relationDips: Crabs

It may be hard to fathom at the outset how a post about relationships would involve crabs other than the obvious allusion to sexually transmitted parasites, aka pubic lice. Let's therefore have a close inspection of the crab as one of God's creatures.

Crabs are decapod (10 limbs) crustaceans of the infraorder Brachyura. Found in all the world's oceans, in freshwater and on land, they are generally covered in a thick exoskeleton and range in size from the Pea Crab (just a few millimetres wide) to the Japanese Spider Crab which has a leg span of up to 4m-yes, I said four metres. There are 850 species of crab worldwide. They walk sideways because of the articulation of their legs, use very complex communication systems and are sexually dimorphic. I love sexual dimorphicism. Humans likewise display obvious physical differences between the two undisputed genders. Calm down. I'm not here to debate that issue. I'm talking about crabs.

Pubic lice are small, flat light brown parasites that cling to pubic hair and suck blood for nourishment. It goes without saying that if you have sex with someone who has these crabs, you will get them. It goes without saying that if you only have one partner who also only has you, and the two of you practice normal hygiene, pubic lice won't be a problem for you. Relax. I'm not here to sermonize about sexual immorality. I'm talking about crabs.

My wife loves seafood so the other day while shopping at Mr Barra she had to have one of the live mud crabs they were selling. I think crabs are more trouble than they are worth. They have so little meat on them, and it's so difficult and time consuming to extract it that I can't see the point. Furthermore, the price was alarming: $65 per kilo. I said nothing as my wife chose her crab, then finished her seafood purchases. I said nothing when said purchases totalled quite a sum of money. I just paid because she works hard, she likes crabs and I thought she deserved a treat. She was thrilled; both by my silence and on the appearance of my card to pay.

Crabs can be quite aggressive and are considered to be ill humoured and selfish creatures. Hence someone with a negative and selfish attitude is said to have a crab mentality. We also describe someone who is angry or even grumpy as being crabby.

What conclusions can be drawn from all this information? Certain crabs are good for relationships while others are not. Most sane people would eschew all contact with pubic lice. Many people of varying degrees of sanity like to eat the feisty crustaceans. We may not admire much about their behaviour, but here's the take home lesson: don't get crabs (pubic lice), don't be a crab, and be willing to overcome your negativity about eating crabs if it proves to be a blessing to your partner.

Finally and most importantly, good relationships do take a lot of hard work, but unlike eating, crabs the effort is absolutely worth it.

The Mirror: The Way of all Flesh

You've probably heard the expression 'gone the way of all flesh' meaning that someone has died. However, you may not know that this expression comes from the Old Testament. Check out Joshua 22:14 and 1 Kings 2:2 which say, depending on the translation, 'go the way of all the earth' or 'go the way of all flesh.' I did not know this until I researched it for this post, but I'm not surprised, as many common sayings are either bible quotes or bastardizations of them.

The title of Samuel Butler's classic semi autobiographical novel, The Way of all Flesh, is then a most appropriate title because the protagonist is a clergyman. Written by Butler between 1873 and 1884, the novel is an attack on Victorian era hypocrisy.

Classic novels may not be your thing, and I suspect it's probably because of the writing style. Being lexically dense, with old fashioned words and extremely long and complex sentences doesn't always facilitate easy reading, but I love this stuff. The themes explored by Butler in The Way of all Flesh: hypocrisy, religion, faith, atheism, nature versus nurture and family dynamics may well be oft explored ideas, but the classics have a precision and depth in their language use which is, although not rare in modern novels, certainly different. We should remember classical writers were not competing with nor were they influenced by film and television. In any case, the skill of the writer in dealing with universal themes to which everyone can relate, is to challenge the view of the reader; to make them think.

I've been posting quotes from The Way of all Flesh regularly on Facebook, since I began reading it. When I read something and I have stop, and re read it, and contemplate it, allowing it to filter through my worldview, I know I am reading quality and inspired writing. The quote I want to share in this post is one I found particularly pertinent as I am currently facilitating the journey of another group of men through the Valiant Man sexual discipleship program. This quote contains information about the main character which may be considered a 'spoiler'.

"Although in the healthy atmosphere of such a school as Roughborough you can have come across contaminating influences; you were probably, I may say certainly, impressed at school with the heinousness of any attempt to depart from the strictest chastity until such time as you had entered into a state of matrimony. At Cambridge you were shielded from impurity by every obstacle which virtuous and vigilant authorities could devise, and even had the obstacles been fewer, your parents probably took care that your means should not admit of your throwing money away upon abandoned characters. At night proctors patrolled the street and dogged your steps if you tried to go into any haunt where the presence of vice was suspected. By day the females who were admitted within the college walls were selected mainly on the score of age and ugliness. It is hard to see what more can be done for any young man than this. 

For the last four or five months you have been a clergyman, and if a single impure thought had still remained within your mind, ordination should have removed it: nevertheless, not only does it appear that your mind is as impure as though none of the influences to which I have referred had been brought to bear upon it, but it seems as though their only result had been this-that you have not even the common sense to be able to distinguish between a respectable girl and a prostitute."

What I like about this quote is that it very accurately displays the ignorance and arrogance of men regarding sexuality. Good men get into trouble when they forget they are men. Most men are good at being providers for and defenders of their loved ones, but we are also good at ignoring danger and pandering to our weaknesses and addictions. It never ends well for the man who cannot control his sex drive.

