Oh Pewk! Bloody Al Gore Again?

This Bear is really starting to get worried about Global Warming. No, I'm not worried about carbon emissions, or heat sinks, or greenhouses. I'm worried about "Global Warming - The Issue".

This, people, is something spinning out of control, whipped up by ignorant journalists and opportunistic politicians, and backed by pseudo science of the very worst kind.

I've been saying for a while now that, even though we've treated our environment and resources with reckless disregard, and there is the strongest of arguments for changing our ways, this "Humans Did It" Global Warming thing is at best, total bullshit, and at worst, an attempt to manipulate and control us for some as yet unknown political end.

Today I discover that the ultra hypocrite and champion of inconvenient truths, Al Gore, has organised "Live Earth", 7 simultaneous rock concerts around the world to "raise the awareness of global warming". It's called 7/7/7 (that's the date), and a bunch of so-called celebrities get yet anotehr stage from which they can lecture us on something else they know little to nothing about. Maybe, if they really wanted to save energy and cut down on carbon emissions, they'd turn down the power on those amplifiers.

Sharp perspective time people...

FACT: The world's climate is NOT stable, has never been stable, and never will be stable. It gets hotter, it gets colder, it gets hotter again. Ice sheets form. Ice sheets melt. Ice sheets form again. Coral reefs grow. Coral reefs die. Oceans rise. Oceans fall. Boo bloody hoo... it's just part of a natural cycle.

FACT: Climate change has happened before, and it will happen long after humans are extinct fossil remains in the bedrock.

FACT: A miniscule immeasurable increase in solar radiation... that is... the heat from the sun... is going to do more to heat up the world than we ever could.

FACT: All of the other planets in the solar system are currently experiencing global warming. Um... wow... I didn't know we had the technology to get to any of them, let alone cause global warming on them. Maybe Star Trek really is a documentary.

FACT: The other major contributor to global warming is an accelleration of tectonic plate movement. A what? You know... I've talked about this before... the plates move apart at the bottoms of the oceans, spewing the molten innards of the earth out into the sea. Plates that, 20 years ago, were moving apart at a rate of 5cm a year are now moving at 15cm a year. Why? It's probably because in 1974, the earth's rotation got the wobbles. For 30 years before '74, the world was cooling down... so much so that scientists were warning of a coming catastrophic ice age. Since '74, we've been heating up again mostly thanks to a change in our aspect to the sun. Damn. That wasn't in Al's film... how did he miss that?

FACT: The total increase in carbon dioxide in the atmosphere in the last hundred years is measured in double digit parts per million... that is, an almost undetectable 50 or 60 parts per million. And, of course, there's still argument about this, because the measured increase might be partly, or even entirely due to an improvement in measuring technology.

FACT: And here's the bit Al Gore et al inconveniently ignore most... human CO2 output is a TINY fraction of the total CO2 output around the world. The vast majority of CO2 entering the atmosphere does so by "natural geological release", that is, it seeps out of rocks, or is released by seismic or volcanic activity. Humans and their CO2 emissions could vanish from this world, and the planet wouldn't notice.

Do you really want to know how much carbon dioxide we're pumping into the atmosphere? Ok... stick with me through some very scratchy arithmetic here... The total amount of carbon dioxide output by humans is around twenty five billion tonnes a year. Sounds like a lot, doesn't it? 25 with more zeros than Pearl Harbour. It's a bigger number than most of us can comprehend, but how much is that, really?

This might put it in perspective for you... a cubic metre of the stuff at 25degC at sea level weighs about one and a half kilos. Through the magic of some really shonky rough cut maths, I will tell you that if you scooped it all up and put it in one place, it would make make a cube of gas around 2.5km on all sides.

You think that sounds REALLY big, don't you? Actually, as a proportion of the total of the world, it's so tiny you'd have trouble seeing it from space without a good spy satellite. It would be a dot that wouldn't stretch from the The Sydney Harbour Bridge to Darling Harbour, or from Battery Park to the Statue of Liberty, or from St Pauls Cathedral to the Houses of Parliament. It isn't even three quarters of the length of the runway at LAX. To understand how staggeringly small this is, go to google earth, zoom in on any one of the landmarks I've just mentioned, and then zoom out again. You have to zoom out a long way before you can see the whole world.

Real scientists are speaking up though. Professor Ian Plimer is Dean of Geology at Adelaide University. He gave a lecture yesterday that wasn't widely reported, in which he described the total contribution of humans to global warming as "miniscule" and "insiginificant". Geologists have a much better handle on this whole thing than climatologists could ever have. That's because geologists have seen it all before, and Plimer added his considerable voice to the chorus of real, but largely ignored scientists who are challenging the merchants of panic by trying to bring some sense and science into the debate.

Just to finish off, here's some more useless information for you...
If you could gather all of the fossil fuels consumed in the world and dump them in one place, they would bury greater Los Angeles to a depth of about 70cm, or, in the old money, 27 inches. That sludge is barely over knee height for an average out-of-work actor, and there are many who might think that there is no more fitting a dump for this stuff than LA.

Ok... so we've got 27". Now I want you to put that in perspective... burn it. Go on. Imagine a huge fire covering all of Los Angeles (which, as you'll have seen from google earth, really is just a tiny dot on the globe). That's a 12,000sq km fire that has to burn through 70cm of fuel. And it has a whole year to do it. The 2003 Victorian bushfire consumed more than 56,000 sq km, four times the area of Los Angeles, and it did it in two months, consuming a fuel density far greater than 70cm.

