Author: Nathan Campbell

Nathan runs St Eutychus. He loves Jesus. His wife. His daughter. His son. His other daughter. His dog. Coffee. And the Internet. He is the pastor of City South Presbyterian Church, a church in Brisbane, a graduate of Queensland Theological College (M. Div) and the Queensland University of Technology (B. Journ). He spent a significant portion of his pre-ministry-as-a-full-time-job life working in Public Relations, and now loves promoting Jesus in Brisbane and online. He can't believe how great it is that people pay him to talk and think about Jesus. If you'd like to support his writing financially you can do that by giving to his church.

Will a fright fix this Hicks up?

This post is the result of two recent observations. 1 – Hiccups (or hiccoughs or hic ups) are incredibly hard to dislodge, remove, cure etc. 2 – David Hicks is fast becoming the novelty crusade of choice for the uneducated latte left who run the “intelligent” media in this country. The Sydney Morning Herald put his continued detention at Guacamole* Bay at number 1 in their list of Australia’s crimes against civil liberties. I was watching ABC news last night and they showed a nice friendly pick of Hicks outside his family home. I’m sick of the media rewriting painting Hicks as a confused good guy in this situation.

Let’s face it, Hicks is no angel. He was busted fighting with our enemies (admittedly in the “War on an abstract noun”). Where I come from terrorists aren’t considered to be friends of the Australian cause. I come from Australia. Anyone fighting against Australian soldiers probably deserves to be punished. Despite what the bleeding hearts out there would suggest, I don’t think Hicks would have thought twice before firing one of those rocket launchers at an Australian soldier in the name of Jihad. Hicks, as a result of ideological brainwashing, or by his own choice, was in the Middle East waging a religious Jihad. He’d left Australia following a marriage break up and discovered solace in extremist Islam.

I’m fairly sure most intelligent people see it that way as well – the argument for his release, or at the very least his trial comes from a desire to see the western system of law upheld. In this instance it may be a case of upholding the law at the expense of justice. At this point Hicks hasn’t really broken any laws. He can’t be tried under the Geneva Convention because he wasn’t fighting for an official military organisation. He can’t be tried under Australian or American law because no relevant law exists (or exists covering the time of his capture). Why would the Australian or American governments want to release him back into the general public?
He’s a man who’s letters home say he’s fighting to ensure “the Western-Jewish domination is finished, so we live under Muslim law again”.

There’s a compelling case for him to be tried and properly jailed (rather than tortured in no man’s land) on the base of basic human rights and international standards – but the argument that he’s being hard done by and putting him up as a cause for Australian’s to be fighting for is kind of missing the point. He’s a bad guy. Not a good guy who made mistakes. There hasn’t really been any suggestion of remorse from Hicks for his actions and it doesn’t seem likely that that will occur – if he’s not backing down in the face of the terrible treatment he’s receiving at Guantanamo then he’s not going to back down. If he’s not going to back down it puts the Australian government between a rock and a hard place. This is a guy who’s physically fighting against “our” “western” ideology. Why should the governments in question seek to release him?

There’s a long standing debate between proponents of the left and right wings over whether the penal system is designed to punish or rehabilitate. At this point Hicks shows no apparent signs of rehabilitation (granted access to Hicks and his mental state is not something we have readily available) and the question of whether he’s been appropriately punished depends on his exact actions in his “jihad.”

There are too many issues simmering in the Guantanamo Bay crock pot for this to be a cut and dried case. The legality of Guantanamo Bay is balanced against the necessity of having somewhere to store these unlawful combatants (in the old days they would have just been shot). The holding of someone obviously needing holding against their rights to a trial process… It’s a situation that’s too hard for anyone to get completely right. The one thing I’m sure of is that those calling for the canonisation of a man fighting for Osama Bin Laden have it wrong.

* (sic) – the Herald didn’t get it wrong, I just thought it was slightly funny** at the time.
** I’ve changed my mind now but can’t be bothered changing the joke.

Season’s Greetings…

Summer, Autumn and Winter say hi. Spring is going through a rough stage of cantankerous adolescence and refuses to contribute to this letter. That joke was bad enough to stay in.

The Christmas letter is traditionally a soul destroying exercise. Be it an update on the illnesses of a particularly insufferable suffering hypochondriac relative. Or the celebratory tones of conceited parents pompously proclaiming their darling scion’s achievements while adopting a sufficiently Australian air of “self deprecation” with regards to their own personal achievements for the purposes of humour – or to somehow make their ravings more palatable to the average apathetic reader… I have no such qualms. I’m good – and you all know it. So here’s a graphic retelling of my year to date – referring where possible to events not recorded in the archives of this blog.

