At time of writing, we are now well over halfway through this fabled year of 2012. I think it’s safe to say, at least prior to the year’s beginning; there was an element of nervousness abound. That John Cusack movie had come out in 2009 and for the first time in history everybody was talking about the Maya people. In fact, a lot of anxious folk were basing all types of voodoo predictions on the idea that an ancient people’s calendar might be ending in 2012, and that this particular end just could signal the end of the world - because if there was one thing the mighty Mayan power rangers were good at, it was knowing what would happen thousands of years into the future, right down to the precise year.
As Greece continues to hamstring itself between horrible debt and mass unemployment, a new voice has arisen from downtown Athens to give itself some centre-stage limelight. Following turmoil, economic ruin, political ineffectiveness and blazing riots, the people of Greece have really done it now. If things weren't already bad enough, they have now decided to put some good old fashioned Greek Nazis into their humble parliament.
Of course, the 'Golden Dawn' party itself isn't particularly new. They've been kicking since the early 90s and earned a local government seat in Athens two years ago. So why are they so popular now?
My Experience with Paul Stanley – Or, How a Rockstar Should Behave
No politics this week!
You may have heard this one before, stop reading if you have.
The year was 2007 and my band was lucky enough to score four gigs with the one and only Paul Stanley of Kiss on his “Live to Win” solo tour.
Now having supported many (for want of a better word) ‘cock rock’ icons throughout the years, I kinda knew what to expect.
No speaking to the artist, shit treatment from their crew, lack of monitors, sound limiting the PA and generally being treated like nothing.
Now don’t get me wrong, as a support band on an international tour, you are nothing, and they are doing you a favour, so you SHOULD be grateful for the opportunity to play bigger rooms and play to a different crowd.
Good old Australian Day. The one day of the year when Australians get to spend the day just being Australians but not going to work. Traditionally Australian Day has been about having a great time in the sun and drinking beers or going to the movies and the food court. It celebrates the official birth of the greatest country in the world through the official matrimony of the greatest former colonies in the world by easily the greatest people in the world. It is a day that requires nothing more than cracking tins in the sun or eating Skittles at the movies.
But a wave of dissidence has been edging its way into this fine day for some years now. Some nosey people these days think it's necessary to question what Australia Day is really all about.
James Cartwright moseyed down the dim olive green hallway in a manner typical of long serving public servants. He was in no rush. Even if he had cause to rush, mosey he still would. OH&S had strict guidelines regulating general movement, and James had always been a stickler for the rules. The Department of Maritime Stewardship had limited clout in the greater political arena, but the roost was ruled adequately enough, and James Cartwright was a fine example of its typical employees. As he waltzed the hallways, its aesthetic reminiscent of hit 1960s television sitcom Get Smart!, James wondered exactly where he was going. The old building was as immense as it was easy to become lost within.
His journey today was at the behest of a departmental head, Mr. Malcolm Beecroft.
Facebook is a wonderful and terrifying thing.
A friend shared this charming news story from the Courier Mail, which I saw on my news feed.
A SUNSHINE Coast barmaid who assaulted a McDonalds drive-through attendant with a wet tampon in a "prank gone terribly wrong" has faced court.
Haji was 23 and had never kissed a girl.
He’d never had the chance. At school he was too shy to talk to girls and too weird for them to want to talk to him. He was half-Egyptian with his father’s hair, and looked a little like a stick with a steel wool pad stuck on top.
School finished, and nothing much changed. He lived at home with his mum, who kept hounding him about his inability to meet a nice girl, but carried on about being abandoned whenever he left the house.
Aside from his job fixing roads for the city council, Haji spent most of his time indulging his two hobbies - playing guitar and masturbation.
Like many social cripples, Haji loved thrash and death metal.
I went to a private boarding school, and as such, rugby union was a big deal.
The guys in the first XV were demigods. Along with the rowing team, they got special barbecues after training, special colours to sew onto their blazers and a get-out-of-jail free pass for any time they got in trouble. Whenever they played a home game, all the boarders were forced out of the dorm and down to the bottom oval to cheer them on. I thoroughly resented this in grade 9, used the opportunity to take a smoke break in year 10 and always made sure to be away for the weekend during footy season in years 11 and 12.
The after-footy finals party was the biggest event of the year, with the possible exception of the after-formal party.