Oh... and I nearly forgot to mention... wildfires in the USA burn an area slightly less than the size of Los Angeles every year, pumping... yes, you guessed it, nearly the same amount of CO2 into the atmosphere as all of the activities of human fossil fuel burning world wide. That's just fires in the USA. Bushfires in Australia consume around 5 times that each year, generating 5 times the amount of CO2 as the burning of fossil fuels. And I haven't even mentioned fires in Canada, Brazil, Indonesia, Malaysia, and everywhere else.

Finally, here's Al Gore's most inconvenient truth (and thanks to CAW for this)...
That 20 room mansion of his consumes 20 times more energy than the average American home. It's only 5 times larger than the average American home, but it's so poorly designed that it's an energy guzzler. "Do as I say", says Al, "not as I do."

Are you getting the picture yet?

Day Off

Bliss! I've just spent an entire day NOT working. No email. No internet. No reports. No sales. No work at all.

I didn't actually think it was possible and I really wasn't sure how I was going to get through the day but rescue came in the shape of Henry, Dr J's newphew and a pro golfer.

Henry's down in Sydney from his home in Brisneyland, lining up for a couple of minor tournaments in the next few days. As a part of his preparation, he took us out to the Castle Hill Country Club to scope out the course.

I'm no golfer, but it was interesting to spend a few hours out in the fresh air and sunshine with a pro, checking greens, fairways, hazards and treelines. Henry even has this very cool little range finder... just point it at the flag, press a button and it will tell you how far away it is, how many degrees elevation it is, and what that means to the distance of the shot. To explain... let's say the flag is 120 metres from the tee, but it's at a 5 degree down angle. That means it's a 110m shot away. For me, that's not going to make the slightest difference... the last time I played a round, the course marshall came up to me on the fourth hole and asked me if I was sure I had enough balls. (Bastard!)

I got to putt on some of Australia's best kept greens too, and I'll tell you, it's quite a bit different to trying to get the ball in the hole in the side of the Pyramid at King Tut's Mini Golf.

And I got to drive the golf cart, mostly because everyone thinks my Smart Car is just a cart on steroids anyway.

By the way... in his spare time, Henry's an amazing magician, AND the world master of trick shots (he holds world records for things like bouncing a ball off a club, and spinning a ball on a putter head). If you're interested, his website is HERE.

Say A Prayer For Sooty

I don't know if you believe in this sort of thing, but if you do, please say a prayer for Sooty, Dr J's wonderful cat and faithful companion for the last 17 and a half years.

We took Sooty to the vet this morning. He was having difficulty breathing, and I'm afraid the diagnosis couldn't have been worse. He has lung cancer, and may not last through the night. It's amazing that we've seen few symptoms until now, but that's how it is with cats, apparently. They're masters of masking, and just two days ago this guy was seemingly in perfect health.

He's back with Dr J now, trying to sleep at the end of her bed, but his breathing is laboured and the fire's gone out of his eyes. I suspect the Doc and I will spend the Easter long weekend remembering a wonderful friend, one who's stuck by her, who's been there for her, though the good times and the bad for more than half her adult life.

Fat Mouse, Thin Mouse

Our little pilot store and physical office are closed on Mondays, mainly because we run a mostly virtual company anyway, and the store's open the other six days of the week. That also means Monday is supposed to be my "day off", but I find myself sitting here at the office waiting for a delivery. Bloody tedious.

So I'm wrestling with being productive or not, and right now 'not' is winning so I thought I'd share this little piece of advice with you...

It's not so much what you eat that makes you fat, as when you eat it.

The basic proposition is that you can eat whatever you like during the daytime and not gain weight. It's got something to do with the way the body decides what to do with the food you eat.

People who need to get out more figured it out by looking at shift workers. That's because workers transferred to shiftwork inexplicably gain weight, even though neither the type, quality nor quanity of food they eat changes.

To test the proposition, a researcher in Japan ran an amazing experiment with little white mice.

He divided them into two groups, one fed during the day time, and the other fed at night. In every other respect, the mice were the same... the same activity level, the same amount of sleep, the same food, same little mouse exercise wheel... the only thing that was different was the time they ate.

And after just 3 days (not 30 days, or 3 weeks... THREE DAYS), he weighed the mice. The little daytime mice weighed in at a healthy 35g each. That's normal weight for these fellas. But the night fed mice weighed 40g each, an incredible 15% more than their day-fed cousins. In just 3 days.

Then they ran some blood tests and isolated a hormone that we all secrete at night that sends a signal to your body's insulin and fat receptors to tell them to store excess nutrients as fat (because without that message, those excess nutrients just get filtered back out of your system). When they switched that hormone off and repeated the experiment on a new batch of mice, there was no difference between them.

It makes some sense. In a time when food was not plentiful, there would be a real survival advantage for any animal that was able to store away whatever nutrients it hadn't used by the end of the day. That's great, unless you live in a rich western country like Australia, the USA, Canada or most of Europe where food is plentiful, cheap and easy to get.

So the moral of the story is... next time you head for the fridge at 2am, just remember where that slice of cold pizza’s going to end up.

Drugs

Anyone who reads these rants will know that I have adult ADD, which means that when it's really important, I have the attention span of a fly, and when it's not really important, I can get lost in whatever I'm doing at the exclusion of the really important things.