A Dog's Eye: I'm sick (of it)

Sheep are very social animals which like hanging out together and among which there is very little dominance or aggression. They run from danger (sensible) and stick together in a large tight group for protection (also good strategy). These behaviours form part of what is known as "flock mentality" or "herd mentality".

Unfortunately flock mentality is such a strong instinct that it can override good sense. When one sheep moves the rest will follow, even if it does not seem like a good idea. There is no consideration given about whether to follow or not. Sheep follow. For example, in 2006, in Eastern Turkey a sheep tried to cross a 15 metre ravine. It died in the attempt as did the 400 other members of the flock who followed it. There may not be any actual danger, but if one sheep perceives it is in trouble, it will run and the others will follow.

I now can't buy toilet paper and some other things at the supermarket. There are limits on how much of any one thing I can buy. Only government pension/concession card holders can shop between 7am and 8am in the morning. I can no longer visit the supermarket after 8pm because they close to restock for the next day of insanity. This situation used to be amusing, but now I'm starting to feel angry about it. I'm disappointed by the herd mentality shown by my fellow human beings. Aren't we smarter than sheep?

It only takes one person to spark a panic. Panic and fear are much more contagious than any virus, and equally as dangerous. I overheard a conversation between colleagues yesterday discussing how long they could survive on what food they had in their homes. People are seeing empty shelves at their local supermarket and reacting in fear; buying more than they would usually buy in case they "run out". In my home, we are about to run out of toilet paper because people are hoarding the stuff. Why? Why was toilet paper the first thing to disappear from our supermarket shelves? Why were people  fighting over toilet paper? COVID-19 is a respiratory virus with cold and flu like symptoms. Why not buy truckloads of tissues?

In my last post, which was three weeks ago, I said stories about COVID-19 dominate global news services now. Currently the situation is worse as the wave effect of the COVID-19 pandemic spreads. The economy is being smashed. Societal behaviour is being forcibly modified. Some industries are going down the toilet (and they can't buy toilet paper either). For example, Australia closed its borders to visitors from 9pm last night so there goes the tourism sector. I also said the virus will be contained. New infections will stop occurring. The death rate will slow to zero.Travel restrictions will be lifted. That hasn't happened yet. More people are becoming infected and more people are dying. However, I also said life will go on. This is not the apocalypse. It's not the end of the world. Even the actual end of the world is not really the end of the world.

The truth about COVID-19 has been discovered, and we have never been better informed about what it is and how to deal with it. Sadly though, the initial hysteria has not abated:quite the contrary in fact, and the media continues to feed this. Tabloid broadcasters encourage fear with sensationalist reporting, but there's nothing new in that, while the flock mentality sees many people behaving poorly; selfishly and irrationally. 

Until today, I have resisted writing about COVID-19 again because I didn't think there was anything worth saying. It's all been said. It's all anyone ever talks about. I don't want to talk about it, but how can you not talk about something like this? COVID-19 has exposed our weaknesses. I live in the Northern Territory where, despite the fact there are no cases of COVID-19, the same hysteria has infected us.

There are a lot of strange things happening. People aren't shaking hands. Football is being played in empty stadiums. Supermarket shelves are empty, devoid of certain products. We're all washing our hands a lot. Tomorrow my family will be watching a live streamed church service because we can't go to the actual building and meet together like we do every week. Some of what is going on is sensible and justified. Some of it is insane overreaction.

I concede the environment is weird and unsettling. I understand the concern. People worry about what will happen next. They worry about getting sick. About their loved ones getting sick. I appreciate how anxious people feel, but it's too much.

Here are some facts to finish. In Australia, as of yesterday, there were 709 confirmed cases of COVID-19 with 6 deaths. That's less than 1%. More people die in motor vehicle accidents. Last on the Australian Bureau of Statistics top 20 causes of death in Australia is melanoma which caused 2094 deaths in 2018. People are still driving, and exposing themselves to unsafe levels of sunlight.

I am not afraid. Regardless of what is happening around me, around Australia and around the world. I fear nothing because I am a sheep who follows the Good Shepherd. He knows my name. I know his voice, I listen and I trust Him.

The Mirror: Lost in Space

Early in the 19th century, Johann David Wyss wrote The Swiss Family Robinson; a novel about a Swiss family of immigrants whose ship, en route to Port Jackson, Australia, goes off course and is shipwrecked in the East Indies. Wyss' purpose for writing the novel was to educate his four sons about family values, good husbandry, the uses of the natural world and self reliance. The family name "Robinson" is not used in the novel, but as it is modeled on Daniel Dafoe's genre birthing Robinson Crusoe, the title is in homage to the 18th century classic.

Fast forward to the mid 20th century when the inspiration flowed on to produce the science fiction series Lost in Space. John and Maureen Robinson, together with their children Judy, Penny and Will get marooned far from Earth. The setting changed, but the story was the same. A family faced with dangerous isolation has to work together to survive. It's a simple and very appealing idea. 1960's television shows were not renowned for sophisticated special effects, but the science (spaceships and aliens etc) only really had a supporting role.

In 1998, a terrible film adaption of Lost in Space was released. The special effects were a significant improvement on the 1960's television show, but it lacked character. Like many high tech films, it sacrificed substance for style.

When a new Lost in Space series was released in 2018 on  Netflix, I was naturally reluctant to watch it. The original TV series may have finished in the year I was born, but I had seen multiple replays and loved it. I ignored Lost in Space until season one had finished. However, it only took a few episodes for me to fall in love all over again. I've just finished watching season 2, and I'm calling it the best show I've seen since Travelers.

