Ho, Ho, Ho, Halloween!

Despite there being no tradition of Halloween in Australia, you can't blame a few kids getting it into their heads that donning a witch's hat, a ghoul's mask or some such, and dashing about with a plastic bag screeching "Trick or Treat!" mightn't be such a bad idea tonight, if there's even just one apple and a tic tac to be made out of the venture. After all, Halloween's not an Aussie tradition, but begging and opportunism is well ingrained in the Aussie psyche.

So I wasn't surprised to find a ghoul, a goblin, a witch and some other creature - not quite sure what - turned up at Maria's doorstep with not-too-threatening giggles and a very Halloweenish chant of "Nice house you've got here!"

Y'see, the Aussie version of trick or treat seems to have been adapted to suit our culture even more - instead of threatening, suck up amazingly and it'll get you further.

Impressed I was; unfortunately, I wasn't prepared. Last year two boys in zomblie clothing had turned up and I gave them muesli bars and eucalyptus lollies.

This time I was lucky enough to dig up a nutri-grain bar (at least it's got a choc-topping) and a Cherry Ripe Bar for each of the kids. I thought I'd better come up with something sweet, because they were being chaperoned by a taller witch who, while she didn't beg for sweeties, might have not been so pleasant and calm had I not given her underlings sugarcoated treats.

I hope it were enough. If I never blog again, you'll know I've been mutated into something that can't blog.

Books, glorious books!

I don't know where it was first coined, but I first saw the word "biblioholism" in the book Biblioholism (whaddya know?) by Tom Raabe, describing the addiction of buying books. And of reading books. Hmm, that sounds like me, I thought at the time. Except I was a bit put off buying too many books at the time because I hadn't that much money and a big percentage of it had been locked down in my Commonwealth Bank Dollarmite account.

But I could well attest to many of the sensations and habits described by the author.

The feeling of headiness when you walked out of a bookstore laden with books?

The sneaking of books into class and reading them under the table?

The feeling of discomfort when you're caught on a train, in a restaurant, in a doctor's waiting room WITHOUT A BOOK? (nightmare nightmare nightmare)

So when I met Mr Coffee one of the most attractive things about this gorgeous figure apart from that sweet candystriped shirt and the fact he insists on wearing one green contact lens and one purple contact lens out to parties, was that he's afflicted with the same addiction.

We both can relate to it, which is great because we don't judge each other and we're perfectly understanding, and it's bad because we don't try to help each other, instead we feed each other's habit to buy lots and lots of books.

On the other hand, what's wrong with lots and lots of books?

Except for the fact that my bookshelves are showing a distinct curve where they aren't bearing the weight so well, it's all good.

We've been compiling lists of books we haven't had time to read because we're too busy buying more, and the list is rather long.

No matter, I say. Look, there's a 35% off sale! Can't miss out on that!

Besides, who'd want all your books READ?

Then you'd have to go out and buy more if you wanted to read! It's essential to have a large number of unread books on the shelf. Makes plenty of sense!

I'm planning my next romp on Borders for Thursday. Just for them to be warned.

Railing against CityRail

Now as a non-driver I've always relied on public transport and walking, much to my detriment.

My feet show huge sores that are mocked by car-drivers, and I have been psychologically scarred by exposure to inane meaningless mobile chatter while aboard rail.

Some people have asked me about my refusal to drive a fuel-chugging car. Is it environmental responsibility? The more cynical suggest it may be lack of money and me wanting to imbibe lots of alcohol on late nights out.

In fact it is none of these . It is sheer laziness and incompetence. I can't drive.

Oh and a bit of fear. Who knows what might mappen when you hit the accelerator? Doesn't that mean the car moves fast and then anything could happen couldn't it gosh you could die or worse still you could crash Mum's car and hit the neighbour's cat and never hear the end of it.

These kinds of fears keep me from ever testing the wheel.

So I ride the rail and the buses and let others take my life into their hands. At least they can have it out with Mrs Harris if they run over Mitzy and that is a load off my mind already.

Anyway this dependence on public transport means I am alert to the price of tickets, constantly.

Fares have gone up recently which is disgusting and outrageous stuff.

I am very much in favour of the low-cost ticket, or in fact free public transport.

I think there are many good arguments for this.

Actually there always are if you can get something out of it, however I believe this is a special case. For instance, we already pay taxes, unless your name is Jamie Packer and I think he owns his own private rail system so he doesn't count. So having very high tickets is unnecessary unless you're an incompetent and foolish government.

Oh well they've always got an excuse.

Also, the CityRail experience is not exactly a thing of beauty and a joy forever. In fact it is not even the basic standard I would expect from a Government.

