On Social Workers

Filth.

I hate them all. I don't care with whom they work or what their mandate happens to be, as far as I am concerned, they're all worthless.

Only, it's not initially their fault. They are constrained by bureaucratic mechanisms installed to protect them and their clients from legal repercussions. For example, no social worker will visit a child at the child's home without at least one other social worker being present. Ostensibly, that is to protect the child but in reality, it's to protect the worker from being falsely accused by the child.

Therein lies the problem. If they think the kids are not aware of that, they are insane. As soon as two adults arrive and start talking in official language, or even with an official sounding slant, that kid knows they're not on even footing and that tells me there will be no meeting of the minds in this exchange. That kid will be as defensive as he or she knows how to be.

Put the kid in the environment of the social worker's office and you take the kid out of his or her natural environment and what you get is a product of the office environment that has no basis in the day to day reality of the kid. In other words, it's a complete waste of time.

When I was involved with kids, I got down to their level. I invariably got covered in dirt, frequently got holes in my clothes, sometimes got spat on, often got a few bruises or scratches, had no dignity to speak of whatsoever. But I got results and I got them pretty quickly.

The naysayers all questioned my motives. Then, as now, my mantra was "Don't talk to me about it, talk to the kids themselves. If they don't like something, they'll tell you quick enough."

How the hell else would I know about this stupid social worker situation. I've heard the same stories from dozens of kids. I've read the stories in the newspapers, I've dealt with the bureacracy, with the workers and the courts.

I've also dealt with that variety who deal with adults. They're even worse. Since 1991, I've met only one 'social worker' whom I would deem worthy of respect and she was a counsellor, not a social worker per se.

Social workers who deal with adults also travel in pairs for the same safety reasons as do those who deal with kids. The adult victims of these insensible twats are also placed in an instantly adversarial environment, and unless knowledge is available of how to work the system, the adult will be as unwitting and unwilling a victim as any child "client" of the social worker brotherhood.

What's prompted this after a month's worth of absence?

Simple, I've been reading (and commented upon) the blog of a London Magistrate and one of his entries expresses his admiration for the work done by those who work with troubled youth.

Until now, I thought magistrates just grudgingly accepted and commended the work done by social workers. Now I see it's just possible that the judiciary actually believes those parasites are of some sort of benefit.

I am stunned and horrified.

I know from my dealings with the police that it's an unwritten code that one branch of the public service is forbidden to speak ill of any other branch of the public service - but I have friends in just about all branches of the public service and I am privy to the bitchiness and backstabbing which goes on every day. Each branch of the public service seems to know what EVERY member of the general public knows and will openly declare: that the public sector is fucked beyond belief.

Judges, it has long been held here in Victoria, have practically no idea of anything to do with the attitudes of the public at large and frequently utter such insane remarks as "She brought this violence on herself" that they simply have to be removed from the bench. And rightly so. It's one thing to hold such beliefs, but to express them and express them in a public forum - I wouldn't trust such an individual to make me a cup of coffee let alone decide on the fate of a fellow member of society. "He has shown genuine remorse..." FUCK OFF! The cunt did it because he felt it was a good thing for him to do. Of course he's going to show remorse, not for what he's done - but for getting caught. Blind Freddy can see that, why the hell can't a bloody judge see it?

I believe in rehabilitation. I don't believe in the death penalty at all or unduly long sentences for crimes against property. I dislike crimes against the person, however, and I would like to see punishments for these offences reflect my community's attitudes to such crimes. The community expects crimes against children to punished most severely of all - judges seldom see it that way.

Judges often see mitigating circumstances when there is a crime committed against a child. Remorse is one such example. In exactly the same way, judges buy any and all claptrap spouted by social workers who in one breath extol the progress the child has made, in order to appear like a hero to the child, then in the next breath complain about how the child repeatedly thwarts or sabotages all efforts to help.

Yet the judges buy it every time. As I said before, until now I just thought they had to buy it as part of their job description. The blog I just read confirms my worst fears.

So Long

I love it when I can get one of my old 80s faves back from the mists of time.

When I read your letter I couldn't believe that you'd gone.
I dialed your number but no one answered the phone.
I asked your friends to tell me if they knew where you were,
They said they thought that you were ill.
I hired a detective to try and find out where you are.
He managed to trace you, he said you were living in France.
A watchman saw you climb into someone else's car
And drive off laughing in the night.

Why didn't you tell me?
Not leave me this way.
Ooh you could have told me
Not waited for so long.

I've tried to forget you but I found myself walking the street.
I went to the doctor and he gave me something to sleep.
I've sent you telgrams but you haven't answered one.
Your mother told me I best leave you well alone.
I hope you're satisfied now you've done this thing to me.
I hope you're pleased with what you've done.

Why didn't you tell me?
Not leave me this way.
Oooh you could have told me.
Not waited for so long.

For so long
I never realised just exactly who you were.
For so long
I never realised the girl I had before.
For so long
I hope you're satisfied you won't hear from me again.
For so long
I hope you're pleased with what you've done.

Why didn't you tell me?
Not leave me this way.
Ooh you should have told me.
Not waited for so long.


So Long, by Fisher Z.

Buy Me!!

http://filext.tradepub.com/free/cc/

My head almost exploded from the assortment of impressions which flashed through it upon spotting this little number.

There's a magazine dedicated to professional people in charge of those hidden irritation factories known as Call Centres. It's called, predictably, Call Center Magazine.

It discusses best practices for "customer care" as if customer care were at the top of the agenda for any corporation.

Let me just explain this a little better. A call centre, even when it's primarily an inbound sales office, is an expense. For every sales person you have clicking through the credit card details, there are at least two support personnel in IT, help desk, supervision or HR.

These are the sorts of call centres who put you on hold for five hours when you ring up with an "issue". They don't really want to talk to you, they want you to sort yourself out, hence the automated menu system, and recorded helpline services.

The other kinds of call centres, the outbound ones, the ones that ring you up when you're about to set down to dinner or watch your favourite evening tv show, or take the kids to sport on Saturday morning - those annoyance generators don't give a fuck about "customer care", they just want you to be home so they can sell you shit or get you to cough up to their charity.

What is "Best Practice" as far as a call centre is concerned? Well, subscribe to Call Center Magazine and find out. I have to admit, I'm tempted to sign on for this one just for the laughs. I know what I expect when I ring a call centre, therefore I only ever ring the ones I know will give me what I want - an instant answer to my question. My bank gives me that. My phone company gives me that. Any other call centre is called a shop front and the keypad is on the end of my legs enveloped in a pair of shoes. If someone can't deal with my stuff face to face, let them face the horrors of their own call centre and I'll sit and watch their chagrin if I have nothing better to do.

Needless to say, when my computer crashed, I didn't bother phoning anyone about it. I reformatted my hard drive and started reloading all the old apps one by one and dredging through the drive to find the stuff I wanted to put back on my desktop.

Oh I'm so tempted to sub up for this magazine. So so so tempted. It could be the source for a few editions worth of amusement of a different nature. Different but somehow typically familiar.

Oops, update.

Still pissed off with people who don't know up from down.

Someone chokes back tears and it's taken as clues the person is lying.


Anton and I had a wonderful argument today about this website we're going to build. It occurred to me how much I value that lad. Here's the deal: I'm allowed to complain about everything he says to me, but anyone trying to besmirch his character is going way over the boundaries of acceptable behaviour. If I didn't have so enormous an amount of affection for him, would I bother arguing every minor detail with him or just go right ahead and do whatever I want to do with this website without him.

Bit of a no-brainer isn't it.


One of the English kids has an ace up his sleeve as far as hitting my wonderful big green button goes too. He has this threat he likes to produce, seemingly at the drop of a hat: I'm gonna sign that fucker up for so much stuff, his inbox is gunna be fucked.

You have to admit, that is a truly wonderful annoyance tactic, and one that amuses me mightily. Naturally I've pointed him in Cheri's direction. :) And in case anyone's wondering, I did derive an inordinate amount of pleasure as a kid poking ants' nests with long sticks and watching the ensuing frenzy. Especially venomous ants' nests when there was an element of danger involved. (Those fuckers attack in numbers and sting like capital bastards.)

It sure beats the shit out of plague's impotent rantings and threats. I may just pop back into that group just to antagonise him a bit further. I certainly would if I didn't already have so much on my plate right now.


I have to attend an expo tomorrow afternoon. A major seminar and schmooze fest. I'll be attending four seminars on leadership and the latest in marketing bamboozleness. I'll be taking my copy of Cluetrain Manifesto just to see how many know anything at all about speaking with voice, not with corpo hucksterism. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised - I somehow doubt it.

I'm not really going for the seminars though. I'm well enough versed in all that hokum to realise the real business is done over the plonk and canapes where people swap business cards and email addresses and get down to real business when the festival induced haze and mutual back slapping is just an unpleasant memory. Four seminars is more than enough time for me to sus out who the real people are and who is just there to take advantage of the free drinks.

(Yes, I detest these functions. They are an unnecessary evil, beset on all sides with bullshitters of the highest order. It's an inescapable fact of life for the schmoozoisie that those who consider themselves Schmoozemasters will organise these nauseating episodes of self-congratulation and mutual cock-sucking and the only people who don't need to go are those who have actually been invited to be part of the audience. It's slightly different for me; I'm being PAID to listen to these wankers and bring back the vital information. If I'm lucky, I may get a free box of tissues.)

I'll report the gory details tomorrow. If my opinion changes between now and then, just say a quiet prayer for the soul you once knew as ChatRat.

Let's see what happens here :)

I quit several groups in the last couple of weeks. Two of those had been invaded by the plague who is apparently still bent on getting his sweet revenge against PA.

