31 October 2006 at 08:20
Tenuous title, I know.
While growing up I didn't often see the humorous side of my father, mainly because of the hostilities between us. But towards the end of his life we called a ceasefire, and I visited him at his wee island cottage.
Every evening he went out to the pub, while I would stay at his place until he returned after closing time. On Halloween, he disappeared to the pub as usual. Late that night, I was sitting watching TV when the electricity suddenly went off, the door opened slowly, and a turnip lantern appeared in the doorway, going "woooo" and swaying unsteadily in mid-air.
In some countries I believe it would have been a hollowed-out pumpkin, but in Scotland the tradition is to use a turnip instead. Cheaper too. You put a candle inside, and the light shines out through the eyes and mouth.
I enjoyed my father's little joke, and next day I insisted we take some photos.
My father didn't live long enough to see all the 3-letter qualifications after my name.
Rob McJ, H.N.T., O.C.D., N.P.D. and R.D.D.
This is a freelance Taoist blog.
Every true story contains a wee lie.
And every lie contains a grain of truth.~
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27 October 2006 at 13:59
Blogger is up again today after they shut it down on Thursday in response to
a hack attack. Some people are saying it was cyberterrorism. Could it have been the fundamentalist Hotbollah trying to sabotage another HNT Thursday?
The blogger people say there was no damage was done, though someone seems to have stolen my password and left another insulting comment in my name at
hotboy's place.
Just found out that a dear person I used to know back in Jocko-land has got the big C. Meanwhile, my physio lady here with the brain cancer is just surviving. And the annual Xmas party this year will be the poorer without the presence of one of Australia's most famous (famous in Australia) living playrights, because, well, he's no longer living either. What a fortunate creature I am to be alive and well, 21 years after I had the big C.
If you or someone you know is ever offered radio-so-called-therapy for cancer, my advice is to read the medical literature very carefully. Find out if there's any evidence of its effect on the particular variant of cancer that you're looking at. Remember, cancer isn't a single disease, but a mixed bag of wildly different cellular types, each responding very differently to the various treatment options.
In my own case, a visit to the medical school library revealed that radiation was known to have little or no effect on my type of cancer. When I questioned the docs, they admitted this but explained they were giving me extra blasts, just to see if it would help.
Nowadays, I'm left with the fallout (metaphorically) from the radiation. E.g. root canal dentistry becomes complicated, because radiation makes the root canals fill themselves up with calcium, thus hiding themselves from the dentist.
Next week I'm being referred to a specialist dentist who works with a microscope to find and drill out the canals.
The cost for two hours' treatment is upwards of $2000 (about 800 quid). This is why I have no money to buy beer, and have to brew my own.
I'm blogging this just to remind people there's a big downside to most treatment. We tend to overlook that when there's a medical panic going on. I sometimes wish I had been more assertive with the docs at the time. But I did challenge them on one thing - they were planning to fry my thymus gland as well.
The thymus is the control centre of the immune system. So I asked them why they were trying to kill it off. The next day they agreed to shield it with lead so it wouldn't be blasted after all. If only this book had existed back then:
Yet I feel fortunate to be alive, and to have had 21 extra years (so far), while other poor basturns are dropping like flies around me.
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25 October 2006 at 16:36
German marzipan comes in big blocks, about the size and weight of a gold bar, and coated in dark chocolate.
It's impossible to buy German marzipan here, so I'm going to make my own, by adapting this recipe:
European-Style Marzipan
1 cup blanched whole almonds
1 1/3 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
2 1/4 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla or rose water
2 tablespoons water
1 slightly beaten egg white
The recipe specifies nearly 4 cups sugar to 1 cup almonds. That can't be right. I'd rather hang on to my teeth.
If anyone has any experience, I could use come tips. I thought I would use rice malt instead of sugar, and I'll cut out the egg. If it's any good (and how could any marzipan not be?) I'll blog it.
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24 October 2006 at 09:22
I have just noticed that this blog's core support team is clustered in the middle of the alphabet:
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H -
HotboyI -
IonJ - robmcJ
1K -
KedaL -
Lee AnnM -
MenziesN
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
1 - Because the world has to balance up, everything is reversed here in the southern hemisphere - Christmas is in summer, water goes down the plug-hole in reverse, and of course initials start from the back of the name.
How balanced is that? The odds against the names clustering in the centre are about the same as the chances of winning the lottery. Of course I'd rather have the money, but the suppport team is good too.
With the aim of extending in either direction, I am now advertising for people to fill the
G-spot and the
N-spot. There used to be an N, someone called
Neotropism, but something happened to him back in May. I hope he's alright. He lives in Scotland so he may have been stabbed.
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19 October 2006 at 02:15
This week's HNT is another in my occasional series of educational videos. I hope you find it helpful.
Evaporation Video.
If you missed previous HNTs, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts here.~
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14 October 2006 at 08:21
Back in the UnHeard Of Islands now, I can at last reveal that my fear of flying and terrorism was just a pretence, a mere blogo-dramatic device. And even if the plane had been bombed or rocketed, what a way to go! In a reclining massage chair, with umpteen fair Austrian damsels bringing 6-course meals and waves of fine wines.