With a degree of symmetry and some synergy – my year ended where it began – in Townsville. Well, technically I wasn’t in Townsville until the 20th of January when I made the trek North in pursuit of work experience. Those who know the back story realise I had other motives when making the trip north. The less said about that chapter of this year the better – but this story like all classic Disney tales has a happy ending. Spending three weeks in the newsrooms of Townsville’s finest broadcast media outlets (WIN and 4TO take a bow) was enough to give me a taste for life in the tropics (the employment opportunities in Brisbane for underperforming journalism graduates also had me searching for jobs in a more regional millieu – I like the word millieu and will therefore use it…).

Upon my return to Brisbane I bid a fond farewell to my abode in Lorimer Terrace – the Lorimer House of Fun dissolved (some would say that the fun truly left when the original fellow occupants entered wedlock, parental domiciles and fled the country due to “visa” complications only to return at a later date and resume occupancy – but what would those naysayers know). I returned to my parent’s place of residence in ensuing weeks as I secured employment in the North and said my fond farewells to life in the state’s capital.

This brings us to March and my relocation to Townsville had immediate ramifications for the city with the significant change in air pressure caused by my arrival resulting in the onslaught wraught by Tropical Cyclone Larry. Sometime this year I realised the professional value of a good anecdote – and my “baptism by cyclone” – where I was truly “thrown in the deep end” and kept my “head above water” became a favourite tale at networking functions.

In June I adopted a small stingray named Max who had an inherrent distrust of khaki – he was released when he failed to come to terms with my love for footlong chicken fillet subs (on parmesan oregano with thousand island dressing, barbeque sauce and a smattering of sweet chilli – add salad “to taste” for the perfect Subway experience).

In July I was subpoened to appear at the trial of Saddam Hussein – my evidence was eventually striken/struck/smote from the records as my complete ignorance of the Iraqi judicial process was revealed. Some suggested this occured when I tried to offer Saddam’s body guard wheat for weapons – an action completely against national protocol. The subtle change in nuance was lost on me.

August saw a lengthy debate on the correct spelling of the word ‘ey’ when used as punctuation – and the different inflections/variations required when using ey in a variety of sentences. A valuable learning experience for all those relocating to regional Queensland. And in real life my stunning record of 22.75 years of being romantically unattached (at least mutually) came to an end.

In September I virtually climbed Mount Everest – In summ(it)ing up… I stopped to rescue several others who were struggling with backpacks loaded with spam and other novelty kitchen equipment provided on loan by an Australian snowboarding champion.

October and November were notable only for the discovery of the “cat poo coffee” and my attempt to radioactively assassinate several ex-employees of the Kremlin. I’ve always stood by my belief that sushi is bad for your health.

In December I conducted extensive experiments into the effects of Christmas chocolate, steak and alcohol on the waistline/weightline. I hypothesised that there would only be a moderate effect and was wrong to the tune of about 5000 grams. Which leads me to my decision to take up a gym membership today. On the first business day of the new year. Just in time for the “new year’s resolution specials.”

For a more serious summary of my year continue reading the following paragraphs…

The Townsville adventure continues with my enjoyment and satisfaction with the decision to move north still trending upward on the great graph of life. Work is challenging, satisfying (at least for the stomach), and gives me free reign to play with words and write puns. Basically it’s my ideal job. The home front is also enjoyable – the change/holiday dichotomy/equilibrium/paradox holds true. Having fled the chaos of a house full of 5 (including me) argumentative males (including me) I find much relief in my new domestically blissful house of just 3 (including me) not so argumentative males. Church is also good – moving from a large, established church with working programs and teaching in place across age groups to a growing church in a state of constant flux due to the incredible population turnover that seems to be heading in the right strategic direction with a strong focus on bible teaching has been a mixed blessing. I’m enjoying the highs and lows that come from being part of the early stages of something dynamic while sharing the frustrations of having sporadic attendance dependent on uni timetables and the population change associated with hosting Australia’s largest military barracks. On the personal front, Robyn has been a joy to me – and I take back any criticism I ever levelled at mushy headed boyfriends in my past. I do miss my family, friends and life in Brisbane (particularly the soccer team – my regular weekly indoor fix is a poor substitute for the joy of romping around the grassy fields of Brisbane’s Baptist League) – but have enjoyed meeting a host of new people in Townsville (and reaquainting myself with the particularly outstandingly robust Mr Canavan who always feels like partying).