Rather than rejoin those groups to have it out with him, I thought I'd plonk it here to see just how impressively manic the guy is, to see how far his lunacy extends. Will he join the fray here or take my words here and spread them somewhere else?

Either way, I couldn't give a shit but it's going to be amusing to find out if I'm right on the one hand, and on the other it has been a long time since I blogged anyway so it's well overdue.

Here are the facts after Ardragate:

plague rejoined and scrolled 4 threads. Wherever Ardra posted, plague scrolled.

He wanted her booted out of the comm, neither Liz nor I was prepared to do it because we both know it was Ardra who took down P4Idiots. Hell, I was in an IM convo with her when she did it for the 2nd time in 3 days. We just didn't want that happening to PA so we left her alone.

plague thinks that's just moral cowardice for one and denying him of justice for another.

The sanctimonious stoat hasn't taken into account that Ardra booted 6 members and deleted all their posts as well - including mine - but none of the other 5 is baying for justice. Just him. So, nobody wants justice but him.

I told him why she's not being booted. I even used reverse psychology on him, that to boot her is only giving her exactly what she wants. Why do that? Let everyone see what she's really made of.

A week or so after all this, we start getting notifications from MSN to remove content which breaches their new puritanical code of conduct. We got 7 such notifications in all. And the group managed to survive. Both Dreamian and I - and I expect Liz as well - got an email response from MSN which included the original complaint from plague.

Three days after I posted the email from MSN to the PA boards, plague was still denying he was the one who sent the original reports.

After realising nobody was buying his accusation that someone was using his email address to make those reports, he changed tack and claimed he was going to start doing everything he could to get PA shut down. Since then, not one solitary notification from MSN.

The group was made public again for 90 minutes while ConMonkey and I used a search engine she set up to find questionable messages and images - and he managed to get in and go for a snoop - claiming he'd found lots of nice urls to report to MSN. Still we get no new reports from them of breaches of the code of conduct.

Now I see he's lying again saying he "was told that all sorts of secret things were happening behind the scenes, and that various people were "taking action".

Oh really? What secret things? They must be REALLY secret because I haven't heard diddly about anything going on or that any action is being taken. I'll ask Liz and Dream if they know anything about it, but my guess is they're as much in the dark as I am.

The only "secret" thing I did was report Ironbox's threats to MSN because it would be highly amusing to me if they banned her from all her groups and I don't recall telling anyone I'd done that either. (I still haven't heard back from MSN on that complaint.) Maybe I did, I can't remember and it's not important enough to bother pursuing.


There is another side issue going as well, which strikes me as in just as poor taste as Ardra's return to PA. I've only seen it in one group, but she's reposted Will's message about finding 14 year old girls attractive. I know it's a ruse because I know where Will's coming from. But Ardra, myriad and a couple of others bought it. ConMonkey now knows it was a ruse, Will has congratulated himself on the remarkable success of the ruse - but Ardra, having been called on falling for it - has decided I'm just a fucking creep.

Oh when chester said it, it was the crime of the century but because I'm on good terms with Will, it's perfectly ok. You fucking creep, ChatRat.

The difference, Ardra, is that chester meant it. Will doesn't. I know that, you obviously don't. He set a trap and you're pissed off because you fell for it and I knew it was coming. Sure the topic is in the worst possible taste, but what better way to attract lightning than with a lightning rod.

Face it Ardra, you're turning into a fat little no-life housewife and nobody is more disappointed about that than me. You used to have cred and class. Now all you have is fluffy pink slippers and a collection of The Best of Oprah.

I don't even know why I bothered responding to plague in the first place. It was clear from the outset that the only possible point of view on the whole thing was his own and nobody else had the first damn clue about anything.

Just imagine if we did do to Ardra what she did to six of us - even now. Does he really think doing a backflip is going to resolve anything for anyone? I mean what kind of unbelievable naivete would even prompt a continuation of holding that current line? Is there even one functioning brain cell in that head of his?

And what's with the bullshit and twisting and turning? "I was told of secret agendas..." "action being taken..." Fuck off. Just fuck off. You lost. Get over it.

People shit me

I was discussing with Anton and Cody what TVFR will become we get around to a name change and how subversive it might become.

Being the irretrievable mischief-maker that I am, I have an itchy trigger finger to take on the biggest of the lot and make a mockery of everything they do. Fox News wants a good hard arsefucking and an energetic Crew would be perfect to do it.

The old dragon Murdoch - whose mother I've actually met - couldn't possibly expect sympathy from any crowd for taking on a bunch of teenagers who managed to upstage him. Anyway, I checked out Virgin News and almost fell into a coma, so I poked my nose over to the Fox News website and got smacked in the eye by the continuing saga of Justin Berry.

It made me cry. No, I mean really. For like 20 minutes and there'll be more later.

The whole sorry story is just one great big fuckoff. It's Stephen Stayner on steroids kind of fuckoff. Don't even intimate to me you've never heard of either of those kids, that would really get up my nose in a bad way. A really bad way. A not joking kind of really bad way. You've all heard of Gandhi, he made his decisions as an adult. Him getting a bullet turned him into a modern day Jesus. I'm talking about kids who suffered worse than he did and had no choice in the matter. Kids whose stories make Gandhi's life look like a picnic.

The last two days have been bizarre.

First, that interminable dickhead cleo, handmaiden of all that's inane, fluffy and intellectually void, starts poking fun because I was made an AM in a group started a few weeks ago by some English kids who found me being my usual self in a comm I've been around for 3 or 4 years. Three days the group was going before the filth got in and made things uncomfortable for them. The owner talked to me about it and when I confirmed what they were already feeling, they booted him and made me an AM. I've got a sneaking suspicion its crept back in under another nick so I've put the spotlight on him.

Just like I had to protect PA from plague's fury last week, I'm never going to sit by and allow some filthy slimeball to get fresh with those kids. I set the thing to send me all messages as emails so there's no hiding if anyone has a shot at them and I'll boot them in a heartbeat without word or warning. No fuss, no fanfare, just get out.

To make my position clear to this person, I had to word it without putting it in black and white, that I will protect those kids as much as humanly possible from even the hint of impropriety. I had to hint all around it in order not to come across as patronising to them whilst still being adamant with the individual in question. Basically, put up or shut up and get out. I was congratulated on my effort by one of the other members who said:

"Very nicely put! If I am ever sentenced to "Tact Management Rehabilitation" class, will you be my tutor?"

Cheri weighed in with her efforts, not even worth the proverbial two cents, and I got wind of that via Will. She had a shot at me for something of which I knew absolutely nothing then hinted that I should be having nothing to do with young people. TVFR wouldn't exist without at least one young person. What it's going to become in a couple of weeks won't be created without more. I will demonstrate to anyone with a pulse and more than one brain cell just of what 'young people' are capable - and things like her and cleo can ooze with envy and malevolence as much as they like.

Codemeister came to my rescue today, bless him. I got bent out of shape in the middle of what I was doing and he just happened to catch me imploding, put his foot down and gave it to me straight. There are still one or two issues which for me, preclude objectivity. He's abundantly aware of what they are and he basically told me to stop being a prat. Anton probably would have, but he had Laura coming over to his place and neither Cody nor I mentioned anything to him, the better to preserve his good mood. Better coming from Cody though, Anton's a fucking bastard when he's pissed off. Ain't no time for sympathy and biscuits there, oh no. He would have laughed and made it the joke of the week. (You can see why I like him so well.)

Moving on, I got an anonymous email today asking me how I go about taking down child porn websites. So for anyone who's interested, here's how I do it:

I utilise the services of iwf.org.uk and the FBI's internet adjunct, ic3.gov. Why the two sites? Because inter-service rivalry is alive and well. If I reported a site to one or the other, it would sit there for months until somebody got around to doing something about it. I found that out the hard way. By reporting it to both sites, and telling both I've reported it to their competition, they fall all over themselves to claim victory in the shutting down of yet another vile example of the depths to which filth will operate. See? Method people, method.

I stopped counting somewhere in the 40s for the number of sites I've had them shut down. The novelty wears off when you realise the more you shut down, the more that spring up and the genuine ones are harder to find and they're more refined about how they share and spread their disease. The only upside - if you can call it that - is what I find now means I don't have to see what's going on, it's all links which just somehow magically find their way into the loving arms of the FBI.

I also got a hugely encouraging email from Republican Senator of Massachusetts, Scott Brown in some perennial battle he's going to have with the MA chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union's Carol Rose over the sex offender register in that state. To put it in a nutshell, I gave him ammunition he can use and I gave her a shot of how's your uncle. He replied, she didn't. So I sent Mr Brown a copy of the email I sent to Ms Rose - advising him of the fact she hadn't responded. (And still hasn't.)

Diddums, do I ask tough questions and present immutable evidence? How diabolically inconsiderate of me. Carol hunny, get fucked the hard way. Child victims may not have a voice you can hear, but I sure as shit have one and you better listen because if I get really pissed off, I'm the sort who'll plaster your squalid little organisation's Boston branch all over the place. 99 issues out of a hundred, I couldn't give a damn about but this the THE one about which you won't have me silent for love or money.

Fair and balanced? In your eye, bitch. Back off the register.


Other things have accorded me a bit of gruntage in the last couple of days but having typed them twice and deleted them - just to compare, you understand - I decided it was a degree of self-indulgence in which even I can't bask.

Besides which, despite this whole rampage of self indulgence, I'm still more than conscious of the agony upon which it is based. To add my personal grievance to what sparked this update just seems vulgar and insensitive in the extreme.

*sigh* I should have just listened to Anton. Those kids just know.

OMG Update WTF!

Well, I got my first email response from a non-Australian politician today. The joy of that is I haven't done any research at all to which side of the political spectrum he belongs, we're talking about my favourite subject and we're essentially on the same side.

