Mr Trivia's Tract

Stationary Travelator Part 2

2012-01-29T05:57:00.005+08:00

You'll recall that three weeks ago we brought you the tale of the Stationary Travelator at Garden City, Booragoon. And sure, the moving tale of a non-moving incline is not everyone's idea of a story, but the actual importance of the items reported in this 'blog is more or less given away by the title Mr Trivia's Tract. No one is going to accuse us of false advertising.

I'm sure you can read the above sign, but for those of you who already have "tl:dr" flashed up in your cartoon eyeballs, here's the gist. It will take 26 weeks to manufacture a new travelator. Half a year, people. You and your Significant Other can get to work on a conceiving a child this afternoon and be well into the second trimester before Garden City finishes its new people mover. You'll be deciding whether the names Jaydren, Baylinn and Robespierre are too posh or bogan for the new baby, before a single shopper in Melville district is moving up or down on those steely, glacial ramps again. (By the way all three of those names are now considered unisex, so go nuts).

In fact if this project keeps not going the way it has, you and l'il Kadmium will be needing to walk around the long way to get her or his first pair of Converse All Star Toddlers from Foot Locker.

Bed Linen Faux Pas

2012-01-24T05:22:00.001+08:00

I was talking with friends while purchasing bed linen. Inexpensive linen. Kmart’s Homebrand. My attention wasn’t fully on the task at hand. I thought I had bought a sober black and grey set. Many of you are shuddering now, but I have no problem with the idea of living in a house of black, white and stainless steel surfaces. Reflective, metallic surfaces, glass and recessed–lights – the future as seen from 1979 is what I'm shooting for. And as long as I had a chromed robot called Vacxy to clean those surfaces, I would be as happy as Larry. Larry Fortensky.

It wasn’t until I prewashed the linen that I realised the 30% drop off in my attention had led me to choose a rather more ‘shiny’ bed set than I had anticipated. Shiny metal and glass–good. Shiny quilt cover–bad.

As you can see in the photograph, there’s a circular “motif” on the pillow cover. The fake satin look of the quilt cover is unnecessarily garish. It might be okay for costuming an Earth, Wind and Fire tribute band, but restful, it is not. I can’t recall what Homebrand calls this design triumph, but I’m dubbing it Spirograph at the Roller Disco.

Brief Signage Rant

2012-01-17T17:10:00.004+08:00

Thankfully they haven't offended me by suggesting that this checkout was somehow barred to me. My purchase experience hasn't been negativized with the harsh and ugly "Checkout Closed" signs they used back in the dark ages. The Coles brand is a safe space where a sign informs me that should I allow for the possibility, there are others, somewhere, who are ready to take care of my shopping needs.

I like this about as much as a letter from my bank that tells me how much better off I will be when they change a system that was working fine for me, into something that will work better for them, usually at my expense.

Doublespeak is Dooubleplusgood!

Generic Workplace Tips Article

2012-01-12T14:16:00.003+08:00

Occasionally I read articles that are collections of workplace tips. Perhaps 5 percent of these articles offer useful material, the remainder are poorly researched, use questionable photgraphic material and are filled with bleedin’ obvious advice that can only be useful to those who have never set foot in a workplace. (A 2005 MIT study reveals that of this group 75% will become undergraduate filmmakers of whom 95% will go on to make a short film about the soul-destroying nature of the workplace.)

With this in mind, I determined it was time for me to write my own poorly researched, generic workplace tips. So here goes.

5 Generic Workplace Tips

1. Dress Four Success

A 2007 study commissioned by the Australasian Institute of Fashion Design reveals that four is the correct number of items of apparel one should wear in an office workplace. This quartet should include some form of upper body covering, lower body covering and one or two items of underwear.

Obviously there is some give and take in this calculation. If you are adequately covered (ie no more than 10% total skin area visible) with just three items, then you may wish to make your fourth item a fascinator or some other form of natty chapeau. Gentlemen, please note that a trucker’s hat is not only unbearably passé but is unacceptable in any workplace that isn’t articulated and riding on 18 wheels.

2. Ill Communication

In his seminal 2005 work Incentovation: The Life and Death Of American Success, Peter F Mulroney recounts the tale of an CFO who insisted on addressing his colleagues with “What up, bitches?” This upset many of his co-workers and there was talk of a class action until happily the CFO died in an ultralight aircraft accident in Maine.

The most appropriate form of address in the workplace is “Hello,” this may be followed by the line: “Is it me you're looking for?” if one is riffing on the classic 1984 Lionel Richie hit song. If one isn’t doing this, the name of your co-worker is the next best choice.

3. Gleaming the Cube

Personalising one’s space is important. Especially if your space is a cubicle. Even the best one of these is little more than a reminder that you are some kind of corporate battery hen laying the caged eggs of commerce for The Man (see Soul-Destroying Workplaces in Undergraduate Filmmaking, Polemic Press, 1999).

Many of us like to bring a photograph from home. A framed portrait of your Significant Other and your children is a great addition to your space. After all, you are, in part, working your arse off in this miserable dump, for them. A portrait of your extra-marital shag is most inappropriate. It’s fun to brag, but a purse or wallet sized photograph is the way to go here. If you’re a member of Generation Y you’ll keep this item on your smartphone.

4. Taking Credit

If you are one of those people who aren’t good at taking credit for your own efforts, now is the time to start. Think of yourself as a mini-brand, “Me Works”. You need to start to think like someone in marketing and get the word out. If you are already someone in marketing and have this problem, you need to start thinking like someone else. And look for a new job.

Make sure your boss or team leader knows what Me Works has achieved. Send that person a weekly email bullet-pointing your successes. Start by referring to the team’s overall success and then spend the rest of the time focusing on you. Note: never actually take credit for someone else’s work unless you know categorically you won’t get found out.

5. Moving On

How do you know when it’s time to leave your present employment? Discovering all your stuff in a cardboard box in a loading dock is a good sign. More than two people greeting you with, “Are you still here?” is another. But sometimes it becomes necessary to move on to greener pastures before one has burnt all one’s bridges.

A 2003 study from the MacDonald’s Brain and Cognitive Science Division, shows that leaving a job is the third most stressful thing one can do. (Shopping at IKEA in the week before Christmas and knowing one is targeted for death by a US military Predator drone were first and second.) But when you have to leave, the study shows the best way to achieve this is to tell no one. Come into work on your final Friday. Don’t return to your desk after lunch. Boom! Done…

So there you have it. I hope you…Boom! Done…

Phil Jeng Kane

The Wheels of Perth City

2012-01-10T08:04:00.002+08:00

I am confident that the good folk over at The Worst of Perth will have looked into this, but I couldn't find a mention of this over there. Not that I searched for more than a couple of minutes; their site is dense with Perthcentric gold. Have a look some time.

Anyhow, when I was a kid, Transperth–then the Metropolitan Transport Trust–ran a campaign encouraging Perthites to take the bus. There was a jaunty tune which sadly I cannot reproduce here and a sprightly lyric which went something like this:

We are the wheels of Perth City
Leave the driving to us
We are the Wheels of Perth
(Take it easy)
Come on and take the bus!

There was even a mascot for all of this, an actual MTT bus driver nicknamed "Jimmy". This is something like thirty years ago, but my memory has him as John Denver looking fellow. And if you don't know who the late John Denver was - ask your grandfather.

I believe Jimmy's brief was to be friendly; being a child at this time, I found the notion of a friendly bus driver fairly unlikely, but the people of Perth took to the whole thing like high school kids to the back section of a bendy bus.

Jimmy was a Perthonality for a time. He wasn't Luigi Savadamoni big, but he had his fifteen minutes. And if you weren't around for that, then you've missed out. These days we have the The Lottery West "catching a falling star" kid, but he simply doesn't have the charisma of a middle-aged man in green shorts and walk socks giving the people of Perth a cheery thumbs up.

Phil Jeng Kane

Stationary Travelator Part 1

2012-01-09T16:23:00.006+08:00

Garden City's travelator has been broken for weeks. They've even had a nice sign made. The Travelator is on an incline, so it's like a lazy escalator. And of course a stationary travelator is a shiny metallic grooved ramp.

Unsung Hughes

2012-01-06T04:03:00.001+08:00

Recently, a Facebook friend described herself as an 80s kid. This made my brain blink for a moment because I have always thought of myself as such. However, in my case it means I was teenager during the 1980s, rather than being born during this turbulently day-glo era. So, I'm not going to get into an ownership tussle. If someone wants to claim a decade in which they were a embryo, so be it. Based on that reasoning, I claim Woodstock and the Moon Landing.

But back to the 1980s. No one better defined the decade for teenagers (the other 80s kids) than American filmmaker the late John Hughes. He of SIXTEEN CANDLES (1984), THE BREAKFAST CLUB (1985) FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF (1986) and PRETTY IN PINK (1986). He also made more adult oriented fare such as TRAINS PLANES AND AUTOMOBILES (1987) however somewhere along the line he became the go-to guy for family films like HOME ALONE (1990) and DENNIS THE MENACE (1993). He stopped directing after CURLY SUE in 1991, but wrote numerous screenplays.

Why did we youngsters like Hughes? Well, let's face it, there was a certain amount of outrageous pandering to the audience. "All adults are work obsessed androids who only care about enforcing the rules and making you do what they tell you to do." This was more or less the unsubtle picture of adult life that he drew. But compared to what had passed for teen rom-com previously, Hughes captured a certain truth and boy was he good at weaving in those pop songs into zany montages.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I just discovered the trailer to CAREER OPPORTUNITIES (1991). It was written and produced by Hughes and is presented in this promo as though he directed it, but like 16 CANDLES, which is also though of as a Hughes film, this was directed by another.

But could it be more Hughesian? A zany off-beat hero who has yet to find himself. A hot heiress who wakes up in a Target after hours. The very same Target where our hero is a trainee janitor! They get to play around with all the merch and confess their insecurities. Probably they discover their respective parents screwed them up and also get to utter memorable dialogue. Not "necessarily "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?" but along those lines. And then BOOM! they get held up by comedy bandits.

I'm going to spend the next couple of days tracking down this quasi John Hughes movie and see why it rates a mere 5.8 stars on IMDB. I can't say why it didn't set the world on fire in 1991. Possibly because Hughes's time as Monarch of the Teens was up. Possibly because he didn't direct this. And let's face it, Frank Whaley and Jennifer Connelly are about as unconvincing a match up as Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby in HIGH SOCIETY (1956). Still I'm hoping to find plenty of signature Hughesian comedy, emotional revelation and carefully placed pop hits of the era.

I'll keep you posted.

PJK

P.S. I have since seen this and now fully understand the low rating. It is a terrible film. Frank Whalley is essentially miscast in a role that is part-Ducky, part-Ferris and wholly annoying. His shtick gets old very fast indeed. Jennifer Connelly was cast for her high level of kevorka and yet is sufficient in her role. She at least seems like a character and not a yammering caricature like Whalley. Unfortunately, her role is undermined by some of the director's framing and composition choices which are frankly exploitative. This flick is entirely missable unless you're some kind of film obsessive or Hughes completist.

Check it! I'm losing at Settlers of Catan

2012-01-01T22:21:00.001+08:00

Things I Learnt This Christmas

2011-12-28T14:30:00.002+08:00

So here are some loosely assembled thoughts I have had and observations I made over this Yuletide season, my friends.

