I have about as much credibility as John Edward.
I know. I tipped a NSW win by 10 points and we got done. The thing that keeps me sane is that... even as a supporter of the losing team... I can still say that was better than a bloody soccer match.
Queensland were deserved winners. No complaints from me.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Go the mighty Blues!
Gibbos tip: NSW to win tonight by about 10 points.
Either way, much frivolity and amber fluid will be enjoyed at the Casa del Gibbo.
Either way, much frivolity and amber fluid will be enjoyed at the Casa del Gibbo.
North Koreans have No Dong
Yeah I know it's corny... but I laughed.
North Korea have apparently test fired six missiles today including the short range "NoDong" and the long range "Taepodong 2". That is, if you count a 40 second flight as long range!
The Taepodong 2 is reported to be able to reach the U.S. or Australia... if we can get either of those countries within 40 seconds flying time of North Korea.
The NoDong is reported to make your willy fall off upon detonation.
North Korea have apparently test fired six missiles today including the short range "NoDong" and the long range "Taepodong 2". That is, if you count a 40 second flight as long range!
The Taepodong 2 is reported to be able to reach the U.S. or Australia... if we can get either of those countries within 40 seconds flying time of North Korea.
The NoDong is reported to make your willy fall off upon detonation.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Wheels fall off bandwagon!
Oh well, stiff shit!
We can all go back to being ignorant bastards regarding soccer again now that the Aussies have been beaten in the second round. I'm not a huge fan of the soccer so I didn't watch the game but I saw that penalty on the morning news and it did seem a bit soft. The "dive" is an area of soccer that really needs to be addressed. It's downright embarassing. I watched the Brisbane vs Melbourne rugby league match on the weekend. Sam Thaiday copped a full-blast forearm to the face and still got up and played the ball. Now that's a game!
It has been a genuine achievement to get as far as we did but I get the shits with all the folks who suddenly became soccer experts the minute the tournament started. It's nearly as bad as the bloody Melbourne Cup! Suddenly every bastard is a "fine judge of horseflesh" and starts speaking like Johnny Tapp.
We can all go back to being ignorant bastards regarding soccer again now that the Aussies have been beaten in the second round. I'm not a huge fan of the soccer so I didn't watch the game but I saw that penalty on the morning news and it did seem a bit soft. The "dive" is an area of soccer that really needs to be addressed. It's downright embarassing. I watched the Brisbane vs Melbourne rugby league match on the weekend. Sam Thaiday copped a full-blast forearm to the face and still got up and played the ball. Now that's a game!
It has been a genuine achievement to get as far as we did but I get the shits with all the folks who suddenly became soccer experts the minute the tournament started. It's nearly as bad as the bloody Melbourne Cup! Suddenly every bastard is a "fine judge of horseflesh" and starts speaking like Johnny Tapp.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Brian Smith Gone!
Parramatta's year of woes continues today with the resignation of coach Brian Smith. Reportedly two players turned up drunk to training this week and had to be sent home. Love him or hate him, I wouldn't be happy with the effort being shown by our players lately. This is a professional sport which demands professional behaviour and turning up to training pissed does not cut it.
My mail is that this has been happening a lot and Tim Smith's name seems to get mentioned as one of the main offenders. Apparently since he signed on for the next few years, his head has grown three sizes and he hasn't spent much time out of the pub. He is consequently playing like a busted arse!
Coach Smith's time had come but he should have been shown the courtesy of an honourable exit. The players need to take a good hard look at the absolute lack of effort that they have been putting in lately and start taking some pride in their work. It's been too easy to blame the coach. Now that the excuse has been removed, we need to see some pride and some effort.
Hopefully Jason Taylor, the interim coach, can send a rocket up a few backsides and stop the embarrassment.
My mail is that this has been happening a lot and Tim Smith's name seems to get mentioned as one of the main offenders. Apparently since he signed on for the next few years, his head has grown three sizes and he hasn't spent much time out of the pub. He is consequently playing like a busted arse!
Coach Smith's time had come but he should have been shown the courtesy of an honourable exit. The players need to take a good hard look at the absolute lack of effort that they have been putting in lately and start taking some pride in their work. It's been too easy to blame the coach. Now that the excuse has been removed, we need to see some pride and some effort.
Hopefully Jason Taylor, the interim coach, can send a rocket up a few backsides and stop the embarrassment.
Friday, May 12, 2006
How To Star In The Opera
Here is another wonderful contribution from the warped mind of occasional guest writer Stix. Some people have asked me whether Sticko's stories are fact or fiction. The answer is... both, I think!
HOW TO STAR IN THE OPERA
My advice to you, if you ever win your audition to play the part of a corpse in an opera, is:
Ask questions. Here are some that I would suggest:
1. Does the plot call for the corpse to get shoved halfway off a bed head-first by people shrieking in Italian?
2. If so, will this corpse be wearing a nightgown-style garment which could easily get bunched up around the corpse's head if the corpse finds itself in an inverted ``spear-tackle'' kind of position - with its legs sticking up in the air on a brightly-lit stage in front of hundreds of strangers the corpse has never met?
3. If so, what, if any, provisions will be made to prevent a public viewing of the corpse's dangly bits? Fool that I am, I failed to ask these questions when I was offered the role of a deceased person in an opera during a break from singing for the Top Dogs.
