Cablog

Funny Girls

After nine hours and some twenty fares last night I had nothing worth reporting. Yet as so often happens, it’s not until the last fares when interesting stories start presenting themselves. Largely due to the liberating effects of excessive boozing.

Outside an inner-city hotel a large group of young people hailed me. Four piled in for a City bar. They were all in their mid-twenties and two girls tumbled in the back, laughing hysterically followed by two fellas, one sitting up front.

The girls were really drunk and started mock wrestling, whilst the fellas being somewhat more sober were self-contained and not so boisterous. Yet all were happy, frivolous and chatted freely with the easy comfort of workmates. I quickly established the girls were nurses and the fellas were trainee nurses.

Dominating the atmosphere was one girl who proceeded to insist she would happily ‘jump upon’ her female colleague,

• Female colleague - (laughing) ‘What - to administer mouth to mouth ?’.
• Dominant girl - (laughing) ‘If I had to, of course’.
• FC - ‘Oh right...(laughing)...just like Mr. _______ !’.

(Both girls laugh hysterically)

• DG - ‘Well, these things happen...(laughing)
• FC - ‘Sure do - the guy died !’ (laughing)
• Front seat fella - ‘Who died !?’
• FC - (laughing) ‘Her patient !’.
• FSF - ‘Oh my God, how ?’.
• DG - (laughing) ‘_________attack’.
• FC - ‘But she couldn’t resuscitate him !’.

(More laughter between the girls)

• DG - ‘Well, he started vomiting this white stuff and urgghh...I just couldn’t do it. So I went and called the MO but he never came. By the time a ____ team arrived it was too late’.
• FSP - ‘What do you mean, white stuff ?’.
• DG - ‘It was a milkshake...(both girls laugh hysterically)...he wouldn’t take a shower in the morning but he kept asking for a milkshake...(laughing)...so I bribed him with a milkshake. I got it for him later, in my lunchbreak mind you ! (More laughing)...I mean it wasn’t my fault the MO didn’t come in time. The patient had been pressing his buzzer so much the MO....
• FC - ‘What was up with him, chest pain ?’
• DG - Aw, he was complaining of all-over pain and I asked the MO for pain relief but....like the guy was buzzing every fifteen minutes and you know, the MO didn’t think it was necessary’.

(Brief silence)

• FC - ‘Then he died’.
• DG - ‘He died’.

(Both girls laugh uproariously)

• FC - ‘But it’s not your fault babe, don’t...’.
• DG - ‘No, no, listen yes it was ! I should have tried resuscitating him, but...these things happen’.

The subject changed to the MO’s fearsome reputation and shortly after we arrived at the City bar where they quickly alighted to continue their partying.

Strangely, as chilling and callous as this conversation sounded, I wasn’t shocked. Rather I recalled a previously exchange between nurses on which I’d recently reported. Further confirmation hospital care standards are less than perfect. Sad but true.

Smoking

Okay, confession time - yes, I smoke; no, I’m not proud of it; yes, I know I shouldn’t; no, I don’t feel guilty. Another admission - I really enjoy smoking. There, I’ve said it.

Actually, the moment I start feeling guilty about smoking is probably the moment I'll suddenly go downhill and die from a smoking related illness. Otherwise statistics say I have a fifty-fifty chance of surviving smoking. Which is not to say I'm blind to the risks.

It’s just I’m not going to entertain the idea of dying nor stress-out over it. I figure I’ve gotta die of something. Or as Kinky Friedman says, ‘Find your poison and let it kill you’.

Last night I hit the supermarket for my regular carton of fags. Instead of the relatively discreet packaged carton this is what the checkout chick presented me with. ‘No, you’ve got the wrong brand’, I said, not recognising my usual carton. She waved it in my face and sneered, ‘This is it - they’re now in a new carton’. How embarrassment.

Sure enough, the six-pack of cigarettes was wrapped in clear cellophane to reveal gruesome images of deformed teeth, clogged arteries and pock-marked lungs. All thanks to the new health legislation on cigarette labelling.

Now I’ve smoked for some thirty four years, and have no previous smoking related illnesses. Indeed, I’ve always considered smoking had protected me from a myriad of colds and flu viruses others contact with regularity. Whilst I won’t deny a possible smoking related condition nothing so far has manifested, or caused me any problems.

