58%

Just undertook "The Ultimate SFX TV Quiz", a CD-ROM produced as a freebie by "SFX" magazine. There were 15 rounds of 10 short-answer questions about various sci-fi shows, a bonus round of 20 short-answer questions about the five live-action "Star Trek" series, and three increasingly difficult rounds of 50 assorted "quickfire" multi-choice questions. I struggled with some of the old shows I barely saw as a child (eg. "Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea") and new shows that haven't made it here yet (eg. "Life On Mars"). The plethora of Gerry Anderson puppet series also proved as painful as ever. But all whinging aside, I managed to answer 186/320 correctly, giving me a score of just over 58%. Hmmm...that doesn't sound very impressive. Maybe I'm not the sci-fi nerd I thought I was. Ah, who am I kidding? I just spent two hours doing "The Ultimate SFX TV Quiz", then writing up the results for my blog. Not to mention inserting the words "live-action" above so no-one would think I'd forgotten the "Star Trek" cartoon from the 70s.

Who ate all the pies?

I did. A whole packet of the new Four'N Twenty Beef & Mushy Pea Pies. The meat's bog standard, but the peas are nice and smoky-tasting, and there's plenty of them. Top one of these pies with a dollop of instant mashed potato, make a depression in the spud, pour in some packet gravy and pretend you're eating a "Tiger" from Harry's Cafe De Wheels. Alternatively, scoff all four without topping while excitedly watching a mixed martial arts DVD ("PRIDE FC: Critical Countdown Absolute 2006") and feel bloated for the rest of the evening :-)

Moving pieces

[Apologies to Rush]

When my body's crying out for vitamin D, I like to absorb my sunlight watching the daily chess games in Hyde Park. Most of the players are male, middle- or old-aged and European. That's not stereotyping on my part, it's a fact. Only bad light or bad weather can drive them from the giant board and chess tables. They seem to exist on coffee from the adjacent barista, plus the odd sandwich or cigarette. I suspect a few of them are homeless. Many have eccentricities that add to the spectacle. One fellow won't touch the giant pieces directly, moving them with the aid of a paper bag; one carries a radio he puts to his ear during his opponent's go. I saw one who offered draws when he didn't deserve them. Kibitzing is kept to a minimum, but trash talk is another matter. Pity the challenger who acts too cocky and can't back it up on the board. But the chess men don't mind patzers like me watching ... or tourists taking photos ... uninterested folk eating their lunch and chatting on mobiles within earshot ... or park gardeners working around them. They are consumed by the game.

Meeting Meanies

Interviewed Wal and Link of cult Aussie rockers The Meanies for work. A pleasure. One of the group's best known songs is "10% Weird". Assuming it applies to them, that leaves 2% ego and 88% likeability, by my calculations. The Meanies are promoting a new DVD that documents their 17-year history and includes a concert filmed in 1994 at Newcastle University's Bar On The Hill. Wish I could have told them I was there, but I think I may been on a break from my degree at the time. I was also yet to discover the sheer joy of watching a talented band "going off" in a confined space that serves cheap beer.

Love to "Hate"

Picked up Peter Bagge's "Hate Annual #6" comic at lunch. There's a medium-sized story about his famous slacker character Buddy Bradley (now raising a family on a redeveloped junkyard, while trying to extricate himself from criminal types and cover up a death); a short tale about a trendy chick trying to be accepted into a biker gang; a series of strips where Bat Boy (of "Weekly World News" fame) is president of the US, with various female pop singers as his catfighting cabinet; a filler of a spoof personality test called "Are you a c**t?"; another short, this time about a rookie grid iron quarterback's wife who makes the mistake of sitting among vocal fans; a "Matrix" parody (starring Buddy's old flatmate George?); and a single-pager recounting an Alice Cooper anecdote.

Broken into its constituent parts, it sounds like a meaningless mess. Read as one, it's enough 70s-underground-inspired art, cynical social commentary and sick humour to keep a Bagge fan like myself happy till his next release.

$15.50 well spent

"Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest" is not without its faults. There's some clumsy backtracking in the third act. The ending's an unsatisfying jolt a la "Matrix Reloaded". And I noted two famous lines the scriptwriters had plundered (one from Douglas Adams), so there may well be more.

But that's it - that's the worst I can say about what amounts to an extremely enjoyable film.

The handsome cast ham it up for all they're worth, with Tom Hollander (Guy Burgess in the miniseries "Cambridge Spies") and Naomie Harris (the most bewitching witch since Tilda Swinton's Jadis) proving scene stealers. There's more eye candy than you can eat in one viewing - Davy Jones and his monster crew are wonderous in their detail and, as far as I'm concerned, that Kraken is real. It's also impossible not to laugh at least a few times. The extended swordfight sequence is preposterous fun and, basically, so's the rest of the movie.

I didn't see "Curse Of The Black Pearl" till a friend lent me the DVD and I put off "Dead Man's Chest" till late in its cinema run. But there's now a good chance I'll be there on opening night for "Pirates Of The Caribbean 3".

30 games of Coldsnap later...

My latest solo round-robin Magic tournament is done. It took at least 12 hours spaced out over half that many nights. I listened to David Gilmour's recent "On An Island" album so many times I probably won't play it again for years.