QED

Tatts is for tough guys

Queensland’s ultimate “boys club” – Tattersalls – is under the gun for once again voting to prevent women taking full membership. The PC police are out in force decrying the move as a backward step in the anti-discrimination movement. How dare they keep women out of a men’s club. How dare they indeed. I’m all for it. A better question is “why shouldn’t men be allowed to have an exclusive club?” The feminist led push for Orwellian “equal” rights (in the Animal Farm sense – some being more equal than others) has gone far enough. Look through Beattie’s cabinet and you’ll see a Minister for Women but no ministry for men. I understand that historically women have been held back on the basis of gender – but based on the male/female ratio in universities this has been thoroughly eradicated with women set to hold their own in the future – the fact that the aging population of corporate executives are predominantly male is just the last vestige of a bygone era. The aging gentry may have some inherent bias towards male candidates but that will soon die out. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks – and later generations have been thorgoughly whelped and weaned on the doctrine of gender equality.
Men have the same rights to associate with who they choose (ie men only) as women do. Why would Sarina Russo and co want to be part of Tattersalls if they so thoroughly oppose the patriachy – there are plenty of other networking opportunities for business women – and there are plenty of specifically female business networking groups. In fact there’s a “businesswoman of the year” award – imagine the outcry if there was a businessman of the year award that was gender exclusive. Men and women are different. No one is foolish enough to suggest otherwise. We have different wiring, different social requirements, and often a very different outlook on life. Boys will, and should, be boys – and require a space to do it in in much the same way that women on university campuses require their “women’s space.” Why should Tattersalls pander to the outrage of a select group of angry women still fighting as if it’s 1969. There are plenty of places for those without a y-chromosone to vent their spleens – they can join a women’s only gym life Fernwood and lift weights until they look like this if that makes them feel better… In the meantime Tattersalls should just work at being less appealing to the fairer sex. Reintroducing spitoons to the bar area would be a start – having toilets without a seat would be another winner – any other suggestions are welcome.

Stay tuned for my blogged “Christmas letter of doom” in the next few days. If you’re anything like me you love reading pages and pages of other people’s “achievements” at this time of year…

Let them eat cake…

While this title refers vaguely to the fact that I had cake to celebrate my birthday at work today (complete with tiara). It’s more to do with the original misquotation of Mary Antoinette.

“Let them eat cake” has been quoted throughout time as fundamental evidence that the elite ruling class is out of touch with the masses. Mary Antoinette was supposedly confronted with the news that her people had no bread to eat – and she infamously replied “qu’ils mangent de la brioche” – wikipedia claims that this quote is in fact a misrepresentation as she was only 10 and living in her native Austria at the time it was documented and was not born when the incident was said to have occurred. Although the quote is not accurate – it represents the disparity between the ruling class of France and its people – a disparity that eventually led to her execution during the French Revolution.

Australia’s politicians and intellectual elite are at the cusp of creating a similar chasm between themselves and those they rule (or us plebs). Fortunately John Howard is the ultimate bridge builder (according to Kevin Rudd he’s built a bridge too far…). I recently subscribed to Crikey – the elite’s trashy gossip magazine. In fact founder Stephen Mayne was at the centre of the Walkley controversy a couple of weeks ago when News Ltd’s political editor Glenn Milne drunkenly attacked him, pushing him off the stage. Through Crikey I’ve discovered a number of blogs where Australia’s “intellectual types” hang out and discuss why the country is going down hill. Left-wing secular humanists (and I think the left wing is tautological at that point) are the most annoying breed of snobs I’ve ever come across. I wish they would die. Or at least stop trying to inflict the rest of the world with their skewed view of logic and reason. Rudd has been simultaneously hailed as an intellectual hero while being shouted down as a man who dares to suggest religion should have some bearing on politics. They can’t have their cake and eat it too.

Rudd is an interesting character. It’s two working weeks since he took the reigns of the Labor party. The opinion polls spiked – as they always do with a new leader (in an interesting aside – it seems a political takeover sends value up, while a when a company takeover occurs the buyer’s share price often drops…), but most political scholars (with bias towards the government) suggest this will stabilise and Rudd will need to do more to actually win the election. The battlegrounds for the next election are in the process of being drawn – Labor will use IR and the environment as their trumps while the government will stick to the flashpoint issues of defining “Australian” and promoting their economic strength. Fortunately for Labor Rudd is a very smart man. Just like Kim Beazley. Unfortunately for Labor, early indications are that Rudd’s intelligence rubs the electorate the wrong way. Rudd has used his first fortnight in the job to position the party philosophically without revealing any major political differences to the previous leadership.

The key to success in Australian politics is engaging the fairly large, educated, middle class with political philosophy that they don’t necessarily care about. Labor needs to pick “wedge” issues that will polarise the populace giving them a majority chunk of voters. The Howard Government has perfected this method. IR and the environment have the potential to do this – but the Howard Government’s issues may be the biggest ace in the pack. Immigration, Australian history, racism and tolerance – they’re all big, divisive issues. To have any chance of winning the next election, and for Rudd to keep his head (in a less literal way than the French royals), Labor and the left needs to realise that a lot of their political postulating isn’t hitting home with the electorate at all. They’re stuck in a philosophical battle while the Liberals are scoring points by applying things where it matters most to the modern Aussie – their sense of “self” and their wallets.

