After Grog Blog

FUNNY STUNT

Living in Kalgoorlie in 1988, I missed Melbourne's run to the Grand Final.

My Demon maties regularly tell me about that year's Preliminary Final. Sorry. No rousing Grand Final success story here I'm afraid.

About Gary Lyon's goal from the wing. About Steven O'Dwyer's criminal suspension. About how good Jamie Duursma was on Steven Kernahan.

That rainy September day Duursma flogged Kernahan and all the talk was about how Kernahan spent the whole game running after Duursma, trying to kill him. Everyone thought it was because Kernahan had been getting a hiding.

Courtesy of an old Warren Dean interview - carefully cut out from the Worst Australian and preserved in hospital strength Domestos - it turns out everyone was wrong:

As for the funniest stunt he's seen on a football field, Dean says he can't go past a Carlton-Melbourne clash in 1988.

"Jamie Duursma was given the job on Steven Kernahan, who was in pretty good form at the time," Dean said.

"Before the match he put his finger up his backside and wiped it on the bridge of Kernahan's nose. True story."

"Kernahan spent the next five minutes trying to knock Duursma's block off. He certainly succeeded in putting him off his game."

THREE-BEAT! THREE-BEAT! THREE-BEAT!

Last night I was explaining to some friends why I didn't want Collingwood to win the Grand Final....

Eddie. He's done a great job for the Pies, but accompanying him everywhere - that IS everywhere - would be his smug, shit-eating grin to remind us.

Woey. Having him win a premiership and thus being told over and over again how Melbourne had made a dud trade would be extremely painful.

Tommy. You don't know him, but he runs my local pub, and he's a rabid Collingwood fan. A summer of "FLAG PIES!" and "GO PIES!" and "GO BUCKS!" and "Go Deeeeeeeeeees. Go Deeeeeeeeeees." would have meant me moving to Heard Island. I don't want to do that.

Scrubbers-y. Along with Woey, the thought of Rhyce Shaw, Ben Johnston, Leon Davis, Tristan Walker and Brodie Holland - Richard Cole just escapes - winning a flag would kick me into injustice overload. It just wouldn't be right.

It's fair to say I didn't want Collingwood to win.

However, that doesn't mean I don't want them to play IN the grand final. I hope they make it next year too. And lose by a point after the siren because Bucks gave away a soft free and then mouthed off to the umpire and got fifty. And I hope they get beaten by the Deeeeeeeeeees.

MINNOW MAULING MAYBE

This doesn't bode well....

A near-full strength Zimbabwe.....Playing a Rockingham-Mandurah club team boosted by six WA squad members, Zimbabwe was dismissed for 149 on the first day of their three-day practice match at Settler's Hill in Baldivis.

As much as any Aussie cricket fan I love to smack up the Poms, Sarth Effies, Windies and Kiwis, but zapping the Zims just doesn't float my boat.

ME RIGHT ME

Woewodin smart trade. Heffernan better player. I go now.

BLOG MEET = BLEAT

Gareth's got this up and so's Yobbo, but what the hell. When in Rome, don't be a Christian....

Hi all,

It's been threatened for months now, but Sunday is it: the inaugural Perth blogmeet. While we have the pleasure of Tony the Teacher's company in the State of Excitement, what better time to finally sit down over some beers and be silly?

When: Sunday 28 September - THIS SUNDAY!!!
Where: The Queens Hotel, Mt Lawley
Time: from 2pm

Be there or be square, and post a note on your blogs so we can any Perth readers along as well.

Cheers
GP

No. Not GP - Gram Parsons. GP - Gareth Parker. The Grievous Umpire.

Yeah! Come along and meet bloggers, non bloggers, blog readers and juice-heads who landed here because they couldn't spell Ample Grog Boags.

Personally I'm hoping to avoid that arse-head Tony the Teacher. Jesus! What a loser! Any chance we can burn him?

Expect the news of the world to be discussed. Objectively, of course.

And football talk. You'd be most welcome in the unlikely event you can read AND have played footy in the Upper Great Southern, Great Northern or North Pilbara. Free cool drinks - yep, I'll buy - for anyone who's played for Narrogin Towns, Brigadoons or the Wickham Wolves. If you can't beat 'em, Wickham! Misplaced Demon supporters will get special attention.

