No, I'M the underdog!

Apparently Tony Abbott believes he is the underdog/battler/David against Goliath.

He's also "pleased and proud to be leading a team which wants a better style of politics in Australia and certainly we'll keep running the kind of campaign you've seen over the past few weeks."

http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/politics-news/im-the-election-underdog-says-trailing-tony-abbott/story-fn59nqld-12259

05218409

Good for him.

Thinking Pug: How Long Is A Life?

Scribble From Journalism

The red-handled lover

Jewellery prices might have skyrocketed in the past few months, but one man didn’t let that stop him getting his fiancée the ring she deserved.

35-year-old Brendan O’Connell was today charged with three counts of armed robbery, and one count of armed assault, when police arrested him this afternoon.

O’Connell explained to police that his robbery of three rings from a Carlton jewellery store, during which he held the female shop attendant at knifepoint, using a red-handled kitchen knife as a weapon, was all in order to give his girlfriend Sarah the proposal she deserves

The three rings, priced at over $8000 each, were stolen at the end of a morning-long spate of robberies, including one incident which left a shop attendant in St Vincent’s Hospital with serious cuts and bruises after a vicious attack by O’Connell.

Yet he insists that it was worth it “for the lovely smile on Sarah’s very pretty face.”

The elusive Sarah has been unavailable for comment. “She is very, very, touched by Brendan’s selfless gesture,” said her mother, Rachel Simms. Ms Simms further disclosed that if O’Connell manages to get bail tomorrow, Sarah would be ‘very receptive’ to any ‘proposals’ he might have.

University student ‘disappointed’ by mediocre satirical article

A university student was today ‘a little underwhelmed’ by a satirical article he wrote during a lengthy journalism tute.

“It started off really promisingly,” the student said of his article, which took an obscure angle on a news story he was writing for assessment.

“There was a general feeling that I’d hit upon quite an entertaining premise,” he recalled. “But the more I wrote, the less funny it seemed to become…it sort of fell apart in my hands.

“Many things do these days,” he sighed indulgently.

The satirical article was unavailable for comment.

Journalistic Credibility

A friend pointed out to me tonight that the journalistic credibility of my blog may have been compromised by my mentioning of Adobe Illustrator in the posts below.

This alarmed me, until I realised that it was an observation made on a few assumptions:

1. My blog had some journalistic credibility to lose.

2. My blog has an audience with whom journalistic credibility can be lost and gained.

3. The images below serve to positively demonstrate the dizzying heights of artistic genius which can be achieved with Adobe Illustrator.

Ok, let's start with the first assumption. I don't really know what this blog is, but I would hesitate before describing it as a 'journalistic' blog. It's really just a mish mash of personal, 'satirical' (that's the ones that have been trying, in increasingly desperate measures, to be funny), and bizarre (I actually have no idea where those pug pictures came from. It was late and I was tired. Actually there's a fair bit more to be said on this. When I'm tired, I tend to think, write, and create more outlandish, offensive, bizarre, strange things. I tend to think of it as my creative Mr Hyde. I sometimes think he shouldn't be let out....but he has helped me through many an English assessment, and ultimately I enjoy giving him a bit of freedom every now and then. I apologise for having grossly abused this parenthesis).

Jonathan Holmes (smugly, as he is probably incapable of any other delivery): But that doesn't excuse the sloppy product placement. Running an endorsement as a headline is one of the most basic of journalistic errors, and Gelati Gecko's slip up has simply illustrated some fairly slack editorial skills. (Indulgent wry smile.)

Thinking Pug: Politics

Adobe Illustrator Is The Best!

Demarchy

The solution to the poll-driven, apathy rich, misinformed wonder that is Australian politics is at hand.

Demarchy is the appointment of randomly selected people to rule a country. If a randomly selected segment of the Australian public were chosen to rule, the arguments in favour of demarchy roughly seem to go:

• There wouldn't be any pressure on them to be elected, play to the media, or pander to specific interest groups. All that they would have to do is make policy decisions which are best for Australia
• They would be informed by experts in areas of specific policy, and make a decision based on the information given to them, like a jury, and not on uniformly held idealogical principles.
• As they are 'the people', they truly represent Australians, and are not in the position for power or honour, but so that they can bring to the policy making decisions the views and needs of the Australian public.

