United 93 vs Snakes on a Plane

In the space of less than a week (and totally by coincidence, I might add), I've seen two movies at the cinema dealing with life-threatening situations on planes, and I just thought it would be interesting to look at the different ways in which the filmmakers dealt with the same basic premise. Now I'll do this in a point-by-point fashion, just comparing little aspects of both films until we have reached a verdict as to exactly which one extracted the most ambrosia of quality out of the thing-from-which-ambrosia-comes of story. And indeed, it is sentences like that last one that lead people to dependence on drugs like alcohol and toad poison.

So here we go.

POINT NUMBER ONE

United 93 dealt with a shocking, devastating true event that changed the way we see the world, in a captivating way.

Snakes on a Plane dealt with a farcical, ridiculous concept with no grounding in reality whatsoever and did so in a very silly way.

POINT NUMBER TWO

The makers of United 93 had clearly done a great deal of research into the people that were actually involved on that day and obviously had a great deal of sympathy for all of the characters, including the terrorists.

The makers of Snakes on a Plane quite clearly didn't give a shit about the characters except the ones who had large tits or could yell in a very loud, very black voice.

POINT NUMBER THREE

United 93 had a carefully constructed real-time plot with eerily everyday dialogue and human reactions.

Snakes on a Plane used endless, unbelievably inane dialogue as it limped from one Deus ex Machina situation to the next.

POINT NUMBER FOUR

The makers of United 93 had recruited a cast of unknown, amateur actors which lent the film an air of foreboding realism.

The makers of Snakes on a Plane had recruited a cast of unknown, amateur actors which lent the film an air of really bad acting.

POINT NUMBER FIVE

United 93 had a number of powerfully moving moments as the doomed passengers passed loving farewell messages on to their families.

Snakes on a Plane was full of shallow, schmaltzy faux-sentimentality in the spirit of the Hollywood credo that life-or-death situations always make everybody incredibly horny.

POINT NUMBER SIX

United 93, although viewed from the perspective of the plane who supposedly 'fought back against the foreign black murdering bastards', there is a minimum of obnoxious, Americo-centric heroics.

Snakes on a Plane stars Samuel L Jackson, and is therefore a non-stop montage of obnoxious, Americo-centric heroics with the occasional piece of plot development thrown in.

BUT THE FINAL POINT-

United 93 had no snakes on a plane.

Snakes on a Plane did.

THE WINNER? Snakes on a Plane, obviously. Hands-down.

P.K.Simpson & Co.

Last night, I was watching late-night TV (as you do), and as I was getting increasingly and more violently irritated by the barrage of ads for phone, internet, SMS dating and Jenna Jameson's eyes being blue, I was suddenly STRUCK with the collosal, magnificent power of The. Single. Greatest. Ad. In the history of everything ever. Now brace yourselves, you're entering a new dimension from which it will be impossible to extract oneself because of the sheer overwhelming force of the ecstatic bliss that accompanies the knowledge of what I am about to divulge.

It consisted of a plain blue screen - I mean, genius right there, yeah? Whoever could conjure such magic? And not just any plain blue screen, but a plain blue screen, WITH WRITING ON IT. I mean, have you ever dreamed up such a concept? The masters are always the ones who break the rules, who take such a simple concept and twist and meld it to form their own little pattern until the rest of us can only look on, enviously, like Antonio Salieri, and wonder, how does he do it? How does he make it seem so effortless?

Yet there was further divine sorcery afoot. As I watched this ad for the Traffic Injury & Compensation soliciting firm P.K.Simpson & Co, jaw gaping moronically, the voiceover spoke the immortal words by which I shall henceforth guide my life. A slogan from the heavens above, words that Jesus Christ himself couldn't conjugate, that make the combined works of Shakespeare, Chaucer and Dickens look like the Sun Herald TV Guide's interview with Paris Hilton.

"Homer doesn't work here, but P.K. does"

O ye speaker of divine truth, I bow down before my immortal creator and suckle at the ground ye made, I am but a groundling, a wretch, in the face of such eternal wisdom.

Heavenly visions aside though, I would dearly love to jump on the promotional bandwagon, because genius like this is something I want to heavily encourage and foster to blossom, and bloom, and grow, into something beautiful and precious for the whole world to enjoy.

So if you've received an injury at work and want to make a claim, don't be embarrassed, come and meet with one of the solicitors at P.K. Simpson & Co. The first consultation is FREE and can be arranged after work hours.
Call Sydney (02) 9299-1424 now, or visit us at Level 6, 49 Market St, Sydney.

