Monthly Archives: June 2011

Foodge 26 – Friday Night Happy Hour

10 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by in Big M

≈ 11 Comments

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By Big M

Foodge sat alone in the Nathan Rees memorial Cinema, located in the second floor of the Pigs Arms. He was dressed in his usual, or, rather, unusual clobber, grey stripped three button suit, crisp, white, bespoke business shirt with French cuffs, held together with silver cuff links bearing his family crest; a goose passant, rampant on a blue lake with daffodil embellishments, College of Laws tie, in a Windsor knot, light grey braces, black brogues by Loake of London, all topped by a black Fedora which sat on the table, brim side up so as to not alter the shape of the brim. He was waiting for young Wes to report on the goings on at the Cronulla Sharks surf gang, which, Foodge hoped, he’d infiltrated without pissing oodles of Foodge’s client’s hard earned cash against the proverbial masonry.

Foodge liked the cinema. It was cool and dark, which allowed one to sit and meditate over a refreshing beverage, and it was rarely used, unless Merv had managed to scrape up a ‘fillum’ that fitted into the ancient projector which hid behind the back wall, Its lens was always just visible to those inquisitive enough to be looking at the back wall. There was little risk of being disturbed on a Wednesday. No Bowling Ladies around (they always played an ‘away game’ on Wednesdays, in fact, they always played an away game, as they had no green of their own). The Hell’s Angles, those motorcycling geometricians, held a meeting twice a month to discuss such arcane subjects as; slide rule maintenance, Poiseuille’s law and it’s relationship to boundaries between laminar and turbulent flow, and so on.  Foodge could hear Merv’s monotonous voice from the Main Bar droning on about liquor licences, tax and ‘owsa man supposta make a livin’ sellin’ beer’?

The sound of the side door opening made Foodge look up. “Wes, good to see you…” Wes wasn’t there. In his place stood someone who looked vaguely familiar. It was Warwick, or Warren or… Waz, that’s right, thought Foodge, this is the bloke that helped me with the photos in the MP case. “Gooday Waz, how’s it hangin’?” Foodge occasionally tried to add a tradesmen like quality to his banter.

“Sorry mate, I’m looking for Merv.” The chap had a couple of those expensive laptop bags, which he struggled to carry. “He’s got trouble with his jukebox, and I’ve got some upgrades which may sort it.”

Foodge wondered how this master of digital imagery could sort out a jukebox. “ Merv’s downstairs, whinging, as usual.” Foodge thought this to be rather witty. “That jolly jukebox has been stuck on Cliff Richard’s ‘Summer Holiday’ for weeks, which I don’t mind, but, I funded a small party last week. “ Foodge blushed at the memory, although, he’d been so inebriated that the memories were reconstructions from Emmjay, Merv and Fern. “Couldn’t dance, no Cha Cha music!”  He liked to think of himself as a South American lady-killer.

Editors clarification: not actually a killer of South American ladies.

Waz couldn’t help but notice that Foodge had been sitting in the dark with his iPhone and beer. “What are you up to, sitting here all by yourself?” Waz had cocked one eyebrow, but didn’t look like he was going to fire it.

The facial expression was completely lost on Foodge, who was basically an ingénue. “Err…ah… meditating.”

“OK mate, I’ll let you keep on ‘meditating’. Waz started to back out of the doorway, hoping that Merv might happen along and save him from this deviant. “See you mate!!” Waz turned and ran.

Foodge was none the wiser, as he pressed the red button under his armrest, which signalled Merv to return with, yet another, pint of Trotter’s Best! Foodge looked up, once again, to the sound of the door. “Thanks for ‘trotting up’, Merv.” Foodge thought this particularly witty, and was recording it on his new iPhone. He looked up to see that it wasn’t Merv, but young Wes, wearing a ‘Male Nurse’s United’ T-shirt, tracksuit pants and slippers. “Oh…err…young Wes, what the hell are you doing in your pyjamas?”

“I worked at the nursing home last night, which is, in fact, my real job, and just woke up!” Wes settled his considerable frame into the seat next to Foodge. “Have you just rung for service?”

“Yes, I have.” Foodge thought it rather luxuriant being able to ‘ring for service.’

“I’ll run down and get it.” Wes disappeared then emerged through the door about five minutes later with a Trotter’s Ale and a long black. “OK, Foodge, why the urgent meeting?” As he placed the pint on a coaster so that it wouldn’t damage Foodge’s hat.

