Topsy-turvy

I don't know where to start. Today the world is a little weird. Maybe it's because of Easter. Who knows? All I know is that the coffee I had this morning has given me the shakes and they match the mood of the day.

I won't bore you too much with my life, but I do want to share a morning train story with you because I really think there's something in the air and if you sniff too much of it you're likely to do something crazy. Like, for example, follow people asking for "money for the bus" while savagely swigging your bottle of near-empty alcohol, like the man I met on my way to work.

Back to my story:

This morning my train was oddly deserted. The strange part isn't that it was a bit empty, that's just pre-Easter vacationing for you, what I mean is that the people on the train were odd. In some bizarre way they resembled the cast of a Village People video clip. For example, next to me was a woman who looked like she'd just come back from a night out - smudged makeup, micro mini and a wild "Toto, I don't think we're in Kings Cross anymore" look in her eyes. Puzzling, considering that it's Wednesday, the Cross isn't on the North Shore line and that she would have had to come from Hornsby and I don't think anything exciting has ever happened there. I called her "Phillis". If you saw her you would understand.

Opposite Phillis were two young, religious types with name badges. I'm not sure which denomination they belonged to but they smiled kindly at her while patting their religious texts and trying very hard not to judge. I think if Phillis had been more sober/lucid she might have taken their looks more kindly, but as it was she just glared at them and (I believe) had she any control over her head, she would have covered them in expletives.

To their left was an old man who looked like he'd just come from his retirement home in Barbados. He was sublimely unaware of his surroundings. Perhaps because in his mind he was lying on the beach or maybe because his bright yellow shirt had blinded him into a passive, happy stupor.

There were also a couple of business types trying to look busy and important (and most likely regretting their decision to come into work instead of heading out of town with the rest of the Sydneysiders).

So after keeping company with all of the above for most of my train ride*, I was prepared for the news...well not really, but close.

I'm going to skip over the Abbott-Rudd debacles for now. There's just so much material that it needs its own blog...maybe even two.

An honourable mention goes out to Malcolm Turnbull's ETS outburst. It will also receive a blog when I find a few moments.

Aside from bullying USA teenagers, Bosnian genocide apologies (almost), music stars (and their greenie groups) getting blasted by the Kimberlee indigenous community and other such tales, I'm going to direct your attention to two stories that particularly hit a spot with me.

The first is about strange comments made by Glenn Stevens (of the RBA) on God's responsibility -- or the lack of -- in the global financial crisis. Perhaps I missed the memo, but since when does religion have anything to do with finance? And why would the question of "where was God when good, honest financial, stockbroking and law institutions toppled?" even come up? It seems like, if there is a God, it would be in his best interest to get rid of little hubs of evil**.

It's all just a little too strange. Have a read yourself. (Secretly I think it was just a way for the governor of the RBA to boast about his guitar skills).

The other story is this highly disturbing report of a hospital allegedly dumping 21 babies into a river in China. Insane! Awful!

Sorry to leave you on such a grizzly note, but it's just that kind of day...

*most got off at either Wynyard or Central, except Phillis who stayed glued to her seat. I think she was hoping that the train would eventually take her back to Kings Cross.

**I'm of course not saying that every institution that toppled was evil or presuming God's motivations, all I'm saying is that the purity of such institutions is questionable.

To my blog, on being a bad partner

I'm sorry. I've been neglecting you.

No, don't give me that look. I know you're disappointed and that your pages have been missing my erratic - often slightly brutish - touch.

You don't need to remind me how much has happened in the world while I've been missing. For one, a giant dog may have set a new world record.

The Guinness jury is still out, but at seven foot this could be the biggest dog in the world.












Pretty impressive.

In other exciting developments, a new species of human has been found in Siberia.

A Dr Krause and his team found a finger which they swiftly put through DNA testing and discovered was rather old and belonged to a species of human that slid somewhere between the Homo Erectus and the Neanderthal.

Not only is this an exciting development for the scientific world, but also a story in which the journalist decided to flex her poetic muscle:

"The extraordinary find brings to four the number of human species thought to have roamed the earth at the time."

Smiled my heart, when my eyes that sentence read.

