The Blogonomy

I have been a very bad blogsumer, I admit. People come to my little wacko corner of the Internet, tolerate my random musings, and yet… I still don’t comment on their blog.

So I feel I am not contributing to the overall blogonomy and the forces that drive it. You know… you comment here, and you get a comment back.

I don’t mean to be rude, and I surely don’t wish to appear as a bloglitist (a derivative of elitist), however sometimes I am overawed by other people’s blogs, their subjects of choice and how inane mine seems in comparison.

Yes, it is inane to compare yourselves to others, and people shouldn’t do it… but hey… read the freakin’ heading of this blog. This place is inane. You should be used to it by now.

So, without further ado, I am going to do a communal comment for everyone in the right column, as well as some new names that have cropped up recently. Bear with this… I can’t be stuffed doing the HTML links because I’m lazy, and it’s late-ish right now. Also, my comments may not pertain to your most recent post…

Chris from Where’s The Gravy: Hope you’re still having fun gallivanting around the UK, you lucky bastard. Pub Epiphanies has now changed hands, although I must admit to not having gone there much after you and Karen left. Remember to not offend the locals, and… as always… Go Fuck Yourself (in-joke).

Honeysmack from Smack Dab in the Middle (formerly Idle Thoughts and I haven’t been screwed updating the links): Don’t become jaded about writing. Sometimes we have time for it… sometimes we don’t. It’s a great outlet for times when we’re simply pissed off. Remind me to wave when I see you in the street.

Chica from Moi World: Shopping is what drives the economy, not to be confused with the blogonomy. Shopping involves cash, which is a valuable commodity… my comments, incidentally, are worth squat.

CB from The Chicken or the Egg: Oh yeah… I still comment on your blog every now and then. Either way, after all these months it’s good to see you’re still pervin’ on.

Petstarr from Blandcanyon: Your apparent dislike of Kim Cattrall ranks highly in my book. I like the new layout, however for someone who watches too much TV there is a notable lack of any kind of Big Brother hearting and/or hating. Unless I’ve missed it…

Andy from The Hanging Stranger: You don’t comment here… and you don’t link back here. You’re still a funny fucker.

X from October 4th: Ever since you guys won the ashes, I haven't been bothered going to some poms blog. Nah, just kidding. I don’t give a shit about cricket (why would I when we lost?), and I have to add that your style of writing is impressive.

Carly and her small room: Hope everything is okay. Although I confess to not being a huge fan of Augie March… and it’s somewhat funny that I keep seeing the bands name pop up… and Portishead for some other random reason… but a girl I was training with the other day had an Augie shirt. She must’ve gone to the gig.

123 I Love You: I look forward to reading about your killing spree one day soon.

Raridayrar: Another one who doesn’t comment here, but is still insanely funny… er… Unless your blog is about how the people around you are so absurd that you are actually sinking into a psychological oblivion, then I don’t find you funny and I sympathise greatly with your plight.

Lizzie from GSH: Don’t go hurting yourself too much more. That sounds terrible. Er… don’t injure yourself. Oh.. that sounds worse.

Kenneth from Definitely Maybe: Dire Straits is not great music to listen to when you’re in solitude. Oh wait… It’s not great… period. IM not so great O.

Cadiz: I am really slack for not commenting on your blog. When dealing with any kind of public department (ie Government) simply write a letter to your congress-person. It gets results every time… well, it does in our lovely little democratic hovel we call Australia.

4S: You’ve moved on. I hope life is well :)

The Soda Fountain: I’ve never commented your blog, and you’ve never commented on mine. Your link in the side is a source of bemusement for me, however I leave it there as a reminder of the follies of willy-nilly linking. Your blog is at home there and to not have it there would make it look empty.

Sherri: Another one I have been slack with. My apologies.

Krystle: I know you’ve changed your blog name… but I will leave the original name there cos I think it quirky and amusing. Yes, that’s right it really has nothing to do with my being slack. Really.

Jen: You’ve unlinked me. A sign of my failing to upkeep the blogonomy :)

DDC and Andy from Neutralising the pH level: On a scale between one and random, your blog is a fridge.

Mel: Another internode user, eh? I’d try having LAN with you guys, but I’d probably get pwned.

