Lets the Sunshine in
I used to think good beer tasted bad. The way Heineken tasted, that is. But then I learned that exposure to light could make beer go “off” and that it would smell and taste skunky. Why does this happen? Because of clear or green glass bottles. Heineken in kegs doesn’t taste the way it often does in bottles. As a result, I don’t buy beer in anything but brown glass, and I’m pretty much off Heineken even on tap. Not that I was going to be of much help in their push to double their Australian sales anyway. There’s enough local product of superior flavor to begin with to keep me happy.
18 May 2004
17 May 2004
Fraud
We’ve grown a little paranoid over the last couple of years, at least in regard to the use of credit cards and the internet, having had our number lifted once off a retailer’s database and having our savings account raided once by a bank employee who redirected an ATM card and PIN to himself or a confederate. Luckily we’ve always detected the fraud early on in the piece, so we haven’t experienced any actual damages in the long run. Nevertheless, we remain reluctant to buy on-line even from trusted retailers, because they’re not the ones we have to worry about per se. But credit card sales on the internet are huge, so the card vendors have a new gimmick to help us indulge our mail-order tastes: fake numbers. It’s no big surprise to me that MBNA is offering this, or Citibank for that matter, since these are two of the biggest credit card vendors out there. It also seems like a really good idea, even if it does add a step or two in executing the transaction. There must be rules in place somewhere in their service agreement with banks offering cards and retailers accepting them that prevent Visa and MasterCard themselves from offering the service, although it would potentially increase their revenue stream if they could charge consumers a small fee. Even though American Express isn’t offering their customers temporary numbers anymore, I’d guess MBNA and Citibank (and eventually others) will continue to do so.
We’ve grown a little paranoid over the last couple of years, at least in regard to the use of credit cards and the internet, having had our number lifted once off a retailer’s database and having our savings account raided once by a bank employee who redirected an ATM card and PIN to himself or a confederate. Luckily we’ve always detected the fraud early on in the piece, so we haven’t experienced any actual damages in the long run. Nevertheless, we remain reluctant to buy on-line even from trusted retailers, because they’re not the ones we have to worry about per se. But credit card sales on the internet are huge, so the card vendors have a new gimmick to help us indulge our mail-order tastes: fake numbers. It’s no big surprise to me that MBNA is offering this, or Citibank for that matter, since these are two of the biggest credit card vendors out there. It also seems like a really good idea, even if it does add a step or two in executing the transaction. There must be rules in place somewhere in their service agreement with banks offering cards and retailers accepting them that prevent Visa and MasterCard themselves from offering the service, although it would potentially increase their revenue stream if they could charge consumers a small fee. Even though American Express isn’t offering their customers temporary numbers anymore, I’d guess MBNA and Citibank (and eventually others) will continue to do so.
Nothin’ But a Good Man Feelin’ Bad
Although the ABC and SBS broadcast some PBS productions, its usually long after they’ve played in the U.S. For Martin Scorsese’s Blues, it will probably be a bit longer, as they’re getting a theatrical release here first (for 6, anyway, Clint Eastwood having denied permission for his to play in theatres). M. & I have been to see two of them over the weekend, Scorsese’s Feel Like Going Home and Wim Wenders’ Soul of a Man. We’ll make a priority of going to Red White and Blues, Mike Figgis’ entry, but will probably wait for the others on video or broadcast, mostly because this is prime movie season for us, what with all the U.S. summer blockbuster releases getting worldwide play (yea! Spideman vs. Doctor Octopus) and the Sydney Film Festival, which will include, again, for us, waiting for some to come out in general release (this one’s my pick: Zatoichi, with Takeshi Kitano).
Of the two Blues films, I prefer Scorsese’s, although so far I’ve been left with strangely mixed feelings coming out from both: I want more detail or more music. The films as documentaries don’t have the seamlessness of, for example, Ken Burns’ Jazz production, nor do they have the musicality of, say, Standing in the Shadows of Motown. When they start down the documentary path, they swerve suddenly into the music, and just when you’re starting to groove on the tunes, they track back into a story, and usually without affording the kind of narrative segue you’d expect. M.’s take on Wenders’ entry was apropos of both, I think, that the narratives skipped over necessary points of connection that would have made sense of the information being presented. Corey Harris, in Feel Like Going Home goes from the Delta to the hills of Mississippi to Africa, and while you come away knowing why you miss a little of the how. Wenders moves from Blind Willie Johnson to Skip James to J. B. Lenoir but never connects the three except by having Lawrence Fishburn speak in Johnson’s voice as the narrator and telling us that James and Lenoir died within three years of each other. Nevertheless, I have to recommend these films, because they document a musical form that gets all too easily lost in rock ‘n’ roll and country music. And like Willie Dixon said, “the blues are the roots, everything else is the fruits.”
Although the ABC and SBS broadcast some PBS productions, its usually long after they’ve played in the U.S. For Martin Scorsese’s Blues, it will probably be a bit longer, as they’re getting a theatrical release here first (for 6, anyway, Clint Eastwood having denied permission for his to play in theatres). M. & I have been to see two of them over the weekend, Scorsese’s Feel Like Going Home and Wim Wenders’ Soul of a Man. We’ll make a priority of going to Red White and Blues, Mike Figgis’ entry, but will probably wait for the others on video or broadcast, mostly because this is prime movie season for us, what with all the U.S. summer blockbuster releases getting worldwide play (yea! Spideman vs. Doctor Octopus) and the Sydney Film Festival, which will include, again, for us, waiting for some to come out in general release (this one’s my pick: Zatoichi, with Takeshi Kitano).
