Busybody of the Week

Robyn Toomath

http://xtramsn.co.nz/businessandmoney/0,,13273-5715354,00.html

"Robyn Toomath says in an ideal world, there would be no advertising or promotion of junk food at all."

How about- "In an ideal world, parents would control what their porker brats stuffed into their faces."

Feckin' food nazis!

No doubt a liarbour-voting 'let's ban everything bad- or tax it' type- probably with a background in HR.

Anyone who has seen a 'happy meal' knows that there ain't a lot of food there. A normal kid would burn it off running around, playing sport or playing.

Could these ban all fat, sweet or salty food types have been the spotty fat kid that was always last to be picked for a team? or is it some other form of personality defect that drives then to push their opinions on all & sundry?

More MSM Bollocks

Kiwi hero foils attack by bomber 28 April 2006
By KIM THOMAS and BRITTON BROUNA Burnham soldier is being hailed as a hero after saving the lives of two international peacekeepers by evading a suicide bomber trying to drive into their vehicle in Egypt.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/stuff/0,2106,3650267a11,00.html

This is another example of the blatent abuse of the term 'Hero' , in the antique media.

There is little to nothing heroic in dodging danger thus saving your own skin, even if in doing so you save a couple of others along the way.

This soldier has shown that he has quick reactions and good judgement, for sure. For that he should be praised. He did a damned good job and my writing here intends to take nothing from what he has done.


But Heroic- no. That is when you deliberatly put yourself in danger to achieve something. Not when you just survived something. This short of shite is spouted all the time about 'heroic survivors'. Bullshit- they were just bloody victims!

Heroic is when you go into a burning house to get someone out- when you fight off a mad dog with your bare hands, to save a bunch of schoolkids it's attacking.

It's not such a hard distinction to get ones head around!

Also, in the article, they talk about the soldier's 'Supervisor' What kind of crap are they talking?

"...Roewen's Burnham supervisor, Major Marcus Linehan, said Roewen was a well-liked team member and a dedicated soldier..."

The Major mentioned would have been his company commander or OC (Officer, Commanding)

Not a friggin' supervisor, you journo wankers!

Get it right once in your bloody lives! if you are going to write about things millitary, do just a little background...

Following the reply to last night's post...

Dear Ma and Pa:
I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before maybe all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.

Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, and stuff, but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food. But tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by two city boys that live on coffee.

Their food plus yours holds you till noon, when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much. We go on "route" marches, which the Platoon Sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it is not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice, but awful flat.

The Sergeant is like a schoolteacher. He nags some. The Capt. is like the school board. Majors and Colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move. And it ain't shooting at you, like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in little metal boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. He joined up the same time as me. But I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and weighs near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,

Gail

Normal service will be resumed shortly

Only one more week of double shifts! By then I should have the first of the two FNG's trained up enough to be left alone.

Thankfully, them that do the hiring have gone away from hiring boys!

As I explained to them, all the local ones that would do well in the job are already off doing well in some other job! Apart from the odd good one entering the work force (which they don't tend to in the middle of the year) what's left are the dregs- the permanantly baffled, congenitally idle and the drug-addled- all from the shallow end of the gene pool.

fatwah anyone?

I got this one from a closed MSN group I run- most of my best stuff is swiped from there- being a closed group I can't give proper credits- so all credit to an anonymous contributor who posts a new joke every day. I always look in first thing for my morning laugh.

Here is today's:


A Muslim was killed in a car accident and he arrives at the gates of heaven.
St. Peter says: "I'm St. Peter. Welcome to Heaven."

The Muslim says: "Nice to meet you Peter but I'm as a Muslim, I would like to meet Muhammad.

Peter says: "Sure - no problem. Climb up that ladder behind you, he's up there"

The Muslim climbs up the ladder, gets to the top and there's Moses. Moses says: "Hi I'm Moses. Welcome to Heaven".

The Muslim is very excited. "Moses, it's such an honor to meet you. But like I told St. Peter, Im a Muslim and I really want to meet Muhammad".

Moses says: "No problem. Climb up the ladder behind you and you'll meet Muhammad."

The Muslim climbs up the ladder, gets to the top, he can't see anything but bright light. He sees this figure before him and asks: "Who are you?" The figure responds - "I am God. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Heaven".

God walks over and shakes his hand. The Muslim is stunned - he can hardly speak. He says to God: "Sir, it is such an honor to meet you - I can't believe it - this place is great. But I'm a Muslim and, no disrespect intended, but I really want to meet Muhammad."

God says: "Ohh... You're here to see Muhammad! I see! No problem. Have a seat. Get comfortable. Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?"

The Muslim says: "I would love a cup of coffee."

God yells through a hatch behind Him into the kitchen: "Yo Muhammad. 2 coffees!!!"

View from the Work's front gate

Inspired by workplace photos at Dodderyoldfart's blog

We work in the places you pay money to travel to!

