Pathetic, Telegraph. Bloody pathetic

There will be people who would ask 'who's Robert Crumb?' But a great many of those would recognise some of his artwork.

Crumb is a cartoonist. Some of his images are absolutely iconic, like these two:

Now I find some of his stuff quite vulgar and tasteless. And others are clever, funny and even thought-provoking. But, please, let's put this in its rightful place. Crumb and his work came out of and to prominence in that quite wild and strange place and time - the late 1960s US. Guess what - a lot of things have changed since then. Things found funny then would not necessarily be seen as funny today.

Here's another thought. Does every artist think everything they have ever done is forever beyond reproach? Of course not. I had the good fortune to spend some time with Tim Ferguson about 18 months ago. I took the opportunity to ask a few things about those heady days with the Doug Anthony All Stars. Tim freely admitted that sometimes they would go off-stage and ask themselves 'Oh God - did we actually just do/say that?' In talking about some of the old DAAS stuff, Tim actually became a little embarrassed.

So what does that have to do with Robert Crumb? I watched a quite interesting documentary about him a few years back. In that, Crumb admitted somewhat shamefaced that some of his work was pretty terrible in what it depicted.

In a simply staggering display of gutter journalism and hopeless fact-twisting, the Daily Telegraph produced this piece of absolute shit. Crumb is depicted as some sort of crazed sexual deviant, not fit to be let loose on the streets. They then attempt to give this garbage some validity by having anti-child abuse campaigner, Hetty Johnson, giving her take on this 'depraved' person ie let's give the world the impression that he's a child abuser as well.

Here's a little test for y'all. Go and look up Robert Crumb artwork in Google. Or better yet with Bing as I believe that is a better search engine for finding images. I'll just sit here, sip my coffee and daydream a bit while you do it. Go on - I'll still be here when you get back.

Jessica Simpson...big grapefruit...flowers....Marieke Hardy...veggies...have I done the shopping yet...did I remember to throw that old milk out this morning?

Oh you're back. Goodo. Did you find some tasteless and vulgar stuff. Yep. OK, now how many child molestation images did you find? I couldn't find a single bloody one. T & V does NOT equate to perverted etc etc.

Now for the next question. According to the Telegraph, "A spokesman for the federal Attorney General's department told The Sunday Telegraph that Crumb's work cannot be shown in Australia unless he submits his illustrations for classification. The spokesman said his work would almost certainly be refused classification."

What? We now supposed to believe that ALL of Crumb's work will now "almost certainly be refused classification?" Oh give me a frigging break. How many decades has 'Stoned Agin' been sold on posters, t-shirts and Lord knows what else in Australia. C'mon Tele - give us a name and prove that complete utter bullshit quote.

How the Daily Telegraph can justify calling itself either 'news' or 'journalism' is getting well and truly beyond me. Why don't they just pack up and piss off to the UK - the Poms seem to appreciate gutter journalists and journalism there. That way you pack of fucktards won't have to ever worry about letting the facts get in the way of your story ever again. As for Hetty Johnson - hey lady - how about worry about the REAL issues rather than pandering to cheap, nasty sensationalist so-called journalism.

Pathetic, Telegraph. Bloody pathetic.

When is information actually information

OK, I'll admit it. I have a secret guilty little pleasure that I sometimes get to indulge. I enjoy Judge Judy. OK, there - I've admitted it. Now I rarely get an opportunity to watch the old girl given that it was on at 3pm on the relevant network here.

Note the use of past tense - WAS on at 3pm. Some weeks ago, I noticed on one of my rare opportunities to actually be home and indulge, that Her Honour had been cut in half for a so-called 'encore's screening of the latest 'reality' program on that network. Followed by an 'infomercial. But today I realised that Her Honour has been given the boot entirely, replaced by a 30 minute-or-so 'informercial'. Of a fat guy selling cookware.

