After Grog Blog

THE BREAST WING

Caught Commander in Chief last night. Anyone else see it? Geena Davis plays a US vice-president who comes to the top job after the previous president dies of a brain aneurysm. Female to the chief!

It was alright, as far as American TV goes when it's aimed at families. (It was aimed at families, wasn't it?) Tight, with no mucking around setting up the series, it got you into the swing tout suite. But by fuck they laid on the shmaltz! The youngest daughter was very annoying in the honey department, the fuckin' snookums, out of the lips of babes and all that crap. And Davis' maiden speech as president before congress was your typically trite TV melodrama.

Bible toting bad guy Donald Sutherland is also heavy on caricature, delivering some farcical lines. (Although I liked his closer.) But you'd hope an experienced actor like him would be able to adjust his performance to a more sensible tone. Then again, Sutherland the long-time activist, might just see this as a chance stick it to the Republicans, pulling out all ham to make them look like a bunch of lunatics.

Which brings me to the political business - it's not as if you can miss it with things being set in The Whitehouse and all. The show is, to be blunt, fiercely left wing. But, funnily enough, that's not something that bothers me these days because, well, I'm used to it. How often are TV Republicans portrayed as good guys? Not very often, I'd suggest. It would be more than a little surprising if the president and his staff were a bunch of well-intentioned GOP grandees, and the vile schemers a hoard of rabid Tammany Hall headkickers.

I'll watch it again next week, and probably for a few weeks after that, too, but unlike West Wing which was grouse for at least a couple of seasons, I've a sneaking suspicion I'll be tuning out before the end of the season. Not sure why, just a hunch.

PS: Does anyone remember Patty Duke as president in a TV show called Hail To the Chief? I only ever saw it once or twice and rather liked it, despite it being a bit of a fuck-up. But with a cast including Murray Hamilton, Dick Shawn and one of my all-time favourite actors, John Vernon, it was a bit of a giggle. As far as I can remember, anyway - it may well have been utter rubbish.

SPORTS BRIEFS

1) Graeme Smith is a very good batsman and it was only a matter of time before he got amongst the runs.

2) I'm uneasy about this tour. Not the one-dayers - Bugger them! - but the tests. It shouldn't be forgotten that if it weren't for South Africa's shonky fielding out here, Straya would have been in a world of trouble through the three tests. I can't see the Yarpies performing as poorly as that again, which means the coming test series will be very tense affair. Especially if Smith manages to convert his starts.

3) Mick Malthouse reckons football has become netball. Sure, there were some "soft" frees paid, but that's just continuing the trend from last year. Much more obvious were those frees NOT paid. I lost count of the number of times a blatant hold was either missed or deliberately ignored. None more so than last night's Toast/Dockers game when Chris Judd dumped a Freo player after a bounce was whistled. On another occasion Toast's Brett Jones tried to bust through TWO tackles but was not penalised. And earlier in the piece Jeff Farmer was slung over the boundary well after he'd gotten rid of the ball but received no free. Many more misses occurred thoughout the other games.

4) When awarding marks, are the umpires stricter on the distance the ball travels when it is kicked in defence than in attack? It seems to me that short kicks in the backline are often deemed play-on, whereas short kicks up forward of a similar distance are virtually always paid a mark. (And no, this question has nothing to do with the NAB Cup rule which disallows backwards kicks.)

5) There was a bizarre occurrence in the Dees/Doggies game in Darwin. Melbourne's Mark Jamar was awarded a freekick for a ruck infringement whereupon Aaron Davey ran onto the loose ball and was about to kick a goal when the umpire whistled the advantage dead. Davey gave the ball to Jamar who was about to go back for his kick when the other umpire ran in and said the first decision was wrong, and that there must be another ball-up. Balls-up, more like. The umpires changing their minds cost Melbourne a certain goal. Rort!

6) A couple of years ago Dame Gerard Healy was commentating at the Gabba when Sleepy Lynch took a mark in the goal square. The umpire correctly set the mark at a tight angle, but there was an argument between Lynch, the umpy and the man on the mark about whether Lynch could walk right up to the man on the mark and kick the ball from a metre out. All puffed-up indignant, Madame Gerard deemed the rule a disgrace and a joke, and that other codes must think AFL a laughing-stock. Well, they have now changed the rule so that if the player takes a grab in the square he can take the shot from dead in front. Something I disagree with, as it happens. Then on Friday night Will Minson took a mark in front of the points and was plonked, rightly, on a tight angle. Wayne Carey said he wish the rule hadn't been changed because it tested a forward's goalkicking skill. Healy didn't demur in the slightest, didn't even raise an eyebrow. All he did was say that Carey ought to mention it to Mike Sheahan who had been campaigning to have the rule change. Healy = soft.

7) I watched the NBL grand final game 2 last night and it was as good a game of Aussie basketball as I've seen. Fiercely contested and close. Not only that, the commentary was first rate. The Aussie bloke (Casey, is it?) might try too hard to sound like a Yank, but that's ok considering basketball is one) an American sport and two) he knows his stuff. Better still, the American commentator, Steve Carfino, deserves to be ranked with best in Straya. His clear voice continually delivers pertinent, waffle-free observations while knitting together the coverage with a cheery, but far from over-the-top, sense of humour. A gun.

