Dear Honourable Member for Kingsford Smith,
Are we to see a concert, led by yourself, outside the offices of 'PTTEP Australasia' as we saw outside the offices of 'Exxon' after that famous oil spill? Or perhaps even a one-line comment in the news? The Minister for Environment has been strangely mute on the issue of the West Atlas oil spill which began on 22nd of August. It seems emergency has gone, apathy is rolling on within the Labor Party in regards to this disaster. Changing the system from within? Hardly.
Kind Regards,
John Keenan
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Beware Brisbane
I was watching the 2007 premiership....GEEEEELOOOOONNNGGGG!!!!! and was struck by how insightful Voss' comments were. He anticipated a number of passages of plays, remarked on how Geelong were winning the game and also picked Stevie J for the Norm Smith. The trade week this year further bears marks of Voss' far-seeing influence not to mention that luck break with the Fev trade. Big Mick must be praising the Egyptians for coming up with beer! Also if you look at the Lion's B&F it is the best, well mixed list of top 10 players that you could find outside the top 10 for the Carji Greeve. It will be an interesting, even season next year but look out for the Lions! If they don't have a premiership by the end of 2013, barring some great calamity, then I'll swim the length of the Adelaide River, crocs n all! Hah!
PG Out.
PG Out.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Cats Premiers 2009!
Well done Catters! Harder at the ball, always looking to take their opportunites and more polished in the end, this WAS their finest hour! Geeeeeeeloooonnnnngggg! The Greatest Team of All!PG Out.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The Fable of the Pool God and the Philosopher's Starter Motor
The Pool God, or PG as he was known, was the most handsome, smartest, most charismatic and envied being in all the land. Indeed his prowress with cue tip, dart tip, footy tip (and another tip which bears not mention in a fairy tale) was legendary. Legendary too was his pride and stubborness, inherited from his faeiry parents, the Magical Bald Brewer and the Kitchen Nymph Nuran Nahar Nisha.
One day PG drove his sky-blue enchanted chariot Mercedes through the Wilds of Northern Melburnia, pulled by four silver, barrel chested stallions, the strength of which tallied to more than a hundred and twenty regular horses, to the palace of Princess Kim, the young fair maiden that the Pool God was courting.
The Princess Kim greeted the god joyfully.
"Wither now, my PG?"
"To the land of beer and pizza my dear, for it is Friday and a tradition of my kine to sup on baked dough topped with meats, vegetables and fermented milk whilst imbibing brewed ales."
The two sprung into the Enchanted Chariot, only for the horses to let out a scream of anguish. Twice, thrice and many times more the god tried to set his horses into a trot and each time they let out a peal of the most ear-shattering tone, refusing to move.
"Shall I send for thy friend the smith, for he lives down the lane yonder?" Princess Kim inquired.
"NAY! This malady be beyond any mere smith!" PG exclaimed. "This is a curse forsooth placed upon my steeds! I shall have to journey to the dark lands of U-Wrekitia and retrieve the Philosopher's Starter Motor to undo this foul bewitchment."
The Princess frowned. "Are you sure you do not want a smith my lord?"
"I have spoken once on this, I shall speak not more!" PG replied.
And so on that eve the feast was brought to the god and the princess by an Indian riding in a stout little chariot of his own and he was paid well for his services.
The next day was a day of Tournament, where the God attended the Arena to watch the noble knights of the Order of Geelong contest with the barbarians of Bulldog. The barbarians conducted themselves with unusual skill, honour and trademark tenacity but the noble knights were more experienced, more polished, more disciplined and more determined when it counted and they emerged victorious. Hazzah!
PG toasted the victory with his kine but acquitted himself ere the witching hour so that better his chances of procuring the Philosopher's Starter Motor on the morrow.
Sunday dawned and PG was up early, saddling the faithful grey steed El Paj for his long and ardous day ahead. As he made his preparations King James of Kinnoull and the Lady Scilla passed him on their way to see the also rans of the Saintly Order of Kilda and the Savages from the Wood of Collingwobble in their contest at the Arena.
"How now, brother, where ye be hence?" King Jim greeted his brother thus. When informed, King Jim exclaimed, "Are ye sure it is a curse? Perhaps instead you would be better off with a wrench for the fly wheels of your chariot may be worn."
"NAY! No physical means may solve this riddle. It is a Philosopher's Starter Motor I say!"
As the PG rode out the mythical Kiwi Jonothon alighted on his shoulder.
"Whier you bie off to bro?" Again PG explained. "Yie sure it bie a startier motor bro? Sounds like it mieght bie a worn fliewhiel!"