I'm also particularly fond of the reaction of the scientist who Dr Krause called with his discovery:
"At first I didn't really believe him, I thought he was pulling my leg," said Professor Paabo.

I like how this sentence suggest that this group of scientists (who, I should mention, dubbed the ancient owner of the digit "X-woman") pull crazy pranks on each other all the time...and that a call regarding a discovered finger could substantiate just such a hilarious prank.

Sometimes I wish that I was a scientist. Journalism can be so lacklustre and humourless sometimes. I can't remember the last time someone called me to say they'd discovered a severed piece of human anatomy and wanted me to examine it. Where's the laughter? Where's the joy?

I'd like to apologise...

Today I find myself in a reflective mood. The kind of reflective mood that makes me acutely aware and deeply sorry for the injustices in the world. So in lieu of an apology (the right, sincere kind, I mean) from our politicians and other responsible parties, I thought I'd take charge and set a few things right.

So I'd like to apologise to:

1. Anybody not acquainted with Sydney's random bus system. I have lived in Sydney for close to 18 years and I still don't know which bus I should be catching to get where I want, when to push the stop button in order to avoid speeding past the only landmark I can recognise, how to identify how many "zones" I'm meant to be travelling (I just defect to 3-5 when put on the spot) and why some buses arbitrarily become "prepaid only" (usually when you hand the driver a fistful of 20c pieces). I'd like for someone to explain the dysfunctional system to me, but really I think it might just all come down to the people responsible having been drunk, high or distracted by just how pretty national parks can be, at the time of creating the system. So, for that, I apologise.


2. Anybody who turns on the TV expecting to hear news and instead gets the latest (mundane) update on Lara Bingle's love life. "After drinking a glass of milk, washing the glass and putting it into the dish dryer upside-down because it dries faster that way, Lara Bingle was seen getting out her car keys and using them to open her car door (pause for effect) without Michael Clarke" etc. I really don't have any consoling words to offer you. I'd advise you to shoot your TV and throw it out the window, but firstly we're not in America, so firepower is a little hard to come by, and secondly even if you did manage to get hold of a pistol, all of your hard work and sacrifice would be wasted the moment you turned on your computer or bought a newspaper. So, sorry.


3. Anybody who has heard an inebriated group of Australians shout/slur: "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi oi oi". I'll let the chant slide as an expression of Australian support within the boundaries of a sporting arena (although really I think if we put our collective minds together we could come up with something wittier), but I don't think it has a place in polite society. I am particularly repentant in cases where the chant is combined with Aussie paraphernalia.


4. To the many generations (past, present and future) of English speakers who have been subjected, are being subjected and will be subjected to the use of "youse". No that word does not exist in the English language. Yes the plural for "you" is "you". Get it?! Good. Stop poisoning our language! This apology is extended to anybody who is learning to speak English. So once again for good measure: it's "you" not "youse".


5. To anybody who has suffered through four points of my ranting and made it here. I think it's clear by now that I had no material for today's blog. So, sorry, but I am harbouring a killer hangover (no I didn't drink a lot, I'm just a bit of a whoopsie). Either way I'm quite confident that it was in a similar state of mind that Hitler said "hey, do you know what? Let's invade Russia" or the Liberal Party said "That Tony Abbott guy isn't a complete nutter, let's make him leader" or the producers of "Neighbours" said "Hey do you know what would be a great idea? Let's combine the dramatic tension of the Bold and the Beautiful with a poor plot line and actors with the talent and charisma of a baked potato."

Anyway, I love a good rant and while that one wasn't particularly good*, it did the trick. So bye...and sorry.

*One final apology for point 5. I know the examples weren't great, so I'm going to come clean. The source of my inspiration was my blog and my dinner.

image credit: 123Greetings.com

Baby's first porn

Today is a good day for news. A good day. Not only did I find out that Adolf Hitler had malicious plans for cricket after he and his mates got thrashed at the game in 1923, but that a whole lot of children got their first experience of porn because of a technical glitch.

That's right folks, according to this story a few North Carolina children got more than they bargained for when a children's cartoon channel got cross-wired with the Playboy channel.

"Young viewers of children's television programs in North Carolina got a glimpse of something far more risque than their favourite cartoons, when a cable glitch broadcast two hours of the Playboy channel."