Rather annoyed, I did something I have never done before. I telephoned the television network in question to complain about their programming choices. The invidual concerned with programming for that particular channel was not available however I spoke to someone else. While that person could not discuss my specific programming concern, I took the opportunity to have a good old whinge about the proliferation of these bloody 'informercials'.

'Whyy not be honest and just call them what they are - half-hour advertisments," I said.

"Oh I don't think that would be accepted very well," was the reply.

Now come on, commercial television networks. Do you really think we are all so simple and feeble-minded that we haven't realised that these 'informercials' are nothing more than extended commercial advertisments? Is it really necessary to talk down to us like that, treating us like small children?

For that matter, an encore is something that occurs in response to an enthusiastic audience response, calling for me. Now just how many people have been standing up, crying 'Author! Author! We want it repeated at 3pm in the afternoon!"

I think at the end of the day, it has been a case of dump the program they have to pay for in favour of (a) a solid half-hour block of pretend advertisment of a fat guy selling knives and cooking appliances, and (b) a repeat of something local we have already paid for.

While I'm on the subject of 'infomercials', do the producers of a certain anti-acne preparation think we're all equally as dumb as the commercial televsion stations all think we are? We're supposed to accept a barely pubescent boy who has most likely only just started getting his big boy hairs, and one look at his baby-soft skin makes it quite apparent he has never had anything remotely like an acne problem, is suddenly supposed to be a believable spokesperson for getting rid of pimples? Oh please! But of course, he is a celebrity and therefore we are assumed to automatically think 'oh - he is a best-selling recording artist to the bubblegum tenny boppers - obviously he MUST be an expert - I better start getting the stuff in by the pallet!'

How thoroughly demeaning and insulting to our collective intelligence. And I still think Her Honour, Judge Judy was a vast improvement!

Here endeth the rant

Interested in what I had to rant about? Feel free to lodge a comment or tell someone else.

In this lesson, you shall learn...

A tweet from Sir Tessa (not sure I should post her actual id or even her name so I shall play it relatively safe) has prompted this post.

"Protip: always confirm the presence of toilet paper committing to a cubicle"

Words of wisdom indeed.

This made me think not just of my own proclivity in trying to ensure at least some source of paper is to hand (surprising how well an old supermarket docket can do the deed), but also of one of the slightly more bizarre methods I have learned of in the past.

Back in the day, I was in the SAS (Saturdays and Sundays). That's right - I was a proud serving member of that august body dedicated to defending our right to get shitfaced in the mess, the Australian Army Reserve.

Now like all good little footsloggers, I put on my 'L' plates and toddled off to recruit camp (what the Seppos call Boot Camp). There I learned the use of the special toilet paper that came as part of the ration packs issued to you when going bush. This special toilet paper was shiny, tough and made far better writing paper than it did a bum-wiper. The number twos did not so much get wiped off as pushed around from one spot to another if used in the conventional manner.

You see, there was a special trick to using this toilet paper.

It came already folded in half. The trick was to then tear a small square from the middle of said folded sheet of toilet paper.

Now place that small square safely to one side - don't lose it as it plays a particularly important function.

Unfold the square of arse-wiper and stick your index finger through the hole so it is sticking up out of said square.

Proceed to wipe your bum-crack with your index finger. Once said crack is sufficiently wiped to your satisfaction, pull the paper back up your finger, wiping it clean.

All done.

Oh, and the little torn-out square I told you to save? Use that to wipe under your fingernail.

Ahhhh the joys of serving your nation!

Return of the cultural cringe?

Remember those 'good' old days when we Australians had this terrible cultural cringe about our own inadequacies? At least those in charge of the arts thought so. The best example was that of the theatre - a major production could not go ahead unless a 'name' was imported from the US or Britain to play the lead.

It seems those bad old days are not so far behind us as we all thought.

Not long ago, the Red Roughy aka Prime Minister Julia Gillard, embarrassingly grovelled to the US Congress, tearfully exclaiming that the US can do anything, like some sort of overly-excited six-year old having just met her favourite member of The Wiggles.