“Feedback, lad, how’s the case going?” Foodge had his iPhone out ready to jot down points of interest. Foodge, just quietly, was becoming a pain in the arse with that bloody iPhone!

“There’s little to feed back.” Wes sipped on his coffee, frowning slightly, as he’d forgotten to put a dash of cold water in the cup. “They’re all good blokes, hard workin’, respectful of women…you know?”

“I had them pegged as a pack of hooligans, ne’er do wells and dole bludgers.” Foodge seemed to hold fairly strong opinions on surfers. “What about the girl?”

“Imogen? She’s a lovely young lady.” Wes seemed a bit defensive.

“Young lady, she’s a teenager, and we’ve been hired to look after her.”

“No, Foodge, she’s twenty two years old, not a teenager, and, no, doesn’t need looking after. “ Wes wearily replied, as the sound of a bass guitar and drums cut through the stale air. “Ah, the party’s started.”

“What party, no-one told me?” Foodge was indignant.

“The Friday night Pigs Arms party, you know? Warrigal loads up the jukebox with new toons, and we, well, rock on.

The pair made their way down to the main bar where Angles, Lambrettists, and Bowling Ladies were already dancing. Emmjay and First Mate, who couldn’t help themselves, were dressed in evening wear that Emmjay had ‘borrowed’ from the ABC wardrobe – not worn since Jim Dibble retired – and probably not missed either, O’Hoo and Vinh had a romantic table in the corner, whilst Gerard and the mysterious H were, unsuccessfully trying to teach the dancers the samba. Atomou was in a corner lounge trying to convince Lehan, ‘Shoe, Asty and Algy the health benefits of ouzo. Even Janet had brought the twins downstairs to expose them to, what she regarded as, classical music. Julian was upstairs packing for his ‘Isle if Wight trip’.

Merv pushed a pint towards Waz, who sat at the bar, taking it all in. “On the ‘ouse, mate, you don’t know what your Fridee night music mixes mean to us at the Pigs.”

The Katter Came Back

10 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by in Emmjay

≈ 4 Comments

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Borrowed from the Brisvegas ourier Mail

A little bit of Kat doggerel I’ll dedicate to Waz …. with apologies

There’s just the slightest small suggestion
Of a clot with indigestion
And a synapse looking for a big idea.

We often see an outback wonder
With such propensity to blunder
‘Round the bushy Hickville landscape – have no fear.

But what a little smarty,
He is to form a party
Without the need for thinkin’
Beyond huntin’, fishin, drinkin’
And shootin’ half-baked ideas out his barge-arse rear.

But it’s the hat, we’ll hand to Katter
All the other sh*t won’t matter,
We’ve seen the loonies from the deep north come and go

And as we slowly roll a durrie
Take our time – ‘coz there’s no hurry
We can watch the bastard scurry
Through the S-bend
And then gallop quickly past the Overflow

pipe

first published a moment ago at First Dog on the Moon – Crikey.com.au

Sometimes in Winter

10 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by in Warrigal Mirriyuula

≈ 7 Comments

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Snowgum

Playlist and Image by Warrigal Mirriyuula

South Of My Days

Judith Wright

South of my days’ circle, part of my blood’s country,

rises that tableland, high delicate outline

of bony slopes wincing under the winter,

low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite –

clean, lean, hungry country. The creek’s leaf-silenced,

willow choked, the slope a tangle of medlar and crabapple

branching over and under, blotched with a green lichen;

and the old cottage lurches in for shelter.

O cold the black-frost night. The walls draw in to the warmth

and the old roof cracks its joints; the slung kettle

hisses a leak on the fire. Hardly to be believed that summer

will turn up again some day in a wave of rambler-roses,

thrust its hot face in here to tell another yarn –

a story old Dan can spin into a blanket against the winter.

Seventy years of stories he clutches round his bones.

Seventy summers are hived in him like old honey.

Droving that year, Charleville to the Hunter,

nineteen-one it was, and the drought beginning;

sixty head left at the McIntyre, the mud round them

hardened like iron; and the yellow boy died

in the sulky ahead with the gear, but the horse went on,

stopped at the Sandy Camp and waited in the evening.

It was the flies we seen first, swarming like bees.

Came to the Hunter, three hundred head of a thousand —

cruel to keep them alive — and the river was dust.