I like Christmas. I’m an Atheist, but I still enjoy the celebration. (Stay your keyboards, all those who would explain that Christmas was originally a pagan festival that Christians appropriated. Fine. And while we’re at it, English was a very different language before the Norman Conquest. And Neanderthals were once more successful than Homo Sapiens. There’s even evidence to suggest they invented line dancing to while away the cold nights of the Ice Age.)

On the evening before Christmas Eve, I went up to the very unbusy Garden City, Booragoon, to buy a few things. I ran into several people I knew through my last job. One was a friend who was employed by the City of Perth to be one of the Santa Clauses to ride The Santa Train. Whether you were on The Joondalup line, the Armadale line or out at Mandurah; if you were on the train in the fortnight before Christmas, you could meet Santa.

My friend, the part-time Father Christmas, has two kids, the oldest, a son, is 11 and the youngest, a daughter, is 5. I asked how he had dealt with keeping his identity secret from her. He said in previous years that whenever the job was mentioned in front his daughter, the codename he and his wife would use was “Fat X”. Because there was simply too much Kris Kringling going on this year, with the suit having to be hung out frequently when it was cleaned, they decided to explain to their daughter that there are some people who have to dress up as Santa, as a job, during Christmas. “So you blew the whistle on yourself,” I said, “Did she get it?” “Not really,” he said.

I asked how he was received on the train. He said that he would shake hands with anyone–children or adults–and that some adults were very awkward about his being there and would refuse to make eye contact. One guy did shake his hand, but said, “This isn’t a hand, it’s a fist.” Weird!

***********

On Christmas Eve, the plan was to have dinner with friends. One of my tasks was to supply some Christmas music, so over several days I previewed as many secular Yuletide beats as possible. The anomaly of my Godless world is that I love Christmas carols which are–unsurprisingly–mostly religious in nature. Your modern, non-religious Christmas songs all pretty much bite; seriously, White Christmas is terrible no matter who sings it (obviously I don’t mean you Nat King Cole, you could sing the instruction booklet from an Ikea bunk bed and make it swing). O Come All Ye Faithful is my favourite. When the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings Carol of the Bells et al. it is awe-inspiring and gives one a glimpse at the Great Mystery. (Sounding a little Agnosticky here, I know).

But as I found out in my aforementioned former job, whenever I played one of my CDs of choirs singing carols, the response was overwhelmingly negative. And yes, it was at Christmas. “Stop playing those damned carols” was a sentence uttered on more than one occasion. So I knew better than to dig up any of those. My selection was from the “better” Christmas songs (so the pervy I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus was out) and the end result was a tuneful Christmas cake of tasteful jazz lite hits frosted with some lite rock standards. It was the kind of playlist one might hear in your better municipal waiting rooms.

A friend explained to me that this category of easy-listening Yule sounds is dominated by two people; Mariah Carey is the Queen of Christmas and Michael Bublé is the King. Mariah’s Merry Christmas album was recorded in 1994 and has sold 15 million copies. Just let that sink in. It’s the biggest selling Christmas album ever. A little known side effect of hearing her All I Want For Christmas Is You less than half a dozen times in 24 hours, is that you’ll play it over and over in your head hundreds of times for the next three days. Trust me on this.

***********

Other random things I learnt in the last few days.

You can build a Jenga Tower at least 35 rows high.
There is such a thing as too much ham.
WHO’S THE BOSS is a terrible, terrible show.
When people aren’t at work, their Facebook posts get even weirder.
There is no such thing as too many prawns.
It’s worth buying bed linen at the Boxing Day sales.
THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR is a fine gloomy Christmas film

And speaking of films. During the day of the 24th, I channel-flicked and ended up on IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE the 1946 Frank Capra classic. It was just as George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) was going to college after putting it off to work in the family’s Building and Loan business. And despite having seen the film a dozen times and even owing a DVD copy, I watched it from there until the rousing end when George discovers because he has friends, he is the richest man in the town.

So I learnt that I still feel teary at the end of a corny old movie made 65 years ago and I’m okay with that.

Season’s Greetings

Phil Jeng Kane

Tumblr Fail

2011-12-20T07:03:00.000+08:00

I've been trying to create some of those things you see on Tumblr and elsewhere on the Web where someone has gets a photograph and puts some beautiful and moving text to the image and together they say a really powerful and moving thing, that will then go viral with 16 year old hipsters. But it's harder than it looks. Here are my first three attempts. And sadly they're not even close.

PJK

Visceral and Raw

2011-12-14T02:47:00.000+08:00

I was reading a story about the making of the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 launch video (released in November 2011) last night and was struck by the article's gushing tone and high level of corporate BS. The story was in FAST COMPANY a trade site for advertising, so really, what did I expect?

This was the set up:

The launch campaign centers on a 90-second trailer based on the veteran/newbie premise, starring Sam Worthington and Jonah Hill and directed by Peter Berg. The film begins with Hill (Get Him to The Greek, Superbad, Moneyball) bumbling through a burned-out New York war zone, with Worthington (Avatar, Clash of the Titans) as the battle-hardened foil.

Inoffensive enough, but I was particularly taken by these paragraphs:

Berg, whose action credits include Hancock, The Kingdom, and the upcoming Battleship, was the immediate choice for director, and he joined the production before the actors came on board. “We selected him first and foremost for his way of telling stories--his action is visceral and raw. We were dealing with very in-depth understanding of weapons and explosions. He’s comfortable with all of that. He’s also great with talent--that was icing.”

After going through gun training, Hill handled the action sequences like a pro, says Cole. "He had to bring the moments of levity to it; it’s tough to get that right tonally while there’s smoke and things blowing up around you.”

Yeah, there's a whole bunch of smoke here and guess where they're blowing it?

This style of reporting on movie-making has been a standard in "entertainment journalism" for the last thirty years. It's a rigid formula that all but cancels out any extraneous non-awesome, off-brand blabber; the director has vision; the cast is amazing; the crew is the most professional ever assembled. But seriously, they're bigging up the fact that Jonah Hill learnt how to handle action and fight choreography on the green-screen set of the 90 second trailer for the latest iteration of Call Of Duty?

The last time I experienced this feeling was watching Baz Luhrmann explain the story behind the making of his 2004 Chanel No. 5 commercial with Nicole Kidman and Rodrigo Santoro

"She finds herself in this very serene place. She feels she has has escaped from the responsibility–from the mythical fortress of the metropolis we see in the distance, beyond this huge bridge..."

Mr Trivia

Retrophonic

2011-12-07T00:02:00.003+08:00

Zeitgeisters,

There's something like two week's of music on this computer. I can't do anything with such an absurd profusion of choices. Unlike most of you–who seem to be more than ready to exit this corporeal plane for some kind of Johnny Mnemonic or Tron existence where you are nowt but electrons dancing amongst the light particles–I come from the 1980s.

I thought the audio cassette was the height of sound reproduction and convenience. An album was somewhere around 12 songs lasting about 40 minutes that one had to turn over after the end of side 1 in order to facilitate the listening of side 2.

Truth be told, I don't think I'm quite over the introduction of that seductive, mirrored coaster, the Compact Disc. But you're over it, aren't you, my friend? Even as we speak, you're downloading millions upon millions of MP3s a.k.a The Western World's Compleat Pop Music Back Catalogue (1900-2011)–minus Rod Stewart Destroys The Great American Songbook (Volumes I-V).

For the sake of my sanity and to solve this First World problem, I must travel in the opposite direction. My need is for a petite and manageable musical experience, so I have just downloaded a paltry 743 songs from the 'puter and onto my 5th Generation iPod Classic from 2005. I've docked the 'pod into some portable speakers and I am currently listening to "Dinner Jacket" from They Might Be Giants 1992 album Apollo 18.

Yeah, album. I keep using that archaic terminology. A collection of songs speciously linked and sold to music lovers in an attractive package with liner notes. Don't worry Woman or Man of the Future, Today, there isn't a quiz at the end of this post, you don't need to remember any of this cultural detritus, this minutiae of yesteryear.

That's my job.

Mr Trivia
(Just a guy made of dots and lines...)

Never Go Against The Family

2011-12-02T00:07:00.002+08:00

Every now and then I like to Google Clip Art with various subject titles in mind. This evening I Googled the word "family" and found these two gems.

Sure the Silhouette Family look a little retro. They're out for a stroll all holding hands–which people used to do before the progressives and the communists and Dr Benjamin Spock introduced doubt and perversion into the Western Mind. And don't get me started on Jung and/or Freud. So sure, some of you will see a group of peaceful folk, hands linked and you'll want to douse them with pepper spray a la Lietenant John Pike (Pepper Spray Cop), but you're just all riled up and twisted by crazy modern values. Or hopped up on goof balls. Whatevs.

The Silhouettes are decent God-Fearing folk who are happy that their money is in a savings account with a 9 per cent interest rate. Yeah - THEY HAVE SAVINGS. Sure they're freaks. But perhaps not so much as these next folk.

Meet the Traced-Overs. Flippin' 'eck. Bloody Nora. That boy on the left is as creepy as anything out of the movie Polar Express. The Robert Zemeckis masterpiece that I suspect is funded by Atheists. Have you seen the film? Clearly the Polar Express weirdos live in a Godless, Santa-less Universe. "But Mr Trivia," I hear you say, "Santa is in Polar Express." Yeah - Zombie Santa. Undead Father Christmas. Animated Korpse Kringel.

And the boy in the above picture is every bit as wrong as any o' that. And what about his sister? A cross between a Cabbage Patch Kid and a Zapf Baby Born? Horrifying.

But let none of this discourage your using more Clip Art in the future. My greatest concern is that some whiz kid in Zagreb or Kuala Lumpur will come up with some algorithmic app tech thingy that will be able to make excellent clip art 100% of the time. Good corporate imaging that no one can sneer at or write snarky blog posts about. And wouldn't we be all the poorer if that happened?

Great Writers Text Their Work

2011-11-26T10:37:00.002+08:00

Looking across the street at the poor wretches at Risely Street Dome whilst we sup at C-15. Not that there's anything wrong with Dome and their Chicken and Avocado toastie. But you get a better class of Bogan over this side of Risely. Over at Table 12 there's a nitwit wearing his cap inside at the table. He's also wearing a singlet to show off his massive gym-built arms. Faux tribal tattoo. Dude has two sets of shoulders. He's ignoring his girlfriend currently and texting or perhaps blogging like I am.

I imagine his blog is called Compassionate Fitness. He has just written the following: "Some dude in the corner who looks like the Comic Store Guy from The Simpsons, keeps looking over here and then typing on his phone. I don't think he's looking at Bec. If only he knew that beneath my awesome, ripped exterior was a poet looking for a word to finish a couplet about the beautiful soul that puppies possess. Also a word that rhymes with verisimilitude and contains the very same."

Fitness Dude looks up from his phone and notes how half the people in the cafe are either speaking with someone on their mobiles or tapping away on their smartphones or iPads. "Why can't we just be with the one we are with? This is today's personal mantra. Gonna do 100 reps of the mantra in the next five minutes while I watch the way the sunlight cascades off Bec's amazing chestnut locks."

At least that's what I think Fitness Dude over at Table 12 is up to.

Near-Death Cowboy's Last Thought #02

2011-11-25T06:03:00.001+08:00

Peppered

2011-11-24T12:01:00.001+08:00

Most of you will have seen the images of police lieutenant John Pike pepper spraying seated protestors at an Occupy demonstration at the University of California Davis last week. It has stirred up controversy and commentary because of the perceived level of disregard Pike showed towards non-violent demonstrators. Note also those sprayed were middle-class American kids who have high expectations of their nation's legal and political system. They believe in things like due process, innocent until proven guilty and The Constitution.

