Jen might be on the wrong side of the Blog Wars but she reminded me to vote in the the new blog showcase and I agree with her vote for Our Mission from Bsurot Tovot, partly run by fellow MuNu-nik Daniel Moore.

Give it a look.

Australia has struck a key blow to the old Nigerian email scam thing.

A 39-year-old Sydney man will face court today charged with 17 offences relating to a multi-million-dollar internet scam based in Australia.

So you can now expect the extra room in your in-box to be taken by different spam to what you're used to. Although if you want to see a real scam, try this: Scalpers are asking more than $700 for Wiggles tickets as they tour New York. For $50 they can come watch the extensive collection of videos in the comfort of our home. I'll even provide the screaming kids.

Today seems to be the day of the weird.

So there's a "country" called the Principality of Sealand. They've got another website too. Reading the history of this place is both funny and worrying at the same time.

What's it really about? It looks like it is partly an internet haven set up to evade any Government controls on net activities. There's always those who take it all too seriously and argue that Sealand is not a country. I found a good summary of the "country" and the arguements surrounding the notion of "country".

However it isn't that unique. Is someone going to suggest an internet nation of blogs? Ooops, I just did.

If you want to see two guys fighting over a woman all on the net, then try this: there's Jim and there's Don fighting to win Helen's affections.

Why don't they realise they are all meant to be together?

Reality TV's desperate plunge to the bottom of the pool has almost been reached:

THIS is the model beauty six bachelors try desperately to bed in a new reality show — unaware she was born a MAN.

On second thoughts, it can probably go lower.

To divert your attention from the fact I will be mucking around with the backbones of the blog today, here's few pieces...

1. It appears scientists have discovered my secret stash in the bedroom drawer.

2. There's something witty or ironic to be said about this. Please feel free to add yours in the comments.

3. I've found my next job.

4. I've also found what I don't want to do next job. I couldn't bear to upload that photo.

5. Hong Kong's local ladies of the night should take a leaf out of Berlin's book.

6. Owwwwww! Blessing or curse? You decide.

7. Finally a token Halloween story.

Mrs M and I spent last night getting the "treats" ready for tonight's Halloween at Disneyland festival. Unfortunately there was not enough room in the basket, and Mrs M and I thought it best to check the contents. Just want to make sure the little ones don't get bad batches of chocolate. Please to report all is AOK.

Mrs M and her folks returned from Shenzhen with the required 58 DVDs, several scarfs and clothes made to order. Mrs M's father looked at me and promised he will never go back unless it was with me. I don't think he enjoyed looking at clothes all day.

Who reads blogs?

There are plenty of blogs in the world these days. There are the political, the comedic, the personal. Some are dedicated to sport, criticism, business. There are some by pros and plenty by amateurs. While most of the biggies are based in the US and are thus US-centric, there are plenty from other places, including Australia and Hong Kong.

This blog is a random mix of family news (for the family and friends back in Oz), Hong Kong happenings and other bits I pick up on from time to time. It is deliberately like this and in keeping with this theme there are deliberately no categories to sort through the mess. The blog reflects whatever comes into my little head at the time. My thoughts are not in order or in categories and neither is this blog. For that I make no apology. Hopefully there's something interesting enough to keep you reading, otherwise skip to the next entry and it will be on something very different.

But back to the original question. Who reads them? My theory is mostly they are read by either other bloggers or those who know bloggers. It is an ever-growing circle but it is still confined within itself. There are few outlets from the blogweb to the wider world or even into the wider internet.

This grouping of bloggers is a self-selected elite. Why an elite? It is easy to start blogging but there are still barriers to entry. You have to find a host, work out the format, decide on what your blog is for, create it and then post content. You need to be comfortable with technology and have a rudimentary knowledge of the net. Inevitably this requires a few things: computer and (usually) high-speed internet access, an ability to write at least moderately well and having something to say. Something different to say, otherwise your blog will remain visited by yourself and your Ma and no one else.

The blogweb is a slice of humanity. It is not representative of all humanity. It is not even representative of all internet users. It is diverse with different views and people...in some ways. In others it is very much all the same. There are so many original voices and spending some time following link to link can lead to the remote parts of the net. But what does it all add up to? Do blogs really do much? Can they influence anything in the real world? Or are they like those newspaper editorials that everyone gets wound up about but don't do anything to change anyone's mind? Doesn't all this diversity get monotonous?

All these blogs are just (mostly) talking to each other. Ideas and memes just spin around the blogweb at a hundred clicks a minute, but do they go anywhere else? Are there any examples where the blogweb has had an influence on the "real" world?

I sometimes imagine that all this blogging is a great diversion of energy for lots of intelligent people. It is the human equivalent of putting the 1,000 monkeys with 1,000 typewriters in a room to come up with Shakespeare. From my limited knowledge blogging has only caught on in a big way in the last three years. Maybe it's all too early to tell if it will amount to anything more than giving people an outlet to vent and have a mutual admiration society for each other. A way to say to the world: "I'm an individual," followed by the blogweb's "We're all individuals. We're all different," with apologies to Monty Python.

I've changed my mind because I read "XYZ" is something you rarely read in the blogweb. I don't know the answer. When is the last time you saw that in a blog?

To answer the original question of who reads weblogs? Everyone and no-one. Everyone in the blog web (or with connections to it). No-one that matters.

I'm ready for someone to change my mind.

The truth is I don't know the answer.

In order to demonstrate there are actually blogs that exist outside the United States I'm linking to Electric Venom in the hope of catching a few new visitors.

So if you're new around here, please have a look around and hit some of the links on the roll.

For regular visitors, ummmm, just pretend this is all normal. If we all smile the newcomers mightn't suspect anything...

Now it's mine turn to tell you about myself. My name is PB. I look like this. I have 8 teeth at the moment. I can walk and I can tell you that a duck goes "quack". I can say "Muma" and "Dada" and I even know who they are.

I like following my sister JC around. I want to do whatever she is doing while she is doing it. JC sometimes shares and sometimes doesn't. I like Misti too. She let's me play with her tail.

I like wearing necklaces. I like eating lots. I eat more than anyone else in the family. I eat more than everyone else in the family put together because I am a growing girl. I even eat Play-Dough.

I am always in a good mood. I smile all the time. I like watching Teletubbies and whatever JC is watching. I have short curly hair and I know how to blow a kiss and to point to the sky when an aeroplane flies past.

I would love a little brother to play with one day.

Hi, my name is JC and I've taken over my Daddy's blog for a while to tell you about myself.

I love Barbie. I think I look like Barbie. Barbie is beautiful. Pink is my favourite colour. Barbie is pink. Pink is Barbie. I also love my Hong Kong teddy. I love PB, she is a good toy. So does Misti.

I go to school. My daddy has some issues with my school, but I love it. I go for 3 hours every day, Monday to Friday. I am in Miss Phoebe and Miss Carole's class. I don't like pink. I love it.

When I grow up I want to be Barbie. I like playing in the playground, swimming in my boobies costume and waking up very early because Mummy and Daddy love me lots at 6am. I have lots of friends from Disneyland and school. I am always busy with birthday parties. I sleep in a proper bed and I have fallen out only twice. I also like purple, but pink is my favourite colour.

Sometimes the fountain at the entrance to Disneyland isn't working. Then I get Daddy to ring Bob the Builder. He can fix it. I love watching movies. I love the two Barbie movies, Rapunzel and Nutcracker. I dance ballet to Nutcracker. I am going to be a Barbie ballerina one day. I used to be scared of the Mouse King in Nutcracker until Mummy told me he was an angry mouse, not scary. I'm not scared now. I also like watching Toy Story (both of them), Finding Nemo, Monsters Inc., Play School, the Wiggles, Binka and Hi-5. I watch these a lot.

I have big eyes and long hair like Mummy and Barbie. PB and Daddy have short hair. I like eating cereal, sausage, schnitzel von krum and pizza. I eat these on my Barbie plate. I drink my water from my Barbie cup. I love dressing in my Barbie underpants, with my Barbie t-shirt. My favourite pajaymas are my Barbie ones, except maybe the Woody and Buzz ones, or the Disney Princess ones.

I love Barbie.

Came home last night to find we were the proud owners of an antique birdcage, although no antique birds in there. They apparently schlepped it all around the markets in Mongkok and on the train and received curious stares on the train. They were nothing compared to the curious stares they got when I got home. It actually is pretty good and could well be antique. I don't know if I'm ready for a bird to put it in though. We've already got a dog and fish, plus the kids. We even apparently had a little bat fly into our laundry yesterday. I'm not sure how many other living creatures my salary can cope with.

Mrs M and her folks also returned with another "genuine" Patek watch for me so I was happy. They are off to Shezhen today to do even more shopping. I think they will need an extra suitcase for all the goodies they keep picking up. I left Mrs M an order for a couple of DVDs: Lost in Translation, and Big Boooobiieeees Women 3. Hoping she'll at least get BBW3.

PB is much better after being sick for the last few days. We can tell she's recovering because she's back to eating her usual boatload of food each meal. She's always smiling and laughing and the first thing she does each morning is put her toy necklace on. I do fear these will be high maintenance girls. And I'm the mechanic.

Finally Halloween is near. There are two ways I can tell. The door to our apartment block at Disneyland is decorated with orange and black. Secondly there is an announcement on the notice board asking helpers to stand at the doorways from 6:30pm on Friday night to make it easier for the children who are running around trying to collect their body weight in lollies.

Looks like I might be able to merge my love of Thai food and my English soccer team, given the Thai PM has hinted he may buy the team. Al-Fayed denies it, but the truth is he's been looking to get out for a year or two as it couldn't get him English citizenship.

I imagine a few changes should the transaction happen. No more chips and pies at the game. Instead it will be Paad Thai and Mee Grob. Every full moon the team will play a "special" game on a beach island which goes for 28 hours non-stop. The new team mascot will be an elephant. Traffic jams around the ground will become common place, even if they aren't playing. And there will be some areas of the ground off-limits to the young ones. They don't need to know how to do that with ping-pong balls.

Conrad also has more to say on the (Bottom of the ) Harbour Fest, along the lines of my post this morning. I really hope this is one scandal that doesn't just "go away". Someone needs to be held accountable. Not that there is likely to be a repeat; no doubt the Government will find other inventive ways to waste tax money. It might be a world class low tax city, but Hong Kong's Government is world class at wasting money too.

Upadte on the Update: Phil's at it again too. Amazing how so many HK bloggers are going on about this.

Mrs M just rang. She's at the Bird Market with her folks. HK has lots of markets. Each street in Mongkok is dedicated to markets such as Jade, Fashion, Sports, Electronics etc. She's found a bird cage. She's been told it's antique. 80 years old no less. That's a lot of dead birds. Only costs HK$2,000. That's the bottom dollar - I even got a Cantonese speaker to talk to the shopkeeper on the phone.

The problem in HK is you can never be too sure if something is antique or "antique". Still we're the proud owner of a bird cage, sans birds. We've got enough animals already.

[WARNING: Bad pun coming]

I suspect she may be nesting.

[Boom tish]

Hong Kong people (and no doubt greater China too) has a particular attitude that runs something like this: "I come first, my family second, the rest of the world can sod off." This is reflected in ways great or small. I choose to dwell on the small.

Entering a lift involves trying to beat the doors closing while whoever is in the lift is frantically hitting the close door buttons. They can see you. They often look you in the eye as they hit the close door button. But if you get in you might get off on an earlier floor, and that would delay their much more important journey by 3 seconds. It would be disastrous.

Exiting a lift is even more difficult. There is no such rule as waiting for those in the lift to exit before the waiting hordes enter it. The same applies for trains. Now of course waiting for those inside to leave is a) courteous and b) an easier and even c) quicker way of doing things. Again this would make one look weak and you may give up your chance to frantically push the close door button on the lift. So everyone rushes in. How do you exit? The only way is to use your body as a battering ram. I kid you not, you actually have to physically push people out the way. I've used my squash racquet and gym bag as battering rams too. They tend to deflect the path of those entering but not by much. Just enough to squeeze out before you get trapped inside.

Lest you think this is overly-dramatic I was explaining this to a fellow expat in a lift yesterday. Sure enough we arrived at our floor and as we made to exit the lift 2 local co-workers barged towards us. Not strangers but people we sit with, work with and share water cooler with. I banged into the lady in front (I'm non-discriminatory in these matters) - there's no "excuse me" in these situations. The other person with me was trapped behind while the new entrants started hitting the close door button. I had to reach behind them to wrench him out. A little shaken but wiser for the experience he laughed and agreed that it is a no-beg-your-pardons life in HK.

For those not living in HK it might seem a wonder why there is so much angst over this. Here's a mini-link fest to show you what others and I are talking about: here, here, here, here, here and my own here and here. It's a lame little festival, hurriedly and poorly organised. If it was a private matter then it would be laughable and a little sad but nothing more.

But it is not. The HK Government has invested HK$100 million subsidising it. That's almost US$13 million of taxpayer money supporting a music festival that in large part only interests the expat community. The Government is in a fiscal mess and can still find the dollars for this shlamozel. The festival is organised by the American Chamber of Commerce (AmCham). Not a professional events organiser or music promoter, but a Chamber of Commerce. They knocked the whole thing together in 3 months with no prior experience and it is showing.

Today it has gone from bad to worse. According to this article inThe Standard:

The company designated by the American Chamber of Commerce to run the Harbour Fest is owned by its chairman, Jim Thompson, and his wife, a company search shows. The company designated by the American Chamber of Commerce to run the Harbour Fest is owned by its chairman, Jim Thompson, and his wife, a company search shows.

This is the company that has the contract for this festival for the next 5 years. No details yet if the HK Government intends to keep giving the subsidy.

Let's list the issues here:
1. A massive taxpayer subsidy to a private organisation with no discernable benefit for Hong Kong (unless you count bad publicity)
2. The lack of corporate governance at AmCham to allow its president to personally control the company running the festival. There are massive conflict-of-interest issues as well as probity issues. Will the accounts be audited and made public? If taxpayer's money is involved they should be.
3. The lack of control on the HK Government's part. The simply gifted HK$100mm to this without any checks or control.
4. The continuing lack of any pressure from the HK Government. Are they happy to see the money wasted like this? They owe nothing to the AmCham - why not start an investigation into the whole debacle.
5. The lack of accountability. The buck really stops with AmCham, but as a private organisation they can remain somewhat immune to pressure. The Government doesn't seem to have struck a contract the demands AmCham to take full responsbility for the festival and its consequences.

No doubt there are more issues but I cannot be bothered going on. It is a true scandal of the highest order and thankfully the press and public are not putting up with it. The new found voice of public opinion is again being heard in HK.

Imagine this happening in a country such as Australia or a state like California. The outcry and outrage would be deafening.

I hope that something comes of all of this.

A few more jokes for the ladies after this one yesterday.

A woman's perfect breakfast: She's sitting at the table with her gourmet coffee; her son is on the cover of the Wheaties box; her daughter is on the cover of Business Week; her boyfriend is on the cover of Playgirl; her husband is on the back of the milk carton.

A woman's revenge: "Cash, check or charge?" I asked, after folding items the woman wished to purchase. As she fumbled for her wallet, I noticed a remote control for a television set in her purse. "So, do you always carry your TV remote?" I asked.
"No," she replied, "but my husband refused to come shopping with me, so I figured this was the most legal evil thing I could do to him."

Finally this on understanding women: I'll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax, pour it onto your upper lip, rip the hair out by the root, and still be afraid of a spider.

