The power of bribes

In today's mail was a letter from a power company offering a discount if I'd switch my electricity and gas accounts over to them. Nothing blog-worthy about that, but attached to the end of it was a $1 ("pengwins") scratch lottery ticket.

My first thought was: If I remove the scratchie, does it signify my acceptance of the change-over? My second, third and fourth thoughts were: Don't be ridiculous. Where's a coin? Hey, I just won $2!

I confess the addition of the little gift made me consider the offer for longer than I normally would...about 10 seconds longer.

While I was grateful for the coupla bucks, my loyalty can't be bought for so little (except by cute furry animals - awww, bless). More importantly, I'd never heard of the company before and wasn't sure whether I could trust their claim.

Still, nice marketing ploy - I bet it nets them a few customers.

"Watchmen" meets "Jerry Springer"

I may have turned my back on western comics, but that doesn't mean I can't glance over my shoulder - especially when a generous soul like DL gives me an infamous five-issue miniseries gratis. If Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' "Watchmen" (1987) is the star pupil of sequential art, who absorbed every lesson and surpassed all his teachers (and I think it is), then Rick Veitch's "Brat Pack" (1992) is the kid in the back of the class who had natural talent but was more interested in biff, babes and booze...

In the city of Slumburg, the superheroes are predators, risk-takers, substance abusers and supremacists. When their sidekicks foolishly spring a deathtrap set by the laughable Doctor Blasphemy (supposedly a comment on DC Comics killing the second Robin, Jason Todd, in response to a fan poll), a new group of youngsters are recruited...and, over the remaining issues, dragged through hell.

Add a comment about exploitation for commercial gain, the sort-of reappearance of a legend (heavily foreshadowed) and two unmaskings (one obvious, the other an absolute groaner) and that's all Mr Veitch wrote.

But though "Brat Pack" is limited and flawed*, it's not without merit. As an exercise in demonstrating how unlikeable metahumans might actually be, it succeeds.
Witness Midnight Mink sleazing onto Chippy, Moon Mistress turning Luna into a literal ball-buster, King Rad forcing Wild Boy to drink, take drugs and perform dangerous stunts (sounds like Johnny Knoxville), and Judge Jury filling Kid Vicious with steroids, racist beliefs and anger - then tell me I'm wrong.

I should say something about the artwork at this point. Except for the covers, it's black-and-white, with an emphasis on ugly reality rather than the heroic ideal. This style helps emphasise absurdities of the genre that are being mocked, such as tough guy Kid Vicious' camp cowboy outfit and the borrowed NASA lunar module in which Moon Mistress travels. The panels are all over the place (the opposite of "Watchmen"'s regimentation) and the lettering's a mess, but like everything else about "Brat Pack", it somehow works.


*I believe Rick does some serious revising in the graphic novel version. I have the individual issues.

"An Inconvenient Truth"

After he was robbed of the US presidency in 2000 due to dodgy dealings in Florida, Al Gore channelled his energy into warning the world about the dangers of climate change. The documentary "An Inconvenient Truth" combines the big fella's polished-to-perfection lecture with his unique perspective as the son of a Tennessee senator/tobacco farmer. Though a fantastic speaker, Gore never comes across as smug or superior and only gives off a "politician" vibe briefly, during his impassioned closing. As repeated shots of him beavering away at his laptop suggest, his environmentalism is an ongoing study, carefully considered and constructed, and so eloquently stated it cannot be denied. Sleepy when I arrived at the premiere, I was sober as Judge Dredd by the end and ready to do more. Melting glaciers, flooded coasts, desertified interiors, crazy weather, plant and animal species wiped out, millions of people displaced - the gang's all here. It may be inconvenient to know western society can't keep merrily going the way we're going, but it's the truth.

Everything's coming up Addster!

All the sporting teams I support that played this weekend won or drew:

* Newcastle Knights 40 - Penrith Panthers 4 (We're fifth on the ladder with a bye in the last round before the finals - and Joey to return from suspension!)
* Liverpool 2 - West Ham 1 (In a replay of the 2006 FA Cup, we came back from 1-0 down. "Insectoid-limbed goal-getter" Peter Crouch was one of our scorers)
* Randwick 36 - Eastern Suburbs 15 (We're in the grand final next Saturday against "the students" aka Sydney University. Here's to a repeat of 2004's win!)
* Sydney Swans 97 - Brisbane Lions 40 (Like the Knights, in fifth place)
* Newcastle United Jets 0 - New Zealand Knights 0 (Sounds like a crap result versus last season's easybeats, but they were impressive in the pre-season comp)