The image has also become the basis of a multitude of photoshopped, mashed-up gags. Yep, it's a meme now and it's gone viral. With a handful of exceptions most of the examples I see when Google-searching "Pepper Spray Cop" seem to be rely on random juxtapositional humor rather than any actual wit. Who ever mashed-up Pepper Spray Cop with Crying Dawson deserves kudos for cross-pollinating a new meme with a very old one, but most of what's out there seems to be pointless; Pepper Spray Cop in a Charlie Brown cartoon, Pepper Spray Cop in the hold of the slave ship in Ben Hur and Pepper Spray Cop on the cover of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Worse still is the bleeding obvious Pepper Spray Cop at Iwo Jima and even Pepper Spray Cop sprays the Mona Lisa. The last one fails to raise even an enigmatic half-smile.

No doubt the week ahead will bring us Pepper Spray Cop vs the Nevermind album cover, Pepper Spray Cop vs the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Pepper Spray Cop vs The Shawshank Redemption. I hope this flow of dross will be relieved by the occasional flash of gold like Pepper Spray Cop at the signing of the Declaration of Independence (above).

Mr Trivia

Beverage Review (17/11/11)

2011-11-17T17:00:00.000+08:00

Salia Cafe, at the corner of Point and Adelaide Streets, Fremantle. The Flat White cost $3.80 and I rated it a (4/5). The chocolate biscuit thingy probably had a proper name but when I asked the guy behind the counter what the chocolate thing was, he said - "It's a biscuit". In Western Australian pop culture parlance,"They're not fancy, but they're cheap," is a good way to describe the Salia. My caffeine buddy rated his hot chocolate as "very good".

That end of Freo has needed some decent coffee for some time. Huzzah!

Lem-O-Saver!

2011-11-15T17:50:00.001+08:00

The only change I can think of that could have improved this product is a tweak in the name - Lemon Saviour. I think it has connotations of mystic power that the current name lacks. Anyhow, thanks for stocking this Woolworth's - you're my favourite half of the mighty food retailing duopoly that holds Australia to ransom! I find Coles even less attractive than ex-Howard-era minister Peter Reith. And that's saying something.

Anyhow peeps, Lem-O-Saver.It's out there for 5 bucks! And you can amuse your household by announcing you've bought a strap-on for your fridge.

Near Death Cowboy #01

2011-11-14T02:32:00.001+08:00

Experts point out how much "thinner" Perth White Pages is looking. Cause for alarm?

2011-11-11T08:38:00.000+08:00

The new Perth White Pages telephone directory has arrived at our homes and it appears to have been "Jenny Craig'd" by the technological gewgaw known as Tha Internet. The declaration on the cover "It's How We Connect" would appear to be far from true. Perth is a million plus city. So we're not huge, but just a few years ago it would have been difficult for a regular-sized adult to hold both volumes of the book in one hand.

We look forward to future editions of the White Pages printed in ever so cute A6 or A7 sized editions that we can store in our cellphone covers.

Leaning Tower with 340g Mayonnaise for Scale

2011-11-06T18:58:00.004+08:00

This was given to me by a friend who was trying to dekitsch his life as he ended one business and embarked upon another. (Thank you, Mr Axten).

What I like about it is the awkward size of the objet d'art. It takes up considerable shelf space particularly in terms of its height. It isn't authentically modeled in detail nor in colour. It's a poor attempt in every way, but I like it.

Could I part with it? If THE ANTIQUES ROADSHOW were to inform me that it was a rare piece worth 1000 of your English quid, I'd probably say, "no, it has too much sentimental value" and then regret it immediately. Then I would attempt to assuage my feelings of sheer idiocy by securing Fiona Bruce's autograph.

I'm a well-calibrated apparatus when it comes to feeling regret about inconsequentials. I 'sweat the small stuff' constantly. It's the big ticket items that I react to with numbness and obliviousness. And no, I'm not referring to the emotional conflict I'd feel were I to contemplate selling a 1:1 scale model of another famous landmark like say, The Sydney Opera House or Clancy's Fish Pub in Fremantle.

But that's a blogpost for another day, eh Zeitgeisters?

PJK

HEARTFELT TRIBUTE TO CHOGM 2011

2011-10-26T03:23:00.001+08:00

Wherever you go right now in the clean minitropolis of Perth, Western Australia, it's beginning to feel a lot like CHOGM. The Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting has rolled into town. It hasn't started officially, but like the precursors of another well-loved festival–the Yuletide tinsel and fruit mince pies already in Coles and Woolworths–there are early signs that a great event in about to explode on our West Coast Zeitgeist.

There is a literal sign on the city's Esplanade. In large letters it spells out PERTH. It is scaled to be viewable from the new Kings Park Reception Centre. This labelling will be particularly helpful for international visitors for whom Perth is but one stopover among many.

Hipsters have already derided the PERTH sign for its naffness.That it feels like a visual pinch from the famous Hollywood sign has been a common theme. The perceived try-harness of this installation; its corporate or municipal utility and lack of flair are common threads of the criticism. I think this misses the point, somewhat. The real problem is the sound of the word. Perth. Maybe it has more music about it when rendered in its original Scottish brogue, but as a flat, dry Aussie-accented utterance it wants for poetry.

For mine, Perth might be more effectively named Jayden or perhaps Brant. Either of these manifested in unfeasibly large lettering visible from a high vantage point would give our city a zing and sizzle the original whitefella name lacks.

The highlight of this CHOGM fest for me and other Perthites will be the opportunity to glimpse Elizabeth Windsor, our own dear Queen, passing by at speed in a motorcade with her gaffe-prone consort, the somewhat racist Duke of Edinburgh, at her side. We, loyal subjects to a person, will be watching in a colonial trance whilst chowing down on two dollar sausages BBQ'd and sold for charity.

This takes a favourite weekend activity in our city, sneaking in a snag on a trip to a Bunnings hardware megastore and adds to it a sense of pageantry and history. As good as it is to descend on a Bunnings in search of dynabolts, rawl plugs and the perfect handles for the bathroom vanity, it rarely leads to the opportunity to glimpse a monarch of any kind, much less our head of state and the Church of England.

As for the talk fest that involves the 50 plus heads of government that form the Commonwealth of Nations formerly the British Commonwealth formerly The British Empire, the less said the better. Is it like a rather awkward school reunion where all parties discover how far they've grown apart? Probably not.

Roll on CHOGM, 2011
Mr Trivia

Space Ziering

2011-10-23T10:25:00.001+08:00

Why this video now? Because Ian Ziering of the original 90210 cast has simply been overlooked and ignored by popular culturalists.I am simply attempting to restore some much-needed balance. Do I see myself doing something similar–a video corrective–for Brian Austin Green, Tori Spelling or Shannen Doherty? No. I leave these good works for others. Ian Ziering had something special about him in his twinkly-eyed, crinkly-haired way. There was something about him that seemed to bridge the Chaos and Cosmos. Please enjoy my humble tribute to an even humbler artist.Mr Trivia

Nosh Review: 3/10/2011

2011-10-03T13:25:00.000+08:00

C-15 Cafe, Risely Street, Applecross.
Works Burger $22.00.
(3.5/5)

Yep, I know it's quite the super fat, carbs and protein upload. Includes pineapple AND beetroot. Had to share my chips with @objectman while he read a PC WORLD review of the new Kindle Fire on his iPad 1 (See: Amazon Kindle Fire First Impressions: Solid but Limited).

I chose to wash me burger down with a green tea. Gotta say, although the nosh was good-ish, the service was 4/5 - which is an improvement for this popular Applecross cafe.

I am now ready to watch THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND (1983) over at @philjengkane"s holo deck. It was Peckinpah's last film apparently. Looking forward to seeing Craig T, Nelson's porn mo and Meg Foster's alien blue eyes.

A Dummy Dreams

2011-09-27T14:42:00.000+08:00

Hola Guys,

Mister Trivia has invited me to write on his blog again ¬(in lieu of last week’s salary, but the less said about this, the better - cheap bastard). He said I could choose any topic that interested me, so I have chosen the Realm of Dreams.

You may ask if a Ventriloquial Facilitator (my actual job title) dreams and of course the answer is “Hells, yeah!” Nerds will recall the movie 2010 made back in 1984 which was the sequel of 2001 made back in 1968 (you’re getting this, right?). In it, the SAL 9000, the next model on from the redesigned HAL 9000 asks some science nerd (Dr Chandra) about what will happen when she (the SAL 9000) is switched off. If memory serves, some kind of compute error is preventing Chandra from exiting Internet Explorer. It's just frozen there onscreen. He is embarrassed his colleagues will arrive and he'll have to explain why he is on Ebay bidding for a dozen “dental gags”. So the Doc is about to power down the SAL 9000 when this exchange takes place:

SAL-9000: Will I dream?
Dr. Chandra: Of course you will. All intelligent beings dream. Nobody knows why.

In a number of university tests, my IQ mostly clocks in at a wopping 210, although on one occasion I tested a mere 190. Pro-tip, don’t embark on one of these IQ Test after watching Channel 10’s THE RENOVATORS.

So like most intelligent beings, I dream every night. My dreams are usually about my suddenly becoming a real boy, then becoming a contestant on SURVIVOR and owning those weak bastards who are my so-called opponents. Owning them hard. I have no heart, so I would be pitiless in outwitting and outlasting the pitiful hu-mans against whom I would be playing. At this point, pedants amongst my fans may wish to point out that in this scenario, I too would be a hu-man. But I would have had no time to develop the weaknesses of hu-man emotion; conscience and empathy are concepts that can only evolve through interaction with other human beings. Andrew Bolt is the exception to this rule.

Sometimes I dream about appearing on Liz Hurley's doorstep and saying I'm Shane Warne's illegitimate son. Or I dream of creating a navy blue marshmallow. Or I dream of winning the Tour De France on a unicycle. More whimsically, I dream of selling 2Dayfm's Kyle and Jackie O for scientific experiments.

Some might say I am conflating day-dreams with the type of dreaming one does whilst slumbering. However, these two categories of dream can mesh. One recurring dream I've had most weeks since 1993 was that I was the fourth member of Aussie band The Sharp. Ever since their mega hit Talking Sly hit the airwaves, I have dreamt day and night I could join this savvy, bunch of musical hipsters.

Dreams are important, my children.

Yours Sincerely,
Porter Thorrity

Diacritic over the 'o' Facebook - really?

2011-09-26T16:22:00.001+08:00

Nosh Review (25/9/11)

2011-09-25T13:13:00.000+08:00

The Merchant, Risely Street. Carrot Cake $4.50; EBT $4.50 - (2.5/5)
However 5/5 for playing Frank Sinatra's cover of "The Look of Love" Nice.

TAFFY #02

2011-09-25T11:09:00.001+08:00

Taffy #01

2011-09-23T21:23:00.000+08:00

Public Domain Cartoon Characters

2011-09-22T02:48:00.002+08:00

Just because something is in the public domain doesn't mean it is any less worthwhile than those things in private hands. Even as we speak the Internet is destroying the notion of copyright. Even as we speak the Internet is smashing the idea of intellectual property. Even as we speak the Internet is making wealth and actual property ownership an obsolete concept.

Ha! Kidding. Of course the Internet has little to no effect on the incredibly rich and powerful. But we can dream our petty envious dreams eh, sisters and brothers!

