Cablog

Bali, again.

Rather than dissect the latest Bali bombings, which has already been done much more effectively by others, I'll simply offer my condolences to those victims of all nationalities affected. May the deceased rest in peace and the survivors have faith. Their sacrifice and grief won’t be forgotten in this War of Terror.

Fabulous Sydney

From the Swan’s football flag proudly flying on the Harbour Bridge to the pink feature lighting of State Parliament House, Sydney’s looking just fabulous. Daarrrling.

Buildings on Macquarie Street last night were bathed in various shades of red and pink. Old Sydney Hospital got the Swan’s colour about right, whilst the Mitchell Library veered towards a reddish pink. However Parliament House had no hesitation in going full pink.

In fact so pink is the display, I’m left wondering if they're actually celebrating the entry this week of New South Wales first openly gay female MP, rather than the Swan’s momentous victory. Or maybe, in an admirable demonstration of cost saving, the Government is simply killing two birds with one stone, by dually toasting a gay and football milestone together.

Speaking of which, around 5 pm on Oxford Street I picked up two twenty-something fellas, one of whom seductively waved his leg at me on approach. Cute. I’ve had plenty of drunken females do this but never a bloke. Needless to say he was pissed as a fart. Fortunately his mate, resplendent in a red Swans’s jumper, was sober and acting as a chaperone.

Right from the start the drunk was out of control, trying to reach me around the security screen, yelling out the window and generally acting the goat. Within two blocks he was asking me to loan him $50, promising to, ‘pay you back tomorrow’. I was sorely tempted to suggest he get off at The Wall and earn it, but thought better of it. Indeed, by this stage I was thinking of the nearest police station, fully expecting trouble.

Suddenly the back seat went dead quite and I feared the idiot was about to throw up. Glancing around I was relieved to see the sober guy tenderly embracing the drunk. He was good, knowing exactly how to settle the drunk down. ‘Down’ being the operative word. The drunk spent the remainder of the journey with his head in his mate's lap.

Me, I didn’t care what they were doing back there, anything for some peace and quiet. So on approach to their street it was no surprise to hear the sound of a zipper being closed. That’s fabulous Sydney this week. A football town.

(images enlarge)

UPDATE : Bob in Comments has pointed out the pink lighting campaign is in honour of Breast Cancer Month. Silly me.

Souped up

Western Victorian journalist Bernard Slattery finds a good news story amongst the usual dross. Supported by a warming image which will have you lighting the fire to soup-up.

Exploitation..?

It's so sad, our Kylie's got cancer. Thereby sending the media into a predictable feeding frenzy. Leading to the Victorian Govt issuing a fatwa against intrusive media coverage.

Question - if perchance her album, concert and lingerie sales increase as a result of the media exposure from this terrible disease, can it thus be claimed Kylie has shamelessly exploited her affliction ? 

For that matter, has Belinda Emmet, Oliva Newton-John or Delta Goodrem exploited their cancers ?

If you believe so, please feel free to explain how, using the current media furore enveloping Kylie as a reference point....

UPDATE : Tim Blair reports some idiot New York DJ made a sick comment on Kylie's condition. The punters aren't happy.

Vale Hack

A true American hero, Colonel David H. Hackworth, Infantry, United States Army(retired), has died. Ever since reading his best seller, About Face, detailing his exploits in Vietnam and a critique of obsolete military structures, he is someone I have held in high regard. He was special, a soldier's soldier. Hit the link to see why, plus view the guestbook.

Via Kev Gillet

On Being a Mum

Thinking of becoming a Mum ? Decided it's time to play in the Major League, see what all the fuss is about. Maybe you've no choice having fallen pregnant without warning or, maybe the 'ol clock has finally become unbearable. Or you're simply so in love that starting a family is the natural progression in your relationship.

For whatever reason a woman approaches motherhood, it always helps to hear from the voice of experience. Here's how one mother considered the news her daughter was planning a family...

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."...

(via email, author unknown)

Blog Widows

The development of automated publishing software, the platform on which blogs operate, has seen lives change overnight. And for many bloggers, their blogging has impacted on connections and partners in unintended ways. Simply put, blogging can create a class of partners I call, the Blog Widows.

My girlfriend is a Blog Widow. For her, blogging sucks. She is totally nonplussed by what to me is a big part of my daily life. Though when pushed she insists she’s happy for me, in spite of reservations of where it will lead.

Mainly though, I sense she resents the intrusion of such a time consuming player in our relationship. Which is entirely understandable given blogging bears the characteristics of 'an affair'.

Blogging can and often does, occupy some 4-6 hours of my time each day. This is an inordinate, some would even say unhealthy, amount of unpaid time to spend at a keyboard. So let me come straight out and say it - for me blogging is a drug. A drug which satisfies a life long desire to write and be published. Indeed, I’ve even set up a facility for blogging from my mobile phone. Hard core mate.

Fortunately for my blogging, The Angel and I don’t live together. She is a single mother raising 3 teenage children and a star who I love dearly. However when we do get together, she will wake alone in the middle of the night to the dreaded sound of keyboard tapping. Sadly, my occupation and body clock has me programmed to post by dawn.

It’s tough for her but what can she do. She’s in love with a blog addict, resigned to her lot as a Blog Widow. Consequently, I wondered if other bloggers had similar experience in their relationships to mine. So I contacted those on my Blogroll - here’s a list of responses, to which I’ll add more as they come in....

Whatagal !

Hot damm ! This girl knows how to make an entrance - check those boots ! And check those troops - she's loving every minute of it. Why is this woman single ???

At a recent Lebanese Cedar Revolution rally,

There was also an invitation from young Edgard Baradhy, for his heroine, Ms. Rice, to come to Beirut “and I am ready to take her for coffee."

Join the club Edgard. You've got lots of competition.

(Click image to enlarge)

CONDI UPDATE : This from Tina Brown in the Washington Post,

All the hype about Condi Rice's new rock-star persona is just because politics has lost its fizz. White House correspondents are bored. The newly self-infatuated bloggers are bored...

Is Tina Brown someone important..? She sure don't care for Condi,

Condi seems to have shed gender, shed race, shed the need for any visible emotional life. Her hobbies -- ice skating, chamber music -- are intellectually pristine and demurely glamorous...

Though Tina Brown loves Hillary Clinton. Let the catfights begin !

Adventure Girl

Brisbane Adventure Girl, listed on my Blogroll as Flight Attendant, has just posted some lovely self portraits.

She's sitting at home in The Middle East, at her PC and looking gorgeous.

Pay her a visit - with words and images she's a star !

One rough diamond

Last Wednesday around midnight a bloke hailed me in the City for the inner west. He was middle aged, wearing an unfashionably-cut black suit and employed a particular, old-style smoking mannerism. As I pulled over he gripped his cigarette between the thumb-tip and middle finger, took a last drag then nonchalantly flicked it away, before reaching for the front door.

Immediately I smelt alcohol as he climbed aboard. Yet I judged him only mildly pissed as he proceeded to inquire of my night. ‘Aw, just average mate’, I told him, ‘how was yours’. He leant back in the seat and in a contented voice said, ‘Aw, not bad. The Premier took me to dinner’. ‘What ?’, I said looking across, did I hear him right ? ‘Had a private dinner with Bob and Helena Carr’, he said matter of factly...