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Greetings favourite people and others.

2008 has already begun as year-of-the-date-clash (bet the Chinese haven't thought of that one). But I won't bore you with the reasons why. I still haven't learned to cope with the reality that when something happens, something else is usually happening at the same time.

I'm using this post to catch up with some belated family housekeeping matters. Firstly, congrats to big brother Matthew for landing a full time job as 2IC to the Director of Music/ Middle School at Pembroke, Adelaide, SA, Oz-Stray-ya. Kind of ironic that he gets a gig at Middle School level when his previous employer allegedly knocked him back for a promotion as he "didn't have enough experience at Middle School level". I won't name the institution, but it shares it's name with that of a luxury German car.

This photo is here for no other reason than to break up the monotony of the text

Speaking of no experience, our luddite mother is still throwing herself headlong into the world of patooters (that's Katie Hawkes-speak for computers). Apart from not being able to attach photos to emails without worrying whether or not they're still on her patooter after the email leaves, she's not doing too badly.

Here's an exchange we had after I sent her an email with a link to all the things which happen which are blamed on Global Warming.

Mumsy: I'm more interested to know if you're going to purchase (as seen on same webpage as the article) the 'CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED' dvd of "Jesus didn't Exist" by...such LUMINARIES as Jesus Seminar Fellow (what's that?) Robert M. Price, Professor (of what?) Richard Dawkins ... All this for an undisclosed price and in "crisp Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo audio"!!!!!

Me: Right, so Jesus doesn't exist now? Can't these cultural elite/ career atheists agree on anything? If he didn't exist, how could he have been married to Mary Magdelene? Or have been "revived by the coolness of the tomb"? Or been gay? Or an alien? Or "just a great bloke with some top ideas"? Or a virulent anti-semite?

You have just discovered the "automatically generated ads-by-Google". You see, they scan your browsing habits or key words in the article on the page and generate ads they think are related. So on sites which say nice things about Jesus, you'll see a google-generated ad saying "Jesus was a dangerous cult leader- read more here" or on a site satirical about communism, you'll see an ad telling you how to join the Australian Socialist Alliance. Clearly the programs which randomnly generate the ads haven't learned to decipher sarcasm.

And then, of course, there's Ebay- Google will look at what you're browsing, pick a key word and generate an ad saying you can buy that kind of thing on Ebay. So if you're reading an article about Kevin Rudd, there will be an advertisement on the side saying "Thinktanks! Great deals on thinktanks on Ebay".

I then attached, for Mumsy's benefit, an example of what happens when automated ad generating goes horribly wrong, after I was browsing for info on the Sudanese genocide.


So, as Mum and others are slowly learning, it's highly web-fashionable and trendy to leave prominent space on your webpage to the mercy of a Google-owned, automated random ad generating robot. Never mind that people reading your website about healthy eating will be lead to a site promoting suicide by weed killer. Or, that the net resource for Rabbinical Judaism will contain links to Hog's Breath. Or that whilst reading an online speech by the Archbishop of Canterbury, you'll be redirected to a site demanding sharia law (oh wait...that one was synonymous).



That reminds me, and I digress with another transcript of an exchange, this time with my highly talented godsister Katie on the subject of music, late last year:

Katie Eleanor: I'll serenade you anytime, godbrother. I'm currently working on an acoustic version of Prodigy's inspirational hit "Smack my Bitch Up"
Me: Is that what they're saying? I always thought it was "Smack my Bishop". Never had Prodigy pegged for Anglicans.

That was quite a prophetic comment now that I look at it. And once Katie has finished her acoustic version maybe we can serenade the Bishop of the Diocese of the Mu...

ANYWAY, where was I? Oh yeah, automated Google ads...

So, wanting my blog to be trendy regardless of the risks, my comrades at The People's Cube have come up with some similar ads to spice this blog. Really, they are randomnly generated.





Now, on a more civilised and far more enjoyable note, another congratulations goes to our German Frau Claudi, or more specifically her sister Katherine. Katherine has just given birth to, as they apparently say in Germany, "a little dwarf". Rather than lecture Claudi on the political incorrectness of such phrases, as they are insulting and demeaning to dwarfs, people suffering from dwarfism and garden ornaments, better just to post a piccy of Auntie Claudi and her new dwarf. I mean nephew.