If you have a query, simply email enquiry@pksimpson.com.au, and we will call you back.

Homer doesn't work here, but P.K. does.

Disturbing Self-Revelations

On my recent weekend trip to Orange, aside from receiving a constant chiding from my father and brother (hickory sticks and everything) to post on my blog more often, I also came across something else which inspired me to post.

One of Jez and my tasks while we were up there was to go through a plethora of kitschy crap that has piled up in boxes and cupboards and bags all through what used to be my bedroom, and decide what of it was worth keeping (such as the giant papier mâché cat sculpture with huge teeth my aunt gave me for my fifteenth birthday) and what was utter and complete crap (my birth certificate, photo albums, sporting and academic awards, etc.) Anyway, while we were going through a box of papers on which I had written or drawn (badly. I seriously can't stress how bad I was, and am, at drawing) at some time or another, I came across a piece of writing, clearly in my own hand, that really rather disturbed me. Given the explanatory sidenote that my own grandparents are called Eula and Lloyd, here it is, in its entirety:

THIS IS WEIRD BECAUSE LLOYD IS NORMALLY REALLY TWINKLETOES FAIRY MAN

Winter
Terry spends all his time in his room
Grandpa Lloyd gets worried
He decides to take Terry & Grandma Eula up Mt Fosho (a long task without cars)
They catch a train and begin climbing up (with huge rucksacks)
Terry is always complaining about the cold
Grandma Eula cracks and rants and raves non-stop
As they go up, Grandma Eula is getting more & more annoying
She is driving them crazy
Grandpa Lloyd threatens to throw Grandma Eula off the edge
Grandma Eula continues to rant
Grandpa Lloyd cracks and loosens Grandma Eula's grip on a rock
Grandma Eula grabs his hand and they both fall down
They take the food with them (By the way, they are dead)
Terry runs down and finds them dead.
He has to survive on the food.
When it runs out, he has to eat his grandparents.
When other people come up, he gets rescued
Police find the remains of Eula & Lloyd
They arrest Terry for murder.
Terry gets sentenced to life.
He likes getting locked up in solitary confinement.
AND THEY ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

Now what really disturbed me about this, apart from the fact that it's just plain weird, is that despite the fact that I clearly wrote it, I have absolutely no discernible memory of doing so. I don't know when I wrote this, I certainly have no idea why I wrote it, and I am absolutely stupefied as to what particular substances I was smoking at the time.

This disturbance was compounded further when Jez came across a couple of other pages featuring the exact same characters, one of which was a map of the house in which the three lived, and the other was a table listing their particular character traits and habits. So this wasn't just some isolated baby-panadol-induced hallucination, this was some sort of weird serial with unnecessary character depth. While it helped to explain a couple of the more ambiguous passages in the above opus, it ruined my ability to laugh it off as a freak occurrence in my otherwise sane and mentally-undiseased childhood. Just for illustrative purposes, here is the table in the best reproduction I can manage, without being bothered to screw around with fancy HTML commands:

Reads:
GRANDMA EULA
Horror
Crime
GRANDPA LLOYD (From other side of family)
Flower Fairy Books
Barbie Magazine
TERRY
Comedy
Mystery

Plays:
GRANDMA EULA
Shooting Games
Electric Guitar
GRANDPA LLOYD
Hungry Hungry Hippos
Triangle
TERRY
The computer
Saxophone

Likes:
GRANDMA EULA
Listening to AC/DC
Taking Heroin
Lifting Weights
GRANDPA LLOYD
Listening to Janice Ian
Cooking vegetarian meals
TERRY
The TV
KFC
Macca's

Dislikes:
GRANDMA EULA
Grandpa Lloyd
Terry
GRANDPA LLOYD
Grandma Eula
Heavy metal music (That includes opera in his opinion)
TERRY
Grandparents
Spending time in the house outside of his room

So realistically, this latter portion should have clarified it a lot. I mean, there's a fair bit of material in there that helps with the dating and it's clearly just me being silly and over-the-top, but at the same time, it's still creepy (I mean, the heroin reference really isn't cool), and the fact that there is more than one of these suggests I should really remember it. Especially considering my memory of the weird, Freudian mess I call my childhood is usually pretty acute (For example, the story Jez told at my 21st about me and my 'body exploration' in kindergarten class was nothing he was present for, I gave him that story word-for-word specifically so he could use it at my 21st). So basically my discovery of these strange works was sort of like watching a video of oneself age three playing a game of bathtub 'find the cucumber' with Uncle George that one had successfully repressed.