Or mustering up in the Bogongs in the autumn

when the blizzards came early. Brought them down; we brought them

down, what aren’t there yet. Or driving for Cobb’s on the run

up from Tamworth — Thunderbolt at the top of Hungry Hill,

and I give him a wink. I wouldn’t wait long, Fred,

not if I was you. The troopers are just behind,

coming for that job at the Hillgrove. He went like a luny,

him on his big black horse.

Oh, they slide and they vanish

as he shuffles the years like a pack of conjuror’s cards.

True or not, it’s all the same; and the frost on the roof

cracks like a whip, and the back-log breaks into ash.

Wake, old man. This is winter, and the yarns are over.

No-one is listening.

South of my days’ circle

I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country

full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_kuxwXg0Nmg

Carla Bley & Escalator Over The Hill Hotel Overture

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uQNkFmgyzI

Gato Barbieri Last Tango In Paris

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFWRbXFZvvY&feature=fvst

Mahavishnu Orchestra Vision Is A Naked Sword

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBO2iPDfolY

Hatfield And The North Lobster In Cleavage Probe

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKlAIhuXRLE

Frank Zappa Peaches En Regalia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1NqkFKqt3c

SPK The Garden of Earthly Delights

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wivo94ylmhE

Keith Jarrett Köln Concert

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUUGut4M8Ig

King Crimson The Peacock’s Tale

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUsTY0d1L38

Bo Hansson Solen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0NPlrhINxI

The Durutti Column Sketch For Summer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVZq9Lk2hYQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emd0vJfyk2E&feature=fvwrel

Miles Davis Concierto de Aranjuez Parts 1 & 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEAb8JNfvXs&feature=fvst

Bernard Herrmann Concerto Macabre

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlM1XEIWhsU

FourPLay String Quartet Reptillia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCMotJ4R24k

Bruce Smeaton Realm of The Universe (from “Iceman”)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9kPIp4MtX0

Brian Eno Music For Airports

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1iR965rexM&feature=fvst

Ryuichi Sakamoto Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl1FnycngW8&feature=fvst

Art of Noise Moments In Love (Quiet Storm)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72d5-xP5SnM

Grace Jones & Trevor Horn Slave To The Rhythm

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3nu-qmxM0w

Blood Sweat & Tears Sometimes In Winter

 

Keywords: Carla Bley & Escalator, Gato Barbieri, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Hatfield And The North, Frank Zappa, SPK, Keith Jarrett, King Crimson, Bo Hansson, The Durutti, Miles Davis, Bernard Herrmann, FourPLay String Quartet, Bruce Smeaton, Brian Eno, Ryuichi Sakamoto,  Art of Noise, Grace Jones, Trevor HornBlood, Sweat & Tears

Like Peas in a Pod

10 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by in Gerard Oosterman

≈ 8 Comments

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Like peas in a Pod

June 10, 2011 by gerard oosterman

Anyone having visited the main supermarkets of late could not but have noticed that we as consumers have now entered a totally new world of devastating health. Gone are the bleak advertisements of chocolate bars or croissants. It’s all health, health and more health. Giant posters of apples, Pink Ladies or Jonathans, all pink and roseate, viridian green Granny Smiths, a tsunami of huge fruits have now been posted and pasted on every square metre of wall or window at the supermarket entrances. Let’s not also forget the vegetables though. Yesterday at Aldi’s there where peas in their pods so well photographed and blown up in size they almost looked dangerous.

There is now the push on in earnest for all to get violently healthy and no excuse for getting girths above the OBM measurements anymore. This is how so often things are handled. Obesity as a result of supermarkets pushing very profitable but dodgy foods still continue as ever but a veneer of concern for robust health is cleverly being promoted.

Those giant posters of fruit and veggies not only soothes those that have genuine concern for the millions of overweight people but it soothes above all the shopper thinking that entering the supermarket now delivers them from junk food. The mood is set in believing all is well and their shopping continues as before. The trolley still features the same cooking sauces, the same chips, biscuits, choky brekkies and other high carbon junk foods. The relentless race to diabetes goes on and the millions of overweight no doubt will queue our surgeries and hospitals as never before.

A cooking and food expert interviewed on ABC FM radio gave an account of a person faced with a fish and a saucepan and could not relate that to cook the fish it needed to be placed in the saucepan and heat applied. Jamie Oliver some time ago travelled through UK schools and found some children could not identify the potato. They simply thought it came in golden coloured strips.
Despite all those TV shows and all the cookery books with millions watching and reading, cooking wholesome meals at home is getting less. Just because our large Mansions now have Caesar stone kitchen benches, butcher blocks and huge knifes hanging from the wall, doesn’t mean that families sit down to eat a well cooked and healthy meal.