For example, I have a meeting at 10 tomorrow with some big name TV producer... an IMPORTANT meeting. It takes 20 minutes to drive from my place to my office. And I can guarantee that 25 minutes before the meeting, I'll decide that it's a great time to clean out the inbox on my home office PC, which is, of course, much more than a 5 minute job.

Now the rational part of my brain just beats me up and tells me I lack self discipline. The other parts of my brain gang up on it, and point out that as four doctors have now reached the same diagnosis, then that's an awful lot of medical school to contradict. The rational part of my brain is right, of course, but hey... this is the 21st century... a wonderous time when any notion of self responsibility is about as quaint as black and white TV.

So I get to blame ADD, and thanks to the miracles of modern diagnostic medicine, I have the brain scans and psych profile tests to back me up.

Adult ADD, of course, can be a great gift. We "see" stuff... usually the stuff happening in the background of life, while the things right in front of us sometimes pass quietly by. For example, if I met you at a party, I'll remember the watch you were wearing, and that you had a scar on your wrist, but I won't remember your name, no matter how much I enjoyed your company. It makes driving interesting too... I'm much more likely to notice the "We Close" sign on the door of the Chinese restaurant I just whizzed by, than I am to notice the red light ahead. And trust me... you don't want to accept my invitation to play "white horse" on a drive in the countryside, because even though I'm driving and you have much more time to look around and find white horses behind farm houses or at the back of some paddock somewhere, I WILL win, because my ADD guarantees that I'll spot that damned horse first.

It also confers boundless creativity, because the breadth of stuff that we do see means we're more likely to think outside that tired proverbial square.

The downside, though, is that I suck at personal organisation, and frequently forget even the most rudimentary things. It can get so bad that I'll spend 10 hours, like I did today, on some meaningless programming task, while there's a whole bunch of invoices that haven't been sent out.

In other words, if Rome was burning, I'd decide it was a good time to practice the violin.

Therefore, occasionally, I need to resort to some very cool and extremely hard-to-get drugs to centre me a little. So hard-to-get that the prescription needs to be signed off by some faceless bureaucrat in Canberra, just to make sure I'm not getting three prescriptions at once from three different psychiatrists. (Regular doctors like Dr J can't prescribe it, which is a bummer).

You see, Dexamphetamine has a very high street value, and I'm told that it can deliver quite a kick if one doesn't actually "need" it. I was "warned", when I got my hands on my first 'script, that a simple $20 bottle of pills has a street value of around $1500. Strange advice to give someone suffering from mental disease, but hey... at least I know I have a guaranteed alternative income source if the business ever falls down.

Sadly, I don't get the kick. For me, dex just creates clarity. I'm told it does that by simultaneously speeding up one part of the brain, while slowing down another, so for a few days after I start taking stuff, the world can be a very interesting place indeed.

The downside, I know, will be a loss of some of life's colour for a little while. I just won't "see" quite as much next week as I did last week.

The upside is that I might remember to pay the electricity bill, buy a new toothbrush, and actually go out and see a client or two.

AND... Dex is a fabulous appetite supressant, so I can expect to shed more than a few kilos in the process. Ah well. If that's the price I have to pay for being a functioning human being, then I guess I'll live with it for a while.

Good Dog!

If, like me, you think (most) dogs are better company that (most) people, go HERE.

League of Nations

That's what my bowling league is called.

And each of the teams is named after a country (that usually reflects the country of origin of the team members). There's Greece, Lebanon, Syria, Italy, England, Greece II, Lebanon II & III, New Zealand, Fiji, Hong Kong, Korea, Vietnam and even an Australia.

...except for my team (which I joined long after it was formed), and which is named "Dream Team". I have no idea why, and it's embarrasing to play in the only team that doesn't have a real name.

Therefore, I have informed my team mates that this week, we're going to change our name. We have a shortlist...

• Burundi
• Botswana
• Moldovia
• Tasmania
• Senegal
• Togo
• Monaco
• Hutt River

The front runner is Derkaderkistan.

Team America: World Police, saved the world from the evil terrorists of Derkaderkistan.

Nominations, though, have not yet closed...

There's A Bear In There

Our coathanger is 75 today, and to celebrate, it was closed to cars yesterday (Sunday) so we could wander across like ants. They reckon around 500,000 people took the opportunity, but given that it looked like this for much of the day, I suspect it might have been more.

The bear was there, though by the time Dr J and I joing the throngs, they'd run out of free yellow hats.

Doctors Prefer Camel

Dr J sent me this earlier in the week.

You have to admire the Tobacco Industry. It's a real ad from the 1940s, and the copy writing is brilliant. Every doctor in private practice was asked "What cigarette do you smoke?".

"Not a guess, not just a trend, but an actual fact based on statements of the doctors themselves to 3 nationally known independent research organisations.

"Yes, your doctors was asked, along with thousands and thousands of other doctors from Maine to California.

"And they've named their choice--the brand that more doctors named as their smoke is Camel!"

Not one research organisation, but 3, and not just any old research organisations, but "nationally known" research organisations! Brilliant! But there's more... not just any old doctors either, but your YOUR doctor! I love it! If these guys were around today, they'd be writing infomercials, or speeches for presidential aspirants.

Apparently, the proof is all in the "T Zone" (bottom left)...

