Author: Purple Wyrm

Jack Sprat and the Doom of Dogs

Better than Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull!

Many years ago, when my brother and I were young kids our parents would occasionally leave us in the care of our aunts overnight. They lived in a small, yet somehow rambling house in North Perth with our two cousins – both boys about eight years older than us. It can’t have been much fun for them as teenagers babysitting two little kids, but they did a good job and I can’t remember a single incident of teasing or cruelty towards us on their part.

One thing they did do however was teach us two very important and little known facts, which I shall now reveal to the world at large.

The first concerns the gap down the back of an armchair, between the cushions on your couch, or even between a bed and the wall. You may think this is nothing but a depository for loose change, but in fact it is a dimensional portal that opens solely for members of the canine clan. It is The Doom of Dogs!

I have to admit I was a bit shaky on exactly what happens to any pooch that falls into the Doom of Dogs – the cousins seemed a bit shaky on that themselves – but whatever it is it must be fairly terrible because their aged terrier Suzie (her full name was actually Suzie Wong, but that’s a story for another day) would run for the hills whenever we placed her on the couch and started pulling the cushions apart.

(Of course we would never have let her actually fall into the Doom, we were merely using her to demonstrate the concept. Repeatedly. Every time we went over there in fact.)

The second important thing they taught us was the real words to the nursery rhyme Jack Sprat. You are no doubt familiar with the traditional version, learnt from books and at nursery school…

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean,
And so betwixt them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean,

Well the real version, passed down through our cousins’ family line for generations (or at least since they made it up the previous week) is…

Jack Sprat forgot his back,
His dog was green with envy,
So together they sat, on Old Shag’s back,
And told stupid stories,

Now the meaning of this rhyme (not that it rhymes very much, if at all) is naturally an ancient and terrible secret. I could of course tell you, but then I’d have to condemn you to the Doom of Dogs, and no one wants that…

Lost in Austen

TV makes everything better!

One of the things about myself that I’m kind of embarrassed about is that while I apparently come across as highly erudite and well educated, I’m not actually particularly literary. Confront me with a list of the greatest novels of the last 200 years and I’ll have to admit that I’ve read very few of them. Dostoyevsky? Nope. Balzac? Nup. Orwell? No. Tolstoy? ‘Fraid not. The Brontës? Uh-uh. Steinbeck? Never. Dickens? Well I read Great Expectations in high school. Kipling? No. The list goes on.

A few years ago I decided to do something about this. I – on the basis that everyone always goes on and on about it – obtained a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and set to work on it with vigour and enthusiasm.

I got about two thirds of the way through before collapsing in apathy and giving up.

I just couldn’t get into it. The pace was glacial, there were dozens of characters you had to keep track of, Elizabeth and Darcy were irritating as all get out and I really just could not motivate myself to push through to the end. Once again literature one, me nil.

(I dare say the book’s many millions of fans – or at least the few that stumble over this blog – are foaming at the mouth at the above. Let me state here that I’m in no way saying it’s a bad book, just one that I couldn’t understand. The fault is entirely mine!)

The reason I bring all this up was that the ABC played the first two (as is their wont) episodes of Lost in Austen last night, and I loved it. It was freaking hilarious!

For those unfamiliar with the premise, a young 21st century woman (and fan of the book) finds herself somehow swapped with Elizabeth Bennet and by her very presence horribly disrupting the plot. Her attempts to get things back on track make matters even worse and – well I don’t want to include any spoilers and I’ve only seen half of it anyway, but it’s entertaining in the extreme.

(Mr Collins! Oh my lord Mr Collins!! The sniffing!!)

I think one of the main reasons I like this version is that the actors do all the heavy lifting on remembering who’s who. It’s much easier to remember what’s going on when you’ve got a clear image of each character in your head. It’s also got the right mix of sly, post-modern humour and Austenic (if I might be permitted to coin an adjective) witticisms. I’m very much looking forwards to the conclusion next week and, who knows, once it’s all over I may even go back and give the book another try.

Maybe.

The Ghost Who Lurks

Wheelchair bound freaks!

I am by nature a lurker. Rather than being involved with things I prefer to stand on the fringes looking in. If I won the lottery (not likely since I never buy a ticket) and decided to hire a nightclub to throw a big party for all my friends (well what would you do if you won the lottery then?), I’d spend most of it sitting in the office keeping half an eye on things through the security cameras. Like I said, a lurker.