Of the two Blues films, I prefer Scorsese’s, although so far I’ve been left with strangely mixed feelings coming out from both: I want more detail or more music. The films as documentaries don’t have the seamlessness of, for example, Ken Burns’ Jazz production, nor do they have the musicality of, say, Standing in the Shadows of Motown. When they start down the documentary path, they swerve suddenly into the music, and just when you’re starting to groove on the tunes, they track back into a story, and usually without affording the kind of narrative segue you’d expect. M.’s take on Wenders’ entry was apropos of both, I think, that the narratives skipped over necessary points of connection that would have made sense of the information being presented. Corey Harris, in Feel Like Going Home goes from the Delta to the hills of Mississippi to Africa, and while you come away knowing why you miss a little of the how. Wenders moves from Blind Willie Johnson to Skip James to J. B. Lenoir but never connects the three except by having Lawrence Fishburn speak in Johnson’s voice as the narrator and telling us that James and Lenoir died within three years of each other. Nevertheless, I have to recommend these films, because they document a musical form that gets all too easily lost in rock ‘n’ roll and country music. And like Willie Dixon said, “the blues are the roots, everything else is the fruits.”
Clamshell Ashtrays
The idea of banning smoking on the beach is a positive step in many respects: no more butts stubbed out in the sand, no more wafting clouds of smoke spoiling the lovely sea breezes. Sure, when I smoked, I did so on the beach just as much as anywhere else, although at a certain point I was adult enough to pick up after myself. But even when I was a kid, the beaches were cluttered with the stub ends of filtered cigarettes, and these make up a noticeable portion of the plastic waste washed up along shorelines worldwide. I heartily approve Manly Council’s action, and wonder if Clover Moore will do the same for the Harbour beaches, or if the Councils for the Eastern suburbs will follow suit?
Update: The ban has been passed. What makes this possible is that Australian society remains by-and-large tremendously polite, so its citizens tend to be law-abiding almost to a fault. For example, Walk-Don't Walk signs are actually obeyed, regardless of traffic conditions. So if NYC's Mayor Bloomberg can achieve an 11% drop in the number of smokers by his total indoor ban, perhaps Manly will, in this culture, achieve its goals, too.
The idea of banning smoking on the beach is a positive step in many respects: no more butts stubbed out in the sand, no more wafting clouds of smoke spoiling the lovely sea breezes. Sure, when I smoked, I did so on the beach just as much as anywhere else, although at a certain point I was adult enough to pick up after myself. But even when I was a kid, the beaches were cluttered with the stub ends of filtered cigarettes, and these make up a noticeable portion of the plastic waste washed up along shorelines worldwide. I heartily approve Manly Council’s action, and wonder if Clover Moore will do the same for the Harbour beaches, or if the Councils for the Eastern suburbs will follow suit?
Update: The ban has been passed. What makes this possible is that Australian society remains by-and-large tremendously polite, so its citizens tend to be law-abiding almost to a fault. For example, Walk-Don't Walk signs are actually obeyed, regardless of traffic conditions. So if NYC's Mayor Bloomberg can achieve an 11% drop in the number of smokers by his total indoor ban, perhaps Manly will, in this culture, achieve its goals, too.
Thought Crimes Against the Self
Over at The Morning News, Oliver Griswold ”tests his die-hard liberal beliefs” with a diet of all right-wing media, and survives. It’s an amusing essay, without being particularly disputatious, and I doubt I’d have the stamina to try anything similar.
Over at The Morning News, Oliver Griswold ”tests his die-hard liberal beliefs” with a diet of all right-wing media, and survives. It’s an amusing essay, without being particularly disputatious, and I doubt I’d have the stamina to try anything similar.
Because We Let Them
I have to remind myself that Margo Kingston isn’t talking about me or even about the majority of my compatriots when “the Americans” are condemned for the war crimes taking place in Iraq, but rather about my country’s present government and the military and its subcontractors who are actually perpetrating such acts, most probably with at least the tacit approval of the Secretary of Defense. I have to remind myself that the point of her 9 May article is in its headline: ”Howard’s Weakness, Our Danger”. The final paragraph is worth reading alone:
“You know how they get away with it? Because we, the people, let them. In the end, Bush, Blair and Howard invaded Iraq because our democracies were not strong enough to stop them. Blame politicians, blame the media and blame ourselves. The question for all of us, after we purge Australia of this weak, amoral excuse for a leader, is to work out how we can ensure we never let any "leader" do this to us again.”
Yes, that’s right, we only have ourselves to blame. Because in America only a tiny fraction bothers to vote, let alone run for office, because we’ve let running for office become such a burden that only the smallest number of good, thoughtful people can afford the time and expense to rise high enough in the system to get a shot, while a larger number of greedy climbers intent on achieving power either to fulfill a bloated egotism or line their pockets do the same but through patronage and pork-barrelling, and we let that continue. In America we continue the myth that every child can be President, that everything is possible for everybody if they just work hard enough, and that just isn’t so. We continue this myth and turn a blind eye to the social ills that fill our military with the desperate and the deranged and fill our jails with the same, unless they end up in homeless shelters. Because we let all that happen, we can only blame ourselves that George W. Bush is President and has filled his Cabinet with demagogues and pursued his megalomaniacal path to war.
What happened to Great Britain, to Tony Blair? Last I saw he was their Clinton, but with the ascension of Bush II he has grown to resemble nothing so much as a lapdog, one with the sagging physiognomy of a particularly beleaguered bloodhound, too. Are the pictures lies, and can Blair survive following America into this war? He, too, has an electorate that cares little for its responsibility and pursues an isolationist relativism toward its neighbors, exemplified by the inane opposition it mounted to the Chunnel before it opened and its continued reluctance to participate in even Europe’s monetary unification.
