Beggars' Choice

This is a quick note to remind myself to, when I have more time, write about how forcing children to sing "The Gypsy Rover" is incredibly cruel.

(This has previously been posted this in a friend's scarpbook on orkut, but I'm reprinting here because I'm too lazy to think of anything original to write.)

A year or so ago, we got this nifty thing at work where you can (among other things) scan people's faces and load the data into a milling machine to make masks that get used in cancer radiation therapy.

So, what better use to put this technology to than to make creepy death masks! A colleague retired last Friday and he was presented with one of these things; a carved jarrah replica of his face: eyes closed, mouth slightly twisted. It looked as if had suffered a mercifully quick death, if not a peaceful one. "Oh" he said, and then again, "oh". Then he was presented with what was presumably the rough draft made out of plaster or something. "You can hang it in the toilet", someone said brightly. "Ah" said he.

I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, but I don't think the ol' gold watch is any danger of being superceded.

From a post in US blog 3 Quarks Daily on the Zinedine Zidane World Cup-brain explosion:

What did Materazzi say? Could it have been so unfamiliarly offensive that it incited a frenzy? Or was it merely a petty final straw near the end of a long match, a long career, of being insulted for Zidane? Insulting a player to incite is common enough that there's a word for it: sledging, from cricket, where it's apparently done with the greatest skill by the Australians.

Hooray! Australia makes its mark in world sport yet again!

And from comments:

How easily one forgets de Rossi and his intentional elbow to McBride's face. Or Totti's spitting in the face of an opponent, etc. Remember, de Rossi took one of the penalty kicks in the final. Not a peep was heard. And those were just in the usual course of play, not charged with racist elements.

It appears that Italian coach Marcello Lippi systematically assembled a team of complete bastards. Good for you, sir! That is how things get done these days.

Was walking through the city the other day, and (as I found out later) a suspicious looking package had indeed aroused suspicions, and a chunk of Northbridge had been cordoned off. Noticing that some sort of incident had caused the police to block off the streets, we asked a policeman what was going on. He told us that some sort of incident had occurred, which had caused the police to block off the streets.

Talk about shooting your mouth off! I don't know about you, but I don't like that sort of casual divulging of top-secret information. It was all I could do to not remind him that loose lips sink ships, before reporting him to ASIO. Instead I bade him good day, and continued on my way.

There are lots of things I admire about the Italians (sharp dress sense, pizzas, laziness) but most of all I admire their weasel-like ability to switch alligence to the winning side at the drop of a hat. Therefore, in the spirit of this, forza Italia, I say! FORZA ITALIA! Bellisimo! Espresso! Mozzarella etc

Bought a shirt on eBay recently. The brand was one I already own several shirts of, and so therefore I knew what size I ought to take. The shirt was nominally sky blue.

Turns out to be too big (ta daa!), and thanks to my slightly inaccurate monitor settings, the colour had been displayed inaccurately as well. It turned out to be a sort of lurid baby blue, the colour of blankets used to swaddle male infants.

Q. Why do I keep doing this to myself? WHY?
A. Because I am a notorious tightarse.