After my audition for the Australian Opera, I received a lovely rejection call from Gibbo, the general manager, informing me that my singing was probably more suited to scaring birds away from crops in the Riverina, but nevertheless holding out an olive branch of hope for my long-held ambition to perform live at the Sydney Opera House. Gibbo said my skills may well be tailor-made to play the role of a dead politician in an upcoming production of Village of the Damned.
He sounded enthusiastic on the phone, saying my skin texture, pock marks and natural pallor were perfect for the part. Then Gibbo invited me to a full dress rehearsal. I was so excited I farted loudly, right there in the echoing hallway, desperately covering the mouthpiece in the prayer that my faux pas had not been audible through the phone.
Village of the Damned is a rarely performed piece by Giacomo del Franchi, which tells the story about a tiny township in which a shadowy demon presence is gradually taking possession of all the adults, leaving the children to run the local council and the RSL Club's chook raffles ALL ALONE. The first to be subjugated is the local Mayor who dies from the experience. For the rest of the opera he lays on a pew in the council chambers, occasionally being pushed and prodded by villagers looking for the priceless gold-and-gem-encrusted mayoral chain.
Rehearsal turned out to be very professional, featuring baritones, sopranos, bassoons, glissandos, orangutans, and much more. During the practice session, the singing members of the cast took turns in thrusting me off the pew and intoning invaluable dramatic advice about professional corpse-playing (''Keep still'' and "Don't twitch''). They also laughed just a little too loudly as I repeatedly crashed to the wooden stage floor, often coming to rest in the most undignified positions. But, as a professional performer, I stayed in character.
During del Franchi's epic piece, a mob of villagers sing very loudly in Italian for 45 minutes of opera time, which, for your average football fan, equals roughly an entire State of Origin series. I spent most of this time lying perfectly still on the bed with my mouth open. This turned out to be rather difficult. When you have to hold perfectly still in front of hundreds of people, you become a seething mass of primitive bodily needs. You develop overpowering urges to gulp, itch, scratch, burp, roll over on the other cheek and -- above all - to lick your lips. "LICK YOUR LIPS RIGHT NOW!'' is the urgent message your brain repeatedly sends to your tongue. You find yourself abandoning all concerns about personal hygiene and praying that del Franchi was thoughtful enough to include a part in Village of the Damned where the villagers decide, for whatever reason, to lick the dead mayor's lips.
But this is not what happens. What happens is that the singers, while searching for the Mayor's golden, jewel-studded chain of office, shove the corpse off the pew, the result being that I had to hold perfectly still while upside-down, with my face smushed into a low footstool and my legs in the air, through several arias, which had more verses than "American Pie''. Fortunately, under my shroud I was wearing flesh-coloured lycra bicycle pants, so the audience was never directly exposed to anything more shocking than a few wads of unsightly cellulite, which meant that a dangerous stampede for the exits was avoided.
Finally, the singers put the bruised and embarrassed "corpse'' back up on its pew, so for the rest of the show I could just lie there thinking about the footy and the Top Doggies and whether Mark Gasnier would be a turncoat and sign with the ARU. At times I also listened to the music, and I have to confess here that, although I am by no means an opera tragic, I was deeply moved by one part, when a stage roadie named Zack Flack crept up behind my pew, unseen by the enthralled audience, and whispered, ''Parramatta 21, Bulldogs 8.''
That made it all worthwhile...
Monday, May 08, 2006
Richard Carleton
I was always taught that if you couldn't say something nice about someone then say nothing.
Richard Carleton died yesterday...
Richard Carleton died yesterday...
Thursday, March 30, 2006
The Salary Cap
I see that the Rugby Leagues clubs are arguing with the players(again) about raising the salary cap. With all of the rorting that has occurred in the past few years I think it might be time to make some major changes to the way it works or just plain ditch it.
If it does need to stay then what I would like to see is greater discounts given to players who stay at a club for a decent length of time. One of the most heard complaints about modern League is the influence of the large amount money that is available to players and that there seems to be little loyalty to any one particular club. By offering much larger discounts against the salary cap for long term "loyal" players might ease some of this criticism and allow players to get a decent rate of pay without resorting to "the dreaded paper bag under the table".
Just as a side issue... to all those who think Rugby League was better in the old days before all that stinking cash got involved, "the old days" are still available at your local footy oval every weekend. Get your arse down to see and support your local team, you won't regret it.
If it does need to stay then what I would like to see is greater discounts given to players who stay at a club for a decent length of time. One of the most heard complaints about modern League is the influence of the large amount money that is available to players and that there seems to be little loyalty to any one particular club. By offering much larger discounts against the salary cap for long term "loyal" players might ease some of this criticism and allow players to get a decent rate of pay without resorting to "the dreaded paper bag under the table".
Just as a side issue... to all those who think Rugby League was better in the old days before all that stinking cash got involved, "the old days" are still available at your local footy oval every weekend. Get your arse down to see and support your local team, you won't regret it.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Gary Glitter
Good old Gary Glitter has been in the news again lately for all the wrong reasons. It brought to mind a story my brother told me which was told to him by the one and only Peter Ward. I hope I do the story justice.
Peter was working with Gary Glitter during one of his comeback tours. After one show about half way through the tour, Gary called a meeting of the band an crew to inform them that the rest of the tour was to be cancelled. Now, quite naturally, everyone was a bit shocked at this news and were keen to know what had happened.