8)

AD ABSURDUM

Out in the blogs they're trying hard to be offended by That Bloody Ad. Me? I like it. I haven't seen it, mind, but that won't stop me jumping to the conclusion it will be every bit as good as 99% of all the other advertisements on television.

The other 1% involves "shampoo science", a concept that has always eluded me.

LOUT OF AFRICA

There’s been a lot of yarpie bashing here lately. And quite rightly so. They really are so bashable. But in the interests of fair play, can I draw your attention to a great little South African (SA) noir action movie, Stander? Ja? Hank yew?

(2003. Colour. Script: Bima Stagg. Direction: Bronwen Hughes. Cinematography: Jess Hall. Score: David Holmes and Neil Sparkes plus an eclectic mix of old, new and just out there first and third world pop songs.)

Despite the crappy cover, Stander is really worth a punt at your local movie mart if you’re into gritty yet stylish crime thrillers with sly humour and some unexpected twists in the tale.

Firstly because it’s based on a true story that would be unbeliveable if it was presented as fiction. Andre Stander’s short and colorful life was sorta like the Postcard Bandit meets Roger Rogerson meets Ned Kelly - but as a wild colonial boy in a wig and false ‘tache hooning in a yellow Porsche Targa through the streets of Jo’burg after knocking over yet another bank...sometimes the same one twice in the same day. Yes, that really happened, amongst many other Stander outrages against the public order.

Secondly because it is a beautifully shot flick. Think Michael Mann’s Heat or Collateral set in 70s South Africa. OK, take your time to digest that concept. I’m talking stunning landscapes intercut with super kitsch period interiors, all shot with crisp cool and deft but subtle emotional angles. A lotta thought was put into making the scenery and sets help carry the story here. And this flick sounds great too. The soundtrack effortlessly segues between cool black African music and really ball the wall rock. (I'd nominate Stander for best use of an Iggy and the Stooges song in a bank heist.)

Thirdly, it’s got both an excellent script and plot (No Virginia, they’re not the same thing.) They take a bit of license with the original story, but not that much, and only really to deliver a couple of clever  twists at the end.

Fourthly, it’s got some really kiff acting man. Deborah Unger’s in there as the main boy’s love interest, all fiery cheekbones and nude conscience wrestling. Ashley Taylor plays it very low key yet with a lot of power as Stander’s former best friend and fellow cop ordered to shoot him on sight ‘cos Stander’s brazen outlawry has utterly humiliated the SA police/security establishment. There’s Marius Weyers, last clearly spotted as the male lead in “The Gods Must Be Crazy”, who is also pretty damn good as the aging SA Police General looking for religious consolation to deal with a son turned rogue elephant.

And the always entertaining Dexter Fletcher as Stander’s unstable Aussie sidekick - who fails to escape as disguised a Hassidic Rabbi escourted by his shapely blonde shoplifting “niece” when he could, and instead checks out permanently in a blaze of glory, facing down a SWAT tean while sporting nothing but two pistols and a pair of silk boxer shorts.

However the actor really using more than enough gun here is Thomas Jane, who is brillant as Stander himself, the smart, cocky and charismatic SA police detective on the fast track to the top. But who then has a ”fuck it all” moment after shooting an unarmed man in a riot and instead becomes SA’s greatest bank robber, a master of disguise and subversive media folk hero. Basically Stander is sorta like a Wilbur Smith/Robert Ruark anti-hero - a tough bastard who turns on a immoral and corrupt society...and one that's so regardless of skin colour. This flick's subtext is that apartheid fucked up everyone from Afrikaans Police Generals to Soweto gang leaders.

However it’s no bleeding heart movie. Appalling and violent behaviour comes in all colours here. But essentially it's a shit-hot, wryly funny and sunny noir thriller with stunning action sequences, set in a strange and beautiful land at a time when everyone had problems seeing their own worlds in black and white. And yes, it is a TRUE STORY. Weird place, weird times, weird guy, weird life, great flick.

GrogFlog’s verdict “Everyone else is on riot duty now? A white man could get away with anything today!" 8 out of 10 hi-speed getaways in blond wigs.

Viewer tip: There’s no subtitle option on the Stander DVD I watched and those yarpie accents do get up your nose a bit.

Coming soon: Yeah, yeah, I will get around to the irradiated Oliver Reed and James Coburn on acid flicks eventually. But after watching Stander, I sorta feel like shooting up a really bad and corrupt film now. Any recommendations? The winning suggestion scores a free hyperlink to IMDB.

DUDE, WHERE'S YOUR CAR?

Crash. Not the 1996 movie of the same name, but the 2005 movie of the same name. Yes, that confused me, too. Not a bad flick, as it happens - pretty good, as far as modern cop movies go. Not great, mind, there'll be no "Maan, you gotta see Crash!" here. Too many flaws. Not the least being Brendan Fraser and Sandra Bullock who didn't pull off their respective roles. Terrence Howard, the black guy who did his nana at the car-jackers was ok, I've always rather liked him, but he was plonked him into an over-the-top situation. Ryan Phillipe? Yeah, passable I suppose. Matt Dillon was good, though - I like him. The racist bidness was a neat fit, maybe a little too neat, too pat. As for the non-linear narrative, well, they cut & paste that together rather tidily. A bang-up construction job, if that's what you like in your films.