The internet is at once a mix of the incredibly useful and useless. The law of statistics says that in any large group (such as web pages) some will be great and some will be average and some will be sh!t. I leave it to you to place this blog within that sphere.

However reading The Economist pointed me to a site called Why Not? People post ideas for the world to use as it sees fit. An open R&D operation. The top rated idea is a car brake light meter that shows the intensity of the braking through a scale of lights, like on a stereo. It is really fascinating what good ideas are out there.

I wonder if the manufacturers of the various mentioned products will get around to reading this and incorporate the ideas?

From fellow a Hong Kong blogger, Shaky Kaiser, comes this interesting scientific study on male attractiveness to females.

You may well be wondering what my little brother Paul was on about in the comments to this post - Light. You are in good company, because often I wonder what he's on about too. But let me clear this one up.

Without a doubt my mother ruled rules the roost in the house. Every so often we would find the vegetable of the evening meal would be Brussel Sprouts, hereafter referred to as BS. I know of no-one that can look into their hearts and say they like this vegetable. It is a travesty to call it a food, much like tofu. So the scene is set, one weekday night when I was about 14 years old:

Mumsie (dishing out dinner): "Here you go: potatoes, beef and BS."
Paul: "Thanks."
Da: "Thanks."
Me: "Actually Ma, I don't like BS. Can I please skip them."
Da and Paul: "..." (this is meant to be shocked and awed silence as jaws hit the ground. The cringing in anticipation of whatever may be next).
Mumsie: "OK, no problem. Enjoy."
Da and Paul: "..." (see above with more intensity).
Me: "Thanks Ma, your the best."
Da and Paul inner thoughts: "We too hate BS, but for years have also endured this torment. If we don't say something in the next 5 seconds, we will forever condemned to eat this blighted vegetable for all eternity."
Da and Paul inner thought continued: "Oh oh, all this thinking is lasting more than the 5 second window of opportunity. The window is slamming shut. Better think of Plan B."
Da and Paul (aloud this time): "That's OK, we both like BS."
Me (laughing): "Ha ha" (a la Nelson of the Simpsons).
Ma: "OK then, because there's Simon's extras to eat up as well."

The rest of dinner past in silence. A mixture of Da and Paul contending with their new-found love of BS, trying to convince themselves that with time they will learn to live the lie. Me, sitting there enjoying my liberation from BS forever more. And Mumsie basking in the warm glow, knowing that her domain remains intact.

I still look back fondly on that night. I think it was one of those rights-of-passage, when a child realises they can make decisions that are respected by others. And I have never eaten another BS again.

This post by Phil reminded me that Mrs M is due to get her new Hong Kong ID card soon. Everyone in Hong Kong has an ID card. You cannot function in this city without one. You need it to deal with the Government for everything from tax to booking squash courts. You need it to open bank accounts or obtain credit cards. You use it in conjunction with your passport at the airport.

I'm not sure what the new chip on the card does. If they linked it in with the Octopus card they would be onto something. The Octopus card is an electronic stored value card. No need to carry around change. It has spread far and wide in HK - you can pay for everything from the train to McDonalds with it. It is fully integrated with all forms of public transport except taxis. It is a great application of technology. Shame they haven't made the link between the new ID cards and the Octopus.

One thing about the ID cards. It is another proof that while HK pretends to be a free-wheeling capitalist mecca, it still retains plenty of Big Brother overtones. No one complains but it is slightly disturbing being known as a number by the Government. Just another part of the paternalist attitude that has existed here for a long time.

Not much time for blogging just at the moment. Suddenly there's a plethora of big wigs passing through en route to the Rugby World Cup in Sydney. And one of my co-workers is away. And all those annoying bits you keep putting off are suddenly coming up needing attention.

PB still sick, but getting better. In-laws spent the day yesterday lazing about. Mrs M bought a BBQ, emasculating my manhood in the process. I may as well get a poodle. I played Playstation last night at a friend's place. I love Playstation. On a 50 inch plasma, it's unbeatable.

One good thing is blogging looks similar enough to working that quick posts like this one don't arouse suspicions. Shame my boss reads it.

Following the previous educational outrage there's another to add to the pile.

This Friday is Halloween. Coming from Australia, where Halloween means nothing, we're new to all this. Pumpkins, lollies, chocolates, tricks and treats. It makes no sense to me at all. I suspect a bunch of pumpkin growers got together and said, "How can we boost sales of our disgusting tasting vegetable? I know, let's make a festival where you paint and carve 'em." "That's a great idea, Al. We'll steal what the egg guys did for Easter."

Mrs M is the class parent. This is not as glamorous as it seems. It means she needs to endure a couple of "morning teas" with other class parents and organise various assorted events. In this case it turns out Mrs M is responsible for the class plan for Friday's classes. You read correctly. This school, with paid professionals, abdicate their duties for a day so volunteers who already pay the exorbitant fees of the institution can run the class for the day. This involves bringing in food and drink, organising activities for the kids and more. What do the teachers do during this? No idea, but they sure aren't teaching.

If this was a Government school I wouldn't mind. But if it's a flippin' expensive private school, I want the teachers working 24/7. I want them working. I don't want them asking parents to do their jobs for them.

Again plugging the numbers in the super-computer I estimate this Friday will cost US $5,542.50 in wasted school fees. I am sure the kids will have a good time and that Mrs M will create a wonderful day. She was a pre-school teacher in her previous life. However I do object to her, or anyone else, having to do it at all.

My solution is simple. On the day I am going to eat as much junk treats as possible. That will show them!

Friday night had a great dinner at fellow Disneyland inmates. Always a nice feeling having a traditional Friday night Shabbat amongst friends.

Saturday morning I thought I'd give Mrs M some time off, and took the two girls up to a park. JC found a school friend, Helen. I think they were both a little confused seeing the other as it was completely out of context. But they quickly got over that and JC was fascinated with Helen's Barbie/Princess tiara. PB on the other hand was not a happy little camper. She would walk a little, look around and let go a huge cry. She calmed down once in the swings, but with others waiting we couldn't stay on there long. Other friends arrived at the park too but even this couldn't keep PB distracted for long. Sure enough in the short 10 minute car ride home PB feel asleep. Dead to the world kind of sleep. JC was belting out Hi-5 songs as we wound our way down the Peak.

Mrs M and I left the kids for their shluff (nap) and headed down to the pool. The water has already turned cold but the weather was beautiful so we ate and read and pretended we were adults for a a little while. Mrs M went and brought the kids down, and we spent some time playing. Our play options have been limited while Disneyland renovates the existing one. They've pulled out all the old rusting and rotting equipment, and replaced with half as much gleaming new equipment. Not sure that's a good trade off - a few blisters and rust never hurt anyone.

Saturday night went to dinner with friends down at Stanley. Went to their place first, made friends with the two cats. One of them took a liking to my jumper, which meant I was thoroughly cat furred by the time we left. No one noticed. Dinner was good Indian, the company was good. The place was packed with Indians, a good sign, all dressed up. I think it is some sort of Hindi festival at the moment and these people know how to enjoy their dinner. It made for good "atmosphere".

Sunday started with a bang. Namely PB's head going into the floor at speed. She got a nice bruise out of it. To get everyone outside and to calm them down we headed to the HK Cricket Club, where a friend was playing. The girls enjoyed some pool and playground time, while I relaxed watching some cricket. Very civilised way to spend some of Sunday. Returned to Disneyland where the rest of the family slept while I stood guard. This usually involves me eating chocolate on the couch reading and dozing. It's a tough job. Sometimes I have to move Misti so I can lie down. Very stressful.

In the afternoon we all headed off to the supermarket for what Mrs M called "a quick shop". $871 later, we took our two fully laden trolleys home. JC and I dumped the shopping with Mrs M and PB and raced down to Central. The in-laws were arriving at the Airport Express station and JC was excited in extremis to see them, and the trains, and the bus and the taxis. She had excitement overload. She decided she would sit on the floor directly outside the exit gates and wait for them. I watched and hoped someone would at least drop a few coins in her lap, but nothing. Stingy friggin Hong Kongers. Soon enough the tired in-laws arrived, and we trekked back up to Disneyland. We caught up, they unpacked, I washed up, we exchanged presents, and everyone was in bed early.

Poor little PB was sick during the night. Mrs M thinks she may be teething again, which PB does not deal with particularly well. The shame is she is usually so bright and happy. Hopefully that little b@st@rd will pop through the gum soon and we can return to normal programming.

Finally a couple of thoughts:

1. How is it that black pepper knows where the gap is in your teeth? The little sucker will lodge in the hardest to reach gap - has the world of denistry tried to exploit this?
2. This is for the CoL lads. There is a Rock, Scissors, Paper world championship. Gents, they would have nothing on us. Best of 7, loser buys lunch. Easiest rules in the world.

Shaky says I will be happy with Fulham's win over the disgusting Red Devils of Manchester.

Not really. Just try here for the match stats,
here for a match report, plus Chris Coleman's thoughts, and finally one more match report.

Fulham are often thought of as a team "making up the numbers" in Premier League. Since last season they've cut back on paying massive transfer fees and salaries and instead focussed on getting a good team with a good manager. It's paying dividends.

It is way too early to get too carried away. But Europe must be looming as a serious possibility next year if they keep up this form.

And for those who are not quite sure what I'm talking about, this is English football/soccer. That's the one with the round ball and goals. It's played by everyone in the universe, even some Americans.

God bless Fulham FC.

From today's unlinkable SCMP. I'm going to enter the article verbatim, with a few sarcastic comments in between:

Mystery surrounds drunken expat's four storey fall

A drunken man was injured in a mysterious four-storey fall from a Wan Chai short-stay hotel after he checked in with five young women yesterday.

Promising start. so far we've got "drunken", "expat", "short-stay hotel" and "mysterious". Not to mention "five young women".

The 42-year-old Briton arrived at the Victoria Hotel in Jaffe Road with the women at 3:25am, a hotel receptionist said. The man appeared to be drunk and was carried by the women into one of two second-floor rooms they had rented.

Ah, he's a Brit, a Pom. That explains at least some of it.

However 10 minutes later the man ran out of the room and left the hotel through its rear exit on the second floor.

As the five women searched the hotel for their companion in the hotel, the man was discovered by a watchman lying semi-conscious on the first-flor canopy of the building in a read lane.

Really?

Police believe he feel out of a window from the fifth floor. His fall was apparently broken by a clothes drying rack on the fourth floor before he landed on the first-floor canopy. The man was taken to Ruttonjee Hospital where his condition was described as stable last night.

Stable condition. That's a relief.

When he regained consiousness in hospital, he reportedly told police that he had been drinking heavily but failed to elaborate.

Really? Drinking heavily, failed to elaborate. There's a right to drunken silence in HK.

But wait, here's the punchline (my emphasis):

The hotel receptionist said the five women had left before policemen arrived. A police spokeman said initial investigations indicated no suspicious circumstances.

Nothing suspicious, carry on, nothing to see here then.

JC goes to a school called "Disneyland Educational Institution Pre-School Centre". It is many things, excelling in pre-school education blah blah blah. It is also horrendously expensive, but you can't put a price on your child's education, right? The teachers are all bright, fresh faced 20 something locals; the facilities are first rate and JC loves it. Every now and again she announces she doesn't want to go to school that day but these are few and far between. Let's face it, all of us have days we would rather stay at home and paint or ride the bike.

Today was JC's first school excursion. Each week we get emailed (this is a very tech-savvy school) the lesson plan. This week they are looking at autumn (they call it fall, but she will always call it autumn). They're also looking at Halloween, which JC's on her own on, because Halloween does not exist in Australia. Today's excursion was to the beach. I have no idea what the connection is. Mrs M went with the class. I rang to find out how it went:

Me: "How was the excursion?"
Mrs M: "We went to the beach, JC played in the sand and we came back to school."
Me: "Right, and what activities did the teachers run?"
Mrs M: "None. We went to the beach, played in the sand and came back to school."
Me: "..."
Mrs M: "You can't say three dots on the telephone."
Me: "That's stunned silence. Can you just repeat what you did at the beach."
Mrs M: "Sand. Shells. Sand castles. Shell castles. Then back to school and home."
Me: "I see. Does this count as a normal school day?"
Mrs M: "Not only that, we have to pay extra for the school bus trip to the beach and back."

I have already mentioned that this place is expensive. It caters to expats, which means the school charges like a wounded bull because most companies pick up the bill. In our case they pick up a (small) percentage. D'oh! It ends up working out that 145% of my monthly pay goes to paying the school fees. Then there's extras like uniforms, incidentals, Mrs M's time as class parent etc. I need to work 34 hours a day to pay for the fees. And then the family want to eat. I mean really where does it end?

By my back of the post-it note calculations, this trip to the beach has cost about $5,542.50. That's in US dollars. The numbers may be a little off, but basically today we paid for JC to do what we often do for free - go to the beach and play in the sand.

I'm thinking of posting an invoice to the school. But they won't pay anyway - they don't have a company package to pick up the tab.

Courtesy of Electric Venom there's this for JC and PB to laugh along with.

I was reminded to vote by my new fellow Munuvianans

The New Blog Showcase is pretty self-descriptive. Each week a bunch of new bloggers put their best entries forward, and the winner is decided by whichever receives the most links.

My vote this week is for Irreconcilable Musings and the comment on the recent DoS attacks from terrorists. For those who are unaware, a Denial of Service attack is the internet equivalent of war - a server is flooded with so many messages it cannot get on with its regular internet business thingy whatchit. It's all very technical and if I told you more I would just be plain wrong and making it up.

It's an interesting read.

I have just interviewed a prospective candidate to work here. Now I rarely talk about work on this blog, mostly because a large numbers of readers are co-workers. They are all fabulous, brilliant and amazingly good-looking people*. We are often reminded we are working with the best in the business. I just wonder if there are some places where they say: "You're working with the fifth best in the business. We've almost reached the average. Keep it up!"

As usual, I digress. The interview process is strange. Humans demand interaction, being social creatures. But what I can say about someone I've spent 20 minutes with asking a few questions I made up on the spot. I tested her knowledge. I tried a few curly ones. I avoided the HR favourites ("Please give me an example when you were in a leadership situation and how you applied those skills in your work.") I don't think I mentioned how this place, like all work places, has it mix of good and bad. Or that we tend to eat lunch at noon at the latest. Or there are a couple of rabid right-wing Republicans in this row. No need to scare her.

In the end though what is achieved? Not a lot. You get a first impression that is most likely misleading. Any time you are in an interview, are you being yourself, or trying to be the best version of yourself that is appropriate for the job? The truth is an interview just shows how good you are at doing interviews. The candidate sits there nervous, worried if there current workplace knows what they are up to. The interviewer is hearing the same five answers they've heard from every candidate they've seen to questions that come from the back of a distracted mind. It all finishes with handshakes and smiles and a thanks for coming and no-one's any the wiser.

Still it could be worse. It could've been something like Helen's presentation.

* Actually it's come up to bonus/review time, so it never hurts to say things like this.

In my day cheating at university was part of the experience. It was never on a big scale. There was the time when someone got a hold of previous Accounting 101 exams. Sure enough our paper had many of the same questions with the numbers changed. The university only found out because too many people got 100% on the multiple choice section and we all had to re-sit the test. So in fact the whole of first year accounting was punished because the professors were too lazy to come up with new questions.

