It seems impossible, nowadays, to wipe your arse without someone from the fine NSW police force wanting to stick their big snout in and ensure you’re doing it ‘by the book’.
Gone are the days when a copper might let you off with a warning, far the opposite, they are actively looking to find a crime, even in the absence of one and seem completely frustrated when they find you to be a responsible, law abiding citizen.
I remember a story an uncle told me about the early 80s. So it goes that he made the drive from Sydney to Melbourne, in a mini and blind drunk. But, he assured me, “you could do that in those days”.
Right he was, you could. Don’t let it be said I am an advocate for drunk driving, simply using the story to illustrate a point; that if you could get away with an 8 hour high-speed drive then you could certainly avoid the mundane, unwarranted and unnecessary harassment of the boys in blue if you, as I am any time it happens, within the bounds of the law.
I remember one instance I was low on fuel and had a big drive the next day. The petrol station in my town was closed so, with the little bowser flashing, we made the tedious and risky drive to Orange, some 27 kms away.
In a small town along the way there were around 12 police cars lining either side of the narrow road. As the bank was full I didn’t get ushered in and thought id made it through by some miracle for one baring the dreaded red P plate.
Of course a sleek red highway patrol car was flashing its lights to me by the time id reached the towns limit. I pulled over and the bull headed officer approached.
Now, keep in mind I was 17 at this time. He asked me to get out of the car and show my license and pink slip. I did so and it seemed he wanted to have me out of the way, to inspect the car for the bounty of heroin I might be chartering.
With the breath test out of the way, the fine officer seemed disgruntled that there was no dirt on me. He dug further. Asking me about my drug past, as a consequence of the apparent drug raid they were doing on the district.
Had I smoked pot?
Not in around 6 years.
Pills?
Nope.
Speed?
Nope.
Then he took a shot in the dark.
Heroin?
No, I laughed.
Of course, by then I was only being half honest, but what did he expect.
Do you do heroin or meth?
Why yes officer, I have been up 72 hours and you might want to check my boot as I have around 14 kg, give or take, of fine uncut China White in there.
Gimme a fucking break.
It wasn’t the first time it has happened and it certainly won’t be the last, but finally out of options he let me go.
I think the problem is inadequate training and a fair whack of stupidity, but what can be done, after all, they run the show…
This won’t be the last of it, I shall blog to this effect a few more times in the coming weeks.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
On Ads, Abs, Flab and Fads.
A note on the popular media.
I know its not just me. You switch on the television for a relaxing afternoon of mindless programming, and are struck, each few minutes with one of a few ads. They are, roughly, life insurance, dieting supplements or systems, exercise equipment or anti-wrinkle treatments.
So, as a textbook application of audience considered marketing, you wind up thinking about what a fat, ugly piece of shit you are and how death is just around the corner.
It is perhaps a natural choice for advertisers to peddle this kind of thing to those who watch television and not, say, in gyms or health food stores. But come the fuck on!
I can understand one life-insurance ad, but having the constant thought of death circling you does not inspire someone, especially someone in their twenties, to go out and consider their responsibility so much as it inspires deep depression and reflection on a common truth that would be more comfortable in a neglected corner of one’s brain. Try that, as a side dish, with your morning regimen of the Flintstones.
The other thing is the ridiculousness of these ads; the ab-tronic, ab-swing, ab-circle, ab-longue absolutely ridiculous. When did we get concerned that our abs are the problem, and not say, our Dominoes or KFC (Which has the added ridiculous notion in a recent campaign, that it has the sterling seal of approval from Olympic athletes, if you eat KFC you’re more likely to compete for a bed in hospital than at the Olympic Games).
It’s a cause and effect situation, have your pizza and eat it too, have your ab wonder machine, and hopefully use it too. Basically, dear citizens, if you get nice and fat on wonderful, cheap and convenient fast food, you might also expect to have washboard chests and tight arses. There is something out there for everyone.
The anti-wrinkle ads also border on the absurd. One is for a fine product called ”Skin venom”, now, it could be me, but why on earth would I regularly apply something with venom in its title.
Of course there is a smattering of baldness ads too, after all who doesn’t want to look in their twenties all the time? The fact that none of this shit has been credited as working by anyone who means anything, and it is insanely expensive shouldn’t matter. Who can put a price on eternal youth?
The fact is, these ads are unfounded, they are constant and all seem to be pushing the idea that you are not good as you are. The generation that holds any stock in them is the generation who set themselves up for years of trying to swim upstream against aging and better themselves consistently. Why can’t anyone be happy as themselves? Why do we all need these crazy products to perfect everything about ourselves? To make the standards ever higher.
Of course, while annoying, there is nothing I can do about it. Maybe people don’t care as much as I did, but to them I ask:
Where did all the funny beer ads go?
I know its not just me. You switch on the television for a relaxing afternoon of mindless programming, and are struck, each few minutes with one of a few ads. They are, roughly, life insurance, dieting supplements or systems, exercise equipment or anti-wrinkle treatments.
So, as a textbook application of audience considered marketing, you wind up thinking about what a fat, ugly piece of shit you are and how death is just around the corner.
It is perhaps a natural choice for advertisers to peddle this kind of thing to those who watch television and not, say, in gyms or health food stores. But come the fuck on!
I can understand one life-insurance ad, but having the constant thought of death circling you does not inspire someone, especially someone in their twenties, to go out and consider their responsibility so much as it inspires deep depression and reflection on a common truth that would be more comfortable in a neglected corner of one’s brain. Try that, as a side dish, with your morning regimen of the Flintstones.
