Author: Dave

(V)ice cool baby

About a week back, on a bit of a whim (and because it was really quite cheap), I bought the first season of Miami Vice.

It’s Classic. It just exudes cool, even with almost 20 years under it’s belt.

  • The main character lives on a boat
  • Said boat is guarded by a pet alligator (called Elvis) with a personality
  • They seem to travel everywhere by convertible or pencil boat (long thin speed boat classically used to run drugs)
  • The chicks are hot (if you ignore the higher than modern day density of Lycra)
  • The dialog is witty
  • The characters have issues, and histories, and inner demons, and other plot devices that give them actual depth
  • And….
  • Everywhere they go they have a kick ass smokin soundtrack

I love it. I saw the movie recently, and the TV series just walks all over it. Two big thumbs up so far.

Winston Peters = Diplomacy… WTF???

I was watching the news this evening and they were talking about the threatened Coup in Fiji (which is also a concept that seems a bit odd to me. The notion of taking over the country by surprise and seizing power seems to kind of lack something if everyone knows it’s coming weeks ahead of time).

They were talking about the talks run in NZ today to try and avert the crisis, and at the end they showed Winston Peters (subtitled as “New Zealand Foreign Minister”, which is another thing I still haven’t gotten used to) talking about the diplomatic solution that was being worked on. It all seemed incongruous.

Maybe it’s just me but I have a had time associating Winston Peters with the word “Diplomatic”. “Winebox” maybe. “Barfight” certainly, but the idea of Winston as Statesman still seems just a little too much of a stretch for me.

Still, I suppose if he’s getting results I guess we can’t complain. He’s certainly appears to be doing a damn sight more than his Australian counterpart who’s helpful input to date seems to have consisted of alternating between “Australians, don’t go to Fiji” and “Fijians, tut tut tut” (accompanied by the appropriate stern parental finger waggling gestures).

Jack Jack Attack

(this title from the amusing mini-movie on the DVD of The Incredibles, and my friend Chantelle’s favorite instructions to my cat)

I’ve just put up another video of Jack. It’s about 3mb, and shows how Jack has gotten all big and grown up.

Bunnies in space

[No, this post is not dealing with the astronautical talents of Hugh and his associates]

This evening I watched Wallace and Grommit: The curse of the were-Rabbit.

Upon seeing the BunVac 6000 in action I was immediately taken by how cool the rabbits looked floating around in the vacuum chamber, and though that rabbits would really be damn cool in outer space.

Should I ever find myself in a position of owning a space station (make that when I own a space station) I think I shall have to test it out.

I also saw a brief thing on TV this evening about a family that was raising an orphaned baby rock Wallaby, who was also very very cute, and I think they’d go quite well up there too…

Oh, it’s that time of year again

I’m always amused at how quick my brain is to forget why I hate living in Queensland so much, but once again I’ve been reminded: For 6 months a year it’s inhumanly hot here.

It’s just reached the start of those 6 months, and already I’m once again trying to figure how I modify the house so that I can sleep in the fridge.

(And next year we’re moving to Cairns. Sometimes I wonder if I do this to myself on purpose as some sort of punishment for unspecified sins)

Best laid plans

This is basically a public service anouncement to all those people who we have been misleading by telling them we will be going to Townsville next year.

Turns out we’re not. It now seems more likely that we will be going to Cairns instead (although this is still not 100% certain).

Now Cairns is still on the great barrier reef, so the offer still stands to come stay in our spare room and do some snorkling or scuba diving.
I won’t go into the details of how this all happened, basically because they’re long, complicated, political, and most importantly, boring.
Suffice it to say the College of Surgeons can be pretty disorganised and incommunicative (but then again I suppose what beurocracy isn’t).

Jack-larm clock

As it approaches summer it has been getting light earlier and earlier around here, and Jack’s time keeping system seems to be photonic rather than chronographic (and afer we bough him that nice watch for his birthday and all…). He seems to think that 8am is plenty late enough to be sleeping in and not paying him any attention, and so he has taken it upon himself to be a mobile furry alarm clock.

He jumps onto the bed in a heavy way intended to make it shake, walks over you making sure to press his paws into your side/back/stomach (which ever is uppermost), and then stops on the bed just next to your head and stares at you.

Now I don’t know if this is a universal thing (I suspect it is), but I can’t sleep when I feel that someone is staring at me, so having Jack just sitting staring at me is more effective than prying my eyes open with a crow bar. And as soon as I open my eyes he delivers the coup detat, going “Mrow” and rolling onto his back for a belly scratch.

And if you try to ignor him he gently but intentionally scratches you on the back/arm/foot/other exposed surface.

It is a most effective strategy but has gotten him shut out of the bedroom a couple of times, because dammit, I like having a sleep in now and again.

Skink’s nest

Lately Jack has taken up the time honoured and reputable cat sport of Skink hunting.

All our cats when I was growing up would do it, and now Jack’s got in on the game.

The only difference is that the Skinks around here are the largest I’ve ever seen. They’re HUGE.

The first one I saw Jack drag in and bat around the floor was big, but I thought that perhaps it was just a one off abnormally large specimen. After the third one I began to wonder if perhaps skinks lived communinally in nests, and perhaps Jack had stumbled upon the Skink King’s nest.

Whatever the story, Jack hasn’t dragged any in for a few day so perhaps they’ve learned to hide better, or Jack has lost interest in hunting skinks for the time being.

Surely that’s a little early

A few weeks back (ie mid september) Simone and I were out shopping in what is a fairly major department store, and were frankly bewildered to walk through one section of the store and see shop assistants scurrying about unpacking boxes of christmas decorations, merchandise and associated paraphenalia.

Christmas isn’t for 3 months!!! Surely people don’t need that much time to get their stuff together?

It just reinforces my cynicism (there I go using that word again) about the commercial nature of yet another holiday. And it seems to be getting earlier and more pervasive each year.