Likewise we always had old fuddy-duddies supervising our exams. The idea was there was no chance of collusion with lecturers etc. The truth was these retirees were after the $50 for the two hours. They went through the motions but there were plenty of ways to get around the rules. For example, no programmable calculators. OK then, we all took in HP17BII financial calculators which are fully programmable, but use a menu system. So unless you've seen it before you cannot tell. We all had all of our formulae plugged in. Did it help? A little, but there reality is rote learning was the easiest part of these exams. Using the right formula, getting the right result and manipulating properly, that's what they were really testing. That's why we always dreaded "open-book" exams; that just meant you were going to get questions you had never seen before. God damnit, they expected you to think!

But these happy days I fear are gone. There are now services like this in operation. No more copious copying of each other's notes, or using Google to get that assignment done that's already a week late. We didn't have the net in the same way when I was at uni, but really, this is big brother gone too far.

If you cannot learn how to cheat at university, how are you expected to learn how to get ahead in your career?

After the last couple of blogs it's time to lighten things up a little.

1. It seems that even Mel Gibson is pushing things a little too far with the big guy upstairs. Ouch.

2. This could be the (dis)organisers of HK Harbour Fest's answer to the ongoing problems. Rock concert cancelled after sound check brings down ceiling.

3. Finally the answer for every politician's nightmare: get someone else to answer unwanted questions.

4. I think the USA's obsession with drugs is going too far. Now even the fish are on Prozac. That said my Australian friends are proving that age is no barrier in the other drug trade.

5. Those crazy Germans are at it again.

One of the great aspects of living with a family in Hong Kong is you can hire an amah (helper). They have a mandated minimum wage which is a pittance for us, yet considered an outstanding salary by their standards. They come from the Philippines, Indonesia and to a lesser extent other Asia countries including Mainland China and they earn more than many of their compatriots do back home. There many different kinds of people that do this job and you cannot generalise about them. You get the religious ones, the strange ones, the ones that use their day off to earn extra money (I'll let you imagine how), the ones looking for a husband, the ones running away from something, the ones supporting families. Often a combination of some or even all of these.

Our helper Jackie is a religious one. She keeps very little of her wage for herself, sending most of it back to the Philippines to her extended family. She gets on well with kids and Misti. It is clear she would dearly love kids of her own but her attitude is she will wait for God to provide. She works 6 days a week, starting her day about 6:30am taking Misti for a walk, finishing around 8pm after our dinner. She cleans the house daily, helps with the girls, sometimes cooks and often babysits. By all accounts we are good employers - a walk around the car park at 11pm will usually have several helpers washing cars and I have seen people talk to their helpers like they were sub-human (and this includes kids).

It is 6 months since Jackie started with us. As a middle class Aussie family we never had anything like this back in Oz. Mrs M chose to stay at home with the kids rather than returning to work so there was really no need. To have her around is a luxury we constantly appreciate. Many of the menial but necessary chores around the home are done for us and this gives us more time with the girls. Plus having a constant babysitter on hand allows for much more flexibility in our social lives, especially Mrs M during the week.

Jackie lives with us. She has her own quarters, which are small but seperate from the rest of the apartment. However even after 6 months it feels strange to have a non-family member living in the house. Think about that - you have a person living in your house, not a family member, not a flat-mate but an employee. It leads to seemingly small changes in your home living. We have to be careful of what we say in front of her, because the amah community is small and word travels fast. She has her regular duties, but then we're aware she doesn't have enough to do all day. She is part of our experiences here but she is not a part of our family. The idea of your home as your haven from the outside world is slightly altered because a little bit of the outside world lives with you.

There are many issues that come from having her around. We don't want her to be idle but it's silly just making up jobs for the sake of it. There's only a certain amount that needs to be done. We want the girls brought up a certain way and Jackie has to get used to that. We also have to learn that sometimes she will do things differently to how we would do them. It even gets down to remembering to put clothes on if you're walking around the house. I'm not saying we're nudists, but if I'm off to the kitchen for some water I'll put something on even if I know Jackie is in her room. It makes me a lot more aware in my own home. It's not that I'm uncomfortable, it's just that I need to keep reminding myself my family's home is someone else's home too.

As I said, it's strange and I'm not used to it yet. I hope I don't get used to it either. That will be a sign I've been here too long.

One of the downsides to living in an apartment with a dog is the toilet thing. Misti the Wonder Dog is pretty good, managing to hold on to her pishes until she gets taken outside. She's taken out regularly. She starts each day with an hour walk with Jackie, our amah (helper). She'll go out twice more during the day, and then at night, sometimes with me and sometimes with Jackie. But one thing Misti cannnot get the hang of is where to do her No. 2s. Luckily we have wooden flooring so it's jusst a matter of picking it up when it appears. Having two kids as well means usually I'm pretty immune to the feelings of repulsion one would expect when dealing with this. In fact JC often helpfully points out the offending items, by calling out "Poooo poooo" until something is done about it.

I'm usually the first one out of bed in the mornings as I chow down some cereal and get ready for work. I can tell straight away if Misti has left something for us overnight. Don't ask how. It's a sixth sense. Actually, I can smell it too, but this is all gross enough already. This morning I could tell. I went to the usual spot where these things are left. Sure enough there it was. But Misti is not feeling well and you can tell. Usually her deposits are nice and hard and easy to pick up in a plastic bag and throw away. Not today. I could hardly face my cereal again.

That was a bad start. But then JC was playing by the doll's house. Yes she is a genius and very cute and she's toilet trained. However today she had an accident. Again with a number 2. In the middle of the dining room. I'm just trying to eat some corn flakes and read the paper. It's too early to deal with this stuff.

Normally all this doesn't affect me too much. For some reason the one-two punch really got me. Aren't kids and dogs great? Still I know when I walk in the door tonight JC and PB will look and beam when they see me, and Misti will be jumping up and down with her tail wagging furiously. By then, all this morning's events will be a distant memory.

The new IFC tower in Hong Kong is huge. It's well over 100 stories tall. IFC is rumoured to stand for Incredible F*ck!ng Colossus. It's less than 1/4 occupied, reflecting the poor state of Hong Kong's property market despite the protestations to the contrary by the usual vested interests. But Hong Kong is an entrepreneurial place and blank space is a waste. Most office buildings either have advertising or silly light patterns on them, and often both. Usually they advertise the latest Canto-pop starlet's album or designer clothers. Their very sameness detracts from the fantastic collection of buildings behind them.

So you're running the IFC, you're losing money hand over fist, but you're in the most visible spot on the island. Of course, you put an advertisement on the side of the building. I kid you not when I say this banner must be 50 stories high. It's made of that see-through banner material so if anyone is working inside the building they can still see out. It's advertising a newspaper and an airline. But the sheer size of it distracts attention from whatever it's advertising and defeats the purpose. Plus it makes a phallic symbol look like it has a covering now...perhaps it is a subliminal message to all Hong Kongers to be safe.

I want to know what they do with it if a typhoon hits.

Exploiting this blog's new found ability to use images, I'm starting a new series of disturbing yet real album covers from the 70s. Proof of all that was wrong with that decade. Whereas I am proof of all the was good from that decade. Some may say this is blog filler, something to keep the punters going for a while between "real" posts. To those people I say: you're 100% right.

Maybe I should turn this blog over to my Dad today. Another courtesy of his semi-retirement, questionable sense of humour and too much time at the computer:

As I've Matured...
I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in.
I've learned that one good turn gets most of the blankets.
I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just jackasses.
I've learned that whatever hits the fan will not be evenly distributed.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to others - they are more screwed up than you think.
I've learned that depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
I've learned that it is not what you wear, it is how you take it off.
I've learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're finished. (Ed note - seethis post for my first hand experience in this field)
I've learned to not sweat the petty things, and not pet the sweaty things.
I've learned age is a very high price to pay for maturity.
I've learned that I don't suffer from Insanity, I enjoy it.
I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities.
I've learned that artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.
I've learned that 99% of the time when something isn't working in your
house, one of your kids did it.
I've learned that there is a fine line between genius and insanity.
I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away. And the real pains in the ass are permanent.

My Dad helpfully points out that with the Australian dollar hitting new heights it might be time to consider moving back to Australia and driving a taxi instead. That said I would have to support two sets of grandparents too in the style they have become accustomed...it's a line ball decision at the moment. Except I don't think you can blog much from a taxi. Better scrap that idea.

Hong Kong's dollar is tied to the US dollar, whereas my bank in Australia expects me to repay the home loan in Australian dollars. This means that as the Australia dollar becomes more expensive in US dollars, I am getting squeezed. It all hurts. And mortgage rates are expected to rise soon in Australia. And my bank expects the money to be repaid every single month. They are very unreasonable.

Hence my daily morning prayer goes as follows: "Please God, smash the Aussie dollar as low as possible as soon as you can. Amen."

Please repeat the prayer with me daily.

Sorry for all those photos. I am mucking around with this new system - originally I was going to put small thumbnails of each image in the sidebar. However it was soon obvious to me that my extremely limited skills would be no match for this challenge, so I cheated and used this method instead.

Pretty good looking family, huh?

Beats playing 20 questions in the back of a car on another family holiday.

See if you can baffle the computer. It couldn't guess glasses when I tried it. If computers are this dumb, how did they end up ruling the world in the Terminator movies?

This is more to test if I can upload images. I might add that none of these mourners are me. I'm out of picture starting the wake.

Simon World is moving to here.

This blog is on the move. The new Simon World is here. It is already working and going forward I will only be posting there.

Can you please update your links and bookmarks. The new website is:

http://simonworld.mu.nu

Why have I moved? I am sick of Blogger crashing, losing templates and the like. The new service allows uploading of images (there's one there already as a test) and I will be posting the much demanded photos of myself and family soon. Actually no one has demanded them, but once you see them you might wish you hadn't.

One consequence is unfortunately I cannot carry the comments from this blog to the new one, although the new one has a better comments system. Hopefully soon all the old posts from this site will get shifted over to the new one too.

Please tell all your friends and family, and even those strangers on the street, about the move.

Thanks.

We had a breakthrough last night. No one in our house fell out of bed last night. No one cried at 3:30am. We actually managed 8 continuous hours of uninterrupted sleep. The world seems to be a better place today.

Just enough time for a bit of a rant. The unlinkable SCMP has an article following remarks by Singapore's Prime Minister, Goh Chok Tong, that Australia will only be accepted in the region when half its population is Asian. He's following on from that noted philosopher Mahathir who described Australia as "some sort of transplant from another region".

The article continues: Among Asian countries, negative perceptions of Australia have been fuelled by Canberra's intervention in East Timor in 1999, its hardline treatment of asylum seekers, and its robust support for the United States-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

US President George W. Bush caused embarrassment for Australia last week, when he praised the country for acting as a "sheriff" to the US in the Asian region.

Australia tends to get itself into a lather over things like this. I'm not really sure why. The reality is Australia is not part of Asia. It is not part of America. It is not even part of Europe. It is a country unique geopolitically, being a country of Anglo-Saxon heritage but placed in the bottom of Asia and the Pacific Rim (or the top, depending on your point of view). Australia trades and is politically engaged with Asia, just like it is with the US, with Europe and the like. Our biggest security threats are from Asia, especially South East Asia. But is this a part of the world Australia really wants to be a part of? ASEAN proudly counts Mynamar as a member without any comment. Asia is a nebulous concept, much like the idea of Europe, even despite Europe being much more developed in integrating and being a united continent.

These are just groupings. They mean nothing. They have no impact on the world. Sure Asia nations have much in common; they also have plenty that divides them. Just because they are all next to each other means little in economic or political terms.

If there are negative perceptions in Asia because we helped East Timor, then tough. If the rest of Asia disagrees with the asylum policy, tough. If the rest Asia doesn't like Australia supporting the war in Afghanistan, Iraq or elsewhere, tough. This is what Australia, democratically, has chosen to do.

Instead of getting all hot and bothered about what these Asian "statesmen" have to say about Australia in Asia, the country should get on with being itself. Australia suffers an insecurity and inferiority complex. The Queen of the UK is still the head of state, the Union Jack is still part of the flag. While in some ways Australia is an advanced country, in many others it has growing up to do. It needs to feel secure in its own identity and stop worrying what anyone else thinks. This is what the US (with support of some other nations, including Australia) in its war on terror and Iraq. When it comes to the crunch a country needs to say what it believes in and then believe in it. The policies causing the "negative perceptions" of Australia in Asia are policies of a democratic country asserting its place in the world.

Better get used to it.

We had a breakthrough last night. No one in our house fell out of bed last night. No one cried at 3:30am. We actually managed 8 continuous hours of uninterrupted sleep. The world seems to be a better place today.

Just enough time for a bit of a rant. The unlinkable SCMP has an article following remarks by Singapore's Prime Minister, Goh Chok Tong, that Australia will only be accepted in the region when half its population is Asian. He's following on from that noted philosopher Mahathir who described Australia as "some sort of transplant from another region".

The article continues: Among Asian countries, negative perceptions of Australia have been fuelled by Canberra's intervention in East Timor in 1999, its hardline treatment of asylum seekers, and its robust support for the United States-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

US President George W. Bush caused embarrassment for Australia last week, when he praised the country for acting as a "sheriff" to the US in the Asian region.

Australia tends to get itself into a lather over things like this. I'm not really sure why. The reality is Australia is not part of Asia. It is not part of America. It is not even part of Europe. It is a country unique geopolitically, being a country of Anglo-Saxon heritage but placed in the bottom of Asia and the Pacific Rim (or the top, depending on your point of view). Australia trades and is politically engaged with Asia, just like it is with the US, with Europe and the like. Our biggest security threats are from Asia, especially South East Asia. But is this a part of the world Australia really wants to be a part of? ASEAN proudly counts Mynamar as a member without any comment. Asia is a nebulous concept, much like the idea of Europe, even despite Europe being much more developed in integrating and being a united continent.

These are just groupings. They mean nothing. They have no impact on the world. Sure Asia nations have much in common; they also have plenty that divides them. Just because they are all next to each other means little in economic or political terms.

If there are negative perceptions in Asia because we helped East Timor, then tough. If the rest of Asia disagrees with the asylum policy, tough. If the rest Asia doesn't like Australia supporting the war in Afghanistan, Iraq or elsewhere, tough. This is what Australia, democratically, has chosen to do.

Instead of getting all hot and bothered about what these Asian "statesmen" have to say about Australia in Asia, the country should get on with being itself. Australia suffers an insecurity and inferiority complex. The Queen of the UK is still the head of state, the Union Jack is still part of the flag. While in some ways Australia is an advanced country, in many others it has growing up to do. It needs to feel secure in its own identity and stop worrying what anyone else thinks. This is what the US (with support of some other nations, including Australia) in its war on terror and Iraq. When it comes to the crunch a country needs to say what it believes in and then believe in it. The policies causing the "negative perceptions" of Australia in Asia are policies of a democratic country asserting its place in the world.

Better get used to it.

Just starting out in the new world of mu.nu

This is the second test. Hoping to go live by the end of this week.

Blogging likely to be light for a little while; in the process of making a major change to this blog. Please bear with me if things get a little screwy for a while.

The big sushi problem is solved. For those of you have followed the story of the Pret boycott I am pleased to say a solution has presented itself. The new IFC next to work has a City Super supermarket, which luckily has an extensive sushi bar. The quality is good, the pricing is high but it is sushi. I will endevour to replace the poll sometime now it has become redundant. That said I will still never enter a Pret until they live up to their promise of restoring sushi to their menu.

