The Best Video on The Internet!

At last years Comedy Prom's, Australia's best export since Sir Les Patterson, the incredibly talented Tim Minchin, changed the order of service a little and, instead of typically finishing a proms concert with God Save the Queen, finished with Britain's unofficial national anthem.

You would have to be a dead stick; a withered and dessicated piece of genetically deficient matter not to be stirred by this great piece of music.

Check out some of Tim's other music on Youtube for no other reason than it's a bloody funny way of spending money on bandwith.

How to Cut Employment Fast

Youth unemployment would plummet I feel if this was on offer.

HatTip: Whale

Charter Schools: Jim Hacker says "Yes!"

Did these guys know something that we don't. There's a good argument in there somewhere:

Only in New Zealand......

....I suspect, would this be a leading news story and also the leading contender for Headline of the Year 2012.

"

Man drives flaming tractor into lake

NICCI MCDOUGALL AND GWYNETH HYNDMAN"

From Stuff.co.nz here.

We Could Be Heroes.......

  I'm sure I lived in an age of heroes.

  My teens were 20 years ago now (god thats sick!!!) and it seemed to be around that time that there was heaps of heroic stuff going on. People were still doing amazing, brave things like going around the world in a helicopter (always a dicey proposition at the best of times), going up in space then gliding back to earth two weeks later in an un-powered brick that had the aerodynamic profile of an elephant and the drag coefficient of a wet box of tissues or walking all the way to the North Pole......... backwards - stopping only to apologise to the disgruntled penguin, whom you just tripped over. There were still records to be set (and don't give me that "well they're still setting them" crap cause I've seen that Guinness Records show and you know its crap too!), places to see and frontiers to explore.

Heroism is defined as being of special bravery, warrior-like spirit (in the Homeric sense, that is), someone worthy of great deeds and having an inherent nobility. These people have some extra, intangible quality that radiates like golden light on the rest of us poor moths -so much so that we circle these people in a mad rush to bathe for a moment, just a small moment in their reflected glory, hoping that a little bit of their light will shine on us.

  Often , heroism was most commonly displayed on the battlefield (Sorry ladies, you actually had to dress like a man, go win a war then be lighly fricassee'd to be counted as heroic in the old days) where songs would be sung of glorious battle, of sacrifice and even a divine nobility that blessed great men with the honour of being remembered throughout time.

  Most of the time it was bollocks, though.

  The stories of glorious death turned out to be rather inglorious (Basterds!, how dare they make all that stuff up) as we've come to find that war was not the great enterprise we all thought it was and instead turned out to be a bit of a drag really. In fact its not very nice at all. Sacrifice is a bit of a pain in the arse too because it seems that a great many nice people go away and then never come back so that isn't so great. And who really wants a song made up about them if they are not around to hear it? I'd be jolly annoyed if someone went to all the trouble to make up a good tune and put in some good lyrics and I never got to listen! I did all the work didn't I? And good luck rhyming with XChequer - but if anyone could, please be Eddie Vedder! (huh, chequer.....vedder).

 So, war has turned out to be a fizzer.

  Politicians? Nah, lets not go there. The Clergy? They've been venerated for years, haven't they. But mostly by other clergy, so I don't think that really counts. Knights! Now, theres a goody! Heroes of old were knights. The common man aspired to knighthood by worthy deed. They were lauded they were.......eh? Oh, yeah. War again. Bugger.

So where are our heroes then? Where are the people that we used to look up to - who gave our lives a centreboard, a keel by which to help sail life by? If our parents were the hull of the ship, the framework from which we'd start our voyage (this metaphor is starting to make me be a little vomitously ill now) then weren't heroes the people that gave us aspiration to start out on our own? We had their pictures plastered on our walls, we read about them in books and imagined ourselves doing the same things they did - only with us in their place. Aside from sounding like a fatuous boy scout who's just taken some cranking peyote, does any one think like this anymore? Or am I just a relic?

  These days the cupboard seems a bit bare. These days our heroes (it all seems a bit flaccid, really, to even call them that) are vapid - and vampiric - movie stars who do..... well they make us feel good but do they actually do anything heroic? Other heroes are business people who stamp their mark by........... by...... making a lot of money (if you say this out loud, it really doesn't sound that heroic does it?).

