Email to:Love In A Time Of Cardiomyopathy
When life simultaneously saddens AND tickles I always think: We are in business KJ, we are in business!
So it was that my dear friend (the one who says my new bag looks like a uterus) and I – and my dear friend’s mum, a real little bugger – went to the pictures. The thing is the little bugger has run into big trouble – a diagnosis of early-stage dementia.
Sitting there in Cinema Five, we were poised to see the brilliant (if not a little scrawny) Sean Penn in the gays rights thingo (Harvey) Milk. BUT instead, on comes Emma Thompson and my favourite Hollywood Shortarse, Dustin Hoffman. The little bugger looks at us with her famous bluies:
I’M CONFUSED!
We all were. We were at Last Chance Harvey. Well, I ask you, what are the odds of having two films about Harveys on at the very same time? So, Last Chance Harvey it was. At this stage of the game, we were just very relieved that we weren’t in front of the plasmas at Harvey Normans.
And so began 90 minutes of most unsettling viewing. Last Chance Harvey is (allegedly) a romantic-cum-comedy-cum-drama-cum-sci-fi-cum-love story for the MIDDLE-AGED.
cr: iirraa:flickr
All you need to know is this: Appalling men have hurt Kate ( Emma T) so many times it’s a wonder she can emerge from under the doona to visit her teeth whitener.
Harvey (Dustin), our bumbling Shortarse, has jetted into London to attend his borderline estranged daughter’s wedding.
Harvey and Kate eventually meet and (God help us) we discover how romance works for the over-fifty Shortarse and Maids-Menopausal Set. Suffice to say, it is very hard work BUT if two desperate people are willing to sit up all night, freezing their bums off on hard benches near the Thames talking, talking, TALKING…..things could work out, they really could……
So, thank you Harvey and Kate.
I am looking forward to meeting a Shortarse who writes jingles, enjoys double scotches, has an irregular heartbeat and a family glad to see the back of him.
WE WILL hang around the Opera House forecourt ALL night talking, talking, TALKING…..
And as the sun rises I WILL, in homage to Kate, throw off my stilettos so I can look Mr Last Chance in the eye.
I am yelling: So, how’s this gunna work Shortarse, how’s is this gunna work?
I DON’T KNOW KJ, I JUST DON’T KNOW….BUT IT WILL KJ….IT BLOODY WELL WILL….
PS. The little bugger says: IT BLOODY WELL WON’T!!
You’ll just go hell-for-leather KJ – and then you’ll burn out, you’ll just burn out, as usual, as per usual…..
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Must, MUST hear from you….. Are you a Highly Stimulatin’ Package on the last chance romance market? Do tell – triumphs AND challenges. Is Romance repugnant at any age? Are you under 30? PLEASE report in….we need EXOTICA! Anything else? New posters welcome. Note: The ABC has told me to reaffirm that this is NOT a dating site.
Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!
Prawn Cutlet Award
March 16th, 2009 at 11:12 am
My new laptop called Harvey – after Harvey Norman – is working well as I sit in my new Creative Trailer on Black Mountain, Canberra.
The New Parliament House is in view on the limestone plains below – the site of the once curling and beautiful Molonglo River before it became a mass of water called after the man who designed Leeton.
The lappie (it loves bubba, kitchy-koo words) sits in a nookie of the kitchie by the portable lavvie which is a respectable distance from the stovie which has an oven fannie, would you believe it?
It is also called after a friend of mine, Harvie, who has got me a job as a freelance speech writer for Kevin Rudd.
Harvie, like me, is an Irishman whose father once owned a string of newspapers.
Inheriting the fortune, he fell in love with a girl, but he became convinced she only loved him for his wealth.
So he gave all of his money away to homes for retired racehorses. Then, Harvie thought, she only likes me for my looks. He shaved off all of his hair and pulled out all of his teeth, dressed in tramps clothing and presented himself at her door, asking:
Do you still love me, lovie?
She slammed the door in his face by way of demur – hence his migration from the Ermerald Isle.
Harvie has rehabilitated himself – though he still calls everybody lovie – including his employer, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, Kev the Rev.
He briefed me thus:
It’s a piece of cake, lovie. (Harvie is a man of short stature but big ideas).
Kevie needs something a bit spicie in the speechie department, particularly for the youngies.
He needs to be seen to be groovie, sexie, new agie but still Woodstockie, without the inhalie – get the pickie, sweetie?
Sure I do Harvie. I understand. Ever since Kevie uttered the words ‘political shitstorm’ people were starting to think he might even be human.
Exactlie, even if you have to get a bit raunchie, make the next speech livelie and spicie! Kevie will read it without deviating from the scriptie or speechie monitor.
I’m your man, Easie Campesie. (Harvie’s manner is contagious)
So it was back in the trailer with Brekkie by my side – filled with Goulburn rabbits and chickens from careless farmers – that I tapped out on the lappie a riskie number for Kevie.
It was for the National Youth Congress in Queanbeyan. Harvie called it: Let’s Get Groovie 2009.