Now for this blog's first secret. This secret needs to be kept from Mrs M at all costs. She reads this blog, so it's all just a bogus plot to generate another post. But I digress. The new IFC shopping mall is shaping up to be a shopping paradise. So far I have counted two shoe shops on the walk to the supermarket. Then I spy names such as Tiffany's, Burberry, CK, Zenga and so on. I missed the signs saying these were the seconds stores, or the factory outlets for these chains. That makes me think only one thing. This is a place to avoid, these are genuine retail outlets. If Mrs M comes into town for lunch I am going to have to push to go somewhere like the fast food place down by Star Ferry.

Which leads to my next interesting Hong Kong observation. They have the most inefficient method of payment for goods. Take my purchase of my sushi lunch today. You go to the counter, pick your dish. The person at the counter takes it, gives you a slip of paper and points you to the cashier. You go to the cashier, pay and get another piece of paper, stapled with the first. Finally you return and present all your paper and get your lunch. Now I've never worked in retail so I am unaware of the difficulties in handling cash from customers. But if they see it fit for the person to handle the goods (in this case, sushi) is it asking too much for them to take my money and give me my change too? Obviously it is. HK people seem no less trustworthy than those working in retail back in Australia. Indeed many seem more trustworthy. So why can't they take my cash and give me my lunch in one combined movement?

The only possible gains are it would be quicker, easier and they wouldn't need a specialist cashier. This is not a one-off either; all retail outlets in HK operate like this. You pay one person and take delivery from someone else. It applies in Government offices as well. A visit to the Transport Department usually involves a minimum of three counters - one to get the forms, one to present the forms and the last to pay the fees. It is specialisation gone mad, the division of labour to the nth degree. A little multi-skilling will work wonders for this place. Of course it would make the unemployment situation worse, but that's the price of making my lunch transaction faster.

If I ever again feel down, like last Friday, I now know where to turn to. I will simply read this story again from Shaky Kaiser.

Here's one quote from an entertaining piece:

So there I am, tottering through the hotel, with sh!t on my shorts, puke down my back, and a half naked comatose woman on my shoulder. Talk about a walk of shame.

It gets better.

JC feel out of bed again last night. This wasn't funny like last time, mostly because Mrs M and I have not had more than 5 hours of continuous sleep since the girls started sharing their bedroom a few weeks ago. There is some rubber matting on the floor to cushing the blow, and she was asleep again as soon as I plonked her back in her bed. It then took me 1 1/2 hours to fall asleep again, before PB decided 5:51am is the perfect time to wake up. All I can think about is how soon I will be in bed again.

To distract myself, here's a collection of breaking stories:

1. There's some major problems in Norway's hospitals: A hospital in the northern Norwegian town of Trondheim has opened a special "kiss 'n' drive" lane for employees after tiring of the traffic jams caused by their spouses dropping them off for work. Most people I know are pushing their spouses out the car as quickly as they can when they drop them off for work. The best part here is how they demarcate the lane: pink hearts are painted on the asphalt. That'll get them moving faster.

2. I have to include this one because Mrs M's family is Hungarian, and her 6 foot plus father is coming to stay with us soon. Tony Curtis is preparing for a new leading role - to help promote tourism in Hungary.

3. To prove there are also dumb Australians, there is this timely warning from doctors. Doctors have warned Australians not to eat slugs. I have to re-assess my lunch plans.

4. Times are tough in the Ukraine. They can't even afford real silencers anymore. Ukrainian police have arrested a man caught with a gun and a cabbage he intended to use as a silencer.

Lastly my first Competition is going well, with responses flooding in. That is actually a lie, but thanks to Oda Mae for the first story. Please feel free to join in by following this link or using the link on the sidebar. Just make up a story up. No one will ever know.

Recipe of the Day: Grackles on Toast

3 Grackles, medium, peeled
Toast

Put grackles on toast. Serves 6.

The Brights are a new group trying to establish the word as a noun to describe those who's worldview is free of supernatural and mystical elements.The ethics and actions of a bright are based on a naturalistic worldview.

What does that mean? Basically it is a group of who are skeptical and who's view of the world is naturalistic ie conceiving of reality as natural. This excludes the supernatural or mystical, it excludes the "other worldly". Check out the website for more; it's an interesting concept. Personally I agree with most of the ideas in being a Bright.

I am always thankful for Mrs M. She's not just beautiful, funny, smart and interesting, she's a great wife and mother to the two kids I so far acknowledge as mine. She also puts up with me and is prepared to often been seen in public with me. She really is very special.

Then I read a tale of love in Hong Kong. With a sequel to boot. Forget Kill Bill. This is the real deal with everything in it: threesomes, mixed nationalities, Wanchai, alcohol, bashings and more.

I would love to option the movie rights to this.

Hong Kong Gweilo Fest is going from strength to flop in record time. Prince was good on Friday night, with the organisers only having to give away 700 free tickets and the removal of 1,000 otherwise empty seats from the expensive seat area. Still it looked like it was pretty full, so they got away with that. The family day on Saturday was by all reports well attended, with a jumping castle and other kid friendly activities filling up the empty space. Saturday night's Craig David concert was the low point. The stadium was half full even despite a desperate attempt to give away free tickets.

The whole event is Government subsided and a complete waste of money which I have gone on about before. The organisers are the American Chamber of Commerce (AmCham), who have shown that as rock concert organisers they make a great Chamber of Commerce. The only people who were going to buy tickets to this thing were expats for the Western stars; these expats are not teeny-boppers looking for the latest boy band heart-throb. Prince was a good idea, Craig David a stupid one. If they really wanted full houses they need a mix of stars like Prince, who let's face it were biggest in the 80s (or as far back as the 60s for the Rolling Stones), and some local Canto-pop stars that would sell out in 3 seconds and make the local population appreciate they are getting something out of the whole exercise. That's nothing more than common sense. Instead it seems they have gone out and tried to find who was available and make a Festival out of that. It is just such an obvious cock-up and waste.

Weekends tend to be an interesting mix of trying to find things to do with the kids, and ferrying them to birthday parties. We started Saturday with a visit to Ap Lei Chau (a small island just off HK Island). There is a large shopping centre there with furniture shops and more importantly for this mission, toy and kids shops. The girls had a ball trying to play with every toy in every shop. Luckily JC didn't find what Mrs M and I called the "aisle of Death", which was 10 metres of Barbie from floor to ceiling. Returned home for the girls nap, only for PB to wake first for a change. I took her for a walk and was happy to witness her first ever golf shot. She sliced a little, but nothing that cannot be fixed in time. I'm looking for an appropriate moniker, something like Tiger, but more feminine. Perhaps Tigress.

That evening we went to some fellow Disneyland inmates' for dinner. As Mrs M pointed out, it is odd to be going out for the night by walking down some steps from our apartment to someone else's place. We ate and chatted and played some board games, which can always be a testing time in a friendship. Luckily both marriages and friendship survived the night, despite some cheating by our opponents. Mrs M gift for working out what my stupid drawings and charades represent meant we proudly held our own.

Sunday there was a charity bazaar at the Disneyland complex. It was smaller than expected with the usual collection of unwanted toys, chutchkas (Mrs M talk for useless bits and pieces) and books. JC played on the jumping castle before she and Mrs M headed to another birthday party. Not before she purchased her very own Barbie balloon of course. This meant PB and I were left to spend some quality time together. We sat on the grass on watched a couple of the acts they had performing. Someone in the crowd passed out, which was dramatic for 5 minutes, but it took 20 for the ambulance to arrive and the drama to pass.

The entertainment started again. Now I can see why as a parent you would be proud and happy to watch little Margie do her ballet. I can even admit that is cute for a couple of minutes. But 45 minutes of it is getting too much; and the clowns were pretty lame too. Thankfully PB also eventually realised the cr@ppiness of what was going on and we left. PB walks everywhere now. This made the 100 metre walk from the bazaar back to our apartment complex take 30 minutes. PB has an unerring sense of which way is the right way to go and then go the other way.

JC returned from her party with another, larger Barbie balloon plus an Elmo balloon for PB. We then headed back to the bazaar for the afternoon, where JC again went on the jumping castle. Interestingly it deflated while she was on it which she thought was great fun. The rest of the afternoon we mucked around on the grass even though the fair finished at 4pm. The girls decided to use the stage to play their newest game, which I like to call "Run around and scream". The rules are simple. Run around. Scream. Fall down. Start over. They play it indoors too, which then leads to another rule - stop when Mummy or Daddy say so. For some reason this rule has not yet been accepted into the game. We returned home and JC and I watched (can you guess) Barbie in Nutcracker, which included us doing our usual flourishing ballet routine at the end. She takes after me in the dainty department I'm afraid.

Now most evenings I take Misti the wonder dog for a quick walk so she can relieve herself before bedtime. Last night we walked to our usual spot, she spent 15 minutes braving the gale force winds sniffing every square inch of the turf before finally doing her thing. Then as we walked back to our apartment we walked past a family getting into a car for the airport. A mobile phone went. I did a double take. The ring was unmistakable. Hava Nagila. Maybe Dr Mahathir meant we rule the world by mobile phone ring, not proxy.

There are two places where a cigar can be considered inappropriate. One involves Monica Lewinsky, the other is a rock concert. I'll come back to that.

The Purple Jehovah's Witness (PJW) played last night to kick off Gweilo Fest, Hong Kong's attempt to waste taxpayers' money just like the mainland did with their space launch. Sure it isn't on the same scale but it is a lot more useless as well.

I met Mrs M at Pacific Place, the most expensive shopping mall in the world. We ate a quick dinner, chatted with some friends, then joined the rest of Hong Kong's Gweilo population and headed over to the Tamar site. This site is by day a vacant lot, used as a parking lot before it eventually achieves its destiny of becoming another monolithic skyscraper, this one acting as the central Government offices. That's not until 2008 or so and in the meantime they need to do something with it.

We approached via a covered walkway which had been featured in the SCMP (the world's worst newspaper) in an article describing the best places to watch the concert without paying. It turns out the local constabulary read the SCMP because there were cops and barricades to prevent those freeloaders who thought they could get away with staring at the back of a grandstand and hearing the music.

The crowd was varied. There were bankers, lawyers, even a smattering of accountants. There were Brits, Americans, Aussies and I even detected a few South Africans. A few token locals were there too, but obviously they were a ploy by the local TV networks so they would have someone to interview post-concert. Security was lax, which is interesting because a bomb or some such would have decimated the finance and legal industry in this city. The venue itself was well laid out with big walkways, a big drink/food stand and an even bigger merchandising stand.

Mrs M and I made a quick pit-stop at a corporate box, with enough time to gulp down a drink and have a pee in the "VIP" (read non-stinking) toilets. Sure we were missing some Canto-pop princess trying to whip the crowd up with some lamentable covers, but that is the sacrifice we made. We made our way to our seats, which were surprisingly good given we bought them 2 days ago. The night was clear and reasonably mild so it all seemed to be coming together nicely. We sat and waited for the PJW to start. Behind us there were plenty of empty seats but looking out there were many eager faces ready to dance.

After ten minutes of blackness a lady appeared on stage and played some free-form jazz for another ten minutes or so. The crowd started off clapping and cheering, but after a couple of minutes there was plenty of staring around wondering if we had landed in the wrong concert. Eventually PJW made it onto the stage, gave the obligatory "Hello Hong Kong" and kicked off with "Let's Go Crazy". Sure he forgot to mention that huge sum he was being paid for this one-off, but the crowd no longer cared. Sure he wasn't wearing purple, but it seemed he was going to do all the old numbers everyone knew the words to and none of the new stuff that no one had heard since he changed his name forty two times.

Around this time some unmistakable aromas wafted past us. The sweet smell of the "wacky weed" of course, but also the pungent scent of a Cuban. This was 5 minutes into a 2 hour concert. The ladies in front of us soon moved to some of the vacant seats further up from us, leaving us fully exposed to this loser's poor timing, pathetic dancing and obnoxious cigar smoking. To distract us there was a woman two rows down who was from the epilepsy school of dancing, and then a bunch of wbankers in front high fiving every few minutes and yelling at each how much fun they must be having.

Unfortunately though the PJW had mislead everyone. A short version of "When Doves Cry" was followed by 30 minutes of his "jazz phase", which mixed some appropriately boogy-ish style songs with some nice stretches of musician-ship. But the crowd hadn't paid for a demonstration of scale manipulation, they wanted the good songs. "Sign of the Times" and "Nothing Compares to You" were sprinkled between the lesser known stuff, and the PJW did his best to keep the crowd going, with plenty of handclaps, sing-a-longs and the bouncing up and down thing. He knew that if said "Hong Kong" he was guaranteed a cheer, so he said it five times. I asked Mrs M if he was just checking where he was, or was it part of his contract to mention the city a set number of times? The obligatory finale (why do rock acts persist with this cliche?) was "Purple Rain", a good song but not one that has you tapping your foot all the way home.

Overall I'd rate it 7/10. The good parts were good, the bad parts were few and far between but there were definitely in between parts that were just that. The pacing was off and the song mix was not well thought out. That said the crowd had a good time and I walked away thinking it had been a good, fun way to spend an evening. The atmosphere was good, the venue was perfect. If nothing else Mr. PJW is a good showman. I was sitting at the end rather than on my feet yelling for more, but had done my fair share of shimmying with Mrs M.

Yes the whole thing is a waste of money. Yes it mostly benefits the expats rather than the greater population of Hong Kong. There are not many local stars on the menu, but local starts only appeal to 95% of Hong Kong and Guandong's population of 150 million, whereas this is meant to appeal to...well, I'm not really sure who to. The festival rationale is to put HK back on the map post SARS, but paying a bunch of Western rock stars and geriatrics to come here is not going to make Mr and Mrs Average American say, "You know honey, if the Stones think HK is OK, why don't we go there for a week too?"

All that said, it was so flippin' loud I think most of HK heard the concert last night anyway. So while 6.99 million people subsided 10,000 of us to hear the PJW they got to hear some of it too. And it pushed that flippin' astronaunt off the front of the Communist Party's paper in Hong, the South China Morning Post. Money well spent.

To get myself out of my cr@ppy mood I'm going to trawl the net for people and things to laugh at.

1. Ha ha! He went all the way into space for a day and missed the main attraction! China's first astronaut has blown a myth by admitting the Great Wall of China cannot be seen from space.

2. Ha ha! This is French-style justice. A French judge has been caught masturbating in court. Sure everyone thought lawyers were w@nkers, but who ever thought it was really the judge.

3. Ha ha! 30 stone is going to put even the best mobile home floor under pressure. A 30-stone Florida man had to be rescued after falling through the floor of his mobile home.

4. Ha ha! This is economic protectionism gone mad. Tanzania has banned imports of secondhand underwear. First you can't trade used undies, then what next? Spoiled milk? Used syringes?

5. Ha ha x2!! This item gives two for the price of one. Firstly Japanese hospitals are now using bears as doctors; secondly the male patient at the hospital was in the lobby's smoking section for his morning cigarette, another interesting approach to medical care.

I feel better. It's good to laugh at other's expense. It reminds me how ridiculous the world can be.

This site has marked it's first milestone. Approximately 8am HK time today the 1000th visitor hit this site. I do not count when I hit my own site, otherwise we would have hit 1000 on the first day. I do count when my brother, Ma, Pa, Mrs M, Mother and Father-in-law and Misti the dog hit the site. Thus I estimate there are 3 outside visitors to this site. With this influence I feel I am really achieving my aims of world peace and inner harmony. Or at least getting the family to use the internet a little more.

