My thoughts? Well, Bailey has worked under Kevin Sheedy and Mark Williams, so he will be familiar with the tactical aspects of the caper. I just hope he's tough. Under both Neil Balme and Neil Daniher Melbourne could play scintillating footy, but when the pressure went on the Demons almost always failed to cope. There were too many times under both those coaches when you knew the Dees were done five minutes into a game. One time against Essendon in early 2003 we started OK, but at quarter time you knew the game, and the season, was in the torlet. It was painful. The same goes for round one against the Saints this year. If Bailey can get us playing hard footy and keep us in games, especially on the off days, then it will be a step forward. Williams' tactics, Sheedy's spiteful rat cunning and Northey's spirit - is that too much to ask?
An email arrives:
- It was Bailey and then daylight – Nathan Burke (who was involved in the process) described him as the best presenter he has ever seen and the first time he had actually learnt something from a coach (that’s not surprising after playing under Cornflakes)
- The board agonised over whether to announce before the weekend but Chocco did the work for them – they do not seem too worried about that although given that they have pissed Bailey off immediately I would suggest Port is not too happy – big call to get rid of your key assistant when you are 2nd on the ladder and about to go into a finals campaign
- Big chance for Connolly to replace Fagan although Peter Schwab is also a candidate
- They want Riley to stay on in more of a player development role
- Here’s the big one – we might get Hardwick as an assistant as well – that would be huge as I reckon he could be a gun
From Wiki comes news of the latest Hoff style internet phenomenaaaahh: Rick Astley. Fuck knows why. Anyway, just so you can say you've seen it, you should seen it.
Rugby league legend Andrew Johns says an unknown person put an ecstasy tablet in his jeans pocket before his drugs arrest in London last weekend.
A question for lawyers; and barrackroom lawyers, feel free to contribute your half-arsed opinions. This and other reports say Johns was "released without charge", but now he "has a record" in the UK. How does that work?
Another question: is this why they are called pushers?
A statement released by Johns' management company a short time ago said he "recalled an unknown person pushing a tablet into his jeans at a crowded entertainment venue" earlier in the day.
"I was having such a good time, seeing it was the last day before I flew home, I stupidly forget about the tablet and instead of getting rid of it I left myself in a situation I soon deeply regretted," he said in the statement.
Do you reckon Joe-E's management are trying to ... ummm ... push him into the comedy scene? "An unknown person pushed a tablet into my pocket, but I forgot about it." Chuckle-wise, that's up down there with "Psst, buddy, you wanna buy these here medical records what we's found in the gutter?" and that Leslie girl's conversion to Muslimism.
Press Release The AGB will not be talking to Channel Seven.
Lose It Or Boos It Sunday's tank match, an idea: Mad Saturday.
Gaymo Asked the students how their trivia went last Wednesday. "Shithouse, Tony, and the host is a gay emo," one replied. Naturally I corrected them: "That'd be Tone."
Hitler Yoof Bizarre episode of the Einstein Factor last week. In a Smart Kids contest, three youngsters, one boy and two girls, were on deck to strut their stuff. The boy's special subject was Gary Kasparov and he blitzed. Can't remember what the first girl's topic was (TT: Boynton reminds me it was frogs of FNQ, or more accurately after looking it up accurately, Frogs of the Wet Tropics World Heritage Area. What fool said all girls think about is boys? It's not easy being teen. Teen, green: that's a joke, boy. I keep pitchin' 'em, ya keep missin' 'em.), and anyway, she was a strange zombie child. The second girl must have thought she was on Straya's Top Model the way she kept tossing he hair, but interestingly, her special subject was Adolf Hitler. She did fairly well, but at the end Barry Jones asked her "What text would you recommend as a starting point on Hitler?" To which she replied "Mein Kampf. That way you can see where he's coming from." I'm sure she didn't mean it to come out like that, but what if she did? Either way it stunned Barry, the other two panel members and Peter Berner into an embarrassed silence.
It Takes Two No, not the TV show, the staplers here at school. The first staple always comes out gnarled and you have to hit it again.