Steph: I too have someone to hug when I feel down. Mr Johnnie Walker has been a help lately, but just the other day I decided to go without for a while. Overall, I’d have to say that you’re a woman after my own dementia. :) And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Auburn: I’ve been slack here as well. I hear my shares in the blogonomy are dropping due to poor comment projections.

The Rev: Stop stealing my clients. I know where you live… well… it’s Adelaide. I’m bound to know someone who does…

Jennifer: Your writing leaves me astounded sometimes. That is all. Oh, and say Hi to Anthony for me.

UTR (Andy) from 400 Days: You lucky bastard for having lived in Japan. I am forever envious… until I remember that you’ve had to eat their damn Japanese pizzas. Sorry for the reminder of how Australia is the “Best” place on Earth, but I guess reality bites hard. Sorry to be the harbinger of frustration.

Zzymurgy: Your having commented here surprises me, especially since your blog reeks of the awesomeness to which that Chuck Norris can only aspire.

Karen Little: Thanks for commenting here. I see from your blog that you’ve been subject to the awful phenomena that is the meme – the biggest comment killer of them all… Well… they are around these parts of teh intarweb.

Jackt: My firefox started playing up trying to access Sucky Blog… but from what I’ve read (from work), it is hilarious. I’m afraid the best contribution I can make right now is “Yes. Yes indeed. That does suck”

Geoff: I too am on the road to recovery after suffering many footy injuries and the like. It feels good to be able to sit down cross legged again…

SO there you have it. Sorry if I missed anyone. Feel free to remind me in the comments section below. Keep the blogonomy running.

We Can Be Heroes...

I was channel bounding last night, not taking anything in, and basically wondering why I didn’t pop on my Collectors DVD of Daria episodes.

But I kept swinging past the current media darlings otherwise known as “The Two Blokes Who Were Trapped In A Fallen Mine”, and their exclusive interview on Channel Nine.

Or… as far as I could see, it was the story of “The Two Blokes Who Got Paid Two Million Bucks To Bang On (Exclusively) About Rocks For A Shitload Of Time”.

“I was buried up to my chest in Rock”

“When I pulled Rocks out, more Rocks would fall in”

“I wanted to go see a wrestling match with The Rock…”

“The Foo Fighters make good Rock music”

Okay, so I made the last two up. But whenever I bounded past the Nine station, the word “Rock” would be mentioned at least twice for the five seconds I loitered there.

Not to discount their ability to endure, and the tenacity required to survive such an ordeal, but I simply must object to the term “heroes” which the media just loves to foist upon anyone who has gotten through something.

So, what of the unsung heroes of today’s society? I think I’ll follow the current media’s trend of finding everyday heroes.*

For instance, I spoke with John Blackwell of Underdale, Adelaide. John was to travel to Sydney to pursue his dream of being a lead folk dancer in a major musical, but instead drove right into his worst nightmare.
“Oh the traffic was hell over there, I tell you…” he said, with a distant look in his eyes, “There were cars everywhere, no one used their turn signal, and the speed limit was basically redundant.”
John had to cross through Sydney in order to get to his audition, but was unwittingly swept into the chaos of a hellish peak hour. However, due to his dogged nature, and his undying desire to see his loved ones again, he pulled through it all and returned home to Adelaide. “Oh, I just didn’t want to die. I told God that I simply wasn’t ready yet.”
Sure, he didn’t get the part, but in the eyes of us at the Inane Asylum (and based upon the precedent that the media has set), John is a Hero. And that is enough.

Then there was the tale of Asuma Aikumasu. He was on a dream life journey to Australia to find himself, become aware of cultural poles, and to try beers of different continents. However, what was to be a trip of a lifetime soon descended into the abyss. Speaking through a translator, he weakly told me, “All I did was touch the Fosters drink”
Even though Australia is renown for beers of great taste, Asuma didn’t know that there are some evil brews circulating some backwater pubs.
“I thought all beers were equal, but upon being hit with illness as a result of drinking Fosters, I realize now that is not the case.”
Asuma bravely fought on against the poison, and even during the lowest point of the illness he thought only of his girlfriend back home in Okinawa, “I had to pull through for her. I want to marry her one day, and I think this experience has taught me that life is too short”
And for surviving such an ordeal, Asuma too is a Hero.

