Today in Sydney's west, two police officers were attacked whilst attempting to apprehend a violent man who allegedy was on 'ice' that most harmful of substances. Whether or not the man was actually on the drug is in dispute depending on which news service one litens to.
Anyway, regardless, the officers tried to subdue the man who subsequently disarmed one of the officers of her baton, threw her to the ground and proceeded to try to beat the officer with her own weapon.
It's reported that he then attempted to grab the officers gun.
Luckily, a throng appeared and THEY were able to resstrain the man.
In contradiction to the initial claim, it was also claimed that the man, WASN'T in fact on ice but simply a schizophrenic.
However the whole affair raises a more urgent question. Not should women be in such forces (police in this case, armed forces full stop as as wider issue) but diminutive women - tiny five foot nothing bare slips of things who the average man could almost cartoon like, lift, invert and bang their head of the ground.
Police, on the treet at least, should be big, tough blokes; men who could strike fear into the normal man; men who, if called upon, could be jut as physical as any offender. And in the case of mentally disturbed people, 2 or 3 of the police of equal size would be needed.
This is not sexist or neanderthal. The bottom line is, small women simply do not have the strength to subdue anything but the most unagressive offender.
Yet in the name of sexual equality - which to men, women aren't, I'm sorry, the police FORCE now ressembles more of a society - a club with no restrictions to joining. No size limits. In the past these limits were 5' 5" for women and 5' 8" for men. But now Jimmy the dwarf can join up (and be beaten to a pulp by whomever).
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
THE MONKEY TREES
When I was a boy...
Newtownards lies in a basin surrounded by hills. To the south a top Scrabo hill stands proudly a tower of the same name. To the west, gently rolling hills, on the other side of which lies Dundonald and then Belfast (yep - that belfast); the last side of the horseshoe comprises an old lead mine, still with it's smelting towers littered over the hill.
At the open end of the "horseshoe" Strangford lough sits.
On the eastern side of the lead mine there is a smaller parochial quarry which manufactured cement. The thoughtful owners, more likely spurred on, nay ordered by the local council, have provided a line of trees separating the dusty quarry from the homes mere metres away. This copse had a variety of hardy kinds of tree from pine to oak to sycamore.
It is the sycamore which boasts the name in the title.
As kids, we did what kids then did; we climbed trees (did lots of other stuff too in fact, including stone fights, this, game? where we'd split into a group of two, separate by about 100 feet, build a barriacade out of what ever there was, and start hurling stones at one another - it was thoroughly enjoyable!).
We climbed all the trees in this little copse; one big mutha afforded a great view of the town as it thrust its way above its other protagonists for best sunseeking position.
At first we payed little attention to the sycamores, instead choosing to climb the big heavy limbed monsters (hey, we were wee lads!)
But inevitably we climbed and got bored with, everything else so as a matter of consistency even, we stared up at the tops of the flimsy trees as they sprouted into the sky.
Not very exciting we thought; wee small skinny things - whats the point? They only extended about 75% of the rest of the trees, ending in a virtual dark canopy. Nothing to see. Regardless we began to climb.
The trunks, about a foot wide at their base, became narrower, quickly, as we climbed and soon the slender trees began to sway under the weight of its respective wee lad.
Now the copse ran in a north south direction beside a road and in the dead centre lay a line of these flexible trees, each spaced about 2 or so metres apart (anyone see where I'm goin with this yet?)
And it wasn't long after we discover such flex that we wondered if we could swing enough to reach its nearest neighbour. This involved a 'splits' type position that was most uncomfortable as we stretched between one tree and another.
So we started to swing the treetop; leaning into it and pulling back hard, the tree would sway closer and closer. Physics would never allow them to touch but if we could just reach out...at the right time...just swing it hard and...GRAB!!!
Damn! Missed it. Okay...swing this way and that, more effort in and...GRAB! Yes. Now pull the tree towards me and stretch out my other leg aiming for the branch just above/below (it varied). My stretched to the point foot just touched the intended branch and now came the tricky bit, that if went wrong, would see this wee lad fall about 40 feet to the ground. (Y'know the way they say forests are carpeted with thick layers of vegetation and dropped foliage, with the intimation of "soft" and comfort? "They" obviously haven't fallen out of a tree before - at least not from 40 feet).
Balancing here, feeling like the subject of some medieval torture as my limbs are stretched by the opposing pulling trees, I prepare for 'take off' as it were. This involved letting go of one of the trees whilst pulling and kind of hopping at the same time. Almost aerial aerobatics unless my hands got confused in which case I'd float safely down to the floor LIKE A BRICK!!.
