Was it a carefully fabricated stunt, or was the whole thing a hoax of some sort. Whatever, it certainly was a media frenzy. Naked or semi naked boy running down street (note how well chiselled his body is). Parents conveniently away. Interviews with brat showing no respect. Broken bottles in gutter. Really... just a bit too well crafted to be real. A sort of new version of "if it seems too good to be true, it usually is". (Please, no comments on this kid. I merely use the story as an example.)

I watched the news footage and listed to the seemingly endless debate on talk radio and my instinct tells me it's not real. But how would I know.

Or what about "Psychic Detectives" on the Bio channel. Each day, we're subjected to well constructed and carefully laid out stories about psychics who help the police. There are interviews with the psychics, shots of quaint small American towns and even interviews with people who may or may not be police. Have you noticed that it's always some backwater? It's never the NYPD that gets led to the scene of the crime by a psychic. It's always a town that no-one's ever heard of. Is it real, or is it fabricated?

Even more dangerous... just about anything on the Crime Channel. Just think of the job they did on Arnie in the opening few minutes of Running Man... this is standard Crime Channel fare, presented and accepted as fact when I have no way of really knowing one way or the other.

I'm tired, and beyond caring, because I really don't trust anything I see on TV any more. Could be real. Could be a total fabrication. I just have no way of knowing.

Is it just me?

Define "Operation" For Me

I need your help in my ongoing fight against the bureaucracy.

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that Dr J and I had tripped over a great business opportunity at the World Congress on Anti Aging Medicine in Las Vegas.

That opportunity is a teeth whitening system that works in just 15 minutes with no pain, no sleeping overnight with some mouthguard in, and no visit to the dentist where he charges you enough to put his kids through school. The technology is stunning, it's safe, it's real, and it works... all for A$149. Now before we get into some protracted debate about the relative merits of a whiter smile, just remember that there's a mountain of research out there about how the "whiteness" of a person's smile has a direct impact of how other people treat them, what job they can get, what life partner they get, and even their chance of getting laid next Saturday night.

The problem is, this new whitening technology pisses dentists off. Why? Because they charge around A$900 for a treatment that takes an hour and a half, uses toxic chemicals, and can hurt like hell.

Dental Registration Boards all around the world are getting hot and bothered about this new technology, claiming that "only dentists are permitted to do tooth whitening". So far, their collective assertions haven't been tested in any court, but whenever a Dental Board in the USA, Canada, the UK, Oz, or just about anywhere else worth living finds a non-dentist offering teeth whitening, they send in some bully to bang his shoe, shout a lot, and generally act intimidating.

Here in New South Wales, we're aware of at least 4 occasions where the Dental Board sent in the bully. To do that, they are relying on a clause of The Public Health Act which says only a properly registered Dentist may perform a "Restricted Dental Practice". The Act defines Restricted Dental Practice as the performance of any operation on the human teeth or jaws or associated structures.

I need your help because legal advice tells us that we will win or lose a fight with the Dental Board based on how the court defines that clause, and in particular, the word "operation". Would it be the broadest definition possible, or would it be the more narrow medical definition?

Here's my question to you...
How would you define "performance of any operation on the human teeth"?

Forget about what our product might or might not do or how it might or might not work... just think of the phrase within the context of the Public Health Act. And no, you don't need to be a lawyer to give me your opinion... any opinion will count and there are no right or wrong answers. Pretend, if you like, that you are the Court in the case of the Dental Board V. Chester T Bear.

This is serious, because as you know, I hate bureaucrats, and I never back down to bullies. However, if we go ahead with this project and lose, The Bear could be writing his blog from behind the razor wire topped walls of Silverwater Jail.

Who Believes This Crap II

Have I told you how much I hate spam? No, not the luncheon meat... the email type spam... though, come to think of it, the edible spam wouldn't rate highly on my list either.

My server's getting bombarded with so much spam that the spam filter is crashing. It's so bad that I might as well not have email at all because the server is taking longer than the post office to deliver a note.

It's going to cost us hundreds, and perhaps even thousands of dollars to fix... upgraded memory... a more robust spam filter... and other stuff that ought to be unnecessary if it wasn't for some little prick in China, India or Russia trying to make my penis bigger, improve my sex life, offer me a 'perfect' Rolex copy, steal my money, or sell me a 22 year old white slave.

In fact, I think I hate spammers nearly as much as I hate bureaucrats.