He is a camera

As a former student of art history, I feel obliged to read oodles into whatever I view. But the symbolism/meaning doesn't always come naturally. Sure, there's intention and design behind every artwork (even if the first is simply to avoid the second), but they're not always obvious. In the photographs of Lewis Morley, they are. Every pic makes you think, "Hey, that's...and that's...and that's..." I know because I just toured a collection of his photos at the Art Gallery Of NSW. A bit of background: Morley's most famous for his shot of "Profumo Affair" vixen Christine Keeler straddling a chair the wrong way round and his "bodybuilder" shots of gay playwright Joe Orton. He took portrait pics of all the big names of the 60s in England, plus some slebs from the Continent. They're black-and-white and each captures its subject(s) so well you just wanna look at it over and over (my definition of great art). Still with me are the shots of Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Alan Bennett and Jonathan Miller from "Beyond The Fringe". Impossibly young and talented - and they knew it. Also, the photograph of Judi Dench when she was an ingenue, sporting a blonde bob, sprawled across an armchair, book (play?) in hand; an intriguing contradiction of sex appeal and studiousness.

Kit-Chat

Tried the new Honeycomb Kit-Kat. It doesn't contain a slab of the stuff like a Crunchie or Violet Crumble; as in a Toblerone, there are tiny pieces mixed through the chocolate. The honey flavour isn't as strong, though. In fact, it's not that different to eating the original bar. Of the recent variations, Honeycomb beats Cookie Dough and Mint Chill, but Caramel remains the ultimate in K-K technology.

Deja viewing

On the latest episode of "Veronica Mars", they finally revealed who killed Lilly Kane and how/why. The closure was satisfying until I flashed back to "Twin Peaks" and wondered if "V/M"'s gonna be able to maintain momentum.

Early daze, but at least there's "Bones", which I'm really digging (exhuming?) after three eps. Best sexual tension on telly since Mulder met Scully. At times, Emily Deschanel even out-kooky-cutes her younger sibling Zooey.

Changing direction

The past few days, I've been hurtling through issues #2-6 of the manga "Death Note". It's a supernatural (mass) murder mystery with more twists than my Agatha Christie collection. The two main characters are both masterminds, but the real geniuses are writer Tsugumi Ohba and artist Takeshi Obata for managing to sustain such an intense, consistently shocking read without descending into absurdity.

Something I realised around issue #3 or 4 was how much more exciting and mentally stimulating it is than most of the American comics I "subscribe" to through my local comic store (actually far from local, but that's another story). It's also way more economical - $12 for an hour's worth of manga as opposed to $7 for a 15-minute US comic (and that's only if it contains a letters page).

The conclusion's obvious. I'm gonna cut back on my standing order and concentrate on collecting more marvelous manga. So out go "Astonishing X-Men", "Justice League Unlimited", "The Maze Agency", "Warlord", "Wonder Woman" (after 15+ years!) and "Usagi Yojimbo", leaving only "Knights Of The Dinner Table" and the occasional release from the likes of Evan Dorkin, Peter Bagge and Chynna Clugston-Major.

From now on, I'll be doing the majority of my comic reading from right to left.

A long night in short

Me and the M. family.

Vietnamese food and 333 beer.

Country music at Newtown's Vanguard.

Jake Nicholai not half bad.

Newcastle's Catherine Britt world-class.

Her voice can do anything.

WWE SummerSlam [spoilers]

DL, CM and I went thirds in the latest WWE pay-per-view, "SummerSlam". The video was passed to me today and as soon as I got home, I made a stack of sandwiches, poured a big glass of soft drink and sat down to watch.

My match-by-match comments:

* Rey Mysterio vs Chavo Guerrero - A fast-paced, skilful tussle that fell flat when Vickie Guerrero (widow of Eddie, who was Chavo's uncle and Rey's friend) tried to break it up. I don't know what was more annoying, her screams or the crowd's booing at the interruption.
Winner: Chavo

* Sabu vs Big Show - I've never been a big fan of the Show, but he actually did well in this ECW-branded bout. Having Sabu use extreme measures to combat a much larger opponent made sense in story terms. Unfortunately, the "suicidal, homicidal, genocidal, death-defying maniac" messed up a crucial table move, spoiling what should have been an exciting finish.
Winner: Big Show

* Randy Orton vs Hulk Hogan - Delivered exactly what it should have, ie. a cocky youngster humbled by a wily veteran. The question has to be asked, though, how long Hogan's charisma can continue carrying his matches. Much as I love the guy for helping make wrestling what it is, his repertoire was always limited and it's even more so now.
Winner: Hulkster

