Saturday, July 22, 2006

Tom/DVD Compatability: None

As a follow-up from last compatibility segment, I apparently suck with DVD players as well. Or they hate me. Or something along those lines, because yesterday, a task as simple as watching a Black Books was damn near impossible. Well, it was more of a problem getting back to watching normal TV.
Now normally, and by normally I of course mean for everyone but me, when you have finished watching your DVD, you pick up the DVD remote (coincidence?), point it at the DVD player and press the "TV" button. Not very hard. However, for Tom, it requires picking up the dvd remote, pointing it at the DVD player, pressing the "TV" button, having the TV go blank, hitting the "AV" button, having the TV somehow go a different kind of blank, hitting the "AV" button again until it was back to its original "I'm going to fuck around with Tom" state, trying the "TV" button again, this time getting a totally different response (but, of course, not the right one) and this process goes on until the hapless DVD victim is forced to either break the damn DVD player, or just give up.
And of course the solution is simply to get someone else to do it. But no-one else was home. So I gave up. when I arrived home, my older brother took one look at the TV, picked up the remote, and pressed the same "TV" button that I had been pressing, and pressing it only once, and it working perfectly. But thats the way technology works I guess.
I find it simply amazing how things manage to break only for me. All I really need to do is want to use it, or perhaps even look in its general direction and it totally fucks up. I'm sure there will be several more segments on how technology has a distinct hatred for me in the future. Hooray for technology! That is all.

T.

Monday, July 17, 2006

On The Way To Turramurra...

Tonight, and lets not go into why, I walked from Hornsby station to Waitara Maccas, to Turramurra station, then proceeded to catch the train back to Hornsby station and walk home. This whole ordeal cost me $6.65 and from it I had dinner, and managed to somehow aquire a bottle of Coke and a packet of chips. But that isn't why im blogging. Why I'm blogging is because of the stupid things along the way.
My adventures start when I was in the bathroom before I left. I looked through the overpopulated shelf in which the shampoo (say no to shampoo, demand real poo), conditioner and other crap sat, and I noticed something on the shelf that caught my eye. There was a bottle of moisturiser there that was "Vaseline Intensive Care" crap. Now, never before has it occured to me how stupid it is calling a face cream "Intensive Care". It may just be me, but when I hear intensive care, the first words that spring to mind are "hospitalised", "incapable of taking care of themselves" and something like "in a coma". Therefore this face cream stuff would not appeal to me, as my face can in fact, function without the aid of a hospital. However, now I know where to go if my face is ever hospitalised.
As I left Hornsby, I walked past the entrance of the Westfield car park and noticed the "Conditions of Entry" sign. I then started to realise several things wrong with it. The sign was placed in the most convenient of spots, about 30cm from the entrance, on a wall that people aren't even thinking about looking at, as it is actually on a tight corner. As well as the horrid placing, the font size of the sign was about 10 (and I'm not making this up), so it was near impossible to read unless someone was to notice the sign in the first place, stop in the most illegal of positions, get out of the car (before someone runs up the back of you) and walk up to the sign to read it. I'm so glad that that is the case, because who knows, the conditions of entry might be that the are given permission to beat you senseless upon entry. Super.
Then, as I progressed further on my exciting adventure, I walked past the Millenium Gym in Waitara. As I walked past, I could look through the front of the shop (as the entire front of the shop was glass), into a reception area. I walked past the front door, and on the window next to the door, something once again caught my eye. There was a sign taped to the window, pointing to the door, stating "Entry Door". Once again, it could just be me, but it appeared that ther was only one door. How on earth was anyone going to mistake that door for anything other than the entry door? There was no other door or entry into the gym, and it was clear that that was the entrance because it was possible to see into the gym. But I guess some people need that pointed out to them.
As I approached Turramurra station, there was a gate in the middle of the footpath, leading to nowhere, with absolutely no surrounding fence. It was just a solitary gate. What's the point? Need I say more?
I better be off though, I think my face just fell into a coma, or needs an iron lung, so I better get the face cream. That is all.

T.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Tom/TV Compatability: None

Yesterday, I was happily watching TV, channel surfing, when everything went wrong. All of a sudden, the remote just froze up. I don't know how, and it has never happened to me before, but the TV kept doing its thing, but the channel selection thing froze (we have cable TV) and nothing I did would change it. I tried hitting every single button on the remote and the remote said it was still working, and the receiver said it was still receiving, but nothing changed.
Now I'm not one that is naturally all that good with technology, and by that I mean that if its modern, just touching it probably means I have already broken it, but this was just uncanny. Im not actually so stupid that I can not operate a television remote, but for some reason this just wasn't working. So finally I decided to get up and fuck around with the set-top box thingo. I hit every button, nothing. So I thought, fuck this, I'm going to just unplug it and plug it back in. The only trouble was that when I removed the plug the damn thingo continued to be frozen. The power didn't cut out. Not even the video or sound cut out. Nothing changed. How the hell can you unplug something and it continue to fuck up? I guess it's just my compatability with things of the technological sense, non-existent.
It took me pulling 3 plugs to even cut the sound out, and I think I had to remove every bloody plug before the power cut out. And when I plugged it back in, it all worked perfectly. Thank you technology. No really, thank you. That is all.

T.

Friday, July 14, 2006

It's Been A While...