But then again, it's been fairly well established that I'm a strange individual, so why should this make a difference?

11 Pages of Utter No Sense

For want of a real post, and because I'm bored, I thought I'd share with the world a conversation had by me, Bec and Cat via Microsoft Word in BAC a few months ago (I just know it was in the middle of the exam period, can't provide an exact date), largely because I know the three of us often refer to this conversation in a somewhat amusing context and it might make more sense if everyone could read it. So although this is going on my blog, it was of course a group effort.

(I have tried to establish who was typing at the start but it gets really hard later on)

Bec:You see the guy with black hair, your 2 oclock, with the black shirt

Sam:Yes

He’s julian, I’ve bumped into him three times now in the space of one week. It must be fate

That’s not such a bad fate… he’s pretty dreamy

I’m wondering should I go over and ask him about the test?

No, I think you should go and ask him to a movie…

Hey cat, julian the choice guy choice bro?

I don’t get it but anyway, oh…..

Hey cat, I bumped into him outside target at Macquarie centre, the one thatsam used to work at, turns out that he LIVES in epping, and has beenworking at target for a few months the same target that’s three shops awayfrom MY WORK!!!!

Woah, freaky… hehehe

Hang on, he just turned around properly, he’s not really dreamy at all, Iretract my statement. PS This is confusing with three people typing, andI’m Bec

NOOOOOOO, my identity has been stolen, I’m THE REAL BEC

Damn you all, you know I’m bec!!

Yeah well I must be Bec because *Bec laugh* see? Nobody else can imitate mylaugh!

No, I’m bec because I don’t use capitalisation….damn Microsoft word autopunctuation thing

Hehehe, you don’t fool anyone!

Yeah, see I don’t use capitalisation either, so I’m bec

Hang on, surely we can learn to share and care, i mean, surely there’s lotsmore bec to go around

Well yes I mean I’m sure there’s a little bit of Bec in everybody…*sings* ‘and a little bit of this and a little bit of that and shake yourbum…’ *claps*

*raps* I’m Bec, yes I’m the real Bec, all you other Becs are just imitatingso would the real Bec please stand up, please stand up, please stand up*stops rapping*

I’ve stood up, *stands up* so I’m the real bec I must be anyway this issillyJulian, let’s get back to him, this is fate I tell you all

Shut up Sam, stop pretending to be me (Bec)

No, sam’s just obsessed with julian, bec, that’s all

It’s so dangerous opening word, it just ends up being a silly conversationhehe it’s funnyJulian is funny

Last time didn’t it turn into a silly one-line-at-a-time hard-boileddetective story instead?

That was classic literature… we need more of that

Money reaping classic literature…or mmmmoooooorrrrreeee studying? Hmmmm

Money reaping! *sings* ‘I want money dododo that’s what I want’

*sings* sugar dodododododo oh honey honey…

Will you be my nasty girrrrrl. Feisty little one

Feisty… or nasty?

Either suits me

But not sweet?

Hello, I’m James and I’m an alcoholic.\\sdlkgjas

Hello james! Are you drunk?

Ioruweoirwiutyoqejdfsnmj wevn, weofj,dcx

Youre a very good player Scripto20.And no, you’re not expected to get that.

Go away you random thing, here we don’t tolerate that sort of randomness!!!

*sings* oh ypu random thing, oh you random thing

Randomly sexy? Hello?? Hello??

No, I think my sexiness happened for a reason.

Am suddenly very curious, for what divinely inspired god given reason?(by the way I can’t believe that sam is managing well reading his lecturenotes AND participating in this)

Why not? It’s like a real lecture

Yeah, you’d be surprised how many similarities there are between discussingepistemological theories of intelligence and this conversation.

You in other words you have been reading theories and also applying thosetheories at the same time?

Oh hell yes. Me very epistemological.

What does it mean? The computer won’t tell me… *sulks* I keep thinking thatother word that means where wordes come from and stuff

I think I know a word that cat doesn’t whoa…..

Well, you see wordes are born when a mummy worde and a daddy worde loveeach other very much…

And then what happens uncle sam??? *bec tugs at uncle sam’s shirt wantingmore information*

I’ll wait till you’re older and can download it for yourself…

So uncle sam, if you have a whole bunch of wordes, what is the proper wordfor a collective noun describing a group of wordes?

