Be Glad You are not Married To Me!!

Picture the scene, Sunday morning, Its a beautiful day outside, birds in trees, no clouds etc.

*Mike gives a sigh*

Jacqui: "Whassup?"

Mike: "Oh, nothing. Just the sudden realization that I am mortal, and will one day die"

Jacqui "???!!!"

Women of the World, give thanks to Jacqui, from sparing one of your number this fate...

Be Good

Be Glad You are not Married To Me!!

Merry Christmas, have a pay rise!

Hi,

Y'know how when you pull a brick on piece of elastic, nothing happens then you get a face full of brick?

Well.....

I have worked as a Radiographer at Hawkes Bay for 3 and a half years. In that time I have done what I consider to be "the job", in other words, a lot more that is written on my position profile.

I have always thought that you get out of any job what you put in, so whenever any opportunity came up to do a bit extra, I did.

This started with Health and Safety stuff, then departmental documentation, then some computer stuff etc.

My role changed from a basic "MRT" (Medical Radiation Technologist) to MRT (PACS superuser) PACS is the system we have for storing and retrieving digital images, to MRT Angiographer (cardiac) PACS Superuser.

All good clean fun. Job became bigger, but more rewarding. Pay didn't really go up much, but that really wasn't a concern. I could feed my family, and I don't believe in chasing the dollar.

Anyway, my PACS boss gets pregnant,(thanks Jack) and I take on her role in February for initially 6 months. Which feels like a vindication for the extra I put in. Lovely!!

Then my manager resigns. This I am pissed off with, because I really like working for her, and I will miss her input and stuff.

Then...

The Manager (acute services) and clinical head of my department ask me to apply!! and I am "acting up" until the job has been decided on!!!!

This is nice, if terrifying..

So in a 3 month period I go from MRT to Charge MRT (acting) which is a 75% increase in pay!!!!

So I bought an xbox 360, and tickets to go back to the UK to see the olds..

There is no guarantee that this post is going to be mine. I would be surprised if it was, in which case I go back to PACS administrator (acting), and there is no guarantee that THAT role will not go (if the PACS admin comes back after her baby full time)...

So in 8 months I could be back where I started.

Not really, because as long as I do the absolute best I can in whatever role I am allocated, I will have gained a shedload of experience..

I also have the knowledge that my Big Boss thinks that I candle these roles, even if only temporarily..

Which is a real pat on the back, and that is nice

Be Good

Teddy Bears and Hidden Agendas

Hi,
It never ceases to amaze me how really stupid people are. You may have heard about the Brit schoolteacher working in Sudan who managed to become embroiled in a diplomatic shit storm after getting arrested for insulting Islam.

Her Crime? Allowing her school class to name a teddy bear Mohamed.

Now the Muslim takes the graven image thing much more seriously than does the average Christian. You cannot paint God. The reason is that God said not to in one of the 10 commandments. You also cannot make a representation of Mohamed, in case it gets worshipped. In fact, in many Muslim cultures you are forbidden to paint any living thing, or naturalistic environment.

This is why in many Islamic countries their artwork is based on geometry and calligraphy. (And beautiful it is too). To a non-Christian, the puzzling thing is why Christan's tend to ignore this prohibition, rather why the Muslims follow it, but I digress.

Naming a teddy bear Mohamed is wrong under the strict interpretation of Sharia law that they follow in the Sudan. But here is where I lose the thread. The Teacher didn't name the bear, her pupils did. Now I am not suggesting that the children be punished, but what about their parents? Surely they are responsible for the religious teaching of their kids? If not the kids parents, who did teach them? Their Imam? Jail him!

The kids took a poll, so it wasn't one rogue apostate. It was most of them. If this was such a terrible insult, why didn't these kids know? I mean, if a Christan kid wanted to name the class hamster "Satan, destroyer of worlds" I am sure there would be a little murmur of dissension? So whats going on.

The teacher worked in a school where the pupils were mixed Christian and Muslim. Sudan is a country where the north is Muslim, the south Christian, and they hate each other with a passion. they have had wars and stuff, and there is at the moment a very uneasy peace. There is another thread. The British used to run the Sudan.

