Tetherd Cow Ahead

I know that there are those of you out there who read my post on how to make a classic Manhattan and thought ‘It’ll be a slow day in Valhalla before you catch me drinking one of those pussy ‘what-a-swell-party-this-is’ beverages!’

Well have no fear! Should you find yourself on my doorstep worried that your manly image might become tarnished by my wussy left-wing nostalgic I-wish-I-was-at-a-party-with-Cole-Porter hospitality, we have another option.

Yes, a short stroll up the street to the Gourmet Viking ((Yes, I know. ‘Gourmet’ and ‘Viking’ – not really two concepts that sit together easily. Like ‘Designer’ and ‘Viking’ or ‘Elegant’ and ‘Viking’ or ‘Hello Kitty’ and ‘Viking’. Even if the Viking culture was, in fact, very sophisticated. They’ve got a lot of raping and pillaging to live down.)) and you can be chugging a very reasonably priced glass of gløgg and chowing down on frikadeller and Hakkebof. If someone calls you a nancy-boy here, just hack off his hjamstallr with your vikingesverd!

Ah, I can almost hear the shouts of ‘That’s more like it!’

I have it on good authority that a few pints of the local gløgg and you’ll be performing naked acrobatic viking dances and playing knatteleik till dawn.

Mein skol, dein skol, alle vakkera flikka skol!

OK Cow-o-philes, on to Stop #3 on the Bad Public Art Tour of Sydney, in which we see how the citizens of Sydney support ‘The Arts’ with their hard-earned dollars.

This work was constructed some years ago in the Sydney district known as Darling Harbour. It’s hard to convey in a photograph exactly how cheap and daggy ((‘Daggy’ is a slang word peculiar to Australia and New Zealand which is something like a cross between ‘goofy’, ‘unfashionable’ and ’embarrassing’)) it is in actuality. Suffice to say that it is a blessing that it is hidden away in a place where few people will ever see it (fittingly flanked by an overpass and an IMAX theatre).

I have heard this piece referred to as a ‘flannel flower’ and I sincerely hope this is not what it is meant to be. This is what flannel flowers look like:

Note the lack of vivid sickly yellow colour, and attend to the petal count.

I’m not really able to tell you much about this effort. A long search on the web has turned up nothing of value. Personally, I’d just as soon see the actual ‘artwork’ itself disappear into the same kind of obscurity.

Being a responsible modern citizen concerned with saving energy I found myself stocking up on fluorescent light bulbs to replace all my incandescent ones. The big selling point on these things (aside from their Green credentials) is their longevity and… waiddaminute… what does that say…? A big 3 YEARS LIFE! but a wimpy 1 Year Guarantee!!!

Sheesh. Some advertising wonk has pulled a pretty big rabbit outta a pretty small hat for that one.

If you take it to mean "We guarantee it to last for 1 year, but it might last for 3!", then why did they not go for broke and say, oh, 10 years life. Or 20 years life? C’mon Mr Osram – what have you possibly got to lose?

If there’s one thing I hate it’s mediocrity in hyperbole.

•2 oz rye whisky
•1 oz sweet red Vermouth
•A good dash of Angostura bitters

Stir or shake quickly ((Stirring is preferred)) over ice, pour off and garnish with a Maraschino cherry.

Some people prefer a twist of lemon instead of a cherry. Some people prefer bourbon instead of rye. Some people omit the bitters. All these things make for a lesser Manhattan.

Save the cherry until last and eat it, or give it to the sweetest girl in the room.

Here in New South Wales, Australia we are in the throes of a State election along with all the accompanying heehaw of such an event.

So last night I had a phone call from a marketing company that wanted to get my ‘opinion’ on the field. This was the conversation as it happened:

Polite Young Woman: Do you mind if I ask you some questions about the current political situation in the state?

Reverend: Not at all. As long as you ask sensible questions.

PYW: Oh… er… OK. Um, which is your preferred candidate out of Mr Transparent and Mr Translucent.

Reverend: I don’t have a preference between those two.

PYW: Oh. So shall I mark ‘Not Sure’?

Reverend: Those are my options? Mr Transparent, Mr Translucent or ‘Not Sure’.

PYW: Er. Yes…

Reverend: But I am sure. I’m sure that I don’t prefer either of those. I’m voting for The Principles Party[tippy title=”¹”]We have more of an option than just the two ‘main’ candidates, although neither of them live, apparently, in a universe which allows this possibility.[/tippy]

PYW: Well, you can only have one of those two or ‘Not Sure’. It’s which of those you prefer. You don’t have to vote for them.

Reverend: Are you asking “If I only had one life preserver and the ship was sinking, which one would I throw it to?”

PYW: I guess so. Sort of.

Reverend: [Thinks: Who made up this survey? Do they want results or do they just want to hear answers upon which they’ve already formatted policy?] In that case, I’m not sure.

PYW: [Thinks: I knew I was getting desperate when I took on this job] O-k-a-y (makes computer key clicking noise). Now, how would you describe your satisfaction with the policies of the Transparent Party currently in power: ‘Satisfied’ or ‘Not Satisfied’?

Reverend: That’s it? ‘Satisfied’ or ‘Not Satisfied’?

PYW: [Sighs] Or ‘Not Sure’.

Reverend: Why don’t you just fill in all my answers as ‘Not Sure’. It will be quicker.

I propose a different kind of tack with such surveys. It would go like this:

•If Candidate A and Candidate B were in a burning building, and you could rescue only one person would you:

A: Rescue Candidate A?
B: Rescue Candidate B?
C: Watch the building burn while playing the violin?

•Given the ineffectual policies of both the main political parties, do you:

A: Prefer the ineffectual policies currently in place?
B: Prefer the ineffectual policies offered by the opposition?
C: Think that the money spent on this survey should be used to buy everyone violins?

I’m prepared to wager that the outcome would be the same, but with my version at least we’d all have music and a bonfire.

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¹We have more of an option than just the two ‘main’ candidates, although neither of them live, apparently, in a universe which allows this possibility

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My mum used to use the expression “Someone just walked over my grave” to describe that creepy-crawly inexplicable feeling you get when something causes the skin to go up on the back of your neck.

I just looked at my blog stats and noticed that someone from Texas at the IP address 69.153.63.68 had landed on my blog by using the search string ‘child tethered’ (spelled correctly).

I guess there are innocent explanations, and I probably shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but someone just walked over my grave.

Let us all pause for a moment and think about the good things in our lives.