Political debate is assured. To whit, a supplimentary call goes out to anyone who might have worked for Cliffs Robe River Iron Associates, Robe River, Robe or whatever the hell it's called now. I'd like to hear those union bashing stories again. Good times.

Signed
Tony The Engineer - NO! I don't drive trains!

PS: I hope this works. Collingwood are CERTAINTIES!

SPANKERS REQUIRED

This is probably not a good thing....

THREE 13-year-old girls from the most expensive private school in WA have been caught trying to sell a homemade pornographic video.

Bad girls.

HUZZAH?!?

I mean. Howzat?!? Jesus.H.Midwicket! It's been so long I'd forgotten how to appeal. Unlike Collingwood. Ha! Ha! Anfernee!

Anyway, bugger footy, season finished four weeks ago. Cricket coming! And so's sledging. Howzis?!?

Update: Shane was a little troublesome so I've put him to bed.

BALLROOM BLOTZ

Bomber boys bag Brownlow bints.

GROUNDHOG STATE

Cue the Sonny & Cher music because I thought when I woke up this morning I was back in 1981.

Just like back then, Eoin Cameron was doing the ABC Breakfast Show....

Eoin Cameron brings his wealth of experience to Breakfast radio. He's a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy so come along for the ride from five each weekday morning.

For an ex politician (Liberal member for the Federal seat of Stirling) Eoin makes a mighty fine radio announcer. He's actually been on air since 1969 and been on just about every Perth radio station including of course the ABC.several times.

Known for his acerbic wit and larger than life personality Eoin is an early riser and relishes the opportunity to wake up before the birds each weekday morning.

When he is not at work Eoin enjoys cooking but not renovating, he does a bit of gardening. He likes old American cars and would love to own one, and he reads.a lot. Eoin will say that when he's not at work he eats, sometimes with a drink or in fact just with a drink!

Confirming my timewarp, he was discussing a listener's poll about "Best Driving Songs". Among others, Born To Be Wild, Fat Bottomed Girls, Hotel California, Let's Stick Together and Bat Out Of Hell. Radar Love was metioned at which point Eoin exclaimed, "Wow! That's a blast from the past!" As if the others weren't also!

Fortunately Eoin brought the ABC Tardis in for a three-point appearance when he mentioned that ear-gougingly painful Mitsubishi song. It can only have been a couple of years ago that song was drilling holes in my cranium.

Highlight of the show came courtesy of the newsreader....

"....Swedish foreign minister Anna Lindh who was stabbed on September the Death...."

However, Perth's still a fine place and I've already been out to buy records. The weather's better in Melbourne though. Always has been.

Sadly no contact yet with local wildlife, but I'll keep looking. Am about to decamp in search of faded raggery.

EMBLEM INSPECTION EXPEDITION

Hot on the heels of a successful Insect Eradication Campaign - so successful the inhabitant moved as well - I'm off to assess the condition of various Western Australian flags.

While there I also plan to investigate those mysterious rumours that stone-wash jeans are still popular, peanut butter is called peanut paste and that Channel 7 rates well.

And I may even pay a surprise visi....err....bugger.

I'm going now.

TIGER BURNS BRIGHT

Martin Flanagan's not my favourite sports journo - bit too Billy Deane for me - but in Sat'dee's Age he's got a fine tribute to Brent "Tiger" Crosswell....

A novel is needed to explain Crosswell. He was an intellectual and a footballer at a time when Australian culture didn't recognise you could be both.

No ordinary footballer, he was twice voted best on ground in a grand final. He responded to big crowds and big occasions.

In his own words: "Give me 80,000 people at the MCG and I was Hercules. Give me a grey day at the Western Oval and I wasn't worth a cracker." Flamboyant, unpredictable, little understood, Crosswell left Melbourne, his third and last club, in 1982, and returned to Tasmania a few years later.

At the start of 1993, I visited him in Hobart. I was then thinking of writing a novel about football, about a black player and a white player in the one team.

Crosswell had begun his own football novel, three handwritten pages in a notebook. He read them for me.

They were about an older player going back to the game with mixed motives and realising he has lost the purity of belief that drives the young players.

By the time he finished his reading, my novel had shrivelled and died; there was such power and conviction in what he had written. Crosswell's novel never appeared. In all, his entire output probably doesn't exceed 20 pieces.