Anthony: "You see any white people in there waiting an hour and 32 minutes for a plate of spaghetti?"

~~ Crash

JAFFA TAPED

Gold, Shane.

NB AY?

It's not all happening here:

Game Without Comment

When the Houston Rockets visit the Orlando Magic on Feb. 26, the only sounds NBA TV viewers will hear are sneakers squeaking, referees' whistles blowing, balls bouncing, rims snapping and an organist entertaining the crowd. Taking a page from NBC's "Silent Game" in 1980, NBA TV is planning its first telecast without announcers. Steve Herbst, VP of programming for NBA TV, said the network will use extra enhanced microphones so viewers will be able to hear "all the stuff you hear when you're lucky enough to be that close to the game." (Viewers will hear the regular announcers in Houston and Orlando, Fla., where NBA TV will be blacked out.) The game is part of the league's Hardwood Classic games, and the Magic will wear uniforms from the 1989-90 season. "We wanted to have a little fun with that and capture the in-arena feel for the audience," Mr. Herbst said. Fun is fun, but Mr. Herbst said that if things get heated, and bad language is likely, "We'll have the ability to lower the mikes when necessary" to avoid a Super Bowl-style "audio malfunction."-Jon Lafayette

THE GETTING OF QUIZDOM

Sunday night, anyone catch Australia's Brainiest Quiz Master? No? Well, it wasn't too bad, as far as these things go.

First of all, the format was intriguing. Five rounds were made up of an initial qualifier; three rounds of set categories that you picked based on your score in the qualifier; and one final round made up of five questions from a previously selected special category. The lowest scores at the end of each round were eliminated.

There was a catch with the last round. (Three players were left.) The five questions in your special category were assigned a number which was plonked on a grid of 40 squares. The contestants needed to remember where their five numbers were to get two points for each. Further spicing up matters, if the contestant picked one of the other contestant's numbers and got that question right, they received three points, and the other contestant lost one of the questions from their category. If they picked any one of the non-assigned 25 squares and answered a general knowledge question correctly, they received one point.

Next, the questions were reasonably hard. They weren't dollies, duds and gimmes like most of those on WWTBAM, which is a farce up until $32,000. No, they were consistently challenging throughout the whole show. How many questions do they ask on Miwyonaire? Ten, is it? With maybe 15 asked on any one night. Well, on ABQM they asked more than 100. Good going, if you ask me. And ABQM was certainly better than Sale, with that show's emphasis on speed meaning the questions themselves were relatively simple.

Thirdly, the show skipped along at a fair clip. No surprise there, considering how many questions were asked. What was surprising was that the questions, while coming thick and fast, never seemed rushed or shoehorned into the format. They were a neat fit.

That's the upside. But thanks to Isaac Newton we know that for every action there is an equal and opposite apple.

The scores were too infrequently on the screen. Towards the end it was obvious the game was close and you could hear the audience ooo-ing and aaa-ing, but us viewers couldn't see the comparative scores.

Sandra Sully Nude did a reasonable job asking the questions, but she compromised her clout by trying to deliver some awful patter with some awful timing. Too many lines were howlers. Here's hoping a 'writer' hadn't sat around wracking his or her braincell to come up with that rubbish.

The guy who won, the big ginger. If he was the brainiest contestant, I'll eat my dictionary. He had two favourable categories to pick from which kept him in the game, and then in the last round he was able to gain maximum value from remembering where his five squares were. His special category? Stinking Star Wars, for fuck sake! The other two finalists, William from The Einstein Factor and Tony Delroy's quiz, and Rob Fulton, the fat baldy from Miwyonaire repeatedly answered tougher questions, but ended up coming second and third because they couldn't remember where all their squares were.

Not sure that Ten can run it again, once you've done Australia's Brainiest Quiz Master where do you go from there? Australia's Brainiest Quiz Master II lacks a certain verity. But if they did, somehow, run it again, they need to tweak the format so that brainiousness is better rewarded. You can't claim someone has the smartiest pants if they've won based partly on luck.

Quiz Brieflets:

Cary Young, the tool who continually adjusted his bow-tie on Sale all those years ago, and who sits around home memorising lists, blitzed in the category where dates featured, but sucked when the questions required a little thinking.

The ginger wanted to argue the toss over whether Dr No or From Russia With Love was the second Bond fillum. The official answer was FRWL, but Ginger had answered DN, citing Casino Royale as the first. It's a hoot when someone thinks they are right when they are not. I mean, EVERYONE knows the early Casino Royale was a TV show, not a movie.

No Nevin.

Everyone I have talked to about the show thought it was going to be a competition between Quiz Masters, as opposed to Quiz Masters. Know what I'm saying? A contest between Tony Barber, Eddie McGuire, Glen Ridge, etc.

The men came 1 to 6 and the nonmen 7, 8 and 9. Just thought I'd mention that, in the interests of fairness and full disclosure. It's the right thing to do, you understand.

BORE WAR

This business of Yarpies complaining about Strayans is all getting a bit tedious. But Mark Boucher? Surely not. That tough little fucker must be having a lend of us, right? How else would you explain him taking his bat and ball and goi ... being home. Name names or shut up.