I’d say a whole bunch of wordes is sufficient terminology…

Bloody wordes, ther’re too many of them these days, why don’t they all goback where they came from?

/A giant super duper mummy worde and giant super duper daddy worde?

Yes, Bec *pats on head in tentative, oh my God this bitch is fucking insanekind of way*

*bec slaps uncle sam*

*uncle sam starts getting disturbingly aroused*

Ewwww, that’s so wrong, she’s your niece….

*bec slaps cat*

*uncle sam deliberately misreads “niece” as “nice” and says* She’s not justnice, she’s also NASTY.

*bec slaps uncle sam feistily*

*cat brings out the pillows*

*as julian is exiting from the building*

Wouldn’t it have been funny if he’d come over and read this?

*bec slaps uncle sam*

*as uncle sam, a grown man, cries and takes his hanky out*

You must have slapped him pretty hard…

and uncle sam is lost* for words?

Nah nah, ‘WORDES”

Yes, all those bloody wordes went back to from whence they came

Where did the bullet come from uncle sam????

The bullet came out fromnowhere……

No it didn’t, I just shot you cos I’m sick of getting slapped…

Climatic moment in the thing, *bec gets shot, and falls*

Noooo!! Why? She was so young? Bec, bec, can you hear me???

*bec mutters ‘my dying wish….world peace…world pea….’ And dies*

MEDIC! MEEEEEEDIIIIIIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *starts sobbinguncontrollably while looking at blood gushing from Bec’s wound*

Does anybody know CPR? Where can I find a world pea?

In a world peapod, silly.

Ok, where can I find a world PEAPOD?

Good question. But I still say it’s lucky she wanted a world pea, insteadof world peace, for example. Because I have NO idea where we’d find aworld peace.

Hahahahahah ha ha ha…. Yeah… what a stupid idea THAT would be

Perhaps she meant world piece, like, a piece of the world.

Bec you’re dead. Stop typing. And I’m not Bec.

Whereas I’m a recantation of bec, so there!

I was hoping the ambulance would get here in time, and so on, but now itseems we’re stuck with this recantation… recant?...

Yes and instead of the ambulance, we just got a whole lot of ambivalence…

Hello? Can I type here?

Maybe you didn’t die, you just went on a diet, and it was all a typo

Type? Typing typo? It was all a type

Of goose

Ahhh, so this is what they mean by the slipperiness of language

No, they actually mean the slipperiness of LUGGAGE.

Especially if it’s leather, and gets rained on

A leather luggage that reigns?

I’d vote for that

I’d veto that

I’d Danny De Vito that

Danny de Vito’s hat?

Danny de Vito shat?

Presumably at some point

The point of shagging? Shatting? Difference?? (does anybody out there getme?????) (well at least I thought it was funny,…sort of…)

Well at elastic I thought it was.

Well at elastic, I. thought it: “Was”

Was elastic

Well at elastic, I thought it: “Wash”

Elastic washes well

The elastic well washes

The electric eel washers

*shocked* BOOM BOOM

The eclectic seal wishes

(the mitsubushi electric bulldogs)

The elective well wishers

Bee collective shell fishers

She collects sea shells

She sells sea shells by the sea shore?

By the see-saw

You see? That saw?

That store? Youse see that saw?

Youse see dat mofo?

HABIB!!!!!!

El Bashu

El Bash-U

I’ll Bash you?

You’re bashful?

I’m brash-ful

Ful of brash?

Full of trash

Brashy trash, and a little tiny rash?

Brassy trace, and a tinny bass

Barren race and a shiny face

Oooh, deep. Poetic, beauty, SUMBLIME

Darren Hayes and a shiny face

Poetically beautiful sump-line?

Poetically beautiful sump oil

Poetically beautiful strumpet?

Trumpeter with a big brassy thingThing, ‘thing’. Whatchamacallit? Or trupet? Or trumpet?

Mister trump holding the trump card.

Boom boom? Definitely deserved one. Yeah.

Sam and zoned out

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sitting in a tree

Z z z z z z z

Hello, I’m Sam, and I’m a sittinginatree

Hi Sam! You can beat this problem with our handy ten step program

Wait wait, you ARE shattinginatree, you’ve been such a BIG fan of yours

That is, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.