The Pylon Challenge

The next wikipedia challenge topic has been set – and expanded. Please do your best to find random topics 6 degrees of separation from Pylons.

The expanded challenge is to use a similie finishing with “like a pylon” in ordinary conversation once in the next week. Your efforts should be recorded in the comments section below.

Joe Blogs

I don’t really have anything significant to blog about today. Or in fact ever. But I need to write a post to draw your attention to the fact that Mr Joseph Y Wee has entered the “blogosphere” with style. I am sure Joe’s blog will be a worthy read. Here’s what he has to say about the site:

“Fundamentally this blog will be about the things that I enjoy. Cruelty to animals, George W Bush, and economic imperialism. I will occasionally dabble in other interesting topics such as decoupage and other arts and crafts.”

Please hesitate to make your way over to Joe’s site. I’m sure you’ll be mildly appalled.

In other news, Kevin Rudd was in Townsville yesterday, and in fact, in our office. His hair is very grey. Almost white.

We went Christmas light viewing last night. Christmas light viewing is up there in my top ten list of the least appealing things about Christmas. That’s a pretty big call given that there are lots of things about Christmas that don’t necessarily appeal to me.

Attack of the clones

Finally. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for. I can finally play God. I have a terrible illness. An illness that leads me to believe that I’m half man, half shark – now, thanks to the wonders of therapeutic cloning, I’ll be able to grow the shark fin I’ve always imagined gracing my back. Surely therapeutic cloning stretches to include therapy for “mental” illness – in fact the line probably extends much further – you have a bit of a cold at the moment sir, no problem, here’s a new lung – buy now and we’ll throw in an extra kidney for free. The real concern I have as a result of the passing of the bill is an economic concern. Legalised organ harvesting will kill the black market organ trade. Organ harvesting is big business in the South American slums. Those economies rely on the export dollars generated by criminals and spent in local communities – it’s the ma and pa operators who are going to cop this on the chin – but at least they’ll be able to go out and get themselves a new chin if the blow is too heavy.
Medical tourism is the next predicted boom market – if Australia becomes a one stop shop for vital organs we’ll be right at the heart* of this emerging market. The gall** of those people who complain about this revolutionary new legislation. Their shortsightedness is astounding. We will be at the forefront with our willingness to travel into ethical grey areas. I hear Amsterdam has the drug travel market cornered – why not legalise drugs and turn Nimbin into a tourism hub. Why stop at pot – we could be top spot (I only chose those words because they’re all anagrams of the letters T, O, P, and S) for crystal methamphetamine (ice, ice baby…) , then our middle class users could kill all their organ functionality and invest their left over cash into new organs. The possibilities are endless. What a Pandora’s box our wonderful polititians have opened. Realms upon realms of possibilities (or for the paper users among us – reams upon reams – again the possibilities are almost endless – limited only by the number of pieces of paper).

* Pun intended
** and again

Everybody’s changing

Sometimes there’s a real synergy between a number of different topics that fits nicely under the one blog heading. In a brief synopsis today’s blog will feature a mention of my trip to Brisbane, the Labor Leadership change, the Ashes, and whatever else occurs to me in the course of penning – or typing – this entry. Oh, and I recently became the proud owner of Liberia.

I’ll start with the known knowns – and move towards the known unknowns, ignoring completely the unknown unknowns.

I spent a few days in Brisbane last week. That was weird. It was a work trip and I was doing all sorts of official things demonstrating my competency and learning lots about tourism in the process. I’ll start the account from the beginning, which is, as we know courtesy of Rodgers and Hammerstein, a very good place to start.

I flew into Brisbane on Wednesday night, having spent most of the plane trip playing “eye spy” with the inquisitive six year old seated across the aisle I was ready to collect my bags and make a mad dash to the front of the taxi queue when suddenly there was a loud bang (well more a muffled whrrrr sound) and the lights went out. The baggage carousel shuddered to a stop and I was stranded waiting for my rather large, brown, antique suitcase to appear. It did. I got a cab. It drove me to my parents house. I disembarked (got out). I had dinner (cold steak). Wrote some of my sermon (which I will be preaching at church up here this Sunday night). And went to bed. I’m now tired of the blow by blow account – no doubt you are too.