Although, differing in a number of ways from the original series, the Lost in Space reboot triumphs where many science fiction shows fail. Whether it's film, TV or books, I'm mostly interested in characters and relationships, and for me Lost in Space nails it. It has a lot of suspense and breathtaking action sequences which are magnificently supported by special effects, but it's really about the Robinson Family and how they grow stronger and closer together through adversity.

This is the connection: relationship. Leaving aside every imaginable variable, at the core of our existence lies the need for healthy relationships. The quality of our lives has a direct correlation to the quality of our relationships. We were designed to be together and we want that interdependence; we want to belong. Many obstacles and challenges must be faced, and pain is inevitable, but to survive, we need each other.

A colleague of mine criticized Lost in Space because it was 'just a drama in space'. Clearly, the show did not meet her expectations, but for me, I thought 'exactly'. That's why I like it. I feel it. I relate to it. No matter if we, (as represented by the Robinsons), find ourselves lost at sea, lost in space, lost in the jungle or the forest or just plain lost -whatever our circumstances; we grow stronger, wiser and better when we work together to overcome.

A Dog's Eye: More than meets the eye

Many of our students are refugees who suffer what is known as complex trauma which is a result of long term experience of traumatic events, including torture and other acts of violence against themselves and their loved ones. On the surface, they don't appear to be traumatized. Generally, they are very friendly, happy and grateful people.

We also have quite a large number of students who are migrants; predominately Asian women married to Australian men. Many of these marriages are abusive and half result in divorce and ongoing hardship for the women. They don't appear to be traumatized either. You wouldn't know from looking at them or even talking to them that their lives were in turmoil and their hearts were broken. Generally, they are very friendly, happy and grateful people.

I went to see The Rise of Skywalker.* The film had been running for at least half an hour when a man came in, wearing a backpack, and found his way into the middle seat ten rows in front of me. Less then five minutes later, he got out of his seat, the illuminated screen of his phone in his right hand, and left the cinema. He didn't return.

Later, much later and further into the film, a couple of women entered the cinema and walked up the steps of the right hand side aisle looking for their seats. Evidently deciding it would be easier to access their seats from the other side, or that their seats were on the other side, they walked to the left hand aisle. Not more than five minutes after they sat down, one of the women rose from her seat and left the cinema. She did not return. Maybe ten minutes later, her companion also left; never to return.

A bus driver once pulled alongside me, opened his passenger door and began to abuse me for some alleged traffic offense against him. He held his position right next to me, keeping only half an eye on the road and continuing his verbal tirade for several minutes.

I don't know any of these people well; the cinema people and the bus driver, not at all. It's hard to interpret external behaviour. Who knows if outwardly happy people are really happy? Or if road ragers are really angry? Who knows why people would enter a cinema long after the movie has started, and then leave long before it finishes?

This is exactly why the Bible warns us not to judge people. We simply aren't qualified. We don't know enough. Yet, we do it, almost automatically, all the time. Even though we expect grace and understanding from others, we find it hard, sometimes too hard, to dispense it. There's always more to the story. There's always more than meets the eye.

*The Rise of Skywalker is a terrific film. Very entertaining. Some really nice story line gaps filled in. A couple of wow moments and scenes. A bit or humour. First rate special effects as expected. A very worthy addition to the Star Wars saga. As an aside, I still don't understand why parents take young children to M rated films. There's a lot of violence and some horror in The Rise of Skywalker, but there were children as young as five in the cinema watching it. I don't like that, and ironically, am being judgemental towards those parents.

A Dog's Eye: Life X 4

Most people are familiar with the concept of seasons in life, but these are really more aptly called stages. And stages have within them seasons. Periods of time. Happy days where everything seems to be smooth sailing and strawberry fields. Some stretches of months or years where nothing goes right. Spring seasons full of energy, new endeavour and lots of action. Others where nothing happens at all. Our emotions rising and falling as we experience the highs and lows of human existence.

For eighteen months I was a house sitter. During that season I never stayed in any one place for more than four weeks, and usually nowhere near that long. I chose this form of homelessness as a remedy to financial woes. It was mostly a terrific experience about which I have no regrets bar one little one.*

As the grant of a partner visa for my wife and children loomed on the horizon, I decided to act in faith, believing that God would not let us down. Having always been faithful to us, I had no reason to doubt his provision. I bought one way tickets for them to get here in time to celebrate Christmas and New Year. I enrolled my daughter in school and I took out a lease on a three bedroom apartment for us to live in. We started talking to one another and making decisions as though the visa had already been granted. Seven days before they were due to arrive they had no visa; neither a partner visa nor a tourist visa, which we had applied for as a bit of insurance. 

The transition out of the season of house sitting and waiting into  the 'oh man, I'm paying rent again now and I have a family to feed' season was not gradual. On December 16, my wife and two children arrived in Darwin and we jumped into the deep end together. My two eldest children are young adults now. It's been a long time since I lived with them and cared for them as children. I kind of forgot how noisy, messy and inconvenient children are, but I'm not complaining. I'm not complaining, I'm adjusting. We're all adjusting to this new season of living together as a family.

We've been waiting for some time for this new beginning. My wife had this dream of what the future would look like long before she met me. When we learned that we shared this dream and believed God had brought us together to make it happen, we were grateful and excited. We still are. 

We're in a new season now, a new chapter in the book of our lives. It's not just me now. It's life multiplied by four. Four times the people. Four times the problems. Four times the food. Four times the fun. Four times the electricity bill. Four times the joy.