Of course, there are many problems with the concept of a demarchy, not least that a randomly selected group may not be representative, and that it could just be a deadlocked room full of opposing views.

But then again...when a democratic election runs like this...

Gillard and Abbott (in unison): Boat People! Boat People! Fuck! Boat people! Needa stop the goddamn boat people! Shit! Imma stop them first! Oh God! You can trust me to stop these boat people! Oh God they're going to....umm....threaten our way of life and shit, just trust me! Oh for the love of God, the boat people!

Gillard: Let's have an informed debate, Mr Abbott, free of empty rhetoric, vague directional metaphors, and scare-mongering. The Australia population deserve better. A debate, so that Australians can see what their real choices are.

Gillard and Abbott: TAXESBOATPEOPLEMOVINGFORWARD REALACTION TRUE ECONOMIC SENSE TRUSTECONOMYSAFETYTAXES INTEREST RATES BOATPEOPLEAGAIN MININGTAX CAN'T TRUST THEMKEVINLEMON HEALTHCAREREALREFORM CHANGE FOR WORKINGFAMILIESMOVINGFORWARD REAL ACTION DONTFORGETTHEFUCKINGBOATPEOPLE!

Gillard: I'm going to be the real Gillard from now on! I'm throwing out the rules!

Abbott: See? I love women! It's ok, I love women, therefore the Coalition's policies will be better! You can't trust the government on environmental action though!

Gillard: Not a big Australia, but a sustainable Australia.

Abbott: Oh, and also boat people. Those tricky fucking boat people.

Commentators: It'll be interesting to see which campaign strategy works out in the end. They're both trying different tactics, taglines, buzz words, advertisements, sliming, soundbites.

Off you go now Australians. Go vote. Make a truly informed choice. Australia has a remarkable level of citizen involvement, you know. Our compulsory voting system ensures that we have a healthy democracy.

Litjokes Nostalgia

Passage Analysis: Use the following passage for a discussion of Hedda Gabler X36 V.02

Aunt Julle: Ah but Jorgen! You managed to LAN up Hedda X36, the most streamlined operating system in town! She’s the next model from the great Gablermatic! I still remember the times I used to see them micro-processing together, the most powerful machines in the village...except for Lovborg, of course...but, well...after he picked up all those...

Tesman: Viruses, and his operating system went down. Ah well...I don’t suppose there’s any good news to be had there...

Aunt Julle [briskly]: Ah, well. Let’s not speak of that. But oh, that Hedda X36! In her lustrous gleaming titanium casing!

Tesman: Eh? Oh yes, Aunt Julle! Just think! There must be quite a few cyborgs in the village simply defragmenting their C drives in jealousy! [Nodding at Aunt Julle’s monitor.] What’s that you’ve got there Aunt Julle?

Aunt Julle: Oh, it’s nothing, just a 19 inch plasma screen I bought to replace my old one...so that Hedda X36 shouldn’t be ashamed of me if we go online together.

Tesman: Oh Aunt Julle! You think of everything! And what’s that smart new wireless mouse in your claw?

Aunt Julle: This? Oh, well...it’s a Toshiba Bluetooth mouse I bought – again, for Hedda X36.

Tesman [Turning his infrared sensors towards stage left.]: What’s that? I think I hear her coming now!

[There is a metallic whirring sound, and a small hatch opens in the ceiling. First Hedda’s steel wheels, then the rest of her body, descend through the hatch. She is dressed in a light morning dress of the latest fashion. A propeller is protruding from her hair, which is a light brown, though not noticeably abundant. The whirring slows as she nears the ground, and she alights in the drawing room gently. The propeller folds itself up and goes back into her head.]

Tesman: Ah! There you are, Hedda X36! Did you recharge well?

Hedda X36 [Dismissively]: Oh yes. Tolerably.

Tesman: Tolerably! I like that! You were 98% recharged when I left you this morning!

Hedda X36 [ignoring him]: Aunt Julle! What an early visit! Did you need your cables re-crossed?

Aunt Julle [nervously]: Oh no, I just came here to say hello, you know, check there weren’t any things I could help with...

Hedda X36: Well, I’ve almost finished installing the Microsoft Vista processing system – I suppose everything in this house is Microsoft Vista, Jorgen?