Gary went on to inform them that during that nights performance he had "left his body" and had floated out amongst the crowd and had, for the first time ever, seen himself perform. What he had seen though had not made him happy. He had seen himself as a silly old bastard who was too old for cavorting about the stage singing glam music. All he could see was a bloke who was well past his prime and was being laughed at. His career was over!
You can imagine the atmosphere in that meeting. It was quite sombre and you could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was worried about getting sacked half way through the tour and Gary was worried about being an embarrasing old fool. Most of them were sitting around, heads down, contemplating this terrible news.
Just then the sax player pipes up and asks:
"Gary?"
"Yes"
"You know...when you left your body and floated out amongst the audience?"
"Yes"
"Well... how did my sax sound? Was it alright?"
At this point the room erupted into uncontrolled laughter, including Gary, and the tour was suddenly back on.
Cross posted on Gibbo's War Stories.
Peter was working with Gary Glitter during one of his comeback tours. After one show about half way through the tour, Gary called a meeting of the band an crew to inform them that the rest of the tour was to be cancelled. Now, quite naturally, everyone was a bit shocked at this news and were keen to know what had happened.
Gary went on to inform them that during that nights performance he had "left his body" and had floated out amongst the crowd and had, for the first time ever, seen himself perform. What he had seen though had not made him happy. He had seen himself as a silly old bastard who was too old for cavorting about the stage singing glam music. All he could see was a bloke who was well past his prime and was being laughed at. His career was over!
You can imagine the atmosphere in that meeting. It was quite sombre and you could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was worried about getting sacked half way through the tour and Gary was worried about being an embarrasing old fool. Most of them were sitting around, heads down, contemplating this terrible news.
Just then the sax player pipes up and asks:
"Gary?"
"Yes"
"You know...when you left your body and floated out amongst the audience?"
"Yes"
"Well... how did my sax sound? Was it alright?"
At this point the room erupted into uncontrolled laughter, including Gary, and the tour was suddenly back on.
Cross posted on Gibbo's War Stories.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Guts vs Balls
I got this via email today and got a chuckle out of it.
We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
Aussie definition for each is listed below...
GUTS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are
you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"
BALLS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the backside and saying, "You're next!"
Hope this clears up any confusion on the subject!
We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
Aussie definition for each is listed below...
GUTS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are
you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"
BALLS - arriving home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the backside and saying, "You're next!"
Hope this clears up any confusion on the subject!
Monday, February 06, 2006
OPC's (Other Peoples Children)
It's a far too infrequent occurence these days but Mrs Gibbo & I ended up in a nice little cafe in Kiama for breakfast on Sunday morning. What a wonderful situation to be in eh? Great company, great surroundings, great food, great view. Then in walks a couple with two small kids who proceed to argue over the menu and start a squealing contest. Just what you need for a relaxing breakfast, two squealing kids. Then a few more kids from up the back of the cafe start a game of chasings. Meanwhile the parents just seem oblivious to it all and to the effect their mongrel kids are having on the other patrons.
I'll tell it to ya straight folks, if you can't control your kids in public then leave the bastards at home! You stuff it for everyone including yourself. There should be a law that allows you to discipline other peoples children. They are obviously not getting it at home so I should be allowed to do it. You know, you are following some lady with 3 kids pushing a trolley in Woolworths, and all you hear is "Stop that Shardayshia. Get down off that Tarquin. Put those back Sharpelle." The whole time the kids are doing whatever they please. Crazy stuff folks! If you are going to bother to yell at Tarquin to get down then hows about MAKING Tarquin get down? If you don't care if he gets down then STOP YELLING AT HIM. Either way, sort it out. I don't know Tarquin from a bar of soap but I'll bet a weeks beer vouchers that I could make him get down!
Now I can hear a few people saying "C'mon Gibbo, surely your kids have played up in public?" and the answer to that is "Sure... once!"
Be warned all you people with naughty kids. Gibbo is watching old episodes of MacGyver in an effort to improve his improvised weapon building skills. Once I've managed to convert the salt and pepper shakers into a flame thrower you are all in the shit!
Gibbo WILL have relaxing Sunday breakfasts in peace in future. You have been warned.
I'll tell it to ya straight folks, if you can't control your kids in public then leave the bastards at home! You stuff it for everyone including yourself. There should be a law that allows you to discipline other peoples children. They are obviously not getting it at home so I should be allowed to do it. You know, you are following some lady with 3 kids pushing a trolley in Woolworths, and all you hear is "Stop that Shardayshia. Get down off that Tarquin. Put those back Sharpelle." The whole time the kids are doing whatever they please. Crazy stuff folks! If you are going to bother to yell at Tarquin to get down then hows about MAKING Tarquin get down? If you don't care if he gets down then STOP YELLING AT HIM. Either way, sort it out. I don't know Tarquin from a bar of soap but I'll bet a weeks beer vouchers that I could make him get down!
Now I can hear a few people saying "C'mon Gibbo, surely your kids have played up in public?" and the answer to that is "Sure... once!"
Be warned all you people with naughty kids. Gibbo is watching old episodes of MacGyver in an effort to improve his improvised weapon building skills. Once I've managed to convert the salt and pepper shakers into a flame thrower you are all in the shit!
Gibbo WILL have relaxing Sunday breakfasts in peace in future. You have been warned.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Latham Watch - bizarre behaviour noted!