* Ric Flair vs Mick Foley - My respect for these two legends was increased by the way they bumped and bled in this "I quit" contest. The timing, execution and little improvised touches were spot-on. Is Mick really finished? Or will the fact he only cried uncle to save Melina from the barbed-wire baseball bat be used as a loophole? I'm going with option (b) - in wrestling, as in superhero comics, no-one dies forever.
Winner: Flair

* King Booker vs Batista - This was OK. I don't care for either grappler, so I didn't get that involved. Booker's new regal persona is as ridiculous as his attempt at an upper-class English accent. Having said that, Batista could do with an angle to separate him from all the other massively muscled dudes with short spiky hair and tribal tattoos.
Winner: Batista by DQ (after interference from Queen Sharmell)

* Degeneration X vs The McMahons - Best match on the card after Flair/Foley...but still disappointing. Yes, it was fun watching DX battle through the Spirit Squad, Mr Kennedy, William Regal, Fit Finlay, Big Show and Umaga to get to Vince and Shane. Ditto seeing the McMahons copy a bunch of famous tag-team finishing moves. However, one of the main reasons I got this PPV was to see Shane O-Mac perform one of his show-stopping manoeuvres. Call me overly demanding but attempting a Coast To Coast and getting caught with the Sweet Chin Music wasn't enough. (For the unfamiliar, Shane tried to jump across the ring onto the downed Triple H. He was knocked out of the air halfway by a kick from Shawn Michaels.)
Winner: Degeneration X

* John Cena vs Edge - Decent. Both men showed their talent and willingness to make their opponent look good. Shame about the lame brass knuckles ending. Double shame about Lita's boob job, which I hadn't seen before - implants seem to be almost a requirement for WWE Divas these days. In my opinion, she looked better without them.
Winner: Edge

Overall, I'd give "SummerSlam" a 3/5. Regardless of the faults discussed, there was plenty of variety and I didn't leave my chair for the duration...although that might have had something to do with a belly full of sandwiches and soft drink.

Now screening

There can't be too many citizens of Earth who've spent successive nights watching "Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room" and "Aquamarine".

"Enron" I got on DVD from my pal PG. I'm sure you all remember the sudden, scandalous collapse of this US energy giant in 2001, but there's way more to the tale than just cooked books and crooked bosses. It's a parable of greed that involves everyone from plebs like me duped out of their retirement funds to President George Dubya and Big Arnie. Some of the material the researchers have uncovered is astonishing - eg. a telephone recording of an Enron trader (with no authority to do so) telling a power plant to shut down temporarily, so as to increase market demand. This documentary had me riveted. I watched it, explored the extras, then rewatched it immediately with the director's commentary.

"Aquamarine" I saw at a media screening at Fox Studios. The editor wanted someone to go along and check out actress Sara Paxton - a winsome, willowy blonde who, I hasten to add, has been 18 since April. I think he thought it was gonna be another "Splash". A big negative on that one. While "Aquamarine" does feature a mermaid washed up in modern-day America (though it's unmistakably filmed in Australia), it's more about the importance of friendships to young girls. I may be nautical miles away from the intended audience, but I can't deny the neatness and (never sickly) sweetness of the whole thing. If my three little sisters had owned a copy growing up, I reckon they would have worn out the tape.

Nice guys finish third

Slept in even later today thanks to that harshest of mistresses - Texas Hold 'Em poker. My mate LA organised a swanky game in a function room above a pub. We had our own staffed bar, there was a Thai restaurant just down the hall (excellent ginger king prawns) and two casino-style gaming tables.

There were 12 players, so we split into two groups of six for the first four games ($10 or $20 buy-in - I opted for the former). The fifth game ($20 buy-in) involved everyone, with the top three from each pod combining to fight it out.

My results were: 3rd/6, 2nd/6 (my best chance to win; I went all-in with two picture cards and he flopped two low pairs - a "bad beat"!), 3rd/6, 3rd/6 and - would you believe it? - 3rd/12. Unfortunately, it was winner-takes-all, so those minor placings count for zilch.

In the eight to nine hours it took to lose my $60, I can remember only one hand where I definitely shouldn't have folded. The real problem was that against decent players, unless you get consistently great cards, you have to be able to bluff.

Due to my risk-averse nature, I find this terribly hard to do. If it's down to me and one or two others who aren't looking confident - and I have an OK hand - I might exaggerate my bet in attempt to buy the pot.