The Sleeper Car

A man and a woman who had never met before, but were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a transcontinental train.
Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly... he in the upper bunk and she in the lower.

At 1:00 AM, the man leaned over and gently woke the woman saying,
"Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket? I'm awfully cold."

"I have a better idea," she replied.
"Just for tonight, let's pretend that we're married."

"Wow! That's a great idea!" he exclaimed.

"Good," she replied. "Get your own f**king blanket."

After a moment of silence, he farted.

Work and Workers

It's been an interesting few weeks. I have been working from 0630 to 2100, with one day off in that time. It's not quite that bad as I generally have a break between 1600 and 1800, soI get to see the kids.

This is a temporary situation, while we recruit. As the one before me proved a WOFTAM, the process has been prolonged, but a new chap starts Monday and he seems OK.

I think it is finally proved that the only jobs I enjoy are those where I'm left to my own devices to get on with it. Most of my life I've worked in jobs where I'm in a sole charge position. Where I hadn't been, I usually hated the job (Corrections, for example)

Few things piss me off as much as working with a chronic underachiever A.K.A Lazy Useless Prick! These subhumans are leeches, no- friggin' tapeworms! They are great fans of 'Teamwork', meaning they want to be carried by the efforts of others.

This one is interesting. Historically, it had been considered a hell-hole that nobody has lasted in. I see it as a job that can be a bit of a cruise, provided you keep up the preventitive maintainence.
Apparently the last couple that worked there near lived on the site.

I have yet to have a problem that couldn't be fixed using PC Anywhere...

People I would like to incinerate

#436

Boys who suddenly can't do their Sunday late shift.

Apparently someone died and needs burying, but I can't find any evidence of the supposed event (a car smash)

There may be a real funeral yet...

Found elsewhere on the Internet...

St. Peter is standing at the Pearly Gates one day when up walks a Group of forty people. St. Peter asks them where they’re from, and what happened.They replied that they were from Otara, and while on a joyride in a stolen bus, it went off the harbour bridge.

St P. told them that things were a bit tight in heaven roomwise, but he would go check with God. "Pick the ten most righteous. They shall enter Heaven!!" says God.

Ten minutes later Peter comes back to God,"They're gone !!" he exclaims. "What, all forty ??" says God. "No, not them" says Peter "Im talking about the fucking gates....!!"

The crystal ball does it again

A few days ago, I wrote about water and user pays.

Buggered if a letter didn't arrive today saying that exactly that is going to happen here in the near future. Meters will be installed and households billed for water over and above that paid for in the rates.

I'm currently waiting for howls of outrage from the 'water is a right' mob. Tons of it in the creek, there for the taking. It even falls from the sky, deivery free- you just need a container.

Another of my predictions- petrol at $2.00+/litre by the end of 2006 is well on track...




-BTW, I'm NOT employed by the local council- I work for a living!

Supermarket meat

I scored a pile of home-killed beef today.

After a slab of rump steak cooked rare, I am reminded of what crap most supermarket meat is.

I'm sure that their stock comes from culled-out dairy cows or anything near the end of it's life.

Not being a lion, and having to actually run my prey down, the oldest, weakest or the sick are not my target.

While it would be easy to say that quality has a direct correlation to price, but that's not always true. The wholesale cost of meat- restaurant or export grade, is less than the conveniently packed supermarket fare.

Knowing how long it takes me to cut and pack a whole rump, I don't think it costs that much to do the packing.

You are paying for the convenience and getting crap quality at the same time.

Feckin' Easter!

Some prick gets nailed to a tree 2000 years ago and I can't buy a beer at the supermarket!

I can buy one at the pub, but I perfer to drink at home- no driving involved. I've just finished working two weeks of double shifts and my skin is cracking!

I can't get anything out of the beer fridge as the CO2 cylinder has run out and I haven't had a chance to get a new one.

Back to that Arrack that I stashed away 6 or seven years ago. It's not too bad with Ginger Beer.

Feckin' bible nazis ! We should crucify the lot of them- along with the wankers in parliment that haven't repealed these shithouse laws.

Youth rates- the case for them

One reason that comes to mind is that youth are so often bloody useless!

The option is needed for paying them what they are worth. In the case of our boy at work, about half that of anyone else.

The concept of being a self-starter is totally lost on him. He works fine when directed, but like a computer needs booting to get him started. His progress about the plant can be tracked by following the trail of discarded sweet wrappers and empty soft drink bottles. Somehow he manages to make even more of a mess when presented with a broom and is directed to clean up.

He has been off two days and my workload remains almost completly unchanged- the morning routine takes about twenty mintes longer.


Today he has decided that he is having too much fun to do his shift tomorrow and will stay up north, despite being rostered on.

I think the problem of choosing between work and fun may be solved for him, come Tuesday...