Sadly, for some time now, Tiger's suffered from Meniere's Disease and the balance problems attendant to the disease have restricted his ability to write and appear in public.

That's a crying shame.

I remember in the mid-nineties he wrote a marvellous article about his ability - surprised him that he still had some - to catch a bar of soap in the shower, and his associated co-ordination problems. I think it's the last piece he wrote and I discussed it at length with a friend of mine. We both agreed he was the best footy writer going around.

Not long after he appeared on the Footy Show and completely eclipsed resident "high-brow" Sam Newman. Not so hard you might think, but to be fair, Sam's no slouch in a public forum. Especially when he's able to shine in the company of the usual footy fools and Street Talk lurkers.

However, it was back in 1982 that Crosswell provided me with one of my favourite footy moments. Don't forget in '82 he played at Melbourne with Mark "Jacko" Jackson and Peter "Crackers" Keenan. Bring on the dancing pandas.

This day at the MCG Demon coach, Ron "Five Year Plan" Barrassi, had him playing at full-back on North's Malcolm Blight. Blight would go on to kick a hundred goals for the season.

Blight had been on fire, and if I'm not mistaken, Barass had started Robbie Flower on the North champion. Needless to say, Flower was moved out and Crosswell moved in. Tiger had always been Barrassi's "Mr Fixit".

The ball was kicked in high to the North Melbourne forward line and Crosswell and Blight, as the only two players in the vicinity of the drop, proceeded to engage in an extravagant wrestle for position. Crosswell virtually headlocked Blight and eventually managed, in a tangle of arms and legs, to throw him to the ground. And out of the contest. Or so he thought.

Blight had snaffled the mark while lying on his back.

The Tiger's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Then he stood there, mouth agape. He looked in hope at the umpire. No deal. Again down at Blight. He leant back on the balls of his feet. He put his hands on his hips. He gave a loud and visible FAARRK. He shook his head and shrugged.

And started clapping.

TIGER TORMENTS TYKE

You heard it here first....

Beware The Balla Rats

A rumour email - thanks Teejay Al Tikriti - is a good email....

Who was that player? AFL currently running a promotion across country Victoria where we take the Premiership Cup and various medals (Brownlow, Coleman, McHale, Norm Smith etc) out to AFL stores for people to see. Which player in Ballarat last night didn't realise that we were using the real medals and gave away the 2004 Coleman Medal to a seven-year old kid? Medal retrieved this morning, with embarrassed AFL store giving signed jumper to family of disappointed young would-be Coleman Medallist.

Who indeed?

Today indeed....

Tiger's Medal Blunder

WATCH out Matty Lloyd and David Neitz - Wayne Campbell is trying to give away next year's Coleman Medal.

The Richmond skipper has left a Ballarat boy broken-hearted after accidentally giving him the 2004 AFL leading goal kicker award. Campbell mistakenly believed he was giving a replica medal to 11-year-old Tigers fan Branden Sternberg, only to be told he had handed over the real thing.

Branden, who along with Campbell will celebrate his birthday today, was devastated [Get over it kid!] to learn he would have to hand back his treasure.

[Boo Hoo! Just give it back!]

The Tiger champion said he had no idea [What's new?] that he was giving away the coveted medallion, which was named after Essendon champion full forward John Coleman.

[You mean it's NOT named after mustard? Or West Coast Coolers?]

"This kid said he barracked for Richmond, said his birthday was coming up and it was the same day as mine -- so I thought I'd give him a present," he said.

While that was the end of the story as far as Campbell was concerned, back at the Sternberg household the drama was just beginning.

Branden's father Gary said his son initially refused to give back the goal-kicking award before turning his anger towards the Richmond footy club.

"He'd gone into his bedroom, so I went to see him and there is all his Richmond stuff in a neat pile in the passage," Mr Sternberg said.

What's with the Tiges and piles of shit?

GIMME TWENTY

With his bold claim that Gimme Shelter is the Best Ever Rock & Roll Song, Tim Dunlop's opened the gate and let the wild horses bolt. Three posts already out there and mine on the way. Although I notice the Pirate Pundit is yet to nail his colours to the mast. Yet.

As it happens I know of three friends who, at one time or another, have sworn black and blue that Gimme Shelter is the best ever Stones song. Two of them, like Tim, have said it's the best ever song. Full stop. One of them's even called Tim. And if I strain my mind back to 1977 when we first got a double cassette of Rolled Gold, I'll swear my brother was of the same opinion. My first love was Midnight Rambler.