The tour from hell

"Nasty things have been said," Boucher said in an interview with The Wisden Cricketer magazine.

"We did share a few beers after the Test series. But a lot of guys' eyes, maybe on both sides, have been opened. I think the beers that are drunk may be just for the sake of it because that's the right thing to do.

"I'm not going to mention names but I have lost respect for one or two of their players. If they want to say the same thing about us, no problem.

"But we live in South Africa and they live in Australia (so) we don't have to put up with them and they don't have to put up with us. It's do-or-die on the field and hopefully we can keep the rest to a minimum."

Boucher said there would be no sympathy from the Proteas players if South African crowds stirred the Australians.

"I hope our public give them a bit of stick because we've taken a serious amount," Boucher said.

"In the past our crowds haven't been too great with them but trust me, we're not going to sit back and say, shame, poor things."

Since when did the Strayans want any sympathy from the South Africans? What - did the Yarpies need a shoulder to cry on out here? Milquetoasts. And anyway, it's not as if the Strayans don't already know Sorth Efrican fans are animals.

Touch wood.

VICE CAPADES

"The Winter Olympics is a fucking wank," writes Ball O'Bag. Agreed. They are certainly one of the most tedious events on the face of the planet. What's more, Ball was on the money, literally speaking. Straya's very own sunburnt Canadian, Dale Begg-Smith, gold medal winner in the 200 metres Downhill Bumps, made a fortune selling ads for porn.

Spyware talk tracks star skier

PRESSURE is mounting on gold medal skier Dale Begg-Smith to detail the origins of his internet fortune, which increasingly appears to have been built on developing spyware that diverts users to advertisements and porn sites.

What are the penalties for athletes making money from spyware and porn? That's if there are indeed any penalties. Is "You made a stack from stick" a good enough reason to have to give up a medal?

TWISTED WORD

I'd be VERY surprised if this didn't interest you:

Tweed and Worsted

Two simple mistakes gave tweed, a Scottish fabric, its name. A Scottish weaver offered London merchant James Locke some twilled (diagonally ribbed) cloth in 1832. But in his letter, he spelled 'twilled,' in its Scottish form of 'tweeled.' Locke misread 'tweeled' as 'tweed' - and the name stuck. Worsted (also known as wusted, worsett, wirsed, wossat) is a woolen fabric made from twisted yarn and originated in Worstead, Norfolk, England. Its origin is unknown but is attested to c 1293.

Diagonally ribbed hey? For extra sensation, no doubt.

HOFFALANCHE

Yeah, yeah, I deemed The Hoff dead, only the rest of the world doesn't seem to agree. On Valentine's Day the AGB received more than 3,000 hits looking for this picture, the sad lovelorn dags. Because the picture was over 100K, this surge meant my monthly bandwidth went from fuck all to fuck me! 90.64% to be precise, and it's only halfway through the month.

To me bandwidth was one of those nebulous terms you hear about, but tend to ignore. Like free trade agreement or multiculturalism. But now? Well, I looked it up, didn't I.

Your bandwidth allotment

The amount of transfer you are allowed with your membership per month.

When your pages are visited or files are downloaded, the data is transferred and this counts as bandwidth.

Simple really. Now that I know what it means, though, two things leap to mind:

1) Bandwidth is a misleading term. To me, an electronic engineer full bottle on Schottke diodes, SCR firing angles and Darlington pairs, bandwidth represents a frequency range. No wonder I was puzzled. Bandwidth as used on the internet only came into circulation around 1994 but for some reason represents data usage. The turds! Why didn't they call it data usage or download tally or, if they absolutely must, byteage.

2) Better slow things down around here. Bailing furiously, I've mimimised the data transfer, optimizing the picture, as well as taking down Chopper Reads The Weather. Fingers crossed things settle before the end of the month.

Does anyone know what happens if you exceed your limit? Typepad goons probably won't come calling, but is there some other sort of nasty retribution they may exact? Is there even a chance this esteemed organ of record will go belly up?

Note: Organ + belly = tummy banana. As I said - esteemed.

A BIG COLD JEER

~~ "The cricket's on the television."

Did last night's presentations make you cringe? They did me. The VB spokesman (Geoff, was it?) turned things into a promo for Talking Boonie, employing some dubious comedy stylings in the process. "It's time to put Little Boonie to sleep," he nighty-nighted. "We won't hear Little Boonie again until next summer." What the fuck! Did he think he was talking to slow-learners? I don't mind the sponsor mentioning their product, but fair dinkum, there are limits.

~~ "He's seeing 'em like watermelons."

Speaking of watermelons, what's up with Tony Grieg's nose? Very W.C. Fields. I hadn't noticed before, but is the big Yarpie a pisshead?

~~ "The word for today is thirsty. Better grab a beer"

Yes, beer. Best you click on Little Boonie to find out why Big Boonie isn't happy with beer. Would you like a spoon with that?

By the way. Channel Nine regularly miss the first few overs after the dinner break - last night they missed nearly ten. Swine! To top that they are now often missing the first ball of an over, sometimes the first two. It's stupid to come back from a break and have the commentators talking about what happened on the first or second ball, blithely unaware(?) we didn't see it.