Update:

Tonight I get called back after he has spun out over a couple of minor breakdowns, each taking under 15 minutes to fix.

I think he would find being a lawnmower man stressful...

User Pays- but is often to dumb to know where...

I've always been a great believer in this.

Now I'm involved in one of those contentious areas of 'user pays'. Water.

When a thing is percieved as 'free' (it isn't) it will invariably be wasted (it is)

When water is wasted, the cost is invisible to most- it's tacked onto the rates bill- which is always going up way ahead of inflation.

I have heard many a time 'water should be free- it's our right to have water!'

So buy a friggin rainwater tank!

Meter it, charge accordingly and keep the cost off the rates bill. That's cheaper than having to pay for plant capacity upgrades!

A Stern Mistress

I had occasion to call the Ministry of Justice last night.

I love their automated system! The women who's voice they use sounds like she should be called Mistress Whip or some other dominatrix handle, like Nurse Catheter or perhaps Nanny Spank.

No warm insincere syrupy tone as the voicemail shuffles you from menu to menu here!

This is the voice of someone who means BUSINESS!

She sounds like she should have her hair in a bun, come from East Germany and own an man-eating Alsatian!

0800 776 776

Thought for Today

"Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example."

Mark Twain

'Twas a cold & stormy night...

It is as I'm writing this!

The wind is howling and the rain is driving down.

Some poor sods have to go out and work in this stuff. Me being one of them.

Funny how I hate working outside in ordinary miserable weather, but find working in a storm quite enjoyable. Most of the job involves driving around down farm tracks and unsealed access roads (so it's inside, after a fashion) with the odd dash through the rain to check a gauge or bit of machinery. A couple of hours of that, then I can stay inside at the plant and watch the weather happen via telemetry.

If only it didn't invove 6am starts!

Feckin' colds

Don't you love the way they come along at the worst bloody times!

First day in a new job and my head turns into a mucus factory. Usually with me the nose thing lasts for a day, then mutates into a cough that lasts for about three weeks.

So I've got that to look forward to...

Strange things wot you find on the Internet!

Also found lurking in nearby bottle stores!

From the Blacksheep brewery.

Tomorrow I will post the tasting results!

Lesson for Today

Still here, but a bit preoccupied

I'm still here but this blog will be going a bit quiet for a while, as I start a new job tomorrow.

I'm starting a new trade, so will have to do yet another set of qualifications. No doubt I will have plenty to say about that process and NEQA (or whatever they friggin' call themselves this week!)

Bullshit line of the week- 'I'm SO busy!'

There are simple solutions to this 'problem'

Don't spend 45 minutes in the shower in the morning.
Grocery shopping- cheapest or the one you always get- easy!
Playcentre is not a fashion parade.
Think first, then dress. You should know what the clothes look like before you put them on.
Do the small stuff the night before, when you are not on the clock.
Ironing- see above.
Some jobs need doing now, most can wait- they won't go away.
The message 'email me' on your anwswerphone.
Flyers from supermarkets you never use don't need to be read.
Boys don't care what they wear. If it's clean, nor should you.
Unless you are in cadet school, beds don't need to be made.
Laundry- load, tip soap in, push button. Time elapsed-45 second- nuf said?
Children= clutter. Acceptance is healthier than prozac.
Plan your trip, as if YOU pay for the petrol AND it's rationed (at $1.53/l, it might as well be!)
Spend five minutes longer in bed- THINKING about what need to be done this morning.

The time you spend complaining about how busy you are actually adds up to quite a bit of time each week. it's enough to do at least one of those things you bitch about not having time to do.

Most importantly- DON'T WASTE MY TIME WHINING ABOUT WHAT LITTLE TIME YOU HAVE!!!

Especially when I'm busy blogging!

The Roman Internet

Over at b3ta, there is a section-

"The Romans invented loads of stuff: the alphabet, concrete, even satire and pizza. But what if the web had been around? What would they have used it for? Show us the Roman Internet..."

Romans

This is priceless!

Big Brother is watching, listening, waiting for YOU!

"...Justice Randerson ordered that widespread suppression orders made at the start of the trial would continue. The order prevents publication of evidence from five witnesses at the trial. He said that Internet bulletin boards and chat rooms might need to be monitored..."

More:

Why not just put a friggin' camera and microphone on every street corner, in every home, workplace, club or bar, while you are at it? Lets open all the mail, in case someone has said something subversive?

Why don't we hold ALL trials in secret?

This fascist crap makes me puke- this really reeks of the thought police!

How different talking on chat or a board to any converstion in a public place- a bar, club or street corner. It's written, I guess and easier to prove.

I'm very uneasy that an individual can be held acountable for the actions of another (commenter, poster)

Update:

Never mind monitoring the Internet- the supression order is being pissed all over by old-fashioned pamphlets being handed out.