However, I can't bring myself to push a fat stack of chips into the centre, daring the rest of the table to take me on when I'm holding nada. It feels like too big a lie. And nice guys don't tell lies.

Dinosaurs, dungeoneering and double whammies

Another visit to SC and LC's place, two more cool boardgames I've learnt to play...

In "Evo", each player controls a group of dinosaurs on the same small island, occupying territory, competing for resources, adaptating to climate change and generally attempting to out-evolve rival species.

When the meteors hit to wipe us out, I had the equal highest score but lost on countback to TC who had more 'saurs.

While "Evo" looks quirky (the creature template reminds me of Reg Mombassa's Mambo T-shirt designs), "Dungeon Twister" is just beautiful - a cross between TSR's Planescape art and that found in new-style fantasy comics like "Exalted".

A dungeon is generated by randomly placing tiles, then taking turns to position characters and items. Players have eight different adventurers at their disposal, with the goal being to kill competitors and/or escape from the opposite end of the labyrinth (preferrably with treasure).

There's a lot more to it than that - eg. standing on certain squares allows a character to rotate that tile or any matching ones - but what it boils down to is a strategic dungeon bash.

We didn't quite finish this one, but having the most victory points, I was declared the winner. It wasn't a foregone conclusion, though - I think either SC or LPO could have made a late charge.

Come midnight, we'd moved on to Magic. If I haven't mentioned it previously, we're running a Ravnica Block sealed league. Each of us cracked three more packs of Guildpact, modified our decks accordingly and got into it.

I played two looooong games against TC, both of which I lost. If I were to blame anything, it'd be his double Lightning Helix draws. A card that costs only RW, does three damage and gives the caster three life is too good...especially when none of my packs have contained one :-)

Digital man

The biggest thing that happened in my life today - besides shaving off my bushman's beard and mo' - was signing up for cable telly. Haven't had it here for years, but I can't ignore all the exclusive sport any longer. Plus, Foxtel were offering free installation and a cheap rate for the first three months. I'm planning to offset the cost by reducing the number of DVDs I buy - starting with wrestling bootlegs (I'll have all the WWE shows instead). The Stateside among you will no doubt be horrified to hear I now have to wait three Saturdays for the technician to turn up with my digital box and plug it in.

2-0

Along with the three biggest soccer fanatics I know - CM, AM and PB2 (ie. not the PB from my poker do) - I attended tonight's Asian Cup qualifier between Australia and Kuwait at Aussie Stadium.

It was officially a sell-out, although certain sections of the stadium weren't used. Nevertheless, the 99.99% home crowd meant the atmosphere was excellent, with plenty of English-style chants. Pity about the morons bouncing beach balls overhead and organising Mexican waves - we're there to watch soccer, dammit! It's insulting to the players and distracting for serious spectators.

But I digress...

Despite fielding a second-string team, we were overwhelming favourites with the bookies. However, it was Kuwait who had the first two chances to score. For a team of amateurs (in the literal sense - they have day jobs), they were surprisingly polished and kept us to 0-0 at half time. I don't know their players' names, but the goalie, along with numbers 17 and 2 impressed me most.

The second half was headed the same way until Travis Dodd broke through for a goal, then set up Sasho Petrovski for our second just before full-time. I've already heard people saying it was superior fitness that got us home, but in my opinion it had more to do with a great individual effort from Dodd, a deserved "man of the match" winner. David Carney was our only other player who ever really threatened, with a pair of powerful strikes.

Anyway, it's all fodder for tomorrow's newspapers now. We won and are into the finals of the Asian Cup, while Kuwait can be proud of going toe to toe (boot to boot?) with a much higher-ranked side for a good 75 minutes.

Nut combo

Fell asleep reading Ted L. Nancy's "Letters From A Nut". Woke up in the middle of the night, finished it and started the sequel, "More Letters From A Nut". Quickly fell asleep again.

Both are collections of bizarre - though never threatening, insulting or offensive - missives sent by Ted (rumoured to be Jerry Seinfeld, who pens the two forwards) to American businesses, organisations and famous individuals.

In my opinion, neither book is as funny as "The Timewaster Letters" by Robin Cook. That said, Nancy comes across as a different type of nut, so it's not like I was sitting there thinking, "This is just an inferior version of 'T/T/L'."

Example letter to follow later...