Recently I have noted a spate of dwarfs born with lots and lots of hair. Our nephew Zane, and a couple from church to name some. Obviously whichever mutated gene causes this has not yet found it's way to Germany, which is good because Nicolas's father Uwe's hair is very, very grey.

Herzlichen Glückwunsch to Katherine, Uwe and Auntie Claudi.

Now click on a google ad and see where you end up. A site about tall people, perhaps.

Warning: gross pictures, may be deemed offensive to bloated cows

Well howdy and happy noo year.

While I was off racing at Oran Park late 07 we got a new government, and I forgot to blog about it. Mum always used to say "Don't talk about religion and politics". Well, I've pretty much stuffed that bigtime for the last 38 years. But it seems our brilliantly gifted Naomi shows the same disregard; late last year, I noticed she had defaced a copy of the Herald Sun which was lying around. It must have been following a visit from the Horsham Grandparents, since that's the only way the Herald Sun would ever find it's way into our house (what can I say, I prefer to be correctly informed, not dazzled with magic). It was also about the time a bit of cheap journalism had dragged up footage of poor Kevin Rudd eating his own ear wax during question time. Big deal. So I chew my fingernails. Besides, everybody knows poor Rudd, like so many others, have been forced into eating their ear taters due to the crippling poverty caused by the evil John Howard (because before JH and GWB there was no such thing as poverty).

Anyhoo, on this day in November 07 Omi had taken a pen to every page of this beacon of media integrity, occasionally by drawing moustaches on people, which is fine and befitting of someone in her age group, but also with some interesting commentary. One of them was written below a current picture of our new PM, and said;

Kevin Rudd needs some cotton buds for Christmas

No cynical, jaded and sarcastic political commentary from me could possibly top that. So you're all off the hook.

Apart from this:

One of these people appears to wear lipstick, and it's not the one on the left. Seriously Kevin, stop licking your lips so much. We will not be taken seriously as a nation and as a result will probably be attacked by terrorists, or worse, Iranians, who hang men who look like they wear lipstick

As I write this Sharon has just enjoyed her first half-day without 3 kids for almost 2 months. Little Becky-boo was a first time school kiddy today and has been rabitting excitedly on about her impending promotion for most of that 2 months. Well, most of last year actually. But I was a good Dad. Not once did I say anything like "you don't know what you're saying" or "the novelty will wear off instantly" or "glad you're looking forward to it... mwhahahBWAHAHAHA....".

No this not the offensive photo (more on that later). This one is quite cute

No, I should just be glad she relishes the idea of school. I am not-too-old enough to remember that I used to HATE being told "Ha! School! They're the best years of your life!". Used to hate it. Don't now- because it's BLUDDY WELL TRUE.

What the...are they...is that...are they... actually ALL SMILING AT THE SAME TIME??! What are the odds?

So that was two months of grafitti-ing, denting, scratching, spreading rodent-related debris around and other general carnage. Although we did hear, from some other parents, of this thing where you "find things for them to do, like going to the pool or a park". Brilliant idea. We'll note it down for next time.

However, one of the things I cannot blame the kids for breaking, and (finally) a good excuse for not taking them to the park, is this;

Before.

That's right. Jan 7th was the date of my postponed-from-'07 surgical procedure- Hallux Valgus correction. Which is just a sexy name for angle-grind-bits-of-bone-from-bunion and force-the-big-toe-straight operation. Sharon once described to me exactly how they do it and I really wish she hadn't. So now my foot looks like this.

After.

But that's not the gross and potentially offensive photo I was referring to, I'll get to that at the end of the post. Now in case you're wondering, the post-op foot in question is the one on the left. I put the right side one there, partly because I had no choice because it's attached to my other leg, and partly for comparison purposes. Or maybe you already worked it out because the left one looks like the udder from a dead, bloated, purple cow.

So I won't be walking for a while without some assistance. It did involve two and a bit weeks off work which was gainfully used to watch the Oz open tennis and over $100 worth of DVD's.