Okay, okay, so you’re not, no need to get all aggressive about it

Just cos YOU haven’t had ‘enlightenment’

How to reach enlightenment, now in a handy ten step program

Silly, you start with step one….But if you ring in the next fifteen minutes, we’ll throw in these bonussteak knives!

St ives?

I don’t know if I want enlightenment, but steak knoves… and I’ve alwayswanted to go to St Ives, lots of cats I hear

What’s a steak knoves?

That’s what I want to know. Hence the appeal of winning

Winning enlightenment? What, you say?

Steak knives and st ives? PLUS CATS???? Talk about jackpot(and bigamy)

As I was going to st ives, I met a man with 7 wives, and I asked if hewanted free steak knives

Well as I was going to st ives, I met a man with 7 knives, and I asked ifhe wanted free steak wives.

Well I was going to st ives, I met a Woman

Well I was going to st knives

I met a cat with 7 lives

At st wives?

I met a wife with 7 cats

YOU met a WOMAN?? Tell me about her…

A woman, who was a wife, who had 7 cats, who each had 7 steak knives

You do the maths

Did each steak knife have 7 lives?

7 cats + 7 steak knives = one badass mofo killing machine

HABIB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

KEBAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FELAFEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BANKSTOW!!!!????????

PADSTOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PADDINGTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHERE????????????????

THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ON THE STAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I DON’T CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IF I DON”T SHARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

STOP STARING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

STOP STARTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

STOP FARTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

POP TARTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

POLE VAULTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PAUL VAUTIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FATTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHATTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHANTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHANNON NOLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GRASSY KNOLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GRASSY NOEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*sings* I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…

CLASSY KNOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GLASSY KNOCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GASSY ROCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

giGANTIC KNICKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FANTASTIC FLICKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nine pages of nonsense

No sense???

No cents???

Nine pints??? Or is that just going too far?

Too far???? Ooo fart (bec loves LOVES toilet humour)

Was just noticing that… *tut tut*

Bec loves aqueous humour

Watery femur???

Wafer-thin lemur?

Waffle linen

mmm… thses sheets are so soft and sugary

Gough Whitlam

Axed prime minister- axe murderer?

Fax machine

Fart machine

Dart board

Fart board haha got in before Bec

Fart hoard

Fart stored

Fart ward

Mark Waugh

Steve Waugh

Phil Waugh

Evelyn Waugh

Feel war? Even A war?

Evener wart??

We started off sane…And now INsane

But I wanted to get OUTsane

And OFFsane?

Or ABOUTsane

Or BEHINDsane

It’s just NOTTHEsame

It’s just not cricket

I know someone who eats crickets, barbecued

CHILLI FLAVOUR

LIGHT N TANGY

But not chicken

Cricket and not chicken

It’s not CHICKEN!!!

Nor butter chicken

Sorry just wanted to look at the in-joke I used earlier…Because couldn’t remember what it was

And it was the “Youre a very good player Scripto20” line

And we were all confused

What are we doing here anyway?

Living and dying

But what’s it all about, really, when you get right down to it?

If there’s been a better note on which to end this conversation, I haven’tseen it

THE END

Adolf Hitler uses "Jew-gon" brand Hydrogen Cyanide!

I don't know if anyone's noticed this, but in DVD stores these days... or at the very least, in the Virgin section of Myer - I haven't checked out any other DVD stores for a while - but the occasional DVD has a little sticker on the cover with a picture of Alan Jones and the caption "Alan Jones recommends" (or a very similar sticker, but with the name and visage of Jackie O instead).

Now, I have manifold, passionate and minutely detailed opinions about this newfound phenomenon, but to begin with I shall be succinct, brief and immediately to the point-

WHO

GIVES

A

FUCK

??????????

I mean honestly, who goes into a DVD shop, or a DVD section of a department store, and says "Gah, so many to choose from, if only I could have some guidance from an unenlightened dickhead celebrity with a brain the size of a male quark's left testicle?". I mean, what irritates me most is that it implies people who shop for DVDs are unable to make up their own minds. But what irritates me more-than-most is the further implication that a movie's merits alone aren't enough to warrant its buying... I mean one of the films emblazoned with one of these icons-of-evil is "E.T. The Extra Terrestrial" and are you seriously telling me that someone is likely to think "Hmm, ET... Sounds like a bit of a dodgy movie, but hey, Jackie O likes it, it MUST be good"