Thursday was a day filled with meetings – well there were two – I met with our two PR companies who are largely responsible for sourcing the travel journalists I host in the region – and thus largely responsible for my free steak tally. It pays to be nice to the people who provide you with free steak so I duly told them what a wonderful job they were doing sourcing (and saucing) my free steaks. We established the parameters of our working relationship for the next year (with a steak quota now firmly entrenched in their contractual obligations) and moved on. Thursday was also my pseudo birthday – the day my family arbitrarily sets aside to endow me with gifts. So we celebrated in splendid fashion with noodles, waffles, and friends.

I also used my time in Brisbane to walk past the new State Library and its infamous balls of steel – which I’ll admit to finding mildly aesthetically appealing, while also admiring the skyscrapers which have been added to the CBD’s skyline since I left in March. I didn’t get to check out GoMA but I’ll save that for my next trip south. I did however, manage to visit JB Hifi, where I spent way too much of my hard earned wage purchasing a number of CDs I’ve been unable to locate in Townsville to date. Gotye, Bob Evans, and a few other JJJ favourites including Keane have now taken their rightful place in my CD collection. Keane segues nicely into my next topic – the lyrics from their song “Everybody’s changing” are quite apt when considering the Rudd takeover of the Australian Labor party.

So little time
Try to understand that I’m
Trying to make a move to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody’s changing
And I don’t feel the same


Queensland’s second most famous Dr Death, Kevin Rudd, managed to wrest control of the party from the grasp of Kim Beazley, taking a caucus majority of 49-39 and “uniting” the party room behind his partnership with Julia Gillard. The more things change, the more they stay the same – Rudd’s Labor party will face the same challenges the Beazley party faced. He still needs to convince the public that he’s not too academic for the top job – with criticism of his extensive vocabulary already airing. I like Rudd – and he’s got a solid base of experience and expertise behind him. Solid enough to convince me that he’d be a suitable Prime Minister – I’m just not sure I prefer him to Howard or Costello. They all look like politicians to me.

It strikes me that 10 months out from an election is not an ideal time to be changing leadership – it also strikes me that with Labor polling ahead of the government this change was fairly unnecessary. Although I’m not sure anyone really wants Beazley to be prime minister – it’s more a case of public sentiment turning against Howard following the IR laws. I’m yet to be convinced the IR laws are a bad thing – but equally – I’m yet to be convinced they’re a good thing. There have been a number of issues that just haven’t registered with me as anything more than standard bureucratic incompetence – the AWB scandal, Children overboard – and in fact anything that has gone wrong in the last 10 years – seem to me to be the cost of the democratic process and not a compelling reason for governmental change. My biggest issues are with things like health, education and water – which all seem to be state government babies.

By the time you read this post Australia’s fate in the second Ashes test will be well and truly sealed, I’m predicting a win for the Aussies – and have been a believer all day.

From the Sydney Morning Herald

Rooney’s energy could produce 16 cuppas
The energy generated by British soccer dynamo Wayne Rooney as he sprints around the pitch during a match is enough to boil water for 16 cups of tea, according to research published.
David James of Sheffield Hallam University’s Centre for Sports Exercise Sciences calculated the 21-year-old Manchester United and England striker produced 6,700 kiloJoules of energy, equivalent to 1.86 kilowatt/hours of electricity.
This, he said, was also enough to light an average house for 90 minutes – the length of an average match – or run a standard television for six and a half hours.
The research for energy utility E.ON UK is part of a program to try to raise awareness in schools of energy usage in the face of the global warming crisis caused by burning fossil fuels for power and transport.

Cole’s Red Spot Specials

Terence is not a name I’d choose for myself or any of my future children. Nor is it a name I’d ascribe to a dog, a cray fish or a cockroach. One must, when one meets a Terence, enquire as to why they chose not to adopt the more acceptable Terry – or even Tezza… but I digress.

Terence Cole was the man responsible for the “Cole Report” the document produced following a $10 million inquiry into the so called “AWB scandal” – the biggest piece of politically charged controversy since the children overboard fiasco. The Australian Wheat Board – or the wheat mafia – is the organisation which represents Australian farmers to ensure they get the best possible price for exported wheat. The AWB decided that the Iraqi wheat market was particularly lucrative due to UN imposed trade sanctions – and sought to secure the Iraq contract by providing “payments” to the Hussein regime. These payments were worth $290 million and were reportedly used to supply Hussein’s soldiers (heretofore referred to as Moustache Petes*) with weapons of individual destruction (ie guns). (Sidenote – if I was going to start selling miracle weightloss pills I would call them weapons of mass destruction). Somebody flipped the lid – blew the whistle – or revealed what was going on and the whole thing created a public furore… well actually it didn’t. It should have. But the whole issue hasn’t really engaged with the public at all. The Australian gradually moved the AWB scandal coverage from the front page to the middle – in a surefire sign that the issue wasn’t moving any more papers. It hasn’t had an adverse affect on the government’s popularity – which should be at record lows according to the media’s protests over changes to industrial relations laws, media ownership and this scandal.