Sadly Tim - Dunlop that is - doesn't post a list of other Stones favourites so's we can gauge where he's coming from. After all, if he also raves about Start Me Up, Fool To Cry and Angie then, frankly, there's a credibility issue that needs addressing.

Personally? Well, as far as I'm concerned Gimme Shelter is a striking song. I suspect producer Glyn Johns had a freer hand with it – and You Can't Always Get What You Want - but it seems somehow wrong when pitted against the better stuff on Let It Bleed.

There are at least five better songs on that album. All of which sound more like what the Stones did best. Namely Stones brand rock 'n' roll. So for me it's not Number 1, or even the best song of, like, ever dude. I'll say one thing though, it's got a killer filmclip.

Over at HBD, James is also on board and gives us an excellent list. Good to see Satanic Majesties' Citadel, 2000 Man and 2000 Light Years From Home. However, we're in the same timezone with our sixties psychedelia so them being there is not surprising.

And Chris over at Troppo has also weighed in with suggestion that Exile's Let It Loose is the best Stones song. In actual fact, I agree with that. No debate necessary. It IS - big letter shout - their best song. What's more, it's fantastic late at night when you're with other Stones fans and you've had a few cleansing beakers. Sing along with Tone. Tonelessly. Not forgetting Elvis's American Trilogy. Live, of course. "Hit it boys!"

Anyway, for what it's worth and in no particular order, here are my top twenty Stones songs....

It's All Over Now
Flight 505
It's Not Easy
I Am Waiting
Jumping Jack Flash
2000 Light Years From Home
Child Of The Moon
Street Fighting Man
No Expectations
Dear Doctor
Let It Bleed
Midnight Rambler
Monkey Man
Live With Me
Dead Flowers
Moonlight Mile
Rocks Off
Loving Cup
Sweet Virginia
Let It Loose

Bonus Track: Faraway Eyes - It always makes me laugh.

I've never been a huge rap for Satisfaction or Honky Tonk Women, and as you can see from the list, all the songs bar one fall into Chris's early to middle era. Aftermath, where they invented white-boy blues, the much maligned Satanic Majesties, Beggars, Let It Bleed, Sticky and their pizza with the lot, Exile on Main Street.

Of their non-core era I'd like to have included songs like Silver Train, It's Only Rock & Roll, Melody and Respectable but twenty's a pretty fair sample and they were up against some stiff competition. I've gotta draw the line somewhere.

And I never even started in on the live tracks....

"For the next hour. Is everybody ready? We're sorry for the delay."

Update: This seems like as good a time as any to run a poll. So I've chosen my ten favourite Stones albums and put them over on the left.

By the way, Fame won the last one, but I care less than all of you not put together. They were all crap.

DOWNTIME'S UP

Had interesting things to write today, but when I logged on about half past lunchtime the DW was DoWn.

Bailz was on the case and it turned out there was a glomp in the colonel and the kiloborks got re-ringted through the UK and lost somewhere under the Canary Islands. Meanwhile. Peter stared at naked women. Adam thumped a fare-evader. Gareth paid a shocker in the goalsquare. Sam slept.

But we're back. Things anon. Interest provisional.

FAST PEACE?

In today's Australian Christopher Pearson's shiny smiling orb beams down on a column that contains the following sentence....

In fact, pace Bhagwati, the system has probably always been captive to American lobbying interests.

It may well be a misprint (says) but, if not, what's "pace" mean?

COW FLAUNTS UDDERS - VIEWER SHUDDERS

Udders talk udder nonsense....

MEDIA personality Kate Langbroeks decision to feed her baby on national television was described yesterday as a brave public stance on the benefits of breastfeeding.

In what may have been an Australian television first for a show of its kind, Langbroek calmly fed the child on Wednesday night during Ten networks talk show The Panel.

The Australian Medical Association Queensland president, Dr Ingrid Tall, said the needs of the child always came first.

When Tall, short on sense, says "the needs of the child always came first" she obviously means "take them into a noisy TV studio and make them the centre of attention".

I'm with The Hack. As a push-it-down Protestant prude I'd suggest breast-feeding shouldn't be treated as an obvious stunt, and would be best served in a calm nurturing environment. Like home.

Take it inside, alleycat.

