VIOLATED!

Upheaval in the Crookedpaw household last night, as I came home to discover we had been burgled! Drawers and cupboards riffled through, their contents tossed on the floor. A possibility I may have just missed the bastard/s.

They took some cash and decimated S's jewellery - some valuable in a monetary sense, all of it priceless sentimentally. Strangely, they left other things untouched. Nothing electrical - TV's, videos, digital cameras, computers, etc - was taken. Nor were any CD's or DVD's. And our little furry person, Matilda, was unharmed.

Of course, our concern now is that they may try a return visit as they've seen what we've got. We will be talking to the neighbours, asking them to keep an eye out over the next few days. Meantime, security will be enhanced. And over the next three weeks or so, we'll be visiting the local Cash Converters stores on the off chance of spotting some of S's jewellery. Some of it is very unique and distinctive.

S is staying home from work today, awaiting a call from detectives, and we are studiously avoiding touching many of the smooth drawer surfaces the invader/s obviously touched, in the hopes they may have left a fingerprint or three.

I know, compared to others, what happened to us was minor, but that doesn't negate the feelings of helplessness, anger and the sense of being physically violated. And, quite frankly, my feelings toward the person/s responsible for these emotions are somwhat less than charitable.

And should I catch them ...

Refining The Resolutions.

Nearly three weeks into the New Year, and I'm wondering how many resolutions have already been abandoned.

You're probably familiar with Desiderata, the poem written in 1927. The title is latin for "Desired Things", and it embodies an inspirational text designed to better oneself: ideal for New Year resolutions. For those who don't know the poem, or have forgotten it, here it is:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even to the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;

they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals,

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love,

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

It's a great poem for sure, but I think it's a little too general: suitable for those who think they just need a bit of a tidy up all over. It doesn't serve the needs of those people who have decided to concentrate on just one thing which they feel really needs their attention.

Fortunately, for one group of New Year's resolvers at least, I found a poem which does exactly that.

So, for all those people whose New Year resolution was to lose some weight, I present to you --

DIETERATA

Go casually amid the health and fitness freaks,

and remember what peace there may be in lying down.

As far as possible, without surrender,

be on good terms with all joggers.

Carry your weight quietly and neatly,

and listen to others,

even the Weightwatchers;

they too have their mueslis.

Avoid loud and aggressive dieters,

for they are vexatious to the binge eater.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter,

for always there will be sleeker or faster persons than yourself.

Enjoy your telly as well as your banana lounge.

Keep interested in your own figure, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing silhouettes of time.

Exercise little caution at your business engagements,

for the world is full of free lunches.

But let this not blind you to what fibres there are.

Many persons strive for high cheekbones,

And everywhere life is full of aerobics.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign vegetarianism.

Neither be cynical about bean sprouts,

for in the face of all junk foods,

they are as digestible as grass.

Take kindly the counsel of your scales,

surrendering gracefully the jeans of youth.

Nurture strength of humour to shield you from sudden split seams.

But do not distress yourself with yoghurts;

many pig-outs are born of doughnut vans and bright pizza shops.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be generous to yourself.

You are a child of the one-size universe

no less than the 8's and 10's;

you have a right to be here.

And, whether or not your skin is clear,

No doubt your cellulite problem is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with your fridge,

whatever capacity it may be.

And whatever your cravings and appetites,

in the noisy confusion of life,

keep filling your stomach.

With all its spas, gymnasiums and cholesterol themes,

it is still an eater's world.

Be careful. Strive to be fed.

Happy New Year!

Tony Park Book Signing.

To promote the release of his latest book, Silent Predator, Tony Park will be at Dymocks, Doncaster Shoppingtown, on Wednesday, June 18 at 12:30pm, signing copies for people.

He's an interesting man, and this is a great opportunity to say hello to the writer that some are starting to call the new Wilbur Smith. It's a given that I'll be there.

My Youngest Son Came Home Today.

Written by Eric Bogle.

My youngest son came home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipes and drum beat out the time
While in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray
My youngest son came home today

My youngest son was a fine young man
With a wife, a daughter and two sons
A man he would have lived and died
Till by a bullet sanctified
Now he's a saint or so they say
They brought their young saint home today

Above the narrow Sydney streets
An Aussie sky looks down and weeps
At children's blood in gutters spilled
In dreams of freedom unfulfilled
As part of freedom's price to pay
My youngest son came home today

My youngest son came home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipe and drum beat out the time
While in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray
My youngest son came home today

And this time he's home to stay

LEST WE FORGET

An Engineers' Guide To Cats.