~~ "You're joking, aren't ya?"

I OUGHT TO BE CONGRATULATED

Where are we at with margarine? Is it still good for you, or does it now cause ghastly tumours? With diet fads it's generally a bit of both. A dab here and there is fine, but scoffing, say, two kilos a day may just present the odd problem.

It's hard keeping up with what's in and what's out. Who knows? Maybe it's just a matter of days before it's revealed broccoli causes baldness. But I try to ignore these commotions and eat what I've always eaten. Well, not ignore precisely. More like I missed the warnings. "What? You're still eating asbestos wafers?" Butter, is a case in point. Apparently it's bad for you, but I like it. Balls to margarine! Balls to any of those spreadable butters, too. That's cheating. Butter is rubbish unless you bend your knife cutting it, or rip your bread apart as you spread it. And anyway, only an animal would eat margarine, or poor people. Someone fill me in if there's a difference.

Complimentary food gag:

Man 1: "Shit sandwich, sir?"

Man 2: "No thanks, I don't like bread."

RUM REBELLION

During the 1840's, Britain sends Sir William Walker to the Caribbean island of Queimada to agitate the slaves into rebelling against their Portuguese overlords. The scheming bath-dodgers want to take over the island's sugar interests.

Essentially, that's the plot of Queimada, or Burn, as it's sometimes called, a superb film from Gillo Pontecorvo of The Battle of Algiers fame. It contains a Morricone score that's close to the maestro's best, and stars Marlon Brando as the sly yet foppish Walker. And that's not all:

Walker: "The sugar cane cutters enter the city, set it afire and sack the store. The army has to intervene, 32 dead."

~~ Queimada

YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTHA WAYS

Keith Stackpole has come out in today's Hun and said Murali chucks, and that the ICC are playing at double standards when they oust Botha and not Murali. Good on ya, Stacky. The more ex-players who say he chucks, rather than keep shtum in the face of official sanction, the more those officials will squirm, the craven dogs.

Nevertheless, while there is patently a double standard regarding Botha and Murali, I'm not convinced it works the way Stacky suggests when he cites Ian Johnson. What he seems to be saying is that Botha has been dudded because he doesn't chuck, whereas Murali is still out there even though he does. That's not right - Botha obviously chucks. Still, he ought to be commended for going on the record about Murali's chucking.

Funnily enough, there's another double standard lurking in his article. It's probably there because Stacky was trying to be nice, but it's still there. You can't on one hand say Murali's a chucker, and then on the other commend him for his efforts. That's just silly.

Murali chucks and no one should "admire him for his success against the odds". No one should "like watching Murali". Nor should Murali "be recognised for his considerable achievements". That all amounts to saying we should admire criminals for being rich. Murali is a wicket-thief whose career figures are every bit the ill-gotten gains of your wogged up Melbourne mobster, and not the noble laurels of a champion succeeding against the odds.

Eyes right on Murali's action

If I had been on the international Cricket Council's sub-committee that assessed Muthiah Muralidaran's action years ago, he would not be playing today.

Murali can whinge all he likes, but there is a huge grey area concerning the legitimacy of his bowling action.

I don't care about the tests that have been carried out.

The eyes of two many people don't lie. Players, umpires and fans are the best judges and most believe his action is suspect.

Years of controversy could have been averted if administrators had backed Darrell Hair's assessment on the fateful Boxing Day in 1995. Hair was also let down by his fellow umpires, who were happy to discuss Murali's action behind the scenes, yet refused to act.

A decade on and Murali is the second-highest wicket taker in test cricket, with 579 victims, and the third highest wicket taker (396) in one-day internatonals.

For all the controversy I admire him for his success against the odds and on Friday night he excelled in Sri Lanka's great victory over Australia. Many players subjected to the pressure and innuendo he has would have retired.

It is the strangest action of any off-spinner I have seen. He flicks the ball like a frisbee with his flexible wrist.

Unlike many offies, he is not close to the stumps at the time of delivery and struggles when he bowls around the wicket to left-handers.

I haver witched him for a few years in Sri Lanka and from all angles during the VB Series.

Every time I see him my doubts are confirmed.

The kid glove treatment has not been extended to South African Johan Botha, who incurred the ICC's wrath this week.

Former Asutralian captain Ian Johnson, a great exponent of off spin, is long gone, but I have a feeling he would approve of Botha's action, but not Murali's.

I believe the ICC has don't an injustice to Botha. It seems there are two sets of rules.

I like watching Murali and he is a perky character who entertains fans all over the world.

Murali and Chaminda Vaas have carried the Sri Lankan attack for many years. They are the only Sri Lankan bowlers to take more tha 100 tset wickets.

Murali should be recognised for his considerable achievements.

He is challenging Shane Warne for the world test record and has made the most of his ability, but I consider him lucky to have been allowed to escape the net early in his career and overtake many of the game's great bowlers.

GET BENT!

Guess who? "AUSTRALIANS must stop treating Muthiah Muralidaran as a pariah." No? Well, here's a hint - "Thank you, sir," grimace, "may I have another." That's right, the Cane Man. (As if you didn't know.) Beats me how a so-called respected cricket writer can bollix together an article so wrong on so many levels.

