I am not playing pool until I can work out what the fuck rhymes with “buttock”.

People usually enjoy it when I post my own poetry here, and I am happy to do so, so long as some of you buy the book occasionally too. Remember, any profits benefit a number of wonderful charities. You can head to: http://tinyurl.com/7tzxxgg where it is available in both book format and download.

I am always – like most writers – pondering the nature of writing and the creative process. 

This is not mere self-absorption, I feel. Well, I hope it isn’t.

Like a musician who hears notes constantly in their head which won’t go away until he plays them, or an artist who perceives the lines and colours of the world in a particular way and feels compelled to depict them, so the writer is frequently the victim of his or her words, not their master or mistress.

Sometimes – often – I simply feel an urge to write things down, to express them just so. If I ignore the urge, it becomes a mental nagging, then an indescribable emotional itch, then a full-blown obsession.

Like all writers I have been tortured by words or phrases, and eventually tossed back the sweat-drenched sheets and stumbled angrily to my typewriter or computer, willing the damn things down onto the empty page, so I can get some damn sleep.

And as any writer will tell you, it is the day you forget your shiny new portable electronic device, or more prosaically, your notepad, that the thoughts come flooding thick and fast, insistently, clamouring for attention, and you have to press confused bystanders or friends into giving you pen or paper immediately less the internal howling becomes too intense.

So: I wrote a poem about it. As you do. (Well, as you do if you’re a poet.) About how writing doesn’t just invade my life, it really is my life – has been for as long as I can recall, actually – and the rest of my life goes on around it, sometimes uninterrupted, and sometimes completely dominated by it.

The poem’s very long, but I do hope you find it enjoyable. It describes a real evening, long, long ago. Deep in the last millennium. Or perhaps, an amalgam of evenings. The pub was the Leinster Arms in Collingwood, in Melbourne, which for a while I seemingly kept open almost single-handedly through my contributions, (it would have been cheaper to rent an office, as I later did), and I only reveal that location now because I am perfectly sure that no-one there remembers me at all, and most of those that I now report on are either dead, demented, or simply moved on. And anyway, the poem is written with affection, and “no names, no pack-drill”, eh?

I am sure other poets and writers of all kinds – indeed, creative people of all kinds – will find echoes of themselves in here.

This is what a bigot looks like.

A North Carolina pastor has launched a shocking homophobic rant, calling on gays and lesbians to be put in an electrified pen and left to die.

The pastor has been identified as Charles L. Worley of the Providence Road Baptist Church in Maiden, North Carolina, with the sermon believed to have been filmed on May 13.

http://au.news.yahoo.com/world/a/-/world/13750950/pastor/

A disgrace. How is this not hate crime?

You are an idiot, Mr Worley. You don’t even know your theology.As I explain clearly here: http://wellthisiswhatithink.wordpress.com/2012/05/01/why-is-the-church-anti-gay-if-the-bible-isnt/

In my humble opinion, this man is going straight to Hell, and good riddance, assuming it exists.

These views are evil, evil, evil. This man does not speak for me, or any Christian I know. On behalf of Jesus Christ, I apologise to every gay, lesbian and transgendered person on the planet. And yes, I have that right. Read your Bible …

Related articles

• North Carolina Pastor calls for Gays to be put in an electrified pen and killed. Is this a Christian message? (hazimc.wordpress.com)
• ‘Pastor’ Charles Worley Isn’t Christian in Anything But his own Mind (zwingliusredivivus.wordpress.com)
• Pastor calls for death of gays, lesbians (nydailynews.com)
• Dear Pastor Charley Worley: We condemn your words of hatred and cruelty. Repent! (eugenecho.com)
• North Carolina Pastor Offers Final Solution to Homosexual Problem: Electrified Concentration Camps [Video] (gawker.com)
• Lord, save us from your followers… (queerlandia.com)
• Round ‘em up: ‘I figured a way to get rid of all the lesbians and queers’ sez Christianist minister (dangerousminds.net)

Just checkout this story, if you would.

