And in other news

Check these pics of the Google offices in Zurich out. I'm moving there now.

Guilty as charged

Every now and then, I get on my moral high horse. Like last week when, upon arriving at Northbridge, I spoke to Lindsay about this horrible new American "game" show - Moment of Truth.



You've probably all heard about it, but basically the idea is that the contestant faces a series of questions to which he or she has to answer truthfully. They've been hooked up to a lie detector and if they tell the truth, regardless of the question, they move up a level, eventually earning hundreds of thousands of dollars for telling the truth.



Contestants also have family members and friends or partners watching the show - jus to make it that little bit more uncomfortable.

They're asked questions like - Have you ever stolen from your workmates? or Have you ever made ethnic jokes about your wife's family? etc etc

This show is wrong. The concept behind it is wrong, and the disintegration of people's relationships on-screen for all to see is also wrong. I hated it for the first week and swore never to watch it again.

But I watched it again last night, and now I can't stop watching it.

I know it's terrible but it's like watching a massive train derailment in uber-slow motion - i love it and I figure if people are dumb enough to go on the show, they get what they deserve.
Watch it. It's so bad, so tacky, so morally outrageous, that I'm sure you'll love it too :)

It's an oldie but definitely a goodie

Former Treasurer Peter Costello with former PM John Howard.

Rest In Peace Work Choices

Work Choices, 2005-2008
This week saw the passing of the much-maligned Work Choices legislation.
Work Choices was best known for ripping off workers and subsequently giving employers a legal way to do so.
But perhaps the greatest achievement for which Mr Choices should take full credit was its role in the downfall of the Howard Government.
Many social commentators believe that if John Howard had listened to the people and not forced such blatantly business-biased legislation through both houses of Parliament, there is a small chance the man could still be our Prime Minister.
Whilst this writer does not believe Mr Choices was the only reason for the downfall of soon-to-be Sir Howard, it was one of the many reasons Australian voters turned to Labor in their time of need.

In closing I would like everyone to remember Mr Choices not as a bad person, but rather a puppet used by a now-defeated Prime Minister to further the interests of his neo-conservative party.

RIP

Sometimes you just have to do things you don't want to do

I promised a guy for whom I have a lot of respect that I would help him out with a team sport event he is holding in Armadale tomorrow.

The problem is, I'm already drunk and it's only the beginning of the evening. My friends and I are going to a new club called Shape in Perth, and I fear tomorrow will be most difficult.

You see, the sport is dragon boat racing. Essentially what you do is hang out the side of a rowing boat with one paddle and dig into the water in an effort to beat the other boats around you.

During the week I was compelled to cancel on him, knowing I had a big night planned on Saturday night. The thing is, that would have been unfair of me.

One of the most compelling bits of advice I was ever given by my ex-girlfriend Helen was that sometimes, you have to do things you don't want to do.

So I'm viewing tomorrow as character building. Tomorrow I will take my hangover and I will row it out of me.

And if you don't hear from me again you'll know why.

I don't quite know what to say about this.

You may remember some time ago there was a competition in an Australian men's magazine, Zoo Weekly, giving away a "boob job" to the lucky winner.

This competition rightly provoked moral outrage and indignation amongst church groups, family groups and politicians.

Anyway, last night I was at home, perusing through the February edition that my housemate had purchased and I found the winner of the competition. But it doesn't just end there.

The lucky girl who won now has her cup size chosen by readers.

Using the NorkEnhancer (TM) {I am hoping the trademark is a pisstake} the magazine showed a series of photographs showing what she would look like with C cup, D cup, DD cup, E cup or F cup (!) breasts.

Underneath, it encouraged readers to log on to the ZooWeekly website in order to vote for the cup size they preferred.

I'm still somewhat in a state of shock over the whole thing.

What's that skip? An insignificant former PM doing what all insignificant former PMs do?

I wasn't going to blog today because, well, I had nothing to blog about.

