the story of stuff

enough spam e-mail for me!

happy Australia Day

I passed this guy sitting on George Street [Sydney] this week.

urban angel

angel: n 1. a messenger and servant of God, usually represented as a person with large wings and dressed in white clothes 2. a spirit that watches and guards one -see also "guardian angel" 3. a person especially a woman, who is very kind, good, beautiful etc.

urban flower

gilad

new york city ... no horizons, only up

it's all about US

When we hate someone,
it is because we hate some part of ourselves in their image.

[Herman Hesse]

knowledge = a glass house

The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.

[Isaac Asimov]

the Status Quo

The order of the world is always right -- such is the judgment of God. For God has departed, but he has left his judgment behind, the way the Cheshire Cat left his grin.

[Jean Baudrillard]

the loneliest time of the year

A woman spent all Christmas Day in a telephone box without ringing anyone. If someone comes to the phone, she leaves the box, then resumes her place afterwards. No one calls her either, but from a window in the street, someone watched her all day, no doubt since they had nothing better
to do. The Christmas syndrome.

[Jean Baudrillard, Cool Memories]

the miniature earth

charles atlas in 2007

Bush Calendar; place your order NOW

modern life

addicted to modern life

look, i have the seal of approval

cheap labour = the new commodity

could you bear the pain

throwing stones in the glass house

the rules of fight club

television

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.

In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)

They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.

Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?

IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!

IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND

HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!

HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!

'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'

We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'

Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed

To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!

Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.

(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!

So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.

And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!

And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

[Roald Dahl]

hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia

hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia = fear of long words.
Now who the heck came up with that one!

manufactured consent

Noam Chomsky

much ado about nothing

for thousands of years human history has been a magnificently futile conflict, a wonderfully staged panorama of triumphs and tragedies based on the resolute taboo against admitting that black goes with white.

the things we do to make a living

You lie for a living.

You're not a bad person, not really, but telling the truth at your current
company tends to get people fired.

And you can't afford to be fired. You're thirty seven, you've got three
kids, you've got a big house to pay for, your wife would leave you within
nanoseconds if the cashflow ever dried up, and it's been well over over a decade since a cute, random girl in the street looked at you with anything even faintly resembling a sparkle in her eye.

Society only needs you because they need the product your company makes. Lose the job and you are no longer needed. Without your job you're just a mere stain.

So lying equals survival.

You have to lie because you have no other ideas about how not to be killed. How not to lose everything.

Lying replaced ideas long ago. Lying replaced great sex long ago. Lying relaced your marriage long ago. Lying replaced joy long ago.

Your lies became the painless cancer.

Yes, I've read your resume. Very impressive.

Look, I already said I'd get back to you next week.

gapingvoid

what's changed?

what would you do if you found a dropped wallet

[click on pic to find out]

political culture

gaping void

me culture

gaping void

company culture

gaping void

the difference between reputation and character

Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is who you really are, while your reputation is merely who others think you are.

He who dies with the most toys is still dead.

Mad world #3. Sydney under siege.

mad world #2. APEC

The first week of September is APEC week in Sydney. Bush will be in town; and so will everyone else. And the city has been preparing itself this week for the visiting 21 heads of state ...

... with water cannons; riot police buses; 3 meter high walls erected around the Opera House and vacinity; massive road closures; random police security checks on any person walking in certain areas of the city; military jet planes swooping overhead; soldiers wandering through shopping malls brandishing pretty serous military equipment; ads on TV asking everyone to be "alert"; and the city has been declared a virtual out-of-bounds this coming Friday-Sunday [by declaring Friday a NSW State Holiday].

I know most of this because I work in the city. Right in the middle of the city, on Barrack Street. And when, as per usual, i parked my ute [pick-up] on Barrack Street on Thursday afternoon, I did what I always do; i dropped my car keys in the back of my ute, under the cover [thus hidden from view]. When i returned to my ute 90 minutes later, the keys had been swapped with a note written on 'official' police paper; "report immediately to The Rocks Police Station."