This angered the PG such that he siezed the Kiwi and ripped its beautiful golden wings off. For ever and anon thus the kiwi would be known as a flightless bird.
Long the PG toiled in U Wreckitia, battling with the evil junkyard demons, that assailed the god with their siezed bolts for which even PG's mighty wrenches could not defend. Worse still, such was the cramped spaces in the tunnels below the Volvo graveyard that the PG could not wield his dragon-forged socket set, which surely would have prevailed over even the siezed bolts of the evil junkyard demons.
At last the sun slipped below the horizon and, lest he be trapped in the catacombs of the Volvo graveyard, the valiant PG, covered in dust, grease and blood, had to ride noble Paj back to the Kingdom of Kinnoull. Yet even as he slipped through the gates of U Wreckitia, the PG vowed that he would return.
The next day dawned and PG rode noble Paj to the Wizard of Bunning's. "Oh Wizard, do you have in this great palace of yours a wrench of the light of the moon, the magic and shape of which will allow me to work even in the catacombs beneath the Volvo graveyard in the land of U Wreckitia?"
The Wizard's apprentice replied, "Um. I don't think so....."
The PG smote the fool upon the spot then took a flask of elixer of RP7 and rode in anger and haste to U Wreckitia. Here again the PG did battle with the demons but as they hurled their siezed bolts, the PG held aloft the elixer of RP7, which did shine with a golden light, draining the bolts of their power. Furthermore, the catacombs had been widened during the night by the Fates, who had witnessed the PG's struggle and taken pity upon the valiant god. Triumphantly, the PG vanquished the demons and won through to the Altar of Reward, where the PG found a Philosopher's Starter Motor glowing in the darkness. Dutifully PG paid tribute to the Keepers of the Altar and to the Fates, before riding back to the Kingdom of Kinnoull.
Here Paj was watered, fed and handed to the grooms, for the next leg of the journey would be narrow and treacherous, and only the pack mule Mini Paj would be of use to the god.
Finally PG arrived back at the Palace of Princess Kim, who greeted him with delight, before offering food and water in light of the PG's great strivings earlier. The PG then set about laying the symbols that would precede the Rite of Starter Motor. As the sun slipped once more below the horizon the PG had at last readied himself for the final Rite of Starter Motor.
Suddenly the smith Peter appeared, for he and his wife had been invited to sup with the Princess that eve.
"Has thoust checked thy flywheel lord?" Peter queried.
"Nay." PG replied, this time in good spirits due to his victory in the catacombs below the Volvo graveyard in far away U Wreckitia.
"Perhaps we best check then, ere you perform the long task of the Rite, my lord."
"Very well smith, knock yourself out."
Dutifully the smith Peter attached a 22mm socket to his wrench and struck the wheel of Mercedes, once, twice, thrice.
"Try that my lord."
Willing to humour the good-natured smith, PG sprung into the seat of his chariot and lashed the enchanted horses with the reins. To the god's amazement the horses reared and tossed proudly, ready to pull Mercedes hither or tither.
Discreetly the smith returned to the banquet table.
Not wishing to press his luck, the PG turned his horses for home, rather then risk them falling prey to the same malady whilst waiting in the stables of the palace. As the Princess rushed out to bid her suitor farewell she did so with a smile playing upon her very kissable lips.
"May I say I told thou so my lord?"
Red-faced the god scowled. But such was his joy of victory, and such was the Princess' beauty in the rising moonlight that his trials were at once forgotten and, incredibly, his noble features brightened into a smile that could light the catacombs of the Volvo graveyard in far away U Wreckitia themselves.
"Once, only once and quietly my Princess."
"Told thou so," whispered the Princess, her lips curved from ear to ear in a cheeky grin.
The Pool God leant forward and kissed that grin before flicking the reins and driving Mercedes off into the twilight.
And they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
PG Out.
One day PG drove his sky-blue enchanted chariot Mercedes through the Wilds of Northern Melburnia, pulled by four silver, barrel chested stallions, the strength of which tallied to more than a hundred and twenty regular horses, to the palace of Princess Kim, the young fair maiden that the Pool God was courting.
The Princess Kim greeted the god joyfully.
"Wither now, my PG?"
"To the land of beer and pizza my dear, for it is Friday and a tradition of my kine to sup on baked dough topped with meats, vegetables and fermented milk whilst imbibing brewed ales."
The two sprung into the Enchanted Chariot, only for the horses to let out a scream of anguish. Twice, thrice and many times more the god tried to set his horses into a trot and each time they let out a peal of the most ear-shattering tone, refusing to move.