I am listening to Kevie on ABC News Radio right now.
He has stuck to the script word for word, like Robot Man.
You ask me, have I been young like you? You ask me, have I faced the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the challenges that young people face today?
I answer both in The Affirmative.
You ask me, have I needed stimulation, have I faced environmental difficulties?
Again I answer without hesitation in The Affirmative.
As a young Christian university student studying hard in the seventies I had to face many difficulties, many distractions.
I was just a face in a sea of genitalia…..
I must get in touch with Harvie. Spicie enough?
Quite TGM, quite!
*Walter Burley Griffin decided against an ornamental lake for Leeton (Lake Leeton) on the grounds that any water would look out of place. KJ
March 16th, 2009 at 12:55 pm
I’m saying all the things that I know you’ll like,
Makin’ good conversation
I gotta handle you just right.
You know what I mean,
I took you to an intimate restaurant
Then to a suggestive movie
There’s nothin’ left to talk about
Unless it’s horizontally………
Let’s get DIGITAL, DIGITAL……
Kev get DIGITAL, let’s get into DIGITAL….
Let me hear your body talk
Your body talk, let me hear your body talk…..
I’ve been patient, I’ve been good,
Tried to keep my hands on the table
It’s gettin’ hard this holdin’ back
You know what I mean….
I’m sure you’ll understand my point of view,
We know each other mentally
You gotta know that you’re bringin’ out
The animal in me……..
The camera’s DIGITAL, DIGITAL, DIGITAL….
I wanna get animal, let’s get into animal
Let me hear Rupert’s MONEY TALK……
KEVIN, LET YOUR BODY TALK, let me hear your body talk
Kev, get DIGITAL, DIGITAL, DIGITAL…….
March 16th, 2009 at 1:20 pm
At the Tavern of Tears I encountered a rather small man who embarrassingly insisted on turning the conversation to intimate relations.
Anybody ever tell you that you are a dead ringer for Dustin Hoffman? (I asked him in an attempt to deter him from his topic and where it was heading)
Thousands of people, matter of fact I have done a few hard core movies as a look alike…..
As Dustin?
No, I am known on the X Files as another famous character.
Which is?
Under the Table Top Man.
I think I shall give the Tavern a miss for a while.
Geriatric Chick Magnet – I ask you this: HAS ANYTHING GOOD EVER COME OUT OF THE TAVERN OF TEARS? KJ
March 16th, 2009 at 1:35 pm
Hello Megsy – forgot to tell you this….
A couple of weeks ago, word went around ABC Headquarters that your idol, FA Minister, Stephen Smith, was in the building heading for the lifts – far end, level four.
I jumped the lift which was jam packed with female staffers – and our VIP.
The vessel of conveyance arrived at ground level. We all got off. Said one staffer to another: I didn’t know that Steve was such a Shortarse…..
March 16th, 2009 at 1:45 pm
I am middle-aged, also vertically challenged. I like cameras when they are used for Romantic purposes, and I like this from REM…
When the party lulls, if we fall by the side -
Will you be remembered? Will she be remembered?
And so on – AND THEN:
Alone in a crowd, a bartered lantern borrowed
If I’m to be your camera, then who will be your face?
March 17th, 2009 at 6:29 am
ALL ROMANTICS should try this……
Travel to Leeton. Drive down Corbie Hill Road AT NIGHT until you come to the Corbie Hill Lookout.
Sit in your car with your loved one. Look ahead. You’ll see the twinkling lights of the main street, Pine Avenue.
Pine Avenue rises in the middle – okay, just a bit!
Everyone used to say it was just like looking at the Harbour Bridge by night.
THE ROMANTIC RIVERINE……..
KJ and Roma Street can probably tell us about other top lovin’ spots………
March 17th, 2009 at 8:35 am
Ex-Leetonite and ALL Incurable Romantics Of Any Age At All…..
Picture this:
A panel van parked on an Irrigation Channel bank on the outskirts of Leeton.
It’s misty – both INSIDE and OUTSIDE the vehicle…..
Could be the Murrumbigee or the SEINE – take your pick…….
On another matter…….TGM, will you be writing a St Pat’s Day speech for Rev Kev….thanking those of the Irish diaspora for their Highly Stimulatin’ contributions to our cultural and political landscape?
March 17th, 2009 at 9:38 am
Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit -
Here’s a bit of professional advice Ginge….
Get onto Phil Gladwin’s blog spot and learn…
http://www.screenwritinggoldmine.com/
Bags of wonga will shortly be yours.
Phil is the bloke who wrote Trials and Tribulations as featured on ABC TV.
Happy St Pat’s Day Mr O’Slatter! I am pleased to report that I have a hectic schedule of official activities – Folk Mass, Confession with Gaelic-speaking priest, Dancing Bendiction AND a Speed Rosary round robin. You?
March 17th, 2009 at 10:18 am
TGM – I am a fan of Bob Ellis as a speechwriter.