And what of Australia? Here the vote is compulsory, yet even after the Patricks scandal and the Tampa John Howard’s government has now run the country for nine years. He’s the Teflon PM it seems, unless this year proves his annus horribilis, as it has for the Iraqis. (Perhaps by claiming for his government the status of “underdog” as he did this week, he’s gone too early into trying for the sympathy of the Aussie battlers, but only time will tell – with the latest poll numbers coming out in opposition to the budget, maybe he’ll deserve the identification.) How does a nation re-elect the Liberals who gutted their social welfare system, who lied and still lie, who dragged their country into an unpopular war despite mass rallies and protests? How can this happen with compulsory voting? Easy: just because you have to vote doesn’t mean you have to think about what you’re doing. It’s easy to pick up a ballot and “vote 1.” Easier than using the preferences system to your advantage instead of letting the politicians manipulate it to their own. And they’re the same, the Australian politicians, as they are in America, the same hoards of climbers and graspers (and, yes, the same principled individuals few in number).
Here, there, the vote is coming, and we have the advantage a lot of other countries don’t. We can have a revolution without resorting to violence; we can vote out the unprincipled, the lazy, the ineffective, the ones without the long-term vision and the stamina to pursue a course of action more befitting the advance of civilization we want. Other countries claim “democratic” status for themselves but suspend their constitutions while a military dictatorship or propped-up feudal tyranny turns its constituency upside down and shakes out its pockets. Get rid of Bush, get rid of Howard. If America is going to be the sole superpower, it needs to use its power for good, not greed. If Australia is going to be a leading democratic power, its got to do so with a good hard look at where it sits in the world. Tony Blair should be lining up a replacement, too; one who can put that nation back on track after the damage Blair’s done by following Bush instead of influencing him, as he’d said he could.
I have to remind myself that Margo Kingston isn’t talking about me or even about the majority of my compatriots when “the Americans” are condemned for the war crimes taking place in Iraq, but rather about my country’s present government and the military and its subcontractors who are actually perpetrating such acts, most probably with at least the tacit approval of the Secretary of Defense. I have to remind myself that the point of her 9 May article is in its headline: ”Howard’s Weakness, Our Danger”. The final paragraph is worth reading alone:
“You know how they get away with it? Because we, the people, let them. In the end, Bush, Blair and Howard invaded Iraq because our democracies were not strong enough to stop them. Blame politicians, blame the media and blame ourselves. The question for all of us, after we purge Australia of this weak, amoral excuse for a leader, is to work out how we can ensure we never let any "leader" do this to us again.”
Yes, that’s right, we only have ourselves to blame. Because in America only a tiny fraction bothers to vote, let alone run for office, because we’ve let running for office become such a burden that only the smallest number of good, thoughtful people can afford the time and expense to rise high enough in the system to get a shot, while a larger number of greedy climbers intent on achieving power either to fulfill a bloated egotism or line their pockets do the same but through patronage and pork-barrelling, and we let that continue. In America we continue the myth that every child can be President, that everything is possible for everybody if they just work hard enough, and that just isn’t so. We continue this myth and turn a blind eye to the social ills that fill our military with the desperate and the deranged and fill our jails with the same, unless they end up in homeless shelters. Because we let all that happen, we can only blame ourselves that George W. Bush is President and has filled his Cabinet with demagogues and pursued his megalomaniacal path to war.
What happened to Great Britain, to Tony Blair? Last I saw he was their Clinton, but with the ascension of Bush II he has grown to resemble nothing so much as a lapdog, one with the sagging physiognomy of a particularly beleaguered bloodhound, too. Are the pictures lies, and can Blair survive following America into this war? He, too, has an electorate that cares little for its responsibility and pursues an isolationist relativism toward its neighbors, exemplified by the inane opposition it mounted to the Chunnel before it opened and its continued reluctance to participate in even Europe’s monetary unification.
And what of Australia? Here the vote is compulsory, yet even after the Patricks scandal and the Tampa John Howard’s government has now run the country for nine years. He’s the Teflon PM it seems, unless this year proves his annus horribilis, as it has for the Iraqis. (Perhaps by claiming for his government the status of “underdog” as he did this week, he’s gone too early into trying for the sympathy of the Aussie battlers, but only time will tell – with the latest poll numbers coming out in opposition to the budget, maybe he’ll deserve the identification.) How does a nation re-elect the Liberals who gutted their social welfare system, who lied and still lie, who dragged their country into an unpopular war despite mass rallies and protests? How can this happen with compulsory voting? Easy: just because you have to vote doesn’t mean you have to think about what you’re doing. It’s easy to pick up a ballot and “vote 1.” Easier than using the preferences system to your advantage instead of letting the politicians manipulate it to their own. And they’re the same, the Australian politicians, as they are in America, the same hoards of climbers and graspers (and, yes, the same principled individuals few in number).
Here, there, the vote is coming, and we have the advantage a lot of other countries don’t. We can have a revolution without resorting to violence; we can vote out the unprincipled, the lazy, the ineffective, the ones without the long-term vision and the stamina to pursue a course of action more befitting the advance of civilization we want. Other countries claim “democratic” status for themselves but suspend their constitutions while a military dictatorship or propped-up feudal tyranny turns its constituency upside down and shakes out its pockets. Get rid of Bush, get rid of Howard. If America is going to be the sole superpower, it needs to use its power for good, not greed. If Australia is going to be a leading democratic power, its got to do so with a good hard look at where it sits in the world. Tony Blair should be lining up a replacement, too; one who can put that nation back on track after the damage Blair’s done by following Bush instead of influencing him, as he’d said he could.
14 May 2004
And How’s the Family?
