I Still Like Portello

INTERIOR. DAY.

A lone BLOGGER stares at the screen of an open laptop. He notes the date of his last blog post and with a disbelieving look, checks his watch to confirm the current date.

BLOGGER

Crikey.

The BLOGGER opens the LiveWriter application on the laptop and looks blankly at the blank WYSIWYG interface.

BLOGGER

Sigh.

The BLOGGER begins to type. Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence.

BLOGGER

I shouldn't even offer an excuse as to why it's been so long. I don't really have one. Besides, any attempt to offer one would probably come off as self-serving and patronising. The fact is, I haven't felt like it.

The BLOGGER'S WIFE, an attractive, intelligent, kind and understanding woman enters the room.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Who are you talking to?

BLOGGER

No-one. I wasn't actually talking. I'm just typing. This is a meta-exercise in blogging using the form of a film script.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

It sounds pretentious.

BLOGGER

It could be. That's why it's a good idea to have a sympathetic character point that out. Representing the idea that it's pretentious within the piece itself can put the audience on side.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Yeah, definitely pretentious. Anyway, when did you start blogging again?

BLOGGER

I haven't really. The other thing I'm trying to do here is work out what I want this blog to be about.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

You're over the whole skepticism and atheism thing?

BLOGGER

No, not at all. I'm more active than ever in both those areas. And I still write about skepticism over at the Victorian Skeptics blog. I just think my focus needs to change. Writing on topics like that was about exploring my own understanding of them. And while my understanding has grown, it's also changed.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Maybe that's worth writing about.

BLOGGER

Maybe.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

What about all the other stuff? Like the Dead Pool. And holiday snaps.

BLOGGER

Well, the Dead Pool has its own blog ...

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Which you've also neglected.

BLOGGER

... and I think photos and whatnot work better on Facebook and Twitter. Mainly because it's easier to ignore them there.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Film reviews and general nerdiness?

BLOGGER

There'll always be a place for that.

The BLOGGER pauses and looks again at the screen. After a few seconds, he closes the laptop.

BLOGGER'S WIFE

Cup of tea?

BLOGGER

Love one.

THE END

Scientists call for Evolution to be taught in Sunday Schools

This is a short satirical article I wrote in a moment of whimsy. However, it’s been brought to my attention that the jovial nature of the piece is not necessarily clear. I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.

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In what is shaping up to be a major theological controversy, priests and ministers have hit back at the suggestion that they should include alternative ideas of species origin in their Sunday School classes.

For many years churches have taught only a traditional view of “Creation”, that the Earth and all humans, plants and animals were brought into existence over the course of 6 days some 6,000 years ago by a being referred to only as “God”.

This position has been challenged recently by the emergence of “Evolution”, a theory which maintains that the Universe and even the Earth are much older, and that humans and animals evolved over millions of years from simpler organisms.

Father Ralph McCluggage of Our Sacred Lady Church said:

“For years we’ve been happily teaching the biblical story of Creation to our children. They grow up with a clear understanding that the world began with a naked couple frolicking in a garden, a tree with fruit they weren’t supposed to eat and an evil snake. This story has everything they need to know: the origins of the universe, where all the plants and animals came from and why women shouldn’t be trusted.

This idea that we evolved over millions of years may be supported by mountains of physical evidence, but the fact remains that it says nothing about it in the Book of Genesis.”

After initial attempts failed to have Evolutionary theory taught alongside biblical Creation, scientists have taken a different tack and are now encouraging churches to “teach the controversy”.

Dr Miles Plankton of the University of Melbourne:

“It’s important to recognise that the idea that God created us in 6 days is only a theory. Evolution is another theory. What’s wrong with kids learning that there are different ideas about how the world began?”

But even this watered-down approach has been met with resistance. Father Ralph had this to say:

“This attempt to force Evolution into our curriculum is nothing more than a veiled attempt to introduce atheism into Sunday School classes.

Now I don’t care what these scientists teach in their science classes. That’s their business. But our Sunday School classes are for teaching the basis of our faith.

All this Evolution stuff may be rational and evidence-based, but the fact remains that it’s simply not religion.”

In Defence of Phelps

Your honours.

I’d like to draw your attention to the recent accusations and penalties meted out to one Mr. Michael Phelps, elite swimmer.

To wit: the recently-circulated picture apparently showing Mr. Phelps, if you’ll pardon the expression m’luds, sucking down a bong.

Item 1: A three-month ban from competitive swimming.

This will be nothing but counter-productive.

What Mr. Phelps needs is a greater training regimen. More hours in the pool. Less free time in which to toke on the chronic green.

Item 2: Cancellation of Mr. Phelps’ Kellogg sponsorship.

This is a foolish action on behalf of Kellogg.

The company is at risk of alienating an important part of its core market, namely: people with killer munchies and so wasted they’re unable to do anything more than pour milk into a bowl of cereal.

Estimates place this demographic at up to 16% of Kellogg’s fixed customer base.

We propose this alternative marketing strategy:

Item 3: The public reaction.

Now m’luds no-one is suggesting marijuana is a performance-enhancing drug.

In fact, despite its undeniable medicinal and anaesthetic properties weed has a certain reputation for being performance-reducing.

Being a cone monkey makes one shiftless and boring, prone to disjointed rambling and watching old episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation because they offer wondrous existential insight.