There is always someone who prefers conflict to peace. If you are an empty, soulless shit head, there is a happy glow from hatred that fills the hole where the love should be. I would try to feel pity for these people, but I cannot be bothered to try. Nothing makes these type of people happier that having someone to despise. In Zimbabwe, their asshole of a President manages to cling to power buy telling the people that Britain is sabotaging the economy, and wants to regain control, giving his people the unseen, external enemy that every tyrant needs. In Sudan the enemy is Britain and Christan's.

Enter a British, Christan teacher working in a school trying to reconcile the warring factions who made the mistake of allowing her pupils to make a minor gaffe over the naming of a teddy bear. So why do you thing she was arrested?

She is home now, after British Muslims protested vigorously at the injustice. In fact, every single other Muslim country condemned this act of stupidity. Though in Sudan, some people wanted her killed, but what are you gonna do? There are assholes everywhere

A Night on The Ocean Wave

Hi,
It is a shock, but Christmas is around the corner! I still have yet to get used to it being hot and sunny in November, and my psychology still isn't in a festive mood.
So it was with some confusion that I went on our departmental Christmas outing. Collinda, our resident Nuclear Medicine boss and all round good egg, organised us to go out on a jet powered catamaran onto the bay, and have a meal, a dance and a drink.
It was a blast. Because of some creative fundrasing, there was a 400 dollar bar tab, for 20 of us. Stunning!
And the views from the boat of the absolutely gorgeous Hawkes Bay made the award winning Matariki Chennin Blanc swill down with aplomb.
Fantastic!!
Then food was up, it was a buffet affair, but it hit the spot and now to the dance floor.
Less Good!!
Because I don't dance. Even whilst drunk I can't dance. I am aware that I am a 39 year old straight white male, which precludes me from any grace. I am also short, and "stocky", so grace quota in the dumps, and I am Welsh.
Therefore I am to dancing what Swartzennegger is to elocution.
So I do what I always do. I sit at the edge of the floor, and watch others gyrate whilst drinking.
Later on I gave a nice lady a hug. She has had a crappy year, and needed a hug. So I provided the hug, and I felt virtuous about it. The world needs more hugging.
I like to spread the love.
Not spreading love were the other occupants of the boat. A bunch of early 20 somethings, who got drunker and louder as night wore on, and there was aggro bubbling under the surface between one of them, a tall, thin guy, and I think his girlfriend.
Anyway, I was walking to the bar, when my eye was caught by this bloke arguing with his girlfriend. She was giving him "the Finger", and he was trying to grab her finger, I assume in order to hurt her. I will never know, because he obviously saw me looking. The next thing he is toe to toe with me, looming over me, and explaining "Why don't you watch where you are looking little man, before you get hurt"
Now in such situations, you often think of great pithy one liners, but usually afterwards in the bar, But that night, inspiration hit me...
"Why don't you fuck off, you lanky streak of piss, before I make you look stupid in front of your mates"
Now I am not tall, I am 5' 6", but I know what I am capable of, and I can size up the opposition quickly. I did Karate for a number of years, I was a Prop Forward, and I went to a shockingly shitty school, which means I can fight a bit.
Here are a few rules.
1.Hard nuts don't tell you that they will hit you, they hit you.
2.Anyone worth his salt doesn't' stand 4 inches from their opponent with his arm by his side leading with his jaw.
I could have decked him in a second, and he wouldn't have stood a chance.
All of a sudden, his mates pulled him away, and I was surrounded by all of my mates.
Bless'em! They were looking out for me!
One of his mate came to see me to apologise. I told him it was cool, but me better calm that guy down, or he would get hurt. By me.
I saw him later, all apologies, so that was OK.
ALL IN ALL, A BRILLIANT NIGHT!!

Be Good

Kicking over the Anthill

Hi,

I love my computer, not in a physical sense, but I use it for so much stuff that I like that being without it is like being imprisoned. Odd but there you go.

I also have a low tolerance for frustration. I am one of the sad types that has to be doing something to rectify a problem, even if what I am doing ins't helping.

So the last month my PC has been slowing up, to the point where it is unusable. So I think "Right, reinstall windows, and reformat the hard drive. I think that 4 years of downloading silly little internet games, plus repeatedly un installing and reinstalling programs has left the PC ins a state.

I get all my driver discs, backup my photos, and insert the disk. 30 minutes later I have a factory spec PC, that tales seconds to boot up.