I like the smirk behind that sentence.

The incident happened between 6:15am and 8:15am. I'm not sure what kind of material Playboy plays at that time, but according to the report it involves "scantily clad women striking suggestive poses and talking dirty." *

Apparently the cable operator was made aware of the problem when parents called in.

I would have liked to be a fly on the wall...I'm just not sure on which wall; on that of the parents at the moment they found their innocent five year old learning what Debbie does or that of the cable operator at the moment the calls came in.

*ha ha ha, when do journalists ever get to write sentences like that?!

Adolf Hitler played cricket?!

It seems strangely foreign, but it's true. The Nazi tyrant known for his moustache and mass genocide during WWII, gave cricket a bash. Apparently he wasn't very good so, naturally, he tried to re-write the rules.

Have a read of this story. Other than the occasional reference to cricket as "the world's greatest game" it's rather fascinating.

On: Worst news report ever?

Since I first wrote the below "Worst news report ever?" blog, more facts have been added to the story - even the headline got changed.

But, luckily I have the original right here for you:

Worst news report ever?

I probably haven't been around long enough to speak in finite terms, but I think I may have just read one of the worst news reports in living and non-living history.

Not only does it disregard grammar and syntax, but it makes no logical sense. Please read this story and tell me whether you understand what happened.

Now let me break it down for you:
It starts off well with the ultra funky headline "Kevin Rudd halts QT to ambush Tony Abbott on health".

The ambiguity over "QT" allows for so many fun possibilities:

"Kevin Rudd halts quality time to ambush Tony Abbott"

"Kevin Rudd halts quince tart to ambush Tony Abbott"

etc.

To my great disappointment though, in this case "QT" did not mean either of those but stood for "question time". You might think this is a bit obvious, but I'd still argue that journalists shouldn't use ambiguous abbreviations. Save it for texting. It just looks lazy.

Moving on. What is more unclear from the news report is what this "ambush" actually involved.

"Putting the Oppsoition (sic) Leader on the spot after he responded to Mr Rudd's taunts that he explain his position, Mr Abbott quickly recovered to accuse the Rudd government of lying to voters."

Errr...what? Let me slide in a common proper noun to make sense of the above:

"Putting Abbott on the spot after Abbott responded to Mr Rudd's taunts that Abbott explain Abbott's position, Abbott quickly recovered to accuse the Rudd government of lying to voters."

No, that didn't make anything clearer (except that the journalist responsible is in dire need of English lessons).

This is what I think the general message was: When Rudd unexpectedly asked Abbott to explain his position on health, the opposition leader responded by calling Rudd a liar. Mature.

But the story goes on:

"The ambush tactics included Labor MPs extending his time to speak to put the unprepared Liberal leader to the test."

Again, let me translate this into English: Labor MPs extended Abbott's speaking time, in order to put the Liberal leader to the test.

So how did Abbott explain his health proposal?

""What a complete fake!" Mr Abbott yelled across the chamber at the Prime Minister. Forced to withdraw his lying charge as unparliamentary, he accused Mr Rudd of telling "grotesque untruths"."

Firstly, I have to commend the opposition leader for behaving in such a dignified way. Secondly I should make it clear that contrary to what the journalist wrote, the charge wasn't lying. Abbott simply had to withdraw his accusations that the PM was a liar. Thirdly I'd like to share my fondness for the "parliamentary" and "unparliamentary" classifications. I wonder whether there's a list:

Liar - unparliamentary ** Teller of grotesque untruths - parliamentary

Dickhead - unparliamentary ** Man with phallic-shaped noggin - parliamentary

Thief - unparliamentary ** One who borrows without intention of returning- parliamentary

.

Back to the story. To end the defence of his health proposal, Abbott questioned Rudd's ability to deliver on health by using the bungled insulation program as a basis for attack...again.

.

I wonder just how long he's going to hold onto that before people catch on to the fact that insulation and health actually have very little in common.

.

I'd also like to draw your attention to the fact that other than a poor account of a parliamentary tiff , nothing about the content of the meeting was mentioned. At the end of the story we know that the men don't like each other very much, but we still have no idea what was said regarding health. Good Work!

Fuming!