Go easy in your new venture…Malcolm Turnbull is suffering enough though photos are yet to emerge of him in semi-clad pose to perhaps assist in the popularity stakes.
Some very, very sad comments in here boys………
I’m a romantic. So is my husband.
It’s my birthday today and – from a bowl on top of the fridge – emerged this note:
To dear Meg,
This is a joint equine project. Happy birthday from us all! Remember Amber is for luck.
I don’t know if Amber is for luck, I don’t care that opals are unlucky for lovers….
I just know that a bloke who buys two pairs of earrings and says they’re from the equine members of the family is a true romantic.
March 17th, 2009 at 10:59 am
Dear Megsy,
Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a founding member of our little cyber community would be sharing a birthday with St Pat…..
Rafferty’s Rules in your staffroom, Rafferty’s Rules – jokes, vigorous exchange of potato bake recipes, gutsy renditions of I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen - all topped off with a couple of heart-wrenching readings from Angela’s Ashes.
Keep your eye on those Amber earrings – they’d be worth a bob and (these days) you just never know, you just NEVER know………
March 17th, 2009 at 11:33 am
KJ,
Yes. I have returned to the Tavern of Tears with two large taro-eating security men dressed in black (who insist they are Irish) to protect me from Undesirables.
Of course, the taro is green.
We have initiated a Gaelic Rosary group to celebrate the coming of the Faith to Ireland.
We have a stack of religious pamphlets and Miraculous Medals ON the table amongst the jugs of green beer.
Maybe so GCM – but I still feel that you and The Tavern Of Tears are not a good combo….not at all. KJ
March 17th, 2009 at 11:38 am
The poor wee Druid
Sits on his own
Asking, why was I born?
Drinking deep his dark porter
He looks quite forlorn.
March 17th, 2009 at 11:39 am
On this day I realize why Everything Is So Bloody Green…….
March 17th, 2009 at 11:45 am
Meg,
Happy Birthday.
I lit a small green candle for you today.
It serves a dual purpose: to remind me of your loveliness, and to keep the mozzies at bay.
Best wishes.
TGM
*Next speech will be immaculate for Rev Kev.
I taught Ellis all he knows, but he is a difficult learner.
March 17th, 2009 at 3:02 pm
KJ,
You have crushed a few dreams and romantic notions re Stephen Smith.
Shortarse indeed! BUT I’m only 162 cms.
I’m sitting in the office at my desk.
YES, Rafferty’s Rules supreme.
Gin & Tonics with friends…..
No food colouring.
……Birthday gal, don’t worry about Mr Smith. He is growing in STATURE….AND you have urgent business there. ALL TOGETHER NOW…..One, Two, Three….
Oh, her eyes they shone like the diamonds
And I thought her the pride of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulders
Tied up with a black velvet band.
KJ
March 17th, 2009 at 4:07 pm
‘Happy St Pat’s Day Mr O’Slatter! I am pleased to report that I have a hectic schedule of official activities – Folk Mass, Confession with Gaelic-speaking priest, Dancing Bendiction AND a Speed Rosary round robin. You?’
Only a few green beers of contemplation KJ and NO shenanigans.
March 17th, 2009 at 4:21 pm
A fine plan Mr O’Slatter, a fine plan.
* I won the Speed Rosary Round Robin.
DON’T TELL ANYONE but I deliberately dropped a couple of Hail Marys from crucial, high-pressure deckets. No-one noticed…..
KJ
March 17th, 2009 at 9:01 pm
Have you tried Kanga Bangers?
They are great and – because kangaroos do not fart and emit cimate change gases or destroy native vegetation like cattle – they are ecologically sound.
They are also fat-free.
My indigenous friends tell me that they are a good diet for older Australian men who fear they cannot cut the mustard any more.
They do not make men, however, grow vertically.
I have discovered they are delicious if cooked properly, and they have a wonderful bushy, smoking taste.
So, why am I hiding in the wardrobe afraid to go downstairs?
My partner has gone on strike and refuses to cook.
The $2.62 for seven Kanga Bangas came out her money, you see.
Rounded down – $2.60. Very economical BUT I still find the thought of eating Kangas distrurbing. What’s a joey – VEAL? Things – as per usual – sound very bad at your place. The Kanga Banga dispute is symbolic of a toxic power struggle. Go out and buy a big porterhouse – that will, at the very least, get you talking…..KJ.
March 17th, 2009 at 10:31 pm
Help wanted urgently……
Table Talk was Martin Luther’s method of discussing his controversial views.
Now, Table Talk groups are springing up all over the country so people of opposite sex can meet.
One in Newcastle started 17 years ago.
How should one start a conversation across the table when meeting for the first time?
A recent Tavern experience has made me very nervy.
Can anyone assist?
I recommend you take the lead from Dustin.
Just lean across The Table and yell: I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS IS GUNNA WORK, BUT IT BLOODY WELL WILL, IT BLOODY WELL WILL! KJ
March 17th, 2009 at 10:42 pm
I am also in all of your hands for advice…..