Spotted Sunday afternoon at a certain gym in Campbelltown(just near a certain Hungry Jacks) was the one and only Marky Mark Latham. During the whole time I was there, there were no tantrums, nobody was assaulted and not one camera was smashed.
Bizarre behaviour indeed!
The bastard is up to something for sure.
Bizarre behaviour indeed!
The bastard is up to something for sure.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Australia Day
For the second year running we had the pleasure of spending Australia Day with a great bunch of folks over at the Patto's place. Shane & Jill put on a brilliant day, keeping us all entertained with a load of activities and sporting events as well as a great feed and a few(?) quiet ales.
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
The first activity was drinking beer, or softdrink for the kiddies, from a babies cup. Last year it was from a babies bottle but some cheating bastards bit big holes in the teats.
Jill scrutineering the skulling comp.
It's not a real Australia Day party unless it includes a bloke named Norm who drinks VB!
Australia Day isn't all sport y'know. We Aussies also like to exercise the brain sometimes too so a trivia competition was organised.
The trivia comp in full swing. Who was Australias 3rd Prime Minister anyway?
Of course it wouldn't be an authentic Aussie Day without a cricket match. Shane the curator went to a massive amount of effort inslashing preparing the pitch. Notice the nice boundary line made from the cut grass? Bloody top job.
And it wouldn't be an authentic cricket match without a streaker and a dog to interrupt play.
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
Life isn't all sport and trivia you know, sometimes you gotta take a few minutes out to shovel sausage sandwiches into your face.
Shane hard at work char grilling bits of ground up dead animal on the barbie. Just the way I like it!
After lunch it was straight back into the sporting activities. First cab off the rank was gumboot throwing. The Welsh contingent were strong all day leading to suspicions that they may have even trained on some of the events.
Clive showing the style that gave him the gumboot throwing title.
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
My favourite sporting activity was the "Aussie Race" in which you had to pull on a pair of boxer shorts & thongs then run to a tube of zinc cream, apply some to your nose, run to the next station where you had to apply tomato sauce to a pie and eat it before running to the final stop to skull some GI lime cordial. Tops!
The first heat begins.
Hows this for concentration folks? He managed to do the whole race without putting his iceblock down. An obvious star of the future here.
Kieran, the eventual winner, showing his style.
Yes Lee, you CAN look stylish with zinc all over your face!
Jake also likes to ride in the trailer.
Well, that's about it for Australia Day 2006. What a day! Thanks once again to our gracious hosts, Shane & Jill, and to all those who turned up and participated. I can't wait for next year.
Jake and Bree saying "bye-bye".
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
The first activity was drinking beer, or softdrink for the kiddies, from a babies cup. Last year it was from a babies bottle but some cheating bastards bit big holes in the teats.
Jill scrutineering the skulling comp.
It's not a real Australia Day party unless it includes a bloke named Norm who drinks VB!
Australia Day isn't all sport y'know. We Aussies also like to exercise the brain sometimes too so a trivia competition was organised.
The trivia comp in full swing. Who was Australias 3rd Prime Minister anyway?
Of course it wouldn't be an authentic Aussie Day without a cricket match. Shane the curator went to a massive amount of effort in
And it wouldn't be an authentic cricket match without a streaker and a dog to interrupt play.
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
Life isn't all sport and trivia you know, sometimes you gotta take a few minutes out to shovel sausage sandwiches into your face.
Shane hard at work char grilling bits of ground up dead animal on the barbie. Just the way I like it!
After lunch it was straight back into the sporting activities. First cab off the rank was gumboot throwing. The Welsh contingent were strong all day leading to suspicions that they may have even trained on some of the events.
Clive showing the style that gave him the gumboot throwing title.
Jake likes to drive the tractor.
My favourite sporting activity was the "Aussie Race" in which you had to pull on a pair of boxer shorts & thongs then run to a tube of zinc cream, apply some to your nose, run to the next station where you had to apply tomato sauce to a pie and eat it before running to the final stop to skull some GI lime cordial. Tops!
The first heat begins.
Hows this for concentration folks? He managed to do the whole race without putting his iceblock down. An obvious star of the future here.
Kieran, the eventual winner, showing his style.
Yes Lee, you CAN look stylish with zinc all over your face!
Jake also likes to ride in the trailer.
Well, that's about it for Australia Day 2006. What a day! Thanks once again to our gracious hosts, Shane & Jill, and to all those who turned up and participated. I can't wait for next year.
Jake and Bree saying "bye-bye".
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Chinese New Year with Neds Atomic Dustbin
I saw on the tele this morning that preparations are under way for our Chinese community to celebrate their New Year. It brought to mind a tour I did around this time of year back in the early 1990's. It was a short run with a British band by the name of Neds Atomic Dustbin.
They were quite a whacky bunch of dudes who seemed to take themselves far too seriously but overall they were alright. They are probably the only band I've ever seen with two bass players. That's right folks...two!
This was what was known as a "Yo-Yo" tour. It went Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne & back to Sydney. For those outside Australia this means doing a gig, travelling North for about 1000k's then going south for about 1800k's then going back north for about 800k's. Tops! Luckily time didn't permit us to do the Brisbane gig & so they flew up we drove to Melbourne. Our lighting rigger had some stuff to take care of so he decided to fly down and meet us in Melbourne. My brother and I arrived in Melbourne at about 4am after an uneventful drive down. The plan was to arrive early, get a decent sleep, do the gig, then have another decent sleep before casually driving back to Sydney for the last gig. Sometimes things don't go to plan but eh?