And this isn't something new, obviously; We all know it's been around for years and years, ever since the likes of James Dean et al. strode the planks of stardom and the 'celebrity' age was born, we have been brainwashed with this belief that what's good enough for some famous person is intrinsically, and without any need of evidence, self-testing or independent thought on behalf of a human being, the product to buy. Now admittedly, the average demographic of readers-of-my-blog are slightly more educated than people who would go and buy a tube of "E-Z Melt" glue after hearing Icarus testify that "I never use anything else" *Colgate smile*, so therefore I will bypass the two really obvious getters-of-Sam's-goat, namely the fact that A) It is with only the slightest amoeba of possibility, at best, that any celebrity actually has the foggiest idea which company it was who paid them ten trillion dollars to say "I heartily endorse this e-vent or product", and B) that Alan Jones and Jackie O, as ambassadors, are about as clever as the marketing manager of the Rolf Harris school of wobbleboard and about as effective as a “Quiet Please” sign at a Slipknot concert.

Instead, I will go on to mention the most galling and mind-boggling factor of all – that there are people out there who would actually be swayed by these stickers. I mean, I don’t know this for certain, I haven’t yet heard of people telling our Virgin employees, “Well you know, I’ve never heard of Gone with the Wind, but Alan Jones said it was worth a look if you enjoyed You Got Served. So I thought I’d give it a go” but it stands to reason, doesn’t it? Not because it’s logical, or a good marketing ploy, or because Alan Jones or Jackie O have the tiniest iota of taste in movies, but because it is the tragic and devastating truth that Australian people are stupid. Now, leaving aside the obvious fact that I am Australian and therefore this rule cannot apply to EVERYBODY, I will nevertheless provide you with a few short bits of evidence to show how quite overwhelmingly moronic and suggestible the Australian public can be:

1) Schnappi das Kleine Krokodil exists. And was successful enough to bring out a second single.

2) The Cronulla riots.

3) John Howard is in power.

4) Crazy Frog exists. And was successful enough to bring out a second AND A THIRD single AND AN ALBUM.

5) Australians continue to believe they can escape the drug sensors undetected at Indonesian airports.

6) Big Brother and Australian Idol are able to plan yet another series for 2006 and know that they will still be Channel Ten’s highest rating shows of the year.

7) Some people respect the opinion of Alan Jones and Jackie O.

And I know that all in all it does no good to complain apart from making me feel better having gotten needlessly angry and ranty about something trivial and completely unimportant. There will always be the mindless zombies out there, I mean if they didn’t exist, mass media itself wouldn’t exist. And that would be a terrible world in which to live, wouldn’t it? All I can say is that I think the message of The Lorax by Dr. Seuss rings ever more true, presented with these sad truths about human nature:

I said to the Lorax, “You poor stupid guy,
You never can tell what some people will buy”

What transpires, however, in this timeless and almost Orwellianly prescient work, is that it is not the Lorax himself who is poor and stupid but the whole damn lot of humanity. And so-

Let the coming apocalypse befall the cursèd heads of Alan Jones and Jackie O when we find ourselves astride a desolate and Godless rock, extinct and void of the beautiful Truffula Tree.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Sam Reviews Public Toilets V: Macquarie Shopping Centre

I thought it high time, considering I haven't written about the places (and toilets) I frequent most outside of uni hours that I review:

Part V: Macquarie Shopping Centre (Food Court)
(Herring Road, North Ryde NSW)

Capacity

Very good. There are about eight cubicles and even during the busiest hours of the food court (which are even busier than the same hours at Carlingford), I've always been able to find a spare one. This is also the first toilet I've reviewed with individual urinals rather than a trough, and while I have no preference, it seems, for some God-unknown reason, that people actually prefer using these to troughs, and so it's not as common for people to use a cubicle for no reason other than male insecurity and shyness as in other places. 9/10

Cleanliness

Fairly poor. Although I never see people using the cubicles often, they really like to fuck around with the toilet paper and leave it lying everywhere. The floor is often quite wet as well - although this isn't quite as bad as in Manly, since I am usually wearing shoes when I'm in there. But considering the frequent rounds made by Macquarie cleaning staff, I think it could be better maintained, especially during quiet hours. 4/10