The problem – perhaps epitomised best by the actual report – is that no mud from this situation is sticking on John Howard’s Teflon ministers. Once upon a time ministers were called on to resign at even the whiff of a scandal. Now the government prefers to take to the trenches and sit out the public furore before making any moves. The fact that the memos made their way to Alexander Downer’s department – but were not read by the minister – suggests a gross failure on behalf of the bureaucrats involved. Labor tried laboriously to labour home the point – but failed to score – with John Howard now winning the PR battle by calling for apologies to all the senior ministers who were so spuriously burdened with the weight of the opposition’s aspersions. But really – who cares? Nobody. And we should – on one hand we’re off liberating the Iraqis (a concept I’m not entirely opposed to provided the traditional interpretation of “liberating” is adhered to and not the Bush government’s – which requires the carpet bombing of “liberated” areas to truly ensure the “liberated” state is reached.) – and on the other we’re putting guns in their hands. Surely we could have supplied them with water pistols, or something slightly less deadly. Perhaps water pistols should be standard issue weaponry in all wars – then Pte Kovco’s mother would not have to attack the government for any form of cover up over his death in Iraq.

And finally, I’ll be in Brisbane from tomorrow until Monday – if you’d like to see me please contact my agent to negotiate an exorbitant appearance fee.

* I’ve never mentioned the moustache Petes before – I just wanted to use the word heretofore – I will also hereafter refer to said shady characters as moustache Petes – particularly in this month of “Movember”**
** A stupid concept.

Six degrees of Wikipedia

It’s been a while since I posted twice in one day – but I just had the awesomest idea…

I was reading wikipedia (as I do at 4.30 most afternoons when work has slowed down and I’m killing time until 5) and I had this cool thought – it turns out it’s not completely original. But I’ve devised the first weekly “Nathan Goes to Townsville Six Degrees of Wikipedia Challenge.”

Wikipedia is a great way to satisfy pangs of curiosity and also to learn bizarre new things. The challenge is to all start at the same page and link to six obscure wikipedia entries from that one point. The winner is the person who ends up the furthest away from the original topic.

For example – if I started at Wikipedia’s entry on the Watergate scandal I can go to a page on wiretaps, from there I can go to a page on Time Domain Reflectometers, from there to soil moisture, from there to evapotranspiration, from there to conifers, and from there to DNA Sequences (or molecular biology).

There’s a site that can find the shortest possible set of links between two articles on wikipedia which is very interesting and will possibly help you on your quest if you’d like to work in reverse.

Your first wikipedia challenge begins with Townsville

Post your findings and we’ll all be able to learn new and wonderful things – which would be very didactic.

Recipe for Disaster

Everyone needs a few low cost, low effort recipes for cases of extreme emergency. This blog provides enough “bachelor” meals to last a life time of apathetic Saturdays. Having survived a number of housemates – and having had to occasionally resort to whipping up postmodern culinary masterpiece (the Blue Poles of the kitchen).

I was going to post a couple of my recent experimental meals for your enjoyment – because like in art (including music) experimental cooking leads to innovation for those of you who don’t share the creative bent.

So here are my 3 current favourites – note 2 are fairly similar in basic design principals.

Baked Bean Ravioli Surprise
Serves 4
A dish from the Lorimer school of cheffery – so named because chef’s were surprised and delighted when the dish proved edible – and even eatable – edible of course only implying that it will not do you harm.

Ingredients
1 500 gram tin of Baked Beans
1 500 gram packet of Ravioli
Cheese

Method
Prepare a saucepan full of boiling water
Add Ravioli
Stir until soft
Warm baked beans in second saucepan
Drain water from ravioli
mix baked beans and ravioli
add cheese
eat.

Mallownut Delight
Serves 1
Delightful blend of flavouring – can be prepared successfully without the nutella. Like a toasted marshmallow – with a protective breadlike cover.

Ingredients
4 slices white bread
a handful of marshmallows
nutella – or hazelnut spread substitute

Method
Liberally spread bread slices with hazelnut spread
Slice marshmallows and add to bread
Add slices of bread to toasted sandwich maker
heat – watch carefully as sandwiches have a tendency to leak. Marhsmallow is a bugger to clean off the sandwich toaster.
Serve hot.

Toasted Marswich
Serves 1
There’s nothing sandy about this concoction – a guaranteed winner that will whet your appetite and delight your taste buds.

Ingredients
2 Slices of bread
1 Mars Bar

Method
Slice Mars Bar
Place on Bread evenly
Toast in toasted sandwich maker
Serve hot.