Hooray for me!

Then the fun starts. I reload all the drivers I have, and its all good, I figure I can get any others from the net. So lets get on. I have an external ASDL router, so everything should be OK? It doesn't work!!

????

So I look in the hardware profile, and the Ethernet adaptor hasn't loaded its driver. Oh well, it will be on the factory driver disk, right?

Wrong!!

OK, go to be Mike, sort it in the morning. At 06:00, I am up, can't sleep, PC is pissing me off.So I go do my morning workout, and an hour later, I am on the phone to a bloke from Bangalore asking him to set up my dial up, so I can get on the net to download the driver to get on the net.

It doesn't work. So I look in the hardware profile, and the PC modem drivers aren't on there.

AAAAAARGH!!!

So I look in the boot disk, find those drivers, and get the modem working. I can't get on the net. So I phone my ISP. And here comes my knight in shining armour.

I will call his Anthony, cos that was him name. He not only got me online, but he configured Outlook Express (which I have never used because no one ever told me how) and downloaded the right drivers and e mailed them to me. What a hero!!

My mate came over just as I was finishing, and helped me configure my PC to work. Which it now does!!

I am happy, but its odd looking at a 4 year old PC! I am unsure whether to upgrade the software, because it works, and I don't need to fix something which isn't broke!!

Sorry for the boring blog, but this WAS A BIG DEAL FOR ME!!

The Welshman and The Black Dog

Hi all,
Read something written by my famous countryman Richard Burton "Show a Welshman 100 exits, he will choose the one marked "self destruction". Funny that, considering his own demise.

There is something melancholy about my culture though, I think it is the knowledge that for most of us this is all we will ever have. Born in village, go to pit/steelworks, get girl pregnant, have kid , drink/smoke yourself to death. Of course that has all changed now, now you can substitute work in heavy industry for B&Q/Draw the dole, and heroin for booze. Progress eh?

I chose a different path, and yet I am well aware that that was my alloted path too, if my parents had been less adept at making us think for ourselves and a bit less hardworking. Funny that. However I have been thinking that I have lost something as well as gained something.

My cousin died over the weekend. His name was Des Gorman, and he was very much older that I , older than my Dad even. Yet he was an intelligent, articulate kind and funny man, and seeing him when I was a child was always a treat. He also spoke with an RAF accent, as he was a tail gunner on Lancs in the war. He was shot down 3 times, and lived to get captured by the Nazis, lucky for him they were on their knees at the time, so his incarceration was brief. So he was a brave man as well. Now he is no more, and I cant help but think the world, well my world, is a poorer place without him.

I have been thinking there are lots of people I will not see again, and this is sad, but there is always a last time to see someone, and we don't really know when that last time is. It would be nice to remember this, cos I am sure we would all treat each other better if we held that knowledge in the forefront of our minds when we said "see you later, dude"

See Ya Later Dudes!

Mike

Interview with Pontius Pilate

This is an unusual blog for me, as it is an imagined interview with Pontius Pilate done for Myk, who is compiling a thingy with this kind of stuff on it, so here goes:

I travelled back in time, posing as a reporter for the Roman Times to interview Polntius Pilate. I was led into the private chambers of the prefect of Judea, and ultimate power in this part of the Roman Empire. I wanteed specifically to ask him about the trail and forthcoming execution of Jesus of Nazereth, an itinerant preacher from Gallilee.