Old mates

My friend DQ is here on holiday from the US with his lovely family. He and I caught up tonight at German restaurant Lowenbrau Keller in The Rocks. We dined on proper pretzels and pork schnitzels that completely eclipsed the dinner plates on which they were served. We washed them down with ludicrously large mugs of beer (the mango-flavoured brew proving an unlikely winner). We talked and laughed and shook our heads. There was too much new ground to cover; there were too many old steps to retrace. But we gave it a bloody good try. I won't attempt to do justice here to a 22-year friendship with no fallings-out. Sufficed to say, I wish we could catch up more often.

Sydney Jewish Museum

It was too nice a day to Morlock away inside, so as soon as the housework was done I boarded a bus for the city. After a long wander in the sunshine, I ended up at the Sydney Jewish Museum. It's kinda tucked away, but I'd looked up the location ages ago and been meaning to visit ever since. (At the time, I'd just read Oliver Sacks' wonderful, science-centric autobiography "Uncle Tungsten: Memoirs Of A Chemical Boyhood" and was curious to know more about Jewish culture.)

The strict security at the entrance (understandable given the current situation in the Middle East and tensions it's caused here) was in contrast to the friendliness of the staff inside. The fellow on the front desk was sincere in his welcome and, on my way out, seemed genuinely interested in my thoughts. The tour guide didn't mind escorting a lone visitor; rather than rattling off a spiel, he related things in terms of my (limited) knowledge. I don't generally like being guided but was endeared by the way he'd describe a holiday or custom then talk about how it's done in his family today.

The S/J/M feels like a temple inside, with split levels gradually spiralling upward to the roof. The ground floor tells the story of Jewish people in Australia from the 16 convicts who arrived on the First Fleet. The space above is devoted to the events surrounding the Holocaust (including the Nazi war trials and formation of modern-day Israel). These exhibits move from general information to personal memoirs until you reach the memorials.

It goes without saying the Holocaust material was extremely moving; I can't imagine how much more so it must be for a Jewish person whose family was involved. For me, it was surprising to learn of the huge number of concentration camps in countries other than Germany (with Denmark being a heroic exception in their refusal to hand over citizens to the Nazis). Some of the photographs - such as one of Lithuanian nationalists publicly beating Jews to death with iron bars simply for being Jews - made me ashamed to be human. Some shots I glimpsed from a distance and couldn't bear to look at up close.

For all the cordiality downstairs, the Sydney Jewish Museum had a deep sadness at its spiral heart - as I knew it would. I left feeling troubled, still wondering how six million could have been systematically slaughtered and if, had I been alive back then, I would've had the courage to do or say a thing.

You must be Jerky-ing!

My neighbours would have heard repeated outbursts of cruel laughter from my flat this evening as I listened to "The Jerky Tapes", the little-known sixth album from prank phone call legends The Jerky Boys.

I only found out about this 2001 CD while researching a small item on the now-splitsville Jerkies for work last week. Let me tell you, it was a discovery akin to finding a prehistoric coelacanth swimming in the Indian Ocean. I alerted my friend PG, also a devotee, who immediately tracked it down and sent me a copy.

"T/J/T" is different to the other five official releases - there are fewer calls, but they're longer and more elaborate.

First time through, my faves are those involving a florist desperate to deliver a wedding table centrepiece but unable to reach Harry, the man who ordered it, or get his address.

She's passed between four of his utterly unhelpful acquaintances - his gay lover Jack (outraged/incredulous about the marriage), his building superintendent Tarbash (who, when the florist reveals a racist streak and accuses him of not being able to speak English properly, challenges her to define the word "iconoclast"), his son Scott (or is it just Jack again?) and his old buddy Bob (who gets into a dust-up with Tarbash).

The woman is forced to listen to nonsense about shopping for a "bottle of schmaltz", cutting away a section of floor to house an artistic volcano, schoolroom beatings, the nice feeling of open pores after a shower, and so on.

At one point, Jack gives her part of the address before pretending they've been cut off; at another, "Harry" is heard in the background, but gets called away to move an 18-wheeler that's blocking traffic.

Misguided genius.