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_WRONGLY_CONVICTED_CRIMINALS?SITE=AP&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT&CTIME=2012-05-21-00-10-51

Shocking. OK, let’s be glad these people were freed, but one has to ask. How many more? How many more are killed or incarcerated when they’ve done nothing wrong?

The American legal system is a disgrace. Yes, the same is true in many other jurisdictions, including Britain and Australia, but in America this casual attitude to sentencing is allied to some of the most insane “mandatory” sentencing regimes around.

For example, The Age in Melbourne has now caught up with the outrage over one such case which was first reported in Well This Is What I Think some weeks ago: this link also includes a petition you can sign to free the woman concerned … http://wp.me/p1LY0z-xZ.

People often ask me why I bash on about America so much. The answer is simple. It is the greatest experiment in particpatory democracy in the history of our species and we all need it to succeed. So: I hold them to a higher standard.  It’s that simple.

Related articles

• Exoneration lists expose causes for wrong convictions in Jefferson County and across nation (al.com)
• TEXAS – Texas ordered to pay ex-inmate $2M over conviction – Billy Allen (claimyourinnocence.wordpress.com)
• State must pay ex-inmate $2 million (txwclp.org)
• The National Registry of Exonerations Is Up (mauricepossley.wordpress.com)

“If all the girls who attended Yale were laid end to end, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised.” Famous wit, author and socialite Dorothy Parker demonstrates her grasp of paraprosdokians ….

As you will know, Dear Reader, from my previous ramblings on the subject, at http://wp.me/p1LY0z-jU, a Paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way – often a pun – that causes the reader or listener to re-frame or re-interpret the first part.

It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect. For this reason, it is extremely popular among comedians and satirists. “Where there’s a will, I want to be in it,” is a famous and much-attributed paraprosdokian.

I love ‘em, and so apparently do you – so I am grateful to my good mate Scashy for this new list. Enjoy!

1. Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

2. Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

3. I’d love to agree with you. But then again, then we’d both be wrong.

4. War does not determine who is right – only who is left.

5. Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

6. The evening news is where they begin with ‘Good Evening,’ and then proceed to tell you why it isn’t.

7. A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. On my desk, I have a work station.

8. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a poor memory.

9. There’s a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can’t get away.

10. You’re never too old to learn. Often something really stupid and intended for the young.

11. To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target. (This one is especially useful in business, I have found.)

12. Change is inevitable. Except from your office vending machine.

13. Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

14. My neighbour banged on my door at 2:30am this morning. Can you believe that: 2:30am? Luckily for him I was still up playing my Bagpipes.

15. The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner. Talk about Dyson with death.

16. I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid. Then I was petrified.

17. The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes back just in case.

18. A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to drinking brake fluid.   When I quizzed him on it he reckoned he could stop any time.

19. I went to the cemetery yesterday to lay some flowers on a grave.  As I was standing there I noticed four funeral guys in big black hats walking about with a coffin, Three hours later and they’re still walking about with it.  I thought to myself, , “Well, they’ve lost the plot!”

20. My daughter asked me for a pet spider for her birthday, so I went to our local pet shop and they were $70.  Blow that, I thought, I can get one cheaper off the web.

21. Statistically, six out of seven dwarves are not happy.

22. I was at an ATM yesterday when a little old lady asked if I could check her balance. So I pushed her over.

23. I start a new job in Seoul next week.  I thought it was a good Korea move.

24. I was driving this morning when I saw a roadside assistance van parked. The driver was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable.  I thought to myself, ‘That guy’s heading for a breakdown.’

25. I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn’t work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.

26. Some people are like Slinkies. Not really good for anything, but you can’t help smiling when you see one tumble down the stairs.

27. Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.

28. A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip.

29. Hospitality: making your guests feel like they’re at home, even if you wish they were.

30. Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others whenever they go.