Me: Good Afternoon, Mr Pilate..
PP: Please, call me Pontius.
Me: Er.. OK Pontius.. May I first say what an honour it is to speak to the repreasentative of Rome...
PP. Please, don't kiss ass, I hate ass kissers, like those bloody Pharisees, bunch of knob jockeys, they allways "Great Leader this and, Hounorable that".. I know that as soon as my back is turned they call me names and stuff. I hate them all!
Me: Errr..
PP. AND THOSE FUCKING SCRIBES!!!
Me: OK, OK, No ass kissing... Jesus..
PP. Oh fuck not him again I tell you I am pissing sick of that guy
ME: Er.. Why?
PP. Those bloody Pharisees have been trying to get me to kill that irritating son of a God for the last week, but I'm having none of it.
Me: What exactly is he charged with?
PP. Sedition. But I am at a loss why the Pharisees are up in arms over this dude..
Me: Er..
PP: Y'see, In he comes, talking 'bout love thy brother, and not judging, and other stuff, and the Pharisees don't give a toss..
Me: Er..
PP: But then he goes and disrupts the buisness, knocking over the money lenders tables and stuff. Now he has thier full attention!
Me: Er...
PP: y'see, it's easy for us Romans, as our religion allows us to do whatever we like, Whatever form of depravity and immorality you want to get up to, there is some God out there who did it first.
Me: Err..
PP: Want to screw your sister?, Jupiter did that, shag a swan?.. Been there done that..Turn into a Bull and..
Me: Yes I get it , I get it..
PP: Dont sas me boy! Ill whup your ass..
Me: Sorry
PP: OK. Where was I? Oh yeah. But Judaism as those moral things, and piety and stuff.
Me: I don't understand..
PP: Well this Jesus guy walks in and points out that the authorities round here ain't following the rules of the game, its got a few guys thinking that the reason thier God has let us guys take over, is because of the shit behaviour of the Pharisees and stuff.
Me: So they are going to kill Jesus because he is setting a good example?
PP: Basically, but disrupting the cash flow really pissed them off
Me: But you could have stopped it
PP: Well the trouble is it is a religious matter, and we allow freedom of religious expression in the Roman Empire. So I had to give it back to them. They only tried to get me to do it so that if it all went tits up, they could blame me. I ain't no fool.
Me: So what happens now?
PP: I told them not to go after this guy, y'see, he is harmless now, he isn't a violent dude, and he isn't even preaching against the rule of Roman Law. There is some stuff 'bout kingdom of Heaven and stuff, but nothing too heavy.
Me: Err..
PP: But as soon as he is dead, then I guarantee that he will become some kind of folk hero, a martyr, and before you know it, those Parisses will have themselves a situation.
Me: So what do you think they will do?
PP: Oh they are going to kill him, humiliate him, to "Set an example" This will come back to bite them on the ass I tell you..
Me: Err
PP: But its his wife and kids I feel sorry for.. Aparently they are in hiding, and going to travel to Gaul on holiday to get over the trauma.. Poor loves, it fills me up I tell you..

At this point I terminated the interview as he needed to compose himself, In a coda to this story, Pilate was brought forward 2000 years to see the results of his actions. This is what he said
PP: Hahahahahahaahaha... I was right! I bloody told them this would come back to bite them on the ass!

Sportio!!

Hello or in Welsh Helo,

Sport.

There was a time when I'd heatedly argue the minutiae of the Welsh Rugby team selection, even when everyone else really wants to talk about Big Brother, or some such totally unimportant topic.

I was obsessed! Every Saturday, Friday, Sunday, and sometimes during the week, I would call my good mates over to watch the slow decapitation of my Beloved Welsh Rugby team, to genuine sympathy from Greg (who is from Cambridge), and genuine rage from Gary, (who is a proud Yorkshireman, and as such hates everything about English Rugby Union). This was my curse, and I really enjoyed it.

But no longer.

Since moving to Napier, I have gradually lost interest in Rugby. At first I was worried, like was there a Viagra type drug that would get me back in the swing again? I still enjoy the game, don't get me wrong, but it no longer really matters to me. I don't crave the game any longer.

Now since living in New Zealand I have grown extremely fond of Gridiron Football, and will watch 4 hours of that game no worries. So, I still like sport. So why am I no longer into Rugby? I think I know what it is. It came to me today. I miss my mates, and I can't enjoy Rugby without them!!

Y'see, Sport has an odd place amongst male social interaction, it is the common touchstone, the thing that allows us to communicate. It is the foundation that supported our friendship.

It is truly amazing what subjects can be got around to from the starting point of "Isn't that Matt Dawson an arse?" Or "Steven Jones cant bloody tackle" or "Jesus, Alfie's an ugly bastard, ain't he?" You can get to love, honour philosophy, religion, cars and Bruce Springsteen's brilliance from this starting point.

Now those with only x chromosomes will see this as further evidence of Man's emotional decrepitude, that sport has to be the gateway to talk about feelings, but that is twaddle. As far as I can see, most women are as crippled emotionally as any man, they deal with it by watching Big Brother and Coronation Street and acting as if they believed the stories are true!