This is actually a small part of my massive audience. I have seen many hits from outsiders. Many of these are due to my now world famous Siegfried and Roy tiger attach video which thanks to a spelling mistake got all those spelling it Sigfried as well. The Collingwood jokes post also lead to a big hit from those hitting Google looking for witty insults for those unfortunate Pies supporters. Most of the others have gone unnoticed, for which I am eternally grateful.

I have many people to thank for achieving to this milestone. I'd like to thank the Academy for this award, I'd like to thank my workplace without which my blogging would not be possible, and most of all I'd like to thank you, the little person, without whom I couldn't step on to make myself look taller. Hang on, did I just think that or write it. Oops. D'oh!

In fact this blog has won many awards. Such as the least linked blog from Evil Glenn, the Blogfather; the blog least likely to talk about Greenland. and the blog that will never, ever eat at Pret A Manger ever again. This award will stand tall next all of those in that imaginary mantelpiece in my head.

It is now 2pm and I am just starting my lunch. By local standards this is actually closer to dinner, as lunch tends to start at noon at the latest. I finished my Cantonese lesson (Neih haih leng neui - you are a beautiful woman) and quickly headed out to pick up tickets for tonight.

First over to City Hall. It's the wrong box office sir, but please try the ESD kiosk in the MTR. An ESD kiosk is a computerised service where you can purchase concert tickets, book events etc. It's very impressive technology and shows how much HK actually has thought about using technology to make things easier. Except when it doesn't work, like today. I enter the MTR (train station), find a queue of gweilos (whites) and know this is the right machine. Quickly the queue melts away - the machine isn't working. It doesn't have enough blanks in it to print tickets for collection. A phone call to the help line tells me to go the Fringe Club. This is at the top of a hill, above Lan Kwai Fong, the bar district.

Make way up said hill, despite 35 degree heat and 95% humidity. Bump into a friend and make dinner arrangements for tonight, before climbing to the top of the hill. Make it to the club. There's another queue, including several familiar faces from the MTR queue. It moves quite quickly and I think my luck is turning. But God is toying with me. The man in front of me wants to buy tickets to 4 events, check the seating, argue about the pricing (like the clerk can do anything about it) before changing his previous bookings. Finally I pay. Now I need to heed back down the hill to work. I double time it down the hill, jay-walking and avoiding cars/trucks/buses/trams with relative ease. My lunch is waiting. It's cold. I'm angry. I blog. I don't feel any better.

I'm telling you, Prince better put on the concert of his lifetime or there will be hell to pay.

I have rebooted my computer 5 times this morning at work. It looks to have stabilised now, about 2.5 hours after I got here. My job is the kind that cannot be done without computers. If I was in a philosophical mood, I would was lyrically how reliant we now are on these machines, on email to communicate and the like. It would lead to questions on whether progress had unacceptable costs, how email removes human interaction on one hand but enhances it on the other.

But I've got 30 minutes before my Cantonese lesson, which I have done no revision for, and we've banked up with all the work from this morning. So I'm in a bad mood and hate computers. Not in that order. Plus I'm off the see the purple Jehovah's Witness tonight and need to pick up the tickets. He'd better be good or there will be trouble at Tamar tonight.

Mrs M played in her tennis competition this morning. She plays with a group of fellow Disneyland inmates against various other taaitaais (married woman in Cantonese). They lost, although it was close. What is more interesting is the host team then has to put on a lunch for the visitors. Mrs M reports the other team was very pleasant company and good time was had by all.

Now if this was men, there would have been a couple of big differences. The winners would have heartily tucked into lunch, mentioning how yummy it all was and how good life was. In the meantime the losers would be mumbling how they had lost their appetite, and how they weren't really playing their best, how fierce the breeze had been, how that old ankle injury played up and how current world events distracted them for the entire match. The winners would again comment how delightful the arrangements were how and how good the losers would all look in dresses and make-up. The losers would now be staring glumly as the winners dined on what should be their lunch. The spiral would continue until it came time to leave, when there would be pleasantries like from the losers "Go to hell you bovine ingrates" and a sarcastic "Thanks ladies" from the winners.

I think this a clear example of a difference between men and women.

My little bro Paul is getting married at the end of the year. I've made a suggestion that the ceremony follow this pattern but was strangely knocked back. We've offered JC's skills to decorate, but again were knocked back. We will have the last laugh... as I think some of JC's work could be worth almost as much as the paper it is drawn on. Her "Elephant and Buzz Lightyear" is a perfect synthesis of everything modern and natural, a true abstract piece that makes you think about the nature of all things. Especially the nature of the textas, and whether they are water soluble.

This all leads to the point of this entry. Yes, there is one. I'd like to open the forum for ideas for the bucks night. I know that in America these nights are called bachelor nights and the word bucks raises sniggers. Nevertheless. We have plenty of ideas, but figure it would be interesting to see what (if anything) the blogosphere can generate. Paul reads this site (hi Paul) which makes it even better. Please relate your ideas, stories or whatever in the comments section. I reserve the right to use or ignore any part of it I like. And I'm not posting about my bucks night. I already know what I did. I want to see what else is out there.

What's in it for you? Not much. If we use an idea of yours we will post a direct email with a description of the night (or as much can be collectively recalled). Otherwise you will have the satisfaction of making a young man's entry to married life all that more interesting.

Mrs M and I are heading to Hong Kong Harbour Fest tomorrow night to see the first performance of the extravaganza. The whole thing is the HK Government's way of putting HK back on the map after SARS. To me it seems HK has got back to normal on its own, but wasting US$10 million on a bunch of musicians for the entertainment of an elite few seems to be the Government way to do it. Given the large number of visitors that have come through the office over the past two months and the number due in the next two months HK seems to nicely be making up for lost time (and business).

Mrs M and I are heading to see Prince, or whatever he calls himself these days. We are going to have to say no to the offer of a backstage pass though, as we don't want to be subjected to this: The pair said the singer, who is now a committed Jehovah's Witness, called at their home recently and tried to convert them from their Jewish faith.

We're prime targets.

China finally has sent a man into space and brought him back alive. Good achievement. Sure its 42 years after Yuri Gagarin and the Sepos did it. All the newspapers are full of adulation for the Chinese space program and how historic it is.

I have to say it is impressive, in a different way. To achieve this must have taken plenty of money and work. Sure there are some military applications, but none that I can think of that require a man in space rather than the already working and viable rockets the Chinese have been sending up for years. China has had plenty of economic growth and its Eastern coast is prosperous. But that leaves huge chunks of the countryside and slums of the big cities with plenty of poverty. It's treatment of AIDS is a disgrace (The Peking Duck has plenty on this). There are many different places where this money could have been better spent by the Chinese Government. Instead they choose to launch a space craft for the sake of national pride.

I cannot imagine the same hoopala for the first Chinese computer. Or the first Chinese radio. Or anything that has been first done somewhere else and then done by another country later. That's because being first is something; even being second is not bad if it was a close run thing. But third, 40 years late? Let's use another example. Who ran bronze in the 100 metres in the 1964 Olympics. Yes you can use Google and find the answer, the point is you don't know and you don't really care.

A horrific double murder tends to lead to reactions from politicians. No doubt the airwaves have been full of racism dressed as comment on how "these people" need to "fit in" to "our way of life" and this was all "unAustralian".

Bob Carr, Premier of NSW:

"My message is simple: Obey the law of Australia or ship out of Australia," he told reporters.

I thought we had a legal process and prisons for this. Don't see Mr. Carr saying all white collar crims need to "obey the law or ship out". Nor rapists, or "normal" murderers or any other crime. Of course the crime is reprehensible and I hope they catch the b@st@rds and put them away for good. But it is to jail they should go after a fair trial, nowhere else. That's what rule of law is about. Once you are a citizen of the country, it is not something you revoke short of treason. Do you want the Government deciding who should be an Australian citizen and who shouldn't? (I'm not looking for smart-@rse Poms to come in here and say that yes, that's a good idea).

Australia was founded by convicts who were "shipped out" of the UK instead of going to prison. Are we returning to the traditions of our earlier English overseers? Vitriol like this no doubt plays well in the sticks so I don't expect there will be much comment about this. In fact I am sure a lot of voters people agree with the Premier.

Pandering to prejudice. That's the kind of thing that will see "our civilisation dragged back to medieval standards", in Mr. Carr's words.

It is a most human characteristic to laugh at others' pain. Typically the Germans have a word for it: schadenfreude. It is not right, but that's why all those Funniest Home Video shows win massive TV ratings. Everyone loves seeing some poor schmuk copping it in the privates with a funny sound effect and canned laughter to boot.

Poor little JC has been in the wars. She's got an ear infection, conjunctivitis and she's not been her usual happy, Barbie-ific self. We dosed her up last night with the 32 medicines the doctor has given us, and she takes them all pretty well, even the ones without tonnes of sugar added. She woke at 2am a little unsettled but quickly went back to sleep.

Then at 4:30am I heard a loud thud. It was the unmistakeable sound of 2 year old head hitting parquetry flooring. Amazing I heard this first. Usually I'm waking up just as Mrs M is returning to bed after sorting out whatever crisis has arisen. So being the father that I am, I leapt from bed. I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking at all. Somehow I decided it was a good idea to turn our bedroom light on. Mrs M quickly persuaded me this was actually a bad idea. Off it went. Into the girls' room, where sure enough JC was on the floor and not happy. Returned her to bed, calmed her down and Mrs M administered another dose of medication. Soon she was asleep and Mrs M and I spent at least half-an-hour trying to get back to that marvelous place called slumberland.

Now this may brand me a bad parent, but I cannot help but smile at the thought of her falling out of bed. Sure she has a lump on her head to go with her other ailments. But I laugh out of sympathy for her plight, because she's doing it tough at the moment. It has only happened once before and it can't be easy as a 2 year old anyway. But I mostly laugh because the same has happened to me. Of course, I was 28 at the time but there are similarities. Mrs M and I were on holidays in Port Douglas. All I remember is waking up feeling the hard floor below me where previously there was comfortable matress. And I distinctly remember Mrs M laughing uncontrollably. She did ask how I was at one stage, before returning to her merry-making. I could not see the humour in the situation and my ego was more damaged than my body. But it makes me think this schadenfreude runs in the family.

JC's feeling better today so I don't feel as guilty. Maybe the bump helped.

They finally opened the longest bridge in the world outside work yesterday. Not the longest by length, it's maybe 30 metres long. Not the trickiest, it's a simple footbridge over a busy road. The longest by time taken for construction. I arrived in HK in February and the bridge was 3/4 complete. It has taken 8 months for them to put on a roof and put some slate on the ground. The idea of the bridge is to allow for the additional foot traffic for the massive new IFC building. IFC standing for Incredible F**king Colossus, being about 10 miles tall with 3,000 stories. They've even been kind enough to put a bulls-eye target on it in case you can't see it. Funniest of all is the building is mostly empty. The HK Monetary Authority (the Central Bank) bought the top 10 floors for some monstrous amount just before the property market crashed in 1997. They're subletting some of the space themselves because they don't need it all. Another good use of HK's reserves. But I digress. So they built this extra bridge for all the extra pedestrian traffic coming through. For those not familiar, much of HK is roadways with elevated footpaths. I think they got sick of the cars using the footpaths as an additional lane.

The opening of the bridge itself should have been a monumental affair. At a minimum some balloons, ticker tape and a ribbon-cutting ceremony. Instead they quietly removed the barricades and let people wander across. This is to cover their embarrassment at taking so long to get it open. It's a cover-up that I'm proud to expose. You heard it here first.

Anyway, it all got me wondering about the move to HK in the first place. You would think that deciding to pick up one's family, leave the place you were born and grew up, starting afresh after years of being comfortable and settled would be a momentous decision. Hours of deliberating, arguing, weighing pros and cons. The reality is it was nothing like that at all. I got told by work there was a chance to work offshore. I told my (then) boss it should be OK so long as the job was good and it was somewhere they don't like eating you and apologising later. A few weeks later I sat in an office with CF, my now boss and a fellow Aussie (well, via South Africa) and he offered me the job in HK. Went home and told Mrs M, who said should be OK, let's go check it out. We checked it out, it was OK. Back to Oz, said yes. A few months of back and forwards with contracts, settling everything, packing and preparing for the move and suddenly we were here. Looking back there were a couple of discussions with Mrs M, but the opportunity was too good and the tax rate is 1/3 of Australia's. Mixed reactions from the families and friends but it was pretty obvious to all that it was "a good thing".

That was it. Picked up Mrs M, JC, PB and Misti and changed hemispheres, language and culture. Occasionally it hits me, like last night when I stared across what's left of Victoria Harbour at the bright lights of Kowloon. I'm not at home any more. Or maybe I am in my new home. Mrs M always (rightly) corrects me whenever I say "home" meaning Australia, saying HK is now our home. I suppose that makes us citizens of the world, or maybe just confused.

Either way we're loving HK. JC and PB are right into things, with JC invited to birthday parties constantly (at least one every weekend), PB in two playgroups. Mrs M has met a good crowd of fellow Disneyland inmates, as well as others via the usual mafia connections. Plus she's playing tennis again and taking up bridge. As for me, the not-so-new job is good, the people I work with are good (I have to say that, they read this), the lifestyle is good and the city is good. We're removed from some of the day-to-day of family and friends back in Oz but that works out both good and bad. But most importantly the family are happy.

Did I mention the tax is 1/3 of home? That's good too.

Halloween is not a particularly big thing in Australia. It was only a few years ago before the first kids knocked on our door, and we were completely unprepared. We had to raid the secret lolly stash to satiate these kids. But in HK it seems to be a big deal. Supermarkets are festooned with various ghoulish adornments and pumpkins. I'm waiting to see if these Halloween sweets make it here. JC is getting excited about dressing up, probably as Barbie, which is scary in its own way.

The "tradition" at Disneyland is all the domestic helpers stand at the bottom of each tower with bags of lollies, and millions of little dressed-up kids walk with their bored parents from tower to tower collecting sugar-laced, over-commericalised syndicated lollies. The kids then spend 42 hours running in circles burning off the sugar rush, before it all ends in a massive headache and sick tummies. Only Americans could come up with such a festival.

Mrs M is the class parent for JC's class this year. This means she's responsible for organising the LK5 Halloween party. My suggestion they come to our flat and clean up my "Wardrobe of Horror" was surprisingly dismissed. I didn't even get to suggesting the second part of the "Afternoon of Terror" which was the "Scarifying Bathroom Mould Clean". Or the "Re-arrange the Tower of Toolboxes" in the "Utility Cupboard of Hell". Kids are too pampered these days.

Lastly a few bits:
* this is the kind of religious instruction that could be the major breakthrough to the younger generations.
* If women think some men have a commitment problem, this man waited to the very last minute. And I'll never again think the age gap with Mrs M is too big.

My homework as a member of the Alliance. Precision Guided Humour:

Q: What would you say if you had athe floor at a Jacques Chirac press conference?

A: Mr. Chirac, do you enjoy blending puppies? You are really Evil Glenn in (bad) disguise. No one has ever seen yourself and Evil Glenn in the same room at the same time. It all adds up. Where will it all end? Oh, the humanity.

The hamster is still there. It's just not right to have a photo of a pet hamster on your screen. I am looking for an HR policy where I can claim I am discriminated against or oppressed or something by this devil-eyed rodent staring at me. All I can find is "Diversity" manuals.