31. When tempted to fight fire with fire, remember that the Fire Brigade usually uses water.

And perhaps my personal favourite …

32. I seem to always miss my husband. But my aim is improving.

Blackadder: “Baldrick. Do you mean, how did the Euro start?”

Baldrick: “Yes, Sir, if it please you, Sir.”

Blackadder: “Well, you see Balders me lad, way back in the good old 1980s there were many different countries all running their own economies and using different types of money. Oh, the messy, wild fun of it all!

On one side you had the major economies of France, Belgium, Holland and Germany, known to those of us in the know as “the rich bastards”, and on the other, the weaker garlic-munching dago-type nations of Spain, Greece, Italy and Portugal, and of course, the Irish, who aren’t dagos but are drunk and feckless.

So one fine day, my little dung heap, they all got together and decided that it would be much easier for everyone if they could all use the same money, have one Central Bank, and belong to one large club where everyone would be happy and laugh all day. This meant that there could never be a situation whereby financial meltdown would lead to social unrest, wars and crises”.

Baldrick: “But this is sort of a crisis, isn’t it Sir?”

Blackadder: “That’s right Baldrick. You see, there was only one slight flaw with the cunning plan”.

Baldrick: “I see, Sir. And what was that then, Sir? Can you explain it in a simple way for someone like me
to understand?”

Blackadder: “Certainly, dear fellow. It was complete and utter bollocks to begin with”.

Marissa Alexander … if you want to defend yourself in Florida, you’d better be white and wealthy.

The jury took 12 minutes to convict. 12 MINUTES.

No one died. No one was even hurt.

A woman defended herself against abusive violence by firing a warning shot, in a state where such action is explicitly permitted by law.

Today, she faces 20 years in jail. TWENTY YEARS.

Read the story, and weep that the American justice system still acts like this.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/02/marissa-alexander-florida-stand-your-ground_n_1472647.html

A petition has now been set up to address the case. I urge you to sign it.

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/503/600/056/dont-imprison-marissa-alexander-for-standing-her-ground/

Marissa could have got if with 3 years if she accepted a plea bargain but she refused in the hope she could convince the jury and judge her firing the weapon was self-defense.

Related articles

• Abused Wife Marissa Alexander Faces 20 Year Sentence, “Stand Your Ground” Law Fails Her (mymajicdc.com)
• Marissa Alexander: ‘Stand Your Ground’ Law Fails Domestic Violence Victim (inquisitr.com)
• Where Was ‘Stand Your Ground’ for Marissa Alexander? (ideas.time.com)
• Abused Wife Marissa Alexander Faces 20 Year Sentence, “Stand Your Ground” Law Fails Her (hellobeautiful.com)

It doesn’t really need any further comment from me, and it deserves to be very widely read and acted upon. I know what my wife – a fantastic, caring, creative and thoughtful mother, I think I should add – is getting for Mothers’ Day. OK, and a cup of tea in bed.

Please pass this story on.

Last year a girl I went to school with died in childbirth. I was in shock when I heard the news. She went into labour in a hospital in Melbourne, there were extreme complications and she died – leaving her baby to be raised by her devastated partner. Everyone I ran into that knew her was dumbfounded. Who dies in childbirth in Australia?

The interesting thing is that just six kilometres away in Papua New Guinea, being pregnant instantly places you at a risk 242 times greater of losing your life in childbirth than if you were having your baby here Australia.

My shock about my school friend was so big because it is so rare. Yet for women who live in the country just north of ours, dying in childbirth is not so rare. And most are not dying for any complicated reasons, like my friend did. Haemorrhage is the leading cause of death in childbirth, and one that is entirely avoidable.

A professor of obstetrics, (and my hero) Dr Stephen Robson was travelling on a plane in 2010, flicking through TIME magazine when he came across a photographic essay about women dying in childbirth in Sierra Leone. Reading about the plight of one of the 1,000 women who die throughout the world every single day horrified him.