The other thing is the ridiculousness of these ads; the ab-tronic, ab-swing, ab-circle, ab-longue absolutely ridiculous. When did we get concerned that our abs are the problem, and not say, our Dominoes or KFC (Which has the added ridiculous notion in a recent campaign, that it has the sterling seal of approval from Olympic athletes, if you eat KFC you’re more likely to compete for a bed in hospital than at the Olympic Games).
It’s a cause and effect situation, have your pizza and eat it too, have your ab wonder machine, and hopefully use it too. Basically, dear citizens, if you get nice and fat on wonderful, cheap and convenient fast food, you might also expect to have washboard chests and tight arses. There is something out there for everyone.
The anti-wrinkle ads also border on the absurd. One is for a fine product called ”Skin venom”, now, it could be me, but why on earth would I regularly apply something with venom in its title.
Of course there is a smattering of baldness ads too, after all who doesn’t want to look in their twenties all the time? The fact that none of this shit has been credited as working by anyone who means anything, and it is insanely expensive shouldn’t matter. Who can put a price on eternal youth?
The fact is, these ads are unfounded, they are constant and all seem to be pushing the idea that you are not good as you are. The generation that holds any stock in them is the generation who set themselves up for years of trying to swim upstream against aging and better themselves consistently. Why can’t anyone be happy as themselves? Why do we all need these crazy products to perfect everything about ourselves? To make the standards ever higher.
Of course, while annoying, there is nothing I can do about it. Maybe people don’t care as much as I did, but to them I ask:
Where did all the funny beer ads go?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Rating Cartoon Women.
It seems at least somewhat likely that most young men around my age, the “Cartoon Age”, have at some point wished the lustful chicks in cartoons were real.
It seems lust for these animated women stems from a few things:
1.They’re always there- Lois never goes to work (or if she does we go with her) , Marge never hits the town or a holiday spot without us. They are on the television most days for our viewing pleasure, and over an average childhood we rack up countless hours of quality time with them.
2. They’re all the same- cartoon wives and mothers never have bad hair days, never get fat, always seem to be made up. They’re perfectly the same down to the outfits.
If you’re as sexually repressed as I then these fictitious women have no doubt become some kind of weird fantasy to you. So, if they made the jump to the world of flesh and bone, who would be the best to court? I have run through a quick list of pros and cons for each of them as a potential mate, partner and kindred soul.
Lois Griffin:
Pros: Lois is probably the most physically attractive of the bunch, also the kinkiest and overtly sexual, is kind of a cheerleader who certainly knows how to party. Despite this she does hold a certain caring and sensible nature.
Cons: That voice is the worst, really nagging and can be kind of a bitch.
Peggy Hill:
Pros: There aren’t many. However, she is smart, financially sensible and independent.
Cons: Fairly unattractive, preachy, nagging, egotistical and overly difficult to get along with.
Leela and Amy:
Pros: Leela is basically super-hot, even for a one eyed chick. Amy is likewise fairly hot and has a schoolgirl way about her. Plus they’re from the future, which is just awesome.
Cons: Leela is a tad muscular, could probably beat the shit out of you, has a bad attitude. Amy is annoyingly stupid.
Marge Simpson:
Pros: By far the cartoon queen. A great mother, hot with some kind of sex appeal, unique hairdo, a good wife, insanely tolerant who will always play the Danny Glover to your Mel Gibson (Assuming they were gay and MG didn’t hate black guys).
Cons: Really badgering, kind of boring and has a succession of crazy childhood dreams.
I suppose the only logical conclusion is that Marge would win on the wife and companion fronts, Lois, Leila and Amy would be sexually fulfilling and Peggy is just plain bad. But make up your own mind….
NP.
It seems lust for these animated women stems from a few things:
1.They’re always there- Lois never goes to work (or if she does we go with her) , Marge never hits the town or a holiday spot without us. They are on the television most days for our viewing pleasure, and over an average childhood we rack up countless hours of quality time with them.
2. They’re all the same- cartoon wives and mothers never have bad hair days, never get fat, always seem to be made up. They’re perfectly the same down to the outfits.
If you’re as sexually repressed as I then these fictitious women have no doubt become some kind of weird fantasy to you. So, if they made the jump to the world of flesh and bone, who would be the best to court? I have run through a quick list of pros and cons for each of them as a potential mate, partner and kindred soul.
Lois Griffin:
Pros: Lois is probably the most physically attractive of the bunch, also the kinkiest and overtly sexual, is kind of a cheerleader who certainly knows how to party. Despite this she does hold a certain caring and sensible nature.
Cons: That voice is the worst, really nagging and can be kind of a bitch.
Peggy Hill:
Pros: There aren’t many. However, she is smart, financially sensible and independent.
Cons: Fairly unattractive, preachy, nagging, egotistical and overly difficult to get along with.
Leela and Amy:
Pros: Leela is basically super-hot, even for a one eyed chick. Amy is likewise fairly hot and has a schoolgirl way about her. Plus they’re from the future, which is just awesome.
Cons: Leela is a tad muscular, could probably beat the shit out of you, has a bad attitude. Amy is annoyingly stupid.
Marge Simpson:
Pros: By far the cartoon queen. A great mother, hot with some kind of sex appeal, unique hairdo, a good wife, insanely tolerant who will always play the Danny Glover to your Mel Gibson (Assuming they were gay and MG didn’t hate black guys).
Cons: Really badgering, kind of boring and has a succession of crazy childhood dreams.
I suppose the only logical conclusion is that Marge would win on the wife and companion fronts, Lois, Leila and Amy would be sexually fulfilling and Peggy is just plain bad. But make up your own mind….
NP.
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