The reason I mention this is because it explains my attitude to forums. I keep an eye on quite a few forums, but I am not a member of any of them. I just drop in and check the threads, often on a daily basis. And 90% of the time that’s fine. I feel no social impulse to jump in and take part and feel in no way deprived, isolated or left out.

Occasionally however I come across a thread where I’d actually have something to contribute. An idea, or a comment, or some experience relevant to the subject being discussed. It’s times like this that I wish I was a member of the board – not enough to actually sign up – but enough to be mildly irritated at my inability to contribute.

So, what better to do than ‘contribute’ through my blog? Sure, the people on the boards may never see it, and probably wouldn’t care if they did (apart from wondering who this anti-social weirdo is) but at least it gets the ideas out of my head.

So that’s what I’m going to do here.

The board in question is Whitechapel, one of the domains of Warren Ellis (King of the Internet), and the thread is the latest “Remake/Remodel” challenge. Rather than go to the trouble of explaining what this is, I’ll be lazy and let Warren explain it…

So, every week or two, I set all the artists at my message board a challenge called REMAKE/REMODEL. I pick a character — usually some ancient pulp character from the claggy depths of the public domain — and tell the artists to reinterpret said character from a modern perspective.

This week he selected a certain Ivan Brodsky (Note: At least one of the remodels is seriously not safe for work, or anyone of a sensitive disposition. You have been warned).

Now, I’m no artist. I can – if I try very hard – draw something that probably wouldn’t be laughed out of town, but it certainly wouldn’t be applauded either. But I have a very good idea of what I’d try to draw if I could draw, and if I was a member of Whitechapel, and will describe it here in a ‘pen portrait’.

(Yes, I realise Warren specifically outlaws pen portraits and hence would be likely to set his eels on me if I tried this kind of crap in his thread. But this isn’t his thread, it’s a blog post aimed in the general direction of his thread, so I think I can claim a certain amount of immunity. I hope. Get the iron trousers Marion! 🙂

So imagine if you will, a wizened figure in an electric wheelchair. His withered body is strapped in and his oversize head is held up with braces. The left side of his body and face are scarred and burnt, and his left arm hangs limply. His right arm grasps the joystick that drives his mechanical conveyance. Hung around his neck are the sacred insignia of a multiple faiths. A crucifix, a hand of Fatima, a seal of David, a Khanda and a dozen others.

Various metal rods and wires stick out of the left side of his bald head which is heavily scarred. His left eye is clearly artificial, a bulging, oversize globe painted with a spiraling, hypnotic pattern. His remaining eye has a piercing, penetrating quality with more than a suggestion of madness…

Dr Ivan Brodsky was a brilliant, if amoral brain surgeon who was the only survivor of an operating theatre explosion. Flying surgical instruments severed his spine and were driven deep into his brain, altering his neural pathways to let him perceive things men were not meant to see! His patented hypno-eye(tm) was a later innovation to enhance his hypnotic abilities.

Eat your heart out Stan Lee! 😀

So yeah. The pine nut curse has dissipated (for now), I’m busy cataloging and sorting the photos of my UK trip back in 2004 and uploading them to Flickr and I saw Watchmen yesterday which I quite enjoyed despite leaving my glasses at home and hence having to watch the entire film through my sunglasses. Apart from that it’s business as usual at the Wyrmcave. Boring, awful normal ;D

That is all.

The Curse of the Pine Nuts!

Communist infiltration of my taste buds.

For about the last year (as part of a half hearted health kick) I’ve been buying my lunch most days down at the local branch of Edens Salad Bar. This is one of those places where you make your own salad or roll by selecting foodstuffs from a buffet like arrangement and as a consequence of doing all the work yourself pay far more than you would for a pre-prepared meal. But hey, the ingredients are fresh, you get exactly what you want and they seem to have a policy of only employing extremely cute and friendly girls to operate the counter, so I’m not complaining 🙂

Eating at Edens has introduced me to an extremely delicious and previously completely unknown culinary treat – the Pine Nut. They have these in a large shaker and for the past year I’ve been liberally dosing every roll or salad I make with them. Which has been fine – they’re meant to be quite good for you – and has presented absolutely no problem of any kind at all. Until this week.

The pine nut shaker was getting a bit low, so they topped it up. However instead of the large, yellowish pine nuts they’ve been using, they’ve switched to smaller, browner ones. This may have to do with the economic crisis, pine nuts are after all pretty expensive. This didn’t bother me at first but as of early this week I’ve been struck down by the Curse of the Pine Nuts! Oh the horror!