The released one would spring away quickly, shudder for moments and settle to a sway.
The one now carrying a wee lad also sprung away, though not as fast yet still with some haste, and with the added weight of the wee lad would spring back further and take longer to be still. The wee lad swinging on it often prolonged the ride.
We would do the same with each tree til we reached the end - then often turn around and do the same the opposite direction.
If memory serves, there were about a baker's dozen of these trees. Such fun. Such wholesome innocent fun.
Aaaahhhh....
Newtownards lies in a basin surrounded by hills. To the south a top Scrabo hill stands proudly a tower of the same name. To the west, gently rolling hills, on the other side of which lies Dundonald and then Belfast (yep - that belfast); the last side of the horseshoe comprises an old lead mine, still with it's smelting towers littered over the hill.
At the open end of the "horseshoe" Strangford lough sits.
On the eastern side of the lead mine there is a smaller parochial quarry which manufactured cement. The thoughtful owners, more likely spurred on, nay ordered by the local council, have provided a line of trees separating the dusty quarry from the homes mere metres away. This copse had a variety of hardy kinds of tree from pine to oak to sycamore.
It is the sycamore which boasts the name in the title.
As kids, we did what kids then did; we climbed trees (did lots of other stuff too in fact, including stone fights, this, game? where we'd split into a group of two, separate by about 100 feet, build a barriacade out of what ever there was, and start hurling stones at one another - it was thoroughly enjoyable!).
We climbed all the trees in this little copse; one big mutha afforded a great view of the town as it thrust its way above its other protagonists for best sunseeking position.
At first we payed little attention to the sycamores, instead choosing to climb the big heavy limbed monsters (hey, we were wee lads!)
But inevitably we climbed and got bored with, everything else so as a matter of consistency even, we stared up at the tops of the flimsy trees as they sprouted into the sky.
Not very exciting we thought; wee small skinny things - whats the point? They only extended about 75% of the rest of the trees, ending in a virtual dark canopy. Nothing to see. Regardless we began to climb.
The trunks, about a foot wide at their base, became narrower, quickly, as we climbed and soon the slender trees began to sway under the weight of its respective wee lad.
Now the copse ran in a north south direction beside a road and in the dead centre lay a line of these flexible trees, each spaced about 2 or so metres apart (anyone see where I'm goin with this yet?)
And it wasn't long after we discover such flex that we wondered if we could swing enough to reach its nearest neighbour. This involved a 'splits' type position that was most uncomfortable as we stretched between one tree and another.
So we started to swing the treetop; leaning into it and pulling back hard, the tree would sway closer and closer. Physics would never allow them to touch but if we could just reach out...at the right time...just swing it hard and...GRAB!!!
Damn! Missed it. Okay...swing this way and that, more effort in and...GRAB! Yes. Now pull the tree towards me and stretch out my other leg aiming for the branch just above/below (it varied). My stretched to the point foot just touched the intended branch and now came the tricky bit, that if went wrong, would see this wee lad fall about 40 feet to the ground. (Y'know the way they say forests are carpeted with thick layers of vegetation and dropped foliage, with the intimation of "soft" and comfort? "They" obviously haven't fallen out of a tree before - at least not from 40 feet).
Balancing here, feeling like the subject of some medieval torture as my limbs are stretched by the opposing pulling trees, I prepare for 'take off' as it were. This involved letting go of one of the trees whilst pulling and kind of hopping at the same time. Almost aerial aerobatics unless my hands got confused in which case I'd float safely down to the floor LIKE A BRICK!!.
The released one would spring away quickly, shudder for moments and settle to a sway.
The one now carrying a wee lad also sprung away, though not as fast yet still with some haste, and with the added weight of the wee lad would spring back further and take longer to be still. The wee lad swinging on it often prolonged the ride.
We would do the same with each tree til we reached the end - then often turn around and do the same the opposite direction.
If memory serves, there were about a baker's dozen of these trees. Such fun. Such wholesome innocent fun.
Aaaahhhh....
Sunday, August 12, 2007
TRIVIA
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A BLAST FROM THE DISTANT PAST
WHO IS MADAME CHOLET?
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First right answer gets a prize
A BLAST FROM THE DISTANT PAST
WHO IS MADAME CHOLET?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First right answer gets a prize
THE SUNDAY RAG
Okay, let's have a look-see.
Front page headline has Loti Tuquiri's 'exclusive' interview regarding an incident outside a nightclub that left a cabbie fighting for his life in hospital. That increasingly familiar 'king hit' resulting in the man falling and cracking his head has been deemed responsible.