Or are the heroes still there but because I'm now older, I don't know about them or identify with them? I think the world is a better place with  heroes in it but are we now so sophisticated that we don't need them?

That would be a shame.

Brilliant....absolutely brilliant

Very good.

Who says that American's don't do irony?

News Pap is Universal

Ana Samways is a delight in the NZ Herald's Sideswipe column and she is online here.

This, from her blogsite today:

Caption Contest

Ah, the internet. Oh sooo good in sooo many ways! But can we do better than the caption already there?

Best Post of the Week!

LaughyKate posts here the best (IMHO) post of the week.

God kiwi's do understatment well.

I Think I Get It Now

(Disclaimer,

This maybe the hardest thing I have ever written about and the chances of making a complete fool of myself are high. A topic that bears ridicule when trivialised, oversentimented or any other way killed by massive, blunt, cliche trauma.

Had I not promised that the subject would be addressed - albeit after equal large amounts of sun, food and alcohol - I would probably never go near it.

Here it is then.)

I was at a wedding the other day. Nothing unusual in itself except for the first time, I was at a wedding where one of the two main participants was a very, very, close friend.

This may sound callous and if there are people reading whose wedding I have been to, I apologise if you thought I liked you more than I do. But to explain, the groom at this wedding is part of what I call "The Front Row", this being my three most important mates who prop up my life from time to time. They are the the guys that do the hard yards -often unnoticed but never ignored - behind the scenes. And one of these Front Rowers, the loose head prop, was gettin' hitched!

The girl that he was marrying is one of life's amazing people. Burdened with beauty and brains, she never-the-less carries it off with superb aplomb. Bright, articulate, caring and generous, she is one of those people whom, if you only met once, is able to worm her way into your subconscious leaving an indelible mark. You could be on your deathbed, your mind addled with age, confusion and small amounts of morphine yet, like a bonfire on New Years eve, you would be able to remember her face clear as day. And she was marrying my loose head prop.

To say that she was the person that I'd imagined my prop marrying would be wrong. Not that he wouldn't deserve such a paragon, she just probably wasn't what I'd had in mind when thinking of the girl whom the prop would eventually join with.

With that in mind, you may not be surprised to learn that I'd previously always viewed the Bride with a degree of skepticism, as if she had hijacked my best friend and was taking him on a voyage that would lead to disaster. "This" I thought to myself, "is going to lead to me picking up my mate, dusting him off and telling him that he'll get over it in time" after the bride had systematically pureed his heart to a fine paste then served it on crackers with a garnish of fresh spring onion and a nice cup of tea.

But I didn't get it.

To say that there is a hint of jealousy in the paragraph above would be like telling Bill Gates' son that there maybe a future in this whole personal computer malarky or warning the Dalai Lama that those Chinese fellas mightn't be as friendly as they seem. After all, she couldn't know what was best for a front rower, could she? Only a fellow forward would know that.

But because he is in the Front Row, I was paying a bit more attention than usual. I actually watched, listened and absorbed on a level I'd previously reserved only for Oscar nominated films or woman whom, after I'd slept with them, lyingly told me how good I was in bed!

Even at this point, I didn't really get it. Sure, I noticed the devotional words, the slightly embarrassed grins from them both as the most poignant and sentimental vows were spoken - such words as they are should only ever be voiced once in your life. Even at the point where the union was blessed with the phrase "man and wife", my conceit meant that I still didn't get it.

It was only until the speeches that things started to become clear.

The nice thing about be a spare wheel at a wedding (something I'll talk about more in a later post) is the general absence of responsibility. One isn't laboured with a partner,wife or girlfriend whom you feel compelled talk to every once and a while. Likewise, because there is such a mix of the bride and groom's friends and relations, chances are that you will be seated beside a person that, since you don't know them that well, you can choose to not talk to them and it isn't seen as rude - merely nervous. So, you get the chance to look and listen a lot more than if you were in the midst of it all. And it was there that I saw it - on two distinct occasions!

Through a break in the crowd I watched as the Front Rower was looking at the woman who had recently promised to join him in matrimony. It was a long look. So long, in fact, that I thought he'd gone to sleep with his eyes open and a grin on his face. She was talking to the bridesmaid so had no clue that he was watching her.