* My final house sit, which I had arranged long before we began our faith steps, ended up not working out for us. Had it just been me, it might have been okay but with the four of us having been catapulted into family life, the house where we stayed presented one too many challenges so we pulled out half way through. Of course, we notified the home owner and arranged a satisfactory replacement. It is the only time I ever let a home owner down, but I felt I had no choice other than to do what was best for us as a family.

Snake Oil: completely normal

Advertisers push boundaries, deliberately creating ads which will cause controversy because controversy sells. Sex is also a great seller so if you combine the two you, ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Even if the ad gets pulled because the standards council, or whoever has jurisdiction, says the ad has gone too far, the product will still get a boost. Controversial ads never lose.

I decided earlier in the week to not buy a particular product because of its use of women in sexy sleepwear. The women are depicted-let's saying putting the product on. If I mention camera angles I think I've said enough. I then decided to not buy any product whose advertising contravened my personal standards. Mainly in the area of sex which regular readers will know is a hobby horse of mine, but generally anywhere where I felt offended or didn't like the message the ad was projecting.

And then came Libra with it's "periods and menstrual blood are completely normal so why cant we show them in an ad." What do you think the chances are of a condom ad being produced which shows another completely normal bodily fluid? We don't have nappy ads which show faeces, do we? Sexual intercourse is also normal.  We used to little see very in films, and none on television, but is okay now. You can't escape it. Sex is used in some films even when it is of no relevance at all to the plot. Maybe we should depict sexual intercourse in ads for beds. Anyway, I digress.

Feminine hygiene ads have traditionally been a bit weird, for men and women, but I think has changed. Some companies have made some very humourous ads which were designed to defuse the awkwardness surrounding this natural function of the human female. There's no reason to be weird about it. My wife and I talk about it in the same way we would discuss what we're having for dinner. The question is: do we want to see it on the TV while we're eating dinner?

Advertising can do a lot of good. It can be highly effective at educating people, and changing people's opinions. However, it is also a front line weapon in the war against decency and moral standards.

I understand what Libra are doing with their ad, but I think the logical extension of their justifying argument takes us into dangerous water. It smells a bit like the pervasive and divisive social engineering undertow of which the majority of people are blithely ignorant. At times the effect of snake oil is subtle, being applied gradually and in small doses. At other times, it's more like a snake bite. Is there an anti-venom to fight against this poison?

Here's the ad if you haven't seen it. 

RelationDips: microwave relationships

It's a thing of the past now, but I once had a blog called 'I Don't Cook' which had a huge following in Poland. For all but 9 months (that's interesting) of my 3 year and 2 month long Darwin experience, I have lived alone. Those who live alone appreciate the problem of cooking.

Even if you like cooking, it often does not seem worth the trouble just to cook for yourself. My solution to this problem was to primarily consume microwave dinners. This had several benefits beside convenience, but I'll get to them in a moment. Reactions from people who I inform of my reliance on frozen meals are mixed; understandably so.

The proof is in the pudding though. I have saved a small fortune, maintained my weight and not wasted any food. Microwave meals tick a number of boxes for me, but one thing I do not do is draw any parallels between frozen dinners and relationships. Why would I? Why would I indeed?

1. Microwave meals are cheap. If you want to save money, you could easily get away with only spending around $30 for a week of dinners. Eat only frozen dinners with your partner, justifying your choice with parsimony, and you are barking up the wrong tree.
2. Frozen dinners are convenient. If you are consistently, or periodically time poor, these meals are life savers. In 5-8 minutes with nothing more than a few pokes of a fork through the plastic, you can have a meal. Be so busy that you are a.squeezing in time to be with your partner around your other activities or b. assuming they will accept being an afterthought, or c. playing the "quality time' over 'quantity time' card, and you have the wrong end of the stick.
3. Microwave dinners are tasty. They come in a huge variety of cuisines with plenty of pasta and rice dishes as well as vegetarian offerings. I've eaten a few duds, but by and large they taste good. However, I've never had a "proper' meal and wished I was having a 'nuked dinner' instead. There's a big difference between an okay relationship and a good one. If you don't know the difference, let me give you a phone number to ring for help. Mediocre is not an acceptable adjective when applied to relationships.

A good relationship is expensive. It will cost money and time, and if you want it to stay good, then sacrifice is required. Love requires the exertion of your will and the execution of your selfishness. It takes effort. A good relationship should be consistently good, at the very least. It doesn't always have to be great, but it should have plenty of great moments. If you're in a relationship which has more lowlights than highlights you're in trouble. 

If your relationship feels like a microwave dinner, do something about it. Fix it. In other words, be the solution. If you can't fix it because the other person doesn't want to, then get out. Go to a restaurant and buy a real meal, or go to the supermarket and buy fresh ingredients to cook up something special. Ditch the frozen dinner relationship. You're better than that.

The Mirror: breaking chains

You once made a poor choice which had long lasting and widespread consequences for you and those you love. Let's be honest, most of us have done this multiple times. You have the means to travel back in time to change that decision. Do you?

It's a classic hypothetical question. Time travel, as far as we know, is not possible. It is however the subject of countless films, television shows and novels. It is even a recurring theme in love songs. Recently I watched Back to the Future for the umpteenth time. I've previously written about Time Travelers on Netflix. Today I watched an episode of Dark Matter. Same subject: time travel. Science fiction series always have time travel episodes. It's fascinating and mind blowing stuff, but it's fictional. Purely speculative.

Why is time travel such a rich vein to mine for stories? What makes it such a popular theme? 

