the Neolympics

There is no denying the eye-pulling effect of the Olympics. The best physical specimens from around the globe assemble to run, jump, cycle, swim, paddle, climb and dance to create a patriotic sense of worthiness. If our athletes seize gold, then we feel an extra pep and if our medal count is high on the table, we don’t mind pointing that out to our off-shore counterparts.

Thats fine. It has been that way since the first cluster of single-celled protozoa defeated the cyanobacteria clan, and I imagine there will be similar faux battles between non carbon life forms of the future - perhaps a processing sprint over 100 microns, or some form of made for TV robot-wars.

But my concern, as always, is for myself and the other mass of jelly-bellied, receders known as middle-aged men. How can we create a crucible of endeavor in the Olympic spirit, but for those whose once limber bodies are now a creaking wreck, and for whom, the challenge to crouch in the sprinter’s blocks seems trial-enough. Will the crowds adulate for our nose-haired, waxy-skinned bodies as we slow clap at before our triple-jump run-up? Negative.

I guess that’s why we have snooker, darts, poker and the competitive act of turning-up early to secure inside seating at the funeral service.

ps I just figured out how to allow others to leave comments. You can do this anonymously. I noticed in my web analytics that someone has accidentally landed on this website in the past 30 days. So if you are here leave a comment. or don’t.

Four mechanical “arts”

I have huge respect and admiration for practical engineers. People with aptitude for making things. Both of my Grand-fathers worked in steel foundry and mechanical engineering at times and while I only got to know my Mum’s dad, he was working hard in practical engineering until he died at 87. He would make a soapstone sketch on a piece of steel, then set about building it.

I don’t think I knew what engineering was in much detail, but I knew the pinnacle achievement would be to be a practical engineer. I’m still not, but I love learning new things about the field, and yes I have an engineering degree and work in the field, but definitely do not class myself as a practical engineer.

In my search for knowledge on this subject I found a wonderful book, Foundation of Mechanical Accuracy, by Wayne Moore. Wayne’s dad started Moore Special Tool Company, which developed "modern pre digital techniques for creating machined objects with accuracy to a millionth of an inch. Wayne continued the family tradition of sharing their knowledge for the betterment of wider industry and mankind.

Moore describes mastery of the Four mechanical “arts” as essential for achieving accuracy (and being a highly skilled machinist. The “arts” are 1. Geometry, 2. Standards of Length, 3. Dividing the Circle, 4. Roundness. Check it out for yourself if you like. Foundations Of Mechanical Accuracy : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

I love the melding of art and science in this book, and the respect for the history and the people who choose to spend their productive lives creating the machines that create the machines that create the infrastructure we need to live our lives.

wasted youth

Today a mate of mine brought to my attention George Bernard Shaw’s quote “Youth is wasted on the young”. I imagine GBS was reflecting on what he might’ve done better or differently when he was young, and wished it had been possible to combine earnt experience with his former youthful vigour.

I understand that. I had a short youth myself - I was a late developer and an early balder. The golden years are over too quickly. Once, I was a god!

But wha….? what is youth again? is it a prescribed period of hormonally induced vitality, or is it a state of mind?

I believe it was Aristotle who said we “mind-fuck” ourselves into believing we are old, in the same way we tell ourselves we have “grown-up” when we have the trifecta of slavery: Mortgage, marriage and kids. (ok it may not have been Aristotle)

Hey, provided you’ve still got your marbles and you can swim a length or give one, then youth is a state of mind! So get out there and show its not just the young that can get wasted!

G whizz

Since my 30 second impromptu interview on the topic, my family have derided my overt enthusiasm for the rights of people of all shapes, sizes and creed to wear G-strings. My friend circle (which is probably a semi-circle at best) have delighted in my public outing as a un-self-aware middle aged pervert with a predilection for exposed cheeks. I shall let it pass like a wave over me (there I go again, another reference to the beach and therefore g-strings). take it easy, hang loose and wear your mankini with pride!

The Loser King

Despite Marcus Aurelius being classed as one of the great Roman Emperors, a clear-eyed study of his note-book “Meditations” reveals the beautiful loser-esque attitude of this humble, considered, mortal man who happened to be King of the world.

“You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” - M.A., Meditations

What a loser - no power over outside events?? This isn’t what I have learnt from successive testosterone fuelled motivational freaks! But this so awesome.

MA is considered a stoic philosopher, and it’s easy to think stoic wisdom can only be held by great people, but another way of stating the great man’s thoughts would be to quote the biopic of another (this time fictional) realist, (in the smiley-face yellow t-shirt scene) “Shit happens”. Gump didn’t say it, but the theme of the movie was that stuff occurs whether we like it or not and if we just keep going and don’t take it personally, we can have a beautiful life. Sometimes we CAN make our own shit happen, as MA did when he quelled the Germanians, and as Forrest did when he finally married Jenny, but don’t get hung up on it.

Even Marcus Aurelius dies and its ironic that the great man’s most notable legacy is a wee personal diary he had no intention of sharing with the world and the practical simple advice it gives us 2 millenia later.

