Cablog

It's a Jungle

Here's the scene early this morning outside BourbonBird's 21st birthday party at Three Wise Monkeys on George Street. I told her I'd join them for a drink but it was a struggle all night long. Finally at 1am I got there only to find outside the venue was a crime scene ! The joint was gridlocked with traffic, a huge queue and the entrance taped off by the cops. Apparently someone had been glassed. A television crew were there so I guess there will be some press confirming this. (images enlarge)

Across the road is the Hungry Jacks which figured in the current issue of Investigate. For those who haven't read my story it involved a kid stabbed 10 times, after Hungry Jack's security refused shelter for the kid. Talk about a wild precinct.

An hour before this I ran over a cat in Woolloomoloo. It darted from the shadows, a blur in front of the cab. Before I could reach the brakes I felt a slight bump and heard the sound of scraping claws on the bitumen. At the time I had an old woman in the back rabbiting on about something or other. All I could do was brake and check my rear view mirror but there was nothing there. Unbelievably, the cat had kept going !? It all happened in a micro second. So I drove on and the passenger droned on, unawares.

Right at the end of the shift two fellas jumped in at Broadway. I knew immediately one had been fighting as his face was all puffed up. Whilst in the back of another cab, a mate had snapped and punched him in the head, six times. As they'd been mates for 10 years my passenger, the victim, had refused to retaliate. As real mates often do. Blokes, sheeesh....   

Extras

Here's some extra stuff happening around the traps which have caught my eye...

• Check out the Discovery space shuttle launch from the chase plane
• The world's fifth largest motor yacht visits Alaskan waters
• Dirk shows off more impressive farm equipment
• Alan, now Zoe, shows off her new gender change
• Bored Norweigan peacekeepers perform a funny music video on Kosovo - best played loud (via Debra)
• A blog covering what Aussie food bloggers are eating and drinking

The Perfect Bush

Yesterday I took advantage of a free day and headed out of town. For some time I’ve been meaning to travel up the Windsor road north west out of Sydney. My destination being the Blue Mountains to visit the Mt Tomah Botanic Gardens, some 100 kilometres from the City.

Years ago when working around rural New South Wales, I would travel this route home every Friday afternoon and return to work Monday morning. It was little surprise to find the Windsor Road is still the Windsor bloody Road. But the Bells Line of Road over the mountains is the feature of this trip as it traverses the orchards of the foothills, then hauls itself over the peaks on it’s way to the Western slopes and plains...

Earnest Idiots

A couple of weekend encounters in my cab has demonstrated the folly of listening to the radio news whilst carrying passengers. The current hot topic is the London bombings and the subsequent forecasts of increased security. The issue has galvanised folks in a way not seen since the last Federal election campaign.

What really annoys is the way some passengers assume I support their idiotic opinions. These people think because I am willing to pass the time of day with them, they can make outrageous statements which I won’t challenge. Bullshit, often I will, just for fun. And at other times it would be an insult to my intelligence not to challenge some of the ludicrous propositions put to me.

For example, you’d be surprised there are people who actually believe terror attacks on Western cities are the work of Western governments ! These clowns, regular Aussies, have bought the argument put out by radical Muslims that such attacks are government plots attempting to discredit peace-loving Muslims.

Last night, I couldn’t help but laugh at a seemingly peaceful, new age, inner-city fella. I told him, ‘Mate, whatever you’re smoking - change brands !’. He duly got out yelling, ‘Well, if you’re happy living in our fascist dictatorship, good ! HAVE A NICE FUCKING DAY !’. And with an almighty force, he slammed the door. Nice.

There’s another group way out in the suburbs who insist the time is coming when they’ll recover their trusty shotguns from the attic and take to the streets. Their intended targets are ‘the fuckin’ press, Muslims, lefties and scumbags who have perverted the Australian way of life our parents fought wars for, RIGHT !?’. Yeah, whatever mate.

Whilst I can’t help laughing at these people either, the exchanges carry an increasing air of malevolent resolve, not witnessed before. Which has me thinking - let’s just hope we don’t have a terrorist attack in Australia. The ramifications for our tolerant society could be disastrous.

Nobbling Warnie

The Oval. End of play. ABC Radio...

Henry Blofeld : On a day when Shane Warne was at his brilliant best, Mike Gatting is there anything England can do about Shane Warne, anything they can do tomorrow they didn’t do today ?

Mike Gatting : Yeah, keep the covers on.