"Shall I send for thy friend the smith, for he lives down the lane yonder?" Princess Kim inquired.
"NAY! This malady be beyond any mere smith!" PG exclaimed. "This is a curse forsooth placed upon my steeds! I shall have to journey to the dark lands of U-Wrekitia and retrieve the Philosopher's Starter Motor to undo this foul bewitchment."
The Princess frowned. "Are you sure you do not want a smith my lord?"
"I have spoken once on this, I shall speak not more!" PG replied.
And so on that eve the feast was brought to the god and the princess by an Indian riding in a stout little chariot of his own and he was paid well for his services.
The next day was a day of Tournament, where the God attended the Arena to watch the noble knights of the Order of Geelong contest with the barbarians of Bulldog. The barbarians conducted themselves with unusual skill, honour and trademark tenacity but the noble knights were more experienced, more polished, more disciplined and more determined when it counted and they emerged victorious. Hazzah!
PG toasted the victory with his kine but acquitted himself ere the witching hour so that better his chances of procuring the Philosopher's Starter Motor on the morrow.
Sunday dawned and PG was up early, saddling the faithful grey steed El Paj for his long and ardous day ahead. As he made his preparations King James of Kinnoull and the Lady Scilla passed him on their way to see the also rans of the Saintly Order of Kilda and the Savages from the Wood of Collingwobble in their contest at the Arena.
"How now, brother, where ye be hence?" King Jim greeted his brother thus. When informed, King Jim exclaimed, "Are ye sure it is a curse? Perhaps instead you would be better off with a wrench for the fly wheels of your chariot may be worn."
"NAY! No physical means may solve this riddle. It is a Philosopher's Starter Motor I say!"
As the PG rode out the mythical Kiwi Jonothon alighted on his shoulder.
"Whier you bie off to bro?" Again PG explained. "Yie sure it bie a startier motor bro? Sounds like it mieght bie a worn fliewhiel!"
This angered the PG such that he siezed the Kiwi and ripped its beautiful golden wings off. For ever and anon thus the kiwi would be known as a flightless bird.
Long the PG toiled in U Wreckitia, battling with the evil junkyard demons, that assailed the god with their siezed bolts for which even PG's mighty wrenches could not defend. Worse still, such was the cramped spaces in the tunnels below the Volvo graveyard that the PG could not wield his dragon-forged socket set, which surely would have prevailed over even the siezed bolts of the evil junkyard demons.
At last the sun slipped below the horizon and, lest he be trapped in the catacombs of the Volvo graveyard, the valiant PG, covered in dust, grease and blood, had to ride noble Paj back to the Kingdom of Kinnoull. Yet even as he slipped through the gates of U Wreckitia, the PG vowed that he would return.
The next day dawned and PG rode noble Paj to the Wizard of Bunning's. "Oh Wizard, do you have in this great palace of yours a wrench of the light of the moon, the magic and shape of which will allow me to work even in the catacombs beneath the Volvo graveyard in the land of U Wreckitia?"
The Wizard's apprentice replied, "Um. I don't think so....."
The PG smote the fool upon the spot then took a flask of elixer of RP7 and rode in anger and haste to U Wreckitia. Here again the PG did battle with the demons but as they hurled their siezed bolts, the PG held aloft the elixer of RP7, which did shine with a golden light, draining the bolts of their power. Furthermore, the catacombs had been widened during the night by the Fates, who had witnessed the PG's struggle and taken pity upon the valiant god. Triumphantly, the PG vanquished the demons and won through to the Altar of Reward, where the PG found a Philosopher's Starter Motor glowing in the darkness. Dutifully PG paid tribute to the Keepers of the Altar and to the Fates, before riding back to the Kingdom of Kinnoull.
Here Paj was watered, fed and handed to the grooms, for the next leg of the journey would be narrow and treacherous, and only the pack mule Mini Paj would be of use to the god.
Finally PG arrived back at the Palace of Princess Kim, who greeted him with delight, before offering food and water in light of the PG's great strivings earlier. The PG then set about laying the symbols that would precede the Rite of Starter Motor. As the sun slipped once more below the horizon the PG had at last readied himself for the final Rite of Starter Motor.
Suddenly the smith Peter appeared, for he and his wife had been invited to sup with the Princess that eve.
"Has thoust checked thy flywheel lord?" Peter queried.
"Nay." PG replied, this time in good spirits due to his victory in the catacombs below the Volvo graveyard in far away U Wreckitia.
"Perhaps we best check then, ere you perform the long task of the Rite, my lord."
"Very well smith, knock yourself out."