I know after discovering the filth's blog that I promised to keep this one updated more regularly than in the past - I'd hate to disappoint my readership of two :/ - but the fact is, I've been doing more research than I normally do and writing stuff to which I'm not really accustomed to writing. (Acute absense of swearing, in other words.)

I've been keeping tabs elsewhere and getting involved in other matters, so it's not like my overall activity level has declined, it's just been directed elsewhere.

I get the distinct impression Anton's avoiding me because he hasn't had time to do his updatage of TVFR. Poor kid. I totally understand he's got school commitments to worry about and it's better for both our sakes he directs his energies there rather than on TVFR. TVFR will wait, his future will be on him before he knows it and he won't have wanted to have squandered his time on a bit of fun at the expense of that future.

I miss him though.

Strangely enough, I'm missing Sarah too. Haven't heard from her for a week now and since she used to occupy what was my quiet time of an evening, I've actually been a tad uninspired this week just past.

Maybe it's because in the preceding week, we talked for about 40 hours and she feels there's nothing left to discuss. Who knows.

Sean has finally expressed an interest in taking photos for autoboston.com but since my last message to him, he's gone awol as well. I even gave him ideas and examples of the sort of pics I can use for the blog.

I haven't made up my mind yet whether I'd use his work or Caleb's to fill the void I'm planning to create at TVFR too. On one hand, I feel like I owe it to Caleb, but I haven't asked how interested he'd be to get involved. On the other hand, Sean is more popular than a Coke and fries in his neck of the woods and passing up the opportunity to get that much of a fanbase to boost TVFR would be insane. Sean's work really is that good, and he just oozes charisma. It's a bitch because I'm also very fond of Caleb and I know if he agreed to do something for me, he would neither keep me waiting nor give me the runaround. Their work would be of comparable quality too.

If I take the objective view, I'd have to go with Sean for autoboston.com and Caleb for TVFR. If Sean took an interest in TVFR, then I'd find a way they could both get involved. If Caleb took an interest in autoboston.com, I'd have to come up with specific requirements for him, because he's not local to the Boston area.

Deary me, the intricacies of running active blogs all over the place.. I don't know.

Cody's music is contagious. First listening I always think 'meh, nothing special' but listen to it twice and it becomes irresistible. I haven't made up my mind yet just what that's all about.

Had a couple of hours conversation with Seth the other day. I love those kids so much. Every time I talk to them, they come up with some unreal little nugget of information which just hits me in the eye like a javelin.

Chris is even starting to demonstrate that uncanny habit of knowing what I'm about to say before I say it. Am I that predictable or is he getting that scary?

Whoever that woman in Adelaide is got me the other day too. I swear I will never understand the female of the species. You don't hear from them for weeks then all of a sudden you're talking like you went to the same party just the day before. We were talking for ages and I can't even remember what we talked about, except that it didn't drag on or get that strained sort of aspect about it when someone breaks an uncomfortable silence by saying something stupidly banal like "So, you have a blog somewhere..."

The only ones I can talk to for any length of time are the ones who don't try to get into my head or smother me with compliments. It didn't occur to me the whole time we were talking that I don't even know her name.

Someone should make a movie about it.

"The Name of the Prose."

(So sue me.)

The eternal optimist

If you click on the links at the top right hand page of this um page, you're apt to come across - well - God only knows what, really.

Things like this...

http://chalahan2006.blogspot.com/

You can just imagine my reaction when I saw that. Yeah, I just had to come and tell everyone.

Caption contest over.

There, I'm happy with that caption.

Probably helps that I'm very fond of the person in the picture too.

Catching up with the old gang

Years and years ago, probably 2 and a half to be more accurate, one of the kids in Queensland and I would talk for hours on messenger or on the phone, usually at times one or both of us should have been asleep and then, because of circumstances we stopped.

He got a new internet provider or something, I got a new phone with a new number and it seems all attempts at communication proved futile. Odd really.

Anyway, the other day, I tripped over some spot on the e-bog where he just happens to have left a footprint, so I threatened terrible repercussions if he didn't drop a message and say g'day.

And he did.

It's one of the nicest things being me that if I lose contact for a while with someone, I can always just pick up the threads as if it were just the week before since I spoke to them last.

And the best thing of all about Andrew is he's even more relaxed about everything than I am. Hard to believe, I know, but there you have it.

This has been another presentation from your emotionally dangerous ChatRat

My day starts late

Yesterday was weird. I was totally bored out of my head for the first few hours, then it got intense and I didn't want it to end. Then all the intensity dried right up and I went to bed early.

Today I got up early and was totally bored out of my head for the first few hours, then it got intense for an hour or two and I had to go out. Which pretty much wrecked the rest of the day. I watched Phantom Menace until the pod race, then I got bored with that and got back on the net. I've been making a nuisance of myself for an hour or so but I don't really feel like pushing my luck there any more than I have been lately.

I bailed early on a couple of the kids because I had to go out and I have this horrible feeling it was as disappointing for them as it was for me. They get talking and they don't stop until they're ready to collapse at their keyboards. (And people wonder why I love them so much...)

I'm still bored though.

Those corporations that want my money all sent me birthday greetings yesterday. Way to go, guys. One's going to get it, the rest can go fuck themselves.

I'm also staring at the only birthday present that managed to find its way through the alienation filters and gift-giving firewalls I thought I'd maintained pretty well. My dad sent it through my brother then rang up to make sure I'd got it.

He never ever understood me. I just don't know how I could make it any plainer - forget the day, don't tell me I'm no longer the same age I was the day before. Unbelievable. Oh well.

I should get very drunk. I feel like have a binge but I'm just too damn bored to even get the bottle out. Besides, I don't think there's any ice.

My playlist is better than yours. It has much David Bowie on it. So there.

On Zadok the Priest and other things

What a stupid name for a song... Zadok the Priest.

It rambles on a bit, but me being ever so slightly the Philistine, I chopped the rest of the mp3 off after the first stanza - which, let's face it, is the best bit of the whole song.

I love the strings, not so much the chorale and the brass.

Wikipedia has a picture of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra playing that piece at Rod Laver Arena - damn fine picture too.




One I think Caleb could well appreciate. Speaking of Caleb, he posted a simply superb pic of Cody to his blog, which I couldn't resist.

One of these days, probably fairly soon I should think, I'll come up with one of those brief and meaningful quotations which future generations of tie-wearing twats will frame in their little plastic box offices and thereby completely ruin the sentiment of what is otherwise a magnificent and beautiful picture.



Yeah, I think it's fair to say I'm in an exceptionally upbeat mood right now.

Rageboy sent me another email after I did one of those terrible things to people in the middle of something too. I sent him a link to a book I thought he might find interesting and pertinent to Mystic Bourgeoisie and he was interested in it. Didn't consider my sending it a nuisance at all. Wooo!

I rock.

It's hot again this weekend. Just thought I'd finish by trying to return you to the state you were in before you started reading this edition. It'd be successful too if you don't stare at Caleb's picture of Cody by the lake too long as well.

Too busy or not too busy

I did the oddest thing today. One of the kids was disinclined to update their blog, so I did it in the form of a comment. Yet to see how it rates but I liked it.

In other news, if you've noticed a slowing down of the internet of late, blame Rageboy. He's started a new movement at frappr and hasn't slowed down any of his other activities. The hogging of bandwidth is all down to him. I feel so honoured I got in early. I even got a reply whilst things were slow.

Down Clothing Co. is with it all the way too. Ordinarily I'd dismiss these people as rank spammers, the K-Mart of the internet, but there was just something classy about what they sent me and rather than opt for my usual disdain of such things, I decided to bite. As in take the bait, not snap back at them for their impertinence.

Impertinence is one my more endearing qualities so how I could begrudge a clothing company that quality. Well, I can't. Now, let's just see of what they're made. Will they follow it up or will I have to jolt them into action? Time will tell.

I feel the love.

But it feels like it's flowing to me at the expense of those around me - kinda like RB sucking up all the bandwidth. Just what the hell I'm supposed to do with it is anyone's guess though. I turn on the tap and there's all this lovin' comin' out at me. It's not like I can cram it all back, but I can't make good use of it either. Why people don't listen to a word I say is beyond me too. Here, I'll throw it up in big bold capitals for you:

LOVE YOURSELVES, NOT ME.

I don't want hosers for groupies. Actually, I don't especially want groupies either. I'm an RB groupie. If you want to be more like me - and I know you do - become an RB groupie too.

Clickage on the right.

Two words, sprung on me for the first time in 1979 have come amusingly hauntingly back into the forefront of my consciousness.

History Revision.

It used to be what we did before a test on Friday, but now it's a criminal offence in some countries.

lol...

Adults are so fucked up aren't they?

Walking at night

I like to go walking at night. I'm well known in my neighbourhood because I nod, smile and say g'day to everyone coming the other way. There aren't many people who walk around at night around here. They're mostly in their 60s so they stay inside and knit or watch the ABC.

I'm feeling a bit overcrowded, that's why I like to do things without interference from other people from time to time. I'm feeling overcrowded because the phone is ringing with offers I don't want. I'm getting emails from people I don't like and requests for all sorts of shit for people about whom I couldn't care less and who care nothing for me either.

I kinda loathe superficiality. It's social clutter. It's like having to put with someone's psychological garbage because they have no idea how to deal with it themselves. I sure as shit don't want it. If you have nothing worthwhile to say, then just shut the fuck up.

One of the kids grabbed me on messenger and was very reticent about getting me to evaluate a poem he'd written for a school assignment. They all know I hate poetry. I got it out of him eventually and it was really very good. For someone who hates poetry to say that, it must have been something special.