On the ABC program of QA, the panel was asked why Solariums were not being banned. The answer; It is a State issue and there are many warnings on the use of Solariums causing cancer anyway.
Apparently a similar answer was given on junk foods with the opinion that ‘surely’ adults can make up their own mind and take care that their children eat healthy foods and don’t become obese. We ‘should all exercise good and healthy choices’ and that should not ever be taken away by banning junk food ads during children TV, one opposition minister , Christopher Pyne, suggested. This was also T. Abbott’s refrain when health minister during the Howard reign.

No one came up that ‘the free choice’ available for decades had not resulted in improved dietary habits. Would it not be prudent to try something else? Free choice also gave us thousands clogging hospitals with people dying from smoking. It was tackled very successfully. Plain packaging again will lower the number picking up smoking and many will give the habit up.
Surely, with food, the same can be tried. No-one wants to deny a chocolate or the biscuit, the frozen meal or the soft drink. But why not have those foods costing more and made less attractive. Much of the junk food exterior packaging are depicted with images of healthy food while in fact the food inside is just rubbish of very dubious nutritional value.

Could we include much more dietary advice with perhaps a star system the same as on white goods. The Mars Bar a single star, the apple or stick of celery 5 stars. I read that at Saturday school sports, the tuck shops still sell sausage rolls and junk sugar stuff that no one seems to question. Kids don’t buy the treats if they are healthy, some complained. Well, let them go hungry and see if they will get into the apple or fruit salad, the chicken and cheese or egg and tomato sandwich?

The check-out counter inevitably pushed the worst of junk foods and many a mother despair going through without the child throwing a tantrum for another sweet crunchy bar or sugary drink. At petrol station we are exhorted to spend another $5, – to get another 4 cent per litre of petro discount. The extra money is for either soft drink combined with sweet bars etc. Again, a pushing of junk food is featured. It is wrong, wrong, wrong.
When it comes to ‘free choice’ we are in the grip of very clever advertising giants with millions to spend which drives us now in  their clutches, dressed up with good health posters . The ‘free choice’ morphs us all into very obedient but overweight people.

The E coli and why mainly Women?

08 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 32 Comments

 

The recent outbreak of E-coli whereby over twenty have died and thousands taken ill has baffled many. However, what is most interesting for those that study outbreaks of public diseases, is that it seemed to affect mainly women. Now that enough time has passed some of the puzzling pieces have been found to fit together.

The e-coli bacteria are everywhere to be found and our bodies generally have anti-bodies that fight most diseases including the E coli nasties. This strain of E coli was strangely different and way out of the ‘norm’, very toxic and a new kid on the block. The normal arsenal of anti-biotic medications didn’t seem to work very well and authorities were scrambling to get a handle on the outbreak.

http://healthmad.com/conditions-and-diseases/europe-on-high-alert-as-deadly-cucumbers-kill-10-germans/

The culprit was at first thought to be Spanish cucumbers.  On TV were shown endless footage of crates of very nice looking cucumbers being dumped into large containers, followed by equal dumping of beautiful, very red and luscious looking tomatoes. Some of the cucumber exporters were immediately thrown out of the business and fridges everywhere were emptied from cucumbers. Not a fruit and veggie shop dared to display cucumbers and even tomatoes were shunned.

There were expert opinions popping up from everywhere. Many televised interviews with very serious looking but world- wide respected epidemical professors, including even a lengthy debate on the very revered and estimable Tom Lehrer News Hour. The chemical complexities of the toxins were discussed and the best advice that was offered was the old trusted stand by, ‘wash your hands and your vegetables.’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQqIIvBW4-k

The sale of lettuce spinners sky rocketed and manufacturers were working feverishly on future gadgets that could be linked to a safer and better way of dealing with vegetables, combined of course, to million dollar instant profits.

The attention then moved from Spain over the Pyreneans to Germany. Many had been taken ill and some had even died. It was starting to look very worrying but the experts were starting to hone in to finding the real culprit. The Spanish cucumbers were mightily relieved and even the tomatoes were given the all clear. In fact Spain was not found to have been responsible. Who would have thought the Germans were responsible for this E coli outbreak? The well disciplined German vegetable growers?  How could that be?