Without further a-bollocks, the placings:

1st: Kjeldoran Cunning (U/W) - weenies/control - 2 matches, 9 games
2nd: Beyond The Grave (B/R/g) - graveyard recursion - 2 matches, 8 games
3rd: Aurochs Stampede (G/R) - a trampling herd! - 2 matches, 8 games (lost to BTG on countback)
4th: Snowscape (B/U) - defensive creatures - 0 matches, 5 games

Boring trivia:
Deciding my traditional shuffling wasn't randomising the cards sufficiently and being unable to rifle without sleeves (and not feeling like buying enough new ones to do the job), I switched to five-pile shuffling. This produced pleasingly varied hands.

Interesting trivia (if you're a Magic player):
Coldsnap is the "lost" third and final set in the Ice Age block. Ice Age came out in 1995 and Alliances followed a year later, so both are out of print and moderately valuable. Surprisingly, these Coldsnap pre-cons contain black-bordered reprints from both IA and Al., including good play cards such as Swords To Ploughshares, Brainstorm, Portent, Ashen Ghoul, Dark Ritual, Dark Banishing, Gorilla Shaman, Orcish Lumberjack, Tinder Wall, Incinerate, Bounty Of The Hunt and Browse. Not to mention the various snow-covered lands, which are now useful for something other than Withering Wisps.

Craving raw fish

Just realised I haven't eaten sushi since before I went on holidays, which was five weeks ago! Since I've worked back till after 7.30pm and don't feel like cooking or washing up, I'm off to rectify the situation. I've tried countless types of sushi, but my favourite remains tuna and avocado rolls covered in cod(?) roe. A lot of other people share this preference, so the plates tend to get grabbed off the conveyor belt pretty quickly. Hopefully, I can get a seat near the end where the new stuff's loaded on...

Meeting my makers

So I tagged along with the editor to my first big meeting post-promotion. Naturally, the details are confidential, but I can make one general comment. It's scary finding out how closely people higher up in the company scrutinise our magazine and how much they expect from us!

"I couldn't think of anything to talk about"

In English class at high school, whenever the public speaking component of the syllabus rolled around, someone would inevitably trot out the old "I couldn't think of anything to talk about" speech. They'd go through a list of possible subjects, explain why they'd been forced to eliminate each one, and feign becoming increasingly desperate for a topic. The oration would conclude with a groaner of a gag, eg. the speaker suddenly realising, just as the perfect topic had sprung to mind, that they were out of time. I preferred to talk about things with universal appeal...like Betamax video recorders.

Why I didn't like "JPod"

"JPod" (2006), about a group of dysfunctional coworkers at a videogame company (plus some of their family and friends), may be Douglas Coupland's worst book.

Firstly, the funky slogans interspersed within the narrative of "Generation X" (1991) have become the equivalent of literary spam. I realise that in this case it's done to evoke the Internet, which is such a big part of the character's lives. However, devoting several pages to a chunk of the number pi with one digit printed incorrectly is ridiculous. Perhaps Coupland thinks thinks it gives a profound insight into the lengths geeks will go to, that's it's daringly funny, or that readers will enjoy searching for said digit. I don't x3.

The noise wouldn't be so bad if "JPod"'s signal was stronger. I've read and enjoyed each of Coupland's previous novels, but this time round I just wasn't buying the personalities on offer. Main man Ethan is supposed to be smart, but rarely demonstrates it. The rest are happy to lie, cheat, sell drugs, drug others, kidnap, kill, or at the very least turn two blind eyes. It was hard to give a stuff about any of them.

(Sarcasm warning...) But it's OK because they make plenty of pop-cultural references! Those don't ring true here, either, often smacking of a quick web trawl. And anyway, I never liked Coupland just because he could rattle off the names of comic books or cult movies - I liked him because in the next paragraph he'd be listing plant species or talking about architecture. He gave cred to the crap I enjoy while proving it could coexist with the "real world".

Probably the thing that irks most about "JPod" is the way Coupland has made himself a character in the story. It didn't work in Bret Easton Ellis' ultimately pointless "Lunar Park" and it doesn't work here. As post-modern as it might be for an author to use his own incarnation as the deus ex machina, it did nothing for me but scream: THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION.

Coupland's endings are usually uplifting, bordering on magical - I'm thinking specifically of the rain of animals that closes "Shampoo Planet" (1992) - but this one's a dud. Too obvious, too short and too knowing.

After the beautiful and moving "Hey Nostradamus!" (2003) and "Eleanor Rigby" (2004), "JPod" is a backward stumble. It appears to be (and is certainly being marketed as) an attempt to write an updated "Microserfs" (1995). Unfortunately, doing it in a tongue-in-cheek way has killed what Coupland does best: creating endearing folk in familiar settings, then stripping away everything but their hurting, loving, hoping human hearts.

Dodgy dinner

Mum stayed over last night after a get-together with friends from her London days. Dad didn't come with her as he's in a daytime sleep cycle due to live broadcasts of the British Open golf tournament. Normally, because neither of my parents ever spoil themselves, I like to take Mum to a restaurant or at least get us some decent takeaway. Yesterday, we did something different and ate my favourite junk foods from the local Asian supermarket. A bunch of Chinese microwave buns, Japanese potato crisps and Thai pot noodles later, we both agreed it was a fun meal, but not one we'd want again in a hurry. I hate to think how much "flavour enhancer 621" was involved :-)

Big city, small world

Even in a metropolis like Sydney there are some strangers you regularly bump into. There's this one guy I always used to see at Magic: The Gathering tournaments. That in itself isn't unusual as the tourneys comprised 80-90% regulars. But when I stopped playing M:TG competitively, he kept popping up - in pubs, at gigs, in dorkgeeknerd stores. One cold, rainy afternoon, I even saw the dude walking down the main street of my suburb amid a black-clad group that could have been students, squatters, vampire junkies, real junkies or all of the above. Today, I spied him again, looking the worse for wear as he busked in the CBD. He was improvising poorly on a white recorder and had seemingly few coins to show for it. My first thought was: there's that bloody guy again. But then I was struck with a strange feeling of kinship going back to the Magic tourneys in which we'd both competed (though never against each other). I gathered my pocket change and dropped it onto his outspread duffle coat. He said, "Thank you." And I walked away. It was only later I realised a kinder thing I could have done. It would have begun like this: "G'day, mate. Didn't I used to see you..."