Full house

Had the boys - DL, CM, AM, SC and PB - around for a low-stakes poker night. We started with a Texas hold 'em tournament (no limit; no rebuys), followed by dealer's choice ($5 bet/raise limit; rebuys OK). CM took out the former, while DL had the biggest stack when time was called in the latter. I believe I made the most of my mediocre cards but was undone by a monster Anaconda pot where I was wrongly convinced my opponent was bluffing. Much junk food (pizza, chips, chocolates) was munched and copious quantities of alcohol (Carlton Draught, Toohey's Extra Dry, Beez Neez, Holsten, Mercury Draught, Fighting Cock B&C, Woodstock B&C, Happs Margaret River PF Red 2004) consumed. CM's green felt poker tabletop was popular as always, though none of us quite mastered his new electric shuffling machine. My nudie playing cards (a freebie from "Arena" magazine) were a good perv if hard to read from a distance, and no-one seemed to mind me slipping the "Spamalot" soundtrack in among the indie pop CDs. Tomorrow, I clean up the mess, secure in the knowledge poker-tastic times were had...and that it won't be my turn to host again for another six months :-)

A bit on "Bleach"

I'm up to volume 14 of the manga "Bleach", which was recommended to me by my friend RS. In ultra-simple terms, I'd describe it as "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" shifted to Japan, with a male lead, larger supporting cast, stranger foes and an elaborate system of rules governing the world of the supernatural. It's topnotch storytelling and I couldn't stop reading even if I wanted to. My affection for "Bleach" has reached the point where I'm even prepared to consider related merchandise, something I no longer do very often. Today, with the change from grocery shopping, I bought a randomly boxed "Bleach" figure from Japanese model store Astro Hobby. Of the six possible characters, I got the one I wanted least - Renji Abarai. But out of the packet and onto the shelf, Renji's as distinctive and well constructed as the comic from which he originates.

Tea ceremony

Green tea's my leaf of choice these days but I used to venture further afield. After working my way through the Twinings range and much of what else was available at the local supermarkets, I took to visiting the The Tea Centre (Glass House Arcade, off the Pitt St Mall) on a weekly basis. Of their many house blends, I found the variety I liked best was quince. Recently, I picked up a packet (a small packet - it's $100/kg!) of the heaven-scented stuff for old times' sake and broke it out after dinner tonight. Settling down with a full pot, my fave mug and a new videogame mag was bliss...for a while. Glutton that I am, I made it too strong and drank too much and now I'm buzzing. There's a lot to be said for dainty cups of green tea.

Forgive me, Master Yoda

It's Census Night in Oz. I filled mine out online because that was the easiest way.

When I completed the previous census, in 2001, I ticked "Other" for religion, then wrote "Jedi" in the additional information box underneath.

In the weeks beforehand, an e-mail had circulated encouraging people to do this in the hope the Australian Bureau of Statistics would recognise the Jedi way (whatever that might be). It'd been two years since "The Phantom Menace" and rumours were flying like pod racers on Tatooine re: "Attack Of the Clones", fuelling my passion. I "reasoned" that since I thought about "Star Wars" every day but couldn't say the same for any religion, it was most truthful to put Jedi.

Add to this the fact I was nearing 30, going through a first-third-of-life crisis and unable to afford a convertible sports car (I settled for backpacking most of the way around New Zealand).

In tonight's census - forgive me, Master Yoda - I didn't answer Jedi. I put Catholic, which is what I was raised.

I haven't started going to church again or anything, but I find myself thinking about it regularly, even missing it.

There's always going to be a connection there for someone who was head altar boy and being steered towards deacon-hood (and eventually priesthood) before I gave up on Sunday mass.

Sometimes I wonder if we can ever separate ourselves from what we were taught as kids - whether by religion teachers and the local parish priest or a little green guy who lived in a galaxy far, far away.

Uninspired/inspired

Don't feel like writing much today.

For one thing, I'm too busy listening to the album "Alright, Still..." by Lily Allen. Turns out those 50,000 positive reviews were right. Who'da thunk it?

As far as recent Britpop goes, it's right up there with Hard-Fi's "Stars Of CCTV" and the Arctic Monkeys' "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not". But it isn't really like either - Lily has her own style. Mucho style, mucho talent. Trust me.

Busted!

The three pros I was rooting for in the WSOP are all out. Daniel Negreanu finished 229th. My fellow countryman Joe Hachem was 238th. Jon "Jonny Magic" Finkel somewhere below that (can't find his exact ranking).

Those results will sound better when I tell you there were 8773 entrants!

There are 214 players left at this stage. My buddy DL will be happy as the lovely Annie Duke (his poker pin-up) is sitting in 23rd position.

Dante's inferno

Kevin Smith's "Clerks II" screenplay sat in a pile of comics on my bedroom floor for a week before I picked it up. I didn't put it back down till I'd reached the in-joke at the end of the credits. Why was I so captivated?