Pathetic. It’s that sort of defeatist attitude which dogs English cricket. The sort of attitude from which their phrase, ‘glorious defeat’ was born. Can you imagine Australians reacting like that ? No way, we’d be on the front foot looking to exploit any opposition weakness. Right now English cricket could do a lot worse than seek to do the same thing. The obvious one being Warnie’s penchant for mobile phones and certain types of blondes.

If the Poms had done their homework, then from Day 1 Richard Branson would have mobilised a bevy of blondes armed with Virgin mobile phones to engage in a full body assault on Warnie’s free time. Then they could move on to Brett Lee. So by the time the first ball was bowled, both Warne and Lee would be buggered from all night sessions with the ladies. If English cricket can't manage that, then a good starting point would be to sledge like Aussies.

More snaps

Here's an historic church in Top Ryde.

Also I just found this image of a truck at a Sydney Boat Show last year mysteriously promoting something other than boats.

This cabbie is to be avoided at all costs due to his love of bad art, weak tea and appalling jokes. The bloke's so ugly I've spared the reader any offense by blurring his face.

Finally at Bronte Beach a tribal sticker for the 'Bra Boys.

(images enlarge)

My Perfect Day

My Perfect Day is an eye catching term yet purely subjective. Still, I figured I'd share it with you. Yesterday I awoke at midday in the middle of a three day break and seeing the glorious winter’s day, decided a visit to the country was called for. It’s truly therapeutic after pushing a hack around the City, night after night. And despite spending my day off in a motor vehicle, it’s entirely different in one’s own time. A means of escape if you like...... (images enlarge)

August Investigate

Gees, it doesn't get much better than this - the Man of Steel coming straight at you. (image enlarges) I can just hear the sound of countless scraping chairs from proud Aussies responding as one to the call, 'All Rise !'.

And yes, the magazine is out now due to distributor hiccups morphing the July Investigate into an early August issue. Doesn't matter though as the magazine is well worth the wait.

A summary of this edition's leading articles,

1. Is the ABC covering for a plagiarist ? Alan RM Jones wonders why 'Media Watch' keeps turning a blind eye to a certain big-name columnist's very bad habits
2. Jungle War: Matthew Thompson delivers an exclusive report from the frontline of Australia's war against al Qa'ida in the Phillipines, with stunning photography by Renae Carlson
3. Pain at the Pump: Is Australia - and the world - running out of oil ? A look at why petrol prices are hitting record highs (and what we can do about it)
4. Behind the Scenes at a Revolution: An insider account of John Howard's new Senate majority - plus an interview with Shadow Foreign Affairs Minister Kev Rudd

Suffice to say all the usual contributors you've come to know and love are once again in top form. As forecast I've produced a neat story titled, That's My Boy which I think you'll enjoy.

In addition to my Diary page I'm featured in this issue's Contributor's section. An extra which the editor requested as I was rushing off to work. So I punched out a quick 200 word resume of dubious content. In mentioning my fledgling book project I rounded the piece out with this flippant comment, 'So buy it, you cheap bastards !'. Which to my horror was published !

At the risk of offending readers allow me to put this seemingly impertinent quote into context...

New Mobile Tele

A recent item from The Australian's Technology section really caught my eye - mobile TV. Tele broadcast to a mobile phone, not from a 3G service but via a dedicated TV application called DVB-H, from The Bridge Networks. This tool enables greater reliability of signal reception than video broadcast to 3G mobile phones.

I was especially interested in the news a trial has just commenced using 1000 Nokia 7710 video mobile phones around Sydney. And who better to join the fun than yours truly ? So I've just fired off a late application to join the trial. DVB-H sounds like the perfect antidote to my interminable waiting on quiet City ranks. And no longer will I miss seeing Desperate Housewifes ! No wonder the City's so dead Monday nights. (image enlarges)

Cold, Hot, Cold

The middle of winter in Sydney means one thing - cold nights. At 2.59 am the temperature is 7.6C. (Why don’t computer keyboards have a ‘temperature-degree’ icon...?) And the middle of winter in Australia also means snow. A quick check of Thredbo reveals,

The top to bottom cover is in awesome shape after Mother Nature's 10cm top up last night. Up high it's light, dry and windblown with some sweet powder pockets to rip into. The lower trails have been groomed up a treat, they're firm with a nice fresh cover to ride.

Consequently every fare from the Airport last night kicked off with, ‘How cold is Sydney?’. And it was only later at 1 am when stopped for a cabwash I found out. Watching the team of cab-washers working in the cold and wet with bare hands brought to mind the years I’d worked outdoors in the elements. Usually resulting in hands of dry cracked skin, too painful to clench. I’m getting soft, I mused, sitting in a warm cab all night. But then I’ve done the years of hard yards, so I don’t care...