Steve obsessed about a way he could make a contribution to lowering the stats. It came down to raising money to fund basic maternal health programs in countries which need them most. He remembered all of the women he had helped to deliver their babies and the countless flowers they received. He had seen so many of these flowers thrown out – thousands of dollars worth, in the bin, every day.

A woman and her child lie dead after a delivery with complications in Guinea-Bissau. No problems were expected, but medical facilities to save them were inadequate. Somewhere in the world, a woman dies during childbirth about every 90 seconds. In addition, around 20 more suffer injury, infection or disease – approximately 10 million women each year.

He wondered whether he could encourage people to make a donation towards saving the lives of mothers in the developing world instead of sending flowers to celebrate births in Australia.

He gathered a small band of like-minded people together – including me – we brainstormed, and Send Hope Not Flowers was born.

We launched a few months ago and have already raised enough to fund our first maternal health project – delivering 200 Baby Bundle Gifts for women in the Milne Bay Province which is a remote area of Papua New Guinea.

Recent studies in that area found one of the common reasons why women chose to have a delivery in their village rather than at their local Health Centre was because they had no baby clothes or nappies for their newborn and they felt shy at exposing their poverty when they showed up at the centre.

They also lacked the $4.50 delivery fee and had no money to feed themselves while they were away from home.

When a women is able to have a supervised delivery at a health centre, they reduce the risk of death in childbirth significantly. What a simple intervention. What a way to give a woman her dignity back. What a way to save her life.

I write about global poverty and have done so for a number of years now. And of all the progress we as a world are making to reduce the number of people suffering unnecessarily because they are living in abject poverty, one of the areas that needs particular focus is maternal mortality. Of the 1,000 women dying every day, 99 per cent of these live in developing nations. And one of those nations, Papua New Guinea is on Australia’s doorstep.

So this Mother’s Day, instead of racking your brain thinking of something to get her – we recently read about buying your mum liposuction for Mother’s Day. I mean, really. – how about you Send Hope Not Flowers (or Send Hope Not Lipo?) and make a donation in her honour to go towards saving a life of another.

It is a profound gift. And one which can make a difference.

After all, flowers die. Women giving birth shouldn’t.

Go to www.sendhope.org to find out more.

You can also find the Twitter here and the Facebook here.

To read more about Send Hope and global maternal health, go here or here.

Related articles – two other opportunities to help

• Every Mother Counts: No Mothers Day Campaign (non-toxickids.net)
• Mother’s Day Gift: Bloggers for Birth Kits (enjoyingeachmoment.com)

Such a complicated concept. Letting people make each other happy. Not.

Now President Obama has publicly voiced his support for Marriage Equality for gay people – and good on him, too – let’s hope his much less impressive Australian counterpart can show the same guts. This means you, Ms Gillard.

Sadly, once again, the lamentably poor Ms Gillard seems determined to convince us she has zero political guts or leadership qualities. Tragically, of course, her opponent is even worse.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-05-10/pm-reacts-to-obamas-support-for-gay-marriage/4003116

And let us all remember the immortal phrase … “If you don’t like gay marriage, just don’t fucking get one.”

Related articles

• Adam Lambert Applauds President Obama’s Support for Marriage Equality (celebs.gather.com)
• President Obama Voices His Support For Marriage Equality (brandtstandard.com)
• Prez and the Evolution: President Obama Comes Out For Gay Marriage To Robin Roberts (mediaite.com)
• Log Cabin Republicans underwhelmed by Obama’s support for gay marriage (abcnews.go.com)
• Obama FINALLY gives his approval of Gay Marriage. (mkpage.com)
• Obama Comes Out for Gay Marriage — Finally (blogs.sfweekly.com)
• Gay Republicans On Obama’s Gay Marriage Evolution: ‘Cold Comfort to LGBT Americans’ (mediaite.com)
• Gay Republicans Attack Obama For Announcing Same-Sex Marriage Support (buzzfeed.com)

Was that you?