Or Edith Smithson of Richmond, Melbourne. She has just pulled through a harrowing ordeal at her local post office, in where a simple transaction turned into the Wait From Hell.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there.” She said.
“The wait just kept going and going. People were all paying with plastic – where have the days of cash gone? My eye kept flicking past the DIY Last Will and Testament pack. I seriously thought about grabbing one and penciling down my dying wishes, post haste”
During her terminal boredom, she turned her thoughts skyward. “I’ve never been a religious person” she said, “but I think the fact that I survived such an awful ordeal is a sign that someone was looking out for me that day”
Things looked dire when she saw the “Transaction Denied” words on the EFTPOS machine. But she pulled through by actually typing in her PIN correctly. And although the worst had been put behind her, she still had to walk back past the other disgruntled people in the queue who witnessed her mistake on the EFTPOS.
“They were all so condescending. Sure, they didn’t say or do anything, but I felt it in their eyes. They hated me. But The Lord guided me out the front door.”
She now has a firm hold on life, and wants people to know that time is precious, “Grab life by the horns. My ordeal has taught me that too much time is spent waiting. Get out there, and fill your life with joy.”
And Edith is, for surviving, a Hero.

Personally, I survived waiting in the line up at the Bean Bar, listening to the inane conversations of the other patrons. I got through it without slitting my wrists with the popsticks normally used for stirring coffee. I too, am a Hero.

Heroes are everywhere, people! You all walk among greatness!

*The following people and their heroic displays may not exist and may not have happened... respectively.

Lay Back With Us.

So, where the bloody hell are you?

Come to Australia and experience our laid back attitude.

There is never a rush to do anything at all, unless you’re stuck behind a little Suzuki Swift… then hell, you’ve gotta be where you want to go NOW!

We will happily stop our cars to let you cross the street, unless you are crossing when the little red man light is flashing. In that case we are more than entitled to hurl abuse at you, honk our horn and shout obscenities. Of course, if you’re the pedestrian, you can do likewise, but I’d hate to see what horn you’re honking.

We delight at laying in our backyard and taking it easy, unless the neighbour’s dog/tree/kids/general aura is impeding our enjoyment of laying back. We will then either torment the dog, chop down the tree, terrorise their children and sully their aura… and then go to a Current Affairs show to show the entire country how shithouse they are.

We never let fiscal worries ever stress us out, unless the “bloody reserve bank change interest rates by a quarter of a percent which is going to send my bleedin’ kids into bleedin’ poverty - you fat cats in your smarmy business suits have all the fuckin’ luck”… because our money is never our own responsibility.

We don’t get carried away with our spending. Because if for any reason that we get a $4,000 mobile phone bill, we can always kick up a stink and run to a Current Affairs show to bail us out… because “It’s not our fault the kid ran up a $4,000 bill of downloads… it’s the telecommunications company’s fault for not telling us what we’re doing”. We don’t get fancy mobile phones to keep up with the Jones’ here in Australia. No, we buy our kids spanking new 3G mobile phones to “keep in touch with them just in case of an emergency”… instead of a pre-paid phone.

We’re so laid back, that if something ever goes to pooptown, it’s the Government’s fault. High bank fees? Government did it. Dog got run over? Government too. Meteorite to collide with earth? You can bet the Government had a hand in that too.

However, $3000 grants from the Government for having a baby are a result of the hard workin’, yet totally laid back Aussie.

Oh yes, it surely is paradise in Australia. Where else can you be accosted by laid back louts in a pub because a waitress gave you the eye? Where else can you politely question a laid back person’s opinion on foreign policy, and have them threaten to punch you in the face?

In fact, we’re so fuckin’ laid back here that you could easily mistake us for a bunch of up-tight, namby-pamby, whining, crying, jingoistic, racist, easily-threatened, paranoid bigots. But then you’d remember that we’re Australian… so we’re actually “laid back”.

Australia. Where the bloody hell are you?

I think the more pertinent question to Australia is, where the bloody hell have you gone?

Sunnydaleville - I'll be back.