Spain is furious and has now taken to demanding compensation from Germany for having cast aspersions on the Spanish in the first place. The cucumber and tomato growers and export merchants in Spain will push for more than just an Olé!

This time, with the news media hurriedly flown to Germany, footage of a German restaurant was shown were many of the sick had been tucking away, eating nourishing meals, no doubt washed down with a well filled stein of frothy beer. The restaurant owner, while glaring defiantly into the camera, was shown munching on a fistful of lettuce leaves.  A gesture so comic and, like so much of real life,  also desperately sad. He knew his restaurant was verging on total collapse. Can you imagine the whole world watching and being focussed on his enterprise and on his bean sprouts?

Bean sprouts were found to have been the culprit and again footage was shown of the suspect bean sprout farm. This time the camera seemed to peer through some undergrowth and it was all a bit secretive. Perhaps the owner bean sprout farmer had been tipped off and was lying low behind some bushes, hoping to wait it all out, his wife hurriedly had made him sandwiches and a thermos of coffee?

Anyway, since then the mystery of why mainly women had succumbed to this E coli outbreak was also solved.

Women eat salads far more than men.

Men concentrate on meat, women on salads. Amazing, isn’t it? So simple was the answer. It is true. Go to any restaurant and men far more than women will order meaty dishes, while women gravitate to quiches or dishes with salads or vegetables. This concentration of eating meat by men is also often accompanied by silence. No mere words must interfere with meat eating. Many a woman must despair when they go out with partners and the meal is eaten in total silence. The steak is hoed into by the male, not a single word spoken, with the burning candle flickering away the only indication of a hoped for lingering romantic evening.

Cynical males might well respond and say that the preferred eating of vegetables or salads by women is because they fear weight gain and will eat rather a thinly sliced cucumber with some lettuce than risk putting on a single ounce.  Getting E coli seems a very and unnecessary cruel punishment.

Just wash your hands and your vegetables.

Blue Dolphins, golden dolphins and get stuffed here.

04 Saturday Jun 2011

Posted by in Gerard Oosterman

≈ 32 Comments

The delights of Nelson Bay here in NSW are enjoyed by hundreds of thousands who will end up renting holiday accommodation available but always in short supply. Signs galore everywhere and the closer to water’s edge the more prolific the signage.

Nelson Bay I remember driving to some years ago. We were invited by our neighbour opposite us when still living in Balmain. It is just a bit North from Newcastle, she advised us. It was a considerable ‘bit more’ and as always the last bit takes the mostest. I remember it was a lovely if not a somewhat boozy week-end with many partying the week-end away.

This time around the accommodation was pre-booked on-line and pre-paid without any trouble. One gets many photos and previous quests comments all on-line giving the distance from beach -water, how many bedrooms, all the technical gizmos including size of TV screen, dishwasher cycles, micro-wave, reverse cycle air-con.  The wonders of the internet have many advantages.

Driving there also a cinch complements of GPS stuck especially for the occasion on the front screen. ‘You are over the speed limit’ from a pleasant English voice warning us every now and then.  It even warns you to ‘stay left’ 3 kilometres before the actual left turning event. It remains a puzzle how I ever found Nelson’s Bay all those many years ago.

About twenty kilometres before arrival one knows that Nelson Bay is getting close. There are now a profusion of hoardings with water sports and dolphins sprouting up wherever there is a bit of vacant bush still available. We passed a house which had a giant golden dolphin fastened on a trailer. Where this dolphin would be hauled to and what it would end up advertising would be anyone’s guess.

 It seems that most go there to either race around on jet skis, watch cavorting dolphins or eat ‘to get stuffed’. It defies how anyone could be enticed to eat at a place advertising ‘A Hog’s Breath’, showing a pig’s snout, but at Nelson’s Bay anything goes.  I suppose all those water activities makes for such a dire and urgent hunger that an advertisement to eat at ‘Ernie’s dung pile’ would be chockers with starving hordes.

We all had a fantastic lunch at a place that I often wished there were more off. It was at the Northern end of Nelson’s Bay in a pub overhanging the water. Perhaps it was called the Blue Dolphin. It did have dolphins featured in the design of the carpet. Anyway, nice tables with white linen and a superb dish of flat-head crumbed and cooked to perfection with a salad and crunchie chips. Below us, there were activities of boats getting ready with hoisting giant lobster pots and fixing long-lines. Those long lines are fitted with GPS’ as well; I was told by my brother, who does a lot of volunteering watching and reporting on whales. All those boats fishing with long lines have those lines fitted with GPS’ which then sends continuous rapports out to Canberra of their positions.  