Well, it definately has been a while. But my next enrty actually comes out of a book written by Bill Bryson, titles "Notes From A Big Country". The book is a collection of magazine articles he wrote in a British after he just moved back to America (New Hampshire to be exact).
Ahh, the uncontested stupidity of Americans, it never ceases to amaze me. The first enrty is as follows;

"Now here is something that seems awfully unfair to me. Because I am an American and you, bless your heart, are not, it appears that I am twice as likely as you to suffer an untimely and accidental death.
"I know this because I have jsut been reading something called 'The Book Of Risks: Fascinating Facts About the Chances We Take Every Day' by a statistical wonk (to use the engaging new American slang term for a boffin-type person) named Larry Laudan.
"It is full of interesting and useful statistics, mostly to do with coming irremediably a cropper in the United States. Thus I know that if I happen to take up farm work this year I am three times more likely to lose a limb, and tiwce as likely to be fatally poisoned, than if I just sit here quietly. Now i know that my chances of being murdered in the next twelve months are one in 11,000, of choking to death one in 150,000, of being killed by dam failure one in 10 million, and of being fatally conked on the head by something falling from the sky and one in 250 million. Even if I stay indoors away from the windows, it appears that there is a one in 450,000 chance that something will kill me before the day is out. I find that rather alarming.
"However, nothing is more galling than the discovery that just by being and American, by standing to attention for the "Star-Spangled Banner" and having a baseball cap as a central component to my wardrobe, I am twice as likely to die in a mangled heap as you are. This is not a just way to decide mortality, if you ask me.
"Mr Lauden does not explain why Americans are twice as dangerous to themselves as Britons (too upset, I daresay), but I have been thinking about it a good deal, as you can imagine, and the answer - very obvious when you reflect even for a moment - is that America is an outstandingly dangerous place.
"Consider this: every year in New Hampshire a dozen or more people are killed crashing their cars into moose. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but this is not something likely to happen on the way home from Sainsbury's. Nor are you likely to be eaten by a grizzly bear or mountain lion, butted senseless by buffalo, or seized about the ankle by a seriously perurbed rattlesnake - all occurences that knock off a few dozen hapless Americans every year. Then there are all the violent acts of nature - tornadoes, rockslides, avalanches, flash floods, paralyzing blizzards, the odd earthquake - that scarecly exist in your little, tranquil island, but kill hundreds of Americans every year.
"Finally, and above all, there is the matter of guns. There are 200 million guns in the United States and we do rather like to pop them off. Each year, 40,000 Americans die from gunshot wounds, the great majority of them by accident. Just to put that into perspective for you, that's a rate of 6.8 gunshot deaths per 100,000 people in the US, compared with a meagre 0.4 per 100,000 in the UK.
"America is in short a pretty risky place. Any yet, oddly, we get alarmed by all the wrong things in this country. Eavesdrop on almost any conversation at Lou's Diner here in Hanover and the talk will all be of cholestorol and soduim levels, mammorgrams and resting heart rates. Show most Americans an egg yolk and they will recoil in terror, but the most palpable and avoidable risks scarcely faze them.
"Forty per cent of Americans still don't use a seat belt, which i find simply amazing because it costs nothing to buckle up and clearly has the potential to prevent you from exiting the windscreen like Superman. Even more remarkably, since a spate of recent newspaper reports about young children being killed by airbags in minor crashes, people have been rushing to get their airbags disconnected. Never mind that in every instance the children were killed because they were sitting on the front seat, where they should not have been in the first place, and in nearly all cases weren't wearing seatbelts. Airbags save thousands of lives, yet many people are having them disconnected on the bizzare assumption that they present a danger.
"Much of the same sort of statistical illogic applies with guns. Forty per cent of Americans keep guns in their homes, typically in a drawer beside the bed. The odds that one of those guns will ever be used to shoot a criminal are comfortably under one in a million. The odds that it will be used to shoot a member of the household - generally a child fooling around - are at least 20 times that figure. Yet over one hunderd million people resolutely ignore this fact, even sometimes threaten to pop you one themselves if you make too much noise about it.
"Nothing, however, better captures the manifest irrationality of people towards risks as one of the liveliest issues of recent years: passive smoking. Four years ago, the Environmental Protection Agency released a report concluding that people who are over thirty-five and don't smoke but are regularly exposed to the smoke of others stand a one in 30,000 risk of contracting lung cancer in a given yera. The response was immediate and electrifying. All over the country smoking was banned at work, in reseraunts, shopping malls and other public places.
"What was overlooked in all this was how microscopically small the risk from passive smoking actually is. A rate of one in 30,000 sounds resonable severe, but it doesn't acutally amount to much. Eating one pork chop a week is statistically more likely to give you cancer than sitting routinely in a room full of smokers. So, too, is consuming a carrot every seven days, a glass of orange juice once a fortnight, or a head of lettuce every two years. You are five times more likely to contract lung cancer from your pet budgie than you are from secondary smoke.
" Now I am all for banning smoking on the grounds that it is dirty and offensive, unhealthy for the user and leaves unsightly burns in the carpet. All I am saying is thatr it seems a trifle odd to ban it on grounds of public safety when you are happy to let any old fool own a gun or drive around unbuckled.
"But then logic seldom comes into these things. I remember some years ago watching my brother buy a lottery ticket (odds of winning: about one in 12 million), then get in his car and fail to buckle up (odds of having a serious aciident in any year: one in forty). When I pointed out the inconsistency of thing, he looked at me for a moment and said: 'And what are the odds, do you suppise, that I will drop you four miles short of home?'
"Since then i have kept my thoughts pretty much to myself. Much less Risky, you see."

And that is the first of several entries that I am likely to include into this blog written by Bill Bryson. I suppose you could call this Part One of the Stupidity of Americans - Self inflicetd injuries, etc. but even this part has at least another entire article to write on it that will arrive here shortly.
To put it bluntly, Americans suck at taking care of themselves, although they seem to think they have to take care of the rest of the world. My advice to them is simple; learn to take care of yourself first, then worry about the rest of the world and whether you need to take care of it. Start off by trying to avoid moose for a start. That is all.

T.