This look was powerful......... but gentle. It was loving but not smothering. It was lustful yet kind. And I'd never seen the Front Rower look at anyone the way he looked at his bride. He is not the most expressive of people at the best of times. Indeed, this guy could qualify from Human Statue College with a double degree in granite looks and still motion with honours! In all the time I have known him, the front rower never gave much away with his eyes or face. Except here. He had given it all away.

I reached for a tasty beverage to consider what I'd seen. The bugger was more in love with this woman than he'd let on! Sure, there was the whole "marriage, declaration before friends, family and the world" thing but surely he would have told me if it was really "The One", wouldn't he?

I looked back at him to find that he had turned away to someone else, and this time, the Bride was looking at him. To say that the look that the bride gave the front rower was the same as his but magnified would be a wonderful understatement. It was more.

She had this smile dancing across her face. Only a small smile, you had to watch her a while to make sure the disco ball lights weren't playing "Purple Rain" with your eyes. And this smile said, "I know you better than anyone. I know you love me and I adore you".

I looked away as if I was seeing something I shouldn't. Something intensely private, R18 or not meant for general release. Another tasty beverage was called for to cool the heat of embarrassment from witnessing something so personal.

Then I got it.

Love is looking at someone else and, whether or not they are looking back, letting them know how you feel. And for such looks, words are not needed. It made me fervently hope to look and be looked at like that one day myself. And the reason that the Bride and the Front Rower could look at each other so long with this gaze on their faces was that they had "got it" long ago. I also realised that my vision of my mate's interior organs being served as hors d'oeuvre was way outta line and certainly wouldn't come true. I also realised at that time that there could be no other bride for my loosehead prop. Even props need front rowers of their own.

Because she does know the Front Rower better than I . She does things for him what no other woman could, gives what no other friend could provide and looks at him in a way no words can truly encompass.

So there you are. Thats what I think love is. If you don't think thats right, feel free to comment, but thats my line and I'm sticking to it.

For Keith and Helena

Isn't Technology Just Grand?

This morning, I did all the ordinary, mundane things I usually do while struggling to activate myself.

Get out of bed, shower, coffee, endure the stares and piteous wailings of my underfed cat then settle into my cheap, semi-executive chair, press the button and wait for my gateway to the world, news, issues and free penile enlargements (interestingly enough offered FREE because by some amazing chance I am the 1,000,000th person to press the letter "L" that day) to open and come spewing forth at breakneck, ADSL speed to my computer.

"Error: Couldn't connect".

Thats all it said.

My morning was ruined. The steady flow that is routine was stymied by those three words. I was speechless and, like a freshly landed 20lb snapper, was left sitting there with my mouth just opening and closing.

My caffeine hit had yet to take its full course, the cats meowing was penetrating my foggy mind and the pressure was starting to build. A bead of sweat broke out at the base of my hairline. I could hear the "tick, tick, tick" of the kitchen clock from down the hallway to the kitchen. Time seemed to slow and my vision started to compress.

Withdrawal was setting in.

Action was needed and judging by the rate of perspiration wending it's way down my stubbled cheek, action was needed soon lest the cats wailing inflicted torture hitherto unseen since the days of the VC and their sharpened bamboo splints!

A call to Telecom was made. Usually this call is only made in desperate times as a journey through their automated telephone labyrinth is not undertaken lightly. However this was a time to be bold and as Basil King said, "be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid". And they did.

Not only was the wait for a "real" person mercifully quick - better yet, she was competent, attentive and engendered trust (no, Telecom did not give me a credit nor are they sponsoring this blog in any way.......yet) - she assured me that a technician would be on the job as soon as possible.

With that problem masterfully dealt to, there remained the problem of the router. It would need to be reconfigured. And even the word "router" itself implies defeat. And given that, short of an MIT doctorate or the Taihape School Short Course Diploma in computing certificate, would be needed to do so, I only wrestled with the thing for an hour before accepting the inevitable and calling the ISP for help.

Once again speed and competence were evident because as of 3pm, this afternoon, access to the outside world, news and cut-price canadian pharmaceuticals was restored. My blood pressure had dropped to more manageable levels and the cat now lies content on the floor after a feed to hold off starvation for another couple of days. All is right with the world.

Y'know, it's times like these when you ponder just how much computers have added to our lives. We must have been so naive back "in the day" getting round our daily lives with all the speed of a medicated snail. Especially compared to todays world with all these marvelous tools on hand to assist us.

Isn't technology just grand?