We caught the tail end of the 7:30 Report on ABC Thursday night for a little Q&A with Mark Latham following his response to Peter Costello’s budget plan announcement. I have to admit I was somewhat underwhelmed, but if we’d managed to watch the response itself, perhaps I’d have felt differently. (The best bit of the program was the satire at the end, with John Clarke playing Costello and interjecting the word “family” for every other noun.) Mr. Latham continues to tubthump in these situations, this time over the plight of citizens at the lower end of the economic spectrum, those earning $1000 per week or less, who are not getting anything out of the Liberals’ budget cuts (unless they crank out more children – in response to the government’s tiresome ploy of playing up their commitment to “family values,” apparently consisting entirely of keeping mothers at home to care for their ever-growing gigantic broods – in which case they’re going to get plenty in lump sum payments, not that their expenses won’t increase along with their population, a worse than zero-sum game indicative of the party-in-power’s social irresponsibility for the state of the nation beyond the next 3 years), and while I’m not unsympathetic, I’m glad of the bracket-creep adjustment I’ll get out of this just the same. The real problem with Labour’s response is that it’s not particularly substantive, which is terribly frustrating during this lead-up period to the next election – August or September or October or November, nobody knows, but at least no later than that – albeit understandable, since Labour doesn’t want to play their hand too soon. (Sometimes I think I’d sell my vote, too, if I had one.) Fine. As much as I appreciate the concept of “getting it right in the first place,” its hard to see the trees for the forest getting thrown up in our faces. It’s been interesting since December to watch Labour pull off Clintonesque moments, stealing a march on fiscally responsible (and socially progressive) ploys the Liberals ought to have accomplished months before, such as the superannuation reform they forced down the government’s throat. But now we’re in a waiting game, waiting for the Liberals to call the election so campaigning can begin in earnest. This ought to happen any minute now, unless they’re waiting for the post June 30 pregnancies to go into their second trimester.
We caught the tail end of the 7:30 Report on ABC Thursday night for a little Q&A with Mark Latham following his response to Peter Costello’s budget plan announcement. I have to admit I was somewhat underwhelmed, but if we’d managed to watch the response itself, perhaps I’d have felt differently. (The best bit of the program was the satire at the end, with John Clarke playing Costello and interjecting the word “family” for every other noun.) Mr. Latham continues to tubthump in these situations, this time over the plight of citizens at the lower end of the economic spectrum, those earning $1000 per week or less, who are not getting anything out of the Liberals’ budget cuts (unless they crank out more children – in response to the government’s tiresome ploy of playing up their commitment to “family values,” apparently consisting entirely of keeping mothers at home to care for their ever-growing gigantic broods – in which case they’re going to get plenty in lump sum payments, not that their expenses won’t increase along with their population, a worse than zero-sum game indicative of the party-in-power’s social irresponsibility for the state of the nation beyond the next 3 years), and while I’m not unsympathetic, I’m glad of the bracket-creep adjustment I’ll get out of this just the same. The real problem with Labour’s response is that it’s not particularly substantive, which is terribly frustrating during this lead-up period to the next election – August or September or October or November, nobody knows, but at least no later than that – albeit understandable, since Labour doesn’t want to play their hand too soon. (Sometimes I think I’d sell my vote, too, if I had one.) Fine. As much as I appreciate the concept of “getting it right in the first place,” its hard to see the trees for the forest getting thrown up in our faces. It’s been interesting since December to watch Labour pull off Clintonesque moments, stealing a march on fiscally responsible (and socially progressive) ploys the Liberals ought to have accomplished months before, such as the superannuation reform they forced down the government’s throat. But now we’re in a waiting game, waiting for the Liberals to call the election so campaigning can begin in earnest. This ought to happen any minute now, unless they’re waiting for the post June 30 pregnancies to go into their second trimester.
Website Mirroring. With Cats
The Infinite Cat Project begins here. I wonder if this Abby will be joined by that Abbie? (And what is it about the internet that prompts so many people to do cute pictures of their pets? Is this what Western culture has come to?)
The Infinite Cat Project begins here. I wonder if this Abby will be joined by that Abbie? (And what is it about the internet that prompts so many people to do cute pictures of their pets? Is this what Western culture has come to?)
Working Without a ‘net
Jock ‘blogging? Too bad there aren’t any pro athletes mentioned here I’m particularly interested in hearing from. The Barry Bonds site isn’t even a weblog, just a place for him to get paid directly by the public for trash. A number of the other sites mentioned don’t much resemble ‘blogs either, so I’m not sure what Slate.com is on about. Doesn’t anybody there know how to play this game? O.k., Mark Cuban, maybe, but by-and-large my guess is most of these guys should stick to the “as told to” format.
Jock ‘blogging? Too bad there aren’t any pro athletes mentioned here I’m particularly interested in hearing from. The Barry Bonds site isn’t even a weblog, just a place for him to get paid directly by the public for trash. A number of the other sites mentioned don’t much resemble ‘blogs either, so I’m not sure what Slate.com is on about. Doesn’t anybody there know how to play this game? O.k., Mark Cuban, maybe, but by-and-large my guess is most of these guys should stick to the “as told to” format.
Ars Gratia Artis
When is a painting not a painting? When it’s a charcoal drawing that wins the Archibald prize, of course. The Archibald is an annual controversy for one reason or another (and over at The Art Life you can find a write-up over an earlier expression of dissatisfaction on the winning portrait, as well as current commentary), but this may be putting too fine a point on it. Mr. Gulpilil is a fine actor – the world at large most likely has him in mind when “Aborigine” is brought up – and a worthy figure for portraiture, no doubt, and the work itself is excellent, so does it have to be painted? Does that require the use of a brush, or is that just technique? If the rules say “oil, acrylic, watercolour, [or] mixed media” does that mean that tempera is out unless you affix a bit of cloth or wood to the canvas as well? If art is supposed to enhance our lives, why do so many people get so upset about so much of it for so many different reasons?