When the DVD supply ran out and with two weeks of total boredom and immobility, I found it amazing what you can do with that interweb thingy. Between the cricket and the tennis finals I managed to locate the Ark of the Covenant, just by googling (Indiana Jones was wrong, it ain't in Tunisia). Then I learned that Bill Clinton's husband Hillary is really a confused woman with a potty mouth, and Gazan Palestinians apparently need over half a tonne of flour per day...each. I was about to discover a cure for Alzheimer's but I had to go back to work.

Okay, now for the gross and potentially offensive photo. I can't let a posting go by without a rant, so: This post was brought to you by the government agency who rejected an online literary award for a version of The Three Little Pigs because it was deemed too offensive to Muslims, cowboys and builders.

Oink oink!

Quick rant: "Mt Grandpappy didn't fight wars and restore classic aircraft so you ingrates could..."

I'll try and keep this brief. Yep, I chose the wrong time to leave Adelaide. The onset of the gorgeously agreeable yellow-tram-purchasing Mike Rann, rampant speed camera abuse, the commodities boom, and world famous wannabe terrorist David Hicks.

The Premier of SA and his speech writer. (Seriously).

Yep, I can proudly tell the Vics, sure, I know where Hicksy lives. Sharon used to work there. Huge place up on Grand Junction Road. Just around the corner is the original landing site of the Vickers Vimy, after it's historic Atlantic crossing flight in 1919. The aircraft was restored in 1954 by my grand-pappy Wing Commander Jim Gooch and is currently hiding in a hangar at the old Adelaide Airport terminal. He got no credit for the restoration, of course, even though he had to singlehandedly source the individual bits of the aircraft from all over Australia. Apparently he found the prop hanging over the mess hall doorway at Point Cook RAAF base, which is just down the road from where I'm working now.

I say Ross ole' chap, we make a historically significant landing here and they go and build a ruddy gaol round the corner! Poor form what??

But I digress. Hicksy was big news when he finally was freed from the oppression of the evil Dubya at Gitmo and returned to his rightful home and family, who clearly gave him such a loving, stable upbringing. After all, he was just a small town kid who made a few mistakes, hung with the wrong crowd. That's no reason to put him in a concentration camp, hang him upside down for days on end, electrocute him via the testicles and make sexual jibes about his mother for SIX WHOLE years.

I was also a small town kid who made a few mistakes and hung with the wrong crowd so I totally dig where he's at. I too actively sought out training with the hideous terrorist organisation Al-Qaida, underwent training in heavy arms and explosives for 8 months whilst writing to my family that I welcome death in the glorious name of Allah and desire the death of all non-believers from...

...wait a sec, no I didn't.

Now at the risk of sounding way too pragmatic instead of emotional, angry, I-hate-John-Howard-and-Dubya-and-if-I-ever-do-anything-bad
-it's-all-their-fault-because-they-made-me-angry type, here's the facts on Hicks: Terrorists, especially the Islamic kind (which seem to be most of them these days...boy I bet there's a lot of Northern Irish who are thrilled about that) practice a certain brand of deadly attacks on civilians which earns them the title of "unlawful combatants". This concept hearkens back to the days of the Nuremburg trials where, although some German soldiers did kill people lawfully (!) in battle, it was their genocidal habits towards around 6 million Jews and other demographic groups which landed them in hot water.

Oh, by the way, some of Hicksy's jihadist dear-mum letters were venomously anti-Semitic.

Yes I know the concept of "lawful war" is a bit detestable, but we live in a fallen world. What are you gonna do. Anyhoo, the unlawful combatants earn themselves different treatment to that afforded to prisoners-of-war, and do not necessarily earn civil criminal treatment either.

Now normally you'd accept these harmless (sic) hanky-headed jihadis running around in the Afghani desert doing commando crawls in khakis screaming about killing infidels are just full of hot air. In fact it actually looks like a lot of fun through the fuzzy resolution. Likewise, Hicksy never actually killed anybody although he did boast about firing on the Indian army in Kashmir. He was just a small town kid who blah blah bla....

Problem is, these jihadis are more than hot air. The same ideals to which Hicks proudly spruiked have perpetuated 10,200 deadly attacks on civilians in the last 7 years, and countless others prior. A long list of Islamic terror attacks beyond the scope of this blog. Islamic media littered with vile, Jew-hating and West-hating rhetoric. Killing almost daily in Philippines, Pakistan, Thailand, Indonesia, Russia, Jordan, "Palestine", Lebanon, Syria, India, slightly less killing in Israel (for some reason Jews have learned how to defend themselves) and...well, you get the idea.