Then we had Oprah bring her show to Australia. Oh, the things this was going to do for the Australian economy. Nay-sayers were howled down. This was Oprah, people - Oprah!

Except now the figures are starting to come in.

The Australian taxpayer coughed up some $5 million to bring Oprah and her show out. Heavens knows how much Oprah, her organisation and the television network made out of it all. But it wasn't just Oprah, it was the grand lady herself along with 92 companions. Read the list of freebies handout out to them during a short, three-day visit to Melbourne alone.

But this was Oprah, people - Oprah! The tourism dollars were going to start flooding in. Why, the tourism places were going to have to start buying new wheelbarrows to be able to cart all their takings off to the bank! This was going to be the biggest tourism bonanza since Paul Hogan conned the Seppos that we all waste good shrimp by throwing them on a barbie instead of the snags and chops! Oprah - Oprah!! squeeeeeeeeeeeee

Except - US tourism has actually dropped since then.

In other words, the Australian taxpayer was sold a super-size lemon. Perhaps not quite as big a lemon as the millions thrown away on a ridiculous bid for the FIFA World Cup. But that's another rant for another time.

Now this is not a dig at Oprah. Why wouldn't she make the trip? After all, it wasn't costing her damn thing. I doubt we shall ever know exactly what the Oprah machine made out of it all. But it was Australian authorities who thought it was such a brilliant idea that they just threw money at her.

Just like the bad old days, now we are apparently unable to sell the touristic delights of our own country without someone being imported to do it for us. And now, just as then, it is a load of crap.

I am left wondering, just who on the Australian side of things made money on the deal? Obviously not the tourism industry!

The medical crap continues

Well, the medical crap still keeps going.

After the assurances that my aneurism was suitable for being treated by a far less-invasive procedure and then going through the surgeon doing nothing with the file for a full month rather than referring it to the hospital that could do that particular procedure. It turns out that the aneurism is not suited to said procedure, so all that delay was completely pointless.

When a senior hospital administrator called me to resolve the mess, almost a month ago, I made it very clear that in the event of the procedure not being suited, I wanted another surgeon. But, as usual, my wishes were ignored. I have been pretty much told I have to go see this surgeon. So I have to go for a further review in a week's time. It is only four days short of two months since I first saw this clown and frankly we absolutely no further ahead with treatment of what he assures me is a serious matter requiring attention.

I am being treated for a couple of other things as well. The doctor looking after one has been wanting to increase my medication for about two months now. But the medication could potentially increase my blood pressure which would be a rather irresponsible thing to do with an untreated aneurism in my brain. So now I have been unable to be properly treated for this other condition because of the hospital's irresponsibility.

So here's a question - who is responsible if the aneurism crashes while the wait for treatment continues? Or if the other condition becomes even worse because of the forced delay in treating it properly?

Is it just me or what?

Back in May I was admitted to a local hospital with breathing difficulties from a severe respiratory infection. A scan was taken of my head which revealed a hitherto unknown and unsuspected aneurism. An 'immediate' referral to a neurosurgeon resulted. I saw said neurosurgeon on May 23rd. He impressed on me the serious of the aneurism and its location, informing me that I did need treatment. The good news however was that he believed it could be successfully treated by a far less invasive procedure called 'coiling' as opposed to actual brain surgery. But as Canberra does not yet have a facility to undertake such procedures, the case needed to be referred to the Royal Prince Alfred hospital in Sydney.

Today, having heard nothing further for a month, I telephoned The Canberra Hospital to see if they had heard anything further from RPA. After being bounced around all over the place and being given ridiculous information such as a denial that I had even been there to see said neurosurgeon, I was finally put onto someone who did know something about the matter.

The location of the aneurism is such that I am advised should it leak or worse, I would most likely lose cognitive functions. And any brain aneurism can cause death. This is serious stuff. So perhaps you can imagine my considerable upset today to learn that the file information was still sitting in The Canberra Hospital gathering dust a month later.