Well-crafted war

Take the setting and events of "Warcraft" (the original PC games, not the MMORPG), translate them into simplified "Dungeons & Dragons" v3.5 terms, devise an epic scenario within this fantasy world, then run it wargame style, with lots of maps, miniatures and cardboard counters (to denote poison users, spell effects, etc.). What you'll end up with is a heroic hybrid hoot. Kudos to TC who ran the role-playing game just described (or at least the first part of it) for myself and three other friends last night. The hours of effort he'd obviously put in paid off big time and I can't wait for the next session!

Celebration --> Inebriation

Three words: Boddington's Pub Ale.

G'night.

Level up!

I've been promoted from chief subeditor to deputy editor. The person above me (who happens to be a good mate) didn't quit or get fired, he simply decided he wanted a more hands-off role. Besides a spiffier job title and extra spending money, becoming dep ed means I'll be trained to one day (we're talking distant future) become an editor. Given that I started in magazines seven years ago as a casual sub, I suddenly feel like I've accomplished something - and I'm enjoying it just as much as I did then!

Travelling into the past

I don't like finishing work on time. The buses are more crowded around 5.30pm, which makes them stuffier and, at this time of year, means there are more sick people spreading their germs. There's sod-all chance of me being able to sit down and read my book (currently, Douglas Coupland's "JPod") and the rush-hour traffic means the trip can take up to twice as long - ie. 40 minutes instead of 20.

However, today I willingly endured the claustrophobia, coughing fits and cramming into the aisle in an attempt to reach my abode by 6.05pm and see the TV show "Time Team". I'd heard mentions of this British archaeology series for years but had no idea if it was serious history or just lightweight, after-school fare. I walked through the front door of my flat at 6pm and turned on the telly.

"Time Team" turned out to be a treasure worth excavating. Hosted by the impossible not to like Tony Robinson ("Who Dares Wins", "Tales From Fat Tulip's Garden", "Blackadder", "Maid Marian And Her Merry Men", various excellent documentaries), it's like a cross between a doco and a reality show as a team of experts attempt to solve an archaeological puzzle in the space of three days.

Today's episode was a search for a Yorkshire village called Henderskelf known to have existed on the spot of Castle Howard prior to the early 1700s. Tony and his advisors, plus a group of labourers I'm guessing were largely volunteers, used a geophysical survey and modern maps in conjunction with records from the time to home in on the most likely locations of the settlement's remains.

False starts and rethinks were followed by unexpected leads and a tale emerged of a village that stood for several centuries, only to be wiped from the landscape to make way for a massive manor. It was the sort of riveting-yet-educational show I could watch 24/7. Strangely, the ABC are only screening "Time Team" on Tuesdays. Maybe I can put up with one awful 5.30pm bus ride per week...

McDonald's El Maco burger

Ingredients:

* Soggy bun
* Macca's standard strangely-synthetic-tasting "beef" patty x 2
* cheese
* lettuce
* tomato
* sour cream (too much)
* spicy sauce (not enough)

I could have put up with the sheer ordinariness of the El Maco itself were it not served in one of those stupid little boxes like they use for the lean beef burger. What is the point? The wrappers they use for the regular stuff are more hygienic and less messy.

Burger rating: 1/5 (just as well I was extremely hungry)

Revolution calling!

After seeing "A Large Attendance..." (review below), my companions and I went to a pub in The Rocks to discuss it and down a couple of pints of Guinness. After we parted, I headed for a different sort of gig. At the Metro Theatre, American progressive metal band Queensryche were playing a condensed version of their concept albums "Operation: Mindcrime 1 & 2" plus some other favourites. Local outfit Lord provided excellent support (in an Iron-Maiden-meets-Screaming-Jets kinda way), but when the 'Ryche boys trooped on stage and lead singer Geoff Tate launched into "Revolution Calling", sounding every bit as good as he does on CD, I felt a genuine shiver go up my spine. It only got better from there!

Play time

Most years, there's only one theatrical performance that interests me enough that I make the effort to book a ticket and get dressed up. Last year, it was Michael Frayn's "Democracy" (the cult of personality surrounding and inevitable downfall of West German Chancellor Willy Brandt). The year before, it was another of MF's intellectual slugfests - "Copenhagen" (the mysterious relationship between Margrethe and Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg, and their role in the creation of the atomic bomb).

This year, there've been three must-be-seen-by-me pieces of live drama. The National Theatre Of Great Britain's production of JB Priestley's "An Inspector Calls" was an engaging thriller, visual treat (easily the most inventive set I've seen) and moving plea to take more responsibility for our fellow men. Alan Bennett's "The History Boys", again presented by the NTOGB, was worthwile for what it said about the getting and giving of knowledge - if, ironically, a little difficult to follow. Imagine an all-male "Grange Hill" crammed with literary quotations, conversations in French, torch songs and frank sexual discussion and you're some way there. Which brings us to "A Large Attendance In The Antechamber", a one-man show I saw yesterday at the Opera House's Playhouse.