I’m not particularly au fait with the Superman franchise, so I’m probably not the best person to be commenting on this topic.

But, after skimming over channel 10 these last few weeks has pondered this question.

What the fuck is up with Smallville?

At first I thought it an interesting premise. You know, Clark Kent growing up with his powers and how it impacts upon his relationships, friendships, family and so forth. You know.. it was quaint.

But something didn’t sit well with me. For instance, he was friends with his eventual nemesis Lex Luthor.

So, if they were friends, or have at least known each other for a fair while, why doesn’t Lex Luthor recognise Superman?

And now they’ve introduced into the series Clark’s love interest, Buffy. I mean, Lois Lane. It seems that as a kid, Lois wasn’t the screeching mistress who was as useful as a wet paper bag.

No, in fact she kicks arse, flips around and stabs vampires with wooden stakes. Oh wait. That’s Buffy again.

I’m sure if Smallville Lois got a glimpse of the woman she’ll be growing up into (movie Lois), I’m sure she would deepthroat a bottle of aspirin along with a bottle of absinthe.

Oh but wait, not only does Clark do battle with Lex and his evil aspirations, Clark also takes on the evil T1000 from Terminator 2. You know, the liquid metal thing. Ooh… cos Arnie just isn’t tough enough?

Right after vanquishing the insidious terminator (I presume, because the series is still running), he must UNLOCK THE FUCKING DA VINCI CODE!!! Or at least something that rips off the Da Vinci code… ooh… there’s a painting with a CODE in it!!! Get onto it Clark!!!!

Whatever next? Clark has to battle vampires in a small country town that might actually be the front portal into oblivion? He’d better take Buf… Lois with him then…

Five bucks says that the final episode of Smallville has a sudden Amnesia part written in…

(If I actually watched Smallville, I might actually understand some of this shit… but it looks like shit… so I won’t watch it… hey, if people who don’t watch Big Brother can piss and moan about it, I can therefore piss and moan about Smallville)

Tips on getting around in Japan

Okay, I’ve had a few google hits regarding this, and I have had a couple questions over email.

So, I guess I will address this in a post so that I may link people.

Tips for Japan (from someone who has been only once, didn’t stay for long… but still does not want you to walk away from The Inane Asylum empty handed):

Use the word “Sumimasen”. Trust me. You’ll use it a lot. It means “Sorry” or “Excuse me”. It will come in handy for when you offend someone… or when you have to agonisingly squeeze past them on a train. Both of these things will happen. Be prepared.

If you are using the trains (and you will… constantly… about 95% of your time will be on a train. Get used to this), go to www.hyperdia.com as it offers you the various methods of getting from point A to point Zatoicihi. However, for the intrepid inner Tokyo adventurer, simply find the quickest way to the Yamanote line as that thing runs a circle around most of the city, and will take you to the major touristy type spots… except maybe Asakusa.

The correct pronunciation of Asakusa is not “Ass-ah-koo-za” like many idiotic Australian tourists think. It is pronounced “Ah-zuck-sa”.

If you think you’ve seen everything, go to Harajuku. The people there will freak you out. God knows what the place was like before Gwen Stefani made the place her bitch.

When paying for stuff, always use their little dish next to the till to hand over your yen. If you hand over a bill worth 10,000 yen, and the cashier says something you don’t understand, they are simply asking for more correct change. This statement is correct in 99% of cases. In the chance you experience the 1%, they are either thanking you for your business, or apologizing profusely… because they’re polite like that.

When going to see Mt Fuji, make sure you obtain a Hakone Free Pass at Odawara station. This will save you billions of yen, especially if you’re staying there for a couple days.

If you don’t smoke, be sure to get a non-smoking seat in the Shinkansen. Japanese smokers belch smoke like coal power plants. However, having said that, simply breathing the Tokyo “air” makes you wake up with the feeling like you’ve had a pack of smokes filtered through your organs.

Do not go to Japan in March. The scenery is an ashen colour, which only contributes to the feeling of cold. Wait until April for the cherry blossoms to come out. I hear the explosion of pink can kill small animals.