Of all the inept, unprofessional, half-brained nitwits in the world, I think the boy and I have been lucky enough to land the queen bee as our property manager.

She is so gloriously incompetent that she makes Tony Abbott look like someone who could be trusted to run a country. This has earned her a special spot in my fictitious rocket of people I'd like to shoot into space. In fact, I think she's been bumped up to take a seat in front of Lara Bingle (and anyone who cares about Miss Bingle's life...although I'm yet to find a single person outside of a group of "news" reporters that falls into that category).

I'm not going to get into a long diatribe over her (our property manager's) shortcomings. Don't think me selfless, it has nothing to do with your comfort or interest, I simply do not want to spend a week pounding away at a keyboard listing them all.

I will say that she might be the closest creature the world has to a dodo - and perhaps sheds some understanding on why early explorers had such few qualms about beating them to death. Although I believe the dodo would have been much cuter and wasn't (by any historical account I can find) ever put in charge of a property portfolio.

I will treat you to an example of the ineptitude we've dealt with for 11 months:

Recently Mark rang up to ask her for our rent BPAY number. Her response was: "oh that's not my problem....look on your bank statement, I'm sure it's there somewhere".

Yup.

Anyway when I started this blog I was furious about her lack of professionalism and how dimwitted simpletons like her could be put into a position of any sort of power. But the thought of her being stuck on a rocket with Kyle and Jackie O, Lady Ga Ga, Shane Warne, anybody who doesn't understand the concept of allowing people to exit a lift before ploughing in and several thousand other celebrities, politicians, sports stars and other class-A morons, has magically made me feel better. Hail the power of imagination!

When you know you've taken a joke too far...

Sure, convincing your eight year old friend that "moving" sand dunes operated so quickly that if he didn't stay attached to his mother, he was likely to get completely lost (and then watching him nervously shadow his parents for the following hour) may seem like a cruel prank -- no matter how funny it seemed to my six year old brain.

Freaking my sister out with a hysterical phone call (on April Fools Day) during which I told her that I'd just broken up with my boyfriend after finding out I was pregnant with triplets...sure that may seem like taking the joke too far (I'm sure I would be more repentant if she had actually believed me)...but even I have my limits.

Want to talk about inappropriate? How about telling a terrified, vulnerable nation of people that they're about to undergo a savage Russian attack? Hmmm...yup not my idea of a good joke either.

But that's exactly what one media "spoof" show did. In my opinion this should earn them the "media/propaganda jerk of the year" award.

Deja vu-hicle

I knew eventually it would happen. Well actually I didn't so much know as have a vague sense that one day it would happen. And today, it did. I got into a cab and recognised the driver.

Let me just put the wonder of this experience in perspective for you:

The Sydney Taxi service is the largest in the Southern Hemisphere with around 4,800 cars and 20,000 drivers (according to the NSW taxi service site). Even if we assume that I've taken two cabs a week, every week for the past five years, I would have only come into contact with 520 vehicles. The odds of getting the same driver twice would be very slim. Very, very slim.

I'm also not known for my memory. In fact to date I have managed to misplace seven mobile phones, two cameras and three sets of keys, all thanks to my memory. If I ever have children, they will be in grave danger of being left at the playground and re-named at least three times. So the chances of me remembering some stranger who I'd shared a fifteen minute cab ride with are truly miniscule.

And yet today, as I exchanged stories about -20 degree days with my friendly taxi driver, it suddenly dawned on me that I actually had spoken to him before. Some very strong intuition also told me that he had daughters, so I hazarded a guess:

Me: "Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure I've met you before. You have lots of daughters."
Cabbie: "Yes, four"
Me: ""And the youngest two are something like five and seven."
Cabbie: "Yes, five and eight. The youngest one just started school."
Me: "And the older ones are quite older. One's going to Mac uni and another one was looking for work."
Cabbie: "Yes. She found a job."
Etc.

I have no idea which dormant part of my brain had woken up or what shook it out of hibernation, but I was overjoyed with the experience. The driver didn't partake in my excitement and looked rather nervous.

In his defence, I don't suppose it's every day that you're greeted by a frazzled looking stranger who is rattling off facts about your life in a growing state of euphoria. Especially considering that the revelations came directly after talking about how important it is to "wash yourself" with snow if you ever fall into a frozen lake (something I learned from Man vs Wild: Siberia).