Tuquiri claims to have been in his room and frankly I'm not that interested in the story - especially from this rag, but it illustrates again (it's been happening frequently) what happens when one brings league players into the 'game they play in heaven'. These players, along with their talent, bring their constitution, which when fuelled by our old friend, the drink, is not just illustrated, but demonstrated (usually resulting in some poor sap being clocked or worse -as in this case).
Enough on that, next:
Page 3 has a picture (two actually - before and after shots) of Angelina Jolie, that fantasy of most men, looking voluptuous in 2004 and veritably emaciated now. She claims it's because of the death of her mother to ovarian cancer. Whatever the reason, she looks ill. Tch, rich people, it's just sooo hard, eh?
Politics next few pages as the federal election approaches. I tried to speak of this before but still haven't been able to locate sufficient interest (I'm sure I had some around here somewhere!)
Hmmm...not really that much in here today. Macdonalds are getting a serve again, and there accompanies a picture of this enormous burger with...let's see... 1, 2,...8, that's right, 8 beef patties in it. The chap's head is virtually hidden, hoho. Y'know, we have a mouth, and we have a burger; there are parameters to follow here. Unlike snakes, our jaws don't unhinge and there is a limit to size. We're not in a 'wimpy' cartoon here.
Maccas (to use the Ozzie vernacular) has plenty of money and influence - I've no doubt they'll manage to sidestep this accusation. Free burgers for a year, sir? That'll do nicely!
Oh dear. In the middle pages is a report on Madeline - remember her? The 4 year old girl snatched from her room in Portugal?
Her parents, Gerry and Kate, have been being quizzed after sniffer dogs, it's claimed, found traces of blood on the walls of the room from which she was taken. Conversely, I heard a radio report that claimed the blood was discovered by British detectives brought in to help - with the aid of the special lighting equipment that highlights such traces. Don't suppose it matters who found it really.
It hasn't been reported as yet to whom the blood belongs. That's important I would think. I'll be waiting for that.
But things appeaar to be the same - no leads to speak of and no closer to finding the girl. Breaking news just now have the Portugese police making the claim that Madeline probably is dead. I hope not, we all of us really can't give up hope - not until a body is found.
Afghanistan's written about in a small piece in the 'world' section. As an indication of where things are going regarding this (that being ONgoing with no end in sight) it doesn't rate as anywhere near front page material anymore. I've said all there is really so I'll not repeat myself other than to sigh resignedly as I once again have my theories confirmed.
Something a bit lighter tucked away at the bottom of the page. Cho Yu-long, a Taiwanese plumber, has been jailed for 3 months for stealing 10,000 pieces of womens' lingerie. Hoho
When police arrived to answer a complaint from a neighbour about the noise from a party, they found - "a mountain of womens' lingerie of different sizes".
Turns out Mr Yu-long had been stealing the garments from self service launderettes for the past five years. (How does that work? Did he peruse from a distance for the perfect item or was it more of a 'smash and grab' sort of thing? What if he got some old granny's undies? Did he put them back?)
That's about it. The sum total of my interest in this Sunday's weekly rag. Boyo, those 'journalists' need to get out more!
Front page headline has Loti Tuquiri's 'exclusive' interview regarding an incident outside a nightclub that left a cabbie fighting for his life in hospital. That increasingly familiar 'king hit' resulting in the man falling and cracking his head has been deemed responsible.
Tuquiri claims to have been in his room and frankly I'm not that interested in the story - especially from this rag, but it illustrates again (it's been happening frequently) what happens when one brings league players into the 'game they play in heaven'. These players, along with their talent, bring their constitution, which when fuelled by our old friend, the drink, is not just illustrated, but demonstrated (usually resulting in some poor sap being clocked or worse -as in this case).
Enough on that, next:
Page 3 has a picture (two actually - before and after shots) of Angelina Jolie, that fantasy of most men, looking voluptuous in 2004 and veritably emaciated now. She claims it's because of the death of her mother to ovarian cancer. Whatever the reason, she looks ill. Tch, rich people, it's just sooo hard, eh?
Politics next few pages as the federal election approaches. I tried to speak of this before but still haven't been able to locate sufficient interest (I'm sure I had some around here somewhere!)
Hmmm...not really that much in here today. Macdonalds are getting a serve again, and there accompanies a picture of this enormous burger with...let's see... 1, 2,...8, that's right, 8 beef patties in it. The chap's head is virtually hidden, hoho. Y'know, we have a mouth, and we have a burger; there are parameters to follow here. Unlike snakes, our jaws don't unhinge and there is a limit to size. We're not in a 'wimpy' cartoon here.
