If you're bald and you know it shave your head

It's been a big week for the chrome-domes. Apparently James Blundell can still pull chicks twenty years younger than him despite looking like this:


But more exciting than that, fellow chrome-domer Kochie has been named Australian Father of the Year. Apparently, he was as stunned as I. This what he had to say about his big win:

"When I first discovered I had been nominated, I was hesitant - after all, I don't consider myself a perfect father. But when the Father's Day Council explained that they were looking for someone who was just a normal bloke, but proud of being a dad, I thought 'that's me' and I'm delighted to have a role in promoting fatherhood in Australia."

What a tool.

Obviously the fact that Koch(ie) has passed on a deficient gene pool on to his kids didn't weigh heavily on the minds of the Father's Day Council judges. People have been known to die for family honour, but I can't see that being a huge issue in the Koch(ie) household.

My eyes... the googles do nothing...

Breaking news: Hitler was right.

The latest news from researchers claims that blue-eyed people are better achievers and more academically successful than brown-eyed people:

People with lighter eyes 'more likely to achieve.'

PEOPLE with blue eyes are likely to achieve more in life than those with brown, say US scientists.

Scientists who conducted the tests said brown-eyed people performed better at reaction time, but those with lighter eyes appeared to be better strategic thinkers, the Daily Mail reported.

Brown-eyed people succeeded in activities such as football and hockey, but lighter-eyed participants proved to be more successful in activities that required skills in time structuring and planning such as golf, cross-country running and studying for exams, the scientists said.

Louisville University professor Joanna Rowe, who conducted the tests, said the results suggested an unexplored link between eye colour and academic achievement.

"It is just observed, rather than explained," she said.

"There's no scientific answer yet."

Bedfordshire University senior psychology lecturer Dr Tony Fallone, who has also studied eye colour, believed it should be taken more seriously as an indicator of personality and ability, the Daily Mail reported.

Kate has often mused about the crap that's paraded as research; for example, this. But this latest bit of "research" is far more serious than that, because the whole idea that a person's ability and personality can be inferred by their eye colour is just so racist that I'm choking on my own rage.

It angers me that that the simple publication of this shit somehow seems to validate it. There is no rational explanation for this and the researcher, Joanna Rowe, virtually says as much in her words: "It is just observed, rather that explained." I've observed plenty and that's why I publish my thoughts in a blog. Everyone knows it's the ramblings of a mad woman and they give it suitable credence as a result. But when studies like these, with no scientific validation, are printed in reputable publications, they are given more credibility than they deserve.

What good can possibly come from this? Free blue contact lenses for a few billion Asians? Will that make us all better strategic thinkers?

Slow death by a thousand lashes

Apparently the organisers of the Powderfinger and Silverchair concerts are having trouble getting approval to hold it at Claremont Showgrounds. Basically, there are noise restrictions and the Claremont Council has decided (by vote) that the concerts shouldn't go ahead at that venue.

In truth, the issue doesn't affect me directly because I couldn't give a toss about Powderchair, but I'm more concerned with how this is a perfect example of what's wrong with Perth. It's stuck with a insular, small-town mentality when it's clearly a city.

The whole anti-progress, anti-fun mentality in this city is sucking the life out of people aged 18-30. There is simply NOTHING to do here and the general attitude of people who aren't in this age group is "If you don't like it then fuck off."

And that's exactly what's happening. It's commonly referred to as the "brain drain," but the number of people aged 18-30 who are leaving Perth for better opportunities in work and fun is far more serious than that. It represents a good percentage of the lifeblood of this city looking elsewhere for basic life opportunities that a city the size of Perth should easily provide.

That's why I find it unsurprising that Perth has the highest rate of amphetamine use in Australia. There's no doubt that we're riding this economic boom for all that it's worth and that we're cashed up beyond belief. But the simple truth is, once the house and car have been purchased, what else is there to spend our money on? A West Coast Eagles or Fremantle Dockers membership? Because a game of footy is practically the only thing we can do on a Sunday afternoon in Perth.

To me, the solution is to this problem starts with a few basic steps. Extend the retail trading hours, build a decent sports stadium, invest serious money in the arts, develop the foreshore around the Bell Tower and sink the railway line between Northbridge and the city.

And we need to think with a big city mentality. If Perth is going to be more than a place where people come to die then we need to start doing something about it now.

Your next Top 40 hit

I see that Delta Goodrem is sexing up her image in preparation for the release of her latest single (help me Jesus). Here is the result:


It worked a treat for Nicki Webster so Delta Goodrem shouldn't have any trouble whatsoever.

I wonder, what are the odds that her new song is:
(a) a power ballad;
(b) about overcoming adversity; and
(c) a hit on Mix 94.5?