Dutifully the smith Peter attached a 22mm socket to his wrench and struck the wheel of Mercedes, once, twice, thrice.
"Try that my lord."
Willing to humour the good-natured smith, PG sprung into the seat of his chariot and lashed the enchanted horses with the reins. To the god's amazement the horses reared and tossed proudly, ready to pull Mercedes hither or tither.
Discreetly the smith returned to the banquet table.
Not wishing to press his luck, the PG turned his horses for home, rather then risk them falling prey to the same malady whilst waiting in the stables of the palace. As the Princess rushed out to bid her suitor farewell she did so with a smile playing upon her very kissable lips.
"May I say I told thou so my lord?"
Red-faced the god scowled. But such was his joy of victory, and such was the Princess' beauty in the rising moonlight that his trials were at once forgotten and, incredibly, his noble features brightened into a smile that could light the catacombs of the Volvo graveyard in far away U Wreckitia themselves.
"Once, only once and quietly my Princess."
"Told thou so," whispered the Princess, her lips curved from ear to ear in a cheeky grin.
The Pool God leant forward and kissed that grin before flicking the reins and driving Mercedes off into the twilight.
And they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
PG Out.
Monday, August 31, 2009
You Beauty!
Another Tipster in the bag! Now for Catters to put another premiership in the bag!
PG Out.
PG Out.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Cycles
Well the Aussies have lost the fucking Ashes, again! And the Catters are in the top two, again! Hazaah! But though we have dropped only a mere four matches all season and have won 22 straight home games since rd 21 '07, apparently we are not as firm favourites as the last two years thanks to the shadow of injuries, the strain of three years at the top beginning to show.
Really we should have fucking won back to back and this year would have been our version of Brisbane's injury-plagued 04, an honourable loss but plenty of laurels to rest upon. None the less one premiership from three is a shite sight more than what we got outta the previous 44 years up to 07, so to say "JUST one premiership" is really stupidity taken to a high degree. BUT I think we will rally in the face of adversity and if the Geelong Football Club should last a thousand years they shall still look back upon the Cat's '09 premiership and say, "This was their finest hour."
Naturally after '09 with anticipated retirements, relocation and major surgeries to some players '10 will be a year of rebuild.
In cycles too has the ownership of the premier football prizes, the Tipster and Slaughterhouse followed. Being an inaugural year specialist it seems I have taken out both trophies in their first year. In '07 I took the Tipster by a huge margin over all and sundry, with Jimbob as I recall the closet in a distant second. Set of course to dominate the ensuing Tipsters forever and anon fate intervened to introduce that ridiculous bonus points bullshit. They're a lucky team at Hawthorn and the luck apparently extends to the fans, for Jimbob jagged a couple of 10s and despite a late charge in 08 by myself, 'King Jim' emerged victorious though I maintained I had more actual tips than he. In '08 after a scrap between Jimbob and myself, then a breakaway by PG, it was OMK with the valiant but fruitless late charge to finish a narrow second in the Slaughterhouse, yours truly taking it out, which is as well considering I fund the damn competition!
This year however it was OMK with the break, 1500+ points at its largest, and the great PG with the late charge, but after closing to within 180 points by round 20, the last two rounds and the Slaughterhouse of 09 belonged to the Old Man. This year also was the closest of the three Tipsters, but after Jimbob shot to a lead, this time the charge of the PG was better timed, taking top spot, with OMK riding in on my coat-tails to take second. The winner overall of that coveted and illustrious trophy we shall only know tomorrow, but if the Old Man is telling the truth tipwise with his proclaimed 4, and providing Rowdy Brown, aka Torrens Mudflats did not pull a miraculous ten out of the bag (In which case she deserves the damn trophy!) and knowing that poor Jim received only 3 this round, well it seems that based on that I have taken the Tipster two from three! Cycles cycles cycles! But I shall keep the champagne on ice till the official results tomorrow. The Old Man has been known to tell tall tales in his time after all.
Now back to the start, the cricket. I was musing over the diminishing performance of the Aussies and the rising stars of the Cheeseheads (South Africa) and Cheeseheads Lite (The Poms, who have more South Africans than Englishmen in their side). The thing is, we have won the past three ICC world cups. And right now the Aussie side, due to retirements of past greats, is at its lowest ebb. Whilst Katich, North and Haddin promise to be batsmen of the future, with Clarke set to take the next step, Hussey and Punter are on the decline, in addition we have no f/t leg spinner and perhaps consequently a bowling attack which has taken twenty wickets in a test only once in my memory out of four test series (Border-Gavaskar in the third-world, Cheeseheads over in Oz, Cheeseheads in Cheesehead land, Ashes in Kipperville). Willing to be corrected on that but certainly in those four test series our bowlers have not taken 20 wickets with anything near the consistency expected of an Australian attack. So now the usual shuffle shall begin. Selectors shall step down or finally get off their arse and make the hard decisions, new players and combinations shall be trialled, those previously assured of a spot shall find themsleves dropped. In two years time another Ashes and another World Cup will roll round and Australia will be ready and rearing no doubt. Conversely the Cheeseheads and the imitation Cheeseheads will be on the wane. We shall succeed once more! Gotta love the cycles!