Having been lured by Harvie to give what he called ’spicie writie’ to Rev Kev I have been in such a state of gloom that a pall has been cast over me, and all I can hear in Black Mountain are banshees.
How could I sink to the level of the barbarian?
Please if you have any advice on how to jazz up the PM – without offensive references – please offer them now.
Brekkie has picked up my mood and is off his food.
March 18th, 2009 at 8:43 am
Ex-L – I had forgotten all about that Harbour Bridge thing. It was pointed out to me by a resident of Wattle Hill.
As far as venues for that other business goes – a medium-sized and dimly lit country town has all sorts of nooks and crannies.
A golf course, sporting ovals, school grounds – if you have access to a car, any number of deserted country roads. Or, even the euphoniously named Horn Beach.
Dear Roma Street,
As we’ve come to expect, (again) demonstration of local knowledge of the highest order!
Excuse my ignorance, but I’ve NEVER heard of Horn Beach…….where is it?
How do you rate Turkey Flat (big water skiing destination on the Murrumbigee near Yanco) as a romantic venue?
March 18th, 2009 at 9:43 am
KJ,
What !!!!!!! Eating the Porterhouse Steak while listening to Dolly Parton:
Our d-i-v-o-r-c-e becomes final today
Me and little j-o-e will be going away
I love you both and this will be
Pure h-e-double-l for me
Oh, I wish that we could stop this d-i-v-o-r-c-e
March 18th, 2009 at 10:11 am
Roma Street, KJ and Ex-Leetonite,
The picture you are collectively compiling of the Brigadoon of the ‘Bidgee will have nostalgic panel van drivers in their Speedos heading south to Leeton….Camelot for Cuddlers, Mecca for Moochers, Jerusalem for Jujube Jellies and Jaffas.
Is there anything you don’t know about the place Roma Street?
Such romantic names (Turkey Flat!)
Such a Boulevarde for Love (Pine Ave).
Did Henry Kendall ever visit Leeton for material?
A reminder, however, that panel van surfers in Canberra get to use the ‘Bidgee with their girls on the gravel strand ages before the water gets down there.
March 18th, 2009 at 3:58 pm
The channel bank overlooking Cricket Oval No 2 was a favourite parking spot.
Particularly busy in summer when the sprinklers were on.
Streakers paradise.
Hello Ex-Leetonite – CANNOT agree. Home of the WRONG code and too windy. KJ
March 18th, 2009 at 6:03 pm
When you locked the car keys
In the boot, in the boot
I said certain unkind words
I have forgot, yes, forgot.
March 18th, 2009 at 6:42 pm
The words public relations coup come immediately to mind following my sudden transfer to Prime Minister Promotions following an unfortunate misinterpretation of my ‘genitalia’ reference in my speech text for Mr Kevin Rudd.
The ABC 7.30 report with Kerry O’Brien speaks for itself:
O’Brien: We have seen Kevin Rudd the academic, Kevin Rudd the diplomat, Kevin Rudd the party backroom boy, now Kevin the PM. Now we have to ask, what about Kevin the Man – his interests? Mr Rudd do you have any special hobby, any heroes that you can share with us as we go ‘backstage’ with you?
Rudd: I must speak in the affirmative. You ask do I have any special hobby? I answer in the affirmative. Do I have a special hero, an imaginary hero? Again I answer in the affirmative.
O’Brien: And it is?
Rudd: Spider-Man. You ask: Do I have Spider-Man Undies and PJs? I answer in the affirmative. You ask: Do I have a Spider-Man table? Again I answer in the affirmative.
O’Brien: I notice there is a new lamp on the Prime Ministerial Desk, what is it?
Rudd: It is the Spider-Man Colour Changing Table Top Night Light, not for suitable for children under three years of age due to small parts.
O’Brien: Do you see any parallels between politics and Spider-Man?
Rudd: It’s a fight between good and evil. Whoever Spider-Man’s next big-screen antagonist is, he’ll probably be able to fight Peter Parker by drinking him under the table. There he’ll have another villain to confront, Under The Table Top Man.
O’Brien: Thank you for visiting the 7.30 Report, Prime Minister. What are you doing about the Recession, by the way? Are you being effective?
Rudd: Am I fighting the Recession, you ask? Again I answer in the affirmative. I’m putting on my costume as you can see in this video at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmUJM-wscz4
March 18th, 2009 at 8:23 pm
Horn Beach is near Yanco.
Turkey Flat is aka Ski Beach? Is that right?
I doubt I’d go there to perform the mystery dance due to lack of seclusion. It’s a pretty popular spot. You wouldn’t want one of your dad’s mates from the golf club to spot you driving in as he was driving out.
Right Roma Street, Turkey Flat IS Ski Beach. Used to be where the Rowathon finished up. Never entered the Miss Rowathon comp. Miss Melanoma would be more like it. (I think the crazy Rowathon years were before your time…?) KJ.
March 19th, 2009 at 8:58 am
Dear KJ,
Don’t sell yourself short.
Leave that to plenty of other people.