If you’re asked about “how many (something) you would like”, use your fingers to signal the amount. You cannot state the numbers you’ve no doubt memorized in your head, as they’ve changed the rules. For instance, when asked how many sugars you want in your coffee, you cannot say “ni” – the number of two. It is “futatsu”. However, the Tully’s coffee shop in the NS building in Shinjuku has a polite waitress who will patiently correct you, giggle momentarily and then no doubt slander you when you’ve left the place.

Speaking of Tully’s, if you walk past one in Ginza at the right time, you can score a free coffee. A girl with a tray full of coffees steps onto the sidewalk and offers you one. It is much needed sustenance for the weary traveler who belongs in Ginza as much as a puma belongs among a group of pigeons.

There you go… words of wisdom from someone who hasn’t really experienced much of Japan at all. If you have any queries at all, ask someone who has taught English over there. If you don’t know someone who has, then chances are you know someone who knows someone who has.

Coming back to Earth

I think I’ve exhausted everything I could possibly regale you about a mere couple weeks in Japan.

Aside from the little experience of accidentally hopping onto a women’s only train carriage (they had a groping problem over there), speaking vocally with my friend about my affinity for Japanese women, safe in the knowledge that noone understood me… before realising that the smiling woman standing next to my friend actually DID understand what I was saying.

She politely pointed out the giant pink sign that indicated that we were on a women’s only carriage, and then scurried away.

Anyway, I have assimilated back into Australia, and I have gotten over there whole “Australia sucks because it’s not Japan” syndrome that probably afflicts first time overseas adventurers.

Well… I’ve been to New Zealand twice… but that’s not really overseas.

But I am back. On Sunday I sat down and watched with disgust at the media’s constant info-whoring over the miner’s trapped in Beaconsfield.

Then Mr Carleton from 60 minutes asked his question about why miners were still being sent to dangerous areas… was it because of the mine’s greed? Blahdy blah, blah.

I thought to myself, “Oh for fuck’s sake… this press conference isn’t the time or place or to be shit stirring, you sensationalist arsehole… this conference was to brief everyone on the process and progress, not a chance for you to fling faeces and do a grandstanding of Michael Moore proportions… and he’s a big guy”

Ah… normality. I had resumed my normal, media-hating tirade.

Then the guy dropped dead. Heart attack.

He had asked the question, turned around, walked a couple metres and dropped dead.

As much as I hate 60 minutes, I'd still love to eventually bow out like how Richard Carleton did…

He bought the big one… doing what he loved.

The lesson

Did you ever stop to think that telling people that Japan is “so different” is actually quite stupid? “Hey, I went to another country! What was it like? Oh, TV had shown me that Japan had different looking people, different climates, different flora, different fauna, different food, different architecture, different customs, different language, different culture… and you know what? …it was really, really… different!”

I should really stop describing Japan like that.

Some have asked me if it has inspired me somewhat, and I have to say that it has.

But not solely in the whole “kick me up the arse and write my book” thing - although there has been plenty of that.

But I’ve taken a look at my life and realized the whole humdrum of it all and how I factor into this little slot of time I call life.

And again I feel so stupid for not realising this before, but there is more to life than gas-brake-honk-pay-bill-answer-phone-scrimp-savings-correct-spellchecker-for-putting-z-in-realizing-argh-there-it-goes-again-yell-at-idiots-on-phone-punch-wall-lay-on-desk-sobbing-give-up-on-humanity-pick-up-phone-again-wonder-why-I-did-that-because-I-had-just-given-up-on-humanity-and-why-oh-why-didn’t-I-learn-smack-forehead-catch-bus-go-home-sleep-have-nightmares-of-idiots-wake-up-screaming… gas-brake-honk.

I guess if I was to take anything away from the trip, it’s that there are opportunities everywhere to break out into. This idea of holing myself up in a building in order to maintain a lifestyle is self defeating.

Why can’t I have my lifestyle maintain my lifestyle?

I am on the verge of giving up my day job… after I get my long service leave, natch.

I am venturing out into the world of the unknown, cliché and all. This nine-to-five desk job is a one-way route to Noone-ville, Humdrumton, and MeLikeV8carsAh’yuck City.

I’m tired of this.

I should be working with what’s out there… not working to see what’s out there.