Maccas (to use the Ozzie vernacular) has plenty of money and influence - I've no doubt they'll manage to sidestep this accusation. Free burgers for a year, sir? That'll do nicely!
Oh dear. In the middle pages is a report on Madeline - remember her? The 4 year old girl snatched from her room in Portugal?
Her parents, Gerry and Kate, have been being quizzed after sniffer dogs, it's claimed, found traces of blood on the walls of the room from which she was taken. Conversely, I heard a radio report that claimed the blood was discovered by British detectives brought in to help - with the aid of the special lighting equipment that highlights such traces. Don't suppose it matters who found it really.
It hasn't been reported as yet to whom the blood belongs. That's important I would think. I'll be waiting for that.
But things appeaar to be the same - no leads to speak of and no closer to finding the girl. Breaking news just now have the Portugese police making the claim that Madeline probably is dead. I hope not, we all of us really can't give up hope - not until a body is found.
Afghanistan's written about in a small piece in the 'world' section. As an indication of where things are going regarding this (that being ONgoing with no end in sight) it doesn't rate as anywhere near front page material anymore. I've said all there is really so I'll not repeat myself other than to sigh resignedly as I once again have my theories confirmed.
Something a bit lighter tucked away at the bottom of the page. Cho Yu-long, a Taiwanese plumber, has been jailed for 3 months for stealing 10,000 pieces of womens' lingerie. Hoho
When police arrived to answer a complaint from a neighbour about the noise from a party, they found - "a mountain of womens' lingerie of different sizes".
Turns out Mr Yu-long had been stealing the garments from self service launderettes for the past five years. (How does that work? Did he peruse from a distance for the perfect item or was it more of a 'smash and grab' sort of thing? What if he got some old granny's undies? Did he put them back?)
That's about it. The sum total of my interest in this Sunday's weekly rag. Boyo, those 'journalists' need to get out more!
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
THE MAN
Aka Anthony Mudine, the once rugby league star turned successful boxer. His stellar carreer is facing ruin because he has got an eye infection that has the risk of permanently damaging his sight. Nightmare. Love him or hate him (and a lot do) I wouldn't wish this on anyone - the loss of sight.
But the funny thing is (funny peculiar not funny haha) that the reason for the infection was because Mr Mudine cleaned a contact lens by putting it in his mouth, then inserting it into his eye. Let's not even consider where his mouth might have been hoho. Do not mess with your eyes and be very careful what your bring in contact with them. Cleanin it with your mouth indeed.
DOH! Anthony.
But the funny thing is (funny peculiar not funny haha) that the reason for the infection was because Mr Mudine cleaned a contact lens by putting it in his mouth, then inserting it into his eye. Let's not even consider where his mouth might have been hoho. Do not mess with your eyes and be very careful what your bring in contact with them. Cleanin it with your mouth indeed.
DOH! Anthony.
SPEEDING
Recently there was a terrible accident on the Great Western Highway east of Penrith. An elderly couple were killed when two 'hoons' drag racing each other slammed into the couples' car when it pulled across the speedsters.
The hoons have been arrested and subjected to the kind of vitriol normally reserved for paedophiles. There has been talk of confiscation of the offenders' vehicles - the police chief even going as far to suggest that the vehicles should be compacted and dropped on the owners' front lawn. A tad over-reactive methinks and just another indication of a goverment bereft of ideas.
It has been all over talk radio. People ringing in with condemnation of the two men. What HASN'T been mentioned is that the elderly couple - pulled out illegally in front of the two cars. This is typical of the older driver who meanders around the country not really knowing what's going on around them. I remember a cartoon from some time ago called Mr Magoo; in this 'toon, Mr Magoo just drove around leaving chaos and mayhem behind him yet completely oblivious to it. This describes an elderly driver perfectly.
Whatever the reason, they don't seem to be aware of their surrounds, instead concentrating fully on the road ahead and nothing more. Of course these two hoons should have been more careful but the bottom line here is that the elderly couple pulled out in front of the vehicles. If this had have happened at legal speeds the old man would have been facing court now.
It's a dreadful thing that happened - no-one denies it but look, these older people - their eyesight, hearing, all their senses are...well, not as sharp as they once were and it has resulted in their deaths. I, for example, in fact any competent driver wouldn't have pulled out in front of the speedsters. I would have seen them from waay back, realised they were movin quickly, and waited.