I hope the fish caught by that method appreciate the technology! At one stage a group of school kids arrived with their teachers. I suppose it was a private school with the girls in those long Jane Austen skirts and the boys in long beige coloured pants and fancy jackets. They were taught to put bait on and throw the line in. All those activities were below our window while we tucked into our flatheads.

No-one there that ordered lunch was drinking beer. Beer drinking in pubs is dying. The latest figures out show a disastrous decline in beer consumption which is balanced by the increase in wine quaffing.

  It is a sign of the times.

All Hat and No Cattle

03 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by in Warrigal Mirriyuula

≈ 48 Comments

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Blue Dog in a Ute

Painting and Playlist by Warrigal Mirriyuula

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MSWUYvCPhs

Marsha Thornton A Bottle of Wine And Patsy Cline

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzq5X-p2C0Y

Patsy Cline Crazy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rVKCtwWkOc

Tom T Hall The Man Who Shot Himself

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yv85cxxANqY

George Strait If You’re Thinkin’ You Want A Stranger

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6wBxQVBozI

Shania Twain and Willy Nelson Blue Eyes Cryin’ In The Rain

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4z_rtZx8J0

The Flying Burrito Brothers Wild Horses

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JEJNKqo70g&feature=related

Kinky Freidman They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVyYrhyqyUY

Red Sovine The Phantom 309 (I love the animation of the Mack. Sweet!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JimkgLICOuQ

Tompall Glaser Sold American (I would have preferred Kinky’s original Grammy winner but it’s not on Youtube.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvZeYDBY4fw

Waylon Jennings Luchenbach Texas (This one’s for Dave Dawson. I remember all those drunken nights at the Lone Star mate. I’ve still got the postcard you sent.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcBOcwgb4OA&feature=related

Jerry Jeff Walker Up Against The Wall You Redneck Mothers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOP8j8vJAkE&feature=related

David Allan Coe Long Haired Redneck

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL9O0B0gzZE&feature=related

Jimmy Buffett Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08e9k-c91E8&feature=related

The Soggy Bottom Boys I Am A man Of Constant Sorrow

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djYz6p3i-t0

Rodney Carrington Dear Penis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4s3bT-Gk6I

Tom T Hall Old Dogs And Children, And Watermelon Wine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djsxpROEKCM

George Strait I Get Along With You

 

Keywords: Marsha Thornton, Patsy Cline, Tom T Hall, George Strait, Shania Twain, Willy Nelson, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Kinky Freidman, Red Sovine, Tompall Glaser, Waylon Jennings, Jerry Jeff Walker, David Allan Coe, Jimmy Buffett, The Soggy Bottom Boys, Rodney Carrington

The Problem of Kids and Cash

01 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in Scott

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

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Story by Scott

As someone who has been personally involved in both the child support system and the family law legal system, albeit briefly, it seems to me that there are some odd features of the way that we try to solve the problems of family separating in Australia. This has been reinforced over the years by my professional contact with scores of families and individuals going through the same process.

In general, if there are going to be serious problems, there most often seems to be two issues preoccupying families when there is parental separation. The first is money, the second is contact with children and parents.  We have a solution for each of these issues in Australia, the solution for the money situation being the Child Support Agency, with the Family Law Court (including the process of mediation) being the solution in place for the second.

I am not intending to make any gross or sweeping criticism of either of these mechanisms; there are many who have commented on these processes here and elsewhere. My opinion is that both of these have been generally improved in recent years, although no doubt there are further changes to come, and some are unhappy with the changes made to date. My criticism is really about the fact that these processes are largely independent, and work on vastly different time scales to each other.

On one hand there is the child support system, which operates on a reasonably informal basis. One party – usually the one to be supported, and usually the female ex-partner of a relationship – makes a claim for child support. The Child Support Agency (CSA) contacts the other party, confirms details of income and related issues, and a payment rate is calculated according to formulae set out in federal legislation. The formulae allow for exceptions such as exclusion of second jobs or overtime for financial recovery of the payer, direct payments between carers, and so on.