I don't think it was the story, which is a simple premise with an inevitable conclusion. The Quick Stop convenience store from "Clerks" burns down, so Dante and Randal seek alternative employment flipping burgers at Mooby's. Meanwhile, Dante's been offered an instant new life in Florida - marriage, home, career - by his hot-but-totally-controlling fiancee Emma. Naturally, Randal doesn't want him to go. Neither does his cool-and-totally-not-controlling boss Becky. And, if he's honest with himself, Dante doesn't really wanna go, either...

A measure of the script's appeal lies in the main characters. Dante, to borrow Smith's words, is "the perfect straight man" - a guy who doesn't go outta his way to attract attention or piss people off but just gets on with things. Randal, although well-intentioned, can't help being cynical, engages mouth before brain and will blurt out your sexual secrets at the worst possible second. The strength of the pairing is that, at the end of the working day, the two can forgive each other anything.

The supporting cast is also highly entertaining. Jay and Silent Bob loiter outside this store just as they did the old one, having found God but lost none of their filthy stoner charm. Emma is the designer babe all fanboys wish they had the chance to turn down; Becky the rare chick who'll put up with pop-cultural obsessions and childish pranks and see the inherent good in a slacker like Dante. Bottom-rung Mooby's staffer Elias is naive and innocent a la Woody from "Cheers", but in a unique Christianity-meets-Transformers-worship way. Unlike in real life, every customer is memorable.

However... As much as "Clerks II" made me care about and laugh with its cartoony characters, the thing I like best of all is the message between the dialogue: that it doesn't matter if you're stuck in a boring/repetitive/low-paying job, there's no limit to what you can imagine and discuss - or the richness of your friendships. That's the spirit in which Kevin Smith makes movies and why I'll watch (or read) anything he does.

Except "Jersey Girl".

Joust not good enough

The Knights lost. Not the first-grade side - they don't play till Sunday arvo. I mean our Premier League (reserve-grade) team. I stood on the grassy hill at Henson Park Oval, Marrickville and watched them go down 38-16 to the Newtown Jets, despite having an equal share of ball possession throughout the game. It wasn't a big surprise as they were in second spot on the ladder and we were in ninth. And Heno has other consolations - like hanging out with my mate AP and the guys; talking publishing, sport and music; drinking cheap cans of KB Lager (favourite of "The Footy Show"'s Reg Reagan); then grabbing dinner at one of the many beaut restaurants in Newtown (this time, Vietnamese at Thanh Binh). Pity about the Knights, though.

[To the tune of "Speed Racer"]

Go Kid Poker! Go Kid Poker! Go Kid Poker, go!

As I type, Daniel "Kid Poker" Negreanu is hanging in there at the 2006 World Series Of Poker (no-limit Texas hold 'em championship). One of the most likable guys on the tour, I'd love to see him go the whole way.

Former Magic pro Jon Finkel is also doing well.

Last year's champ, Aussie Joe Hachem, ain't beaten yet.

The best coverage I've found is at www.cardplayer.com.

That was Ben, this is now

In his 1993 live show (which I have on audiotape), comedian Ben Elton's theme was "the cover-up". His topics were:

The British PM (John Major), a Rover car ad, garnishing food for the sake of it, doing a big poo, experimenting with drugs, experimenting with lager, KFC Popcorn Chicken, video trailers, that voiceover guy, the lure of a mute TV, the British government ('Tory), The Ministry Of Crap Design, teapots, condom varieties, family planning, teapots (again), wet spots, wet bits, useless dispenser napkins, shiny toilet paper, sexual sensitivity and a possible aid, cosmetic surgery, tall models with short rock stars, the fashion industry, "Baywatch", bikini waxes, penis extensions, cheating on "Cosmopolitan" surveys, Sod's Law, pissing on the floor at 3am, sleeping naked, Findus frozen foods, accidentally spitting on people, the joy of receiving a parcel, biodiversity, Antarctic right whales, is God a man?, pap smear tests, menstruation, tampon adverts, tampon packaging, if men had periods, pregnancy, post-baby bodies, Rectinol, if God was a woman, the female attitude to hot chips, talking in toilets, homophobia, nerves, Antarctic right whales (again) and their lovemaking.