We all have regrets. At some point in our lives, we've all said those fateful words, 'If only...' Even though we cannot change the past, we still obsess about it. It's very human to think this way, but it isn't very helpful. As the writers of science fiction clearly explain, any change to a single event in the past would automatically impact on many other events. The ripple effect is a slave to the laws of physics. Time is not exempt. We can't selectively change the past, but even if we could, would we really want to?

The answer depends entirely on how you feel about yourself. The fact is the person you are now is primarily the cumulative result of your experiences. You have been shaped by what has happened to you. If you can accept that, you can break the chains and find peace and move forward. If not, you're in big trouble because you can't undo what has been done and the burden of history is far to heavy a load for anyone to carry.

A Dog's Eye: Once Upon a Time in Darwin

It happened one morning as I was walking home along a damp footpath mostly covered by the unfortunate leaves and twigs which had been ripped from their arboreal homes by the power of regular monsoonal showers. It happened as I ignored the dogs in every front yard I passed, which ignored me until I passed then barked feverishly at my back. It happened as I watched in joyful fascination as juvenile Ta-Ta lizards tore back across the path to the safety of the garden. Stopping just before entering their refuge, briefly to wave their feet. Gilbert’s Dragons must be the cutest reptiles in the world with this endearing little habit of theirs, but thinking of them led me to thoughts of the cat which roams my backyard, hunting and killing my little reptilian friends.

I turn into my driveway between two rugged pillars of tropical palms, and more little dragons scurry away. I wonder, as I have on many other occasions whether they have less muscles than humans, and if that explains why their movements seem so jerky. I mean they fly when they run: like a blurry poem, but they stop so suddenly, and jerk their head around so robotically that I wonder why they lack the smoothness of a man. Perhaps it’s a perception thing. I make a mental note to Google it when I have time. I always have time for such trivialities. The problem is having the time and using the time are not the same thing.

Placing the key in the lock of the front door, I turn it and pull the handle, but nothing happens. The door is supposed to open. I pull again: harder, then tumble backwards as the handle divorces itself from the door most melodramatically.

At this moment, I utter a reserved expletive, before examining the door. Running my fingers around the edge, I find no impediment to its successful opening until I reach the bottom left hand corner. The useful gap which used to exist between the door and the jam has disappeared. With gentle persuasion quickly giving way to anger fueled brutality, I wrench the damn thing open by gripping an exposed corner of the door at the top. I swear some more.

My mind wanders back to the journey home from the gym. I almost always feels I’ve hit it hard, and that’s what I tell the few people who ask. I stay longer, do more repetitions and use heavier weights. I lift until my muscles scream, then rest and do it again. The pain focuses my thoughts to a pinpoint. There is me, and the music in my ears, and the agony of exertion.

It takes half an hour to walk to the gym, and I go four three afternoons a week and one morning, rain, hail or shine. My head covered my either a hat or an umbrella. I ditched the orange Cairns Taipans cap, partly because I gave up on the team after two matches of the new season, and partly because of concerns about exposure to the sun. It’s hot in the tropics, but even if it wasn’t, the sun delights in burning the pink flesh of foot travelers. My cranium may have been protected, but I knew my ears, and my cheeks and the back of my neck were receiving unsafe levels of exposure and I had seen too many parched and wrinkled heads, scarred by melanoma removal, to carry on taking the risk. Although I thought I had a big head – I finished third in a celebrated head measuring contest at a family gathering- the smallest sized hat with a brim swiveled alarmingly around my skull. However, as the look and the Billabong insignia were both very cool, I took a chance on the chin strap as the solution to excess movement. My hat is still on my head as I enter my flat, but it is the first item I remove. The second is my bag, then, once it has been drained of its contents, the third is my shoes and socks – an audible sigh from my feet fills the room-, and lastly my sweat soaked shirt comes off and I toss it on the floor of the bathroom. It lands exactly where the laundry basket would be if I had one. When I need to transport my dirty clothes to the laundry which is in an adjacent outhouse, I use Coles shopping bags. Courtesy of me frequently forgetting to take the old ones with me when I go shopping, I now have a large collection. Soon my cupboard will be full of them.

It’s very upsetting to have to walk so far to the laundry, and I often swear at the old Samsung washing machine as if it is to blame. I also want to kill the stupid thing when it presents my washed garments in a thick knot of cotton. It has no agitator. I’m told the agitator is crucial to the efficient washing of clothes, but this machine seems to do its job well nonetheless, apart from the knotting which does not occur in machines which contain agitators. This could be a source of irritation, but neither of the two alternatives – buy a new machine or hand wash my clothes- appeal so I will settle for frequent complaining. That’s what most people do anyway. Even problems which have obvious solutions, tend to be cherished above the potential tranquility of not having the problem.

I dump the knotted clump into a shopping bag, then march to the clothesline which is undercover. As I untie the knot, I pen my Facebook status update, because it is important for people to understand my suffering. I use Facebook a lot, and as is the case with many lonely people, I overshare matters of inordinate triviality. I’m older than Facebook. I was an adult before social media was even conceived, let alone prospered into the communication titan that it is today. I don’t recall what I did with all my thoughts, ideas and grumbles before Facebook gave me such a helpful platform of release, but I suppose I spat them into the wind. At its most grand, Facebook is the most populous community on earth, an indispensable mode of communication and connectedness. At its worst, it’s a waste of time and a pathetic substitute for authentic relationship.

