Time is of the Essence

Howdy Zeitgeisters,

Time is a Construct. Try saying that to your Boss when you’re 35 minutes late for the weekly one-hour staff meeting. This sort of University-style postulation only goes over if you’re working in a Secret Government Research Facility trying to replicate “The Philadelphia Experiment”.

And if you think, “Crappy 1980s sci-fi film starring Michael Pare and Nancy Allen” when you hear the term The Philadelphia Experiment then you need to click here. And remember the Wikipedia is NEVER WRONG.

I have time only to blog these few following words:

The Artline Pen thing, didn’t convince. Raspberry Beret remain unimpressed with my Pro-Team joggers. “At least they’re better than those old K-Mart shoes you used to have,” she said.

Our good buddies at Kane & Kane are launching Stage 2 of The Project. If you’re bullish on aggregating content for your Me Brand, then maybe they have something to tell you.

And check out Lep Loney’s Poetry Blog, because he is doing useful work in the area of self-criticism. Each of his beautiful, fragmented scraps of lyrical imagery is immediately critiqued by The Poet himself in the comments section.

For those who suspect that I am Mr Loney, I can only point out that I’m just some guy on the Web who hides behind a bogus profile image and that Time is a Construct.

Elevate The Insignificant!

Mr Trivia

Damn Fine Coffee

Hello Zeitgeisters,

If you’re an urban poseur like me, then you spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about, searching for and drinking coffee. You might even be a café habitué with your own dark corner of a local coffee house.

Here in the glittering berg of Perth, Western Australia, we are blessed with some halfway decent caffeine and for that I believe we must thank the Post-World War 2 wave of European migration to Australia. See, sometimes the movement of entire populations owing to industrial-scale violence is good, because it improves the menu somewhere else in the world.

Starbucks haven’t moved in here yet. Although my conspiracy theorist chums like to insist that they have, by telling me that Starbucks already own ‘Dome’ or ‘Gloria Jeans’ , but I am too damn lazy to research the truth of this statement.

My point is this. Yesterday, I was at a seminar for work in the city. I was gabbing with some colleagues and in swift succession I did this: grabbed a ‘styrene cup, poured some hot water out of an urn into the cup, swilled in a tea-spoon of some brown powder, added a teaspoon of brown sugar and finally popped in a soupcon of full cream cow’s milk (I’m building the suspense here, people.)

And it was the best coffee I have had in a month. This hit of cheap institutional instant in a foam cup was So Excellent, that I persuaded myself out of having another.

I thought, no, that moment was as near to perfection as Aristotle and I can expect to go. This is my peak experience for the day; I will meditate on this and cherish it.

And of course go home and blog on it in excruciating detail.

Elevate the Insignificant!

Mr Trivia

 

Fashion Tip for the Miserly


Hey Fashion-Geisters

About two years ago I bought a pair of runners, joggers, sandshoes, plimsolls – what have you – from Spendless Shoes. The cognoscenti among you will recognise this as an excellent Australian business whose mission – cheap shoes for riffraff like myself – is not to be sneered at.

I’m old school, see. Money spent on my shoes is money wasted. My friends would attest to this. “He’s not stylish,” they’d say. “We love him because he’s quirky about old television shows and he knows that ALF comes from Melmac.” The footwear is simply not part of the package.

Anyhow, my partner (formerly Miss Pink, but she has expressed the desire to be known as.. ) Raspberry Beret hates my Pro-Team runners from Spendless (I believe they spell it “$pend-less”) because I once did some house-painting for my father in them. So they became besmirched and bespattered with spots of white paint.

Raspberry Beret has in the past regularly referred to them as my “homeless shoes”. And if truth be told, they always drew looks when I went walking in them (but I don’t care what the good people of South Perth think – they continually vote for John Howard, if you know what I mean.)

But yesterday I had a brainwave. I could improve my shoes and look stylish again (sorta) in the eyes of my woman.

I took an Artline 70, Black High Performance Marker and coloured in all the white paint spots. It sounds dumb. It sounds absolutely juvenile. But it worked a treat. The shoes look almost as good now as they did two years ago.

Tomorrow, I’m going to take ’em for a spin past my partner and see if she can suss out my sartorial and fiscal masterstroke.

I’m feeling positively metrosexual.

Ren Gets Out Of His Car And Dances


So Zeitgeisters,
FOOTLOOSE was on the old Free To Air. At first, I decided to ignore it. If you don’t remember FOOTLOOSE or never saw it, the film was made in 1984 and stars Kevin Bacon as teenager Ren McCormack who moves from Chicago to a small town called Bomont where Rock and Roll Music is against the law!