DUNCAN TO DRINK ALONE

Vale Slim Dusty....

Legendary country music entertainer Slim Dusty has died aged 76.

Lights On the Hill....

Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh-yeah

It's a long straight road and the engine is deep
I can't help thinkin' of a good night's sleep
And the long long roads of my li-ife were a callin' me

These rough old hands are a-glued to the wheel
My eyes full of sand from the way they feel
And the lights comin' over the hill are a-blindin' me

It's a long tough haul from a-way down south
A man's gotta find a little bread for his mouth
And a home for a girl as sweet as my honey can be

So it's down through the gears, she's a startin' to pull
The gauge on the tank is a-showin' they're full
And the lights comin' over the hill are a-blindin' me

There's rain on the road, I can feel the load start a-shiftin'
I-i-in a dance
Too late, I see the post and I haven't got a coast of a chance
Ah-hah-hah-no

The windscreen wipers are a-beatin' in time
The song they sing is a part of my mind
And I can't believe it's a-really happenin' to me

Oh, but I'm over the edge and down the mountain side
I know they'll tell about the night I died
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin' me
Hey!

There's rain on the road, I can feel the load start a shiftin'
I-i-in a dance
Too late, I see the post and I haven't got a coast of a chance
Ah-hah-hah-no

The windscreen wipers are a-beatin' in time
The song they sing is a part of my mind
And I can't believe it's a-really happenin' to me

Oh, but I'm over the edge and down the mountain side
I know they'll tell about the night I died
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin' me
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin' me

ABC - THE LEXICON OF LUST

Today I received two carnally conjoined emails - Name Suppression Application in operation - detailing dirty doings.

First....

A's wife B has been caught potting C again. The first time was the reason C was traded to a club outside Victoria. Turns out C was there before D and is now back in Melbourne playing in the V.

A has had it with B and is going to live in the bush and may announce his retirement, hence why E took a lower pay offer at his club as he has been told he will be captain next year.

The other....

Tone, have you picked up on the latest B goss? Told she's rooting some old footy flame who has come back to Melbourne, playing in the V. A apparently has said "stuff this" and has moved out and has intentions of finishing footy career in the bush, probably S.

I print. You deride.

BEWARE THE BALLA RATS

A rumour email - thanks Teejay Al Tikriti - is a good email....

Who was that player? AFL currently running a promotion across country Victoria where we take the Premiership Cup and various medals (Brownlow, Coleman, McHale, Norm Smith etc) out to AFL stores for people to see. Which player in Ballarat last night didn't realise that we were using the real medals and gave away the 2004 Coleman Medal to a seven-year old kid? Medal retrieved this morning, with embarrassed AFL store giving signed jumper to family of disappointed young would-be Coleman Medallist.

Who indeed?

St ELMO'S DIRE

Or - Tony the Teacher Takes a Tub

I just received this e-mail - thanks Tweedy Pie - which made me wonder if the 90's will ever be as "fondly" remembered as the 80's....

I was working part time in a five and dime. My boss was Mr. Magee. He was six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian, but I was happy to be stuck with him.

One manic Monday, while I was busy working for the weekend, I overheard him make a careless whisper. He told two of my co-workers, Jack and Diane, that I gave love a bad name. Well, I got so emotional, baby. I told him to say say say what he wants, but don't play games with my affection. He told me it was hard for him to say he's sorry and not to worry, to be happy. Then he blamed it on the rain.. He was so out of touch. It just took my breath away. I couldn't fight this feeling any longer. I asked him "What's love got to do with it?" He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car. So I figured I might as well jump.

I cut footloose, went home and called my girl, Jenny. (You already know the number.) She was on the other line with Amanda. They were talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That blew my mind! Was she really going out with him? I told her that I had just called to say I love her. She told me she had been saving all her love for me, but now she was looking for a new love - asta la vista, baby. I thought "I can't go for that - no can do! Bring me a higher love!"