Nonetheless these new cigarette pack images depicting smoking diseases are grossly unfair and patently duplicitous. In particular the image of rotting teeth and mouth cancer has me wondering at what stage that particular case was recorded. After thirty four years of smoking my teeth and mouth by comparison look fine, once 52 years of wear and tear are factored in. (images enlarge)

Sure, my arteries and lungs would present a different picture but I’m not going there, nor need to. I undergo regular check-ups; I don’t have circulatory issues; my lung capacity is okay; why should I stress over their condition ? Do drinkers get hit with disgusting images of cirrhosis of the liver ? Are heavy meat eaters assailed with images of bowel cancer ? Why single out smokers ?

Undoubtedly smoking is potentially a serious health risk and I for one intend to quit one day. But the point I’m making is how can the Government, who share a mutual addiction to cigarettes (via taxes), conduct such a vicious campaign against smokers ?

For the record : Revenue attributable to tobacco products collected by the Australian Tax Offices (ATOs) Excise Business Line (EBL) in 2000/2001 totalled A$4.8 billion, ($5.09 billion estimated for 2003-04) which accounted for 24 per cent of total excise collections in that year.

By comparison, 

In 2002 (NSW) more than $152m pa spent on treating tobacco-related illness.

Furthermore, a seventy percent tax on cigarettes contributes to health, transport and welfare services, etc, so the argument smokers drain health services is surely specious.

Another thing. In recent times the anti-smoking lobby has become so hysterical it now decrees against smoking outdoors !? Which demonstrates their campaign is not only personal but an urban middle-class attack on the working poor, rural folk, young blue-collar men, unemployed people, lone parents, Indigenous people and men from Asian, Mediterranean and Baltic countries. Those who represent the largest sector of smokers.

For many smokers life is an absolute bitch as they struggle with everyday burdens and pressures in order to maintain control. I'd suggest if it wasn’t for cigarettes there would be more people losing it and flooding our health and welfare services, to name but two.

If cigarettes are a legal method used by people to cope with daily life, then smokers deserve not to be absolutely pilloried and made to feel like pariahs. As with these appalling images. Indeed, self-obsessed junkies receive more government empathy than smokers, who pay large taxes to smoke. In fact heroin addiction may well be easier to defeat than tobacco.

Either the authorities make tobacco illegal and forego the huge excise revenue they rely upon, or cut the discrimmination and allow us to reform without the guilt trip. They can’t have it both ways. At the same time, they can apply the same criteria to alcohol and gambling, just to be consistent.

Feel free to convince me otherwise...I'm open to alternative viewpoints on the issue.

Obvious

The Sydney Morning Herald is the best newspaper in the country, comprising some of the most astute journalists Australia has to offer. I've always said that....

For example, today's Herald lists the ten most important blogs, from some 33 million blogs worldwide.

The big news is an Aussie blog made the cut - have a guess who ? It's obvious really...

New Beauty

Sydney is currently hosting the annual Australian Fashion Week, sponsored by McDonalds. Err, Mercedes. Once again the main venue is at the overseas passenger terminal opposite the Opera House.

Around 11 pm I flicked down there hoping to catch some stragglers for the inevitable yet short journey to Elizabeth Bay, Darlinghurst, Paddington and parts thereof. Areas where most fashionistas tend to roost.

Emerging from Wildfire restaurant a middle aged businessman hailed me for a trip to the North Shore. ‘So you with Fashion Week ?’, I inquired. ‘Nah, just entertaining some clients for dinner’, he replied. ‘However a bunch of models came into Wildfire for dinner’.

This would be the girls from the last show of the evening, seeking a lettuce and carrot salad I guess. ‘How were they looking, beautiful ?’, I asked. ‘Absolutely’, he said. ‘They could park their motors in my bedroom anytime’. ‘Yeah, but then you’d have to talk to them’, I suggested, ‘which may be a problem given many of them aren’t even old enough to vote, let alone maintain a decent conversation’.

We had a laugh and got to discussing beauty. He struck me as a successful and sophisticated cove so I was keen to hear his opinion. ‘You know’, he said, ‘there’s only three defining characteristics for female beauty - skin, teeth and clothes. Get that right and a woman can get away with anything ’.

This would be comfort to those girls and women lamenting the lack of high cheekbones, mysterious eyes, luscious lips, slender necks and other so-called attributes of classical beauty. Features decreed by fashion models, style magazines and the cosmetics industry.

My passenger related a recent encounter with Sophia Loren. ‘I was in Turin for the Winter Olympics and attended a sponsor’s party one night. Sophia Loren was seated at the next table and I’ll tell you something. At what - she must be seventy years old now - mate, she still looks sensational. Her skin was unblemished and obviously she protects it from the sun’.