Shuffling into the theatre with my friends CM, AM and their mum (that would be Mrs M), my eyes were immediately drawn to what looked like a vintage, coin-operated fortune teller machine. On second glance, it turned out to be a live man in Victorian-era garb. He was sitting inside a tiny room lined with books and other oddments. His body was motionless but his eyes moved mechanically around the theatre, homing in on any loud noises. When the lights died, the rest of him slowly came to life and he began channeling a ghostly voice...

The spirit inhabiting actor Brian Lipson was that of Sir Francis Galton (1822-1911), a scientist who might be completely forgotten had he not (a) been the cousin of Sir Charles Darwin and (b) formulated the theory of eugenics, now forever associated with the Jewish Holocaust. But apart from the ingrained prejudices of his time, there was no sinister racial motivation behind Galton's belief in selective breeding. As I learnt over the next 75 manic minutes, it was simply one of countless theories generated by a man who could not stop measuring, recording and attempting to optimise ever aspect of his life - whether it be deducing the perfect recipe for tea or finding the region of England with the highest proportion of attractive women.

As Galton, Lipson lectured, constructed and activated Rube Goldberg devices, interacted with the audience, and gradually escaped from his costume and wooden cage. As an artist, he agonised over the act of seriously reconsidering a historical figure - in this case, a great man whose scientific reasoning should not be misunderstood - almost ashamed of the theatrical tricks and gags necessary to do so.

Sir Francis Galton had the highest IQ ever recorded. He explored and mapped parts of Africa, laid the groundwork in fingerprinting, was creating fake photos for others' amusement more than a century before Photoshop existed, and founded entire fields in the sciences of geography, psychology and statistics. He tried to understand every thing in the world and now it's up to us not to be ignorant of him.

"A Large Attendance In the Antechamber" was an amazing theatrical experience on par with the best one-man shows I've seen live, namely Simon Callow's "The Mystery Of Charles Dickens" and Marcel Marceau's mesmerising 2003 performance at the State Theatre.

Footy

My favourite football codes, in order of how much I like them, starting with the game I enjoy watching/reading about/discussing most. (In brackets are the specific teams I support.)

1. Rugby league (Newcastle Knights, NSW Blues aka "The Cockroaches", Australian Kangaroos)
2. Soccer (Newcastle United Jets, Australian Socceroos, Liverpool FC - since the mid-80s)
3. Rugby Union (NSW Waratahs, Australian Wallabies)
4. AFL (Sydney Swans)
5. Grid iron (Don't really have a team, but I'll say the Alabama Crimson Tide in college football 'cos I was swept away by Warren St John's book about their fanatical supporters, "Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer")

Not sure if this list'll be of the slightest interest to anyone, but I felt like making it. And what are blogs for if not sheer self-indulgence?

OVW 4 LIFE

Lately, I've been watching DVDs of Ohio Valley Wrestling. I'm deeply digging it for a couple of reasons. First, it's a feeder federation for the WWE, so the people you're seeing could be future superstars (they could also be former superstars on the outer or on the mend). Second, it's a fed that makes excellent use of its relatively small roster and does things in an "old school" rasslin way. By that I mean partnerships and feuds are allowed to develop until they mean something (rather than being switched around every other week for mere shock value) and title belts rarely change hands. At least, that's how it seems to this convert - which is why I've ordered another batch of OVW discs from my supplier.

Have you read the Harry Potter books?

Or at least seen the movies?
If you have, even if you're old like me, I'm sure you've thought about what it would be like to go to the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry.
But have you thought about which of the school's four houses the Sorting Hat would put you in?
Would you be in Gryffindor like the heroes?
Slytherin like the villains?
Or would you be in one of the also-ran houses...
...the not-quite-as-cool-as-Gryffindor Ravenclaw?
...the difficult-to-take-seriously Hufflepuff?
If you were in Gryffindor, could you possibly stand out alongside the likes of Harry, Ron and Hermione?
If Slytherin, could you do anything to stop Malfoy and his cronies?
Or would it be easier to laugh at their jokes, avoid their wrath and fall in with them?
Would Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff offer you the chance to be a bigger mer-creature in a smaller pond?
Would they change your point of view such that the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin seemed just an inter-house rivalry, not a battle between good and evil?
Am I thinking about this all too much?

Hurry up with that last book, JK.

Bittersweet

Bitter: Being forced to give my invitation to tonight's opening of the Parramatta Hooters restaurant to someone else (thankfully, it was my mate AM). I'd been chasing an interview with a UK Page 3 girl who we've just bought a new photo shoot of and, according to her agent, this was the only time she was free.

Sweet: The model in question was the lovely, smart, did I mention lovely?, did I mention smart?, and completely free from airs and graces Anna Taverner. I only had a dozen questions but we ended up chatting for 40 minutes - which is a lot more conversation than I would have got from the Hooters waitresses.

"Chess" (not the musical)

Finished Stefan Zweig's 1943 novella "Chess" in two bus trips and a bathroom visit. The plotting's exquisite and, presumably, so was the original language (it's translated from German). Here's an outline: When a group of passengers on a cruise ship discover the world chess champion is also on board, they pester him for a game. The man agrees, but only for a sizeable fee. His unmatched success has made him arrogant and he takes great delight in besting their combined efforts at the board. As the amateurs seek revenge in a second game, a stranger appears, begins offering advice and turns a losing position into a shock draw. A one-on-one showdown is inevitable. But although the champ's own peasant-to-potentate tale is an amazing one, it's nothing compared to the ordeal the stranger has been through as a prisoner of the Nazi regime. Subject to a unique form of psychological torture, chess has come to mean more to him than to the most studious grandmaster. It has simultaneously rebuilt and destroyed him. Whatever the result, the third game can only end in tragedy.

