DIY

A large piece of wood has just fallen of the front of my flat. It doesn’t provide any structural support, but I should nail it back on for the sake of appearances. After last week’s death-defying fridge manoeuvring I’m also going to repaint the edges of the outdoor steps with something white and industrial. Anything to prevent more deaths.

The Listener: Wit & Humour Issue

I was looking forward to reading The Listener’s Humour & Wit issue. It’s not just a cover story, pretty much the entire issue is devoted to articles about NZ comedy. Unfortunately the editors seem to have commissioned the stories without checking what everyone else was up to – there’s a lot of duplication. For example, John Clarke writes a short history of NZ comedy, followed by Bill Ralston doing exactly the same thing. Within two pages, both write about the influence of The Goon Show and ITMA. Ralston refers to Tom Scott as “gonzo” and 17 pages later Jane Clifton refers to Ralston as “gonzo”. Neither, my friends, are “gonzo”. There’s an article by Germaine Greer about women in comedy, followed by an article by Sarah Barnett about women in comedy – quoting Germaine Greer. You can see the problem.

A large amount of space is devoted to demographic analysis of a pointless readers’ poll asking “who is the greatest exponent of NZ humour”, with Billy T. James at 48% and no-one else even in the running. Flight of the Conchords is fawned over, and Melody Rules disparaged, which I bet no-one saw coming. The excellent Funny Business is mentioned twice, but the fragrant Ginette McDonald is given the same amount of space as A.K. Grant, who has been dead for 9 years. Standup, the only growth area of NZ comedy, is only briefly covered.

There’s a page devoted to Burton Silver’s Bogor, but they’re hardly classic examples. Other former cartoon contributors fare less well – there’s nothing about Chris Slane, even though seven of his excellent cartoons are used in several articles. Trace Hodgson only pops up once, even though in the ’80s The Listener was brave enough to print his astonishing series Shafts of Strife. Murray Ball appears once, as does David Low.

The most interesting article is by Tom Scott about his time in the Press Gallery during the Muldoon years. Sadly, with most of the writers in their fifties and sixties, the focus of the issue is on his generation. NZ’s funniest comedians are dead – Billy T. James, A.K. Grant and David Lange. NZ TV comedy is horrible, except for the shows that aren’t supposed to be comedies (Outrageous Fortune) and are filmed overseas (FotC). The ’80s were a golden time for comedy. Not much has happened since, certainly not to anyone under the age of fifty. NZ is a small, introspective, not particularly humorous country, and The Listener used to be a great magazine. That’s what I read into it, anyway.

The sports drink that you pour into your ear?

I’m running out of hip energy drinks to try, so I bought some Horleys Carbo Cola. This is a lightly carbonated cola energy drink which “delivers a concentrated surge of carbs to fuel working muscles using two different pathways”. What’s wrong with the traditional pathway? You don’t mean – Oh, thank god! I just read the label more carefully, and it’s a metaphor. The two pathways are mind and muscle. I thought for a second… anyway, it has the same ingredients as any other cola, and I can’t imagine a serious sportsperson going anywhere near it. Mind you, Sarah Ulmer endorses McDonalds, so what do I know?

At least it’s made in NZ, unlike the new Red Bull Cola which I tried a few weeks ago. It tastes nice, but it’s made in the UK, which is a bloody long way to haul a mere drink.

New World Metro, the most expensive supermarket in Wellington, has 350ml Vs on sale for $3.31. Under the bottles is a label which proclaims “2 for $4.30″. Aha! Upon closer inspection, this price actually applies to the nearby 250ml cans, which makes them exactly 1 cent more expensive than a 500ml can. $4.29 is more than you’d pay in any dairy. So basically everything is even more expensive than everything else, and if you’re being ripped off it’s still a bargain considering what it could be. How’s that for a positive attitude?

Thin people are allowed to love junk food, too.

After reading about the discount store selling cheap, unhealthy food which has just opened in Rongotai, a store which we are warned is going to be disastrous to the health of New Zealanders* …I really want to go to Rongotai.

I’m trying to draw something. I’ve procrastinated enough. I’ve done two loads of washing, set up a computer for my flatmate, removed cobwebs from the corners of all the rooms in the flat, helped our shiny new flatmate move furniture, repaired her desk, eaten birthday cake, put out recycling, constructed a makeshift coffee table out of a new but dicarded kidney-shaped top from Vic’s Atrium and three cardboard boxes and lots of duct tape, and read 19 pages of comment on NZ’s latest small-minded petty bourgeois bumbiter controversy (© Graham Chapman) before giving up in disgust at how mean this country gets when they think someone else is getting ahead at their expense. I’ve read too many public debates where all I can conclude is that both sides are total morons.

