Smokin!

Smokers! Enjoy it while it lasts people.

A few of my mates are smokers.

“Mate, just cos they change the packaging, it won’t stop me from smoking.”
Ha ha ha! Have you seen the new packs? Holy fuckamoley. They look like they could give you eye cancer just looking at them. They are truuuly, truly horrific.

Imagine being in the focus group for that...

“Well that one makes me feel physically ill, but that one makes me want to tear out my own eyeballs. Ohh, I just can’t make up my mind!”

One mate said that if the pack’s too gross to look at, he’ll just buy a cover to put them in. But with the hardline the government is taking on em, it’s probably only a matter of time before the covers have to be adorned with warnings. Inevitably, there’ll be a subsequent cover, then another warning, followed by another cover then another warning, and it’ll go on and on and on until every time you want to smoke, you ‘ll have to play and increasingly morbid game of pass the parcel.

“Oh! Oh my! Yuk! Gross! Oh my god! Jesus that’s horrible! WHAT IS THAT!!! Oh yeah, it’s Malborough time.”

Personally, I don’t think it’s gone far enough. Sure the packets are covered in open wounds, but is that really enough? I wanna see tombstones on the paper. How about green smoke? A little stock in the filter that makes a death rattle whenever you inhale? These are all good ideas, and I reckon it’s only a matter of time before we see em.

Cos it’s a hard line they’re taking on smokes. And I’m pretty sure the only reason they’ll stop short of getting a thug to whack you over the head every time you light up, is because they know the pain would remind you you’re still alive. And that’s the last thing they want.

Smokin!

Smokers! Enjoy it while it lasts people.

A few of my mates are smokers.

“Mate, just cos they change the packaging, it won’t stop me from smoking.”

Ha ha ha! Have you seen the new packs? Holy fuckamoley. They look like they could give you eye cancer just looking at them. They are truuuly, truly horrific.

Imagine being in the focus group for that.

“Well that one makes me feel physically ill, but that one makes me want to tear out my own eyeballs. Ohh, I just can’t make up my mind!”

One mate said that if the pack’s too gross to look at, he’ll just buy a cover to put them in. But with the hardline the government is taking on em, it’s probably only a matter of time before the covers have to be adorned with warnings. Inevitably, there’ll be a subsequent cover, then another warning, followed by another cover then another warning, and it’ll go on and on and on until every time you want to smoke, you ‘ll have to play and increasingly morbid game of pass the parcel.

“Oh! Oh my! Yuk! Gross! Oh my god! Jesus that’s horrible! WHAT IS THAT!!! Oh yeah, it’s Malborough time.”

Personally, I don’t think it’s gone far enough. Sure the packets are covered in open wounds, but is that really enough? I wanna see tombstones on the paper. How about green smoke? A little stock in the filter that makes a death rattle whenever you inhale? These are all good ideas, and I reckon it’s only a matter of time before we see em.

Cos it’s a hard line they’re taking on smokes. And I’m pretty sure the only reason they’ll stop short of getting a thug to whack you over the head every time you light up, is because they know the pain would remind you you’re still alive. And that’s the last thing they want.

I DIDN'T VOTE FOR POKIE LICENSES!!!

I didn’t vote for Pokie Licenses. Although to be fair, I don’t remember seeing his name on the ballot.

It’s become the catch cry of democratic Australia.

“I didn’t vote for this, that, OR the other!”

People seem to have forgotten that a vote is a show of faith in a political party to make decisions on your behalf. What follows when they take power is incidental. That’s how life works. You don’t date Matt Newton to learn how to box, sometimes that’s just the natural order of things.

I’ve accepted the pokie license thing. Even though I didn’t vote for it. Because I also didn’t vote for flood relief. I didn’t vote for a compassionate trip to Japan following a nuclear accident. I didn’t vote for a tax to stop global warming. You might say, ‘Well Rich, isn’t that because you didn’t vote?’ I’d have to say yes, but only so I could keep my “I didn’t vote for…” options open.

Another great one is the classic “Our Anzacs didn’t give their lives for …” You know, gay marriage, Islamic Australia, cooking shows around the clock. Of course they didn’t. Had they been fighting for that, it would of shown INCREDIBLE forsight. Although, I reckon if they’d had that kind of foresight, they might not have ended up on a Turkish beach in the first place.

But the thing is, maybe they did die for this. For a gay, Muslim, Nisoise salad.
If you’ve been to Gallipoli, you’ll know the trenches snake up from the beach all the way to the top of the hill. Maybe what happened, is all the soldiers were lined up in the trenches, An at the very top of the hill was a guy with a little table and a deck of tarot cards, and one by one the soldiers looked into the future and saw that it was worth dying for.

“Two blokes kissing in a church? Yep? Over you go.

“A choice of religions? Yep? Go forth my boy.

“Fat guy in a cravat? Yep? Give your life and it shall be.”

The Mark of Emotion.

I recently witnessed the pinnacle of human achievement.

It wasn't a scientific breakthrough. It wasn't a moment of incomparable selflessness. It wasn't an emotionally inspiring piece of art.