Why? I hear you ask. Because Rock is the Devil’s Music. And according to the screwy plot of FOOTLOOSE, five years before Ren’s arrival some kids from Bomont died in a drink-driving accident after they were out “enjoying” some of those devil rhythms. One of those kids was the son of Reverend Shaw Moore (John Lithgow) and the good Reverend dedicates himself to preaching against the deleterious effects of R-O-C-K.

And no Rock means no dancing and that means no Senior Prom.

It all sounds quite stupid. Which is why I almost didn’t watch the film again. However, some people did believe in bullshit like that back then, and continue to do so to this day. In fact, that banner year of 1984 was also when Tipper Gore, wife of former U.S. Vice President Al Gore, formed the infamous Parents Music Resource Centre (PMRC) to combat the language and ideas expressed in contemporary pop and rock.

It was the influence of busybody bodies like the PMRC that led to the U.S. record industry putting those annoying “Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics” labels on certain compact discs and audio cassettes.

So what makes FOOTLOOSE the greatest film of the American Cinema? Well, nothing. But we 80s kids tend to remember it with great fondness. And why not? When Ren arrives at Bomont High on his first day, he drives up in a yellow Volkswagen Beetle with Quiet Riot’s “Metal Health” blaring on the stereo. He’s stickin’ it to the MAN!

Actually, he doesn’t know that Rock is banned at this point. When he discovers the Truth in the school cafeteria, he utters the deathless 80s phrase, “jump back!” to register his stunned amazement.

Later in the film, big city Ren, bursting with frustration, drives his Beetle to a secluded old building and let’s off steam with an acrobatic solo dance. This footage makes up much of the music-video that accompanied Kenny Loggin’s hit single theme song. At the time, there were a number of nitpickers who pointed out that most of this sequence was doubled by a much more experienced dancer.

Bacon disarmed this silly criticism by pointing out that when he read the script, the skill required for this scene wasn’t clear. It only said, “Ren gets out of his car and dances.”

There are many other reasons to enjoy this lightweight film. Despite the dumbness of the premise, the writing of the Reverend’s role and it’s performance by actor John Lithgow are not one-dimensional. In fact, most of the performances are well above par for a teen movie of that era. The film is Sarah Jessica Parker’s movie debut and it also features a likeable turn from the late Chris Penn as Willard.

If you’ve never seen FOOTLOOSE, don’t expect it to be anything more than it is – a well-crafted, 1980s teen film with engaging performances and catchy pop soundtrack.

But in this strife-torn era, on this ball of confusion, isn’t this what we need?

Meh? Maybe not.

Anyhow, I’ll leave you with these thoughts while I enjoy a brisk walk in the park. For here in the southern hemisphere, we are experiencing chill winter. And when I return, I’ll prepare a warm, nutritious bowl of Bird’s Custard.

Bird’s Custard, the delicious flavour never disappoints.

Celebrating Mike Goldman

Hail Zeitgeisters,

I am about to speak to youse about “Big Brother 2006”. Otherwise referred to as BB06. And yes, I refer to the Channel 10 reality show. If you are one of those who reacts reflexively and negatively to the mere mention of this program, then turn away NOW!

As a Night Owl (read ‘insomniac’) I appreciate “Big Brother Up-Late” more than I’m willing to admit (until now).

The Up-Late Show is two hours of live-streaming video of whatever the housemates are up to between 11:00 pm and 1:00 am Eastern Standard Time. Obviously, there’s some intervention from the BB Control Room – certain topics are cut away from quickly – particularly anything that might slander someone from outside the House.

As a writer-type-guy I am fascinated by the sorts of things an ever-diminishing group of twenty-somethings might say to each other around the witching hour. And believe me, it’s mostly chat.

There are often quite good juxtapositions when the Control Room switches from one part of the House to another. Say, from the egghead group discussing Noam Chomsky in the bedroom to the boys in the spa having a belching competition.

Sometimes the talk is so weird and uninformed that it leaves you gob-smacked. I’ve just witnessed a conversation about purchasing groceries for the coming week in the House. The participants were John (surf-wax hair), Dino (minus the mattress) and Gaelan. They got in that “agreeing” space that you can find yourself in when you’re bonding.

The trio were agreeing that they needed to purchase carbs, especially rice and pasta. And that potatoes are really good because you can serve them any way. Gaelan said cooked or raw. John agreed you can have them raw. No-one else disagreed. Consensus was achieved.