In the end I left the cab with an eerie sense of deja vu and a new found confidence in my brain, and the driver of the vehicle probably sped off, picked his girls up from school and had another "stranger danger" talk with them.

On an unrelated note: Morphsuits. I'm speechless.

Jobs I never knew I always wanted

Dear Mrs Forgot-Your-Name,

Firstly apologies for forgetting your name, but as you will discover through the course of this letter, it was probably done for good reason.

I'm writing to complain about the career choices that were presented to me in my formative high school years.

I realise that your IQ level and significant limitations in social abilities were obstacles to your understanding of possible career choices. I also acknowledge that you were blindsided by your discovery of, and subsequent obsession with, TAFE and the possibility of prematurely ridding the school of a good percentage of its students, but I nonetheless feel that I have been hard done by.

Omitting law, medicine, finance and all of the other professional fields beyond your realm of comprehension, I'd like you to consider and add the following jobs to your portfolio (alphabetically they will fit on your list somewhere between "drop kick", "waitress" and "xerox machine operator").

• Web developer - This is both the antithesis of journalism and a good way to make bundles: deadlines mean nothing, communication is unnecessary, the money made is obscene and the end result doesn't have to resemble the brief. Apart from a few good eggs it is an industry of people who get paid very much to do very little.


• Tiger trainer - The internship description on the T.I.G.E.R site is: "This is a full time, 365 days a year task. It takes all of your time, with no vacations and no free time off except in the evenings, a few times a year for the first year or two." Which, as you will note, is not that far from journalism except that you get to play with tiger cubs. "We start pay at $100 per week and give you a place to live with pool and hot tub. We pay all utilities/phone, electric, gas, cable and laundry. We also provide a car for you to drive. We also pay for all of the food when travelling. This all equals to about $1000 per month +. You may make more money as you become a trainer. We have paid up to $3,500 per week to trainers on jobs that they solely operate." So, to summarise, you get to spend all of your time in a resort-style zoo playing with tigers. Once you've done a sufficient amount of playing (about two years' worth), you can earn up to $182,000 a year...


• Whatever the job description is for this - The people in this video clip (and look how many of them there are) look super pleased with themselves. And why shouldn't they? It's like dominoes-meets-lego for adults...(Thanks go out to my friend Verity for finding it).


• Embassy/consulate worker - Although I would have to adopt a whole repertoire of new frowns and develop an appropriately condescending voice, I'd be prepared to do it for a two-hour shift three times a week, during which I'd simply have to tell people that they're better off getting things sorted overseas.


• A Sydney Ferries Corporation Outer Harbour Engineer - According to this story in The Daily Telegraph (cough, cough), people in this occupation earn $92,000 a year and get 165 days off (including 104 rostered days off, 11 public holidays, 25 days annual leave, 12 days "maritime leave" and 13 days "leisure leave").

While I can't really complain about my chosen profession (I do have an obsession with words and grammar that lends itself to hours of unpaid overtime which -- strangely enough -- I quite enjoy), but I feel that given the opportunity I would have found a similar fondness for not doing much at all and getting paid an adult wage for it.

I hope you die in a ditch.

Disenchanted,

Agnes Gajewska

On a semi-related note, here is a forum I found on the subject of cool jobs. It does not reflect kindly on the intelligence of our species. It also makes me suspect that Mrs Forgot-Your-Name has expanded her realm of influence.

I think I'm in love!

I have found a site that meets all of my internet requirements. It is both informative and extremely insightful...or is that misinformed and slightly delusional? Oh who cares, in either case, it was just what I needed to brighten up my day.

The site I speak of is called Yes Australia (powerful!) and although it doesn't seem to have an "about us" section, I am moderately confident that it is the authority on living in Australia for Spanish-speaking visitors.

Here are some of my favourite quotes:

"Australians tend to follow each other a bit, like sheep on a hill." - good analogy! Wait. What? Don't worry, there's an explanation:
"This happens because of the stability of Australian Institutions and the strong economy." Ahhhh...
"For example, since the beginning of 2003 there has been a boom in the housing market, which has made thousands of Australians buy and sell homes for investment. The result has been that so many people did it created a steep rise in house prices."For a couple of months every single place I went, the talk was about houses. Because of this stability, Australians tend to plan for the long term, which can make life a little bit boring sometimes."