Washing Area

Good and bad. There are lots of taps (so many so that they stretch around a corner) and they're fairly easy to operate. But, as I have frequently become incensed at, all taps (and that means, for the whole centre, not just this particular toilet) spray out only hot water, which means it's really difficult to get a free drink. I personally think that's really poor form and is bordering on sociopathic by centre management. Okay and hurrah for encouraging enterprise by forcing people to buy cool drinks but I mean even the Horse & Jockey pub is legally required to provide cool drinking water if you ask. Plus they only have automatic dryers - and they're pretty hard to keep going. I remember the highlight of my week a couple of months ago was that I managed to keep one of these air dryers going until my hands were satisfactorily dry. 5/10

Tszujiness

Average. It's white and clean-looking but it's so early-nineties in its decor. It could seriously do with a Thom Felicia-style makeover (Although I'm not sure if he really does bathrooms). I mean, it's fine but there's just nothing attractive about it. It's just a toilet. And considering what all the Westfields are doing to their toilets, I'd say it's time for Macquarie to stick a crowbar into their wallet and renovate up. 3/10

Overall Satisfaction

Considering my main purpose in here these days is to shoot up, it's very good because capacity is what I care about. Otherwise it's pretty satisfying overall, I mean it's the sort of toilet you can use in a hurry when having lunch or something and be safe in the knowledge that you'll get a cubicle or urinal and you probably won't catch cholera. 6.5/10

Ranking in the Public Toilet System

1) Ryde RTA Motor Registry
-> 2) Macquarie Centre Food Court
3) Carlingford Court Ground Level
4) Manly Beach Surf Life Saving Building
5) Top Ryde Shopping Centre Food Court

Sam Reviews Public Toilets IV: Ryde RTA Motor Registry

Part IV: In the Ryde RTA Motor Registry
(Corner Blaxland & North Rds, Ryde NSW)

Capacity

Small, but I would say modest. While it's a busy place, it certainly isn't the first place you'd think of for a toilet to be and so therefore I would say it serves a minimal number of people and the one-person-wide trough and one cubicle is probably plenty for the number of users. 7/10

Cleanliness

Pretty good. I should make allowances for the fact that, as I said, not many people would use these, but nevertheless it's pretty well maintained. The smell is one thing I noticed, very well balanced and deodorized. 7/10

Washing Area

Only one tap, which could be a letdown but in my case it wasn't. Again, due to its lack of regular business I'd say, clean and free of any massive splashback. Hand towels for drying and a bin for safe disposal. I approve heartily. 7/10

Tszujiness

Well, meh. What can you expect? But I mean, even your average house can do better than this, but then they may entertain more often. This place isn't exactly a bag of laughs. 4/10

Overall Satisfaction

Considering I was in such a shitty mood at my treatment by the RTA staff and the way they like to make life all the more difficult for people with a medical condition, I was pretty well satisfied with these modest but nicely hygienic and welcoming toilets. 7/10

Ranking in the Public Toilet System

-> 1) Ryde RTA Motor Registry
2) Carlingford Court Ground Level
3) Manly Beach Surf Life Saving Building
4) Top Ryde Shopping Centre Food Court

Macarthur Park is the greatest song ever

Before I start with my rationale why Macarthur Park is the greatest song ever, I would like to issue a challenge to all those who read this title and thought "Heheh, Sam's being ironic - like that stupid pile of semi-musical horse shit is even worthy of the title of WORST song ever" to prove, logically, empirically and definitively with reference to at least TWO respected scientific journals, why it is not the greatest song ever. It cannot be done. Therefore, logically, it simply MUST be the greatest song ever. But for those sceptics who would like to throw my own arguments back at me, asking me to prove my own points, well I provide you with the WHY.

REASON NUMBER ONE: It was sung by Richard Harris. How many songs can claim that they have achieved this incredible feat? Well, eight, it seems. But of all the songs in the world that are generally regarded as 'the greatest ever', virtually none. (Although "How to Handle a Woman" did once make it to number 834 on the 'most popular songs ever' list produced by the national recording company of Malawi). Anyway, the fact that Macarthur Park was sung by Richard Harris in itself makes it the greatest song ever, as found by Vingerhoetz et al. in the distinguished and really down-to-earth empirical scientific journal, volume 34 issue 2, September 1968, which stated that "Any song made by anyone who isn't Richard Harris is NOT the greatest song ever"

REASON NUMBER TWO: It is about a cake. This is singly the greatest idea in the history of music since some guy said "Hmm, I think I'll invent music", and what's more is that writing a song about a cake is incredibly difficult in itself. But what makes this song even greater and therefore intrinsically worthy of the title 'greatest song ever' is that in this case, the cake is simply used as a metaphor for what was seemingly a nicely fulfilling springtime romance with a young person of the ladyship persuasion that was tragically fated, and will never happen again. The brilliance of using the cake as nothing more than a metaphor is a mark of absolute genius that alluded such other similarly themed opuses as "Pat a Cake, Pat a Cake" (Although there is a rumour that this latter song is very subtly and sinisterly a revelation of who really assassinated JFK). Furthermore, this metaphor is joined by the greatest simile ever put onto parchment, "Like a stripey pair of pants".