I have a mantra for you KJ. I burn AND rock….say it 100 times a day.
This did not work for me so let me how it goes for you!
The office staff are looking at me. They are wondering: Why is that loser laughing?
* The Geriatric Chick Magnet is making me hyper.
Is there an Under The Table Top Man Club?
(Still laughing)
Boss has just entered office – must flick off.
Dear Marry Me – Thank you. Didn’t realise I was selling myself short but I will now be extra vigilant….KJ
March 19th, 2009 at 10:23 am
Do you realize what you are doing Marry Me?
You leave the talent, KJ, alone or we’ll have another star turn.
You are perfectly 100% KJ. There’s no need for extra vigilance.
Now back to matters managerial. Still no gravatars.
Are you lot so lazy you can’t be bothered with the extra mouse clicks? Is that it? Can’t bring a little colour into this blog. As everybody knows colour and movement are vital.
The new regime of light supervision from KJ is working a treat, I am happy to report.
Thank you Mr O’Slatter – Yes, it’s true – I have thrown away the ABC Moderator’s Handbook, Editorial Guidelines and the (new) Corporate Values Statement. You CANNOT ‘legislate’ for responsibility and maturity. KJ.
March 19th, 2009 at 10:34 am
Dear Marry Me,
Thank you for asking.
Regarding your inquiry…..so far as I know there is no Under The Table Top Man Club.
There may, however, be an association with a Pole & Lap Dancing Club in New York. The Prime Minister’s Itinerary Committee may be able to assist you with further information.
Under The Table Top Man has seriously disturbed my equilibrium.
I am concerned there may be more Under The Table Top Men.
We need to turn the tables on this topic.
March 19th, 2009 at 4:47 pm
The beggar man said, you know my name
From now on things are not the same
The bells are cracked to let in light
Their discordance a blanket for the night
Because you know my name, and it is John.
(You can call me Johnno)
March 19th, 2009 at 10:07 pm
Is it a crime it is for a bard to sing romatically of beg…..?
And do I hear you cry: The poor are always with us…..
My just-add water, fifteen second verse was about what could be called the Riot of Generosity.
Grimy, dressed for all weathers, his possesions hanging from his back, the man was pushing small coins across the wine cellar counter.
There just was not enough.
Ready for dinner after a few lattes the queue waited patiently.
Not for them his rough stuff.
We were on The Card, but not our humble beggar man.
Cash on the line, but not enough.
A few coins short.
I said: Put it on the card.
Another man said: Put it on mine.
A third, then another said: Put it on mine.
The man said: Thank You my name is John, you can call me Johnno.
He had almost caused a Generosity Riot.
He only accepted the difference between his little pile of cash and what was owed.
March 20th, 2009 at 5:43 am
TGM,
What is happening in the Creative Trailer on Black Mountain, please?
March 20th, 2009 at 11:15 am
KJ,
Thanks for asking:What is happening there please?
Just a celibate man, a lappie and Brekkie the dog – and a pocketful of dreams.
I have one intro in the lappie…
You ask me, am I sincere? Again, I answer in the affirmative.
You ask me, can I stimulate? Again I answer in the affirmative.
I read it out to Breakfast, in my sincerest voice.
As George Burns said: Sincerity is the thing, once you fake that you got it made.
Brekkie, most loyal of dogs, growled deep in his throat.
A magpie, Maggie, has joined us outside.
She is the mystic oracle of Canberra, and she was here when the tribes gathered on the limestone plain below.
Maggie is a bit exhausted after driving away an eagle, but she will speak to me.
In the distant mountains, animals are getting ready to put on their winter underdaks.
Soon, Canberra’s European trees will start to dress in autumnal red and gold.
I speak most sincerely, KJ.
Loneliness is a spicy sauce for thought.
March 20th, 2009 at 12:45 pm
Tap, tap on the lappie:
The Einfeld Memorial Address (Draft)
You ask have I ever been speeding ?
If by that statement you mean did I take amphetamines during my years of study then I must answer in the negative unless you mean No Doze or caffeine.
If by that statement do you mean I left speedily from a New York place of entertainment then I must answer in the affirmative.
If by that statement you mean you mean have I ever been guilty of speeding in a motor vehicle I must say without fear of contradiction that I do not have suficient documentation to hand to answer in either the negative or the affirmative.
You ask what do I think of current developments in sentencing? Let me say that I tend to respond in the affirmative because when human rights advocacy descends from the judicial to the consumer section of the Corrective Services system there may be many benefits in the longterm, system-wise.
March 20th, 2009 at 1:50 pm
Tappie on the lappie…
(Draft speech to Greek and Macedonian community of Broome, WA).
You ask do I support the claim, made in today’s news, that Alexander the Great is buried in a cave in Broome?
Let me just say – although I learned Ancient Greek in my studies – and I may be able to read the inscriptions myself, I do not have sufficient documentation to answer in the affirmative.