And who believes the crap they send anyway? Come on... one of you must believe it... really... do the right thing... fess up and take it like a man (or woman).

Seriously.

You have to presume that the shithead sending the spam wouldn't do it unless someone... anyone... responded. Some people (or person) must read the spam and think to themselves "oh, yes... i think I really need to make my penis bigger so I'm going to buy these pills from someone I don't know, without knowing what's in them, and I'll watch the ole fella grow before my eyes". They must. because if they didn't, why would the spammers bother?

And what about this gem... it arrived tonight...

Your credit doesn't matter to us!
If you have your own business and require IMMEDIATE ready money to spend ANY way you like or require Extra money to give your company a boost or wish A low interest loan - NO STRINGS ATTACHED, here is the deal we can offer you THIS EVENING (hurry, this tender will expire THIS NIGHT):
$28,000+ loan
Hurry, when our best deal is gone, it is gone. Simply finish this quick form...
Do not worry about approval, your credit will not disqualify you!

And it gave an email address in China. Yeah. Right. Like some backyard Chinese operation is going to lend li'l ole me twenty eight grand without security.

Wake up people. Spam is bad. Spammers are bad. And if you buy something from a spammer, you're not just bad... and this is way more important... you're also an idiot.

HDTV

Here's an Israeli ad for HDTV.



And yes. The jingle is in English. Listen carefully.

Dashboard Jesus

For reasons I might explain some other time, I've been spending a little time on eBay this week, which is where I found "Dashboard Jesus", or, more correctly, "Jesus Dashboard car monitor bobble wobble head ornament".

The seller's copy sums it up...

As featured in that Womans magazine which then sold it out
He is back is a Vengeance
The sign of cool
Dashboard Jesus
Let’s hear it for the holly spirit
Feel the power
The holly helper to take you through traffic jams and anywhere the windy road of life takes you.
Enlightenment on a spring
Take on all other spring loaded deities including Elvis, The Dali Lama, Buddha and Surfer bob
No one dances better than Jesus himself

"Holly Spirit". I knew Christmas had something to do with Jesus.
See it for yourself here.

By the way, incase you're thinking "wow, does this bear know how to waste time", apart from you being right, I was actually searching for this...
... which isn't on eBay here yet.

What is it? It's a "head mounted display", or HMD, and until now the resolution on these things has been really crappy. This new model is, however, a full 800 x 600 high resolution monitor that you wear on your head. It's like sitting in front of a 2000 cm screen, floating about 3m in front of your eyes. Watch TV. Work a giant spreadsheet. Edit graphics. Woo!

I don't really WANT these. I NEED these, and if you give me long enough, I'm sure I can come up with a great reason why.

The Bear Is Back In Town

Ok. Enough vacation. Bear is back!

First, the insincere formalities... Happy New Year to everyone, and I trust the Fat Man in the Red Suit was good to you all.

That done, for those readers remotely interested in my trip, here's a quick summary...

Day 1
Flew to LA via Papeete with Air Tahiti Nui. Food was great. Seat was broken. In flight entertainment system was also broken. Ah well. needed to sleep anyway.

Day 1 (reloaded)
It's one of the curious things about flying from West to East across the Pacific. You actually arrive before you've left. Don't ask me how it works... the whole thing makes my head hurt.
Picked up car, drove to Long Beach, checked in, then set off on a quest for a phone sim-card.
It's one of the other curious things about traveling... the Global Roaming feature on your phone costs way way way more than having the call redirected to a local cell phone. Ended up doing a tour of the Queen Mary, led by this curious man who must have thought we were all 10 year olds. It's impossible to describe his performance in a blog... I guess you had to be there.

Day 2
Drove to Newport Beach and did the little boat tour around the harbour, mostly staring at homes owned by people with way too much money. Lucky them. Perhaps one day soon, I'll have too much money too.

Day 3
Drove from LA to Vegas, via somewhere that looked like it could have been the surface of Mars. Don't recall the sudden acceleration of lift-off though, so we must have still been on earth. Stopped at a couple of outlet malls on the way, and paid US$49 for a pair of Rockport walking shoes... these really are most comfortable shoes I've ever owned. (RRP in Oz... A$229... woo hoo).
Met CAW for dinner, did the 'tourist on the strip' thing outside the Belagio fountain etc etc.