Don't worry though, you're never going to read it from my keyboard. (I reserve my prerogative to be an arsehole.)

What's the difference between depression and laziness?

Think carefully before you start sending me emails.

Time for my evening's contemplative stroll.
(I want to get to the shop before it shuts.)

Oooh ditto.

I have a week off.

Among other annoying events, or perhaps that should be non-events, I forgot to eat again today. I mean, I opened the cupboards and had a look around, I opened the fridge and the freezer and I grabbed a couple of things, then I put them back because I couldn't be bothered making anything because I realised I couldn't be bothered eating anything either.

My dog does enough eating for both of us, the fluffy fat red pig that he is. I didn't eat anything yesterday either. I tend to sleep through most of Saturday now. I rang my beloved Liz and spoke to her for an hour or so all the way across the ocean in Oregon. Ok, well she asked me to and I did because I do that sort of thing for people I love and I love Liz to bits.

It would be nice if people didn't shit on her as much as they seem to do. I wish she'd just get on a plane and come to Australia. She could learn to relax a little bit and there's no better place on earth - besides Ibiza - to relax. Australians are generally so laid back it's a wonder we're not all corpses.

I have a week to either find a new gig or just get a regular full time permanent job. Gigs are good because they're not permanent and they pay rather nicely, but they just don't seem to give me the same satisfaction as regular work.

I gave that youth newspaper a thorough going over yesterday too and was stunned and mortified and lots of other unpleasant words ending with d which pretty much meant this newspaper is nothing short of advertising pitched at teenagers. Fucking bastards. What a scam. Someone's getting paid too much and I bet they're not delivering even one tenth for what the misbegotten punter is paying. There's absolutely bugger all in it for young people.

S-Press has to be a better bet, but the thought of taking notepad, pen and paper into school events and that sort of thing smacks of whitewash to me. I don't like it, although to give them their due, they're not pretending to be a charity, they have a massive Your Say section and the ads are pretty much for the sort of stuff the kids go for whether they're advertised or not. Billabong sells itself, they don't need to advertise. S-Press's biggest flaw is the paper itself isn't a freebie. If it were, the circulation would probably go through the roof. Anyway, if I want a writing gig, or even a writing job, I'm going to have to toe someone's line and it sure as shit beats going up against a million other jokers all vying for a spot in The Big Issue (which is a surprisingly good publication) for a couple of hundred bucks a fortnight. That's good money for coffees after work but it ain't gunna cut it when the electrickery bill comes around.

Lastly, I spotted something somewhere which is right up Rageboy's alley right now, considering what he's writing. I must find it again and send him the link, though he's pretty much mapped out his book and everything he's going to put in it. Pro writers tend to do that - get their whole book planned, make the entire framework and never deviate even one iota from that framework as they fill in the gaps. Sorta means I'm probably too late, but it still may interest him nevertheless.

And between the time I wrote that and posted it here, I found the link for which I was searching. Damn I'm good.

The cap I habitually wear is wearing out and I can't get another one. What a bitch.

They're all talking about it now

One of the kids on the other side, well two of them actually, brought up the subject of filth not exactly propositioning underage girls, but pretty damn close to it and yes, he's involved in the youth division of some political party.

Am I annoyed by this?

Well waddaya reckon!

I had a conversation with her this afternoon and told her it's freaked me out these last two days and although I didn't need to beg her to keep herself and her friends safe, it's the kids who don't have those networks or are in any other way vulnerable that this cunt will pick on. The bloke has a reputation as a creep but when some kid who is feeling isolated for whatever reason seeks out another the rest of the group shuns, it spells Trouble - and makes this Rat fret.

Maybe the kids I know are safe from him, but somewhere, some kid isn't.

Right, so it's my personal hang up but let's face it, when you know from personal experience how those fuckers operate, the patterns are pretty easy to recognise.

Oh did I say hang up? Oops, sorry - I meant hobby horse. I ride that baby not exactly with pride and joy, but I'm not about to abandon my enthusiasm for it, there's too much at stake to leave that sort of thing to chance.

I help those kids feel better about a whole range of things and I know - again from personal experience as well as the words of professionals - that a high self esteem is a kid's best defence against predators. And that's what it's all about, self esteem.

When I see the kids defaulting to laziness or irresponsibility when it comes to things they know they should be doing, I jump on them for it. The best and most efficient means of building their self esteem is to make them feel as though they can achieve their goals, that they can operate effectively in this world and they have back-ups if they need them. (Networking.)

When they default, they know they've defaulted. They can't lie to themselves and I don't let them get away with trying to spring that shit on me either. They know it too. Probably why the ones with whom I've spent the most time actually do respect me.

I'm tough on them because defaulting, taking the easy way out or making excuses LOWERS their sense of self esteem. Whatever it takes to motivate them to achieve even tiny goals is gold dust to me. Knowing their interests and aspirations is how I fight their laziness or defaulting and taking the easy way out. Is that using their goals against them or is it effective in motivating them to get off their arses and help themselves to be what they want to be?

We do have a lot of laughs along the way, I'm not saying I stand over them like some ogre demanding they pull their fingers out and get on with their lives, but I do make heavy usage of analogies and sometimes it's hard to come up with really good ones. I can't handle this attitude of self defeat which I first saw in print in 1991 in John Holt's excellent book "How Children Fail" in the chapter titled "Strategies".

Being successful is hard work and developing strategies for dealing with people who want you to succeed is a recipe for personal disaster. They have to bite the bullet and do what they know is the right thing to do, not make excuses or find reasons for doing the wrong thing and being lazy.

It's hard being tough with some of those kids too. I don't want to lose any of them. I really do love them that much. But if they see me as someone on whom they can rely, how bad would it be to let them down by ignoring the warning signs and being a part of their failure instead of being there to see them achieve everything they want to achieve. I can't do that. I won't do it.

*sigh*

It's ok to admit you can't do something but only after they've given it their best shot and not some half arsed token gesture of an attempt. Asking for help and support is probably the hardest aspect of working towards personal success anyway. I hope I make it easy for them to come to me when they want that kind of support and encouragement.

I think I do. They've come to me with some pretty far out questions and requests, and they let me do other stuff for them too, particularly when it comes to writing or music and I absolutely leap on even half an opportunity to do whatever I can. One of those requests took me four days to finish, but it was worth it.

Anyway, I'm done for tonight. Take what you will from all of this and apply it to whomever you please. If self esteem doesn't rate with anyone reading this, then kindly just fuck off. I'm not interested in entertaining the willful emotional leper.

Too boring to do over there...

What's worse than a Josh with too much time on his hands?
A plagiarising Rat with even more time.

:x: do you wish you could live somewhere else: No way. Melbourne's perfect.
:x: do you think about suicide: Not any more.
:x: do you believe in online dating: I've never been that lonely.
:x: do you think others find you attractive: More fool them if they do.
:x: do you want (more) piercings: No.
:x: do you like cleaning: Hate it.
:x: do you like roller coasters: No.
:x: write in cursive or print: Both.
:x: last talked to: George
:x: last thought of: Josh - it's his quiz.
:x: last showered: Last night.
:x: last cut your nails: Last week.
:x: last did laundry: Last Sunday.
:x: last hugged a tree: I don't do that herbisexual bullshit
:x: last watched anime: What's anime?
:x: last prayed: More than 20 years ago, still waiting for an answer.

for or against…
:x: long distant relationships: Madder than mad. Even short distance ones are fraught with danger.
:x: killing people: If the bastards deserve to die.
:x: teenage smoking: dislike it
:x: driving drunk: Fucking idiots.
:x: gay/lesbian relationships: For.
:x: soap operas: For braindead fat housebound dole bludgers only.

have you…
:x: ever cried over a romantic interest: No
:x: ever been in a fist fight: Not really. When I hit, I don't get hit back.
:x: ever been arrested: Yes
:x: ever had a friend die: More than I care to number.
:x: ever dated a cousin: Don't have any cousins.
:x: ever used a gun: Yes
:x: ever frenched kiss: Yes
:x: ever finished a puzzle: Yes
:x: ever got surgery: Yes
:x: ever got beat up: No
:x: ever hated someone: So much it hurts.
:x: ever made a huge mistake: More than I care to remember..
:x: ever tried any drugs: Not many
:x: ever jogged a mile: Only when I was young and foolish
:x: ever played w/ someone’s feelings: Unintentionally perhaps.
:x: ever had feelings for someone younger than you: Of course.

what..
:x: shoes do you wear: Puma.
:x: are you scared of: Nothing in particular.
:x: do you sleep in: Whatever I last wore during the day.
:x: did you eat for lunch today: Didn't.
:x: is love: A good excuse for behaving like a tosspot.

number…
:x: of times I have had my heart broken?: Once or twice.
:x: of hearts I have broken?: One or two.
:x: of girls I have kissed?: lost count
:x: of boys I have kissed?: Only my former boss and my little brother.
:x: of guys/girls you've rejected?: All of them now.
:x: of drugs you taken: God, how many are there!
:x: of people you lean on?: 1
:x: of people you broke up with?: Don't recall
:x: of people who broke up with you?: See above.