I’m sure someone somewhere is eating raw potatoes. Some hardcore freakin’ vegan who secretly hates food, perhaps. But it seemed unusual.

So, why is Big Brother voice-man and “Up-Late” host Mike Goldman getting props from this blog? Because the “Up-Late Game Show” which ran from the end of BB05 until last week; the one hosted by former BB Housemate Simon “Hotdogs” Deering, was dire. He was okay, but it all felt a bit laboured and unnatural.

Television’s current fad for using amateurs shouldn’t extend to hosts and presenters. Ex-BB Housemate Bree Amer from 10’s “Friday Night Games” is a case in point.

With all due respect to Hotdogs, Mike Goldman can juggle the callers and the games in his sleep. Often this seems to be what he’s doing. As the months wear on, he appears to sink deeper and deeper into sleep debt. He’s a naturally funny fella and it’s entertaining seeing him navigate his way through the wee small hours without snapping or saying something quite pointed.

Goldman has the mojo and we salute him.

His website is www.http://mikegoldman.tv/

Elevate the Insignificant!

Mr Trivia

Mikhail’s Gravy

Zdravstvuite, Zeitgeisters!

Years ago, I watched a documentary on the band REM. Their method for coming up with album names involved pinning up a list in the studio while they worked on that album and band members would add names to the list as the mood took them. If memory serves, Michael Stipe said two titles came up album after album and were never used. One was “Love and Squalor” which is taken from a JD Salinger story, and the other was “Cat Butt”.

For the last few months, my band has been toying with changing its name from “To Be Continued” to something with a little more zing and pizzazz. A fortnight ago we became“Dancing with Gorbachev”.

Unfortunately, It turns out that many people don’t know who Mikhail Gorbachev is or was. Time to rectify this situation. The campaign to inform the populace about this man, begins here.

In 1985 Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev was elected the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. He was instrumental in the creation of policies and doctrines that lead to the end of 45 years of Cold War, the democratisation of Eastern Europe and the near collapse of the Russian economy. You remember… Perestroika… Glasnost…. Gorby. Anyhow, go to Wikipedia, the font of all knowledge and have a read.

You might also like to travel to Gorbachev’s own site, mikhailgorbachev.org. His 70th birthday was on March 2, 2001, and a stunning lineup of 1980s politicos sent in written tributes. Read the words of former President of the USA, George Bush Senior who found it necessary to include the term “market economy” in his celebration of Gorby.

Even better is former president of Germany, Richard von Weizsäcker, who writes a long rambling screed in which he mentions, among other things, the excellence of his own wife as a hostess, and also this:

“Now under Gorbachev each socialist state had to decide its future development independently. The Press Secretary of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Gennady Gerasimov dubbed this the ‘Sumatra’s Doctrine’ based on Frank Sumatra’s song called ‘My Way’.”

As Mike Moore used to say on “Frontline”: “Hmmmm”.

I would like to close with two thoughts.

Firstly, on behalf of “Dancing with Gorbachev” I urge you, if you are a young person, to do some reading about Gorby. Discuss him with your parents, etc. If you are an older person, spend just a few minutes today talking to a young person about who Gorbachev was and what he meant in 1989. Do it for my band.

Secondly, if it’s good enough for Richard von Weizsäcker it’s good enough for this blog. From now on, Sinatra, Old Blue Eyes, Cranky Franky, Francis Albert the Leader of the Rat Pack, will, within the walls of this blog, be exclusively referred to as “Frank Sumatra”.

Elevate the Insignificant!

Mr Trivia

Other People’s Ringtones

Guten Abend Zeitgeisters,

I work in an open plan office (it’s a loft or mezzanine style of thing) and it is a common occurrence to hear other people’s mobile phones going off. Graeme downstairs has a “My Sharona” ringtone and Liz, with whom I share my office, has a Madonna ringtone.

Like any other oft-heard sound, these cut into my brain like brick-saw into concrete. To be fair, my own ringtone is just as bad. If you have a Nokia 3120, then you can sample the twittering cacophony that is “Urgency”. Imagine the sound of a finch caught on a length of razor wire, then amplify it.

What I love is the reaction when anyone hears it for the first time. “Is that your ringtone?” they ask, as though I might have programmed it by accident. I have very purposely chosen a high, “top-endy” sound so it cuts through the background noise.

I propose a new piece of cell phone etiquette. Much in the same way that one doesn’t comment on how other people raise their children – especially not to the parents of those children – I think the same advice goes for ringtones. Everyone else’s ringtone will get on one’s wick. So say nothing.