"The 'T Zone' Test Will Tell You"

"The 'T Zone'--T for taste and T for throat--is your own laboratory, your proving ground for any cigarette. For only your taste and your throat can decide which cigarette tastes best to you... and how it effects your throat. On the basis of experience of many many millions of smokers, we believe Camels will suit your 'T-Zone' to a T."

Fabulous! "...proving ground". So bloody anachronistic. And to think... this was created in the days when advertising and marketing were more dark arts, and less the evil sciences they are today.

Creepy II

While you're still wondering what to do with So Truly Real TM Hannah, you might consider adding one of these to your apartment.

It's described on eBay as "This is a removable pole that fits most apartments. It is 2nd hand and the nut at the bottom is getting a little worn; however just needs a strong hand to secure it tightly. It comes with a spirit leveller and spanner. Pick up only from Toorak, Victoria".

The highest bid is A$100.

Just Plain Creepy

Every now and then, just when I'm starting to get the feeling that the world is a little humdrum, I trip over stuff that restores my faith in that old Vulcan philosophy of "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations".


The loose translation of that would be "it takes all kinds to make a world". Yup. All kinds, though this morning, I am struggling to understand the mind of a person who would buy something like this...


We're not talking cute clothes for baby here. People with babies lose higher thinking faculties and so whatever they do can be put down to a temporary failure of reason. No. This is a doll, described by its makers as "So Truly Real"TM that you'll "love him like your own".



I thought I'd better go to the website and see what other methods of money extraction this company has, and... um...

...I just don't know what to say.

I found Little Steve and a whole family of Little Steve's brothers and sisters, plus some other stuff that... no... I can't describe it yet... I need to think about it a bit, so let's get back to Steve's family.

There's Tiny Miracle Emmy, a premature-baby doll you can hold in your hand. Emmy's also So Truly Real TM, and she's "an amazing 25cm" long, which is a curious way to describe the size of anything that's not bigger than an Airbus A380 or smaller than a grape seed but I suppose we should cut the copy writers some slack.

What about "Jack the Little Rooster"...
"Jack, the Little Rooster" – a baby doll So Truly Real you'll love him like your own! "Jack" is incredibly lifelike, from his RealTouch™ vinyl skin to his hand-applied hair, appealing brown eyes and irresistible expression. He even has carefully applied fingernails and toenails. Pick him up and he looks and feels like a real baby! "Jack" comes to you in an adorable hand-tailored rugby league-inspired outfit, including cap, shoes and socks. Once you hold him, look into his happy face and love him, you'll be convinced he's So Truly Real! "Jack" comes with a FREE "Adoption Certificate".

"Love him like your own"??? "Looks and feels like a real baby"??? I'll bet he doesn't smell like a real baby, and scream in the middle of the night like a real baby, though I suppose if he did, unlike the real thing, at least you could send him back.

You can also get Ben the Little Eagle , Timmy the Little Bomber, Bobbie the Little Magpie, Bill the Little Eel, Tom the Little Raider, Sam the Little Bronco, Nicholas the Little Sea Eagle, Jamie the Little Knight, Liam the Little Tiger, Josh the Little Cowboy and Ryan the Little Panther, each dressed in their appropriate team regalia with certificates etc, and each with that (am I allowed to say 'retarded'?) facial expression, and a name so archetypally matched to the part of Australia the football team represents that my level of respect for the aforementioned copy writers has been considerably raised.

But then there's "Hanging Out With Hannah", and I think I'll leave it to the copy to tell you all about her...

Remember what it's like to have an eight year old around? Collectible doll artist Julie Fischer certainly does, and so she's created "Hannah," a long-limbed, lively strawberry blonde with bright eyes, unruly hair, and a non-stop, personality that will amaze you! To enhance the look of a real little girl, this vinyl doll wears cross-stich embroidered overalls over a pink blouse with lace trim. She even has tiny flower earrings with sparkling pink stones! Such a pretty girl! Best of all, Hannah is constructed and weighted so you can pose her almost anyway you can think of! Nominated for the 2005 DOTY Award, this exclusive Julie Fischer doll from Ashton-Drake is such a realistic doll that you simply must have her for yourself. One look and you'll love Hannah forever – order now!

So... um... are they saying Hannah is the doll of choice for paedophiles everywhere?

Or perhaps she's just the perfect gift for sad old tarts who forgot to have children. At least they didn't have to wreck their figures and surrender their social lives to have her, though I do have an image in my head such that I'm reasonably sure an excess of assorted comfort foods wrecked that figure a very long time ago, and there hasn't been much of a social life for quite a while either.

Are they serious? This is a life sized eight year old, um, no... what I mean is that this is a life sized replica of an eight year old. And how can a doll have a "non-stop personality"?

Does anyone else find this a little creepy? Except for the distinct advantage that having Hannah strapped into the front seat of the car would bring (when you were trying to get to the office in a hurry and wanted to use the T2 transit lane), why would you want one of these?

Ah well. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. The world would be a very boring place if we were all the same.

(If you want to see much more noice (that's not a typo, it's a pronunciation) and rather creepy "collactables", go HERE.)

Life Really Is A Lottery

Oh joy!

It seems I've won the "English National Lottery". THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS is, apparently, waiting for me to collect.

AND

In the same week, I've also won a MILLION EUROS in something called the Euro-PW Lottery Online.