Recommendations

Just watched a slick little arthouse flick ("Croupier") and am about to finish reading a heart-breakingly beautiful "young adult" novel (Stephen Chbosky's "The Perks Of Being A Wallflower"). Probably won't get time to review them now I'm back at work, so lemme just say both are special in their way and worth tracking down. If you like gambling-related films, my opinion is that "Croupier" beats "Rounders" and "House Of Games". If you loved the books "The Catcher In The Rye" and "A Separate Peace" (two of Bill Gates' favourites), I reckon "T/P/O/B/A/W" is better than both!

Subway addiction

I can go a week without junk food, a month without alcohol and years without a cigarette, but at the moment I can't go a day without Subway. Specifically, a foot- long roll (preferably parmesan and oregano) with chicken fillets, old English cheese, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, double pickles, double olives, thousand island dressing and loads of pepper (though not as much as my friend and former flatmate BS, whose BLTs used to look like someone had thrown a handful of dirt onto them). As far as I'm concerned, it's the ultimate sandwich combination and no-one's gonna tell me otherwise. Well, maybe that Jared guy with the giant pants could. He really knows his Subway.

Ready but not armed

When I finished high school, I enquired about joining the army. My memory's hazy on the details, but either my dad drove me to the recruitment office or he dropped in there on my behalf. It wasn't that I desperately wanted to fight or to play with big boys' toys or even out of national pride (mine hadn't yet kicked in). It was simply that I was 17, had no plans in life, and the idea of an instant career was appealing. Also, some guys I knew through karate were in the army reserve and made it sound very much like getting paid for mucking about. The army declined the offer of my services on the grounds of eyesight (I'd suspected this might be the case). My dad asked if there were any positions - eg. behind a computer screen - where my level of vision would be acceptable, but it was a blanket rule. Looking back, I'm kinda glad I wasn't allowed to join as, although physically fit, I wasn't mentally prepared for the training - let alone the social side of things. But clearly I'm still a little miffed :-)

I won the World Cup!

Prior to the FIFA World Cup Germany 2006, my workmates CM, DL, SC and I organised a sweep in which we were randomly allocated one team from each of the eight groups (good old four-sided dice). We chipped in $5 a head to go to the winner. My seemingly unimpressive line-up was: Poland, Trinidad & Tobago, Holland, Angola, Italy, Japan, Togo and Tunisia. Only two of those - Holland and Italy - made it out of the group stage, with the Dutch losing their next game in the round of 16. But, after limping past Australia with a milked penalty in extra time, Italy found form and defeated the Ukraine and Germany to reach the final against France. As we all know, they won it 5-3 on penalties after the sides were locked at 1-1. The consolation for Socceroos supporters is we can now say we were "knocked out by eventual winners Italy". The added consolation for me is I just scored two free lunches.

Milk thistle

Call me Crazy C. McCrazyton III, but I've decided to try for a health boost by taking a single course of a dietary supplement. My inspiration was an article I stumbled on, on the BBC web site, about the possible benefits to your liver of something called milk thistle. Checking a US government health page, it didn't sound like there were any side effects to worry about (my stomach's strong and I don't suffer from plant allergies), so I set off for the local health food store in search of said herbal extract. I came away with a noticeably lighter imitation leather wallet and a box of Milk Thistle 12,000 Complex. You'll be pleased to know (as I was) that besides milk thistle fruit, the pills contain dandelion root, barberry stem bark, globe artichoke leaf and astragalus root. Let's see if they do anything more than give me expensive urine...

Interacting with the environment

Much as I hate being swooped by magpies in nesting season (August-October), I adore the yodelling sound they make. These birds are numerous in my suburb and there are usually some hunting for insects in the nearby park. Being the annoying fellow that I am, I've discovered if I give an extended up-and-down whistle (hard to put into words, demonstrations available on request) as I walk past the 'pies, I can usually coax one of them into producing a yodel. Makes up for all the times they've sent me running from their territory waving a backpack/umbrella/big stick over my head :-)

In other news... Detox proceeding well. Brain age now officially 20 (it tricks you by saying 78 first, then changing its mind). Remembered 26/30 words (knew two more but the program kept thinking my "J" was an "S" and I ran out of time :-( ).

24-hour party person

When my head hit the pillow at 10.30am today, I'd been awake for 24 hours. I really don't do that sort of thing anymore, after a health scare a year or three back. Except I just did. What made me stay awake for an entire day and night? It started as a regular card/board-gaming session with my pals SC, LC, TC, LPO and a cute cat called Loki. For some reason, we all got drunk and became appropriately silly. In the wee hours, myself and another party decided to head into the city. Ignoring more traditional sightseeing destinations such as the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, we opted instead for visits to the Bada Bing strip club in Kings Cross and Star City Casino in Pyrmont. Both of which were blah. After seeing him to a train, I then had three bright ideas: (1) eat a greasy breakfast in a cafe, (2) spend an hour at work sorting holiday e-mails while waiting for the dorkgeeknerd shops to open, and (3) see what stuff I'd missed during the fortnight I'd been on vacation. Eventually, I got home and grabbed a few hours' sleep and will shortly catch several more. The weird thing is: I feel fine. Wasn't sick at any point. No headache. No sniffles or sore throat from being out'n'about (digits crossed). Sometimes your body just puts on its invisible cheerleader outfit and screams, "Bring it on!" I wish it wouldn't.