Would you say you are...
:x: pretty: Nope
:x: funny: Meh
:x: hot: No way.
:x: friendly: Not usually
:x: ugly: Not in the dark
:x: loveable: Hope not
:x: caring: Yes
:x: dorky: Who's asking?
:x: cocky: I'm not cocky, I'm just fuckin' awesome. (I left this one as I found it.)
:x: girly: Never
:x: boyish: Often.
:x: smart: Yeah I'd say so.
:x: pimp: Nah
:x: angel: Definitely not
:x: gangster: Bunch of insecure tossers.
:x: God: No, Cheri's God, Ardra's the Devil and I'm just the mail man..

favorite…
:x: FOUR letter word: Crap
:x: comedian: Robin Williams/ Billy Connolly
:x: candy: Chocolate
:x: cartoon: Prince Planet
:x: cereal: I don't really have one
:x: chewing gum: Nah
:x: day of week: Saturday
:x: least fave day: Thursday
:x: jello flavor: Disgusting revolting stuff - even to wrestle in.
:x: summer/winter: Autumn
:x: trampolines or swimming pools: Pools

Last person who/that...
:x: slept in your bed: Me
:x: saw you cry: I don't know.
:x: made you cry: My little brother.
:x: you went to the movies with: George
:x: yelled at you: George?
:x: sent you an email: Tiffers.

have you ever…
:x: said "I love you" and meant it?: Yeah.
:x: gone out in public in your pajamas?: Yeah, except they weren't MY pyjamas.
:x: kept a secret from everyone?: I guess.
:x: cried during a movie?: Often. I lose it big time in movies.
:x: ever at anytime owned new kids on the block?: No, I don't do that sort of thing.
:x: planned your week based on the TV Guide?: Tv, that's what they had before the internet isn't it?
:x: been on stage?: Heaps of times
:x: been to New York? No
:x: been to California?: No
:x: been to Florida?: No
:x: Hawaii?: No
:x: China?: No
:x: Canada?: One of the few places to which I would like to go.
:x: Europe?: No
:x: what time is it now? 9:42pm
:x: apples or bananas?: Bananas
:x: blue or red?: Blue
:x: walmart or target?: I'd rather die
:x: spring or fall?: Autumn. Wankers who write these things should think globally.
:x: what are you gonna do after you finish this?: Dunno.
:x: what was the last meal you ate?: Lunch - yesterday.
:x: are you bored?: Probably
:x: last noise you heard? Song by Aerosmith.
:x: last smell you sniffed?: Apple pie.
:x: last time you went out of state/province?: 1986
:x: last car ride: two hours ago.

friendship/love…
:x: do you believe in love at first sight?: Of course.
:x: do you want children one day & if so, how many?: If I ever have children it will be for the sheer effect of messing with their heads. (Josh's answer, I'll go with this one too.
:x: most important thing to you in a friendship is?: My friends know when to leave me the fuck alone.

random stuff…
:x: criminal record?: As long as my arm
:x: do you speak any other languages?: I can swear in several
:x: name some of your favorite things in your bedroom: Me.
:x: worst feeling in the world?: Pass.
:x: who are you in love with?: Nobody.

your…
:x: nickname(s): Rat
:x: initials: PR
:x: how old do you look?: 30ish
:x: how old do you act?: 15
:x: glasses/contacts?: Only for reading at the end of a long day.
:x: braces: No


:x: do you have any pets?: Yeah
:x: you get embarrassed?: Sometimes.
:x: what upsets you?: People in general. Mostly the stupid ones.


LoVe LiFe-
:x; who do you love/like a lot: EA
:x: who was your previous signifigant other: Does my little brother count?
:x: who was the last person you kissed: My former boss.
:x: who was the last person you hugged: My boss's wife.
:x: how long have you been with your signifigant other: I'm not and hope not to be.
:x: what is your best memory with this person: solitude.


ChatRat

Tempted

The Russian Stock Exchange has been disrupted by a computer virus.

How unfortunate!

If I didn't find this inherently amusing, you wouldn't be reading about it here. If I thought it a well written article, I'd have copied it here but the possibilities for gigglage were just hanging in the wind like a fat grandma's bloomers on a clothesline in a strong breeze.

What on earth do they trade on the Russian stock exchange anyway? Shares in coal mines? Vodka distilleries? Potato farms? Gee, they'd be worth a packet. How about nuclear power plants... oooh, bad!

Personally, I was unaware the Russkies even had a stock exchange. It's a massive wasteland where everyone thinks food is a luxury to be afforded only by the corrupt, the wealthy and western tourists.

I know that's not a terribly accurate view of Moscow and St Petersberg and probably one or two other large cities, but in the far east of that country, the peasants live on nothing but whale meat, brought to shore in those funny little boats you see being used as fishing boats in tourist brochures for the Philippines. Only there aren't any Philippino fishermen within cooee of Vladivostok.


In other news, I'm feeling decidedly dejected because it seems whilst the owners of my current gig were away on holidays, several thousand dollars went missing and I had everything and nothing to do with it.

I gathered and recorded the taking of the money in the first place, but between my hands and the bank, wads of it went missing and they have their eyes firmly planted on me as being the culprit.

I WISH!!

If I'd pinched a few thousand dollars in a two week spree, what's the chances of me still being there to wait for the fallout? Not a snowflake's chance in hell. I'd be sunning myself in the Victorian high country, throwing stones at errant cattle and - with my laptop computer, plugging in and writing like someone possessed.

I wish I knew where the money went too. I'd rest easier then. It's one thing to be accused of something I haven't done but it's bloody uncomfortable having nothing with which to prove my innocence because it's my word against the paper records I kept - some of which have also gone missing through no fault of my own - and it makes me look as guilty as sin.

There are a couple of things in my favour though. Firstly, I put in very long hours and don't record them which means they're getting my time for nothing. Secondly, mishaps have occurred when I haven't been there. Thirdly, the bloke they entrusted with the shop's management while they were on holidays has been playing funny buggers with them for the last two weeks over unrelated matters.

But I'm still feeling exceedingly disappointed that the finger of blame and incrimination is pointed almost exclusively in my direction and I don't have an adequate answer.

If this gets worse, I'll just quit. I don't care, I'm not going to stand for being accused of something I haven't done and be branded as untrustworthy - a liar and a thief - in short. I just won't.

What bugs me no end though is that I can't tell for sure who's bullshitting whom but I'm piggy in the middle.

I'm going to get some professional advice from Lance on this one. I seriously want out of this whole stupid situation not of my making but I want to get out in such fashion it doesn't make me appear to be guilty of something I haven't done.

I want to help these people, not rub their noses in the dust of lightfingeredness. But I'm still number one in this equation. I'm not about to compromise my own integrity for the sake of a brawl between the proprietors and whomever it is who either should be able to account for the missing money or who should be held accountable for it having actually gone missing.

All that just isn't me. I get involved with the business, not the warping and undermining of it.

Enough of that.


Some jerks put out the most pathetic remake of one of my favourite songs - Forever Young - and whilst the film clip is a good one, the rendition is pox. I hate it.

Too bad. I'm going to listen to a bit of Simon & Garfunkel then go to bed.

Sod the whole world for a few hours. It can bloody well take care of itself without me for a bit.

ChatRat

Losing touch.

Last week I worked a total of 76 hours. I'm officially very very tired.

I'm also getting distressed. I'm very aware that where before I had time at the right time of day to exchange messages with people in real time, that has been supplanted these two weeks just past by work in which I'm rapidly losing interest.

Income is nice but money is only as good as the things for which it used. There's no point having plenty of money and not having the time to enjoy the privileges of being cashed up.

While I know "it's all going to be ok in the long run", it upsets me because it doesn't take a whole lot to go from being ok to being outstanding - for the better or the worse. An ounce of careful management is worth a ton of remedial action.

Moreover, if 99% of perspiration is the result of 1% of inspiration, it doesn't take much to figure out that without that tiny bit of inspiration, all the perspiration will pretty much be for someone else's benefit. Work for the man or be the man for whom others work. You know how it goes.

For those who are missing out on what has erstwhile been the norm, believe me when I say it's burning a hole in my soul as well. I still love you all and miss you terribly.

This cracked me up...

An author answers questions from an interviewer...


How does it feel to receive a good review or an award?

I feel pleased to live in a world where there are such good critics.

And how does it feel to receive a bad review?

I feel sad to live in a world where there are such poor critics.


An ego of that magnitude just deserves respect.

Dragging on...

I dislike anniversaries of things, except the anniversary of the federation of Australia, January 26, also known as Australia Day.

The trouble is, a week from today, it's the anniversary of Christopher's death and as much as I'd like to deny it, it's bugging me not a little.

It's been 6 years (less 7 days) since he died and I don't know whether to be ashamed or proud of the fact I still miss him terribly and that it still hurts.

Right now, I'm still overwhelmingly confident I will never get involved in anything resembling a close personal relationship again. Not that it doesn't seem worthwhile, it's just I haven't come to terms with so magnitudinous a loss yet. Some part of me is still totally distracted by what's no longer there.

Cody would leap on it with glee if I surmised my preoccupation with the Crew, as I've affectionately come to know the kids on the other side, is largely down to missing my little brother so much - considering he was only 19 when he died.

I do sometimes fantasize about a few of them as pseudo replacements for Christopher, but not in any serious way. They are their own people, all different from each other and all different from Christopher. I love them because of who they are, not because I miss my brother.

Looking after Christopher was something of a habit. The only time I wasn't doing something revolving around caring for him was when I was asleep. And I preferred sleeping when he was awake because it was next to impossible to sleep when he was asleep because the little bastard snored like a freight train. It made the windows rattle. When he slept, I was out working but I would call in regularly to make sure he was ok. I was lucky to have had such an understanding boss at the time.

When he died, I had no option but to break the habit. I didn't know what to do with myself. Not only had I lost the person I loved more than any other before or since, my daily routine was ruined.

I'd get up at 4am and go to work, Chris would still be asleep. I'd drop in around 9 to make sure he was ok and get him anything he needed. If he were awake and wanted to come with me, I'd get him dressed and take him back to work with me where he would sit outside and watch the passing traffic until about 1pm when I'd finish. Then I'd spend the rest of the day with him - usually fighting about some stupid thing or other - and we'd end up back at home where I'd crash by 10pm while he watched the television.