A new member of my staff, Professor G.I.N. German, late of Trinity College, Dublin has written in perfect Attic the following lines:
Someone lies in a cavern
Over a wine-dark sea
It is not you and it cannot be me.
Then who, the stiff of whom,
Lieth in that gloom?
Is it Alex the King
Who sleeps in Broome?
The bringing of the potato scallop to Australia by Greek voyagers has long fascinated me, and I await further research on this topic.
March 20th, 2009 at 2:48 pm
I might be older than I seem, KJ, because in fact I attended many a Rowathon in my younger years. Never as a competitor, though.
March 20th, 2009 at 3:47 pm
I’m sitting at my desk.
I’m smiling.
TGM may be mistaken about the longevity of Maggie but I can agree there is very real mystery in them there Canberra hills.
Several years ago, I took a group of students to the National Capital.
It was a hot day.
On Mount Ainslie, there was a very strange sight indeed.
A couple of enterprising jokers had hacked into a nearby electricity source from down a gully and were selling ice-creams from a rusty caravan that would make TGM’S ON LOCATION Leeton trailer look like five-star accommodation.
My kids all wanted something cold but no cash was to be had.
I offered a school cheque – it was promptly accepted and a receipt written on a paper bag. It’s always been a mystery to me why the Government auditor accepted the receipt without a murmur.
Black Mountain is also beyond understanding. WHY Telstra Tower is an attraction is beyond ME.
Miserable weather conditions, high school students always spitting from upper levels on younger ones and the cost!
Take care TGM………
A man as sincere as you deserves better.
March 20th, 2009 at 6:44 pm
Dear Meg,
There was once a sawmill in that gully. I think I also tapped into the power source.
Ainslie people are very resourceful.
There were blue wrens in the wattle.
Thank you for your kind words.
March 20th, 2009 at 11:17 pm
The dust swirls, the magpies croon and wail,
with a careless keyboard flourish a sibyl awakes.
Portentously cloaked in a Canberra cavern,
laptop in attendance, wireless ready.
The stuffed men are still waiting for a bang.
Dear Mad & Menopaused,
May your hormones NEVER EVER settle down! Work like this CANNOT emerge from the safe corridors of equilibrium. KJ
March 21st, 2009 at 9:36 am
Dear M & M,
Maggie gave me such a saucy look this morning.
I think the jig is up.
March 21st, 2009 at 9:57 am
Billy, Billy, Billy O’Gravatar,
I have been looking into the gravatar situation as part of a Toffler examination of the accelerative thrust of technology.
For eg, in the Sydney Morning Herald, there is a serious story in the Business Section about the sale of cattle properties in the Top End.
The reader immediately thinks of wild steers, cattle dogs, Aboriginal stockmen…..charging horses.
Big bucks, big corporations, big Brahman bulls….
But wait, there’s a gravatar…..
Of the rear end of a sleepy dairy cow with her udders bursting to be milked, probably near Leeton.
The gravatar of a cow’s arse really lifts the story.
March 21st, 2009 at 10:08 am
Dear Greek and loving it,
Are you heading for a tavern, or a cavern in Broome, perhaps containing Alex the Big?
Please report in.
If you are up in that cavern: Come Down Immediately!
If you are high in that taverna: Come Down At Once!
March 21st, 2009 at 10:54 am
Just say the word MAGGIE and I’m away!
And I bet – Ex-Leetonite and Roma Street – LIKEWISE.
MAGGIE, MAGGIE, MAGGIE!!!
Leeton is undisputedly the MAGGIE dive-bombing capital of the world.
The MAGGIE squadrons launch their despicable missions from the trees in Mountford Park.
There is nothing more traumatic than having a rice seed fuelled MAGGIE land on your head and proceed to pick, pick, pick…wings flapping wildly.
There is no chirp, chirp, chirp - instead, a blood curdling hoo wa, hoo wa, hoo wa.
Shopping (some of it, intimate items) goes everywhere and your only thought: I will learn braille, I WILL learn braille……
Your arms are now fully engaged – convulsively. Shit, shit, oh shit, shit….!
MAGGIE flies off: WHOOSH, WHOOSH!
MAGGIE returns and the whole blood curdling saga goes on a loop.
The saddest thing.
There are other people in Mountford Park BUT no-one wants to become involved in just another MAGGIE-CITIZEN dogfight.
MAGGIE takes off again: WHOOSH, WHOOSH!
You are running, running HARD.
Every tree enroute home a potential booby trap. Every MAGGIE, a long-range bomber ready to target, to maim.
In through the front gate. No shopping, no paddle pop, no nothing……
Into the arms of Gwennie.
I don’t know where this’ll all end up with the MAGGIES KJ, I really don’t……..
March 21st, 2009 at 11:35 am
KJ,
I do not accept that Leeton MAGGIES are more deadly than Canberra maggies, having evaded on my bike A.C.T MAGGIES by whirling a schoolbag around my head.
I had a pet MAGGIE who attacked my uncle when he returned from fighting the Japs.
MAGGIE hated men. She would put her little claws around their kneecaps….and peck, peck, PECK.