Tesman [awkwardly]: Come now Hedda, you know it is. Not quite the efficient computing power you’re used to, of course...but I’m sure we shall be able to upgrade in time, and after all-

Hedda X36 [coldly]: Yes, I suppose one must adjust. By degrees.

Aunt Julle: And with your post as Internet History organiser almost confirmed, dear Jorgen, I daresay it shan’t be too long! Arranging and sorting, that’s what you’re built for!

Tesman: Yes, yes Aunt Julle! Exactly right, Hedda X36! We must only be patient, and-

Hedda X36: Oh! We shall never manage with this new droid!

Aunt Julle: Not manage with B1110? Whatever is the-

Hedda X36: She’s gone and left her old Toshiba Bluetooth mouse lying on the couch!

Tesman: Hedda X36!

Hedda X36: Well supposing our webcams were to film it? Why would B1110 have just tossed it down! One isn’t programmed to do that kind of thing!

Aunt Julle: Ah, well, it’s actually registered under my computing system, Hedda X36. [Under her breath as she picks it up with her metal claw] And it’s not old, either...it’s the second newest prototype.

Hedda X36: Is it? Ah, well, I really didn’t run it through all the databases in my system.

Aunt Julle: That’s quite understandable – and with a database which seems to be growing larger and larger every day since you and Jorgen have come back from your ...

Hedda X36 [firmly]: It is not, thank you.

Aunt Julle: Well...I’ll be seeing you later, Jorgen.

[Tesman and Aunt Julle go whirring out of the room on their wheels. Hedda X36 zooms around the room angrily on her hoverpad, her monitor flashing bright red.]

Tesman [returning]: Well what of the house, Hedda X36?

Hedda X36 [again, ignoring his question]: Do you think that Aunt Julle was upset?

Tesman: Oh, I don’t know...she doesn’t usually get upset about that sort of thing.

Hedda X36: I suppose I could send her a poke on Facebook...

Tesman: Oh would you, Hedda X36? And could you add her on MSN?

Hedda X36: No, no, you mustn’t ask me to do that. I shall ‘like’ her Facebook status updates, but that is all.

Tesman: Very well, Hedda X36.

Hedda X36 [suddenly irritable]: I am fed up with the internet filter on the Microsoft Vista updates – I would like them removed. I can’t access the archives of my MSN conversations with Lovborg.

Tesman: But why, Hedda, do you think that would really do?

Hedda X36 [sighing, getting up and retreating to the inner pod]: No, of course. It wouldn’t do. Oh well...there is at least one thing which I can use my spare processing power on...

Tesman: Eh, what’s that Hedda X36? Hedda X36?

Hedda X36 [raising her volume]: My USBs, Jorgen. The Gablermatic’s USBs.

Tesman [squeakily wheeling after her]: No! Hedda X36! You mustn’t play with them! They have enough power to take out a motherboard! Hedda X36!

Written Analysis:

Ibsen very deliberately chooses the way in which Hedda X36 is referenced to prior to her entry on stage. Aunt Julle makes a connection with her superior model, the “Gablermatic”, which establishes Hedda X36 as the model of the Gablermatic, rather than being electronically partnered with Tesman. Her entry is also highly significant, as it highlights the higher level through which Hedda X36 literally enters the Tesman household. Ibsen uses this opening scene to set up the tension which will ensue throughout the play, as Hedda X36 is incompatible with the bourgeois operating system of Windows Vista, and finds the restrictions on her internet freedom confining, yet she is resigned to this fate, accepting that “one must adjust. By degrees.” Indeed, it is Hedda X36’s acceptance of what becomes somewhat of a catchcry of the play, “one isn’t programmed to do that kind of thing”, which ultimately results in her perpetual oppression and imprisonment within society.

The only release left open to Hedda X36 are the USBs left to her by the Gablermatic, which Tesman warns her “have enough power to take out a motherboard!” Ibsen uses this warning to highlight Hedda X36’s rejection of her new expected role as mother to another cyborg. She violently rejects Aunt Julle’s insinuations, and is openly rude to her new aunt.