So what does this mean, I hear you ask. I really don't know, there is a huge sport and Blues lined, Greg, Gary and Leighton filled hole in my life, that I am currently filling with extended games of Rome Total War, but I know that is but a temporary solution.

I will just have to get more mates, so I can get drunk and bore them as well.

Be good,

Mike

ps THis was written a year ago, and I can now say the blues filled void has been partly filled, but people willing to listen to me drone on about Rugby are still thin on the ground.

Ah well, never mind

Culture and Empire

Hello,

I am Welsh. Wales was the very first country to be annexed into what later became the British Empire, in the 12th Century.

Basically, like any good Mafia film, the Good Don, who was called Llewellyn the Second, was lured onto the turf of the Bad Boss, Edward "Long-shanks" (For those who saw Brave heart, that was that nasty Patrick McGoohan) for a little "chat" about nothing in particular. He murdered the Prince, and annexed my country.

Water under the bridge now, but basically for all intents and purposes I was a Brit. But I AM ALSO WELSH.

Now I am not going to apologies for the bloody Empire OK? IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! However, strange as it may seem, the annexation of my country still has ramifications to the culture and outlook of the Welsh.

We as a people tend to favour the underdog, we are a clannish folk, but we welcome outsiders, as long as they try to fit in. (This doesn't mean learning Welsh and eating Lavabread, just being friendly and sociable).

We have a strong sense of social justice, and we don't like superior types. The downside is that we are an over sentimental, gregarious lot who tend to drink too much, and are prone to acts of random violence, especially on Friday and Saturday night.

Now I live in New Zealand, a truly nice place, with nice people.

New Zealand Social affairs is dominated by relations between Maori, the indigenous peoples of New Zealand, and Pakeha, or non-indigenous New Zealanders, and especially the issue of "Cultural Sensitivity"

Let me explain, I have just been on a course on "cultural sensitivity", and it struck me as being about good manners. Y'see Maori originally were not Christian! and so a lot of the cultural touchstones that Europeans take for granted are altered or augmented when dealing with Maori.

You don't touch the head, it is tapu, or sacred. You don't sit on any area where food or drugs are prepared. You don't put your feet up on tables. You do not wear shoes in the house etc.

Now I am really happy to observe these rules, I do not want to be ill mannered. However, some Pakeha really object to doing this, viscerally.

I don't know why. Maybe they see it as a terrible imposition, I don't know. These same people objected when they brought home the "unknown Warrior" to a Maori ceremony last year. I found it moving personally, but there you go. In fact, these people object to any incorporation of Maori culture into mainstream New Zealand life, except the Haka before the Rugby.

Now I find this strangely familiar, for many years before I came to Aotearoa, the Welsh tried to get bilingual signage in Wales, to allow those of us who have Welsh as their first language the option of not having to translate their street name. I am not an Welsh speaker. My Dad's family are Scots, and my Mam's family are Irish, but I thought the preservation of the Welsh culture was worth fighting for, however, because I believe that cultural diversity is strength.

Many did not, and they fought tooth and nail to prevent even this small resurgence of Welsh culture.

They felt threatened, I think partially because they feel that by defining ourselves as Welsh, that we undermine their choice to define themselves as British, as if they were mutually exclusive. I also believe that some saw it as the unnecessary re-emergence of a beaten people, and the reflex was to crush it.

New Zealands founding document is the Treaty of Waitangi, this legitimised White settlement of Aotearoa, and that gave checks and balances to Pakeha/Maori relations setting out a blueprint for a society based on mutual respect and honour.

As soon as there were enough Pakeha in New Zealand to defeat the Maori in battle, the treaty was interpreted in a way to favour the settlers, or ignored all together as long as it was expedient for the Colonial Government. Many Maori were tricked out of their land.

Over the next 150 years Maori were treated as second class citizens in their own land, denied housing, jobs and education. It is only relatively recently that No Maori Allowed signs have become extinct.

You will hear people say that somehow respecting Maori culture will undermine the social cohesion of New Zealand. How many cultures are there in Britain? Is a Yorkshireman like a Cornishman? Do they have the same culture? There is more cultural similarity between the people of Durham, and the people of South Wales, than there is between the South and North Walians. Does that make us weak as a nation?

I really think not. All that Britain has accomplished has often been because of the diversity in cultures in the UK, not despite it.