1) JC has come down with a combination of an ear infection and conjunctivitis. She is not a happy little girl. She is being dosed up with the appropriate medications. Her father is sitting at work with mixed emotions - she no doubt is not a lot of fun to be around, but on the other hand needs plenty of TLC. That's where Mrs M's charms come in handy. It means for the next few days we'll all be washing our hands every three seconds and no doubt still all come down with it as well.

It all got me thinking. JC goes to one of the most expensive schools on the planet, partly because it is literally two minutes walk from our door, and mostly because it is a darn fine school. Such places are a breeding ground for all sorts of maladies and diseases, all spread from little munchkin to little munchkin. So we're paying to expose JC (in time PB) to these diseases. And we don't even get refunds for the days off due to illness. Yes they use the masquerade of education, but I know what they are doing. They are experimenting with my little girl, and they are trying to bankrupt me at the same time. Evil, yet genius.

2) Mrs M and I were discussing the other day the topic of small talk. Idle chat. Mrs M's theory is men are better than women at making small talk. This often comes up because when you are doing the 3 year old birthday circuit (not as glamorous as the pro tennis circuit) one tends to find oneself making chit-chat with people. Usually you've met them a couple of times before, so you should know something about them and their lives. But in reality you've got little idea other than they also have a kid at the party and they too are scrapping around to remember your wife's name.

Men can usually find some point of commonality and chat about it: sports. Women are far more diverse and interesting, which is great if you know them, but difficult if they are getting to know each other for the first time. Even having kids in common isn't much given a wide variety of ages, gender and experiences. What is interesting is when a male meets another male who professes no interest in sport. Suddenly there is a chasm that needs to be quickly covered. This happened on Saturday night when we went for dinner with some friends from Disneyland. Luckily we found other points in common, but it was a mighty effort of concerntration to find those grounds.

So we've discovered why sports exist. It makes it easy for men to talk to each other at kid's birthday parties. You thought it was all about money and entertainment.

Sometimes Governments classify information for national security reasons. Or because releasing it publicly will put its spies at risk. Or cause a mass panic. This is in the panic category.

British nuclear weapons have been repeatedly dropped, struck by other weapons, and on one occasion carried on a truck that slid down a hill and toppled over

We're not talking about an oops, sorry, tripped and dropped the shopping. Nuclear friggin' weapons. I like this bit too:

Four of the incidents happened abroad, in Germany, Malta and near Hong Kong.

I flippin' live near Hong Kong. In it, actually. The rest of the article is just as scary. Take this:

the designs of Britain's early nuclear weapons, from the 1950s and 1960s, were unsafe and primitive, and that the MoD was "lucky" to have got away with not having more serious accidents, including nuclear explosions.

What really makes me pause for thought is there are the acknowledged nuclear powers: China, US, Russia, UK and France. Then there's the new nuclear powers, such as Israel, Pakistan, India, North Korea and Iran to name a few. So if the UK has had 20 accidents in 40 years, and being a first world country this can be taken a low estimate of what happens in each nuclear country...I think you get my drift. We shouldn't be worried about the nukes. We need to worry about the mechanics looking after these trucks.

My ongoing quest to get rich quickly and become a full time blogger is one step closer. In my inbox this morning:

Permit me to solicit your assistance on this transaction with you. My name is Hans Berger citizen of Germany, I am a staff of
Deutsche bank in germany. As one of the auditors of the bank, I happen to find out that there is an unclaimed fund of 19.4M. in one of our customer account for more than ten years and our banking law stipulates that any unclaimed fund for more than 12 years will go
into the bank revenue as an unclaimed fund. I and my colleagues have made our own personal inquiries about the depositor and the next of kin but sadly,the depositor and his entire family died in a plane crash in the year 1999. We solicit that you stand as the next of kin so that the money will be transfered to your account or any other account you may provide for us. We propose that the money be shared as follows 30% for you, 60% for my colleagues and I while 10% will be for any expences we may incure. I awaits your urgent reply while believing you do understan the confidential nature of this transaction.
Best Regards,
HANS BERGER.
Note:pls for the confidentiality of this transaction foward your reply to the below email address.
hansberger66@netscape.net

I'm never banking with "Deutsche bank in germany". They cannot spell. Their staff rip you off. The auditors are crooks. And they don't even tell you what currency they are scamming. Hang on, that sounds familiar.

In other interesting things, there is this reason for men to never go in the laundry.

I never understood why it is fun to celebrate weddings by shooting guns in the air. It can always have dangerous consequences.

Finally David Blaine's trick has reached it's logical conclusion: he has been Flashmobbed. This is where people get together for a brief, random act for no reason other than why not? In their own words:

This is a Flash Mob in its true spirit and is just for the sheer hell of it as opposed to making any particular political point about Blaine’s Stunt.

Pointless and funny. Much like this blog.

I love magic. Last night Mrs M and I watched David Blaine's Street Magic TV show. The man has the personality of a cereal box but he's a darn fine magician. Being an extremely slow day, I couldn't help myself. I hit Google with "David Blaine magic explained" and hit the second link.

I warn you now, if you like your magic to remain so, do NOT click on the following link; otherwise here's how he does it. It's up the top bar, under "Street Magic". Personally I admire the man more now I know how he does it, because while it all sounds easy reading it, I've got no doubt it takes years of practice to get it all right.

It's just a shame he's not much of a showman.

I've been spent a copy of a video of the infamous Sigfried and Roy tiger attack. Look carefully for the tiger.

Sydney is obsessed with real estate. The pinnacle is a place with a view. Well let me tell you about a place with a view and a half.

Paul Jackson, 33, opens his Melbourne real estate agency, Lunar Realty, tomorrow, offering one-acre blocks on the moon for $59 and 10-acre "lifestyle" blocks for $298.

You're all invited to my ranch. Please arrange your own transportation.

The weekend started with footy with the lads at the pub, and finished with me having a shower with a woman who was not my wife. And to cap it all off, I had two women in my bed this morning!

Friday night was the start of the Rogby World Cup. We decided it was appropriate to celebrate by joining other Aussies and a couple of English hangers-on at a small pub in Lang Kwai Fong called the Whiskey Priest. The upstairs section comfortable seats 40. There were at least 70 people there. The two people missing for most of the match were the bar staff, making drinks ordering interesting. Something like: "You may as well bring as many beers as you can carry." Australia won. Beer won. Everyone won.

Saturday was dreary but we took advantage of the brief lull to head to the Peak. There is a small outdoor playground where the girls had great fun trying to find new ways to hurt themselves. JC spied the famous "Chippies" sign (known otherwise as McDonald's'), so we headed up for an early lunch. Sitting outside on the terrace, we were quietly enjoying our deep fried meal. It gets quite windy up on the Peak, so a brief gust came through, lifted up the umbrella in the middle of the table, and clipped little PB on the chin. After making our feelings known to the management, all the other umbrellas were also taken down. PB got away with a small scratch and was soon happily munching down the rest of the chips. But a part of me wondered whether this was because of my famous Pret boycott, Maccas owning Pret and all. They bought us off with a few free vouchers but I'll be writing a letter to them this week.

Dropped the girls home for their daytime nap (schulffy time in the household vernacular). Then we had some emergency shopping to do. Not retail therapy. We have some friends who just headed back to Sydney to get married. They asked us to mind the fish. No worries. However the air pump didn't work, so those fish were looking like toilet fodder for sure. A quick trip down to Wan Chai and we found a replacement. Mrs M also started musing about adding to our pet collection by getting a fish tank. This way when we say let's go watch Finding Nemo we can sit JC in front of the tank instead. The quick shopping trip took about 2 hours, as it tends to do. We had to visit a stationary store so Mrs M could obtain the necessary plastic folders and files to re-order our records. I don't want to say she is fixated on this kind of thing, but she certainly knows more about filing than I ever will. I suspect this could be more a woman thing than a man thing. Men tend to be happy just to have assorted piles. Yet I maintain to this day I can find things under my system just as quickly if not more so than Mrs M, with her folders and the like. Sadly, we'll never know because I am too lazy to implement my system. Actually, Mrs M tends to take my system for mess (which it is) and cleans it up. Next we moved on to what can only be called a knick-knack everything mumbo-jumbo store. It had hardware, it had crockery, it had all sorts of things you never know you needed until you see them. Mrs M was in heaven.

Returned to find the girls awake so I offered to take them to the indoor playground. There were twelve adults in the room, and again I was the only parent. The girls had a ball as usual. That evening we headed to a restaurant in Stanley called Lucy's which does European style cooking. Suffice to say most of the clientele are expats. We went with a French couple who arrived in HK the same time we did and who have two kids similar ages to ours. I was busy checking their heads for horns and their tails, but all I could find were two very pleasant and enjoyable dinner companions. The words Iraq, Jacques Chirac and cheese-eating surrender monkeys never came up. Great meal was had by all.

Sunday marked the 1 year Bali anniversary. We had a friend in town from Sydney so we headed to the Conrad hotel to join him for brunch. JC decided she needed to go dressed as Barbie (photos to follow, Ma and Da), with the dress just a little long but otherwise she was a dead ringer. Except her hair is sandy brown and she has hazel/brown eyes. At the cafe we were again disappointed in our eternal quest to find a good Eggs Benedict (with crispy bacon instead of ham). This time the hollandaise sauce was burnt and the eggs overdone. Mrs M and I live simply to find a good EB. We rarely find a good one and have yet to find one in HK deserving of the name.

The afternoon we hit the indoor pool at Disneyland as the outdoor one is getting too cold for the girls (and their father). After an hour of swimming I took PB and Mrs M took JC. We hit the showers and PB enjoyed the experience, although I think she was a little confused as to where the water was coming from. So when I said at the start I had a shower with another woman, I was really talking about a 14 month old curly wonder. But I needed a tag line to get you reading this far. And there's more.

After the swimming we again hit the indoor playroom and JC found a friend to go crazy with for a while. After putting the girls to bed Mrs M and I had our traditional Sunday night dinner of Chicken Kiev and chips. We watched some TV (that David Blaine is a good magician, but has the personality of a washing machine).

Now I have the day off today. JC decided to wake at 5:30am and in order to avoid her waking PB too we took her into our bed. So there's my two women in the bed trick. Took JC to school while Mrs M is down at Disneyland tennis courts wacking the ball with the meanest double-handed backhand I've ever seen. We have already started tussling for JC's sporting affection, with Mrs M showing her the tennis racquet and courts, and me pointing out the squash courts everytime we pass them.

She'll be a tennis player for sure.

Helen commented that should like someone to explain cricket for dummies, by which I assume she means Americans. With JC and PB firmly ensconced in front of the Teletubbies I will waste valuable weekends minutes doing just that.

Cricket is God's gift to mankind. Much like I am God's gift to womankind in a different kind of way. It is one of the most widely supported sports in the world with most ex-British colonies (strangely excluding Canada) playing at top level; that puts it total supporter base at over a billion people. I made that up number up, but in the sub-contineny they are mad about it.

Cricket is Australia's only national sport. Every male over the age of 3 is taught to play at school, in the backyard, on the beach or wherever else and appropriate space can be found. Not to discriminate but many females also participate, and not just getting the salads ready for the boys when they are finished.

To the rules. Before I get into it I will omit many details that are not necessary for a basic understanding, but like all games there are many rules and tactics to get into.

Two teams of eleven. Each team has an extra (twealth) man, who can only replace a player injured during the game and is limited in what duties he can perform (I am going to use he because all this Political Correctness he/she cr@p is too much). There are two main versions of the game: Test matches and One-Day matches. Test cricket is the pinnacle of the game, with currently ten nations of Test status (Australia, New Zealand, England, Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Sri Lanka and West Indies). These games take a maximum of 5 days, with each team having two innings. If there is no result at the end of 5 days it is a draw. A One Day game each team has only one innings, limited to 50 overs (more later) and there is always a result.

The game is played on an oval, with a pitch of 22 yards in the middle. At each end of the pitch is a wicket, a combination of three stumps with two bails sitting atop. There is a batter at each end of the pitch. One will be facing the bowler, the other waits at the bowler's end making disparging remarks about the fielding team and their habits (this is called sledging). The bowler has a certain line he cannot overstep, otherwise it is a no-ball and the batting team get a run (and an extra ball). Bowlers must not bend their arm during their deliver and the arm must go over shoulder height. The idea is to get the most runs. There are several other ways to get runs: by hitting the ball and running between the wickets; by hitting the ball to the boundary (4 runs); hitting it over the boundary without a bounce (6 runs); or through "extras" like the no-ball I just mentioned.

Each bowler has 6 balls in an over. Once an over is bowled, another bowler starts from the opposite end for 6 balls, and so on. There is always a wicket-keeper, who stand behind the wicket opposite to the bowler, in case the batter misses it. The other 9 players are called fieldsmen, and are placed around the oval in important but not fixed positions.

A batsman can be out in a few ways. If the ball hits his wicket (and knocks the bails off, which tends to happen when the ball is going at 100 miles an hour) he is out. If his leg (or any other part of his body) is line with the wickets (also called stumps) and the ball has not touched his bat he can be out LBW (leg before wicket, duh). This is adjudicated by an umpire, who stands at the bowler's wicket. A batsman is out if he hits a catch; or if he runs and the fielding team get the ball to hit the wicket before he has safely made his ground. A bat tends to be 3 foot long by several inches wide, which is limited by the rules.

That's it. It is really that easy. The best is to watch a few games; I would start with a One Day game if you can because that's quicker and more exciting.

Any quesitons or queries can be answered via the comments. Hope this helps some of the less enlightened to appreciate the beauty that is cricket. It is nothing like Baseball.

And Australia are the world champions. In both forms of the game.

Creative sentencing is making a come-back, at least in Turkey. I can see it now - "Those books could teach me something, noooooooooooo!" The best part is the little problem with the ruling:

"There is a problem with going to the library on Mondays as ordered by the sentence," the father told Anadolu.

"All of the libraries in the province and in our town are closed on Mondays."

I know sometimes I feel old, and going to work is the last thing I want to do. Then I think about the blissful day I will retire. But it turns out you are never too old for some professions.

There's some old saying about keeping your enemies close and your friends even closer. However there are times you don't want to get too close. It's always sad when someone is so delusional they cannot differentiate between film and reality.

Lastly next week should mark China's first manned space flight: It should be a good one:

...with one official newspaper saying the craft would orbit Earth 14 times and another highlighting plans for a music video to accompany the launch.

NASA never thought of a music video to go with their launches. Imagine the ratings for a Britney Spears live from Cape Canaverall. With some luck the engines would drown out the sound.

It is hard to describe to those who don't follow cricket the enormity of the following achievement. Cricket is a statistics/records obsessed sport. There are websites dedicated to all manner of records. But today Matthew Hayden has broken the biggest. He has just scored the most runs ever in a Test match. Ever. This is the 1,661st Test match, having been played for well over 100 years. This man has now batted for 10 hours over two days, with temperatures over 30 Celcius (I think that's about 1000 degrees Farenheit).