If you have any great (bad) recipes – feel free to add them. Or even suggest terrible alternatives to my three dishes. With the Christmas Season approaching these are surefire ways to successfully entertain guests – or even for a night alone in front of the TV.

Blood Sports

The crowd chants. The emperor stands and slowly his hand turns to give the thumbs down – signalling the end. The crowd bays for more. Blood is spilled onto hallowed turf.
Human exploitation for the purposes of entertainment is generally considered a bad thing. The pioneers of the Human Rights movement would be aghast at the suggestion that people are being harried into long hours of strenuous activity, sleep deprivation, poor diet and exorbitant amounts of pressure from public expectation all for the sake of entertaining the masses. And no, I’m not talking about reality television.
Not since the blood of brave slaves was spilled by gladiators in the Colosseum of Rome have human bodies been so mercilessly and strenuously tested for our enjoyment.
It’s a hard life – but today’s sports stars have nothing on their first century counterparts – who could quite literally be reduced to counting parts following a bout in the gladiatorial arena. Oh bugger, there goes my arm. And a leg.
Sport is, as Mark’s comment on my last post suggested, hard work. I’m not denying that. Athletes train at odd hours, stick to strict diets, undergo an invasive regime of drug testing, and are deprived of basic human rights such as privacy while being forced to maintain a level of performance, or in fact show constant improvement. This no doubt takes its toll on the psyche. And so, sports stars are adequately recompensed with fame, fortune and the chance to trip the light fantastic – traveling the globe, earning the admiration and respect of thousands of awestruck fans as they strut their stuff demonstrating their feats of athletic prowess. Unlike the gladiators of old these modern day marionettes are completely untethered (except by the obviously incredibly binding contracts) – they can leave whenever they please without fear of reprisal… except perhaps if your name is Steve Turner and you don’t want to play for the Titans… well at least without the fear of physical reprisal.
So amidst the turmoil of the Trescothick saga, and to the fanfare of a flash of camera bulbs and a flurry of questions from the peanut gallery (but no trumpets), we bid farewell to Ian Thorpe – the podiatricly endowed superfish who has graced pool and podium for all of his adult life to date. We wish him well in his retirement at the ripe old age of 24. He’s lived a full life and leaves with no regrets, and nothing to achieve, except perhaps success in the elusively exclusive aquatic 100 metre dash. The aquatic superstar with the perpetual five o’clock shadow has gone out at the top rather than being tortuously knackered at the metaphorical athletic glue factory. A fine example of the graceful withdrawal which could have saved Trescothick the ignominy of going down in very public flames. But at the end of the day – the battlefield is bathed in the blood and corpses of long retired sports people that refuse to decompose into obscurity (some even rise occasionally to release pits of bile on those unsuspecting dolts who choose to follow the well trod path – ala Kieren Perkins, Jeff Thompson, Dawn Fraser et al and lest we forget those who choose to head to the commentators box…), and the harsh reality of life as a professional sportsperson has claimed another victim. What awaits our outgoing Thorpedo? Life as a fashion designer, a coach, a (shudder) television personality… or will he fade into the shadows of anonimity – only to be foiled by the occassional obsessive fan spotting his massive feet somewhere under the designer stubble and the foppish hair.

Mental as anything

My last post ruffled some feathers. Unfortunately I’ll never know whose because they posted anonymously – but I’d like to point out a couple of things to anonymous – and their potential cohort of anonymous friends who like to post ridiculous comments.
1. My last post had very little to do with depression. If it turns out that Trescothick is suffering from depression then my sympathies are with him. If however, we take him at face value (and according to his official website) then he’s not suffering from depression – he simply struggles with being on the road 300 days a year in his life as one of England’s top cricketers. In fact here are some quotes that suggest it’s not a matter of depression:

“The opener now claims he flew home early from India because of a ‘virus’ — even though it was previously said he had domestic problems.
Tresco, 30, said: “My problems are now very much behind me, I just needed a break.
“Playing six years of solid international cricket just takes it toll after a while.
“You get to certain stages of your career and you just need to be with your family to recharge the batteries.

“We play so much. We spend 300 nights of the year out of our own house, either travelling the world or in hotels preparing for games in England.”

Now I’m no psychologist. And he may be in denial, or trying to avoid being tarred with the public stigma that comes with depression -I don’t know, and that wasn’t a point I was discussing in my post.

I was shocked by the concept that an international sportsperson could claim work related stress, because as we all know – SPORT IS ONLY A GAME. That was my point – it was a point that segued nicely into the story about Shaun Berrigan and the fact he was sacrficing his brother’s wedding to play off the bench for Australia. I did not mention depression – my post was an indictment of the way sport has shifted from entertainment to something much more significant for many people. The example these stressed out, emotional wrecks are setting for the younger generation of sports people worries me. I did not comment on depression – I’m simply not qualified to do so. I may have made some reference to the issue in my response to some of the comments but I’ll get to that next. An interesting side note is that the full page photo the Courier Mail ran of a bedraggled, baggy eyed Trescothick getting off the plane in England was in fact not him but an unnamed English business man.