And the question on all visitors' lips: are Australians competitive?
"In reality, Australia is considered one of the most competitive nations on Earth."
So you can tell your imaginary friend he was wrong! Use this helpful example to back up your argument:
"Australians surfers broke a long-term hold on the Surf Scene by the Americans and Hawaiians, and today there is not a single international contest without at least many Aussies running in top position."

So what of Aussie pastimes, like going to the movies?
"Cinemas in Australia are disappearing from the streets and are moving to inside Shopping Centres. Most are now divided in many smaller theatres, showing 3 or 4 different movies at the same time."
But don't worry. If you can locate these disappearing cinemas, a thrilling discovery awaits you:
"Thursdays have become a big day out in Australia, cause the Shopping Centres are open for extended hours; 9pm instead of the regular 5pm. Young people use this time to catch up on gossip!"

What about the beaches? Am I okay to wear a bikini?
"At the beach it is more common to wear shorts than Speedos or bikinis, for both, males and females. Australians don't like to show off their bodies pretty much, still a consequence from the 1900's, when it was prohibited to have a swim in the ocean and wear nothing that could permit a tan on your skin."

If you have some time, read this site. It is incredibly insightful.

The only thing I'm pondering now is whether it was written by:

a) Pauline Hanson
b) An ex rugby league player
or
c) A drunk child

Thoughts?

Mexico or India to blame for dinosaur extinction?

Deviating slightly from today's political climate and the "Rudd vs the world" debacle over health reform, I'd like to point out this rather strange article in today's web edition of The Australian: "Dinosaurs killed off by Mexican asteroid, not Indian volcano".

You can read it here, but I find that my version (below) is a little closer to the mark:

Scientists confident in own theory

A group of 41 scientists confident that a huge asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs have released a report saying that they are right.

The report entitled "Dinosaurs did too die because of an asteroid impact...times infinity" was released to fight off criticism by scientists who believed that a volcano explosion in India was to blame for the demise of the prehistoric beasts.

The criticism came after "some researchers" found that debris discovered at the Chicxulub impact site in Mexico was some 300,000 years too old to have been responsible.

The new report states that debris further from the crater is (coincidentally) just the right age to have started the extinction process. It also claims that a wimpy volcano could not have had that strong an impact on earth.

Following the release of the report, its author Joanna Morgan of Imperial College London said that the asteroid theorists now had "great confidence" in their own belief. Before the report was filed, their confidence in their own theory was only moderately great, she added.

Another member of the report team suggested that a good way of determining the sequence of events that led to dinosaur extinction would be to look further away from the impact site. The debris closer to the site, he said, made their extinction theory too easy to disprove.

P.S.
For the record, I'm more inclined to believe that an asteroid, rather than a volcano, killed the dinosaurs, but before I commit to that theory I'd like some indisputable evidence, not "based on our biased beliefs we are confident that we are right"...bah humbug!

Kid directs plane traffic at JFK

How can you not read a story with a headline like that? You can't. You simply must stop doing productive work, break right in the middle of the Pulitzer-worthy sentence you were writing and turn your full attention to where paranoid overreaction triumphs over common sense.

As you might guess from the headline "Kid directs plane traffic from control tower at JFK airport", some squirt on a break from school got to play around with the communication system at JFK airport under the watchful eye of an adult.

The article states: "A school-aged child could be heard on voice recordings talking to jets as they waited to take off. The child appeared to be repeating instructions given to him by a male employee in the tower."

Well yes, either the child was repeating instructions or had a severe case of schizophrenia. For the record I agree with the journalist and the authorities - it would appear that the child was repeating instructions.

Where the story takes an unexpected turn is with the launch of the FAA investigation. Yes, that's right, the Federal Aviation Administration decided to suspend the two air traffic control tower employees involved and ban all unofficial visits to the control towers to conduct an investigation. It is also likely that it has ordered anti-terrorism teams to watch the door of the control tower and shoot any unauthorised person trying to gain access.