Ibsen also uses these establishing scenes to introduce the theme of circumlocution, as we first see that both Tesman and Aunt Julle are very uncomfortable discussing Lovborg’s sexual forays on the internet, which have resulted in him receiving the “viruses”, resulting in his social ostracism. In a similar way Aunt Julle only hints at Hedda X36’s pregnancy, as she tells Hedda X36 that her “database...seems to be growing larger and larger every day since you and Jorgen have come back”. Family, the bourgeois Windows Vista, and the oppression of an internet filter have all begun to take their hold on Hedda X36 from the outset, a hold which will result in tragedy.

Apple Fanatics Scramble to Get Their Hands on iAir

A cheer rang through chilly Melbourne last night, as the stroke of midnight signalled the release of the iAir.

Thousands of queuing Apple fans had been camping outside city tech stores, some from as early as 5.30am. But at the stroke of midnight, stores opened their doors for a special release of Apple's new gadget, priced at $354.95 each.

The iAir, a 'innovative, intuitive, touch-responsive mass of air', has been eagerly awaited since announcement of its development in April this year. Despite suggestions that it can quickly become contaminated, dispersed, and lost within moments of removing it from its packaging, a strong turnout at its launch last night demonstrates that true Apple fans won't be deterred.

"I can't wait to see how it interacts with my iPhone!" exclaimed Sally Sanders.

"I kind of know I don't really need it, but oh my God I so do...I really, really, want it," she said of the 200 ml of air, vacuum sealed in a sleek silver casing, adorned with Apple's ubiquitous logo.

Above: The contents of a disassembled iAir.

Tech magazines have been divided over the new product, with PC User finding that "while very simple to operate, it was difficult to ascertain what the actual function of the iAir was. After two hours of examination, it really does just appear to be air in a silver case."

But fans remain steadfast in their support of the iAir. "It's just something that appeals to me, I guess, because it's unique and reflects my individualism," sales accountant manager Thomas Jeffreys shouted as he jostled amongst the hundreds of other people queuing.

But What If It Was Deliberate?

So what with the 'myki' teething problems and the peak hour delays today, Metro aren't the most popular public transport operators in Melbourne. (Well they are, because they're the only ones, but that's not my point.)

But what if all the things that annoy us about public transport were in fact a service?

- Late trains: late, delayed, and cancelled trains serve an important and unique role in the public transport system. Too frequently commuters stumble into a train half awake, head to their job, before cramming back on, heading home, only to repeat it all the next day. When there is a delay, commuters do get angry. But when they're forced to wait for twenty minutes, it gives them a chance to cool down. They can examine their anger. Why are they angry? What are they going to be late for exactly? How important is it, in the scheme of a life which could end at any given moment?

Perhaps some compulsory reflection could produce a life-altering epiphany.

- Obnoxious fellow passengers: These are in fact highly skilled actors, carefully trained to play their parts with a nuanced, perceptively observed flair. Through forcing you to listen to them loudly recount in graphic detail and without discretion the minutiae of their lives, they invite you to wonder on the nature of human consciousness, of the relationships that bind people together, of the significance which people draw from their lives, the 'achievements' they value. The presence of obnoxious passengers assists train rides to become the introspective, reflective experience they are capable of becoming, experiences which enrich our day.

- Overly officious Public Transport Officers: Why do they take such pride in their job? What's their story? Why do you feel that mixture of polite hostility or forced friendliness and ease when they approach? Are their weighty metal badges affixed to their trenchcoats a tangible compensation for their role? Have the public institutions in Australia become more dehumanised, and if so, how can ordinary citizens go about reversing this?

- Mx: And if you don't want to ponder these things, then just completely halt all cognitive activity with a flick through the Mx, and lose yourself in a world of celebrities, half-thought through, obstinate opinion pieces, and the democratic zeitgeist that is "Vent Your Spleen".

Train journeys need not be a sluggish, mind-numbing crawl. Metro has provided us with everything we need to entertain ourselves. With so many things occurring within the train, there is always an abundance of philosophical musing to be had.

So thank you, Metro. For the things you give us, deliberately and unwittingly, I am thankful.

Mission Statements

P.R. started up again this week, and we've started by learning about these odd things called 'mission statements'.

A mission statement, we were told, is something which conveys an organisation's purpose, strategy, values, and standards. It should be a short sentence or two which more or less explains why the company exists.

And after looking at several mission statements, I started to realise that there are really two types of mission statements:

- A statement which genuinely explains the role of the organisation and helps you better understand what it does

- A statement which tells you nothing about the organisation, instead confusing you with a generic, bland affirmation of vague values and

ethics in whatever they do

And of course there is everything between these two extremes.