And now one last cycle, I was awake now I sleep, till tomorrow, when I wake once more. Night night.
PG Out.
Really we should have fucking won back to back and this year would have been our version of Brisbane's injury-plagued 04, an honourable loss but plenty of laurels to rest upon. None the less one premiership from three is a shite sight more than what we got outta the previous 44 years up to 07, so to say "JUST one premiership" is really stupidity taken to a high degree. BUT I think we will rally in the face of adversity and if the Geelong Football Club should last a thousand years they shall still look back upon the Cat's '09 premiership and say, "This was their finest hour."
Naturally after '09 with anticipated retirements, relocation and major surgeries to some players '10 will be a year of rebuild.
In cycles too has the ownership of the premier football prizes, the Tipster and Slaughterhouse followed. Being an inaugural year specialist it seems I have taken out both trophies in their first year. In '07 I took the Tipster by a huge margin over all and sundry, with Jimbob as I recall the closet in a distant second. Set of course to dominate the ensuing Tipsters forever and anon fate intervened to introduce that ridiculous bonus points bullshit. They're a lucky team at Hawthorn and the luck apparently extends to the fans, for Jimbob jagged a couple of 10s and despite a late charge in 08 by myself, 'King Jim' emerged victorious though I maintained I had more actual tips than he. In '08 after a scrap between Jimbob and myself, then a breakaway by PG, it was OMK with the valiant but fruitless late charge to finish a narrow second in the Slaughterhouse, yours truly taking it out, which is as well considering I fund the damn competition!
This year however it was OMK with the break, 1500+ points at its largest, and the great PG with the late charge, but after closing to within 180 points by round 20, the last two rounds and the Slaughterhouse of 09 belonged to the Old Man. This year also was the closest of the three Tipsters, but after Jimbob shot to a lead, this time the charge of the PG was better timed, taking top spot, with OMK riding in on my coat-tails to take second. The winner overall of that coveted and illustrious trophy we shall only know tomorrow, but if the Old Man is telling the truth tipwise with his proclaimed 4, and providing Rowdy Brown, aka Torrens Mudflats did not pull a miraculous ten out of the bag (In which case she deserves the damn trophy!) and knowing that poor Jim received only 3 this round, well it seems that based on that I have taken the Tipster two from three! Cycles cycles cycles! But I shall keep the champagne on ice till the official results tomorrow. The Old Man has been known to tell tall tales in his time after all.
Now back to the start, the cricket. I was musing over the diminishing performance of the Aussies and the rising stars of the Cheeseheads (South Africa) and Cheeseheads Lite (The Poms, who have more South Africans than Englishmen in their side). The thing is, we have won the past three ICC world cups. And right now the Aussie side, due to retirements of past greats, is at its lowest ebb. Whilst Katich, North and Haddin promise to be batsmen of the future, with Clarke set to take the next step, Hussey and Punter are on the decline, in addition we have no f/t leg spinner and perhaps consequently a bowling attack which has taken twenty wickets in a test only once in my memory out of four test series (Border-Gavaskar in the third-world, Cheeseheads over in Oz, Cheeseheads in Cheesehead land, Ashes in Kipperville). Willing to be corrected on that but certainly in those four test series our bowlers have not taken 20 wickets with anything near the consistency expected of an Australian attack. So now the usual shuffle shall begin. Selectors shall step down or finally get off their arse and make the hard decisions, new players and combinations shall be trialled, those previously assured of a spot shall find themsleves dropped. In two years time another Ashes and another World Cup will roll round and Australia will be ready and rearing no doubt. Conversely the Cheeseheads and the imitation Cheeseheads will be on the wane. We shall succeed once more! Gotta love the cycles!
And now one last cycle, I was awake now I sleep, till tomorrow, when I wake once more. Night night.
PG Out.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Settling In
Heh a good week, settling in at work, getting along well with the Paj, and got me first f/n pay nice and flawless like. Most of it is squirrelled away but some labile funds remain for expenses and cutting loose this weekend. Go CATS!
PG Out.
PG Out.
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