When is a painting not a painting? When it’s a charcoal drawing that wins the Archibald prize, of course. The Archibald is an annual controversy for one reason or another (and over at The Art Life you can find a write-up over an earlier expression of dissatisfaction on the winning portrait, as well as current commentary), but this may be putting too fine a point on it. Mr. Gulpilil is a fine actor – the world at large most likely has him in mind when “Aborigine” is brought up – and a worthy figure for portraiture, no doubt, and the work itself is excellent, so does it have to be painted? Does that require the use of a brush, or is that just technique? If the rules say “oil, acrylic, watercolour, [or] mixed media” does that mean that tempera is out unless you affix a bit of cloth or wood to the canvas as well? If art is supposed to enhance our lives, why do so many people get so upset about so much of it for so many different reasons?
Top o’ the Pops
I’ve never heard Roxy Music’s “Song for Europe” and don’t think it was actually a Eurovision entry, but I think now is a good time to find a copy of Stranded to relieve my mind.
I’ve never heard Roxy Music’s “Song for Europe” and don’t think it was actually a Eurovision entry, but I think now is a good time to find a copy of Stranded to relieve my mind.
More Oil
Back when the Portuguese pulled out of Timor and Indonesia stepped in to usurp their independence, the Australian government ultimately responded by negotiating sea borders with the Indonesians under United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which proved quite favorable, providing itself with significant undersea oil reserves. Now that Timor is out from under the Indonesian thumb, they’d like their oil back, but naturally John Howard and Alexander Downer aren’t having a bar of it. They don’t have to, either, because in 2002, Australia withdrew from the UNCLOS treaty. An interim agreement yet to be ratified would give Timor 90% of some seabed oil fields but only 20% of Greater Sunrise, the main field, leaving the rest to Australia. Royalties are estimated at around US$10 billion over the next 30 years. Since Timor has an annual budget of about US$79 million, the extra money would surely go a long way and, post-independence is desperately needed. Not that Australia couldn’t use every billion it can get its hands on, but fair’s fair and somebody’s not playing a straight wicket on this one. Recommended reading for those interested includes: James Ensor in Online Opinion and ABC Online News, but I’m sure there’s something out there in favor of screwing the Timorese out of their oil if your partisanship sails another way.
Back when the Portuguese pulled out of Timor and Indonesia stepped in to usurp their independence, the Australian government ultimately responded by negotiating sea borders with the Indonesians under United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which proved quite favorable, providing itself with significant undersea oil reserves. Now that Timor is out from under the Indonesian thumb, they’d like their oil back, but naturally John Howard and Alexander Downer aren’t having a bar of it. They don’t have to, either, because in 2002, Australia withdrew from the UNCLOS treaty. An interim agreement yet to be ratified would give Timor 90% of some seabed oil fields but only 20% of Greater Sunrise, the main field, leaving the rest to Australia. Royalties are estimated at around US$10 billion over the next 30 years. Since Timor has an annual budget of about US$79 million, the extra money would surely go a long way and, post-independence is desperately needed. Not that Australia couldn’t use every billion it can get its hands on, but fair’s fair and somebody’s not playing a straight wicket on this one. Recommended reading for those interested includes: James Ensor in Online Opinion and ABC Online News, but I’m sure there’s something out there in favor of screwing the Timorese out of their oil if your partisanship sails another way.
Progress Report
Sanctioning Syria for supporting terrorism is a long overdue step but nearly inexplicable given the current state of affairs in Iraq and Afghanistan. While the administration has up until recently very effectively distanced itself from the day-to-day actions against the population there by subcontracting the war, in the end their ethical chickens have come home to roost. Bush II opted out of the International Criminal Court, which now appears to have been a prescient step. Perhaps it was part of the pre-September 11 invasion planning in the first place. In whose interest was the overthrow of Saddam Hussein? Oil prices are rising, probably in part because the U.S. is too busy trying and failing to establish order to get the production infrastructure running properly (not to mention that the insurgents are performing some effective acts of sabotage). The Rummy and the Dummy have screwed up, but they’re unlikely to ever have to pay for what they’ve done.
Sociological Aside 1: If we keep in mind that our military has been increasingly marginalized from the rest of American society over the last 30 years and that it has been for at least that long a hidden form of welfare and thus a refuge for already marginalized segments of the population, we can begin to see the root of the Abu Ghraib torture. Our society needs serious attention, and the evidence is the numbers of armed forces members who are people having joined up because their lives would otherwise have taken them to prison as criminals.
Sociological Aside 2: Meanwhile, the insurgency increases its barbarism, throwing off any pretence of civilization prior to the Bronze Age.
Sanctioning Syria for supporting terrorism is a long overdue step but nearly inexplicable given the current state of affairs in Iraq and Afghanistan. While the administration has up until recently very effectively distanced itself from the day-to-day actions against the population there by subcontracting the war, in the end their ethical chickens have come home to roost. Bush II opted out of the International Criminal Court, which now appears to have been a prescient step. Perhaps it was part of the pre-September 11 invasion planning in the first place. In whose interest was the overthrow of Saddam Hussein? Oil prices are rising, probably in part because the U.S. is too busy trying and failing to establish order to get the production infrastructure running properly (not to mention that the insurgents are performing some effective acts of sabotage). The Rummy and the Dummy have screwed up, but they’re unlikely to ever have to pay for what they’ve done.
Sociological Aside 1: If we keep in mind that our military has been increasingly marginalized from the rest of American society over the last 30 years and that it has been for at least that long a hidden form of welfare and thus a refuge for already marginalized segments of the population, we can begin to see the root of the Abu Ghraib torture. Our society needs serious attention, and the evidence is the numbers of armed forces members who are people having joined up because their lives would otherwise have taken them to prison as criminals.
Sociological Aside 2: Meanwhile, the insurgency increases its barbarism, throwing off any pretence of civilization prior to the Bronze Age.
Commencement Speeches I’d Like to Hear
Laurie Anderson was the speaker at Cooper Union’s commencement last year. I wonder if she brought her midi with her and did the male voice? “O Superman, O Graduating Students, O Moms and Dads. . .” Beats the speaker at Villanova this year, although also an entertainer.