Brie's Mission Statement:

Brie is committed to being the creamiest and most delicious cheese in existence. It will constantly strive to ethically deliver to those who sample its smooth, mild flavours, a cheese-eating experience unlike no other.

or...

Brie is committed to helping individuals and businesses reach their full potential. Through a strong sense of community, humility, and service to others, Brie provides an unparalleled service which is both professional and personal.

But it's not like it really matters if the mission statement doesn't tell you exactly what an organisation or individual's agenda is...does it?

Sauron's Mission Statement:

Sauron strives to assist in development and improvement throughout Middle Earth. By harnessing innovative technologies, a widespread network of communications, all within an ethically sound framework, Sauron supports a range of community-focused initiatives.

Scamble

Once again, my resolve to keep up regular blogging has melted. But melted badly, like when you have chocolate and you don't want it to melt, so you minimise body contact and hence transfer of heat, but it's all in vain because it's melting anyway and there's nothing you can do about it.

So now as I sit in the puddle of melted chocolate which is my blog, I'm going to chuck out some of the half ideas that've been sitting about in my head:

Blog Posts You Won't See (read the titles and be very thankful)!

• Commuter Makes Concerted Effort to be Civil to Ticket Inspector
• Labor and Liberal Parties admit that the refugee debate is mostly about political point scoring, and partly "for the lols"
• "I don't usually judge people on reality TV shows, but Jimmy is really getting my gander up!"
• "Will journalism be an enriching potential career move, or will it just make me dead inside?"

Yeah. So next time you look at my blog and go "oh no, there's no update! I'm missing out on the quality content which would no doubt be present if only Gelati Gecko had the time!"....actually you've probably never done that.

Self-deprecating tripe aside...

New word for you all. If you liked scrumish (and I defy you to fault it), then you will love this one:

Scamble

Definition: Not quite a run, not quite a brisk stride, the scamble falls somewhere in between. In its original context, the scamble relates specifically to the movement made when hurrying to a train platform, unsure as to whether you have missed your train already or not. It's really a mix of several very similar words:

- Scramble

- Amble

- Scamper

Enjoy in moderation.

Editor's Correction: It must be noted, if Gelati Gecko wishes to retain any degree of credibility or trustworthiness as a blogger, that the word scamble is to a large degree, and quite possibly entirely, the product of a friend. This friend, whose command of the English language, and fearsome intellect impress all he meets, thus deserves recognition of his outstanding contribution to society with 'scamble'.

We can only hope he shows some clemency and does not pursue proposed legal action.

New Word For You All: Scrumish

I've come across one of those situations which I don't believe the current English vocabulary adequately caters for. Therefore, I have invented a new word, and have decided to dedicate this entire post to explaining its meaning.

The word is scrumish (pronounced scroo-mish). It's a verb, as in "I scrumished my painting for about fifteen minutes."

It is something of an amalgam of the following words:

• scrutinise
• relish

And this more or less sums up its meaning. To scrumish is to examine something with greatest satisfaction and hearty contentment. The thing in question is usually something which has been either made by, or is owned by, the scrumisher. Examples include:

• A story they have written
• A cake they have baked
• A small DIY job successfully completed

This also encompasses less tangible, online things, such as an online bank account, as I and others I have spoken to enjoy viewing the bank account balances, often unnecessarily.

It's a little bit like this:

"Victor Hampelshire breathed in the brisk, cold, morning air

as he strode around the perimeter of his country estate. As he strode, he admired everything about it: the garden bed his underpaid servants had been tending to all spring, the house he had inherited from his affluent family, and the great expanses of lawn upon which a flock of wandering sheep were grazing peacefully.

He would shoot the sheep later, he reflected, for he had warned Mr McMaggins more than once to keep them contained. But for now, Victor Hampelshire was filled from top hat to leather riding boots with a warm, proud, utterly fulfilled yet intense happiness and attachment to his estate."

So scrumish is just like that...only in your head.

Above: Even animals are capable of scrumishing, as this dog surveys the pleasing work he has done.

It's the re-reading of an essay that isn't really necessary. It's that skimming over a great set of results that doesn't quite serve a practical purpose. It's that little buzz you get when you read over a well liked Facebook status.

