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.