Towards the end, we moved the mattresses from his bed and mine into the loungeroom so if he needed anything, he could wake me up. He needed to sleep by the heater because the cold made him ache too much and even morphine wouldn't calm him down. There were days and nights he was in so much pain, all I could do was hold him.

There were times I had to carry him to the car and drive him to hospital, shouting at him to make him remember to breathe. And Christopher wasn't small. He was a stocky nugget of a kid. He lost 20 kilos in his last few months, and I don't know whether he gave up on himself or pitied me for what I was going through watching him waste away, unable even to take care of his basic needs. Before he got sick, he was a small mountain of a kid, strong as an ox. To need help showering and dressing himself was devastating for him. If we didn't share that bond of unequivocal love and trust, that would just have been nightmarish for both of us. He used to apologise if he needed me to help him get to the toilet if it interrupted what I was doing. Then I would hold him again, sometimes for hours, just to reaffirm the fact I still loved him.

There was nothing I didn't do for him and nothing I wouldn't have done for him. It's an attitude that became, as I said, a habit and one I was neither willing nor ready to break. What I got out of caring for him was fulfillment. It was me being more than just me, it was me being fundamental to his life as well. I don't even know how to describe how that made me feel except to lose that feeling suddenly left a massive hole, not only in my daily routine, but in me as a person. Half of me was gone. In many ways, a more noble part of me.

What I get from those kids on the other side is an opportunity to again do in a greatly reduced fashion the one thing that brought me unequalled joy, pride and pleasure, the best thing I can say I've ever done and that is to care about someone other than myself. Christopher could have opted to go into a hospice or hospital, but he hated the very thought of that and chose to stay with me instead. For better or worse, I wouldn't have had it any other way either. What has been the cost to me for doing what I did instead of putting him somewhere he could have had 24/7 professional care? I don't know. Did I gain as a person? Again, I don't know. Would I feel differently about so many things now had I not taken care of my little brother? Maybe. One emotion I don't feel though, is guilt. I did my very best every waking minute of my life and I was 100% devoted to Christopher.

In view of the fact there are times - like the upcoming anniversary of his death - when I feel that loss more keenly than normal, was taking care of Christopher the best thing I could have done for myself? Hindsight, being the interminable fink it is, I have to say the answer is 'no'. It probably wasn't the best thing I could have done for myself. But I can only guess at how I'd feel if I'd have done anything else. I have no alternative but to think I'd feel much worse, and yes, very very guiltridden.

And that's why I can't help wanting to do the things I do and why I can't help wanting and needing to be around for the kids on the other side. Not just the Crew, but all the other kids from the other side as well. That these kids allow me to do that is what continually brings me so much pride and joy.

Parents don't always get things right. They quite often get things very wrong, but as long as there is love, there can be forgiveness for past mistakes. If together a family can muddle its way through the upbringing of a child, the child will turn out just fine as long as there is love for and trust in one another.

I wanted to blog this here instead of there because to me, imposing this sort of emotional burden on a kid is nothing short of abuse. I've no doubt one or two of them will read this, but it's their choice. If I did this over there, it has the potential not to be. If any of them cared enough to read this and comment here, I would take that as a pretty good guage of whether they feel I'm a pain the arse or if, indeed, they place any value on what we've done together over the last 6 months.

For those who needed a reason why I'm there at all, this is it.

For those who need to know what I do there, well, I converse. We talk about music, books, poetry, people, politics, history, blogs and the internet. They send me their music and they listen to mine. We share ideas and we laugh together. Sometimes, I listen to them when they need someone to listen to them or even just to know that someone is there who will listen to them if they ever need to talk.

I blogged this here because although I trust them enough to treat this sensibly, the idea they might take my happiness on as some sort of personal responsibility doesn't sit well with me - and there is more than one who might very well feel that way. That's not what I want. I'm pretty happy just as I am. I don't need any sort of moral support right now. I just wanted to say this because it's important to me to properly identify what I'm feeling - both about this upcoming anniversary of Christopher's death - and my interaction with all of them and how or if the two are related and what that relationship might be.

Maybe not doing this sooner is what has contributed to my making contact with the kids on the other side at all. Again I don't know, although I do suspect that's probably very likely. I can't stress enough how important it is to properly and honestly identify our emotions and deal with them openly and honestly and if that means keeping a diary or blogging, then that's what it means.

When Christopher died, I had an emotional breakdown which was probably a major contributing factor to my last heart attack. Put simply, I stopped wanting to live. I knew that much and it didn't need any further identification than that. But now I do want to live and today, with so much angst being generated because of the date and the anniversary it represents, I'm moved to deal with these feelings I've been carrying for 6 long years. I'll probably blog something similar next week, but the next big bit of writing I will be doing will be on Thursday when I put out the next edition of The Swamp, which will be another Worst Business Practice Award - the 8th WBP since I started them in 2001.

Feel free to comment but be warned now, I won't be happy if any stupid platitudes appear hereunder and I may choose to either ignore or retaliate. It'll depend on the weather.

To: Undisclosed Recipients. Subject: Notification of Consolation Prize Winning...

From: powerball_lottery_937@msn.com

lol...

POWERBALL LOTTO. BV
POWERBALL-WHEEL E-GAME 2006

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Congratulations once again from all our staffs on your consolation prize winning, we hope you will partake in our forth coming Powerball Lotto-Wheel Email-games.

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(Lottery Coordinator)


How tempted am I to ring these people up and just abuse the shit out of them?

Pretty fucking tempted.

Phew it's hot.

Tomorrow, Sunday, Melbourne will have the rather dubious honour to be the hottest state capital in Australia.

I mean, Melbourne is always hot for the right reasons. Tomorrow it's just plain hot. 43 Celcius - about 107 American.

The media would have us get all panicked and unsteady about Bird Flu H5N1 looking 1337 but meaning nothing. People die in heat like that. Hospital emergency rooms flood with sunburn victims and heat stroke victims and all sorts of other nasty ailments generally caused by remaining too long in an oven.

I'm talking hot.

The roads are going to melt. It's fry an egg on the roof of the car type weather. It's power grid shut-down due to the massive employment of air conditioners that's going to happen.

I remember going to the movies last time it was that hot. Even in the cinema it was hot and uncomfortable. It wasn't 43 but when you can't get up to find a breeze anywhere, who cares how hot it is or isn't. It's just blurtishly hot.

Why Melbourne of all places in this vast country?

We're southern, we're not supposed to get the sort of weather they usually get in Alice Springs - which deserves it. 40+ degree heat in Alice Springs is nature's way of telling people they shouldn't be living there in the first place. But Melbourne is beach front property. It's half way between the equator and the south pole. It's just not supposed to get that bloody hot.

Adelaide made the news today for having just endured its hottest spell for 65 years. They're in for another torrid day tomorrow with the mercury set to reach 40. Not as hot as us - and they're closer to the equator than we are.

Wtf is up with that?

I don't have to work tomorrow. There's no air conditioning there either. We sort of rely on a door open at the back to let the breeze through. It does work, but when that breeze is hot enough to roast a chicken, as it will be tomorrow, who in their right minds would subject themselves to it for something as intrinsically worthless as money?

I don't think I would work tomorrow if I turned up anyway. I don't think I'd work at all if I set foot outside the front door and into the unsanitised atmosphere, devoid of its murderous heat. If the power goes off tomorrow, I'm running a bath. A cold bath. I'll take a notepad and pens in with me and forget there's an inside out oven outside the walls and pen something poignant.

Something like "The swans drifted by the moss covered rocks at the side of the pond. They looked serene and unaffected. They wouldn't change for a while yet, they'd been boiled alive in the pond and hadn't yet begun to decay. Autoclaved swans tend to hold their form for 3 or 4 days. Did I mention it was hot? Fucking hot."

On a map of Australia, tomorrow at least, Tasmania looks like a very attractive place. In all honesty it is - except for those two headed people who live there. I liked Hitchhiker's Guide, but 300,000 real life Zaphods aren't exactly high on my list of things to see before I die.

If it weren't for the fact half the population of Melbourne would be out walking their stupid pets until 3 in the morning tonight, it would be an absolutely marvellous thing to walk around the darkened streets stark bollock naked. Or just to be outside and unclad. This weather is too hot even for mozzies. They all found refreshingly cool bits of water in which to lay their eggs, stayed too long and burned to death like lobsters in restaurant pots. Good.

I'd really do that... be outside starkers, but there are enough people already who think I'm weird and dangerous enough online without having half a suburb telling everyone else I'm a crazed freak irl as well. (Besides which, I have views about my views. There are some things I don't share with just anyone.)

When Andrew from Canada was here, he was planting trees. The news today advised that half of the eastern areas of Victoria have burned out in a bushfire or three. Probably started by the thunderstorms that went through yesterday, but it wouldn't surprise me if those trees just spontaneously combusted. And it's going to be 10 degrees hotter tomorrow than it was today and today bordered on the unbearable.

I hope he's not still stuck in some desert shithole in South Australia. I mean, this heat is killer heat. I'm serious, people die in that kind of heat if they don't take measures to protect themselves from it. If you're in the middle of nowhere in this country, the only way to escape the heat is to bury yourself in the sand and keep the sun off your head as best you can - and consume 48 litres of water an hour.

So much for all his good work, and that of those who are with him.

Hey Andrew, COME BACK!

Still love the kids on the other side. (Just so you know.)

The other side again

I was just having a conversation with one of the kids from the other side and it got me thinking about my 4 big heroes in life: Patch Adams, John Holt, Chris Locke and my little brother.

The first 3 all hold the same basic tenets as I have regarding human interaction. My 4th hero, my little brother, showed me life itself. He showed me strength, he showed me unconditional love and trust and he showed me how to find peace where nobody else could.