Which brings us smoothly to this seasons fantastic new Public Domain Cartoon Characters. They're nearly as good as the licensed, syndicated, trademarked and registered kind. Enjoy.

Baine Marie Moments: Cream Corn & Cheese Toasty

2011-09-20T16:11:00.001+08:00

In the future, fake tan will mean 'Early 21st Century'

2011-09-20T10:36:00.000+08:00

For some unknown reason, this very evenly toned brown (and sometimes orange) is still fashionable in 2011. There's some kind of mass delusion that this looks good.

Other mass delusions from the past include The Mullet, the music of LIVE and the idea that Lawrence Leung is a television personality.

I maintain that the 'noughties and the following years will be known in retrospect as The Bronzer Age.

Linked Invitation Error

2011-09-13T09:18:00.000+08:00

Greetings All,

This morning I accidentally sent a Linked In invitation to all of my gmail contacts. My apologies. It was never my intention to spam you all. If you wish to accept that invitation please do. By the same token, please feel free to turn it down.

As a bonus (I'm calling it that) I blogged about my error on the Mr Trivia site. He also received a Linked In Invitation from me. (See Below)

Thank you for your patience.

Regards,
Phil Jeng Kane

Missing Links

2011-09-13T07:13:00.002+08:00

If you've somehow become sucked into this 'blog through a Linked In post that came through this morning, my apologies. My erstwhile frenemy, Phil Jeng Kane, hit the wrong tickbox and somehow an invitation became a post.

Modern Life, eh? Did the Cro Mags or Paleolithics have this problem? Did Neanderthals ever front at some kind of ritual gathering only to discover that the burning message tree in the valley below was not, in fact, meant for their inbox? Then lots of awkward standing around with one tribe wondering if it should offer these interlopers a haunch of their roast mastadon (pre-history fans send your haughty emails now).

During the Middle Ages, did The Pope ever receive a hastily scrawled vellum saying something like:

"Look, if you get a parchment from me and the rest of the monks at the Order of St Benedict referring to you in less than glowing terms Your Holiness, then it wasn't actually meant for you - we were having a laugh with the Heironymites of the Observance. It was just a bit of fun between us lads."

Catholic scholars please send your dismissive emails now.

In the First World War did anyone ever send a carrier pigeon with the message: "LUNCH THWARTED OSLO!" only to follow it minutes later with another pigeon and another message: "We meant - LAUNCH THE ATTACK 0500! Damn Autocorrect - LOL!" (World War I historians–you know the drill).

We are in the process of devising many different and dazzling methods of communications every day. And by "we" I mean geeks who are pulling down huge salaries. Me, I'm just some guy who bitches about the lameness of Google Plus and makes jokes about Twitter.

All I'm saying is - think before you tick that box on a site or application that you are only partially savvy with. Particularly if that site or app has permission to access your information. You may end up accidentally contacting your entire email address book.

See you in The Matrix, kids.

Mr Trivia

Saw this at IGA last night. WTF Benefiber?

2011-09-13T06:13:00.001+08:00

Getting The Band Back Together

2011-09-06T03:23:00.000+08:00

Long time readers of this 'blog and Perth Zeitgeisters in general, will recall that I used to be a member of WA's Premier Party Band - Dancing With Gorbachev a.k.a. The Gorbies a.k.a The Gorbys. We were kind of a Slim Jim and the Fatts Band but not as alternative. There's still many a Gen Xer who will recall how we used to blow the roof off Leopold with our George Thorogood covers. We disbanded back in '06, after an incredible show at St James Mitchell Park.

I didn't think I'd ever want to jam again, but lately I've been feeling that old feeling again.

But getting the Gorbys together would be a mistake. Reunions can be tricky things. The world was terribly disappointed that The Spice Girls had one at all. And many of us dream of the day The Rolling Stones get together in a rehearsal room and decide it's time to call it quits.

Anyhow, I'm thinking of starting a new band called either Collision Mesh or The Ethan Marrell Deep Impact Experience. I think both have their strengths.

The first name is a Captcha that I had to fill in to register with an Amish adult site. It actually wasn't that hot. The site shows ex-Amish of both genders, barn-raising, tilling fields and grooming horses whilst wearing fitted shorts and t-shirts from American Apparel's California Select range.

The second name comes partly from Washington Irving's 1820 short story The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow. I'm doing this by memory, but I believe young Ethan Marrell was a stable boy who dreamt that in two hundred years time the town would be destroyed in the Global Financial Crisis.

I haven't thought a lot about The Music. I envisage it as part Ke$ha, part Lily Allen with a tiny bit of Taylor Swift wrapped around the block-rocking beats of Cee Lo Green. Conversely, I have thought a lot about The Look. Yesterday I discovered that they make footed pyjamas in adult sizes. Some people call them "footies" but they're the sort of individuals who say "LOL" as an actual word. No judgement or nuthin' but people like that are totes evil and are destroying Our Way of Life by speaking the English language no better than Channel 11's Labby and/or Stav.

But back to footed pyjamas in adult sizes. Yesterday I sourced a pair of yellow ones with police cars and fire engines on it. Me and the band will wear this for our Tears for Fears bracket. I've also located a pair of camo-footed pjs, which I think would be appropriate for our Regina Spektor set.

I'm excited by our creative direction and I see Collision Mesh or perhaps the The Ethan Marrell Deep Impact Experience kicking out the jams at the Fly By Night in Freo in twelve to thirty-six months.

Cheers,

Mr Trivia

Dad Joke 2

2011-09-01T11:48:00.001+08:00

> Some people need "discipline" others need the letter "c".
>

Dad Joke 1

2011-09-01T11:25:00.000+08:00

I"d be "furious" too if they mispelled my numberplate.

McReviews

2011-08-12T02:00:00.001+08:00

For further information by click here.

Hail Zeitgeisters,

Google Maps–like many things online–has a social dimension. Punters are encouraged to review the businesses that are on the maps. I found the above review of Macca's Tuart Hill, intriguing. Let us ignore for a moment the strange syntax and grammar and ponder the idea that despite the cheese often having a "strange taste" the reviewer still patronises the establishment. "I'd like a Boston Deli Bagel, but minus the strange-tasting cheese, por favor." Is that how one would navigate the transaction? For the record, "strange cheese" gave the joint a 4/5 star rating.

The other two reviews also beg questions of the discriminating netizen. "Excellent customer service, always neat and clean, they make you feel like you are the king." It's not clear if the monarch in question is Albert II, King of the Belgians or perhaps boxing promoter Don King, but the reviewer is clearly a fan of this burger palace, rating it a fat 5/5.

The third and final reviewer took a fantasy approach and reviewed as though on a version of Facebook with the infamous, yet non-existent, "dislike" button. "Dislike: The lack of customer service ever by this company, poor listening skills and team work." Is all of McDonald's–the corporate entity–indicted by this sentence and the 1/5 rating?

The "poor listening skills" the reviewer is referring to could mean the staff mishearing Grand Angus as Mighty Angus and getting the order wrong. But maybe she or he means the entire McDonald's Corporation–all the way up to RONALD MCDONALD himself, isn't listening to we, the people; the Fast Food Community of ~~America~~ Australia.

Yeah, you're on notice Ronnymandias–look on your works and despair! Start listening to our complaints on third party sites or we'll use our Google Maps to find directions to Hungry Jacks or Burger King.

Mr Trivia

Blades of Glory

2011-08-02T04:06:00.001+08:00

We received this in the post in the last few weeks. It’s a piece of synthetic turf. A friend of mine wondered if it was somehow connected to the banning of Kronic, but no, it’s simply a rather nifty idea for selling fake grass. I liked the look of it so much that I stuck a golfball on it to give it further realism.

I promise, I am not related to these people or in a tryst with one of their reps. Mr Trivia is not usually in the business of plugging products, but this seemed like an unusual and clever marketing idea. Get a piece of the product, stick your details on the bottom and put it in people’s letterboxes. Kudos to the folks at All Seasons Synthetic Turf.

Mr Trivia

Forever Krystle

2011-07-10T11:42:00.004+08:00

I discovered the existence of fragrance “user reviews” which I had no idea existed. Yes, I was that ignorant. Thank you, Internet. I read some of these at Fragrantica.com and Basenotes.net and soon realised that perfumes have a dedicated and erudite user community who are prepared to go into great detail about what they think of the product but also what memories it evokes. It was a lot more fun than reading user reviews for electronic goods.

Glitteralex found a vintage bottle FOREVER KRYSTLE, "I fear the bergamot note has lost some of its freshness," she said. And then, "After a few seconds of the 'alcohol' note, a heart of plasticky vanilla rose atop a synthetic resin comes through. The musk makes an appearance after about 15 minutes. I do not see vanilla in the notes, but I am sure it is there. The scent is fairly simple, and linear in nature. Not a complex or symphonic perf."

Sandy gave FOREVER KRYSTLE a thumbs up, despite saying, "When this was first launched a friend recommended it to me. It was a blinding headache at first sniff. If I can remember anything past the memory of the pain and nausea it was a floral scent, not really bad." In fact a number of fragrances were reviewed as headache-inducing. .

Using Forbes' best-seller list as a guide, I got the skinny on some of the more contemporary perfumes. Sarah Jessica Parker's NYC was well-reviewed for its smell but panned for its packaging. Psychogirl wasn't happy with it. "I don't mind a bit of tacky and fun, but this is just poorly printed and assembled. It's hard to believe that SJP would have approved of this. I actually think the parade of SJP Perfumes have called into question her integrity."

Further up the best-selling ladder was Beyonce with HEAT. This was mostly well-received but naturally I couldn't ignore Perfumaholic's passionate review, "It smells horrible on me, and I found myself trying to scrub it off my arm THREE times to no avail. Heat has become one of my least favorite fragrances because of the overpowering peach and floral notes trying to murder each other."

And at the top of the list was the grande dame of all celeb fragrances - Elizabeth Taylor's WHITE DIAMONDS. Many of the reviewers reported using it as girls when it first came out in 1991 or remembering it as the perfume their mother or grandmother wore.

RTGiggles wasn't impressed, "I can't stand this stuff! It strikes me as a 'trampy biker wanna be classy' scent. Gives you a headache like a dang hangover with no buzz." But Darvant loved it, White Diamonds is decadent in a tender and romantic way. The initial blast of vintage neroli, poutpourri citrus, dreaming rose, ethereal violet, sensual jasmine, silent lily, proud narcissus and delicate white flowers introduces the deliberately retro feel of this wonderful scent."

I feel encouraged to expand the scope of my own user reviews in other areas. I recently purchased a Timex wrist watch through E-Bay. It has a top note of distant buyer’s remorse and a base note of everlasting cheapness.

Check out the 1987 television commercial that pushed FOREVER KRYSTLE's male counterpart CARRINGTON. For those of you who never experienced the DYNASTY phenomenon, THIS is Linda Evans as Krystle Carrington and John Forsythe plays Blake Carrington.

Bacon and Egos

2011-07-09T16:40:00.003+08:00

Hail Facebookers,

If you join the Bacon and Egos Group you'll never miss excellence like the Bacon AT-AT.

At Bacon and Egos we have a mission to re-blog, rebroadcast and report on Bacon stories or Bacon and Egg related items. We've worked hard over the last two years to bring you the Baconic News and keep you informed about this wonderful, processed meat product.

Now go to tifr.us and see the half dozen Bacon AT-AT photographs. Mmm, mmm - Force flavoured BACON!