On the other hand, there is the Family Law Court system, which operates in the way that most legal issues do: very slowly. Issues in the courts are, by definition, adversarial, and prone to all manner of delays as well as delaying tactics by the participants. The use of mediation in order to avoid issues going to court has been a very good development, however this too is prone to be drawn out, with sometimes long waiting periods and vulnerable to being used as a delaying tactic by one party or the other.

There are some obvious problems resulting from the lack of symmetry in the two decision-making processes. Supporting parents can be deprived of contact with their children for extended periods of time, whilst waiting for resolution of their family law cases. Custodial parents on the other hand are more or less free to change the circumstances of access – for example, move from the local area or arbitrarily change arrangements – without having to consider that they may have obligations to the other parent, at the same time continuing to receive support payments. It is true that non-custodial parents can apply for orders restricting this, however on consulting their solicitor they will be told that this costs at least several thousand dollars, and likely will not be upheld on being heard in the court. The cost of a full Family Law Court case is usually estimated in the range of $35,000 or above, for each party. This may not include the cost of independent psychological assessments which may be quoted as costing upwards of $5,000.

This is not a situation that was intended by either the courts or the authorities who established the CSA. The great differences in the speed of determination of these matters however cause great greif to some people caught up in them, and some clear inequities. Supporting parents may find themselves paying support for children that they rarely see, or for whom access visits are erratic and unpredictable, according to the whim of the custodial parent. Besides the cost of launching family law action, there is a considerable time lag – 18 month to two years being a figure often given by solicitors to their clients.

It would be much better if both the issues could be ruled on in the same time frame, with matters of access decided at the time that the issue of child support payments were calculated. The issue of access is no doubt impossible to calculate mathematically, as is done for support payments, however there is no reason to suppose that some fairly obvious guidelines cannot be used as a basis for decision-making. The decisions would be made by a tribunal or panel, and be legally binding. Of course, either party – or interested third parties – would be able to appeal the decision through the courts, but in the interim there would be surety about how access and support are both to proceed.

The decisions could include support payments, access and custody arrangements, and permissible variations to living arrangements such as whether the custodial parent could move out of the area or how variations to access arrangement could be made. Importantly, parties failing to meet the conditions of the ruling without sufficient cause could be sanctioned by losing either access rights or financial support, and caused to correct their actions. This way either party would have their responsibilities to the child reinforced in a timely, legally binding way, without removing the right to the use of the courts. Indeed, as far as I am aware there is currently no right of appeal regarding child support payments at all, something felt to be unfair in many quarters. This arrangement would change that situation.

No doubt there are many who think this idea flawed. At first glance it might seem that there will be less business for lawyers, however I think that, sadly enough for the children involved, this would not be true. Many may think that this system would be an unreasonable impingement of personal freedoms, or while others may think that it is not strict or formulaic enough. Mainly my interest is to see people released from the purgatory of the courts whilst gaining some reassurance over their custody or contact with their children.

Foodge 25 – Foodge Goes Under Cover

01 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

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By Big M

Merv stood behind the Main Bar absent-mindedly drying glasses with a tea towel, and that’s when it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Foodge for, not one, but two days. Foodge annoyed Merv much of the time, but, now in his absence Merv realised that he missed the goofy ‘private detective’. Merv hadn’t had much time, until now, to think about Foodge. Two coach loads of tourists had been in yesterday seeking the authentic ‘Inner West Pub Experience’, whatever that was supposed to be, but nevertheless a big money spinner, plus Bowling Ladies this morning, which stretched to ‘luncheon’, with ‘drinky poos’.  Janet had been at him to mind the twins during the day so that she could get some rest, as she’d only had nine hours sleep the night before. Poor Merv couldn’t get away from the bar, so Granny seized the opportunity to take the babies for a stroll to the park.

Merv tried to pour himself a lemon-lime ‘n’ bitters, but, all he got from the bar gun was cold, flat water, so, stuck his head under the bar to hook up a new cylinder of carbon dioxide. This went surprisingly smoothly for Merv, with only two scraped knuckles and a couple of curses. He emerged from under the bar to be greeted by the strangest sight; Foodge clad in Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, short brown socks and brown brogues. The outfit was completed with a pair of wrap around sunglasses. “Ah, Foodge!” Blurted Merv, struggling to suppress a belly laugh.

“Not Foodge.’ Winked Foodge. “Undercover…big case…surf gang.” As he tapped the side of his nose with his finger. “Buddy ‘n’ Coke thanks, bartender.”