The trains are always late and there is no government-supplied entertainment in the bleak waiting periods. John Watkins really ought to be strapped to a train and see what happens to him. It probably doesn't leave the depot, it stays there because that week was scheduled for trackwork and buses replaced trains "allow 30 minutes extra for travel time please".

After trackwork everything looks worse than when the trackwork started.

The voices which announce train timetables have irritating lilts.

The graffiti in CityRail is unoriginal and unamusing. I have read "Rave naked near a blue light" too many times now.

Train seats are not wide enough to accommodate Australia's obesity problem. Too many times I have got into a train to see a large person plonk down on a threeseater and take up most of the seat, and watch their flab expand over into the aisle. Then they chomp at a chocolate.

It is at the times when I watch this that I think about whether I ought to risk running over Mitzy.

P.S. I have been railing against the trains for awhile, but the writing of this post was prompted by a terrific post by TimT at Fastest Underwear in the West

"The Used Ink Tank is Almost Full"

Message from my printer.

Phew. And I was starting to get worried about all this artificial intelligence hype.

The Biggest Number in the World

Column Eight (Sydney Morning Herald) mused a bit about what's the biggest number in the world. "There's no biggest number" said one reader ...

because you can always think of a big number, then double it.

And give it a new name. Like googolplexplex or something.

Column Eight suggest "Frank" to be one more than the largest number you can come up with; someone else suggested a "maximillion".

I suggest a "Jones". You can never quite keep up with the Joneses.

P.S. The Mathemagician and Milo were discussing this in The Phantom Tollbooth years before I came across it in Column Eight. The smallest number too - thinkof the smallest number you can think of - then halve it.

Election '07: I like worms

Mr Rudd has just agreed to an election debate with Mr Howard, and there's going to be a worm. At first Mr Howard didn't want the worm, but Mr Rudd said, "Why punish the worm? Everyone likes the worm."

Hmm. Well, there's a song about going eating worms, but I know lots of people who don't like worms. They haven't been given a good wrap in the past. All this stuff about being slurmy and slimey and grubby and dirty. Like that was a bad thing. However I was just browsing through some pictures the other day and I thought about how unfair a generalisation that was. It's a bit like the one the Liberal Party is spruiking about union leaders - they're not all grubs. There are some, in fact quite a few, who look quite down and groovy to get with.

What we need to do is divest ourselves of some of the common worm myths we have in society. Not all worms are scary worms, like this:

Some, in fact, are very hardworking, congenial worms, who contribute a lot to Australian society and ought to be celebrated. The fact that they wear rather cool hats helps a lot:

Speaking of cool hats, a worm with this hat on has to have a keen sense of humour:

Some worms just keep smiling and keep the whole world smiling too!

And some just are trying very hard to assimilate into the Aussie way of life ...

Truly give them credit. There are some very cool worms out there. Vote 1 The Worm!

The whimsical contradictions of pollies pushing for power; or Election '07: now even I've started a diary

I just received an email from Senator Steve Fielding of Family First, urging us to put Family First. And to give him my telephone number so we can have a good natter about it.

Note to Senator Fielding - giving a pollie my personal number so he can pester me all day long, 'specially round election time, is not my idea of putting families first.

Ode to the dastardly less or fewer Coles Express Lane

When it's 12 Items or Less,
It's FEWER!
When it's Coles Express,
It's FEWER!
The signs are so meaningless
They should say FEWER!
What they garble is senseless
Why can't they write FEWER?
I shop in the fast lane less and less
I want them to write FEWER!
I'm getting more depressed
In God's name just write FEWER!
Please just put my mind to rest
How hard is it to write FEWER?!
And there'll be less poems like this I guess
FEWER! FEWER! FEWER! Damn it!

They got to me now.

Bastards.

Sweet Ever-child

Is it just me, or does the word "child" seem kind of incongruous here? Apparently she's a young, early-twenties inexperienced junior.

When I was that age I wore rounded glasses, a daggy T-shirt, baggy jeans and a Swatch watch, had a jagged thick fringe, pimples, and no hips, and thought joining the chess club was ultra cool. And I thought make-up was pretty cool - if you were a clown or a mime-artist. I had to put socks down my bra to fill out a Double-A bra. Actually, that hasn't changed that much except I finally threw the light-blue and white striped shirt away. I've changed it for a green T-shirt, it cost $5, which was a major outlay for me. It's so mega-hot.

Maybe I'm a Neverland kinda girl, but I get on buses, and I find girls on child passes who look more developed than me. Or so I think. Either school girls grow up quickly, or someone's cheating the transport system for a heck of a lot.

And then these young models who look ... erh, more worldly than me. Hmmm. Am I weird to say I feel rather inadequate in many regions?

If my child looked like that, she'd be using me for her Cabbage Patch Doll.