Tom Cochrane Free Zone

2011-07-09T13:49:00.003+08:00

I heard someone using this a ringtone this week. I understand that we're all different et cetera, but if I ever hear this song on the radio I switch it off straight away. The rage takes half an hour to subside.

The Jaffle Pie is Back.

2011-07-09T13:07:00.001+08:00

I'm calling it people. Grab a jaffle pie now while it's in that was-uncool-now-it's-retro zone.

Diary of an Oxygen Sucker | 001

2011-06-15T03:25:00.001+08:00

Diary of an Oxygen Sucker | 001 by Mister Trivia

And We're Done!

2011-01-16T06:30:00.002+08:00

In December 2010, ~~Mr Trivia left Australia and now travels the world as a consultant for~~ ~~WillowWare Storage~~.

Mr Trivia left behind the writer whom he described as his alter ego Phil Jeng Kane. Phil maintains the various blogs that Mr Trivia left behind. These are a tribute to a blogger who was neither before nor after his time, but rather timeless, in the sense that his wisdom and his utterances are so universal that they could have been made at any point in history and have the same relevance as they do today - which is to say none whatever.

~~Mr Trivia and his Documenteur Mr Jeng Kane hope you gain some insight into a unique mind who left us for the world of plastic food storage too early and without warning.~~

~~Phil Jeng Kane~~

Zeitgesters,

In December 2010, Mr Trivia discontinued this blog. He is now on a mission to observe and record. You may yet see evidence of his existence. Do not despair, Mr Trivia fans, wherever the trivial and the retro thrive, can he be too far away?

Join his Facebook Fan Page to celebrate his essence. And yes, he is writing in the third person, we don;t need to make a thing of it.

Peace Out!

Mr Trivia

THE BEET GOES ON: Learning to enjoy huge amounts of life saving beet root

2010-11-24T09:43:00.000+08:00

I <3 this soulless conglomerate. I wish they made fan merch.

2010-11-21T22:06:00.001+08:00

Flight Risk

2010-09-12T05:19:00.000+08:00

I’m not a good flier. Although not aerodynamic, I am referring to my psychological attitude to powered flight; the fad that started at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina with the Wright brothers and will, any day now, disappear from society like the hula hoop and efficient customer service.

I embark on any aeroplane with trepidation. I think of it as a potential fiery tube of death. A winged cylinder filled in a split second with a vicious orange fireball, the heinous result of a tiny spark, from an ill-maintained circuit, igniting tons of aviation fuel.

People try to help by saying things like, “it’s more dangerous driving on the roads.” I know they have statistics on their side, however, if the engine stops on my Toyota Townace, then I am not 30,000 feet above ground in a machine that the Internet informs me weighs approximately the same as 56 African elephants when fully fuelled. (Yes, the Boeing 747, not the elephants.)

There are no engines, so we glide. We travel pretty far, but the plane is above the Great Australian Bight and as we hit the water it’s like plummeting straight onto concrete. Or worse, some of us survive and the Southern Ocean rushes in pitilessly, smashing the air from the cabin. The last thing I see is the pale yellow light, flickering on my lifejacket.

The trouble is I don’t drink. But I always consider having a drink or two – which is all a teetotaller needs to feel comfortably numb – when I get on a flight, but then I always decide that I need to face the enclosed furnace or the icy ocean depths, fully sober, which, even as I write these words, seems extraordinarily dumb.

When I get on the plane, I do what many other bad fliers do. I mentally detach myself from the experience. I become a consciousness piloting the vessel of my body which is inside a much larger craft that is totally out of my control. I listen to music. Read magazines. Ignore the food and drink. And generally pretend as though I am not really cramped into one of those Economy Class airliner seats. You can attempt to talk to me, but you’re only getting my voicemail.

All of this is a mere preamble to my actual point. If all of us who hate flying didn’t have enough reasons to curse the experience, now there’s something else to worry about. This happened in the United States last Thursday. Apparently, during a JetBlue flight from Newark to Orlando, a centrefold model for Singapore Playboy attempted to open one of the plane’s doors. Tiffany Livingston, 21 is reported to have suffered an anxiety attack when she attempted her mid-flight flit. Apparently the other 328 passengers experienced their own anxiety attack shortly thereafter.

Tiffany 'Midflight' Livingston

So now, I have to worry about the anxious centrefold model three rows up. (Although, if she’s back in Economy with me, she needs a better manager.) I would like to end this post with an appeal to any potentially skittish Playboy models boarding planes that I might be on. Please make sure you down a couple of Mersyndol Forte or whatever elixir you require to help you get through the flight.

Otherwise, if you go anywhere near a door and don’t appear sufficiently cheery, then a pony-tailed Eurasian man slightly drunk on half a can of UDL gin and tonic, will be spearheading a phalanx of passengers to tackle you to the floor.

And no one wants to see that.

Mr Trivia

Profound Sadness

2010-09-10T05:25:00.002+08:00

Existence is a real head trip, huh guys? I was thinking about how sad things could be and that made me sad. So in order to conquer the feeling, I sourced some of the most sad imagery I could find. And in so doing, I created a film about how sad existence can be, sometimes.

Do not watch this video if you have recently lost some money at the track or ruined your laundry by mixing white items and colours. What I am trying to say here in this video is so infinitely sad, that not even a brisk episode of Two and a Half men will cheer you up.

Get ready for The Profound Sadness of our Existence here on Planet Earth. The music is Horst Jankowski from his album Verve Jazz Club.

Mr Trivia

Vending Machine Win

2010-09-03T15:03:00.000+08:00

I had only planned on getting the above items.However, the vending machines in the place I work are programmed to take your money and give you nothing in return.

I required a bag of Sour Squirms. They were in the bottom right hand corner compartment - E8. I put a fiver into the note-snatcher, heard $1.50 clatter into the coin return. The large black coil holding The Squirms, rotated one turn and released the bag, it shuffled forward two centimetres, then stood teetering on the ledge, just above the pit you grab your goodies from. I willed it to fall. It trembled on the brink like a plump diver waiting for the referee's whistle. After about five seconds it became clear that my paid-for bag of Squirms was content to stay where it was - like a portly Greg Louganis, frozen in time on a sprinboard to nowhere.

There was no way I was going to allow this to happen, but because I too can be described as portly there was also no way I was going to be seen shouting at or tilting the machine. It would just be too much of a punchline. "Hey buddy, haven't you had enough? Step away from that vending machine..."

So I put in more money and hit E8 again. Success! The bag executed a perfect pike into the retrieval bay. But the second bag I had just paid for performed a familiar move. It shuffled into coyly into position as though auditioning for one of Yum-Yum in the Mikado. And then it stood there. I considered pulling a few Butoh moves to express my distress.

And then I had an idea. I chucked in some more coins and watched as a small bar of Cadbury hazelnut chocolate fell from it's home in D8 and nudged the second bag of Squirms, dislodging it from the ledge. Both items landed in the retrieval bay and I - in the manner of a national song you might know - grabbed them with glee. I had sucessfully outwitted the vending machine. I had triumphed over technology. I was so pleased with this victory, that I went to the next class I was teaching and explained to them my genius while sharing out the extra squirms and chocolate I had no need for.

I had paid out a mere 6 dollars to halt the Rise of The Machines. And it was money well spent.

Mr Trivia

Sunset over WCIT campus Joondalup, September 1st.

2010-09-03T13:46:00.000+08:00

Orange Art

2010-08-30T09:45:00.001+08:00

This is what happens when you leave a Multimedia student alone with a whiteboard marker. I just turned around for a moment and there it was. Sitting on top of my large Macca's cap. I ask for a small one to minimise the afterburn, but the kids at the Joondalup Golden Arches were feeling generous. But I digress. You work with arty types and they'll make art out of anything. Like Picasso's bull, although I probably mean "Bull". Anyhow that's how I ended up with an original Ozy on a Monday morning. But this photograph is all that survives. That's what happens when you use my morning mandarin for a canvas.

Mr Trivia

Promo Fail

2010-08-30T09:38:00.000+08:00

This is Channel 9's idea of a promo for the movie Summer Holiday.

Blake's 7 - Orac Loves You

2010-07-24T19:21:00.001+08:00

Orac was a super computer in the 1970s BBC sci-fi series BLAKE'S SEVEN. If only the iPad were even half as cool as this...

Quentin Bryce is our Governor General

2010-07-22T08:17:00.006+08:00

Breakfast Review

2010-07-21T10:00:00.001+08:00

C15 Espresso.
15 Riseley Street, Applecross, Western Australia 6153.

Bacon and Poached Eggs ($14.90) and English Breakfast Tea (6/10);

Scrambled Eggs on Toast ($12.90) and a Short Black (6.5/10).

My breakfast pal and I have eaten at C-15 before and at these prices we think that adequate is not quite what I had in mind when I shelled out 15 Aussie Quid.

Mr Trivia

I ♥ the Governor-General. She's tremendous.

2010-07-21T09:56:00.000+08:00

Sent from my ever-lovin' iPhone

Slap Happy

2010-07-13T03:37:00.002+08:00

Some quick thoughts on the Slap Chop. NOTE: If you don’t know what that is or how it works spend some time watching the famous infomercial. You won’t even need to watch the whole thing. You’ll get it before the first minute is over.

The Slap Chop seems okay. I don’t like it quite as much as Vince does. But Vince also likes the Sham Wow so his judgement is in question as well as up for sale. I wanted a Slap Chop because I don’t like chopping vegetables. I do it six days out of seven and find somewhat dull.

I first learnt to chop vegetables as a kid working in my parents’ various restaurants, so I’ve have sliced a myriad of onions, a plethora of cabbage and a several tonnes of carrot in my time. It’s boring and a tiny bit dangerous. Not sky diving dangerous, but certainly ‘get me to the emergency room, stat!’ levels of threat.

But my main objection to the Slap Chop is the size of the appliance. The celery, potato etc that go into it, are all sliced at least once. Some of the longer items have been cut several times. And I’m really not up for that. I need a pre-Slap Chop invention that will take the carrot, wash it, peel it and cut it into quarters so it can fit into the Slap Chop. Without this kind of pre-Treatment I have at least 5 minutes of prep before I can have the cathartic fun of smashing down the button on the Slap Chop.

Five minutes people. That’s 300 seconds that I could be employing to greater effect. Reading great works of literature. Learning Esperanto. Or even blogging. (probably want to scratch that last one.)

If this device were to be invented, then perhaps I could consider the purchase of the Slap Chop. I would like to propose The Slap Prep as its name. Hopefully it’s operation would be similar to the original ingenious kitchen appliance.

Go to it Domestic Scientists!

Mr Trivia

Lunch Review - Ipoh

2010-07-08T12:39:00.003+08:00

Ipoh Garden Restaurant, Canning Highway. Mount Pleasant.
Foreground: Ipoh Combination Horfun (fried, mild) 5/10:
Background: Ipoh Combination Laksa (hot,spicy) 8/10.
Cost with pot of Chinese Tea $11.00 per head.

Self-Paced

2010-07-08T06:06:00.002+08:00

When I was in Primary School back in the 1970s in Western Australia, I went to a school that taught reading comprehension in all the usual ways but also used an American teaching aid that we referred colloquially as SRA cards, but an hour or research on the ol’ internet has persuaded me that I was, in fact, one of millions of Gen X (and 2nd Wave Baby Boomers) who encountered the SRA Reading Laboratory Kit.