Yet Mr. Phelps’ clear natural ability has allowed him to overcome his devotion to Mary Jane to win 14 Olympic gold medals and to hold no less than 32 world records.

Surely these achievements in the face of a proclivity for busting down some blunt is worthy of nothing but our utmost respect.

Your honours, I rest my case.

Osstrayenopen

Ah, the Australian Open.

A time when people of all cultures gather in one place to be burnt by the sun and entertained by the rhythmic alternate striking of a small rubber ball by two incredibly well-paid young people who, in turn, are surrounded by a grim-faced coterie staring at lines painted on the ground, concerned to the point of obsession about which side of the line the rubber ball may fall.

For some reason understood by none except the eldritch brotherhood of “promoters” and “officials”, these ingredients alchemically combine into one hella Fun Day Out.

 

 

A Zen-like state of serenity descends upon the crowd, brought upon them by the rhythms of the game.

The attention of all is focused on the smallest of details . . . the direction of the serve, the curve of the ball, and the light glinting off the sweaty buttocks of the streaker.

For this moment in time the thousands are joined as one. And thus peace is achieved.

A New French Verb

To Google.

This is a regular verb, and hence takes the form googler.

The conjugation is as follows:

Je google
Tu googles
Il google
Nous googlons
Vous googlez
Ils googlent

Babelfish doesn't appear to recognise this. But I suppose that's not surprising.

After all, it's owned by Yahoo.

Haiku Testing

Beep. This is a test
Beep. This is only a test
Please do not panic

Happy New Year

Some predictions for the new year:

People will die . . . some of them famous.

People will be born . . . some of them to famous parents.

There will be major natural disasters. To some they will be irrefutable evidence of climate change. To others they will just be a repeat of past events.

There will be famine in developing nations. Accompanying this will be guilt-ridden sympathy, a lot of talk, and a small amount of useful work achieving an actual solution.

Religious leaders will make ill-informed comments about politics. Politicians will make ill-informed comments about religion.

Our leaders will bicker over bureaucratic minutiae, while larger issues go undiscussed.

Under the ground, new dinosaurs will be discovered.

Out in space, new planets will be discovered.

Here on Earth, new technology will be developed.

The planet will continue to turn and mankind will continue to dream.

Happy new year, everyone.

Haiku

Int'rested in life
Talking to my friends again
Download's been throttled

Fun With Anagrams

One of my favourite websites is the Internet Anagram Server.

Here you can put in any word or phrase, and it will work out for you some amusing, and sometimes revealing, anagrams.

They have an anagram hall of fame, including such classics as

"Eleven plus two" =
"Twelve plus one"

and

"President Clinton of the USA" =
"To copulate he finds interns".

But this is all about me, so putting in the title of the blog I get

"I Like Portello" =
"Lo, Killer Poet I"

which is nice, or

"Musings of a Beta Nerd" =
"Bad Refs In A Smug Tone",

which is probably a little more accurate.

But the best comes when we put it all together, and find that

"I Like Portello Musings of a Beta Nerd" =
"I Am Foreseeing A Troubled Poll Stink".

Spooky.

Meme tagged

Paul has tagged me to share eight things about myself. Well then.

1. I spent four years at University studying Science and Mathematics. While largely useless in my current career (except, oddly, some of the maths) it was hella fun.

2. My last appearance on stage was in full makeup as a clown. That was over 11 years ago. I used to do a lot of theatre back in the day, in fact . . .

3. I was recently married to a beautiful lady whom I met when we were both in a production of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. She's still my queen.

4. My cat Milligan, named after Spike, displays the same sorts of manic and depressive tendencies as his namesake. He is, however, yet to produce a groundbreaking radio comedy.

5. My lovely wife just made me a lovely Turkish pizza for dinner.

6. I'm doing a "Manager as Coach" training course tomorrow. Not sure what it involves, but I'm treating it like the weekend has started a day early. Is that wrong?

7. I think Battlestar Galactica is the best show on television.

8. I like portello.

Webbus Bloggus Premierus

The first one. Had to start somewhere. So here it is.

And if it's less than impressive I can simply tell no-one about it.
A plan perfect in its devious simplicity.

The first question people will no doubt ask (as I did of my friends who have begun this malarkey) is . . . why? Why subject the unsuspecting world to the rantings of a self-confessed nerd and all-around slightly boring person?

Surely there's enough of that sort of bollocks on the net already?

It's a question of morals, really. I tend to pick on my rarely-posting blogger friends for not posting often enough. Calling them slackarse sons-of-bitches and whatnot. It's just general humiliation and shaming behaviour on my part. Nothing too serious. And nothing with which I should have a problem . . . except a little ethical/philosophical dilemma, which is this:

Unless I myself am a regular poster on some sort of blog, then surely this amounts to hypocrisy?

I imagine it does.

The first step towards absolution, of course, is to try it myself and see if it's an easy task to update this more than once a week.

After a burst of energy resulting in two posts in the first twenty-four hours (prediction only at this stage, but I'm optimistic) will it peter out into a chore that must be attended to only when I am reminded (shamed/humiliated) by my (hyper/hypocritical) friends?

Or, will it become a joyous and pleasurable fulcrum for my artistic expression? A place to vent, converse, muse, philosophise and rant?

Or just to post amusing photos of my willy?

Time will tell.