FULLY SYNC, DUDE

Busy-type flat out today. I've just written up a 30 page screed on synchronous generation and the infinite bus. Interesting, no? Sync Gen is this super whizz-bang concept whereby power is supplied to your home via more than one power station, each operating multiple generators. Getting them to work in unison is quite the little process. There would be bedlam if all the generators weren't on the same wavelength. (One of the classic electrical gags, that.)

Conditions for Parallel Operation

If a generator is to be connected to a system arbitrarily, the generator is liable to suffer from severe mechanical forces and high electrical current as the generator attempts to match the system conditions. To avoid this, each of the three phases of the generator must have exactly the same voltage in magnitude, phase angle and frequency as that of the system to which it is connected. To achieve this match, the following conditions must be met:

1. The magnitude of the line voltages of the two generators must be equal.
2. The frequency of the generator and the system must be very nearly equal.
3. The phase angles of the like phases must be equal.
4. The two generators must have the same phase sequence.

All the wiser then? It's only the intro, but I'd be very surprised if when you read it, you didn't exclaim "Well, since you put it like that!"

PAST THEIR CUTE-BY DATE

The interwebs? Bloggy goodness? Don't know about you, but I've had it up to the back teeth with both terms. They're an insidious pair, the way they've managed to slither through the blogosphere. I've even used interweb myself, I'm ashamed to confess - but that was by accident, it won't happen again. The internet is perfectly acceptable phraseology, as is the web. And anything is better than bloggy goodness. What a frightful term.

How did these deplorable terms gain currency? How does anything rank gain currency? Event Television, for instance. I blame young people.

THE BIG STEEL

Well, the Superbowl was a dud. In short, The Seahawks were robbed, both by the refs and by their own mistakes. An appalling call in the first quarter when a TD was disallowed was compounded by a second quarter howler when Pittsburg had a TD allowed (twice). Either incident going the other way might have seen a different result, but the way they turned out meant that by half time you just knew Seattle were gone. It didn't help that Jerramy Stevens had one of the worst games in a big game in living memory, thrice dropping sitters that might have sparked the Seahawks. His TD catch later in the game didn't come close to making up for his mistakes.

Nor were Pittsburg much better. The Steelers will count themselves very lucky they weren't playing a side on song. Rarely can a Superbowl champion have played a more disorganised game. Rarely can a winning QB have played as poorly as Ben Roethlisberger.

Garnish-wise: Paul McCartney's halftime show last year was way better than The Rolling Stones' effort this year. I hate Start Me Up, never much liked Satisfaction, and had no idea what the middle song was. The sound was crud, too. At least Mick was honest when he revealed he wasn't interested in American Football.

No, the game and the halftime entertainment were busts, but happily, the SBS coverage wasn't. In the past we have had all sorts of bizarre arrangements. Studio audience, anyone? No, I thought not. This time around SBS got the balance right between the American feed and the SBS studio overlay. Instead of weird links and studio hijinks when the US ads were on, the camera stayed fixed in Ford Stadium with the SBS "experts" talking over the vision.

That American feed comprised the usual excellent pictures and commentary team of Dick Stockton and Darryl "Moose" Johnston. While they are not quite as good as Joe Buck and Troy Aikmann, they did a bang up job. In past years, for the benefit of "ignorant" foreign viewers, they maintained a frustrating barrage of explanations about the game, tactics, positions, etc. There's no need for that, it is intrusive and patronising. This year they kept that shit to a barely noticable minimum.

Ed Wyatt headed up the Strayan overlay. It helps he's Merican and thus doesn't sound like an Aussie trying to sound like a Yank. He knows his onions, too. He did peek a lot for cues, but that's a minor complaint. He was fluent, knowledgeable, and comfortably threw to the "experts". Precisely what a good host is supposed to do.

(By the way. Wyatt did a bit of work on SEN, hosting an excellent NFL show on Thursday night.)

Expert No.1 Damian Lovelock (one of those idiosyncratic SBS fixtures) has, in the past, tried too hard to be cool. This time he concentrated on talking about the game and pretty much had it right the whole way through.

Expert No.2 Colin "I'm pumped!" Scotts, an Aussie who played in the NFL, was a worry. For a start, it would help if he knew where the camera was, and where the other two panellists were. His analysis was general, at best. And he kept saying "I played ten years in the front lines, I know how tough these boys are!" and "That's the beautiful thing about this game - you never know what's going to happen." Rubbish! That's the beautiful thing about virtually EVERY game.

Minky Buchan was the face on the spot in Detroit. Her pre-game interview with Wyatt was all token. (Did it seem pre-recorded to you? It did to me.) A lot of head tossing, cutesy voice, and rock-all else. Football should be accompanied by beer and hotdogs, not cheesecake.

Assuming they keep the rights, SBS should stick with the format. They got the structure right, now all they need to do is tidy up the decorations.

(Are SBS involved because of our siphoning rules?)

If you don't like SBS, you can always turn over to ESPN. Me? I have a problem with ESPN. I have a problem with ANY cable network that replays their NFL matches in full, including the advertisements. I boycott them whenever I can.