Upon arrival at the hotel we found the lighting rigger asleep in the foyer with his baggage. Not a good sign. We woke him and he told us that the tour manager hadn't paid the deposits for the room and they weren't going to let us in until someone paid up. Shit! We scrounged around between us and managed to come up with just enough cash for the guy to let us in with nothing to spare but $5, literally. He then gives us a message from the tour manager that one of the band has decided to drink his own weight in alcohol and has been taken to hospital. The gig has been pushed back to the following day so we can have a day off. Great! Here we are in a strange town with absolutely no money and we have a day and a half to kill. This wasn't going well at all.
By the time we hit our room it was about 6am so we did what you always do after driving for 10 hours and getting stuffed around, we hit the mini bar. Hard! We completely cleaned the thing out. By this time it was about 9am and we decided sleep would be a good idea. Not 3 minutes after my head hit the pillow I heard this strange noise start up from the street below. It grew in intensity until becoming very loud and seemed to be getting closer. The three of us looked at each other in amazment and went to the window to find an incredible scene below. It was the start of the Chinese New Year Parade. and it was right outside our window. They had drums and gongs and cymbals and dragons and fireworks and bloody everything. All going at once. It was just bedlam. Welcome to Melbourne folks!
I reckon I was just about ready to start throwing stuff out the window at that point. Instead we just gave up and went back to bed. I think I even went back to sleep at one point. We eventually caught up with the tour manager, the inimitable Howard Freeman, later that day to get some cash off him so we could eat.
The amazing Howard Freeman or HoWEIRD as he was known. Image from CX Magazine.
The gig went off okay the next day but we now had to pack up and drive straight back to Sydney after the gig. Overnighters were the pits. You'd think not much more could go wrong on such a short run wouldn't you? Not so. About halfway into our 10 hour drive, the truck decided to overheat every time we went over about 70kph. That made for a bloody slow trip folks. We arrived late but still with enough time to set up & do the gig. Just!
Man I was glad to shut the back of the truck and wave goodbye to that tour.
Cross posted at Gibbos War Stories
They were quite a whacky bunch of dudes who seemed to take themselves far too seriously but overall they were alright. They are probably the only band I've ever seen with two bass players. That's right folks...two!
This was what was known as a "Yo-Yo" tour. It went Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne & back to Sydney. For those outside Australia this means doing a gig, travelling North for about 1000k's then going south for about 1800k's then going back north for about 800k's. Tops! Luckily time didn't permit us to do the Brisbane gig & so they flew up we drove to Melbourne. Our lighting rigger had some stuff to take care of so he decided to fly down and meet us in Melbourne. My brother and I arrived in Melbourne at about 4am after an uneventful drive down. The plan was to arrive early, get a decent sleep, do the gig, then have another decent sleep before casually driving back to Sydney for the last gig. Sometimes things don't go to plan but eh?
Upon arrival at the hotel we found the lighting rigger asleep in the foyer with his baggage. Not a good sign. We woke him and he told us that the tour manager hadn't paid the deposits for the room and they weren't going to let us in until someone paid up. Shit! We scrounged around between us and managed to come up with just enough cash for the guy to let us in with nothing to spare but $5, literally. He then gives us a message from the tour manager that one of the band has decided to drink his own weight in alcohol and has been taken to hospital. The gig has been pushed back to the following day so we can have a day off. Great! Here we are in a strange town with absolutely no money and we have a day and a half to kill. This wasn't going well at all.
By the time we hit our room it was about 6am so we did what you always do after driving for 10 hours and getting stuffed around, we hit the mini bar. Hard! We completely cleaned the thing out. By this time it was about 9am and we decided sleep would be a good idea. Not 3 minutes after my head hit the pillow I heard this strange noise start up from the street below. It grew in intensity until becoming very loud and seemed to be getting closer. The three of us looked at each other in amazment and went to the window to find an incredible scene below. It was the start of the Chinese New Year Parade. and it was right outside our window. They had drums and gongs and cymbals and dragons and fireworks and bloody everything. All going at once. It was just bedlam. Welcome to Melbourne folks!
I reckon I was just about ready to start throwing stuff out the window at that point. Instead we just gave up and went back to bed. I think I even went back to sleep at one point. We eventually caught up with the tour manager, the inimitable Howard Freeman, later that day to get some cash off him so we could eat.
The amazing Howard Freeman or HoWEIRD as he was known. Image from CX Magazine.
The gig went off okay the next day but we now had to pack up and drive straight back to Sydney after the gig. Overnighters were the pits. You'd think not much more could go wrong on such a short run wouldn't you? Not so. About halfway into our 10 hour drive, the truck decided to overheat every time we went over about 70kph. That made for a bloody slow trip folks. We arrived late but still with enough time to set up & do the gig. Just!
Man I was glad to shut the back of the truck and wave goodbye to that tour.
Cross posted at Gibbos War Stories
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Testing Picassa
Hi folks. Just fiddling with my new camera and spotted an option in Picassa to send and image direct to my blog. So, here it is. Gibbo's youngest daughter holding one of my Christmas pressies. Meet Ellie-May the wondercat folks. Cute as a button eh? 