Chicken Rexona Couple of weeks ago this bloke wanders into the restaurant where we do trivia and before sitting down with his team pulls out a can of deodorant and gives each underarm a quick phhht. Through his shirt, too. The odour lingered for ages.
Another "Bloke" I'm no great Liberal supporter, I just hate Labor. Why? I'm not really sure. I just do. And yet I'm a long time unionist with lots of friends in the unions. I was in the ETU for 22 years and they did alright by me. Now I'm in the AEU and they do alright, too, and will do even better under a Labor government (ostensibly, anyway) which is good for me work-wise. Yet I hate Kevin Rudd in roughly the same measure lefties hate John Howard and hope, probably vainly, that Labor get stomped in the election so that we see that grotesquely unattractive smirk - more of a shit eating grin, if you ask me - wiped off Rudd's dial.
Peerless Whenever bloggers promote blog polls, they often add that blogging isn't a popularity contest. Of course, it's a popularity contest, and the blogger promoting the poll usually hopes they're the most popular. With that in mind, I'll promote the only poll I'm likely to win: Geoff Honnor's. (Hope that crack about Kevin Rudd doesn't cancel out the ideology bit.) Sure, Geoff wrote that nearly two years ago and much of stuff I've done since is rubbish, but once a winner, always a winner. Right, Ben Johnson?
Jarred Waite has just been ruled out with a headache that starts Sunday afternoon.
Marc Murphy has just been ruled next week as he has to buy panadol for Waite.
Carazzo has just been ruled out as he has to drive Murphy to the pharmacy.
Gibbs has just been ruled out as he has to tell Carazzo where the pharmacy is.
Betts has been ruled out because he cant stand to see anyone with a headache.
Whitnall has been ruled out because he might want to buy some jellybeans at the chemist and ruin his diet.
O'Hailpin has been ruled out because he is upset that Whitnall can't have his jellybeans etc.
But is it?
Sunday's match between Melbourne and Carlton has the potential to be every bit as embarrassing to the AFL as any of the recent drug revelations. The thing is, it's got to be one of the most interesting scenarios for a long time. Could the potential worst match of the season be the best match of the season? The best worst, anyway. Despite what anyone says, neither side wants to win, neither side can afford to win, so a nil/all draw is on the cards. Carlton would be stupid to win and lose the No.1 pick, and so what if they beat a 14th placed Melbourne. The same can be said about Melbourne. Win and the Demons lose their priority pick and get shunted from Pick 2 to Pick 4, and so what if they beat a 15th placed Carlton. And if Richmond win, Melbourne could end up with the added anti-bonus of the spoon - and the No. 1 Pick. Go, the Tiges! Not that Richmond are going to try and win. Put your house on St Kilda this week. In fact, put your house, your life savings, your car, your furniture, your family and your favourite dogs-playing-poker picture on the Saints. Naturally, the AFL are spinning the "no one tanks" line, but no one believes them. Personally, I hope Melbourne lose, but knowing Melbourne, they will find some stupid way to win.
It will be interesting to see if the punters come up with any juicy signage. Signage is what the rest of us call signs. Doubtless the AFL Nazis will stamp out any shenanigans, can't "damage the brand" and all that guff, but if you feel like making a statement, I'll buy the textas. Those of you with memories of the Eighties will recognize the sign on the left. Well, almost recognize. And those of you with memories that don't stretch back that far will recall thesetwo from the Nineties. You know what they say: "If you remember the Nineties, you were there."
Every Thursday night for about half of each of the last three years I have recorded Lost. Yes, despite some dodgy episodes over the journey I'm still watching Lost and, in fact, despite it wallowing for the majority of 2007, with some episodes being outright slop, the last quarter of this season was superb. But this post is not about Lost, it's about the show that precedes it, That 70s Show. Well, it's not actually about That 70s Show, it's about the end credits. Actually, it's about the opening credits, too. Clear? Good.