Those who object to New Zealand celebrating the Maori culture, and being told to respect Maori beliefs, are acting like the ruling class becoming scared at the resurgence of a culture they thought dead and buried.

Why can't we all be Kiwi's? Because being a Kiwi, and being Maori, or Welsh or Islamic or Chinese are Not Mutually Exclusive. You just have to accept that we all don't have to become a wannabe Pakeha to be a Kiwi.

Art verses Technique

Hello,

I am listening (whilst writing this) to "Like a Hurricane" by Niel Young. Keep that fact in the back of your mind as I write this rant.

I am a guitarist. You can tell this if you look at my page, as I am holding a guitar, and I am in a room with quite a few other guitars in it.

I love the guitar.

I express myself through it better than I ever could with words. I am a guitar nut. Tell me a model of guitar, I can tell you who made it, what factory, who plays that guitar, its scale length and when it was manufactured.

I also have Aspergers Syndrome, (the so called "Trainspotters" disease) this obsessive love and knowledge of guitars is a symptom I know, but it doesn't mean I am going to change. Ha No Way.

So when I was a younger man, I was impressed beyond belief by the neo classical, super fast fret shredders that populated metal band in the 80's and 90's. Faster the better. I mean I still loved guys like Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton and Carlos Santana, but they were not really fast, so I felt kind of guilty liking them. So if a bloke could play a scale quicker than another bloke, this automatically meant bloke A was better than bloke B (and they are ALWAYS blokes!)

Right?

Wrong. I could no longer hide from myself that listening to those lind of players was like listening to the sound of a typing pool. After a while, oh about 5 seconds they were just plain boring! But how could this be? I mean the were sooo fast!

Then it came to me. Playing guitar is not athletics, it is like poetry. No one would say that longer words make a better poem, or the longer the poem, the more enjoyable it is (Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner is shit, read some Tony Harrison, or Shaemus Heany if you don't believe me)

So does technique matter?

I think that if you learn technique, and use it to express yourself, that is great. Trying to play with no knowledge at all would be like me writing poetry in French (which I don't speak), by randomly picking words from the French dictionary, so that the lines conform to Iambic Pentameter. More than likely it will be shit (However, now that I have written this, it sounds like a great idea! I WILL GIVE IT A GO! If any of you speak French, watch out!) but if you use a guitar solo just to expose your technique, that is always terrible.

Without Exception.

And so to Neil Young. In the band I play in we do a few of his tracks. At the start, I was still trying to impress the other members of the band with my virtuosity (such as it is) I really overplayed, and it sounded shite, like someone had sampled a solo from another track, and just dropped it into the song. So now I play to the song, and it don't sound half bad!

So Neil Young shouldn't be any good, I mean he is a technically poor guitarist, and his singing is terrible. Yet I really like listening to him, because he is an absolute genius songwriter and performer.

He would be brilliant still if he could sing like Freddy Mercury, and play like Steve Vai, but I don't know whether he would be any better. What do you think?

Be good

First posted on Yahoo 360

TV in NZ

Good Morning World,

Something is wrong with the world today, it is maybe the one thing that will get me to sream incoherantly at the TV. What is this thing, that will get me incandescant with rage at a nanosecond's notice? Is it hunger? or Racism? or Injustice?

No.

I speak of a horror so total, that if I ever find the people responsible. I will tear out their oesophagus and strangle them with it.

I speak of beauty/hair product advertisements!

Now this world is full of ugly people with bad hair. I know this, as I have a mirror. But the sight of Mila Jojovich or Claudia Schiffer sashaying up to the camera and declaring "I say NO to wrinkles!" or Andie McDowall smugly grinning "Grey? What Grey!" is enough for me to lose my lunch.

The self satisfied, rich, beautiful annoying SWINE! They all need to die NOW!!!

The inference is, YOU!! YES YOU IN THE LEGGINGS AND THE KAPPA KNOCKOFF SWEATSHIRT! YOU ARE UGLY!! BECAUSE OF THIS YOU ARE HAVING NO FUN AND MEDIOCRE SEX WITH A BALDING FAT SWEATY BLOKE! WHO RARELY SHOWERS!! SPEND YOUR DOLE ON THIS GREASY SHITE, RUB IT ON THE POCKMARKED END OF YOUR NECK AND YOU TO CAN GET TO SCREW BRAD PIT!