I quote from the source (and destination) of all human knowledge, Wikipedia…

“The eating of pine nuts can cause serious taste disturbances, developing 1-3 days after consumption and lasting for days or weeks. A bitter, metallic taste is described. In general, a minority of pine nuts on the market present this problem. Though very unpleasant, there doesn’t seem to be a real health concern.

This phenomenon was first described in a scientific paper in 2001. Since the article, experiences of the phenomenon have been reported by hundreds of people worldwide (US, Canada, South Africa, Finland, Iceland, Germany, and many more).

The pine nuts involved typically contain triglycerides formed by 16-18° unsaturated fatty acids. No contamination with pesticide residues or heavy metals was found.

Some of the pine nuts involved were imported from China. However, in many countries packaged pine nuts are not required to state the country of origin or the species, and thus it is impossible to conclusively link the effect to a particular species or source country.”

My taste buds have been assaulted by the horrors of (presumably) Chinese pine nuts! I am cursed with a bitter, metallic taste that affects everything I eat! Oh woe is me!

I’m swearing off Pine Nuts until they switch back to the big, yellowish ones. Hopefully the effect wears off before the weekend when I’m heading out to dinner (twice!) for my birthday.

Anyone who tries to hug me will be shot dead…

Some general updates

Every week I like Miki more and more. Mind you, she’s been my favourite FreakAngel ever since her first appearance, it’s just that the more we see of her the more my initial opinion is confirmed.

Of course Kait is growing on me too.

I do have to ask though – in the last frame is that a tentacle?!

OK, enough FreakAngels (except to say that the Google Earth file has been updated).

I’ve finally bitten the bullet and put Abandoned in Perth out of its misery. It’s been sitting in a state of abandonment (how ironic!) for almost five years, and I while I’ve been taking photos of plenty of derelict sites I just haven’t had the time to process them all and get them up.

I haven’t abandoned the concept however, as almost all the photos from the site (and a whole lot more) are now up on my Flickr account. Flickr makes everything so much easier, so expect the Abandoned in Perth collection to grow and grow! (Assuming that is that I can find more places to photograph).

OK, that’s all for now.

(Ah! It’s art!)

Flickr Mania

Photo fest…

Well I somehow seem to have managed to avoid pneumonia. Good. Work is currently hellish however, so I haven’t had much time to do anything let alone write any decent blog entries.

I have however been easing my frazzled nerves at the end of the day by uploading a whole bunch of old photos to my Flickr account. Most notably of the derelict South Fremantle Power Station and the old ANI Foundry in the same area.

I’ve also put up a few pics of Perth’s sad attempt at a Chinatown, photos of William Street before the whole place was demolished for the railway and an absolutely massive spider.

Enjoy!

New Adventures in Aspiration

I drank the slab that Bon Scott drunk…

As all should know, Bon Scott was the original lead singer of ACDC and is famous for shuffling off this mortal coil by choking on his own vomit after a marathon drinking session.

The reason I recount this sordid tale is because last night I almost managed the same feat – albiet without the aid of alcohol (and of course the very fact that I’m writing these words shows that I didn’t shuffle off any coils – unless Edison has finally got that spooky telephone working).

It happened thusly. I was woken in the early hours of the morning from a particularly unpleasant dream about my tax return by my stomach deciding it would be fun to void its contents through my throat. I managed to avert this plan by reflexively jerking upwards into a sitting position, clamping my jaws shut and (and yes, this is an unpleasant detail, but necessary) swallowing for all I was worth. This avoided one catastrophe, but started a second as I suddenly found myself completely unable to draw breath – some of my liberated stomach contents apparently having decided to head for my lungs rather that back to where they belonged.

After a good deal of coughing, choking, wheezing and gargling I was able to free my airway and resume normal respiration. The slight shortness of breath and mild chest pains I find myself subject to today however suggest that I may be in line for a bout of aspiration pneumonia, which should be plenty of fun.

I’ll keep an eye on it.

In other news, how did I not know that Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin were born on the same day? Happy (late) 200th birthday Mr Lincoln!

Vale Lux Interior

Another one bites the dust

I just heard that Lux Interior – founder of the Cramps – has passed away at the age of 60. Boo.

I’ve never really heard much of the Cramps, but I like what I have heard. Psycho-Billy is good stuff, even if it the name was invented as a marketing stunt.

My main memory of the Cramps is from when they appeared on some Andrew Denton program back in the early 90s. Denton managed the probably rather remarkable feat of rendering Lux speechless by informing him that in Australia “Lux” is a brand of dishwashing detergent. They then went on to perform Swing the Big Eyed Rabbit.

Farewell Lux!

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