SRA was Scientific Research Associates a Chicago based publisher of Educational materials (thank you Wikipedia). But their tautologically named teaching aid was kick-ass for a word nerd like myself. I recall it as a box stuffed with cards. Each card had a short segment of writing on it and then some comprehension questions. You’d answer the questions on a separate sheet they provided and if you were correct you got to move on to the next card. This was self-paced learning at its best as far as I was concerned.

Boring, si? NO! Because the genius part was this – the whole system was colour coded! There were – I dunno ten levels in a box and each one was a different colour and there were perhaps ten cards in a level. If you were in purple level then once you’d answered your card correctly, you got to fill in a square on a progress chart in purple. Each level had an appropriately coloured pencil in the box, with the cards. You could chart your progress card-by-card and coloured square by coloured square.

My memories of precisely how the system worked are a little hazy, but some fella called Richard B appears to back up my memory on a Yahoo Answers UK & Ireland (ellipses indicate my editing)

I remember SRA extremely well (... )Every junior year had a different box each containing (I think) 12 sets of 12 cards, each set being of a different colour (…) We teachers loved it because we really didn't have to do a lot as the cards were marked by the children and all we had to do was to record each mark in our record book while the children recorded the cards they had completed on a 12 x 12 square on the front of their exercise books. SRA was very popular in the late 60s and early 70s and then, like so many educational gimmicks, it disappeared.

I thought they were excellent because I got to read simple paragraphs and was rewarded with colouring in. Even at the time I recall more than one teacher casting aspersions, suggesting that they were too simple. While researching this I came across a blogger who is still rather annoyed at being made to use these when her reading level was exceptional for her age. Amazing how these things can rankle, decades later.

The old iconic 1957 Lab Kit is often sighted and cited online, but interestingly no one claims to own one and I have only been able to find one jaggy scan of an old SRA card (seen below). So unfortunately we can’t see what kind of subject matter two generations of children in Australia, NZ, UK, the US and no doubt Canada were exposed to.

Personally I don’t care if they were the fast food of reading skills, I enjoyed them immensely. And it turns out Ricard B isn’t strictly correct. SRA was bought out by McGraw Hill and a form of the reading system still exists. Click here.

Elevate the Insignificant

Mr Trivia

Top Hat

2010-07-06T06:24:00.002+08:00

Mr Doyce and Mr Meagles choosing the right millinery

and thus owning Mr Clennam

While World Cup Fever has swept your home and your nights are awash with chanting fans and the hum of the vuvuzela, Little Dorrit Fever has infected my abode.

Fear not Dickensaphobes. Although I think this 2008 adaptation of Charles Dickens serial novel by television writer Andrew Davies for the Beeb has much to recommend it, I am not going to assail you with tales of Edmund Sparkler, Tattycoram or Cyrus Squickneedle (yes, I’m making up that last one).

I will focus on but a single element of Little Dorrit. Regency garb for men. The story is set in the 1820s and there are endless scenes of men scheming whilst wearing that era’s version of the top hat. Because I’ve only ever understood the top hat as somewhat of a fashion relic, I’ve never seen the attraction. My lefty-ratbag sensibility sees them as the kind of idiotic headgear some stiff would wear to an event such as Royal Ascot. Leaving aside Fred Astaire, I can’t think of anyone in the 20th Century who could truly bring off the topper.

But now I’ve seen it with the rest of the Regency schmutter, I see the point. Men, this is how we should dress for business (above). Forget the tie – pfffft! That pathetic rag of formality and servitude. We need to get kitted out in the full-on ensemble and then make plans in low tones in the streets and alleys from under the curled brim of our hat.

Good day, sir!

Mr Trivia

Common Transformations

2010-07-06T06:18:00.000+08:00

This video is such a melting snowflake of individual perfection that I daren't describe it for fear of 'tearing the butterfly's wing' of its rare beauty. Suffice to say, you will learn and grow as you experience the sights and sounds of this amazing half-minute of meta-imaginative glory.

Mr Trivia

Late lunch. Mushroom soup made with UHT skim and 2 x plain ricecakes.#luxury

2010-07-02T14:49:00.003+08:00

At Post Office. Thinking of buying Spartacus DVD. Other DVDs begin speaking. "No, I am Spartacus.' in quiet digital voices.

2010-07-01T16:29:00.001+08:00

My iPhone Wallpaper rings in the changes.

2010-06-24T12:13:00.002+08:00

Vending Machine FAIL!

2010-06-21T13:43:00.000+08:00

The Prize Cube has hideous gifts to share - Hoyts Lobby. Booragoon.

2010-06-17T18:51:00.000+08:00

At last! On the chilled shelves of my local IGA . Apparently it's great for roasting potatoes.

2010-06-11T22:43:00.000+08:00

Waiting Room

2010-06-07T07:05:00.000+08:00

I’m an insomniac. I am rarely asleep before 3am. I have a friend ‘Colin’, who occasionally drunk dials me late at night. He’s never managed to wake me. Once I was actually about to go to bed. It was 4.30am. Lately, when the phone rings, I would like it very much to be Colin posing a difficult philosophical question with that complex, sozzled mind of his, because recently, it’s Dad.

Dad hasn’t been well. It’s not life-threatening, but what he has (and it’s his business, no one else’s) has put him out of action for the last couple of months. He is in his 70s and up until this year, quite active and healthy.

Dad is only semi-ambulatory right now. He can make it from room to room, but isn’t on his feet very long. And because he is our mother’s carer this has meant my brother and I have been running errands, doing chores and transporting both parents to the shops, doctors’ appointments and the like.

All of which is ordinary stuff . Many of you have done the same and more, over years of your lives. I’m writing this just to flag this shift in our lives. It’s a Post-It note to myself saying, “Here it comes, get ready”

A call after midnight means that Dad needs to go to Emergency. This is what happened tonight. I took the call and my brother – whom I share a house with – said, “Do you want me to go, too?” I said no. And he asked why not, and I realised that I had no compelling reason. I thought it was my turn. But driving to our folks’ place it turned out that he thought that I had done the last one. Whatever. I was glad of the company. Interestingly, he chose to bring a copy of VAANITY FAIR with him. The Thackeray novel, not the Condé Nast magazine of pop culture, fashion and politics (Thanks Wikipedia).

Mum was going, too, it turned out. Suddenly I felt as if we were overly-personelled for this mission, but what the hell, the more the merrier. But Dad wasn’t merry or too talkative. He was doing his 1950s-male-holding-it-all-together thing. I could tell by the amount he was concentrating and not taking the piss, that he was in pain. The men in our family are stoics. (Okay, not me.) I remember the last time we were in Emergency, a guy about Dad’s age had been really screaming out in pain. I thought about that as I drove to Sir Charles Gairdiner Hospital.

Emergency at Charlie Gairdner’s was quiet. Even though today is a public holiday in Western Australia, it felt like the Sunday night it was. Dad got put through straight away. My brother and I were relieved. Mum went through his medical history for the nurse.

As you know, what you do in Emergency is wait. It was such a quiet night the only other people there were two groups of youngsters. A trio of girls who looked around 18 and who were dressed for a night out. One of them, Miss Redhead in a Green Dress had injured her foot which another of them had bandaged. As the night wore on, it sounded as if she had fallen down a flight of stairs and put that foot through a plate glass window. My eavesdropping skills were insufficient to tell whether this was the actual story or the tale she was going to tell other people. The other group was three guys and a girl, all in their early twenties and it seemed as if the guy they were waiting to see, had been in some kind of fight. One of the fellas, Mr Sandy Hair in a Maroon Sweater, enacted a scenario that involved a turn and swinging punch.

Actually, the two groups were so youthful and attractive that they looked like the background extras from the diner at Summer Bay. Later on, when I mentioned this to my brother he said, “There was an Asian guy and girl in there, when would you see that on HOME AND AWAY?”

We went in to see Dad and he was only halfway through what he needed to do. There was an ultra-sounding and some blood tests that still hadn’t happened. He had the same annoyed expression that I have inherited and would be wearing had I been in his place. It masks the fear. Annoyance seems more active somehow.

Back in the waiting area, an old episode of SKIPPY was playing on the telly. Chuck Faulkner was the special guest star. I couldn’t hear the soundtrack because some generic Kenny G style audio was playing over the P.A. system.

It was getting late. Mum suggested that I sleep. I scoffed at this, then spent the next half hour dozing in my chair. I woke to hear her explaining to my brother how good fish oil tablets are.

Around 4am we were able to take Dad home. He felt better. They staff had been able to help him. They had relieved his pain and eased his mind. He had a prescription. It seemed he might have got an infection from his trip stay in hospital a week ago. That was the working theory.

As I said, my 70-something father doesn’t have a life-threatening condition. He has these ridiculous genes. He is only a bit grey. Until recently he never looked his age. It fooled other people and it certainly fooled me. He’s never been frail, but I can see it coming. He is walking like he’s been mugged. And he’s not that sick. I worry about his having the energy to deal with whatever is coming next. Last week, he said to me, “I’ve never thought of myself as old, but the last few weeks. I’m really starting to feel it.”

Everything is okay. I know that. Everyone is home and asleep in their beds. I’m writing this and listening to Hall and Oates sing “I Can’t Go For That” on my iTunes. Maybe I’ll ring my mate Colin. I’ll sober-dial him and we can discuss the question of an Afterlife.

Mr Trivia

This blog entry is also posted at the mrtrivia.net site.

Props to Target

2010-05-29T15:50:00.002+08:00

When was the last time we praised the House of Tar-jay? Yesterday I was in there and discovered this generously sized basket - nay almost a mega BUCKET - in which we, the consumers, can place the treasures we find at that citadel of retailing opulence.

Maybe they pinched the idea from Colonel Sanders, I'm not sure, but the fact that we will be able to BUY MORE without wheeling a cumbersome trolley through the aisles, makes one feel happy and satisfied with the Target experience.

Mr Trivia

Queen Tut

2010-05-28T07:11:00.003+08:00

According to the Wikipedia ‘tsk!’ is American English and ‘tut!’ is English. Both are supposed to be onomatopoeic representations of the disapproving sound one makes with the teeth and tongue to indicate disapproval. Personally, I prefer the ‘tsk’ to the ‘tut’ but let’s focus on the doughnut and not the hole, fellow zeitgeisters.

I learnt early on the power of the ‘tsk’ from my mother. Strangely she didn’t overuse it in real life, preferring to reserve it for watching television. Some of jewels of 1970s and 1980s television were tsked over with great gusto. The bombing of NUMBER 96, Fergo the Freak’s reign of Terror in PRISONER, JR’s latest dirty trick in DALLAS; all were occasions upon which Mum would shake her head and tsk at the acts of low character she saw taking place first on the Healing black and white set, then on our Kriesler 36-inch colour telly.

Over the years, I’ve become used to Mum’s habit of dismissing a character’s act of evil with the slow, tut. Usually a trio of clicks with one full head shake. Recently I was stunned, to hear the same thing exactly while at a screening. I was at my old employer Media Dell’Arte in Fremantle. I had agreed to lead a post-movie chat comparing Dennis Lehane’s novel Mystic River with Clint Eastwood’s movie adaptation. Whenever anything bad happened to a good character, an older lady, similar in age to my mother, although less Chinese, reacted with a flurry of tut-age. Towards the climax of the film, she sounded like Skippy discovering that Sonny was using the helicopter hangar to cook crystal meth.

