From an article in the Australian newspaper The Age:
Taking photographs that could “humanise or personalise” asylum seekers was banned by former defence minister Peter Reith’s office, the Senate inquiry into children-overboard claims was told yesterday.
People who issue such orders have “de-humanised” themselves. As far as I’m concerned, Peter Reith and company have effectively revoked their memberships in the human race.
I say we scrap these fucknozzles for parts.
Make that lyric of the year:
“I’ve enough hope to float an ocean liner…”
(from Lindi’s song, Many Moons)
It’s that time of the month again….
I think it might be time to do the Eric Cartman version of Styx’s Come Sail Away.
Yesterday in Toronto, it was a sunny day with summer-like temperatures in the high 20’s (that’s low-to-mid 80’s for those of you who think in degrees Fahrenheit). People hit my neighbourhood — Queen Street West, the bar/boutique/broadcasting part of town — in droves, wearing short sleeves, shorts and tank tops. Every sidewalk cafe and bar patio was packed well into the evening, and any band who had a gig last night played to a full house.
That morning, I’d received an e-mail from an old supervisor of mine who needed a programmer to do some short-term but lucrative contract work. I had a great meeting with him that afternoon to discuss the project, and pending approval from his client, I could be starting in a couple of days. Apparently the pharmaceutical companies have just discovered computers and the Internet, and they have scads of cash to spend on software and Internet projects. I’m more than happy to help lighten the burden of having all that moolah.
After a quick “victory dinner”, I hit the streets with my accordion and got some busking in. With the throngs on Queen Street, I made that evening’s drinking money, handed out my phone number to various people who want me to show up at their parties, got a free pint of Guinness and worked on my rendition of the White Stripes’ Fell In Love with a Girl.
Then, a trip to the gym. I never thought I’d see the day when I was a regular in a weight room. I have to agree with Arnie: the best part is “the pohmp“.
While at the gym, Will and I were talking about making alcohol versions of bubble tea.
“The problem is that bubble tea takes so long to drink,” he said. “It’s too big a drink for there to be a practical way to sell an alcoholic version.”
“I’ve got it — how ’bout putting it in a martini glass and make bubbletinis? With the tapioca balls at the bottom, instead of olives or pearl onions?”
I think we’ve struck gold here, folks.
That was followed by a run home for a quick shower, followed by a little more busking outside the Horseshoe Tavern to join my friends Will and Tina, where someone invited me to make an appearance at her show, and then inside to see Tuuli, the all-girl power-punk-pop band who are oh-so-cute and have-oh-so-catchy tunes. They sounded put on a great show before a full house. I’m definitely buying their CD when it comes out next week. Now if I can only convince them to wrestle with me in a kiddie pool full of creamed corn, I can die a very happy and sticky man. How ’bout it, ladies?
After the Tuuli show, I collected the “sweaty hugs” that the band promised to the audience (and to offer my accordion backup services). Then we were off to the Bovine Sex Club to hang out and play pool (very poorly, I might add). Will had his usual — a glass of warm water. It takes balls to order that at a place that’s liberally decorated with empty Jagermeister bottles.
“I don’t drink,” he said, “and cold water is bad for you.”
Some guy saw the accordion on my back and invited me to do the between-set music at his stand-up comedy revue at the Poor Alex Theatre.
“I saw you and thought to myself ‘if he’s got an accordion at the Bovine, he must be into comedy,” he said.
After last call, we walked through the still-warm night to Happy Seven for some late-night Chinese food and conversation. We came up with a great name for Will’s band — Cockpunch — and Tina went on about how easily amused she was and shocking it was that she had hardly anything to drink that night.
“She’s off the booze and high on life,” I said, making hand motions suggesting the layout of a newspaper headline.
“Write that about me and you’re dead,” she retorted.
After that, I gave them a quick tour of Casa di AccordionGuy, after which they headed home.
I looked at the clock. 4:30 a.m. Considering I was up at 8:30 that morning, I figured it was a good time to turn in.
From an article in the New York Times:
Asked whether the administration now recognizes Mr. Chávez as Venezuela’s legitimate president, one administration official replied, “He was democratically elected,” then added, “Legitimacy is something that is conferred not just by a majority of the voters, however.”
Of course, favouring dictatorships over democracies when it serves their needs is nothing new for the U.S., or even the Bushes. In the 1970s, the was the overthrow of Chile’s government by the CIA.
In the 1980s, then-Vice President George Bush the Elder toasted the opposition-jailing, martial-law declaring, IMF-fund-for-the-poor-embezzling, media-censoring, election-rigging president of my home country, Ferdinand Marcos, for his “adherence to democratic principles”. At the time, the U.S. maintained two vital bases in the Philippines (Clark Air Base and Subic Naval Base) and it was also the home-away-from-home for the Navy’s 7th Fleet.
It just makes me want to say kantutin mo ang nanay mo. Beeyotch.
Such as Zooko’s and Jill’s visits to Toronto, the Lindi gig at C’est What, and all kinds of other happenings, but it’s a gorgeous day in Toronto today. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and it’s 28 degrees Celsius (that’s 82 degrees Fahrenheit for my American friends) outside! The Queen Street girls have already switched to tank tops and shorts, so I’m wasting time just sitting here and typing this in.
Besides, not only did I have a big client meeting today, I even built a quick-and-dirty prototype to prove that the program could be built in timely fashion, thus making a nice little pay-my-immediate-bills short-term contract very likely (I’d give myself 9 in 10 odds of getting it). I’ve earned a little bit of a life this evening. It’s time to haul out the accordion and busk.
All you programmers that are in the same nice weather bubble as Toronto (or experiencing a similarly glorious day): I strongly suggest you shut off the machine and go outside and experience the fully-immersive zillions-of-polygons interactive experience out there.
I don’t think the non-programmers out there need to be told that.
…is my buddy George Scriban, who calls “shenanigans” on the RIAA. He says that it’s price-fixing by the record labels and the disappearance of the single (in the hopes of forcing customers to buy the entire album) — not Internet piracy — that’s hurting music sales. And he’s got proof:
On CD singles:
since 1997, shipments of CD singles have free-fallen from over 66 million units to 17 million — they now represent less than one percent of the total dollar value of all CDs sold. had CD singles represented as much of the overall market as they did in 1997 (the peak of the format, with 66.7 million units shipped), the major labels might well have seen a modest increase in music sales compared to 2000, rather than a drop.
On price fixing:
from 1992-96, a period that saw cut-throat price competiton from discount retailers like Best Buy and Target, sales of CDs grew 371 million units (from 400 million units to nearly 780 million units). once the labels started to enforce “minimum advertised pricing” (MAP) on the retailers, that sales growth started to slow. the RIAA reports that from 1996 to 2001, annual sales went from 780 million to 880 million units, an increase of only 100 million CDs in five years.
I think he’s on to something here, and so do bOINGbOING and Good Morning Silicon Valley. George’s insight and Mack Daddy Right-On-ness are why I love working with the guy.
Slashdot now points to George’s cool chart on price fixing. Now the record industry’s dirty little lie is exposed to the geekiverse, and George got his first slashdotting to boot!
Welcome to the ranks of the Masters of the Online Universe, George. Somebody buy this man a filet mignon on a flaming sword!