FIVE

Meme manners are an awkward business aren't they. Sure, it's flattering to be thought of, as that tea-hag Noreen thought of me. (Even though she's probably just sucking up because she ignored my previous meme.) As Oscar Wilde once said "The only thing worse than being talked about, is being a tedious fucker who quotes Oscar Wilde." So, it's nice to be remembered. Unlike how I disremembered Darlene Whatsername when she memed me.

Nor is every topic hideously dire. "What are your five favourite Mojo Singers' jingles?" would be worth a lash. ("Whack, Whack, Whack-a-Doo - Ohh, what a feeling!") As would "Your five favourite John Barry soundtracks are?" (The Persuaders, The Ipcress File, for starters) Or even "Which five TV newsreaders might have the best legs?"

But what about the great majority of memes that suck? Just as a bare few are worth a whirl, most others don't warrant even a moment's consideration. "Favourite colour?" Yer kidding, right? "Favourite brand of underwear?" Not that it's any business of yours - anything soft. And "Favourite foreign food?" Christ and/or The Prophet on a nondenominational bike!

Especially loathesome are those wankers who change the meme and compile pretty much whatever they want. What's the bet the same people enjoy drinking games and suffer from COVS*. Not forgetting those halfwits who go on and on and on about memes. Could they be any more aggravating?

But that's not me. I'm nothing if not a polite chap:

Five things to do before I die:

1. At last tally there were least a billion, it would be too hard to whittle the list down to five. But if I were pressed to name one off the top o' me noggin it would be to stop wondering what I'm going to do before I die.

Five things I cannot do:

1. Paint.
2. Play music.
3. Sing.
4. Read fast.
5. Write left-handed. (Not that I want to.)

Five things that make me want to leave the city:

1. The country.

Five things I say:

1. Shut up, and get to work.
2. Wrong.
3. You're late.
4. Very funny, Insert name here, never heard that one before.
5. Balls!

Five books I read in a day:

1. The Firm.
2. Tourist Season.
3. First Blood.
4. The Bloody Road To Death.
5. Day of the Jackal.

Five movies I enjoyed, but saw again and thought they were stupid:

1. The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean.
2. The Natural.
3. Brubaker.
4. Vanishing Point.
5. The Silver Streak.

Five people to tag:

1. Balls!

* Change of Venue Syndrome. Only the very greatest arseholes drone on "let's go here" or "let's go there" when you have settled in for a session.

NON CHUQUITUR

What kind of gullible fools do the chuckanistas take us for? "I passed the test, therefore I don't chuck," whines Murali. Sure! And two plus two equals a bedlington terrier.

How long will the cricket authorities ignore the bleeding obvious? Murali passing tests at UWA, does not mean he bowls legally in matches.

Yet here we are presented with another deceitful fait accompli. "His action cleared, Murali pleads for a fair go." Codswallop!

The dishonesty continues - "There has also been constant criticism that his last round of tests, at the University of Western Australia in April 2004, hadn't replicated match conditions." What? And this lot do? I certainly didn't see this UWA match on Channel Nine - did you? Nope, more duplicitous double talk.

(Given his action has been passed, it can only be a matter of time before Nine give us a super slo-mo clinic focussing on Murali's exemplary technique. Whaddaya mean dream on? How about this then? Maybe Murali's threat to boycott Straya is based less on his being No Balled! by the crowd and more on the slim risk Nine might out him with the super slo-mo. Or grassy knolling it: maybe Nine, concerned about their compromised coverage, have been in his ear and asked him not to tour. Well, it's a thought.)

It's not as if the numbers are even particularly convincing. Only one test result is less than ten degrees, all the rest fall between 10 and 15. If there was a one or two degree flex (Or none, as was initially claimed before the rule change - "He's got a bent arm" or "It's an illusion". What a crock that's turned out to be.) I'd be inclined to cede the benefit of the doubt. But these numbers, while ... ahem ... legal, prove only that he can bowl within the limits in a lab. Something he could do in his sleep by now. But only just! It would take the barest change in action for Murali to exceed 15 degrees. Doubtless he will do it at some stage under match pressure, it's a stone certainty. But just how, precisely, is anyone supposed to judge his legality if he bowls at 17 degrees? Or 18? Even if he bowled EVERY ball in a match at those angles would anyone cite him? You know the answer to that. Of course they won't. It's a fiasco.

And just what is this speed business? "The issue over his action reappeared last week after claims the speed he now bowls could influence the 15-degree elbow extension allowed under International Cricket Council rules." Bollocks to the speed! It's not the extra speed that will determine how far his arm flexes - it is the amount of turn he chases.

It cannot be long before the game's record keepers consider inserting an asterisk beside Murali's name. They have to, there's no other way for it. But surely they must go further - cricket has been fundamentally changed. Bowling statistics recorded before the 15 degree rule are a different beast entirely from bowling statistics recorded since. It's only logical that Zero Degree Offies be judged separately from 15 Degree Offies. The statistics of, say, John Emburey, cannot be accurately (or fairly) assessed against those of Murali.

LOOKING OUT MY BACK DOOR

It's poor form, don't you think, to taunt a bloke first thing in the morning, before he's had his toast. That's what happened to me last Monday. Sure, I was in my pyjamas, but they're quite the tidy ensemble, and certainly not shabby enough to warrant heckling from a sky-basket. "Hiya sexy, nice jarrmies" isn't the sort of thing you expect to hear as you grab the papers off the porch. Gave me a hell of a fright, it did. Bastard Montgolfiers!