List of purchases I didn't deserve after such bad behaviour, but which should at least keep me home for a while:
* "Doctor Who: Aliens And Enemies" book (new)
* Latest air-freight copy of UK sci-fi/fantasy/horror magazine "SFX"
* American "Newtype" anime mag (July)
* "Death Note" #1 manga

Maria full of grunts

No blasphemy intended - couldn't resist the pun.

Tennis is one of my least favourite sports to watch on TV as I can't stand 99% of the commentators (Jim Courier's OK). But I make exceptions for matches involving Aussies like Lleyton Hewitt and for Wimbledon - as I did the other night, when I fell asleep watching Maria Sharapova lose to Amelie Mauresmo. MS was as lovely as I remember, but what I'd forgotten was how much noise she makes while playing. She grunts. She groans. She yelps. She does everything but ululate a Xena-style war cry. I can't help wondering when these sounds cross the line from the natural product of physical exertion to deliberate distraction of one's opponent. Would we be as willing to put up with Maria's grunt track if she wasn't a beautiful, blonde Russian in rude health? Rhetorical question, people.

Them's eatin' words!

Just finished reading Jason Fagone's "Horsemen Of The Esophagus: Competitive Eating And The Big Fat American Dream". It came hot on the paperback heels of Ryan Nerz's "Eat This Book: A Year Of Gorging And Glory On The Competitive Eating Circuit".

Both give a good overview of the sport of gurgitation (that's without the "re"), focusing on the Nathan's Famous hotdog-eating contest in New York and the Wing Bowl in Philadelphia, while also covering various smaller competitions involving foodstuffs from asparagus (record: 2.835kg in 10 minutes) to watermelon (record: 6kg in 15 minutes).

Inside each you'll find profiles of all the major, nickname-worthy competitors, including including Eric "Badlands" Booker (subway conductor/rapper), David "Coondog" O'Karma (house painter), Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas (Burger King manager) and Tim "Eater X" Janus (stock market trader).

Both authors try and fail to deduce why world No. 1 Takeru Kobayashi - who stunned US gurgitators in 2001 when he destroyed the Nathan's Famous record, eating 50 'dogs in 12 minutes - is so much better than everyone else. (Though Californian rookie Joey Chestnut continues to narrow the gap.) Fagone does best to break down the cultural barriers and TK's reserve, if only for brief moments.

Science-wise, the two titles outline the facts about swallowing and digesting, plus the dangers involved. They reveal what gurgitators are known to do to maximise speed/capacity/recovery and speculate on what else they might do in secret. Both examine vomiting incidents and the "Belt Of Fat Theory" (a possible explanation for how petite Sonya can consistently out-scoff people three-four times her size).

The gorging "world" gets similar treatment in both books... There are the two federations - the big, businesslike International Federation Of Competitive Eating (IFOCE) and its upstart rival the Association of Independent Competitive Eaters (AICE). There are docos and TV shows. There are Internet sites spreading news, gossip and outright lies. There are hard-core fans and, yes, even groupies.

However, despite the almost identical subject matter of "Horsemen Of The Esophagus" and "Eat This Book", the former is the superior work. Fagone's writing is denser; unashamedly literate, thought-filled and provocative. His characters are more than just a series of quick sketches - they are constantly evolving, even if that means contradicting themselves or falling out of favour. Fagone is also unarguably the more impartial, agonising over a free T-shirt while Nerz runs IFOCE events and even tries his stomach at competing.

I don't want to totally dump on "Eat This Book" - it's an easily digested intro to a fascinating sport/way of life. It's just that following it up with "Horsemen" is like watching Kobayashi in '01. The competition's totally outclassed.

Updates

That tasty iced tea I mentioned in a previous posting is Oishi Japanese Green Tea Genmai Flavour. I know because I restocked today. Genmai - isn't he the panda from the manga "Ranma 1/2"? :-)

Current brain age: 23. Almost optimum! But seriously, my mind hasn't improved that much in such a short time - I've just gotten better at manipulating the game. The same thing happens if you practise IQ tests, as I found while at uni. I borrowed a few books full of sample papers from the library and soon became familiar with the types of puzzles/tricks used. By the end, I was achieving IQ scores that were waaay inflated.

Ranks in the Dissension

I've been playing Wizards Of The Coast's collectible card game Magic: The Gathering since December, 1993. Somewhere along the line, WOTC began releasing what they call pre-constructed decks with each new expansion set. These self-contained decks focus on one or two of the five colours of magic, demonstrate the concepts introduced in the set and allow the player to discover some of the card interactions. They're also very evenly matched, which is I why I buy every batch (of three-five) and use them in round-robin tournaments with mates. Well, I used to do that, only with people moving, marrying and making babies, it became too hard to organise the get-togethers. Nowadays, I purchase the pre-cons then play them against myself. Sad as that may sound, it's quite fun - when switching between the two hands, I actually move to the other side of the table, sit down and try to put myself in the position of someone who doesn't know what cards his opponent is holding. (In rare situations where it's impossible for me to be objective when making a decision, I toss a coin.)

Over the past few days, I've been putting the Dissension pre-constructeds through their paces. Rakdos Bloodsport is a black/red deck that utilises the new concept of "Hellbent" - spells that grow in power when the player has no cards in hand. It relies on beating the opponent down quickly. Azorius Ascendant is a blue/white deck utilising "Forecast" - cards that can be temporarily revealed from your hand to give some minor effect (for a small cost, during your upkeep). It plays for the long game, with strong defence and card-drawing combos. Simic Mutology is a blue/green deck utilising "Graft" - creatures with +1/+1 counters that can be moved between each other to provide additional abilites as well as a power/toughness boost. It can function as a beatdown deck or a long-game fortress.