Losers: the new Winners

Are you sick of scrolling through insta-tossers telling you how much of a worthless piece of shit you are?

Its just such a worthless vortex sucking your attention and withdrawing energy from your life-force. and what’s worse, its enticing, I hover, I watch and my eye-balls and dwell-time tell the AI algorithm to send more more and more of this shit.

The problem with the dorks purporting to have the ultimate fitness, business, nutrition solutions is they are all such complete tools who I would want nothing to do with in real life. So whytf would I want to give them my attention or worse yet, my money? I wouldn’t … except I’m jealous of their imagined success, and I want to be like them (or at least partly).

This is a kind of moral quandary, but a useful approach is to adopt some aspects of stoic and buddist philosophies and instead or pining for improvements others tout, be happy as a lark with what you’ve got.

But then, …and this is the twist… give yourself a bit of a challenge - something you wouldn’t normally contemplate, maybe something you can do with mates or (even better) for mates.

Now remember, you’re a fucking loser (or a content stoic/buddist) and anything better than complete disaster is a win, so every day you train for your new challenge, or do something that makes you a little better, that’s a huge victory. In otherwords, hold failure lightly, but embrace and enjoy positives.

You’re alive and you’re already winning! So get out there you bloody loser and just do it.

to G or not to G

This afternoon I was interviewed by a roving reporter for the local e-rag “Stuff” on a pressing topic that has been vexing intellectual minds in the province for months. “Do you support G-strings at the public baths?”. My immediate answer was yes of course I do as this is a matter of personal choice, but as is often the case, further reflection on the topic has improved my focus on the moral battleground between the cheeks.

From a financial perspective, it is clear that the G-string is only a symptom of the difficult economic times, and as a low-cost alternative to proper swim-wear, the G-string fills a niche (so to speak). The G-string is typically worn by under-nourished young women who are economically disadvantaged and can only afford mere offcuts to cover their private regions. Even their butts are hungry!

As a matter of personal choice, it’s each to their own. For example, my wife, an avid watcher of every version of Love Island, has become desensitised to the exposed buttock. She is comfortable to watch others wearing them, but chooses to avoid the practise herself…

Environmentally, clearly the G has a lower carbon footprint than any other form of clothing, and it is this observation that led me to invent the C-string and P-cup. The C has a similar arrangement to modern G-strings, but is made from environmentally friendly recycled cardboard. The P is a product that reduces the G’s footprint further by using a plug arrangement to avoid the need for strings.

Debates will continue on this challenging topic for some time to come, of that we can be sure, and indeed debate is good. Debate helps us understand our respective motivations more clearly through open social discourse. So as a tool to promote social intercourse, long may the G-string continue to hold a place in our butts.

Good bastard, tough gig

Kane has the good looks of a garden gargoyle and the physical strength of a cup of jelly (the sloppy kind, not the chewy, leathery skinned kind), but he has a heart of gold. Well, actually, his heart is the problem - when he was lining up for organs in pre-heaven, God discovered that Kane was a cheeky bugger and decided to short-change him with a dicky ticker. So Kane was born in need of heart surgery and has been a friend of the medical fraternity ever since.

Kane’s condition and his nuggety determination to keep going makes him a medical marvel worth study. So several times a year, Kane is probed and prodded (I think the probing is an optional extra - he always ticks that box), by the Otago Med School students. Their assignment is to figure out what is wrong with Kane and report it back to the Med Prof. Typically, the students bring back a very long list of deficiencies, and some of them even recognise his heart condition and pace-maker (the resealable zip on his chest is a giveaway).

Kane’s always lived on borrowed time and he has made the most of it - working hard, creating a wonderful family and friend group and always giving back to his community.

So, this post (and this website really) is to recognise my hero - Kane the good bastard.

Blog #2 - the point is

Ever get that realisation that life is finite and that you are already probably more than half way through. Its that feeling you get when you are having a great back massage and you can see the clock on the wall. You know the oiled-up hands and elbows will pull away at 2:30 because you were too much of a tight-arse to pay for a full hour, but you really wish this would carry on for longer now. You pray they won’t stop early and might even ignore the clock and keep going just a little longer. Then its over.

Blog #1

This is just an experiment. Why did I say “just” an experiment? This is a fucking amazing life shattering experiment. OK that’s better.

This is an experiment to create a website and see whether it matters at all.

The general gist if this site is to create a place to vent my frustration at the mortal condition and more specifically, my mortal condition. I’m getting older and my body knows it. Last year I turned 50 and I had a procession of minor medical ailments associated with being an old bastard. I now have glasses for driving, had a sino-nasal re-bore and have a handy tube of cream to combat the grapes of wrath. What’s next? Not good.

But rather than complain about it (which i might also choose to do), I’d rather go hard and smash it. Throw caution to the breeze, take risks and live life - for real!

I’m still trying to figure out what this looks like. try this anyway: https://youtu.be/Sp3zaeOyL7Q