Here is the list as it stands:

380 ML Hayden Australia v Zimbabwe at WACA, 1st Test 2003 [1661]
375 BC Lara West Indies v England at St John's, 5th Test, 1993/94 [1259]
365* GS Sobers West Indies v Pakistan at Kingston, 3rd Test, 1957/58 [450]
364 L Hutton England v Australia at The Oval, 5th Test, 1938 [266]
340 ST Jayasuriya Sri Lanka v India at Colombo (RPS), 1st Test, 1997/98
[1374]
337 Hanif Mohammad Pakistan v West Indies at Bridgetown, 1st Test, 1957/58
[446]
336* WR Hammond England v New Zealand at Auckland, 2nd Test, 1932/33 [226]
334* MA Taylor Australia v Pakistan at Peshawar, 2nd Test, 1998/99 [1426]
334 DG Bradman Australia v England at Leeds, 3rd Test, 1930 [196]

Now admittedly the opposition is weak. They are 9th out of the 10 Test playing nations in rankings and have been playing Test cricket only since 1992. But the record is an enormous achievement by any measure. To maintain one's concerntration, for every single ball, all 437 of them. For 620 minutes. A great innings; there will be plenty of newspaper ink split over this one but all you need to know is it is an almighty effort by a great player.

And he's Australian. Go Aussie, go!

Thanks to Conrad for this important medical news. "Honey, we have to for my health's sake."

Just back from a great dim sum lunch at City Hall. We started early because by midday the place is full. We piled high early with sticky pork buns, hau gau (prawn dumplings) and so on. Had the 15 minute halftime pause, then a little more, and now are all feeling horribly stuffed. But we did resolve to watch the Rugby in LKF, given the variety of bars should be able to see one TV screen.

Matt Hayden is sitting at 308 n.o. in the cricket. As yesterday was horrible today is turning into paradise. Hayden for President.

Just thinking a little more about the anniversary of the Bali bombing on Sunday. I would be very interested to know how many Americans are aware of the event, either the original or the anniversary. For example, will the New York Times will have some article, buried somewhere deep in the World section, mentioning it? If so they no doubt will pick up a wire story and run it unchanged. I just ran "bali bombing anniversary" in Google and found 2 US news references in the first 5 pages.

This annoys me. Sep 11 was a devastating event in the US and the world. George W said either you are with us or against us. Australia is with them. Likewise in Iraq a few nations joined the 'coalition of the willing', including Australia. Yet the Americans I have spoken with seem only distantly aware of Bali and that's partly because they work with Aussies. I know it is not a scientific sample. But I cannot help but feel that sometimes our American friends forget that terror is not always directed against them alone. They are not alone in the fight and they are not alone in the suffering.

Regardless of your view of John Howard, he's doing a fine job in representing the country at this time. He is visiting Bali for the commemoration despite the snubbing of himself (and by proxy, the nation) by Indonesian President Megawati, who seems to think it best to stay well away: Mrs Megawati had no plan to attend the events. Many Indonesians were murdered too and their President is too busy for the whole week to visit. Cultural excuses of avoiding confrontation and bad memories don't cut it here. She is the symbol of her nation and her nation is also trying to ignore the event. Our job is to never let the world forget.

I just removed the quite amusing men's advice post. Simply because a few people weren't able to get to the site anymore because of firewalls etc. It was funny, but it would be cruel to deprive people of my wit and savvy comments just because of one slightly misogynistic posting.

On to more important things. This Sunday marks the one year anniversary of the Bali bombing. This was as close as terrorism has come to Australia and it has affected the country deeply. This is largely because we realised that our distance was no longer a protection from the harsh realilities of the world. There has been more general support for the war against terror and Iraq than would have been the case should Bali have not happened. Here is one first hand account that I highly recommend a look. 88 Australians died in a premeditated mass murder. 112 others were also murdered including many Indonesians.

I have been twice to Bali. The people are friendly and open. The place itself is a mix of first world resorts and third world slums, with markets and hawkers; plenty of fakes and bars; beautiful mountainside and beaches; a Hindu state within the world's largest Muslim country. Each of our holidays there have been memorable and enjoyable and it breaks my heart that terror could touch such a place. Please spend a minute on Sunday remembering why there needs to be a war on terror.

That said, it is time to focus on the here and now. And that means two things: cricket and rugby. The excitement is huge, especially as it is a holiday in Taiwan today and in Japan and the US on Monday. The lads from work are all heading to some place to watch the game tonight, Australia vs. Argentina. I have created a crude Aussie flag (albeit in black and white) that flies proudly above my PC. Go Aussie! I cancelled my Cantonese lesson because I cannot concerntrate on anything else. Except lunch, which hopefully will be a visit to City Hall Dim Sum, the best in HK. Food and footy....there's only one f missing.

One thing that I love about HK is the TV. At first I thought it was cr@pola, but once you spend some time here you learn to appreciate it. I cannot help but laugh everytime I see an advertisement for ER, with Geroge Clooney speaking Cantonese. He's even got a local accent. I tend to think something gets lost if you cannot hear the actors speaking in the original language of the show. The same applies to movies - there's no point watching a French movie dubbed into English and if you are too stupid to read the subtitles then don't watch it. It leads me to my next thing, which is HK newspapers. On the train yesterday I rubber-necked one of the local rags. They are not afraid of showing the most graphic photos possible of a bus crash/murder/bomb or whatever explicit violent pictures are going. Not for the squeamish.

JC and PB took turns last night. Turns at calling out. I remember 2:12am, but that was already the third time, and there were three more after that. Suddenly the sleeping in the same room idea doesn't seem so good. And PB is only on one sleep now, so she's pretty crabby most of the morning, because she's tired. But there's no reasoning with a 1 year old.

Lastly it seems David Blaine has been tipped off that Arnie has taken away his novelty crown. Suddenly starved of the publicity oxygen that has kept him going through his pointless stunt, he's taken to talking to people. Such an outrageous attempt to hijack Arnie's celebrations is despicable and this blog will not acknowledge it.

Did I mention Go Aussie Go?

Sometimes Hong Kong gives me the sh!ts.

The cricket has started, with Australia playing Zimbabwe in Perth - the time zones are in line. It should be perfect. The start of the cricket season (Rugby World Cup notwithstanding) stirs something deep in the Australian male psyche. It brings about feelings of BBQs, beer, discussions on team selections and tactics, poor imitations of commentators, recounting of useless stats and records about to be broken. It heralds the start of the Aussie summer. It is the one sport the unites the nation. More Australians know Steve Waugh is the captain of the cricket team than know who George W. Bush is. But unless you pay about $3000 a month to the cable channel you cannot watch it. And of course the internet is slow. Damn you, Cable TV HK.

This morning I decided to head back to Mongkok; work was slow and I had to pick up plus exchange something. Got on the train, got out there all in about 15 minutes. Went and exchanged the Chinese camera manuals for English ones without a hitch. But the man I needed to meet to pick up from wasn't there. I called his mobile, only to get a Cantonese message to leave a voicemail. I tried his second mobile number. Nothing. I walked to the building his shop is in. Nothing. I rang again. I tried the second mobile again - finally a person. It was a she, rather than a he, but it was someone.

Me: "Where are you?"
Her: (sounding groggy) "Shop not open."
Me: "I was told it opens at 11am."
Her: "Not in Mongkok. Shop opens at 1pm."
Me: "Where are you now?"
Her: "Not in Mongkok." (click)

Suddenly I was angry. It was hot. It was the middle of the working day. I was looking forward to picking up my goodies. The shop wasn't open. And there was nothing I could do. I marched back to the MTR, slowly composing this rant in my mind. And staring daggers at the world.

Now what gives? It was midday. I don't know much about small business, but I think that by midday you should have had a reasonable shot of opening up for the day. For God's sake, the day is half over. Most things in HK start late, which is already tricky if you have two girls who enjoy starting the day at 6am. But by 10am most things are starting. Sure they are open late, but that doesn't matter much to parents. I start work before 8am; is it so much to ask for stores to open within 4 hours of that?

All this venting is useless, of course. Will it bring my goodies to me? No. Will I single handedly change Hong Kong's business hours? No. Do I feel better for this little rant? No. There's a nasty phone call happening in the next hour - if you hear some poor bastard on the receiving end of a loud mobile call, you'll know why.

And if anyone is heading to Mongkok in the next couple of days, can you let me know. I have a few things I need picked up.

UPDATE: I ventured back this afternoon - it seems to be hot in Mongkok, hot like the gates of hell hot. And it's a weekday so it's only overcrowded, rather than bone-crushing. The guy was there this time. Had my watches. Took 30 minutes to adjust one. The other turns out to not be what I ordered. Some days just aren't meant to be.

Firstly, JC's birthday present plans have gone out the window.

Britain's RSPCA is urging fans of the recent Disney movie 'Finding Nemo', which tells the story of a young clown anemonefish taken from the wild, not to follow the US trend and buy a clown fish as a pet.

Next scientists have discovered what men have known for a long time.

Astronomers studying radiation left over from the dawn of time believe the cosmos is the shape of a football.

My last Arnie comment is this: betting against the US constitution is not a good bet.

For some reason I now really want to visit Shanghai.

I've mentioned before how Australia will soon make Denmark a colony. All is going to plan...bhuwahahahaha.

Lastly, although this is about 3 years old, it's a great story.

"He was absolutely shattered - we put him back in his cage and he slept for two days."

I never thought I would envy a guinea pig, especially one named Sooty.

Arnie has won. The phone rings in the Schwarzenegger suite at the hotel.

a:"Heellllo?" (insert drunken slurred Austrian accent here)
g:"Arnold. It's George."
a:"Do I know you? Was that you wife I gro..."
g:"George W."
a:"Oh, that George."
g:"Just ringing to say congratulations on your victory. Great, just great. You managed to get Iraq off the front page for weeks."
a:"No problem. Hang on, Mr. President. Bring that one back. The blonde one. She needs another gro.."
g:"Arnold. May I call you Arnold? I have another reason for ringing."
a:"Mr. President, don't belive those files. Everyone was a Nazi in those days."
g:"Shut up and listen you idiot. I have a proposition for you."
a:"Are you coming onto me? I don't do white men."
g:"No. I think the 'roids might have played with your manhood anyway. But listen, next year there's a Presidential election. I'm in trouble: Iraq isn't panning out, the deficit is out of control and the economy is sputtering. I think you can help."
a:"Yeah. I'm listening."
g:"Now Dick Cheney's heart ain't so good, and he's regretting quitting the private sector. So I need a VP candidate."
a:"I know where you're going. You want me to knock Cheney off?"
g:"No, I'll go slower. I want you to run for VP with me. I'm going to send you into Iraq early next year. You can take as many Hollywood stunt people and special effects as you need. Find Sadaam and those WMD. Convince everyone. Make it up if you have to. Just drag it out for a couple of months to take everyone's mind off the real world for a while. Then let's have a spectacular finale. Lots of explosions We'll interupt a Presidential address to the nation for it."
a:"Mr P., have you been drinking? Did someone put you up to this?"
g:"Not as much as I should. Your uncle Teddy Kennedy suggested it."
a:"I'll be back...to you Mr. P."

Extroverted, Sensing, Thinking and Judging. That's what the computer says I am.

ESTJ - "Administrator". Much in touch with the external environment. Very responsible. Pillar of strength. 13% of the total population.

Take Free Myers-Briggs Personality Test

Thankfully this whole California election is coming to an end. Amongst all the allegations of sleaze about Arnie, I have one question. How is it this woman who stood in for the then 13-year-old actor Edward Furlong during filming of Terminator 2 could get away with looking like a 13 year old boy? I know they used a lot of computer graphics in that movie but I thought it was for the special effects.

While on shonks and charlatans it turns out an illusionist's attempt to trick British television audiences into thinking he had played Russian roulette with a loaded pistol backfired today when police said the weapon had contained only a blank round. Let's not get entertainment confused with psychic powers.

It turns out the Sapranos is not as far-fetched as it sometimes seems. Double-decker coffins - it would solve the problem of overcrowded cemetaries.

The crisis of the ship containing 50,000 Australian sheep in the Persian Gulf has been solved. The ship has been redirected to New Zealand and renamed "The Love Boat".

Finally this has had me laughing all morning. After filling our Mumbai office's order we got this reply:

thank you .Could not reply yesterday as ass was on fire.

As Charles pointed out, it could have been the vindaloo.

5:30am is a special time of morning that Mrs M and I usually choose to sleep through. Seeing the sun rise over the park we look over is great, but seeing the back of my eyelids is even better. So imagine the joy and happiness this morning when PB decided 5:30am was a great time to announce she was awake. Instantly JC was awake too and that was it. Hense it is now about 9am and feels like the middle of the afternoon. At times like this you think about the whole point of children. I was going to shut them up by telling them the story of their respective births, until I came across this story. I realised they were well off compared to some.

"I was going from the toilet to my chair and ended up on the floor," she said. "Then I heard these gurgling noises."

"I noticed in the toilet, there was something in there," he said. "I said, 'Oh my God! There's a baby in there! I can't believe it!"

A hosptial seems so clinical and hygenic in comparison. Even in this case it seems amazing that it never occured to anyone that the rapid exapnsion in her stomach size was not due to the Atkins diet going wrong. The poor kid is in line a big shock when he gets told the story of his birth.

Even more unusual while waiting for the Disneyland bus this morning I noticed something in the lobby of the hotel across the road. With a couple of minutes to spare (mostly because I missed the earlier bus) I wandered across and was staring at a Formula 1 McLaren. No reason why it should be there, but it just is. This is the same hotel that has a priceless art collection including a Monet and museum quality Chinese artwork.

Just applied for another credit card over the net. Hong Kong is great. You can pay your tax via credit card. Link it to an air miles program and you can pay your tax and at least get some frequent flyer points out of it. They even try and make paying tax less odious.

Finally, I went to the shop last night, and I was in there for about 5 minutes. When I came out there was a police officer writing a parking ticket. I went up to him and begged, "Come on, please, how about giving a man a break?" He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. So I called him a biro-sucking d**khead. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for worn tyres on the hunk of junk. So I called him a piece of horse manure. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windscreen with the first.

Then he started writing a third ticket! This went on for about 20
minutes...The more I abused him, the more infringement notices he
wrote.

I didn't care. My car was parked around the corner.

I have been truly touched by some of the visitors to this humble blog. The GuestMap on the top right of this blog has comments from right across the world. Feel free to join in.

Being CF's first day back from 3 weeks of junket work trip and holiday we needed to injest some quality HK noodles. And rice. So we wandered through the hordes of Central to our particular hole in the wall noddle shop. This is quite unusual for us; a typical day we order lunch in and some poor person (HK is egalitarian in this regard, it could be male or female) has to schlepp our six boxes of whatever through the pollution and humidity to our air conditioned eyrie. But today we were running late (that being 12:20pm) so ordering was out the question. Now co-incidently enough the noodle place is next door to one of our favourite electronics stores. And there was a 5 minute wait for the noodles. So I bought a VCR and DVD player. Also had my eye on a plasma TV, but the new LCD TVs look like they'll be the go in a year or two so I might have to curb my toy envy for a little while. HK is a boy's dream when it comes to electronic toys. Even the Chinese brands are quickly improving, and at a significantly lower price to the "recognised" brands.

So a typical HK lunch. Some noodles, a VCR and a DVD player. Yum.

Made it through the fasting for Yom Kippur. Got a bit thirsty in the afternoon, and it wasn't easy watching JC plough through a pizza for lunch, but otherwise no problem. The best part was the big dinner on offer at the end of the service at the Jewish Club. A huge buffet with various salads, meats, drinks and deserts. Despite hundreds of hungry Jews doing their best we couldn't even put a dent into the massive pile of food. We tried though. Funnily enough the lift got stuck with some friends in there, luckily after everyone had eaten, so we spent 15 minutes standing around being useless until a fireman came along and with a quick flick of a key opened the doors. A drama filled day. The service itself was good (as far as these things go) with a good quality choir and reasonable turnout.