I wondered if this was not due to some cosmetic surgery. ‘Okay, I don’t know if she’s had work done’ he replied, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t. Many European women age so well, because of their weaker sun. And probably the diet too. Her décolletage was magnificent, though she probably used a super bra, plus her butt was cut and tight. Mate, what a women’.

Hmm, is age seventy the new thirty ? Cathy Seipp relates an experience where her seventy year old father gave evidence in a courtroom. After his cross-examination by a mid-fifties female lawyer, Seipp suddenly realised the lawyer was hitting-on her father,

Probably, I realized, she did want his bod. And why should he not think so, given how Hollywood encourages this attitude? So far, he’s seen As Good As It Gets three times. I could see my future, and it wasn’t pretty. I think that’s when I started my eyebag fund.

So we can all relax. Middle age no longer heralds the beginning of the end but rather time for cruise control. Keep out of the sun, get those teeth fixed and party-on! Groan...

Gah Gah

There's something magical about holding a four week old baby. The way they settle on the arm; their little claws grasping a finger to suck; relaxed in the safety and warmth of another body; the pacifying effects of the mighty St George guernsey. It's all too easy to imagine this is the way they are, all the time, but it's not of course. Try this quick quiz: what two things can babies do simultaneously that adults can't do ? Answer : swallow and breathe.   

Anzac Day

After Australia Day which celebrates our independence, today, Anzac Day is the most important day of the year. For this day commemorates an event ninety one years ago when a contingent of Australian and New Zealand troops stormed ashore at Gallipoli, Turkey. Encountering unbelievable resistance they quickly overpowered the Turks, captured the Dardanelle Straits before marching on Berlin to win World War I in a canter. All done by lunchtime.

Actually I’m lying, but quite possibly this is what many of their countrymen and women half-expected. Australia in 1915 was that young and naive. The truth is the Anzacs barely made it onto the beach and beyond, pinned down by a small but well-disciplined Turkish force who laid siege on our positions for some eight months. The loss of life was as momentous as it was tragic. In short, the Anzac campaign was an abject failure - we was thrashed mate.

On Anzac Day however the result is not at issue. More importantly, in acknowledging the event plus the Turkish victory and attendant losses, Australians recognise that Gallipoli is synonymous with all soldiers’ courage and sacrifice in the face of extreme adversity, regardless of the politics which sent them to battle. Anzac Day bears witness to this extraordinary human condition.

Last night at work I struggled to find people willing to discuss our sacred day. It would appear that for many, today’s public holiday is actually Barbeque Day. Admittedly I only made a dozen or so inquiries but no one was planning to attend the Dawn Service or made any fitting remarks on the day’s significance. But that’s inner Sydney for you.

Speaking of which, right now at 4.00 am the strangest phenomenon is occurring. Taxis are delivering veterans, servicemen and attendees to the Dawn Commemorative Service, at the Cenotaph in Martin Place. They usually travel in silence, barely awake yet quietly reflecting on why they are making the effort.

Travelling down William, Oxford and George Streets they are greeted by hordes of wasted clubbers, waving for taxis to take them home and sleep off their all-night revelry. Whilst waiting at traffic lights each party will exchange bemused and watchful looks, but generally passengers won’t comment. They don’t need to.

There’s something deeply symbolic about this weird juxtaposition of Aussies on Anzac Dawn, but I’m too tired to work it out. After ten hours in the saddle I feel like I’ve been clubbing all night too. Before retiring though, I’ll go to the kitchen and salute the picaninny dawn on this auspicious day, Anzac Day. Lest I forget.

(Image enlarges)

The Swans

Last night I carried a director of the Sydney Swans Australian Football Club, the 2005 AFL Premiership winners. AFL claims to be Australia’s national football code and figures would tend to bear this out,

an estimated 8,799,000 Australians over the age of 14 support an AFL team

In a country of 20 million that’s pretty impressive especially given there are three other competing football codes - rugby league, rugby union and soccer.

There is big money involved in each sport and none bigger than the AFL which has recently signed a $780m television deal. My passenger crowed how financially viable the Swans now were, after their relocation to Sydney from South Melbourne 24 years ago. This after years spent as a financial basket case.

Which probably explains why the Swans have no dedicated clubhouse. They only have a social club in the Sydney Rules club in Kings Cross, a different entity to the Swans FC. Otherwise supporters have no clubhouse to congregate under the Swans banner.

Can anyone tell me if this is a unique situation in AFL. For example do Collingwood have their own Leagues club ? Or the Brisbane Lions ? Who else doesn't have a clubhouse ?