Anyway, it is a shame but people die - that's it, that's all there is!
The hoons have been arrested and subjected to the kind of vitriol normally reserved for paedophiles. There has been talk of confiscation of the offenders' vehicles - the police chief even going as far to suggest that the vehicles should be compacted and dropped on the owners' front lawn. A tad over-reactive methinks and just another indication of a goverment bereft of ideas.
It has been all over talk radio. People ringing in with condemnation of the two men. What HASN'T been mentioned is that the elderly couple - pulled out illegally in front of the two cars. This is typical of the older driver who meanders around the country not really knowing what's going on around them. I remember a cartoon from some time ago called Mr Magoo; in this 'toon, Mr Magoo just drove around leaving chaos and mayhem behind him yet completely oblivious to it. This describes an elderly driver perfectly.
Whatever the reason, they don't seem to be aware of their surrounds, instead concentrating fully on the road ahead and nothing more. Of course these two hoons should have been more careful but the bottom line here is that the elderly couple pulled out in front of the vehicles. If this had have happened at legal speeds the old man would have been facing court now.
It's a dreadful thing that happened - no-one denies it but look, these older people - their eyesight, hearing, all their senses are...well, not as sharp as they once were and it has resulted in their deaths. I, for example, in fact any competent driver wouldn't have pulled out in front of the speedsters. I would have seen them from waay back, realised they were movin quickly, and waited.
Anyway, it is a shame but people die - that's it, that's all there is!
Friday, August 03, 2007
MUTTERS MOVIN ON...
Like the title says - I'm moving to pastures new. Where such pastures may be I'm yet to decide. Australia's my oyster to coin a popular phrase (would be the world - but transporting my boys remains a problem in the 21st century as it still involves a period of quarintine at an international destination).
And so to start me off, I have been defrauded of 20,000 dollars (allegedly in case any Century 21 lawyers are reading - and because the corroborators despite telling me of the ruse have no desire to continue assisting in an expose of the misconduct. Which begs the question - if they knew they weren't prepared to get involved and that it would only result in a he said/she said situation, read ineffectual, why the f**k did they tell me in the first place other than to stress me out?) by virtue of said agents disregarding any wishes of mine and snatching the first offer they can. Clearly working to their own agenda in violation of perhaps their most important tenet - that being that they would strive to achieve the best possible price for the client's property.
Well, not only did they not strive for such but they intentionally withheld information concerning a second interested party who could be used as leverage to drive the eventual price a little higher. An agent of C21 actually directly lied to my face when I enquired about the feedback of the second party.
And from everyone from whom I've received an opinion I get reigned disinterest. "There's nothing you can do - best to just move on".
And when I approached their head office to complain, after the first reply that reeked of generic platitudes, I was given the finger o to speak. Nice, C21, very classy!
There has been a clear violation of ethics here and it seems I have no recourse so I'm taking the only option available to me and that's to describe events here on my little blog. If I can dissuade one person from using Century 21 as agents then maybe I'll feel I've achieved some sort of consolation.
So there it is; Century 21 in Springwood fail miserably as agents and if you have any desiree to access your home's full potential, use a different agent.
And so to start me off, I have been defrauded of 20,000 dollars (allegedly in case any Century 21 lawyers are reading - and because the corroborators despite telling me of the ruse have no desire to continue assisting in an expose of the misconduct. Which begs the question - if they knew they weren't prepared to get involved and that it would only result in a he said/she said situation, read ineffectual, why the f**k did they tell me in the first place other than to stress me out?) by virtue of said agents disregarding any wishes of mine and snatching the first offer they can. Clearly working to their own agenda in violation of perhaps their most important tenet - that being that they would strive to achieve the best possible price for the client's property.
Well, not only did they not strive for such but they intentionally withheld information concerning a second interested party who could be used as leverage to drive the eventual price a little higher. An agent of C21 actually directly lied to my face when I enquired about the feedback of the second party.
And from everyone from whom I've received an opinion I get reigned disinterest. "There's nothing you can do - best to just move on".
And when I approached their head office to complain, after the first reply that reeked of generic platitudes, I was given the finger o to speak. Nice, C21, very classy!
There has been a clear violation of ethics here and it seems I have no recourse so I'm taking the only option available to me and that's to describe events here on my little blog. If I can dissuade one person from using Century 21 as agents then maybe I'll feel I've achieved some sort of consolation.
So there it is; Century 21 in Springwood fail miserably as agents and if you have any desiree to access your home's full potential, use a different agent.
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