According to Fox News (so it must be true, right?) “The Dinosaurs Farted Their Way To Extinction”.

http://www.myfoxdfw.com/story/18162128/dinosaurs-farted-their-way-to-extinction-british-scientists-say

Now I come to think of it, I know a few colleagues who are threatening their continued existence, but not through global warming. Their end may be swifter.

Related articles

• Dinosaurs blown away by own farts, say researchers (thesudburystar.com)
• Dino Farts Likely Caused Mesozoic Climate Change, Say Dino Fart Scientists [For Science] (gawker.com)
• The reports of dinosaurs dying of farts are greatly exaggerated (scienceblogs.com)
• No, Fox News, dinosaurs did not fart their way to extinction [Debunkery] (io9.com)
• Gone with the wind – Rethink ‘big bang’ theory (news.com.au)

Ricky Lambert scores a last minute equaliser against Blackpool in the 2-2 draw on 10 December 2011

I am perpetually bemused and amused by the propensity for otherwise reasonably sane people, oneself included, to become helplessly trapped in a cycle of despair and adoration for a group of sportspeople.

Currently, the football team which has been my deep love for more than thirty years – the “Pride of Hampshire”, Southampton FC, a.k.a the “Saints” – sit proudly atop the English Championship, the second tier of English soccer. If they continue to win more games than their rivals, then the end of the season will see the ultimate dream achieved, returning to the Premiership – the world’s greatest domestic football league – which they once graced for a remarkable 27 continuous years.

St Mary’s Stadium, home to Southampton FC, nestled in an industrial area near the famous port

Southampton’s story is that of a family club, once based around a Church football team – St Mary’s, now the name of their new stadium,and the origin of their nickname – way back in the 19th century, that has always punched way above its weight. At one point when I started supporting them (whilst at University in the ugly little south coast port city, so scarred by Nazi bombs in the 2nd world war) Manchester United used to make more from programme sales on a Saturday than Southampton made from ticket sales. The club nearly crashed out of existence altogether through financial troubles just a few short years ago, and have languished in the lower reaches of English football while they sort themselves out. These are heady days indeed.

Saints have always, with temporary diversions inflicted by misguided managers who rarely lasted long, been a club that preferred to play “total football”: football with genuine flair, football with what used to be called “Continental panache”, football to make you gasp with pleasure when it went right and cringe with pain when it went wrong. The roll call of great players who slotted comfortably into this unrealistically idealistic atmosphere almost beggars belief for a club of the size of Southampton – Bates, Gilchrist, Davies, Paine, Boyer, MacDougall, Moran, Osgood, Channon, Keegan, Wallace, Shilton.

Matt Le Tissier, perhaps the most talented footballer of his generation – perhaps any generation – and Southampton legend.

And, of course, the mecurially brilliant and sublime Matt Le Tissier. Or as he became universally known by Southampton supporters, “Le God”. Without question, the most gifted attacking midfielder the English game ever produced, who steadfastly refused multi-million-pound offers to move to the likes of Chelsea and Manchester United with the simple words, “I like it here”.

It was this crazy, knockabout passion that led to Saints once memorably defeating Manchester United in the prestigious FA Cup Final, despite being a division below and a light year apart in terms of raw talent. It remains the only major trophy the club has ever won.

It is Saints’ generation-on-generation preference for bold, flowing courageous football, so often resulting in the team losing games 4-3 at the death knock of the 90 minutes as the defence streamed forward, looking for a winner, that led one supporter to memorably comment, “It’s not the despair that really gets to me, it’s the hope.”

So anyhow, last night, my beloved team were on the TV live, playing a team, Blackpool, that on current form they should beat easily. And true to the deadly obsession that is sports fanaticism, a bunch of us on the other side of the world from the actual match trailed loyally into a pub in Melbourne at 11.30pm in the pouring – torrential – rain, to once again undergo the ritual sacrifice of our sanity.