Thanks to Gina for alerting us to this.

As time goes by.

Some of the big-name music acts of the 60's and 70's are re-releasing their biggest hits, but they have slightly altered them, properly reflecting the passing of the years. Here are some of them.

• Hermans' Hermits: Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Walker.
• Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Hip?
• Ringo Starr: I Get By With A Little Help From Depends.
• The Who: Seniors Bus.
• Roberta Flack: The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face.
• Johnny Nash: I Can't See Clearly, Now.
• Paul McCartney & Wings: Bran On The Bun.
• Paul Simon: Fifty Ways To Lose Your Liver.
• Procul Harum: A Whiter Shade Of Hair.
• Leo Sayer: You Make Me Feel Like Napping.
• The Temptations: Papa's Got A Kidney Stone.
• ABBA: Denture Queen.
• Tony Orlando & Dawn: Knock Three Times (On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall).
• Helen Reddy: I Am Woman (Hear Me Snore).
• Leslie Gore: It's My Facelift.

"For Gods' sake, what is happening in this country?" Warning; strong language.

Those are the words of Lorraine Long, the head of the Medical Error Action Group (MEAG). I wouldn't be so polite.

Emerging news of possibly one of the most horrific incidences of ongoing medical malpractice and abuse at the hands of a doctor. This is so disgusting, I'm at a loss for words, I'm so angry.

Watch the spokesman (read Spin Doctor) for the Medical Board. You can see he knows there has been a major screw-up, but he isn't concerned with the monsters' victims. He's trying to measure his replies so as to not tarnish the reputations of the Medical Review Board. To my mind, this makes him as culpable as the creature performing the abuse.

Something is terribly wrong with the system, that's painfully obvious. And we need to make sure that all parties, from the so-called doctor right up to the New South Wales Minister for Health, are held to account. More than just the doctors' head needs to roll, and instead of the Medical Review Board worrying about preserving their own hides, how about they focus on saving the skins of the people at the mercy of this creature and others like him.

How the fuck can something like this happen in this country?

Greasy rider.

While perusing the weeks' newspapers on Saturday, looking for choice cuts for The Butcher Shop, I came across the photo on the left. It was sent to the Herald Sun by "Ben", who didn't want his real name used. The photo was taken by his wife. Apparently they were coming home from an Australia Day barbecue when they were treated to this sight.

This bloke was travelling along the Eastern Freeway at about 100 kilometres per hour (62 mph) with a barbecue strapped to his body. Check out the grill in front of his face.

So "Ben", being a civic minded person, showed the police the photo, as well as contacting the newspaper. Police confirmed they had seen the picture and, naturally, they were very interested in talking to this fellow. The article ended with the usual "if you have any information" etc.

Apparently somebody did have some information because the photo on the right appeared in the following days' paper.

Meet the rider. It seems his work and housemates recognised him in the first photo and gave him a hard time, teasing him no end, and who promptly dobbed him in to the appropriate authorites: the newspaper. He now reckons he has seen the error of his ways, finding all the attention too embarrassing. It seems he is also reconsidering the wisdom of transporting a two-seater couch on his bike some time before the barbecue.

He admits "I've been known to be a bit strange and to see things differently." Well, when you're looking through the bottom grate of a barbecue, I'd say that's a given.

But here's the really dumb thing. This bloke called himself "Stuart". Not his real name because he didn't want to be identified.

Oh boy.

Life in the not really fast lane.

I'm kind of hoping someone might know the answer to this one, as well.

Circumstances have come together in such a way that, for the time being, you are currently the only vehicle travelling along your side of a three-lane highway. You are driving in the middle lane. There is a car approaching the highway on a side road. The other car stops, then enters the highway.

Why, then, does the driver of the other vehicle feel that the only lane he can drive in is the one that you're already in? And why does he then slow down to 20 kilometres per hour below the speed limit, forcing you to change lanes to go past him?

Any suggestions would be gratefully accepted.

In space no one can hear you ...

Here's one for the astronauts amongst us.

If you're in your space capsule, floating about in zero gravity and you fart, will you be propelled forward?
I mean, this could be quite problematic, couldn't it? A good curry the night before, and you could be bouncing around inside the capsule doing a rather splendid impression of a balloon that has just been let go.

Just wondering.