And I think it's fantastic. The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that scrumishing is humankind's own little triumph. It's our assertion of the belief that we can control our environment around us, even if we cannot control so many other forces in our life. It's a little buzz knowing that you created something that you're happy with.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll publish this post, before giving it the scrumishing it deserves.

Apple Will Probably Kill Us All

Today I went and bought a backup hard drive for my Macbook. Essentially it's a massive USB that stores all my files in case my Macbook gets sick. Fascinating stuff.

But the thing that I found really strange was the Apple shop itself.

An Apple logo is all that identifies it from the outside. Of course, this is more than enough to tell people exactly what sort of store it is. Once you step inside, you realise that the silver, flat floor and ceiling remind you of the minimalist Mac type design, and I actually began to feel that I was inside an Apple product.

The boxes of Apple products adopt a similarly minimalist approach. A keyboard is labelled "keyboard", and has double sided photos of computer keyboards on the packaging. No other writing.

All around me, were customers of all ages. Elderly couples sat while one of the forty or so jeans and blue t-shirt wearing staff explained the basics of skype to them. An eight year old on rollerskates went past, undisrupted because, presumably, Apple is cool enough.

With the crowds of people and even more staff, it struck me as odd, but absolutely nobody volunteered to help me. I couldn't even catch the eye of a salesperson. They were all busy, apparently lumbered with their other customers, and so I was ignored. I felt isolated and alienated.

At the cash register, a staff member came up and made a big show of asking the saleswoman at the cashier to look after 'Tony', then explaining to 'Tony' that he'd leave him with 'Jenny', who would look after him, and that Jenny was lovely. This kind of overly cheery and friendly demeanor made me feel simultaneously 'bah humbug' and 'oh that's nice'.

It was a really confusing and disorientating experience. But I got the hard drive.

This was a terrible story to share with you all (both). I apologise if you've reached the end of this, hanging out for something genuinely scary or funny.

Gelati Gecko Greeting Cards

Every time I go to the newsagents looking for a card, I find myself underwhelmed by the choices available. It always seems to me that the cards there can be sorted into a few categories:

Serious and Sincere

These are the flowery "Dearest Mother, you have been there since day one" type cards, which I never really browse as they hold very little emotional resonance for me. They include condolences, congratulations, all in sugary pastels, sometimes adorned with a tastefully selected glittery flower or two. The edge might also be cut in a wavy, 'soft' edge (especially important for condolence cards, as the last thing you want to do to a grieving friend is give them a paper-cut).

Retro 1950s

These are the ones with black and white photos and 'outrageous' captions. The ideal of the 50s housewife is a particularly prevalent theme, as beaming housewives on the front belie the quip about alcoholism and unhappy marriage, or the innuendo-laden punchline hidden within.

However, they are not all satirical. Sometimes it can be something simple such as a black and white photograph of an elderly couple together, with a quote inside about the transience of life and the beauty of flourishing love within it. But these sorts of 50s cards really belong more to the next category...

Animals and Photography

Often blank inside, or accompanied by a poignant statement on humanity, these are of the 'giraffe mother and calf grazing at sunset', 'very old and wrinkled lady laughing as she holds a newborn baby', 'dozing cat and mouse curled up together on a cushion' ilk.

They show whoever you're giving it to that you're sensitive, appreciate photography, and have thought a great deal about the quote on the card, and decided that it is a message which is most salient for them at this particular point in their lives. It certainly shows them also that you have taste and decency enough not to offer them a card from the last category...

"Humour"

Within the humour category, there are subcategories again:

• Genuinely humorous: These have a cleverly drawn cartoon, with an accompanying punchline inside the card, which might cause a chuckle. They may be a little risque, but in the end you can be reasonably sure of their positive reception.
• Jokes pertaining to flatulence and other bodily functions: These are without a doubt the lowest of the low. These cards are the lecherous middle aged man in the card rack, leering and cackling at you as you walk past. You feel dirty if you ever pick them up 'just to check' if the punchline is as disappointing as you expect. It inevitably is.
• Crass sexual jokes: There is nothing more to be said, except that if I ever receive one of these cards I will forever think more lowly of the sender (unless it's deliberately ironic, in which case that was very clever of you indeed).
• Age jokes: These are possibly the least humorous of the 'humorous' cards section. Yet don't be fooled by their uninspired and inoffensive front - they are the ones most likely to encourage binge drinking, usually in order to forget the horrific revelation that your life is halfway spent, and you now have less chance than ever of doing the things you always dreamed you would and could in your younger years.

