You don’t need a fiscal stimulus if you’ve got Jesus

Heh. Words of Wisdom from Chase me ladies, I'm in the cavalry.

One of the things about living between two houses is that you often find yourself moving furniture between one or the other, then, when something changes (like the impending arrival of someone to stay for a year or so) you move it all back.

So yesterday, I was in a borrowed Toyota van, moving a double bed back into town, and a single bed, and sundry other items, back up the coast.

Someone else's car can tell you lots about the owner: it may be messy, or pristine, full of ciggie butts, or other odds & ends, but the most joy by far, is to listen to someone else's choice of radio channel.

I'd change the station, but last time I did that with this van, I'd failed to notice which frequency I'd started off with, and it was mentioned to me that leaving the dial on Radio NZ was not appreciated.

So yesterday I decided to leave the station as was & I tootled into town to the strains of variously:

Bend It - Dave, Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, and Titch
12 Steps to Love - The Tremeloes
I Write the Songs - The Guy Who Wrote the Songs
Something by Dean Martin that I didn't recognise

I misted over slightly at that Pony She Named Wildfire, I marveled that it had been a long time since I'd heard Jonothan Livingston Seagull (and I have now renamed one of the characters in my nascent novel, Jonathon Livingston Segal).

At Pukerua Bay, Michael Jackson's Ben* segued perfectly into something by Roberta Flack & the rest of the trip was spent with Mana FM, who seem to specialise in Motown funk & R&B.

On arriving home, I told Mrs Llew that I wasn't sure what was scarier, the steering or the radio station. Mrs Llew revealed she'd made a passing comment to the van's owner a few days ago, about the singer Pink. The van owner asked "Who?"

On the return trip, the Supremes on Mana FM sputtered once, and morphed into a Jackson song so heinous, that my mind had blocked it out until now & channels I tuned into pretty much deny its existence, no mean feat for a Jackson song at this time - The Girl is Mine (The Girl is Nine?), a feeble duet with Paul McCartney. He was a lover, not a fighter, apparently.

I endured ABBA's Dancing Queen, Queen's Another One Bites the Dust, Buddy Holly's Oh Boy, The Streak by Ray Stevens, and surprisingly, Hello Sailor's Blue Lady followed by Midnight Oil's Power and the Passion..

I warbled along to It Never Rains in California, Roy Orbison Crying, and gritted my teeth to Sir Cliff's Devil Woman.

I didn't catch the station's name, but much mention was made of "Timeless Hits", for which the cutoff date seems to be around 1975.

* A quick word at David Gest, who hosted an MTV show of MJ's 40 "Greatest" videos the other night on TV, Ben was not a song Jackson wrote about his pet rat, it was the theme to the 1971 movie Willard, a mediocre schlocker about a guy with a rat called Ben, whose friendship goes horribly wrong.

They've found the Rock!

Or the Church... I can't remember which one Paul was. Oh wait, he was the bass guitarist.

But anyway, it seems someone's opened an old tomb, and OK, it's been rumoured for eons to be the tomb of the Apostle Paul, but they appeared to be satisfied that this is indeed he, because carbon dating says the bones date from the 1st or 2nd century.

That settles it, it has been long known that the only person to die in Rome in the 1st and 2nd centuries was the Apostle Paul.

Tests confirm St Paul's bones - Pope | Stuff.co.nz

Hell yes.

I just watched the Jim Carrey film, Yes Man. it's the one with Rhys darby in it.

I'm not a huge Carrey fan, but this does have quite a few laugh out loud moments. It also has a few, y'know, Jim Carrey moments, but they're the exception rather than the rule - he's pleasantly toned down for a change & the film is funnier for it.

Carrey is Carl, a guy who hasn't got over his marriage breakup 3 years ago & makes excuses not to have a life. His friends are giving up on him, particularly when he forgets his best friend's engagement party.

Anyway, he attends a self motivation convention featuring an Uber-creepy Terrence Stamp "Say yes a million times and then say it a million times more, what you have just said 2 million times is...?"

"YES" his followers roar.

In a very embarrassing exchange, Carl enters into a covenant with Stamp to say "Yes" to every opportunity that presents itself.

On his first day, Carl takes up flying, Korean, and guitar lessons (all of which come in handy down the track - the singing-the-suicidal-jumper-off-the-ledge scene is particularly inspired), drives a homeless man up into the hills & gives him the use of his mobile phone. Just like in the Secret, the universe starts giving things back to Carl big time. His life does a 180 degree spin, his friends start to like him again, he hooks up with Zooey Deschanel, and gets a promotion.

He starts to treat people better, he attends a Harry Potter theme party at the home of his boss (Rhys Darby doing Murray), which I thought was one of the funniest sights I'd laid eyes on until the 300 theme party later on in the movie. Imagine please, a near naked Darby clad in leather undies, fake beard, sword, shield and horn rimmed glasses roaring "We are SPARTAAAAA!" It's chilling.

There are downsides... there's a scene with a randy old lady that had me covering my eyes.

But on the whole, I'm quite taken with the film and the concept, I have resolved that from tomorrow morning, I shall be alive to opportunities.

Of course, I have the advantage that I have seen the end, where Carl learns that it is OK to say "No" now & then.

SO I won't be: learning to fly, bungy jumping, getting a blowjob from an octogenarian (nor anyone that is not called Mrs Llew). Chances are slim that I will drive a hobo anywhere.

But aside from that, and with all the fine print terms and conditions applying, hell YES!

After the referendum

Everyone be vigilant, if Larry Baldock, or anyone else behind the wording of this odd question (should it be legal to control parents' behavour by smacking them, apparently - look, I heard Baldock telling Sean Plunket* what HE thinks it means, & my take is grammatically more valid than his) ever rails about falling literacy standards, we should have grounds to demand our $9m back.

* I think that Plunket, as a journalist was more upset by the assault on the English language than the issue of child assault, every definition proffered by Baldock was met with a frustrated (and correct) "But that's not what it says."

And uh... you're going to have to look for that plunket interview link yourself, it's been months since I posted & I'm exhausted after this. It'll be on the Radio NZ site somewhere

Alexander the Director's Cut

I finally caught Oliver Stone's Alexander. Reviews of the original version suggested that all the film's highlights were in Colin Farrell's hair...

Well same for the director's cut as it turned out.

Pretty so so... but if you're in the mood for a film about a rowdy Wham tribute band brawling their way aroung Greece & Asia Minor, it's probably worth a look.

Alexander (film) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Fresh figs

In the last few weeks I've tried fresh figs for the first time ever. Not just fresh figs, but homegrown fresh figs!

Actually, we lived in a place with a fig tree once before - it was too tall to reach the fruit & the birds got every last one, every year. SunnyO has a fig tree too, and it's much smaller so the fruit is within reach. However, for the last several years, the birds have consumed every last fig well before they ripened enough for humans.

But this year, I purchased a number of diverse lengths of bird netting. I netted off grapes (partially successfully) tomatoes (very successfully), and the small fig tree (EPIC result!).

Figs are very nice, they're better when they're slightly squishy than when they're firm. I recommend you try some if you have the chance.

(Sorry for lack of photos of homegrown figs).

Figs/Ficus - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Some Thoughts on the Botanic Gardens | the wellingtonista

Cross post from the Wellingtonista.

Some Thoughts on the Botanic Gardens | the wellingtonista