Laurie Anderson was the speaker at Cooper Union’s commencement last year. I wonder if she brought her midi with her and did the male voice? “O Superman, O Graduating Students, O Moms and Dads. . .” Beats the speaker at Villanova this year, although also an entertainer.
13 May 2004
Jitters
I’ve been doing it all wrong: smaller quantities in more frequent doses is preferred over that one or two large flat whites first thing in the morning. Of course, a cup of coffee after about 3 p.m. is going to keep me up late enough to watch question time or even some U.S. programming, but that’s not a circadian cycle I want to get into.
I’ve been doing it all wrong: smaller quantities in more frequent doses is preferred over that one or two large flat whites first thing in the morning. Of course, a cup of coffee after about 3 p.m. is going to keep me up late enough to watch question time or even some U.S. programming, but that’s not a circadian cycle I want to get into.
No Saturday Delivery
Australia Post workers are going on strike, but scabs will be brought in to keep operations normal. Except there’s no mention of household mail deliveries. There are a couple of things that bother me about this: Australia Post is a government franchise, so bringing in non-union workers, a disreputable business practice in the private sector, seems doubly wrong when the government does it. The focus on Express Mail services appears to favor business over the public, which I would posit stems from the same point of view regarding the practices and goals of Australia Post that lead management to hire scabs, i.e., profit over people. Post offices are globally famous as unpleasant places to work, and although that has at its root as much the career laziness engendered by civil service-sinecure regulations such organizations have been fighting for a hundred years as it does that the work is brain-numbingly dull, my idea of reform doesn’t start with how many workers I can displace, but rather with what processes can be altered to improve workplace culture and worker productivity. The outsourcing trend has benefits in profitability, and rostering the workforce into shorter time on the line will also assist in that goal, but more people working fewer hours for more competing employers doesn’t necessarily translate into greater proletarian spending power, does it? Email isn’t necessarily cheaper than a first-class stamp when you take your ISP subscription into account, etc., but will everything else available on-line, it won’t be long before they start turning post offices into internet cafes at this rate, and we’ll all have plenty of time to spend there we’d have otherwise wasted standing in queues waiting for the next clerk to stop counting the register tray contents so we can buy a stamp.
Australia Post workers are going on strike, but scabs will be brought in to keep operations normal. Except there’s no mention of household mail deliveries. There are a couple of things that bother me about this: Australia Post is a government franchise, so bringing in non-union workers, a disreputable business practice in the private sector, seems doubly wrong when the government does it. The focus on Express Mail services appears to favor business over the public, which I would posit stems from the same point of view regarding the practices and goals of Australia Post that lead management to hire scabs, i.e., profit over people. Post offices are globally famous as unpleasant places to work, and although that has at its root as much the career laziness engendered by civil service-sinecure regulations such organizations have been fighting for a hundred years as it does that the work is brain-numbingly dull, my idea of reform doesn’t start with how many workers I can displace, but rather with what processes can be altered to improve workplace culture and worker productivity. The outsourcing trend has benefits in profitability, and rostering the workforce into shorter time on the line will also assist in that goal, but more people working fewer hours for more competing employers doesn’t necessarily translate into greater proletarian spending power, does it? Email isn’t necessarily cheaper than a first-class stamp when you take your ISP subscription into account, etc., but will everything else available on-line, it won’t be long before they start turning post offices into internet cafes at this rate, and we’ll all have plenty of time to spend there we’d have otherwise wasted standing in queues waiting for the next clerk to stop counting the register tray contents so we can buy a stamp.
11 May 2004
Gone Bush
(N.b., that’s not George, but rather an Australian term for heading out into the countryside.)
We’ve just gotten back from Canberra, Australia’s “bush capital.” Canberra is one of two planned cities built as national capitals, but the only one that can be called successful. (Brasilia turned out to be too spooky for even the civil servants to adjust to by all accounts.) We went down after some careful planning and consultation with friends resident there with two specific purposes beyond socializing with our friends: see the autumn colors and visit the National Gallery’s aboriginal art collection. We were thwarted only in the latter goal, as the NGA had that part of the museum closed for renovations. Strange that they should block off such a significant part of the gallery in the height of tourist season, but there you have it. Instead, we ended up at a private gallery, where canvasses were rolled out upon the floor for our perusal. Purchase, too, in the end, which we’re both rather pleased with, even if it will be many years before there’s any thought of investment value. I just like the pictures.
The train ride to the ACT (Australian Capital Territory) is terrific, at least once you get past Campbelltown (an hour or so from Central), increasingly bushy, so that about two hours out of Canberra you’re seeing more kangaroos than cows. The train station is on the outskirts of town, about the same distance out as the airport, but saying that is deceptive, as the outskirts are almost immediately integrated into the suburbs. Kingston and Manuka were recommended as the lively districts, with fine dining and a bit of nightlife, and while the restaurants were indeed good in Kingston, they were also all located around a single city block, albeit quite a large one, still, just a stripmall, essentially. All the streets are lined with trees, and as a result of Griffin’s plan, bright with color, because the trees are foreign, deciduous varieties on the whole, with a scattering of eucalypts through some areas to maintain the natural greenery. It’s hard to say what summer and winter would be like there, but autumn is beautiful, if a little cold at night. Once in town, you travel in and out of individual city centers, each planned district having its own character, with arterial roads leading into the government district where Parliament and the various other national buildings are located along the shores of Lake Burley Griffin. I thought the walk around the lake – quite long, and I only managed a small portion thereof – lovely, and I appreciated the civic edict disallowing development along the shoreline. That’s fallen by the wayside, at least at the far end of the lake, but so long as there are no highrises and development reaches no further than the treeline, it ought not to detract from the overall prettiness.