All ages, shapes, sizes and sexes. Actually, what was really funny was that in the streets and in the pub we were surrounded by cheery Christmas party revellers, many of them late teen, early 20s girls dressed in their best party finery – which means mini skirts that make handkerchiefs look excessively over-manufactured and legs that never seem to stop as they reach for the sky. Yet we only had eyes for the TV and every missed pass, crunching tackle, and woodwork-rattling shot. They must have felt their efforts to impress were entirely wasted. Or perhaps we were all gay? We certainly looked peculiar, decked out in red and white team shirts, and one bizarre fellow sporting a felt jester’s hat in team colours with bells. Yes, dear reader, that was me.

Bart Bialkowski – the stand-in keeper’s mistake gifted Blackpool a vital goal

And once again, Saints put us through the emotional wringer, with a performance that ran the full gamut of the sublimely talented to the horrifyingly inept and back again. They totally dominated the opening period, and scored a good goal from the latest hero to embody Saints’ spirit, Ricky Lambert. Then they let in two goals, one a well taken effort that was probably unpreventable, and one a goalkeeping howler that will haunt the lad concerned for the rest of his career. Stand-in keeper Bart Bialkowski somehow let an otherwise harmless shot squirm under his body and through his legs to give Blackpool the lead.  Perhaps the only consolation for the lad is the mishap occurred too late to be included in the “bloopers of the year”compilation DVDs out for Christmas.

Not until the second minute of five minutes added on to the normal 90 did Saints finally score an equaliser (seen above, again from “Goal Machine” Lambert). The relief in the Sherlock Holmes Tavern was palpable. And Saints’ nearest rivals, West Ham, contrived to lose, to boot. So we were still somewhat fortuitously top of the table, still with an unbeaten home record (although the current record-breaking run of 22 homes games won came to a sticky end) leaving us tragics in the pub buoyed up and near-salivating for next Sunday’s game against arch-rivals Portsm*uth.

(I have to write Portsm*uth and not the whole name of that benighted club, because it is a long-standing tradition amongst Saints fans that we never write their club name in full, which would pay them too much respect. They are more commonly referred to as simply “Skates” or “the fish fiddlers”, in deference to the belief that fishermen in the area used to acheive sexual satisfaction by having intercourse with the wings of the Skate fish, common in the area, (a type of small ray), which was supposed to mimic a human female sex organ. The fact that those fish were then on-sold to the locality, including Southampton, may well have something to do with the persistence of the mythology and the mutual dislike. Since time immemorial, the rivalry engenders more hatred and detestation than possibly any other in English football.)

I was left, driving home in the pouring, leaden, dark night, to reflect on what it is about supporting a sports team that makes it such a consuming and culturally-independent experience. Around the world, sport of all kinds, but especially the various codes of football, captures the hearts and minds of thinking, rational people and turns them into dribbling idiots, crying or laughing into their beer, and happily hugging smelly strangers indiscriminately.

I saw it again last night, when, in response to our manic shouting at the TV, (“Ref! You total bastard! Offside!”), the entire clientele of the pub started to forget what is was they were there for originally, and pay attention to the flickering images of inch high men running backwards and forwards, beamed live through unimaginably brilliant technology from the other side of the planet. By the end of the game, and Lambert’s last-gasp equaliser, they were all on side too, cheering, asking us if they could wear our colours, asking about the team and our star players, and cheerful adopting our lifelong allegiances as their own. As one colleague bemusedly remarked to me, “Not bad, another 30 new supporters who’ve never heard of us before.”

Yes, for a few brief minutes, we were the same tribe. We were the same religion. We believed the same things. We were the same town. The same country. The same world.

We were the same family.

Damn, it felt good.

Post Scriptum

Southampton were promoted back to the Premiership in late April 2012, returning to the top flight of English football – possibly, arguably, the best league in the world – after seven years away. A week before, Portsmouth were relegated to League 1, the old “Division 3″. As one wag remarked: “Normal service has been resumed”.