I called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would want to get physical all night long (all night). First I called Billie Jean - she told me to beat it. I called Rosanna - her sister Christian blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me. Come on, Eileen! ... no answer. Nobody told me there'd be days like these! I was feeling like the owner of a lonely heart. Then, out of the blue, my best friend's girlfriend (she used to be mine) Roxanne calls. Yes, the real Roxanne. She told me she still hadn't found what she's looking for and that she wanted to take on me. I said "I thought you were Jessie's girl." She said "Don't you want me? You don't have to put on the red light - I'm on my own." What a feeling! I had the eye of the tiger. Who was I f-f-f-foolin'? Roxanne drove me crazy like no one else. She's a beauty! She blinded me with science, and weird science at that. There was always something there to remind me of her and I just knew that I'd have the time of my life. I wasn't about to la-di-da-di.

I jumped in my little red corvette and rocked down to Electric Avenue. I got my mind set on her. When I got to her house (in the middle of her street) I ran. I rapped on her front door and to this rapper's delight, I heard a voice say "Who can it be now?" "Here I am, the one that you love", I replied. I let my love open the door and was immediately lost in her eyes. I felt like a virgin touched for the very first time. She loosened her blouse and said "Rock me Amadeus!" Well, I felt it was my prerogative to bust a move. I told her "I'll tumble for ya!" as I pinned her on the stairs, hungry like the wolf.

Just then I felt an invisible touch on my shoulder. "Turn around bright eyes!" said a familiar voice. As I did, Jessie hit me with a sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me right round like a record. He was hangin' tough and continued to roll with it, knocking the wind from beneath my wings - broken wings by this time. He rocked me tonight, for old time's sake, beating me from head to toe, until my true colors were black and blue and blood was spilling from my mouth like red, red wine. "You don't owe me money for nothing!" he snarled.

At this point I was livin' on a prayer. I crawled back to my little red Corvette and drove home thinking about how my tainted love had cut like a knife - how it seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn.

No longer do I want to know what love is. Love stinks.

Memories. What DID happen to my grey shoes with the velcro straps?

COME PLAY WITH ME

The Chairman of the Adelaide Faction of the South Australian Branch of the Terry Wallace Admiration Association might be interested in an item in today's Age.

First, some deep background.

On August 17 I posted on John Elliot's book, Big Jack: My Sporting Lie. One of the comments therein related to the former Bulldogs coach, Terry Wallace, and his remarks on player movement between clubs....

Former Carlton President John Elliot has claimed Terry Wallace said he could bring a $250,000 sponsor and a well known player to the club if the Blues gave him the coaching job.....

...."There are rules in place that would not allow that (bringing players) anyway," Wallace said.

Nonsense! My point - concomitant to Wallace being a habitual truth evader - is that it doesn't matter what rules are in place, if a coach want to convince a player to swap clubs, there's little to stop him doing so.

That was then.

Today Dwayne Russell's article on how Fremantle's Arnaud James Clement came to be Collingwood's James Clement further highlights the point....

Clement has openly admitted what many around him have long known: that the Dockers were never his club of choice, and that from day one, he wanted to play under Malthouse.

"I got taken by Fremantle initially through their concession picks and I think, like all kids, I wanted to go to West Coast because they were a successful team," Clement said.

By adding, "Since that day, Mick had always given me a courtesy call or run into me probably once a year and suggested that I come and play for him", Clement confirmed that his relationship with Malthouse - which has blossomed since the pair united at Collingwood in 2001 - started growing beneath the surface back when Malthouse was still an Eagle and Clement still a Docker.

It is difficult to know exactly where the AFL draws its wide blurred line between admirable inter-club friendship and illegal AFL player poaching, but the sting in this tale of courtship-and-recruiting triumph has left a scar that [Former Freo coach] Drum has no choice now but to smile at.

"At the end of the day, Mick got the player he wanted and he was prepared to use any means to get him," Drum said.

Then, he added, with the ironic slant of a modern-day politician: "Mick has done the right thing by his club in pursuing a player not only in contract, but contracted for the following year."

No doubt there are footy fans who'd be surprised by this revelation, but I'm sure Terry Wallace isn't counted among their number.

ROLLING STONE RAT SHIT

True. It's been a waste of paper since 1979....

Bring Me the Head of Jann Wenner: Rolling Stone is the awfullest magazine ever. I say this knowing full well that there are many, many awful magazines out there, now more than ever, perhaps. But weeping Jesus on the Cross, Rolling Stone is just so awful, so very, very awful awful awful. Whether it's the spectacle of a magazine run by an aging, Eagles-loving gay millionaire putting Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen on the cover and headlining it as "America's Favorite Fantasy," or putting Britney Spears on the cover--again!--in a pose so transparently and badly airbrushed that it makes even a Photoshop tyro like me want to put his head through his computer monitor, there seems to be no lengths to which this horrendous publication won't go to pimp teenage girls in an effort to win over young readers that is likely to be about as successful as Dino De Laurentis's remake of King Kong, but with less charm and more, you know, appallingly immoral teen-girl body-image mindfucks.