Friday, December 23, 2005
Merry Bloody Christmas!
Well, it's that time of year again when us public servants all wind down & take a little time off. I can't wait for the knock off bell actually!
In the spirit of the season I would like to leave you all with the following message (an oldy but a goody):
Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice( with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others or their choice not to practice such traditions at all).
* Furthermore, I offer my (non-binding) best wishes for the onset of the generally accepted calendar year of 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make Australia great. (Which is not to imply that Australia is greater than any other country.) These wishes are offered without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, choice of computer platform or sexual preference of the wishee.
* This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no others, is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish expires within one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first.
Have a great Christmas folks and we will see you all here bright and early in 2006.
Love and kisses, Gibbo.
In the spirit of the season I would like to leave you all with the following message (an oldy but a goody):
Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice( with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others or their choice not to practice such traditions at all).
* Furthermore, I offer my (non-binding) best wishes for the onset of the generally accepted calendar year of 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make Australia great. (Which is not to imply that Australia is greater than any other country.) These wishes are offered without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, choice of computer platform or sexual preference of the wishee.
* This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no others, is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish expires within one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first.
Have a great Christmas folks and we will see you all here bright and early in 2006.
Love and kisses, Gibbo.
Repost: Racism for dummies.
I wrote this last year around this time but it seems as relevant as ever these days. here it is again for your singing and dancing pleasure...
There has been great discussion recently regarding the topic of racism and, as Australians, our supposed predisposition toward it. It is a topic that is simply too complex to discuss back and forth in the comments section of someone’s blog, so I thought I would take a few moments to put my thoughts down in some sort of order.
To give you some context, I would like to explain a little about myself and my background. I am a fifth generation Australian (as far as I have traced so far), of basically British origins. I was born in 1962 and raised in Sydney’s Western Suburbs. Cabramatta, to be precise. That makes me a white male, 42years old and a westie. Prime racist material eh?
Cabramatta was then, and is now, a melting pot of many different races. We had wads of post-war immigrants of many different nationalities. I lived in a short cul-de-sac that had the migrant hostel at the bottom. The makeup of our street was roughly this: On our side it went Scottish, Russian, Italian, Aussies, Latvians, Serbs, Italians, Italians and Croatians. The other side went Italians, Italians, Italians, Serbs, Italians, Various, Aussies, Aussies, Ukrainians, Scots, Macedonians, and this was just my street. As you know, we then had a large influx of Asian refugees starting in the 70’s. In short, if you were racist, you didn’t have any friends. This community was remarkably harmonious. People just plain got along. Sure, there were people you didn’t like but it was usually something more substantial than their racial background. I will have more to say in a future post about why I think that this community was as successful as it was, but it serves to show you some of my background and why I get so upset when people say I am a racist because I am a white male or because I vote for John Howard. It is simply not true. It is a concept that I reject out of hand. This is not to say that Australians are not racist or that I have never been a racist. I am simply stating that we are no more racist than anyone else. I believe that all races use this “evil power” whenever it suits them.
It is not something that white people do to brown people. It is not something Aussies do to wogs. It is something people do to each other.
Let me explain it like this:
I support Parramatta in the football. I go along to games or watch ‘em on the TV and I get all worked up. When my team plays your team, I don’t like your team. Say we are playing against Newcastle, then that Andrew Johns is a mongrel bastard who must be stopped at all costs. Phoooey on him. Kick him in the nuts, pull his hair, whatever. Just beat them. But… when State of Origin time comes around, Andrew Johns no longer is a mongrel bastard who plays for Newcastle. He’s the bloody captain of NSW and a top bloke. Skillful, wiley, just a brilliant player. Great to see my man Nathan Hindmarsh in the same team as the great Andrew Johns. On the other hand, that Shane Webke is a prick eh? Bloody fridge on legs. I don’t like him at all! Smash him boys!!! Bloody Queenslander.
But… when the Aussie team gets picked to go and wallop the Poms, that bloody Webke. Top bloke! Never stops trying. Proud to have him in the side. Go Shane, smash those Poms.
That, my friends is exactly how racism works. It is all about the current perspective and what suits you at the time.
When it suits we are citizens of the world.
When it suits we are Aussies.
When it suits we are part of Asia.
When it suits we are of British descent.
When it suits we are ANZACS
When it suits we are a multicultural paradise.
I have never met a specific race or culture who is not capable of pulling out the race card whenever it suits. The problem is that it stifles genuine debate and the possibility of actually fixing some of our countries serious problems. If you shout down every argument that is not yours as racist, then you are not helping. Some examples of “Aussies inherent racism” were given to me at Darps’ blog today. One fellow said that he had never seen an Aboriginal married to a white person in Australia so therefore we must all be racist. Mate, I lived next door to an Aboriginal chap and his white wife for many years. It is not as uncommon as you think. Another person said that by my treating all races as equal, I was being ethnocentric and therefore was a racist. What the fuck? One person even said that I must be a racist because voted for “the right”. Just what we need mate, sensible debate.
I know it has become fashionable in some circles to be a self flagellator but don’t include me in your guilt trip. The we had the call for an "indigenous" blogger to come in and tell us once more how racist we are because only black people know. IE Black person says white person is racist. Ipso facto... white peole are racist. QED.