Anyhoo, whenever I record a show, I start the tape around five to ten minutes early. This gets the tape clear of the snags that mostly tend to happen early in the recording process. It also gives me a little latitude in case the program I'm recording starts early. Not that that's likely, what with program schedules being out by some five minutes the other way, but you never know, my clock could be stuffed. And that doesn't worry me, anyway; I mean, I know programs are going to air late. Only a cretin expects them to start on time. Used to be I could record three programs on three channels on a three hour tape and time them all perfectly. It's a bit like real-estate quoting. You know the bastards are going to quote low, so what's the problem, just add ten to twenty percent. Nor did it matter when I was recording Cheers and Kerry Packer pulled Dog Mulray's World's Dirtiest Animals, or whatever that disaster was called. That Cheers started so early (around half an hour) I would have missed by ages, anyway. Still, those kinds of things only happen once in a blue cheese.
Where was I? That's right, That 70s Show.
I've never seen That 70s Show. Not entirely. Because I start recording early, I've seen the last five to ten minutes on fast forward many, many times, and it was in that last few minutes that I recently spotted something that grabbed my attention. No, it wasn't the redhead. Sure, she goes alright, but on fast forward, and with no more than a speeded-up passing interest, I never stopped for a slowed-down perv. No, what grabbed me was a name in the credits - Alex Chilton. "What's he doing there?" I wondered, so I stopped the tape, rewound and discovered the title song for That 70s Show is a re-worked cover of Big Star's In The Street done by Cheap Trick.
It's about now you wonder: "That 70s Band? Which 70s band? Big Star or Cheap Trick?"
(If you can't see the embedded clip in IE, try this direct link.)
It's about Big Star. I won't say "naturally", or "of course" or "obviously, you fat head" because I happen to like Cheap Trick, I just like Big Star more; specifically, #1 Record.
Now, most of the readers here would know Big Star, I just felt like boosting #1 Record. It's not perfect, but it rocks. Get a load of these tracks: Feel, In The Street, Don't Lie To Me and When My Baby's Beside Me. Surely, those are four of the best-ever power pop guitar tracks. Even a couple of the lighter, more whimsical tracks rock out: The Ballad of El Goodo and My Life Is Right. Don't get me wrong, either, I quite like the Cheap Trick cover above. The kid doing air guitar - that's me. Well, not me, but like me. However, the cover lacks IT. You just know what IT is, don't you. IT is the cow bell. That ding-a-lingin' inspiration takes In The Street from Great to Really Great. Tell me you don't waggle your hand every time you hear IT. Nor is that the only bit of genius on the album. The other zinger lives in Don't Lie To Me. That's right, coming out of the second verse and into the third it's the penny whistle that accompanies the guitar crescendo. I think it's a penny whistle.
It's a pity Big Star couldn't keep it going. The second album, Radio City, funks it up and has it's moments, not the least September Gurls but it's ultimately less than the sum of its parts; while the third album, Third, is pretty relentless going. By the end you need herbal tea, a cold compress and an appointment with an analyst. Still, I mention them merely in passing. It's #1 that does it for me.
Oh, and it's a fuck sight better than Bat Out Of Hell, too, and most everything else released in the dreadful 1977.
By the way, did you watch the telecast of last year's Melbourne Cup? I hate horse racing: the wannabes, the pissed up slappers, the boofheads in multi coloured dress gear, fashions on the field, the blanket media coverage, the instant experts, the car park, the bird cage (Is there even a bird cage at Flemington?), the whole lot, but ... err ... naturally, the telly was on in the background. You could have knocked me down with plumage when the half time entertainment was provided by Chris Isaak - and it rocked! The only track I caught, and perhaps the only track he played, was a cover of Cheap Trick's I Want You To Want Me. If ever the AFL want to fire up the grand final "entertainment" they ought to take a leaf out of the VCA's book. Get a reasonably well known entertainer to cover a reasonably well known song and tell him to let it rip.
The Question: Write down three well-known products which come to mind when you hear the word "quality". (One of the products must be less than $50 in value.)