The constable behind the counter knew who i was when i walked in, because i fitted the description. "Middle aged. Shaven head. Olive skin. Blue backpack on your back." And then he said to me, "You fit the description". No shit Sherlock.

Apparently some alert person had spotted me suspiciously park my ute, leave my keys in a suspicious place, walk off suspiciously in a suspicious direction, with a suspicious blue backpack on my back. I also had suspiciously dark skin colour and, as if all this weren't enough, I had two anti-American stickers on my rear window. He called the police, they strip searched my car, and took off with my keys.

I had to make account of myself to the constable on a number of key points 1. what is your name? 2. do you have proof of your ID? 3. is this your correct address? 4. why were you in the city at that time ? 5. what type of work do you do? 6. why did you leave your car keys in such a strange place 7. why do you carry a backpack? 8. why do you have a knife on your key ring? [a tiny, silver 3cm Swiss Army knife]. My answers were recorded in his little black book.

By the end of my interrogation I had been reduced to green alert - of the lowest possible threat to security - and the constable handed me back my car keys. But he had one final word for me before i could walk away a free man. "You DO know it's illegal to carry a knife, sir?" he said. And I, like a scolded little schoolboy, said "Yes", and took the Swiss Army off my key ring.

mad world

-- Tears for Fears

nibbled to death by ducks

In our world there is an agreed-upon reality of values. More is better. Bigger is better. Faster is better. And modern technology will achieve all three of these desirable goals.

Slowly but surely, we are being removed further and further from nature, from the soil, the weather, the sun, the wind, and all natural processes.

In other words, we are being ‘nibbled to death by ducks’.

[click to enlarge]

i was born itleiigennt

education spoiled me

he's a material boy living in a material world

comedy of the absurd #3.

Copy from one, and it's called plagiarism. Copy from many, and it's called research.

comedy of the absurd #2.

comedy of the absurd #1.

the dice man

the axis of mediocrity

The great affliction of our age is not the axis of evil –
it is the axis of mediocrity.
We’re far more likely to die from a lack of passion
than from some great evil.

What do I believe in?
What do we stand for?
Take on these questions
and you will start to transform the age,
as well as your life.

walking the line

In our quest for proof, evidence, and ‘the facts’, we have lost our trust in our own experience as the basis for living our lives.

powder for modern, busy people

[click to enlarge]

i've seen a praying mantis loose faith

how america really took over the world

Economic hit men [EHMs] are highly paid professionals who cheat countries around the globe out of trillions of dollars. They funnel money from the World Bank, the U.S. Agency for International Development [USAID], and other foreign "aid" organisations into the coffers of huge corporations and the pockets of a few wealthy families who control the planet's natural resources. Their tools include fraudulent financial reports, rigged elections, payoffs, extortion, sex, and murder. They play a game as old as empire, but one that has taken on new and terrifying dimensions during this time of globalisation. I should know: I was an EHM.

My job was to encourage world leaders to become part of a vast network that promotes U.S. commercial interests. In the end, those leaders become ensnared in a web of debt that ensures their loyalty. We can draw on them whenever we desire - to satisfy our political, economic or military needs. In turn, they bolster their political positions by bringing industrial parks, power plants, and airports to their people. A condition of such loans is that engineering and construction companies from our own country must build all these projects. The owners of U.S. engineering/ construction companies become fabulously wealthy.

The recipient country is required to pay it all back, principal plus interest. If an EHM is completely successful, the loans are so large that the debtor is forced to default on its payments after a few years. When this happens, we demand our pound of flesh. This typically includes one or more of the following: control over United Nations votes, the installation of military bases, or access to resources such as oil or the Panama Canal. Of course, the debtor country still owes us the money. In this way another country is added to our global empire.

[John Perkins]

status anxiety

gotta get me a pair of three hundred dollar shoes
made for twenty seven cents in a child labour sweatshop
so i can impress people i don't even know

Shane L Koyczan

it's all about OIL

a brief essay on american healthcare

[click to read]