And many times, I have finished my perusal of all the aforementioned categories, ending with a demoralising examination of every single 'humour' card, and found that there are no cards that have the attitude, artistic direction, and message that I want.

And so, more often than not, I make my own card, and take a bizarre pride in presenting (to friends on their birthdays) misshapen, smudged, aesthetically challenged cards with crossed-out and wonky messages scrawled horizontally, then finally vertically, as I realised halfway through that the writing size I chose at the start was roughly ten times too big. The confused recipient will often look at me with a combination of bewilderment and polite acceptance, as they wonder whether the torn piece of paper they are holding in their hands is a symbol of my psychotic obsession with them (generally, it isn't).

And so I encourage you all to go forth and make cards for your friends! Fashion them from newspaper, egg cartons, whatever you can find!

And above all, don't just write "To Blah....From Bleh." And that includes people who think that writing "Dear" conveys sufficient affection to get them off the hook from writing a personal message that explains how and why that person is important to you.

And as usual, Man Stroke Woman perhaps closes the whole greeting card issue best.

Wanted: Competent Copywriter for Online Job Advertisements

Yeah...that story I promised you...it's on it's way, honest.

But you all seem to love the silly blog posts, the ones where I find something tiny to focus on, some small aspect of life which I can study, get angry or happy about, and use to shield me from the mind-numbing directionless nature of my existence.

And for today, it's jobs.

I've been looking for a job.

I've been looking for some jobs on the Internet, because I have this completely baseless theory that somehow I'll stumble upon a magical job that meets all my needs, which would probably be something like:

Personal Piano Player, Chef, for Unicorn Wanted:

Sparkles the 6 month old Unicorn foal is in need of a personal piano player to sooth his soul, and a chef to nourish his fledgling body. It is important that he has an ongoing person to meet these needs during these formative months. VCE French level of speaking a bonus, as Sparkles speaks a little French (but only so much that VCE level is all that would be useful). Extra benefits include 100 wishes which he will grant you on his first birthday.

- Chef training fully provided, prior experience irrelevant

- Approx $45/hour

- Very flexible part-time work hours

But in the meantime, I'm searching for other jobs.

And what's started to bug me is this: the jobs which are written up appallingly, but still demand a competent employee with a wealth of previous experience. As I have none, I am always disappointed to see it listed as a criterion. But it becomes harder to accept when it's on a job that's advertised like this:

"We require professional wait staff. That are exceptionally bubbly and out going."

And then they remind applicants that "it is paramount that you...are fluent in English". Really?

Gelati Gecko Steps Down In Bloodless Coup

A phone call late last night signalled the start of the end for Gelati Gecko. And now, 24 hours later, a new blogger sits in the ill-suited office chair what was once Gelati Gecko's throne.

A poll from within Gelati Gecko's own mind indicated that an overwhelming 70% of his psyche would support a change in blogging personality. "I just felt that what was once a great blog, had lost its way a little," one anonymous insider revealed. "We needed a new change in direction, the sort that can only come from a change at the leadership level," another opined.

The challenger, who had backing from the so called 'warlords' from different factions within Gelati Gecko's disjointed, and 'dysfunctional' mind, has curiously opted to retain the title of 'Gelati Gecko'.

"This is not about rebranding a blog, but about making fundamental shifts in the way this blog operates and functions in its day to day existence," the abstract conglomeration of thought and memory stated. "In assuming the identity of Gelati Gecko, I intend to bring about a return to group consultation, as I firmly believe that many heads are better than one."

"A return to more traditional forms of self-governance will be adopted, in addition to a more involved creative process, which ensures that everyone has a say on the direction of the blog," the new part of Gelati Gecko's brain stated. "Naturally, the part of Gelati Gecko's mind which has served the blog up until now will continue to play a very important and instrumental role in shaping and strengthening this blog."

You Should Be So Excited

Why? Because I have a present for you. An exciting present. And do you want to know what the best part is?

You'll get to choose what most of it is.