I am just SO lucky. Actually, with this much luck, I'd better go and actually buy a lottery ticket. I mean, what are the chances of TWO of my email addresses winning lotteries within days of each other. All without me even knowing I'd entered. Astounding.

It must be true though. I got these emails that said so. My email addresses, it seems, had been "selected at random from the internet" and entered in the lotteries and they won!! BOTH of them! Woo bloody hoo!

All I have to do for one of them is contact some "barraster" in London somewhere. Or was that "barista". I can't exactly recall, though I do suspect that the average barista might have more qualifications than this "barraster". And for the other, I just have to send a note to "The Director Of Winning Claims Department", though I'm not allowed to mention the win to anyone because of "unwarranted abuse of this program by some participant". Gee.. I hope they're not talking about me.

Ah well. Gotta go. Have to write me a couple of claims emails and work out where/how to spend/invest all that loot. HooAh!

Kapow!

A Sydney Morning Herald reader, Mikey Wang, snapped this shot of a lightning bolt hitting the Coathanger during last night's storm. For more pics, go HERE.

The Delicate Sound Of Thunder

We're in the middle of the most amazing thunderstorm right now. I've been standing on my balcony watching for about the last 30 minutes, but decided to come in when a bolt of lightning flashed horizontally across the sky right overhead, acompanied by the biggest, loudest mother of all bangs I've ever heard.

The sky above me is lighting up like a flourescent tube, so bright it's turning midnight into daylight. And the flashes are coming every few seconds.

This is absolutely spectacular! Someone up there is very very pissed off.

Nice To Know

Anyone who's read this blog for more than a few weeks will know I'm no great fan of bureaucrats. I just have trouble understanding the bureaucratic mind.

Take this, from the Australian and New Zealand Food Standards Code...

15-Hygiene of food handlers
A food handler must, when engaging in any food handling operation -
f) not sneeze, blow or cough over unprotected food or surfaces likely to come into contact with food;
g) not spit, smoke or use tobacco or similar preparations in areas in which food is handled; and
h) not urinate or defecate except in a toilet.

Ok. Thanks for clarifying that, because until I saw that they needed to put something in the Government Regulations about it, I didn't know that people defecating in food preparation areas was a problem.

Seriously. Do they really need to write that up? I mean, isn't it just bloody obvious?

Are food workers so stupid that they don't know these things? Or maybe they're so unclean that this is natural behaviour to them, in which case, I don't want them preparing my food.

And if it's that important to state the obvious, why didn't they prohibit engaging in sexual activity near food, or exercising in a food preparation area? What about chewing gum? Or snorting cocaine?

I just don't get it. Bah!

Holiday In Hell

Photo Courtesy Associated Press

I was reading a story on the Sydney Morning Herald website tonight. It was a routine AP report about Italy's Stromboli Volcano erupting again. The piece talked about how Stromboli is a favourite summer vacation destination for Europe's glitterati, and how it was now a dangerous place.

"Locals fear a repeat of the events of December 2002 when a similar upsurge in volcanic activity caused a massive chunk of rock to drop into the sea, causing a 10-metre (33 foot) tidal wave that ruined houses close to the shore.

"Emergency sirens sounded on the island when the new eruption began and local authorities ordered all residents to move to at least 10 metres above the water line."

And at the bottom, an ad for local travel agency chain Flight Centre saying "book your holiday now".

Nice one.

Scamming The Lads - Priceless

There's nothing that can occupy an ADD mind like mine for 5 minutes quite like those lads from Lagos.

I had a lengthy exchange a few months back with a Mrs Maxwell who, apparently, was dying of cancer/stroke/boils in a Hospital in Libya.

She was looking for someone to help her carry the 36mil her husband had put in a trunk and left in a Self Storage place somewhere in Lagos. Of course, she wanted most of it to go to orphaned children without parents (like there are any other kinds of orphaned children), and there'd be a 25% commission in it for me because she needed a dumb white person to help her con the people who owned the storage place to pull out the bolt cutters, snap off the padlock on the garage door and get the loot out of there.

She was also a little foggy on why so much cash was there in the first place, and even more foggy on how many trunks, and how much they weighed, whichj meant renting the right sized ute/pick-up from Avis at Lagos International Airport would be a challenge.

Luckily, I can create and destroy email addresses at will, so I said my name was Smart (with the email address to prove it), which, of course, let me suggest we create the Maxwell Smart Foundation.

Ok. So you had to be there. It was a little funny at the time, but I'll admit to being an amateur when it comes to scamming Lads from Lagos.

THIS PIECE from scamorama.com has been my favourite for a long time...
...or at least it was before I tripped over this one from 419eater.com, which is priceless, especially if you're a Monty Python fan like me...

Simple Task

Or "How to make otherwise intelligent people feel really stupid without trying."

I have to admit to being a little over "Blogger Beta" or whatever it's called now. The thing I'm over most is the need to translate this..into gklhsyh.

You've seen them... they're on some blogs to stop the unwashed illiteratae from making comments. I'm not stupid, or at least I don't think I'm stupid, so I am reasonably sure I am capable of reading sans dislexia and faithfully typing the letters as they appear...

...except that I seem to get it wrong about one in every three times. Or not. Methinks Blogger may be playing little tricks here... a sort of dweeb programmer's idea of a practical joke.

Speaking of which, this is the one from a programming forum I'm trying to join...