Day 4
Spent the day with CAW, the three of us wandering around Vegas looking suspiciously like foreign tourists. Picked up tickets to a dog act... no... the act wasn't a dog... the act contained dogs doing tricks... all rescue dogs too. Got called up on stage, did a trick with a yo-yo and bread stick (me with bread stick, performer with yo-yo). Was given free tickets to a midget (sorry... little people) show that night for my trouble.
The midget show was a hoot... little people impersonating big stars... got called up on stage (again). I think the magician liked me nearly as much as he liked his sequined jacket and matching shoes. Was given tickets to a hypnotist show that night for my trouble. Decided that track record of inclusion exposed me to some risk of further embarrassment, so gave the tickets to a curious couple from Sacramento who were sitting in front of us.

Day 5
Dr J went to an all day seminar thingmy, leaving CAW and me free to hit the roller coaster at New York New York. Have I ever mentioned how much I love Roller Coasters. The two of us criss crossed Sin City... bought a T-shirt at the Titanic exhibition, bought a T-shirt at Star Trek, and ended up having a drink and fries at Quarks.

Day 6
Ah well... it was a "business trip", so the morning was spent attending the opening addresses at the World Cognress on Antiaging Medicine.
Someone named Ron Paul gave the keynote address. I understand he's a presidential candidate. I'm sure he's a nice guy, and I'm sure he passionately believes whatever it is he believes, but until he stops rambling incoherently, he's not going to get far in the primaries.
Spent the afternoon with Dr J and CAW, wandering around the exhibition, which was a mix of snake oil and some "wow" stuff... there was a guy with a laser beam who fixed my banged up knee in about 3 minutes, and a company selling this diagnostic system that used "resonance radio frequencies" to decide what was wrong with you by detecting "Spikes" in your pulse as the thing cycled through a range of frequencies. Hmmmm... you know... I have a really open mind for this sort of stuff, but I'm afraid that one didn't grab my attention.
Wandered downstairs to the Rodeo show, which was a HUGE HUGE HUGE market, full of stuff cowboys might like. Unsurprisingly, didn't find anything I liked. Ah well.

Day 7
Said goodbye to CAW (shed a few tears), then went shopping with Dr J. By this time, the conference had become a little tedious.

Day 8
Last day of the conference. Dr J and I decided we'd better give the exhibition one last look, nearly won a Mini (which might have been difficult, though not impossible, to take home on the plane), and stumbled on a new business opportunity (that doesn't involve any of those awful multi level marketing companies). I might share it with you some other time.

Day 9
Drove back to LA via the plains of Mars and some more outlet malls. Went back to the previous outlet mall too, to get me another pair of them Rockports. Incredibly, the sales assistant remembered us, and extended the "2nd pair at half price" to include the pair I'd bought on the way up. Therefore, paid twenty four bucks for them (A$RRP = $229... now THAT'S shopping). Stopped at a curious "ghost town" called Calico. If I'd known it was owned by the folks who own Knotts Berry Farm, we might not have bothered.

Day 10
Flew to Tahiti. Different aeroplane, more great food and service, another broken seat, and another entertainment system that didn't quite work. Checked into hotel and found air conditioning not working. Got moved to another room. Air conditioning only marginally better, but at 2am, am way too tired to bother doing anything about it. Bags somewhere in the hotel, and the manager is confident they'll be found by morning.

Day 11
Jack hammers? No. That can't be right.
Look out Manager. There's nothing worse than a bear with a sore head. Got upgraded to a suite, and eventually got out bags. Took a bus into town, looked at the price of pearls, and immediately got back on the bus to the hotel.
Dinner. How much? $35. For a burger and fries? At a bistro. Really? Hmmm... how long can a human go without food? We decided not to risk it and ate something.

Day 12
Swam. Ate. Swam some more. Read. Read some more. Swam. Ate. Drank. Read. Swam. That pretty much sums it up.

Day 13
Took a 4 wheel drive tour across the middle of the island, through the volcano crater. Amazing. Might share some pics as soon as I can figure out how to download them from the camera.

Day 14
See day 12, then add swimming with stingrays in the lagoon. They're soft. No teeth, though my paw did get gummed. Dr J wondered why they don't make good handbags and shoes. Maybe they do.

Day 15
We have to be at the airport at what time? Oh my. And then the plane was running two hours late. Couldn't they have told us that at 4am?
Arrived back home the next day, though I'm sure we were only in the air a few hours. More of that head hurting time zone stuff. Oh... seat was working, and entertainment system worked. This time it was Dr J who had the broken stuff. Thought about offering to swap seats, but pretended to be asleep instead.

And that was the Bear's big adventure, more or less.