She was okay with women and children.
One day MAGGIE went missing.
I scoured the bush night and day – No MAGGIE.
Just before he died, my father admitted that he had brought home a ferret a mate gave him in the RSL club.
Ferrie ate MAGGIE.
I am still upset about this.
*Like TGM, I can talk Maggie talk and have had many a conversation with the little critters.
I know comparisons are not good, and I hesitate to rubbish the fighter pilots of Leeton.
HOWEVER, I do know how you can detect whether someone is a local in Canberra or Leeton.
Look at the top of their ears. If they are unscathed, they are NOT a local.
I am thinking of starting a Magpie Embassy in Canberra, and inviting Mr K. Rudd.
Did you know that MAGGIES listen to other birds and pass on messages?
Did you know they take off and defend other birds against eagles, crows and currawongs?
Ah, how I miss MAGGIE.
Dear Mr Chadwick, you must forgive your dear dad. He was at the club and a ferret just happened to fall off the back of a truck……
He thought: Company for my boy, company for my boy…..
HOW could your dad tell you at the time of MAGGIE’s disappearance that he had introduced a cold-blooded killer into your cosy home?
You had already lost too much….. KJ
March 21st, 2009 at 11:45 am
Maggie’s out there, son
Maggie’s out there
Looking for worms, boy
Maggie’s out there
Hopping on branches
Maggie’s out there
I know you cried, but
Maggie’s out there
The cat has died but
Maggie’s out there
Jack Davy’s on the radio
Maggie’s out there……..
March 21st, 2009 at 1:19 pm
Hi Dude, KJ, and other admirers,
Appreciate that I’m being missed but don’t you know it’s LENT?
I’m not allowed to go to the butchers let alone enjoy myself on the blog.
I think reading is OK and I think smiling is OK but, according to a Father Alex, raucous laughing is out.
If my mother catches me writing on my computer I will be exiled to the chicken wire fig tree enclosure for a week.
NOT FUNNY but at least no MAGGIES can get in…….
I’ll be here in spirit (unless my avatar takes over which could happen)
BTW – PLEASE, if you are not Greek visit your local Greek butcher today.
I would hate them to go out of business….what with Lent on top of the recession.
Dear Greek and loving it – OF COURSE I know it’s Lent. NOT dating for 40 days and 40 nights will surely kill me, it surely will….KJ.
March 21st, 2009 at 1:47 pm
Maggie just said:
Awaragool, awaragool,awaragool
Which means:
There’s an eagle in the air!
In the trees of Black Mountain the birds fell silent, flattening their wings and looking to the sky.
Maggie then said:
Coolawarrah, coolawarrah, coolawarrah
Which means:
Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding.
Eee, eee, eee, eee…..
Which means:
All clear, and there’s a grub over there.
March 21st, 2009 at 2:32 pm
Hi Greek and loving it, thank you for responding.
The vision of you – Helen of the Hellenes – imprisoned behind a chicken wire enclosure with only fig leaves for covering conjured very non-Lenten thoughts which I have to disclose in the Confessional.
I think the Greek butchers are having a very good time this Lent, sitting on their comfortable posteriors – drinking coffee and ouzo, while the women do all the work. Because, as we all know, it is irreligious for men to do any hard physical work during the redemptive season.
Further their supple Greek minds should be free to discuss philosophy, theology, tavli, and….the way that woman looked at me you could tell she is either an unhappy person or has the evil eye.
They also know that come Easter the good Theos will fill their customers with lamb and their wallets with money.
March 21st, 2009 at 3:50 pm
Has this ever happened to you?
Some years ago – when I was a cub reporter – I left home for work as per usual.
It was a sunny day and I had on my shoulder a standard ABC-issue Sony Recorder.
Suddenly, on the pavement outside my flat, I was under BUDGERIGAR attack!
Double shock – bird attack AND surprise species.
Things I can tell you: An angry budgerigar one centimetre away from your eyes looks very much like a crazed toucan. Budgerigars love hair. I lost a lot of hair that day. Budgerigars, unlike MAGGIES, attack just once but it is a very concentrated assault. Budgerigars are very difficult to dislodge.
DON’T expect sympathy if you are the victim of a Budgerigar attack.
I mentioned that I was carrying recording equipment because during the Budgerigar horror- with my arms going every which way – the Sony flew off my shoulder onto the road – CRACK!
When I got to work (in a very nervy state) I immediately explained the woeful sequence of events to Chief-Of-Staff, Lennie.
You’re here to report stories KJ, NOT make’ em up, not make ‘em up……
March 21st, 2009 at 4:56 pm
KJ,
A likely story.
I came up with some goodies when I was late for work.
Pity you were not reporting in for a News Ltd tabloid because YOU would have been THE story:
My Day of Horror:
KILLER BUDGIE
or…..
HAIR HUNTING
BUDGERIGAR
ON THE LOOSE
Mr Chadwick – I would NOT lie, particularly during Lent. It happened. I wish someone would come forward who has also been attacked by a budgerigar…..KJ
March 22nd, 2009 at 5:54 am
Hello everybody,
Tutor help answer questions. Love Tutor. See how good she make me.