I am told that I am to reduce stress in deference to the condition. Being made to wait in the dark for a month only to discover that everything has been dumped in a pile somewhere and just left there, is hardly conducive to stress reduction!

I am under psychiatric care but the psychiatrist is loathe to do anything with my medication at present as this may interfere with treatment of the aneurism. So through no fault of mine, I cannot even get proper psychiatric treatment now because of this ludicrous and entirely unnecessary delay by The Canberra Hospital and its staff.

So I decide to lodge a formal complaint and see if that can get something happening. The only problem is actually trying to find the appropriate area to lodge a complaint with. I found their website feedback but last time I used that in relation to an important matter, it look a long bloody time for anyone to bother doing anything in response to that online submission. So I hit the telephones. In the end I had to be put through to nothing less than the office of the Chief Executive of ACT Health. That or go to the Human Rights Commission.

Do I really have to go through the Human Rights Commission? Is going through another agency entirely actually going to speed things up? Not bloody likely. In my experience, involving another agency merely slows matters down further. So in the apparent lack of ACT Health actually having an area to which you may direct complaints, you have to talk to the staff in the Office of the CEO.

This is bloody ridiculous. Why is it that whenever I am forced to rely on something through the public health system, I am subjected to outrageous treatment. Take for example the arsehole alleged case manager, David Kendall (and I am quite happy to name him as the documentary evidence exists to defend my claim), who flatly refused to even allow my name to be added to the waiting list to see a psychiatrist for eight months. Not eight months on the waiting list - that's eight months trying just to get added to the waiting list. When I eventually complain, Kendall thinks it quite alright to telephone me at home at 8:06 am to start abusing me. He routinely canceled appointments, continual blaming this later on a single absence of 2-3 weeks some time previously. Multiple complaints against him achieved nothing other than assurances matters would be 'dealt with'. Once Kendall deigned to allow my name to be added to the sacred waiting list, I eventually did get to see a psychiatrist. Kendall then invited himself into the consultation and proceeded to utter the most outrageous lies including that there had only been a delay of a few weeks. He even feed my GP that line of bullshit. I was later informed by an insider that they received more complaints against Kendall than any other of their staff. So why was he allowed to get away with that shit? Why were continuing complaints ignored?

Fortunately I no longer have to deal with that shaven-headed arsewipe and access to psychiatric care is now much easier than it was under Kendall's regime. But I have that really terrible feeling that this is now all starting all over again.

Failure to access proper medical care in the past cost me pretty much everything. About all that is left for me to lose now is my life. Not that this is any great deal. And the neurosurgeon allegedly in charge of my 'care' seems quite happy to let that happen. Just leave the file on the counter beneath a pile of crap and dirty coffee mugs - she'll be right. Oh, he's dead? Oh well, never mind.

So, friends, if in the near future my friendly little aneurism does indeed decide to burst, leaving me with the cognitive abilities of a mouldy carrot, or if I'm lucky, dead - you all know who to blame.

Scammer warning

Be warned - the scammers pretending to be from Microsoft are hard at work in Australia.

I received a telephone call late yesterday from someone claiming to be from Microsoft, claiming that my computer was sending error messages to Microsoft and this call was to resolve these.

I hung up.

I telephoned the telephone company, Telstra, hoping to be able to trace the call and pass that information to the police. Unfortunately they were unable to advise me of the origins of the call.

During subsequent discussions with both Telstra's Unwelcome Calls Centre and the ACCC's Scamwatch, I learned that these thieving scum are very active. The reason why they are so active is because they are finding people who fall for their b.s. and give them the details needed to perpetrate their scam.

There are a couple of points of concern with this matter.

One - why are people still falling for this? There has been report after report about this in the media. Microsoft do NOT telephone people as some sort of courtesy.

Two - all the relevant authorities are well aware of the activities of these scammers, so why is it they are unable to close them down?