Read More....

Via Jim Treacher.

HE SCORES!

I've said it before - I'll probably say it again - but it's virtually pointless interviewing footballers. Most responses are a content free melange of "yeah, no, one-week-at-a-time" clichés.

And should the interviewee happen to emit a cluster of semi-connected words that may, in exceptional circumstances, be described as humourous, dash outside and check for a blue moon.

Or - thanks to Dick the Swamp Burner's email - maybe you're listening to QPR boss Ian Holloway....

To put it in gentleman's terms, if you've been out for a night and you're looking for a young lady and you pull one, you've done what you set out to do. We didn't look our best today but we've pulled.

Some weeks the lady is good looking and some weeks they're not. Our performance today would have been not the best looking bird but at least we got her in the taxi.

She may not have been the best looking lady we ended up taking home but it was still very pleasant and very nice, so thanks very much and let's have coffee.

Long black. Two goals.

BADNESS

Worser. Pure evil.

LESSON 1 - ANGLE GRINDING

This is a teacher's blog. I'm a teacher. Didn't know that did you? I bet you also didn't know I live in a mysterious and exotic place. It's the place to be.

As a dedicated educationalist I try to help parents relax. And I've never even once asked for a 10 per cent pay rise a year over three years.

However, I've also got a part time job. I find things. Your most prized possessions, food, answers to questions of a theological nature (in funny writing), even fugitive Baath Party Officials.

What I'm not, though, is The Angle Grinder Man!

Or am I?

Yours Suspiciously
The After Grog blogger

SHOPPING FOR A PARTNER

Not what it sounds like.

This morning on the radio there was some talk about supermarket romances. Host Darren James made a passing reference to an old joke which I've managed to dig out of a petrified log, carbon date, photograph, run past Bert Newton and finally reproduce here for you in full....

A lonely single guy was in Safeways and approached the checkout. He plonked his basket on the conveyor counter and started to unload it. One Cup-O-Soup, one jar of Pablo, one box of Barby Shapes, one tin of Whiskers, one pack of Burger Rings, one box of Paddle Pops, one pack of Tim Tams, one carton of PJ Extras, one bottle of Coke, one roast chook and one Two Minute Noodles....

Lonely Single Shopper - "Hello."

Checkout Chick - "Hoy."

LSS - "Busy?"

CoC - "Noooo."

LSS - "Slow day?"

CoC - "Yeaahhh."

LSS - "You've got a nice smile."

CoC - "Thanks."

LSS - "Worked here long?"

CoC - "Noooo."

LSS - "Like it?"

CoC - "S'okay. $23 ployze. You're single aren't you?"

LSS - "Sigh. Yeah. How do you know? The groceries, right?"

CoC - "Noooo. You're ugly."

SLIDGING

I must have been asheep asleep. That's the only reason I'd muss thus....

The New Zealand netball team could be promiscuous or ugly, depending on which side of the Tasman you are standing - and whether you agree with the Australian coach, Norma Plummer.

Plummer stirred up controversy after labelling the Kiwi netballers "a bunch of scrubbers" because of their style of play.

But the term holds different meanings in each country.

Australia's Macquarie Dictionary defines it as "(derogatory) an ugly girl or woman" while the New Zealand Oxford Dictionary says it means "(offensive) a promiscuous woman" or "a person of rough or unkempt appearance".

Macquarie or Oxford? Who cares! Either way they come off as badly dressed butt ugly sluts.

I've written plenty of times that football interviews are basically a waste of time due to their clich�d nature. Hopefully Plummer's trans-Tasman taunt will open the floodgates.

Because sexy sexist issues aside, this is the type of material we've been needing for years.

The following exchange from Car Insurance Park would take on a whole new complexion. Instead of....

Graham Cornes - "How's my hair look? Are we on yet? Whaddaya reckon Kevin? How good was Gavin Wanganeen tonight?"

Sheeds - "He's a marvel. Wonderful player. I wish he'd never left Essendon."

We'd be treated to....