Yes, I have challenge. Girlfried in bed with Emmanual (from the buck’s night) NO GOOD. This is why I land in my new country with heavy heart.
Romance always on mind…..
(Fabio says Big Stretchy is sexpot cos he got big hair).
EXOTICA - thank you KJ for groovy new word.
Lovely to every one I know on KJ’s blog, especially to my new friend The Ginger Bread Man.
Hello Fabio – great to hear from you. By the way, have you ever been attacked by a BUD-GER-I-GAR-CHIRP-CHIRP?
March 22nd, 2009 at 6:03 am
Dear KJ,
You have helped Fabio so much. He would like to expose himself over time.
Attention, Marry Me. Here is a Stimulatin’ Package on the loose.
The Tutor.
March 22nd, 2009 at 10:13 am
God is kind.
Here I am under the doona with Brekkie, suffering from writer’s block (worst case I ever saw) and along comes Fabio with the best example of Ethnic Language I have seen.
THEN along comes Tutor with the promise of gradual exposure to genius.
I take the lappie to the lavvie but the lavvie is dry…
And I sit there, a good ol’ boy drinking whiskey and rye singing: This will be the day that I die. This will be the day that I die….
MAGGIE has moved in to keep an eye on us.
March 22nd, 2009 at 10:18 am
Get out of Canberra IMMEDIATELY TGM.
Five days is enough to drive anyone insane and you’ve been there three times already.
Do you plan on visiting The National Gallery? It’s always on the school excursion itinerary. Why I don’t know. It’s a mystery. Ask MAGGIE.
The kids are given a folding camp chair, a guide who has volunteered to look as much like Betty Churcher as possible and told to follow in single file on a whirlwind tour of viewing our greatest – or visiting – art treasures.
One time (as always) I’d prepped the 25 students up.
I told them to expect nudity. I told them about Blue Poles and Whitlam.
I told them to expect the unexpected. I told them the answers to the same questions I’d heard in the twenty years I’d been going there…..can’t have country kids looking dumb.
Suddenly, an alarm went off. A self taught pilot of mine, Shaun was sitting on his chair inside the laser barrier trying to get a closer look as he couldn’t see no bloody blue poles from so far back.
We then whizzed past a nude and sexually graphic Stacks on the Mill. Lots of giggles and frequent circular bypassing.
Then onto a Japanese exhibit – a 3×4m tent made of human hair.
No, I hadn’t prepared them for that.
“Betty” was equally unprepared for Shaun asking how the short and curlies were woven into the tent walls.
End of tour.
Dear Megsy, wouldn’t be surprised if Shaun has gone onto a stellar curatorial career. What a guy!
* In my time at St Joseph’s, Leeton, only one excursion – but TWO sites of interest visited in one day….the Narrandera Flour Mills and the Ardlethan Tin Mines. Quite good.
March 22nd, 2009 at 11:22 am
Dear Meg,
Shaun is an asker of the Obvious Question.
I tried once to sell Whitlam a creation called Green Popsicles, which used a mixture of absinthe and green-tinted linseed oil with which I covered myself and rolled on a canvas for several hours.
It was not accepted.
I was prepared to stand with the work as The Living Green Popsicle.
Perhaps I should return to the Yarts.
Those tents certainly are ecologically friendly, must say.
Shaun has perhaps matured now. Wonder where he is? Politics?
Questions without Notice from him would be very satisfying.
Loved your tale. A classic.
Note from KJ: Do you know where Shaun is now, please?
March 22nd, 2009 at 11:38 am
Dear KJ, TGM and all of the art lovers in here…..
Shaun?
Whereabouts UNKNOWN.
I should have repeated him but I DID NOT.
March 22nd, 2009 at 11:43 am
Hair tents from Japan? Must have used up the whole of the Gross Domestic Product.
I do not think the Tokyo production of Hair! used local actors and singers.
Recreation of the musical from the hippie days can cause offence to those who are follicularly challenged.
The lyrics need a rewrite:
She asks me why…I’m just a baldy guy
I’m baldy noon and night, Baldy, that’s a fright.
I’m baldy high and low,
Don’t ask me why – don’t know!
It’s not for lack of head
Like the Grateful Dead; darling……
Gimme a head with skin, much beautiful skin
Shining, gleaming, steaming, baldy, waxen
No Hair! NO Hair! (hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair)
Shine it, show it……..
Long as God can’t grow it, NO Hair!
March 23rd, 2009 at 3:41 pm
Chadwick,
Very clever so thanks.
I do not know what security that tent of human hair was given on its journey to NGA.
I hope it’s not in a basement somewhere.
Imagine the shock for some poor junior curator fifty years from now.
Dear Megsy – Any nice bird stories, please?
I assured management that our What Bird Did That Week? would be a community-building exercise. Fat chance at this stage of the game, fat chance!! KJ