The results of my (best of five) round-robin were as follows:
1st - Azorius Ascendant (2 match wins, 6 game wins)
2nd - Rakdos Bloodsport (1 match win, 5 game wins)
3rd - Simic Mutology (0 match wins, 4 game wins)

Note: None of the victories were due to the loser being "mana screwed". My solo tourney rule is that an opening hand must contain a minimum of two lands, with there being at least one more to come in the next three cards. Otherwise, I redeal (without reducing the hand size as you would in a real match-up). Ditto if all the mana is of one type and the majority of the spells are of another.

Purity control

The first time I tried Scotch whisky it was passed to me, mouth to mouth, by a young(ish) lady I was courting. And I *still* didn't like it. It seemed unlikely I would ever become a fan of the beverage. When I read reports of fine whiskies - like those in Iain Banks' booze-fuelled travelogue "Raw Spirit" - I just assumed the people involved had different, less discerning tastebuds to mine. As the Rush song goes, "What a fool I used to be." I realised my error when, on a recent visit to my parents' place, Dad and I cracked a 12-year-old bottle of The Glenlivet he'd been saving for too long. The gorgeous aroma, complex and elusive flavours, and lack of harshness found in lesser brands were a revelation. I HAD NEVER TASTED ANYTHING BETTER. But as we sipped away slowly (T/G is too fine for mixers or throwing down like a shot), we both began wondering how much better an even more expensive Scotch could be. It's gonna take me a while to finish the bottle (yes, Dad insisted I take the rest home), but when I do, there's a $150 Macallan at the local liquor store that's tempting me to try it.

Hands up who got the "X Files" reference in the title? You deserve a drink.

The new "Monkey"

Months back, while shopping in Chinatown, I picked up the DVD box set of the new version of much-loved 70s Japanese TV series "Monkey". The guy behind the counter gave the distinct impression he didn't want to sell it to a gaijin. First, he pointed out there were no English subtitles. I said I didn't mind. Then, he said something along the lines of "OK then, one copy of 'Saiyuki'," as if daring me to call it "Monkey". I didn't bother responding and just handed over the money (it was as cheap as a bootleg, but I'm convinced it's legit). What I could have told him was that I'd already been discussing the show with my sister AC, who lives in Japan, speaks the language and had e-mailed me her review. Or that I knew from an ABC Radio report that some outdoor scenes were filmed in Australia - in fact, in the Port Stephens area, where I grew up. Despite being super-keen to see this modern take on a childhood fave, I took it home and stuck it on a shelf where it remained untouched until today.

Now, I've only watched one episode so far, but unless the production is radically altered in subsequent eps, I think I can make some general observations. The new "Monkey" improves on the old in the areas of martial arts choreography (there's more variety, although slo-mo is overused), special effects (cloud riding has become supersonic sky surfing) and outdoor locations (Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!). However, the actors just don't seem to suit their characters. There's nothing swineish about Pigsy, Sandy just looks like a guy in a long black wig and the actress playing Tripitaka appears uncomfortable in his priest's robes. Monkey's not bad - but he almost tries too hard to be cocky/wild/petulant/mischievous/etc. and could do with having his screen time cut. I don't think much of the pacing, either, with umpteen events crammed into the opening story. Finally, the music isn't a patch on the old Godiego songs. The opening theme is forgettable; the closing theme unusual, if uninspiring. It's clear the makers of the 2006 "Monkey" have tried not to copy elements from the 1978 classic - the costumes and opening/closing titles, for example, are very different - the question is whether their new interpretation hangs together anywhere near as well. At this stage, I don't think so.

Temporal anomalies

Note that the times and dates on these entries don't reflect when I'm posting them, but rather the corresponding times and dates in the US. It's probably not a hard thing to fix...except...for a lifelong "Doctor Who" fan, there's something perversely appealing about being thrown off-course in the space-time continuum. How's that for an excuse for laziness? :-)

Current Brain Age: 28. Had it down to 26 yesterday, only to be penalised for slowness this morning. Never take the test when you've just woken up.

Can't fight the fantasy

From primary school to pretty much the end of high school, I played "Dungeons & Dragons" every chance I got. But when there weren't any players around (I was usually the Dungeon Master) - such as at home on a weeknight - I got my adventuring fix reading "Fighting Fantasy" gamebooks. The creation of Englishmen Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone, these little paperbacks took the "Choose Your Own Adventure" format (book divided into numbered entries, reader directed between entries based on choices they make) and added dice rolling, "D&D" style statistics and equipment to flesh out your character. My friend RS loves "F/F" books as much as me and is currently attempting to collect all of the alternate printings. A week ago, he sent me some of his doubles and last night I decided to read one I'd never owned (it was released while I was at uni): #52 "Night Dragon". The following comments will only be of interest to people who've actually played a "Fighting Fantasy" book...

I successfully completed "Night Dragon" in 3 hours 45 minutes. If I had to summarise it in one sentence, I'd say: A disappointingly patchy tale that borrows heavily from the "Dragonlance" novels and earlier "F/F" books, in which it's easy to choose the correct path but harder than usual to win combats. How hard? Because I don't have time to read these things over and over like when I was a youngster, I gave myself maximum initial values for Skill, Stamina and Luck. However, I still finished the final battle (plus the two twists) at death's door. While I didn't cheat on a single dice roll or page turn during the game, I don't think I made any major blunders. I can't imagine someone getting through with only average scores - especially against numerous poisoned blades and points-draining undead. New rules in "N/D" include a "Time Track" (which definitely added to the tension), "Nemesis Points" (had little effect since I barely accrued any) and "Honour" (which had no effect and should have been combined with Nemesis Points). On a positive note, the black-and-white interior art is up to the series' usual dark, detailed, high standard; it's just a shame the story lacks the originality and balance of earlier efforts. Then again, it still managed to hold my attention for nearly four hours, so that shows even a below average "Fighting Fantasy" is still an adventure worth taking. Thanks, RS.