When it comes to Campbell Brown's eye lie, I'm somewhere between Patrick Smith's indignation and Matt Price's cynicism. Respectively: Brown was a dickhead to say what he said, and the tribunal borders on a joke.
A south Melbourne brothel is luring back customers who might be discouraged over rising fuel costs by offering a discount if they produce a petrol receipt.
The Pink Palace is giving clients 30 cents off their bill for every litre of petrol they buy as part of its "pump and save" campaign.
"If they bring in a receipt for 70 litres of petrol, we take $21 off the booking," said Pink Palace manager Robyn Smith.
Sri Lankan spinner Muttiah Muralitharan is to take legal action against Bishen Bedi after the former Indian spinner yet again made condescending remarks about his bowling-action last week. Murali's manager, Kushal Gunasekara, yesterday revealed the news on Indian TV.
Just going on the record in light of Adsy's link yesterday.
Can anyone find Bishen Bedi's comments at ChuckInfo? They're not jumping out at me.
What is it with Ian Chappell and Les Favell? I'm sure Favell was a smart cricketer, but given the number of times Chappell refers to him, he must be the ONLY smart cricketer Chappelli's ever come across.
Ian Chappell, the former Australian captain, has delivered a withering verdict on the standard of English wicketkeeping, and believes that England will never regain the Ashes so long as men of the standard of Matt Prior and Geraint Jones are selected in the Test side.
Prior endured a desperate match in the series decider at The Oval, dropping both Sachin Tendulkar and VVS Laxman in the course of India's first innings of 664, and speaking to Cricinfo at the end of the match, Chappell was scathing about his abilities.
"I cannot see how England are going to win against decent sides with a wicketkeeper who is woeful," said Chappell. "An old skipper of mine, Les Favell, said that once a wicketkeeper starts costing you games, he's got to go, Matthew Prior is in that category for me."
Mind you, comparing Prior to Geraint Jones is harsh. "What we've seen lately with Jones and Prior just isn't going to work. [England] got very lucky in the Ashes in 2005, and got away with that, but they've got to revisit the way they select wicketkeepers."
But we've put that dodgy England victory well behind us, haven't we. Right behind us. Yes we have. Almost...
Used to be us Strayans talked about the way things used to be - "When I was a kid" and "Growing up in Narnargoon" and "In the 1800s" and "Yonks ago". Not any more. Now it's "Back in the day." Shut it.
Gideon Haigh was off Onsiders this morning sneering in that way he does that the cry baby ACA have both a hide, and a thin skin, demanding MySpace pull websites spoofing Australian cricketers. He's wrong, of course. Websites should not take the piss out of any cricketers and the ACA and Paper Cut are perfectly within their rights to demand the websites be removed, the big sooks.
THE Australian Cricketers Association is furious that some of Australia's leading players are being lampooned and misrepresented on the MySpace website.
A clearly fake entry of all-rounder Shane Watson with a background of near-naked photos is the worst example of what the ACA is calling a "plague".
Under Shane's Blurbs on the site, it says: "I'm Shane Watson, but you probably recognise me cause I'm hot. I like to model, especially nude. I like hot chicks. I like to play cricket, but I'm usually injured." Under the subject title: "Who I'd Like To Meet", it simply states "Blonde chicks".
ACA chief executive Paul Marsh claimed the false entries on MySpace were a "pathetic exploitation by people who have nothing better to do with their time".
The august Times has gone all listy. (Coming soon: 50 greatest butterflies on a wheel.) The one below is all usual suspects, with at least 40 on high rotation when anyone mentions great sledges. Still, it's a neat compendium and for a change, the No.1 is excellent, despite it not actually being a quote. No, it's top dog because it managed to generate a shit-load of comments from angry and humourless Italians arguing about soccer.
Girls play sport too, although it's rare to read about it or see it, writes Nicole Brady.
EVERY Saturday morning, ovals across Victoria hum with the happy sounds of children playing their favourite game — footy. In this age of obesity, it is a joyous sight to see so many youngsters, and their parents and siblings, having so much fun playing sport.