I Hate These Adverts SOOOOOOOO much I cannotfuckintellyou.

Its a lie. We know they are lying, we live in the world. I have eyes, for Christs sake!

Why are there no fat people in Chocolate ad's. (I LOVE chocolate, I would be the perfect endorse!) Why, when you see ads for booze do you never see a gang of blokes fighting in the street? or a fat girl crying in the toilets, or a teenager covered in vomit trying to get in a nightclub? Why isn't the slogan for Stella, "Drink 10 pints then go home and beat your wife!?" WHY DO THEY LIE? WE ALL KNOW THE REALITY!

The problem is in New Zealand that all TV is paid for by advertising. So every 10 minutes (and I really am NOT exaggerating) you have a set of ads, a large proportion of which are for beauty and hair products.

This is bad enough, it ruins any film you want to see, but the adverts are the same adverts in the same order every time!! AAAAAARGH! Even worse, they obviously charge bugger all for an ad, so you get ads on for a shop that sells truck headlights in Christchurch on my TV. I mean, WHY, IN THE NAME OF ALL THATS HOLY WOULD I GO TO CHRISTCHURCH TO BY HEADLIGHTS FOR MY TRUCK? How would I get there? IT'S TWO DAYS DRIVING AWAY!! and my truck has a broken headlight.

I don't actually own a truck, but that is beside the point. I miss British TV soooo much. thee telly here is all old Brit or American shows, and when you start to get sick of 5 year old Eastenders they stick on something homegrown to make you realise what quality drama Eastenders really is (all who know me know how much I hate Eastenders) I live in the land that gave us The Lord Of The Rings, but they cant do TV for toffee. It is the visual equivalent to listening to Welsh language rock music.

I feel much better now, my wife has come in with my happy pills, and they are letting me outside to play today! Hooray!

See You Soon

Mike

ps THis is an old 360 blog, I am moving to Multiply/Blogger because Yahoo suck

Rugby: Why The Best Team Isn't The Best Team

Hi,
I was a Rugby player. Not a very good one, but I did play for 8 years at Tight Head, and like all retired players I know absolutely everything there is to know about the game.

Last week, the NZ All Blacks, steaming hot favourites to win the World Cup, played a French side that had not looked convincing in the last year, and had been stuffed by the AB in their previous 3 meetings.

THe AB's had over 70% possession, over 75% territory and made under 40 tackles to the French's' 180+. With those stats, it should have been a drubbing. But no!!

The All Blacks LOST!!

It's hard to overemphasize the hurt and shock that all AB fans feel. Needless to say people vented their frustration out by burning their shirts, and threatening to watch cricket.

There were a couple of refereeing decisions that may have helped the French. A harsh penalty and 10 minute sin binning for a shoulder charge on a player without the ball (you can't block in Rugby, my American friends) and a missed forward pass (ditto).

But I will say I thought the French deserved their victory, and the only people to be blamed are the players, and specifically the Captain. Not the Ref, or the Coach, or even the French.

Me saying this in public in work didn't go down well, to say the least, and it is lucky that the woman who interviewed me for my promotion was English.

The AB's pride themselves on their attractive, flowing Rugby. Not for them the kicking game, its all flash and guile, skill and speed. Which is great up until you get involved in a dogfight, a toe to toe ass kicking contest. In these nasty, hard physical tight games the AB are awful. Against our amphibian cousins they tried to pass the ball over the goal line, and the way the Frencjh were playing, they could still be at it, and the French wouldn't let them score.

The English know how to win these games. Get into the 22 meter line, and drop a goal. Not pretty, but neither is going home a fortnight early.

If I was the Coach, I would sack the captain, and give this specific reason. He Didn't Win The Big One.

"Winning is everything in sport, otherwise it would be called therapy" Dr Jim Pauling

Refugee

Hi,
Although this is my first Blogger blog, it is not the first time I have blogged. Y'see I was an avid blogger on Yahoo 360, right up until the buggers pulled the plug on the service last week.
Oh apparently it will be "consolidated" and "streamlined" I don't believe it. It will be a weak facebook clone, and I want no part of it.
So I have been looking at other sites to see how they measure up. This one looks OK so far. I will see how it posts

See Ya