He knew he was dying and in the latter stages of his life, when most of what the rest of us take for granted became irrelevant to him, it was what was important to him that made me realise we don't get strength from anything except ourselves and the strength within is nourished or starved by our interactions with others - but only by our choice to allow that nourishment or starvation.

He wasn't just this world to me, he was a whole different world.

Oh no.

I am unwell.

I have a rotten headache, I'm going to throw up very shortly and I have to work tomorrow.

This is going to last a week and I'm going to hate planet earth for the duration.

Expect no replies.

Anywhere.

RatBlog

http://www.krugle.net/wordpress/?p=17

Thanks for the heads up, Chris.

ChatRat

Stupid bastards...

...are still pissing me off.

Around the corner from where I'm currently vocationally engaged, there is a Peugeot service centre. (Yes, that's how we spell that word here.)

Anyway, the apprentice is the workshop gopher. The others traipse in every couple of days or so as well, and they are without doubt the dumbest hoard of steaming social misfits who haven't been discovered by mental health professionals and locked away in some cellar somewhere.

I've told yon apprentice how much it bugs me that he's the one they pick to go and get all the lunches. He says it doesn't bother him so I just keep the conversation away from the topic that gets my blood a tad intemperate.

Filthy bullying suckholes, I'd piss in their drinks if I could get away with it but I can't, so I smile and talk nicely to them whilst thinking of all the terrible things I could do if given free reign to do so. It should, however, be noted that I'm not a violent person by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm mischievous as hell and anyone who's known me more than 5 minutes will agree.

But who is going to end this cycle of bullshit behaviour towards the young and ambitious? It's not a rite of passage, it's the personal insecurity of bullies ganging up on the defenceless and it has been exactly the same for centuries. I refuse point blank to hear any poxy argument that this sort of treatment toughens people up and makes them stronger in the long run - that's just fucking bullshit.

It wrecks a person's self esteem and turns them into nervous wrecks who then have to struggle just to get an even footing in the world. Toughens a person up - my foot. Victims of bullies way too often end up killing themselves in despair.

Is this a personal bugbear with me? After my imprisonment at Haileybury College for 5 semesters, I'm proud to say my fucking oath it's a bugbear with me. A major one at that. And what makes that place such a nightmare memory is the fact it wasn't the kids with whom I had issues there, it was the staff who were engaged in "character building" practices. Fucking dinosaurs. I'll piss on their graves if I ever see them.

It's impressive holding grudges like that for more than 20 years I think. And isn't it odd how little things evoke such powerful memories.

So it's been a week already. Get over it.

Two things I have a yen to do - and that better not be a doco on the goggle box or I'm not even going to get this done for another hour...

*sigh* I'm addicted to documentaries - especially BBC or Ken Burns documentaries.

First things first, this week, a young guy did an interview with Chris Locke. It was superbly subtle (on RB's part) and if anyone reading it paid really close attention to what Chris said, it was also the quintessential guide to the philosophy of blogging. Yes, it surpasses the ability of the English language to adequately impart the wisdom of his replies.

Replies to questions which, frankly, left me cold. But anyway, I sought immediately to redress the balance by doing to RB what he did to Mr Ed. If he can do it, so the hell can I. Out of due deference though, I would actually make an all in seriousness disclaimer that RB did in fact have nothing whatsoever to do with the interview, that it was all me and my idea and it was done without his permission, approval or sanction.

It also occurred to me that if Chris was not happy about it, I would invite him sue me. This would do both of us a world of good. I'm just dying to be sued - and so is he - for things we've written, and it strikes me as eminently amusing that he might sue me for something I might write. I mean, can you imagine it?

The headlines belch forth:

Rageboy sues Australian blogger.

Colorado: Internet guru and author of Gonzo Marketing, Winning Through Worst Practices, Christopher Locke is suing an Australian blogger for using the name Rageboy in an unauthorised article, which Locke has trademarked.

Apparently a Rageboy devotee, Australian Paul Ritchie has taken the title of Locke's second book to heart and is enjoying the notoriety provided by the publication of details of the court case, which isn't doing Locke's hit ranking any harm either.

One could almost believe they cooked this up between them.

When asked by a reporter why he did it, Ritchie simply replied he wants to have a threesome with Locke and Judge Judy and this was the best way he could think of to achieve those ends.


Back to reality and something else which requires a bit of effort on my part - and that is to get some sort of humourous story going - using only the lyrics of songs as the contents of the story. I've done similar things in the past - indeed my first effort was substituting teachers' names for real things in a story I wrote for my school magazine when I was 14 years old.

I'm going to enlist the help of others for this though... my vision as far as music is concerned is fairly narrow. I get hooked on songs and listen to them over and over again instead of just letting things flow and picking up on new stuff I might like, thus broadening my music horizons. The kids have helped a bit by sending me stuff. Cartoon Heroes was a classic. I still think that song is funny as hell and more camp than a Petshop Boys anthology.


There are some other rather amusing things - amusing to me, so that automatically means they're amusing to all of you as well and if they're not, I don't care anyway - rolling around in my head like loose marbles and one of those involves the time difference between waking up and getting out of bed. I'll leave all that to your fertile imaginations.

If you have no idea of what I'm circumlocuting, my advice is to just get fucked.

See? It's more fun to be a bastard.

ChatRat

Sanctimonious twats of all persuasions piss me off no end.

I ditched a few of the dullest msn groups it's ever been my experience to have umm experienced. Plus one run by an irritant who has taken a dislike to me because of a spat we had in a football forum.

As everyone knows, I swear quite a bit. So does he. I left a brilliant swipe at one sanctimonious twat and dropped the f word a couple of times. My message was deleted and I was told to drop the swearing or leave the group.

I left.

Piss on him.

It's the second time I've done that to him too. Different groups but it's not going to happen again. To hell with that. I don't invite people to my place if I don't like what they say or how they behave, he's known me for 5 years, knows my temper and all that. Why invite me only to remove what I say? Fuckwit. Bye bye. Have a nice life.

A few of the kids have started leaving wraps of their 2005. I was going to do one here but, frankly, I can't be bothered.

I got another funny email from Rageboy the other day too. Funny as in funny haha. He asked my opinion of something he'd written. I told him he's asking the wrong person, that I'd crawl naked over hot coals to hear the sound of him pissing in a jam tin. His reply was that he'd go and get himself a jam tin.

lol...

I can't wait until that book is finished. I SO badly want to buy several copies and distribute them amongst a hoard of fundy imbeciles with that expression of delighted ignorance and innocence which I'm so skilled at displaying.

I wonder if Hank will in fact come to Australia now that I've made the suggestion. I sure hope he does. I have a feeling there would be much laughter coming from our meeting.

It's late again. I always leave it too late to do this updating thing. I have to get sleep for I am working tomorrow. Short day, but I still have to get up early. Bummer.

On mixed blessings...

I finally got another edition of The Swamp out tonight.

After 4 months of neglecting my faithful Swampees, I have finally rewarded their faith with a tale of mixed blessings that constitute the unlikely events which just happen to be the reality I live on a daily basis.

I was going to put it here but thought better of it. If you're already a subscriber, you'll understand why it is better left unadorning of the world wide timetrap, in favour of the discretion of those voluptuous in boxes of those beloved subscribers where it is less likely to come back and bite me on the arse.

:)

The oddest thing about the one I've just put out is that 99% of it is absolutely true.

I feel uber. I feel like I could just keep writing until my fingers explode. What a shame it's half past midnight and I have to get up in 6 hours and go to work.

Is this yet another case of mixed blessings?

It seems that way to me.

http://www.Break.com/articles/holditin2.html

The second funniest thing I've seen in my life. I would dearly love to get the mpeg of this.

In other news, mes amies have been in full flight this weekend, thereby protecting me from the abhorence of Christmas. The day was further enhanced by my putting the old Pretenders song 2000 Miles on repeat and just listening to it over and over.

I'll confess here, I got quite soft and started leaving nice messages around the internet, and I even apologised to someone for sending them a rude reply to an email they sent me in good faith.

But have no doubts on one thing: I'm still the same old Rat you all know and treat with a great deal of suspicion if not actual trepidation.

I haven't managed to do one solitary jot of actual work since September. Aren't you all terribly ashamed? I'm not. I've been busy doing other stuff that doesn't in any way advance my social standing but which still makes me feel pretty good anyway.

I have been working - rather long hours as it happens - just not on anything that is strictly for my own benefit. Slack I know, but let's face it, I'm the one who's going to suffer most because of it. The rest of you have archives and older material which I bet not one of you has bothered exploring yet.

As for the first book, although I haven't finished retyping it (I told you, I've been incredibly slack), I have given it its new dustjacket and last week I gave the beneficiary of the would-be largess to spring therefrom the link to where said largess will emanate.

Still, it's not fair that I just sit on my laurels and expect to be kept afloat by the generosity of strangers. I will get the 2nd book out and put lots of loveliness in it, mixed with some philosophical nuggets which might just give it some credibility with the denizens of stupid little plastic boxes festooning every CBD on the planet. I might actually do some research and out a few of the bigger fuckwits and perhaps land myself in court as a result. (Oh I wish.) Thank God Australian courts have no jurisdiction in California.

I had a very enjoyable and fairly lengthy discourse with RB last week. I can't remember if I gloated about that in my last entry or not, but I'm gloating about it again now anyway. I worship that man.

I have decided I need to make 3 investments: A digital camera, a scanner and a personal voice recorder - and not necessarily in that order. Why?

I'm glad I asked myself that very question on your behalf.

The camera because I want to photograph Melbourne in all its glory because no brochures or spamful websites put up the sorts of pictures that make Melbourne what it is. I wish to remedy that situation so anyone with a lazy few thousand dollars will flock to my hometown and say hi.