...the meaning of which is an absolute bloody mystery, and this is about the sixth I've tried. To me, that's WDVTK, except that it isn't.

Global Warming III - Listen Up!

I know some of my regular readers couldn't care less about this bear's alternative theories on Global Warming. I also know that those theories are far from politically correct, but anyone who knows me will be hard pressed to remember anytime Chester The Bear has been politically correct about anything. Swimming against the current is hard wired into my brain somehow (and believe me, there are times I wish it wasn't).

Regular readers of this blog will also know I've recently become obsessed with the whole global warming thing, mostly because I have a brain made out of straw and there are some arguments the doomsayers use that just don't make sense to me.

So before I get into my latest rant, let me recap, incase you were too disinterested to read previous posts...

Volcanic activity around the world has increased threefold in the last 300 years. From 1700 to 1799, there were just 34 "explosive cataclysmic eruptions". From 1800 to 1899, 41, and from 1900 to 1999, 69. Since 2000, we're running at 1 a year.

Around 90% (and maybe more) of the world's volcanic activity occurs out of site at the bottom of the deep ocean, in places called mid-ocean rifts. These are the cracks between the earth's plates where magma from the molten core oozes undetected out into the ocean.

The ocean rifts are so poorly explored that geologists have very little idea of the extent of activity. My suggestion was that global warming is more likely linked to this subsea heating of our oceans that the activities of mankind. Somewhat arrogantly, I thought I might be the only peson on the planet to have made the connection. Thankfully, I'm not, and there are some researchers with lots of letters after their names who've been looking at this for a while.

However, a few weeks ago, along came the UN and its report of climate change that "unanimously" layed the blame at human feet.

Unanimous? An alarm bell immediately went off in my head, an alarm so loud it drowed out the tinitus.

First, when was the last time you believed ANYTHING any government report anywhere told you?

More importantly, when was the last time you saw scientists unanimously agree on anything? The entire process of science is one of argument and counter argument, and is so unbelievably politicised that murders have been committed in the interests of defending one position over another. An eminent scientist will have a theory, and an equally credentialled scientist angrily shouts "bullshit". That is the history of science.

So, back to the point of this rant.

Global Warming Doomsayers point to the rapidly disappearing ice sheet as "absolute, irrefuteable proof" that the world is heating up, and with sweeping disregard for the rules of evidence, they always manage to tack "and human activity is to blame" on to the end of the sentence.

Really? Irrefuteable proof?

For the last couple of years, a team of American and German scientists have been looking at the Gakkel Ridge, a 5000 metre high volcanic ridge on the sea floor stretching from Greenland to Siberia, right under the Arctic Ice Cap. What they expected to find was little pockets of thermal activity here and there.

What they actually found was, to quote them, "surprisingly strong magmatic activity in the west and the east of the ridge and one of the strongest hydrothermal activities ever seen at mid-ocean ridges."

There were also far more hot springs on the seafloor than predietced. "We expected this to be a hydrothermally dead ridge, and almost every time our water measurement instruments came up, they showed evidence of hydrothermal activity, and once we even 'saw' an active hot spring on the sea floor," said Dr. Jonathan Snow, the leader of the research group from the Max Planck Institute.

Of course the bloody ice cap is melting. Try putting a big block of ice in a pot of water on the stove and see how long it lasts.

At the other end of the world, in the Souther Pacific Ocean, the rift between the Pacific and Nazca tectonic plates is 'speeding' apart at 15cm a year. That's 5 times the usual speed which means 5 times the amount of magma is oozing out of the middle of the world, which means 5 times the heat is going into the ocean.

And guess where the Pacific/Nazca Plate Rift is? Just near the Antarctic Peninsula, the place that's heating up faster than any other place on the planet. Really? Now wouldn't that be a surprise.

Finally, just last week, came some published research showing NO measurable change in either temperature or precipitation across the Antarctic Continent over the last 50 years. That has climate modellers baffled because in all of the we-did-it global warming models, Antarctica ought to be heating up. Band wagon scientists have been desperately trying to explain this anomaly away. It's important to them. Their next research grant probably depends on coming up with a good explaination, and in any event it's human nature to fit what we see into our model of the world and what we think we know.

Watch now, as the sub sea global warming proposition starts gaining momentum. This debate is far from over.

Bowlarama

I joined a bowling league a couple of weeks ago. It's true. Really. I did. It's been about 15 years since I've been bowling (except for once when CAW and I wagged school (work) one day just before she went to the Excited States). But I used to be ok at it, so back to the lanes I went.

Now I have to say, it has been a bit of a culture shock, and decribing my fellow bowlers would be a whole other blog. I don't think I'll go there.

I dredged out the old bowling shoes, which, I should add, belonged to dad and are nearly as old as I am. He had them hand made by a boot maker just up the road from his factory... I think his name was Pinucci. They've seen better days, thoes shoes, and I suspect a trip to the shoe repair shop might be in order but hey, it's better than "house shoes".

I need a new ball though. I absolutely can't remember what happened to the old one, but it's gone, and sticking one's fingers into one of those "house balls" is... well... let's just say one has no idea where the fingers that were last in those holes have been.

I just can't decide which one ball though. The days of Henry Ford Balls (you can have any colour you want, as long as it's black) are long gone, and there are now so many to choose from.

There's the watermelon ball...