So in a blanket answer to those of you who ask THAT question; Yes – that is my ringtone – and I love it.

Elevate the Insignificant,

Mr Trivia

p.s. German visitors click the Nokia link above!

To Be Continued News

Hi Zeitgeisters,

For those of you who want to know what’s happening with my band “To Be Continued” here’s a couple of nuggets of new info.

Firstly, we are thinking of changing our name again. At the moment, “Dancing with Gorbachev “ is the front runner.

Secondly, here’s a photograph of us in front of St Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow in 1982. Our eyes have been obscured because it looks way cool.

Elevate the Insignificant

Mr Trivia

Celebrating Geoff Jansz


Howdy Zeitgeisiters,

It has taken me some time to slip out of the “cranky pants” as one of my co-workers calls them. I wore them proudly after my last blog entry.

And the crankiness continued this evening. I don’t usually watch Better Freakin’ Homes and Gardens on the Seven Network, but if I do, it’s because Maeve O’Meara, the culinary goddess (and co-presenter of SBS’s The Food Lover’s Guide to Australia) is doing her thing.

Maeve isn’t part of the team anymore. She’s been replaced with “Chef, restaurateur, writer and now TV presenter, Karen Martini” Pah! And Meh!

However, in order to stave off my further decent into Grumpy Old Man status, I come not to bury Karen, but to praise TV Chef and Safcol pitch man, Geoff Jansz.

Geoff first burst upon our telly screens ten years ago as part of the bad craziness that was Burke’s Backyard. For those of you too disinterested to remember, Burke’s Backyard, was the premier lifestyle program on the Nine Network for many years. Then one day, eighteen months ago, the then boss of Nine, Kerry Packer, took Don Burke into the middle of a lake in a small rowboat… no, that was Michael Corleone and Fredo in Godfather 2. Sorry.

Geoff is currently one half of the team on Nine’s reasonably anonymous cooking show Fresh. It’s called Fresh because no one though of calling it Fly, Dope or Phat. Just my theory. The other half of the team is Australian Women’s Weekly Food Editor, Lyndey Milan.

Geoff keeps it real, people. Last week I saw an episode in which he crushed several cloves of garlic under his knife. He said, “Doing this will release the flavour as well as some tension.” Funny!

Geoff throws out these deadpan one-liners out all the time. Occasionally he gets a little too puckish and practically ‘winks ‘ at the camera to signal his gag, but mostly, he’s doing sterling work in the much-neglected area of cooking show humour.

Geoff Jansz, you rock.

I could have linked any number of the items above, but as that list takes in the two largest television networks and the largest magazine publishing company in Australia, I think I’ll let you Google whatever takes your fancy. Geoff’s own website is here.

Elevate the Insignificant!

Mr Trivia

Blame the Screwdriver

WARNING: The following blog is the sort of thing you write when you are very annoyed and very self-righteous. Those of you who prefer Mr Trivia’s more upbeat persona should look away now.

 

Hi Zeigeisters,

Long time readers of this fledgling blog, may recall that I said I would get back to you with a report on how the script went – the one I wrote for a local awards show. See that original blog here: Procrastination.

Well, we just did the awards show. It was a live event recorded to be screened soon on local television.

We had a television personality from one of the commercial networks doing the hosting. A man who has done comedy before, has acted before and now does lifestyle programs. We thought he was a sure thing. We believed that the laughs were a lock.

We got cocky.

TV Man decided to be a little experimental and attempted to take scripted gags and turn them on their heads. Thus, he attempted punch-lines before feed-lines. In many cases he said the feed-lines badly, and then didn’t do the punch-lines at all. And then he wondered why the laugh never came. And then he got under-confident!

Seriously, almost all of the gags he had where he did the feed and the punch-line sharply, got some kind of laugh.

I sat at the back and watched him getting nervous. I saw him attempt to go sideways into some of the material, hoping that he could get a laugh through ad.libs. And he got some. But not enough.

I was particularly gratified when I heard, “I’m just an actor reading a script” which was his way of saying – “I’m not responsible for writing this stuff. Don’t blame me if it isn’t funny.”

I look at it another way. When you’re an actor, you’re responsible for learning your lines, Cue-Card Man. I hear tell that when some people go from acting to presenting that they get lazy about things like rehearsal.

I was brought up with an apology reflex. I am usually one of those people who when you walk into me, I will apologise.

However, the reflex just isn’t kicking in this time.

My reaction to, “I’m just an actor reading a script” is this.

Next time, read the f***king script properly.

And next time, don’t blame your tools.

Excoriating the Unrehearsed

Mr Trivia