REASON NUMBER THREE: It's really, really long. Often this would be considered a downside but in this case, since it is a song about a cake, it is a feat worthy of smacking the ground with one's violently-dropping jaw in absolute awe. It is barely even imaginable the idea of being able to insert one line about a cake into any song, let alone drag out a song about a cake for seven minutes plus. Just imagine John Lennon trying to produce an extended version of "Imagine" to include the bridge:

Imagine there's no cake
And no chocolate icing or whipped cream either
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one...

Would that work? Of course not. But in the case of Macarthur Park, not only does the cake theme MAKE the song, but it transcends the whole song. This is more than a song, ladies and gentlemen. It is art itself.

REASON NUMBER FOUR: Unlike all other songs, it is actually ENHANCED by being played on the tabla. This is not because the song by itself is poor, but in the same way that it being about a cake makes it so much better than it would be if it weren't about a cake, an otherwise unbeatable, perfect song is only made better by being played on an obscure, non-musical instrument from the Asian subcontinent. It is the genius of Richard Harris' original version that makes the original absolute perfection and yet made better in subsequent, tabla-involving recordings. No other song can claim that it anticipated further recordings to the point where it was perpetually destined to be improved in this way.

I hope I have put you sceptics in your place. No other song, in the history of everything, can claim to be by Richard Harris and use a cake metaphor as its primary theme. This stands in the face of any contrary evidence and proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Macarthur Park is the greatest song ever. It is a sad fact that Richard Harris is now no longer with us, and knowing that, like him, we (the human race I mean) will, indeed, never have that recipe again.

Sam Reviews Public Toilets III: Manly Beach

Part III: Manly Beach (In the yellow surf lifesaving building)
(North Steyne, Manly NSW)

Capacity

Somewhat less than adequate. There are two cubicles and that's it. I imagine that during any busy periods, there could be lines out the door. And as I'll get to in 'cleanliness', this could be fairly unhygienic. The trough is average size, three people can stand there without feeling uncomfortable. 3/10

Cleanliness

Oh dear. There's something about beach toilets - I mean I don't know what is involved in the maintenance of such toilets but starting with Brighton-le-Sands (I think it was actually Monterey, thinking about it, but we started in Brighton and just walked down the beach) my experience with beachside public toilets has been pretty abysmal. So I think maybe 'nothing' is what maintenance of such toilets involve because seriously, it's quite bad. And it's made worse by the thought that people might be walking on that stale urine-soaked floor with bare feet. Mercifully I was wearing thongs at the time but if I had not been, well let's just say I'd happily hold it, or at the very least I'd be grateful for my proximity to the water, so I could wash and scrub them clean. 1/10

Washing Area

This was a shade better. The taps were pretty crap but at least they were normal faucet-style ones, rather than push-button that just vomit out one sudden gush of water and then stop. Unfortunately, only air dryers. And crappy old ones, at that. 5/10

Tszujiness

It's a purely practical facility. I daresay they assume there's no need to make the toilets nice since it's a beachside suburb and nobody really cares about what's in the inside. Plus everyone presumably urinates in the water anyway. We all know what surf people are REALLY like. Having said that though, if it weren't so filthy, it might look okay. They were going for some sort of tile-floored, concrete-wall motif I'd say, with a stunning diamonte fleur-de-lis that sadly didn't make it to the final blueprint. 5/10

Overall Satisfaction

It's difficult to say considering I really did need to go to the toilet when I went in, so upon leaving I was really quite relieved. Whether I was satisfied though, that's a different story. And a different answer. Which would probably be 'no'. I mean, they could have been alright but realistically they're bloody filthy. 4/10

Ranking in the Public Toilet System

1) Carlingford Court Ground Level
-> 2) Manly Beach Surf Life Saving Building
3) Top Ryde Shopping Centre Food Court