It was a mark in the forward pocket by an Essendon player at the MCG. There was 87 000 people there, all screaming for their team. And in that one moment as he rose above the pack and took hold of the ball firmly against his chest, it was the greatest accomplishment ever achieved by man kind.

Now as I sit at my desk three weeks later, I appreciate I might have got a bit carried away. I know it wasn't the best thing mankind has ever done. That was Weekend at Bernie's 2. But in that moment, nothing else seemed like it had ever been as important as that one mark.

I think it's a pretty special experience to feel like that. I guess that's why just watching sport is so richly rewarding. But every activity has that. Watching a play. Eating a meal. Making love. There's a magical moment where nothing else can compare. Although I don't think it's always a moment of inspiration.

It might be a mercy killing. It could be lying to a court. It surely has been at times a cruel and inhumane act. But in that one moment it seems so right to whoever is involved. There is clarity and there is justification. And we can never truly appreciate what has gone on in a persons mind in that moment. We are animals, blinded to everything surrounding us by our emotions. Unfortunately, we are not so empathetic that we can feel what it was like for that person in that moment.

That's why people's travel stories are boring unless we've been there. It's why we can't know what it's like to be a parent til we become one ourselves. It's the reason why someone says "She's gone." and as we hold them, we think 'Here we go...'

Not funny, or point-y, just something interesting about emotion and the human condition.

The "Hide the Ham" Game

Keeping sibling rivalry fresh can be difficult. Once you've left sand in their bed, changed their girlfriends number to your's in their mobile and set their wallet in jelly, it can be hard to come up with new things. A recent trip home for our dad's 60th presented a new opportunity. A rogue piece of ham was left over after a typically indulgent Brophy family lunch, and the only way from stopping myself from eating it was coming up with a more satisfying using of it. And so Hide the Ham came to be. The game is pretty straight forward.

1. Take one piece of ham.

2. Hide it somewhere in your siblings belongings. It should be somewhere that they have a chance to find it before it starts to smell, but not necessarily.

3. Once they find it, they hide it in your belongings, and the game continues.

I'm staying with my brother for a month during the Melbourne comedy festival, so stay tuned for the increasingly hides and seeks of Hide the Ham.

Play it yourself and let me know how it goes!

If you don't read this, someone you know will.

Everything causes cancer. Red wine. White wine. No wine. Whining. Winning. Losing. Soothing. Moving. Standing still. There's an old saying, the more you know (that causes cancer), the more you know you don't know (that causes cancer). I'm pretty sure that's the saying anyway.

There's more and more cancer being found thanks to advancements in the field of diagnosis. But I'm not sure that's the only reason. Maybe we're just a bit weaker than we used to be. My old man spent his childhood without suncream. He'd get burnt to a crisp day after day of each long Australian summer. He got skin cancer. But only once. I've spent my whole life putting cream on, along with most of my generation, and one of my mates has just been diagnosed with skin cancer.

It makes me think. Does suncream stop skin cancer? No. Does suncream cause skin cancer? Maybe.

That would be weird. Remember the old black and white footage of kids in a pool being sprayed with asbestos to prove it was safe? That went pretty pear-shaped.

But what if suncream does cause cancer? Years of government warnings to Slip, slop, slap.

Apply it liberally. Put it all over your face. Put it on the childern. Lots of it. On their faces. Rub it in. Into their faces.

That'd be pretty hard core. And not particularly amusing. Unless you're twisted. But it's 37 degrees today and I'm about to go to the beach. I think I'll take my chances with suncream.

booze news for youse.

Okay Australia, I think you've had enough.

You've been drinking all day and you're a mess. Look at you. You're dehydrated. You're abusive. You're getting in fights and you're spending money you don't have. That's enough.

It's a common claim that alcohol is ruining this country. Crime. Violence. Domestic abuse. Car crashes. The drink's got a hold on us, but we can't hold it. Makes sense. But I don't think we should blame alcohol. Alcohol's done great things in the past. It's social lubricancy has kept the cogs of society running smooth for years. It's responsible for the birth of many of us. And at least once a year we read a great story about an elephant eating old berries and going on a rampage (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21432722/from/ET/). Alcohol's getting a bad wrap.

Alcohol isn't ruining Australia, Australia's ruining alcohol.

Our inability to stop when we're in a decent state makes us a country of messy boozers. It's not enough to get drunk, we need to get DRUUUUU(hic!)UUUUUUNK!

Why?

Is it the last thing we grab on to at night to prove our prowess in the macho arena?

"Six cocksucking cowboy's thanks"

Maybe.

Is it because we're rebelling against measures to slow down our drinking?

"I'm gonna stick it to the man. But first I'm gonna have one more..."

Possibly.

Is it because it's 'part of our culture'?

"Happy 21st. It's a funnel of goon."

Surely.

What ever the reason, it's no good excuse. We egg one another on to get blind, then we do stupid shit and blame alcohol. If alcohol had a choice, he wouldn't be mates with us after all the shit we lay on him.

Who crashed the car? Not me, I blame the alcohol. I didn't cheat on you honey, alcohol did. Nah, alcohol brought that street sign home.

I'm just saying sometimes it's not alcohols fault. It's yours, dickhead.

But only sometimes.

Cheers.