Face-KRudd - P.R. Guru

I'm officially a fully-fledged Facebook addict, having spent many happy hours prowling profiles like the weirdo perv that I am. Who I've been prowling would have remained a closely guarded secret, except that this blog entry is about Facebook and Kevin Rudd, so you do the math.

I've read in various publications that KRudd is a bit of a hit on Myspace and Facebook. For example, he has more online friends than John Howard (and I) (combined).

Now whether Facebook KRudd (Face-KRudd) is actually the online persona of a public relations shyster who's handy with Google and the search terms "18-25 year old, popular television" remains to be seen but there are several clues pointing to it.

For example, Face-KRudd's favourite TV shows are: The Simpsons, Family Guy and The Chaser's War on Everything. Likewise, Face-KRudd's favourite movies include Muriel's Wedding and The Castle (READ: Aussie Battler).

The tactics seem to be working though. I thought I'd bestow the honour of being my online friend upon Face-KRudd . Sadly, my non-sexual advances were rejected because he has has exceed the 5000 friend limit.

It looks like my half-arsed efforts to ingratiate myself with The Labor Party will have to wait a while...

Homeless peasant has a rant.

There's been a lot of talk lately about the escalating cost of houses and rent. Basically, those of us who were too lazy or a few years shy of getting our arses into gear to buy a house have been left behind. And because houses are so bloody expensive, the people who do have a few lazy million to buy them are looking elsewhere for more profitable investments; so the cost of rent is getting ridiculous too.

I've been largely protected from all these goings on because I'm in a cozy rental agreement (thanks Mum). But it's seriously depressing to think that I'm going to be left behind entirely. A new report suggests that you need a combined household income of about $100K to buy a median priced house in anywhere in Australia... READ: if you're on a single income or in a single income family you're screwed.

Of course I'm kicking myself NOW that I didn't get into the market earlier. But spending my money was fun at the time, and who would have thought prices would jump 50 percent in a year?

And to all those fogeys who say young people expect too much for their first house: shut your piehole. If you're on the median wage of $55K a year you're barely able to afford a one bedroom flat in Perth, let alone a four by two.

To the landless underclass, I offer a solution: move back in with your parents and refuse to buy property of any sort. Demand will drop, prices will fall and then we can pick over the remains like the happy little vultures we are. Failing that, find yourself a partner, cross your fingers and bump up your combined salary to $100K a year (and don't ever get pregnant or sick).

Judy, you're a bint.

I'm a twenty-five year old cursed with the voice of an eighteen year old. It's especially evident when I talk on the phone, but it doesn't really cause me many troubles at all since I'm not employed in the telemarketing or phone sex industries . Actually it could be an asset in the latter industry but that's entirely off topic.

Having a baby voice is only ever a hindrance with faced off against that disgusting mutation of woman known as The Office Bint.

The Office Bint is a walking, breathing contradiction. She hates the world for being stuck in a dead-end job where the only other living creature is a gerbera pot plant, drooping in the stifling stale environment of the reception area. Yet she simultaneously believes that her job, and hers alone, is the lifeblood of the organisation; that the correct ordering of a courier is of paramount importance (and interest) to the company.

The Office Bint is typically middle aged, resentful and addresses colleagues in a condescending tone of voice that is uniquely hers. Whilst she is mercilessly mocked in staff rooms, she is also treated with tip-toe like care, because her twenty-odd years of employment in the company has granted her dictatorial powers.

I had a run-in with an Office Bint today and it was horrible. She doesn't work in my office; thankfully it's a bint-free zone and if there were to be a bint here it'd be me, because I'm the only female in the office. She works for one of our clients and her withering tone of voice surely melted the phone line.

Whoever said that bullying ends after you finish school is a total pants on fire liar. The bully just takes on a older, bitchier form.

So Judy, I anoint thee an Office Bint. I feel safe enough to name you in Cyberspace because you are too dinosaur computer illiterate to ever discover my blog. I am looking forward to the day a hot young seventeen year old receptionist beats you to death with her annually allocated Bic pen.

Today's hero

Roger Hayden Haiku Dedication Post:

Number forty three
You are an unsung hero
Filled with purple pride

You defend Freo
And we defend you Roger
All Australian

Can you hear us shout?
You would make a good Captain
Better than Pavlich

Thank God Liza Minnelli isn't wearing a crop top.

Just call me Elsie Donovan

One of the strange by-products of writing a blog is that I feel the need to comment on everything.

In my pre-blog life I could passively read the Letters to the Editor in The West without so much as a grunt. The bigoted rants of Elsie Donovan from Bedford and the lunatic limericks from Gerry Cohen of Carine merely made me think, "Don't they have something better to do in their geriatric years?"

A homophobic spit would be enough to rouse Kate into writing in on the odd occasion. I've always appreciated her efforts, but never enough to join in myself... until now.

My first Letter to the Editor was published today in The West and I'm a wee bit more pleased than I expected to be. They even left in my witless pun about irony which is ironic in itself.