However, last night, I discovered a new way to employ the tsk. I was at the musical play THE LAST FIVE YEARS which was Downstairs at The Maj. At the climactic point of the story we discover that one of the characters has morally compromised himself, at the very moment he sang of his indiscretion, I could hear a solitary gunshot ‘tsk’ from the back of the room. This was a power tut that reverberated off the walls. “How could you?” it said, “You weak, weak man.”

Long live Queen Tut!

Mr Trivia

Iconic

2010-05-27T12:49:00.001+08:00

The classic Australian Icon of clothes drying. The Hills Hoist of the '50s and '60s. Note the pitiful modern clothesline in the b/g. The traditional Hills Hoist is as Australian as an Irish theme pub, a dim sim in a baine marie or a replacement coat hanger car radio aerial bent into the shape of Australia.

I never feel more emotional about this wide brown land than when I hear the Qantas tykes singing Sir Peter Allen's "I Still Call Australia Home." Despite the fact I am always in Australia when I hear it.

That's Oz for youse, she gets into your system and never leaves. She's like a hood kind of
malaria. Remember, peeps, Australia isn't K Rudd or James Packer or even Jennifer Hawko.

Australia is Daryl Somers and Ossie Ostrich. G'day and good luck to thee and thine.

Mr Trivia

Just so you're all up with all the minutiae if my existence - this Doris Day photo is my iPhone wallpaper.

2010-05-22T21:05:00.000+08:00

This Week In Mr Trivia’s Bubble

2010-05-15T05:13:00.001+08:00

Monday. Sick at home and thus unable to educate today’s youth to not say LOL as a word. Not that I can manage this even when I’m there. I discover day-time television is as terrible as night-time television with a couple of subtle differences. Day-time TV is filled with infomercials about buying life insurance without a medical and infomercials for bagless, cyclonic Dyson ripoff vacuum cleaners that can pick up a bowling ball using just suction. Night-time telly is filled with infomercials about how the whole world is going crazy for Zumba and informercials with scantily clad ladies (some of whom can pick up a bowling ball using just suction) who want you to call them NOW for just $20.00 a minute.

Tuesday. Perth is finally cooling off. I take a picture of a deciduous tree in Joondalup in order to illustrate this point. Because I do that with an iPhone camera, it probably just looks like an ordinary tree. Believe me though, it was a crisp autumnal moment, the kind one will remember fondly in one’s dotage as the machine beeps and the rubber-wheeled trollies roll silently from ward to ward.

Wednesday. I teach some animation students about the rising line of action in a film narrative. But totally fail to call it this. Must remember to do go back in time or forward to the next class and do this. Have a great homemade Pho. Or Bun Bo Hue. My Vietnamese is exactly like my Cantonese. Completely non-existent. (And this guy calls himself Eurasian).

Thursday. I have coffee with a friend at Scuzzi’s on Angelo Street, South Perth. When we lived near there it was our deli. It’s a fave with the Angeloni, Coodos and Ansteyites who want to buy expensive continental ingredients. And now it sells reasonably priced coffee even though the drinking area is a bit of an afterthought.

Friday. Am driving along Canning Highway, Palmyra when I see a sign that says “Dress Sale. 8am-1pm Saturday 15th May. All Dresses under $100.” And I catch myself thinking ‘that’s’s cheap’. Then I remember. ‘You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You have never purchased a dress in all your life. You are just talking crap right now.” And when you think that. You'd better go blog.

Cheers!

Mr Trivia

Mr Trivia's Sci-Fi Story Begins

2010-05-08T05:25:00.000+08:00

The first exciting instalment of Mr Trivia's science-fiction tale is here!!

The Insomniac’s Calendar – Part 1

It was late. God, it was 2010. There were things he could have done. Things he could be doing. But Rory Insteppe options had been reduced to one unpalatable choice. Get out of his flat before the Firecops arrived. He’d been warned five times already. A sixth time would mean jailtime for the popular weather blogger and alternative universe conspiracy theorist.

Rory wasn’t famous in the old sense. Not like Betty and Barney Hill the first recorded UFO abductees. Rory was a famous as anyone on public Internet who had their own show. His was called MULTIVERSE EXPOSED and featured tweets from friends, and the occasional hatebomb from games he’d formerly been addicted to.

For all of 2008 he’d been immersed in THE LAST BLOODY CAMPAIGN OF WAYNE THORPE’S BOGAN VAMPIRES. If he hadn’t been employed by Centrelink he would have lost his job. At the time Centrelink were locked in a power struggle with Anglican Social Services. Rory went in to work daily. Logged on. Played BogVamps for 7.5 hours and then went home and played for 13 more. It was during this time that he forgot what little French he’d learnt in high school.

But that was all 24 months and half a lifetime ago. Now, Rory was a bonafide nascent Perthonality. The term Perthonality meant a ‘personality’ in the city of Perth. It was a coveted title that allowed the bearer easy access to prescription drugs, illegal narcotics, free hot and spicy KFC wings, copies of Saturday’s West Australian – the alleged newspaper of record - and sex with any financial member of the Peel Thunder.

Rory’s status as a Perthonality was so incipient, so tremblingly on the edge of realisation, that it taunted him as Delilah had taunted Samsung Electronics. People loved the idea that there could be a multitude of Universes somewhere ‘out there’. It was a wild, bold, zany idea that only a scientist could even entertain and there were only a few left of that ancient cult. His viewership was in the healthy low thousands and they tuned in week in and week out to catch the latest piece of ‘evidence’.

Rory claimed that there was something particular about him that attracted objects from the other Universes. These things would be pulled into his reality without warning. Last Saturday for example, the show featured something that looked almost exactly like an electric clothes iron. Except it had a reservoir to store distilled water that was heated until it evaporated. The steam it produced was forced out of holes in the iron’s soleplate supposedly making it simpler and quicker to iron out wrinkles.

It seemed preposterous, but even the show’s greatest critics had to admit that the prop and production design department of MULTIVERSE EXPOSED was absolutely first rate. The iron looked like the sort of thing you could buy from Harvey Norman’s or Vox Adeon.

Which was pretty much how Rory had got into his present predicament. He’d been napping on his sofa in his flat on Angelo Street, South Perth, when another object had manifested itself in the middle of the living room carpet. A fondue pot – unknown in Insteppe’s world – appeared complete with naked flame to keep the melted cheese liquid.

The pot keeled over. The loops of the nylon carpet ignited in seconds and the smoke alarm went off, waking Rory from his slumber. As he tried to focus on something, thick acrid smoke made it hard to see further than a metre.

Rory kicked his way out through his back door. His arrest would help no one. And he particularly needed to be free tomorrow on the first ever Ro-People Day. After many years, Rory and other crusaders for civil liberties had made it possible for Robots to fight for equal status with biological humans. There was a long way to go, but at least it was now hate speech to expect a robot to dance ‘the robot’.

The Firecruiser arrived, water cannon blazing. Rory hid under the awning of the Secret Garden Café as his flat and all his possessions were doused in two tonne of watergel.

TO BE CONTINUED

Fortress Spotlight - Myaree.

2010-04-21T11:03:00.000+08:00

Strolling thru glorious Myaree waiting for a new windscreen - sending this via Macca's wifi.

2010-04-21T10:10:00.000+08:00

Yet another reason to visit IGA Canning Bridge

2010-04-11T22:09:00.000+08:00

Coffee loving bird just wandered in then out.

2010-04-10T09:06:00.000+08:00

Waiting with my folks in Emergency at Charlie's (For Dad he's OK) A woman here has an incessant Christmas ringtone.

2010-04-04T22:28:00.000+08:00

Absence. Heart. Fonder.

2010-04-04T01:36:00.002+08:00

Hey Zeitgeisters, I know it felt like I left - and that's because I had. But after what only amounted to some weeks of absence I have returned to my blogspot 'blog - my first - my favourite - Mr Trivia's Tract. I attempted to reduce my 'blog footprint, but unfortunately it wasn't to be. Like an irritating house guest who has spread his belongings and knick-knacks all over your formerly well-ordered home, my messy self is here to stay.

What's with the above not-very-interesting picture at the top of this entry? That's for my buddy Phil Jeng Kane's Tumblr. This is his workaround in order that he can have both an "image and text in a text post" whatever that means.

Why he attempts to keep up with the teenagers on Tumblr I'm sure I don't know. Anyhoo, keep watching this space, I will be back sooner than you think, my friend.

Mr Trivia

P.S. Note to self: Apparently old school Tumblr had a problem with uploading an image straight up to a text post. But that's all changed. Once again, I am supposed to remember this for PJK - I personally don't give a rat's.

The stage where dreams are made and broken - just waiting for the magic of Grant Denyer etc.

2010-03-31T15:33:00.000+08:00

Queueing for Australia's Got Talent at Perth Convention Centre.

2010-03-31T12:59:00.001+08:00

Young dachshund finds surfboard on Ardross Oval.

2010-03-11T07:45:00.000+08:00

I Meta In The Intertext: The desktop of my old Mac laptop.

2010-03-08T18:43:00.000+08:00

2010-03-06T07:18:00.000+08:00

Bacon and Eggs | 001

2010-01-09T23:55:00.000+08:00

The Big Breakfast at the Secret Garden Cafe, Angelo Street, South Perth. Cost $18.00. This gets you 2 x fried eggs, 3 x rashers of bacon, 2 x chipolata-style snages, 1 x hash brown, mushrooms, half a tomato, a leaf of lettuce, a slice of orange, 2 x slices of toast and a blister pack of Western Star butter. My dining pal said, "The bread is a sort of Tip Top Multigrain and the lettuce leaf is garnish at best so I'm scoring this a 7/10." I am being a sliver more generous with my Noodle rating (7.5/10)

Before We Get Those Jet Packs

2010-01-04T05:07:00.001+08:00

We've all heard the meme. It's the 21st Century - where are the jet-packs? Personally, I don't want to share the skies with people who can't merge their vehicles adequately into freeway traffic (also known as my fellow West Australians), but that's just me. Before we even get to jet propulsion as a means of personal transportation, let's get some other stuff off the drawing board and onto the shelves at BIG W. Most of this may not suit you and where you live, Dear Reader, but it's my blog, so I get to call the shots.

SMOOTH TALKING CAR
Not like KITT from Knightrider, but a vehicle that psychs you up for meetings and big events with motivational patter uniquely styled for your psychology. Ships with 1000 phrases like: "Mandy, you look smoking hot today and your CV totally kicks ass! Prepare to NAIL this interview, sister!"

HAULING OATS
On wintry days, this contraption transports a bowl of steaming hot porridge to your bedside to the music of Hall and Oates.

TWENTY FIVE VELOCIRAPTORS
The cool, deadly dinosaur that shot to fame after its appearance in the movie JURASSIC PARK is now a lethal genetic reality. Sure, they're incredibly unstable and are prone to full-body explosive termination after three hours. But that's enough time to sell your 'too sick to work' phoney bulldust.

TRUTH 'FRIDGE
It tells you when you've had enough and cuts you off. Can be programmed with hilarious insults like "Eating for Two, Bernard?"

SEX ROBOT
Not what you were thinking at all, the Sex Robot is built for parents too shy or uninformed to explain the birds and bees to their children. Sex Robot will have 'the talk' and give your kids up to date information without ever feeling embarrassed or wanting to snigger.

That's the kind of world I'd like to live in, friend. I might see you there.

Mr Trivia

Happy New E-Card!

2009-12-31T20:06:00.002+08:00

Hail,

Happy New 2010!

Sometimes an E-Card says deep things far better than you

mere words ever could. Please click here.

Regards,

Mr Trivia

http://twitter.com/mrtrivia

Scramble, Chaps!