Speaking of "the incident" the FAA administrator, Randy Babbitt, said, "This lapse in judgement not only violated FAA's own policies, but common sense standards for professional conduct. These kinds of distractions are totally unacceptable."

A bit of an overreaction? Not at all! Just imagine that if, instead of dutifully repeating the instructions given to him, the child had started singing "I'm a little tea pot". All of the pilots and ground staff would be caught up in the pantomime movements of the song and mayhem would be sure to ensue.

(Can't you just imagine the worried looks on the Botoxed faces of the evening reporters? "At just past four o'clock this afternoon five planes collided injuring hundreds. It is believed the accident occurred when all five pilots tipped over to pour themselves out, letting the controls of their planes slip...")

Or worse - imagine if a terrorist took hold of the tower and started shouting, "Crash into each other! All planes are to crash into each other!" Oh the humanity!

Perhaps the strangest part of the story is that the incident occurred in mid-February, but was only reported yesterday when the recordings were posted on the internet. It appears social networking sites have claimed another victim.

But considering that the FAA wouldn't have known about the incident unless some goon saw it online, you have to wonder whether the right people are under investigation. Shouldn't at least some of the blame be placed with the person who was in charge of reporting any irregular air traffic control announcements?

Before I go, I do have to commend the journalist of this article for the slightly mocking tone in the final paragraph:

"The pilots receiving instructions from the child did not appear too concerned with one pilot saying "awesome job"."

Good work. Awesome job.

Why is there a shower in the kitchen?!

This is not a question that anybody wants to have to ask, but it was the one that my friends Anne and Ron were faced with when they set out to renovate a dilapidated warehouse.

There seems to be no logical explanation for it; but there in the corner of the kitchen, tiled in tight white squares, stood a shower cubicle - and a large one at that.

I volunteered my brainpower to solving the mystery - why would you put a shower in the kitchen? Here's what I came up with:

1. As an ice-breaker. "Hi I'm Bob and I have a shower in my kitchen, what's your name?"
2. Because you, your builder and the talking camel in the corner agreed that taking another acid trip before a hard day's labour could have no long-term repercussions.
3. To take attention away from the toilet you had installed in the hallway.
4. As a misconceived attempt at impressing your long-term internet chatroom girlfriend who once mentioned she liked to shower and then, in an unrelated sentence, made a reference to her toast being dry.
5. It was a collector's item.
6. To replace the kitchen sink you took along to a party so you could say "I've brought everything including the kitchen sink."
7. To restore symmetry.
8. To prove that washing your hair doesn't need to interfere with making breakfast.
9. Because you have dreams of starting a "wet toast" craze.
10. Tom Cruise probably has one.
11. It was too expensive to get a bathtub.
12. As proof that the IKEA space-saving model has had its failures in the past.
13. As testament to the efficiency of Sven and Inga's ultimate space saving models, even if some big-shot Swedish furniture powerhouse fails to recognise it.
14. To torment Taekwondo masters and journalists with the question "why is there a shower in the kitchen?"

Funniest video ever?

Picture this. It's Russia. It's cold outside and the government has banned all free media. It's cold outside. What to do? What to do? There are only two options: drink vodka or watch television. You walk over to your TV set. You turn it on, then you slowly reach for the bottle of vodka.

Rudd expects good whacking

The Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd, yesterday stepped up to the microphone to say that he expects, and deserves, a good whacking.

Despite initial whisperings that the comments were related to some form of underground S&M activity; it was soon revealed that Rudd was speaking of polls and the reaction to undelivered election promises.

"I expect to be whacked in the polls, and I deserve it," he said in an apology to the nation.

He took responsibility over the insulation scheme, Labor's electoral promise shortcomings, those ugly red brick apartment blocks that were built in Australia in the 80s and several Australian television programmes including (but not limited to) Neighbours, Home and Away and Blue Heelers. He went on to say that if it would help in the polls, he was prepared to take the blame for Tiger Wood's indiscretions as well.

Tony Abbott put heat to the fire by describing Rudd as "rattled" several times. Once he tired of the insult, he added that the PM was also a "poopy head".

Abbott's supporters were too busy pumping their fists and shaking their heads at the Mardi Gras to mount strong support. Although, with just a trace of pride in their voices, they said that the previous PM, John Howard, had never apologised for anything.