So to Raymond E. Smith, thanks for the racist drivel you sent in to The West and I'm looking forward to our next bloodless spar.

Whilst we may not all agree on banal issues like global warming and third world poverty, I think we'd all agree that Tom Cruise is a sofa-hopping, fist-pumping freak.

So it sincerely cuts me up inside that the spawn of said freak is so damn cute:


It's a little disconcerting that mother and daughter have the same haircut though:


Two for one discounts now available at Just-Cuts' Hollywood branch.

Jade by name...

I have no problem whatsoever with the fact that my name is Jade, but I DO have a problem with the fact that my name is one letter away from "jaded." "Apt!" you may say, but due to my new-found endeavour to discover the "glass half full" view of the world, it's vexing.

I hate the fact that "jaded" conjures up an image of a haggard old horse on its way to the glue factory. I also hate that by association I may as well be called "Old Nag Nelly" and left out to the pasture.

It turns out I'm not that far off the mark. According to the Word Detective, "jaded," originally meant just "mare," but then came to mean "old, broken-down mare." As a metaphor, "jade" then was used to mean "worthless person," or, more specifically, "prostitute."

Which is all very amusing if your name is "Mary," "Frank" or "Joe," but my name is akin to "worthless". So I may as well smash that "glass half full" Stella-style into someone's face and get it over and done with.

Suddenly I see indeed KT Tunstall...

A few words about the worst song ever written

There are songs that simply grind your gears, and then there are songs that make your ears bleed.

Songs that grind your gears are exactly that: songs that piss you off enough to simply change the radio station or hijack an iPod. In this category I nominate the obvious offenders: James Blunt's You're Beautiful, Akon's Smack That etc etc...

Songs that make you want to do a Van Gogh provoke far more intense reactions, and are near-on defensible in court... "Your Honour, he was rocking out to Gasolina by Daddy Yankee so I beat him to death with my shoe." DISMISSED.

In the Songs that make me want to do a Van Gogh category, I nominate The Offspring's Pretty Fly for a White Guy. Give it to me baby? I don't fucking think so.

Introducing Detective Shaun Chan

There has been many occasions throughout my relationship with the delightful Shaun where he has been unable to attend social gatherings with my friends.

Some of you may have wondered, "Where the hell is he? He always seems to have something else to do."

Ladies and gentlemen, the mystery has been solved. Shaun has been moonlighting as an amateur detective; solving crime one tweed jacket at a time:


Eternal thanks to Kate for finding the pic.

Immigrants? Terrorists? It must be an election year.

John Howard must be rubbing his hands with glee.

First, a slap-dash indigenous health policy. Next, an immigrant doctor who's a terrorist suspect.

All he needs is a few refugees stashed away on the Pasha Bulker and he'll have the election sewn up.

Un-Austrayan

John Butler, Nicole Kidman and Missy Higgins. There's a certain class of celebrity to whom aversion is near-on un-Australian.

Add to the list: Rove McManus. I don't think anyone would argue with the fact that it was terribly sad about his wife and all, but it doesn't change the fact that his comedic skills are more Larry Emdur than Leno; his interviewing skills more Darryl Somers than Denton.

So as for him replacing Conan O'Brien ... well I say good luck, but the Logies are probably more your scene.

Concert for Diana

The point being what exactly?

In case you haven't heard, Prince William has made the most of his post-Kate Middleton singledom by organising a concert to mark the 10th anniversary of Princess Diana's death. The line-up includes Kanye West, Lily Allen and Joss Stone.

Now I'm not bagging the memory of a woman who could seriously work a skirt suit, but what exactly do these performers have to do with Diana? Lily Allen would have been about 13 when Diana was alive, Joss Stone even younger.

Which raises the question: who was musically relevant ten years ago?

Hanson - MMM Bop
Can't believe 10 years have passed since Diana's death? Then check out the facial hair on these guys

Third Eye Blind - Semi Charmed Life
First prize for mumbling

Chumbawamba - Tubthumping
You knew all the words back in '97, and you still do

Mighty Mighty Bosstones - The Impression that I get
Instant credibility from being on Clueless

As the good Tony Soprano said, "Reminiscing is the lowest form of conversation." So if you feel like joining me in the gutter, visit Pop Culture Madness.

And then a hero comes along...

In the words of a singer who starred in the cinematic classic Glitter and who also goes by the initials MC...

And then a hero comes along
With the strength to carry on
And you cast your fears aside
And you know you can survive

I think we ALL know who Mariah Carey was referring to:





It's hard to be a football genius AND a king amongst men but hero-Jeff makes it all look so easy.

The Inaugural Post

The first question one should ask when starting a blog is "Why am I doing this?"

And the answer to this question invariably is "because someone famous might read it."

So George, if you're reading this... call me.

Kisses xxx