Ahem. Nor are my pyjamas anything approaching the démodé. (Dee Mode if you must.) Boxers and tee-shirts never go out of fashion - just look at the movies. And at blue for blue the colours match, so I'll brook no nonsense from you lot.

GRASSED!

Was out at dinner* last night when one of the diners leant over to his girlfriend all shifty-like and sotto voce revealed "Paul texted me on Sunday - Got any green?" Well, bong on, maaaan. The thing is, he wasn't being conspiratorial at all, the preposterous hipster, he said it loud enough so the rest of us squares would be aware he was the coolest scenester at the table. A ludicrous self-delusion. Smoking drugs is about as cool as wearing your cap backwards, or listening to MMM, and it has always astounded me that people who "choof" think they are into something hip and a little bit naughty. Do YOU know anyone who "mulls up" who is not utterly tedious, a pretentious fuckwit, or both? No, you don't. So I looked at him and sneered "Got any greeeeeeen? What sort of talk is that, you old mook?" In high dudgeon he had the bare faced audacity to reply "Nothing wrong with chilling out." Talk about piling sin upon sin. I had to bail before I tipped the water jug on his foolish noggin.

Boynton summed it up best when she once sighed "It's pathetic, just soooo suburban."

FOSSIL FOOLS

The clods in the Channel Nine commentary box are past it, right. Most of us accept that. The only people who don't accept it are the people that matter. Those sadistic Nine heavies who plonk the likes of Bill, Tony and Ian Chappell there in the first place, and seem determined to keep them there until Richie's jacket fades to grey.

Well, maybe the winds of change are starting to ruffle the Channel Nine blazers.

Sunday Adam Gilchrist played a shot through covers at which Bill Lawry gushed "What a wonderful shot." It wasn't wonderful, it was merely a tidy spank from a player with his eye in, a point acknowledged by Ian Healy. "That's rubbish, Bill," Heals blurted, "He just stood there and slogged it - for a single, I might add." It was a surprising remark, not so much that he made it, but that he sounded so derisive. Nine usually keep shtum in the hope us mugs don't notice their stupidity, it's not their way to diss the product. So Heal's blunt riposte was one out of the blue.

Not five minutes later Simon Katich played and missed to Murali. "Well played," complimented Bill. Well played? Heals, sceptical The Kat would have played to miss, demurred "Surely not, Bill, he was comprehensively beaten."

Elsewhere, stand-in skipper Adam Gilchrist looked towards the dressing room causing Heals to observe "Chappelli will be sitting at home in Adelaide having a fit that John Buchanan has anything to do with managing the test team." Heals obviously believes Chappelli needs to get with the times. The former Australian captain's refusal to accept the many changes to the game since he played is often confirmed by his doggedly maintaining that cricket was toughest when he played.

Of course, it could be that Heals is just naturally combative and/or abrasive, but it's refreshing to hear one of the commentators taking it up to their own. (The childish bickering between Tony and Bull doesn't count.) And, if anything, it serves to highlight the shortcomings of the Nine time-servers. Wonder if he'll be told to cool it.

Another thing. Throwing gets up my nose, you may have noticed. This angular propulsion of the agate is a blight on the game, but just as infuriating is the snow job from those covering the caper who are protecting lucrative commentating gigs.

Shutting up is one thing. Hectoring the public on their chanting "No ball!" when Murali bo ... launches the orb in the direction of the batsman is another thing entirely. Nick the Dick was at it on Sunday when he lamented "I thought we'd got past that." A couple of weeks before, ABC rayjo's Dan Lonergan (strictly second tier talent) was even more critical when he exploded "There they go AGAIN with that RUBBISH!" Rubbish? That's the equivalent of Channel Seven footy ulcer Ian Robertson observing of a spectator going off his nut "Look at that idiot". Fuck. Off. It's every sport's fan's right to vent spleen when they see something they believe is wrong. No matter how many times the commentators try to convince us that Murali is an "ornament to the game" or is "a little wizard" or "a genius" (the chances are, many don't actually believe it) there are thousands of Aussie cricket fans who would disagree. That is their right. Just as it is their right to voice their displeasure. Being told to "shut it" by smug commentators who are in on the fix just rubs it in.

Speaking of Murali. He spends a lot of time quizzing the umpires, doesn't he, after decisions are turned down. Just ... you know ... saying, is all.

Supplementary grievance. The Dick on Sunday: "Missed! And they don't often." Dick was describing a missed run-out by (I think) Andrew Symonds. Dick's not the only culprit here, but what is this business about the Australians rarely missing run-outs? Just who, precisely, has done the numbers here? I'm of the opinion that while the Aussies are indeed hot ground-fielders (and sometimes sloppy catchers), they don't have laser arms, and thus miss more than they hit. That being the case, it should almost come as a surprise when the do hit. Yet the commentators would have us believe the reverse, that it's a surprise when they miss. Balls!

Well, that's about it for today. Anyone got anything else? The colour of the Adelaide Oval grass? The +/- weight tolerances of Kookaburra balls? Ian Healy's white shoes? Beer wenches?