These sessions, run by the AFL's junior arm Auskick, are wonderfully egalitarian. Boys and girls may not be represented in equal numbers, but they are treated equally — and the girls hold their own on the field. The parents who act as umpires and coaches treat them the same as the boys, and so do their young male teammates. So why doesn't the AFL?
We sincerely believe that a man in awful trousers hitting the ball one time less than another man in equally unfashionable attire is a matter of utmost importance.
We have engaged in earnest debates this season over the respective widths of goal-post padding.
We don't find it strange that two large men stand toe to toe hitting each other in the head, only that they don't hit hard enough.
No one this side of your local geek of Trekkies - or whatever the collective noun is - can suspend disbelief quite like a sports fan. However, in one significant regard, we have grown tired of deluding ourselves.
Since the first grainy black-and-white replays of games appeared in the 1950s, football fans have found ways of avoiding the result which, for our forebears, involved averting their eyes from the Sporting Globe or not reaching for the crystal set.
"I was unfortunate to find this aftergrogblog written by a buffoon. Some drink from the fountain of knowledge, but it looks like this guy just gargled."
I've never been able to work out why I extract such enjoyment from the achievements of people I have no desire to meet. Even when I was younger. Even when I was a player. But footy has been a gigantic slice of my 45 years, so it would seem a huge waste of my life - such that it is - to give the caper away. Nor am I even sure I want to chuck it in, although this year would seem as good a time as any. Fuckin' Demons!
Anyhoo, these twoarticles seem to go together, and not just because both cite Nick Hornby. Imre's has the money quote:
I challenge anyone who regards themselves as a true football victim to read Fever Pitch and not find their own feelings and experiences echoed. There is the initial, sudden, overpowering infatuation that appears to come from nowhere, usually in early adolescence. There is (to use a term from structuralism) the overdetermined quality of it all, where the meaning of the team in one's life is weirdly disconnected from any direct contact one might have with players, coaches or staff (usually zero).
So, you're pitching a plot for a television series. How about this: a good looking rooster from Queens moves to LA to become a movie star and sets up in a big house with his three best mates from back in Queens who all moved out to LA with him.
That might sound a little light, but it's essentially the plot of HBO's Entourage.
A few months ago I was looking through a mate's DVD collection when I stumbled across Season 1. I'd never previously heard of Entourage, or if I had, the memory hadn't stuck, so I asked him whether it was any good. He gave me a categorical "it's OK, I suppose". On the back of that ringing endorsement I borrowed it and promptly left it sitting in my shelves gathering dust.
Then a couple of weeks ago, stuck for something to watch, I pulled it out for a squizz and realised it was actually an HBO production, which meant it was almost certainly better than the sub-average material oozing out of the main American FTA networks. I'd been thinking it might be Joey meets Everybody Loves Raymond, or some such hideous hybrid.
Fortunately, it's not; in fact, it's good. Like most HBO stuff, it's aimed a grown-ups, or at least, at viewers who want a little bit more in their viewing than telegraphed jokes and canned laughter.
Reading around it gets plenty of glowing reviews, too; the Herald Sun's Leigh Patch called it the best ever TV show about Hollywood. While it's similar Curb Your Enthusiasm (although CYE's relentless obnoxiousness grinds you down), I'm not prepared to go over the top, there's something iffy about it I can't quite put my finger on, but it's pretty good viewing all the same.
The four main characters are excellent. Adrian Grenier as the movie star Vincent Chase (Vinny) plays it nice and low key. He's just a casual guy, happy to tool through Hollywood having fun, and seemingly immune to criticism. Kevin Connolly is his best mate Eric (E). E used to manage a pizza shop back in Queens, but because Vinny trusts his judgment - "you got instincts, man" - E becomes Vinny's manager. Kevin Dillon is Vinny's brother Johnny Chase (Drama). Drama was someone once; now he's reduced to bit parts in his brother's films. Turtle (just Turtle) is the gofer, the driver, the joke-butt. Vinnie and E refer to Drama and Turtle as "the retards".