“Sure you don’t want a pint?”

“No, young people drink buddy.”

“I think you’ll find that’s ‘Bundy’ Foodge…sorry…sir.” Merv topped up the glass from the bar gun, only it wasn’t real Coke, or Pepsi, it was based on a syrup based on trial and error, more error, in fact, but, nevertheless generated a carbonated fluid that looked like coke, but had a flavour that was neither pleasant or sweet.

Foodge sat at the bar, and thirstily tugged at the straw. “So, bartender, any surfers in here today?”

“Well, given that we’re an hour and a half from the nearest beach by Sydney’s excellent public transport, well…no.” Merv applied a couple of bandaids to his skinned knuckles.

“Righto, thanks for the heads up. I’ll broaden my enquiries to some locale closer to the beach.

“Foodge, mate, I’ve got to tell you, you look like an English school teacher on ‘olidee’ in Ibiza. Has it occurred to you that infiltrating a surf gang may not be the easiest thing for a man of your age, pallor and sartorial taste?” Merv had started to pour another Bundy ‘n’ Coke, unasked.

“Could have a point” Reflected Foodge, remembering back to his last day at the beach when his swimming trunks had been torn off as he was dumped by a wave, and he had to wait for a lifesaver to swim out with a towel so he could maintain some semblance of dignity, much to the chagrin of the lifesavers on patrol.  That was the last time he would ever borrow a pair of yellow crocheted speedos from Emmjay.

“You’re right, I need to employ someone else, Fern, maybe?

“No, mate, fingernails.” Merv held up his bid, disfigured hand, wiggling his fingers.

“Emmjay?” Foodge raised his eyebrows in askance.

“He’s fit, he bodysurfs, but he’s no ‘surfer’.”

“I know, O’Hoo!” Foodge’s face lit up.

“You can’t employ a copper to do PI work.” Merv retorted as the area behind the bar darkened, as if subject to some local eclipse of the sun. Young Wes stepped through the doorway, and started to make himself a long black on the coffee machine. “Young Wes.” Merv nodded. “Djagetsum sleep?”

“Yeah, Uncle Merv. Fancy dress, Foodge.” Wes looked over the coffee machine at the comic figure before him.

“No, undercover.” Foodge shook his head and removed the sunglasses. “Make it a pint of best, this time, Merv. What are you doing sleeping during the day?”

“Assistant in Nursing at the Rissole (RSL) Nursing Home, doing two nights a week…love it!” Wes added a little cold water to his steaming mug. “Had a long term patient die last night, a bit upsetting, but he was ready to go.” Wes took a sip.

“Oh…err…what do you, err…do…” Foodge was uncomfortable talking about death, which seemed odd for a PI.

“Oh, just make them comfortable, hold their hand, if there are no relos around. Captain Rawlings’ daughter stayed until the end.” Wes was very respectful towards his patients, always calling them ‘mister’, or ‘sir’, unless they wanted to be named by rank.

Foodge thought it paradoxical that Wes, who was built like a brick outhouse, and had bested bikies, former boxers, and various unsavoury characters in his capacity as Pigs Arms bouncer, could be so gentle. “Well, I’m looking for someone to do some casual work, for me, as a PI, you interested?”

“Mid-semester break is coming up.” Wes stared into his mug. “ I was planning to take the bike for a run to visit mum.”

“I can make it worth your while, two ‘C’ notes a day, plus expenses.” Foodge tended to lapse into 1940’s Private Dick-speak, every now and then.

“What do I have to do?” Wes was warming to the idea of being a private dick for a week.

“Infiltrate the surf gang known as the Cronulla Sharks and warn them off this.” Foodge fished an iPhone out of his pocket, and expertly navigated to a photo of a tall, pretty blond teenager, who would likely fill out to become a tall, blond, beautiful model.

Both Merv and Wes were aghast that Foodge, not only owned a mobile, but that he could actually use the damned thing! “Who’s the chick?”  Wes was very interested.

“Imogen Stapleton, heiress to the Stapleton Mining fortune, who, incidentally, is underage.” Foodge glared at Wes. “Has been hanging around these surfers. I’ve been employed by the family’s solicitor to warn them off. By the way, Wes, can you surf?”

“Shortboard, Mal, boogyboard, bodysurf, anything really.” Wes shrugged his shoulders. “When do I start?”

Foodge held up his glass. ”How about right now?”