The best advertising tag I've heard in some time…

… was on television when we were in Hobart last week. The ad was for fresh foodstuffs, and the tag was;

"Fresh food. Life insurance you can eat."

Clever.

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 ...

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.

Something fishy here.

S brought this to my attention: I was too busy melting to notice, but I do agree with her.

The caption under this photo was, "Fisherman hooks monster shark in rubber dinghy." The error was compounded by the headline in the attendant article: "Man catches bronze whaler in dinghy"

This, of course, begs the question: what was the shark doing in a rubber dinghy?

I suppose it's possible it can't swim, and needs a boat to get around? Was the dinghy actually owned by the shark, or had it stolen it? Perhaps it has seen the movie, "Jaws", and is afraid to go in the water? Maybe the shark had embraced technology and the dinghy was equipped with a fish finder, and the poor creature was only looking for lunch? Being a bronze whaler, could it have been trying to maintain the image of the bronzed Aussie? Or could it have been a cast member of "Westside Story" just looking to spend a little time on the water?

Even if we never find an answer to this conundrum, one thing is absolutely certain. At the end of this saga, something is going to end up battered. It'll just be a toss up which will be more so: the fish or the grammar.

On the tip of your tongue.

We're all familiar with Peter Piper and his peck of pickled peppers, the wood chucking woodchuck and the pheasant plucker. Tongue twisters which are relatively easy to master and give us a sense of achievement when we do. But, here are some tongue twisters to really give your tongue a hernia, coutesy of the maestro of the tongue himself, Mr. Danny Kaye.

Okay, take a deep breath. Ready? Begin!

Moses supposes his toeses are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously. For Moses he knowses his toeses ain't roses that Moses supposes his toeses to be.

How did you go? That was a simple one just to warm you up. Ready for the next one?

Now, Kissle will whistle at busty Miss. Russell who'll rustle and bustle till Kissle will roar, so Russell asked Axle for Kissle's dismissal and this'll teach Kissle to whistle no more.

Okay, your tongue should be pretty limber by now. Let's continue.

Tito and Tato were tattooed in total, but Toto was only tattooed on his toes, so Tato told Tito where Toto was tattooed but Tito said Toto's tattoo wouldn't show.

That's the easy part over. You might want to call in a physiotherapist for the next lot.

Theda thought Thora was thumping her thimble but Thomas thought Thora was thumping her drum, so if Theda thought Thora's not thumping her thimble, I think that she surely is thumping her thumb.

Coming up is the assault course, so I'll let you catch your breath before we continue.

Okay, times up! Ready, set, go!

Now, Charley is chary when choosing his cheeses and cheese is a challenge when Charley arrives. When Charley is charming and chooses a cheddar then chews it and chips it and chops in some chives.

Heda is hoping to hop to Tahiti to hack a hibiscus to hang on her hat. Now, Heda has hundreds of hats on her hatrack, so how can a hop to Tahiti help that?

Warning! The next section should only be attempted by professionals or serving members of the SAS.

Snobby Miss. Nora is sniffing her snuffer, the snuffer’s no sniffing it makes Nora sneeze. When Snyda lets Nort know his Nora is sneezing, she snappily snorts Nora’s sneezing a breeze.

Sheila is selling her shop at the seashore for shops at the seashore are so sure to lose, and she’s not so sure of what she should be selling. Should Sheila sell seashells or should she sell shoes?

Did you survive? Or does your tongue feel like it's pulled it's muscle? Not to worry. Keep practising these until you get them down pat, and you'll be able to amaze your friends with your dexterity.

In the beginning ...

... there was an amorphous blob of melted lard wishing everyone a happy New Year.

Felice Navidad.

Dance like no one is watching.

Something to make you smile.

Just a minute.

You know when somebody comes up to you seeking your assistance with something, and they ask if you've got a minute and you say, "Yeah, sure", what happens to that minute?

Is it lost forever? Are our lives shortened by all those minutes we've given away? Should we be asking for minutes from other people so we can recoup our losses, and thereby balance the books? And who do we ask for our minutes back? The person who originally took yours, or will anybody do? Can we claim interest on minutes that haven't been repaid in a timely fashion, say for every minute owed we get one minute and six seconds back?

Was just wondering.

What kind of sauce would you like on that?

This is a tale about a barbecued leg. Not a leg of lamb or beef as one might expect, but a leg of Wood; John Wood, to be precise.

In 2004, John Wood of South Carolina, U.S.A., was in a plane crash. His injuries were such that doctors were forced to amputate his leg. Being somewhat (up until that time, at least) attached to his leg, Mr. Wood asked that he keep the limb and get it embalmed and preserved, so that when he finally shuffles off this mortal coil he could be cremated as a complete set (Some assembly required). Apparently, he was able to find an obliging mortician, and get the procedure done.

