Dad Joke 2

By Gerald Fie

> Some people need "discipline" others need the letter "c".
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Okay, Zeitgeisters, that’s as shallow an attention-grabbing start as one could ever want, but I really want to know. And sure, I’m really talking about Josh Lyman’s hair. (I’m like one of those people who insist on calling an actor by their character’s name – only in reverse. e.g. “Go Knight Boat!”) Whitford plays Deputy Chief of Staff, Josh Lyman, in the Aaron Sorkin -created, NBC television series The West Wing . He plays this part to a tee and now he’s set to do great things in the new Sorkin drama, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip . I know this last bit because the Angriest Ex-Video Store Clerk in the world told me. Oh, and Whitford ’s married to the awesome Jane Kaczmarek who plays mom, Lois, in the series Malcolm in the Middle. So Mr Whitford’s your regular pop-cultural icon and yardstick for excellence. We’re here in this, frankly, puzzling cultural landscape, because I’ve just finished watching season four of The West Wing on DVD. And Josh Lyman’s hair has bothered me througho...
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Celebrating AFHVS

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And Zeitgeisters, if you don’t know what AFHVS stands for, you’ll be stunned to discover it means Australia’s Funniest Home Video Show (Nine Network). And yes. AFHVS is mediocre, mainstream, middle-of-the-road and vanilla. Or is it? (I learnt that little technique in high school debating.) No, it’s actually bold, ground-breaking and revolutionary. “And why the hell is that. Mr Trivia?” I hear you ask. Let us rewind to a recent Saturday. Witness the following: video-tape of a middle-aged couple sitting on a porch swing. Naturally, they swing back and forth. And like everyone else, I was thinking, yep, them chains is gonna bust and them two is gonna end up on th’floor! (Sorry , I’ve been watching the The Andy Griffith Show on Access 31). However, totally against all expectations, a dog leapt up and one of the couple fell out of the swing! That chain was supposed to break! After fifteen years of AFHVS there was nothing else that the chain could do, but break. It was a certa...
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Institutional Memory

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Volkswagen Tiguan - Tiger plus Iguana. Zeitgeisters, it’s well known that car-names are getting zanier. After more than half a century of mass-produced vehicles with snappy ‘handles’, automobile manufacturers have been left scraping for attractive and engaging names. In Australia, Ford is the most sober of the players with the Focus as the only slightly poetic and evocative entry in the Fird range. Misubishi has the Triton and the Grandis . At first these two seem to work on Jerry Seinfeld’s theory that car companies make-up words that sound like real ones – a la the Integra . However Triton is a moon of Neptune (yeah, me either) and Grandis is Latin for big, so, some of these made-up words turn out to be gaps in my education. Holden, or GM to you outside of Oz, has a great roster of pointless names. Although Caprice is a sudden impulse and Viva means live; Tigra , Ventra , Vectra and Adventra all come off as half-baked. Adventra ? Come on, Holden! I guess it’s not...
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The Wheels of Perth City

By Gerald Fie
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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 t...
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Other People's Ringtones

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Guten Abend Zeitgeisters, I work in an open plan office (it’s a loft or mezzanine style of thing) and it is a common occurrence to hear other people's mobile phones going off. Graeme downstairs has a “My Sharona” ringtone and Liz, with whom I share my office, has a Madonna ringtone. Like any other oft-heard sound, these cut into my brain like brick-saw into concrete. To be fair, my own ringtone is just as bad. If you have a Nokia 3120 , then you can sample the twittering cacophony that is “Urgency”. Imagine the sound of a finch caught on a length of razor wire, then amplify it. What I love is the reaction when anyone hears it for the first time. “Is that your ringtone?” they ask, as though I might have programmed it by accident. I have very purposely chosen a high, “top-endy” sound so it cuts through the background noise. I propose a new piece of cell phone etiquette. Much in the same way that one doesn’t comment on how other people raise their children – especially not ...
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Gorby's back in the day, rockin' hard at the 2006 Million Paws March, St James Mitchell Park, South Perth. Or maybe not. Zeitgeisters, I’m afraid the rumours are true. My band, Dancing With Gorbachev (DWG) have split, owing to irreconcilable indifference on the part of Society. Was our rock too confronting? Was our truth too hard to bear? Were our harmonies just too sweet? The best review we ever got was this: “Youse guys are 100% uncompromising, four on the floor, straight down the line, meat and potatoes, balls to the wall, pedal to the metal, rock and f**king roll.” That was our drummer Vik Suprotik’s gran. Thanks for that! Let me leave you with the lyrics to a song that Pedrag, Zlatko and I wrote. It’s in the style of Cheap Trick’s “Dream Police”. It’s called “Depthy”. It’s time to put out the garbage. It’s time to put out the trash. Say goodbye to yesteryear. And flick off the cigarette’s ash. Goodbye you losers, We’re so dep-thy! Goodbye kind friends, W...
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Hey Zeitgeisters, Yep, well I’ve been away. Touring. Me and Porter (my ventriloquist dummy) were doing some shows in the Northern suburbs of Perth. Warwick. Greenwood. Balcatta. We cooked, man. We did this bit about how Kevin Rudd and John Howard were basically the same guy. It totally killed. Every night. Okay. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been Facebooking. I was actually a little bit addicted for awhile, but now I’ve got it under control. I think. At first I thought I might have to spend a lengthy period in a Californian rehab facility to pull through, but apparently a couple of weeks is all you need to fix you up. (Yep, its a barely-there Ben Cousins gag.) So I’ve been wasting time on Facebook when there was important blogging to be done for the war effort. I might spiel in more detail about this insidious data mining tool for the CIA (see my friend Rex’s spiel on the Monopoly Men site) but for now I’d like to share a prize piece of BS I turned up, whilst cruising t...
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