In his current live show (which I saw at the Theatre Royal on Thursday night), BE's theme was "get a grip". His topics were:

The size of a Mars bar, hold messages, options menus and what they should offer, creationism, intelligent design vs menstruation, is God a man?, birth, builder time and dog time, East London library becomes "idea store", multitasking, astrology, the star sign of the dickhead, conspiracy theories/nuts, was Lady Di murdered?, the fake moon landing, Area 51, aliens abducting arseholes, George W. Bush's response to 11/9, Tony Blair's, John Howard's, Howard's glee at being involved in US affairs, air marshals, declaring war on a concept, making space on London trains, democracy, the Royal Family, people who want to lead vs people who have no choice, Bob Geldof's Irish accent, BG with a Dorset accent, Bono's Irish accent, B with a Leeds accent, The Edge's school days, 24-hour drinking in England, European cafe-style drinking, the standard drink and binges, why old people swear and make strange noises, unwanted hair, involuntary farts, gym-goers with too many muscles, fat Batman, unrealistic heroines, Buffy The Lezo Vampire Bouncer, Lara Croft's breasts, reality TV shows in reverse, getting a medical, what doctors really think, an unexpected prostate exam, Ben Elton's career as a series of pube gags, cosmetic surgery, Sharon Osbourne, Jordan, growing boobs, silicon lips, unblocking a toilet with Melanie Griffith, bikini waxing, lower-back tattoos, spam e-mail vs snail mail, penis enlargement, giant penis tangles, cute girls in British army propaganda, old rockers becoming dads, getting children off to school/bed, parents desperate to relax, shopping, Tupperware containers, "I love you, Dadda", why toilet rolls are safe for kids, McDonald's is not a deli, big junk food, big TVs, big 4WDs and their adverts, the size of a Mars bar (again), Newton's Third Law Of Motion.

Yes, he covers some old ground and is still preoccupied with our bodies. However, with both monologues clocking in at around 2.5 hours, it should be clear the latest contains many more ideas. I won't attempt to repeat specific jokes as they wouldn't work without Elton's vocal gymnastics (no-one talks about how good his accents and impressions are). However, I will repeat a beaut heckle of sorts...

The scene: It's 10 minutes into the show and there are five seats in the middle of the front row still empty. Four people are ushered through a side door, make their way to the spot and sit down. Elton begins filling them in on what they've missed, then suddenly points to the one unoccupied seat.
Ben Elton: Is this bastard coming?
One of the four: No.
BE: That's fine. [Acting hurt and turning away] There are a lot of people who couldn't get tickets, that's all I'm fucking saying...

It tickled my perverse funnybone. Two hours and 20 minutes later, I felt pleasantly tickled all over.

Just like Mother used to make

My favourite Sydney restaurant is Mother Chu's Vegetarian Kitchen in Pitt St. Although I've never managed to stay vego for longer than three months, I love the variety of their dishes and how healthy the food makes me feel. Besides the obvious - vegetables, fruit and nuts - their chefs use tofu, tempeh, several mushrooms/fungi, gluten, konyaku and more to create a menu I haven't mastered after 20+ visits. Tonight, I went for the Taiwanese-style gluten and vegetables, a pleasantly sour (no, really) dish flavoured with chilli and ginger and heavy on the eggplant. Another nice thing about Mother Chu's is they've learnt that whatever I order, I want it with brown rice and green tea. They also no longer have to be asked to slip a fork in alongside my chopsticks.

Of course...

In the broader banquet of literature, no matter how much I like them, "Doctor Who" novels are just candyfloss. Sweet, but they'll never fill you up. I'm currently reading Lucius Shepard's "A Handbook Of American Prayer" and the writing is so exquisitely descriptive and convention-free, so loaded with meaning and potential, it's humbling for a hack like me.

Better and better

I described the first season of the new "Doctor Who" to whoever would listen as "almost perfect". I'm glad I added that qualifier because after three episodes the second series is already hitting higher highs. Just try watching "School Reunion" - the latest ep screened in Oz - without your tear ducts coming online.

The good news, and reason for this posting, is the spin-off novels appear to be following suit. Of the six Ninth Doctor books, two were good ("The Clockwise Man", "Winner Takes All"), three were indifferent ("The Monsters Inside", "Only Human", "The Stealers Of Dreams") and one was bad ("The Deviant Strain"). The first Tenth Doc book, Jacqueline Rayner's "The Stone Rose", is a huge improvement.

The excellent title refers to a statue of Rose in Roman garb that Mickey discovers in the British Museum, kickstarting a quest for its origin. Pages turn with the speed of a Dan Brown novel as Rayner fleshes out her ancient Rome, nailing the personalities of the Doctor and Ms Tyler. He equally fearless when confronting danger or making bad puns. She the perfect mix of street smarts and sympathy. Halfway through, when the reader's getting comfy with the setting, the historical romp suddenly becomes science fantasy. Thankfully, it never loses sight of what's most important and there are some touching scenes worthy of the show.