Saturday, September 18, 2010

“I'm a non-believer, loud and proud”

“I'm a non-believer, loud and proud”


I'm a non-believer, loud and proud

Posted: 18 Sep 2010 07:27 AM PDT

YOU WILL perhaps have noted that minor news story during the week concerning the Brisbane lawyer who put himself on YouTube burning pages from both the Koran and the Bible. (Cue my favourite quote: "All religious wars are disputes over who has the greatest imaginary friend.") Anyhoo, one electronic media report – no names, no pack drill but it was on my missus's station – said the bloke was an "admitted atheist", a phrase I have heard a lot lately. I protesteth. Yes, one can be an admitted arsonist, adulterer, liar, thief, murderer, thug or whatever. But why would you "admit" to being something you are proud of? Personally, I don't "admit" to being an atheist. I proclaim, I boast, I rejoice in, I "bang on endlessly, until everyone gets a nose bleed, and wishes I would shut up . . . " etc, about being an atheist.

Core problem

YOU KNOW that thing they say about how Apple Mac computers are so fantastic because, among other things, they don't get viruses and are far and away the most reliable? Not only did I read that somewhere, I wrote that somewhere. I was wrong. On Thursday morning, in the early morning light, as the gorgeous green countryside of Waikato fell behind and Auckland Airport hove to on the distant horizon, I was working on this very column in the back of the car when the screen suddenly froze and refused to move. Of course, I turned the laptop off and on, hoping to unfreeze it. Nothing. Stone-cold, motherless nothing. Still not panicking, I waited till I got home and went to my local Mac people at Spit Junction, who, forewarned, were waiting with cardiac responders, blood transfusions, oxygen, nurses and one of the best Mac surgeons in the business. After the operation was over, his devastated expression when he came into the waiting room, told the story. The patient, Mac, still had a tiny pulse but he was not hopeful. My only hope was to rush the hard drive to a data recovery expert at St Leonards, who was waiting for me with even more specialised equipment. If this bloke couldn't bring my Mac back from the other side, it couldn't be got back. The short answer? It couldn't be got back. I frankly couldn't understand all the technical gibberish but, broadly, the whole thing had had some catastrophic meltdown, involving "partitions" and "corruptions". For $1500 he'd have a go at getting some of the raw documents back but was not hopeful. Pass. I still love Apple for everything else, and fortunately backed the whole contents of my computer up a week ago, but am now going to invest in some new thingummy that will automatically back the whole thing up every minute of every day. Sigh. Deep sigh. Wan look out the window.

Joke of the week

Upper-class Man (with apologies to Jimmy Barnes and thanks to Fitzphile Oscar "The Core" Oberg):

Working hard to make a living,

Bringing chandeliers from the rain,

A father's son left, to carry on

Dom Perignon in his veins

Oh, oh, oh, he's an upper-class man.

Well he's a disciple of the laptop,

He's a legend of his kind,

He's running like a Jaguar, across the wild eastern-suburbs sky,

Oh, oh, oh, he's an upper-class man.

He believes in God and Abbott,

He gets out when he can,

He did his time at KPMG,

Still mad at Uncle Kevin,

He's a simple man with a heart of gold in a complicated land,

Oh, oh, oh, he's an upper-class man.

Well he loves a little Kambala girl, some day he'll make his wife,

Saving all the bonus pay for the one love of his life,

He ain't worried about the rugby 'cause he just made up his mind,

Macquarie needs this acquisition, take five companies at a time,

Oh, oh, oh, he's an upper-class man.

Oh, oh, oh, he's an upper-class man!

High steaks

ANIMAL-RIGHTS group PETA takes direct aim at Lady Gaga's raw steak dress: "Meat is the decomposing flesh of an abused animal who didn't want to die and, after time spent under the TV lights, it would smell like the rotting flesh that it is and likely be crawling in maggots."

Switching offIDLY sometimes, sitting at traffic lights, TFF has wondered what might happen if on one particular day, nothing actually happened worthy of making the news. No storms, no accidents, no appointments, no anniversary of dates good and evil, no scandalous resignations by a NSW government minister, no swearings-in of a new federal cabinet, no convictions of George Michael. What would actually happen? This week, the people of Norway had the answer: the newsreader goes a little crazy.

On what was apparently a very slow news day, one Pia Beathe Pedersen, reading the news for NRK Radio in Oslo and the Akershus region, thought the pickings so thin, it would be far more newsworthy – and she was right, as the story ran around the planet – if she had a brief rant against her mean employers and then resigned on air.

"Nothing important has happened anyway," she said, before switching off the microphone and walking out the door.

Home truths

JUST before flying to Armidale on Tuesday to attend the packed funeral of Robert Clarence Robertson-Cuninghame, AO – the Chancellor of the University of New England from 1981 until 1993 – TFF had the honour of opening the stunning Convict Sydney exhibition at Hyde Park Barracks, put together by the Historic Houses Trust. No fewer than 160,000 convicts were sent to Australia between 1787 and 1868, of whom no fewer than 50,000 passed through the doors of those very barracks. The exhibition, which includes photos, maps, artefacts and drawings, gives a real feel for what those times were like and is well worth a look.

pfitzsimons@sunherald.com.au

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