On arrival at McDonald Island International Airport, the customs folk did a full baggage search and X-ray. I was able to convince them that the bottles of cloudy liquid really were a form of beer. Otherwise they were going to force me to open a weissbier and drink it to prove what it was. That would have been a waste - beer on top of multiple wines is a no-no.
At home, the beloved partner had prepared a selection of dips and nibbles almost to business class standard. But now it's back to my normal life in K-mart class. What a fortunate creature I was! With the support of ion, keda, lee ann (ed), and menzies, I managed to foil the hotbolla militia.
I brought back a souvenir for Lee Ann, as a thank you for her support.
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12 October 2006 at 21:32
The flight back to the UnHeard Of Islands today is of course on 12th October, the favourite suicide bombing day amongst South East Asian islamists. They've twice done suicide bombings on Oct 12th, including the Bali bombings.
I have survived as far as Kuala Lumpur, and I land home tomorrow on Friday 13th. What could possibly go wrong now?
Note to Lee Ann - please publish this posthumously if I don't make it. Thanks.
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11 October 2006 at 16:47
Yesterday, while walking through Lichterfelde in Berlin admiring the architecture of the old Art Deco houses, I felt a glowing sense of being at home, of wanting to live here. When I phoned the aunt last night, she told me that my great grandfather had lived in Lichterfelde, perhaps in one of those very houses I had seen.
So I asked for the address where my great grandfather used to live, and today I went back to Lichterfelde again, to find and photograph his old house. Like most of my plans, it started out well, before going off the rails. I got out of the S-Bahn at the beautifully restored station:
Then I found the street where he used to live, full of grand old villas like this one:
But at his actual address, the house had long ago been knocked down and replaced with flats.
So then I went in search of his last known address, a block of flats near the station. Alas, the ground where that building had stood, was now an S-Bahn railway line.
But of course everything balances up in the end, and I had one bit of luck! I stumbled upon a truly historic building, an old barracks. It started out as a Prussian officers' quarters in the 1800s. Goering was trained there, and it became an SS HQ during the Third Reich.
On June 30, 1934, the Night of the Long Knives, Hitler murdered Ernst Rohm and began to eliminate Rohm's anti-capitalist SA forces, replacing the old Nazi party brownshirts with Heinrich Himmler's SS. An SS firing squad operated at the Lichterfelde Barracks. Shots rang out every twenty minutes like clockwork as SA men were put before the wall, followed by the command: "By order of the Führer. Aim. Fire!"
After the war the building became the main American army barracks, and now that the US military has gone elsewhere, it has been turned into the Archives of the East German Secret Police (STASI). So people who used to live in East Germany can now go there to look up their own data, and find out who was spying on them or informing on them.
So it's a building that has seen some historic changes. One day it may even be reborn as an Al Qaeda training centre.
The surprisingly friendly security guys told me I could have lunch in the canteen. I ate my sausage and sauerkraut sitting outdoors at a table with a view of where the SS firing-squad shot the SA leaders.
It was a nice lunch, but someone should really tell the sadistic basturn working on the cash desk that the SS has been disbanded. She was unnecessarily mean-spirited. Sadly, I didn't think of my SS retort until much later.
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at 06:50
Not only is tomorrow my last day in Bunkerland (possibly even my last day ever), tomorrow promises to be a very special day in my life for another reason.
I know I risk seeming to channel
Menzies when I tell you that it's all hush-hush, but I can't say any more right now. Still, I
can tell you that tomorrow will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me, and I've spent most of this evening planning it, using several old maps and photos of Berlin.
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10 October 2006 at 03:12
This is a freelance Taoist blog.
Every true story contains a wee lie.
And every lie contains a grain of truth.
This is one of the houses that my aunt is planning to leave me in her will. Now do you see why I tolerate her and even visit her?
PS A big hug to anyone who's reading this on her birthday.
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05 October 2006 at 23:26
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02 October 2006 at 22:46
STATUS REPORT.
Weight gain - 1 kilogram. Not a lot when you think of all the sausages, cake, and full-fat cheese.
Serotonin levels - high. Possibly too high. Yesterday I told a 75 year old woman she had a nice bum.
Stress and rage levels - still within the law. Not homicidal.
Bathroom taps - shiny and clean.
Bathroom sink - I left some slight water drops on the porcelain yesterday, but there was no inspection that day and I got away with it.
Jaw muscles - sore, from all the clenching and from speaking German for two weeks - all that spitting and throat-clearing.
Sleep stats - getting about 12 hours every day. It's the only way to get some time to yourself. After lunch I yawn theatrically and take a nap for a couple of hours. At night I go to bed early. I awake at about 5, but fake sleep till 8. I daren't turn on the light, or the door would fly open and the interrogations begin. I forgot to tell you, all the bedroom doors are glass, so even wanking is off the menu.
Only six more days to go, then I'll hit the bunker again.
What a fortunate creature I'll be!
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