Does anyone know where I can get a set of sturdy coffee table legs? I’ve tried a few building recyclers, but with no luck.

*Not really, but it’ll certainly put a few more pounds on the already ample frames of Rongotai College students.

“Does it work?” “Uh… yeah! Yeah!”

An interesting Grauniad article about Shaun Tan, author of The Arrival.

One of those days where you wait around for ages and then everything happens at once. Like WWI without the shrapnel. Our new fridge arrived at the precise moment that I was trying to make my deadline for Jitterati. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried helping a Japanese couple manoeuvre a 25-year old fridge down dark steps to the sound of “Tora! Tora!”

Expansion Valve Soundtrack:
Followed by a Trail of Sparks ~Good Laika
Live at AL’s ~Hera
Pot Boiler ~The Verlaines

Ding! Dong! etc.

That was, of course, unpleasant. Now it’s over  I can get on with my life, and hope to god I never encounter the like again.

Hera Hjartardottir at the Fringe Bar

I won tickets to see charming Icelandic singer Hera perform at the Fringe Bar. The crowd was small considering that the event was on the cover of Capital Times, but she was both professional and personable.

At some point in the afternoon there will be three fridges on the premises.

One fridge was unexpectedly unplugged and emptied on Tuesday night, and has been in the laundry since. The replacement fridge was hurriedly pulled into service, but although the freezer part is going gangbusters, the fridge part has turned out to be non-operational. So our food has been going off for the past few days while a working fridge stands empty, to make some sort of fucking point, I guess. A second replacement fridge should arrive in the afternoon. Wrangling it around the other two fridges will be a challenge, like a very, very slow version of that game with the ball and three cups.

It’s Brunswick’s 16th birthday on Sunday, but I’m not celebrating until after 6pm. Feel free to contact me and join me in town with other good, sane people. By my estimation about 90% of my current cares and worries will have melted away forever by then, but I’m also anticipating a last-minute nasty surprise. You’d think it wouldn’t be a surprise if I knew it was certain to happen, but I still don’t know the nature of the surprise.

Tick… Tick…

Yor a sad pathetic piece of humanity who hasn’t ever managed 2 work out why ppl end up loathing u, aren’t u?

In less than 48 hours I will never have to put up with this kind of abuse again.

The end of a sad and appalling trial

I’m very, very glad the Clayton Weatherston case is over. There’s been a lot of commentary since Wednesday on the sheer awfulness of this particular trial – notably the injustice of the defendant maligning the reputation of his dead victim in an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to get his charge reduced from murder to manslaughter. This must have been unbearable for her family and friends – but the voyeuristic court coverage deserves condemnation as well.

This trial had a beautiful dead girl, and an intelligent, articulate villain. The protagonists were white and middle-class. The defendant tried to prove that his victim was promiscuous, cruel, callous, brash, and sexually forward, and somehow this behaviour – not at all unique among human beings, especially 22-year olds – justified her brutal murder and mutilation. It’s an unpleasant thing to mention yet again, but Weatherston did not just kill his ex-girlfriend. He disfigured her, targeting her face and genitals, bending and snapping the knife he used against her. His attempts to justify this incomprehensibly brutal act appeared on TV every night for five weeks without comment. It was a destructive and unsubtle message, a cautionary tale for young girls worthy of an unbowdlerized fairy tale from the Middle Ages.

There’s also been a backlash about Weatherston’s demeanour, his arrogance and insensitivity on the stand. Well, I didn’t like him either, but admittedly if you put me on the stand in any capacity I’m sure I’d strike people as an arrogant creep. New Zealanders do not like murderers, but they also hate smart-arses, intellectuals and articulacy.

I don’t agree with banning provocation as a partial defence, unless it’s describing situations that should already be covered by self defence. Could it be modified to eliminate abuse by bigots and misogynists?

Weatherston’s defence team were doing their job, no matter how appalling some of their statements were, but I’d be surprised if they sleep well at night. Weatherston himself is going to have an extremely unpleasant time in prison. I hope, after the sentencing in September, we never hear from him again.

Spend a day in Wellington

It’s possible to do an entire tour of most of central Wellington’s interesting bits in a day, and pretty much for free. I was showing a friend of a friend of my lovely new flatmate around town today – we covered the Botanical Gardens, the Cable Car, the Beehive, Lambton Quay, Civic Square, the waterfront, Te Papa and Cuba St. We also accidentally attended the funeral of Te Papa’s CEO. Unusual day, and it cost me about $30 including dinner.