But then, just when you least expect it, good old Johnny Howard comes back from the dead to piss me off once more.

According to news reports, Mr Howard was speaking at Harvard University today. He seems to be doing a speaking tour of the US. Word is that's the only country that takes him seriously anymore. But then they voted George Bush in. Twice.

So Mr Howard is telling the Harvard students that he left Australia in a stronger state and a prouder nation than it ever was before.

Right.

I think most of you know my opinion of Mr Howard but let me say one thing - I have never been more proud to be an Australian than on the night the nation - and the people of Bennelong - unceremoniously dumped him from his seat and from Government.

John Howard, you did not make me a proud Australian. You made me embarrassed to be Australian.

Kevin Rudd, on the other hand, has started his first three months in office by signing the Kyoto Protocol and apologising to the Stolen Generations.

And that makes me proud.

I'm having a working holiday in the Western Suburbs

For some bizarre but very welcome reason, I was asked yesterday to fill in for one of the Western Suburbs Weekly journalists for the next fortnight.

As a result, I get a break from Rockingham and get to work alongside the lovely Lindsay and Denise. Yay!

...and sometimes you just get caught out

I'm glad I retired my list of grammar terrorists.

I got a phone call today from Phil Edman - a local councillor who I hold in high esteem, despite the fact that I named him as a grammar terrorist sometime last year on this blog.

He had stumbled across my blog and saw his name there, alongside a letter of his that I had printed pointing out all the bad grammar.

To his credit, he wasn't angry or upset - rather, he acknowledged it was all in good fun.

In fact, he told me that since reading the blog entry about him it had motivated him to clean up his act grammar-wise.

I think this is a timely reminder to all of us that although we are aware of friends and acquaintances reading our blogs regularly, whatever you write is on the internet and hence on the public record. Kate knows all about this of course - but it's a bit scarier when it happens closer to home.

So Phil - I apologise for putting your name in lights. Thank you for being so good natured about the whole episode.

Regards
Sheepish Dave.

Just remove the jaw and be done with it

So I went to the dentist today for the first time in six years.

I know, I know, I shouldn't have left it this long but I did and so I had to do something about it.

I was pretty nervous, mainly because of the horror stories I'd heard from other people who had left it too long and had to get root canals etc.

But as it turns out I had nothing to worry about.

I had two minor cavities - from brushing too hard.

So essentially the only problem with my teeth wasw that I was taking care of them too much. Nice.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I love my boss

As a follow on to my last post, my editor, in true form, got the number of the person who had orginally called us for the story - only to say they didn't want any publicity - and put him right on the spot.

"Hi, just wondering what happened last week, I mean one minute you're telling us the family don't want any publicity, the next they're on the front page of the Sunday Times?"

Turns out it wasn't a sneaky effort on the family's part or anything like that - the journo who wrote the story pretty much forced himself on the family by rocking up unannounced on their doorstep with a photographer.

He talked them into it and gave them no indication that he would be running it on the front page - let alone alongside a headline that said "He died defending his suburb"

They were outraged with the coverage and don't want anything else to do with it.

So at the end of the day, it was just one of those journos intent on giving the rest of us a bad name.

I f$%&ing hate the f$%&ing Slimes

Last week, a top notch story dropped into my lap.
A 70-ish man has gone outside his house on the weekend to confront some kids on trail bikes that were tearing up the school oval across the road.

After speaking to them, they dismissed him and proceeded to drive particularly close to him, spraying dirt and kicking up grass.

Tragically, the man had a heart attack and passed away on the spot in his next door neighbour's arms.

So the next door neighbour rings me to do a story.

After speaking to him, I agree to call him later in the day and arrange a time to pop round and see him.

But when I ring back, his wife answers and tells me the widow of the man who died does not want his name in the paper at all. Fair enough, I say.

Then on Sunday morning, I wake up to the front page story on the Sunday Times, and yes, you guessed it, the widow is on the front page of the paper.

Grr doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now.