Politically Correct Comedy

There was an episode on Kath & Kim recently where the foxy ladies waded into the election debate. Brett gets fired from work under the new Workplace Relation laws, and Kath snaps "Bloody Howard!"

I was amused to read a comment from a reader in a newspaper that asked whether comedians knew that everytime they bought into a political debate, they lost half of their potential audience, and therefore they should stay away from it. It was bad stuff. His wife had tried watching Kath & Kim, but after the Howard comment she'd been turned off for good.

It's a pretty hard life out there for comedians. I guess some whiner is going to get there next and tell them that sitcoms which extol the virtue of the rounded happy family turn off all those people who are single or who had unhappy childhoods and don't agree, and that's bad stuff, and really shouldn't be done.

So I tried drafting a POLITICALLY CORRECT SITCOM scene:

Brett: I've just been sacked.

Kath: Bloody .... I mean, not as balanced as I previously would have thought of him before you were sacked, Howard!

Kim: Mum, that's not noice!

Sharon: I'd have to agree with Kim, Mrs D. May I please have one of those low-fat, sugarless muesli cookies that's good for your cholesterol and helps lower your calorie intake and battle obesity, Mrs D.?

Kath: Ok, Sharon.

Brett: Although I was disappointed with my lot I do think that there is a lighter side to this.

Kath: Philosophically speaking I think you may be right. Perhaps I was to harsh in my judgment. Howard may be a son of a female dog but he may also be one of those floaty white things that plays harps in heaven. It's all got to do with perspective, don't you think?

Kim: I think you're right Mum. It's perspective.

Brett: Either way you can't be bitter because as a useful Australian citizen I would have to contribute by finding gainful employment not being a dole bludger.

Sharon: Way to go Brett! Gee, these cookies are good, Mrs D!

Kath: How many have you had, Sharon?

Sharon: Ummmm ....

Kim: Never mind ....

(All put arms together and sing "mateship ... mateship ... mateship" with the sounds of panpipes in the background, and Sharon's chomping)

I would say this is definitely a .... joke.

I guess a case of do as I say, not as I do?

In today's Daily Telegraph:

Don't be selfish:
have kids

Pope's blunt message

Wonka Wisdom

I must say I must be the coolest person ever. Or at least close to.

I just received my Borders Shortlist (sign up at the Borders Book Webpage ) and I found out they were celebrating Roald Dahl's birthday, which is on the 13th September. And you know, that makes for a whole lot more interesting stuff in a newsletter than celebrating APEC.

F'rinstance, they listed four top Dahl books. Matilda, The Twits, The BFG and Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. That's great, though I would have a hard time not squeezing in The Witches there too. I can also say I just read Esio Trot recently and I have a great image of tortoises all over a living room that is pretty darn cool.

Then there was the Wonka Quiz.

I got 100%. 10/10. I am officially a Wonka master! Unfortunately I don't win a Golden Ticket but I have my self respect and a huge ego now, even bigger than when I wrote my last post.

I can say I am one of those people who knew what Hair Toffee does and what happened to Prince Pondicherry and which flavour bar the last Golden Ticket was hidden in. I am officially Wonka Wise, Scrumptiously Sage, Chocaliciously, Scrumpliciously Cool!

This day is one I have been waiting for all my life. Joyous!

Baby Games

Over on TimT's blog he's pining a bit for kids' game shows and giving us the latest rundown on the Einstein Factor for kids.

While there's Australia's Brainiest Kid, and the Einstein Factor For Kids, and It's Academic! (for schoolchildren teams), and Australian Idol for younger people who don't want to be kids and put on so much makeup that they look older than me, I think we're missing out on many of the fine possibilities in reality, game show and TV sport production that could be aimed at children.

What about "I want that Mummy!"

How many little kids have found themselves bitterly disappointed with their families and the parents they've been born to, and been absolutely sure there's been a mix up at the hospital? This is the Perfect Match for Kids. Children behind a door and ask several possible parent couples questions. Can Dexter the Robot pair up who is the more likely Mummy and Daddy for this child? Maybe there WAS a mix up at the hospital! At least they may be going home with a more suitable parent couple ... or at least out on one date with them to test them out ...

Or the Bratz model - "I want THAT, Mummy"

Select the 12 top tantrum tossers in the country, and bring them to a showdown in the local department store or supermarket. Trot them down the aisles and see who can wear down a professional actor, posing as a Mummy, the fastest. Who will give in first - Master Mummy, to the screaming fits for marshmallows and Lego and a baby Ipod? Or the Master Tantrum Tosser to threats of no Wiggles concerts for the next three hundred years ... stay tuned!