I want the scanner because I have photos I want to get on the internet - via Photoshop of course - to make a mockery of all things in print which would otherwise not see the oncoming headlights of the traffic on the information super highway.

I want the voice recorder for purposes of my own devising which I'm not about to divulge here, but I may publish the results from its usage at a later date. Obviously, since I don't have thing to do any transcriptions now, I have time to organise the occasion for best impact. It will involve pleasant company and getting very chemically imbalanced. Hopefully I won't kiss anyone with whom I would still wish to be on good terms the following day. (I do that sort of thing when I've been tipping the scales as it were.)

It's been a long time since I indulged in anything not sold legally to minors. This means my tolerance levels will be pretty well zero. And you know what that means, boys and girls. It's way fast and easy to get the Rat off his face. And when that happens, anything else humanly possible and undesirable is more than likely to happen afterwards. This is why I want a voice recorder thingy - to capture the glory of the moment in full surround sound stereo which can then be transcribed and flung to the ends of the earth for general consumption. It's an occasion not to be missed.

Did I happen to mention the kids again? I know I did, I just disguised with a bit of verbal dexterity more commonly known as French. I think over the course of this weekend, I've spent a cumulative total of 14 hours with them plus however much longer than that with message swapping. What a totally massive bunch of people. They and that song - for the first time in 6 years - actually made Christmas 2005 an enjoyable day for me.

I am so me I can't believe it.

I got an email...



Oh the possibilities!

I'm sometimes drawn on whether I get enough spam or not. Some of it can be fairly entertaining and let's face it, with a few clicks it's all gone. Inboxes are fucking enormous so it's not likely any one of mine will ever fill up unless people start sending me massive attachments, which a lot of the time I won't even bother downloading. I'm on dial-up for two reasons: It's dirt cheap and there is only so much I want to do when I'm on the net and downloading shitloads of other people's stuff isn't one of them.

On the other hand, none of the spam I get is of a questionable sexual nature - none of it is of a sexual nature at all if you don't count viagra spam. Most of it emanates from Russia because of some online wargame thing to which one of the kids got me to sub up. The rest is spamming me about dodgy Rolex watches and other shit.

But as I said, clickery gone, no biggy.

One of the other kids had the most extraordinarily kind thing to say...

Mad props to the Rat. We're lucky to have you around.

Oh my brother. Would that he were here to say the same thing.

I got one of the other kids to admit to something too. It was like drawing teeth but it had to be done for his sake. It's part of dismantling some unhealthy and unhelpful trains of thought. I hope he feels much better for it, but self esteem is a hard bugger to rebuild when it's been dealt so many blows. Then again, I enjoy spending 5 hours in one sitting talking to any and all of them anyway so I guess the privilege was all mine. If you're reading this, Chris, I meant what you said and if it weren't for the bloody time difference between here and Texas, I'd spend more than 5 hours with you.

The one kid about whom I'm most concerned hasn't been around for a couple of weeks. If I had to pick just one of the kids to hug, it would be her. She needs it so desperately. I hope she's ok, but I have a growing idea she may be in hospital and I have no way of finding out. I suppose if I trawled the net long enough I might pick up some clues, but that just feels wrong on too many levels - especially on account of her being unable to trust anyone. She might take it the wrong way. She might also leap to some incorrect conclusions and that would be disastrous.

Tart's got a new picture. God, she's a beautiful woman. She makes me proud to know her. By pure coincidence, she got our relationship worked out just right first go without any prompting from me - and unlike that fuckwit, dopey, she's earned the right to consider me her net-brother and doesn't mind that I consider her my net-sister.

When dopey sent me an email telling me she considered me like her little brother, my gag reflex almost killed me. It was about that time I told her unequivocally to fuck off. It took her weeks to realise I meant it.

She left a message for Bong in Philochat2 this morning too. So I made Bong a manager so he can delete the message or delete the comm - whatever he wants. I can't be bothered talking to him anymore. There's no point when he's not stable, can't make head nor tail of what he's saying when Veil has convinced him not to take his meds, and frankly, I just couldn't be bothered taking the chance. Nor do I give a cusper's about Philochat2 so if he wipes it, too bad.

Some interesting developments in the MB story but I'm bidden not to reveal them by the author. Personally. Woo! The MB is a link by the way and it should have clickage upon it. Failing the interloping of any other book which might happen to pass under my nose and beckon my purchase, MB will be my next book purchase. I can't think of a time I was more excited about the production of a book like this - not even my own. Without exaggerating, to me, it's stand on the chair and cheer like they do in corny B grade college movies material. It's flipping one massive bird at everyone who ever harboured some hokey notions about herbal remedies and ancient recipes for happiness and wealth etc. I love Chris Locke and everything he says. I only wish I could write as well as he does. Maybe some day I'll apply myself to the task of producing something wicked. Until then, I'll just be satisfied pumping the air like an idiot every time I turn the pages of his books.

My playlist is the most inspiring lump of music in the universe. The drumming in the OMD song "Maid of Orleans" is phenomenal. Seriously. If I could fly, that's what I'd listen to while doing it. Maybe I'll come back as a hawk in the next life. I should be so lucky.

No matter, really. When I have those kids on the other side saying things like Mad props to the Rat, I don't even feel like I need to eat to stay alive - which is fortunate really, because eating is a nuisance and I fairly frequently forget to do it until it's too late at night to bother. Speaking of which, it's 1.34am here in beautiful Melbourne and I have to get up and go to work in 5 hours.

Plans are afoot to make some extra dosh between Christmas and New Year though, so we'll just see how it all pans out. After New Year, George has plans of his own which might just make all things more comfortable in Casa Highett. More on that later, but for now, it's bed time.

Toodle pip.

Continuation of that bit I threw up in PA this week, I'm going to kill my subscription to Oxfam. Getting that picture in the mail was the end of it for me. Really.

I don't know how I could have been more specific when I said I don't want to know anything at all about the people I sponsored. I just didn't and don't want to know. I can't explain it, but it's more than I can handle.

Fuckers.

I'm getting very emotional about this. I did NOT want ANYTHING at all to do with anything or anyone to whom I was making this anonymous donation. What do I get instead? A shitload of... shit. It's just shit. Gratitude is shit.

It fucking sucks. Charity sucks. I knew it when I signed on, but to have it come back and bite me on the arse like this - and pay for the damn privilege? Fuck that.

All I wanted was to help a poor Cambodian family, completely anonymously and relieve them of any need to feel gratitude (guilt, basically) for putting up their hands asking for help then actually getting it. The idea is to make the most of what you get with no thought for anything but your own future. That's about the best gift I can give and that's of what I was thinking when I started my subscription.

What the fuck are these people on anyway? Oxfam, I mean. Can you tell I'm a bit fucked off right now? How dare they fuck up my gift. Maybe not for whomever is on the receiving end, but my trust in Oxfam has been royally fucked in the arse. I know it's just a procedural thing to send these stinking updates to keep it all warm and fuzzy and make the donors think what they're doing is so wonderfully worthwhile.

I'm sure it is, but what does that make me? Just another name on some mailing list somewhere.

Now I want to run and hide away from these felching scumbags so they never find me again, never send me their stupid begging letters and load me up with guilt for something I haven't done.

My kids on the other side mean more to me than anyone else right now. I keep going on about them, but only because I love them all so much. Am I grateful for the time they accord me? In a way, yes. I'm probably more proud than grateful. I'm certainly amazed they let me in there. It's a fairly tight little circle but they're so incredibly acceptant and generous with their time and themselves. I consider myself very lucky to have encountered them.

It's what they give me which has the big impact. They give me the opportunity to share myself with them and they allow me the opportunity to share their day to day lives as well. It's extremely selfish of me to even be there, I know that. I have the unfair advantage of 20 years worth of experience which they do not yet have. I'm aware of that - always. On the other hand, because I consider them equals - which is to say, as human beings - and I won't behave condescendingly towards them because condescension is right up there with the most despicable things adults do to kids, that not only can I share with them and they with me, but at times I have the opportunity to share the benefits of the experience I have which they do not.

They actually let me care about them. That's incalculable to me. I know I sound like a broken record for saying it yet again, but how I can I compare anything I have with the gift those kids continue to give me?

Gratitude? Fuck gratitude. How about respect, how about trust, and, for what it's worth, not just a modicum of affection. Yes, that's why I love them all so much.

I did a terrible thing on the train on the way home from work tonight.

Terrible or typical? You be the judge.

Melbourne has a free daily newspaper called MX. In it is a puzzle page which contains a few word game thingies and a crossword - amongst other stuff I tend to ignore.

Anyway, a fat bastard had his backpack on the seat next to him instead of on the floor, thus he was depriving one of those forced to stand of a seat on the train.

Enter the Rat.

Rat spots fat bastard reading the puzzle page. Rat further spots fat bastard having copious quantities of difficulty with the crossword.
Rat is a wordsmith with an enviable vocabulary and usually finishes the crossword in 15 minutes.

Rat also has a copy of MX. Rat stands close to fat bastard, close enough to allow fat bastard to hear Rat's stomach grumble. Rat ostensibly ignores fat bastard.

Rat turns to the puzzle page, pulls his pen from his backpack and reads 3 across: Make eyes at, 4 letters. Except Rat reads aloud, and announces the answer as OGLE, 4 down: Dirt, 5 letters. Hmm, "Grime" says Rat, aloud.

"9 across: Liquid measure, 4 letters. Oh, pint!" says Rat.

Fat bastard gets off train at the next stop and goes to the next carriage down.

Rat and one other person sit.

Rat turns to fellow seated person and says, "Well that was easy!"

God, I love being me.