The thing about spending 25 hours without food and water is it is not as hard as it sounds. There are a few tricks, like not drinking alcohol the day before and avoiding chili and salt for your last dinner. But otherwise it is actually quite easy. I wouldn't say fun, but quite easy. That said that first sip of Coke is heavenly.

JC and PB got a new dollhouse that someone in Disneyland was getting rid of. JC hasn't left it yet but she is getting much better at sharing with little PB. She even gave PB some pizza yesterday, a big sacrifice for a 2 year old. We fear PB may be starting to teeth again, which means a week or so of a not so happy 1 year old. I think of it as good practice for when all the girls hit puberty.

More exciting still is the girls are now in one bedroom. They slept together while the in-laws were here and it went well enough that we decided to leave them their. PB's name has even been added to the door. It's great - they actually spend much of the time laughing at each other.

The scary thing I realised this morning is it has taken until I've had kids to realise what my parnets went through. Not in a bad way at all. Just when Ma used to ask my brother and me how our day was, I used to think it a lame question worthy of a one word answer. Now I appreciate how captivating it is for a parent to hear about the day, the triumphs, the tragedies and everything in between. That said next time I speak to Ma (hi Ma) I'm likely to still respond with a one word answer. Mostly because the grandchildren are that much more interesting.

Finally my Hong Kong thought for the day. Hong Kong has no postcodes. Yet all mail seems to arrive the next day at the very latest. If you ever thought HK to be a place of freedom, this should make you think again. How do they know where you are without postcodes? Ever tower in Hong Kong is called Harbour View Mansions or some such innocuous name. Big Brother is here.

Spent the morning yesterday swimming, but the water is getting colder. There is something about kids swimming though...JC spent two hours in the water, even though by the end her lips were blue and she was shiverring. The only way to get her out was to offer her lunch.

Yesterday afternoon we ventured with my in-laws to the Dark Side (Kowloon). Took the MTR to Mong Kok. My in-laws, being from Australia, were not used to trains in Hong Kong. There are no rules about waiting for passengers to alight; using elbows is de regeuir. Nevertheless they were with us and we knew the way of things here, so we used my father-in-laws 6 foot plus bulk to bludgeon our way in.

Exited the station and found ourselves in the heart of the Ladies' market. It was packed, yesterday being a holiday in HK as well as peak tourist season due to a week long holiday on the mainland. My two lessons of Cantonese mean I have an ear for the local language rather than Mandarin. I have no doubt many locals still look down on Mandarin speakers as poor cousins from the third world mainland. Yet the cash these "peasants" were flashing around show the balance is changing. The market goes for blocks, with large stalls and 3 feet of walking space, with several people at any one time trying to move in opposite directions. Plus those trying to get in and out of stalls. Like many of the street stalls, there were fakes a plenty. Louis Voutin handbags, Rolex watches etc. I picked up some Versace business shirts (100% cotton my arse; if I get those near a naked flame they'll be picking it off my skin for weeks); Mrs M had a good dodgy watch man from whom my father-in-law and I bought 3 watches. I had printouts from the websites and let me tell you these were indistinguishable from the real thing. In-laws bought a digital camera and so on. There are several markets in the area, with one street for electronics, another for fashion and watches, and another for sporting goods.

Like all men once I had purchased what I wanted I had enough and wanted to go. Three hours later, we did. Headed back to the Island where we had dinner at a place called Ye Shanghai. Good Shanghai-ese food, but we knew we were in trouble when the waiter told us the band would start at 9:30pm. Sure enough, they did. They were tolerable for the first couple of bland ballads, but when the lead singer and her man in the band started a duet of Eric Clapton's "You're wonderful" we all knew it was time for the bill.

JC decided to wake at 5:45am this morning. She wasn't popular. Spent a quiet morning contemplating my brother's footy team and their Grand Final today. I wish them luck, mostly because my bro will be inconsolable for about 6 months if they lose. We've now watched Nemo the obligatory twice this morning so we are heading for another Artic swim. And to take our mind off why things like this will never happen to us.

John Edward is on Larry King of the Paranormal on CNN, and its a little slow so we're watching it. Now I don't believe in the whole psychic thing. This guy really gets me and so do all those like him. This is one of two things that Mrs M and I cannot agree on at all. All I can offer is articles like this one to refute the belief in this guy. There's also more articles here on him. And here's one for the road.

These articles focus on him in particular but the tricks are universally used by all "psychics". It's a shame that people can make money by preying on other's grief.

The last word needs to go to James Randi:

People not only want it to be true, they need it to be true. It's the feel good syndrome. Everyone wants to be reassured about loved ones who have passed. Just once I want to find a spiritualist who says, 'Oh, well, sorry. She went to hell and I can't reach her.'

Likely to be a quiet weekend on the blog front, and probably none at all on Monday. This Sunday night marks the start of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement in Judaism. This means from sunset Sunday night to sunset Monday night there will be no food or drink (no, not even water) passing my lips, nor that of every Jew on the planet. Sunday night is called Kol Nidre and is the biggest night on the Jewish religious calendar. There are plenty like me who are not particularly observant yet this and Rosh HaShannah last week are the two dates people make an effort. The idea is to repent, but also make resolutions of the year ahead.

My motto for the year is going to be: "If Arnie can become Governor, anything is possible."

The approach of the Rugby World Cup to Australia will have many benefits. The economy is set to get a lift from the huge impact of such a widely followed event, second only to the Olympics. This includes the vice industry.

...rugby union's English public school heritage meant demand for bondage and domination services was likely to skyrocket.

"If you look at where the game came from, the English public schools, they're very much into correction and all that.

I'm upset Australia has to import talent to service these needs. Surely there's enough home grown workers who can compete with the world's best on such a stage. If not, then it is time the industry and Government started working on a youth program so such an outrage will not happen again. Let's get into the schools, let's get an elite academy where we can train our raw material into top class performers. Please help - I am happy to lend a hand anyway I can.

Firstly a word of warning. If you are going to smuggle talcum powder make sure you clear it with the authorities first.

Big night for Australia last night. Firstly it seems we've claimed Lenny Kravitz as one of our own. I predict this romance could even last the cricket season - I'd love to see Lenny at the SCG with a beer in hand telling all how Steve Waugh is past his used-by date.

Even better, Australia has claimed its second Nobel Prize for Literature. Well, he lives in Adelaide so it sort of counts. He joins Patrick White, who won in the year I was born. There's some kind of link there.

Which leads me to my next question. Is there a Nobel Prize for Blogs?

Went with the in-laws and Mrs M to the China Club for dinner last night. This is a recreation of an old colonial style dining room, but with an eclectic mix of colonial and Chinese styles. What was once the most imposing building in Hong Kong is now dwarfed by the temples of Mammon around it. The food was a good mix of various Chinese regions and we ate more than our fill. We climbed the stairs to the rooftop terrace. Along the stairwell are various artworks. My parents-in-law are Hungarians who left the country after the 1956 uprising. Needless to say their opinion of Communists is not glowing. My father-in-law pointed out the many paintings that had Mao featuring in them. His comment was, "Don't they realise he was as bad as Lenin?" All I could answer was it was a mixture of chic and patriotism but it seemed a pretty lame answer then and worse now in the light of day. It is a reminder that while China is making much economic progress there are other elements stuck in a time warp.

On a lighter note, I went for a haircut yesterday. Not very interesting. But previously I had been going to one of the salons in the mall next to work, where a haircut cost about a week's wages. You get the works but it is still a shock to get a bill for HK$400 (about US$50). So I tried a local place yesterday. Walked up the stairwell, down the hall, pushed the slightly ajar door open. A small barber greeted me. I asked the price. It was HK$85. I sat down. Not a single word was uttered for the rest of the time. He didn't ask me what kind of cut I wanted. He didn't want to chat about my work, the weather, the news. He finished and it was a pretty good job. It might not have been quite as good as the $400 cut, but for the difference I can manage. Another reminder of the two very different worlds that exist in HK.

I am not making this up. Being in an open plan office everyone's computer screen is open for viewing. Usually screens have a mix of work related stuff, with a website or two lurking in a small corner. Often people have their own photos on the desktops, usually showing family and/or pets. I, for example, have a shot of myself, Mrs M, JC and PB taken poolside at Disneyland. I like to think of it as a warning for people to stay from me. It doesn't work.

But the reason for the post was the one I walk past on the way to the bathroom. This is often because we have a free vending machine so I manage to plow through litres of water and Diet Coke all day. I figure the DC cleanses the system and the water makes up 110% of my body so I should top it up.

This lady has a photo of her pet hamster on her screen. A close-up photo. The hamster has red-eye. It has its claws (instinctively all people check pet hamsters for their claws). It is on her screen, looking back at her all day. All day. That unrelenting, red stare.

My brother had a pet mouse once. My Ma quite reasonably demanded it live in the garage as she didn't want vermin in the house (well, except her two boys I suppose). My brother was about 12. He named her Magenta. She was out of sight, so she was out of mind. She eventually become at one with nature and was buried next to a camellia bush, which was then concreted over when the new owners of the house built a Greek palazzo on the site. She was never replaced.

That hamster is bringing those memories back. I love animals, our dog Misti is the best, but I draw the line at vermin.

I often think Miranda Devine is the Sydney Morning Herald's token right winger. However today's article on the vist to Australia of Bjorn Lomborg is worth a read. I've got a link to Lomborg on the right here. His book the Skeptical Environmentalist is interesting as a response to what he calls the green "litany". The part I find most disturbing is the vitriol his critics attack him with. I do fear they do protest too much, to mangle some Shakespeare.

The reality is Lomborg is not likely to be 100% correct in everything, much like his critics are not likely to be correct in many of their claims either. But the disasters forecast in the 60s and 70s for the environment have not happened, although they have had the benefit of making the world aware there are issues. The green "litany" involves an appeal to guilt that most in the West have. The idea is the West is prosperous, prosperity must come at a cost and that cost is unsustainable. This is not the case at all. The world is a significantly better place now than it has ever been on many measures, especially if one looks at the living conditions of most humans on the planet.

I could go on about all of this but there are better people at this than me. Bjorn Lomborg is one of them. His book is worth a read, even if it is heavy on stats. That's part of the joy though because he uses the same stats as the green movement to disprove many of their claims.

The main idea is these issues need sensible debate, not hyperbole and shrill emotional claims. That will be real progress for the world and the environment.

From the always interesting Gweilo Diaries there is this Chinese dating advice.

Then there's this on the dumbing down of UK education standards. I'd be surprised if any six year old would fail this exam.

This guy is going to miss out on another useless world record on a technicality.

Finally we've had some very special guests sign the Guestmap on the top right corner. Feel free to join in.

Yesterday was National Day, a celebration of China and all things Communist, including the takeover of HK. It is celebrated with an influx of mainland tourists looking to spend their hard earned yuan. After working for the afternoon I got on the bus back to Disneyland and was amazed as we swept along without any traffic to impede us. No hair raising cutting across lanes crowded with trucks. No last minute swerves to get into the right lane. It was almost pleasant.

Once JC and PB were bathed and in bed we headed over to a fellow inmates' flat with a great view of the fireworks. Yes they are French and yes they are lovely people. That might stun some, but I certainly couldn't see the pitchfork, horns and cloven hoofs. The fireworks were OK but not a patch on the New Year's Eve fireworks on Sydney Harbour.

While on fireworks, it turns out China is getting ready to send men into space in the next couple of weeks, only thirty years after everyone else stopped. Their inspiration comes from way back. From the unlinkable (and mostly unreadable) South China Morning Post:

Ming dynasty inventor Wan Hu was not afraid of being a pioneer. The scholar-carpenter turned engineer dreamed of flying into space at a time when most of mankind were still learning how to build horse-drawn carriages.

Wan strapped 47 large gun-powder rockets to his chair and, holding a large kite in each hand, launched himself skyward in the middle of the 14th Century. He disappeared from sight, and was never seen again.

Sometimes being first doesn't pay off. He probably blasted himself into the middle of another century.

Finally I walked past Pret a Manger today, and while spitting towards their general direction I noticed the window still displays the word "Sushi" as part of their offerings. It took all my self-restraint to not throw my squash racquet through the window.

Being in a bank we often get lists of rules and regulations we need to follow. This one came from our legal department, detailing what personal events you need to notify the Securities and Futures Commission (SFC) in HK about:

Any changes to the following personal “basic information” that you provided to the SFC when applying for your license:
 Title and full personal name and surname in Chinese and English;
 Gender;
 Chinese commercial code and the number on your HK identity card or (if no HK identity card held) the number, name of the issuing agency and the date of expiry of your passport;
 Nationality;
 Business, residential and correspondence address; and
 Contact telephone and facsimile numbers and electronic mail address.

Did you spot it too? Gender. They want to know if you change your gender. As if the trip to Stockholm for the operation wasn't enough.

Some other funnies courtesy of Dilbert. These are to say to those who only listen to the first half of what you say:

"You're not out of shape... because technically a circle is a shape."

"I can tell that you're a renaissance man... and by that I mean a sissy."

Finally this:

A noted Czech orchestral composer has revealed a secret to his success: the ability to hear mushrooms sing.

I wonder if eating them also plays a part in his composing?

I've got a quiet few minutes. PB is in bed, JC is watching Nemo (surprise) with her Grandma, Grandpa is off for a shower, Mrs M is busy thawking tennis balls at an almighty pace, and I'm slowly recovering. Soon JC and I off to the AMC for a birthday party, after which I'll have the pleasure of an afternoon of work. What bites about my job is I don't get public holidays unless all of Asia is off, which is never. We've got a shift system for these days and today I've got the afternoon stretch, which starts off quietly before geting busy just when you hope to make it out the door.

Last night, then, was interesting. A Canadian has come in to work to fill in for a week or so. Being the good host I offered to go for a drink. Accompanied by Tom the Redneck American we started in the Captain's bar of the Mandarin. We downed a quick 3 beers before we hit Lan Kwai Fong, the main bar district near Central. The pace was furious and it would have been rude not to keep up. Some time later I realised I needed to go. I jumped in a taxi and somehow I could make my destination understood. We arrived at what looked like Disneyland, but it was spinning more than usual. Made it up to our flat, and quietly as a drunk I stumbled in. I undressed, laid down in bed for a matter of seconds before heading to the bathroom and spending an hour talking on the great white telephone to God.

It's funny. You realise things when you're in a state like that. You realise that you really should eat before you have a big night. You realise that alcohol can pretend to be your friend when it is really seeking to undermine you. And you learn to make promises that will not last in the cold light of a sober morning. Usually these promises start at "I'll never drink again" before moving to the "I am going to become a monk in the Italian Alps and foreswear all vice" variety. Mrs M was very supportive during this introspective trip through the depths of my soul, providing bread and water so I can get used to a monastic life.

There's something about a session in a bathroom that you finally reach a point where you know you are done. You've come through the darkness and have finally reached the light. You have nothing left to give of yourself. You are at one with the world. A welcoming bed no longer turns on its axis. Sleep quickly overwhelms you. Then 5 hours later your eldest girl lets you know its time for milk. In our house we have only one rule - it doesn't matter if you play up and stay out until silly hours, but the girls come first and the routine is kept. Luckily there was no hint of a hangover, and my sheepish looks at Mrs M confirmed that my night of revelery was no dream. If only she would stop looking back at me with a mixture of sympathy, envy and glee then I could pretend it never happened. And forget my promises.