Baby Sumo Wrestling

If obesity is such a problem in this country, why not celebrate and take advantage of it rather than hide it and be ashamed of it? Ya know what I'm talking about.

Isle Of Ignoramus

Recently, the International Committee On Citizens And Immigrants came together to discuss a serious matter seriously, not just swap Iced Vovos and sushi recipes.

Previously, citizenship tests had been discussed. Some countries had them, and some hadn't. But many were thinking of taking them on. These included a test of random questions, which could include anything about the food and sporting history of the country to which were the Prime Minister's underpants of choice that day. Some countries accepted you if you got the latter question right, some expelled you if you did. Others included language proficiency tests, criminal history checks, and tests by large highly trained sniffer dogs. This was a matter for contention, as some countries did not think body odour ought to be a factor taken into account in whether you were a worthy citizen. However, an overwhelmingly number believed in it. "If a person stinks, the country sinks," chanted the supporters.

But this seminar, it was found that not only did many applying immigrants fail basic "sample answer" tests for citizenship, but the ones who had been born in a place failed miserably too.

The Australian representatives put forth their side:
While the committee was forced to accept multiple answers for some questions, ("Who is the Opposition Leader of Australia?" Kevin Rudd, Peter Costello, the ABC; "What does the "W." stand for in "John W. Howard"?" Winston, Wanker, Worst PM, "What is Australia's official language?" English, swearing, texting; were all considered acceptable, were some examples) applicants did terribly, and many citizens even worse.

The panel scratched through a bundle of tests who wrote that the Australian of the Year was "really cool - I watch each week - I will audition next year and make my dreams come true and by the way I love you Marcia and I hate Dicko!!!!!!!! xxxxxooooo!!!"

The International Committee showed several humiliatingly similar stories, such as people who had searched for Condoleeza Rice in the grains section of their supermarket.

It was then that it was decided to set up an Isle of Ignoramus. This may take some time as it as realised this may have to be a rather large Isle.

Those who could not show basic knowledge of their homeland would be shipped to Ignoramus - unless they could apply successfully, meeting the standard requirements of a citizenship test, to some other country.

Ignoramians would be supplied with basic water and shelter. It would be a jungle isle, so they could easily pick fruit and hunt for food. There would be some nice yummy cockroaches to eat should they get the urge for something more substantial. They may find nuts and berries, and possibly, if they were lucky, a cocoa bean to sweeten the whole thing up.

Courtesy of the International Committee a library would be set up on Ignoramus. There would be a limited number of books, texts and so forth, on various countries and cultures, but certainly enough information to study and pass a sample answer test, should an Ignoramian wish to improve his or her status in life. It may be necessary to share or fight for such resources, but this would show the will to learn - or the ability for those on Ignoramus to learn civilised ways and negotiate win-win situations.

Twice a year, Ignoramians would be given the opportunity to resit a citizenship test for the country of their choice - if they wish. Should they pass they would be allowed to leave Ignoramus.

The Committee thought the idea a resounding success. Now, the only question remained - where should they put Ignoramus?

Infuriating bits of technology

A laptop has been frustrating Mr Coffee lately.

Laptops are very good at that. They are very infuriating creatures, because just as you are getting cross, and dancing about the room screaming, "I'm going to kill you if you don't do exactly what I want you to do - now accept this password/load up again!" they remain very composed. They don't react. They don't even blush. They don't say a thing. They just keep waiting for you to get crosser. Unfortunately I fall for that trick a lot and start crying and say things like,

"WHY? WHY? WHY DO THIS TO ME? Say something won't you?" It increases my blood pressure no end and I often end up rattling the computer which doesn't do too well for its functioning.

This is not uncommon. In fact it is VERY COMMON.

There are, perhaps you are unaware, every day people who are dancing about their computers screaming at them, and the computers don't scream back and the people get cross at them for not screaming. On the other hand if they did scream back they'd probably die of a heart attack. So it's kind of like a Catch-22.

Jack Yardley, 27, was dancing about, screaming at his computer, when he could take it no longer.

"If you don't do what I want you to do I will throw you off the flipping Gap!" he screamed.

The computer considered Yardley mildly.

"Insolent beast!" Screeched Yardley. he pressed some more keys. He fiddled with more cables. He turned the computer on and off. Nothing more.

"I can't take this an more!"

Yardley grabbed the laptop, and ran off to the Gap, and with a bloodcurdling scream, he threw himself AND the laptop off it.

It was a first, and the story made headlines.

MAN JUMPS OFF GAP WITH LAPTOP HUDDLED IN ARMS.
MAN DEAD. LAPTOP STILL SHOWS SIGNS OF FUNCTIONING.
"INPUT PLEASE. PLEASE TYPE PASSWORD. LOGON OR CANCEL?"