While we are talking about Aboriginals. Don’t think that they aren’t as bad as anyone else at this stuff. Many of the tribes are openly hostile to each other for no more reason than their “race” IE My tribe is better than yours. I have personally witnessed the unbelievable amount of diplomacy it takes to get some of these people to just be in the same room as each other, let along carry out a meaningful dialog. This is not a put-down. This just proves they are human like the rest of us. By segregating them into a sub-group of our society that is treated inherently different is racist beyond belief as just does not help. If every problem is looked at through the lens of “it must be whitey’s fault”, then you are missing many opportunities to fix things.
If someone in this country is living in sub-human conditions due to genuine neglect then that is a tragedy and should be fixed. The problem is not a worse one because the victim is black. When you are constantly told that your circumstances are not your fault, then life becomes easy. Any problem you have must be caused by someone else’s actions. Therefore, it is not your responsibility to fix. It might even surprise you to learn that not Aboriginals live under a piece of corrugated tin in Bumfuqnowhere. Not all of them are drug addled fuckwits from Redfern. The vast majority of them lead happy, fulfilled, quiet lives in suburbia, far from the hue and cry of the racist politics of the left. They even marry white folks sometimes Davo! By categorizing them as all being disadvantaged because they are black is racist in the extreme.
I’ll say it one more time for the dummies. It is not something that white people do to brown people. It is not something Aussies do to wogs. It is something people do to each other. If you think that it is an Aussie thing then you simply don’t mix with a wide enough group of people. Go out and make friends with some wogs. Most of them are nice people, just like everyone else. Most of them are capable of being racist pigs when it suits, just like everyone else. You might even enjoy the food. Better than chops, peas and potatoes anyday.
There has been great discussion recently regarding the topic of racism and, as Australians, our supposed predisposition toward it. It is a topic that is simply too complex to discuss back and forth in the comments section of someone’s blog, so I thought I would take a few moments to put my thoughts down in some sort of order.
To give you some context, I would like to explain a little about myself and my background. I am a fifth generation Australian (as far as I have traced so far), of basically British origins. I was born in 1962 and raised in Sydney’s Western Suburbs. Cabramatta, to be precise. That makes me a white male, 42years old and a westie. Prime racist material eh?
Cabramatta was then, and is now, a melting pot of many different races. We had wads of post-war immigrants of many different nationalities. I lived in a short cul-de-sac that had the migrant hostel at the bottom. The makeup of our street was roughly this: On our side it went Scottish, Russian, Italian, Aussies, Latvians, Serbs, Italians, Italians and Croatians. The other side went Italians, Italians, Italians, Serbs, Italians, Various, Aussies, Aussies, Ukrainians, Scots, Macedonians, and this was just my street. As you know, we then had a large influx of Asian refugees starting in the 70’s. In short, if you were racist, you didn’t have any friends. This community was remarkably harmonious. People just plain got along. Sure, there were people you didn’t like but it was usually something more substantial than their racial background. I will have more to say in a future post about why I think that this community was as successful as it was, but it serves to show you some of my background and why I get so upset when people say I am a racist because I am a white male or because I vote for John Howard. It is simply not true. It is a concept that I reject out of hand. This is not to say that Australians are not racist or that I have never been a racist. I am simply stating that we are no more racist than anyone else. I believe that all races use this “evil power” whenever it suits them.
It is not something that white people do to brown people. It is not something Aussies do to wogs. It is something people do to each other.
Let me explain it like this:
I support Parramatta in the football. I go along to games or watch ‘em on the TV and I get all worked up. When my team plays your team, I don’t like your team. Say we are playing against Newcastle, then that Andrew Johns is a mongrel bastard who must be stopped at all costs. Phoooey on him. Kick him in the nuts, pull his hair, whatever. Just beat them. But… when State of Origin time comes around, Andrew Johns no longer is a mongrel bastard who plays for Newcastle. He’s the bloody captain of NSW and a top bloke. Skillful, wiley, just a brilliant player. Great to see my man Nathan Hindmarsh in the same team as the great Andrew Johns. On the other hand, that Shane Webke is a prick eh? Bloody fridge on legs. I don’t like him at all! Smash him boys!!! Bloody Queenslander.
But… when the Aussie team gets picked to go and wallop the Poms, that bloody Webke. Top bloke! Never stops trying. Proud to have him in the side. Go Shane, smash those Poms.
That, my friends is exactly how racism works. It is all about the current perspective and what suits you at the time.
When it suits we are citizens of the world.
When it suits we are Aussies.
When it suits we are part of Asia.
When it suits we are of British descent.
When it suits we are ANZACS
When it suits we are a multicultural paradise.
I have never met a specific race or culture who is not capable of pulling out the race card whenever it suits. The problem is that it stifles genuine debate and the possibility of actually fixing some of our countries serious problems. If you shout down every argument that is not yours as racist, then you are not helping. Some examples of “Aussies inherent racism” were given to me at Darps’ blog today. One fellow said that he had never seen an Aboriginal married to a white person in Australia so therefore we must all be racist. Mate, I lived next door to an Aboriginal chap and his white wife for many years. It is not as uncommon as you think. Another person said that by my treating all races as equal, I was being ethnocentric and therefore was a racist. What the fuck? One person even said that I must be a racist because voted for “the right”. Just what we need mate, sensible debate.