I put on a clean single and switch on the kettle. The noise annoys me, but I have no choice, unless I want to boil water on the stove which I don’t have, or build a fire in the yard and boil a billy, because that is so practical. I have a choice. In fact, I have lots of choices, and that is perhaps one of the greatest problems of the twenty first century: too much choice. I recall my first visit to a supermarket in the United States when I wanted to buy some milk. There was a huge selection of bottles, all containing liquid which looked like milk, but nothing that was actually called ‘milk’. Just ‘milk’. I began reading the labels, desperately hoping to find something which told me I was buying what I wanted, but my heartrate was going through the roof by the time I hit the bottle which said it contained acidophilous. I didn’t even know what acidophilous was – still don’t, so why, I reasoned at the time, would I buy it. It was a twenty-four-hour supermarket, and I had no particular place to be, but I’m pretty sure that nobody of sound mind, enjoys hanging out in a supermarket. I know some people like to browse, and plan their menus according to whim, but most people, I venture to say, use guerilla warfare tactics like hit and run. I doubt anyone vocalizes this thought, but for sure and certain it is played out in the minds of all who enter supermarkets. Okay, men. Let’s get in. Get what we need and get out. Watch your back. Stick to the plan. You have your orders. Go!

The kettle roars to a climax, then switches off, and I begin the tea making ritual. The bag, the sugar, the milk. In that order. Washing machines, kettles, social media and twenty-four-hour gymnasiums. What a wonderful world. I can feel stiffness creeping into my joints as my tortured muscles begin to cool and relax into liberty. A fleeting panic is caused by a whisper of apprehension: what if I overdid it, and I can’t get out of bed tomorrow morning. Needless worry. Of all the things I do, in this I excel.

With my tea ready, and a handful of chocolate chip cookies loaded onto a plate, I leave the cavernous and clammy interior of my flat and settle on a moderately comfortable chair outside. I switch the laptop on, and it boots in seconds – as ASUS promised it would. I knew I could trust the Taiwanese. A little nation of rebels just like Australia. Same population in a country two hundred and fifteen times smaller. Taiwan is overpopulated and Australia is underpopulated. It’s a nice picture of the weird inequality which exists on planet earth. At least Australia doesn’t have such a major issue with its sovereignty.

The final part of my health and relaxation regime is tobacco.

Snake Oil: education solves all problems

I wonder if anyone believes that education solves all problems. Education solves problems, education provides opportunities, education is a worthy and useful pursuit, but it is not a panacea. C.S.Lewis said it best.

What values underpin the rationale behind and the aim of public service announcement ads? I suggest a shared community value of respecting other people's three Ps: person, property and peace. These types of ads are clearly designed to educate people, unlike most ads which are designed to persuade people to spend money on things. Advertising is all about influencing people. Public service ads attempt to change people's behaviour. The problem is that the people most likely to pay attention to these ads are those who agree with the message of the ad, and are already doing so.

The ad I'm particularly interested in at the moment is a message from Darwin City Council about responsible pet ownership. What are the chances that irresponsible pet owners are going to see this ad, repent and turn over a new leaf? For starters they probably can't even hear the ad because their dog is barking and they're vainly yelling at it to stop. When people buy pets, they generally know what they are in for: some degree of trouble. When they buy puppies, they've got a good idea of exactly what sort of trouble they're in for, and what they can do to prevent it.

Nuisance behaviour is preventable. That's the main message of the  ad. The slogan says "Good pets start with you." Does anybody not know that? Does anybody not know that if you don't train your pup, it will become a pain in the neck? If I owned a dog, I would at least attempt to train it. I don't want to deliberately make my life more difficult, but that's exactly what people do. With dogs, I'm sure people have the best of intentions, but life gets in the way. Or maybe it's sheer laziness. Perhaps it's delusion.

I have been a victim of nuisance behaviour by animals many times in my capacity as house sitter. I am the victim of nuisance behaviour right now by Whiny McBarkenstein. I'm helpless to change this behaviour. I can only deal with it as best I can. At most I spend three or four weeks in some one else's home looking after their pets. Often it's less than a week. Powerless I sit, watching these ads about dogs acting badly, and shaking my head.

The one shining light in all this-there are several actually; the truth is that getting into house sitting which I've been doing full time since April 2018, has saved my financial bacon. But the other thing house sitting has done is fire up my writing. This blog post is a brief sample of my WIP which is called I Used to be an Animal Lover. As my wife said when I was complaining about not being able to sleep because of the dogs and a rooster, at least I have a lot of ammunition for my book.

I've already completed 34,861 words of the first draft in just twenty days and I'm loving writing more than I have for quite a while. In the process,as is always the case, I'm learning lots of fascinating things related to animals, and as the book is part memoir, I'm also doing what all writers do; dealing with demons in my head.

Finally, back on the ads. I think they reinforce good behaviour in those who are already behaving properly, according to a shared community value. (respecting person, property and peace).The ads do not change the behaviour of people who don't. I'm not sure many people are even capable of acquiring new values.

A Dog's Eye: what weird folks do

The license plate reads "liontmr". I quickly fill in the missing vowels, then begin to wonder. Those are two things I do compulsively; read and ponder. (I have considered, for example, why the rimes in wonder and ponder are identical on the page, but pronounced differently.)


Is the owner of the car declaring their occupation? Making an aspirational statement about their future vocation? Or letting people know about their attitude to life? Perhaps they simply like lion tamers, although the "attitude to life" explanation is far more romantic and indeed powerful.

She's driving ten kilometres an hour under the speed limit, in the extreme left of the lane; so far left in fact, her tyres are in the breakdown lane. It's a three kilometre stretch of road. At roughly the half way point, she accelerates to ten kilometres above the speed limit,, and moves back to the centre of the lane.