Tops topping

Pizzas don't get much better than the "Pumpkin Suplex" - bacon, pumpkin, spinach, Spanish onion and feta. Mine was delivered by a cool local firm called The Jilted Anchovy, but any good pizza store should be able to put this combination together for you. Other foods I'm loving at the moment are Calbee Seaweed-Flavoured Potato Chips and a brand of Japanese green ice tea whose maker escapes me (I've already drunk it all and recycled the bottles!).

No tragedy in the theatre

I first encountered the band Theatre Of Tragedy when my friend PG was DJing at a community radio station. During a long song (it was a progressive rock show), we were exploring the CD library when I noticed a compilation with a track entitled "A Hamlet For A Slothful Vassal". The contrast of traditional death metal and a guttural male vocal with orchestral interludes and a beautiful, operatic female vocal blew me away. (The mad, faux-medieval lyrics also helped.) I've since purchased the band's entire output and watched them evolve into what I'd describe as sexy techno metal (with lyrics that now make sense!). Recently, they released an album called "Storm", with a new female singer, packaged like some Wild West preacher's worn copy of the Good Book. Rumours said they'd gone back to their black beginnings and I was a bit worried as I love the present direction. Thankfully, the rumours were wrong. "Storm" is in the same pulse-racing, catchy and endlessly listenable vein as T/O/T's previous two albums, "Assembly" and "Musique". Even better, new vocalist Nell Sigland sounds almost exactly like her predecessor, Liv Kristine Espenaes.

LEGO for grown-ups

Yesterday, I built a bookcase to help contain my growing DVD collection. It was my fifth (of various sizes and shapes) since I've been living in this flat and I think I'm getting better at constructing them. That said, there were still a few screws that didn't quite line up and needed to be forced in using my special technique of wrapping a rag around the handle of the screwdriver. For some reason, this makes things much easier (and less painful - although I still ended up with a blister). I'm sure there's a basic scientific principle in there somewhere...

School's in!

Like Kevin Smith, I grew up watching the various "Degrassi" series and crushing on the character of Caitlin Ryan (played by Stacie Mistysyn). Unlike KS, I didn't become a famous film director who could ingratiate myself into three episodes of the show's current incarnation, "Degrassi: The Next Generation", in a plotline that involved snogging said actress. Not that I'm bitter. Ahem. In Oz, "D:TNG" screens at times when I'm either working or sleeping, so my only chance to see these eps was to order the DVD from Amazon. "Jay & Silent Bob Do Degrassi: The Next Generation" ("Director's Cut - Uncut, Uncensored, Unrated") took a while to win me over. As cheerleaders feuded and other unfamiliar Canuck teens went about their biz, I kept wishing for Kevin to appear on screen. Then the old "Degrassi" kinda real/kinda soapie magic kicked in, Jay showed up making crude passes at the schoolgirls and I was hooked all over again. Possibly even better than the episodes were the commentary tracks in which Smith revealed and reminisced, Stacie proved herself to be one hella cool chick and Jason Mewes' occasional interjections made me laugh out loud. Worth purchasing - but make sure you get the Director's Cut.

Sympathy for Kim Philby

As a fan of the BBC miniseries "Cambridge Spies" (shown here at least twice on ABC), I was chuffed to pick up Douglas Sutherland's "The Fourth Man" at a secondhand bookshop recently for a couple of coins. As you might expect, the real story is much more complicated than the TV dramatisation. While "C/S" gave the impression that all four establishment Brits who spied for the Russians were important, the facts in "T/F/M" suggest otherwise. For this reader, Blunt comes across as a mere dabbler; Burgess a brilliant fool who ended up the victim of his own colossal joke; and Maclean a trapped, confused alcoholic (possibly with an undiagnosed mental illness). Only Philby is shown to truly believe in communism and continue walking the walk once behind the Iron Curtain, receiving the Soviet Union's "Red Banner Of Honour" and rising to the rank of general in the KGB. (Which is not to say I approve of his actions - his treachery was responsible for the deaths of many of his own countrymen and their allies.) Curiously, Sutherland closes with the line, "After all, espionage is the second oldest profession in the world." Is he suggesting these men were nothing more than prostitutes? In Philby's case, I would disagree.

Can you teach an old brain new tricks?

For the past four days, I've been playing "Dr Kawashima's Brain Training" on Nintendo DS. The idea is to get your grey matter fit by doing daily written and spoken exercises (involving words, numbers, colours and movement) - 'til it reaches the optimum "brain age" of 20. Mine started at 66. The next day it went down to 36. Then I realised my DS clock was 12 hours out (stupid 24-hour time!), wiped the slate and began again. My new starting brain age was 43. Today, I reduced it to 32. My real age is 34.

Note: The program's handwriting/voice analysis is far from perfect. Most of my "mistakes" have come from it misinterpreting what I've written/said - in particular, the number "5" and the word "yellow". However, if this helps me scribble and speak more clearly, then it's a good thing. And what do you expect from a $40 (Australian) cartridge?