Next comes the problem of where to keep the leg. I have no idea what was going on in Mr. Wood's head, but he finally decided to put the appendage inside a barbecue, which he subsequently moved into a self-storage unit. It hasn't really been explained how he came to that decision, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer the following possible scenario.

Mr. Wood comes home clutching his leg to his chest. Mrs. Wood takes one look and states categorically that she will not be living under the same roof as that. It was fine when it was attached to Mr. Wood, but now it would be just too freaky. To appease his wife, Mr. Wood takes the leg out to the garage thinking that at least out of sight, out of mind. Looking around for a safe place, he spies the barbecue, makes the mental "barbecue/leg" connection, and voila! Problem solved. Except that Mrs. Wood sees what he has done, and puts her foot down, saying that she doesn't want his leg anywhere near the house, and that he can also get rid of the barbecue as she sure as hell wasn't ever going to eat anything cooked on that. So to keep the peace - and the piece - and his legs together, more or less, Mr. Wood hits upon the notion of a self-storage unit.

This appears to be a satisfactory arrangement until Mr. Wood allows the lease payments on his storage unit to lapse. The owner of the facility, in order to recoup his losses, seizes all of Mr. Wood's possessions, including the barbecue housing the Wood leg, and proceeds to have what amounts to a garage sale. Along comes Shannon Whisnant who purchases the barbecue and takes it home. I can imagine his surprise when he discovered it came with an extra leg.

At first, Mr. Whisnant didn't want any part of the leg, nor any other body part, for that matter, so he hot-footed it over to the phone and called in the long arm of the law to take it away. But, being a small town, news about the unusual find quickly got around and people started legging it over to Mr. Whisnant's place to check out the leg. Seeing what he considered a golden opprtunity, and not one to look a gift leg in the shin, Mr. Whisnant decided to display the leg for Halloween - at a price. $3.00 per adult, $1.00 per child.

Naturally, word soon reached the ears of Mr. Wood, who understandably wanted his appendage back as he didn't feel complete without it. Mr. Whisnant refused to toe the line, and the leg suddenly became a bone of contention. Mr. Wood was hopping mad, and for three years they kicked the question of ownership through the courts. Eventually it was decided that, LEGally speaking, Mr. Whisnant didn't really have a leg to stand on, and the limb should be returned to its original owner.

And no, I'm not pulling your leg. This story is true.

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm ...

This happened quite some time ago, but it has given me pause every now and then.

The highway at the end of our street is usually heavy with traffic and at certain times can be almost impossible to enter, let alone cross over to go in the other direction. To facilitate the people who live in the streets running off the highway, there is a side road which allows access; what they call a service road. With the help of the mud map on the left, I'll try and explain what happened on this day.

My normal practice, when approaching the highway from our street, is to pull up at the stop sign, make sure no one is coming down the service road, then proceed across the service road, stop where the blue "X" is and wait until there is a sufficient break in the traffic to allow me onto the highway. All done in a reasonably fluid motion.

On this particular day, for some reason I stopped at the stop sign and stayed there, even though nothing was coming down the service road. I must have sat there for at least half a minute before realising where I was. I thought to myself "What am I sitting here for?" and prepared to move off when a car driving along the highway suddenly locked its brakes and skidded into the spot where I would normally have been sitting waiting. It quickly became obvious that the woman driving the other car had realised she was going to miss the turn off and had slammed on her brakes in an attempt to still make it. All I could think of was that where she had stopped her slide was where I would have been if, for some reason, I hadn't been sitting at the stop sign daydreaming.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Ratatouille.

S, E and I went to the movies last night and saw Ratatouille, the latest offering from the Disney/Pixar studios. A terrific movie!

It's a tale about Remy, a rat with big ideas of becoming a cook. Strange, I know. I mean, when you think about it, you couldn't have two more diametrically opposed ingredients; rat and food. Not a good combination you would think. But Disney has pulled it off with aplomb.

The characterisations are fabulous, with wonderful vocal performances by Ian Holm, Peter O'Toole, Patton Oswalt, Janeane Garofolo, Lou Romano, Brian Dennehey and Pixar stalwart, John Ratzenberger. Add to the mix Pixar's usual excellent animation, a well structured storyline, a lively score, and you are served up a feast that is sure to satisfy even the most critical appetite.

This is by far the best animated feature I have seen in a long time. There are some periods of the film where the background movement and scenery almost takes away from the main action, it is that realistic. The storyline might be a little old for young children, but there is a generous helping of slapstick with will serve to hold their attention. For we older children, there's a good message in there, as well. Certainly worth going to see.

Oh! By the way ...

... I'd like to draw your attention to my new blog, "Writing The Image". It's a new attempt to get me back into the habit of writing, and although it's early days, I think it might be the kick start I need.

Please do visit.