Is she a terrible driver? So fearful of a head collision she drives in the breakdown lane? Or was she simply distracted for the first section of that journey? I noted her visor was down in front of her eyes, and wondered why it was there when the sun was beating down on us from the left- which is where I had my visor positioned.

Instructed to form four separate lines, most of us do so reluctantly. Questions about which queue will move more quickly come into play. People like me, who always pick the slow lane, hesitate. Eventually sorted into four divided lines we begin our march to the cable car which will take us up to Sunworld in Ba Na Hills, Danang in Vietnam. After a fifty metre shuffle we reach the first corner only to discover that there are now only two lines. It could be four or three, or even five, but it's hard to tell. It takes a good twenty minutes, maybe half an hour before we arrive at the end of the queue, sweating from the heat. The end turns out to be only the beginning of another erratic and ultimately vain attempt to redistribute us cattle into new lanes.

Finally, we seemed to be inching forward again in three or four different lines which I'm certain was only supposed to be two. It's a people jam par excellence. I think I know how to function in a queue, but I realize I could have it all wrong when every step forward I take results in the person behind me banging into me. It happens three or four times, and although I might be mistaken, I have a feeling it's just plain rudeness on his part. So I turn around and tell him to stop it. I make a gesture with my palms, suggesting he keep his distance. He smiles, nods his head and we move on.

I like to think there's a reason for everything people do, even if I can't see it. However, I have a feeling that people are often unaware of their behaviour, and furthermore, that their behaviour may not even be the result of conscious decision making; it may simply be reactionary. That is, a programmed response to a particular set of circumstances. If thought is given to action including personalized license plates, then what kind of logic underpins it?

People are very odd. I'm a person. Therefore, I am very odd. (see what I did there?) I'm also still, despite my age, quite self conscious, which I think makes me a very considerate person in public places. Self control, self awareness and sensitivity to context and setting are important I think. Then again maybe I think too much.

The Mirror: Three Hours

Time travel stories, with narratives driven by the need to explore "what if?" scenarios are fascinating. Typically, some error in the past has caused a problem in the future, so with the possibility of time travel existing, someone simply needs to go back in time and fix the problem. Everyone is as familiar with the concept of "sliding doors" as they are with the regrets, often accompanied by shame and disappointment, over poor historical choices. That isn't science fiction; it is reality.

Searching for something to watch once I had binged on three seasons of Stranger Things, I discovered a show called Travelers. Sadly, it too only lasted three seasons but what a choice show. Briefly, in Travelers, people are sent back to the 21st century to inhabit the bodies and minds of "hosts" via a process called "consciousness transfer". An artificial intelligence being called The Director does the sending and gives these teams of travelers missions to change the future for the better. Of course, it is much more complex than that, as are the relationships the hosts have, and the moral dilemmas they face. Travelers is very thought provoking, cleverly written, suspenseful and genuinely funny at times.

In episode 3 of season 3, the leader of the team upon which the series is largely focused - FBI Agent Grant McClaren - has his memory wiped so as to not suffer the anguish of remembering having to kill a boy who will turn out to be a monster of a man. However, McClaren can't handle the memory holes, so retraces his steps and learns that he spent three hours with this boy, and did not end up killing him. Why? The three hours were of such transformative value to the boy that his future changed, and the Director then spared his life. Regardless of the obvious impossibility of the premise, a remarkable thing happens here, and it is a truth we should grab and hold on to.


This boy had nothing but abuse in his childhood, he was abducted, mistreated, rescued then abandoned to the foster care system in which he suffered further abuse and increasing social isolation. There had been no positive influences in his life. No one stood up for him, protected him, loved him. He behaved badly which caused everyone to shun and revile him as a bad boy: a menace, worse, a dangerous anti social psychopath. He made others feel threatened because he did not feel safe.

Until McClaren spent just three hours with him, talking to him, listening to him, even eating rabbit (the travelers are all vegetarians) which had been trapped and killed by the boy, then cooked on an open fire. This relatively small period of time had a profoundly positive impact on the boy.

We may not be able to travel back in time to correct our mistakes, or the mistakes of others, but we can certainly have a very powerful influence on the future. Investing in relationships now will result in tremendous generational benefits. The impact of our words and actions on other people is often underestimated. We would do well to build people up. to encourage and to inspire them. Emotionally healthy people have healthy relationships, and despite what we are often told, healthy relationships are the heart, soul and spine of society.

The Mirror: Choking on Gnats

Is James Faulkner gay or not? Apparently this is a major issue. His social media post saying he was out with his mum and boyfriend, and his subsequent backflip to clarify the other man was his best mate, has caused a media storm. I'm not sure why I am writing about this, but Israel Folau is facing the music today over his "homophobic" comments on social media, and a lot of people are frothing at the mouth. Both Folau and Faulkner seem to be a cynosure for outrage on the touchy subject of inclusion.

Apparently there are no "out of the closet" homosexual men in either cricket or rugby union, or indeed any of our major, high profile sports. Evidently this is a problem. There are no "out of the closet" homosexual men in my workplace either...should I find one (either by outing them or hiring them) so that my employer can't be accused of homophobia? Every television show now has a homosexual couple de rigeur, so I can recognize the need to have more homosexuals.

I am strongly opposed to discrimination on the basis of sexuality, gender, race or age. The fact there are still people in our country, and you probably know some of them, who still view people who are different from themselves, as inferior is a shameful indictment of humanity.