Or the eye ball, which I kind of like, but after a while, I think it would freak me out.

Or maybe this one, understated, with a dash of class. Moo!

Or the megalomaniac's favourite, and currently, my first choice.

And finally, this one, which, given the nature of my newfound bowling buddies, wouldn't work for me, but maybe CAW could put it on her shopping list if she and Big B ever come home to Oz.

Where Is That Umbrella?

It's raining. Really... and I mean RAINING. We're talking 'build a very large boat and start collecting animals' type raining. Ok, maybe not that hard, but this is no passing shower.

This is only important, or even remotely interesting if you live in Sydney or surrounds, where we're experiencing the worst dought in recorded history. The number of times we've had two days rain in a row in the last ten years could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

This is what February used to be like when I was in primary school. It ALWAYS rained in February back then. I remember, because it was back-to-school time after the summer holidays. It just isn't like that now, or at least it hasn't been. We've just had to suffer through years of unrelenting sunshine, and while I know that's only dreamt about in some parts of the world, I can tell you, it truly gets tedious.

So just for the novelty of it and with brolly in hand, I'm going for a walk because by the end of the week we'll be back to the same dreary blue skies.

And The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth (Not)

I made a BIG decision this week, to upgrade our web server to one where we had "root" access.

(For the Aussies among you, yes, you're right. "root access" really does mean you get screwed. For the non Aussies among you, a "root" is an Aussie euphamism for "getting to know someone in the biblical sense", a slightly warmer, fuzzier, less offensive "F" word.)

I'm not going to get too technical here, because it's about as interesting as watching mould grow in your shower, but what we're going through right now with this new whiz bang server is an insight into human nature.

Let's talk reality. If you buy a computer today, you have a choice. You can pay Apple for osX and the privilege of being cool, you can pay Microsoft for Vista and the pivilege of being disappointed that you didn't get to say "wow" (but at least there's lots of cool games that will run on your PC), or you can install one of the gazillion versions of unix/linux, with trendy names like 'Ubantu", 'Red Hat' or 'Debian'... for free.

Free.

So why do most of us choose to pay? Because someone else has done the work for us, and turned the computer's operating system into something we can understand. The alternative is so incomprehensible and so difficult to use that once you master it, you get to go back to your Dungeons and Dragons or Second Life pals wearing a T-Shirt with a penguin on it like it's a secret badge of honour.

You get to grow a really bushy beard too, and preach your one true way to the unwashed with all the fervour and zeal you can muster. Secretly, you really don't want them to listen, because if they did, your whole reason for being would end up in the trash can of life.

It can be summed up very simply...

"I know therefore I am"

...and if you know something that others can not possibly learn, then your place in society is assured (even if the only root you'll ever get is at the top level of your directory tree). And if you can wangle your way into a job that has responsibility for purchase decisions, you can guarantee yourself security for life because the way you set up the company server is so complicated that no-one else will ever understand it.

What has made Microsoft successful, apart from the cool eye candy on which the company's products are built, is the fact that even though the operating system gets more complex, the user inteface gets easier and more intuitive.

Steve Jobs built an entire way of life on that philosophy at Apple... complex tasks achieved with maximum simplicity.

Sadly, the opposite is true with unix/linux, (and a thing called "Apache Server" that makes most of the internet run). The more they develop, the more complex they get. That complexity is in inverse proportion to useability. Real users get swept aside in the interests of technological correctness.

Our new, blindingly fast server is like that. It's so magnificently complex, and so brilliantly over-engineered, that it actually won't do what we want it to do. Really. It can't, and what we want to do is not that difficult.

Worse still, because the preachers really don't want you to have the knowledge, they create manuals that are incomprehensible to anyone but the inner circle, sort of what the bible must have been to 12th century peasants . They seem to work on an assumption that you already know what they're trying to tell you. I've got news for you... if I already new, I wouldn't be reading the manual.

Ah well. I have to go now. I have to put an ad online for a server programmer to get it all runing for us.

Peeling Bananas

There's just something creepy about those people who peel the whole skin off the banana, remove the fleshy edible bit with their fingers, and throw the skin away BEFORE they start eating.

You know who you are. I don't like you. Stop it immediately. Seriously. It really is just icky.

There is only one civilised way to eat a banana, which is to half peel the skin so that you have something that's not soft, wet and squishy to hold on to. The more you eat, the further you peel.

Actually, there is another way to eat a banana...

...with a fork or spoon, but before you can do that, you have to peel it, place it in a bowl, smother it with cream, ice cream, chocolate sauce, nuts, hundreds & thousands, and, if you're really adventurous, a dash of cinnamon.

Superbowl - The Best Bits

Sadly, I missed most of the superbowl game. I had to be at the office firing someone's ass (see previous post).

It didn't matter... we don't get to see the best bits anyway. You see, the broadcasters here think people watch the Superbowl for the game, so during the ads, they cut to station promos or some guest commentator.

Thankfully, the wonders of the intenet can fix that.

Of course, everyone's fave was the Bud ad with the poor liddle doggie, but this one from GM is brilliant.



Other honourable mentions to the Taco Bell ad with the lions, and the Coke ad with the guy in the old people's home.

Random Observations II

Ok. So yesterday's thoughts turned into a rant. As Mrs Mouse suggested, I may have a touch of Februaryitis, but I am fighting very hard, so I thought I'd try again...

