(Issue two is out now, but I have been slow. All judgments below are based on the first issue. I’m not buying another one to see if it’s improved.)
When I saw the first issue of Uno on the shelves at the supermarket, I was hoping it would be the Wellington equivalent of Metro – on a good day, not all “Why your kids’ school will give you cancer and never let them buy a house” Listeneresque. But it’s not. It’s really, really not. Instead it turns out that Uno is every bit as advertising-copy driven as the Wellington Guide – without the advantage of at least being Welly exclusive. I suppose I should have known better give that Wellington’s official villain of 2006 is on the cover. After the jump, more reasons not to waste $9.95.
This might quite possibly be illegal, but then again, they asked for it.
More “satire, ridicule and denigration” after the jump…
If you’re a stranger to the whole Lolcats phenomenon, then … lucky you. Please take a while to think about whether you want to initiate yourself into a world that’s as pointless, yet as addictive, as P. Then read up on Lolcats, Lolrus, LOL Presidents and the self-referential geek overload that is Lolcode. Now you are ready for Lollington.
More after the jump.
Sometimes there comes a time when you must leave this town, your town for a break – it could be a holiday; it could be your OE; it could be that career move; it could be to do a geographical and just get away.
What’s that? Your favourite barista moved to Westport, and you had to follow? (Yeah, OK. There’s always an excuse.) But sooner or later, you must come back. And when you do there is always a moment when you know you are home.
Here’s one such:
Coming down the Ngauranga Gorge there’s that long sweeping curve where the Hutt and Porirua motorways meet. Look up from the road and you’ll see Wellington arrayed in full panoply before you. There are our small cluster of tall buildings standing proud, feet in the sea and backs to the hills. There are the hills themselves, steeply carpeted with houses in defiance of tectonics and plain good sense, looking on to and out to the sea. There is the bowl of the harbour, rimmed with bush and filled with reflected sky. There is the sky, mostly blue, sometimes grey, often set with clouds scudding.
There it is. Our town. Where you live. Where I live.
Where is this moment for you?
Is it, as the Front Lawn once had it, flying overhead?
over Wellington Harbour
Oriental Bay is standing there in the sunlight
Is it that first sip of Mojo or Fuel?
Is it Courtenay Place at the weekend?
Where? What? With whom? Comment, zoomin, or blog away!
So, I hope everyone’s now up to speed on creating false identities, after the Dominion Post’s useful step-by-step front-page guide yesterday, which talked you through the steps required in getting a fake driver’s license or passport. Thanks DomPost!
What really got us nervous though, was the myriad of ways in which our moves and actions throughout the day are tracked by ‘the man’.
The DomPost listed several examples of supposedly ‘nefarious’ personal data-collection. Did you know that the web-browser you’re using this very moment to look at this page keeps a record of the fact that you’ve looked at the page? It’s true. Doctors, apparently, also keep records of your various visits. Suspicious? Almost certainly.
And, even more insidiously, the library keeps a record of what items you have borrowed from it at any given time? Why, oh why!? The pervading finger of ‘the man’ permeates every facet of our life. Our private lives, and indeed, our very identities, it would seem, are under constant threat, from the authorities, or figures who know how to manipulate the system.
Or, on the other hand, maybe it was just the worst front-page ‘shock’ story, ever.
As always, the photoblog over on the right hand sidebar proves itself a rich source of short-term distraction. This morning it was displaying this photo, from where I went on a little voyage of ‘phubble‘ discovery, which eventually led me to this brilliant image of a phubble at the Basin Reserve…
The worlds largest soap bubble blown by 10 year old Mary Smith of Wellington who can just be seen at the bottom behind the bubble. It took her 7 hours and 38 minutes to get it to this size before a passing seagull flew through it and burst it. Mary was treated for Hypoxia and given a lolly.
Brilliant.
[Image by Mark Turnbull]
From the newly relaunched NZ History website comes this wee gem from Today in History (actually, next week’s Monday, but I couldn’t wait to post it)…
Two Wellington lawyers, W.V. Brewer and H. Ross, drew pistols over a legal difference in Wellington. Brewer fired into the air but ‘received Mr. Ross’ ball in the groin’. He died several days later.
Ouch.
The Wellingtonista want to know what is currently shooting in Wellington that would require a large truck towing a boy on a bicycle with a dog perched happily behind him to film down Lambton Quay.
Someone out there must have the answer. And also: how did they get the dog to hold on?
Did I miss it, the news, the fact? Did you miss it? Someone forgot to post it on the office notice board at Wellingtonista Towers (off-line and very cork-y) … or did I miss it by being elsewhere?
Anywho … it’s not gonna shut because “they” have decided it’s worth keeping open … but it’s not forever:
The government will give it $2.2 million, but says that will be the last payment it will receive.
The council will contribute $300,000 a year for 10 years, after which the observatory is expected to operate on its own.
Source: Radio NZ: Carter Observatory to stay open
And that’s fine. Now we know.
And what do we (the intelligent people of Wellington) need to do? What do we need to do to move beyond this 10 year boundary.
VISIT!
Ensure the kiddlie-winklies of today and next Tuesday have the same opportunity to step out of “Tuesday” and go, “Wholly fuck!” (or the kiddlie-winkle equivalent)
VISIT!
Brilliant. Some generous soul has started transcribing Ronald Smythe and H. Westfolds’ “letters to the editor” to a blog.
Between them, Westfold and Smythe have cornered the market on curmudgeonly grumpiness, making their output, naturally, some of the best comedy writing to be found coming out of our fair city. Says Smythe…
What has happened to the youth of today. It is a rare occasion indeed when I am shown politeness and respect by the younger age groups. Good manners have flown out the window, along with dress sense and decency.
I presume today’s public schools are partly to blame, although parents are no doubt shirking their responsibilities also.
…and H. Westfold, channeling, it would seem, Grandpa Simpson…
Your March 15 item about that lovely 1963 Studebaker and its manufacturer evoked memories of my adolescence in the late 1940s. You see, it was Studebaker which pioneered the “New Look” analogous to that of women’s fashions just then. It was in late 1947 or early 1948 that just a few of the latest Studebaker model appeared on our Taranaki roads, one of those cars being owned by a farmer near my hometown, Inglewood. For a short while, their profile made heads turn – a car’s front and rear ends both looked like front ends as we’d known cars for many years!
…and so on.
Read more at the aptly named I am of the Opinion.
[Hat-tip to Alan for actually un-earthing this.]