2009-12-31T02:46:00.000+08:00

I was raised in the hospitality biz. My people are itinerant restaurateurs. Travelling from Perth suburb to Perth Suburb they established restaurants and a lunch bar. My mother had a knack of making good food, which continues, but only domestically these days. Her prime time eatery days are behind her.

I don’t pretend to be Master Chef’s Matt Preston – I’d look terrible in a smoking jacket and cravat for a start – but dammit, I know what I like. When I go to a café that makes breakfast, I always order some form of bacon and eggs. I think this basic dish is a good test of whether or not the cooking generally is any good. And this is the sort of thing a questing, pretentious git like me needs to know.

Those of you who have chanced upon me at my other Internet hidey-holes will know that I am the sort of person who will order bacon and eggs at a café, photograph it, then rate it. Believe me, I am a trial to myself sometimes. I have been haphazardly engaged in this over the last twelve months or so, but in December I have applied myself more earnestly to this great human endeavour.

This idea has been shamelessly plagiarised from my friend Ed, who used to do this very same thing – rating the quality of the same dish – Eggs Benedict in his case – all around our dry, windy city. He says the ulterior motive was to gaze upon waitresses. I will entertain no such base frippery whilst engaged in my quest.

If you would like to join me in this important, dangerously high-cholesterol work, please consider joining my Facebook Group - Bacon & Egos Facebook Group. You too can review this simple, honest dish and share your findings with a world hungry to know where it can get a decent plate of B&E.

The Bacon and Scrambled Eggs pictured above was served up on Saturday the 5^th of December 2009 at C-15 Espresso on Risely Street, Applecross. Cost unrecorded. Rating 7 /10.

My mate Ed’s Eggs Benedict is in the background. He is a frequent breakfast excursioner and he still tends to order Eggs Florentine or Eggs Benedict. We were at the Mends Street Dome in South Perth yesterday morning and because what they call Hollandaise Eggs contains spinach and ham or salmon, Ed felt it was more proper to call it Eggs Benetine or Florendict. So take head Domites. Your public hath spoken.

Mr Trivia

Fong's Takeaway Section

2009-12-16T02:51:00.001+08:00

Fong's Takeaway Section, originally uploaded by Mr Trivia.

Eating out has become too simple - too 'easy'. Okay, maybe not for Bear Grylls, but for the rest of us, it's something we do almost without thought. What I like about Fong's Kitchen on Canning Highway (Palmyra-ish opposite the MacDonald's) is that they have a separate takeaway section that is essentially a narrow, bleak corridor. It's a place that invites reflection.

If you're of a nervous disposition, then you will notice your literal reflection in the fish-eye mirror in the corner. Paranoia. If you are on hallucinogens, then you might wonder if someone is about to pop out of the hollow-core door and drag you off into some grisly Lynchian nightmare.

However, if you're a practical type with no time for such flights of fancy, you'll go there, order something from their excellent menu and enjoy the food. It's entirely up to you, friend.

Fong's Kitchen. Go for the shock corridor - but stay for the Szechuan Beef.

Mr Trivia

I Have Not Brought My Specs With Me

2009-11-07T04:16:00.004+08:00

I discover that I'm middle-aged. I'd been living in denial of this fact. But when a friend cast me as an extra in his film and I discovered that my part was 'middle-aged man' I decided it was time to embrace my new status.

I'm over youth. Apart from health and attractiveness it has so little to recommend it. For a start you don't know anything. You greet every new experience with fear and drama. I, on the other hand have become jaded and cynical. So much better than having fragile expectations.

For example, youngsters, Are you peeved that Kevin Rudd turns out to be a tosser who promised much and delivered nothing?. Well, I've had twenty years of being deceived by the Labor party, so pass me another Jatz cracker and the avocado dip, comrade. Better to promise social change and fall drastically short, eh ALP? Wrong.

As much as I abhor the self-interest and kowtowing to power that characterises the Libs - at least they're being true to their nature. I understand why their party is full of dimwitted climate change sceptics. What I didn't appreciate quickly enough is how much tough talk those ALP f**kers do until they get into office, whereupon they flip their position entirely. Garnaut report - ignored. Coal Industry - given the reach around.

I was still a whippersnapper when the last shreds of my gullibilty were removed. Now I'm middle-aged I can settle into a life of self-interest as I fully appreciate that my anger at those in power cannot change anything one whit. I have expended much time following politics, thinking that being an informed voter would somehow lead me to make better choices. Now as my teeth give me gyp and my eyes aren't what they used to be, I am learning that whoever I vote for, I will always get a politician. My one vote is worth a lot less than Rupert Murdoch's and he isn't even a citizen anymore.

So, caring less and, as I have hinted, seeing less. For the last three years I have resisted getting glasses. However, recently my inability to read even regular print in average light has meant that I have to abandon yet another position - the vanity that I don't need technical assistance to see. I was going to get proper glasses, but the situation grew so drastic that I ended up with supermarket specs. A number of my beglassed friends suggested that el cheapo non-prescription lenses were a good stop gap measure, but I balked at the ideas of sullying my vision with medical apparatus purchased from the same place that I got my Weetbix. Until the day that I was in a supermarket checking out the nutrition panels on food packaging and I realised that I couldn't read what was in a box of Weetbix, even if stuck it under a 200 watt lamp. Time to move on.

So middle age, I'm your new best friend. There's nothing about your lightly furrowed, greying, paunchiness that I don't love. I don't need to be surprised and I certainly don't need to learn new slang or know what music is cool. Thank God! I will never have to move the dial on my radio off the awesome 80s. The Eagles. Fleetwood Mac. Martha and the Muffins. All my music has been written and played. I hear Madness and I feel calm. It's all written off and played out.

So kids, if you need me - and you won't - I'll be in the backyard cultivating my garden and ignoring the front page of the newspaper. I'll have my glasses with me, but I'll only put them on to read Calvin and Hobbes.

Mr Trivia

Perth. We love our DON'T signs.

2009-10-15T16:55:00.006+08:00

Don't walk on the bike path. And don’t cycle on the footpath. The City of South Perth has got it sussed.

Saw this when out walking along the South Perth foreshore yesterday. This is a shortish piece of cycle path that runs across Sir James Mitchell Park. Most of the path that you might use on the 'Bridges' run, walk or cycle (ie around the Swan from the Narrows Bridge to the Causeway) is dual use.

So what's with this stunted section of single use cycleway? Odd.

Mr Trivia

My Riverside Calendar Shot

2009-10-11T17:00:00.001+08:00

The Applecross foreshore last weekend.

Hot Batter

2009-10-07T18:56:00.003+08:00

The diversity of reading material at my local chippie. Sonia Kruger on four covers. Count them. Four.

But this wasn't the most exciting thing about last night's meal. I ordered squid rings which fell apart while being deep fried; so when I got home I discovered that rather than half a dozen battered rings, I had six fried worm-shaped strips of calimari.

I think of them as squid laces. I coulda taken a picture, but what am I gonna do? record my entire life ans stick it on the Internets?

I think not.

Mr Trivia

Written Off

2009-09-14T23:22:00.005+08:00

Zeitgeisters,

Sometimes it pays to read one's own 'blog. I found an interesting story in the NPR (National Public Radio) links on the right hand column (just to the right here...and down a little...there.)

The story covers the continuing downturn in money and opportunities for screenwriters in Hollywood. Read on fellow writers and curious others.

Mr Trivia

Curmudgeon Award Noms

2009-08-15T11:16:00.004+08:00

Hey Zeitgeisters,

Put your thoughts down and respond to the nomination categories for Mr Trivia's Curmudgeon Awards 2009. Go over to the other blog and see what all the fuss is about.

Elevate the Insignificant

Mr Trivia

None Shall Sleep

2009-08-15T00:27:00.010+08:00

For reasons that I don’t wish to fully disclose, I’ve only had two and a half hours of sleep (that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care). I pulled a massive all-nighter and worked on a project for 32 hours straight. Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.

And as I worked and occasionally cat-napped over my computer, I found the effects of sleep deprivation were interesting. Interesting in a – I wish this was happening to someone else – kind of way, but the situation and the attendant pain were self-inflicted, so I can't whinge here.

The music from the computer was turned up loud in a misguided attempt to keep me from nodding off. And yet every hour or so I woke in the midst of an 80s or 90s pop song like My Sharona from THE KNACK, wondering what the hell I was doing .

Every time it took me 5 to 10 seconds to pull together the threads. “You’re writing an article, and you are looking to intersperse this paragraph of interview with biographical information to give this some context. The last sentence you worked on is HERE.”

It wasn’t an intelligent working model, but even I could see the wheels were falling off around Hour 27 after I woke from what might have been a three minute nap. I was slumped in my chair with THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS’ Lincoln blaring out at me. I was struck by the lyrics from Track 1 - Ana Ang - as they entered my semi-consciousness. “Who was at the Dupont Pavillion, why was the bench still warm, who had been there?” I knew the answer. After 20 years, I knew.

It was Cosmo Kramer from SEINFELD. And what's more, TMBG’s musical agenda perfectly synched with Kramer’s life philosophy. The optimism. The randomness. The 1964 world’s Fair. Which… was in New York… where Kramer also lives. TMBG were his hipster dufus backing band. It was match made in heaven. And then unbidden I visualised Oreos on a dinner plate. It all meant something...

Even though I was awake, I felt I wasn’t too far from dreaming. I was experiencing something akin to the feeling you get when you wake from a proper night’s sleep and stride out into the kitchen thinking, “Yes, must take the new Cadillac for a spin down the Old Coast Road – even though I’ve never owned a Cadillac and drive a 1997 Toyota Liteace van.” Then the disappointment hits as you slip from the netherworld of alpha waves and into the daylight.

Yes, I see now that the beautiful ‘cosmic’ link that I made with Kramer and THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS was tenuous at best. But it felt right. For one brief shining moment, Camelot, baby.

‘Night!

Mr Trivia

ABOVE: Image of They Might Be Giants

For more TMBG images go here.
For some images of the 1964/65 World's Fair go here.

Re-Branding

2009-08-13T01:35:00.008+08:00

Zeitgeisters,

I was in the supermarket yesterday deciding whether I could be brilliant with 800 grams of chicken and how many meals I could spread it over. I examined my Inner-Donna-Hay and thought about the staggering array of recipes that I have on hand IN MY MIND at any given moment of the day.

Pasta - check. Curry - check. Hmmm oh yes... then some bold and surprising combinations a la TV's Surprise Chef. Remember how Chef Aristos would turn up in a supermarket and transform the contents of some Hapless Bystander's shopping trolley into a meal fit for a segment of a network television show?

And we'd watch as the Hapless Bystander family chowed down on Ice-Cream Poulet au Gratin or something similarly domestic but with a daring tinge that was all Aristos. I found myself thinking about Aristos Papandroulakis and wondering why he wasn't back on our screens, yet. Yield, gods of telly - YIELD!

A woman was standing next to me, also deep in apparent thought, when her daughter - who looked as old as eight - whipped a packet into position right under her mother's nose and said, “Mum, can we have some Nitro Cream?”

Mum went through what we scholars call a paradigm shift as she peered at the box. “This is Nutri-Grain,” she said with a slight undertone that could have been about her child’s reading abilities or perhaps some other family member who is cavalierly misnaming popular items of the Kellogg product line and confusing the kiddies. I didn’t see him there, but my money is on the dad.

Elevate the Insignificant,

Mr Trivia