One of our friends works in the Senate and took us on an insider’s tour of Parliament House, the grounds of which are surrounded by temporary security barriers. This is unfortunate for two reasons. First, they’re ugly. Second, Parliament House is mostly underground, the idea being that the Australian people should be able to walk upon the top of the government, symbolically demonstrating that the ministers and so worth work for them. It’s a nice thought, now spoiled somewhat. Nevertheless, the building is terrific. Like an iceberg, the majority of the building is well below the areas accessible to the public, and we learned that it’s rather labyrinthine and requires the use of golf carts for staff to get around. We skipped that part of the tour, not having brought any thread or breadcrumbs. We visited John Howard’s office (but didn’t have our spraypaint with us) and Mark Latham’s, but most of the building was inactive, with the exception of Peter Costello’s, in preparation for this week’s finalization and presentation of the budget. The principle feeling I had leaving the seat of government was a desire to pay a lot closer attention to what gets reported on the media, both stylistically and in content, primarily from a greater sense of how things work. Our friend Simon T. gave us a much better grounding in what goes on than we’d previously been able to obtain for ourselves.
Old Parliament House, where the National Portrait Gallery is housed, the National Archives, a few other civic buildings (at least from the outside), dining and excellent conversation with intellectual and informed and enjoyable persons all added up to a terrifically worthwhile trip that I would make a pilgrimage. There’s yet more to visit and learn, and I recommend it to anyone seeking a sense of Australia, particularly its national history and political inner life.
(N.b., that’s not George, but rather an Australian term for heading out into the countryside.)
We’ve just gotten back from Canberra, Australia’s “bush capital.” Canberra is one of two planned cities built as national capitals, but the only one that can be called successful. (Brasilia turned out to be too spooky for even the civil servants to adjust to by all accounts.) We went down after some careful planning and consultation with friends resident there with two specific purposes beyond socializing with our friends: see the autumn colors and visit the National Gallery’s aboriginal art collection. We were thwarted only in the latter goal, as the NGA had that part of the museum closed for renovations. Strange that they should block off such a significant part of the gallery in the height of tourist season, but there you have it. Instead, we ended up at a private gallery, where canvasses were rolled out upon the floor for our perusal. Purchase, too, in the end, which we’re both rather pleased with, even if it will be many years before there’s any thought of investment value. I just like the pictures.
The train ride to the ACT (Australian Capital Territory) is terrific, at least once you get past Campbelltown (an hour or so from Central), increasingly bushy, so that about two hours out of Canberra you’re seeing more kangaroos than cows. The train station is on the outskirts of town, about the same distance out as the airport, but saying that is deceptive, as the outskirts are almost immediately integrated into the suburbs. Kingston and Manuka were recommended as the lively districts, with fine dining and a bit of nightlife, and while the restaurants were indeed good in Kingston, they were also all located around a single city block, albeit quite a large one, still, just a stripmall, essentially. All the streets are lined with trees, and as a result of Griffin’s plan, bright with color, because the trees are foreign, deciduous varieties on the whole, with a scattering of eucalypts through some areas to maintain the natural greenery. It’s hard to say what summer and winter would be like there, but autumn is beautiful, if a little cold at night. Once in town, you travel in and out of individual city centers, each planned district having its own character, with arterial roads leading into the government district where Parliament and the various other national buildings are located along the shores of Lake Burley Griffin. I thought the walk around the lake – quite long, and I only managed a small portion thereof – lovely, and I appreciated the civic edict disallowing development along the shoreline. That’s fallen by the wayside, at least at the far end of the lake, but so long as there are no highrises and development reaches no further than the treeline, it ought not to detract from the overall prettiness.
One of our friends works in the Senate and took us on an insider’s tour of Parliament House, the grounds of which are surrounded by temporary security barriers. This is unfortunate for two reasons. First, they’re ugly. Second, Parliament House is mostly underground, the idea being that the Australian people should be able to walk upon the top of the government, symbolically demonstrating that the ministers and so worth work for them. It’s a nice thought, now spoiled somewhat. Nevertheless, the building is terrific. Like an iceberg, the majority of the building is well below the areas accessible to the public, and we learned that it’s rather labyrinthine and requires the use of golf carts for staff to get around. We skipped that part of the tour, not having brought any thread or breadcrumbs. We visited John Howard’s office (but didn’t have our spraypaint with us) and Mark Latham’s, but most of the building was inactive, with the exception of Peter Costello’s, in preparation for this week’s finalization and presentation of the budget. The principle feeling I had leaving the seat of government was a desire to pay a lot closer attention to what gets reported on the media, both stylistically and in content, primarily from a greater sense of how things work. Our friend Simon T. gave us a much better grounding in what goes on than we’d previously been able to obtain for ourselves.
Old Parliament House, where the National Portrait Gallery is housed, the National Archives, a few other civic buildings (at least from the outside), dining and excellent conversation with intellectual and informed and enjoyable persons all added up to a terrifically worthwhile trip that I would make a pilgrimage. There’s yet more to visit and learn, and I recommend it to anyone seeking a sense of Australia, particularly its national history and political inner life.
Notoriety
I made the Blogjam. That’s pretty cool.
Late Addendum: Belated thanks to Jozef for providing Blogjam6's SMH Web Diarist, David Tiley, with the referral.
I made the Blogjam. That’s pretty cool.
Late Addendum: Belated thanks to Jozef for providing Blogjam6's SMH Web Diarist, David Tiley, with the referral.
Catch-Up
(N.b., the title is not a reference to catsup or ketchup, known in Australia as “tomato sauce,” but rather to the fact that I’ve been out of the loop pretty much, otherwise occupied with lying around reading and slacking off work, the methodology for which I’ve established as looking vaguely pained and holding my lower abdomen as I arise from my reclining position on the couch, perhaps prefaced by gently removing the cat from my lap, whose weight should have been uncomfortable if there was actually anything wrong with me . . . but I digress.)