Sheeds - "Wangafraud is a kick chasing, play acting, umpire suck who was lucky to win a Brownlow. I hope he breaks his leg next week."

And what about Docker's foreman, Chris Connolly? Surely he's one guy who'd find the status quo tedious....

Adrian "Barra" Barrich - "Bad luck Connells. The Eags just a bit too good today?"

Connolly - "Yep. A fine side. And Phil Matera with seven was unstoppable."

Boring! Wash his mouth out with milk. No doubt he'd prefer....

Connolly - "They paid off the umpire. And Cheater Matera kept ducking out the back for easy goals. He's never won a hard kick in his career. I wish there weren't any cameras at the game."

Or former Bulldogs brevity butcher Terry Wallace....

Dipper - "Tony Liberatore was fantastic today on Paul Kelly."

Wallace - "I required him to deliver %110 of direct opponent accountability coupled with saturation negation and leather object rebound transference wherever possible. He gave me %120."

He might even trim off some fat-speak....

Wallace - "Kelly's a dangerous fucker. I told Libber not to cut his finger nails for eight weeks and to go for the eyes."

Bring. It. On.

This morning I was flicking

This morning I was flicking and caught some of the Channel 7 Sunday sports gabfest.

The guest they had in was former Aussie athlete Dave Culbert and the topic up on offer was the recent performance, or lack thereof, of our ath-er-letes at the World Champs in Paris. I think we only won one medal.

One reason mooted was the quality of the coaching. After all, it's the coaches that are paid (by us) to prepare the training regimens of the competitors.

Part of the preparation discussed revolved around fitness timing. That's the notion that competitors fine-tune their preparation so that they're at their best when it matters most. I think tapering was mentioned - come to think of it, I haven't heard that in a while – and peak performance levels. There may even have been the odd stepping up. I can't be sure though. It's pretty hard to separate the clichés these days. And when they're droned by Paul Salmon I tend to fall…zzzzzzzzz.

Sorry 'bout that. They expanded on the preparation aspect and whether the emphasis placed on a lesser event like the Commonwealth Games took away from the focus that may be better re-directed to other more important championships.

Whether there is actually any talent was skimmed over, but some names were mentioned – Tamsyn Lewis, Georgie Clarke, Matt Shirvington and Patrick Johnson – but they squibbed any direct criticism.

The panel's consensus – host Joanna Griggs is a medallist - was that the Commonwealth Games are small beer when compared with the Worlds or the Olympics. And that it's not good enough for Aussie athletes to coast on their Commonwealth Games successes and yet continue to flop – with the obvious few exceptions* – at the bigger meets. And that successful Commonwealth Games competitors get an extravagant amount of attention in the Aussie media.

They then cut to an fluff piece on swimmer Sarah Ryan – a fair piece in a down-home way – who is now a radio "personality" in Brisbane. The caption....

SARAH RYAN
Commonwealth Games Swimmer

With that in mind - does anyone in Sydney, Adelaide, Perth, Darwin or Brisbane want a house guest in 2006? And bearing in mind I live across the road from the MCG, does anyone want to rent a few rooms here at the same time? I'm prepared to negotiate. I've got three TV's, some Vegemite and a bathroom.

* Now, I KNOW you can only beat who you play on the day. Never the less, I'll risk hate-mail by suggesting that although Cathy Freeman's win in Sydney was a fantastic moment, it mightn't have been the strongest field ever assembled.

RIP JACK RIPPER. Err, JACK TRIPPER. Ahh, JOHN RITTER

Way back when Sherman, there weren't too many American sitcoms on the ABC. The Governor And JJ, The Ghost And Mrs Muir and Three's Company are about all I recall. I recall they were awful. But I may be wrong.

Anyhoo, as I've mentioned before, telly in the 1970's has a strange and lasting resonance for me. With that in mind, Adios John Ritter....

Actor John Ritter, who gained fame playing bumbling and lovable characters in a pair of television comedies decades apart, has died, a representative said today.

Ritter was best known for his portrayal of Jack in the 1970s situation comedy Three's Company and recently he starred in the series 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, a centrepiece of broadcaster ABC's upcoming autumn schedule.

John Ritter was the son of country singer and actor Tex Ritter. Details of the circumstances of his death were not immediately available.

Irregular heart condition, apparently.

Dunno.

Dunno.