Okay. Post-return hiatus will be ending shortly - blogging shall return.

From my mother: An article on the un-Australian-ness of the Outback Steakhouse.

Readying for departure.

Tonight we went to a little going-away party in my honour, featuring the people I've met here, and one I hadn't met before who's staying at C's house at the moment. It was pleasantly enjoyable; they're nice people. I'm even going to miss some of them.

Driving home, there was fog across the whole place. Very beautiful; I took some pictures, one or two of which may even come out nice when blown up past the titchy digicam screen. I find myself perturbed at an image whose beauty I noticed but did not stop to capture.

I'm sleeping on the couch tonight.

Being horizontal has issues with a persistent cough I have going on - that, and I've lost my voice, but other than that I'm mostly recovered from my illness. On the couch, I can sleep half-sitting, and breathe.

It reminds me of the last time I had a bad cough at home. I slept in the lounge, in my father's recliner chair. Half sitting, half curling up on the very comfy chair, subliminally aware of being surrounded by the scent of my father. I can't really say what he smells like, because he just smells like Dad - comforting, in a way, because it's warm, and it makes me feel like I'm three years old again, sitting in his lap, which I always, always loved.

Of course, this couch smells of poodle. Far less satisfying.

What with the thing where I've been sick for a week, not a lot's been happening. We saw Two Towers again - oh, I love it so.

I am a gigantic sook.

For I call Australia so I can talk to my mother for about forty-five seconds before she goes to work, just so I can tell her I'm sick and have her feeling sorry for me.

The Nature Of Rae being such that above all else, when I'm sick, I want my mum.

And a meat pie, for no other reason than that I can't have one, I think. Stupid America.

Why I have the best mother in the whole universe.

From e-mail:

Today on K-Mart's "50% off" sale I bought a set of 3 DVDs: "The
Vintage Performances", "The Modern Masters" and "The Streak", which
is not about naked runners but about the Aussie Test winning
streak. I haven't watched them yet, but they look good! Total
time: 278 minutes.

What a last day's cricket today! I've kept the highlights for you.

I love my mother.

"I'm a mama's boy. I pity tha fool who isn't." - Mr T. AT&T ad.

Race humour in America

I've been watching a lot of Comedy Central. There's been a whole bunch of standup comedians on.

The one I'm watching right now, Carlos somebody, is an interesting one. A fundamental rule of standup: only non-whites do race comedy. This guy not only does a lot of race comedy, he goes on the point of that.

He says that white people don't have freedom of speech like non-whites. "You don't believe me, white people? Monday, tell my jokes at your work." His fundamental thesis seems to be "get over it, people, let's have FUN".

With which I kind of sympathise, because his jokes aren't nasty. Some of them I kind of disagree with, but he isn't offensive. He's making fun of everyone, not one group, which always helps, and he has some genuine social commentary in there. (One of the ones I found interesting was his pointing out that, though he was born in Honduras, if he's in the south-west he's Mexican no matter what he says, but if he goes to Florida suddenly he's Cuban.)

And one thing he said is the essence of Political Correctness Gone Huh. Apparently there's a thing where Hispanic people found the Taco Bell chihuaha offensive, because it represented them. Carlos: "How retarded do you have to BE to look at a DOG and say 'hey, that's me!'?"

I think he's right in that the world would be a better place if people just calmed the hell down. On the other hand, political correctness was necessary when it started.

Middle ground is good.

Something that may be significant.

Michael Palin and John Cleese are on this episode of Saturday Night Live. (Yes, they are the funniest thing going, they're Palin and Cleese.)

What sketch do they get put to do, on SNL, with the top writers of SNL available?

The Parrot Sketch.

The Monty Python one.

Though I don't remember, did the original end with Michael Palin inviting John Cleese back to his place?

So, the best the writers of SNL can do with star comedic material like John Cleese and Michael Palin is resurrecting Monty Python. (But then again, what's funnier than an ex-parrot? Whose metabolic functions are of interest only to historians? And who has ceased to be?)