Sunsets look better on a hazy day. It's got something to do with refraction of light through the particles of stuff that clog up our lungs.

The best part about a drought is that it doesn't rain. Ok. I know that sounds obvious, but one can at least plan ahead without having to make contingency plans for crappy weather.

The worst part about a drought is that it doesn't rain. I miss the rain sometimes... especially that misty, in-your-face rain you get 361 days of the year in Vancouver.

There's something magical about a walk through the back streets of Istanbul. If you haven't been there, put it on your list of places to see before you die.

"Il Sigaro" at L'Opera in Long Beach defies words. L'Opera is a chique Italian Ristorante on Pine St. Il Sigaro is dessert. If you haven't eaten there, put it on your list of things to do before you die.

Szechuan Garden in Sydney is one of the world's truly great Chinese restaurants. Go there. Have the Lamb Pancakes, Salt & Pepper Prawns and Pork Spare Ribs. OMG.

Most people sitting at the front of the plane didn't pay for their own ticket. Every time I fly anywhere, I wrestle with a big conflict... is getting to sit up the front in a nice wide comfy seat for 14 hours the best way to spend $5,000, or would that money be better spent on, say, some fabulous piece of art when I gete there. My head usually votes for the art. If it was my money, my head would probably win. Fortunately, most of my flying has been on someone elses dime.

Cars go faster when they're washed. They run better, and their engines are quieter too. It's almost as though the cars know.

In Papua New Guinea, the local language is "Tok Pisin". It's a corruption of English, German, and about a thousand local dialects. The expression for "comprehensively broken" is "bugarup", as in "car im bugarup", which loosely translates as "the car has broken down". Language can be universal.

There is something truly special about getting up just before dawn. That's why I don't do it very often. I'd hate to make it mundane and every-day.

Random Observations

I had a little time, today, while I was waiting for a locksmith to come and change the lock on the office door, to contemplate random stuff.

Here are a few observations...

• Potato chips don't taste as good as they used to.
• There are no visionaries left in the world any more.
• Successful people are more likely to have succeeded because of their ability to manipulate the people around them than because of their ability to do whatever it is they're supposed to be doing.
• Life was more fun and less complicated before we had all these things that were supposed to make our lives better (like laptops, mobile phones and cable TV).
• It's not wise to believe anything you hear from government, read on a label, or see in any advertisement.
• Milk doesn't taste as good as it used to.
• No-one in South Africa reads my blog.
• People are stupid. Not all of them, but so many of them as to characterise the species.
• Women generally have unreal expectations of what they should be receiving out of a relationship.
• Issues may change, but the global hysteria remains the same. 30 years ago it was nuclear armageddon and whales, 20 years ago, it was rainforest clearing and whales. 10 years ago, it was globalisation and whales, and today, it's climate change and whales. The only real loser, so far, has been the whales.
• Politicians are smarter than people, in that they know people are stupid, but at the same time, they're more stupid than people because irrespective of how well intentioned they are, they generally don't have a clue.
• Strawberries don't taste as good as they used to.
• It's much more difficult today for someone to invent something in their garage that will change the world, than it was, say, 100 years ago when people were hand building internal combustion engines and flying machines.
• Footballers are paid too much.
• Capitalism doesn't work any more (I'm choking on this... I am a card carrying capitalist), because company directors have to make decisions for the short term profit of the company and not the long term enrichment of the society.
• Communism never worked, because corruption is a very tempting beast.
• There's no "wow" left in the world (despite what Microsoft is trying to tell us).
• Nothing tastes as good as it used to.
• I've reached the conclusion that if the world was more like Star Trek, it would be a very boring place indeed (and I am a card carrying Trekkie from way back).
• As a society, we've become individually too nasty and collectively too nice.
• Having every possible luxury available to anyone all the time just takes the sizzle out of life.
• Avocados used to be a treat. Now they're everywhere (and they don't taste as good as they used to).

Hmmm... it turned into a rant. Sorry.

I Am Such A Bastard!

I fired our receptionist/secretary this morning, and didn't so much as go through a single second of feeling bad about it.

After all, she deserved it. She was a slacker who we think spent most of her day web surfing and chatting with girlfriends on-line. And at the end of each day, she'd use one of those track eliminators to remove (or so she thought), all evidence of what she'd been doing.

We'd suspected it for a while, but after Friday's incident, we did some real checking.

Friday? Let's just say we had a display of absolute disrespect, followed by a major dummy spit, followed by "I just can't stay here today. I need the rest of the day off", closely followed by secretary (let's call her "K") scuttling out the door.

It struck me that it may have been no co-incidence that Friday was deadline day for a number of key projects that we'd handed over to K, and the only reason I was in the office at all was to go through them with her.

SO I spent a couple of hours trawling through her computer and found... nothing.

And I really mean "nothing"... not a single word processing or spreadsheet file had been created or altered in the two preceeding weeks.

No wonder she had to go home sick... she hadn't finished her assignment. I remember using that trick once or twice, but the difference is, that was primary school, and this is life.

The odd part was every time Dr J or I passed her desk, she'd be typing away furiously, looking awfully productive. This makes me sad. I used to swear blind that if ever I was fortunate enough to be able to employ other people, I would never spy on them, and would give them space to get on with the job without constant fear of me looking over the shoulder.

Now I'm starting to rethink. Are all employees slackers who won't actually do the work unless the boss rides them all day?

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.