2. Play the ball not the man – when commenting please stick to commenting on the issue at hand. I’m not publishing my opinions asking to be attacked for them. Feel free to criticise what I have to say – but if you choose to anonymously insult me – I will delete the post. I will also reply – and because you’re anonymous I may be scathing and somewhat vindictive. I have the decency to put my name to my opinions – please do me, and other readers, the same courtesy by putting your name to yours. Also play the ball that’s being played – not some different issue. You can’t play golf while the rest of us are playing football. Whoever the anonymous poster was who brought suicide into the discussion yesterday was using a pathetic attempt at pathos by bringing in an extremely emotive, and sensitive issue into a discussion where it had no place to begin with. No one can argue with a post that wields suicide as a persuasive tool – you instantly place yourself on some sort of unassailable pedestal of rhetoric. That’s poor. No one needs to put up with shoddy emotional arguments.

3. Stick to the facts. It’s all well and good to argue using hearsay and some “statistics” that you’ve heard of supporting your position. The fact is 74% of statistics are made up on the spot. If you’re going to throw facts – scientific, economic or whatever at me – please back it up with evidence. I made the original post based on quotes from Trescothick available on the public record and reports of the story as it unfolded. Unless you’re an expert in your field – try to at least have an expert backing up your position. The exception being if you’re a certified member of the flat earth society – then I’m happy to laugh at your delusion.

4. Please read the post before commenting – don’t comment about what you think the post is about, comment about what it is about. Or leave a message saying hi. With your name. This blog exists so that my friends – or random strangers – can read my thoughts, and be kept up to speed with my life – and so that I have something to do at work, and can keep in touch with people as such I’m all for discourse – but please don’t go putting words in my mouth, I do a good enough job of making myself look stupid without your help. Finally, if you do suffer from depression, and you were insulted by any implied or explicit things I may have said in these last two posts – I apologise. Please seek professional help… or something – just don’t try to play cricket for England.

Stress Fractures

Professional sports people are finally catching up to the rest of the world when it comes to the concept of stress leave. It seems the Poms can no longer handle a bit of spirited competition with their fragile emotional psyches preventing them from partaking in competition with the Australians. Marcus Trescothick has just pulled out of the Ashes tour due to stress related illness. His trip home came close on the heels of British Rugby League half back Sean Long’s decision to give the Tri-Nations tour the flick heading home due to “emotional fatigue and exhaustion” – at least he had the excuse that his wife is heavily pregnant and about to give birth. These poor fragile sports stars. How tough life must be for them with their million dollar salaries and their fancy cars, fast women and rigorous playing schedule. Yes that’s right folks. Sport is hard work. All that running around is enough to give you heaps of emotional baggage. And the constant sledging must surely take a toll on your soul. Joel is right, sarcasm can be hard to pick up in text – so here’s an emoticon :P. When will these sports stars stop being so precious. Despite the pressure of having a nation’s hopes and expectations riding on your shoulders, at the end of the day sport is only a game. While people may not be prepared to forgive and forget when a player cracks on the field, and is sent off, possibly costing his team the World Cup (ala David Beckham) – the nature of sport means that new targets will constantly present themselves (ala Christiano Ronaldo – playing right wing for Man Utd is a position fraught with danger). You’d think Trescothick and co were trying to solve the North Korean nuclear crisis, or tackling climate change, or trying to work out exactly how they get the shells onto a smartie (which I’m researching for a later blog). At the end of the day these sports people are meant to be competitive mentally and physically – it’s not a matter of getting out of the kitchen when you can’t hack the heat – you shouldn’t be there to begin with. How can a player get to a position where he’s representing his country and bail when it all gets too hard? All the talk about how tough it is being in the spotlight, having to be a role model, training too hard – it’s all part and parcel of being a sports star – the cushy day job and good pay don’t come for nothing… at the end of the day these players have pretty much buggered up their team’s chances before a ball is bowled, or the whistle blows – so good on ‘em for that.

The “it’s only a game” perspective is in danger of completely falling by the wayside – Shaun Berrigan is set to miss being best man at his brother’s wedding just to play 80 minutes of football. I’ve never heard anything more absurd. 92% of people who responded to the Courier Mail survey said Shaun should miss the game. Coach Ricky Stuart said no. Coach Ricky Stuart is in danger of becoming Phil Gould’s successor as the most annoying person in Rugby League.