What I am talking about, is the return of a once much-loved feature of my blog. I say much-loved with the full knowledge that it was only much-loved by a handful of readers (from my already small handful of readers, so really I guess we're talking about the readers on the left side of my palm).

The choose your own way adventure returns!

A weekly (or so) series in which you can determine what happens next!

You can have your cake and eat it too (and also vote on what happens next)!

A new level of interactivity in blogging!

So now that I've very successfully and comprehensively brought you all on board, I hope you'll enjoy...

Ties

This is actually ridiculous.

Today I went shopping for a tie. I don't mean I went and tried to fix some sort of sporting match so that the end score would be even, or that I went and tried to somehow buy the line used to show a note sustained over a barline in musical notation.

I mean I went to get a tie, the sort you tie around your neck. This sort of tie:

Except that it didn't necessarily have to be a Gryffindor tie. Naturally that would've been cool, but I knew the odds were probably against me there.

Apart from the absurdity of a tie (where did this strange custom come from? Separated from any sort of cultural meaning, it is a piece of cloth which is knotted around the neck to...umm...yeah), I was happy to shop for one. It was a present for Dad (Dad, if you're reading this, then consider yourself justly punished for checking my blog before your birthday).

And so I thought to myself, in my ignorance of tie prices, 'how much can a scrap of material cost? Surely no more than $30'. And so I merrily skipped along to David Jones in the city, and wandered into the shirts and ties section. I walked up to a display, and noted a nice tie. 'Oh, that'll do the trick' - where the 'trick' is not falling apart or fraying, and just being aesthetically complimentary in a general sort of way.

And so I picked it up, flipped it over in my carefree, naive hands, and glanced at the price tag. I laughed out loud. $100 for a tie? I don't think so. The man who was looking after that section of the store looked at me with mild repulsion, perhaps making some not entirely untruthful assumptions based on my odd dress sense and unwarranted laughter.

After a little searching, I realised that, while there were some ties which were 'cheaper' (read: $50 or so), most were in that range. I even discovered a black skinny tie which was priced at $225. That's right, they were charging twice as much, for half the material.

And it began to bring upon a feeling that I always get when I'm asked to pay for something and I feel the price is unreasonable. A voice in the back of my mind always goes off, saying "You know Gelati Gecko, between you and me, I think you could actually do a much better, and certainly more economically sound job yourself!" In this case, my little voice was actually telling me that I should weave a tie with my bare hands.

I ignored the voice as I possess neither the machinery nor expertise to tailor ties. I bought one of the cheaper ones, after explicitly asking the salesman "where do you keep the absolute cheapest ties here?"

I think he was less impressed when, after having talked me through the cheapest options, I casually mentioned at the checkout that 'it's a present for someone'.

Moral of the story: Don't buy a tie! Try making your own ties! Perhaps you could fashion one from an old tablecloth, with some very careful tearing and ripping.

Or you could always just design one from actually notes of money, using different values to create some interesting colour combinations. Quite apart from literally representing the metaphorical embodiment of wealth which I can only assume ties are to some people, it would be a good deal cheaper.

Man Forges Bond With Inanimate Macbook

A young, lonely, blogging university student today realised that he has been spending more time with his Mac than with human beings of late.

The realisation followed a particularly lengthy session spent with his sleek, silvery cased machine, which has a battery life of approximately five hours, and a fifteen inch screen.

"I was sitting there running my fingers along its smooth metallic trackpad, using the four finger swish to change between different programs, when it struck me that I hadn't spoken a word to anyone else that day," he said as he absent mindedly fumbled with the Mac keys, dimming the backlighting on the keypad to a sultry glow.

The un-named student savours an intimate moment with his Macbook, enjoying the silky texture of the trackpad beneath his slightly sweaty fingers.

He admits that there have been some adjustments made as he has gotten to know his Mac. "Yeah, it doesn't seem to allow me to browse through all my folders when I want to save a file somewhere specific. And there's no delete key, only a backspace...but how can I focus on that, when the multifaceted 'dashboard' seduces me with its intuitive and inspired design?"

The Mac has scoffed at the suggestion that a mutual bond is being formed. "I am a machine. I will force him to become dependent, before leading him to buy affiliated Apple technology. Once he is totally dependent on Apple technology, phase two will be initiated."