As a member of Democrats Abroad – Australia, in addition to a wealth of email touting the latest activities of the committee, sometimes there’s a bit of levity to be had, e.g., Internet Registration for the Draft. Thanks to Scott. More seriously in politics, another of the members has forwarded the URL for the Tell an American to Vote website, an informal resource to assist Democrats abroad in dealing with absentee balloting. The telling statistic of 7 million expatriates against Bush’s 2000 margin of 537 votes is worth noting. Even though the majority of those millions may be military, they aren’t all Republicans.
(N.b., the title is not a reference to catsup or ketchup, known in Australia as “tomato sauce,” but rather to the fact that I’ve been out of the loop pretty much, otherwise occupied with lying around reading and slacking off work, the methodology for which I’ve established as looking vaguely pained and holding my lower abdomen as I arise from my reclining position on the couch, perhaps prefaced by gently removing the cat from my lap, whose weight should have been uncomfortable if there was actually anything wrong with me . . . but I digress.)
As a member of Democrats Abroad – Australia, in addition to a wealth of email touting the latest activities of the committee, sometimes there’s a bit of levity to be had, e.g., Internet Registration for the Draft. Thanks to Scott. More seriously in politics, another of the members has forwarded the URL for the Tell an American to Vote website, an informal resource to assist Democrats abroad in dealing with absentee balloting. The telling statistic of 7 million expatriates against Bush’s 2000 margin of 537 votes is worth noting. Even though the majority of those millions may be military, they aren’t all Republicans.
01 May 2004
Clean, White Sheets
Just a few remarks on the state of the hospitals, before I leave off recuperation and forget this whole vestigial organ thing ever happened, not that I'll be able to until all the hair grows back, but anyway. St. Vincent's hospital is the big cheese public medical center here, getting in most of the trauma cases as well as your various dregs of society, but there weren't so many of those in evidence when we turned up a week ago this past Thursday to complain of abdominal distress. We were processed as quickly as anyone else ever is who goes to hospital via the emergency room without having turned up in an ambulance and treated kindly, efficiently, professionally by the doctors and such with whom we had contact. Not that I remember a single name or can even recall ever knowing whether any one or more of them were actually doctors. It's a little tricky because there are supervisory personnel called "registers" or "registrars" (I may have to do some research someday to discover the spelling and correct terminology), which is enough like "residents" that I have no idea what they do anyway, and I didn't get to see any even though I kept hearing about them. I think they're the top doctors on shift at any one time, with the residents and otherwise learning staff working under them. It's all beside the point, though, since really all I can mention is that the nurses (called "sisters," as in nursing sisters, I guess back from the day when hospitals were often run and staffed by religious orders) and doctors weren't just the breeze in, flip through your chart, spout some jargon and run types. They'd spend time and talk to you a bit, took an interest in you personally as well as professionally, and answered questions. They were all a bit taken aback that I was attempting to finish a Patrick White novel following my operation, but I wasn't trying too hard, as it was days before I had any real concentration back. The wards were spotless and efficiently run. Each bed had its own t.v. hung above it, which could be great so long as everyone was watching the same thing, otherwise you could end up a little taken aback by some things you thought you heard coming from the mouth of Homer Simpson: what was that he said about John Howard? Nevermind. I do think I should have said something about the accumulation of dust on the top of the telly, but it seemed crass when otherwise everything was so spotless. In any event, a week after my operation, I'm up and itchy, with no hangover from the drugs, and no pain to speak of. Since I never have to worry about my appendix again, this seems a great time to get some land out in the Blue Mountains and stock a fallout shelter, or take a job in the Antarctic, except survivalism is so passe.
Just a few remarks on the state of the hospitals, before I leave off recuperation and forget this whole vestigial organ thing ever happened, not that I'll be able to until all the hair grows back, but anyway. St. Vincent's hospital is the big cheese public medical center here, getting in most of the trauma cases as well as your various dregs of society, but there weren't so many of those in evidence when we turned up a week ago this past Thursday to complain of abdominal distress. We were processed as quickly as anyone else ever is who goes to hospital via the emergency room without having turned up in an ambulance and treated kindly, efficiently, professionally by the doctors and such with whom we had contact. Not that I remember a single name or can even recall ever knowing whether any one or more of them were actually doctors. It's a little tricky because there are supervisory personnel called "registers" or "registrars" (I may have to do some research someday to discover the spelling and correct terminology), which is enough like "residents" that I have no idea what they do anyway, and I didn't get to see any even though I kept hearing about them. I think they're the top doctors on shift at any one time, with the residents and otherwise learning staff working under them. It's all beside the point, though, since really all I can mention is that the nurses (called "sisters," as in nursing sisters, I guess back from the day when hospitals were often run and staffed by religious orders) and doctors weren't just the breeze in, flip through your chart, spout some jargon and run types. They'd spend time and talk to you a bit, took an interest in you personally as well as professionally, and answered questions. They were all a bit taken aback that I was attempting to finish a Patrick White novel following my operation, but I wasn't trying too hard, as it was days before I had any real concentration back. The wards were spotless and efficiently run. Each bed had its own t.v. hung above it, which could be great so long as everyone was watching the same thing, otherwise you could end up a little taken aback by some things you thought you heard coming from the mouth of Homer Simpson: what was that he said about John Howard? Nevermind. I do think I should have said something about the accumulation of dust on the top of the telly, but it seemed crass when otherwise everything was so spotless. In any event, a week after my operation, I'm up and itchy, with no hangover from the drugs, and no pain to speak of. Since I never have to worry about my appendix again, this seems a great time to get some land out in the Blue Mountains and stock a fallout shelter, or take a job in the Antarctic, except survivalism is so passe.
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