Yet our mass media and entertainment industry are bent on convincing us that Hicksy and his ilk are the victims. Just what we need. Tell the murderers with their hate-filled ideology, which they practice to the letter, that they are the true victims. Talk about empowerment.

Admittedly, it's not hard to make them look like poor abused puppy dogs. After all, as bloodthirsty as these terrorist savages are (with unarmed civilians) I have it on the best advice that when they are confronted with a real soldier, they run screaming like little girls.

Now I'm not suggesting it's okay for some GI's at Gitmo to take nudey pictures of a poor terrorist or point him in the wrong direction for Mecca at prayer time and have a giggle about it. And yes there are shortcomings in the way the Government dealt with this Australian citizen (presuming he still deserves that title).

But I do wish, just sometimes, the cultural elite of our media would show the same outrage for entire villages of raped, murdered and enslaved Sudanese women or their headless husbands, or the mutilation and killing of Pakistani Christian children, or the gleeful joy with which "Palestinian" children declare their desire to kill the Jewish "swine", or the massacre of Phillipinos and Indonesian Christians, or the...well, you get the idea. It's not as if there isn't enough of this going on. And it's not all unrelated. And apparently it was even going on before Dubya was callously invading those peace-loving, human-rights havens like Iraq.

After all, wasn't he just a small town kid who....

Bright, sun-shiny day

On the weekend of Nov 24-25 I drove to Sydney, raced at Oran Park, then drove home. You can read about that here . Not satisfied with completely over-doing it for an entire month, I thought I'd squeeze in another activity, at least this time, for kid(s). Well, in this case, Sammy at least. The plan was to get up early-ish, drive to Queenscliff, take the leisurely ferry-ride to Sorrento, then drive calmly to Phillip Island for the V8 Stuporcars, since Sammy has become as tragically addicted to car racing as I was when around 12. Sad, that.

Seriously, I actually do think it's sad. The only reason I haven't taken him to a race yet is because I'm kinda over standing on the side of a hill with yobbos who actually think the cars racing are the same as the car they drove to the track .

But no, this time would be different. After all, the previous weekend my van to Sydney contained not only my race kart, but one belonging to the team manager for established V8 Supercar driver Jason Bright. Hence, he owed me a favour. So we would get the full garage tour etc.

How cool. When I was a little motorsport-junkie-tacker, the first touring car race I saw was as a guest of our local Holden Dealer. Things were a little more casual then but still, to be shown through Brocky's car and meet the man himself was pretty special. So, I suppose I have always tried to avoid joining the masses when attending these events. Why force the same unrealistic standard on my own boy? Because I can. Hehehee.

UP until recently all Sam had eyes for was "Craig Lowndes!!" He has now been converted to "Jason Bright!!" (Unfortunately Craig Lowndes is up the right end of the grid. Jason is up the other end).

HOw quickly the smile faded from this girl's face when she realised Triple Eight Racing's Jamie Whincup was just rushing towards his race car

So anyhoo, that was the plan. What really happened was that we missed the first ferry, took an ill-fated shortcut through the Mornington Peninsula which ended up in a road closure, got stuck through Saturday am shopping traffic, then drove anything but calmly to Phillip Island in a trip that took, all up, four and a half hours.

But it was all worth it with a slightly shy but enthused Sammy having the meet-and-greet with Brighty, sit in the car, photos, and some cool (free) team merchandise which yes, ahem, included some for daddy as well.

I was also told some (confidential) interesting stats on the money thrown around to run a V8 Soupedupcar team and sponsorship brokering. Britek's level 2 (Fujitsu-series) V8 Car is currently looking for a driver. They can't really advertise on seek.com because unlike most jobs, this one costs you a cool $350,000 for the year, and you still have to find your own accommodation and travel. The level one team costs around $7m to run per year. At the moment, they have a total of around $5m in sponsorship.

That's just a sniff. On the way home, Sam rather predictably said "I wanna be a V8 Supercar driver!!". I'm currently in the process of encouraging him toward something more economical, like an astronaut or airline pilot. More piccys soon, so if you happened upon this posting before I told you about it, go away and come back later. (Please).