Chippies

So anyways, who actually likes Salt and Vinegar chips? Let me tell you: nobody. They’re rubbish. There was one guy who thought he liked them, but it turned out he didn’t. Besides, he was an idiot who didn’t know what he was talking about. These days he works at Channel Ten advocating for another season of Idol every year.

Despite this, the boneheads of Smiths chips, et al., think that in order to have a legitimate line-up of chip-based products, you have to include S&V. Dear me…how misguided and foolish they are. “But,” they would no doubt say, if they thought that I was anything but a raving looney with a vendetta against the S&Vs, “The consumer demands it.” Sound logic, except for one thing. The consumer is essentially a moronic sheep-like creature who strolls down the aisles of Woolworths, IGA or Coles jamming random things into his or her trolley based on whether or not there was an ad for them last night during Home and Away. He sees the maroon packet with shiney post-modern logo and tosses the product into his shopping without so much as a passing thought for the consequences.

Please, please, please, PL33ZE! For the love of all things sacred and edible in this world, do what you can NOW to break the cycle. Stop the mindless insult on our senses. Whoever you are, stop buying, making, selling, transporting, looking at or thinking about salt and vinegar chips. And while we’re at it, let’s see what we can do about bringing back Dr Pepper.

TRA

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Cheques and Faxes

Yesterday I read about an alarm system that, when triggered would:

1. Call the police
2. Take a photo of the intruder and email it to you
3. Place a video call from your security camera to your 3G mobile phone so you could return home immediately to stop the intruder
4. Turn on the coffee machine so that when you got home the intruder, the police and yourself could all sit down an have a nice cuppa before getting down to business

I mention this example of innovation in modern technology to remind everybody that we are in 2007 and things have never been so futuristic and to that end could people please stop sending faxes and cheques.

Faxes and cheques were no doubt brilliant in their day, but guys, that day has passed and so should these dinosaurs of our society. I am about to fax off an application form, do you think I should ring them beforehand and ask them if they would prefer a telegram? or a wax sealed scroll strapped to the leg of a messenger boy?

And another thing, I saw on the news last year that a pharmacy was using a robot pharmacist to dispense medications. That was 12 months ago and yet this morning I strolled into an Amcal only to find a perfectly ordinary human behind the counter. I was so outraged that I put in a complaint to the head pharmacist there. She must have been having a bad morning too because she began to vibrate and laser beams started shooting out of her glowing eyeballs. Her mechanical arms flapped around knocking medications left and right and before long the shop was reduced to rubble. She eventually found me cowering behind a display of tanning lotions, no-doubt her 3D infra-red scanner had given away my location.
I offered to pay for the damage but she said that they did not accept cheques.
“Ironic” I said. This was obviously too much for her English Semantics Modulator and she melted into a puddle of nano-circuits. Women!

My point is this. We can’t go on living like the Flintstones, but at the same time, we’re not ready to live like the Jetsons, not until I get my flying car anyway.

Take care.

TRA

Diversions

We’re still in pre-launch padding. That’s the trouble with counting down to something, you’re stuck with a finite number of numbers, and here we are jammed between minus one and zero, never a pleasant place to be. Suppose I had the urge to share something with you good folk. Would I be bound by my commitment to writing some auspicious “launch” entry to such an extent that I could not share some trivial little tit-bit in the meantime? Of course not, don’t be moronic.

Anna and I went on a bike ride. Two bike rides actually. About a week apart, on pretty much the same route. The difference? The first trip, my brake was stuck on, so I was totally exhausted by about half way through the trip. This time, thanks to my trusty screwdriver and an informative article I found on the internets on adjusting linear-pull braking systems, my brakes were working perfectly. And I enjoyed the ride immensely.

Turns out there’s a nice bike path that follows Throsby creek from Islington right around to Honeysuckle. From there, it’s a breeze to get out to Nobbys. I didn’t take my camera sadly, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Next time.

TRA