In other Swans news here’s some interesting marketing facts related to their supporters, when compared to all AFL supporters...

Transport Bloggers

Thought it'd be fun to do a round-up of the various cabbie, trucker and farmer blogger/operators I know of....(sole farmer-blogger that is)....

• Farmer Dirk spends Easter at the Roma drags, where else. Great image of a junior dragster using a heavily modified lawn mower engine
• New York Hack Melissa posts an image of a hybrid taxi, the Toyota Prius. Hybrid taxi trials using Ford SUVs in New York and San Francisco now deemed successful
• San Jose cabbie Joann scores a photo op with Arnold the Terminator
• Barrow (UK) cabbie Bob observes on passengers homes and presentation
• Hawaiian cabbie Wil has a fantastic night
• Kuntry Kabbie (Aus)Turner Mitteron reports on the perfect passenger
• Canadian cabbie FreddyBeach lists some of his most memorable passengers
• London Cabbie sounds like he needs a vacation. I know how he feels
• Aaron the trucker faces suspension for log book violations. Cruel
• Team truckers Wayne and Cindy are currently transporting show cars around the States in their new Volvo and trailer. Truck images in sidebar

Finally, "mashups are one of the fastest-growing areas of web development". It utilizes GPS technology to track anyone or anything and displays the results on maps. One mashup is operating in San Fransisco as an arts project. Cabspotting is an interactive website which tracks the paths of a number of taxis around the Bay Area in real time.

Beautiful Blue

A couple of years back my son, after three months of brutal chemotherapy treatment was given the all-clear from cancer. Whilst he was fortunate it was Hodgskins Disease and relatively survivable, it was still enough to scare the pants off him. And me. Of course his Mum had kittens but that’s to be expected from any mother learning her child is stricken with a serious illness.

Yet despite the initial all-clear, our champion has undergone regular post treatment check-ups, as his body slowly recovered from the trauma. These tests have provided mixed results with some indicators being satisfactory(blue) and others not so (red).

Yesterday however his most recent test showed all 'blue' results for the first time since treatment. So finally it can be stated with confidence he has achieved full recovery, a cause for much relief for him and quiet celebration within the family. Hallelujah.

Good news worth going wild over and last night I consumed not one, but two glasses of red wine ! It was a beautiful blue day for our much loved son, so here’s a phone-video I’ve dedicated to him, shot late last year. It’s 4.3MB and opens in Quicktime.

Image enlarges-courtesy of bigfoto

Karma

Right now at 2.29am in the middle of April the temperature is around 22°C, some 8°C above normal. But what’s normal anymore ? Old aborigines had a term for such un-seasonal weather - sickness weather.

Actually last night the whole shift felt distinctly weird, with little encounters out of the ordinary. Maybe it’s to do with tropical cyclone Monica, currently crossing Cape York. I figured it couldn’t be related to a full moon as the moon is waning and only half-full.

Whatever was going on impacted upon me late in the shift with a couple of events I can only attribute to 'karma'. Whilst I’m unsure if karma even exists, let's pretend it does.

Earlier in the shift a young woman reminded me I’d forgotten to start the meter. Whilst this is an occasional mistake on my part - it usually occurs when distracted commencing a journey - passengers rarely bring this oversight to my attention. At the end she wanted to tip me but I wouldn’t hear of it as she’d already saved me money.

Much later around 12.30am, I realised I’d forgotten dinner. This was probably due to having stopped around 9 pm to join my son for coffee. A break which had me subconsciously thinking dinner was already done. So I stopped on Enmore Road at an Indian restaurant heavily patronised by cabbies, Indian cabbies of course.

Despite being down on my earnings and with little prospect of further work, I elected to order and wait for a meal, rather than do the usual fast order of 3 dishes and rice, eat and go.

After an hour of relaxed dining whilst reading the newspaper, I paid the $13.80 bill with a twenty dollar note. The Indian waiter returned with $16.20 change, thanked me and turned away. He had miscalculated by ten dollars so I called him back and made the adjustment. That got him smiling.

Climbing back into the cab I noted the empty streets, signifying the night was finished and so decided to knock off. I faced a twenty-five minute trip back to my base in the suburbs, a dead run with no passengers. The usual procedure on a weeknight.

However 200 metres up the road two fellas hailed me, climbed aboard and ordered the exact suburb where I was headed ! This sort of luck may happen once a year and instead of earning a lousy hundred bucks for the night, I took an extra thirty five bucks. Call me lucky or call it karma. Or pure sweet confirmation there is a dog after all.