I know it has become fashionable in some circles to be a self flagellator but don’t include me in your guilt trip. The we had the call for an "indigenous" blogger to come in and tell us once more how racist we are because only black people know. IE Black person says white person is racist. Ipso facto... white peole are racist. QED.
While we are talking about Aboriginals. Don’t think that they aren’t as bad as anyone else at this stuff. Many of the tribes are openly hostile to each other for no more reason than their “race” IE My tribe is better than yours. I have personally witnessed the unbelievable amount of diplomacy it takes to get some of these people to just be in the same room as each other, let along carry out a meaningful dialog. This is not a put-down. This just proves they are human like the rest of us. By segregating them into a sub-group of our society that is treated inherently different is racist beyond belief as just does not help. If every problem is looked at through the lens of “it must be whitey’s fault”, then you are missing many opportunities to fix things.
If someone in this country is living in sub-human conditions due to genuine neglect then that is a tragedy and should be fixed. The problem is not a worse one because the victim is black. When you are constantly told that your circumstances are not your fault, then life becomes easy. Any problem you have must be caused by someone else’s actions. Therefore, it is not your responsibility to fix. It might even surprise you to learn that not Aboriginals live under a piece of corrugated tin in Bumfuqnowhere. Not all of them are drug addled fuckwits from Redfern. The vast majority of them lead happy, fulfilled, quiet lives in suburbia, far from the hue and cry of the racist politics of the left. They even marry white folks sometimes Davo! By categorizing them as all being disadvantaged because they are black is racist in the extreme.
I’ll say it one more time for the dummies. It is not something that white people do to brown people. It is not something Aussies do to wogs. It is something people do to each other. If you think that it is an Aussie thing then you simply don’t mix with a wide enough group of people. Go out and make friends with some wogs. Most of them are nice people, just like everyone else. Most of them are capable of being racist pigs when it suits, just like everyone else. You might even enjoy the food. Better than chops, peas and potatoes anyday.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Jeff Lang
I had the pleasure on Saturday night of going to see the amazing Jeff Lang at the Brass Monkey in Cronulla. What a great show. In my experience it's not often that a single person with an acoustic guitar can be entertaining for more than about 10 minutes but Jeff is one of the exceptions.
Read the rest at GibbosWarStories.com
Read the rest at GibbosWarStories.com
Engrish
Hi folks, I'm back from holidays and feelin' fine.
Don't tell anyone, but I was reading the instructions of a network cable tester this morning when I found the following:
"ATTENTION.
Please be sure battery enough, battery voltage lower, indicator lamp will not clear, flash or doesn't bright and influence test result."
and
"WARNING.
Prohibit will tester connect to with electron wire on.otherwise when high voltage will damage tester."
and finishing with...
"Any renew or improve of the products will not be adviced."
I didn't know Margo worked in translating instructions.
Don't tell anyone, but I was reading the instructions of a network cable tester this morning when I found the following:
"ATTENTION.
Please be sure battery enough, battery voltage lower, indicator lamp will not clear, flash or doesn't bright and influence test result."
and
"WARNING.
Prohibit will tester connect to with electron wire on.otherwise when high voltage will damage tester."
and finishing with...
"Any renew or improve of the products will not be adviced."
I didn't know Margo worked in translating instructions.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
All aboard the band wagon. First stop Peanutville.
There was a great comment the other day on Andrew Bartletts blog that, for me, sums up the stupidity and the hatred of todays lefties. Andrew has been on a trip overseas which included Turkey. He wrote a nice little story about Gallipoli in which he included the famous words of Ataturk regarding Australian soldiers still lying, buried, at Gallipoli:
"you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well."
Nice words eh? I've got to admit they are quite moving really. Then in the comments we get quickly slapped back to the reality of a leftist blog. Some barking moonbat says:
"Can't help but think of the difference in attitude between Ataturk and our PM: Ataturk welcomed into the 'bosom' of Turkey the thousands of men who arrived in boats to kill his countrymen and capture their land ..."
I nearly snorted coffee out my nose.
I can see the scene now. ANZACS arriving in their boats with Ataturk standing at the top of the cove with a beer in one hand and the BBQ tongs in the other calling "Welcome mates, grab a coldie on your way up the hill". NOT.
No matter what the story, somehow to the leftist peanut brains, it is always a demonstration of the inherrent evil of Little Johnny Ratus hoWARd.
I'll explain it for you. The people he welcomed into the bosom of Turkey were THE DEAD ONES HE HAD SHOT THE SHIT OUT OF.
Fucking idiots!
"you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well."
Nice words eh? I've got to admit they are quite moving really. Then in the comments we get quickly slapped back to the reality of a leftist blog. Some barking moonbat says:
"Can't help but think of the difference in attitude between Ataturk and our PM: Ataturk welcomed into the 'bosom' of Turkey the thousands of men who arrived in boats to kill his countrymen and capture their land ..."
I nearly snorted coffee out my nose.
I can see the scene now. ANZACS arriving in their boats with Ataturk standing at the top of the cove with a beer in one hand and the BBQ tongs in the other calling "Welcome mates, grab a coldie on your way up the hill". NOT.
No matter what the story, somehow to the leftist peanut brains, it is always a demonstration of the inherrent evil of Little Johnny Ratus hoWARd.
I'll explain it for you. The people he welcomed into the bosom of Turkey were THE DEAD ONES HE HAD SHOT THE SHIT OUT OF.
Fucking idiots!
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