But despite Vinnie being the "cool guy" who gets all the girls, E worrying whether he's up to the job, Drama being obsessed with his image and Turtle being a shit kicker, you can't help but like them. They grow on you. For me, especially Drama; he's a sensational character.
Then there's Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven), Vinnie's agent. He's Harvard educated, arrogant, bullying, rude, sexist, racist, loud. Naturally, he gets all the "best lines".
And this being a show about Hollywood, there are cameos galore. So far, Val Kilmer, Sarah Silverman, Gary Busey, Larry David, Mark Wahlberg (he produces the show), Luke Wilson, Jimmy Kimmel, David Faustino and Jessica Alba.
If you haven't seen Entourage, it's not magnificent, but it's well worth a look.
Hysterical cries for "the truth" are just silly. Juvenile. Rabble rousing.
There are times when "the truth" is best left unsaid.
So, who wrote them? Well, your gut reaction probably prompted you to suggest a usual suspect - a politician, a real estate agent, a car salesman or a man with his pants on fire. You'd be wrong.
You'd be right, but probably surprise yourself, if you'd suggested the person who did write it was, in fact, a journalist; a person whose primary function is to Seek Truth and Report It.
In this case, the journalist was none other than the Herald Sun's esteemed chief football writer, Mike Sheahan. Mike was writing about why the Essendon board don't owe anyone an explanation over Kevin Sheedy's sacking.
THERE is a compelling reason why Kevin Sheedy and Essendon should part company at some point in the next two months, as they will.
Simply, those who know the situation best believe the club will be better off with whomever is selected to replace the coach of the past 27 years.
They are the 11 members of the board of management and others representative of senior staff, the football department, the player group, and respected people on the periphery.
Errant nonsense, of course. Such blind acceptance on faith is generally an anathema to hacks, yet here is Sheahan comfortably prepared to carry the Bomber line.
The Bomber fans, on the other hand, aren't so sanguine. They are owed an explanation.
Essendon won 3½ games last year and finished 15th, this year they've won 9 and are currently 8th and 'in contention'. Sounds like Sheedy, probably the best list re-builder in the business, is on the right track, yet the board reckon he can't coach.
His putative replacement is Neil Daniher. If the Bombers go for the former Melbourne coach, surely the Essendon fans will have a fit. Daniher has coached for ten years and never won a flag. In the same time Essendon have won one (ironically they flogged Melbourne) and could have won three. Should have won two.
Surely it's only a matter of time before Mike "We-Don't-Handle-The-Truth" Sheahan issues a retraction.
Poor McMorris. There he was, doing it easy in Iraq, living the life of Riley, only having to contend with occasional suicide bombers, intermittent rocket propelled ordinance and a bare minimum of small arms fire, when he foolishly decided to sign up to a lifetime of pain. The horror.
Graeme 'Doc' Tolliday has gone beyond the call of duty in his efforts to recruit new members for the club. A long time supporter and member, Doc was recently on a holiday in the United States. On the last night of his holidays, he happened to run into a young American by the name of Captain Alec McMorris at a small bar in New York.
Alec was on leave from his second tour of duty in Iraq. After a long conversation with ‘Doc’, he showed some interest in our great game. As with any diehard Demons supporter, ‘Doc’ saw this as an opportunity to recruit Alec into MELBOURNEfc ranks. Upon hearing what a fantastic club Melbourne is, Alec was signed up as a member within a couple of weeks.
Congratulations to ‘Doc’ and Alec - you are both VIDs.
Killer O'Fact!MacMorris is the only Irish character in all Shakespeare's plays.
It will be interesting to see if the punters come up with any juicy signage. Signage is what the rest of us call signs. Doubtless the AFL Nazis will stamp out any shenanigans, can't "damage the brand" and all that guff, but if you feel like making a statement, I'll buy the textas. Those of you with memories of the Eighties will recognize the sign on the left. Well, almost recognize. And those of you with memories that don't stretch back that far will recall 
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