However, this obsession about people's sexual preferences is surely

a distraction from the main game, and the hysteria surrounding Folau and Faulkner and everyone else who puts their head above water and into the sights of "news" creators* is really annoying. In the information age people's opinions on social media generate more news stories than actual news. I don't even know what "news" is anymore.

Warnings are ringing out now, as if they haven't been ever since the advent of social media, about the need for circumspection with regard to what one posts online. A relatively recent and delightful cliche: "the internet has a long memory" states the proof of your bigotry, your indiscretions, your crimes is available forever - well, not exactly forever. You could lose your job or not be able to get one because of something you once said. You may have changed; not just your mind about a particular issue, but your whole outlook on life might have changed. Nevertheless, apparently you can still suffer the consequences. And there is no statute of limitations.

In two weeks Australia will hold a federal election. What dominated the campaign this week? You guessed it: social media posts. Liberal candidate for Lyon, Jessica Whelan's resignation is the latest example of controversy brought about by inappropriate social media comments, in Whelan's case; anti Muslim statements. Labour Candidate, for Melbourne, Luke Creasey, is under pressure due to his activity on Facebook which included such delightful things as sharing rape jokes and pornography, and distasteful comments about lesbians...in 2012. He might no longer do that, or think that is acceptable behaviour - in fact he said so when he apologized - but too bad. He said it and it can't be unsaid. It's too late. You can't grow up, change your view or adjust your attitude.

Can we talk about the issues now? I mean the issues that really matter. Education. Health. The environment. The economy. Can we have some serious discussion about what really matters? Can we stop focusing so heavily on individual indiscretions and examine the causes of our problems? Can we even agree on what those problems are? Can we stop using band-aids to treat cancers in society? Or are we going to continue to choke on gnats while swallowing camels?

In Matthew 23:24, we read about Jesus identifying this problem. He was speaking to the religious leaders of his time, but of course he was referring to people generally. He was not only saying that our priorities are wrong, but worse, we deliberately foster hypocrisy by participating in "stone throwing" exercises. I don't understand why so many people think Jesus and his teachings are irrelevant and unimportant, but James Faulkner's sexuality is. We would rather discuss Luke Creasey's comment about lesbians and their vaginas than Jesus' teachings about justice and mercy.

Anyway, as we say in Australia: she'll be right mate.

* there is a big difference between reporting on news and creating it. The latter is becomingly increasingly common, and especially evident in sports journalism.

A Dog's Eye: The greatest sporting comeback ever

I develop an itch and a wild tic when the frequently abused adverb "ever" is tacked on to any statement (or question for that matter). I have a condition called HSD (Hyperbole Sensitivity Disorder). It is a companion affliction to HDS - be careful not to confuse them- which is Hug Deprivation Syndrome. The latter is treated easily with extravagant, prolonged and regular embraces. The former is not so easily dealt with. The best solution I have found is complaining. the other option is ignoring, but this is much less satisfying in my opinion.

Naturally, my hyperbole meter went berserk this week when I heard Tiger Woods' victory at the 2019 Masters described as the greatest sporting comeback ever. It was later referred to as "arguably the greatest ever" which was more palatable, but in either case it got me thinking. Was this a statement of fact, or yet another example of the gross exaggerations typical of sports journalists?

Woods came back from a double stress fracture of the tibia, numerous back injuries and surgeries, as well as the personal fall from grace which resulted from his public confession of infidelity. Until this year's Masters he had not won a major for five years. Countless athletes have come back from serious injuries - both life threatening and career threatening. Peyton Manning missed the entire 2011 NFL season due to multiple neck surgeries, then changed clubs and continued his record breaking career for another three years. Niki Lauda was back behind the wheel of his Ferrari F1 six weeks after an horrific race accident left him comatose with severe burns to his head and damage to his lungs from inhaling toxic gases when he was trapped in the wreckage. Surfer Bethany Hamilton lost her arm in a shark attack, but jumped back on the board and kept surfing.

You want more? No problem. Monica Seles quit tennis for two years after being stabbed in the back on the court, by a deranged fan. Andre Agassi went right off the rails in 1996 as his marriage fell apart, and a drug habit blossomed as he struggled with a chronic wrist injury. Two years later aged 31, he burst back into the top 3. Aged 45, George Foreman came out of a ten year retirement to win the world heavyweight boxing championship by knocking out a man 18 years his junior. And one more from the only one of all those sports which holds absolutely no interest at all for me personally: golf. 

Ben Hogan was told he might never walk again, let alone play golf following a motor vehicle accident which left him with a double fracture of the pelvis, fractures to the collar bone and left ankle, and during his three month stay in hospital, a series of life threatening blood clots. The following year he began playing professional golf once more, and three years after his accident he won the Triple Crown.

Depending on which criteria you use (severity of injuries, length of time out of the game, degree of psychological stress) any one of the aforementioned champions, and numerous others could be awarded the title of greatest sporting comeback ever. Woods get the nod because he is the most recent, but his is definitely not the greatest comeback. Nor are any of the other amazing resurrections I've mentioned.

Here is, in my opinion, the greatest sporting comeback of all time. At the age of 46, an Australian man* from Dapto, ended a 30 year retirement from soccer by signing up to play for Dapto Anglican Church in the Illawarra church league. The first, and subsequent training sessions nearly killed him, and on game day he was competing mostly against men half his age. During the season he suffered a grade four hip flexor tear, and a broken rib. These injuries cost him 6 weeks on the sideline, but he pushed through the pain of rehab, and returned to play a minor role in his team's premiership victory.

Now that's a comeback!

*Following the glorious victory I retired and have been boasting of my achievement ever since.